setesdal nap

The first night in Kongsberg, after we'd checked into our comfy hotel (conveniently located right across the street from the train station) and had dinner there (ok, but after five days of the food genius on top of the hill, not really all that impressive), we all tromped over to the museum for a concert. It was in honor of some fiddler. These two guys were the featured performers:

The one on the right is remarkable because he's originally Swedish but now lives in Setesdal, a remote valley in southwestern Norway, where he speaks crazy Setesdal dialect (with Swedish accent), plays Setesdal music, performs in a Setesdal bunad (which is totally farmer clothes - overalls with a butt patch), and generally has made himself at home.

Truthfully, I slept through a lot of the concert. The night before was our last night at the hotel up on the hill, I was up til four, and I wasn't the last one to go to bed. We danced til about two, then you wouldn't want all that wood that had gone into heating the hot tub and sauna to go to waste. So everyone was kinda cranky Friday, and I took the occasion of the concert to doze off during every tune. I felt bad, but, you know, sometimes you just gotta nap.