I've always had a bit of a thing for numbers, so here are some numbers from this trip.
2 months
8 countries, 3 of them unplanned (Morocco and day trips to Egypt and Singapore)
3 lost beanies (all of them Jason within a 2 week period)
1 wedding
0 episodes of food poisoning thanks to 73 bottles of fresh water
2 very weary travellers who just want to go climbing, but our car won't start!
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Languages
In both my visits to Germany this trip I have felt completely inept, reduced to pointing and pleading with my eyes to be understood. Or more commonly after opening my mouth to say 'Guten morgen' had the other person respond in English. Considering the length of time I studied German at school I found this frustrating to say the least.
But then it came back. It didn't come in dribs and drabs, but rather in one rush of knowledge. One day I was pointing at the bread roll I wanted for lunch, the next day asking in complete sentences. I am no longer searching my brain to translate each word and then cobbling together a poorly structured sentence, I just know what I want to say. I'm not saying I'm fluent, but then I never was. But checking into the hotel the staff responded in German and in restaurants I am given the German menu, when the English one is posted outside. I had assumed all my German had left, atrophied from lack of use. Yet it was obviously stored somewhere, my brain just took a while to be convinced I needed it.
But then it came back. It didn't come in dribs and drabs, but rather in one rush of knowledge. One day I was pointing at the bread roll I wanted for lunch, the next day asking in complete sentences. I am no longer searching my brain to translate each word and then cobbling together a poorly structured sentence, I just know what I want to say. I'm not saying I'm fluent, but then I never was. But checking into the hotel the staff responded in German and in restaurants I am given the German menu, when the English one is posted outside. I had assumed all my German had left, atrophied from lack of use. Yet it was obviously stored somewhere, my brain just took a while to be convinced I needed it.
The reason for the trip
This whole adventure started because Clare and Guntram were getting married, so from London we headed back to Berlin. The wedding was in two parts. On the Saturday we were given a dance lesson to prepare us for the requisite dancing at the reception. After a quick rundown on three different dances we felt ready to party.
The wedding itself included a beautiful church service, with much of it luckily translated into English. At the start of the reception we were all given helium balloons to which we attached a card. The card was basically a post card on which we wrote what we would give the couple if the card was found and posted back. On their arrival nearly a hundred balloons were released into the air, with about half getting caught in the trees! I would love to know how many of the ones that made it into the air get returned. There followed a sumptuous banquet, lively conversation and of course, dancing. I feel very lucky to have been a part of their wedding, and I'm sure they will have a fabulous life together.
This marked the end of our trip with just a few days to see Munich and Neushwanstein before the mammoth trip back home. We were lucky enough to arrive in Munich on May 1st, a public holiday to promote worker's rights. The main square was hosting free concerts, jumping castles, face painters and general good cheer. It almost made up for the miserable weather that has followed us wherever we've gone in Germany.
The wedding itself included a beautiful church service, with much of it luckily translated into English. At the start of the reception we were all given helium balloons to which we attached a card. The card was basically a post card on which we wrote what we would give the couple if the card was found and posted back. On their arrival nearly a hundred balloons were released into the air, with about half getting caught in the trees! I would love to know how many of the ones that made it into the air get returned. There followed a sumptuous banquet, lively conversation and of course, dancing. I feel very lucky to have been a part of their wedding, and I'm sure they will have a fabulous life together.
This marked the end of our trip with just a few days to see Munich and Neushwanstein before the mammoth trip back home. We were lucky enough to arrive in Munich on May 1st, a public holiday to promote worker's rights. The main square was hosting free concerts, jumping castles, face painters and general good cheer. It almost made up for the miserable weather that has followed us wherever we've gone in Germany.
48 hours
We had what definitely counts as a flying visit to London, Morocco on Wednesday, England on Thursday and Germany on Friday!
Wednesday
5:00pm: landed at Heathrow
6:30pm: stationary on the tube being told in detail about the person who had jumped in front of the train (he lived).
7:30pm: having dinner with my other newly discovered aunt, Sue and her partner Joe.
Thursday
9:00am: having a nice breakfast with my great aunt Monica who we stayed with.
11:30am: spending the day with my brother, his wife and my gorgeous nephew.
7:30pm: at the Apollo Theatre watching Wicked.
Friday
11:00am: having lunch with my great aunt Norah, still looking great at 95.
3:00pm: sitting at Gatwick airport waiting for our flight to Berlin.
Short, but very sweet.
Wednesday
5:00pm: landed at Heathrow
6:30pm: stationary on the tube being told in detail about the person who had jumped in front of the train (he lived).
7:30pm: having dinner with my other newly discovered aunt, Sue and her partner Joe.
Thursday
9:00am: having a nice breakfast with my great aunt Monica who we stayed with.
11:30am: spending the day with my brother, his wife and my gorgeous nephew.
7:30pm: at the Apollo Theatre watching Wicked.
Friday
11:00am: having lunch with my great aunt Norah, still looking great at 95.
3:00pm: sitting at Gatwick airport waiting for our flight to Berlin.
Short, but very sweet.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Shopping
We aren't ones for shopping, and rarely indulge in souvenirs, but for Morocco we have made an exception. This probably relates to the fact that a lot of what you come to Morocco for is the medinas and the souks. It also relates to the fact that the shops are not really there for the tourists. The souks existed before tourism selling what the locals need and they still do exactly that. Some areas are focused more on tourists, but next door is a shop selling 'squat' toilet seats.
Food shopping is also rather a different experience. Fruits and vegetables are as you might expect and although there is a guy sitting with a bag of live snails that's not so exceptional. But meat buying is the exact opposite of in Australia. The animals are raised by a shepherd and killed alone under specific conditions within hours of coming to market. The butcher hangs the lamb or cow often with head attached and you can choose which parts you would like. Live chickens stand on top of cages and once you've chosen your chicken it will be killed for your consumption. It is not possible to forget where your food comes from, but it seems that the animals have happier lives because of it.
Food shopping is also rather a different experience. Fruits and vegetables are as you might expect and although there is a guy sitting with a bag of live snails that's not so exceptional. But meat buying is the exact opposite of in Australia. The animals are raised by a shepherd and killed alone under specific conditions within hours of coming to market. The butcher hangs the lamb or cow often with head attached and you can choose which parts you would like. Live chickens stand on top of cages and once you've chosen your chicken it will be killed for your consumption. It is not possible to forget where your food comes from, but it seems that the animals have happier lives because of it.
The after effects of chocolate
We threw ourselves into Chefchaouen with abandon. In both Fez and Marrakech I had always kept an awareness of where we were and where we wanted to go, meandering but never truly getting lost. It may have been to do with warnings of how easy getting lost in the maze of their medinas, or it may just have been first impressions.
My first impression of Chefchaouen involved the owner of the Dar we wanted to stay at, but was full, giving me chocolate and organising another hotel for us. What can I say, I was given chocolate and content. So whilst we were being led by his son to our new hotel, winding our way up and down through the blue alleyways of the medina, I didn't really pay much attention. On leaving our new abode we didn't bother working out where on the map we were located, not that that would have helped as we left the guidebook back in the hotel. The end result was that we got completely and utterly lost. It was great! Of course we did get a little worried trying to find our hotel after dinner when it was dark and we arrived back at our starting location for the third time.
The medina is much more friendly than the ones in the major cities, smaller, stunningly beautiful and blue. Perhaps as a lingering effect of the initial chocolate we continued to feel relaxed and comfortable. We made friends with a shop keeper, bonding over the rock climbing book. The guide to rock climbing in the Todra Gorge is A4 sheets of paper covered with hand drawn squiggles, that supposedly represent the various rock faces and climbs. Hassan (the guy who draws the books) photocopies the pages, adds colour where needed, for example adding green trees or noting with yellow the time when the sun will hit. The book is quite spectacular and for us it would also have been incomprehensible. This particular shop keeper was from that area and a keen rock climber himself so an instant bond was formed. He then went on to show us in great detail the different designs on the carpets his mother makes and what they mean. There was no pressure to buy as we had told him we weren't buying, but he seemed genuinely proud of the rugs.
The town itself is a charming mix of tourism and just a town going about its business. It being the first day of school after the holidays the streets were often filled with the sounds of children singing in their classrooms. The markets were bustling with women buying their vegetables and the square with old men sitting watching the world go by. Just our kind of town.
My first impression of Chefchaouen involved the owner of the Dar we wanted to stay at, but was full, giving me chocolate and organising another hotel for us. What can I say, I was given chocolate and content. So whilst we were being led by his son to our new hotel, winding our way up and down through the blue alleyways of the medina, I didn't really pay much attention. On leaving our new abode we didn't bother working out where on the map we were located, not that that would have helped as we left the guidebook back in the hotel. The end result was that we got completely and utterly lost. It was great! Of course we did get a little worried trying to find our hotel after dinner when it was dark and we arrived back at our starting location for the third time.
The medina is much more friendly than the ones in the major cities, smaller, stunningly beautiful and blue. Perhaps as a lingering effect of the initial chocolate we continued to feel relaxed and comfortable. We made friends with a shop keeper, bonding over the rock climbing book. The guide to rock climbing in the Todra Gorge is A4 sheets of paper covered with hand drawn squiggles, that supposedly represent the various rock faces and climbs. Hassan (the guy who draws the books) photocopies the pages, adds colour where needed, for example adding green trees or noting with yellow the time when the sun will hit. The book is quite spectacular and for us it would also have been incomprehensible. This particular shop keeper was from that area and a keen rock climber himself so an instant bond was formed. He then went on to show us in great detail the different designs on the carpets his mother makes and what they mean. There was no pressure to buy as we had told him we weren't buying, but he seemed genuinely proud of the rugs.
