"The Tasmanians, who never committed adultery, are now extinct."
William Somerset Maugham, "The Bread Winners"
A VISIT TO THE LAND OF THE NUTTIES ONCE MORE
(A TWO-PERSON INTERRAIL ADVENTURE)
by Richard Karsmakers
...continued from part I.
All strangely at a loss for words after all these years, he
drove us to a place quite close to Ørsta "International Airport"
(once the setting of something involving rubbers and a male
Norwegian Prime Minister), to the south of the actual town of
Ørsta. There Ronny lived with Anne Grete - formerly known as "the
Perpetually Giggling One" - and their amazingly cute 13-month old
It was actually quite a big house, overlooking the Ørstafjord to
the west with the first few lights of downtown Ørsta popping up
to the right to the north. The house had a garage, two floors and
an attic, quite the ideal place for a family to live in. Quickly
Ronny explained that only the bottom floor - and only part of
that - was actually theirs. It amounted to a medium-sized
bedroom, a bathroom and a living room with small kitchen attached
to it. It was actually really small, and in every nook and cranny
evidence could be found of the presence of the beautiful little
girl that shunned away from us for the first half hour after we
entered - Jeanette.
Taking care not to sit down on too much baby toys we sat down.
Ronny went to the kitchen to cook us something as we watched TV -
some kind of Norwegian TV show with very good computer game
graphics involving a troll or something. We unpacked a beeping
something we had bought for Jeanette, a true Dutch souvenir for
Ronny and - of course - some of the ever present chocolate for
our hostess, Anne-Grete.
After a while, Jeanette began to feel a bit more at ease with
us. She even allowed us to hold her within bursting out in a
crying fit instantly. We quickly learned that the perfect way to
make sure that she stopped crying was to aim a photo camera at
her. This, by the way, made it very difficult to actually take a
picture of her when crying. Needless to say we eventually
It was obvious that Jeanette was the centre around which rotated
this small family's life. The entire house was dedicated to her,
as it were. Those few square feet that didn't have miscellaneous
baby toys lying here and there had various forms of baby attire
hanging out to dry. The bathroom, in which it was impossible to
take a shower due to all the semi-wet baby stuff hanging there,
also faintly but distinctly smelled of baby poop.
After a while another girl arrived on the scene. I didn't
recognize her but she turned out to be Elin - yes, the very same
Elin Hatlemark that couldn't stand losing when playing "Bubble
Bobble". Ronny's sister. She had changed more than the others I
had seen so far. She was much older now and much more mature. In
the mean time she lived on her own - also because the Hatlemark
parents had moved way down to the south of Norway not long after
Stefan and me had visited them, and she also had a boyfriend now
who was out at sea but who was due to arrive back at Ørsta the
next day. She was evidently looking forward to it.
For us to be able to sleep we needed to get some mattresses at
family of Ronny's back in Volda. At around midnight, at which
time Jeanette was still remarkably much active.
Let's use the next part to recap a bit of Ronny's history after
the 1988/1989 New Year's Visit to Norway.
During our stay, Ronny had already gotten acquainted with Anne-
Grete, who giggled a lot, especially when quoted lines of
"Norwegian for Travellers" to. A day or two later they already
went steady, which must have been nigh impossible to establish
what with about a dozen generally weird and computer-obsessed
people hanging around his room for almost two weeks.
Anyway, not long after we had left and his place had been
restored to its former self again, he left for the army and his
parents moved to the south to make it easier to sell their
insanely cute Papillon dogs and go to tournaments with them.
Ronny remained incommunicado for a very long time, during which
various unsubstantiated rumours reached us about his supposed new
job in a furniture factory after having quit the army.
These rumours, unlike many others, were true.
Not long after that, Ronny started working at a computer shop in
Ålesund, where he would occasionally meet Gard. On June 13th
1992 he and Anne Grete got Jeanette. Eventually he contacted us
again, and that's where we pick up the story again...
We arrived at Volda not much later. His family had said they
would leave the mattresses in sight somewhere so that he could
fetch them even if they weren't at home.
As it happened, they indeed turned out not to be home. Above, we
could hear a dog yapping away at the various noises we made. The
back door was open so we went in hesitatingly. The dog increased
the frequency and volume of its typically canine noises. Ronny
had to go upstairs to find the mattresses, but eventually we got
them. We folded them (and ourselves) back in the car and went to
When we arrived, quite some time after midnight, Jeanette was
still rather active.
