A long breather.

For some time I've been staying at one of my goals for the trip; the plumvillage(.org). Days of self discovery, good discussions, exquisite vegetarian food, funky monks and toilet repair are not only loading my batteries, but greatly enhancing their capacity.

Internet access is extremely limited, so I won't be writing anything more before the third week of february, when the retreat here ends. In the mean time:

Have a great christmas, and a blissful new year!

More toilet humor

For the squires of the lunch table.

Leaving Geneva, and heading west, I make so so good time. It might be the fact that I'm a sloth, sleeping long into the day before getting on the saddle again, or that I actually never seem to remember to refill the air in the tires. Digression: I should perhaps tattoo somewhere on my body that I need to refill air. Every other day, the pressure should be checked to be 4,5 bars, or else biking will seem like a sirupy stroll. < /digression >

Well, 9 parts out of 10 of halfway to Bordeaux, something else hampers me. Waking up at the closed camping grounds, something is stirring in my tummy. I put it off as a too hasty breakfast or crummy pouring weather, but as any well anticipating reader already have deducted, it was something else entirely.

After the worst 15 km's of biking of my life, I claw my way into the first hotel I can find. Half crazed with fever, dehydrated, all body and especially joints hurting, I sit in the shower/tub for a few hours. Then I go to sleep, and wake up the next day with only the abdomen in cramping pain.

Spending a few days in a rather sorry state, I finally get back to some health. When going to McDonalds (pre-digested food and coka-cola is good for you) for some free internet, destiny reminds me that my life at the moment revolves around shit. Biking under a few trees, I hear a deafening chirping and whistling from them. This hides the sound of "Clatsh, klatsch, splut" emanating everywhere from the tarmac around me. My back tire actually slides out to the side by some slick substance on the ground, but I manage to keep my balance. As I'm in traffic, I have no alternative but to pass through: A literal rain of shit. The town of Montlucon is apparantly host to a number of migrating birds, who seem to especially like these particular trees as a resting place on their way to where ever.

What I've learned from all this?
-You should probably never travel with cheese.
(But, the cheese is sooo good here!)

And:

-Carry a bike mounted, recoil free, barrel loaded automated shotgun where ever you go.

Goodbye, Suisse! Hello, France!

My last days in Switzerland were spent melting in the seaside sauna and hammam, exploring the slightly charming old town, taking the grand tour at the UN building, celebrating Obamas election and spending time with two great hosts in the hospitality club and couch surfing. A good way to end over two months of a through-trip that was meant to last two weeks.

By the look of things, I'll never reach Marocco in the planned time interval. Well well. Learning some french is not a bad tradeoff.

Suggestions, please!

Hello there, those of you that are of norwegian origin! (And everybody else that reads this crap.) I need some advice. As I travel around, I stay with many nice people, and we have a nice exchange of cultures. Among other things, we try out each other's different foods, and I've made a few norwegian dishes. As I'm not really a cook and my imagination is truly lame, can you help me?

So far I've made norwegian style pancakes (painnkak, sjø), chicken-in-the-stove with blasted potatoes (stekt kylling m. ovnsstekte potteta, sjø), salmon cotelettes with potatoes and cucumber salad (fesk, sjø), sour cream porridge (rømmegraut, sjø) and sheep-in-cabbage (fårikål, sainnt ja?). These dishes has been devoured with various reception, mostly positive.

What can I make next? It is often a bit difficult to get the right ingredients (I truly miss brown cheese and tyttebær (sjø)), so it's gotta be slightly simple. Post your comment today! Thank you in advance.

Happy metro day!

My host at the hospitality club very kindly informed me of the fact that the first metro in Switzerland was opening while I was staying in Lausanne. The result may be seen below. =)

HELP!

I'm trapped in a wine cellar in the french swiss countryside! There is no way out! Send more hors d'euvres!

(For illustrative purposes only.)

It is with both heavy and happy heart that I leave my new friends in Champvent, near Yverdon. Heavy, because it will be some time until I see them again, and happy, because I was so extremely lucky to get to meet them.

