An Idiot Broad Abroad

I now have a chance to sit down and write about my last couple of days in Byron, because… it is currently pouring ran.

I have been reminded by a few kind Aussie’s that it is indeed still Spring here so the weather has been a little unpredictable. Well, this is really interrupting my sun intake, Australia.

But I really shouldn’t complain – up until today the weather has been quite good. Rather windy, and it cools down in the evening, but overall very enjoyable.

I have come to the conclusion that Byron Bay is to young Canadians what Whistler is to young Aussies. A good fraction of their economy seems to be fuelled by and facilitated by the work of Canadians. Indeed, this has made me feel quite at home!

I think I have quite effectively adjusted to hippy beach time while here. I went on a few runs in the morning along the beach and up to the light house. I’ve put in a good amount of time vegging by the hostel pool. Of course, the hostel pool is not the most ideal sanctuary of relaxation what with loud obnoxious patrons whipping around sports balls only feet away from your lounge chair. With every bounce your heart races in anticipating of the ball smacking you right in the face. Ahh, serenity now.

Byron is certainly a unique little shire. It’s evident to see that it has developed a lot since it’s hay day, but much of it’s charm and character still lingers – hippies and yogis included.

The streets are lined with hipster cafes, shops and restaurants. I have spent a good deal of time in a few bookstores and certainly taken advantage of a happy hour deal or two. Favourite among them is probably the piña colada and $1.50 oyster deal at Balcony.

In the late afternoons I would occasionally go down to the beach to sit on the rocks and watch the surfers. I didn’t go surfing myself because I have an irrational fear of sharks. I know, ridiculous. Georgia has repeated to me time and time again that they have shark spotting drones and other measures in place, but I knew I just wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. The ocean is a terrifying place! I did go swimming a few times though. (Close enough to shore to evade shark attacks).

This morning I went on a sea kayak with dolphins adventure! It was terrifying at first navigating my little kayak over the surf, but once we were out further and I had the hang of it, it was much more enjoyable. We saw dolphins dipping and diving all around – very cool! Unfortunately, I didn’t get any photos because I didn’t take my phone out with me. I figured even if I had it in a ziplock bag I would still either drop it in the ocean or get it wet somehow.

I splurged a bit and treated myself to a wee early birthday present of a massage at the Buddha Gardens Spa! Delightful. I simply can’t explain it but all my shakras now seem perfectly aligned and I feel in harmony with the moon and the tides. ;P

Yesterday I rented a bike with the hopes of riding out to Brunswick Heads, where Geo and Fraser used to live. Unfortunately the only route to get there was on the motorway, unless I took a massive detour. So I headed out to the motorway and within about one kilometre I decided it was just too sketchy and it certainly wouldn’t be an enjoyable ride.

Instead, I toodled around the smaller roads closer to Byron and I stopped the ‘The Farm’ for lunch. It was so nice to be back on a bike again! However, my butt could tell that it was not MY bike – if you know what I mean.

At The Farm I looked at some animals, ate a fabulous lunch and purchased some matching T-shirts for me, Geo and Leah (if either of you are reading this – just wait for it).

Overall, it’s been a really nice and relaxing couple of days in Byron but I am very excited to return to the arms of my bestie and see her and her parents over the weekend in Palm Beach (Gold Coast).

Surely, spending the weekend with Shirly, Geo and Jack will solicit some serious hilarious updates!

DOB: Dogs of Byron

Hello all.

I am reporting to you live from the patio on the 37th floor of an apartment building in downtown Brissy (what locals call Brisbane).

It is 6:53 am with a mix of sun and cloud.

Georgia is still asleep but my combination jet lag and red wine sweats have woken me at this early hour.

Before Georgia arrived on Friday I only did a little bit of walking around near the Airbnb which is right downtown. The streetscape is very similar to downtown Vancouver, I find.

When I went out for this initial walk something happened that felt quite foreign to me. A bright, warm energy was radiating toward my body from all angles. I realized, I am in Australia and this is the sun.

What I am trying to say is – it’s bloody nice here!

No wonder they are all happy as clams and smile when they walk down the street and chit chat with everyone. They live in perpetual sunshine. Like, sunshine is always shining out of their ass.

Georgia and I spent our first night together in Brisbane going out on the town. For two nearly 30 year olds this meant getting a couple pints of Guinness at a nearby pub and then walking approximately one block to go for dinner. WILD I know!

The next day was taken at a luxurious pace and we spent quite a while lounging around. I think I was due for quite a sleep-in as the jet lag caught up with me and I also am getting over a bit of a head cold.

Later in the day we walked to the Botanic Gardens and along the water. We crossed the bridge over to South Brisbane and then looped back. We saw QUT (Queensland University of Technology) Gardens campus. We saw the old Parliament building. Twas’ a lovely mosey about the city.

I wasn’t too bothered about trying to pack it all in this weekend because I am planning to return for a few days later in my trip, where I will be staying in the vibrant South Brisbane area!

Today, Geo and I are going to drive back to her and Fraser’s place in Gold Coast, possibly stopping to do a wee bit of shopping on the way. Later I am told we are going to her friend’s place for a party to watch some rugby!

Tomorrow I am going to head down to Byron Bay for about 5 days (Geo will stay home as she has to work). I am looking forward to some serious beach and ocean activities!!

WLOTD: Water lizard of the day

I have schlumped myself into the couch, unbuttoned my pants and removed my wrist watch, which means I am settling in for an epic blog update.

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. Since I last posted I finished travelling around the Scottish Isles with Zoë and Nicole, I returned to London, secured a place to live and found a job! Rather eventful indeed! Read on for the full recap.

