The last word

Or should that be, the last night? And what a night it was. Hurtigruten rather pulled the stops out. We were absolutely ravenous by 7.30pm, but went to the bar, along with everyone else, and had a glass of fizz. Most people had really gone for it. They had taken on board “Gala dinner” and there was a genuine sense of occasion with our fellow guests. Folks had discarded their fleeces and their gilets and had put a frock or nice shirt on and made a real effort. And more to the point, there was a sense of occasion with the Hurtigruten team also. They lined up as we all walked in for dinner. It felt as though they were putting themselves on the line, almost being judged.

We were welcomed for dinner in the statutory four languages. The Norway contingent didn’t even acknowledge their welcome. The French, who were seriously in the minority, contributed with a polite ripple of applause. The German contingent gave a respectable hand clap when it was their turn, but the English welcome was kept until last…(apparently not least) to a certain amount of amusement. Our welcome was met with the most raucous cheers.

It might have been posh, celebration night, but that didn’t mean that anyone knew what the hell was actually going on. And indeed, that included us. It took several attempts from our server, to explain to us that we didn’t choose what we wanted to eat, we were simply served five courses. OK, Although our server smiled her usual smile, we recognised later, that actually didn’t mean a thing. So, the starters came out….all meat, not a hint of veggie to be seen. By this point, I am nearly weeping with hunger. Our server has done her usual…a runner. Where the hell does she go? What does she do? And more to the point, why?! At this point, I’m about to give Michael Winner a run for his money, when out of nowhere, a veggie starter appears. Phew. I know I’m an absolute rat-fink if I’m hungry and God help anyone who gets in the way.

All calm was restored once I had had calories and we got chatting to our new next-door neighbours over the glass partition. Long story short, the one was from York (initially), but had gone out on the £10 Pomp back in 1965. She was 25 at the time and challenged me to do the Math (as they say). I was particularly delighted to hear her story, given some of my family had ventured out this way too. It was clear our newfound friends were desperate to get back home now though, having done a 45-day trip around Europe. It was lovely chatting with them and more so, as they were from the Gold Coast, the same as my cousins.

It was almost as if the Gods (or whoever) were shining down on us and were giving us the best sunset, the best views, the calmest Fjords, the perfect conditions, just to ensure we return at a later date. And indeed so we shall. Norway has been, quite simply amazing. It’s the calm that I will remember. The peace and quiet of the towns. The peace and quiet of this trip. The perfect silence that everyone has enjoyed as we have ambled down these Fjords at the speed of a really slow snail. Everyone has respected the environment we’ve been in. There have been no loud noises (other than the annoying UK Hurtigruten rep), no partying, no annoying cigarette-butt flicking into the Fjords, no posturing. Just a raw appreciation of one of the Wonders of the World which is Norway. It has been, quite simply, super special.