Living Hard

I'm living hard, want to make the most of my last days here. But I need to chill out too, or it won't mean anything.

Anyway Saturday I slept in, then Becky and I went around Svartediket to swim in our waterfall. Enjoyed the view, had a little picnic, then I came home and Skyped with my family before a barbecue with Lukas and Monika. It went until late, what with the sun still high in the sky at 10 pm. Finally though it started to disperse, and Lukas and Monika invited me and John (another random American who just arrived) to a party, somewhere far away. We had to all run home and grab our camping stuff, since we didn't know what turns the evening would take.

I had the furthest to go, so I hurried. Ran to the Fantoft bybanen stop. Got off at Kronstad and went the rest of the way to Alrek on foot. Quickly informed Becky and Nash about change in plans, then compressed my sleeping bag, threw everything I needed into my backpack, painted my face and put on party clothes, and ran out to the bus to get downtown. I was actually there ten minutes early, so I strolled through the Nattjazz festival with it's whimsical wooden constructions and the salsa dance and smell of sausages on the streets.

Then I went over and met Lukas and Monika coming off the bybanen, we found John and tried to figure out the busses, ended up making the last free one up to the northern part of town. On the same bus we met a few others headed to the same party, they helped us find the stop and then we started hiking up through the darkness on the Munkebotn path, looking for this mysterious party.

We were hiking straight up mostly, taking shortcuts instead of following the paved road, so we quickly left our new friends behind us. We kept passing groups of people on bikes, smoking pot. Suddenly, sirens and lights. As we hiked up the shortcut between switchbacks, the police car drove up and talked to some of the bikers. All very calm and relaxed. As we emerged from the woods and passed them, they didn't so much as spare us a look.

The path got darker. We started to doubt our directions. But suddenly we started to hear music - far away but unmistakable. Another few corners and a bunker came into view, lit candles on the staircase, strange music and lights, people sprawled out everywhere over a remarkable view of summer-twilight Bergen. We went back and forth from the chill viewpoint to the inside of the bunker, where banners were hung over the small windows to keep out the sun and green, red, white lights danced around us. Cloudberry liquor and tequila and Daim Chocolate.

The party was set to go on until 10 am, but we left around 4:30 and climbed the rest of the way up the mountain. It was almost fully light by then, we scrambled to find a campsite up on top of Svartediket before the sun came over the ridge. Felt like we should be packing up and making breakfast, not saying 'goodnight'. Fell asleep nearly on the path, slept about 4 hours totally dehydrated and in the bright sun. Was proud of my sleeping bags versatility. Woke up in the 'morning', and went for an impromptu swim in the perfect, cool lake water.

John was freaking out, what was this, we were so close to the city, we had walked here from a rave, and it seemed like we were so far from everything - on top of a mountain with the pines all around. Drinking from clear streams and swimming in the cool lakes. The air smelled so pure.

I know, I know. Can't decide if it's good for me to meet John now, hear his first impressions. This was his first trip up into the mountains. I remember mine. Partly I've gotten used to it by now. Partly I haven't. I certainly haven't gotten used to being used to it. I smiled for him, for myself. His time here is beginning as mine is ending. A beautiful sort of pain as we put our bags back on and walked the well known trails over to Fløyen. I kept asking myself if this wasn't the last time I'd see that pond, that stream, that tree. But it's useless to think that way.

Raspberry chocolate ice cream from the kiosk over the city. The place was swarming with tourists, and again there was this wave of strange feeling. 

Went down to the city and met Becky, and we headed up north by bus to Gamle Bergen, a sort of open air museum with 18th and 19th century homes and a few reenactors. There were a handful of people walking around, but most of the people in the area were there for the seaside access, with it's diving board, sunning areas, sparkling blue water.

We headed back downtown afterwards and had a very rare lunch out at Zupperia. I had Rudolph's Soup with reindeer, berries, mushrooms, and cream.

I stumbled back to Alrek and put down my things at long last. Hiking around with my backpack and just a spaghetti-strap party shirt on had rubbed my shoulders pretty raw. I wasn't sure if I had the strength, but I'd promised Ffinlo and Sylwia a hike up Løvstakken, so I put a smaller day-pack together and set off with them, semi-deliriously.

We were always sort-of and never completely lost. Paths became smaller, bigger again, joined others, split constantly. We just kept walking, uphill when possible, towards the peak when possible. The sunlight was bright and strange. We sang silly songs and made ridiculous jokes that barely made sense. Finally we reached the infamous section of the ropes and metal bars, the climby bit. Sylwia got nervous, I had to come down and help her over one section. Then she got really eager and half-sprinted the rest of the way up. My legs were a bit shaky towards the end.

Beautiful view from the top and water in all directions. I could tell why people liked it, but I guess I still prefer the views from Lyderhorn, Sandviken, Ulriken. More photogenic, this one was too spread out and there was no obvious peak in a way. But lovely. Lovely, lovely.

