tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34856294355930286472024-03-13T22:16:14.905+01:00One for the RoadThis blog is part of <a href="http://bjornfree.com/"><strong>bjornfree.com</strong></a>, a free ebook/web project I'm doing, where I teach the world how to travel off the beaten path.Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-11333131348000840752014-08-23T18:09:00.000+02:002014-08-24T11:07:54.524+02:0042Today is my birthday. It's my forty-second. In Angola, Zambia, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Lesotho, Mozambique and Djibouti, I would have been dead, statistically. But I live in Norway, and in the world of nerds, turning 42 is sort of an especially special occasion.
<br>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7TLuSzojLdM/U_hoHFoF5dI/AAAAAAAATGE/Q-NM25bMTcE/s1600/01-LesoGodGammeldagsForfatting.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7TLuSzojLdM/U_hoHFoF5dI/AAAAAAAATGE/Q-NM25bMTcE/s1600/01-LesoGodGammeldagsForfatting.JPG" height="496" width="640"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Lesotho, pondering upon life.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Imagine drilling a hole in the ground, all the way down to the centre of the Earth. Then keep on drilling until you reach the surface on the other side. Empty all air from the hole and jump into it. I recommend bringing a tank of oxygen. Let gravity do its thing. It will take almost exactly 42 minutes from the moment you jump until you neatly pop out of the hole on the other side. But that is not why 42 is so special.<br>
<br>
In Japan, 42 is anything but a lucky number. The two digits, 4 and 2, pronounced together, "shi-ni", means "To the death" in Japanese. And 42 shouldn't even be halfway to death. At least not for those of us who were born in the north of Europe. But that's not the thing about 42, either.<br>
<br>
No, 42 is special because of its role in a book that is well-known by any nerd, and now also by many others. "The Hitch-Hikers Guide to the Galaxy", by Douglas Adams. In it, we can read about a civilization similar to our own, where people spend a lot of their time trying to figure what is the answer to the question about Life, the Universe and Everything. <br>
<br>
To figure it out, they build a giant computer that works on the problem for millions of years. Finally the day when the computation is done comes, to the great anxiety of all philosophers on that planet. "The answer is 42", the computer proudly declares. That is the answer to The great question.<br>
<br>
It may be the right answer, but as long as we don't know what the question is, we're none the wiser.<br>
<br>
I have squandered some of my years, or at least a few days worth of thought, on trying to understand why I am here, what the meaning of life may be. Now that I am 42, I might work harder on it, but I'm not sure I'll ever get any further to reaching a conclusion than I am now.<br>
<br>
I think I am in this world to observe it, to try and make sense of it, and to help others in all kinds of ways while I'm doing this. But what the purpose of all you others may be, now that is a lot harder for me to get a grip on. Still, I am satisfied by this thought, and I live by it every day.<br>
<br>
A birthday is just another day to me. So this day is just as good as any other for trying to decide on whether I have, so far, spent my life the way I should. I think so, although there are many things I haven't tried yet. And by that I don't mean eating fried pizza covered in chocolate or drunk driving, but more meaningful things.<br>
<br>
Let's start by having a look at what I did in my younger years, summarized in imaginary newspaper headlines:<br>
<ul>
<li>1972: Boy born in home for the aged.</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SpauLjK3XT4/U_hoWYSKTKI/AAAAAAAATGM/dbkoB1ichqQ/s1600/02-Badekaren.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SpauLjK3XT4/U_hoWYSKTKI/AAAAAAAATGM/dbkoB1ichqQ/s1600/02-Badekaren.png" height="301" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mostly harmless</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>1975: Bit dentist's finger, rewarded with small toy
</li>
<li>1979: Read One Thousand and One Nights, oblivious to the erotic bits</li>
<li>1982: New transportation device for children; Ice floes
</li>
<li>1983: Got both a computer and a concussion the same week. Agony, as enjoying the first is prevented by the other.</li>
<li>1985: Child worker: 13-year-old sold more than a hundred Commodore64 home computers
</li>
<li>1986: Confirmee fashion of the year; white suit, pink shirt and grey leather tie.</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3oc4z1kqwg0/U_ho79GPcYI/AAAAAAAATGo/epbNq9jZNqM/s1600/03-konf.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3oc4z1kqwg0/U_ho79GPcYI/AAAAAAAATGo/epbNq9jZNqM/s1600/03-konf.png" height="335" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, the humanity!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>1992: Conscripted young men shoots down airplane on Crete with missile
</li>
<li>1998: How to become an IT professional without writing a line of code</li>
</ul>
And then I started traveling.<br>
<br>
I think it's safe to say that I have had other priorities in my adult life than most people choose. Still, I have recently become part of the crowd, sort of, by buying a house, a car and home appliances for the first time in my life, together with the woman I have shared many journeys and other nice memories with for the last five years or so.<br>
<br>
I'm fairly happily doing this, but the more I get into the kind of activities that are socially expected of grown-ups, the happier I am that I didn't get started on this until now. <br>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ziGN85dxFH4/U_ho6fWUbPI/AAAAAAAATGY/pMpc8-fRahY/s1600/04-aaker.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ziGN85dxFH4/U_ho6fWUbPI/AAAAAAAATGY/pMpc8-fRahY/s1600/04-aaker.JPG" height="531" width="640"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As you can see, I will not be living downtown from now on.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Suddenly life is full of stuff that I have never before devoted any thought to. Paper work, budgets, screwdrivers, painting of walls, curtains, petrol and corrosion. Oh, and not forgetting the most ludicrous of all activities people choose to do; gardening! This all occupies time that my gut feeling tells me would be much better spent in, for example, Turkmenistan or Surinam.<br>
<br>
I'll obviously have to do something about this eventually. In the meantime I'll just try to go along with the kind of life that most people live, cheering myself up with the memories of all the things I have done and experienced in life so far. <br>
<br>
Please believe me when I say that this isn't about bragging to you, but about comforting myself, summing up what I have done instead of the things I "should" have done. Not only do I understand that others choose to live differently from me, I'm actually very happy that they do.<br>
<br>
Since I started traveling, I have: <br>
<ul>
<li>Warily made my way across the slippery penguin shit beaches of Antarctica.</li>
</ul>
<span id="goog_2101979220"></span><span id="goog_2101979221"></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YtJfD2HeYn4/U_ho6eSBJQI/AAAAAAAATGc/K9u1nqi0B_U/s1600/05-Selvinnsikt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YtJfD2HeYn4/U_ho6eSBJQI/AAAAAAAATGc/K9u1nqi0B_U/s1600/05-Selvinnsikt.jpg" height="481" width="640"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Self-reflection in Antarctica.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>Visited all the seven continents before I turned 30.
</li>
<li>Crossed Russia from east to west in a month, going by train and boat.
</li>
<li>Got to be alone with Tut Ankh Amon for a full 15 minutes.</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u2ZKNMZvhVI/U_ho8RWRUHI/AAAAAAAATGs/tiM73TzmYME/s1600/06-KairoGanskeKlarTut.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u2ZKNMZvhVI/U_ho8RWRUHI/AAAAAAAATGs/tiM73TzmYME/s1600/06-KairoGanskeKlarTut.JPG" height="400" width="286"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just call him Tut.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>Patted a giraffe on its head and tickled a jaguar's paws.
</li>
<li>Climbed the Great Pyramid of Giza at least a little bit before they spotted me.</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FJ-7Z7008BY/U_ho8SautOI/AAAAAAAATGw/kE5Zivkq51o/s1600/07-GizaPyramideneBeenThereDoneThat.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FJ-7Z7008BY/U_ho8SautOI/AAAAAAAATGw/kE5Zivkq51o/s1600/07-GizaPyramideneBeenThereDoneThat.JPG" height="473" width="640"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My camouflage was too warm and not sufficiently camouflage-y</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>Waited for more than two days for the bus in Banjul to fill up sufficiently with passengers. </li>
<li>Floated down the Amazonas river for five days and nights, 1,500 kilometers from Manaus to the Atlantic coast. </li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-krJGQpi3MQg/U_ho9T0KAQI/AAAAAAAATHA/VZJZolHK3B0/s1600/08-AmazonasferdenLykkelig.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-krJGQpi3MQg/U_ho9T0KAQI/AAAAAAAATHA/VZJZolHK3B0/s1600/08-AmazonasferdenLykkelig.JPG" height="424" width="640"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rainforest happiness.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>Been riding on a horse through water filled with crocodiles/caymans. Well, jacarés, really.</li>
<li>Been arrested for espionage in Egypt as well as in Trans-Dniestr (the latter twice in one day).</li>
<li>Snorkeled, dived and swallowed huge amounts of sea water along four of the five largest coral reefs in the world. </li>
<li>Gotten lost in fresh snow high up in the Himalayas.</li>
<li>Had my photos used in books and magazines in a number of languages, occupying almost one meter of bookshelf space in my library.</li>
<li>Represented all Christians in the world in a panel debate in far eastern Turkey, until someone discovered that I was just an atheist with a misleading middle name. I escaped. </li>
<li>Wandered day and night all alone through choice parts of the Sahara. </li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-snJiaIIZ8xA/U_ho-HfSDzI/AAAAAAAATHE/QC89mYpAin0/s1600/09-MerzougaDrakulaIOerkenen.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-snJiaIIZ8xA/U_ho-HfSDzI/AAAAAAAATHE/QC89mYpAin0/s1600/09-MerzougaDrakulaIOerkenen.JPG" height="516" width="640"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's just something special about a really huge desert </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>Visited almost 13 chocolate factories.</li>
<li>Never been a patient at any hospital. </li>
<li>Traveled to the Moon and almost back home by plane, except I chose a different route that took me all over the world.</li>
<li>Hiked all of Northern Spain, starting in France, on the pilgrim's route of Camino de Santiago. </li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4iEICKBQV94/U_ho-b9ZrsI/AAAAAAAATHQ/wUYj595_by0/s1600/10-MostelaresLittSoriaMoria.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4iEICKBQV94/U_ho-b9ZrsI/AAAAAAAATHQ/wUYj595_by0/s1600/10-MostelaresLittSoriaMoria.JPG" height="368" width="640"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Half-way there on an 800 kilometer walk. Considering turning around and go back. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>Traveled on the roof of a bus through Nepal.
</li>
<li>Had to persuade a bus driver in Australia to let me get off his bus in the middle of the nowhere to go hiking.</li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JgNF5vCcKaQ/U_ho_Uh5iRI/AAAAAAAATHY/dss9nPRS1Rc/s1600/11-KarijiniSlitenFyr.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JgNF5vCcKaQ/U_ho_Uh5iRI/AAAAAAAATHY/dss9nPRS1Rc/s1600/11-KarijiniSlitenFyr.JPG" height="467" width="640"></a></div>
<ul>
<li>Gone for a ride on an elephant, a camel, a donkey, a water buffalo, a cow and an ostrich. And on a few horses. </li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mLjxKl3t8Vw/U_hpAbYWuRI/AAAAAAAATHg/yDITbA391ng/s1600/12-OudtshoornStrutsUnderPress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mLjxKl3t8Vw/U_hpAbYWuRI/AAAAAAAATHg/yDITbA391ng/s1600/12-OudtshoornStrutsUnderPress.jpg" height="298" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bordering on animal abuse, but at least I have my pants on!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>Ran faster than at least three robbers in Zimbabwe. </li>
<li>Walked through half of Italy, from Milan to Rome. </li>
<li>Found more than a thousand hidden treasures in forests, mountains, cities, jungles, deserts and an owl and a duck. </li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0nHhtKCq-Fw/U_hpBFdtyUI/AAAAAAAATHo/yEDlLxhO-qI/s1600/13-Apecacheloeft.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0nHhtKCq-Fw/U_hpBFdtyUI/AAAAAAAATHo/yEDlLxhO-qI/s1600/13-Apecacheloeft.JPG" height="300" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I risked my life to find this thing. (I had to drive a rental car in Brazil.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>Briskly walked from one side of Monaco to the other.
</li>
<li>Snuck into The Gambia from Senegal by using a stamp I made with a potato. </li>
<li>Celebrated the Mayan New Year in the temple city of Tikal. </li>
<li>Been rolling on the floor laughing in North Korea, after being presented with their stuffed animals. </li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B3RfgL6BRh4/U_hpCVDqZQI/AAAAAAAATHw/21_oaGCF-uU/s1600/14-OldDeuteronomy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B3RfgL6BRh4/U_hpCVDqZQI/AAAAAAAATHw/21_oaGCF-uU/s1600/14-OldDeuteronomy.JPG" height="382" width="400"></a></div>
<ul>
<li>Seen bilbys, coatis, wombats, guanacos, rhinos, bears and Thai transvestites in the wild. </li>
<li>Sat quietly in the jungle at night, listening to walking, hissing and grunting in the bush around me. </li>
<li>Swam to the airport on Fiji in flooding following a cyclone.</li>
<li>Donated more than a thousand photographies to Wikipedia. </li>
</ul>
Not for a moment have I been bored. Instead, I have always tried to be kind and considerate to others. Never have I had any reason or inclination not to. <br>
<br>
That will have to be enough pep talk for now. Life can be wonderful wherever you spend your days. If it turns out that my next 42 years will to a large extent be filled with activities that I today consider mundane and trivial, I'm pretty sure that they will still bring plenty of excitement. Same same, only different.<br>
<br>
A new report will follow in due time.<br>
<br>
I do not wish for any particular attention on my birthday. Instead, you should enjoy some chocolate, making your day just as splendid as the one I have. <br>
<br>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6imb1pm-KP0/U_hpCzBgpuI/AAAAAAAATH4/dGcTLxTHobw/s1600/99-WordsToLiveBy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6imb1pm-KP0/U_hpCzBgpuI/AAAAAAAATH4/dGcTLxTHobw/s1600/99-WordsToLiveBy.JPG" height="347" width="640"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found on a grave in Ireland. Wisdom.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0nHhtKCq-Fw/U_hpBFdtyUI/AAAAAAAATHo/yEDlLxhO-qI/s1600/13-Apecacheloeft.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3oc4z1kqwg0/U_ho79GPcYI/AAAAAAAATGo/epbNq9jZNqM/s1600/03-konf.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
</a></div>
Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-7846931399275405062014-01-25T13:17:00.003+01:002014-01-25T13:17:28.595+01:00Catching up is a little bit hard to do<br />
You may have noticed that I haven't blogged much lately. The good news is that it's partially because I have been traveling and struggling with an absolutely enormous pile of photos and thoughts. Now I've had just over a month at home, and it's cold and dark outside, so it is finally time to create again. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/nQ_uo8aD3JG9ClJklv2jTB_whgSz4CbB-Gu9X8QVECI=w858-h643-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/nQ_uo8aD3JG9ClJklv2jTB_whgSz4CbB-Gu9X8QVECI=w858-h643-no" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter in Norway - A time for indoor activities and/or outdoor freezing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So where have I been? Well, in May I went to Madeira for a week, surprising my parents who were already there. That went <a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/levada/">quite well</a>. Then summer came, and I spent it traveling around Norway. As you may know, Norway has some of the most beautiful landscapes in the world, and I will try to show you some examples of this in a while. <br /><br />My big trip of 2013 was a six week escapade with my girlfriend through large parts of South America, from October to December. It was a bit of a highlights tour, with Easter Island, Salar de Uyuni and Foz do Iguaçu, but we managed to fit in some additional places of less fame, but plenty of beauty. All in all it was an excellent adventure, and what follows here is my account of the first few days.<br /><br />By the way, if you haven't already discovered that Google+ [https://plus.google.com/] is a great place to follow travelers and photographers, I encourage you to try it out. I'm certainly <a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/115022255980047852195/posts">followable</a> there, with updates and photos published much more often than I get around to do any actual blogging here.<br /><br />So, here goes. Whirlwinding through South America, Part One.<br /><br />We started out by flying to São Paulo. One reason was that it was the cheapest ticket we could find to South America. Another reason was that we are geocachers, and if you don't know what that is, but you're interested in traveling, I'll just wait here while you learn about <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/guide/" target="_blank">something you as a traveler must know</a>.<br />
<br />You see, in the rainforest just a few hundred kilometres west from São Paulo, a very special geocache is hidden. Sure, it's just a box in the wilderness, but it's only been found a hundred or so times in more than a decade. It's the <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/geocache/GCC67_mission-4-southern-bowl" target="_blank">last survivor</a> of a dozen or so "Planet of the Apes" geocaches, and it's in the middle of a nature reserve with lots of amazing animals, birds and insects, so we figured that since we were in South America anyway, we might as well try finding it. (Or, you could argue, my girlfriend decided that since the geocache is in South America, that was where we would have to go. You choose.)<br /><br />Landing in São Paulo is fine, because the airport, Guarulhos, is not in São Paulo at all, but located a safe distance outside it. I really loathe São Paulo, having visited it before. It's incredibly large, street after street after street of huge apartment complexes, inhabited by 17 million people who I'm sure are generally nice individuals, but as a group they tend to feel like a plundering army out to get you. Because many of them are. It has been getting better lately, and not being a drug dealer improves your chances for survival a lot, but there's a lot of petty crime. That's just the way it is.<br /><br />So when we went straight from the airport to a car rental place (Thrifty, easy shuttle service, super-friendly people), I was a bit worried. Each time I have visited Brazil before and observed the traffic, I have congratulated myself on being a bus passenger instead of a driver of a car. As a nation, the chances of dying in the traffic in Brazil is about 8 times larger than in my country, Norway. I didn't really worry about that, though. It's more just that the probability of huge hassles is so large. Either you'll bump into someone, or they will bump into you, and there's going to be a lot of paperwork related to insurance. And then there are the typical road robberies, followed by the boring and frustrating procedure you have to go through to get a new passport and all that.<br />
<br />
<br />Oh, and I should probably mention that I got my driver license in Brønnøysund, my hometown in Northern Norway, where we have no multi-lane roads, no turn-abouts, no traffic lights and no one-way streets. But I have logged a lot of hours in the Grand Theft Auto video games, so I'm definitely qualified for driving anywhere in the world. <br />
<br />
Still, the geocache we were looking for is hidden almost 400 kilometres away from the airport, in a location where no scheduled bus will get you even close to. So a rental car it was. The rental people prayed for us and gave us a semi-automatic to protect ourselves with, and off we went. Semi-automatic car, not gun, of course. And by that I mean that it tended to want to do it's own thing, but we managed to talk sense into it most of the time. <br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://bjornfree.com/blogphotos/saupaulo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://bjornfree.com/blogphotos/saupaulo.jpg" height="295" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driving through São Paulo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The drive from one side of São Paulo to the other was nerve-wrecking. We
drove really fast, and the main road west kept splitting and joining
and not having many signs at all saying what that meant for us. Numerous
motorcyclists weaving their narrow way between the cars just added to
my anxiety. <br /><br />We of course had brought GPS, so we just kept on
going in the right general direction, figuring that this would
eventually lead us where we wanted to go. It worked well enough, and
after a while we could turn onto a toll road. This was bliss. It was
rather expensive, but well worth the money. As a result of the toll,
most Brazilians crowded onto the free and pot-holed alternative, while
we could relax on a wide and almost deserted perfect highway. <br /><br />Eventually
we had to leave the highway, and we entered a small road. We went
through a village, and the road lost its asphalt. Another village, and
the road turned into loose gravel, on which we still had another hour of
increasingly worse road to go. <br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://bjornfree.com/ape/images/DSC02062BrasilErVolkswagen.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://bjornfree.com/ape/images/DSC02062BrasilErVolkswagen.JPG" height="290" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Both of these car models were manufactured in Brazil until very recently.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Our
destination was Intervales State Park, where we had booked a room in a
rustic cabin. It had a shower with reasonably hot water, and we could
drive to a small hamlet 15 minutes away to get food. By sneaking up at
night to the walls of the park ranger office and sit very, very quiet in
the darkness there, listening to a ranger having an amorous
conversation with his girlfriend (and, it could seem, his second and
third girlfriend), while we ignored the sounds of insect feet and
flapping wings, we were even able to steal a faint wifi signal. And with
that, all our basic needs were well catered for.<br /> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://bjornfree.com/ape/images/DSC02100LotsAndLotsOfTrees.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://bjornfree.com/ape/images/DSC02100LotsAndLotsOfTrees.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere in these hills there's a box hidden. Good luck on finding it!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I
can warmly recommend the park to anyone with an interest for nature.
There was plenty to see, touch and be bitten by. Hundreds of species of
birds are present in the park, and you don't even have to do much
walking to see them. Regarding animals, the most exciting possible
sights are probably jaguar and tapir. We saw footprints probably left
behind by both of them, and that was good enough for me. And bugs! Lots
of mostly harmless bugs! More bugs than all my programming colleagues
back home could create in a century. Wear long sleeves and enjoy. <br /><br />As
mentioned, the reason we had come all this way was to grab the last
remaining of the Project Ape geocaches. There's not much I can say about
that without seeming over the hills and far, far away crazy to you
non-cachers out there, so I won't. Suffice it to say that it was an
absolute pleasure to hike through wet rainforest, through dense jungle
and morning mist, and eventually be able to spot a metal container full
of trinkets from many parts of the world and a log book. We came, we
signed and we left.<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://bjornfree.com/ape/images/DSC09479Apecacheloeft.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://bjornfree.com/ape/images/DSC09479Apecacheloeft.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easy find.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
If you decide to go search for this geocache, I wish you the best of luck. Do tell us in the comments below how it went!<br />
<br />
After this triumph, we went back to São Paulo. Only once have I been more relieved than when I could return the apparently undamaged rental car (the trick is to cover all scratches and dents in mud and dust) at Guarulhos Airport, and that was in 2001 when I finally got back to a proper toilet after having walked the Inca Trail for four days in a rather constipated condition. <br />
<br />
Then we flew to Buenos Aires. I'll get back to you about that. In the meantime, you can find more photos and details about my time in Intervales <a href="http://bjornfree.com/ape/index.html">right here</a>.Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-22890056434854826862013-06-09T23:11:00.004+02:002013-06-09T23:11:54.353+02:00My Oslo Photowalk in JuneI began this June by walking through Oslo, on the path down along the river Akerselva, through the city centre and to the Aker Brygge waterfront area. It went so well that I decided to let you accompany me on parts of it, here and now.<br />
<br />
If this inspires you to do your own version of it, do show me how it went!<br />
<br />
The occasion for my amble through Oslo was a "<a href="https://plus.google.com/events/c9ou1j0ouk7u8t3la0nuqu8n33k" target="_blank">photowalk</a>" organized by a Google+ community consisting of Norwegian photographers. The idea is to walk together as a group consisting of all kinds of photographers, ranging from guys barely able to carry all their equipment to others just waving around an iPad. Then you're all free to ask each other questions, point out interesting details, and in general just figure out how to take the photos you always want.<br />
<br />
That's how it typically starts out, anyway. After a while people start helping each other buy beers instead, but I still very much recommend giving photowalks a try!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Rtzcg6qJsCo/UaqBxyXcTCI/AAAAAAAAF-A/V_TsBT-Lmwc/s1600/DSC06793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Rtzcg6qJsCo/UaqBxyXcTCI/AAAAAAAAF-A/V_TsBT-Lmwc/s400/DSC06793.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
The theme for this walk (there's often some sort of competition during events of this kind) was "Communication". I quickly found <b>my</b> theme, a different one, under a bridge in Nydalen. "For moro skyld" means "Just for the fun of it". The only sensible way to relate to photography, as long as you don't have to make your living from it, is to do it just for fun. In my opinion.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6zWrRMPWgKY/UaqCe_DFloI/AAAAAAAAF-Y/N7u8I-OWnlA/s1600/DSC06819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6zWrRMPWgKY/UaqCe_DFloI/AAAAAAAAF-Y/N7u8I-OWnlA/s400/DSC06819.JPG" width="302" /></a></div>
In addition to the herd of photographers walking, there may also be some models coming along, willing to do anything you request, as long as it's not too crazy. "Now run in front of that bus", "Follow the duck", "Buy me an ice cream". That sort of thing.<br />
<br />
It can be an interesting experience if you're not used to directing people to pose. Here's a guy who made a girl freeze her toes off in the river, but I decided that I needed both of them in my photo in order for it to be any good. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iZwfQTbYM9w/UaqCihOHvRI/AAAAAAAAGLk/REWh8dFNzu0/s1600/DSC06826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="322" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iZwfQTbYM9w/UaqCihOHvRI/AAAAAAAAGLk/REWh8dFNzu0/s400/DSC06826.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Although we're in a city, we can still photograph nature. I was just sitting quietly on the ground when these two came waddling towards me. They seemed to try telling me to stop taking photos and bring out some old bread instead. Or something like that. I'm not entirely sure what they said. Ducks can be hard to read.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zcCKK-ZHNdw/UaqDLe4QQ6I/AAAAAAAAF_A/0R86y33NR3E/s1600/DSC06846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zcCKK-ZHNdw/UaqDLe4QQ6I/AAAAAAAAF_A/0R86y33NR3E/s400/DSC06846.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
I found this sticker to be less convincing than it ought to have been. ("Oslo - A cleaner city - With your help".) I don't know what went wrong, but that place in particular didn't look neither clean nor well maintained. Maybe it's a demonstration of what will be the result unless we do our bit and keep things nice. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-khFu-mfXTlw/UaqDZHyQF8I/AAAAAAAAF_g/foPOKd9aI7U/s1600/DSC06848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-khFu-mfXTlw/UaqDZHyQF8I/AAAAAAAAF_g/foPOKd9aI7U/s400/DSC06848.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
This may look like it's from a war memorial or something, but it's actually just a lot of fencing in a small garden along the river. Maybe someone's doing research on which paint lasts the longest or something. The fences seemed to serve no real practical purpose. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uQf3zEMQJgs/UaqDfNMKO8I/AAAAAAAAF_0/kQ-xzNI2MSU/s1600/DSC06851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="516" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uQf3zEMQJgs/UaqDfNMKO8I/AAAAAAAAF_0/kQ-xzNI2MSU/s640/DSC06851.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
This factory factors no more. It was closed down in 1997, but probably looks a lot better now than it did back then. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RrAghpZJU7E/UaqEIyKgSWI/AAAAAAAAGAs/dd_5Iot_1Yk/s1600/DSC06863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RrAghpZJU7E/UaqEIyKgSWI/AAAAAAAAGAs/dd_5Iot_1Yk/s400/DSC06863.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
I don't mind thunder and lightening, especially as long as it stays a kilometer or two away from me. Pretty clouds is a lot more interesting than a dull blue sky. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cKrCOJ0_DgA/UaqEJDkZe2I/AAAAAAAAGAw/aIJAfA-02qI/s1600/DSC06872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cKrCOJ0_DgA/UaqEJDkZe2I/AAAAAAAAGAw/aIJAfA-02qI/s400/DSC06872.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
One of the Herrey Brothers also took a walk along Akerselv on this day. Never heard of them? Forgotten them? Click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTFec_mrD-c" target="_blank">this link</a>. You're welcome, and good luck with getting through the rest of your day. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-55TeLcOr1rM/UaqEU0W0G-I/AAAAAAAAGTE/TVpCrOD04CE/s1600/DSC06879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-55TeLcOr1rM/UaqEU0W0G-I/AAAAAAAAGTE/TVpCrOD04CE/s400/DSC06879.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
The Psalm Maniac in the underpass of Vøyenbrua Bridge seemed to enjoy himself. "Haha, you just run, silly people, God will always catch up with you in the end!" is what he's thinking.
