June 15: I experienced a certain measure of distress this morning, when I found that the zipper on my jeans had broken. Einar convinced me that there was no shame in wearing my Viking pants, so that’s what I did. I greatly missed my pockets, however.

We used Einar’s girlfriend’s car, and they drove me to Stavanger. We left right on time. It was a pleasant drive, interrupted by several tunnels of varying lengths (under fjords) and a ferry ride. We arrived in Sandnes, home of Mari Anne, a local historian, and her family, precisely on schedule. We were treated to a tasty lunch. To my amazement, we had buns to make sandwiches with, and no knives or forks. So everybody ate their sandwiches with their hands. You’d have to know Norwegians to know how surprising that was to me. In my experience, Norwegians always cut sandwiches up with a knife and fork. I can only assume they were going the extra mile to make me feel at home. (Only the same thing happened everywhere I went. I can only conclude it was a conspiracy. The idea that I’m mistaken about Norwegian eating habits is obviously absurd) I got to meet their nephew who is staying with them, and who is keenly interested in Vikings. This gave me ample opportunity to hog the conversation.

They took me to a store called Dressman (“Dress” in Norwegian means “suit,” so don’t get the wrong idea). There, in spite of the fact that you rarely see a Norwegian as fat as I am, we were able to find a pair of black chinos that fit me. This was a great comfort to me in my old age.

Then they took me on a tour. We saw the ancient stone circle popularly called Erling Skjalgsson’s Thingstead, though it’s certainly much, much older than Erling. A sort of Stonehenge thing, but the stones are much smaller and there are no capstones. Its original purpose is a mystery, but it provides plenty of scope for speculation.

We went to Sola Ruin Church, which can plausibly be considered the site of the place where Erling worshiped (though not in this building, which must be later). If this is where Erling’s church stood, I’d wager he must be buried under the floor. Nearby, I assume, his farm lay, though no archaeological evidence has been found in that well-worked soil. So I greeted Erling again on his home ground.

Then they showed me the two stone crosses at Tjora, whose age is uncertain but which are certainly among the earliest memorials of Christianity in Norway. There were originally four, but now only two stand, and their location has been moved a bit. Still and all… they are unquestionably early medieval.

We also saw a weathered petroglyph near a farm fence.

Then back home for a delicious supper. They brought out a bunch of books about Vikings to discuss. And I tried to book bus tickets to Haugesund on the Norwegian mass transport web page, with great frustration, as I discovered that my credit card, which I made sure to be acceptable in Norway, is not usable over the internet (validation issues). A resolution was found, but not one that pleased me greatly.