Settling into Scandinavia

I would like to jump ahead in my story to the present.  As I write this, I am looking over The Oslo Fjord. Oslo, Norway boasts hills and forests that surround its island freckled fjord pristinely.  I've seen ten countries and eleven cities up to this point.  Having always visited cities, i'm presented with an opportunity to get out of concrete and onto some dirt.  Oslo has less than 600,000 people so by far it's the smallest city i'll visit. I won't roam the city as I have been in others, there's far too many islands and forest trails up hills I would rather see. I'm not from a city.  European habitations have been a unique exposure compared to my rearing.  I'm in a country with enough forests around that I could loosely compare (not by any means saying Missouri and Norway are comparable) it with home.   

Allow me to back up a bit. 

Coming from Amsterdam on train I was able to see one more city in Germany. I was going to Copenhagen, requiring a pass through northern Germany.  I switched trains in Hamburg (the origin of the word Hamburger) and was able to see little of the large city.  I have seen more of Germany than any other country in Europe. I didn't know it then, but going to Copenhagen by train is difficult. Copenhagen, Denmark is on an island nearby Jutland, The North Sea, Sweden, and The Baltic Sea.  I didn't think to ask the question, "how does a train go to an island?"  The answer was simple. There isn't a bridge, and trains don't float, but if you put the train on a boat, the boat can float. While on the train, the conductor came over the loud speaker and spoke instructions in Danish followed by German. Naturally, I didn't understand.  But I had made friends with a German girl who sat next to me.  I was asked her what the conductor had said. She told me, "In ten minutes we have to get off the train." I asked, "Why's that?"  I had already experienced broken-down trains in Austria - a story I will get to later - and this bit of information given by the conductor had echoes of the past.  She said, "we are getting on boat."  I asked her if we had to switch from the train, to a ferry, then back to a different train once on the island. She told me the train was getting on a boat, and we had to get off the train until the ferry reached land again. 

To my amazement they drove a full sized train, plus others like busses and semi-trucks, onto a ferry for transport over the sea.  It was very much a first for me.  It was also my first time to see the Baltic. Instead of visiting the restuarants selling $15 hot dogs on board, I chose to stay on the top deck watching the sea.  When we reached the island that seats Copenhagan, us train passengers re-boarded and were back on track, literally. I don't know how they did it, but the train pulled off of the boat and on to the rails without any flaw.  It didn't matter the technicalities because we were off toward my first Scandinavian country and city.

Considering all the European cities I've seen thus far, I could live in Copenhagen. The people are nice, everyone speaks English, architecture is a beautiful mix of Nordic and contemporary styles, and Denmark is a very progressive county. The government stresses the importance of organic food and maintains adequate cycling paths throughout Copenhagen. There are vast numbers of Danes on bikes. 

During my second night in Copenhagen I had the priviledge of meeting a Danish Navel Officer named Layla. She and her friend (I can't seem to remember her name) decided to show me a sailor's bar where old Danish sailors and hookers used to frequent for hundreds of years until being hastened by city restrictions. Now there are maybe two bars left in basements of old story-rich buildings.  If only the walls could have talked, I think they'd have endless stories. It wasn't a wild place. Not counting our motly group of two Danish sailors, an American backpacker, and some Kiwis (people from New Zealand), there was only the lady bartender.  After having our fill of traditional Danish Snaps, we walked to a disco. Discos are nightclubs, and I promise you I haven't heard any Bee Gees being played, yet.

Layla was a most extraordinary person, she could kick my ass on one foot if she felt the need. It is meeting people like her that I've deemed my trip worthy of taking time away from home. Sure I like the sites, but how exciting it is to meet such new and different people from all over the world. 

My Eurorail train pass is in cahoots with a cruise liner named DFDS. This means I was able to travel on a large ship from Copenhagen to my current location at a very reasonable price. I'm almost completely sure I was the only American on that ship. Maybe not, but I didn't meet or hear any of that familar American accent. Mostly it was Scandinavian folk hailing from Denmark or Norway. Norwegian's are especially fun people. On board, I grouped with an Iranian living in Norway; a very pretty middle-aged Norwegian lady; an eccentric Dutchman; and about four Norwegian teenagers all sharing stories while  sitting on the top deck. We spoke in English the entire time. I noticed how difficult and amusing it can be to have non-native English speakers conversing with eachother.  I was often enthralled with laughter, as were the whole group, in misinterpretations and language misgivings. Later in the night we visited the disco on board the ship and jiggled our bodies while the ship cruised the sea.  I said my goodbyes early and retreated to my room. On numerous occasions I was told to get up at seven just as the ship entered the Oslo fjord. To give you an idea of how long this fjord is, we didn't reach the city Oslo until 9:30.

