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Norway Journal, Day 4

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June 13: Another stellar day. No matter how I worry, things seem to turn out well. This worries me.

Got up, joined Einar’s friend Tore Ravn for a drive north. First through winding, narrow roads to a lonely farm on the border between Rogaland and Hordaland. There was a stone on the bank of the inlet (we couldn’t get close and it was raining too hard to walk through tall grass anyway) where Raven-Floki, one of the discoverers of Iceland, made a sacrifice before setting out to sea. There were originally three stones there, but two have been removed over the centuries.

Raven-Floki’s stone.

At Førde, we viewed an ancient Thing site which has been made into a park by its owner.

The Law Rock at the Thing site at Forde.

Then we drove north (passing through a tunnel under a fjord) to Stord Island and Fitjar. I’d wanted to see Fitjar because I write about it in my work in progress, and hoped to describe it better. This was the royal farm where King Haakon the Good was born and died. During the reign of King Olaf Haraldsson, its steward was Aslak Fitjaskalle, Erling Skjalgsson’s cousin and murderer.

Einar and I with Haakon the Good at Fitjar.

Then to Moster, on Bomlø island. This is considered the place where the first Christian mass was held in Norway (not true – masses were held under Haakon the Good) under Olaf Trygvesson. Later, in 1024, Olaf Haraldsson would declare the first Christian law in Norway, which included a provision for the freeing of one thrall at every annual Thing. We got to walk through the Moster Amfi, an open-air theater where they do a play about Moster every year. Einar and Tore Ravn are both members of the acting company. A local historian gave us a short lecture. Some of it I didn’t know or had forgotten. They told us he once played Fridtjof Nansen in a film.

Moster Church.
Tore Ravn, Einar, and our guide at the Moster Law Rock.

Then back to Einar’s apartment for a late lunch. Not long after, Cousin Anne Britt came to pick me up for my visit with family. First we went to her place and saw her mother. Anne Britt gave me a Constitution Day medallion, which I’ll be able to wear to future Constitution Day celebrations. Delighted to have it. Like Ibsen, I love wearing medals. Her mother gave me some family photos to keep.

Then to Cousin Anne Grethe’s house, for a cookout. Lots of relatives, lots of good food. A very nice time. Cousin Tor Bjørn gave me a very special gift – a nail from the Viking ship Draken Harald Fairhair, on whose construction crew he’d worked. He’d mounted it on a plaque for hanging on a wall. I’ll treasure that.

The Viking ship nail.

When I complained about trouble I’d had with the European sim card (French) I’d bought, Cousin Tor Bjørn – unknown to me – went out and bought me a Norwegian one, then walked me through setting it up. Much thanks to him.

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Norway Journal, Day 3

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June 12: An unexpectedly splendid day. I was rather glum as I got ready and Einar drove me to Avaldsnes. I was still feeling the walk (climb) in my legs, and the weather forecast predicted rain all day. However, it was only spitting a few drops when I arrived at the Viking Farm, and I sat on a rock to put on my Viking shoes and headed up to our camp. I was told I had fire duty again, but somewhat later in the day. I begged off with some guilt, as I’d been hoping to quit a little early and visit the Nordsjøveien History Center before it closed at 5:00. They said no problem, there were always plenty of volunteers.

The visitor turnout was low at that point. No doubt the weather was a major reason, but I’m also told Sunday is always lighter than Saturday, in terms of attendance.

I decided to get some good pictures with my old digital camera, and made a circuit of the place, snapping whatever seemed interesting. When the rain started coming down harder I ducked into the longhouse, where Kjell the musician was preparing to give his talk about the history of music again. This time I stayed to hear the whole thing. I was intrigued when, at one point, he delivered a farmer’s cattle call, “Kom baas.” I told him later that my father in Minnesota always called the cattle with “Come, boss.” Very likely transmitted directly through the generations from Karmøy.

By the time I got out of the longhouse again, the sun had come out and the day had brightened. More people had shown up to visit. The day had turned out all right after all.

I bought a hot dog for lunch, took some more pictures, and then went up to the camp to tell the leader goodbye. I explained I probably wouldn’t be participating as a Viking at Stavanger [editorial note: I changed my mind later]. Not that I hadn’t had a good time – it was great, and everyone was very cordial. But I’m old and tired, and my host had planned some other things.

