The drive to Stryn was a somewhat uneventful trip.  It took me nearly 2 hours from my stay of last night - Sogndal.  Don't even ask me how they pronounce some of these cities.  My best means of trying to tell you how they pronounce Stryn would be like that of Streeeeen.  Something like that.  Anyway, I woke up in my car this morning in the parking lot of some store which I had guessed wouldn't open until near 10.  I figured I could sleep in if you will.  When I woke up it was about 8 and I was bummed to see it had begun raining overnight.  It wasn't hard, but I knew it meant it would be a gray day.  I quickly realized that I should be grateful as yesterday was spectacular and that is the day I took the fjord cruise.  So, I rolled back over, if you can call it that in the cramped space of my car and dozed off for another couple of hours. 

The town was busy for that of its size.  I found my way to the supermarket as I had to use the toilet and figured I could get some breakfast.  The clerk told me that the bathroom was across the street in the large building one block away.  I acted so surprised and said, "you mean to tell me they make you go over there to go to the bathroom every time you need to go?"  She said "Oh no, there is a bathroom here for us."  Typical I thought.  When I got over there to the building she told me about, I was pleased to find a shopping mall which not only had the bathroom I needed, but that of a better supermarket.  The other one is called Remi 1000 or something like it.  I have quickly learned only to go into it if I really need something as it is not the greatest of stores.  A K-Mart if you will...  After getting some breakfast, I went over to the library, or Bibliothek as they call it, to use the internet.  Once done with that task, it was off to the road. 

My first stop one the road was a glacier museum near the largest glacier on the European continent.  It cost me about 12 American dollars and even though it was quite small, it was pleasant none the less.  I must of left there at about 1 as it is 2 hours from Stryn and I arrived here at 3.  I was pleased to find that it is a rather nice city, located between towering mountain tops and a beautiful fjord.  I wanted to check my email again so off to the library I went.  I had to sign in for a 4 o'clock appt. which gave me time to put together my previous journal entry.  This involves selecting usually up to 12 pictures, resizing and optimizing them, writing my story if any and then transferring them to something like a cd or disk to upload on the computer I will be using.  Interestingly enough, often the most challenging thing about this is selecting the images I want to put up.  Some days I have taken so many the choices are quite hard. 

Having uploaded my images and journal, I headed to the tourist office here in Stryn where I got directions from a very cute girl in the center.  Auke had told me the Norweigan girls aren't very attractive as they tend to be rather large.  He must not of seen this one...  With directions in hand, off I headed into the Norwegian countryside.  The farm is 3 km out of town and if I hadn't gotten the directions I did, I would not of been able to find it.  When I got there, I was somewhat challenged as there was not a soul was around.  There was a barn and several small buildings, two of which were houses.  A chained dog kept barking at me with his tail wagging the whole time while four beautiful Norwegian horses in the nearby coral looked on curiously.  I walked about for nearly 10 minutes, including to the home up the drive which I figured was probably the owners' house.  There were no cars there so I didn't even bother to knock.  I went back to the tourist office and had the girl, yes the cute one, call them to see if they were there.  She said they told her they would be home the rest of the night and they were sorry they weren't there when I arrived.  Not that they necessarily should have been as I arrived so late in the day and I seem to have recalled telling them I'd be there by mid-day at the latest. 

Sorry, your browser doesn't support Java(tm). When I drove back to the farm, I went up to the house above the several buildings before mentioned and was immediately greeted by the nicest of young ladies.  (she was cute also Auke!)  She asked me if I was "Tom Hall" with a smile as if I was some type of celebrity or something.  I said yes and we exchanged a couple of kind words with one another.  Then we waked down the hill to what I would discover would be my accommodations for the night.  It was a lovely home with all the decorations one would imagine in  such a home.  The walls were covered with pictures and there were various knick-knacks all about.  The young girl, whose name forsakes me at the moment, introduced me to her brother Hans who was with a girl named Janet whom he had met in New Orleans recently.  She came back here to visit him in Norway.  It was then that their mother arrived and greeted me, a lovely woman named Torild.  We all chatted for a while and when my schedule came up, they invited me to have dinner with them.  Mom wanted to make fish and daughter wanted tacos.  After my disclaimer that I won't eat fish, the tacos won out if only temporarily as the daughter who was to make them realized it was too late and she needed to work.  So, as my heading of this entry stated, it would be pancakes for dinner.  Torild showed me up two flights of stairs which in reality were more like ladders to the lofts above.  I'd be in the loft she told me, yet I actually had the entire home to myself.  She was so delightful to talk with and seemed to be fascinated with my journal, asking me about my pending visit with Asbjorn the next day.  I chuckled as I realized she had been serious about following my travels on this journal. I find it is feedback like that that compels me to continue with my journal entries.  After all the chat ended, I was left to myself to shower and do a load of clothes in a type of washing machine I had never seen. 

