Hordes at the fjords!

One thing the unworthy Gaijin can already write to you, my honorable and beautiful readers, here in the north seems to be a small mecca for the moped riders, because the stinky rascal has not seen as many lively bucks on the road in the last 20,000 kilometers elsewhere.

You might think that the noble drink that patient Berta likes to sip would be cheaper here, or maybe free slaps for the present moped gangs would be provided, but NO!

People just like to get rained on here, because it's so damn beautiful here that the wimpy traveler only moves when it's raining and the ignorant doesn't feel like bending his crooked, gouty finger even more to complain about something.

That's how it is, my dearest and most expensive lesbian staff!

Anyone who just rides north on a motorcycle so that they can later say that they were at the North Cape can gladly be struck by lightning while in the midst of the exhausting and breathtaking process of defecation in the shithouse, because they are simply undeserving of this wonderful, fantastic landscape, but BOSAMO believes that there are not many of this kind here.

And slowly Berta is crying louder and louder that she wants new shoes again, because the noble steed is of the opinion that the fine, French footwear is slowly getting holes in the black soles and she has to experience every small pebble in a prickly way. And before the good one gets stubborn, of course she gets her way.

So tomorrow we'll go back to the Al Bundy of mopeds, let's see if the ignoble Gaijin maybe gets lucky and can spend a few crowns at the shack.

The winded traveler visited the world's oldest stave church (Urnes) today and for the first time sailed through fjords on ferries.

Furthermore, the traveling hypochondriac now understands why the area around Geiranger is overrun by so many snapping tourists...

There's nothing to add to the pictures from there...

P.S.: I'll knock you over if you point out my mistakes with your finger!