I’ve just finished up four nights in lovely Trondheim for a business history workshop.
So many new feelings: The queasy comfort of being truly full of smoked salmon. The excitement of never knowing when someone might break out in a rendition of “Let it Go.”
But before I tell you about Trondheim, I must take you to Hell.
Hell is located just next to the Trondheim airport. I was originally going to stay a night here, but couldn’t get a hotel room.
My nine year old nephew Xavier found out that there was no room in Hell for me, and felt that this was very unjust. I asked my sister if I should make a special trip just to tell him how it was, and she suggested that I should indeed go to Hell.
So I did.
That’s right Xavier, Uncle Tommy went to Hell and back, just for you.
Hell was a short walk from my hotel, and there were a few ways to get there. There was a highway to Hell, but I chose the road, which was well paved, but a little icy. It was a pretty cold day in Hell, which had frozen over a while ago. There were some places where the snow had turned to slush, so occasionally I had to go to Hell through high water.
Since it was Sunday, everything was closed. So I just stood outside the gates and stared straight into Hell, or at least the Shopping Mall. I noticed that there were plenty of shopping carts outside, so apparently nobody went to Hell with a handbasket. Also, you couldn’t get a ticket to Hell, but you could get one in Hell, if you left your car in their lot overnight.
After that, there would really be Hell to pay.
Do I really want to continue with this? Yes, I think I do!
I thought I might see a park or a playground, since Hell is for children, but the only sound I heard was Hell’s bells off in the distance.
In the end, I came home disappointed, because I had really planned to dine in Hell tonight. But I knew that I didn‘t have a chance in Hell, and besides, the sun was setting fast, so I turned around and walked back. By the time I returned it was already darker than Hell outside.