Caffe Avec

Solvorn, near Sognefjorden, Norway

Text and images Britt-Arnhild Wigum Lindland

 

When I started my Caffe Avec-blog I wanted it to be a blog for travels. A place where I, and you, could sit down, enjoy some coffee and may be a cake together, and talk about travels. Running more than one blog properly has proved to be a task beyond my ability, so most of the time Caffe Avec has been quiet......and very, very lonely.

 

I still have a dream to make it my travel blog though, and one day I know I will succeed.

For the moment I can at least post a few of my caffe avec-posts both at Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods and at Caffe Avec.......

....and a morning at the tiny little Norwegian village of Solvorn, near Sognefjorden, might be a good choice for both blogs.

 
Solvorn, with its white painted houses, is a place where time seem to stand still. A place where you automatically slow down your steps, you stop to smell the roses, or to look at the tiny little ferry when it comes in and the few cars in the queue have to board backwards to make the unboarding on the other side of the fjord easier.

 

We came to Solvorn to spend our anniversary night at Walaker Hotel. We left Solvorn many hours later refreshed, blessed, filled with beauty and serenity.

 

My creativity chest, my basket for travel tales, fastly fills up. Sweetly nourished by a few kisses behind a red wall. Not troll kisses this time.

What a blessing that places like this still excist.

A place to charge your battery.

A place to remember.

 
Looking in. Looking out.

It doesn't really matter.

 
It do matters though how you live your life.

How you spend what you have been given.

 
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The coffee is finished, the cake all eaten.

Thanks you for sharing a few minutes of your time with me.

 

Coffee at the bottom of the Castle Hill

Text and images Britt-Arnhild Wigum Lindland

I am in Tønsberg, the oldest city of Norway.

Spring is late in Norway this year, and after a long, cold winter I am eagerly looking for spring along my paths. Sp I did yesterday morning, and from coffee near the canal my walk took me up to the castle hill.

The morning mist was about to leave. I got my photos, the next moment the sun was shining brightly.

 

On the way up the hill I passed a statue. Princess Kristina I read.

750 years ago there was a young girl living here, Princess Kristina, the daughter of King Håkon Håkonsson. In 1256 a group of men came from Spain all the way up to Norway to seek out this beautiful girl. The Spanish King Alfonso the Wise wanted Princess Kristina as a wife for his brother.

I found a simple bench where I could sit down, resting my back against the old castle wall stones. There, with my face towards the sun, I opened my diary. The shining silver amongst the grey path stones created themselves into words, a reflection, thoughts speaking directly to my heart.

Bosnian Coffee

There is something about coffee. Not that I can say it tastes nice, or yummy or anything. More like gold, like being together, sharing thoughts, stories, memories.

Coffee in Norway is different from coffee in Italy, in France, in Eritrea......

....yes, let's talk about Eritrea. I have visited the country twice and both times I've been invited for coffee. An honor. Which takes a long, long time, starting with the burning of the coffee beans. I have a collection of Eritrean clay coffee pots. Every time I look at them I am reminded of a country, a people, friends, drinking coffee together.

In Sarajevo we were met by Bosnian coffee, influenced by the Arabs, just like they are in Eritrea. Coming into the basar at night was like walking into 1001 Nights. We ended our dinner with coffee, and felt like staying on, listening to stories. Well, if not 1001 of them, at least a whole coffee pot full.

It took me no time to realize that my Eritrea coffee pot collection needed company by a Bosnian set, a round plate, two small cups, a smal kind of pot and bowl or saucer for the sugar, or the Turkish delight......

 

In the basar there were at least 1001 different designs to choose among. Hard to decide which one to buy.

A plate for a coffee set in progress, made by a local artist.

Night two in Sarajevo ended with coffee as well, how could it not. It's lika a fairytale, isn't it..... Can you see us, in the deepest corner....the corner where tales are told.....

Coffee......a drink for the Gods......and luckily for you and  me as well.

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How is it, do you have a coffee tale to share? I will make myself a cup of coffee, I will make one for you as well, and we can sit down for a chat.

Coffee near Nidaros Cathedral

You don't have to travel far to be a traveler. My bookshelves are often my best destination to spend a week-end or a night, my kitchen is a place where I can travel around the world with the help of cookbooks, my garden is where I travel to paradise....

.......but most of all my home city, where I live, love and work, is also the place on earth I most often love to explore.

A cup of coffee, like this morning outside Nidaros Cathedral, watching the tourists, reading about Trondheim, or about the rest of the world.