A wee recap o’ Scotland

Whenever I think of Scotland I think of a game I once played with Tom and several of our flatmates in Delft – Head’s Up. You have to get the person holding up a word, hidden to them, to guess the word by shouting out hints. In one case, the word that I had to guess was ‘Scotland,’ and Tom just yelled – in a horribly butchered Scottish accent – “SCOTLAAAAND.” I may have yelled this out many times during the trip with Zoë and Nicole… who would have had no idea what I was doing.

Anyway, Scotland. 

I believe I left off last time when we were in Fort William. We picked up our rental car with no issue and then left exceedingly early the following day to drive to Ullapool to catch the ferry to Lewis and Harris. 

Having the shortest legs, I was fortunate enough to be relegated to the back seat of the car. This meant I didn’t have to navigate and could, instead, sleep. 

When I woke up all sides of the car were being battered with rain and I was informed by Nicole that our ferry was cancelled due to high winds.

After quite a bit of sweet talking to a ferry worker named Johnny, we ended up with our little red Ford Fiesta at the front of the stand-by line for the next ferry. That was at 9:45 am. Next ferry: 7 pm. 

We spent the day milking our stay in various cafe’s in Ullapool and wandering around shops. Luckily, we made it on to the 7pm ferry, despite it still seeming pretty rough out there. This assessment was confirmed when the ferry was swaying far more than a sane person would be happy with. It was a somewhat stressful ride to say the least… Nicole was feeling a wee bit sea sick but she powered through vom free!

When we arrived on the island we still had to drive for about 45 minutes to our secluded hideaway cottage. The roads became increasingly more narrow, there were no lights, and it was pitch black outside. Stress level midnight ensued. I have to hand it to Zoë she did an excellent job as the only one able to drive the whole trip. 

When we finally got there and parked the car there was one last hurdle: cross a footbridge with our mountains of luggage in the blackness with the wind and rain lashing at us from all sides, and the waves thundering underneath. 

Of course, on the other side, we couldn’t find the key to the cottage. The instructions left were that the keys were “on the exterior of the property.” Could they be more vague?! Eventually we found them using our phone flashlights and stamping around the violent wind… it was quite spooky.

Waking up was a treat, it was a bright day and the view was marvellous. The water under the footbridge was calm. 

Lewis and Harris then Isle of Skye

I shall walk you through some of the amazing sights of Lewis and Harris as well as Skye that we happened upon via photo:

So, there you have it. A highly successful and enjoyable two weeks in Scotland with two awesome people! We only suffered one flat tire, one severely delayed ferry and an infinite amount of marital-like disputes all instigated due to tone of voice. Ahhhh TRAVELING!

You sound like you’re from LANDAAAN

I returned to London about a week and a half ago with only a few minor tasks on my plate: find a place to live, find a job, not get hit by a big red bus. 

Finding a place to live

It was a whirlwind of calls and viewings and hob-knobbing with estate agents last week. To make matters worse, the future flatmate Tom, was out of town for a good chunk of the house hunt. I have told him that he owes me a finders fee. 

We ended up with a great 2 bed flat near Sheperd’s Bush tube station in the Kensington Olympia neighbourhood! Very excited to move in. Less excited that Tom will be moving in before me – as we get possession on the 23rd of October and I will not be moving in until November. Lord knows the damage he will induce before I have even spent one night in my lovely London flat!

Finding a job

I began applying for jobs before I arrived in London so I would hopefully have some interviews lined up. It worked! I had a few interviews last week and I am happy to report that I have landed a really exciting job as an engineer with Sustrans. Sustrans is a non-profit* working in sustainable transportation. They make it easier for people to walk and cycle with the goal of creating healthier and happier cities! Right up my alley, indeed!

Writing a short paragraph about getting a job really doesn’t do the process justice – it was stressful as hell – but I am very happy it has worked out!

*To clarify, the organization is non-profit, but I will, indeed, be getting paid. My father has not failed to remind me that I am now “off the payroll.”

Not getting hit by a bus

I had one borderline close call. Still getting used to drivers on the WRONG side of the road.

My main policy now is to look both ways at least five times and not to cross until the green man says so.

Finally a bit of time to be a tourist in London

Most of my tourist attractions tend to be food and drink establishments – so pardon me for the lack of quintessential London sights here.

Highlights have included: Bagel with salt meat at Biegel Bake with Zoë, Motzo Ball Soup at Zobler’s, a pint at Ye Old Cheshire Cheese, a wee dram of whiskey at the Troubodour with Nicole, and a night out beginning at the Chem Eng phD staff room featuring Tom, Nikki and others along with free beverages…

In summary and in conclusion

I am ramping up again to be a better blogger i.e. influencer* (and altogether better human being) as I am setting off for my last big travel adventure this year: AUSTRALIA, baby!

On Wednesday I am taking an exceedingly long flight to Hong Kong, deplaning and then boarding a different plane to then take a second exceedingly long flight to Brisbane**. 

Best friend Georgia shall be meeting me in Brisbane on Friday. Stay tuned for Idiot broad happenings from DOWN UNDA’!!

*this is a joke.

**this blog was written prior to the date of posting. I am actually in Brisbane already!

DOGZZZZZZZ

It has been far too long since my last post… yet again. I apologize to my millions of fans and followers. The fact of the matter is I have simply been busy having way too much fun in Scotland.

I am no longer alone though, I am in the wonderful company of Zoë and Nicole – and our idiocy continues to reach new bounds. Well, really, my idiocy. For their comedic relief.

We spent a few days in Edinburgh to start off our Scotland tour. Unfortunately, Nicole was quite under the weather and stayed in bed most of the time. Zoë and I rambled around town trying to pack it all in.