Parallel to reasons explained earlier around my theory of Kai
not being human (or at least not totally), I have reason to
believe that Jeanette is not entirely human, either. I never saw
such an active baby in my life. Sheesh.
They all retreated to the bedroom eventually, Jeanette getting
more quiet now, leaving us and the mattresses to the living room.
We slept remarkably well, not waking up even when Anne-Grete got
up early to work at a baker's and Ronny got up to deliver
It was Saturday in Ørsta. The weather wasn't great but not too
bad either. At least it was dry (we forgot to knock wood though).
Ronny was going to move that weekend, which had become evident
soon. We would just try to stay out of his way as much as
possible whilst remaining present to lend a helping hand when
actual stuff needed to be moved about.
Anyway, Ronny dropped us off in town so we could do some
souvenir shopping as well as getting some supplies for a planned
mountain climbing trip we wanted to undertake. By sheer
coincidence we met Elin in town, who joined us on her way to
meeting her boyfriend. Our ways parted as we headed for the
souvenir shop. There we bought the obligatory troll-associated
Afterwards we went to the super market to buy some Cola, getting
stunned at the fact that meat (of the sort you put on bread) is
about four times as expensive here as in the Netherlands.
Amazing. I was later told this might have something to do with
gradual price increases over the last few years that are to
climax around the time of the Winter Olympics at Lillehammer,
this winter, when Norwegian economy expects a large boost in
A bit later we met Ronny in the town square again, after having
seen some sortof an every-Saturday musical thing involving people
walking around playing various instruments. He was going to take
us to a mountain at about fifteen minutes east of Ørsta. It
wouldn't be too hard to climb for us weaklings, he reckoned. He
didn't say that bit about us being weak, actually.
Although Ronny claimed to have climbed the very same mountain
himself some years ago, he had tremendous difficulty finding the
place where he would drop us off. Eventually it was found
(sortof) and he left us to ourselves. He would go and plan the
moving and all, and we would try to get to the top of this
mountain called Brekkeheida.
On our way up we noticed the phenomenon of flies again. This
time there were many more. The mountain seemed half made of
flies, really, and all of them wanted to be in a position of
about a foot from our heads. Miranda, who is someone with a more
sedate disposition, couldn't be bothered. I, being a rather more
restive kind of person, grew continuously more irritated by the
ever present particularly nasty arthropods. Especially as the way
up became steeper and the odd drop of sweat arose from the
various cavities in our skins, the flies adopted the Japanese
kamikaze pilot attitude and assailed us relentlessly.
I was really getting into a particularly vile mood. I started to
try and slap them away, which caused me to sweat more vehemently,
which caused more flies to be attracted, which caused more
slapping...er...you get the picture, no doubt.
In spite of the arthropod menace, we went almost all the way up.
We were almost directly opposite the highest spot of Norway ever
visited by an ST NEWS editor (at the time that was Stefan), and
probably at about the same level.
The scenery was beautiful, with Ørsta draped next to the green
water of the fjord to our right and the other side showing a
sight reminiscent of Austria or something. Any moment I expected
purple cows and large-breasted girls called "Heidi" to hop across
my field of vision. Or perhaps Julie Andrews singing, followed by
The reason we didn't go all the way up was the fact that, again,
the path was getting increasingly slippery. Also, this particular
mountain seemed basically to consist of a very large rock with
some mud on top of that, with a seemingly dry layer of soil flung
on top of the mud. At multiple instances we found ourselves
standing sortof in a very shallow riverlet of sorts, covered only
by a thin layer of soil and grass.
We went down again a bit to where there were some huts. We ate
our lunch and eventually got dry enough so as to cause the flies
to leave us alone. It was remarkably warm, actually. Maybe
there's truth to be found yet in the theory of being closer to
the sun on top of a mountain.
On the way down we discovered a long descending path of stairs.
We felt kinda screwed. We had climbed the hard way up without
knowing the location of these stairs, and literally within a
quarter of an hour we were all the way down again. No sweat
(literally), so no flies.
At least not just yet.
Before we arrived back at the main road to Ørsta we had to walk
for quite another distance. It was a bad road, normally only used
for lumberjacks I guess. Hundreds of tree trunks lay piled along
the sides. There were many flies. We quickly found out where the
flies came from - there were quite a lot of cows standing on the
hill down. Before we knew what happened the flies has unanimously
voted us a lot more attractive than the cows. We found ourselves
assailed proverbally, running in half-panic, wildly thrashing
around us with arms and jackets. For hundreds of metres we ran,
taking out dozens of flies, before they finally let us be.
