There is no direct train from Copenhagen to Oslo. There are, though, direct train from Stockholm to Oslo. To get from Copenhagen to Oslo, I would need to get to a stop in Sweden to catch the Stockholm-Oslo train. After the much deliberation, the SJ staff gave me the Copenhagen-Malmo-Katrineholm-Oslo option.
The first leg took me from Copenhagen to Malmo. Malmo is on the southern tip of Sweden, and it looks like a bigger town than Fulda. The size of the station was a giveaway. Also, the number of passengers rushing in and out of the station were much higher than in Fulda. But it was again dark outside, and after the last few days running around europe, my legs were killing me. I decided to just while away the time in the station hall.
The train was heading for Stockholm, and stops the next morning in Katrineholm, somewhere before Stockholm. I have no idea then whether Katrineholm is a city or a town. And I now don't remember how I actually got up in the morning when the train arrived in Katrineholm. It was before before 5am when the train pulled into Katrineholm, though it is already bright on this summer morning. I was still feeling sleepy.
Luckily, the station hall was clean and warm. There were already three guys in the station. Each stake a claim on their own corner. There was still a low platform by the door available for me. I lay out my luggage and went to sleep. It was actually quite comfortable. When I woke up refreshed, I notice that the other guy in the hall looked like a Thai. He is definitely from the Indochina part of the world. But when once he spoke, he was speaking good Swedish (I assume it was Swedish.) I would find out later that there is quite a visible Thai-Indochina presence in the Scandinavia.
After a good nap, time for breakfast. Katrineholm is definitely a town, and a small one at that. There is a main street right in front of the station.
A pub to the left of the station, and a restaurant across the road. A banner declared the 150th anniversary of the station.
On the small square in front of the station was a old payphone booth. This in the age of Ericsson. Other than these, there wasn't much of note around the station.
The restaurant was named Sultan, not quite the name I expect for one in a Swedish small town. I thought first it was a kebab shop, like the many that has mushroomed in other European cities. But a look inside confirmed it was a plain old Swedish eateries. A smelling outside also confirmed there was none of the barbequed scent usually associated with a kebab shop.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee was already filling the air in the restaurant. A few refrigerator-display counter lined both sides of the cash registers. From afar, I thought they were sleeing cupcake. In the bright display counters were pastries in bright pink and green. On closer inspection, the pink toppings were no cream but fresh shrimps. The shop main fare were what was known as storsmörgåstårta, and shrimp sandwiches. The green were cucumber or vege leaves. I would prefer something warm for breakfast, but all look delectable.
But first, I need to make sure I can pay with credit card. The only kroner I had on me was the Danish variety, and it was too early to find a foreign exchange here. I approach the older of the two cashier, once I open my month and spoke in English, she was surprise and deferred me to the younger swedish lady. She speaks English, but ended each sentence with a higher tone: "Yes, we accept credit caaaRD", "Do you want sugaaAR?" It was almost like a bad parody of a northern european in some politically incorrect UK or US comedy. Both cashier were blondes, so the Sultan connection is not from its staff. There were actually a small board on the pole outside the shop. The sultan seems to be from the town's history of trading in tobacco with Turkey.
After breakfast, it was almost time for the next leg, from Katrineholm to Oslo. I really love these black glossy engine of SJ. Notice there is still a snow plow in front of the engine.
About 3 hous later, we passed Charlottenburg, 432km from Stockholm. Soon after we passed through Charlottenburg, there was a P.A announcement from the conductor that we were running through the Sweden-Norway border.
When we reached Kongsvinger station, I think we were in Norway.
As we proceed west, I noticed that the track was still snow-covered. They say there are no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. I worry about my clothings.
As we neared Oslo, the scenery outside the window turned mostly to woodlands and lakes. More important, it was getting warmer, much warmer.
We didn't get to travel all the way by train to Oslo, because of the maintenance work that Saturday. We were guided to the waiting buses which made the trip into Oslo.
