On my first afternoon in Norway, jet-lagged and half asleep, I sat by the window of my room in Hotel Utsikten and stared. Geirangerfjord lay before me shrouded in white mist, the water completely covered by a thick white blanket of clouds. I barely distinguished the contours of mountain rocks, and the mountain peaks were lost in a milky sky. Only the green tree line bordering the main route that passed right by my window, and groups of evergreens to the left and to the right retained their unaltered form. The shorelines on each side of the fjord curved toward blurry destinations before melting altogether into the opal diaphanous veils of mist. One unusual veil flowed over the mountain wall on the right sweetening its rocky hardness in rolling puffs like a bridal veil surprised from underneath by a gentle wind.
What color was the water of the fjord? I wondered. What ships or boats were just now arriving into Geiranger port mysteriously, hidden from my prying eyes staring from an altitude of about 1,000 feet above sea level where Utsikten Hotel reigned, white, with a brownish-red roof and flowers on its fjord-facing balconies. This was a dwelling from where you were supposed to see everything happening down on the fjord waters, and yet the whimsical weather gods of Norway had invited all port activities to snuggle under their white cloud blanket, leaving those in the heights to deal with the mystery of what was happening by the water and on the water.
Mist over Geirangerfjord
Mystery seemed embedded in the very makeup of Geirangerfjord. Even on brilliantly clear days, which I would come to experience for six days in a row, there was always that alluring bend, as I looked away from the port, the wide body of water curving gently to the left until I could no longer see what was beyond it. Anything could suddenly appear from around that bend: a cruise ship, a ferry, a boat, a kayak, a Norse god, a troll, a wizard. You never knew who or what was going to arrive, just as you never knew when the sky would glow in an intense, almost unbearable blue or wrap itself into a ferment of clouds to offer rain or bridal veils again.
The Seven Sisters Waterfall
But as the mist cleared and I explored, I learned that the fjord water is deep blue or green or metallic gray depending on proximity to it, on the light, or on whether sky or forest is reflecting into it. Waterfalls on both sides of its mountains plunge into it playfully, wistfully, or in the case of the famous Seven Sisters waterfall, like caressing opalescent scarves flowing over rocks. This is a charmed domain where sweet water meets salt water at every turn. As an inlet of the ocean, Geirangerfjord’s water is salty, a natural extension of the ocean. The fjord was formed when ancient glaciers carved deep valleys that were then flooded with seawater when the glaciers retreated. Countless rivers and waterfalls infuse the fjord with fresh water and, while the surface layer is a sweet-and-salty cocktail, in its depth, the ocean’s salty currents still take precedence. Whiffs of sea spray and algae mingle with the honied fragrance of wildflowers and fresh forest scents. From Scots Pine to birches to shrubby gray alders and hawthorn bushes, from the hidden mossy paths that lead you above the tree line to glorious views of snow-capped peaks—paths singing with rivulets and snaking through farms where sheep and goats graze lazily and stare at you with indulgence—to aromatic apple orchards in the valley, the union of scents dances together on wings of crisp fresh air. It is a most alluring marriage of sea and mountain. It is actually a sea whose water flows into the fjord: the Norwegian Sea, a marginal sea of the Arctic Ocean along the Northwestern part of Norway between the Greenland and the North Seas.
I had never been to Scandinavia before. The closest I’ve come to it culturally has been through the plays of Ibsen and Strindberg, and the music of Edvard Grieg, Norway’s iconic composer. Grieg’s music especially, in its superb outpourings of longing and nostalgic heart-tugs even in its livelier moments, always painted for me a picture of an enthralling, mystical land, a land of abundant nature, challenging beauty, spellbinding mists, and meditative solitude, where one could face the profoundest questions of existence while also acknowledging the magic woven inside those mists, shimmering within the sun’s oblique light. Scandinavia had been calling me for a while, and it was time to decide where to begin the encounter and how much to see.
Yet, lately, I’ve developed a penchant for a less typical touristy travel. When traveling to a new location, I used to fit as many attractions into my itinerary as possible, spinning in a whirlwind of grasping at everything in a short time. But now, with a new country or region, I love to pick one place and dwell there for my entire vacation. I grant myself time to linger, whether on the chosen destination’s streets, in its natural surroundings, in its cafés, even if I live the same routine from breakfast to dinner a few days in a row. The repetition and the time to contemplate give me the gift of absorbing everything at a deeper level: the air, the light, the music of the language, the scents, the energy, the tastes, and obscured dimensions of all these aspects that, in other places, I may have run by in the sightseeing race. Lingering in one place is what I did with Norway.
