5 nights...
I once got a message from a friend of mine who was in the UK entitled - 5 nights in the life of Mark (but it was all in capitals, for he seems to have a phobia of the shift button, so as soon as a letter should be in caps, the rest of the whole message is also in caps..LOVE YA MARK!
anyhoo..this is five nights in the life of Tim.
After leaving Amsterdam, with a much better opinion of the place than the last time I was here, I jumped on an overnight bus up to Copenhagen (much to my confusion at one point, awaking on a ferry - which I wrote about briefly in my blog). Copenhagen, or Kopenhavn is a seriously expensive town, so got me little backside out of there right quick.
At the train station I was looking for a way up north to a wwoofing farm at the tip of Denmark, but with a sense of uncertainty about this destination, even while in the process of looking at ticket prices, I was open to suggestion. When I jumped on my email and saw contact details for a friend of a friend in Sweden I figured 'why not?'.
So two hours later I was in Sweden. How easy it is to travel between countries over here!
Sitting in Helsingborg after the ferry, I knew I couldn't go straight to this place, as I had only just dropped them a line, in the mean time...I sat.
I sat and waited, for what I did not know. I wanted to get to a camp site 10km south, but how? I continued to sit, for it is what I felt I should have been doing. My answer will come, which it did. within about half an hour, doubt started to set in about my sitting, until a bus drove by with Räa, my destination plastered on the front and #1 was my bus. There it was.
On the bus I met my first Swede, a man with a glint in his eye of happiness. Pure happiness for his job, his life and himself. He was the most encouraging bus driver with an enthused Hi Hi! to everyone who entered, not the 'hmmph' you would normally recieve in the big cities I know of. A good sign I felt. He was doubtful that I should be camping in winter, in Sweden, I wasn't. Until I found the campsite situated on a beautiful beach front on the west coast, with a fresh northerly wind blowing and closed. Why? I thought, wouldn't anyone want to enjoy this? That night was spent in a deluxe hostel with two guests - I was beginning to get the idea that there is no tourist industry in January in Sweden. What a sleep! With the double bed all myself, I opted for the floor - my back cant take beds anymore..
The next day dawned and I had no idea where I was meant to be going. So I searched for the nearest place to pitch my tent. Söradesäns National Park sprang to my attention.
At 4pm, light dwindling, I stood at the entrance, a train and a bus later, no longer with my rucksack, as I traded it for a duffle bag to throw an different element into the way I would travel, I looked at the many tones of light brown which would slowly become one tone of black in front of me and started walking.
About half an hour in figured anywhere which si flat, everywhere was wet. I spotted my site - across the other side of the three brach river at my side. With no time I had to find a place to cross. Two bags, three crossings, which would equate to nine little dips. Shoes off, in. and wow! A river crossing up to my waist - January - Sweden. With my tent pitched and my legs thawed I realxed and meditated.
Two nights spent pitched here I was meandering through the lush forests, greenery abundant on the mossy rocks and the autumn browen not yet left, and I stumbled across a warm candle glowing in the dense wet world. A hut in the middle of nowhere with a sign translated into english saying 'Stay for free, keep it clean'.
I am writing this - transcribing from my notebook - sitting in front of a strong but small fire, by candlelight, in my own lodging - shadows dancing on the walls surrounded by nothing but the welcoming sway and roar of the wind through the neighbouring trees, with the knowledge that I can stay here through the whole winter until my time to return to Belgium on the 10th March arrives.
So I shall .... await the snow and enjoy the peace, for I know that no-one else will arrive to share this little golden ray of sunshine with me. But if someone does, I will welcome them as much as I felt welcomed.
A shop is two hours walk away, food is not a problem. You can live for a long time on soup, bread, lemon water and my little combustable cooker. And the Bibliotek, which I am seated now, amongst the company of many primary school kids who are continually coming and asking me what I am doing, with the only reply I can give them being a smile and hand signals, they stand there staring as confused as me. There seems to be no issue of age difference in communication when neither of you speak the same language, good times!
