Yawn!

Yawn!



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.

Stockholm Wrap Up

Stockholm Wrap Up

Greatest Moments
The best part of my trip to Stockholm was very clearly walking around Djurgården. There's nothing like a really long walk to make you appreciate a place, and make you feel like you're living your life well. It's even more delightful when there are a number of unusual sights along the way, and you have no real idea when the trip is ever going to end.

“I could do without” Moments
There were not any real things I could have lived without. It was just – a city – no better or worse than any other. It had its charm, and that's that. It's not its fault that it's not the belle of the ball. Plus, it had a hard act to follow.

Things to Return For
Stockholm – would I return? Where would I return first, Helsinki or Stockholm? Honestly – probably neither. But I might like to come back to the area, and camp around the countries. The Stockholm Archipelago is apparently something not to be missed. So, perhaps, some day I will make my way out there.

What I'll Remember
Using the internet on a boat that has circumnavigated the oceans. And the fantastic Veggie Buffet.

Shout Outs
The Artist from the Hostel

Still in the Stocks

Well, here I am, still in the Stocks, for a final day. I'm told it's a beautiful city – and I may have said something to that effect yesterday – but let me tell you, when she's rainy, and overcast, and windy, and cold – she's a fierce old mistress.

I started out in shorts. By the time I had reached the end of the street I thought it was too late to go back for my butterfly outfit (these, of course, are my thermals. They are black. I may explain more of the name later... but not today.) This was a mistake. You see today was the first day when I thought, wow, it's a wee bit nippy. I was not cold, but I recognized that it was not warm. Me and cold have a special relationship.



I started off the day wandering through Old Town once more, strolling through all the spots that I missed the first time I was there. Then I jumped on the bus, and headed to a place called Herman's. Herman's is an all you can eat vegetarian restaurant that I was told by one of my friends I needed to explore. I've had enough Ethiopian and Indian food to understand that vegetarian restaurants don't have to be terrible – and I do so like the word buffet. Except when it says buffet, and you expect an all you can eat buffet, but no – it's just a “buffet style” and you are baffled, and then saddened.

This would be an all you can eat place. Success. Not one of those “eat all you can, make a me lich!” style joints. (Right now a ginger out in the real world is repeating that line, with the proper voice. Good for him.)

Now, I rolled up to this restaurant at 10:50. It opened at 11. I didn't feel right being the first person in, so I jumped on another blue bus, and rode it as far as it would go. I seemed to end up at a mall / hospital. I don't know? It was weird. I thought I'd just use the WC and leave.

Let me tell you why a washroom without urinals is a terrible idea. I stood in line for seven minutes – SEVEN – this may not seem long to women who need to use the washrooms after an opera ends – but for me? My goodness, that is a long time! All for the thirty seconds required. A mens washrooms without one urinal. I've never seen such a thing before. I bet there are eight in the womens, and some sneaky devil just put the signs on wrong. Or maybe here women where pants, and men wear dresses, and I was just confused!

But then it was back on the bus, and back to the restaurant, just before noon. The place was packed. But luckily it had three outdoor patios that descended down the hillside. They are prepared for guests in the hundreds – though I don't imagine the food would last.

The meal? 98K. It came with a soda too. Let me tell you what I saw? The most magical thing – an all you can eat vat of potato salad! Wait – that wasn't the good thing. I didn't even mean to type that. I saw the potato salad, and made sure to stay 100% away from it. None was touched by me, this meal! What I did enjoy was the all you can eat vat of tzatziki sauce. Now that was a delight to be sure.

There was also the freshest Greek salad you've ever had (with no lettuce to get in the way) and a Sheppard's pie with cheese so gooey, it was like the coating of a Ninja Turtles pizza. There was also curry which was... eh? Not so good. But everything else, great.

It was to the point where I would eat a plate, then read some of my book (embracing my inner Bill Bryson) then eat another plate, read some, and so on and so on, for over seventy minutes. I thought about staying the full three hours – but no, I had things to do, didn't I?

I did not.

After the meal, I took a final bus to the north part of town, bought some juice, and then headed back home. It was cold, it was rainy, and I was digesting more food than I had for the last three weeks combined. Three weeks. Has it been that long? Time is so relative. The school year would be getting into full swing by now.

Ha ha, I say. Ha ha.