 

A traveler is an artist, I love to practice this art.

Coffee with Miss Garnet in Venice

This time I did not bring with me Sally Vicker's Miss Garnet's angel, a book I usually read every time I go to Venice. I didn't need to bring it, I know the book all so well.....

I did not bring the book, but I met Miss Garnet herself.

She was sitting at a small coffee table in one of the many piazzas in Venice, with the shadow of one of Venice's hundreds of churches falling over her. When I spotted her I looked for a free table close to hers and there I sat down with my cappuccino.

Miss Garnet was painting when I first saw her. Something shapeless in bleak colours. A small woman, few colours, moving like a sparrow. Her palette was most of all grey, at first sight. But as I sat there, breathing in a sacred moment, her pelette changes, into something eternal.

 After a while she finished her painting, carefully she packed away her paintbox and her brushes, a pen and a bottle of ink. With even more care she used water from her water bottle to remove colours and inkstains from her hands.

Miss Garnet was not alone. Another British nameless miss sat next to her, helping Miss Garnet to pack away her things, giving a helping hand to remove an extra sustainable inkstain.

When her job was done Miss Garnet found her little diary and wrote a couple of pages. Then a few postcards. The nameless one licked the stamps and glued them on the cards.

I sat there, mezmerised, wishing with all my heart that I could be able to read Miss Garnet's words, even wanting a copy of her painting. I would frame it and hang it in my studio to praise the women of this world who walk the paths less travelled.

The women who let their grey hair grow and the women who colours their hair - not because the world tells them to, but because they have made their own desicions. The women who travel the world with an open mind, with their heart into what they do, and what they do is always what their heart tells them to do.......

 

I had finished my cappuccino now, but I couldn't make myself to leave my table.The two old ladies left theirs eventually. While passing my chair Miss Garnet looked at me, offering a secret smile, and then a blink with her left eye - as she knew my thoughts and wanted to let me know that we are allies along the path.

 
I kind of collect coffee table stories. Not actually planned, but looking back through my blog I see that I have quite a few of them.

Photos: all photos except the last one are from Italy. The last one is from The Blue Garden.

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Miss Garnet's Angel is a book my Salley Vickers, set in Venice

 

Baroniet Rosendal.The only Manor House in Norway

The delay of our visit to Flor & Fjære turned our pland a little upside down. We had planned dinner on the flower island on the night of our wedding anniversary, instead we ended up with lunch the next day........which meant that we would be way too late for dinner the next night at the lovely Manor Baroniet Rosendal.

I phoned the Manor to tell them about our changes and asked: "I know we will  be too late for dinner, but will it be possible to get some food when we come? Just some bread and cheese or something?" The young girl I spoked with reassured me; "No problem madam. I will make some food for you and leave it in the fridge"

We were tired after a long day on Flor & Fjære, then hours of driving, and came to Rosendal late. What a lovely surprise then to find plates of art, real art, in the fridge. I sat the table for two, plates, glasses, cutlery, napkins, and the art.......which was made to be eaten. Salmon, vegetables, homemade bread, salami and tomatoes. Pure cold Norwegian spring water.

A meal shared by two people loving each other.

Heaven on earth.

 
Avlshuset at Baroniet Rosendal belongs to the group of historical hotels I call The Wooden hotels of Norway. Most of these are found along the western coast of the country. Terje and I visit one of them every summer, a link to posts about our other visits can be found on the right board on my blog.

  We would love to have had a full dinner at the Manor, but then we would have missed our art meal for two.

I am learning over and over again that I can not have it all, and it is for me to make what I am given The Best!

And there is no doubt. Breakfast the next morning really was The Best.

How I would love to gather all of you here for a blog party breakfast:-) Would you come?

Here is a link to Baroniet Rosendal.   

Enjoy your visit.

Coffee in Baroniet Rosendal's Garden House

Somewhere on the western coast of Norway you find The Manor Baroniet Rosendal. The only manor in Norway is now open to public. We visited there last week, stayed over night in Avlsgården and spent next morning walking in the rosegarden, following a guided tour inside the manor, ending up with coffee in the green house.

Not easy to decide what to eat.......

.......but in the end I couldn't resist the chocolate cake.

To pamper oneself in Copenhagen

Copenhagen has always been kind of exotic for us Norwegians. Once Kongens By (the King's City) when Norway and Denmark were gathered as one country, now the city has a taste of the big world.

Somehow it is always time for some coffee, or tea if you prefere, and one afternoon has room for visiting several coffee houses.

