Rwandabe

The bordercrossing was an easy one for me as Swedes for some reason are among the 4 non African nationalities which get free entry to Rwanda. Arriving in the capital was a bit of a shock as everything was so unafrican: clean, wide, palmlined avenues with streetlights, flowing traffic and drivers following traffic rules, buses with set prices, motorcycle taxis who will only take one passenger and offer helmets were just some of the crazy first impressions that met us. Rwanda has a very tragic history though as most of you probably know, just 18 years ago one of the crulest and most brutal genocides ever took place in the small landlocked country as over 1 million people were killed in a hundred days. We spent almost two weeks in Kigali visiting some of the sights, including a brilliant memorial museum, a couple of churches just outside the city which witnessed some of the worst massacers and Hotel Milles Collines where the events of the Hollywood movie "Hotel Rwanda" took place. Our visit to Rwanda happened to coincide with "Memorial Week" where the country pretty much shuts down to mourn the victims of the genocide. The first week we stayed in a youth hostel but then found out about a hotel which was going to be closed to the public due to the remembrance, so we linked up with a third Paul from England, two Swedes, an American and Mitchell who showed up in the fourth consecutive country, to turn the empty grounds into a boy's club complete with swimmingpool, tabletennis-, fussball- and pool-table. The main reason we all spent so long here was because we were waiting for our Congolese visas to be approved, which has now happened and thus we shall be making a move shortly...

Monkey Business

(Authors Note: I am fully aware of the fact that none of the animals mentioned in the following post are actually monkeys, but the title has a better ring to it than ape business.)

After being diagnosed with typhoid I decided some animal-cuddling was on the papers, and headed to Entebbe Wildlife Centre together with an American guy called Preston. We stayed overnight inside the zoo and the following day got an early start volunteering. Over the next 12 hours we helped out, cleaning the cages and feeding all the different animals. It was unbelievable how much we were allowed to do and in one day I not only saw "The Big Five" but even managed to pet them. However the absolute highlight of the day was the time we spent we spent with the orphan chimpanzee babies, a long lived dream I've had since I was a very young child, and saying goodbye to the little cuties was very tough. Back in Kampala I reunited with Canadian Paul and after a couple more days in the capital we moved across to the southern hemisphere and the small town of Kabale. The town itself doesn't have much on offer apart from it's proximity to Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, which isn't slang for a nun's vagina but a National Park that houses half of the world's existing mountain gorilla population. The permit for the park is a hefty 500 U.S. Dollars (soon to be raised to $750) and the taxi back and forth from Kabale costs $100, but I knew I would regret not seeing them when I had the chance. So there are only around 700 remaining mountain gorilas on the planet and roughly 300 of them live in Bwindi while the others can be found in the rainforests between Rwanda and The Congo. Tracking them was a strenuous trek through dense jungle but after just one hour we found the gorgeous creatures having breakfast in a clearing. You are only allowed to stay with them for one hour as not to disturb them too much, but it was truly amazing to see our distant relatives at only a few metres stretch in their natural habitat. Back in Kabale we met Desiree from Colorado and the three of us took a long hike followed by a short canoe ride at Lake Bunyoni, after having seen the beautiful landscape here we decided to come and stay in the surroundings. The first night we stayed on the mainland and swam in the safe (crocodile-, hippo- and bilharzia-free) waters. The morning after we got in a hollowed out tree trunk and paddled to one of the small islands on the lake, we stayed there two nights and allthough the rainy season is just starting it was a really tranquil and relaxing place to be. We then caught a ride back to the mainland, this time opting for the pricier but less labouring option of motorboat. On shore Paul and I said farewell to Desiree and made for the border of Rwanda.

Up Shit Creek, But With A Paddle...

I got a bus from Kampala with a Canadian guy I met in at the hostel, confusingly also named Paul, and got to Bujagali-Falls ready to do some whitewater-rafting. The falls lie just outside the small town of Jinja, close to the source of the White-Nile. Rafting was exhilarating and at points, when the raft flips or the rapids throw you off, terrifying. Being tossed around under the strong waves for what feels like minutes only to then bob up and get stuck under the rubber-boat can be pretty scary. It wasn't quite as full on as I had expected though, when you're going down through some of the world's best rafting rapids it's all very exciting, but then between them it can be a long stretch of the Nile which you slowly paddle or just drift along. Paul and I stayed in Jinja two nights, going on the inaugural boda-boda (motorcycle) pubcrawl and relaxing at our hostel beautifully perched on a cliff overlooking the starting point of the river which has been following me for a few months, allthough this was probably the last time I see the murky waters for a long while. Then we headed back to Kampala and our crowded backpacker's hostel where once again Mitchell had caught up with me, and we could all enjoy the nightlife and general mayhem which is Kampala. Today I decided to go to the doctor as I haven't been feeling 100 percent for the past two months or so, and I finally caved in. It turns out I have typhoid fever, and I will be on medication for a fortnight, however I am determined to not let this bring me down and the quality of the blog will hopefully not suffer...     

Kampalone

Kisumu is the third largest city in Kenya, however this doesn't mean there is very much to do. It lies on the shores of lake Victoria, unfortunatly the shores are lined with garbage and it doesn't make for a very nice beach-promenade. We spent three nights in the city which was also the end of the road for Elias. He got a job offer back in Stockholm and as I travelled towards the Ugandan border he was heading back to Nairobi to catch his flight. It is very strange to be travelling alone after having my faithful companion by my side for the past five months, but I will do my best to stay safe on my own. The trip to Uganda took me back into the northern hemisphere and through your run of the mill frontiertown of Busia. It's strange crossing manmade borders where the nature seems to know it should change to give you an indication of being in a new country, and on this crossing the arid yellowish landscape transforms into lush green jungle almost imediatly. Once in Kampala I didn't have to worry about being solo as the Backpackers Hostel was like stepping into the South East Asian travel scene, with a huge number of youngsters sitting around playing drinking games. Seeing as I now know about half of Israel's population I inevitably bumped into four more which I had met in different Ethiopian locations, also Patrick, an American teacher working in this area of the world who I first met in Ethiopia randomly showed up at the hostel. I spent five days walking around the hilarious chaos of the city centre, seeing Gaddaffi's Mosque, savouring the slightly tastier cuisine and just generally lounging about. Tomorrow morning I head to Jinja where I will take on the Nile and do some whitewater rafting, but more about that when it's actually been done.

100th Blogpost, Kenya Believe It?

Mombasa is East Africa's busiest port and as I mentioned before Kenya's second largest city. It isn't the nicest place on the planet but the old town with winding alleyways and carved wooden doors does have a charm to it, with Fort Jesus being the main landmark. We met Mitchell (Australian guy who was part of the original Somaliland-Crew) here for what turned out to be a fun night out, even though it did make the long bus ride back to the capital slightly less fun the morning after. In Nairobi we were kindly offered shelter by Pete and Sarah who we had only just met in Diani a few days earlier. They spoilt us rotten with delicious home-cooked meals, a true blessing after the Kenyan food which is probably the blandest and most limited cuisine I have ever experienced, most of the time the only thing on offer is beans, which let's face gets pretty dull after a few spoonfuls let alone weeks. At the weekend Elias and I took a trip west to Lake Naivasha spending two days in the area. As soon as we got there we went to the small Lake Kongoni which from a distance looks like a normal lake with a pink beach, getting closer you realise this pink beach is actually hundreds of thousands of flamingos congregating along the shores which was a remarkable sight. On the walk back to our lodge we saw plenty of giraffes at just a few metres distance, zebras, gazelles and hippos. Our second day started bright and early with a biking safari in Hell's Gate National Park on the schedule. It is very rare to be allowed to go into the national parks without guides and motorised vehicles in Kenya so given the chance we had to take it. Our animal sightings were however very limited and our stroll on the previous day, which didn't have an entrance fee attached to it, saw the same if not more interesting wildlife. The savannah-scape was beautiful though, allegedly the inspiration for the animators of "The Lion King" cycling between jagged red cliffs and gorges it wasn't hard to believe this rumour. Biking in a reserve though is no walk in the park, and with the bashed up bicycles we were given it was pretty punishing going up steep inclines in sandy dirt tracks, to be honest it was probably good we didn't see any of the more dangerous animals that have been seen on the site as we would have been easy prey. After this weekend we went back to our generous hosts who just kept on treating us as kings with more amazing food, so on our last night with them we decided we wanted to give something back and took them to the restaurant aptly named Carnivore. This is not an ideal place for vegetarians as the waiters keep bringing you meat of all different kinds: the usual beef, chicken, turkey, lamb and pork with more unusual cuts of crocodile, ostrich and ox-testicle, until you put the flag on your table down and surrender. I can honestly say I have never been so full in my life, and the stomach cramps I had after this session were almost on par with what I experienced having appendicitis, but it was worth every bite. The following day we had the healthy option of frozen yoghurt for lunch and then caught a matatu going west to the city of Kisumu.

