The farmhouses that line the freeway are hidden by tall tree tops. A natural fence; to reduce the sound of traffic and the inevitable prying eyes of the passers-by. This three plus hour drive from the city of Viborg (where my friend lives) and the largest city of Copenhagen is filled to the brim with hilarious exchanges. Two complimentary souls to mine own, who I had the pleasure of acquainting during my adventures through New Zealand last winter, have agreed to reunite on Denmark soil. We’re more than halfway there when our host pulls off the highway and into the parking lot of a McDonald’s.
I’m sitting in the back seat of the two-door and busy typing away on my phone when I realize they’re both waiting anxiously in the cold for me to get out of the car. “I have to pee! Get out of the kaaahhhh!” I refuse to contain my laughter at her Danish accent on her English expression of the word car. I fumble with the seatbelt, but I’ve wrapped it around my purse and then folded my scarf through that. It takes me more than a moment to free my body from the safety harness and by the time I exit, all three of us are laughing. I slam the door and she clicks the automatic lock on her keychain as we all bolt towards the warmth awaiting us inside the sliding glass doors.
[embedyt] https://youtube.com/watch?v=GXSM-DTngks[/embedyt]
After some food and two visits to the washroom, were back on the road; 97kms to go. My mind wanders as I watch rolling green hills and the occasional cluster of turbines in the distance. It’s been raining the last two days, but as we near the city the blue sky begins to peek through the long stretches of fluffy clouds. We’ll visit the majority of the city on foot and (obviously) doing so in the rain will make things sloppy and challenging, yet not impossible. The city is windy and most of the center is under construction—a new metro system is underway. Diversity is in full swing and so is the obvious drug use. Young adults prance around the cobblestone streets yelling at strangers or stopping businessmen in suits to ask for a cigarette. Another bunch, perched on the concrete steps leading to the train station, blast techno music while moving their arms in fluid motions; as if underwater. It’s just past 23:00 and the sun just set for the evening. A brisk walk was our first order of business after the long hours in the car and tensions, quite lax when we arrived but strained by the complicated check-in process, are now running high.
Long days on foot and “too many chefs in the kitchen”—so to speak—push strains further as personalities and mismatched character flaws clash. Add alcohol and the inevitable eruption breaks the surface in the least ideal of places; public. As adults, however, we adjust behaviors and have a constructive conversation that yields positive results. Some negative runoffs on my learned behaviors of solo travel, no doubt, I must relearn the correct balance of giving and receiving, both help and advice. Despite this though, the quickness of the trip and the opportunity to share it with others was a welcomed change. The morning we were all to go our separate ways snuck up like it always does. The boogieman in the shadows of time laughing at the timing of the achieved balance between us. Lifes will continue and I anticipate a swift decrease in communication, but I know better not to accept and welcome the inevitable cold that follows farewells and so-long-embraces. I close the door behind the girls, spin on my heels and glance around the tiny room. On my own once more I float into autopilot, packing my pack before laying back down for three more hours of peaceful, undisturbed sleep.
