In the absence of a satisfactory response from Oslo, a friend in Denmark suggested I might like to visit Jutland.
Despite the Guinness intake I was up bright and early and ready to bounce (perhaps an exaggeration) out of the hotel in time to get an early tram to the railway station where I was able to find caffeine and sustenance for the first part of the journey at my leisure. I planned to have time enough in Copenhagen to grab more provisions so that I could arrive at my destination replete.
I took a final last view at Göteborgs Centralstation which I declared to be the winner of my “Prettiest Station (So Far)” award, despite the slightly grey and drizzly conditions. It is Sweden’s second busiest station after Stockholm and 27 million passengers presumably wander past its wooden pillars and over its limestone floor every year without even noticing how splendid it is. The station opened in 1858 on land that had previously housed a prison (I now understand why the lounge inflamed my criminal tendencies) and was rebuilt and enlarged in 1923, which is more or less what is there today.
As is always the way, I only discovered after going through the station that it contains art I would have liked to see, a bronze statue called Weeping Girl – presumably distraught because there are no more donuts in the lounge. This is not the first time I’ve missed something right under my nose; I missed the Kindertransport statue in Prague back in 2019 so might have to try and remedy that. At least this time she popped up in a random photograph I’d taken while dashing.
The 08:40 Öresundståg to Copenhagen left on time and was not overly busy. It turns out that it was not a metro in Copenhagen that whisked me to The Little Mermaid but one of these modern trains that run over the bridge between Sweden and Denmark and serve the Öresundståg region.
The first class compartments are very comfortable but lack any solo seats. I had decided not to reserve from Göteborg and found a nice window seat with a special puppet place and enjoyed my filter coffee and chocolate scone while the girl in the seat over the aisle pouted into her phone and took short videos of passing stations. At one point she started choosing a musical accompaniment for her masterpiece which resulted in an uncharacteristic outburst brought about by lack of caffeine, I think, where my angry Paddington face accompanied my foghorning, “Excuse me, but don’t you have any headphones for that thing?” at a level which guaranteed that the remaining three hours of journey passed in uneasy yet blissful silence which was dutifully observed by everyone.
Ultimately, these people have to learn if they are to avoid eteneral damnation, although I fear that in her case it is already too late for little does she know that a special place in hell is reserved for people who record video in portrait.
The view outside the window was best described as bleak. I could have been philosophical about it, but I’d found a puppet-perch and it was obvious my day was not going to get much deeper than that.
By Gunnesbo we were starting to run late and sat between there and Lund for a good fifteen minutes listening to automated safety announcements explaining that we were waiting for permission to proceed. Eventually we were told that there had been a signal failure which was in the process of being repaired and before long we were on our way again, pulling into Malmö just as it was being announced that Malmö was now our terminus. Thankfully, those of us not engrossed in pouting into our phones were also informed that the next train to Copenhagen was to leave in about four minutes from platform 2b. The train spilled its guts onto the platform and that was that, apart from one girl with a noisy phone who was idly flicking her way through Tiktok. I briefly wondered how long it would take her to realised that she was now the only person on the train and what would happen to her, but quickly became more involved in fighting my way down the escalator amid a mass of bodies who just stood on it as if they had all the time in the world.
In the underground part of the station at Malmö there is more art which I only noticed as we were pulling out of the station, sadly. It’s a video installation, a projection of a train journey on the far wall, as if through a train window. I wished I’d had a little more time to sit and watch it because even though I was actually on a train myself, the video had clearly been recorded during slightly better meteorological conditions. It was mesmerising and incredibly simple, and probably profound had I thought it at the time.
The train got to Københavns Hovedbanegård at 12:49, leaving me seven minutes to locate platform 7 and get on the 12:56 service to Holstebro. Conveniently, we were only three or four platforms away and in Copenhagen you can dash up the stairs onto the street, along the street and then back down to your platform of choice (or necessity) without passing through any barriers. And as if the Noodles were touching me, on the platform next to coach 61 was a serendipitous 7Eleven booth from which I hastily grabbed some lunch in the quickest railway station transaction I think I’ve ever executed.
I’d booked a quiet compartment for the journey to Holstebro and was delighted to find only one other person in it, sitting quietly. I said hello and quickly felt as if I’d over-stepped the mark, so sat down and amused myself with snacks, quietly. As if to taunt me, there were more Lakrids in the snack cache than there were dinky chocolates (“crispy caramel, sea salt, premium milk chocolate”) and only Nescafé as a “coffee” solution. In Kaffe Kid yesterday I mentioned to lovely Fredrik that I had had to make a decision between Aeropress and clothes and he found my decision to have clothes accompany me on my adventure most peculiar.
I could’ve been brewing.
The train took us through a lot of woodland and lots of pretty scenery, most of which was flat. At either Vejle or Herning, I think, the train split into two parts and the first four carriages went somewhere else while we in the the last two trundled on merrily to Holstebro where we arrived on time. The other man in the carriage got off in Vejle leaving me to enjoy compartment to myself, giving me ample opportunity to pillage the snacks and rustle the wrappers defiantly with nobody to tell me off. I felt very rebellious.
Jutland is the bit that juts out between Germany and Sweden, and my train took me to the western part of Northern Jutland, a town called Holstebro, where we arrived on time.
Holstebro is not where I’m staying, but is the nearest station from which Host could pick me up and may well be closing in on Gothenburg for prettiest station (so far).
Holstebro’s railway station opened in 1866, but the red brick station in which I arrived dates from 1904 and was designed by the Danish architect Heinrich Wenck. As well as wood panelling, it has chandeliers and a gallery, which is something I’ve never seen before. All railway stations should have chandeliers. Gothenburg has chandeliers, but not a gallery.
I could not see any art on first inspection.
Host whisked me to my destination where I shall be staying for about a week or so while I determine where to go and what to see next. I expect some tourism, but I also have work to do. Booo.
