Thursday 15 September 2022--I decided yesterday that I would sleep in today, and hang around town. Wake up to another unexpectedly sunny day, and feel a little guilty about not making better use of it, but not much. I enjoy a leisurely breakfast similar to what I would have at home...except bagels seem not to be a thing around here. I bought some round bready things (product of the Swedish Polarbröd bakery) that I figured would be a fair substitute. I think they'd go better with jam than with the Philadelphia® cream cheese I bought to spread on them, but they'll do. The coffee is good...I brought my own from home, Peet's French roast. Norwegian cottage cheese is awful, at least this brand is. It could be because I accidentally bought low-fat.

I don't get out until well after midday. The bulk of Henningsvær is on two islands, Heimøya (where "downtown" Henningsvær is) and Hellandsøya (where Tobiasbrygga is), with a bridge linking the two at the head of the harbor. The bridges linking Heimøya to Austvågøya, opened in 1983, were the catalyst for Henningsvær's transformation from a fishing village to a tourist town. The permanent population is a bit over 500, but there is apparently enough year- round tourism to keep a healthy number of restaurants and other services afloat. Nonetheless, hours have generally been cut back since the first of the month.

Henningsvær's most famous feature, subject of countless drone photos, is its footy pitch, at the southern end of Hellandsøya, with only the lighthouse on a rocky headland beyond it. I walk out past the pitch and start up the hill to see if I can find a good vantage point. A short way up is a gate with a sign reading "Lighthouse is a private home - No drone zone". Okay. A little higher up is another gate with a sign saying "Private home". Does that mean I shouldn't go higher? There's no further indication, but being a respectful person, I turn around, and then go up a little knoll from which I can get a passable photo. As I'm doing that, I think, if they don't want you to enter, the sign would say "Keep out" or some such--they just want you to be respectful while you're there. So I go back up through the gate, slowly, eyes and ears open. Suddenly a man and woman appear on the hill above me, seemingly out of nowhere, and the woman starts berating me. I apologize profusely, say I mean no disrespect, and that it would probably be a good thing to put up a sign explicitly saying "Do not enter" if they want stupid people like me to understand exactly what they mean. The woman continues to rain abuse on me, saying you should be sorry (yes, that's why I said I was), there's something wrong with your head, etc. I'm half expecting her to tell me to go away before she taunts me for a second time. All the while, the man stands there quietly, about twenty feet behind her. I'll bet he's been on the receiving end of that voice more than once. Maybe he even sympathizes with me a little. I retreat before she can tell him to fetch the cow.

The early evening sun on the mountains is a nice complement to a beer and a spot of aquavit, taken on the balcony. Dinner tonight is chicken. I guess I didn't need to tell you that. After, I go down to Tobiasbrygga's restaurant/pub for a pint. There's one beer on tap, a decent one, or it should be--it's in the process of turning to vinegar. There's nothing on the menu that will entice me away from my chicken breasts, either. It's too bad, because I like the space.