An artistic installation on the sound, to give you an idea of what the place looked like when Viking ships sailed through.
Another view of the path up to the Avaldsnes Church. I had plenty of time to contemplate it.

Then I trudged up to the History Center (taking my time. Happy to report I again didn’t have a heart attack). The History Center has been built since my last visit, and I’ve wanted to see it for a long time. It’s devoted to explaining how the North Way trade route formed the germ of Norway as a country, and the importance of Avaldsnes on that route. As I passed the Viking ships’ docks, I noted that some of them were gone now. When I reached the History Center, I bought a ticket and went in. It offers an interesting film about the history of Avaldsnes and its place in Norwegian history, and then you can walk the exhibition using a recorded guide via headphones (English available).

The center has an impressive exhibition, though I think if they want the English speaking tourist trade, they might think about making it a little more accessible. English signage is limited, and I had some trouble figuring out how the sequence of exhibits worked. Also, how to operate the earphone device. In case I haven’t mentioned it, I’m old.

King Harald Fairhair and his Queen Gyda, as portrayed in the History Center.

Still, the center was on my bucket list, and I’ve seen it now.

As Einar was driving me home, crossing the Karmsund Bridge he noticed one of the Viking ships moving south through the sound by sail, headed for Stavanger. He did a quick U-turn in a roundabout and rushed to a spot he knew along the bank, where we were able to take photos of the ship as it passed by. I have never before seen a Viking ship actually under sail. That’s a bucket list item I hadn’t even realized I had.

Really an excellent day.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Echo from the Past,’ by Hervey Copeland

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I figured I’d need to download at least one extra book so I’d have reading material during my Norway trip. As it was, I didn’t have a lot of time for reading, and the book I was on, The Wake (reviewed yesterday) was pretty slow going. But I got to The Echo from the Past on my trip home. It was nice to read a book that featured places I’d visited just days before. But beyond that, this was a disappointing read.

Craig McMillan is an unemployed English journalist and hobby sailor. He’s running out of cash, so he’s interested when an acquaintance tells him he can earn a good amount of money transporting a passenger to Norway. The passenger plans to enter the country unofficially, but Craig is assured that he’s not carrying drugs or wanted by the police. Still, anyone who’s ever watched a Noir film knows that no good can come from a deal like this.

As it turns out, the weather in the North Sea turns tempestuous, and Craig wants to turn back. At that point his passenger, who’s been affable up till now, pulls a gun on him and tells him to sail on. They barely make it to Norway, and the passenger sails away in a rubber inflatable boat. Craig plans on staying in the country for a while and sightseeing, in order to establish his cover story for the police.

But then he learns that his passenger has turned up dead, his throat cut. Then a man with a gunshot wound shows up on his deck. Craig wants to take him to the hospital, but the man says no. He needs to get out of the country as soon as possible. He tells Craig an incredible story about Nazi gold and modern corruption and betrayal.

Craig’s investigative instincts are aroused, but he will find himself up against powerful and ruthless enemies.

The problem with The Echo from the Past was amateurish writing. The author talks too much. He tries to lay everything out for the reader, not trusting their intelligence. Take a sentence like: “It meant that there wouldn’t be any prying eyes sticking their noses in things that were of no concern to them.” Aside from the mixed metaphor, that sentence could be reduced by half and be much more effective. This is a book by someone who has never learned to prune his prose.

Also I found the ending implausible. I don’t recommend The Echo from the Past.

I might mention, however, that the language was pretty subdued. Not much profanity. I’ll say that in its defense.

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Norway Journal, Day 2

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From half way up the slope, looking up at St. Olav’s Church, Avaldsnes

June 11: The weather, which was supposed to be rainy, was not. In fact it was almost a perfect day for a Viking event. Cloudy skies, windy, cool, but warm where the sun shone. Much better for wearing Viking clothes than our usual summer weather in the Midwest.

