Trondheim

You're in my blood - literally.

Another plane, otherwise a 7 hour train trip and then a bus to my hotel. On the trip, big flakes of snow begin to fall. The hotel is modern and encased in a beautiful gothic building. Lovely staff, first snow of the season she tells me. I tell her of my excitement and she says she grew up here but never gets sick of the snow. Everyone seems to speak English and everyone so friendly. The men are tall, blonde and well dressed ( I may have mentioned that before). I drop my bag off and head out to get a better look.

It's a bit precarious with icy patches which makes me walk slowly down to the fjord/harbour in the hope of seeing the northern lights, as you sometimes can I've been informed but not this time. I walk back into the centre, my lips and even my teeth feel frozen, the wind nearly blows me over as I search for a place for lunch. I don't usually feel the cold, usually menopause keeps me warm. I have finally met my match here. Lovely shops and cafes. The snow flakes have stopped falling as I head home for a rest and later, dinner at the hotel. Very Norwegian: fish cakes, smoked salmon, potato salad, all apart of the hotel price, breakfast and dinner included.

I keep waking and looking out the window to see it snowing again, the sky is like day, white throughout the night. I'm hopeful for tomorrow and when I finally wake, there's a deep crust of snow everywhere. Breakfast is amazing. Baby chia puddings, healthy shakes in tiny milk bottles, different mueslis, cooked berries, vege and fruit juice shots, a wheel of camembert warmed with nuts, scrambled eggs with fragrant mushrooms, frittata, smoked fish and salmon, caramel slices, croissants, waffles that you make. I tried as much as I could and had a couple of coffees to wake me up after my restless snow detection sleepless night and then I'm off to the old bridge.

So much easier to walk on the deep fresh snow! Again I feel I am in a fantasy realm of fairytales read to me as a child, of snow, lamp posts, witches and fairies. I can't stop taking photos and then I come to the bridge and look over and am stunned. The river is almost still and a perfect mirror for the different coloured wooden houses huddled along the edge.

It's starting to snow again, tiny balls of white flicking over the scenery. I cross the bridge to car-less streets, covered in Xmas street lights with a church on the hill that looks like the one I was given as a child. A tiny snow encrusted mountain with a little train going up to a church with red cellophane windows that lit up. The whole thing turned to a Xmas carol. It was one of the most beautiful gifts I ever had and I have no idea what happened to it but here it has come to life. I am walking up the hill to the church. On my way, I stop for another coffee to warm up. The snow is falling in big flakes, settling on my gloves, my hat. I enter inside for warmth.

After that I walk along the riverside as far as I can, watching the ducks. Beautiful arty shops line the streets as I walk over to the church and cemetery and then find the famous Baklandet Skydsstation for spinach soup, thick wholemeal bread and cultured butter. It's so warm and inviting, everywhere you look is colourful and textured.

I don't want to stop walking through this frozen landscape, backlit by colourful buildings, ochres, reds, teal blues. The whiteness makes the colours pop. I look up to see the Norwegian men in coats, hats and on the odd occasion, Santa Claus hats.

That night I go to see the comedian Michael McIntyre. It feels strange having to pay to leave our coats in a special coat room and then wait to collect it at the end. The laughter is wonderful, he's fantastic and when we get out, it's snowing again and hard to find a taxi but not for the Norwegians who have come by bike! I chat with an English couple in front of me and they offer to let me join them in their taxi and then refuse to take money as I'm dropped off at my hotel

The snow has set in, I awake to another huge breakfast and a wintry landscape. I spend the day taking photos, having coffee at Dromedar and walking up the hill to the old fort for a beautiful view of the town.

Tiny little colourful wooden cottages line the roads with cute mail boxes, brightly coloured fences, I am transported to another realm of beauty.

On the way back I have apple cake for lunch, because I can.

Trondheim, you are in my blood now. When I return to the hotel, I look up my ancestry that I did through my DNA a few years ago. I'm 70% northern and western European. It all makes sense.