Where would I be without her?

I’ve been feeling dizzy and nauseous for the past two days, but today it kinda got worse. When I was walking to the bus stop from Engelska Parken Campus I felt like my body was moving to the side, when my legs were actually moving forward. For a moment, I thought, I’m gonna faint right there. There was a spark in my head that went down the throat, right to the stomach where I felt a sharp pain. I know there’s nothing wrong with my body, I kept repeating to myself there’s nothing wrong with my body, even though the pain became inevitable. I paused for a while, took a deep breath and continued walking to the bus stop. I continued with my daily life. She taught me that technic, that magic (to heal oneself instantly), though unintentionally. She taught me how to ignore the forces/barriers, internal and external, that stop you from getting what you want, or going where you want. She taught me how to survive, in any place, at any time, when/where you desperately feel that you can’t take it anymore. She taught me my home is nowhere, as much as it is everywhere. I often wonder where would I be without her..
(From my journal, November 16, 2011)

It’s 3 months already, since I arrived in Uppsala. Again and again, I can’t help feeling amazed at how easily our mind adapts itself to new places. Every time I travel somewhere and return back to Uppsala, I feel so connected to the town when I get off the train and walk out of the station. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe not everyone. I’ve known people who have been living in Toronto for years, for some 20 or 30 years (longer than the years they had spent in Sri Lanka), and still do not feel comfortable, still overwhelmed with the temporariness of their being in that place/space. But I was indeed different. It was in Toronto that I realized I can quite easily adapt to new environments, with fewer traumas/struggles. I arrived alone at Toronto Pearson Airport on July 2008, with only a luggage and some 50 Canadian dollars in hand. At the age of 19, it was my first journey too far away from home.., and I wasn’t quite sure if I would ever return in the near future. Even though I was alone, afraid, and anxiety took over me, I survived, of course, with the help of some kind-hearted people.

Adapting is, I think, way more personal. It was a different experience when I came to Sweden. This time, I had enough money (I later realized how powerful money can be when we’re travelling, it can get us into trouble, at the same time, can also get us out of trouble) and credit card (!?), but the bad side was – I didn’t know Swedish so I couldn’t read any signs or any instructions on bus stops, ticket machines, or pay phones. This time, I was very organized and planned out things way ahead (which is sooo out of my nature). I applied for housing as early as possible, figured out how to set up internet with my contact person, bought a second-hand unlocked phone, made a list of the things I have to do during the very first days, and the things I need to buy. I also read tons of information about shopping for groceries, bus passes, banking and other practical issues on the student union’s web page. However, things don’t usually happen according to our plans. Life doesn’t follow our schedule. It has its own plans. I had no one to receive me at the airport in Stockholm, and had to drag two heavy suitcases at late night to find a taxi and to get to my room. There was a nice friend (actually she was my friend’s, friend’s, friend) who picked up the room keys for me and handed them over that late night. I would always be grateful to her. In my room that night, I had nothing to eat. I haven’t eaten anything after the lunch I had at Keflavik airport. I went to bed with an empty stomach. This, wasn’t in my plan!

In the morning, I totally forgot about the breakfast, but rushed to meet my contact person at the international office. I dressed and came out of my room, but had no idea where to go. There was a slope behind our building and I remembered the friend who dropped the keys mentioning about some bus stop down the slope. I walked down, found the bus stop, asked people around if they know how to get to the international office. And there was a girl who was also going there. I stayed close to her and asked her about how to get the bus tickets, but she didn’t know much since she was also an international student. Then there was another girl who told me that I could buy bus passes at the convenience store nearby. And I rushed to the store to buy a monthly pass. I stick with the girl who’s going to the international office and finally met my contact person. She was a wonderful lady, thoughtful and supportive like many other staffs I found at the university. She handed me the welcome package with a mobile SIM and password to connect internet from my room. I walked around the town the whole day with a map, familiarizing myself with the place. I should say, (I’m quite proud of this myself), that I can read/follow maps very well, and I have extraordinary memory when it comes to identifying, or getting used to new places. I just need to get around once, the next day, I could easily track the streets, identify the bus stops, and walk around as if I had been there forever. But I should also admit that Min is so much better than me in following maps and finding places (I thought I was good:-().

