July 9-10, 2014
Bergen
-Wednesday
I suppose that this is as good a time as any to relate what the weather has been like here, especially since it will relate to the story.
After doing in-depth research (Google) on the average climes of Norway in the summer, I concluded that it would be mildish and packed accordingly. My first week here that proved true for the most part. However, during the second week the temperature increased steadily and by the end of the week it was oppressively warm. At first I thought it was an anomaly, but it has been just as hot ever since. Even the locals have mentioned it as a rare kind of summer. The people who brought swimsuits are happy. Not everyone brought swimsuits.
This relates because this is the weekend we were going to Bergen on a bus. The bus is Norwegian. Norwegian buses have lackluster air conditioning units. I guess what I'm trying to say is that our bus had a lackluster air conditioning unit.
The weekend we made our way to Bergen was not a regular weekend, it was our long weekend. A break from the intensive academic workload. So after class on Wednesday we were off until the next Monday. However, those of us who were going to Bergen would be busier than ever over the weekend, for we were leaving right after class at 2PM and we wouldn't be back until late Sunday night.
That day in class was our mid-term, so it was an afternoon of hurry. Complete the mid-term, get packed, eat lunch, get hair trimmed (optional), make it to the bus on time with everything I would need for four days in the old town. It turns out that I was able to do these things quite efficiently, even the hair trim, and made it to the bus punctually.
Not sure how many of us went exactly, but it must have been around 80-100, so the bus was at near full capacity. Which, as cool as the students are, did not help the temperature problem.
One of the first stops was at the Borgund stave church, and about five hours later we arrived. Where Heddal stave church is the biggest surviving stave church, Borgund is the oldest. It is also one of the most well known and has become somewhat iconic for Norway. Though there is a new church in Borgund became much too small for the increasing population, the old remains in use for special services. Again, to see this church was a primary reason for the trip.
It truly is in a rural area, which gives the church a nice atmosphere to exist in. Our tour guide was a young fellow who had long black hair, a scruffy beard and what looked like a heavy-metal t-shirt. In the early nineties there was a spree of arsonists who targeted these old stave churches and some of them were irreparably destroyed. These attacks were carried out by members of the black metal music scene. It is a long complicated story as to why they did this, and I'm happy to share more if you ask me, but I only mention it now because I was very pleased to see that this particular person who has (I assumed) an affiliation with the metal scene had the right appreciation for the stave churches as well.
A good portion of my art history class were on the trip as well, and they were waxing eloquent about all the things they knew about the stave church already from class. Our professor would have been proud, except for one moment when everything went wrong. In class we had learned that the stave church was dated to 1180 C.E. Knowing this fact was really an important part of Dan's life. In fact he seemed to have used this fact as a foundation for everything else in life he knew. We all need something to rely in if we are going to function in this every changing world of complexity and profundity. Up to this point Dan's life is wonderful, fulfilling, and satisfying in the most complete way. That was all destined to change, however, when our tour guide in an unintended moment of earth-shattering simplicity said, "We date the stave church to 1183 C.E."
No pain has ever traveled so quickly from the breaking heart to the face as it did for Dan. Contortions of agony transformed him into an unrecognizable vessel of despair. Those of us who knew how important this was for him turned to see the effect this new information would have in cinematic slow-motion. There was silence, but that was only because he was still catching his breath from the impact. Then the scream. The hair-pulling. The tears.
Of course though this really happened to poor Dan, I admit to taking a few literary liberties with the retelling of the story. It was actually much, much worse.
Carrying Dan, and once again dragging me and my camera away from this important element of Norwegian architecture, the group made their way back to the bus to continue the journey. Our next stop was our hotel for the evening, where had a dinner and a sleep.
-Thursday
The next morning we continued towards Bergen. Between us and our destination was a fjord. Instead of going around it or calling for a strong east wind to part the waters, we decided to take the ferry. The views from the fjord are hard to describe even with the help of the camera. We were surrounded by some of the best mountains Norway has to offer. Which in turn means that we were surrounded by some of the best scenes of nature that Norway has to offer. Not to mention the periodic picturesque little port villages that would come into view.
I am still relatively green to the art of photography, but I snapped away and with the help of a fellow traveler I got what I think to be decent ones. I might add that she was taking better pictures with her smartphone than I was with my DSLR camera, though. Tech is never better than its operator.
