To Cumana, Venezuela, through the jungle

After New York, we flew to Trinidad & Tobago (a remarkably wealthy black former British colony) where we spent one night in a nice hotel. Then we took an almost forgotten passenger boat from the west of Trinidad (Chaguaramas, youll probably find it on the maps) and in three hours it took us to the eastern coastal town of Güira. The customs singled us out to be searched. And after that, during our taxi drive to the town of Carupano, two other military units stopped us and searched me in detail. Three times in total. The culture chock was intense. Trinidad was just warm, but coming to Venezuela threw us in a bizarre Latin American jungle where much seem to remind us of Joseph Conrads "Heart of darkness" or for that Matter, the film "Apocalypse Now". Everything seems so disorganized, and run down. This certainly is the dirty back yard of Western modernity. We had to stay one night in a mediocre hotel in Carúpano, after moving on to Cumana, where we will stay in the Posada San Francisco, Calle Sucre, for two weeks, while looking for a flat or house with kitchen. San Francisco is a very well maintained and beatiful mansion, very safe, reasonably prized and with lovely staff. We can finally relax.
However, amazingly enough, its hard to change dollars. And it will take us some time before we can get telephone working.

New York 04.00 AM

After a long flight via Frankfurt we have now reached New York. We ordered kosher-food on the plane, since its a simple way of getting your warm meal quicker than everyone else and better than everyone else. We are tired but have to wait another 3 hours before takeoff to Trinidad and Tobago. We are all in a decent mood in spite of being tired. By the way, its my birthday. Thanks Hasse for remembering.

Police hit in the Stockholm streets

During our last night in Stockholm, from our window, we witnessed a police crackdown, true Hollywood-style. A white van was stopped by two police cars, the police pulled guns and forced a man and a woman to step out, hands in the air. Dogs were called in and after half an hour of interrogation, the van was towed away. Drugs? Probably.

Not exactly Tarantino, but still, whooo, eh?

Preparing for take off

The car broke down. Again. Conveniently, it did so at the same time our sailing club informed us that the boat has to have a more secure cradle when grounded for winter. Luckily through Blocket.se we found a new cradle sold by a man who, gladly volunteered to help us transport the iron cradle, prepare it for our boat and also oversee the grounding itself. Thanks a heap, Sten. You da man. Things are in place now. And we have spent most of the week meeting friends and relatives.
And today I and my friend Kristoffer (on the picture) prepared the boat for winter. The photos above shows Penina before preparation and after, and Kristoffer, proudly standing on deck. Lets see how proud he is after the autumn winds has whipped and torn the neat package into pieces by mid-October. On top an image from Abukars flat, where we have lived for a couple of days now. Essingeleden by night. Downtown Hornsberg.

Stockholm revisited

We are back in Stockholm. In ten days we are off to Trinidad & Tobago, where we will spend a night before leaving by boat for Venezuela. By returning to Stockholm we have passed the second of three parts of our parental leave. During the first, we moved on water, the second on roads, and during the third, by plane. The first two nights in Stockholm, we have stayed in Visattra, Flemingsberg, in Emilys sister Belinda and her husband, Jean-Maries flat. Its far to cold to sleep in the boat, and we managed to take off the mast of the boat in the rain during the week-end.

Autumn winds in österlen

We left Malmö on Friday, but before going to Stockholm we drove Dani Birgitta to her boyfriend Ingemar. That gave us the opportunity of making our way through österlen, the south-eastern part of the province of Skane, and this in the time of year when the fields are ripe with apples. We passed the cliffs of Kaseberga, the coast south of Simrishamn, Kivik and then to the fairy tale hills of Brosarp, beyond which Ingmar lives in a small house, facing the northern hills. Unfortunately, Ingmar has not been well, and will undergo an operation Monday. However, he is in no way feeble, and in his characteristic manor, after some convincing, he proudly read us an ode to life that he wrote some time ago. His father was a famous Swedish poet during the early part of the 20th century, and, with appropriate symbolism one can conclude that the apple doesn' t fall far from the tree.