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5tfKm77WQSo/UaqEUD6picI/AAAAAAAAGBE/P_9VsLs-0mY/s1600/DSC06882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5tfKm77WQSo/UaqEUD6picI/AAAAAAAAGBE/P_9VsLs-0mY/s400/DSC06882.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
And then he was back to his usual, sinister self:
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s" id="line_9">"All things sick and cancerous,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s" id="line_10">All evil great and small,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s" id="line_11">All things foul and dangerous,</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">The Lord God made them all"</span></span></div>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13"></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0v1tyaOK47c/UaqEaFYnB7I/AAAAAAAAGNw/Per-lUOm3_I/s1600/DSC06900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0v1tyaOK47c/UaqEaFYnB7I/AAAAAAAAGNw/Per-lUOm3_I/s400/DSC06900.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">I'm not that good at reading tribal tattoos, but I think this must be a Mohican. The hair is a pretty good indicator, but another one is that if you keep on taking a nap on the railing of a small bridge across a raging river, your tribe will soon be down to its last surviving member.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-An_iRIjT2zE/UaqEuJjMF0I/AAAAAAAAGCE/8gRNmib8Tvs/s1600/DSC06912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-An_iRIjT2zE/UaqEuJjMF0I/AAAAAAAAGCE/8gRNmib8Tvs/s640/DSC06912.JPG" width="436" /></a></div>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">Definitely one of the most spectacular crocodiles on offer in Oslo, a block north of the club Blå. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kNoNs92osnM/UaqF3HPAQYI/AAAAAAAAGJY/44mk6qq_npo/s1600/DSC06919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="472" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kNoNs92osnM/UaqF3HPAQYI/AAAAAAAAGJY/44mk6qq_npo/s640/DSC06919.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">I found a bunch of city cats to hang with. I felt even more grey and boring than I usually do. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VRzJ-BzJ-Ss/UaqGJCmCHTI/AAAAAAAAGEI/2CH94UP3dT8/s1600/DSC06954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="322" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VRzJ-BzJ-Ss/UaqGJCmCHTI/AAAAAAAAGEI/2CH94UP3dT8/s400/DSC06954.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">I felt similarly dull outside the Blitz Building as well, where <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Synne-Sanden/65690868591" target="_blank">Synne Sanden</a> gave a concert. Then again, most of the people around me there had probably consumed a lot more magic mushroom than I had. Still, her performance was really good.</span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vx-1KhHK1tc/UaqGJ5RylgI/AAAAAAAAGEM/hk_1VDGx-CM/s1600/DSC06974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vx-1KhHK1tc/UaqGJ5RylgI/AAAAAAAAGEM/hk_1VDGx-CM/s400/DSC06974.JPG" width="338" /></a></div>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">Her fans agreed with me, and they knew all the lyrics. </span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f2XB9C_cMho/UaqGKZdQHTI/AAAAAAAAGEQ/Pr6YdM55wOU/s1600/DSC06979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="392" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f2XB9C_cMho/UaqGKZdQHTI/AAAAAAAAGEQ/Pr6YdM55wOU/s400/DSC06979.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">I don't know what's going on here, but at least one of these two saw something they didn't like, I think. I hope that something wasn't me. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VmZoC6qh8HY/UaqG5oYd0pI/AAAAAAAAGFw/hwi1JiVnLto/s1600/DSC07018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="402" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VmZoC6qh8HY/UaqG5oYd0pI/AAAAAAAAGFw/hwi1JiVnLto/s640/DSC07018.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">Just in case, I escaped into the crowd at Kontraskjæret. The audience almost outnumbered the trash lying around after a long day of concerts there. Morradi was playing, and despite the fact that there were a lot of people smoking, I'm pretty sure there was no nicotine involved. Rappers...</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_geXUVPwLBs/UaqGqNCTM1I/AAAAAAAAGFI/NO2scywMsYM/s1600/DSC07014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_geXUVPwLBs/UaqGqNCTM1I/AAAAAAAAGFI/NO2scywMsYM/s400/DSC07014.JPG" width="386" /></a></div>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">When Morradi ("Your mother") says "Say Yeah!", you say "Yeah!". That's how it's gotta be. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BmOap-zAGzo/UaqHU00nfsI/AAAAAAAAGLU/PXFDlZAjg0s/s1600/DSC07075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BmOap-zAGzo/UaqHU00nfsI/AAAAAAAAGLU/PXFDlZAjg0s/s400/DSC07075.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">After eight hours of walking (and a bit of drinking), we ended the photo expedition on Tjuvholmen. Other people present there had just barely started their evening. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rj1AwNF_X1I/UaqHp0d6IAI/AAAAAAAAGSE/VaKWl7W1L60/s1600/DSC07087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rj1AwNF_X1I/UaqHp0d6IAI/AAAAAAAAGSE/VaKWl7W1L60/s400/DSC07087.JPG" width="398" /></a></div>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">You know it's time to go home when this is how people pose for a final group shot for the day. </span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HZY_AJq92C0/UaqIMeI7QOI/AAAAAAAAGHs/w6mMxHI5ew0/s1600/DSC07115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HZY_AJq92C0/UaqIMeI7QOI/AAAAAAAAGHs/w6mMxHI5ew0/s400/DSC07115.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">And if you have people like this in front of you in the taxi line, you should probably just start walking instead. Aker Brygge has lots of very firm upper class people that really knows how to eat with a knife and a fork. You don't mess with them. </span></span><br />
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13"><br /></span></span>
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">Thank you for coming along! Now it's your turn. Show me <b>your </b>photo walk in a place you know well.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_13">Please! #8D)</span></span>Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-18224364670582155612013-06-02T16:37:00.000+02:002013-06-05T17:36:39.902+02:00Playing my cardsI've tidied up my cluttered desk a bit, uncovering not only travel sickness bags, but a fairly sizeable collection of postcards as well. Some are lying around because I never got to send them, while others are so ugly and bad that I could never make myself put them in the mail. Here are fifteen examples of the latter kind. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rBZS7eSK-xI/UZE99GfOCaI/AAAAAAAAE80/SK95e_QDLVI/s1600/01LosAngeles.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rBZS7eSK-xI/UZE99GfOCaI/AAAAAAAAE80/SK95e_QDLVI/s400/01LosAngeles.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
The Los Angeles card is from 1995, back when year 2000 still was a little bit sexy, and well before digital photography started pushing the standards of how good a postcard photo needed to be. Someone has just positioned themselves at a random spot in LA and taken a photo while leaving the shutter open for 30 seconds or so. Pretty basic stuff, but it was all the rage in the 1990s.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JnuKBhkPAgA/UZE-bJNLCKI/AAAAAAAAE88/4-0cwzhfSug/s1600/02Berlin.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JnuKBhkPAgA/UZE-bJNLCKI/AAAAAAAAE88/4-0cwzhfSug/s400/02Berlin.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Berlin was going through an incredibly intense construction phase during the years between the fall of The Wall and the day the city again was to become the capital of Germany. Half the city centre looked like this, so they just made a postcard of it. I suppose it catered well to the engineer tourists of Germany, at least.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d3R7QAKre4Y/UZE_10BDu4I/AAAAAAAAE9E/rKQfFS18jRQ/s1600/03Montemar.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d3R7QAKre4Y/UZE_10BDu4I/AAAAAAAAE9E/rKQfFS18jRQ/s400/03Montemar.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
So, the owner of Hotel Montemar, probably in Marbella, Terrormolinos, or something like that, was very happy with his establishment, and decided to have a few thousand postcards of it printed. I'm sure at least five or six of them were picked up by inexperienced tourists and sent back to non-judging parents and neighbours. I particularly like the shorts fashion at the time, and the fact that the photographer couldn't be bothered to wait for the moment when there wasn't a car at the right edge of the photo. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lSs2fHU4jOk/UZFBBrAH3gI/AAAAAAAAE9M/vhtXfEPMC-A/s1600/04DeathValleyJunction.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lSs2fHU4jOk/UZFBBrAH3gI/AAAAAAAAE9M/vhtXfEPMC-A/s400/04DeathValleyJunction.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Death
Valley Junction, also known as Amargosa, has around four citizens and doesn't really need its own postcard. Yet they made one. They used to have an opera house as well, but the woman that knew how to sing has now retired, and the place had to close. I think the photographer should follow her lead. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lAS3Si78t9o/UZFCk8kko9I/AAAAAAAAE9U/xYOrW5yy9UY/s1600/05Vatikanet.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lAS3Si78t9o/UZFCk8kko9I/AAAAAAAAE9U/xYOrW5yy9UY/s400/05Vatikanet.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
It is written in Romans 3:10, "None is righteous, no, not one;". To emphasize this, the very narrow selection of official postcard on sale in the Vatican contains this specimen. They've managed to both spell "treasury" wrong, and they've chosen a fairly peculiar image. It's twelve cloned faces looking down towards Jesus who is sailing on his cross somewhere at sea. Strange stuff. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4K-jox9yAB4/UZFDOvTtFzI/AAAAAAAAE9c/B-N_-OOeJBw/s1600/06Sulitjelma.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4K-jox9yAB4/UZFDOvTtFzI/AAAAAAAAE9c/B-N_-OOeJBw/s400/06Sulitjelma.JPG" width="265" /></a></div>
Ah. It's time for an entry from Norway. If this postcard makes you want to visit Sulitjelma in Northern Norway, you may want to have your head examined. You can't walk around in this place, only back and forth on the single road through the village, and you'll probably have to share that road with lots of heavy traffic going to and from the industrial area at the bottom of the photo. Start at the church, and then walk towards the factory until the smog gets too bad, and then run back to where you came from. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9X_XLKlDZPA/UZFDaVkarUI/AAAAAAAAE9k/sHO1fAuTfq8/s1600/07Krokoslange.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9X_XLKlDZPA/UZFDaVkarUI/AAAAAAAAE9k/sHO1fAuTfq8/s400/07Krokoslange.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Everyone loves the Pantanal! They have excellent wildlife, including crocodiles (well, caimans/jacare) and huge anacondas. Generally, as you can see, they are busy killing each other, but they'd love to see some tourists arrive, so that they can have a taste of that as well. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hSILh4nGDro/UZFDm8yv1uI/AAAAAAAAE9s/Fjnj5feH6Hw/s1600/08KenyaCat.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hSILh4nGDro/UZFDm8yv1uI/AAAAAAAAE9s/Fjnj5feH6Hw/s400/08KenyaCat.JPG" width="272" /></a></div>
Of all the beautiful local species they could have chosen to put on a postcard, Kenya chose a cat. They didn't even bother to make paper for the card, instead they just put the postcard straight onto some strange piece of bark. The cat and the text has been etched onto the card using open fire, I think. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9RwklplWbJc/UZFD4JCXaOI/AAAAAAAAE90/vyik33UcrAs/s1600/09Mombasa.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9RwklplWbJc/UZFD4JCXaOI/AAAAAAAAE90/vyik33UcrAs/s400/09Mombasa.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
This card is probably from Mombasa, but from a Mombasa in a different universe and a different time. The city doesn't look like this anymore, but as long as you have postcards left from back when, you still must sell it in the shop, you see. No matter how much damaged folding, direct sun and various stains have added to its surface, of course. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rz7NU6gA-lE/UZFD7t1zxuI/AAAAAAAAE98/VM_UZGuOKXo/s1600/10Tijuana.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rz7NU6gA-lE/UZFD7t1zxuI/AAAAAAAAE98/VM_UZGuOKXo/s400/10Tijuana.JPG" width="248" /></a></div>
Tijuana! The place to go when you want to spend your honeymoon being pulled from bar to bar through the streets by a donkey wearing a hat and painted to resemble a zebra for the day. Just bring your own bulletproof vest, and you'll be fine! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ft3-mlB5Dr4/UZFEArHKqeI/AAAAAAAAE-E/mOtbg2dKCEo/s1600/11Suppe.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ft3-mlB5Dr4/UZFEArHKqeI/AAAAAAAAE-E/mOtbg2dKCEo/s400/11Suppe.JPG" width="258" /></a></div>
Oh, Africa... If there's one thing I have recurring dreams of after going there, it must be the bean soup that just keeps being served while on safari in the Serengeti. That's a nightmare you'll never get rid of, that's for sure! It doesn't even help at all that the soup is being served by a kudu. On the back of the card, they actually have had the nerve to include the recipe! Who on Earth would want that?! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AjEewoPIYXM/UZFEVM80HYI/AAAAAAAAE-M/Gwfl_YO3T5Q/s1600/12Bunader.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AjEewoPIYXM/UZFEVM80HYI/AAAAAAAAE-M/Gwfl_YO3T5Q/s400/12Bunader.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
In the north of Thailand and Vietnam, the locals always put on their nicest traditional dress when they go down to the stream to do the laundry. As if! That girl rightfully looks suspicious at the photographer, probably wondering when she will be paid what she has been promised to pose for this weird photo. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fGtUa9y2DY8/UZFE8OKHXNI/AAAAAAAAE-U/7L8PKuN27-c/s1600/13Afrikadyr.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fGtUa9y2DY8/UZFE8OKHXNI/AAAAAAAAE-U/7L8PKuN27-c/s400/13Afrikadyr.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Another shot of animals in Africa! The photographer wanted to illustrate the wide variety of local species, and used Photoshop to provide it. Either that, or the animals I have encountered have been a less social bunch than these guys are.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KT6ZINpTJN4/UZFFLUMedkI/AAAAAAAAE-c/oE0haXYLnzs/s1600/14Gammelsko.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KT6ZINpTJN4/UZFFLUMedkI/AAAAAAAAE-c/oE0haXYLnzs/s400/14Gammelsko.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Another Norwegian candidate, making it all the way to the second place on my list of horrible postcards. Welcome to Sømna, where you'll find mountains, sunsets, sunrises and... the oldest preserved shoe in the Nordic countries! ("Nordens eldste bevarte sko".) It belonged to old Arnt of the marshland, who in turn had inherited it from his great uncle, Thorvald. Well, not really. They just found it in a bog, and it's estimated to be more than two thousand years old, so let's just assume that it probably is the oldest shoe around from this part of the world. Still, is this really what you would tell the people at home you saw when you went to Norway?<br />
<br />
Oh well. By now you should be prepared for the utterly, utterly ugliest postcard that has turned up during my cleanup here at home: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mjs4xRbKTJM/UZFFc7yoykI/AAAAAAAAE-k/aEyk6MqW_II/s1600/15Tunisia.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mjs4xRbKTJM/UZFFc7yoykI/AAAAAAAAE-k/aEyk6MqW_II/s400/15Tunisia.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
It doesn't really need any comments, but let's try to recreate the thought process behind this masterpiece anyway:<br />
<br />
Ahmed, who is a bit deaf: People keep asking for postcards, we should make one!<br />
Ibrahim: Ok. I've got this photo of a camel. Surely we can use that? <br />
Ahmed: Absolutely, but let's add a woman. Sex sells!<br />
Ibrahim: Fair enough, but don't you have a nicer-looking one? That one looks a bit fruity?<br />
Ahmed: Fruits? Excellent idea! I'll add this basket of fresh fruit <br />
Ibrahim: Errm, ok, but shouldn't she be on a beach instead of on a camel?<br />
Ahmed: YES! We'll add some sea, sun and sand!<br />
Ibrahim: Are you sure one camel is enough?<br />
Ahmed: No, let's add a couple more. Here' I'll draw them. I'll even add my uncle in the front. <br />
Ibrahim: Perfect. Now, finally, we should have some text. Do you know any English?<br />
Ahmed: Not really, but let's use what little I have. "Hello from Tunisia". No room for "Special price". Grrrr.<br />
<br />
That's what I imagine, anyway. Oh dear.<br />
<br />
<br />
I do have lots of pretty postcards as well, but I'll save that for some other time.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-8925384497922923342013-05-08T23:00:00.001+02:002013-05-08T23:00:09.148+02:00Welcome to Gayruba!A country whose Internet domain is .aw should be just cute and cuddly, but when we were picked up at the airport, we weren't sure what to think.<br />
<br />
Just before leaving home, we had hastily booked a seemingly cheap place for an expensive island, without really checking around about it. We knew what it was called. Little David. But it was Francois the Giant, retired marine and current driver of huge, dented pick-up who were there to greet us. Fair enough. Being picked up cost only ten dollars extra, and that's a good deal on Aruba, so you can't be too picky about the vehicle. <br />
<br />
He brought us to a house that has been converted into a five or six room guesthouse, just north of the capital of Aruba, Oranjestad. After negotiating with the resident guarding turtle for a while, we were allowed to enter.<br />
<br />
Checking in takes a while here. It's done thoroughly, and it's just as much about checking you out as you checking in. How many rooms the place has, depends on whether you count the room of the owners, because if you're the right guy, you may get to sleep with them in their room. And that's the cheapest option! (I do suppose that they said this as a joke, but as you'll see, one cannot be sure.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Here are some photos to recreate our introduction to the place. Let me just start out by saying we had no idea what we were in for, but it quickly became evident to us that we were staying somewhere that maybe is best described as a mash-up of a grandmother's living room and a gay porn movie. Which, of course, is something I hadn't really seen before, hence this blog posting.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ow8fFMyHmyA/UYqKTVKTP3I/AAAAAAAAEU4/hI6hbPnOaEU/s1600/01ArubaReligioestInnslag.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ow8fFMyHmyA/UYqKTVKTP3I/AAAAAAAAEU4/hI6hbPnOaEU/s400/01ArubaReligioestInnslag.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
The entrance looks nice enough. There are some cozy angels and kittens and dreamcatchers making sounds in the refreshing wind on the porch. Maybe there's a bit too much Jesus and Maria going on, but I'll be able to hide my atheism for a few days. Oh, and by the way, the password the Internet wifi is "pussycat", in Dutch. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1BNnEPG6cGs/UYqL8TiYhYI/AAAAAAAAEVA/PLZUXB0ZwBI/s1600/02ArubaBakvendtland.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1BNnEPG6cGs/UYqL8TiYhYI/AAAAAAAAEVA/PLZUXB0ZwBI/s400/02ArubaBakvendtland.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Oh, look! A funny little vintage box on the table. It seems like someone is mixing up their sentences, but still, how charming!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JqmOhJ3oCOs/UYqM1LvUUgI/AAAAAAAAEVI/8cUCHVxyD7A/s1600/03ArubaHomsebassenget.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JqmOhJ3oCOs/UYqM1LvUUgI/AAAAAAAAEVI/8cUCHVxyD7A/s400/03ArubaHomsebassenget.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
The pool looks nice as well. "Clothing is of course optional", our guide says. "Uhm... Ok!", we say. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RY6Fcu4JHNg/UYqM4-pdN3I/AAAAAAAAEVQ/nF1UEOPWyFs/s1600/04ArubaMerkeligDusj.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RY6Fcu4JHNg/UYqM4-pdN3I/AAAAAAAAEVQ/nF1UEOPWyFs/s400/04ArubaMerkeligDusj.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Don't tell me you never wanted to be showered by a pig? It's very hygienic to be clean before you enter the pool, especially when clothing is optional. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wPvX3WCubpg/UYqM_SQNQ7I/AAAAAAAAEVY/NO5TorTTMvY/s1600/05ArubaMerkeligHagekunst.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="307" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wPvX3WCubpg/UYqM_SQNQ7I/AAAAAAAAEVY/NO5TorTTMvY/s400/05ArubaMerkeligHagekunst.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
There's a lot of, errr... interesting art on display around the pool. Often combined with rainbows, it seems.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pNN63kdWoXY/UYqNFoi-D5I/AAAAAAAAEVg/Il2xUNO_A-8/s1600/06ArubaTvilsomFlaskeaapner.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pNN63kdWoXY/UYqNFoi-D5I/AAAAAAAAEVg/Il2xUNO_A-8/s400/06ArubaTvilsomFlaskeaapner.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Next to the pool there's a small, but well-equipped kitchen, and we're welcome to use it. If you need, say, a bottle opener, they certainly have got one! I've never seen a bottle opener like this before, but I'm sure it does its job well!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BjFohA-mi5E/UYqNKaUh40I/AAAAAAAAEVo/lqp-Rq65MX0/s1600/07ArubaKjoeleskapmagneter.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BjFohA-mi5E/UYqNKaUh40I/AAAAAAAAEVo/lqp-Rq65MX0/s400/07ArubaKjoeleskapmagneter.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
The owners are no strangers to traveling, themselves. And wherever they go, they buy refrigerator magnets as souvenirs. Let's see, they've been to San Francisco, Las Vegas, San Francisco and... San Francisco! I'm beginning to see a pattern. And it's sort of X-rated. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cCHjp-K_EUs/UYqNTEo4PgI/AAAAAAAAEVw/DpO4SR2mx9g/s1600/08ArubaTvilsomHotellkunst.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="362" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cCHjp-K_EUs/UYqNTEo4PgI/AAAAAAAAEVw/DpO4SR2mx9g/s400/08ArubaTvilsomHotellkunst.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
On a mirror in the hallway, this drawing is hanging, pardon the pun. This is Chris, one of the regulars here. He drew it himself! You like?<br />
<br />
Oh well, that's enough showing around. Now it's time to see our room. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Su_6GW6uGE/UYqNYHLbXBI/AAAAAAAAEV4/cVuap0ahx98/s1600/10ArubaGuttaPaaVeggen.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Su_6GW6uGE/UYqNYHLbXBI/AAAAAAAAEV4/cVuap0ahx98/s400/10ArubaGuttaPaaVeggen.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
This is how one of the walls inside are covered. It appears to be the twelve pool boys here, who work one month each. It's very convenient to have them on the wall next to the bed, so that one can memorize them and then know who works here and who just stays here, when you go outside your room and meet others. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0EteN02vIdQ/UYqNd_PwiwI/AAAAAAAAEWA/QzysfC69N5I/s1600/11ArubaFlereFyrer.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0EteN02vIdQ/UYqNd_PwiwI/AAAAAAAAEWA/QzysfC69N5I/s400/11ArubaFlereFyrer.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
In the bathroom there are a few more young men. They don't work here, but they do add to the decor. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LAUrLmKPiHM/UYqNkmcdz-I/AAAAAAAAEWI/NNsnILgvCzU/s1600/12ArubaIkkeHansOgHennes.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LAUrLmKPiHM/UYqNkmcdz-I/AAAAAAAAEWI/NNsnILgvCzU/s400/12ArubaIkkeHansOgHennes.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
There are bathrobes in the room, his and hers, sorry, his and his. In lovely orange and brown silk. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kw4ERPy_uuk/UYqNpFEGJ6I/AAAAAAAAEWQ/9N2TFv97uqk/s1600/13ArubaHerligToalettalter.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kw4ERPy_uuk/UYqNpFEGJ6I/AAAAAAAAEWQ/9N2TFv97uqk/s400/13ArubaHerligToalettalter.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Behind the toilet we find this shrine to beauty. On the little photo we are reminded how great the snorkeling and diving on Aruba is, and on the big photo, well, there's a naked dude sitting with his legs apart. For a romantic touch, there are candles, a heart on a stick and the smell of roses. Just what you need while taking a shit. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-klq6U3LtD2o/UYqNv2Hoj8I/AAAAAAAAEWY/dsNe6wBHtBs/s1600/14ArubaUtsiktFraDo.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-klq6U3LtD2o/UYqNv2Hoj8I/AAAAAAAAEWY/dsNe6wBHtBs/s400/14ArubaUtsiktFraDo.JPG" width="361" /></a></div>
Also, when you sit on the toilet, this is what you look straight into. If you're not inspired to let go by this, you must be pretty constipated or dehydrated! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2LL_6Td_HRQ/UYqN0YsmVOI/AAAAAAAAEWg/rKtzwAvWHx4/s1600/15ArubaSpeileneIDusjen.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2LL_6Td_HRQ/UYqN0YsmVOI/AAAAAAAAEWg/rKtzwAvWHx4/s400/15ArubaSpeileneIDusjen.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
In the shower there are plenty of mirrors, so if you drop your soap, you'll easily be able to locate it again without having to turn around at all. Oh, and don't mind the camera above you. Ha-ha.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y7i5yrWA_O4/UYqN7J43bEI/AAAAAAAAEWo/25OHTF8euYU/s1600/20ArubaKanadiskRegnbue.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="352" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y7i5yrWA_O4/UYqN7J43bEI/AAAAAAAAEWo/25OHTF8euYU/s400/20ArubaKanadiskRegnbue.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
That's it. We have seen it all now. The place is currenty flying the flag of Canada, in honour of one of the current guests. I don't remember Canada's flag so colourful, but it's probably just something those French fancy-pants Canadians insist on.<br />
<br />
Don't worry. I do understand what kind of place this is, and I loved staying there. Everyone, and they were all single men, were most polite and friendly towards us, despite us being of the heterosexual kind. They even kept their clothes on in the pool when we were around, and the weather was really, really warm! <br />
<br />
<br />
So, if you wish to try a somewhat different, and fairly inexpensive, place to stay on Aruba, I very much recommend the Little David (Gay) Guesthouse. "We're dirty, but we're clean!", as they put it...<br />
<br />Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-22660017673853487612013-05-04T19:36:00.001+02:002016-05-05T00:31:08.737+02:00Passing it onHere's the third and final part of my passport cavalcade, my way of filling the time while I wait for my fourth passport to arrive in the mail.<br />
<br />
This time I will review my passport from 2006. The pages are generously filled, so we'd better get started right away. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nQj44mm8kFw/UYEk7c2HCQI/AAAAAAAAD4g/YLx5ijU8rTA/s1600/H01.Omslag.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nQj44mm8kFw/UYEk7c2HCQI/AAAAAAAAD4g/YLx5ijU8rTA/s400/H01.Omslag.png" width="400" /></a></div>
It is evident that this passport has been around, despite me having kept it in a plastic folder most of the time. This was my first machine-readable passport, as indicated by the little icon at the bottom of the front page.<br />
<br />
On the back I have forgotten to remove a small sticker given to me by a kind man in Kenya. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rCQtc629Kt0/UYElNbqWreI/AAAAAAAAD4w/c-BnhAz_pwI/s1600/H03.Mellomsider.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rCQtc629Kt0/UYElNbqWreI/AAAAAAAAD4w/c-BnhAz_pwI/s400/H03.Mellomsider.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Upon just opening the passport there's little information about me yet. Instead we get an introduction to archaic Norwegian symbol art. Inside one of the hexagons there is a microchip with information about me. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/3u04Fh7WWVPvNAUgqdl8nez02nE1D3vU9EPnM9QdRBPhask5mL3fl8RL4xBX_naJ9zDwaL3vs60_4GA4bbOA1QcUmISCzrS3LwNb5joQL5hNYgpv3i_wcZvMlCjRBR8RxtoiPcy8hY4t1Qzn1b04zbAdN7vXldI0Dqrm4PbI3maemqZf7keDsS7mEz6OAZdfFgYwoOq593KKwD0cEcVZc9jmkVuKZkMacouvA-F1wPeiKzFT0tsEi9ZhRCj75x3BnzcRCiwqRZIemSU7EO5WgKcYC-tIDeBmAKNVRIb1yAfa38LsnbwVm9ZXAYmG4wyRTqDA5g3tJWucnabO7t2r9vMnzZhKjTbIZc7_uNrT4qdodepCbl9bnkY8c5WoHNIEVfQnuxNFRe_hmQhcn6jKOjLGqdd4ROfpmRl3AedQYAfk4uM9uWQFy8uL0-rwj9dSwM04eN_rXJ6ZBHc9Z8bKRc252qB_fQOecJvYIugH4BcXMb0WXSyY2tMKZrAgzhmW-G2rcLkFnJix8r1LRGU7fX4o2EsK-RCA_HMvEox737CNbCv__ZdyYd2E731LRYRCSJCgGk_qUldVOhlKirdzYftGnR65yKwi=w1173-h828-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/3u04Fh7WWVPvNAUgqdl8nez02nE1D3vU9EPnM9QdRBPhask5mL3fl8RL4xBX_naJ9zDwaL3vs60_4GA4bbOA1QcUmISCzrS3LwNb5joQL5hNYgpv3i_wcZvMlCjRBR8RxtoiPcy8hY4t1Qzn1b04zbAdN7vXldI0Dqrm4PbI3maemqZf7keDsS7mEz6OAZdfFgYwoOq593KKwD0cEcVZc9jmkVuKZkMacouvA-F1wPeiKzFT0tsEi9ZhRCj75x3BnzcRCiwqRZIemSU7EO5WgKcYC-tIDeBmAKNVRIb1yAfa38LsnbwVm9ZXAYmG4wyRTqDA5g3tJWucnabO7t2r9vMnzZhKjTbIZc7_uNrT4qdodepCbl9bnkY8c5WoHNIEVfQnuxNFRe_hmQhcn6jKOjLGqdd4ROfpmRl3AedQYAfk4uM9uWQFy8uL0-rwj9dSwM04eN_rXJ6ZBHc9Z8bKRc252qB_fQOecJvYIugH4BcXMb0WXSyY2tMKZrAgzhmW-G2rcLkFnJix8r1LRGU7fX4o2EsK-RCA_HMvEox737CNbCv__ZdyYd2E731LRYRCSJCgGk_qUldVOhlKirdzYftGnR65yKwi=w1173-h828-no" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Generally the same information as could be found in my previous passport, except that this time there appears to be a need to emphasize that I am of the male gender. Also new, a few holograms to make the passport fancier and more expensive to make.<br />
<br />
I don't know what witchcraft they have used in the signature field in order to mess up the scanning of this page, but it's probably well done and a great idea. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HB8Nl_I4HRQ/UYElQbp6IiI/AAAAAAAAD44/_1FBwOxawMs/s1600/H04.Side2-3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HB8Nl_I4HRQ/UYElQbp6IiI/AAAAAAAAD44/_1FBwOxawMs/s400/H04.Side2-3.png" width="400" /></a></div>
For some reason, page 2 has never been bothered by anyone, but on page 3 we get to the action.<br />
<br />
I was going to The Gambia on a cheap fixed-dates ticket for two weeks, and I figured that was too much time for such a small country. So I went to the consulate general of Senegal in Norway and got a visa for that as well. The Gambia is just about entirely surrounded by Senegal, so it was the obvious choice for an add-on trip.<br />
<br />
This turned out to be a smart move. In The Gambia I just got on buses by random, and one of the times I did that, I discovered that when I got off the bus again, everyone there spoke French instead of English. I had crossed a border during the bus ride, without really knowing it. I was in Senegal.<br />
<br />
Now, I loved being in a new country, but my passport contained no information about me leaving The Gambia or entering Senegal. That can be a huge problem anywhere in the world, and in Africa in particular, it can be an expensive problem.<br />
<br />
So I did the obvious thing. I bought a few potatoes and set about to make a stamp. I got a guy in my hotel in Casamance to write a note that said, I hope, that I had officially passed into Senegal, and I stamped it. In addition I put the name of the border crossing I assumed I should have used, and an incomprehensible signature, next to the visa in my passport.<br />