The same day, before returning to my room, out of the 13 nations, I randomly picked a nation that was closer to where I was walking, and applied for membership (which I knew I must do sometime sooner.. doing prior research about the place do come in handy at times). Then I had to return home, to Flogsta, but I didn’t know how to get back. I asked the staff at the nation, and while he was explaining to me, two students who overheard our conversation offered to help me since they were also going back to Flogsta. Again, I stayed closer to them and safely arrived back. It was then I realized that I haven’t eaten anything the whole day. The energy I gained from the lunch I had the previous day was already gone, but my mind was too busy that I didn’t pay attention to my body. Fortunately, there’s a supermarket right there in the Flogsta centrum, where I bought some fruits, bread, and butter and returned to my room. Oh, and I also added some money to the Swedish pre-paid SIM card that I got for free from the university. Figuring out the internet connection and phone was the first and foremost thing I wanted to do when I arrived here. Yep, I can survive without food but not without internet/phone. So.., that’s pretty much how I spent my first day in Uppsala, exactly 3 months ago.

Anyways, about adapting to new places.. I think it was the way I was brought up. Our family is quite strange. The relationship we have with each other is stranger. It’s never too sentimental. We are not too attached to each other. We are well aware of our individuality within the unit that’s called a family. We have our own things, own preferences. It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss my parents or miss the fights and fun I had with my brother or sister. It doesn’t mean that I don’t feel sad, or cry when departing them. I still remember the sickening feeling I had when leaving London and akka, few months ago. I missed her the most, when I was trying to adjust to the new life in Toronto. I wanted her to stand by me and say that I’m doing the right thing. Because I wasn’t so sure myself. She never takes decisions for me, but she has always been there, even when I did stupid things and had to face the consequences.. She was always there. And there’s also another woman who I remember every time I get distressed. The extraordinarily strong, courageous woman I call 'amma'. Since my early teenages, I so wished I could be like her, so daring and so bold. She taught me how to be strong, independent, how to ignore the barriers and always do whatever I want. She never taught me how to cook, clean, or to be a nice obedient girl. Preparing me to be a good, responsible ‘wife’ was never in her agenda, that I’m definitely sure. I remember her mentioning once, when I was growing up, that she does not want us to be like her, that she does not want us to get trapped in family life and responsibilities.

All I could say is that she’s not a typical mother one would see in movies, dramas or read in poems, stories. She’s not the kind who would dedicate her whole life for her kids or husband. She’s very conscious about her own life, her own friends, and her own time. The amma I know loves international movies, the Ingmar Bergman kind of movies! We go to the international film festivals together in Colombo. It kinda feels strange to think back now that I did hang out with my mom at many movies, but it was indeed very fun. We did discuss the issues and things on our way back home. Once, there was a Russian film festival organized by the Russian Cultural Centre, and she wanted me to accompany her even though I had my math final exams the next day. The Russian cultural centre is situated in the high security zone of Colombo, with checkpoints and armies everywhere along the roads. Since she cannot speak Sinhala fluently to communicate with the armies, and since the show ends at late night, she preferred to take me with her. When I had an exam! I went anyway. What’s there to study for a math exam? And I’m not a person who studies at the last minute. Even in Toronto, I’m used to watching movies or hanging out the day before the exam. It reduces the tension (a psychological excuse!). And there was also this film screening and discussion organized by ‘Nihari’ on every Full moon poya day (Full moon day is a public holiday in Sri Lanka, yeah every month). We never missed it. If it’s a full moon day, we all know that amma won’t cook, the dinner’s gonna be a take-out, since she’ll be (me too) at the movie screening.

The amma I know is a traveler. I think I inherited the passion to travel from her genes. During the school breaks, 3-times a year, we travel somewhere within Sri Lanka together. Appa is not much into travelling. He is kind of a person who wants firm roots under his feet. He doesn’t like to move to new places, new houses, or travel. But we try to drag him along with us because he is our treasury :-) Well, somebody has to pay for the tours! When amma started to work and receive income, we sometimes traveled without him, he voluntarily stays behind. Amma is interested in Hindu and Buddhist temples and their architecture. I think she was learning some archaeology during her teacher’s training and was excited to visit the places she studied. We once visited the 7 (or is it 9?) prominent Buddhist monasteries surrounding the town of Anuradhapura, climbed a hill covered with thick forest in Kandy to get to a nearly-abandoned Murugan temple (I have no idea from where she heard about it, but it was rather a very small, old temple), got lost in some remote village in Jaffna and stayed in the small huts with a family of estate workers in some rubber estate in South Eastern Sri Lanka. We also visited one of amma’s childhood friends who has been teaching in Nawalapitiya (a beautiful town surrounded by rich, green hills), well again, got lost and had a hard time finding our way to the town. It’s still amazing to think that she traveled everywhere, dragging 3 kids along with her.