Touchdown in Limhamn

It took us 10 hours to drive up to Sweden. The bridge from Denmark reaches Swedish land at Lernacken, a limestone beachhead by Öresund around a kilometer from the block where I grew up. Hence, the fondness of the return to native toil from European mainland is for me, remarkably striking and emotional. We have now again settled in the house of "Dani", grandma Birgitta, living close to Ribban, the Malmö coast. I walk in the drizzle in the Malmö streets looking at the wrinkled, bearded, and chubby faces I meet, realizing that behind these frayed human remnants old class-mates and childhood friends could be hidden.
Discoveries of that kind is always slightly shocking. However the town of Malmö is strikingly clean, modern and much better kept than during my upbringing. Its a remarkable feat, that most likely should be credited to Mr Reepaalu, the social democratic head of the city council. We will continue to Stockholm this week-end. By the way, it is now possible to comment the blog without registering. Sorry for not fixing that until now.

Frankfurt am Main

Sven and Corinne took their Saturday to show us land of a thousand fat Deutsch Marks. Luckily we happened to step right into a regional apple festival, so i got a glass of Apfelwein, so I was somewhat woozy as early as 1 pm. We took the lift to the top floor of the Halaba bank, had a drink in the bar and admired the view.

Arriving in Anspach

We have left Switzerland. One of the best things with Geneve was that everything is so expensive that you dont really feel an urge to buy things. Bargain-hunting in Switzerland seems fruitless. So you save money that way. After leaving Geneva we drove up to Frankfurt in seen hours where we visited Corinne, Sven and their daughter Jane, who invited us to an excellent dinner and a tremendously soft bed to sleep in. Anspach, where they live, is a village halv an hour north of Frankfurt, where Sven works as a IT-manager in a hotel chain. Thanks to googlemaps we found our way very easy. We decided to stay another night and then proceed to Sweden tomorrow Sunday. Corinne and Sven rent a house built in 1826, charming and full of odd angles. However the couple isn' t impressed by the Germans regarding their reputation for punctuality, order and organisation.

Montreux

Montreux. The Swiss riviera. I do have a soft spot for towns by the sea climbing up the mountain, and Montreux is no exception. Small streets with odd shops climb up the hills - and around every other corner a spectacular mountain view opens up. The mountains sheltering Montreux offer views that are absolutely gobsmacking. Makes me want to yodel. We had lunch at an restaurant with a small patio specializing in Swiss-arabian food(!), during which we discussed the value of paying, say 500 Euro, for a Prada bag, which I personally find hard to grasp.
During our stroll by the casino and the lake we were suddenly met by hard gushes of wind. Looking up the mountain the rich and famous have built houses on mountain ridges and sometimes even by the cliffs. Aren' t they ever afraid that when they go out for a pee in the garden at night after a few pints they accidentally make a wrong step and fall down the mountain? I would be.

The 2007 Geneva Kitchen Assault

Finally it has sunk in. Emily first came to Italy with the belief that most people in Europe spoke English, or at least, those reasonably educated and young. After all, English is the lingua franca, the worlds universal used language. It took her some days to realize the cold truth: they don´t. And that italians dont give a tinkers cuss if English is considered as a global means of communcation. The same appears to apply to the French. Amongst the international populace of Geneva, English works better, but generally you have to use French to communicate. Anyway, we have settled in well now. Days spent on the playgrounds or small excursions, like today a visit to the cozy French border town of Ferney-Voltaire, where Voltaire the philosopher lived in a marvellous mansion (that we saw today) and from where he initated several progressive local, social projects in the enlightment spirit. I spend evenings with a glass of whisky, a bucket of Nutella and other varieties of the exquisite Swiss chocolates. Furthermore: During the last week we have spent some time renovating the kitchen in the flat, repainting the walls, painting the cupboards and installing shiny new cupboard knobs. We have also installed two kitchen lamps and changed the furnishing, making it more balanced. Thats the north European spirit. I merrily whistled the German national anthem as I painted the walls late at night. I have now also started with the bathroom plumbing. After opening the clogged tubes i found the usual slimy stuff you find in drains, but also three coins, stopping the flow of the water.