Førde and Fjærland

We are flying over the Fjords from Oslo to Førde and I am not happy. It’s not that the view is not spectacular (steep rocky mountains plunging into dark blue fjords); rather, it’s that I am on a tiny propeller plane and as we are descending the wheel is right next to my window. I can see it spin angrily as the plane touches the runway. We have arrived in Vestlandet, and specifically to Førde, a town located three Fjords north of Bergen. It is as exotic as it sounds.

At the airport the smiling Somali man offers to give us a lift to Førde, but we decline. My friend, a tall Norwegian with curly hair, whom we shall refer to as the Viking (a cliché if there ever was one) had ordered a rental car for us. When we arrive the car rental employee was still driving the car from the town to airport for us to pick up only so we could drive it back to the town again.

‘Where’s the logic in that?’ I asked.

‘Renting a car is cheaper than taking the bus’ said the Viking.

‘What? Where’s the logic in that then?’ I asked, now referring to the bus comment.

‘This is Norway’ he said.

‘Your buses are more expensive than a rental…? It must be all that oil money you have, I guess.’ This was to be a comment I would make in jest a number of times in Norway when things struck me as odd, such as paying for postage stamps (worth only US$1.00) with my credit card.

To the Norwegians; coffee + milk + sugar = a scandal.

Milk? And sugar? In a coffee? You might as well ask for heroin. And even for heroin there is a special state-sponsored plan where people can shoot-up safely. But milk in a coffee is worse than denying that global warming is happening. ‘Go ski on the edge of the glacier’ the Norwegians would say (to both milk in coffee and global warming).

Another ‘oops I did it again’ moment is how they and I interpret the use of national flags. In Norway their flag (a blue and white cross on the red background) is a national treasure that should have its own cooking show. In fact, it is so special to Norwegians that they never fly their flag. What they use instead of their flag is a vimpel. Imagine a thin triangular strip of their flag. Or just google it (saves me describing it). Vimpels are what fly on the mast in their gardens, schools, government buildings, amateur dramatics clubs and rehabilitation clinics.

‘And we can only fly the flag on national holidays or maybe our birthday but we cannot have it flying after sunset. So the vimpel is the alternative’ explained the Viking as I stood agape in amazement after hearing all these rules. I nodded in agreement, not that I has much choice or reason to dispute this.

‘And we definitely do not sit on the flag. That is so completely illegal!’ I could hear him punctuate the statement with an exclamation mark, just to make sure I was clear on the importance of their flag.

I thanked him for the information and for making me aware of another law I had to keep in mind in case I had the urge to sit on a Norwegian flag, not that I could ever find one as they had those vimpels on their masts instead. It reminded me of holidays in Greece where my beach towel was the Greek flag.  I assumed that to Greeks having their national flag double-up as a beach towel was a form of promotion of their country and practicality. To Norwegians lying on a national flag must have seemed odd.  Norwegians love their traditions and laws. And I loved that too about them. Up to a point…

Call it hot-climate temperament but the near-perfectness of the Norwegians made me want to rebel. The ceaseless observations of laws and customs, the spotlessness of their streets, the orderly gardens, the punctuality of public transport, the efficiency that became an art form, the stunning scenery and the refined manners brought out the barbarian in me. I was Alice Cooper and they were Alice in Wonderland.

And how would I rebel against the Norwegians and their meticulously manicured lawns? I could refuse to recycle (gasp), I could take out the rubbish on the wrong day… on purpose! (double gasp), I could throw my empty coke can in the street (wild hysteria and fainting). But I did not behave that way. I was a guest in their country and I had to behave like one. After all Queen Sonja was watching!

And as a guest I let my hosts take me around town. Førde, the small town at the end (or the beginning) of the fjord, (depending on whether you’re and optimist or a pessimist) had a new Rådhus (Norwegian for Town Hall) that was painted a bold shade of red and is located on south side of the river (that’s the left bank to you or me).

When the Town Hall was inaugurated in 2013 as part of the celebrations the children of the town ran from the Town Hall to the top of the closest mountain; a mountain so steep, that when I climbed it I was embarrassed to be the one lagging behind. That must be another Norwegian custom; celebrating something by doing sports outdoors. 

Opposite the Town Hall, (past the hoard of screaming kids rushing to beat each other to the top of the mountain) on the north side of the river sits the Kunstmuseum (Art Museum). The square block of a building, with no windows (that cost US$25m to build) has strips of lights built into the walls. In the summer they are meant to light up. However as I was there in June and it was still light at midnight (and dawn was at 03.30) the lights were off. But the museum was smart in promoting local artists such as Oddvar Torsheim whose drawing of a dog with the knot in the middle was enlarged and placed on the side of the building. The drawing is called the ‘Psychologist’s Dog’ and pays homage to the Freudian Knot. Torsheim statue is also by the river, nearby the two large football fields (for those screaming kids), the public pool, a large stone and moss sculpture of a whale and climbing frames. All this for a city of 12’000 people. Didn’t I tell you earlier on that Norway looks after its people? Even young citizens are made out to be heroes. A twelve-year old boy had his photo and a small article posted on the pin-board in the park after catching a large fish with hair from his dogs tail! Only in Norway!

Found only in Norway is a town of books. Fjærland, an hour east of Førde, has converted old fisherman’s sheds along the river into second-hand bookshops. The city asked people to send books in to them, which Norwegians did with frenzied enthusiasm and they built up an industry. Each cow shed has a different theme, from books on Norway, to Nordic Noirs, Greek and Roman literature, travel writing etc. The town was entirely dedicated to books and in true Norwegian style, is nestled in the mountains just below continental Europe’s largest glacier, Jostedalsbreen. It was odd looking up towards to mountain’s peak and seeing a large block of ice hang off the side of a mountain while we were walking around in shorts and t-shirts.

Link to Førde's music festival here: http://www.fordefestival.no/