I have been travelling.

Publicerad 2013-05-05 22:35:01 i Allmänt,

I have been jetlagged on a top-bunk in Lima, seen A LOT of incaruins, rumbling through the streets of Cusco after too many mojitos and gotten foodpoisoning on a night bus where you only were allowed to pee in the toilet. I have been visiting the floating islands on lake Titicaca, climbing a hill in Copacabana and seen Chicolitas wrestling before we went off the beaten track and in to the djungle. I have been freaking out of all bugs (flying, crawling, buzzing, glowing) in a djungle, mountainbiking down the worlds most dangerous road and thinking I would die on another busride in Bolivia.
 
I have been to the huge salt flats of Salar de Uyuni, bathing in hot springs, taking pictures and acting dead in front of a train on a train cemetery. I have been sandboarding in the desert of Chile, floating in a very salt lake (where I also dipped my head - do not try that at home) and doing beer tasting in Salta, Argentina.
 
I have seen the wonders of the Iguazu falls, been so scared of the information that I had a bug inside my leg (still scares me) and seen the gravestone of Evita Peron. I have jumped out of an airplane with no fear, taken a tangolesson and experienced a real party hostel. I have gotten my phone stolen and started to travel by myself.

I have been pubcrawling in Santiago, touring in Valparaiso and melted one of my fingernails when I tried to cook for the first time in months.

I have been learning to surf in Costa Rica, driving a teeny tiny car up a mountain to go visit a cloudforrest and fearing for my life on New years eve when it was fireworks everywhere - but in the sky. I have discovered, what I call, the White Snickers (more known as the almond Snickers), learnt new drinking games and gotten my legs waxed for the first (and probably last) time ever. I have been eagerly watched while I sat on a bus, working in a hostel reception and climbing volcanos - and slid one of them down on a tablet. I have seen lava and been sleeping under the stars.'
 
I have been riding on the beach of a volcanoisland, taking kite surfing theory lesson and riding a mototaxi with four grown up people. I have been fighting with hostelowners, making friends with cabdrivers and thinking good of everyone I met. I have been visiting my first mayanruin, diving on 30m depth and swimming in the Carribbean. I have seen heavy and longlasting prosessions during Easter week in Antigua, walking, swimming, climbing in a cave with only a candle in my hand and seen Tikal - kickass mayanruins.
 
I have been walking across countries borders by foot with the bag on my head, drinking tequila in all different kinds of ways and jamming during the late night hours. I have been dancing, dancing, dancing in clubs, restaurants, streets, subway-diners and on buses. I have been visiting museums, studying spanish and been to wrestling in Mexicos biggest arena.

I have eaten guinea pig, alligator balls, cactus and more.

I have been listening to music on International Festival Louisiana, baking cakes and drinking beer - of a beer keg and Guinness with a shot of Baileys dropped in it. I have been walking on Hollywood Boulevard, Venice Beach and the streets of New Orleans.

And now I am home.
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To spend time in New Orleans y'all.

Publicerad 2013-05-02 10:46:21 i Allmänt,

13 dollars gave me a bottle of water, one banana and an egg, cheese and sausage biscuit at New Orleans International Airport. And not even close to being as tasty as the different, much cheaper, meals I have had these last few days. Including the alligator balls. For some reason airports tends to jack the prices up high and still have a quality below average.

Still feeling slightly drunk I got to the airport before the sun came up and are now shifting into my LA outfit. Yes, the end of my travels is here, but I still got 24h to rock in Los Angeles. After rocking for 144 hours in New Orleans.

We arrived late on a Tuesday evening, almost two hours delayed, and danced on the street/pavement in anticipation for the ride. Little did I know what I was in for.. When we arrived to the house it was packed. Even the empty room just waiting for Keelys return had a good portion of people and bicycles. After my first Louisiana meal (that is if I don’t count the Popeyes on the airport in Texas) of red beans and rice it was important to keep up with the beer. And beer it was.

A random walk in the night after a carbomb (shot of baileys dropped in a glass of Guiness) showed me parts of the city, and even though it was more or less dead I already then fell in love with it. Then when I fell asleep on the airmatress I felt even better.

Maybe I would have seen more of the city centre if I would have been a tourist stayin’ at a hostel. But who care about the city centre and the French quarter with it’s jacked up prices and bad food when the best pancakes, donuts, breakfast, bacon, grits, chicken, jambolaya, po-boys and rubens are elsewhere? And during my first breakfast in New Orleans at Betsys pancake house, enjoying the bacon until it’s very last piece, I couldn’t help feeling excited, and worried, when the Tornado warning siren went off.

Since I was with real New Orleaners and they didn’t seem to worry, I couldn’t show my true concern. And the tornado actually only gave me a little bit of wet shoes, nothing I haven’t been able to handle before. After that first day I got to see some of New Orleans finer and wetter days during these times of the year. Since the city is below sea level, a wet time is wet indeed and that is also the reason for them having the tombs in the cemeteries above ground.

