The Nature of Norway

By Rick Steves

Elaborate stave churches are only the architectural reminder of Norway's Middle Ages. (credit: Rick Steves)

Norway's spectacular fjords are worth the price of traveling here. (credit: Rick Steves) When I'm in Norway, I'm always amazed at how clear it is that I am with "my people." Three of my grandparents left hard times in Norway for hard times with promise in the US. Whether or not your grandparents came from Norway, nature is the real draw here. It's a land of intense beauty, with famously steep mountains and deep fjords carved out and shaped by an ancient ice age. When I'm in Norway, I find myself spending lots of time sitting on porches at Victorian-era hotels, mesmerized by the Norwegian mountains. Rather than jagged, they're bald and splotchy, with snowfields on top and characteristic cliffs plunging into inky water. There's something poetic about summer evenings on a fjord. The world is bathed in a mellow, steady, no-shadow light that hardly changes. The steady call of gulls and the lazy gulping of small boats taking on little waves provide a relaxing soundtrack. Sometimes I'll stroll through a village, enjoying the sight of blond cherubs running barefoot through the stalled twilight. Cobbled lanes lead past shiplap houses to sheer cliffs. Half the sky is taken up by the black rock of a mountain. It's a glorious setting, but the tourist season in fjord country is short just July and early August. In the summer, restaurants and hotels need to scramble like chipmunks to survive the winter. Wondering how that affects the job scene, I notice that most of the employees are seasonal. On the front line are

cute Norwegian kids visiting home for the summer. In the back, immigrants cook and clean. Local hoteliers and restaurateurs probably think that tourists don't come to some quaint fjord village to be served goat cheese by a guy from Pakistan or fish balls by a gal from Romania. The food here is fine, but nobody visits Norway for their cuisine. Most Scandinavian nations have one inedible dish that is cherished with a perverse but patriotic sentimentality. These dishes, which often originated during a famine, now remind the young of their ancestors' suffering. Norway's penitential food, lutefisk (dried cod marinated for days in lye and water), is used for Christmas and for jokes. While travelers swing from castle to castle through Germany, in Norway we seem to swing from stave church to stave church. These wooden churches are the only grand architecture surviving from Norway's Middle Ages. They're built like upside-down Viking ships, supported on each corner by staves or thick posts. Medieval Norway was essentially a society built of wood. Devastating fires were commonplace. Driving along the fjords and diving for a pullout each time a car approaches I realize that it's a very dangerous place not because of the traffic (there's very little), but because of the scenery. It's tough to keep your eyes on the road. Norway has laced and drilled an amazing road system to connect fjord country with Oslo. The longest tunnel is 15 miles. When a toll is levied, you don't stop and pay. A camera takes your car's picture, and the license plate is matched to your credit card, which is automatically billed. These new roads zip travelers around quicker, but also make previously tranquil valleys noisier. I had to drop one unfortunate campground with great riverside bungalows from my guidebook. For 10 years, it was a fine little budget place to sleep. Now, rumbling trucks trample the quiet, so it's out. While I love traveling here, I'd describe the tourist industry as somewhere between frugal, cheap, industrious, and greedy. The tourist trade is built upon a gift from God: incredible nature. Researching and updating my guidebook here sorting through all the creative marketing tricks masquerading as "deals" while they're jacking up all the prices I can't help but think, "These people are doing everything they can to get more business...except lowering prices." On the other hand, I've always appreciated the agreeable demeanor of the Norwegian people friendly but not overbearing, organized but not uptight, and with a lust for adventure befitting their gorgeous landscape. Known for their ability to suffer any misfortune with an accepting (if a bit pessimistic) attitude, Norwegians are easy to get along with. Communication is easy. Norwegians speak English so well that most tours at museums and historic sites simply dispense with the local tongue. Locals and tourists alike hear it in one language: English. Yes, Norway is expensive, but the great scenery and affable ambience are free. When things get pricey, remind yourself that Norway is stacked with superlatives. My people enjoy the most mountainous, most scenic, and most prosperous of all the Scandinavian countries. Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and public radio. Email him at rick@ricksteves.com, or write to him c/o P.O. Box 2009, Edmonds, WA 98020.

