Closing out Norway: Oslo

Back in a busy city for the last few days of Norway, the family and I naturally took to the streets. Public transport in Oslo is spot on well organized, so in between our characteristically long walks, we hopped on trams, buses, metros, and ferries while navigating the ridiculous number of museums available to us. One of the first things I noticed, were the manhole covers. At first I thought it was a man standing in a viking boat proudly showing off his weapons. Then I took closer look and realized it was a man standing on a woman. Well that just seemed oppressive, so I wrote the Norwegians off as misogynists and too hung up on their conquering mentality. 

But then I stood back a moment and did my homework. The manhole covers display Oslo's Coat of Arms, the man being Saint Hellvard, the city's patron saint. As most saints go, he was martyred for defending a thrall woman (slave) during the Viking Age (8th-11th century). St. Hellvard isn't standing on her, but rather she is laying by his feet while he holds up a millstone and a set of arrows. Norwegian kings were also big on lion decor, representing protection of the throne. I supposed this was okay, particularly when I read that Oslo's motto, "unanimiter et constanter" means united and constant. The entire country in fact is extremely proud of their heritage, their land, their capabilities.

As I mentioned, Oslo is packed with museums, most of which are based on Norway's maritime, viking history. Expert sailors for more than 2,000 years, the Vikings, explorers, scientists, and historians followed oceanic trails, seeking land, power, or knowledge. Naturally, we saw a lot of boats: wooden boats, sailing boats, even bamboo tiki boats were proudly on display. 

In the great outdoors, we wandered through playgrounds and loads of green stuff. Oslo's most famous park is the Vigeland Sculpture Park where all 212 bronze and granite sculptures are dedicated to the various human forms we come in. Some where beautiful, some were bizarre, and some were downright hilarious. The parks' most popular sculptures are the tower of bodies carved out of a single block of stone that stands 46.6 feet (14.2m) tall, and the bronze angry baby statue. Angry Baby perches on a pedestal just like the others, but one hand is brilliantly gold, polished from all the tourist hands touching him while snapping pictures. He also has a gold winky. Of course, right?

Museums and statues made for a full couple of days, but Mark and I did get a date night were we held hands and talked about... the kids. After a few beers chatting with a local restaurant manager and a brewmaster, we aimlessly wandered around trying to avoid going back home. Shops had long since closed, and crowded patios had dispersed in the pouring rain when we came upon a bowling alley. Inspiration took us and we put our names on the waiting list. As luck would have it, we ran into the same locals we had been chatting with and they invited us to join their group. So we bowled in headache-inducing rainbow light, practiced our non-existent Norwegian and made a few more memories that never would have happened if Mark wasn't so talkative.  He's alright sometimes.

Oslo's Coat of Arms
Credit: Mark

Vigeland Sculpture Park, open since 1940.

Heartbreak or hope?

Angry baby.

WWI propaganda, Maritime Museum

Wood viking ship from 920AD. Damn that's old.
Viking Museum.

All you need to know about viking history
is in a five minute animated film projected
onto the ceilings and walls. Viking Museum.

Viking mascot.

Bowling in Oslo.
Notably, the place shut down at 10pm.

Really Cold Things = Really Cool Things. Glaciers in Nordjord.

Now that we've tackled fjords, mountains, and waterfalls, let's move onto glaciers. They are everywhere in west-central Norway, and I imagine they only get bigger and sexier the further north you go. People just love gawking at these snow smushed monstrosities, including myself. It keeps my ego in check when I think about the destructive power glaciers have- they literally carve the earth and rock using nothing but patience and pressure. Plus, the ice is punch full of science and things valuable to our earth's existence. 

Get this: Norway has a glacier lab located under the Svartisen glacier in northern Norway, somewhere above the arctic circle. The lab is seven hundred feet underground and the 30-40 foot long tunnels were created using nothing but fancy hot water. Six insanely brave scientists study things like the rising sea-levels, seismic activity, and mineral composition, which is literally a historic map of the earth's formation. Can you imagine?! It's like the ultimate field trip for my kids. But since that isn't really feasible, I plan to take them to the U.S. National Ice Core Lab instead, during our next visit to Colorado. And since I've announced it on the blog, I am committed. Here, they store ice samples in really cool metal canisters to perform studies of similar nature and they offer tours which have to be booked well in advance. 

