It has rained all day today, and by four o'clock in the afternoon it was as dark as a cave. November, just as you say.
On a day like this I think back to my last trip to Norway, when we stayed two days in Bergen. A beautiful city in a beautiful country, fjords, mountains, overwhelming nature. And rain, of course. In Bergen it rains almost every day, summer and winter alike. Hitting a dry day is like winning the lottery. We were lucky: after a first day with heavy showers, we got a second day that was partly cloudy but mostly sunny. We took the little train all the way up and enjoyed a magnificent panorama.
But what I wanted to tell you was this: we also visited the old wooden Hanseatic houses by the harbor. In Bergen, a Hanseatic city, a large colony of German merchants had settled in the 15th century. As often happens with immigrants, they lived close together and had all built similar, stately homes near the quay where their ships docked. We were able to visit one of these houses and found it spacious, certainly luxurious for its time, but also dark. Small windows were desirable for various reasons in an era when good insulation was unknown.
Dark, then. In Bergen it is usually dark. In summer because the sun never really gets high in the sky in Northern Europe and quite quickly slips back behind the mountains. In winter because there is only just enough daylight to read a not-too-thick newspaper. Still, the Norwegians say winter is not so bad, because then there is snow on the ground, and the snow makes everything not only cheerier but also whiter. For months they live in a Christmas landscape, so it's quite manageable.
Except in Bergen: in Bergen it doesn't snow, in Bergen it rains and in winter it is therefore truly pitch-dark, especially back then, when they had never heard of street lighting. The Norwegian residents had grown up with those months of darkness and wet, shook the drops from their hats and carried on working; but the Germans withered. It affected their spirits, it paralyzed their diligence, it took away their joy in life; the number of suicides skyrocketed.
Autumn has only just begun, and I can still enjoy a dark, wet day and the coziness of a warm house. Let the wind blow, indoors it tastes twice as good, do you know it? But by February I talk differently, then I am fed up and long for the light and warmth of the sun. Bergen is a beautiful city, the nature is mouthwatering, and they have wonderful fresh fish, by the way. But living there? No, thank you, Westerlo is fine.