Toruń

There has been much to absorb since we arrived in this beautifully-preserved medieval city.   It’s impossible to go wrong in a World Heritage Site that is famous for both gingerbread and Nicolaus Copernicus!  It has the charm and history of Gdansk, but on a much more relaxed scale, as it is not really a tourist attraction.  At the heart is an intact Gothic old town, with red brick churches with lavish gilt and gold interiors, crooked, cobblestone streets, the original city walls and towers that date back to the 1300s.  Thankfully, it escaped much of the destruction of WWII.  We arrived via a two hour train trip and decided, as we usually do, to simply walk to our lodging and that included trekking across one of the longest bridges I have ever dragged a suitcase behind. 898 meters becomes a marathon when you are also shouldering a backpack with wine, a large Polish sausage, Italian seasoning and a hunk of Parmigiana, because, that’s how it goes when you travel with a cook.  

First view of Toruń, taken from the middle of the bridge.

View from my bedroom window, up many flights of stairs (all different).

We logged a lot of steps today, and that was impressive given that there were a few cloudbursts that we had to duck around.  Fortunately (or not), we are on the top of our building and it is easy to see the boiling clouds headed our way.   The sound of the rain pounding through the night is paradoxically jarring and soothing.

It is impossible to do justice to this magical place with only photos.   It is so authentic and yet so inviting, with beautiful cafes and restaurants lining each square and cobblestoned corner.   The prices are enviable, especially when compared against the Norwegian kroner.

The only fly in the ointment is our lodging.   Fortunately, we have an extremely low bar to compare it to (Noni’s in Florence, Italy in 2021, where I refused to sleep in the bed until they supplied new linens, and Dave spent four hours fixing the WiFI).   This place is not friendly for kitchen crews, with a deplorable lack of utensils, including, most importantly, a corkscrew.   What kind of an Air BnB forgets that?  But, they did not reckon on solid Canadian tenacity and in the end, we triumphed.   

Another full day here tomorrow, and then Poznán welcomes us.   We’ve come a long way to witness a special clock where goats butt heads on the hour.  Can you blame us?

   We won.

The flowers here are still in full bloom!  

The fourth, and final staircase to our apartment, which is not half as elegant as it looks.  Trust me.

A Day of Wander and Wonder

We are only 15 minutes from the centre of Gdansk, and we have now walked through it at least three times.  Each time, there is something different and even more wonderful to see.  

Today’s first mission was to locate the train station and consult a very helpful lady who processed all of our tickets to Torun, Poznan, and then Dresden, all by rail, all cheap as borscht.  She frowned as she explained in her fragile English…. I will not issue you tickets from Berlin to Dresden.  Different country!  Way too much money!  She was right, it was far more reasonable to do it that way.

Remind me I said that in case this all blows up, right?

(No.   All is good).

We wanted to explore the park that is across the street from our lodging, and once in it, were delighted with a network of trails and pretty ponds.  We could hear some pretty raunchy music floating in from somewhere and, as is our nature, we immediately searched it out using aural technology.   A climb up a hill revealed a huge gathering and a rock style band revving up everyone for the start of a marathon.  The sight of pink balloons, pink ribbons and a lot of pink-haired competitors put a lump in my throat.  It was a “The Cure for Breast Cancer” race.   

Solidarity, my sisters. ✊🏻

Thrills today included a wander through the Franciscan Church of the Holy Trinity, whose history reaches back to the early 15th century, with the present great church completed in 1514.  It was absolutely full of artifacts and history.  We were the only ones there, and spent a quiet, meditative time listening to the organist practice.  What a privilege.  

 We wandered past the Wieza Wiezienna (Prison Tower) - and a heck of a formidable one it is - part of the Renaissance prison complex on Dluga Street.   And, we returned to St. Mary’s for a chance to see the amazing astrological clock, built by Hans Duringer of Torun (where we will be tomorrow!) in 1464.   It is too big to photograph in one shot so I just captured the top of it.  

The church of two saints - St. Peter and Paul, was a splendid Gothic church, embodying medieval Gdansk, the reformation, the scars of WW2, and Catholic history.  

It was, after all, the Sabbath today but we did work out some life balance with a stop at a lovely Italian restaurant beside the canal for a pizza ai quattro formaggi - the best I have ever had.  

And an Aperol, my first - and absolutely delicious.

Mariacka Street and Many Gargoyles

We spent a happy few hours wandering Mariacka Street this morning, strolling through medieval Gdansk.   Much of what we saw had been painstakingly reconstructed after the devastation of 1945, when Gdansk’s historic centre was very badly damaged.  It’s remarkable how authentic it still feels.  There were lots of tourists, but it is, after all, Saturday.

