travel diary [North Jutland 04.06.2008 - 09.06.2008]
yesterday was almost eight hours of trains and buses. maybe more. we've pretty much travelled the length and width of denmark, from copenhagen to frederikshavn in one go. it's a picturesque journey if you look out the window at the right moments, zooming along lakes and rivers, crossing vast expanses of water, going over and under humongous bridges. bridges so large the perspective doesn't seem to make sense, as high as they are long. and so many yellow houses with terracotta roofs.
arriving in fredrickshavn we wandered into the small town to get food. the centre is full of shipping and boat sculptures, and considering that, not so bad smelling. it's clean looking in a very boring and uninteresting way. we ate a decent pizza
then stocked up on food and a bottle of wine. all we had to do now, before catching a bus out into the middle of nowhere, wherever the cottage is, was find a roll of toilet paper. not such an easy task (and that reminds me, i better go stock up now). we walked back through town, past kids waiting to dance to horrible music for a horrible audience, past a marching band playing 'rock around the clock' and 'yellow submarine', complete with a small army of young children armed with rifles. in the end we had to steal toilet paper from the train station, paying 2kr to both enter the ladies toilet, share a cubicle, and grab as much as was feasible.
the cottage is empty apart from a single dirty bed, which is at least something.
once we'd got the electricity and the water running we walked down to the beach, pretty much had it to ourselves. all that grey sand and shells. mostly shells. i sat in awe, i've never seen so many smashed up shells.
we drank wine, went paddling, collected and lost shells, and got watched by a hobo. wished we'd bought the food. the usual.
by the time we got back it was almost eleven but still not dark.
from where i'm sitting i can see the train driver sitting there doing nothing. i wonder if he'd be up for a game of chess
i'm sitting on a train, sitting in frederikshavn train station. i'm waiting for it to take me to skagen. i'm writing this like an asshole because yesterday i read bret easton ellis's 'the informers', all of it, and bret easton ellis is an asshole. there are vile adverts for cult cola hanging over the windows, only they're promoting breast cancer research as well, so that makes all their other hideous adverts ok, i suppose.
an hour ago we were waiting outside the cottage, our bags lined up along the side of the road and the sea riding off into the horizon. we missed the sunrise.
no bus was coming. so we walked down the hill into the tiny town (nothing but a small collection of buildings) and waited at the stop for the next bus, despite it going in the wrong direction. when it arrived (on time) it wasn't even in service, but stopped anyway. the friendly woman let us on, free of charge, and took us to a stop where we could catch a city bus.
with perfect timing too, and we almost didn't have to pay for that bus either, as the driver had seen us get off the first bus and you don't pay for connections. we even had time at the train station to buy chocolate milk and make sandwiches.
i'm sitting on the northern most tip of denmark, and right now i'm the nothern most person in this crazy country, excluding whoever might be on those tankers, transports and luxury lines that are drifting a kilometer or so off shore. we have a six pack and a bag of crisps, already half eaten. it's getting late but there are still plenty of people around, and i need to piss.
the plan was we'd camp out here, dodging the cost of a campsite, but our bags were getting heavy on the walk and we passed right by one, got sucked in. it was too late when we realised it was actually a rip off. but nevermind. it's still not exactly expensive.
out here the water is teeming with flaf fish. i thought it was just pebbles getting thrown around by the awkward currents of two oceans meeting, until i saw one circle my feet and attack. they come at you from all directions. jab jab jab.
so, skagen. it's the stinkiest town i've ever smelt. everywhere is the rank smell of dead fish like pungent rotting cheese. it blows over the town from the harbour in the east. a foul wind. but the town is cute enough, super danish in all it's yellow and orange. it makes me wonder if there's a specific name for that shade of yellow. dansk gul.
and i can't belive that guy just rode a motorcycle along the beach up here. now he's sitting on a chair in the water drinking a beer.
but the town is too tourist orientated. everywhere an icecream parlour or a shit restaurant. i wonder what happens here in the winter when it's unbearably cold and the wind blows all the tourists away.