There is much to see in this breathtaking country known for its stunning natural landscapes and abundant inducements to outdoor activities. There is a rich Viking history displayed in museums, and there are cities like its capital, Oslo, and Bergen where you can visit Edvard Grieg’s villa and museum at Troldhaugen. But I had always felt the longing to see a fjord, and out of Norway’s more than a thousand named fjords, I chose what many believe to be the most beautiful: Geirangerfjord, one of two Norwegian fjords recognized as UNESCO world heritage sites. I decided that the village of Geiranger, home to 248 Norwegians, would be my home too, for an entire week, and that the first thing I would see every morning when getting out of bed would be the fjord.
Utsikten Hotel room with fjord view
So, I discovered Hotel Utsikten—Utsikten means “the view” in both Norwegian and Swedish. Constructed in 1893, Utsikten is considered one of Norway’s iconic hotels. Europe’s royalty and explorers had braved the road uphill to this abode, a road that had been built by hand for all to fall in love as much with the view as with the hotel’s charm. At only 29 rooms, each with a distinctive character, lodging here becomes a deeply personal experience. My room had hardwood floors, woven rugs, metallic gray-blue wallpaper with a delicate white flower pattern, and black-and-white historic photos of famous visitors. There was the King of Siam, proud of having scaled the fjord heights, there was Kaiser Wilhelm relaxing on a rock, there a former king and queen of Norway, and in another, the current king and queen greeted by Geiranger kids with flowers, years ago. As soon as I walked in, I had the sensation of stepping into a historical novel or Ibsen-play set or an opera staging evoking the 19th century, except, of course, for the flat-screen TV, coffee machine, modern heaters, and state-of-the-art bathroom. Add to it all the warm and hospitable receptionists and staff, and I felt like I returned to a home I never knew I had.
Hotel Utsikten
Utsikten hotel is close to the famous Flydalsjuvet viewpoint toward which climb buses filled with international tourists mainly brought into Geiranger by the cruise ships. Bus drivers perform extraordinarily strategic maneuvers around the road’s hairpin turns every day, several times a day. These buses, along with cars and RVs pass right by the fjord-facing hotel windows. While, at first, the traffic feels disconcerting, eventually, the movement blends into the overall ambience, typically subsiding in the late afternoon and settling into a majestic silence. You can easily walk some 330 feet uphill to the viewpoint, and if you catch the lulls between the bus loads of tourists, you can have it all to yourself, or only with a few other people around. The hotel offers its own viewpoint; all you need to do is walk outside and cross the road to the viewing platform. In fact, all you really need to do is look out the window of your own room or of the two halls of the restaurant.
In one hall, restaurant Utsikten offers a lavish complimentary breakfast, where the bread is addictive and the array of hams and cheeses along scrambled eggs, waffles, salmon, and many other treats make for a delightfully satisfying morning accompanied by the enticing fjord view. Lunch and dinner are served in the other, more elegant hall, and the charming, international waiters working here for the summer season, pamper you with attention. The menu choices are limited because most guests stay for only one or two nights, a brief halt before they move on to other Norwegian wonders.
Local salmon in Restaurant Utsikten
The rare guest who spends one week at Utsikten, like me, has time to sample almost everything on the menu. The portions are enormous, as one waiter explained: “Our chef is Austrian, and he wants you to get your money’s worth.” He must view portions in terms of the hugely sized Wienerschnitzel in Vienna, I thought. Each meal always starts with the presentation of two squares of butter made on premises, one with garlic, one with seaweed, and that exceptionally tasty bread. So, before you even have the chance to get to the appetizer, you’ve almost filled up on the irresistible seaweed/garlic butter-and-bread combination. The cuisine reigns impressive: from the rich, intense red-wine deer ragout with sweet lingonberry compote to the crisply crusted salmon fresh from the fjord waters to the silky pickled herring, and creamy leek-and-potato soup. It seems like there will hardly be room for dessert.
Brunost (Norwegian brown cheese) over waffles in Restaurant Utsikten
Nevertheless, the desserts are an absolute must, especially the Norwegian specialty Brunost—caramel-flavored brown cheese—on waffles with cream and fresh fruit. Norwegian brown cheese is made by boiling milk whey and milk or cream until the lactose sugars caramelize, which creates the brown color and sweet taste. It can come from pure goat milk or a mix of goat and cow milk. A variety of international wines is also on the menu, with recommendations for each course. But if you don’t drink, even the tap water is tasty. There is no need to load up on purchased water bottles here as you can drink directly from the faucet.
