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...

You Tube?

Josh and I decided that one night in Vientiane was enough, there was nothing wrong with the town itself, however we feel time is running out and there wasn't really that much more to see. So we took a 5 hour local bus trip off the beaten track, through stunning landscapes and decided to get off in the rural, isolated village of Vang Vieng. Vang Vieng is settled beautifully on the shores of the Nam Sang river with steep limestone mountains shielding it from all sides. I'm not sure if the villagers have seen white people before, but I'm pretty sure not many westerners have made it here before us. Note For all you old farts and/or readers not familiar with the South-East Asian travel route, everything written above is complete bull-shit (sorry Michael couldn't find the asterisk on this keyboard.) Vang Vieng happens to be one of the most popular stops for backpackers and this track is more beaten than Rihanna after a drunken night out with Chris Brown (even after 3 months in Asia, I keep up with the gossip.) "So what does this village have to offer?" I hear you ask. Well their concept is pretty much: Inner-tube of a tractor's tyre + river + copious amounts of alcohol and drugs = the biggest tourist attraction since bread came sliced! (Which is sad because the bread slicing tourism industry in Indochina has plummeted since the introduction of the tube.) We tried the infamous tubing the other day to see what all the hubub was about, and to be honest it was actually rather pleasant. You get dropped off a few kilometers up the river, then you just sit in the tube, slowly drifting downstream, getting pulled into bars, jumping from rope-swings and just relaxing, then 7 hours and about 20 bars later, you arrive back at the same place as you started, one word for you my friends: Genius! If your cup of tea involves drugs I'm pretty sure you can get that here as well, which becomes quite obvious at night, when all the young "tubed out" backpackers lie on mattresses in the T.V-Bars, laughing at endless reruns of "Friends" whilst sipping on dubious milkshakes. As I own the complete DVD box-set of "Friends" it felt rather pointless to stay very long, so after two nights a 6 hour journey by bus northward, once again through incredible mountainous scenery, took us to the Unesco Heritage listed site of Luang Prabang. We haven't been here very long, but what I've seen so far, I like and next time I write I hope to use many superlatives.

Laosy

So after two weeks in Thailand we finally managed to get our bums on a bus up north to the bordering country of Laos. The busride took us roughly 14 hours but after our trips in India this felt like a piece of cake. We arrived this morning in the capital of Laos, Vientiane, which seems to be a nice quiet town, allthough it's quite early and we haven't had time to look around too much. It's funny though that you notice directly when you arrive in a former french colony as all the streetnames begin with "Rue" and you get croissants, baguettes and "La Vache Qui Rit" cheese shoved in your face before you have time to say "fromage." We found a guesthouse just recently, very cheap and conveniently located between "The Scandinavian Bakery" and "The Swedish Pizza and Baking House." I can also confirm that our trip home has been postponed and we will now arrive early morning in Stockholm on the 25th of April, so you have plenty of time to organise the homecoming celebrations at Arlanda Airport. Finally I'd like to end on a sad note... I know how you have all taken to one (or rather two) of the major characters in this blog, my black Havaiana flip-flops, but I can sadly say that despite the work of brave Anthony in Fort Cochin, they did not survive the entire trip. Last week the stitching snapped and I felt it was time to say goodbye so I bought an identical pair and hopefully they will last me for many journeys to come. Rest in Peace!

Wasting Time?

Like Otis Redding sang, wasting time doesn't have to be a bad thing but at the moment it is exactly what we're doing. We've been back and forth to Bangkok now a few times, taking a daytrip to the old capital of Thailand, Ayutthaya,(I understand why they changed the capital, Bangkok is so much more modern with skyscrapers everywhere and Skytrains, whilst Ayutthaya is basically a pile of ruined temples...) after that we took a midweek break to the nearby island of Koh Samet. Our plan was to improve our tans but as it rained most of the time we ended up consuming alcohol throughout the four day stay. Apart from the weather Koh Samet was really nice allthough the spoken language seemed to be mostly Swedish and we also managed to eat way too much Swedish food. Whilst in Bangkok we've spent quite alot of Baht and not really seen much apart from two terrible football games, which have got me thinking maybe I have to go back to India to get United back on the right track... Within a near future though I think we will have crossed the border in the north, hopefully reaching Laos, but we'll see how that goes... Until then...