i'm sitting on a sand dune drinking a beer, the last can, surrounded by seas, the odd banana peel or cigarette butt. sand has got everywhere, in the crisps, in my beer, in my mouth, all my pockets. i'm watching the sun set and it's taking too long. julie is about to eat all the chips.
this beach should be decorated in bonfires, blazing into the night.
in skagen we found the tourist office, then the art musuem. but with an obscene entrance fee of 80kr we bought some postcards and left it at that. we went to the beach instead, had a little swim, ate some of the hard candy we'd bought (all strange flavours and combinations of licorice), and watched a swan bob up and down in the waves.
we climbed a tower and ate a sickeningly large icecream covered in disgusting stuff and flodeboller.
then had a beer before collecting our stuff from a handy locker at the train station (which not so handily shut at 4:20, strange time). we ate savoury pancakes for dinner, opposite a guy who looked like santa claus on vacation. unfortunately you can't make him out in the photo.
from there we walked out to here. and that's the story so far.
where the sun is setting is just a.. what? giant ball of fire? it's a blinding smudge on the horizon. half nine and it's taking too long. we should have camped here. i finished my beer. it's taking forever. sand everwhere. the sound of a thousand birds. maybe less. if i knew julie was going to bring her book i would have too.
i'm walking along a very straight road. it's 10:30pm but the dawn colours in the sky and the mist floating across the fields to the west tell me it's actually 6:30am. whichever. and we are the only people in the world. us and that deer.
we'd pitched our tent perfectly predicting where the shade would be in the morning. i almost showered in the ladies (tired and not paying attention). and you only get four minutes of water for 5kr, one of which i spent trying to get the temperature right, of course. then another pretending to wash my hair (sand cleansing). we saw a hedgehog and there are too many flies. now i have bites everywhere instead of sand.
eating bread and cheese, often with tomato and cucumber, and often in a park, campsite or random train station, is one of my favourite thing about travelling. skagen train station is a single desolate platform and perfect for it.
i'm sitting on another beach, another ocean. the smell is a mix of salt air and old women perfume. someone takes a photo of the sea with their shitty mobile phone and a small child rides up and down the beach on a tiny motorcycle that must have cost way too much money. this is the tourist wreckage of 'old skagen', and clearly no one actually lives here.
i got me a bag full of various mixed salt lakrids (once of each), another six pack, and a tin of chick peas. i also pulled two grapefruit from the dumpster on my way out of the store, whilst the guy who'd just thrown them out had his back turned sweeping the floor. what i couldn't grab without making a noise, in broad daylight with plenty of people around, was a load of tomatoes, salad, mushrooms, bananas and more grapefruit. dumpster diving in this town would be all too easy.
but then, walking around with our packs, sleeping bags, etc (ungdomshuset tshirt and "still not loving police") we do rather stand out. really, we're rather passe. i'm not sure why so many people stare at us so intently.
now the train arrives and julie comes running back from the shop, clutching three oranges and you know exactly where she got them from. we are brilliant.
going back, this morning we took breakfast in a small (barely even a) park, then rented a tandem and cycled around skagen klitplantage, a large area of sporadically dense trees and open fields of dried grass. near the sea there are dunes, and the lichen is so dry you leave deep footprints. it's like walking on that weird crumbly stuff you can buy at garden stores. and we're going through it again now, but this time on the train, and julie tells me that it's not barren, it's a heath land.
apart from the area itself, the main 'attraction' is the church that's been buried by the sand. only the steeple is still visible.
you can go in it too, but only up, unfortunately you can't go down. maybe it's full of sand as well? i don't know. but where is the evidence? it could always have just been a steeple. or the rest of it fell down. and it's remarkably bad planning, building a church amongst sand dunes.
we followed a random path (slightly random, given our map reading skills and german map) and found ourselves on a quiet stretch of gorgeous beach, perfect for skinny dipping.
this train stops in the oddest places. stations that aren't even stations. and since i've been all over denmark now, where are all the pigs?