The town itself is a charming mix of tourism and just a town going about its business. It being the first day of school after the holidays the streets were often filled with the sounds of children singing in their classrooms. The markets were bustling with women buying their vegetables and the square with old men sitting watching the world go by. Just our kind of town.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Don't you like my poufs?
Fez wasn't our favourite city. It didn't help that we arrived on a Friday when everything is shut. Walking through almost deserted narrow alleyways felt eerie and the feeling of 'life' that we had loved in Marrakech was missing. We did partake in a cooking course, making a traditional tajine in a pressure cooker. Our chef assured us that hardly anyone actually cooks in a tajine as it would take 4-5 hours. This fitted with what we had seen of Moroccon picnics, which all seemed to include pressure cookers on portable gas stoves.
There were a few nice moments in Fes. On our first foray into the deserted streets the door to the mosque near our Dar was open and it was spectacular. Aware that non-Muslims aren't allowed within the mosque, I wasn't sure what the photo etiquette would be. So using gestures I tried to ask if it was ok for me to take a photo through the door. My question was slightly misunderstood and instead he took my camera inside and took photos of the areas I couldn't see! Unfortunately a good camera doesn't make good photos in the wrong hands, so I only have very dark, blurry photos, but it was definitely the thought that counted.
And of course I can't help but giggle every time someone calls out plaintively "What? Don't you like my poufs?" I'm childish, I know.
There were a few nice moments in Fes. On our first foray into the deserted streets the door to the mosque near our Dar was open and it was spectacular. Aware that non-Muslims aren't allowed within the mosque, I wasn't sure what the photo etiquette would be. So using gestures I tried to ask if it was ok for me to take a photo through the door. My question was slightly misunderstood and instead he took my camera inside and took photos of the areas I couldn't see! Unfortunately a good camera doesn't make good photos in the wrong hands, so I only have very dark, blurry photos, but it was definitely the thought that counted.
And of course I can't help but giggle every time someone calls out plaintively "What? Don't you like my poufs?" I'm childish, I know.
Insha'Allah
After my failed attempts to take Jason hot air ballooning for his birthday I was struggling to come up with another brilliant idea. Then inspiration struck - what better present than two days rock climbing in the High Atlas Mountains of Morocco?! Luckily for me there is a company who runs such trips, even renting out all the necessary gear, so from Marrakech we headed up into the mountains.
There are two major bus companies, Supratours and CTM, that have decent reputations and a host of local companies which are considered more variable. We choose to go with Supratours for the added comfort and reliability, given it was supposed to be a 7.5 hour bus trip. The bus was indeed comfortable with functioning air conditioning and seemed fine until 3.5 hours out of Marrakech, when we stopped. There appeared to be some problem getting the bus into gear, and the attempt at maintenance involved a rock picked up from the side of the road. Unsurprisingly bashing the engine didn't fix it and we were told (or the Arabic speakers were told) that another bus would come from Marrakech. There was a mass exodus and people started stopping every passing vehicle and getting in. One of the only English speaking passengers said that this was for the people who were only going to the next town , those of us going further had to wait. However, when another bus passed by heading to Tinehir we waved it down and went the rest of the way in a much less comfortable local bus. This turned out to be a good move as we made it to Tinehir by 6pm, the second Supratours bus didn't get there until 9pm!
Our slight concern was how we were now going to meet Jay, our rock climbing guide. We were two hours late, not on the bus he expected and without a phone. We needn't have worried. Before we had managed to put our bags down Jay appeared and we were off to the Todra Gorge.
I feel like there is so much to say about our time there, all of it good. The climbing, the people, the food. Oh, the tajines!! Jay was originally from America and had set up the climbing business with a friend. Together with his wife and kids, he had moved to Morocco three years ago and thrown himself whole heartedly into the culture. He seemed just as passionate about Morocco as he is about rock climbing, so we got to learn about both.
One of the interesting things we learnt about was the phrase Insha'Allah, which roughly translates to "if god wills it.". This is apparently used in every conceivable situation and means neither yes nor no.
Would you like to come over for dinner? "Insha'Allah."
So you'll be here at 10am to fix the plumbing? "Insha'Allah."
Can we have breakfast at 8am tomorrow? "Insha'Allah."
Since learning this phrase we hear it everywhere, both appended to English phrases said to us (see you later, Insha'Allah) or in overheard conversations in Arabic.
We also got to meet his family who were staying at the Auberge. Jason being handcuffed by 5 year old "officer Lydia" whilst she kept up her patrol in fits of giggles just added to the whole experience!
As for outdoor rock climbing, I am hooked! First order of business when we get back is to get a guide to outdoor climbing near Sydney. Laundry can happen after that. Jay also gave us an introduction to lead climbing, or "climbing on the sharp edge", and doing a full course is now on the agenda.
The only problem with going rock climbing, when we hadn't planned to go, was that we didn't have our own rock climbing shoes. For anyone who has been climbing you will know that the shoes are uncomfortable, and if ill-fitting down right painful. Despite having a range of sizes to choose from by the end of the first day my feet were in agony and I could no longer put any weight on my toes. On day two I tried again, but the pain was unbearable. So I decided to climb in my sandals instead. Whilst not ideal it seemed a reasonable idea until Jay said "Did one of you loose an inner sole?"
Two steps back was the actual sole of my shoe, the glue having apparently melted in the heat and separated the layers. I wasn't going to give up on climbing that easily, so with one and a half sandals I started climbing. Rockclimbing shoes, who needs those? I certainly had to work a bit harder on foot placement, but I was back to having fun!
All too soon it was time for us to leave and go to Fes. That was supposed to be a 9 hour journey, but guess what, the bus broke down! Marrakech felt like Morocco. Bus travel feels like Africa. We have taken two bus journeys so far. We have had two buses break down so far. We have another long bus journey to take us to Casablanca for our flight to London. We should make it, Insha'Allah.
There are two major bus companies, Supratours and CTM, that have decent reputations and a host of local companies which are considered more variable. We choose to go with Supratours for the added comfort and reliability, given it was supposed to be a 7.5 hour bus trip. The bus was indeed comfortable with functioning air conditioning and seemed fine until 3.5 hours out of Marrakech, when we stopped. There appeared to be some problem getting the bus into gear, and the attempt at maintenance involved a rock picked up from the side of the road. Unsurprisingly bashing the engine didn't fix it and we were told (or the Arabic speakers were told) that another bus would come from Marrakech. There was a mass exodus and people started stopping every passing vehicle and getting in. One of the only English speaking passengers said that this was for the people who were only going to the next town , those of us going further had to wait. However, when another bus passed by heading to Tinehir we waved it down and went the rest of the way in a much less comfortable local bus. This turned out to be a good move as we made it to Tinehir by 6pm, the second Supratours bus didn't get there until 9pm!
Our slight concern was how we were now going to meet Jay, our rock climbing guide. We were two hours late, not on the bus he expected and without a phone. We needn't have worried. Before we had managed to put our bags down Jay appeared and we were off to the Todra Gorge.
I feel like there is so much to say about our time there, all of it good. The climbing, the people, the food. Oh, the tajines!! Jay was originally from America and had set up the climbing business with a friend. Together with his wife and kids, he had moved to Morocco three years ago and thrown himself whole heartedly into the culture. He seemed just as passionate about Morocco as he is about rock climbing, so we got to learn about both.
One of the interesting things we learnt about was the phrase Insha'Allah, which roughly translates to "if god wills it.". This is apparently used in every conceivable situation and means neither yes nor no.
Would you like to come over for dinner? "Insha'Allah."
So you'll be here at 10am to fix the plumbing? "Insha'Allah."
Can we have breakfast at 8am tomorrow? "Insha'Allah."
Since learning this phrase we hear it everywhere, both appended to English phrases said to us (see you later, Insha'Allah) or in overheard conversations in Arabic.
We also got to meet his family who were staying at the Auberge. Jason being handcuffed by 5 year old "officer Lydia" whilst she kept up her patrol in fits of giggles just added to the whole experience!
As for outdoor rock climbing, I am hooked! First order of business when we get back is to get a guide to outdoor climbing near Sydney. Laundry can happen after that. Jay also gave us an introduction to lead climbing, or "climbing on the sharp edge", and doing a full course is now on the agenda.
The only problem with going rock climbing, when we hadn't planned to go, was that we didn't have our own rock climbing shoes. For anyone who has been climbing you will know that the shoes are uncomfortable, and if ill-fitting down right painful. Despite having a range of sizes to choose from by the end of the first day my feet were in agony and I could no longer put any weight on my toes. On day two I tried again, but the pain was unbearable. So I decided to climb in my sandals instead. Whilst not ideal it seemed a reasonable idea until Jay said "Did one of you loose an inner sole?"
Two steps back was the actual sole of my shoe, the glue having apparently melted in the heat and separated the layers. I wasn't going to give up on climbing that easily, so with one and a half sandals I started climbing. Rockclimbing shoes, who needs those? I certainly had to work a bit harder on foot placement, but I was back to having fun!
All too soon it was time for us to leave and go to Fes. That was supposed to be a 9 hour journey, but guess what, the bus broke down! Marrakech felt like Morocco. Bus travel feels like Africa. We have taken two bus journeys so far. We have had two buses break down so far. We have another long bus journey to take us to Casablanca for our flight to London. We should make it, Insha'Allah.