Title Tributed to Two Sisters!

So two months just flew right by, and our tour of India is now officially over. India was amazing and I know that I have to go back at some time in my life to finish up what I couldn't manage this time around. The Indian heat was unbelievable, making me reach levels of perspiration I thought only possible at double my age and four times my weight. My addiction to "snus" has been replaced by an addiction to "Chaini Khaini" which is the Indian equivalent to snus in smaller sachets but I guess they pack a much more lethal punch, as they can sometimes leave me with blistering gums, I Like! The smells in India are a constant factor, mostly ranging between shit and shit which has been lit on fire, but it's not as bad as it sounds and I think I will actually miss them. Pondecherry was a really nice town but more surprisingly so was Calcutta. The 34 hour trip from south to north (bus and train) didn't cause much trouble as I slept through much of it. However we did get one pleasant surprise as Miriam and Isabelle managed to get tickets on the same train as us and thus our farewell was once again postponed. By coincidence we arrived in Calcutta on the second and final day of the holy festival "Holi." I don't really know what significance the festival has but it does give the locals an excuse to get hammered and cover eachother with different coulored paints, we all managed to turn the coulor pink for the day (and partly the day after as it prooved quite difficult to get the paint out of your skin and hair.) We strolled around Calcutta for two days, seeing some touristy bits like the Victoria Memorial and Mother Teresas so called motherhouse and even managed to get the first real rain in over two months when the skies opened producing a surreal lightning show. But as it goes all good things must come to an end, and on Thursday night we eventually said our goodbyes to the two fantastic sisters who have accompanied us since Palolem, without whom I can't imagine how the trip would have gone but I can guarantee you it wouldn't have gone down this well. So now it's just the two of us, back on Khao San Road in Bangkok, which is still as chaotic, but it's nice to know that some things don't change. Marcus and Isabelle (devoted readers may remember these characters from my last epic travels in Siam, female character not to be confused with the younger sister whom I just met recently in India) are on their way north from Phuket to Bangkok as we speak, and it will be nice to meet familliar faces which we haven't seen since 2008.

Rockbottom

The title this time is not as depressing as it might sound, just a way for me to tell you all that after spending two weeks in Varkala we have now reached the southern most tip of India and are now heading north again. The town on the south cape is called Kunyakumari (or Cape Comorin) and can't boast with many things except for being the most southern point in India. 400 metres off the coast we visited the Indian equivalent of "The Statue Of Liberty." Located on a small island is a 40.5 metre (or 133 foot, you can google the reason why if you're interested as I can't be bothered telling you the dull story) tall statue of one of Indias most famous poets called... beats me... and it dates back all the way to the year 2000!!! Its amazing to think that I was only 14 years old when it was erected, the world can be mindboggling and really makes you feel small some times doesn't it! In Kunyakumari we also visited India's first (and as we speak only) wax-museum. It doesn't quite reach the heights of Madame Tussauds but can boast with it's fascinating fifteen or so skillfully sculpted dolls of Indian celebrities like Mahatma Ghandi (who has to the easiest historical character, bar Wallace from Wallace and Gromit, to recreate) and for some reason Jackie Chan and Saddam Hussein. After a few days in the small coastal town, we eventually managed to get out of there and catch a few buses and a train to get to Chennai (or Madras), however Chennai doesn't feel like the kind of place where you want to spend more than 1 day so we decided to jump train in Villapuram with the rest of the Swedish crew, were we could catch yet another bus to get to the former French colonial town of Pondecherry (or Puducherry). What we've seen of Pondecherry so far is nice, finding accommodation wasn't the easiest of tasks but eventually we got it right. We won't be staying here for long though and no matter how long we postpone our goodbyes we know it will very shortly have to be done as Joshua and I have to catch a train from Chennai to Calcutta (or Kolkata.. why can't they just stick with the names they've been given by their colonial overlords) on Tuesday morning. The journey will take 27 hours and it's funny to think that the distance we covered in over 2 months we will by Wednesday have covered more than in about 3 days!! The east coast has really been neglected but as I've said before you can always come back! I can finish by telling you that we have also just booked our tickets to Thailand (on Friday the 13th... how's that for pushing my luck), so by the end of the week I should have an Indian summary and start of a new chapter in this fantastic blog, read with great anticipation!

