As a native Californian, I still feel a bit of worry when I let the water run, like I see so many Norwegians do. It’s standard: They let it run to get it nice and cold. They well afford to: The one place that never seems to run out of fresh water is Norway. Continue reading
I have been in the Trinity College library. I entered the 300-year-old building and walked into heaven. I stood still, in awe, instantly in love with three [sic] stories of books stretching above and before me, completely captured and delighted by the idea that everything I would ever want to know was at my fingertips in that vast rooms. Thanks to books. Glorious, glorious books. Containers of all human knowledge, experience, beliefs and imagination. A religious moment for me.
(Brought on by a friend posting a link about Trinity College Library in Dublin, Ireland. It’s two soaring stories, but feels like three.)
On Saturday, I took a tour with the MS Bruvik, the same boat that once ferried me to summer camp when I was about 10 years old. Back then it was just a boat ride. Now it was a historical adventure in several ways.
The fjord ship “MS Bruvik”, photo credit: Wikimedia Commons
Ole Bull, violinist and considered Norway’s first “rock star”, had quite the flare for the dramatic and the mysterious. This last was why he was drawn to the island of Lysøen, where he built his last home.
As Eddie and I carefully set our feet down between sheep droppings, we caught a whiff of fresh manure. Instantly, I was transported back to my childhood in Norway, spent in the country with a potato field in front of the house, a couple of steers grazing in a pasture next to the carport, and my uncle’s sheep passing by our house on their way to and from their barn.