Silver Spirit Norway, Day 4 - Number Two tries harder. Sometimes.

With thanks to Silversea for this Norway cruise.

Bergen has, they say, 245 days of rain a year. Today was one of them. So the city, Norway’s second-biggest, once the capital, and clearly under more flattering conditions an attractive one, did not look its best with the cobbles treacherously slippery, low cloud hiding the tops of the surrounding seven peaks, and everyone scuttling through the streets, heads down. There’s a port with some impressive old-type sailing ships moored, as well as more modern marine traffic buzzing around; there are spires of various types, there’s elegant architecture both new and old; and there’s Brygge, the block of 18^th century wooden houses where the Hanseatic League – a combination of the EU, and the Mafia, according to some - was based for 400 years. Those numbers don’t add up because Bergen has had many fires in its history, the worst of them in 1702 when 95% of the city was destroyed.

The houses are painted red, yellow, orange, with overhanging gables and steep staircases, and the one that’s been preserved for the museum as it was has cupboard beds (very short – they slept half-sitting because if you lay flat, you died, was the thinking), low ceilings, small windows and little comfort. After all those fires, candles and fireplaces were banned, so imagine what that was like in winter. They had separate assembly rooms that were lit and heated – but, come bedtime, brrrr!

My guide today was a bit uninspiring so, when she led everyone off to catch the funicular railway to the top of a peak that was swathed in cloud, I sloped off and poked around the shops and streets by myself. The shops are lovely, full of stylish goods (*cough* the magazine shop excepted), all of them horrifically expensive. I remember that was my overriding impression of Scandinavia when I first visited in 1980 – I’d never seen so many beautiful things that I couldn’t afford.

I had a flat white only because I saw it advertised outside a café and felt obliged (verdict: looked authentic, but actually too small and too strong. Not the proper thing at all). (Experiment required because, as of course you know, it was invented in NZ. NOT Australia!). I saw an odd bronze statue of an old-fashioned homeless person, barefooted and leaning against the steps to a grand building – really, a bit of an insult to the real ones silently begging in the rain, I felt. I tutted over the ruthlessness of the municipal gardeners I saw ripping out still-flowering bedding plants to replace them with the next colour scheme. I inspected the displays on the fish market stalls and left one stall-holder bemused when I asked what the shiny black product was, and then recoiled at his answer, and his offer of a sample. It was smoked whale, people.

The sky brightened a bit so I took the smart modern funicular up to Floyen peak, but another cloud had swept in by the time I got up there and what could have been a spectacular view was substantially greyed out. Of course, by the time I had got back to the bottom, the cloud had blown away, and when I arrived back at the Silver Spirit just ahead of departure time, the sun came out and there was actual blue sky. Spit.

Later there was another lecture from the king of interet paranoia, which overran so far that I arrived only in time for the final Trivial Pursuit question of the day. I couldn’t answer it anyway: What is the biggest country by area in Africa? Algeria. My team scored a miserable 14/25 today, not even placed. Tch. But at least the US woman who didn’t know yesterday what year the attack on Pearl Harbor occurred, had the perverse satisfaction of having two of her correct answers overruled. We’ve all been there, friend.

A delicious table-barbecue dinner at the Grill was followed by the 95% genuine laughter from waiter Jacob of the Philippines when, asked how I had enjoyed my super-tender Hot Rocks filet mignon, I replied, as per custom, “ My compliments to the chef”. 

Highlight of the day was the music: Angela on guitar and Alex on piano in the Dolce Vita lounge; over-the-top diva/comedienne Beverley Davison in the theatre doing spectacular things with her 350 year-old Guaneri violin; and finally the DJ up in the Panorama lounge, getting people up dancing in the midnight dusk.

Silver Spirit Norway, Day 3 - Opining on the fiords

With thanks to Silversea for this Norway cruise

So today was the start of the great test. Regular readers 😄 will remember that on my Azamara cruise from Wellington to Sydney last year, when we got to Fiordland, the Norwegian captain was disparaging of what we Kiwis consider some of NZ’s most spectacular scenery. “We have this in Norway,” he said, “but the colourful little towns in our fiords make it prettier.” New Zealand’s fiords have no colourful little towns. We just have untouched nature. It’s what we do:

Yes, it stung, I admit it. So, here, and now, I get to see the Norwegian version for the first time. We woke this morning on the final approaches to the town of Flåm, permanent population 450, at the end of an offshoot of Norway’s longest fiord. Fjord, I suppose I should be writing, since they gave us the word.

And yes, it was pretty: little pointy-roofed red and white houses along the edge of the water, surrounded by birch trees and tucked below soaring, sheer, rocky cliffs topped with Indian snow. Being June, there’s lots of green: mown hayfields, wildflowers, fruit trees, pines. Our first obligation was to take the Flåm Railway, which passes through 20 hand-dug tunnels to climb the steepest track in the world, criss-crossing the tumbling Flåm River into which a succession of high-as waterfalls feed. Yes, ‘spectacular’ covers it.