Thefts and Disease

Not the most joyous of titles I know, but this is India. This time I'm not the one to have been robbed, the unlucky guys this time were the two Jonas (nicknames Billy and Salle) and Daniel who woke up one morning to find that someone had snuck into their room and stolen: two mobile phones, one camera, one ipod and quite a few thousand rupees. Very annoying and it feels even more uncomfortable to know how professional these guys were managing to get with them the chargers for all electronics despite being in different cases and parts of the room. Anyway I went one of the guys to the police station, were we basically just waited and waited whilst identical officers in uniform (which i think includes a big black mustache) walked in circles around us until eventually (aka 3 hours) we got the ONE signature they needed and left. The morning after I managed to pick up my 39.6 degree fever again, which I have missed o so much, and it chose a great day to show up on Isabelle's birthday which Miriam and I had planned for quite some time. I'm not sure exactly how the day turned out as I was in bed for most of it, but I think it all went down very well. The surprise-day was spent poolside in a luxury hotel and then we had a nice dinner and drinks in the cocktail lounge, before settling in our Air conditioned rooms with thick duvets and television. It's strange the luxuries you can forget, just things you take for granted like warm water and electricity without power cuts feel topnotch when in India. The illness seems to have settled now but I know how devious he can be, so I'm taking it a tad more relaxed at the moment. Varkala otherwise is treating us well, relaxing on the beach, eating good food (most of the time) and beer or as they call it here "Pop Juice" served in teacups as the alcohol law in Kerala is quite strict (allthough the police know exactly what's going on and quite obviously take loads of money under the table.) Soon though I think we have to head over to another country which is sad as we haven't seen everything we want to see in India yet and also to say farewell to everyone, but you can always come back to India and practically everyone we've met are swedish so they won't be hard to keep in touch with either. More news when we know what's actually happening to us...

Houseboating

So just to make everyone calm from the start I can tell you all: my flipflops were successfully mended. The magical man was called Anthony, he was about 1 metre tall and worked in a shop the size of a shoebox. My shoes were fixed within a minute with some simple stitching and he refused to take my money until i forced it into his hand, so remember if you ever have troubles in Fort Cochin ask for Anthony he can mend anything from flipflops to broken hearts. We stayed in Cochin for a total of 5 nights before heading south to the small town of Alleppey by local bus. The local busrides here are no joke, the white dotted line down the middle of the road has no meaning in India and the whole trip quickly turns into a constant chicken race. We only stayed in Alleppey for 1 night and then went on a 24 hour houseboat cruise down the river and canal systems to the town of Kollam. The houseboats in Kerala are just amazing, incredible craftsmanship and the best accommodation we have found in India so far, allthough you can't help but feel like you are a white man during colonial times when you cruise between the palm trees sipping tea served by Indian men throughout. Apart from that feeling I would say it was one of the best experiences of my life, beautiful environment, great food, nice weather and all you can hear is birds and the silent motor humming. I don't think I can think of anytime in my life when I've been more relaxed and tranquil. I could have stayed on that boat for weeks on end, but "unfortunately" we reached our destination as planned and two local busrides and 4 hours later we arrived in the beach town of Varkala. I haven't had too much time to judge Varkala yet, but what I've seen so far I really like. The whole town is built high up by the cliffs and has a nice beach waiting below. It's nice to get back into beach-mode and as a difference from the beaches we've been on before the waves down here are actually quite strong which can be nice for a change. I'll see if I can manage to persuade Miriam and Isabelle to let me post some of their pictures on here soon even though they have a strict policy of not uploading any of their pictures on the internet. However my stomachs rumbling now and we're going to go get some dinner...