Marrakech
Our impromptu trip to Morocco started in Marrakech, and Marrakech is everything you imagine Morocco to be. It is noisy, colourful and chaotic. The aroma of spices fills the air and you are jostled by people, motorbikes and donkeys as you wind your way through the medina. The main square in town is a swarming mass of people. It is only as you immerse yourself into the swarm that you realise there are groups surrounding storytellers, snake charmers and performers of all types. We returned to the square a number of times, enthralled by the sight of Muslim belly dancers covered head to toe in black, with the traditional brightly coloured, jangly belly dancing costume over the top. The acrobats were also phenomenal to see and I'm sure if we spoke Arabic we would have happily listened to the stories being told. We were not quite so enamoured of the monkeys kept on chains, or the snakes which we assume must have been defanged.
From the chaotic streets we would enter a door and be transported to another place entirely. Many of the buildings are built around a central courtyard or garden, allowing you to be outside in completely peaceful surrounds. We visited a number of buildings, palaces from another era or schools no longer in use, and marvelled at the intricate plasterwork and mosaics. Interestingly the most beautiful parts of the buildings were often the ceilings and we now have permanent cricks in our necks.
From the chaotic streets we would enter a door and be transported to another place entirely. Many of the buildings are built around a central courtyard or garden, allowing you to be outside in completely peaceful surrounds. We visited a number of buildings, palaces from another era or schools no longer in use, and marvelled at the intricate plasterwork and mosaics. Interestingly the most beautiful parts of the buildings were often the ceilings and we now have permanent cricks in our necks.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Ciao
Our time in Italy was wonderful. Verona is a beautiful city, and we were both amused that the tourism industry is based around fictional characters. I'm sure rubbing Juliet's right breasts will bring singletons luck in finding a partner, however we decided against adding a padlock to the gate of Juliet's house. It seems to me pining after a relationship which ends with both partners killing themselves is rather odd. From Verona we made our way to Cinque Terra, a stunning part of the Italian coast with charming villages cascading into the sea. All the while we enjoyed the food, from fancy meals with my parents to local produce in the Cinque Terra, and our waistlines have expanded to prove it!
The highlight of Italy, however, was the people. I don't mean the strangers who lift your day, but I do mean the strangers who become your family. This story is vastly simplified, as those who are part of it will know, and of course this only represents my understanding of what occurred.
Many years ago, when my mother was still learning how to talk, her parents got divorced. For reasons that remain mostly unknown her father did not retain contact with her, and although she knew he remarried and had three more children, she never met her half-siblings. Fast forward 50 years...
In 2007 I had a fleeting, yet passionate, interest in my family tree and during this time I found a forum for people interested in genealogy. In my one and only post I gave the details I had of my grandfather, asking how I should go about finding more information. Being rather skeptical of unknown websites I gave a dodgy email address that I never check and just use as a depository for junk mail. My interest waned and I quickly forgot about that post. Fast forward 5 years...
It's now 2012 and in Italy Nicci decides to google her father's name, to see if there is anything about his accomplishments. She comes across a post about 'Walter Henry Nightingale' and the details make it clear this is her father. She calls her sister, Sue, who lives in London and Sue replies to the post. "Walter Henry Nightingale was my father." The reply goes to an email address that is never checked. Fast forward 4 months...
My mother puts her father's name into google, an activity she does every 6-12 months hoping for something, but not sure what. This time, something was found. Within days the sisters Olivia, Nicci and Sue had made contact and all our families made larger and no doubt more interesting! I have four aunts, not two and twelve cousins, not four. The final coincidence was that a trip to Europe had already been booked, not just for us, but for my parents too.
We joined my parents in Rome, where I met "Auntie Nicci", Enrico, Giulia and Ellen. So the highlight of Italy was meeting new family and seeing my mother delight in being a big sister.
The highlight of Italy, however, was the people. I don't mean the strangers who lift your day, but I do mean the strangers who become your family. This story is vastly simplified, as those who are part of it will know, and of course this only represents my understanding of what occurred.
Many years ago, when my mother was still learning how to talk, her parents got divorced. For reasons that remain mostly unknown her father did not retain contact with her, and although she knew he remarried and had three more children, she never met her half-siblings. Fast forward 50 years...
In 2007 I had a fleeting, yet passionate, interest in my family tree and during this time I found a forum for people interested in genealogy. In my one and only post I gave the details I had of my grandfather, asking how I should go about finding more information. Being rather skeptical of unknown websites I gave a dodgy email address that I never check and just use as a depository for junk mail. My interest waned and I quickly forgot about that post. Fast forward 5 years...
It's now 2012 and in Italy Nicci decides to google her father's name, to see if there is anything about his accomplishments. She comes across a post about 'Walter Henry Nightingale' and the details make it clear this is her father. She calls her sister, Sue, who lives in London and Sue replies to the post. "Walter Henry Nightingale was my father." The reply goes to an email address that is never checked. Fast forward 4 months...
My mother puts her father's name into google, an activity she does every 6-12 months hoping for something, but not sure what. This time, something was found. Within days the sisters Olivia, Nicci and Sue had made contact and all our families made larger and no doubt more interesting! I have four aunts, not two and twelve cousins, not four. The final coincidence was that a trip to Europe had already been booked, not just for us, but for my parents too.
We joined my parents in Rome, where I met "Auntie Nicci", Enrico, Giulia and Ellen. So the highlight of Italy was meeting new family and seeing my mother delight in being a big sister.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Looking like a local
In Jordan I naturally stood out as a tourist and in Sweden I was generally greeted in English, not matching the blond haired, blue eyed Scandinavian look. In Italy I apparently look like I belong. Within 24 hours I had a car pull over to ask me directions, 2 Italians ask me which train they should catch and whilst waiting to use the train toilet another Italian asked me how long until the train got to his destination. These questions were all asked in Italian, so I did my best to answer in gestures so as to avoid ruining my appearance as a local. I was also assumed to be a local by an American tourist who asked if I knew the owner of the property he was supposed to stay at in Riomaggiore, as he couldn't find the place. Possibly this is a sign that I should move to Italy!
Monday, April 8, 2013
Fair Italia
It's been over 11 years since we were last in Italy and although we remembered loving the country, we couldn't quite remember why. I think it may have been the people.
With a continual shortage of Internet access we had hurriedly made a booking for a hotel in Verona whilst in Kronach. We were shocked by the prices and confused as to why out of 176 hotels listed on the website only 12 were available. If we had more time we might have discovered that Verona is hosting Europe's largest and reportedly best, wine festival. As our landlord told us, the worst time to be a tourist and best time to run a hotel as prices soar.
After 9 long hours on the train we followed what seemed incomprehensible directions which led us to an apartment block. With some confusion we inspected the names on the buzzers, found our b&b listed, but received no response when we pressed the button. Luckily one of the other residents, a charming old man, was entering and took an interest in us. As my non-existent Italian was better than his English our conversation was in single words more or less.
"No response?" "No response" "you must telephone" "no telephone" etc.
The lack of response was not entirely unexpected as the notes when we booked had said we needed to be specific with arrival times so that they would be there and we were half an hour early. Our unexpected companion took us in to the building, told us that the b&b was on the top floor and if they weren't there to come down and knock on his door and he would call for us. All using one or two word phrases, with gestures as needed. Generosity of strangers, part 1.
When our landlord, Maurizio, arrived he was exuberant, friendly and devastated we weren't spending more time in his beloved city. After spending a pleasant half hour chatting he had us convinced we needed at least a week in Verona, although he suggested we should come back later in our trip once prices became reasonable again. Only a few minutes after saying "Ciao" he was back agin to retrieve the Nutella from his pockets for our breakfast. Nutella is always going to endear someone to me.
As it was already 8:30pm by this stage we decided to head straight to the train station to work out when we would need to leave the next day. On the way to the station I heard "Ellen!" as Maurizio stopped his bicycle in front of us and proudly announced he was quicker than us. Feeling momentarily confused we found out he had already been to the station, enquired about what train we should take, and had the print out from the information desk in hand. Generosity of strangers, part 2.
With no further need of the train station we did an about face to find the restaurant Maurizio had recommended. After polishing off 2 delicious pizzas, our bill arrived and the waiter with a large smile gave us 2 glasses of limoncello. Mmmm limoncello! No other table seemed to be receiving limoncello and the pizza cost less than a glass of it would at home. Feeling nicely warm and fuzzy we assigned it to the generosity of strangers (or restaurants) part 3.
Yep, think it may have been the people that made us love Italy.
With a continual shortage of Internet access we had hurriedly made a booking for a hotel in Verona whilst in Kronach. We were shocked by the prices and confused as to why out of 176 hotels listed on the website only 12 were available. If we had more time we might have discovered that Verona is hosting Europe's largest and reportedly best, wine festival. As our landlord told us, the worst time to be a tourist and best time to run a hotel as prices soar.
After 9 long hours on the train we followed what seemed incomprehensible directions which led us to an apartment block. With some confusion we inspected the names on the buzzers, found our b&b listed, but received no response when we pressed the button. Luckily one of the other residents, a charming old man, was entering and took an interest in us. As my non-existent Italian was better than his English our conversation was in single words more or less.
"No response?" "No response" "you must telephone" "no telephone" etc.
The lack of response was not entirely unexpected as the notes when we booked had said we needed to be specific with arrival times so that they would be there and we were half an hour early. Our unexpected companion took us in to the building, told us that the b&b was on the top floor and if they weren't there to come down and knock on his door and he would call for us. All using one or two word phrases, with gestures as needed. Generosity of strangers, part 1.
When our landlord, Maurizio, arrived he was exuberant, friendly and devastated we weren't spending more time in his beloved city. After spending a pleasant half hour chatting he had us convinced we needed at least a week in Verona, although he suggested we should come back later in our trip once prices became reasonable again. Only a few minutes after saying "Ciao" he was back agin to retrieve the Nutella from his pockets for our breakfast. Nutella is always going to endear someone to me.