And that was that. My day ended at four, but started much earlier than usual, thanks to my roommate who couldn't pack quietly – but we'll hear no more of him.

I checked out what to do in Copenhagen, and then settled in for a long quiet night of internetting.

Goodbye Stockholm, hello Copenhagen. Tomorrow will be my first experience, this trip, on the train as well. What fun. Country number seven, here I come.

Crinkle Crinkle

I swear to god – I will kill him. If I see him again, I will absolutely destroy him. This isn't me talking, really – no. It's the anger. It's the rage. It's the voice of a thousand and one little Ultimate Warriors all shouting in my head. It's his rage, and anger taken hold in me. “Bunkmate! When you fly to Toronto *fssssh!* you take the control stick, and drive it into the ground! *fssssh!* For you have already lost to the warriors!”

I mean, seriously – the phone call he took at six in the morning, that's fine. I'm cool with that. It was him waking up at eight, and then crumpling all his crap into a little plastic bag! You know how angry you are when someone tries to open a bag of chips in a theatre, or a lecture, or what have you? Well imagine that. Now imagine that this person is completely inept, and though you just want five minutes of quiet sleep, and you try to outlast him, he's on to you! He knows your game, and as you keep setting back your alarm, he keeps at it. Crnkle crinkle. Crinkle crinkle! This lasts for forty minutes. Forty! Minutes! I could have unpacked, and repacked my whole bag twice over in that time. But nope, there he goes – at it again, at it again.

What the hell is he doing?! Finally I wake up. I get up. I get dressed. He smiles, and leaves the room, never to be seen again. Or so he better hope. He better pray!

FORTY MINUTES! Crinkle crinkle crinkle! Crinkle crinkle crinkle! Gah!

Djurgården

Today started off rather dismal and overcast. So I thought, why not go visit some museums? I hear there's a great modern art museum not 100 meters from where I sleep at night. So that's where I started out. When I got to the door however, it was locked. You see – today is Monday. And since today is Monday, all of Stockholm is shut down. Well, not all of Stockholm – but public things such as museums and the like... They are no goes on Mondays, no matter how overcast – or how much it threatens to rain.

So what was I to do? Where was I to go? Well – for once, I could explore the island I was staying on. Like all things we see as “home”, cities – people – etc. I had accepted it as something that would offer much less than it had, or not be worth the trouble of exploring. You do this, because you assume it will remain consistent, always there. Think of your home city – have you ever given it the same amount of attention as you have one you've travelled to? I've often wished I could see Toronto through the eyes of a tourist – and perhaps one day I will.

As I started off I noticed a row of ships, and at the end of these ships was a ferry port. I had no idea that Stockholm even had a ferry system – but there it was, transporting people back and forth to an island, right at the gates of an old amusement park.

On the other side of the water, as I walked beside the gates of the – I can only assume haunted – amusement park, I could picture nothing but terror, and fright inside. That or the Joker setting up a secret head quarters with Harley Quinn. That could be there too. There is something very disconcerting about a shut down park like this, the posters peeling from the walls, and the rides stationary. A month ago I wouldn't have thought it the perfect setting for an H.P. Lovecraft tale – but right now? Now it was.

But I walked on. I took the bus as far as it could go, on this island of Djurgården, with the skies grey and dismal over head, and then decided to walk the rest of it. You see, this seemed like a great idea, because I'd not explored out here – however, the island wasn't on any of the maps. They all cut off where the bus dropped me off.



An hour and a half later, when I reached the end, I would look back on this moment of departure with a much more quizzical eye.

I headed off, on my walk and found myself on a most delightful trail that would lead past a number of unique houses, all unoccupied for the moment. There was also a building with a great sculpture garden in front of it, complete with yet another version of The Thinker. You know, I'm sure there must be a copy of this statue in just about every country. At least one. This garden, too, was unoccupied.

As I pressed on I came to a marina, filled with boats, but no people around. It was nice to wander such places alone – but... and then I saw the actual marina building, nothing more than burned wood, an exploded gas pump, and a restaurant, charred, with blown out windows. This, coupled with the creepy amusement park, combined with the lack of people was more than I could take. I thought to myself how much nicer it would be if only the clouds would pass, and the skies were to turn blue. Then this would – rather than being the prelude to my untimely death – become a delightful walk in the park.

