The Long and Winding Road

The Long and Winding Road

Our departure north from San Luis Obispo occurred only two days later, happily ensconced in our new used car- a Mazda 5 that formerly belonged to my sister Mary Lud- she in the process of an upgrade to a newer white Mazda, with fewer than the 114,000 miles possessed by the old red one. Fine by us, as we anticipated driving the car hard across the country, beginning with a climb into the mountains of Northern California to see our youngest grandchild and his family.

The trip brought us through Santa Rosa, where we stood in line for more than an hour to score two six packs of Pliny the Elder (Pliny the Younger was unfortunately not on tap for tasting) so we left only partly satisfied. We will add the Younger to the bucket list…friends back home are sharing the bounty of the Elder.

The meeting point turned out to be a farmer’s market on the coast in Crescent City, just north of Arcata. The first glimpse of grandchild number 8 was at the stall where the produce from Marble Mountain farms was artfully arrayed beneath the canopy. Terran was chasing a carved dinosaur and Skyler was safely napping with his mother. I am certain that he is the first and only of our grandchildren with blue eyes and blond hair. He also justifies the nickname  “Smiler”…

We spent almost a week in Happy Camp, mowing and fixing and fiddling with small problems-( the screen closes smoothly now, the sink does not leak and the toilets all flush without running or leaking) but the best times were reading to Terran and rocking with Skyler- and of course, the beer and bacon with Hollis and Ross.

Our trajectory took us north to Bend for a quick pint and then on to Burns as we crossed Wyoming (with a night in a regrettable motel in Thermopolis) but a beautiful morning at the hot springs, and a passage though Sturgis and across South Dakota where we were chased by a huge thunderstorm instead of by biker gangs- we were there just a week before the annual ride and saw all the tents and gangs staked out in anticipation of the big event. Susan was happy to see it in passing…

We pulled into Minneapolis in plenty of time to catch a bite before joining the family- Sadie and Sawyer were back home from school and activities…

Spencer designed and sited a brilliant monkey bar set for Sadie that we built together over the next few days. Sawyer helped as best he could. Some beautiful bike rides around the nearby lake and Charlie Brown kite flying filled out the few hours we had together. Minneapolis was breezy and sundrenched… we can’t wait to go back. Hopefully in the warm weather.

We made the 6 hour trek to Columbus, Nebraska driving on back roads as much as possible. Dorothy was ready with a fantastic stir-fry, and we did several days of gardening and chores, which always helps to justify existence… better to work than to sponge. We had some good fun at the lake with Chuck and Amy, and managed to change Dot-Dot’s light bulbs and sort out all the various video display units and computers- not an easy task for those far from their teenage years. Where is a good college student when you need one? Everything will work until she turns it on or tries to do anything with any device. Then?  All bets are off.

Our next drive took us south to Nashville where we had a joyous reunion with nephew David and Jerusalem and Alexandria and hope, who had agreed to help transport a suitcase from Amsterdam after their visit to Oslo- we picked up the excess clothes we should have donated or thrown away and headed for Mobile, Alabama where we had a wonderful visit with my cousin Inman and his family. Inman is my father’s first cousin and our last link in the family to a generation that gave so much in service to this country. He was in great spirits and answered some questions I had about my father with grace and wisdom.

The following day found us sprinting across Georgia to make a late arrival in Wilmington, NC., at the home of Jim and Anne. We love coastal Carolina and hope to plan a visit to both Charleston and Savannah sometime in the future. Andrew and Stephanie were gracious hosts for a visit to downtown, taking a break from their valiant struggles with the effects of tuberous sclerosis on their beautiful 6-year old Oliver, who endures many seizures and medical procedures. They are in the process of switching from monthly trips to Boston to a more local program in the Raleigh-Durham area. With a mere 750 miles between us and home, we struck out for the final leg early in the morning, and had a great reunion for lunch in Washington, DC with old friend Gordon and new friend Connie. The final leg, begun a bit after lunchtime, was full of promise, but fraught with peril.  Stay tuned for Codicil 3…

Wait, Wait! Codicil No 1

Wait, wait- What? (Codicil Number One)

Every good lawyer knows that things get forgotten, even in the most carefully prepared documents,( like wills) so they have developed this clever thing called a codicil that acts like a ‘ps’ in a letter. I am certainly less competent at preparing documents than any of the lawyers I know, so this treatise is about to be extended by 3 tales, or maybe more if I get bored or become unusually loquacious.

