The Fjord Region: It's a Small World After All

Things have been moving fast—uncovering Viking history, tracing our lineage, filling in the outline of a story I only half-knew. I’ve been really enjoying getting to know our film director and creative producer. Making them laugh has been a highlight.

In Norheimsund, before our tour guide arrived, Chris instructed us to go take a breather. He had to go pick up our tour guide and wanted the introduction to be on film. So, Karen and I found a bench near the water and just sat for twenty minutes, soaking in the sights, sounds, and smells. It was so peaceful...

I watched the preschool kids in bright orange vests filling buckets with sand and rocks, wading into the cold water warmed by the sun. 

What a way to learn. 

What a way to play. 

What a way to live. 

I had a yearning to join them and play. There is something grounding about watching children learn about the world that way—no shortcuts, just presence.

Then Johan arrived!

He is a genealogist and a great teacher, and within less than thirty seconds, I got a good vibe from his energy. I could tell he was genuinely excited to show us what he had uncovered. I was amazed by everything he knew about our ancestors. I was also wondering if he is related to us because, as the days pass, it seems like everyone is our cousin.

He has this authentic energy—calm, kind, warm—that pulled me right out of my morning fog. The excitement... what does he have in store for us?

We learned a lot in Norheimsund about the generosity of our great-great-grandparents, their work ethic, drive, and community spirit. When Johan described what he had learned about them, it was almost like he was describing our family to this day. From learning about a female entrepreneur who had a child out of wedlock and was embraced by her family (sounds familiar), to family members donating an angel statue to the church, to the artistry of blacksmithing tying in that creative thread, I was in awe.

Another kiss from the sky was that the angel statue reminded us, at first, of my children. Then, after a closer look I saw my dad. Maybe all this fresh air is getting to me.

"Brave. Hard workers. Built on this soil. Survived without GPS or AI. Battle-tested people."

That is the lineage. That is us.

One spoiler (I am really bad with surprises—they get me so excited, so here you go) ... After an hour of getting to know us, the guardian of the church took us behind the scenes and up wooden stairs. Not going to lie, I was a little nervous a spider or bird was going to startle me, though that didn't happen. Something even better happened! I got to ring a bell from the 1300s.

I have never rung a church bell before, and it was funnily, actually one of those lifelong goals I never knew I had. So cross that off my bucket list. Ring-a-ding-dong—in Norway!

Hello Norway, the Norheim sisters are here!

(Oh, and just as a by the way — this was a huge deal because, back in the day, someone cracked this very bell by simply ringing it. They trusted me to not repeat history, I guess!)

If you know me, you know the number 13 is one of my favorite numbers. Why, you ask? Well, that was the day I entered this world, and my firstborn did as well.

For some reason though, I keep seeing the number 13 everywhere—from the roads we were driving on to the pew number our ancestors once sat in. At first, it felt like a little hug from the universe. That's deep. Haha. I think Karen is rubbing off on me. Nothing new, just follow the lead. She is my big sister after all.

I've stopped ignoring the number and started wondering what it means. In old Norse tradition, 13 is associated with wholeness, the divine feminine, and cycles of renewal. It is also linked to Freya, the Norse goddess of love, magic, and intuition, symbolizing trust in one's inner wisdom and a deeper nurturing of emotional connections. That feels fitting because it's exactly what this journey has been about for me. Even more special, Freya has always been one of Karen's favorite Norse goddesses, making the whole thing feel like one more meaningful thread woven into this adventure.

The hotel we stayed in felt familiar. Sounds weird, but I am good at bringing you weird. Even the tile floor felt familiar, almost like I’ve walked there before. At some point, I found a pamphlet in my dad's book about this exact hotel. Wish we had more time to unravel that.

We ended the night with a nice dinner. Karen connected with a bus driver, and it was like she met the Michael Jordan of drivers. She was so impressed by the driving skills it takes to drive a car, let alone a huge bus, through winding roads.

I must say, I am a terrible backseat driver (mostly with my husband), but none of those unfavorable characteristics have shone through yet. It helps that Karen is doing a great job at driving. I think if I was driving, she would be a wreck on edge, so I'll let her take the wheel for this trip because I am a nice sister.

We drove off to Flåm to catch a train ride on the Flåm Railway.

The train ride introduced us to Nora—a mysterious young woman, or maybe a spirit, who appears near the waterfall and dances and sings to travelers passing through. The mountains moved beside us. The waterfalls were magical.

I think Karen and I secretly wished we could be up on the waterfall side dancing with Nora. It would be great footage for Chris.

We met a woman on the train who teaches art where my stepmother taught and lives nearby to us back home. Small world.

On the train ride, Karen surprised me with a gift. I love presents. It was a compass inscribed with, "One's back is vulnerable unless one has a sister." That is so true, she has always had my back, and vice versa. I think I needed that more than she knew. It was so special and truthfully, The compass to my heart.

It felt right—this whole journey is about finding direction, after all. Not just geographically, but in a deeper sense of understanding where you come from and what that means for where you're going.

And there was Frank. 

A familiar face in an unfamiliar place is worth more than you realize until it happens. He's easy to be around, the type of person that takes life as it comes. He gives great big bear hugs, and I was so happy to reconnect.

We have only known Frank and his family for a few years now, but it feels like we have known them our whole lives. I love that being around people with that kind of energy fills me up. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he is so fun and makes me laugh.

We went to a Viking village, it was absolutely extraordinary—started by Chief Viking Georg (same name as my dad's father, which felt like a small hello from somewhere) in the late 1990s, completed in 2017, and built at a cost of over twenty-five million. The architecture, the grass roofs, the sense of permanence in something so ancient—I loved all of it. I'd love a grass roof at home. My husband would never go for it, but maybe if I'm nice enough, he’ll consider it.

We met a guide named Thor and by the end of the day, I dubbed him my little Viking. He asked if he could come back to the U.S. with me. I said yes—but only if he brings the ship and his dog. I have no qualms with adopting a pet Viking.

His philosophy on life and nature was refreshing to hear. It was also nice to learn that the Vikings are not like how they are portrayed in a violent way in Hollywood, but in reality, they were Norsemen. Farmers, who didn't have horns on their helmets, and provided rights to women as they were viewed with importance. They seemed to be far more modern than I had originally thought.

On the boat ride back from the village, good news came! A close friend's health scare is looking a little less scary. Friends who are like family and the news made my whole day. 😊

The evening ended in what felt like a bird's nest at the Fretheim Hotel. Karen and I were meeting there to take a call with our marketing team, and we ended up running into Penn State graduates, freshly engaged, wandering the same hotel corridors we were. We Are! Indeed.

Something I noticed in my time here has been robot lawnmowers. The robot lawnmowers here make so much sense given all these hills. At home, there are no robot lawnmowers, instead the men in my life love to mow, which I always thought was kind of silly. To be fair, my husband Joe compares mowing to yoga. It's his Zen.

This concept of peace and zen has been on my mind. Peace versus pressure. This journey runs on patience. There are waves of grief—for my dad, for time, things unnamed—and I've been learning to pause and breathe through them rather than outrun them.

It's a Small World After All.