Fairy tales really do come true...

My feet may reside in a city, but my heart will always be in the woods. Sarah and I decided to get out of Bergen, and take a ferry to this small island called Lysoen (the island where Ole Bull, the famous violinist, built his home). His house was truly spectacular, but even more wonderful were the trails surrounding it. We took 1 hour to explore them, and for just a few minutes I lived out a fairy tale...

This was my reaction when it finally hit me that I was on a desolate island that is (apart from Ole Bull's house) untouched by man. I could have been five years old at that moment. And if you would have asked me if fairies exist, I would have told you that yes, they do in fact very much exist.

So there I was, sourrounded by the greenest moss I have ever seen, not understanding how God could possibly stand creating such beauty when there is a very good chance that not a single person could notice that one sun beam hitting that particular tree stump in that particular way that magically creates thousands more at that exact moment...

I suppose he simply can't help himself.


Later, we decided to rejuvenate ourselves with a snack from the tourist-trap cafe right by Ole Bull's house.

My friend Bernadette told me that when I get a heart-shaped waffle in Norway I should run down the street saying "I got the vaffeler! I got the vaffeler!" Well...I didn't exactly do that. (In the olden days in Norway when a man asks the woman's parents for their daughter's hand in marriage, the parents will either serve heart-shaped waffles, meaning "yes," or flat ones meaning "no.") Perhaps next time...

I'm not sure how amused the cafe clerks would have been, anway...probably written me off as a crazed tourist.

After eating, I slept by the fjord...

Sarah wrote brilliant small essays...

And we took the ferry home.

One day soon I will once again walk down that mysterious trail that leads to the mossy woods...

and find out who lives in this hidden, red cottage, nestled by this hidden, calm pond.

And they will sit me down with some black coffee and tell me stories about the magical land of Norway.

Flowers

Last weekend I climbed all the way up Mt. Ulriken, the highest mountain in Bergen, and found these beautiful wildflowers on the way down. The "hike "was not exactly family-friendly...more like rock climbing, actually, and my flimsy red shoes were completely caked with mud by the end. Despite falling many times on the slipperey rocks, and passing over disintegrating bridges that were about 6 feet over rushing streams, I managed to hold onto the bouquet of flowers I had picked near the top. They are now sitting on my desk. Or at least they were. They died after a few days...wildflowers tend to die rather quickly. But holding them in my hand all the way down the 643 meter mountain gave me enough joy to uphold me through any hard, rainy day.

New Perspectives

A few days ago Sarah and I hiked one of the seven mountains here. Its name is Mt. Fløyen, and the view from on top is absolutely brilliant. Although we took the train, most Norwegians hike up and down, no problem. We even saw five-year-old kids with real backpacking gear on, like what they sell at Scheeles for adults. I just stood there, staring.

I hope to spend a lot of time on these mountains over the next two years. It's good to go often to those places that makes one feel small. Mountains do that more than anything, I think.

And when you get too overwhelmed with the majestic nature of the mountains, just take a walk through them instead, and experience the intimacy of the forest. I very much prefer this. The forest is so full of creativity, I feel like I could stand and look at a single tree for hours upon end. But before I know it, the running stream, or butterfly, or moss, or shade of green, or flicker of sunlight, or...one of those tough Norwegians attempting to run UP the mountain...distracts me and I must continue on my merry way.

I wonder if I could drink out of this stream...maybe one day I'll try. Or maybe I'll just pretend like I can. Yes, that's much better.

"The value of life does not depend upon the place we occupy. It depends upon the way we occupy that place." -Saint Therese of Lisieux

I arrived in Bergen, Norway about one week ago. Although it was quite overwhelming at first (taking the city bus 2-3 times a day is quite the change from rural Minnesota), I am slowly beginning to make a home here. As you can imagine, I am surrounded by glorious nature that is involved in this continual praise fest to God. This lake is about a 30-minute walk from my room. Behind me is the old royal residence of the King and Queen, a ways in front of me is downtown Bergen, and to my right is a small mountain. This little tucked away lake is quite different from the great power of the mountains you find surrouding downtown, but it screams of God's peace in a way the mountains just can't. I wish I could walk here evey day....I would, if it wasn't for the constant rain.



My home: The Grieg Academy

The Grieg Academy is quite small, but so old and European-looking you just fall in love with it instantly. It is in the heart of the city, so I must take a bus to get there. I kind of like the transition time from "home" to "work," though. I never quite experienced that before.

This is the view out of one of the practice room windows. I have to force myself to move my music stand away from the window so I'm not tempted to just stare at the mountains instead of practice. It's quite loud when I open the window....people walking up and down the streets, buses racing around the corner, seagulls crying, and church bells ringing. Such life!

Church. Norway is one of the richest nations in the world and has a Lutheran state church.

8-10% of the population attends church on a regular basis.

This is one of the famous old Lutheran churches in Bergen. I went to a sevice here in Norwegian last Sunday. It was...extemely traditional. No emotion. And the pews were so tall you could only see the tops of people's heads. It was a definite cultural experience that helped me to really understand the reserve of so many Minnesotan, Norwegian Lutherans I have met.

God, save your church.

A few days ago I found this random forest that had all these winding walking trails and huge trees that screamed of stereotypical mystical Norway. I kept seeing all these little rock formations, and was always on the look-out for the trolls that come out of nowhere and ask people for money. In the middle of the forest I happened upon this stave church. These medieval wooden churches are all over Norway, and date back to the 12th century. I don't know much of the history, yet, but will probably go back when it's open to take a tour. It was quite the thing to just "happen upon." I'm sure one day I'll learn exactly why there would be dragon heads on a Christian church...



Rain.

God just can't seem to stop providing Norway with a bounty of many things. Because Bergen is on the coast, it rains here...a lot. About once an hour. Your umbrella just becomes another arm after a while. It is actually quite beautiful here when it rains because the clouds get all misty and you can watch them rise above the moutain tops. The rain is so warm, too, and gentle. So far no thunderstorms or anything, just a light watering of the earth. I don't mind, really. Rain always seemed romantic to me. I guess it's just another way for me to pretend like I'm Lucy from Chronicles of Narnia, hopping between the puddles in England, dreaming of when I can see Aslan again.

But if the rain really gets to you, just walk a block to one of the many coffe houses and order their specialty...black coffee...or the American way....a latte.

The hidden, set aside places of a city is what feeds the soul...

...the places where it is finally just you and your imagination.