Maybe it’s not so surprising, since she’s the same woman who wanted to continue her higher education after having 3 kids (which is not very common as far as I know, among the women of her age). I was 8 or 9 then, and my younger brother was only 4 years old. She finished the training school and soon became a teacher in an underprivileged school in Colombo (This year, she received the ‘best teacher’ award, because for the first time in their school history five of her students have passed the Grade 5 scholarship exam. At least now they recognized the extra time and energy she dedicates to her school and students, which took her away from us). It was not as easy as it sounds. In Colombo, she had no support from the extended family for babysitting or for other practical things, there was nobody, not even our dad, who was never home. He was too busy with developing his career and involving in additional social services (as my mom puts it). And as far as I can remember, there were no proper day care centres in Colombo at that time, even if there were any, probably they were too expensive and unaffordable. She managed everything on her own. I don’t remember how she did it or what she went through, but in the end, I think we all turned out to be alright. We learned to be alone and manage our own things from a very early age.

There’s this one day that I still clearly remember. I was probably 4 or 5 then. I’m not sure how old I was but definitely before I was 6, because we moved to a new house when I was 6. I don’t know where akka and appa was that day. Maybe they were in school. I was asleep that afternoon. So when amma had to go for shopping, she took my baby brother and left me alone at home and locked the door outside. Maybe she thought she would come back soon. And maybe she knew that I’m heck of a sleepyhead (I didn’t change much, even after some 17 years). But strangely, somehow, I woke up in the middle, and was really terrified to find myself alone in the house. The house was dark, it was an early evening, and I couldn’t reach the switch to turn on the lights. I was afraid of the dark but what scared me most was when I found out the door was locked outside. I stood by the window, climbed on a chair to get closer to the window, and cried myself out. I don’t know for how long I stood there crying, but it took a while before amma returned home. I don’t remember what happened after she got home but I’m pretty sure she felt very bad. She never left me alone at home since then. Things didn’t get much better even when she took me with her for shopping. Since she is very health-conscious, she always buys fresh meat/fish, never frozen. For some reason, she never wanted me to come inside the fish/meat market, where they slaughter chickens and all kinds of animals. So she usually asks me to stay at the entrance, watch out for the bags of groceries, and goes inside alone. I hated waiting at the entrance of a super busy meat market alone with grocery bags. I was just a kid, only 8 or 9 years old and it takes her forever to come back.

Anyways, the outcome of all this is that we learned to be on our own, not depending on someone for the very basic things. I think my brother started learning things at a very early age compared to me. He could make perfectly awesome rottis and omelet when he was just 9 or 10. If he was in a good mood, and making rottis, my sister and I would line up in the kitchen to taste them hot from the stove. They were so DELICIOUS, that you can eat them without any side dishes! I’m not exaggerating.., not a bit. He is very close to mom than me or my sister, and picked up many of her techniques. Our mom used to say that the older girls are good for nothing because we don’t usually help her out in the kitchen, but our brother does and keeps her company. Well, not that I was bad. I started hand-washing (we didn’t have a washing machine) my clothes when I was 9 or 10, I guess. Sometimes, akka sneaks her clothes in my bucket, and there were times when I accidentally washed hers too. But then I found out and started carefully inspecting the clothes before washing them:-)

I don’t know why I recollect all these memories now.., maybe I was feeling very melancholic and nostalgic. Maybe there’s something in me that wants to say “I’m sorry”, for the things I’ve done/haven’t done.. Maybe I just want her to know that I can now understand her more than I ever did. I do wish that someday I could take her to the places she wanted to visit, the architectural excellences, the beaches, hills, valleys and waterfalls.. I wish there would come a day when she need not count the prices three times in her head before buying groceries. I also wish that someday, someday in the near future, she would call me once, just once, and realize that I’m not as strong as she thinks I am.

Where would I be without you, amma?

