The Drifters

After almost eight months we were back on our beloved European continent. Lisbon was cold but welcoming. I was euphoric to see Europe again and nearly kissed the soil, but I also started to get very anxious about going to Sweden. I have been away for long periods of time on many occasions but had never experienced a homecoming without my mother’s presence. There are so many frightening firsts to go through when loosing someone.

The pretty Portuguese facades helped a little…

…as did the pretty views. We leisurely strolled around, and talked about the first time I visited Lisbon with my mother some 25 years ago. She had the wonderful ability to make every occasion feel romantic and adventurous. Life was never dull or gloomy in her presence.

When I think about my nationality I often think of myself as European rather than Swedish. The EU might not be a smooth operator in all aspects, but I feel that it has created a sense of togetherness between Europeans. What an awful word “togetherness” is! It sound like an expression of a life coach, or a team building activity lecturer. I think I prefer thinking about the EU as a fellowship, as if invented by Tolkien.

One of my favourite things about Europe is that it is so walkable – the whole continent is made for strolling, flâneuring, hiking and walking. I have not found this to be the case anywhere else in the world. I especially remember once when I asked for directions in Anchorage, Alaska, the very kind and helpful local said that it simply wasn’t possible to walk and that I would need a car (public transport never seems an option outside of NYC) – it turned out to be five blocks away and about 15 minutes walk…

After our day in Lisbon we started the very last leg of the cruise, with our sails set for England. The proximity to London is very obvious in this photo.

We were happily surprised to arrive at Gravesend, which is the harbour where Marlow  is retelling his African adventures in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. Life is a never ending story of cultural associations.

We were now days from home and this dragon, resident of Guildhall Great Hall, pretty much sums up how I was seeing my future. Within days I was supposed to get back to the harsh reality, after living in an escapist bubble for nearly a year.

Luckily I had the support of my favourite men. Hiding from reality in dark historic pubs proved to be an excellent idea. Here we are sitting in the very seat where Dickens used to have his pint back in the olden days (among many other pubs).

Gordon is showing off and maybe exaggerates a little…

…and goes on about it several hours later when we exit Dr Johnson’s museum 🙂 Jokes aside, Gordon tends to gesticulate vividly.

With heavy hearts we had to leave our friends and London behind to board yet another train, the wonderful Eurostar, and begin the very last leg of our journey back to Stockholm. We were at least leaving in style, from one of the prettiest railway stations I know.

We traveled through 4 continents, 20 countries (9 were new to us, 11 we had visited previously); 30,000 km by land, 24,100 km by sea and 5,100 by air. Totalling nearly 60,000 km. Meaning we traveled 1.5 times around the world, although not actually circumnavigating the world, in approximately 220 days. Not very impressive if compared to Phileas Fogg, but much less stressful and competitive. This makes me think of the extraordinary journalist Nellie Bly, who beat Phileas’ fictional record in 72 days.

It always amazes me how easy traveling is, and how friendly and helpful most people are on this planet. We did not miss a single bus or train, nothing was ever stolen, no one even tried to cheat us (just the customary haggling), every single step was smooth as silk. My least favourite parts were the two flights, and the bus ride from China to Laos. My favourite parts were all the train rides, experiencing Central Asia, and encountering new and old friends.

Looking back it is sad to think of the reasons we left on this trip. The grief was so intense and palpable that it almost felt like a person, as if we were a drifting troika, instead of our usual decisive duo.

I am writing this 1,5 years after we got back, and almost 2,5 years after she passed, and I have now come to a stage where I feel deeply and truly grateful for having her in my life for 35 years. I can still be bitter and enraged for not getting another 30 or so years, which I had always expected, but I have realised how many people that never got to experience such a magical relationship with their mothers at all, so I have decided to settle with the years that I got. After all there is not much I can do, besides remembering her.

The next stop was supposed to be mysterious Ascension island, but we were told the sea was too rough to go ashore. The sea looked as calm as ever, and our disappointment soon lead to flourishing conspiracy theories about top secret military activities on the island. I loved how much gossip that took place on the ship, there were juicy stories about passengers drunkenly offending the captain, adulterous affairs, at least two people were left behind on islands due to their rudeness, and there were even people dying on board (not the Agatha Christie kind, heart attacks seemed the most common cause of death). Who knew cruises were such spectacles!

The sweet and lovely Jill was an amazing source of information, and knew everything that was worth knowing on the ship. I also loved listening to her stories of the swinging sixties in London, back when Carnaby street was the centre of the universe and place to be.

The mischievous and oh so charming Frank, had the bluest eyes and was the greatest dancer on the ship – only arthritis could hold him back (his own words, not mine)! Apparently he had a twin brother that only came out late at night and embarrassed Frank, but for some reason they were never seen together…

Diane and Dave, both former primary school teachers were just as sweet and kind as they look, talking about their grandchildren, and inviting us to their home back in Australia, but could all of a sudden start talking about their Californian road trips in the sixties, and how they did “many a things that they would not tell their children”. Which obviously made me love them twice as much!

Jeff was the first person we met on the ship, he started off a conversation by asking us if there was no age limit on the ship, are the two of you even allowed? Jeff and I are both early risers, and we used to have breakfast long before our spouses got out of bed. He saw The Beatles in Hamburg before they were famous, but did not think much of them. Imagine seeing them in a shady harbour club in the early sixties, absolutely legendary! Jeff’s wife Helen we only saw a few minutes at a time, since she was always on the run to some activity – shuffle board, bridge, bingo or just any other activity.

We got to know many wonderful people on the ship, but these two, Gordon and Gerald, will remain friends for life.  We were placed next to each other at dinner on the very first night and within minutes realised how much we had in common – literature, art, science and political views. But most importantly, the long conversations we had (for the next 36 days) slowly made me realise that life would actually get better, and become bearable, at some point in the not too distant future. I always knew this intellectually, but this was the first time that I actually felt it. The only negative aspect of this newfound friendship is that they live far, far away from Europe – in bloody Freemantle. We miss them dearly.

On this picture we are drinking champagne when crossing the equator. In 1986 I crossed the equator for the first time on an Aeorflot plane, and all passengers were given champagne. I assume I was given a substitute since I was 6 years old (but who knows, after all it was a Russian flight), but it made a big impression on me and I always remember it every time I cross the equator, although it’s never really announced nowadays. Flying might still have been a little bit glamorous in the 80’s? At least long haul flights?

Anyway, after eight days gossiping at sea we reached Casablanca. The night before arrival they showed the movie. It is one of our favourite movies so it was a lovely experience to watch it approaching the city were it was set (well sort of, it was filmed in a Hollywood studio).

We were full of anticipation and were not disappointed, the city is filled with, mainly white (hence the name) art deco houses….

…and a multitude of gorgeous cinemas.

This cinema still had the original Casablanca posters on the wall.

There is a fake Rick’s cafe in Casablanca, which is supposed to be a kitschy tourist trap (I am very fond of cheesy tourist traps!), but we were not allowed in since Joen didn’t look fancy enough. We did, however, find a bar with just the right cinematic atmosphere – slightly dystopic and simultaneously hopeful.

Most of the other passengers were not impressed by Casablanca and found it dirty, derelict and dingy – something that we rather referred to as faded beauty.

When boarding the ship in the evening we saw this man, an official who sorted the paper work, and Joen was contemplating whether he would go up to him and start a conversation and ending it with “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship“.

The end.

It was exciting to cruise into a new ocean; leaving the warm and sedate Indian Ocean for the colder, rougher Atlantic. A couple of days later we arrived in Walvis bay, Namibia, and were greeted by a seal with a deafening cry for food. I am not sure if he was familiar with the crew on this Chinese ship, but he did not seem surprised to be given fish, almost as if he took it for granted.

There was another welcoming committee. I never get tired of watching flamingoes and other long-legged birds walk their adorably stiff walk. It probably goes without saying, but it always brings my mind to the ministry of silly walks.

We have been to many deserts, but never to a coastal desert (only briefly in Lima), which I believe are quite rare ecosystems. The sand dunes are a stones throw away from the ocean, a remarkable sight.

This retro sci-fi looking plant is a Welwitschia, it only has two leaves that can grow 8m long, and can reach an age of 1000-2000 years. It is sometimes referred to as a “living fossil”, which enhances its retro-futuristic aura. This is one of the most arid areas on earth so the Welwitschia, and other coastal desert plants, collects water from the fog coming in from the ocean at night. Extraordinary!

In concert with the sci-fi theme, we visited an area reminiscing a moon landscape.

The most spectacular part were the magnificent, picture perfect sand dunes. We have always wanted to visit Namibia – this little sneak peak just made the longing so much worse, and we obediently went back to the ship with heavy hearts.

Fortunately, we were full of anticipation for the next destination – Saint Helena – another four days straight out into the Atlantic ocean. Remote as can be. When we got there, we were again shipped ashore in life boats.

Saint Helena’s remoteness made it a suitable abode and exile location for the psychopathological narcissist Napoleon, as opposed to the island of Elba. He was detained in this very house – Longwood house – until the time of his death in 1821.

He was initially buried on the island, but his remains were later moved to a more accessible location in Paris, Les Invalides.

Nearly two hundred years later another malignant psychopathic narcissist is leading the world’s current superpower. I think Longwood house would be an excellent residential option for Donald Trump after the impeachment and subsequent resignation.

When we visited (April 2016) the only way to reach the island, beside a cruise like ours, was by the post boat that sailed every two weeks from Cape town. Since it just left the day before, it took over four weeks for our postcards to reach Europe. Nowadays, there are infrequent flights from the UK.

Saint Helena was discovered by Portuguese explorers in 1502. It wasn’t colonised until 1658, but was previously used for restocking of fresh water and food en route to the spice islands. The island was not as lush back then, and much of its flora is not native, but was planted for the purpose of restocking the passing ships.

This was the destination that Joen looked forward to the most, whereas I was more excited about Central Asia, but we were both after the same feeling of remoteness and desolation. The cruise was, however, everything but desolate, which we actually enjoyed more than we ever expected.

There were three stops in South Africa. The first was Durban. I had an important assignment and was in dire need of wifi to download a multitude of journals. The wifi on the ship made my dial up back in 1997 seem cutting edge. So we spent most of the day in a hotel, and did not see much of Durban. But I wrote a great piece on the rabies virus’ ability to evade the immune system, which I’m sure beats all of Durban’s sights. These are the ship’s lanterns in Durban harbour anyway.

A few days later we arrived in Mossel Bay. Its harbour could not accommodate our ship so we had to go ashore in the life boats, which was absolutely thrilling! We felt like big eyed kids watching them being winched down, and the grown ups in us found it a bit worrying how slow the process was. But what was more exciting was the notion of these waters being filled with white sharks! It has been a life long dream of mine to cage dive among them, but since it isn’t eco-system friendly, I can’t bloody do it. But I’m sure they were there, lurking beneath the life boat, biding their time.

We went on a more ethical kind of safari and saw the usual suspects. Waterbucks (seen above), rhinos (de-horned to prevent poaching), giraffes, lots of different antelope species…

…wildebeests and adorable zebras. Some odd decade ago, just outside Nairobi, I saw wild zebras for the first time, and I shrieked like a lunatic. I still (almost) shriek when I see all kind of animals, even though I handle them everyday at work. Their presence never ceases to amaze and amuse me.

These magnificent lions lived in the national park, but were kept semi-wild in order to protect them from poachers. Seeing all these animals was fantastic, but could not be compared to the safaris that we have been to in Serengeti.

A geological lion’s head (that’s what this mountain is called) greeted our ship the next day when we arrived in Cape Town early morning. There is something dramatic about approaching a foggy, cloudy coastline – almost as if there is a thought behind what parts it chooses to reveal.

We were welcomed rather suspiciously.

We wanted to go up table mountain, and see the rock hyrax (a furry little animal related to elephants), but queues were ridiculous so we walked around and marvelled at art deco buildings instead. I love these reliefs of regional animals – here elephants and baboons can be seen. Little local details like that makes me inexplicably happy. There is something about themes that appeal to me immensely.

We visited the South African National Gallery, and were introduced to Moses Tladi’s beautiful paintings. Tladi (pronounced with a click) was the first black artist to be exhibited in SA. They also had an impressive Flemish collection.

We managed to find a protea species, and I got thrilled again since it is SAs national flower – appealing to my theme spirit.

In the afternoon we had reservations at Belmont Mount Nelson Hotel, where we had the best afternoon tea we have ever had. As a life-long anglophile I have had my fair share. Champagne (SA version so not real) was very cheap…

…and things got slightly out of hand. We got increasingly greedy and gluttonous, and continued to a wine tasting bar in the harbour, where we stayed until we almost missed the ship at midnight. So many deadly sins in one day.

On the ninth day (this is starting to sound like the creation myth) we were back on terra firma. Our first stop was Mauritius. We were astounded to find out that we had sea legs! The ground kept swaying for hours, I almost thought this was a myth. Scurvy up next?

Mauritius is often associated with its paradise beaches and resorts, but the capital of Port Louis is a wonderfully cheerful, colourful and dilapidated place.

We spent hours people and building watching, and then hopped on a local bus to the northern part of the island, through the deliciously named Pamplemousse district.

We passed sugar cane plantations listening to the bus driver’s choice of blasting Indian music, with many people singing along sit-dancing. To top things up, it was the day after Holi (a Hindu spring festival), so a lot of people were still covered with colour powder. It felt like we had stepped right into a Bollywood movie. Hinduism is the main religion in Mauritius, followed by christianity.

Our destination was the stunning 18th century plantation estate, Domaine de Labourdonnois. It is an active estate with exotic fruit orchards, vanilla and sugar cane plantations, spices and its own rum distillery.

Mauritius do not have any native mammal species, or an ancient native population for that matter. The Dutch, who were the first settlers in 1638, introduced domestic animals and deer, which are represented on these beautiful wall paintings. Sadly, this contributed to the extinction of the Dodo bird. My mother once adopted some Dodo bones in our names to support the wonderful Grant Museum of Zoology in London.

Astor was patiently waiting for us on our return to Port Louis.

On the very next day we arrived at Réunion island, which is one of the outermost regions of the EU. This was the first time in several months that we were allowed to enter a country without any visa requirements, which made us feel unproportionally welcome. It belongs to France, and is obviously not a colony, but an overseas department.

It felt extremely French with its boulangeries, bistros and abundance of pharmacies. There were museums with French impressionist paintings and well-manicured gardens…

…although with slightly more exotic flora.

We spent all day in the capital Saint-Denis, and unfortunately did not have time to explore Réunion’s splendid and dramatic nature. That is the biggest downside with a cruise, you only get tiny teasers of the destinations.

A lot of the beautiful old buildings looked uninhabited and secretive. This is how I imagine the tropical version of Miss Havisham’s mansion.

After we had explored every nook, cranny and museum of this pretty little city, we sat back and sipped French wine, nibbled on chèvre chaud and observed the street life. Love this lady’s outfit.

It was a surreal feeling, being on French grounds, where everything is excessively French (isn’t it always?), but at the same time on a distant tropical island in the Indian Ocean. I assume we would be allowed to move, and work there, considering we are EU citizens? I don’t necessarily need to move there, unless there is an infectious disease outbreak of some sorts, but I definitely want to go back hiking in Réunion’s mountains.

Train travelling could not get us further west, so we embarked on a cruise ship! I can now relate fully to the antropomorphization of ships. Seeing this photo of Astor now (almost exactly a year later) brings such feelings of nostalgia, an aching to rekindle a lost friendship.

We dreamed of travelling back to Europe on a freighter, but they were fully booked since long. At first, I felt misplaced on Astor when we were greeted by overly cheerful and service-minded staff – a long shot from my romantic, far more adventurous image of the silent, suspicious, almost hostile (they would of course warm up step by step) tobacco chewing sea men.

But little did I know that we were about to meet Gordon and Gerald on the very first night <3 I will get back to these two lovelies in another post.

The pilot boat saw us off when we left the Australian continent, and I could not help but feel a bit anxious and lonely when they returned ashore…

…and we sailed off into the sunset. We were not to see land for nine full days, and I was not sure how comfortable I would feel being that isolated, way out on the Indian Ocean for that long.

It turned out it suited us better than we had ever expected. The ocean gives the same sense of monotonous zen like feeling, like train traveling on the steppe or in the desert, continuously rocking you into a sleepy state.

We were instantly minor celebrities on the ship. This was not attributed to any of our accomplishments, but to our very tender age, in comparison to the other passengers. We were a good 30 to 50 years younger than most, and everyone was incessantly curious about what we were doing on this floating retirement home (their words, not mine!). They were all worried we would be bored, but we could not have been happier spending time with them, and sharing their extensive life experience.

On the morning of the ninth day we were almost a little intimidated going ashore, leaving the cocooning safety of the ship behind.

We left Adelaide on this fabulous wonder of steel: the Indian Pacific, which crosses the whole continent from Sydney to Perth.

It is a legendary luxury train with five star food and accommodation. We were, however, traveling in the cheap carriage, together with other plebeians, clapping our hands rather than rattling our jewellery so to speak.

We enjoyed this beautiful desolate view for three days, bringing our minds back to the Kazakh and Mongolian steppes. During sunset it had the most amazing sanguineous tint (#no filter). Remote and perpetual sceneries like this makes me analytical and philosophical in an objective way, and I feel that I see things so clearly.

They had a diner like buffet for us plebs. The food might not have been five star, but the service was very warm and friendly, making up tenfold for its quality.

We had been looking forward to a pit stop in a tiny town called Cook, with a population of four people, way out in the middle of nowhere. When we got there, we were not allowed to get off the train, since a supposedly armed lunatic was running amok. We waited in the train for a couple of hours until the police arrived. I have no idea how they got there so quickly, the nearest town is about 10 hours away.

The crook in Cook was not one of its four inhabitants, and was taken away by the police. Cook was built nearly a century ago to serve the train line, which later closed down when the railway was privatised.

It is now a ghost town, and you can hear the wind whistle just like in an old Clint Eastwood movie and see tumble weed rolling by (OK we didn’t see tumbleweed, but there could and should have been some).

The school was abandoned twenty years ago. That is a dingo painted on the building and I actually saw a real dingo run along the plain, which was the true icing on the cake!

The Nullarbor plain (no tree plain) stretches 200,000 square km and is an outback experience that is on the bucket list of many Australians. We were thrilled since we had not visited the true outback during this trip, but at least we got to parade around in it an hour or so.

Next time we visit Australia we will definitely visit the interior, we also want to see rock paintings.

Sadly we could not stay in this place, and got on to our lovely train and travelled..

…into Western Australia. Perth was the final destination but we quickly travelled further to…

…Freemantle, a short ride away on the coastline. We stayed for a few days and were then about to do something that we have never done before.

We took the ferry back to Melbourne and then turned the point of the compass to the west. We travelled on the Overland, this time with the Pet Shop Boys “Go west” soundtrack in my head. Internet just told me that it is a cover, Village People did the original version. Pet Shop Boys was the first concert I ever went to, I was 11 years old and went with my mother. I had the best mother one could ever wish for.

We arrived in Adelaide, which has a gold rush wild west feel to it (many places in Australia do). We only stayed briefly and then headed to the wine regions in the Barossa valley.

We visited large and famous vineyards, such as Jacob’s creek. Cabernet Sauvignon is one of our favourite grapes.

We also visited smaller vineyards. I find these rusty colours so beautiful.

The colour combination of this flowering eucalyptus is equally magnificent.

Pretty, sloping tin roofs are a common sight. There was so much tin everywhere. I don’t know if this is specific for Southern Australia or if we just started paying attention to it. According to our beloved internet it is not a big tin mining region (Tasmania and Western Australia are).

I have seen many beautiful art nouveau/deco zinc bars (mainly in France), this beautiful tin bar feels like the working men’s club version.

Painted tin fence.

We found an abandoned railway station and followed the tracks out to the countryside with a backpack full of wine.

We could not believe our luck when, in the middle of nowhere, we found a car graveyard full of beautiful old wrecks!!!

It had the most wonderful eerie, sepulchral ( I am so pleased that I finally got to use that lovely word) atmosphere.

We had a wine picknick among the dead cars, having long wine tinted quasi deep philosophical conversations. And then we remember no more.

It is not possible to continue further south by train so we traveled to Tasmania by ferry. I don’t know if it is customary to wear a minimum amount of clothing while crossing the Bass’ strait, but we had no problem meeting the requirements.

We went to Tasmania to visit my wonderful aunt Maggan!! She has lived in Australia for over 40 years, and hitchhiked pretty much all the way from Sweden. Traveling by land all that distance, sounds familiar? She took the route through India and had to fly over Burma, but took the boat from Singapore to Australia. She has been a major inspiration to me all my life and means a lot to me.

She is a crazy bird lady, her home is like an aviary. She constantly travels the world with other ornithologists, this year Ethiopia was up. When I was little she was a cow-girl working on a ranch in Queensland, looking after hundreds of cows and breeding horses. At 39 years of age she went to vet school (giving hope to people who think they are too old for a carrier change?), she is now semi-retired and sees a few cases per week. It was so much fun seeing cases together, fulfilling a childhood dream of mine!

Maggan spends most of her time gardening and planting trees, and is a true conservationist. She can also make beautiful saddles and leatherwork, is a taxidermist (for which she used to be hired by museums), makes her own furniture and is a fantastic painter/illustrator. She also loves to dance and is always the last one to leave a party.

She always brings her binoculars and knows everything about flora and fauna.

We had the pleasure of getting to know Terry, who is Maggan’s best friend. He has been a wool-classer and a seaman in the past, and is such a lovely, friendly, generous and helpful person. When we were leaving he drove us all the way up to the ferry, which is several hours away.

We visited former clients of my aunt that had a sheep-cheese farm! Tasmania has changed so much since I last visited, it has become very trendy and a bit of a foodie heaven. People on the mainland seemed impressed when we said we were going for some reason, 14 years ago the majority laughed and said that “Tassie’s” inhabitants were stupid and generally two-headed. No hydras in sight though.

There are wallabies everywhere in Tasmania.

I found some wallaby skulls in my aunt’s garden and here I am seriously trying to figure out how to sneak them through customs. Unfortunately, I chickened out. What a shame on such splendid skulls!

And they have penguins! Little penguins, literally and by name. They are sometimes referred to as fairy penguins, which sounds very Disney. There is actually a very cute true story about a dog called Oddball that saved a colony of penguins from a pack of foxes. The story has even turned into a saccharine movie, you can check out the trailer here.

One of my favourite things about Tasmania is that they have tree ferns pretty much everywhere. I absolutely love tree ferns, they are one of my favourite plants. I can fully relate to the pteridomania (or fern fever) of Victorian times.

I love how pre-historic their unfurling fronds look. They are sometimes called monkey paws, croziers or fiddleheads, which makes them even cuter. They certainly are pre-historic, most ferns go back to the Cretaceous period, some even to the Devonian period. I have had a fascination with them for as long as I can remember, probably because I had a dinosaur book, illustrated by Zdenêc Burian, that was filled with tree ferns.

We stayed with my aunt for nearly two weeks, and then went back to Melbourne by ferry, going slightly north for the first time in several months.

A couple of years ago we saw a beautiful moon-themed exhibition in London, which was accompanied by the Moonlight Sonata. Ever since, I have had a cerebral soundtrack (only the first melancholic part) when looking at the moon.

Beethoven and this magical moon accompanied and perfected our night train experience, and we woke up the next morning in…

…Melbourne. Where there are lots and lots of filigree ornamented buildings, I love the rusty faded beauty of these especially, with the surf board providing the icing on the cake.

They resemble exquisite patisseries, and Moorish architecture, which paradoxically made us think of Europe. This made us homesick for the first time in five months. Melbourne has a very European feel to it, the fabulous restaurants reminded me of London.

As did the bookshops…

…and the well curated museums.

There was also a slice of Russia…

…and the former Soviet Union, which always makes me nostalgic. I’m not sure why, since I certainly don’t romanticise communism, but there is something bittersweet about bygone eras. I do, however, romanticise Europe immensely, no matter how much I love the rest of the world I could never live anywhere outside Europe permanently.

Back to Australia, which this rain soaked koala perfectly symbolises. Feeling very sorry for him/herself, patiently waiting for better times, maybe dreaming of the bygone era of pre-deforestation? We saw him/her (you need to see the chest in order to tell the sex) in the wild on a day-trip to the dramatic coastline.

It was raining all day, which was a slight nuisance, but we loved how it intensified and dimmed the colours at the same time.

The weather created a dramatic atmosphere, as did this calligraphic witch hand.

I love this colour palette of green, blue, white and sand. It is similar to the sandstone cliffs in Algarve, Portugal. And so, I’ve drifted away back to Europe again. We will, however, continue south before turning back to the west.