The weekend I was there we actually didn’t spend in New Orleans but in Margos’ parents house in Lafayette. It was International Festival Louisiana 2013 and, as with all festivals, that meant live music, festival food and beer. And being in America and all, of course we had to do some jellyshots. I was more or less The Tourist during this weekend. Especially when it all came down to parties after the festival and I finally got to a party with a beer keg. Happy, happy tourist swede.

My last day in New Orleans was maybe one of the best days. Keely, this wonderful host of mine, showed me lakeside of the city where also the university was – making the urge to study even stronger, to continue the day with the citys’ best coffee shop, USA second biggest park, ferry and supper. With beer. With wine. With me learning to shotgun a beer.

Ignorant as only a tourist can be I went to New Orleans for a good amount of fun and beer, little did I know that I would, once again, get my heart stolen. I know, it's starting to be a little bit of cliche. But New Orleans didn't only steal my heart, it also took my taste buds.

 



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Ruins that doesn't ruin your trip.

Publicerad 2013-04-26 03:53:54 i Allmänt,

 
Mexico city brought out the best in us. Starting the day with a work-out at the closest gym, following up with breakfast and headlines from Democracy Now before we hit the town and walked around visiting different museums. The last day in Mexico city we went up at the crack of dawn (kind of) for visiting the Aztec ruins just outside of the city. Since I started out my travel visiting Inca after Inca ruins in South America and continuing with ruins but from Maya in Honduras and Guatemala, I felt it would be a perfect way to finish of my Latin America trip - with Teotihuacan.
 
When I woke Keely up on the bus she muttered about "This was not the right stop!" even though the signs outside begged to differ. I got her off the bus in time and after paying the entrance fee of 57 pesos we entered the archeological site of Teotihuacan.

It was huge.
 

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We are men in tights, we roam around the arena looking for fights.

Publicerad 2013-04-22 04:35:37 i Allmänt,

On a Sunday night in La Paz, Bolivia you have various options of what to do. Like any night you can go to the cinema, go out and have a nice dinner, go to a bar for a few beers or you can do like me and my companions did - go on Chicolita wrestling.
 
 
For 75 bolivianos you get the transport both ways, entrance, popcorn and something to drink. We got there, sat on the second row and what started out as fun got pretty boring after two hours. It was like repeating the same story over and over again, no matter if it were guys or girls. There was the good ones and the bad ones. The bad ones always started out strong, then it turned around and the judge helped out the bad guys turning the game around once more, leading it up to the grand finale where always the good one came out winning. Every game was about ten minutes and all were the same. For two - three hours. It was fun entertainment and definetly something different to do on a sunday night, but I was pretty sure I would not go to another wrestling competition again.
 
 
Then, five months later, I arrive in Mexico City where I and Keely are staying with a host through couchsurfing named Emmanuel. One of our first nights here he drops ideas about what we can do and he tells us about different museums, cinema and OH we have to go to the Luchas Libres! A little bit sceptic, with the Bolivian wrestling pretty fresh in my mind, I agreed and he got tickets for the three of us.
 
It was Friday night, the subway was crowded and so were the streets outside the arena. Well maybe this wasn't going to be like the Chicolita wrestling that took place in a barn in the outskirts of La Paz. After all, the arena where the games were held is the biggest in Mexico and in the beating heart of the city.
 

We went in and took our seats. Drinks wasn't included here, and tickets a little bit more expensive, but the service excellent opening a tab for us and bringing beer after beer, we didn't even have to get up from our seats. Then the competition began - and it wasn't the same at all. With enthusiastic spectators and experienced wrestlers the whole experience was a lot different. I couldn't stop myself from joining in in the shouting and screaming, something I dont know if I blame the surroundings or the beer on. Anyhow, we had a great time. And you know what? Even the bad guys won every now and then.

I left the arena, a little tipsy, with a whole new approach on wrestling. I do prefer a proper boxing (or of course kickboxing) match but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy an evening with men in thights jumping around pretending to fight. 

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How to get in to Mexico

Publicerad 2013-04-14 18:38:07 i Allmänt,

After an hour of waiting outside the hotel for a taxi in the middle of the night in Flores it finally arrived. It took us to the other side of the city were we got on a minibus, heading for the border. Little did we know when the driver dropped us off on a dead highway in the middle of nowhere, telling us to stand on the other side and wait for another bus. I will always have the picture of Keely sitting on her old fashion (and so cool) suitcase on the side of the highway in my mind. What could we do but wait?

After about 15 min waiting (definitely not too bad) a new minibus arrived and picked us up to take us to El Ceibo, the city right before the border. It was, as always, an interesting ride with the driver driving with his five year old son on his lap and a phone that never stopped ringing, sometimes he answered, sometimes he didn’t. But then, 10 quetzales later, we arrived by the border, all we needed to do was put the bags on our heads and start walking. All of sudden we were in Mexico.

Lately, by the people I’ve met on my travel, I have been known as the girl who basically can end up anywhere. The girl who travels with a plan – but that simply doesn’t follow it. Ever. But this border crossing was special. Once we were over on the Mexican side Keely and I turned to each other: “Sooo where should we go?” Since lack of knowledge of cities in Mexico we both were most familiar with one, San Cristobal de las Casas.