<br />
It worked! Thank gods for silly countries that haven't gotten to the age of computers yet!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6dXnUbqSlyw/UYElZSE2teI/AAAAAAAAD5E/r9nQkMIqRvM/s1600/H05.Side4-5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6dXnUbqSlyw/UYElZSE2teI/AAAAAAAAD5E/r9nQkMIqRvM/s400/H05.Side4-5.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Here you can see that I have both entered and exited The Gambia. I had to glue this page closed when I arrived to The Gambia for the second time, from Senegal, without having left The Gambia properly first. Doing that prevented the border control in The Gambia from checking whether I had been to Gambia before, or whether I still was there, so to speak.<br />
<br />
In addition, page 4 says that I have traveled between South Africa and Lesotho across the dramatic Sani Pass. Google that if you want to see some photos of a scary and steep road in otherwise excellent surrounding.<br />
<br />
<br />
On the next page I have returned to South Africa and left it again, and I have entered Australia safely through Perth, on the very western end of that continent. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rk7YoVuCsgo/UYElfIEMjvI/AAAAAAAAD5M/n1X8FhRfJFk/s1600/H06.Side6-7.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rk7YoVuCsgo/UYElfIEMjvI/AAAAAAAAD5M/n1X8FhRfJFk/s400/H06.Side6-7.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Do you like my visa to India? Type TV means tourist visa, not transvestite.<br />
<br />
In addition to that one, we see two oval stamps related to it, entering and exciting the subcontinent through Goa. There's also an exit from Sydney, Australia, and a visit to Guatemala. Three contintents on that page. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HnpOTcgjO-c/UYEllImhQWI/AAAAAAAAD5U/sDHZIR9-HvQ/s1600/H07.Side8-9.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HnpOTcgjO-c/UYEllImhQWI/AAAAAAAAD5U/sDHZIR9-HvQ/s400/H07.Side8-9.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Here are some more Guatemala, plus Mexico stamps from the same trip, as well as a South African exit.<br />
<br />
To the right, the tiny country of Belize contributes two geometrical stamps, and I have been to Swaziland and Singapore. I don't really remembre what that Gambia thing is. I suspect it may be a test stamp from when I struggled with the potatoes. It doesn't look better than what I was able to create, at least.<br />
<br />
If we count the potato, there are four continents on that page!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NL9tLPm_gsQ/UYElsgdCHHI/AAAAAAAAD5c/F4li9HHwklo/s1600/H08.Side10-11.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NL9tLPm_gsQ/UYElsgdCHHI/AAAAAAAAD5c/F4li9HHwklo/s400/H08.Side10-11.png" width="400" /></a></div>
We're back to the Senegal story. After a lot of grumbling and suspicious looks, the border control officer in Senegal agreed to stamp me out of the country, albeit upside-down. I wavered between trying to sneak into The Gambia or to just enter it while trying to hide my previous entrance. In the end I decided to take the smallest risk, so I got my second Gambia entrance stamp.<br />
<br />
When I later left Gambia, I first got an exit stamp for my first entrance. Then I was sort of all clear, but I still decided to sneak into the country again. This is not as hard as you may imagine. Then I got another exit stamp, for my second official entrance. So now I think I'm all set to return some day, no worries. Especially since I'm getting a new passport before that. :)<br />
<br />
At the bottom left there's an exit from Johannesburg, South Africa.<br />
<br />
To the right I have entered and left Brasil, possibly through Recife. Another cheap last minute ticket.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pej8ONY34nE/UYElx0-fpaI/AAAAAAAAD5k/PGm9krrFMZg/s1600/H09.Side12-13.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pej8ONY34nE/UYElx0-fpaI/AAAAAAAAD5k/PGm9krrFMZg/s400/H09.Side12-13.png" width="400" /></a></div>
These two pages are almost all Mozambique. They love formalities and big documents there! I was delighted to discover that I entered the country through the Namaacha border post. I remember that when I was a child and there was something about the war in Mozambique, the reporters were always signing in from the Nama Atchoo province, as I remembered it. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--rFSVbNtNhY/UYEl3-oRODI/AAAAAAAAD5s/6XkE2YkPXSc/s1600/H10.Side14-15.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/--rFSVbNtNhY/UYEl3-oRODI/AAAAAAAAD5s/6XkE2YkPXSc/s400/H10.Side14-15.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Another tour of the Yucatan Peninsula to the left (Mexico and Belize here, Guatemala will shortly show up again). To the right there's a quick visit to Jordan, where I mainly just wanted to see Petra properly. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R_e7u9pqQKY/UYEmA4MfZjI/AAAAAAAAD50/zvxzqUa_-Gs/s1600/H11.Side16-17.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R_e7u9pqQKY/UYEmA4MfZjI/AAAAAAAAD50/zvxzqUa_-Gs/s400/H11.Side16-17.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Turkey sells visas at all their international airports, and I assume they make good money from selling tiny stamps for 20 dollars a piece. It didn't seem like any checks or work were performed at all, so it's just a tourist tax, really.<br />
<br />
Then there's an exit from Kenya, and an entrance and an exit for both Guatemala and Belize. If you're going from Cancun in Mexico to Tikal, you're almost bound to do so by going via Belize. Even though you're just spending a few hours there and you don't stop anywhere, you still have to pay the full entrance fee every time you enter Belize, even if you're extreme and do it twice in one day. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UXixKaFjedc/UYEmF2H5hlI/AAAAAAAAD58/q_obV45u5II/s1600/H12.Side18-19.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UXixKaFjedc/UYEmF2H5hlI/AAAAAAAAD58/q_obV45u5II/s400/H12.Side18-19.png" width="400" /></a></div>
I've been to India once again, this time to see the Himalaya foothills, the Taj Mahal and a few other amazing sights. I chose a multiple entry visa this time, just in case, because it turned out to cost the same. I could have returned anytime "for free" during the next six months that way. <br />
<br />
To the right there's another visit to Turkey. I wasn't in Antalya or Marmaris, no matter what you think. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IF4iAUJTMIs/UYEmNLVDscI/AAAAAAAAD6I/TQXFM4_2N2s/s1600/H13.Side20-21.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IF4iAUJTMIs/UYEmNLVDscI/AAAAAAAAD6I/TQXFM4_2N2s/s400/H13.Side20-21.png" width="400" /></a></div>
On the left and top right you can see the traces of a tour through South-East Asia. I flew cheaply to Thailand and immediately bussed out of there through Malaysia and Singapore, flying back to Phuket, Thailand to return home. It was a good trip, with Malacca and the Cameron Highlands as the highlights. Interesting bar code thingy in the Malaysian stamp.<br />
<br />
Beneath the Thailand stamps is an entrance to Tanzania, accompanied by some mysterious notes. It may relate to the officer searching for a while to establish that Norwegians must pay 50 dollars to be allowed into his counry. In the bottom right I have visited Curacao.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0zQ1Jmz9RlU/UYEmSvVuIFI/AAAAAAAAD6Q/CANh2Idmpns/s1600/H14.Side22-23.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0zQ1Jmz9RlU/UYEmSvVuIFI/AAAAAAAAD6Q/CANh2Idmpns/s400/H14.Side22-23.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ooooh. Kenya have such fancy visas, this one prescribed to mister Christian.<br />
<br />
On the right there's an entrance to the flamingo country of Bonaire. Although it's in the Caribbean, it's really part of the Netherlands, so that's why it looks like an EU stamp. I've also exited Tanzania, and there's a three day visit to Qatar on the far right. That's more than enough for Qatar. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7jyd6cQiodM/UYEmYecWB0I/AAAAAAAAD6Y/jIqMwyIL96s/s1600/H15.Side24-25.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7jyd6cQiodM/UYEmYecWB0I/AAAAAAAAD6Y/jIqMwyIL96s/s400/H15.Side24-25.png" width="400" /></a></div>
A collection of Stamps from the ABC islands, Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao, the main part of the former colony/semi-country called The Dutch Antilles. Very tourist-friendly stamps, they are.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JIj0UywULco/UYEmiuThj9I/AAAAAAAAD6k/q5FEwQHYq2o/s1600/H16.Side26-27.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JIj0UywULco/UYEmiuThj9I/AAAAAAAAD6k/q5FEwQHYq2o/s400/H16.Side26-27.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Checking in to and out of the Cape Verde island of Boa Vista is very cozy. The actual border control takes place in open air at the airport, before you collect your luggage. There's a real risk you can get a sunburn before you even enter the country! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zLGXm67CGns/UYEmjoR3tJI/AAAAAAAAD6o/ns04oRszZ9I/s1600/H17.Side28-29.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zLGXm67CGns/UYEmjoR3tJI/AAAAAAAAD6o/ns04oRszZ9I/s400/H17.Side28-29.png" width="400" /></a></div>
A stamp from the USA, granted to me as I began on a thorough excursion to the theme parks of the Orlando area in Florida, with a heavy emphasis on the Disney parks. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FsKCGDlZ51k/UYEmq3UwQNI/AAAAAAAAD60/IaKnwxjfoho/s1600/H18.Side30-31.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FsKCGDlZ51k/UYEmq3UwQNI/AAAAAAAAD60/IaKnwxjfoho/s400/H18.Side30-31.png" width="400" /></a></div>
A tour of Morocco and Western Sahara. Unfortunately, Western Sahara is currently occupied by Morocco, so I didn't get any stamps there. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--NNU2yrY294/UYEmvYSvU_I/AAAAAAAAD68/WObPsE7DKGM/s1600/H19.Sisteside.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/--NNU2yrY294/UYEmvYSvU_I/AAAAAAAAD68/WObPsE7DKGM/s320/H19.Sisteside.png" width="320" /></a></div>
No stamps on the final page of my passport, but we should dwell upon a couple of misspellings in the passport information to the right. How embarrassing!<br />
<br />
(Mistakes: "inne haveren" instead of "innehaveren" and "intresse" instead of "interesse".)<br />
<br />
So there you have it. Now I'm completely done with my old passports, and I'm more than ready to receive a new one! <br />
<br />
(I'll soon be back with some photos from my recent trip to the Caribbean.)Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-26930081973157637012013-05-02T00:48:00.001+02:002016-08-01T09:26:32.963+02:00Passionably lateI got my second passport in 1999. By then the passport issuers in Norway must have recruited some new talent, because now the document didn't look like something anyone with a laser printer and a stapler at home could create in a couple of hours. <br />
<br />
At least the passport looked okay when I got it. After I had used it for seven years, it looks, at least from the outside, more like something someone has forgotten to remove from the pants before putting it in the laundry. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-cEcIOcbgk/UYEjGNya7cI/AAAAAAAAD2I/s5l0g9L3xrw/s1600/H01.Omslag.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-cEcIOcbgk/UYEjGNya7cI/AAAAAAAAD2I/s5l0g9L3xrw/s400/H01.Omslag.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Inside, however, everything is nice and dandy. Possibly apart from the hairdo. But, hey, it's a passport photo. They're supposed to look that way. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v_kuA8Pkbq8/V575DtoIJGI/AAAAAAAAZv4/AbBEVKXS38webkXjgMPgz5jW3UEw7xqMQCPcB/s1600/photopage2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v_kuA8Pkbq8/V575DtoIJGI/AAAAAAAAZv4/AbBEVKXS38webkXjgMPgz5jW3UEw7xqMQCPcB/s400/photopage2.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Since my previous passport I have changed my place of birth from the specific town of Finnsnes to the larger county of Lenvik. I don't know why. Also, my passport now shows my national identitynumber, although I have removed it from this snapshot, because this is, after all, the Internet. It's not really a secret ID, but there's still no point in showing it around too much.<br />
<br />
Although the person owning this passport hasn't turned into a grown-up since the last passport, at least the signature has changed a bit in a mature direction. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O5vJU7U8cMA/UYEjZl1gogI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/eTbPymPW02c/s1600/H03.Side2-3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O5vJU7U8cMA/UYEjZl1gogI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/eTbPymPW02c/s400/H03.Side2-3.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Learning from their errors, the guys in charge of making passports have wisely chosen to not include French or German translations of the phrases this time around. Now there's only Norwegian, New Norwegian and English to be found.<br />
<br />
The order of the stamps in this passport is even more random than in my previous passport. On this first page, I have entered the USA. Some other time, much later, a dimwit at the gates of Egypt has tried to cover up my visit to the US. Not only has he stamped the page with heavy, black ink. He has even donated half his stamp collection to wipe out my history of American pilgrimage. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d6Mja7Z3_70/UYEjbNqI85I/AAAAAAAAD2g/XxthnPRAe94/s1600/H04.Side4-5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d6Mja7Z3_70/UYEjbNqI85I/AAAAAAAAD2g/XxthnPRAe94/s400/H04.Side4-5.png" width="400" /></a></div>
In January 2001 I traveled via the Charles de Gaulle airport in France, if page 4 is to be believed. I think I was on my way to South America and Antarctica. Then, four years later, I went to Brazil to celebrate the carnival and to look for strange ants.<br />
<br />
Page 5 is a journey to Thailand via Switzerland. Also, I'm popping by Botswana and entering Argentina. This single page in my passport has stamps from four different continents!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J1i7djpag6E/UYEjja-nw2I/AAAAAAAAD2o/Gujz7vRp8ek/s1600/H05.Side6-7.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J1i7djpag6E/UYEjja-nw2I/AAAAAAAAD2o/Gujz7vRp8ek/s400/H05.Side6-7.png" width="400" /></a></div>
When you travel in Patagonia, this is likely to happen. Most of your time is spent crossing the border between Chile and Argentina, depending on where a passable road can be found through the narrowest and most mountainous part of South America. The result: Lots and lots of stamps in your passport. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--hxEExQjKuM/UYEjuLRBVpI/AAAAAAAAD20/652S97aAkWA/s1600/H06.Side8-9.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--hxEExQjKuM/UYEjuLRBVpI/AAAAAAAAD20/652S97aAkWA/s400/H06.Side8-9.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Haha! A silly tourist stamp from the town of Ushuaia on Tierra del Fuego, Fireland. Unfortunately I got the "End of the World" version, but I know there's a much funnier "Bottom of the World" version to be found as well. <br />
<br />
In addition to that, the madness of numerous border crossings between Chile and Argentina continues. Also, the USA has added another stamp from one time when I went to San Francisco to for an IT conference.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mzX72x95WIw/UYEjuiWrGfI/AAAAAAAAD24/a3nSmUXSAcM/s1600/H07.Side10-11.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mzX72x95WIw/UYEjuiWrGfI/AAAAAAAAD24/a3nSmUXSAcM/s400/H07.Side10-11.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Another peculiar mix. Here are some stamps from various Argentinian and Ukrainian research stations in the Antarctica, plus a mini visit to Mexico (tittillating Tijuana) and Swaziland. It's a fairly atypical travel pattern, I think. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-efVXWOGB6H4/UYEj1LSMWaI/AAAAAAAAD3E/1GEu5djIeVc/s1600/H08.Side12-13.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-efVXWOGB6H4/UYEj1LSMWaI/AAAAAAAAD3E/1GEu5djIeVc/s400/H08.Side12-13.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Again the US imperialists try to occupy a full two pages during a single entry to the country (to Florida via Chicago this time). Fortunately none of the other countries seem to care about the attempt.<br />
<br />
Then there are some more Chile stamps, a visit to Botswana and then actually two stamps from Norway (Sandefjord and Gardermoen)! This is from back when I was young and cute enough to be able to cry my way to stampings upon returning to Norway. They generally don't do that any more, unless you're a suspicious foreigner and/or tanned. I don't remember the occasion for the Gardermoen visit, but I did travel with Ryanair to and from Sandefjord to go on a three week railway trip all over Great Britain. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VPuMLRDNISw/UYEkBcu2B1I/AAAAAAAAD3M/4PJ2hPcf06Q/s1600/H09.Side14-15.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VPuMLRDNISw/UYEkBcu2B1I/AAAAAAAAD3M/4PJ2hPcf06Q/s400/H09.Side14-15.png" width="400" /></a></div>
The third middle-of-the-page stamp from the USA! Is this something they do on purpose?! This time I was on my way to a roadtrip through Texas with my parents. Fortunately, no one checked my mother's bag when we landed in Chicago. It was full of bananas. Big mistake, if you're caught! We quickly ate the evidence when we arrived at the hotel and deposited the dangerous peel in a safe way.<br />
<br />
Apart from that, there are a few stamps from Namibia and Zimbabwe, as well as a one day permit for going into Zambia to enjoy the view of the Victoria Falls from their side of the border. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fEavsbKiHhs/UYEkCbG19LI/AAAAAAAAD3Q/JWEN0SEJTdA/s1600/H10.Side16-17.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fEavsbKiHhs/UYEkCbG19LI/AAAAAAAAD3Q/JWEN0SEJTdA/s400/H10.Side16-17.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Here's another batch of African stamps. I collected them on an overland trip starting in Cape Town, South Africa and ending in Johannesburg, South Africa, after traveling through not just that country, but Swaziland, Botswana and Namibia, including a short jaunt into Zimbabwe/Zambia for the Vic Falls. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-15y8xSFqcF0/UYEkF5X_4eI/AAAAAAAAD3c/y9MPv-MKtGA/s1600/H11.Side18-19.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-15y8xSFqcF0/UYEkF5X_4eI/AAAAAAAAD3c/y9MPv-MKtGA/s400/H11.Side18-19.png" width="400" /></a></div>
The Egyptian stamp collector strikes again! Plus I've been on a whirlwind tour of Croatia (six different places to sleep in seven nights). <br />
<br />
I've also gone on another quick trip across the border to Mexico, from Texas, on 2 April 2003, accompanying two slightly nervous parents. And finally I found space for another trip to Brazil. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wdjma-b2_Ig/UYEkTTO3a4I/AAAAAAAAD3k/vS0E5iH00os/s1600/H12.Side20-21.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wdjma-b2_Ig/UYEkTTO3a4I/AAAAAAAAD3k/vS0E5iH00os/s400/H12.Side20-21.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Hooray! I got a visa to Russia, although it took quite a while to arrange. It looks as if they think my name is B9ern Hristian Terrissen, so I can really understand why they were reluctant to let me visit. With a name like that, even I would be worried about having the person come by. It was a weird, but somehow still pleasant trip. I took a plane to Vladivostok in Far Eastern Russia, and then I spent a month traveling mostly by train , making lots of stops, back to Moscow, along the route of the Transsiberian Railway. <br />
<br />
On page 21 there's a flight via Frankfurt, Germany, but the more interesting bit are various border crossings by train. I traveled through Eastern Europe in 2005, when several of the countries had not yet joined any EU border agreements. I think these stamps are from crossing between Hungary and Romania. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BfD9uxuBnGk/UYEkU6gyNFI/AAAAAAAAD3o/9edluNdvhkk/s1600/H13.Side22-23.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BfD9uxuBnGk/UYEkU6gyNFI/AAAAAAAAD3o/9edluNdvhkk/s400/H13.Side22-23.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Before Christmas in 2005, I took a tour of South-East Asia. I flew into Bangkok, Thailand and quickly moved on to Siem Reap, Cambodia, followed by a banana-shaped trip up Vietnam and back to Bangkok. There's a small Angkor Wat in my Cambodia stamp! <br />
<br />
To the right you can see proof of the rare occasion when someone voluntarily visits Moldova. To enter the country, I had to spent quite a bit of time on the border explaining in Russian English that yes, I really actually wanted to go there, while a busload of passengers patiently waited for me to succeed. To be allowed to continue to Transdniestr, I even had to pay a bribe or two. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lsfsmvBbYqU/UYEkWSbd-9I/AAAAAAAAD30/lRFwmNwz4_c/s1600/H14.Side24-25.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lsfsmvBbYqU/UYEkWSbd-9I/AAAAAAAAD30/lRFwmNwz4_c/s400/H14.Side24-25.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Yay! Another tour of Brazil! This time I traveled in the north-east, enjoying the sand landscapes of beaches and deserts.<br />
<br />
And then there's the lovely visa to Cambodia. I got it upon arrival at the Siem Reap airport. A well-groomed line of uniformed officers with Lego hairdos efficiently issued it, all participating eagerly in registering and handling me. I'd love to see the photo they took of me, using a 320x320 pixel Webcam from Logitech. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iar7xTifn50/UYEkkOyhs_I/AAAAAAAAD38/hebfpdopb-o/s1600/H15.Side26-27.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iar7xTifn50/UYEkkOyhs_I/AAAAAAAAD38/hebfpdopb-o/s400/H15.Side26-27.png" width="400" /></a></div>
More South-East Asia, this time with Vietnam doing its best to impress. I wasn't really required to get a visa in my passport, because Scandinavians visiting for two weeks or less are welcome without any paperwork. Still, the consul general in Sihanoukville, Cambodia was so semi-drunk and charming that I gladly handed over 10 dollars to get this piece of paper in my passport.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z7ARakaNLcA/UYEkm6IafuI/AAAAAAAAD4E/pEI3Keof9vY/s1600/H16.Side28-29.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z7ARakaNLcA/UYEkm6IafuI/AAAAAAAAD4E/pEI3Keof9vY/s400/H16.Side28-29.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Hm. It appears that I have visited Tunisia. I think...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8cXMUEiJMwA/UYEkoc9MSAI/AAAAAAAAD4M/vb53sP6Y08Q/s1600/H17.Sisteside.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8cXMUEiJMwA/UYEkoc9MSAI/AAAAAAAAD4M/vb53sP6Y08Q/s400/H17.Sisteside.png" width="400" /></a></div>
There you go. My passport number two as it lived and died.<br />
<br />
Now there's only one passport left for me to show off! :)Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-26166385275051107512013-05-01T19:23:00.000+02:002013-05-01T19:23:18.385+02:00Passing timeThe other day I discovered that my current passport was, for all practical purposes, full. So I went to the police station to get a new one, and now I'm waiting for it to arrive. In the meantime, I'm stuck in Norway...<br />
<br />
My passport number four will arrive in the mail in a few days. Until then I can only sit at home and read, blog and go for walks. I've finished today's walk, so here's a bit of blog for you. <br />
<br />
It's about my first passport. It may not have much interest to others than myself, but here it is.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ADDGKyhKGj0/UYEh1P12tiI/AAAAAAAAD0w/BFLi85m6dW4/s1600/H01.Omslag.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ADDGKyhKGj0/UYEh1P12tiI/AAAAAAAAD0w/BFLi85m6dW4/s400/H01.Omslag.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
That's what it looks like today. The poor thing. There's no reason to criticize it. Try traveling around the world and swim through flood water following a cyclone in Fiji, and see what that does to you. I guess you too would look a bit worn out after that. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kVvJY2y5RLs/UYEh0TJ9ZeI/AAAAAAAAD0s/crjwEheLZpI/s1600/H02.Tittelside.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kVvJY2y5RLs/UYEh0TJ9ZeI/AAAAAAAAD0s/crjwEheLZpI/s400/H02.Tittelside.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Inside the passport I'm quickly introduced. There's no national ID number or anything. There's only one Bjørn Christian Tørrissen from Norway, so there's no need for it. <br />
<br />
It's mentioned that abusing the passport is illegal and punishable. I wish they would mention a few suggestions for how one can abuse a passport.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kXwBGgtx8cE/UYEh3RWB0II/AAAAAAAAD08/3E_wzWkHy6Y/s1600/H03.Beskrivelsesside.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kXwBGgtx8cE/UYEh3RWB0II/AAAAAAAAD08/3E_wzWkHy6Y/s400/H03.Beskrivelsesside.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I was in high school when I got my passport, but as I moved to attend the university in Trondheim, I upgraded my profession from "pupil" to "student". Oh, the vanity! <br />
<br />
Apparently I was "dark blond" when I was young! If so, that's only because Norwegian by definition have to be fair-haired. And for some reason, I did NOT have any "special peculiarities". Harrumpf! I'm left-handed, AND I was/am a pretty skilled Minesweeper player! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fx-StGKqoOs/UYEiWhMuTaI/AAAAAAAAD1I/AewYZ3iG6bI/s1600/H04.Bildeside.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fx-StGKqoOs/UYEiWhMuTaI/AAAAAAAAD1I/AewYZ3iG6bI/s400/H04.Bildeside.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ah... The passport photo. Always so flattering. The photo in particular, shows me wearing a nicely patterned sweater, I'm smiling with my mouth open, the photo is taken not straight from the front and my face covers less than 25 percent of the photo. This would never be accepted as a passport photo these days.<br />
<br />
Oh, and we forgot to include my fingerprint. Details, details. :)<br />
<br />
I love how the passport is valid in all countries, with no exceptions. I just wonder what kind of exceptions anyone would ever have in a passport? "This man is a recovering alcoholic, and must not under any circumstances be allowed to enter Ireland or Russia!"?<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FyqpGpFGHrs/UYEicYetqcI/AAAAAAAAD1Q/d0tzC9tGmg4/s1600/H05.Bevitnelsesside.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FyqpGpFGHrs/UYEicYetqcI/AAAAAAAAD1Q/d0tzC9tGmg4/s400/H05.Bevitnelsesside.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Finally, we can see why there's no need for a national ID number. This passport simply claims that the carrier of the passport is the very same person as the one depicted on the photo. That should do it. <br />
<br />
(I'm almost ignoring the fact that the authorities have managed to misspell the German word "bescheinigt".)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-69UwA28rAxI/UYEijHFf8NI/AAAAAAAAD1Y/nhq6P0RFHMA/s1600/H06.Side8-9.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-69UwA28rAxI/UYEijHFf8NI/AAAAAAAAD1Y/nhq6P0RFHMA/s400/H06.Side8-9.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Most immigration officers will completely ignore the advice about adding visas and stamps in a chronological order. We can see this already on the first page.<br />
<br />
My first stamp was collected when I entered the USA at the right here on 23 July 1995, well in advance of the Australia visit to the left. I was traveling more or less at random from the east coast to the west coast on a Greyhound pass, as a prelude to a school excursion to California. <br />
<br />
<br />
The three other stamps are Australian ones. The visa to the left I had to send my passport to the Australian embassy in Stockholm, Sweden, to get. On a six-months long trip around the planet I entered Australia through Darwin on New Year's Eve 1996, following a Christmas in Bali. Six weeks and thousands of bus kilometres later I left the country from Brisbane. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_uTvLDouHLY/UYEin6AVzFI/AAAAAAAAD1g/dNtxKjjEWUQ/s1600/H07.Side10-11.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_uTvLDouHLY/UYEin6AVzFI/AAAAAAAAD1g/dNtxKjjEWUQ/s400/H07.Side10-11.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Pages 10 and 11 are all about Nepal. I got my visa in no time straight from the consulate general, a rich man who took pity on me when I showed up at his office early on the same day that I was leaving Norway. <br />
<br />
When I arrived in Nepal, I discovered that they had pretty steep mountains there, so I had to extend the visa (the right-side, sideways thing) with a week to be able to get uphill and back down completely. It didn't cost much money, but I spent quite a few hours in a queue to get it. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qvtD8gz_-bM/UYEirzBX0hI/AAAAAAAAD1o/6KANZ-XNXRk/s1600/H08.Side12-13.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qvtD8gz_-bM/UYEirzBX0hI/AAAAAAAAD1o/6KANZ-XNXRk/s400/H08.Side12-13.png" width="400" /></a></div>
From Nepal I continued to Thailand. Four days before my visa there expired, I moved on to Malaysia. Two weeks of that seems to have been enough for me, as indicated by the Singapore visa here. <br />
<br />
On page 13 I fly to Jakarta and Indonesia. Because they left lots of empty space on the page, the Fiji immigration control three months later hastily decided to stamp me out of their country on this same page. I suspect that this was partially because they were eager to get rid of me. I was all wet and smelly after having swam, using my backpack as a raft, to the airport through brown and muddy flood water. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EN_d6Rmx8Zs/UYEiugPnE0I/AAAAAAAAD1w/KruI6FHS6jY/s1600/H09.Side14-15.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EN_d6Rmx8Zs/UYEiugPnE0I/AAAAAAAAD1w/KruI6FHS6jY/s400/H09.Side14-15.png" width="400" /></a></div>
The airplane from Fiji evacuated me to Los Angeles. If they had told me at check-in that the plane was stopping in Honolulu for fueling, I probably would have gotten off there. But they didn't.<br />
<br />
<br />
Before I arrived in Fiji, I had been to New Zealand for two or three weeks, as evidenced by the stamp on page 15. And with that, the documentation of my around-the-world trip in 1996/1997 is finished. <br />
<br />
At the bottom of the page there's a stamp from Germany. Back in the days before Schengen, we got those. I was going on a work trip, to Lotusphere, an IT conference in Berlin. I traveled on a cheap Widerøe flight straight from Oslo pretty much to downtown Berlin, the historic and now closed airport of Tempelhof. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WJv0YhpR7uo/UYEivvY6euI/AAAAAAAAD10/xc1g1Hqe5xM/s1600/H10.Sisteside.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WJv0YhpR7uo/UYEivvY6euI/AAAAAAAAD10/xc1g1Hqe5xM/s400/H10.Sisteside.png" width="400" /></a></div>
And that's the entire contents of my first passport! A rusty paperclip scar (from the swimming through the flooding) and an old address finished up the document. My traveling, however, had barely started!<br />
<br />
Soon I'll be back with another exciting blog entry about my second passport! :)Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-53962665033334659912013-02-09T12:05:00.001+01:002013-02-09T12:05:48.036+01:00My Cape VerdictGreen Cape
Catering to people who aren't content with going on just yet another developed beach around the Mediterranean, the tour companies every year keep on adding at least one or two destinations to new and sunny, albeit slightly odd, destinations. Last fall, the new thing on the menu of cheap direct flight holidays from Norway was Cape Verde. On the second plane to leave from Norway, I found a nice last minute discounted seat. I paid about 380 euros for a roundtrip flight to Africa and a basic, but perfectly good hotel room for a week.
