Friday, December 11, 2009
I was born December 8th 1949. I was blessed to be the first and a wanted child. Since this autumn has been extremely exhausting, with our house turned upside down, due to renovating, I decided to celebrate with only my nearest and dearest; Gunnar and Serina. We sneaked off to the city of our liking; Bergen.
Somehow my bestest must have found us, I don't know how, because a couple of hours after we arrived, this parcel was delivered at the hotel. Champagne and glasses in a nice bouquet, exquisite confection and even a gift card for coaching lessons. Wow. If you take a close look, I had tear in my eyes.
No time for waiting; The celebration started at 08oo p.m. the seventh and didn't stop until 0800 p.m. Decmber the 10th.
With three loaded cameras we started out next morning.
The Church of St. Mary is a must.
I know, I know; I should have photoshopped. Maybe some other day.
Such a peaceful quarter of the town.
Serina taking a break with her Dad's newest love; Cannon Eos 7D.
At the Bryggen Museum we met one of Gunnar's forefathers. The picture talks for itself about genes and the likes.
Lots of items found in layer under layer at the Hansa Brygge sites.
Christmas in the old city.
The Gingerbread City. Made twice through a huge common effort from kindergartens to high tech companies. It was completely crashed by a poor boy last week. Creating headlines greater than those of Obama and his peace-price.The Bergeners didn't mourn for even a day, before they set out to make a new Gingerbread town. As you will see it's placed so low, to be at eye level for the preschool children.
Walking and watching made us hungry.
A room at the top floor with quite a view.
Serina didn't complain for a second during three days of walking through new and older art. An art dive for hungry souls.
Kitty Kielland painted my Mother's Jaeren more than hundred years ago. My mother and her family also had to do hard work in the turf moors to find fuel for the winter.
From Joelster at the end of the Sognefjord, longest fjord in Norway, the painter Astrup lived with his wife and children, also a hundred years ago. He was poor, had lots of children,- and a lovely wife, but managed to share love of nature and family in a magic way.
The apex of our celebration was December 9th in the Grieg Hall. Conductor and soloists famous from Metropolitan, Covent Garden performed Beetoven's 9th Symphony; To Joy.
I hope I never get so senile, that I'll forget those magic hours.I humbly thank blogfriends, local friends, family and the great God for making these days unforgettable .