DOE: Dog of Edinburgh

We saw the Castle, tested far too many Scottish beers and whiskeys, and tasted lots of yummy food. The day before leaving Edinburgh Zoë was quite sure she had acquired the same plague-like disease as Nicole. This was confirmed to her waking up with her head feeling like it was in a fishbowl the next morning.

And then there was one…

We loaded ourselves up and headed for the train station to get us from Edinburgh to Crianlarich.

Our bed and breakfast in Crianlarich had two rooms: one with two single beds (dubbed the “quarantine room”) and one with a double. I slept marvellously in peace and solitude hoping I wouldn’t wake up with whatever the other two had. Next door, Zoë and Nicole wheezed and hacked into fitful sleeps. The next day we were set to hike for 26 km…

Day 1: Crianlarich to Inverarnan

The majority of the day was precipitation free – which is something we were obviously hoping for – but not at all expecting. The trail started with a short and challenging climb but then flattened out for the rest of the day.

We made it relatively unscathed after our first day. Moments before we walked into the Inverarnan Hotel the skies opened up and it began to lash down with rain.

Spirits were high once we had showered and prepared our bodies to head down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. First though, Nicole assembled her mobile pharmacy / naturopathic remedies for me to document. She is all-world in the amount of salves, creams, balms, lotions and tablets she has ingested over the course of her illness. I think she has single-handedly kept the Health store near our Edinburgh Airbnb in business.

Dinner unfolded much like a Fawlty Towers episode.

We pre-ordered our meals as specified by the hotel management upon checking in – as it was busy and they didn’t want their kitchen overloaded.

Immediately once we sat down for dinner a young ‘Manuel’-like waiter was hovering around our table and taking our orders. He came back instantly with our drinks and proceeded to throw them down on the table with a curt, “there it is.”

Our appetizers materialized just as quickly and in just an abrupt manner. We laughed a little and enjoyed our drinks and appies.

Then… the waiting began.

Around us the little dining room was abuzz with action. The waiter ran around serving tables with militant efficiency. We waited some more.

Nicole hadn’t ordered an appetizer and was bordering dangerously between hangry and murderous. I was two pints in after walking nearly 30 km and having only had some salad. I thought I would try to order the table some bread while we continued to wait.

The result was disastrous. Had I known the wrench I would be throwing in Manuel’s plan, I would never had done it.

In any case, I did ask and the following occurred. He was unsure what exactly I meant by bread, first of all. I sort of motioned at the centre of the table and kept saying bread and butter. Once he sorted that, he asked if we wanted it after our main course. No, no – not after our main course. Slightly underestimating the small size of the dining room, the close proximity of our fellow diners, and the volume of my voice, I loudly said “right now.”

Now, in my defence – I did not intend for this to be rude or aggressive in any way. Rather, it was more of sarcastic exasperation that he didn’t understand what time a bread basket should be delivered. As Manuel walked away with his orders Zoë and Nicole absolutely lambasted me and said that the whole table across the room was watching this all unfold.

We continued to wait.

Our main courses arrived.

Then, the bread came.

I demanded that we had to eat all the bread after what I had done. We crammed all the bread into our mouths.

After dinner we ordered some whiskies to sip on in the lounge next to the dining room. I won’t even go into the challenge of asking Manuel for a drink in one room to then consume in another room.

When we walked into the lounge, a couple parties from dinner were also there enjoying drinks. After only a minute of conversation I was called out for my bread basket incident with much laughter and mocking. I will forever be reminded of the Inverarnan bread incident.

DOTD

Day 2: Inverarnan to Kinlochleven

Day 2 was a day indeed. 33 km of walking is a shit ton of walking.

Not to mention is was absolutely tippin’ it when we left. We had about 12 km to cross an openly exposed glen. The wind was ripping through the valley and the rain was hitting us sideways from the left. At least our right sides stayed dry!

When we arrived at our hotel and found that our room was at the top of a steep set of stairs, the final climb was the real Devil’s staircase.

DOTDIJ: Dogs of the Day in Jackets

Day 3: Kinlochleven to Fort William

Spirits were not so high come day three. We were tired, our feet and bodies ached, Zoë was quite run down and Nicole was hacking and hocking like a pro. It was pretty disgustingly nerve wracking being the only healthy individual in this mix.

The rain lashed down as we set out into the forest for the last day of our West Highland Way adventure.

The first leg of the trail was under thick canopy so we weren’t exposed to much wet and cold. However, once we emerged from the climb and were traversing along a sidewall of a valley we were subjected utterly to the elements.

Zoë, in her genius, decided to wait until her leggings were soaked through to put on her rain pants.

DOTDIAP: Dog of the day in a pub

Next steps…

Waking up today in time for full Scottish breakfast at our Fort William B&B was a challenge. However, we picked ourselves up by our bootstraps and carried our shell-like selves down to breakfast.

I had to stay in town today to do some work while Zoë and Nicole collected our rental car and drove to Loch Ness. I wasn’t too jealous having to miss out because I have been to Loch Ness before.

My only concern for the remainder of the trip is that Zoë is the only one of us who knows how to drive standard – however, she hasn’t done so in years. I fell asleep last night to the sound of her watching “How To” videos of driving standard in the UK.

If we live through it, tomorrow we will be taking the ferry from Ullapool to Stornaway on Lewis and Harris.

Boy oh boy I seem to have left the ol’ blog a bit lonely lately and for that I apologize. Rest assured, I am alive and I am, indeed, still an Idiot Broad Abroad.

I have been embroiled in life and death, state of emergency, high-profile, international peace keeping and development exploits.

And by this I mean I have been busy having way too much fun in Europe… whoops.

