It was a weekend flight to Oslo. I was looking forward to Norway. The land of the Vikings, the midnight sun and what is labelled as one of the greatest rail journeys in the world — the journey from Oslo to Bergen. It was ahead of the tourist season, the weather was cold and the nights set in early.
Norway’s international airport is 50 km from the city in Gardermoen. It is big. The flight being an internal EU flight emigration and customs was quickly dispensed. Then the long unexplained wait for the luggage. There was not a murmur or any sign of impatience from the waiting crowd of most Norwegian’s returning home for the weekend. Finally, the luggage arrives to clapping. Not from the Norwegian’s but from a party of Americans on holiday to Norway.
I enchased what I thought was huge amount of currency. Little did I know how expensive Norway is. Driven by North Sea oil wealth, this is a rich country with lots of money chasing a host of goods imported from all over the world. The rail connection from the airport to city center is relatively cheaper — if there is such a word in Norway — and efficient.
The train started as scheduled and the last passenger on board before the automatic doors closed was a young man who occupies the seat in front of me and spends the early part of the journey arranging what I made out to be liquor bottles very carefully into his knapsack. Strange I thought, as there was an air of conspiracy about this process. It was only later, reading an article did I learn that Norway has an alcoholic problem which the government is fighting with different means.
After checking in to the hotel, I decide to take a walk and a tram ride to see the famous Frogner Park and explore the city. A couple of things hit you immediately. The sparseness of the population. There is no one on the streets. The other is that most people are familiar with English and helpful.
Bronze statue in the Vigeland Sculpture Park Photo: Nancy Bundt
The Frogner Park is famous for the sculptures of Gustav Vigeland, Norway’s greatest sculptor. The park has nearly 211 sculptors in granite, bronze and iron. The park is vast and at this time of the year, the trees are still to get their coat of fresh leaves. Winter is just beginning to beat a retreat. There is still ice in part of the pool. The scene is stark made even starker by the absence of crowds. I fell in conversation with a mother pushing a pram. She was from Australia. “I enjoy Norway. It’s clean, neat, and safe. My husband works here. But I do miss the Australian sun.”
From the park, I took the tram to the waterfront at Dokkvein. The tourist season had not yet started. All the boats and the ferries that would take you out to the fjords were tied up at anchor. This was a disappointment.
I decided to make up for this by promising myself a good dinner. It was then that I noticed the lonely singer. He was on the quayside with a guitar and an open box to collect the coins that passer-by’s would donate in appreciation of his talents. It was still bright and he had a small crowd around him enjoying the music and the last dregs of sunshine.
The meal was excellent. The cold-water shrimp, a specialty of these waters, was juicy and fresh. Chased with a good wine and finished with the Norwegian specialty tilslotbondepiker — stewed apple and breadcrumbs served with cream. I walked out of the restaurant a contented man.
It was chilly and dark outside. To my surprise, the singer was still belting out his songs. There was no one to hear him but neither the cold nor the darkness seemed to matter to him. I was keen to get back to the warmth of my hotel room. I took the first cab in a line of cabs. For the next half an hour the time it took to the hotel I spoke in Hindi!
The cabbie happened to be a second-generation Pakistani. His father had migrated to Norway and being born in Norway he was a Norwegian citizen. He told me that there were a small lot of Indians and Pakistanis in Oslo and some of them where wealthy and important businesspersons.
The train to Bergen is an engineering marvel. It has to climb some of the most difficult peaks and uses a special technology to provide traction and a series of backup brakes in case one failed. “Safe. Very safe,” said the engineer of the train. We passed through snowfields and tall stark trees with ice still clinging to their bare branches. There was ice everywhere. In flashes, the scenery would be broken with picture card views of lakes and mountain peaks. Occasionally, a couple of houses would flash past once again highlighting the sparseness of the population of this country.
At the very top of the train journey, we made a stop at Voss. This is the skiing capital of Norway. I am joined by a party of young men who have obviously been skiing. One of them occupied the seat next to me. “We are a bunch of old schoolmates who go every year skiing together. We leave the wives behind. This is our way of winding back the clock to old times.” He turned out to be a pleasant conversationalist and told me of the history of Norway, the ways of the Vikings, the role of Norway in the Second World War and the wealth the North Sea oil has bought to Norway.
Bergen is a beautiful city. It’s surrounded by water and the marvellous Norwegian fjords are not too far away. A walk around the city is a rewarding experience, especially around Bryggen with its rows of traditional Hanseatic-timbered houses with their distinctive red brick and ochre colours rebuilt around the waterfront after the disastrous fire of 1702.
Bryggen is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Having walked around the city, I decided to take the funicular 1000 feet to the top to Fløyen, the most famous of Bergen’s seven hills. The view from the top of the city and harbour was marvellous. Walking down the hill was to be transported to another world. You never saw anybody, the trees are draped in a light mist, the only sound is the crunch of your shoes, the drip-drip of the moisture from the trees, and it’s not difficult to imagine of fairies and trolls, playing somewhere close by in the forest. You have not seen them, but they have for sure seen you. Norwegian folklore believes trolls exist as either giants or dwarves and inhabit the forests and lonely places. The dinner as usual was excellent, this time, slabs of reindeer meat in a delicious 'brun saus' with warm bread and melting butter.
Norway is a wonderful and different country. It is recommended that on the way out at duty free, pick up a scowling or smiling troll and do pick up a bottle of Akevitt, a potent local brew. Norway’s best. Cheers!