Rain. Why does it always rain in this part of the world, I thought it was summer? No matter, a hot cup of tea and some breakfast was enough to make the sun come out again. It wasn't enough to create emails in my inbox though...
My morning was proving to be very uninteresting, but there is nothing quite like boredom to force a decision. After a few minutes of indecisive pacing, I wandered back up to my room for a hot shower. Hot showers make the world a better place and decisions a little easier (mostly because it means putting them off). By happy circumstance, the TV that was placed for easy viewing from the beds, also allowed for a comfortable view from the shower. I procrastinated under the hot water for a little longer until I got shampoo in my eyes. I spent the rest of the morning watching Rihanna dance with her umbrella.
I checked out of the hostel, again, but this time I wizened up and put my pack in a locker. I had learned my lesson and felt no need to repeat yesterday's full body work out, as much as I probably need it.
Feeling good about my day, I walked up to the promenade to explore the shops and watch the people. I had to withdraw some money before I could do much else, but isn't that always the case? It didn't take me long to find an ATM and I went about the process of refilling my leaky wallet.
Insufficient funds.
Um? I tried a lesser amount.
This machine is not authorized by your bank.
Panic? I kept my emotions under control -barely- and thought things through a little. It might be a weird bank sharing, interac thing. Maybe the solution was another bank. Well, do you think I could find another machine after a half hour of walking up and down the main strip? Of course not. Finally, after exhausting the most obvious spots for an ATM, I was forced to think. Perhaps I ought to use the handy dandy internet thing. I could check my account status and get a better handle on what my malfunction was.
As is always the way, I found another back on the way back to the computer, but I was on a mission and I walked right passed. It only took a few minutes to discover the problem and a few more minutes to rectify the situation with a phone call to a sleepy bank operator. It was 11:30 am for me, but way late (or early?) for her. For some reason, the Norwegian cash machines were withdrawing money from another account. I could breath a sigh of relief, I wasn't broke. Yet.
Money crisis averted, I went back to the promenade. I met an interesting man there who was selling shawls and scarves from Kashmir, made by his family. He spends his time traveling and selling his wares around the world. He looked like a man who loved what he was doing, he had the air of a man who was living his dream. For a couple months at a time, he would rent flat in one city or another, and sell his family's silks. I thought about buying one, but they were expensive (even though he would have given me a deal) and I had no place to carry them.
There was very little else to do in Lillehammer and I wasn't much interested in sticking around. I took a roundabout route back to the train station and did see a pretty creek that ran through the city, but it's not like I haven't seen fourteen thousand of those. As usual, I had to hurry up and wait so I could take the right train to meet up with my American friend, Jo Ann. I certainly have a lot of time, I just wish I would learn to spend that as liberally as I spend money, which I have much less of.
Jo Ann and I had plans to meet in Hamar where she was working then head to a little town called Skarnes. My lonely planet guide had it listed and it seemed like a good idea. A good idea until we realized it was over four hours away. Neither one of us much felt like spending the next fours, essentially the rest of the day, on the train. It would have been close to ten in the evening before we got there. Unsure of our options and, for once, my lonely planet book couldn't suggest anything nearby, we did the only logical thing we could think of. We randomly picked the closest town.
And that's how we ended up in Rena, population 2009 (thank you wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rena,_Norway). Rena has one hotel, two pubs (one of which seems to be closed), and not much else. Oh, there is the massive army base nearby, which is pretty much the only reason the town exists. As we marched up and down the street, it soon dawned on us we had two choices. We could either get back on the train and find somewhere else to be or we could pay the inflated lodging costs at the hotel. We were in the middle of nowhere with seemingly no activities for tourists to do, the answer is obvious. We checked into the hotel.
As we were chatting with the hotel owner/desk clerk, we talked about the possibly of going for a hike. We thought that might be fun, considering how far into the middle of nowhere we were. By the time we had unpacked and settled in for a little while though, we had one thing on our minds. Beer. It was definitely that time. So, back to the front desk. Where is a good place to get a pint and sit on the patio, we asked. Our host graciously pointed out the establishment across the street, reminding us it was the only place to go. We thanked him and made our way across the street. (We would be later thankful of the proximity of the hotel to the drinking establishment, but I am getting ahead of myself)
The pub was a nice little place with room for maybe a dozen outside and twice as many inside. The owner didn't speak much English, but ordering beer in most languages is not difficult. As it frequently does, one beer turns into two, and two into three. Somewhere through our second pint, the hotel keeper/owner/tourist information guide left his post to joined his buddies for a few rounds and a rousing game of darts. For those of you who know me well, you may be aware I can sometimes be a little on the gregarious side. Fueled by even small quantities of alcohol, the little voice in my head that keeps me out of trouble and that I do so well to ignore, is utterly silenced. I did a very good impression of the NY Yankees pitcher-styled dart player. The trash talking had begun and I was making new friends.
Near the end of our third beer (that's when I stopped counting), the hotel owner/pro darts player came up to us as he and his buds were leaving. They were off to go bowling and we were welcome to join them. It took us all of 13.7 seconds to concur, bowling was a damn good idea. It may have been the beer talking. I am pretty sure it was.
It took us a few minutes to find the bowling alley. It was at the other end of town, maybe 900 metres away, around a corner, and on the back side of a strange building. Jo Ann told me it was inappropriate to bring up the movie "Hostel".
With our slick bowling shoes laced up tight and our balls chosen carefully (Jo Ann picked a pink one, mine was blue), the battle lines had been drawn. Our first match was against each other. I had hoped to at least put up a good fight, but it was soon apparent I was clearly out matched. After I was solidly shellacked, we joined the opposing ranks of the dueling locals. Maybe with a small army supporting me, I could maybe prove a worthy opponent. Not even close. The first round went decisively to Jo Ann and her crew. By this time the folks I had harassed at the pub were feeling more than a little vindicated and they were saying things that made the old lady blush. Dramatic dart thrower was an equally bombastic bowler. He was equivocal in his feelings for Jo Ann, who he had decided was my girlfriend. He pronounced his ever changing opinions often and loudly. Maybe a little belligerently. In the end the second round went to us, but I am not sure my one strike was enough to reclaim any honour I may have had nor was enough to particularly contribute to the win.
Since no one was able to see straight, we decided the best thing to do would be to pack it in for the night. So we staggered back to the pub. My friend the hotel keeper was in worse shape than I was, at least I could stand without swaying (I think), and decided give up for the evening. Jo Ann had already disappeared into the pub for some vodka shots and I didn't see her until I went in to sit. That's how I remember it anyway, unfortunately there is photographic evidence to the contrary. There is a fantastic photo of yours truly in deep conversation with the hotel keeper, while Jo Ann posed with us for the camera. I think I know who took the photo, but as is evident in the pictures, I am completely unaware of the photographer.
It was 11pm and still fairly bright out side, but things were getting a little fuzzy for me. Fortunately, bad ass dart thrower and bowler extraordinaire bought me a beer and a shot of tequila. Of course that would make things much better. It wasn't long after that and after making a few promises to be up at 8am to paint for one of the locals, Jo Ann and I decided enough was enough and it was time to find the hotel. How fortuitous it was across the street.
Midnight rolled around and it was starting to get dark, everything was awfully fuzzy. Once in our room and starting to get ready for bed, we exchanged a few inane comments, none of which I remotely remember. What I do remember is this; it was late and I was feeling a little, um, shall we say randy. Using my best swagger, I walked over to Jo Ann and kissed her, which of course was received well. Feeling as though things could go very well for me, I surreptitiously placed a couple items next to the bed. Not quite ready do my best Casanova, I left things as they were for the moment so I could drink some very cold water and brush my teeth. As I stood over my bag, trying to retrieve my tooth brush, I noticed the ground was oddly getting closer. Sitting seemed like a better option, I was well on my way there anyway.
While enjoying the stability from a lower centre of gravity, I started feeling a little religious. Getting up, I swayed into the bathroom as though I were a zealot lost in the spirit world and said a few porcelain prayers. I felt remarkably better and knew my morning would be much better for my devotion. I brushed my teeth and collapsed in a heap on my bed and did not move until the morning. Jo Ann had long left the world of the conscious.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
The Man Who Went Up a Mountain and Came Down with Sore Legs, Lillehammer July 11
I thought I would start the day off right, with a cup of tea and some much needed breakfast. I didn't know at the time how much I would need the energy from my morning meal. I wanted to check my email, but the wireless connection on the hostel's communal laptop wasn't working. I fiddled with it for a little while, but it was morning and my brain is slow enough at that time of day without having to read Norwegian. It wasn't long before I gave up on the laptop and went in search of another machine. (I did find a kiosk in the information centre which became my link to the outside world while I was in Lillehammer)
I had expected to leave that day to meet my American friend in Hamar, so I packed up my stuff and checked out of the hostel. I had no immediate plans to leave the city, so I thought I would explore a little of what Lillehammer had to offer. (This is when I should have put my 20 Kilo pack in a locker at the train station, why I didn't...)
Lillehammer is still living off the '94 Olympic high and the main attractions are the Olympic museum, which was of little interest to me, and the ski jump. The sky jump is at the top of the hill (read mountain) in the city. I had decided I would like to see after my Swedish room mate from the previous night had mentioned he watched people practicing. I thought it would be pretty cool to watch some real ski jumpers, even if it was in the summer.
It wasn't hard to find the ski jump, there were signs everywhere indicating the route and it was at the top of the mountain. There may have been a less circuitous route for those not driving, but it was a nice day for a walk, the rain had let off for a while and the sun was out. It was a long way up the hill, but when I got to the base of the jump, I realized there were stairs to the top. There was only one thing I could do, I had to go up. There was no way I was going to come to this city, get the hill, and not climb the stairs. 40lbs backpack be damned, I am going up. It wasn't exactly a record setting pace, but I did manage to get to the top, with more than one break. Please remember, these stairs are exactly as steep as the ramp the skiers whoosh down to jump over a hundred metres. It's pretty steep.
