Peter steps off the plane, his breath curling in the cold air as he joins a group of fellow tourists. Trolleys rattle over smooth tiles, and announcements echo in both Norwegian and English, welcoming newcomers to the land of fjords and midnight sun. Luggage in hand, Peter gazes out the glass facade, glimpsing distant snow-capped peaks.
"I can’t believe I’m finally here. Norway always seemed like a dream," he murmurs, excitement threading his words.
Sunlight glints off the impossibly blue waters of a vast fjord below, and the bus slows at a scenic overlook. Peter presses his face to the window, amazed at the sheer grandeur of the landscape—sheer drops, ancient rock faces, and tiny villages clinging to the shoreline. Cameras click and laughter fills the air as the group steps out into the brisk wind, the scent of pine and saltwater mingling.
Sofia, their guide, grins and waves a flag. "Welcome to Sognefjord, the King of Fjords! Today, we’ll sail beneath cliffs once ruled by Vikings."
Crunching over frost-laced gravel, Peter looks up at blue ice shining like crystal, rivers of meltwater trickling all around. A chill wind bites at exposed skin, every breath sharp and invigorating. Some of the group lag behind, snapping photos, while others press forward, eager to touch the ancient ice.
Johan, a local expert, gestures to the glacier’s edge. "This ice is older than our oldest sagas. Imagine the stories it could tell,"
The train’s windows frame a rolling tapestry—green meadows dotted with wildflowers, red farmhouses, and distant waterfalls plunging into deep ravines. Inside, the group buzzes with excitement, faces pressed to glass, as the train slows at the legendary Kjosfossen waterfall, its spray sparkling in the sunlight. Peter laughs as a sudden burst of mist cools his face.
"This feels like riding through a fairy tale," he exclaims.
The group dons simple Viking tunics and learns to throw axes and row replica longboats, laughter and shouts echoing over the fields. Peter clumsily hefts a wooden sword, his competitive spirit ignited as he faces off in mock battle. The crowd cheers, drums thrum, and the spirit of ancient warriors stirs in the crisp Norwegian air.
Ingrid, a tradition keeper, offers encouragement. "Fight bravely, Peter! The gods are watching,"
Traditional Nordic music plays softly, and Peter listens intently as villagers share stories of trolls, fjord legends, and the northern lights. He raises a carved cup in a toast, feeling a deep connection to the land and its people. Outside, the sky glows with a faint shimmer, hinting at the magic that lingers beyond the horizon.
"To Norway, and to unforgettable adventures," he declares, his heart full as laughter and song fill the night.