And just like that the clouds disappeared and the skies became blue. That too was a little disconcerting – but it's hard to stay upset at blue skies. So onward I pressed, stopping for a moment here, and a moment there, to watch the swans play, and eat, and swim. Have you ever looked at the neck of a swan as it eats? It's quite incredible. Like the merging of a snake and a giraffe. But then they started to hiss at me, and I thought it best to maintain a healthier distance.



By the time I reached the hairy coos (or highland cattle as they might better be known) I had all but given up on trying to make sense of this magical abandoned island to the south east of the main city. I jst accepted them, took a seat on the bench, and watched them for a few moments, grazing over a pile of mud. A sign to my right depicted a beautiful pond, and all the birds that could be seen there. Clearly something had gone horribly wrong. But on this island of mysteries, who was I to judge anything?

There was also an electric fence. I was reminded through song that one should never “whiz on the electric fence.” And as such, perhaps my life was spared. Thank you childhood cartoons – thank you ever so much.

At long last I reached the end of the island, greeted by five herons, standing just off shore in the water. Once more I was reminded of Canada.

I had found a map of the island by the bird-pond now cow-patch, and it showed me that I had five kilometers to go before I was back again. Following its topographical details up and down hills, I made my way to the two points of interest that were marked on my original bus map (finally returning to known land, away from the “here there be dragons” mark) and the first one was... a cup. A great big cup. Right – very well then. What about the next? Ahh – a theme village where people talk as if it were yesteryear, and the price of admission is 90K. Very well, passing on. Back on the bus, four hours later, and off to Old Town.

This was a walk that proved the adage “It's the journey, and not the destination.” Though both destinations were lackluster,the walk itself proved to point out that “one thing” each city has – the thing that makes it special, distinct, worth visiting. To me the beautiful, and obviously haunted, island of Djurgården was worth every unknown step onward.

Old Town Stockholm had its moments too – but for me they were both when I found a couple of geek shops.

Goth Loli's seem to congregate in this city, and I've often wondered where they all head from, or head to. Apparently, when I saw a sign of a dragon fighting a spaceship, I had discovered their secret asylum. This was a geekshop like few others. Clean, orderly, the type of place your grandmother wouldn't feel out of place shopping for a birthday gift if the occasion called for it. The second however – it was much more the door in an alley leading to a dank room, under lit, and full of yellowing boxes. The type your grandmother would set alight, and dance in the arson fueled flames of. Provided your grandmother was predisposed to such acts.

But there, I was all sorts of spiderman stories, told in the wonderful language of Swedish. And they also had Calvin and Hobbes monthly comic books – collecting a few weeks of strips, rather than the treasuries we received back in North America. If this were a one week holiday, I would have bought them without thinking. But where would I keep them? How could I protect them from being ruined? Souvenirs are a tricky thing on long journeys.

Exiting the shop, I fond myself face to face with - - - a grocery store! I couldn't believe one was here in old town, when I was told the closest was way up away from where I was staying. Inside I bought a delightful litter box of ice cream. 50 centiliters. And it was all for the low cost of 14K – much more ice cream than I'd get in those 40K cones on the street. I knew that buying a bunch of spoons to keep on me, back in Helsinki, would pay off. But never had I dreamed they would do so in such a delicious way! Ahh Strawberry ripple.

Infused with suger-energy a smile crossed my face that I had not remembered to show for some time. And off I went skipping through old town, until I ran into a group of people, all with their cameras out. What were they doing? What were they shooting? What could possibly – oh look! A seal! A real, live, seal! How incredible!

The next twenty minutes were spent getting facepalm videos and pictures. The following ten were spent simply watching it, and being amazed by animal life. Animals that might be so common in one part of the world, are fascinating for those from others. I'll not make fun of the people taking pictures of chipmunks (“You can never have too many pictures of wild life”) again.

Back at the hostel, I was told to eat up, enjoying a great big bowl of pasta cooked by one of the other people staying here, who I had met yesterday. He's an artist from Seattle, and has been travelling Scandinavia as well. He arrived in Stockholm on the ferry from Helsinki. If I had known about such a thing, I would have most likely came that way as well.

For the first time since I had started out, I was truly full. Not full in that painful way of a giant whale burger, but full in the delightful – meat, veggies, and pasta, way. Herregud!

On another simple turn of events, my German roommate happens to work for a company that is based out of Markham Ontario – what's up with that?! Truly it is a small world... after... all. (I'm sorry.)