I did have to duck under the ramp for little while as it started to rain, but at least I was sheltered. While I was hanging out under an Olympic ski ramp, I got a great vantage point as the skier who was practicing that day, went whoosh down the sloop into oblivion. The ramp is covered with an artificial turf that is kept wet with a mister and the skier lands on a very steep section which is of a similar material. Whoosh.... fwump. Very cool.
I stayed at the top for quite a while. It was easier than going those stairs and it was raining. There was a covered terrace with some picnic tables, sitting there was preferable to doing just about anything else. Also the view was nice.
Eventually I began my decent. It was way harder than the ascent. The lactic acid was happily lounging in my legs and no intention of vacating the premises. My legs protested and shook during the long and slow process I can best describe as falling without much style. I eventually made it to the train station and promptly sat down for a good long while. I had some food stashed in my pack, so I had a little picnic and thought about what I was going to do next. I knew one thing above all, I wasn't going to do much. After calling my friend and making plans for the next day, I checked back into the hostel.
My socks had descended into the 7th circle of nastiness, so it was fortunate I had the room to my self. Laundry detail is not something you want to share with a stranger when the quarters were roughly the size of Millhaven's maximum security solitary confinement lockers.
Now that my funky socks and the rest of my clothes were hanging to dry all over the bathroom, I was free to do a lot of nothing. What I really wanted was to use the internet, which of course I could only do if I fixed the Norwegian computer. So I did. I probably would have had it fixed sooner, but there was much flirting with the hostel employee. She had chocolates and asserted I should have some. What? I love chocolate. The fact they were offered by a pretty woman has nothing to do with anything.
The rest of my evening was spent quietly taking care of correspondence and not walking up or down and mountains.
I had expected to leave that day to meet my American friend in Hamar, so I packed up my stuff and checked out of the hostel. I had no immediate plans to leave the city, so I thought I would explore a little of what Lillehammer had to offer. (This is when I should have put my 20 Kilo pack in a locker at the train station, why I didn't...)
Lillehammer is still living off the '94 Olympic high and the main attractions are the Olympic museum, which was of little interest to me, and the ski jump. The sky jump is at the top of the hill (read mountain) in the city. I had decided I would like to see after my Swedish room mate from the previous night had mentioned he watched people practicing. I thought it would be pretty cool to watch some real ski jumpers, even if it was in the summer.
It wasn't hard to find the ski jump, there were signs everywhere indicating the route and it was at the top of the mountain. There may have been a less circuitous route for those not driving, but it was a nice day for a walk, the rain had let off for a while and the sun was out. It was a long way up the hill, but when I got to the base of the jump, I realized there were stairs to the top. There was only one thing I could do, I had to go up. There was no way I was going to come to this city, get the hill, and not climb the stairs. 40lbs backpack be damned, I am going up. It wasn't exactly a record setting pace, but I did manage to get to the top, with more than one break. Please remember, these stairs are exactly as steep as the ramp the skiers whoosh down to jump over a hundred metres. It's pretty steep.
I did have to duck under the ramp for little while as it started to rain, but at least I was sheltered. While I was hanging out under an Olympic ski ramp, I got a great vantage point as the skier who was practicing that day, went whoosh down the sloop into oblivion. The ramp is covered with an artificial turf that is kept wet with a mister and the skier lands on a very steep section which is of a similar material. Whoosh.... fwump. Very cool.
I stayed at the top for quite a while. It was easier than going those stairs and it was raining. There was a covered terrace with some picnic tables, sitting there was preferable to doing just about anything else. Also the view was nice.
Eventually I began my decent. It was way harder than the ascent. The lactic acid was happily lounging in my legs and no intention of vacating the premises. My legs protested and shook during the long and slow process I can best describe as falling without much style. I eventually made it to the train station and promptly sat down for a good long while. I had some food stashed in my pack, so I had a little picnic and thought about what I was going to do next. I knew one thing above all, I wasn't going to do much. After calling my friend and making plans for the next day, I checked back into the hostel.
My socks had descended into the 7th circle of nastiness, so it was fortunate I had the room to my self. Laundry detail is not something you want to share with a stranger when the quarters were roughly the size of Millhaven's maximum security solitary confinement lockers.
Now that my funky socks and the rest of my clothes were hanging to dry all over the bathroom, I was free to do a lot of nothing. What I really wanted was to use the internet, which of course I could only do if I fixed the Norwegian computer. So I did. I probably would have had it fixed sooner, but there was much flirting with the hostel employee. She had chocolates and asserted I should have some. What? I love chocolate. The fact they were offered by a pretty woman has nothing to do with anything.
The rest of my evening was spent quietly taking care of correspondence and not walking up or down and mountains.
No Matter how Crazy you are... July 10
When I arrived in Lillehammer, it dawned on me, I had absolutely no idea where the hostel was and everything was closed. Some day, I might learn the prudence of planning, but it wouldn't be that day or the next. I briefly considered wandering in the vain hope of finding the hostel or maybe a sign to point me in the right direction, it was a small town after all. After what was a brief moment of insanity, I came back to my senses. I had written down the phone number of the hostel, just in case, so I decided to call them. Brilliant, no? Well, the fella on the other end of the line said the hostel was at the train station. I was at the train station. When I turned around 180 degrees, I found myself right in front of the hostel entrance. Sigh, what's a guy to do? It could have been worse, right?
As with the other hostels I have been to in small towns, this one was equally as boring. I guess young people tend to stick to the bigger cities that have the night life and larger attractions. Go figure.
My room mate, however, was an interesting man. He was on his annual motorcycle trip. Every year he spends 2-3 weeks riding through whatever Scandinavian route interests him. He usually camps, but the weather had been so atrocious, he decided to have a dry night in a hostel. He was an introverted man who seemed to prefer his own company, but he certainly had a lot to express. He had recently broken off his relationship with his girlfriend of a year and a half. It seems she cared more about her dog than she did for him. I think that would be enough for me to call off a relationship as well, I just know I could let that last a year and a half.
While he was away, it was up to her to deal with the apartment they had together. He seemed okay with letting her take care of all of their possessions and not having a place when he finished his trip. Well, he was a little concerned about having to look for a place in Stockholm, I guess housing there is difficult to find.
My favourite thing about this man though, is his hobby. Marathons. He liked to travel around, just to run marathons. Now I like running, but I guess this is a whole other level of addiction. He was still recovering from the marathon he ran the previous Saturday. With a cracked rib. In a few months, he would be traveling with some friends to do some extreme running in the mountains. I think that meant something like a hundred or more kilometres. To each his own, I guess.
In the morning, his parting words were, he was off to church to get right with God. It was raining again.
As with the other hostels I have been to in small towns, this one was equally as boring. I guess young people tend to stick to the bigger cities that have the night life and larger attractions. Go figure.
My room mate, however, was an interesting man. He was on his annual motorcycle trip. Every year he spends 2-3 weeks riding through whatever Scandinavian route interests him. He usually camps, but the weather had been so atrocious, he decided to have a dry night in a hostel. He was an introverted man who seemed to prefer his own company, but he certainly had a lot to express. He had recently broken off his relationship with his girlfriend of a year and a half. It seems she cared more about her dog than she did for him. I think that would be enough for me to call off a relationship as well, I just know I could let that last a year and a half.
While he was away, it was up to her to deal with the apartment they had together. He seemed okay with letting her take care of all of their possessions and not having a place when he finished his trip. Well, he was a little concerned about having to look for a place in Stockholm, I guess housing there is difficult to find.
My favourite thing about this man though, is his hobby. Marathons. He liked to travel around, just to run marathons. Now I like running, but I guess this is a whole other level of addiction. He was still recovering from the marathon he ran the previous Saturday. With a cracked rib. In a few months, he would be traveling with some friends to do some extreme running in the mountains. I think that meant something like a hundred or more kilometres. To each his own, I guess.
In the morning, his parting words were, he was off to church to get right with God. It was raining again.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Oslo for an Evening and a Day, July 9-10
I was able to find a hostel with a free bed easily enough. It was also only a quick and direct walk from the central station where I had left my American friend. No, I didn't get lost this time. After a short time jockeying to keep my position, I had finally checked in.
For a Monday night, the town was buzzing with activity. Metallica was playing in town the next night and there were people everywhere looking for tickets, buying and selling t-shirts, and generally stoked for the concert. I have seen Metallica live before, they put on a pretty wild show so I could understand the anticipation the crowds were feeling. Unfortunately, since Metallica was in town, that meant all the hostels were booked for the next night. I would have to leave the city if I wanted to avoid an asphalt bed. Oh well, I would deal with that in the new day. For the moment, it was time to enjoy the city and the company of my friend.
Although it was late, Princess Hotness was eager to get out of the house for a little while. She has a room mate and their history is complicated. We met at the only landmark I could remember from my hour in the city: the tiger that prowls the fountain at the train station. It was good to see her again, although this time she hadn't spent 2 hours getting ready before going out. I almost had heart failure when I saw her in jeans,a t-shirt (not Metallica), and her hair tied back in a pony-tail.
We spent the evening sitting and working out her recent boy troubles. First at the Hard Rock Cafe but, the music was loud and prominently feature a certain band that people were excited about. It didn't take long before we had enough of the rock that ambiance (as long as it took me to drink my beer, infer what you like) and we moved to another cafe. This one though, had far more charm.
The main strip of Oslo is a walking street called Carl Johans gata. You can find just about anything here, including the predatory Nigerian prostitutes. I saw more than one unsuspecting man (or group of men) react in shock as they suddenly had a woman hanging off their arm proposing sex. The number of these women is simply astounding, within a block you could see ten women clearly looking for their prey. The presence of my Princess Guardian ensured I would not be approached in my apparent obliviousness.
