I arrived in Norway with little room to spare in my luggage, but one souvenir for which I am always happy to finagle space is coffee. I observed on an earlier trip to MENY, one of the local grocery stores, that Sognefjord Kaffibrenneri keeps a well refreshed stock of recently roasted coffee on the shelves, so I was happy to wait until the latter stages of our visit to procure my haul. I look forward to sharing these brews, as well as others I will likely obtain in Oslo, with my team when I return to Oregon.
By the time the sun rose (behind the clouds) this morning, we had completed nearly every visitation to relatives that we had anticipated, but one in particular remained–though this one carried with it some amount of somber solemnity. Kari Foss, Erik’s dearly beloved wife of many decades, passed away after a battle with cancer since our last visit in 2019, and her absence has been deeply felt throughout this trip. Understandably, Erik still struggles to find his words when she becomes the subject of conversation. Others are quick to identify the void she left that will never quite be filled again. It was important to us to pay respects to Kari at Stedje church, where she was laid to rest three years ago.
Kari has played an important role in the maintenance of the connection between the American and Norwegian sides of the Foss family. When my dad first started visiting Norway in the 1970s and 80s, Kari was a dependable constant in his life, acting as a penpal when he was overseas and a daily conversation companion when he visited Sogndal. (He stayed at Erik and Kari’s house, and Erik was often away at work. My dad recalls their remarkable connection despite a considerable language barrier.) When I was born, Kari hand knitted a beautiful sweater–in the finest Norwegian colors–and gave it to us as a gift welcoming me into the world. I, of course, don’t remember this from the actual time period, but I was touched to learn this detail later in adulthood. It illustrates the type of person Kari was, and I was glad to visit the site honoring her memory today.
As the clock runs down on our time in Sogndal, we are forced to begin the unenviable task of saying goodbye. (Fortunately, we still have time to preface our adieus with final meetings and longer conversations.) It was only right that we reserved one such prolonged farewell for Arnor, Kari, Geir, and Marit. These four are rocks of our many connections in Sogndal. Our frolic through the massive collection of photos we’ve accrued over the last two weeks was nourished by a full spread of classic Norwegian conversation fare produced by Marit’s aforementioned culinary heroics (“easy-peasy,” she declares). There is so much I could say about this sub-clan of the family, but what I will remember most about them is the guaranteed laughter that accompanies our every gathering. Accessible humor is not always a given when idiomatic obstacles are involved, but this group not only boxes above their weight class in terms of English ability, but they also are just damn funny. (Hearing Kari nail a Midwestern accent on her imitation of “I’m OK”–our much remarked-upon American way of declining additional food and drink–was a trip highlight.) I appreciate their friendship and good wishes more than I can possibly express here. I will miss them dearly.
The next stop on our farewell tour brought us to Lars and Olaug Marie’s house, where we were also eventually joined by their son, Johannes, for dinner. My dad and I are both adventurous eaters who enjoy trying unfamiliar things, so we were gratified to find that Lars had prepared a classic Norwegian dish we had not yet tasted: raspeballer. (The dish has many pseudonyms depending on where it is being enjoyed, also referred to as potetballer, kompe, and klubb.) I suppose an adequate description would be that they are meatballs, except the meat is replaced with potatoes as the star ingredient. They are traditionally accompanied by a variety of condiments and sides; Lars’s version arrived with sausages, a kohlrabi and carrot mash, and bacon. I truly enjoyed the dish and may need to try my hand at it when I return to the states.
Lars’s family is another group with whom we are able to cover some fairly wide-ranging topics as a result of their strong grasp of English and also their interest in social and political discussions. Olaug Marie’s observations on the Norwegian electoral system are particularly interesting given her level of involvement in the political process. And I know that my dad has been grateful to meet Lars face-to-face after years of online collaboration on genealogical matters. They represent another kinship we’ve appreciated while here, and we have been grateful for their eagerness to spend time with us.
On return to Sogndal, it was time for one more nighttime photo op with the Loftesnes bridge. The city really sparkles at night, the constellations of house lights multiplied by their reflections in the water. I took a quiet moment of reflection to genuinely relish how special this city has become in my life. I’ve found in Sogndal an unexpected home away from home, a haven that has challenged my perceptions of what is truly important. But more on that tomorrow… when I bid this place farewell, hopefully not for the last time.
Where the Waterfalls Mean Home 