We arrived at the road. It wasn't smelly enough to attract any
flies, so there weren't any.
We still had some hours left before Ronny would come to fetch us
again, which was probably at around 5 PM. We decided to start
walking back to Ørsta already, keeping our eyes peeled for any
cars containing Ronny. There was a bit of rain, we examined a
small river with small waterfalls and explored some of nature
next to the road to Ørsta.
Eventually a van came by with the dude in it. He saw us, too,
turned around, and took us to Ørsta.
It was to be a long day, also consisting of quite a lot of
moving. Twice we went to and fro the old place and the new place,
and it took literally ages until finally someone besides us (and
we didn't mention it because we're too modest) thought of food.
Ronny's new place was located at the town square, third floor,
overlooking the Ørstafjord and souvenir shop on one side and the
large super market we had already visited earlier on the other.
It was a big improvement over their previous abode, what with it
having a much larger living room consisting of two parts and it
having two bedrooms, a large separate kitchen and a larger
bathroom. On the ground floor their was a snackbar of some kind
where they also sold pizzas.
Anyway, we ate some of those pizzas at something like 11 PM.
After that, we all spent the first night at the new address. My
head still ached because of the only negative thing about their
new abode: A rather very sturdy kind of electricity-related box
that was located right around the corner of the front door on
one's way to the staircase, at a height exactly right for one's
head to be caved in by it.
The first day I had three rather vicious and insanely noisy
encounters with it, no doubt much to the bemusement of people who
go around saying sayings along the lines of "where an ass falls
he will never fall twice". Very irritating.
The new place was a bit more noisy, too. Whereas their previous
domicile had been in kindof a quiet suburb, the new one was smack
in the middle of downtown Ørsta. So we had the odd macho bastard
driving a car rather spectacularly with loud house music booming
in the middle of the night. Also, my allergy was playing up
again. The Holst household's cats had just caused my nose to clog
up a bit, but this new place turned out to have been the habitat
of several cats before Ronny had moved into it. This had a rather
more violent impact on my breathing apparatus.
Sunday arrived and refused to go. Sundays are always the most
boring days on holidays because all shops are closed and people
are generally disposed to stay indoors a lot.
The weather was good, however, so we decided to bung our books
in a small backback together with some cold tap water in an empty
Cola bottle and cookies (or something) and hike west. Well, it
wasn't exactly 'hiking', it was more something like just walking
along the road west out of Ørsta along the coastline of the
Ørstafjord. Occasionally we would sit down on a piece of
protruding rock, reading a bit and throwing rocks in the water.
At one instant, when we hadn't even left the Ørsta town limit and
we suddenly found ourselves overwhelmed by the scenery (which
caused us to start kissing each other a lot, embraced on a cobbly
beach), we suddenly heard Elin yelling and laughing. We seemed
permanently to run into her coincidentally. Anyway, she was on
her way to Ronny's place to watch after Jeanette while Ronny and
Anne-Grete were going to get some more stuff from the old house.
We said goodbye and proceeded west. We had probably walked
something like 8-10 kilometres when we came across a truly
idyllically quaint waterfall to the north of the road. It was
totally overgrown with lush green bushes, and the odd thing about
it was that someone some time ago had deemed it a nice idea to
build small stone shacks at various spots around it, sometimes
with the water rushing by wildly below them. We tried to get
higher up but the path that went there wasn't exactly well-
trodden and, yes, there were quite a few flies again.
We decided to head back. Already Miranda was feeling pretty
tired, which had gotten a lot worse by the time we came back to
Ronny's place to find that the house was locked and nobody was
home. We sat down on the stairs and took out our books, reading
some more and drinking some of the water we still had left. After
about ten or fifteen minutes the Hatlemark family arrived. We got
A bit later I saw Ronny boiling water to dilute Jeanette's milk
with, and asked him why he bothered boiled it.
"Well," he said, "this morning there was a warning in the
papers. The water is poisonous, you have to boil it before you
Ronny has a way with words. Especially the 'poisonous' bit
alarmed me a bit, although no doubt he didn't quite mean it like
it sounded. Miranda and me had drunk over a litre of the stuff
that day. I swallowed. That was just what we needed - getting
poisoned thousands of kilometres from home, in a strange place
where nurses don't speak Dutch. Luckily, the Dutch water had
apparently sufficiently prepared us for its poisoned Norwegian
variety. It didn't affect us at all.
