Last weekend I was at TimberFest, but I’m writing about that experience elsewhere. In the meantime, let me talk about Doe Bay Fest, which is coming up in a couple weeks. Doe Bay Fest is a very special music festival. Just like Eistnaflug, it feels like a family reunion. I try to go as often as I can. Last year I missed it for Pickathon, and while I don’t regret that experience one bit, I also missed the Doe Bay experience. This year I got Doe Bay tickets for Christmas, and the 21-band lineup includes a lot of music I like.
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Annie Ford
Doe Bay always involves a lot of music discovery, and the first time I heard of Annie Ford was when I read this year’s lineup announcement. I notice the Bandcamp page is listed as Annie Ford Band, while Doe Bay says Annie Ford – that might mean a solo set. But I hope not because I really love the swinging full band sound on At Night.
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Beverly Crusher
Okay, their last two releases, including Scared, were only singles and they haven’t released a full album since 2016. But they’re totally new to me, and even if it’s a set of mostly older music, this riffy rock’n’roll is perfect for a summer afternoon on Orcas Island.
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The Burned
I never heard of the Kurt Baumann solo project The Burned before they released the Doe Bay lineup. But they’ve been on near-constant rotation. He’s got a voice that could give early The National a run for their money; tells stories like Nick Cave; plays guitar like nobody’s business. Even my country-averse husband can’t get enough of The Burned. This is our top musical prospect for Doe Bay this year.
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Treepeople
When I was younger, I side-eyed all the middle aged baby boomers forking out big bucks to see the reunion tours of the bands that were cool in their youth. But now that I’m in my forties, I’m looking forward to seeing Treepeople at Doe Bay. This Built to Spill precursor wasn’t much on my radar back in the day, but it turns out the nineties still sound good.
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Versing
I always have a hard time describing bands like Versing. It’s like the scene in Spinal Tap where the band try to describe themselves and basically come up with “generic rock band.” But even if I can’t find interesting words about good old rock and roll, listening to it is never boring. And just like human voices, no two rock bands are every actually the same. I look forward to hearing this one live.
I’m not a selfie person. I don’t really like looking at myself. This rare selfie attempt was taken from a viewpoint above Qingdao with my then-10-year-old. Like Seattle, Qingdao has a lot of gray days. But even when it’s gray, sometimes the light is too bright. For this self-portrait with city, we should have worn shades.
We didn’t feel like we were done with Oslo, but there was an art workshop in Bergen on Saturday that we didn’t want to miss. And we had a lot of ground to cover in between. So on our third day in Norway, we started our DIY Norway in a Nutshell tour.
Norway in a Nutshell
If you spend any time at all planning a trip to Norway, you’ll run across the Norway in a Nutshell tour. Like the Golden Circle in Iceland, it’s a roughly defined loop in the southern part of the country with a few popular tourist attractions that have been built up into “you haven’t been there if you missed this” status. The Norway version usually involves Oslo and Bergen, the rail line in between, a fjord tour, and the Flåmsbana train ride. People do it in either direction, and sometimes only one way. Most people take two days to complete it, but you can cram it into one (minus the return trip) or stretch it to a whole vacation, depending on how much ground you want to cover each day.
Why I DIY
There’s a tour company that runs Norway in a Nutshell, but the thing is, they really only serve as a booking agent. They don’t provide guides or the actual transportation. They do offer a lot of different variations on the itinerary, but their website was kind of confusing for me. Then I found a website that broke down the steps and the cost of a self-planned Nutshell. Booking the “official” tour cost nearly twice as much as planning your own trip and buying minipris tickets or using a Eurail pass. I was already planning on a Eurail pass, so DIY seemed like the obvious way to go.
A Rocky Start
We arrived at the Eurail office just as they were closing on Wednesday night. They activated our passes, but said we needed a seat reservation to ride the Bergen line – something that was not obvious on the Eurail or NSB web sites. We had to come back in the morning since they had already turned off their POS system. Like a dork, I stressed out about making it to the station on time to get our seats and make the train, so I got insomnia and slept a total of 3 hours that night. Because a sleepless night is the best way to guarantee smooth travel.
