Trains, Planes, Danes, and Automobiles

Today felt more like a day of travel than my flights getting to Paris, where all three legs of my journey went swimmingly. Seriously though, I can hardly get from Spokane to Seattle without at least getting searched or something funky going down. Spokane to seattle= perfect; even my bags came out almost first. Seattle to Iceland= early landing, met a friend, and had free tv and movies the whole 6 hour flight. My gate was so easy to find I felt like I needed to get lost on purpose. Iceland to Paris= same free movies to stay entertained and a window seat. Even with getting in early and having to wait for Christy and Marc wasn't a downfall because I got to stretch mt legs and learn some of the language off of the signs. I started to compose myself for my orientation day that was purposely scheduled so as to keep me awake and get my body acclimated quicker.

With this and my first day alone navigating Paris under my belt, I felt mildly confident in Christy putting me on the train to CDG and having to figuring out the rest on my own. Though I did speak to several people, it was only ever for clarification and past that I always knew where I was going, how to get there, and how quickly I'd need to run to make my train... right up until the end at least

Because of my first flight running a little behind, I missed both of Tara's suggested trains that would allow her to meet me at the station. Thank the Lord that these Germanic countries almost all know English as a second language- Americans are freaking spoiled- because everyone knew where to direct me. I took a train from the airport to Copenhagen central then switched to a train that would take me right out to Vordingborg.

After keeping track of my hour and a half time to be on the train I started to get nervous so I asked the woman sitting across from me which stop ahead was Vordingborg, worried I was going the wrong direction. She said the next stop; well the next stop came but didn'y indicate anything having to do with Vordingborg, Now I'm concerned that the stop doesn't read Vordingborg exactly but another town that is right next to it. I ask an older gentleman. He also says the next stop. I wait and the next stop was definitely not mine. Now I'm starting to hyperventilate. The stop after that STILL wasn't mine. I'm a puddle by now desperately clinging to the boots of bright hair dyed Danes seeking someone with an extra spine. FINALLY.FINALLY, I'm pacing next to the doors and I hear in the thick Danish accent the word Vordingborg.

*sigh of relief*

Now to find the gym..... Walking.... In a strange town in Denmark... Where I can't read the signs...

So what do I do? I follow this spunky, young-ish looking, dyed red head girl. When I tap her on the shoulder she looking at me with what I assume to be fright for some strange hulking American girl asking her for direction to the college. She composed herself and said she can point me in the direction I need to go but first offers to help me get out of the station. Once on the other side of the ticket window she proceeds to turn in circles before admitting she can't be positive of which GENERAL direction the gym is and berating herself that she should know seeing as how she starts classes there next year.

I thank her anyways and turn to go into the 7/11 Tara had mentioned as a meeting place or a center for direction. The lady behind the counter spoke English, looked at the address Tara gave me and instructed me to go up the main road, take a right on the first street and keep walking....

... Ten minutes later having turned and walked a Danish block I was already questioning the 7/11 lady's wise advice, so I'm flagging down a car passing on my left with an elderly-ish couple in the front seats. I ask again as to the location of the college and gym. They inform me their son goes there, I'm walking in EXACTLY the WRONG direction and they were capable and willing to transport me there.

Since I flagged THEM down, I doubt they had any sinister plot in mind and accepted the gracious hospitality that I had already come to know as a trademark of the country Danish people. We spoke during our brief trip about where I was coming from, why I was here, and that though it seemed contradictory since THEY offered ME the ride, that it probably wasn't in my best interest to a accept rides from perfect strangers in a foreign country... Thanks perfect strangers who's car the foreigner is already in... But they truly were a kind couple, the woman exceedingly so.

My journey ended succinctly and early at said gym where I had a ticket waiting with my name from two ladies who apparently has not only heard all about me, but who seemed to know me well themselves. On the back of the card Tara left a note saying, "Hope the walk was ok. So Happy you are here!!!"

Buah hahaha the walk was short lived but gorgeous none the less. I now know the exact color I would paint my house if I had one!

The game was intense, mildly frustrating, horribly reffed and unfortunately lost, but since there in playoff it's best of 5 so its not the end of the road.

After the game I went in a little car named Donald with four other fairly large (tall) volleyball girls where I was welcomed into Tara and Sage's apartment with a blanket fort room sectioning off part off their living/ dining room just for me!!! Queen sized double air mattress ready and made. 

The night was wonderful. We stayed up late talking, venting, drinking wine and enjoying each others company along with two other teammate that live one house over, and one of their boyfriends. Tara taught me a phrase they use in Danish to express the enjoyment of an evening the next time they see those friends, as a reminder. For the sake of willing readers of all this nonsence I'll roughly spell it how it sounds sans guttural inflections:

Tak for sist!