As it was already 8:30pm by this stage we decided to head straight to the train station to work out when we would need to leave the next day. On the way to the station I heard "Ellen!" as Maurizio stopped his bicycle in front of us and proudly announced he was quicker than us. Feeling momentarily confused we found out he had already been to the station, enquired about what train we should take, and had the print out from the information desk in hand. Generosity of strangers, part 2.
With no further need of the train station we did an about face to find the restaurant Maurizio had recommended. After polishing off 2 delicious pizzas, our bill arrived and the waiter with a large smile gave us 2 glasses of limoncello. Mmmm limoncello! No other table seemed to be receiving limoncello and the pizza cost less than a glass of it would at home. Feeling nicely warm and fuzzy we assigned it to the generosity of strangers (or restaurants) part 3.
Yep, think it may have been the people that made us love Italy.
Germany
I always hate writing posts about people who read the blog (Clare, Stephen), which leads to me writing very little of importance. After all rambling on about the pleasures involved in seeing old friends may come across as sappy and sentimental, a large deviation from the cavalier adventurous tone I usually aim for.
In planning for this trip we struggled to maintain our pack light philosophy whilst taking sufficient clothing to survive in -30 degrees. Our cunning strategy involved taking an extra bag than normal that we could fill with cold weather clothing and leave at Stockholm airport whilst in Jordan, and then with Clare and Guntram whilst we travelled in Europe. This plan worked perfectly until we got to Berlin on April 1st, when the newspaper proclaimed that it had been the coldest March in 130 years. I know Germany in spring isn't as hot as Australia in spring, but -4 is a little ridiculous. So with winter jackets in tow again we headed south for a week in Kronach, a charming old town in the middle of Germany. If everyone could just ask the weather gods to warm Berlin up in time for Clare's spring wedding in 3 weeks, that would be appreciated.
There should be something in here about being pampered with train trips and accommodation organised by someone else. Long walks, conversation and home cooked meals. But that might sound sappy, so I'll skip it. Possibly I should also mention tears and bad news for memories sake, but again that detracts from the overall tone so it too shall be skipped over.
In planning for this trip we struggled to maintain our pack light philosophy whilst taking sufficient clothing to survive in -30 degrees. Our cunning strategy involved taking an extra bag than normal that we could fill with cold weather clothing and leave at Stockholm airport whilst in Jordan, and then with Clare and Guntram whilst we travelled in Europe. This plan worked perfectly until we got to Berlin on April 1st, when the newspaper proclaimed that it had been the coldest March in 130 years. I know Germany in spring isn't as hot as Australia in spring, but -4 is a little ridiculous. So with winter jackets in tow again we headed south for a week in Kronach, a charming old town in the middle of Germany. If everyone could just ask the weather gods to warm Berlin up in time for Clare's spring wedding in 3 weeks, that would be appreciated.
There should be something in here about being pampered with train trips and accommodation organised by someone else. Long walks, conversation and home cooked meals. But that might sound sappy, so I'll skip it. Possibly I should also mention tears and bad news for memories sake, but again that detracts from the overall tone so it too shall be skipped over.
Spontaneity
The second half of this trip was never quite as planned as the first half. We knew we were going to see Clare, then meet new relatives in Rome and spend two weeks in Italy before making our way to England. Sitting on the plane out from Jordan we decided to analyse the map of Europe for inspiration on where to go in Italy. As we drew theoretical lines and proposed locations based on name alone I noted that Morocco was really not that far from Italy. It's not that we had ever proposed Morocco as part of this trip, or even that it was on the list for the next 5 trips we have planned. It's just that it was there. With no actual thoughts on where we would go or what we would do the idea of going to Morocco gathered momentum and our excitement levels rose.
Twelve hours later, having obtained Internet access, we spent an hour picking place names that sound exotic and in fits of giggles purchased a flight to Marrakech! Now we need to locate a guidebook. This may be challenging as we are heading to a small German town where English guidebooks to Morocco are probably in short supply.
Twelve hours later, having obtained Internet access, we spent an hour picking place names that sound exotic and in fits of giggles purchased a flight to Marrakech! Now we need to locate a guidebook. This may be challenging as we are heading to a small German town where English guidebooks to Morocco are probably in short supply.
The Red and Dead Seas
Our last few days in Jordan were a chance to relax and enjoy some warmth before returning to unseasonably cold weather in Germany. After being dropped at the rather expensive hotel our Danish friends were staying at we hoisted our bags and headed off to find somewhere to stay. We ended up in the highly recommended My Hotel with 30% off the rack rate making it excellent value. It became even better value when we checked out and they gave us 13JD. The person giving us the money was not able to tell us why, just that it was for us. We have nice smiles maybe?
As we were eyeing off the brochure on snorkelling day trips the helpful hotelier told us there was a boat trip tomorrow going to Pharaoh Island in Egypt with snorkelling. It sounded good to us so we handed over some money and our passports with very little idea of what to expect. Having done a few boat trips in 3rd world countries we were anticipating a slightly dilapidated tinny as our home for the day. So as we were heading down the pier towards a rather magnificent yacht with the four other people going on our trip we made jokes about that actually being our boat, whilst fully expecting to see our small dodgy tin boat just behind it. We were, however, ushered aboard the yacht with a welcoming drink and quickly reassessed our expectations for the day.
It seemed rather unlikely that the 6 passengers would be enough to pay for the boat with the large number of crew on board, and sure enough a bus load of tourists arrived. Our fellow passengers hailed from a cruise ship, The Minerva, which travelled the world in 2 week bursts. As this was the changeover day, with most passengers leaving and a new group arriving, the group who were staying on for the next leg were sent on this day trip to vacate the cruise ship. We were reminded that we are not cruise or tour types as we explored the castle and the guide called "Minerva, Minerva, to me" every time someone dared break from the group formation. We didn't punch him in the head, it took great restraint.
From snorkelling in the Red Sea we went to bobbing in the Dead Sea. As we slipped off the end of the floating pier we bobbed back up, as if wearing a particularly buoyant lifevest. We engaged in the usual tourist activities of reading books whilst floating, and smothering ourselves in the Dead Sea mud.
It feels much too soon to leave Jordan. We wanted to come, but we've enjoyed our time here much more than expected.
As we were eyeing off the brochure on snorkelling day trips the helpful hotelier told us there was a boat trip tomorrow going to Pharaoh Island in Egypt with snorkelling. It sounded good to us so we handed over some money and our passports with very little idea of what to expect. Having done a few boat trips in 3rd world countries we were anticipating a slightly dilapidated tinny as our home for the day. So as we were heading down the pier towards a rather magnificent yacht with the four other people going on our trip we made jokes about that actually being our boat, whilst fully expecting to see our small dodgy tin boat just behind it. We were, however, ushered aboard the yacht with a welcoming drink and quickly reassessed our expectations for the day.
It seemed rather unlikely that the 6 passengers would be enough to pay for the boat with the large number of crew on board, and sure enough a bus load of tourists arrived. Our fellow passengers hailed from a cruise ship, The Minerva, which travelled the world in 2 week bursts. As this was the changeover day, with most passengers leaving and a new group arriving, the group who were staying on for the next leg were sent on this day trip to vacate the cruise ship. We were reminded that we are not cruise or tour types as we explored the castle and the guide called "Minerva, Minerva, to me" every time someone dared break from the group formation. We didn't punch him in the head, it took great restraint.
From snorkelling in the Red Sea we went to bobbing in the Dead Sea. As we slipped off the end of the floating pier we bobbed back up, as if wearing a particularly buoyant lifevest. We engaged in the usual tourist activities of reading books whilst floating, and smothering ourselves in the Dead Sea mud.
It feels much too soon to leave Jordan. We wanted to come, but we've enjoyed our time here much more than expected.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Birthday Unpresent
Our time in the desert ended with a 5am wake up call. For Jason's birthday I was giving him a hot air balloon ride over the desert and that meant an early start. The sky when we woke up was amazing. The nearest lights were hundreds of kilometres away, the moon had set and there was not a hint of dawn. The night sky was filled with stars and the Milky Way shone above us. Unfortunately when we got to the balloon the pilot decided it was too windy to fly.
After some consideration we decided to stay at the horrendously overpriced hotel, Bait Ali Lodge, from where the balloon trip left and try again the next day. Unfortunately the next day the weather was even worse so we won't be doing the hot air balloon ride, and I have to find another present for Jason.
During our day at Bait Ali we met a lovely family from Copenhagen who were also planning on doing the balloon trip and then heading to Aqaba. The father, Peter, was great fun and generously offered us a lift for Aqaba. In truth I think he wanted the company as his two teenage children stuck ear phones on as soon as they got in the car and refused to talk to him. He was very well travelled and we had great discussions about various places in the world. When discussing Tasmania he mentioned he had a friend, Mary, from there who was always saying great things about it. Later in the conversation it turned out that this friend was actually the princess!
After some consideration we decided to stay at the horrendously overpriced hotel, Bait Ali Lodge, from where the balloon trip left and try again the next day. Unfortunately the next day the weather was even worse so we won't be doing the hot air balloon ride, and I have to find another present for Jason.
During our day at Bait Ali we met a lovely family from Copenhagen who were also planning on doing the balloon trip and then heading to Aqaba. The father, Peter, was great fun and generously offered us a lift for Aqaba. In truth I think he wanted the company as his two teenage children stuck ear phones on as soon as they got in the car and refused to talk to him. He was very well travelled and we had great discussions about various places in the world. When discussing Tasmania he mentioned he had a friend, Mary, from there who was always saying great things about it. Later in the conversation it turned out that this friend was actually the princess!
Wadi Rum
The most common way to explore the desert is with a jeep tour followed by a night in a Beduoin camp. Camel rides are also popular. We, on the other hand, had signed up for a 2 day trek with some scrambling involved. Now we didn't actually have much idea what 'scrambling' was in the Jordanian sense, but we were soon to find out.
