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Norway

Norway

I arrived at Oslo airport the afternoon before Kay flew in the next morning, so I stayed at an airport hotel where I had to deal with a serious crisis. The host of our Airbnb in Oslo had stopped communicating with me which meant I had no instructions about how to get in, or if the place was actually available. I ended up talking with a very caring Airbnb customer service person who spoke rather quickly, and was not keen on cancelling the contract without giving the host a 12 hour chance to reply. I needed them to cancel it so I could get back all the money I had paid. That meant when I greeted Kay in Arrivals I had no idea where we would be that night, or what we could do with our bags for the day. Back in the airport hotel I finally got to talk with another caring Airbnb person who happily cancelled the deal and promised a full refund. The replacement hotel cost was nearly three times the refund, but at least we had somewhere to head for. When invited to review the non-stay I was rather critical. The response from the suddenly literate owner was that her life had been ruined by Airbnb and she was suing them.

We did a walking tour the next morning and the guide was not a Norwegian, as was also the case in the other two we did in the country. He was of Indian and Portuguese parents and boy, could he talk. But very interestingly, especially about the collective psyche of Norwegians. As he pointed out they are not big on what we would regard as social communication. If you look for eye contact they almost flinch, and I have enjoyed proving that correct. There is a fair degree of uniformity in appearance, but the odd Goth is seen. Young men usually have a hair style that is floppy in the front with a centre divide, like the Romantic poets such as Keats, so in moments of anguish or excitement they they can push their hair back in an expression of their emotions. But we haven’t found any problems in dealing with locals, who are seemingly interested that we have come from so far away, and if they haven’t been to NZ they want to.

It is a pity that you can easily work out what Norwegian money is in $NZ, by dividing by six. It took me eight days to stop being horrified at the cost of everything, after that time I was able to tell myself that it didn’t matter, and stopped telling Kay how much things really cost. Having been forewarned by plenty of you who had been there, my preparation was to buy a big bottle of gin on the way in and not buy wine for post daily exploring recuperation. Unfortunately, my limited experience of pouring and drinking spiritous liquor meant I was a bit heavy-handed for a few days, and the level of available gin diminished quite quickly. Adjustments were made and it lasted twelve days. I don’t know if that is good or bad, but I must admit that g&t is quite nice.

Oslo is a nice civilised city. I like trams, and it has plenty. We had one of those city cards that included local transport, so did a few random circuits and ended up with a degree of competence in getting about. In order to get our money’s worth from the cards we went to lots of museums and my favourites were about the Kon Tiki and a cold place exploration ship called the Fram. I knew a bit about both and it’s nice learning more. The Norwegians are quite polite about Scott, of the nearly South Pole, and when you see how Amundsen planned and executed his successful attempt they have plenty to feel smug about. A professional versus an amateur.

The plan on leaving Oslo was a train to the place starting with M where you change to the Flam railway and curl your way down to sea level, then a bus to Bergen. The night before leaving, advice was received that the bus couldn’t go all the way because of road works, and that last part would be by a later train. The train from Oslo got progressively late but we were reassured the Flam one would wait for us, and it did. It’s a great little train ride with big, big country, steep sides, waterfalls, great engineering, and ends up in a tourist trap. So we were keen to get the bus after a couple of hours. Obviously the roadworks were causing a bit of chaos because twice we put our bags into the luggage hold of a bus with the right number and destination, only to be told we were on the next one. We were not alone, and a collective angst was perceptible, even a little anger. When we finally got on the replacement train to Bergen there was a big enough crowd to overflow the available seats and I could see this would happen so we were purposeful and got seated. This train had several delays, each explained, the last being because there was a fire ahead. That announcement was at least more interesting than the others.

We did the obligatory fjord cruise from Bergen. I thought it was fine but not sensational. If Norwegians were not so phlegmatic those in this city might protest about the number of tourists, because it looked like a smaller version of Barcelona to me. On our first night after the late arrival the nearest eating place we found was called Angry Bite, a falafel joint where other hungry tourists included a Nvidia and a Tesla employee. It was fun asking questions of them, the Tesla lady being quite skeptical about some of her boss’s ideas.

