Kristiansand, Norway

Zagan the motorhome’s valiantly fending off rain and thunder, sat beside the old military gym on Odderøya, an ex-naval base island which last saw action in WW2, in a futile attempt to fight off German invading forces. It costs 110NOK to stay here for 24 hours, in a small parking area by a beach (N58.139174, E8.001993), in easy walking distance of the town of Kristiansand. We shared it with three other campers who left during the night, presumably taking ferries south from the port town. It’s a lovely spot, urban Norwegians (if there is such a thing) have it good when it comes to having such places so close by.

The view from our parking place in Kristiansand

Odderøya Island. We’re parked behind the grey box to the left, behind the yellow boxes

Ju and I spent yesterday trying to see the world from each other’s perspectives. Language feels like a stone-age tool when it comes to describing emotion and feeling, even when trying to articulate your own inner-sensations. Ju and I have been together for over a decade, and are continuing to discover aspects of each other’s personality. Perhaps being ‘enclosed’ in such a small space for so long together, and perhaps the steady but continual exposure to new circumstances brings out things which we might never learn in a ‘normal’ life?

Being on Pulpit Rock was a revelation to me. I’m not afraid of heights. I’ve bungee jumped, tried hand-gliding (no wind that day, need to try again), flown a light aircraft and stood on some of Europe’s most incredible viewpoints, getting a good buzz from it, but (apart from a second on my first bungee = SCREEAAAAAMMMMM), no primal fear. Same up on Pulpit, although I couldn’t sit on the edge of the thing, as soon as I was a few metres from it, I felt perfectly safe. But seeing Ju sat on the edge of the cliff was a different sensation. The longer she stayed there, the deeper the feeling of utter dread within me. As she twisted and turned to take photos she fell a thousand times, disappearing down the impossibly high wall with a scream, taking with her my sanity. While Ju enjoyed the sensational, raw beauty of the place, I felt raw pain. I can’t look at the photos.

When she finally came back from the edge (after all of a few minutes), understandably thrilled at what she’d done (she wasn’t expecting to be able to get that close), I was in a bad place but unable to quite get across how I felt. I tried, and made a mess of it, all clumsy anger. When she suggested going back to the edge for another photo, I couldn’t cope, and had to leave. I again tried to explain to Ju what it had felt like, again doing a poor job of it. What I was saying didn’t make sense. In such a beautiful place, I saw horror. I saw Ju holding a part-loaded gun to her head, spinning the barrel and pulling the trigger, laughing each time she hit an empty chamber. I was mortified, and my fear, and shame of my fear, came across as anger.

Enough though. It’s taken us a couple of days but I think we’ve managed to see each other’s view. We’ve gently agreed that if we go into a situation like that again, we’ll talk beforehand. Ju knew she wanted to get close to the edge, and if I’d have known that before, I would have probably pleaded with her not to. Of course, that would have stripped her of quite an extra-ordinary experience, but I would have begged her nevertheless. I love Ju, we’re inter-twined, our lives and fates twisted beautifully together. Anything I have I would surrender to keep that, I’ll do nothing to risk it, anything to sustain it.

Once we’d gone through the mill, we recharged in Kristiansand, walking the calm, newly landscaped waterfront, feeling wrung out but relaxed and safe. Concrete rules in this city, concrete and glass. The repeated infernos that consumed the wood have spread the streets too, widening them each into a fire break, giving the place an airy feel. Ju had read about a good-value fast food place in the city, and we ambled along to it, sat among silent munching locals, tucking into a burger for Ju (with everything on it, which she NEVER HAS, she likes her food plain, doesn’t she?) and meatballs for me. “Would you like brown sauce with them, and jam?” asked the lady serving us, as I imagined how An Idiot Abroad would answer “Brown sauce? Gravy? You mean Gravy don’t you? Not HP or Daddies? And what do you mean, Jam? Jam, wimme meatballs and mash, Jam? What’s t’world coming to!?”

Fast food in Kristiansand

The food was delicious, and by Norwegian standards good value (85Nok, £8.50 for a burger, no fries). Yep, you know when you’ve been in Norway too long when some of the slightly-less outrageously expensive stuff starts to feel like a bargain. With a bit more street-staring on the way back we headed for Zagan, watched a mindless movie and hit the sack. The rain’s stopped now, so I’m going to abandon ship and go get some fishing done while Ju sleeps. We’ve Oslo in our sights, and I’m thinking this my be my last chance to stick more fillets in the freezer.

A ferry to Harwich in the 1990s, would be handy these days too!

Kristiansand Fortress

We see the odd micro-car dotted around Europe. Do folks have these in the UK? They seem to be registered on motorbike license plates and have tiny engines.

That’s one way to move house.

Cheers folks, give each other a big hug from us you lovely people, Jay

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