I’ll give an update of what I have been up to since my last post!

Stockholm World Water Week Conference

I spent 8 days in Stockholm and worked as an Assistant for World Water Week.

Working as an Assistant involved standing around in a little blue vest inside of a dark and stuffy sporting arena and smiling for half the day and then removing said vest and getting to frolic about the conference for free! Also included was free food, drink, and many social events.

It was an inspiring and fun week where I met other young professionals and students from all over the world!

Return of the Human Sized Box…

The last hurdle from shifting entirely to completion of my solo cycling trip was to transport my bike (inside human sized box) from Stockholm to London – to then take to Grimsby to store in Tom’s garage.

The challenge of carrying human sized box increased on this leg of its journey, because I added about half of my luggage into the box along with some bubble wrap to pad the bike.

I set out from my hostel early last Saturday and alternated between carrying, pausing to rest, and dragging human sized box to the station.

Luckily, central station was not too far and I made it relatively unscathed. And there was no trouble getting on the airport express with human sized box!

Again, no trouble checking in at the airport as I had registered my bike as special baggage. I dropped it off at the designated spot and crossed my fingers that it would be in Heathrow when I arrived.

Fast forward to Heathrow…

I followed the indications to the special baggage pickup area. I saw a similar human sized box, but not mine, and knew I must be in the right spot. I waited. And I waited. And I waited some more.

Eventually I asked someone to check things out. According to their system my baggage had come out at Conveyer 3, even though that made no sense since it was too large to fit through the door. Anyways, according to the computer it was there. I walked to the other side of the baggage area.

No human sized box. Surprise, surprise.

I walked to the lost baggage counter and was confronted with the scene below.

This poor mother at the counter had been waiting for baggage off the same flight as me – two car seats – and her children were going absolutely mental. I wish I had gotten a picture of their little chocolate streaked, strung-out faces. They were like hyenas on crack cocaine. I simultaneously felt horrible for the women and could not contain internal laughter.

Anyway, I couldn’t handle waiting in this mess so I decided to head back top the special baggage area just to double check and lo-and-behold I saw my big beautiful beaten human sized box!

I threw it on a trolley and got the hell out of there.

Tom came to pick me up and we spent a fair deal of time debating whether or not to unpack human sized box or try to fit it inside his car.

Please, no jokes about Tom’s Micra – he has a complex about it’s size.

I went to Grimsby and I live to tell my story

Tom’s hometown is Grimsby. It is perhaps not the most posh of places in the English countryside. I have heard endless stories from Tom and it was finally my time to put everything into context with a visit myself!

We arrived on Saturday evening and immediately went to the Chippy. We had fish and chips the size of a small infant for dinner.

On Sunday I untaped human sized box and it’s contents exploded out onto the floor of Tom’s garage. I reassembled my bike and we went for a ride around town and through a nearby natural park. Unfortunately, I forgot to turn on my GPS or Strava.

To give a sense of the rough side of Grimsby, Tom insisted that we did not wear our helmets as we rode our bikes out of town. The probability of being heckled, threatened or “taken off your bike,” was high if we had our helmets done up with our nice road bikes.

I couldn’t decide which would be worse at that moment: being mugged at knife point on my bike by a Grimsby thug or getting a brain injury.

In the end, we carefully rode out of town with our helmets hanging off our handlebars until we could put them on in the safe zone. This didn’t stop a group of lads yelling at us from their car window when we were stopped at a light.

A Tom portion of Sunday Tea.

They call the three meals of the day: Breakfast, Dinner, and Tea. Crazy, I know.

A reunion in London!

I took the train into London early on Monday morning to meet Zoë who is in town for a wedding and then for our hiking trip in Scotland!

It was so much fun to spend a day and a half running around London with Zo and eating and drinking all the good things (thanks to Zoë’s skilled research and none of my own).

The best night ever

I bought tickets months ago for an event that I attended last night in London: Ricky Gervais and Richard Dawkins in Conversation!

Ricky received the 2019 Dawkins Award.

I got The Selfish Gene signed by Dawkins after the show.

It was an inspiring, enlightening, hilarious, and highly enjoyable evening! There was conversation about making science accessible and open to all people. Through his Foundation, Dawkins has translated his work into countless languages and made it freely accessible – including in the 13 countries where being an atheist is punishable by death.

Mind the Gap

I am in London for another two days and then I head up to Edinburgh to reconvene with Zo and Nicole where we will begin our grand adventure in Scotland!

I will try to be more active with the updates. There is surely going to be a lot of idiotic things happening with the three of us traipsing through the Scottish highlands.

DOTD

Spotted: a Winnie in London!

Today’s mission was to transport myself, my bicycle, and my bags from Copenhagen to Stockholm.

I ended up staying in Copenhagen for an extended length of time for a few reasons. First, I had hoped to do the short Iron Man on the 16^th of August, so I got myself to Copenhagen in time for that. In the end I was feeling too run down with a cold and was still pretty tender from my fall a few days earlier, so I couldn’t race. Oh well, I guess I would just have to enjoy Copenhagen without excessive exertion… I could handle that.

Then I did some research into things to do and found that the Louisiana Literature Festival was being held at the prestigious Louisiana Museum of Modern Art near Copenhagen. Two authors of books I had just read (Roxane Gay, Rachel Cusk) were going to be at the Festival and I really wanted to check it out, as well as the museum. The problem was that didn’t start until the 21^st, leaving me quite a bit of time to dawdle in CPH.

I thought I would try to do more day trips and such, but in the end I didn’t do much. I mostly explored Copenhagen. It was a nice change from having to wake early and cycle all day every day – not that that wasn’t lovely too, in it’s own way.

