Category: Travels
Live from Granada
Granada, what a wonderful town! Just an hour away from Managua, this gem is completely walkable, accessible, and swims in colours and kindness.
I have been enjoying ‘being a traveller’ to the fullest today despite the fact that I will be going back to the capital tomorrow afternoon to be at work on Monday. It’s a little bit sad that I’m not able to just relax fully and take all things in, however, to get the most out of it my way, I skip museums and statues, and focus on people.
In the morning, I spent some time in the main square talking and hanging out with an NGO group of women that bring children’s books to teach street children and young vendors how to read. Instead of sniffing glue, that is.
On my way to the beach, I met two young guys that I continued walking with. We found a nice bench where we got stuck for a couple of hours speaking intensely about religion and tradition – the boys had a great load of knowledge and abilities to argument and we had a great exchange of values, ideas and laughs.
They took me to a side road where I could take some nice photos and walked me back to the center when it started to become dark. Suddenly, while standing in front of a restaurant where artists were playing traditional Nicaraguan music and people joined in dancing, one of them went: “Today, I have felt something I have never felt before..” followed by a second of awkward silence and an inner red alert alarm from my side.
“I have appreciated the colours, sounds and details of my own city in a way that I have never noticed before.”
Thank you for a fantastic day, boys!
I hope I can hold on to my camera until I’m back in Managua – I have a million photos to share with you!
Safe and bruised in Managua
I have arrived at my final destination, Managua in Nicaragua, after 22 hours of adventures, surprises and “stay calm and find a solution” scenarios.
The 8h flight to Miami went well, I sat next to a nice English girl who was going for a trip around South America and shared some Lonely Planet pdf’s with her, then I watched Wreck it Ralph, and worked.
Upon arrival to Miami airport we got the confirmation that we would need to pick up our luggage and pass customs to get to our connecting flights, everything seemed clear, and my 2,5hours to connect wouldn’t be a problem. Anyway, as a rule I always make sure to find my gate before starting to explore airports so I rushed on in the front of the big stream of people, following the signs. Suddenly an airport worker started separating us into the categories of US citizens, and visitors – where US citizens seemed to walk on, and visitors quickly became a huge line of desperate people missing connecting flights, bachelor parties and guided tours. It was chaotic. “Don’t ask me, ask the government” the information man responded. Somebody handed out leaflets explaining what was going on. I negotiated my way to the front of the line. “This will take at least a couple of hours” was still the answer.
Suddenly the airport security man said “You know what? Screw this” and removed the block – so we ran. Slaloming between people and babies in carts I got lucky again and managed to get into a a line for customs that was one fifth smaller than the rest.. My boarding time was in 25 minutes. “Once you get in that room, it will take you at least an hour to exit” an officer had said before. I stood in line with very stressed people “The next flight to Barcelona doesn’t leave in three days!” and a particularily angry lady who said that “Even on a good day, it will be a bad day at Miami airport – I have missed three flights in this airport this year already.” I guess that’s somehow valuable information. I know that I will try hard to avoid a stop-over in the US and particularly Miami in the future. All the hassle about having to check out and in again, getting a US Visa, and being questioned on what I do for a living doesn’t make any sense to me at all if I’m on American soil for less than three hours, I just wanted to shout: “Stop taking yourselves so damn seriously!!”
So the officer in the booth of the line I stood in walked away for a coffee break, and a moment later another guy came who had the energy to actually make things happen. He was nice, said that Nicaragua was cool and that I should try his job if I want to be in a rush. I got my stamp, and continued to the luggage reclaim. The amount of bags was crazy, they were covering the floor all over the place. I ran around for a moment until I found my bag, and then I continued though the exit and to the bag drop-off. In the Miami airport, a luggage cart costs 5$. In coins? And my bag was in a flightbag that doesn’t have a strap. So I grabbed the 23kg’s with one hand, broke a nail, and dragged it, looking fairly strange, for 10 minutes until I got to the dropoff point, passed security once again, and found my gate. Workout for an entire week.
With a couple of minutes left to boarding, I ran off and bought myself a portable bluetooth speaker – a small gift for successfully having solved all those little adventures during the day. And I got a discount for being funny. haha
After a couple of hours of pleasant company on my Managua flight, a long taxi-ride where Chaves was the main subject of conversation, wonderful hospitality provided by an office colleague, and a long hot shower – I am now finally in a bed, 26 hours later, after 40 hours of not sleeping properly. It’s 1am.
And I have bruises on my arms – from carrying those 23kg’s, plus 10kg´s of hand luggage, in the strangest ways, while running. haha
And now I say good night from Managua with two taxi photos.
