Life's Coincidences a/k/a Answered Prayers

I was riding down the coast of Norway on the Hurtigruten, salivating over the tiny little isolated cabins set every few miles - little colored shacks, some only accessible by boat, perched here and there on the landmasses created at the sea’s edge. While I enjoy all that goes with city life – bars and friends and the energy of a city; I am most at home with myself with my books in some isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere. As long as I can remember, it was my dream to have a cabin in the mountains, at least ten miles from the nearest person, with a library like the one in the movie My Fair Lady, and a kickass stereo. The revised dream version 1.2 now includes a high speed internet connection. As I watched dream house after dream house pass me by, I looked up at the heavens, and said, somewhat jokingly, “That’s what I need! A little cabin, in the middle of nowhere, to write for a week…. With an internet connection!” I laughed at this last part. An isolated cabin might be possible but with an internet connection was certainly not!

Three days later I was on the train from Bergen to Oslo. The train was supposedly sold out so I had taken up residence in the restaurant car until the conductor came to check my ticket - at which point I would play dumb tourist and hope they would take pity on me. It was my brother who taught me it is often easier to get forgiveness than permission. I was at my table, typing away, when a young man with a foreign accent asked if he could sit there. He was in his mid-twenties with brown curly hair hidden beneath a surprisingly flattering tweed borsalino cap, broad shoulders on a medium size build, and one hell of an ass. Sorry. It feels sometimes a bit incestuous to check out men who aren’t much older than my son but this was an ass you couldn’t help but notice. He began reading his book as I continued to type. After fifteen minutes or so, he looked up at me – I was typing but staring out the window beside him – and asked, “Writing a book?” “Does it show?” I responded. He told me he could see me thinking, searching in my mind for the right words.

I saw in him the wide-eyed amazement for the world and the interconnectedness of all things that I had, I realized in that moment, been slowly losing.

The conversation flowed easily between Jero and I. He was 26 and on holiday in Norway for a month. He had had some amazing experiences – hiking remote places, staying at a husky farm with dozens of husky puppies around, and even making friends with reindeer in the wild. We shared stories of travels, connections, and of the coincidences that drive life in new and befitting directions. I saw in him the wide-eyed amazement for the world and the interconnectedness of all things that I had, I realized in that moment, been slowly losing. In a strange way he restored some of my innocence in those few hours talking on the train.

The train conductor took issue with us sitting there after the first two hours. She had already gotten testy with me over the ticket; telling me the train was sold out before giving me a seat assignment (huh??). I guess that’s why she waited until Jero was in the restroom to tell me in a none to friendly voice, “Please find your seat; this IS a restaurant car.” She hadn’t said anything to the father and son who had been at the table next to us since the train started, nor the two ladies at the table behind us, so I didn’t feel particularly compelled to move. “I was just about to get something to eat, “ I responded. She stomped off.

Jero returned a few minutes later. We strategically ordered for the next two hours – first he ate, then me, then he ordered a small bottle of wine, sipping it as if it were a 1966 Chateau Neuf du Pape. It was pissy, I know, but she really should have asked everyone to move or no one. Four hours into our conversation, as I was telling Jero about my plans, I mentioned that I really need to stop somewhere for a few days to catch up on writing. He told me I was welcome to use his place for a couple weeks. He had bought a little cabin in the south of Belgium but was only there on the weekends. “Wow,” I exclaimed. “That would be awesome!” He cautioned me, “The only problem is it is really isolated; I mean there is really nothing nearby.” I laughed, “Oh that’s not a problem, trust me. That’s perfect for me!” Then he looks at me and says, “It is small but at least it has a highspeed internet connection.”

I looked out the window and up at the heavens. “Thanks. I never would have guessed you were listening.”