We had an excellent time picking grapes near this castle:

Chateau Champvent

Some of the gang, having a afternoon bread-and-chocolate break

If I ever get tired of travelling, I can at any time come back as an au pair, or was it garçon pair. Seriously considered it...

Interlude

Thus is told of our slightly heroic agonist of this story, squire Dimsloth the Slow. Only the birds in the sky and oxen in the fields bore witness to the following event, as the squire was upon entering the glorius realm of Champvent:

Being a creature of nature, Dimsloth, as most other beings upon this very earth, frequently answers nature's call. Riding his trusted aluminium steed, Brocinante by name, along a trivial road, our squire found himself in just such a state as of in no long time wanting to perform this particular act of nature. As no opportunities to do so presented themselves along the road, the need made it self ever more present. At a specific point Dimsloth decided that his state of need should and would be swiftly alleviated, although the place was not of tactical value. He thus dismounted Brocinante, which he tethered to a sign post, and proceeded in his firm intention.

Sweet relief came upon our hero, as the traffic on said road suddenly increased. Wagons passing him started to make themselves known by use of their horn. Not wanting to turn around, squire Dimsloth finished his business with grim determination. Soon thereafter, turning around smiling, hoping not to lose too much valor, he addressed the passing wagons with discreet vawing of the arm. Greeting him in this feeble act was a barriage of thrown objects, some of which almost hit him. Upon closer inspection, Dimsloth found it to be wrapped crystalline matter, sweet tasting, easily digested, mainly carbohydratic in nature; in other words, candy.

"What an unlikely response to witnessing a call of nature!" our hero proclaimed to himself, as the bombardment continued. The answer to this unuttered riddle presented it self soon enough: It was a procession of wedding guests moving from one location to the other, and in this particular part of the realm the custom is to shower innocent bystanders with said objects while travelling.

Our hero, upon this realization, laughed out loud and ventured forth on collecting this freely given, or rather thrown, booty, before setting out on further adventures. Thus ends this incident.

Not moving very fast...

In the hopes of getting a grape picking job, I've been hanging around Yverdon and Lausanne, just enjoying life and the nice people I meet (everybody should be members of the hospitalityclub, really!). It suddenly seemed like a good idea to learn french, so I made a few preparations. I've also bought a cheap ultraportable linux laptop.

The purpose of this trip is constant, but the means change constantly. This is an educational journey, but it seems to be hard to "just" travel; motivations fly here and there. And when I'm about to leave one place for the next, a feeling of slight dread hits me: The simple fear of the unknown. Wonderful! This is absolutely not a 8-to-16 job. But it would be nice if it paid better...

Wine festival from behind!

After Beatenberg I went through Bern, a very nice town, on to Neuchatel. My plans were just to pass through, but hey and behold, in a few days there would be the annual grape picking festival there! Things got even better as I got to stay in a student flat through the hospitaliyclub.org. I made good friends with wonderful people who showed me how you really are supposed to do a fondue: Over a crackling bonfire in the forest overlooking the medieval town, with an assortment of wine and laughter. The festival itself wasn't all bad either (the people in the picture are offering free wine from the local produce). =)

Vipassana and coffee. Technicolour and toilets.

Coming over a few passes, and through the open air museum at Ballenberg, I go through Interlaken. A hole of a city: Way way to touristified. Looks like everything is covered in pastell plastics, people included. But the mountain view is nice enough.

Beatenberg, on the other hand, is much nicer. A nice buddhistic retreat center 600 meters over Interlaken, with a few residential bodhisattvas. Being a youth hostel from the 70's, the dorms had some really vivid colors indeed. As I spent a weekend there in a retreat, I was last to write up on the chores list, and I ended up washing toilets. But very mindfully, of course.