Kay has been in charge of city activities and she has an interesting predilection for medical museums, so we had to go to the Leprosy Museum. It was an old wooden building, specially built in the 1800s, and seemed to me more like a jail than a hospital which is probably not a coincidence. This city has a household rubbish collection system I have never seen before. There are neighborhood places where you use your provided token to open the lid of a cylinder and put in rubbish that can be incinerated, and it is then sucked away via an underground pipe system to the city incinerator. Doing it appeared complicated for non-Norwegian people, and not wanting to break anything, we slid our rubbish into normal rubbish bins.

Bergen has a nice tram line out to its airport, although they call it light rail. From there we had the first of three short flights northwards to Trondheim, Tromsø, and Hammerfest where we had two nights in each. Trondheim accommodation was an Airbnb with a very small bedroom, Tromsø a hotel called Smarthotel (a chain to be avoided) which had the smallest room we have ever stayed in, and Hammerfest was a nice hotel with, incomprehensively, the smallest bathroom ever, when there was plenty of space for something larger. To sit on the toilet in a normal straight forward position you had to slide under the basin. I adopted an angled approach.

Although each flight wasn’t all in clear skies I really enjoyed looking at such interesting country from above. Norway appears to be one big rock that has been severely glaciated then partly flooded. Every view had sea, lakes, precipitous drops, and naked or snow covered rocks. Add in fringes of scrubby bush and a little agricultural land, plus the odd settlement, and that got repeated as we went north. Each of these cities was smaller than the one before and a bit colder. Trondheim had a lot of students and the male students all had the same hair do. A waitress in a fancy Tromsø restaurant was delighted to meet someone from NZ, and showed us her pounamu pendant from Greymouth. The main street has been turned into a pedestrian thoroughfare with heating under the paving to stop people skidding over when it’s icy. Hammerfest is rather small and the Hurtigruten cruise ship only stays there a couple of hours. It turned up while we were out walking to a local UNESCO site and we just got in and out before a bus load of passengers turned up to spoil things. There are reindeer wandering about as can be seen by evidence on the footpaths, and it was nice to wake up and see a couple on the grass outside our room. We went to the Reconstruction Museum which mainly dealt with the WW2 destruction that the Germans inflicted on northern Norway when they retreated. Basically they burnt and destroyed every town and Hammerfest was literally burnt to the ground. In the postwar years Norway was a poor country so rebuilding was not a straightforward operation. Now 70-80 years on they are trying to strike a balance between keeping the architecture of those days and dealing with buildings that are approaching the end of their useful life. But the best thing is we have now stayed above the Arctic Line in the northern most town in the world. And it was mostly sunny.

Norway is presently one of the richest countries due to the oil bonanza that started in the 60s. They have been very practical knowing that the wealth has to be conserved, as when the oil is gone, going back to fishing and a little agriculture won’t work very well. At present their two national funds are in total worth close to $US400,000 for each person, and if you want to see how many zeroes that is in total, multiply by 5.6 million, the country’s population. The country can afford to be generous to its citizens, and is, but tax levels are not low. One of its policies is to be the greenest country in the world and electric cars are subsidised, with a permanent ban on combustion engines in 10 years, I think, and a similar deal on cruise ships visiting. All financed by oil – interesting combination isn’t it.

Financially I have had to move with the times, and after a few small problems with my Wise card and strange card terminals, I now flash my phone about and magic happens as money flows away in this cashless society. I also have slowly gained some confidence about not always having a paper copy of tickets. But I do wonder what sort of a disaster it would be to go completely paperless and then lose your phone. (I don’t travel with any other device.) In Tromsø Airport we were faced with even more daunting progress. There was no one to check us in or deal with our bags. We had to navigate two systems, which Kay did with aplomb, and then watch our lonely bags automatically disappear along the conveyor belt. They reappeared in the little Hammerfest airport, which was an eight minute taxi ride away from our hotel. NZ$50.