I've gotten so used to mountains and sea and boats all fading into a blue mist below. The painful beauty of the sinking sun. It's awful. One shouldn't be able to get accustomed to such things. It should be a rare and hard-earned pleasure. But here it's been commonplace and that's ruined me. Tea and quick lunch and brownie-flavoured milk. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

The way down was easier, a well-worn and stony path. Our feet were killing us though and we couldn't figure out how people manage the 7-Mountain-Challenge. Still, I would probably go for it if I had company. Totally unsure as to whether or not I would be able to finish. It would be hard at least. I guess it's supposed to be.

Strange noises and a distant ruffle of black feathers. We took pictures of some strange birds doing some strange courting ceremony. 

Then we walked across the city during the sunset, beautiful clouds over the city. I showered and a thousand different smells washed off my body and down the drain. Pine and dust and more.

Then I slept, unwillingly.

Smile because it Happened

I'm freaking out a little bit. Nash just left and that was pretty much my last scheduled thing to do here in Bergen. Now I just have two weeks left, in this beautiful city where it's suddenly summer, temperatures between 60-80 degrees all day, a sun that only sets for a few hours, flowers everywhere filling the air with sweetness, people sunbathing and swimming and eating ice cream and relaxing. There's things I haven't done. Things I want to say goodbye to. People I need more time with. I can do it all. I have more than a week.

More than a week. That's a decent length of time for a vacation. Except I haven't been here on vacation. I've had months and months to absorb and enjoy Bergen. But I'm not ready to leave yet and 'more than a week' isn't going to be enough.

I've been enough places to know, Bergen is perfect for me.

I love that I can walk straight out of my door and up into the mountains.

I love that this has been the only spring I've ever lived through without allergies.

I love that I can drink the lovely, clear water straight from the waterfalls and streams.

I love the city with its many cozy cafes, a few fun clubs, all the lovely houses, and even the tiny touristy area.

I love the public transportation and the fact that it's actually reasonable if you buy a student pass for the month.

I love how you can go and go in any direction and there are islands and mountains and lakes and rivers and streams and fjords and adorable red houses and it never, ever seems to stop.

I love the culture here, the emphasis on family, nature, education.

I love the climate - four distinct seasons, and no, it's not too cold or rainy for me, I like it, actually... it makes me value the sun and the summer.

I love the location in Norway and in Europe... easy flights to, say, Scotland, the Faroes, Finland... even further south to Spain and Italy, Belgium, Germany, Slovenia. And it's not even that far from the States, hardly further from Florida than say, Oregon.

Pamplona was lovely and charming, delicious food, historic, I loved it but a semester was just right. I felt the city and it was a beautiful time in my life, but then I went home.

Bonn was my springboard for freedom, from there I travelled all over Europe. I have happy memories there, indeed, and Bonn was a pleasant city, no doubt, but a semester was just right. I went home.

But Bergen is different.

They say, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."

I'll try.

But it's going to be hard to leave.

And it's going to be hard to go home.

I may find another place in the world that I like as much as Bergen, but I'm sure I'll never find a place I like more.

Bergen

Yet another rainy day in Bergen.

As always, the sound of power tools and music outside my window.

Seriously, what are they building?

The Numa Numa song, Johnny Cash's I Walk the Line, and others I can't name, echo from downtown... or Odontologen... or a few floors down. I'm not entirely sure.

Starefossen, seagulls, and the skyline of the city stretch out before me.

I still can't believe I live here.

And I'm running out of time to accept it...

Little piece of Norway in Alrek

Ffinlo and I watched the fifth episode of Game of Thrones. As I was leaving we ran into Eirik, from Voss, carrying the book version to lend to Ffinlo. We started chatting with him about the series and other nonsense, and before long we ran into another friend who hails from Eastern Norway. We spoke about the lovely warm days we've been having (I managed to get a sunburn today) and then about Syttende Mai, and I joked that I considered bringing my Renaissance fair costume but decided it would be offensive. Simultaneously, Eirik said, "To be honest with you, it wouldn't be," and the other said, "To be honest with you, it would be." The Easterner challenged Eirik on this, so Eirik said, "Have you seen the rediculous things they call bunad in Bergen?" And then the Easterner asked if he was looking for a fight, Ffinlo reminded him he wasn't from Bergen, and the Easterner started saying something about his Vestfold bunad, and then Eirik interjected that anything costing less than $3,000 shouldn't be considered a bunad. and Then I asked about Vestfold and before long we were talking about the fountains and the statues of Sandefjord. Yes, I love this country.

