An overcast afternoon wandering the grounds of Bergenhus Fortress.

My apartment is right by the Bergenhus Fortress, but I keep putting off a visit.

It’s so close I imagine I can go anytime; the irony being that I don’t. But with my days in town dwindling down, I decide to make the effort not only to visit the fortress but also the cathedral.

It’s a quick walk to the cathedral and I am soon inside, the cold grey morning replaced by the warm lights that cast an orange glow upon the stone walls. The organ gleams, silent in the choir loft and I long to hear it breathe.

Back outside I retrace my steps, passing my neighborhood to visit the King Haakon VII. Bergenhus Fortress. I don’t feel much like being indoors, the overcast skies notwithstanding, and decide to skip the museums, opting only to walk the grounds to dmire Haakon’s Hall and the Rosengrantz Tower from without.

The fortress contains some of the oldest and best preserved stone fortifications in Norway, with buildings dating as early as the 1240s and as recently as World War II. A medieval hall and defensive tower remain from the earlier eras, the latter of which is now known as the Rosenkrantz Tower after the governor Erik Rosenkrantz under whose administration it assumed its current shape and structure.

In the 19th century the fortress was retained as an administrative base, having lost its function as a defensive fortification. Today it is used as a concert venue and feast hall for public events.

In a corner of the fortress, a statue of King Haakon VII stands watch.

The fortifications are built on elevated ground, with stone paths that crisscross the yards. From the edge of the grounds I look out towards the water and the ships docked there, the oil platform support ships holding space, the cruise ships taking up what berths remain.

There are steps up the grass-covered ramparts and I climb up to the grassy knolls that surround the fortress. They seem perfectly designed for blankets to be laid upon them so that one can be perfectly positioned for sunbathing and reading.

There’s a few people who are are picnicking on the grass. If it were a nicer day I’d consider coming back with a blanket and a book to spend the rest of my afternoon enjoying the outdoors and the views of the town.

Walking back to my apartment, I soak in the pictaresque lanes that run through my neighborhood. It’s almost as if I live on a movie or TV set for how idllyic and perfectly-designed (and preserved) the neighborhood is. I could be walking the streets of a Norwegian Stars Hollow, about to run into the Norwegian equivalent of the Gilmore girls.

I spend a relaxing last few days in the town. On the next night, I’m rewarded with the most beautiful sunset imaginable. It pours over the church and the surrounding hills painting everything in sight with golden light. 🇳🇴