Catching the Train
Since I was up early (you know, 2 am) we got there in plenty of time. We reserved our seats, bought our discounted Flåmsbana tickets (Eurail Pass holders get 30% off the private rail line) and made it to the platform, which was almost adjacent to the office, with about 40 minutes to spare before our 8:25 train. We found our seats, stowed our stuff, and fell asleep before we were out of the Oslo suburbs. We slept through half of the six hour train ride to Myrdal through some of the most gorgeous scenery known to mankind and I still managed to use up all the data on my prepaid sim card.
Flåmsbana
The Flåm Railway runs from the mountaintop at Myrdal down to
the village of Flåm on the Sognefjord (you know, the fjord where Egil
Skallagrimsson’s family came from). It is one of the world’s steepest railways
on normal track. It’s only 12.4 miles long but has a half-mile vertical elevation
drop and some famous tunnels and super-twisty bits. It’s definitely an
engineering feat if you’re in to that, but people are mainly attracted to it
for the chance to see world-class mountain views from inside a photogenic historic
train car.
In fact, the train stops barely five minutes out of Myrdal
to let people off to take pictures of a waterfall. The waterfall wasn’t running
much since the snowpack hadn’t started melting yet when we were there in
mid-April, but it was still a beautiful place to go camera crazy.
The rest of the ride only takes about an hour, which most
people spend obsessively trying to grab Instagram shots. Unfortunately, that
means they keep the windows down, and you know, old trains are really loud,
especially in tunnels. My daughter and eye spent as much time with our hands
over our ears as our fingers on the shutters.
But that’s okay, it was still a ride on a cool old train,
and the mountains were still drop dead gorgeous. For all that the engineering
talk, the train ride didn’t feel particularly vertiginous compared to the funicular
we would later ride in Bergen, or remotely scary compared to the bus rides I
took on mountain roads when I was in India. In other words, it wasn’t a thrill
ride; it was easy to relax and enjoy the views.
The Village of Flåm
Flåm is a tiny village of about 300 people. It mostly consists of gift shops and restaurants clustered around a tourist information center. We hit up the TIC first to confirm our boat tickets for the morning. I wasted time looking for a sim card at the only tiny grocery store in town, then promptly got lost looking for the campground where we had reserved a cabin.
But even in the middle of dragging suitcases around trying to figure out where we were going, my daughter relaxed as soon as we got off the train. I hadn’t realized that she was tense when we were running around Oslo. But something about that tiny strip of photogenic land inside the bowl-like enclosure of mountains on the edge of the fjord put her immediately at ease.
Cozy Cabins
Once we found it (and there was no reason we had such a hard time), we loved our little cabin. My daughter was delighted to discover that she could have both the top and bottom bunks for herself, and I just loved how cozy it was.
By the time we walked back into town, everyone from our train had disappeared and the town seemed almost deserted. We shopped at the gift shops until they closed (most of them at 4 o’clock). I got a thulite pendant and we bought some locally made chocolate. Then we hung around until the brewery opened for dinner.
We had an excellent dinner and walked back to cabin in the
dusk (the sun disappeared behind the mountains hours before the actual “sunset”).
There I failed to properly operate the washing machine, so I gave up and spent
a peaceful evening relaxing with a local brew in the cabin while my daughter read
a book in her bunk. We went to sleep early and had the first solid night’s rest
of the trip.
Visit Flåm
Despite the almost complete lack of activity – or maybe because of it – we were seriously tempted to stay longer. I could easily have spent a day just soaking in the quiet, and then hung around for a couple days more with day trips to Stegastein and the nearby village of Aurland (where Egil’s in-laws lived). I guess I’m not surprised that my artsy introvert wanted more time in Flåm. But I’m all about concerts and museums and fancy coffee, and I still felt weirdly at home in that tiny little town where you have to look up to see the horizon.
