Norway Vacation Diary (Part 1)

Wednesday February 17:

My flight left the ground at about 1:45, within the 15 minute window of "on-time" departure. The flight was about 2/3 full, so there was an empty seat next to me. That was my first time on a 747, so I got a brief tour of First Class and the upstairs extension of Business Class from a very nice Flight Attendant. The meal was a chicken entree, in typical airline fashion.

We had favorable tailwinds so we arrived in Chicago about 30 minutes ahead of schedule at about 7:05 PM.

I took the train over to the International Terminal 5, and waited for the next leg of my journey. Of course most of the concessions at the terminal were closed at that hour. The SAS flight to Copenhagen left on time, about 10:00 PM local time. The next 8 hours were spent relaxing over Canada and the North Atlantic at 35,000 feet.

The plane for the Trans-Atlantic leg was a 767 that was not normally used for that route, so they told us to disregard the instructional video and seat-back insert, because the Polar Suits were in some overhead compartments, not under the seats as described. Polar Suits are bright orange suits that go over all of your clothing, presumably to make it easier to locate the bodies in the event of an emergency landing.

The plane was less than 1/3 full, so I had a complete three-seat row to myself. That was nice, because I could spread out, but my back still hurt two days later from trying to sleep on the uneven surface. Service included another chicken entree, and a "do-it-yourself" sandwich setup.

Again we arrived at our destination about 30 minutes ahead of schedule.

Thursday February 18:

The Copenhagen Airport was a beehive of activity, crawling with all sorts of people, speaking all sorts of languages. In spite of announcements, people were smoking everywhere. They have little carts for carrying your luggage all over the place. These are free to use, and you just leave them wherever you are when you are done. A crew is constantly collecting and redistributing the carts for re-use.

There are a number of very nice shops in the Copenhagen airport, selling everything under the sun. There was even a restaurant with a Land Rover that had a table in the back, so that you could eat your meal in the car, sitting just slightly above the crowds.

Boarding of the flight to Trondheim was delayed about 25 minutes, and the gate was not determined until quite close to the redefined departure time. Of course I joked with some people from the USA that it would be at the farthest gate possible, but I was wrong. It was not the farthest gate possible, but it was about 5 feet away from the farthest gate.

The flight finally boarded, and the DC-9 had less than 20 people on board, none in the "Euroclass" up front. A nice flight attendant suggested to me to move forward to an open seat to get farther away from the engines. Bless her.

Just prior to boarding the plane, a screw fell out of my glasses, and a lens popped out. Imagine me on my hands and knees, searching the floor for a tiny screw in the middle of the Copenhagen airport.

Once we had flown the 2 hours to Trondheim, we were forced to circle the airport for over 30 minutes while they cleared the runway of snow. When they finally did allow us to land, we were forced to turn around right on the main runway, and taxi halfway back up the main runway, even though there were two more planes coming in behind us. Crews were still clearing the second runway while we taxied to the gate and disembarked.

There was some sort of large military transport off to one side of the runway, surrounded by vehicles with flashing lights. The plane appeared to be on a taxiway, but the pavement around it had not been plowed. Apparently it is some sort of NATO thing where there is always a C5 standing by at the Trondheim airport.

The formalities of entering the country, and retrieving my bags and going through customs completely lasted less than 10 minutes. With so few people, the bags were inside so fast that they still had snow on them when I picked them up.

My friend Tove and her daughter Kine and Kine's friend Hilde met me near the baggage carousel in the new part of the Trondheim terminal.

On the drive into Trondheim, which is about 18 KM from the airport, it was just getting dark, and with no glasses, it was hard for me to see much of the scenery, but everything was covering in a delicate white blanket. By the way, on the road from the airport into town, you pass through the small town of Hell. I think it is ironic that you have to go through Hell to get to Trondheim.

Tove's sister Marit came over to visit briefly later in the evening. She lives just up the hill from Tove and Kine.

Friday February 19:

Then we stopped at a pizza parlor in the mall for Tove to have a smoke. The place was packed, and some of the people we actually eating, but all of them were smoking. We heard one girl speaking clear English at a table near us. On the way back from the washroom, I saw "California" across the top of her driver's license sitting in her open wallet. I touched her on the shoulder and said "another Californian, hello" to her. Her eyes bugged out and she looked totally shocked. She was trying to figure out how I could tell that she was from California. We spoke just briefly.

Then we took a walking tour of part of the city of Trondheim. We walked past the Royal Residence, and the famous cathedral Nidaros.

