Angers

Baudouin and I woke up on Monday morning as Paul was getting ready to leave. My original plan for France had been to stay in Paris the whole time and see Baudouin on that weekend because I knew he was very busy studying for his final exams for his masters. Well, the day before I left Seattle I got an email from Paul saying that he felt bad but had totally forgotten that he'd made plans to go on a trip with a couple friends leaving on that Monday. So I frantically tried to find somewhere else to go and contemplated heading down to Montpellier to see another French friend from Cameroon, Tim. Unfortunately, he was studying his tail off for his final exams and wouldn't really have been able to host me. Luckily, though, Baudouin pulled through and said I could stay at his house as long as I didn't have a problem with him studying all day.

So that morning Baudouin and I took the metro over to a place where we were meeting a guy who was going to give us a lift to Angers. Because the trains are so expensive in France, there's a new system emerging where, if you've got to drive to a certain town, you can post that on a website and ask people for some gas money to help get you there. With how expensive the trains are, I don't imagine it's too hard to find people to go with you. So Baudouin and I got some coffee and croissants and then met up with Sven and Daniel who were also heading to Angers. Sven was moving to Angers soon so I think he was trying to scout out where to live, etc. and I'm not sure what Daniel, who was Colombian, was doing there. The ride was pretty nice and we had some nice chats along the way.

Once we got to Angers, we said goodbye to Sven and Daniel and headed over to Baudouin and Annga's apartment. Annga made a bit of food for us, some curry and rice, if I remember correctly. I then took a shower, and walked around Angers while the two of them stayed at home and studied. It was a beautiful sunny day, if a little crisp out, but I left the house in just a t-shirt. Well, after walking around the town for a bit, I started getting a little chilly so I popped into a store and got a long-sleeve shirt that was on sale. I eventually found a cafe and sat there for a couple hours, reading, writing, and enjoying a bit of red wine. One interesting thing I discovered on this, my third, trip to France is that a glass of the house wine is generally the cheapest thing on the menu. My €3 glass of wine was cheaper than a latte and about the same price as a coke.

That night Baudouin's indoor soccer team had a match. Baudouin had severely twisted his ankle not long beforehand so he was sitting out this match. Baudouin had also not told any of his friends that I was in town--I'd met most of them the year before. When Fabien pulled up outside of Baudouin's apartment to pick us up, he was really surprised to see me! Big hugs and kisses on the cheeks were exchanged, as they were at the indoor field where I saw Sebastian and a few other guys I'd previously met. The match was good, I'm pretty sure that Baudouin's team won, though at about halftime we retired to the little cafe and each ordered a burger. While we were sitting there we saw one guy from a different field being carried off and in incredible pain. Turns out that he straight broke his leg near the ankle. Like, broke the bone straight in two, the ankle lower half going in a different direction. It looked terrible and the ambulance certainly wasn't making haste to get there. Anyway, after the match, I could really tell that Fab wanted to hang out some more and party but I was pretty tired from our long weekend as well as the drive earlier and so we instead promised to meet up the next day. I read for a while back at Baudouin's and then fell asleep.

I slept in a bit the next day and around 1 Fab came over and picked me up. My dad's only request for my trip was to find him a soccer jersey from somewhere around the world, and I was more than happy to oblige him. So Fab and I headed over to the SCO Angers store--SCO Angers is the local soccer team and they're in the French second division. I picked up a jersey and then Fab and I went and got a Kebab for a little late lunch. After that we played a bit of pool at a bar that had, bizarrely enough, some MLB games on. After a few games of pool we went back to Fab's house where he made some dinner.

After dinner we headed over to Matthias and Amelie's house, some old friends of Baudouin and Fabien. They had already heard the news that I was in town (I think Annga told them!) and were having a petite soiree, and invited a bunch of friends over. I felt much more comfortable speaking French that night than I had in a really long time, which I think is a little weird considering that I hadn't regularly spoken it in over a year. Baudouin and Annga had to leave around midnight because the had a full day of studying the next day. No matter, I stayed until around 2:30 talking music with Matthias and Sebastian and sharing some bands. I eventually left their house and right when I thought I was lost heading back to Baudouin's I realized I was in his old neighborhood, which right on the way, and I was able to find my way back to the apartment.

I slept in a little bit again the next day and Baudouin got back from school as I was getting up. I had a little coffee and then borrowed Baudouin's bike to head over to the train station to get a train ticket. Well, on the way there I took a bit of a spill as I was trying to hop from the street up onto the sidewalk. I knew it was going to happen and luckily I wasn't really hurt, my palm was just a little sore. The biggest injury was suffered by my pride.

Anyway, after getting my ticket I went back to Baudouin's and then Fabien came over around 3 to pick me up and we went and we watched This is 40, though it was dubbed in French. While it wasn't the most complicated plot line, I was pretty proud of myself that I understood most of the movie. I also discovered that I'd given Fab all of my music the previous year when I'd been there and he still had it on his computer under a folder titled "harley musique." Since my last hard drive had broken, I was really excited to get it all back. Unfortunately, my new hard drive, being formatted for a Mac, didn't work on his PC. Oh well, I told him that next time I came back I'd grab it from him.

Around 8 we went to an Irish bar called James Joyce and watched the Barcelona vs. Bayern Munich game with Baudouin, Seb and Annga. After the game, I hopped on the back of Baudouin's bike and we started riding back to his house. Well, a little over halfway there, a police car pulled up, filled with four policemen. (Question: What would the policemen have done if they'd had to detain somebody? Put him in the trunk?) The police honked at us and then sternly lectured us that we weren't being safe with me on the back of the bike. Baudouin and I apologized and then just as quickly as it'd started, the cops pealed out and left us. Not wanting to get into any more trouble, we walked back the rest of the way and Annga also dismounted and walked with us. At their house, I gave them a bottle of wine I'd picked up as a thank you for letting me stay with them. We had a couple glasses of wine and played some darts before going to sleep.

