troldhaugen

Edvard Grieg lived near Bergen, and his house has been made into a museum. So my second full day in Bergen, I put on my long underwear and hiking boots and headed out to take a city bus down to Troldhaugen, his house. This is what I love about Norway: the official Bergen tourist brochure doesn't say, oh, it's X miles out of town, rent a car or take a taxi. Instead, it gives detailed instructions on how to get there on public transportation. And it's not like the bus goes right there - when you get off the bus, you still have to walk a mile (along a well-sign-posted road) to the museum.

Here's his komponisthytte (composer's hut - Norwegian has some German-like tendencies with the long made-up words):

It's right on a big lake, or fjord, or something. Apparently the view is lovely, but when I was there it was mostly snowing horizontally. Grieg and his wife, sensibly, spent their winters in sunny southern climes (Denmark). The hut is totally cosy inside, with an upright piano and a couch and a big window looking out at the view.

This was the one time I was a little sad to be traveling alone - the snow at Grieg's house was *perfect* wet snowball snow, and there was nobody to throw it at. (Literally nobody - I was the only visitor for most of the two hours I was there.) So I took a picture of the snow instead, with Grieg's house in the background.


Imagine that the snowball is blurry because it's about to hit you. I'm starting my campaign now for anyone who wants to come with me next time: come with me to Norway so I can throw snow at you. (No, really, come with me because it's totally fun and round-trip airfare is less than $500 in February. And the ski-dance week would be more fun with you.)