We stopped at St. Mary’s Basilica, only to find a service in progress, and an outstanding baritone singing the hymns.  He was accompanied by an organ so powerful you could feel it in your chest.  One of those unexpected travel moments that you couldn’t have planned.  Because the service was underway, we couldn’t get close to the 15th century astronomical clock, and we will return later today or tomorrow to see it.   It dates to 1464-1470 and is an extraordinarily medieval mechanism.  

 Mariacka Street will take some exploring, as it is somewhat reminiscent of La Ramblas in Barcelona - lots of people-watching, restaurants, vendors, shops and people everywhere, but on a much more intimate scale.  A place to stroll slowly and stop often.  And a beautiful sunny day to do so!

For now, a large pan of roasted veggies is busy caramelizing for dinner, and more creative planning is underway for the travel legs ahead.

Pierogi and Perla Chmielowa Beer

It’s been a day.  We left the torrential rain behind us in Bergen, returned the rental without issue, and rather enjoyed the short 1.5 hour flight to Gdansk.  

Bit of a challenge finding our lodging, which is humble but right next to a lovely park and up the street from the policia.   One would think that infers safety.

The laundry has been started as we finally have a place with that convenience.   And very soon we will wander off to Pomelo Gdansk for some traditional Polish food.   It’s 10 degrees warmer here, the skies are blue, and I am ready for another adventure!

Orchards, Waterfalls, and a Very Good Driver

A spontaneous road trip this morning.  We needed milk for the chowder, a 15 minute drive to a little store, but when we zoomed past the Kiwi convenience, I knew we were in for another adventure.  

Norway has a way of making you very aware of the terrain, especially on highway 7. We wound our way along narrow mountain roads, climbing and descending, curving around rock faces and valleys, with enormous trucks and buses occasionally coming toward us. For the most part, though, the traffic was remarkably light, which was just as well, because some of those roads don’t leave a lot of room for error when two big vehicles meet.  And through all of it, Dave was completely calm and in command. He handled the mountain roads with the sort of quiet confidence that makes the passenger relax. No drama, no white-knuckle moments, just steady speed, careful positioning and an apparently unshakable ability to judge exactly where the car belonged on the road. Even when a massive truck or bus appeared around a bend, Dave simply dealt with it.  And benevolently ignored my right foot that kept seeking the invisible brake pedal.

I have to admit, there were moments when I looked at the road ahead - sheer mountain on one side, spectacular drop on the other  - and thought, really? We’re driving up here?  Dave, meanwhile, was probably working on a complex NOK to Canadian dollar equation.

This is apple growing territory, and the trees were heavy with crimson apples.  We stopped at a roadside stand and bought a heavy bag of mixed apples, all perfect and juicy and sweet.  Munched what we wanted, sent the cores to the deer, and will leave the rest for our hosts.

And then there were the tunnels.   We have come to love the strange magic of Norwegian tunnels because every time you emerge, you seem to be in a different country.  Surprise!  You disappear into darkness and a few minutes later come out into completely different weather and topography. Rain can become sunshine. Grey skies become brilliant light. Lush green slopes give way to bare rock. A narrow mountain pass opens suddenly into a broad valley. The temperature seems to change along with the scenery.  It’s like there are landscapes stacked one behind another, and the tunnels are the doors between them.  Norwegian Narnia.

Today one of those landscapes was particularly spectacular - a huge mountain face streaked with waterfalls, the water running down the rock in dozens of long silver veins. It wasn’t one famous, designated waterfall - just the mountain itself seemingly leaking water everywhere.  I wish I knew the source of these bursting waterfalls, it is the only time I have wanted to employ a drone.  

We could not curb our curiosity and so pulled over at Dale, a small village that has provided exquisite winter Olympic sweaters to the competitors for at least 75 years. And they were stunning, all of them, made with the kind of quality one rarely sees.   My enchantment took a tumble when I did the conversion.   My favourite one was $600 Canadian.   Instead, I zipped up my coat so that my Temu sweater was no longer visible, and marched penuriously out of the building.

By the end of the day, it wasn’t really any particular destination that stood out. It was the whole experience: the orchard and its apples, the mountains dripping with waterfalls, the giant trucks and buses sharing impossibly beautiful roads with us, the quiet stretches where we seemed to have Norway almost to ourselves, and my brother steering calmly through it all.

One more full day in Norway.  Tomorrow, we will explore north.   Or south.  Who knows.

