Changing trains in Arvika

We'd had a change of room at the Good Morning Hotel in Karlstad, due to resurfacing operations just below our original room at bedtime. It was actually quite interesting to watch the modern construction vehicles, the scraper truck equipped with a cockpit-like cabin including two computer screens and many switches and levers. But noisy, even in the quieter room at the back of the building, and we could smell the tar.

On the 16th of May, we were going to take an after breakfast train from Karlstad to Arvika, spend a couple of hours looking round this last of the Swedish towns on our itinerary and then catch the lunch hour express from there to Oslo across the border, arriving mid-afternoon. It promised to be a sunny day.

The first part of the day went according to plan, although I limped to the station with my back hurting, leaning on my suitcase.

Edane, view from the station

We had lovely views on the ride, on a train that stopped by blue, sparkling lakes, at Edane for example, before we reached Arvika. The Värmland province is Sweden's cottage country, doubtless a magnet to wealthy Stockholmers when the summer season starts. The scenery wasn't as flat as it had been further east, and Arvika is built on a hill overlooking a fairly large lake, Sweden's only inland fjord. On our arrival, we crossed the tracks and went to sit beside the lake first, I not being up to much walking. Then on the other side of the tracks across the station square we found a first rate Espresso House where we bought a light lunch. The little town was peaceful on that day. It's the kind of town where arts and music festivals take place. There's a music college here. Pedestrian streets of course, with trees. One of the older buildings had an eye-catching mural.

Espresso House, Arvika

Kommunhuset, Arvika

Returning to the station for our connecting train coming in from Stockholm we were at first dismayed to discover it was delayed (labelled fel tåg = faulty train ... fel means error, failure, etc.) by a couple of hours. In case we'd misunderstood the announcement on the board, I looked for an information office where we could make sure, only finding an AVIS car rental desk, but that was good enough. The AVIS lady was able to look up the train's status and confirmed the delay. I asked if there was somewhere where we could leave our luggage—she told us to go to the taxi office at the other side of the building, where for a fee they took care of it. Everyone speaks English, no problem.

Trefaldighetskyrkan, outside

Panel on the pulpit

So now we had more time to explore Arvika, not a great disappointment. Maybe it would have been better for me to sit still and rest my back, but curiosity got the better of me. I made it up the hill to the yellow walled school (Solbergagymnasiet) and the Trefaldighetskyrkan (built 1911), the Trinity Church: a pretty, whitewashed one with a spire. Inside, the National Romantic style of its artwork was worth seeing. Chris stayed on a bench outside in the blazing sun, getting sunburnt and listening to the birds, while I discovered the domed altar, surrounded with frescoes painted by an artist called Björn Ahlgrensson. Paintings were on the sides of the pulpit too, telling mysterious, ecumenical, didactic tales.

Trefaldighetskyrkan, inside

Back to the station, via another very attractive tea and coffee place, to see if the Oslo train announcement had altered. In fact the delay had lengthened, so we wandered back to the city park (Stadsparken) we'd found at the bottom of the hill, with its large pond and fountain, a miniature "train" going round it. We sat on a bench in the shade for ages, watching a pair of Arctic terns seemingly enjoying their aerobatics, screeching and plunging beak first into the water, dive-bombing the fish.

Stadsparken, Arvika

At last the train arrived. A young woman with her mother, a lap dog and a baby had put bags on our reserved seats so, not wanting to disturb her, we sat in empty, backward facing ones across the aisle. The baby behaved very well. On this two hour stretch of the journey the windows were grubby, so I took no photos but still appreciated the views of hilly fields and forests and read my book (The Bone People, about peculiar New Zealanders). We went through tunnels crossed the border with absolutely no hint of formality other than a "Velkommen til Norge!" announcement over the speakers, no passport check, and then we were following an impressively wide river, the Glomma, round its bends to the southwest. Logs used to be floated down it, as on the Canadian rivers. We reached Oslo three hours late.