Finland and the former USSR

After a few false starts we finally began our trip south from Muodoslompolo. I didn't mention the northern vistas much in my last post cos I was gushing about the locals we'd met. It's an extraordinary place to be. The trees have this look of malnourishment, and grow more sparsely than I'm used to seeing. The lack of light means it's a real fight for any young plant to really get a foothold, and the low angle of the sun reflects a foreign shade of green from the sporadic growth. Also the sky feels bigger. You can't see it so to speak but there's this feeling of depth when you look upwards that you don't get elsewhere. Perhaps the sky actually is bigger because it's being viewed from the flatter part of our elliptical sphere shaped earth, I don't really know. Any way, we took Oliver's advice and headed towards a town called Roveniemi in northern Finland. Along the way we saw hundreds of Reindeer. It was hard to tell but we think they were probably Sami herds and they looked delicious. As we passed some through some low mountain ranges that are home to ski fields, I again wished we were there in winter so we could play in the snow. -20c in winter though....jebus.

Oliver told us about a really nice cafe in Roveniemi which was so awesome! The barrister made a brilliant espresso and the decor was everything Amanda would want of a cafe. Loads of retro bits and pieces, and some awesome vintage board games strewn about. None of the seats or tables matched. Just how a cafe should me. We also went to Santa's village which was pretty hilarious. The Arctic circle runs right through the middle of the car park. Santa was on smoko which was a shame, but we got to snicker at the ridiculously over priced souvenirs. We spent the next few days driving towards Helsinki, sleeping in Edward in some random roadside spots and generally gawking for reindeer and elk on the road. 

Wicked espresso and hot chocolate

Amanda playing retro pinball

Three days after leaving Muodoslompolo the fear and anxiety of being van less struck again. About thirty minutes south of Jyväskylä we stopped for lunch and I noticed a strong smell of diesel. The pump was once again gushing out fuel, but this time is was severe. I pulled it apart to check the o rings hadn't perished in the cold (they were plastic not rubber) and noticed that the thread on a bolt which attaches the pump lid was stripped. I asked in a hardware store in Joutsa if they could help at all (again, thank goodness everyone in Europe speaks English) and they suggested two possible mechanics. I randomly picked one and we drove round dumping diesel all over the road as we went. This was a long shot. Either the mechanic was a miracle worker, or we had to get rid of the van and get a plane back to the UK. The mechanic was a mint guy. He'd lived in Australia growing up so had perfect English. He wasn't like the other paint by numbers mechanics we'd been to previously and was happy to fix things rather than replace them. After fixing the broken thread he noticed that the welding done by our previous saviour Jönne, had caused the gasket on the pump lid to perish. Not ideal. There aren't many Citroens in Finland so a replacement was unlikely. But Jönne and Äke had obviously endowed us with magical powers of good luck. The mechanic's friend had just replaced the engine of his Peuegot Partner which had a very similar pump to ours. This friend was mint. He rocked up in his dirty ripped corduroy trousers, scruffy woollen jersey and unkempt grey beard and white hair. I love it when people know you can't understand them but the talk anyway. We had a great yarn. I was talking about how awesome Edward was. He was probably on about how shit Citroens are. As he talked the forgotten cigarette in the corner of his mouth dumped ash all through his beard and into my open fuel pump (which are supposed to stay 'operating theatre clean'). Anyway he showed me the pump, it was a little different but the lid would work as a complete replacement meaning the earlier spindle leak problem would be fixed as well as the lid gasket sealing properly. After giving the 'new' pump a steam clean, the mechanic showed me how to take the lid off, swap it with ours and put it all back together. Hey presto, no leaks and all for a very very reasonable €10 (but we had no cash euros so it was €13 including tax to use my card). He wouldn't charge for labour, just the cost of his mates pump (money towards fags I reckon). Not a bad deal. A replacement pump could have been more than €200. Yet another Scandinavian hero.

Roadside fuel pump leak investigation - not good apparently

So we were back on the road within a few hours of first striking trouble. Music cranked, sun shining, and a general happy-go-lucky vibe filling Edward to the brim. That evening we finally made it to Helsinki. We couch surfed there with a lovely guy named Jussi. He lives in the northern suburbs in a nice studio style apartment. Helsinki is pretty nice. Not too big but plenty going on. It didn't feel quite as touristy as Copenhagen or Stockholm, probably as it's a bit more of a mission for Western Europeans. We stayed a few days, hopping around on the reasonably priced public transport system and checking out more markets and thrift shops. We went to possibly the best vintage collectibles shop in the world. It had some seriously amazing stuff with seriously amazing and out of our league price tags. I really wanted to buy a mint condition bass melodica but €50 would have seriously have dented our budget. Helsinki has plenty of classic touristy things to do as well. The Olympic park from the 1950's looked pretty awesome but was closed for autumn, as was the kooky looking Linnanmäki theme park. We did get to take a small ferry out to an archipelago that was once a important defensive position for the city. There was a dry docked U-boat there and some awesome forts and cannons. 

