However, I got some itchy feet and wanted to bring Mom to a place that was magical to me two years ago: Kiberg. This tiny town between Vardø and Vadsø on the Varanger Peninsula served as a convenient stop on my way to Vardø back then. I fell in love with the peaceful, magical, and soul-nurturing surroundings. I remember fondly how I was sitting at Trond’s massive wooden table in the cozy living room, working for my job in New Zealand but watching over the silver Barent Sea around midnight.
When Mom and I stepped off the bus after a several hour-long bus trip, Trond already waved at us and started walking towards us. Trond was born in Vadsø and grew up in Kiberg but spent most of his life as a journalist in Oslo, where he still lives with his family. However, his childhood home in Kiberg serves as a second home to him, and he opens his house to guests who can stay in one of the two guest rooms. Trond also offers his services as an Arctic Nature Guide and can guide around his area, invites to fishing tours, etc. Over the following days, we also learned that Trond is very engaged in conserving local history and culture.
At first, spending time in a homestay felt slightly awkward. But the calmness of the place and the matter of the course to just be, made things easy. Interestingly, an excited US-American couple and their Norwegian guide from Tromsø arrived the next day. Chad is a History High School teacher with Norwegian heritage and he also is a Norwegian Storyteller in Wisconsin. The couple, with the help of their guide, is on a frantic trip through northern Norway, Sweden, and Finland to trace Chad’s family history and collect inspiration for his storyteller shows. They made the massive detour to Kiberg on the Varanger Peninsula to visit the Borderland Museum and the Steilneset Minnested/Witch Memorial. It felt rushed to us, but Trond and the couple invited us along, so we went. At first, we went to visit Partisanmuseet/Partisan Museum in Kiberg together. This museum tells an unknown story of war: young people left the Eastern Finmark for the Soviet Union to receive training in warfare behind the front and returned to report on German troop movements. Many of these young people died, and the few survivors were met with suspicion during the Cold War. Trond’s grandfather was one of the partisans.
Visiting the museum felt intimidating: being German, you carry the weight of the nation’s past and feel very much ashamed when it comes to world war history. Once again, I was worried about the likelihood of finding my great-grandfather in any of the pictures of the German soldiers that were on display along the walls in the wooden house that, after the war, served as the town’s school. It was shocking to learn about the hardship of the partisans and the people living up here during the war. But I was also in awe of the perseverance and strong willingness of the people.
It was a relief, though, to step outside again and inhale the cold arctic breeze and see a herd of reindeer roaming through town. After a few minutes of contemplating, we returned to Trond’s minibus and went on to Vardø. There, we visited Pomor Museet/The Pomors Museum. Lovingly cared-for exhibitions gave insight into the lives of the Pomors, who were Russian Orthodox and lived in the area primarily for fishing and trading with other Pomors along the northern coast. Another exhibition educated about the contact between Northern Norway and Northern Russia after the Pomeranian trade declined. Trond organized a private guide in the museum. It was a humble, elderly local man who struggled to speak English. But as Mom and I kept asking questions about the relationship with Russia back then and now. We started to have this conversation about borders and how borders separate not just countries but also people who share more than what separates them and who are somewhat dependent on another. He stopped talking and suddenly asked us where we were from. Learning that we are from East Germany, he nodded knowingly. … and suddenly, we all felt an extraordinary and strong connection to one another and to the place we are at, all based on mutual experience on borders. At this moment, it felt like all the pieces I was juggling were coming close together for a moment: my East German identity, which I struggled with so much, learning about the world war history of the place and its connection to my great grandfather. Nothing of all of this, I anticipated when proposing to Mom to visit Norway’s northern region.
I already knew that the next stop wouldn’t be short of emotions. I remember the Steilneset Minnested/Witch Memorial in Vardø as an extraordinary place. The last time I visited it was in bright sunlight; this time it was a dreary and cold day that added a different feel to the monument that commemorates the trial and execution of 91 people for witchcraft between 1060-1692. The memorial consists of a hall designed by a Swiss architect and an intriguing installation created by a French artist. Stepping into the hall, reading about every single fate – primarily women who got murdered after being convicted of witchcraft, and at the same time listening to the wild Barent Sea only meters away, and hearing the wind roar outside left an eerie feeling. The installation, a burning chair in a concrete and glass house with mirrors everywhere, was very emotional. Standing inside and watching the flames, seeing the rough Arctic environment outside, exceptionally touched me.
Back in Kiberg, we all ended the day having a fantastic dinner of cod (caught and prepared by Trond) together and sharing our thoughts about the adventures and experiences of the day. Clearly, we all had many things we wanted to share: impressions, emotions, questions. It turned out to be a long evening with many different topics meandering back and forth, from Arctic History to US-American politics and German identities. Chad was particularly interested in learning more about East Germany, and I translated between English and German between Mom and Chad. It was a delightful evening and deep exchange of thoughts.
