Wednesday May 6th 2015. Leaving from Denmark by ferry to Oslo (Norway)

De kerk van Frederikshavn (Dk) gezien vanaf bovenste, 9e, dek v d boot Frederikshavn church, seen from upper deck De collega-ferry in Frederikshavn, die naar Gotheburg, Zweden, gaat The other ferry in Frederikshavn, going to Sweden
 Vanaf het hondendek naar achteren gefotografeerd  Picture from dogs deck backward  Omgeving Oslo vanaf boot  First views of Oslo fjord

Eerste blikken op Oslofjord Surroundings of Oslo from the boat  Tosca vindt het wel gezellig in haar hut op de boot  Tosca seems to like it in her cabin on the ferry

Last night the weather got better, after a whole day of rain. It seems that Denmark during the month of May, has an average of 9 rainy days. The last few weeks I had only one and that day, yesterday, I was comfortable in my cabin. Today in the morning, partly cloudy weather. Rudi films me packing the backpack, leaving the camping caban, boarding the ferry and Denmark is over and so is the visit of Rudi and Paulette.
After a few days without a backpack that thing weighs very much again. Do I have to drag that with me, for days, months? But after a few minutes it feels familiar and quite comfortable again.
I think of summer in 1969, I believe it was.
Just returning from a year in a family in the US and a senior year at Beachwood High School in Cleveland Ohio, I found it necessary to boost my knowledge of French. I was “moniteur” group leader in a summer camp for children from Parisian slums. The camp, the colony de vacances, was in the Hautes Pyrénées. I had a group of 10 small little bastards from Parisian slums,7 y. old, but all together in the camp were a few hundred children, with at least 20 moniteurs/monitrices, including Josianne. But that’s another story, which I leave to the imagination. On our regular mountain hike, I was always the only moniteur, who was carrying one of the kids on my neck or back. I then was in a superior shape. And despite the heat, mosquitoes and fleas, I slept like a log, but always too short. Some of the most common complaints of the children .: il a volé mes cailloux and il a volé mon escargot (he has stolen my stone or snail) . That’s what. my backpack made me think about this morning.
n the boat I have a cabin with only Tosca, I have Internet access, mini-bathroom with toilet, sink and shower, 4 beds. Perfect. Spending my last Danish kroner at breakfast in the cafeteria on one of the nine decks of the ferry, a phone call to Marieke in Norway, a little filming and c’est ca, for now.

On the sea I get an intimate text message: Welcome to the marine network. Rates that apply in this country … Am I already in Norwegian waters? And Tosca? I didn’t see customs. Seems that I have to report her, but where? As a foreigner, I’m too stupid to know. So I’ll pretend “my nose is bleeding. “Me no understand”.  What is the forecast for Norway South for the rest of the week? Tomorrow chance of precipitation 90%. Does that mean 90% chance that it will rain somewhere, or 90% chance that it’ll rain on the places where you are? Anyway not too good. Well, tomorrow I’ll be driving for at leat 7 hours to daughter Marieke, so who cares?
On the boat I have many memories and associations. To the many people and in-laws in my family that are / were emigrants. The great migration of immigrants in the US in the 1800s, my cousins in Australia, my grandfather, who 100 j. ago emigrated to Germany, and who later migrated back to the Netherlands, with his German wife, uncles and in-laws who emigrated to Canada , others who partly stem from Indonesia. My daughters in law from Peru and Danya from Canada, daughter Marieke in Norway, who I’m going to visit today. Sister from Poland. And I have not talked about Sonja’s family. On my trip I met so many people who emigrated. Do these people with? What are their motives? Are they happy with their move? Displaced? Or do they actually contribute something new to the sometimes rigid  situation in their new region/country?
Oslo fjord looks beautiful in the evening sunlight, the reflection of the sun on the water, nice colored, airy houses, in the bright spring green. The mountains on the background. Promising.
Because everything was announced only in Danish, I did not know I had to be out of the cabin at 4 am. Where  should I go with Tosca? She  wasn’t allowed anywhere. At 5 I was summoned by some lady to leave the cabin. I need 5 min. to pack everything I say. One minute later she returned with two men and summoned me again kindly, but firmly that I had to get out right now. O.k., I’m gone.

At the special dogs deck I wait with Tosca. No one else outside, still 1.5 hours before disembarkation. Customs? People who had to import something had to report to a special window. The rest could just flow out. Tosca did not report me, so we got at the shore without any control. I tied up Tosca outside and got back inside for filming for Rudi the sign Welcome to Oslo. Hey, first part of entering Norway is successful. Now walking to the station, where I had reserved a Herz-car. I got there too, after first being showed to the left and by somebody else pointed back again. The Hertz boy stuttered badly. The first two sentences I did not understand, because he was trying to conceal his stuttering. I didn’t understand a bit, so he began to stutter even harder. I had to search the car by myself somewhere in a garage.  I received various door cards for various doors in and out, along with a different explanation for each card, an explanation where the car was to be found, explanation of the gps, auto insurance, winter tires, etc., etc. And in stuttering Steccato pieces English with Norwegian accent, in 5 min. time.
Well, I finally arrived at the youth hostel and I got a place in a 6-bedded room (loft). I went for dinner, a greasy morsel, obviously at a Turkish or Italian restaurant. There on TV I could watch a steeplechase horse race.  Couldn’t get the car from the automatic brake, but with the aid of a passerby I succeded at last. Apparently, if you stop, it will automatically turn on on the handbrake. And you get it off again only by hand, if you simultaneously press the brake pedal. How could I know? And be careful that the bil (Norwegian for car, but Dutch for buttock) does not dash forward. All the fuzz already helped me to cause a little bump in the licence plate.
The only room mate who already was in the room, was a Norwegian peer. On holiday? he asked. I told him. And you? I would also like to walk, but I have stomach cancer, he said. Metastasized? Yes. Huy, not so good, I say. And we went early to roost.

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