NORWAY OCTOBER 2017

I’d been really unwell just before this trip to Norway.

My second visit, it was in Autumn and my best friend was expecting her first baby.

I was excited.

Naturally I’d caught a cold a few days before and I was rough as houses.

The day before I was due to leave, I was sent home from work as I’d almost collapsed.

I spent the whole day in and out of bed with a raging temperature, crying and panicked.

The bus to the airport was 5am the next morning and I was on the verge of cancelling.

By some miracle, I mustered the strength to get up at 3am, finish packing and catch the bus to the airport at 5am.

I should have not have flown…

Halfway to the airport I felt my stomach churn and a hot sweat washed over my body.

I was only taking hand luggage and I was anticipating cold weather in Norway in October, so I was wearing a thick cardigan and a jacket over that.

First mistake.

I got to the airport feeling pretty grim.

I hot-sweated my way through security, pushed through the marauding crowds in duty free and found seats to plonk myself onto post-haste.

The wait for the flight was excruciating and all I kept thinking about was being ill on holiday.

How I had made it that far was beyond me, so with another 6 hours of travel ahead of me, I was not optimistic.

I shuffled to the crowded departure gate to find a ton of shifty looking people looking at me as I swallowed back my nerves and queasy feeling tummy.

The weather had taken a turn for the worse and was blowing a gale outside.

After what felt like an eternity waiting to board, I made the slow walk behind everyone else to the plane – getting soaking wet through and feeling pretty disorientated at this stage.

I was sat on one of these two-seater efforts that KLM call a city-hopper. Next to a man who had already downed two Stella’s before we’d even taken off.

This is when the fun really begins…

Taxiing down the runway I feel my heart start to race, another hot sweat builds and I begin grappling at my massive cardigan and jacket in a bid to remove them and be cooler, but to no avail thanks to the risk of shattering the man’s ribs sat next to me.

As the plane ascended into the clouds, the force of cabin pressure mixed with the bad weather-related turbulence sent me into panic mode and I suddenly began to feel very, very ill.

A very strong wave of nausea came over me and I knew it wasn’t long before I vomited.

Fanning myself like a mad woman and sipping water very carefully, I delayed the inevitable until the seatbelt sign had gone off.

I was not being sick in front of an entire plane!

I escaped from my cocoon of autumnal layers like someone freeing themselves from a straight jacket and ran down the aisle of the plane – straight towards the toilets.

Some time later, looking like a ghost who’d had one two many gin and tonic’s in departures, I fumbled my way back to my seat, painfully aware that everyone must have realised what was wrong.

I chewed about 5908087 mints and sipped more water and sat there, eyes closed, waiting for landing in Amsterdam.

The landing of course was equally horrific but I didn’t sick, which was as much of a surprise to my seat partner, as it was to me.

It was rough, I was eyeing up the sick bag multiple times during landing and was ready to apologise to an entire plane load of people had I been ill.

But no. I survived and the second flight from Amsterdam to Norway was a lot more tolerable.

Still feeling quite unwell, my first evening in Norway was pretty ropy.

But the next day I was back to normal and even went on a hike with my friends on Bird island, lost my glasses, found my glasses and stepped in lots of poo.

The rest of the week was delightful, with autumnal walks with stunning views, herbal teas, chai espresso’s and good delicious grub.

We watched movies, had chats, went food shopping, cooked food, made plans, walked some more and watched more movies next to the log fire.

It was hygge goals.

The weather was as expected – cold, rainy, windy and misty.

And until you’ve looked out over misty mountains in the early morning with a light rain creating a blanket of dew on the ground, while you sip on fresh coffee surrounded by friends, I don’t believe you’ll have experienced happiness.

In the end, an amazing trip full of wonderful memories and feelings that will stay with me forever.

Despite the sick…

NORWAY • DAY ONE|PLANES, LAMA’S & PAVLOVA

Friday 29th July 2016 – Day One

Having been approached by a homeless drunk  asking for money (who turned out to be very pleasant), and being glared at by the girlfriend of a man I’d previously asked for help, I boarded the National Express from Bath 20 minutes late and began the 4 hour journey to London Gatwick.

The journey was fine, I slept on the coach and quietly ate my breakfast. It was still sinking in that I was on my way to an airport and I wasn’t coming home later that day. Twelve years on since my last trip abroad, I was not used to getting into the mindset of leaving England and my family, for such a long time. And to be honest, the whole feeling was rather exciting.

Arriving at Gatwick Terminal South, I slung my over-filled rucksack over my shoulder and clutched the handle on my suitcase and set off in the direction of check-in.

