Bergen Part II: A Little Bit About a Little City

This is the second in a four part series on my trip to Bergen, on Norway's west coast. If you'd like to start over at the beginning, you can find the first post here:  http://kristofergoestonorway.blogspot.no/2012/07/bergen-part-1-go-west-young-man.html

Late Friday afternoon, after our fjord tour, we finally arrived in Bergen, a city of around 200,000 on the south-west coast of Norway. After checking into our hotel, we had nothing to do until dinner, and so armed with a map, a short history of Bergen, and a hotel guidebook I set out to get to know the city.

My first stop was Bryggen (which means 'the wharf'), right on the old harbor. Bryggen, with its historic wooden houses, was the original seat of the Hanseatic League. Bergen has always been an important port for the Norwegian fish trade; all the dried cod which came down from the northern fishing grounds passed through Bergen on its way to Europe. As a result, the Hanseatic League, a guild of German traders, established itself in the 14th century. They came to control the fishing industry and exerted a considerable influence on the culture of Norway's west coast. Bryggen remained an independent, German speaking area of Bergen until the 16th century, when the Norwegian king forced them to integrate, but the League remained in place until the 18th century, and their mark can be seen all over the city. For example, Hansa Beer, based in Bergen, takes its name from the Hanseatic League, and retains its unique heritage by brewing Norwegian beer made from German ingredients.

Note the Hansa logo, one half the Eagle of the
Free city of Luebeck, other half
the red and white shield of the Hanseatic League.

After leaving the wharf front, I wandered up the cobble stone streets. Bergen is a city built in the foothills of seven mountains, and so the streets are narrow, twisted, and steep.

After exploring for a little bit (and marking down the locations of all the churches), I was getting hungry. I had heard that Bergen was famous for a type of cinnamon roll known as the skillingsboller, and my guide book informed me that a bakery called Baker Brun had been making them since 1893. However, try as I might, I could not track down this Baker Brun, and so I had to go without a roll that first day. (Fear not though, on Saturday I finally tracked the place down and tried a skillingsboller. It was quite good, but I will warn Americans who try a skillingsboller that if you're expecting  it to be as sweet as our American cinnamon roll, you may be a little disappointed).

A skillingsboller, with Norwegian flags in the
background to boot.

Having not found a skillingsboller that afternoon and with dinner approaching, I headed back towards our hotel, passing last through the famous Bergen fisketorget. The fisketorget is an open air fish market down by the waterside, with all sorts of delightful offerings, all of which cost a pretty penny. (I still can't quite figure out why the sea food in Norway is so expensive, but rest assured, it is fresh and it is good). 

As much as I wanted to buy a plate of shellfish, a dinner that I had already paid for awaited, and so I passed on the opportunity. My evening meal consumed, I took a short walk, listened to a steel guitarist play Bob Dylan, and then headed up to bed to go to sleep in a city where another young Kristofer, destined to be a pastor, went to sleep 120 years earlier. If I wasn't so tired, it might have been a thought to keep me awake; luckily though, after adapting to my cot, which slanted heavily to the right, I slept like a log.