The Night Train
I took the night train to Oslo that night. At first, I was very happy. I got on the train and found a car with a lot of gorgeous Scandinavian men in it. Two of the men sat drinking out of a large bottle of liquor. They were were actually quite handsome and rather entertaining in their drunken giggles.
Another man who sat behind was absolutely gorgeous. He was the typical Scandinavian stud with shockingly blond, short and spiky hair, eyes the color of the Atlantic and an expensive black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders. He was the kind of guy you look at and think, “He has to be a jerk. No way could a guy be that good looking and be nice.” But when he smiled at me, I got all goosebumpy just the same.
I sat down and all three men began talking to me right away. I thought I was in heaven. Then, an older man came over and asked, “Do you have that seat?” It turned out that he had the seat reserved. So, I got up to move. The breathtakingly beautiful man behind me told me that the seat next to him was free and that I could sit there. My heart pounded and I felt my face grow flush like a teenybopper with a crush.
I was about to sit down when I sighed as reality set in and said, “Well, chances are, I must have a seat reserved somewhere. I just didn’t realize it.” So, he looked at my ticket and told me that my seat was about two cars back. He apologized and helped me gather my things. I hated him for being such a gentleman. I trudged two cars back and opened the door nearly falling over from the stench of urine. My seat was very uncomfortable and I hardly slept at all that night.
I arrived in Oslo, Norway tired, cranky, sore and dying to get some fresh air. I hoped to see the beautiful man. I thought that perhaps I would be lucky and to find him looking for me. However, he was nowhere in sight. I threw my heavy pack onto my shoulders wincing as the straps seemed to intensify every aching tired muscle in me.
I stepped onto the street hoping to find a coffee shop, but everything was completely silent. It was only 7am and everything was still closed. All I wanted to do was sleep but I couldn’t even check into my hostel until 3pm. I finally found an open coffee shop and ordered a cappuccino only to realize that I hadn’t exchanged my currency yet. It seems that when you’re really tired, nothing seems to work out quite right.
I dropped off my things at the hostel though and tried to keep myself busy throughout the day. I sat at the harbor at lunchtime and bought some freshly steamed shrimp right off the boat and threw the scraps to the seagulls. I scolded the old fat seagulls when they attacked the immature seagulls that needed the food. They apparently didn’t understand English though. Damn Viking seagulls. My body and mind began to relax. I was even blessed with the sight of a four-man racing shell gliding by in front of me, reminding me of my passion for rowing.
Polite Vikings…
I spent the evening in Oslo holed up in the hostel, reading the tales written by previous travelers and reading everything I could find about Norway. I had originally planned to travel all over Scandinavia. However, after looking at my plans a few more times, I set a goal for myself. Last summer, I had been nearly 12 miles south of the Arctic Circle when I was in Fairbanks. But, I hadn’t quite gotten that far north. This time, I decided that I had to get there. Why? I have no idea. It didn’t really accomplish anything. But, I think that it seems cool to know that I’ve been to the “Arctic”.
So, first I went to Trondheim for one night. I met another young man who poured his heart out to me and told me all his fears about life and so on. We played pool all night at a local pub after scarfing down some “cheap” beers at the hostel. Some very drunk Norwegian guys started hassling us while we played pool. The guy I was with didn’t really mind so much. It really started to get to me though. At some point, I said to them, “Guys, I am really annoyed. Yes, you have accomplished that. Good job. However, your words are completely wasted. Why bother saying anything bad about me if I can’t understand it. I don’t speak Norwegian you morons!”
All the while, I was very clear on the fact that my words were about as wasted as theirs. Their handsome long-haired Viking friend was sober and constantly apologizing for their behavior. He apologized again as I was leaving. I shook his hand and told him that it wasn’t his fault. “What a gentleman,” I thought. Just then, he grabbed my butt as I turned around. I just laughed at the irony. The moral: never trust a Viking.