Going through security and check-in at Gatwick was single-handedly one of the most stressful experiences of my life. And I’ve been through a lot. Walking up the stairs to security, having ditched my water bottle and leaking banana, things felt reasonably calm. A feeling I would soon realise to be a false sense of security.

With the scene in front of me resembling what I imagine to be something quite similar to a Syrian border office, I was met with a wall of people queuing, bags and suitcases in hand, pushing and shoving each other. Each face had its own concerned and troubled expression, with eyes like a rabbit in headlights. I fear it wasn’t long before I looked pretty similar.

I spotted a free inch or three on a table where people were shoving liquids into a clear plastic bag provided by the airport, and becoming unusually territorial, I trotted like a kicked-up-the-arse-cow over and nabbed those precious free couple of inches. I had been organised enough before I left home to separate the liquids I was taking into a clear bag, but I noted here was a size limit on the bag’s provided by the airport. So conscious of not making my first criminal offence, I adhered to procedure’s and transferred it all into their own bag.

It was at this point the zip on my new (new) rucksack decided to break. The panic and fury that started to build inside me put me rapidly at risk of looking even more like a nervous wreck, so I did a pretty thuggish kick of my rucksack along the floor in order to keep my place at in the packed queue. There I was, juggling a passport, boarding pass, plastic bag of liquids, a broken rucksack and trying to fish out my ipad so I didn’t hold said queue up, I already looked dodgy as hell.

After about 5 minutes of being bumped into, shoved and stared intensely at by a 7-year-old boy holding a teddy, clearly trying to work out in his head how airlines allow twitchy human beings such as me to get on the same plane as potentially him, it was suddenly my turn to go through the beep machine.

Putting on my “I genuinely have nothing to hide and I was once a member of GirlGuiding” face and placing my belongings neatly in the trays, I proceeded to nonchalantly wander through the beep machine.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!!! 

“Oh Holy Jesus” I screeched as what seemed like every alarm in the building went off following my emergence from the beep machine. Before I knew what I’d done, I was immediately told to stand to one side and take off my shoes. I did a little prayer that my feet hadn’t acquired any fluff since 6 hours ago.

What occurred next can only be described as a necessary evil. Not only was I now bearing skin (feet and ankle) in public, I was then frisked (by actual hand) by a woman officer. Legs, waist, arms. And then I was shouted at for having something in my pocket. Upon being told to remove it, and noting that the officer had stepped back for the removal, I did a mini prayer that the passport I’d previously shoved in my left pocket had not suddenly turned into a pound of class A drugs. Fortunately and unsurprisingly, it was still my passport, and after more frisking, I was waved on. Shaking and with the driest mouth since chewing on a plain Rivita, I hurriedly collected my things and walked through duty-free in a frenzied daze. Completely bypassing anything ‘discounted’.

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The rest of the morning went fairly smoothly and without drama. After trailing around the airport looking at the shops with hiked up prices, I acknowledged my rumbling tummy and went to a place called Wondertree for brunch.

It was good, but what really made everything great; I could see the planes landing and taking off. There were a couple of incidences where a man thought I was taking a deep interest in his face but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that a very fast KLM had just taken off out of his left ear. Essentially. He was sat by the window…

When asked what I would like to order, I indulged in being quintessentially British for one last time, and felt compelled to order avocado on toast with tea. It was yummy.

Ok, a million hours later and 11.20am finally comes around. Boarding time!

Clutching my passport and boarding pass, standing in line grinning to myself like Mr Bean on his first holiday, I catch a glimpse of the massive creature that’s about to fly me 37,000 feet in the sky. I’m talking about the plane, not the pilot. I didn’t see him but I’m sure he’s very slim. He had a nice over-the-tannoy-voice too.

Settling myself into my seat (17c for those closet plane enthusiasts), I spot the man I’m sitting next to and launch in with introducing myself. “Hello, I’m Amy. This is my first plane ride by myself so if I start getting freaked out, don’t panic!” I say with far too much enthusiasm in my voice.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He says with a slightly nervous smile on his face, and without even looking at me, plugs his earphones in to his ear and ‘reads’ something on his phone. We didn’t exchange a single glance or word the entire flight. Take off was bloody scary and how I didn’t inadvertently clutch the man’s leg or scream, I don’t know.

For the majority of the flight I kept dozing. Or at least I think that’s what it was, and not passing out. I’d taken travel sickness pills which cause drowsiness, so I was thankful I had a solid reason for occasionally missing chunks of the flight. I hope to god I didn’t dribble.