In Search of the Lighthouse Keeper’s Residence

Part 2

Well, I think everything depends on where, how and with what one grows up.. I grew up in a not-so-safe neighbourhood (at least it was considered so by parents who have young daughters) in Colombo, where I spent all my teenage years, up until I was 19. I remember, some of my friends were not allowed to visit my place, and even if they did so, they were strongly advised by their parents to take an auto (three-wheel taxi), not bus and NEVER walking. Though I personally never felt unsafe, there were reasons for some to fear. There were slums along the railroad right next to the street where I lived, and these slums were full of drug dealers (the term used by our mom to refer these guys, ‘kudukaaran’ always amused us, since ‘kudu’ is a Sinhala word for some kind of narcotic, and ‘kaaran’ is a Tamil preposition which means anyone/the actor doing or using) and all sorts of people. Since the age of 13, I travelled within the city on my own (without anyone accompanying me, and that’s in a sense, an unimaginable thing for some families, even today) and of course I had to pass these slums every time I walk out of the door.

Unlike others, my parents never worried too much about the neighbourhood, but whenever I had to return home late in the evening they always ask me to take the bus, and not to walk through the deserted roads. But I hated the bus. Bus number 155 is the only bus that goes through our neighbourhood, well, there was also 167 but for some reason it doesn’t run so often, and it completely stopped some years back. One of the main reasons why I hate 155 is that, it’s always highly crowded (especially during peak times), crowded in a sense that sometimes, you won’t have enough space to land both your feet, and there were times when I had to stand on my toes. The crowd will push you, crush you, squeeze you, and that’s also a good opportunity for many to physically abuse girls. One could never tell the difference, if a guy crushing you is doing that intentionally or if he’s really helpless. There were times when I got really mad, I was trying to resist, to yell back, but things always flipped back at me. People point their fingers at you, you you’re a girl, you’re not supposed to be here, at this time, at this place, it’s YOUR fault! Like the guys are all innocent babies, and like I’m the one trying to provoke them.

But then, there are nice people too, most often grannies who come to your rescue, who sometimes offer their seats even if they can’t stand for too long. But I hated the bus because I have always been very conscious of my physical space, I hate anybody who violates that space. So instead, I choose to walk home, even though it’s quite late. The roads will be deserted except for some guys drinking, or doing whatever in the corners, and not all the streets have adequate lights. But still I preferred to walk. I used to lie to my parents that I did take the bus, when I was actually walking home. And I buy wild berries and acharu from roadside sellers with the money amma gave for bus tickets, and enjoy my walk back home. Of course, I do encounter ‘kudukaarankal’ and drunken men along the road, but they usually mind their own businesses and I mind mine. It was during one of these walks back home at late night, I wrote the poem “இரவின் தடங்கள்” (I was 15 or 16 back then), which depicts a girl walking alone in the dark, the footsteps she hear in the distance, and the confusing feelings the darkness arouse in her. (The link for that poem: http://rekupthi.blogspot.com/2006/10/blog-post_16.html)

Thus, I grew up with all these paranoia towards strangers, slums, the darkness, the deserted streets, and men, especially MEN. We grew up with stories, stories of girls being abused in the hands of strange, poor, alcoholics and drug addicts. But through my experiences, I kinda hated the professionally well-dressed, decent-looking, middle-aged men travelling in the bus more than the others. But then, in one way or the other, all these are highly stereotyped prejudices with which I, as a girl, grew up. Though I am too far away from Colombo right now, I still can’t ignore these feelings, the fears, and the anxiety which keep shadowing me, no matter if I was travelling in some remote village in Denmark, or a populated city in Estonia. They follow me everywhere.

It’s with this background one should understand the things we’ve been through in Denmark. Done with flashbacks, let me go back to the Skåne (Oh, I learned from Min that the southern part of Sweden is called Skåne region because it was under the Danish kingdom for a long time) and Denmark Trip. So we made a mistake when booking the hostel in Copenhagen. Well, it was not actually our fault since the hostel we booked was listed under Copenhagen, while it was actually an hour and half away (by train) from the city. We found out the night before and it was too late to cancel the booking. I kinda liked that place and really wanted to go there even though it was quite far, mainly because the hostel is in the suburbs of a coastal town lying in the northernmost shores of Denmark. And the hostel is actually a renovated building from 17th century, and formerly was the residence of lighthouse keepers. There’s a lighthouse right next to it. The town is called Gilleleje but this lighthouse keeper’s residence is actually situated in the suburbs of the town, near Staeremosen, which is quite a remote area.

