Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
express to Stockholm. You cannot just hop onto a train in Sweden, but must think about it carefully and
purchase a ticket in advance. The ticket hall had one of those systems where you take a number from a
machine by the door and wait for it to appear above one of the ticket windows. My number was 415, and the
highest number seeing action was 391. I waited for twenty minutes and the numbers advanced only to 393,
so I wandered off to the station newsagent to look at girlie magazines. The newsagent, alas, was closed, so
I looked at a couple of travel posters, and then wandered back. Not entirely to my surprise, I discovered that
there had been a frenzy of activity in my absence, and number 415 had come and gone. So I took another
number - 432 this time - and a seat and waited for half an hour. When at last my number came I presented
myself at the window and asked the man for a ticket on the 10.05 to Stockholm the next morning.
He regarded me sadly. 'I'm sorry, I do not speak English,' he said.
I was taken aback. 'Everybody in Sweden speaks English,' I protested feebly.
His sadness grew. 'I don't. Please you must to go to window sree.' He indicated a window further down
the line. 'She speaks vair good English.'
I went to window three and asked for a ticket to Stockholm the next morning. The woman, seeing the
number 432 crumpled in my fist, pointed to the number above her window. 'You have the wrong number.
This window is for number 436.' Even as she spoke a ferocious-looking lady with grey hair and a dicky hip
was hoisting herself out of her chair and charging towards me. I tried to explain my problem with the
monoglot at window five, but the ticket lady just shook her head and said, 'You must take another ticket.
Then maybe I will call you. Now I must deal with this lady.'
'You are at zer wrong window!' the old lady announced in the bellow of someone whose hearing is
going. 'This is
my
window,' she added, and tossed a haughty look to the rest of the room as if to say, Are
foreigners stupid as shit, or what?
Forlornly I shuffled over to the machine and took another number. In fact, I took three - I figured this
would give me some insurance - then retired to a new seat to watch the board. What a lot of fun I was
having! Eventually my number came around again. It directed me to return to window number five - home of
the only man in Sweden who speaks no English. I crumpled this ticket and waited for the next to be called.
But he called the next one, too. I scampered to his window and begged him not to call my remaining
number, but he did.
I couldn't bear to start the whole thing all over again. 'Please,' I said, speaking carefully, 'I just want a
one-way ticket to Stockholm for tomorrow morning at 10.05.'
'Certainly,' he said, as if he had never seen me before, took my money and gave me a ticket. It's no
wonder so many Swedes kill themselves.
