Half a day. Half a day in a city I’ve never been to before. Who plans an itinerary like that?
Yet there I was, at the bottom of Mount Fløyen, rolling my eyes as I answered my own question. Me. I had a 5:00pm flight to catch out of Bergen, Norway, and I only arrived in Bergen the night before on the Bergen Railway. Changing my flight was out of the question as it would lead to a domino effect of extra costs that I wasn’t ready to afford. My eyes careened backwards into their sockets once more.
I had decided that I would spend my morning at Mount Fløyen, one of seven mountains that surround the city centre of Bergen. There are plenty of activities to be had on Mount Fløyen, with several walking trails to cater to anyone’s fancy, but I would only have time to take the Fløibanen funicular from the center of Bergen to the top and take a leisurely stroll back down the mountain. As the funicular rumbled and rolled into the station at the base of the mountain, I hopped in, determined to make the best out of whatever time I had.
It was winter and it was early in the morning, so there was hardly anyone else on the journey with me and I could be a picky-seater. Where possible, I’d recommend grabbing a seat at the back of the Fløibanen on your way up if you would like to have front row seats to the emerging view of the city. As the trees and quaint houses sailed past and the rail tracks converged into the distance from below, views of Bergen city peeked out at me from afar. Besides being a tourist attraction, the Fløibanen also serves residents living on the slopes of the mountain, stopping at a couple of stations on the way up for them to get on and off.
It took just about 7-8 minutes for the funicular to climb to the top, at 320 meters above sea level. I stepped out of the Fløibanen and was greeted with a sweeping, panoramic view of the city sprawled before my eyes. You could see Vågen, the central harbour of the city center where Bryggen – a series of Hanseatic commercial wharf buildings and also a UNESCO World Heritage Site – lies along. Look further towards the horizon and you could also see the mountains that surround Bergen, and Byfjorden, the fjord that flows through and around the city.
I hoisted up my Olympus EPL-5 and began snapping away happily at the view, albeit trigger-too-happy – most of the photos look the same (Haha!), like they belonged to Photo Hunt archives. Still, pleased with my photographic endeavors, I wandered away from the observation deck past the souvenir shop, and was stopped in my tracks by a huge, bald-headed troll.
Have you watched Disney’s animated feature, Frozen? I thought trolls are supposed to be small and adorable?! Or did Walt deceive me again, like how he once got me convinced that I was born a princess?
This bald troll was definitely not adorable; it was hauntingly hideous and had a sinister grin that never quite reached its eyes. Its head cocked to its side, as though taunting me to venture further into the forest around him. I took out my selfie stick and brandished it like a sword in the troll’s face before stepping past him into the woods. Princess Jasmine ain’t afraid of no trolls.
I walked between the trees, boots sinking into mud and moss while a thick canopy of trees towered above me, all eager to consume me whole. The tree roots – spindly, thick, and intertwining – were constantly trying to trip me over as if to deter me from exploring further. What IS this place? A flash of red caught my eye and I whirled around to see who, or what, it was. In the shadowy distance, a girl stood unmoving among the tall coniferous trees, shrouded in a red cape that covered her from head to toe. Was it… no, it couldn’t be… or could it be… Little Red Riding Hood?
Nope, it was a troll with bright red hair. My eyes were playing tricks on me. I dived behind a pile of stones, hoping that the redhead did not spot me. The Grimm bros mentioned that trolls eat humans, and I wasn’t about to let myself become food for lunch. A sudden flash of white in my peripheral vision – what now? I whirled around again, only to see the creepy backview of a figure with long hair as white as fresh snow. Gandalf? Wait, isn’t Middle-earth, like, in New Zealand? I took a few steps forward to have a better look at maybe-Gandalf. Nope, just another troll lurking in the woods.
The Forest does really strange things to you. After awhile, I didn’t just imagine fictional characters – I started to believe I was a troll. It was as if the forest cursed me to become one. I mimicked their movements, their expressions, their hi-threes. Maybe Baldy Troll was grinning because he knew this would happen.
I had to get out of there. Pronto.
I scrambled out of the forest and spotted a sign that pointed back to the city, which was a leisurely 40-minutes walk downhill. It was almost noon, and the winter sun dipped low in the sky, casting a soft orange glow in and around the forest. The path down was steep and winding and I had to tread carefully lest I fell – didn’t quite fancy falling and rolling my way down, face picking up gravel along the way. Now, the walking path was easy to navigate, but I was still worried that I’d get lost like Hansel and Gretel and bump into some crazy, old witch living in a candy house. As if the forest could listen to my thoughts, I spotted a “No Photos Of The Witch” sign nailed ominously to a tree trunk. First, trolls, and now witches???
Even though I was innately aware that the amusing signs must have been put up to make the walk down Mount Fløyen a little more fun, I found my eyes darting furtively around, half-expecting to see a broomstick fly through the trees or a pointy, black hat peeping out from behind the bushes.
Apparently, there was an invisible witch hunter, too. Another sign read “Please Don’t Disturb The Invisible Witch Hunter”. Which made me wonder – since the witch hunter was obviously invisible (I love oxymorons), it meant that I couldn’t see him, or her, to begin with, so how I would ever know if I was disturbing him, or her? 🙂 I believe someone was trying to be cheeky with words!
Trolls, witches and a running imagination aside, the stroll down Mount Fløyen was a beautiful one, where the paths were flanked by a mix of pine and winter-barren trees with arms that reached towards the sky. The view of Bergen through the trees, the quiet sounds of gravel crunching beneath my boots with each step, the smell of fresh winter air and the much-welcomed sun rays caressing my face… there was something almost magical about the place.
If you ever have a few days, or even half a day, in Bergen, I’d definitely recommend making a trip out to Mount Fløyen. I may not have had a lot of time as I would have liked, but as it turned out, I had a good time at Mount Fløyen nonetheless.
As travelers, we must learn to make do with what we have, or don’t, and have fun anyway, wouldn’t you agree? All you need is an open mind.
And perhaps, just a little imagination. 🙂
Keep Calm & Jas Travel 
Isn’t Norway beautiful? 🙂
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Such a great read Jasmine!! I agree with your description of the Pinocchio-like troll completely 🙂
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Hi Tamara, sorry for the late reply and thanks for your comment! Yessss the troll has a long nose too haha! ‘Pinocchio’ is a good one! 🙂
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