The Scandinavian Berry Quartet
Source: theqoo.net
If you thought being in Norway would give me the space to have deep thoughts etc., you would have overestimated me. If you caught me zoning out, 9 times out of 10, I would be thinking about berries. The 10th time, I’d be thinking about ice cream.
So I’m not sure why the bears in Canada didn’t get the memo, but there are tons of wild berries in Scandinavia. Basically, free food everywhere. Yet foraging is a special kind of free food. For one, its free food without mark-ups for being package-free, local, AND fair-trade. It’s free food without anyone trying to sell my anything (ie. samples at Costco). It’s free food without someone trying to bribe me to do something (ie. to be social at a lunch hosted by church). And, not to mention, it would actually go to waste if it weren’t in my belly. This is free food I don’t have to feel guilty about. In fact, I can make a moral case for eating berries.
[Act 1] Strawberry
Early to mid-July
I have seen wild strawberries in Germany before …except back then I was traveling alone and feared that maybe it isn’t a strawberry and maybe I would die from trying it. I saw more wild strawberries within the first couple days of working on the fields in Gjøvik. When I told our hosts about them, they actually encouraged us to eat them!
If you’ve never tried a wild strawberry, you have not lived. Oh my. I am convinced that Heaven meets Earth in each of these little red nuggets. No bigger than half the size of your finger, but with the flavor of 4 domesticated strawberries concentrated into its flesh. No no no, not even. The flavour is not comparable to a domesticated strawberry. In fact, the name is misleading altogether. Another thing is that their flavour and shape vary from strawberry to strawberry. Some taste like cotton candy. Some are more like SweeTarts. Sometimes you eat two at the same time and get a firework of favours … like popping candy! Some are short and fat like Wario, some are heart-shaped (like Mario?), some are long and skinny Luigi… and because they are all tiny, they are kind of adorable. You know how cute-sy Asian stationary fetishize plump, round strawberries? I learned that those are probably modeled after wild strawberries.
Anyway, our most memorable strawberry experience was this one day our French WWOOFer and I took a break from work and decided to hike a trail our hosts recommended.
strawberry treasure map!
Following the numbering on the map:
(1) The farm, our starting point.
We made a detour to (2) to see if we could cut directly to a trail from there. But it turned out to be a really long driveway with a cluster of houses at the end. As we tried to walk around to the fields behind the houses, a lady comes out and starts speaking to us in Norwegian. Our hosts had told us that Norwegians are very comfortable with people walking through their property, but between the English speaking and the lost expressions, the reply given by this lady (in English supplemented with body language) was enough to understand that we were being turned away. Oh well.
So we headed to (3) which is the start of the trail.
There was a waterfall at (5) and slightly upstream, we climbed down a slope to the side of the river and chilled there for a bit sketching and journaling.
When we started seeing our first wild strawberry patches around (6), this provoke different reactions between the two of us. There was me, way too excited and already eating every berry I could see … As for the French WWOOFer, she was more level-headed. I think I remember her saying something along the lines of “I shouldn’t eat too many. Too many berries is bad for digestion.“–which I naturally understood as, “more for me!“
By the time we found the JACKPOT BERRY PATCH (see photos above), even French WWOOFer could not hold herself back. Stomach ache it is!
Um, 3 hours later…
We continued along the path until (8) … Where we found the (spoiler alert!) LARGEST RASPBERRY PATCH EVER … as the raspberries were not yet ripe, we made a mental note to come back here in a week or so for a RASPBERRY FEAST (yes, we made these plans while still clutching our stomachs in pain from wild strawberry over-consumption)
At this point we noticed the trail loops back on to itself and we would have to retrace our steps to the beginning of the trail. Neither of us liked the idea of retracing or steps. Furthermore, we had an inkling that we were closer to the farm (1) where we were at (8) than to the start of the trail (3). So when we found a desire path veering in the right direction, (9), we just followed it hoping it would take us closer to the farm. Following path (9) brought us to the edge of a cultivated field. We trespassed through the field towards the house on it … and hey, what do you know? That’s the property we initially tried to cut through at (2) and got turned away from!
And you know what that means? It means we now have a shortcut back to (8) aka the LARGEST RASPBERRY PATCH I’VE EVER SEEN … Awwwww yeeeeeee!!
Back at the farm, we shared our adventures and our strawberries and the good news of the raspberry patch with our fellow WWOOFers. French WWOOFer made this amazing wild strawberry tart which is by definition a French pastry.
Our French pastry chef (read: WWOOFer) made us a tart from the foraged wild strawberries!
Berries aside, this was one of the most satisfying hikes ever.
So many open ends were closed. French WWOOFer and I didn’t set off expecting to hike together. We were planning on going on solitary hikes in the vicinity of (3). As a result, we didn’t review or bring any maps. I also hadn’t packed a lunch since I thought I would buy it along the way on the walk I originally planned to take. But somehow decided to hike together. Maps were replaced by directional intuition (which is more fun IMO). And I’m glad I didn’t bring a lunch because BERRIES!
