Did you hear about the Norwegian who...

With Danelle coming all the way from South Africa to visit here in Scandinavia again, it was time to explore other parts of the country. One such idea was to visit Norway's 3rd biggest city, Trondheim, which is roughly 30 miles from here (Those not from Sweden, 30 Swedish miles is roughly 300 kms)

Car rented, accommodation sorted, food made and ideas in mind, we left on a sunday for a 24 hour jaunt into the Norwegian country.

True to Swedish standards, we rented a station wagon car (yes yes, old mans car but it was cool). Never before have I been impressed with a Kia, but this diesel engined rental was filled with enough driving gadgets to make sure I didnt get bored with the 80km/h speed limit the whole way around Norway.

Kia rental, ja well no fine, least its a station wagon...

Once more, taking after Swedish traditions learned from family here and a recent expedition from the 232's; the drive there and back deemed necessary to stop at a scenic spots to have a fika, (thermo's coffee, sarmies, kaviar etc etc). Seemed a waterfall was a good place to stop, blew Danelle's mind that a place with so much water can freeze over, solidly in winter time. It puts it into perspective how bl***ie cold it gets here.

Once in Norway, the scenery changes and the road becomes narrower, winds around the country side and slows down to a meagre 80km/h. Makes for a good speed to see the beautiful country side.

Nearing Trondheim, make sure you stop in a place called: "Hell". Yip, a village called Hell. At this point, feel free to make all the jokes you can about Hell freezing over, been to Hell an back blah blah blah. No idea how they get that name, but I guess its all part of the oddness of Norway.

Trondheim itself is a scenic city, built on a fjörd, shaped by nature but dominated by man, it makes for interesting sight seeing, old and new architecture, harbours and commerce. It seems to have developed on a society of juxtaposition. Worth going to see just to say you have seen it. Go see Nideros Catherdral (the most northerly Cathedral in Europe and have to pay to go inside). The fort offers the best views of the city and dont park anywhere you cant afford.

This being said, its the most expensive place in  the world to go to, money oozes out this place. Makes sense now why the Norwegians come to spend money in Sweden, the Swedes go to Germany, The Germans go to the Czech and heaven help anyone from Czech going to Norway...

Despite dying from the cost, it made for an interesting drive and an interesting place to really get a feel for the oddness of Norway.

Still was great seeing a proper ocean again...

Hemingway who? This is Andrew's Africa

“All I wanted to do now was get back to Africa. We had not left it, yet, but when I would wake in the night I would lie, listening, homesick for it already.”

– Ernest Hemingway, Green Hills of Africa

Where can I start describing, an experience that transcends many day to day experiences. A country of reality, history, language, sights, sounds, sensations and much more that exceeds expectations. Winston Churchill termed Uganda as the Pearl of Africa and he’s apt description still stands 100 years on.

The decision to travel to Uganda stemmed from my sisters invitation. She and her husband had moved to Uganda for new adventures, work opportunities and way of life. Her offer was too good to be ignored, and seeing as I was np longer going to Cyprus, the need for something completely different, AND a good break with great sunshine was needed after a real busy summer.

The trip was booked a month before I left and truth be told, was booked without knowing what to do, or, honestly, where Uganda actually was. All I knew was that I was going to spend time with my sister, and hopefully do a little white water rafting, that was all. Little did I know what a jam packed full week it would be.

I arrived at 2 AM in Entebbe, Uganda’s international airport with Karen waiting to greet. The short drive to the inn was brief but surreal as the realisation of Africa still hadn’t hit me. After booking into the room and seeing the rough furniture and mosquito nets, I realised, EISH, its real. Waking up the next morning, in T-shirt and shorts to a rooster calling, it finally sunk in that Africa is happening.