and now i need to get rid of my pins and needles so i can change train at frederikshavn. we're heading to hjorring, to change there for horne. final destination.
i'm standing on yet another beach, watching the same sun set again. so we must be on the west coast. this time i'm armed and we wait until the sun has completely disappeared, leaving nothing but a pink and orange smear across the sky. the beach would be beautiful, if it wasn't for all the cars. all the people who have driven down her to watch the sunset through their tinted windows. if it wasn't for the scum
i'm lying on a freshly cut lawn on a hill (in denmark?) with 180 degree view of the sea. i'm reading mcsweeney's mammoth treasury of thrilling tales, and wherever i move i can't escape the faint smell of decaying animal coming from somewhere in the bushes.
over lunch i'm wondering what's the main thing i'll miss when i'm old, if i'm lucky enough to make it that far (or unlucky, depending on how you see it). jumping into the sea? riding my bike? dancing to atari teenage riot? masturbating? not knowing what i'll die of? and then suddenly everyone else has a reason or excuse to leave the room, cleaning plates or making more coffee, and i'm left alone with the 98 year old woman who i've only just met and who can't speak english. i feel my face begin to redden and we smile at each other in recognition of this shared awkward moment. then she raises her coffee cup to me and says "skol".
we're staying at a family cottage, another one surrounded by trees and an overgrown lawn, wildlife threatening to take over and consume, like the buried church in skagen. it took us half an hour to find the power box, and then all we could do was put a couple of beers in the fridge and collapse infront of the tv.
all night my bites are itching. i wake up early and need the toilet but can't be bothered, so i sleep badly and have messed up dreams, all forgotten, before being woken up in a rush not wanting to be late for breakfast. the brie was increadible with the blackberry jam. the coffee way too strong.
after breakfast we drove in hirtshals to buy lunch and order dinner. i wandered around inspecting the various dumpsters. all the major supermarkets were collected conveniently near to each other. the fakta actually bothered to lock their dumpster, but the padlocks were so rusted by the sea air you could probably break them with a pair of childrens safety scissors. it was full of milk and the kids in the car parked by the dumpster were very interested in what i was doing. the huge superbrugsen dumpster had no locks and contained some fruit and veg, but it was midday and some old woman was staring at me from her balcony above. we let it be.
up on a hill, over looking the sea, the sunset dead on the horizon an hour ago. so many sunsets, counting them back betrays the feeling we've been out here for weeks. you could almost be forgiven for thinking they'd carry on forever.
the harbour lights and a main road ruin an otherwise delightful view. i drink another beer, eat some bugles. the sky in all colous, "prismatic" it says in my other book. i've been reading about an elephant that was hung, a megalodon shark, larger than two double decker buses, witches who are cats and cats that are princesses. all that thrilling stuff.
i imagine a thousand shooting stars, but see none. we discuss family matters, multidimensional space, time travel, teaching and academia.
then i sleep but a bad stomach gives me confusing dreams. i can't get a eurovision song out of my head, can't stop itching and scratching everywhere. and the birds wouldn't shut up all night.
this is the end of our trip. the last few trains home to copenhagen.
first we saw a church sitting perilously close to the edge of a quickly eroding cliff. already part of the graveyard, bones and all, has collapsed into the sea, some of if washing up on the shore near the town.
then the dali-esque landscape of a lighthouse buried amonst the sand dunes, steep and fluid, with sand so fine it feels as if it permeates your skin, whipping over the crest and suffocating you. i'm so full of sand. it feels like it's filled my lungs. and when i breathe out sand particles dance in the sunlight. when i walk a cloud of sand trails behind me. i am erosion incarnate. but, er.. anyway.
the train is hot and stuffy, and we had to jump off at aalborg because the ticket machine at the first station was broken somehow. at least the driver waiting for us, and presuming this is the right train at all. and it's all packed except for the end carriage where we're not allowed, because there were four kids who needed it all to themselves. my head is full of songs and photos and car crashes jumping into the void.
