Saturday, April 01, 2006
IX. Mother’s Day at Tivoli; Syttende Mai i Askim [originally posted Saturday 20 May 2000]
Just got back from a full week on the road -- kind of a “shakedown” for my month-long trip in June. Started out Friday morning (May 12) with a five AM telephone interview with a search committee for a part-time church position back in the United States next fall, then met my mother at the train station as she returned from her week-long excursion to the Norwegian Fjords, and we made a quick connection to the InterCity into Copenhagen. I’d arranged accommodations in a private home recommended to me by a friend at the University of Oregon, who had neglected to mention (just as I had neglected to ask) that it was located on the fourth floor; we lugged our luggage up five flights of stairs (they count the ground floor as “zero” here in Denmark), but still found the energy to take an hour-long boat tour of the city before eating dinner in a Thai restaurant near where we were staying.
Saturday morning we took a day trip out to Roskilde to see the Cathedral there and the Viking Ship Museum. Had kind of a creepy experience on our way to the S-Tog -- an agitated little old Danish lady approached us about a man sitting unconscious in the bus shelter with a huge gash over his eye; I tried to rouse him but couldn’t, and was afraid for a moment that he was dead, and had simply been dumped by his “friends” outside the hospital near the bus stop. Tried to persuade the woman (in my pidgin “Ding-lish”) that she need to call the police, but she didn’t want anything more to do with the situation, so I finally went into the hospital myself (which is apparently no longer a working hospital anyway) and found someone who spoke English and was willing to come outside and investigate. He was able to rouse the man, determined that he was merely drunk, and promised to take care of everything from there. So I felt like I had done my bit as the Good Samaritan, and we continued on our way in good conscience.
Viking Ship Museum
When we got back from Roskilde, I took my mom out to see the Little Mermaid, then we walked back from the outer harbor (stopping just long enough to visit the Danish WWII Resistance Museum - a relatively quick stop, since there isn’t that much to see) through the grounds of the Royal Palace to Nyhavn -- the “longest bar in Denmark -- an entire street of restaurants and cafes lining a canal filled with picturesque wooden boats, where we paused for some refreshment and got a good look at Copenhagen’s professional bottle scavengers. These are adult men who apparently make their living at the margins of Danish society by collecting and returning bottles for the deposit (about 15 cents each). They are polite, but fairly aggressive in their work; and amazing to watch as they wander through the crowded public areas seizing every empty bottle they see -- much more efficiently than the restaurant workers who deliver the full ones!
Nyhavn
After observing this for awhile, we resumed our walk up Stroget -- Copenhagen’s extensive pedestrian mall, and met my aunt for dinner at Jensen’s Bøfhus (rapidly becoming my favorite restaurant chain in Denmark), where we enjoyed a meal of authentic American-style BBQ spareribs, which are apparently just as popular among the Danes as they are with me. That was pretty much the end of a very full day for my mom, so we all walked back to our flat, then Mary Lou and I spent the rest of the evening at Tivoli, where I remained until midnight just to see the fireworks.
Sunday was another full day of sightseeing. Caught a quick breakfast at a place called the Cafe Saloon, then it was off to Rosenborg Slot to see the Danish Crown jewels, and the National Museum for a very interesting exhibit on Danish history from the time of the iron age to today. Left my mom there to have lunch at the cafe so that I could climb to the top of the steeple of Vor Freslers Kirke in Christianhavn -- 400 steps (they say, and I believe it!) up the inside of the tower and then spiraling outside the steeple itself almost to the pinnacle, where one has a magnificent view of Copenhagen in all directions. Much more impressive (and less claustrophobic) than the climb to the top of the Statue of Liberty, although I think my money is still on the view from the clarion tower at NYC’s Riverside church (which also benefits from having an elevator that will take you almost to the top).
Copenhagen from the steeple of Vor Freslers Kirke
Christianhavn from the steeple of Vor Freslers Kirke
Christiana (you guessed it)
Hurried back to meet Mom again at the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, another interesting art museum whose collection consists almost entirely of sculpture. Stayed there until it closed, then walked across the street to Tivoli (again), so that we could enjoy a special Mother’s Day dinner at the outdoor restaurant located on the deck of a mockup of a Danish sailing frigate, which floats (or at least appears to float) in the large, artificial lagoon there. We enjoyed a magnificent dinner of lamb shank prepared in a savory shellfish broth...it was truly incredible, and afterwards I felt compelled to thank my mother for giving birth to me simply so that I could be there to enjoy such a delicious meal.