We got off at one point to look at and try to photograph a roaring waterfall that instantly spat spray all over everyone’s lenses, while a woman in red on a cliff top beside it swayed and gyrated to music for about five minutes, pretending to be some sort of waterfall nymph. Just the twelve times a day, through the summer, if you’re wondering. Then we got to Myrdal at the top, where we went into the hotel and ate waffles with jam and cream (which I had written about from research for a story a few months ago, so it was closure for me) and then I went for a wander to look at the lake and the waterfalls before we took the train back down again.

Flåm has a permanent population of 450, but a huge volume of annual visitors, mostly from cruise ships like ours, although today there was also a long line of coaches disgorging what mostly seemed to be Chinese tourists, as well as an assortment of nationalities from Bergen on the train. So tourism is now the main industry, and there are lots of souvenir shops (heavy on trolls, reindeer skins and cold-weather clothing), cafés, bakeries and accommodation. There’s also a good (free!) little museum about the building of the railway line and what looks like a vertical zigzag road up the side of the fjord. Also, some nifty-looking home-made vehicles for using on the railway line, some developed from motorbikes, others just bicycles.

Then, with a bit of a sigh of obligation, I set off on foot back up the valley towards the next village but one, where I’d spotted a pretty church from the train. It was 3.5km there, gradually uphill, on feet already complaining from cobbles and unsuitable shoes, but I was compensated by the tumbling, turquoise, gloriously clear river, the pretty wildflowers growing along its banks, the cute houses with their neat gardens and orchards, the peace and quiet and, most impressively, the sheer cleanliness of it all. NOT ONE BIT OF LITTER at all! So very commendable.

So I got to the church where, being Sunday, there was a service taking place, sat briefly in the graveyard, and then route-marched back down to Flåm, sore of foot but pleased to have had the exercise, fresh air, sunshine, and taste of nature - although still reserving judgement on the fiord/fjord issue. A soak in a Jacuzzi on deck back on Silver Shadow helped with the barking dogs; and then there was the sailaway on a golden sunny evening, along the fjord with its waterfalls, little villages by the shore, and mysteriously random houses perched high on perilously steep hillsides. There was pizza on the deck as it all slid past; then work in the library high above the bow with great visibility but deeply regrettable jazz musak, which was, later on, mitigated by a tenor singing Nessun Dorma and other gratifyingly populist (and tuneful) songs in the theatre before bedtime.

Highpoint today was being asked by Steve McCurry to take photos of him on deck with his wife and baby daughter, on his huge and heavy Nikon. Slightly diluted by his clearly not remembering me from our half-hour interview the day before yesterday; but probably payback for my having described him in that post as ‘physically forgettable’.

Silver Spirit Norway, Day 2 - Sun, sea, Starbucks and sequins

With thanks to Silversea for this Norway cruise
Photos coming later, when the wifi is faster

So now I know what taupe looks like. It’s one of those catalogue colours that I’ve always wondered about. I mean, how is that different from beige? (Neither of them is a colour I’ve ever had anything to do with, personally. I’m into primary colours, me.) But the décor on the ship is definitely taupe, and beige, and grey and pewter and black, with muted aqua highlights. Sophisticated, I guess.

It’s an At-Sea day today, so there’s time to register such things. Also, to be entertained by the programme of lectures and activities that are laid on by the Silver Spirit team. First, though, I had work to do: an interview, no less, with Steve McCurry. Hang on, don’t click away, to save you googling I’ll tell you that he’s the man who produced what’s been called the World’s Best Photo: Afghan Girl. You know it from the National Geographic cover back in 1978, you’ve seen it often, and even only once seen you’d never forget those green eyes looking right into yours. Brilliant photo.

Steve himself is a quietly-spoken man of 68, not tall, fairly forgettable physically, to be brutally honest, which has without a doubt been to his advantage in his career, slipping under the radar, not intimidating his subjects. He’s travelled the world, mostly to less developed countries, and produced a huge body of work. Comfortingly for the rest of us, he’s a great proponent of the iPhone camera and has even included phone pics in his books. So there’s hope for all of us.

I also learned how to make rhubarb panna cotta at a cooking demonstration, tasted the Danish version of Calvados (they cheat by adding aquavit), and at a different lecture learned how unsafe hotel safes are and why you should never give your real name to the Starbucks guy if you’re carrying a hotel umbrella. This travel security lecturer is totally paranoid, but also an amusing speaker, and his next talk on identity theft might be pretty handy in these treacherous times.