The cafe we found though, was in an old and very large church that had, at some point, been converted into various shops and restaurants. The outer terrace was inset in a long curved wall that wrapped itself all the way around to the opposite side of the building. We sat in the cool evening, basking in the candlelight and the near perpetual light of the northern sky, looking through the pillars as the crowds passed, and enjoying the simple pleasure of good company and hot tea.
I spent the early part of the next day, after I had grudgingly checked out of the hostel, wandering the city. I had time to meander through the streets and see some of the city.
Sometimes it is fortuitous to look the part of a traveler, people are more likely to approach, and to be approached, by some one who looks like they are on their own adventure. That day, I was wearing my well faded Tilly hat, the one I have had since I was 14 and looks very much like the kind of thing one would wear more for practicality than style. After I had walked a while, I had decided to rest my legs and observe some of the more colourful individuals as they moved through the streets. The two drunk and/or high men who yelled obscenities at each other, made threatening gestures, then shared a cigarette held my attention for a while. Then there was the the slipper wearing man in the form-fitting, slightly translucent, black dress harassing the street portraiture artists trying to make a living sketching tourists who would for 15 minutes or so. From what I gathered, the man in the dress was living his dream and dancing for the masses in the street.
My observations were interrupted by a local man on his way home from work who came over to start a conversation with me. He was also watching some of the people who were entertaining me. It was one of his pleasures in life to walk slowly down Carl Johans gata after his day at the travel agency so he could watch the people as them went on their way. Sometimes, he said, he would stop for a coffee and one of the cafes so he could sit while he watched people go on about their business. I noticed he was not wearing a wedding ring, but I decided not to say anything. In retrospect, I think I would have liked to learn more about him, simply as a matter of course. Every person has their own story and if we take the time to listen, we can learn so much from each other. Wouldn't the world be a better place if we all did that a little more? After we chatted for a little while, we exchanged pleasantries and he wandered off towards home, which while I suspect may have been empty, was still a place he was happy.
As for me, it was getting on time to catch my train to Lillehammer.
For a Monday night, the town was buzzing with activity. Metallica was playing in town the next night and there were people everywhere looking for tickets, buying and selling t-shirts, and generally stoked for the concert. I have seen Metallica live before, they put on a pretty wild show so I could understand the anticipation the crowds were feeling. Unfortunately, since Metallica was in town, that meant all the hostels were booked for the next night. I would have to leave the city if I wanted to avoid an asphalt bed. Oh well, I would deal with that in the new day. For the moment, it was time to enjoy the city and the company of my friend.
Although it was late, Princess Hotness was eager to get out of the house for a little while. She has a room mate and their history is complicated. We met at the only landmark I could remember from my hour in the city: the tiger that prowls the fountain at the train station. It was good to see her again, although this time she hadn't spent 2 hours getting ready before going out. I almost had heart failure when I saw her in jeans,a t-shirt (not Metallica), and her hair tied back in a pony-tail.
We spent the evening sitting and working out her recent boy troubles. First at the Hard Rock Cafe but, the music was loud and prominently feature a certain band that people were excited about. It didn't take long before we had enough of the rock that ambiance (as long as it took me to drink my beer, infer what you like) and we moved to another cafe. This one though, had far more charm.
The main strip of Oslo is a walking street called Carl Johans gata. You can find just about anything here, including the predatory Nigerian prostitutes. I saw more than one unsuspecting man (or group of men) react in shock as they suddenly had a woman hanging off their arm proposing sex. The number of these women is simply astounding, within a block you could see ten women clearly looking for their prey. The presence of my Princess Guardian ensured I would not be approached in my apparent obliviousness.
The cafe we found though, was in an old and very large church that had, at some point, been converted into various shops and restaurants. The outer terrace was inset in a long curved wall that wrapped itself all the way around to the opposite side of the building. We sat in the cool evening, basking in the candlelight and the near perpetual light of the northern sky, looking through the pillars as the crowds passed, and enjoying the simple pleasure of good company and hot tea.
I spent the early part of the next day, after I had grudgingly checked out of the hostel, wandering the city. I had time to meander through the streets and see some of the city.
Sometimes it is fortuitous to look the part of a traveler, people are more likely to approach, and to be approached, by some one who looks like they are on their own adventure. That day, I was wearing my well faded Tilly hat, the one I have had since I was 14 and looks very much like the kind of thing one would wear more for practicality than style. After I had walked a while, I had decided to rest my legs and observe some of the more colourful individuals as they moved through the streets. The two drunk and/or high men who yelled obscenities at each other, made threatening gestures, then shared a cigarette held my attention for a while. Then there was the the slipper wearing man in the form-fitting, slightly translucent, black dress harassing the street portraiture artists trying to make a living sketching tourists who would for 15 minutes or so. From what I gathered, the man in the dress was living his dream and dancing for the masses in the street.
My observations were interrupted by a local man on his way home from work who came over to start a conversation with me. He was also watching some of the people who were entertaining me. It was one of his pleasures in life to walk slowly down Carl Johans gata after his day at the travel agency so he could watch the people as them went on their way. Sometimes, he said, he would stop for a coffee and one of the cafes so he could sit while he watched people go on about their business. I noticed he was not wearing a wedding ring, but I decided not to say anything. In retrospect, I think I would have liked to learn more about him, simply as a matter of course. Every person has their own story and if we take the time to listen, we can learn so much from each other. Wouldn't the world be a better place if we all did that a little more? After we chatted for a little while, we exchanged pleasantries and he wandered off towards home, which while I suspect may have been empty, was still a place he was happy.
As for me, it was getting on time to catch my train to Lillehammer.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Slow Boat to Oslo, July 10
Finding the harbour and the right pier was a fairly simple task, I managed to not get lost and was there at a reasonable time. The path was well marked and the cruise ship-sized ferries were a pretty good give away. At the ticket window, I happened to overhear the person next to me order her tickets in English. Perfect, I had found a traveling partner. Although, I didn't yet know it would take 8 hours to get to Oslo and how much I would appreciate talking to some one along the way. I dawdled long enough so we boarded at the same time and I could make some inane comment about being unsure of where I was to go.
It wasn't long before we were friends and were sitting comfortably on the top deck with a beer - it was passed noon somewhere, if not where we were- and some sandwiches. My new friend was from Arizona and was on an internship representing a horse breed association during training camps put on throughout Europe. It was basically two months of traveling and meeting people who love the same things she does. Not only was it all expenses paid, but it was also a paid position. It is a pretty tough job right after college.
Our day was spent meandering and exploring the ship that was as big as I have ever been on. It had ten decks, two for cars, sleeping berths, four or five restaurants, a cinema (playing something in Norwegian I think), stores, a promenade deck or two, and where ever else we didn't bother to explore. There was enough keep some one unable to sit still, like me, busy for a while.
In Oslo, my friend had the foresight to grab a map, for some reason I opted not to. Perhaps I knew it would be a lost cause anyway. As it was, she had a worse sense of direction than I did. After some time and much wandering, she surrendered the map to me and I found our way to the train station. She was off to another city and I needed to find a place to stay.
It wasn't long before we were friends and were sitting comfortably on the top deck with a beer - it was passed noon somewhere, if not where we were- and some sandwiches. My new friend was from Arizona and was on an internship representing a horse breed association during training camps put on throughout Europe. It was basically two months of traveling and meeting people who love the same things she does. Not only was it all expenses paid, but it was also a paid position. It is a pretty tough job right after college.
Our day was spent meandering and exploring the ship that was as big as I have ever been on. It had ten decks, two for cars, sleeping berths, four or five restaurants, a cinema (playing something in Norwegian I think), stores, a promenade deck or two, and where ever else we didn't bother to explore. There was enough keep some one unable to sit still, like me, busy for a while.
In Oslo, my friend had the foresight to grab a map, for some reason I opted not to. Perhaps I knew it would be a lost cause anyway. As it was, she had a worse sense of direction than I did. After some time and much wandering, she surrendered the map to me and I found our way to the train station. She was off to another city and I needed to find a place to stay.
Monday, July 16, 2007
The Dorm Room, July 8
Sunday night I stayed in Frederikshanv at busy hostel filled with scads of teenage girls with too much hairspray, old guys traveling in a pack of mopeds, and a couple of families monopolizing the common area. The one computer, at the check-in desk was occupied by a couple little girls tasked with whacking the moles. I could not think of a more perfect recipe for boredom!
My my bed was in a dorm room at the other end of the complex down the hall, so after I elbowed my way through a gaggle of 15 year-old girls and dodged the greying men in their underwear, I found myself unlocking the door to a massive dorm room with space for 50 people. My first thoughts as I entered the room went something like this: "Is that a man or a woman in their underwear changing on the bed next to the door? It must be a man, women tend to wander off to somewhere more private to change."
No sooner had those thoughts passed through my mind and into oblivion, did I hear the person say, "un suk, un suk." Being the linguistic genius that I am, I interpreted that as "one second, one second." Apparently I was wrong in my assumption. I did my best to back out of the room quickly, but succeeded only in bashing into the door and wall, tripping over the step, and struggling to close the door with the loose hinges that fell out of alignment when opened. My retreat was less expeditious. By the time I made in into the hall again with the door close, she muttered something that sounded like she was dressed and it was okay to come back into the dorm room.
Without pausing or looking at the speaker who had chosen the most inappropriate place to be prudish, I crossed the room to the furthest possible bed and began the process of setting up camp for the night. It was only nine o'clock, but my dorm room compatriot was already wrapped up in her bed and was making sounds like maybe she wanted to sleep. I did my best to be quiet, but ramming my large pack into my locker took less finesse and more brute force. I wasn't too tired nor ready for bed, but with my options limited, I set off to find some eats.