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8455989643/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Home by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="Home" height="460" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8233/8455989643_99aecc8c57_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is this my basic hotel with a swimming pool? Not necessarily.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was dropped off on the island Boa Vista. I risked being imprisoned in one of the giant all-inclusive hotels on the island, but I was lucky and got a room at a smaller hotel in the centre of the "capital" of the island, Sal Rei.<br />
<br />
The village has a population of only six thousand or so, so it doesn't have more than just a few facilities. There's a barber that charges three Euro for a haircutr. And there are a few shops, where most of the items on sale are cheap imports from China. "Gleat qality goodds!", the shopkeepers proudly claim, pretty much all of them being Chinese as well. If there is a more certain way to tell that you're now in proper Africa, then I don't know about it. Except for great herds of wildebeest and zebras, of course. But they aren't very good swimmers, so there aren't any of those in Cape Verde, located 570 kilometres off the western coast of North Africa.
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8457086128/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The World is Flat by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="The World is Flat" height="480" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8530/8457086128_d2fb3daeeb_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cape Verdean Wilderness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Cape Verde is located well inside the tropics, but you don't need to worry about excessive heat. It's a windy place, emphasized by the lack of forests. A few modest volcanic peaks pop up to an altitude of a few hundred metres, but even they do not offer much protection from the winds attacking from the sea, often from all sides at once. In this flat, yet rocky land, not much will grow.<br />
<br />
Other islands in the Cape Verde archipelago are very different, but Boa Vista seems to be just a collection of rocks put on top of some meager pasture. Which is fine, but it certainly keeps the temperatures down. Having experienced the heat of Senegal and The Gambia, that feels like a blessing. Still, do bring sunscreen. Lots of sunscreen!<br />
<br />
I felt completely safe on tiny Boa Vista. That is, until the police came over and warned me to really be careful. I don't know how real the threat is, but the advice given was to avoid walking alone, especially on deserted beaches. You would think that with just six thousand or so people around, it should be possible to shake out the bad seeds, but apparently they have problems with that. Typical foreigners! Nah. I bet they're just like everyone else, there's a small risk that bad things can happen here, just like anywhere else, yet most of the people you will meet are nice ones.
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8457083730/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Greytown by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="Greytown" height="358" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8092/8457083730_48c2737566_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A friendly, yet unpredictable neighbourhood in Sal Rei, Cape Verde</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I still went for walks straight out of Sal Rei and into the wilderness, and I never saw any criminals. If I saw anyone at all, they were generally goat shepherds, smiling as widely at me as anyone possibly can.<br />
<br />
Inside and near the village of Sal Rei, however, I can imagine that some strange and not necessarily only pleasant things can happen. Behind the fairly proper buildings along the streets near the waterfront, I found a total poor people's ghetto, fairly new but still rapidly decaying. All the buildings have tin roofs and walls of concrete blocks, laundry with numerous holes hanging on the roof and garbage floating on the ground. It didn't seem like they had connected to the electrical grid and the sewer system quite yet. After sunset it got really, really dark there, and if you step into a turd, it's origin may well not be of the canine kind, to put it that way.<br />
<br />
Mind you, everyone I met were happy, polite and smiling, waving at me and saying hello. Still, when lots of people live like that, there's bound to be a few of them seeing the potential in having relatively rich European walking around their home.<br />
<br />
The best day during my week on Boa Vista was probably when I rented a car and drove around the whole island. Or maybe it wasn't so much a car, but more a small tank with four-wheel drive and some pretty impressive battle wounds on the sides, the front and the back.<br />
<br />
The rental lady gave me a faint map of the island, with some strange dotted lines that looked like they could just as well be stream beds as roads. When I left civilization, I discovered that some of them actually were rivers AND roads. To get to the spots I thought would be most interesting to see, I just had to drive wherever the ground looked least threatening, whether there were any wheel tracks there or not. Great fun, but a bit exhausting after a while.
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8455983889/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Old Highway by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="The Old Highway" height="359" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8377/8455983889_4d6b88d9d1_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not built by the old Romans, it just looks like it was.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
One whole circuit of the island turned out to be about 100 kilometres long, and it took almost exactly ten hours to complete it. That included no long breaks for eating anywhere, because there weren't really anywhere I could find food on the east side of the island. Fortunately, the landscape was enough of a distraction to let me ignore the rumblings from my stomach.<br />
<br />
I barely saw another car throughout the day, so I was really glad the engine made it back to Sal Rei. As the only car on eastern Boa Vista, I was a pleasant encounter for a shepherd there who wanted to hitch-hike a bit. He didn't seem to know exactly where he was going, but he was beaming with joy from sitting in a car.<br />
<br />
After a while he suddenly asked me to stop and said "Whoa! I have to go over there and check out those goats. I'll be back in a few minutes!". To make sure I didn't take off again without him, he left behind an ancient leathery backpack, presumably filled with his greatest earthly treasures. He returned, we continued, and a little while later he decided he had been sitting in a car enough for that day, and walked out into the wilderness again.<br />
<br />
All in all, my week on Boa Vista was fine, although certainly not spectacular. It's just enough time to get used to all the stray dogs, to try all the courses served in the little outdoor restaurant in the town square, and to learn the names of all the "artists" from Senegal and Guinea-Bissau who patrol the streets in search of tourists willing to buy works from their home villages on the African mainland. Maybe the Chinese running the shop in the corner store has learnt your name as well, having initiated some conversation after you have stumbled into his shop a few times in search of bottled water and salty chips for rehydration following your long, warm walks.
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8457079586/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Survival of the fittest by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="Survival of the fittest" height="557" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8513/8457079586_ffff923a74_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A man and his dog</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If you want to visit the island, I think you should consider not staying in the all-inclusive hotels. You'll be perfectly fine in one of the small guesthouses run by families in Sal Rei instead.<br />
<br />
Ok, so maybe that means you will have to endure a few authentic power outages and a Friday and Saturday night filled with helplessly melancolic dance music coming from accordions and drums very close to your room, but that's not really a big problem. You should still sleep better there than in a large hotel, knowing that the money you spend are going almost straight into the pockets of people who really need the wealth you bring, instead of being exported to some hotel chain's bank account in a far-away tax haven.<br />
<br />
If you just want warm and sunny weather, and you're tired of the Mediterranean and the Canary Islands, Cape Verde will do the job for you. If, however, you travel with lots of dining and shopping in mind, I think you'd better head elsewhere. Unless you collect African drums, postcards turning yellow, or small wooden figurines made from endangered species of trees, that is. They've got plenty of those.<br />
<br />
Summing up my experience: Decent place to go for a week, but I'll probably not return.
Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-39713932582819650792013-01-02T00:07:00.001+01:002013-01-14T10:41:56.674+01:002012 from the other sideAlmost a full day of 2013 has passed, and I still can't see what was so bad about 2012 that we had to change it, really.
Ok, so maybe 2013 is new and shiny, but I can see little further ahead than the guy just under here, so I thought that for now, maybe we should concentrate on looking back at my version of 2012 instead of looking forward.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8334099593/" title="Ullbrillene by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8217/8334099593_8fcb2de1e3_z.jpg" width="640" height="420" alt="Ullbrillene"></a>
</div>
The year started out nicely. The nice hotel we were supposed to stay at in Kuala Lumpur was overbooked, so we were transferred to another even crazier hotel. It was so posh that even the TV remote lived in a leather case of its own, and we had to pick pillows for the bed from a pillow menu. The place was so overly luxurious that there was even no full wall separating the bed from the bath tub and the toilet. That's clear evidence that an obnoxious, overpaid interior designer has roamed here freely, and that only happens at the best hotels. Still, New Year's Eve in Kuala Lumpur was excellent.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8335151678/" title="Kuala Lumpur at New Year's by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8219/8335151678_785d4f060f_z.jpg" width="640" height="498" alt="Kuala Lumpur at New Year's"></a>
</div>
From there we headed for the woods, to the Cameron Highlands. Those hills have the perfect climate for some extensive tea plantations. The farming creates a surreal landscape, and wandering through it was among the highlights of the year to me. If you get tired, just head for the nearest tea house and order their strongest, sugary iced tea, and you'll soon be hyperactive again.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8334092687/" title="Cameron Highlands - Tealand by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8083/8334092687_284c3d5c23_z.jpg" width="640" height="315" alt="Cameron Highlands - Tealand"></a>
</div>
It wasn't long since my last visit to Singapore, but since we were in the neighbourhood anyway, I went back to check on them. The city state gets weirder every year. The latest is that now you can buy five storey Whoppers at Burger King, and in the steep Fort Canning Park, they've installed escalators... I'm guessing that the number of heart disease patients around there must be climbing. Clogged-up blood veins obviously havent been outlawed quite yet.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8335143350/" title="Singapore oddity by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8214/8335143350_08b0570878_z.jpg" width="640" height="634" alt="Singapore oddity"></a>
</div>
Back in Norway the winter was fairly mild. The season for hiking in the woods was a nice and long one, albeit it slightly wetter than we prefer. As early as late February we could start hunting geocaches along the Oslo fjord.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8335141306/" title="Springtime Geocaching by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8224/8335141306_a20f0edfcc_z.jpg" width="640" height="558" alt="Springtime Geocaching"></a>
</div>
The old news of 2012 was that the Hobbit surfaced into popular culture, this time as a long-winded move trilogy. If you still think the movie moves too fast, try going to Killarney in western Ireland and hike the forest there. Everything moves real slow there, except for the clouds, and the surroundings are very The Shire-like.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8334083325/" title="Hobbitish Killarney by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8211/8334083325_0636d9118e_z.jpg" width="640" height="480" alt="Hobbitish Killarney"></a>
</div>
I discovered that there were heaps of other good reasons as well for visiting Ireland in springtime. Wandering along the Cliffs of Moher was awesome. Basking sharks enjoyed the sun in the sea far beneath the trail, huge numbers of puffins squawked on the cliff ledges, crazy green fields collided with the crispy blue sea, and there were no fences to be bothered by.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8334077463/" title="Living on the edge by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8361/8334077463_71b441d438_z.jpg" width="640" height="480" alt="Living on the edge"></a>
</div>
As you get close to the edge of the cliffs, you quickly realize that it may be a good idea to keep some distance between yourself and the vertical sides of the cliff. A cozy amble can otherwise suddenly turn into a short and fatal flight.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8335128822/" title="Into the abyss by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8362/8335128822_1df096cafa_z.jpg" width="640" height="480" alt="Into the abyss"></a>
</div>
The saddest days of the year arrived quickly and left agonizingly slowly. A death among friends should be exclusive to retirees and smokers, but that's unfortunately not the case. It's tough, but as long as you can embrace the feelings that come with it, shake it off and start appreciating being alive as much as possible, it's almost worth it.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8334064961/" title="Missing by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8353/8334064961_798f2b2dc1_z.jpg" width="640" height="424" alt="Missing"></a>
</div>
Early in the summer my parents visited with me in Oslo. It's always a nice thing. Here we're on a walk in the forest, and I just told them that I'm moving to Afghanistan to work for Programmers without borders.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8334063175/" title="You what?! by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8493/8334063175_48919df46c_z.jpg" width="640" height="503" alt="You what?!"></a>
</div>
Fortunately, that wasn't completely true. I was just going to Italy to walk from Milan to Rome along the old pilgrim's route Via Francigena. It's a fairly long walk.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8335117060/" title="It's a long way to Rome by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8363/8335117060_6580d8df79_z.jpg" width="640" height="480" alt="It's a long way to Rome"></a>
</div>
Walking that far isn't what Italians are into. They prefer to use their bicycles. I find that I see more when I walk, so I walked. In Siena, about half-way on my walk, I went to the City Hall and discovered that they were preparing for a large welcome party for me. I just had walked too fast, so they weren't ready for me yet. They were still inflating even more balloons as I continued my walk southwards, so I'm sure the next pilgrim had a grand welcome.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8335110874/" title="Party in Siena by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8076/8335110874_812547ace4_z.jpg" width="640" height="516" alt="Party in Siena"></a>
</div>
After about three weeks I was delighted to stumble into the Vatican, in the middle of Rome. The great feeling of accomplishment is among the better sides of life on this planet.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8335107536/" title="Happy days in Rome by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8075/8335107536_9a26085b8f_z.jpg" width="640" height="480" alt="Happy days in Rome"></a>
</div>
Throughout the year my travel sickness bag collection has kept growing. I only barely managed to keep these guys from the barfbag museum in Cobh away from my specimens. The new countries on my list this year were The Vatican, Kenya, Tanzania, Qatar and Cape Verde. I've passed 70 countries now, and I hope to add about 30 more this next decade.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8335103302/" title="Not at all well by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8499/8335103302_42b04610be_z.jpg" width="640" height="488" alt="Not at all well"></a>
</div>
I found time to visit the dentist as well. There weren't any cavities, really, but I was allowed to have my wisdom teeth rearranged slightly, to make them easier to brush. Without using any anaesthetics! Am I a (frugal) tough guy, or what?!
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8335100090/" title="A trip to the dentist by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8356/8335100090_6bab033b23_z.jpg" width="640" height="480" alt="A trip to the dentist"></a>
</div>
I have also had the pleasure of cleaning a few chinchilla cages this year. That's what you get for getting involved with someone who believes that rodents are animals that should be kept as pets, and that you need at least 30 of them in order to breed ever superior animals. I just hope that she will soon make some animals that are smart enough to start using a toilet properly.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8334039651/" title="Furball cuteness alert by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8352/8334039651_965c0d7d35_z.jpg" width="483" height="524" alt="Furball cuteness alert"></a>
</div>
This year I actually managed to go to Africa, and twice at that! The first time was to watch animals. The enormous herds of wildebeest, zebra and buffalo that roam the savannah between Tanzania and Kenya was the most overwhelming wildlife encounter I have had in years. Look out for lions and ticks as well, though!
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8335096014/" title="How do you gnu? by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8491/8335096014_71c2a4aa35_z.jpg" width="640" height="317" alt="How do you gnu?"></a>
</div>
My other trip to Africa was more to look at rocks and people. Cape Verde is the perfect location for that. Although people there smile, it's difficult to understand exactly why they do so. As a tourist you'll have a marvelous time in Cape Verde, but most of the locals are going through some tough times.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8334034047/" title="Cape Verde locals by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8352/8334034047_d1854935d8_z.jpg" width="640" height="480" alt="Cape Verde locals"></a>
</div>
Scenery-wise, the greatest experience I had this year must have been when we started the day in a dense mist at the top of the Ngorongoro Crater, and then, as we slowly descended on a mud road into the crater itself, the clouds parted in a divine fashion, and more and more animals came into view. It was just breathtaking.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8334030557/" title="The Descent into Ngorongoro by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8220/8334030557_2e148548b6_z.jpg" width="640" height="348" alt="The Descent into Ngorongoro"></a>
</div>
The possibly strangest experience I had this year, at least outside my own head, took place closer to home. In the middle of November I joined a gang of hard core geocachers in recreating the horror movie "The Blair Witch Project" in the forests of Østfold. I can't tell you much about it without risking a curse on my life, but I'll tell you it was a wonderfully funny, cold and wet experience. Geocaching is a great hobby to, uhm... strange people.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8335085404/" title="Caching in the dark by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8216/8335085404_239d7354f2_z.jpg" width="640" height="458" alt="Caching in the dark"></a>
</div>
That's life; a series of hindrances and challenges that generally can be overcome, although not always in the most elegant fashion. As long as you have fun and you learn from it, that's the way it should be.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8334028115/" title="The Hard Way by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8071/8334028115_a96515cb25_z.jpg" width="524" height="640" alt="The Hard Way"></a>
</div>
A lovely, white Christmas in Norway ended the year for me. I was quite pleased with 2012. Would live it again. 2013 I hope to put to good use as well, and while I hope it will be different, I also hope it will be just as great as 2012. First, however, I foresee that I shall have to eat lots of half-price Christmas candy.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324952881/" title="Christmas on duty by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8079/8324952881_ddb9848226_z.jpg" width="472" height="640" alt="Christmas on duty"></a>
</div>
I found these words of wisdom at a cemetery in Ireland:
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8335082526/" title="Life by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8215/8335082526_1119261668_z.jpg" width="640" height="347" alt="Life is not a carousel. It only goes around once. So enjoy it."></a>
</div>
So there you have it.
I wish a Happy New Year to all of you!
Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-6205329471069166812012-12-30T19:07:00.000+01:002012-12-30T19:07:03.691+01:00Scenes from another ChristmasThis year I tried something new, spending Christmas in Southern Norway, as opposed to Northern Norway or being somewhere warm, traveling. It wasn't bad at all, and because I brought my camera, I can show you what it was like.
We begin early on Christmas Eve in Nannestad, just outside Oslo. We're heading into the woods to hide a mailbox with some silly plastic toys inside. <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/" target="_blank">Don't ask why</a>. It's been snowing all through the night, so it makes for a tiresome walk, but also for an enchanting view all around us.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324961173/" title="Forest wearing white by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="Forest wearing white" height="480" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8223/8324961173_ca64c012fe_c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Fortunately someone has been kind enough to plow ski tracks through the snow, where we can walk with relative ease a bit of the way.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324958673/" title="A walk in the woods by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="A walk in the woods" height="480" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8077/8324958673_ba919e3531.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Back from our mailbox voyage, Christmas officially starts as we eat the traditional Norwegian Christmas dinner, ribs. (Yes, there are vegetables to eat as well, but this meal is all about the meat!)
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324955955/" title="Norwegian Christmas Dinner by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="Norwegian Christmas Dinner" height="480" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8078/8324955955_0e31b53616.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
After opening our Christmas presents we head for Kvitfjell, north of Lillehammer. Rumour has it that there are more presents to be collected there! Of course, first we have to find our cabin... Easier said than done in these mountains.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8326011776/" title="Heavy snow by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="Heavy snow" height="480" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8496/8326011776_d7a875b557_c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Hooray! The rumours were correct! Inside the cabin we find a fireplace, a guardian dog and a Christmas tree with presents beneath it.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324952881/" title="Christmas on duty by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="Christmas on duty" height="800" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8079/8324952881_ddb9848226_c.jpg" width="590" /></a></div>
This year Christmas coincides with a full moon and nice weather. The nights are bright, and we can easily go for a walk in the forest at night, even without torches.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324950667/" title="Cabin under the moon by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="Cabin under the moon" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8071/8324950667_d0006ddd77_c.jpg" width="472" /></a></div>
When the sun rises in Norway in December, it only does so slowly. Also, it's only those parts of the landscape that benefit from the colouring of a low-hanging sun. To make up for that, those parts get the loveliest shade of red that any sunlight can produce. It becomes the mountains of Rondane perfectly.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8326005880/" title="Red Rondane by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8494/8326005880_387c1499d0_z.jpg" width="640" height="448" alt="Red Rondane"></a></div>
"Our" side of the moutains has to go for three weeks mid-winter with no direct sun at all. It makes the world bluish, but the colours from behind the hill can not be kept from us.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324946113/" title="Morning on the horizon by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="Morning on the horizon" height="498" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8353/8324946113_1844219394_c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
The more we zoom in on the photo above, the more colour we get.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324944383/" title="A new day arrives by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="A new day arrives" height="480" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8501/8324944383_896a860f05_c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
It turns out that you can create amazing scenery using just the colours of white and blue. Nature has done a good job of it here, methinks.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8326000666/" title="This is winter by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="This is winter" height="480" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8075/8326000666_3eaf1531ce_c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
If Disney were to do a remake of the photo above, I think it would look something like this:
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8325999284/" title="This is winter - Cartoon style by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="This is winter - Cartoon style" height="480" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8214/8325999284_96a834bd37_c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Up at the plateau near the top of Kvitfjell, the winds of the mountain have suddenly turned this into a clouded world. This makes it hard to see much apart from the whiteness of the mountains.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8325997814/" title="White in the mountains by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="White in the mountains" height="443" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8071/8325997814_97c27ffa41_c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
The wind changes its mind and soon it's clear again. We look north towards some cabins on the other side of the valley. It's easy to see why they're wooden houses.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324939547/" title="Living in the forest by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="Living in the forest" height="480" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8075/8324939547_5131c8a11f_c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
This view promises us that in just a couple of weeks we shall again receive the gift of sunlight even on this side of the mountain.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8325994340/" title="The promise of sun by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="The promise of sun" height="480" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8079/8325994340_67c040ba50_c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
If this was a photo from an old fairy tale, I'm pretty sure that this would either be a troll turned into a rock, or a place with trolls living inside it. The peak is called Hestknappen, "The Horse Button". Sometimes the name of a place doesn't make much sense.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324935887/" title="Hestknappen by uspn, on Flickr"><img alt="Hestknappen" height="451" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8220/8324935887_afd8d3a7ec_c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
We take the dog for a walk to see the sunset. At first he's jumping around, delighted to be outside. After a few minutes of slow progress through deep snow, two pleading eyes make us turn our noses and snout back to the fireplace. But the view we enjoy can not be complained about.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324933505/" title="Hiking buddies by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8502/8324933505_daa036b489_z.jpg" width="640" height="462" alt="Hiking buddies"></a></div>
This is what we saw to the north from the ridge of Kvitfjell:
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324932601/" title="Ringebu Panorama by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8495/8324932601_80acf965f2_z.jpg" width="640" height="250" alt="Ringebu Panorama"></a></div>
As the sun sets to the west, a red moon rises to the east, somewhere behind the Rondane mountains. It's our last glimpse of the Christmas of 2012.