Welcome to Africa

The capital of Uganda is Kampala, or should be called Crazytown. Its bedlam in that city. The sights, sounds, noise and chaos all comes together in a manic disorganisation that is Kampala. Its Africa at its reality and cannot be described unless visited. Imagine 10 million people in a barely tarred, built up area, people driving Hi Ace vans, 4wd’s and motorbikes all over as fast as they can with no rules. Nuts…yet, with a glamerous side of a golf course, 5 star hotels and the best cappuccinos money can buy.

4wd Special Custom Hi Ace...only in Africa

From Kampala, Karen and myself split up from Deon to travel to a reserve about 380 kms away. This journey took 4 hours, luckily, its predicted to take 6, depending on the traffic of Kampala. Its amazing to see the countryside, such a lush, green country with masses of water and fertile land.

The next few days were a blur of African wilderness and adventures in Murchison Falls National Park, Uganda’s oldest park protected since 1926. Karen surprised with a chimpanzee trekking trip. What an amazing experience, as you trek through lush tropical jungles, tree’s 50-60 metres tall and so wide you cannot even put your arms around them. Birds calling constantly, cicada beetles clicking and just being immersed in the jungle. Yes we got to see Chimps in their natural habitat but the overall experience was indescribable.

On the banks of the Nile at the waterfalls, we planked, took pictures, went on sunset boat cruises, waterfall cruises, drank beer, had a laugh, made great friends, met interested people and just relished all that Africa had to offer. Pictures speak 1000 words…

Karen and Deon stay in a town called Mbale, on the eastern side of Uganda. Nestled the foothills of Wanele Ridge, part of a volcanic ridge stemming from Mount Elgon, a volcanic landmass. Its one of the larger towns of Uganda but still has a very rural and undeveloped appeal. Littered with busy markets, NGO’s, volunteer organisations and numerous stunning hotels, Mbale is known for its rain and bad potholed roads…

Heading into Mbale

Matooke 

Karen and Deons house is reminiscent of Shongwe…for those who remember what it looked like. It’s a large, high roofed, green house whereby function presides over form. Cool in the warm days and dry when it rains, it serves them well, with a large grassy garden and ever larger, muddy, fertile area at the back that serves as ariable land which grows the tastiest avocado’s, matooke, guava’s, sakuma weki and much much more, compliments to Karen and Pastor Mikes efforts.

Missionary Pose Karen in the garden

The week is also divided by leisurely mornings of breakfast of the stoep, furious work until lunch time, which is either cooked by Sara the house lady (often using home grown produce), or lunch at one of the nearby hotels, with a swim and tasty food under the shady tree’s on the hotels lawns. Served by waiters in crisp white shirts, bow ties and food covered by stainless steel covers…one has to admit to a certain charm about olde world colonialism.

Matooke, Sakuma Weki, Goat and Fillet stew and good old Stoney

3-4 kilometres from the house is this stunning waterfall, on the ridge that has 4-5 waterfalls. This particular day was spent scrambling up to Nondongoro?? 

Waterfall with Moses. The paths were littered with coffee bean plantations, beans, banana’s, goats, vanilla, potatoes, tomatoes, yams etc etc and a million children all cheering an Mzungu on with the same saying “Mzungu, how are you…fine, how are you” Got to love Africa.

Coffee Beans on Wanele Ridge

A highlight of Uganda was spending a night on the Nile at a luxury lodge which is a “smultronställen” of Karen and Deon; The Haven. The views are unmatched from this place. The purpose of the lodge was to give Karen and Deon a respite from a stressful week and also to allow for white water rafting for myself…lets just say that I have realised I lack the fear of danger when it comes to water and have found a calling. Rafting on the Nile.

Happiness is Karen and Deon in Nature

View from The Haven on the Nile

Uganda surprised me with its heart warming people, skin warming sunshine, soul burning adventure. A culturally diverse place, filled with opportunities and laughs, always surprising with something that doesn’t make sense, a place worth taking thousands of pictures…a place called home for Karen and Deon…a place called Africa

Mo-stanbul...