The cathedral is a magnificent massive stone church with intricate carvings, stained-glass windows and appointments throughout. The church was originally started in about 1152, and has been expanded, destroyed and rebuilt many times over the centuries. In addition to the church itself, and numerous outbuildings, there is a small museum right on the grounds. Out behind the museum are a small group of cannons that overlook the river Nidelva that flows around the center of the city.

In the afternoon we took Kine out to the country for her riding lesson at the Ragnhilds Riding School. She and three other girls saddled the horses and rode in an enclosed, but not heated building for an hour.

For dinner we stopped in the town of Heimdal at a pizza restaurant named Fellini's.

After dinner we sat around talking with Morten and Tove and I sat around talking with the neighbors Tor and Ellen. They came over to visit and have dessert. We talked for hours, and joked about everything.

Saturday February 20:

The narrow city streets wound up towards the church above the city. The streets were lined with booths and tents and tables of goods and foods from all over the area. All of this occurring outdoors at a balmy -5 degrees Centigrade. Lots of rosy cheeks on smiling Scandinavian faces.

They were selling beautiful handcrafted sweaters and leather goods, candies and fresh made donuts, and clay and pottery pieces. There was also the usual bunch of booths selling commercial grade crap.

There were sausage vendors everywhere. They had tables of salamis and such from Denmark, Norway and Sweden, made from Reindeer, pig, sheep, goats, cows and who knows what else. The vendors were like automatic doors. As you walked up, they immediately sliced off little sample pieces of several varieties. We sampled many different types.

There were crowds of people on every street and funny hats everywhere. We saw the horse drawn sleds pulling groups of people around the town.

We toured the Mining museum, and saw displays and models of the rich mining history of the area.

Dinner was at Morten and Merethe's house, featuring some real Norwegian food. We ate dried meats of all kinds, and potato salad. We sat and talked, and watched a video of Morten and his friends on their annual ski trip to Sweden.

Sunday February 21:

They do not have chair lifts at Vassfjellet, they have T-bars. You hook the bar behind you, and it pulls you up the mountain. They work great for everyone that can manage to keep their skis pointed straight up the hill. I fell twice. It would have been very embarrassing if I had been in the USA.

The first time I fell, one ski hooked a little bit, and pulled Tove and me down. We fell right in the middle of the track, halfway up the hill. Everyone that came by gave advice or asked questions, and they all looked concerned as we struggled to get out of the way, and over to a ski trail. For many of the people, I just pointed at Tove, and all of the guys seemed to nod their heads, as if to say, "I understand".

When one man said something to me, I just shrugged my shoulders and said that I am an American, and again a look of understanding came across his face. After a while Tove realized that she should keep her mouth shut, and let me do the talking, because then everyone would just think that we were dumb Americans or English. Apparently they are much more tolerant and forgiving of incompetence from Americans and English.

In the mid-afternoon, Kine and Kristina took off to go up to the top of the hill. The rest of us were not ready for that, so we arranged to meet them later at the bottom of the hill. They took off up the hill, and we skied down, and got back into the lift line. We rode the lift back up (the scene of my second infamous fall) and skied back down to the bottom to rest up and get something to drink with the girls.

After a while, we began to get concerned because it was taking the girls too long. It seemed silly to worry, and we were sure that they would show up laughing and joking any second.

Kine finally showed up alone, somewhat wet and looking concerned. They had gotten most of the way up the hill, and the hill got very steep, and since they were not heavy enough, the T-bar (don't you hate those!) lifted them off the ground, and Kine fell. They walked part way, and tried to ski down, but it was the most difficult Black Diamond run in the whole place. Kristina fell, and hurt her arm, and Kine gave up and slid down on the seat of her pants to get help for Kristina.

The Ski Patrol went up in a Sno Scooter (Snowmobile) to get her down. They brought her down in the emergency carrier, and we drove her to the Hospital. Her arm was not broken, but it was hurting her a lot. She was brave and quiet.

That evening we went over to Tor and Ellen's house to have another authentic Norwegian dinner. Ellen cooked up a big pot of Rudolph the Reindeer, and we ate a lot of him. He was very good.

Afterwards, their friends Kari and Torgeir came over, and we sat around talking, telling stories and laughing for hours. It was difficult to understand some of what they were talking about, and it was very difficult to explain what I do to them, but I think that we all understood each other pretty well, and we had a nice time.

Monday February 22:

We drove out to Granåsen to the ski-jumping hill, but there was no one jumping that morning. The sky was mostly clear, but it was brisk in the morning air.

