My Weekend in Larvik

The other day my mother asked me like I was a little school boy on his first day of kindergarten, "Are you making a lot of new friends?"
My response- "I'm making the right friends."
Tonight the international students are attending an all-you-can-eat cruise to Denmark. It seems fun and adventurous enough- pay 250 Kroner and eat/drink all your stomach can withstand. However, after my trip to Larvik this past weekend, I can't help but feel content in my blue pajama pants, drinking Pepsi while I study European Politics.

O where to begin?

Firstly, I believe a thank you is in order. That being said; thank you Mats for making me feel comfortable since my first day in Norway, thank you Hans for inviting me into your home, and thank you Eric for driving through hours of icy, winding roads so that I could see Heddal Church. And of course, thank you to Han's parents (whose names I do not wish to butcher with my spelling)for introducing me to some Norwegian culture, for letting me eat your food, for buying us all beer, and for giving me a warm bed to sleep in. It may not seem like much to you, but your hospitality was a comforting moment for me in this place so far away from everything familiar to what I call home.

Now when I talk of this past weekend, three things come to mind. One- going to a national cross country skiing championship. Two- listening to records of The Beatles, Pink Floyd, The Doors, Bob Marley, and Crosby, Steels, Nash and Young. And Three- seeing an 800-year-old wooden church.

Needless to say, if you know me (or even just of me, at that haha), you can probably guess that Heddal Church was the climax of my weekend in Larvik. Just imagine...

We arrived at dusk when there was just a hint of light still glowing in the sky. As I walked into the old graveyard surrounding Heddal, I stood frozen before the church. I felt as if I should bow or kneal to something so magnificent. Like a scene only found in paintings, fluffy snowflakes drifted around the church in a setting of blue twilight caressed in winter stillness. I thought, "this is why I came to Norway".
Inside Heddal, rows of pews stood before a back ground of painted walls, drawn by the hands of people long before or great-great-great ancestors. I looked at the ancient altar in front of my eyes disbelievingly.
I contemplated, "For nearly 800 years the voices of the long dead once filled these walls". It`s strange to utter, but the construction of a church made entirely of wood, in a way, made it seem as if ancient voices could somehow be absorbed into the porous timber...
I couldn't´t help but notice how every one in the group touched the "original" parts of the church solemnly.