At eleven Hirtshals glides past the rails,
creamlike clouds and seagulls hanging above it.
The ferry goes half an hour before the scheduled
time. I have already had a filling breakfast in Sindal (why do hotelkeepers
think that their guests like butter and jam in tiny plastic cups?), helped
Spaniards in the gas station who understood nothing although the screen gave me
instructions in Estonian, stood a long queue in port looking at diverse rooftop
tents and found out that three beds out of four in my cabin are already
occupied. In the port also a whole row of exactly the same looking Volkswagen
Touaregs waited to get onboard.
As a summary of Denmark one can say that Danish are
very eagerly smiling. They start smiling already when there’s a faint threat of
somebody coming.
As planned many years ago I set Musil aside for some
time and start with Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy. I got it as a gift for
a presentation on some weird conference and decided right away to read it while
on the ferry to Iceland. What else to do here.
Because of this ferry trip I’ve become a car owner
against my will. When I asked on what conditions may I take the leased car to
Iceland for many months then the answer was that it is not allowed to take the
car to Ireland for so long. After follow-up comment that these are actually two
different islands there was never a response so it was obvious that me and the
leasing company have nothing further to talk about.
Checking into the cabin again I discover that I
share it with three ladies who look like moomin trolls and are very surprised
to see me. After some discussion in Danish they manage to find out that the
fourth bed has been lowered to horizontal position while they’ve been away and
a black backpack has appeared on it. When we meet next time then the ladies are
already cheery and inquire what language is spoken in Estonia and how many
people actually live there. They go to the Faroe Islands.
In café a Faroese-Danish movie is shown, in
Icelandic and with English subtitles. Internet onboard costs a fortune. Food quality
is modest.
The whole day gray uneven Atlantic Ocean surrounds
the ferry with sun patches wandering on the water.
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