Life's a Beach

We limited our time in Kenyas two largest cities, Nairobi and Mombasa, to as little as we could, wanting beachlife and knowing that we would be coming back to both at some point soon. So after hitting the porttown we started an itinerary of beachhopping along the Swahili- Coast with our first leap being to Shimoni. In the tiny fishing village just a few kilometres from the Tanzanian border we met up with a group of Israelis we had first met in Addis Ababa and stayed two nights camping with them and exploring the mangrove shores. After Shimoni, Elias and I moved on north to Diani, one of the most postcard- perfect beaches I've ever seen, where pearly white sand lined with coconut palmtrees meets the turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean. It was also in Diani that Emily decided to make an unexpected return to this blog, faithful readers may remember her from the start of the trip in Berlin, Prague and Hungary. She took a short trip to her Fatherland of Kenya together with her sister Mokasa, and we met one night in Diani. Otherwise our time here was spent doing exactly what we had intended, namely not a lot during the days and a few drinks in nice company during the hours without sunlight. Our next stop was Malindi, a small town with a beach which after Diani felt only mediocre also the place is flooded with Italians making it even less appealing. However we did manage to meet up with Emily and Mokasa here for a bit longer this time making it more pleasant. We made an excursion to the nearby beach of Watamu one day which was a much more interesting location. In the morning the tide goes out for hundreds of metres leaving coral and rockpools exposed to our greedy eyes, then after midday the tide comes back in with the difference in depth going up to as much as 3 1/2 metres. Next on the list was Lamu, an island I had heard many positive reviews about, and my high expectations were well met. As soon as you step ashore you step into a new relaxed world, no motorised vehicles to be found, instead an army of some three thousand donkeys patrol the narrow alleys of the gorgeous old town. We spent a few days getting lost in the labyrinth of mosques, markets and Swahili architecture and one day on the beach Shela, the flat island is however very vulnerable to the elements and our entire stay was accompanied by strong winds. Sadly tourism here has been hit hard due to it's proximity to Somalia and the Al Shabbab with a couple of kidnappings and murders occurring on and around Lamu in the past year. After leaving the island-life something unusual happened as I backtracked on myself, something that very rarely happens on my trips if it isn't necessary, but when we heard Itamar and Rei (two of the Israelis) were in Diani, we changed our plans of heading inland and chose to get one last sip out of paradise. We had a great barbecue back in our old campsite joined by all the monkeys and an English couple living in Nairobi called Sarah and Pete. After this one last indulgence our holiday from holiday was over and we got our sunburnt bodies back to citylife in Mombasa.

Moyale, Mo Problems!

Moyale doesn't really have a lot to offer apart from being a border town, so after a few hours sleep we got out packs on our backs again and started looking for means of transport taking us even further south. After a few hours haggling we managed to get a ride with a truck carrying stinking cow hides. During my travels I have been on many a bad road but the one between Moyale and Marsabit is a very possible contender for worst road ever, even calling it a road is doing it too many favours. And not only is the stretch of dirt bad it is also infamous for it's banditry and just days before our passing the area had blossomed into a tribal war, leaving traces of burnt down huts and school buildings along the way. We sat on top of the truck in scorching sun on the extremely bumpy and dusty dirt-track gripping onto the iron bars for dear life over 11 hours before finally reaching Marsabit. By the time we arrived every muscle had been exercised with the glutus maximus taking most of the punishment and the warm shower which awaited at our hotel was one of the most rewarding I've ever taken. The following day was spent exploring Marsabit which is your typical roadside African town, kind of like something out of an old western movie, containing a bank, a small market, some small bars and a few dodgy hotels/brothels all set along a red dirt road. Surrounding the town is a number of extinct volcanic craters which we tried to find, however the one which we did see was flooded and not very special. After two nights we continued on the bumpy road to Isiolo this time choosing the slightly pricier and more comfortable option of bus, about halfway into the drive our behinds were blessed as the Chinese labourers had managed to put down tarmac for the rest of the journey. Isiolo is pretty much a larger version of Marsabit with the same commodities on offer just in a wider variety set along an asphalt road and with Africa's second highest mountain, Mount Kenya, as it's backdrop. We did the usual walkabout and then moved on toward Nairobi. Our first minibus took us to Nanyuki where we could get on the back of a motorbike which dropped us at the equator. At the imaginary divider of the world we could stare in amazement at the wonders of physics as Coriolis Effect was demonstrated to us before getting several cramped vans to the Kenyan capital.

Addis Abyebye

Crossing back into Ethiopia went just as well as the journey had in the opposite direction. In Harar we all got back to the touristway of thinking, walking around yet another ancient walled city, however this may be the most charming so far with narrow alleyways leading between colourful houses. At night wild hyenas roam the streets, they are very tame though and we could even hand feed them raw pieces of meat. After a few days savouring the liquids available in a country which doesn't impose Sharia law we once again headed for the central hub which is Addis Ababa. We only stayed two nights on this visit then split with our newfound travelbuddies and said one final farewell to the capital and it's inhabitants we had come to know over the past six weeks or so. Elias and I then commenced a long southward bound stretch with it's first stop being Shashemane.
Shashemane is a small town surrounded by land which was once donated to the Rastafari movement by the late Emperor (or Rastafari God) Haile Selassie. After wandering around for a few hours we finally found the dreadlocked population and it's quite remarkable to find a slice of the Caribbean dead in the middle of rural Africa. Reggaebeats and Jamaican accents mixed among the bananaplantations with scents of West-Indian cuisine and marijuana, but sadly it was full of hustlers who were all out to get our money so we were quite relieved when we could get a ride to Awasa. We had intended to spend some time in Awasa, but we couldn't find any decent accommodation so we decided to keep moving south and thereby shorten the following day's travels. We got to Dila where we slept for a few hours before getting an early bus which took us to the frontier-town of Moyale, here we could cross over to the Kenyan side of town and find a place to sleep. It was a bit sad to leave Ethiopia which has been our home for a long time and I'm going to miss a lot of things: the friendly and beautiful people, the difficult language of Amharic where a simple phrase like "thank you" has six syllables, the bustrips which on a map look like a few hours at most but end up taking two days due to mountanious terrain, vehicles in bad condition and strange road-planning and of course the cheerful jeers of "YOU! Give me money!" On the other hand it is nice to know that we have only just entered a new country with loads of new impressions to come.

SoPauliland

So let's start with the facts: Technically Somaliland is still a part of Somalia, but it declared independence after the civil war back in 1991, has it's own government, constituion and currency, however it has not yet been recognised as an indepent state by any other country or organisation so until then will have to make do being grouped in with Puntland and Somalia as one official country. Out of these three autonomous regions though Somaliland is by far the safest and most stable at the moment.
After getting settled down in Hargeisa, we walked around the busy streets lined with stalls either selling bushes of the mild drug khat or fat wads of the local currency Shilling. After exchanging about a kilos worth of banknotes, our next mission was to aquire all the necessary permits, personell and papers needed to be able to move around the country. First we visited the Tourist Ministry where we after alot of haggeling managed to get access to the sight of Laas Geel, that was followed by a visit to the Police HQ where we were granted permission to travel freely between the capital and certain destinations without armed guards, our last task was to find a driver and a car who could fit five tourists and an armed guard. We managed to get everything sorted without too much hassle, and after two days in the capital we could move on north. Our first stop was Laas Geel, a desert landscape with a number of caves containing some very well preserved cave paintings from an unknown era depicting different animals (mostly cows) and humans, and suprisingly the colours are still very vivid. After this our driver drove us to the coastal town of Berbera, where we could also dismiss our private bodyguard. Berbera was a busy fishing harbour once upon a time, but today it's a dormant porttown with a small market and a few shipwrecks in the dock. A short walk from town there is a pristine sandbeach which stretches for miles and there isn't another person as far as even binoculars could see. We stayed in Berbera for three days soaking up the sun (perhaps a bit too much) tasty fish, tea and juices then got a taxi back to the capital. Here we got stuck into more of the paperwork, first getting permission to leave the country and then getting a new visa for Ethiopia, this also worked out after a bit of struggle and with any luck we should be arriving back in Harar, Ethiopia before sundown tomorrow. Somaliland turned out to be a very pleasant surprise, and to be honest up until about a week ago it wasn't really on my radar for this trip. We got the odd stone thrown at us, some insults hurled our way and the occasional deaththreat slipped under our door, but in general all people we encountered were friendly, genuinly happy to see tourists in their country and interested in where we came from. I never felt unsafe during my time here, and you know you're in a fairly safe place when people pile up huge stacks of money on the side of the street without any fear of being robbed. But now the time has come to leave this "country" in order to do so successfully though I need to catch 40 winks.

Spontaneous Travels

Bahir Dar was a nice enough, quiet, lakeside town where we relaxed for two days. It is also located close to the source of The Blue Nile, so one day we went to see The Blue Nile Falls. They were pretty albeit not as powerful as they once were, our impression was slightly hampered due to it being dry-season but also because a hydro-electric has been built nearby, minimising the flow of water. After our time here, we took a very delayed bustrip back to the world's third highest located capital where we reaquainted with our brothers and other travellers we've met in the country, and just kicked back for a few days. Back in Addis I was also reminded how small the world is, when I bumped into Theo, a friend I know from Stockholm. Unfortunatly our travel iteneraries were opposite and he was making his way back north  to Europe as we were moving south. Or at least our original plan was to move south, but then one morning we woke up and decided to go east instead with a group of people heading for Somaliland. The gang consisted of two Australians: Oliver and Mitchell, Austrian: Danyal, Singaporean: Paul and us two Swedes. After reaching Harar, Mitchell decided to slow down for a while, while the remaining five of us caught a few different cramped vehicles before finally crossing the Somaliland border and reaching it's capital Hargeisa.

Are You Gonder Come My Way?

Aksum was once where Queen Sheba had her throne but today it is only a small, dusty town with a few reminders of it's former greatness. There is a large number of stelae (stone pillars, similar to Egyptian obelisks) ranging from 1m to 33m in height and tombs marking the graves of Kings and Queens of the past but more significantly it is where the Ark of the Covenant rests. I say this as if it were fact but nobody is allowed to see the famous stone tablets which Moses brought down from Mount Sinai, and us foreigners, or "Farangis," aren't even allowed to come near the chapel where they are allegedly held. Aksum also marked the spot of my first illness for the trip. I have somehow managed to stear clear of any disease for over 3 months, but I picked up some form of food poisoning with the only real suspect being a chocolate donut I had splurged out on. After recovering from the short bug we got on a very bumpy, sweaty, dusty and long busride to the town of Gonder. Gonder is often dubbed as the Camelot of Africa, and with it's history and medieval-looking stone castles set within a walled enclosure it's not hard to see why. We strolled around the 17th century compound (hopefully marking the last of our "historic building and sights-tour" for a while) and also managed to squeeze in a short trek of the Simien Mountains to do some monkey-spotting including the endemic Gelada Baboon. After 3 days we moved on south to Lake Tana and the small town of Bahir Dar.