travel diary [Ribe & Flensburg 2008]
08.05.2008: i dreamt i was visiting alex's parents house in riba and we both had to sleep in the living room. when i woke up, in the dream that is, she was already awake and reading kafka's 'the trial'. funny that. when i woke up for real it was to the sound of rain, actually a boiling kettle (and not the pond fountain in the back garden that i'd presumed it must be when i opened my eyes and saw nothing but glorious sunshine and a japanese cherry tree in full bloom dripping in through the window), and i'm surrouned by so many pieces of art. sculptures and paintings. a pair of impossibly delicate clay hands. a mask teetering on the edge of a window ledge. armless headless manequins decorated in homemade costumes. a slender pink leg pointing towards the sky.
so i'm actually in riba, being mildly spontaneous and finally making it to jutland - the big island, which seems to have a reputation for being a bit backwards. people who live in the eastern islands talk about jutlanders like we talk about the welsh. it's probably a universal phenomena.
riba is the oldest town in denmark, and used to be the capital city (copenhagen became the capital in 1417) thankfully, and probably due in large part to a mass of undoubtably horribly beauracratic rules, it's been remarkably well kept. you will find no starbucks or mcdonalds here. to me it seems like a completely different country all together, with its hints of french and dutch countryside. but then what would i know about the danish countryside?
we'd cycled into town and it was almost perfect, all we were lacking was a beatbox and the amelie soundtrack. just fields of rapeseed and nothing beyond but flat endless green. maybe a small windfarm in the distance or the promise of the sea. no cars and plenty of sunshine, enough at least for mild sunburn. just us and a huge expanse of flood plain.
the focal point of the town is the cathedral, which was actually the second church to be built here, or something. it's kind of funny looking because it was built over many centuries and incorporated every change in architectural style. it has three steeples/spires, each very different, and one giving a great view of the surrounding town, which is tiny considering it could have grown to the size and shape of copenhagen by now. history is a strange thing.
there also used to be a castle here, but all that remains now is the mound and the moat and a series of drawings of how people suspect it might have looked. there are no actual records. the bricks are still here though, they were used in various buildings and salvaged to help rebuilt a part of the church that was destroyed by the germans. part of me wishes (the part that enjoys too much pseudoscience) that it must be possible to reconstruct the whole castle based on signatures ingrained in each brick as if each brick had a residual memory of the bricks that used to surround it. the idea makes up for its lack of plausibility with its epic grandeur.
there's gurgling fountains and huge water wheels (i wonder what they turn, since the building is no longer a mill). the canal that leads into the city, winding in from the sea and once upon a time bringing all the trade, splits into three and weaves all throughout the town. everyone gets a piece of river bank. and everyone says it's a beautiful place, but not to live here. that i can understand, but for right now it's just awesome.
09.05.2008: everywhere in this house there is chocolate. there is a seemingly endless supply. and there are also flies. and from the end of the driveway there's alway a cow staring back at you. right now there's a big fat bull. i can hear sheep and countless birds. there are ants crawling over my feet. weather like this, with the butterflies dancing through the falling cherry blossom, it's hard to imagine that the snow i used to deal with on a daily basis actually existed at all.
the last two nights have been spent in town, sitting in a cosy little bar upstairs and playing backgammon. windows open and the warm summer night's air desperately competing with the cigarette smoke (everyone here smokes). outside you can see the night watchman, all dressed up and with a big stick, wandering the town telling stories to the paying tourists. it's the kind of town where everyone knows everyone. that'd be nice wouldn't it? we met with various friends, coming and going, and they were all awesome. one of them repeatedly beat me at backgammon, which was bound to happen eventually (it's statistics etc). and we had to leave early because the parents were picking us up to take us home, like we were sixteen again. quite strange.
this green spider keeps crawling all over me. we meet again, finally. when i was younger we were in malvern up that big hill and i saw a green spider and no one believed me. or that's how i remember it at least.
so yesterday we drove into flensburg, a town or small city in north germany not far from the danish border. i have a weird relationship with germany in that unlike all other countries i've been to i've only visited its towns, no major cities. i've also only been in the most northern parts of germany. flensburg is many churches and a rather nice touristy harbour.
