It would have to be Norway.  My connection is an ancestor, my third great-grandfather, who was born in Brevik, Telemark, Norway in 1818, came to America in 1837 and settled on Cape Cod.  He was a sea captain.  My dream is to go to Brevik and see the rest of Norway some day.  I don't understand my fascination, except perhaps that I adored my mishchievious grandmother and all the stories she was fond of telling.  Everything with her was magical.  I loved reading Kristin Lavransdatter and The Master of Hestviken by Sigrid Undset, and had a moment of transcendence at the wooden stave church in, of all places, the Norway pavilion at EPCOT.  I subscribe to News of Norway and like to attend the Nordic Fest in Massachusetts.  I feel as if I've been in Norway before.  I am enchanted when listening to my CDs of Norwegian Hardanger fiddle music.  I love what I read about Norwegians being nature lovers, even to this day.  In Sigrid Undset's books I was drawn to how sensitive the characters were to their environment: they would wake up in the middle of the night and know what time of the night it was by the sounds and the feeling of the darkness around them.  (I can never guess what time it is when I wake up!)  And they had different names for the types of snow on the ground, and knew the best way to travel in whatever conditions were like.  They seemed flexible and working in harmony with the earth.  I'd love to be that connected!

On Sunday daughter Larisa had an accident on her motorcycle.  She was riding it from her place to her grandpa's house to store it for the winter.  She took a right from one road onto another road and at a speed of 10 mph hit a stick, although I wonder if it was more of a branch.  It seems she was thrown or bounced off of her bike and is pretty banged up.  What is worrisome is that she said she couldn't see out of one eye for a minute.  The emergency room doctor said not to worry, though.  She has a badly sprained ankle and scrapes and bruises.  Her leather jacket and jeans were ripped and torn and her helmet crushed.  She called her grandpa's house where boyfriend Austin was waiting for her and he came and took her to the emergency room.  Her uncle got her bike towed to the house.  She wants to repair it herself! 

In the evening Tim & I drove her old Tercel (automatic transmission) up to her apartment to switch cars with her.  So Tim is having fun with her car (Sophie) with standard transmission and Larisa can use her one good foot to drive the Tercel to work.  She did take Monday off, but is back to work with crutches and weekend plans, so I guess she'll be fine.  She's one tough cookie.  It's weird, I never allowed Larisa to ride Tim's motorcycle with him when she was little.  I guess it was rather sexist of me, but her brothers were older, etc., etc.  After all that what I was most afraid of and trying so hard to prevent has now happened to her anyway!