A Tour of Oslo

Oslo isn’t quite what I expected.  It’s a very compact, sophisticated city with lots of green space and parks.   I stayed at the Thom Hotel Cecil and would highly recommend it, and the location right off Stortingsgaten and across from the large park that surrounds the National Theater can’t be beat!  Oslo is easy to find your way around.   Karl Johans Gate is the large main street that stretches all the way from the bus/train station on the eastern side to the Royal Palace in the west.  South of Karl Johans is the busy harbor anchored by Radhusplassen (City Hall Square).  The boats and ferries leave for fjord cruises and day trips to adjacent islands like Bygdoy where Kon-Tiki, polar explorer “Fram”,  Norwegian Folk, and Viking Ship Museums are located.  Both Karl Johans and the harbor are full of good restaurants and great people watching with the usual pierced, tattooed, and counter culture people as well as tourist, locals and souvenir vendors.  Streets are clean and numbered correctly—something that is lacking in many countries!

First thing to familiarize myself with Oslo was the Frommer’s  “Historic walking tour” and in the “Footsteps of Ibsen and Munch”, native sons that are much loved here.  Doesn’t take long to realize what a compact city Oslo is. Anything out of the center to town is easily reached by public transportation which includes the tram, buses, and metro.  My itinerary included:

The Edvard Munch Museum was two metro stops from me and I arrived before opening, so I spent 20 mins in the Botanical Gardens before joining the never-short entry line with airport type security. Both the Munch and the National Museum have had thefts of Munch’s “The Scream”—both were also recovered, but are under tighter security now.  When Munch died in 1944, his entire estate was bequeathed to the City of Oslo.  The collection includes 1100 painting, 4500 drawing and 18,000 prints.  Besides just taking in the city, the Munch Museum was the Oslo highlight.  He’s obsessed with death, love, and his own anxiety.  Some of the collection is accompanied by his journal entries about the painting and the emotion he was trying to convey. Next to the Scream, is written

·         “One night I walked along a hillside path near Christiana (Oslo) with 2 friends.  It was a time during which life had ripped open my soul, the sun went down.  It was as if a flaming sword of blood cut across the firmament.  The air turned to blood with cutting veins of flames.  The hillside became a deep blue-the fjord-cut in a cold blue-that shrill bloody red on the road and railing.  The faces of my friends became a garish yellow-white.  I felt a huge scream.  I did hear a huge scream…………. Then I painted the scream.”

Another painting shows the upper torsos of a man and woman looking at each other and the journal entry states “when our eyes met invisible hands tied delicate threads – which went through your eyes in through my eyes and bound together out heart”.  The museum was fantastic with and the only distraction came from an anorectic teenager who pirouetted through the galleries bumping into people and belching loudly.  When guards asked her to stop, her mother took her in tow for a few minutes but soon was back to spiraling in and out of museum goers!

Another highlight was Vigelandsparken, a 74 acre park on the western side of Oslo containing 227 of Gustav Vigeland’s monumental sculptures.  After 40 years working on the park, he died one year before its completion.  The sculptures, depicting life from birth to old age and death line the entry to the park and lead to a 52 foot sculpture of 121 writhing figures carved into one piece of stone-- easy to find since it is sitting on the highest hill in the park.  (Of interest is that Vigeland spent 40 years designing and constructing the park--all with taxpayer money.  Munch found this reprehensible and made his feeling clear by donating all of his works to the city.)

There are many sites to see from the Nobel Peace Center and museums to the giant ski jump, Holmenkollen. I took the metro to Homenkollen and walked up the hill to the massive ski jump.  The existing is a high tech replacement for the original built in 1892 and is not only the oldest in the world, but a symbol of Norway.  It is only used in Feb. and March for ski jumping and all of Oslo and much of Norway stand in freezing winter weather to watch.  The competition starts with a procession lead by the king and some of the royal family on skis.  I heard that the king’s father had taken part in one of the Olympics in the jumping competition prior to WWII.  The royal family is followed by the MPs (ministers of parliament) also on skis--obviously in better condition than our legislators!  Cross country skiing is done by almost everyone in Norway from a young age.  The ski jump itself is dizzyingly steep, and where I entered the stadium was at the 60 meter landing for the ski jump—it really looks scary and it is also narrow.  Cannot imagine what would happen if you crashed on the way down!  A simulator give one the idea what it’s like to go down the jump at 160 km. an hr. 

Another thing I did that was quite interesting was a visit to the Storting, their parliament.  Tours are offered in Norwegian and English 3 times a day.  Lines form ½ hr to 15 mins ahead of time and 30 is the max number.  Again, airport type scanners and everything is inspected.  You can take your camera and nothing else-not even a camera case.  Bags and purses are locked away before we begin.  Norway has a long history of foreign domination with independence coming only in 1905 when the 100 year union with Sweden was dissolved. Before that Norway was under Danish rule from 1397 until 1814.  They treasure their independence and have twice voted down joining the EU and their currency is still the Norwegian kroner.  Anyone is allowed to observe any discussion when the Storting is in session, except the King.  The podium where the speaker of the house sits is replaced for the opening of parliament in Oct with the King’s throne—his only visit each year.  He reads a letter from parliament to him about what Parliament plans to accomplish for the next session.  The King has to leave prior to any further discussion, but anyone else, even me could come to listen from the visitors’ gallery.  MPs are seated alphabetically by the area they represent, not by party.  If anyone wants to speak, they are required to go to the back to the room to a speaker rostrum.  Even though women couldn’t vote in Norway until 1914, women now account for 46% of the members.