<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/8324931505/" title="Red Moon Rising by uspn, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8360/8324931505_7b798ba7d8_z.jpg" width="640" height="480" alt="Red Moon Rising"></a></div>
I hope you had a nice holiday as well! #8D)Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-14921762499933079192012-12-15T13:54:00.001+01:002012-12-15T23:18:17.963+01:00To Fidenza and Beyond - Walking the Via Francigena<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/fros/images/VestmarkaVinterskoghvitt.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/fros/images/VestmarkaVinterskoghvitt.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scenes like this only come with severe cold.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Norway is at its darkest and coldest right now, making it not much good for walking. To brighten my day, remembering my long, warm walk through Italy this summer should be just the right thing. Do tag along, it can't hurt either of us.<br />
<br />
A couple of years ago, <a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/camino/" target="_blank">I walked the Camino de Santiago de Compostela</a>. It was a wonderful experience. It taught me how much walking I am actually capable of, which turned out to be a lot, and through my walk I felt that I almost became part of northern Spain and its hundreds of years of pilgrimage history.<br />
<br />
I rarely visit the same place twice, if I can help it, but I confess to having thought about doing another walk to Santiago, preferably via one of the other old pilgrimage routes that end up there. Still, that would be fairly similar to my first walk, so I decided to look elsewhere for my next long walk. <br />
<br />
The next obvious option was to walk to Rome and the Holy See. As it happens, there is an old pilgrimage trail leading there, the Via Francigena. It starts in Canterbury in England and after a long swim or boat ride it takes you through France, Switzerland and Italy. It sounds like an excellent alternative to anything Santiago, but I had never actually met someone who knew much about it, and absolutely no one who had walked it. That's usually a good reason for me to go somewhere and do it. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.everytrail.com/view_trip.php?trip_id=1929074" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zEgCzPjXXZo/UMxvDgWZTrI/AAAAAAAAAok/ihSvwYvRVes/s1600/viaklipp.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click map to go to interactive version.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I only had three weeks, so I clearly couldn't walk the entire thing. I know I can do about 200 kilometers per week if everything goes well, so I searched for a place along the trail where 1) I would have roughly 600 kilometres to walk to get to Rome, and 2) I could pick up a pilgrim's passport. There is such a place; Fidenza! <br />
<br />
I found a cheap flight to Milan and got on the first train south the next morning. It's a great start. Milano is busy, a grey and boring city for anyone not that interested in fashion. As you're about to go for a long walk, you'll probably be rather underdressed for this city, so you'll feel relieved when the train rolls out of the crazy huge Milano Centrale station. <br />
<br />
An hour and a half later, I walked off the train in a small and cozy village in Parma. The town square was full of smiling, nicely rounded people, presumably all too familiar with parmesan cheese and Parma ham, enjoying ice cream and coffee on a hot early summer day. It was a great place to begin a walk.<br />
<br />
I got my pilgrim's passport, my credenziali, quickly sorted at <a href="http://turismo.parma.it/page.asp?IDCategoria=260&IDSezione=1094&ID=34854" target="_blank">Casa Cremonini</a>, right next to the cathedral. I acted as clueless as I could, since it was fairly clear that so were they. Granted, it was easier for me, because my Italian is really bad, but still... I expected them to be a little bit like the people who help pilgrims get started in Saint Jean Pied-de-Port for the Camino de Santiago. They aren't.<br />
<br />
<span id="goog_488697510"></span><span id="goog_488697511"></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC03078FidenzaApplausAaFaa.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC03078FidenzaApplausAaFaa.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An old lady witnessed me departing on my walk and decided to applaud it. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
While there can be hundreds of people starting their journey from SJPP daily during high-season, there can be several days between every day a pilgrim pops by the office in Fidenza, and only a few actually start walking there. There were no brochures and no knowledge to be had from the Cremoninis, so I just asked them which way to Rome. They pointed me out the door, and I was on my way, slightly disillusioned. This walk was probably not going to be much like my Camino de Santiago experience. <br />
<br />
And it wasn't! It took me two minutes to realize that compared with Camino de Santiago's friendly yellow arrows pointing out which way to go and not to go at every possible and impossible turn, often even on straight roads with deep ditches on each side, Via Francigena has little or nothing to help you. <br />
<br />
I got lost four times before I even left the town of Fidenza. The only way to keep on track was to rely on the GPS trail I had bought from a money-minded pilgrim before leaving home. Do <b>not</b> leave home to walk Via Francigena without something like that to guide you. The good news is that if you start your walk from Fidenza or further south, you can just <a href="http://www.everytrail.com/view_trip.php?trip_id=1929074" target="_blank">download my trail for free</a>. I'd venture to say that my track is even better than the one I bought, as I found many places where the trail had been moved and/or where I could walk more safely, a bit away from the roads where insane Italian drivers seek out people to mow down. <br />
<br />
<span id="goog_488697520"></span><span id="goog_488697521"></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC03309CarnevalaTynnPilgrimsrute.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC03309CarnevalaTynnPilgrimsrute.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That narrow line in the field, that's Via Francigena. I'm not joking.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When you eventually learn to live with the sparsity of signs on the Via Francigena, you start wondering about the route it takes you. The distance you have to walk from Fidenza to get to Roma is actually much longer than the equivalent drive. It sort of makes sense. Once upon a time, someone figured out what a good way to walk across Italy was. Then many centuries passed, and much of that route was gradually replaced with roads for horses and cars, and the pedestrians had to find other ways for themselves. <br />
<br />
Today the Via Francigena is a strange labyrinth through and around an infinite number of fields and farms separating you and Rome. The detours you're sent out on are frustratingly many. My first (half) day of walking took me from Fidenza to Medesano. As the crow flies, that is 13.5 kilometres. If you drive, it's 18 kilometres. My walk was... 26 kilometres! (Not including the bits where I got lost.) It's not as bad as that every day, but it feels like it. Especially when it's 40+ degrees out.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC04764CastiglioneTreskekunst.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="406" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC04764CastiglioneTreskekunst.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fields south of Siena, near San Quirico D'Orcia.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On the plus side, you <b>do</b> get to see lots of beautiful countryside. And there won't be any loudmouths around to disturb you while you enjoy it. Because when you walk the Via Francigena, you do it only with the company you bring along. If you start out alone, you must bring your entertainment. It's not like on the Camino de Santiago, where you pretty much everyday will meet and walk for a while with someone new and interesting, someone with lots of tales to tell and possibly even someone willing to listen to you. <br />
<br />
So, with there being close to no pilgrims on the trail, there aren't many places for pilgrims to sleep either. Some towns have a hostel for pilgrims, most don't. If there is a place, and if you have the address, you'll often find that it's closed, and that there is no one around that knows anything about it. While there are a few amazing exceptions to the rule, most nights you will have to sleep either for free in the woods with no facilities at all, or you treat yourself to a hotel with more facilities than you care for, at a price much higher than you have budgeted for. The 10-20 euro level of great pilgrim's hostels typically available with a few kilometres between them along the Camino de Santiago are just about nowhere to be found in Italy. <br />
<br />
<span id="goog_488697544"></span><span id="goog_488697545"></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC03688BibolaIdylliskSted.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC03688BibolaIdylliskSted.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bibola was a long time ago put up on a hill to avoid plunderers and malaria.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span id="goog_488697537"></span><span id="goog_488697538"></span> I hate to make it sound so bad. It really isn't, especially seen from a vantage point six months on. There are many beautiful sights and experiences along the way. Places I know only because I walked the Via;<br />
<ul>
<li>The late night pizza place in Medesano.</li>
<li>The medieval hamlet of Castello di Casola with the dramatic valley backdrop.</li>
<li>Crossing the Appennines at the Passo della Cisa.</li>
<li>Ice cream in Villafranca In Lunigiana.</li>
<li>Bibola! Oh, Bibola, the most photogenic village imaginable.</li>
<li>Observing rich Italians, obscenely tanned and even more obscenely dressed, enjoying themselves in Pietrasanta's night clubs and discos.</li>
<li>The names of famous vines suddenly appearing as vineyards next to the path.</li>
<li>Lush farmland.</li>
<li>Enchanting old Viterbo, beautifully falling down.</li>
<li>A most wonderful amble through a narrow strip of old forest before Sutri.</li>
<li>Walking through the old and badly maintained park on Monte Mario, and suddenly have Saint Peter's Basilica visually scream at you. </li>
</ul>
I could go on. The list is truly long. Maybe even long enough to make it
worth your while to walk it. Your walk will be different and your
tastes may vary, but if you go, it's likely that you too will have many
nice memories to look back on.<br />
<br />
Via Francigena in its current
condition can never be recommended ahead of the Camino de Santiago. It's
missing the facilities. It's missing the fellowshop on the trail. It's
missing the bargain prices for food and lodging. It's plain out
dangerous, offering way too intimate encounters with ferocious dogs and
mindless drivers. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC05358MassaruccioDritthunder.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC05358MassaruccioDritthunder.JPG" width="362" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Annoying dog. I like his pal in the back much better.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If I were to recommend it to anyone, though, it would have to be for an April/May or October hike, when the weather and temperatures probably are fairly good for walking. And you should definitely look into booking ahead inexpensive lodging with the various monasteries along the way (call them, Italian only, and show up at the agreed time). Also, most mornings you should take a long, good look at today's walk and consider whether you really want to walk every bit of it. Where you can see large sections of the trail being on an open highway, do consider taking a bus or something to increase your chances of survival.<br />
<br />
My favourite parts were these walking days: <br />
<ul>
<li>From Fidenza to Medesano. Beautiful farmland.</li>
<li>From Cassio to Berceto and across the Appennines to Pontremoli. Nice mountains.</li>
<li>From Aulla to Sarzana, especially the first bit, including passing Bibola.</li>
<li>From Gambassi Terme to San Gimignano. Pleasant Tuscany farmland.</li>
<li>From San Quirico D'Orcia to Radicofani. The entire day is full of wonderful scenery.</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC04797GallinaGenerasjonskloeft.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC04797GallinaGenerasjonskloeft.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I saw a lot of this.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The best places I found for staying the night were:<br />
<ul>
<li>The pilgrim hostel in Cassio. It's probably closed, but go to the bar up the road, they'll summon the keymaster for you.</li>
<li>The pilgrim hostel in Radicofani. Just like the Camino de Santiago ones, with volunteers and all.</li>
<li>Pieve di Santa Maria Assunta a Chianni, just before Gambassi Terme. Nicely restored lodging in the back, and they're open.</li>
<li>Bed & Breakfast Monticelli, just after Capranica. Very friendly people despite being only option.</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC03435CassioDekketTilFrokost.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/images/DSC03435CassioDekketTilFrokost.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was the only one there, but the hostel in Cassio still served breakfast for me and my imaginary friends. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My last tip for all future pilgrims is that when you arrive in the Vatican, do <b>not</b> go to the tourist information office to get your "Testimonium", or diploma if you like. Instead you should heap up on the left side of the Vatican, past the colonnade. There's a security checkpoint there. As long as you carry just a daypack <b>and</b> your passport, they will issue a visitor pass for you, which you can use to go inside the Vatican. Just around the corner you will find the sacristy of Saint Peter's Basilica, where you can get a much more impressive-looking testimonium, and if you ask nicely, they will probably let you pass straight through to the Treasury Museum from there, past the queue.<br />
<br />
So there you have it. You can find more of <a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/">my photos from the walk here</a>. If you think I'm wrong about anything at all, do not hesitate to inform me. Also, if there's anything else you'd like to know, just ask in the comments!<br />
<br />
Happy trails!<br />
<br />Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-75825486948905477722012-12-11T01:52:00.002+01:002012-12-11T01:52:13.104+01:00Still bagging them!As we head towards the end of another year, I am pleased to note that once again has it grown, my <a href="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/spypose/" target="_blank">pile of travel sickness bags</a>. I began collecting them back when, and I put the collection on-line in 1994. Now I have well over 200 different species, so there's no reason for me to panic if I feel a bit queasy.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rgqdyg3iq9I/UMZwW1CmCbI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/wRawbcKARCM/s1600/spyposerv2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rgqdyg3iq9I/UMZwW1CmCbI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/wRawbcKARCM/s400/spyposerv2.jpg" width="370" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of my precious...</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I still do my best to frequently end up in a seat where I can add to my collection, but I'm also greatly assisted by my traveling friends, often turning up in unexpected places where interesting creations are located in the seat in front of them. <br />
<br />
Here are some of my fairly recent favourites: <br />
<ul>
<li>A "Hill Sickness Bag" from Indian Himalaya. The curves on the road up from Chandigarh to the hill station Shimla are many and violent. I do recommend going on the train instead. The bends are only marginally less dramatic, but the velocity is lower. Also, there's a much smaller chance of your vehicle ending up flying down off a cliff. But if travel sickness bags is your thing, going by bus is the only way.<br /></li>
<li>The air sickness bag from Yeti Airlines in Nepal. Just the name of the airline is good enough reason to love it, but if you turn the bag around, you'll find a sari-clad tikka-wearing woman in the process of demonstrating how to use a barfbag. "Kindly use this air sickness bag in case of
vomitting during flight. Thanks!" No subtleties, it's just the way we like it!<br /> </li>
<li>A personal travel sickness bags from a kit with stuff you need when you travel by plane; thick, wooly socks, an eye cover, ear buds and a travel sickness bag neatly packed into a small envelope. "If an upset stomach is anticipated, remove SIC-SAC from this container and keep ready for use. Do not be embarrassed by this precaution as even veteran air travelers are subject to occasional motion sickness". This can be ordered in large numbers from the Allied Aviation Supplies Co.,
Box 75013 Farley Station, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma 73147, USA.<br /></li>
<li>AeroGal, which isn't quite as sexy as it may sound, but just the airline of the Galapagos islands. They have a marine iguana in their logo and call themselves "the intelligent airline". It's so tiny and cute that I had to put it on this list. <br /></li>
<li>Iran Aseman Airlines. It may or may not be pronounced Assman, but it's funny in other ways as well. They still operate using the Boeing 727-200, an airplane model manufactured from 1963 to 1984. Since Iranian companies are not allowed by the USA to buy new American planes, they just have to keep their old things flying. Barfbags from this company may quickly become rather difficult to find. </li>
</ul>
That's all I have for you today, but don't worry, there's bound to be some even more exciting news regarding travel sickness bag coming this way, sooner or later!<br />
<br />Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-53733865095085881152012-12-08T23:46:00.000+01:002016-01-17T13:35:51.581+01:00Review: Rift Valley Explorer group tour by Exodus - WYJPlease note that the following is pretty much a review of an organized tour I went on, and not the kind of blog posting I usually bring. While I try to keep it entertaining and interesting, it's probably of most interest to those of you planning on going on a safari in East Africa.
<br />
<br />
The tour was called "East Africa Safari" with tour code AQW when I participated on it. Following the publication of this review, the tour was renamed "Rift Valley Explorer" with tour code WYJ, but it is the exact same tour.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/" target="_blank">My photos from the trip</a>.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.everytrail.com/view_trip.php?trip_id=1921374" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g1Rz_F1LN2c/UMPINMlcblI/AAAAAAAAAoA/qYywXyXDrxI/s1600/tripmap.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click map to go to zoom-able version</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="http://www.everytrail.com/view_trip.php?trip_id=1921374">GPS trail for the East Africa Safari</a> <br />
--<br />
<br />
East Africa had long been a large, gaping hole on my travel CV. For no particular reason, really. <br />
<br />
I usually pick my destinations through whichever flight or deal is the best whenever I have a month of free time to kill. The countries of East Africa are very poor. Kenya is number 152 and Tanzania is number 158 out of 180 on the World Bank's list of purchasing power per capita. A Norwegian has 30-35 times the purchasing power of an East African. Still, being a secure tourist in those countries can be very expensive, so going there had just never been the most attractive option.<br />
<br />
This time, however, my time off coincided with the best time for going to East Africa. In August and September you can watch The Great Migration, basically hundreds of thousands of animals walking more or less together from Tanzania to Kenya in search of fresh grass. It's spectacular, and I wanted to see it. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC06769MaraTusenvisAvGnu.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC06769MaraTusenvisAvGnu.JPG" height="315" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Great Crowded Migration it its peak</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
You have to think in a special way when going to East Africa. Reading the web sites of hotels, you soon discover that they do not emphasize their swimming pools or their proximity to the city centre. Instead, they proudly present their high security level and tall walls with barbed-wire on top, preferably far away from where locals may roam. Getting around by local transportation can be an adventure, but more than elsewhere you must be prepared for long waits and the possibility of your trip ending up in a coffin. <br />
<br />
Given this, and the fact that East Africa can offer some of the greatest wildlife experiences on the planet, it's not surprising that a huge number of tour companies have popped up to offer their services in the region.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC06693MaraWeComeInPeace.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC06693MaraWeComeInPeace.JPG" height="308" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cape Buffaloes, almost as scary as going on a tour full of strangers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Many options are undeniably very expensive. Others seem to be only a little bit expensive. It can be done independently, but I had company and we were on a fairly tight schedule, so we decided to join a tour that fit our dates, the 1,750 Euro, almost two-week <a href="http://www.exodus.co.uk/holidays/aqw/overview" target="_blank">East Africa Safari</a> by Exodus. We figured there is just no way anyone can completely mess up experiencing wildlife on the scale of The Great Migration.<br />
<br />
Here's how it went...<br />
<br />
<h3>
Once upon a time in Africa </h3>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC05921SwaraGiraffForfra.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC05921SwaraGiraffForfra.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking safari sighting</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Having spent a few days on a farm outside Nairobi, enjoying the chance to walk around freely in the wild with little chance of encountering man-eaters or man-tramplers, we were picked up from a posh hotel in the city a couple of hours late. We were delayed because about half our group came straight off a flight that was late from England. Taking people away from their afternoon tea in London and putting them straight onto a safari in Africa is pretty crazy on its own, but I guess it's good for people who are REALLY strapped for time. To us it just meant that our day would be really busy. Regaining two lost hours is nearly impossible on the tight schedule Exodus runs.<br />
<br />
The trip started out the worst way possible. After half an hour in Nairobi rush hour traffic (it's a fairly permanent thing), the truck stopped at a <a href="http://goo.gl/maps/CVYVJ" target="_blank">Bonjour petrol station</a>, and our tour leader, Julius Leteele, told us that now would be a good time to stock up on snacks and water. So we did. <br />
<br />
The whole thing felt like an ambush. The groups was defenseless, most being very tired and having just gotten off a plane and changed money into a new currency of unfamiliar value. The guys at the register effortlessly scammed us. No one watched our pale and bony European asses. "One bottle of water and a packet of biscuits? That's... Let's see... Two thousand schillings!" No receipts were given, but most of us paid well above what we would have paid for similar items back in Europe. By the time we left the shop, the two clerks had made a fortune and probably got on the phone straight away to buy themselves new mansions in the highlands where they could now go and live happily ever after.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC06438NaivashaTreIMotlys.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC06438NaivashaTreIMotlys.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Naivasha forest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We continued the drive into the Great Rift Valley and set up camp by Lake Naivasha, at <a href="http://goo.gl/maps/afA1t" target="_blank">Crayfish Camp</a>. Julius taught us how to pitch our tents without poking out too many eyeballs, and then we were off to the only bit of walking safari on this trip. It was nice enough visit to a forest near Crater Lake, although it hardly classified as a walk on the wild side. Still, we saw lots of antilope, some buffaloes and a good-sized group of giraffes. It was a pleasant and gentle introduction to African wildlife for anyone new to it. <br />
<br />
<br />
It was dark before we were back at the camp, stopping off at the shore of the lake for two minutes to barely make out the shape of a hippo head or two in the dark water. The cook had done his best to prepare food catering to a British sense of taste. Unfortunately, he was quite good at it, so we had to suffer through proper, old-fashioned English cuisine for the rest of the trip. <br />
<br />
On the morning of day 2 I braved the really cold air and enjoyed a quick, hot and rustic shower, before we had a long English Breakfast and got on the road. Three hours in the truck, a change to Land Cruisers in Narok and then another two hours on a fairly bumpy road brought us to the Sekenani gate of the Maasai Mara National Reserve. <br />
<br />
We were to spend two nights at the <a href="http://www.mountainrockkenya.com/" target="_blank">Mountain Rock Mara Springs Camp</a>, where we had the most comfortable time of the entire journey. Instead of pitching our tents again, we slept in a "permanent camp", house-like tents with en-suite bathroom. There was an afternoon game drive of 3,5 hours and a good meal. We didn't bring a cook here, so it was NOT British style, hooray! Day 3 was spent on an excellent ten hour game drive conducted by a professional local guide, taking us through the park all the way to the Tanzanian border and the river Mara and back.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC06875MaraSkyerILoeveland.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC06875MaraSkyerILoeveland.JPG" height="464" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maasai Mara scenery</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Day 4 wasn't too exciting, as all we did was to backtrack to Lake Naivasha and then continue to Lake Nakuru, altogether 340 kilometres of road watching. Little or no information was given about anything we saw on our way, so I'm not sure if there was something I should have noticed. Upon arrival we were offered a "farm walk", which turned out to be a worker showing us a field of cows and an old barn. A workers collective, <a href="http://www.kenanaknitters.com/" target="_blank">Kenana Knitters</a> is based there, but they had all left work for the day by the time we made it there. <br />
<br />
Day 5 was another full day game drive (5,5 hours), but this time we were unfortunately doing it in our truck, and we didn't enter the park until around nine o'clock, when the sun was high in the sky and most animals had retreated to the shade deep in the bush. Through what must have been some divine intervention, we still managed to find three lions in a tree right away. The rest of it was also okay, although our guide kept falling asleep, and the one rhino I managed to spot turned out to be a rock. Just as well, really. As it turned out, due to a break in the time/space continuum, it could take up to a full minute from the moment we shouted out for the truck to stop for some animal watching until the message would actually reach our driver. If there still was something to see outside our truck by then, it was sheer luck. <br />
<br />
Day 6, probably the least interesting day of the trip, was a 416 kilometer drive through western Kenya into Tanzania. It was a straight-through thing with no stopping to pay the glorious landscape of the tea plantations along the road. Why not? Because visits to tea plantations must be booked a month in advance, according to our guide. I suppose that's how long it takes for a Kenyan tea plantation to clean up the scene enough to give the impression that it looks like a decent place to work. I don't see why Exodus couldn't have booked a visit, though. Most of the people on the bus had booked their trip several months ago. Especially since the brochure puts it this way: "Our long drive today allows plenty of time to appreciate the superb scenery". Right, just not while being stationary.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC07430TilVictoriaBrakkerFraNyVinkel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC07430TilVictoriaBrakkerFraNyVinkel.JPG" height="388" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tea Country!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
So we just kept on driving and driving. The bladders of everyone onboard performed well, so there were no catastrophes. Apparently, in Kenya one is only allowed to take pee breaks at insanely overpriced curio shops which take a long time to find. <br />
<br />
Having read and heard so much about it, I was really looking forward to seeing Lake Victoria. I was a bit disappointed to discover that we would only actually see it for about half an hour, as we arrived just before sunset. The next morning we were not going for a game drive at all, so all of a sudden it was important that we got up before sunrise to get back on the road. The only ones who were up before us this day were the mosquitoes. Lots of mosquitoes.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC07516LakeVictoriaBryllupslys.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC07516LakeVictoriaBryllupslys.JPG" height="434" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I spent my time by Lake Victoria wisely, I think, sneaking into a wedding on the beach.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Day 7 was another long drive, but this one was better than the previous day. We spent much of the day driving through the Serengeti National Park, and there were many animals around. The highlight was camping at a most basic, unfenced site in the middle of the park, where we could listen to the magical sounds of the nocturnal animals busy at work. Except our guide kept warning us about the dangers of wild animals, to the degree that half the group didn't dare go to sleep inside their tents, and instead spent the night drinking wine and keeping the noise level so high that all animals kept a good and safe distance to our camp. <br />
<br />
The beginning of Day 8 was okay, as we went on a morning game drive. It was a LATE morning game drive, because before we could go to see the animals in one of the most amazing wilderness parks in the world, we had to spend more than an hour having breakfast and pulling down our camp. We shared the camp with another group who left their tents to be taken down later and immediately got out on their drive before sunrise, and that made it feel particularly wrong doing chores in the dawn and feasting on another horrible English breakfast instead of being out there with the animals.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC07763SerengetiMorgenkaffekokeren.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC07763SerengetiMorgenkaffekokeren.JPG" height="308" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The camp in Serengeti</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So, our time in Serengeti was effectively limited to a three hour morning drive. Fortunately we were heading for even greater things. A ferocious rainstorm set in, and our driver decided to push through it as quickly as possible.<br />
<br />
The road disagreed, and did its bumpiest. For four hours we speedily pushed through towards the rim of the Ngorongoro crater, our truck falling more and more apart all the time. Windows started liberating themselves from the rest of the vehicle and new and exciting metallic sounds began to dominate the soundscape inside the vehicle. Nothing could stop us! Not yet, anyway.<br />
<br />
Again we arrived at the campsite just as darkness fell, so we never got to see the glorious view of the Ngorongoro Crater at sunset from the rim. Instead, we again pitched our tents, had semi-warm showers and watched or helped Anglofood being prepared from unspeakable ingredients. <br />
<br />
Day 9 was an excellent day again. We ditched our truck, driver and guide, and got a real safari instead, seated in Land Cruisers. The hours at the Ngorongoro Crater were stunning, starting as we descended through dense fog and mist hanging on the rim, to an increasingly sunny plateau inside the crater. The place is truly like a lost world, where both the innocence and the brutality of Nature herself keeps coming right at you from all angles. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC07985NgorongoroZebraIMorgenskysol.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC07985NgorongoroZebraIMorgenskysol.JPG" height="467" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning in the Ngorongoro Crater</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Clearly, Exodus had only paid for the half-day thing, so we were rushed out of the crater just in time for the twelve o'clock deadline. Our truck had been fixed with duct tape and string, so we picked it up again and started driving towards Arusha. On our way we passed Lake Manyara, described in the tour itinerary this way: "We continue our journey through beautiful country, where there is a great view over Lake Manyara, often tinted pink around the edges from large numbers of flamingos". We enjoyed that view for a full half second in a sharp bend on the road through the windows of the truck. I can't say I treasure that memory.<br />
<br />
We stopped at the Maserani Snake Park Camping for the night. It's a safe place with no locals at all around. The exception is a rather sad-looking display of fairly local live snakes, birds and monkeys. The showers there were hot, or at least offered a rich experience of electrical shocks. <br />
<br />
Day 10 was spent getting back to Kenya, to get to the last national park on our trip; Amboseli. Our truck broke down completely, still upset from the battering it had received in the Serengeti a couple of days earlier. It was the best thing that happened that day. As we had to wait for a plan B to emerge, there was nothing sheltering us from the curious locals who could now enjoy the view of miserable foreigners. Oh, how quickly the roles can change on the scene of life! Anyway, some of us went over to them and enjoyed a couple of hours of entertaining conversation and mimics with them. Eventually a bus from the national park arrived to bring us to our camp. No safari that day.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC08575AmboseliGjoermefant.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC08575AmboseliGjoermefant.JPG" height="492" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Amboseli!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
That was okay, because the last full day of our tour was spent on a game drive in Amboseli, seeing mainly the numerous and large elephants the park is so famous for. I quite enjoyed it. I also enjoyed the camp site, although it was the most basic one on the trip. The facilities were two showers and two toilets a long walk away from where we pitched our tents. The only items for sale in the area were water and beer, sold straight from a portable non-electric cooler in a tent-like construction nearby. We received the usual safety brief telling us not to leave the immediate proximity of the camp, or else. The amusing bit was that while all other camps in the area seemed to be located behind two or three layers of tall, electrical fences, all that kept the animals away from us were thorny branches that had been gathered and piled up around us. To minimize our protection, we used those very branches as firewood throughout the evening. <br />