The hike also seemed to have such a tidy narrative arch. There was a conflict (an old lady turning us away) which ended up being foreshadow (we wouldn’t have been able to recognize where we were at point 9 unless we ventured there at point 2). There was rising action (deciding to hike together etc.). There was a climax (finding strawberries). And a resolution (finding a shortcut back). It even had irony (finding a way back through the forbidden territory). It’s not often that reality actually models the structures we would like to impose on it.
Finally, the hike seemed to have a message. At (5) when we sat along the river, perched on different rocks, journal and drawing in silence… I thought of desire paths. Often along trails, humans venture off the path when they hear or see something interesting. When enough people are intrigued by the same thing, a path caused by erosion in the high-traffic area gets etched into the earth; this is what hikers call a desire path.
The desire path itself ends up encouraging future hikers to explore off the trail … for better or for worse. See, desire paths can often lead to dead ends. It may be a good dead end like the pretty spot along the river we were sitting at … But often, desire paths lead to frustrated dead ends. While all desire paths begin with excitement and potential, frustrated desire paths ultimately lead no where. Yet no one who is at the beginning of the desire path could have known. The frustrated desire path is therefore a desire path that perpetuates its frustration in its effect of misleading future hikers.
Admittedly, I was being slightly melodramatic, thinking of what life will be like returning home from this trip and start looking for work in earnest. I wrote in my journal, I follow desire paths to see what others once desired, where they desired to go–most are [probably] dead ends. I felt like where I wanted to go would veer off the “official trail”, not so much so that I am a “trail blazer”, but enough so that I am following the desire paths where others who have ventured off the trail have gone. Yet, I understand that the “official trail” exists for a reason [1]… and that as a result, most desire paths will lead to frustrated dead ends. I was preemptively frustrated that those who got lost in desire paths never came back to the point where they diverged from the trail and put a sign warning, “THIS DESIRE PATH DOES NOT WORK”. At the same time, it’s not as simple as following those who have successfully followed their desire paths … even if they had the compassion to turn back where they diverged to post a sign saying, “THIS PATH WORKS”.
During this hike, we followed a desire path to get to a restful place at (5). Ultimately, we followed a desire path at (9) that led us directly home. Maybe desire paths just work better in Norway.
[1] Of course, the “official trail” exists for a reason. If, for example, straying from an official hiking trail to seek cheap thrills will be detrimental to wildlife and plant life; perhaps going off life’s “official trail” out of naive idealism may have some averse downstream effects on other humans’ lives. Siiigh.
[Act 2] Raspberry
Mid-July to Early August
Raspberries grow like weeds in Scandinavia. By Mid-July, it was apparent that our hosts pretty much have wild raspberries surrounding the perimeter of their property. But you’ve already know this from my last post.
Narrowing down wild raspberry consumption to a particular story would be misleading. Eating raspberries was like breathing: it’s critical to every story I have to tell, but its consistency (which I am grateful for) is also what keeps it from staring in any story. I ate compulsively between tasks during work hours, only to spending hours forehead deep in thorny bushes listening to podcasts after work. I ate wild raspberries like a Millennial checks their smartphone.
So instead, here’s me showing you my favourite raspberry patches. You’re welcome.
raspberry treasure map … because I am generous like that.
Of course (1) is the farm.
(2) was the raspberry patch that we now had quick access to via that shortcut we found.
I distinctly remember (3) was on top of a steep grassy slope that required me to run/climb up (those were extra sweet).
Remember how I planned to go on a different path on the day we found the strawberry patch that changed my life? Near the end of our stay in Gjøvik, I decided to tackle that mini-bucket list item. I had planned to walk to Moevl, a town on the other side of Mjøsa. The lake separates two counties; a bridge connects them. On the way to Moelv, we stopped by some decent patches at (4) and (5) … Tim pried me away from many others, sigh.
[Act 3] Blueberry
Early to Mid August?
I wish I could have interesting things to say about every type of berry for this post, but Act 3 is one you can skip.
While raspberries can literally grow through a piles of trash (we we witnessed at the farm), it seems like blueberries are more picky about where they set up camp. I saw several wild blueberry patches in a forest between (2) and (3) on the raspberry map above. The environment they thrive in had a very distinct vibe that I can’t put my finger on. But apparently, it was a good raspberry year and a bad blueberry year, so that may have contributed to my impression.
To further berate these wild blueberries, the taste ranged from tasteless to sour. I almost feared that it wasn’t a blueberry at all! This was super disappointing considering wild blueberries were the berries I was most excited about, especially trying some delicious the berries in Killnarney Provincial Park in Canada! Upon further Wiki-ing,perhaps the blueberries I tried weren’t ripe. Anyway, if I would still eat (and faun over) a wild blueberry if I saw one; I’m pretty open-minded about my free food.
[Act 4] Blackberry
Late-August to … ???
Blackberries were still pretty sour while we were in Tønsberg, but by the time we were in Copenhagen with my parents, blackberries bonded my free-food loving family.
Blackberries grow much higher and thornier than I was used to for raspberries, so it was a good thing that I had two other Lo’s tackling these monsters with me! The fourth, Tim, not being of the “Lo” variety, was perplexed and amused; he merely documented.
[Epilogue] Plum
Not a berry, but I needed to give a shout-out to the wild plums we found in Stockholm 🙂