Again we went to downtown Trondheim, and walked through some of the restored historic places. We walked along the canal and crossed the bridge over the Nidelva River to the old section of Bakklandet with its working class roots. We ate at a quaint little cafe called the Kafe Gåsa (go-asa = goose). It was a wonderful little rustic place filled with relics of the past. We wandered the streets and alleys, and circled across the river back to town.

Along the way, Tove pointed out the house where she and her family grew up, and the church where she was christened.

Then we drove up to the Kristiansten Festning (Fort) that overlooks the city. The tower is closed in the winter, but the cannons (old and new) still sit atop the high fort walls, there for salutes and celebrations. The fort affords a great view of much of the city.

For dinner, Tove cooked meatcakes and potatoes and corn and garlic bread. I could learn to like a lot of this Norwegian food.

Marianne came over after dinner to talk, and we watched TV and chatted.

Tuesday February 23:

The skies were a bit overcast, and there was a light snow falling. We drove down to the city and went to City Syd Mall. I got some cash and some stamps and some postcards and some more film for the camera.

Fully armed, we drove out to Granåsen to the ski-jumping hill again, but there was no one jumping then. Of course they had jumped for a couple hours earlier, and we just missed them. We will keep trying.

The kafe at Granåsen had very few choices so we drove over to Lian to eat at the Lian Kafe. It is a great restaurant on a hill overlooking a snow-covered frozen pond. We sat by a window and watched the trolleys from the town drive by.

After taking a few pictures, we drove over to Marit's apartment to visit her and her cat Pernille. Again we shared stories and laughs for a couple hours. I learned all about their youth, and what a nightmare Morten had been to them while they were all growing up.

We went down to the Marina district to have dinner at a restaurant named Dickens. It was very good food, and the atmosphere was very nice.

After dinner, we walked and drove around town to get some nighttime shots of the city. We drove around the docks and past the fishmarket, and all through the narrow streets of the oldest parts of the city.

Wednesday February 24:

Marianne came over and we went skiing at Vassfjellet again, just for half of a day. It was 0 degrees C at the base of the mountain.

The T-bars were still trying to trip me up, but I survived. Actually when I rode up by myself, everything worked just fine. Marianne and Tove rode up together. Tove was showing off, rolling cigarettes and smoking them while I was barely hanging on for my life.

We paid for a half-day ticket, and we skied five runs down the mountain, and left just before 13:00. The sun was just beginning to peek through the clouds. We would have liked to stay longer, but we needed to go do things.

The resort was not very full, and we were able to ski right down to the car.

Morten was unable to spend very much time with us because he had just gotten his own personal new taxi, and it was being outfitted with the computers and radios, and being painted and lettered.

We picked up Kine from downtown, and checked in with the SAS ticket office in downtown Trondheim.

We went to the Tyholt, the Tower on the hill. It is a 123-meter tall communications tower, with an observation deck and a cafe at 67 meters up. The cafe rotates at the rate of one revolution per hour. It is a great place to get a view of the entire city. We sat and relaxed and watched as all of Trondheim revolved slowly below us.

We could see all of the famous landmarks, Nidaros, Munkholmen, Kristansten Festning and the jump ramps at Granåsen. Tove pointed out all of the major buildings and where everyone lives relative to the tower. It was a spectacular view.

Kine kept begging for "hamburger" for dinner, so we drove to Heimdal to a little hamburger stand. We brought the burgers and fries (real authentic Norwegian food!) back home to eat since it was dropping below freezing outside.

Thursday February 25:

By 9:00AM it was up to almost minus 5 degrees C, but the sun was shining for the first time. We went to Granåsen to try to watch the ski jumping one last time, and we were lucky. There were several boys practicing for a little while.

Afterwards, Tove, Kine and Kristina all attacked me, and turned me into Frosty the Snow American.

To warm up, we drove up to the restaurant at Lian again for Cocoa and cake.

Morten was getting the final touches done on his new Taxi, so he was not able to spend the day with us. His Taxi was shown in the newspaper as it was being painted and prepared to hit the streets.

Marit came over and we drove to Heimdal to buy some fish at the market. They planned to cook one of their favorite dishes, Torsk (cod) with the roe (eggs). I was willing, but cautious. Tove also bought some whale meat for Friday.

The Torsk was different, and as an American, I was looking for the Tarter Sauce. The fish eggs were very different, with a flavor and texture that was unique. It was definitely authentic Norwegian, but not one of my favorite meals.