Fjellheim

 

It’s true.  The rugged, majestic beauty of the mountains and fjords here adds a kind of reverent perspective to one’s life.  The vast parts of Norway are wild and untamed and have not changed much over the centuries.

We had a delightful evening last night with our hosts.  They were open and friendly, and our dinner  conversation touched on many subjects and was seasoned with genuine laughter and kinship.   Dave cooked Italian, and they were enthusiastic in their compliments and second helpings.  The evening ended with a small shot of Maria’s homemade mountain ash berry liquor, or as she explained, when she doesn’t have enough room to preserve so many berries, she just pours vodka on them and leaves them on the shelf for a few months.  It was delicious and just the right libation to cap off the night.  And then there were these:

Those who know me understand that I consider chocolate a complete food group.   These delectable creations are the finest I have ever sampled - made in Norway using only Norwegian ingredients.  They were as delicious as they were beautiful and it took all my willpower to prevent my hand from reaching for a third. Especially after the shot of berry vodka.

Rain continues, as one might expect from the rainiest area in all of Europe.  Today and tomorrow will likely be more sedate and afford us more planning time to flesh out the rest of the trip.   We have nearly hit the halfway mark and the time is slipping by too quickly.

Friday we will leave this beautiful fjord, return the car to the Bergen airport, and board our flight to… 

….. stay tuned!

Cruising Naeroyfjord

I was not awarded my Mensa membership today.   Thankfully, things worked out and it turned into a grand day, despite my pre-dawn mental hours spent rounding up the mental monkeys who were busy taunting me because Mastercard did not post a rather important purchase to WestJet 4 days ago.  Traveling is not for the cowardly.

Miscalculation #2 involved over-padding what should have been a 2 hour car trip, extending it to 4 hours.   I was intimidated by warnings of construction, duly warned by CHAT and Google.  Except, delay was about 3 minutes.   So we ran a healthy few hours ahead of schedule and that resulted in quite a pleasant stop for a latte back in Voss.  Even still, the driver was not thrilled to start his day a few hours early.  I even bought him a cookie.  Ahem.

We arrived in Flän with half an hour to spare.  This, despite the navigator’s error combined with Google maps not catching up after an 11 km tunnel, necessitating a few extra km and a creative U-turn.  (So, not my fault, really).

We boarded a handsome ship in the tiny harbour with about 375 other enthusiasts.   About 370 of them were Chinese tourists, and boy, were they ever excited.  Specifically, to have their pictures taken, one by one, by holding the flapping flag at the stern of the ship (where we were seated).  

We sailed through a part of this beautiful planet that was timeless and rugged.  There were too many waterfalls to count, and the intense green of the pastures where tiny villages and farms were located made a striking contrast to the stark peaks that soared over us.

Fläm in the rear view mirror

We did get a sprinkle of rain, but not much more than that.  Sadly, the light was kind of flat so the pictures do not do justice to the breathtaking landscape.  You can see how narrow the fjord is in the photo with the flag in it (in the nanosecond that it was not populated by the aforementioned group.)

I had booked us on a bus back to Fläm from Gudvangen after the cruise ended.   We found the proper bus stop quickly and stood in line with the throngs and eureka, 5 minutes later the bus appeared.   First in line, I proudly presented my E-ticket and that’s when he said…. Oh sorry, you bought a ticket FROM Flän to Gudvangen.  Not the other way around.

Huh.  Go figure.  My face fell into my boots.  Dave cleared his throat.  We were advised to step aside and let the others board.  So we did, looking like the two embarrassed Canadians that we were.  I fixed my eyes on my feet.  Held up the line and everything. For sure did not look at Dave.

After an endless, suspenseful wait, the bus driver consulted his iPhone and announced that he had four unbooked seats, and he would overlook my tactical error and let us on the bus.   I could have kissed him, or at least offer him a dozen of my prized peppermint lifesavers.    Instead, we boarded and grandly took the best seats up front and then enjoyed the 25 minute shuttle back to Flän.   Where our faithful car awaited us, and the perplexing problem of the paid parking instructions.  Since none of that was my fault (finally), I won’t go into details there.  Not interesting.

And, for those who haven’t nodded off during this diatribe, let it be known that I managed to get through to Mastercard and they confirmed that indeed, Paris will receive me with open arms on October 3.

Hopefully I’ll sleep tonight.

Exploring Voss & Seeking Hardanger Bridge

 After some stealthy planning involving the YES/NO coin, we planned out the next two legs of the trip this morning.  And still another few legs to plan, maybe as many legs as a spider, only the Shadow knows 😉.