We also had a chance to relax a bit and watch the nightly parade of the “Prince and Princess” -- two costumed children who ride around the grounds of the garden in a golden carriage, accompanied by a marching band and a small escort of soldiers and sailors...also all children, ranging in age from perhaps 8 to 15. Both my aunt and my mom were charmed by Tivoli (Mom probably more so than Mary Lou); it is so quintessentially Danish -- a combination of garden and amusement park and small town Fourth of July style hoopla with a peculiarly Danish twist. After dinner we ate ice creams, watched some Chinese acrobats, then sat down on a park bench near a bandshell and listened to Tivoli’s “Big Band” play swing music from my mother’s childhood. A truly terrific evening for my mom’s last night in Europe.
Cleaning the toiletter at Fredericksborg Slot
Monday morning we took a cab out to the airport, where Mom checked her bags for her afternoon flight home, then we caught a train back into the city, stashed my bag in a locker at the station, then caught another train out to Hollerød to see yet another castle: Fredericksborg Slot, sometimes referred to as the Danish Versailles, because of it’s extensive grounds and topiary garden. Got there early enough that we had time to wander through the gardens before the castle itself opened at 10, then made a quick tour of the castle and chapel (where I got to impress both my mom and one of the museum guards by translating the placards for her), then it was back into the city, where Mom decided to spend a little more time at Tivoli (free admission with her “Copenhagen Card”) before catching her train out to the airport, and I jumped on the InterCity back to Aalborg.
When I got home I thought I’d catch a bus out to the University to read my e-mail, and actually waited at the bus stop for nearly 20 minutes before a passerby kindly informed me that the bus drivers were all on strike. Decide to go ahead and walk to campus...took me nearly an hour to get there, but at least on the way I finally discovered a schoolyard where Danish kids play pick-up basketball! Nearly stopped to take a few shots myself, but I was on a mission. Arrived at my office, completed my internet chores, walk back to my apartment by a different route (along the bike path -- better scenery and fewer hills), and arrived home exhausted just as the sun was setting around 10 pm.
Woke up early the next morning to catch the train north to Frederikshavn, and a ferry to Göteborg, Sweden, where I was to connect to another train to Oslo to visit a Norwegian clergyman and schoolteacher whom I had met over the internet. Last Christmas Knut posted a message to the UUCF-chat saying that his Christmas Wish was for a Unitarian minister to come to Norway and organize a Unitarian Fellowship; I replied “Surprise!” and was invited to visit him and his family for “Syttende Mai” (the 17th of May), Norwegian Constitution Day.
My trip was nearly scuttled though in the Frederikshavn harbor, when I discovered that the ferry I had planned to take to Sweden had broken down, and that I would have to wait three hours for the next one, destroying the rest of my itinerary. To complicate matters, I had completed one volume of my diary the previous evening, and then rushed out of the house that morning with a blank one without transferring all of the addresses and telephone numbers I’d written on the flyleaf into the new volume. But with the assistance of a very able customer service rep, we were able to contact Knut over the internet and inform him of the change of plans, and I was on my way.
Knut and his family met me at the train station in Ski a little before 10 pm, and we drove the 40 minutes back to their home in Askim, a little town of perhaps 12,000 located about an hour outside of Oslo. Knut had warned me what to expect: three small children, a house in the midst of being remodeled, a large German Shepherd named Freya, and a bed on the couch. So naturally I felt right at home, especially since the bed was actually in a private room in the basement just opposite the surviving bathroom (there is a much larger one being planned for the new addition, along with a new kitchen and individual bedrooms for the children), and was (may the the truth be told) a lot more comfortable than the convertible couch I sleep on in my apartment in Aalborg! We enjoyed a light supper of cold cuts and cheese (very Scandinavian), and then all turned in for the night in order to be moderately well-rested for the festivities of the following day.
Wednesday morning I was the first to wake, and startled Knut in the kitchen when he came down to make coffee and found me sitting quietly at the kitchen table trying to translate the Norwegian national hymn >>Ja Vi Elsker.<< The first verse goes something like this: “Yes we love this country/ which springs forth/ its wrinkled face, bitten by weather over waters/ [and] its thousand homes./ We love it, love it and reflect/ upon our fathers and mothers/ and their sagas which whisper/ dreams of our land.” The last couplet repeats, and it is really rather stirring when sung by dozens of little schoolchildren, which was one of Hans Alexander’s (the oldest child) duties later in the day.