Cochin

So after two nights in Mangalore, in a hotel room full of bedbugs and mosquitoes, we have now been in the coastal town of Cochin in the state of Kerala for three days. The bus ride down took 11 hours but once again went very smoothly. Cochin (or as some call it Kochi) is a really nice town, about the size of Stockholm with a once vibrant but now rather dormant harbour. It has an interesting mix and history, with amongst others Portuguese, British and Dutch settlers, and also has a 2000 year old Jewish community melted in with the Catholic, Muslim, Hinduist and various other religious cultures. Vasco Da Gama died and was buried in this town (though later moved to Portugal) and Kerala is the first place in the world to elect a Communist government in a democratic election back in 1957, which quite obviously still rules to this day as you can’t walk many metres without seeing posters of Marx and Lenin or red flags with scythes and hammers swaying above your head, but enough of the history lesson. Our days here have been spent cruising between the two main islands on the cheap ferry, walking or rickshawing around the town looking at various sights, playing football (so far no cricket) with local kids and eating delicious cakes and doughnuts. Joshua has been unfortunate enough to pick up a nasty infection, oozing with pus in his knee and has been to the local hospital to get some anti-biotics which will hopefully help. Also we have met up with the three Swedes we met in Palolem, Jonas and Jonas from Dalarna and Daniel from Gothenburg, tagging along with them is the Essex lad James, how he copes with us 7 Swedes I don’t know. Anyway the 8 of us will probably head further south soon heading for backwater houseboats and more beaches as tans in India don’t seem to last very long in the cities. Sadly I can tell you all my trusty flip-flops have now broken and as the Indian market does not offer very comfortable slippers this could mean serious bad new for your brave author, however all hope is not lost as rumour has it an old man in Fort Cochin with a wooden shop can mend anything… We’ll just have to wait and see…

Mangalore

We (still the same four swedes) have now arrived in the small town of Mangalore (not to be confused with the bigger town of Bangalore) on the western coast still in the state of Karnataka, but first things first an update on Gokarna. Our stay in Gokarna (and really our whole time in India) can be described with one Hindi word: "Shanti", which means something like "relax" or "take it easy," I'm not too bothered what it really means as long as I can continue doing it. "Om Beach" in Gokarna was nice and quiet, empty at all times except for Saturdays and Sundays when Indian male tourists flock from all over the country to stare at western women bathing in bikinis, this has been the case on every beach so far but was made (if possible) even more obvious when a beach is so deserted at other times. It was nice to come back to the beach-life as our tans had already started fading after a week away from the coast. Gokarna town was also nice and very cute, it felt very Portuguese not to different from some neighborhoods in Maputo. So anyway back to the present, I'm happy to say that my illness has now almost completely vanished and I am now hopefully immune to all Indian bugs. Last evening we took the train for five hours down the coast, and arrived in the town of Mangalore. Mangalore is a lot bigger than what we have seen for the past month, and it feels like we have now left “Diet India/India Light” and have reentered the real world with just as many calories as it should contain. However Mangalore is much smaller and cleaner than for example Mumbai, and has some nice air-conditioned shopping malls which feel rather luxury after nothing but street shopping so far. We stay in Mangalore for one more night and tomorrow evening we take a sleeper bus to a new state and a new town, but more about that when we have arrived.