After a little wander through the town and a kylling-burger, I was back at the hostel by 11. Again I made an effort to be quiet as I came in and out after brushing my teeth, but, again, the door made skulking around less of a possibility. Finally in bed and rather annoyed I was sharing this huge room fit for 100 people with a person who took the bed right next to the door, I set off to sleep content with myself for my thoughtfulness. Two minutes after I was in bed, she was up and off to the bathroom.
My my bed was in a dorm room at the other end of the complex down the hall, so after I elbowed my way through a gaggle of 15 year-old girls and dodged the greying men in their underwear, I found myself unlocking the door to a massive dorm room with space for 50 people. My first thoughts as I entered the room went something like this: "Is that a man or a woman in their underwear changing on the bed next to the door? It must be a man, women tend to wander off to somewhere more private to change."
No sooner had those thoughts passed through my mind and into oblivion, did I hear the person say, "un suk, un suk." Being the linguistic genius that I am, I interpreted that as "one second, one second." Apparently I was wrong in my assumption. I did my best to back out of the room quickly, but succeeded only in bashing into the door and wall, tripping over the step, and struggling to close the door with the loose hinges that fell out of alignment when opened. My retreat was less expeditious. By the time I made in into the hall again with the door close, she muttered something that sounded like she was dressed and it was okay to come back into the dorm room.
Without pausing or looking at the speaker who had chosen the most inappropriate place to be prudish, I crossed the room to the furthest possible bed and began the process of setting up camp for the night. It was only nine o'clock, but my dorm room compatriot was already wrapped up in her bed and was making sounds like maybe she wanted to sleep. I did my best to be quiet, but ramming my large pack into my locker took less finesse and more brute force. I wasn't too tired nor ready for bed, but with my options limited, I set off to find some eats.
After a little wander through the town and a kylling-burger, I was back at the hostel by 11. Again I made an effort to be quiet as I came in and out after brushing my teeth, but, again, the door made skulking around less of a possibility. Finally in bed and rather annoyed I was sharing this huge room fit for 100 people with a person who took the bed right next to the door, I set off to sleep content with myself for my thoughtfulness. Two minutes after I was in bed, she was up and off to the bathroom.
How a broken printer changed my mind.
Sitting in the train station, I had to decided where I was going to go next. So, I sat. I paced. I really didn't know where I wanted to go next. I felt like maybe I needed to get out of Denmark for a bit and do some exploring. While I sat and/or paced, I started thinking about going south to Spain, but it would be a little silly to go directly there. Alright then, I will take the train down to Paris, see the city and the memorials on the beaches to the north. Then I would make my way down to Barcelona. Perfect, I had a plan and had made a decision. Thank you Dr. G for the Lonely Planet.
I bravely stepped up to the ticket counter and asked how much it would cost to get to Paris. Nope, she wouldn't tell me. A broken printer prevented her from selling those tickets. She advised I take the train to the next town and I would be able to book what ever I wanted from there. Let's do it then! I bought my ticket to Fredericia and I was happy in my decision. For about 4.7 minutes. By the time I had gotten on the train, I realized from Fredercia I could take the ferry to Oslo. That was an interesting thought, there were people in Oslo I wanted to see. I guess when I got to Fredericia, I would have a decision to make, south to Paris or north to Norway.
When I pulled out my map to see how far I had to go, I realized I had mixed up the towns. Frederica did not have any ferries, the town I was thinking of was Frederikshavn, all the way to the north. I guess that settled that then... Except I really wanted to go to Oslo now. That meant back tracking and...
At the next stop I was off the train and on the next one heading back to the north. I hadn't had my ticket checked yet, so when the ticket guy came, I could play the dumb tourist. All I had to do was get back where I came from, get a refund, then buy the right ticket. I hadn't gotten nearly far enough by the time the guy came to check the tickets, so I ignored him. Once you show your ticket the first time, they don't ask to see it again and there is often a different person checking. Unless he asked, I wasn't going to present my ticket. I will play the tourist card every chance I get. He looked at me, but kept going. Sweet. I win. I stayed on the train past my stop right until the end of the line at Ålborg. I figured if I had gotten as far as I had, I would just enjoy the free ride.
Once I was in Ålborg, I though it would be a good idea to make sure I had a place to stay in Frederikshavn before I got on the train. It had been raining a lot and I didn't want to get wet while I was sleeping. I was in luck, there was a bed at the hostel. Onward to the next city.
I was that much closer to Norway. This was July 8, once month since I had left Canada.
I bravely stepped up to the ticket counter and asked how much it would cost to get to Paris. Nope, she wouldn't tell me. A broken printer prevented her from selling those tickets. She advised I take the train to the next town and I would be able to book what ever I wanted from there. Let's do it then! I bought my ticket to Fredericia and I was happy in my decision. For about 4.7 minutes. By the time I had gotten on the train, I realized from Fredercia I could take the ferry to Oslo. That was an interesting thought, there were people in Oslo I wanted to see. I guess when I got to Fredericia, I would have a decision to make, south to Paris or north to Norway.
When I pulled out my map to see how far I had to go, I realized I had mixed up the towns. Frederica did not have any ferries, the town I was thinking of was Frederikshavn, all the way to the north. I guess that settled that then... Except I really wanted to go to Oslo now. That meant back tracking and...
At the next stop I was off the train and on the next one heading back to the north. I hadn't had my ticket checked yet, so when the ticket guy came, I could play the dumb tourist. All I had to do was get back where I came from, get a refund, then buy the right ticket. I hadn't gotten nearly far enough by the time the guy came to check the tickets, so I ignored him. Once you show your ticket the first time, they don't ask to see it again and there is often a different person checking. Unless he asked, I wasn't going to present my ticket. I will play the tourist card every chance I get. He looked at me, but kept going. Sweet. I win. I stayed on the train past my stop right until the end of the line at Ålborg. I figured if I had gotten as far as I had, I would just enjoy the free ride.
Once I was in Ålborg, I though it would be a good idea to make sure I had a place to stay in Frederikshavn before I got on the train. It had been raining a lot and I didn't want to get wet while I was sleeping. I was in luck, there was a bed at the hostel. Onward to the next city.
I was that much closer to Norway. This was July 8, once month since I had left Canada.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Tall Ships and No Where to go
I left Odense pretty much as soon as I could. Now that I had my Hans Christian Anderson book, I had no real reason to stay there. Although the off chance of running into crazy artist was a compelling reason to stick around, it wasn't enough to keep me there. I pointed myself in the direction of Åarhus, where there was a big tall-ships race. I thought it would be pretty amazing to see the big sailing ships. As many of you may know, I have a bit of a dream to sail. If you don't know about that dream, ask around and you might find some decent stories of my ill-advised learning methods.
Once I got into Århus, I went directly to the tourist information centre, got a map, got my bearings, and proceeded to go in the completely wrong direction. Fortunately, a local who spoke English saw me looking at my map and assumed, correctly, I was lost. She pointed me in the right direction. This would not be the first day I went in the completely wrong direction, but more on that later. I managed to find the harbour fairly easily after that helpful nudge. It wasn't too difficult though, the tall ships have tall masts that offer a helpful navigation point.
I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the harbour and enjoying the ships. There were a lot of them. A lot. Some as small as 30 feet to as big as way huge. 4 masts and lots of sails. I should know how long they are, but I forget and I didn't bother to write it down. Suffice it to say, they were as big as big got. In a moment of sheer brilliance, I decided it would be better to keep my 40 pound pack on my back in case I found a ship that was looking for a crew. (This will not be the first time I regret carrying my pack all day, but you will have to wait until I tell you about Lillehammer for that)
As it happens, I did manage to find a ship looking for crew to sail to Finland. It took me a while, but I finally screwed up the courage to ask. It was a crazy idea, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't even try. This is why I am here, right? So I asked. Turns out, I have to pay him for the privilege of working for him. It was like that on every other boat looking for crew as well. The luxury of working my tail off ran from 500 to 1000£. Do the math and that is something like 1000-2000$C. Um... What? I left the harbour in a rather foul mood. Oh yeah, it also rained. Hard. Fortunately this time I had my rain gear. Thanks mom.
My next step was to get to an Internet cafe to check my email, I had requested a room in town, but needed to see if there was a confirmation. I left the harbour in the direction I though was the least circuitous route. By the time I found the cafe I was looking for, and it took me a while, I realized I was about 4.7 minutes from the harbour I had just left. Only, I walked for about 45 minutes, sight-seeing. Arg.
Turns out the hostel I had emailed was full for the night. So was the other one in town. Now I was starting to sweat a little, where was I going to sleep? Denmark is a small country. I called the hostel in the next town over and got a bed there. Right, now I had to walk back to the station and, you guessed, took a wrong turn. I think I may have been a little sleep deprived.
When I finally got to the town Randers, it occurred to me I had no idea where the hostel was or how to get there. I thought the best thing to do would be to knock down a stack of flyers to get the attention of the cashiers so I would have an excuse to ask them if they knew where it was. Turns out they did and they even provided me with a map with the route traced out for me. Denmark is a fairly flat country. Except for this town and the hostel was at the top. After a full day of hiking with my pack on my back, I did not appreciate having to walk to the top of a hill. I did it though and I survived.
I can't say I highly recommend the hostel in Randers. Unless you are traveling with your family and don't mind going to bed and waking up to the sound of screaming kids...
Once I got into Århus, I went directly to the tourist information centre, got a map, got my bearings, and proceeded to go in the completely wrong direction. Fortunately, a local who spoke English saw me looking at my map and assumed, correctly, I was lost. She pointed me in the right direction. This would not be the first day I went in the completely wrong direction, but more on that later. I managed to find the harbour fairly easily after that helpful nudge. It wasn't too difficult though, the tall ships have tall masts that offer a helpful navigation point.