The picture is me on at the new Oslo Opera House. 

There are several places I didn’t see that I wanted to –like the Viking Museum.  The Oseberg ship, a completely intact, well preserved, Viking ship c.834 that was excavated in the early 1900 and numerous other items from the Viking age are on display.  So much to see……….. Oslo isn’t the little provincial capital that I expected, but a vibrant city with a lot going on!   

The aftermath of a tragedy

The entire trip I’ve been thinking about the massacre and the Oslo bombing and really didn’t hear much about it—until I got to Oslo.  Not that I hear much talk, but it is the headlines in every newspaper every day.  And surprisingly, there are many newspapers in Norway.  The cathedral would have just been another stop on my sightseeing before the “tragedy”, as everyone calls it.  The grounds around the cathedral are full of flowers—mostly red and white roses—some in piles that are 2-3 feet deep, candles in glass jars that burn for 24 hours are everywhere as are handwritten notes, pictures and cards.  So many visitors have trampled the grass around the church and between the dead flowers and dead grass, it looks like something catastrophic has happened to the church grounds.  Nothing has been cleared away and the piles of dead and dying flowers seem somehow symbolic.   Barricades still surround the church to keep the people and flowers out of the street so that traffic can continue to flow.  Inside the church, people mill around, light candles and it appears that extra candle holders have been erected to meet the need. Church personnel are scraping wax that has dripped to the floor and replensishing the candle supply. A box of candles was depleted in 15 mins.   A large bronze last supper has Christ and every disciple draped in flowers and notes with more being added.  The notes are in many languages, some with hand drawn pictures, some just messages and are layered on top of each other.  There is paper and pencil to write a note if you should desire with a disclaimer that whatever you write will be on display for everyone to read, and there is also a box to put notes that only the priest will read.

As emotional as the church scene was, the actual bombing site defies description.  It is a bit north of the cathedral, in an area where members of the Storting have their offices, not at the actual parliament building.   In addition to the MPs, the area has a high concentration of shops and residences--fairly high end.  I expected to walk up there and see a bombed out building, but for 6 square blocks, building are boarded up—some much worse than others.  Most are missing windows and 4X8 sheets of plywood are stacked along the streets.  The buildings that are not inhabitable and probably will be torn down have been left with the windows gaping open and curtains and window covering are blowing out in the wind.  Ceilings are missing in some, and furniture is scattered like if you tipped a doll house and everything slid back to the wall.  The 2-3 block area closest to the explosion is closed off and all that’s visible above fences are cranes and boarded up windows.   I walked through again at dusk and lights were coming on in some of the apartments next to a boarded up window with people visible inside. There are people like me looking at what happened, but most are walking by going about their daily routine.  Restaurants and cafes are open with people having coffee or a beer and laughing with friends across the street from a large container of twisted metal and wood that has been removed from surrounding buildings.  Some of the stores say "Apert" on the windows or doors--OPEN.  One restaurant I walked by had plywood around the entrance and one boarded up window, but people sitting at the tables having dinner.  This area is being guarded by soldiers—the police may not have guns but the military sure does!

My hotel is across from the Storting and about 8 blocks away from the bombing.  A young Aussie who works at the hotel was checking all the room doors to make sure they closed adequately.  Apparently they've had complaints since the bombing.  He told me his cousin working at another hotel a little further away, was in the cellar bring up wine when the blast occured and he could not only feel it, but hear it.  The Aussie guy was camping in the mountains with no communication with the outside world and missed the whole thing.  He returned to Oslo and many phone calls from  his parents in Australia.  How would have liked to have been in his parent's shoes for those few days?   

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Brevik is still in solitary confinement and is not allowed to watch television or see a newspaper.  He really wanted publicity for his cause and the government doesn’t want him to see any of the news about himself.   He's also complaining about solitary confinement and thinking it's unfair!  Even though the longest sentence a Norwegian can get for any crime is 21 years in prison, he will be tried under a special provision for traitors and terrorist like Norway had for war criminals, some of whom they executed—like Quisling.  (Remember my source for information about Brevik is people I talk to in cafes, in lines, and at museums!)   Quite a time to be in Oslo and see how a country deals with a tragedy of this magnitude.     