Our first walk was through a canyon, or at least that's what we were told. I have this strange idea that canyons have two steep sides and a flattish area at the bottom that you can walk along, or a river may flow. This wasn't that sort of canyon. When our charming guide, Abdullah, stopped the car we appeared to be staring at the side of a mountain. There were a number of cracks and fissures, but certainly no obvious entrance. Undeterred Abdullah pointed straight up one area and told us that's where we were going.
Within 15 minutes of climbing, scrambling and trekking up the slope our thighs were burning, we were out of breath and not quite sure why we hadn't stuck with the jeep tour. Scrambling apparently involved climbing walls that made us long for rock climbing shoes, and at times a rope would have been nice too. Abdullah liked to joke and tease us that we were about to head up particularly impossible looking rock faces, telling us we would have to climb like Spider-Man. It was for this reason that when we reached a point that the track most definitely ended, with a sheer drop of around 3m, and he made the same comment I chuckled quietly. Then he put his hands on the rocks on either side, of what now seemed a gaping chasm, and with arms and legs outstretched made his way to the other side. After swallowing the lump in my throat I decided to trust my body and follow suit. We quickly came to look forward to the Spider-Man cry as it undoubtedly led to something fun, and something we would never attempt without the guide.
Our next surprise was later that day on our way to lunch. He asked us if we would like to walk before lunch. After we agreed he pointed to a far off mountain, told us there was a canyon and that he would be in there. We were left somewhat dumbstruck alone in the middle of a desert with a vague idea of where to go.
This became the theme for the next two days, with either scrambles that he would lead us on or walks that we could do alone. The hike I had most been looking forward was up to a rock bridge. Given the difficulty of the previous days walks we were slightly apprehensive when he packed a rope that morning. Nevertheless we followed him up the mountain, quickly catching up to a Polish couple who were doing the same trek. It was just before the rock bridge that the rope was considered necessary as we had to ascend about 5m straight up.
When it was time to head back down we managed to convince Abdullah to take us the way that was "a little bit harder". Saying good bye to the Polish couple who were a little less comfortable with climbing and heights than us we ventured onto our new route. It was, indeed, a little bit harder. Then we came to a fabulous viewpoint. The mountain dropped away beneath us and the scenery was breath taking. At this point Abdullah pointed to a crack in the rockface below us and told us that was where we were going. Compared to the short climb we had used the rope for earlier this was mammoth! He pointed out where the anchor points were for using a rope, and then proceeded to make his way down the crack. For about 40m we carefully made our way down the cliff, moving one limb at a time and holding on for dear life!
Our first walk was through a canyon, or at least that's what we were told. I have this strange idea that canyons have two steep sides and a flattish area at the bottom that you can walk along, or a river may flow. This wasn't that sort of canyon. When our charming guide, Abdullah, stopped the car we appeared to be staring at the side of a mountain. There were a number of cracks and fissures, but certainly no obvious entrance. Undeterred Abdullah pointed straight up one area and told us that's where we were going.
Within 15 minutes of climbing, scrambling and trekking up the slope our thighs were burning, we were out of breath and not quite sure why we hadn't stuck with the jeep tour. Scrambling apparently involved climbing walls that made us long for rock climbing shoes, and at times a rope would have been nice too. Abdullah liked to joke and tease us that we were about to head up particularly impossible looking rock faces, telling us we would have to climb like Spider-Man. It was for this reason that when we reached a point that the track most definitely ended, with a sheer drop of around 3m, and he made the same comment I chuckled quietly. Then he put his hands on the rocks on either side, of what now seemed a gaping chasm, and with arms and legs outstretched made his way to the other side. After swallowing the lump in my throat I decided to trust my body and follow suit. We quickly came to look forward to the Spider-Man cry as it undoubtedly led to something fun, and something we would never attempt without the guide.
Our next surprise was later that day on our way to lunch. He asked us if we would like to walk before lunch. After we agreed he pointed to a far off mountain, told us there was a canyon and that he would be in there. We were left somewhat dumbstruck alone in the middle of a desert with a vague idea of where to go.
This became the theme for the next two days, with either scrambles that he would lead us on or walks that we could do alone. The hike I had most been looking forward was up to a rock bridge. Given the difficulty of the previous days walks we were slightly apprehensive when he packed a rope that morning. Nevertheless we followed him up the mountain, quickly catching up to a Polish couple who were doing the same trek. It was just before the rock bridge that the rope was considered necessary as we had to ascend about 5m straight up.
When it was time to head back down we managed to convince Abdullah to take us the way that was "a little bit harder". Saying good bye to the Polish couple who were a little less comfortable with climbing and heights than us we ventured onto our new route. It was, indeed, a little bit harder. Then we came to a fabulous viewpoint. The mountain dropped away beneath us and the scenery was breath taking. At this point Abdullah pointed to a crack in the rockface below us and told us that was where we were going. Compared to the short climb we had used the rope for earlier this was mammoth! He pointed out where the anchor points were for using a rope, and then proceeded to make his way down the crack. For about 40m we carefully made our way down the cliff, moving one limb at a time and holding on for dear life!
Petra day 3 - 20km
Aware that we had a two day trek in the desert coming up, we decided to take it a bit easy today. In hindsight having the trek just after Petra was not such a bright idea, but we hadn't realised just how much walking would be involved. It was around 9km round trip just to the start of the city, plus whatever walking we did from there. So, on the last day we climbed to the high place of sacrifice, without getting lost for a change. We did indulge our rock climbing fix once at the top, finding some nice bouldering routes.
Petra day 2 - 30km
Just as I was about to start this post I was loudly reminded of the fact that we are eating a lot of chickpeas which affect jason in a similar way to baked beans! Sorry, but it had to be said.
On our second day in Petra we got lost, again. After the early start the day before we enjoyed a proper sleep-in, getting to the entrance around 11am. Today's plan was to see the Royal Tombs and to get to see the Treasury from up above. The first tomb we came to was the Urn Tomb, from there the path we planned to take went left. But we saw steps going up to the right. Before we knew it we were again following the next set of steps carved into the rock 2000 years ago and the next and the next. At times the steps would disappear, but we would find a part of the cliff that looked possible to climb and head that way. Or we would become stuck unsure how to climb down an area, only to go the long way so we could climb up it and then climb down! We spent hours exploring the canyons and cliffs, always heading further up. Once we reached the top, we hoped that we were somewhere in the vicinity of the Treasury so we could get to see it from above. In an attempt to get our bearings we climbed to the highest point we could, and then scrambled along the ridges to try and find the viewpoint. After many meandering, scrambles, and occasional periods of vertigo we finally had a great view of the Treasury far below us and the viewpoint we were aiming for about half way between us and the Treasury!
On our second day in Petra we got lost, again. After the early start the day before we enjoyed a proper sleep-in, getting to the entrance around 11am. Today's plan was to see the Royal Tombs and to get to see the Treasury from up above. The first tomb we came to was the Urn Tomb, from there the path we planned to take went left. But we saw steps going up to the right. Before we knew it we were again following the next set of steps carved into the rock 2000 years ago and the next and the next. At times the steps would disappear, but we would find a part of the cliff that looked possible to climb and head that way. Or we would become stuck unsure how to climb down an area, only to go the long way so we could climb up it and then climb down! We spent hours exploring the canyons and cliffs, always heading further up. Once we reached the top, we hoped that we were somewhere in the vicinity of the Treasury so we could get to see it from above. In an attempt to get our bearings we climbed to the highest point we could, and then scrambled along the ridges to try and find the viewpoint. After many meandering, scrambles, and occasional periods of vertigo we finally had a great view of the Treasury far below us and the viewpoint we were aiming for about half way between us and the Treasury!
Petra Day 1 - 30km
Despite most definitely not being morning people we made the decision to get to Petra around opening time (6am) to have the Siq and Treasury mainly to ourselves, and that beautiful sunrise light. The gate opened at 6am as expected. The ticket office, on the other hand, opens when the first ticket seller gets there. It was suggested to us that this may be between 6:30 and 7, but there was no way for us to get in until then. After 45 minutes of waiting and watching the night give way to dawn the ticket office opened at 7am. During this time a herd of American uni students had turned up and they were not a happy group. We heard all kinds of grievances, fights and squabbles in the 20 minutes we all waited together. We therefore grabbed out tickets as quickly as possible and tried to get as much distance between us and them before entering the Siq.
We were mostly successful and got to enjoy having the Treasury to ourselves for a few precious minutes. The walk down the canyon and the first view of the Treasury were spectacular and exactly what you see in photos. The rest of Petra was totally unknown and unexpected.
Petra is absolutely huge. It's nearly 3km from the entrance to the Treasury and that is really just the start. Once you emerge from the canyon system it becomes obvious that there are hundreds, most likely thousands, of tombs and cave houses. Unsurprisingly we were soon lost.
Having passed through the main city centre we planned to go to the Monastery, which is the Treasury only much bigger and more impressive. It's only less famous due to the fact it's another 6km walk to get there, a large part of that directly up many hundreds of steps. As we got close to where the trail to the Monastery starts we noticed some steps, so we started climbing. We soon found ourselves in a very little trodden area with spectacular colours and shapes carved into the rock. We were continually drawn to the next tomb, the next shape of rock. The rock is amazing, with stripes of pink, white, yellow, black creating beautiful patterns. After an hour or more, we headed back down to the bottom of the mountain we were on to start the journey up the next mountain to the Monastery. This being the more frequented part of Petra we were soon bombarded with offers of donkey rides up to the top. The best of these was the offer of "taxi with free air conditioning!"
