sleep – Page 2 – paralyzedbynotcaring

Choo choo

Today we bought our train tickets to Hamburg and then went to Sweden to have lunch. Dad was very impressed with the train system. In Malmo, we split two sandwiches: duck and lamb. Can you guess which wich is which?

Then we walked around and looked around. This is just outside the main train station.

We looked at the fountains and brick buildings like good little tourists.The tourists look like this.

The buildings look like this.

We came across St. Peter’s, which listed many recognizable names on the priest list (Pederson, Hansen, Christensen).

A stone fountain had this irresistible carving.

We found a canal/small river and walked along it until the misty rain teamed up with some wind.

Another beautiful summer day!

On our meander back to the train station, I spied the Demon in a different disguise. I should have known then to be on my guard.

Back at the station we lined up for the return train; this train stops at the Copenhagen airport and then we must transfer to another train to get to the main station. Dad looked at the display on another train and decided it was better because it didn’t seem to require a transfer. The train came and I didn’t examine the board thoroughly before we were heading out.

I knew things were fishy when we didn’t get back on the bridge in short order.

Figuring this train was actually coming from Denmark, which is what Dad may have seen, we got off at a tiny outdoor station called Svedala before we ended up at the north pole with only a bottle of Arizona tea and a Kex Choklad to sustain us.

Luckily this station was not completely remote and soon other passengers arrived to wait for the train back to Malmo, though at first we were all alone on the misty platform. That Demon, I swear.

That was all a bit much for both of us and so we had to take a nap after returning to the hotel. We are now debating whether to pick up 7eleven sandos for dinner and call it a day. I am holding out for room service, but honestly it doesn’t look good.

Birthday boy

Today is Dad’s birthday so I woke up before God and we spend all day out and about. We rode the tour bus to the tour boat, where it promptly started pouring. The boat was uncovered, so we dashed across the street to the Christiansborg Palace. Right outside is this horseman and a statue of a slain polar bear that doesn’t need to be mentioned ever again.

Also outside is another building with this spectacular spire–three dragon’s tails winding towards Valhalla.

Once inside the Palace and safe from the rain, we put the required blue footie protectors over our feet and walked through the rooms to admire the artwork, history, and architecture. My favorite room was the Queen’s Library, which had books dating back to the 18th century.

Many of the rooms were large, with artwork depicting Danish history and molding so detailed it told its own story. Each room had a theme (Green Room, Velvet Room, Swedish People on Horses Room, etc.), but the throne room was different. It is oval rather than rectangular, and the floorboard pattern was designed keeping in mind that people had to face the throne as they departed, walking backwards. Stay one the right pattern track and you can back into the hall.

The larger throne is for the queen, naturally.

One room, the largest, had dazzlingly detailed tapestries of Danish history from Vikings to modern day. They were given to the Queen in 200o for her birthday. Though very colorful, I found them to be a bit overwhelming, and had to focus on finding little details or neverland or nemo. Well, look what I discovered.

There she is–the Last Unicorn! You really never know what you are going to find in a tapestry.

After the palace it was still a bit drizzly, so we had lunch and then took the bus to the mall. Dad wanted to find some Danish winter sweaters, but as it’s August this proved to be too much. I, however, did manage to find not only golden bobby pins but also a jacket that fit around my boobs. Wonders never cease.

The sun came out and we were able to make the last boat tour of the day. Dad was very happy to finally be on a boat.

We motored through to the end of Nyhaven, a beautiful canal/street. I was particularly interested in this street because HC Anderson of Little Mermaid fame once resided here. I don’t know exactly which house was his but they all look pretty much like this.

He wrote well over 100 fairy tales, many of which still get play today. I seem to recall there is a good podcast ep about him from Stuff You Missed in History Class where I learned that he was a bit eccentric and poverty stricken. What, a gifted writer, living in poverty? Nooo.

From the boat we got a decent though fleeting view of the Church of Our Savior, in all it’s winding glory.

The tour guide says it’s an easy 400 steps to the top.

Maybe tomorrow.

This boat tour differed from the others I’ve taken in that the bridges are VERY low to the water. Sitting in the boat was safe, but you could easily reach up and touch the bottom of the bridge as we passed under it. I ducked just on principle. Other than that, it was a good boat tour.

It being Dad’s birthday, we went out to dinner to a place with candles and real napkins. On the way, we passed this gem.

That’s right, Tycho Brahe has a planetarium just down the street from our hotel. You may recall I mentioned Brahe in my post about the Kepler Museum in Prague. Brahe is a famous Danish astronomer known for his meticulous data records and larger than life personality. I might be half in love with him.

Once we made it to the restaurant, Dad learned about water coming in a bottle, paying with a card at the table, and that no check will ever come if you don’t ask for one. We had smoked salmon and steak and panna cotta, all of which were excellent.

Tomorrow we are taking the train to Malmo, Sweden (the ferry doesn’t run between Copenhagen and Malmo anymore according to sources*) to see the Swedish sights.

