So my friends, it's been a while since I've spilled my thoughts, dreams and adventures into this blog...adjusting to office life has drained me more than I though. Poor excuses as usual- let me just get on with detailing our latest jaunt to the far Scandinavian North. Half pilgrimage to the hometown of Patrick's ancestors, half curiosity about a different kind of Europe, this trip was always going to be rich with experiences. If only we had been rich with money...
Yes, we always knew Norway and Sweden were always going to be a little pricier than other destinations- but it somehow still came as a shock to pay £10 for a pint. Luckily, living in London had prepared us a little for extortionate prices- so we quickly adjusted, and just drank those beers a little slower than usual.
Oslo was first up on our little itinerary, where we got to sample one of Norway's culinary delights- massive baskets of peel-and-eat shrimp by the seafront. Sadly, we didn't get to try the squeezy caviar...but the grilled elk was pretty tasty at the Grand Cafe, once a favourite haunt of the playwright Henrik Ibsen. Serene, simple, subtle, yet proud of its artistic ancestors such as Munch and Ibsen himself, Oslo was a great starting point to a busy week.
Next, the scenic train ride from Oslo to Bergen, with fantastic views...even better with a glass of wine in the buffet car, away from the shouting tourists in our carriage. Beautiful mountains, acres of pine forests, rushing rivers and cascading waterfalls passed us all the way to Bergen- the gateway to Norway's famous fjords.
Then it was time for....drumroll please...Jen's Next Biking Saga! Well, it's time I got a little better at this biking thing- the last two times in China and Laos were a little shaky, to say the least! What better way to refine my skills than with a 25km bike ride along Hardanger-fjord? A little tougher than we thought- the hills at the beginning and end made us feel particularly out of shape! I'm not going to lie- at one point towards the end, I was seriously doubting my ability to make it. My fear of riding downhill and speeding up too much did little to help my speed of completion, to say the least. But the ride inbetween, with the lovely fjord views, quaint red houses, with very few souls on the roads- glorious. Not to mention the cherry orchards, with little cherry huts outside to pick biking snacks from- guarded only by a box, a price and a whole lot of trust.
Bergen itself was a great little city- even if the weather was a little wet. We treated ourselves to yet more shrimps at the 100-year-old fish market, and even a little king crab too. The night was finished off nicely with a visit to the fantastic old Bryggen area- even better, we managed to shelter from the rain in a cosy dark-wooden pub, where we got to here not one, but two of Bergen's finest singing talents. The one girl may have looked about 14, but she had a voice like butter- greatly enjoyed by all, especially by the random Swedish man who came in from the street just to sway his arms in appreciation.
Next, we headed by plane to the town of Patrick's anestors- lovely Lulea, way up in the North East of Sweden. We wanted to toast our arrival here with aquavit- a traditional Scandinavian spirit made with carraway seeds- but unfortunately had to give it up at security. As soon as we landed in Lulea, with its population of 46,000, Operation 'Search for Bergmans' began.
We began by wandering the city, looking for doppelgangers...this did not prove fruitful. Next, we used our knowledge that Patrick's great-uncle was president of Lulea's rotary club; we discovered that this same club regularly met in the hotel next to ours! When we went to inquire, we'd sadly just missed the club members having lunch, so we reverted to Plan B- a trip to the charming village of Gammalstad. A UNESCO World Heritage site, Gammalstad is the best preserved church village in Sweden- who knows, maybe some Bergmans once walked in our footsteps? Magarita's restaurant served some pretty good char and reindeer too- and some impressive (though eternally creepy) elk taxidermy upstairs. Gammelstad is still a functioning village, and we got to experience modern village life with an old car show held outside the church. History of all sorts here to take in!
The fun didn't stop there in Lulea. After a venture into our hotel's English pub (which had more alcohol choice than many pubs in England), we saw that a boat that had looked sleepy by day, docked in the harbour, was now pumping by night- a Wednesday night at that. Wanted to see what the fuss was all about, we sneeked a peek- and got our first glimpse into the Swedish party scene. What made this 'club' unique was the mini casinos in every corner, surrounded by tipsy party-goers wanting to take their chances. It was only in Stockholm that we realised this was a regular Swedish club feature- but more on that later...
Back to Lulea. During our whole time there, we probably saw half an hour of dark- if you can call it that. When we came out of the boat club at 1.30am, it was the darkest the night was going to get- the equivalent to the first twinges of twilight. One hour later, it was light again- as in mid-morning light, not sun-rise light. A very surreal experience- I now understand why those Lulea residents were keen to party on a summertime weekday. I can't imagine what it is like here at night-time- a wintertime visit is definitely in order, I think, just to appreciate the beauty of this long summer.
