At long last, as we knew it eventually would, our unseasonable streak of sunny skies came to an end today. But the gloom can only do so much to dull Sogndal’s charm. The city, as well as the countryside that surrounds it, takes on a different–but no less striking–mood when blanketed in mist. I can’t help but make the comparison to the Misty Mountains from Lord of the Rings as I observe the wisps of fog hugging the nearby slopes, ribbons of white against an earth-green backdrop.
My dad and I had started to bank some backup plans–for a rainy day, as the expression appropriately goes–so today we pulled one of them from our back pocket and headed to the town of Skei for some souvenir shopping. Audhild Viken is a gift shop that specializes in Christmas-themed decor as well as a cornucopia of clothing, jewelry, books, and other tchotchkes. Last time, in 2019, we also visited the upstairs café where I experienced my first helping of rømmegrøt–a wheat porridge usually topped with butter, sugar, and cinnamon that understandably enjoys sanctified status as a culturally significant dish of Norway. Today, however, we arrived already satisfied, so my next bowl will have to wait.
My family’s annual Christmas tree is a bit unorthodox: my mom, an avid collector of all things pig-related, covers our tree with pig ornaments she has amassed over decades. (A mere fraction of her collection is enough to saturate a considerably sized fir.) Audhild Viken has historically been a reliable contributor to our hog-wild holiday traditions, and today was no exception. I know it means a great deal to my parents to continue to feature the spirit of Norway on their tree every year, so I am glad we made the time.
Later, we were graciously invited to spend the afternoon with a group of Fosses at the home of Odd and Annvei. (For perspective: Odd’s father is Jermund Foss, one of the six Foss brothers mentioned in previous posts, so Odd and I are fourth cousins.) Joining us in conversation were (cracks knuckles) Erik, Jermund, Benny, Kjell Roar, Sissel, Odd, Annvei, Kjell Joar, Benedicte, Anna, Sigrid, and Jon. Our talk was buoyed by a delicious assortment of cakes and waffles, made only more impressive by the duplicated gluten-free offerings of each item (Portland would be proud, indeed).
After I mentioned that I had relocated to Portland, Oregon, both Jon and Anna inquired about the protests against police brutality they had seen on the news. I was surprised to learn that the subject had reached an international audience, and explained that the reporting covering the protests was partly true but also partly sensationalized. To report that everything was peaceful ignores that there were some incidents with violence, but to disproportionately focus on those incidents–as many reports did—gives the false impression that the entire movement was steeped in destruction. I was once again impressed to witness the level of awareness of American affairs on display here.
Following a little time to indulge in cakes and coffee, it was time for show-and-tell with local legend and not-so-resident historian, Kurt Foss. My dad has stockpiled a trove of photos, newspaper clippings, government documents, and all other manner of exhibit relating to the Foss family over many decades of Norway visits and research performed at home. (Thank goodness for modern technology: what would require an entire third suitcase can now fit on an iPad.) Members of the older generation were eager to see snapshots of bygone times that roused fond memories and captured Sogndal in one of its many evolutions, while the younger folk delighted to see their forebears in different stages of life.
It is difficult to put this part into words, but I feel so deeply comfortable and welcome with these people despite only having met them a handful of times. I don’t take for granted that I’ve been given these opportunities to share time with them. I am not always able to adequately express my gratitude given the language barrier, but I hope they understand how thankful I am not only for their hospitality, but also to call them family.
Where the Waterfalls Mean Home 