After walking about 500m – 1 km from the border crossing we found a bus that would take us to Tenosique. There we had to grab a cab for the station of the shuttles to Palenque. A very luxurious minibus later we were running after a man with Keelys suitcase on the head, taking us to the station of buses to San Cristobal. Luckily unknown we relaxed and thought that we would actually be in San Cristobal at a decent hour. Little did we know that we had to change once more in Ocosingo, and that meant to change to the worst vehicle so far on my travel. But two uncomfortable hours later we would arrive in San Cristobal, only 16 hours after the first taxiride in Flores.

We did San Cristobal very well without really doing anything. Most nights were spent with tacos in one hand and a tequila in the other, just like I always thought Mexico would be like! We met some really cool people and hung out – practicing Spanish every day. We didn’t know what to expect when we went to San Cristobal, but it was better than both of our expectations. When we went on the night bus to Mexico City we just weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do.

But here we are now in Cuidad de Mexico, also known as El Jefe, a beautiful and huge city where we yet have a lot left to discover!

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Just look at the world around you, right here on the ocean floor. Such wonderful things surround you, what more are you looking for?

Publicerad 2013-03-28 00:31:11 i Allmänt,

Have you ever dreamed about a place where everyone greats you with smiles and shining eyes? A place were days can turn into weeks and no matter how long you are staying, the people there still make you feel like one in the gang? A place where everyone is welcoming, everyone is open and everyone is easy-going? I am here to tell you that that place do exist. It is called Utila Dive Center.
 
 
The boatride that took us out from Honduras mainland to Utila was on the other hand not too inviting. When the crew started walking around handning out puke-bags I understood that this would be a rough ride. Not handling seasickness too good in my past I was worried. What had I gotten myself into?
 
 
Arriving on the island, one long hour later, I followed a girl with a bright orange shirt with UDC printed on it. She took me and five more others to Mango Inn where we could spend the first night in Utila for free, while deciding what to do on the island. I, together with two swedish girls Emma & Julia and one dutch guy named Jaap (I know! How cool name is that?!), was already sure about our reasons for the visit. And after the first beer while watching the sunset on the dock we were set to start our theory lessons the next day.
 
I spent most of my time in Utila at two places, Utila Dive Center and Treetanic.
 
 
Declan (our instructor) and Jerry (instructor-in-training) took care of us when we were at UDC. Started out being four students and then three (Emma decided she would rather be a bikini-babe sunbathing on the boats roof), to be five students in the end (two new americans joined the group on the second day). They taught us all we needed to know about diving in theory and practised skills with us underwater, all the time with a smile on their faces and a joke never far away. They made it all so easy. Dec and Jerry took us from the first day - when we knew absolutely nothing, til day four - when we all became certified divers. I, Julia and Jaap was hooked. We had to continue. Already the next day we started our Advanced course. Still with Dec and Jerry.
 
 
While the days were all spent at UDC or at sea, the nights were spent at Treetanic. A treehouse with bar. An awesome place. I went there already on my first night with Karen and Menna (the brittish girls I told you about in the previous post) and we all fell in love with the bar and the atmosphere. It also turned out to be one of the mandatory places after the sunset beer at UDC. The nights that didn't end with a beer at Tree were few, one out of nine.
 
 
The last day at Utila was sad. We had four fun dives, which I could only do two of because of a cold. Making me even more bitter. After the last beer at the dock on the dive centre we went to Tree where we shared stories about what had been the best and the worst experience at Utila. It was a great night - making leaving Utila even harder.
 
 
The boatride the morning after was completely different from the boatride to the island. I no longer questioned myself why I went there, instead I was wondering: Why didn't I stay?
 
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Darling it's better, down where it's wetter.

Publicerad 2013-03-18 16:20:00 i Allmänt,

It isn't everyday you wake up, staring at a bus roof while the bus is literally jumping down the street and up a mountain in Honduras. And during those first few seconds of blurriness, you wipe your eyes yawning and thinking: How did I end up here?
 
 
"It's going to be a bumpy ride" the pilot politely informed us, even before we had left the ground. Definetly a bad sign. On the half-full airplane heading for Guatemala City I prepared myself for an awful, unbearable ride. How was I going to survive it? There was only one way and one solution - sleeping.
 
At the airport in Guatemala I was waved through customs without having to scan my 19.4 kg bag and out in the arrival "hall" (which basically was out on the street) I found my guy from Los Volcanes. Five minutes in the car and we drove through some gates with an armed guard and just a bit further down the road was the hostel. I went out to buy water and heard a buzzing over my head. Every building was surrounded by high, thick concrete walls with barbed wire buzzing at the top. It was electrified. What could be the reason for all these safety actions? I got my water and hurried back to the hostel.
 

