Day Ten: Lofoten, Norway

 

Fishing village in Lofoten

First, I have to correct yesterday’s post.  Midnight sun means that for several months in summer, it never gets dark.  And then for several months in the winter it is always dark, which is called polar dark.  The midnight sun and polar dark periods last longer as you get closer to the North Pole.  So if you were considering moving here and suffer with SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), you might want to consider Florida instead.  

Our tour guide today was a young, blonde Norwegian girl named Matilde.  She had a fairly good command of English, but her sentences trailed off when she was searching for the proper English words.  I suppose it’s human nature to help finish another person’s sentences when she is struggling to come up with the right word.  Matilde would say something like, “We are now passing a place where we collect water for Lofoten, and people shouted “Reservoir!”  “Yes, that’s it,” Matilde said.  She was talking about a large painting on the side of a building, and people yelled, “Mural!”  “Yes, that’s right,” Matilde agreed.  She said, “That building across the loch is used to make power.”  The contestants, I mean bus riders, yelled, “Power Plant!”  It was like a two hour game show that required riding a bus to qualify.  

Doug says I don’t like people very much.  I say I’m just an introvert.   However, after about a week with only Doug’s company, I start up conversations with rank strangers.  Tonight, I talked to a couple from London.  They hate Theresa May, don’t understand why Americans talk so loud and don’t get Donald Trump.  I won’t delve into either British or American politics, but they are right about one thing:  Americans are so freaking loud!   Why is that, I wonder?

As you many of you know, I am a world class eavesdropper.  Last night at dinner, I swear the woman at the next table asked the waiter at least fifty questions about various types of white wine.  She wanted to know where the grapes were grown, how long the wine was aged,  if it was corked, if it was fermented in steel or oak, exactly what was in the blend, ad nauseam.  And you know what she finally chose after all of the fanfare?  The house wine.  Apparently, she just wanted to show off her vast, comprehensive knowledge about good wine, and then actually order the swill.

Tomorrow we go somewhere else on the Norway Coast.  I’m too lazy to look up the spelling of the place again.  It has a lot of consonants and an umlaut if that helps.  

 

At the Beach

 

Back to the Ship; the top right picture is of a fish drying rackI asked for permission to take this.  It was totally embarrassing and something I’m not apt to repeat.  Actually, her style is kind of growing on me.