Immigration and Saints

Stavanger is the port that my father, like many immigrants, departed Norway to come to the United States.  I spent the morning at the Norwegian Immigration Center.  Norwegian immigrant history is documented and commemorated, but upstairs there is everything you need to trace your ancestors back to Norway.  In three hours, I found my Dad’s christening record from the churchbook in Ferkinstad, which I had visited to see my grandparent’s graves, the 1910 census showing my grandparents and who lived in the household—all 11 of them, details on Dad’s immigration, and the Farm Book that in three large volumes traces back ownership of all farms in Norway further than I cared to go!  I’ll leave all of that to my cousin, Oskar.  He has the advantage of having time, patience, and the ability to read Norwegian!  I did find the history of my maternal grandmother’s family farm, and traced it back pretty easily to the 1500s—they have sources there that my cousin doesn’t have access to, so I sent the info to him.  The morning was a lot like the internet in that I could spend lots of time and have very little to show for it!  My father, newly named Hans S. Davidsen,  left Stavanger Feb. 21, 1930 via Southampton to New York City on the Cunard’s “Beregaria” and arrived in NYC March 4, 1930.  There is plenty more to research because then Dad left NYC on Dec. 14, 1934 and arrived in Bergen Dec. 16, 1934.  But lots more to see and I have to meet my cousin this afternoon.



The Domkirken (Cathedral) was started in 1125 and Stavanger was chosen as the site, because even though it was just a small cluster of wooden houses at the end of an inlet, it was the only recognizable settlement along the southwestern coast. In spite of being close to 900 years old, occasional fires, remodels to update in 1272 to Scottish Gothic, it is among the best preserved medieval cathedrals in Europe.  During with the Reformation, it lost holy relics of St. Swithun  (whoever he is) along with it’s bell and several towers.  The church is the usual mixture of stained glass, gothic columns with capitals carved with Norse dragons and griffins, but the highlight is the ornately carved pulpit which is one of the best examples of Baroque art in Norway.  It was here that I met my 33 year old 2^nd cousin, Monica.  She said, “there is something I want to show you.”  We walked outside the cathedral and as I was staring up at the square twin towers and a mammoth porch adorned with four saints, each in their niche, she handed me a book and said, “I think you will find this interesting”.  I didn’t quite get it at first, but there was my Dad’s name followed by my brother, and me, including our children up to Jack, who is now 10.  She pointed to one of the saints and said, “that is Ste. Bridget” and she is one of our relatives and this book is her story.  I don’t know much about Ste. Bridget except Monica said she was Swedish, lived in the late1200s and saw Jesus come alive on the cross and he spoke to her.  I’ll have to see if the book is translated into English when I get home.  Guess if I’m related to a saint, I should know something about her.  Monica said we’re also related to Knut, the Holy.  At least I know that he was king of Denmark.  I wonder if I’m too American for all of this?   

The other Stavanger

Before there was oil, there were sardines.  Actually, brisling, not sardines.  The French sued the Norwegians for 9 years in early 1900 and finally the courts decided that the Norwegians did not have sardines, but a fish called brisling.  So all "sardines" that are exported say, in very fine print somewhere on the can, "brisling".  Many of Stavangers's 70 canneries have now been transformed into modern offices and upscale housing, but the Canning Museum remains in the original building with the factory intact.   The workers are all that's missing.  The equipment and layout has not changed from pictures that adorn each work area of the actual cannery--some from 1905 and others from 1980s. We followed the entire process from sardine delivery from the fishermen, brining (you check to make sure the brine is sufficiently salty by dropping a potato with two nails into the brining water.  If the potato sinks, need to add more salt until it floats. There's an advertisement for the nail company on the wall!).  Women, making 1/3 the salary of men, then  thread the fish onto long rods to be smoked in giant oven with racks for the fish on top and a place for the fire on the bottom.  A machine, shown in the picture, allowed the women to put the fish, head first, into slots you see at the front of the device and then thread the rod through the eyes and increased production from 1000 fish an hour to 4000 per woman! There was a small rebellion when women wanted increased pay--remember they already made 2/3 less than men--for the increased production.  Management nixed that pretty quick! Smoking is men's work--the 1905 BBQ--- and this was the most coveted job in the factory.  Pay was 3 times what men in the other areas made, but the temperature would get up to 130 dgrees and free beer was provided for the smokers.  A 90 year old smoker is still an advisor to the museum and occasionally come in to mingle with the tourists.  The beer was a big incentive since drinking was illegal in Stavanger which has long been the "Bible Belt" of Norway.  Even now, alcohol, excluding beer, is still not sold except in state run liquor store, of which Stavanger has only 2.  They don't make it easy to drink--and alcohol is expensive, even by Norwegian standards!

There are only 3 canneries left in Norway, and only one for sardines.  The canning business has moved to Eastern Europe where not only is labor cheaper, but the demand for cheap, canned fish is greater.  Norwegians now prefer smoked salmon and sushi! 

Oil City

I started my stay in Stavanger Monday night at the Big Horn Steak House serving American Midwest aged beef. My cousin had missed his 4:45 PM ferry and the next one was at 10:30 PM so he drove me all around telling me about Stavanger. Several members of my family live in Stavanger and several work out of Stanvanger for the oil companies. We found the house his father was born in, walked around City Park with it swans regally floating with their grown babies that haven’t turned white yet. At one end of the park is a large statue from America to “All the Norwegian Immigrants who helped to make America great”-nice to have someone that can read and speak Norwegian! Wouldn’t have known that if David hadn’t read it to me! Stavanger dates to Viking times and the oldest part of the city, the Gamle, is full of narrow, winding street with wood houses that come right up to the street Fire is and was a big hazard so in 1856 Stavanger build Valberget Tower where a man walked around the tower looking for any sign of a fire. The city started getting taller so another story was added to the tower. Today, it’s a nice place for tourist to view the city. Anyway, back to the Steak House. Almost every table around us was American-speaking and mostly men. American oilmen still come to Norway in droves for jobs or as consultants in the ever expanding oil industry.

