The Lighthouse Song (Oslo, Norway part 1)

The morning arrived with the expected grey clouds and snow. Lots of snow. It snowed all day in fact. Our guide in Bergen made fun of the meteorologists but it appears they have refined and perfected their craft in Oslo.

Despite now being firm believers in the adage “there is no such as bad weather, just inappropriate clothes”, dear reader, the snow and minus temperatures influenced our choice of activities for the day.

The National Museum

Thankfully the National Museum was a mere 5 minute walk from the hotel. Following breakfast and a couple of double espressos and possibly the best croissant I’ve had outside of France, we went back to our room to put on our thermals and snow jackets. The wind had picked up significantly and snow flurries were being whipped in every direction.

The temperature had dropped to -7° and, appropriately dressed, we stepped out into the snow. I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t excited. Not even the blustery conditions dampened my enthusiasm. However, the unexpected areas of ice tempered my mood. While we had the right clothes and waterproof footwear, we didn’t get ice shoes with the metal sprigs. Therefore, we needed to tread carefully.

A sculpture in the courtyard.

We successfully negotiated the icy steps down towards the museum entrance and joined the queue inside to buy our tickets. The museum was a popular destination today. It is Saturday although I imagine the weather also boosted patronage.

The audio guide needed to be connected to your iPhone. This presented a number of issues. Firstly, they provided a headset not earbuds, so we couldn’t share and we only had my phone. Secondly, the battery on my phone is starting show its age and they do run down more quickly in the cold weather. The advice was just listen to your phone on a low volume - it won't bother others.

Down to the cloak room we went to remove our jackets, scarves and gloves. I was expecting someone behind a desk to take our gear and provide us with a tag or receipt. None of that, for obvious reasons dear reader. You would spend more time checking your gear in and out than you would visiting the exhibits. What we found was a vast space with numbered coat rack after numbered coat rack and lockers for backpacks and bags. We hung our jackets on Number 5 and hoped they would be there on our return.

Interesting design.

Finding the correct ‘tour’ amongst all the options proved to be more difficult than it should have been and I gave up until I accidently stumbled across a method of inputting a number that was tagged with a headset. We turned the volume down on the phone and listened to number of the explanations. Despite the earlier advice, we were concerned about disturbing other patrons by listening without a headset. Given the excessively loud conversations occurring around us, I doubt anyone would have noticed.

The ground floor of the museum is all about design elements and placing things in the context of time, over the centuries. Children were catered for very well (unfortunately) with their own guides, activities and areas to sketch varying exhibits. To create the timeline, they used copies of artefacts from other museums. Bad copies. You could see the joins. There was the Venus de Milo and the Winged Victory as well as an oversized Mona Lisa. I understand the concept but it was just wrong.

I can see the joins.

The second floor was art. They had all usual the suspects, Cezanne, van Gogh, Gaugin, Degar, Rodin, Monet, Manet, Picasso and of course, Münch and other Norwegian artists and sculptors. There was one iteration of ‘The Scream’ on display. Much like Starry Night by van Gogh, there are numerous versions.

The Scream

Apparently while examining The Scream, I inadvertently became part of a selfie. I didn’t realise. The person in question was facing away from the painting. Jayne alerted me to the fact. I cared not. This culture of needing to have your face in every photo is bizarre. The painting in question is what is important, not that you can ‘self-document these locations’. And that, dear reader, is the link to today’s title. It is a lyric from Josh Pyke’s The Lighthouse Song from his 2008 album Chimney’s Afire.

In real life.

There were, all up, 87 rooms to visit and we covered them all in a 4 and a half hour stint. That is dedication. In reality, we probably could have been there longer but we were mindful of the exhibition closing time and so we actually sped up our rate of perusal for about the last 20 rooms.

Another of his self portraits.

We returned to the cloak room to find our coats exactly where we had left them. After close to five hours on our feet, we walked through the much deeper snow back to the hotel. Just before we reached the door an avalanche of snow feel from the parapet above me. We had strayed too close to the shopfront in order to avoid the iced pavement and paid the price. We brushed off the snow and stored our coats and freshened up for dinner.

The youth.

