Mountain People

My Norwegian host parents were mountain people.  No better description exists than that. I remember once, standing in my host family’s kitchen in Narvik, feeling the hardened bread crumbs between my toes and the wooden floor, staring out the window at the brilliant periwinkle dawn rising behind snowy mountain silhouettes.  Eva was there too, with tousled hair, pajamas on inside-out and backwards, the tag sticking out from under her chin, always.  She gazed sleepily into the breathtaking distance and she said,

“I look forward to springtime, when I will take the train into the mountains and lay down on a slab of granite warmed by the sun, falling asleep listening to the trickling music of melting snow.  That is the best thing I know.”

She then proceeded to make breakfast.  I looked on incredulously and thought someday, I will be a mountain person too.

Three years later, I’m at least setting foot in the right direction!

(All photos taken in Norway, Spring 2008, with my dear old Nikon D40, which will be accompanying me to the Himalayas shortly!)

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