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Thu
Aug 05
 Today was our big trip to Rosendal. After much
discussion and looking at various maps we worked out a path that
involved 4 ferries and ~3.5 hours of driving, round trip. We set out
about 10:30. It was a thirty minute drive to the first ferry, which we
missed by about 30 seconds. I blame Lizzie. She couldn't decide between
the lamby and the bunny at the shopping center we stopped at to look
for Sudafed for Karen, who was afflicted with a runny nose. (Did you
know that Sudafed & all drugs like it are prescription-only in
Norway? I looked at the limited array of nose-squirters, and decided
(a) Norwegians must believe that nasal drip is suffered only by the
weak and should be gotten over by adjusting one's attitude, and (b)
nose-squirting wasn't for me. But I got some great face-cleanser. -K)
The rest of the drive was fun. The vistas are amazing, with a
stunning view of the mountains coming down to the fjords around every
turn. It was like a country of nothing but Yosemite. The only
difference is there are small brightly-painted houses here and there,
and more views over water. The only thing that kept us from stopping
and doing nothing but taking pictures was the fact that the ferries are
timed. If when you get off a ferry you start driving to the next ferry
and maintain at least the speed limit you can pull into the next ferry
with ~5 min to spare. One thing about Norwegians, they don’t let little
obstacles like 2.0 km of rock or 5.0 km of water stop their roads. The
road we were following (the 48) had the same name across two ferries
and the distance markers included the ferry trips. -A
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 We parked with the other visitors in a lane
lined with trees just outside the estate, then walked toward the main
house along a neatly manicured path. Trees and clumps of shrubbery were
spaced around the lawns, and the paths meandered in best English
parkland style. We stopped for coffee and cake and ice-cream at the
manor’s café; the adults sat at small elegant tables under the
canopy of a great tree, overlooking a grassy slope dotted with trees
and flowers, and currently containing two wildly shrieking little
Americans. “Eeeeee!!!” and “Hoooraaay!!!” and “Emmmmma!!!” resounded
from the hills as Emma and Lizzie ran down and labored up the slope.
Something about the terrain inspired them to run amok. Covert checking
of our fellow coffee-drinkers revealed more indulgent smiles than tight
lips, so the disruption of the overall Edwardian atmosphere didn’t seem
to be a problem.
Eventually we coaxed the kids away from the lawn---well, picked them up
and carried them---and headed over to the bathrooms and kitchen
gardens. Emma ran through her usual no-I-don’t-need-to-go routine,
loyally backed up by Lizzie, who, though excluded from the debate by
her diaper status, nevertheless chimed in, “No! No way! Wan’ a kiki.”
(“Kiki” is the new favorite word, followed by “c’acker,” cookies and
crackers being very popular with the under-five crowd.) The
conversation followed the regular pattern, ending with the traditional,
“Hey! I had to pee!” and “How does this faucet work?” and “Why are the
flushers diff’rent in Norway?” -K
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 As
we ambled to another section of the park, I casually told Emma that the
children who used to live at Rosendal a long time ago used to play in
the park until their mother rang a bell to call them in to dinner. This
piqued her interest, and the whole rest of the excursion was punctuated
with questions about the children who used to live at Rosendal. We
talked about what they did in the winter time, what kind of games they
played, what they did when the circus came to town, and what they did
for Channukah. Emma wasn’t completely satisfied with the answer to her
last question, and we returned to Channukah a few times before she
accepted that maybe the children celebrated Christmas instead.
There was a beech forest with pale green light filtering through the
leaves onto moss-covered rocks, and we passed a gap in a stone wall for
a hike to the “I do” bench described in the Rosendal brochure. You get
there by crossing an orchard, then following a narrow switchback trail
through the beechwoods and ferns. The trail goes up and up, then you
come to a bench that looks out over the estate and down to the fjord,
and further up the valley to a waterfall set off by an isolated red
farmhouse. I can see why a lot of guys would choose to propose there. -K
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 On the hike down, Lizzie was riding
on Aaron’s shoulders when she yelled to Thomas: “Hoppets! HOPPETS!” My
brother paused and looked back, and Lizzie settled back, satisfied,
then took up a kind of New Age chant, “Hop-pets . . . Hop-pets . . .
Hob-bits . . . .” Aaron grew absorbed in it, and soon the two of them
were chanting in unison, all the way down the mountain. So Thomas isn’t
just Pockets any more.
Back
in the parklands, the girls were seized with the same recklessness that
had manifested earlier. They ran around yelling and jumping, and as
soon as Thomas brought out his camera Emma & Lizzie both heaved up
their T-shirts and began yelling “Tummy-tummy! Tummy-tummy!” We have
several lovely pictures.
On the first ferry home, Thomas unwisely
gave in to fatigue and decided to stay in the car for the crossing.
Both of the girls were asleep, so Aaron & I left them in the car
too, and went on deck. After a few minutes Aaron said he’d be right
back, and disappeared. All became clear when he returned bearing two
hot dogs, ammunition in the ongoing battle for hot dog domination
between him and Thomas.
On the
second ferry, we all went to the canteen and had hot dogs. Thomas
reckoned up the score after finishing his two hot dogs, and Aaron, who
was rather full by then, smugly corrected him, then for evidence showed
him the picture I’d taken. Shock. Dismay. Outrage. Vows of a comeback.
The
last stretch of driving was enlivened with many, many repetitions of
the ABC song, and by Emma playing “This Little Piggy” with Lizzie’s
toes.
Back
at the cabin we were just in time for a super rain-shower. Nothing
daunted, Emma & I took her new net onto the dock along with a
plastic tub, and fished for seaweed, Emma having banned any
intervention in the lives of the sea-creatures. We returned, wet
through, and Emma went straight to shower----she loves that there’s no
shower-enclosure, just a curtain surrounding part of the tiled floor,
which is heated. My mom & dad were out for dinner with friends, so
we cooked up steak and French fries and broccoli, then ran a movie for
the girls. They fell asleep pretty quickly, and then I started some
fresh coffee, and we broke out Settlers of Cataan.
Many
intricate game-maneuvers later, the coffee-pot was getting low, Aaron
was headed for victory with the longest road, and my parents returned.
We paused the game for a mutual review of the day and waves goodnight,
then Aaron fulfilled his game-destiny and won. We’re waiting for a
re-match. -K
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