Gothenburg

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Day 3-4: Gothenburg

Jetlag descends upon me like a gray clouded monster to envelope me, like the oncoming of storm clouds descending on a town ready to make hell. Jetlag is hellish. I thought I had kicked jetlagg’s butt to the curb, not having drank any alcoholic drink and sleeping on the plane, making sure to stay awake the whole day once I got to Stockholm and the next day following Stockholm’s schedule and eating times, and falling asleep at a reasonably time, 22:00 and getting up around 8am the second day. The morning sun rays spread into the empty hardwood floor room, climb onto bed, crawls underneath my sleeping mask and pry my eyes open. The sound of tires hitting wet concrete indicate to me that it is still raining, harking back to my dreadful arrival yesterday. I think about the sleep three hour train ride to Gothenbourg from Stockholm.

It was raining as the train approached, the hostel website said to take tram #1 or #3, I disembarked and asked a local which train to take, #13. I take #13 and got off the right stop near the hostel but discombobulated from the language, the train ride, the tram ride, the rain, I lost my sense of direction. Everywhere I’ve been, at least I had a thought. I was at a complete loss. I got to a pub/restaurant and stood there, rooted to the spot for what seemed like 20-30 minutes but was probably in reality 5-7 minutes, hoping the now heavier rain drops would lessen so I could check out the next street to see if I was heading in the direction of my map. Immobile, I looked to the left and right several times, looked at suitcase with rain drops, and was filled with remorse as two taxis had already come and gone. C’mon, I’m so close to finding the hostel, don’t give up, I kept telling myself. A Chinese lady came out, probably having seen me through the window and looking completely askance, asked in Cantonese, “Where do you want to go?” I said, “I don’t speak Chinese but here,” thrusting my Lonely Planet Sweden book in her face, “I’m looking for this hostel. Do you know this, this hostel, is?” I was a bit embarrassed but so thoroughly lost and tired that I seemed like I was begging. She looked at the map for several minutes and then proceeded into the restaurant to a White Swedish/British? man with a white beard sitting on at the bar pointing to the exact same area I pointed to a minute earlier. I told him I was trying to get to a hostel, the ….hostel. He looked at the map for a minute and thought out loud and said, “I do know there is one hostel up there, walk out and walk up two blocks and turn right.” I repeated out loud after him. I go to the hostel and checked in to a four bedded room, just like a dorm and several WC (toilet) in the hall.
After unpacking, I go to a Thai restaurant to eat, I needed something fast and quick and familiar after a horrid day. When traveling and it happens to be raining, all the sights are closed for the day, and you have a transport pass, the best way to get to know the city is to take the bus or the tram and ride it from beginning to end, and that’s what I did after dinner. After an hour of this, I got tired and went back to my room and nobody checked in yet so exhausted, I went to bed. Now I’m awake, still by myself.

I look at my watch and it is 3:00am, 6:00pm, dinner time, in California. Great. The shining light nudges to get up to do something about my grumbling stomach. Jetlag makes you live in between worlds, makes your head hazy and clouded. The world you are in now is still asleep while the other part of your world is still chugging away industriously.

Breakfast for Swedes are bread, cheese, ham, slices of tomato, slices of red and yellow peppers, slices of cucumber, yogurt, muesli, jam, egg and kavier, and of course coffee or tea. Fortified with plenty of yogurt, I attack the tram system in Gothernburg in a feverish attempt to get over my jetlag. After all, I know the London Tube, Melbourne trams and the NYC transit like the back of my hand, why not Gothenburg? Gothenburg’s trams remind me of Melbourne’s. I take a tram and a bus to the Volvo Museum, 1.5 hour trip, and learn that Sweden used to drive on the left side of the road like the UK and switched in the 1930. Volvo produces many concept cars that do not make it to production but inspire those that do. Volvo automobiles are not its main product, jet engines for the military and boats and ships, buses and racing cars. After dreaming about a red hot convertible, I get back into town and hopped on the topless tour bus to orient myself and lurked in a covered spot once it started raining. Gothenburg spreads out in different neighborhoods with their superb cafes and restaurants and shops. There is one main river/bay west of the train station but the main thoroughfare is east of the train station. Parks and greens are natural parts of the city. I get drop off at the main shopping area, shop for a bit, and alas, find a lovely brown dress (tried on another beautiful design but was too big for me).
To finish the day, I walk to Haga, a charming part of town with different housing designs, cobble streets, and into a seafood restaurant. Thinking about my day, my luck with the dress and indulging, I order white wine, Swedish roe for appetizer, catfish with wine sauce, asparagus, and potatoes for dinner. Perfect way to end a long day.

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