Sick As A Dog

All right who had their money on 29 days? In that case cash in, because that's how long it took me to get sick in India. I've had some minor hiccups prior to this but have now landed the full scale "Delhi Belly." I've been more or less knocked out with 39.5 degree fever for a few days now, going up and down all the time, crushing headache, pain in all limbs and also irregular visits to the very nice Indian lavatories (Nurse Niki what do these symptoms indicate?). I picked it up at some point during my "Rehab" in Hampi but still decided to make the 10 hour bus-journey (no bicycles yet) down to the coast again, this time to the small town of Gokarna. The bus-ride was not the most pleasant but not at all as bad as I had expected it to be. We were scammed at every possible point though as we were forced to buy additional trips to our allready fully paid ticket, but eventually arrived on "Om Beach" at around 5 o clock in the morning. As all guesthouses were closed when we arrived we decided to catch a few hours sleep on the beach. This seemed like a great idea until we woke up surrounded by cows who got a bit aggressive when they realised we had nothing to offer them apart from a few bananas, however things worked out fine and we are now staying at a really nice guesthouse right by the beach. I feel better now and hopefully it will stay that way but you never know with India, I'll write more when I can give a more detailed report on Gokarna.

Hampin Around

Our last nights in Palolem were nice, as the Goa tradition goes we bought fireworks and sent them off before we took the bus to Hampi (which is much further from the ocean than I ever thought I would get during this trip). The 10 hour busride wasn't too bad, allthough Josh and I had to share a narrow bed and I felt like a middleaged woman as my bodytemperature swung from boiling to freezing throughout the night. We've now been in the historic town of Hampi for a few nights, don't ask me what it's historic for though. It is extremely different from Goa here, very calm and quiet (almost like rehab as I have only had half a Kingfisher since arriving), not sure they've heard of the invention of the chair as every restaurant just has mattresses laid out on the floor which is cozy. We've rented bikes and also done some Rickshaw-sightseeing seeing the Hampi sights, watched the sunset from the top of the Hannuman temple, where we were attacked by the monkeys who basically run the place. The landscape in Hampi is absolutly breathtaking, at some point in my life I expect to see something and think "Wow, now I've seen everything" but every time I do something completly unique and different shows up. The small town is surround by mountainous piles of boulders in every direction as far as the eye can see, I wish I could upload some pictures, but (as my hilarious uncle clearly pointed out) this is unfortunately not possible due to lack of camera. I guess you could just Google (product placement) it and see what I'm talking about. The four of us will probably stay in Hampi for a few more days then head south again, rumours flourishing at the moment suggest that the next stage of the trip may be completed using two wheels in the form of a bicycle, I guess you'll just have read this space to find out...

Doh!

The inevitable has now happened; last night was the night of the Headphone Party which was actually quite good. We had quite a few beers and drinks before and suddenly the idea didn’t seem as mental. At the end of the night Josh and I had lost our key, so Josh stayed in the shack of three Swedish guys (Yeah we don’t hangout with anyone from outside of our home country, our guesthouse complex I think has about 80% Swedes now, and should soon be considered a colony) we’ve met, and I slept in the hammock outside our shack. I remember having my wallet and camera before falling asleep, and putting them on my porch, but when I awoke all that was left was my Swedish tobacco “snus.” The wallet didn’t have too much money in it and doesn't bother me whatsoever, however the camera had about 200 pictures taken which I don’t have any longer. And the most annoying part is that I had decided I was going to upload the pictures today as I have found an internet place with a fast connection. I guess I should be happy for the small things, like the fact that my “snus” isn’t gone and that miraculously I haven’t lost one pair of flipflops since Thailand. Also I’m going to take the wise advice I got from an Irishman I met (read following in an Irish accent to make it seem more genius) “I guess you’ll just have to use your eyes now then!” Otherwise things are still as fantastic in Palolem, soaking up the sun, watching football and we’ve even found a quiz-night. On Tuesday night Joshua, the two Swedish sisters (Miriam and Isabelle) and I are taking a bus inland for about 9 hours to the town of Hampi, which is supposed to have some nice temples and stuff, we’ll see how long we find that interesting and then probably head south to more beaches in Kerala.