Anyways, back to the task at hand: getting from Copenhagen to Stockholm. I needed to be in Stockholm tonight as I am working as an assistant at the Stockholm International Water Institute’s World Water Week Conference. It’s gonna be so wet!

Even though I had a full week in Copenhagen to look into transporting myself to Stockholm (a solid 650 km away), of course, I didn’t check anything at all until 8 pm the night before.

I found that the Swedish, despite being a land of bicycle riders, seem to be very restrictive about letting bikes on their trains.

It actually ended up looking like I would have to abandon all hope of taking my bike with me to Stockholm and would instead have to get it shipped from Copenhagen to London (where I will be moving at the end of all this).

So, with this set as my plan I set off in the morning after checking out from my hostel and began what came to be the epic day that was today.

I think the best way to communicate the events is via timeline:

---

9:27

I was riding to the bike shop that opened at 9:30 am. In the direction I was travelling I saw a big sign that said: “coffee first.” I couldn’t agree more and made a b-line to that coffee shop. I chugged a cappuccino and prepared to do battle.

9:31

I went to bike shop number 1. I was told they don’t ship bikes but they do sell big cardboard boxes that bicycles are packed in when they get shipped. Then I was recommended to go to DHL or a similar shipping company.

9:50

Onto the DHL shop I went. DHL guy said it was possible to ship my bike to the UK, but I had to have it all packaged before bringing it to them to ship. On top of that it was very pricey. He quoted me nearly 500 euros. Not. Happening.

10:10

Next, I felt like it was perhaps worth going to speak to the ticket office in the Central station. I waited in the cue and grew more and more stressed as time ticked on.

When I spoke to the friendly assistant with a smile pasted to his face, and probably to his ass, he told me that it was essentially impossible to take bikes on trains in Sweden. What about the local trains, I asked. Perhaps, he said. Your best bet is to take the train to Malmö (which allows bikes since it is via Danish train line) and then talk to the office there.

I purchased a ticket to Malmö. I panicked a bit more when I couldn’t see any listing on the departure board for Malmö. This is because they only list the final destination – farther than Malmö – and I have no concept of Swedish geography.

10:47

I eventually sorted out that the train heading for Gothenburg was stopping in Malmö. I joined the ever increasing crowd waiting on the platform for the train that was running late.

When the train pulled in and people starting piling on, it was absolutely packed. I ran to the bike carriage and saw that people and bikes and carriages and babies were oozing out of every nook and cranny.

I ran further down and saw a slight gap in an entry way that was certainly not a bike carriage. I looked at the people inside and nodded at my bike and then up to the carriage. They seemed okay with me trying to jam in, so I did. Peanut butter and JAM.

10:56

Two stops later I was forced to get off the train to let others off and then more people got on and it was impossible for me to get back on.

I ran down the platform to the bike carriage. The scene was even more desperate there.

I implored the train inspector to let me on. She said it was impossible. I asked how I was going to get to Malmö and she just said this is the train to Malmö. YEA I KNOW WOMAN. I mean, after this one – that I am clearly not getting on – how will I ever get there?!

Oh, there will be another train in a few minutes.

Oh, okay.

A few minutes later, a train pulled up nearly empty. I strolled on with my bike and rode on toward Malmo.

11:30

I explained my situation to a security guard in Malmö Central and he sent me to the Local train ticket office.

11:32

I took a number and waited at the Local train ticket office.

11:34

I got to speak to an agent at the Local train ticket office.

11:35

Agent at local train ticket office told me to go inquire at the National train ticket office. Aka- the high speed trains that I knew for a fact do not let assembled bicycles on board.

11:37

I spoke with an agent at the National train ticket office. She was more helpful. She did seem concerned about my ultimate goal. There are certain dimensions of bag you have to have your folded bike in. Even if you do have you bike folded in a bag of the correct dimensions, there is no guarantee it will fit because it depends if there is space. My best bet would be to try getting on wagon 7 if I did.

Oh, I would try.

11:40

Riding my bike like a maniac to the nearest bicycle shop in Malmö to try to get it disassembled and put inside a bag.

11:45

I reached the first bike shop, which turned out to be a hipster bike café and shop. It did have a little repair shop in the back and I spoke to them about my situation.

They couldn’t do it that day – were completely booked up. They did recommend another bike shop near that may be able to.

11:56

I rode on to the next bike shop that, luckily, was just opening at noon.

12:00

I had struck gold! It was a calm and helpful store. The guy there looked for his smallest bike box, helped me take the wheels off, pannier rack off, seat off, twist the handlebars in line with the frame, etc. etc. We jammed the bike and all it’s accoutrement into the box.

He taped it up.

I paid a small fee for this life-saving service.

How the hell was I going to carry this?

This was a cardboard box the size of a human body. Dimensions: 140 x 85 x 50 cm. Good god.

12:25

I waddled out of the store with my pannier bags slung over my shoulder and carrying the human sized box. Bike shop guy recommended I take the bus back to the Central station. The bus stop was around the corner and couldn’t have been more than 2- to 300 meters.

The first 100 or so meters I was feeling alright with my new package. The bike itself is not heavy. It was the extreme awkwardness of the package it was in. The way the handle holds were placed it was very uncomfortable.

12:30

I made it to the bus stop. Setting the massive human sized box down, an old Swedish woman began talking to me and gesticulating at human sized box.

I told her I didn’t speak Swedish, only English. She said her too…

Turns out she had lived in New York for 40 years. Anyways, she was very… interesting.

12:33

Guy from bicycle store comes ripping around the corner on his bike and stops beside me. He held out his hand and lying there in his palm were my pedals. Phew! I slipped them into the human sized box through the handle holes.

