I’m writing this edition of the blog from the porch of our rented apartment in Sogndal. The city takes on an entirely different, but no less stunning, variety of beauty at night. The sun has faded behind the mountains, and the twinkle of building lights in the distance almost give the illusion of a web of little boats dancing on the water.
This morning, after a light breakfast–one we will bolster tomorrow with the aid of a generous delivery of food items from Marit–we cut right to the chase and made our way to the waterfall that runs through the center of town. Returning readers will recall that this particular waterfall is the very geographic feature that gifted my family with our surname, so we were anxious to take full advantage of this morning’s gorgeous weather for a prime photo op. (Reliable sunshine can be hard to come by in Sogndal.)
Our next social visit took us to the home of Erik and Kari. Their yard features dozens upon dozens of lovely apple trees, and the walls of their space are adorned with pictures documenting the Foss lineage going back many generations. I was delighted to sit down and hear Erik beam with pride about the history of Sogndal, the stories of the Foss family (both the Norwegian and the American sides), and the many visits he and my dad have shared together. Erik’s impossibly detailed records of our family’s immigration history–including seemingly endless lists of arrival and departure dates and locations, letters from across the Atlantic, and photographs of the earliest arrivals in America–allowed me to witness how strongly connected these relatives have stayed to the stories and circumstances that led some members of the family to seek new opportunities in unfamiliar places. (More on this subject in a future post.) Our conversation was buoyed by a cheery spread of waffles, jams, cookies, and coffee, a detail I share mainly to emphasize how grateful I am for this country’s unadulterated love of coffee.
After a brief interlude during which we grabbed some necessities from the local mart, my dad and I reunited with Erik for a guided tour by car around the city, where he redoubled his demonstrated passion for Sogndal and the surrounding area. In a very short time, I’ve grown to admire Erik’s joyful appreciation of life even amidst difficult and unexpected obstacles, and I am deeply thankful to have felt so immediately welcomed into his city, his home, and his life. I look forward to the many more conversations we will undoubtedly share on this visit.
Where the Waterfalls Mean Home 