Life in Autopilot

Since last not much has happened, still in Palolem and life is very easy at the moment. A bit of day time trekking to "Monkey Island" and nearby beaches which are paradise like and completely empty followed by beers and football at night. We usually eat breakfast and lunch at our guesthouse "Brendons" with some incredibly cute puppies and their not so cute mother called "Puppy-Moma." Palolem is a bit strange in one sense for being a beach with mostly young people, because they've put a silence curfew at midnight. Of course this doesn’t mean people go to sleep but has sparked a concept which I've never found before "headphone parties." Basically they give you exactly what it says on the tin, completely quiet parties with loads of idiots dancing to different songs. The headphone parties I've attended have had a choice of three channels in the headphones which you rent, two channels pumping the local "Goa Trance" and one offering something more relaxed like Barry White or Lionel Richie. On Saturday they’re having a big “Silent Noise” party on the beach with laser-shows and fireworks, so we’ve decided that we’re going to check it out and this time go all in and hopefully we'll all look like a bunch of real c*nts! Which should be nice!

Paulolem

We stayed in Anjuna for a total of three nights, it wasn't really our cup of tea (or whatever those guys drink to forget) Nothing wrong with it in general just a bit too hippie. We took a 2 hour long taxi ride south, and ended up in Palolem. Now we're talking, no families, not too many obnoxious Russians, a handful of friendly hippies but most of all a truly amazing beach, we've ended up in paradise. Palolem beach is located in a horseshoe formed bay, and on the beach they have allowed nothing but palm trees and bungalows on stilts. We're not ON the beach per say, but from our bed we are lulled to sleep by the waves crashing in on the beach. The shacks are very basic and sloppily built, with huge gaps between every floorboard and cracks in the plywood walls but it all adds too the charm, (just this morning we were woken by a cat who had managed to squeeze in under the door, but we like him as he keeps the rats away.) We've also met two sisters from Stockholm, Miriam and Isabelle, who as it turns out (of course, Sweden is too small) I have mutual friends with. We've spent our days so far with some mountain trekking in flip-flops looking for monkeys, which we actually managed to see and relaxing on the beach. Isn’t it ironic (more ironic then anything Alanis Morrisette mentions in her song) I go to Africa and swim in the Indian Ocean, but when I go to India I swim in the Arabian Sea… how queer! Josh and I also went on a "lake cruise" which was actually a swamp cruise, seeing loads of kingfishers (the bird not the beer) and herons and then we fished for crabs, catching some pretty big ones, all in the cruise went on for about 3 hours (basically we paid a man to do his job.) It was interesting but could have been about two hours and 45 minutes shorter. All in all though Palolem is great, and at the moment we have no plans on leaving. Who knows I might end up here for life… or a week.

It's Hippie Time

After writing last we eventually got to the delayed wedding reception, an amazing event at a big outdoor resort with small waterfalls and palm trees everywhere, I made a quick seatcount and estimated around 600 guests. Apart from the wedding we've been checking out what Baga Beach has to offer, it turns out they offer loads of Russians with too much money and white trash Brits with tattoos all over (I don't think I've seen one single British man without The Three Lions scarred into some part of his body) so we've mostly relaxed with beers on the beach. India has to main brands of beer, Kingfisher who's slogan is "The King Of Good Times" and Cobra who have counterattacked with "Why have a good time when you can have a great time." However we have opted for just having a good time as having a great time apparently means drinking sweet urine. Also Goa has its own special liquor called Feni, it also comes in two types; one made from Cashew nuts and one made from the sap of a coconutpalm-tree, drinking it straight was quite horrible but mixing it with the local Limca soda is actually quite nice. Of course we managed to see the fantastic football match on Sunday, when my team United thumped Joshua’s team Chelsea 3-0! After staying in Baga Beach for about six days we felt we needed a change of scenery, so yesterday morning we took a 20 minute taxi ride northwards to the close by beach of Anjuna. Anjuna is surprisingly different from Baga despite the short trip, more hippie backpackers, not as many families, dodgy electricity which can disappear for hours on end and also the beaches are not quite as nice as Baga, with cowpats every here and there and a more rocky kind of beach, but you can't have your cake and eat it I guess. We haven't decided how long we're staying yet, but will probably travel southwards sooner rather than later to check out new beaches, I'll write more when I have more information.