Norwegian Roots

Future travel teacher and his mom trying to save a buck in Norway, 1969. By Rick (Romstad) Steves I remember my first trip to Europe. I was a 14-year-old, dragged to the old country by a conspiracy of grandparents and parents solely to visit Norwegian relatives. I didn't want to go, and once there, I wanted to go home. Jet lag wasn't the problem. It was teeny-bopper culture shock: No Fanta. No hamburgers. And stunning women...with hairy armpits. But after a few days I was wild about Solo (Norway's orange pop), addicted to Polser wieners, and intrigued by all that blond hair. In the house of my great-grandmother's birth, I began to see the world differently. Hearing cousins translate the Apollo moon landing and Neil Armstrong's first words (Ett lite skritt for et menneske, ett stort skritt for menneskeheten), it was clear to me: that first big step was not just an American celebration. I remember being grossed out by Vigeland's nude statues in Oslo's Frogner Park. But I also remember a revelation in that same park: Watching tow-headed kids splashing with their parents in a fountain, I realized those parents loved their kids as much as mine loved me. It hit me: this planet is home to billions of equally precious people. Travel was prying open my hometown blinders. Now, as an adult, I find excuses to return to Norway almost annually: to enjoy those beautiful Vigeland nudes, visit the relatives, update my Scandinavia guidebook, accompany tour groups, or simply munch on a long skinny polser. Returning to Norway, I find my roots. My grandfather famous in the 1930s in Leavenworth, Washington, as a rowdy ski-jumper was a Romstad. So, although my last name is Steves (after a step-grandfather), my blood is Romstad and that branch of my family comes from scenic Gudbrandsdalen. But I don't visit Norway just to seek out blood ties or family names on tombstones. The roots I seek are cultural. Munching shrimp together on the Oslo harborfront, a new Norwegian friend introduced me to the ideas of Eric Dammann, a Norwegian philosopher. In the 1970s, Dammann started Future in Our Hands, a

political and social movement based on the fact that most Norwegians are satisfied with their material standard of living and are seeking other ways to live better. Their goal: spending quality time with friends and family, pursuing self-actualization, and getting closer to nature. I flew home with a new outlook la Dammann as my most prized souvenir. Quality travel requires meaningful conversation plentiful in Norway. Here, where city halls are as grandly and lovingly decorated as churches, I found people almost evangelical about their belief in organizing society for the benefit of all. Discussions with relatives and new friends alike often led to comparisons of our two very affluent but very different societies. Living better by consuming less and controlling nature by obeying her are ideals I've picked up on my Norwegian travels. I've also learned to rein in my ethno-centricity. I once raved to an uncle in Oslo about how well the U.S. did in the Winter Olympics. Yes, he said, but per capita Denmark, with six medals, won twice the gold of the US.

Cousin Kari-Anne caught in a Vigeland embrace in Oslo. Norwegians are talented linguists. In Norway, the language barrier is just a speed bump. I speak only English and of all the places I've worked (shooting TV shows, leading tour groups, and researching guidebooks), communicating in Norway has been a breeze. Because Norwegians generally shift to English without missing a beat, it's tough to pick up any Norwegian. Still, it's important (and fun) to learn a few polite words. While there are fine tours, Norway is so well-organized and uncrowded that it's one of the easiest places in Europe to tour on your own. If you're inclined to explore Norway independently, do it. Norway is much feared as Europe's most costly corner. But the current exchange rate is not that bad. And if you take advantage of some great and unique money-saving options, travel in Norway need be no more expensive than anywhere else in Europe. Here are a few travel tips:

Tip 1: Get Good Information.

Equip yourself with a good guidebook and expect yourself to travel smart. Guidebooks are cheap tools for $3,000 experiences. And pick up information as you travel. My first stop in every new town is the tourist information office. Get a city map, learn what's on that evening, and find out where you can rent a bike, read your email, or wash your clothes. Norway's tourist offices are some of Europe's most helpful.

Tip 2: Travel in the summer.