Lots of expensive retro goodies

Dry docked U-Boat

After a few days larking about in Helsinki we took the ferry to Estonia. This was pretty interesting as there were so many drunk Finns heading over to grab some cheap liquor and head back again. In the lounge bar a mustachioed, skullet sporting ageing rocker was banging out the hits on acoustic guitar. He had made some terrible backing tracks for these covers and sang everything in a voice which was a cross between the douche from Creed and the douche from Incubus. Once he'd had enough we were subjected to an hour of karaoke. Finnish folk songs were murdered by techno beats and heinously drunk vocalists. After the three hour crossing we made it to the self proclaimed land of cheaper fuel prices. 

It certainly was cheaper than Finland, but Polish petrol
prices put Estonia to shame

Ferryman plays Roxanne by Andrew Straight


In Tallin we couch surfed with a great guy called Peeter. He was in his forties, so he had some pretty interesting stories of growing up in a Soviet republic. When he was 10 years old he was delivering papers for pocket money and was questioned by the KGB about some anti-soviet pamphlets that had been circulating. Scary stuff. He was awesome to stay with and showed us some great old soviet buildings around the town. In the 80's the Soviets built a giant concrete concert hall that looks more like a bunker than a place of culture. It hasn't been used for a long time and now is basically a giant canvas for street art and a garden for stray weeds. 

That big lump of concrete in the background is the concert hall

We watched the Rugby World Cup Final in an Irish bar in the town centre. What a rush!!! There were so many French guys there and I felt for them. They were hurting pretty bad at some of the calls the ref made. Again there were a few embarrassing over enthusiastic New Zealanders in the pub. It's a shame, they really put out an awful image of our country. The French guys were all patriotic and fired up, but respectful and open minded even when fifty fifty calls weren't going their way. The Kiwis however were swearing, yelling racist obscenities and generally being real dicks. At half time it was pretty tense inside but everyone was in a social mood, except the one eyed All Blacks club in the corner. One particular meat head came inside after a cigarette and had to pass through the area where the French supporters were watching the game. With a sinister smirk on his face he yelled (language disclaimer Mum), "Fuck off you fucking French pricks. You're gone. Fuck off!!!!", and casually found his way back to his seat with his proud girlfriend clinging to his arm not realising she was being used as a human shield. My blood boiled. I was dumb founded and confused. What a dick. I look back on this moment all the time and wish I had have given this guy a piece of my mind. After the game had finished, with the win tainted by this dick head's outburst, I went up to a couple of the French guys and tried to apologise for what that guy had said. They were really cool about it and brushed it off as sport induced madness. What cool guys. If someone had yelled something similar about the All Blacks I'm sure there would have been a fight in that pub. Why are there so many goons in the world?

I shaved my face for the first time since the rugby world
cup started, while we were in Tallin. This mo lasted five
minutes. When did I get a Buzz Lightyear chin?

Trying to forget the guy that had ruined what should have been a very fond memory, we took a nice (and free) walking tour of the old town and then went to a crazy thrift market. There were literally tonnes of Soviet and Nazi era souvenirs. I was really tempted to buy a Russian red cross satchel from WWll but the price was a bit hefty, and it was quite possibly fake. Amanda picked up some sweet badges with made in the USSR on the back. Tallin is a very cool city but according to Peeter it has lost some of it's charm in recent years due to a huge influx of tourists. I hope it hangs on to what it has left of its quiet and cool style and doesn't go completely down the Brugge route.

Some old prison in Tallin

Sweet Soviet badges - that dragon is eating a horse!!!

Our next stop was Tartu, about 200km south east of Tallin. Oliver had suggested we go to Tartu saying it was like Tallin's cooler and less well known younger brother. We stayed with this wicked German guy called Lars. He works at the uni in Tartu and was a blast to hang out with. He had played in several bands back in Germany and used to do band promotion and booking work. He was also right into film photography and had some awesome vintage cameras, so we all had lots to talk about. Tartu is similar in vibe to Dunedin. Out of 100,000 residents 20,000 are students. We had an awesome time walking the streets, checking out some hand craft stores and sifting through rows of early 20th century wooden cottages. Lars and his mate Jodi took us out for a few beers at some cool local pubs. We tried a local pub snack that I'll be trying to recreate back home; black bread with garlic or "praetud leivad küüslaugu-hapukoorega". So so good. We had such a good time in Tartu that we stayed an extra night and enjoyed a classic Estonian tradition; piping hot sauna!