So here goes Codicil One-

The Long and Winding Road…

Our departure from Norway at the end of June was mostly without incident- no last minute charges or bills, and a few shekels remain in our Nordea account for eventual charitable contributions. The route we chose for the return stateside was admittedly a circuitous one, beginning with a detour to Amsterdam in order to catch the nonstop flight to Fukuoka that happens only three times a week. We managed to arrange a stay with one of Jerusalem’s in-laws, and were able to visit with them all and the beautiful Alexandria and Hopie on a long canal boat ride. In addition, Jerusalem agreed to lighten our load by transporting one of our suitcases stateside, thereby saving two luggage charges and giving us a perfect reason to visit them again in Nashville on our drive across the country.

The flight to Japan was smooth and delightful, on a ticket paid for with Fulbright savings (frugal spending), on a KLM flight with a massive in-flight entertainment system. I did not sleep at all, and caught up on at least 6 movies as we crossed the continent. I am glad we scratched the idea of taking the train across Siberia.

We spent three wonderful weeks with the grandchildren in Miawaka, a small t town adjacent to a reservoir (think TVA) in the hills outside Fukuoka. Much of the time was spent preparing meals for the family, which s ships the oldest, Noah, off to school at 7 and then the rest of the family follows out the door by 8, with Teo, Isla, and baby Luke heading to day care and  Yuko and Quint heading off to the fabric designers and university respectively.  The time not spent in meal preparation was allotted for deck construction- Yuko had designed a deck to extend off their family room and had stockpiled all the materials, so my mission, should I choose to accept it, was to assemble the pieces into a coherent whole. Challenge met- when we departed the family was enjoying its huge outdoor living room in a tent provided by Dot-Dot, sitting on new chairs we found for them at Ikea. It was lovely to stay long enough that our presence was unexceptional for the kids, and perhaps slightly noxious to the parents, as long stays can become too long… it was a fabulous visit. We did not do as much sightseeing as in previous visits, but a return to the fantastic temple at Miaji-dake was a highlight. During our stay, Quint learned that his recently completed thesis was up for an award (he subsequently received a commendation on a recent trip to Kiel, and Yuko was featured as a model in some advertisements for the upscale scarves produced by her employer.

The flight from Japan to LAX marked our return to US soil, and our attainment of ‘circumnavigator’ status. We have walked on every continent but Antarctica and Australia, and we plan to do the Wallaby-Kiwi bucket list trip when the grandchildren are a bit older and will be able to remember it.

The last leg of the return part one was the rental car experience at LAX, a two hour marathon of waiting in line, , a la Disney, with the friendly people at Budget rental. To their credit, they did bring around bottled water and make every effort to keep us in the shade during the wait, and they processed a prodigious number of people in that two hour period. Also, the subcompact we reserved was ‘unavailable’ for the trip to San Luis Obispo, and they ’gifted’ us a much larger vehicle for the same price. I can state unequivocally that the Mustang we drove was one of the worst handling, most uncomfortable vehicles I have ever driven- and as an added bonus, it came complete with a nest of small biting ants that flowed from the doorposts and across the windows when the air conditioning was turned on… what a POS. We managed to arrive at my sister’s house without crashing the vehicle, and the response when I got the car back to the rental desk at the SLO airport was- “oh”, leading us to believe this was not an unusual occurrence for the folks at Budget… plus the gas consumption at $4 per gallon was double what it should have been. Welcome home!

What?…More?!!

What?!!! …There’s more???