Peak season travel is ideal: Norway lacks the summer crowd problems of Italy or France. And offseason comes with dreary weather and early darkness. In mid-summer you'll enjoy longer days and livelier sights. Open-air folk museums, while open all year, are vibrant only during July and August. Outside of summer, I find big cities most interesting.

Tip 3: Time is money especially during your vacation.

In this age when many travelers have more money than time, remember to make "budget" decisions based not only on what saves money, but what saves time. A bed on an overnight Norwegian train one of the great values in northern Europe avoids a long all-day ride, saves you the cost of an expensive hotel, and carves out an entire extra day in your itinerary. To travel smoothly, use the phone. Confirm that restaurants and museums are open and reconfirm hotel reservations. Norway has a simple phone system every number is eight digits with no area code. You dial direct from anywhere in the country.

Tip 4: Travel "Open-Jaw" by plane and car.

"Open-jaw" is the travel agent's term for starting and ending your trip in different cities. By arranging your flight and car rental "open-jaws" (and not having to backtrack) you save time and money. For instance, fly into Oslo and home from Bergen or Trondheim. If you're renting a car, do it before and after visiting big cities. I like to pick it up after Oslo and drop it upon arrival in Bergen (but always ask first about one-way drop-off fees). Cars are handy in the countryside, but expensive to park and unnecessary in the cities. Norway's city transit works great and day passes make it cheap.

Tip 5: Sleep cheap by taking advantage of special deals and alternatives to hotels.
Accommodations can break your budget or be surprisingly reasonable, depending upon what you know and how you plan. You can sleep comfortably in a private home even in the big cities. In the countryside, look for "Rom" or "Rum" signs advertising B&Bs. Hostels are another good alternative throughout Scandinavia. In addition, many campgrounds rent bungalows to campers without tents. You just need to bring sheets. Packing sheets often saves $10 a night in bungalows, hostels, and private rooms.

Tip 6: Eat local style

Norwegian restaurants are highly taxed and therefore expensive. The cost of alcohol alone is sobering. Budget eaters in Norway enjoy a smorgasbord for breakfast (often included in the room price) and find daily specials for lunch (dagens rett). You can generally get unlimited vegetables (usually potatoes) when you order a restaurant's entree. Just ask for seconds. While many Norwegian pizzerias offer a relatively cheap all-you-can-eat dinner with a hearty salad bar, the bill doubles if you order a beer. Cheap cafeterias often close early (around 5:00 or 6:00). Picnic. Fresh produce, colorful markets, and efficient supermarkets abound in Norway. Just as you don't choose to spend the time and money to eat out every night when you're home, you can eat in during your travels, too. A picnic dinner in your hotel room can be a relaxing end to an intense day of sightseeing. When moving into a hotel, I borrow a few plates and utensils from the breakfast room and make a quick shopping trip to stock a makeshift hotel room pantry.

Tip 7: Use ATMs & local cash

ATMs are the way to go easy to find, offering decent rates 24 hours a day. Smart budget travelers use hard kroner for day-to-day expenses. Many of my favorite places don't take credit cards: homey B&Bs, cozy hole-in-the-wall restaurants, markets, and mom-and-pop shops. And these days, more and more of the shops that do take credit cards require a minimum purchase. Norway provides the most gentle of culture shocks awesome nature, a vivid and still-lively folk culture, and a "good government" attitude that's a real eye-opener for many American visitors. Travel smart, and it's well worth the price of admission
For up-to-date specifics, see the latest edition of the Rick Steves' Scandinavia guidebook. We also offer freespirited tours of Europe.