Hallingskeid Again

Went back to Hallingskeid over the weekend. It was a bit spontaneous - there are very few trips this semester that you can go on if you're not good on skis, and this was probably the second, and the last, one that worked for me. It was a funny feeling to leave Bergen now that it's getting warm and summery even for the interior of Norway, where reports said it was still well frozen over. And it was - still a winter wonderland of white like frosting over round mountains as far as the eye could see. But very different this time.

Last time we were 18 crammed into the tiny cabin, a tiny hive of frenzied life with the deadly wind and snow and ice just outside. This time the weather was much better - just below freezing, and largely sunny. We were only four which made the cabin luxurious and spacey. I even got to sleep one night in the reindeer skin sleeping bag! :D (Very traditional and cool, but hairy and not as warm as my down sleeping bag haha).

There was more work to be done by each in a sense, but that was good. I got much better at making the fire, I learned a lot of the basics of how to keep a cabin clean and warm and working. I helped cook. I walked down to the half-frozen river to fetch drinking water. Together with Alex I dug a hole fully eight feet deep to the latrine. We put up new curtains and painted half the cabin bright Vestlandsrød. It was a dugnad trip, after all!

And there was also time for skiing. I still can't turn hardly at all, but can't figure out if that's the fault of the mountain skiis, or that they're just far too big for me, even with the four pairs of socks. Probably both. Other than that, though, I'm improving. Climbing up to the station with skins on was a no-brainer this time. And I came down that whole hill in one movement as well. Getting better at bending my knees. I felt the extra and strange weight of the backpack, but I was better able to manage it this time.

After three times on downhill/alpine/slalom skis, I'm starting to feel confident saying that I'm no good, but I know the basics. This was my third time on crosscountry/mountain skis, and I guess it's about the same. On a normal path I think I'd have no real problems now. Even off-piste I'm managing, but the failure to turn means I can't tackle real mountains because I don't have enough control. Plus, I'd get exhausted pretty fast, if my hikes to and from the train station are any indication!

On Sunday people streamed out of cabins on skiis and snowshoes in solemn lines to the train station for the only train of the day at 4 pm. As we all stood there on the ice-covered platform, the announcement came on that the train had been delayed. For an hour and a half. Because of problems with the hot water supply. Do trains REALLY need hot water? The whole thing seemed ridiculous after a weekend of primitive cabin living. And having dragged ourselves all the way up the hill with all our stuff, we were sort of ready to be headed home. But it wasn't a bad time to be stuck.

Those with nearby cabins went home for a few more minutes. The rest of us headed to the sunny wooden roof. Sheltered from the wind, the warm sun was actually so intense that I stripped down to just jeans (with long underwear underneath), and a long sleeved shirt. The snow was melting quickly from the roof and falling in splatters and drops, which we dodged. The three boys started out reading and ended up napping. I mostly just leaned back and stared at the snowy, mountainous panorama stretched out in front of us. Yet another 'how did I get here' moment.

Photos and Other Stuff

Study days from the university. I need them both for studying and general organization and mental health. The Faroes took a lot out of me - in the best possible way.

And yet it's a sunny day and that's not fair - all these days have been sunny and it's Bergen for crying out loud - I'm sure it'll be nasty and awful now when my friends visit. 

Today I need to do laundry, clean my room, make a blog post or two on the study abroad blog. And STUDY.

But it's hard. :) I've still only sorted 1/3 of the photos from the Faroes. If that makes me sound lazy, consider how many I took -

Eysturoy (Where Uni lives, plus the highest mountain, the natural harbour Gjogv, Saksun, etc) - 3,027
Streymoy (The capital, the mountain road, Kirkjubøur) - 1,649
Suðuroy (Southern Island, cliffs and stuff) - 1,715
Vágar (Western Island, waterfall and islets) - 626
Norðuroyggjar (Northern Islands of Viðoy, Kunoy, Kalsoy, and Borðoy) - 3,512

The Faroe Islands in 25 Pictures

I wouldn't go so far as to call this my '25 best pictures from the Faroe Islands'. I haven't even looked at half of the pictures yet! But this was the summary I threw together to show my Norwegian class, and I think it gives some idea of the spirit and diversity of the landscapes and villages. :)

The Faroese Forests

Sometimes I have this funny idea that I want to make really misleading travel posters. Pictures that were taken in the country but haven't captured its average, its stereotype, its feel, whatever. And I'm torn between just humourously misleading, and trying to showcase another aspect of the place that's too often overlooked. Snowy Italian Alps. Modern Architecture in Norway. The sunny beaches of Scotland.

And right now I have this desire to make a troll post about the "Faroese Forests" with pictures I've taken from their specially planted groves inside of towns. (the Faroes do not have natural forests, or even trees.) You can read about the 'tree situation' in the Faroes here: http://faroesestamps.blogspot.com/2011/04/europa-2011-forests.html They did a quite good job finding motifs for those stamps, but in fact I recognized immediately what both of them depict (I mean the exact place!)- that's how little forested area there is in the Faroes! :)