Anyway. The Briksdal Glacier is very accessible, it is hikeable in under an hour or you can buy a ticket to ride a mini-truck up. You get sprayed by waterfalls, entertained by fat goats, and there plenty of giant rocks for kids to climb on. Plus, it's kind of pretty, and I got to spend some "quiet time" throwing rocks in the water. For those who want more hiking, the Briksdal area has tons of other trails both easy and technical. Unfortunately for us, tummies rumbled and I got outvoted on taking a picnic lunch to tide us over between hikes. 

Approaching the Briksdal Glacier 

Kleivafossen (fossen = waterfall) on the way up.

Briksdal Glacier and runoff (seriously- no filter used)

My tribe.

Bevatnet Glacier, a random stop off as we drove south-ish.

Swimming in glacial run-off is cold.
Where's my trophy?

Snow: Gift of the Norwegian Gods

Back in Namibia, when I ask the expat kids what they miss most, they say: grass to play in. That's fair, considering the majority of the yards in Windhoek consist of rocks, dirt, or pavement. Our kids however, miss having snow. Even if given a choice between grass or snow, the cold white stuff wins every time. So when we went up the Loen Skylift (about 30 min from Stryn) and saw patches of leftover snow, it was clear we'd be spending all day there.

The Loen Skylift only opened in May 2017, but has since brought thousands of visitors to the top of Mount Hoven (1,011m) for spectacular views of the fjords and surrounding mountains. Everyone piles into one of two cable cars to be delivered to the top in under five minutes. The summit offers various trails across the top as well as advanced technical climbs that require skills in rappelling and rock climbing. I had a burning desire skip the lift altogether and hike it both ways: a) because I am a cheapskate - it cost the four of us 1,210 NOK, or 155 USD, and b) taking the lift felt so weak. But at the moment, the trails descending the front of the mountain haven't been completed yet. We would have had to walk 6km on a two-lane highway (with no safe pedestrian access) and then ascend a diagonal trail to the top. I swallowed my inner Scrooge and paid. 

Luckily we did get plenty of hiking in at the top where we had a picnic among the crunchy lichen. We even coerced the grandparents into taking family pictures before letting the kids off leash to play in the snow. While they threw snowballs at each other, we had plenty of time to people watch. There were some interesting birds in the vicinity. Interesting, as in half-naked, half-baked, twins in matching shorties and tasseled bikinis; shirtless, shoeless toddlers oblivious to the snow, tiny pebbles, and terrifying cliff edges; photo staging enthusiasts who carried a snowman down the trail to pose with.

Before we headed down, we stopped for beers and a bathroom break. Margo was washing her hands when I noticed her backpack was still filled with snow. I reached in for a handful and launched a snowball at the back of her head, right in the bathroom. Hilarity ensued, at least for the Schlinks (especially Margo, who thought it was great that her mommy broke behavior protocol). Other women stood there with mouths hanging open, deeply disgusted that I threw a snowball indoors. In a room, mind you, that needed all the help it could get in the cleanliness department (grossssss!) Damn. I went there. But nothing could bring us down because the snowy mountains are where the Schlink family thrives.

The Father In Law saying howdy! Credit: Mark

Down below, the town of Loen.

Matching 2017 family t-shirts designed by Deets:
Scotland's national animal is the unicorn; gradh means "love" in Scottish Gaelic.
Norway's national animal is the elk; eventyr means "adventure" in Norwegian.

Heaven.

Soaked socks, butts, backpacks.

Real true smiles.

A nice place to sit.

Waterfalls, Death, and Dragons: Fjords of Norway

There are so many waterfalls in the fjords of Norway, that after a while, my kids would only half respond with enthusiasm whenever Mark or I pointed one out. I was constantly impressed by the sheer power of the icy cascading water, and envisioning vikings throwing people over to their deaths. I actually don't know if vikings did this, but then again, I also kept imagining Toothless or Gronckle flying overhead. 

What's even crazier though, is that people lived and continue to live on top of the these steep, waterfall drenched mountains. They have for hundreds of years, doing stuff like FARMING on unforgiving, precarious land. On a ferry route from Gerainger to Hellesylt, an automated guide described how some families would leash up their children to keep them from going over the edge. Livestock routinely swan dove over the cliffs too, flying past stable footed mountain goats. But you can't beat the view, right?

