I'm Bergen

Every few hours I would wake as the engines roared to life to pull us out from a pier. The ferry kept operating all through the night. Combined with the white night (the sun sets at night in the north, but it never really gets dark) it made for a strange sleep. I found it reassuring after a while; I never woke up wondering where I was.

I rose at what I thought was breakfast time but turned out to be not-quite-breakfast time and went to take some photos. I had to be careful not to stray too far. With an average passenger age around 86 I suspected there would be a rush for breakfast as soon as it opened.

Everyone wanted a photo of this little house

It was too windy to stay outside all day, and long stretches of bare coast provided few photo opportunities, but I felt bad sitting inside and reading (though I am reading Justin Cronin's The Passage and it is fantastic). In the end I tried to find a seat close to a window and the bow where I could check for upcoming photo opportunities.

There were many

As we approached Bergen the scenery changed. The hills and mountains became greener, the houses which had been built on strips between the slopes and the sea were built further up.

Still lots of cool islands

Entering the city from the water gives an appreciation for its layout I never got again, once I was wandering around it. Bergen is spread all about the fjord, anywhere there is land to build on.

But still very green, in summer

It was late when we got in. I had to wait for the next day to get a good view of the city from above.