Back To Ireland

TO ALL

(Note: This travelogue is chronologically out of order. The trip it recounts actually took place prior that of "Icebound in Norway.")

Deanna and I spent 10 days in Ireland in July of 2005 on a Brendan tour with friends from Loveland, Colorado (see my blog entitled “Ireland”). With the exception of a few destinations close to home, we haven’t been going back to places in Europe a second time. However, after my first visit to Ireland, I was fairly sure that this was a place to which I would return. (1) Mike wasn’t with me on that earlier trip at all and (2) I didn’t get to Northern Ireland. There are several really interesting sites in Northern Ireland and it is, in fact, a fairly safe place to visit these days. Having a friend (Marion) who is half German
and half Irish-American, who likes to travel, and who particularly loves Ireland helped move that thought on to reality. In fact, it appears that not having any kids at home and having a friend with lots of vacation time available could be a dangerous thing! What started out in my brain as a 4 day weekend in Northern Ireland somehow turned into a 10 day trip, the last few days of which we spent in Northern Ireland. The Friday before Thanksgiving weekend, Marion and I flew to Kerry, rented a car and spent 7 days exploring some places in the Republic of Ireland that I had missed on my earlier trip. Then, on the evening of Thanksgiving Day we picked Mike up at the Dublin airport and headed for Northern Ireland.

I’m not the most stellar driver in the world and I had some misgivings about the wisdom of attempting to drive on the left side of the road. The problem isn’t just driving on the left. It’s more complicated. Driving on the left also means sitting on the right side of the car, shifting gears with your left hand (most European cars are standard transmission) and going through roundabouts clockwise. All that added together is quite a load on one’s brain. Fortunately the clutch IS still on the left and the brake on the right. If they reversed that it would be all over! Still, for the first day or two, echoes of Rick Hester saying “driving on the left for 3 weeks is not my idea of a vacation” reverberated through my head continually. Eventually it did get better. Two things worked in my favor: (1) traffic was minimal. It was off-season, plus we started out in Kerry which is in western Ireland, out in the boonies, and we stayed out in the boonies for several days until I got the hang of things a little and (2) although Marion doesn’t drive and she gets car sick if she tries to read a map while in motion, she is still a great sidekick. She did a wonderful job of not chatting with me when I needed to be concentrating on driving, of spotting the important signs, and of saying “left” when she sensed that I might be headed for the wrong side of the road. She will be quick to tell you however, that, just as sitting on the right to drive takes some getting used to, so does riding on the left.

There are signs all over the place in Ireland saying “drive left” (on the dashboard of rental cars, as you leave airports, as you exit the parking lots of tourist attractions, etc, etc). I’m not sure if that’s comforting or scary. On the one hand it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one out there who is struggling with this crazy way of driving. On the other hand it’s terrifying to think that even if I get it right, there could be, just around any given corner, someone who is not getting it right and is poised to run head on into me. Probably it’s best just not to think about such things. Ironically the “Warning: drive left” sign on our rental car was in English and German – but not French – although France is closer to Ireland than Germany. Hmmmm.

After a couple days on the road, I started noticing a strange disorder that I will call “driver’s dyslexia.” I repeatedly found myself looking at a sign indicating that our desired destination was to the left, but thinking (or telling Marion) “we need to turn right,” . . . . . . and then turning to the left just like the sign said. Okay. Apparently my brain was determined to maintain some continuity with the “old” way of driving. Hence it decided to continue labeling all turns that required yielding to oncoming traffic “left turns,” and all turns that did not involve oncoming traffic “right turns.” Go figure. After 2 or 3 totally confusing discussions with Marion about which way I needed to turn, Marion resorted to saying “my side” and “your side” when discussing upcoming turns. Smart lady.

The longer I spent in Europe, the more I like roundabouts (though I don’t like the two and three lane varieties – I don’t get exactly how those are supposed to work). Roundabouts are really convenient when you’re not exactly sure where you’re going. You can just keeping going around and around and read all the signs as you go until you figure out which “exit” is the one you want (maybe that’s why some of them have 2 lanes – the inside lane is for people who are lost!). Also when you find yourself going in the wrong direction, roundabouts make doing a U-turn really simple. Plus, for the most part, I think they do keep traffic moving more smoothly. Of course then in Dublin, for example, they have roundabouts with traffic lights on them. What’s the deal with that?

