We crossed into Norway this morning, a cold, sunny-cloudy kind of day with a bit of rain thrown in. I could sense the difference right away. Fewer red houses though some of the barns are painted that color. More firs and spruce, golden birches. And hardly any cars; Norway has only half the population of Sweden.
We're Not in Sweden any more!
Our first stop was the World Heritage town of Røros, a historic copper mining town from the days when Norway, like Sweden, was part of Denmark. The mines are closed now, Røros is a tourist town of old wooden buildings scattered around the central church, one of the oldest in Norway from the glory days of the town. The smelter, several times burned and resurrected, Phoenix-like, now serves as a museum.
Our SatNav "girl" had trouble with our next stop, alternately "Foldol," "Folldal," or "Folldals." She continually reminded us that it was "not on a digitized road," as if that were our fault. We also learned that the hotel we booked also has three names and it was definitely not situated on a digitized road! This is a bit like quantum theory where nothing is certain - there is only a probability of something existing.
The old geezer sitting on the porch said in melodious Norwegian-accented English, "I know who you are" when I told him we are from the US. Odds are they don't get many Yanks this far out in Norway. Or many Norwegians, either. He showed us to our tiny room; narrow twin beds, something between a cradle and a coffin, and a 4X4 bathroom complete with shower, sink and toilet. He remarked on the weather, sunny at last, and mentioned that it snowed overnight on the mountain across the valley. He positively beamed when he forecast the temperature is expected to drop below freezing tonight. Ah, summer is Sweden!
