I sat down to write about the black and white photographs I took in Bergen, Norway a few weeks ago but obviously it didn’t materialise. Nothing specific, only that Bergen seemed to be a coastal town with a sense of quietness which I was very fond about. Of course there were the viking fridge magnets and tourists walking back and forth the fish market having a sampling of raw and smoked fish, caviar and crab. It’s also definitely more than a half-day boat tour of the narrowest fjords. It’s about the hike up the hill, the trees, the imaginary troll that looks like a tree stump, the smell of wood and sound of branches being crunched beneath my boots.
We were walking in the evening sun that felt like the sunrise. We crossed old homes (some tilting), small roads and found ourselves in the midst of a buekorps march with two brigades gathering at the district centre. This was probably the noisiest part of the trip.
It’s good to feel small from the boat cruise that snaked along the fjords. It felt like I was an amoeba floating in a miniature set with felt covered cliffs and mountains. If you’re observant you’d find little pastel yellow painted homes hanging high up at the sides of the cliffs. And I’ve never breathed air and tasted water until I breathed the clear air and drank from the river that flowed towards the fjords. Everything was quiet and yet alarmingly alive.
This was taken as we descended down to Gudvangen Valley. Being so close to the rocks and soil of the fjords was truly breathtaking and quite possibly one of my favourite traveling experience.