After 7 hours of walking we returned to our hotel (another 1.5km up the hill from Petra) to eat and rest for a bit. Just before 8pm we were again walking down the road to Petra for our opportunity to see it by moon and candlelight. Over 1500 candles were placed along the 3km trail from the entrance to the Treasury and 2 by 2 we walked along seeing the stone in a whole new light. Once we arrived into the main chamber with hundreds of candles providing a beautiful soft glow, we were seated, given tea and treated to traditional Bedioun music. Magic!
We were mostly successful and got to enjoy having the Treasury to ourselves for a few precious minutes. The walk down the canyon and the first view of the Treasury were spectacular and exactly what you see in photos. The rest of Petra was totally unknown and unexpected.
Petra is absolutely huge. It's nearly 3km from the entrance to the Treasury and that is really just the start. Once you emerge from the canyon system it becomes obvious that there are hundreds, most likely thousands, of tombs and cave houses. Unsurprisingly we were soon lost.
Having passed through the main city centre we planned to go to the Monastery, which is the Treasury only much bigger and more impressive. It's only less famous due to the fact it's another 6km walk to get there, a large part of that directly up many hundreds of steps. As we got close to where the trail to the Monastery starts we noticed some steps, so we started climbing. We soon found ourselves in a very little trodden area with spectacular colours and shapes carved into the rock. We were continually drawn to the next tomb, the next shape of rock. The rock is amazing, with stripes of pink, white, yellow, black creating beautiful patterns. After an hour or more, we headed back down to the bottom of the mountain we were on to start the journey up the next mountain to the Monastery. This being the more frequented part of Petra we were soon bombarded with offers of donkey rides up to the top. The best of these was the offer of "taxi with free air conditioning!"
After 7 hours of walking we returned to our hotel (another 1.5km up the hill from Petra) to eat and rest for a bit. Just before 8pm we were again walking down the road to Petra for our opportunity to see it by moon and candlelight. Over 1500 candles were placed along the 3km trail from the entrance to the Treasury and 2 by 2 we walked along seeing the stone in a whole new light. Once we arrived into the main chamber with hundreds of candles providing a beautiful soft glow, we were seated, given tea and treated to traditional Bedioun music. Magic!
Wild Endurance
Just under a year ago 6 friends, us included, attempted to walk 100km in 36 hours. Although we had trained for the event, it was obviously not enough as none of us were successful. The idea of doing it again this year with a much harder training regime was raised, however given that the event is around the time we get back home we thought there was no way we would be able to train for it. We hadn't factored in Jordan. 150km in 5 days, approximately.
Oh, and we haven't had Internet in for quite some time, have done a lot and typed up a lot of blogs on the ipad. I have 15 minutes to see how many I can upload. You are warned!
Oh, and we haven't had Internet in for quite some time, have done a lot and typed up a lot of blogs on the ipad. I have 15 minutes to see how many I can upload. You are warned!
Monday, March 18, 2013
Northern Jordan
When we announced that we were going to Jordan a number of people raised some concerns about safety, prompted no doubt by the wars in every neighbouring country. Unperturbed we showed them the smarttraveller website which indicates that Jordan is generally safe. The only area that is listed under the "DO NOT TRAVEL" banner is the far north at the Syrian border. It specifically mentions not to go to Umm Qais. So naturally on our first day in Jordan we found ourselves at Umm Qais.
Now we had no actual intention of going there, we really wanted to go to Jerash. On arrival at our hotel we were asked whether we wanted to join a tour going either to the Dead Sea, or one to Jerash. As the latter had been the plan all along, we said yes. We had, rather naively, assumed that the tour would no longer head all the way up to the Syrian border. We were wrong. Tour is also probably the wrong word as it was us, Terry from France with a driver to take us to the sights.
After exploring the fairly impressive ruins of Jerash, and the charming castle at Aljun we were off to Umm Qais. As we were approaching the town our driver asked us, in his rather stilted English, whether we wanted lunch. Sandwich? Falafel? We nodded yes. He stopped the car and gestured for us to stay, or come, we weren't entirely sure. He returned a few minutes later with falafel wraps, for which he declined payment and we were off to the next set of ruins. Umm Qais was certainly not the most impressive ruin, but the views were absolutely sublime. Standing at the lookout we could see Israel to our left and Syria stretched out to our right. Spectacular and, as it turns out, perfectly safe to travel to, at least it was yesterday.
Now we had no actual intention of going there, we really wanted to go to Jerash. On arrival at our hotel we were asked whether we wanted to join a tour going either to the Dead Sea, or one to Jerash. As the latter had been the plan all along, we said yes. We had, rather naively, assumed that the tour would no longer head all the way up to the Syrian border. We were wrong. Tour is also probably the wrong word as it was us, Terry from France with a driver to take us to the sights.
After exploring the fairly impressive ruins of Jerash, and the charming castle at Aljun we were off to Umm Qais. As we were approaching the town our driver asked us, in his rather stilted English, whether we wanted lunch. Sandwich? Falafel? We nodded yes. He stopped the car and gestured for us to stay, or come, we weren't entirely sure. He returned a few minutes later with falafel wraps, for which he declined payment and we were off to the next set of ruins. Umm Qais was certainly not the most impressive ruin, but the views were absolutely sublime. Standing at the lookout we could see Israel to our left and Syria stretched out to our right. Spectacular and, as it turns out, perfectly safe to travel to, at least it was yesterday.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Culture Shock
After the ease of travelling in Sweden, Jordan came as a shock. We very nearly didn't actually make it into the country. Sweden is heading towards becoming a cashless society, so even $3 train tickets were bought by card through a machine. Jordan is not quite there yet. On arrival we went to pay for our visas with MasterCard. "No, visa only." Ok, no problem and we hand over the Visa card. Declined. Try the other visa. Declined. "Machine broken, get change."
So, we became one of an ever increasing number of tourists who didn't have any Jordanian Dinar. There was an ATM, but we couldn't get that to give up any money. We did have our emergency $50 (US), but that wasn't quite enough for the two visas. After some rummaging in our bags and negotiation with the money changer we got the necessary funds with the US$50 and $10 Australian. One other guy was not so lucky at finding funds and was simply told to ask the other passengers for money.
Once out of the airport it became obvious that lane markings are considered decoration, rather than suggesting where cars should drive. Some drivers (ours included) seemed to think the road wide enough for four lanes, however other drivers thought three was more appropriate. This led to an interesting traffic pattern, which I'm sure was less efficient than actually obeying road rules.
Our hotel is in the middle of downtown, where it is noisy, chaotic, and slightly overwhelming at first. Our driver couldn't find a place to park, so he called two guys from the hotel to come and collect us from where he had simply stopped. We felt a little silly waiting to be helped across a road, but not so silly as to try it by ourselves.
We have just come back from dinner and this feels like travel! Following a recommendation from our hotel we found this place where you get ushered to a table, asked what you want, have that ignored and food starts appearing. Dinner consisted of the best falafel I have ever tasted, with hummus, some bean dish, bread and weirdly hot chips. Before eating I had asked how much and was told "5 or 6 dinar". However at the end of the meal our money was taken by someone else and it cost 3.500 instead.
The extra 1.500 didn't go to waste. Walking back to the hotel we were on the look out for a sweet shop mentioned in the lonely planet. At about the expected location we saw a long line of locals lining up outside what turned out to be said sweet shop. There was a cashier out the front and signs in Arabic suggested you could pay for items ranging between 0.550 and 4 dinar. This meant there was no option for pointing. After some dithering we joined the queue and once we reached the front proffered 2 dinar and shrugged when he asked what we wanted. He told us we would have two halves, gave us change and we then had to battle to get into the actual shop and give our bit of paper to someone. Jason managed to use his height to procure our food fairly quickly. It turned out to be soft white cheese on the bottom, with sticky sweet stuff on the top. I have no idea what it was, but it was completely delicious!
Ok, I now know it's called Konafa in case you're interested.
So, we became one of an ever increasing number of tourists who didn't have any Jordanian Dinar. There was an ATM, but we couldn't get that to give up any money. We did have our emergency $50 (US), but that wasn't quite enough for the two visas. After some rummaging in our bags and negotiation with the money changer we got the necessary funds with the US$50 and $10 Australian. One other guy was not so lucky at finding funds and was simply told to ask the other passengers for money.
Once out of the airport it became obvious that lane markings are considered decoration, rather than suggesting where cars should drive. Some drivers (ours included) seemed to think the road wide enough for four lanes, however other drivers thought three was more appropriate. This led to an interesting traffic pattern, which I'm sure was less efficient than actually obeying road rules.
Our hotel is in the middle of downtown, where it is noisy, chaotic, and slightly overwhelming at first. Our driver couldn't find a place to park, so he called two guys from the hotel to come and collect us from where he had simply stopped. We felt a little silly waiting to be helped across a road, but not so silly as to try it by ourselves.
We have just come back from dinner and this feels like travel! Following a recommendation from our hotel we found this place where you get ushered to a table, asked what you want, have that ignored and food starts appearing. Dinner consisted of the best falafel I have ever tasted, with hummus, some bean dish, bread and weirdly hot chips. Before eating I had asked how much and was told "5 or 6 dinar". However at the end of the meal our money was taken by someone else and it cost 3.500 instead.
The extra 1.500 didn't go to waste. Walking back to the hotel we were on the look out for a sweet shop mentioned in the lonely planet. At about the expected location we saw a long line of locals lining up outside what turned out to be said sweet shop. There was a cashier out the front and signs in Arabic suggested you could pay for items ranging between 0.550 and 4 dinar. This meant there was no option for pointing. After some dithering we joined the queue and once we reached the front proffered 2 dinar and shrugged when he asked what we wanted. He told us we would have two halves, gave us change and we then had to battle to get into the actual shop and give our bit of paper to someone. Jason managed to use his height to procure our food fairly quickly. It turned out to be soft white cheese on the bottom, with sticky sweet stuff on the top. I have no idea what it was, but it was completely delicious!