12:36

Bus arrived. I got on through the middle door as suggested by the bike guy.

I will admit I did not pay for the bus. No one inquired about my ticket and I didn’t get checked.

Phew, again.

12:53

I got off the bus at Central Station. Hauled myself, my bags and human sized box into the station. I can’t even begin to express the emotions flowing through me at this time. I was nervous, slightly panicked, teetering on the edge of hangry, but 100% resolved I was making it on the train.

12:55

I walked up to the same agent as before at the National train ticket office. I pointed to the human sized box and said that my bike was now in a box that was within the required dimensions. She eyed the box suspiciously.

She said, again, that it depended on the service agents on the platform and how busy the train was.

In terms of a ticket, she said I could buy one, but it was quite expensive and if I didn’t get on it would be wasted.

Little did she know, I had already purchased a ticket online the night before. This was once I had resolved that I would ship my bike from Copenhagen in the morning before taking the high speed train from Copenhagen to Stockholm. I explained this and, miraculously, the same train that I had a ticket for was coming through Malmö at 14:10.

I inquired if there was one sooner, but she said the one at 13:10 was completely booked.

13:03

I decided to go check out the situation on the platform where the 13:10 train was leaving from. I made my way to the other end of the station and took the elevator down. I spoke to an SJ (Swedish National train brand) and explained. He first said that the dimensions of bike bags were listed on the website and to check there. I said I had checked and the box was fine. He said that it should be okay then. I asked about the mythical wagon 7 deal – oh yea, wagon 7 has lots of room.

So it seemed it would work and I would aim for wagon 7.

13:20

I arranged my things in the station hall near a bench and sat in a stupor for a few minutes. I realized I was on the verge of death by starvation. Okay, not quite, but I could’ve used some sustenance.

13:25

I walked to the kiosk to buy a few things. As I was walking back to my bench two security guards were lingering by my human sized box and talking on radios.

I ran over to explain it was mine, just hard to take with me into a shop. They were not pleased and told me not to leave my luggage alone.

Christ, it’s just a human sized box with a human in it. Relax.

13:34

I realized my notebook was full and I really wanted to be able to write while I was on the train. I mean, I had quite a bit of material to get down.

I dragged myself, my panniers, and my human sized box over to the book store (which was maybe 10 m away from where I was sitting) and walked right in. I did set the box down on the periphery of the store, but it didn’t stop the stares and hesitant “can I help you?” from the employee.

13:40

I had acquired a new notebook. I had dragged myself, panniers, and human sized box to the platform. The train was already there. It took me some time to confirm this, since I thought it was coming from Copenhagen. However, it turned out that there was a transfer in Malmö and that this train at Platform 6 was indeed THE train.

The doors were still locked so we couldn’t board yet. There were no SJ employees wandering around that I could talk to about my human sized box situation.

I peered in through the dirtied windows of wagon 7 trying to get a glimpse inside and plan my moves. It honestly didn’t look that spacious. Shit. And this was wagon 7 for god sake!

13:55

Time ticked on and more and more people were flooding the platform to get ready to board. One wheelchair and one stroller hovered around the door to wagon 7. Oh, it’s on. I glanced at them, sizing up the competition.

I should preface this: when I was inquiring the second time with the agent at the National train ticket office, she said boarding with a bike would be dependent on if there were wheelchairs booked.

NOW, I understand that the person in a wheelchair is a PERSON and not a bike in a human sized box – but I desperately hoped that I could get on despite a wheelchair being booked.

13:57

Considered using my Dad’s suggested line if confrontation occurred: “This is my emotional support bike.”

And if they had an issue that my bike was in a box, not a bag, I would use the line from the bike ship guy: “My box identifies as a bag.”

14:00

I noticed people further down the platform are entering the train. People swarmed toward our door, myself included, and someone pushed the button. Pressure released in a hiss and the door slid open.

First, the stroller couple got on. I had whittled myself next in the line, feeling quite bad because there was no service person there to help the wheelchair on.

But, this was a time to be cut throat and to muscle my way on. I had my panniers over both shoulders and hugged the human sized box while lifting it up the steps. I looked around before I pushed it on and may have seen a service person coming toward the door, but I just carried on. I would rather do it and then plead guilty than miss a spot!

On the train there was a great deal of jigging and jagging and jigsaw puzzling, but I got the bike box standing up on its end in a corner where it wasn’t blocking anything and the stroller wedged in next to it. There was plenty of room for the wheelchair once helped on.

I couldn’t believe it.

14:04

I loitered by my human sized box waiting to be told I couldn’t have it on the train.

14:05

Considered whether I should go sit in my assigned seat (which was in the next wagon over) or stay there with human sized box.

14:06

Nervously glancing out the window to monitor the service person standing by the door. I figured if there was an issue, surely it would have been addressed by now.

Or maybe they just hadn’t seen my massive package yet!

14:08

I went to my seat and hoped for the best.

14:10

The whistle blew and we were off to Stockholm.

14:14

Walked back to wagon 7 to check that my human sized box was still there.

14:15

It was!

14:16

Finally, I sat back and relaxed.

Though, I continued to sporadically check on my bike throughout the train ride because we had a few stops and I was nervous someone would just throw it off the train.

18:41

I arrived in Stockholm. I can’t believe I made it.

What’s more is that over the nearly 5 hour duration of the trip, I was not asked to produce my ticket once.

18:43

I am taking a bloody cab to the hostel.

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Over the next week I will be quite busy with the World Water Week Conference, but there is sure to be good material welling up (get it?) here and there, which I will regale readers with.

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P.S.

I have one week to figure out how to get human sized box from Stockholm to London. But, this time, I know to start planning early!