praetud leivad küüslaugu-hapukoorega - say it really fast five times

Amanda and I bump into Lars other on our way out of town -
Check out the awesome wooden cottages in the background

Sad and bored captive bears

After exchanging music with Lars we carried on south and camped in a national park in northern Latvia. When we woke we realised the car park we were in was for a large outdoor zoo with bears, wolves, and lots of other local animals so we decided to have a look around. It felt a bit wrong seeing all these great animals in their natural habitat, but fenced in and unable to roam completely free. In saying that some of the pens were more like paddocks and howling with the wolves was pretty bloody cool. I don't know what we were talking about but they were happy to chat. Having fixed our animal addiction for a few days we started heading for Riga and went though a small village with an abandoned paper mill. While I was making myself a coffee Amanda went to check it out. When she came back we decided to investigate more and got some cool snaps. This was our first introduction to the beauty of derelict old buildings, and we soon become obsessed.

Abandoned paper mill

Impromptu trampoline in the abandoned paper mill

Soviet lunch

In Riga we couchsurfed yet again. This time with a nice couple, Arnis and Liega. They were very hospitable and had some good advice on abandoned buildings to visit. On our first day in Riga we drove back to the national park to see a bunker that Lars had recommended. We wanted to go on the way down but it was closed. Basically it's a giant underground complex built to keep the Soviet leaders of the Baltic states safe in the event of a nuclear war. As a cunning ruse those sneaky Soviets built an old people's home above it and it's still in use today. We walked into a reception area that smelt of broccoli and anti bacterial soap, there was even some old geezer hanging out in his jarmies. After losing a very tough game of get to the front of the queue (seriously there are no rules in the Baltic countries, just spread accross the front of the service area and try to be next to get noticed) Amanda finally managed to ask about the tour. The only guide was Latvian so we just tagged along at the back and made up our own narrative. The no photography rule was apparently rather elastic so we joined all the Latvian tourists and got a bunch of cool snaps. At the end we got to try some traditional Soviet food; basically soggy pork filled pasta with sour cream and dill. It was quite shit. Luckily there was some slightly berry flavoured sugar water to wash it down with. I got to wear a soviet gas mask which was pretty buzzy. Party on Darth.

Check out the awesome records that Stallin's mates had been
grooving to twenty metres underground

Arnis hangin with some toy dog in Lennin Bar

I don't remember exactly when we realised that I'd left my satchel, along with both of our passports, in Lars' apartment in Tartu. That was a real ball buster. We contemplated driving all the way back to pick it up but Arnis suggested using a bus service to deliver the bag. Lars, the hero, took the satchel down to the bus station and tried to hand it off to the bus driver who didn't want a bar of it. In Lars' words he 'found the most normal looking English speaking couple' and convinced them to help out some strangers. How very nice of them. We met Brodie and Narissa at the Riga bus station and helped them find their hotel. This was a bit like a scene form the amazing race; I had no idea what I was up to but pretended I knew Old Riga like the back of my hand. After they had settled in we all went to this awesome pub called Lenin Bar that Arnis had shown us the night before. They have some awesome beer and inside it looks like a Soviet era sitting room. We shouted Brodie and Narissa a few rounds for being awesome, and we talked a bit of smack. Apparently they rifled through our bag before agreeing to drop it to us, just in case we were tricking them into being drug mules or something. Fair enough I reckon. Good on them for cracking on with the mission though.

Creepy hill of crosses in Latvia

We spent a couple more days in Riga being classic tourists before we headed for Lithuania. On the way we had hoped to find an abandoned nuclear missile silo, but the GPS coordinates we found were completely wrong. We did find some interesting abandoned buildings though. After a couple of nights camping in random spots in Lithuania, we went to Vilnius. We stayed for one night with a couch surfing host, Migle, in her tiny Soviet era apartment. She shares her bedroom (which is actually the living room) with her 12 year old daughter. They insisted that we should have the fold out couch and Migle slept on the floor. What amazing hospitality! The next day they took us to a cemetery to see the thousands of candles that were lit for All Souls day. 

Migle's dog, Debe -
He was crazy and excitable

Migle made us potato cakes with jam to eat
with some delicious beer. Awesome hosting.

Feeling rather peaceful we moved on to meet our next host Rasa, a friend of our mate Silvia. Rasa and her boyfriend Povilas took us to to a mint underground craft beer bar and then we went back to their apartment to sample his many different flavours of moonshine. It's fair to say we were both a little ill the next day. Povilas had mentioned that moonshine on it's own won't give you a hangover. I believed him and agreed that I would have to try each and every flavour. He had about ten bottles lying about, each containing a different fruit or herb soaking in a sea of 120 proof moonshine. About halfway through the samples Amanda had enough and decided to go to sleep. A quick drunken bed building mission and she was happily comatosed. I popped outside with Povilas and enjoyed a very tasty (but according to my own rules forbidden) cigarette. It's fair to say that when I awoke I was ill and feeling bloody sorry for myself. 

