Around the World: Stockholm

April 10, 1992

This morning, I woke up in Stockholm, Sweden.  The train was loaded onto a ferry again, but I was so tired, I barely noticed.  Stockholm is very cold and I think I'm catching one myself.  I bought some post cards and stamps and searched in vain for Ikea.  It requires a long bus trip and I just don't have the motivation to get there.

Instead, I strolled along the ferry docks and made inquiries to get to Helsinki, Finland.  The first person I asked told me the earliest I could go was on the 17th.  Disappointed with this answer, I thought I'd ask someone else and compare responses.  The next answer is very different.  I can get on the ferry tonight to Turku and take a 2½ hour train ride to Helsinki from there.  The lady at the information desk warns me that it is a very busy route and offers to make reservations for the return trip back to Stockholm.

Stockholm, at least the part I'm in, is a very clean, very generic and orderly city.  It's cold enough to be uncomfortable walking around outside and I'm not feeling well enough to exert the effort to seek out Stockholm's more interesting side.  I decide to seek shelter in a bar with a pleasant view close to the harbour and wait until it's time for the ferry to leave.

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"It is amazing how much crisper the general experience of life becomes when your body is given a chance to develop a little strength."

~Frank Duff

Around the World: Copenhagen

April 9, 1992

After spending yesterday afternoon trying to pull my melancholy up, I kicked it off and tossed it in a trash can on the way to the train station last night. There's something in the air here, an allergen possibly, that makes me travel weary and I'm not ready to go home just yet.  Maybe it's the chill in the air.  Maybe it's Germany.  The plan was to head to Berlin and sleep on the train last night, but that's not what happened.

I've learned not to argue with the fates.  The train going to Berlin was missing.  I'm sure someone knew where it was, it just wasn't where it was supposed to be, on the track in front of me.  Instead, there was a collection of army green coaches, either heading to or coming from Poland.  Through the windows, I could see the coaches packed with furniture, chair and table legs, lamps, drawers all piled in a heap around the passengers.  Further down the platform at the end of the train, are three empty orange coaches.  The train will split along the way and these orange cars are going to Copenhagen.

Well, why not?

Very early this morning, the conductor wakes everybody up in Puttgarden to announce that the train is going to be loaded onto a ship.  When the ship arrives on Denmark soil, the train is unloaded and the two passengers in my couchette leave.  I now have the entire couchette to myself.  After my ticket is checked and the conductor leaves, I realize the door is jammed shut.  I'm only going to sleep and it looks like no one will be bothering me without a good reason, like rescuing me when the train arrives in Copenhagen.

The air here is definitely different.  I am trying to control the urge to laugh out loud remembering the words of Jorn, one of the many backpackers from Sunny's Guest House in New Delhi.  Every morning, the same Indian waiter would come to take his tea away, asking, "You finish?" to which Jorn always replied, "No, I'm Danish."  I can feel that same silliness in the air here, and it's making me giddy.  Someone approaches me speaking a language I don't understand.  "Sorry, I don't speak Danish" I respond. Or turnover, or strudel.....

I have to find tourist info to get some Danish krone and a map.  The first challenge is figuring out how to use the coin operated locks with Danish instructions.  My backpack doesn't fit in the less expensive, smaller coin operated lockers and I need to purchase a special token for the larger one.  The machine that dispenses tokens only accepts 10 krone coins and the only krone coin I have says "20".  A nearby hot dog stand can't help me.  It appears that changing my 20 krone coin into two 10's is a major undertaking and I am directed to the post office, where my dilemma is resolved while waiting in line.

My next mission is locating a place that serves coffee.  A nearby cafe makes yummy smoked salmon sandwiches for ridiculously cheap.

It's brisk, but pleasant enough as long as long as I keep moving.  I stop to feed some ducks in a few parks, take pictures of a mermaid statue in the harbour and buy some postcard size prints of paintings by Salvadore Dali. Copenhagen seems to have cured my melancholy.

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"If you're feeling low, don't despair. The sun has a sinking spell every night, but it comes back up every morning. The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain."
~ Dolly Parton

Around the World: Dusseldorf Blues

April 8, 1992

Instead of a shower, I had a character building experience this morning.  The shower is operated by pushing a button.  There's no way to turn it off once it's activated.  When I turned the shower on, the water was freezing cold.  Unimpressed with the prospect of starting the day with hypothermia, I decided to skip it and get dressed.  Then, the water started warming up, so I quickly undressed and hopped in. Just as I was ready to rinse all the soap off me, the water cut out all together.

Soapy and half blind, I turned on the shower again and was doused with an unwelcome spray of freezing cold water.  When it finally warmed up again, I hurried to rinse off the soap and stood under the warm water to recover from the cold spray.  Challenge completed, I'm now ready to take on the world, or at least a short train trip to Dusseldorf.

Browsing the postcards in a shop, I am not finding much that I want to do or see in Dusseldorf.  A grocery store provides me with all the fixings for a picnic.  A nearby park has all the comforts required to spend a quiet day watching people.  I'm in an odd mood, a consuming and uninspired, melancholy frame of mind, possibly homesickness.  Calculating the time difference, I figure it's late morning in Toronto, and likely that someone is home.  Maybe a familiar voice will break the gloomy cloud that hangs over my head.

The phone rings and rings.  No one answers.  Odd.

Back to people watching, the constant flow of people rushing off to someplace else, a few people are hurriedly walking dogs in the park.  It's easy to take things, and especially people for granted.  I really miss my family, my friends and the little day to day things that seem so monotonously routine.  I miss having a permanent place to keep my toothbrush.  I miss sleeping in my own bed, listening to familiar music, talking to my grandparents.  My grandparents are pretty cool people, being old only in years.  My grandma is the most empathetic person I've ever met, she has a special gift for understanding people.  My grandad always has a funny story and loves to laugh. It's too bad they didn't answer the phone.  I know they would have been thrilled to hear my voice and talking to them always brightens my day.

Family and friends, cheers from Dusseldorf.  I miss you all terribly and send you my love.  How I wish..., how I wish you were here.

• ¤ •

In loving memory
Patrick Gerald O'Grady

May 21, 1913 - April 8, 1992