As in Norway’s fjord country, almost all of the roads in Ireland are two lanes. Except right around Dublin, there is no such thing as an autobahn or a freeway in Ireland. In western Ireland the roads are not only two lanes, but they are very narrow and there is often a wall of vegetation within inches of the dotted line marking the edge of the road. It strikes me that “road maintenance” in Ireland is at least as much about vegetation control as it is about road surface repair. Also, a lot of two-way roads don’t have a center stripe and there isn’t necessarily room to pass on-coming traffic just anywhere the need happens to occur. Rick Steves says that thinking in terms of “my space” and “your space” isn’t always very practical. Rather, the road is “our space” and we have to learn to share. Right.

Enough about driving, but one more logistical note before I go on to the sights themselves: we’ve discovered before that the disadvantage of sight-seeing in the winter isn’t necessarily the weather. (As the old saying goes, “There is no bad weather, just inappropriate clothing.”) The disadvantage of sightseeing in the winter is that there is so little daylight in which to see the sights. When it’s not really light until 8:00 in the morning and it’s pitch dark by 4:30 you literally have half as many daylight hours as you would in the summer when the sun is up by 5:30 and doesn’t go down until 10:00. Of course you do save some time in the winter in that you rarely have to stand in admission lines or sit in staus (German for traffic jams). And . . . the darkness isn’t totally wasted time: there are things like bar-hopping that can be done even in the dark. (You read that right. I did say bar-hopping.) But still . . . . dollar for dollar you don’t get as much bang for your buck in the winter as you do in the summer.

Now that I have all that negativism out of my system, here are some of the highlights of this latest trip to Ireland.

In general, many of the things that I like best about Ireland
are the same summer or winter.

For example:

(1) The 40 shades of green and the patchwork effect of the fields.

In eastern Ireland the patches are "stitched together" by hedges,

in western Ireland by rock walls.

(Sometimes the rock walls are overgrown with vegetation in which case the cows have been known to put their forelegs up on the walls and stare at all the passersby as they munch on the vegetation. Wish I had a picture of this!)

(2) The rainbows (Hawaii move over on this one),

(3) The sheep – supposedly there are more sheep than people in Ireland. Marion’s stated goal for this trip was to see all the sheep. (Read: neither one of us were interested in spending time in cities or museums. Outdoor stuff only, thank-you.)

(4) The spacious views. In Colorado you can see forever, but it’s not green. In Kentucky (for example) it’s green but you can’t see beyond the nose on your face. Somehow in Ireland you can see forever AND it’s green. I like that combination.

(5) Spectacular cliffs and rugged coastlines,

(5) Scenic beaches,

(6) Remains of old stone structures

(7) and old graveyards strewn everywhere.

So, here are the specific locations
where we reveled in those wonderful Irish phenomena:

(1) The Dingle Peninsula. Dingle is on the western coast of Ireland, just north of the Kerry peninsula (which I visited on the last trip). The scenery is similar to the Ring of Kerry, but more rugged and less touristy. We spent several days here and it was spectacular. It was also windy pretty much the whole time we were there (“gale force” winds one day according to the radio). What varied from day to day and hour to hour was the amount of blue sky and/or rain. One day it rained so hard we had to abandon both Plan A (taking pictures from the top of Connor Pass) and Plan B (souvenir shopping in Tralee) and resort to holing up in our B & B for the afternoon. When Nancy is forced to give up both taking pictures and souvenir shopping, you know that the weather is REALLY bad. Fortunately the day we took the Slea Head Drive around the end of the peninsula we had several hours of sunshine and no rain. It was fabulous – gobsmacking is, I believe, the appropriate Irish superlative.

(2) Kilkenny Castle and the Rock of Cashel. These are within 45 minutes of each other in south central Ireland. The Rock of Cashel rises dramatically out of the Plain of Tipperary (as in the song “It’s A Long Way To Tipperary” which is a WWI love song). There is a castle and a cathedral on the Rock of Cashel.

It is also the spot where St. Patrick baptized King Aengus in 450 AD and established Christianity as the religion of Ireland. And . . . there are lots of Irish crosses among the gravestones on the Rock of Cashel which reminds me of a new soap box that I have acquired as a result of this last trip to Ireland: the Irish cross may be “picturesque” but it is also an illustration of something very unhealthy in the history of the church. The ring around the intersection of the two arms of the cross is a symbol of the sun and was added specifically to make Christianity more appealing to the Celts who were originally sun-worshippers. It strikes me that this is an AD version of what happened in the book of Judges (and throughout the OT) where the Israelites combined the worship of the true God with the worship practices of the Canaanites whom they failed to drive out of the land. In both cases the result of all those “little” compromises (Irish crosses, idols, whatever) was apostasy within the church (or Israel) to the point where one can only marvel that God was able to keep the true faith from being totally extinguished. End of soap box.