Knut had church responsibilities in the morning, so Anette and I herded the children over to the school, where Hans Alexander joined his class for the “train” -- a parade of all the schoolchildren around the streets of the town. Well-equipped with horns (“Tromba”), pinwheels, and Norwegian flags, Anette, Carl Christian (a preschooler), Inger Johanne (the baby) and myself then made our way back to the parade route to wait for the “train” to arrive. There were lots of folks dressed up in traditional Norwegian clothing, plus plenty of balloons, bunting and cameras...and as the train passed by, we all followed after it up to the hospital and then to the church, where we heard a few speeches, snag the national hymn, and dispersed for the afternoon to various family-oriented activities. Knut met us back at the school, where there was a universally-recognizable school picnic and bake sale taking place: kids eating ice cream and pølse wrapped in tortillas, playing soccer or simply running about; moms selling sodas and baked goods, and generally trying to keep order over chaos.
For supper that night, Knut prepared a traditional Norwegian meal especially for me: steamed broccoli, boiled potatoes, and reindeer meat in a brown, mushroom gravy -- yum! Sat up a little and talked about the challenges of organizing a Unitarian Fellowship in Norway, where church attendance is generally low to begin with, but the National Church is both an expression of national identity and an extension of the national government. He was particularly concerned about how his bishop would react if he learned of his Unitarian sympathies; I compared his situation to that of being a Christian in the UUA, and we talked a little more about what it meant to each of us to be both a minister within a specific church organization and a “minister of the gospel.” We also decided that bishops are bishops everywhere, regardless of what they choose to call themselves.
Thursday was my day for sightseeing in Oslo. Much to Knut’s envy, Anette had the day off from work, so we safely got the children off to school and to their regular day-care, then drove into Oslo, bought a couple of “Oslo Cards” (which gave us free parking, free transportation, a free map, and free admission to museums) and were in business. First a trip across the harbor on one of the water taxis, a walk up the hill to the Oslo Viking Ship Museum, then back down the hill to see the Fram (a polar exploring ship which holds the distinction of having been the farthest north and the farthest south of any sailing vessel) and the Kon Tiki (a balsa wood raft which Norwegian mariner Thor Hyordahl sailed across the Pacific to demonstrate that Polynesia might have been populated from South America).
Then another water taxi ride back across the harbor to the old fortress and the Norwegian Resistance Museum (are you sensing a pattern to my sightseeing here?), which was a lot more interesting than the one in Denmark, principally I think (Quisling excepted...Knut later told me that we walked right past the wall where he was shot after the war) because the Norwegians put up a lot more resistance to the Nazis than the Danes! We stayed there until closing time, then had a little coffee and carrot cake (OK, I had coffee and carrot cake; Anette ate a sandwich) at a small cafe before driving back to Askim, where Knut had prepared another traditional Norwegian dish for me: a kind of fish curry again served with boiled potatoes.
Friday morning Knut dropped me off at the train station on his way into school, and I slowly made my way back to Aalborg. I’d thought about going on to Stockholm, but decided against it since the weather was getting kind of crummy, I’d left all those addresses back home as well, and the only things I could think of that I really wanted to do there were see the Vasa, sleep at the floating Af Chapman youth hostel, and take a sauna... all things that can easily wait until another day.
Train back to Göttborg was no problem, but again the fast ferry was not running, so I had to wait for the late afternoon boat: three hours of utter boredom in the terminal, followed by three hours of bedlam on the water. The Friday evening ferry back to Denmark was simply insane: crammed with loud, drunk, smoking Scandinavians apparently interested only in gambling or shopping at the duty-free -- basically a floating Indian reservation without even the benefit of any actual Indians. It got so bad I was tempted to try to sneak into the truck driver’s lounge (yes, they have their own lounge...which I had been curious about on the voyage over, but now understand perfectly) just for the peace and quiet. Or maybe I was simply grumpy because by that point I was tired, hungry, sober and alone... with only five Swedish kroner in my pocket (not even enough for a slot machine) and not particularly eager to change any more money.
The boat actually arrived at the dock ten minutes early, but made up for this by keeping us all on board until ten minutes AFTER the scheduled arrival time, thus assuring that I miss the tight train connection back to Aalborg, and giving me another 45 minute wait at the railway station, where the restaurant had just closed five minutes earlier! But here I am, safe and sound, and with plenty of good travel lessons under my belt, which I’m certain will come in useful in the month ahead.
