Post by account_disabled on Jan 2, 2024 23:04:10 GMT -6
I woke up at 7. It was still raining. I cursed that bastard weather again, got dressed and went to the bathroom. Then I dismantled the tent, stuffed everything into my backpack, threw it over my shoulders and set off again, towards the S bridge and the island of wonders. As I walked, almost limping on the sidewalk and sheltered from the rain by a light keeway, I wondered if and when my contact would show up. They had given me no description of the man – or was she a woman? – that I was supposed to meet. From the bridge I took Gate 2 - simply "road 2", without too much imagination - to reach the port ticket office, where I had disembarked the evening before.
There was movement in the square, a ferry had just arrived and a few people were standing on the pier or moving away from it. I was heading straight for the benches to rest my feet, when I heard someone call me. Nobody mentioned my name, obviously, but the guy who was coming towards me, who had Special Data just left the ship, had shouted at me “ Where are you going? ” not very discreet. I hoped he wasn't angry with me, but it went badly for me. The man repeated the question. Not liking shouting in the middle of the street, I preferred to get closer before answering him, but he insisted again. When I found him in front of me, I hoped - I prayed , actually - that this wasn't the contact V. had sent me, otherwise I would have made him pay dearly. He was a man of about fifty, he didn't look like he was older even though he wore them badly, taller than me and at least thirty kilos heavier.
He had a red nose and cheekbones, the typical color of someone who has made alcohol his best friend, and in fact he had a breath that smelled of wine and a cloudy look. He was wearing jeans trousers and a jacket and a gray fur hat on his head. I agree that it certainly couldn't be defined as a tropical summer, but we weren't even in the Arctic. I greeted him in Norwegian and he replied in English. Did I really speak his language that badly? After the first pleasantries he took off his headgear. It was the first time I had seen a man not change his appearance after taking off his hat. I almost thought he was wearing two identical headdresses one on top of the other, so much did his hair resemble the mass of gray hairs he had just removed. I told him I was headed to Selje and the medieval ruins of Selje Kloster. “ Go ”, he then said to me, heading towards the ticket office benches with me. The morning had started really well.
There was movement in the square, a ferry had just arrived and a few people were standing on the pier or moving away from it. I was heading straight for the benches to rest my feet, when I heard someone call me. Nobody mentioned my name, obviously, but the guy who was coming towards me, who had Special Data just left the ship, had shouted at me “ Where are you going? ” not very discreet. I hoped he wasn't angry with me, but it went badly for me. The man repeated the question. Not liking shouting in the middle of the street, I preferred to get closer before answering him, but he insisted again. When I found him in front of me, I hoped - I prayed , actually - that this wasn't the contact V. had sent me, otherwise I would have made him pay dearly. He was a man of about fifty, he didn't look like he was older even though he wore them badly, taller than me and at least thirty kilos heavier.
He had a red nose and cheekbones, the typical color of someone who has made alcohol his best friend, and in fact he had a breath that smelled of wine and a cloudy look. He was wearing jeans trousers and a jacket and a gray fur hat on his head. I agree that it certainly couldn't be defined as a tropical summer, but we weren't even in the Arctic. I greeted him in Norwegian and he replied in English. Did I really speak his language that badly? After the first pleasantries he took off his headgear. It was the first time I had seen a man not change his appearance after taking off his hat. I almost thought he was wearing two identical headdresses one on top of the other, so much did his hair resemble the mass of gray hairs he had just removed. I told him I was headed to Selje and the medieval ruins of Selje Kloster. “ Go ”, he then said to me, heading towards the ticket office benches with me. The morning had started really well.