There is the Oil Museum in the harbor built like a North Sea oil rig. It has actual equipment used for oil exploration, drilling, retrieval and processing. I didn’t try it, but some teenagers were flying out the escape hatch and being propelled 2 stories off the rig--they were laughing like it was fun! A video shows the construction and maintenance of the Ormen Lange pipeline that travels 1200 km. from western Norway to Easington, England through large pipes on the ocean floor. A simulation of a helicopter landing on an oil rig and then the living conditions on the rig are displayed. Most people—90% men—work 14 days on for 12 hours a day and then 4 weeks off. The history of oil in Norway is told through newspaper headlines and articles about the oil finds and how Norway is dealing with becoming rich from the oil. Oil was discovered in the North Sea in the mid 1960s and the first well, Ekofiske started producing in 1971. There are currently 62 offshore fields operating with about 200,000 people employed—yesterday, a new oil field with 50 year potential was discovered. Total revenue from 1971-2009 was 3,636 billion NOK ( Norwegian kroner) which accounts for 31% of the government revenue. 40% of the money has been spent and the rest goes into the “Petroleum Fund” set up in 1990 by the Storting (Parliament) to make sure that is isn’t squandered and that it goes for the good of all Norwegian people. A “real time” digital counter shows what the fund is worth “right now” with the last 9 numbers changing so fast that it’s impossible to read, but rounded off to the nearest billion, it’s 2,935,000,000,000! At least yesterday it was and that equals 500,000 for every man, woman and child in Norway. Norway doesn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the Dutch with their oil and tanked their economy as a result and the Storting and several committees oversee every aspect of exploration and production. Stavanger is the hub of the oil industry.

Oil has brought great wealth to Norway. It is one of the richest countries in the world and people like me are shocked by the prices, but many of my cousins mentioned that even though the country is rich, they have all the money they could possibly want, they summer at their seashore and mountain cabins, they winter in Spain, all education is free, all healthcare is free, all of them felt that Norway had lost something. Social problems such as drugs and alcohol have increased, prescriptions for anti-anxiety drugs and antidepressants are way up, more people are seeing therapist and psychiatrist, and the culture of Norway has adversely changed. Obviously the government feels the same way and they have the” Norsk Monitor” that has been researching how happy the Norwegians are and why. Well, it turns out that happiness in Norway doesn’t come from being rich, but happiness comes from being richer than your neighbor!

A Day on Randoy

Remember that -oy at the end of a word means island, but last names can also have -oy dating back to when people just had a first name and the place they were from instead of a family name.

Ferries are much more a mode of transport here than in Seattle.  Everywhere I go in Western Norway, a ferry is part of the trip.  Today, the wind was blowing and it was stormy with white caps and water crashing against the rocks on the beach with a three to four foot spray.  I knew it was going to be an interesting crossing when the boat was noticeable leaning starboard as I was boarding!  It is an hour and 20 min crossing from Skudeneshavn on the southern tip of Karmoy to Stavanger, my new home for 3 days.  My cousin, David Slaattebrekk—same name as my grandfather—was there to take me to Hjelmeland, the home of my mysterious grandmother that no one seems to know much about.  A small island off the mainland from Hjelmeland called Randoy is the home of Grandfather’s second wife Marta.  Her maiden name was Marta Kvalvoy and she grew up on the island of Kvalvoy as the sole residents along with her parents and 7 siblings—guess they didn’t even bother to name someone—just gave them the island’s name as a last name!  I had also found a picture in my Dad’s stuff of a church that no one seemed to  recognize, so we also looked at churches as we passed through each little village and town.  Most churches seem to have the same architect, but the background scenery was two high mountains so easy to recognize.

  The southern fjords are stunning and rightfully deserve the distinction of being “the finest unspoiled travel destination in the world”.  We had to take another ferry to get across to the mainland from Stavanger to Tau or drive for a day around.  The Fjordvegen (Fjord Road) clinging to the steep hills are also amazing engineering feats.  We could see the work-in-progress new tunnel going under the mountain for 8 km. in an effort to keep the road open in the winter and prevent boulders that seem to hang precariously on the side of the mountain from falling on passing cars.  We found the church I was looking for, photographed it and wondered why it was important to my father, but unfortunately everyone who would know anything is dead.  Or so we thought.

During our lunch at the little town of Oleusnd on Randoy—you can’t really called it even a village since it’s a store, dock and café—David and I are talking about the marriage of our grandfather and he’s telling me about what a wonderful woman Marta, the stepmother, was and when my grandfather died in 1956, she returned to Randoy to take care of her brother, Halvord Kvalvoy.  Grandfather’s unmarried sisters, Tala and Maria, lived with grandfather and his wives as was the custom but they didn’t like Marta and they were always fighting about something.   My cousin and his mother and sister spent time in the summer with Marta at the house on Randoy but doesn’t remember Halvord.  He said relatives would talk about Marta after the kids went to bed and he knew there was some issue there. Cousin David asked some of the locals sitting with us at the restaurant if they knew Marta or her brother, Harvord.  They knew him but not her, but  told us there was a 90ish woman named Bertha Begoy near the cemetery where Marta was buried that might know something about them.