The next morning, Baudouin and Annga accompanied me to the train station where we had some pastries and coffee while waiting for my train, which ended up being about thirty minutes late. I could be wrong but I think I ended up making a good impression for Americans on Annga. Over coffee that morning she was even talking about how they might try to come to the states next year for a visit to Seattle. I feel like my own personal mission when traveling is to show the peoples of the world that not all Americans are closed-minded, gun-loving, Hooney boo-boo fans (yes they do have that in Europe now). I had a bit of a difficult time saying goodbye to Baudouin. He and I had spent a good deal of time together in Cameroon, frequently even staying over at each other's places. But we had to say goodbye, this is life. I feel very fortunate to have so many special people in my life, so many good friends, but it just makes it so much harder saying goodbye to them. But again, this is life. We said goodbye, I got on the train and waved to them out the window. Back to Paris, then to Rwanda, via a brief stopover in Addis Ababa.

Paris

My flight landed in Orly about 30 minutes late. I immediately pulled out my phone, found some wifi and shot off a couple quick emails to Baudouin and Paul letting them know the deal. It also seemed to take forever for our luggage to hit the carousel. I began to wonder if the luggage handlers had decided to momentarily strike in favor of a siesta. But after  about 45 minutes our bags finally arrived and I made my way into Paris. 

It took me probably about an hour and 15 minutes to get to Paul's apartment and once I arrived, I had no way of letting them know I was outside. I didn't know their apartment number, nor did I have a phone, and I didn't know the code to dial up to them. I tried shouting up at the building a few times in the hopes that a window was open but I didn't succeed. Thankfully, a guy was walking down the street and let me use his phone and Paul quickly came downstairs to meet me. It was around midnight at this point and they'd started getting worried about me, wondering if something'd happened. Nope, just tons of delays.

Up in the apartment, Baudouin had arrived a short time before from Angers and the two of them were hanging out with Paul's other roommates, Justin (who was also in Peace Corps with us) and Lisa (who is a classmate of Justin's). Baudouin and I hadn't really had time to have dinner so Paul made us a little pasta as we sat around and had some beers. Lisa and Justin soon found their ways to their respective rooms and Baudouin, Paul, and I stayed up in the living room which doubled as Paul's room. We talked, drank beer and attempted some fighter whiskey sachets that Paul had laying around. Whiskey sachets had been a very common and popular thing in Cameroon and a few former volunteers who rolled through Paris a few months before had brought Paul a few which he'd dutifully kept for Baudouin's and my visit. Well, those sachets were terrible, really made us wonder how the hell we'd had them in Cameroon. Anyway, the three of us stayed up until around 5:30am. Our spirits wanted to stay up and catch up more but our bodies were achingly tired so we hit the hey.

Paul made us breakfast the next day of Eggs and yogurt with a spot of coffee. The three of us wandered around Paul's neighborhood and tried to check out this event at a park nearby that was billed as a "cirque d'hip hop," the idea being to mix hip hop and circus into a cohesive whole. Well, it wasn't starting until later that night and it also looked to be a bit pricey so we decided against it. Nearby, though, we grabbed some kebab which really hit the spot.

We strolled through the neighborhoods and came close to where Baudouin had volunteered for a few weeks a little while back. Part of the program for his masters in teaching is that he needed to volunteer at some organization with children that didn't involve education. So he found a little children's cafe that was established near his girlfriend's former apartment in Paris. We decide to stop by this children's cafe and it was under huge renovations. It was a really cool place and seemed like an awesome place for kids to hang out after school. There were a couple "bars" where the kids could get teas, juices, or sodas; some places to play cards or foosball; and a little area they called "le marché" where kids could bring old toys or the like and sell them to other kids. This was a very cool place and of course everyone remembered Baudouin and were so happy he'd stopped by for a visit and brought along a couple friends!

After a bit of time there and Baudouin promising to come back once the renovations were finished, we left and walked along a canal for a while. Baudouin knew a bar nearby that was permanently located on a docked boat. Well, the beer was surprisingly good, not too pricey, and the view was awesome sitting on top of an old junker and looking at the canal and rows of trees and buildings. We then decided to walk around a bit more and contemplated maybe trying to go watch the Liverpool-Newcastle game. Ultimately, though, it wasn't on anywhere nearby so we went to this weird artsy place not too far away. The place was almost like a big warehouse/art gallery. We got a beer and sat down outside only to have the workers come and kick us out after a few minutes because the place was turning into a restaurant in a very short time. No matter, we went to a little area outside the door where a bunch of other people had congregated and hung out there for a while until we got too cold and decided to get up and move around. 

We were debating about what to do for dinner and settled on getting some frozen pizzas at a store and taking them back to Paul's. Well, along with the pizzas we also picked up some beer, a bottle of champagne--to celebrate our reunion!--and some limes for a bit of tequila we had. The teller looked at us with a smile and said something like "that looks like a balanced meal." Baudouin responded that with the limes we had our greens and the teller raised an eyebrow and said "that's not for the tequila?" "No," Baudouin responded, mock shocked. "Those are our vegetables for the meal." We all laughed as we walked out and made our way back to Paul's. HIs roommate Lisa was sitting at home and we quickly started cooking the pizzas and opened some beers. Somewhere along the way we also opened the bottle of tequila. Lisa was convinced that we were going to finish the bottle that night. Paul and I responded that we didn't think we'd be able to, but we definitely would finish the salt and limes! That was a refrain we kept coming back to throughout the night: "On doit finir le sel!" We must finish the salt! Well, we ended up putting some Cameroonian and Nigerian music on and dancing out hearts away that night. I realize that I'm not an unbiased party but I think Cameroonian music is probably the best to dance to.

