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Lucy Travels

Despite the constant cold rain, Claire and I had really enjoyed our time in Norway. However, the weather did put a bit of a damper on some of our plans, and we always came home cold, wet and exhausted. On Thursday we woke up and lingered over breakfast, unsure of what to do with our last day in Bergen. It didn’t get light until 10am and even the locals were hesitant to go outside.

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We trooped on, though, hoping to find some inspiration in town. Unfortunately, the most exciting thing happening in Bergen was a little boat in the harbour cleaning up trash. Really. It had attracted a crowd of onlookers who were snapping photos of the dramatic scene. Then we tried killing some time at a cafe, but it was STILL closed. Clearly we needed to make our own fun here.

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The one thing I really wanted to do seemed to be the one thing that we couldn’t do in the rain: hiking to the top of Mt Fløyen. There is a little funicular train that runs to the top every 15 minutes, and I was resigned to just doing that. But once we got to the station Claire and I exchanged a look, and we both had the same thought: Screw the weather, let’s hike this mountain!

After a gruelling Chutes-and-Ladders-esque climb up several ramps and flights of stairs, the mountain trail properly started. The trees protected us from the worst of the rain and our umbrellas did the rest of the work. The view was already spectacular, and I enjoyed the deep hush of the evergreen forest. The only sounds were the crunch of our boots and the little rushing brooks that had sprung up after the rain.

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Suddenly, the raindrops began to sting my face. I caught one in my hand and realized it wasn’t rain at all, but snow! This was the Norway I dreamt of! As we climbed higher, the snow turned from hard icy pellets to big fat flakes. Claire and I were ecstatic. The snow obscured the view but we didn’t care. As Australians we were thrilled to be out in a real live snow storm!

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We reached the top in just under an hour, and the snow cleared away just in time for us to see Bergen spread out below us. Adding to the dreamlike atmosphere at the snowy peak were hulking wooden pieces of playground equipment, a statue of a troll (“Fee-fie-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a Christian man!”) and a sign I was clearly disobeying.

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We happily skipped back down the mountain in less than thirty minutes, and rewarded ourselves for our adventure with homemade apple cake and cinnamon rolls (that we waited another half hour to get fresh from the oven).

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Claire and I were thrilled with our morning in Bergen and didn’t much care what else we did in town. We felt like we’d had a very successful trip. After wandering a bit and enjoying some Norwegian cheese we went to the airport and headed back to Edinburgh. I have a little time here to relax and get ready for our next holiday: Iceland!

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