Bergen the beautiful

Arcadia was berthed in the commercial docks on the outskirts of the city so we had to catch a shuttle bus into town. I was up very bright and early and was apparently only the third person to leave the ship. It was my intention to get to the funicular railway early as I had heard that tremendous queues build up later in the morning. I managed to catch the 9am tram and found that there were only 10 of us on board. There was a Japanese couple in the seats at the very front and I did not envy them their choice. Yes, they would have spectacular views but I knew that all they would see beneath them would be a sheer drop – not the sort of view I would want to have so soon after breakfast ! Then the doors closed and off we went higher and higher up the mountain. We rose right up into the clouds and when we reached the top – yes you have guessed it – we could not see a thing. All the spectacular view which Bergen is famous for from The Floyen was masked in mist. I commisserated with a young German couple who had just come in on The Aida and we all decided that the mist was bound to clear and we just had to be patient.

I took myself off on an hour’s hike around The Floyen through the pine forest. The dew was still on the trees, the smell of pine filled the air and all around was absolute silence. It was wonderful. At one point I passed a lake and spotted a young man packing up his camping gear. He had obviously spent the night in this beautiful place.

Back at the funicular station I found the mist was starting to clear and gradually the view emerged. There was Arcadia on the outskirts whilst at the berths in the centre of town were the smaller ships - The Aida and Fred Olsen’s Black Watch. By this time the carriages coming up the mountain were full to capacity with every car having about 10 standing passengers as well as those seated. I had obviously chosen wisely by getting up early.

I had an exhausting day wandering around Bergen. In and out of the old wooden buildings along The Bryggen, round the harbour and round the markets. Oh dear, there were those stalls selling furs again – Arctic Fox, Mink, Cayote, Reindeer not to mention the common furry rabbit. I went up and stroked them and went away. I returned and went away again. I returned again and again. What put me off buying was again the commercial aspects of the trade. Is there not a Sami shop in Bergen? If there was I could not find it. Then by chance I happened across a stall tucked away from all the others and this did have a few furs as well as lots of souvenirs. I chatted to the young Roumanian guy who was working on the stall and he told me that the owner was a Laplander – “look can you see how his face is broader and his eyes narrower?”. I could indeed. Now, Laplanders are in fact Sami people but one should never refer to them as Laps as this is extremely rude. “Oh, have I found a Sami Stall”– I asked. It appears that I had. Did I buy one of those beautiful furs? I leave the answer to your imagination.