While staring at fantastical creatures carved into the flared, curving corners of an impressively built Norwegian stave church, my memory flashes to Beijing, and the fantastical beasts perched like protectors on corners of its oldest imperial buildings. This one, a replica of the ornate Gol Stave Church built around 1250 in Norway, towers gracefully over Minot's Scandinavian Heritage Park in North Dakota.
"How is it cultures so geographically far apart were both carving dragons on medieval temples?" I later ask Hanna Ågren, visiting from Gothenburg, Sweden, for Minot's Norsk Høstfest, which draws close to 50,000 people every September. "Were they both inspired by discoveries of dinosaur fossils?"
We muse on the origins of dragons as she explains Viking symbols and folk-tale elements in the jewelry and pendants spread out on a table in front of her. Crosses — a nod to Christianity — mingle with legends of Thor's hammer, Odin's eight-legged horse Sleipnir, and wolf and dragon heads that link silver chains on display in the festival's Viking Village.
With the tagline "Pure Scandimonium," Høstfest doubles the population of Minot for what's billed as the largest Scandinavian festival in North America, filling the halls of the North Dakota State Fair Center. The fest blends food and crafts, with lefse competitions, cooking demonstrations, dancing and music. The arena also brings in big-ticket acts, including Chicago, Clint Black and Gabriel Iglesias this year (Sept. 25-28; hostfest.com).
Organizers say close to half the vendors and artisans come from Minnesota. Rosemalers paint flowers and leaves on Swedish clogs. The scent of sawdust lingers near hand-carved spoons and freshly turned bowls. Bud Larsen of Brainerd, Minn., who builds intricate Hardanger fiddles — Norway's national instrument — helps a child gently pull a bow across strings.
I feel the spirit of my adopted grandma with me as I happily line up at the popular Pastry Shoppe booth from Starbuck, Minn. The almond cake and flatbread look tempting, but I choose the powder-sugared rosettes and buttery crunch of sandbakkels and krumkake, which my grandma would make for the holidays.
My grandma was among the estimated 2.5 million Scandinavians who emigrated to the United States between 1830 and 1930. While a 23 and Me kit shows my DNA is a scant 1% Scandinavian, her pride in her Norwegian roots loomed larger and was more contagious than any other heritage.
My grandma made her first journey back to Norway at age 86. She had a heart attack on her cruise and died in a nearby hospital. My dad scattered some of her ashes on a fjord, leaving a part of her in the home country.