Wednesday June 3rd 2015. Borrås Gard 20 km

It’s raining cats and dogs. In brief bad weather. I have to laugh. In magazines and in the windows of travel agencies on Norway I always see fjords with deep blue sky, people swimming in the lake and in reports of Scandinavia stories about the continental climate with hot summers, where the sun never sets. Home I wanted a Norwegian grass roof on my sheep barn, but it was not possible, because it doesn’t rain anough in the Nl. A green roof survives in the Nl. only when the roof is flat and if you plant desert plans on it, like sedum and if it is sprinkled at times. That indicates that our Dutch climate is not wet anough, though it rains very much home. On the trails I never see anybody. Any guestbook I am writing in, I’m just about the first one of this year. Along the many waters and fjords and in the gardens often are boats, but I never see one on the water. Do Norwegians only live during summer holidays? No doubt they have a great outdoors in winter with skiing, ice skating, Nordic walking etc. But where is the acclaimed summer?
Our hostess last night told us that an uncle who had been living in the court yard had died. Skin cancer, melanoma. The illness was discovered only a few weeks ago. Now he’s gone. A week ago at another inn the same story. I look like the Grim Reaper with a scythe. Wherever I roam people are being burried. Maybe that’s why I see nobody.
Anyway, Francien and I brave the wet weather, as well as many altimeters and we walk again without meeting anyone, to our evening destination.
Tosca found the coat of a badger or young Wolverine, which delighted her a while. Because we walked all day on the road, I had to keep her much at the leash, so she could also pull me uphill. She should be well tired in the evening, otherwise she gets tricky: barking, biting into anything.
Franciens eye is now swollen up and “sjolkeblauw” (like an apron). We call that a “pupsaug”. Her thighs begin to hurt and the straps of the backpack pressed heavily on her shoulders. Yes, playing a pilgrim is a bit like masochism.

Again faster than expected we arrived in the hamlet Borras, I asked a
farmer where we had to be. With me, was his reply. It was only 4 pm. Gosh, how Francien can walk.
He led us into a spacious wooden house all alone for Francien and me. In the living room there was room for more than 20 people. The wood stove had heated the entire room. His wife had already made coffee when she saw us enter their yard. Towels, comforters, everything was there. The apples, peppers, tomatoes and coffee and milk you can use she told us in Norwegian. Y quanta cuesta? 100 kr. P. P. (12 E). Francien thought they could ask much more. But she was mart anough to only think so. About female intelligence (contradictio in terminis) the following:
I once told my French niece Amélie, when she was 13 y old, the following anecdote. A woman was hit by a car, got into the hospital and had to undergo a lifesaving skull operation. When the skull was opened, the doctors saw nothing but a string, running from left to right. The surgeon cut the wire and you know what happened? No! The ears fell off. Outraged Amélie responded by saying that I myself had only one string. To which I defended myself, saying it was a very thick wire. Enough about gender differences.
The house has no heating but a fireplace, which was burning for all of  us. In the ceiling was a hole, so the heat also got to the bedroom. For wifi we had to move to the house of the landlord, 40 m. away from our barn. Communication would be a little difficult. She spoke only Norwegian, he knew a few words of English. So for a lively verbal communication we wouldn´t have to go there. Tosca was outside, dry under the roof of the wooden porch. Tonight she can come inside in front of the door.
Tomorrow 24 km. to Markabygda.