and the womanhanded Kathrine a scrap of paper with the name of a hotel in Boulogne written on it in old-fashioned writing, the Hotel du Vieux Matelot.
“That’s the Old Sailor Hotel,” said Christian’s mother, and she gave a high-pitched, somewhat artificial laugh. Kathrine thanked her, and left.
Five hours after arriving in Aarhus, she was on a train again. She had wanted to have a look at the town, but all the people on the streets had been too much for her, and finally she had taken refuge in a museum that was full of old runestones. She looked at them, but she felt restless, and by the time she was sitting in the train, she had almost no recollection of what she’d seen.
Kathrine felt disappointed. So many years she had been dreaming of a trip to the South. She had supposed that everything would be different south of the Arctic Circle. She had pictured worlds to herself, wonderful, colorful worlds full of strange animals and people as in the books of Jules Verne she had liked so much as a child.
Around the World in Eighty Days, Journey to the Center of the Earth, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
. But this world wasn’t so very different from the world of home. Everything was bigger and noisier, there were more people around, more cars on the streets. But she had hardly seen anything that she hadn’t seen at home or in Tromso. There’s not a lot of room in a person, she thought.
In Hamburg, it was raining. There was an hour until the night train for Paris was due to depart. Kathrine stayed inthe station, sat down at a table by one of the snack carts. She counted up her money, and thought about the way her mother had forever been counting her money, when they were still living in Sweden, and dreaming of having a fishing boat. Kathrine looked about her suspiciously, before she put the money back in her purse. In one corner sat a family from somewhere in Asia, with lots of luggage and quiet, well-behaved children.
A drunk sat down next to Kathrine and said something to her. While she was in Bergen, she had bought herself an American thriller to read on the train. Now she took it out, opened it at random, and pretended to read. But the man wouldn’t leave her alone. He bent forward and looked in her face and said something that Kathrine couldn’t make out. Finally, she got up and walked away. The drunk followed her for a few steps, then turned back. Kathrine waited outside in the main hall. By the time her train came in, she was shaking with cold. She was glad there were still empty places in the sleeping cars. She was all alone in her compartment. It reminded her of the cabins on the Russian trawlers, only with a bigger window.
Slowly, the train rolled out of the station. Rain lashed against the window, and Kathrine saw the many lights in the city, and for the first time since setting out she had the feeling of being somewhere out in the wide world.
The train moved through the darkness, with only occasional clusters of lights. Kathrine undressed and placed her clothes on the suitcase, which she had stowed on themiddle bunk. She lay down. The train swayed gently, and the monotonous sounds made her sleepy.
Kathrine was walking through an enormous department store. It was dark, only where she was was somehow lit up. The light stayed with her. There were no other people in the store, but she sensed she was not alone, that she was being watched. She knew she had forgotten something, but she didn’t know what. She knew she was dreaming, and at the same time she knew the dream was real, because she was dreaming it. Her shopping cart was empty. She walked through the store, between the long shelves that were like walls. She was frightened, even though she felt nothing could happen to her here, that nothing was real, that she was in a dream. She heard the noise of the train, but the dream didn’t stop. She was trapped in it.
Kathrine awoke when the light came on in the compartment. She saw two legs right in front of
“That’s the Old Sailor Hotel,” said Christian’s mother, and she gave a high-pitched, somewhat artificial laugh. Kathrine thanked her, and left.
Five hours after arriving in Aarhus, she was on a train again. She had wanted to have a look at the town, but all the people on the streets had been too much for her, and finally she had taken refuge in a museum that was full of old runestones. She looked at them, but she felt restless, and by the time she was sitting in the train, she had almost no recollection of what she’d seen.
Kathrine felt disappointed. So many years she had been dreaming of a trip to the South. She had supposed that everything would be different south of the Arctic Circle. She had pictured worlds to herself, wonderful, colorful worlds full of strange animals and people as in the books of Jules Verne she had liked so much as a child.
Around the World in Eighty Days, Journey to the Center of the Earth, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
. But this world wasn’t so very different from the world of home. Everything was bigger and noisier, there were more people around, more cars on the streets. But she had hardly seen anything that she hadn’t seen at home or in Tromso. There’s not a lot of room in a person, she thought.
In Hamburg, it was raining. There was an hour until the night train for Paris was due to depart. Kathrine stayed inthe station, sat down at a table by one of the snack carts. She counted up her money, and thought about the way her mother had forever been counting her money, when they were still living in Sweden, and dreaming of having a fishing boat. Kathrine looked about her suspiciously, before she put the money back in her purse. In one corner sat a family from somewhere in Asia, with lots of luggage and quiet, well-behaved children.
A drunk sat down next to Kathrine and said something to her. While she was in Bergen, she had bought herself an American thriller to read on the train. Now she took it out, opened it at random, and pretended to read. But the man wouldn’t leave her alone. He bent forward and looked in her face and said something that Kathrine couldn’t make out. Finally, she got up and walked away. The drunk followed her for a few steps, then turned back. Kathrine waited outside in the main hall. By the time her train came in, she was shaking with cold. She was glad there were still empty places in the sleeping cars. She was all alone in her compartment. It reminded her of the cabins on the Russian trawlers, only with a bigger window.
Slowly, the train rolled out of the station. Rain lashed against the window, and Kathrine saw the many lights in the city, and for the first time since setting out she had the feeling of being somewhere out in the wide world.
The train moved through the darkness, with only occasional clusters of lights. Kathrine undressed and placed her clothes on the suitcase, which she had stowed on themiddle bunk. She lay down. The train swayed gently, and the monotonous sounds made her sleepy.
Kathrine was walking through an enormous department store. It was dark, only where she was was somehow lit up. The light stayed with her. There were no other people in the store, but she sensed she was not alone, that she was being watched. She knew she had forgotten something, but she didn’t know what. She knew she was dreaming, and at the same time she knew the dream was real, because she was dreaming it. Her shopping cart was empty. She walked through the store, between the long shelves that were like walls. She was frightened, even though she felt nothing could happen to her here, that nothing was real, that she was in a dream. She heard the noise of the train, but the dream didn’t stop. She was trapped in it.
Kathrine awoke when the light came on in the compartment. She saw two legs right in front of
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