The next morning Paul again made us some food. It was an interesting stew (from a can!) that had hot dogs, beans, and rice (among other things) in it. We then made our way over to Lions bar, an English pub only a couple subway lines away, to watch the Arsenal-Man United game. Paul is a big Arsenal fan while Baudouin and I are United supporters. United had just sealed the title the previous game and so this was a bit of a victory lap. Well, it turns out Lions bar is an Arsenal bar and Baudouin and I had to seriously mute our celebrations when United scored. All the Arsenal fans were singing songs and a couple guys were shouting obscenities and cursing profusely at the screen, in particular at a few United players and the United coach. Another guy in the room, evidently another closet-United supporter, began singing a few lines of a new United song that said something along the lines of "We've now won 20 titles, when's the last time you won anything?" Well, he quickly disappeared after the room fell silent and he got some death stares from everyone. The game was a good one but I was very happy I'd decided against wearing my Rooney jersey as that wouldn't have gone over too well.

After the game, we made our way up to the 18th arrondissement to go to a Cameroonian restaurant we'd heard of, Chez Mich. What I really had been craving was a little koki which they were unfortunately out of. So instead, we all got poisson braissé, grilled fish. In typical Cameroonian style, it came topped with sliced onions and a spicy chili sauce on the side. I'd gotten mine with grilled plantains while the other guys stuck with baton de manioc, crushed cassava that's boiled and then wrapped in banana leaves. Incredible meal. After that we stopped at one more bar to have one last beer together and watch the end of a French game. We took the metro home and then I read a bit and fell asleep.

Boats, then Bornholm

Ben and I woke up on the morning of the 24th and hopped on the metro downtown to grab some coffee at his cafe. We then sauntered around and found our way to a spot where we could take a boat tour of Copenhagen. I'm usually not terribly into these types of things but Ben had never done it either so we played tourists and jumped aboard! (After having some ice cream, of course.) The canal tour was actually pretty interesting, lots of history in it and I got to see Copenhagen from a different view than I'd ever seen before. It was a bit chilly on the water, though, and I wished I'd brought my down jacket rather than just the sweatshirt Ben was letting me borrow.

After the tour, Ben and I got some more coffee. Scandinavians sure love their coffee and I was happy to just say "When in Rome" and toss back another cup. We then headed back to Ben's, grabbed my bags and sauntered over to the train station where Ben saw me off. The train ride across the southern tip of Sweden always goes by faster than I think and by the time I knew it, we were at the ferry terminal waiting to head to Bornholm. The ferry ride was unmemorable, and I got into Rønne a little after 7 PM. Uncle Pete was waiting for me and we went into the town center and caught up over a beer and a plate of nachos before heading back across the island to their house. We split another beer from this local brewery which I believe is called Svaneke bryghuset--very high quality little brewery. Towards the end of the bottle, Aunt Maibritt returned home and we opened one last bottle to split three ways before heading to bed.

The next morning Uncle Pete and I loaded up his moped onto their little trailer. It needed some repairs so we did out best to anchor it in the trailer upright with a few straps tied haphazardously around the steering column and seat. Well, we had to stop halfway to Rønne to retie some of these traps as the moto had started to turn diagonally in the trailer. After dropping the moto off we went a little north along the island to a town called Hesle where Pete and Maibritt had a glass exhibition. There were some very big glass pieces and some striking contrasts in colors too. 

After the exhibit we drove along the northern coast of the island and found ourselves in Allinge. We stopped at a seafood restaurant and had a great traditional Bornholm meal. It was buffet-style and there were tons of different dishes ranging from a seafood chowder to pickled and smoked herring and curried salmon. Delicious. After lunch we started to walk south along the coast only to get a call from my parents about 4 minutes into the walk. They really wanted to Skype with me and due to time differences and work they wouldn't be able to wait much longer. So we hopped in the car and drove back home where I skyped with them for a bit. Following that, we got back in the car, drove a little further south and walked along the coast. The ground was covered in wild garlic that was pretty new and fresh, indeed there weren't any cloves sprouting yet. So we picked handfuls of wild garlic leaves as we made our way along some paths and down to the rocky coast.

Back at the house, we started working on dinner for the night. Uncle Pete and I concerned ourselves with making pasta while Aunt Maibritt sautéed some vegetables and lamb chops and used the wild garlic leaves to make a pesto sauce. Let me say, you've never had a pesto unless it's been made with garlic leaves.

Maibritt dropped me off at the ferry the next morning. I got back in to Copenhagen around 1 and went straight to Tess's apartment. She and I went and got some bread and made some sweet ham and cheese sandwiches. After that, we went for a walk over to Christiania and had some coffee in a dingy, high-roofed place full of dreadlocked and pierced anarchists. We wandered around the lake a bit and then finally went back to her apartment and grabbed my bags. Walking over to the metro, we met Ben who was going to accompany me to the airport while Tess split off and went to hang out with her boyfriend. 

Ben and I had a bit of an emotional goodbye at the airport. The last time I'd seen Ben had been 2010 and neither of us knew when we'd see each other again. Ben's starting school again in the fall, as am I. Ben and Camilla had talked about coming to Seattle next summer so hopefully that pans out but in this big world, who knows. We said goodbye and I grabbed one last pint of Carlsberg before hopping on my slightly delayed flight for Paris. Next stop: Orly.