Injery Christmas

Our second attempt at catching the early morning bus north was more successful and after 18 hours, 1 bus, 2 overpacked minibuses and 1 flat tire we reached Lalibela just before midnight. Lalibela or Roha as it was originally called was founded in the 12th century by King Lalibela, as too many of his pilgrims were being killed whilst trying to reach Jerusalem he decided to make an own Holy-land within his country’s limits. In 23 years he somehow managed to carve 11 churches out of the rockface, but while the monuments of for example Petra are carved into the mountain most of the churches in Lalibela are freestanding having been completely cut loose from the surrounding stone. Today Lalibela is home to 15,000 people but during Ethiopian Christmas, which by chance happened to occur during our stay, hundreds of thousands of pilgrims flock to the holy sight. We made the same rookie mistake that Joseph and Mary once made not having reservations for Christmas and there was no room in any of the inns, but as fortune would have it our brother T.I. is from the village and he arranged for us to stay in his family’s house. So for the next four nights we made a room in a two-story mudhut our home and were spoiled rotten by our temporary mother who filled us with injera, coffee and tella (a homemade beer-like drink which tasted all right even if you had to siv it through your teet to catch all the twigs and residue.) When our faces weren’t being stuffed we spent our days with our brother’s brothers which technically should be our brothers… exploring the mystical rock-hewn churches, hiking in the high mountains and I managed to be crowned table-tennis king of the village. On Christmas Day we went to the market and bought a new goat, I then went for a walk and came home to a sumptuous stew, the goat must have escaped though because I never saw him again. The night was topped off with the yearly spectacular tradition of a 16 hour (and I though Donald Duck in Sweden or The Queen’s speech in England were long) live show outside one of the churches where our brother sat from the break of dawn holding the best seats in the house. The spectacle was unlike anything I’d ever seen, with drumming and dancing priests performing before me as I sat crowded on narrow wall in a snakepit of white-draped pilgrims. The show itself could have been about 15 hours shorter but the experience as a whole was entertaining to say the least. After Christmas we said farewell to our generous family who asked for nothing in return for their hospitality, and took a two day trip further north pit-stopping in Mekele before finally getting to Aksum.

Another Day In ParAddis

Even if the flight was a disappointment, it feels good to finally have reached "The Real Africa" as Egypt felt more like an extension of the Middle East. Having said that though Ethiopia is unique in every way and quite separate from the rest of
the continent. Together with Liberia the only countries in Africa never to be colonised (Mussolini's fascist Italy occupied it for a few years but never
managed to conquer) the population here is quite rightly a very proud one. The time and calendar here takes some getting used to, to say the least. We are
currently in December in the year 2004, and although we are 3 hours
ahead of G.M.T. the local watches will be 9 hours ahead seeing as the
day starts at 12:00 when the sun rises, at least that's how I think it
works.
After finding a room in Ethiopia's first hotel "Itegue Taitu" I
wandered the streets of Addis Ababa and before I knew it I had a new
brother, this soon turned into more but the 3 we have spent most time
with are: Amberber, Yonas and T.I. Our newfound brothers showed us the
ropes of the capital taking us to museums (one of which usually houses
our 3.4 million years or so old great great grandmother Lucy, however plastic replica-bones lie here now as she is touring the United States), the chaotic
hustle and bustle of Africa's biggest market "Merkato," and teaching
us the art of eating the local food injera which is a delicious,
spongy, rag-like pancake which accompanies every meal and replaces
cutlery. At night they taught us the art of drinking beer and tej
(wine made from honey) and how to dance using only your shoulders. One
of these nights may have been slightly overdone as it resulted in us
missing our early bus north, but hopefully we manage to catch the one
which leaves tomorrow morning...

In Camera Related News: I can confirm rumours that my camera is now fixed. I found a man in a tin-shack who said he'd look at it and after not finding him for a few a days, he finally showed up. And with great success he had managed to fix a camera which according to all Egyptians I asked was way beyond repair. However don't get your hopes up about pictures on here too soon as internet connections aren't exactly the most reliable around here.

Easyopia

A wise man once said: "We must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy." That wise man was Albus Dumbledore...

In most cases I would like to think that I choose what is right, but sometimes the easy choice is just too convenient. So when I was faced with the two options of either applying for a new passport and then a new visa for Sudan which would take a lot of effort and very long time or just flying over and landing in Ethiopia, the easy option proved too tempting. 
It's strange because when I started planning this trip I always knew Sudan would be a nightmare of a place to travel through, but over time it had really become a nightmare I was looking forward to. So it is quite dissapointing how much damage this one Israeli stamp can cause and being a rather stubborn person I hate breaking my own rules and not achieving my goals, but then another wise man told me: "Goals are deceptive, an unaimed arrow never misses it's target." Actually I'm not sure who told me that, it may have been on the inside of a Mars-bar wrapper, but still.
Anyway we did take a flight from Cairo to Addis Ababa, and that's where we are now.

Luxorious Travel

Founded by Alexander the Great in 332 BC, and the capital of Cleopatra's Empire, Alexandria lies strategically on the Mediterranean coast. It was once the home of the world's largest library and the Pharos Lighthouse which was an ancient wonder of the world, however both landmarks were destroyed long ago and today the town offers more of a French colonial charm. We spent two days strolling along the corniche, seeing different sights and museums before catching the train back to Cairo. In Cairo we got on the night-train south along the Nile confusingly taking us from Lower Egypt to Upper Egypt, arriving in the Nubian part of the country and the town of Aswan the morning after. In Aswan we saw the world's third highest dam, aptly named The High Dam, and it was damn high. Then started our temple-run tour, seeing Philae and the impressive but hard to reach Abu Simbel. We stayed one night cruising the world's longest river in a felucca (traditional Egyptian sailboat) before heading north to Luxor where our temple-spotting continued. We checked off Kom Ombo and Edfu on the way up before adding: Hatshepsut, Luxor, Karnak and the tombs in the Valley of the Kings once we had gotten to the city. So we have now seen thousands of hieroglyphs and our study can only come to the conclusion that there is not a single one which depicts the classic "Walk like an Egyptian" pose, and this must therefor be a myth either started by The Bangles or of unknown origin. After two days in Luxor we caught the night-train back to Cairo, where we now have a day to kill before moving onto new destinations...

In garnment related news: A testament to how much walking we've done is the fact that both of us have worn out the shoes we started the trip with, and thus have had to reward ourselves with new footwear, suitingly on or slightly prior to Christmas, which should hopefully last us a while.

Walk like an Egyptian

Port Said lies at the northern most point of the Suez Canal where it meets the Mediterranean Sea. It was good to see this marvelous feat of mankind, but in all honesty there wasn't really alot to see, so the next day we got on a bus to Cairo. In Cairo we found a hostel just a stones-throw (pun intended) from the famous Tahrir Square which has been the center of attention during the recent Egyptian Revolution. There were alot of people gathered in and around the square, but the demonstrations we witnessed seemed peaceful allthough there were apparantly some bloody clashes with several fatal casualties during our time in the capital. We spent our time here walking around the crowded, messy  streets and crazy traffic. We had a full day of pyramid scheming, going to three different sights including the only remaining ancient wonder of the world, the Pyramids of Giza. It was very impressive to finally see these incredible structures which were somehow built here over 4000 years ago, but the experience was slightly hampered by the pestering camel-touts and hustlers lurking everywhere. The Egyptian Museum was also an interesting experience and it's incredible how well preserved everything is, however the large amount of exibits, over 100,000 items, including: tombs, mummies and the golden treasures found in Tutankhamen's tomb, make it almost too much to take in. After four days in the huge city we moved on to Alexandria.

They tried to make me go to Dahab...

I'd like to start by appologising and adding two corrections to my previous post.

Nr 1: The Tajik city of Dushanbe has erected a flagpole which is 165m tall, also there is a North Korean flagpole which stands at 160m and therefor the flagpoles in Amman and Aqaba have been knocked down to fifth and fourth place respectivley.

Nr 2: I wrote that we would take the ferry across the Red Sea to the African Continent. Technically I think the African continent starts west of the Suez canal, so even if we have now reached Egypt we are still in Asia on the Sinai Peninsula. 

Now back to business. After some more Amazing Race style running we just managed to catch the ferry following some contradicting information on departure times. Two hours later we were in the harbour of Nuweiba where we after some minor problems were allowed entry to Egypt. From here we got in a minibus which drove us to Dahab. Not long ago a quiet Bedouin fishing village on the shores of the Red Sea, backpackers found Dahab and converted it into a tranquil beach spot. Today it has once more transformed and now offers relaxation to a wider spectrum of tourists. We enjoyed our first real beach-life of the trip and wasted a few days just relaxing on the small beach and snorkeling in the crystalblue water. Unfortunatley it was in these clear blue settings I was tempted to experiment my camera's underwater features. It turns out my camera is not quite as waterproof as it claims to be, and doesn't function properly anymore. After getting our dose of sea, sand and sun we travelled north on the Sinai Peninsula through the desert and stopped at the Mediterranean mouth of the Suez Canal in the town of Port Said.