We found Marta’s grave at the tiny Sandanger Cemetery close to the house that Marta and her brother lived in, but not Halvord’s grave.  We started knocking on doors asking for Bertha and found her on the 3^rd try.  Bertha turned out to be a very sharp old lady and invited us in and David talked to her for a long time.  To make a long story short--  Bertha is the niece of Marta, knew Marta well, recognized our grandfather immediately and we heard high praise for both of them.   Apparently our grandfather had met Marta when she worked as a housekeeper before he married the first time in 1910.  Marta didn’t marry because she didn’t want anyone but our grandfather and he would rent a 40-50 foot boat in Skudeneshavn and go to Randoy (now that is no easy feat even today!) to visit prior to the war.  When my grandmother died in 1941, he and Marta married shortly afterwards and according to both Berta and my cousin, David, she had a very happy life with grandfather.  Where and when they married, my genealogy cousin, Oskar, has never been able to find out, but grandfather hadn’t waited the proper mourning time before remarrying according to the family gossip.  Harlvord was angry that she left him to marry my grandfather and move to the farm on Karmoy, and obviously grandfather’s sister didn’t like her being there.  She was kicked out of the house immediately after grandfather’s death and I’m sure didn’t have much choice but to go back to her brother.  According to Bertha, Halvord was never again civil to Marta and never forgave her for leaving him to marry—guess he had to do his own cleaning and cooking!  Bertha said no one understood why Marta would come home to Halvord when she was so happy being married to my grandfather and living on Karmoy.  When Marta died in 1969, she was buried on Randoy.  Halvord lived 9 more years and never forgave her and requested that he not be buried in the same cemetery.  On our way back, we stopped at the church in Hjemeland (the one my Dad had the picture of) and found Halvord’s grave.  We figured anyone who can hold a grudge that long must really be quite a guy! 

We laughed on the way home that Bertha Begoy and the entire island of Randoy will have something to talk about for weeks!  Whether it’s grandfather, first wife or second wife, all of these people certainly have become more interesting and real to me than the genealogy info of when they were born, where they lived, when they died.  I feel like I certainly have a much better picture of my grandfather and Marta, his second wife.  The picture is Bertha Begoy and  my cousin David.  Before I could take the picture, Bertha had to take time to fix her hair!       

Family Reunion

I’m on the Fjordveien, a rather small ship, leaving Karmoy Island after 3 days of family, family, family. (Karmoy is located at the southwestern corner of Norway between Bergen and Stavanger.) The sea is a bit choppy and the wind is blowing as we leave Skudeneshavn (Skudenes Harbor) at the very southern tip of Karmoy (-oy on the end of a word means island). It is an idyllic old port with white, wooden houses along narrow street and another PPLH(picture perfect little harbor). It’s quite something to meet about 80 people that I’m directly related to through our mutual grandfather, David Slaattebrekk. He has evolved from a handsome, sturdy, young man in the formal wedding portrait that I grew up with to a 130 kilo (X 2.2 for pounds) man who was very strong, had an easy laugh, was interested in everything, loved to talk to the neighbors, and all the grandkids loved him. He never finished anything--he would start a task like plowing the field and always find something better to do and call my Uncle Lauritz over to finish it for him! His house was filled with unfinished writings and research on various subjects.  Now, my grandmother is another story--contrary to the story my father told me -that his mother died when he was born in 1911, and gave that for the reason he grew up in a town named Hjelmeland with his maternal grandmother--all of Dad's four sibling were borne between 1913 and 1923 by his mother, Berta Elisabet Lauritsdatter who appears in in the same wedding portrait as a delicate, beautiful young woman in a bejeweled bunad. She actually died in 1941 after 10 years in bed and none of my first cousins remember her or have heard anything about her from their parents. In fact, my cousin, David, said his father, Uncle Lauritz, must have had some bad feelings towards his mother and would never mention her. None of their five children are alive now.

I am from the oldest generation alive now-- the first cousins. All of my first cousins that are still living came to the reunion except my two brothers. I have a cousin in Oslo, one in Bergen and another from a small town further up the west coast, but most live within a few miles of the farm where my great grandfather was born in 1851, my grandfather in 1886 and my father in 1911 and has been owned by his family for hundreds of years prior to that. I thought the reason that I didn’t know much about my Norwegian family was my father’s immigration and how quiet and reserved he was—as someone told me once “you Goddam, silent Scandanavian”—guess that was true for not only my father, but also for his whole family! My cousins, with one exception, know less about the family than I do! And much of what we think we know wasn’t true! Uncle Lauritz once took a train back home rather than ask for direction from a stranger. Aunt Helene talked incessently, but when it came to any family information that my cousin wanted to know, she clammed up sayinng, "certain things are better left unsaid." My Aunt Tora was an attractive young woman who suffered from severe depression and cousins only remember her as sitting in her chair and speaking "ja" (yes) and "nei" (no). Aunt Berta Davida is a shadow figure who no one said anything about.