 

Yes, dear reader, the last post was, as advertised, the penultimate post, which means there was one to follow! So, with the strains of the Doors ringing in my ears: “This is the end, beautiful Friend, the end…” and “When the Music’s Over”, I take keyboard in hand to tap out the final coda…

Norway has so much to recommend it. I hope everyone gets a chance to experience it, in person, and not vicariously. For those who worry that a ‘socialist nanny state will remove all ambition’, a visit here is a must. The high tax rates are balanced by a commitment to equality and opportunity, so that an illness in the family will never bankrupt anyone, and EVERY STUDENT may attend college tuition free… Are the tradeoffs in the economy worth the advantages? Perhaps it is time to engage this question in our own country.

We will not miss the high prices, but they do focus your mind. We have been amazed at what we can do without. Restaurants are expensive, so there is incentive to cook at home, and to have more control over the ingredients. Expensive but fresh produce and food is just like shopping at Whole Foods, all the time – at double the price. And higher taxes on alcohol, up to a point, discourage overconsumption, as do restricted hours for the (hard) liquor stores. Maybe Connecticut’s old ‘blue laws’ were not that crazy…

Schools that teach only academic subjects and which do not offer athletic or extracurricular opportunities are not my cup of tea, but they do limit a teacher’s responsibilities and concentrate his or her efforts. I have met many fine, dedicated professionals this year. Teaching is a calling. They do it well and responsibly here.

Most of our best experiences and connections began with the decision to join St Edmund’s Church, the small Anglican parish where the services are held in English and where the congregation immediately felt like a family. We had many great introductions and invitations as a result of this one connection, to the point that our stay was greatly enriched by this church and its people.

On a recent balmy afternoon, following the launching of my nephew David and his family on an exploration of the Bigdøy Museums (Viking Ships, Kon-Tiki, polar exploration ship Fram, and the Norske Folkemuseum – all must-see attractions, good for multiple visits), a celebration was gathering outside at the big city hall, The Rådhuset, where the Nobel Peace Prize is given every year. This gathering was different- it was outdoors, always risky in Norway, and there were bands and squads of police and cameras. When asked, one of the police volunteered that it was a ceremony to celebrate the return of the King from exile in England, where the government had sought refuge during the German occupation after the Nazis invaded the country in 1940.  After five years under the thumb of the Germans, ( who also occupied Denmark at roughly the same time , while leaving neutral Sweden to govern itself) the Allied victory in Europe produced a triumphal return in 1945 on the 7^th of June.   On this, the 70^th anniversary, the royal entourage made its way the two blocks from the palace to the square on the edge of the harbor. The Queen was in the first car following the security detachment, and as she climbed out of the Volvo station wagon, the king was close behind. As the huge Mercedes limousine pulled up, and the king stepped lightly from the back of the German stretch limousine, I may have been the only person in the crowd who enjoyed the irony.

And that’s a wrap. When I return, hopefully in triumph someday, I promise to hire a Tesla for my grand entrance…

Penultimate Post

The Penultimate Post

No amount of reflection seems to be sufficient to prepare for the end, and I have never been much good at endings. I have not managed to make many profound or meaningful observations during these 40-odd updates, but my output has at least been pretty consistent and I have tried to fairly record the things that happened during a year of work and travel in a slightly out of the mainstream country. I hope my Norwegian friends will forgive my blunders and cultural insensitivities, as displayed prominently in these pages, but we are forced to observe from a single perspective, no matter how hard we try to walk in other man’s shoes (see first post). And as one clever comedian once said, if they take offense, at least you’re a mile away- and you have their shoes!

There are many things I will miss about Norway- insert catalogue here- but first and foremost will be the sense of participating in a grand experiment, which is what Fulbright exemplifies for me. I have fired no weapons, and captured no prisoners, but I feel as though every day has been in at least in part spent in service to the high ideals of a program that makes a difference in the hearts and minds of the people we meet.