It was a late autumn evening.. In Northern Europe even as early as October the sun will set around 4 or 5pm. We left Copenhagen central station at about 4.30pm, headed towards Gilleleje, since we did not want to arrive at the town too late. We had to make a transfer at another station, and we had a hard time finding the right train. The details we had in our hand (the name of the town/train) didn’t match with the names on the screen. It was not a big station; there were only 3 or 4 platforms, but even the people we asked were not very sure and confused us even more. A lady finally pointed out a platform. There was a young guy, in his late teenages or maybe early 20’s, standing next to her and was listening to our conversation. And after a while, when the train arrived at the platform and we were ready to get into it, he came rushing towards us and told us that this is not the right train but the one on the opposite platform. And he ran away! We were really confused. The train will depart in few minutes. We rushed to the next platform, got into the train, and asked an old guy if this train will go to Staeremosen. But he pointed out to the other train. So we ran back again to the previous platform. It was heck of a day, with lots of running. Some hours back, on the same day in Malmo, we ran through the main streets of the city to get to the central station because we were late for our train, then we rushed up and down the stairs at Copenhagen station to catch the other train. And here again. All with 7kg heavy backpacks.

So we finally got into the train, and the train went on and on, through the woods, through remote landscapes, far away from the cities. It wasn’t even 6pm but the sky was already dark and felt like 9 or 10 at night. Then our train finally stopped at Staeremosen station. Well, I wouldn’t call it a station. It was just a platform. And there was also a bench with a roof and that’s it. Nothing else. Only 6 people got off at that station including the two of us. Though it was pitch dark we were a little confident since we had directions in our hand. But all our confidence gave up on us when we got off the train. The direction started off like this: “walk towards southeast and continue on … street”. Okej, but we didn’t even know where the south or where the east is, and how the heck we’re supposed to find the southeast? There were no streets as far as our eyes could see in that dark. We had a clever idea. We decided to follow the people who got off the train with us. There was a young guy, who disappeared somewhere soon after we got off. And there were another three people, walking together in front of us, two men and a girl. We followed them for a while, with the hope that they would lead us to some street, so we could continue on our own.

But no, they were walking on a narrow path, which we couldn’t consider a street, because it was going through the fields. There were bushes and trees on either side, and it was not even a tar road. We decided it’s better to ask them. We ran towards them, explained our situation, only to learn that they don’t understand a single word in English. And we didn’t know a single word in Danish. Though both Swedish and Danish languages are so much similar, our basic Swedish didn’t help us there. We employed all forms of communication, actions, gestures, but no help. They didn’t know the street we were looking for, maybe they just didn’t understand our accent, or the way we pronounced the name of the street. I even showed them the printed address of our hostel, but they didn’t know it either. They were feeling terribly bad for not being able to help us. Though we didn’t understand a single word, it was apparent on their face. Feeling bad to trouble them, Min and I decided to search the street on our own. We departed, and walked in the opposite direction.

Fortunately, after sometime, we were able to find a big street (not that it was really big, but comparatively, since at least it’s big enough for vehicles). It was easy to follow the directions once we found the first street. Actually, the directions were meant for cars, which we found out later, since they took us right to a highway with no pedestrian walk. It was a strange experience walking on the highway for approximately 3 kilometres. Well, not walking, more precisely, running.. It scared the hell out of me, because it’s a perfect and typical setting we see in any horror movie. A two-lane highway with no single street light, with woods on both sides, and a heavy fog veiling the sight. The woods looked so creepy with the mist. Poor visibility, no street lights and no pedestrian walk mean the vehicles can’t see us and can easily hit and run. But I wasn’t afraid of death, no, not a bit. And I cared the least about the thieves, we had nothing precious with us. Rather, it was the fear of a lonely girl on the road. Technically, I wasn’t alone, Min was there, we had each other. Yet, I couldn’t help that inert fear.

We ran on that fog covered highway, with the help of our phone lights, and ONLY phone lights. There were vehicles passing once in a while, so whenever we saw a vehicle in the distance, we jumped to the side, on to the bush or woods.. The fog that evening was very thick that even if I walked a few steps away from Min, I feared I might not be able to see her. And Min took her hood off even though it was damn cold, because she said she might not hear me with the hood covering her head. The highway, and woods covered with heavy mist reminded me all the horror/ghost movies I’ve watched so far (Count in ‘I know what you did last summer’, ‘The motel’, ‘Gothika’, and many more). On a normal day, I’m not usually a very chatty person, but I was jabbering non-stop that night, all along the highway, to hide my fear.