The new place was getting pretty complete now. All the vital
bits had been moved already - like the stereo, the TV and Ronny's
positively fancy PC. Jeanette now felt completely at ease with
us. We read her Norwegian stories from a small book we had found,
which completely sedated her. Elin was around, too, who turned
out not only to watch Jeanette often but also to be the Hatlemark
cook, given Ronny's admission that Anne-Grete wasn't a
particularly talented one. As a matter of fact that evening we
ate the infamous Brennsnut, that which made Stefan fart a lot
those few years ago and which was at the time translated as
"running nose". Well, it turned out to mean "burned nose", not
even "burning nose", let alone "running nose". Anyway, it didn't
make anything burn or run, and I didn't even have to fart
(although my body usually produces insane amounts of gas at the
I discovered that Jeanette really liked riding on a small cart
she had - the kind that you walk into motion. But she liked it a
lot more if I pushed her forward at a speed normally unattainable
for her. We really had loads of fun. I really love children,
although I do prefer playing with them only when I feel like it
(i.e. I don't feel I'm up to having any of 'em myself yet,
because then you have to play with 'em literally all the time or
It was around that instant that I discovered Ronny's video
collection. He must have had at least 200 video films stacked
under the TV, and browsing among them quickly revealed some
interesting titles. Ronny and Anne-Grete were very busy doing all
kinds of jobs in the house - hanging curtains, connecting lamps,
etc. - so they welcomed our offer to stay out of their hair by
watching "Pretty Woman". I had never actually seen it. I still
think Julia Roberts is not the ideal woman (sorry, Tim). Her
mouth is way too big. But she does have nice hair. We also
watched "Look Who's Talking Too". Quite nice, actually. Very
Ronny had in the mean time called Gard Eggesbø Abrahamsen,
formerly known under many other illustrious names but now just
"Gard", and it was agreed that he'd drop by the nex day.
Late in the morning of that next day, Monday, the phone went.
Being the ill-organised person he is, Gard had neglected to make
note of Ronny's new address and decided to call to find out. He
said he was standing on the Ørsta town square opposite a large
supermarket. Ronny looked outside and began to laugh. Gard was
calling us from a phone booth opposite of where we were. We
faintly saw a hazy long-haired shape utilize a phone, but visual
details were as yet denied to us.
A few minutes later I embraced the Ex-Minute Microbe in the hall
of Ronny's dwelling. I hadn't seen him in years, except for some
pictures that did imply that he had changed a little (to say the
least). Whereas previously he had been a cute little boy, any
mother's dream, he was now all dressed in black, wearing a
moustache, his head adorned with long hair. My God, I found
myself thinking, the pictures I had seen hadn't prepared me
Before I had a chance to voice my deep concern about the dude's
future if he were to retain this kind of outward appearance -
most particularly the moustache - he put in my hands a Gift. Once
unwrapped, it proved to be a highly educational booklet, "How to
Understand and Use a Norwegian". I decided to swallow my
Out of his bag came a video tape. "O.U.C.H. Home Vid III". It
was slammed in the VCR and some of its bits were played. Although
some of them were startlingly boring, some other passages were
totally awesome: One where Gard entered in some sort of school
variety thing where he started headbanging on the stage and got
clubbered with a baseball bat, and especially one part where the
viewer got to see the "We Are Norwegians" song video clip. The
word "semi-professional" sprang to mind. I immediately asked him
whether he could finally get me a copy soon. After all, he had
been promising to send me a copy for about half a year already.
"Yes," he said, confidently.
At the time of my writing this, about two weeks before this
issue of ST NEWS will be finished (i.e. beginning of October) I
have yet to receive it. But I trust you already felt that coming.
Late in the afternoon, after I had made some additional group
photographies, Gard went back to Ålesund again. When would I see
him again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
By the time Gard left, the shops had already closed. Miranda and
me joined Elin to go and get some food and drink at the Shell Gas
Station. On the way there we crossed the Esso lot where we had
lit fireworks some years ago. Nice memories hurled themselves
back at my mind. Car dating was still pretty much in vogue here,
with about twenty cars standing in twos or threes, windows wound
down, people chatting merrily.
This car dating thing never ceases to amaze me. New cars joined,
other went. Probably, a sociology student could graduate on this
subject, provided it was studied properly. We met Anne-Grete's
brother there, car-dating. We had seen him before, too, when he
had lent a helping hand during the moving procedures.