After dinner, we went to an Ice Hockey game at the Leangen. We watched a tournament game between the local team TIK (Trondheim IshockeyKlubb) and Asker-Frisk from outside of Oslo. Asker-Frisk was ahead 2-0 when we arrived a few minutes into the first period, but TIK fought their way back and won the game 3-2. It was the first hockey game that Tove had ever been to, and she enjoyed it a lot more than she ever expected.

I have always heard that the Europeans play a different style of hockey than in the USA, more finesse, and less physical stuff. This game looked like a good old-fashioned America rough and tumble hockey game. There weren't any actual fights, but a lot of chippy play, and every stoppage had pushing and shoving and a lot of yapping.

Corporations sponsor the teams, and every possible inch of uniform has a logo or a name plastered on it, including the seats of their pants. The TIK team even had small sign plates added to the fronts of their helmets to advertise something.

Friday February 26:

It snowed about 5 inches overnight, and it was still snowing lightly at noon. This was a lazy day, with no plans, so we sat around and wasted more than half of the day.

We went downtown and tried to change my flight out of Trondheim to a more reasonable hour, but there are so many problems and such weather problems that it was decided that we should stick with the early flight to be safe.

We drove out to see the church at Klæbu, and then took Kine to her riding lessons. There were working on Gymnastics on horseback that afternoon.

Afterwards, we went to Marit's apartment for dinner. She cooked whale meat with potatoes and mushroom sauce, and it was very good. We all ate until we were ready to explode.

Morten was busy working, so he was not able to join us for dinner that night, but he brought the new taxi by later in the evening for us to see. It is a nice new Volvo, painted bright yellow.

We had to be to the airport by 6:00 AM, so we called it an early evening.

Saturday February 27:

We drove to the Trondheim Airport at Værnes, and before 6:00 AM, there was no traffic. The timing was perfect; I didn't even have time to sit down before the plane started boarding. We were in the old terminal, so that meant that we had to walk across the tarmac to board the airplane. Try walking outside at an airport with the engines roaring at 6:00 AM in February at -7 degrees C.

The flight to Copenhagen was uneventful, but it was followed by a 7 how wait until the next plane.

It was rainy and 2 degrees C and foggy. I stowed one bag in a locker, and I took the train to the Central Station in downtown Copenhagen. I walked around the city center, past Tivoli (which does not open until April 23) and through the shopping district Strøget. I tried taking a few pictures but it was wet and windy and cold. I just wandered around in the rain for a while, imagining how pretty it would be in nice weather.

It finally stopped raining after more than an hour, but it was still foggy and gloomy. The tops of some of the buildings disappeared into the ominous mist hanging above.

I found a Danish post office and mailed a couple postcards that I had bought and filled out at a bus stop on the side of one of the busy streets.

Eventually I found myself back at the train station, and I wandered around there for a while longer. I finally submitted to the urges and ate a McDonalds's double cheeseburger before returning to the Airport. That whole excursion killed off about 2.5 hours of my long wait.

I took the train back to the Copenhagen Kastrup Airport. I retrieved my bag and strolled past the shops in the terminals, taking in the sights and sounds.

I found a boarding area that was empty, attached my bags to myself, and sat back to read a book. A couple hours later, it turned out that I had selected at random the actual gate that my flight was going to be leaving from.

The flight was completely full, and it was delayed for more than 30 minutes before leaving Copenhagen while they waited for some sort of "pin". The flight was about 9 hours long, so the pilot was able to make up the time, and we landed on schedule in Chicago.

The in-flight movie was "Pleasantville", one that I could have done without, but it killed a couple of hours.

The entire customs and baggage check process was uneventful. You sign the papers, wait in the line, show them your passport and declare your goods and the send you through. Then you get your bags from the baggage carousel, and wait through another line where they collect your declaration sheets. Then I was able to recheck my bags through to Hartford.

I rode the train back to the United Airlines Terminal 1, and waited for my next flight in a couple of hours. I killed a big chunk of time checking voicemails at work from the pay phones.

The flight to Hartford was on a nice new Airbus A319 and it was only about 3/4 full. Heavy airplane traffic in Chicago delayed us from leaving for a little bit. We arrived a few minutes late in Hartford, just after Midnight local time. I was greeted by a tired looking group of people.

We went down to baggage claim, retrieved my bags, and we were on our way in no time. The two hour drive up to Jamaica Vermont passed quickly as there was little traffic, and a lot of stories to tell.

It was much warmer in New England than in Europe, so there was a lot less snow on the ground.