South Norway's Setesdal Valley

By Rick Steves Welcome to the remote and therefore very traditional Setesdal Valley. Probably Norway's most authentic cranny, the valley is a mellow montage of sod-roofed water mills, ancient churches, derelict farmhouses, yellowed recipes, and gentle scenery. The locals practice fiddles and harmonicas, painting flowery designs on wood, whittling, and gold- and silverwork. The famous Setesdal filigree echoes the rhythmical design of the Viking era and Middle Ages. The Setesdal Valley joined the modern age with the construction of the valley highway in the 1950s. All along the valley you'll see the unique two-story storage sheds called stabburs (the top floor stored clothes; the bottom, food) and many sod roofs. Even the bus stops have rooftops the local goats love to munch. In the high country, just over the Sessvatn summit (3,000 feet), you'll see herds of goats and summer farms. If you see an Ekte Geitost sign, that means genuine homemade goat cheese is for sale. (It's sold cheaper and in more manageable sizes in grocery stores.) To some it looks like a decade's accumulation of ear wax. I think it's delicious. Remember, ekte means all-goat really strong. The more popular and easier-to-eat regular goat cheese is mixed with cow's-milk cheese. Each town in the Setesdal Valley has a weekly rotating series of hikes and activities for the regular, stay-put-for-a-week visitor. The upper valley is dead in the summer but enjoys a bustling winter. This is easygoing sightseeing nothing earthshaking. Let's just pretend you're on vacation.

For up-to-date specifics, see the latest edition of the Rick Steves' Scandinavia guidebook. We also offer freespirited tours of Europe.

Norwegian Christmas

Norway, sitting on the north of Europe, has the longest and darkest winters in Europe. It's also about the least church-going country in Europe. The Norwegian word for Christmas is actually a preChristian Viking drinking festival: Jul. In the 10th century King Haakon I moved the heathen custom of drinking Jul (Yule) to December 25th to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Gradually the pagan feast was Christianized. While the name Jul was kept, the holiday became all about Jesus. Imagine the ruckus time as the old Norwegians celebrated the ebb of winter. Carnivores were in hog heaven as there was an abundance of good, fresh meat. Jul was a time when animals were slaughtered which made more sense in that subsistence economy than feeding them through the winter. When the beer was brewed, the animals slaughtered and the bread baked, the house was cleaned and the party began. Santa Lucia Day (December 13) kicked off a period when gnomes and trolls ran wild and there was no work allowed. Enough wood was brought in to last the entire holiday. Animals (those not slaughtered) were given a little extra hay. Even the birds were cared for as grain they liked was lashed to posts outside homes. After a big feast, remaining food was not cleaned up. It was left out overnight for the little people. If you neglected your nisse those mischievous elves ill fortune would hit your family. On Christmas day after church, Julebukk (or caroling) groups sang and entertained door to door in exchange for goodies. In some places people still use horse and sleigh and sleigh bells are often heard as they make their way to their neighbors for Christmas cakes and delicacies. In this season of games and merriment, nobody mentions children's bedtimes. Today, the Norwegian Christmas season feels very low key. Commercialism has crept in, further discrediting it to secular Norwegians. While churches enjoy their best attendance of the year and are busy with Advent concerts through the season. While Christmas concerts end with a spirited but outof-place-feeling Norwegian version of "Beautiful Savior," (in which the entire audience sings the last

verse together), you see almost no Christian elements to the holiday decorations. I didn't see a manger scene anywhere in my travels here. It's almost as if the dead-of-winter date chosen 17 centuries ago to celebrate the advent of the Son has reverted back to the pagan festival this Christian one was designed to replace. Norwegian Christmas is a festival of lights which seems to promise the return of the sun and longer days. The focus on light in Norway is clear. They miss it more, and they need a spirit boost during those weeks when the high noon feels like twilight and it's dark by 4:00. In good, understated Norwegian fashion, houses are decorated only with white lights some times real candles, more often electric lights posing as candles in the windows. A plastic Santa or Nativity on the lawn or garish colored lights along the eves would probably put you in the neighborhood dog house. In four days I never saw a colored light...or a manger scene. It seems to make sense in a land that seems to have organized itself beyond a need for God. And the pre-disposition to embrace the festival of light aspect of Christmas fits a people more into sun worship when it comes to working up a tan in the summer than any other nation. Santa Lucia Day, December 13 A highlight of the season is December 13th, Santa Lucia Day. The festival celebrating the "queen of lights" is celebrated in schools, day-care centers, nursing homes and hospitals, with processions led by a young Lucia in a white robe with a crown of lights on her head and a candle in her hand. Traditionally the girls bring baskets of saffron buns to hand out. Historically Norwegians considered what they called Lussinatten the longest night of the year and no work was to be done. From that night until Christmas, spirits, gnomes and trolls roamed the earth. Lussi, a feared enchantress, punished anyone who dared work. Legend also has it that farm animals talked to each other on Lussinatten, and that they were given additional feed on this longest night of the year. In village church concerts, the finale is not Silent Night as in the US, but Santa Lucia. The children's choir, with their leader wearing her crown of candles, processes down the aisle like a wedding in reverse and into the night, as if to spread their light through the community. The legend of Santa Lucia: In the early hours of the morning of December 13th, a young woman of rich and noble parents, dressed in a white gown, with a red sash and a crown of lingonberry twigs and blazing candles, would go from one farm to the next. She carried a torch to light her way and brought baked goods to each house. She returned home by sunrise. Every village had its own Lucia. Santa Lucia Day celebrations were strong first in Sweden and spread from there to Norway. The origins of today's celebration can be traced to the 4th century martyrdom of a Sicilian virgin named Lucia. In Norway and Sweden it is still a custom on December 13 for a girl in a white dress (representing the Saint), to bring a tray of saffron buns and steaming coffee while waking the family with a song. She is called the Lussibrud (Lucy bride) and her pastry (saffron buns) is Lussekatter.