We wanted to find the Hardanger Bridge today, about 120 km away.  It is a 4,528 ft suspension bridge with a good pedestrian lane, about a 3 km walk across.  That was the plan.  And lucky for us, we decided to stop in beautiful Voss first, because it looked so charming.   Plus.  It had a gondola! Found some free Sunday parking close by and within a few minutes we were airborne about 1200 m, arriving in a distinctly chillier, alpine land. Voss is a popular ski village and has the charm (but not the populace or insanity of Banff).  I loved it.

We even had the huge gondola to ourselves on the way down.  As with everywhere we have been in this country, it was completely uncrowded and calm.

                                                  Big bug impression on the way down!

The bridge, however, was a bust.   Despite the helpful instructions CHAT gave, finding the parking lot on either end was like finding your way out of a black room with a blindfold on.   The tunnels leading to/from the bridge are massive, so large that they actually have roundabouts in them.  Besides, when we drove across the bridge we sniffed it wasn’t all that awesome anyway.  So, meh, onward to find a picnic spot and a drive through of tiny town “Dale”, a factory town known for the quintessential Norwegian pure wool sweaters.   All was closed for the Sunday, and most likely that was a good thing on the pocketbook. 

In every way it was another lovely day in this gorgeous country.  We came home with a basket of sweet plums, sold at a roadside farmyard, delicious and dripping with juice.

Tomorrow we drive to Fläm to catch our Fjord tour to Neroyfjord.  Fingers crossed for sunshine or at least - no rain!

Gallery Day - Bryggen

Train #40 carried us into Bergen today in the usual efficient 17 minutes, half of which was in tunnels. But what a deal, especially when you don’t want to drive in a downpour and look (and pay for) parking. $7 Canadian for two seniors.  And, they forgot to charge us on the return.

Central station deposits you within perfect walking distance of everything - the Kode galleries showcased some beautiful Norwegian paintings including Harriet Backer, a woman who fought hard to make herself known as a female artist.   I discovered Johan Dahl, a superbly talented landscape artist who painted Norwegian nature and the people who lived in it.  A master of light.  Two of my favourites:

And of course, weird old Edward Munch, who painted a heartbreaking self-portrait while he was in hospital for a nervous breakdown.  There he became so enamoured with the German philosophy of health, nature and exercise, that his dark and disturbing paintings changed to a much cheerier presentation.

Two galleries were included in the price, the second an exhibition of modern art and photography.   Strange and thought provoking.

Enough art.  We explored old Bryggen and the Fish Market, which was lively and bursting with tourists.   There, I disgraced myself by succumbing to a chocolate donut (and a pistachio one for Dave).   Handed over the kroners and then winced when I did the conversion… my first $10 donut.   I haven’t felt so fleeced since I paid 10 euros in Italy for gelato on a boiling hot day.

Serious rain began as we left the fish market, and I pulled out my lovely Monet rain poncho from my purse.   When I did so, there was a clatter at my feet and I looked down to discover a thick gold coin in a plastic container.   It’s a novelty coin, with yes/no written on each side, and I have zero idea of how it got there.  I have never seen it before.  However, serendipity follows her own plan, so we are going to use its flippability to help decide on our next destination(s).   We fly out of Bergen one week from today.  Any guesses about where we’ll land?

Chasing Waterfalls

Friday greeted us with bucketing rain, which I gather is the norm here and also a source for the exuberant waterfalls that are everywhere.  The only thing that outnumbers the waterfalls are the tunnels.  I remarked that this would be a very bad place to live if you suffered from tunnelphobia.   Norwegians don’t go over mountains, they just gopher their way straight through, sometimes for several kilometers.  They are wide (the tunnels, not the Norwegians), brightly lit and (thankfully) very quiet in terms of traffic. And it doesn’t rain inside them.

Shortly after noon the rain slowed to a stop and so we loaded up our ‘wiches and potato salad and headed to the first of two major waterfalls - Fossen Bratte.    We were the only people to hike down to the base of the falls - steep, but doable and a good lung buster on the way back up!  Can you find Dave?

From there, a gorgeous drive through very steep caverns and roads that were cut through the side of the mountain, until we got to Steinsdalsfossen.  A little more popular due to the fact that you can walk behind the waterfall, but it was lovely, an easy walk and a beautiful vista of the valley and small town below.

Our turnaround was Norheimsund, a picturesque village with a maritime museum and a good spot to enjoy a late lunch while gazing out on the fjord.   The museum would be such a joy for children, as they have bins of various shapes of wood, hammers, nails, sailcloth.  All are invited to pound together the best seafaring ship they can imagine, then float them in the adjoining pool to the building.   All for free.  My grandkids would ❤️ it here!!