At eleven Hirtshals glides past the rails, creamlike clouds and seagulls hanging above it.
The ferry goes half an hour before the scheduled time. I have already had a filling breakfast in Sindal (why do hotelkeepers think that their guests like butter and jam in tiny plastic cups?), helped Spaniards in the gas station who understood nothing although the screen gave me instructions in Estonian, stood a long queue in port looking at diverse rooftop tents and found out that three beds out of four in my cabin are already occupied. In the port also a whole row of exactly the same looking Volkswagen Touaregs waited to get onboard.
As a summary of Denmark one can say that Danish are very eagerly smiling. They start smiling already when there’s a faint threat of somebody coming.
As planned many years ago I set Musil aside for some time and start with Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy. I got it as a gift for a presentation on some weird conference and decided right away to read it while on the ferry to Iceland. What else to do here.
Because of this ferry trip I’ve become a car owner against my will. When I asked on what conditions may I take the leased car to Iceland for many months then the answer was that it is not allowed to take the car to Ireland for so long. After follow-up comment that these are actually two different islands there was never a response so it was obvious that me and the leasing company have nothing further to talk about.
Checking into the cabin again I discover that I share it with three ladies who look like moomin trolls and are very surprised to see me. After some discussion in Danish they manage to find out that the fourth bed has been lowered to horizontal position while they’ve been away and a black backpack has appeared on it. When we meet next time then the ladies are already cheery and inquire what language is spoken in Estonia and how many people actually live there. They go to the Faroe Islands.
In café a Faroese-Danish movie is shown, in Icelandic and with English subtitles. Internet onboard costs a fortune. Food quality is modest.
The whole day gray uneven Atlantic Ocean surrounds the ferry with sun patches wandering on the water.