The fun came when we started our decent into Norway. I decided then would be a fabulous time to put some make up on so I didn’t resemble an extra from The Walking Dead when I greeted my friend at arrivals. Maneuvering the small space, ear pressure and a heavy rucksack, I retrieved my make up bag and started to line things up on my fold down tray. Well, anyone would have thought I’d started to unload little toy bombs and missiles given the amount of tut’s and sighs I was getting.

Apparently ladies, making yourself look pretty for arriving in a new country is off-limits. Who knew?

Landing was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. After bumping the back wheels like a kid on a new bicycle, the pilot then whacked the brakes on, what I considered to be far too early, and there was a sort of metallic grinding sound as we continued to bump along the tarmac.

Disembarking from the plane was relatively easy, as was customs and baggage reclaim. Very speedy and with such a small airport, there was no option for getting lost.

Before I knew it, I was walking through the doors of arrivals and when I saw my friend standing there, I don’t think I can explain how happy I suddenly felt.

The adrenaline was soaring through me and we chatted and chatted in the car, on the way to where she lives with her husband. I could barely stop smiling. We stopped briefly at a place called Aksla, in Alesund, where the following pictures were taken.

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And after chatting quite a lot more about the last 3 years of our lives, we arrived in the town of Tresfjord, where they live. And where I would be staying for the next week.

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As you may be able to tell from the above picture, I was introduced to some lama’s. This was my first encounter with a lama outside of a zoo and without a mesh fence as a barrier. It went well, but given the look on my face, a Vallium would have gone down well before the meeting.

Only a month previous to this, my friend posted a picture of one of these Lama’s on her front doorstep.

There was so much to look forward to already…

Their house is beautiful. Set basically in a forest, every window I looked out of were either trees or mountains. The view from their living room was fresh out of a fairytale.

And just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, Ewelina presented the most delicious looking Pavlova she’d made for my arrival. It was spectacular and very yummy indeed!

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My first evening in Norway was spent eating delicious food, in the company of great friends, having a good old catch up.

Being able to visit friends after three years apart and just pick up where you left off, as though time never really moved, is a very special thing.

I went to bed with a huge feeling of happiness and excitement for the week to come.

 

 

EIGHT DAYS

Eight days to go…

With my trip to Norway only just over a week away, the excitement is building and my thoughts are beginning to turn to making the most of my time over there.

This will not only be my first trip ever to Norway but is also my first time out of the country for 12 years and the first time I’ve traveled by myself.

Only ever having traveled as a child with my parents to places like Greece and Spain for beach holidays, at 25 I feel quite behind in the world of travel, and I honestly cannot wait to experience every single part of being in a different country as an adult.

I am staying with friends I haven’t seen for three years. They are two of my favourite people and having gone on adventures with them before, staying with them in Norway will be a wonderful way to catch up and see the life they have built together since moving there.

While I’m there, I plan to study a bit and write. I really want to get into to travel writing so I will be live blogging for the week I’m there. I’m reading Michael Palin’s Himalaya book currently and am feeling so inspired to document my travel’s, and know I am going to want to go on so many more of them once I’m back from Norway.

I know deep down both traveling and writing are in my heart, each as strong as the other, and so the obvious way forward is travel writing. Whether that will be in the form of travel blogging or travel journalism, I don’t know. But I am so certain that’s where my heart and my future lies.

I see this trip away as a massive opportunity for me. A break yes, from everything that’s bringing me down and emotionally stopping me from getting on with life and making important headway. But I’m basically escaping to the mountains with amazing, cultural people, eating good food and hopefully, giving myself the chance to find the answers to some of the questions whirring round my mind.

So far, I have no nerves or serious anxieties about the trip. I have been known to get very uptight and stressed just going to London for the weekend, but the prospect of boarding a plane by myself and leaving the country for a week seems to have chilled me right out. That or I’m in complete denial.

I’ll be leaving the house to catch the coach to London at three in the morning, arriving at Gatwick half seven am and flying at lunchtime. Meeting my friends at Alesund airport, we’ll then make the one and a half hour journey to their home arriving about half five pm. I’ll be traveling for about 14 hours, which I have to say does excite me, but I’m sure the novelty will be absent on the return journey.

Oh, and the other little nugget of new experience; I’ll be helping to look after an Alaskan Malamute while I’m there. He’s not my friend’s dog, it’s their friend’s and he looks beautiful. Massive and 52kg’s. But beautiful.

So, hopefully I’ll come back in one piece.

All that remains is to pack, do a last minute trip to Primark next Wednesday and then I’ll be good to go.

In truth, I can’t help that but feel like I’ve forgotten something really important, but we’ll roll with it and see what happens…

Takk and ha det

Amy x