Revolutionary Kindness at Løvetann Café | Bergen, Norway
Løvetann Café & Bistro: A Vegetarian Oasis in Bergen
After an arduous, 18-mile (28.97 km) day hiking through the mountains in Bergen, Norway, I was eager to replenish my energy with a meal.
While traveling, I have the controversial tendency to go hyper-minimalist. Instead of spending money on take-out, I keep a meager supply of minute rice and canned soup to supplement meals. (Or, as it happened when I arrived in Bergen on a national holiday that turned the roadways into gushing people-rivers, I might splurge on a plant-based wrap from 7-Eleven or a Coop type.)
On this day, however, I had already resolved to do better. The combination of extensive exercise and day-long overhead sun made it seem more acceptable to indulge in a restaurant.
My excitement was palpable. Earlier, I had found a vegetarian cafe called Løvetann Café & Bistro that sounded quite promising. It seemed to have a homey appeal, which I knew would only amplify my heart’s contentment.
Little did I realize just how homey and heartful the experience would become.
Arriving at Løvetann Café
The walk to Løvetann was only 5 minutes from the co-living space I was staying at. Cobblestone drives and character-rich buildings graced the whole journey. The late dusk was a mellow backdrop to the colorful homes and the nearby downtown clamor.
As Google’s crowd gauge had promised, the ambiance was relatively quiet when I arrived at Løvetann Café. In fact, it was so relaxed that the staff weren’t immediately available to greet me.
For a wallflower, that was fine and well. I found the menus stacked by the register and began to peruse.
My chest sank when I saw that all of the menus were in Norwegian. While beautiful, it’s a language for which my knowledge ends at “Hallo” (Hello) and “Ingen Norsk” (No Norwegian).
I wondered if I’d found a local, native venue. It’s happened before–in more remote towns like Åndalsnes, and less Westernized places like Busan–where people’s English is charmingly meek. I find those experiences enjoyable, and even humbling, for they are reminders of the myriad expressions of life.
With anticipatory joy, I put my hands away and waited for a member of staff.
Navigating the Food & Our Languages
It wasn’t long before the smiling service woman appeared from the kitchen.
“Hallo,” she greeted me. The braids hanging over her shoulders were so quintessentially Nordic that our communication tango seemed imminent.
“Sorry,” I whispered, letting the subtle embarrassment of my English/French/Korean language repertoire surface on my cheeks. “Ingen Norsk.”
Her smile somehow got even warmer. “We have English menus!”
So Løvetann wasn’t a mother-language-only joint after all. That wasn’t necessarily surprising; most Nordic people seem to have at least a working knowledge of English. Especially in tourism-heavy places like Bergen.
She sorted through the menus and found an English version, which must have been at the bottom of the pile. Glad to swallow my mistake, I quickly found a dish that would satiate my expended energy. I proposed my order to the woman behind the counter.
“Ah. No more fresh avocado, I think,” she said. After a quick call to the kitchen, she confirmed our conundrum.
Luckily, another tendency of mine is to have two menu selections ready to fly. We agreed on something else that seemed equally as delightful. I paid with my credit card, then took her invitation to sit anywhere that was comfortable.
And at that moment, I realized I had forgotten to ask for toast. No bother, I told myself–I could go without. That’s happened before, too.
Unexpected Payment Issues
“Oh! Come back up,” the server called to me. “Your card didn’t work.”
More perplexed than concerned, I sauntered back to the register with my wallet and tried the payment again.
Declined. Chip method–declined. Yet another swipe–declined.
Cursing Capital One, I brought out my various alternatives. As I continued to swipe, tap, and chip, it became obvious that none of my cards were going to get through. It seemed like the cafe’s wireless connection was down.
After what must have been my tenth attempt, the server rallied the help of the chef. He and she did some troubleshooting, but to no avail. They asked if I had a local bank card or cash.
It was one of the rare moments where I regretted not carrying any bills. I bowed my head and thanked them for their time.
A Generous Resolution
“You don’t have to leave,” the chef said. “We will feed you.”
“No, no.” I waved my hands to emphasize my point: “You deserve to be paid. I won’t let you do that.”