it also has what's probably the quaintest redlight district in the world:
the only clues are a large number of trainers slung over a wire crossing the main street just before the turning (and new looking shoes too, maybe the shoes of customers leaving in a hurry? surely not gang killings) and red flourescent tubes in the windows of several houses along the street itself. none were switched on but they were quite visible.
just up the road from we found an infoshop that only opens once a month. as i was contemplating quite how ridiculous that is someone came along and opened the shop. we were very lucky. i bought a book called 'the fall of america', a kind of autobiographical fictional novel (i'm guessing) whose cover is made from a cereal packet. too punk not to buy. it's ok if not a bit forced, from train hopping to dumpster diving to critical mass to etc. ranting dialogues that should never have progressed past monologues. i dis, but i do like it.
i also got my first proper marker. it's fat and sexy and shall get me into trouble. alex's younger brother has been teaching me the more technical aspects of graffiti, the stuff you don't learn from buying banksy books, so now i can be a more convincing poseur. go on, just ask me about fat caps and skinny caps and the density of paint spray. also why people use that terribly ugly silver paint.
i guess i didn't learn much abour flensburg, what with not having our own personal guide, but it was fun just walking around and eating kinder icecream. we also stocked up on alcohol for the coming festivities, six crates of beer and various bottles of liquor. i couldn't resist buying a small bullet shaped bottle of elkschnaps - for "after hunting, with a beer or when the longing gets too strong". seriously, what is wrong with people? actually, the best thing about that supermarket (in germany but with danish prices) was that you could try the wine, self-service.
on the drive back to ribe we passed a truck that had driven off the road and fallen into the ditch, pitched over at a nasty angle. it's not that interesting but you don't see stuff like that every day. the driver was probably trying to overtake a tractor or something stupid. we had so many of them on the drive down, one asshole even pulled out infront of us and continued to drive at 30km/h.
someone called me sebastian.
09.05.2008: the tulip festival has begun. from what i understand this is all about drinking. but we'll see. the days keep getting better and better. i'm beginning to worry the sun will wear itself out and we'll be ruined for the rest of summer. is it even supposed to be summer yet?
earlier we cycled down to the beach, which isn't really a beach at all. it's mostly mud, and flat for miles, all the way out to the island (there's a tractor bus but it's expensive and infrequent). you can try to walk it but since it's so flat the tide comes in very quickly. the water was warm and full of so many crabs. off in the distance a couple of men were digging in the mud for worms. and the patterns in the water just hypnotize.
as well as lounging around on the vast expanse of lawn, reading and etc, i've been playing a lot of kubb, a swedish game involving lots of batton throwing and lots of wooden blocks. we're getting slowly better at it, after being repeatedly beaten 5-0 by the norwegians who were staying here (having left, the pepsi max consumption has gone down by several litres a day). we decided we'd be better at it if we replaced the blocks with policemen and hurled rocks and bottles instead. the king can be replaced by bjaern. then we can kick some ass. er, anyway.
there's that fantastic tree.
10.05.2008 our bikes finally rolled back onto the gravel driveway somewhere around 5am. we'd rode home with the distant slow rising sun, making our lack of bike lights somewhat immaterial (but argue that to a copper). our baskets were full of buns and apples, all reclaimed from behind netto, and hurling that apple core into the air along the road infront of my wheels felt like a true victory. i can tell this story, but only if i work it backwards.
at 4am the town was still teeming with people, all drunk and ugly and a mess. the queue at 'subs n burgers' was about as grotesque as i imagined there food would be, but (as demonstrated) no one really cared about that. neither the food nor queue. the place just around the corner was empty in comparison, except the dude behind the counter refused to make us a vegetarian pizza. at the time i was less sympathetic, too hungry to imagine the horrible night he must have had, but we settled for falafels, and this time they actually came with falafel in (as opposed to in germany where they didn't). and they were good too.