Two sides of Copenhagen

I had no problems getting to the airport bright and early on the 20th. I stared out the window at the severe, but hypnotic Icelandic scenery for the hour trip to the airport. I checked in and saw a pretty funny sign in the airport: "Notice: Sleeping, Camping and Cooking are forbidden in the airport". I found that amusing, was there a problem with people pitching a tent and busting out the camp stove?

Anyway, I slept for most of the three hour flight to Copenhagen. My cousins, Ben and Tess, met me at the airport and it was really good to see them. I'd last seen Tess the previous autumn in Seattle but with Ben, I think it goes back to 2010, when I went to Denmark during a short vacation from Cameroon. Our original plan was to immediately go to Ben's place and drop off my stuff but I suggested we go to the "free city" of Christiania and grab a bite to eat as I was pretty famished. Well, it was a beautiful sunny day, a little chilly, but gorgeous. We each grabbed a falafel or kebab in Christiania center and then got a few beers and sat down by the lake. After maybe an hour there we gathered my stuff up and hopped back onto the metro to go to Ben's apartment. Leaving the gate of Christiania back into Copenhagen, there's a sign that says "You are now entering the EU," which always makes me smile. At Ben's apartment I got to meet Camilla, Ben's girlfriend, and the four of us made burgers that night.  Tess was feeling pretty tired and went home not too long after. Ben and I then decided to go down the street to a smoky, old timer Danish bar. I believe the only beers they had were Carlsberg and Tuborg, and everyone inside was at least 50. Well, that place closed pretty soon after we got there, so we went for one more beer at another place down the street. The crowd was a bit younger, and the music less ABBA-based, but it seemed to lack a bit of character that the first place had. Anyway, after a beer we both rolled back to Ben's and went to sleep.

On Sunday, Ben and I took the metro into the town center and first went to a mall. My mission was to find a new Danish soccer team jersey, as my last one (from five years ago?) was in tatters back home. Well, no luck at the sporting goods stores in the mall, the only sizes they had were for kids or very wide people. After the mall, we walked back to the walking street but since it was a Sunday, most things were closed so we eventually gave up and went to a permanent and somewhat upscale farmer's market a little ways away. Ben works in a little coffee shop there and we were able to get a couple cappuccinos on the house. Right outside of the market they were celebrating what Ben directly translated to me as Cow Days. It seems that April 21st is the first day that the farmers let their cows back out into the pastures after keeping them all winter in the barns. So there was a big promotion for a milk and cheese company, a cow was standing there in the street, and there was a big screen with a live feed from a farm on the Jutland peninsula, showing some cows lazily grazing in the pasture. The whole celebration of the Cows coming back outside seemed a little ludicrous to me, but it certainly made for a good cultural experience. Ben and I then went back in the market, got some duck sandwiches from a French stand and the sandwiches were very savory and delicious. 

We'd been walking around a lot so Ben and I went back to his place to relax a bit. I tried and eventually succeeded in streaming the Tottenham vs. Manchester City game, and the Spurs came back from two goals down and pulled off quite the upset. That night, Tess met up with us and we went to an Italian restaurant not far from Ben and Camilla's place. Camilla had found it online and there was some 20% discount with a diner's club she was apart of. Well, the food was amazing but the service was quite possibly the worst I've ever had in my life. He never cleared any plates, willfully ignored us and refused to give us tap water, instead telling us that we could only get bottled water because he "had to make money somehow." Regardless that our bill was around a hundred bucks. I'm generally pretty forgiving for mediocre service if it seems the person is at least trying. This guy was making it known to us that we were a nuisance to him and that he was intentionally trying to make us feel unwelcome. Camilla wrote a two-page email the next day to the restaurant, the dining club, and posted the review on yelp too. Take that!

Sunday night, though, Tess and I went to Rub-a-dub sundays. I can't remember the name of the place but every Sunday night they do a dub and dancehall night. The venue was like something out of a punk rock movie from the 80's. Graffiti on the walls, cheap beers, dark, dingy, a room upstairs where people smoked, and tons of characters everywhere. I talked with a Ugandan guy for a while who was getting his masters at a Danish university, and Tess and I split most of our time dancing downstairs and mocking the emcee who was a pompous, inebriated asshole who the DJs eventually had to tell to get off the stage. We left around 3 and caught the metro home, where I promptly fell asleep and started snoring on Tess's couch while she was still sitting next to me and checking her email.

We woke up around 1:30 the next afternoon and quickly got up to go meet Ben who was getting off work at the coffee shop. He had a few different types of coffee prepared ("cupped" he called it) so we could taste them and see the differences between the different beans and roasts. After that, we grabbed some pizza down the street, Tess caught a bus home and Ben and I walked back to his place. He and I watched some TV and then I got ready to go over to Tess's for dinner. I went over there just as Tess and her boyfriend Emil were finishing making a chicken caeser salad. Tess's friend Krista also joined us for dinner and the four of us had a nice time eating and talking. At around 9pm, I hinted that there was a soccer game coming on soon that I wanted to watch. Emil, though not a huge soccer fan, was into the idea and we ran down and grabbed a six pack of beers and ran back up to Tess's to watch Manchester United defeat Aston Villa to secure the title. I then took the subway back to Ben's, though Ben and Camilla were already asleep.