Theatercaféen

We had booked dinner at the café attached to the hotel, Theatercaféen. In part, because it was easy and in part, to spend the $100USD voucher. Café? Not so much. My jeans did not match the many suits and ties I passed as we were shown to our table. It appears to be the spot to dine pre-theatre. That said, we welcomed by the staff and did not feel we were disrespecting their work. Yes, you are right dear reader it’s time to move on.

Our waiter was delightful and helpful and chose my meal because I was undecided. The food was superb as was the service, in contrast to the previous night. Focaccia came with muhammara and a garlic dip. Very nice. We both had the turbot baked with cucumber and risoni in a butter sauce for a main. Perfectly cooked and full of flavour.

It was also a great place for people watching. The two women at the table next to us ordered a bowl of ice with their white wine. Yes, they did it. The unthinkable, They put ice cubes in their wine. I would have made them go and stand outside. That would have chilled the wine for them.

Day 3

Vigeland

The next day was sunshine and blue skies. It was still very cold -9° and Jayne required her snow jacket. I opted for gloves, beanie and Macpac zip up jumper. We decided to make the most of the weather, and St Patrick's Day, and we mapped our course to Vigeland. It is a huge park that contains many sculptures by the artist of the same name, some of which had featured in the National Museum that day before.

The sight is quite spectacular. A tree lined boulevard leads down to a bridge that is lined, on both sides, with sculptures of the human form in a variety of poses. These lead through a rose garden that had been bagged to protect the roses from the snow and ice, up to a giant obelisk of human shapes rising to its zenith.

The park and Vigeland's works continue down the other side of the obelisk.

The roses.

It was quite crowded. again, I'm uncertain if this was due to the beautiful day - it has apparently been a long winter, or the fact that it was Sunday. Locals could be seen out walking their children and their dogs. Or jogging. What is it with jogging? It's dangerous on slippery, icy surfaces. There were also numerous bus tours ensuring my photos are far too populated by people.

The circle of life.

Grünerløkka

With so much of the day in front of us we decided to do a loop walk back to the hotel and headed for Grünerløkka. We didn't really know what was there aside from some quirky shops, markets and bars and a waterfall. It sounded a bit like Surry Hills at home, minus the waterfall. 

Another Great Tit.

The address was typed into the phone and up came the map and estimated time of arrival. Off we set. The walk was not exactly picturesque and was made all the more difficult by the periodically icy footpath. It was not easy going and was clearly going to take longer than expected.

No idea, but it was by the river.

By the time we arrived at our destination, according to Apple Maps, we were standing on a street corner surrounded by housing developments with  no amenities. Nothing quirky or interesting in sight; in fact hardly a living soul, except the occasional jogger. Jayne by her own admission was "over it". It had been a long, sometimes stressful walk to find, well nothing.

We headed down the street in the direction of home and stumbled upon an Irish Pub. They appear to be everywhere in Norway. It was St Patrick's Day, so in we go, Jayne greets the barman with "Happy St Patrick's Day!" "Sorry, what"? was the reply, and then the slow dawning realisation, "Oh, yes," he said. There were balloons and bunting all around the bar. Obviously a man committed to his work. His attitude was not going to spoil our Guinness.

The weir/waterfall.

One pint later, we were on our way again, much refreshed. However, a fast fading phone battery meant there was little time to lose. We could see a little further afield crowds and what could have been a market, but we were done and we needed what was left of the battery to find our way home. On the way, we did find the 'waterfall'. It was a weir. Unimpressed. The walk home continued, being careful to avoid, as much as possible, the icy segments of footpath that appeared randomly and unannounced.

Egon

One curiosity we have found time and again is that the more we walk while on holiday, the less we want to eat. Our breakfasts have been close to usual size but by the time dinner rolls around we aren't that interested.

Tonight we dined at Egon. It is a chain that offers more variety in a menu than should be allowed. They do pizza, pasta, asian and a variety of light meals. As expected, our meal and a bottle of wine came in around the $150 mark. It is expensive to eat here, or drink wine. I'm not sure which.

We walked over 13km throughout the day and certainly earned our rest.

Until next time.

