Bergen of the Seven Mountains
It was 1976 and David Dundas was urging us in his hit song ‘Blue Jeans’ to put on a pair ofblue jeans. I was wearing my Brutus blues but as I sat in the departure lounge of Edinburgh Turnhouse Airport I felt somewhat at odds with the other female passengers who all appeared to be immaculately dressed in crisp fresh blouses and matching two piece suits. However, excitement was upon me, I was embarking on my first journey as a solo traveller to the city of wood — Bergen.
Bergen is a coastal city and is Norway’s second city. It is fondly named Bergen of the seven mountains because it is a city surrounded by mountains.
I had been gifted some money by my grandmother and I chose to spend it on a real adventure rather than the imaginary ones I read in story books. I love reading but now I had the opportunity to embrace my own stories. A country’s mythology and folklore provides a window into its history, society and culture. Norway’s world of fantasy literature is packed with mythical creatures including elves, dwarfs, giants and trolls. There are two different types of trolls. Trolls of the mountains and forests and Trolls of The Caves. I wanted to find out more about both.
I had booked into the Neptun Hotel and when I was greeted by the hotel usher I felt like a Hollywood film star. However, my room was a modest affair in the tawny fawn shades that was fashionable at the time. Two single beds, wardrobe, dresser with no en-suite but to me it felt as every bit as luxurious as if I had booked into the penthouse. The bed was ultra –soft and as I sagged into it there was no opportunity to drift into that liminal space of drowsiness, I fell instantly asleep.
The next morning, I inched into the dining room but moved to a quicker pace when I saw the magnificent feast before me. My experience of breakfast on holiday had been greasy and over cooked fry ups but now I had the option of walking leisurely around the table and choosing from a selection of cereals, fruit, sliced meats, cheese, and crusty bread unlike the sliced polystyrene stuff at home. As I sipped my orange juice , my ravenous hunger satisfied, the words of my friends interrupted my day-dreaming. “You can’t go alone — it’s not normal.” “Something could happen to you.” “Why don’t you come with us to Spain.” ”Norway’s freezing.” Bergen may hold Norway’s reputation for the highest rainfall but it is anything but cold in the spring and summer months.
Spain, has its own beauty but I just couldn’t cope with the mass of people singing “Una Paloma Blanca” and returning home with stuffed donkeys, sombreros and castanets. I wanted to experience travel in a totally unfamiliar place where I would not bump into people with a similar accent which would interrupt that sense of exploration and newness.
One highlight was my visit to Troidhaugen, the home of Norwegian composer Edvard Greig. His use and development of Norwegian folk music in his own composition brought Norwegian music to international consciousness. His story tugged my heart and I felt a kindred-ness towards him, like me he was an extreme introvert and until recently introversion was misunderstood as a personality trait and rather than being embraced, people were coerced ‘to come out their shells’ something detrimental to a child’s well-being, it certainly negatively impacted me.
Most mornings I took the funicular Flobanen up Mount Floyon to the Troll Forest, a place which silences the ‘must do’ and has a different rhythm from that of the clock. I enjoyed the six minute journey in the cable train which transported me to the beating heart of wonder. I spent the time sketching and had fun as an intrepid explorer on my Troll safaris. In the Troll forest I was at one with my pens and paper and could imagine a landscape filled with mythical characters. At lunch time I would eat in the restaurant and allow my eyes to wander the spectacular panoramic view over the city, fjords and mountains. I smiled as I re-imagined the giant squid like creature called The Kraken which allured seamen to their deaths because they believed they were navigating safely to land.
Due to a heavy influence of Germanic culture Bergen has a huge variety of sausage, and despite my love of fish and Bergen’s boasts an excellent fish market I enjoyed sampling the many types of sausage. Some for slicing like salami, some for cooking like smoked sausage and wiener/frankfurter types.
Perhaps it is inevitable that one’s first travel destination is the most favoured. It has to be said that there is something special about one’s first trip. I remember the sense of excitement, the first sniff of air that hinted its own distinct aroma, the one faltering step after the other into unfamiliarity.
As I write there is sadness upon me as I realise that on my return home I made a promise I would revisit. Unfortunately, I have not upheld my promise but there is a fear that is sizzling in my heart. No doubt Bergen has changed since my trip in 1976 and has morphed into a modern global city and I may just want to remember it as it was. Perhaps I will leave Bergen of the Seven Mountains as is, a beautiful memory.
