AM I A VIKING AFTER ALL?

Here is the view this afternoon from the cabin at the lake, where I spent the weekend with my friend and soulmate Grete. The lake is called Tyrifjorden. It takes me forty-five minutes to drive to the cabin from my house in Oslo. This is a summer view:

This is old viking country. This is the Norwegian cultural landscape. When I sit on the terrace winter, spring, summer, autumn, I don't see anything but scenery and water and an occasional eagle - no cars, no modern day sounds, maybe only a boat or two. I imagine then that this is exactly what it looked like when King Olaf II of Norway (995-1030) grew up and played in the fields just down the road on his step-father's - Sigurd Syr's - farm. His younger half-brother - Harald Hårdråde - also grew up here. (He is well known to the English)! Together the two brothers fought the Battle of Stiklestad, when Harald was only fifteen years old, and in which he saw his half-brother Olaf die. He himself later died in the Battle of Stamford Bridge in 1066. If he hadn't been defeated, all you English out there would have been Norwegian!

Bønsnes Church, Røise, Tyrifjorden

Yesterday evening at sunset Grete and I walked to the church at Bønsnes, one of Norway's oldest medieval churches. The story of this church is that Olaf II came sailing across Tyrifjorden in a dreadful storm (how there can be a storm on this lake is beyond me, but perhaps both landscape and climate were different back then), and he promised God (Olaf christened Norway and is also know as Holy Olaf) that if he and his crew survived the ordeal he would build a church on his step-father's grounds. So Bønsnes Church is one of Norway's few votive churches - a church raised to honour a promise to God. It might be true. It might be a myth. But it's a good story.

You wouldn't see an airplane splitting the clouds in Olaf's day

As usual Grete and I can talk endlessly, for hours. We've been friends from the age of seven and have shared so many experiences, so many confidences, so many thoughts and ideas. Her awe at the scenery and the beauty and the history of the places I showed her this weekend is delightful to watch. I love her enthusiasm, and I can't wait to see the photos she took!

But words became scarce when we drove past the site of our national trauma on the way home this afternoon. Flowers and candles still line the road. The last rays of sunshine were just seeping through over the idyllic island of Utøya.