Seasoned Scandinavia

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Friday, 13 August 2010

We were on the early flight from Berlin to Skavsta airport in Sweden. 4 of us up at 4; in the taxi 4:30 at Schönfeld Airport 5:15 - 2+ hours before our flight. We heard that Ryan Air had strict baggage weight policies, and previewing the weight misery of some of the passengers before us in line, did not look promising. So we were anxious when we handed our 2 bags to be checked at the counter.

Big, beautiful brown eyes dropped the verdict,“16,5 kg, sir. I’m sorry but you are allowed 15 kg for check-in luggage” Willie, like a cocked fire-arm, exploded into action: he hauled the bag off the belt, opened it, pulled out his Namibian leather “vellies”, handed it to my mom and placed the bag back on the belt in less than 40 seconds - 16 kg! “That’s fine, sir!” (Big brown eyes had 1 kg of grace tp spare )

My mom and her husband watched this lightening-speed activity, 6am in the morning, with more than blatant adoration for Willie. On our way to hand-luggage security check-in my mom whispered to me: “He did not even blink an eye, stayed calm and friendly and knew exactly what to do. I don’t know what we would have done without him! This is what you need when you’re 76 - a guide that makes you feel safe, regardless of circumstances.” I nodded - that is true! He is a seasoned traveller, an evolved seasoned traveler, BUT all seasoned travelers once started out fresh and green. You should have seen him 16 years ago, but that makes for an entirely different journal entry.

The idea of a rental car waiting for us at Skavsta, after negotiating trams, buses and metros for 3 days in Berlin made us feel comfortable before we’ve even seen it.

Touchdown! Sweden - Scandinavia! Exciting - we are finally here!

First stop: Stockholm - capital city. We arrived 12:30, tired,hot and quite ill-prepared: I am not even sure why? Usually we knew where to go, what to see etc, but we drifted along through a busy city and ended up in a parking lot/construction site overlooking the bay.

Hindsight: I should have recognized the dark clouds of misfortune gathering around us or me. Not only were we a bit disoriented, but non-decisive. “I’ll go feed the parking meter while you guys decide.” I received some Swedish Krone at the airport when I bought water, so that was a problem less for now. I looked for my wallet, could not find it, felt under the seat - not there, searched my windbreaker’s pockets, turned out my pocket book, stripped open my carry-on, stuck my hands in every possible pocket that could hold or hide something. I started to sweat, felt nauseaus, thirsty, and frantically entered into my second lap of searching everything that has been searched already - the major concern was for my EC card which was also in the little wallet. My mom and husband joined the search, turned things over, looked into everything whilst my anxiety level surged - I had no idea of what to do?

With Willie’s help I decided to call lost-and-found at the airport. To do that we needed a number. Out came the generic, online printed out itinerary papers: Skavsta airport apparently has no number! Desperate I called the rental car’s office - no answer, because they are only there when customers fly in! While trying to figure out what to do next the rental man calls me back with a thick Swedish accent. The reception is extremely poor and I finally had to shout out my dilemma -“ I need the airport’s number! Yes! Please! Im in a parking lot/construction site in Stockholm. Yes, very kind, please!”.
Trying to shield the phone from the surrounding cacaphonia of pounding jack-hammers, slashing drills, grinding cement mixers, I hunched forwards, knees in the dirt...silencing the shouting workers as they curiously stare at this crazy, zealous religious freak performing her afternoon prayers - total insanity!

I called the ‘labored-through-the-phone’ lost and found number at Skavsta: endless, tortuous ringing that finally cracks me. My parents wisely decide to go explore what might be the old town; buy a postcard...
Willie: Willie is NOT the favorite partner you want to choose in a situation that has escalated to these heights, but Willie IS the person you want to choose if you need a problem solved. So, Willie decides to call our son in Germany, because we need the bank’s number to cancel my card. Willie remote-control guides-talks Hugo downstairs to his office, explains where the phone book is - or rather where it usually is. Hugo does not know what a phone book looks like.

It takes 10 minutes to establish that the phone book is not where it usually is.

Next line of defense: the bank folder in the filing cabinet - “go to the second drawer in the cabinet on the left. If you look to the street it is the cabinet closest to my desk. What do you see? Folders - Yes, read the names to me. Continue - that is Nedbank - S is further down in the alphabet. Are you sure? Try the drawer in the next cabinet. What do you see?”

It takes 15 minutes to establish that the folder is not in the filing cabinet!

Ok, sit on my chair - there are a pile of folders to your right on the floor. Do you see it? Read the names to me.
It takes 10 minute to establish that the Sparkasse folder is not there.
Next line of defense: Hugo patiently and respectfully follow these Martian orders. “There is one more place - on my desk. Left hand corner: you will see a high stack of papers and folders. Start at the top and read the names to me. No, next one. No, ! Halfway through - that’s it! Open the folder...now find a paper that looks like a contract. You don’t know what a contract looks like. You will see signatures on it - mom’s and mine. No, that is our bank number. No, that is not a telephone number. A business card - yes, yes, read the numbers on it. Yes, service center! Sparkasse Lörrach number. Yes, thank you my son.”

Willie shuts the phone and silently stares out the closed window in the sweltering hot car- and finally, without a word, hands the phone with the number to me to me. The one thing I can do is speak German.
I canceled the card in 2 minutes - 2 hours later. My stomach has contracted to the size of a dried prune, my head is pounding, guilt, anxiety and idioticness are running races through me. So, how do you normalize a situation like this? You don’t. You patiently ride it out and try to act semi-normal.

In the 30 minutes that Oupa and Ouma had lunch, Willie and I brushed through the edge of Old Town, took pictures, look up and down streets and I slowly decompressed one of the worst travel faux-pas: lose a valuable when you find yourself in a new country with a foreign language.

Stockholm, I think, is a beautiful city: church steeples, spires, colorful, narrow cobblestone roads, canals, thousands of people attending the Musik Fest, BUT I did not mind when we drifted out of Stockholm. Maybe I would like to visit it some time in the future - maybe in my second life!

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Photos

001
our rental car

002
Oupa and Ouma

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welcome in stockholm

Oom Gerrit, Mamma Stocholm baai
patiently waiting for the storm to pass