And then there are their marvelous, locally made berry syrups, blueberry and raspberry; after the first two complimentary bottles in the room, I could not resist buying a bottle every day. Berries are among Norway’s many treasures, known for their deliciousness, thanks to summer’s long daylight hours and climate. Close to the hotel, you can take one hiking path or another or simply walk into the woods and forage for berries. Aside from the usual raspberries and strawberries, there are cloudberries often called “Arctic gold” and lingonberries as well as wild blueberries that are smaller and more intensely flavored.
On the shortcut from Hotel Utsikten to Geiranger center, a typical Norwegian sod or turf roof
While you could spend hours in the hotel room contemplating the view or the room itself, or just being, there comes the time when you embark on the trip downhill to the Geiranger village center. You can always ask the receptionist to call you one of two taxis operating in Geiranger, but when the big cruise ships are in town, patience is key. Or, as I was told enthusiastically, you can take the shortcut. There is an app called Mapy that will direct you to where to get off the main route. Piece of cake, I thought as I practically skipped downhill on the road and got to the first house where I was supposed to turn left on a grassy path.
The steps down the Storfossen Waterfall walk
That was where the adventure began. The shortcut to the village center is filled with twists and turns through meadows and woods between houses with sod or turf roofs, and camping sites. A bubbling river escorts you, and in places, you either have to scramble your way down stone steps or trudge through a bit of mud. Thus, my hiking days began counterintuitively with that downward hike toward the village that brought me to the Fjord Center and museum right across from another coveted lodging, Hotel Union. I ended the surprising trek by going down the Waterfall Walk—327 metal steps alongside the spectacular Storfossen waterfall—and finally arrived by the port. From there, a short walk took me into the village center, primarily formed of a pedestrian street with boutiques and restaurants.
Geiranger Sjokolade store and café
Geiranger village does get crowded when cruise ships are in, but at times, you can catch a pause in crowd activity and retreat into the Geiranger Sjokolade store and café where they make their own chocolate with fillings like Brunost, cloudberry, chili, ginger and gin, and all kinds of imaginative combinations. One of my favorite pastimes in the village was sitting in the back of the Sjokolade café on a wood bench by the fjord water and sampling various small chocolates alongside a raspberry lemonade. By the harbor, I found the Brasserie Posten located in the old post office building, where I had their wonderful Platina burger, the rainbow trout burger with chili and cheddar, served with guacamole and mango salsa. In the pedestrian zone, there was the Olebuda restaurant where their Skagen toast of shrimp with freshwater crayfish, sour cream, mayo, lemon, dill and salad proved a feast for the senses. Or to keep it very simple—and cost effective—a stop by a kind of a hole-in-the-wall with the word Fiskekaka on its sign was always worth it for their delicious, filling fishcakes.
Inside Geiranger Art Gallery
In Geiranger village, tourist stores abound. There’s a Viking shop, there’s even a Christmas shop with tree decorations, reindeers, Santas, trolls adorned in holiday attire, and there’s Røst, a fine boutique that offers handmade sweaters in gorgeous colors, candles with scents of the fjords and many other delightful gifts. A visit to the art gallery is a special experience; you can meet the artist Ola Liland whose colorful paintings and graphics enrapture the eyes throughout the three floors of an ancient house, a former school, that also holds arts and crafts from other Western Norway artists. The locals are sweet-natured and when they speak, it’s as though they sing. It’s not a singing sound like in Italian—loud, passionate, operatic. Rather, the musical, trilling colors of their language seem laden with soft question marks, and those colors transfer into their masterful English. Everyone—from ferryboat captains to taxi drivers to boutique sellers—speaks English beautifully. And as I learned, all Norwegians who respect themselves, own huts away from cities or towns or even villages to which they retreat from time to time to be as close to nature as possible. They call it hytte-liv—hut living—which is intrinsic to Norwegian identity, rooted in friluftsliv, free-air life: spending time outdoors and connecting with nature.