I can't describe how clean the air is up here or how pristine the flora and landscape seem to be. The Polish graduate student was right about the natural richness of Norway.  I'm staying here for five days. Partly because I couldn't get a train ticket to Stockholm until Monday, but I am not complaining. As soon as I left the ship I snapped a few pictures and deposited my bag into a locker. I needed coffee, food, and a map to start me off in Norway. Unfavorably, I stumbled into a mall. I knew malls would have what I needed at this point, leading me into the building. The mall I saw had about eight stories of stores and nearly every one of them had signs saying: "Sagst!!! -70%."

I found a map, ate a bagel, and was getting coffee when the very blonde Norwegian barista asked me, "You're visiting Norway?"

"Yes," I said. 

She appropriately replied: "What are you doing in the mall, much less in the middle of the city?  Go, get out and see trails. Take a water taxi to an island. Don't be here."

I didn't explain my need for maps, bagels, and coffee.  I, after all, had just recently gotten off the boat in this new place.  I still thanked her for the advice and downed my machiatto.
 
Like a frenzied elephant that just escaped a zoo, I was off to find whatever it was the barista alluded to at the Oslo mall. I don't know how these things happen, but I stumbled onto an old Viking ruin during my walk.  I've had much luck in finding the most interesting sites while in Europe just by aimlessly walking around its cities.  As I stood taking pictures, I thought of these Vikings who I have only read about in books.  Now I was standing in a structure the very same people touched, dwelled, and lived life in bringing me stories of Valhalla, Old Norse Sagas, and the amazing feat of long distance sea travel during such an early point of history.

As I looked nearby, I noticed a trail entrance resembling those in Roaring River Park back home. I jumped on the idea, I didn't care if I walked two miles or seven miles, I've been walking for the entire last month.  I climbed the hillside forest adjacent to Oslo and stayed in the trails for six hours. It was here I met and walked with a very nice lady for nearly two and a half hours. She told me she remembered the Second World War vividly, so I'm guessing her age to be over seventy; though, she did not resemble this age range.  We walked up and down hills through the woods at a pace that made me sweat in the cool air of the seaside forest. She told me amazing stories of protesting the nuclear bomb outside the US embassy during her apparent hippie years.  She said that they all had symbols painted on their backs during the rally. When I asked which symbol it was, she used a stick to draw the peace sign into the dirt of the trail. "I know that sign," I said. 

We walked by a lovely little kindergarten seated on top of the hill looking over the fjord. There she invited me to walk more with her and mentioned a cafe only a couple miles away.  I eagerly accepted the invitation. On the way, she announced to me that she had been a doctor and was now retired. I had the priviledge of hearing one of the most inspiring stories about a doctor she once knew.  

The man was from India and grew up very poor in a large family. He had had dreams of going to school, so he convinced his family he wanted to study in Norway.  Having only a basic education from childhood, the family scratched some money together and bought him a bike. Apparently, as she said, he rode this bike from India to Norway sometime in the 1970's not having any money in his pocket. He still insisted on going to school when he arrived from across the Eurasian continent. Picking up little jobs wherever would hire him, he would send money back home to his family.  Finally, not having much, he approached the prestigious University of Oslo and announced to the admissions that he desired to study there. At first they turned him down for not being able to pay tuition, but when a professor took notice of this man, he humbly allowed the aspiring student to take his class and see how he would do. The Indian ended up passing with a near perfect grade.  This gave the professor confidence enough to sign for grants and scholarships the student needed for his tuition. As sure as I am the old lady wasn't lying to me, he graduated top of his class in medical school years later. He moved his family to Norway, and still has his practice there to this day. 

The cafe promised to me overlooked the Oslo fjord where I had began to write this blog.  No ships, no buildings, just islands, water, and greenery. The nice old lady bought me a Norwegian waffle and we ate in silence overlooking the fjord. Our conversation had run dry, and as soon as her waffle was gone she announced it was her grandaughter's birthday and that she had to be going. I thanked her for the company and squeezed in one last question:

"Can you really eat whale here?"

"Why yes," she said. "I had whale two nights ago."  She gave me directions to get back into the city and then was gone.  I never got her name, but her last words to me were, "enjoy your life."     

The Train, and Prague.

Poland was behind me in my trip covering eleven more countries, but my next stop was not out of the Slavic speaking world.  It was untroubling for me to infer bits of German on street signs or in conversation and indispensably convenient to be able to remember my hostel's street name.  My language comfort bubble was to be busted with Polish and Czech.  Slavic languages are very different from our German-Romantic stew we call English.  Tell me a German word to remember, and I got it. Ask me what Polish street our hostel was on, and we'd probably never find the place again.  

Luckily with Natalie and Dove I was able to learn polite Polish phrases of gratitude and salutations.  But if you throw into the mixture a different dialect of Slavic languages, i.e. Czech, then words get mixed and people you deal with get frustrated.  Sadly, I resorted to hand gestures and short whistles of contentment in order to express that which I felt appropriate.  This speaking with the hands ended up getting back at me later. 