A popular thing to do when you get married in some European
countries is put a padlock on  a bridge and throw the
key in the river. Something to do with everlasting love,
or a cunning ploy by padlock companies?

Northward - Forests, ten o'clock screams and reindeer

Counting myself lucky that I didn't get caught stealing a shower from the sports club in Copenhagen, we made our way north to Helsingor to catch the ferry to Helsingborg in Sweden. We could have gone over the big bridge from Copenhagen to Malmo but, even though bridges are awesome, ferrys are exciting and motorways are boring. On the way to Helsingor we were pulled over by a policeman who I assumed was going to ticket me for only having one head lamp working (they have to be on day and night in Scandinavia). He went to Amanda's window, naturally, and was surprised to find we were from New Zealand and were planning to drive all the way to Lapland. He said good luck and wished us well. There was no mention of the busted headlamp. The ferry crossing was uneventful and Helsinborg was nothing special. There was a distinct lack of internet cafes so we resorted to grabbing a coffee at McDonald's and hooking up to the wifi for an hour or so to check future travel plans and couch surfing arrangements. This turned into a filthy habit for the rest of our trip; they are just so easy to find, and always have internet. But the coffee is so awful.

Our last Danish in Denmark

Once we left Helsingborg we felt like (to quote Reon Murtha) we were on the track proper. Hundreds and thousands of pine trees lined the smooth and straight single laned roads that regularly dipped through small valleys with lakes on either side. Nearly all the houses were red with white trim (a throw back to when red paint was cheap because of all the iron ore mining). It was pretty easy to find camping spots as the country is so sparsely populated. We'd spend our days easing ever north and taking walks in cute little towns, and our nights cooking awesome one pot meals on the gas hob and playing cards or board games in the back of the van. We visited Öland, an island off the south east coast of Sweden. There are tonnes of stone age and iron age ruins here and we spent over a day roaming around checking everything out. When night fell we found what appeared to be a pretty normal camp spot in an area called Trollskogen (Troll's Forest). We went for a stroll in the dark and it was spooky as hell. The knobbly old oak trees look like Ents and I swear they were watching us. When we woke the next morning the sun was rising over the Baltic sea and streaming directly into the back windows of the van. It was surreal. 

Eskjo

Runestone -  Öland

Mushrooms on Öland

Our camp site near Trollskogen

After Öland we made our way to Linköping where Emma, another friend from Dunedin, was home for a few months visiting her parents. We stayed there for a few nights and got treated to some amazing Swedish hospitality. Fish bake with apple sauce was a revelation. As was lingon berry jam with cheese! We had to check out IKEA and their amazingly cheap coffee and hotdogs (although the dogs were about the size of my pinky finger). Emma took us to Gamla Linköping (Old Linköping), where we got shown the workings of an old printing press by some enthusiastic old timers, then for a walk through an amazing local forest. We even got to meet some local horses. Emma and her parents were amazing hosts and we felt quite at home.

Amanda and Emma in a forest

 I will buy a horse one day and ride him around like a train in the night. 

We said a fond farewell to Emma and family and then spent a couple of days in Stockholm, camping in a huge park near Saltsjö-Duvnäs and catching the train in to town to avoid parking and congestion charges. We didn't plan to see anything in particular and just roamed the city for two days. We watched the All Blacks destroy the French in a packed Irish bar, again avoiding all the chest thumping racist code heads chugging pints and making dicks of themselves at 10am in the morning. After the rugby Amanda went looking about while I busked for an hour or so on a big tourist alley. I got a pretty good response and made a few kroner. Stockholm is really lovely but riddled with tourists and so bloody expensive. We found some nice parks to relax in the awesome autumn sun. I think it must have been around late September by this stage so we had to start adding layers to our summer attire to keep out the fresh northern air.

Our sneaky Stockholm camp site, next to an abandoned forest hut

The green arrow is the camp site and the red marker where we got the train each day

Our friend Nick lives in Uppsala, just north of Stockholm, so we went and stayed with him for a few nights. He was pretty busy with uni so we showed ourselves around the town and generally chilled out. He lives in a large student accommodation complex so there's lots going on, and awesome (free) commercial laundry facilities nearby. It's the little things, aye. Every night at 10pm every student in his area screams out their windows. It's called the ten o'clock screams and cracked me up every time I heard it. I took this recording of it.