Lucia symbolizes light and growth for human and beast as she emerges out of the darkness. Because her name means "light" she very early became the great patron saint for the "light of the body" the eyes. Many of the ancient light and fire customs of the Yuletide became associated with her day. Thus we find "Lucy candles" lighted in the homes and "Lucy fires" burned in the outdoors. Into the bonfires people would throw incense, and while the flames rose, trumpets and flutes played to celebrate the changing of the suns's course. Before the Reformation, Saint Lucy's Day was one of unusual celebration and festivity because, for the people of Sweden and Norway, she was the great "light saint" who turned the tides of their long winter and brought the light of the day to renewed victory. In ancient times the celebrations of Saint Lucy's Day announced to the demons of winter that their reign was broken, that the sun would return again and the days would become longer. Julenisse

While Santa Claus comes from America (really established as a Coca Cola advertising spokesperson in the 1930s) and St Nicholas comes from Germany, the Julenisse come from the Norwegian forest just behind the family barn. While there are entire communities of nisse who come in all shapes and sizes, theJulenisse is a kind of cross between Father Christmas and a nisse. The most characteristic features of Norway's answer to Santa Claus are his red stocking cap and long white beard. The Julenisse wears knee breeches, hand-knitted stockings, a Norwegian sweater and a homespun jacket. On top he wears a heavy fur coat it can get cold in Norway in the winter. He is jolly and happy, but can also be stern and even a jerk. If you don't stay in good with him through bribes, he can sabotage your happiness in any number of ways. Old timers believed the nisse was the original settler of the land. His primary duty was to protect the land and buildings. He kept the farm in good order and would be helpful as long as he got his Christmas porridge or Christmas beer and lefse on Christmas Eve. Many farms would make up a bed for the nisse on Christmas Eve and the honorary place at the table stood ready and waiting for him. Children grow up believing in this guy. A friend or relative dressed up as Julenisse comes to the house with a sack of presents on Christmas. In "naughty or nice" Santa style, he asked the famous question, "Are there any good children here?" When the Christmas porridge is put out in the barn on Christmas Eve, it is gone the next morning.

