Nothing is as it should be in Norway. For one thing, it refuses to fit into any photo frame. The town of Reine this morning was ringed by mountains so huge they cast shadows with no edges, melt water striping the sides like fingernail scratches left behind by giant trolls.
I saw guests eating ice cream beneath ice-topped peaks. Triangular rooftops carpeted in grass and flowers. Deep-sea devil fish high and dry in souvenir shops. Whaling boats moored with harpoons pointing into kitchen windows.
As we steamed into magnificent Trollfjorden this afternoon, the galley staff offered delicious Norwegian fare prepared on the front deck. I saw guests in windbreakers gather around a barbecue. Cooked char take flight as the ship turned into the wind. Bosuns running after bread rolls. Officers watching waterfalls, oblivious to the rain.
And just when you think that nothing more can surprise you, another stone landscape swallows you whole.
I saw guests eating ice cream beneath ice-topped peaks. Triangular rooftops carpeted in grass and flowers. Deep-sea devil fish high and dry in souvenir shops. Whaling boats moored with harpoons pointing into kitchen windows.
As we steamed into magnificent Trollfjorden this afternoon, the galley staff offered delicious Norwegian fare prepared on the front deck. I saw guests in windbreakers gather around a barbecue. Cooked char take flight as the ship turned into the wind. Bosuns running after bread rolls. Officers watching waterfalls, oblivious to the rain.
And just when you think that nothing more can surprise you, another stone landscape swallows you whole.