Hi hi.

This is how Danish people say hello and goodbye. I will never tire of watching people happily waving and saying “hi hi,” as they walk away from someone or out of a store.

They may only use one hi when they meet and two when they part – but I am not completely sure. In any case, you can never go wrong with a “hi” here in Copenhagen.

Today I got up early (relatively) at 8:30 am and prepped to go for a bit of a day trip. To be honest, my destination was chosen somewhat at random. I just wanted to go for a longish ride. Helsingør had a cool looking castle and was about 40 km away. So, off I went.

I stopped for breakfast not far out from my hostel. I ordered an Acai bowl without much thought. I have no clue was acai is. What was served to me seemed to be a bowl of fluid the consistency of a raspberry smoothie with some granola and fruit sprinkled on it. Different, but quite tasty.

I carried on my ride in the morning sun. It was enjoyable, mostly flat, and near the water so I had a nice view. The homes got very fancy the further up the coast I rode. I was in the high rent district for sure.

When I was nearly at my destination of Helsingør I noticed a weird sound emitting from my rear. Well, not MY rear, but from somewhere behind me.

I stopped and heard the all too familiar hiss of my back tire going flat.

Can’t even make it through a short day ride without a tire crisis. I again changed the tire expertly, my confidence buoyed from the last experience. I rode the last few kilometres as the Kronborg Castle came into sight.

I took a gander around the castle and then found a street food market for lunch. They had a fish and chips stall and I simply could not resist. The fish was fresh, the batter thick, and the grease more than abundant. I felt the usual post fish and chip bloat, but it was worth it.

Once I emerged from the food market, the weather had taken a real turn. The grey clouds that were rolling around in the sky as I was approaching Helsingør were unleashing their fluids.

I was feeling quite wiped after the ride there, or more likely from the large lunch, and decided that it might be a good idea to take the train back to Copenhagen. Plus I had several other things I wanted to do back in Copenhagen this afternoon.

As I was walking my bike along the main strip of Helsingør to check out the local shops before catching the train, the rain really started coming down so I ran into the nearest shop to take cover.

Turns out it was a historic old ice cream parlour in town. Against all better judgement I ordered a cone. I rammed it down my gullet and then napped on the train back to Copenhagen.

At least I did the ride initially to cancel out the excessive calories at lunch, right?!

Anyways, it was nice to go out on my bike again for a longer ride. Hopefully I will have time for one more similar trip before I leave Copenhagen for Stockholm (on the 23rd).

DOTD

DOGS of CPH!

International Borders

I took the train this afternoon from Copenhagen (CPH) to Malmö, Sweden to visit my friend, Newsha.

I rode the train in a slight Sunday afternoon trance, trying to read my book while the light flickered between daylight and darkness, the train between earth and surface.

Once I arrived in Malmö I had some time to putter about the station before Newsha would meet me. It was about this time that I became aware of a need to use the bathroom.

I wandered until I found the immaculate toilet zone where there was an entry charge of 20 SKK. I dug around in my wallet for several minutes trying to count out my shackles to add up to 20. All this was going on as the toilet zone cashier looked on.

I finally produced a quantity of coins summing to 20, and handed them over to the cashier. He then told me they did not accept Danish coins.

I had forgotten I was in a different country.

But for the love of god, why did he wait through the agony of several minutes of me fumbling through my Danish coins to tell me they did not, indeed, accept Danish coins? Probably for his own entertainment.

I can’t blame him.

I paid the equivalent of two dollars and seventy-five cents Canadian and walked to the toilet. I vowed to spend a good deal of time in there, just for spite.

Having to pay to use the toilet in Europe is rampant and quite frustrating. However, as Newsha mentioned when I told her the story, at least you didn’t find homeless people sleeping in them or shit strewn on the walls.

She’s got a point there.

Laundry Day

Not since Delft have I taken my soiled clothing to a proper laundromat. Fear not, I HAVE washed my clothing since then – but not in the traditional ‘laundering’ method. Aka – I have washed stuff in the sink and / or shower.

I woke up in the morning with a sense of purpose and a can-do attitude. I was off to find the nearest coin laundry in CPH.

Once I arrived, I discovered that the machine only accepted cash so I had to set off once again to find an ATM. That in itself was a challenge. Eventually, I did find a sketchy little wall-ATM inside a mall and waited for the elderly Danish couple to finish their ATM related business. I don’t know what they were up to there, but they took a rather long time. I did some deep breathing and reminded myself I was in no rush.

I withdrew some cash and then went to the nearby grocery store to buy what I hoped was laundry detergent, thereby also breaking my bills for some change.

Back to the laundromat, I was face-to-face with a vending machine sized metal box mounted to the wall with an assortment of coloured buttons, labels with numbers on them, and a handwritten paper sign taped to the machine.

I had no idea what to do at all.

I saw there was one older couple there and I approached them to ask if they could help. They turned out to be tremendously helpful. They were from Long Island, New York, and had the accents to support it. They were so helpful that they walked me through every step of the process, right down to watching me insert my items into the machine.

The wife would start to explain something and then the husband would interject, and then they would both be talking, and then the wife would say, okay, he is just going to talk, but she also remained talking. All the while I was trying to be very polite and thankful while smiling and laughing to myself about their adorable bickering in strong Long Island accents. Then, I would ask a new question and the process would start all over again. It made for a very entertaining trip to do laundry.

Once Long Island couple had finished their laundry and were about to depart, another old American couple came in and asked for their help using the machines.

Of course, Long Island couple was more than happy to help and the whole process of walking through the instructions began again.

It was hilarious.

