Pining for the fjords

(Jim)

M. S. Trollfjord

We are here in Bergen, Norway, where it is cold and rainy.   Based on Friday's wholly atypical temperature of 70 degrees, we are all dressed in shorts except for me.  During our morning walkies around the city, the kids complained bitterly about the cold, wet, and lack of same-age playmates.  I tried to distract the kids by pointing out that Norwegian is a Germanic language, and observing the German tendency to make new words by joining a long string of existing words.  After some discussion, Amy and I coined the new word, 'worldtrippinkinderbitchin,' which we felt was an apt description of the attitude of our kids toward the Scandinavian iteration of our adventure.

A stop in a coffee shop for hot chocolate did much to turn away wrath.  Afterwards, the kids decided they wanted a familiar meal to remind them of home.  So we had Chinese.  (We are looking forward to our arrival in Beijing next spring, at which point we plan to immediately seek out a Norwegian restaurant for smoked herring and potatoes.)

Fjords in the (rare) sunlight

Katharine spent all of her accumulated allowance, plus another four weeks on margin, to buy a print of boats. 

In two hours, we are allowed to board the hurtigruten M. S. Trollfjord, our home for the next week.  The hurtigruten is a cargo-liner, which carries both passengers and cargo to and from the isolated coastal towns and cities of Norway's west coast.  Our voyage will take us from Bergen north to Kirkenes above the Arctic Circle, and only a few miles from the Russian border.

Leif Ericsson, first European-American

A beautiful summer day in Bergen

Chocolate cures all

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