Wednesday, September 23, 2009



You can not keep me awake on transit. It just an not be done. You plunk me down on a ferry, or on a long bus ride, or an airplane, or – or – or in this case a train, and that's it. That's the end of me. Out like the light which has been smashed into a thousand pieces, requiring one half of a sliced potato to be removed from the socket.

I try to stay awake and look out the window, but that makes it even worse. Unable to focus on the countryside moving by so fast my mind just tells me to sleep, and wake up when it's all over. When I wear my glasses I can remain alert – but I'm not wearing them, so that's of no use now is it?

Hopping about the train, I realized one of my three locks were broken. I need two for my pack, and one for my day pack. I switched them around so it's only my day pack without a lock now – I'll need to replace it – but that's not the point. The point is, I thought that when it was open, I accidentally set the combination to a new number.

So what choice was I left with? What options did I have? Clearly I felt the need to try all 999 combinations. At the end of this, I was upset to find my lock still – firmly – locked. But then I cracked the lock closed, twisting it 180 degrees. It seemed to wiggle a little more. As if the lock were now more likely to open, were the correct combination to be entered. (I know – I know) so again, what choice did I have? I entered all 999 combinations once more. Still, it remained locked. Ai ya – but if that wasn't an hour and a half of my train ride taken care of, I don't know what it was. Aside from an effort in futile obsessive compulsiveness.

I'm just at Alvesta station right now, and cehcking my schedule – yes – in just an hour and a half I'll be at Malmo, where I will transfer for the train to Copenhagen. Or Kobenhavn.

Why is it that we rename cities? This one I can kinda understand – but what about Nipon, and Japan? Do we just see a name and think, nope – I don't like that name. I will change it, and thus make travel harder for every North American who thinks they are familiar with European cities. And when they try to find them on GoogleMaps – ha ha – just as tricky, because it uses the local language for their maps (which makes Asia all sorts of fun.)

The new person beside me on the train (just switched at this station) is a smoker. I no longer like the smell of cigarettes, it seems. What a terrible time to discover that. Wont these next hundred minutes be fun! I should have not showered today – would have showed him! Would have showed them all.

Also, it would seem that I cracked today. I wore long sleeves for the first time on these travels. Sure it's actually a fabulous Scottish Rugby sweater, bought with loving care by a delightful individual. But I don't see it that way. To me, it's the outfit worn by Scott Summers after the initial redesign – I think it was created for when he started working for X-Factor? Or was it X-Force? Maybe he was still with the X-Men. Who can say? So many Xs.

I keep checking to see the glint of my metal clips holding my pack strap on, at the end of the train, in the luggage compartment. Have to make sure it's still there. I wonder how many people steal luggage like this when they exit a train? In theory it would be so easy. I'd imagine, in practice too.

When I arrived in the Copenhagen Central Station, I made my way to the ATM. This would take far longer than necessary. Once there I took out some cash - there's five dollars to you CIBC. Taking my money every time I take it. Ohh well - can't argue with convenience, and the hostel here is cash only - so.

Step 2, find a map. The arrows pointed me to the information booth. Which led right out onto the street. I'm not joking. Once on the street there was nothing. What type of sick joke was this? Asking around I managed to find out it was a few blocks away. When I got there - it was closed. The building was open, but the information and pamphlet area was roped off. There was the map looking me right in the face.

While I considered the repercussions of the sign reading “alarm will sound if broken” I noticed there were more maps on the wall. Success.

Map in hand, I headed out into the streets. It started to rain.

You would think this annoying but it led me to discovering new straps on my pack – which made it much easier to carry. So yes, I was wet, but I was now much more comfortable. So all was well.

Twenty minutes later I clamored into the hostel, where I would sew up my ripping shorts (they're on their final legs, and this is not good for me. They're all I have really. Sure I have another pair, but not like this. These are my go-to shorts! I used a thimble too. I don't know how to use a thimble. It made it more difficult, but – you know – sometimes you just have to try new things.

After a battle with a WPA key, all was well. And now – now I have succeeded in finding myself here in this hostel, and all is well. The transition period is over.

1 comment:

  1. just commenting because im in my history class and so you know how i much i envy you right now, good class though



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