Good On You

I think it is time I devoted more space to Pauline, whose presence has dotted this blog for the last few entries, and whose spirit will be with me long after this trip.

We met the first night on the ship, as she was to be one of our table partners for the trip. Table 19. I'd say the three of us hit it off pretty immediately, and we laughed and laughed at that dinner and many meals hence. I felt immediately like Pauline "got" me, and when she said "good on you" about something I had done, I felt enormously pleased.  As the week went on, I was delighted by a couple of more "good on yous" from this extraordinary woman.

Pauline is Australian, in her late 60s (though I would have pegged her a good deal younger), and on her way to spend a few months in Nice painting. She has traveled, literally, all over the world. Antarctica is the only continent she has not visited, and that is still on her agenda. Before the week was out we heard of many of her amazing experiences, most notably those in India, which I believe really laid claim to her heart when she was there. She chose on that trip, as she has on many others, not to go first class or to claim the comfort of a Australian traveler with a bit of money, but to ride the trains with the poor and visit the places usually hidden from tourists.

Hers is not a political or do gooder agenda, though she has definite ideas about things and a fury against injustice, but it is more an insatiability about seeing and understanding the world and its people unadorned and not performing, "as they really are" is how she puts it. I have, quite simply, never met anyone with this kind of restless craving for life and more life. She has children and grandchildren, most of whom wish she would just stay home, but it is not in her to stay put, though she did stay in difficult circumstances for many years to raise her children. Now she is a wanderer, but clearly grounded in that identity; open and ready, not aimless nor, certainly, lost.

She has a full laugh and an exceptional graciousness. Her attentive kindness to those around her makes me feel downright selfish and oblivious. It has been inspiring to spend time with her on many levels, and I am sure meeting her was no accident.

Pauline is at work on a book about her experiences. I can't wait to read it. Makes my wish to write of my limited experiences feel very silly, but I hope that my small book will some day earn another "good on you" from this new, and dear, friend.

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Location:On the train to Oslo

Snow makes people warmer

It seems like there has been a transformation in the ship since we spotted some snowy peaks. People who have been circling around each other warily for over a week are now smiling and saying hello and asking cordial questions of each other.

I still find I am less interested in other humans than I am in the landscape and the general relationship of humans to it. I am sitting in the 8th deck observing area--"the cinema" as I call it--and have been editing some of the dozens of photos I took this morning. One of the bridge players said hello and we exchanged general information about each other.




It was a fantastic crisp morning, but I missed the sunrise, which was apparently spectacular peaking over the snowy mountains. I still managed to take 134 photos before the morning was over. About 20 of them were an attempt to catch a Skarv in flight, but by the time I cropped the images I got pixelation that made them undesirable. I need to practice the rapid shutter stuff some more.

I find myself especially moved by the landscape today. The wind in my face is stinging and strong, exhausting to face but exhilarating too. The mountains near and far and the changing sky is endlessly fascinating. I am not where I have been.












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Aurora and Falling Stars

So earlier today I was talking to my new friend Pauline, an incredible Australian woman who has been everywhere and has opened herself up to places and experiences in remarkable ways, about the disappointments of this cruise: no snow, no whales, few excursions. She has never been in snow, though she has, of course, seen it in mountains. Then mid afternoon I looked out the window and realized as we moved southward we were going by incredible mountains covered in fresh snow. I got Pauline, and we went up to the top deck, where some flakes of snow were flying about. It was wicked cold, but the mountains were incredible against the gray, then, blue, then green, then gray waves. This Norway I wanted to see. This Norway I was missing.




I took about a hundred photos and haven't yet had time to go through them. The above is indicative of the sights, but not necessarily the best image I got--just what I got on my iPad for posting here.

After some delightful coastline sights, Pauline and I had a wonderful talk, some drinks, and then Ann joined us for more great conversation and another glass of wine. Fabulous afternoon.