First a little history about the region my family lives. Norway has been inhabited since the last ice age, but Norway as a country came into being in 872 when Harald Fairhair , one of the constantly battling chieftans, won a battle near Stavanger, conquered many other provinces and declared himself the first King of Norway. It took many more years, lots of bloody battles by mostly cruel and oppressive Kings with names like Eric Blood Axe to achieve actual unification of Norway’s far flung kingdoms . As the Viking age ended after 250 years of terrorizing the coasts of Europe and Leif Eriksson’s discovery of North America in 1001 (the Scandanavian historians are much kinder to the Vikings and prefer to focus on their trade and colonization of previously uninhabited places such as Greenland, Iceland and Orkney and Shetland Islands.) Karmoy's history dates back to the saga times when it was the “northway” shipping lanes that gave Norway it’s name. My cousin, Oskar, lives in Kopervik where burial hills, mounds, and stone pillars have revealed habitation back to the Bronze Age. He and his son, Knut, took me to the small town of Avaldsnes and St. Olaf’s church, built in 1248, where his mother-my aunt is buried. Near the wall of the church is a strange, 20 foot tall stone monolith leaning close to the church wall called St. Mary’s needle. Oskar said when the stone touches the wall Judgement Day will come and it’s currently just inches from the wall! The above King Harald Fairhair was always believed to live near and in the last two years, an archaeological dig adjacent to St. Olaf’s church has been ongoing on the site where artifacts were discovered during plowing of a field—they now know it’s the castle of this first king of Norway. The historic town of Ferkingstad 8 miles up the west coast a is where my father’s family’s farm is located at a district called Vikra. There are many small farms all over Norway and all are recorded in record books that are now available online and my cousin showed me the entry for Vikra farm #7 and a list of who has owned and lived on the farm. My father as the oldest son would have inherited this farm, but since he was in America, the next male, my Uncle Lauritz, inherited it on the death of my grandfather in 1956. All the houses in the neighborhood are owned by family members including a large white clapboard house that my great uncle Jacob built after working in America for several years at the turn of the 20^thcentury. Currently, several of my first cousins seen in the picture have houses clustered around each other on the farm. Interestingly, the original house, mostly dating from 1816 was sold by my cousin Liv Karin (the one in the Norwegian costume earlier) a few years ago to a Norwegian woman who lives in England and uses it as a summer residence!

It is almost claustrophobic to see all of this, hear my father’s history, and think about how most of the family reside in such close proximity to each other. Young people move into family homes and some build new homes close to their parents. In Norway, as almost everywhere else there is an exodus to bigger cities like Oslo and Bergen, but not for my family.

Bergen with Miriam

Heidi volunteered her childhood friend, Miriam,  to be my keeper in Bergen.  After the Hurtigruten docked, she met me at the bus station and we returned to her flat in Olsvik just outside of Bergen.  The picture is from her terrace as the sun went down.  Not only did she provided me with a bed, but meals, tour guide and this morning, we took the bus together from Olsvik, a suburb where she lives to Bergen to make sure that I got the right bus! 

Bergen is built on a peninsula and the city sprung up around the perfect, natural harbor.  Seven mountains surround the city and as Bergen grew outward, it spread up the hills and into other inlets like Miriam’s .  Bergen has a long history—briefly –it was founded in 1070 by King Olav Kyrre and by the 13^th century, the city became the first capital of a united Norway and a great ecclesiastical center with 20 churches, 5 monasteries and two hospitals for the poor. It’s importance increased when it became the hub of the medieval German Hanseatic League in the north.  One of the most photographed and visited areas in Bergen is the Bryggen, an area of Hansa houses and warehouses that line one side of the harbor.  Fire was the biggest hazard to these wooden houses, but in 1944, an explosion on an  overloaded German munitions ship devastated much of downtown Bergen including Maariakirke (St. Marys’ church), Hakon’s Hall and many of the houses along the harbor and into the surrounding hills and sent the ship’s anchor flying to the top of a nearby mountain.  Some of the houses were rebuilt and now Bryggen faces a new problem—the area is sinking and is slowly rotting.  There are periods of time during the winter months when the water from the harbor floods the houses. 

It alternated between light rain and heavy heavy most of the day, but like Seattle, I put on my raincoat and saw Bergen!  The historical center is easily walkable from the Fisketorget (Fish Market),the medieval hall of Hakonshallen, and the Bergen Knustmuseum  (museum) that holds some of Munch’s masterpieces  especially “Woman in Three Stage”, “Jealousy”, and” Melancholy”.  I discovered a new –to me- artist, Nikolai Astrup and a female painter, Harriet Backer. 

