Day 12
Stavanger, Norway
The water was still and so was my mind as we pulled into port. Lots of lighthouses and perfect white houses several stories tall, their roofs steep, anticipating winter. Houses perched one higher up the rocky hill than the next. Everyone with a view. Seagulls gliding inches above the water – their bodies reflecting like old wobbly glass. Bright green rolling hills and dark evergreen trees.
The boat turned, water swirling in deep, deep pools outside my deck. Kicking the boat to the starboard. I watched it, clean and light green and happy. No Pollution Visible. Then houses packed one on top of another. Every which way. No one, it seemed, with a view other than the next guy’s wall. Each house white as could be with red roofs smiling to the heavens.
So many tiny, tiny cars. One person cars, and two person cars with one seat behind the other. Quadricycles. Rentable, ownable, electric. Could I drive it to Alaska? At 25 mph? With my dog?
I think so.
Mom thinks not.
Where are you going to charge it on the Alcan Highway, she asks. Solar panels obviously, I say. It’s Canada – it’s cloudy, she says. And we leave it at that. Because why quash my dream when I’m obviously right, #1, and I probably can’t buy a Twizy in the U.S., #2, and it’s probably illegal in Canada anyway, #3.
But I totally want one.
Mom and the Aunts gobbled up expensive yarn stores because, why not? And I looked at blankets that cost too much money and I wanted them anyway and my husband would Laugh Heartily or kill me if I bought one more blanket. Not sure which. Plus how was I going to get it home anyway? But I petted them all and planned which chair they’d go on in my living room and I touched them to my face and closed my eyes. I’m still clearly afraid of being cold, so I must Buy All The Blankets.
Moms stormed the streets three abreast with their babies in exclusive-edition baby buggies. All irritated looking with loose hairs flying about but still in fancy tops and light jackets and leggings as expensive as my too-expensive blankets.
We passed the only barber shop in town. Only men allowed. Except on May 8th of each year when the ladies of the town went in to have their legs shaved. Street art by the gallons plastered all over businesses. Encouraged by the town. Paid for by the town. A young girl with a dandelion two stories tall on a barn red building, and a tiled tribute to the strength and support of the Norwegian LGBT community.
And the one piece of graffiti. A stick figure woman yelling Ka Ka! Guessing that one was not sanctioned by or paid for by anybody.
An oil and gas museum nodding to the reason Norway is wealthy, but in the same breath undermining themselves by promoting renewable energy. 20% of new cars sold in Norway are electric. And ebikes are encouraged and common.
A cathedral built in 1125 and still standing, with room for 700 people but there were only 250 people in town when it was built. Always forward-looking, always planning for the future. Ravens outside hop-hop-hopping around with black heads and tails but grey bodies. Funny-looking and healthy.
Raised brass lines in sidewalk making easy navigation for the blind who walk with canes.
A city of Wealth and Art and Thoughtful Touches. A city of reindeer hides for sale on the streets and fox skin hats and a society so into change that they’ll put themselves out of business. A place of mild winters and boats and tourism and places unchanged through the decades.
A place with Quadricycles. Tiny-Adorable-Cars ready to drive me to Alaska whenever I pleased.