Did you know that Elin actually met her current boyfriend while
Well, Elin told us that she had actually met het current
boyfriend while car-dating. I think car-dating is a vital
ingredient of Norwegian social life, a part of an intricate
evolutionary scheme without which the Norwegians as a race would
die out hopelessly.
Again, Elin cooked for us. This time we ate at a record
lateness, 1 AM. It was a pretty huge amount of spaghetti, and the
fluids still start running in my mouth when I think back of it. I
like eating a lot. I like spaghetti a lot. I like other people
cooking for me. This was perfect.
Tuesday was spent doing things I can't remember much of. Ronny
and Anne-Grete were busy most of the day, Jeanette was at someone
else's place for a few hours and the weather was really bad so we
couldn't do anything outside. I fingered through Ronny's CD
collection, now really discovering that he had changed rather
more than I had thought. Anne-Grete's influences were clear. The
only two CD's among them that I liked were "...And Justice for
All" and Vangelis' "Direct", which I took the liberty to slam in
the CD player.
In the evening Ronny and Anne-Grete took us out for dinner. It
was delayed quite a bit because two of the other people we had
met in 1988/1989, Ole J. Ose and Morten Ose, were supposed to pay
a short visit before. As it turned out they never appeared, which
was really a disappointment. Well, too bad. Eventually we went to
this cosy eating place that Ronny knew, and had something like
Norwegian cuisine with a Norwegian beer. Ronny paid the bill,
which was awfully nice of him as we were kinda running out of
cash and we still had to pay for several reservations in the
When we came back we found Elin, her boyfriend and another
friend of theirs watching "The Best of the Best II" on video. It
was a pathetically bad fighting film, really sad. We went to bed
before they started watching "A Few Good Men" (I'd rather have
had them watch that first), saying goodbye to our lovely hostess
Anne-Grete because chances would probably be tiny of us meeting
her the morning after, when we would leave for home again.
Wednesday morning, July 14th 1993, Anne-Grete indeed turned out
to have gone off to work before we got up. We packed our stuff,
once more pervaded by the "goodbye" feeling we all hate. We went
to the supermarket again to buy some Cola and stuff, including a
one-litre bucket of delicious Norwegian strawberry Jam (Jørdbær
Siltetøy). When we had finished packing, late in the morning, we
stepped in Ronny's car, casting a last glance at Ørsta.
Although Andalsnes, the town with a railway station nearest to
Ørsta, was actually quite close to Ørsta, the fact that a
mountain sat somewhere in the middle made it a rather longer and
nerve-racking journey. Thankfully, Ronny was the nice guy he was
and decided to bring us there by car instead of us having to
undertake a bus journey through Moa that would have taken up even
Nerve-racking the journey was nonetheless. Ronny seemed tired
and his driving style was, at best, slightly having a reverse
effect on my entire digestive system. He dropped us off at
Andalsnes well in time, after an almost three-hour car drive.
After a brief visit to the toilet and a hug or two, Ronny, First
of the Nutties, drove off again. With a hint of sadness I saw the
back of his Granada disappear behind a corner.
During our stay he had mentioned coming to Holland next year or
the year after. I was already looking forward to it.
We spent our time waiting by attempting to remain up-wind of a
travelling couple who had probably spent as long a holiday as we
had with the difference that they had probably not showered once.
They ponged most seriously.
At 16:15 the train from Andalsnes left for Dombas. I had already
taken out "It" again (I was progressing nicely, not quite half-
way yet) but in the end I left it lying on the small train
tablette all the time because of the sheer brilliance of the
views we got offered. For two hours we travelled along gorges and
river valleys the likes of which I had never seen before. Awesome
views hit our eyes every few kilometres, and at times the train
would move closely to wildly onrushing waterfalls. These last
impressions of Norway were among the most beautiful I had ever
seen. I spent most of my time proclaiming "Ooh" and "Aah",
getting irritated because of the fact that the train was mostly
filled with natives who wouldn't have cared less had they been
driven through hell.
People constantly exposed to beauty eventually get blinded by
it. For once I was glad that the Netherlands are as plain and
boring as they are.
The train arrived at Dombas about fifteen or twenty minutes too
late, but thankfully this wasn't much of a problem as the train
to Oslo (via a lot of towns, including Winter Olympics City
Lillehammer) had an even bigger delay. The scenery that flowed by
was already getting a lot less impressive. Then again, just about
any piece of scenery would pale miserably in comparison with the
Rauma and Lagen river valleys we had gazed upon earlier that day.