Unscientific interlude

Switzerland is a nice place to bike. You see lots of nice stuff like valleys and tractors. But the country has problems of a cosmic order: Some physical laws don't apply. Three postulations:


--There are more roads going uphill than ones going downhill. This I prove on a daily basis. It seems the whole of Switzerland tips sligthly when I bleedsweatingly tread uphill. I simply never get the satisfaction pummeling downhill that would counter the hours upon hours of grinding hard work pushing 30 or so kilo's up to Switzerlands cow infested road summits. By the way, my personal best going downhill is 64.1 km/h. Still working on that. Going up? Hm... 0 km/h for 45 mins?

--The shortest distance between two points is not in a straight line. It is somewhat frustrating coming to this conclusion when the map obviously tells otherwise. They say the coast of Norway actually is infinitely long when you use a small enough unit of measuring. (Imagine measuring the circumference of all grains of sand which the water encompass on a beach.) I am getting used to pushing my bike up dirt walking trails, and the wheels sometimes feel infinitesimally small.

--Thermophysics don't work. My sleeping bag is too cold.

Amden. (Insert sentimental song here)

There is a danger of superlative overuse on this blog, so I'll try to contain myself.

The center (or me) had some trouble in the start with there suddenly being someone present who couldn't follow the ordinary guest routine. As soon as we got to know each other, however, things worked out for the best.

In between the daily activities there, which among other things is simply looking out the window at the stunning scenery, I got some work done, and managed to squeeze in fixing my bike as well. (The thing seems to always have some small kink to work out.) I got known as the wire massager, and I learned how (not?) to make a plaster roof. What may the future bring?

A nice puncture

As I was cycling to Liechtenstein, boom went the tire. But out of a house, an old man and an old women popped out. "Oh, let us help you!" the woman almost shouted, and ran into the house and called bicycle shops. "Hey, it'll be ok..." I tried to say, but she insisted. All the shops were closed for the lunch siesta they have in Switzerland, so: "You are coming in here and having lunch, now!" "But..." "No buts!"

So I had to go in the house, was not allowed to take my shoes off, and ate an extraordinary good rabbit meat ball and jummy side dishes. Then we took the car and drove around to find a bike shop. "And stop saying "thank you" all the time!" was all I heard, since I obviously wasn't able to say anything else.

We fixed the bike, spoke about everything between heaven and earth, and then I biked off. Guess who'll get postcards for every country I come to! =)

Contrasts

From working with clay and quantity loads, I crossed a few geographical borders to work in a fine herb garden with the most exquisite of shrubberies. Well, not really, the shrubberies were somewhat in charmful disarray, and not better when I finished. But there were berries, cakes, wonderful vegetarian cuisine and Schwützer-Dütsch aplenty. Really lots of the latter. =)

I've spent less than a week at Haus Tao, near Bodensee, in Switzerland, and I already feel like staying here indefinitely. The contrast from a 4500 participant summer festival course to an intimate retreat of 5 people (lucky as I timed it) is astounding, and has probably sligthly leveraged my opinion. And I slept in a bed with feather cushions, instead of sleeping in a wet tent on my thin yoga mat. An important thing to note though, is that the people here are just as nice as the people in EC Immenstadt. (The latter would probably come after me with baseball bats, torches and dull spoons (yes, truly horrid) if I didn't write this.) If I continue travelling in this manner, I'll probably never be able to stop, as I have to visit all the places again.

And I've learned to say good bye the Schwützer-Dütsch way...

The lenient life in the country side

Since the end of the course, I've been hanging around the centre, helping out with whatever I can (I've managed to stay away from the dishwashing so far), meditated a lot and gotten organized again. Something of a route is forming, but there's still a lot of researching to do. I wish there was a buddhist centre directory in map form... So I make one myself. Google maps is a godsend. If I believed in one. =)

Immenstadt

Festival it is (12-24 aug)! 2 weeks of good friends, good food, good athmosphere and above all, meditation. 4500 people in a big tent, with a wild danish Lama, with a fantastic view over the Alpensee, is all you need for bliss. Need I say more? Let the pictures do the talking. Oh. I didn't take that many. Guess I was occupied with other things... Making juice, e.g.

A few measly km's...

