Vikings Have Landed

Vikings have landed and they are in the living room. First the disclaimers: Vikings never wore those horned helmets, and viking is actually a verb, meaning to go wandering or exploring (or pillaging and plundering depending on who is writing the definition). More properly, I should say: "Norsemen are in the living room," but that lacks a certain frisseur. When the doorbell rang, I was in my pajamas, so I quickly scurried upstairs. By the time I came down, Morris and the Norwegians were in the living room. They were here because they come from Voss, in Norway, where my husband's sister lives, and had been referred to us as part of their mission to explore this part of Scotland in advance of the first major landing of the Norrona in the nearby harbor of Scrabster.

Norsemen have been doing this for a few centuries in this part of the world, but they didn't used to ring doorbells. These Norsemen are reporters for the local paper in Voss and they want to write up what features this part of the world offers to those who might want to take the ferry that will make its way from Norway to here and to the Faroe Islands and to Shetland, and to Iceland. I am pleased that they are here and also pleased that the Norrona will be coming into Scrabster harbor--just 10 miles from here.

I am pleased because having come from Indiana, I relish every opportunity to get on the sea and to go, well, a viking. I am here, in part, because Norwegians in Cayman told my brother that we are part of the Norwegian clan that inhabited this part of Scotland. I am also pleased because I have friends who also have enough viking wanderlust in them to want to meet us in Reykjavik and explore the parts of Iceland mentioned in the epic sagas. Recently when I was mumping about being sick again with the shingles, my friend reminded me of our upcoming adventure. It was just what I needed to cheer me up. And now as my enthusiasm was in danger of being swamped with anti-virals and malaise, the Norsemen arrived.