In addition to waterfalls and fjords, this section of Norway is also hugely popular for its hair pin roads that wind around mountain passes. On a particular sunny day we drove up the Trollstigen, a skinny paved road that reaches 858m (2,815 ft) above sea level. Trollstigen's website link is adorable saying the views will give you an "adrenaline rush." In part that may be true when walking across the clear bottomed platform at the top, bu twe all know the real fun is riding your bike up and down the 10% graded roads. Mark and I were so wistful. It's been a long time since I've suited up in maxi-pad-spandex.

Ah. Well. Can't unsee that, can you? 

This flat, easy hike takes less than 30 minutes
for a literal behind-the-scenes waterfall experience.
It's a 15 minutes drive from Stryn. Park at the nearby school and head along the road.

Tvinnefossen

Behind the roaring Tvinnefossen falls.

Road/trail for Tvinnefossen.
The trails are maintained by Norwegian 4H,
and have toys and crafts to play with along the way.

Flowers along the Tvinnefossen trail. Credit: Mark. 

Trollstigen Road, view from the summit.

From Trollstigen summit, viewing the town of Gerainger

Views along the Trollstigen Road. Credit: Mark

The ferry that transported us and the car from Gerainger to Hellesylt.

Seven Sisters Waterfall, view from the ferry.

People lived these mountains! Incredible.
Dragon credit to Deets.

Moving onto Norway

Mark orchestrated a beautiful and seamless transition from Scotland to Norway. Perfect weather, perfect company, perfect convenience. I love the airports that have rental lots and public transportation directly connected to the arrival terminal- so once again the men set off to pick up the cars while I downloaded the route we'd take to get to Stryn onto 5 separate devices for the whole family. Stryn is a town in what's technically west-central Norway (still the fat bottom half if the country), but still feels very far north. But it isn't really. Norway is crazy long: its coast line is 13,624 miles long. Estimated drive time: 6 hours and 15 minutes, so we counted on doing it in 8. We left the airport at 3pm, confident we could make it before dark because Stryn in July has about 22 hours of daylight. Which, we will talk about in another post.

We hit the road, already impressed by the sheer number of evergreen trees, even in the city. But, before I go into gushing about how pretty Norway is, I have one thing to bitch about and then I won't bring it up again. Norway has some great things going: solid infrastructure, well made roads and tunnels, and fancy bridges. The citizens enjoy access to fantastic health care, nutrition, and seamless technological advancements. So why is it then, that Norway has the most disgusting bathrooms I have ever seen in my life? 

Throughout our trip, most of them were in absolute devastation: unhygienic in dangerous proportions, graffiti, and trash everywhere, leaky sinks or non-working sinks. Putrid smears of body fluids were everywhere and even a dead animal was seen. It was an emotional experience (and not a good one) whenever I had to use a public bathroom. I much preferred to pee behind a car or in a bush. But of course, as Norway is technologically advanced, cameras are everywhere. Even restaurant bathrooms were cringe worthy. Shame on you Norway. Shame. Shame. The only decent bathroom was at the Oslo central train station but to enter, you had to pay 40 Norwegian Krone, or 5 USD via credit card or cash. FIVE DOLLARS to pee.

Moving on. About two hours in, stomachs gurgled so we stopped in Lillehammer for dinner, and having done zero research, we were at the mercy of an outdated GPS system to find us an open restaurant. GPS brought us to an outdoor mall and edible food was obtained. We saw the looming ski jump up close (very terrifying) and we were very pleased with ourselves when we came upon The Flamingo Bar. How great would it be to rub elbows with Steven van Vandt?! I say super great.  

What wasn't great, was that we had had zero communications with Mark's parents after leaving the airport. Norwegians are stingy with their free wifi, so calling them was a bit trickier than we wanted. Whatsapp messaging was our primary mode of communication in Edinburgh, so we did the same here and hoped for the best. 

The drive north was not unpleasant, though everyone drives the speed limit (fancy speed cameras and all) and anyway, most of the highway is 2 lane with a barrier or berm in between. We wouldn't be passing anyone anytime soon. Instead, we started making phone calls every 15 minutes, paying out the nose in airtime. A few hours later, we stopped again for groceries and found free wifi, hopeful to get an update from his parents. We did, but only a few messages of "where are we?" and "the GPS says we need to get on a ferry, should we take a ferry?!" Which, of course wasn't the original intended route. Sighing deeply, Mark and I decided to carry on, as it was nearly 9pm (still bright out) and we still had four more hours to go with delirious, napless children.