For the vast majority of the young students I have met this year, the United States is an abstraction, a much discussed but little understood foreign power that has an influence on their lives, but one that is hard to understand or quantify. Many of the movies and television shows they watch are produced there, but we produce what sells, and the marketplace does not always accurately reflect the truth. The news they are inundated with is told from a variety of perspectives, and Fox News (used as an example of an oxymoron in one of my more requested workshops) is a good example of how untrue a picture can be. The video game industry is highly influenced by the American market, and our tastes may skew to the more violent and less challenging puzzles, as the first person shooter is extraordinarily popular, and titles like Grand theft Auto in its six incarnations (pun intended) paints a very unrealistic picture of what life in America is like.

The most requested workshops by far- Government, Media Culture, and Public Speaking- gave me an opportunity to question stereotypes with students and explore how things actually work(or don’t) in the world’s richest democracy- although we are no longer the richest per capita {statisticians weigh in here). There are many things, both good and bad, that should be taken out and looked at, and sometimes it is easier to see your homeland from far away than it is up close, which is maybe a forest and trees kind of thing. Explaining and discussing, without trying to defend, has given me a new perspective as well. As flawed ‘culturally’ as the King and I may be, the lyrics in Anna’s song ‘if you become a teacher, by your pupils you’ll be taught’ rings as true for me as it did for the heroine. I have no illusions that any great or lasting good has been accomplished because I was here, but I do believe that the cumulative effect of a program like this far exceeds its cost. A lot more Fulbright scholars can be sent abroad before we begin to approach the cost of a nuclear submarine or an aircraft carrier…

It took a brief vacation away from Norway- we spent 8 days in Scotland with friends from the previous Fulbright exchange at Dollar Academy- to allow for a bit of reflection and sharing in the glorious sun of the Scottish countryside(very rare) with smart, caring people. This helped to underscore in part what we had gained from our previous Fulbright experiences, and to set the stage for our next adventure- which will include a long visit from a Norwegian teacher on sabbatical next year- and a return to dear friends in the neighborhood we love.

We depart from Oslo Monday on the first leg of the ‘grandparent grand prix’ a circumnavigation and touching base(quite literally) with all our offspring and their children. We anticipate it will still be summer by the time we find the shores of Diamond Lake again, but there are no promises…

Will it Never Stop?

Kroom-kaka kidding

Actually, it’s spelled ‘ krumekake’, but it sounds more like the title. And we were taught to make them using a traditional recipe handed down through the family by Dag, who used a huge, cast iron, Jotul brand hinged cooking machine that may even have served over a bed of coals at some point in its career, so blackened and venerable it looked, even though we did our work over a glowing ring on the stove… And the process, which is not unlike making a waffle or flat cookie, involves spooning a dough mixture onto the iron, closing it down, and then flipping it over half way through until both sides are evenly browned. The jaws of the machine are then pried apart, the warm soft cookie/cake is extracted, and then rolled quickly around a conic mold to create a finished product that resembles a waffle cone. Only quick and dexterous movements will avoid serious burns to the fingers, and the process is repeated until the whole bowl of buttery dough is flattened, cooked crisp and rolled, to produce a delightful holiday treat. This delicacy is served at Jul, traditionally, but can be found at classy ice cream stores at other times during the year, as they make perfect holders for ice cream.

During the trip to Aalesund, Susan found a traditional, heavy, cast iron Jotul of similar design at a thrift shop, and decided we had to bring it home with us. Unbeknownst to me, she packed it in my carry-on bag- (months of travel had taught me the value of traveling light to avoid the baggage carousel delays), so as I headed off to the airport with my computer and books in the same bag, I did not notice the extra weight. All was fine until the security screening, at which point many very elaborately uniformed but friendly men and women asked me to please step aside into the small room, where I was asked to unpack my bag. I discovered the krume-cake maker in the bag at about the same time they did; everyone was relieved to find out it was a cooking implement and not a medieval weapon or torture device. The reminder of the strip search was fortunately canceled, much to everyone’s delight. Despite the size and weight, the long handled cookie device would make a very awkward weapon…

For the past 7 months, I have never ventured out onto the streets of Oslo without seeing at least one abandoned glove. I think this may be the end of the vortex for lost gloves, just as somewhere else in the world random socks are deposited from washing machines.