Didn't do much more in Munich, besides going to the Deutsches Museum: What a place! There really is something for everyone there. A technical museum with the budget of the MIR space station. My musical friends would love the piano section of the place (among other things, the development of the hammer hitting the strings in pianos), my steam power interested friend would have a whole building to enjoy, etc etc. People aren't lying when they say they can spend several days at that place...

So. The road awaited. Getting out of Munich wasn't that bad, actually. Think I only biked 5 km wrong... One thing I quickly discovered, was that you can't trust the German bike-signs. They will certainly lead you astray. When I wanted to go to Böbing, I took the mountainbike-route. Not very effective, as to which the picture below testifies.

First night I stayed at a camping ground, which was expensive and overcrowded. After a good nights rest I went on, and the next night I spent at a tourist stable. Quite nice, actually, I had 4 horses as *neigh*bours. (sorry to the pun sensitive people out there). An expensive breakfast in the morning, and I was off again.

It was really very nice to ride along the foothills to the alps. When I got tired in the up hills, I simply took a rest and enjoyed the view. Don't think I ever stopped in the downhills... =)

See the pictures in my picasa album.

After 2 nights and 3 days of cozy cycling, I finally found the first signposts to Immenstadt, and suddenly I was there. Rejoice!

The packing... The packing...

I started off on wednesday 30th with easy stuff to pack. A visit to Namsos in the weekend filled up my much needed quota of family prime time, before I continued packing on Monday. Didn't finish until 1 am wednesday. Slept 3 hours, took the plane in the morning, and Here I Am, in Germany! Yehaa! After some orientation in newly bought maps and guidebooks (not plural, though), I started off. At the highway. Heading for Munich. I just stared at the road, trying to find an opening, as a cab stops behind me, and the driver tells me to get in. He gives me a free ride half the way! Here I've brougth a bike 1/8 of the distance across the world, and I get a free ride! He probably pitied me. Or my parents: Guess it would be boring to hear that I'd been killed in traffic the first day, the first hour even. Well, I got off at some nice side way to the interstate, and happily trodded away (If that is a word). Passed through Englisher Park:

My other pictures show nekkid people taking a bath. Just so you know. =)

Well, after getting a rather nice dorm room and eating some undescribable though yummy Turkish dish, here I am at some internet cafe. Don't expect this kind of updating regime in the future... =)

Write you later!

Infrequent indeed.

But it's picking up!

February:
Two weeks in California. My friend Morimekta and me rented a new Ford Mustang and drove highway 1 from San Francisco, to LA, Palm Springs, Joshua Tree Park (did some climbing) and bac k again, stopping by six flags amusement park and what not. Shoddy motels with broken door panes and brown, synthetic leather toilet seats, shops that make you go dizzy with their size and article range, fat people, humongous portions of food, etc. We actually ended up eating a lot of sushi, as anything else was to much for us.

Well, came back, and it was as if I'd never been away, I plumbed right back into work and it's mentality. I guess I made up my mind right about then that I needed to do something else.

March:
Easter: Went with a friend to the south east of Sweden for climbing. It was great, but a tad bit cold. Really want to do more climbing.

April:
Quit my job. Still working, as there's a 3 month period to complete before leaving.

Have finally decided that I'm going on a bicycle vacation. I'll be biking around Europe visiting places of esoteric knowledge and good climbing. Well, haven't planned much really, I'll make plans as I go.

May:
Got together with a few second cousins and planned christmas. It's set in Gambia, as one of them will go to teach english there. My bicycle vacation will hence go there. And I've promised my mother not to do any silly things, so I'll see if I'll ditch the bike before that time, and go by train and car.


(Soergjoeslingan. We stayed in the nearest red hut.)

Went with my mother, an aunt and a cousin to Soer-Gjoeslingan, an abandoned weather-torn fishermans village off the coast, north of Trondheim. Did volunteer work on the museum buildings there, and caught my first crab while free diving. Cooked it and ate it. A really great weekend.


(This I caught later, but it tasted just as good.)