Bright Midnight

When we come to a stop, I shrug on my jacket, peering out at the rain that’s just started to pelt the train station, running down the windows, and grab my backpack from the luggage rack between the cars. For some reason, when I imagine myself traveling somewhere, I always imagine the weather being sunny. I do this regardless of the season and it always comes to bite me in the ass.

This time, I booked a private room at a small hotel in Trondheim’s “old town,” and while it looked like a short walk on the map, now that the rain is falling, and my phone’s GPS is telling me it’s more like 30 minutes, I decide to stay put in the train station and hopefully wait it out. There are cabs outside, and I can’t figure out if Uber operates here, but I’ve put my mind to saving money wherever I can. Plus, it can’t rain forever and the walk will do me good to burn off those waffles with the strange brown cheese.

But when one hour turns into two and I’m getting bored and anxious waiting in the station, drinking bottles of Brus—some fizzy apple juice that’s to die for—I decide to hoof it. It’s colder up here than it was in Oslo and it really cuts through you, even in the train station.

I stand on the steps watching for cabs or cars with an Uber sign, but see nothing until a dark grey VW station wagon pulls into a parking space and a girl my age with wild red hair comes out, wrapping a mustard yellow scarf around the neck of her leather jacket and lighting up a cigarette. I can see there’s a couple of people still in the car, but they’re not getting out.

She comes up the steps until she’s beside me under the shelter of the overhang and peeks in the glass windows to the station before giving me a quick smile and saying something to me in Norwegian.

“Sorry…,” I start to say, not understanding her.

“Oh, you don’t speak Norwegian,” the girl says quickly, taking a drag of her cigarette. Like most people I’ve met here, her accent is softened when she speaks English and she speaks it perfectly. “That’s fine. I was just wondering if the train had come in.”

“I was on the one from Oslo, got in a few hours ago but that’s it.”

She frowns at me and I count a smattering of freckles across her nose. “You’ve been hanging out at the train station for hours? I’m telling you, it’s not the best that Trondheim has to offer.”

“I was waiting for the rain to let up and then walk to town, then I figured I would get a cab, but I don’t see any anymore.”

She looks up at the sky. “It isn’t letting up. There hasn’t been a lot of rain here this spring so it’s really letting loose.” She glances at me. “Where are you from? Canada?”

“New York,” I tell her.

“Cool,” she says with a nod. “My mother lives there, but I’ve never been. It’s on my bucket list, though.”

“You live in Trondheim?”

She shakes her head. “Actually, I live in Paris. I’m just visiting family, friends.” She sighs and gives me a goofy smile. “I come here a few times a year, it’s so easy with the flights. But even so, each time I come I have to do the rounds and visit everyone I ever knew. I’m picking up my friend today, then I’m heading back to see my family, and then back to Paris. One day I’ll go on vacation to actually relax.”

“Sounds busy,” I comment, grateful that this girl is so open and talkative. “I loved Paris, wish I could have stayed longer. Too expensive.”

“And yet, here you are in Norway.”

I laugh, brushing my bangs off my face and leaning further back out of the rain. “I know. The prices are killing me so far. I only got to Oslo the other day, but I already feel my bank account draining. But it’s been my dream to come here and some things are worth it, you know?”

“Totally,” she says, blowing a puff of smoke over her shoulder and away from me. “That was it for me and Paris. I work there. But it’s so easy here in the EU to do that. Are you just traveling? Wandering? Working?”

“A little of all that,” I tell her.

She nods and makes a little noise in agreement, the tone rising up at the end. “Well where are you going now? Do you want a ride?”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” I tell her. Though I’m touched that she offered, the last thing I want is to put this stranger out.

She gives me a dismissive way. “Come on. It’s no problem. Where are you staying?”

“The Gustav Hotel. I think it’s in old town.”