Einar drove me to Avaldnes Church, the 13th Century stone church where my great-grandfather was baptized, and we walked together down the slope, along the shore and over the footbridge to Bukkøy. About half a mile in all, I’d guess, and much of it on hills. I have described the walk and climb to the church several times in my Erling books, but I’d forgotten how steep and high it is. (I wore my modern shoes to climb, with my Viking shoes in a backpack). I met the leader of Vikingklubben Karmøy, and she told me I’d been assigned to be the fire guard in the longhouse from 1:00 to 3:00. Another woman gave me more detailed instructions. Basically, keep kids out of the fire, close the door if you get more than 40 people inside, put fresh wood on the hearth when it burns low. I felt I could handle this.

The naust (boathouse) at Avaldsnes.

I wandered around to familiarize myself with the layout. Naust (boathouse, used as the great hall when they filmed the first season of Norsemen here). Longhouse. Some other smaller buildings, and lots of tents where reenactors camped. Many booths for merchandise sales. Chatted with Vikings. Met a couple Vikings from Poland. Saw the Viking ships at the docks. Finally 1:00 came around (13:00 in Europe) and I went in to do my job.

Inside the naust.
The longhouse.

A musician was on duty there, telling stories, playing instruments (flute, jaw harp, lyre) for passers-through. We talked about various reenactment matters. Good guy. Then met Kjell, who set up his collection of ancient instruments so he could lecture at 2:00. He told me he was a former member of Wardruna, a famous Viking-period musical group, and has worked on the Vikings: Valhalla TV series and The Northman movie. I was impressed. Very tall fellow. He lectured on the history of music – I gave up trying on to keep excess people out in the end. My efforts were becoming disruptive.

Me and my cousin Edna in the longhouse.
Two of the Viking ships docked at Bukkoy.

After that, I basically wandered about, or found stones to sit on and rest. I was tired and jet-lagged. People kept asking me for photos – I expect to show up in a beer ad one of these days. Finally called it quits at 5:00 p.m. and walked back up to the parking lot. That climb up to the church was as bad as I feared, but on the positive side I didn’t have a heart attack. Most strenuous thing I’ve done in years, though. Nodded off a couple times while Einar was driving me home. It was a good day – really a fine one, and better than my expectations. But I am tired, and rain is predicted tomorrow with considerable confidence.

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Norway Journal, Day One

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The memorable blotkake served for me by Einar and Tore. I forgive the horns on the Viking, because trust me — if you tasted one of these cream cakes, you’d forgive pretty much anything.

June 10: Today and yesterday are but one long, long day in the Einsteinian continuum of eastward travel on a continental scale. I woke up yesterday, spent about nine hours in flight over three legs of the journey, and am now ensconced in the home of a new friend in Haugesund Norway, ready to face my first day playing Viking in actual Viking country, tomorrow morning.

A kindly friend drove me to the airport in Minneapolis. We had lunch before we left, and he patiently listened as I obsessed over every awful travel experience that would “probably” happen to me on this trip. I’m an obsessor, and travel is one of my triggers. The idea of being stranded in a foreign country is high on my list of consummations devoutly to be avoided.

But I made it to the airport despite my fears, put on my warrior face, and went to face the indignities of the baggage check-in and the security check. To my amazement, they didn’t reject my checked bag (just at the limit of allowable size), and nobody arrested me for having a big Viking knife inside it, either. I fumbled a bit over the security scan, but again I wasn’t detained by the authorities. I think they appreciated the laugh.

Then the long, long flight to Reykjavik. I had a book to read on my Amazon Fire, but even so, time seemed to have achieved a semi-viscous consistency. I calmed myself by worrying about swelling ankles and blood clots, as is the custom among old men.

My stopover in Reykjavik was short, but I did manage to lose my Amazon Fire. Didn’t notice it was gone till I was on the outbound plane, and you can’t exactly go back to search at that point. I’ve got my business card inside the hard cover, so maybe the finder will contact me. Or I could check the lost and found on my return trip. But let’s face it, Icelanders survived for centuries as ship wreckers. My Fire is probably just spare parts now. (Note the use of my favorite word, “probably.”) Fortunately, I could read on the Kindle app on my phone.

The flight to Norway was only a couple hours, and palpably shorter in subjective experience. The feeder flight I took to Haugesund from Oslo was almost too short to mention – except that they offered free snacks, which is pretty classy these days. (It was SAS. A free candy bar deserves a plug. Especially when it’s Freya, the Norwegian brand.) The Haugesund airport is not actually located in Haugesund, but across the sound on Karmøy island, which happens to be the home of my forefathers. The farm where my great-grandfather was born almost neighbors the airport. Einar Berdinessen and Tore Ravn Ottesen, my two new friends, met me with great fuss, then drove me to Einar’s apartment in Haugesund, where I’ll be staying for this festival. Supper was exquisite Norwegian smørbrød (open faced sandwiches), and for dessert a bløtkake (cream cake) of great delectability, with a cartoon of a Viking drawn on top.

The Five Foolish Virgins
And now, six foolish virgins.

Later Einar gave me a car ride around Haugesund and Karmøy, where he grew up. (At Hinderaker farm, the likely spot where Asbjorn Selsbane paused to view the royal farm on his way to murder Thore Sel. If you’re a saga fan, you’ll know what I’m talking about. And I’m writing about the event in my Work in Progress.) We looked at some Bronze Age grave mounds on Karmøy, and the Five Foolish Virgins, an ancient array of standing stones. Legend says they are all that remains of five heathen girls who taunted St. Olaf, but they’re actually prehistoric.

All of this was balm to a worrier’s soul. The fears of the day had failed to come true (I’d never actually worried about losing the Amazon Fire), and the fuss these people made over me raised my spirits infinitely.

To crown all, Pres. Biden and the CDC announced that the rule requiring that Americans get a Covid test within 24 hours of flying home would be suspended on Sunday. That test was one of my major causes of worry all through the day.

Is it possible God is not against this trip?

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Wodehouse and other trivia

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Above, for no other reason than that somebody posted it on Facebook, a bit of an interview with P. G. Wodehouse. I’m guessing it’s from the 1960s or so, and he had a long and productive career still ahead of him at that point. An inspiration to us all.

I note that somebody blocked sharing on the video of Norwegian Constitution Day festivities I posted yesterday. Just as well, I suppose. I thought it was from the same day, but I’ve since seen actual 2022 footage, and everybody in the Royal Family looks older. I won’t delete the post – a man might as well stand behind his honest errors and take his lumps.

The May 17 celebration last night went well, and I think my lecture was a success. So I was told, anyway. We had an actual Hardanger fiddle player there, dressed in a bunad (folk costume), which lent plausibility to the proceedings.

Gradually I am completing my preparations for my Great Adventure in Norway. Today I finally succeeded in alerting my credit card company to the fact that I’ll be traveling to unaccustomed spaces. They have a button for that purpose on their member’s page online, but pushing that button produces no results at all, like those “Close Door” buttons in elevators. So today I called them, worked my way through the phone tree, and got the notification done. I looked about me for the praise of the multitude, but alas, I was by myself. So I tell you now.

Next challenge, activating the European sim card I bought for my cell phone.

I think I’m making progress on my Norwegian language comprehension. I decided yesterday that I was understanding just a little more of the news broadcasts on Norwegian state radio. Not enough to be of much practical use yet, but something. A little. Maybe. I hope.

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Syttende Mai, 2022

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https://youtube.com/watch?v=Lo9lo_z6qDw

Above is a video of the Syttende Mai (17 of May, Constitution Day) festivities in Oslo. I think it was recorded today. The big celebrations were cancelled for the last couple years; I’m told this year’s had record crowds everywhere.

We see the Royal Family greeting the people, as is traditional for the holiday, from the balcony of the royal palace (surely the least beautiful royal palace in the world). The old king you see there is the same Harald you saw as a little boy in “Atlantic Crossing.”

Norwegians celebrate Constitution Day as their great national holiday for peculiar historical reasons. They adopted a constitution in a rash bid for independence in 1814. Sweden, which had just been awarded Norway as spoils of the Napoleonic wars, quickly stepped in to quash that notion. But they allowed the Norwegians to keep the constitution, with some alterations.

Thus the constitution became the center of independence-minded sentiment over several generations. Through the 90 years of union with Sweden, the celebration of May 17 was a quiet act of protest. Once independence was achieved in 1905, Syttende Mai possessed a traditional, sentimental value that could not be dislodged, even if anyone had wished such a thing.

I’m posting early today because I’ll be lecturing on Syttende Mai for a celebration banquet tonight. I hope I get it right.

