Oslo to Hamburg - Part 1, July 25

I opened my eyes before the sun made its daily debut, but the grey-blue sky told me it would not be long before I would see it.

I had spent the night sleepless and I was tired, but I had eaten and I had a ride out of town, things were looking okay. As the dawn broke, the sky cleared, it was going to be a bright and sunshiny day. I knew I had to get a window seat, the sun would come through the window and keep me warm, nothing puts me to sleep like the warm sun. I didn't see much of the country as we cruised through Sweden, I was dozing comfortably with my sweater cushioning my head and next against the window. My only distraction was the Spanish girl beside me didn't speak any English, but she was nice to look at between naps. I just hope I didn't snore too loudly. Managing to wake up and some how communicate with the Swedish only speaking driver, I switched buses halfway to Copenhagen. That was the only time I moved more than a few inches the whole trip.

When I arrived in Copenhagen, dropped off a few streets from the central station, I tried to think of a plan. I had a vague sense to go Spain, not for any particular reason other than it was warmer there than in Scandinavia where it rarely broke 20 degrees. Heavy with sleep inertia and rather lost with any real idea of what I wanted to do, I started with the internet. Yes, this was the worst place to spend my time, but at least I could wast my time in my own language. When you are tired, trying to work in a very foreign language is quite frustrating, especially when you have to deal with surly ticket agents. without a place to stay, and without any idea what I wanted to do. I had a vague notion I wanted to get to Barcelona, but the price of a ticket from Copenhagen was, well, just silly. Tired, groggy, and grouchy, I wandered the station, trying to figure out what I wanted to do. If I at least knew that, I would have a chance to build a plan.

Thinking maybe it would be best to stay the night, I started calling hostel. They were all full. I could have landed at my family's door step, but I did not feel at all right about that. I emailed my friend who live an hour away, maybe I could crash there if she got back to me in time. It was a silly idea, but I wasn't being smart.

Buying a ticket to Slagelse, I got on a train. I thought maybe I would sleep by the beach over night, that would be kinda cool. Traveling through the country side, I realized I had no idea how to get to the beach and furthermore, the ticket I bought brought me to a city a at least 20km from the coast.

I started chatting with the girl next to me. I hadn't spoken to any one in days and was glad for the company. In the back of my mind, I had hope she would ask were I was staying and invite a weary traveler to stay the night. I say that in the most platonic way as well, all I wanted was a shower and a bed. Unfortunately, that would not be the case. She didn't ask nor did I offer the information, I wasn't going to fish for help.

During the conversation though, I accidentally on purpose missed my stop and rode right through to Odense. I knew the one hostel in town would have its reception closed, but I tried anyway with the obvious result. It was a weird sensation. I had no where to stay, no direction, and I just didn't care. I would have to sleep outside, but it didn't matter. I was on an adventure and there was bound to be some bumps in the road. Obviously the bumps came from my very poor planning, but it seems as though everything was too easy if I didn't make it hard for myself. I suppose that sounds idiotic, why would I want to make it harder for myself?

Going through life is usually fair simple affair. Eat, sleep, work, play. Sometimes unforeseen things disrupt our routines, but we do our best to plan for them so they cause minimal chaos. I could have easily planned ahead and booked a cheap ticket from Oslo to anywhere, but where is the challenge. Granted, for me the challenge is planning ahead. None the less, I was looking for that feeling of pilgrimage, even if it was forced.

Walking down the streets in the fading light, I was glad for the chance for something new. I didn't know where I would sleep, but I knew I would find a good place that would keep me dry and safe. My bag wearing me down, I eventually turned at an intersection with the intent of getting to the harbour two kilometres away, but I never made it that far.

I came across a set of abandoned railroad tracks and following them into the bush, I discovered what looked like a hobbit's shanty town. Little structures built of old wooden shipping pallets, turned grey from the elements, and odd lumber lined the pathway. Some of the bizarre structures appeared to have two stories. Among this strange little village was a large lean-two. Underneath was a large log perfect for sitting on while I ate some supper and the ground where I slept was mostly soft, without many sticks or stones.

I felt lucky to have found a place like this and I set up camp for the night. Just like a real pilgrim.