Med venlig hilsen...........twj
Just got back from a full week on the road -- kind of a “shakedown” for my month-long trip in June. Started out Friday morning (May 12) with a five AM telephone interview with a search committee for a part-time church position back in the United States next fall, then met my mother at the train station as she returned from her week-long excursion to the Norwegian Fjords, and we made a quick connection to the InterCity into Copenhagen. I’d arranged accommodations in a private home recommended to me by a friend at the University of Oregon, who had neglected to mention (just as I had neglected to ask) that it was located on the fourth floor; we lugged our luggage up five flights of stairs (they count the ground floor as “zero” here in Denmark), but still found the energy to take an hour-long boat tour of the city before eating dinner in a Thai restaurant near where we were staying.
Saturday morning we took a day trip out to Roskilde to see the Cathedral there and the Viking Ship Museum. Had kind of a creepy experience on our way to the S-Tog -- an agitated little old Danish lady approached us about a man sitting unconscious in the bus shelter with a huge gash over his eye; I tried to rouse him but couldn’t, and was afraid for a moment that he was dead, and had simply been dumped by his “friends” outside the hospital near the bus stop. Tried to persuade the woman (in my pidgin “Ding-lish”) that she need to call the police, but she didn’t want anything more to do with the situation, so I finally went into the hospital myself (which is apparently no longer a working hospital anyway) and found someone who spoke English and was willing to come outside and investigate. He was able to rouse the man, determined that he was merely drunk, and promised to take care of everything from there. So I felt like I had done my bit as the Good Samaritan, and we continued on our way in good conscience.
Viking Ship Museum
When we got back from Roskilde, I took my mom out to see the Little Mermaid, then we walked back from the outer harbor (stopping just long enough to visit the Danish WWII Resistance Museum - a relatively quick stop, since there isn’t that much to see) through the grounds of the Royal Palace to Nyhavn -- the “longest bar in Denmark -- an entire street of restaurants and cafes lining a canal filled with picturesque wooden boats, where we paused for some refreshment and got a good look at Copenhagen’s professional bottle scavengers. These are adult men who apparently make their living at the margins of Danish society by collecting and returning bottles for the deposit (about 15 cents each). They are polite, but fairly aggressive in their work; and amazing to watch as they wander through the crowded public areas seizing every empty bottle they see -- much more efficiently than the restaurant workers who deliver the full ones!
Nyhavn
After observing this for awhile, we resumed our walk up Stroget -- Copenhagen’s extensive pedestrian mall, and met my aunt for dinner at Jensen’s Bøfhus (rapidly becoming my favorite restaurant chain in Denmark), where we enjoyed a meal of authentic American-style BBQ spareribs, which are apparently just as popular among the Danes as they are with me. That was pretty much the end of a very full day for my mom, so we all walked back to our flat, then Mary Lou and I spent the rest of the evening at Tivoli, where I remained until midnight just to see the fireworks.
Sunday was another full day of sightseeing. Caught a quick breakfast at a place called the Cafe Saloon, then it was off to Rosenborg Slot to see the Danish Crown jewels, and the National Museum for a very interesting exhibit on Danish history from the time of the iron age to today. Left my mom there to have lunch at the cafe so that I could climb to the top of the steeple of Vor Freslers Kirke in Christianhavn -- 400 steps (they say, and I believe it!) up the inside of the tower and then spiraling outside the steeple itself almost to the pinnacle, where one has a magnificent view of Copenhagen in all directions. Much more impressive (and less claustrophobic) than the climb to the top of the Statue of Liberty, although I think my money is still on the view from the clarion tower at NYC’s Riverside church (which also benefits from having an elevator that will take you almost to the top).
Copenhagen from the steeple of Vor Freslers Kirke
Christianhavn from the steeple of Vor Freslers Kirke
Christiana (you guessed it)
Hurried back to meet Mom again at the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, another interesting art museum whose collection consists almost entirely of sculpture. Stayed there until it closed, then walked across the street to Tivoli (again), so that we could enjoy a special Mother’s Day dinner at the outdoor restaurant located on the deck of a mockup of a Danish sailing frigate, which floats (or at least appears to float) in the large, artificial lagoon there. We enjoyed a magnificent dinner of lamb shank prepared in a savory shellfish broth...it was truly incredible, and afterwards I felt compelled to thank my mother for giving birth to me simply so that I could be there to enjoy such a delicious meal.