People are very quick to rise from their seats as the train pulls into the station. I used to marvel at the contrast with the slow and methodical way they settled in to their places at the beginning of the journey, but as the train approaches the destination or the second the airplane stops, people leap to their feet and begin collecting their belongs in a headlong rush out the door. It may be related to the relatively short time the train remains in the station, and their desire to get out of the way of the incoming rush, but it still feels a bit precipitous.

In a similar vein, do not attempt to keep up with pedestrians on the streets of Norway. Everyone walks very briskly, unless they are pushing a pram, in which case glaciers can move more quickly. Pedestrian traffic jams have been known to occur due to these conflicting speeds…

In contrast, the pace of construction is maddeningly slow. We have watched in disbelief over 9 months as a small storefront has been transformed from empty space to a modern, sleep-number bed showroom, and a small octagonal kiosk has been a-building for that entire period as well at the other end of the street. In both cases, there seems to be no urgency whatever to the work, and things progress at a snail’s pace. We feel like cheering every time one process nears completion, but the next one seems to follow in slow motion. The gestation period for construction must approximate the pachyderm’s rather than the homo sapien’s.

Every warm day is followed by at least two cold days. Or two days of rain. Or both. One way or another, Norway will make you pay.

The item you come to love in the grocery store will be discontinued (Pepper –beef flavored potato chips) or become prohibitively expensive ( Freia chocolate company’s almond /milk chocolate candy bar ‘Walter’s Mandler’ has reached almost $7 per bar for a smaller and smaller treat. Insanely good, and unaffordable.

Hope it is warming up wherever you are.

REPENT (the End is Near)

Final Rovings/Ravings

The end of the year brings reflection, and a chance to meet again in Halden, site of the initial training and introduction to our connection to the Ministry of Education, the ‘Fremmedspraksenter’ or foreign language center for Norway schools. Halden is the site of a massive fortress that overlooks the fjord and defends the frontier with Sweden, and it has been the site of various unpleasantness between the two Scandinavian peoples through the years. Now all is friendship and light, however, with many young Swedes finding employment in the service sector where good money is to be made, while Norway happily consumes fine machinery and technology, in the form of Volvos and generation equipment, etc, from their former rivals. Each tells jokes about the other. I told my students the same dynamic exists in the USA between Georgia and Alabama during football season , or between UNC and Duke during basketball season, or between Texas and Connecticut pretty much all the time.

Part of the business of our gathering is to review the surveys that we ask teachers to fill out following our school visits, and while not everyone records their opinions and preferences, the vast majority of the almost one hundred responses felt that the Rover visit was helpful to their teaching. It was good to find a few contrarians, because if everybody liked what I tried to do, I would have been a ‘failure’, since that would mean I was playing too safe. Still, it’s hard to get past the parable of the lost sheep, and as shepherds of the program we tried to brainstorm for the afternoon on how to make next year’s Rovers even more successful.  I argued for a textbook library at the Fulbright offices so that Rovers could review what the classroom teachers were reading with their students to better integrate prior to the visit. I also thought it would be nice to have more access to consultation with actual classroom teachers to check ideas and answer questions, and even observe their teaching, an informal(or even formal) mentoring program, in place of watching two classes being taught in Halden on our first day.

Still, it was fun to share experiences and to review the progress made during the year. If someone had told me back in September I would be able to teach in a high school English class one day, a junior high school the next day, and teachers college the following Monday, it would not have seemed possible. That they all enjoyed the workshops and made positive comments was more than reward enough.

A review of the files shows 160 work/travel days representing visits to well over a hundred schools- not bad for 10 months. I think it qualifies as a school year- Kingswood Oxford used to claim 160 days was a full school calendar, but I think they work a few more now. The one thing I can say for sure- it flew by.

ALTA

Alta

The almost northernmost town in Norway, Alta sits above the Arctic Circle and is my first experience with the midnight sun this year. I say ‘midnight sun’, though for 5 days no sun appeared- just an overcast sky that never darkened. A few scattered rainstorms punctuated the endless light, but it was very weird to draw the curtain at midnight and have the sky still ‘glowing’ softly.

The visit to Hammerfest in early April was augmented by a bus trip down to Alta, but it was very early spring then and the snow still covered everything- it even snowed a few times while we were there. In contrast, this visit was brilliant. The trees were in bloom, flowers had blossomed, and the distant hills, though still capped in white, showed the grey streaks of an aging winter as the sun did its job. The spring is a season of striations here, as melting ice and snow expose the rock beneath, and rivulets of water become torrents as they cut their way through the stone to the sea.

And rock is the story of Alta, a United Nations World Heritage site, where petroglyphs from almost as long ago as the caves of Lescaux are carved with rock tools into a field of sandstone on the edge of the town.

These relics of human habitation are located just above what used to be the waterline, and consist of figures depicting boats, animals and people. Some amazing animals are carved into the rock, and some of the carvings have been highlighted with a bright red paint that was applied back in the 1970’s to make the figures more visible.

The site is essentially divided into painted and non-painted areas, and it is obvious why the decision was made to paint, because in one grouping of animals and hunters a huge spike had been driven by electrical workers years ago to secure the cable supporting a power line. Unless you know what you are looking at/for, it is very difficult to see the figures. When they were first carved, the freshly exposed surface would have stood out as a bright white against the weathered rock, but after several millennia, it has become increasingly difficult to see what the artist intended- some of the painting was ‘wrong’ as well, the modern artists misinterpreting the ancients. A debate rages over whether and how to remove the paint.

Meanwhile, the site is open for visitors and is accessed through an impressive museum filled with artifacts and cultural history of more recent habitation. The Sami culture is on display prominently in the collection, and there is a handmade boat that modern kayak builders would drool over, made of stretched and oiled sealskins.

Teaching at the University of the Arctic was a joy. The classes were small, the students- one class of future teachers, one class of students studying debate and public speaking- were lively and motivated, and needed much less coaxing than their high school counterparts.  In the past two weeks, I have had the great fun of teaching across the entire spectrum of Norwegian education, from junior high school through college, and it would have been a very different task if I had attempted it at the beginning of my tenure here.

Why is it that we get good at something just when we don’t have to do it any longer? The last weeks in Norway will pass much too quickly.

