Easyjet fly from Copenhagen to Manchester twice a day, seven days a week. It takes one hour and 40 minutes to get from Denmark to the UK, and costs no less than £50. Well, I am currently sitting in a windowless ferry cabin in Amsterdam, coming to the end of a three-day journey to get home. I think I made the wrong choice.
It all sounded so simple at the time of booking. Because my bike is too old and frigid to let me cycle all the way to Amsterdam, instead I changed the ferry booking and got a train ticket to Holland: direct. I booked a cheap room so as to have one glorious night in a new city, and in a sense completely forgot the wonders of aviation.
I was all set. I had a rucksack strapped to my back and one on my front, walking my bike beside me. A walk from my apartment to Copenhagen’s central station usually takes 20 minutes. 45 minutes after I set off, I finally arrived, exhausted and annoyed. I always get annoyed when I leave anywhere: the place, the friends, the relaxed stance to street prostitution. So as usual I sat on a train platform with my bike and my bags, peeved.
I was of course happier when the train arrived, and even more delighted when I got a whole cabin to myself. As it was an overnight train, I booked a bed in a luxurious cabin with free tea and coffee and biscuits and a buffet cart and ironed sheets. Well, actually, of course I didn’t. I booked a ‘travel seat’ in a room with five other ‘seats’, no electricity, no air conditioning and a faulty light fitting.
But no, this was fine. I had my book in my hand and was ready to tackle some Brontë. Of course, about an hour into the journey I was getting tired. I rubbed my eyes a few times and was drifting to sleep when suddenly I sneezed pretty much everywhere. I realised my eyes were swollen and my nose was running. Yep – less than 30 miles from Copenhagen and the pollen of Denmark’s wonderful rural landscape had already infiltrated my pathetic excuse for an immune system.
The occasional sneeze and snot trickle lasted until dark, when I began to drift in and out of sleep. Now, I was happily prepared for the fact that 15 hours on a chair was not going to be the most comfortable of snoozes, but when I finally knocked out we apparently crossed the German boarder. Just gone midnight, I was rudely awoken by an enormous figure bearing over me from the doorway. “Blach blach blach!” he shouted at me and another guy who had joined my cabin. I was petrified. The other man handed over a laminated piece of card, so I understood this gargoyle-like German policeman wanted to see my passport. “I give you my passport, you give me a pacemaker OK?” He looked sceptically at it – as they always do – and reluctantly gave it back to me – as they damn right always do.
The rest of the night went relatively smoothly, and I arrived in Amsterdam happy enough. I eventually found my room – shared – in the south of the city and departed to find something to do.
When I told a friend a few weeks ago – well, not really a friend, more of one of those people you end up talking to at a party – that I would be going to Amsterdam for one night, he said it would be “wild”, and enviously looked at me.
Now, what on earth did my friend mean by this? Sure, Amsterdam’s a pretty groovy place with its canals and bicycles and – dare I say it – cheese. But hey, there’s more to do in Amsterdam than eat cheese, as I found out. First, I went to the Van Gough museum, before heading for the Heiniken Brewery. Ha, crazy eh?
Anyway, it was getting late so I sat in a park and read for a bit before having a look at the old Olympic Stadium in the city. There I ate some food in the Stadium. I know; it doesn’t get much wilder than that.
The next day I headed to the speedboat that would take me to my ferry. My head was still hazy from all that cheese and art the day before.
So anyway, that was Amsterdam. Part two – my amazing ferry adventure – will follow…
No comments:
Post a Comment