Unlike it's creepy name sake, this post is about kind people, not who murder, but who help in other ways. Today we (read Sarah) decided that it would be fun to go to Copenhagen, Denmark for lunch. "The train only takes 40 minutes", I said. Well, the train took most of an hour and leaves you stranded in between an amusement park and MacDonalds ( I exaggerate slightly about the lack of other chain restaurants like Burger King, 7-Eleven, etc. ). We had struggled slightly at the train station to get tickets. The choices were whether we'd like to travel by ferry or over the bridge. There was no mention of a train. After standing in line for an interminable amount of time equal approximately to limbo, we were able to chat with a very amiable gal with excellent English who sold us a JoJo card and a bubble return and said there's your train just outside the window of the ticket office. We hopped the train and arrived in Copenhagen around an hour later. Copenhagen is a cyclists paradise. Not a pedestrian paradise. There isn't even one of their much touted City cycles stations beside the train station... they seem to be for locals only. Add to that the fact you must pay (another different country... another kind of money) to use the station toilet and I was a bit put off.
I was won over by the locals however. When we finally stopped in at the mission objective (the Copenhagen Red Cross Charity shop) the wonderful assistants and shoppers really made me warm to Copenhagen. We'd attempted to change our remaining British Pounds for Denmark Kroner, but after waiting in line for 20 minutes gave it up as a bad omen. When I spotted our mission objective (secret to the rest of the squad, aka Christopher until our imminent arrival) I was somewhat reticent to commit to anything for fear of rejection at the till. When I finally decided I had to have the faux pearl earrings to go with my real pearl necklace the lovely gal at the till decided to give them to me rather than incur the debt of the credit card companies. When she discovered it was our first 2 hours in Denmark (let alone Copenhagen) she dug out a map and told us about all the best locations. A fellow customer (I use customer in the loosest sense) weighed in and informed of the wonders to be had in other parts, more isolated from the hubbub of tourists. All in all, I must recommend the Copenhagen Red Cross Charity Shop to everyone who finds themselves at a loose end in Copenhagen... their wares are well presented and curated and the staff and fellow shoppers are of the highest calibre.
What about the strangers on the train you ask? Well, after stumbling upon a decent Mexican place (where the bar maid made excellent cocktails (try spelling that after a few)), we made our swift way back to the train station in an effort to get home to let the dog out for a pee. Much to my consternation, it was impossible to discern which train, and which track would host a train which would return us to Lund, Sweden. Standing in front of a computer read out which at least had a Swedish destination (Goteburg) and mumbling to myself in an audible fashion, a very kind woman asked us in excellent English where we wanted to go. She then clued us in to the secrets of Scandinavian trains. First you must know the ultimate destination of your train. Those to Sweden either ended at the Copenhagen (aka Danish) airport, or continued on. Those which would continue on generally left from track 5 or 6. Then, in addition to the track, the letter denoted those cars of the train which would stop at our destination (Lund) In the end, the kindness of strangers got us home. We'd never had identified the correct train, let alone the correct track and correct car. The kindness of strangers got us on the train.
The strangers on the train got us home. Our train stopped, inexplicably to us, one station away from our original departure station. Inexplicable because the lovely voiced multilingual conductor/engineer had departed and a surly Swedish/Danish announcer informed us of the dire news. We'd been happily chatting away to a Swiss gal who had come on the train at an earlier stop and was heading for the University of Holigner (SP?). While Swedes haven't struck us as demonstrative, they are informative. After a few inquisitive looks at my seat-mate, he informed us that our train (one stop away from Lund, our temporary home) lacked a driver, but the train on the platform opposite was headed for Lund and did have a driver. Toute Suite we hot footed over to the other train.
People are tall here in Scandinavia. They are acquainted with short people, so there are two steps for the short, one step for the tall. I didn't catch that. What I did catch was about an inch of the step for the tall. Luckily I righted myself without injury, and had a good laugh with the 2 meter tall specimen in the seat opposite. Let me not disclose how much of my thigh was exposed in this little incident. I maintain that I would have made that last inch if not for the slit in my dress being inconveniently (decently) short. Christopher quietly slid into a seat without incident - sigh.
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