Friday, August 29, 2008
The town and the island are siblings, connected by a bridge. The town thinks she's more modern and sophisticated than the island.
The island knows she posses the roots, the culture and the beaches.
I enjoy the mixed company. This summer more than ever. Due to sickness we have stayed home, vacating in our immediate neighborhood. It has not been bad at all.
The last days before Serina went off to college we cruised along late nights and early mornings with a thermos, photoshooting. I with my cellphone, Serina with her SLR cam.
The Bay Of Whales, our best next door destination.
The nights have grown darker, but the warmth of summer still lingers on.
Nevertheless; a nice cuppa coffee helps towards midnight.Shopping rest in the main street.
We are hard on the double espressos.
Second week of August Christa came to stay all the way from Schliersee in the German Alps.
We have been friends since she worked a year in Norway back in 1970, and have followed each other ever since.
The vulgar-posh town was in between Herring-jazz and film festival, so her galleries and churches were closed to prepare new exhibitions. The island has built The North-Way History Center midst among ancient King graves and the Medieval Church.
Christa very much liked to visit our stone age-viking collection.
No horns on their helmets emphasizes the guide.
On Island of Rams is a "real"viking farm. School kids are having camps here, learning ancient methods of burning tar, building with wood nails, weaving, spinning, cooking.
Christa and the five foolish virgins. They actually are menhir stones from the time of the druids, but as Christianity won, the old stones got biblical names.
They were not removed though. One did not feel quite sure about the strength of White Christ.
Daisies is English, Mille Fleurs in French, Thousand-Joys in Norwegians. That's one of my nicknames for Serina.
Night south of Bay of Whales
Me, I guess, facing town.The island, Karmey is 35 kilometers long. Down at the southern peak Skudesnes, with authentic white wood houses built for the tall ship owners and captains at the end of the eighteen hundreds.
Their descendants still live and thrive in these narrow idyll.
These streets belong to my favorite places on earth.
Serina and I was here, so was Christa and I, and late one night Gunnar and I had a slow stroll through South Street of Skudesnes.
Serina of course went raiding in the small shops there. This old lady made all of her goods herself, knitting and sewing. Serina bought a green and violet cap. Just what a young girl need.Here once was a thriving industry, sailmakers, fishsalters, barrel makers, rope braiders, smiths,- the lots.
The founder of the fog horn factory is embraced by Serina.
Like any town of class old Skudesnes had and still have its park.
Not any park has a moon stone though.Double click to read. Any picture on my blog may be enlarged this way.
Young Jane climbing to actually touch the moon stone.
The park ends here. Convenient viewpoint over the sea for the old captains' wives, scouting for white sails afar.My monkey girl was not contented with the view, so she climbed down the rock side. I could barely bend over the stone fence to take this pic.
Sky and Sea is the name of a little cafe. To honor Jim I'm posting these homemade Belgian Chocolate confectionery. These were the last for that day. Fresh would be made next morning.There were absolutely jammy with the double espressos.
The best beach on the island. This day it was crowded, but weekdays and evenings one can have the sand all alone.
We were eating, drinking water and coffe while reading crime novels. What a day.
Gunnar one late evening in The South Street.
Lots of cats are lazy watching us go by.These kids were at a wedding and therefor allowed to play alone in the street.
So peaceful, you would never believe.
Gunnar resting in front of the Fog Horn Factory.
Outdoor restaurant at the waterfront.
Gunnar having a great time.
Flower dress meets The Lady of The Park. The Lady being a former figurehead of a tall-shop.
One night we went to the island again.
This time to the Saint Olav Church to listen to The Orthodox Singers from Estonia.Four girls and four men filled the church with unbelievable choir music in honor of Saint Olav, who's memorial day it was.
The church was restoered two centuries ago. This door handle have I but only seen in Greece.
Outside the church is a huge bauta (menhir) stone.
The druids again. Old cult places were taken over by the Christians, so that no one could worship the old gods there.
The stone is called Virgin Mary's sewing needle.
The saying goes; if the needle touches the church wall, domesday will come. One can see the old priests were anxios to postbone that event. On the inside they have cut off the stone as it moved.
Saint Olav's Church from south side.
A lilly for aunt Lilly who has been hospitalized for six weeks now.
Sundown at Harald Fairhaired's memorial.
This is how they thought Harald's ship looked like when he gathered Norway to one kingdom.
Opposite view from the memorial. A lighthouse and sheep grassing amongst the ancient graves hills.
Oilplatform in the shipyard in the background. A tired, but lucky Gunnar up front.