 Everywhere I’ve been from the extreme north to Bergen, the effects of World War II are overwhelmingly obvious.  In Bergen, the German munitions ship explosion is said to have damaged almost every building in Bergen!  As Hitler's army retreated, towns were destroyed as part of Hitler’s scorched earth policy.  Towns were rebuilt and there are very few signs of the devastation now except for some pretty utilitarian and kinda ugly architecture that was quickly built post war.  Maybe their revenge is that now Norway is getting all  those German euro from the tourists.  On the cruise, most of the passengers are Norwegian, but German is a close second.   I’ve only met one other American couple, a Canadian guy, and a young man from Australia on a walkabout.  But life is much easier for me that everyone speaks English.

Speaking of English, children start studying English in the first grade and an accent like my father had from learning English as adult, are nonexistent now.  There are no dubbed movies in Norway so American and British movies are all in English with subtitles. The wide use of computers has also made English an valuable language to know.   The cadence of Norwegian-Americans English in places like North Dakota and Minnesota—think “Fargo” are also absent in Norway.  They learn English so young, they learn all those rules of our language.  Teaching first grade English was voted the “most fun job” in Norway a few years ago.  Even though everyone can speak English and there are only 4 million Norwegians speaking Norwegian, there is tremendous pride in their language and there is no chance of English replacing Norwegian in everyday speech.  Also, they are rightfully proud of the Norwegian authors, composers and artists like Ibsen, Grieg and Munch.  Just an aside—I just finished reading   A Year of Reading the OED  ( OED stands for Oxford English Dictionary) and the author states that English has almost twice as many words as other European languages—or I think that's what I remembered-- and it’s obvious from the book that lots of those words are not words that many of us understand or use!  It does make learning English more of a challenge. 

  

Eating Alone

As you know, traveling by myself doesn’t bother me at all—in fact, I like it , but I hate to eat alone.  Sitting in a nice restaurant is a social event, not just feeding my hunger.  I know I’ve missed lots of wonderful food with my travels because most dinners are street food or something  I’ve take back to my room that is mostly not gourmet, or room service.  I decided before this trip that I was going to eat in the dining room every night and  I requested sitting alone.  I also find it exhausting to eat with people that I don’t know all the time—the conversation gets pretty awful sometimes!  I have friends who like to go out to dinner by themselves with books, computer or eavesdrop on other’s conversations.  I ate 4 dinners totally alone with either, a book, my netbook, my journal or having a mindful meal and paying great attention to what I was eating.  No one spoke English, so eavesdropping was out of the question.  One interesting aspect to this was to people-watch and, sadly, the majority of the people didn’t seem to be enjoying their companions!  The tables for four around me were an assortment of mismatched people—an elderly man with a new ascot every night and his elderly wife who only ate fruit paired with a middle-aged deaf couple who signed and when they tried to talk, it was difficult and almost unintelligible.  The other table by me was a 50ish couple paired with two 50ish women.  The women talked and the man acted silent bored until silence reigned after a short time.  The couple always left dinner first and the women would become animated, chatty and seemed to enjoy themselves much more!

 So, I may miss lots of good food, but I’m back to room service and street food .  I’ve tried it and I don’t like it!  I’ll save my nice dinners for sharing with the company of people that I want to spend time with!

The End of the Coastal Steamer Trip

Time has gone by so fast—can’t believe we’re already docking in Bergen tomorrow afternoon! 

The weather  has been fabulous with dry, sunny days that are so warm, the locals are wearing shorts and tank tops. I loved sitting out on the sun deck, watching the dramatic scenery pass by and reading my book. Also, like Seattle, everything looks better in the sun.

The Hurtigruten is a once in a lifetime trip where I went from the extreme north and the frontier town of Kirkenes traveling  even  further north to the northernmost towns in the world and then  spent 4 more days slowly moving along the protected west coast waters to arrive in Bergen tomorrow. The scenery was absolutely spectacular as anyone who has ever looked at a book about Norway knows.  There were several places that I wanted to spend more time exploring  and less time on the boat. I’d loved to have gotten off the boat in Kristiansund and drove the 8.2 km trip on the “Atlantic Road”, built with eight bridges and won  “Engineering Feat of the Century “ award in 2005.  One of the few remaining stave churches is along this route.  People who took this tour raved about it  .Next time.

The shore stops were definitely geared to drop off and pick up supplies, machinery and passengers, not for my sightseeing convenience!  Several times, I had one hour and even ½ hour in port.  When it was ½ hr stops, I watched from the deck and didn’t bother to get off.  Even on longer stops, I was always looking at my watch to make sure I could get back to the boat on time.  But again, I certainly saw a lot of towns and the scenery was spectacular.

Tronheim is another place that I’d like to spend more time.  Currently Norway’s third largest city, it traces it’s roots back to 997AD when the Vikings ruled the world—or their little corner of it anyway! .  The town is noted for it’s timbered houses dating from that period.  The Bakke Bru Bridge gives you a photo op of not only the bridge, but colorful warehouses that are being restored as homes and shops.  Also legend says that if you wish for something really hard while walking across Bakke Bru, your wish will come true—I’ll let you know! Tronheim was the old capital of Norway Nidaros (old Norwegian for Tronheim) Cathedral is Scandanavia’s largest medieval building and was erected over the grave of the first king of Norway, St. Olaf.  It remains the site of coronations ofthe Kings of Norway with the last being King Harald V in 1991.   I was surprised that the cathedral was open at 8:30 this morning and when I walked in a red robed person handed me a program and a hymnal.  As I read the program, it’s pilgrimage for St. Olaf from July 28 to Aug. 4 and this church service was part of the celebration.  The reformation might have brought Lutherism to Norway, but the prayer and recitations are straight out of a Catholic mass.  Outside a medieval fair was just setting up for another day of festivities.  (The music on July 30 and 31 was provided by Pacific Lutheran University Choral Group! It’s a small world.)

