SEVEN DAYS IN NORWAY: DAY 1 Landing at Kristiansand and driving to the Strand Hotel Fevik

Last night at midnight Frog and I returned from a week in Norway, the land of my mother’s mother. We were there for the 75^th birthday party of my mother’s sister, who lives in the country. When I was a child we went to Norway as a family every summer to stay in a village by the sea with lots of cousins. As a teenager I visited several times on my own both in the summer and to ski, staying with relatives and family friends. Since then – nearly 50 years ago - I’ve not been back.

Phew. I didn’t know what to expect and felt quite nervous, both about the travel arrangements which hadn’t been easy – travel agents didn’t seem to know about Norway apart from cruises on the fjords*, the northern lights and dog-sledging, but eventually we were sorted out by the wonderful Student Travel Association – and at the prospect of colliding with family (which I don’t find easy at the best of times). I felt better however when I decided to treat the trip as something I was doing for work, as research perhaps for some writing. It wasn’t a holiday; I was there to observe. Detachment was the key. Well, that was the idea anyway.

Having changed planes (and waited four hours) at Amsterdam airport, we touched down at Kristiansand on Norway’s southernmost tip on a blinding afternoon – Norway was having the same heatwave as us.

Amsterdam's Schipol airport was a scrum but we liked this cafe (The Amsterdam Bread Company) and these stone benches. They were surprisingly comfortable.

Even though Kristiansand is supposedly one of Norway major cities, you could scarcely see the houses for trees, and we had descended over a vast blue bay that reminded me of Sydney harbour in Australia. As we stepped on to the tarmac people waved at us from behind a fence and we were hit with the scent of pine as if we’d been in Greece. Frog beamed. ‘I like it,’ he said. I almost cried. He’d been even more nervous and even more reluctant to go than me.

We picked up a hire car from a charming young man with impeccable English and after ten minutes trying to find out how to start the darn thing and several wrong turnings we reached the E18, one of Norway’s biggest roads, and headed up the coast towards Fevik and the Strand Hotel where the party was to be held. We had the road almost to ourselves, and while Frog concentrated on right-lane/left-hand driving, I distracted him with my squeaks. If we weren’t going through a tunnel under pillars of rock, we were scooting over spectacular bridges above expanses of sparkling water – rivers? lakes? fjords? It was magnificent, amazing, gorgeous.

The hotel staff greeted us with the same easy charm and impeccable English as the car-hire man and, too tired even to wash, we dumped our cases in our room and headed for the bar. We sat on the terrace, looking out over the beach where – even though it was 8 in the evening – people were still swimming, still walking around in towels and bathers.

A hot summer's evening on the terrace of the Strand Hotel looking out to sea

We decided not to worry about the prices (at least double those in the UK) and ordered ourselves drinks and food, and while we waited a lovely Romanian waitress (on her only her second day there and who didn’t speak Norwegian so was delighted to discover we were English) plied us with extra portions of scrumptious (and free) focaccia.

At 11pm we drew our curtains against the light and collapsed into bed. We’d managed the first hurdle: getting there.

* Fjord cruises are not popular with the Norwegians. They add nothing to the local economies and the boats block views and destroy the locals' peace. Just saying.

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