Ben had Tuesday off of work so he accompanied me downtown so I could get train/ferry tickets to Bornholm to see his parents, my Uncle Pete and Aunt Maibritt. Then, the two of us were finally able to find a Danish soccer jersey for me on the walking street. After that, we went to the Carlsberg brewery which had changed a lot in the six years since I was there last. It looked like they had renovated the old brewery to make it more like a museum and then in the tap room, the selection wasn't nearly as good as last time and they weren't giving away nearly as much free beer. Oh well, we still had a fun time and I was really tempted in the gift shop afterwards. (Side note: genius plan, put the gift shop after the tasting room, so all the tipsy people want to drop all their money!) We walked back to Ben's through some nice parks and next to the Copenhagen zoo. We had dinner with Camilla that night and then Ben and I went back out for one last night on the town. 

We stopped by one bar that had incredibly cheap beer, but nobody inside. So we sat out at one of the sidewalk tables, played some dice games, and had a beer. Then we went to one of my favorite bars in the whole world, The Moose. It's not far from the walking street but the beers are still pretty cheap and the atmosphere there is awesome. Graffiti and currency from around the world peppered the walls, hipsters and anarchists peacefully coexisted and, best of all, they had some soccer on TV. Places like this, and Christiania and the Rub-a-dub venue are why I love Copenhagen. On the surface, it's a beautiful, historic, cosmopolitan European capital, which has great museums, expensive food, and amazing views. Once you dig a little bit, though, you find an underbelly unlike any I've seen elsewhere. Anarchists squatting in abandoned army barracks and proclaiming a "free city," with a self-sustaining government independent of the laws of both Denmark and the EU is just a slice of what Christiania is like. And a bar like the Moose existing so close to the tourism center always threw me for a loop. I started a conversation with a guy next to me about soccer and it turned into a long conversation about sports, Europe, traveling, tons of things. He also had a couple friends who showed up and professed to be big Minnesota Vikings fans, which I found hilarious. Anyway, Ben and I didn't linger for too long once our beers were done, and we hit a 7-11 and then hopped on the metro home.

Iceland, land of expensive beer and sporadic weather

I should start this post off by apologizing for never finishing my blog for my last trip, over a year ago. Well, the short of it is that in France and England, Paul and I saw some good friends, ate good food, and watched a lot of soccer in pubs. But now it's on to more recent travels of mine.

Some of you may know that I'm returning to school in the fall. I know that my studies over the next three years are going to be very time consuming and won't leave me much room to travel and get out in the world. So, with that in mind I decided to take this opportunity to travel for a couple months, see some friends I very likely won't have a chance to visit and get out in the world again. And my trip started in Iceland.

I took the overnight flight from SeaTac to Iceland on April 16th. I arrived bright and early (around 7am) at the airport and quickly grabbed my bags, a cup of coffee, and hopped on a bus into the city. Here are some of my first impressions of Iceland:

Incredibly flat where we landed. Yellow and brown grass grew everywhere and the dirt underneath was all a volcanic black. The way into town led us off of the fjord we'd landed on and onto the mainland where huge snowy mountains slowly materialized and came almost directly out to the sea. The weather was chilly but not unbearably. It was incredibly clear and sunny when we landed which was nice. It made the briskness feel refreshing. I immediately was happy I bought some heavy duty boots the day before I left Seattle. I chuckled a bit when we passed a Taco Bell on the outskirts of town. Who knew they had those in Iceland?

So, about a week before I was set to fly out from Seattle, I realized I still didn't have a place to stay. All the hostels I looked up online seemed very expensive so I decided to throw a Hail Mary and look for something on couch surfing. Sure enough, somebody responded to me the day after I posted on the Reykjavik couch surfing board offering me a place to stay. I easily found their apartment and I'm pretty sure I woke Solvi, my couch surfing host. We chatted for a while, he made some coffee and then also some porridge. I tried a spoonful of cod liver oil, something very rich in vitamin D that apparently many Icelanders have during the long cold months of winter. It was a bit bitter and a bit fishy but not as bad as he'd prepared me for. Solvi is an interesting guy, a grad student at the university who's studying to become a park ranger so he can work at some of Iceland's huge national parks. He's spent a lot of time traveling and also some time in Senegal so we were able to talk a bit about Africa together.

After we'd had some breakfast, he took me on a little walking tour of the city and showed me around. We stopped at the local library which also doubles as a photography museum. There was an interesting exhibit of Reykjavik past/present that showed a lot of the street corners and such from twenty years ago and again today. After that, we stopped and got one of the famous Reykjavik hotdogs which was actually really good. We then stopped by a local cafe, and while I can't remember the specific name, I do know that it's quite famous across Europe. Solvi bought me a fantastic macchiato. Then, we stopped by a local fish store and then the grocery store so he could pick up some supplies. I noticed something a bit odd as we kept running into people he knew and he didn't introduce me. After the second such incident, he kind of apologized and said that it's not in Icelandic culture to introduce people to perfect strangers or really to ask somebody about themselves until you've known them for a while. Kind of odd but I wasn't really offended so it worked out.

Back at his place, I took a nap for a few hours while he then went out to an evening class he had. When I woke up, one of his roommates, Oskar, was getting ready to go out and watch the Manchester United v. West Ham game, so I tossed on my shoes and jacket and stepped out into a snow storm that had rolled in while I was napping and walked to a bar called Glaumbar. Beers there were about 6 bucks a pint, and easily ended up being the cheapest beers I had in the country. After the match was over I casually asked if we wanted to have another pint before we headed back and one turned into several and we barhopped over the city. I also tried some Brennevin, the Icelandic equivalent of aquavit, and nicknamed "the Black Death." It's made from caraway seeds so it tasted a little bit like bread. I actually liked it quite a bit. Later, Solvi met up with us for our last pint and we wandered back to their place where I fell asleep almost immediately, even though the jet lag wasn't hitting too hard yet.