 

It might as well rain until September (Bergen, Norway) Part 1

Call it a senior's moment, but I was quite remiss not to mention Cruise Critic in the last post. Being ignorant of Cruise Critic is a positive thing, dear reader, and no thanks to Mary who cheerily introduced us to this erudite forum in the weeks prior to our departure. In short it is a website, but you need to become a member. There is no monetary cost, but the cost to your sanity is something else. Once you've joined, you can find your upcoming cruise, or look at others, and read the commentary from the members through a section called 'Boards' where a roll call group is created.

For our cruise there was, on completion, 21 pages of comments. I didn't count the number of individual contributors, however, from memory, one was from Scotland, one from England, two from Australia and the rest were from the USA. Not surprising given a Viking representative said that 85-90% of their business is from the States. Of course I am not one of the Australians who contributed to the pages. I lurked, dear reader, and maintained the safety of anonymity as the war of words was raged. Oh yes, it was quite nasty at times. Passive aggressive replies about dress codes, outright aggressive commentary about pre-booking shore excursions. Always concluding with some ludicrous, 'have a nice day' comment, while meaning the entire opposite. One person actually said, "I don't judge" while doing exactly that.

Who would have thought I would be demonstrating disrespect towards the staff by wearing jeans to dinner, as one overly judgemental person stated. I'm certain my jeans didn't impact on their wages and I've been treated nicely by suits and pearls as well as overalls and jeans. The reverse is also true, although there was more abuse from the nicely dressed. Money does not buy class.

Early morning heading to Bergen.

Here is a link to the 'Boards' page, but you'll have to join for access. Good luck, it is a slippery slope.

Back to the agenda. Bergen. We have overstayed our welcome, not because of something we have done. Well, it is really. There is only so much to do in this beautiful town and the weather restricts some activities. When rain is likely for 239 days a year, consecutive days without rain are miraculous! We achieved this feat on our first two days here.

Cruising into Bergen.

And so to today's title, It might as well rain until September. A 1963 classic from Carole King. It felt like it was going to rain until September. The locals are all very stoic about it. Dress appropriately and the rain is a minor inconvenience. Interesting in a town that is eminently walkable.

I'll break up the next section into the tourist attractions we visited as part of the cruise onshore experience. We were aware that opening hours can be seasonal. This is the lesser of the two shoulder seasons and some attractions are open for limited hours on one day a week.

Beyond the port, Bergen is etched into the hillside.

As previously stated, we arrived in Bergen a couple of hours late and all the tours were pushed back. This actually meant we would not be able to make our Chef’s Table reservation that evening if we attended our last shore excursion. That was still hours away and we boarded a bus for a 4.5 hour Panoramic Bergen tour which proved, happily, to be more off the bus than on.

Bryggen

Initially, we weren’t seated on the bus for more than three minutes. Given we’d been on board the ship for two days straight, I would have preferred to walk. However, we piled on and then filed off the bus and stood on a street corner while our guide, Ani, provided the background to the Bryggen area.

Decorations on houses were used instead of addresses.

The buildings that line the street, or wharf if you prefer, are all wooden. The various colours of the painted timber make for a picture postcard scene. It is an UNESCO world heritage site, like the Great Barrier Reef, although the Norwegians care about their heritage sites. There are a number of buildings undergoing restoration which is problematic. As a heritage site, they must be repaired using the same techniques and technology that was used in their original construction. While I understand the desire for authenticity, surely modern methods could be used if they weren’t going to damage the integrity of the historic aspect of the building?

Bryggen.

Ani then deftly switched the point of the walking tour and made his way through the group. Those that had situated themselves next to him were now at the rear. I’m sure my smirk was visible. One aging man (insert country of prejudice, oh alright, he was American) with a walking stick was clearly unhappy with this new arrangement and stepped from the footpath onto to the road to gain ascendancy and the front of the group. Sadly, the driver of the adjacent car anticipated his stupidity and drove around him as his wife called out, “Be careful, Jim.” One deftly placed shoulder on my behalf could have ensured his permanent removal from our group.

Bryggen Nightclub. Definitely no smoking.

Obviously, fire was a significant issue in a community of wooden structures and the area has burnt down several times. This, despite the absolute prohibition of any fires in any of the houses for either heating or cooking purposes. The subsequent rebuilding on dodgy foundations has had its impact and some buildings appear not to have been constructed with the use of a spirit level or string line. Extensive restoration work is being undertaken both inside and underneath several of the iconic houses as the sinking water table is impacting negatively upon the already undermined foundations – hence the list to one side. In fact, they are channelling natural rainwater run off into pits underneath the houses in a bid to keep the water table afloat.