We also had a chance to relax a bit and watch the nightly parade of the “Prince and Princess” -- two costumed children who ride around the grounds of the garden in a golden carriage, accompanied by a marching band and a small escort of soldiers and sailors...also all children, ranging in age from perhaps 8 to 15. Both my aunt and my mom were charmed by Tivoli (Mom probably more so than Mary Lou); it is so quintessentially Danish -- a combination of garden and amusement park and small town Fourth of July style hoopla with a peculiarly Danish twist. After dinner we ate ice creams, watched some Chinese acrobats, then sat down on a park bench near a bandshell and listened to Tivoli’s “Big Band” play swing music from my mother’s childhood. A truly terrific evening for my mom’s last night in Europe.
Cleaning the toiletter at Fredericksborg Slot
Monday morning we took a cab out to the airport, where Mom checked her bags for her afternoon flight home, then we caught a train back into the city, stashed my bag in a locker at the station, then caught another train out to Hollerød to see yet another castle: Fredericksborg Slot, sometimes referred to as the Danish Versailles, because of it’s extensive grounds and topiary garden. Got there early enough that we had time to wander through the gardens before the castle itself opened at 10, then made a quick tour of the castle and chapel (where I got to impress both my mom and one of the museum guards by translating the placards for her), then it was back into the city, where Mom decided to spend a little more time at Tivoli (free admission with her “Copenhagen Card”) before catching her train out to the airport, and I jumped on the InterCity back to Aalborg.
When I got home I thought I’d catch a bus out to the University to read my e-mail, and actually waited at the bus stop for nearly 20 minutes before a passerby kindly informed me that the bus drivers were all on strike. Decide to go ahead and walk to campus...took me nearly an hour to get there, but at least on the way I finally discovered a schoolyard where Danish kids play pick-up basketball! Nearly stopped to take a few shots myself, but I was on a mission. Arrived at my office, completed my internet chores, walk back to my apartment by a different route (along the bike path -- better scenery and fewer hills), and arrived home exhausted just as the sun was setting around 10 pm.
Woke up early the next morning to catch the train north to Frederikshavn, and a ferry to Göteborg, Sweden, where I was to connect to another train to Oslo to visit a Norwegian clergyman and schoolteacher whom I had met over the internet. Last Christmas Knut posted a message to the UUCF-chat saying that his Christmas Wish was for a Unitarian minister to come to Norway and organize a Unitarian Fellowship; I replied “Surprise!” and was invited to visit him and his family for “Syttende Mai” (the 17th of May), Norwegian Constitution Day.
My trip was nearly scuttled though in the Frederikshavn harbor, when I discovered that the ferry I had planned to take to Sweden had broken down, and that I would have to wait three hours for the next one, destroying the rest of my itinerary. To complicate matters, I had completed one volume of my diary the previous evening, and then rushed out of the house that morning with a blank one without transferring all of the addresses and telephone numbers I’d written on the flyleaf into the new volume. But with the assistance of a very able customer service rep, we were able to contact Knut over the internet and inform him of the change of plans, and I was on my way.
Knut and his family met me at the train station in Ski a little before 10 pm, and we drove the 40 minutes back to their home in Askim, a little town of perhaps 12,000 located about an hour outside of Oslo. Knut had warned me what to expect: three small children, a house in the midst of being remodeled, a large German Shepherd named Freya, and a bed on the couch. So naturally I felt right at home, especially since the bed was actually in a private room in the basement just opposite the surviving bathroom (there is a much larger one being planned for the new addition, along with a new kitchen and individual bedrooms for the children), and was (may the the truth be told) a lot more comfortable than the convertible couch I sleep on in my apartment in Aalborg! We enjoyed a light supper of cold cuts and cheese (very Scandinavian), and then all turned in for the night in order to be moderately well-rested for the festivities of the following day.
Wednesday morning I was the first to wake, and startled Knut in the kitchen when he came down to make coffee and found me sitting quietly at the kitchen table trying to translate the Norwegian national hymn >>Ja Vi Elsker.<< The first verse goes something like this: “Yes we love this country/ which springs forth/ its wrinkled face, bitten by weather over waters/ [and] its thousand homes./ We love it, love it and reflect/ upon our fathers and mothers/ and their sagas which whisper/ dreams of our land.” The last couplet repeats, and it is really rather stirring when sung by dozens of little schoolchildren, which was one of Hans Alexander’s (the oldest child) duties later in the day.