Ok, I now know it's called Konafa in case you're interested.
Farewell Sweden
Our last couple of days in Stockholm were nice and relaxing. After flying down from Kiruna we had the best meal we had eaten for a long time. It included salad, fresh vegetables and a noticeable absence of fried food, butter and bacon. Marcus was very fond of saying that bacon and butter had all the vitamins you need and his cooking reflected this philosophy.
The next day we met up with Sapna and walked around together until she had to go to the airport. In the afternoon we went to Skansen, which is marketed as Sweden in miniature. It consists of all these cottages and buildings built up to 400 years ago and transported to one location. In each building it is set up as it would have been in that era and there is a costumed actor to explain what the building was used for or how people lived in that time period.
The next day we spent time with Christiane. We had planned on going to the Royal Palace, but on discussion with some of the local press who were hanging around, we found out that it was closed for the funeral of Princess Lillian who had died the previous week. Having seen most of the places we wanted to, and feeling like we had done little physical activity we decided to go rock climbing! We did feel rather silly, but the centre was amazing and we felt so much better for it.
The next day we met up with Sapna and walked around together until she had to go to the airport. In the afternoon we went to Skansen, which is marketed as Sweden in miniature. It consists of all these cottages and buildings built up to 400 years ago and transported to one location. In each building it is set up as it would have been in that era and there is a costumed actor to explain what the building was used for or how people lived in that time period.
The next day we spent time with Christiane. We had planned on going to the Royal Palace, but on discussion with some of the local press who were hanging around, we found out that it was closed for the funeral of Princess Lillian who had died the previous week. Having seen most of the places we wanted to, and feeling like we had done little physical activity we decided to go rock climbing! We did feel rather silly, but the centre was amazing and we felt so much better for it.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Northern Lights
One of our hopes on this trip was to see the northern lights, however when we were looking at the weather forecast with Stephen it did not look good with clouds forecast every night. The first night we saw them I wasn't sure if that was what I was seeing at all. There was a glow on the horizon, a bit like a city in the distance, except there were no cities in that direction. After a lot of watching and discussion with Christiane, it was decided that it was the northern lights, but that they were a long way away and the only clouds around were between us and them. The next night we again saw a faint glow above us, but it was even less than the previous night. On night three the clouds had rolled in and obliterated our view of the sky, so we had decided there was no point even checking for the lights that night.
On my way back from the toilet before bed I noticed that the stars were again visible so I turned off my torch and turned my gaze skyward to see a greenish glow in the sky. It was still mild, but never the less I woke Jason up and went back outside to watch. We must have stayed outside for an hour or so, as the lights waxed and waned, changed shape, colour and intensity. Although we had technically seen the northern lights previously, this night I actually felt we saw them. Just brilliant!
On my way back from the toilet before bed I noticed that the stars were again visible so I turned off my torch and turned my gaze skyward to see a greenish glow in the sky. It was still mild, but never the less I woke Jason up and went back outside to watch. We must have stayed outside for an hour or so, as the lights waxed and waned, changed shape, colour and intensity. Although we had technically seen the northern lights previously, this night I actually felt we saw them. Just brilliant!
The simple life
There is a charm in returning to a world without electricity or running water. Sitting in a warm cabin, with a roaring fire and playing card games by candle light. The romance is lost somewhat when you need to go to the toilet. When we arrived at the first cabin it was -10, windy and snowing. The first thing we were shown was a tree with "Gentlemens" written on it, for midnight pee stops we were told. The actual drop toilet was 300m away and I assure you that in those conditions a toilet seat without heating is rather unpleasant, although it was made of polystyrene so heated up quickly.
Over the week our priorities became clear. As soon as we stopped for the day we had to get water and wood. Water had to be collected in 25 litre drums from a hole that had been made in the nearest lake or river. This was sometimes only a 5 minute walk, but at one cabin it was 700m away! Once at the hole we had to fill buckets with ice cold water and pour them into the larger container, inevitably getting our gloves wet in the process. Once full we had to drag it back to the cabin, knowing there would be another container that needed to be filled. Each day we went through about 150 litres. On our last water collecting trip Jason managed to make his own waterhole, going straight through the snow and ice, filling his boot with water. This was naturally at the waterhole 700m from the cabin meaning he had a very uncomfortable walk back, and the slight risk of frostbite each time he had to put his boots back on for toilet breaks that night.
Each cabin also had a wood shed where we would saw the logs down to size and split them with an axe. This was my preferred chore, although I am not a natural with an axe!
There were other occasions when the rustic nature of life was much less pleasant. B1 and B2 tended to engage in a bit of biffo whilst sledding along, and one day it became more serious. B1 had got her leg tangled in the rope and it took me a while to get her free, during which time there was a certain amount of growling and biting between the dogs. Later that day I noticed some blood on the snow and found a bite wound on B1's neck. Without proper medical supplies or vets handy this was fixed with the use of a staple gun.
Over the week our priorities became clear. As soon as we stopped for the day we had to get water and wood. Water had to be collected in 25 litre drums from a hole that had been made in the nearest lake or river. This was sometimes only a 5 minute walk, but at one cabin it was 700m away! Once at the hole we had to fill buckets with ice cold water and pour them into the larger container, inevitably getting our gloves wet in the process. Once full we had to drag it back to the cabin, knowing there would be another container that needed to be filled. Each day we went through about 150 litres. On our last water collecting trip Jason managed to make his own waterhole, going straight through the snow and ice, filling his boot with water. This was naturally at the waterhole 700m from the cabin meaning he had a very uncomfortable walk back, and the slight risk of frostbite each time he had to put his boots back on for toilet breaks that night.
Each cabin also had a wood shed where we would saw the logs down to size and split them with an axe. This was my preferred chore, although I am not a natural with an axe!
There were other occasions when the rustic nature of life was much less pleasant. B1 and B2 tended to engage in a bit of biffo whilst sledding along, and one day it became more serious. B1 had got her leg tangled in the rope and it took me a while to get her free, during which time there was a certain amount of growling and biting between the dogs. Later that day I noticed some blood on the snow and found a bite wound on B1's neck. Without proper medical supplies or vets handy this was fixed with the use of a staple gun.
Just don't think
Two readying breaths to fully absorb the warmth of the sauna. Then just run, door one to the washing room, door two to the change room, then through door three to the outside. Don't stop to think, just keep going.
"You're fucking crazy!"
I roll on to my back and look at the most amazing night sky. Just for a moment before running back to the sauna laughing harder than I have in years.
Christiane, who had introduced me to the idea of a snow break (stepping outside for a moment mid sauna to cool down), looked at me. "You're totally insane." Then more laughter. " I want to try it."
Sapna reluctantly agreed to join us. So once we are hot again all three of us run out to where it is -18 and jump in the snow wearing only our bikinis. Insanity is apparently catching.
"You're fucking crazy!"
I roll on to my back and look at the most amazing night sky. Just for a moment before running back to the sauna laughing harder than I have in years.
Christiane, who had introduced me to the idea of a snow break (stepping outside for a moment mid sauna to cool down), looked at me. "You're totally insane." Then more laughter. " I want to try it."
Sapna reluctantly agreed to join us. So once we are hot again all three of us run out to where it is -18 and jump in the snow wearing only our bikinis. Insanity is apparently catching.
Dog sledding
I had this vision of traversing white wilderness with the only sound being the swish of the sled on snow, but the reality was a mad cacophony of barking, whining and howling.
When we first arrived at the kennels we met our vaguely psychopathic guide Marcus. He proceeded to do the obligatory guide activity of regaling us with previous horror stories. Although as he had frostbite on his face from a snow storm he got caught in on the previous trip, these may not all have been exaggerated.
We were soon introduced to the rest of our group. Christiane, a purple haired geophysicist who had studied the northern lights in Alaska. Sapna, a sound technician who was on her first solo overseas adventure following a recent break-up. Frank, an anaesthetist from Belgium and Mario, the ubiquitous traveller who had done it all before. He really had, it was his eighth dog sledding tour. Together we were a fairly quiet group, comfortable with enjoying the surroundings in silence, the dogs not do much. The start of the dog sledding was deafening. There were 30 dogs, 7 sleds and 6 tourists wondering what we had got ourselves in for. How were we supposed to control 4 rambunctious huskies?
I had 2 black dogs in the lead, Nero and Hassle, with 2 white dogs behind who I'll call B1 and B2 as I had no hope of pronouncing their Swedish names, let alone spelling them. Hassle became a bit of a favourite as she was half the size of the other dogs, but seemed to have twice as much pulling power. Plus she was a total sook. I did get laughed at when I built up a wind break for her one night as she looked so cold.
The sled came with a variety of braking systems. A rope that could be attached to trees or posts when available. A snow hook that you had to stomp into the snow to secure the sled when stopped. A strong foot brake with massive spikes for slowing down the sled going downhill or stopping. A milder foot brake with two blades on the bottom to slow down if you were quicker than the person in front. The acceleration method involved lifting the brakes and letting the dogs go. My 4 had the ability to coordinate their leaps forward, so I would occasionally start moving despite applying all the brakes at my disposal.
Once the dogs were allowed to run the noise subsided and just as I'd hoped the only sound was the quiet swish of the sled on the snow. The scenery was spectacular. We started in birch forests, winding between trees, but soon we were high in the mountains travelling through valleys with mountains on all sides. We were incredibly lucky with the weather, mostly blue skies and little to no wind although it was a little chilly. The temperature was mostly around -15 during the day, dipping as low as -32 at night. The warmest day was also the day we weren't able to move due to the snow and high winds, it reached -9 that day!