Live from London: Little things
(I’m on my Copenhagen – London flight, will continue & publish this when on the ground.)
Found a receipt in the pocket of my blazer just now and it made me smile. Thanks for picking up my things from the dry cleaner’s, Ete. Little acts of helpful kindness like that mean a lot, finding a nostalgia triggering note in my pocket means even more.
I finally have a moment for reflection and can’t help but noticing the familiar feeling that embraces me every time I set off into the unknown like this. It’s some kind of soft calm and “resetting” mode of the entire system. It’s like I automatically try to blank out my mind, erase all expectations, detox from prejudice and just arrive at my destination with a fresh canvas to paint all my impressions and experiences on.
Sure – I do research about the political situation, useful practicalities and some cultural practices, but I always try to avoid colourful guidebooks, stories and photos. I think that every place deserves its shot at attempting to strike us with awe, surprise us and just being fantastically unpredictable, fresh and different from whatever we have experienced before.
My camera and I can’t wait to see what Nicaragua has to offer. I am very happy about being on my way again, about going to work for UNICEF once more, about speaking Spanish full-time soon, about having beautiful friends that stay in touch even though I so often miss their birthday parties. And I’m extremely thankful for having such a supportive and understanding mother that keeps track of my every step, is happy for me even though I’m far away, and makes sure that I bring my quinoa oats with me.
You know your mother has been actively involved in your packing when there is random food and chocolate stuffed in the corners of your bag.
Little, but big, things.
I’m waiting to board my American Airlines flight to Miami now. Munching on lactose and wheat-free chocolate and orange cookies, holding on to my bottled water – oh, and I got that Managua boarding card without any hassle so all should be fine now.
The British Airways flight was once again COLD and the breadroll was a joke just like last time, I guess it’s their thing.
Okay, boarding – see you next time from a very different timezone!
“You don’t have an ESTA? Ha!”
So, in case anybody ever googles this:
YES, you definitely need a US visa even if you are only going to be in Miami airport for two hours.
Surprise! Never heard of anything like this. Anyway, the extremely unpleasant British Airways lady in the check-in counter wanted to cancel my ticket. I asked her to wait, ran off, and did the ESTA visa at the NOVIA counter in the airport, they were sweet, helpful and made me pay 25€. Apparently I was the fifth person today with the same issue. Uhm, what about a little information box on the website, airlines?
So I’m London bound now, let’s hope there will be no more surprises – apparently I need to declare my luggage and get my last boarding card in Miami as well. Because BA just couldn’t issue it here. Just because.
Oh, British Airways, are we really going to continue fighting in this irrationally destructive relationship of ours?
I’m very excited by the way. And my mom is the best in the world. Ciao!
The list
Almost all items on the list of lists have been ticked off. In two hours I’m boarding a train to the airport with the beautiful wooden floors.
My biggest dilemma? Which external harddrive to bring. The almost full one, or the empty one? I can’t seem to live without my database, but who really needs 2TB of stuff? “But what if I need one of my photos from 2006? Or want to listen to the Pink Floyd discography?!” Life is complicated sometimes.
I do actually have bigger things to worry about right now – speaking Spanish again after an entire year of maningue, muito bom, posso, agora, então, isso, depois, obrigada and many, many boa tarde’s, for example.
Here’s part two ofthe packing process, by the way, all packed now:
“What, you’e only bringing 23kg’s + carry-on?!” Well yeah, and myself.
Ordnung
I experience a weird kind of pleasure from having everything perfectly under control, maybe my last name makes me slightly German after all.
I have to show you my beautiful packing list tomorrow. It’s based on a master list that I adjust according to what the aim and destination of my trip is. It’s so pretty and nerdy! Oh, excessively meticulous? Me? Nahh.. haha
The kind of travel I’m packing for now is one of the more difficult types. I need formal and neutral office wear, skirts for sunny afternoons, casual beach wear, happy dancing dresses, long-distance bus wear and some warmer stuff for air-condition abused areas. Different kinds of cities, different kinds of meetings, different kinds of awesome. And I will have to look like a person almost all of the time as well.
I’m actually bringing my trainers this time as an attempt to keep on moving and get out of the office sometimes. And then there are the gadgets – a thousand essentials. I mean, who could ever do without an extension cord, a portable battery-pack, a mini luggage-scale or a USB hub?
China 2008
China was different from South America in all the ways possible. The huge contrast between freely travelling around a hot, salsa-loving, hippie friendly continent, and going to do academic research and participate in conferences in a very cold, grey, complicated and strict China was so huge that it became the foundation of my experience. The contrasts absorbed everything, everything was new, different, colourful, and wouldn’t stop amazing me.