I woke up the next morning and again had some coffee and porridge with Solvi. He had some classes that day and I decided it might be the good day to go to the Blue Lagoon, a man made hot springs of sorts outside of town. the drive out there was amazing, a martian landscape almost. Lava fields with yellow and brown grass on them, some mossy rocks on the roadside. Snowy mountains to our left, sea to our right. The Blue Lagoon was certainly nice but also expensive. I relaxed in the milky blue waters for a while and rubbed some of the silica mud on my face which made my skin feel fantastic and fresh. I snagged the bus back to town and then napped for a little while at their apartment. I made myself a couple cheese sandwiches when I woke up and then accompanied Solvi to an Irish pub where he was meeting up with some of his classmates and their friends. There, I talked with an American woman who'd been living in Iceland for 8 years and absolutely loved it. She was moving in a few days' time to Norway with her German boyfriend because apparently it's easier for him to work in Norway than Iceland. I had one 10 dollar beer at the Irish pub and then decided to walk back to Solvi's, while he stayed out for a little longer.

The next day, my last in Iceland, I again had coffee and porridge with Solvi and then he suggested we go for a swim at one of the local pools. Iceland has a big swimming culture so we went and swam laps for about twenty minutes and then relaxed outdoors in the hot tubs for about another thirty. After that, I bought Solvi and I some pretty rocking bleu cheese burgers at a place near the pool and then he had to run off to a meeting so I went back to the coffee shop he'd showed me my first day and I read for a couple hours while it poured rain outside. Eventually, I decided to try walking around the city a bit more but as it was raining so heavily, I just bounced back to the apartment only to find out that nobody was home. So I waited outside their door for about twenty minutes and then Oskar showed up and let me in. I took a nap, ate some cheese sandwiches, and read a lot that night. Solvi and I had been thinking about grabbing some beers as it was a Friday night and he wanted to show me how different Reykjavik is on a weekend night but he ended up napping until like 9 so when he got back up, he just made some pasta and we had dinner and chatted a bit more.

Viet Nam: Vinh, Ha Noi, and Ha Long Bay

I first must apologize for how long it's been since my last blog. The computer I'd kept a journal on for this trip crashed a while ago and I'm only now bringing myself to finish the blog. I'll try to recall everything of our trip in Vietnam from my memory now.

So we left our guesthouse bright and early the next day, intending to catch a bus to Vinh, a city in North-central Vietnam. Well, we got to the station nice and early, only to have a lot of problems once we were on the bus. My theory is that not enough tickets were sold, so the bus company was trying to make us wait until the next day. There were about 6 or 7 other westerners on the bus who were just having none of it. Eventually we came to a compromise were we paid a little extra and the bus company hired a van to take us to the Vietnamese border, at which point we'd switch to a bus. Customs were surprisingly easy, especially considering how much we'd heard about how difficult Vietnamese border guards are.

Well, actually getting another bus on the other side turned out to be a headache. The driver of our van was supposed to take care of everything but we were not surprised when he tried to get more money from us to pay the Vietnamese bus company. His English wasn't great but he tried to tell us that the Vietnamese were charging him more than they were supposed to so we had to give him more. I told him that was his responsibility and we already paid the fare so he had to cough up the little extra. I'm still not sure if the Laotian guy was trying to swindle us (and failed), swindle the Vietnamese (and failed) or if the Vietnamese bus driver was trying to scam the Laotian. Either way, the Laotian coughed up the extra dough and we were on our way. The scenery was again amazing. How can this area of the world have amazing views everywhere you turn? It was very different than Laos, much steeper mountains and deeper valleys. We didn't get to Vinh until well after dark and I think it ended up being around a 15-hour day, including the time waiting for buses, we were exhausted.

Once we finally got in to the bus station in Vinh we checked into a hotel with a couple other guys we'd been on the bus with--a Danish guy named Peter and an American guy who shall remain nameless as I forgot it. We went out for some pho with them after we checked in and also had our first Vietnamese beers--which were pretty bad. I'm not saying Beerlao was going to win any medals but it at least didn't taste like carbonated urine. The pho was also pretty good, though nothing spectacular. Vinh is known mostly just for being the hometown of Ho Chi Minh (though he's actually from a little outside of the city). It is also known for being a big place where arms were smuggled in during the Vietnam War (or the American War as it's know there).

The next morning Peter took off pretty early to get to Hanoi (or Ha Noi as we saw it frequently spelled) and the American guy walked around town a bit with Henry and I before he caught a flight down to Ho Chi Minh City in the early afternoon. He had some good advice about Vietnam he embarked to us, mostly about getting to Hanoi before Tet, the Vietnamese New Year which was happening in a few days. It'd be very difficult to travel and do much once Tet started as most businesses close and most people just spend time with family. Well, I did some investigations and found that it was only going to be like 60 bucks a person to hop on a plane up to Hanoi, which would take all of 40 minutes as opposed to yet another long bus ride (7 hours is the general estimate).

So the next day we flew up to Hanoi, and checked into a Hostel near the center of town. Hanoi is a very dynamic city, and rapidly developing into a commercial and economic hub, not to mention diplomatic as it's the capital of Vietnam. The hostel was alright, but definitely had some travellers staying there that were the type of people we'd been trying to avoid--with moderate degrees of success. In particular was this guy named Simon who had an American accent buy yet claimed to be Colombian and Danish. Well, he'd get hammered every night and just be really obnoxious. We also met a pretty cool Australian kid named Elliot who was just finishing up a few months of volunteer work in Vietnam. We had some good times hanging with him and going to a hookah bar where we were actually the only Westerners there. If I remember correctly he also gave Patrick a pair of shoes, because Patrick had only been wearing his chacos since he ditched his shoes following our soaked hike outside of Luang Namtha.