The sun shone all day, the sea sparkled, the ship creaked quietly (hopefully not the inserted section working loose), and we set out on the Trivial Pursuit marathon, our group of six achieving a moderately respectable third place in the first skirmish. We finished the day’s events with the Captain’s Welcome cocktail reception, a formal affair which my Amazon owl dress allowed me to just scrape into, although many guests really, er, pushed the boat out. Pearls, diamonds, sequins, long gowns, bow ties… not all on the same people, I hasten to add. And then I took a pleasant wander around some other decks, discovered the Art Café with its truffles, the boutique with a very eclectic selection of fashions, glitzy watches, jewellery and perfumes (had a spray of Chanel #5 to waft me to sleep), and finally got some fresh air up on the top deck to observe the sun starting to sink, the North Sea uncharacteristically turquoise and peaceful, breaking long and slow under the bow, and the sky streaked with high cloud. The sun set, infinitely slowly, tonight at 11.40pm. It may have felt weary: sunrise tomorrow will be at 3.56am.

Highlight of today: a big squashy hug from lovely little Miriam, wine waitress, who remembered me (and my owl dress) from our Christmas cruise to Antarctica on Silver Explorer.

Silver Spirit Norway, Day 1 - To sleep, perchance to dream? Fat chance.

With thanks to Silversea for this Norway cruise

More photos to come when the wifi is faster

The trouble with hotels is that they're public places; and the public, sadly, does not always behave. So the two (?) couples in the room next door, who came rampaging back at around midnight, arguing and shrieking and thumping around, were not Radisson Blu's fault - but it was hard to acknowledge that, burrowed under a pillow, earplugs in and still able to hear them bellowing at each other through the small hours as precious sleep time slipped away.

Anyway. This beautifully sunny morning we set out via the ubiquitous HoHo bus into town where, during a short wait, I marvelled at the Tivoli Gardens, so old and yet still so appallingly vomit-inducing - and, somehow, still drawing crowds of masochists. Across the road was the Town Hall with its imposing exterior, and interior, so huge and high and empty, an ornate stage waiting for the day's performance. Outside were bronze creatures, some recognisable like the fountain bull, and some deeply weird, like the three dragons? on the wall. And of course there had to be Hans Christian Andersen, here the bronze highly polished on the reachable bits, and his hand, as seems usual, with a finger holding his place in a book.

We drove through the clearly expensive and classy district of Frederiksberg, all imposing 5-storey apartment blocks, more than a bit Parisian and heavy on the decorative details; and eventually got to the Carlsberg Brewery, which we had been convinced was The Thing to Do. The museum part was earnestly thorough, starting the story of beer back in the early Bronze Age with the cheerful fact that human skulls were used as drinking vessels. No explanation of how beer was discovered though, which, considering much effort was spent explaining how difficult it was to refine the product and control yeast, was a question worth having answered. However that happened, by the Middle Ages it was an essential part of daily life - ordinary water being undrinkable - and people were drinking 10-30 litres a day, driven as much by a salty diet as anything else. It was even standard for kids.

It was a thorough museum, and interesting, laid out through the old original buildings but, despite having become, thanks to the Baby, a beer convert, it was when we got to the stables that I really got interested. That’s where five people cosset seven horses, beautiful dun draught horses, smaller than Clydesdales but still wonderfully sturdy and hairy. Outside in the cobbled courtyard we drank our complimentary beers (not as good as Erdinger, can I say that?) and then went for a gentle spin in a cart pulled by Axel and Louisa, and driven by Jens, who was pleasantly chatty. It was just lovely, clopping along through a quiet suburb of pretty, old brick houses with Viking flourishes, blackbirds singing in the trees and whiffs of that glorious evocative aroma of horse washing over me where I sat next to Jens. Highlight of the day.

Back on the HoHo, we circled through Christiania, where the bus commentary mentioned hovels and loose dogs as well as restaurants and concerts; and got off in Reffon, tempted by talk of smørbrød and street food stalls. Which there were, in repurposed shipping containers, where enthusiasts sold food from everywhere, even Peru, and the tables had great views across the harbour to the cruise ship terminal – but it was too far for one of us to walk to, and so we got back on the bus.

Pretty soon we were at the Langelinie terminal ourself, going through the process of boarding Silversea’s Silver Spirit, which we last sailed in around the Adriatic, but which is now 14m longer (they cut it in half and fitted in a new bit) and fully refurbished. So it’s different, but still the same, and it was almost like coming home again with everything so familiar. Although, it was noticeable that there are more people aboard – 608 altogther. Hardly Ovation of the Seas, but still on a different scale from last year’s expedition ship Silver Explorer, with only 144 passengers. It certainly feels less personal.

However. It’s good to be aboard and the sailaway out past various Danish islands on a calm sunny evening was just beautiful – and sitting outside later having dinner and seeing a classic castle slide past, and learning that it was Kronborg Castle at Helsingør, aka Elsinore? Priceless.