I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the harbour and enjoying the ships. There were a lot of them. A lot. Some as small as 30 feet to as big as way huge. 4 masts and lots of sails. I should know how long they are, but I forget and I didn't bother to write it down. Suffice it to say, they were as big as big got. In a moment of sheer brilliance, I decided it would be better to keep my 40 pound pack on my back in case I found a ship that was looking for a crew. (This will not be the first time I regret carrying my pack all day, but you will have to wait until I tell you about Lillehammer for that)
As it happens, I did manage to find a ship looking for crew to sail to Finland. It took me a while, but I finally screwed up the courage to ask. It was a crazy idea, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't even try. This is why I am here, right? So I asked. Turns out, I have to pay him for the privilege of working for him. It was like that on every other boat looking for crew as well. The luxury of working my tail off ran from 500 to 1000£. Do the math and that is something like 1000-2000$C. Um... What? I left the harbour in a rather foul mood. Oh yeah, it also rained. Hard. Fortunately this time I had my rain gear. Thanks mom.
My next step was to get to an Internet cafe to check my email, I had requested a room in town, but needed to see if there was a confirmation. I left the harbour in the direction I though was the least circuitous route. By the time I found the cafe I was looking for, and it took me a while, I realized I was about 4.7 minutes from the harbour I had just left. Only, I walked for about 45 minutes, sight-seeing. Arg.
Turns out the hostel I had emailed was full for the night. So was the other one in town. Now I was starting to sweat a little, where was I going to sleep? Denmark is a small country. I called the hostel in the next town over and got a bed there. Right, now I had to walk back to the station and, you guessed, took a wrong turn. I think I may have been a little sleep deprived.
When I finally got to the town Randers, it occurred to me I had no idea where the hostel was or how to get there. I thought the best thing to do would be to knock down a stack of flyers to get the attention of the cashiers so I would have an excuse to ask them if they knew where it was. Turns out they did and they even provided me with a map with the route traced out for me. Denmark is a fairly flat country. Except for this town and the hostel was at the top. After a full day of hiking with my pack on my back, I did not appreciate having to walk to the top of a hill. I did it though and I survived.
I can't say I highly recommend the hostel in Randers. Unless you are traveling with your family and don't mind going to bed and waking up to the sound of screaming kids...
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Buffalo Soldier
Odense. Birth place of Hans Christian Anderson. Boring as hell. Looks like every other Danish town. And it rained. I did buy a book of HCA's complete and illustrated stories. Did you know the Little Mermaid, as Disney tells it, is terribly altered? Well, it is. Not that it should come as a surprise, but still. Anyway, she actually dies in the end.
The one really interesting thing about Odense is the story coming up. I wrote it down as best as I could remember in my journal the day after and I think I may just transcribe it as I wrote it before. I would put into italics the part where I am speaking.
Here it is:
"If the US had nuked Berlin, John Lennon would have married a blue eyed, blond woman. How many squaws can an Indian have..."
I went out last night to a pub for supper and I sat right at the bar hoping to attract some one interesting to talk to. While I would have preferred a lonely, but gorgeous Danish girl, the scruffy, chain smoking 43 year old with a thick, greying mustache and a blue shirt with maybe the first two buttons done up, who spoke in song lyrics would do just fine.
If anything this man said is to be believed, he had a wife in Cuba, a wife in Berma named Berlin, and a wife in New York. First he took Manhattan, then he took Berlin.
We shared a non-alcoholic tequila sunrise, they haven't served that spirit here since 1969, and talked about Elvis. I saw the ghost of Elvis, now security, they did not see him. He poured the raspberry and said "this is the earth", he poured the orange juice and said "this is the sun."
He had found his song, but he would not tell me what what it was. I said I had many songs, but he said they were all the same.
I shot the sheriff! I swear it was in self-defense.
Did you shoot the deputy?
English is the language of angels.
Did I tell you anything about you by talking about me? Then you are an empty mirror.
I'm looking at the man in the mirror, thinking about making a change.
Bo Jangles, dance for me. Michael Jackson, Bo Jangles, dance.
I found my song, but I am not going to tell you.
Whitney Houston is a transsexual. I am your bodyguard. I wrote another song, the new bodyguard. I am the wind beneath your wings.
I am a Buffalo soldier. Are there many Indians in Buffalo. What do they look like?
This was pretty much our conversation for the two hours we sat together. The man is right off the rails. I wasn't sure to be offended or just to ignore the racial slurs made by a crazy artist. Never the less, it was certainly one of the more interesting conversation I have had in a long time. Genuine, bonafide, crazy.
www.steenvaldelarsen.dk
Misadventures in an Opel
In order to see the surrounding area, we needed wheels. The on available set was my friend's brother's car. Calling this POS a car was generous indeed. The thing was about 20 years old and some serious issues with, well, going. It was actually okay for the first part of the day, we were able to drive around for a while to a couple of the different site I had wanted to see, then we cruised into town for a little while.
So far, my friend's brother's warnings were looking to be over-stated. The car had behaved itself well enough. Until that it is, we decided to go home. After a little shopping at an antique store, we got back into the car to leave. It wouldn't start. Nope. That is until I got into the driver's seat to try, of course it started for me. I was feeling pretty smug at that point, but that lasted for about 3 blocks when the car stalled.
We had stopped at an intersection when the car decided it didn't want to go any more and no matter who tried to start the car, it just wouldn't. After a few cycles of the lights, the guy behind, either in frustration or just to be helpful, helped us push the car through the intersection to the less busy side. We sat there for a good ten minutes fighting with the car.
Finally, I figured out how to get the car going. Turn key, smash gas to the floor. Hold gas to the floor, put in gear, GO! Anything less than that it would stall. We decided it would be better if I drove home, I had more experience and didn't have to sit on a pillow to see over the wheel.
Driving through town with a car that stalled every time I stopped was an interesting experience to say the least. In order to keep the car running took concentrated effort to brake, clutch, rev the engine, and still steer. I didn't seem to have enough appendages to coordinate all of that at once. If it did stall, it was the same thing over again, turn key - hold gas to the floor. I am not sure how many driving laws I broke on the way back or how many people thought I was a nut when I didn't slow down for corners on the very narrow roads, but I did enjoy driving the hell out of that little car.
I did manage to get it back without crashing, driving into a field, or otherwise mangling the car. I think that was good enough for me. My friend seemed happy to be back in one piece though.
After that, we used my friend's mother's car. Another Opel, but at least this one behaved itself and didn't give us any grief.
So far, my friend's brother's warnings were looking to be over-stated. The car had behaved itself well enough. Until that it is, we decided to go home. After a little shopping at an antique store, we got back into the car to leave. It wouldn't start. Nope. That is until I got into the driver's seat to try, of course it started for me. I was feeling pretty smug at that point, but that lasted for about 3 blocks when the car stalled.
We had stopped at an intersection when the car decided it didn't want to go any more and no matter who tried to start the car, it just wouldn't. After a few cycles of the lights, the guy behind, either in frustration or just to be helpful, helped us push the car through the intersection to the less busy side. We sat there for a good ten minutes fighting with the car.
Finally, I figured out how to get the car going. Turn key, smash gas to the floor. Hold gas to the floor, put in gear, GO! Anything less than that it would stall. We decided it would be better if I drove home, I had more experience and didn't have to sit on a pillow to see over the wheel.
Driving through town with a car that stalled every time I stopped was an interesting experience to say the least. In order to keep the car running took concentrated effort to brake, clutch, rev the engine, and still steer. I didn't seem to have enough appendages to coordinate all of that at once. If it did stall, it was the same thing over again, turn key - hold gas to the floor. I am not sure how many driving laws I broke on the way back or how many people thought I was a nut when I didn't slow down for corners on the very narrow roads, but I did enjoy driving the hell out of that little car.
I did manage to get it back without crashing, driving into a field, or otherwise mangling the car. I think that was good enough for me. My friend seemed happy to be back in one piece though.
After that, we used my friend's mother's car. Another Opel, but at least this one behaved itself and didn't give us any grief.
Dress Shopping
By July 2, I had enough of the city and was ready to explore the rest of Denmark. The plan for that day was to meet up with my friend and head west to Høng. My friend's parents lived out there, so I could stay there a few days before I continued on to other parts of Denmark.
I spent the morning packing and doing laundry. Then the rest of the afternoon drinking tea and watching TV. You see, my friend was out looking for dresses with a friend. Yes, I was waiting on women to finish shopping before I could do anything. There was only one thing I could do. I had to take matters into my own hands and find a dress for this poor girl.
I am not sure what this girl must have thought when I was picking out dresses for her, but when I grabbed a couple that she liked that were also in her size, I am sure I confused her even more. What's a guy to do? I was tired of waiting!
Høng is on the west side of the island of Sjealand, which is the same island København is on. There are some pretty wicked beaches out that way and I wanted to explore those before I left the area. Also, I friend of mine back in Canada highly recommended the beach Stillinge Strand. If some one highly recommends a beach like that, I can't possibly ignore that.
With a short train ride later and a car ride through more farm land of Denmark, I had left København.
I spent the morning packing and doing laundry. Then the rest of the afternoon drinking tea and watching TV. You see, my friend was out looking for dresses with a friend. Yes, I was waiting on women to finish shopping before I could do anything. There was only one thing I could do. I had to take matters into my own hands and find a dress for this poor girl.
I am not sure what this girl must have thought when I was picking out dresses for her, but when I grabbed a couple that she liked that were also in her size, I am sure I confused her even more. What's a guy to do? I was tired of waiting!
Høng is on the west side of the island of Sjealand, which is the same island København is on. There are some pretty wicked beaches out that way and I wanted to explore those before I left the area. Also, I friend of mine back in Canada highly recommended the beach Stillinge Strand. If some one highly recommends a beach like that, I can't possibly ignore that.
With a short train ride later and a car ride through more farm land of Denmark, I had left København.
Malmö and Møn
June 30, I went to Malmö, Sweden for the day. It rained. That is about all I have to say about Malmö. That and the in the percussionist troop I could hear from across town. They were cool. I have a recording of them on my camera and I will add that to this post went I can plug my camera in to a computer.