 
 
The day after I got a shuttle from the airport taking me and a new found friend all the way to a hostels door in Antigua. We shared a private room for the night and spent the day walking around the city, shopping at the market and drinking coffee in the Parque Central. In the evening we made omelette (though since I was in charge of it, it turned out more like scrambled eggs) and planned our travels. The following day she left for Rio Dulce while I hiked up one of the nearby volcanoes, Pacaya.
 
 
Didn't get very impressed. The hike was really easy compared to the ones in Nicaragfua and the lava (that you were supposed to be able to poke with a stick) hadn't been there for three years. But we had a good group and a nice time barbecuing marshmallows. And somehow I ended up being the guides' translator.
 
I liked Antigua, already after the first day. Maybe not as a backpacker but I could see myself living there. And the feeling just got stronger when I found my first real kickboxing club in five months.
 
 
I couldn't leave before I had trained with them, leading me to spend one day extra in Antigua. And the day before my bus to Honduras I had, once again, changed my travel route.
 
4 am is an awful time to catch a bus. Especially when it is a minibus with no support for your head. Leaving sleeping, not impossible, but seriously uncomfortable. I shared the bus with one american, one canadian, two brittish and seven japanese. After careful consideration I decided to hook up with the brittish girls and we spent the day together at Copan. We did the most important stuff, visited the ruins and tried all three of the local beer brands.
 
 
The one thing Antigua was lacking was street food, a thing Copan turned out to have lots of. I challenged my taste buds with some tacos leaving my lips stinging, nose running and mouth burning. But not to worry people! Nothing as bad that a fresh smoothie couldn't set straight.
 
Around nine o'clock the small town was getting ready for the evening. People, all dressed up, was standing on the main square waiting for the event of evening to begin. There were little girls in princess dresses everywhere. We,on the other hand, were getting ready for bed.
 
 
The alarm went of at 5 am, another awful time for catching a bus. (But still better than the hour when the roosters started challenging each others in who could cuckoo the loudest..) We packed our things and headed for the bus to take us to La Ceiba.
 
So here we are, on an insanely bumpy busride, sliding on the seats from side to side. Eating a "bread" (which was supersweet with cinnamon and raisins, not something I would ever call bread after the hours I've spent baking, let's just call it a cake. In a bread form and consistency) imagining myself it will absorb all the fluids in my stomache and make me not needing to pee. 
 
 
Still yawning after my nap I am now very aware of where I am and where I am going. Utila. It is time to discover a new world. The world under the sea.
 
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I lost the Gringo trail and ended up in Charter hell.

Publicerad 2013-03-12 06:08:00 i Allmänt,

 
I never told you about Isla de Ometepe. How we rented bicycles to go really off-road, went horse-backriding on the beach (yes you read right! I actually did it again! Noone could ever have seen that coming - especially not me nor Ida) and went swimming in a swimming pool without bottom. We had a great time.
 
 
But, it is time for me to write about something else than Nicaragua. No matter how much I care for the country I must accept the fact that I'm not there anymore.
 
After a busride to San Jose, Costa Rica, where I got offered a job to dig in Jordaan, I and Mariella jumped on an airplane to Dominican Republic! She needed a break from her studies and work and asked if I maybe wanted to join on a vacation. Me, doing a seven months long vacation, says "of course! I could need a little weekend away!" And off we went.
The first impression was not at all inviting. This country is definetly not a backpackers cup of tea. I went from the Gringo trail straight into Charter hell. We were supposed to spend our first night in Samana, but in a country with big love to their taxi's, that would cost us 200 US$. After much consideration we decided to skip the whales for this time and just head to Cabarete where we anyway were supposed to spend the rest of our stay. If we were lucky maybe we could just stay one night more at the hostel we already had booked.
 
We weren't. Or I guess - it's all just a question of how you look at it. After the taxiride with a former chef of a Playboy House somewhere along road (highway?) 23 in the States, we got to Cabarete Beach Hostel. Here we had booked 5 nights in a dorm. The only teeny tiny problem was that they no longer had dorms. Only privates, and not for the same price we had been promised. On top of this the lady who was incharge really rude. Oh who am I kidding? She was a bitch. It all ended with our driver/playboy-chef lashed out on the hostel lady. You go explayboy-chef!
 
It ended with us staying at a hotel for the first night, since Cabarete is a charter city there simply aren't that many hostels. We spent the night googleing and searching hostels to find a solution. According to CBB they were working together with an other place called Ali's Camp or Cabarete Surf Camp or something like that and they should have our reservation. The following day we went over there, armed to our teeth with arguments to get a discount, only to meet a (at first) friendly lady telling us they didn't have dorms either, only private rooms. When we didn't take the offer of a private room twice the price we were promised she soon turned very aggressive and kicked us out. But at least we got our deposit back.
 
 
Not completely desperate but starting to fear we would have to spend a full week at a hotel, we walked on a road for about one kilometre when we saw it. Like a castle at the end of the road there was a hostel. First there was noone but, after a little bit of waiting, a small girl greeted us saying of course they had beds for us! And they also had a pool, wi-fi, lockers and a big kitchen. It was a lot more than we could ask for. And there we could stay for the rest of our time in Dominican Republic, Laguna Park Hostel.
 