I am still reading The Family Romanov and Good Behavior. Dad is reading** Coyote Blue by Christopher Moore.

*Google

**holding briefly before falling to sleep

Walking around looking around: Copenhagen

Dad is an early riser so today I learned what it’s like to take the first tour bus of the day (Hint: less crowded).

We were driven up and down and all around the city, stopping at the Little Mermaid of course.

Yes, she really is that little.

We were compelled to visit the Carlsburg exbeerience; they no longer brew the beer at the site, but similar to the Heineken experience, there is an interesting history and process to learn about. Here are a few factoids.

This bottle’s label design, from the very early 1900s, didn’t last.

There are hundreds of old bottles to look at.

Our favorite little statue was brought to you by beer!

Skaal!

Of course there were also a few places to sample the product. For science.

This evening we visited Tivoli, which is a carnival/garden/music venue/restaurant hub area place thing. Walt Disney was inspired by it and the result is DL–there is a certain whimsy they share. Tivoli is more old-timey, though you can order a #3 at the hotdog stand and get two dogs and a dark beer, which seems progressive. The rides were of an elevated state fair variety, but after hotdogs and beer we were not up to defying gravity. Fountains, detailed planters, carnival lights, a robot rabbit lawn mower, fun house mirrors, and some rogue peacocks finished the scene.

I think the major difference is that far more adults without children want to come to Tivoli–for dinner, for some music, or just to see all the pretty lights and fountains. It wasn’t a hassle to get to, either. It’s right in the middle of downtown, only a few blocks from our hotel.

Here’s to a no-hassle day tomorrow.

Czech to France

I’ve been traveling the last few days and finally got a full day of basically doing nothing. I usually have one of those days once a week. On this trip I haven’t had one in going on a month. It is particularly well timed as my woes with Wells Fargo came to a nadir I didn’t know existed: they refused to send a second replacement card (I never got the first one and was leaving the address it was being sent to). My last day in Prague was spent in total, shaking disbelief that no one at WF could help me and they were content to continue to let me be stranded without access to my own money. Needless to say I sent a strongly worded letter to the board of directors. I am still experiencing the emotional fallout of being completely alone so far from home dealing with being stonewalled unnecessarily by a company that could so easily fix the problem. It’s as easy as sending another replacement card. Their arguments are invalid.

I am still really upset about it and the ongoing nature of this ridiculousness has made me want to come home every day for the last 11 days or so–much more than usual. I wouldn’t say it’s completely ruined my trip (the train strike kind of already did that), but it’s dampened the already tenuous rekindling of my enthusiasm.

So, that being said, I am trying to focus on the positive and not be a gigantic grump for the rest of my life. Dad is meeting me in Denmark in a week.

I am reading Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach, Cinder by Marissa Meyer, and parts of Part 2 of Mark Twain’s Autobiography (saved for emergency situations).

Lists, pt. 3

Things I miss
My bed
ice
extra ice
napkins
extra napkinsbeing able to drive places
Diet 7up
regular internet access
English

Things I did today
canal tour (I hate boats)

Walked down the city’s narrowest street

Saw more canals

Decided that traveling with old people is the way to go

Why traveling with old people is the way to go
Reasonable walking speed
Interest in culture and history
Chill attitude about resting
They don’t miss buses (see above)
They don’t mess with their eating/pills schedules
They go to bed early
People get out of their way
Cars stop for them
They never get arrested

I am injured

I think with all the running around I did when I traveled from France to Belgium I must have broken my left knee. This knee is making some double cracking noises now at every opportunity. Oh, and it hurts to bend it. Yesterday I took a bus tour of Bruges as a bit of a rest. Twenty euros for a 45-minute ride was a bit much, but as it was raining and the museums were closed, there wasn’t much else in the way of indoor activities other than eating and drinking or climbing to the top of the Belfry. Even though the rain blurred the view from the bus windows and the breath of the passengers fogged the rest, the bus tour was still worth it.

Happy to be on the bus almost seeing the sights!

I considered attempting the Belfry. There was no line. But my knee being broken led me instead to get some fries and waffles. I did a bit of window shopping–there are a lot of shops selling very beautiful, detailed lace works–but in the rain everything becomes a drag and I came back to my airbnb and took a four hour nap.

After a nap and then waking up so I could put myself to bed, I caught the train to Bruge (I’m staying one stop away). Look how cute and put together I was.

My knee felt a bit better, so I stared this behemoth down.

For 10 euros I was permitted to attempt the 366 steps to the top. I started counting but lost track around 7 when I wondered if it was the noun or the verb I was supposed to be counting. A few steps later (nouns) I came upon some descenders and I asked if I was almost there. That made their day and possibly their lives, judging by their screaming hysteria.

Here is the staircase.

Luckily there are a few rest stops along the way to the top. The stairs get more and more narrow and I think a bit steeper as you ascend. A few rooms branch off the stairs and you can sit your ass down and remember you gave yourself asthma and TB just two days ago.

By the time I got do the top I had stripped off both my sweatshirt and my blouse and was wearing my undershirt as an outer shirt and did not care. Everyone else kept their jackets on because they are pod people.