July 1. Canada Day. I felt a little nostalgic and missed home that day. I really do enjoy that one day of patriotism and flag waving. We are not a patriotic bunch and we don't have a flag flying on every other house like our southern neighbours. Once a year we get to celebrate ourselves and I think that is good.
Ottawa is always a fun place to be with the crowds and free concerts. I heard it rained all day though, which is also typical of Ottawa on July 1. I think in the 8 or 9 summers I was there, it rained at least 6 times on Canada Day. At least once during that time the fireworks were cancelled, which was too bad because I was able to get behind the Parliament buildings for that year. It would have been the best view in the House.
I spent the day at my Danish family's summer house. I should say I spent a good part of the day trying to get to the summer house. My day really did start with the best laid plans, but it is amazing how quickly things can spiral out of control when I stop paying attention.
The plan was simple enough, catch the train from where I was staying, go to Nykøbing, meet my cousin and his mormor at the station, and from there we would drive to Møn. Easy right? Well, as usual, I was slow and moronic in the morning. I managed to just miss the train I needed to get there. If I had left the house 1 minute earlier, I would have made it. It wasn't a big deal though, the next train was in 20 minutes. I went and got some food for the ride over then came back to the track to wait for my train. As I was sitting there, patiently waiting waiting for my train, not too concerned it hadn't shown up yet, I turned just in time to see a couple people running to make the train on the other track as it pulled away. I felt bad for them, I knew how frustrating it was to be so close. It was at that moment I also noticed the train that was pulling away was the train I was supposed to be on. I was sitting at the wrong track, the train had been at my back for a good 10 minutes. I will let you imagine what was going through my mind at that moment.
After some angry pacing and frustrated indecision, I decided to get a refund on my ticket and just stay in town. I sent a message to my cousin explaining my predicament and my plan. The next train was not for another hour and that would make every one late for lunch at the summer house. As I was in line to get my refund, my cousin messaged me back to tell me to take the next train and get off at the stop before Nykøbing and they would meet me there. Alright then, back in the game. For some reason, they didn't take into account the 1 hour delay. I was surprised we didn't make up that time with the old lady's rally racing style of driving.
The rest of the family had waited for our arrival before starting lunch. I was glad for that, until I realized I had to drink Schnaps with the pickled herring.
July 1. Canada Day. I felt a little nostalgic and missed home that day. I really do enjoy that one day of patriotism and flag waving. We are not a patriotic bunch and we don't have a flag flying on every other house like our southern neighbours. Once a year we get to celebrate ourselves and I think that is good.
Ottawa is always a fun place to be with the crowds and free concerts. I heard it rained all day though, which is also typical of Ottawa on July 1. I think in the 8 or 9 summers I was there, it rained at least 6 times on Canada Day. At least once during that time the fireworks were cancelled, which was too bad because I was able to get behind the Parliament buildings for that year. It would have been the best view in the House.
I spent the day at my Danish family's summer house. I should say I spent a good part of the day trying to get to the summer house. My day really did start with the best laid plans, but it is amazing how quickly things can spiral out of control when I stop paying attention.
The plan was simple enough, catch the train from where I was staying, go to Nykøbing, meet my cousin and his mormor at the station, and from there we would drive to Møn. Easy right? Well, as usual, I was slow and moronic in the morning. I managed to just miss the train I needed to get there. If I had left the house 1 minute earlier, I would have made it. It wasn't a big deal though, the next train was in 20 minutes. I went and got some food for the ride over then came back to the track to wait for my train. As I was sitting there, patiently waiting waiting for my train, not too concerned it hadn't shown up yet, I turned just in time to see a couple people running to make the train on the other track as it pulled away. I felt bad for them, I knew how frustrating it was to be so close. It was at that moment I also noticed the train that was pulling away was the train I was supposed to be on. I was sitting at the wrong track, the train had been at my back for a good 10 minutes. I will let you imagine what was going through my mind at that moment.
After some angry pacing and frustrated indecision, I decided to get a refund on my ticket and just stay in town. I sent a message to my cousin explaining my predicament and my plan. The next train was not for another hour and that would make every one late for lunch at the summer house. As I was in line to get my refund, my cousin messaged me back to tell me to take the next train and get off at the stop before Nykøbing and they would meet me there. Alright then, back in the game. For some reason, they didn't take into account the 1 hour delay. I was surprised we didn't make up that time with the old lady's rally racing style of driving.
The rest of the family had waited for our arrival before starting lunch. I was glad for that, until I realized I had to drink Schnaps with the pickled herring.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Must. Update. Blog.
Fine. Leave me alone, I am busy traveling the world.
Let's see, what stories do I have to, hopefully, entertain you. You will have to forgive me though, there may be some censoring in these stories. I do have to make it G rated.
During my first week here, I met one of my cousins, Mads. Now he may only be my fourth, fifth, or sixth cousin, but he is still my cousin and he is only a couple years younger than I am. After dinner and a rather intense conversation about the ethics of science with his morstar, we decided to go out. We ended up at a place called Heidi's Beer Bar, where the waitress dressed like German beer wenches and served 1litre beers. You can see how this would turn out to be a good night. Well, by the end of the night, I had made some new friends and was looking forward to seeing them again.
Skip forward a couple weeks, I had indeed made a new friend and we had hung out a few times in the city. Now, I have to remember the point of this story as I get distracted by other emails, msn messages, and every person who walks by...
Tivoli. Tivoli is an old, old amusement park. The kind of place filled with rides, whack-a-mole games, and cotton candy. There are also the restaurants surrounding the gardens and pond. We only went on one of the rides, it was an old rickety coaster that was something like a hundred years old. It was also my friend's favourite ride. Now, the thing that makes this little thing special is the way it goes in and out of the little mountain. While the ups and downs are minor to any experienced coaster rider, the absolute darkness in which you ride through the tunnels is just enough to unsettle just about any one. Now it wasn't a dimly lit, sorta see if you looked around the corner darkness. No, this was zero light, can't see where to scream darkness. It was pretty cool.
I couldn't convince my friend to go on the big, twirly, fast, upside-down coaster though. Which was too bad. I could have gone on alone, but that isn't the point. If I can't get some one to scream, why bother?
After that, we went out to a disco called "The Australian Bar". We were on the "guest list" and got in for free. It was a good thing we didn't pay to get in, it wasn't much of a club, the music was a little lame and the place was packed full of high school kids who have just graduated. As much fun as watching 17-18 years old dance... No it wasn't really that much fun. At least the drinks were cheap.
I had every intention of getting home at a reasonable hour that night, but after two buses failed to make their presence known, I was forced to walk home. After a shawarma though. I did get to see some kid get chased down the street by some old guy at 4:30 am though, that was fun. The kid had a definite head start and was a fair bit faster than the old guy. Funny thing about this part of the world, the sun goes down at 11 and is up by 4. Weird.
Let's see, what stories do I have to, hopefully, entertain you. You will have to forgive me though, there may be some censoring in these stories. I do have to make it G rated.
During my first week here, I met one of my cousins, Mads. Now he may only be my fourth, fifth, or sixth cousin, but he is still my cousin and he is only a couple years younger than I am. After dinner and a rather intense conversation about the ethics of science with his morstar, we decided to go out. We ended up at a place called Heidi's Beer Bar, where the waitress dressed like German beer wenches and served 1litre beers. You can see how this would turn out to be a good night. Well, by the end of the night, I had made some new friends and was looking forward to seeing them again.
Skip forward a couple weeks, I had indeed made a new friend and we had hung out a few times in the city. Now, I have to remember the point of this story as I get distracted by other emails, msn messages, and every person who walks by...
Tivoli. Tivoli is an old, old amusement park. The kind of place filled with rides, whack-a-mole games, and cotton candy. There are also the restaurants surrounding the gardens and pond. We only went on one of the rides, it was an old rickety coaster that was something like a hundred years old. It was also my friend's favourite ride. Now, the thing that makes this little thing special is the way it goes in and out of the little mountain. While the ups and downs are minor to any experienced coaster rider, the absolute darkness in which you ride through the tunnels is just enough to unsettle just about any one. Now it wasn't a dimly lit, sorta see if you looked around the corner darkness. No, this was zero light, can't see where to scream darkness. It was pretty cool.
I couldn't convince my friend to go on the big, twirly, fast, upside-down coaster though. Which was too bad. I could have gone on alone, but that isn't the point. If I can't get some one to scream, why bother?
After that, we went out to a disco called "The Australian Bar". We were on the "guest list" and got in for free. It was a good thing we didn't pay to get in, it wasn't much of a club, the music was a little lame and the place was packed full of high school kids who have just graduated. As much fun as watching 17-18 years old dance... No it wasn't really that much fun. At least the drinks were cheap.
I had every intention of getting home at a reasonable hour that night, but after two buses failed to make their presence known, I was forced to walk home. After a shawarma though. I did get to see some kid get chased down the street by some old guy at 4:30 am though, that was fun. The kid had a definite head start and was a fair bit faster than the old guy. Funny thing about this part of the world, the sun goes down at 11 and is up by 4. Weird.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Another Museum
Today I took a trip out to Roskilde, about 30 minutes by train, to see the Viking Ship Museum. Not much to report, to be honest. The mere fact that it rained all day and I got soaked has no bearing what so ever on my opinion over all of the museum. I was, however, grateful for the advice I got regarding clothing choices. Specifically one very special doctor friend who drilled into my head the absolute need for quick dry clothing. If only I had listened to her about the rain jacket. Not that I don't have rain gear, it's just being the optimist that I am, I left it in København.
