Journal - Napló
|Posted on May 24, 2009 at 4:20 PM|
I came home friday afternoon and was just about to slouch down on the couch when I got the urge. That wonderful impuls to just go. I had just finished my one and only exam this semester and decided I could take a little trip. I finished packing a small rucksack in two minutes and set out walking for the Statoil Station in Sandvika.
The destination was Sogndal. Honestly, I couldn’t have got there faster if I had driven a car of my own. The first woman I asked in Sandvika took me to Hønesfoss and the first trucker I asked there took me straight to Sogndal.
I have to tell some stories the trucker told me. He used to drive trucks for the Norwegian Refugee Council during the Balkan war. They had mostly armoured veichles there, but he was assigned one of the two civilian fuel trucks they had in service. First day on the job one of his superior officers came to him with a big brass club and a bag full of wooden pegs. Guy said; “If you get shot at, drive away as fast as you can until you’re somewhere safe, then run back and knock these pegs into any holes in the tank.” He told me it was part of that trucks standard military equipment. A club and a bag of sticks.
Later he started trucking fuel to the hospital in Sarajevo. On the first convoy in, some french troops that had been under siege in Sarajevo for two years figured they would try to get out in the window of sieze-fire that had been negotiated for letting the convoy in. As (bad)luck would have it, the french troops met the fuel convoy on a really narrow part of the road in a valley with Serbian troops on the one side and Bosnians on the other. Must have been interesting backing up on narrow roads with granades raining down all around.
I spent the night in Sogndal and started back a little after noon the next day. The most memorable part of that strech was the lift I got from an american football team from Bergen on their way to play a match in Tønsberg. I sat in the back of one of the cars in between two huge centerbacks. The one guy must have been two meters tall and about one wide. That mother was huge. Doubt if either of them weigedless than 120 kilos. Luckily one of them was “deeper” then he was “wide”, put it that way.
Also turned out that the driver had had my grandfater as a counslor at Knarvik "high school".
Made it back in about 9 hours. On the way over I spent 6 hours. Cost me 25kr for the ferry on the way back. Had a laugh in every car I was in. I must say, hitch-hiking can be as practical and nice as it is cheap and exilirating.