(3) Winslow Mountains. These are about a 2 hour drive from Dublin but are as desolate and otherworldly (though not as flat) as the Badlands of South Dakota. Yet . . . .if I ever get back to Ireland, I want to spend more time here. Much of Ireland is green even in the winter, but not the Winslow Mountains.

Also, there are no sheep. But still there are rainbows and spacious views. And the terrain is fascinating. A lot of the land is peat bog from which the Irish cut peat bricks to use for heating their homes. Amy would not be impressed – the land has clearly been violated.

(4) Derry -- or Londonderry depending on your political views. Apparently those who would like to see Northern Ireland become part of the Republic of Ireland again (the IRA – think green) find the name “Londonderry” offensive because of its British overtones. Any signs with the name “Londonderry” on them typically have the “London” part graffiti-ed out. Regardless of the name, this is the birthplace of the tune “Danny Boy” or “Irish Tune from County Derry.” Derry is a predominantly Catholic city (in a protestant controlled country) and that together with it’s proximity to the Northern Ireland / Republic of Ireland border has made it the scene of a lot conflict over the last few decades. The old walls of the city are still intact and we walked them in their entirety, Rick Steve’s in one hand, camera in the other hand, dodging raindrops as necessary.

Had there been more daylight and less rain we would probably have spent some time also in Bogside (the Catholic district to the north and below the old walled area). As it was we had to be content to view the famous Bogside Murals from the city walls instead of closer up. Much of the housing in Bogside is abandoned military barracks leftover from WW II. There are about a dozen murals scattered throughout the area, each of them covering the entire end wall of a military barracks. They commemorate, from the Catholic point of view, the events of the modern “Troubles” in Ireland.

Although things have been pretty peaceful in Ireland for several years now, it’s hard to miss the huge British surveillance tower still in place on top of the wall peering down into the Bogside area. As I discovered on my first trip, traveling in Ireland doesn’t make one feel warm and fuzzy about the British.

Two other notes before I leave Northern Ireland. Most American Christians don’t seem to be aware that several of our currently most popular Praise and Worship songs come from a CD entitled “Revival in Belfast.” (for example: Days of Elijah, The Lion of Judah, Blessed Be Your Name, etc, etc) They are written by a guy named Robin Mark who is the worship leader at a church in Belfast called Christian Fellowship Church which happens to be where that CD was produced. A lot of Robin Mark's songs have a traditional Irish / Celtic flavor to them which is part of their appeal I think. What is neat is that, from everything I’ve observed so far, they seem to be theologically sound and have more “meat” to them then a lot of the other stuff that’s popular these days. Plus, if you listen to them in the light of the political situation in Ireland, you begin to realize that this guy is working for a cessation of hostilities in Ireland under the banner of there being one God over all (check out the words to Shout to the North). I really wanted to go to Belfast on this trip specifically to go to Robin Mark’s church and we were actually in Northern Ireland on a Sunday morning. Unfortunately we had limited time in Northern Ireland. There isn’t a lot else to see in Belfast and there were too many other must-see things to give up a whole day to pursue that whim. (You can see where my priorities are!!!! ) Anyway, that is another of my dreams: to go back to Ireland and be in Belfast on a Sunday and go to the Christian Fellowship Church.

Now this is REALLY trivia. When going from the Republic of Ireland to Northern Ireland (or vice versa), the only way that you know that you’ve crossed the border is a sign telling you that the speed limit signs are in kilometers (or in miles as the case may be). Most of you know that I have a collection of “welcome to” signs – one for each of the 50 states in the US plus some Canadian, Mexican, and Australian provinces. Since traveling in Europe, I started a new collection of European country signs. For various reasons, they are harder to find than the state signs in the US. I was hoping to get both the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland on this trip. But no luck. Argh!!! My theory is that the lack of signs at the border is, again, an IRA victory. It reinforces the idea of the island being all one country.

