After leaving the self-sustaining farm in Lillehamer, I traveled down to another farm in the southern part of the country, and then up to the west coast. I thought the landscape was stunning in Lillehamer, but driving along the fjords towards the west forced me to entirely recallibrate my understanding of a beautiful, dramatic landscape. I think it is safe to say I have never seen anything like the Norwegian mountains. The vastness is unimaginable. Cliffs reflect in the mirrored waters of the fjords, their tall stone brows crowned with fog wreaths. The hillsides are dotted with small colored houses and rows of plum trees, and along the roadside tiny stands sell plums, apples, and cherries. The roads themselves are guarded with tall stone walls, so should an avalance descend the slope, the snow would hit the wall and leap over the road leaving it unscathed. Many of the roofs of older buildings are thatched with turf, from which thick flora grows. The leviathan mountains makes one feel so very small-- looking up at them, one feels that just one Norwegian mountain could swallow your whole life and still be hungry. The houses are like drops of water in a well.
In my last few days in Norway, I stayed in a small cabin and wrote. Each day I would stock the woodstove, curl up in a blanket, and listen to rain fall outside the window. Then I would spend a few hours working on a series of magic-realism short stories I'm developing. It can be difficult to find ample time for reflection while traveling as I am, so it was wonderful to have a few days of quiet thought. I'm seeing so much and collecting endless inspiration, which I squirrel away in my journal to save for a moment I have time to sit down and explore it. And once I don't feel an urgent fervor to grab a pen, it is time to move on...
I arrived in Hamburg, Germany after a thirty hour train ride. Somehow it didn't feel that long. I have definitely reached expert level in terms of sleeping in bizarre places and positions.
My first day there, I went to the place where my host in Hamburg worked-- the world's largest model train set up. As in, those fully functioning toy trains that people set up to run through miniature yet supremely intricate cities. Well, this one was a whole building full. There were rooms upon rooms of minute cities populated with thousands of tiny people, all dressed and posed uniquely. Every piece of clothing and accessory and hairstyle had to be hand-molded with clay and hand painted. Miniature music festivals boomed and flashed. Airplanes jetted off miniature runways. Small firetrucks wailed and drove to tiny smoking houses. The towns and landscapes, many of which were identical representations of actual cities, looked absolutely real. Just, well, very, very small...
A snippet of the miniature model world in Hamburg^
As the week progressed, my host Vanessa showed me around the city, including a riverside boardwalk and sand beach where we picnicked. I feel it is extremely worth noting that ice cream cones only cost one euro, in Hamburg! We also spent a good deal of time in Sternschanze, a slightly more alternative part of the city. I was able to set up my poetry-to-order stand outside the area's most popular bar, which was a splendid decision. Setting up at around 7, I could chat and have a few drinks and be part of the scene, as most of the patrons at the bar sat in outdoor seating right on the street. Then, by around 9, the street was jam packed with drunk, chatty people, all of whom wanted a poem. I was able to meet people, socialize, and drink like I was on a night out, all the while typing up poems and earning money. Plus, I must say, writing a poem on the spot in a ten-minute pressure cooker comes a lot more easily after I've had a couple cocktails... most of which my customers graciously donated, anyway. Pretty good gig, if I do say so myself!
^ Selling poems-to-order outside a bar during a Hamburg Friday night.
My time in Hamburg had a somber side, as well. A few days ago, I had the chance to visit a concentration camp not far away. It was a small camp, where prisoners had been forced to make bricks in order to rebuild buildings being bombed in Hamburg during the war. However, even though it was small, the despair of the place was palpable. I had heard before that often in those places, the air felt different-- thick. I must say, there was something hanging there, lingering, that felt very wrong. The air outside the camp had been warm with a gentle breeze, but the whole time I was inside the grounds, not a leaf stirred. There were a number of exhibitions which included writings on individual prisoners who had stayed there, as well examples of their blue striped uniforms and information on their horrific treatment and torture. Actually walking around a camp makes all the horror from that era feel so very real and immediate. To feel the ground beneath your feet adds a tangible layer to what has always just been stories, for me. I was so struck with how lucky I am to be born an American Jew in 1990, how that night I would leave the camp at my own will and put on a dress and red lipstick and go to a party to flirt and drink, while people so very like myself did not have such luck. It is important to remember one's priviledge, and to remember how only sheer chance of circumstance granted it.
So onwards I went-- I left, I put on a dress and red lipstick and let my life continue, blessed as it is. That night, Vanessa's family cooked me a German barbeque extravaganza. I had been excited at the prospect of bratwurst, and when Vanessa's dad learned that, he decided to make every kind of bratwurst he could find, so I could try every single one. It was pretty damn fantastic. That night, I went to a house party and stayed out until 8am, ending at Hamburg's huge fish market, where we ate fried fish for breakfast and sat on the docks. I even tried a bite of horse sausage, just for the sake of it... We watched the sun blossom over the river before heading home.
So that brings us up to date, I'd say. Whew! Tomorrow I'll explore Copenhagen, but until then-- sleep!!
Love,
GennaRose
