Danny & Pork Chop Go Scandinavian Day 5: Crossing Sweden By Train

Danny & Pork Chop Go Scandinavian Day 5:

Crossing Sweden By Train

I slept through the first alarm; thankfully I set two, knowing I’d probably sleep through the first one. I’ve gotten more rest this week than I have in the past 4 months. It's nice. Well, actually, I’ve not had this much rest since October, when I went to Providence. When I came back from there things were really starting to pull apart at the seams. 

I suppose that we could have gone back to Stockholm and flown to Oslo, but that would have been probably more trouble than it’s worth and I love the train. It’s not that long a ride from Linköping to Oslo, about 5 hours with the layover time. If I can handle the train from Berlin to Prague or Amsterdam to Paris, this should be another cakewalk. The trains here aren’t that different from the German ones, though I prefer the German ones. Things are a bit more organised I think.
The sky is a dark navy blue as I step out of the hotel and into the snowy streets. It's dead silent. There's no one around. It's only a 10-minute walk at most, but I want to get there early. It's better to sit and wait then end up missing an announcement about the train. The lights from the station glow out into the early morning, like a ghost in the night. It's empty and it's haunting. I step inside and set my bag down next to me, Pork Chop stays sat on my lap. 40 minutes until we leave. I focus on uploading the photos I'd taken during my stay and ensure that I've gotten the device cleaned out for the next leg of the trip.

I finish just as it's about time to head to the platform. That didn't take long...The doors open and I board the train from the snowy and icy platform. Seriously, doesn’t anyone own a fucking shovel here? I settle into my seat, Pork Chop next to me and tuck into Grey. I started reading this ages ago, probably late summer of 2015, but I put it down for some reason. I must have gotten distracted. I don’t think I even got halfway through. I’m less than a quarter through this time, not really having the time to read, but thankfully I’m able to pick up a book again. It’s been a while since I could just sit down and read something longer than a few page document. It's not a straight shot. I have to head to Katrineholm to transfer trains to head to Oslo. The ride there isn't too bad; it's about a 45 minutes to an hour...Then I have a 50-minute wait.
The journey is quiet and uneventful. I step out into the chilly air, the sun having risen slightly since we left Linköping. I don't risk leaving the platform to head to the little station. Even though it's small, I don't want to risk missing the train. The ticket was fucking expensive. I sit out on the platform as people shuffle past me, pulling their jackets closer to them. Meanwhile, I'm sat in a hoodie with ripped jeans, playing a game on my iPad. Cold really doesn't bother me that much. 

....

I’m sat next to this young woman with long light brown hair and enough perfume on to choke a man. I offer a warm smile as I set Pork Chop into the seat and lift my bag over my head and into the luggage rack. She doesn’t turn the smile. Her eyes return to her phone and she begins to text like a woman possessed. I’m miffed, but I can’t say that I’m surprised. This kind of shit happens all the time, mainly in other areas though. Out of my peripheral vision, I see she’s watching me type a blog entry. I don’t say anything to her, but continue typing. After a few minutes, she grows bored and roots around through a large purse, reserving four different types of makeup and a little mirror. With the shaking of the train, this might be an interesting sight to take in. She opens her palate, swipes a large puffy brush through the blush a few times and sets to work. It takes her nearly 20 minutes before she’s finished re-applying her face. I don’t know why she wasted all that time and makeup, she looked fine before. She pulls out a massive tube of lipstick and smears it across her pouty lips. She’s got a date. I look at her phone as she pulls it up. She’s meeting a bloke…but his number isn’t saved as a contact and there’s a lot of wonky faces in the text. Then it strikes me: She might be a prostitute. It would explain the outfit and the expensive bag, not to mention contactless man. I’m tempted to ask, but I know better. 

There’s an elderly man across the table from me. He’s watching the woman intently. It’s bordering on perverse. I smirk internally. I turn my attention to my book and submerge myself into the text. It’s not long before my mind is wandering back to Chubb and how much I miss his dumb ass. I glance up, feeling eyes on me. It’s the old man. I notice his Rolex and I’m filled with the desire to take it. I nudge Pork Chop and together, our eyes travel to the man. After a few minutes of staring, we lose interest and I return back to my book and to what an asshole Christian Grey is. He’s a sadist plain and simple and he should own up to it instead of fooling around. I get to the part in the book where they’ve outlined hard limits in their contract. No knife play, not cutting, no choking? What the fuck is this? How are these things hard limits? I’m perplexed. Needing to clear my head from the bullshit and not wanting to get aroused on the train, I look up. Old bloke is slumped over and his eyes are closed. He doesn’t seem to be breathing. For reasons unknown to me, my chest nearly explodes with laughter. Has he died? What do I do if he has died? I should just ignore it. A death would slow down my trip to Oslo and I really don't want that.