Petrafied

Being one of the modern 7 wonders of the world, made famous by Steven Spielberg in the third installment of Indiana Jones and perhaps even more famous by Karl Pilkington in season one of "An Idiot Abroad," Petra had a whole lot to live up to, and it really did. We got to the town of Wadi Mousa early on Saturday morning, found a hostel and got straight to the ancient sight. Petra was built by the Nabateans around 2400 years ago and most of what is still visible today was originally tombs carved out of the sandstone cliffs. We spent the first day trying to see all the major points of the vast landscape and then got an early start on the second day walking off the main trails getting away from the busloads of Japanese and American tourists and within a minute you are all alone walking amongst tombs and mountains with incredible views of the valley shifting in different shades of red, orange and yellow. Petra may very well be the most beautiful place I have ever seen and who can put a price on seeing that... Well somebody did and apparantly it is 50 Jordanian Dinars (500 kr) for one day, however a two-day pass is only 55 JD so taking an extra day is well worth it. I could have spent weeks walking around the unbelievable scenery but we decided to get a move on and made our next stop the Wadi Rum desert. Once again this required an early start as we first got a bus to the desert entrance and then spent the whole day being driven around the red sand landscape in a 4x4. After that we got to our Bedouin tent-camp, watched the sunset and had a huge dinner. It gets pretty cold at night around these parts, but seeing all the stars and the fullmoon in absolute silence made the freezing sleep worth it. The following morning we got a taxi to the nearby town of Aqaba, where we saw what was once the world's tallest freestanding flagpole (today in second place at 130m high with the same flag dimensions as the flag in Amman, the tallest flagpole is located in Turkmenistan so this should be the last I write about it for a while at least.) I also managed to complete my trio of Med, Dead and Red for the trip by taking a quick dip in the waters off the Aqaba coast. Tomorrow we hope to get the ferry across these same waters and with any luck finally reach Egypt and the African continent.    

This is Amman's World

The trip from Jerusalem to Amman should have been pretty straight forward, just crossing a bridge over the river Jordan and then arriving in the capital an hour or so later, but you know how things go. After taking a minibus to the Allenby-Bridge border we were told they couldn't issue visas for us there so we should go to the Sheikh Hussein bridge a few hours north. Our problem was that we had passed a checkpoint two minutes drive away, something the taxi-drivers knew, and thus they could charge us 50 shekels (roughly 100kr or 10£) for the short ride. Our luck changed for the better short after as the first car that passed turned out to be driven by a friendly Israeli named Roy, who had done some backpacking and felt sorry for us. Roy gave us a lift half the way up north, where we could catch a bus. After about an hours wait the bus arrived and we were on it for a while until the next checkpoint, where Israeli soldiers found us suspicious and decided to search our luggage and interrogate us in the pouring rain, after we were cleared of any possible crime we got back on our bus for a bit more. When we got off the bus we asked the driver how far the Jordan border was and he told us 5-10 minutes walk, this turned out to be 90 minutes (carrying about 1/3 of my bodyweight on my back) Finally we reached the control and had no problems on either side, then we got a 2 hour cab-ride to Amman and managed to find a bed and some food, 10 hours after setting off. The following morning we walked around the city, seeing the ancient citadel, markets and what was once the worlds tallest freestanding flagpole (today in 3rd place with a flag measuring 60x30m waving off of a 126.8m high pole.) Other than this there didn't seem to be all that much to see so we caught the earliest bus to Petra on Saturday morning. 

Everyday's a Holyday

We kept on following Jesus footsteps but opted for the bus to Jerusalem rather than hike. Jerusalem was an exciting place and we spent a jampacked week exploring the city and nearby locations, here follows a brief explanation of our excursions.

Jerusalem: To use a cliche, it is a place steeped in history, the old city confined inside the old city walls dates back about 3000 years and is home to some of the holiest sights of the three major religions; Judaism, Christianity and Islam, today it is dived by these three groups and the fourth quarter belongs to the Armenians (of course.) We stayed in a hostel just outside the old city which turned out to be a good option as once again there was an interesting crowd of people here and the nightlife was entertaining. Jerusalem also boasts the new Holocaust Museum which was very moving although it leaves you slightly drained after spending almost an entire day inside the complex.

Hebron: A very complex situation, today most of Hebron is Palestinian, but Jewish settlers have claimed a portion of the town. So now 4000 Israeli soldiers control the border and try to keep the four hundred Jews (who appear to be the worst troublemakers) apart from the 150 000 Palestinians who live on the other side of the occupied territory.

Bethlehem: Oh little town which is in the West Bank and part of the Palestinian territory, another place very important to the life of Jesus as according to the fairytale this is where he was born. However I was more impressed with the huge wall erected by the Israelis to separate themselves from Palestine and the graffiti upon it amongst many artists I saw my first Banksy pieces in Bethlehem.

Dead Sea: We went to Ein Gedi beach at the lowest point on earth to enjoy a relaxing day at the spa, but when we reached the spa we were told they had no running water so we chose the free public beach to take in this fascinating experience which words can't really describe. Floating effortlessly in the extremely salty sea completely blew my mind.

However after more than a week, we felt we needed to get moving again and wanted to get out of Israel before the Sabbath (or Shabbat) which falls roughly between Friday sunset and Saturday sunset, and completely shuts down the entire nation, including transport. So Thursday morning we started our trip towards Jordan...

Nazareth of fresh air

We got to Nazareth and The Fauzi Azar Inn, which is probably the most beautiful hostel I have ever seen, without any complications. Then we spent two full days exploring what Jesus former hometown had to offer. There wasn't as many tourists as I had expected which was nice, and it was interesting visiting places where fictional events I've heard about all my life took place, kind of like visiting Hogwarts or Narnia. We hiked around town and the Lake of Galillee seeing the church of multiplication, the basilica of annunciation, the small village of Capernaum and loads of other scenes from the best-selling book, then decided we were done with Nazareth and got on the bus via Afula to Jerusalem.

I's raeli F*cked it up this time!

After breaking the rules and getting on the short flight, things went from bad to worse as my left ear started playing up. In this one moment of deaf weakness I let my guard down and managed to get the one blodge of ink that I can't have in my passport. It all went very fast and before I knew it I saw the fateful Israeli stamp punching against my clean page right next to my Sudanese visa. This messes up months of planning as I will need to get a new passport and visa if I want to enter Sudan, but I just have to take it for what it is and laugh at how ridiculous the rules and regulations of the world are. Tel Aviv turned out to be a great city after a short interogation and a few hours sleep at the airport we got to our hostel in the trendy Florentine area. We ended up staying longer than we had planned as we got comfortable not doing alot really. We walked around the different markets, went for a jog and swim at the beach, saw the old town and port of Jaffa, watched the Tel Aviv football-derby where Hapoel beat Maccabi and just enjoyed ourselves in general with the hostel crowd. However it was a surprisingly expensive city with pretty much the same prices as Stockholm, and we decided we had to move on, catching a bus north to Nazareth.

Cyprus Fail

Once we reached Tasucu we wanted to cross over to Cyprus directly, but we were told that the seas were too rough for the short passage and that all boats were cancelled. We ended up just having to spend two days there, but there was absolutely nothing to do so it felt much longer. The only boat that was able to make the trip was the car-ferry which left at midnight and takes a much longer time than the express-boat but waiting longer wasn't an option for us so we took it. We got to the Turkish side of Cyprus next morning and proceeded to taking a few different buses crossing over to the Greek side and arriving in the port-town of Limassol later that evening. In Limassol we have spent some time doing the cultural stuff, visiting ruins, etc, but a lot of the time has been dedicated to finding a way out of the country. However as we have feared for quite some time it just isn't possible to do it without flying. Ever since Greece we have been looking at our options and found that our timing is just off, had we made this trip a year ago we would have had plenty of options, but following the "Arab Spring" and the aftermath of it, we just can't find a way to do it. We've been in contact with cargo companies, port-authorities, cruise-companies and everything in between, but nobody has a solution for us. It's quite sad that some of the world's oldest sea-routes in the Mediterranean are no longer running all due to political issues and border-disputes, but that's the way the world works and we just have to accept that I guess. So now we have booked our flights to Tel Aviv and if everything goes to plan we should be landing in Israel just before midnight.

Alternative Living

We got to Cappadocia in the heart of Turkey and the small town of Göreme early in the morning and decided to start exploring the area straight away. It really is an amazing albeit very peculiar place, giant stone pillars rise out of the desert landscape and for thousands of years people have hollowed them out to make everything from small pigeon-huts to huge Monasteries. We stayed in a cave-room (rumoured to have accommodated Jimi Hendrix back in the sixties) which was very warm and cozy, and took two days to check this mysterious location with all it's fairy-chimneys and underground cities out. However Cappadocia was freezing cold and despite my efforts to escape the snow it turns out I got to see it before Stockholm did this winter. We decided to seek warmer climates and opted for the small Goa or Thailand-esque hamlet called Olympos on the Mediterranean coast. Once again though Mother Nature trumped us and the 23°C and sun we were lured with had turned into lower teen degrees and rain by the time we arrived. Still it was a great place offering some very interesting sights. First of all you have the ruins of the ancient Roman city Olympos and for a mere 3 Turkish Lira (roughly 12kr or 1£) you are allowed to wander the forests freely among collapsed churches, theatres and roman baths without some guide telling you what not to touch and what not to take photographs of. Also roughly an hours trek away you have the strange phenomena known as Yanartaş, where flames come straight out of the mountain rock-face. For at least 2500 years these flames have kept burning, once large enough to be seen from the ocean they used to be used for sea-navigation today they have shrunk considerably, still they are a baffling and impressive sight.

Our two nights in Olympos were spent in a tree-house and if the cave-room was warm and cozy this was quite the opposite, allthough I guess that is to be expected from a room with no heating and gaping holes in the walls. We then caught three buses heading East, first to Antalya then Silifke and Taşucu where we continued our tradition of odd dwellings for the week, with a few hours rest at bus-station cafes and docks. From Taşucu we hope to catch a ferry to Cyprus, but more about that when I know how it goes.

