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Wednesday, July 24th - catching the ferry to Norway, 7527 km
Early in the morning I wake to the sound of Kersten retching in the bathroom, presumably puking up last night's excesses. He crawls back into bed half-conscious and goes back to sleep. So do I. I wake again around 10 am, having gone to bed around 4 am.
It will be a busy day and I make a list of things to do. Kersten wakes up and tells me he needs to go to the hospital. He should not have been drinking last night and now has an irritated pancreas. He says it has happened before. Each time he has been kept in hospital for five days on an intravenous glycerin tube and given no food. A tube is also inserted through his nose to pump out the fluids in his stomach for the duration. It takes him several days after this process to re-introduce solid food into his body. I want to ask, 'so why do you go on drinking binges then?,' but of course I don't. He calls Nigel to come pick him up and drive him to the hospital.
I help Kersten pack for the hospital while I do my own packing. I obviously cannot stay here. Nigel arrives and helps get him ready too, but in the middle of it all gets a call from his husband, Sabbin, who has just been hit by a truck and knocked off his bicycle. He needs a ride to the hospital too, so preparations go into panic mode. What a terrible day for everyone! 
Kersten leaves me his spare keys to lock up when I leave around noon. I finish my packing and slip his keys through the mail slot. I ride my loaded bike downtown on the cycling paths, which are raised above the road surfaces but lower than the sidewalks. I call Leif Villars-Dahl in Oslo to let him know I'll be arriving tomorrow morning. He is at work in his law office and says tomorrow will be fine for a visit. Then I buy the ever-so-expensive ticket for the ferry. It costs the equivalent of three and a half days worth of my budgeted allowance, and for this price there are no cabins available for the overnight trip. I am advised to return to at 4:30 to see if there have been any cancellations. I spend the afternoon walking around until I find a bench in a park beside a statue of children playing checkers. There are four rectangular 'lakes' on the west side of Copenhagen that were once part of a great moat around the city in medieval times. They define the core of the city and provide a scenic promenade that gives the city character. I use the time to catch up on my journal writing.
I return at 4:30 to find there have been a couple cancellations so I buy a cabin ticket. As soon as I am on-board and my bike secured, I am told there are no cabins available, and no lounge where I can sit and write or read without being required to buy food or alcohol.
I am not too pleased but I find a seat on the deck outside the restaurant where I can eat the leftover potato salad from Kersten's fridge. He insisted I take as many leftovers as possible as he won't be able to eat them before they spoil. It is fortunately a sunny day but the wind on the deck is a bit brisk so I keep my jacket on most of the time. I feels strange to be leaving Copenhagen so quickly but I was unable to reach another Servas host and hostel and hotel prices are alarmingly higher in Scandinavia.
I get restless on my own. A handsome blue-eyed man, about 30 with sandy blond hair, passes me and makes brief eye contact but doesn't stop. He looks alone and restless too. I will invite him to sit next to me the next time he passes, I say to myself, but an hour later I leave my spot to watch the scenery from the railing as the ship cruises through the strait between Sweden and Jutland, called Kattegat, past a couple capes and stopping briefly in smaller ports.
The sun is low now. Having nothing better to do, I check at the information desk to see if there is any further news about cabins. Only more expensive cabins, costing an additional 160 KR, are available. I complain about my "deck" status because I paid for a cabin but there is nothing the clerk can do. I take a lounge chair nearby in the busy reception area, determined to hang onto it as my 'bed' for the night.
The beautiful blue-eyed man I have seen earlier passes by again and I catch his eye. He smiles broadly and sits in the chair next to me without waiting for an
invitation. His name is Shiya, which is short for Joshua in Hebrew. He is happy to have someone to talk to and we chat up a storm. I was right thinking he looked lonely when I first saw him. He is unfortunately a straight man, but I enjoy his company. A few minutes later, the reception clerk comes to me to offer one of the more expensive cabins for no extra fee because of my complaint. There are two beds in it and I offer the other one to Shiya, who was also expecting to be using a lounge chair all night. After we have moved our bags into the room, Shiya and I buy a bottle of wine and some additional food to add to my sandwiches and potato salad. We eat our meal in the room and then share a couple bottles of beer in the licensed lounge. We meet a Swede there named Johann. He was cruising by, looking lost and lonely too. Only a gay man makes that much eye contact with another man, but I don't want to be too obvious in front of Shiya. Eventually, he stops and asks if he can join us and we say 'Sure' in unison. We talk well into the night when northern sun is gone from the sky. We agree to meet on deck tomorrow morning to watch the ship enter Oslo Fjord shortly after sunrise. Johann gives me a gentle squeeze on my shoulder as he leaves for his cabin, a gesture that says he would have liked to have been more intimate.
PHOTO 1: Copenhagen harbour
PHOTO 2: boats in the harbour
PHOTO 3: Shiya
PHOTO 4: skinny ol' me
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