So back to my little paradise and I will write again at some stage..
Be Happy
Much Metta
tim out
anyhoo..this is five nights in the life of Tim.
After leaving Amsterdam, with a much better opinion of the place than the last time I was here, I jumped on an overnight bus up to Copenhagen (much to my confusion at one point, awaking on a ferry - which I wrote about briefly in my blog). Copenhagen, or Kopenhavn is a seriously expensive town, so got me little backside out of there right quick.
At the train station I was looking for a way up north to a wwoofing farm at the tip of Denmark, but with a sense of uncertainty about this destination, even while in the process of looking at ticket prices, I was open to suggestion. When I jumped on my email and saw contact details for a friend of a friend in Sweden I figured 'why not?'.
So two hours later I was in Sweden. How easy it is to travel between countries over here!
Sitting in Helsingborg after the ferry, I knew I couldn't go straight to this place, as I had only just dropped them a line, in the mean time...I sat.
I sat and waited, for what I did not know. I wanted to get to a camp site 10km south, but how? I continued to sit, for it is what I felt I should have been doing. My answer will come, which it did. within about half an hour, doubt started to set in about my sitting, until a bus drove by with Räa, my destination plastered on the front and #1 was my bus. There it was.
On the bus I met my first Swede, a man with a glint in his eye of happiness. Pure happiness for his job, his life and himself. He was the most encouraging bus driver with an enthused Hi Hi! to everyone who entered, not the 'hmmph' you would normally recieve in the big cities I know of. A good sign I felt. He was doubtful that I should be camping in winter, in Sweden, I wasn't. Until I found the campsite situated on a beautiful beach front on the west coast, with a fresh northerly wind blowing and closed. Why? I thought, wouldn't anyone want to enjoy this? That night was spent in a deluxe hostel with two guests - I was beginning to get the idea that there is no tourist industry in January in Sweden. What a sleep! With the double bed all myself, I opted for the floor - my back cant take beds anymore..
The next day dawned and I had no idea where I was meant to be going. So I searched for the nearest place to pitch my tent. Söradesäns National Park sprang to my attention.
At 4pm, light dwindling, I stood at the entrance, a train and a bus later, no longer with my rucksack, as I traded it for a duffle bag to throw an different element into the way I would travel, I looked at the many tones of light brown which would slowly become one tone of black in front of me and started walking.
About half an hour in figured anywhere which si flat, everywhere was wet. I spotted my site - across the other side of the three brach river at my side. With no time I had to find a place to cross. Two bags, three crossings, which would equate to nine little dips. Shoes off, in. and wow! A river crossing up to my waist - January - Sweden. With my tent pitched and my legs thawed I realxed and meditated.
Two nights spent pitched here I was meandering through the lush forests, greenery abundant on the mossy rocks and the autumn browen not yet left, and I stumbled across a warm candle glowing in the dense wet world. A hut in the middle of nowhere with a sign translated into english saying 'Stay for free, keep it clean'.
I am writing this - transcribing from my notebook - sitting in front of a strong but small fire, by candlelight, in my own lodging - shadows dancing on the walls surrounded by nothing but the welcoming sway and roar of the wind through the neighbouring trees, with the knowledge that I can stay here through the whole winter until my time to return to Belgium on the 10th March arrives.
So I shall .... await the snow and enjoy the peace, for I know that no-one else will arrive to share this little golden ray of sunshine with me. But if someone does, I will welcome them as much as I felt welcomed.
A shop is two hours walk away, food is not a problem. You can live for a long time on soup, bread, lemon water and my little combustable cooker. And the Bibliotek, which I am seated now, amongst the company of many primary school kids who are continually coming and asking me what I am doing, with the only reply I can give them being a smile and hand signals, they stand there staring as confused as me. There seems to be no issue of age difference in communication when neither of you speak the same language, good times!
So back to my little paradise and I will write again at some stage..
Be Happy
Much Metta
tim out
writes somewhereinscotland at 10:18 am
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