Going to Go to Goa

... Ok, I've allready arrived, but that pun of a title was way to clever and witty to leave out of this genius blog. I think I could probably get a job writing puns for "The Sun." The train ride from Mumbai down to Goa was very smooth, no delays no hassle just plain enjoyment, I say those British build one hell of a railway, God bless the queen! Goa is really nice, so far we've seen mostly the beach and bars located on the beach, but the old town is supposed to have some really nice colonial buildings from when this part of India was Portuguese. Last night we went to meet our mutual friend Sean, who has his roots in Goa. His cousin is getting married today so last night was some form of traditional rituals. It started with some fireworks from the balcony, then as it was a catholic occasion, we all stood up and recited "The Lord's Prayer" or as some call it "Our Father" I was stumped after those first two words, and stood silently trying not to draw attention by moving my lips slightly, after this everybody attending the party walked up, one by one and poured coconut-milk on the groom and his two best men (one of them being Sean.) Later on at the party I was sitting underneath the shrine of Jesus, when all of a sudden i felt my arm getting quite warm, as I was in conversation with a woman at the party I didn't want to be rude and interrupt, so I ignored it for a while, then realised the candle wax from the catholic shrine was pouring down my arm, the commotion that followed made me the local celebrity for the next few minutes, with people telling me how I had been blessed by the Lord, however this felt like it could only be punishment for not knowing his prayer. After this we went out for a nice dinner with Sean's family and then home for some sleep. As I said the wedding is today, Joshua and I aren't attending the actual ceremony but will be joining in for the reception afterwards, so I have to go home and get ready for that now, shit we should probably find a present, but what can one find in a tourist area like this, maybe they can start their new life with matching beachtowels or why not a beach-tennis set for the honeymoon... we'll see if we find anything more suiting...

Quick Bombay Update

After writing last time we went to The Leopold (where you can still see clear evidence of last months events, with bullet holes priding many of the walls and windows inside) for a few beers and and a bite. Beware of the Crispy Spicy Chicken if you ever visit, delicious but oh so spicy, and I think I found out this morning what Johnny Cash was singing about in "Ring Of Fire." Today we've just been buming about, took a walk on the beach, which was quite nice but the water is so poluted I feel sorry for whoever takes a swim there. Now we've just been to the movies, saw Madagaskar 2, I managed to get some sleep whilst watching it, which I never think is good review for a film. Also we've bought a train ticket to Goa. The train leaves late tomorrow night, and takes us to the beaches midday tuesday. I'm really looking forward to getting some tan, as the sun seems to have a hard time squeezing through the heavy smog. Now it's back out for a few more beers and I'll write more when I've arrived in Goa.