<br />
Finally we spent a full day driving back to Nairobi. To be precise, we spent most of the day driving IN Nairobi. The worst bit was spending 2 hours and 45 minutes on just under 7 kilometres of insanely slow and crowded traffic. We could of course have walked it much faster, but it's likely that we would have become victims of a wide range of crimes on our way. Including all the waiting at the police station that would necessarily follow, we probably would not have saved much time. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC08975NairobiKoeGjennomByen.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC08975NairobiKoeGjennomByen.JPG" height="372" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nairobi traffic jam</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
So there you have it. <br />
<br />
Did I have a good time in East Africa? Yes, definitely! I came for the animals, and I got lots of animals. <br />
<br />
Was I happy with the way the Exodus conducted the trip? Not. At. All. <br />
<br />
Upon returning to Norway, I contacted Exodus and basically asked them about the discrepancies between how they present their tours and how they actually operate them. They did respond promptly and politely, and they seemed to be honestly concerned regarding several of the issues I brought up. They were even nice enough to offer me a small compensation, "as a gesture of goodwill". (That was not my goal, I just wanted some answers, so I turned it down.) <br />
<br />
That said, I got the feeling that their actual response is that this trip, the East Africa Safari (code AQW), is only sold as an Exodus tour, but it's actually run by a local operator who is free to conduct the tour the way they deem best. As long as choices are made to ensure that no one gets in harm's way, that is of course a good thing. However, as I have discovered, it may lead to much frustration in groups where some people are experienced travelers and others are the opposite, yet the same restrictions, cautions and schedules are applied to everyone. <br />
<br />
If you know how to travel, you will always have a better experience on your own than on a mixed group like this. Sometimes joining a tour is still just the most practical or sometimes only way to go where you'd like to. If you pick a tour at the lower end of the price range, like the one described here, be prepared to spend much time around sunset and sunrise doing chores instead of exploring and taking photos. Going on a pricier tour will leave you with more time on your own. There's also the option of not booking ahead, but instead just go to Nairobi and Arusha and book your tour from there. You will get "better" (as in more comfortable lodging, better food and at a slower pace) tours there at the same or even lower rates than what I paid for the Exodus trip. <br />
<br />
These are the main issues I had with the tour: <br />
<br />
<b>Morning procedures</b><br />
Early morning is the best time for watching wildlife. You get up, you have a cup of hot tea or chocolate, and then you go out to see the animals before the sun rises and makes them go sleep in the shade. We wasted most of our mornings on eating and doing chores instead. <br />
<br />
<b>Safari guiding</b><br />
While our guide was fairly good at identifying the animals we saw, he was not at all enthusiastic about it and only sparingly offered any information about the wildlife. As I was having exciting wildlife experiences, he managed to fall asleep and not participate in the animal spotting at all. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_ptHTG7-AF4/UMPB5BrI6nI/AAAAAAAAAnw/rczYkQzEZO0/s1600/DSC07681SerengetiJuliusSoverv2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_ptHTG7-AF4/UMPB5BrI6nI/AAAAAAAAAnw/rczYkQzEZO0/s1600/DSC07681SerengetiJuliusSoverv2.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Julius!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I can understand him being tired, he told us that he had been on another tour lasting up until the day before we started out, and the day after we were dropped off in Nairobi he was off again on a trip to Uganda. I put the blame for this on Exodus. The weariness and lack of enthusiasm from a guide can easily infect the people on the trip. <br />
<br />
<b>Photography </b><br />
Exodus do offer special tours for photographers, but this wasn't one of them. Still, our driver and our guide were really bad at positioning the vehicle for optimal photographies. If that's important for you, you probably want to seek out a different trip. <br />
<br />
<b>Fear mongering regarding the animals</b><br />
I've already mentioned the lack of quality information regarding the wildlife. The one thing we had more than enough of, however, were statements about how dangerous the animals are. I've been on many safaris, and I have never heard such exaggerated warnings from the tour guide about what we should absolutely not do, because then this or that animal would come and hurt or kill us.<br />
<br />
That's just not fair on the animals.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC08198NgorongoroZebraeneKommer.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC08198NgorongoroZebraeneKommer.JPG" height="316" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mostly harmless</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<b>Fear mongering regarding the people</b><br />
We were repeatedly warned against the risk of thieves and stone throwers. I've traveled quite a bit in Africa, and I think I know what dangers encounters with the locals can involve, and it's nowhere near as bad as what we were told on this trip. The result? Most of the people on our tour talked only to the others on the truck. I feel they missed out. We were rarely given opportunities to interact with Africans, instead we were encouraged to stay in the camp and never leave the vicinity of the truck.<br />
<br />
That's just not fair on the people. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC07013MaraGjeterIProfil.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC07013MaraGjeterIProfil.JPG" height="488" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Definitely harmless</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<b>Mismatch between itinerary and reality</b><br />
I read the itinerary with optimistic eyes, so my hopes were crushed a few times. Most of the optional activities were just impossible to find enough time for. <br />
<br />
<b>Financial guiding</b><br />
Exodus emphasizes that they aim to operate in a responsible manner. In my opinion, that should include informing their clients about roughly how much they should spend on various items, instead of just dropping people off into hoards of people out only to maximize money drainage from tourists. At least on this tour there was none of that. Quite the opposite happened, actually. We were invariably advised to shop at places that were much more expensive than neighbouring shops.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC07755SerengetiAfrikanskSol.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/simba/images/DSC07755SerengetiAfrikanskSol.JPG" height="330" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Closing time</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In the end, however, I did get to see lots of great stuff on this trip. Although I just know it could have been even better, I won't grumble more about than I have done now. Thank you for bearing with me. <br />
<br />
I'd love to read your experience from this or similar tours, so go ahead and make your comments below!<br />
<br />
Happy trails! #8D)Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-87492716358067441492012-08-14T11:25:00.000+02:002012-08-14T11:25:20.031+02:00What Kenya do?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After having watched this brilliant piece of convincing journalism, sponsored by the Kenyan Tourist Elimination Bureau, I've decided to go to Eastern Africa:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LtWVrwb8I2E?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
Their main point seems to be that Kenya isn't Norway, which is great. I've been in Norway for 6 weeks now, and all the country can offer me is a job, pleasant temperatures and whining locals. This is not good enough in 2012, richest country in the world!!1!<br />
<br />
I've done a lot of research on Africa, so I know exactly what I'm in for. The only slight problem is that I am going to Africa together with <b>this:</b><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/dBlOpfT0dBs?rel=0" width="420"></iframe> <b></b><br />
(Transcript: "There are a lot of ants here. Waaaah! I just realized I'm sitting almost in a spider web!")<br />
<br />
Fortunately, the movie was recorded before I met this person. I do believe I have taught her well, so this might work out still.<br />
<br />
First we're going to live on a farm for four days, in a safe distance from Nairobi. As the farm (<a href="http://swaraplains.com/">http://swaraplains.com/</a>) is huge, 81 square kilometres, and the bush is full of cheetahs, I'm pretty sure we'll be able to pass the time there. Most of the time we'll just be walking around, on our own. We can do this, because supposedly there are no lions, rhinos, elephants or buffalo there, so the chance of being eaten or trampled is manageable. They <b>do</b> have ants, though, which may be a problem for someone who isn't me. <br />
<br />
Then we'll be going on a tour of the main national parks of Kenya and Tanzania. The full probably itinerary is at <a href="http://www.exodus.co.uk/holidays/aqw/itinerary">http://www.exodus.co.uk/holidays/aqw/itinerary</a> if you want to see it, but the short version is sufficient to me: Masai Mara, Nakuru, Serengeti, Ngorongoro og Amboseli. Woohoo! (That last one isn't one of the places, but my little cry of pleasure.)<br />
<br />
As a bonus, on our way home we grab another country, Qatar, where we'll walk around for a full day mumbling something about crazy rich people.<br />
<br />
I intended to blog about my pilgrimage through Italy this summer, but due to no miracle providing me with more time, that will have to wait. (Shame on You, oh Lord!) The photos, however, are ready for you to see, so do have a go at <a href="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/via/">http://www.pvv.org/~bct/via/</a> and see how many you can manage before needing a break.<br />
<br />
I bet there's plenty of broadband Internet connection to be found in Africa, so there will probably be lots and lots of blog entries here shortly.<br />
<br />
Cowabunga! (Swahili for goodbye for now, I think.) </div>
Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-43952463613564704492012-06-09T14:20:00.001+02:002012-06-09T14:23:38.079+02:00A Way That Leads to Rome<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Two years ago I walked the Camino de Santiago, an 800 kilometer pilgrimage from France through Spain, and it was a great experience. Although being a fairly strenuous hike, I felt stronger every day, I got to see daily life play out in small places I had never heard about before, and at the end of the journey a strong feeling of accomplishment was my reward. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/camino/images/DSC11187OrbigoMorgenvandring.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="337" src="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/camino/images/DSC11187OrbigoMorgenvandring.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm still a devoted atheist, but now I'll be going out on a Holy Walk again. On Sunday I'll fly to Milan. Monday morning I'll continue on the train to Fidenza. There I'll get my credencial, a pilgrim passport, and then I'll get going on Via Francigena, the old route from Canterbury to Rome, where there are still some 600-700 kilometers left of it. It's soon time to prepare the tea, Pope! I'm coming your way!<br />
<br />
As far as loading up an iPad with podcasts counts as preparations, I'm well prepared for this walk. The beginning of my journey will at least be easier than the previous one was. The last thing I did before leaving from home to walk the Camino was to run a half marathon in Oslo. <br />
<br />
Also, this time I won't have to start by hiking across the Pyrenées. I've had a look at the map, and this looks like a nice and easy walk, although it may be a hot one. I'll be walking through Lombardy, Parma, Emilia-Romagna, Liguria, Tuscany and Lazio, all the way to Rome. You can easily put " Ham" behind all of those, and that bodes well. Apart from the names of the regions, I don't really know where I'm going. I do, however, look forward to observing everyday life in Poggibonsi, which is the funniest-sounding place I've discovered on the map so far. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-egvLZGawT-E/T9Mwxp3tbYI/AAAAAAAAAhI/1AeU1uLeoJM/s1600/via.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-egvLZGawT-E/T9Mwxp3tbYI/AAAAAAAAAhI/1AeU1uLeoJM/s640/via.png" width="492" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm somewhere around here!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Via Francigena doesn't have all the facilities of the Camino de Santiago, so I may be sleeping outside a bit more than usual this time. Which may be a good idea anyway, with all the earthquakes in Italy lately. <br />
<br />
However, the Italians would love to have more visitors come for a walk and to spend some money there, and I've found a couple of places along the way where they're actually competing in showing the most hospitality towards pilgrims this summer. Someone here at home is a bit worried the Italians may be a bit TOO friendly towards me. She has decided to remedy that by giving me a good, old, home-made haircut before she'll let me leave. <br />
<br />
I'll be bringing a hat. <br />
<br />
With a bit of luck, I may find some Internet along the way. If so, you'll be hearing from whatever is left of me by then. (I don't expect to gain much weight this summer.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Hallelujah.</div>Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-88650568904793673912012-06-01T11:28:00.001+02:002012-06-04T11:50:35.295+02:00Like a Lazy Whirlwind Through Ireland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The last you heard from me was that I plotted my next escape from arguably the best country in the world to live in. I ended up going to Ireland. I've long since returned home, but while the <a href="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/eire/">photos from the trip</a>
are right where they should be, the tale of my journey has been missing. Until now. Here it is. <br />
<br />
Short version: I had a great time, although I did acquire a bit of a sunburn while having four sharks circling me. Enough to tickle your curiosity? If so, hang on for the unabridged version below. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SofYvAmo30E/T8eOT7PTytI/AAAAAAAAAfE/lKVV6p7nCkY/s1600/DSC08215DublinTanneteKenguru.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="552" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SofYvAmo30E/T8eOT7PTytI/AAAAAAAAAfE/lKVV6p7nCkY/s640/DSC08215DublinTanneteKenguru.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Gidday! What's going on here?!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The deal this time was that just as I was leaving work for a month, I discovered that the weather forecast for Ireland was an extremely rare two weeks of sun! A day or so later I was on a plane to Dublin, where I landed in the middle of the Saint Patrick's Day celebrations. <br />
<br />
As usual, I skipped the beer and shouting part and visited the National Museum of Natural History instead. It claimed to have just reopened after some major refurbishing, but there were no Furbies on display, and if they really had tried to fix up the exhibits a bit, I would be very interested to see photos of what the place looked like before they started. I've never seen a worse-looking large collection of antique works of taxidermy. Here are some examples for you:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HYXZf97s1Yw/T8eNpn8V3EI/AAAAAAAAAe8/goJZzwStd-I/s1600/dyrecollage.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="472" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HYXZf97s1Yw/T8eNpn8V3EI/AAAAAAAAAe8/goJZzwStd-I/s640/dyrecollage.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clockwise, starting in the upper left corner: a frying pan monkey, a penis ape, a button-nosed rabbit, <br />
a yellow-eyed fnuff and a flying flashing rat.I bet you didn't even know they existed. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I heard a little girl ask her father if the specimen she was looking at was a giraffe, a kangaroo or a bat, and frankly I was wondering the same myself. "Let's go get some ice-cream", he suggested. Smart man.<br />
<br />
As soon as I could find a sober bus driver after the national holiday, I went west, to Cashel. It's a small town, but strange things happen even in small places. In this case, the strange thing was that I was locked up by someone, and the police had to come and rescue me. Of course, usually it's the other way around. Like in the case of Robin Hood. But that was in England, and Ireland is anything but England.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I was being a good tourist, entering the town's visitor center to ask where I might rent a bike. There was a line, which I don't like much, so I went to another room to have a look at the temporary exhibition "Stuff written by fifth graders about boring local history". Just as I was about to fall asleep, I pulled out of it and went back to see whether the line was gone.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/eire/images/DSC08400CashelOopsInnelaast.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="465" src="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/eire/images/DSC08400CashelOopsInnelaast.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entirely captivated, Wallace and Grommit style.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It was. And so was the woman that had been servicing it. "That's funny", I thought, in a not amused way. The front doors were locked. So was the back door. And the windows. I found a phone behind the counter and called all my friends in Australia, before I finally called the police and explained that if anyone had reported a burglar in the visitor center, that was not the case, and could they please come and get me. <br />
<br />
The oldest policeman in Ireland was dispatched, the guy that is so beyond useful that he can't even help cats down from trees anymore. He had some special gear and started working his magic on the locks, but he only managed to unlock one of the two locks on the door. Eventually some special unit for stupid tourist incidents had managed to locate the woman that had locked me up, and brought her to get me out of there. <br />
<br />
I know the Irish have a reputation for being endowed with much red hair and freckles, but I've never seen anyone anywhere look as red as that woman. And she didn't even have red hair or freckles.<br />
<br />
Apart from that, or to be honest actually including that, I quite enjoyed Cashel. It's a small town, where you can't really sing "It's a long way to Tipperary" and mean it. Tipperary is literally next door. At the local fast food shop I found out what melodies the locals like to listen to instead. Here's the top 10 list from the jukebox:<br />
<br />
1.
Galway Girl, featuring Sharon Shannon. She plays the fiddle and the accordion, and her other big hit is "What You Make It (da, da, da, da)". I'm sure she's a very talented woman. <br />
<br />
2. The Gambler (Kenny Rogers). Winning the Lotto has been the most likely way to make any decent money in Ireland lately. <br />
<br />
3.
Crazy World (Aslan). A sad song for tough times. It's a long song, so you get a lot of music for your money with this one. Not made by a lion, despite the name of the band. <br />
<br />
4. Fisherman's Blues (Waterboys). A tale about the kind of people who at least can get their food straight from the sea, even when they can't afford to get it from the shop any longer. <br />
<br />
5. Sweet Child O' Mine (Guns N' Roses). Somewhat disturbing in a Catholic country, if you ask me. <br />
<br />
6. Down Under (Men At Work). Obvious choice, now that half of Ireland (the young ones) are considering leaving for Australia to find work. <br />
<br />
7.
A Nation Once Again (Wolfe Tones). Close enough to the national anthem of Ireland, written in 1840 and continuously being covered by every band of any importance as the times go by. <br />
<br />
8. Apologize (Timbaland). What? An actual pop song on the list? Wow!<br />
<br />
9. Big Girl - You Are Beautiful (Mika). Motivational music written especially with fast food outlets in mind. <br />
<br />
10. Heaven (Bryan Adams). There are many believers around here. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kLfvspdT1NY/T8ePSkSHrTI/AAAAAAAAAfU/aEgfF__p-pM/s1600/DSC08474CashelBeboernePaaGaarden.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="433" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kLfvspdT1NY/T8ePSkSHrTI/AAAAAAAAAfU/aEgfF__p-pM/s640/DSC08474CashelBeboernePaaGaarden.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celtic crosses are slightly better-looking and more mossy than most other crosses. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Or are there? After all the scandals with sexual abuse of children within the Catholic Church of Ireland (and elsewhere) lately, religion in Ireland has taken a heavy hit. But in Cashel the old churches and graves are still standing proud, as beautiful and useless as ever. <br />
<br />
I moved on to Cork. It's just the second largest city in the country, but thanks to its many students, I'm pretty sure they drink even more alcohol per capita there than they do in Dublin. And they've got the nation's tallest building that isn't a church, "The Idle Tower".<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5che7iZJumY/T8eOucRTNnI/AAAAAAAAAfM/mdPlEsxKnA8/s1600/DSC08928CorkTheIdleTower.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5che7iZJumY/T8eOucRTNnI/AAAAAAAAAfM/mdPlEsxKnA8/s640/DSC08928CorkTheIdleTower.png" width="416" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Irish luxury skyscraper in an otherwise run-down neighbourhood.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The buildings real name is "The Elysian", and it was originally intended as the most prestigeous apartment building in Gingerland. Then the financial crisis came and toppled the project. Now the place is 99 % done, but close enough to still being empty. Only the parking lots in the lower floors seemed to be in use. But the Irish sense of humour lives on in building's nickname.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yuj84Pu03zQ/T8ePlswUxzI/AAAAAAAAAfc/Cozls3aSezU/s1600/DSC08821CobhWestView.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="475" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yuj84Pu03zQ/T8ePlswUxzI/AAAAAAAAAfc/Cozls3aSezU/s640/DSC08821CobhWestView.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cramped and old, but the cutest street in Cobh.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Cobh is a lot cozier. It's a suburb of Cork, located closer to the ocean. It was from here that the Titanic left on her first and last attempt at crossing the Atlantic. Since then, all they've been doing in Cobh is to try and maintain their way too large cathedral and to build various Titanic museums.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4dryQ4MbUqw/T8eP67YNaLI/AAAAAAAAAfk/6CIZzv3W0eE/s1600/DSC08770CobhKatedralenFraTitanicpark.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4dryQ4MbUqw/T8eP67YNaLI/AAAAAAAAAfk/6CIZzv3W0eE/s640/DSC08770CobhKatedralenFraTitanicpark.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cathedral completely dominates the small town of Cobh.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I particularly enjoyed the exhibition where seasickness was emphasized. Several scenes showed people who were pretty green in their faces and/or had their heads buried in buckets semi-filled with some yellow-brownish goo probably containing a considerable amount of stomach acid. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8_D5znvQLRo/T8eQeRB3f2I/AAAAAAAAAfs/3w7tnb2Do74/s1600/DSC08851CobhNotAtAllWell.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="488" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8_D5znvQLRo/T8eQeRB3f2I/AAAAAAAAAfs/3w7tnb2Do74/s640/DSC08851CobhNotAtAllWell.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Intriguing details!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The Butter Museum in Cork, which actually is a place that exists, can safely be ignored, though. <br />
<br />
By now I was done with the city life, so I moved on to Killarney. "Poor Arney!", you may think, but there's no reason to worry. By Irish standards, Killarney isn't even a slightly strange name for a place. Here are a few other ones: <br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Kilbarrack: I reckon the CIA must be paying attention to this place. </li>
<li>Kilbride: Probably not the most popular destination for honeymooners. </li>
<li>Graiguenamanagh: A desperate attempt to sound like a place where exclusive whisky is distilled. </li>
<li>Artfart: Oooh! Fancy!</li>
<li>Skibbereen: There just has to be lots of sailors living there. </li>
<li>Knocknadobar: I'm guessing there's a rough bar there somewhere. </li>
<li>Gap of Dunloe: I'm pretty sure that's a place in Midgard, with lots of Orcs in it. </li>
<li>Letterfrack: Also known as Envelope?</li>
<li>Doon Well: No one's ever caught food poisoning there, I bet. </li>
</ul>
I could have gone on and on. Knock. Bloody Foreland. Muff. Clones. Sally's Gap. Gortahork...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eBczHYZsKrM/T8eRA5DYpFI/AAAAAAAAAf0/c5_1tYr5jcc/s1600/DSC09006KillaLysUnderSkyene.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="368" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eBczHYZsKrM/T8eRA5DYpFI/AAAAAAAAAf0/c5_1tYr5jcc/s640/DSC09006KillaLysUnderSkyene.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dusk by one of the lakes near Killarney.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But let's stick to Killarney for now. It's a place for walks in the forest and along the lakes and for hiking in the mountains, enjoying a landscape that at its best reminds me quite a lot about my own Norway. I had no problems at all imagining trolls having just run off to their hiding places every time I turned a bend on the trail through the forest.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rstMQPVQ_iA/T8eRV1hlZdI/AAAAAAAAAf8/Kh1crEHp6po/s1600/DSC09084KillaGandalfRundtSvingen.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="460" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rstMQPVQ_iA/T8eRV1hlZdI/AAAAAAAAAf8/Kh1crEHp6po/s640/DSC09084KillaGandalfRundtSvingen.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome to the Shire!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
What you need to look out for in Killarney are the sly guys with bikes for rent. "Here, take this bicycle, it's brand new, you'll never have any problem with it", they say. Then you bike for 20 kilometres into the wilderness, you have a puncture, and you realize that the only thing to do is to walk your bike another 20 kilometres along the route you had planned back to town. When you return to the rental place, the guys there suddenly say "Oh, you were going to actually use the bike outside the town. Ah, yes, roughly half of our customers who do that experience experience a puncture. Ha-ha." And then you feel a little bit stupid and fooled, but mostly just really, really tired.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IbhvLbAhXGg/T8eRm2h5QcI/AAAAAAAAAgE/ZaiVArnakgI/s1600/DSC09262KillaDramatiskIDunloe.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IbhvLbAhXGg/T8eRm2h5QcI/AAAAAAAAAgE/ZaiVArnakgI/s640/DSC09262KillaDramatiskIDunloe.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't brace yourself, there's no storm coming, it's just the weather posing dramatically for me. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Still, I'd love to go up there again, but not without a pump and a mending kit for the bike. Or even better; get someone to drive you to Kate Kearney's Cottage and then hike the 25-30 kilometres from there across the mountains and along the lakes, with great chances for hitching a ride the last 10 kilometres or so to Killarney. In nice weather, that's pretty much a perfect day trip, I imagine.<br />
<br />
<br />
Having worn myself out in the Irish mountains, I decided to return to the coast. There are several fingers of land stretching west towards America from Killarney, and I chose the Dingle one. Mostly by random, but also a little bit because it's the one the leads to the westernmost point of "mainland" Ireland. Also, it's got Fungie, an amazingly friendly wild dolphin that has been living on the Dingle waterfront for more than a quarter of a century now, so there's probably little time left to see him now.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_XxIxdQtF1I/T8eR9jo-ULI/AAAAAAAAAgM/ln6ebp4UDqs/s1600/DSC09443DingleVannetKommer.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="473" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_XxIxdQtF1I/T8eR9jo-ULI/AAAAAAAAAgM/ln6ebp4UDqs/s640/DSC09443DingleVannetKommer.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you turn off the main road on Dingle, you'll almost always end up on a beach like this. Bliss. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Again I ventured out on a bicycle, this time fortunately with no incidents. It's a beautiful ride, doing the Slea Head Drive, a loop starting and ending in Dingle via the westernmost extremity of Ireland.<br />
<br />
This early in the year there weren't many other tourists around, but I cherished the ones I saw. Few things can make me more happy than having a whole day at my disposal to enjoy great scenery at my own pace. My happiness is even further enhanced when on a day like that, I encounter a busload of people looking longingly out at me from behind bus windows, obviously wishing they could trade places with me.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d8SuJLSE9Zg/T8eSNjNI8bI/AAAAAAAAAgU/N_e51NSQjlk/s1600/DSC09563DingleNoKjemKyra.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="492" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d8SuJLSE9Zg/T8eSNjNI8bI/AAAAAAAAAgU/N_e51NSQjlk/s640/DSC09563DingleNoKjemKyra.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cool mammal, the bravest in its herd. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
You need to take your time when you visit the Dingle Peninsula. The scenic views just keep on coming at you, and the road is generally so narrow that if you're in a car, there are just a tiny number of places where you can actually stop for long enough to get out and enjoy the views. If you go there, make sure to include an overnight stay or two. Incredibly, you can visit on a day trip from Dublin, but going on a trip like that is only good for inducing gastric ulcers.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zwMTXJYf8TY/T8eSbmLQXpI/AAAAAAAAAgc/6DOQ6i0XnrI/s1600/DSC09696DingleBoelgerFraAmerika.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="448" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zwMTXJYf8TY/T8eSbmLQXpI/AAAAAAAAAgc/6DOQ6i0XnrI/s640/DSC09696DingleBoelgerFraAmerika.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is it lovely or is it lovely?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Two buses with a half-day pause between them in Limerick let me move on to Doolin.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_5thhVAanOg/T8eSudiPbqI/AAAAAAAAAgk/MqrnbXVr7ew/s1600/DSC09942LimerickPaaKirsebaertur.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="548" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_5thhVAanOg/T8eSudiPbqI/AAAAAAAAAgk/MqrnbXVr7ew/s640/DSC09942LimerickPaaKirsebaertur.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Retirees and a cherry tree in Limerick. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Doolin is almost nonexistent. There's one street, Fisher Street, with buildings only on the north side of it, with a hostel, two pubs and a couple of knitwear stores where you can buy an emergency wooly sweater if you need it. Which you often do in Doolin, I imagine. But the thing Doolin has going for it, is that it's a great place to start walking. You can go north-east, towards the peculiar rocky landscape of the Burren, or you can go southwest, towards the Cliffs of Moher. I did the latter, and rarely have I seen cliffs as beautiful as them anywhere else in the world. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vAKsqzCtOB0/T8eTKtzKFcI/AAAAAAAAAgs/t5e3bBgyq_w/s1600/DSC12694MoherLittPaaKanten.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="408" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vAKsqzCtOB0/T8eTKtzKFcI/AAAAAAAAAgs/t5e3bBgyq_w/s640/DSC12694MoherLittPaaKanten.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happiness.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Just walk along the edge, only as far away from the precipice as you must to feel comfortable. The wonders will gradually reveal themselves for you with ever increasing intensity. On your way you will meet huge numbers of oystercatchers, murres and the cutest puffins. The density of cows and sheep means crazy numbers of manure flies as well, but on the edge of the cliffs the wind is usually strong enough that they just blow past you without bothering you too much. As long as you manage to keep your mouth shut, that is. But do keep your eyes open! There are already sufficiently many crosses and plaques along the trail, put up in memory of those who have fallen off the cliffs or drowned at sea there. <br />
<br />
If it's a good day, you may be lucky enough to see some insane surfers play in the ginormous waves just off the cliffs. I saw them, but I counted myself even luckier when a little while later, four basking sharks, the second largest fish on the planet, showed up with their huge white mouths, "grazing" for plankton. I spent a long time just sitting there and enjoying the rare show. That's the spirit, Nature!<br />
<br />
Pretty high on scenery and wildlife, my time in Ireland had run out. I had to head back to Dublin to catch my plane home. Thanks to free wifi on the Galway-Dublin express bus, that took no time at all. <br />
<br />
<br />
In conclusion, my opinion is that Ireland is a country where you can travel for weeks and weeks, and if you go, make sure to bring your best walking shoes. Dublin and Cork can have two or three days each, but the highlights of Ireland are mainly found along the west coast, in places with strange names you have never heard and that you could never have come up with yourself. Just try, and you'll see that I speak the truth. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AwbGaPBkG9I/T8eTZ4gsfzI/AAAAAAAAAg0/sSF23yltaTA/s1600/DSC12864DublinBussbyenDublin.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AwbGaPBkG9I/T8eTZ4gsfzI/AAAAAAAAAg0/sSF23yltaTA/s640/DSC12864DublinBussbyenDublin.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just another morning in Dublin </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Fun fact: To travel between the Dublin city center and the airport, you have to go on bus 747. On the photo above, you can see what it looks like from the front seat of the top deck of that very bus as it takes you up the iconic O'Connell Street.<br />
<br />
Since returning home I've been working quite a lot, but I'm soon to head out on another journey. Check back here, and I'll soon reveal to you where I'm going. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XJIx5x0SOXg/T8eTpLAZ6yI/AAAAAAAAAg8/DK8ErweirmM/s1600/DSC09515DingleStengtISouvenirsjappa.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="436" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XJIx5x0SOXg/T8eTpLAZ6yI/AAAAAAAAAg8/DK8ErweirmM/s640/DSC09515DingleStengtISouvenirsjappa.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'll be back. <br />