Here I am enjoying the view from the top/dying.

My hair is out of control, makeup long ago sweated off, and I can’t feel the lower half of my body. Look at me at the train station. Now look at me at the top of the Belfry. Don’t tell me exercise is healthy.

Here is the other view you might be interested in.

I took several more but they are pretty similar. Reddish tile roofs coming up to a jaunty point. Charming and picturesque. Like I used to be back at the train station. One thing I didn’t read about beforehand was that there are arrows carved along the outer molding indicating where other cities are.

Now I know which way to go to get to Klemskerke.

I was able to descend the stairs without much incident other than telling all the people I passed they were almost there. An older gentleman responded with “I can’t tell if you are an angel or a devil.” Another good subtitle for my autobiography.

After that, my legs had turned to pudding, so I rolled into a tea room for a steak and some booze. The food was great, though remind me not to sit down to a meal if I’m in a hurry.

I didn’t feel like doing a lot more walking. I have TB, after all, and jello for joints, so I decided to save the museum for tomorrow. I did see the outside of St. Salvator’s Cathedral, but as per usual I couldn’t find the door to get inside. Here is a lovely crucifixion statue on the outside.

Oh, and in case you are wondering what shoes to wear here, I took a picture of the most flat and walk-friendly sidewalk I’ve encountered so far (other than the people movers–more of those, please).

(PS I have not forgotten the DEMON, but I saw no signs today)

(PPS I am reading The Stand, Europe Through the Back Door, and How to Not Be Wrong: The Power of Mathematical Thinking)

Epic throwdown, pt 2

By now I am wary of the rail way and could not make myself get up early and go back to the station to deal with getting the tickets for the next parts of my trip. My body said no. So I slept in, relatively, and then bought a two-day pass for Barcelona City Tours. The 13th stop on the tour was the train station, and I almost got off but decided the ticket counter was probably on siesta anyway. So I completed the western tour of the city, including notable locations such as a bunch of stuff from when the Olympics were in Barcelona, a soccer stadium, and some really epic statues. My favorite was of Columbus, who is raising his hand as if to say, what, like it’s hard? He’s such a dick. Love him.

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After finishing the loop I went the mercado and got a salad. I brought it back to my room and crunched it down, though truth be told it was very hot in my room and without ranch dressing a salad is a fight to eat. I decided that, as it’s Friday, I should find the ticketing office today just in case they are closed on the weekends. I found the information booth more easily this time and gave up completely on asking about “Eurail” and instead said “long distance.” This helped a bit, though I still had to wait in line to ask where to wait in line. Such is travelling without prebooked reservations–

–however, after my number had been called I was told that I could get a ticket from Barcelona to Narbonne, France, but not the intended transfer from Narbonne to my destination, Bordeaux. Why? Because the French train workers are on strike. Why? I asked the clerk at the Barcelona station. He looked at God and said, “France.”

France, you are now my enemy. This is worse than the time Anthony Bourdain said he didn’t like chicken nuggets. Outrageous.

Sources close to my heart hope that the strike will end soon because it also involves the garbage company. Lil Bro texted me with “just take a taxi.”

Let me google that for you, Lil Bro:

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So I have a ticket to the south of France and then… ? Not sure what to tell my Airbnb in Bordeaux. “Hi, I’d love to keep my prepaid reservation, but your country’s trains aren’t running until question mark, sorry”?

And what about, I don’t know, the rest of my stops?

I’m not thrilled at not having plans, especially now when it is clearly not my own fault. That salad has been doing the salsa in my stomach. I continued reading Rick Steves’ guidebook to distract me, but he lets this bomb loose: “Make yourself an extrovert, even if you’re not.” Get out of my comfort zone, huh? Is 9000 kilometers still not enough?

Here is a pretty picture of the Placa Catalunya to remind myself that this should be fun:

These fountains do tricks.

Tomorrow I’m going to a museum and a beach for realsies, not just looking at them from a bus. Take that, Rick Steves.

“Out of your vulnerabilities will come your strength.” Siggy Freud.

En route

So far so good except for both my bag and my body failing the security test and requiring further investigating, almost falling asleep on the plane only to be awakened by a baby who suddenly realized it’s still a baby, and walking a few miles around the Dublin airport before sitting under the flickering light of the boarding display in despair. One bright light was a security lady who said “Just go wait at the pub then!” and shooed me away. This lady is an angel.

I did find my gate, though. Not to worry. I wasn’t reading the subtext:
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A few other delights happened, like my hair getting caught in a nightmare of accordion action on the boarding tunnel (how? what? how? three excellent questions), which I think gave me whiplash; a teenage boy standing over me in the aisle casually looking down my dress until I asked him about his SAT score; and Ian, who sold me a smoothy at the Dublin airport and then asked if I wanted a smoke break.

Other than eating beef stew airplane food and a lack of sleep the likes of which I have not dealt with since grad school, all is well.

Bu there are sill miles to go before I sleep.

Category: sleep