Turkish Delight

Istanbul is an amazing city and we have just ended up getting stuck here for a while. We started our visit by staying in Sultanahmet which is where most of the tourist-sights like the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia are but after a few days we decided to move over to Beyoğlu which is where most of the bars are. Here we've just been hanging out with a bunch of really nice people and done the occasional trip somewhere like watching a Galatasary footballmatch, going to a Turkish Hamam and crossing the Bosphorus river where Europe and Asia meet. The two sides are quite similar allthough there aren't as many tourists in Asia, they have a bit more slanted eyes, are slightly better at table-tennis and have problems pronouncing the letter R. Turkish people are generally very friendly maybe sometimes a bit much, and I've never seen a country which is so proud of it's flag, wherever you look you see the white star and crescent emblazoned on the red background in all sizes.
Tonight however the group of people has split up and gone their separate ways. Elias and I plan on getting a nightbus to a place further south called Capadocia.

More Than Five Thousand Words...

Here come's a historic post, for the first time in this blog's lifespan I'm going to upload a few pictures.

The former radar-tower outside of Berlin

A view of the Prague Castle and old bridge

A view from Buda to Pest

Two buildings in Belgrade bombed by NATO back in 1999

The famous bridge in Mostar

(For those of you lucky enough to be friends with me on facebook, there will hopefully be more pictures coming up there within a near future)

Greece Lightning

We arrived in Athens early in the morning, and started out by finding a hostel and slept for a couple of hours. We then spent a few days walking around the city realising it is in ruins in more ways than one. Apart from the ancient temples which have crumbled since they were built it seems the population has been rocked by the economic crisis. I think it has the highest amount of homeless people I have ever witnessed and also it was the most expensive city of the trip so far. After seeing enough ruins for a while we decided to move on and found a bus which took us all the way to Turkey.

Busy Days

Montenegro is a country I have heard a lot about as it is the motherland of my employers for the past few years. Also I have them to thank for my very basic Serbian vocabulary and even more basic knowledge of the Cyrillic alphabet which has actually helped a bit during our time in the Balkans. We started our time in the country with a stop in the old town of Kotor, but after walking around for a while we realised there wasn't too much to see and from there started a frenzy of bus-hopping. First to Budva then Bar before finally stopping in Ulcinj for a few hours sleep. Next morning we caught the early morning bus across the Albanian border to Schkodra and then another bus to the capital of Tirana, then a few hours later we got on one final bus and 18 hours later we arrived in Athens where we after almost one month of travelling crossed into a new timezone for the first time. It was a a bit of a shame we didn't stay longer in any place, but it feels like Montenegro is best experienced during the warmer summer months when one can enjoy it's nice beaches, so I shall save it for a separate trip some time in the future.

It Mostar Been Love

The word Mostar translates to "Bridge-Keeper, and in it lies the clue to the small town's claim to fame. Because basically all the town has, is it's famous old bridge (Until recently, when North Korean leader Kim Jong Il's grandson started attending the local high-school.) We stayed in a hostel run by Bata, a Bosnian man who happened to live in Stockholm during the war and therefor speaks Swedish, we walked around the old town, but allthough it was very cute and beautifully located under the mountains there isn't all that much to see, apart from the bridge of course. We did manage to find an abandoned bank-tower, which offered great views of the area but after a day and a half we felt we'd seen it all. In Mostar we bumped into Sho, a Singaporean girl who was in the same van from Belgrade to Sarajevo, and she travelled with us to our next destination, across the Croatian border and down the Adriatic Coast to Dubrovnik.
George Bernard Shaw said of the town: "Those who seek paradise on Earth should come to Dubrovnik" and allthough I don't quite agree with old Georgie it seems a whole lot of people do. We stayed one night inside the medieval city walls, which was very nicely paved in shiny marble, and had picturesque white houses with terracotta-rooftops but found it was full of hordes of pensioners from all over the world and decided to move outside of the walls which turned out to be a great plan. Life in the new-city was much more relaxed and calm. However the next day we decided to get moving and as Sho went north, Elias and I crossed the eastern border to Montenegro.

SaraYeahvo

The minibus picked us up bright and early on thursday morning and after an eight hour drive through Serbian countryside and over Bosnian mountains we reached Sarajevo. It's a very interesting city with a fascinating history, in many ways a meeting point between East and West you can pass a Mosque, Synagogue, Catolic and Orthdox church in a short stroll. It's also the place which triggered the start of the First World War, when Austro-Hungarian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sofia were assassinated here in 1914. In 1984 they hosted the winter olympics and just 8 years later they were tragically under siege by the Serbs during the Balkan War. For almost 4 years the population were held hostage in their own hometown and wherever you walk today building facades littered with bulletholes tell you what a horrific time this must have been.
We stayed at a hostel located right at the top of a very steep hill and thanks to that we now have buns of steel, we did all the touristy stuff walking around the charming old town, visiting the secret tunnel which during the siege was Sarajevo's only link with the outside world, and sampling the local nightlife. After three days here we decided to move on and jumped on a bus taking us to Mostar, but more about that later...

In garnment related news: People who know me will know I possess a jacket which is made of the softest material imaginable, what most of you don't know is that this fantastic piece of clothing broke in several places over the last few weeks and was on it's deathbed, however after the help from a crafty Bosnian seamstress the jacket now lives to tell the tale, and will hopefully see many more countries to come.

DiSerbia

On Monday night Elias and I said our last farewells to Hungary and took another midnight-train, this time going to the Serbian capital Belgrade. Waking up whilst entering the town one thing that struck me was that for a city whose name translates into "The White City" it really isn't very white at all, but I guess "The Greyish Brown City" doesn't have the same ring to it. However my hopes and expectations for Serbia soon changed as my first conversation was the following:

Taxi Driver: "Taxi?"
Me: "No Thanks"
Taxi Driver (whilst holding both thumbs up): 'OK... Manchester United!!!"
(And no I wasn't wearing anything to give away I was a United fan, apart from the smile on my face suggesting I must live a rather satisfying life.) And from that point things have just continued as (rather surprisingly) Belgrade has proved to have the friendliest and most helpful population of the trip so far.

Walking from the train-station to our aptly named Hostel "Chillton" we were quickly reminded how hard the city had been hit during the war in the 90's. Gaping holes in vacated building loom everywhere and it is hard to understand how some houses look as if they were built yesterday whilst it's neighbour stands an empty wreck right next door.
We spent two full days enjoying all Belgrade had to offer; warm weather when the sun was up, wonderful cheap food and cheap beer, but in a few hours if everything goes to plan we will be getting into a van taking us across the Bosnian border. in order to do that we need to catch some shut-eye though so....

Hungary For More

The midnight-train going anywhere took us Budapest's Keleti Station where Emily's friend Miranda was waiting for us. She took us to her place which was also to be our accommodation for the two following nights. Budapest is one of the prettiest cities I've ever been to, maybe not always as pleasing on the eye as say Prague's oldtown but the mix of grand monuments and buildings with houses which are on the verge of falling apart is so charming. We spent two days walking around both Buda and Pest with yet another former school-friend Adina, and her friend Narmeen, stopping off at the occasional cozy courtyard cafe or bar before taking the train to Adina's current hometown of Debrecen.
Debrecen doesn't have as much to offer as the capital on the cultural front, although to be fair we spent most of our daytime in the apartment and nighttime in different bars and clubs and didn't give it a fair chance, but we did have a very good time. After three days we went back to Budapest and stayed in Narmeen's flat. Sadly Emily had to go back to Sweden whilst Adina and her friend Emy will soon have to go back to Debrecen. Elias and I on the other hand aren't in a hurry to leave but will probably move on to more southern latitudes shortly.

Czech Please

The last night in Berlin was late to say the least, and catching the 10:48 train wasn't the easiest of tasks, but thanks to some "Amazing Race" running and pushing we just managed to jump on in time. Roughly 5 hours later we were in The Czech Republic and it's capital Prague. Finding a hostel wasn't going to be a problem, or so we thought... after a few hours of hunting we managed to find one with an available dorm-room and decided it was good enough. Prague is a truly beautiful city, with loads of historic buildings, cheap beer and tasty food. Our first night wasn't very hectic, we tried some of the regional cuisine, drank a local beer and walked around for as long as our legs could carry us before falling asleep. The second day we got an early start and did some more sightseeing before meeting up with Emily for a few hours and then the three of us "took the midnight-train going anywhere..."

To find out where "anywhere" is, tune in for the next episode...

Don't Mention The...

I arrived on schedule in Berlin at 5 AM on Wednesday morning and proceded to taking the train to my dear friend and former classmate Joanna's appartment in Neukölln. I stayed here with Emily, another dear friend and studybuddy from the past for two days, doing the touristy stuff, which mostly consists of looking at a wall by day followed by drinking German beer by night, before Elias arrived late Thursday evening. The two of us then moved across town to Charlottenburg where we were wonderfully accepted at a friend called Jenny's place. From here we continued on the same travel itenirary of touristing followed by beering, visiting amongst other sites an interesting radar-tower used by the Americans during the Cold War. Berlin was full of surprises, for one everybody speaks German, something I thought was taken care of some 66 years ago. The weather was rather grey most of the time as was a lot of the city to be honest, but it was all brought to life thanks to the friendly and colourful people who inhabit it. I leave you with that cheesy line, and can tell you all that Elias and I somehow managed to catch an early (10:48) train this morning and are currently in Prague, but more about that in the next installment.

On The Road Again

So last trip had a bit of an unexpected and sudden ending as did the life of this blog. To recap the 19 months that have passed since the last post: I flew home from Brasil about a month after the incident, had a few more surgeries in Sweden, got back to work and started planning my next trip. As I am now about to embark on this trip I thought it was a good time to wake some life into the blog as well. The outline and general plan for the trip is for my friend Elias and I to travel from Stockholm, Sweden, down to Cape Town, South Africa, without using the art of flight. The timeframe is not set but reaching South Africa in about 6 months seems like quite a realistic goal. The route is pretty much decided, allthough there could be a few changes along the way, however the plan is to travel through Eastern Europe and then down through Eastern Africa, but more about that when it actually happens.

