Leaving Los Rena, July 13

With the morning came the obligatory hangover which, admittedly, could have been a lot worse. I was some how smart enough to hydrate myself during the night and the effects of the alcohol withdrawal were somewhat mitigated. Jo Ann wasn't quite so prudent. Neither one of us felt much like moving though or at least moving quickly. By the time either of us had rolled out of our beds, it was well past noon. God bless our inn keeper and his 2pm check out time.

As we began the arduous process of packing our bags, Jo Ann realized she didn't have her camera and had no idea where she could have lost it. I had a vague notion it could be at the bar, but neither of us could remember using it there. Although she was concerned she had lost it, she didn't seem able to muster up the energy to get too worked up over the potential loss.

Bags packed, we left for the lobby and our gracious host who didn't seem to be in nearly as rough shape as he should have been after having to get up at 6am. He readily agreed to watch our bags for us as we opted to hunt for the camera and maybe get a little bit to eat.

The camera was indeed at the pub, but our memories were still fuzzy and we weren't sure how it got there. I still had that odd recollection of seeing it on our table. We had to wait to get back to the hotel to use Jo Ann's lap top before we could see the photos and whatever damning evidence may be on it, the screen on the camera was broken.

As we flipped though the photos, we laughed at the highlights of the previous evening. The video of the kid driving his POS Citroen or whatever while playing his 50 Cent excessively loud as he drove around the block repeatedly gave us a chuckle. Nothing like a skinny white kid driving daddy's grey sedan through the main street of The Middle of No Where, Norway while listening to his hardcore, gansta rap. Small fish, my friend, very small pond.

We particularly enjoyed the photos of us and the hotel baron as he and I were involved serious discourse. We eagerly showed him the photos, as we sat in the hotel lounge, he said he was as equally oblivious to the camera man as I was. Finally, coming to the end of our photographic and video record, we were ready to view the file that had piqued our curiosity the most. The last file on the camera was a video file. Neither one of us had any idea what was on this video nor did we know who was the artist. Well, imagine my surprise when I heard my own voice in a drunken monologue describing our night out, the surrounding area, the proximity of our hotel, then exclaiming "VIVA LA NORWAY". This is why one should not do shots of tequila.

Since Jo Ann's train wasn't leaving until 5pm, I had to stay in town until 5pm. It was just as well though, according to our city guide and accommodations provider, there was a bus leaving at 5pm that would be cheaper than the train to Oslo. It was only around 3pm at this point so we had a couple hours spend. Jo Ann decided she had lost the will to live and spent the time in sleepy bliss on the couch. I watched Young Guns. Do you think they could have found a worse actor than Emilio Estevez to play Billy the Kid? Thankfully Kiefer was there to lessen my suffering.

My quota for western movies filled for at least the next little while, I tried to shake Jo Ann into this dimension. Eventually she returned from where she was, presumably a place far more comfortable than consciousness. She was a little irritated at me, she could have slept for at least another 15 minutes. I thought that was pretty insensitive of her, she didn't just sit through Estevez badly overact a ruthless, adolescent gunslinger.

Truthfully, I thought it would take her a lot longer than it did for her to get packed and ready to go, then for us to get to the tracks. After her train came and we said our goodbyes, I was left to wait for my bus. I had only about 10 minutes to wait, but I decided to check the schedule that was posted at the bus station next to me. It took me up until that point to realize that Rutebillenstajon was the bus station. Unfortunately, the bus to Oslo was at 15:00. 5pm and 15:00 are not the same, I guess I should have checked the schedule for myself before then. At least there was a train leading to Oslo that was suppose to come within minutes of Jo Ann's train.

I found a couple army conscripts that were waiting for that train as well, but before long we had decided the train simply was not coming and we would have to take the next one at 7pm (1900). There was only one obvious way to pass the time, at the pub. I nursed that beer for a very, very long time. I never did learn the names of the lads, but I did find out a bit about them and there lives.

Every Norwegian man has to do military service for at least a year, I think. These two were stationed at the base just outside of Rena, on security detail. It was a pretty boring post by the sounds of things. They weren't particularly excited to be there, even if they did get to carry big guns all day and shoot their automatic weapons at the range once a week. They were on their way home to Bergen, which is in the west coast and about 7 hours by train from Oslo. The older of the two boys was 23 and was about to be the father of a baby girl. He was on his way home to be with his girlfriend, who I am sure is not impressed he was away for so long. The other lad, well, he was around 20 and was just doing his best to pass his time while he had to do his service.

Finally, that time came and we were able to catch the train. One transfer later, I was back in Oslo and civilization.