The second American couple had come all the way from Sweden to do their wash because apparently there were no laundromats in Malmö. I find this somewhat hard to believe, but surely they wouldn’t have taken the train to a different country to do their laundry if they didn’t have to.

Once my wash and dry were done, I packed my clean clothes in my backpack and was about to step out into the street, when I looked up and saw a pristine, clear sign with instructions on how to operate the laundry machines… in English.

Pride Parade

Yesterday was the final day of Pride Week in CPH and the city was absolute madness. I emerged from the laundromat and walked right into the eye of the storm – the Pride Parade!

The event and crowd were decorated fabulously, music was blasting, people were dancing and public drinking abound. The energy was infectious and it was an awesome event to witness. You couldn’t help but sing along with a smile plastered to your face.

DOTD

Lots of cuties taking in the Pride Parade!

I did not feel better in the morning. Rather, I felt worse. Well, shit.

I had planned my trip so the ride to Copenhagen would be about 85 km. As soon as I woke up I knew that using my body to propel myself on a bicycle for 85 kilometres was not going to happen. I fetched my phone and researched train schedules.

I got myself up and out of the B&B and rode the 8 km into the centre of Næstved. Even this was a chore, so I knew I had made the right choice by opting for the train.

For breakfast, I had a bowl of yogurt with fruit and muesli in a café near the train station. I, again, had a lot of expendible time today since my travel time was significantly shortened and I couldn’t check-in to my hostel in Copehagen until 3 pm. Normally, I would just drop my bags at the place and go about my day before my check-in, but I was too wiped out for that.

The train into Copenhagen took around an hour and was empty. No trouble navigating my way on and off the train with my bike. No screaming children. Blissful.

I arrived at the hostel around 1 pm and, as expected, couldn’t check-in. I sat in a room with a big screen TV playing CNN and highlighting the latest ridiculousness from the Trump Show. I did a bit of work and researched what to do in Copenhagen. I melted into the couch.

After eventually checking-in, I found a Pho place nearby and got a hot steamy bowl of soup and noodles. I put maybe too much hot sauce in, hoping it would clear out my sinuses. It was hot – in so many ways.

I took a nap.

In the evening I went to the Tivoli Gardens – a 19^th century amusement park in the heart of Copenhagen – where I was seeing an anniversary concert for the park.

The Copenhagen philharmonic orchestra and brass band were great. The overall effect of the event was… interesting. They had many side bits inserted – all of which were in Danish – so I had no idea what everyone was laughing at. But, it was fun and cute. They handed out little paper Danish flags to everyone!

After the concert, I essentially had a free ticket to the Tivoli Gardens – though it was closing in less than an hour. My most important concern at that time was to get something to eat because I hadn’t had dinner.

I walked around the park, which is roughly the size of 3 square city blocks, several times debating what I wanted to eat. There were so many choices! By the time I had finally decided, nothing was left open. I ended up having a jar of salted nuts. I got a banana at 7-11 on my way back. Perhaps not the best meal for a sick person.

During the day, I began to think it may be unlikely that I could participate in the 4-18-4 Iron Man race on Friday that I signed up for. What a bummer. I would try to have a good rest and see how I felt the next day.

In other news, I will be staying in Copenhagen for nearly a week and doing some day trips to and fro from here. This is essentially the end of the cycle tour, but I will keep blogging about my idiotic misadventures as they come!

DOTD

I enjoyed a wee lie in, too many cups of coffee, and a ‘homemade’ breakfast (yogurt, fruit, and muesli) in my little Danish sanctuary in Maribo.

I could afford to take it slow because my check-in in Næstved wasn’t available until 5 pm and the ride would only take about 3 and a half hours.

It was a nicer day than the last, both weather wise and in terms of series of unfortunate events unfolding.

The landscape here is beautiful, seemingly going on forever, only disrupted by the occasional grouping of trees and such. However, this flat and expansive geography does make for slightly monotonous riding. The roads are long and straight. At one point I could see where I would be kilometres ahead – in a straight line. Anyway, for directionally challenged individuals I highly recommend Denmark!

I rode over a long bridge. Like, really long. A few kilometres long. It was also pretty old and looked to be on it’s last legs. I passed only one other cyclist on the long crossing.

Once I reached the other side of the bridge I was in Vordingborg. I stopped at a bluff in a place called ‘Gutter Island.’ It was much nicer than a gutter. I sat watching the wind tear itself through everything: the flowers, grass, sea. It was a peaceful rest stop. Maybe it’s named this way because it is a good place to stop and think when your life is… in the gutter?

I carried on a short way to get to the Vordingborg Castle ruins. The castle was built in 1175! I walked around the grounds and had a little picnic with the mix of foods I had left in my bag.

I still had quite a bit of time to kill, and only about 30 km left from Vordingborg to Næstved. It was also looking like rain. I went for a coffee and to wait out the brief shower.

Shortly after it started, the rain had stopped and it was sunny again. It was about this time when I noticed a slight tickle in my throat. Ever the optimist, (what? No I’m not) I thought it had just been something I ate or drank irritating it. However, as I rode on I came to accept the fact that this certainly seemed like the preliminary symptoms of illness. Damn.

So, as I pedalled on and on to my B&B in Næstved, I become more fatigued and tickle-throated than usual. Relief washed over me when I arrived at the cute little home in the quiet outskirts of town.

The B&B had a pool in the backyard, but at this point I was feeling so run down that I couldn’t even bring myself to go for a swim. I lay on the plush, crisp white linens in my white washed wooden attic-like room and did nothing but read, watch TV, and drink tea.

I wanted to rest up and hopefully feel better the next day to make my way to Copenhagen.

DOTD

No dog captured today! Sadness.

Instead, I have dug something up from the archives.