Scandanavia, 2018-2019
I decided to go to Norway and Sweden in order to finish the second draft of my memoir. I write about the experience of working on my book during this trip in an essay entitled Tears of Joy, which can be found in the WRITING menu on this site. Here I prefer to relate some ideas that occurred to me and impressions that were made upon me while I traveled on train between four cities across two countries over the course of a couple weeks.
[All images captured with the Contax T2 35mm film camera.]
Bergen, Norway
I started my journey in Bergen, which sits on the lower west coast of Norway and is absolutely everything that I was hoping for when I planned on visiting Scandinavia. Depending on which route I chose, my hotel was a five-to-ten minute walk to different trail heads that would lead one to the Floyen, a lookout point that provided a view Bergen and the surrounding areas, from an altitude reminiscent of Griffith Observatory. The thing that most impressed me about Bergen, and the surrounding landscape, was the community’s commitment to an outdoors lifestyle. I hiked to the top of the small mountain and was impressed by the variety of methods that the city had incorporated into each of the two routes I took on different days. On both there existed paved roads suitable for cars (though no vehicles passed that I saw), and adjacent to these roads are common dirt paths that Americans would associate with hiking or running in the woods, and finally there are rocky and wooded paths that are defined but only loosely landscaped, and provide the most adventurous hikers with an experience that as close to “roughing it” as one could hope for in a suburban setting. I was impressed to see both senior citizens and small children opt for the rough and rugged approach. At the top of Floyen is a children’s park with trolls and climbing ropes and swings and forts. This children’s area exists in addition to a thoroughly designed lookout point, with nearby bathrooms, sit-down restaurant, cafe, souvenir shop and a place to board the funicular, which shuttles those people who would prefer not to break a sweat (or a leg) walking up and down from the town below with an alternative. The city of Bergen itself is an active place, people walking everywhere, with a variety of delicious food within walking distance. I loved Bergen.
Oslo, Norway
The roll of film I shot between Bergen and Oslo returned from the photo lab with nothing but blank negatives, so I have no images documenting the glorious train ride through snow-heavy mountains that lay between Bergen and Oslo, but that journey was one of the great experiences of this trip, easily one of the most gorgeous things I have ever seen. Arriving in Oslo I found a proper European city, a significant upgrade in cosmopolitan culture from the village of Bergen. Before leaving the States, one of my cousins put me in touch with a friend of her’s, and I joined a Norwegian group of friends to celebrate New Year’s Eve. I was stunned when I discovered that everyone gathers around the television to hear the King of Norway address the country each and every New Year’s Eve, a tradition that precedes everyone sitting down to enjoy dinner. As an American, the King’s speech blew my mind. He advised his national subjects to be kind to their neighbors, to seek out ways to help their country, and to spend time enriching their minds with books and thoughtful conversation. Through the windows of a fourth-story flat, I watched fireworks light up the sky as a house-party raged all around me. Oslo is still Norway, and like Bergen there exists a healthy relationship to nature. On New Year’s Day I set out of a long, long walk, and found myself trudging through Bygdoy and slipping on ice about two thousand times. I was not alone. There were people walking everywhere — alone or with friends or with family. I love the centrality of nature in the Norwegian way of life. The morning I was set to leave I rushed out to Frogner Park to witness the human-like statues, central to yet another immaculate public space. I wish that I had had more time.
Gothenburg, Sweden
One of my favorite tattoo artists lives and works in Gothenburg. His name is Henrik Nielsen, and a large part of the reason I chose Norway and Sweden for this writing retreat was to get some fresh work from him. Emerging from the Gothenburg train station, I could have been in London or San Francisco or any other great modern metropolis. The train station alone was expansive, and as I carried my bags through the city center to my hotel I was surprised at how developed the shopping district was — I would guess no less than ten city blocks squared. The modernity of the city bummed me out just a little. The further east I travelled, the further away I was going from the green, wet, grey nature I had hoped for. But when I was not writing I made an effort to seek out the green public spaces, and Gothenburg’s largest park did not disappoint. I made great progress writing in the city, likely because it is so modern and when the sun went down around four in the afternoon and put an end to my wide-eyed explorations, I had not choice but to sit down and write.
Stockholm, Sweden
The journey from Gothenburg to Stockholm confirmed my worst fears that things would only become increasingly modern, cosmopolitan and impersonal. Walking the half mile from the train station to my hotel, I immediately felt like I was in “the city” and that days of quaint, quiet, nature-loving life were behind me. I stayed at the Downtown Camper by Scandic, and this place is more than a hotel. I felt like I was at home, among friends, in a place that acknowledged its place in the city and worked hard to give guests an environment that was consistent with the Sweden of their imaginations. So, things were not all bad. As in Gothenburg, the undeniable city-ness of Stockholm resulted in me being very disciplined about my writing, and when I did go outside I sought out spaces that were unique to Stockholm. Ironically, nearly every Stockholm local that I met and chatted with told me that Stockholm is a much better place in the summer, as the city is comprised of dozens of small islands. They call Stockholm the “Venice of the North,” and as I walked the streets I could see that a different city was there behind the cold, frigid air. I finished the first draft of my book in Stockholm, and on my last full day before flying home I took a long walk to the closest large green space I could find on a map — a nearly three mile walk — and Haga Park was well worth the hike.