Dinner continued the pleasurable day, though we all hate that our dinner time is 8:30, which is way to late for any of us to eat. The moon made an appearance--the first I have seen it in this country, so I said I was going up on the top deck to look at its reflection in the water while the others went off to bed or to crochet.





WELL. Can I just say aurora f**ing borealis??!! Incredible, cold night sky. Shimmers and streaks of light shifting everywhere. The moon at a bit over 3/4, reflected light in the waves and clouds moving in and out to be defined by the moonlight. I called Pauline and texted Ann and took a zillion pix, even though I have no idea how to operate my camera to get good night shots.














Again, I haven't had a chance to edit these photos, so they still show the overexposure my camera's auto settings chose to capture the night sky, I had no tripod, and I didn't know what the f I was doing, but you get the idea it was a spectacular evening. The camera captures more of the green than I could see with my eyes unaided, but the night was spectacular in its shifting and surprising spots of shimmering light.

AND I saw 6--yes, S I X --shooting stars. I saw two in Flåm last week. And I did make wishes on every one.

A fabulous experience was this day. Oddly, I found myself quoting Sylvia Plath all day. Lines like

"stasis in darkness
then the substance less blue
pour of tor and distances"

Or
"the moon has nothing to be sad about
staring from her hood of bone"

or that bit about the "freakish Atlantic" from "Daddy."

It was, indeed, a poet's day.




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Where the hell am I

I'm lost. I don't know what sea we are in, I don't know what day of the week it is, all the names of these coastal towns are running together--I'm feeling the pull of my work, and I am resisting, so I am between engaged and at liberty, I'm caught up in my imagination, and I'm sailing past the landscape that has been home to that imagination for 35 years.

All in all, the cruise has been a disappointment. Yes, we have seen incredible landscape, the ship is comfortable and not too fancy for my sensibilities, and I have traveled to parts of Norway I would not otherwise have seen. But it all is out there--across waves and distances I cannot gauge. Beautiful sunrises and sunsets, but I can't take walks or stare at a singular mountain until it is mine. Flåm is what I needed, what I craved, what I want more of. Have I seen more beautiful places on this cruise? Yeah, most would say so, but what I crave is being, not just seeing.



That said, traveling with Ann is great, and I am delighted to have met Pauline, who has traveled the world and still craves more experience more places. I love the mix of languages and the stretches of time looking out the window, but I could be looking out the window at any beautiful landscape anywhere, I think.



So I find I am still craving Norway, even as I sail along her coast.

I read today that Liv Ullmann will be acting in a new German-Norwegian co-production that will be filming in Bergen and in Germany.



Last night I helped a French man get on the internet, and today a man from Florida asked me some questions. I am becoming the international geek at hand. Hurtigruten should hire me.

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The Far North

We are docked at Kirkenes, the easternmost city in Norway, just a few miles from the Russian border in the Arctic. It is a rainy crappy day, and the excursions consist of getting on vehicles and going to look at the Russian border. Now, one of those vehicles is an ATV, so I would have liked to drive that, but perhaps not in the rain and cold and for $200.

So I will sit in one of the various cozy rooms on ship, look at the view, and concentrate on writing today. Internet access continues to be spotty, so actual communication with the rest of the world may continue to be on hold until we are back in Trondheim.



I am currently in the Knut Hamsun room on deck 8. I thought I would prefer one of the forward rooms on this trip where you can see three sides, but I find this room and its parallel on the other side of the ship are where I sit most often. They are quieter and less populated. Usually there are a couple of groups of people playing cards, though I have yet to invite myself to join them. There is a German threesome playing something that I'm just sure would be a better game if they had a fourth, and some older folks have been playing bridge. I finally chatted with the bridge players last night and would love to swing an offer from them to continue teaching me how to play, as Dad was doing before he died. Those folks are Australian, so I can at least bid in the same language.

I am finding my understanding of German has improved since my first couple of days here, and I utter a phrase or two where I can. English is so pervasive, though, that it is really my own drive to speak something other than English and not necessity that creates opportunities.