On the bus were what looks like a rock band. On the way, I saw a rather large mosque. Before long, we were in Oslo, the northernmost train station I have been to sofar.
Again, time to look for a place to sleep.
The first leg took me from Copenhagen to Malmo. Malmo is on the southern tip of Sweden, and it looks like a bigger town than Fulda. The size of the station was a giveaway. Also, the number of passengers rushing in and out of the station were much higher than in Fulda. But it was again dark outside, and after the last few days running around europe, my legs were killing me. I decided to just while away the time in the station hall.
The train was heading for Stockholm, and stops the next morning in Katrineholm, somewhere before Stockholm. I have no idea then whether Katrineholm is a city or a town. And I now don't remember how I actually got up in the morning when the train arrived in Katrineholm. It was before before 5am when the train pulled into Katrineholm, though it is already bright on this summer morning. I was still feeling sleepy.
Luckily, the station hall was clean and warm. There were already three guys in the station. Each stake a claim on their own corner. There was still a low platform by the door available for me. I lay out my luggage and went to sleep. It was actually quite comfortable. When I woke up refreshed, I notice that the other guy in the hall looked like a Thai. He is definitely from the Indochina part of the world. But when once he spoke, he was speaking good Swedish (I assume it was Swedish.) I would find out later that there is quite a visible Thai-Indochina presence in the Scandinavia.
After a good nap, time for breakfast. Katrineholm is definitely a town, and a small one at that. There is a main street right in front of the station.
A pub to the left of the station, and a restaurant across the road. A banner declared the 150th anniversary of the station.
On the small square in front of the station was a old payphone booth. This in the age of Ericsson. Other than these, there wasn't much of note around the station.
The restaurant was named Sultan, not quite the name I expect for one in a Swedish small town. I thought first it was a kebab shop, like the many that has mushroomed in other European cities. But a look inside confirmed it was a plain old Swedish eateries. A smelling outside also confirmed there was none of the barbequed scent usually associated with a kebab shop.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee was already filling the air in the restaurant. A few refrigerator-display counter lined both sides of the cash registers. From afar, I thought they were sleeing cupcake. In the bright display counters were pastries in bright pink and green. On closer inspection, the pink toppings were no cream but fresh shrimps. The shop main fare were what was known as storsmörgåstårta, and shrimp sandwiches. The green were cucumber or vege leaves. I would prefer something warm for breakfast, but all look delectable.
But first, I need to make sure I can pay with credit card. The only kroner I had on me was the Danish variety, and it was too early to find a foreign exchange here. I approach the older of the two cashier, once I open my month and spoke in English, she was surprise and deferred me to the younger swedish lady. She speaks English, but ended each sentence with a higher tone: "Yes, we accept credit caaaRD", "Do you want sugaaAR?" It was almost like a bad parody of a northern european in some politically incorrect UK or US comedy. Both cashier were blondes, so the Sultan connection is not from its staff. There were actually a small board on the pole outside the shop. The sultan seems to be from the town's history of trading in tobacco with Turkey.
After breakfast, it was almost time for the next leg, from Katrineholm to Oslo. I really love these black glossy engine of SJ. Notice there is still a snow plow in front of the engine.
About 3 hous later, we passed Charlottenburg, 432km from Stockholm. Soon after we passed through Charlottenburg, there was a P.A announcement from the conductor that we were running through the Sweden-Norway border.
When we reached Kongsvinger station, I think we were in Norway.
As we proceed west, I noticed that the track was still snow-covered. They say there are no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. I worry about my clothings.
As we neared Oslo, the scenery outside the window turned mostly to woodlands and lakes. More important, it was getting warmer, much warmer.
We didn't get to travel all the way by train to Oslo, because of the maintenance work that Saturday. We were guided to the waiting buses which made the trip into Oslo.
On the bus were what looks like a rock band. On the way, I saw a rather large mosque. Before long, we were in Oslo, the northernmost train station I have been to sofar.
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