Our last stop in Norway was east and then south in a bus, four hours, to Karasjok. This was the only bus ride I could not book in advance, and given there were only five people on it when we left my very small concerns were certainly misplaced. The main indigenous people in Norway are the Sami, who are across the north of Scandinavia and into Russia. In Norway they got a tough time after Norway’s independence in 1905, language suppressed and all the usual colonial nasty behaviour. But the culture remained strong, attitudes changed, and now they have their own parliament in Karasjok and basically have cultural independence. They used to be reindeer herders but not much of that happens now. You can buy lots of socks and gloves with Sami patterns on them, but I did cynically wonder if they weren’t made somewhere east of Sami country. We made a visit to the parliament which apparently has 25,000 registered voters and 39 MPs, and a very smart building to meet in. Essentially it is an advisory only institution, but more interestingly, they are very aware of the Maori political situation in NZ. The man from the parliament that showed us around said they had close relationships with them, and a Sami lady in the local arts centre said she really wanted to complete her studies in "Aotearoa". She reckoned she could usually pick a Sami person from a Norwegian but to the untrained tourist there is no obvious physical difference.

Next stop is in Finland. To finish with I am told to tell you Kay’s most useful travelling tip – when a door in your accommodation squeaks and wakes up your partner in the early hours, apply the provided shampoo to the noisy hinge or catch. It seems as effective as CRC.

Adjo.

Dennis.

1018 River Road
Hamilton 3210
New Zealand

johnscons

0274 929792

Categories
Andorra Liechenstein San Marino

Three little countries, and in between.

After Uruguay I flew to Barcelona. Putting it like that makes it sound simple, but it was three flights, four different airports, and lots of little things to cause travel anxiety. Right at the beginning, when I wanted be sure my bag was checked through to the end, I was told I only had a booking to Sao Paulo, which was the first stop. This was scary, but it was a code share flight so I explained about all the rest of it, and after a lot of key tapping the nice lady smiled and handed over three valuable boarding passes. And showed me my bag was going to Barcelona. I had two major concerns – a short stopover in Paris and whether my bag would arrive with me. The first was fixed by a take-off delay of the last leg, and after a very long wait my bag did turn up. I had started trying to see where I went to report its non-appearence. I was on Air France for the long flight to Paris and if you are forced to use their business class I can assure you the food is pretty good, as is the wine. I did a comprehensive survey of the later and then had a nice sleep.

Barcelona was the best entry port for a probably silly tick-off project I had thought about for a while. I suspect the push to actually go and visit Andorra, Liechtenstein and San Marino was the feeling that if I don’t do it now, I may never. It sounds a pretty easy thing to do, and if I had a private jet it would be. But it involves stringing together a lot of busses, trains, the occasional taxi, a couple of flights, and lots of places to have a sleep in. Because I was all alone my accommodation choices were mostly one step up from hostel dormitories which made for some interesting times.

Barcelona.

Last time there was 1973 and the big surprise then was finding the Sagrada Familia. I knew about the building but didn’t know where it was. My memory is climbing up one of the front towers. They were all there was above the ground then, I think. In my one full day there this time, I revisited and was totally awed by this unique and amazing building. I arrived a bit before my entry time and sat down in the shade outside. Beside me a man was setting up a harp to join the many people finding ways to extract a bit of money from the hordes doing the same as me. When on my OE in Paraguay I had seen and listened to someone playing a similar instrument, smaller than that which we see in orchestras, so I asked him in my simple Spanish if he was from Paraguay, I was close enough for him to look surprised. Columbian. For old times sake I walked down the Ramblas, which was a waste of time as it is presently a reconstruction site inundated by tourist like me, or a lot younger. After I arrived the previous day I had gone on a big walk as well, and it’s fair to say Barcelona central is a handsome place that looks like it would great to live in. But, as has been recently publicised the middle of it is full of tourists. If I lived there I would be very tempted to join those squirting water at tourists. I was told that had been stopped, and that’s no surprise because the income from tourism must be huge, and I guess those in charge might like to see it a bit less, but not so much as to hurt their pockets.

