My First Winter in Norway
As a child, I enjoyed winter. I loved sledding down the long, bumpy tacks on my neighbor’s hills and building elaborate snow forts and tunnels throughout our large backyard. The neighborhood children would all gather together for intense, snowball fights that lasted for hours. I paid very little attention to the temperature or feeling of coldness, and instead relished the wonderful winter activities.
As the years went by and the earth grew hotter, I seldom those frosty winter days as often. Even at the height of the season, snow would come in the mornings, but quickly melt away by the afternoon, leaving the streets wet with muddy rocks and debris. Some days it would even be warm enough to wear shorts outside.
Eventually I became accustomed to warm winters with the boring brown foliage, and it was a bit intimidating imagining moving to a cold, arctic environment. I also had no idea what to expect with the renowned polar nights; the days in winter, where there are only a couple of hours of sunlight, or in some regions no sunlight at all.
November and December
When I first arrived, the weather was a mix of what I was warned about and what I never expected. Being locked up in quarantine, I couldn't leave the house for several weeks, but that was just as well because the weather showcased its notorious dark days of rain, snow, and gloomy skies. The sun rose at about 8:45 am and set around 3:30 pm, but the light barely peaked over the horizon.
I acutely noticed the light fading throughout December, sometimes as much as 10 to 15 minutes less sunlight each day. By the winter solstice, there were around 4 hours of sunlight, with the sun rising around 9:30 am and set around 2:30 pm.
Norwegian winter sunlight was very different from what I was used to. It was a delicate, soft, hazy glow, and the skies felt like cotton candy with beautiful hues of pink, purple, and blue dusted into the clouds. A subtle, frosty mist hung in the air, so that when you looked out into the fjord, it was as though the sun lay behind a shimmering veil. I actually grew very fond of the winter light here, not only because it was so scarce, but because it was the most beautiful quality of light I have ever seen.
The temperatures were tolerable at -1C to 4C, but the weather fluctuated drastically from hour to hour. The say would start with a gentle glow of sunshine, then a deluge of rain, followed by big fluffy snow, proceeding with more sunshine all within a few hours. After that first week, the weather stabilized and maintained a gentle, wintry luminance.
For the first time in several decades, I finally had a white Christmas. It really felt like the holiday season, with beautiful, white snow building up like a soft blanket on the tops of the buildings and wide-open fields. Couple that with all the lights and decorations, and it felt like stepping into the toy Christmas village my parents used to set up under the Christmas tree.
January and February
Once the winter solstice passed, I was anxious to watch the days become longer. By the beginning of February, the days were noticeably brighter with sunlight between 8:30 am and 4:30 pm. However, along with that sunlight came some truly bitter cold temperatures. Several intense cold fronts came in and froze the city for weeks. The temperatures dropped and stayed between -10C to -20C with humid, icy winds.
The water in the canals froze into thick slabs of ice that shattered like glass sheets against the concrete walls with the movement of the sea. It was an incredible sight, and I was able to capture some shots before it melted again. I frequently heard loud cracks and splashes as massive sheets of ice collapsed off of the walls like icebergs into the ocean. There was at least half a meter or more of thick ice in the canals throughout February.
Norwegian ice is something to marvel at and fear. It is beautiful in the canals, but deceptively deadly on the steep hills that trace the neighborhoods of Trondheim. I found myself more than once thinking I was walking on solid, rocky streets when my legs suddenly slipped out from under me, unveiling a polished layer of black ice.
All the cold, snow, and ice made it especially beautiful to be outside. It really felt like both the winters of my childhood and the winters of my fantasies had blended together into this new reality. One particularly memorable experience happened while I was walking around the fortress above the city. It was a bit warmer than usual that day, with little wind. The sun was shining clearly and warmed me up from my cheeks to my toes. I decided to find a spot where I could embrace the full rays of the sun and sat down on top of a snowy hill next to a fortress cannon. A few minutes later, another gentleman did the same thing several meters away from me. It was a very human moment as we both silently enjoyed the simple feeling of warmth during the coldest season of the year. We silently recognized one another, but said nothing that would intrude on each other's solitude. I closed my eyes for a while and let every drop of precious heat flush my cheeks and fill my heart with gratitude.
When I decided to finally head back home, I noticed I was not the only person nearby enjoying a similar moment. I passed another gentleman who was simply standing and facing the sun on a lower tier of the fortress, and a couple giggling together on a park bench a little further away. A few moments later, I walked past two groups of younger adults sitting on another hill enjoying some coffee and sunshine while watching children whiz down on sleds toward a football field that had been iced over for hockey practice. It was joyful to see everyone savoring the outdoors as much as I was. Norwegian winters have given me the gift of appreciating all that is scarce and fleeting while enveloped in its frosty embrace.
