Waking up in Trondheim

The lobby of the tiny train station was bare, but at least it was warm. After having wandered most of the tiny Swedish town finding not another human being or unlocked door, this was to be my inn for the night. The fluorescent lights shone brightly on the rows of benches that lined the walls leading up to the drawn gate to the shops inside. I would be gone before any of the shopkeepers arrived in the morning. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was mine.

Now after midnight, I knew it would be best to try to get some sleep. Bundled up in nearly every warm piece of clothing I had, I set my sleeping bag against my heavy pack on the farthest bench as a pillow. Lying like a corpse, I pulled my hat over my eyes against the harsh ceiling lights. I must have been tired because the next thing I remember was looking at the clock that read just past 5:00, less than an hour until my train. As the departure time approached, travelers and commuters trickled in to share the warmth of the lobby, all of us staring at the blank walls in a somnambulent stupor.

When I reached my next connection mid-morning, the sky was still as black as it had been when I went to sleep. Having woken up, I lost myself in various internet searches and interesting articles. While deeply entrenched in a lengthy defense of the Christ myth theory, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the black and grey morning had given way. Out the windows all around me, the fantastical scenes of the coastal Norwegian town climbing the snow-capped hills overlooking the expansive fjord streamed by in a dreamlike beauty. Each house was a  brilliant earthy color, greens and browns and yellows and reds. They each overlooked the deep blue waves that extended out to majestic blue and white mountains that rose up from the horizon.

When I reached my host’s house, I knew I should rest. She was off to work, and I had the place to myself, but the light was so wonderful and the town so incredible that I had to go explore. I’m very glad I did.


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