The unanswered calls continued, as did the milage. At 1am we arrived to the AirBnB rental, put the kids to bed and started calling again. Finally, at nearly 2am we connected. They were fine, but had gotten lost almost immediately out of the city. Google maps ate up the original route I laid had out and gave them a new one. They never made it to Lillehammer at all, but detoured west and in full on panic mode. His mom had only been using wifi to call me (I had no service whatsoever) and was leaving messages on Facebook which never went through. Realizing they were hopelessly hours behind us, they decided to stay the night in the last town they stopped at. Mark's parents made it to the house a full day later, but at least they had the benefit of descending into Stryn in broad day light. The views were spectacular with a mountainy landscape stuffed with glaciers, huuuuge towering waterfalls, and crazy deep ravines. 

They greeted us with hugs and wool socks, which is totally what I would do, if I got lost too. Alls well that ends well, though and now everyone could now sleep better. Or could we?

Not so north now, are we?

Gorgeous infrastructure.

Lillehammer. Not many photos when your undies are wadded with worry.

Finally settled into the mountain stocked countryside.

Traditional Scandinavian roof. Back in the day,
a birch bark and grass roof cost
 zero dollars to make and works as a decent insulator.

Closing Out Scotland

I don't want to downplay the sheer awesomeness of Isle of Skye. After all, people including myself flock there in droves every year to see the unique landscapes and indulge in their history. So much so, that sustaining the demand has become a problem for locals. While the roads are well kept, there's not always two lanes and cars passing opposite need to alternate the right of way. The volume of vehicles overwhelm most parking lots, leaving determined visitors to park precariously (and carelessly) on the road side. The bottlenecking and the need for patience is impressive, especially when tourists hop off ferries and onto giant tour buses. Large influxes of people inevitably means more congestion; more trash; more makeshift roadside camping because cottages and inns are fully booked for months ahead of time. Mark and I had to amend our travel plans specifically for this reason. We all want to see everything, and we all want to see it RIGHT now! Yes?

Anyway, Isle of Skye is super cool, but the Highlands south of that region are amazing too. Even though the area is seemingly much of the same land (green, mountainy, and stuffed with lakes), the Highlands are undeniably different. It's hard to describe. The expansive textures of the Highlands is unparalleled to anything I have seen before, where the green is nearly blinding. The ancient, rounded mountain tops have a secret they won't tell, and the lakes disappear underneath a sea soft moss and teeny delicate flowers. The sky gets bigger and we get smaller. I desperately wished we had time to stay at least one night in the vicinity of Trossachs National Park. There was a gentleman in full on Scottish uniform, playing his bagpipe on the side of the road with his back to the Beinn Ime, the highest peak in Scotland at 1,011m/3,326ft. Everyone and their mom, including burly motorcyclists were pulled over to take a snapshot of this idyllic scene. I bet that musician makes a killing.  

Since the Harry Potter Studio was out of reach, we did the next best thing and stopped in Glencoe, where Hagrid's Hut once stood. There's no sign and no notice showing you where the hut was perched during filming, about 100 yards up from the road, but with a seasoned HP eye, the location is easily spotted. Mark had a hell of a time explaining to Deets and Margo that we wouldn't actually see the hut, nor Hagrid (God, they were hopeful), and had to talk them up from massive disappointment when they realized we were staring literally at a hill now overgrown with ferns. We made up for it by letting them throw rocks into a creek, which happens to be one of my favorite downtime activities.

Onward we went, and before we realized it, them mountains had petered out, leaving way to serene farmland and more cozy towns, streets lined with colorful hanging flower baskets and Scottish pride. The drive ended before I wanted it to and left me wanting more, but I suppose that's the sign of a good trip. We checked back into a hotel near the airport and settled ourselves for a quick overnight before flying to Oslo for the next leg of "rest & relaxation." 

Hagrid's Hut

Credit: Mark

No regrets.