Back to the museum. The gift shop offered more in the way of variety and history than the rest of the actually exhibits. Yes, the reassembled ships they spent the last 40 years or so gluing back together after they pulled them out of the bottom of the fjord is pretty cool, but the whole place certainly could have done a lot more in the way of, oh I don't know, actually history of the ships and ship-building techniques. It's not like they don't know. For each of the four carefully preserved ships, there is a replica floating in the harbour next door (admittedly, they are actually pretty cool. each is built in the traditional way with traditional materials).
Maybe the thing that caught my attention most was during the quick film they showed talking about the excavation. It talked about the defense of Roskilde and how they used bonfires on beacon hills to form signal chain. Once lit, the army and navy (as it was) would rally to defend the city. I guess I thought it was interesting to actually learn of something I otherwise only knew of in the movies. Maybe I need to read more history books or at least go to more museums.
(note: I will add some more photos when my Picassa is in a better mood)
Back to the museum. The gift shop offered more in the way of variety and history than the rest of the actually exhibits. Yes, the reassembled ships they spent the last 40 years or so gluing back together after they pulled them out of the bottom of the fjord is pretty cool, but the whole place certainly could have done a lot more in the way of, oh I don't know, actually history of the ships and ship-building techniques. It's not like they don't know. For each of the four carefully preserved ships, there is a replica floating in the harbour next door (admittedly, they are actually pretty cool. each is built in the traditional way with traditional materials).
Maybe the thing that caught my attention most was during the quick film they showed talking about the excavation. It talked about the defense of Roskilde and how they used bonfires on beacon hills to form signal chain. Once lit, the army and navy (as it was) would rally to defend the city. I guess I thought it was interesting to actually learn of something I otherwise only knew of in the movies. Maybe I need to read more history books or at least go to more museums.
(note: I will add some more photos when my Picassa is in a better mood)
Monday, June 25, 2007
Where to Next?
I spent this last weekend on the sleepy little farming island of Lolland with my cousin and his grandparents (his grandparents would also be my cousins or something like that, it's a little hard to figure out. I have diagrams - and yes, it is a nice TREE).
The first thing I have to say is, his mormor (mother's mother... it's the Danske way) has more energy than I have ever seen in a 75 year old. Honestly, it was a little frightening when she picked us up at the train station. I have driven with 17 year olds who were less aggressive. Okay, I embellish, but only a little.
Seriously though, I think she is one of the sweetest and kindest ladies I have ever met. She has a heart of gold... and she fed us, a lot. I think I gained 5 pounds this weekend. Somebody send me my running shoes, I need to get back on the wagon.
On Sunday, she took my cousin and I on a little drive around the area where she and my grandfather grew up. She pointed out the places where they went to school, where they used to go for walks, the fields my morfar (mother's father... it's the Danske way)used to work. Having never actually seen where my family grew up, my history and such, it was an interesting experience. I have seen the place where my father grew up, but that was really the only family history I have been able to see. Also, it was in the back woods of Sudbury, so I was a little nervous about being there. I was sure I could here a couple banjos dueling off in the background. I need to go back to Lolland to see the farm where my morfar grew up, I think that will be an interesting time. Before that though, I need to find the house in Købehavn where my mormor lived. Mom?
The first thing I have to say is, his mormor (mother's mother... it's the Danske way) has more energy than I have ever seen in a 75 year old. Honestly, it was a little frightening when she picked us up at the train station. I have driven with 17 year olds who were less aggressive. Okay, I embellish, but only a little.
Seriously though, I think she is one of the sweetest and kindest ladies I have ever met. She has a heart of gold... and she fed us, a lot. I think I gained 5 pounds this weekend. Somebody send me my running shoes, I need to get back on the wagon.
On Sunday, she took my cousin and I on a little drive around the area where she and my grandfather grew up. She pointed out the places where they went to school, where they used to go for walks, the fields my morfar (mother's father... it's the Danske way)used to work. Having never actually seen where my family grew up, my history and such, it was an interesting experience. I have seen the place where my father grew up, but that was really the only family history I have been able to see. Also, it was in the back woods of Sudbury, so I was a little nervous about being there. I was sure I could here a couple banjos dueling off in the background. I need to go back to Lolland to see the farm where my morfar grew up, I think that will be an interesting time. Before that though, I need to find the house in Købehavn where my mormor lived. Mom?
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Metaphysics and Anti-Metaphysics
København. Copenhagen if you will. Another old city with beautiful architecture and history to get lost in. The drivers here are a little less homicidal than Londoners are, I consider that to be a mark in København's favour.
So far I have managed to not get lost in the city, which must mean it is a simple city to navigate. (Some people are loath to believe my sense of direction is sufficient to navigate the supermarket) Now, I think I deserve some credit for making my way through a city where none of the signs are in English. Just a little credit?
The one issue I do have with København is the fact that many bars close at 6am and serve 1L beers. Lord have mercy! ONE LITRE BEERS! I have never had to two-hand a single beer before. Yes, there were a few late nights. No, that is not really true, I should say there were a few early mornings. There really is nothing like partying until the sun comes up. Unless of course some one buys all of my drinks, then that is even better. Consider it one of the perks of being a foreigner.
Of course, being a foreigner also makes it fairly easy to make friends, although if the spoils of a dice game are five pints of beer, that makes it fairly simple to be the most popular guy in the bar. Do you remember the scene in the second Pirates of the Caribbean movie where Orlando Bloom plays a dice game for his father's freedom? Well, that is a popular game here, called Cheat I think. The locals play it in bars and the losers buy the next round. Long story short, it's an easy game made even easier when playing a against a troop of drunk 17-18 year-olds. I made off like a bandit and they had to go to bed. Something about a football (soccer) tournament the next day. Rookies. What's a guy to do when there is a table full of pints, as a good Canadian, I couldn't let them go to waste. So I went to the next table and made some new friends. I would just like to go on record now and offer a pint to the first person who can explain to me what the hell metaphysics vs anti-metaphysics means. I can only vaguely recall the conversation with the folks I met, but I think it was fairly involved. I think it encompassed the meaning of life and the relative goodness vs evilness of people. I slept most of the next day.
This week has been spent mostly exploring the city, walking around and NOT getting lost. After spending a month in Toronto and being used to having to drive somewhere, it is refreshing to be able to get anywhere in this city quickly and easily. The public transportation here is incredible. Trains, subways, busses, bicycle ROADS everywhere. Of course, cars are taxed at something around 105%. The trains and busses will take you just about anywhere you could want to go in this country. There is even a subway line that will take you to Sweden.
I should mention something about the beaches here. Fantastic. And not just for the fine sand and view of the ocean. I think next time I will where sunscreen, ouch.
Well, today is Friday and hopefully I will be going out with some new friends. It won't be a late night though, I am heading out to Lolland tomorrow to see more family and it may not be wise to be viciously tire and hungover...
(Edit: I have reposted this so it is in the proper order)
So far I have managed to not get lost in the city, which must mean it is a simple city to navigate. (Some people are loath to believe my sense of direction is sufficient to navigate the supermarket) Now, I think I deserve some credit for making my way through a city where none of the signs are in English. Just a little credit?
The one issue I do have with København is the fact that many bars close at 6am and serve 1L beers. Lord have mercy! ONE LITRE BEERS! I have never had to two-hand a single beer before. Yes, there were a few late nights. No, that is not really true, I should say there were a few early mornings. There really is nothing like partying until the sun comes up. Unless of course some one buys all of my drinks, then that is even better. Consider it one of the perks of being a foreigner.
Of course, being a foreigner also makes it fairly easy to make friends, although if the spoils of a dice game are five pints of beer, that makes it fairly simple to be the most popular guy in the bar. Do you remember the scene in the second Pirates of the Caribbean movie where Orlando Bloom plays a dice game for his father's freedom? Well, that is a popular game here, called Cheat I think. The locals play it in bars and the losers buy the next round. Long story short, it's an easy game made even easier when playing a against a troop of drunk 17-18 year-olds. I made off like a bandit and they had to go to bed. Something about a football (soccer) tournament the next day. Rookies. What's a guy to do when there is a table full of pints, as a good Canadian, I couldn't let them go to waste. So I went to the next table and made some new friends. I would just like to go on record now and offer a pint to the first person who can explain to me what the hell metaphysics vs anti-metaphysics means. I can only vaguely recall the conversation with the folks I met, but I think it was fairly involved. I think it encompassed the meaning of life and the relative goodness vs evilness of people. I slept most of the next day.
This week has been spent mostly exploring the city, walking around and NOT getting lost. After spending a month in Toronto and being used to having to drive somewhere, it is refreshing to be able to get anywhere in this city quickly and easily. The public transportation here is incredible. Trains, subways, busses, bicycle ROADS everywhere. Of course, cars are taxed at something around 105%. The trains and busses will take you just about anywhere you could want to go in this country. There is even a subway line that will take you to Sweden.
I should mention something about the beaches here. Fantastic. And not just for the fine sand and view of the ocean. I think next time I will where sunscreen, ouch.
Well, today is Friday and hopefully I will be going out with some new friends. It won't be a late night though, I am heading out to Lolland tomorrow to see more family and it may not be wise to be viciously tire and hungover...
(Edit: I have reposted this so it is in the proper order)
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Halifax Photos
I just realized I haven't posted anything from Halifax yet. Here are a few, the rest are in my Picassa album. Just click on a photo to bring you there.
A few photos of London
I don't care much for taking touristy shots, but here a few of some the architecture that caught my eye.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Three nights in London and very little sleep.
By the time I got to the hostel I was pretty tired, but still wound up on adrenaline. I hadn't slept on the plane and the previous night I was up until the wee hours of the morning, but I still had to explore my new home. Not having the learned the trick to meeting new people yet, I decided to retire to my room for a bit and catch a little sleep. My room of course, was a mixed dorm room with 8 beds, but when I got in, it was empty.
