Going to Trondheim
This day can be summarized as a lot of waiting, and not making it to my destination. It would be the first time I hitch-hiked in Norway (recall that I got here by bus), and with Trondheim 500 km away, I expected to arrive not on the same day, but needing 2 days to get there.
Charlotte and I left her apartement at 10 in the morning. We walked together to the train station as she was going to her parents' house at the north of Oslo. She wished me luck and we parted ways, her taking the train, and me taking the bus no. 31 to my hitchhiking spot, as described on a website on the internet, Aker Sykehus. Before this I took the bus to the end of its line, enjoying the view from the top of the hill and wondering if I could spot a better place to hitch-hike from. I didn't, and so the driver took me back to Aker Sykehus, which is a hospital (the word is quite similar to "sick house" in English, so I guess that's what it is). Why this place makes a spot worth mentioning I have no idea. The sykehus is a turn-off from a major artery road, but people on that road are too fast to be able to stop there, and people on the slow road are going to the hospital or are leaving it, and are pretty certain not going to Trondheim. There was also the Ring 3 road that crosses the Trondheimsveien, the road where the hospital is, but having not paid attention to the map, I wasn't really sure where I was and where I was supposed to go.
After waiting at a couple of different places (on the ring road before the roundabout, at the entrance of the highway from the hospital, I can't remember where else) while getting weird looks from people on the buses, I gave up and took the metro (there was a metro stop very close to the roundabout) back to the city. It's always hard to give up and say "This isn't working.", because there's always a chance the next car will be the one that stops. The hope dies last, as they say in German.
Back in the city, I hopped on the internet café and I looked at the map and figured out it wasn't such a bad place, but the road was basically a highway and I couldn't stand there. I looked at the alternative, a place further to the north-east called Grorud.
The spot didn't look any better, it was getting later in the afternoon, and it looked like I was going to have to spend another night in Oslo, with no couch yet. Not ready to call it a day, I took the metro to get there, feeling dumb for wasting the money on the tickets. Arriving there, I realized what a big journey I was undertaking. I was expecting to be able to see which direction I need to go to get to the highway, because the whole place would be "so small". But no, I wondered at first where the highway was (it was still the Trondheimsveien, but this spot is further from Oslo). I got out my snazzy compass, looked at it, and found the way.
To get to where I needed to stand, I had to cross the highway on an overpass bridge. I remember looking down at all the cars speeding on the highway, wondering why out of so many, none will get me there.
I got to the highway entrance, and waited. By this time it was raining lightly, and I was quite miserable. It was the entry to the highway from a small remote part of Oslo. Who would be going to Trondheim from here, I wondered. Only a few cars were entering the highway, and it was getting later.
I put on my Viking cap and hoped people would find it funny and they would stop (actually I was already wearing it even before, at the Sykehus). After about 45 minutes and 10 cars, a beat up white VW beetle (the old beetle) slowed down.
Ikke Norsk
Later on I realized why I hated it when Germans in Germany (where I've lived for 7 years) talk to me in English, or Chinese, and I was really happy when Norwegians talked to me in Norwegian, despite the fact that I don't look Scandinavian, and my rucksack shows people that I am a tourist in giant glowing letters (not literally of course).
My conclusion is, when they talk to me in Norwegian, their native language, in their mind I am already one of them, not a foreigner visiting their country (again, despite all evidence to the contrary).
I've lived in the same city in Germany for a long time, and when people talk to me in English, or Chinese, I feel like they're treating me as an outsider, and it really ticks me off. Maybe it's just me, but that's how I feel...
Apparently in Norway (and Scandinavia in general) you don't have to be tall, blonde and be blue-eyed to be Norwegian. They have a lot of immigrants, and it seems like their migrant integration programs work better compared to Germany's.
The driver asked me something in Norwegian.
"Sorry, do you speak English?", I replied.
"Oh, you're not Norwegian?", he asks despite all evidence to the contrary (an Asian with a big rucksack screaming "Tourist!"). Maybe the hat confused him.
It turns out he wasn't Norwegian either, buat a Swede, and his name is Juan, funnily enough. He works in Oslo but lives across the border in his farm in Sweden, so he makes a lot of money in the city and lives quite cheaply in a village. Quite clever, I would say.
It was also my first ever ride in the iconic VW bettle, I realized. It was in a quite rough state, but Juan was fixing it, he said.
We drove for only a short while, across the cool green fields and gray drizzly skies of "outside Oslo", but he did take me to the E6, the highway that goes all the way to Nordkapp, and more importantly at the moment, to Trondheim. He was turning east to go to Sweden, and we parted ways on a gas station on the E6. Luckily it was a sheltered one, because by now it's quite wet out on the open.
The first person I asked at the gas station, an older gentleman in an SUV/pick up truck, said yes immediately (Woo hoo!). But he wasn't going to Trondheim, just to Elverum, about 140km from Oslo (and 360km to Trondheim). It was already 18:45, and not knowing how my luck was going to be, I decided to take his offer (I don't think I said no to a ride even once during the whole trip).
The man was very friendly. He even speaks German, and is married to one. He's been working in the forests in the south of the country, taking measurements, and the back of his truck was full of his gear. Like a lot of Norwegians, he's an outdoorsman at heart.
Lillehammer
My original plan included a stop at Lillehammer, one version even included a trek on foot between Oslo and this winter olympic town. That would have been... interesting. Too bad I was a bit hurrying to fit the whole trip in 8 weeks.
We drove - in the not-so-pleasant weather - next to Mjøsa, the largest lake in Norway, which goes all the way north to Lilllehammer. After a while, the road branched to highway no. 3. It is a branch of the E6 that later rejoins it before Trondheim, meaning both roads lead to Trondheim. Highway 3 is the shorter way to get there, while the E6 is the more scenic route.
The man was going to Elverum, which is on the highway 3. He asked if I wanted to be dropped off there, just before the turn-off. There was a small resting place, which looked really abandoned, and besides, it was still wet outside. I decided to continue with him to Elverum and try my luck there.
32km later, we were at Elverum, or to be exact, Grindalsmoen, about 1km away. The man dropped me off at a gas station, and went home to his wife. It was past 8 PM, but because it was summer, the sun wasn't setting until really late. The waiting game began again. For the next 3 hours, I switched from walking up to people and asking them if they were going to Trondheim to waiting with my thumb out at the gas station exit.
At 11 PM, I gave up, and wondered where I could sleep. It was my first night in the "wilderness", without the comforts of a couch. I had a tent, but have never had to pitch one up in all of my life. And I couldn't see where there's a big empty field (or forest) I could pitch it up on/in. (If only I had Google Maps :).)
Next to the road (as you can see in the picture above) there were wooden walls acting as sound barriers. I walked along it until I found a gap for a pedestrian footpath, that led to some houses. The houses were not directly beside the wall, but having a gap where trees were. I decided to sleep under one of those trees, quite close to the first house, actually, and violating the "you can camp anywhere, but at least 150m from any structure.".
Because I was being sneaky, I couldn't really pitch up my bright red tent. So I just unrolled my sleeping mat and sleeping bag, and tried to get some sleep. It wasn't a good sleep, with so much light outside, and mosquitos all over my face (I solved this problem by pulling my pullover up to cover it).
I did manage to sleep, and got up as it was getting light out, i.e. just before 5 in the morning. I packed up all my stuff and walked back to the gas station, to continue on with the hitch-hiking. Maybe I'd get a ride with people on business who have to go to Trondheim early in the morning, I thought.