Off the Grid

Don't have tons of time to post tonight, my train leaves for Stockholm in 30 mins. I'm writing tonight having finished my jaunt through the fjords of Norway, which started Monday when my alarm at 7am to make my 8am bus didn't quite wake me up. So I awake with a start at 7:30am in Bergen, throw all my junk into the bags, forgo a shower and dart about 5 blocks to make my bus. I have about 8 minutes to spare, and I use it to buy myself a Wienerbrod (Danish) and a Smorrebrod (Sandwich, this one with Smoked Salmon and scrambled eggs). So I am going to be on the bus from 8am to 3pm in the afternoon, I need to stock up. It's on the ride that I realize there are no non-Norwegian people I can see. I am moving off the tourist grid, which excites me, travelling deep into a new country. I am excited about the sights I will see. I use the bus ride to finish most of the Stockholm set police procedural I am reading, THE LAUGHING POLICEMAN. It's a good, light read, despite being about Mass Murder and Sex Crimes. I am headed up to Stryn, changing buses in Førde. Why Stryn? It's all about a photo I saw in the Lonely planet's traqvel guide, with people bathing in a beach in the shadow of the fjords. This is just a really cool idea and I want to be there. So the bus brings us over fjords, through mountains, on ferries across water, and the scenery for the entire time is unparallelled. Unfortunately, arriving at Stryn is a different story. The sky is grey and rainy and my Hostel is about a kilometer up the side of the mountain. The tourist information center offers me a shortcut which only gets me more lost. Tired and sweaty, I finally reach the hostel. It's pretty quiet, and I may actually have my own room! I heas down to the town, it rains some more, and there's little to do and no decent restaurants. I settle for what ends up being a half decent pizzeria, and finally, I make my way back up to the hostel, but it's still raining hard, so I cave and get a cab. Back in my room, I now have a roommate, Ingar. One quarter gypsy, and a Norwegian, Ingar has just come up from a wedding in Bergen, and is planning to tour the fjord region and meet up with some of his army buddies. With nothing to do, and nowhere to go, he breaks out his stash of highly potent alcohol, and the two of us spend the next couple of hours drinking Orange Juice mixed with whatever it is he's got, he tells me 96% alcohol, but I have my doubts. Now drinking with a gypsy is always a dodgy situation. He is also shoring up his gypsy cred by financing his trip by selling stuff (I read through his price list, which includes the new Neil Young (on cassette), magic tricks, a shave, a haircut - hey, a one night stand for only 100 kroner!) We all have our pre-conceived notions, I already have to room with him, I don't want to have a problem with the guy because I wouldn't drink with him. I manage the situation as well as possible. I get the glasses, I watch him drink before I drink, etc. At some point some Malaysians come by and we hang around. Around then, I'm getting sleepy from the alcohol (And the day's exertions). I fall asleep with the Malaysians still in the room (Good thing too -Ingar broke out the hash around then). Rest assured I wake up the next morning with all my possessions, vital organs, etc. I learned a valuable lesson about tolerance for Gypsies (Although I learned it from Bromwell High already). Ingar's a good chaqp and we said goodbyes the next day. He told me to be careful. I wonder if I come off sometimes as too trusting. Fact is, I kept my guard up the entire night. The fact is, you have to sleep in a room with a complete stranger, you manage that as best you can.

I didn't see many sights that day. The next day was far more rewarding. I'll post that later, I had better get back to my train or my clothes will go to Stockholm without me.

PS - I have updated "The Nutshell", my last entry, so you should go back and have another look if you haven't already.