We had a great time in Hanoi, wandering around and getting lost in all the winding, narrow streets and calamity of people. Paul and I each bought a pair of new shoes and some fake-down jackets that would hopefully keep us a little warmer in France. We all saw fireworks for the first time in years on Tet, and then the next day wandered through a huge, rolling street market. I couldn't for the life of me tell you where it was, but we had a fantastic time there and I had hands-down the best bowl of soup in my life. It was pho that I'm afraid I'll never be able to have again, as everything since (and before) merely pails in comparison. I have no idea what the meat was in it, but it had fantastically flavored broth, roasted tomatoes, perfect rice noodles, the lot. We complained a little bit when the guy tried to overcharge us, but seeing as how good it was, we didn't complain too much.

The next couple days were pretty relaxing. Very little was open as it was after Tet, save for the few traveller-oriented cafes and bars around. Food was also a lot more expensive because everyone had gone all out and feasted for the holiday, making the food supply a bit smaller. Henry's brother Sam arrived one day and he slid right in to our group. He was also a nice addition to help break things up and liven us up again. We'd been getting a bit annoyed with each other pretty easily so it was good to throw somebody else in the mix.

Anyway, we had all singed up for a little trip through Ha Long Bay, one of the most magical places ever. It was about a four hour drive from Hanoi to the coast and once we got there, we were blown away. The place is so special because essentially mountains and cliffs rise out of the sea. We got onto a refitted junker along with a group of four French people, and a couple groups of Australians about the same size. Everyone was in good spirits and we all had a great time cruising through the water and admiring the scenery, even if it was a little foggy. We hiked through a cave at one point that seemed a little tourist-trappy, mostly due to the multi colored lighting throughout it. That night we did some karaoke after dinner and Henry and I busted out our classic "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" and then Sam and I did "I Don't Know Much" by Aaron Neville. I believe one of the French women did "Hotel California" with Paul and everyone had a pretty fun time.

Next day we went to an island called Monkey Island, where we stayed in some huts on a beach. We tried to do a little swimming but as it was pretty cold and highs only in the 50's, we didn't last long. We also played a little beach soccer before migrating in to play some table tennis and foosball.  Dinner that night was buffet style and again was pretty good. Some good Vietnamese food mixed with a little Western food for those who weren't accustomed to it.

The next day we got back on another boat that took us to Cat Bah Island, where we went on a surprisingly difficult hike through the woods and up a little mountain. I think they should have told us how difficult it was from the start, because we all left covered in mud and sweat. The bus ride back to Hanoi was kind of uneventful except for when the older guy next to us told us his nephew was the lead singer of Electric 6, a band best known to me for a song about wanting to take somebody to a gay bar and then a Taco Bell. Random meeting but cool nonetheless.

Back in Hanoi, the hostel didn't have room for us again so we decided to instead go to a hotel down the road which ended up being about the same price and far nicer. As this was our last night in Hanoi, we went out again and eventually met up with some of the Australians from Ha Long Bay at a bar and had a very, very late night. The next day, the last for Paul, Patrick and I, was spent laying around the hotel room and trying to grab one more bowl of pho before we headed to the airport around 8. Henry and his brother would be spending a few more weeks in Vietnam, traveling down south via train and exploring more of the country we didn't really have time to. Our goodbyes were a bit sad, but also a bit anti-climactic. Paul, Patrick, and I were all still on the same flight to Europe and then Patrick split off as Paul and I headed for our connecting flight to Paris.

The Two Faces of Traveller’s Laos

I was trying to figure out how to explain our trip after Luang Prabang, the jewel of Laos. I guess the short thing to say is that we then went off to Vang Vieng, spent two nights, and then continued on to Phonsavan. But that’s not the whole story, not even close.

I don’t really want to go too much into our time in Vang Vieng for a lot of reasons. The first is probably that I don’t want to encourage anybody to ever go there. (Side note, if you’ve never heard of this place or only know a little bit, check out this article: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/apr/07/vang-vieng-laos-party-town) Did we have an entertaining time there? Sure. It’s pretty much like Spring Break in Laos. Did we float down the river, eat lots of hamburgers and drink lots of beer? Naturally. Was the scenery incredible? Yes. That was the main saving grace of Vang Vieng, the main thing that made it worthwhile to go there. Was it an accurate representation of anything Lao? Absolutely not.

I hesitate to even consider the place in Laos. Yes, it is in the national borders and there are a few Laotians that live and work there, but the place doesn’t seem like the rest of Laos in the slightest. I didn’t see one Lao restaurant or even one Laotian there for relaxation or any purpose other than working to entertain and feed drinks to the obnoxious foreigners. The main language of the place is definitely English first, French or German next, and then Lao a distant fourth.

The more I keep writing about Vang Vieng, however, the more I get disgusted with the place and everyone who goes there to support it. If you ever go to Laos, I suggest steering clear of this place, I guess this is how I can make amends for having gone there and supported this disrespectful side of travelling. Read the article I posted above if you want to know more, I’m just going to continue writing about what happened once we got on the bus to go to Phonsavan.

