- On Norwegian trains, the conductors answer your questions. They do not:
a) laugh at you
b) tell you the train is full and then
c) tell you to get on anyway whilst
d) suggesting with another Swedish laugh that you sit in the luggage rack.
- On Norwegian trains one is able to buy a ticket. The conductor does not tell you his machine is broken and suggest that you get one at station where you change trains (a station in the middle of nowhere where you are informed that the train is full. see point 1.)
- On Norwegian trains, you get a seat. You also get a blanket and an eye mask and ear plugs. Simple process. As opposed to a variety of seating options none of which are clear. And when the conductor sells you a ticket on a Norwegian train you get a seat, rather than having angry Swedes and tourists kicking you out of seats. The conductor does not then inform you that your ticket was just to ‘go with the train’ rather than sit in it.
- On Norwegian trains the doors don’t try to close on you, breaking off two of your badges which you then have to search for on the dirty floor.
- On Norwegian trains, people aren’t sitting in a tiny aisle and your bag doesn’t get caught on them leading to it opening and your jar of peanut butter falling out and the lid breaking and Swedish women laughing at you as if it is your fault and NOT THEIR DAMN TRAIN’S FAULT WHICH EVIDENTLY IT IS!
It wasn’t so bad in the end. I upgraded to a cochette, or sleeping room, where there were bunks and I got a seat and then a bunk. I also met a charming Dutch single mother and her loud but cute son. When I turn my travels into a hilarious coming of age saga I think I will have the main character* have a wild affair with said Dutch woman, move to Holland, don clogs, pick her tulips and make happy. She was hot.
* Shall we call the main character May? or Eve. Not Eve. A little too biblical for a coming of age saga methinks.
A note to those judging my complaining and think I am a whinger when I have such luxury and if I were somewhere else I would get a corner of a people stuffed carriage and not a bunk near a charming Dutch woman and her loud but cute son. Please understand that if I were in a third world country or even a second world country, or even a first world country that isn’t in Scandinavia I would be a lot more patient. But this place is, like, super rich and I am paying through the nose just to breathe Scandinavian air so excuse me if I have slightly high standards.
I am tired.