Siri in Lofoten

Sunday, September 17 It is raining hard when we wake up, and puffy clouds are hanging low on the mountains.   The square below is wet and empty. The hotel restaurant, however, is warm and bustling with Sunday brunch guests moving through an impressive array of options, catering to meat-eaters and vegans alike. A waif-like child-woman is playing the piano and I ask the server how old she is. "Oh, she's old," she says. "More than 20." Dodging the rain we skip around the corner to the Svolvær Krigsminnemuseet – the World War II Memorial Museum – several rooms filled with uniforms, photos, and war memorabilia, which tell the stories of acts of courage and terrible loss of life during the intense battles, which took place in this region. By 1944 the Germans had 370.000 soldiers here. There is even an enigma machine, captured in Lofoten by the British during a raid in 1941 and also the headgear from a concentration camp. The museum has an incrediby st...

Saturday, September 16 We wake up to a view of the distant mountains glistening green in the sun across the sea. We hurry down to the cozy dining room, where the chairs are lined with long-haired sheepskins, and sample the many delicacies Before we leave, we want to explore the area on the other side of the bridge, we went over yesterday. The paved road ends there, but there's a track, which is supposed to have been created by the sporty and very popular Norwegian queen - a 7-8 hour hike, which leads to the small fishing village of Stø. We hadn't noticed the road-sign, which indicates 11238 km to Rio, standing there between the track and the bridge. We're skirting a bay on our left, when I think I see a smooth round head in the water. Oswaldo doesn't see it and we continue to the next glorious bay - like a more magnificent version of Paquetá in Angra On our way back we  both hear the bark of what sounds like a seal or sea lion, and now we want to fin...

Friday, September 15 We wake up to a sunny morning at the Kysthotell and join other travelers for the traditional rich Norwegian breakfast, which features several types of herring, coldcuts, eggs, cheeses, yogurts, and jams. Long loaves of bread are held in cloths while one saws off great slices. We're used to a little yogurt and granola in the morning with coffee, maybe some fruit, but tuck in with gusto.  As a result, in a blur of what Victor might call a "madd carb fog" we take a drive arround the nearby Hadsel island, centered by impressive jagged mountains and bordered by long vistas of water and mountains shining in the sun from the neighboring islands. In the fields the sheep haven't bothered to get up yet. Yesterday we saw them lying down in the early evening. They must enjoy a long sleep in their cozy wool furs. We stop at a picnic area near a beach, where a woman is preparing breakfast outside a camper, accompanied by a watchful dog. He's cha...

Thursday Sept. 14 - afternoon and evening It has been my experience that you have to pay in advance for good things to happen to you. Thus it is today, after a remorseful SAS person lets us wait for our flight to Narvik in the comfort of the executive lounge. The subsequent flight is less than two hours, filled to the brim with other passengers stranded by the strike. As we begin our descent, we see the Lofoten Islands shimmering in the sunshine, and we know our luck has turned. We get a cool nail-polish-red Peugeot, with a registration plate that starts with ZA (for Zaffy 🐺) - another good sign, and we're off on our two hour drive to the Vesterålen Kysthotell. The sun is as strong as on Easter Island - if you happen to look at it directly, black spots dance behind your eyelids for a long time - and view after view compel us to stop and take photos, while huge trucks shudder by, way too close, on the two-line highway. We drive through Sortland, where my great-grandmoth...