My accommodation was booked through Airbnb but turned out to be a room in a very central, self-described, hotel that also was a hostel. It was better than I expected. I found a good choice of Asian restaurants nearby which suited me. They were much cheaper than the standard Spanish for tourists places, and no one asked how much tip did I want to add to the bill. I think I had a temporary reversion to the travel attitudes I had long ago and without really meaning to, found I was being quite frugal.

Andorra.

The bus took a little over three hours to climb up to the Pyrenees and enter this rather strange little country. I didn’t know what it would look like and I wasn’t expecting to see so much modern construction jammed into the bottom of deep rocky ravines, and hanging off the steep sides. I was staying in Andorra de Velle which is the biggest town. The total population of the country is 83,000 and there are lots of smaller towns or villages, all told there seemed to more than enough apartment buildings in the main one for that number. But each place is strung out along the river at the bottom of their valley so there isn’t much width to build on and looks might be deceptive. The engineering involved in creating the towns and very good roads was interesting, I hope they never have an earthquake. The main open spaces are seemingly built over buildings below, although I did come upon a nearly flat park by the river one day. My attempts to find a suitable tour in English failed, Spanish and French only, so each day I hopped on a local bus, Line 2 and 6, and went out to the town at the end of the line and back. The drivers do not let you stay on at the turn around. You have to get off and walk a short distance to the next stop and, happily, pay another E1.90 to go back. I stayed in the small old town area and took a walk down to the main commercial area where I found a huge choice of label shopping along with anything else you might want to buy. Andorra’s main economic activity is tourism and couple that with 4.5% VAT, plus 10% income tax, and no import duties means the whole place is a duty-free shop. There were no shortage of people taking advantage. The only thing I saw that I might have bought had a crocodile label on it, and for some reason I can’t recall, I don’t wear that .

It is a very tidy place. No rubbish, I saw one bit of well hidden graffiti, no low life hanging about, no rough sleepers, no reminders of the well-behaved dogs some people have, flower boxes everywhere, lots of stone work. No need to worry about holes in the footpath. I have never seen so many serious cyclists, real ones, looking like they have recently been in France. All very pleasant and representative of a wealthy little place. I gather secretive banking is also economically important, although they have moved out of the list of naughty banking countries. It is very difficult to become a citizen which is no surprise, if I lived here I would be reluctant to share it. It’s a little too orgainised to tempt me but I like the tax situation.

My accommodation was in a place called Barri Antic Hostel and Pub. I was four stories up, the building was two rooms wide, and I was in the front with lovely views. I was also right above what seemed to be the two most popular bars in the whole town, and there was a two-day celebration of something of importance going on. On Saturday, my first night, closing time was 3 a.m. Even with the window shut and shutters down, wax ear plugs were a necessity. But the sunny mornings with the window open were lovely and silent.

Zurich.

This was my entry and exit place for a short one night stay in Liechtenstein. Once again it was 52 years since I was last in Zurich and I can say the lake looks the same. I did the free walking tour on my only full day there and the most reassuring thing I learnt was that Zurich is presently the most expensive city in the world. The previous evening I had a modest but acceptable meal plus two rather small glasses of wine. The cost was at least double the amount I would have paid at home, which made me wonder if my lack of the local German language had marked me out as someone to be grossly overcharged. Apparently not. When walking around town on my own, my main concern was to avoid trams, bikes, scooters and large black Mercedes sedans that seemingly were very silent. I found that not all streets were one way. My impression is that the locals put up with tourists but would be happier if those that did come were rich and discrete. On the other hand there are a lot of immigrants where I am which is great because their tasty food is better than the local fare which has a lot of potatoes and cheese.

I stayed in a place called easyHotel which is a hotel with no reception or other staff apart from cleaners. If you want your room cleaned while there it costs extra. I didn’t. Getting in required a bit of fiddling on a screen, creating your own key card, and then finding a quite pleasant and simple modern room. The only retro thing was that the hand basin was in the main room. On my return to Zurich I stayed there again and when I went to my room the door was open and it hadn’t been serviced. Very luckily a guy who was in charge of cleaning walked past and I gave him the problem. He showed me on his phone were it was reported as done, and told me was up to his neck with the job and tomorrow was his last day. He also got me another cleaned room.