Well, we hopped on the bus after two nights in Vang Vieng and like everywhere else in Laos the scenery was amazing for much of the journey. Once we started getting closer to Phonsavan and onto the Plain the landscape began changing. There were fewer trees and it was a bit more arid. This reference may not help too many people, but it reminded me a lot of northern New Mexico but flatter. The bus ride took about six or seven hours to Phonsavan, capital of the Xieng Khuang province in Northeastern Laos. The city of Phonsavan itself isn’t anything special but it’s the history and what lies around it that made it the most special and important place to me throughout the trip. A little history lesson will follow. If you don’t want to read about one of the biggest (and least known) blotches in America’s foreign policy, skip the next paragraph.

Phonsavan is a relatively new provincial capital, having been created in the 1970’s following the US’s pullout from the secret war it led here alongside the much more public one in Vietnam. The formal provincial capital, located just down the road 20 km was leveled so completely by the Americans that it was deemed a better decision to just start a new town from scratch. You see, the CIA ran a secret guerilla and aerial war against the Pathet Lao (communists) and their North Vietnamese supporters. After the dust settled and the Americans were gone, a power vacuum emerged in their wake and was to be filled by the Communists. Then, some startling statistics began to emerge. Between 1964-1973 the United States dropped more bombs on Laos than on Germany and Japan during World War II, and much of it was focused on the Xieng Khuang province. On top of that, the number of bombing runs averages out to one bombing run every eight minutes, for 9 years. Laos is now, the most heavily bombed country, per capita, in history. If this isn’t bad enough, experts estimate that 30% of the bombs dropped never detonated and are still laying the fields, waiting to explode.

So we arrived in Phonsavan knowing a bit about this history but coming for what most people do: to see the Jars. Large stone jars are situated in many different sites in the area and their actual purpose isn’t clear. Some suspect they were originally funeral urns—albeit incredibly large ones—though I prefer the local myth: there once was a group of giants who ruled the area and after a large victory in battle the chief supplied copious amounts of lao-lao and these large stone jars were the containers.

Well, we got there and found the Kong Keo guesthouse. Unfortunately, Mr. Kong couldn’t support himself and his family just on the guesthouse business so he now lives and works in China and sends money back to his wife who currently runs the guesthouse. Well, we met a couple very nice Dutch girls who invited us to this Indian Restaurant in town. We decided to check it out and it was decent and not too pricey. That night, we sat around a little fire pit outside the guesthouse and got into a discussion with a few other foreigners there including some Swiss people.

The next day we got up and found some breakfast before trying to go about and find a way to do some exploring in the area. We failed trying to find motos (they were only manual) and ended up just booking a tour the next day through our guesthouse. The Indian food from the night before was also a bit too authentic as Paul and Patrick weren’t feeling too good and ended up resting up for most of the day. Later, Henry and I went to MAG’s (Mines Advisory Group) Phonsavan office to find out some more information about UXO (Unexploded Ordinances) clearance efforts in the area. This group seems to be a fantastic organization and if anything I said earlier about the bombings tugged on your heartstrings (or sense of shame if you’re American, like me, and couldn’t believe this had happened) you should really check out their website and some more information on them. We watched a couple videos there about the bombs and UXOs still left around and then went back to the guesthouse. We hit up a really good Lao restaurant that night, again with the Dutch girls who, strangely enough, didn’t seem that interested in exploring the Plain of Jars or seeing any of the impact of the secret war. They were content to just hang out and then slowly move on to the next place in a couple days time.

Well, Patrick was feeling pretty rough on our last day in Phonsavan so he stayed at the guesthouse and rested while the three of us joined up with a number of other travelers for the tour that our guesthouse was putting together. We first went out to a site where there was a huge crater left over from the war. Looking about the countryside, we could see the hills in the distance were pock-marked with similar craters. Also, we were instructed where we could and couldn’t walk due to little markers on the ground. One half of the marker was red the other half was white. Everything on the white side up until another marker had been cleared of UXO and was safe to walk on while the other side potentially contained UXO—and almost always did have some. Indeed, as we were walking back to the van we saw a bombie (small unexploded cluster bomb) laying on the ground in the uncleared side 15 feet from where we were walking.

We then moved on to the “bomb village” which was a village where many of the residents had used old bomb shells and other artifacts from the bombs to help construct their village. Sheet metal was used for roofs and bomb casings were used as flower and vegetable beds as well as stilts for the houses. Quite industrious. After this we went for a pretty decent hike/trek. We went down into a valley and to the bottom of a waterfall where we had lunch. After lunch we had a really cool hike up through the waterfall and back to the main road where we met up again with the van.

The last thing on the agenda was to see the Jars. We went to the biggest and closest Jar site, Site 1. The scenery around was pretty but nothing spectacular. Long yellow grass blowing in the wind and some rock outcroppings lying around. The jars were somewhat eerie and certainly puzzling. I had an idea of what to expect going into it which may have been to my disadvantage. I wasn’t underwhelmed or anything but Paul and Henry were much more taken impressed with them than I was. To me, they were a bunch of jars—some huge—sitting in a field and no matter what I theorized or people said, I wasn’t going to know what they were for. Very mysterious and somewhat confusing.

We didn’t get up to too much our last night in Laos. Paul ended up taking my dose of cypro and Patrick was still resting up for most of the night. Henry and I ended up playing cards with the Dutch girls and then sitting around the fire until late into the night.

We spent three nights in Phonsavan and yet the past two days were some of the most fulfilling for me of the whole trip. Did I do anything terribly constructive? Not really. But I learned a lot about the area, the people, the history, our government, and what made this country what it is today. I also learned a bit about myself and what’s important to me in this life. I thought a lot about my friends and family back home and in Cameroon and I missed them. I wanted to send some emails off to a few people but we didn’t have internet and I’m not entirely sure what I would have said if we did have it. This was the night of January 18^th and we only had 11 days left until we parted ways.