Northern Lights, Brunost & Unexpected Adventures – A Winter Adventure in Norway

The Journey to Northern Norway

My friend Sigrid invites me to celebrate with her and a small group at her grandparents’ house in northern Norway. Since I don’t like flying, I take a long bus journey. After 15 hours by bus, 4 hours by train, and 2 hours by plane. We arrive in the north at sunrise – at 11 a.m. Getting outside the airport, I step on snow, and an icy breeze hits me. It’s -20°C (-4°F). Unlike the damp cold in Germany that seeps through layers of clothing, Nordic cold feels barely noticeable.

Discovering Brunost: Norway’s Iconic Brown Cheese

Sigrid’s father prepares breakfast for us with the traditional Norwegian "brown cheese" – Brunost. Brunost is an iconic Norwegian food, also recognized worldwide for its sweet and savory taste.

Its caramel note is unique. At first, it takes some getting used to – it tastes tangy like cheese, but as you eat it, a subtle sweetness unfolds, created by the caramelization of milk during the cooking process.

When I am about to cut a slice of cheese with a knife, there’s an outcry around the table. How could I! A cheese slicer is immediately handed to me. After all, Norwegians – specifically the carpenter Thor Bjørklund – invented the cheese slicer for perfectly even slices. The cheese’s flavor unfolds fully only when it’s cut thin; slicing it too thick with a knife ruins the delicate aroma. Every country has its own unique cheese traditions.

A House Like a Christmas Museum

Sigrid’s father’s house feels like a Christmas museum. Wherever you look, there are Christmas decorations: red-clad gnomes, antique dolls in red dresses, red glass ornaments. His wife, an artist, displays her creations throughout the house. Batik paintings, clay figures, and hand-made vases and lamps adorn every corner. I spend hours admiring the artwork while the sun sets just after midday. I look out the window at the snow covered mountains in the distance and feel a longing for a place like this to live, surrounded by nature, only a few people, silence.

The Kindness of Strangers: Our Car Breakdown Adventure

Our journey takes us further north – in an old car borrowed from Sigrid’s uncle. Two hours of driving lie ahead. The wind whips up the snow, and a storm begins to form.

I am behind the wheel when the car suddenly slows down. Following the display’s instructions, I shift gears up and down, press the gas, but nothing happens except smoke rising from the hood.

“Everyone out of the car!” I shout, recalling too many movies where cars explode in such situations. In the headlights, steam with a burnt rubber smell rises into the icy night.

At that moment, several cars stop – even from the opposite direction. The drivers get out and help us figure out the problem. I am touched and surprised by the humanity and helpfulness of the Norwegians. I rarely experience such support from strangers.

We find out that the clutch has been broken for months, and the car isn’t even roadworthy. With Sigrid’s father’s help, we are towed and safely brought to our destination. It’s a relief that we broke down near civilization – a few kilometers further, and we would have been stranded in the middle of nowhere.

During these days, we are incredibly lucky. Just a few days before, it had been raining, and no lights were visible. But upon our arrival, the world is blanketed in snow, and the sky gifts us with the first northern lights.

Whale Meat and Moral Dilemmas: A Culinary Experience

Our days are simple. After breakfast, we go for walks to catch a few hours of daylight. By 2 p.m., it is already dark, so we spend the afternoons playing cards and preparing traditional Norwegian dinners.

One evening, I am faced with something I never thought I’d try: whale meat. I am skeptical at first. Yet here, in the mountains, where the sea right in front of our house provides sustenance, it feels appropriate. If not here, then where?

In our part of the world, there would be an outcry – how could anyone eat whale? But in traditional Norwegian cuisine, whale meat is a rare yet historically significant dish, particularly in remote regions.

A few days later, I visit on a goat farm and ask myself why we react so strongly to the idea of eating whale, while slaughtering goats – especially baby goats – is normal to us. One whale equals hundreds of goat lives. What is morally right? Simply what we are used to?