We arrived at Oslo even much more too late. We had to run, our
backs being wrecked by their packs, to make it to the
(originally) 22:40 train to København. It had waited for the Oslo
train to arrive, but didn't take long to leave. It was vital that
we got on it, and we were glad we did.
In the mean time the weather had worsened. It was dark outside
and the rain lashed against the windows. Even nature sometimes
has a sense of drama.
Couchettes had been sortof sold out. All we could do was attempt
to get some sleep on the chairs we had been assigned. They could
be tilted back a bit, but they were the kind of chairs where
sleeping would result in pained necks and backs in the morning. I
barely slept, as usual, though Miranda once more seemed to
succeed miraculously. There was a guy with a guitar around, but
despite a girl begging him to help her bring the whole lot in a
partying mood he decided not to pluck the strings. Had he asked
me to, I would have kissed his feet.
The train entered Sweden unnoticed, the rain abating after a
while and the blackness outside gently transforming to dark blue
and, eventually, the daylight of dawn. I had read all night -
"It" was brilliant and almost made me forget that I hadn't slept
at all. All people around me were asleep peacefully.
Somewhere during the night the water aboard the train must have
run out. I couldn't refresh myself and the toilet, stuffed with
grey paper, couldn't be flushed either. The whole thing was
beginning to look really primitive. The train had in the mean
time arrived at Helsingborg again, where a short boat trip took
us to Denmark, accompanied by the sound of gulls and a fair bit
While on the ship people started waking up. Most of them -
including ourselves - had to get out at København, where we
eventually arrived at 08:20 in the morning.
We exchanged quite a bit of the Norwegian Kroner we still had
left and had a few great warm ham'n'cheese sandwiches for
breakfast. København Central Station was being renovated so there
wasn't much to see. We had a look outside to see if perhaps this
Rodin Mermaid statuette thingy was anywhere near but it turned
out not to. So we got back and reserved some tickets for the
Danish train to Hamburg and the German train we would have to
take after that, to Osnabrück again. All of this went smoothly,
even though people at the ticket desks turned out usually to tend
to underestimate the reservation prices you have to pay once on
The train to Hamburg, the EC 191 that left at 09:20, was the
most luxurious train we had ever been in. It was totally
computer-controlled or something, with the ticket collector
walking around with some kind of computer enabling him to program
the displays above the chairs which specified the travellers'
source and destination stations. Impressive. Besides that, it was
a really silent train where we sat excellently until a few
Germans (yeah...it's Germans again) went to sit opposite us and
took away most of our leg space.
Miranda and me were both quite knackered. We couldn't be
buggered to complain and instead just read and ate some of the
biscuits and stuff we had bought at København, drinking Cola
At 14:29 the train arrived at Hamburg, leaving us with a little
less than 20 minutes in which to grab the IC 527 train to
Osnabrück. Uneventfulness struck again, which we mostly spent
reading. I was beginning to think I might actually be able to
finish "It" that day.
We usually have problems when travelling. Something goes wrong
somewhere. So, too, this time. In Osnabrück the train to the
Netherlands turned out to have a major delay (I think it was
about three quarters of an hour) which would cause us to miss the
connecting train at Hengelo (in the Netherlands). Well, this kind
of thing can be survived on the way back, so we did.
Some kind of German retard started talking to Miranda - she
always has that sort of thing happening to her - and I guess we
were both glad to see the back of him when he went into another
train, having not succeeded in convincing us to go wherever he
wanted to go.
From the moment we boarded the train to Hengelo the end of our
voyage was drawing near. To signify this end closing in the whole
thing became even more boring. "It" got finished, and we got home
at about 10 PM. At the instant we crossed the threshold to our
abode all sleepiness dropped off of us and we spent another few
hours sifting through the gathered pile of mail before we finally
closed off the holiday, July 15th, by hitting the sack we had
wanted to hit ever since we'd left Kai's place.
NOW FOR THE DEDICATION NOTE.
To wrap up this article I would like to dedicate this issue of
ST NEWS to our hospitable and generous hosts - the Holst family
and Ronny Hatlemark and Anne Grete Masdal. You have given us the
opportunity to enjoy your lovely country in the only way students
can afford to, and food was both good and plentiful. You guys
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