Our next stop is not only another beautiful view, but it was immortalized by the father of Norwegian painting, Johan Christian Dahl, in 1842.
After we had lunch here, overlooking the gorge, we returned to the bus once more before finally arriving in Bergen. There is more to tell, and it shall be told.
This relates because this is the weekend we were going to Bergen on a bus. The bus is Norwegian. Norwegian buses have lackluster air conditioning units. I guess what I'm trying to say is that our bus had a lackluster air conditioning unit.
The weekend we made our way to Bergen was not a regular weekend, it was our long weekend. A break from the intensive academic workload. So after class on Wednesday we were off until the next Monday. However, those of us who were going to Bergen would be busier than ever over the weekend, for we were leaving right after class at 2PM and we wouldn't be back until late Sunday night.
That day in class was our mid-term, so it was an afternoon of hurry. Complete the mid-term, get packed, eat lunch, get hair trimmed (optional), make it to the bus on time with everything I would need for four days in the old town. It turns out that I was able to do these things quite efficiently, even the hair trim, and made it to the bus punctually.
Not sure how many of us went exactly, but it must have been around 80-100, so the bus was at near full capacity. Which, as cool as the students are, did not help the temperature problem.
One of the first stops was at the Borgund stave church, and about five hours later we arrived. Where Heddal stave church is the biggest surviving stave church, Borgund is the oldest. It is also one of the most well known and has become somewhat iconic for Norway. Though there is a new church in Borgund became much too small for the increasing population, the old remains in use for special services. Again, to see this church was a primary reason for the trip.
It truly is in a rural area, which gives the church a nice atmosphere to exist in. Our tour guide was a young fellow who had long black hair, a scruffy beard and what looked like a heavy-metal t-shirt. In the early nineties there was a spree of arsonists who targeted these old stave churches and some of them were irreparably destroyed. These attacks were carried out by members of the black metal music scene. It is a long complicated story as to why they did this, and I'm happy to share more if you ask me, but I only mention it now because I was very pleased to see that this particular person who has (I assumed) an affiliation with the metal scene had the right appreciation for the stave churches as well.
A good portion of my art history class were on the trip as well, and they were waxing eloquent about all the things they knew about the stave church already from class. Our professor would have been proud, except for one moment when everything went wrong. In class we had learned that the stave church was dated to 1180 C.E. Knowing this fact was really an important part of Dan's life. In fact he seemed to have used this fact as a foundation for everything else in life he knew. We all need something to rely in if we are going to function in this every changing world of complexity and profundity. Up to this point Dan's life is wonderful, fulfilling, and satisfying in the most complete way. That was all destined to change, however, when our tour guide in an unintended moment of earth-shattering simplicity said, "We date the stave church to 1183 C.E."
No pain has ever traveled so quickly from the breaking heart to the face as it did for Dan. Contortions of agony transformed him into an unrecognizable vessel of despair. Those of us who knew how important this was for him turned to see the effect this new information would have in cinematic slow-motion. There was silence, but that was only because he was still catching his breath from the impact. Then the scream. The hair-pulling. The tears.
Of course though this really happened to poor Dan, I admit to taking a few literary liberties with the retelling of the story. It was actually much, much worse.
Carrying Dan, and once again dragging me and my camera away from this important element of Norwegian architecture, the group made their way back to the bus to continue the journey. Our next stop was our hotel for the evening, where had a dinner and a sleep.
-Thursday
The next morning we continued towards Bergen. Between us and our destination was a fjord. Instead of going around it or calling for a strong east wind to part the waters, we decided to take the ferry. The views from the fjord are hard to describe even with the help of the camera. We were surrounded by some of the best mountains Norway has to offer. Which in turn means that we were surrounded by some of the best scenes of nature that Norway has to offer. Not to mention the periodic picturesque little port villages that would come into view.
I am still relatively green to the art of photography, but I snapped away and with the help of a fellow traveler I got what I think to be decent ones. I might add that she was taking better pictures with her smartphone than I was with my DSLR camera, though. Tech is never better than its operator.
Our next stop is not only another beautiful view, but it was immortalized by the father of Norwegian painting, Johan Christian Dahl, in 1842.
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