(5) County Donegal. This is, geographically speaking, in northern Ireland, but politically part of the Republic of Ireland. Pop musician Enya is from a little town in County Donegal. Donegal is remote and beautiful . . . . not many tour busses even in the summer, NONE in the winter . . . . . more shades of green and more rock walls, rainbows, sheep, peat bogs, spacious views, spectacular cliffs and scenic beaches. What more can I say? This is Ireland and it wears well on me. No danger of it getting old any time soon.

(6) Giants Causeway and Dunluce Castle. This is what put Northern Ireland on the map for me. Apparently the entire Antrim Coast is particularly spectacular. Unfortunately, we only had time to explore a small section – the part around the Giants Causeway and Dunluce Castle. Dunluce Castle is a ruin in a spectacular location. It is right on the ocean -- in fact it was abandoned in 1639 after dinner was interrupted one night by half of the kitchen sliding off into the ocean.

The Giants Causeway is a section of the coast characterized by bizarre rock formations. The shore is covered with hexagonal pillars that stick up at various heights.

With limited hours of daylight and the sun never really overhead it is hard to get good pictures of anything in the winter. This is the best I could do.

Now for a few odds and ends:

(1) We stayed in B & B’s almost entirely on this trip. The one in Dingle was run by an interesting couple named Phil and Michael Brosnan. Phil (the wife) set my head spinning the first night by saying, “I’ve got to go to mass. I promised that I would go every night for the next month. I may not be there again for another year, but I decided that if we are going to build this house, I need to do this.” Okay, and . . . . how does one respond to that? Good luck on your efforts to manipulate God? Anyway, Phil and Michael were great hosts. We were their only guests. Breakfast was included with our room and Phil was a wonderful cook. The heat in our rooms was a little marginal, but Phil nailed that problem quickly by putting a hot water bottle in each of our beds every night. So simple, yet amazingly effective. Why did we not do this on cold camping trips growing up? Michael taught us to say “Thank-you” in Gaelic. Go-rev-ma-HA-a-gut or something like that.

Michael was a lobster fisherman trapped at home by several weeks of winter weather. We learned a lot about lobster fishing from him including the politics of lobster fishing in Ireland. All very interesting, actually. Apparently they have a new and very unpopular Minister of Fisheries in Ireland. For awhile there were posters around saying “Free Sadaam. Kill Noel Dempsey (the new Minister of Fisheries).”

(2) At Cashel we stayed in a B & B where I had a close up view of “the rock” from my bedroom window. It was run by a single (divorced? widowed?) man named Patrick whose son was a jockey. The house was filled with horse “stuff.” A full Irish breakfast is usually part of the package with B & B’s in Ireland (First course: cereal, toast, yogurt, and fruit. Second course: ham, bacon, one egg, three kinds of sausage and a whole cooked tomato cut in half).

Patrick’s traditional Irish breakfast was the best of the trip – even the cooked tomato was good. And he served it in perfect style. As he did so, Marion commented that she liked his house and he said “That’s a good start. I don’t have a lady you know. I’m looking for one.” Marion played right along and said, as we were leaving, “Let me know the date and I’ll be back.”

(3) Bar-hopping. We really did do this – sort of. The “hopping” we did was from one table to another within the same bar, trying to get the best spot for observing the musicians. We made several attempts on this trip to imbibe in some live traditional Irish music and were only marginally successful. Bars are where the music happens and, in Ireland, they aren’t typically the wild places they might be in the US. Also the food is usually excellent and reasonably priced. But finding the right music off-season is a bit tricky. One night the music was good but it was all jigs – one right after another. The next night the variety was better, but it didn’t start until almost 10:00 and we were an hour and half drive from our beds . . . down a dark unknown road . . . . so I was leery of staying too long. Another night the bar was crowded a hour before the music even started and there was so much cigarette smoke in the room that we decided that staying was out of the question. Oh, well. We tried.

(4) A Dingle sheep dog. On my first trip to Ireland, we stopped at an argo-tourist farm in the Burren and (among other things) watched a sheep dog do his thing. For a city girl like me it was pretty impressive. On this trip we had the good fortune of watching another sheep dog do his thing – this time unstaged, albeit not as close up as the earlier demonstration. One day as we were out and about, I followed my nose down a very muddy side road in pursuit of just the right vantage point to take a picture of Dingle Bay. At some point I stopped taking pictures of the bay and started taking pictures of a bunch of green fields speckled with grazing sheep. Pretty soon we observed a man and a sheep dog moving across those green fields. We were observing from quite a distance, but it was clear that the sheep were immediately aware of the dog’s presence as soon as he entered “their” field. Next thing we knew the dog was herding all the sheep in one particular field into the corner. It was really fascinating to watch – although we never did figure out exactly why he rounded them up. Maybe he was just practicing? Anyway, afterwards the man and his dog worked their way out onto “our” muddy side road and Marion asked if she could take their picture.

