Three days after my birthday, we left for a light speed tour of Scandinavia: Stockholm, Borlänge, Oslo, Trondheim, Bergen or bust in five sleep deprived days. It's all a little blurry, but here's what I remember:
Sunshowers in Stockholm--roses in a churchyard and eating fried herring wraps in the rain. The hands-down best Best Western I've ever stayed in, and fields of wild lupine splashing the green, grassy roadsides in pink, purple and blue. Late afternoon in Oslo, the sun setting slant-wise through the trees at Akershus Castle. Landing at the airport outside of Trondheim and feeling a wild, northerly feeling I've had once or twice before while slipping through some dark Inside Passage-way aboard a ferry boat bound for Alaska. We dined royally that night on roast Reindeer and cloudberry parfaits inside an 18th century smithy, inside the walls of a city that celebrated its 1000th anniversary all the way back in 1997. Glowering clouds over beautiful Bergen, its row of red, white and green wharf houses in a permanent state of Christmastime cheer. Best of all: finally finding a country that's named something truly worthwhile after me.