Mmmumbai

Our last night in Doha was allright, quite quiet we went to the old souqe which was interesting, ate some lamb liver and kidneys drank extremely sweet tea and smoked some apple flavoured waterpipe. The day after was rather grey, so we tried to kill the hours we had as best we could before flying to Mumbai. Allthough the plane arrived 45 minutes early we didn't arrive until around half past three in the morning. We found an airport "security guard" who told us there was no idea going into Colaba (The most popular area of Mumbai for tourists) so late at night and told us to take a taxi to a nearby hotel instead. We followed his advice and of course we had been had, but were to tired to care. The Hotel was almost the same price as the one in Qatar allthough the differences couldn't be more obvious, rotting walls, staff sleeping in the staircases, fair enough the small room had a colour T.V, but the only colour it could show was red! We tried to fall asleep but as the hotel was situated right next to a railroad crossing this became quite hard. Eventually we got some shut-eye and in the morning decided to make our way to Colaba by commuters train. A friendly local helped us find our way and even payed for our rickshaw as we didn't have any small change for the driver. We took a rickshaw to the train station and stood in queue for about thirty minutes to buy a ticket, meanwhile small children flocked around us nealing and touching our feet, begging for money, getting shooed of by other indians in the line. Finally we got our ticket and got on the train, it was jam packed with people, first we almost got onto the women's carriage, but finally squeezed into a men's wagon, it turned out to be first class allthough it couldn't have disguised itself any better. At the next station we were thrown off and had to run to another carriage, jumping on with our backpacks whilst the train had started moving. When the train stopped at Churchgate Station we took a taxi which took us to Colaba. Mumbai really has it's contrasts and coming here from a well off country like Qatar make the contrasts even stronger. Entire families sleep on the side of the highway, dogs run around everywhere, beggars are grabbing at you constantly and every now and then a cow shows up out of nowhere, all of this mixed with shantytowns and english colonial buildings which look to have been airlifted straight out of London. Since the terrorist attacks a month ago, security has apparently tightened up, armed guards walk the streets and metal detectors guard all the main tourist areas. After a lot of walking and haggling we found a room at the Hotel Regal Plaza (Sound fancy?.. it really isn't!) right down the road from the popular tourist hangout "The Leopold Cafe" (one of the main targets for the terrorists during last months attacks.) We had a nice Tikka Masala for lunch today and a few Kingfisher beers, which tasted amazingly good after spending two days in the dry city Doha. We haven't decided how long we're staying in the city before heading for the beaches of Goa south of Mumbai but I will write when I know more. Now I think it's time for some more Kingfishers, tata for now!

Happy New Qatar Year!

So me and Joshua arrived last evening in the capital of Qatar, Doha without any major mishaps, allthough Joshua's backpack went missing for an hour at the baggageclaim. We came to our hotel and to our surprise it was amazingly posh, our "suite" has two televisions one in the livingroom and one the dubble-bedroom, a bathroom with one showercabinet, one bathtub a toilet and of course the mandatory muslim bidet. We decided to start celebrating the new year by drinking some of the chinese rice-spirit I got from my cousin for Christmas, only to find that Allah had punished me for bringing alcohol to an Islam country, the bottle had leaked all over my clothes. The smell was quite putrid and the taste was if possibly even worse. We both had one sip, felt sick for 30 minutes and threw the rest away, Thanks Nina! After this I found a shirt and a pair of pants that didn't stink of booze and we went to see if we could find some place who would serve us alcohol. We found the pianobar at the Movenpick hotel. It was the equivalent of 450 SEK just to get in, and a beer inside cost us 100. We decided not to drink more than two beers and the complimentary glass of champagne and then waited impatiently for the clock to strike twelve. The atmosphere inside was quite sad, like a really boring cruise or a tragic weddingparty, but we stuck it out shook hands with a few people then went for a midnight walk instead. Doha is a very strange place, 80 % is a giant construction site, and the rest is fancy skyskrapers built in blue mirrored glass. Everybody drives a nice car wearing white pyjamas except for the "local" workers who are all imported from India, Pakistan or East Asia. Today we have been walking around for 3 hours looking for food, which proved much harder than it sounds, you really need a car to get around this town. We went in to the Musuem of Islamic Art which was quite interesting... just kidding it was very dull! Then we continued our hunt for food. Eventually we found "The City Center" which is huge mall with and iceskating rink and loads of fancy shops and of course KFC, which was to be our "exotic" lunch. Now we're going to take a cup of coffee and then take a taxi back to our hotel as walking around for three hours in flipflops was rather painful. Tonight we can hopefully find some local food at the Old Souq (Marketplace.) Next time I write I will hopefully be in Mumbai where we can hopefully drink some beer and eat something without spending a fortune.