(5) Painted sheep. Green fields speckled with grazing sheep are a wonderful sight from a distance, but I must say that the sheep in Ireland are not very photogenic up close. They typically have huge splotches of paint on their backs intended to help the owners identify to whom they belong. Sometimes they even have several splotches of different colors. It is all very messy looking and unattractive in pictures. I really think that the tourism industry and the agriculture industry ought to get their heads together and do something about this.

Okay, so my sense of humor is degenerating rapidly. It’s time to quit.

Nancy

Icebound in Norway

TO ALL

This is travelogue #23. The number of actual excursions covered is probably more like 30. Logic would dictate that at some point there has to be a dud, right? Well, Christmas in Norway was a dud. So the question is, “Can Nancy write an interesting travelogue, even if the trip was a dud?” I’ll leave it to you to make that determination.

As we were discussing the possibility of going skiing in Norway at Christmas time, it crossed my mind that sometimes the ski season doesn’t really get started in Colorado until after Christmas. Also, as I perused the internet for information about where in Norway to go, I got some hints that that might be true in Norway also. So . . . . I e-mailed my cousin Anne who lives in Lillehammer, Norway and asked her what she thought. The answer was “there is always snow in the mountains north of Oslo at Christmastime.” That seemed to answer the question pretty clearly, so I bought plane tickets and moved ahead with the plan. Around the 1^st of Dec, Mike started telling me that all the web-cams on line showed NO snow at all around Lillehammer. But even that didn’t worry me too much. After all I had it from the horse’s mouth: “there is always snow in the mountains north of Oslo at Christmastime.” Besides there was still time for ole man winter to do his thing. By the week before Christmas reality began to sink in. There was still no snow in Lillehammer according to the web-cams. Nonetheless we decided to carry through with our plans. In fact, we were in high spirits as we got on the plane for Oslo at O-dark-thirty on Dec 23^rd. We had heard that there was some snow in Rondane Nat’l Park (which was where we were headed) and, if there wasn’t enough snow to ski, we would just have fun making snow angels outside our cabin and doing some day trips in the car. Little did we know that even making snow angels outside our cabin and doing day trips in the car would be out of the question due to a very slick layer of ice all over everything.

Ryanair’s definition of “Oslo” is a town about 120 km south of Oslo called Sandefjord. (One of Ryanair’s secrets to success is that they always fly out of airfields that are near enough to a major city that they can claim to be flying to a major city but far enough away from the actual city to keep their costs at a minimum. With Ryanair, it pays to investigate exactly where you are landing before you buy a ticket – you could land out in the boonies and end up spending most of what you saved in airfare on ground transportation.)We arrived at Oslo-Torp, as it is called, about 8:30 in the morning and by 9:30 we were in a rent car headed north -- blue skies and no snow in sight. Within an hour we had verified something that we suspected at the airport: the car we had rented was too small for 5 adults (4 Strohms plus friend Marion) to endure with any degree of comfort. So -- back to the airport we went. By noon, we were on the road again in a slightly (very slightly) bigger car. About 2:30 we stopped for lunch. We debated whether to buy groceries at this point, while they were handy, or whether to make a bee-line for our cabin and hope to find something in the little town nearby. Both the owner of our cabin and the guy renting us the cross-country skis were expecting us at a certain time and we were behind schedule. Nevertheless, we decided to buy groceries before heading on and that was, hands down, the best decision of the entire trip. As it turned out, the next opportunity we had to buy groceries was about 48 hours later. We would have had to resort to begging in the interim. By the time we got groceries and got going again it was about 4:00 and it was pitch dark. You read that right – pitch dark at 4:00PM.