Seal Facepalm

Ahh the face palm - or facepalm as the internet might know it as. Not just for captains of the U.S.S. Enterprise anymore.

A Day of Exploration

They say that Stockholm is a good city to see on foot. That's what they say, is it? Well let me tell you, I'm sure it's lovely to see on foot when there's actually something to see! I took the bus down south to explore one of the larger islands located there. I planted myself on the number two blue bus and went for a ride.

Stockholm has two colours of buses. The red, which is a normal everyday bus, and the blue ones. Bus numbers 1 – 4 run circuts of all the major attractions, and places that visitors might enjoy seeing. It's quite a fantastic idea. I'm sure it's giving those sightseeing hop on hop off buses quite a rile. Anyway, there I went to the end of the number 2's line, and got off to explore the lovely little park that was said to be there.

There was no park. Well – that's not true. There was a patch of green grass (and the green grass grew all around, all around, and the green grass grew all around.) And in the centre? A road was cutting through it. Great. Lovely. What a nice place to play and enjoy the sun. So that was the end of that. But this was a large island. I'd say about 20% or more (upon further inspection) of Stockholm's land mass. Surely something must be here. So I took to walking west, all the way to the islands centre square.

And what did I find at the centre square? Seating for hundreds – an open area for many to come together, hang out, enjoy. Of course there were only fifteen people there. And a peculiar statue. But in the middle of this square I saw an escalator. Being one who enjoys such exploring of oddities I took it.

At the bottom of these mobile steps was – can you guess? A grocery store. Yes a grocery store. In the middle of town. In all fairness, I did take a peek around, and I came across a most unusual cereal I'd never seen before.

Let's play a game called “is this racist.” Here's how it works, I tell you the name of something, and you say if it's racist or not. Let us start by signs I saw on garbage bins earlier – one said “coloured glass”, the other read “no coloured glass.” Is that racist? Sure you will probably be quick to answer one way or the other. Maybe I'm just taking things out of context. Well, surely I am. In fact over here in Scandinavia they probably don't associate the same terms. Speaking of which:

Choco Spooks. Choco Spooks cereal. Is this racist? Is this available in North America? Surely someone must have seen this and thought, “perhaps we can think of another names? Chocolate ghosts, maybe?” If nothing else, it will let me prove to one reader out there that when I was talking about Spook Houses, that really was a common name for a haunted house, and not some terrible slur on my part.

Choco Spooks cereal. Really?

I headed all the way to the west of this island, and still there was nothing. So I hopped on another bus, and rode to the extreme west of Stockholm. I think this was the number 1 bus, but I can't be sure. There I realized there was nothing, so I waited on the bus for it to head back. I was told I had to get off and wait at the bus stop. Two minutes later I re-boarded the same bus. Oh Stockholm, what a bunch of kidders you guys are.

Now, when I was busing out, I saw a park where people seemed to be enjoying their day. I couldn't believe it, because by this point I had accepted that Stockholm, aside from the city centre, was out to make everyone believe there was something more – when in fact there was not. Still, I jumped off the bus early and tried to find it. It was an interesting excursion, in that it led me past a gated cave covered in graffiti, which to me means “please, come explore,” but there was no quick way past the lock – and breaking laws in foreign countries is one of the big no-nos of travel. Another is to avoid all political protests, but we'll get to that.

Eventually the path I was on, once past the Scooby Doo cave, came out to a little beach. Which was quaint. I stayed there for twenty or thirty minutes, reading some more of Sophie's World, before I realized that there were no WCs anywhere around.

Well that wasn't true. In the beaches change rooms, they existed. But they were, of course, locked. Why not, right? So off I went – walking past tugboats from the 1800s and other such things moored up at the dock. Eventually – about an hour later – I found a gas station. Their washroom said, customers only, but I can't read Swedish, so in I went anyway.

And then the day became a bit brighter. Everything is a little more wonderful when you're not contemplating every bush you pass.

Oh look – there's a pay WC, only 5K (0.85CAD) no thanks sir! No thanks.

I ended up at the Town Hall – which was built during World War I, when everyone was starving, and there was nothing for the common people. Of course, it is built with no small amount of gold. Apparently this upset people. I wonder why?

