Arrival

Chapter four

I arrived in Copenhagen after a pleasant flight with a window seat. One good thing about all this is that I've had three different delicious pastries, one for each flight. I got in at about 6, seven hours later than intended. I went to pick up my bag and would you believe it? I watched for fifteen minutes the same left over bags going round and round, mine not appearing despite my willing it to with all my might. There were a few similar looking ones to tease me and my eyeballs hurt from hopeful scrutiny of these, but no luck. Okay so by now I have to admit that I was getting a bit fragile. I followed instructions to a counter and a lovely young man who looked about 12 served me. Poor young thing. It was all I could do to hold it together. He heard the quake in my voice, saw the pathetic look of helplessness in my eyes, and the slouch of my body weary from the hours of travel, stress and problems. He smiled cheerily and said 'let's see what we can find'. Like a comforting adult to a small child he said in a bright voice 'I know where your bag is' and directed me to yet another counter. It had gone through a slightly different process due to my being redirected and was on a different carousel. 

Now to get the train.

So I'm on the train now and pretty confident that I'll cope with changing at a station I can't read or pronounce. One more step in this tedious process. I wanted adventure and I guess that's what this is. 

When I get in it'll be 12:45am. Isn't that poetic? This whole journey has taken 23 hours, seems I was woken at 1:45 the morning before.

Chapter five

Now after all, wasn't this view that I woke up to after eight hours of solid sleep worth it? And that's not to mention the airy and welcoming dining room with a full buffet breakfast. Life is sweet again. 

But it wasn't own without more drama. The change of trains was doable but I arrived at a lonely station in the freezing cold and had to wait for twenty minutes for the next connection. Now I can deal with the stairs and 25 kl of luggage, I can deal with waiting in the cold. What I didn't like were the night sounds of men, drunk and shouting, on the road paralleling the station. I was sure they would spy this lonely tourist and mug me and as my imagination grew, I tried to become smaller. It was midnight. Nice tourists should be tucked up in bed, not waiting on lonely dark stations. 

The next train came and deposited me at Viborg. It took a conductor to lead me off, as I couldn't see a sign or understand the announcement and my google maps indicated I wasn't quite in viborg yet. When I got out I faced another flight of stairs, so up I climbed. A ramp led me down to another lonely place, a large square for catching buses during working hours. I was reassured by seeing about fifty push bikes all parked neatly under a shelter. Not one of them was chained up. Surely no one would mug me in a town that housed such an honest and trusting community that they could leave their bikes at a train station and not be anxious about them being stolen. 

I saw someone get on one and ride off. I followed them in that direction, figuring it might lead me to the taxi stand the hotel promised would be there with taxis waiting. And there they were. Ahhhh. Home is nearly in sight.

But not without one last mishap. The driver smiled and took my bag, placing it in the boot. Then he very kindly openned the door for me. I smiled and wondered why he hadn't stood aside to let me in, but I jumped inside anyway, to find myself facing a steering wheel! Oops. They drive on the right side of the road around here. He was opening the door for himself, not me. I looked up at him and apologized. hH laughed as I said, "So sorry, I'm Australian". It seemed all the explanation he needed.

The hotel and the bed were all I had dreamed about since embarking on this eventful journey. It's lovely here and I'm having a meal with Jane and her husband tonight. I hear they have horses so I'm pretty excited at the prospect of pressing my face into a musky mane and feeling their velvety muzzles, if they'll let me. 

I'm about to post my thoughts on documentation from Bolden, so stay tuned.