Trees

To the pre-Christian pagans celebrating their way through the dead of the Nordic winter, evergreens swags, wreaths, trees promised the return of summer. Today, far and away the dominant Norwegian Christmas season icon is the evergreen tree strewn with tinsel, homemade ornaments, Norwegian flags, and candles (occassionally real, generally electric). Every mall and every town square comes with a tall twinkling tree, capped with a star. The Christmas tree usually a spruce or pine either bought in a parking lot depot (as in America) or chopped in the woods must be fresh and green and fragrant to signify the idea of vitality and growth in spite of the dark winter. While greenery has long decorated homes, the tradition of a decorated Christmas tree came from Germany in the 1800s. Traditionally it's not put up and decorated until Little Christmas Eve, December 23. The northern European custom of the candlelit Christmas tree is derived from the belief that it sheltered woodland spirits when other trees lost their leaves during winter. Locals love their trees. In fact, many visit the historic Bogstad Manor, perhaps the finest mansion in Oslo, to see the sumptuously decorated 19th century style tree year after year. The royal family has a fondness for Christmas trees. The king's subjects knew this well when, in WWII when he was in exile in Britain, they would smuggle him a good tree each Christmas especially cut for him from his cherished homeland. The royal family is back in Oslo now. But each year the people of Oslo continue the tradition, sending a grand tree which stands on Trafalgar Square in London. Now it's to remind the English of how the Norwegians were thankful for their support during the dark years of Nazi occupation. Norwegians enjoy holding hands around their Christmas trees and singing classic carols as they circle. You'll see well-bundled up school classes making two concentric circles, joined by a Julenisse, circling in two directions while singing. Food Norwegians do a lot of baking throughout the Christmas season. Cookies, holiday cakes, gingersnaps are popular. People drink hot mulled wine of a specially brewed Christmas beer. On Christmas Eve,

families gather for a festive meal that includes pickled herring salad and roast duck, goose, or pork loin. In Norway too, Christmas comes with special meals. Families treat children to a special rice porridge. At Christmas an almond hidden in the mix. The child who discovers it wins a prize...and it's a marzipan pig a gift reminiscent of olden times when a peasant family's wealth was tied up in its precious pig. Julel or Christmas beer also goes back to medieval times when the Vikings liked to celebrate the winter solstice with a particularly stout brew. And holiday deserts are a big part of Norway's Christmas season: the local Christmas fruitcake called Julekake and a towering marzipankransekaka...festooned with Norwegian flags and party poppers. Julel special Christmas beer which is brewed on farms custom dates back to the pagan feast known as Joulu or Lol when horns filled with beer during the festivities were dedicated to the Norse gods Odin, Froy and Njord. One Norwegian Christmas custom begins in late autumn at harvest time. The finest wheat is gathered and saved until Christmas. This wheat is then attached to poles made from tree branches, making perches for the birds. A large circle of snow is cleared away beneath each perch. According to the Norwegians, this provides a place for the birds to dance, which allows them to work up their appetites between meals. Just before sunset on Christmas Eve, the head of the household checks on the wheat in the yard. If a lot of sparrows are seen dining, it is suppose to indicate a good year for growing crops. "Wassail" comes from the Old Norse "ves heill" to be of good health. This evolved into the tradition of visiting neighbors on Christmas Eve and drinking to their health. In Norway on Christmas Eve, visitors should know that after the family's big dinner and the opening of presents, all the brooms in the house are hidden. The Norwegians long ago believed that witches and mischievous spirits came out on Christmas Eve and would steal their brooms for riding. Norwegian graveyards flicker with candles as loved ones are kept in mind during the holiday season. Christmas Eve At 5 pm church bells peal. Fullest day of year. People in traditional finery. After service, big family dinner. Bowl of porridge with almond for kids. Bowl left for nisse. Joining hands and caroling around tree. School groups do this all over town. A knock on the door. The Julenisse with a sack full of gifts asks "Are there any good children here?" After presents, it's coffee and cakes. White is the color of Christmas in Norway not only the whiteness of the snow, but the white lights used for decorations and the white candles that light the tree on Christmas Eve. You won't see a colored light anywhere.

