When Julie Peterson decided to have a baby on her own two years ago, she picked a tall, blond, blue-eyed Danish engineer as a sperm donor to match her own Scandinavian heritage. But when she went back to the sperm bank to use the same donor to have another child, she was stunned to discover that the federal government had made it impossible.

“I just cried,” said Peterson, 43, who lives in North Carolina. “I was in complete shock. I hadn’t thought about anything but having another baby with this donor. It was just so surprising and bewildering. ... Now I have a beautiful Viking baby, which is what I wanted. I was hoping to give her a full sibling.”

The Peterson household, 2025.  Young Jean-Baptiste comes running into his mother’s room, his eyes red and streaming.

Jean-Baptiste: Maman!  Maman!
Julie, icily: What.
Jean-Baptiste: Maman, it is Brunhilde... Maman, she has maked in my room again un feu.
Julie: Perhaps it is because you have invited it, with your weakness.
Julie: Perhaps it is because you lack Viking blood.
The fire alarm goes off.
Jean-Baptiste, timorously: I do not want to be a Viking, I am a chrétien... I want to make a life of service to Jesus, in a monastère... a chateau de Dieu…
Julie stands, trembling, apoplectic with rage.
Julie: Your God is false and weak.  The single eye of Odin sees all.
Brunhilde, entering suddenly, clad in furs and wielding an elk carcass: Cringing scoundrels!  Where is the treasonous fire alarm?  I crave to smash it.
Julie: Wretch, help your sister destroy the fire alarm.
Jean-Baptiste: I… I am faint with hunger… I seek fromage...
Brunhilde: YOU SHALL BE SUSTAINED BY MEAD AND ELKFLESH, OR YOU SHALL DIE.
Brandishing the elk carcass, Brunhilde chases Jean-Baptiste from the room.  Julie Peterson gazes bitterly after them.
Julie, aloud, to herself: Why, oh why, did I settle for the freely available French sperm.

Tags: science, international relations, france, vikings, denmark, sperm, elkflesh

[F]amilies visiting Denmark this summer can get to see in advance what life was really like as a Viking, through re-enactments and events at some of Denmark’s best preserved Viking settlements. Here’s a taste of what’s on offer across the country.

Ulvsborg Historiske Værksted
Parents and children alike will delight in the activities on offer at Ulvsborg Historiske Værksted, a quaint all-male settlement of 400.  Little has changed since this village was established in the early 1100s, when Thorolf The Awful marked the otherwise-nondescript location by constructing a shed from the bones of his enemies.  The diminutive edifice is still standing and fully functional as a shed, and while it is far from the only all-human-bone structure in town, it is instantly identifiable by its characteristic musk. That musk is celebrated every year on Shedsdag, when the elders anoint themselves with the blood of a lottery-selected Unlucky Værksteder and squat in the shed for up to fifteen minutes. (Ørstedsparken‎ 36. Third W of Jan.) Ask any of the inhabitants to take you and your family on an eye-opening tour of a nearby Irish monastery, where, according to local custom, you are required to apply burning coals to the foreheads of the local monks in an effort to make them renounce the Christian God, then cast their bodies into the roiling sea.  (Photography not permitted.  Tours free; recommended tip €2; if requested, sex should also not be withheld.  Duration of tour 1-20yr.  “No whining.") No trip to Ulvsborg Historiske Værksted is complete without a visit to the home of Thorodd the Bard, who for a cask of rotting honeyed fruit will cheerfully compose an impromptu poem consisting entirely of genealogy. It is considered rude to leave before Thorodd has finished his poem.  (Teglværkshavnen 112. 10-11hr.)
The mutton is often not completely rancid at Moesgård, a family-style restaurant and the best bet in town for a hearty old-school feast.  Do not, under any circumstances, make eye contact with other patrons while at Moesgård, or you will almost certainly be challenged to a test of manhood in which you will be forced to carry a log for miles with your penis. Women will not feel safe at Moesgård, and children stand a decent chance of being cannibalized.  The mead (€4,50), too, is mead-iocre. (Teglværkshavnen 3428. Mutton €8, entrails and brains €12.  Traveler’s cheques grudgingly accepted.) The night-"life” in Værksted is something of a misnomer.  Try EuroClub for decent techno and an axe-optional weapons code.  (Teglværkshavnen 112.  Drinks €4,50.  “ABBA Night” M 9-11pm.)

Tags: travel, vikings, denmark, tourism, thorolf the awful