In the U.S., this wasn't even a question. You car'd. But abroad, in major cities, a car is not necessary and can even be a pain in the ass. So we lived in Stockholm for 3 years before we bought a car. This was very, very strange to me. One the one hand, I am the type who is prone to road rage and is best separated from a vehicle that can go 150 mph. On the other hand, the Swedish rail system seems to fall apart in the winter (every winter, without fail) due to the cold. That's right. They are taken surprise every year by the icy snow and cold. Um...hello? This is Sweden, right? Land o' No Light in the winter? Just checking. I would've thought they would have worked out the temperature snag by now, but guess they are always hoping El Nino will do the work for them.

We bought a car just after taking a train ride to visit my partner's mother, in what I call the Armpit of Sweden. It's about a 5 hour trek to Tick-land (in the summer) or the Tundra (in the winter). In other words, I absolutely hate going there. But we went there two years ago in the late summer (Tick-land then, and as I indicated in a previous post, I will jump out of moving vehicles to avoid the little bastards) and got a kitten. I named her Mumin (after this weird Finnish cartoon here, in which Mumin is a giant grey hippopotamus). And we had to take said new acquisition on the train back to Stockholm.

The day we went back to Stockholm was cold, rainy, and miserable. Mumin was not pleased to be in a cage (the cat carriers here look more like bird cages, which seem more practical than the hard plastic ones in the US, but a little more open also). We get on the train, and sit in great, roomy, comfy seats-the first class seats that we had purchased. We stretch out, once again thinking how great it is to not need a car if you live in Stockholm, but can use mtero, train system, and inter-city train system. Then the conductor comes for our ticket, and sees the kitten. We are immediately banished to the pet section. It is time to bring on the pain.

Now, the pet section is for people that they hate. They hate the pet people. There are eight rows of cramped, tight seats enclosed in glass (to help with allergic people. I do understand this, honestly, but it felt very criminal. I had visions of standing on one side of the glass, banging the window, tears pouring down my face while my family stood on the other side, desperately trying to pass me tampons and cured ham.) We headed there, and I swear to God it was something out of movies of third world countries, where you expect to see someone holding a roped goat with a huge bell clanging around its throat and people passing skins filled with yak milk. There are huge dogs everywhere. Literally. Someone a few rows up has several parakeets in a cage, cheeking and playing with a bell (I knew there was a bell on that car!). A dog near us has a nervous stomach and has had an accident, and there are paper towels hiding the waste (it is solid waste, by the way, so I am not coping well). My spouse sits one row away. I sit next to a man and am holding Mumin, whom I think is close to a heart attack. At the next stop, more people get on and my partner is forced to stand. The woman beside me has no pet, but instead of being sweet and taking our more comfortable and vacant seat in the good car (which we offered her and was still vacant) she tells my partner she is going to sit there, and he can deal with it.

It pisses me off, but actually, I understand this. I always hate it when I get on an airplane and someone wants to switch seats with me. I feel like that is tempting fate. You know, as the plane goes down, Death comes through the cabin, swinging his scythe. I hysterically produce my boarding card "No, no! You're got the wrong person! I am 24E! 24E! I only switched places with that guy so that he could have a window seat! I am not the passenger you seek!"

Anyway, my partner was pissy, I was pissy, the place smelled, and there were two kids (raised by wolves I think) who kept tearing through the car, closing the glass doors and screaming when they come across dogs (which was every row, basically).
Before we get to our destination, I decide to be a good human and switch with my man and let him sit while I stand. Then someone by me yells, and I notice that water is pouring out of the bathroom next to me. It turns out the system was overflowing. A conductor comes and shuts off the water, but not before I am traumatized by what I saw in there. We're talking floaters, folks. I am still traumatized. We get to Stockholm, weary, in need of a bath, and with plans the very next weekend to buy a car.

And we haven't taken long-distance train travel since.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:19 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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