Bergen

After Oslo, Bergen was a breath of fresh air: the sun was out, and the blue sky, green treas and pastel-coloured houses combined to make a very clear cartoony idyllic picture of a human-sized town.
The other thing I must mention is that, after the austerity of Muslim Morocco, I felt like I had reached the Martyr's paradise - here were svelte Norwegian girls sashaying about town and lounging in pure cornucopia. As one fellow traveller put it:
"[In Bergen] we didn't actually do much

just walked around and checked out hot mommas".

We also checked into our central YMCA Youth Hostel. Over the day and a half, the nearby Tourist Office (housed in Fresco Hall) was helpful for planning things to do.

An 'oasen' indeed.

Fresco Hall: Bergen's Tourist Office.

Hostel room.

The neaby tourist market sold all manner of things derived from moose and foxes.
Day 1
Walked along the harbour past the picturesque facade of Bryggen (a UNESCO World Heritage-listed set of beautifully crafted and painted buildings) to Rosenkrantztarnet, part of the Bergenhus Castle before climbing Mount Floyen. At the top, we had a beer and a chat.

Norwegian junk.

The funiculaire that takes one up to the mountaintop.

We decided to hike instead.

The 'Anh Dung' Pose.

That evening, on the hostel balcony and afterwards as we strolled through town, we enjoyed an extended sunset that just would not go away, courtesy of the Arctic summer.

To this day, I still do not understand how Manly made that face.

Watercolour of the harbour

Day 2
The next morning, we stopped by at the famous fish market for some whale steak, then just missed the Brass Band which plays on Torgallmenningen - Bergen's main town square/promenade.

Manly's 'This is the shit' face

The Scandinavians are so rich, they need to create sculptures of homeless people.

We visited the Bergen Sjofartsmuseum (Maritime Museum), which was free and detailed Norway's proud maritime tradition.

The view...

Walked past the Leprosy museum/medical faculty gardens and then some picturesque neighbourhoods.













Then it happened: we lost John.

I decided to go ahead and "look for John", while Tus and Manly stayed back at the place we last saw him. "Looking for John", I made a beeline for the Brass band and managed to see quite a bit of their repertoire, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

Then it was back to the fish market for lunch.



Then we ourselves attempted to lounge around on the grass, as those svelte Norwegians have proved themselves to be quite adept at doing. We tried it in front of the Lille Lungegårdsvannet, then we tried it in several alternate locations in front of an Edvard Grieg statue.



Slowly we come, as no doubt the reader has, to the realisation that there really is not much to engage one's attention/interest in Bergen unless one lived there or had a purpose to the visit.

John requires special attention, such as spoon-fed validation.

Then there was a final pasta dinner cooked by Tus in the hostel kitchen and some card games before I left Bergen by overnight bus to Oslo so as to catch my flight the next day, leaving those three crazy chaps to who knows what they will do.

No John, you can't eat that. Have some pasta instead.

In fact, they stayed behind another night in the hostel's basement hallroom, before returning to Oslo the next day by train.