My first visit to Zurich was in 1973 to catch up with a young man called Tony Ettlin who I had earlier met and travelled with in Peru and on to Bolivia.(If you have seen my account of that complete trip he was the curly blond headed guy in one of the photos of our walk to Machu Pichu.) He then lived in a village near to Zurich, and I thought it would be nice to see if I could meet him again on this trip. Son, Max did the Facebook thing for me and found a photo of a curly grey headed guy, and I got in touch. We arranged to meet up and go out for a meal after I returned from Liechtenstein. In honour of the occasion I did not wear my jeans, and broke out a shirt I had not yet worn since leaving home. Kay would have been very unhappy at all the creases in the wrong places. We had a really good evening together. Lots of travel stories and catch up histories of the last half century. Many similarities, the main one being that we are both still married to the girlfriends we left behind before that initial trip.

Liechtenstein.

A few facts first, with thanks to Wikipedia. The country population is 40,000 , the capital Vaduz has 6,000; it is the smallest double landlocked country; it has no debt; it has no military and 87 police on the beat; the lowest income tax rate is a bit over 2% and if you earn over $NZ400k you might go on to 22%. Once again secretive banking is big with a large amount of trusts and company registrations jealously guarded and not many lawyers. Apparently now you need a suitable story about where your money came from should you wish to invest there. Sound familiar?

I was only there for one night, which seemed enough. It was a train ride, then a bus, then a half hour walk to a very nice modern hostel, with private room and bathroom. I have form of not getting things right with trains, so I checked carefully before as to the platform it left from, how to be sure I was in a second class carriage and confirmed I didn’t have a seat number and was told 2nd Class did not. I got on, sat down, and then noticed a young lady looking at me quizzically, and eventually with the help of Google translate found she had a reserved seat that I was sitting in. I think there may have been a very small sign in incomprehensible German indicating that. In a similar but less embarrassing way, after I checked in and headed for my room I stepped out of the lift looking for the usual sign showing which room number was where. Nothing to see, so I took a few steps one way looking for room numbers on the doors. There were none. Then I looked down and found all the information was sign written on the floor. Some one should have told me. I walked into Vaduz, another half an hour, looked at most of the sights on the tourist map, and headed for Princely Cellars which the map said did local wine tasting. It was quite flash and no one else was there at midday, because as I then found out, they only did one wine tasting a day and that was a couple of hours away. I was offered a consolation prize of a couple of very meager tastes of their pinot noir. Central Otago has nothing to worry about from that source. At lunch time there were lots of young men in tight grey suits and white shirts walking purposefully. I assumed they might be bank employees. The scenery is pretty good being surrounded by rocky mountains and it’s all very tidy and pretty as befits a small wealthy country. My walk into the town was along dedicated biking/walking sealed pathways along side a mini river. There were lots of market garden sized plots of crops and vegetables, but it sort of looked more hobby farming than an economically sensible activity. I guess there might be a subsidy or three available. I was going to stay until late afternoon on the second day but decided to leave earlier because I couldn’t see anything else I wanted to do. I had been to a very smart art gallery and discovered that if you look intently at a big painting that just looks like one colour, it eventually shows you it is more complicated, or possibly my eyesight is deteriorating. Getting back to Zurich proved to be a bit different from planned when I mistakenly got on the wrong train, and realised just as the doors locked. Usual story with travel stuff ups – spend more money, this time another not cheap ticket. Couldn’t blame my eyes.

Bologna.