(Stolen from a Dingle shop window.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0Ireland53.41291 -8.2438950.9899925 -13.297601 55.835827499999994 -3.1901790000000005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-40802302154306605402012-03-13T22:12:00.001+01:002012-06-01T11:33:51.618+02:00High Tea and Low Land<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Following a Norwegian Christmas, my companion and I escaped the country. A cheap last minute ticket to Thailand is a great starting point for many adventures, and fortunately not necessarily the kind that includes ladyboys and women that can lay eggs. As soon as we arrived in Phuket, we got on a southbound bus, we were going to Malaysia.<br />
<br />
<br />
At the border they were reluctant to let us leave the country. "You come Thailand today, you go Thailand today, no good!", he said with no satisfaction. I was impressed by how he managed to avoid the letter "r", and I promised to return to Thailand velly soon.<br />
<br />
Our plan was to start in the old colonial city of Penang/Georgetown. It was a great plan, but it was crushed when the bus whooshed past it without even slowing down. We seemed to be on a bus of the kind known from the movie Speed. You know, if the speed drops below 50 miles per hour the whole thing will explode. Just as we entered Kuala Lumpur the danger seemed to have disappeared, and we were allowed to leave the bus there.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/masi/images/DSC05521KLFinfinTitiwangsa.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/masi/images/DSC05521KLFinfinTitiwangsa.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Landmarks of Kuala Lumpur</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It's not exactly a nice city, but if you're tired of living, the place offers great opportunities for being run over by cars. We just went here and there and saw the Petronas Towers from every possible angle. There are only a few places in KL where you cannot see the towers, the tallest buildings in the world between 1998 and 2004.<br />
<br />
<br />
We celebrated New Year's Eve in Kuala Lumpur. Malaysia has enough Muslims to avoid any drunk people in the streets, but that didn't stop the locals from behaving like ADHD children. They ran around all over, dancing and screaming and covering each other with artifical snow and shaving foam, depending on what they had been able to acquire. Despite all the whiteness, it didn't evoke any feeling of winter in me, but soon the whole city centre reeked of aloe vera and male perfume.<br />
<br />
To get some <b>real </b>fresh air, we headed for the mountains in the north of Malaysia. In the 1920s, the British found a region here that was perfect for growing tea and cooling down sunburns. Thanks to the English practice of recycling names of places, the Scottish Cameron Highlands soon got a namesake in Asia. Today the area is still great for relaxation, and you can enjoy fresh tea and strawberries here, straight from the fields. The road leading there can be hard on your supply of travel sickness bags, but it's all well worth it. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/masi/images/DSC05855CameronHobbitHomeland.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="195" src="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/masi/images/DSC05855CameronHobbitHomeland.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tea all over the place</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Satisfied by the tea and the scenery, we moved on to Malacca. It's a great place to rest before you enter the busy metropolis of Singapore. The heritage from European colonial powers is visible in the streets and in the people living there today. The city has a fair number of artists, creating everything from amazingly detailed Chinese temples to elaborate graffiti pieces decorating the walls along the river walk. Do not miss it!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/masi/images/DSC06638MalaccaKvinneBakBusk.JPG"><img border="0" height="307" src="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/masi/images/DSC06638MalaccaKvinneBakBusk.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Malaysian graffiti</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The Cameron Highlands was the definite highlight of this trip to me, but in theory there's no doubt that Singapore has the most attractions to tourists traveling on and near the Malaysian Peninsula. The atmosphere is futuristic. Ok, the escalator in the park and the five-storey Whopper at Burger King can not exactly be classified as progress, but there are some ingenious details and solutions that only an intense government like the one in Singapore can help along. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/masi/images/DSC07218UbinToetasjesSykkelparkering.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="258" src="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/masi/images/DSC07218UbinToetasjesSykkelparkering.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amazing bicycle parking technology!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The ultimate treat is still going to the Singapore Zoo. They sure know how to do it. No other major zoo manages to offer its visitors close encounters to the degree that this one does. (Some smaller ones do it even better, but they all have much fewer visitors and a less spectacular range of species.)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/masi/images/DSC06957SingaPortraitOfALemur.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="328" src="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/masi/images/DSC06957SingaPortraitOfALemur.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lemur that is slightly annoyed by this very paparazzi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If you'd like to see more of the creatures and places we visited, do click yourself into the <a href="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/masi/" target="_blank">brand new wing of my gallery</a>. <br />
<br />
<br />
I have a couple more photo journals from some of my trips in 2011 coming up, but I'm also tempted to get on the road again rather than sit down and edit more photos right now. My Easter holiday has already begun, and as soon as I find a suitably priced ticket, I'll probably be traveling again.<br />
<br />
<br />
To where? I don't know, but check in here every now and then, and I'll keep you updated. #8D)<br />
<br />
Bjørn</div>Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-87928222904247341742011-12-15T22:08:00.000+01:002012-06-01T11:36:04.270+02:00Christmas Fashion Bashin' in Milan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As you may have figured out by now, I'm up for any kind of strange travel challenge. This time it turned out to be a short weekend escape to a major European city. So, I still would prefer a month roaming quiet trails and villages in some faraway land, but this was nice, too.<br />
<br />
<br />
Our destination is a city that once upon a time was the capital of the Western Roman Empire and home of the Pope, which probably is the reason why the "one way" street signs look like this there: <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zaABY2oLPys/TunnsbWodpI/AAAAAAAAAXk/kinvmROeagk/s1600/DSC04302MilanoASignFromAbove.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zaABY2oLPys/TunnsbWodpI/AAAAAAAAAXk/kinvmROeagk/s400/DSC04302MilanoASignFromAbove.JPG" width="397" /></a></div>
Well, at least one of them does, anyway. If you read the title of this blog entry, you already know that we're in Milan.What do we know about Milan? Chiefly that it's a popular name for pizza restaurants. Or rather for take-away pizza places that have not yet been shut down for sanitary reasons. And then there's the capital of fashion thing, of course. <br />
<br />
<br />
Were we right? Let's see.<br />
<br />
<br />
The first thing we do is to turn on our GPS and use multi-billion dollar military defense satellites to hunt down small plastic boxes filled with trinkets and toys. We're going geocaching. Look it up at geocaching.com if you're interested.<br />
<br />
<br />
While we won't find any proper treasures inside the geocaches, the places where they are hidden are often well worth the visit. Even in busy and noisy cities you'll often end up in a tranquil oasis, where suspicious and frantic searches for camouflaged Tupperware won't attract as much attention as it would have near an embassy or the parliament. <br />
<br />
<br />
Our first stop is a charming park that until twenty years used to be a zoo where all the animals suffered in bad conditions. In this pond they may have kept their crocodiles and sea monsters, for all we know. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ReN_6BBztFQ/Tunnn3pb5EI/AAAAAAAAAXg/pgdtlYo1mj4/s1600/DSC04311MilanoParkFoerJul.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ReN_6BBztFQ/Tunnn3pb5EI/AAAAAAAAAXg/pgdtlYo1mj4/s400/DSC04311MilanoParkFoerJul.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
The next cache brings us to a forgotten shrine to celebrities. Outside an anonymous office building that used to house an Italian gossip magazine a number of famous people, mainly from the 1990's, have left their hand prints and signature in the concrete pavement. Now the magazine is no more, and most of the names here can also be found on headstones in cemeteries all over the world. At least I learned that I have larger hands than Shannen Doherty. Imagine that!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vlx6DYGMU_M/Tunn5K9DyvI/AAAAAAAAAX4/s8MEGuAaq_4/s1600/DSC04317MilanoKjerstiInspisererSignaturer.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vlx6DYGMU_M/Tunn5K9DyvI/AAAAAAAAAX4/s8MEGuAaq_4/s400/DSC04317MilanoKjerstiInspisererSignaturer.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
This is what the Milano Stock Exchange looks like. It's an impressive building, but all attention here is stolen by the large sculpture in the middle of the square. It's made by a famous Italian contemporary artist, who donated the sculpture to the city on one condition: The sculpture must be kept at exactly this location for a while. Does it symbolize that the people inside the stock exchange are flipping the finger to the rest of the world with all their financial wizardry? Not at all, says the artist smugly. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hWefuqeek1o/Tunn69BsUII/AAAAAAAAAX8/JVKBEj2Io9k/s1600/DSC04327MilanoSelvesteBoersen.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hWefuqeek1o/Tunn69BsUII/AAAAAAAAAX8/JVKBEj2Io9k/s400/DSC04327MilanoSelvesteBoersen.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Midwinter Milan is often a fairly foggy spot. The days look grey and sad, but that just gives the evenings an opportunity to look particularly inviting under artificial lighting in the parks. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3YhavZa8u2w/Tunn9wLOkkI/AAAAAAAAAYA/idE8gd05mTY/s1600/DSC04409MilanoGullkveld.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3YhavZa8u2w/Tunn9wLOkkI/AAAAAAAAAYA/idE8gd05mTY/s400/DSC04409MilanoGullkveld.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Enough about exploring Milan. Let's talk about what we didn't come for: SHOPPING!<br />
<br />
<br />
This is what a typical Milan boutique looks like. There are few or none customers inside. The only people there are employees on watch, waiting for a brave soul to enter the premises. If someone should be unfortunate enough to do so, they will immediately be attacked by the sales people, and they won't release their victim until every piece of plastic he or she is carrying has been used to its limits.<br />
<br />
To lure in customers, the most blingy products in the shop have been put on display as nicely as possible, and a small, hand-written note in the corner reveals the crazy prices of everything in the window. Except this Christmas tree, which isn't for sale. Actually, I'm not sure there's a Christmas tree there. It may well be just a huge pile of Christmas decorations. That's what it looks like close-up, at least. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IoXH7bHQ4iA/TunnujN1mnI/AAAAAAAAAXo/8MJgmIo88hA/s1600/DSC04412MilanoMotejuletre.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IoXH7bHQ4iA/TunnujN1mnI/AAAAAAAAAXo/8MJgmIo88hA/s400/DSC04412MilanoMotejuletre.JPG" width="280" /></a></div>
<br />
Milan is famous for its cathedral. It's great in every way, but it just doesn't cut it when you compare the lavishness with what you find just next door, at the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II shopping center. You could easily walk your elephant here, even if it was carried on a shield by four giant turtles. You're looking at the center of the place, with an incredibly high ceiling, and one of four long arms of posh shops stretching out to the surrounding streets. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nzhdLebnN08/TunnwQeNnnI/AAAAAAAAAXs/ZFWs6XdUQnI/s1600/DSC04415MilanoDoedsstjernaKjoepesenter.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nzhdLebnN08/TunnwQeNnnI/AAAAAAAAAXs/ZFWs6XdUQnI/s400/DSC04415MilanoDoedsstjernaKjoepesenter.JPG" width="223" /></a></div>
<br />
This year, Dolce Gabbana is trying out an alternative Christmas market. They've mixed their bling-bling purses and shoes with walnuts and dades. Strange idea. I don't see anyone buying anything here.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zkUfpzJpvCY/TunnzjbFKaI/AAAAAAAAAXw/GvdSXWaWKCw/s1600/DSC04451MilanoDGValnoettOgBling.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="346" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zkUfpzJpvCY/TunnzjbFKaI/AAAAAAAAAXw/GvdSXWaWKCw/s400/DSC04451MilanoDGValnoettOgBling.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
At Vivienne Westwood's, they're going for a more traditional style, making everything glittering and sparkly. I wonder what the label says about how this garment should be cleaned? Maybe you can just use baking soda and tooth paste, like you would do with your silverware?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QHPqUmGuJS0/Tunn3TeMbEI/AAAAAAAAAX0/rGsHhkEHjAU/s1600/DSC04455MilanoWestwoodveske.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="325" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QHPqUmGuJS0/Tunn3TeMbEI/AAAAAAAAAX0/rGsHhkEHjAU/s400/DSC04455MilanoWestwoodveske.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Ah! At last, an honest shop owner. He couldn't be bothered to wait any longer for the customers who never appeared, so he went off to get a bit of an artificial tan. Lots of people in Milan do this. I kept meeting fake-tanned people with lots of make-up and wearing the weirdest of garments. First I thought it was just a guy that followed me around, but soon I realized that it was just a bunch of people living up to the exact same fashion ideals. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GnIfHfn4yBs/Tunn_iXFG5I/AAAAAAAAAYE/huAuZbHdhmA/s1600/DSC04550MilanoGodUnnskyldning.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GnIfHfn4yBs/Tunn_iXFG5I/AAAAAAAAAYE/huAuZbHdhmA/s400/DSC04550MilanoGodUnnskyldning.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Of all places in the world, you would think that in the city of Leonardo da Vinci himself, they would manage to spell the name Mona Lisa correctly (the English name for his painting, La Gioconda/La Joconde), but they don't. What they are quite capable of, however, is to build a shop window that is really, really scary. I wouldn't want to meet this doll in a dark alley, or anywhere else, for that matter. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T-0vdi5fL1k/TunoBCjTkvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/rKGss-Yoj_4/s1600/DSC04552MilanoCreepyWindow.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T-0vdi5fL1k/TunoBCjTkvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/rKGss-Yoj_4/s400/DSC04552MilanoCreepyWindow.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Oooh, a most feminine shoe store. I bet their customers love it, but it doesn't look very practical. "Could you get me that pink box up there?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tThagCz2AJI/TunoEB_ehlI/AAAAAAAAAYM/vd0LY0B8KEk/s1600/DSC04553MilanoRosaSkohelvete.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="332" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tThagCz2AJI/TunoEB_ehlI/AAAAAAAAAYM/vd0LY0B8KEk/s400/DSC04553MilanoRosaSkohelvete.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
In the Marisa boutique they have figured out, correctly, that for a Christmas display, you need to add some snow or ice. Unfortunately, they could only get ice cream cones, with no ice. Oh well.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MHj7ZXcmfto/TunoGpD1v2I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/GlqAOpPQgBs/s1600/DSC04555MilanoMariseteUnderlag.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="365" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MHj7ZXcmfto/TunoGpD1v2I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/GlqAOpPQgBs/s400/DSC04555MilanoMariseteUnderlag.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
When a shop looks like this, you know that you should have saved up for a long, long time before you enter. It reminds me of an old science fiction TV series, although I'm not quite sure why, or if that was the intention of the genius behind this. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--uJc8IaZ35M/TunoIyXhEDI/AAAAAAAAAYU/Xe3-xqU085c/s1600/DSC04560MilanoGyldenSjappe.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--uJc8IaZ35M/TunoIyXhEDI/AAAAAAAAAYU/Xe3-xqU085c/s400/DSC04560MilanoGyldenSjappe.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
If you want to buy incredibly expensive clothes to your kids, that just maybe will last until next Christmas before they're too small to fit them any more, I heartily recommend Miss Blumarine. Here you can go broke forever in less than ten minutes! <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W8tmtRrw7yU/TunoKn3EV_I/AAAAAAAAAYY/ZycM3FKHL3U/s1600/DSC04561MilanoTradisjonelleBarneklaer.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W8tmtRrw7yU/TunoKn3EV_I/AAAAAAAAAYY/ZycM3FKHL3U/s400/DSC04561MilanoTradisjonelleBarneklaer.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Another scary Christmas scene from the fashion shops of Milan. With the price tag these garments carry, I should think that a large box of detergents is included in the price. That, or you must make sure that your children never actually wear these shockingly white children's clothes. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jz2cg-GxdmQ/TunoMwy21qI/AAAAAAAAAYc/j_LzU63XbQE/s1600/DSC04562MilanoDefinitivtInneklaer.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="325" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jz2cg-GxdmQ/TunoMwy21qI/AAAAAAAAAYc/j_LzU63XbQE/s400/DSC04562MilanoDefinitivtInneklaer.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm not sure, but I think this dummy is trying to sell us a pair of gloves. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mYseCiiJfF4/TunoNw0i_uI/AAAAAAAAAYg/Fdl8nJcuSQE/s1600/DSC04565MilanoBlaaDame.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="323" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mYseCiiJfF4/TunoNw0i_uI/AAAAAAAAAYg/Fdl8nJcuSQE/s400/DSC04565MilanoBlaaDame.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
This one I get! It's what you'll look like if you buy these amazingly dorky glasses and hats and you still end up in a queue to get inside the after-ski disco in some god-forsaken remote valley where the rich choose to mix with the ski-hobos. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YnMYmphpHaM/TunoPkHLbQI/AAAAAAAAAYk/AixgVrm03_0/s1600/DSC04574MilanoKoePaaAfter-ski.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YnMYmphpHaM/TunoPkHLbQI/AAAAAAAAAYk/AixgVrm03_0/s400/DSC04574MilanoKoePaaAfter-ski.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Another example of fashion with no brains. The socks are a bit long, I think, but apart from that, I'm sure lots of people would love to wear this when they go out this winter!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YBsy_LVqzBA/TunoRD6d6fI/AAAAAAAAAYo/ZM1lBcYOIB8/s1600/DSC04576MilanoHodeloesMote.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YBsy_LVqzBA/TunoRD6d6fI/AAAAAAAAAYo/ZM1lBcYOIB8/s400/DSC04576MilanoHodeloesMote.JPG" width="301" /></a></div>
<br />
It's in the middle of the winter, and the fog will lie thick in the valley for the next few months, you say? Not to worry, this is an excellent time to sell sunglasses! They're sickly expensive, too. They cost almost more than you'll be charged to see a 3D movie at the cinema these days. On the other hand, they also almost look better than the glasses you'll need to wear to see that movie. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RYzkm1V_uRM/TunoS-UIWbI/AAAAAAAAAYs/I-SivC6Iqqs/s1600/DSC04581MilanoDesemberkolleksjonen.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RYzkm1V_uRM/TunoS-UIWbI/AAAAAAAAAYs/I-SivC6Iqqs/s400/DSC04581MilanoDesemberkolleksjonen.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Here Prada attempts to move the attention away from the shocking price tag nearby, by putting a group of rock band trolls inside one of their croco-handbags. Maybe it works. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mNZ52ABBn5g/TunoVIz5OeI/AAAAAAAAAYw/hj607n289-E/s1600/DSC04597MilanoFlerePradarocketroll.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mNZ52ABBn5g/TunoVIz5OeI/AAAAAAAAAYw/hj607n289-E/s400/DSC04597MilanoFlerePradarocketroll.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Enough fog and fashion, we declare as we head for the train station. An hour or so later we're in a different world. Lugano, just across the border to Switzerland, looks really, really good on a sunny Sunday in December. Our best day in Milan is the one where we leave the city on a day trip, that's for sure. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T0MXB1qcUNQ/Tunoa7UQDFI/AAAAAAAAAY8/8lx57v3aFHk/s1600/DSC04619LuganoFraPromenaden.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T0MXB1qcUNQ/Tunoa7UQDFI/AAAAAAAAAY8/8lx57v3aFHk/s400/DSC04619LuganoFraPromenaden.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
To put people in a wintery, Christmas-y mood, a small skating rink has been put up in the town square in Lugano. This old man hurt his thumb as he was building a new house for little Bardot. While waiting for his thumb to return to a functional state, they've gone down to the town square to dream about the good old days, when he, too, was young and an able skater. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1QlVW7B3CtY/TunoXVBsclI/AAAAAAAAAY0/7GNgWd6wMI0/s1600/DSC04623LuganoMannOgHundVedIsen.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1QlVW7B3CtY/TunoXVBsclI/AAAAAAAAAY0/7GNgWd6wMI0/s400/DSC04623LuganoMannOgHundVedIsen.JPG" width="343" /></a></div>
<br />
In Lugano they have ice both in a rink and in cones. The latter they even do well. Which isn't surprising at all. Lugano is in the Ticino district, which is a part of Switzerland that is a lot more Italian than Swiss. You can speak German here, if you want to, but life here is lived in Italian. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SuL_MPqxY_U/TunoZE3wcAI/AAAAAAAAAY4/XZCJwttEiDo/s1600/DSC04634LuganoIsfristelse.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SuL_MPqxY_U/TunoZE3wcAI/AAAAAAAAAY4/XZCJwttEiDo/s400/DSC04634LuganoIsfristelse.JPG" width="365" /></a></div>
<br />
Even if you can guess the nationality of this colourful tourist, there's still no price for you.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dJsle7lZUy4/TunodC6E5mI/AAAAAAAAAZA/lnjeYD_7iVU/s1600/DSC04647LuganoAmerikanskTurist.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dJsle7lZUy4/TunodC6E5mI/AAAAAAAAAZA/lnjeYD_7iVU/s400/DSC04647LuganoAmerikanskTurist.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Walking along the waterfront in Lugano is a treat. The view of the lake is stunning and it's amusing to see all the escapees from Milan out walking and showing off their hilarious outfits. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-es6TdEn4L1w/TunogEgHWrI/AAAAAAAAAZE/XbAL7IImnhY/s1600/DSC04650LuganoTretunnel.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-es6TdEn4L1w/TunogEgHWrI/AAAAAAAAAZE/XbAL7IImnhY/s400/DSC04650LuganoTretunnel.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The Swiss are quite eager to build enormous water fountains. I'm not sure what they're compensating for. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o5ZGxH-IRFI/Tunoh0iCI9I/AAAAAAAAAZI/RtpzAI0CyBE/s1600/DSC04674LuganoParadisfontenen.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o5ZGxH-IRFI/Tunoh0iCI9I/AAAAAAAAAZI/RtpzAI0CyBE/s400/DSC04674LuganoParadisfontenen.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Ah, the luxury of walking surrounded by autumn colours as late as in early December. Lugano looks both Swiss-style well-kept and at the same time quite Italian. It's a mix that works well for me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mtUWmEXFZQ8/Tunokt7tVnI/AAAAAAAAAZM/R3-JWH0NWtA/s1600/DSC04691LuganoOgDetErSoendag.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mtUWmEXFZQ8/Tunokt7tVnI/AAAAAAAAAZM/R3-JWH0NWtA/s400/DSC04691LuganoOgDetErSoendag.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
A swan couple practicing the art of forming a heart through the shape of their necks. They're getting there.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dTPUS1GI-bQ/TunomyTvtnI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/F9ZP48v8GLE/s1600/DSC04701LuganoHeisannSvanen.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dTPUS1GI-bQ/TunomyTvtnI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/F9ZP48v8GLE/s400/DSC04701LuganoHeisannSvanen.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I don't blame the parents at this playground for turning a bit suspicious when two foreigners turn up carrying mysterious gadgets that they keep looking at while obviously searching for something in all kinds of strange places. We still avoid being arrested, this time. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r5xixdmRXg8/TunoqI8TGzI/AAAAAAAAAZU/0uNTj6qqCDw/s1600/DSC04715LuganoGeokonsentrasjon.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r5xixdmRXg8/TunoqI8TGzI/AAAAAAAAAZU/0uNTj6qqCDw/s400/DSC04715LuganoGeokonsentrasjon.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
When the sun sets, we get on the train back to Milan. When the train station here opened in 1931, it was the largest in the world, and it still feels like it's just a few numbers too large when you're in it. That's what you get when Mussolini decides that his brand new train station should match his ambitions for his fascist empire. The empire disappeared, fortunately, and the train station was left behind, also fortunately.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wd4h-rDTaVY/TunorsVB_2I/AAAAAAAAAZY/BMqlpTQ0f0o/s1600/DSC04732MilanoPanoramaPaaTogstasjon.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wd4h-rDTaVY/TunorsVB_2I/AAAAAAAAAZY/BMqlpTQ0f0o/s400/DSC04732MilanoPanoramaPaaTogstasjon.JPG" width="223" /></a></div>
<br />
There's just time for another round of non-shopping in Milan before we leave. This is the ugliest snowman I could find. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-caLrV30PJYk/Tunotwubi6I/AAAAAAAAAZc/_Kbule-vrXw/s1600/DSC04736MilanoLokalKalle.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-caLrV30PJYk/Tunotwubi6I/AAAAAAAAAZc/_Kbule-vrXw/s400/DSC04736MilanoLokalKalle.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
And this is the ugliest earrings I could find. Who on Earth wants to walk around with golden skeletons dangling from their ears? I'm only guessing, but I think there's potentially a sad Christmas gift opening here. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dzYqFnnGC-Q/TunovhZwjfI/AAAAAAAAAZg/wdOUC81uz4M/s1600/DSC04739MilanoNoeForEnhver.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dzYqFnnGC-Q/TunovhZwjfI/AAAAAAAAAZg/wdOUC81uz4M/s400/DSC04739MilanoNoeForEnhver.JPG" width="340" /></a></div>
<br />
I was not impressed by the range of hiking shoes for sale in Milan. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BVvOJp1c3uA/Tunow_wS1MI/AAAAAAAAAZk/cye_oCqNXFg/s1600/DSC04741MilanoTreParSko.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BVvOJp1c3uA/Tunow_wS1MI/AAAAAAAAAZk/cye_oCqNXFg/s400/DSC04741MilanoTreParSko.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Great hat! It's perfect if you're going to the jungle and you want to see colibris up-close. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L6csGWsSGbQ/TunoyOs3lGI/AAAAAAAAAZo/3JCZHBgkilY/s1600/DSC04745MilanoFinHatt.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L6csGWsSGbQ/TunoyOs3lGI/AAAAAAAAAZo/3JCZHBgkilY/s400/DSC04745MilanoFinHatt.JPG" width="278" /></a></div>
<br />
There's nothing like walking around with blue crystals on your toes. These should improve your odds for catching a dwarf on his night out, I'm sure! <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uWfog2Wjhl0/Tunozk2XsxI/AAAAAAAAAZs/rJ6FZgejRCk/s1600/DSC04760MilanoFintSkalDetVaere.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uWfog2Wjhl0/Tunozk2XsxI/AAAAAAAAAZs/rJ6FZgejRCk/s400/DSC04760MilanoFintSkalDetVaere.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
You can always dream. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8muQA0dRnpU/Tuno0lSK-II/AAAAAAAAAZw/n0awh8zOVTU/s1600/DSC04761MilanoOenskelistebygging.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8muQA0dRnpU/Tuno0lSK-II/AAAAAAAAAZw/n0awh8zOVTU/s400/DSC04761MilanoOenskelistebygging.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The clothes shops are apparently not the only robbers in Milan. But even the other kind of robbers are very fashionably dressed in this city. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wb56pjXdHTI/Tuno2ttKnPI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/uiS2s9IQ-tQ/s1600/DSC04769MilanoRobbingForbudt.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wb56pjXdHTI/Tuno2ttKnPI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/uiS2s9IQ-tQ/s400/DSC04769MilanoRobbingForbudt.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I suppose we should add a photo of the cathedral, Duomo di Milano. It took them, after all, almost six hundred years to complete it. It would have gone faster if they had possessed as useful tools for building cathedrals with back then, as they have these days just to decorate the Christmas tree. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vPvy7ZoGqDo/Tuno5FI6pRI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/4E0QkzwPiVs/s1600/DSC04773MilanoJuletrepynting.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vPvy7ZoGqDo/Tuno5FI6pRI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/4E0QkzwPiVs/s400/DSC04773MilanoJuletrepynting.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
That's it. Now we can get on the plane enjoy the view of the Alps and Europe while we fly home to wait for our next departure. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LhTAFu-fFac/Tuno67LTXII/AAAAAAAAAZ8/1j5yUxZgxCA/s1600/DSC04779SveitsValBregaglia.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LhTAFu-fFac/Tuno67LTXII/AAAAAAAAAZ8/1j5yUxZgxCA/s400/DSC04779SveitsValBregaglia.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Our next trip will be a quick dash across the water to Denmark, in order to survive the <a href="http://www.colbertnation.com/the-colbert-report-videos/404098/december-12-2011/norway-s-butter-shortage" target="_blank">Norwegian butter crisis</a>. But do not feel bad for me. Right after that I'm going to Northern Norway to celebrate Christmas and get fat, and right after that I'll head for Malaysia. Life is good. <br />
<br />
Happy holidays, everyone! #8D)<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/7sjo/images/DSC03716.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="http://www.pvv.org/%7Ebct/7sjo/images/DSC03716.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-64014017518924841442011-10-25T02:52:00.001+02:002011-10-25T02:55:07.966+02:00Morsels from Morocco<p>Oh dear. It has been almost six months since I returned from Morocco, and only now am I ready to put my <a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/sahara/">photos from the trip</a> on-line. "Well" done, Bjørn! <p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/sahara/images/DSC06914MerzougaSandfloeyel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="330" width="525" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/sahara/images/DSC06914MerzougaSandfloeyel.JPG" /></a></div>
<p>If you look through all the photos, I can pretty much guarantee that you'll discover lots of stuff you didn't know can be seen right on the doorstep to Europe. And it's all there, right now. You can just get on a cheap flight from anywhere in Europe to Agadir or Marrakesh and do it all on your own. There's no need to book anything ahead, and there's nothing in particular to worry about. </p>
<p>All you have to do is get off the plane and find your way to the nearest bus terminal. There you'll buy a ticket to Tafraoute, Tinerhir or Merzouga, depending on whether you prefer mountains, canyons or deserts. The buses are comfortable and the drivers and passengers agreeable. In all these three places it's easy to find somewhere to stay, something to eat and something strange to see. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/sahara/images/DSC05626AmelnHonningdalen.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="375" width="500" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/sahara/images/DSC05626AmelnHonningdalen.JPG" /></a></div>
<p>I can't say I recommend the main cities of Morocco, however. They've got Kentucky Fried Chicken, but apart from that they hold little of interest to me. </p>
<p>The cities are all mainly about noise, hassle and a dirty mess wherever you go. And they're full of old mosques you can't enter unless you're a Muslim, and of crazy men on motorbikes driving through the narrow streets as if they were on their way from Paris to Dakar. And the shops! Oh, the shops... They're full of stuff at what may or may not be reasonable prices, but one thing is for sure; when upon returning home you pull out of your backpack something you acquired in Morocco, you will seriously start wondering what on Earth you were thinking when you bought it. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/sahara/images/DSC08077MarrakeshAltErEkte.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="375" width="424" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/sahara/images/DSC08077MarrakeshAltErEkte.JPG" /></a></div>
<p>There's much I could say about Morocco, and much of that I have put in the captions I have provided for <a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/sahara/">the photos</a>. Maybe I'll add a few stories from my trip here later. </p>
<p>For now, though, my main message is that I can easily recommend Morocco to almost anyone. Knowing some French is an advantage, but not at all a requirement. Good thigh muscles is a plus, but most places these days you'll find toilets you can actually sit on. </p>
<p>There is no reason to book a guided tour to anything in Morocco. As long as you keep smiling, and as long as you can do that without getting dangerously drunk first, you'll have an excellent time in Morocco, where everything will just sort itself out. </p>
<p>Happy trails!</p>
<p>Bjørn</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/sahara/images/DSC05660AmelnMkornOgJeg.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="185" width="250" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/sahara/images/DSC05660AmelnMkornOgJeg.JPG" /></a></div>Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-50378871780785139082011-10-19T14:46:00.000+02:002011-10-19T14:46:14.343+02:00Something Tu valu!Hah! I received a mysterious package in the mail. From Australia, with a fairly significant customs duty to pay. I had not ordered anything from Australia, but I just had to pay up and find out what this was. It could be a marsupial. I've always wanted my own wombat. Unfortunately, the package contained no such thing. On the contrary, it was something to put <i>in</i> a pouch.
