It’s not right to judge a country by a two-hour stopover at its international airport, but that’s not going to stop me. We arrived at Iceland’s Keflavik International 7 AM-ish in a steady drizzle, temp in the 40s with a stiff breeze blowing. The forecast calls for the same all week. Pity the poor couple standing in line with us in Boston who were coming for an Icelandic sightseeing adventure. Me, I’d turn around and go home.

The airport was nice, modern and thoroughly efficient, or so we thought. We settled in for a nice cold breakfast of smoothie and pastry kinds of things; checked in on the wifi for news and weather. We had, after all, a two-hour layover, arriving in concourse D and leaving from C. About 30 minutes before flight time we wandered out to find C36 only to discover a large herd of tourists milling about trying to get to the arrivals lounge. “Lucky us,” I thought, “we don’t have to clear passport control.” Wrong. “Your flight just came in from Minneapolis so you have to clear passport control,” we were told. So we joined the throng, competing to pass through a six-person-wide doorway, up a four-person-wide staircase and into a two-person-wide Disney-style queue to reach the half dozen or so agents.

Like I say, it’s unfair to judge an entire country on the airport’s design inefficiency but nonetheless that’s the lingering image of Iceland I now carry.  But you know what? We made the flight with time to spare; it left on time and arrived early. The smoothie was great and Iceland remains on our bucket list.

Arrival in Bergen was a breeze. Luggage came quickly, nothing to declare and no passport control. About every 20 yards (sorry, meters) or so we encountered a smiling, overly cheerful Viking representative pointing the way to the bus. A 30-minute bus ride and we’re on board, welcoming Champaign flute in hand and then chowing down on a cafeteria lunch. Then off to the cabin, a quick unpack and we’re in business. This isn’t like our OAT trip to Southeast Asia where the guide handed out deep fried grasshoppers and every meal was a new adventure!

At this point Judy said, “Do what’s best for you. What’s best for me is a nap.” So away I went for a stroll around the port and surrounding town, located to the north of downtown Bergen. I wandered down the waterfront to a fine view of a large structure at the top of a steep cliff. Naturally, up I went. I’m not sure what the building is, my Norwegian isn’t all it could be but I suspect it’s a school of some sort. I worked my way downwards until I found another cliff. Up the path to the top of what turned out to be the Bergenhoff, the city’s ancient fortress. It’s now a large complex of parklands and stone buildings that today was filled with Bergenites, most scantily clad, spread-eagled soaking up what I suspect is a rare batch of sunshine.

An interesting historical footnote: the Bergenhoff  fought one and only one battle in its 600-year history. It seems King Charles II and King XXX had agreed that Norway’s strict policy of neutrality would be waived to permit a convoy carrying spices and whatnot from the West Indies (now Indonesia) to enter Bergen harbor. Unfortunately the message from Copenhagen didn’t reach Bergen in time so the canons at Bergenhoff blew the convoy to smithereens.

The rest of the day has been usual cruise ship activity, brought to a new level of decadence by Viking: pre-dinner cocktails, a port lecture by the cruise director, a three-course dinner (a Norwegian lamb dish for both of us) with wine, a brief rest on our stateroom balcony and then a 9 PM recital by a well known Norwegian violinist (I forget his name) who played the works of Edvard Gregg and his buddies. Beautiful music well performed but gee whiz, it was all slow going in minor keys. Judy nudged me awake now and then, but only when I was in danger of falling completely out of my chair. Who needs a guardian angle when you have Judy?

We have a trip up Mt Ulriken in the morning and a Bergen panoramic tour (fancy way of saying bus ride) in the afternoon before sailing for Eidfjord and the Scenic Flan Railway. It’s 10:30 and actually starting to get dark so off to bed!