We stop about a half hour later and passengers begin to disembark. Make-Up girl signals to me that she wants to get up since I have my earbuds in. I get up and allow her to slip past me, her hair slapping me as she passes. Woah. What a tart. I'm not even sat for a minute before I'm tapped on my shoulder. A silver fox takes the place of the make-up laden girl. She smells wonderful, if not better than the person she’s related. She’s got soft creamy skin and her nail varnish matches the pale pink of her lip colour. Nice. Wait, Silver fox?! What is it with me and older women this week? First Shirley and now this mysterious train woman. What the fuck is wrong with me? What is in the air in Sweden? Chubbs is gonna wet himself at this. He'll never let me live it down either. I’m more in the mood to focus on my thoughts and work on the novel than to make conversation so I pretend not to understand the language and mutter in German. I acquaint myself the new passengers, looking around, studying and then I notice Silver Fox staring at me. I offer a bright smile and a raised eyebrow. ((Daniel, what the hell are you doing??)) She returns the smile and scoots a little closer to me. It’s official. I’m a man whore. I’m bursting to tell Chubbs about this. I know that if he were here the two of us would probably try to tag team her in the toilets as we speed along the tracks. ((Why have I cast this 50 something at least year old woman in a mental porno? Shit, I need to message Chubb and get his take on this.)) 

The snow thickens as we head toward Oslo. We’re about an hour away from the border when hints of snow tease me through the window. I love the snow…when I’m inside and not having to haul luggage through it. Wide open plains of snow with little hills decorate the view along the train tracks. I love the scenery. the view narrows and we’re in a natural stone tunnel; why would they build tracks through the little valley between the two massive rocks? Did they have to carve it out? Hell of a lot of work. The sky darkens despite it only being early afternoon. I'm walking to my hotel when I get there and I really hope that it doesn't start to ice and snow like the clouds are threatening. The silver fox wants to head to the bistro car so I stand up to let her pass. She slips past me, swift and smooth and heads down the carriage. I can see the outline of her knickers. I can't take it anymore. I message Chubb about the entire ordeal. He writes back a few minutes later, both amused and curious at this older woman that's caught my attention. I don't dare sneak a photo, so I just describe her to him. He rates her a 7 out of 10. I have to agree. 

We stop in Karlstad and a gaggle of people disembark. I’m more relaxed now that the carriage is emptying out. The train staff switch and there’s a woman who looks like a blonde version of Wil’s mum from the Inbetweeners checking tickets. Jesus wept. I’ve never seen a fit ticket collector. She leans down to see my ticket and I drop it so. She says she’ll get it, bending down father to collect the ticket. I drink her scent in. She smells like a creamy rose and lavender mix. I thank her. She offers me a warm smile before heading down the aisle to other passengers. I immediately shoot Chubb a message. “Mate, this train conductor bird, she looked like Wil’s mum only blonde.” It takes him a fraction of a second to message back. “No, fucking way. Pic?” This time I can't deny him a photo. I snap one quickly and send it to him. He writes back almost as fast as the speed of light. "You lucky git. She really does look like Wil's mum." I can feel his smirk from here.

....

It's mid-afternoon by the time the sun peeks from behind its clouds blanked. Small golden flecks appear on the Norwegian horizon as we speed toward Oslo. I’m waiting for the golden light to explode through the clouds, illuminating the sky giving Pork Chop & I a wondrous entrance into the city. My fantasy of a godlike entrance is short-lived, as we head further west, the clouds once again consume the sky in a silky grey colour. Gazing out through the icy windows it looks fucking cold outside. NOOOO. This isn't good. The curiosity about the city is building up in me. I didn't look at photos of the city before I planned to come here. I just looked at a street map and learned most of it. I wanted wonder to consume me as I arrived in the city. 

We’re a half hour outside of Oslo when flurries start to fly by the window. Rock formations that look like iced cakes decorate the view on the right-hand side of the carriage, a complete contrast to the white-capped icy black water that races alongside us, the current trying to match out speed. The contrast between the snow and the water is so stark. I've seen it before several times, but here it seems so pure, yet so alien; like it's something out of a film and not real life. Am I viddying life or not? Then I realise that I'm still wearing the beanie that I had when I first started all my travelling in 2011. It's been on every trip with me-every country, every city. It's been all over England, Northern Ireland, Ireland, Canada, America, Mexico, France, Germany, The Netherlands, Switzerland, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Ukraine, Latvia, Denmark, Czech Republic, New Zealand, Iceland, Estonia..maybe, even more, I've probably missed a few. This had has been to more places than most people in their entire lives. In many ways, the hat is a safety blanket; a little piece of comfort that I can take with me everywhere I go. 

We pull into the station early. I gather Pork Chop and my bag and step out onto the platform. It's so modern and clean. I love it. My first time in Oslo...what will be there waiting? The central train station is massive and it reminds me of the Leipzig station. Floors of shops, eateries and energy racing through, filling the massive space. I enter the main station away from the platforms, looking for the exit that I need because there are several. I head to the back of the station, taking my time. I want to see everything here. It's so energetic and bright. People racing about. People enjoying meals. And then there are those shopping for small Valentine's gifts at the sweet shops that fill the station. They have little fireplaces here and the warm, rich aroma of burning wood fills the hall that leads to the exit. I step out of the large doors and gasp as I take in Oslo for the first time. It's beautiful. History merges with the modern, leaving you wanting more. I never believed that I'd be able to visit a place like this; normally, this would be the sort of place that I read about or saw on telly. I have to step to the side and start taking photos. Why didn't I come here earlier? Why didn't I ever think about Norway before now? I've really missed out.