To say my day ended there would be a lie – to be sure, I went far out east, and finding nothing (but too late in the day to be angsty about it) headed back. I also bought more potato salad. This one is covered in a lovely dill sauce. I can't believe that A.) I still like potato salad, and B.) I don't have some sort of protein deficiency.

Back in the hostel I met a man who told me about a naked island in Helsinki. I did not see this island, and can not believe it exists – still – he said it did, and who am I to argue? Few are aware of the nude beach in Toronto... so -

I am sick, by the way. Scratchy throat, head cold. Fun! But it's going to rain tomorrow, they say, so – lazy Monday? Maybe there's a mall.

Oh – one final thought. Why do people say some worlds in foreign languages, but others? You know what I mean – and if you don't you're about to realize that you did all along. In Scotland, no one sees lakes, they see lochs. They don't see valleys they see valleys, they see glens. And here in Stockholm no one sees a river – only fjords (i know there's more to a fjord than this, but stick with me.) Seriously, it's not like earlier I was looking for the badrum. I just wanted a bathroom!

Well that's just one more thing for my growing pile of questions, and slight bother. Enjoy.

Oh yes – that political protest. Well, you see, it was mostly all over by the time I got there. They were breaking down their noose into convenient carry-on sized pieces but the flags were still waving. Police tape circled an area below full of garbage, and sign posts. And police themselves? At least four on horses, twenty to thirty on foot, and six cars. I have no idea what was going on there, but it was big. Something unique went down. Something to do with Free Iran.

Apparently they do this kind of thing a lot. Once, a few months back, the police declaired it a terrorist attack. It's true – check Google. So it's probably for the best that I was not around – and not involved. Still, I should have cleared away faster. As I walked up the street, trying to pass a road block of police, I was told that foot traffic was only allowed on way. I'd have to walk around the block. This was odd – but it's what everyone was doing. These Swede's are an interesting lot.

I guess they controlled my ability to get from point a to point b, without hitting point c – but really – what was the point of it all?

They'll have their fun, they will – that lot.

Day Two, Stockholm: In Video

Exploring the South



Exploring the West



It Got Better

1809 Russia vs. Sweden Recreation

During this battle, Sweden lost control of Finland to Russia. Why they would celebrate this is beyond me. Any information that you have can be added to the comments below.

Sweden's Changing of the Guard at Stockholm Royal Palace

I understand that this song probably goes back to before The Superman Movie - so if anyone knows anything about it, please feel free to add the information in the comments. As of right now though, I shall think of this as the Sweden military playing the Superman theme. Christopher Reeves - loved by all.

Laundry Day, See You There...

To the royal palace – that's what I said, this morning, as I hopped on the bus (which I would only ride for all of three minutes – I need to get some use out of the pass.) And there, I waited for one moment, two moments – alright, an hour. And why? Why would I wait for an hour at the royal palace, aside from saying that I was outside the home of the crowed king of Sweden? Why to see the changing of the guards of course.

I'm willing to go out on a limb and say that in Oslo I did not see the changing of the guards, merely one guard replacing another. For here, in Sweden, I watched the entire thirty minute presentation full of song, and music, and automatic weaponry. Ahh the modern royalty.

I watched as the guards marched out, did the Cartman shuffle, and then backed away – allowing for the parade of musicians to come through.

There were a number of songs played, many of which I did not know. However, at one point it became very obvious that the theme from Superman, the movie, could not possibly be an original score. I just can not believe that the entire Swedish military is that big of a Christopher Reeves fan. Still – hearing them play the tune was quite spectacular.

I created a video of it. I created many videos of this event, in fact – so many that I managed to fill my first memory card. I'll post those files in a follow up entry, because trying to find space to fit them all in here would just be disastrous.

After the tattoo was finished the military musicians left the square, hopped on their tour bus (I'm not kidding about this) and went who knows where.

What a charming little country.



From the future to the past...
So I jump on the bus, yeah – the 69K or some such thing, and start heading towards some giant radio tower. I'm not really sure what it is, but it was marked on the map as a point of interest, and would be a legitiment use of my bus pass, so who would I be to argue with a stop like that? Now, when I'm almost there, what do I see out the window, but a bunch of bivouacs. There they are, all lines up, and crowds of people sitting on a hill. Clearly, this would require some investigation.