In less than an hour I get on the vehicle which will start my trip, a bus taking me down to the German capital Berlin over 18 hours, where I have friends waiting and then hopefully Elias will catch up with us 24 hours later.
I have to run now, but I'll write more when I next see a computer...

Hospital Daze

So time doesn't exactly fly in a hospital like this, but I have been luxury equipped by Clara's and Johan's employers with a free wifi laptop, which has been very helpful. Also the occasional showings of Premier League football on the otherwise lame Brazilian TV-channels have been a blessing. In the beginning life wasn't easy, but quite soon I managed to regain my speech and my abilty to swallow making things a bit more pleasant. After about 5 days in the hospital bed, eating the same tasteless soup most days, accompanied by different juices I eventually got to my scheduled leftjaw surgery by monday lunchtime. I'll give you a Gordon Ramsey style summary to make things comprehensive:

3 1/2 hours surgery, roughly 20 stitches, 30 miniature titanium screws, 4 metall-plates, one removed piece of lead bullet, one left in for flavour, 3 1/2 hours rest. Reconstructive Jaw-Surgery: Done!

Simple as that really, however I had missunderstood a bit as I apparantly had two large bulletpieces left, one in each lower-jaw, they only removed the one which was located in the fractured left, whilst the other will do no harm where it is. What happens next is still not quite clear, I should hopefully be able to leave the hospital quite soon and then catch some rehab in a tranquil location, before my eardrum has healed and I will be allowed to get on a plane back home to freezing cold Sweden. My biggest dilemma now is what to do with my removed piece of lead, bear in mind it's not quite big enough for a coffee-table, however I'm open to all artistic and creative suggestions.

Well I'm a lucky man!!!

This is probably the hardest post I have ever written as the reality of the whole event hasn't really sunk in. Yesterday night I was celebrating (what I thought would be) my last night in Fortaleza with Clara and Johan, as we were going home around 2 AM, I was carrying Claras handbag when I felt somebody tug at it, before I had realised what was happening I tugged back and then I'm not quite sure what happened, the deafening bang went off right beside my leftear but I never saw the pistol? There was no real pain but as I ran from the loud explosion I realised the flood of blood pouring out from my mouth, I dropped the bag (and my brandnew brazilian flipflops...) sat down on a curb, caking myself in blood and trying to understand what had just happened without using to much energy. Luckily the bullet had taken a detour south-east leaving me with a slightly deaf left ear (which they say will be fine) a few exit wounds on both cheeks and a jawline like the elephant-man, but by the time the ambulance got to me I had lost extremly much blood. It took me quite a while to realise what a cartoon freak I had turned into but heads turned quite a bit as the bloody mess arrived at the first public hospital. Its unbelievable to think how lucky I was, shot in the head from pointblank range I was starting to wonder how much longer I could possibly live, but by the time I set my mind to surviving another one of the grimreapers attempts at me, there was no doubt in my mind I was going to get through those vital early stages. The biggest problem has been the fact that I constantly have to spit out a sticky bloody goo and that my throat hurts too much to talk, eat or drink. We spent roughly 9 hours in the public hospital when Clara and Johan's employers (who have been absoutly amazing as have Clara and Johan helping me through this) showed up and moved me to a fancy private hospital which is where I am now. They want to keep me here for 5 days to let the swelling go down, before they decide wether or not put me in surgery to check on some fractures and get part of the bullet out of my jaw. That's about all information I can give you now, but I will keep you all updated as I count my lucky stars!

Viva Brasil

Catching the early flight from Caracas wasn't a problem, however the direction of it was a bit annoying. Instead of just flying east to the pretty much paralell town of Fortaleza, I had to fly all the way south to São Paolo, change planes and then fly north again, making the "short" trip take roughly 16 hours. When I arrived in Fortaleza on the Brazilian north coast, just before midnight, I gave my friend Clara a call, after a few attempts I got through and found she was out and about, but we managed to meet up and she showed me to her downtown house which she shares with her friend Johan. The two of them are living here doing some kind of communal project which involves film, I haven't really understood what they do but I'm sure whatever they do is great. I've been living here with them for a week now also taking a three day break in the calm beach village Paracuru where we were able to stay in a friend of Johan's father's massive mansion. While in Fortaleza I've done some sightseeing by day (allthough there really isn't much on offer) and a whole lot of drinking and "Pre-Carnavaling" by night. It feels very good to be in a country which understands the importance of football, in one day I managed to watch my first United game since leaving Sweden as we humiliated the Arsenal and then directly after I went to the Estadio Castelão too see the pretty drab derby encounter (allthought the crowd atmosphere was entertaining) between the two local teams Ceara and Fortaleza which ended 0-0. I'm not sure how long I will stay here, but I'm expected to take part in football match tomorrow against the Fortaleza police-force, which apparantly tends to be rather brutal, before I head down the coast towards new destinations.

Go Chasing Waterfalls!

We managed to get on the nightbus to Valencia and after a pretty smooth swap there we arrived in Ciudad Bolivar 24 hours after starting our trip from Mérida. Ciudad Bolivar is named after "El Libertador" Simón Bolivar, a Caracas born man and the founding father of Venezuela who gave Gran Colombia (Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia and Venezuela) it´s independence in the beginning of the 19th century. Apart from this city, you see his name everywhere in the Bolivarian Republic of Venzuela maybe most noticeably the currency of Bolivars and the main square of every town called Plaza Bolivar. We spent two days in Ciudad Bolivar the first day spent just walking around town looking at the markets and on the second day we took a trip to the mighty Angel Falls. The name of the world's highest waterfall doesn't have anything to do with messengers of God but refers to the American man who "found" it, Jimmie Angel who in 1933 flew over it for the first time and whilst looking for it again in 1937 crashlanded at the top. The fact that an American claims the name to Venezuelas top tourist attraction is not very popular with Señor Chavez who is doing his best to get it renamed to Kerepakupai merú, which means "waterfall of the deepest place", in the local Pemon language. We took off from Ciudad Bolivar in a tiny six-seater Cessna, four Swedes and our 200 kilogram pilot Marco. The (at points stomach-churning) flight over the beautiful dense jungle landscape and table mountains lasted for about an hour until we got to the 979 meter high waterfall which despite it being dry-season was truly sublime, words just don't do it justice (and as I haven't got a camera I guess you'll just have to go see it for yourselves.) After flying by it a few times we landed at the village airstrip in Canima where we could swim in the white sanded Canaima lagoon and get closer to some smaller waterfalls which were once again mindblowing and I just can't imagine what the wetseason is like. As this season doesn't really offer so much to do for a longer time we flew back to Ciudad Bolivar the same day and had a busticket booked to take us to the harbourtown Puerto La Cruz. However when we arrived at the busterminal we found out that our bus had been cancelled, not wanting to lose too much time, we opted to make the four hour drive by taxi instead. Puerto La Cruz doesn't really have a lot to offer except for it's proximity to the nearby beaches and the very popular Isla Margarita. We decided the best choice was to stick to mainland and travelled early in the morning to a secluded and quiet beachtown called Playa Colorada. I could only stay two nights until I had to bid my adieus to my travelpartners Joanna, Johan and Tobias who have been great company for the past fortnight. It took me almost 7 hours but as I write I am back in Caracas hoping that my early flight to Brazil tomorrow morning won't cause as much of a problem as the first flights of this decade seemed to...

Ande-Man

It's been a while since my last post but I'll start off with a Bang! which was the sound (well not really, but it's the only way I know in written form without having to pay royalty money to the creators of Batman) that woke me and the rest of the passengers on the Merida nightbus at 1 AM. This is one of the last noises I want to hear followed by the bus swerving out of control whilst driving amongst some of the worlds highest mountains. The bus came to a halt and luckily we hadn't reached the curvy mountain passages yet, but we were stuck on the side of the highway with an exploded front tyre. Nobody came to harm and as soon as the tyre was switched we were off again. Seven hours later (Eleven hours on the bus total) I was in the Andean town of Mérida. The actual city itself is pleasant allthough nothing special, but as you know it's all about location, location, location. Merida is beautifully nestled in the valley with Venezuelas highest mountains surrounding it on all sides, this leaves it with a very comfortable climate and temperature all year round. The city's main claim to faim is it's Teleferico (cable-car) which is the world's longest travelling and highest climbing. Unfortunately I found out (which my brand-new guidebook hadn't) that it has been closed due to maintenance for the past three years. At my posada in town (which has the highest backpacker and gringo population I've encountered on this trip so far) I met fellow Swedes: Joanna, Johan and Tobias. After a hard night's drinking with them we decided a trip to the immense plains, which take up nearly a third of the country, called Los Llanos was a good idea. The winding trip through the almost 4000 meter high moutains was apparantly not a good idea for me, as I was throwing up throughout. By the time we were on a two hour trek through the valleys I was so dehydrated I actually passed out. Finally after 1½ days travel we reached the savannah landscape along with some Swiss, Koreans, Germans and a Brit. We stayed in Los Llanos for two days, horseback-riding (which was surprisingly fun) going on night- and boat-safaris and just generally looking at the wildlife, mostly an abundance of different birds but also animals like; caymans, freshwater dolphins, capybarra and the most important of all Anacondas. On the fourth day we took the long and winding roads back to Merida and got some rest before next days activity "canyoning." Basically you pay a lot of money to go on a death-defying trek in the moutain's rainforest canyons, absailing through high waterfalls, jumping into narrow gaps of water and sliding down natural water-slides. By the time we were done I was freezing cold, pumped full of adrenaline and one camera poorer. Yeah that's right it took me 17 days to lose my camera on this trip as the currents of the river proved a more potent threat than the Caracas gun-man. Well, well, shit happens and now me and the Swedes are taking a nightbus to Valencia where, fingers crossed, we can quickly travel to Ciudad Bolivar as my schedule is getting rather tight.