Now if ever you want to typecast or stereotype, there is no better city that I have travelled to that strikes a chord like Istanbul. A city divided between 2 continents, but 1 flamboyant character throughout. 

The Capital of Turkey, Istanbul, served as a welcome host for a 12 hour layover on the way to visit my sister in Uganda, and a welcome host it was indeed.

Spurred by the fact that one doesn’t need a visa, and rumours of cheap means of entertainment, little stood in the way of making the most of the 12 hours at the destination. If you want a wise way to spend €50, Istanbul perhaps leads the bidding towards €50 well-invested-in-a-day reward.

Even though the day started early at 5 AM, little can match a Turkish coffee; Starbucks style, to get one revving for the day ahead. 

The Metro rail and train system, once you get your head around it, works like a charm; and old world chivalry lives on strong, with youngsters standing up to hand over seats on the crowded coaches to elderly or pregnant.

The city panorama from a distance just doesn’t justify the detail once up close. Colours, Marble, Architecture…it’s a indiscernible collection of ancient mixed with derelict, all sprayed and washed down daily to create a particular early morning glide that forces you to pay even closer detail to where and how you walk.

The city scape is a positive assault of the senses. Your eyes are constantly absorbing a kaleidoscope of colours and textures, from markets to stalls. Your sense of smell abused by a population that over 80% smokes, mixed with the smell of meat grilling and spice markets. Your skin is warmed by a humid sunshine and brushed by people constantly. The city never sleeps and engines, hooters, music and languages are assaulting your ears…and your taste…your taste is the sense that can laud over the others. Spices, fruits, turkish coffee, tea’s and sweet treats are all on offer to exceed all taste expectations that may precede the reality. 

Back to spending €50 for a day, I do recommend spending a large proportion of it at a Haman, a Turkish Bath. Going to one that is claimed to the in the 1001 things to see before you die, I would agree. Chose your treatment at the bath, and head into a room where you are told to strip completely and wear just a cotton towel. Wearing wooden shoes that create an echoing racket in the marble halls and clacking into the steam room, you sit on a hot marble centre piece to wait your turn. After relaxing for 5 minutes, I had Osman, a short, moustached, hairy and big bellied gentleman say: “welcome, is your turn”. Osman was there to sandpaper, washed down, soaped up and twisted, bent, bones clicked and generally be treated like a rubber band. Overall, well worth the money spent as you do literally feel like rubber afterwards.

A walk through the spice market, gold market, fish market, leather jacket market (brush up on your Russian for some reason) and sweet market are all well worth the mosey about.

The best food is one that is about 4 bucks cheaper than anywhere else, has no clean tables and are full of the locals smoking, drinking tea and stuffing meaty treats into their mouth. Where they eat, you should eat also. 

Furthermore, how tough can it be to beat a city, whose image of people is the moustache? From the first boarding, I had a boy in the que before me, no older than 12 with a moustache. The kicker is that, no matter how impressive the 12 year old was with his “mo”, it just couldn’t match his mothers…

This must be Moustache City. “Mo-vember” has nothing on Mo-stanbul.

12 hours in Istanbul…do it.

1 year, and counting

13 August, 2011. One calendar year,  365 days. A seemingly insignificant quote, but ask each individual what their perceptions are of a year, and you will get a multitude of answers. To me, well, in this instance, is merely a celebration.
This date signifies one year since landing in Sweden to start a new adventure. One year can hold a vast array of experiences, just some highlights that have been are as follows:

• I have changed citizenship, registered as a Swede, yet remaining a South African as far as possible
• I have changed occupation, reverting from working class to student.
• Experienced the coldest weather in my life, a bone chilling -32 degree's Celsius.
• Met more people from foreign cultures in a short space of time, something comparable to United Nations. 
• Been confused with Australians, English, Yanks and denied being South African because I am white.
• Wondered if IKEA can become a religion
• Experienced daylight hours no longer than 4 hours and experienced the midnight sun.
• Failed an exam, spun a car off the road, been fined for being corrupt, and paid way to much for a beer.
• Caught 4 new species of fish on fly rod and fished through a hole in ice.
• Celebrated major events Swedish style, usually involving a fire, a dance and some odd tasting alcohol. Events being Autumn, Pre-Christmas, Christmas, New Years, Easter, Spring, Mid summer...and so on
• Been to SA, had South Africans visiting and something in between.
• Learned to swallow and eat pickled fish.
• Crossed the polar circle
• Have replaced my blood levels with sugarless coffee thats as strong as a brick outhouse during fika's that occur anything between 3-17 times a day.
• Hiked up many mountains, spent time in many forests, fished many rivers and had a cracking good time all the way.
• Most importantly, learned and still learning, to trust God wholeheartedly for His divine plan that continues to unveil His mercy, grace and provision in every instance. 

And so, to another year to come and yet more experiences to attain. Challenges ahead include: continuing mastering this language, making it through another dark winter, fishing a little more than previously and what ever other amazing experience that I am sure is in store.

So to God be glory, and going on with hope, here's to another year, WOOHOO!

What are you vandring about?

Vandring; to hike, take a walk on the wildside, spend time in the wilderness, far from any people; to walk, self sufficient for a period of time: a Swedish pastime that is as closely linked to their passion for nature. Which, besides from telling the world that Sweden is the centre of Europe, is a Swedes second biggest passion, to protect “their” nature from man (read: themselves).

Three men start

Recently I found myself following in the footsteps of such a Swedes (literally), as we trudged (definition: the dejected walk of a man who has nothing left to lose) mellan 5 mil (definition: 2 million kilometres) across what seemed to be the unending Himalayan panorama (definition: Swedens “alps” in Jämtland) for about three months (definition, 4 days) No paths, no tracks, no people, no cabin, no clue….nothing. Just 5 people alone in the middle of the wilderness, surviving on whatever we could lug around on our backs, like domesticated yaks carrying supplies for a pilgrimage.*

Now don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love a good hike, as was the case in this experience, to be struck with a realisation that you are the only soul in a 50 km radius, no cell phone signal, no electricity, just you and whatever you are carrying; absolute self sufficiency. Standing atop a peak and reflecting on where you are and what you are doing does something to ones mind and soul. It certainly is a place to shake you to the core and make you connect with God in way you cannot imagine, not just muttering at some point “God I am so close to You in height now, please just scoop down and pluck me off this earth right here”. (To be honest, there were not many of those moments at all)

Kai in one of those "Close to God" moments

The expedition party consisted of 5 members, and as the marching song went:

“On and on and on again;

Who the hell are we?

A Dane, a Swede, a Germ, a Saffa and a Bl**dy Kiwi”

The end of the hike had this in 5 different languages.

And the group is...

Relying on ourselves for provisions, sleeping arrangements consisted of a mattress, tent and sleeping bags, cooking was done on a “triangia” portable kitchen and whatever food we could carry. Turns out dehydrated chicken curry and chilli con carne can be really delicious after hours outside. Hunger really is the best spice.

A Dane and a Germ cooking up  a dehydrated storm

With the Swede being the guide, we soon realised that even Swedes can be unprepared. Items forgotten among others being; waterproof clothing, warm clothing, lunches…turns out resourcefulness leads to a sweater becoming long johns and such other improvised inventions at a pinch.

Improv swedes

The act of hiking is known as vandring in Swedish, and the never-ending joke that kept me amused was; “vell vat are you vandring about?”.  Funny how after three days, unknown distances covered and a bruised toe can lead to some members not thinking that its that funny any more*.

