Danish Diary no.3/Swedish Diary Special

Wow....do I have a lot to talk about!

So, Thursday was 'Museum Day.' We drove into main Københaven and saw the city itself with a drive-by tour. I'd seen most of the castles and buildings when I was younger, so instead we went to two museums: The Danish Resistance Museum and The Danish Jewish History Museum. The Danish Resistance Museum showed how the Danish government and people reacted in resistance to Hitler's Nazi occupation of Denmark during WWII. It had a lot of artifacts used by underground groups to sabatoge German operations within the country. The Danish Jewish History Museum obviously discussed Jewish History in Denmark from he 1400s to present day, and the building itself was interestingly constructed. I got to see the royal library and a little more of inner Copenhagen.

Friday was 'Traveling Day.' We took a ferry from Helsingør to Helsingborg, Sweden, and then drove the 2 hours from Helsingborg to Gothenburg (pronounced yoo-teh-bore by the locals). I was spending the Shabbat weekend with my co-worker from camp and friend, Mushky. I met her parents, 5 sisters, and 2 of her 5 brothers. Their house, the chabad house, was situated across from the park, where free music from the sommerkoncerts played from early morning to midnight. I wasn't the only person spending the weekend at the chabad house, two other families stayed there too: first, a Swedish couple who were moving to Israel with their three children, and an Israeli family consisting of a young couple, their two young sons, the husband's two sisters, and the wife's mother, who were touring Europe. This family was not your average yuppie-duppie bunch of Israelis, as I first thought. The husband's and sisters' father, mother, younger brother, and younger sister had been killed by a terrorist's suicude bomb in a Jerusalem cafe, while the two sisters suffered major burn injuries. Seeing the strength and faith of this family made me really think about my own life: wondering if I am happy, if I told the people I loved how much they mean to me, and if I appreciate life's frailty and make the most of it.
Shabbat was a memorable experience in that tiny but cozy home in Sweden, one of the most beautiful I've had.
After Shabbat, Mushky helped me book a train ticket back to Helsingborg, where I'd meet my grandparents and go back to Denmark. The direct trains were all full, so I'd have to stop and switch a few times; I was a bit nervous about doing that on my own, but Mushky reassured me that it'd go fine.

On Sunday, after the other families had left, Mushky and her sister Chava took me through the Gothernburg area, on the metro, and to the boats: where we met her family for a quick boat ride to an island before taking me to the train station.
Then it all began.
We looked at my ticket in the station, and it said I had to switch from a train to a bus in a station called 'Laholm' and then back to a train in 'Angelholm' and then get to Helsingborg. Seemed simple enough. They put me on the train, and said goodbye. The train ride was scenic and pretty, not too bumpy, and only one creepy Swedish man tried to talk to me, but I gave him a mean look and he walked away.
I got to Laholm and got off, looking for a bus. I didn't see one, so I asked a conductor where the bus would be. She told me that I didn't have to take a bus, so I hopped back on.
Then I got to Angelholm. I got off, looking for the train I was supposed to switch to, but it wasn't there. I figured it'd arrive in a few minutes, so I sat and waited. Another train came, but it didn't match the number on my ticket. I asked a conductor when a Heslingborg train would come by, and got some garbled Swedish answer.
So I waited in this seedy and scary station. There was nobody in the station, only ticket machines, and the cafe and bathrooms were closed. I figured a train would come by. So I sat for fifteen minutes, twenty minutes, a half hour, and then an hour. Night fell, I was worried, alone, cold, and I had to pee REALLY badly. I was starting to seriously freak and wonder if my family was worrying about me, and if I'd find a way back.
After a little over an hour, I heard something coming along the tracks. I was thankful to see a train, ANY train, I didn't really care where it was going. It said 'Malmo,' so I figured if I at least made it to Malmo, I'd get to a station with real people who could help me. I got on board, and looked for a conductor. Nobody was on the train except the driver. In all honesty, I was surprised because this meant that there was no way for tickets to be checked: anyone could hitch a free train ride! I looked around for a bathroom, and I thought I spotted one, but the door to the bathrooms were LOCKED! I was so frustrated, I pulled the door open in a Hulk-esque scene, and to my shock found that I hadn't forced open the door to the bathroom, but rather the pilot's room! He started screaming at me in Swedish, so I shut the doors and RAN! I'm lucky he didn't throw me off the train for acting like a terrorist! I found the actual bathroom, but the door there was also locked! Once again, I forced the doors, and was finally able to use the toilet after almost 2 hours. After that I figured that I should ask one of the other passengers where the train was stopping. I found a seat near an older woman, and asked her if she spoke English: she didn't. Through my broken Swedish, I managed to ask if the train was stopping in Helsingborg. To my amazement, she nodded yes, and I screamed for joy and hugged her! How's that for good fortune?
I made it back to my proper, where my poor grandfather was waiting at the platform (six cigarettes and five phone calls he made before I came kept him sane). We determined that my ticket coresponded to the old system during construction on the railroads, and somehow got to me through a bug in the system: I never really had to get off the train! I went home, ate, and fell asleep immediately.
For 180 Swedish Krona, I definitely had an adventure! But I'm staying away from trains until the nightmares stop...