With the darkness, came sleepiness. We had been up since about 2:30 AM (in fact, I had never really gone to sleep the night before) and lack of sleep was starting to get to us. Amy would love to have driven, but her driver’s license expired on her birthday, Dec 1^st, and she didn’t tumbled to that fact until after she arrived in Germany. Without a valid driver’s license, there was no way to put her on the rent car policy as a driver. So Mike and I switched off driving rather frequently and somehow we managed to keep moving. From Lillehammer north there was a fair amount of snow along the road. The road itself wasn’t snowy but it was wet and it seemed to have the potential of being slippery. We turned off the main road at a little town called Otta and headed uphill into the park. Within a few kilometers the road turned into a sheet of ice (Mike was driving) and before we knew it we spun out on a slight incline and come to a stop.

When Mike got out to survey the situation, it was so slippery that it was hard to walk without holding onto the car for stability. After determining that the “drop off” to our left wasn’t really a cliff but a slope and that it was a little ways from the road so we had some margin of error between us and total disaster, Mike decided to try to back down the road to a level spot and make another “go” at the incline. But . . . . when he started backing up, the car slid around broadside to the road. Thinking that he might as well turn around the rest of the way, Mike put the car in 1^st gear and gingerly continued turning in the direction he had just been sliding. For a moment we thought we were going to be allowed to complete our U-turn and head back downhill, but then one of our front wheels found its way into a ditch and that was all she wrote.

So now here we are stuck in the middle of no where. It’s pitch dark, very cold, very windy, very icy and there are no houses or other lights within sight. On the good side . . . . we do have food in the car and warm clothes and . . . . . . . . . . . a CELL PHONE!!!!! We called Hans, the owner of our cabin. When Mike mentioned that there was a snow plow parked along the side of the road a few yards behind us, Hans knew exactly where we were. He said (in English) “No problem. I will come and get you in my truck and take you to your cabin. Tomorrow I have to sand the road anyway because I have a bus load of Germans arriving and once I have sanded the road I will pull your car out.” And he was true to his word. Within minutes Hans arrived in a huge truck, transferred us and our stuff into it, and sped off over the ice to our cabin.

Of course “morning” didn’t arrive until after 9:00AM so it was at least noon before Hans got the road sanded and was ready to take Mike to retrieve our car. Mike showed us later how Hans went about pulling him out. Apparently all cars marketed in Norway have a large metal eye bolt with a screw on the end stored somewhere in the trunk or under the hood (the place varies from car to car). And every car has a couple of open screw holes -- one on the front bumper and one on the back bumper -- where the eye bolt can be screwed directly into the frame. This allows one to attach a towing cable to the car in a spot that is actually built to handle that amount of stress. Very simple but ingenious.

When Mike got back with the car we all picked our way very gingerly and carefully across the icy parking lot to where it was parked and piled in, intending to head into town and rent some cross-country skis. NOT. We were stuck again. Getting out of the parking lot required going slightly uphill. Mike had driven into the parking lot easily enough but Hans hadn’t sanded the entrance quite thoroughly enough for us to get out again.

So we retired to our cabin for another night – Christmas Eve -- praising the Lord again for the groceries we had bought the day before. Also for a couple of DVD’s that we have rented in Germany and brought with us to watch on our laptop computer and a bunch of games – playing cards, Catch Phrase, Password, etc.

We had brought our stockings with us and amazingly enough Santa Claus managed to slip-slide his way to our cabin. Christmas morning was a lot of fun. Marion got the prize for being the best shopper. She somehow was able to call to mind all kinds of stray comments and conversations from the preceding year about likes and wishes and then follow up on them and turn them into stocking-sized presents. Amazing. Actually I think everybody did a good job of coming up with neat stocking stuffers especially considering they had to be carted all the way from Germany, and that without violating Ryanair’s very severe luggage restrictions (basically one checked bag per person, 35 lbs max).

On Christmas Day we did actually manage to get out of our cabin for an extended period of time. We drove around Rondane Nat’l Park for a couple of hours with Mike sputtering “I don’t like this” all the while. We even found a little grocery store from which to supplement our meager supply of groceries. We also bought some ice cream – that was the treat of the trip. The little kitchenette in our cabin had only a refrigerator – no freezer – but that was not a problem. We had the whole outdoors at our disposal for keeping things frozen. We were sort of hoping that we might see some reindeer as we were driving around – large herds had actually been spotted in the area in recent weeks – but no such luck. The scenery was beautiful however: high wind-swept tundra, very little vegetation, and snow everywhere as far as the eye could see.

We ended up down on the main highway at one point on our little excursion and the rock walls on the sides of the road were one long continuous frozen waterfall.