Who are we to judge other cultures for practices we deem unacceptable, just because we have different values? We eat cows that are sacred in India. We keep dogs that are eaten in China. We try to save endangered animals that are delicacies elsewhere, while killing millions of others we deem less valuable.

With this thought, I let go of judgment and choose to accept the experience with gratitude.

The whale meat tastes like a cross between beef and liver. Lightly seared, it is served with potatoes and a gravy made from the meat juices. It is a unique experience I might not repeat, but in this moment, it is unforgettable.

On the last evening, Sigrid prepares Lutefisk – a traditional Christmas dish, typically made from cod soaked in a lye solution of beech or birch ash. It is served with potatoes, pea purée, fried bacon, pepper, and grated brunost (brown cheese). Sigrid is incredibly proud to prepare this dish for the first time and to share this tradition with her friends.

The combination of ingredients creates an explosion of flavors that cannot be compared to anything else. Still, it is an amazingly delicious dish, especially when accompanied by Aquavit.

Before coming here, I was afraid of the darkness. In the winter months, my body seems to shut down completely, leaving me unable to accomplish much. But here, where the long nights are a normal part of life, a sense of coziness settles in.

Perhaps, I think, this would be a good place to live – far from the pressures of life, the constant need to move forward, to create something extraordinary, to always stay in motion to avoid sinking. This relentless drive is something I embodied through my past relationship, but instead of fueling me with energy, it has left my system in constant stress.

A New Year, A Blank Slate: Embracing Solitude

Two days after our arrival, the year transitions into a new one. Dressed in ski suits, we head out into the darkness and meet neighbors with an impressive arsenal of fireworks to bid farewell to the past year.

As the clock strikes midnight and the first rockets explode in the sky, a dam of tears bursts within me. I feel myself letting go of the past year – and with it, a relationship that I thought would never end. I let go of a person I believed I would spend my life with. I am stepping into the new year, alone, with only myself. A blank slate.

I feel sorrow and pain for what I went through, fear of the unknown, gratitude, and joy for all the support I have received in the months following my breakup. I feel thankful for the chance to be with my friends and, most importantly, with myself, experiencing the world around me without fear of anger or humiliation.

In the darkness, no one can see the tears streaming down my face, and my sobs are drowned out by the crackling of fireworks.

Between Self-Reflection and Pain: An Unexpected Lesson in Snowy Norway

On the morning of the second day of the new year, I wake up before the others and head out for a walk. In the past weeks, I have constantly been surrounded by people. I long for silence and a moment alone with my thoughts.

At a spot near the sea, I remember Sigrid’s warning from the previous day – it’s dangerous there, as one can sink into hidden snow holes.

In the solitude and stillness of winter, I meet a man with his dog, who, as I learn, moved from Berlin to this tiny village of 30 people. I envy his courage. We talk, and he shows me a trail, warning me again about the snow holes.

Full of confidence, I move ahead – only to fall into a snow hole a few meters further. My ankle twists, and pain shoots through my foot. I pull myself together and manage to get home safely.

Later, I join the others for sledding, but by evening, I can no longer walk due to the pain. I spend the rest of the week limping or using crutches.

I wonder why my body is forcing me to stop, especially at a moment when I’ve decided to slow down and be present with myself.

Moose Encounters and Northern Lights: Norway’s Final Gifts

We arrived without expectations and experienced an incredible adventure. Every day, we got blessed with stunning displays of color in the sky – something I’ve wished to see for years.

One thing was missing, though: seeing moose. Every day, we found tracks in the snow, but we didn't encounter any.

As we’re driving back to the airport, several moose appear by the roadside, staring at us curiously. I even see a stag, proudly carrying its antlers. Seeing moose in Norway becomes the final special moment of our trip.

This week in Norway is one of the greatest gifts I’ve received in a long time. It’s a sign that life can exist without fear and stress. A life where kindness and support exist. A life where wishes can come true – if we open ourselves to it without judgment and expectations.

Be well,

Vaselisa