It's all a dim (dulled) memory now... I tucked myself into a window seat for my 4th and final flight in 24 hours, pulled out my knitting and promptly nodded off. Sometimes, you can't beat the purr of jet engines--I'm not kidding! When I came to, we were passing over a totally barren, snow covered area. It's much different from Rocky Mountain barren. There are no peaks, just rocky, broken down mountains at such a far north latitude that trees can't survive. It was mid-afternoon, the flight was 40 minutes long, and I slept for 2/3's of it.
My mistake was asking a question of the man seated next to me, at which point he took me as being more interested in the geography of Norway than I really was. I simply asked if he knew what the body of water below was (it was obviously a fjord, and I was hopeful that it was something I would recognize). Alas, I hadn't heard of it and he continued for the next 15 minutes to point out visible and unseen places which would help me orient myself. It didn't. His accent was just different enough, that I found myself guessing and giving up at guessing what he was talking about. I appreciated that he pointed out Bergen on our approach... FINAL DESTINATION!