This was where I went to and from San Marino. I got there by train with a stop in Milan. That first leg was a scenic delight with mountains and lakes plus a few dark tunnels. One went on forever and once out in the open AI told me it was the Gottgard Base Tunnel, 57 kms and the longest rail tunnel in our world. The bit after Milan was a complete contrast, flat, boring, and we seemed to stop at every little tin pot grafittied town along the way. We went though Monza and stopped at Modena – you car fans will understand the mention. The contrast between Switzerland and Italy is considerable. I just mentioned graffiti, and Italy seems to have given up on it. Any suitable surface that isn’t in a flash shopping area has been got at. Nothing has changed from previous visits. But my initial impression of Bologna was rather positive. I loved the wide arcaded marble footpaths, and the central old bit with the high skinny tower and slightly strange cathedral which is a good example of why we go to Italy. I decided to be naughty and have a pizza, so consulted my landlord and followed his suggestion for my late evening meal. It was good, but why haven’t they caught up with existence off the little sharp wheel thingy that cuts pizza. Having to do it with a knife and fork is not easy, especially when the knife is far from sharp.

San Marino.

Last year the Economist published an article about the Russian influence there which was a bit of a revelation. And despite lots of carefully worded rebuttals from local officials it looks like a fair bit of that has stuck. As with the other two small countries secretive banking is important and possibly San Marino has yet to convince the powers that it has completely changed its ways in this matter. I kept my eyes open but didn’t see any obvious wealthy men from Moscow. I assume they have stopped being identified by their biologically improbable female companions, as seen in the 1990’s. But I did see a van with the Russian international tv channel logo on it parked outside police headquarters.

It has a population of 37,000 and San Marino town is built up to the top of the highest hill/mountain in the area. The views are wonderful. As with the other two small countries it is clearly not lacking in money, tourism is really big and that is not surprising as it is certainly worth a look. And there is no graffiti so far as I could see. I arrived on Sunday and the main narrow streets in the old town lead up to the 3 old fortresses on the top, where I went at a steady but not fast pace. These streets are lined with tourist shops and eating places. I was looking for a convenience shop to get a lunch snack but there were none. I ended up in a reasonably quiet and shaded street and ordered a hamburger. It cost NZ$20 and didn’t have tomato sauce or onions or a pickle. C’est la vie. On the way down I took a path that advised proper footware was required, but my jandals were fine, and it was nice to walk through a bit of light bush on my own.

My hotel was a real one where my single room could be described as cozy. When I entered I looked around for the place to put the door card and get the power going. I knew there had to be a slot and probably spent five minutes trying to not have to go and ask. Eventually I retreated to reception where I mentioned that I had been in hundreds of hotel rooms and never had such a problem before, and in response the receptionist did one click on her screen, turned it around to show me a large photo of where it was hidden beneath the wall a.c. controls. I had examined this bit of equipment very closely and had not found the slot. She told me guests often had the same problem. I thought about asking why not explain in advance, or print off the screen photo, but just said "grazie" and retired to get the a.c. working as it was over 30⁰ outside. I did get a voucher for a free glass of wine at the bistro beside the hotel. There was nothing else nearby and I went there for my evening meal. I sat at an outside table for a long time without any of the staff even looking at me. Normally I would get up and leave, but the choices were not good and free booze has always been attractive. So I went inside and did my best Italian shrug and a little hand waving, to imply I wasn’t entirely happy about what was happening. It worked and the glass of wine was extremely big.

I rearranged transport the next day so I could spend some time in Rimini. The NZ army took part in the battle with Germans in 1944 to take it, and Kay’s father was probably part of that, and as well he spent some time later in the hospital there. My idea was to find a museum with some WW2 history, but it was Monday and all were closed. I got a map with12 sites to look at, and walked around those trying to keep in the shade. The winner was a bridge from the time of Tiberius. Then I sweated my way to the beach where all the beach I could see was covered a vast grid system of perfectly aligned identical umbrellas with two reclining chairs under each. For a country whose citizens seem to thrive on taking little notice of rules it seems out of character.

There ends this saga. Tomorrow I take a couple of flights starting from Bologna and ending up in Oslo. Kay arrives early the next morning and we have a month in the north. I am relieved to have got through to this stage without any real problems, and I think I can say that I won’t be doing anything quite as complicated as this one again.

Arrivederci.

Dennis.

1018 River Road
Hamilton 3210
New Zealand

johnscons

0274 929792