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The Norwegian word for ‘overthinking’ is ‘overtenkning’

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No book review tonight. No music either, but I posted the short video above about Stavanger. Because I’m going there this summer, God willing. When I think about actually going, I’m terrified. I’m fairly certain I’ll make enemies wherever I go, not because I mean to, but because I’m socially clueless. So I’m concentrating on the mechanics of planning, and trying not to think about the experience itself.

If that makes any sense.

Part of these mechanics is my ongoing effort to improve my listening comprehension of the language. I’m doing that, as you may recall, through listening to Norwegian radio. And I think I’m making progress, unless I’m deluding myself (there’s some precedent for that). When I listen to the news on the NRK (state radio) channel now, I can sometimes understand about 50% of what’s being said. This is substantial progress, considering the fact that at the beginning I only caught a word or two here or there.

I notice a strange development as I listen. If I listen intently, trying to understand, I tend to lose the thread. If I listen lightly, with half a brain, as you might say, I seem to catch it better. The effort itself seems to be an impediment. Sort of a zen thing, I suppose. Or Jedi. “Do or do not; there is no try.”

I’m trying to remember that.

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Happy Cuckoo Month

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Naught to review tonight. It’s been a quiet day. No translation work. I started an article for the American Spectator; haven’t worked out the conclusion yet.

Kind of a nasty day, weather-wise. It started clear but cool, and now clouds and rain have set in. Still, it’s above freezing, and the precipitation isn’t snow.

Call it Norwegian weather. Vestland weather, anyway.

Speaking of Norwegian weather, my Norwegian almanac says that today is St. Gaius’ Day. Known in old times as the beginning of Gjøkmåned – Cuckoo Month. The Scandinavian calendar in old times began and ended its months in the middle of our months. The first day of Cuckoo Month was considered a good day to plant peas, I am reliably informed.

I’ve shown you a video of a past Viking festival at Bukkøy, Avaldsnes, Norway, where I’ll be going this summer. But that’s the first weekend. The following weekend, God willing, I’ll be at the Viking Market at Hafrsfjord in Stavanger. Above is video from the 2018 market.

I note that in their combat they allow guys to fight without helmets. Different rules, I guess. Neither my group nor any group I’ve run into in this country allow that, for safety reasons. Though it’s doubtless more historically authentic.

I have no plans to fight in Norway. I shall bring the power of my wisdom instead.

I hear they’re expecting ten Viking ships for the festival. Not bad at all.

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Gjest Baardsen

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Nothing to review tonight. I have a sudden break in translation work (it only began this afternoon, and if recent history is any guide it won’t last long. As I fervently hope it won’t).

The video clip above (in Norwegian, but much of it is without dialogue) is from a 1939 Norwegian movie called “Gjest Baardsen.” For some reason it occurred to me to write a little about this character tonight. I am by no means an expert on the man, but I’ve read a little.

Gjest Baardsen (1791-1849) is sometimes called the Robin Hood of Norway. But in fact Jesse James would be a closer historical parallel (though his legend admittedly has a more Robin Hood-ish flavor).

Gjest already had a long rap sheet in 1827 when he was sentenced to life imprisonment in Akershus Fortress in Oslo (a major tourist attraction today for many reasons. I’ve been there, but not as long as Gjest stayed). During this imprisonment he did something visionary and memorable – he wrote his autobiography. In this book he portrayed himself as a clever rogue and a defender of the common folk, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor (as you can see in the clip above). A historian named Erling T. Gjelsvik published a serious biography in 2000. His conclusion was that in real life, Gjest stole from pretty much anybody who didn’t lock up their possessions well.

Not a real surprise.

He was pardoned in 1845, and supported himself until his death in 1849 by selling his books.

As a phenomenon of the 19th Century, however, Gjest is interesting. He was contemporary with my great hero, Hans Nielsen Hauge the lay preacher. Although it would be hard to imagine two characters more different from one another, there are similarities in their cultural impact. Both were common men who became famous through taking advantage of their literacy and the expanding publishing industry. A burgeoning, literate public was hungry for reading matter aimed at them. Those whose hearts were set on higher things read Hauge. The more carnal turned to Gjest Baardsen. And many, no doubt, read both.

Eventually, books like Gjest’s would be parents and grandparents to innumerable paperback novels, tabloid newspapers, blogs, and reality TV. But Gjest was, in one country, a sort of a grubby pioneer.