Storseten Waterfall
And the friluftsliv lure is undeniable: every hour in Geiranger presents an open invitation to hike or wander in nature. Whether from the village center or from the surroundings of Hotel Utsikten, trails can be found everywhere, leading to various altitudes where it’s not just the view of the fjord that astounds, but of the surrounding mountains as well. A special trail is the one to the Storseter Waterfall—Storseterfossen. A hundred feet or so below Hotel Utsikten, you walk up a gravelly road toward a farm and then embark on the stony hike. The trail curves through pastures and through the woods, and you hear the waterfall sing, but just when you think you found it, there’s yet another curve in the path and more hiking. And then some more. At the end of the trail, the reward is tremendous. Not only do you see the waterfall in its magnificence, but there is also a hidden route that takes you behind it. Holding on to rails, you can descend to a rocky alcove and find yourself behind that effervescent curtain of water that flings delicate drops on your face and body in greeting. I did this hike in the early morning, before the tourists came, and spent half an hour behind Storseter Waterfall without any intruders. In awe, I sang to it—a few songs, including “Solveig’s Song” from Grieg’s Peer Gynt in my best and only attempt at Norwegian lyrics.
Lake Djupvatnet on Mount Dalsnibba
If you don’t want long hikes, buses can take you to the higher peaks, like the panoramic tour to Dalsnibba Mountain at 4,843 feet. Sitting in front by the driver, swerving left and right on hair-raising turns driving upwards into a blue sky is an experience not for the faint of heart. But when you arrive at the top and step on the Geiranger Skywalk through whose grill floor you can glimpse a rocky abyss below, when you glance at the fjord and the 360° panorama, when you actually touch August snow and gaze upon Lake Djupvatnet—which means deep lake—perfectly still and glossy like a dark blue mirror, the feeling is otherworldly.
On the fjord, between depth and height
It is not just from rocky heights that the fjord fascinates. You can embark on a ferry for a one-and-a-half-hour cruise that takes you to the famed fine-particled Seven Sisters Waterfall and the Suitor Waterfall right across, wooing the Seven Sisters. The fjord water mesmerizes in green and blue, yellow kayaks pass by at a respectable distance, and so do other ferries with tourists waving, all of us navigators cradled between mountainous inclines, gliding on this blue-green membrane between a watery abyss almost 900 feet deep and peaks reaching as high as 5,580 feet. I can’t help but think of our suspended state bordered by depth and height, saltwater and fresh waterfalls between them, and above it all, a pristine sky.
At the Hotel Union spa
If the constant hiking, be it a trail or the back-and-forth shortcut from Hotel Utsikten, gets to your leg muscles, Union Hotel across from the Fjord Center has the perfect remedy. Its lavish spa offers pools, massages, facials, and a fifteen-minute sauna ritual led by someone with a soothing voice who pours lemongrass and sandalwood essential oils on hot coals and then, during a five-minute break between fragrances, asks you to walk barefoot through an area filled with stones and water maintained at the crisp fjord water temperature. The hot tub is larger than any hot tub I have ever seen; one of its walls produces bubbles and the rest is still. Simply being there outdoors, immersed in the hot water, in full view of mountain peaks, is enough to soothe any form of exhaustion. Meanwhile, the Turkish bath ritual has you enter the replica of an actual Turkish bath that makes you feel like a Sultan. As you lie on a marble-like, enormous, warm slab of gleaming stone, someone scrubs you with an exfoliating glove after which she places huge bubbles of foam on your body, and as the foam deflates and subsides, it tickles your skin in the subtlest, most delicate sensations. Warm water is thrown over you in waves or tiny rivulets, there’s more massaging with liquid soap, and the experience ends with your hair being washed with a tantalizingly perfumed shampoo and conditioner that leave your tresses silky for days. The Union Hotel has its own appeal, and its location makes it a popular tourist selection. I enjoyed just visiting it, especially the spa, yet always returning to my eagle’s view nest at Utsikten.
Sunset over Ålesund
The last ferry ride I embarked on was a three-hour cruise to Ålesund, one of Norway’s most beautiful cities, famous for its Art Nouveau architecture, where I only had a couple of hours to climb to its well-known viewpoint on Mount Aksla and take in the superb views before boarding my flight to Oslo. And in Oslo I was left with one swift morning before my flight to NYC, so I went straight to their stunning opera house, a modern architectural marvel completed in 2007.
The “me” of years ago would have regretted not packing as much of Ålesund and Oslo sightseeing into this trip as I possibly could, and maybe other sites—all of which would have shortened my stay in Geiranger significantly. But the “me” of today relishes profound connections with a place. It’s like falling in love; you long to explore every detail of the loved one, you want repetition, you wish to linger forever in their presence. If it’s love at first sight, as it was for me with Geirangerfjord, inevitable and unpractical daydreams arise, making you envision staying there forever, on the mountain, on the sea, above the fjord, by the fjord, on the fjord. And even though I promised myself I would return, parting with Geirangerfjord was one of my hardest goodbyes.
All photos by Maria-Cristina Necula
Top photo: Geirangerfjord