The most magical moments were those times when I lost sight of everyone so it was really just me and my four dogs surrounded by a beautiful white wilderness.
When we first arrived at the kennels we met our vaguely psychopathic guide Marcus. He proceeded to do the obligatory guide activity of regaling us with previous horror stories. Although as he had frostbite on his face from a snow storm he got caught in on the previous trip, these may not all have been exaggerated.
We were soon introduced to the rest of our group. Christiane, a purple haired geophysicist who had studied the northern lights in Alaska. Sapna, a sound technician who was on her first solo overseas adventure following a recent break-up. Frank, an anaesthetist from Belgium and Mario, the ubiquitous traveller who had done it all before. He really had, it was his eighth dog sledding tour. Together we were a fairly quiet group, comfortable with enjoying the surroundings in silence, the dogs not do much. The start of the dog sledding was deafening. There were 30 dogs, 7 sleds and 6 tourists wondering what we had got ourselves in for. How were we supposed to control 4 rambunctious huskies?
I had 2 black dogs in the lead, Nero and Hassle, with 2 white dogs behind who I'll call B1 and B2 as I had no hope of pronouncing their Swedish names, let alone spelling them. Hassle became a bit of a favourite as she was half the size of the other dogs, but seemed to have twice as much pulling power. Plus she was a total sook. I did get laughed at when I built up a wind break for her one night as she looked so cold.
The sled came with a variety of braking systems. A rope that could be attached to trees or posts when available. A snow hook that you had to stomp into the snow to secure the sled when stopped. A strong foot brake with massive spikes for slowing down the sled going downhill or stopping. A milder foot brake with two blades on the bottom to slow down if you were quicker than the person in front. The acceleration method involved lifting the brakes and letting the dogs go. My 4 had the ability to coordinate their leaps forward, so I would occasionally start moving despite applying all the brakes at my disposal.
Once the dogs were allowed to run the noise subsided and just as I'd hoped the only sound was the quiet swish of the sled on the snow. The scenery was spectacular. We started in birch forests, winding between trees, but soon we were high in the mountains travelling through valleys with mountains on all sides. We were incredibly lucky with the weather, mostly blue skies and little to no wind although it was a little chilly. The temperature was mostly around -15 during the day, dipping as low as -32 at night. The warmest day was also the day we weren't able to move due to the snow and high winds, it reached -9 that day!
The most magical moments were those times when I lost sight of everyone so it was really just me and my four dogs surrounded by a beautiful white wilderness.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Stephen in Skelleftea
From Stockholm we headed north to spend a few days with Stephen. It was a gorgeous, if chilly, day in Skelleftea when we arrived and Stephen gave us a guided tour straight away to capatilise on the sun. As the subsequent days were rather snowy and temperatures around -15 it was nice to have had a look around whilst we could.
The cold I got shortly before leaving home is still hanging round and has developed into a rather unpleasant cough, so I decided that spending some time curled on the sofa, watching movies and generally trying to get better was a good use of my time. Jason's birthday was subsequently a very quiet affair although there was cake so all was not lost.
Tonight we are heading out to watch an ice hockey game, and tomorrow we are heading up beyond the Arctic circle. I think it could be cold(er)...
The cold I got shortly before leaving home is still hanging round and has developed into a rather unpleasant cough, so I decided that spending some time curled on the sofa, watching movies and generally trying to get better was a good use of my time. Jason's birthday was subsequently a very quiet affair although there was cake so all was not lost.
Tonight we are heading out to watch an ice hockey game, and tomorrow we are heading up beyond the Arctic circle. I think it could be cold(er)...
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Getting used to freezing
Our first night in Sweden was spent in a prison cell. At least it used to be a prison cell, although it has since been converted into a youth hostel. We arrived at our cell, having trekked along ice covered side walks through sleet, at 4pm. We wanted nothing more than to have a shower then curl up and go to sleep, so instead we dumped the bags and went straight back out in attempt to minimise our jet lag.
We chose to just walk around the area where we were staying, meandering along the water, crossing between islands, and finding the occasional oddity. Why has someone tied 20 miniature houses to a tree?! Despite our attempts to stay out as late as possible, we were still tucked up in bed by 6pm.
Day 2 needless to say started early. However opening hours do not take into account jet lag, so there was nothing to do until 11am. The two main activities that we did (in between eating various forms of chocolate) were going to the Noblemuseet and the Vasamuseet. We learnt about Alfred Noble and the origins of the Noble prize, and the dodgy wording that lets the economics prize be part of the Noble Prize ceremony despite it not actually being a noble prize. There had been a major emphasis on creativity when they were designing the museum, which led to some interesting movies. There was one about Cambridge University (as it has produced a large number of Noble laureates) which focused heavily on carrots, and proving you've cooked a swan by producing its head when required.
In the afternoon we headed across town to see a ship (the Vasa) which had sunk in 1633 on its maiden voyage. Due to fortuitous water conditions (such as too much pollution for creatures that normally eat wood to survive) it was in close to pristine condition when it was discovered in the 50s. The ship was quite spectacular and the work that went into raising it phenomenal.
We chose to just walk around the area where we were staying, meandering along the water, crossing between islands, and finding the occasional oddity. Why has someone tied 20 miniature houses to a tree?! Despite our attempts to stay out as late as possible, we were still tucked up in bed by 6pm.
Day 2 needless to say started early. However opening hours do not take into account jet lag, so there was nothing to do until 11am. The two main activities that we did (in between eating various forms of chocolate) were going to the Noblemuseet and the Vasamuseet. We learnt about Alfred Noble and the origins of the Noble prize, and the dodgy wording that lets the economics prize be part of the Noble Prize ceremony despite it not actually being a noble prize. There had been a major emphasis on creativity when they were designing the museum, which led to some interesting movies. There was one about Cambridge University (as it has produced a large number of Noble laureates) which focused heavily on carrots, and proving you've cooked a swan by producing its head when required.
In the afternoon we headed across town to see a ship (the Vasa) which had sunk in 1633 on its maiden voyage. Due to fortuitous water conditions (such as too much pollution for creatures that normally eat wood to survive) it was in close to pristine condition when it was discovered in the 50s. The ship was quite spectacular and the work that went into raising it phenomenal.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
The trip starts now
It was to be a protracted start to the trip. Our first flight was on the double decker A380. Although we had pre-selected upstairs seats these were changed to downstairs at check in. This ended up working well as the flight of stairs gets cordoned off at the top. So I spent a good 20 minutes going up and down stairs to stretch my legs, ignoring all the looks that suggested I was a crazy person. We had a fairly long wait in Singapore so made good use of the foot and calf massages that were on offer. The next leg was supposed to be the sleeping leg and drugged to the eyeballs we both dropped off quickly. Unfortunately we were awake 5 hours later, and that was the end of any decent sleep. Arriving in Munich at 5am we took the opportunity to at least go outside the airport, although as the temperature was literally freezing, we didn't last long before retreating to the temperature controlled airport world. From a grey, misty snow covered Munich we had a short hop to a stunningly blue and green Copenhagen. From the plane we could see the patchwork fields below some white with snow, others green, or red roofed houses. Lines of windmills paraded across the ocean. We only had time for a quick bite to eat before we headed back into the sky for the final leg towards Stockholm. So with 36 hours of travel and 5 hours of sleep under our belts the trip starts now.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Resurrecting the blog
As our next trip fast approaches it's feeling more and more similar to the 'big' trip, than to any of the intervening holidays, so I thought it was time to resurrect the blog. Welcome back! In a time not so long ago we decided we could not go on another round the world adventure until we had finished the photo albums from the first one. Well, you'll be pleased to know they were finished at the end of last year, and the contents of this blog were incredibly helpful in reminding ourselves not only what happened, but how we felt about it. The notable lack of blog posts for the last 3 months of our trip led to many "do you remember where we went next?" discussions. I must confess that the final photobook is slightly more fictional that the first two!
As the current trip will involve a rather diverse range of activities I have resolved to regularly write updates. Over the next 2 and a bit months we will be:
We are currently remarkably unprepared, and I'm not even sure what we need to do before we leave in less than two weeks. Suspend internet connection, redirect mail, inform our banks of where we are going, do a practice pack, book the first night's accommodation in Jordan and a million other little details. I have at least started to compile the clothes I'll need together. The pile on the right is the clothes that are needed just for Sweden, the pile on the left is the rest of the clothes I'll be taking. Sweden is really challenging my pack light philosophy!! Any ideas for packing light when traveling to the Arctic in winter?!
As the current trip will involve a rather diverse range of activities I have resolved to regularly write updates. Over the next 2 and a bit months we will be:
- Dogsledding in the far north of Sweden (hopefully under the aurora borealis)
- Canyoning in the middle east
- Marveling at the ancient city of Petra
- Sleeping under the stars in the dessert
- Attending the wedding of a dear friend
- Snorkeling in the Red Sea
- Hiking along the Italian coast
- Catching up with friends and family who live in that part of the world and most likely meeting aunts and cousins I didn't know existed a month ago.
We are currently remarkably unprepared, and I'm not even sure what we need to do before we leave in less than two weeks. Suspend internet connection, redirect mail, inform our banks of where we are going, do a practice pack, book the first night's accommodation in Jordan and a million other little details. I have at least started to compile the clothes I'll need together. The pile on the right is the clothes that are needed just for Sweden, the pile on the left is the rest of the clothes I'll be taking. Sweden is really challenging my pack light philosophy!! Any ideas for packing light when traveling to the Arctic in winter?!
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