12 October 2007

The Road To Oslo (a.k.a. I Like This Bus!)

Last night was a restless one. The drive from Bergen to Oslo is long - about 11 hours - and travels over some unforgiving mountainous terrain, and through tunnels. They have many tunnels here in Norway. A couple of nights ago we passed through one that went under water. Norse engineers have also constructed tunnels of varying lengths through mountains. Last night, we traversed one that stretched approximately 29 kilometers, the top of the bus mere inches from scraping across it's lapidarious ceiling. Or so it seemed. Probably just an illusion.

Our bus is a brand new European-style double-decker tour coach, with the bunks upstairs on the second level, towards the front - which is why they can be challenging to sleep in during bumpy rides; every little movement is exaggerated the higher up you are. However, it's best feature is the giant picture window at the front of the bunk bay, just above the cab where our driver, Michael, sits. 

On rides such as the one last night, I'll often lie in my bunk, attempt to ignore the buffeting of the bus, and try to relax. My thoughts inevitably turn to my son and how much I miss him. Tomorrow will bring me one day closer to seeing him again, I tell myself. Occasionally, when sleep does finally settle on me, even briefly - before the next hairpin turn jars me awake - I'm lucky enough to escape the usual smorgasbord of anxiety-filled night terrors and he will be there waiting for me as I drift into a dream. Sometimes he's on the road with me, seeing the world by my side - beautiful, exotic places that never seem quite the same in real life. These are my favorites, but it always hurts to wake up and realize he's thousands of miles away. 

This morning about 8 - after being tossed around my bunk the majority of the night, my ears popping from the altitude - I crawled from bed, opened the curtains and was treated to an extraordinary view: We were driving alongside a giant lake surrounded by tiny villages and houses that looked as though they should be inhabited by gingerbread people. Everything was covered with a fresh layer of snow and looked like an impressionist painting come to life. I had no idea where we were - somewhere far up in the Norwegian mountains - but I couldn't tear myself away. I got a pillow and sat there on the floor, staring out the window in silence for nearly an hour at the staggering beauty of the Scandinavian morning while everyone else slept just behind me, trying not to get emotional over what I was seeing. I started to miss my boy again. I wanted him to see this too. I wanted him to see that places like this do exist on earth, and not just in dreams.

I took a picture from the window. It didn't turn out; captured nothing. I'll show it to him anyway.

POSTED BY JAMIE KIME AT 2007-10-12 16:18:40