Confusion.

I had in my mind visions of Colonial Williamsburg, high quality reenactors marching through cobblestone paths with horses and flames in a mock celebration.
What I got felt more akin to LARP-ers with pool noodles fighting in their front yards after school.

It was another soggy day in Norway and I had woken early to ensure I had a full day at the Viking Valley. I had been disappointed that some viking themed adventures I had thought would be fun were just a smidgen too far to drive to and instead opted for this valley of Gudvangen which promised a remake of a Viking village full of people ready to regal me with historical tales of viking conquests and lifestyles. Apparently they would had crafts too!

I walked into the village, next to a popular gas station (aka the main hub of all small Nordy towns) through the gates of the tented village. There were some pop-up tents selling mugs, a shop with wooden swords and wool soap bars, then moving forward what looked to be a functional blacksmith house. I stepped inside being mostly alone in the viking village. There was a dark haired man, sides of his head shaved, with long braid in the center of his head. He was muscular and handsome and I thought ok - worth it! We chatted and he said he did commission blacksmith work and looking around I noticed a curtain above the smithing area. "Can you sleep here?" I asked. "Yes, this is a house." I started to realize I had wandered into this man's house. He was a real blacksmith who was truly dressed like a viking and the line between real life and reenactment began to blur. He must have just woken up, crawled down the ladder to the smithing area, set a fire, and began work. An odd level of dedication to the job I thought. I left feeling somewhat uncomfortable that I had moseyed into a mans house despite it clearly being allowed.

The more I looked around the more bizarre it became. Most dwellings were canvas tents with people sat in front of the tent barefoot drinking coffee. Some were selling trinkets but most seemed annoyed when you walked into their tent, and why wouldn't they? They were sleeping. I saw children peaking out of their tents from their homemade mattresses, people walking around the grassy knoll clad in brown linen capris and simple white linen tops with their handsome purebred dogs and it dawned on me. These people actually live here. Their interactions didn't scream "actors" either. If you asked a question they would answer, but you felt like an inconvenience to them.  I had driven hours to see a zoo of nerds playing dress up sulking in front of their canvas tents in the rain.

I was confused, what sort of voyeuristic shit was this? There were no plaques on the buildings, no music, no stories, no entertainment. I took the one available tour which was a 15 minute walk around the village where the Polish girl who somehow became obsessed with vikings had found this place and now gave rather informative tours of her home village all presented as if this were real. We saw the monuments to Thor and a Norwegian man piped up that he is a member of a church that still worships the old gods. I asked him if he liked the Marvel movies and it was jarring when he said yes but continued to speak in present tense about what Loki will do in the future. I stuck around to ask the Polish girl the questions that had been plaguing me this misty morning. Yes she lived there, yes she got paid, yes it was a job, but it was her passion, it is how she would want to live. My face must have asked more questions and she assured me she can leave at any time. Her words said 'not a cult' but my ears heard Stockholm Syndrome.

I left the Viking village bemused and disappointed, but mostly confused. I felt like a Peeping Tom who had seen things I wasn't intended to see. I had expected a fun frivolous journey into the past with legends and stories being shared, kitschy drinks like mead, and a general Harry Potter theme park vibe, instead I watched kids I didn't know get out of bed, overweight Americans braiding hair, and a bunch of non-Norwegians playing dress up without the hassle of getting into character.

I spent the day touring the nearby town of Flam and reading a book. I was hungry for dinner, but naturally no food existed that was palatable. There was a slice of bready thick square pizza with corn on top for $12 at the village but I resisted. I walked to the gas station, got my normal meal of carrots, strawberries, and Wasa crackers then sat in the wet valley and ate my meal. As I ate a knock off Chris Hemsworth adorned in not much more than a blue vest to rightfully show off his biceps carried his lute away from the village and spoke with some other village women. He was British and making the viking touring circuits. He had a lute in hand and had preformed as part of a special event I had managed to miss that day. He was what I had envisioned for the village. I wandered would I date a man that handsome and svelte but pretended to be a viking all the time? I remembered my boyfriend lives off the grid in an upgraded tent (a trailer) on a plot of land he stays on for free by providing labor for the owner on their garden, fence, and vines. I already am dating a viking, he just can't play the lute. 

Thor (left) Odin and his missing eye (right). Thor was actually a red head, not a sexy Australian blonde and Odin have up his eye for wisdom.

The valley of Gudvangen 

These helmets never had horns. Ever. I learned that. Vikings didn't have horns on their helmets. First they were already super heavy (seriously freaking heavy) second the horns would have thrown them off balance or could have been grabbed by an enemy to snap your neck. Many warriors couldn't even afford iron helmets and would have worn leather hats. 

I'm sure this statue was someone but as the Viking Valley had no information I don't know who it was. 

Ok guess which one is the god of fertility.