We’re baaack. Two glorious weeks in Scandinavia and enough
material to last a lifetime. Not that this will become a travel blog. But
indulge me a bit.
First of all,
let’s start with Norway. It’s every bit as gorgeous as you can imagine, with
thunderous waterfalls, majestic mountains, and amazing fjords. The chocolate is swoon-worthy, the people are
kind and helpful.
But there’s one area where the
fairy tale breaks down, and it’s when locals estimate how long it will take an
average American to walk to a given location. As if the entire population has
agreed on this figure, any given person in Norway will tell you it’s “just a 15
minute walk” to get anywhere. Often they
will add some comment about how invigorating and delightful this can be. However, they are not pulling a heavy piece
of luggage with a broken wheel.
Nor are they people who avoid
the gym, and who drive if anything is more than a block away. They also don’t
realize that they have grossly underestimated said “walk,” and that 15 minutes
is actually 45.
Nope, they are walkers and
hikers. They feel a rush of, I don’t
know-- fitness?—as they stride briskly through hill and dale. It’s like they’re
all training for the Olympics. (How
every destination can be uphill escapes me, but this also seems to be the case.
I also think it should be against the laws of physics for a vegan to pull a HAM
string, but here we are.)
There are literally people in
Norway who herd hundreds of sheep by hand
in the rain and on steep cliffs that look as if you could fall to your death,
should you take one wrong step. Like wind-up action figures, they don’t even
break a sweat. And those sheep are the real reason I said we’re baaack.
But I miss those sheep and
their owners and their waterfalls. I
just wish someone would write a travel guide called No-hike No-way Norway for
wimpy travelers who walk three times more slowly than locals.
You
can order one of my books to read while you wait for next week’s blog—that one
will be about Sweden.
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