Off The Beach

Of course as soon as I had decided to get away from the beachtown the clouds dispersed and left me with two very warm busrides totalling 5 hours and taking me to the Unesco World Heritage Site and Venezuelas first capital city; Coro. Once again every accomodation in town was full and by the time I had walked around and found a posada I had basically seen everything this small colonial town had to offer. However I walked around, saw the contemporary local art museum and managed to catch a very short part of the sunday morning mass in Venezuela's oldest cathederal (built between 1583 and 1634) Also I saw the unrealisic amount of shoe-shops in such a small town, I'm not sure of the exact number but roughly... a shitload! So after less than 24 hours in this very pretty, cobblestoned and tranquil town I felt I had seen most of it plus I didn't need new shoes, so I moved on to my next point, Maracaibo. Maracaibo is a city almost by the Columbian border in the part of the country which gave Venezuela it's name. When Italian explorer Amerigo Vespuci came here in 1502 and saw the Arawak houses built on wooden stilts in the water it reminded him of a little Venice or.. Venezuela. At first glimpse Venezuelas second largest city situated between the banks of the Venezuelan gulf and Lago De Maracaibo (where the majority of the countries oil is found) looks like quite a grey, dismal, concrete nightmare but looking closer I found it was in fact a grey, dismal, concrete nightmare with some very charming and beautiful hidden colonial gems. I say hidden when in fact they are quite the opposite as grand European style tree-lined avenues with magnificent marble and gold fountains at the center aren't exacctly good camoufalge in a concrete jungle. Here I managed to catch the end of the sunday evening mass (two sunday masses in one day, that should get me through the pearly gates) at the Basilica and got caught up in a cult-like wave of touching eachother and giving cheek kisses. So I snuck out and went back to the hotel where I met Trenton, a Buyer/Seller from Guyana. Today I have spent all day following him around learning the art of trading goods it doesn't seem like a half bad proffesion and who knows this may be my call in life, but that will have to wait a while. My current life plan is to catch an overnight bus which should get me up into the Andes and the town of Merida by tomorrow morning some time.

Vamos A La Playa

The trip from Caracas to Choroni took three stages: first a short metro ride, followed by 90 minutes on bus to Maracay and then completed with a thrilling two and a half hour roller coaster of a drive though the beautiful scenery and high jungle mountains of "Parque Nacional Henri Pittier" which seperate Caracas from the Caribbean Sea. The last part of the trip was done at high speed in an old pimped up American schoolbus with latin rhythms booming out of the sound system. When I reached Choroni and the fishermen's part of town "Puerto Colombia" I quickly learned the meaning of "Todo Ocupado" as every hostel or posada (guesthouse) had this sign up due to it still being Christmas holidays here. Wandering around the picturesque and colourful town I saw the two first blonde guys I'd seen since leaving Sweden, I went up to them on a hunch and of course they were Swedish. They were brothers Eric and Gustaf, here on holiday with their parents and Eric's girlfriend Jeanette, who like Eric studies at Caracas University. I spoke to the friendly owner at their posada called Monita, and managed to get a bed in her childhood room/storage unit. I spent two nights and one day with the family from the south of Sweden visiting a nearby beach and the tiny idyllic town of Chuao which produces some of the world's finest cocoa. During the evenings we had great food and drinks. It was nice to meet people and be able to have my first real conversations of... this decade basically. I spent one day alone in Choroni and decided to check the crowded but pretty Playa Grande out before taking the crazy ride across the mountains again, via Maracay and Valencia to reach Chichiriviche after 8 hours. Chichiriviche is another coastal-town, this one located in the Parque Nacional de Morrocoy, which is famous for its tropical paradise cayos (keys) I visited Cayo Varadero, which was also crowded, but if you just walked a few minutes in either direction you had miles of white sand beach, palmtrees and crystal clear turquoise water all to yourself. Unfortunately recycling doesn't seem to be very high up on Señor Chavez's agenda, as most beaches I've seen so far have been cluttered with litter. As my second day in Chichiriviche was cloudy I decided not to visit any more cayos but instead move on towards new destinations, where that will be only time can tell... ok it's going to be a town called Coro.

Welcome to The Jungle

So the inevitable has happened, admittedly a little bit quicker than I had expected, but still it happened. Shortly after writing my last post I walked up what was apparantly a bad street. A man approached me, shook my hand, dragged me closer to him and then tought me my new spanish word of the day: "Pistola," whilst lifting his t-shirt up revealing the but of a hand-gud poking out from the top of his boxer-shorts. He tried to grab my bag, but when I showed him the contents (Two books and a bottle of water) he changed his mind. his attention now shifted to a mobile-phone and I told him I didn´t have one but decided to show him my wallet before he would start searching me and find my secret cash-stash or worse my camera. He grabbed the wad of money (mostly small bills making it feel like more than it was) gave me the evil eye and walked off. This was at half past three, broad daylight, less than 20 hours into my trip (12 hours were spent sleeping) perhaps proving to me that the facts, statistics and stories I've been told about Venezuela aren't that exaggerated. Otherwise the little I saw of Caracas seemed allright, it must be one of the most integrated communities I have ever seen, blacks, whites and natives mixing without any problems as far as I can see, just agreeing on one thing to dislike the "gringo." I´ve seen enough Western films to recognise the "We-don't-take-kindly-to-your-type" look I get from many people often accompanied by jeers of "¡Ey Gringo!" They are definitely not all like this though as I have also met many extremly friendly and helpful people here. One thing that strikes you when you come to Caracas is their love for baseball and from what I've understood there are two main teams "The Leones" and "Magallanes" every man seems to wear at least one piece of clothing showing off the love for one of these teams. Another thing that can't escape the eye is the size of women's breasts and how they like to flaunt them, either plastic surgery is very cheap here or this is one blessed population. Anywhoo I've left Caracas now and reached the small coastal town of Coroni, but that will have to wait until the next chapter of this magical tale.

Crackass

So after killing 12 hours at Madrid's wonderful airport and then a further 10 hours on the aeroplane I have now arrived in the capital of Hugo Chavez's Venezuelan empire, Caracas. Getting into the country went all too well seeing as I was prepared for hell having been told by several books, people and embassies that the way into Venezuela could be a treterous one... it was not. The passport control here was one of the most lax I've ever seen, it's harder to get onto the Stockholm subway without a ticket than into this country without proper documents. So anyway at the airport the struggle starts, taxi-touts pulling you one way police officers the other, everybody wanting your green Benjamin Franklin dollars. They have great value to the population here as their own currency fluctuates so much and therefor has no real value. The rate offered by the banks is 2 Bolivar Fuertes for 1 US$, but after I haggled a bit with one of the touts I managed to get 5 Bolivars per US dollar. Then I opted not to take the expensive taxi into town but found two wonderful women who took me under their wings to guide me safely through the bustrip into the capital. As soon as I found a cheap hostel room I took it, jumped in the shower and then crashed straight into bed, getting some much needed sleep after the past few days schedule. This morning I awoke early to see what my neighbourhood of Sabana Grande had to offer, turns out not very much seeing as it was Sunday morning, but I walked around for a bit grabbing some quick bites where I could find them and now found an open Internet café. The plan for the upcoming weeks is not quite decided, I want to get into beach-mode pretty soon and also want to see the worlds highest waterfall which is located in this country, but more about that when it actually happens.

Epic start to the new decade!

Wow where to start? Well the decaded really started with a bang. Flying out on newyears-day may have been one step more stupid than last years decision to fly on the eve of the new year. So to cut a long story short... after a boozy last night, I managed to oversleep and miss my flight! However I decided to make my way to the airport and somehow get to Madrid where my connecting flight leaves for Caracas on the 2nd. I just managed to get on a plane to Prague and after an hour there catch a flight to Madrid, arriving at midnight. However as I missed my original flight I was classed as a "No-Show" and they cancelled my connection. However the gamble payed off, as I, after some sweet talk managed to get back on board. So that´s where I am no, hoping to be able to stay awake for this flight which leaves at 12 o clock. The lengths I go to to make this blog interesting! Haven´t even left Europe yet the adventure has begun!!!

Back in the Swedenland

The flights home turned out to be boringly unproblematic and I have now been home in Stockholm safe and sound for the past few days. I managed to get a week and half more off work, which I will use to get back into the Swedish way of life. I've tried getting as much done as possible since getting back, drinking loads of water straight from the tap, eating decent burgers, pizza, chips and kebabs... you know Swedish food. Otherwise things are pretty much the same as when I left Stockholm allthough the sun has had his hat on quite a bit, which is nice of him. I can tell you all that I successfully managed to get a grand total of zero checks off the checklist which I made at the beginning of the trip. Also for all of you modern cats out there who have a facebook account, you will notice I have uploaded pictures from the end of my trip (Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia and Bangkok) taken with my new camera which I bought in Bangkok, but didn’t want mention on here due to high jinxing-factor. And I think that’s about all for this time… Thank you all for reading and I look forward to seeing you all on here for my next trip, which looks certain to be Africa in less than a years time if all goes to plan. Take Care!

ONE last night in Bangkok

Sihanoukville would have been the perfect ending to a perfect trip, had it not been for my usual naivety which always seems to hit me towards the end of my trips. The brutal trio of sand, strong breeze and sun (or Earth, Wind and Fire if you wish) burnt my face pretty badly, leaving my face in blisters and peeling tan. Apart from this mishap Sihanoukville was brilliant with good weather and a great nightlife. I stayed by the beach for four nights before heading in a western direction, where i decided to jump off in the small town of Koh Kong close to the Thai border. Here I got Suka, a local motorcycle driver to drive me around to all the surrounding natural beauties including some impressive waterfalls, beaches and big mangrove swamps. The morning after Suka's brother took me to the border which I crossed by foot, then found a white van man who drove me to a town called Trat where I caught a bus to Bangkok. Getting off the bus I got stopped by police who searched through my entire luggage for drugs (they didn't find my massive supply of heroine) and then got stuck for an hour on motorbike in the horrendous Bangkok-traffic. After this my bum was rather sore (no the police didn't harm me) but I met up Josh again and also Isabelle and Marcus who missed their flight a few days ago (I think to be able to meet me.) We spent one night in Bangkok making the world our oyster for the last time in quite some while I suspect. Now I've been walking around the Khao San Road area with the boys who are curing their hangovers, until Josh and I have to catch our flight at half past eight tonight. So with any luck I should be back home in Stockholm by sunday morning (I can't tell you what time as this would create a mass hysteria of mobs of waiting fans at the airport) but I can tell you that Sunday night will be a great night to be out and about in the capital of Scandinavia.

