The Winds of Thor are Blowing Cold

Something has awoken the Scythian in me. (The last distraction I need right now is combination of Nordic curiosity and wikipedia addiction, but that's what has happened). Suddenly, I have some need to boat through the North Sea, scale fjords, tramp through strawberry fields in Sweden, summer-ski in the land of the God of Skiing, camp under the midnight sun, see old wooden kirks and red fishing cabins, dig through dead history and languages of the North, wander through millenia old grave markers rock carvings and runestones--a need to scratch some ancestral itch.



Soon I will be back to dreaming of Papua New Guinea, New Zealand and Marquesas, to be sure. Sunshine, beaches. Exotic fruit and spicy sauces. But somehow today, I have the North on the mind. Idle daydreams of Scandinavia. How exactly does a North American move to Norway or Sweden? Work for an oil company or a bank?



Daydreams will just have to be daydreams--for now. But I enjoy them. Soon, I will make it back. And then, I can explore the far reaches of the North. In the West, Bergen, the Faroe Islands, Iceland, Greenland. In the East, Finnland, Aaland, Öland, Latvia, Estonia. Last time I stretched from North to South. Maybe I should finally buy that bike and place a bike-ferry-and-train trek. That way I might lose this 10 pounds I've just gained back.