Finally, we found the road – Fyrvejen, we’ve been looking for the whole evening. The lighthouse was situated in the shore, at the very end of that road, almost 500m away from the highway. Not to mention that the road was also very creepy, with mist covered fields on both sides. We noticed the light of the lighthouse and kept following it. After 200 or so metres, we came across a building, that somewhat looked like a hostel, and we tried to go in just to make sure we’re on the right road. But then, there came a dog barking at us, and it was not chained. That’s it. We turned back and started running again; we didn’t stop until we were sure that the dog is not following us. Heck of a day! Anyways, at the far end of the road, we finally found our hostel. We were so relieved to arrive there alas! What strange experiences or feelings journeys can bring to us? The day before, we were so happy and proud that we saw many places in a single day. But today, we are simply excited that we finally found the lighthouse keeper’s residence.

Well, the story didn’t end there. But I don’t want to drag it anymore. I’ll just sum it up in a few sentences. Upon our arrival, we found out that the hostel is rather a private house, and we were the only guests on that night. The only other person who lives there is our host – the housekeeper, a ‘middle-aged’ guy! And to make things worse, our room did not have a lock!! I think he understood our paranoia. It was so apparent on our face, we were terrified.. How can he not understand that? He left us alone that night.

However, our room was rather nice and cozy. It was worth all the trouble. Sitting in the room next to us, Min and I had some coffee and tea with bread and cookies. The warm drink down our throat was soothing our body and mind. We sat there talking and talking for hours. We laughed until our stomach hurts, until we had tears. We laughed for no specific reason but it helped to clear the tension. In a way, we were proud of ourselves for we didn’t freak out; we found the hostel at last, even though we were dead scared, and had to run along the highway without any proper lights. It was then I realized how strange life is. There we were, Min and I – who grew up in different parts of the world, meeting each other in some other corner (well, in Uppsala), travelling together just to get lost in a remote Danish coastal town. On that day, on that evening, in the remote suburbs of Gilleleje, I grew so fond of her. I wondered how different every single day can be, what strange things it can bring to us, and how our moods and feelings differ from day to day. I wondered what tomorrow will bring us..

And that’s how we celebrated our Halloween 2011!!

In search of the lighthouse keeper’s residence

Part 1

It all started when Min had to see a naked guy in the corridor of the youth hostel we stayed in Göteborg. You know how they say, what you see in the early morning when you wake up, determines how the rest of your day gonna be.. Alas, this superstition turned out to be true, in our case. Weird things happened to us along our journey, the whole day! There were these two country men, one man with crooked front teeth and his companion, a short man carrying a lantern in one hand and charcoal in the other. They were actually really nice country folks who tried to help two poor young girls who got lost.. But the funny thing was, how we communicated with each other, they didn’t know a single word in English, and we, with zero knowledge of Danish. Oh, and the guys with white jumpsuits (is it how you call the full-body suits, similar to what the fire fighters wear?).. Since we got off the train in Copenhagen, we saw so many young guys in white n white.. Something was going on, we didn’t know what, but it was indeed a funny sight! Also, there was this guy at the station who confused us and asked us to get on the wrong train, and then suddenly ran away. Thank goodness, we didn’t listen to him, we rechecked with another man and finally got into the right train. It was rather a wicked day, Min and I celebrated Halloween in a strange way that no one would’ve ever imagined. Well, not that we expected it either 

Okej, maybe I should start from the beginning. Min (an exchange student from Seoul University, Korea) and I planned to travel to two of the southern cities in Sweden, Göteborg and Malmö, and along the way, decided to cross the Öresund Bridge that connects Southern Sweden and Denmark, and to spend a day or two in Copenhagen as well. It’s not the first time we backpack together. We’ve been to central, or more precisely, north central region of Sweden the previous week. The region Dalarna, and the towns (or rather village) we visited, Mora and Nusnäs were famous for the handcrafted wooden horses that are referred to as the ‘symbol of Sweden’. Nothing adventurous happened on that journey except that one time when we missed the last bus from Nusnäs to Mora and had to hitchhike to get to the nearest town.

