The ol’ Dubrovnik to Trondheim, Norway flight

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It was a long day of buses, airplanes, and airports today. Masayo and I left Dubrovnik, Croatia and continental Europe behind, and flew a series of planes all the way up to Trondheim, Norway (stopping in London and Oslo on the way).

Norway was a last-minute decision we made a few days ago, after realizing that the trip was getting too long and we wouldn’t be able to return to Albania and Montenegro, nor go to Bulgaria, Romania, and Moldova as we planned.

So expensive Norway is our final blowout celebration for the trip’s end. We elected to see two towns in the north; maybe we can see the Northern Lights, which neither of us have ever experienced.

My BG at 8 am in Dubrovnik was 124 and — spoiler alert — it wouldn’t be over 200 the entire day, despite my history of bad BGs and flying. Masayo made the last ham and eggs, and I had an eclair and some leftover muesli. It was perhaps too much food for the Humalog shot I took, I thought.

I also noticed I only had two OneTouch Ultra strips left in the last bottle I brought from Japan. I have another bottle of 50 I got in Albania a few days ago, but it has a different code so I couldn’t consolidate them. I’d need more than the two Japanese strips for the day, so I’d have to carry both bottles, though they barely fit in my diabetes pouch.

We checked out of our room in Dubrovnik and hiked up to the cable car station near Old Town as we’d scoped out yesterday. Other travelers were there, waiting for the airport shuttle bus. I bought our tickets at a small shop across the road.

 

The bus came right on time, and we all piled on. Inside the airport I checked my BG to see what all that breakfast had done. It was 181, not bad at all for that. And — spoiler alert again! — that would be the highest of the day.

Our flight left on time, and we flew low up over the coast of Croatia, watching the puffy clouds and the beautiful islands pass below. We could also see the distant snowy mountains further inland, in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

The plane then went across Western Europe, over the stunning and inviting Italian Alps and eventually past France and to the southern coast of England. I took a shot and had a chicken wrap that British Airways gave us, plus a small bottle of red wine that went very well with it.

We landed at Gatwick airport, but our connecting flight was leaving from Heathrow. So, for £50, I had bought two tickets for a National Express shuttle bus between them. We hoped we’d have enough time. It was by far the part of the schedule that made both of us worry the most.

The bus I bought tickets for left at 14:55, but in fact we were out of the airport early. A 14:35 bus was waiting, and I asked the guy if we could get on it. It was raining, and there weren’t many people. It is supposed to be a £5 fee for changing plans, but he said no problem, we could go.

 

The traffic between the airports was pretty light, and despite the rain we barreled through. Unfortunately the road we took is only through the countryside — I didn’t see a hint of any city or anything. So, I have technically been to London but not really.

At Heathrow we checked in and waited for the flight. I checked my BG there, and was pleased that it was 109. Masayo was hungry, so we sat down and shared the last of the cookies and some figs we had, for which I took a small shot. Our next two flights, London to Oslo and then Oslo to Trondheim, were on Scandinavian Airlines (SAS) and there was no meal service, so we bought a surprisingly affordable set from a convenience store: sandwich, chips, and a drink for £4.

On board the flight to Oslo, I took a shot after counting the carbs in my food, and had my meal. It was tasty, made tastier by the fact that I wasn’t high like I so often have been on airplanes.

The layover in Oslo was short, and after admiring the Scandinavian wood furnishings of the airport, we got on the plane bound for Trondheim, about halfway up the Norwegian coast. At first the plane was de-iced while we sat on it (I hoped it would be enough, but I figured the Norwegians knew what they were doing) and up we went.

 

The flight was short and we landed, for the third time today, a few minutes early in Trondheim, a city I’d always noticed on maps but never thought I’d get to visit myself. At the baggage claim, I checked and was not surprised to find I was low: it was 51, and I felt it. I had a Twix while Masayo found her big bag. (I pack so light that I never have to check anything.)

We found a bus that was going to the center of Trondheim, and the English-speaking driver, a very patient, kind, and competent older man, assured us he would tell us where to get off for our hotel. Aboard the bus I took my daily Lantus shot, a rare instance of being out of the hotel room for it.

The shuttle bus was shockingly expensive, for two travelers who had gotten used to Eastern Europe prices, about $35 each. But we knew Norway would be expensive, and we were using our weeks-long budget from the countries we decided to skip for it.

 

We were indeed dropped off close to the Comfort Hotel Park, and we walked to it and checked in with no problem. It is a nice hotel, with a free breakfast buffet that reviewers on booking.com had raved about. Everything was new, clean, and modern, and a large portrait of Billie Holiday was painted on one wall of the lobby. The room is $130 a night, but worth it as a one-time special event.

We were exhausted, and I was supremely pleased about my BG control through three buses, three planes, three countries, and five airports. After a nice, mostly-hot shower, I hit the pillow and sank into a deep Norwegian sleep.

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