May 17

National Day A day set aside to celebrate the Constitution that established Norway as a self-governing entity, the 17^th of May is a combination of fancy dress ball and children’s parade. The entire country turns out for special events and celebrations, many dressed in a traditional costume called a bunad. This consists of wool breeches and stockings with vests and frock coats (with the occasional silly hat) for the men, and beautiful long woolen skirts with elaborately embroidered bodices and /or capes for the women. There are regional variations, and much as the Pennsylvania Dutch would be distinct from the colonists from Williamsburg or the Puritans from Massachusetts, each of Norway’s ‘home counties’ is represented and celebrated in costume. There were many flavors of hair decoration, from simple braids with ribbons to elaborate headpieces and close fitting caps, the ladies clearly carrying the day when it came to decoration. Many people wear the traditional costumes, but everyone dresses up, at least, and we added sport coat and long skirt to our ensemble as we joined the throngs in Oslo heading for the palace, where for more than 3 hours, the King and Queen, and the Prince and Princess and family, stood on the second floor balcony and waved to the thousands upon thousands of children who marched up Karl Johan to greet their leaders. The children, assembled by school, by sports club, by marching band or by whatever group claimed their loyalty marched gaily up the long sloping drive, waving their Norwegian flags, dressed in miniature versions of the bunad or in their finest marching clothes. The event is a grand tradition, a parade concept that has continued for more than 100 years (the Second World War during the German occupation was the only interruption, as the king was in exile in England), and has no military component whatsoever. The King’s private guard aside, we did not see a single gun, tank, or missile, no military vehicles of any kind, and no floats. Everyone walks. Many teachers are on duty, dressed to the nines and accompanying the children, and this is the exception that proves the rule: today, everyone is smiling as they walk, and no one moves to the other side of the street if you smile back. The entire day is a party, designed for the young and the young at heart. Near the top of the drive, where we were standing next to some of the TV cameras that provide wall-to-wall coverage of the event, the parade turns, and some of the groups execute smart maneuvers and special songs, as they pass beneath the eyes of the monarch on the portico. Banners are flying everywhere. The thronging spectators appear to be a part of the parade even as they watch it go by.  The wind was chill but the rain did not fall, and the wool costumes were gratefully snugged around proud shoulders. For the non-Norwegian spectator, it was akin to being caught in a Fellini movie. If one ignored the traffic signals and electric wires, it could easily have been a moment transported to a previous century. Against the classic backdrop of well preserved and maintained 19^th century buildings, the gaily bedecked crowds waved, and strutted and posed, a 360 degree immersion in patriotic fervor and children’s costume party. The post parade festivities include picnics, family gatherings and school fundraisers, where your 50 kroner buys a cup of weak coffee and a home-made pastry. Then, many retire to a favorite restaurant for a champagne toast and a traditional menu- sometimes featuring a specialty from each region. Susan’s special sampler included whale jerky… which she declined, so I can tell you- it tastes like chicken jerky, if you’ve ever tried that. The only thing missing for an American was the fireworks- a friend from Norway commented that blowing things up was so typically American – but in the interests of international diplomacy I refrained from informing him that we got the idea from Guy Fawkes, who attempted to blow up Parliament, which is why we spend our Independence Day sending fireworks into the sky.  We should probably all blame China, who invented the blasted things in the first place.  All in all, an almost perfect day.

Balastrand

Balastrand

Almost every package tour operator working in Norway offers a tour called Norway In a Nutshell, and while I have no idea why the ‘nutshell’ is in the title-squirrels do not travel much- their basic itineraries cover much the same ground. The trip will be a flight or bus to Bergen, a trip up the Sognefjord by fast ferry to Flåm, a very steep climb out of Flåm on a very scenic railway, and a return to Oslo by train over the mountain spine that separates the West of Norway from the East. Various iterations are offered, some involving bus travel, but the consensus is this: if you have a only a short time to spend in Norway, this trip will give you the flavor of the country’s variety, from beautiful fjords to mountain crests, to wooded hillsides and glacier-like scenery.

An opportunity to see St Edmunds’ choir in action led me to begin planning 3 months back to find a way to see at least a portion of this excursion, by meeting the choir at the opening of the church of St Olaf, in the peaceful resort town of Balastrand. Balastrand is one of the stops the ferry makes on its trip to Flåm. The wife of the owner of the Kvickne Hotel, daughter of an Anglican bishop, decided to build a small church at the turn of the last century for the summer guests where an evening worship could be held throughout the summer season. This chapel, completed just after her death, has been maintained and staffed by the Anglican church, and the annual opening is an opportunity to leave the confines of Oslo for a delightful ride by car, bus or plane, to welcome the spring to the fjord country.

The church itself is a jewelbox/dollhouse of ‘stave church’ design, copied by Disney animators in the hit animation Frozen, and the windows are clear, permitting the worshippers to look out on the glistening water during the services. The fjord at this spot is extremely wide and quite deep- stories of whales frolicking in the sun are not exaggerations. The sun rises early and warms the town and the gentle slopes beneath the towering peaks all day long, until late in the evening, now that the days are lengthening.

I arrived by error in the worst possible way. Instead of booking the plane to Bergen, the travel agent thought it would be cheaper and easier to fly to a closer airport in Sogndal, and then take a bus to Balastrand from there. Unfortunately, no buses run during the afternoon between the two towns, so my 5:00 arrival meant a five hour wait for the only bus, at 10pm that night. Do not make this mistake. The 5 hours on the ferry from Bergen is a much better investment of your time.