Oslo

Norway's capital, while the most interesting sightseeing stop in the country, doesn't feel very much like Christmas. Its streets are decorated, with locals not ready to rely on the Julenisse out shopping. With global warming, it is typically bare and wet (the cold comes and stays after Christmas these days). But wintry wonderlands are commonly just inland a bit with higher altitudes. The ice rink in the town center is a lively spot for people watching. The local subway zips anyone interested in some skiing or sledding into the nearby hills and up to the famous ski jump. Weekends are lively with Christmas markets, otherwise precious little. There are lots of Christmas concerts. Drbak, a small town 20 miles south of Oslo, is famous for two things: locals sank a Nazi war ship in the narrow straight it fronts...and it's Norway's self-proclaimed capital of Christmas. Still, Drbak feels like any idyllic town on a fjord. It just has a passion for promoting Christmas and selling the notion that it is Santa's postal code. The Julehus, a converted church, overlooks the town square. It is filled with red Christmas elves and holiday handicrafts designed by Eva Johansen and her hard-working crew. The local restaurant serves all the traditional meals with the fire over-looked by impish elves and Julenissen. Down at the marina the director of the tourist office grows a scraggly beard and wears his julenisse outfit and scatters mail everywhere. They claim to receive 1,000 pieces of mail addressed to Santa Claus each year. They actually mail back a card with a holiday greetings to each piece of mail and the particularly heart-tugging letters get a small present in the mail. Enjoying a Santa Lucia event in a small town senior day center, I felt how Christmas in Norway is celebrated with a unique intimacy and a Scandinavian flair for community. Santa Lucia processions are led by a young Lucia wearing a crown of lights. This home has housed widows and seniors for over 200 years and today the kindergartners are bringing on the light in more ways than one. The children baked the traditional Santa Lucia saffron buns a treat both bringing back distant childhood memories and kicking off life-long memories for these kids. It's with small rituals like this that traditions survive and stay strong from generation to generation. Taking their cue from Santa Lucia, Norwegians cozy in their homes brighten their long dark winters with lots of candles, white lights, and greenery.

For up-to-date specifics, see the latest edition of the Rick Steves' Scandinavia guidebook. We also offer freespirited tours of Europe.

Svalbard Bound

Ross Wollen has entered the ultimate "Back Door" to the Arctic on a dogsled. By Ross Wollen I should probably explain why I wanted to go to Svalbard at all, because it is such an unusual destination. When I met Mr. Steves in Oslo, and told him that we were going there, he called me an "odd duck." I think I was proud of being an "odd duck." I travel as often as I can, and have recently realized that fewer of my best memories are linked with the major tourist destinations. The highlight of a trip to Greece was arriving off-season in the island of Tilos my girlfriend and I were the only two tourists on the island and were given the penthouse suite for $20. The highlight of a roadtrip through the US wasn't Mount Rushmore or Yellowstone but an isolated two-lane highway through Nevada dubbed "the loneliest road in America." The modern tourist machine often dulls the sense of exploration that one should feel while traveling. Reading about Svalbard, also known as Spitsbergen, I got excited about going somewhere that nobody I knew had ever even heard of, but that offered as much beauty and fascination as anywhere else I could find. The fact that it was at the top of the world, as far North as anyone could possibly travel in comfort, added a whole sense of adventure to the destination. My interest began with a stunning photograph in a Rough Guide book, and was stoked by the descriptions in the Lonely Planet

guidebook, which touts Svalbard relentlessly. Lonely Planet even suggests that visitors consider Svalbard in their one-week itinerary! Upon landing I was somewhat disappointed, however. I expected it to be a place of jaw-dropping beauty. It is attractive, but its sights don't initially stand up to the impressive Western fjords, which I suspect most travelers, like myself, visit immediately beforehand. I was a bit depressed our first night, wondering if it was worth the difficulty it was to get there. The major problem with tourism in Svalbard is that it magnifies the basic hassles of travel. The money is an issue: airline tickets cost as much as international flights (we paid around $400 each), and lodging and eating costs are inflated above the already high Norwegian norms. The time involved in getting to and from Tromso, the nice but unspectacular city from which all flights to Svalbard depart, will waste a couple days. Unseasonably cold weather necessitates extra packing. These impediments would make a trip to Svalbard prohibitive for any traveler. My mother was footing the bill as a graduation present, and had I been paying out of my own pocket I suspect that I wouldn't have even considered it as a destination. Longyearbyen, the destination of all flights in, is a unique and curious little town. The influence of the arctic environment is obvious, resulting in some unusual engineering and vibrantly colorful painting, to combat the darkness of the winter months. It is also a surprisingly cosmopolitan town, with art galleries, long wine lists at restaurants, and an outstanding grocery store and mini-mall. The men and women working in the tourist sector generally speak great English, and all seemed like worldly, welltraveled people.

