I'm on Top of the Fjord, Hey!

Climbing to Pulpit Rock was an experience I will never forget.

My three travel companions woke up early on hike-day, knowing that because it was a holiday weekend, the trail would be crowded later in the day. By 6:30 www were on the road. I think we were all full of so much excitement and adrenaline that it didn't even feel so so early. The way up to the top was tranquil but tough, with the trail varying from dirt path to huge boulders running with water to never-ending slabs of stone. At one point the ground leveled out an we found ourselves on a narrow, winding bridge with a pond on either side. The field was full of tiny puff-ball flowers that looked like mini Truffula Trees, and I wished the peacefulness of such a lovely little meadow would never end!

When we ran out of water, we found ourselves some rock water

We came across only a few people as we walked- maybe 15-20 over those first few hours. Each hiker we passed exchanged a cheerful, "Good morning!" with us, and we even found ourselves offering and receiving a hand up over a tough rock or two with these strangers. As we neared the end, perhaps looking sweaty, hungry, and out of breath, a man stopped to encourage us with a positive, "You're so close, you can do it," giving us the momentum we needed to keep going. These were the locals, the seasoned hikers; as we made our way up from about 7:00-9:00am, a few of them were already on their way back down. We had been told that the Nordic people were reserved and even a little closed-off, but we found the opposite in the warm, quiet but friendly people we encountered.

The trek back down couldn't have been more different. 

Though still late morning/early afternoon, the trail was suddenly packed with selfie-stick wielding hoards. The "good mornings" stopped, and rather than patiently waiting on, assisting, and encouraging fellow hikers, people seemed to be much more willing to push past each other to get to the top. Should you find yourself on a hike to Pulpit Rock, I would highly recommend beginning as early as you can (6:30-7:00 AM was perfect) in order to experience the peace we were so lucky to enjoy.

Arriving at the top felt like such an accomplishment. 

At first I was absolutely giddy, running around and trying to take it all in at once. There were few people up there, and it felt like we were on top of the world. Pulpit Rock, also called Preiekestolen, rises 1,982 feet  from the fjord below to a flat-topped cliff. Looking down was completely terrifying- at one point, we tried belly-crawling to the edge to peek over, but I felt like I was going to have a panic attack and had to move away. Later though, we found another, more safe-feeling edge to peek over and couldn't get over how HIGH we were!

 

After some of the giddiness subsided, serenity took its place. For a long time we sat in silence, taking in the fjord. I am in love with the view of mountains in the distance, where varying shades of blue overlap as the rise in and out of view. The fjord did just that. Something about the pale, hazy light that hung over us all weekend gave the world a heaven-like feeling as we watched from above.

So many of my experiences make me feel small, like a tiny little Who from Whoville, whose entire world resides on a speck of dust or on the tip of a snowflake. That moment on the edge made me stop and consider where I am now, look back at the person I've been, and wonder what could possible be next. If I could tell me shy, awkward 15 year old self, "You will do things you never even dreamed of- someday you're going to hike the fjords of Norway," I wouldn't have believed it. But it's almost cyclical; what will my 35 year old self be wishing it could go back and tell 25 year old me? I am so overwhelmed with gratitude and awe so much of the time (mixed of course with the small stresses, intense homesickness, and boring Netflix&TakeOut days), but seeing the path I've moved down in the past ten years makes me wonder so much about the future. Sitting on a really big rock makes you think about things, I guess...

Quick Post: Prague with My Squague

This is just a quick picture post for a quick weekend trip my friends and I took to Prague for the Cesky Pivní Beer Festival. Amazing time, amazing city, amazing beer!

Pompeii

Pompeii completely exceeded all of my expectations. 

I've always been fascinated by ruins, trying to imagine what the stones that have been preserved for a thousands of been a part of, and the lives that surround them. It's often been very abstract though; seeing columns or the outline of a building and trying to mentally fill in the rest. Pompeii brought back all the hours spent in high school and college history classes, learning about the ancient Romans and their incredible civilization. In Pompeii, you can see it and understand that it really was there. 

I'm starting to love tours. 