Once in Balastrand, you will have three or 4 hotels to choose from, but Kvikne’s commands a fantastic view of the water, and the dining room is by far the most grand. The room floods with light at dawn, and the sunlit breakfast groaning board of a buffet (complete with English tomatoes and beans) is dwarfed only by the ‘groanier’ smorgasbord dinner selection that will have you packing on every ounce you lost all winter. I repent not a mouthful.

The schools were both a half hour climb up the hill, so I was able to work off a few calories each day, and the students were receptive and lively. This was the first time a Fulbright scholar has been at these schools, so I feel I did my Willie Loman duty, opening up new territory for next year’s rovers.

The return to Oslo was as advertised. A ferry pulled into the dock just below the hotel at 11:55 for a breathtaking ride up the fjord to Flåm. I had a short layover in the town before boarding the train, time well used in a visit to the Aegir Brewery where they make my favorite Norwegian beer. The liquor laws thwarted me, however; while I was able to taste a pint in the beautifully ornate ‘viking’ pub, it was not permitted to buy their signature IPA to take home, as beer above 4.8% can only be sold in a government monopoly store. I found a nice selection of malty low alcohol beer for Susan and boarded the train.

The train takes an hour to climb its way to the top of the valley, in a series of switchbacks clinging to and cutting through the rock. For those doing the trip in the opposite direction, it is possible to rent bikes and ride down the construction road used to build the railway, an extremely popular trip during the good weather. The connection to the NSB train at Myrdal at 5 had us back in Oslo by 10.

Sunlit shores, snow covered peaks, and a great beer experience all in a single day. What’s not to like? I could get used to this life, if it wasn’t all coming to an end in a month-just when I’ve learned how to ‘rove’ in style.

Urban Vacations

Urban Vacations

One thing that Norwegians have in common is a love of and respect for vacations. The emptying of the capital city at Easter was one example, but there are others: Ascension Day is a big holiday, as is May 1, and nothing compares to the biggest of the big, Constitution Day on the 17^th of May. Norway’s National Day is similar to our July 4, or that 14 Juillet in France, a day when every citizen shamelessly parades their patriotism. Here, that takes the form of traditional costumes, students marching with their schools, and long parade past the National Palace, where everyone waves at the King and Queen, and their salutes are lovingly returned.

After the festivities, the action moves to yards, backyards, ‘koloni’, and island retreats, on the many small islands and peninsulas that crowd the Oslo fjord. The ‘Colonies’ are built on lands reserved by the city that are rented for life to citizens, and the leases are carried forward from one generation to another. Our friend Hilda waited more than 10 years for the chance to purchase a small colony cottage that had been kept in another family while the owner was abroad. She is in the process of renovating the small cabin, upgrading the kitchen and bath, and refreshing the tiny bedroom for summer occupancy. The cottage is grouped together in a community on the edge of the city, and the proximity to the urban center is one of its greatest charms. The compact cabin is on a small, well planted but overgrown plot, filled with fruit trees and gardens.

Many similar Kolonis dot the periphery of Oslo, and the land on the islands is likewise coveted and protected. Lars Christiansen’s book The Beatles contains many references to the family cabin and apple trees on the island of Nesodden, and the widely held nature of these camps and the growing wealth of the country has produced a scarcity, and upward pressure on prices. The papers today carried an account of small camps costing more than a million kroner, and even at today’s exchange rates, that’s a healthy chunk of change for two or three unheated rooms. The opportunity to commune with nature, to escape the confines of apartment or condominium living, and the importance of gardens explains the fascination with these camps. Norway likes to keep nature close.

A trip down the fjord on the ferry from the wharf at Oslo’s Aker Brygge to Drobak offered the opportunity to see many of these beautiful cottages, isolated and yet so close to capital, in the shimmering light of a spring afternoon. The sun sets later and later these days, and by the solstice will be in the sky for a full six hours longer than it was during the winter. The warmth is infectious, and Oslo is blooming.