before this we'd been sitting on a bench waiting for alex. i'm not sure why we'd left the bar we were in, except it was horrible and vile and everyone was singing along and dancing to 'sweet child of mine'. needless the say the band did not make a good impression on me. from what i can remember i spent the entire time in there discussing trip hop and the quality of beth gibbons. we'd been in there for too many songs and i'd barely drunk an inch of my pint, by this point i knew i didn't need more alcohol. and to think the door man, skinny and old compared to the guys i'd seen throwing drunk kids around earlier, wouldn't let me in because i didn't have ID. he was either distracted or gave up caring (he knew he was being an ass) because i was pulled past him into that smelly mass of people.
it was a bit like the opposite of the bends (the syndrome and the album, why not). up to this point we'd been outside, sitting on all those cobblestones amongst the chaos, some wild eyed girl babbling at me with a strange acquired english accent about lemington spa and me trying to ignore her and her evident craziness. and then escaping to find a toilet. actually, maybe the bouncer hadn't wanted to let me in because he'd seen me pissing up the back of his bar. we'd bought pints from a street bar and it felt right. people should be in the street partying like this always.
except just before we'd been given the job of looking after some sailor kid who'd had way too much drink. he was at the scary point where he hadn't passed out but probably should have an hour ago. he was vaguely concious and had little to no motor control. we called his parents and his dad came to pick him up, all smiles. maybe he'd have been better off with an ambulance, which is what he'd have had in england. i just kept drinking my beer, grateful that i'd met the dwarf guy, if that's what you can call meeting. it's a shame he was in no state to tell the story himself, which is necessary because i find it slightly hard to believe, this almost mythical brothel in germany where the perversions increase with the floor numbers and inhabiting the top floor are black dwarves dressed in velcro which you bounce of trampolines and stick to the wall before fucking.
at least if you're a black dwarf you can always find employment.
the first bar we'd attempted to get into was charging silly prices, and we were in no mood for that. besides, there were plenty of people we knew outside. i met one guy who had an anarcha primitivism star tattooed on his right hand, it confused me because he was wearing an expensive pair of trainers and all white clothes. at least he actually knew what it meant, and i felt bad for judging him, if only slightly. being drunk does that, and although this was the first bar, we were already many beers into the night.
we'd met up at someone's apartment, a small room with a very high ceiling in what used to be a mental hospital. due to a slightly strange situation we spent most of the time there listening to bob dylan. and then two yeah yeah yeahs albums. that gives you a time scale. originally we were drinking mimosas, and then beers when the champagne ran out, punctuated with shots of galliano, coffee and cream. who knew there was a drink better than baileys coffee? and there was a funny story about silver spoons, but i'll save that for another day.
the night had many revelations, but for me it was learning that not only i could make squealing noises by blowing a reed between my thumb (i knew the trick, just never pulled it off before), but i could also do it using various leaves. i learnt a new instrument. and that's really worth something.
12.09.2008: i was genuinely surprised when i woke up and it was dark outside. such has been the last few days, i've not slept through any of the night, but not that i can remember it all that well.
saturday started nice and slow. at about 3pm we cycled into town (stopping for a tyrkisk peber icecream, weirdest shit i ever ate) to join a birthday party picnic. and once again i'm surrounded by teachers. we played croquet ("crocket") and ordered massive amounts of pizza. as is typical there was a mixup with the vegetarian pizza (chicken is a vegetable) and we had to order another, but this was no problem. although i was a bit jealous of the spaghetti pizza, but at the same time also a bit disturbed.
also at the party was the (to be) legendary silver spoon guy. over the week i have heard many stories about this guy, but the stand out one goes like this. him and his girlfriend (for whose birthday he bought a crib) received some tax back from the government and sensibly decided to spend it on something useful for themselves, something for the house or a holiday, etc, something like that. only a couple of days later he comes home with a set of silver spoons, about $1200 worth. maybe you need more context to find it funny, but everytime i think about it i crack up. even in really inappropriate situations.