Even with accomodation organized nothing really went as planned for the week. We went to Cabarete for sun, swim and kitesurfing. We had clouds most of the days and only got as far as a theory lesson - then the wind disappeared. And it never came back. So I must apologize for all my "OH I am gonna see whales! OH I will try kitesurfing!" It was all dreams that never came true.
 
 
With all that said, we did have an awesome time in Cabarete! We enjoyed both sea and pool, the food was delicious, the white snickers the best, our roomies in the hostel were sweet, found great white wine, not to mention the rum&coke, friendly mototaxi drivers that even drove us for free and superfriendly family when we rented a car. Even though I cant really recommend anyone to rent a car in Dominican Rep. It was simply too much excitement for ones everyday life.
 
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How one month turns into two.

Publicerad 2013-03-04 03:32:30 i Allmänt,

When my travelpartner Ida had made up her mind about going back home and I realized that meant I would either go with her back to Sweden/Norway or I could continue the trip on my own. The choice was simple. I wasn’t ready to go, no estoy lista.

But the unexpected turn made me think of what I wanted to do, now when I was on my own. After two months of Ooooh and Aaaah-experiences I could feel I was getting tired. Not of travelling in itself but of all impressions everywhere. I wanted to continue but I needed a place where I could stay for a longer period of time. So my search began.

After travelling with Peter and Sarah, that had been volunteering their way down through centralamerica, I started with asking them. Where had they been? What country would be best? Which cities are good? Is it easy? Do you need to speak Spanish?


I got a lot of tips, and the one that really got stuck on my mind was the city Leon in Nicaragua. It was supposed to be a good city with the sea not too far away, some happenings and a cinema. Actually, it was the cinema that sold it to me. I wanted to volunteer in Leon, a city where I also could go see a movie.

How would I find a place? Thankfully nowadays, the search is not that hard. I went on Google and typed “Free volunteering Leon Nicaragua” and that's where I found it. Sonati, a non-profit organization where I needed to stay at least one month. Perfect. After an email and a skype interview it was decided. The 13th of January I would start in their reception. And those five weeks I was supposed to stay, somehow turned into seven.

During my first week I mostly hung-out by myself searching for a kickboxing or boxingclub. During my first beer out on the town I tried real chili which made me cry and my first Nica Libre – which made me never look on rum and coke the same way again. The night before I trained my first volunteer, Keely, Nica Libre took the best of me. It still had me in it’s grip during the training until the afternoon. I guess I made a pretty interesting first impression on the poor girl.

Three weeks later we’ve had some of the old volunteers going and new ones coming, making a new part of the Sonati family. I had started Spanish classes which didn’t only learn me more Spanish but also where I could find a boxing club. The cleaning lady Flor started a few salsa lessons with Selena in the speakers after lunch time. Making everyone ready for one or two salsa nights. It was all starting to fall into place.

Time really flies when you are having fun and soon I had to start preparing for a goodbye-dinner and moving on. The last weekend in Leon wasn’t even spent in Leon, but in San Juan del Sur and Playa Hermosa where we camped for a surf/music-festival. Together with my favorite people from Sonati we spent two nights in tents on the beach, with potato cooking by the open fire and emptying bottle after bottle of rum. Actually, a festival on the other side of the world isn't that much different from the ones I've been to in Sweden, just a lot warmer.

It was with a clouded mind and a heavy heart I left Sonati and Leon. I have hiked up volcanoes, shaked ass at clubs with beer for $1, floated through the mangroves, bargained at the open markets, been to poetry nights, went boxing with only locals, layed on the roof watching the full moon and stars and I have met some truly awesome people. If I was to do it all again, I wouldn't do anything different - even though I never got to visit that cinema.


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Not a meteor in Russia, but a crater in Nicaragua.

Publicerad 2013-02-16 14:56:45 i Allmänt,

Ladies and gentlemen
I would like to introduce you all to the wonders of Telica.

 
Telica is a volcano on more than 1000 metres above the sea level. It has one huge crater that measures up to 700m with a 120m depth. And it is one of the few places in Central America where you can see real lava.

Wow.

As soon as I entered Sonati and found out about this amazing opportunity I knew it was something that I had to do. But with work five days a week it was going to take me four weeks before the tour was arranged on a day when I wasn’t working. And even though the latest couple of days I spent most of my time in bed, feeling crap, I didn’t care. This was it. Here is my chance. A 2 day Telica trek was arranged and a work-change was possible. God damn it, I was going.

Since I got on board a little bit late I didn’t bother about booking a horse and instead decided to pack as lightly as possible. But I tell you all, it is hard to make 6litres of water weigh less. Lucky me, who am surrounded by nice people, John (one of our guides) had space for 4 of my 6 litres in one of the bags that was on a horse. Sweet.