Of course it is level.

While timber was a plentiful resource, fire is a necessity in such a cold, wet climate. Despite this, and the abundance of stone, it was rarely used as a construction material. A couple of houses and the church were the only evidence of common-sense building.

The oldest building in Bergen is made of stone.

The brass manhole covers that dot the Bryggen and wider area are decorated with a symbolic graphic of Bergen.

Very decorative.

The Assembly Hall

The assembly halls where the Hanseatic workers were fed were also constructed of timber and in some cases, no fire was allowed, which meant cold food only. Cold food was not an issue in a town where the temperature was barely 3° in early spring. Everything was cold. The preference was obviously for hot meals and so a system was devised to ensure that was possible. Each group had their own kitchen preparation area and eating area in the main hall.

A bull's penis used to whip those who break the rules.

The kitchen area was downstairs and was built of stone and a metal stove was built into the dining area above. To ensure fire safety, it was fed from the kitchen so there were no open flames in the dining room. A tile was placed over the chimney top to stop sparks flying out and landing on rooftops. Some of the rooves and buildings were coated with tar to combat the intense elements, but this meant the exterior was flammable. Hmmm, could that be a problem? Imagine if they'd built with stone.

Where the important people sit.

The assembly halls were multi-purpose communal buildings that also served as courthouses and general meeting places. It was also a heavily male dominated society, hence the sexualised punishment of being whipped with a bull's penis. You can't make this up. Who comes up with this stuff? It takes a lot of effort to make a 'cane' like that. And wouldn't it be so emasculating? Or should that be homo-erotic? I'm undecided. Either way, it's just weird. Or private boys' school. Or both.

The stove heating the hall, fed from the kitchen.

These were tough times that weren’t made easier by the climate or the choice of building materials.

A row of pots in the kitchen.

St Mary’s

The stone church was more of a walk-by on the way back to the bus, although Ani recommended that we return and go inside later, if we had time. Apparently, it is quite beautiful. 

Looks good from the outside.

And return we did, the next day to discover that opening hours this time of year equated to Fridays 12-2pm. We walked around the perimeter, like the other disappointed tourists, snapped a few photos and continued on our way. When it re-opened, we would be aboard a train to Oslo.

That's about all we could see.

On the bus

Back on the bus, we were treated to a guided drive around Bergen itself. The second largest city in Norway, Bergen is apparently still getting over the fact that it was once the capital and home to the royal family but now one of its main claims to fame is as the wettest city in Europe. It's not the only European city still lamenting a lost past. I'm looking at you Vienna.

The drive was a fascinating look at Bergen and its history. We passed the fish market and were recommended a restaurant to try. The outdoor market has yet to open for this season. Not far away was another community of wooden houses, all painted white. They were almost totally destroyed in WWII but a rebuilding and restoration program has ensured they will be around for a while longer.

Flowers are hard to come by at the moment.

Up the hill we went past a grassy, park-like area with views back to the harbour. Quite a pleasant spot, until it was explained that is where Bergen’s witches were burned at the stake. It seems an intelligent, opinionated woman was not trusted in Norway either.

The “new” church, was built in 1763. Not quite so new. Back in the day it was given the tag and it has stuck. The new church is visible from many parts of Bergen and I’m sure it a significant landmark. However, it is currently wrapped in plastic, Laura Palmer style, as work is carried out on the exterior of the building.

They love trolls in Norway.

There is an interesting statue of Henrik Ibsen that turned out to be across the road from our hotel. Ani described him as “the second greatest playwright in the world. After Shakespeare.” Hmmm. Not sure about that. How about Chekhov? Or Pinter? Or Beckett?

Ibsen has crazy eyes.

We also drove by the area where it is mostly student accommodation. Bergen, after all, boasts two universities and the students account for almost 20% of the population. In contrast, we also toured the most expensive suburb. What made it so expensive? Well, price obviously, but why? It was the part of the town that received the most sun. Now that I completely understand.

And that's where I'll end it for today. I need to split Bergen into two posts otherwise you'll never get anything done, dear reader.

Until next time.