10 o'clock screams


We planned to go out drinking one night so had to take a bike ride into town. Two bikes between four slightly drunk people meant some awesome old school doubling went down. It was pretty crazy. Our bike was an old hack that Nick had fixed up and was a bit of a beast to ride but it was hilarious. Back pedalling to brake is awesome, especially when there's two of you going down a huge hill towards a busy intersection/pedestrian area. It was a grand laugh. When we got to town, all the pubs were shut for some silly reason, but the student bars were open. No student ID meant no entry so we missioned back home to Nick's, getting a little lost on the way and generally fighting to keep the two of us upright on the old bike.


There are some cool op shops in Uppsala, but we didn't really have a need for vintage clothing. We did find an awesome thick woollen blanket which was going to be essential as we progressed north. Just before we left Uppsala I noticed a bit of diesel on the ground under the car. I thought I'd have a crack at seeing if the seals were all okay and tried to undo a bolt on the injector pump. It snapped straight off. It turns out it was made of gravy. We managed to get it back together with the tiny bit of thread that remained and went to the nearest mechanic. He was the first Scandinavian we'd met who didn't speak English, because he was actually Turkish. With the clever use of google translate he quoted us 8000 kronor (about $1600nz) to sort it out. No thanks mate. We tried a few other places and none of them would replace the small bolt we needed, they all wanted to put a whole new fuel pump in. Money grubbing bastards. It was still working, but the fuel pump was literally held together by a thread. So after a day of deliberating and staying at Nick's place another night we decided to risk it all, gaffer tape the bolt to the pump so if it came off we could find it again, and leg it the 1200km to Lapland in the North. 

Gaff fixes everything

I saw an Elk just north of Uppsala, but Amanda missed. I made a bold promise that we would see another before getting to the far north. Elk (or moose if you're North American) are hilarious looking and sometimes get drunk on fermenting apples and try to climb trees.


The journey north took us three days. We avoided driving after dark so we didn't hit any elk or reindeer on the road. Everyone in Sweden has HUGE mother fathering spot lights on their cars to see animals from 200m away. We had one headlight with a range of about thirty metres. The first night after leaving Uppsala we stayed just north of Sundsvall, and the following morning took the scenic route along the Höga Kusten (high coastal route). Endless hours of easy driving roads breezing through never ending pine forests. Our next camping spot was a little south of Lulea next to a small gated village. It was a nice spot right near the water and we spotted some red squirrels in the morning. While I was making coffee an old local came down to check out what we were up to. He didn't seem too phased, maybe a little suspicious. We had a brief chat with him, and he continued on his way. Around lunch time we stopped in a rest area next to some flooded huts. I have no idea why they were there.

Morning wake up north of Sundsvall

Breakfast sunrise

Buzzy flooded huts

Later in the day we finally crossed the Arctic circle, which was pretty exciting. Somehow the fuel pump was still holding together so I did a dance under the sign and wondered if anyone else had danced there. We saw quite a lot of reindeer on the way, grazing in some tasty green fields by the road. At bout 5pm we finally made it to our destination. After keeping our eyes peeled for elk all day we saw one just as we got to Muodoslompolo and my promise held strong. 

Happy and free Reindeer

Blue team GOOOOOO!!!!!!!

A month earlier we had signed up to a website called workaway, and organised a stay in Lapland where we'd be volunteering in exchange for food and accommodation. Out host, an awesome English guy named Oliver, needed help to renovate his massive place. As soon as we had arrived and unpacked, Oliver took us to a restaurant in Finland where we had some deliciously huge pizzas with smoked reindeer and other exotic goodies on them. They were AMAZING! When we got back to the village we had a tour of Oliver's gargantuan house and met his Norwegian tree cat, Holly, and her kitten Mini. Our accommodation was bunk room style cabin, separate from the house and attached to a sauna! Really nice place. It felt like being on school camp.

Holly the Norwegian tree cat and he amazing tail, 
with Mini the half Norwegian tree cat/half one-eyed-cat kitten

The stars were amazing up there and on our first night we were lucky to see the Northern lights. They were not too active, but it was still bloody incredible. There was also an uncanny amount of shooting stars, maybe one every thirty seconds or so. I have never seen a sky that impressive. Tekapo comes close, but the sky in Muodoslompolo is HUGE. You feel like you are above the atmosphere. Every now and then a shadow would pass silently over us. It was a snow owl checking us out, in super stealth mode. Complete silence on the top of the world. Surreal.

