Norway is quiet

Lofoten lighthouse

August in Italy means vacation, so I’ve been duly and happily away from Milan in recent weeks. My husband and I took the Hurtigruten coastal steamer (cruise ship cum postal delivery vehicle) up the Norwegian coast and into the Arctic Circle. Fortunately, we’d arranged a three-day stop on the magnificent Lofoten Islands. The journey is dubbed “the world’s most beautiful voyage” by the company itself, and the scenery certainly IS beautiful, but the cruise experience is rather dull (this from a couple who has greatly enjoyed a transatlantic cruise and other journeys with Royal Caribbean and, so, is not at all biased against cruise travel…). Our vacation experience was saved by the days exploring Lofoten, including an exciting marine research excursion with the immensely dedicated Heike Vester of Ocean Sounds at Henningsvaer. We want to return to view the Orcas with her in the winter some day and to witness the northern lights as well. The quirky stockfish museum at the village of A was also fascinating. Apparently, northern Norway’s extensive codfishing industry is almost entirely dedicated to serving the Italian, Spanish, and Portugese markets, while the fish heads are all sent to Nigeria.

But back to the subject of this post:

Norway is QUIET. And the Norwegians, in stark contrast to Italians, are fond of solitude. The quiet permeated all cities but Oslo and was also evident on the ship, where background music neither adorned nor disturbed the silence. The absence of background music and similar sounds was noticeable throughout towns and cities, in restaurants and in shops. It’s interesting because I don’t usually notice music when it’s present, but its absence was immediately apparent. The quiet was both pleasant and strange, and clearly unfamiliar.

Boarding the plane returning to Milan, the familiar cacaphony that greeted our ears was both jarring and comforting. Americans, Italians, and Indians (three populations I’ve lived among) are all talkative people who fill their environments with sound — both intentionally and unintentionally. It was interesting to spend two weeks in a culture of quiet and to listen to the sounds of silence.

Let me be clear: though the environment was quiet and the distance between houses makes the people’s comfort with solitude evident, I consistently found the Norwegians I met to be warm and friendly, helpful and open, sparklingly sunny. I never found the quiet to be aloof nor the solitariness to be closed. And I look forward to experiencing the warm Norwegian welcome again in some future cold dark winter.