Lofoten Islands and the Bunad

I took an optional bus tour through some of  the Lofoten islands. They were more than picturesque fishing villages, sheltered fjords, and precipitous  mountains.  There are still generations of fishermen making  their living  from the sea as their fathers and grandfathers did—except they have motors on their boats instead of oars!  Cod is still being hung on drying rack in their yards because that’s the way it’s always been done.  I was surprised to learn that Italy imports over 85 % of the dried cod and it goes back to an Italian fisherman, shipwrecked on the islands in 1500’s.  and getting the Pope to start importing the food that saved his life   Lofoten is a favorite place of artist because of the light quality and scenery and galleries have plenty paintings from that area. This is also the land of the trolls, fairies, and other forest people that can’t see the light of day or they’ll be turned into stone—hence so many mountains and some entertaining stories.  The women in the Lofoten islands, like every place in Norway, had traditional costumes or bunad  I talked to a shop owner who  explained that girls are still given the national costumes when they are confirmed at 15 years old.  On her island the women living close to the sea have a blue motif and blue plaid apron and those inland have a forest green motif with a green plaid apron—they differentiate between sea-people and forest-people.  These costumes are expensive, even by Norwegian standards and can cost several thousand dollars.  The shop owner told me that families, including grandparents,  start saving for these when girls are very young and it’s a major expenditure for most families.  I guess it makes it easier that college is free but goes to show you, there’s always something to save for!  Ingeniously, the bunads are made so that women can gain about 50 pounds and still fit into them!  The side seams are 3 inches wide and the front can be laced open a bit further if needed.  The bunad is still worn for holidays, National Day (I saw lots at the National Day parade in Ballard May 17), and other special occasions.  My family has an especially pretty one and the picture is my cousin, Karin, at 15 when she got hers.  She is now close to 50 so I’ll soon see if she has needed the extra inches!

What is Hutigruten?

Hurtigruten started in 1893 when a relatively young Captain Richard With thought it possible to provide express boat service and mail delivery to some of the northernmost cities.  This quickly revolutionized communication between towns and villages.  Industries and coastal inhabitants had better access to the outside world.  Letters from Trondheim to Hammerfest which previously took 3 weeks in the summer and 5 months in the winter now took a few days.  As other shipping companies followed, the number of towns served expanded.  Now a ship leaves Bergen almost daily to begin the journey to north to Kirkenes on the Russian border and return south to Bergen. .  Hurtigruten specializes in delivering people and almost everything else between 34 ports along the rugged west coast of Norway.   Tourists have always been a part of Hurtigruten but as an anti-cruise-ship where life doesn’t revolve around the tourists.     There are no climbing walls, gyms, water parks or midnight chocolate buffets.  The ships are small by comparison to what we’re used to seeing headed for Alaska from Seattle.  They need to be able to enter small inlets and moor at tiny coastal communities where the ships dwarf their docks.  Some of these ports are visited during the night and a couple people told me that it can get noisy during the docking and off/on loading.  (We always tie up on port side and my cabin is starboard, so I don’t hear any of the noise!)  Tonight we are arriving in Tromso at 11:45 and one of the optional excursions is a concert in the cathedral between 12:15 AM and 1:15 AM! ­­­

 Barrier Islands buffer the rough North Sea and the icy Barent Sea.  Some of these ports are no bigger than a few houses and a large dock and people are waiting quayside for the ships to arrive.  Some are waiting for machinery, appliances, packages, friends and some are just there to wave to the passengers on the boat.  Stay in the different ports of last 15 mins to just pick up or drop off supplies to 3 hours with optional excursions.  The route revolves around the ports, not the tourists.  The scenery is the 24 hour event and in port, tourists can go ashore if there’s time, watch the loading/unloading take place or check it all out from a window in the lounge.   Part of the charm is watching a working ship going about the business of delivery people and supplies.  The deckhands efficiently moor the boat as they shout down to dock workers who’ve done this many times.  Pallets of supplies are effortlessly moved to the docks.  Southbound, fish and other commodities are loaded on to the ship.

Early on, Hurtigruten advertised the wild and beautiful Norwegian coastline and opened up previously remote places that were just too hard to get to.  The Lofoten Island (going there tomorrow), Skervoy Island, Hammerfest and North Cape (saw today) were readily available to international travelers and the Hurtigruten Coastal Express became one of Europe’s biggest tourist attractions.

I’m on one of the newer ships, MS Trollfjord.  They are getting more luxurious with a sauna, hot tub, lounge entertainment, a gift shop, bars and more excursions in addition to gourmet dining.  Breakfast and lunch are extensive buffets and dinner is an above average assigned table affair. 

Sent courtesy of the Rica Hotel in Trondheim!