Investigate I did, and do you know what I found out there? People shooting canons, and guns, and mortars (all blanks of course) dressed up as soldiers from two hundred years in the past. I wandered my way past cooking tents, and military regiments – navigated through rest areas for weary troops, and maneuvered around horses that seemed quite a bit too close for comfort. Made worse by the fact that every canon fired spooked them out of control of their rider.

It turned out that I had discovered the recreation of a battle that took place two hundred years ago between the Russians and the Swedes. During this battle, Sweden lost control of Finland to Russia. Imagine that, and entire country lost in a battle.

I'm not quite sure the history, nor why they're celebrating such a loss, as the loud speak narrating the even was – of course – not in English.

Still, taking a seat on the hill, it was quite the sight to see.

Videos, of course, were taken. They too will be in a separate follow up post. YouTube has become my best of friends. (Lights just flickered on then off in the boat – that's not disconcerting at all.)

To the Train, Then.
Once more into the breach. I decided that I would make a final journey for the day before packing in. I would head to the train station to buy my ticket to Copenhagen, Denmark. On the way I discovered a grocery store (not fifty meters from where I was asking people to point me to one yesterday night.) Much juice was purchased. Why can Canada not sell Pear juice as they do over here? I also bought some that was labeled multivitamin juice. Can't hurt, can it?

At the train station I was helped by a lovely lady who got me booked, set, and ready to go. I'll be leaving here on the 23 at eleven in the morning, arriving in Denmark just after four. There's nothing like getting to a new city while the sun is still up. It makes all the difference to my over anxious self. I think I'm getting quite used to this travel thing.

Underthings... Tumbling.
35K for laundry. That's about six dollars. Not too bad for a wash and dry. So I paid my fee, got my soap and token, and off I went to wash some clothes.

Because I intended to get the most use out of said wash, I had to change into what I will now consider my “Laundry outfit.” It is a bright blue bathing suit, and long sleeve shirt. Both of these things I will hardly need to wear, and as such they will make great cover whilst the rest of my things become delightful and non-grossified.

Of course it does mean I'll look ridiculous. But what else is new?

Other Thoughts
So I'm sitting on a boat, using the internet, in Scandinavia. None of this seems strange to me. If you asked me a year ago if I thought I'd be doing this, I would say no. In fact a year ago, I couldn't have even conceived of doing something like this.

And now here I am, just starting off, and it all seems perfectly normal for me – perfectly fine and dandy. And why? Because my buddy showed me an episode of Departures, and I had to see if it was possible to do it too? Sure – that's part of it. But even three weeks ago I couldn't have thought I'd be doing this.

All the way until my departure date I figured something would happen to prevent me. A slightly terrified part of me was hoping for that. But that's why I had to tell people about this trip right when I first started planning it – because then I wouldn't back out.

Still, three weeks ago, I never would have thought how different things would be.

And here I am, gone a year – I wonder what things will be like when I finally make my way back home, all those months from now.

Just thinking, is all.

So... I'm in Stockholm

What a day, what a day, what a day.

Today was a day of nothing, and then something, and then planning (which is, inherently, nothing.) Something smells like a wet dog. And I'm pretty sure it's not me. I'm not 100% sure, but I'm pretty sure.

I woke up, stuffed my face, and headed out to the bus. Which was late. But then it was there – and so I jumped on, and headed down to the real bus terminal for my bus to Stockholm. No trains for this guy, not when a bus is half the price. What could possibly go wrong right? It's a nice bus – maybe there will even be movies, like on the greyhound. There were no movies, like on the greyhound. But at least there was a washroom. No one pees standing up in a bus washroom. It makes equals of us all.

O.K. well some people pee standing up – but they learn soon enough. It's like the age old adage of peeing into the wind. Some things you just need to learn the repercussions of all on your own. And in this case they're quite similar.

So on the bus I march, but we're not leaving. Why are we not leaving? Because two Asian travellers printed out a ticket confirmation, but did not get real tickets. The drive would, as such, not let them on. But he would wait ten minutes for them to figure themselves out. I'm not going to lie, it was tooth and nail at the end, and I was more than delighted that they made it back in time. It would have been a real down, otherwise.

So then the eight hour bus trip began. Norway, which blurred into Sweden at some point (unnoticed by me, and unannounced by the driver) is a lot like Northern Canada. Birch trees, lakes, rivers, valleys, forests. It's fantastic. It would have been nice to come across these familiar sites later on in my travels, but it's nice to be reminded of the better parts of home, nevertheless.

