It could be sharper, I know, but give me a break; this was taken from a plane, into the sun, at quite a sharp angle (looking backwards relative to the direction of travel), through a window half covered with little slivers of ice. Those apologies aside… I’m kinda happy with this one. Some shots you just get lucky with.
Any day in Bergen on which it isn’t chucking it down with rain is worth recording. After the end of my workshop today I walked out to the tip of the Nordnes peninsula, which splits the city harbour into two, and took this shot. I like it because of the odd configuration of his hands (he barely seems to be holding the rod), the hood, and the fact that for once, despite being taken right into the sun, there is no flare in the lens.
Post-lunch pickings on the second day of the staff development workshop I have been running at the University of Bergen. The strawberries and pineapple slices have disappeared, the grapes are going down well but no one seems to be going for the lychees. This is the second disembodied hand of the week, I note.
Travelled last night from Trondheim to Bergen. I do like Bergen, it is a fine city, but it’d be even better if it didn’t chuck it down with rain about 75% of the time.
Could have posted more pictures of glorious autumn colours here in Trondheim but I did that yesterday, and this book has personal significance.
I got to know the work of Machiavelli when I studied for my PhD in Politics back in the latter years of the 1990s. As part of my work here I was taken (with several others) round the special collections of the Gunnerus Library at NTNU and here am being shown an edition of Machiavelli’s complete works from 1550 (hence the M D L at the bottom of the page), published while he was still alive and in extraordinarily good condition. The book may well become largely obsolete as an active information medium over the next 20 years but the tactile and visual appeal of them, particularly old ones, will never go away.
Incidentally only those who haven’t actually read him think that M. was a fascist. Actually he was the man who reintroduced Greek ideas of democracy into the Middle Ages and basically founded the whole political wing of the Enlightenment. He said quite clearly that a populace would always, collectively, take better decisions than a prince or tyrant acting alone and driven only by their own mind. He’s right. Someone tell David Cameron (see the comment made exactly one year ago today, which I feel as strongly now as I did then).
Trondheim is the third-largest city in Norway, founded in 997. At 63º25’N, it’s the northernmost place I have ever been, which explains why the autumn colours have arrived here rather earlier than at home. This is a good thing – the place looks stunning at the moment. These are the grounds of the Nidaros cathedral, built in 1070, the northernmost medieval cathedral in the world, and a very impressive monument.
Here I am in Norway again – specifically Trondheim, which happens to be the furthest north I have ever been on this planet. The views coming in on the plane this morning were spectacular, but though I got some good shots they were all taken through glass and none quite did it for me (though this remains the most beautiful country in the world – well, one of them anyway, perhaps alongside Greece).
Decided, in the end, not to go for the landscape shot, but instead picked one from our pre-conference-reception tour at ‘Rockheim’, a museum devoted entirely to the Norwegian rock’n’roll industry – and more interesting than that might seem to outsiders. This room was a homage to the ‘Pussycats’, apparently the first Norwegian rock band to really make it big in the 60s. So now you know.
Norway is a sensibly governed country, compared to others I could mention: the best example of this being that the Norwegian state retains a 51% share in the main oil company and in each of the national banks. The result: it’s very wealthy. (Citizens of countries whose governments have, instead, chosen to squander all the revenue from North Sea oil over the last 40 years might like to take note.) Which is why it can afford to build vast and impressive new performing arts centres like the Kilden, in small provincial towns like Kristiansand.
This picture was taken during the conference reception. There are other people all around, but somehow, on this trip, it didn’t really seem to be about the people. At least, not photographically.
We transited down to Kristiansand today, in the southernmost part of Norway (though still as far north as Aberdeen in Scotland). Wouldn’t have chosen to come here normally, but was invited to give a keynote speech at a conference. It’s not as dramatic as the western fjords but it’s pleasant enough, and the sun was shining. This picture makes it look like it’s got wide, sweeping sands, but actually it’s a pretty scrubby bit of beach, probably artificial. Nevertheless, the kid’s having fun, and it was quite a sunny and pleasant evening.
So, finally, I make it into the fjords. This is a narrow passage between the little islands of Paddøy and Hokøyna, north of Bergen on the route up to Mofjorden. I don’t really feel I did the Norwegian landscape justice with any single photo taken today, partly because of a simple lack of good light, and also because for most of the journey we were either on a boat which was moving very quickly (some 30-35 knots), and thus being out on deck was a bracing experience to put it mildly – and focusing was difficult as a result. Or, we were behind glass on the bus home. And how can one choose just one shot to encapsulate this amazing natural architecture. I know, then, that here I do resort to cliché. But what the hell.
Being 42 