Captain Underpants, Get Bent, and Superficial Greetings

Day: 2 Tønsberg, Norway to Strömstad, Sweden

Average Speed: 15.8 km/h (second half of day put some damage on)

Miles Cycled Today: 110.5 km (68.7 Miles)

Miles Cycled Total: 215 km (133.6 Miles)

Mood: Spent

Brand Spankin' New Bike Path in Tønsberg

I'm writing this while half naked in the laundry room of a pirate themed campground in Strömstad, Sweden. 

It's much more awkward than it sounds. 

I suggest clicking this link to get a general feel for the place I'm staying at. 

There are many reasons why I am half naked in a laundry room at a pirate themed campground:

I'll Spare You the Selfie

1) I started a full load of wash, then ran to the shower in my skivvies with neither a towel nor a plan as to what I was going to do when I got out of the shower. 

2) It's cold outside. And I'm dripping wet. It's warm in the laundry room. 

3) I left my American/European power adapter at Christina's house, so now I have to charge all my devices through my Mac, which is conveniently plugged into a socket offered by said laundry room. 

So imagine you're, I don't know... anybody..., and you're whistling a happy tune ready to go pick up your laundry, and you're unexpectedly met with a jolly, beer-gutted American in his undies typing away on a keyboard. Two people have entered and rushed out since I started writing this entry, and one person simply opened the door and closed it, clearly horrified. Perhaps the Carlsberg tall boy doesn't help my image any, but when you're that close to complete self-humiliation, you may as well go the extra mile. 

If You Don't Understand this Film Reference, You're Missing Out.

I am the Uncle Eddie of Camp Daftö. 

Move Over, Jack Sparrow! Around Here, I'm Captain Underpants!

There is no reason as to why I chose a pirate-themed campground. But I've never been as much in the mood for swashbuckling as I am now. 

And I guarantee I won't be finding any booty. 

It doesn't help that this is clearly a campground for families with small children, and I am a lone male traveler with a tiny tent. Neighboring campers watched with intense curiosity as I set up my paper thin abode.

My friend, Jamie Norton from Manchester (I met him last year while cycling) sent me a pic via FaceBook Messenger just before I left in order to taunt me. It totally sums up my camping style:

Yup. That's About Right.

But enough about the dodgy guy in Site #4. Let's talk about the ride today. 

Today's Route

Elevation Profile

It started out great. Wonderful. Perfect. I had my own personal tour guide, Bent (Bent is Christina's brother. Yesterday I incorrectly named him "Berg" because I knew his name was four letters and started with B-E- and then I went with the first Scandinavian-sounding thing that came to mind... hence "Berg.").  

Bent

Bent showed up on time in full cyclist regalia with his two pound bicycle. At 40, he is handsome, physically fit, and he knows how to rock a pink jersey. 

It was a bit intimidating- the odds were stacked against me in every way, and I was ready to feel a bit humiliated, but that's not Bent. We just had a good time. And I was sad to leave him when we parted ways at the ferry. 

Before he left, Bent offered sound advice about taking a route that hugged the coastline rather than the route that Google suggested. 

I am sad to say I chose Google over Bent. It was- most likely- a bad decision.

Me and Bent

While not particularly scenic, my first 70 kilometers today were fine. I felt good. I was maintaining a good pace. I even had a serene lunch at an obscure fisherman's cove.

Obscure Fisherman's Cove

Maybe it was my choice to listen to some NPR Podcasts that threw off my focus. I love Ira Glass, but they don't blare his voice in Gold's Gym for a reason. Or maybe I'm just out of shape. 

Probably the latter. 

But that last 40 km... good grief.

A strong headwind (the worst of the natural elements in my opinion) showed up out of nowhere. The sky darkened. The traffic grew dense. And some painfully steep, long climbs broke my spirit a bit.  

I ran out of energy and took frequent breaks. Food, energy gels, and water weren't much help. It was simply miserable. A 40 km slog that made me forget about the wonderful morning.

Another thing that's a little disconcerting- and I talked this over with my hosts last night- is a distinct stark cultural difference between Americans and Europeans. I had forgotten about this difference since I was last here.

In America (and this is a general observation) we tend to be overly polite. We go out of our way to say "Hello!" and "How are you?" or "Hey!" when passing someone in a relatively uncrowded area. For instance, if an American is on a hike in the woods, and he/she passes someone headed the other way, it is very likely he/she will offer a greeting. It may be superficial, but it's what we do. Sometimes we greet people by saying "Hey! How are you?" and start launching into our conversation without giving the person the chance to respond to the "How are you?" prompt. In fact, the expected response to "How are you?" is "Good!" no matter what the person being asked is actually feeling at the time.

In Europe, these types of greetings are the exception- not the rule. When the occasional cyclist passes, there is no greeting. No nod. No "What's up?" It was awkward for me when Bent and I passed a homeowner trimming his hedges earlier today and there was no exchange of greeting. 

And that's fine. Their logic is "Why would I ask 'How are you?' when I don't care?" 

The strangers here are perfectly polite people and will help you in any way that they can if you stop them to ask for help... they're just not likely to acknowledge your existence unless you specifically ask for your existence to be acknowledged. 

And when they are done helping you to the best of their ability, that's it. Job over. Move on.  

Again, it's not at all a bad thing. It's just... different. 

But I'm kind of attached to the unnecessary politeness in American society. If you're American and reading this, count the number of times you offer a greeting, or an unnecessary apology, or an "excuse me" or a "thanks" in an average single day when you're out and about. If you're anything like me, that number is high. And I like it. 

Those surface-level greetings and acknowledgements are often a kind of fuel for me. Simple interactions with people. I miss it a tad. I could've used it in the last 40 km.

That being said, Maybritt in the adjoining campsite just offered me her power adapter , her chair, and her heavy citronella candle to pound in my tent stakes (I've since clothed myself and moved back to my campsite). No questions asked. 

And she even saw me in the laundry room- Swashbuckling with a Carlsberg tall boy and a Macbook. 


P.S.

The Crime Rate in Sweden is Exactly 3.5%

...Because beer here can only be sold with a max 3.5% alcohol content... and that's a crime.