A visit to Troldhaugen & the Fantoft Stave Church.

Edvard Grieg, arguably Norway’s most famous composer and most famous resident of Bergen, lived from 1885 until his death in 1907 in Troldhaugen, a house designed by his cousin.

The name derives from a valley nearby that children had dubbed “The Valley of Trolls,” hence trold meaning ‘troll’ and haug from the Old Norse haugr meaning ‘hill.’ The grounds contain the house, a small hut overlooking Nordås Lake where he composed, a modern complex housing a small museum and cafe, and a beautiful 200-seat auditorium with floor-to-ceiling windows facing Grieg’s hut and the lake.

I walk through town to the bus staion, passing now-familiar landmarks and locales. At the early hour the fair has not yet opened and the carousel is covered to protect the animals from the elements

It’s a ten-minute bus ride from the Bergen bus station to Hop Sjølinjen, after which it’s about a twenty-minute walk through a residential neighborhodo to Troldhaugen. The parking lot is sparsely-filled, which bodes well; I’m hoping to enjoy a relatively quiet visit.

Arriving at the ticket counter, I’m asked if I’d like to attend a recital in the auditorium. There are two a day, and one is to begin shortly. At first I decline but then think better of it and purchase a ticket for the performance. With a little time before the show is to begin I wander the grounds, heading first to the main house.

Entry to the house is regulated, and is granted as part of a guided tour. There’s one to start soon and I ask how long it will take. Unfortunately, the timing is a little off; the tour would end just after the show begins. There’s no line to get in (probably because of the upcoming recital) but I decide against pressing my luck and head back down to the auditorium.

I’m so glad I decided to attend the concert. It’s amazing listening to Grieg’s work in his home, in view of the hut in which he composed so much of his work. The pianist performs a set of lesser-known works and I am thrilled to hear so many pieces for the first time.

Stepping out of the auditorium I stop by a statue of Grieg before walking down a slightly overgrown path to his composing hut.

Inside the hut it’s small but cozy. His desk is set against a window overlooking the lake, taking advantage of the natural light and the views provided. The desk is set as though for the morning, waiting for Grieg to arrive to begin another day’s work.

I walk along another path that winds its way through the trees up to the house, emerging onto a lawn near the rear of the building. I circumambulate the house to find a long line stretching out from the rear entrance. It seems as though most of the audience has opted to come to the house after the recital.

I decide to come back later and find a path that leads down towards the water. It turns out that this path leads to a mountain crypt in which Grieg’s ashes are entombed after he’d been cremated in the first Norwegian crematorium opened in Bergen. After the death of his wife, her ashes were entombed next to his.

The path continues to the shore where a family of swans bobs in the lake. They pay me no need as I approach, but then decide to swim away towards distant shores, destination unknown.

I climb back up to the house. A line still runs along the base of the house, but it seems more manageable and I take my place behind a family that has arrived. I pull out my book from my pack and prepare to wait.

Inside, the house has been renovated and reset as Grieg once had it. We’re shown around the ground floor rooms, but not allowed upstairs. Grieg’s piano is placed almost in the center of the house, alongside a wall of the main living room, and I close my eyes and imagine what it might have been like to have come for luncheon and have been privy to a private show.

It’s really a beautiful spot, and Grieg has made it an idyllic home. I’m loathe to leave and take one last walk around the grounds, retracing my steps to take a last look before visiting the museum on my way out.

The Fantoft Stave Church sites relatively nearby in the Paradis neighborhood and I decide to walk the 50 minutes or so it will take to get there. As I cross the highway into a new neighborhood I am happy to be able to see examples of the apartment architecture of the area.

Looking at the map I see there are cycling paths that veer away from the main streets and run quietly through the forests. There are paths that lead all the way back to the center and I wish I could have rented a bike to have been able to come and explore. If I lived in Norway I can’t imagine I’d go anywhere with one.

Near the church I stop in a supermarket to buy something to drink. It’s a warm day and I have come out unprepared, originally intending to bus or cab between the two points.

Arriving at the park in which the church resides, I realize I’ve come a back way and walk up a forested path to the top of the hill on which the church has been erected.

Originally built around 1150 in Fortun, the church was moved to Fantoft in 1883 and then rebuilt after it was destroyed by arson in 1992, victim to a string of attacks by members of the early Norwegian black metal scene.

Now it’s a beautifully-preserved example of a stave church. The name is derived from its structure of post and lintel construction. Once common in north-western Europe, there are now only 28 left in Norway out of the thousand or so that once eixsted. A stone cross from Tjora in Sola stands on a hill just outside.

From the church I walk through the park to the main entrance and down to the town of Fantoft where I catch a train back to Bergen, but not before stopping in a cafe by the platform for a treat.

For my final meal in Bergen I eat at Moon, opting for the five-course dinner menu. It’s a great end to the day, a fantastic end to my week stationed here.

Afterwards I walk back along the harbor to my apartment, past the now-familiar Hanseatic heritage commercial buildings that line the Bryggen district. It’s a quiet evening, the hour later that I might have guessed for how bright the sky remains. For all the time I’ve spent in Norway, I’m still not used to the length of the daylight hours, but it’s one of the many things I’ve come to love. 🇳🇴