*This explains the reason the marching song contains the phrase: bl**dy Kiwi. (Please note, this also has nothing to do with a Saffa’s inbred disdain at anything linked to New Zealand’s rugby rivalry, or recent scarring of the cricket world cup knock out stages)

Our accommodation was provided by most hiking members carrying the tents. Each day ended with selecting a fantastic campsite, one person making the dinner while the others set the tents up and fetching water. The views and times at the camp sites were simply astounding. Its tough to describe the feeling, that after a hard days slog, to have a dip in an ice cold lake (literally snow-still-melting cold), and sit back after a good meal, looking out over the vast panorama, mug of wine in hand and appreciate where you are. Truly magnificent.

Did I mention that the greatest part of each camp was the ablution facilities? Choose a spot with the best view, toilet paper and matches in hand and all off a sudden epiphany’s can spring to ones mind when you least expect it. Case in point, invention of the Marching Song. Memorable indeed!

The weather was flamboyant at best. It was only after we had experienced some of the hottest weather in Sweden (about 25 degrees), seen pale skins turn pink and sweated the equivalent of our body weights that the Swede amongst us stated: “you should never be out in nature when the weather is perfect”. He was right, as three days of near perfect weather turned into a massive rainstorm on the second last day, which then turned into constant rain for the remainder of the hike. This is where the walk turned into a trudge, albeit a breathtakingly beautiful trudge through some of the most amazing scenery I have ever witnessed.

Wet weather pose

Its through the hardest parts of a hike where the best memories are made. Its also funny at how these times you keep getting reminded of the fact that there is always some member of the party that has the lighter bag, doesn’t offer group effort of sharing tent loads, cooking utensils, offers no food, eats everyone else’s snacks, constantly complains, has a terrible accent and is generally a like walking with the equivalent of a water buffalo for company. Please once again refer to the Marching Song for an innuendo on that member.

With friendships being formed, memories created, experiences gained, respect earned and suntan’s caught, this hike will certainly remain as one of my fondest memory’s for a very long time. Next time you see me with a distant look in my eyes, you could probably guess vat I am vandring about….

For those who grapple with the concept of ironic humour, or would like the plain facts, the hike was around a lake called Mjölkvatnet, was 48 kms long, took 4 days and was really amazing. See this link for details:

Map of Mjölkvatnet

Thankfully the ice has melted

Which means...dum dum dum, its outdoors, sunshine and fishing time!

The last two weeks have been filled with days consisting of a few minutes of sunshine, warmer temperatures, a bit of rain, 20 hours of sunshine, braai's, runs and of course a few days fishing. Still, its a bit early in the season, admittedly, but its no complaining getting out and having a few casts here and there to see whats, if anything is biting.

I have met up with a few friends who are crazy about outdoors and one or two who are nuts about fishing too and have explored a few regions. There are few fish to show for the effort, the memories of making a fire anywhere, viewing the awesome scenery that is to offer, and the return of smelling like a forest fire are all fondly remembered and eagerly looked forward to for the next times.

I have also spent a few days camping and doing a cycle tour. My good friend Kai and I packed out bikes recently, as lightly as we could, ie, no changes of clothes or unnecessary items (its good to be a man). Together we set off to a nearby nature reserve to enjoy some of Swedens best scenery. The great thing about swedes is their rule of the right of public access, meaning that you can camp anywhere and make a fire, as long as you are not invading someones privacy.

So, right next to a lake, we set up camp, made a HUGE fire and enjoyed a night outdoors, rain, wind and all. Despite the rain at 5 AM and gusting wind, we returned happy, smelly and filled with good memories of nature.

"What have we done moment?" with a good fire

The next night I followed more friends to yet another camping trip, to a different area and river for more camp memories. The sun tried to set at around 11 PM, we sat talking some more, set up a tent at 2 AM sans the aid of a torch it was that light, and attempted to sleep in the ever present glow of no evening. Great memories to behold.

Cycle tour bikes

River view

So, you see folks, 20 hours of sunshine, greenery, lack of snow and a fabulous arena for adventure, Sweden yet again delivers on entertainment.

Cool foxes skull for biology, mum.

And they call it a fishing boat

God smiles when you least expect it.