Keely (my receptionist colleague and friend) said the hike up was hard, so I set my mind for almost impossible. I was expecting a new Momotombo. Instead, I got pleasantly surprised when we arrived at the top with almost no sweat loss. Haha, of course there was sweat. It felt like I was walking around in a sweat-pool, constantly trying to dry my face without success. With the only result that my face just got more and more dirty.

The hike was slightly less than five hours to the top and even here, an amazing view. You could see all the way till my precious love-hate Momotombo. And you know, there is a reason for all the volcanos lined up parallel with the ocean line. If you want to know it, I can hook you up with John. He is our volcanoexpert, and exists on facebook.

 

After a little siesta at the evening’s campsite we took a stroll to watch the sunset. Even if there is a limited number of sunsets that you do enjoy watching, (I believe if you see too many it is going to be blahablaha in the end), any sunset seen from a volcano is a big part of them.

We had a dinner by the campfire and some stories from the English couple before this tours Grand Attraction. We armed us with flashlights and took the last few steps to the crater where we laid on our stomachs peeping over the edge. And I ensure you all folks, the pictures isn’t close to making the sight justice.

 

 

Wow.

There are some things in life you just don’t expect to ever get the chance of seeing. Glowing lava is definitely one of them. It. Was. Amazing.

Afterwards we went back to the campfire, put some marshmallows on sticks, pored up some rum&coke and just absorbed the whole experience.
I hiked up a new volcano.
I got to see some beautiful views.
I saw lava, real lava.
I slept under the stars in only a sleeping bag in, what once was active, crater.

 

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Es posible que hablar en ingles, por favor?

Publicerad 2013-02-08 23:32:02 i Allmänt,

Since I hardly spend anytime any longer with people who understand my mothertounge, I have gotten a lot of questions, why dont i write the blog in english? Since I still have about 500 cards to hand out and for the moment only know about five norweigans and one swede.

So lets give it a try. I am currently working on turning my collegues into swedish-understanders but everytime I just say Läget? They only give me a strange look and then turn away. Which they aswell sometimes do when I use the term "What up dog?". I am, apparently, a little bit nerdy and oldschool.
 
Even here people get surprised how I have survived three years living away from home with no knowledge about cooking. Yesterday I got some fine advise on how too cook pasta, spagetti. How to make it not stick to eachother and how to see when it is ready. Apparently there are other ways than throwing it into a wall. Which I usally miss anyway. And that the part in the middle of the garlic - isn´t garlic. The middle part that has a somewhat wierd shape is not meant for eating. But I do impress people with my porridge, I guess I should thank Magdalena for that!
 
Other languagebarriers I came across is the ones about expressions. Like a swedish saying is not translateable directly into english and doesn't maintain it's true meaning. A spider in a web is just a spider in a web - not a person that knows it all and is pulling all the threads. Neither is slipping on a banana shell getting somewhere accidently or easy. It's just a banan shell and then you recieve a roar of laughter. Well, I guess it is my own fault - I did learn this lesson already a year ago in Liverpool.
 
But I guess what I should focus is on my trip. And what I am doing.
 
I am a bored receptionist with little things that needs to be done. Which, on the other hand, gives me plenty of time to study spanish and work on that. Or work on my card tricks. Or read the news. I am actually getting pretty good with the cards.
 
After work I try to work-out, either spinning with music like Cotton Eye Joe, a bad Rihanna mix (of a already pretty bad Rihanna song) and different mixed salsa songs. If I get the time I go to "my" boxingclub where I get to hit the sack, hit the trainer and jump on a huge wheel. All this during the wierdest looks from the people around me. Yes, I am the only foreigner and, most of times, the only girl. Maybe it doesn't help that I have trouble understanding what they are saying aswell. Just smile and nod. Smile and nod.

The days I dont work-out is usally because we have some Trivia night, Salsa night or Live music in another place. Nevertheless, the beer is always cheap, the rum always taste good. And "degoma" has become a word everyone here is more or less familiar with.
Hungover.
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Det var en gang jag akte ner for en vulkan pa pulka.

Publicerad 2013-01-28 14:47:37 i Allmänt,

Det galler att lagga ribban hogt.

Nar jag besteg min forsta vulkan var jag lyckligt ovetandes om att det skulle vara Leons svaraste vulkan att bestiga. Vilket var lika bra. Igar var vi en tur pa Cerro Negro och det kandes som en promenad i parken. Det var en valuttrampad stig att folja och lutningen inte speciellt stor. Detta ar i och for sig ocksa en mycket kandare vulkan. Denna vulkan ar den som flest turister har som ett maste pa sina to-do listor under sina resor. Och det finns en anledning.
 
Detta ar namligen det enda stallet i varlden dar det finns mojlighet for vulkanboarding.
 
Vulkanboarding ar precis som det later. Man klattar upp for en aktiv vulkan i ca en timme med en pulka-liknande brada under ena armen for att sedan hoppa pa bradan och aka ner pa under en minut. Aven om vinden nog var den storsta utmaningen (att inte blasa bort fran toppen) var det valdigt svart att sta upp och titta ner pa den uppakta vagen ner. Ja, det var brant.
 