Walking around with a guide who fills you in on the ins and outs brings it to life. Words of advice should you ever visit the ancient buried city: Take a tour. While it is impressive to see the how well preserved the city is, without a tour you miss out on the history, the details, and some really interesting stories. It would also be hard to tell exactly what was what. My tour led me and about 30 other people through a day in the life of a Pompeii citizen, starting with a fast-food stand. Ok, not an ancient McDonalds, but there were ancient "restaurants" where the owner would have a few pre-made stews or dishes ready to spoon out and be taken away. It really was almost like a drive through, but instead you'd walk up to the front of the building, pick from the few options, and be sent off with a delicious meal. In the corner, you can see a stair; the proprietor of this shop lived upstairs. The guide mentioned that the people were smaller back then so I guess they needed less space, but the room was incredibly small and it made me so appreciative of my little apartment!

Look carefully for those wheel-tracks!

The structure of the city was well thought-out down to the stones in the street. 

When the streets were cleaned (and gross sewage washed down them), the people needed a way to cross to the other side without getting their feet covered in grossness. So these stones were put in along the streets every few yards. Because they were up higher, you could cross the street safely and cleanly by stepping on them. It was crazy to see how each was placed so that a cart and horse could still maneuver between them; I could see deep gouges in the rock that had been worn down by hundreds of carts passing in the same spot over the years.

Lead Pipes: The Downfall of the Roman Empire?

Even things as simple as the pipes running through the city blew me away. These have been here for thousands of years! They say that the lead pipes carried water to the homes of the ancient roman elite. The craziness of some of the emperors (Caligula, anyone?) could have been due to a concentration of lead in the pipes being 100 times greater than water from local springs. Crazy!

Look at that tiny little bed!

Take your pick ;)

The brothel was fascinating as well! As a port-city, the city was full of brothels (called Lupanar for the She-Wolves who resided there) which catered to an international crowd. The wolf-dens were small with few rooms, each of which was outfitted with a tiny stone bed- yes, stone. Not only does that sound ridiculously uncomfortable, but the beds were so teeny-tiny! I'm a short little person, and those beds looked too small even for me! Anyway, the walls were covered in frescos depicting... ahem... a 'menu' of sorts for customers to choose from when requesting their services- pretty convenient for those travelers arriving in the port-city who may not have known the local Latin! There is also ancient graffiti that, much like reviews on TripAdvisor, gave opinions of previous customers. It was pretty fascinating stuff!

The art hidden amongst the ruins was a tribute to the people's appreciation for beauty. Celings and walls were covered in colorful, chipped-away frescos in shades of blue and red. Like the cobblestones and the remnants of buildings, these provided another snapshot into ancient life. All throughout the buried city were these incredible bronze statues. At first I thought they were just well preserved works of art, but as it turns out they were much more recent works by Igor Mitoraj. I have to say, I was obsessed with them. Set against the ruins and the volcano, they were a very dramatic addition to the views. Many of the huge states appeared broken, but perfect at the same time. Somehow this made them seem intensely sad, and enhanced the solemn and awed mood I felt while exploring the ancient city.  The dichotomy of the old and new, broken and flawless, the current tranquility and history of catastrophe was overwhelming and moving. 

As glad as I am to get to see such a frozen moment in history, it was also a humbling moment that like many of my favorite travel experiences made me feel very small. 

The reason we can still visit the old city and actually see so much of how they lived was because the nearby volcano, Mount Vesuvius, erupted on August 24th, 79 AD, burying the city in a hurricane of ash as a mixture of lava and mud flow cascaded toward the nearby towns. The people were completely taken by surprise, as it had been labeled an extinct volcano for decades. For hundreds of years the city lay buried in between 13-20 feet of ash, which preserved the city in its last tragic moments. When experiencing new cultures and being surrounded by history, I always have the intense desire to learn more, but I found in this case that I was avoiding learning more about the actual eruption. While the culture fascinates me, when we came to the courtyard where you can view three plaster casts of frozen victims of the eruption (a man, a dog, and a child), I found that I couldn't look and had to walk away, crying. Seeing them makes it too real and too horrifying, and maybe it's immature to avoid the reality of the tragedy, but I can't think about it. I loved visiting Pompeii and would 100% recommend it to anyone visiting Italy.