Tuesday June 30th 2015. Flight from Düsseldorf (G) – Mo I Rana ( N), drive to Hemavan ( Sw)

Tussenstop op de verkeerde plaats in Trondheim

Changing planes at the wrong side of the airport of Trondheim

Linda, chauffeuse

Linda, who drove us from Mo I Rana (Norway) to Hemavan (Sweden)

Onze taxichauffeur Linda in Mo I Rana

Our driver Linda at Mo I Rana airport (N)

Ik achterin Linda's auto

Me in the rear of Linda’s car


Dashbord Linda’s dashbord

So much done in the week I was home. I’lllimit myself to a few events. The interlude to the Nl was meant to redeem my grandfatherhood with the birth of our youngest grandchild. Lilian and her husband Ralf got a cloud of a daughter, 3800 gr., named Amélie (accent on the last syllable). Alles blitz (everything all right). Mission Limburg was a succes. Reunion with Sonja, family and friends made the days, of course, very enjoyable.

Home I don’t find the endless forests and space of Scandinavia. I do find back our more pleasant climate, fertile fields and meadows, the lovely landscape of the valley of the Geul and the closer interaction between people, which I experience as enjoyable. Eg. Upon coming home, in the elevator in the hospital to the delivery room, someone asked me: Where do you want to go? Upon getting out of the elevator: have fun. In Scandinavia, I find the people very helpful and friendly, but you’ve got to ask them. Much more of a distance than I’m used to.
Anyway, home, like crazy I start cutting the hedges with shears, later with a machine, often above my head, dragging ladders. Playing volley that same evening. Diving for the ball, landing on the floor on both hands. Next day a few hours of cleaning out the stables. All that “der junge Bursch” (the young lad) is not used to any more. The next day pain in my chest. This I could expect after all this overdoing. The next day the pain usually was gone, but sometimes the stabbing came back in heavy attacks. One time I had to sit down because I broke sweat. Muscle pain, muscle pain, probably, but you never know if sooner or later secretly impending doom lurks behind those complaints.
Colleague Marietje wanted me to go to the hospital. But I know how that works out: we find nothing, but to be sure you better stay here. This can be a “pre-infarct syndrome,” and then roaming Lapland is replaced by getting annoyed, lying in a hospital bed. Amehoelalalala. As a compromise, Marietje and I agreed that I would be served the last rites in  the way of an ECG and blood tests. I must admit the result is not 100% sure, but O.K., I’ll do what she asks. At the slightest doubt, she would allow me to leave. ECG normal. The day after a blood test. The least heart damage, for example by an infarct causes a rise of enzymes, which are traceable in the blood. Assistant Kelly called me a few hours later. Kelly, I almost left to Lapland already. Will Sonja be a widow? Blood samples good! We know the saying about the weeds that never perish, and the comment “If they wanna kill me they should clubb me to death”. What a fuss about some muscle pain. Childish.
Early this morning I took the train to Sittard (Nl) where Han picks me up and takes me to his house in Germany in Selfkant (piece of Germany, formerly Dutch)  for breakfast at his home, with fried egg, bread and real butter and then on to the airport in Dusseldorf (G). For today predicted 30 degrees C and next weekend maybe 36 to 38 gr. In Sweden we are going to trott through the snow fields, ha ha, paddling in gletscher rivers, making coffee on a primus in the desolate wilderness, eating reindeer meat on the campfire, salmon with wild blueberries, remote bears: all naughty boys dreams.
 Tonight at 11 pm we arrive in the Norwegian Mo I Rana. Yesterday I called to Swedish Felix, who works at the gas station in Hemavan. Felix, you have brought me from Hemavan (S) to the airport in Mo I Rana (N) with the car of a friendly young lady Linda. Do you want to come and pick me up on Tuesday at 11 pm? I’ll call you back, he replies. Two weeks ago I told Felix (18 y.) who was befriended with the young Swedish Linda that I thought Linda was a very nice girl. Yes, he agreed, the most beautiful of Hemavan. Hemavan is very small, but all right, a 60- senior citizen doesn’t have his eyes on the back and an old buck, what was that again with the green leaf? Last night Felix called me back. He could not come, but the friendly young lady, Linda, with whoms car Felix had brought me to the airport 10 d. ago, would pick us up. Han, who is 12 years younger than I am, a young God, may sit in front. Honor to whom it deserves.