Min grupp var full av skandinavier; norrman, svenskar och till och med en dansk. Alla hade i sig en lagom dos av exaltering och nervisitet. Tror nog att nervositeten var den som tog overhand val pa toppen. Men nar det sedan var dags att glida ner var det anda vantan som var varst. Jag skulle komma mig nast sist ned och fick bara sta och se pa.
 
Historierna man far hora fran folk som har gjort detta ar manga. Vissa far upp en hastighet pa 70km/h pa vagen ned. Vissa har skrapat upp hela kroppen, mer eller mindre. Vissa fick hjarnskakning. Ja, lat oss saga att det fanns en god anledning till att vara nervos.
 
Vi daremot var en duktig grupp. Antagligen en lite for radd grupp. Bromsade hellre for lite an for mycket och noll skador eller vurpor. Nar jag kom hela vagen ner angrade jag att jag inte akte fortare. Jag ville gora det mer! Igen! Igen!
 
Detta ar det narmsta jag kan komma pulkaakning denna vintersasong, sa igen ska det goras. Ett fartfyllt aventyr som anda ar fa unnat. Kunna komma hem och beratta om nar man akte ner for en aktiv vulkan. Kanske ska lagga pa nagra kilometer i timmen och nagra skador for en tuffare story. Eventuellt ett vulkanutbrott.
 
Men jag har ett tips for er som ar sugna pa att gora det:
Gor det inte bakfull.
Och glom inte kameran.
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Momotombo - den forsta vulkanen.

Publicerad 2013-01-22 08:14:15 i Allmänt,

Nar du tar tva steg fram och glider tillbaka ett. Tank dig den psysika och fysiska anstragningen. I sex timmar jobbar du. Tva steg upp, ett steg ned. Tva steg upp, ett steg ned. Och aven nar man bara vill lagga sig ner, hissa upp den vita flaggan och tacka for sig - we had a good run, sa ar det nagot som driver en vidare. Tank om man faktiskt kommer till den dar avlagsna toppen. Tank om jag faktiskt kan klara av att bestiga en vulkan.
 
Och det gjorde jag.
 
 


En av manga fordelar med detta volontar/work-for-accomodation jobb jag har ar att jag far lov att folja med pa de turer som arrangeras gratis. Det enda jag far sta for sjalv ar den publika transport kostnaden, som i Nicaragua inte ar i narheten av 100 cordobas - strax under 30 svenska kronor. Da turpriser brukar ligga pa minst 50US dollar forstar ni att det ar en ganska lonsam fordel. Efter en vecka med reception hade jag fatt helgen ledig till att vila upp mig. En helg jag hade tankt att spendera pa den narliggande stranden med en god bok.
 
Istallet blir jag vackt en eftermiddag nar jag har slumrat till i hangmattan av Edgar, en av vara guider, som undrar om jag inte ska med och bestiga Momotombo i helgen. Nu nar jag anda ar fri. Jag vill ju egentligen ut pa turer ocksa sa lite smatt somndrucken vanglade jag ur hangmattan for att lamna passnummer och skriva upp mig pa listan. Klockan 11 lordag morgon gav vi oss ivag. Vi var en grupp pa 16 personer, inklusive guider, som skulle upp pa vulkanen.
 
Efter en knokfull buss och lika full mototaxi (tuk tuk) senare, kom vi fram till privatomradet dar vi fick borja varan vandring. Pa lordagen skulle vi bara ga i tva timmar, latt vandring, till campingplatsen. Med ett antal kilon i vaskan pa ryggen (som bland annat bestod av 6 liter vatten) och med underlag liknande lossand, vill jag inte kalla vandringen latt. Men med ett trevligt tyskt sallskap skulle aven vi komma fram. Efter en vilostund la vi ifran oss vaskorna och klattrade upp ytterligare en halvtimme for att beskada solnedgangen. Och vilken solnedgang.
 
 
Nerfarden har det guiderna lever for. Den halvtimmen det tog till varan utkiksplats tog inte ens en tredjedel ner och en campeld skapades. Det blir morkt fort har och middagen spenderades i lagornas sken och med tre amerikanare sjungandes diverse latar som skulle passa in pa tillfallet. Stamningen var precis som jag alltid tankt att det skulle vara nar jag sedan slumrade in i min sovsack under stjarnorna.
 
 
Forutom en jagare som kom forbi pa hast med en styrka pa sin ficklampa fran en annan varld, sa sov jag faktiskt ganska gott. Nar klockan ringde vid 03:30 var det anda inte sa tungt att ga upp och packa sin vaska. Men tungt skulle det bli. Forsta tva timmarna bestod av morker. Och inte lite morkt utan becksvart. Det enda man kunde se var ljuset fran sin egna ficklampa och pa min (egentligen Idas som jag fick adoptera nar hon drog hem) borjade fa ont om batterier. I detta morker traskade vi pa. Tva steg fram, ett steg bak. Det var som djup lossno, eller lossand, fast av smasten. Det var - helvete. Min chef som tycker att svordomar pa alla olika sprak ar intressant skulle nog ha uppskattat alla dessa grodor som hoppade ur min mun.
 
