Scandinavian Sea-faring

I was so full of excitement and expectation as I saw the huge, 7-level boat rise above me at the shore of Newcastle. It was about to take me on a cruise from Newcastle England to Kristiansand Norway, after all! The ship was so huge and white and sparkly compared to the gray narrowness of Newcastle. To top it all off, I knew that I would be sailing to Norway, the land of Fjords and trolls. You can imagine my joy! I remembered how nice my cruise between Norway and Sweden had been 2 years ago ... I certainly didn’t have any seasickness then!

Well, that wasn’t the open ocean.
God I was naive when I boasted to everyone that I don’t get seasick. You can’t know if you get seasick until you have been on a giant cruise boat that’s heaving back and forth as it oh so gut-wrenchingly slowly rolls you about in your bed. The worst of it, though, isn’t the nausea. It’s the vertigo. You don’t know whether your upright or upside down or whether you’re going to slip and crack your skull open while you take a shower.

The end result was phenomenal though. Kristiansand is a tiny glittering jewel of a town, right on the water. I spent hours in a little cafe there waiting for my train, and the people were relaxed and social. They didn’t seem to have a care in the world as they stared out the window at the bright, sparkling water and ate their Lefse (yummy norwegian pancake-like things).

On the train ride from Kristiansand to Sandefjord, I saw some of the most beautiful scenery possible. It was worth the sickness, worth the 9 hour layover in Ireland, worth the overweight luggage; worth it all. The sun shone brightly that day, and there was a blanket of crisp white snow that covered mountains and fjords that rose dramatically up from little rivers and valleys. The snowy mountains were covered with traditional little Scandinavian wooden houses in red, yellow, blue, and green. I can’t compare it to anything except to say that the least beautiful leg of that journey was as pretty as the most beautiful area of the Colorado rockies. And that’s saying a lot.

I finally arrived in Sandefjord after an hour long taxi ride on narrow, icy, winding roads with a swede and 2 norwegians. The swede, of course, took that opportunity (mid-taxi-ride) to talk about the bad condition of norwegian roads and the high number of fatalities on those roads. The Norwegians preferred to discuss their favorite show about drag queens, “Queentastic.” Typical.

I can’t wait to see what misadventures will come next!

Jigs and Kilts

True, I'm in England, but I can't help but re-live Ireland, and all 9 hours that I spent there. One of the funny things about traveling to a country whose language you (supposedly) speak natively is that you forget that there are different words for different things. Take "que" (or is it "cue"?) as an example. In America, we "line up" for things, but when I asked a group of 5 or 6 pleasant-looking thirty-something Irish men "are you in line?", they looked at me, smiled from ear to ear and said, almost incomprehensibly, "Nooooow, we ahn't een keelts, now, aah we, nun uv us?"
Then they laughed... goodheartedly, I might add, and not at my expense at all.
I hope they were referring to the Irish Jig or something like that. Lines. Kilts..... ?

LUCK O' TH' OIRISH

The Irish folk are awesome... and I would know, considering that while traveling alone, I didn't have one lonely moment for a whole 9 hours in the Dublin airport... The Irish seem to have an unparallelled gift for gab, pleased to spill their life stories upon the first meeting, buy you a pitcher of beer to share at the terminal during the flight delay, and stop their busy schedules to run around for half an hour and try to solve your missed-connection dilemma. I especially liked the ones who I could understand through that accent. They're my favorite. They even keep their farm animals within a stone's throw from the airport.... which just seems trusting in a way.

It's 2a.m. here in lovely Kenilworth, England. It's cold in that way that only England seems to ever get cold. I'm having such a great time here though, meeting all sorts of people, even folks with names like Louise, Theopie and Oliver!
I went clubbing for the first time with my little cousin Jonathan on Saturday, in Royal Lemington Spa at "Evolve" (http://www.evolvenightclub.co.uk/index.php). As his cool older cousin, I, of course had to help Jonathan's "game" by telling the girls that "he's the toughest guy I know!" and "he's the best freestyle rap artist I've ever heard!" I'm a good cousin. He claims that when one of his little lady friends saw him with me (not knowing I'm his cousin), she got jealous, pointing and gaping accusingly at me ... Which is both a gross and endearing story. LOL!

I learnt that in England, tipping bartenders is a DON'T but sharing bathroom stalls with complete strangers is a DO........ ICK! Yes, totally strange girls will come up to you in the "loo" and ask if you'd like to share a stall with them... What? WhY?!!

Tonight at the "Bear and Ragged Staff" pub, I learnt that the Brits don't know what a screwdriver is ("Wha's a screwdrivea? I neva' hahd off it!) but I didn't learn how the "Staff" got "Ragged"...