While dogsledding, Ross could look down from the plateau at the coast of the Arctic ocean. One of the single greatest aspects of Svalbard was the enthusiasm of its residents. Mainland Norwegians who I spoke to about the archipelago, most of whom had visited, said that it had an addictive quality. Many of the residents, especially those working in tourism, live there because they love it, and began their own experiences as tourists. They love to show their home to you. The town itself is worth just a few hours of exploration. There is an interesting museum (where the caretaker refused to accept my entrance fee), a spooky little graveyard, abandoned mines, and a couple of glaciers visible in the distance. Tourists are cautioned not to leave the town limits without a firearm in case of polar bears (I gather that the threat is exaggerated for effect), so there isn't much

of an easy opportunity for scenic walks or hikes. The sites are such that our taxi driver who we hired for an hour tour ran out of things to show and tell us after forty minutes. The real attraction of Longyearbyen is the plethora of activities available. All of the activities offered in Longyearbyen involve experiencing the arctic environment surrounding it. Snowshoeing, dogsledding, snowmobiling, and Nordic skiing make up the bulk of the winter activities offered, but these are largely unavailable to the summer traveler. Summer activities include hiking, glacier walks, rafting and kayaking. Tamer, more local activities include fossil hunts and mine tours. Costs are similar across the board half day trips are about $50 per person, and full day trips about $100. The entirety of our first day was spent on the most popular day-long boat trip offered. About fifteen tourists (nearly all of whom were Norwegian) were packed into a small old steamer that rumbled south down the coast of Spitsbergen, the largest island in the Svalbard archipelago. The coastline was an endless series of black, jagged peaks, dusted with snow. The centerpiece of the trip was an hourlong stay at Barentsburg, a small mining town populated entirely by Russian and Ukrainian workers that still ships coal back to the mainland. Aside from the Norwegian currency used it was quite impossible to tell that we were anywhere but Russia. It was one of the oddest and most fascinating places I've ever seen, and the residents seemed happier than you might expect miners at the end of the earth to be. On the way back, we stopped by a bay choked with pack ice and fed by a large glacier. This was supposedly the best area for polar bear sightings, but we only found a handful of seals. The trip, as a whole, was interesting but not much better than any of the days we had spent traveling on the mainland.

A pretty row of identical houses in Longyearbyen, colored brightly to counter the monotonous colors of the landscape. The highlight of our stay in Svalbard was unquestionably a two-hour dogsledding trip conducted on a plateau a few miles outside of Longyearbyen. I was given a team of dogs to drive, while my mother sat in the sled. We only had to go over one hill before we completely lost sight of all human influence it was 360 degrees of mountain and snow, and nothing else. It was the quietest and cleanest and most undisturbed place I had ever been, and one of the most beautiful. Driving my own dogs was

easy and tremendously fun, and, with the surroundings, I found it easy to imagine that I was sliding over uncharted territory, on a race to the North Pole. This short trip rescued Svalbard for me although the experiences I had leading up to it were interesting and worthwhile, they weren't as awesome as I had expected. Sledding in the mountains was the first time that I keenly felt that I was in the Arctic, and enjoying an utterly unique experience in one of Earth's truly unique places. I don't know if I'll ever return to Svalbard the cost and time involved make it totally unsuitable for a second three or four day trip. But if I do return, I know exactly what I'll do: another dogsledding trip, this time at least a week long. A number of guide companies offer much longer dogsledding treks that go across the islands of Svalbard and into the multi-year ice north of the island in the Spring. Visiting for only a few days, as we did, is an inefficient and unfair way to see the archipelago. In Western Norway, a short ferry trip will show you every inch and angle of an amazing fjord; in Svalbard, the attractions are neither distinct nor compact (nor well-labeled) enough to be revealed in a just few days' time. Still, it feels good to look at the top of the globe and actually know that desolate looking chunk of land and also know that it's a place Rick Steves will probably never go.
For up-to-date specifics about less-remote places in Scandinavia, see the latest edition of the Rick Steves' Scandinavia guidebook. We also offer free-spiritedtours of Europe.