Knut had church responsibilities in the morning, so Anette and I herded the children over to the school, where Hans Alexander joined his class for the “train” -- a parade of all the schoolchildren around the streets of the town. Well-equipped with horns (“Tromba”), pinwheels, and Norwegian flags, Anette, Carl Christian (a preschooler), Inger Johanne (the baby) and myself then made our way back to the parade route to wait for the “train” to arrive. There were lots of folks dressed up in traditional Norwegian clothing, plus plenty of balloons, bunting and cameras...and as the train passed by, we all followed after it up to the hospital and then to the church, where we heard a few speeches, snag the national hymn, and dispersed for the afternoon to various family-oriented activities. Knut met us back at the school, where there was a universally-recognizable school picnic and bake sale taking place: kids eating ice cream and pølse wrapped in tortillas, playing soccer or simply running about; moms selling sodas and baked goods, and generally trying to keep order over chaos.
For supper that night, Knut prepared a traditional Norwegian meal especially for me: steamed broccoli, boiled potatoes, and reindeer meat in a brown, mushroom gravy -- yum! Sat up a little and talked about the challenges of organizing a Unitarian Fellowship in Norway, where church attendance is generally low to begin with, but the National Church is both an expression of national identity and an extension of the national government. He was particularly concerned about how his bishop would react if he learned of his Unitarian sympathies; I compared his situation to that of being a Christian in the UUA, and we talked a little more about what it meant to each of us to be both a minister within a specific church organization and a “minister of the gospel.” We also decided that bishops are bishops everywhere, regardless of what they choose to call themselves.
Thursday was my day for sightseeing in Oslo. Much to Knut’s envy, Anette had the day off from work, so we safely got the children off to school and to their regular day-care, then drove into Oslo, bought a couple of “Oslo Cards” (which gave us free parking, free transportation, a free map, and free admission to museums) and were in business. First a trip across the harbor on one of the water taxis, a walk up the hill to the Oslo Viking Ship Museum, then back down the hill to see the Fram (a polar exploring ship which holds the distinction of having been the farthest north and the farthest south of any sailing vessel) and the Kon Tiki (a balsa wood raft which Norwegian mariner Thor Hyordahl sailed across the Pacific to demonstrate that Polynesia might have been populated from South America).
Then another water taxi ride back across the harbor to the old fortress and the Norwegian Resistance Museum (are you sensing a pattern to my sightseeing here?), which was a lot more interesting than the one in Denmark, principally I think (Quisling excepted...Knut later told me that we walked right past the wall where he was shot after the war) because the Norwegians put up a lot more resistance to the Nazis than the Danes! We stayed there until closing time, then had a little coffee and carrot cake (OK, I had coffee and carrot cake; Anette ate a sandwich) at a small cafe before driving back to Askim, where Knut had prepared another traditional Norwegian dish for me: a kind of fish curry again served with boiled potatoes.
Friday morning Knut dropped me off at the train station on his way into school, and I slowly made my way back to Aalborg. I’d thought about going on to Stockholm, but decided against it since the weather was getting kind of crummy, I’d left all those addresses back home as well, and the only things I could think of that I really wanted to do there were see the Vasa, sleep at the floating Af Chapman youth hostel, and take a sauna... all things that can easily wait until another day.
Train back to Göttborg was no problem, but again the fast ferry was not running, so I had to wait for the late afternoon boat: three hours of utter boredom in the terminal, followed by three hours of bedlam on the water. The Friday evening ferry back to Denmark was simply insane: crammed with loud, drunk, smoking Scandinavians apparently interested only in gambling or shopping at the duty-free -- basically a floating Indian reservation without even the benefit of any actual Indians. It got so bad I was tempted to try to sneak into the truck driver’s lounge (yes, they have their own lounge...which I had been curious about on the voyage over, but now understand perfectly) just for the peace and quiet. Or maybe I was simply grumpy because by that point I was tired, hungry, sober and alone... with only five Swedish kroner in my pocket (not even enough for a slot machine) and not particularly eager to change any more money.
The boat actually arrived at the dock ten minutes early, but made up for this by keeping us all on board until ten minutes AFTER the scheduled arrival time, thus assuring that I miss the tight train connection back to Aalborg, and giving me another 45 minute wait at the railway station, where the restaurant had just closed five minutes earlier! But here I am, safe and sound, and with plenty of good travel lessons under my belt, which I’m certain will come in useful in the month ahead.
Med venlig hilsen...........twj
# posted by The Eclectic Cleric @ 2:11 PM 
