A business Trip to Bergen with Rain, Rhythm and a New Barbour
Early start, airport lounge, laptop open — the usual rhythm of a business day on the move. Luckily, I found a quiet corner at Gardermoen with a desk and enough calm to get through a tight morning of meetings before boarding my flight west.
Bergen greeted me with wind, drizzle (of course), and something far more tempting: the Barbour Hereford Wax Jacket I’ve had my eyes on for years. My old COVID-era jacket — once a bargain at 70% off — has finally started to show its age.
I´d already checked out the jacket last time in Bergen. In the heat of the moment I decided to try on a Barbour bucket hat, took a photo, and sent it to Nina for approval. Her reply? Let’s just say it was a big fat no. I get it — it was a bit too much, like Barbour had just thrown up on me. The jacket, however, passed the test and came home with me. And really, Bergen is the perfect city to buy a Barbour in. With rain this steady — and yes, it poured that day too — the jacket earned its keep right away.
A big fat no on the hat then…
I actually grew up in Bergen, and I remember when Bergens Tidende used to print, on its front page, how many consecutive days it had rained. They eventually had to stop — the number was closing in on a hundred, and it was too depressing to face over morning coffee. Some cities are made for sunshine. Bergen was made for waxed cotton.
After landing at Flesland, I hopped on the Bybanen, Bergen’s little tram line. It’s a pleasant ride — though a slow one — into the city. The stop is a short walk from my hotel, which was fine by me. It gave me a chance to stroll through streets I know well: across Torgallmenningen, past Tobakk Sørensen
— where I managed to resist the urge to buy a cigar. Though honestly, where could one even smoke a cigar in Bergen these days? Yes… I’ll admit it: a good cigar, once in a while, is part of my personal recipe for happiness.
I continued past Sakarias Bryggen and the fish market, before reaching Home Hotel Bryggen in Rosenkrantzgaten.
The hotel isn’t new, but it has charm — and a gym, which I always appreciate when traveling. My room faced the Bryggen waterfront.
I got a nice room with a view towards Bryggen
Home hotels serve “Fika” - a sweet afternoon snack invention from Sweden
Later that evening, I dropped by Apollon Platebar — a record shop and bar in one. It was quiz night, lively for a Monday, and I ordered an Isdalen from 7 Fjell Bryggeri. Local beer, of course — when in Bergen, drink local. The place had that mix of music, laughter, and light chaos that only true rock’n’roll spots manage. I was shocked, though, at what vinyl costs these days — 350 NOK and upwards!
Isdalen from 7 Fjell Bryggeri at Apollon Platebar
Apollon is a must for vinyl and music lovers. Monday night was quiz night, with all the quiz teams struggeliing with intricate quiz questions behind me from where I took this picture.
On my way out, I passed another fun spot called Utidi Bar, but since it was a work night (and I had plans for Børskjelleren), I decided to save that one for next time.
The old Bergen Børs building is stunning — grand ceilings, murals, all that quiet, old-world elegance. I peeked into the restaurant on the ground floor — one day, Nina and I will dine there. But tonight, my destination was downstairs. Børskjelleren Bar — a true blue pill / red pill moment. I chose the blue one: forget reality, chase happiness.
Bergen Børs - stock exchange from 1813 to 1937. Now - a hotel, fancy restaurant and… Børskjelleren!
I chose the blue pill: forget reality, chase happiness.
It’s a cozy cellar bar, with that familiar scent of old stone and stories. Not many guests on a Monday, but a friendly bartender and good beer — a Nøgne Ø American IPA. I sat there editing photos for this post and soaking in the calm.
Back at the hotel, the door slid open just as Nina called — I jumped twice, once from the ring and once from the door nearly snatching my nose. She laughed, of course. I grabbed a drink in the hotel bar, chatted with her and then with my parents, who were packing for France.
By ten, it was time to call it a night. A rainy city, a warm bar, and a new jacket built for both.
