I read on someone’s blog that it was the Queen of Norway’s birthday recently.
I was sitting at table full of people and brought it up. “I hear it’s the Queen’s birthday today!” I said. “No, wasn’t that yesterday?” They asked. “No, I read it was July 4.” “But, it’s July 3rd, we celebrated it yesterday,” they replied. This went on for awhile. “But I thought she was turning 70, or 80 or something…Wait, who are you talking about??”
“Sascha, the concierge.. who were YOU talking about?” Um, the Queen of Norway.. Well, happy birthday, to both Queens.
The big tour here is a train ride up and down the mountain. Which I was excited to do, with my bike as we did before, and ride down. If I had a great day somewhere, I am always tempted to go back and do exactly the same thing. Is that wise? Can you ever re-create the same amazing day? Or should you just start a new day. Well, Roque decided that for me, when he accompanied me on bicycle and saw the ticket price for the train.
I wonder what would have happened if I had known the exchange rate when I got on the bus the other day. But I had already done the train ride, and although I would have loved to get some new pictures of the Red Lady, it was time for a new adventure in Flam.
Luckily for me, the Red Lady wasn’t even spotted this year.
Here are some photos of her from 2 years earlier. Her apparition at the waterfall where the train stops was one of the most wonderful things I had ever seen. There must have been two people dressed in red, because she seemed to flit around the waterfall like the spirit she was supposed to be. (The waterfall has a legend of a red lady spirit – I am not sure of the details)
Accompanied by music, the scene is surreal.
Me and Roque got on our bikes and rode up the mountain.
All to support my new Norwegian ice cream habit. I was choked. I put the coins in a very safe place and went straight to the ship, muttering something about not spending any money here, better be pure gold, blah blah blah.
I took a nap, and set the alarm just in case I felt like an ice cream before we sailed away.
It was rough waking up, but I was determined. I thought: Astrid, (another blogger and Norwegian expat) is all the way in the south of France and would kill for a real Norwegian ice cream. I’d better wake up, and go outside and eat one.
The sail away, and the rest of the evening through the heart of Fjordland was beautiful.