But this time, it was different. I should say I was never scared this much in my whole life.. So, let me start from the beginning.. On last Friday, 28th of October, Min and I started our 3-day backpacking tour passing through 3 main cities in Southern Sweden and Denmark. Well, also this coastal town in the northern-most point of Denmark, but I’ll come to that a little later. We took an early morning train from Uppsala to Stockholm central station and transferred to another train that goes to Göteborg. The whole journey took around 4 to 5 hours. Göteborg is indeed a beautiful city. It lies in the western coast of Sweden, and also has a popular port. We visited some museums in the city. The best one was the Maritiman – some docked warships turned into a museum, where we were allowed to get into a submarine that is still floating in the water! We also walked along the main streets, had fika (that is, a coffee break) at a small café in the seventeenth century town called ‘Haga’, and climbed on a hill to see the night view from a medieval tower/fortress called ‘Skansen Kronan’.

We are two poor backpackers, so we brought our own food (bread, cheese, butter, nutella, apples and bananas) and stayed in very cheap youth hostels, sharing bunk beds. I was glad that Min preferred to sleep on the upper part of the bunk bed, since I am terrified about sleeping so high above the ground. During the whole tour that lasted for more than 3 whole days, we ate bread with cheese/nutella for all 3 meals, except for that one lunch we had at a restaurant in Nyhavn, Copenhagen.

Everything was perfectly fine the first day in Göteborg. Though we were heck tired walking in and around, back and forth through the whole city, carrying heavy backpacks, we were still so happy and proud that we got to see many places in a single day. The youth hostel we stayed in was warm and cozy. We had our own private room, even though we had to share washrooms and showers with all the other guests. The next morning, on Saturday, we had to take an early train from Göteborg to Malmö, so we set up our alarms and decided to wake up around 5.30 in the morning. Well, I have to stress that I sacrifice my sleep, and wake up early in the morning, only for the sake of travelling, and NOT for anything else.

That morning, as always, I was too lazy to get up from the warm, cozy bed. Though awake, I was still lying in the bed and watching Min take her things and go to the bathroom. She took a step out of the door, and rushed back in with a gasp, “Oh, my god!” I was alarmed, and asked her what’s wrong.. “There’s a naked man in the corridor” – Gosh, I didn’t know how to response, to be surprised or to laugh.. Well, the only thing I know was that it’s gonna be a weird day.. I suppose, he was a guest staying in a room next to the showers and washroom, and I’m sure he didn’t expect anyone to see him that early in the morning. But anyways, our day started off like this.. And it was an early sign of what was awaiting for us the rest of the day! Well now, it doesn’t mean that we continued to see naked people along the way, it’s just the weird and unexpected things happened to us the whole day.

The weather was quite bad on Saturday. Yeah, let’s blame it on the weather. It was so misty that the train we took from Göteborg to Malmö had to stop because of poor visibility. The train stopped in a town somewhere in between Göteborg and Malmö, and we had to catch a bus from there to get to Malmö. The thing about travelling in Sweden is, all the announcements in the trains, all the signs, and names, and everything else will always be in Swedish. The only sentence they will announce in English in any intercity train is, even in any utter serious circumstance, “if you need information in English please contact our staff”. And that’s it. It’s how we missed our connecting train and had to take a bus when we were travelling in the central Sweden a week ago. But this time we were alert and asked a Swedish couple to explain what’s going on. The girl was very nice. She was translating every announcement, and helped us get into the right bus that goes directly to Malmö. The whole journey took more time than we had expected, and we were starting to worry since we had a pre-booked train that departs from Copenhagen to Stæremosen at 4.30pm (where our other youth hostel is). In order to catch that train, we should leave from Malmö to Copenhagen on time. It was rather a hectic schedule.

Though we didn’t get to spend much time in Malmö, we went to the Malmöhuset – the castle and the museum inside, and walked along the streets. I think Min liked Malmö better than Göteborg, since it was smaller than the other, and the architecture was quite old and nice. The great thing about travelling with Min is, we both share the same interests (we are after all anthropology students!!) and we always want to go to the same place. So far, the journey was wonderful and the people we met were usually very nice. Many of them offered to help us even before we asked, especially with the directions, and sometimes with buying bus tickets. Bus tickets are always complicated, the rules differ greatly from city to city: some buses don’t accept cash, some only accepts coins, and others will require you to buy tickets at some machine or a convenience store. Anyways, there are definitely some advantages for girls travelling alone. People take pity on you, and always want to help you. Min and I really enjoyed passing as poor helpless young backpackers. It usually works quite well.. We can easily get rides back to the town, we can be sure that people will definitely help us with the directions. But then there are times when being a girl on the road is not so advantageous. It was when our ‘happy journey’ turned into a ‘scary journey’.