Makes me think of that home visit, as a docter, about 20 years ago, at Mrs. X: Doctor, come look at my vacation pictures. I just returned from vacation with my daughter Y (17 or 18) on some island in the Mediterranean. We had fun. The whole holiday allways boys around me. I looked at the photo album. Mother X, over 50, topless here, oben ohne there, and so on. Her adolescent son called from an angle of the room: doctor, hanging tits, wah! Being tactical, I confirmed nor denied that. And then we went to the airport the whole mob of guys brought me away, mother X continued. Probably, I thought, glancing at daughter Y. And therefore Han, the young prince, may sit in the front tonight next to Linda, while I can brag, that I  was picked up from the airport in Norway by the most beautiful girl of Hemavan (S).  The last two times I passed the Swedish/ Norwegian border, my drivers peed  from one country to the other. Tonight there will probably not be stopped for.  By 1 o’clock at night, which is not a night of Tuesday to Wednesday, we will arrive at our Vandrerhjem (hostel) in Hemavan (Sweden). The receptionist on the phone said: when you arrive here you go to the main entrance, which is closed, walking so and so, you see two “boxes” at the entrance of your wooden building and in one of them is the key. I hope that works, otherwise we again have to seek the assistance of our lady driver Linda. We’ll see. Tosca will be picked up tomorrow.
Checking in at Dusseldorf (G). My movie camera is encased in a PVC tube with T-shape and  in turn in packaging materials in a plastic bag. Extremely suspicious last time at the airport. Now totally not suspicious. Strange. But while I was half undressed by the scanner, another plastic bag was screened by a second security agent. I forgot to pick up the paring knife out of my sac with food. Fortunately, it turned out that a knife up to 3 or up to 6 cm., I do not remember, was allowed. The ratio is, that with a blade of 3 cm. is not so easy to cut someone’s throat. In case you want to stab some one with it may inflict some nasty wounds, but if you wanna kill someone with a 3 cm blade, you need such anatomical knowledge in order to reach the carotid artery that probably the officials have no confidence that the average terrorist is professional anough to do so. Therefore I could keep my peeler. What a relief!
 Long ago I, as a dochtor, was called one night at a hotel. A man was on a “business trip” with a “girlfriend.” At night they had quarreled and she had stabbed him a few times with a knife in his head. Once there, I met a totally drunk man , dazed in a chair, who was threatened by a voluptuous Brazilian beauty, very sparcely dressed, with a peeler in her hand. A wisp of blood dripped from his balding skull. The stab wounds on his skull were barely visible. Since then I know that if you quarrel with a girlfriend, you do not have to be afraid of a peeler. Even the customs here seemed to know that. The aftermath ?: illegal Brazilian prostitute got arrested by the police and finally deported from our country. Shame about the incident, because the exotic beauty had the potential to do much good work in the Netherlands. Soi.
 The flight went without major problems, apart from the fact that Han, length 1.95 m., was crushed between the seats, but he didn’t complain about that, obviously.
 Because we have to change twice and in between waiting, I keep myself busy writing, however stupid it is. So there was nothing to do at Trondheim airport. We wandered around a bit until we saw a sign pub/ lounge. A long story in Norwegian has been kindled against us, from which we understood that this place was not for us. I made a desperate attempt: this (Han) is the president of our country, but I think they did not understand it. Too bad, a missed opportunity for her.
It was so quiet we once again went to ask who would wait on us. Oh, we were told, you are all
wrong here. 
Having picked up our luggage, the only two pieces of luggage that still lay on the already stationary luggage
belt, we checked back in, went back through customs, where nobody was and took place under the
board gate 27. While the departure of our connection flight approached we were still waiting right
under the board. Hey, on the board of gate 27 is also a sign and an arrow of a staircase and an
elevator. We have to go down. Where the small crowd indeed was waiting.
We still arrived on time at gate 27. Really like two provincial peasants traveling. Let's hope that
beautiful Linda  awaits us in Mo I Rana. I have no phone nr. So I can't call her. Well, if you want 
to plan everything for sure, you should not make this trip.
 Sure enough, Linda was already there in the arrival hall. Photo taken at 11 pm, before the sun
is gone. ut the sun  does not go away here. Han in front.
 Between reindeer, beautiful lakes, surrounded by partially snow-capped mountains, Linda drove 
us to Hemavan and there we went into the "puce" at Fjallcenter in Hemavan.

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