I wish I could say more about the journey, but I can't really. I was awake, and then asleep, and then awake, and then asleep. At one point I had to turn my head away from the person next to me, as I awoke. I realized, far too late, that for the last half an hour, my mouth had been open, with little bits of spittle forming on my lower lip, possibly running down along my beard. My head was angled at such a degree that it must have looked like a zombie mid attack, and as I awoke with a great intake of air, it created quite the distressing scene. Without saying a word, my seat partner began to look vehemently for another seat. There were none. She was stuck. I then fell asleep again. This process would be repeated several times over the next few hours. At no time were seats available for her to make her escape.

And then I was in Stockholm. And the bank machine wouldn't give me money. Which was great. You know, I loved it. It gave money to other people – just not me. It claimed there was a problem with the machine, but I don't buy that for a moment. So, there I was, without money in a new city. So what did I do? I bought a bus pass. A seven day pass. I'd use it for six days here, so that would make sense, yeah?

Well – Stockholm is a very small city. And at no time should one do anything but walk. I am going to have to become very creative to figure out how to be lazy enough to warrant this purchase. And warrant it I will!

After taking the bus to my hostel, because I have no need for a ten minute walk, not with my bus pass – in a free handy red flip folder pouch thing (that you might keep a birth certificate or something like that, in,) - I checked in. Once again, I was given the hostel discount without having my card. Which is, in theory, stolen. I paid for my membership, and all that – but the card is gone. But I have a copy. And this is doing me just as well, thus far.

So there I am, standing at this hostel, and I realize there's no free internet here. What am I to do?! My roommate is a Japanese guy who was pretty nifty, but he's leaving tomorrow – so, I'll leave him be. So I march down to the reception, is what I do, and I say “Where's the bank? And do you have a washing machine here?” Smelling me, he says something along the lines of, if they didn't, they'd order one in. It comes out sounding more like “Yes, it's 35K” though. And then he marks the location of a bank on my map.

Out into the world I go.

Stockholm is one dark city. Very pretty at night, don't get me wrong, but very dark. There are so few streetlights, that I feel I'm stuck in a copy of Gotham by Gaslight, or Jack the Ripper London. Until I reach the main town, then the adverts create more than enough illumination, you see. So there I am at the bank. It doesn't work either. Great. I love it.

Off to the grocery store. I fail here – and find a convenience store offering me pear juice. I love pear juice. Why they have it everywhere here in Scandinavia, and nowhere in North America is beyond me. So, having already got used to the terrible prices in Oslo, I hand over my 19K and drink my delicious drink.

Then I go to McDonalds, and enjoys two 10K cheeseburgers (look – it was late, and I don't know where the grocery store is. Forgive me.

Here's the thing though. A cheeseburger is 10K. And that's fine. I can dig a two dollar cheese burger, but what I don't understand is the eight dollar Big Mac. Never mind that that's too much for a Big Mac anywhere, but it's also the price of four cheeseburgers. Who would say “please, give me one big mac” when they could have four cheeseburgers?! That does NOT make sense.

I imagine many cheeseburgers in my future.

Thank you everywhere for accepting my credit card.

On the way home I found a new bank. This one worked. All is right and well in the world.

So – you may be asking yourself, self – if he couldn't get free internet access, how is he posting this? Well – once more I asked at the reception, and they said that there was wifi on the boat. Bear with me for a moment here. On the boat – outside the hostel – is a magical place. You see, it's actually part of the hostel, and had I known better and had more money to spend, I would be staying on it. Sleeping on it. Rocking with it.

It's a real boat! You'll see. You'll see a picture and then think “my god, that really is a real boat.” Wait for it.

Do you see? I wonder if it could up anchor and sail away, if need be? So this is where I will be spending time writing, and reading, and researching, and what not. It's a wonderful place and also has a common room. Full of Germans. Every hostel common room around the whole world is full of Germans. And this is not a problem – except that they're all kids again, on a school trip. Someone explain German school to me – how are they all travelling the world with their teacher? Is it a full year school system?

Anyway – that's all from me right now. I have been buffering an episode of Dr. Who as I write this (I'll stop mentioning that show from here on out) and it's finally ready. The download speed here? Not speedy enough.