X Marks the Spot

Or not.

Today, I had really promising intentions of visiting the Moesgard Museum.  The archaeologist in me was dieing to see the bog bodies and Viking ships and reenactments.  So, bright and early, I set out for the several kilometer trek to the museum.

Several kilometers to the spot on the tourist map (in Danish) that said the museum was located there.  Several kilometers to the forest preserve south of the city.  The street I was supposed to turn off at was non-existent.

Still, doggedly, I kept walking.  It had to be here somewhere.  And then I found the next crossroad.  Which was somehow a street further west and heading the opposite direction.  I looked at the map.  I looked at the street.  Hesitantly, I passed it, thinking perhaps there was a map error.  I ended up in a separate town.  I turned back.

I asked someone on the street how to get to the museum.  She did not speak much English, so I showed her the picture on my map.  “Oh!  Several more kilometers that way!” she said, pointing in the direction I had originally been going.

I gave her a concerned glance, but followed her directions.  For several more kilometers.  I saw a sign pointing to the museum, so I kept walking.  And then, once again, there was nothing but forest.  No signs, no people, just road and trees.

I turned around again.  There were some children playing on a hill, I showed them the picture of the museum and asked where it was.  They said they didn’t know English and went for their teacher.  She said she didn’t know where it was, but it was in the area and I should keep walking, following the signs or ask someone else.

What signs?

I kept walking.

Eventually, I admitted defeat.  This was, of course, after I saw the sign pointing towards Arhus that said “6 km that way.”  At this point, I grew entirely frustrated at my not-user-friendly map in Danish and decided to back track.  My feet were sore, my hip hurt, and I was thirsty.

Cursing the entire way, I made my way for the city again.

No, no twist of irony led me to the museum (although, pride be darned, I did hope that I would find it by accident).  Instead, I made it back to the hotel restaurant, where I could at least get online, and let Odin know that I did not make it to the museum (which was our meeting place) and instead meet me here, and then…

Well, then, I did the only thing a stranded knitter could do:

I started a sock.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

http://livesoftheaerialists.com/

Just a Crazy Fiber Fairy

Circus Smirkus official Blog: the Story of 1,000 Stories

Vermont's award-winning, international youth circus!

Pollyanna Rainbow Sunshine and the Needles of Doom

Fiber, craft, life, and random silliness

creativepixie.wordpress.com/

eat up some crafty goodness with a creative momma

My Tangled Yarn Knitting Adventures

Ramblings from an obsessed knitter

Funky Air Bear

Traditional & Modern Knits

The Circus Diaries

A Critical Exploration of The Circus World...

art predator

art predator )'( seek to engage the whole soul

This Is What it is

A topnotch WordPress.com site

she shoots sheep shots

Just a Crazy Fiber Fairy

Half Crunchy Mom

No Extremes, No Judgement

by Annie Claire

Just a Crazy Fiber Fairy

Belle Memorie

Providing advice and inspiration for your authentically you wedding do!

No Parachute Theatre

theatre.aerial.dance

From My Insides Out

My journey to save myself

%d bloggers like this: