May 25 - The End In Sight

Its 2am and the birds are singing, and outside the ambient light is enough to even host a game of frisbee with my frisbee - navy blue of all colours. Sleeping is hard, and not because it never gets dark enough to validate going to bed, but because at 3.30am the sunlight is forcing itself relentlessly through every possible crevice left by the blinds.It is like that single bee that always manages to seek out and exploit that one hole in the beekeepers otherwise impenetrable suit. So as we sit by the remnants of the fire from the evenings BBQ, playing guitar long into the (pseudo)night,there is little left to do but reflect on the semester that has been, through lack of better words, unforgettable.

May 20 - The City of Uppsala

So considering it's been 5 months that I've been calling Uppsala home yet haven't promoted it even slightly, it's about time I at least mention it on here. Would be pretty rude not to. So it turns out this it a pretty important place, boasting the oldest university in the Nordic countries for starters dating back to a modest 1447. One of its signature buildings is the main library building Carolina Rediviva where one can casually browse books on the shelf dating back to 1700 and beyond. And when the impressiveness of these ones wear off, one can head to the wing which contains Swedens most famous book: The Silver Bible. This beast was written in about 520 on purple parchment with gold and silver ink, and just to ensure its elaborateness would never be rivalled, is bound in solid silver. Sharing the same room is hand-written notes by Copernicus, Newton, and a hand-written score from Mozart. In short, its a pretty sweet library.


Also part of the university is the Gustavianum - an entire museum built in the building which originally housed some of the first 'academic' human dissections (ie those which weren't the result of simply killing a guy) for the University's medical students. Then once the novelty of this room wares off, which ill openly admit takes a fair while, one can check out some 10th century siccors and 8th century dice from the Vikings in the other parts of the museum - so modern looking they appear to look no different from the ones in my drawer.


Getting ready to be dissected, studies, and then feed to the dogs (seriously thats what happened) In the dissection theatre.

Jump across the road and you're outside Swedens largest Cathedral, and at the base of the massive 118.7 m high structure I admire every day from my kitchen window (and in a country this flat, its fair to say this one sticks out). Seat of Swedens arch bishop, the Uppsala Cathedral has an interior plastered with 13,000 square metres of paintings and is so big inside its like standing in a desert. Or perhaps like standing in St. Peter's in the Vatican - yeah I think that's a slightly more appropriate analogy Either way, the place is a claustrophobic's dream.. And in true Swedish style the whole cathedral is kitted out with wireless internet.


Viking boat graves, Botanical gardens, a bright pink castle, and Max (the Swedish answer to Mcdonalds). This place has it all - everything except myself, who in 2 short weeks will be leaving this city I've come to love and know so well, even if I can barely pronounce its street signs properly..


So there you have it, my plug for Uppsala that more than deserves it.

The City of Stockholm

Stockholm as seem from the ferry to Estonia

After visiting the city of Stockholm a total of nine times since living in Sweden its probably about time I wrote something about it. Only 70 km from Uppsala its only 45 minutes away on the train, although if you own a hayabusa and balls of steel like uppsala's own Ghost Rider you can do it in a crisp 15 minutes as seen here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W1Y4kcpm6nM&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0flRAlwrlc&feature=related

the first dosage of beauty in Stockholm comes wrapped up in the chaotic calm of central station, where the madness which can be found in any European train station is met with the unsurpassed composure of the Swedish. It is like a giant dance is taking place beneath the spring sun as it filters through the roof arching majestically over its occupants. In winter this scene is a whitewash of black, as a sea of woolen coats that all look the same jostle for recognition as being slightly more fashionable than the high-fashion coat adorned by a neighboring citizen. Then when spring arrived this is balanced out perfectly by the sea of bright colours, that only Europe can provide.

This amazing city, built atop 14 islands, is where cutting edge modernity lives in perfect harmony with lavish history epitomized by a monastery from 1270. But I won't attempt to compete with Wikipedia here for history lessons, but rather only enforce the fact that Stockholm is a place where we should all see at least once in our lifetime. Walking through Gamla Stan, the old town located on an island which is easily navigated to by following the horizon dotted with church spires, is an experience which never tires. Old buildings on all sides seem to arch over the crooked cobbled streets like a mother shielding a child from harm, until they suddenly give way to the vast open courtyards of squares and castles.


Gamla Stan

Then to match the beauty above ground is a world class subway. And to compare the subway in stockholm to say, the subway in New York is like comparing a new car with an old car - they both get you from A to B but they just don't smell the same. This really comes in handy when traveling around the city checking out the 70 museums that it boasts, my personal favourite being the Nobel Prize Museum which honours one of Stockholms finest assets - the Nobel Prize Ceremony. Still got a few left to go though..


Catching up with Lotta and Cajsa for lunch

My only advice is this: if its subway for lunch you seek, be prepared to spend some time hunting for one. Cheers Stockholm and Lotta and Cajsa it was wicked to see you guys..

The End of An Era (again)

Back in winter I had to exercise some serious composure when my trusty steed red lightning was superseded by Rex, who has come to be one of my dearest friends. Well I have some news that may shock you and even bring you to tears, that last weekend in a wave of violent inconsideration, Rex was stolen from outside my door. But comfort can be found in the words 'El Maraton' - my new workhorse that was stitched together from various abandoned bike bits from 'The Uppsala Bike Pool'. (Its the one with the 4kg pack of pasta on the back)


This beast puts the 'kill' in 'bicycle' and is jam packed with unusable features such as 7 unusable gears, busted brakes, and a general love of life. But it is nonetheless welcomed into my family with love, in a town owned by the bicycle. And to understand what I mean, heres a photo of one of towns bike statues which was created by a friend of mine here when they cleaned the river of approx 200 bikes before the raft races of Valborg this month.


RIP Rex.

April 26 - Återvända Hem

I hate saying it because its more cliche than a Schwarzenegger film but we don't know what we've got until it's gone. So after the best part of 5 weeks away from Uppsala, it was only when I returned to the familiarity of Sweden and my new home town that I could truly appreciate it. And just for the record I do actually study here, even if the photos I post state otherwise. Besides, I'm a geography student so technically I could get away with traveling around Europe as being 'of high academic significance to my chosen field'. But more than the comfort of knowing the right bus or being surrounded again by a whitewash of dudes in skinny jeans, was the wicked feeling of seeing my fellow students again as I arrived back to my home away from home. The beauty of total immersion, like a student exchange, is the friendships you forge and the first thing that crossed my mind was the realisation I have only one short month left to hone my German skills for those card nights, and truly understand the Sweden I have come to love.

Spring in Uppsala

But before all of this there was something of infinitely greater importance at hand - food. In order to minimise losses to hungry flatmates, I carefully planned my cupboards to be virtually empty (save a can of mushrooms and a box of salt) by the time I left my flat back in March. But after traveling non stop from dublin to london to stockholm to uppsala without a decent meal, I began to question the genious behind this feat of organisation - not helped at all by the fact the local supermarket had half burned down the night before. But there was hope, and it came in the form of a chef for a flatmate who can do a wicked fryup, though I think more than anything this was just so I wouldn't be angry at him for the party that was currently taking place in my room.

Local kids playing at the lake

The next day I wasted no time in enjoying the new spring weather as we headed to the lake and rode the shoreline in search of the perfect spot to bust out a sweet picnic. And you know those old guys from the cheese ads are right - good things take time, and when we found a spot we set up camp and stayed as long as the length of the day itself allowed. So spring is now alive and kicking, but for the Swedes it's not enough to simply see the daffodils spring up and say "oh what splendid weather we're having". No, they have to bring it in in true style with Valborg. It's a tradition which dates back to pagan times and later became associated with the Sacred Valborg cult (after year 779), but all that it really means these days (at least to the student population) is party. Massive party.

The streets of Uppsala for Valborg

People come here from all over Sweden, and Europe, to race home made rafts down the river, spray each other with champagne, make traditionally and culturally powerful-but in Swedish-speeches, and generally have let loose with whatever it is they've been bottling up all year. Unfortunately for me it was in the middle of a patch of bad health but I still had the best seat in the house with my 4th floor room overlooking the park which boasted an outdoor concert - the noise from which put my windows through the ultimate strength test. Indeed Arnie would be proud.

A Little Update..

this is just to let you know that Ive now added a post for my trip to Vemdalen (Sweden) last month before England. Continuing with the whole blog-style chronology thing means its a bit further down the page, hence this plug so you know its there. Ive also added some photos from England..

England

I Love You Ryanair

As this beauty of an airline has served me so well on all my trips across Europe I felt it deserved its very own post, these guys have been good to me. And I also think that Ryanair is the safest airline in the world. Why? because its so unsafe, potential hijackers can't run the risk that they'll crash before they get their chance. Either that, or they don't want to spend their last moments alive cramped into a seat with about as much leg room as one of those American yellow school buses (take my word for it, those bus seats are close), whilst being entertained by 3 rows of drunken European football hooligans. This taxi of the sky definitely sees some diverse clientele but I love it, and with the likes of my last fare of NZ$1, no taxes, I'm far from complaining. Cheers guys! See you soon..

April 24 - Dublin, Ireland

This is seperate from the Irish post simply because Dublin is in a sense so far removed from the south that it could be likened to comparing New York with LA, or better yet Auckland with Taihape. That is, you only notice the relative difference when you're there. My time in Dublin however was short, for the annoying thing about studying in sweden is that you have to be in Sweden to study, but it was enough to remind me how cool the place is and teach me something along the way. That is that there are two types of beauty in people. One is the one we're 'supposed'to be, and the other is found in the sincerety, loyalty, and puropse a person bestows. And I saw this from small conversations at the bus stop, to reuniting with a close friend after three years.



It was so wicked to see you Lorraine, and cheers for providing the sweet wallpaper background for this photo. Just a pity im in the way of it really.

April 22 - Kerry, Ireland

"There are two things you need when you're in Ireland: Wit and a thick skin". These were the quintessential words Murt spoke from the other side of the table as we sat huddled over a guiness in the corner of a pub - long since closed to anyone who wasn't a friend of the owner - as we discussed the culture, psychology, philosophy and history of this fascinating country. And it was to be just the first of many visits to the local guiness-refilling-station and its guests, however the language barrier posed a bit of a problem. You see I thought I'd grasped the irish accent after living here for 6 months but this was the south and so I was back to square one - the only reason I knew the patrons were actually speaking english and not gaelic was that i recognised the swear words, which came out with unmistakable frequency.



I worked with Murt back in 2006 when I was an outdoor adventure instructor in the north of Ireland and returned this Easter to see County Kerry - the south east part of the country with a cultural flavour stronger than an off blue cheese and a history deeper than a chicago deep-dish pizza. All to be experienced with the company of a man who's knowledge of it all is surpassed only by the mystery the land sourrounding him retains. The original plan was to do some climbing, but given Ireland's not-so-stunning track record of good weather it was no surprise that this was suppressed to driving all over the region (past some rather nice climbing crags) and learning a bit about the half of the country I never had the honour of experiencing three years ago. And one thing I love about Ireland is its cliffs, even when Im not climbing them. For they have perfected the art of self promotion - always wrapped in an impenetrable blanket of cloud and fog that exhibits the same emotion of the cliffs they clothe.

Then the nature of the nature is transcribed directly into the castles, towers, and other structures which litter the landscape, all embodying a mysterious and ancient impression that grows more powerful as time continues. A perfect example can be seen in the church in the centre of sleepy Miltown - established in 484. Or the Viking watch tower from 1100, which stands like a proud phallus on a desolate and windswept landscape, and walking along the deserted beach the pummeling Atlantic weather is ironically comforting in a desperate kind of way. Here they say "next parish: America". Driving further, up through the Gap of Dunloe which is scattered with small lakes like pools of blood from the finger which scratched its existence into the landscape, one is rewarded with the South Pole Inn. This pub was founded by Tom Crean- the uneducated son of a poor local hill farmer who's antarctic explorations serve as one of the greatest tales of adventure ever known - after his retirement. A hero who to this day is still unknown despite his rapport with the likes of Scott and Shackleton, Tom Crean's legacy is enshrined in this humble building on the isolated Dingle Peninsula, and it's not a bad place to eat a Guinness either.


Venturing even further and there lies Inch - where the words hand-painted on a brick wall by the beach say what I have been trying to say for the last 5 years since I first ventured from home.

Dear Inch I must leave you, I have promises to keep
And many miles to go before my last sleep


More words of wisdom a pub in Kerry once yielded referred to the perpetually bleak weather of Ireland being greatest blessing. Why? because its got everything else to offer and so with it, it keeps those away who cannot see beauty through it. And luckily it will always be like this, ensuring that the true essence of this country will never be drowned out of existence.

Thanks Murt for the insights, the laughs, and the conversation.
Sláinte.



For a sweet adventure story-come history lesson, head here: http://website.lineone.net/~polar.publishing/tomcreanunsunghero.htm and for photos:

Ireland