My daughter has never been able to eat spicy food. A couple dashes of black pepper used to send her running for water. Even after her cleft palate was repaired, closing the direct line between her mouth and sinuses, spicy food was totally taboo. But one day when we were in China, we walked into a little fast food place with a cow on the otherwise unreadable sign. This was a special treat for her, because she loves meat and I’m vegetarian. Assuring her that I would be fine with a bun from a nearby bakery, she ordered a bowl of beef soup from the photo menu.
When her order came, it was so laden with chili that I could smell it across the table. A layer of chili flake floater on the surface. It was genuinely spicy.
She couldn’t trade food with me, because I don’t eat beef and I hadn’t ordered anything to trade. But she was appalled at the thought of wasting money and food. (I don’t remember if I told her that her soup cost $6 – at that age she might have thought $6 was expensive.)
In the end, she made a full meal of it. It took an entire bottle of water and many tissues for her streaming sinuses, and she still couldn’t finish it. But she was as proud of the soup she did eat as if she had cooked it herself. And to this day, when she complains about food being too spicy, I remind her, “You ate the soup in Qingdao and even liked it.” She still avoids spicy food, but what counts as spicy now is so much hotter than a dash of black pepper.
I have listened to a lot of classical music in the last couple decades, but mostly as accompaniment to another art form like ballet or opera. Ólafur Arnalds was my introduction to the music sometimes known as neoclassical. Since that discovery, I’ve found a lot of contemporary classical music that I like.
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Ólafur Arnalds
The man who started it all. Ólafur was my introduction to contemporary classical music. My entry point was the indie-like, accessible For Now I Am Winter with vocals from Agent Fresco’s Arnór Dan. From there I went on to listen to his more classically styled compositions – and to explore other artists in the genre. After a hand injury, Ólafur focused on his electronic project Kiasmos for several years. But 2018’s re:member returns to form.
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Nils Frahm
I’ve already written about how I went to the electronic music festival Decibel Fest to see Ólafur Arnalds on a split bill with some guy named Nils Frahm, and how Frahm blew my mind and changed my ideas about what music could be. His latest album, All Melody, is a bit more traditional, as the title indicates. But Spaces is still one of my all time favorite albums.
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Valgeir Sigurðsson
Valgeir is better known as producer, but I loved his album Architecture of Loss. Even now, most of his work is still behind the scenes and in collaboration with other Bedroom Community artists. But most recently, he has released another solo album, Little Moscow, that is every bit as meditative and even more melodic.
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Caroline Shaw
A newer discovery (and recent release) is the album Orange by Caroline Shaw and the Attacca Quartet. It doesn’t do anything weird or experimental. It’s just a beautiful, engaging work for strings exploring the “the ways we find wonder in endless encounters with the same object” – like an orange, or a suite for four strings.
{Aside: If you haven’t read the excellent manga Orange by Ichigo Takano, I highly recommend it. Even though it presents the problematic idea that friends can rescue someone from mental illness without professional medical help, it is a truly beautiful story about the impact on loved ones left behind. I read it in one sitting and ugly cried through the last third.}
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Liam Byrne
Many of Bedroom Community’s releases are over my head, but I try to keep track of what they’re up to because when they hit the spot it is sweet. Liam Byrne‘s Concrete is just what I’ve been waiting to hear from them. The album combines contemporary and centuries-old compositions, but the aesthetic is so consistent I dare you to guess which are which. It’s all beautiful.
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John Luther Adams
At least where I live, in Seattle, John Luther Adams made classical music cool again when the second of his three environmentalist compositions created for the Seattle Symphony under now-departing conductor Ludovic Morlot won a Pulitzer in 2014. He may technically be from New York, but John Luther Adams is kind of a Seattle hero. The final installation in the series, Become Desert, is as spacious and lovely as the others.
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