When I was all freshened up, I wasn't sure if I'd be summoned for dinner or I was to simply to go up to the house.  I chose the latter.  Upon arrival, I was greeted by Torild and her husband Amund.  Amund was a very tall, thin and handsome man.  I wasn't quite sure how to read him initially, but towards the end of the night I would become quite fond of him.  He had been born on this farm only to return some years later to assume the sole ownership.  The farm had been in his family since it was built in the 1800's and Amund actually attended school in the one-room school house on the property which served the community's children up until 40 years ago.  It has been kept in excellent shape and currently is used to teach riding skills to students who come to the farm to ride the horses there.  Prior to dinner, I took the opportunity to show my slideshow from last year to Torild and Amund.  In all the time I have been sharing this with people, I don't believe anyone has ever enjoyed it as much as Amund.  He couldn't stop laughing at a picture of a highland cow from Scotland.  Also, he made such an astute observation about a picture I took in Belgium last year of a sculpture on the facade of a building that had such a deep meaning.  I knew then that I would make a copy of the slideshow for him to enjoy and study at his leisure. 

Sorry, your browser doesn't support Java(tm). Dinner was pleasant enough with the usual small talk.  There was pancakes with jam and bacon.  You'd put some bacon and jam on the pancake, fold it in half and use a fork and knife to cut it.  I actually enjoyed it and to be quite honest, do not know why we Americans don't have it for meals other than for breakfast.  After dinner, Torild was to drive Hans her son and his friend Janet up the mountain for a romantic evening the family cabin.  Once up the mountain by car, a half hour walk would be required to reach the remote cabin.  I assumed it to be a romantic evening for them as Janet made sure to inquire about a cork screw... 

Once they had left, Amund took me upstairs to the computer where I could check email and upload my journal.  About the time I finished, Torild returned and the three of us went down to the area where my "house" was and the barn.  I wanted to take some pictures for my journal as well as some for them.  We spent nearly an hour talking about the special breed of horse they raise as well as other things about the history of the farm.  It was quite amazing, let me tell you.  They are in the process of restoring a building for baking and brewing that dates back to the early 1800s.  To appreciate the significance of all of this, you really have to understand how remote they were (and are) at this location.  Amund disappeared and left Torild and I alone as she showed me both the schoolhouse and to my surprise, the  family museum which was adjoined to the other holiday rental near that of mine and the barn.  It was amazing, butter turns, weaving apparatuses (ok, I admit, I didn't know how to spell that without using spell check), Sorry, your browser doesn't support Java(tm). various tools from the period, and perhaps most interesting of note were that of the photographs.  One in particular caught my eye and I thought it would be nice to share it with you.  It was a series of pictures of the various men how had lived on the farm.  The first was born in the early 1800's and his name was Hans.    It was quite apparent how proud Torild was of her heritage.  As she should be, the people who settled this area were simply amazing in their accomplishments. 

Torild and I said our farewell after the museum and schoolhouse tour as she indicated it was not likely that she'd be waking up at six in the morning to see me off, as is usually the case when I leave at such an hour with my host.  And it is with all of that that brings me here to the campground where I am waiting for my clothes to dry.  I probably shouldn't be here as I am not camping,  but it was the tourist office that suggested I go to the campground to do my laundry as there is no such facility in Stryn.  I wouldn't of felt so bad if I had had to pay for the use.   Ok, I didn't feel "so" bad...

Upon my return to the farm, all was very quiet.  I contemplated having my cigar inside by a fire while looking at all the pictures on the wall, but thought better as it might have left a lingering odor in the home.  So, outside I stood at near midnight having my cigar while looking down onto the fjord far, far below.  It was a beautiful sight indeed, with the occasional car or truck headlights going down the adjacent roadsides barely even needing their headlights at this hour as it was very light out.  I was surprised to see the horses were still out, as they had been in the barn earlier in the evening but were let out for me to photograph.  It was about then that a car began coming down the hill.  It was Amund and he must of been reading my mind as he said he came down to put the horses away.  I wondered if he'd come over for a chat before going back up the hill, but he didn't'.  He gave me a pleasant goodnight and left me alone with my thoughts. 

Nothing of any significance else happened this night with the exception of the terrible nightmares I had going to sleep.  They were continual, meaning even when I would wake up and fall back to sleep they would return.  Interestingly enough, one of the main characters in the nightmares was that of a girl named Madie whom I briefly dated last fall.  No, she wasn't a terrorist, but she kept telling me different things to do.  Kind of like a honey-do list if you will, all the time while I was trying to fight the terrorist.  I have no clue why I would dream of such things, especially about Madie, but such is life.  I certainly can understand the terrorist aspect of the dream though as those thoughts play frequently on my mind these days.  I am ever so cognoscente (did I spell that right) of people around me as I walk the streets in these towns.  I left my flag at home so to speak, but I have to be careful when I tell people I am American.  I think the majority of Arab looking people I see are Turkish as they seem to make up most of the minorities in some of these countries.   It is not that I necessarily fear being directly subjected to such a direct attack as a dirty-bomb or biological or chemical attack,  but I do live very close to a likely target back in the states and when such an event happens (yes, I said "when") and the causalities are in the many of thousands,  I do not particularly care to be around for the aftermath of major civil unrest.  Ok, enough of that subject. 

I guess that is all there is to write in this journal entry.  I have fallen behind a bit in my writing due to both falling in love and my recent busy schedule.  On my next entry, I will introduce you to a small one-horse town up further north in Norway and an interesting man whose name is Asbjorn.  You'll never guess what was in his basement...  Take care...