Siri in Lofoten

Thursday, September 21 We wake up to yet another beautiful day - as in when have we not?- with sun slanting across the old roofs of the city After breakfast we walk through the busy streets, a mixture of old wooden houses and modern office buildings towards the impressive gothic Nidaros cathedral, where Norwegian kings have been crowned - and buried - until recent years.  It was started in 1070 on top of the tomb of St. Olav, Norway's national saint and former Viking king. It has been in use ever since, and the altar commemorates WWII, and the 11,000 fallen in that war, with all their names inscribed in a book on display. We notice deacons, young men and women, dressed in long red capes, guiding groups of schoolchildren, some very small, telling the story of the cathedral in an engaged manner. There's something very acessible about this grand structure. It feels modern, alive, and we admire, for example, a Via Cruxis, commisioned from a secular artist, with collag

Wednesday, September 20 We have a ferry departure at 7am and are up at the crack of dawn, getting ready, having coffee, and looking at the beautiful view one last time, where the rising sun is a fiery orange line  glowing  on the dark blue horizon. By the time we reach the harbor, well in advance of our departure, we find several cars, buses, and caravans waiting in line already.   N ervous about the crossing, which reportedly can be really rocky, I swallow a Dramamine. The sea is flat, however, and I go to sleep, curled up in my seat, while Oswaldo goes outside and takes a last look at the rocky silhouette of the islands. After three hours we’re ready to dock in Bodø, all passengers waiting in their vehicles. We're next to a converted school bus called Adventure Hostel On Wheels, which looks more intriguing than the other huge tour buses Bodø is a small hillside city bathed in a pale bright light from the sun and the sea. We figure out how to use the park

Tuesday, September 19 Look at that sun, we can't wait to start our day! The baby birds are up too, clamoring for food from their harried mothers. We get into the car and drive past the last little town, Å, through a long tunnel to a parking lot, from which we can walk down to the tip of the island, with unbelievably beautiful views all around, and so quiet - just the sounds of nature. The ground is a mixture of mossy grass and rocks. Turns out that the innocent looking swaying grass hides swampy wet spots, and soon our feet are soaked through to the socks.  But who cares - this is so special and amazing - looking north west as well as southeast and then back across those swampy traps After a quick visit back at the house, less than 10 minutes away, to change shoes and socks, we drive into the town of Å, the center of which is a cluster of pretty red Rorbuer lining a sheltered harbor We walk out on the pier and try to get near a seabird just sittin