Last night our dinner companion, Pauline, opened up to us about her many years of travel and some of the adventures she has had in India, China, and dozens of other places. She is from Australia, and has been on every continent except Antarctica, which, at 70, she may do yet. Pauline is really amazing, having chosen at every turn to opt for adventure rather than certainty, and for learning how people really live rather than comfort. I felt very small in her presence, though she carries these experiences without hubris or grandeur, but simply as a privilege she has enjoyed and by which she has been humbled.

I was not well last night, less because of the rocky voyage and more because of the excess of food I have been consuming. I got up about 1 and decided to look for the Northern Lights (I did see a touch of them). I came up to the 8th deck and the forward lounge, which was dark and empty. I swear I was the only one awake on the ship. I was too creeped out to go outside, but it felt edge of the world enough in that big room looking out at the dark sea. Soon we approached a small town at which we docked for about 15 minutes. It was really cool to see the lights of the harbor appear out of the darkness and the searchlight from the ship scan the harbor and dock to assure a clear path to docking. I was texting back and forth with Eric a bit during this time, which made me feel connected and very alone at the same time. In the end, the quiet of the ship was hypnotic, and I may make another late night excursion to the upper decks tonight.

I realized in Ireland that I am not good at seeing things for a bit and moving on, so I am not hot to get out and explore the towns where we dock when we only have a couple of hours to do so (though I really liked Tromso). Being on the ship drinking coffee and watching this incredible landscape as we go by is more moving to me than the rush through a couple of streets of a town and a bit of shopping frenzy. The host of languages around me on ship is stimulating, and I continue to be amazed that the human race has spread to these remote shores and inhabited the tiniest coves for centuries in search of fish and a scrap of flatland. Now, of course, some of these areas are growing for the oil that is making Norway so rich in the world market, but I still find great inspiration and fascination at what spirit must have guided people in the most strenuous of circumstances to follow the reindeer or sail dark seas in wooden boats to populate the edges of the mountains and seas.




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Location:Kirkenes, Norway

Rain in the Arctic

Now this is the weather I was expecting for this trip.




Rainy and gray as we cross the Arctic Circle. We crossed a bit earlier than expected, so I missed the moment, but I don't think whales and polar bears jump up to greet you anyway, so I'll be happy for that extra half hour of snoozing. The landscape of the next day or so has been unusually barren, but we will then come across a tiny village or a lonely house that demonstrate the incredible will to populate and eke out a living from the fish of this area. We have also passed a number of fish farms that have inserted their nets and their technologies into this crazy place that shouldn't belong to humans at all.

I've kept the telephoto lens in the cabin, so I've missed photos of some of the interesting things along the shore, such as one red cottage out on a lonely peninsula that had rock walls built up on two sides and it's back against the rocky hill/mountain behind it to protect it from the weather. There is also a small town--starts with an O, I'll have to check a map--where the townspeople come out every day to wave to the Hurtigruten ships as they go by. I watched a car snake its way across the shore and through the small town, only to see it parked at the dock and (presumably) its driver waving as we went by.

I assume this is an old tradition, perhaps born of the fact that the Hurtigruten line is not a cruise line strictly speaking. It is a cargo and mail line that also takes tourists. So we stop in many ports where we only stay for a half hour or so, and we load and unload cargo and people on short commutes. Actually, it's pretty cool to be on a working ship. When my friends Cheryl and Tara traveled north with the Hurtigruten last winter the boat was mostly filled with oilmen going to the rigs up in the arctic.

Ann commented yesterday on how cool it is to hear the mix of languages on the ship, and she's right. All announcements are in Norwegian, English, and German, and indeed, those languages dominate around us (though there might be some Swedish mixed in, but my ear isn't well enough attuned to the differences to know for sure). I am able to understand at least the gist of most of what I hear in German. There is a kind of iciness in the faces of many of the people on ship that is curious to me, and may come from everyone's sense of linguistic isolation. Silly me, I expect people would respond to that with gestures such as a smile and nod of the head when passing a stranger, but this is more of a glaring staring thing.