Some faint aurora action over our cabin; not the last we saw of the Northern Lights

Mince and cheese pies in Deutschland

After ten amazing days in Holland we pointed Edwards nose towards Germany. The north of Holland was much the same: dikes, small dense towns and loads of wind farms. All very enjoyable to drive through. Shame about the big ol' fat rain and low visability. Cruising along the enourmous sea barrier called Afsluitdijk, I marvelled at the Dutch and their never ending fight with the ocean. Civil engineering pornography everywhere. Just before the Dutch/German border we stopped in Leeuwarden, a university town, and spent a night playing board games with Amanda's cousins, Lieke and Annemieke. 


I was pretty excited when we got to Germany and the infamous autobahn. Edward actually did pretty well. In a brain explosion moment I threw caution to the wind and went hunting for Edward's top speed. At 135kph I decided that it was time to back down (I'll never know how much faster he could have gone). I'm sure the engine still had plenty to give but it felt like I was driving through custard with the massive air resistance and floaty suspension. Just as I pulled back into the right hand lane a Maserati screamed past us at more than 200kph. Captain Carbon Emissions shows no mercy.


We didn't expect a lot from Hamburg. I didn't know much about it apart from that the Beatles cut their teeth at some basement bar in the Reperbahn and there was a massive port that the allies took exception to in the 1940's. Basically, we were just keen to see our old mate Hugh for a few days. Hugh is a Dunedin lad, but has spent most of the last 5 years in Germany. His adopted home town really took us by surprise. There is so much going on there. Everyone we met was really cool, and easy to get on with. There is this organised messiness about Hamburg which is hard to explain. Lots of street art and graffiti, and loads of homeless people, but it's still tidy and welcoming. And the homeless crowd are a nice bunch. I'd say Hamburg has a higher percentage of attractive people than any part of the world I've been to. Amanda agrees. Hugh had offered us a place to crash at his place, but at the last minute couldn't take us in due to an unexpected romantic development. So we parked our van under a bridge next to his flat in Sternschanze and camped there during our stay. It actually worked out fine (aside from the hassle of midnight nature calls), and we had no trouble with the law for illegal camping.


Hugh works at a little bar called Aurel and made sure we were well supplied with booze for our few nights in town. The night we arrived we went drinking at Aurel and somehow ended up at some Peruvian guys flat. He's a tattoo artist and is basically the man. Hugh (in a state of severe inebriation) wrote something on his mate Gorca's arm with biro. Five minutes later it was permanent and the Peruvian tattooist  was looking for another victim. We decided to leg it. We were tired from a lot of driving, but I was also worried that I would take the offer of a dirt cheap tat and regret it.

Before

After

We basically spent the week drinking, relaxing on the beach with a club mate (sounds like martay said in a New Zealand accent), a south american style fizzy tea with heaps of pep, and sussing out some sweet flea markets. One night we saw a French band (a pretty awesome two piece with tight jeans, tight grooves and a name I can't remember) playing in a bar on the Reeperbahn, and afterwards I tried my hand at busking back in Sternschanze. It was a bit grotty and lots of drunk girls were requesting really bad songs and paying me a few cents for the trouble. They were German girls but all spoke this weird heavily american accented english. They sounded like actors in 1950's Hollywood war films. I wish I spoke Deutsch because it wasn't nice to listen to. One particularly smashed girl wanted me to play Jack Johnson. I refused and she got right up in my grill, fell over my guitar case spraying coins everywhere and breaking a strap. I gave up busking and we headed for bed. When we got back to the van it was about 1am and there were still loads of punters out so I said goodnight to Amanda and decided to change tactic. I told her I'd just walk around the block and see if anyone was interesting in listening to me play, so I'd probably be back really soon. I found a dark alley next to a kebab shop and decided to play a song and if nothing happened go back to bed. So I sat down on some sticky concrete by myself and started playing something by Paul Cathro. Eventually some guy heard the racket and came in to see what was going on. Once we'd established that I can't speak German he said "wow your guitar is cool, have two euros, I'm gonna get some friends from the kebab shop. Can we eat and listen?". Before long the alley was filled with Germans suprised that a drunken New Zealander was playing guitar in a random Hamburg alley. Most were soaking up beer and vodka with the clever use of rotisserie grilled meat (some things remain universal), and were generous with their left over coins. I also drew a small crowd of homeless people. It was such a blast. One homeless guy brought me a chair from his sleeping area, and proceeded to dance like Michael Jackson while I busked. It was a pretty spirited performance and everyone was amazed at how good he was so they dished out some change for him too. I made about €20, 2 beers and a bag of ham and cheese snacks. I tried giving the homeless guy a handful of my coins but he refused to take the money. He gladly accepted the beer. Meanwhile Amanda was sound asleep just around the corner, missing out on all the fun. It's times like these when you wish you both had phones. Dang.

Stocking up on cheap German beer before crossing in Denmark.
Note the one litre can of Tuborg!

