Postscript to our tour

We know that we're very lucky.  The QM2 is a floating luxury hotel, and we swanned about with the best of them. Here are some photos of us 'swanning'. And a swan.

the one, the only, Commodore Club

Bergen

The theatre

Bandstand (the Norwegians seem to be as fond of them as the Brits)

Harbour side

Bergen, we were told, was likely to be wet. According to one seasoned traveller, it rains in Bergen 300 days of the year. Surrounded by seven hills and seven fjords, it could be a Norwegian Manchester, so we prepared for the worst.  But Bergen was a flighty, capricious miss, and as it turned out, Karen got sunburned. 

We landed, and as Jane Austen would have said, the group tour had 'delighted us enough' and we set out alone for the panoramic views at the top of the Floibanen, or the funicular climing to the top of Mount Floyen.  Even with a pre-paid ticket to 'skip the line' at 9.30 in the morning, we waited a good 25 minutes for a funicular to the summit. It was absolutely worth the wait.

 

Mount Floyen is a hiking trail, a place to walk the dog, a playground for children, a place to bike from and also - a place to show goats. The one on the table below seemed perfectly happy - in fact, Karen could swear she heard it purring.

We stayed for a couple of hours (with coffee and a delicious waffle) before suddenly realising that we only had until 3pm to explore and so we headed down, feeling blessed with everything we had. Including the weather.

Next stop was St Mary's Church, the oldest existing building in Bergen (12th century) and frankly, a delight.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Rather jolly, we thought. As Apocalypses go.

From the church, we headed towards the harbour and Bryggen, the oldest part of the city. Although interested, we gave the Hanseatic Museum a miss, and wandered instead the streets which mirrored it.

We ended up with a salmon sandwich from the fishmarket....

...and a truly lovely glass of rose in the Mathallen (food hall). But truly, we didn't have enough time to explore Bergen properly - let alone the museums or the galleries we might have wanted to see.  The harbour was a glorious place on this lovely sunny day, filled with people, eating, drinking and astounded at the price of everything. 

One thing we wanted to mention before we leave Bergen - more street art.  Some of it with a political message. Examples below:

 

 
Some more benign, and just generally pretty:

And one, which completely threw Karen. I mean, who expects to find Tennyson scrawled on a wall?

Flåm - riding the scenic railway

Flåm is a village in Flåmsdalen, at the inner end of the Aurlandsfjorden—a branch of Sognefjorden. It's one of the prettiest places I've ever seen, with green everywhere.  It's in the leaves of the trees, the glacier water that fills the lakes, the grass, the fir trees, the moss covering grey boulders. 

We're not fans of organised trips (people turn into sheep in large groups, I think) but we decided to brave this trip because we thought the benefits would outweigh the shuffling in and out of buses and the obligatory photo stops. We were right. 

Flåm Railway

The Flåm Railway is described in rather breathless terms as 'a masterpiece of modern engineering'. Although only 12 miles in length, it trundles through some breathtaking scenery, running from sea level up to Myrdal on the Bergen/Oslo line, at 2,845 feet. To reassure us, the bumpf told us the train was equipped with no less that five different sets of brakes - which somehow wasn't as reassuring as I'm sure they intended. 

We stopped briefly at the thunderous Kjosfossen waterfall. This which was made a bit prosaic by a 'maiden in red' dancing to a song which told of the Huldra (a seductive forest creature in Scandinavian folklore) tempting away the men to certain doom. A forest-bound version of the Sirens, obviously.

The train journey was interesting for other reasons than the scenery. Two people sat next to us and listened to the announcements and particularly to the part about reading the safety information, posted by the doors. 

The man - who wasn't walking well - looked over his shoulder.

Man - Well, let's hope we don't need the safety drill, I don't know if I can read it from here...

Lady - It probably wouldn't help.  When it's your time, it's your time. That's what I say.

View from the carriage. Obviously a good one if it's your last.

  Also, overheard on the journey between two ladies and a gentleman.

Lady 1 - Here, have some of these (rummages in huge handbag and pulls out several packets)

Lady 2 - Oooh, Cheddar Bunnies!

Lady 1 - Yeah, but they're organic....

Man  - Thank you - would you like one? (holds out packet)

Lady 1 - No thanks, I got chocolate.

Lady 2 - I thought you had diabetes?

Lady 1 - Yeah, but I decided to ignore it for this holiday. I've eaten all the sugar I can get my hands on (laughs). And guess what? I feel great!

We left the train and piled onto coaches for lunch in Voss, at one of only two buildings that weren't bombed by the Germans in WW2, Fleischer's Hotel ('You haven't experienced Voss until you've stayed at Fleischer's').  The lunch, although chaotic, was much better than expected with some fabulous salmon - although if it's not good in Norway, something has gone seriously wrong.

 

Fleischer's is something out of Hotel du Lac or The End of August, all wood and log fires, and the views are stunning.                                                                                 

So after a shamefully short scoot along the lake, we returned to the group to be loaded once more onto coaches - this time to go to the Tvindefossen waterfall. The properties of this glorious waterfall include greater sexual potency for the man and rejuvenation for the ladies. According to Wikipedia, 200,000 people a year from the U.S., Japan and Russia visit and fill containers with the water.   We didn't - either the damage is already done, we don't need Viagra or we're fabulous enough. But we did take some photos.

 

The transfer to the coaches was for a particular reason - to scare the bejesus out of some of the more nervous travellers. Where the way up on the railway on a 1/18 gradient seemed somehow manageable, on the single track Stalheimskleivane, the steepest road in Norway. (thankfully now only one way) with sheer drops on one side, it seems rather less so.  But once again, the scenery made the white knuckles worthwhile.

We can only be glad this wasn't Italy - we're sure that some boy racers would have been driving this at the official speed limit - 70kph

At the base of this hair raising ride was Gudvangen, on the Nærøyfjord in Sogn, a World Heritage site. The name Nærøyfjord originated from the norse god ‘Njord’, the God of the Seafarer and the sea (apparently). Although the village was a bone fide Viking settlement, Disney appears to be making inroads, with Vikings in costume (carrying miniature pinschers, strangely) and row boats.   

Aha! Vikings ahoy!

Green roofs were a thing.

 

 

The cleanest water, the loveliest place.

Sadly, because we were on a schedule and this schedule concluded that tourists have the attention span of a gnat, we had all of 20 minutes in this heavenly place, and then we were speeding back to the boat on roads only slightly wider than the ones we had arrived on.

By this time, the weather had decided it was a cheery day and the arrival at the QM2 was bathed in sunshine. Next, the city with one of the rainiest climates on the planet - Bergen.