I can't find my brush, so maybe it is just my hair.
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Location:near Bøde

Cruising

It is around noon on the third day on the ship Midnatsol in the Hurtigruten line. We are in the harbor at Trondheim and departing shortly. I am loving this ship, except the internet access is really really bad, so I'm afraid I have gotten behind in my blogging. I've now rescued the iPad keyboard from my stowed suitcase, so I can at least compose offline to upload to Blogspot when we hit a good place. Photos are on the phone and the computer however, so I may have to add media later. I have been doing some videos on Facebook, so for the five or six of you following my adventures via the blog, you might want to check FB as well.

Our cabin on the ship is much bigger than I expected. I'm not saying it is roomy, but at least we don't have to climb over each other to get in and out, and the shelves were adequate for our stuff. Only two electrical outlets in the room, though, and Ann and I both are electronics queens. Since the electric in the room is off when there is no room key in the slot, we have to trade off recharging of phones and iPads at bedtime. Fortunately I got an iGo adapter, which pretty quickly charges two USB devices at once. I just realized this is interesting to no one but me. Oops. Anyway, cabin good, gadget preparation great, onboard gadget support not so good.

We left Bergen at night, and it was just beautiful. I was too exhausted and chilly to stay on the top deck all the way out of the harbor, and I haven't got the settings down for night shots on my camera, but it really was fun slipping out into the night. I did make the mistake of looking over the side of the boat once, and Stan will understand what I mean if I say I have not made that mistake again. Because we are following the Norwegian coast, we are in sheltered waters for most of the trip, and when we do turn to open sea, we get a warning, but all we've had is what I would call a gentle rocking at those times. For the most part, I can't even tell we are moving.

The food is great, but it is a crazed feeding frenzy when it is an open seating buffet. I'm not keen on the forced congeniality of the assigned seating meals, but I must confess they go more smoothly. Last night I had my first taste of clipfisk--I loved it--and I didn't even know I was eating fish. Our table companions seem very nice, so I look forward to more enjoyable dinners. That Ann bought a bottle of yummy wine for us isn't so bad either.  

Our first full day, Sunday 2 October, I got up early to see the sunrise on the deck. We were moored at Ålesund, where we had planned an architectural excursion. I was so taken with the sky and the sea and the views from the deck that I skipped the walk into town and stayed on the boat writing and looking out to sea. And snapping several dozen photos. Most of the passengers were in town, so it was great to be on the top deck with only a couple of other people. The weather was warm and bright--very unusual for Norway at this time of year, and that sunny warmth has continued today, Monday. Sunset was equally spectacular, so the Canon got a lot of use then too. I'm going to try to make sunrise and sunset on the top deck most mornings. Sunrise is not too early, and as we move north it will get later. I realize I can't depend on this extraordinary weather lasting, but I will enjoy it as much as possible while I can.

This is a very different part of my trip. It is still Norway, but it is Norway at a distance. Norway as a travelogue, as a set of pretty pictures. Jumping off the ship to walk around a town for a couple of hours is not appealing to me, though we did it today in Trondheim (I'll write about Trondheim at length later, as I am spending three days there at the end of the cruise). We could be walking anywhere, in any cute village along any pretty street. We are surrounded by tourists from our ship, and there is never more than a couple of hours before loading up for the next thing. But the ride itself is extraordinary. Norway's coastal beauty is unbelievably exciting. I know people come here to chase the midnight sun in summer, but the changing leaves and the sea and sky of fall--realizing we have exceptional weather right now--is another kind of fabulous I am glad to experience. We have passed hundreds of islands already, from ones that are merely rocks to small fishing villages. Sadly, we are too late in the season for the small boat tour to the Lofoten Islands up north; I really wanted to do that.

I have this overwhelming feeling sometimes as I look at the coast from the upper deck that I want to run to shore and hug a mountain. Literally, I have a desire to hug the land--to put my arms around it and squeeze.


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Location:Trondheim, Norway