Ok, here I am in Kobenhavn (I think that’s how it’s spelled.) and already it feels good, and I haven’t left the train station yet. The superawesome guy who is going to let me crash at his house is at work, so I’ll find someplace to lock up my gear(except the hulahoop, of course) and wander about. So why am I sitting here writing this, rather than exploring and delighting in all that is Danish…ha! I can’t find the question mark on this keyboard..oop? Found it. Ok, again..why am I sitting here writing this, rather than exploring and delighting in all that is Danish? Good question. Because in order to check my email at this internet place, which is within the train station(finally!!!) I had to get an hour. So now I’m spending kroner, and at first I totally thought I was loaded with all my 100 and 200 kroner notes. The I discovered that it costs 21 kroner for either
a) 1 hour of internet time
b)a train ticket into the center of town
c) fruit juice.
It’s slightly shocking to wander into a sandwich place and see 63 kroner for a sandwich…but I’m determined not to do the math constantly and try to figure out how much I’m spending. Actually it’s more that I’m just tired. I slept on the train some, but the night train was a hoot. People smoking out the windows while someone watches for the controller, jovial smoking and beer parties everytime there was more than a 5 minute layover. We were waiting in Hanover for 40 minutes and there was a group on the platform, doin their thing while I was dancing with poi off to the side. Suddenly the front half of the train (bound for Warsaw) and our half uncoupled and the train left without us. Nothing dire, we quickly realized that they were joining up with another train on an opposing track. But this poor woman on the train who was travelling to Sweden with her son, who was one of the people on the platform, thought it was the end, and leaned out the window, her green babushka flapping in the wake of a moving train, crying ‘Aziz! Help me! I am alone on this train of foreign people travelling to a foreign land where I will be alone! Stop the train! My son is not here! Aziiiiiiiiiiizz!’ She said all this in flawless german, on a train filled with people who spoke flawless german.
We, of course had no idea this was happening, as we calmly waved to the departing train and went back to our conversations. Once back on the train, the story was told and everyone who was awake took great delight. The mom told it best, her hysteria growing with every telling until she was somewhat of a celebrity with her ability to panic at a moments notice. I was lucky to share a car with 2 german girls who slept the whole time and didn’t really talk to anyone else, a german woman named Zirka(Circe? Seerka?) who is absolutely hilarious and she and I spent most of the trip in fits of giggles over various things, and Al, a guy from Guinea who was beyond delighted to find himself in the car with what may have been the only other person on the train who could speak french. He was going on to Stockholm so once we got here, I helped him find his connecting train. The cool thing is, I have a bunch of french movies on my laptop, so I plugged in the headphones and we watched Diva, one of my favorite movies of all time…ever.
And then I watched something called Summer Heights High, which is Australian or maybe New Zealish and hilarious. I totally recommend it to those who like Flight of the Conchords and silly awesome stuff like that. They do swear in it sometimes tho, and there tend to be occasional references to parts of the male anatomy in a slightly derogatory way. Such as the penis.
Just now, I seriously considered ending this blog on the word penis.
Sleep deprivation makes me silly. er.