I hadn't rested my eyes for ten minutes before a very beautiful Norwegian girl (I mean really beautiful) walked in with a handful of her day's purchases. There was only one thing to do, introduce myself and ask her what she had bought. Guro (and don't even bother trying to pronounce it, you are still wrong) and I hit off very well.
Of course she had already made plans to meet some other dude she picked up while she was shopping, but invited me to come out anyway. Who was I to turn down an invitation to party in London? Now, I haven't really made a life of partying every weekend or even occasionally, but I have gone out a few times and enjoyed a crowd. Nothing I have experienced compairs to the drunken debauchery Londoners enjoy on any given night! By the end of the night, there were couples all over the place making out and groping each other like there was no one watching. Apparently I am a bit of a prude or completely unlucky in love, take your pick.
My new friend had appeared to have fallen in love and only surfaced for air once in a while to make sure I hadn't disappeared. By the end of the evening she decided she really wasn't in love and that he was a lousy kisser. I guess there was some oxygen getting to her brain.
The next day we explored the city and took in some sights. Yup, very cool. Trafalgar Square, Big Ben, et al. Okay, the city is pretty cool and I did enjoy seeing the old architecture.
We decided we would go out again and enjoy more nightlife, but it was Sunday night and we had no idea where to go. Of course by the time she was ready (I think it was about 2.5 hours) it was pretty late, so we had to find some food. Good luck finding anywhere to sit down and eat at 12am, now try it with a girl who is allergic to gluton. Good gawd. Anyway, we did manage to find a place with a nice outdoor patio and a decent menu. Unfortunately we had the angry French girl who forgot our order, twice. By the time we were finishing our bottle of wine, she was literally chasing people off the patio. Not nicely, mind you, but very not nicely and a little bit meanly. To top it all off, she included at 10% service charge on the bill, she must have known that was the only tip she was getting.
By this time it is almost 1am and there was very little open. We did find a place that had music playing and was still serving. One question though, what the hell to the Brits have with Snow, two nights in a row... something something something INFORMER! Why I ask you, why? 2am rolled around fairly quickly and we were all ejected without ceremony. Bugger.
We wondered up the street a little bit with a group of New Zealanders, lamenting about how much London sucked as a party town. Her Royal Princess Hotness and Chaser of Men who are Not Me started chatting with the security at a casino. She found where there was a good place to go with some great house music, but we went inside to the casino instead because she saw a cute bouncer. At the time I thought the house music was inside there because I was chatting with the other fellas from NZ. I should have known better.
After we joined this casino, we went inside to party some more. No, we went inside to find the security guard who made Princess Oblivious giggle like a Norwegian school girl. Once I realized there was no loud thumping music and a lack of single women that would cause GWB to issue a terror alert, I promptly sat my ass at the main bar and decided I should drown my sorrows. Ha, karma is cruel. The bartender was a Russian fella who thought he would help... 25ml Absolut Vodka pepper, dash pepper, dash salt, fresh squeeze from a lime slice, and tobasco later, things were looking up. I ordered one more drink and the rest came for free. I liked this fella, he was a good guy. By the time Princess Googly Eyes and I decided to call it a night, we realized it was actually day and the Underground was open again. Convenient.
Day three... Princess Shopaholic and I seperated ways for a bit, I think we were mutually sick of each other and needed a break. I was able to get some laundry done, thank gawd, and went wandering the city for hours. It really is a beautiful city.
By the time I got back and had some dinner, she was snuggled up in bed for a nap. We decided it was a good time to use our free drinks at the onsite bar. Some how after that, we ended up at Picadilla Circus again to meet the Parisian boy who shaves his chest and has hair like a hedgehog she picked up while shopping. Did I mention she bought about 4 pairs of shoes, a hand bag, I don't know how many dresses, and gawd knows what else? No, well, she did.
To be fair, Parisian boy was actually pretty decent. We went to a wild club that had three leves, was really hot and sweaty, and had drinks for a quid. I walked back to the hostel on my own.
That night I booked a flight to Copenhagen.
I hadn't rested my eyes for ten minutes before a very beautiful Norwegian girl (I mean really beautiful) walked in with a handful of her day's purchases. There was only one thing to do, introduce myself and ask her what she had bought. Guro (and don't even bother trying to pronounce it, you are still wrong) and I hit off very well.
Of course she had already made plans to meet some other dude she picked up while she was shopping, but invited me to come out anyway. Who was I to turn down an invitation to party in London? Now, I haven't really made a life of partying every weekend or even occasionally, but I have gone out a few times and enjoyed a crowd. Nothing I have experienced compairs to the drunken debauchery Londoners enjoy on any given night! By the end of the night, there were couples all over the place making out and groping each other like there was no one watching. Apparently I am a bit of a prude or completely unlucky in love, take your pick.
My new friend had appeared to have fallen in love and only surfaced for air once in a while to make sure I hadn't disappeared. By the end of the evening she decided she really wasn't in love and that he was a lousy kisser. I guess there was some oxygen getting to her brain.
The next day we explored the city and took in some sights. Yup, very cool. Trafalgar Square, Big Ben, et al. Okay, the city is pretty cool and I did enjoy seeing the old architecture.
We decided we would go out again and enjoy more nightlife, but it was Sunday night and we had no idea where to go. Of course by the time she was ready (I think it was about 2.5 hours) it was pretty late, so we had to find some food. Good luck finding anywhere to sit down and eat at 12am, now try it with a girl who is allergic to gluton. Good gawd. Anyway, we did manage to find a place with a nice outdoor patio and a decent menu. Unfortunately we had the angry French girl who forgot our order, twice. By the time we were finishing our bottle of wine, she was literally chasing people off the patio. Not nicely, mind you, but very not nicely and a little bit meanly. To top it all off, she included at 10% service charge on the bill, she must have known that was the only tip she was getting.
By this time it is almost 1am and there was very little open. We did find a place that had music playing and was still serving. One question though, what the hell to the Brits have with Snow, two nights in a row... something something something INFORMER! Why I ask you, why? 2am rolled around fairly quickly and we were all ejected without ceremony. Bugger.
We wondered up the street a little bit with a group of New Zealanders, lamenting about how much London sucked as a party town. Her Royal Princess Hotness and Chaser of Men who are Not Me started chatting with the security at a casino. She found where there was a good place to go with some great house music, but we went inside to the casino instead because she saw a cute bouncer. At the time I thought the house music was inside there because I was chatting with the other fellas from NZ. I should have known better.
After we joined this casino, we went inside to party some more. No, we went inside to find the security guard who made Princess Oblivious giggle like a Norwegian school girl. Once I realized there was no loud thumping music and a lack of single women that would cause GWB to issue a terror alert, I promptly sat my ass at the main bar and decided I should drown my sorrows. Ha, karma is cruel. The bartender was a Russian fella who thought he would help... 25ml Absolut Vodka pepper, dash pepper, dash salt, fresh squeeze from a lime slice, and tobasco later, things were looking up. I ordered one more drink and the rest came for free. I liked this fella, he was a good guy. By the time Princess Googly Eyes and I decided to call it a night, we realized it was actually day and the Underground was open again. Convenient.
Day three... Princess Shopaholic and I seperated ways for a bit, I think we were mutually sick of each other and needed a break. I was able to get some laundry done, thank gawd, and went wandering the city for hours. It really is a beautiful city.
By the time I got back and had some dinner, she was snuggled up in bed for a nap. We decided it was a good time to use our free drinks at the onsite bar. Some how after that, we ended up at Picadilla Circus again to meet the Parisian boy who shaves his chest and has hair like a hedgehog she picked up while shopping. Did I mention she bought about 4 pairs of shoes, a hand bag, I don't know how many dresses, and gawd knows what else? No, well, she did.
To be fair, Parisian boy was actually pretty decent. We went to a wild club that had three leves, was really hot and sweaty, and had drinks for a quid. I walked back to the hostel on my own.
That night I booked a flight to Copenhagen.
Monday, June 11, 2007
London London
London is a fabulous city. Expensive as hell, but worth the time.
I landed here on Saturday morning, things were going well until I saw the cue for immigration. There were close to a thousand people in line. Fortunately though, it did move very quickly and I was in line for probably less than an 45 minutes. When I finally got to the desk, the lady quickly informed I was to have filled out a landing card first. Oops. Bother. I wish I had known that BEFORE I lined up and waited, it was okay though. The security guard directing people had a handful, so I was able to fill one out without having to line up all over again.
Now, I was pretty excited to be here. I mean, this is my first time traveling and all. I did expect the officer to ask me questions about what I was doing and where I was going. What I didn't expect was the third degree. For a few moments, I thought I was about to be sent home. I believe the fella was having a bad day and wanted to exact some revenge on some poor soul. I some how managed to answer is questions to at least to adequately satisfy the requirements.
After that, getting to my hostel was a breeze. I am fortunate to be blessed with an excellent sense of direction. Otherwise, I might have taken the wrong train from the airport, gone across town on the underground, and wandered around for two hours looking for the hostel.
I landed here on Saturday morning, things were going well until I saw the cue for immigration. There were close to a thousand people in line. Fortunately though, it did move very quickly and I was in line for probably less than an 45 minutes. When I finally got to the desk, the lady quickly informed I was to have filled out a landing card first. Oops. Bother. I wish I had known that BEFORE I lined up and waited, it was okay though. The security guard directing people had a handful, so I was able to fill one out without having to line up all over again.
Now, I was pretty excited to be here. I mean, this is my first time traveling and all. I did expect the officer to ask me questions about what I was doing and where I was going. What I didn't expect was the third degree. For a few moments, I thought I was about to be sent home. I believe the fella was having a bad day and wanted to exact some revenge on some poor soul. I some how managed to answer is questions to at least to adequately satisfy the requirements.
After that, getting to my hostel was a breeze. I am fortunate to be blessed with an excellent sense of direction. Otherwise, I might have taken the wrong train from the airport, gone across town on the underground, and wandered around for two hours looking for the hostel.
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