Please welcome the new one dollar coin of Tuvalu, as seen from its royal side:
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uI99JAZABpg/Tp7CO2gSJHI/AAAAAAAAAVM/7ayloEaLq9s/s1600/Dronningside.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="369" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uI99JAZABpg/Tp7CO2gSJHI/AAAAAAAAAVM/7ayloEaLq9s/s400/Dronningside.png" /></a></div>
On the back it looks like this:
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NTDFz3Eys6s/Tp7CYU6_zyI/AAAAAAAAAVY/mrtJxQWlXpI/s1600/Oerneside.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="369" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NTDFz3Eys6s/Tp7CYU6_zyI/AAAAAAAAAVY/mrtJxQWlXpI/s400/Oerneside.png" /></a></div>
And this is where I enter the picture. When I was in Tasmania a couple of years ago, I took this photograph:
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sUPwF-Ttd68/Tp7Ci84NM_I/AAAAAAAAAVk/y9L57WU90DA/s1600/CradleMountain.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sUPwF-Ttd68/Tp7Ci84NM_I/AAAAAAAAAVk/y9L57WU90DA/s400/CradleMountain.JPG" /></a></div>
Behind the beautiful Dove Lake you see Cradle Mountain. I visited here when I hike The Overland Track, a super 100 kilometer trail that took me more or less from the north to the south of Tasmania.
You still can't see the connection between me and the coin, you say? Well, take a look at this:
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sY-9uKRNHKY/Tp7Cnr73uII/AAAAAAAAAVw/RQJDnmn3K0c/s1600/MyntMedBakgrunn.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sY-9uKRNHKY/Tp7Cnr73uII/AAAAAAAAAVw/RQJDnmn3K0c/s400/MyntMedBakgrunn.JPG" /></a></div>
Do you see? My photo is on a Tuvalu monetary item!
For reasons I shall never understand, the designer of this coin must have felt pretty sure that I would sooner or later discover that they have borrowed the peak of a mountain from one of 1700 photos I took while in Tasmania. Let me just be clear about this: I just took the photo. I did not <i>build</i> the mountain first.
Oh well. Funny stuff. Despite the customs payable, it was really nice of the antipodeans to send me a silver coin as payment for my part of the job of bringing this coin to the world. It may sound like a small pay, but let me remind you of the mess that was unleashed upon the world for the price of just 30 silver coins! Which is just 29 silver coins more than I have now received.
I'm quite pleased.
And soon my Morocco photos are done. I promise!
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YxN_KpvSSow/Tp7DdaGFNQI/AAAAAAAAAV8/ZS6VsfAihNk/s1600/Marokkobilde.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="301" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YxN_KpvSSow/Tp7DdaGFNQI/AAAAAAAAAV8/ZS6VsfAihNk/s400/Marokkobilde.jpg" /></a></div>Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-7727094388637434652011-10-03T16:59:00.000+02:002011-10-03T16:59:31.271+02:00Trophies from TromsSummer is long gone, especially in Northern Norway. It lives on only as memories and photographs. In July I spent ten days discovering a new national park and an old island society. Rohkunborri and Senja. That's right. Even in Norway there are places where even just their names make you want to go and see them for yourself.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wx5plKDoKGo/TonItWvZEQI/AAAAAAAAAUs/AtHg6igc0hM/s1600/DSC01379RohkunFoelgBlomstene.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wx5plKDoKGo/TonItWvZEQI/AAAAAAAAAUs/AtHg6igc0hM/s400/DSC01379RohkunFoelgBlomstene.JPG" /></a></div>
The first part of the journey I did with my father. He wanted to revisit a number of mountains he last saw up-close fifty years ago, and he needed someone to go with him. "Someone" turned out to be me, and we accomplished everything we planned on. We made it to the top of Stor-Ala, we hiked the Sørdalen canyon all the way to Sweden and back, and we stood on the top of Istinden. I don't know if it was better in any way fifty years ago, but looking at <a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/troms/">my photos</a> from this year's trip, I doubt it.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jI15pb9j6iY/TonIzhjbKmI/AAAAAAAAAU0/jsd2FDgUKxI/s1600/DSC01532RohkunAnnetTreAnnenFoss.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="254" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jI15pb9j6iY/TonIzhjbKmI/AAAAAAAAAU0/jsd2FDgUKxI/s400/DSC01532RohkunAnnetTreAnnenFoss.JPG" /></a></div>
While my father stayed in his childhood town and showed off his blisters and bruises, I went by myself to the island of Senja, a mountainous place surrounded by the ice-cold Arctic sea. Although it's close to a statistic impossibility, I got two days in a row reaching more than 30 degrees Celsius there. It was so beautiful that I almost didn't let myself sleep. Day and night I explored the island, enchanted by the local nature. Crazy tooth-like mountain peaks, intensely green hillsides, porpoises playing in the sea, eagles just sitting around, smiling fishermen and locals that clearly were not used to tropical temperatures, dressing in military boots and underwear to go to the beach.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v6Q3oL4gye0/TonI8gaPfkI/AAAAAAAAAU8/0bT55wd-N9M/s1600/DSC03016TungenesetWeirdScenery.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v6Q3oL4gye0/TonI8gaPfkI/AAAAAAAAAU8/0bT55wd-N9M/s400/DSC03016TungenesetWeirdScenery.JPG" /></a></div>
I couldn't get enough of it. I will have to go back and continue my trip eventually. Senja is just as mesmerizing as the more famous Lofoten islands, but it gets dramatically fewer tourists. Do give it a try if you ever get the chance. Bring a tent, so that you can sleep wherever you like and whenever you need it. It's quite easy to get there. Just fly to Tromsø or Bardufoss (cheap flights from Oslo), rent a car and get going!
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1JRrOqycIzU/TonJCOH_6sI/AAAAAAAAAVE/fm6kU7xb5zM/s1600/DSC03186GrunnvaagBlaaNatt.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1JRrOqycIzU/TonJCOH_6sI/AAAAAAAAAVE/fm6kU7xb5zM/s400/DSC03186GrunnvaagBlaaNatt.JPG" /></a></div>
All right. Done with <a href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/troms/">Troms</a>. Who's next?
Oh, hi there, Morocco!
(I'll be back shortly with more.)
Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-91943852904276293272011-09-18T15:19:00.000+02:002011-09-18T15:19:32.282+02:00One night in OsloAfter months filled with travels and work, I now have six weeks in which I will try to catch up with the piles of photos I have gathered the last few months. They contain scenes from Merzouga and Nikosia, Rohkunborri and Okefenokee, Senja and Savannah, Belfast and Brønnøy, and lots of other places where pixels can be made.
The results of this work will soon appear, but because I'm so stupid, the first thing I did when I finally was done at work for a while, was to go out and take more photos. This is what a long evening looked like to me, when Oslo decided to open all cultural doors to anyone, for free. Sometimes it's great to be a tourist in your own town as well.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158028033/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="444" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6181/6158028033_cd082bb39a.jpg" /></a></div>
The shortest route from my apartment to the city centre goes through the park surrounding The royal castle. The castle chapel was open, so I went in and had a look around. It's nice, but photography isn't allowed there, so instead here you have a group of uniformed men wandering through a forest where there are still insects hovering beneath the branches at sunset. Soon they will be gone, then the leaves will turn yellow and red, and then winter will come.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158568532/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="429" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6198/6158568532_e79a561990.jpg" /></a></div>
The parliament building, Stortinget, was also open for the public, but the line was too long for me. I wandered on, past this statue, which I'm pretty sure has had something added to it lately.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158023727/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="464" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6071/6158023727_0508496198.jpg" /></a></div>
The autumn sun hung low, making life hard for anyone driving towards the west. Beautiful light, although it makes crossing the street an uncertain undertaking.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158564926/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="500" width="421" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6090/6158564926_bae53cf4e4.jpg" /></a></div>
My first proper target for the evening was, of course, the Freia chocolate factory, where this stork waded in the rising shadow of a nearby roof. Those birds are amazingly good at standing absolutely still!
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158021105/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="351" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6185/6158021105_00c8a9894b.jpg" /></a></div>
Ever since the factory was built, the management has tried to provide intellectual stimulation to the factory workers, usually in the shape of sculptures and paintings. I hope these two cats are not too involved with the chocolate production.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158561514/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="95" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6191/6158561514_5a6c4371f0.jpg" /></a></div>
This is probably the most expensive bits of what Kraft Foods International Limited Unlimited Corporation got when they acquired the chocolate factory a few years ago; a large dining hall with enormous Edvard Munch paintings on the wall. It's art on par with what you can find at the Munch museum and the National Gallery, but here it's just something in the background when factory workers sit around and have their lunch.
And yes, there were plates full of chocolate on every table.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158018437/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="215" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6180/6158018437_4bbc338bfc.jpg" /></a></div>
After I filled my backpack with chocolate in the factory store (you get a LOT of chocolate for your money there!), I returned to the city centre. A crazy old man has collected minibottles in every shape and colour throughout his life, to the degree that he's in the Guinness' Book of World Records now. These are The seven dwarves as bottles, with surprisingly un-red noses.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158017509/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="500" width="475" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6199/6158017509_e35b7b8284.jpg" /></a></div>
In the less innocent corner, I found this Adolf Hitler bottle. A particularly strange thing among numerous just suitably strange things.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158559126/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="474" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6168/6158559126_675803516f.jpg" /></a></div>
Recycling bottles can also be done through making lamps from them. Just as nice as crystal chandeliers, especially if your vision isn't very good.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158015857/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="403" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6064/6158015857_fb47923563.jpg" /></a></div>
At the mini bottle museum there's also a scary section. There I found this guy, who I suppose should have ordered a mop or something in addition to the vodka he's got in his hand.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158556702/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="500" width="478" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6072/6158556702_0b19e57083.jpg" /></a></div>
In the utterly, utterly most seedy part of the museum, I found this bordello, where you have to touch a woman's breast to get in and a penis to get out again, this girl is in bed, trying to distract people from all sorts of red light thingies around her. She plays her part fairly well.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158012735/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="409" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6166/6158012735_2c6719167f.jpg" /></a></div>
At the museum I also found the absolutely most scary thing I've ever exposed my private parts to. The old saying "Don't stick your dick in crazy" came to my mind. I quickly finished.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158553268/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="336" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6164/6158553268_082d4b4150.jpg" /></a></div>
I visited the university's hall of ceremonies, where the Nobel Peace Price has been given out many times. I enjoyed a choir concert and a lecture about the paintings on the walls. These are works by Edvard Munch as well, and they will probably stay here, as they measure up to 55 square metres in surface area. The lecture was given by a women with screaming red hair and the inability to say the letter R. This guarantees she must be an art expert to me.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158551406/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="373" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6153/6158551406_b3a52b0b0b.jpg" /></a></div>
Nearby is the House of Artists, where a large exhibition was going on. They're not very modest, especially when you compare it to what was on display.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158007215/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="384" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6179/6158007215_b2bb88b62f.jpg" /></a></div>
This is a typical piece of art from the exhibition. It looks like some kind of textile-based jellyfish, I think, and it carries no apparent message to the world. It's probably still for sale if you're interested.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158547466/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="307" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6073/6158547466_544ac98104.jpg" /></a></div>
The Oslo Opera House also had some lectures and performances to see, but like always it's the building that is the main attraction here.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158003479/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="500" width="363" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6085/6158003479_84081aea48.jpg" /></a></div>
The last thing I did before heading home was a fireworks display in the harbour. It was much more impressive than this photo conveys, but firework pictures has everything to do with luck, and this was the luckiest I got that night. Such is life.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uspn/6158545284/in/photostream/lightbox/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="375" width="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6203/6158545284_b7f8bca07f.jpg" /></a></div>
After the fireworks, the air was filled with smoke for a while. If you look closely, you can see the Big Dipper.
That's it. Awaiting me now is, hopefully, a few days with cold and lousy autumn weather, giving me ample opportunity to stay inside with hot cocoa, editing photos. Soon I'll be back with more visual thoughts.
See you! #8D)
Bjørn
Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-18438980256782493232011-08-24T16:29:00.002+02:002011-08-24T16:52:54.390+02:00CELEBRATION!Oops! Did I startle you? I know, I've been all quiet for a while. But today it's my birthday, and my gift to and from myself is a day off from work. Hence, I've got time to catch up with you guys.
<br />
<br />I am 14244 days old today. This makes me almost twice as old as the World Wide Web, a young rascal of 7323 days. Not to mention Justin Bieber, a newcomer with only 6385 days to show for himself. Hm. Anyway, I'm quite satisfied with both my age and my condition, thank you very much.
<br />
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MxFKKPwFvb8/TlUIAKgXokI/AAAAAAAAAT4/xp9PKagunb4/s1600/oppussingsobjekt.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MxFKKPwFvb8/TlUIAKgXokI/AAAAAAAAAT4/xp9PKagunb4/s400/oppussingsobjekt.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644426506891928130" border="0" /></a><center><i>Not related at all: An old wreck of a house I found this summer</i></center>
<br />
<br />Since my last blog entry, I've gone to Morocco and returned alive and with fairly clean underwear. It could have been different. Just before I walked off my bus from Casablanca to Marrakesh at the end of my trip, a suicide bomber decided to push the button in a restaurant on the famous Djemaa el-Fna city square. If I had taken an earlier bus, I would have been there or very close right then.
<br />
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kjHcHVYEgxA/TlUI_vknjzI/AAAAAAAAAUA/Jxgf_NoZqhY/s1600/Moskesorg.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kjHcHVYEgxA/TlUI_vknjzI/AAAAAAAAAUA/Jxgf_NoZqhY/s400/Moskesorg.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644427599173619506" /></a><center><i>Mourning in the Maghreb</i></center>
<br />Walking around in a sad Marrakesh wasn't the best ending of an otherwise great trip through Morocco and West Sahara. Soon I can show you guys the highlights of that journey. I'm working on the photos right now.
<br />
<br />To experience a distinct contrast from the cave people, shepherds and berbers, my next expedition became a two week stay in Walt Disney World. Not so much to do the rides as to observe Americans doing what they appear to prefer to spend their short vacations on. What <strong>is</strong> it that makes people in a society built on convenience gather in crowds so large that they typically end up standing in line for hours just to do something that is likely to make them throw up some of the 150 tons of popcorn sold and presumably eaten in the parks every year? I still don't know, but I figured it was worth giving understanding it a shot.
<br />
<br />A few days of high-season Disney made me somewhat people-shy. My medicine was to go hiking in the vast mountains in the arctic north of Norway.
<br />
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--GvKBKXEBRs/TlUJ1G3a-SI/AAAAAAAAAUI/yULkvSr7AtY/s1600/fossebjoerk.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--GvKBKXEBRs/TlUJ1G3a-SI/AAAAAAAAAUI/yULkvSr7AtY/s400/fossebjoerk.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644428515959568674" /></a><center><i>Previously a tree in Rohkunborri, now just a photo shoot</i></center>
<br />
<br />The last year I have been to many excellent places, but neither quiet mornings in the jungle in Tikal, a crossing of the Pyrenees under the autumn sun, exciting bugs hiding unsuccessfully from me in the Sahara, the Titanic shipyard in Belfast ("She was fine when she left here!") or a VIP passes in theme parks can compete with a midsummer spring in the north of Norway.
<br />
<br />Okay, so there may have been some ice-cold fording of glacier streams, fist-fights with horseflies and a wee bit too many too steep hills, but that is all forgotten now. What's left are just the beautiful memories of enchanting days and nights with no sunsets.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nuusqZKXtQ0/TlUKDxi8XqI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/R_v7sAcKIyc/s1600/LilleNattvann.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 140px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nuusqZKXtQ0/TlUKDxi8XqI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/R_v7sAcKIyc/s400/LilleNattvann.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644428767934570146" /></a><center><i>A nocturnal lake on Senja island</i></center>
<br />
<br />The photos from these hikes are the next ones on their way into my gallery, so just you keep checking back. And even though the one day in the year when I turn older has come, rest assured that I'm still the same Bjørn. Which means, soon there will be more to read and see here.
<br />
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-li3AJOEC4Io/TlUKRntZ43I/AAAAAAAAAUY/XaiIuKY3YVc/s1600/LilleCelebration.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-li3AJOEC4Io/TlUKRntZ43I/AAAAAAAAAUY/XaiIuKY3YVc/s400/LilleCelebration.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644429005812261746" /></a><center><i>Relevant photo: The small town of Celebration, built by Disney as a mini utopia</i></center>
<br />
<br />Please visit again soon, and have a great day, you too!
<br />
<br />Bjørn
<br />Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3485629435593028647.post-11237831818942140352011-04-09T08:34:00.002+02:002011-04-09T09:16:53.418+02:00Orange you glad I'm leaving?That's about all I know about Morocco. They haves oranges. Lots of oranges. And sand. Even more sand than oranges. In 1956 they had 8 million citizens. Today there are at least 33 millions of them. Eating orange must be much like taking Viagra. <br /><br />Now I'm off for three weeks in Morocco, where I will probably gather some new information about the Moroccans and their doings. For now I am content with having found out that the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2011_Moroccan_protests">North African</a> revolution quickly passed in Morocco. The king must be a fairly smart guy. After just a handful of self-immolations and some protests in the streets involving tens of thousands of people, he decided to promise them a new constitution. They'll have a referendum about it this summer and at least until then it should be perfectly safe to visit the country. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SfbdQcZ9sBs/TZ_1UTA8gjI/AAAAAAAAARM/X9Yos2HO2V0/s1600/Namibiansk.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SfbdQcZ9sBs/TZ_1UTA8gjI/AAAAAAAAARM/X9Yos2HO2V0/s400/Namibiansk.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593458991267873330" /></a><br />Especially if you stay away from the southern part of the country. Or, the southern part that Morocco thinks is Morocco, but which most other people considers to be a country on its own, Western Sahara, and presently occupied by Morocco. Only half a million people live there, giving them half a square kilometre of land each to thrive on. My own country, Norway, is really sparsely populated as well, but we only have a fifteenth of that much land each. <br /><br />Which is good news. I'll be drinking a lot of water as I wander about, and sooner or later I'll need to pee. With all that area, I should be able to find a spot to do so without being disturbed. It doesn't even matter that I probably won't find a bush or tree to go behind. From what I imagine, I'll be seeing a lot of open, sand-filled scenery during the next three weeks. Fortunately that's something I love.<br /><br />I'd also love to give you more interesting facts about Morocco, but since I've already told you everything I know, I'll have to get back to you later in my blog. <br /><br />On this trip I'm planning to assassinate my camera. It's already half-dead, and I've decided which machine shall be my next travelmate. It's <a href="http://www.dpreview.com/products/sony/compacts/sony_dschx100v">this beauty</a>, a grandchild of my present camera. But let's keep this piece of information away from my trusty old camera for now, shall we?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/taz/downies/Cradle-Mountain-Dove-Lake.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 433px; height: 325px;" src="http://www.pvv.org/~bct/taz/images/DSC07714CradleMountainDoveLakeSoerover.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />What else has happened recently? Hmm... Oh, yes, the photo above, taken by me in Tasmania a couple of years ago, will later this year become the background of a new coin, official tender in Tuvalu! It's part of a series, where <a href="http://downies.wordpress.com/2010/09/01/tuvalu-2011-1-tasmanian-tiger-1oz-silver-proof/">this</a> is the previous coin, so I suppose "my" coin will be quite similar. I just hope that the eagle that will go in the foreground won't steal too much of the show. Whether it does or not, this is so cool, and so weird. <br /><br />Anyway, I'll be going now. I'm already looking forward to going home. #8D)<br /><br />Bjørn<br /><br />PS: Remember to water my plants!Bjørn Christian Tørrissenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12762873897707722550noreply@blogger.com0