After about 5 days we said farewell to a bunch of friends by making some amazing mince and cheese pies. Making meat pies is easy and they are so delicious and naughty. We drove north to a place called Haddeby, just south of the Danish border, and camped for the night. The next day we stocked up on beer because in Scandinavia the law states that alcohol must contain 3% gold and the price reflects this. After a night couchsurfing and eating an awesome host made curry in Kolding (nothing to see here) and a night camping near Roskilde (where we went to a great Viking ship museum) we were in Copenhagen. We couchsurfed the first night and camped near a sportsground the next. I managed to catch the All Blacks give Japan a good smacking in pool play of the Rugby World Cup. Rugby isn't very popular in Scandinavia so I had to resort to heading to an awful Irish pub. There were a bunch of kiwi jocks being heroes so I sat in a corner and talked to two of the three Danes in the world who are interested in rugby.  Copenhagen is a pretty cool place. We saw a lot of it on foot and a tiny bit on the free city bikes. Using city bikes was like riding the joke bikes in Alexandra so we didn't do that again. 

Our couchsurfing accommodation in Kolding. Our host built
the boat in the corner for a dress up party! Madness. He works for lego.

Viking museum

The gate into Christiania

Of course, we visited Cristiania. They have a no photos rule there. We weren't sure why until we passed the first street and saw about 20 venders selling marijuana in all it's various forms. It is illegal in Demark but for some reason it's no problem in Christiania. There were a few dodgy looking groups of people there but general the vibe was pretty free love on the free love freeway. When we woke the next morning a nice German couple came to greet us. They had camped in their pimping VW transporter on the same street as us. They told us to grab a shower in the sports complex right next to us that appeared to have been left unlocked. Great advice. When I came out of the open shower room the place was full of young boys getting ready for football. It was a close call. If I had have showered ten minutes later I could be on a list of known paedophiles in Europe. Ideal.

Onward Edward

Back at work I was bored to the bone so I spent most of my time drawing up hundreds of possible holiday routes on Googlemaps. We tentatively decided that we should try to drive from Edinburgh around the north and eastern coasts of the UK, spend a week or so in the Netherlands, then slowly make our way to Lapland in northern Sweden where we would volunteer for a week or so. Hopefully we'd see the northern lights then carry on down through Finland and the Baltics, Poland, Germany, then hoof it back to London. 16,000km in total. 14 countries if you count the different flags in the UK. Ambitious.

So I finally finished work at the end of July and drove back up to Edinburgh to start our holiday. We stayed a few extra nights as Amanda was a bit sick, but this meant that we had a chance to see some more of the city. I'll say it again. Edinburgh is mint. We went to a sea bird colony and saw some puffins, seals and thousands of gannets. It was incredible, but if you've ever been lucky enough to play sniff the urinal sponge you'll know how ridiculous it smelt. David Attenborough describes the sanctuary as one of the seven wonders of the natural world, my friend Lilly calls is bird shit island. Both are fair descriptions. After a few days Amanda was feeling okay so we drove a bit further north to Pitlochry. Lilly and Jimmy, our mates from Dunedin, were living and working in his parents B&B. We were lucky as they had no guests so we got to stay in a lovely 4 star room and live the non-camping life for two nights. Pints in the sun, paasha for tea and a great game of boozey putt putt in the pitch dark on the practise green next door. Jimmy was a great host, and passed on some awesome local knowledge for the rest of our trip around the UK. 

Jimmy and I having a beer in the secret rotunda

 A mean spot for a picnic near Pitlochry

These two were having more fun than the dolphins

We spent the next week or so driving around the coast of Scotland and the Isle of Skye. A highlight for me had to be seeing dolphins cruising in Moray Firth near Inverness. The low: suffering hordes of ferocious midges. At the time I didn't realise that they were biting, infact I pulled the hard man routine and refused repellent knowing that I am all that is man and midges hate me. The real barstard is that it took about 3 days for them to really itch, so I thought I actually hadn't been bitten and happily continued the hardman routine until I was eventually fatally crippled by the burn. Midges suck almost as much as Six60. We ran out of diesel somewhere on the Isle Of Sky. After attempting to hitch for about forty five minutes we waved down a bus and Amanda did a mission to the nearest town for some diesel. She scored a ride back with a buzzy linesman who was wearing a sweet poncho and baggy trousers. That was awesome... 

Shoe lace fail on Ol Man Of Storr, Isle of Sky

When we got to Glasgow we had our first mechanical drama. I had replaced the brake pads and discs a month earlier as I thought the discs were warped. They were warped, but this was being caused by a faulty brake calliper. So by Glasgow the discs were warped again and every time I used the brakes Edward would do the Macarena. We had to have them replaced, along with a brake caliper and two tyres that had been punished in the process. So all that cost us what I payed for the van in the first place. Stink.