Isle of Skye

The Edinburgh Airport car rental place is a hilarious thing. Even with use of those luggage carts that steer all weird, it's easy enough to walk from the terminal and directly to your chosen rental company. However, if you are coming from the city via taxi, it's another story. No taxis are allowed into the lot, which meant that the kids, grandma, and I got to sit by the side of the road with ten thousand pieces of luggage strewn about while the dudes dealt with the paperwork. No worries, it gave our carsick boy plenty of time to barf in the grass and take a nap, and Margo to practice her jumping jacks and harassing custard faced brother. From here, we would drive to the vastness of the Isle of Skye: a legendary archipelago stuffed with peninsulas, lochs, and towering mountains. Plus a bunch of green stuff like grass and moss.

Scottish roads are delightful, as are the adorable towns along the way. We drove north and enjoyed watching the flats turn into rolling hills and into mountains. Thick forests surrounded both sides of the winding road, sheltering village off shoots from highway noise. We made a pitstop in Dunkeld, once a choice getaway location for Beatrix Potter back in the day. She enjoyed this place for good reason: with everything in Scotland, if it's not beautiful, it's cute and historic with well made stone bridges that cross over its seemingly endless supply of rivers and lochs. Plus it was Dunkeld where tales of Peter Rabbit took form. It's a cute story: Potter, a frequent letter writer to sick children, ran out of things to say to a particular boy and segued into a tale involving four rabbits.

Eventually we drove into Inverness and craned our necks searching for the Lochness Monster before stopping by Black Isle Brewery for thirst management. After two other stops that involved mediocre cafeteria food, and a flat tire repair, we arrived to Dornie, population 360: the most adorable town in existence. It contained the following: two bars, one grocery store, one cafe, and one 13th century castle. Mark had rented a three bedroom cottage that was filled to the brim with floral design. Carpets, walls, curtains, beds, and pillows were adorned with varying flower prints. Our AirBnB host was a sprightly woman dressed in a bright blue raincoat, sensible trousers, and thick wool stockings (please no shoes inside, mind you!) who showed me how to turn on the television, washing machine, and thermostat. All of it was so endearing and cozy I never wanted to leave. 

From here, our ventures commenced with days filled with hiking, boating, driiiiiiiving, and drinking beer. I tried a mess of whisky and faked my way through it. I can appreciate the thought, effort, and history behind it, but man... while I loved having a warm belly, I did not love the raging heartburn. 

We gawked at cyclists, campers, and backpackers slowly making their way in the sodden rain (one had to assume it would and could rain at any moment- and it did). As it was high-season, there were many travelers in the area. Some literally camping on the side of the road and we watched more than one tent bail out pooling water, which I imagine circulated right into the ground and back side their tents. 

Among other things we spotted many waterfalls that changed in size on a regular basis from the rain. Trickles transformed into giant cascades in a matter of moments, rushing down hill with impressive force. We visited fairy pools on a rare dry moment, which are a magical series of trailing waterfalls that eddy off into crystal clear pools. Mark and I drove by historic castles, shuddering at the thought of life 500 years ago. We passed by 1000's merino sheep, some of which are actually feral, according to the hungover zodiak boat guide, and peered at the sea lions blubbed out on rocky beaches. But the big excitement for me was seeing the famously hairy Highland cows. So exciting apparently, that I forgot to take a picture of one. 

My dude sitting pretty in Dornie.

So many layers of flowers.

I love a good fake fire,
but  if you wonder what will happen
if you try to dry a shirt on one... just don't.
It wasn't me nor my husband- for the win.

The unbelievable manicured backyard of our cottage.
There's potatoes growing in here somewhere.

Eilean Donan Castle built sometime in the 1200s.
It's by far the MOST photographed castle in Scotland.

I hid here while the rest of the family followed the masses
 inside to marvel the crown jewels or something.

And now a crappy castle: Duntulm, circa 14-15th centuries.
 I'm not sure where the sky went in this photo.

 The suits! They do nothing! Except Deets'.
He stayed bone dry and had the most fun.
Castle Maol in the background. 500+ years old, maybe?

Bog cotton. Very dreamy.

My overly brave girl who said "to hell with being dry."

Water water everywhere.

Highland leaders of the pack.

Mark capturing the fairy pools.

One of the many fairy pools.
Credit: Mark

Kilt Rock Waterfall. While those are rocks (not ice)
in the ocean, it sure as heck felt like it was that cold.