 
Sa kom vi upp pa andra sidan, med den brantaste biten kvar. Har tog vi frukost paus i soluppgangen. Aterigen - vilken soluppgang. Dock blev man mycket medveten om den bitande vinden som gjorde svettet till is och snart satt jag i fosterstallning och onskade bara att jag var hemma i Sverige under ett duntacke. Men jag var langt ifran den enda som fros och nar nagra borjade klattra pa den sista biten var jag inte sen att hoppa pa.
 
 
Ironiskt nog var den sista biten, som ska vara den svaraste, den biten som jag tyckte var allra enklast. Det var mycket tva steg fram, ett steg bak - men inte fullt lika illa. Stenarna var storre och att hitta fasten blev lattare och lattare. Aven om det kandes som man klattrade i evigheter och som toppen aldrig kom nagot narmre lyckades jag anda komma mig upp bland de forsta. "OY! Sarah muy fuerte!" Men sjalvklart.
 
Och sen var det bara att insupa utsikten och upplevelsen till dess absoluta maximum. Jag hade bestigit en vulkan. Jag hade klarat det. Adrenalin. Lycka. Harligt!
 
 
Nervagen trodde jag skulle bli den enkla. Tji pa mig. Det var fanimej lika jobbigt som att ga upp, om inte varre. Battre blev det ju inte av att jag lyckades glida och skrapa upp halva armen. Men hej, lite krigarsar ska man ju ocksa ha. Man ar ju en viking.
 
Benen var spagetti pa sista biten till Moto taxi och buss. Dem rorde sig bara pa sig for att de var tvugna. Och dem ville egentligen inte. Min kropp ville inte. Trots en knokfull moto taxi och buss lyckas jag somna pa bada - nagot som ocksa ar en nastan lika stor bedrift som att bestiga en vulkan.
 
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Sista kvallen med ganget for tredje gangen.

Publicerad 2013-01-14 20:19:40 i Allmänt,

Dar gick startskottet!

Da var det dags for mig att pa riktigt klara mig sjalv, utan systrarna Larssons lardomar. Har under de senaste veckorna lart mig otroligt mycket. (Da det visar sig att till och med norska 93or vet mer an mig, jag som var sa smart en gang i tiden. What went wrong?) Som att det ar faktiskt dumt att vifta runt med dina pengar, och VISAkort. Eller att kikartor faktiskt ar riktigt gott. Och ingefarsris. Och att man inte borde somna pa bussar, savida du inte vill bli av med dina saker. Nagot som jag slet valdigt mycket med nar jag hoppade pa en minibuss med avsikt pa Leon.
 
Men var tvungen att byta buss i Managua, vilket inte gjorde mig nagot da jag i alla fall fick lite frisk luft och rorelse i lederna. Och pa forsta bussen var det inga problem. Fick en smatt obehaglig nicaraguansk affarsman bredvid mig som tittade valdigt mycket pa mig samtidigt som han tydligt visade hur mycket pengar han hade i sin vaska da han plockade upp alla sedlar for att rata ut dem, innan han la dem ner pa exakt samma stalle igen. Forsok till kommuikation gjordes men jag forsokte inte ens att forsta. Snart gick han over till gestikulationer. Jahaja, han tyckte jag hade fin mun. Men sa trevligt.
 
Andra bussen darimot var en provning av annat slag. Knokfull varm minibuss dar jag var tvungen att sitta med min gigantiska, aldrig-blir-den-lattare-hur-mycket-jag-an-gor-mig-av-med vaska i knat. Folket omkring mig var hemskt snalla och log sott mot mig nar jag ramlade in. Skratten som kom nar jag inte lyckades fa upp dorren var inte hotfulla, utan trevliga. Jag gillade dem. Dock skulle farden bli lang och efter tva kvallar med Ring of Fire (tangelino (eller vad de nu var) pa norsk) och noll siesta timmar var min trotthet sa extrem att jag tuppade av i mikrosekunder for att vakna av nar huvudet foll bakat. Ja, ni vet hur det ar. Och battre blev det inte av att alla andra i bussen sov. Nar jag sedan borjade hallucinera insag jag stundens allvar.
 
Jag horde hur systrana Larsson diskuterade resrutt - in real var det spansk radio.
Jag sag en man stirra pa mig och ta av sig sin troja - in real var det ett bilsate.
Jag sag enhorningar utanfor mitt fonster - in real var det en buske.
 
Barskt uppvaknande och realitycheck kom dock pa Leons busstation. Kaos? You name it. Nar jag ramlade ut ur minibussen kunde jag inte ens ga nagonstans for det stod sa manga cykeltaxis och bara vantade. Omringade. Efter att tagit beslutet att lita pa en man med bara ett oga fann jag mig en taxi som tog mig fram. Och har ar jag nu, Sonati Hostel. Mitt kommande hem de nasta 5 veckorna. Om en timme ar det dags for upplarning!
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