A Weekend in Stavanger

After two years of virtually no travel, 2022 opened the floodgates once again. In passing dinner conversation one night after a particularly dizzying spin class, Dawn and I flirted with the notion of booking a weekend away. Words became plans became a May weekend away in Norway's fourth largest city, Stavanger.

We arrived late on Friday night after the the emptiest flight I've ever taken. Not complaining--I had three whole rows to myself. Our hotel was right by the lake in the middle of the city and we pulled the curtains back the next morning to a view. 

Stavanger made its money in sardines, canning, shipping and oil, in that order. It's home to both a Canning Museum and a Printing Museum housed under the same roof; although you may think you have better things to do, they're actually pretty wonderful. Explore canned fish across the ages AND learn about how those cans got printed. There's not even a fishy smell for miles and the museum is in the middle of Old Stavanger, a settlement of 173 heritage wooden houses and narrow cobbled streets. 

From there, it's a short walk to the pub-lined harbour where an ugly view is hard to find. 

A stroll around the lake and a wander around the shops later, we found ourselves at the delicious Restaurant SOL, Stavanger's very impressive answer to fine dining. Three chef friends opened the place and it was doing a roaring trade. We opted for two courses of local sourced produce and fish with wine to accompany the multitude of tastes. 

Solastranden Beach

After a decadent lunch we hopped on the airport shuttle to Stavanger's closest beach which took us back past the airport and not too far from the city itself. The weather played nice and we were greeted with sunshine and the occasional bracing sea breeze. Hearty Scandinavian families walked, rode bikes and built sand castles on the shore making the most of the increasing daylight hours. 

We found a hotel bar just off the beach to enjoy a glass of prosecco before making our way back into town for a hotel rest and pick-a-mix stop. It turns out Norwegians love their weekend sugar just as much as their Swedish neighbours. 

Daylight continued to linger and as we headed home from dinner (a first time delicious Ethiopian food experience at Gadja in town) a few hours later at 10:30pm, it gave us perspective of how miserably dark winters would be. I'm not sure the spring into summer long days would be enough to get me through. 

Fjord Tour 

On Sunday morning, we made for the port to hop on a 3hr cruise of Lysefjorden and Preikestolen (also known as Pulpit Rock), Stavanger's most stunning natural beauty. Most people come to the city to hike the famous rock but Dawn made it clear there would be 'no mad walks up big hills. I know you, Jen.' And so we queued to buy tickets for Stavanger's number one attraction, by boat. Fate almost intervened when the cruise ships docked and the ship was nearly sold out. My advice: book tickets online in advance and avoid the drama. 

We opted for the outdoor top deck views and although temperatures weren't arctic, we were grateful for our hats, scarves and layers. 

The scenery was incredible. Every which way we turned, it was impossible to be disappointed. The water danced, reflected, shone in ways I did not know was possible. The air tasted just like you image oxygenated, pollution-free fresh air would--it made a stark contrast to any day in even blue-sky London. The entire journey was absolute magic. 

Debarking and making for the airport after a weekend of fresh air and blue skies felt like a bit of a let down. And clearly a weekend is not enough to really dive into Norway's beauty. So I'll keep it on my list of places to return to--next time I'll take that hike up the big hill. 

Norwegian Winter Wonderland

Our second day in Central Oslo started auspiciously enough. We went for coffee and pastries. In the process, a tall, charming older couple sat down at the couches next to us and commenced discussion in a beautiful version of the English language reserved for tall, charming polyglots. We hated them. Only they were too nice to hate. And so we nattered on about Oslo, about the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony that was taking place next door. 

What a fantastic weekend to give a Peace Prize. The roads were blocked off in lots of places; but what this meant was that a group of men in big coats stood in the middle of the empty road and paused scant traffic. Lovely.

So we navigated the stopped traffic. And from there, we buttoned ourselves up in the multifarious layers we'd put on and made our way on a public bus to the Norwegian Museum of Culture History, a bit of a misnomer for this outdoor winter wonderland. There is a museum buried somewhere within the park. But the grounds of the park house a series of structures, buildings and replica farmland from the old days of Norse lore. The sky was blue, blue.

The air was cold, cold. But the locals didn't seem flustered. Kids, parents, old people were bundled up in their best snow gear and wandered from building to building eating Norsk delights, drinking glogg and generally being tall and healthy. I seemed to be the only frozen person for miles.

There was a Christmas market too. Dawn loves a Christmas market and so we wandered the stalls nibbling on samples and buying traditional Norwegian things like New Orleans smoked barbecue sauce. Totally not kidding. 

But this cheese, this brown cheese, WAS traditional. It's called Brunost and it's actually whey cheese, so technically not cheese. This guy writes about what it really is quite well. Suffice it to say, it's an acquired taste: salty and brown tasting. Because brown is now a flavour.

And that's all we really had time for. Fjord tour, brown cheese, tall Norwegians and a Christmas market.

And, go figure, Christmas in Norway is actually a pretty great time to go. Blue skies, cold air, festive spirit. Jubel!

An Oslo Fjord Tour

One of the beautiful things about life in London is the ability to jet away to European destinations for the weekend. One of the beautiful things about travelling with Dawn, a friend from my early Hornsey School days, is that she's an organiser. And so, in early August, I found myself on the receiving end of a completely booked weekend trip to Oslo.

When it comes to Scandinavia, I seem to make the same mistake time and time again. I've only ever graced the shores of these magical lands in the dead of winter. Finland in February; Denmark and Sweden in February; and now, Norway in December.

And so, for a weekend away, I checked my luggage in order to accommodate the boots, jumpers, socks, thermals that would be needed for the sub-arctic weather. And wow, was it cold. I can't remember specifics but the air seemed a lot bluer, a lot thinner in this southern part of the country.

And despite the limited daylight, when the sun was out, my goodness the scenery was stunning. Central Oslo seemed jam packed: 

Just kidding. We had two big itinerary tickets: fjord tour and Christmas market. So we took to the seas for a boat tour that quickly sold out. In winter, the service is less frequent. On the upside, in the winter, it comes with blankets.

Don't be mistaken by the low hanging sun; our trawler took us out at midday.

 

I could spout lots of facts here. That there are over 1000 fjords in the country. That they're all glacially formed. That they represent an untouched Norway of yesteryear. Or I could show you some stunning pictures that might entice you to go visit them yourself.

My favourite building, the Oslo Opera House, was built to represent a glacier depositing itself into the fjord itself. Ingenious.

These little houses are summer cottages where locals come to ditch their clothes and take a dip. They're now quite expensive to own but back in the day were an icon to endless summer days.

And then we literally boated towards the sunset.

The boat stopped several times with options for debarkation. From our table with the blanket and the reasonably priced mulled wine, we stayed put for the whole journey. When we eventually found our way back to the city centre, we'd frozen through the middle. And so, after suitable indoor thawing time, we eventually found a restaurant where dinner wouldn't cost both arms and both legs. 

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for a reasonably priced cocktail bar. So we wandered to a tiny little tented Christmas market in one of the town squares before trundling back to the hotel for room-side drinks. 

Dawn, having left no stone unturned, remembered to buy wine at Heathrow Airport. Now that's planning.