After a nasty shock where we got to Lulea's train station and discovered we were actually getting a bus (logical after booking on a train website?!), we ended up in Sundsvall. Just a brief stop here, to soak up the atmosphere of Patrick's other ancestral town. This little coastal town once suffered from one of Sweden's largest fires (loving the superlatives right now- obviously inspired by Attenborough on 'Frozen Planet', our chosen holiday-transit-watching). Anyway, after all the characteristic wooden buildings were destroyed, stone buildings were built in their place; it was lovely to walk through here in the sunshine, with the strong sparkling walls sparkling 'hej hej' (prounced 'hey hey!', hello) at us.
And so, last but by no means least, we have the capital of Scandinavia...Stockholm. I had no idea Stockholm was surrounded by so much water- peeking down the narrow labyrinth of lanes in Gamma Stan (Old Town), there was always a tease of the harbour in the distance. Here, I decided to try 'herrings' Swedish style- in mustard, in horseradish sauce, picked, just with a sprig of dill- I get the impression there is no limit to the number of ways the Swedish eat their treasured strömming. On a more colourful note, we got to see the vibrant blue of the Royal Guard's uniform outside the Royal Palace, as well as experiencing the rainbow of colours in Stockholm's very own Gay Pride Parade- Patrick's second of the year!
We had to party Swedish style while visiting its capital, so we decided to dance with Stockholm's finest in one of the city's shiny clubs. Of course, we stuck out like a sore thumb- but it was fun to observe how the Swedes groove- and obviously show them how Brits and Canadians strut their stuff...
Wanting to make the most of our short trip, on our last day we decided to venture out to Fjordgarden, one of Stockholm's 24,000 surrounding islands, and apparently the 'royal family's playground'. No royal-spotting here, just plain ol' chilling- oh, and a quick dip in the freezing sea. Where there's a body of water, there's gotta be a bit of swimming (shark and croc infested waters excepted).
Norway, Sweden...you may have bled me dry financially, but your seafood, unique daylight hours, and your charming cities made every krona worth it. I'll take away a curiosity of herrings, a fondness for saying 'hej hej!' cheerily as you Swedes do, and ever so slightly improved biking skills. Takk!
(Excuse the random assortment of photos- these are from my phone and camera, and I quite like them all scattered like this in a random order!)
Yes, we always knew Norway and Sweden were always going to be a little pricier than other destinations- but it somehow still came as a shock to pay £10 for a pint. Luckily, living in London had prepared us a little for extortionate prices- so we quickly adjusted, and just drank those beers a little slower than usual.
Oslo was first up on our little itinerary, where we got to sample one of Norway's culinary delights- massive baskets of peel-and-eat shrimp by the seafront. Sadly, we didn't get to try the squeezy caviar...but the grilled elk was pretty tasty at the Grand Cafe, once a favourite haunt of the playwright Henrik Ibsen. Serene, simple, subtle, yet proud of its artistic ancestors such as Munch and Ibsen himself, Oslo was a great starting point to a busy week.
Next, the scenic train ride from Oslo to Bergen, with fantastic views...even better with a glass of wine in the buffet car, away from the shouting tourists in our carriage. Beautiful mountains, acres of pine forests, rushing rivers and cascading waterfalls passed us all the way to Bergen- the gateway to Norway's famous fjords.
Then it was time for....drumroll please...Jen's Next Biking Saga! Well, it's time I got a little better at this biking thing- the last two times in China and Laos were a little shaky, to say the least! What better way to refine my skills than with a 25km bike ride along Hardanger-fjord? A little tougher than we thought- the hills at the beginning and end made us feel particularly out of shape! I'm not going to lie- at one point towards the end, I was seriously doubting my ability to make it. My fear of riding downhill and speeding up too much did little to help my speed of completion, to say the least. But the ride inbetween, with the lovely fjord views, quaint red houses, with very few souls on the roads- glorious. Not to mention the cherry orchards, with little cherry huts outside to pick biking snacks from- guarded only by a box, a price and a whole lot of trust.
Bergen itself was a great little city- even if the weather was a little wet. We treated ourselves to yet more shrimps at the 100-year-old fish market, and even a little king crab too. The night was finished off nicely with a visit to the fantastic old Bryggen area- even better, we managed to shelter from the rain in a cosy dark-wooden pub, where we got to here not one, but two of Bergen's finest singing talents. The one girl may have looked about 14, but she had a voice like butter- greatly enjoyed by all, especially by the random Swedish man who came in from the street just to sway his arms in appreciation.
Next, we headed by plane to the town of Patrick's anestors- lovely Lulea, way up in the North East of Sweden. We wanted to toast our arrival here with aquavit- a traditional Scandinavian spirit made with carraway seeds- but unfortunately had to give it up at security. As soon as we landed in Lulea, with its population of 46,000, Operation 'Search for Bergmans' began.