We spent much of Christmas Day debating as to the best strategy for the remainder of the trip. Mike was on a four day pass and he had a plane ticket back to Germany for the day after Christmas. The rest of us weren’t scheduled to go back until the following day – the 27^th. We had planned to put Mike on the train in Otta and stay at the cabin for an extra day. But I was getting cold feet about the idea of having to get out of the parking lot by our cabin and down to the main road on my own. We knew that Hans would help if we had a problem, but we weren’t sure that there was anything to be gained by staying around another day except that our cabin was really nice and roomy (we each had our own bedroom!) and coming up with another option somewhere else felt like it would require a lot of energy. At this point we had given up on cross-country skiing. There were other people in the cabins around us and occasionally someone would go by our door on a pair of skis, but they were never gone long and it was clear that it was just too icy for skiing to be very practical. We all did manage to go for short walks around dusk on Christmas Day but for the most part even walking was not terribly practical. It was just too icy.We finally decided to move out of the cabin the next morning (Dec 26^th) and head for Oslo. Mike could catch a train there for Oslo-Torp and the rest of us could find someplace in Oslo to spend the night and do a little sightseeing the next day before heading home that evening. We had some trouble finding a place to stay – several of the places we tried were closed for the holidays -- but it all worked out eventually and Mike was able to make connections to Oslo-Torp without any problem.

That night, the four of us women paid an arm and a leg for pizza at a place called Dolly Dimples. A couple of young men at the table next to us, struck up a conversation with us (traveling with two beautiful young ladies always adds an interesting dynamic to things!) and commented that it was absolutely unheard of not to have snow in Oslo at Christmas. Hans also had clearly indicated that the whole situation in Rondane – minimal snow and a formidable layer of ice -- was highly unusual. When you’ve the instigator of a plan and it goes awry, it’s always comforting to know that the unfortunate turn of events wasn’t caused solely by an error in judgment!

The next day we did some sightseeing in Oslo – the harbor area, the Cathedral, the sculpture park, the ski jump, and a museum housing 3 original Viking ships. This last stop was the best in my opinion.

The trip home was basically uneventful.

So . . . . .was there any redeeming value in our trip? Well a few things, maybe. The sunsets in Norway were beautiful.

We didn’t exactly stay up late looking for Northern Lights, but to our knowledge there weren’t any – too early in the winter possibly? It was, however, interesting to experience first hand, just how short the days are in the North this time of year. The sun truly does rise in the south and then set again 6+ hours later just a few degrees to the west of where it rose. Also, Rondane Nat’l Park was beautiful. I would go back in a heart beat. Norwegians are friendly. And Oslo was interesting. It was an adventure to be sure.

On to some Strohm family news. Alan is actually in Zurich, Switzerland. His tasks for the first week were to get a Visa and set up a Swiss bank account. Yikes!!! Is that really true? Surely I don’t have a son with a Swiss bank account!!! Deanna is back at Cedarville University for her 2^nd semester. She REALLY likes it and has made a lot of great friends – so many that she is relatively undisturbed that her best friend decided not to return for the spring semester. WOW! Must be nice. Amy is back at WWU in Bellingham. This quarter she will apply to Huxley College of Environmental Science (part of WWU). Admission looks like a done deal. So next quarter she will actually get to start on her major. I am teaching Philippians this “semester” at PWOC. I ended up writing a lot of my own homework for the last study I did and that went so well that I was been emboldened to think I could continue in that direction. This time I am using Precept materials but planning to do A LOT re-writing. The moment of reality hit last week and I’m wondering what planet I was on when I made THAT decision. We’ll see how it goes

The best news of all is that it looks like Mike and I will be staying in Heidelberg another year – until August of 2008. You don’t want to know how that came about -- it’s too complicated to explain. I’m not a fan of that currently vogue phrase “It’s a God thing” but, if I was, it would be applicable to this situation. Of course, staying in Heidelberg another year means Mike will continue in his same job another year – that job that he absolutely hates. Let’s just say there are some trade-offs that seem to have made that worth enduring. And perhaps 8 months of experience has mellowed his disposition slightly? Anyway, those of you who have been saying you were going to come and visit us while we were in Germany but haven’t actually done it now have a reprieve – you have another year to get your passports in order and make plans.

Nancy

P.S. This travelogue was supposed to be about Ireland. I decided to go on to our most recent trip to Norway because it was a shorter trip and there are A LOT fewer pictures to sort through. Stay tuned for Ireland, however. It IS still coming.