My next destination was to be Prague in The Czech Republic. The land of Bohemia in the core of central Europe. Prague spreads itself around the shores of the Vlatava river and has been a settlemet for people - Celts originally - since 200 BC. [Sidenote: I wouldn't swim in either the Vlatava in Prague nor the river Vistula connecting Warsaw and Cracow.]  Praha (Prague) was spared during those dreadfully disasterous wars in the twentieth century helping the city maintain its alluring attractiveness palpable in every corner of the city. Well, in the daytime. Day Prague and night Prague are as different as the words day and night themselves. 

My train to Prague bunked six people in one little room with three beds stacked like cabinet shelves on either side.  In admiration of thc ride I did meet these very nice Finnish girls in those close quarters. A Brit and I got the Finns to speak and teach us some Of their language. Finnish is completely different from the Germanic and Slavic languages.  It's not even Indo-European in class or structure which puts it out of my comprehension.  Finnish is full of the most interesting sounds any one person could ever make with their mouth.  

All six of us, two Australians, two Finns, a Brit, and myself sweated and talked half the night about what it's like back home.  To my own fortune I was on the bottom of the bunks. A perfect location for my head in direct way of falling backpacks and top bunked travelers getting down to use the bathroom.  

We made it to Prague with no problems. The train did its duty transporting us and for that I am grateful. Once again, a big city in the center of Europe also means, "spray grafetti everywhere, please." This I noticed first about the city Prague.  By this time in my trip I have a routine I follow for all new cities: find a map and figure out the public transport.  Once that's figured out the whole of the city is more accessible.  Prague has a wonderful and cheap (though sometimes I didn't pay) metro system taking you anywhere in admirable time. First off the train and saying goodbye to those Finns I set to grab cash. It was the third currency for me in ten days; my wallet was very colerful at this point.  I hadn't showered since the morning before and had slept all night sweating in my clothes.  Then to my dismay the hotel said check-in was six hours later.  No problem, I brushed my teeth and picked flowers from the hotel to put under my arms.  

The flower thing is a fabrication, no flowers found themselves in my pits.  And I should point out I didn't book a hostel like I thought I had done. The website lied, I thought it was a hostel.  Hotels are a little more lonely than hostels when you're by yourself.

It was time to walk around Prague all but showered. The hotel was far from the center and I figured more sweat on me wouldn't hurt.  I footed the journey to see what the central Bohemian city had to offer.  Having my map I strolled along the streets. I was going to see the infamous Prague Castle with the St. Vitus Cathedral in its center. Prague Castle is the largest in the world set on a hill by the banks of the Vltava. As soon as you see it, you breath leaves you behind. It is absolutely massive and surrounded by uniformed terra-cotta red roofs the city buildings seem to share. There is much uniformity with the city Prague and coming from my view of American cities I instantly appreciated the depth of consistancy this city held. Not monotonous by any standard but unique in the sheer scale of the city. Sometimes Prague is called, "City of a hundred spires," rather appropriatly named too. The view from Prague Castle on top of the hill shows spire after spire from church steeples to baroque buildings filling the city of Prague in a skydiver's nightmare. Spires or steeples - whichever the proper term - to me look very sharp and jagged spears.  They're still interesting to look at, nonetheless. 

Connecting the Staré Město (Old Town) to Prague Castle is a very old footbridge known as Charles Bridge.  I crossed it many times.  Europe's oldest synagogue aptly named "The New Old Synagogue" is there which i visited.  Franze Kafka lived in Prague. His house is now a museum.  There is also a very nice statue of him in the Jewish Quarter. In the Staré Město is a very interesting astronomical clock I can't describe because I don't know how it works. It is complicated with the zodiac signs and arabic numbers circling the three intertwined clocks.  It does have an interesting story. The man who designed it in the 14th or 15th century was a very skilled clockmaker.  The Bohemians of Prague liked their new clock so much they gouged his eyes out so he could not make another, that's gratitude for ya'.

I was burned a few times on overpriced low-quality meals. I swore off resturaunts for a time. My friend Steve once told me the best food in Prague is the fast food vendors on the street. It is true; however, these aren't like McDonald's.  I would compare them to food stands at your local carnival.  I was loving the bratwurst smeared with saurkraut and onion every chance I got, and for a good price too. Furthermore, they remained open until very late for those who stay up to see the wee hours of morning. 

As I mentioned, you have day Prague, and you have night Prague. Day Prague is filled with tourists and their families strolling from site to site getting gouged by those awful restuarants and sham tour groups. Night Prague is filled with hookers, drug dealers, sex show peddlers, drunken loud englishmem, pub crawlers in mass numbers, local drunks,  and your average modest Asian tourist looking very intrigued by the surrounding Gomorrah.  Typically I stayed away from the streets at night. I did go to Prague's largest night club, The Karlovy Lazne, to dance and socialize one night.  It was great fun and awkward at the same time to dance with non-english-speaking women.  I just kept my mouth shut and jiggled my rear, everyone understands dancing. 

Everyone.