On where trolls roam

My hometown, though small, has throughout history been the home of several artists, writers and musicians. One of the sons Kongsvinger is the most proud of is the famous painter and illustrator, Erik Werenskiold. He grew up here, due to his father's job as the commander at the fortress. Werenskiold is mostly known, today, for his illustrations in the Norwegian folk tale collection by Peder Christian Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe.

Kittelsen's creepy one-eyed troll almost
looks real, don't you think?

One of the other illustrators for this collection is Theodor Kittelsen. I cannot vouch for the truth to the following anecdote, but supposedly Kittelsen criticized Werenskiold for being too bound by conventional restraints in his folk tale illustrations. "How can he, who has never seen a troll, draw one?" Kittelsen wondered.

I don't know if Kittelsen actually believed in trolls, but having spent some time in the Norwegian forests during my life, I think I know what he was talking about. And local patriotism set aside, I have to agree with him. His work seem to reflect a much more "realistic" mythos, where the trolls and other supernatural creatures blend in with their surroundings in ways that *almost* make you believe they could exist, out there, off our radar.

Werenskiold, on the other hand, has chosen what I'd like to call a "Shrek-like" approach, where the trolls basically look like ugly, overgrown humans. 

I have to say I prefer Kittelsen's version. After all, it looks so much more like the many "trolls" you can see with your own two eyes in any given forest:

"Try to look like a stump! Look like a stump!"

On pictures and words

If 1 picture > 1000 words, could you watch 473 pictures and say you've read The Lord of the Rings?

Could you take 50 snapshots, and claim to have "won" NaNoWriMo? 

Could you query an agent, pretending that you only took 80 pictures, while you actually sneaked (sorry, Tami, snuck) an additional 12 into the album?

I think not. Though sometimes a picture is worth quite a lot of words. Like this one: 

By my count, it is worth 179 words. 

You'll have to swing by Burrowers, Books & (today more than ever) Balderdash to find out which words. 

On recycling, part three - the telegram affair

Having survived the mountain trolls, I found myself faced with some more tangible trolls these last few days of my vacation: my nephews (aged two and five) and niece (4 months). Thus I spent all day yesterday and probably the entire weekend being a storyteller, encyclopedia, mattress, television facilitator, soccer judge, tantrum distractor, pony, clown and food supplier (with an infinite help from a bunch of pirates whose ship required the five-year-old to eat all his fish for the story to continue). Basically, I'm aunt > blogger today, and thus you're getting another recycled post. Over the weekend I should be back in blog mode, though (unless I need a vacation after the vacation...)

The following was originally posted on September 3, 2009. When I visited the US state archives last fall, one of the things that made my days a little brighter was when I found unintentionally comical documents, often made funnier from the fact that they were misfiled. Below is a document that clearly was not supposed to linger among the Middle East documents...


INCOMING TELEGRAM

Classification: SECRET [blogger’s note: don’t worry – it’s been declassified. They don’t let me see the juicy stuff]

From: FRANKFURT

To: SECRETARY OF STATE

PRIORITY

[blogger’s note: What I really like about the telegrams are the CAPITAL LETTERS. Everything they say sounds very IMPORTANT. I can’t help but picture the Clark Gable-like AMBASSADOR in FRANKFURT shouting out to his PRETTY SECRETARY the words she speedily would TYPE before a PIMPLY DELIVERY BOY took the message to the TELEGRAPHIST. The AMBASSADOR would then try to figure out what UNDERWEAR his SECRETARY was or wasn’t wearing that day, while she secretly would feel pretty BUMMED that she probably would have to SLEEP WITH HIM again in order to get that PROMOTION. I am aware that I might be over-analyzing due to the CAPITAL LETTERS…]

ACTION DEPARTMENT 48 [blogger’s note: here follows a lot of technical jibberish on which stations and departments should and should not receive a copy; what the telegram is referring to (if anything) etc. For your convenience, I will skip this – also it's awfully boring to type]

BRWKAKZXWAZK. [name altered] VOLOUNTEERED PRELIMINARY THE FOLLOWING:

IN 1961 RETURNING FROM OFFICIAL TRIP FROM EVIL COMMUNIST STATE [name altered] CAUGHT SMUGGLING TO SLIGHTLY LESS EVIL COMMUNIST STATE [name altered] A PACKAGE OF FALSE TEETH [no alterations made. Seriously!] (ABOUT 2000) [still no alterations – and you ask why I tend to laugh out loud in the researcher room?] AS FAVOUR TO COLLEAGUE. [Blogger’s note: now, here I smell something burning in the pineapple; fish in the suitcase; fudge in the bathwater – who would smuggle false teeth for a colleague? And what did this colleague need 2000 teeth for? Last I checked a grown human being only had 32 permanent teeth, though I do acknowledge that evolution may have come a long way since the 1960s. People may have needed more teeth back then, false or otherwise. Still… Fishy? With dill sauce all over it.] UNDER DETENTION ARREST FOR 4 MONTHS, HOWEVER, RELEASED AND REINSTATED TO FORMER RANK AND FORMER POSITION [IN – the annoying thing about telegrams is that they cut words that don’t significantly alter the meaning. It’s chat speak from back when “chat” was a cat in French] SLIGHTLY LESS EVIL COMMUNIST STATE AIR FORCE.

CLAIMS ESCAPE MOTIVATION BASED EXCLUSIVELY ON ANTI-COMMUNIST CONVICTION. ABOVE INFO FROM XXX [abbreviation altered], WHERE BRWKAKZXWAZK UNDERGOING ROUTINE BONA FIDES PROCESSING.

LAKES [name altered]

[Blogger’s note: since one technically isn’t supposed to misuse the documents of the archive, I figured a little anonymity couldn’t hurt. Secondly, this is also a precaution in case the deputy in Frankfurt – chances are the actual ambassador was away at some cocktail party and definitely did not send this himself – really did have an affair with his secretary. Sometimes it takes an over-active imagination to be spot-on… Finally, I figured that BRWKAKZXWAZK actually could still be alive. He could be someone’s father. Or grandfather. Or dentist.]

On trolls

As you might recall, I've been away on vacation for a few days. I explained how I visited the Jotunheimen mountains. What I perhaps forgot to mention, was that this “family holiday” actually was an expedition to locate the remaining specimens of some of Norway’s most mythologized creatures: the trolls.

The main population of trolls today lives in the Northern parts of Europe, most notably in Norway. There are more than 2500 species of trolls in the Scandinavian countries, 2000 of which are native to Norway. Of these, the most prominent ones are the Common Norwegian Forest Troll, the Norwegian Forest Dwarf Troll, the Sea Troll (Draugen), the Bearded Bottleneck Troll and the Obnoxious Norwegian Mountain Troll.

Meeting trolls is never free of danger, but we had prepared well. We brought several mechanical toys, a whole set of flashlights with extra batteries, and a copy of The Da Vinci Code.

Trolls are extremely dangerous creatures. While they might be tricked by riddles, logical paradoxes and faulty prose, it is safest to rely on physical means of defense. Sunlight is, as should be common knowledge, lethal to trolls. Because of this they only venture outside their caves in darkness or during extremely rainy days. Should they be encountered under such circumstances, or even in one of their caves, it is useful to know that trolls are also easily blinded by artificial light (even a simple flashlight will do). Be aware that this will only cause temporary blindness, and as soon as the troll regains full usage of its eyes (or eye, as the case is with the One Eyed Rural Dwelling Troll and the Kykloptical Klutter Klinger Troll) it will chase the subject it most likely believed caused the blindness. Thus another trick is to bring decoys in the shape of model airplanes or other objects that can direct the attention away from yourself.

You should not, under any circumstance, attempt to outrun a troll; or (this should not even be in the book as it is self-evident) engage it in combat. You will lose. (With the possible exception of man-to-troll combats with the Procrastinating Fickle-Flogger Troll. Due to its size and extreme strength it would crush you in an instant, but it will most likely put it off until you can make your escape.)

As we approached the mountains, it was nerve-wracking to say the least to scout towards the skyline to try to make out if any of the mountains were moving. We never drove very close, as this is haphazard to say the least.