the volume on the stereo slowly increased through the day and at some point the sun began to set. the temperature dropped. i was drinking slowly and swinging through emotions. hi ad some really interesting conversations, played some acoustic guitar (apparently i was the only person who could play, and i can't really play anything), learnt a bob dylan song (that was difficult) but refused the oasis greenday song. someone got enthusiastic about my vegetarian trainers. and then i found out the drunk guy we saved yesterday wasn't the dwarf guy at all. but nevermind, the story has been written.
at somepoint we picked up and headed into town in search of nice coffee. the lovely place where alex's mum works was closed, but we managed to get coffee (on the house) from an equally lovely place where alex used to work. the woman also gave me a humongous cookie. we then had the problem of getting drunk, which is always tricky after you've already spent most of the day drinking. a basement bar offered us fernet branca and nice beer. then this proper redneck came in, dirty yellow baseball cap and missing teeth and all, the full getup, and he had two dogs with him. people were eating. and that's when i discovered the girl we were with was the girl who does the incredible dog barks. she copied every bark those damn dogs did and no one even noticed or cared. it found it so funny it hurt, and the redneck had the audacity to think it was at his dogs i was laughing.
then we went back to the horrible bar from the night before. it was early yet and the band was bareable. i was still seething from seeing girls walk down the street drinking cult shaker. and the woman opposite me at the bar was too. just disgusting. later that night i actually found a discarded bottle of that shit and can confirm it's vile. tastes like redbull and vodka, despite it being made with cider because vodka is taxed higher. anyway, there was more fernet branca (heh, also vile but at least it's made from herbs and spices, and it's growing on me) and more beers. by this time we'd ran out of money. but the beers kept coming anyway. it's disgusting how much beer is wasted at festivals.
so we moved back into the fresh air, got talking to a guy about ungdomshuset and he called his startlingly good looking friend over with "hey, this guy is an ungern". which is not entirely true, but cool none the less. later on, the good looking guy admitted he learnt english playing warcraft, which is a bit weird when he could be out having sex with anyone he wanted.
then to another bar, horribly busy, but we made it out into the back garden where you could breathe and see the canal and all the stars beyond. bang. and then the sky begins to lighten, a light blue band appearing on the horizon, and i find a beach. for a minute it all went a bit surreal, but then we're back inside and people are being slowly thrown out. by the time we're ejected from the pub it's proper daylight and i meet a guy with the longest plaited beard i've ever seen. vikings.
with no money and no food but a raging hunger we had no choice but to go dumpster diving, broad daylight. and so we cycled all the way home eating bread.
i had about four hours before having to get up and eat breakfast. me and alex have been rocking the fried egg sandwiches. then her dad drove me to another town, as there was a rail strike on, to catch the train back to copenhagen. friendliest people. from madagascar i believe.
and that's why i've not been emailing you or writing anything. now you know.
travel diary [Fyn 2008]
05.05.2008: reasons for my jetlag are many, and they got me wondering why there's never discussion of it in time travel literature. it must be a nightmare for the irregular traveller. unless you offset your physical jump with a temporal jump, there's an idea. but then that's something that's never discussed either, if i go back in time an hour i'll be dropped 67000 miles behind the earth. and that's only relative to the sun, which makes no sense either. i guess relativity messes it up so much it's just not worth talking about.
anyway, not to get distracted. after the shenanigans of mayday we were up nice and early to drive to fyn (we could have just gone forward in time five minutes, relative to the centre of the earth of course), which is the next island along after sjaelland (where we live, for the non-danish among you). we had been invited to a family party and everything that goes along with it. turn out it's a gorgeous place.
we ate and we walked and we ate again and we walked again. then we played trivial pursuit and poker late into the night. the morning came much too quickly, which is not what i wanted since i was to start work 16 hours later, but it felt good washing in an unknown shower.
and that explains a lot.
i often have this dream where i'm drinking endless bottles of water. my mouth is parched, it's like sand paper, and my throat is a cardboard tube. but nothing helps, the water goes straight down without touching the sides. it's horrible, but it's kind of how i feel right now.