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| From Sweden |
Despite having 6 weeks remaining in Norway, my weekend plans have required advanced planning. My second priority being here is to ascertain my “wanna-see” checklist is complete prior to departure. For those hung up on my first priority, it’s to do a great job at work! Taking into consideration the future visits by Jamie, coworkers, and hopefully a girlfriend, this left my weekend plans with two options. I took the option that was more curious and unknown.
If I got paid a dime every time I saw a Volvo, my credit card might as well have been left behind… and that’s not to say the hotel rooms are cheap. That is Sweden for you. Friday afternoon I tagged along the Volvo trail over bridges, through tunnels, and eventually onto a fairly normal highway next to farmland and forests. Due to road construction, and an earlier sunset the find-a-hotel-before-sunset rule was broken. The upside to breaking this rule is when the sun breaks through your curtains the next morning, there’s brand new surroundings to explore. Opening the curtains is like tearing the wrapping paper on xmas morning… except curtains will be charged to your room.
To my surprise, the road ended. Well, technically it was a circle, however for all intensive purposes, it ended at a ferry ramp. Just as I was adjusting to “reading” Norwegian signs, now the signs are in Swedish. Here’s a quick break down of the Scandanavian languages. Danish words spell the same as Norwegian words though are pronounced completely differently. Norwegian and Swedish have similar sounds, however are spelled completely differently. Somehow, they are all extreme dialects. The Eastern Norwegians and Western Swedes understand each other fairly well due to a sharing of television programs on the networks. If either party is from the other half of the country, there is little to no understanding and both parties will converse in English. Oh, and Finland… don’t even bother… just use English.
Back to being dumbfounded in the driver’s seat and illegally parked on the circle, I tried the only English resource, a kid in a glass-roomed waiting area. He understood the question, but was clueless to the answer. A screen advertised a ferry within 10 minutes (I could see it across the very, very small channel) and the street sign at the car line-up area indicated an event that ended at 18:05. I bought a ticket from the automatic machine (for 1 Adult and 1 Child … due to too-late-to-read-carefully-syndrome) and waited in the car area for the ferry. Nobody was around.
The ferry arrived. At the green light I pulled down the ramp, but not before the Skipper held up his hand and babbled away in Swedish. I requested English and he stated that there are no vehicles allowed on the island after 6:05pm. Ah-hah! That explains all the signs and notices. Next, I asked if there was a hotel open on the island (Marstrand is a very, very small summer resort island). He confirmed the existence of Grand Hotel and offered to call the front desk to determine if there is room. How friendly and considerate! At this point, there was only one other choice and it was a “Konfrence Hotel” that was passed 10km ago… and I was not ready to turn around for a Conference Hotel. Who could give a hotel such an unappealing title?
The Skipper returned to give me good news from the Hotel’s receptionist and I turned up the road to find parking. From the looks of it, there was another confused visitor (she was blocking the road receiving directions from a pedestrian) and I followed her into a parking lot. The signs in this lot were no less confusing than the ferry signs… to pay or not to pay? The lady visitor (Karen) was similarly confused. I found one trash-bag covered pay station and wasn’t satisfied with all the “Privat Parkering” signs, so I re-parked across the street in what seemed to be a public parking area. She followed me, and upon finding another trash-bag-covered pay station, it was confirmed free parking. We lumbered down the sidewalk with our weekend luggage towards the ferry terminal. She was from an island near Moss, South of Oslo. She’s a general practioner with 3 kids, the youngest was part of the exclusive weekend sailing exhibition for the top 13-15yr olds of the Scandinavian countries happening this weekend on the island.
The 3 minute ferry ride was fairly uneventful. The Skipper never checked the tickets, nor for my invisible child. By the time I disembarked, he did confirm that the Grand Hotel was awaiting my arrival. Thanks mate! Turns out Karen is staying at the same hotel (it was the only one open on the island) so we headed down the cobblestone boardwalk together and checked in at the hotel. She invited me to dine with her, so we shared a great meal with good conversation. It was late by the time we were finished, but ever addicted to an after-dinner walk on a full belly, I strolled the darkened cobblestone paths. It was a very spooky walk. The tree shadows transformed the white Victorian homes into a screenplay of goblins and ghouls. The sailboat masts clanked like a chain, the wind howled, and the white picket fence gates moaned. Eerie was an understatement. Needless to say, the walk lasted 15 minutes. Oh, but that was because it was cold.
After a hot scented salt bath, I nestled into bed and had a good night’s rest.
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