Since the Jotunheimen is one of the last natural habitats for the trolls, there are any number of regulations for how the area can be traversed. However, most of the regulations are intended to ensure human safety rather than the survival of the trolls. Caravans are mostly forbidden, since trolls occasionally mistake them for lunchboxes. Paragliding is discouraged, but not forbidden (it would only make it more attractive for the extremists), though tourists and locals alike should be aware of the dangers involved in flying around looking like troll-sized butterflies. Trolls do not like butterflies.

The best way to access a troll bound area is by foot, as this will allow the best possible escape. Humans are tiny compared to most types of trolls, while cars are easy to pick up. Finally, your attire can be what saves your life. Most trolls are trained to identify creatures that are meant to blend into the scenery (as they are highly efficient hunters for wild animals and the occasional sheep), while colours such as hot pink or bright green that isn’t part of the natural colour scheme of their habitat actually are more difficult for them to distinguish. In general, trolls often have relatively poor eyesight, but their sense of smell more than compensates for this. They can smell “Christian blood” (the preferred troll term for “human”) up to twenty miles away.

In the end, we never got to see any trolls. A pity, perhaps, but a part of me is relieved. After all, these are extremely dangerous creatures, and it really is quite foolish to try to seek them out. But, it’s a family tradition. Fortunately this time we came home safely – who knows if we will the next time?





All the excerpts in this text are from Professor Geirr Ådne Ørjesæther’s book, Trolls and their Relatives (not to be confused with the children’s book of the same title).

On mountaineering

I haven't been doing a whole lot of travelling this summer. It's got to do with several things, most notably time (in between the job and the studies, it didn't feel like I could take much time off), and money (no student loans during the summer always makes the budget a little tight, but this time it was worse than usual since I didn't work this spring). Thus it sounded like a great opportunity to get away for a while when my parents suggested that I came with them to visit some relatives of ours in the mountainous areas in the middle of Norway.

These relatives (it's actually my mother's cousin and her husband, but since my mom and her cousin are both only childs, they are more like siblings. So for the purpose of this post I will refer to them as my aunt and uncle) have a cabin up in the mountains. It used to be very simple, but with time they have installed power in the cabin, and these days they even have water (it's still outside the cabin, though directly outside it). However, it remains a simple life up there, and the area definitely offers space to let your mind wander.

I'll be away a few days. I have scheduled posts, but I won't be around to reply to comments or visit other blogs. In the meantime you can enjoy some pictures from my last visit:

This picture makes the weather look more dramatical than it actually was. But I couldn't bring myself to touch it up...

This is what all Norwegian homes look like. Well, no, it's not. This is taken at the "fine dining with authentic feel showroom" of the Norwegian master chef Arne Brimi (who is the closest neighbours of my relative's cabin).

The official name for this flower is Skogstorkenebb (which translates to forest stork beak, tee hee) or Geranium sylvaticum in Latin. In my family, however, it only goes by the name "Midsummer flower" due to a particular family story I might consider sharing someday...

This is water coming directly from the glaciers, so even if this picture was taken during summer, the water was ice cold. Makes it perfect for drinking, though.

That would be my dad and my uncle walking ahead. My uncle's family owns most of this valley.

We had been walking for a couple of hours or so when we reached this place, but we parked where the driveable road ended. Back when this place was a summer farm, they didn't even have cars! I'm guessing that the walk from the village took about a day (at least when they had cows with them).

I think this picture gives an idea how remote this place is. No wonders they believed in trolls!

The old weathered cabin, where my uncle spent all his childhood summers.

This ravine, known as Ridderspranget (The Knight's Leap), has a legend tied to it. According to the story, a young man kidnapped another man's bride and ran away with her. They were pursued until they reached the river Sjoa, where he managed to jump across and escape.

"You talkin' to moo?"

The long stretch of mountain in the middle of this picture is the popular tourist route "Besseggen", which is the closest I've ever been to any actual mountaineering. It's quite the hike, and there are parts of it that requires climbing of sorts, but despite that the title of this post is quite misleading...