Sigh. Being a globetrotter like myself can be PRETTY STRESSFUL sometimes. I'll tell you. After a hectic, all be it interesting, week in Helsinki with my new team of colleagues, I had to catch the early afternoon plane back to Oslo on Friday to catch a train.
After explaning to the gate crew that I had only 40 minutes between my ETA at Gardermoen and the train departing towards Dombås, I was even allowed to board the plain lugging four (!) pieces of cabin luggage. On Scandinavian. And this was without Mr. Incredible and his Eurobonus Gold in tow. Amazing.
Of course, the flight was delayed. By 30 minutes. Thanks to the cabin steward letting me stash all of my belongings up front, I was able to leave the plane before the remaining passengers, and RUN (ouch!) for the train station. Past the tax free shop. Can you imagine the PAIN?!
I just about made it. I even had a WHOLE MINUTE to spare before the train arrived (our national rail services are not known to ever be on time, which - although mostly annoying - CAN sometimes be a good thing). Wheew. To my great disappointment there was no restaurant car. Alas, no RED WINE. Weep.
After enjoying the scenic landscapes along the beautiful lake Mjøsa for three hours, I was greeted by the pre-booked taxi-diver at Ringebu station. One of the TWO taxi-drivers in this godforsaken place. Half-way up to the hotel at Kvitfjell, the taxi driver (who apparently also doubled as the taxi central booking service) asked if I would be willing to drive back down again to collect another hotel guest. He even offered to share the cost of the ride! How generous! Being a girl, of course I felt bad about having to turn the offer down politely. Although inside I wanted to SCREAM - "F*** you, I have been travelling for seven hours now, I COULD HAVE BEEN IN NEW YORK BY NOW!": But, of course, I didn't.
Arriving at Gudbrandsgard Hotel I was greeted by the newly appointed hotel piccolo, a.k.a. Mr. Incredible. And - waiting in our suite (with a humongous terrace facing the ski slopes) - was our old acquaintance - Mr. Perignon, too.
Being a globetrotter is perhaps not that bad after all.
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