All good things must come to an end

Wednesday, September 20

We have a ferry departure at 7am and are up at the crack of dawn, getting ready, having coffee, and looking at the beautiful view one last time, where the rising sun is a fiery orange line glowing on the dark blue horizon.

By the time we reach the harbor, well in advance of our departure, we find several cars, buses, and caravans waiting in line already. 

Nervous about the crossing, which reportedly can be really rocky, I swallow a Dramamine. The sea is flat, however, and I go to sleep, curled up in my seat, while Oswaldo goes outside and takes a last look at the rocky silhouette of the islands.

After three hours we’re ready to dock in Bodø, all passengers waiting in their vehicles. We're next to a converted school bus called Adventure Hostel On Wheels, which looks more intriguing than the other huge tour buses

Bodø is a small hillside city bathed in a pale bright light from the sun and the sea. We figure out how to use the parking meter, fumbling with the coins in the stiff breeze, then take a walk uphill closing our many layers of clothing against the chilly wind.

Until, at the top, we see the church tower, which is the symbol of the town.

On our way down to the car we stop at a booth displaying piles of hats with Brazilian flags and hung with hammocks, attended by a big tanned guy with blue eyes and blond hair dressed in shorts. Turns out he’s British, but lives most of the year in the interior of Pernambuco , “Caatinga, mesmo,” he says in perfect nordestino Portuguese, squinting his eyes agaist the sun.

We have time to see the Norwegian Aviation Museum near the airport, which has an impressive collection of military and civilian planes, a  Spitfire amongst them.

The stories from WWII are so moving – about the young Norwegians who fled to Canada and regrouped in 'Little Norway' - a secret Royal Norwegian Air Force training camp in Southern Ontario. To relieve their stress and isolation the young men amused themselves with a pet bear

along with  a German Shepherd and a little goat, all of which are there, next to a replica of their lodging

Impressed with the dramatic stories of their struggles to reach the camp, the captain's secretary, whose job it was to receive the young fighters, a had them all sign a cloth in pencil. Throughout the war she embroidered the tablecloth without telling anyone, name after young name, so that their bravery would not be forgotten.

When I comment to a local bookseller of the palpable intensity around these war memorials, she says, "You don't read much about this in the history books, but the war was fought here in the north. The rest of the country lived the occupation and its consequences."

We leave Bodø for Trondheim on another packed flight – Norwegians seem to travel a lot. Turns out the airport is quite far from the town and so we board our first Norwegian bus - very comfortable, with wifi and a personable driver. He sets us down very close to our hotel, which is a converted bakery in the middle of the historical part. We drop our bags and, having asked the advice of a young person at the reception, go for a lovely walk along the Nid river, full of all kinds of boats at anchor

We cross the Flower Bridge

and walk past several attractive restaurants lined up on 'Solsiden' - the sunny side of the street - filled with lively diners in search of San Sebastian, the restaurant she recommended.  A little tired after a long day we settle down with a well-deserved Sauvignon Blanc and share several delicious tapas

 ending with a fabulous Crema Catalana

 Then we walk back in the waning light