I fell for Café Antoinette during my last visit. It was quiet there right before closing time, perfect to sit down with my travel diary, writing down memories from hours of walking around.

For more Copenhagen stories, take a look here.

Skyr, the sweet life in Reykjavik

A short week in Reykjavik sent me out to several handfuls of restaurants and coffee shops. You find them at every corner. Some of the worldwide chains ok, but they are easy to pass by. When I travel I am looking for the local feel, and it could easily be found. I feasted in fish and seafood, and every day I allowed myself at least one dessert or cake......always containing skyr, the delicious yoghurtlike concoction made from pasteurised skimmed milk. Low on fat, rich on taste.

Reykjavik is not like any other city. Since the time of the first Norwegian settlers, which arrived from 870 till 939, probably blown off course en rout to the Faraoes, it has lived its own life, developed a worn charm. Walking around, a little off from where most tourists go, my camera was busy, my memoery chest filling up fast.

.....and always a skyr refreshment was waiting.....

 
Skyr, seafood and windows became part of my Reykjavik days.......

........I never tired of it. If I had though, I would have visited Bæjarins Besti and asked for a hotdog. Here is what Lonely Planet writes about it:

...the pýlsur (hot dog) is the fuel of modern Iceland. Hot dogs are for sale in every petrol station and fast food kiosk......Locals in Reykjavik reckon the world's greatest hotdogs come from Bæjarins Bestu, a busy hotdog stand opposite the Kolaportid fleamarket. Rumour insists that they's so delicious because they're cooked in beer......

I never tried them, but had another skyr cake instead :-)

 

Afternoon Tea, with Style! The Goring Hotel.

"I would like to invite you to Afternoon Tea while we are in London, what do you think of that?" "Afternoon Tea???????" Terje and the girls looked at me, three pairs of eyes filled with question marks. "Yes, come here and have a look at The Goring Hotel website"

While they looked I did my best to teach them about the lovely British Afternoon Tea tradition. Not that I've tried it very often, as a matter of fact, the only real experience I have of it is from The Plaza in New York, where an online friend took me for High Afternoon Tea, with champagne, harp music and everything, in 2002. I do have alot of reading experience though, from Jane Austen, Beatrix Potter, Anthony Trollope, Susan Howatch and their like.

Terje and the girls were a little hesitant. "You know,I don't drink tea" Marta said, "This is quite expensive" - well, Terje didn't actually say that, but I am sure he wanted to, "If you really want to invite us mamma, I am in" Ingrid beamed at me.

"Yes, I really want" I looked at them all smiling, and then made myself busy booking online a table for four.

I had been on a "just me walk" to see The Old Curiosity Shop and to fill another bag of books from a special travel book store, and came to the hotel some minutes before the others. In the lobby I spotted a desk and some beautiful The Goring Hotel stationary. Just perfect to sit down and write a letter to Carolyn.

 As soon as the last word in the letter was written the others arrived, and we were shown to our table, laid with beautiful silver and china.

The girls felt a little awkward at first......this is not actually us, we are just an ordinary family, how do we do this....... The charming atmosphere, the friendly staff, the food,.......well, it all made them relax pretty fast and we could all sit back and enjoy a couple of very pleasant hours.

And who wouldn't, with food like this.......

We also started to enjoy looking at and listening to the party at our neighbour table. Five ladies, probably old friends, had tea together. After finishing eating they all brought out a parcel from their purse, all fancifully wrapped. "Will you please do us a favour" one of them asked the waiter,"take these five gifts and give them to us at random". The waiter happily did what he was asked, and then he was given a sixth small gift from one of the ladies. "Oh, why didn't they ask me to give out the gifts"  Ingrid shouted. "Then the sixth gift would have been mine......."

Back at our hotel, late at night, I showed the girls a brochure I'd found at The Goring. Together we looked at the bedrooms, the suites........together we agreed that we could easily, very easily, adapt to a life as tourists staying at this lovely hotel. At least for a week-end.........a week.......a month.........a.......

Soon, too soon, our afternoon at The Goring was over.......

 .......and we were off to Mamma Mia!

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I am back in Norway.......and I am dreaming.........of a week-end at The Goring. I am completely sure I would fit right in and I would love every single minute:-)

Thank you Staff at The Goring for your friendliness and your hospitality, you gave us a memorable afternoon.

PS or afterscript - when we flew home I asked Terje, Ingrid and Marta what was the highlight of the days in London. Blinking to each other they all shouted: The Afternoon Tea at Goring! I knew they were teasing me, just as well as I know that deep in their heart they spoke the truth.