Since we'd lost a bit of travel time we made a dash down the east coast of England. We stopped in Blackpool for a look. It was pretty tacky and full of obese tourists  who were spending money on bad casino games with shitty prizes. We sped through Liverpool, which was basically a ghost town because of the recent riots, and camped somewhere in the north of Wales. Waking up to some rare sun we meandered around the Welsh countryside. The valleys are very very cool. We ended up in Hay On Why, a cute little town that straddles the border with England. It's famous for having heaps of books. There was an awesome honesty box book shop in a ruined castle. A few nights later we stayed near Cardiff with Amanda's friend's grandparents, Idris and Melvina. We were spoilt rotten and enjoyed some great yarns and great food. They kindly dropped us to the ferry in Swansea and let us leave Edward in their locked yard.

Panda sheep in Wales

Nice horsies on the common

Our crossing to Cork on the ferry was mint! Big waves, high winds and hardly any passengers. I don't hold much of a kite string to Ireland, but entering Cork harbour really stirred something up inside me. It was pretty spectacular at 7am, with the low morning sun spraying the sky a dazzling shade of red and the hills an indescribable green. I felt like I was heading home. It was my third time in Cork. Ireland is always great but this visit was pretty special with a bunch of family over to see my brother's brand new son, Donnacha. The party after Donnacha's christening was brilliant! I played a few classic hits to warm everyone up, my uncle sang a Maori blessing and Mike (my brother), boyed up with plenty of Guiness and New Zealand wine, performed a seriously amazing haka! A few Irish cats got a wee fright when he started yelling for no apparrent reason and thought maybe he was upset about something. Everyone was in great form. It was sad to have to say goodbye after only a few days. The return crossing was mellow and Idris picked us up in Swansea and took us home to a big breakfast and some more great stories. We packed up Edward and headed towards the tourist trap that is Stone Henge. It was fine. Just so bloody busy. There were so many gymies and jeans tourists that it was hard to get the Druidic vibe going. We found a nice common marshland near Salisbury to camp that night. While Amanda was cooking a mean chicken chilli on our trusty camping stove, some horses came over to see what we were up to. They were so nice and friendly and loved a good pat. In the morning we woke up to a bunch of cars and horse floats making a racket. I thought we were going to get a pasting by the locals for camping there but they were all very friendly and maybe just thought we were a bit crazy. It turned out that over night one of the horses had been stung by a swarm of wasps and was found up to it's neck in a river. What a commotion. The horse was fine, more scared than hurt. Poor horsey. 

Blockhaus D'Eperlecques

I was dreading the drive into London. I hate traffic, and I hate traffic jams. Dunedin is bliss. But actually the trip wasn't so bad. We only drove as far as Putney; that's as close as you get to central London with free parking. After meeting up with Mum, Dad and my Aunties in Victoria, we all got the tube over to Camden. They hadn't been on the tube yet (there isn't one in Ashburton), so it was a blast. We had a good look around the touristy market in Camden lock and went for a cheap pub feed at the local Wetherspoons. If your prepared to forego atmosphere and music then the Wetherspoons chain have some pretty cheap pub food. When I first arrived in the UK I was astounded at what £2.50 could get me for breakfast at Wetherspoons; never could shake that tacky vibe though. We said another sad goodbye and headed south to Dover and Folkeston. The route we chose turned out great aside from the 3 hours it took to clear greater London. Classic country side with narrow lanes and thatched roof houses everywhere. The midnight channel tunnel crossing was hassle free and we slept in a car park near Calais. In Eperlecques there's an old secret Nazi weapons factory and V2 rocket launch site so we spent most of the next day there. Bit of a mind melt. One of Hitler's two hundred odd launch sites for sending death to London. On our way through Belgium we stopped at a few war graves in Flanders and looked over the names. So many young lads from home who died in Europe. We carried on to Brugge where we had stayed earlier in the year, had a burger and a walk around the town then slept  in the van down a dark back street next to some windmills. We were woken by what I thought was the Police banging on the windows to give us a ticket for illegal camping. Turns out it was massively loud thunder and a great lightning storm. I love electrical storms. They make me feel tiny.

We had been to Amsterdam on our last trip to Holland so gave it a miss this time around and drove straight on to Langedijk, where a bunch of Amanda's relatives live. This lot know how to have a good time and within a few hours of arriving we were well fed, well clean, well drunk and having a cracking time at a bowling alley. Turns out Amanda is quite good at pub sports (darts, bowling, pool) and I am useless. I think I got one strike. Consistency is not my forte.