We began by wandering the city, looking for doppelgangers...this did not prove fruitful. Next, we used our knowledge that Patrick's great-uncle was president of Lulea's rotary club; we discovered that this same club regularly met in the hotel next to ours! When we went to inquire, we'd sadly just missed the club members having lunch, so we reverted to Plan B- a trip to the charming village of Gammalstad. A UNESCO World Heritage site, Gammalstad is the best preserved church village in Sweden- who knows, maybe some Bergmans once walked in our footsteps? Magarita's restaurant served some pretty good char and reindeer too- and some impressive (though eternally creepy) elk taxidermy upstairs. Gammelstad is still a functioning village, and we got to experience modern village life with an old car show held outside the church. History of all sorts here to take in!
The fun didn't stop there in Lulea. After a venture into our hotel's English pub (which had more alcohol choice than many pubs in England), we saw that a boat that had looked sleepy by day, docked in the harbour, was now pumping by night- a Wednesday night at that. Wanted to see what the fuss was all about, we sneeked a peek- and got our first glimpse into the Swedish party scene. What made this 'club' unique was the mini casinos in every corner, surrounded by tipsy party-goers wanting to take their chances. It was only in Stockholm that we realised this was a regular Swedish club feature- but more on that later...
Back to Lulea. During our whole time there, we probably saw half an hour of dark- if you can call it that. When we came out of the boat club at 1.30am, it was the darkest the night was going to get- the equivalent to the first twinges of twilight. One hour later, it was light again- as in mid-morning light, not sun-rise light. A very surreal experience- I now understand why those Lulea residents were keen to party on a summertime weekday. I can't imagine what it is like here at night-time- a wintertime visit is definitely in order, I think, just to appreciate the beauty of this long summer.
After a nasty shock where we got to Lulea's train station and discovered we were actually getting a bus (logical after booking on a train website?!), we ended up in Sundsvall. Just a brief stop here, to soak up the atmosphere of Patrick's other ancestral town. This little coastal town once suffered from one of Sweden's largest fires (loving the superlatives right now- obviously inspired by Attenborough on 'Frozen Planet', our chosen holiday-transit-watching). Anyway, after all the characteristic wooden buildings were destroyed, stone buildings were built in their place; it was lovely to walk through here in the sunshine, with the strong sparkling walls sparkling 'hej hej' (prounced 'hey hey!', hello) at us.
And so, last but by no means least, we have the capital of Scandinavia...Stockholm. I had no idea Stockholm was surrounded by so much water- peeking down the narrow labyrinth of lanes in Gamma Stan (Old Town), there was always a tease of the harbour in the distance. Here, I decided to try 'herrings' Swedish style- in mustard, in horseradish sauce, picked, just with a sprig of dill- I get the impression there is no limit to the number of ways the Swedish eat their treasured strömming. On a more colourful note, we got to see the vibrant blue of the Royal Guard's uniform outside the Royal Palace, as well as experiencing the rainbow of colours in Stockholm's very own Gay Pride Parade- Patrick's second of the year!
We had to party Swedish style while visiting its capital, so we decided to dance with Stockholm's finest in one of the city's shiny clubs. Of course, we stuck out like a sore thumb- but it was fun to observe how the Swedes groove- and obviously show them how Brits and Canadians strut their stuff...
Wanting to make the most of our short trip, on our last day we decided to venture out to Fjordgarden, one of Stockholm's 24,000 surrounding islands, and apparently the 'royal family's playground'. No royal-spotting here, just plain ol' chilling- oh, and a quick dip in the freezing sea. Where there's a body of water, there's gotta be a bit of swimming (shark and croc infested waters excepted).
Norway, Sweden...you may have bled me dry financially, but your seafood, unique daylight hours, and your charming cities made every krona worth it. I'll take away a curiosity of herrings, a fondness for saying 'hej hej!' cheerily as you Swedes do, and ever so slightly improved biking skills. Takk!
(Excuse the random assortment of photos- these are from my phone and camera, and I quite like them all scattered like this in a random order!)
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| Grilled elk at the Grand Cafe |
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| Waiting for the Oslo to Bergen train... |
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| Norway's meatballs with lingonberry jam! |
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| Helmet mark- reckon it was a bit tight... |
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| The village of 'Herand', where we finished our bike ride... |
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| Sunsvall... |
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| Sunsvall in the sunhine... |
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| 'Saluhall'- Stockholm's own food market |
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| A cherry hut on the road. |
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| Seafood at Bergen's fish market... |
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| He shoots... |
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| ...he scores! |
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| Lulea at 2am... |
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| ...without flash! |
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| A beer/cider/sour apple thing...that was delicious! (I'm selling it well...) |
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| Bit nippy! |
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