Without even having discussed it, he and the server were in agreement. They both insisted that they were glad to provide for me, that I shouldn’t worry about it. The chef’s final insistence momentarily quelled my inner rebuttals.
“We are kind people. You are hungry. Let us feed you,” he said. “Now, what is it you wanted?”
The chef proceeded to go off-menu with me, dreaming up a custom vegetarian omelet with a side of greens. To my astonishment, he also suggested a slice of sourdough toast–exactly what I’d forgotten to order the first time.
When I took my seat again, the woman offered to bring me tea or coffee time and time again. It seemed that once their generosity was established, it proved fathomless.
Enjoying the Meal
As I waited for the meal, several patrons came and went, using the card machine without issue. Most of them must have been locals with bank cards. A few had cash in lieu of credit, which of course deepened my guilt for the whole ordeal. How simple it would have been to visit an ATM beforehand!
While I played with numbers, the staff reset the credit card machine. I calculated that my original 270 krone meal would have exchanged to about $25 USD. Now, having a number for their kindness, I was determined to somehow double that amount for their final payment.
The chef brought the plate to my table with the humble warmth of a friend. He was kind enough to offer tea, too. But with my ingrained cultural tendency to not accept hand-outs, I declined again.
He had produced a stunning show of food–let the photo above prove it. The omelet was immaculate, filled to the brim with vegetables and the unbeatable creaminess of European cheese. The greens were a crisp palette cleanser, and to my delight, the toast had the zest of a true sourdough. Altogether, it was a well-balanced meal that was the perfect end cap for a long-journeyed day.
And indeed, as I had originally hoped, it warmed my heart like a hearth aglow.
One Last Effort to Pay Løvetann
At the end of the meal, I puffed my resolute chest and insisted upon paying one last time.
The woman with braids in her hair tutted, shaking her head. This was a kindness that they wanted to give; there was no changing their minds.
She and the chef waved as I stepped back into the calm night air, wishing me a joyous adventure.
Human Kindness as a Baseline
This story remains like polished gold in my memory. The love that the team at Løvetann bestowed upon me that night was utterly foreign, and unexpectedly sweet. With how quickly their offer came, it seemed like giving was the natural thing to do.
In the United States, such encounters are unheard of. Even homeless people, who have to resort to begging for food, often do not receive the kindness of a stranger. It’s rare for passersby to smile at a homeless person, let alone make eye contact or offer them food.
And yet, as a foreigner in the vibrant community of Bergen, Norway, I was taken care of as family. Not “family” as in “related by blood” or “immediate loved ones” (which is often the insular scope of our affection in the States)… but “family” as in “fellow human being.”
Community & Kindness in Norway and Beyond
Right there, in a simple demonstration of generosity, demonstrates the effects of different societal structures.
Many European countries–particularly in Scandinavia–emphasize community wellness. As societies, they promote welfare generosity, institutional quality, income equality, autonomy, and social trust and cohesion. Hence, Norway, Sweden, and Denmark are consistently ranked among the world’s happiest countries.
On the other hand, the United States tends to favor individualism, grit, and capitalistic reward. While economically aggrandizing (in some ways), people can be left feeling isolated. Minority and poor populations in particular are overtly marginalized. Our focus on personal gain leaves the nation feeling more divided than united. Maybe it’s not so surprising that in 2024, the United States ranked 23rd in overall happiness.
In terms of conscientiousness, we have a long way to grow.
A Lesson of Generosity & Connectedness from Bergen
As we rush through life, it might be worthwhile to work at softening the brick and mortar that surrounds so many of our hearts. It’s this self-protection that keeps communities feeling more like islands floating out at sea, instead of one nation (world) united.
For this traveler, a “simple meal” went quite a long way. It has me deeply questioning a lifetime of guardedness and possession. Now, I’m exploring how to foster connections much deeper–and more meaningful–with the beings I’m fortunate to share this existence with.
My deepest appreciation goes out to the souls who provided for me at Løvetann Café.
Thank you for awakening me to the power of questionless generosity.
⋆.ೃ࿔ :･⚝⭑