The spicy street food, the language, the silent battery-driven scooters that would swoosh by like ghosts, the curious people, the shy smiles, the helpfulness of strangers. And then there was the lack of sarcasm, the cultural tip-toeing, the internet censorship, the incredible difficulties in communicating, the ever-present hierarchies, the uniformity in everything, the grey box that the whole society seemed to be forcefully squeezed into, the never ending struggle with authorities and the oh-so-very sensitive issue of “losing face”. It was a love-hate relationship.
I have never travelled a country as difficult as China. With all road signs in Chinese and very few English speakers around, my wish to move independently and understanding the culture more gave me no other choice than learning at least the basics of the language. So I stayed to study Chinese in Kun Ming, my favourite of the Chinese cities. This green gem in the Yunnan province was where I had a small and very moldy apartment in the university area. I also had a good friend there, Lu Chen, and we would meet for Korean kimchi sushi almost daily and talk about random things. She liked rock and was a little bit of an outcast, she wanted to travel, do things, and was very cool. Lu Chen gave me a Chinese name, Meng Xin Min.
My experience in China was also very different in the way that I spent most of my time alone. I spent time in hotels and travelled huge distances by trains and buses, one trip took me over 45 hours, and I read, listened to music, and spent a lot of time communicating with strangers using the little Chinese I knew and continuing with sign language and dictionaries. It wasn’t until I came to Beijing that I actually stayed in a hostel and met friends, went to a Christmas party at the Swedish embassy, danced and sang karaoke. Before that it was all just.. that grey box. Not having a common language with people automatically makes you quite lonely and detached, a very introvert but also rewarding process – quite harsh two months.
Now, a beautiful thing about Chinese people is that despite their shyness, they really want to know what you are saying, they want to talk and they want to be helpful. Once a group of busdrivers invited me to share their meal during a break on the road, another time I watched a strange musical soap opera with a young man on a bus. One specially inspiring meeting and memory is that from a 14 hour train ride, where the man next to me spent hours going through my dictionary and writing down the right words he found in English, until he had composed a three sentence invitation to come to his house and meet his children and wife in a city very far away. I fell asleep on that same train, and woke up to find people sleeping all over the place. On my shoulder, under my seat, under the table. I had to curl up like a meatball for my legs to fit in this cheapest “hard seat” class that I had gotten my ticket in. Vendors were selling oranges, candy and hot water for instant noodles. Everybody had some kind of music on from their mobile phone and they were singing along out loud, some people were smoking.
In the next wagon there were private little booths with clean white sheets, warm covers and soft pillows.. But that wagon was never an option for me in the first place, then I wouldn’t have met all those inspiring and sweet people. Imagine how sad that would have been.
Here are the colours:
South America 2008
I haven’t published most of these photos here before.
It’s from when I had just defended my Bachelor thesis and decided that it was time to pack my bags and leave all forms of comfort, safety and routine behind. I landed in Buenos Aires all by myself, 21 years old, on a January afternoon, equipped with the Lonely Planet and a very curious mind, and started a trip that would always come to influence my priorities, values and perspectives.
All the interesting people I met on the way, the amount of amazement and thrill I experienced, all the time I spent contemplating and the things I learnt about myself became the foundation of my adult personality. I trusted many strangers that became my friends, learnt how to play the charango, jumped from an airplane, celebrated my birthday with an entire hostel, bought strange clothes, enjoyed the little things, worked as a sound technician, burnt my skin in the sun, travelled with clowns, went to the desert, took care of people, swam with dolphins in the amazon river, discussed important matters, climbed a volcano, spent a total of 212 hours in buses, and allowed myself to fall in love. But the three most important things I brought with me from these four months in six different countries in South America, was the ability to trust my instincts, relax my mind and be genuinely happy.
Naturally monochromatic
Sturup, Sweden. February 2013. Colours not modified.
I’m back in the magnificent country where healthcare, social security and gender equality are things one can take for granted and enjoy in tranquility. Colours, however, are as rare here as the luxury of being woken up by rays of natural sunlight. Details that practically might have much less impact on one’s well being than those formerly mentioned, but still, the fact that I would get all of my belongings reimbursed in case my house would burn down or that doctor’s appointment in a couple of days that I won’t be paying anything for can’t possibly add up to the feeling of euphoria that five minutes of smiling at the sun gives me.
It’s not at all about not being thankful for what I have here, it’s more of a longing for those swirling colours on the skirt of a Bolivian lady, the perfectly organized chaos in an intersection in India, the sunrise dancing of the young Mozambicans, or just a little bit of edge.
Macchu Picchu, Peru. April 2008. Colours not modified.