Bergen

“Travel far enough, you meet yourself”

– David Mitchell

It rained.

It rained the whole time.

But the smell of rain made it worthwhile.

After possibly the most beautiful train ride in the world, I stepped off the train into the deluge outside, in search of my hotel.

In Bergen, Norway.

The city is located on the west coast of Norway’s Bergenshalvøyen peninsula, and with it being surrounded by mountains it felt like another world compared to the fairly urban centre of Oslo I had just arrived from.

The train journey had set up this destination in such a way that I had very high hopes. After a wake up call of 5am, I had walked the 20 minutes to Oslo’s main station and boarded a rather long train with possibly not the comfiest seats, but nonetheless the first hour, as the greenery flew by, was spent sleeping. Then as I awoke and the sun had risen a little more, I could watch as fjords, tree-covered mountains and remote wooden dwellings in green fields, passed by. We climbed higher then so the landscape began to change. Green turned to brown and then grey and eventually white. We climbed higher still until the white was almost blue. Glaciers emerged along rocky mountaintops and as we slowly pulled into the small town of Finse (the highest point on the journey), I saw the temperature gauge on the platform read 7 degrees celcius. We passed more ice and black rock peeking out from beneath but the most surprising part was definitely the remoteness of the houses. Dark wooden cabins appeared every ten minutes or so on the edges of frozen lakes or situated on top of rocks, with a faded track leading to them. There was so little access to them, I thought about what it would be like to live that remotely with only a train track to remind you of the outside world. I think I’d like it. A place to escape to or find yourself. Either way though, quite chilly I’m sure, considering I was travelling in July.

On the decent into Bergen, the snow melted away again and was replaced by forests with great clouds rising up due to the humidity and falling rain. Fjords emerged hundreds of metres below and we travelled across bridges and aqueducts before the final arrival into Bergen’s old but beautiful arched train station.

The cool rain was not a surprise and not entirely an disappointment since I could feel validated in bringing so many jumpers in my already heavy rucksack, but nonetheless it was a soggy walk to my hotel. The exploring however would have to wait until the next day since the 7 hour train journey coupled with a 5 am start had wiped me out.

The next morning, the rain continued, so out I went to christen my raincoat with its first use in the two weeks I had been travelling through Scandinavia. The city itself was fairly flat in most places so the steepness of the mountains that surrounded it inland, looked so sheer that the houses themselves seemed as if they were attatched to the cliffs. They were, however, beautiful in their colourful masses, dotted amongst the deep green of the trees along the hillside. A large park with a small lake lay close by and I sat and ate a squashed croissant while watching the fountain in the middle spout water into the damp air. I then wandered past post offices, bike shops and residential flats until I reached the high street.

Further on past the town centre and towards the harbour I could smell the fish market close by. Bergen is famous for its sea trade and it’s large number of visitors from cruise ships but predominantly due to the Stockfish trade (unsalted, dried fish) which cemented it as one of Northern Europe’s centres for trade.

Past the docks, bobbed several small fishing boats which were dwarfed by the distant cargo ports and cranes as I walked towards Bergen’s Fortress, Bergenhus. Around since the 1200s it is one of Norway’s most well-preserved fortresses and it looked as such, when I walked into the inner courtyard. From the ramparts you could look across the harbour towards the hillier parts of the city which was my next destination.

On my way there, though I came across one of Bergen’s biggest attractions: the World Heritage Site of Bryggen. Beautifully restored, colourful wooden houses, in the typical older Norwegian style stood sandwiched together, with several of them displaying local wares and souvenirs of patterned cloths and oddly shaped troll statues. I walked between the houses down narrow passageways where stairs and walkways criss-crossed the alleys above and the orange, yellow and red painted wood shone in the brief rays of sun that perforated the grey sky. I also visited a 200-year-old leather shop and visitor centre that detailed the origins of the settlement with it’s founding in the 1020s and it’s original status as the capital of Norway until the early 1800s.

Onwards then, away from the wooden houses painted in reds and yellows and towards the other harbourside. I wandered near restaurants with close proximity to the fish market and watched as groups of people ate various dishes prepared neatly from the other side of floor-to-ceiling windows. I contemplated the idea of going in but reminded myself that there were other, cheaper alternatives that were equally as good. But fish was going to be a necessity to try while here.

The pavement began to climb then, into the hillier part of Bergen with roads twisting almost in a similar fashion to those seen in San Francisco. At the top lay a park with a view over the fjord on the other side of the city where I took a break and sat feeding birds with the leftovers of my supermarket sandwich. Below me I could hear the excited shrieks of those jumping into the lido that doubled as a lane-swimming pool. It didn’t matter that the sun was nowhere to be seen, the humidity wrapped the city in a warm but damp blanket and the wonderful smell of rain hung in the air. I then headed further into more residential neighbourhoods. The houses all had similar characteristics. Lots of white window frames with colourful cladding and some balconies with flowers and vines trailing from hanging flower baskets. There was so much green to be seen.

Then evening began to descend and I headed back towards the centre of town. There was also no concerns about my safety here. I felt comfortable walking around as night fell and was even regularly greeted by some passers by.

The rain continued into the evening as I once again approached the fish market to find my dinner. After a walk through the labyrinth of red tarpaulin tents, past tanks of lobsters, sea crabs and icy drawers filled with prawns, I found a stand selling fresh shrimp for a decent price. Of course, things are noticeably more expensive across most of Norway but here it felt worthwhile because with it came the experience.

So here I was. Writing my travel diary under a fish market stand beside a plastic window that distorted the outside world as it grew darker, with a plate of fresh shrimp and bread with mayonnaise beside me. To this day it is still one of the best meals I have ever eaten, simply because of where I ate it and the surreal nature of realising that the place you envisioned visiting in your bedroom years ago is where you are currently sat. Eating shrimp. The darkness outside brightened the flickering fairy lights that decorated the fish market seating area and as I walked back to my hotel, I saw that same lighting reflected in the millions of windows and blinking lights from the houses decorating the hillsides surrounding Bergen through the rainy haze of the evening. It was one of the few times that gloomy weather has ever looked so beautiful.

The next morning I would have to catch an equally early train back to Oslo to continue my journey towards Sweden in the next few days. But Bergen had been so different to any other city I had visited yet, that I knew it would stay imprinted onto my memory for a while.

So, as the train pulled away the next morning at 6am, the sun finally shone through the dense rainy fog. It lit up the mountainsides and fjords in a rich hazy yellow before it disappeared as we rose higher again, into the mountains, headed for the glaciers and then another city once more.