Cambodyeah

Crossing the Vietnam border in this direction was completely hassle-free, you literally feel the change of people's attitudes as you cross, seven hours by bus from Saigon took me to Phnom Penh. The weather was gorgeous for the entire busride but as the doors opened so did the skies. So there I stood, on the "wrong" side of town in a monsoon/typhoon/windy rainy storm, trying to get a ride to the "right" side. When the thunder and lightning persisted a tuktuk driver drove me through the flooded roads lined with huge fallen trees and bent roadsigns. During my previous stay in Phnom Penh I stayed lake-side so I decided to vary my trips and chose the other tourist option of river-side (allthough in these conditions the whole of Phnom Penh seemed to be riverside.) I did my usual hectic sightseeing, walking around markets checking genocide-museums and visited a barbershop (I say barbershop, in truth it was just a random man in the street who happened to own the combination of a chair, a mirror and a hair clipper.) He cut my hair very short, but at the price of less than a dollar I can't really complain. Out of my two hectic stays in this capital city I must say I preferred staying lakeside, but Phnom Penh on both occasions was great. Now however I have reached a new town after almost 5 hours on a bus showing a Cambodian singing stand-up routine where both the male and female character sounded like Janice from "Friends," it did have the entire bus in fits of laughter though, kids standing on their seats, hard of hearing grandmothers having the jokes retold, so they must be doing something right. The town I've reached now, on my speed-dating tour of South-East Asia, is the beachside town of Sihanoukville, where (fingers crossed) there wont be any monsoon or Blackpool brothers, so I that I can return to Sweden with a somewhat respectable tan.

Saigon With The Wind

Nha Trang was supposed to be a few relaxed days on the beach, but then along came my temporary room-mate Aaron and his brother Dean, both from Blackpool, and introduced me to Northern English drinking-sessions (or just a "Sesh" for short.) A few days on the beach, quickly turned into six days on the bottle. I managed to make it to the beach once in these six days despite the weather being wonderful, the rest of the time was spent booze-cruising or just simply the same without the cruise, not that I'm complaining as we had a top, mad, sound crack of a time. However the prolonged "seshing " meant that I had to skip Mui Ne with its beaches and sand dunes which are supposed to be stunning. Instead I caught a 12 hour bus straight to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) which is an absolutely crazy city, it doesn't have anywhere near the same beauty as for example Hoi An or the charm of Hanoi, yet somehow it has something very appealing. During my 24 hours here so far I've tried to cram in as much as possible, visiting war-museums and historic places, but mostly just soaking up the chaotic atmosphere. The amount of two-wheeled motorised vehicles in Saigon is indescribable, it has a human population of about 5.5 million and a motorcycle population of about 3.5 million, thus crowding every street crossing and alleyway with hundreds of bikes. Strangely though it is never difficult to get through the traffic as a pedestrian, you just step out onto the road, walk normally and as if by magic (or religion, your choice) the sea of "motobikes" just parts around you, it's so easy it could probably be done blindfolded, but as my trip is nearing it's end without major incidents I won't risk it. I've had a great time in Nam, even though due to dishonest people, like a midget in a urinal, you constantly have to stay on your toes (believe it or not though I have met some friendly souls in Saigon) but my permitted stay runs out tomorrow, so I've decided to catch a bus from here to the Cambodian capital of Phnom Penh, and from there we'll see what happens...

Stressing Down The Coast Of Vietnam

I guess the title pretty much gives this latest installment of the blog away. Since writing last I've crossed the 17th parallel and gone through the Demilitarised Zone from the Vietnam (or as they refer to it here, American) war and visited UNESCO sights four and five since leaving India, in the form of the two historic towns Hue and Hoi An. Both places were interesting, however Hoi An is one of the prettiest towns I've ever seen (albeit commercial.) Set on the banks of the small river Thu Bon is the ancient port known by western traders back in the days as Faifo. I was lucky to arrive here on the 14th day of the lunar month, which only happens to be "Hoi An Legendary Night" filling the streets with people, candles and small bonfires. Coloured rice-lanterns illuminate the narrow alleyways full of tailors (there are more than 200 tailor shops in this town with a population of 70 000) craftsmen and artists selling everything from traditional rice-hats and cheap tailor made suits to giant wooden Buddha statues (luckily my bag is too full to buy any of their souvenir crap.) However both towns got only 24 hours each of my attention as I must rush to see everything, I have now returned to Beach-Life and hope to spend a few days on the beaches of Nha Trang, weather lately has been quite miserable but hopefully it will take a turn for the better soon.

'Namazeing

(Note the title is a play on not only two but three words!) After the very hectic travelling the past few days, I felt I deserved some relaxation, so I tagged along with the four Brits I met at the Laos/Vietnam border and their two friends Vickie and Louis to the UNESCO sight (third in three weeks) of Halong Bay. The place is absolutly amazing with an archipelago consisting of more than 3000 vertical limestone islands, which mysteriously rise up from the turquoise Gulf of Tonkin, unfortunatly the bay is clogged up with about as many touristboats as there are islands. We chugged around the bay during the day stopping off at caves (which were jam-packed with tourists and tackily lit with coloured halogen lights.) Then when the sun started to go down, many of the boats went back to the mainland giving the bay back it's natural beauty. We spent the evening Kayaking into the sunset then relaxed on the boat all night drinking beer and playing cards before catching some much needed sleep on the boat. The morning after we headed back cruising between the rocky isles and heavy fog (adding even more mystique to the location) before catching a bus back to Hanoi. In Hanoi I've mostly just wandered around and I really love the town, allthough Vietnamese people are without a doubt the rudest and unfriendliest people I've ever encountered (however I haven't been to Russia yet.) Usually I have quite a good sense of direction but in Hanoi it's just impossible to walk anywhere without getting lost. I think it's the combination of thousands of small streets which change name and curve without logic, the unhelpful locals who don't speak very much English and the fact that my Vietnamese isn't quite what it used to be which make this maze of a city so difficult to navigate and every stroll an adventure, but this may be what I like so much about Hanoi the sense of satisfaction and relief when you actually get through the chaos to where you want. Now though I have to hurry on south through the country to have time to see as much as possible, my nightbus takes me on a 14 hour trip to Hue tonight where I'll see what else "Nam" has to offer.

Hanoiing

It's too difficult to summarise the past few days, but I'll give it a shot. Where to start? The hours since my last post have been very hectic, I can tell you all I did cross the border on my second try allthough it wasn't the smoothest of transitions. On the Laos-side of the border I met four Brits (Alex, Jack, Jamie and George) so together with the two people I met the day before there were 7 of us using this complicated border. We managed to get a bus which was supposed to take us to Hanoi, but we realised these guys were very dodgy (they all had leatherjackets for one) and decided to jump ship earlier on in Thanh Hoa, and not pay what we had agreed. This of course caused havoc in the small town, and we were stalked by probably the entire population, until we managed to shake them off and find refuge at the trainstation. The train didn't leave until almost midnight and reached Hanoi about four hours later, here me and the Brits decided checking in to a hotel was not needed and decided to find a bar or someplace to sit instead until we could get a trip to the nearby Halong Bay. And that is pretty much where I am now, sitting at an internet place in Hanoi, waiting to see what happens today. Whatever happens later on in my life, I doubt I will live to see much more epic and hectic birthdays. Allright, now I've got five minutes to pack my bag before we apparantly leave for Halong Bay...

April Fool!

So first things first: Luang Prabang turned out to be a really nice town, very clean, friendly people allthough the whole place felt a bit artificial where every shop, hotel and restaurant had signs made by the same company and nothing really seemed genuine. The weather didn’t treat us too well but we did manage to get one nice day out by some wonderful waterfalls. After our time in the UNESCO listed town, Josh and I had different plans for our trip so we decided to both go at it alone for a while, Josh traveling to southern Laos whilst I would travel north to eventually reach Vietnam. The solo travel on my part started at 07.30 AM with a 16 hour ride in a minibus. This turned out to become the bumpiest ride I’ve ever experienced, and the bumps made everything from sleeping to reading and even drinking water impossible. Also the loud South-East Asian pop music and loud South-East Asian women throwing up didn’t make any of this easier. The minibus had seats for 11 but at one point we were 19 human-beings, 1 pig and several chickens crammed onto the vehicle (luckily the non human beings traveled on the roof after some discussion.) After 16 sleepless hours we reached Sam Neua and I decided to check into a guesthouse to catch 4 hours sleep before heading back to the bus station to catch a sawngthaew (glorified pickup-truck) for three and a half hours to get to the Vietnam border, this ride was free of live-stock but I’m pretty sure the stuff being transported in plastic sacks was alive at one point but had now been dead for at least a week. When I got there I would find out whether or not my gamble had worked out, the previous 28 hour journey could all be in vain as I had not yet acquired a visa, but I had heard rumours that Scandinavian citizens do not need visas to enter Vietnam. Luckily this was rumour turned out to be true… however I did not have a ticket out of Vietnam so I was denied access to the country, despite desperate attempts to convince bordercontrol. My only choice now was to head back, not the whole 28 hours but back to Sam Neua. At the border I met fellow Swede Anders and the Danish Josefine who both had the same problem, so we have now arrived at an internetplace and are scheming on an escaperoute out of Laos...