Asia

Singapore. Oh Singapore.

There is rain, and then there is the sky falling down on top of you.

It didn’t matter how hard I squinted my eyes. I still couldn’t see a thing. But I didn’t care. The wet combination of sweat and sunscreen left my eyes burning like an open flame. I didn’t care about that either. With tears and rain streaming down my face, salty and sweet drops seemed to be taking turns in reaching my lips.

It doesn’t happen that often, but sometimes life steps up to give you Oscar-worthy chronology. This was one of those moments.

Less than an hour earlier I had left Malaysia. A country suffering from a historical hot season and drought. Forced to close schools as well as the water supply for whole cities. Then, literally one step across the border – the sky burst. And so did I.

I did have a place to go. But as I’ve told you twice already – I didn’t care. With the rain pounding down on my head and shoulders, I did what I always do. I mounted my bike and started peddling. Along whatever road I was on – I cycled. Fast. Without the intention of getting anywhere – I pushed my pedals. One after another. Harder and harder.

Heart racing. Tears flowing.

I love how my well my body serves me. Doing whatever it can to let me go though with all the madness my mind comes up with. This though, had nothing to do with providing oxygen to muscles or protecting eyes from salt. This was something completely different.

This was emotion.

‘I actually did it. I cycled to fucking Singapore.’

Crying like a baby. Laughing like a mad person. Shouting from the top of my lungs. Peddling. And going nowhere.

Living.

Rain, rain, rain. Big, heavy drops turning roads into rivers. But this wasn’t any rain. This was my entire journey falling down from the sky. The high mountains. The deserts. The people. The fear. Joy. The hardships that only I know of. And the secret gems that I’ll never tell anyone.

Pride, and relief. Utter happiness, and undefined sorrow. Everything, all at once.

Too much for to deal with then and there. So I didn’t.

Instead peddled. Hard and without stopping. I faced the sky to let the rain drops break towards my skin. Still blind. Still halfway to a heart attack. On one hand this was all too much. But it was also just one small thing.

This was a girl – and the simple joy of riding a bicycle.

Life? I love you so, so much.

Fredrika

PS.

Australia. You’re next!

By |May 13th, 2016|Asia, Travel Logs|

Malaysian Mixtape

Every single country in South East Asia has them. The tourist hot spots. They exist in all imaginable shapes and forms, but tend to have far more in common with each other, than they have with other places within the country they happen to be situated.

Overpriced, westernised varieties of the local cuisine. Souvenir shops stocking pirated Ray Ban Wayfarers and tank tops with the logo of whatever is the national beer brand, printed across the chest. White people (who also come in quite a few different shapes and forms) buying them. Billboard music blasting from every other speaker. And in comparison to the national standard, an extremely high level of English amongst everyone from the fancy hotel directors to the old ladies selling grilled corn on the street.

There is always the good, the bad and the the ugly, and these places surely are no exceptions to that. But even if I had knowledge enough to do so, I don’t think I would spend this post on that anyways. I’m not going to write about the growing economies and improved living standards of the local people. Not about how the mass crowds are slaughtering what once was true natural gems either. And I won’t even touch the ruined eco systems and horrific sex tourism industries.

I’ll just quickly point out that these places are great whenever one’s after a relaxed escape from the rat race back home. But more than that, they are amazing for anyone up for getting a completely messed up, and highly inaccurate impression of any given country.

Aaand those were my last thoughts before hopping on the ferry, taking me from Thailand to the island of Langkawi – the #1 tourist destination of Malaysia.

(Not the) WAY TO GO..!

One of those particularly pretty afternoons I arrived at the port, just as immodest as the sentences you just read. Convinced that I had (this part of) the world sort of figured out. I was expecting Malaysia to be different from the rest of Southeast Asia, but wasn’t thinking much about that at the moment. That would come later – in the ‘true’ Malaysia. Not here in Langkawi. This was just another floating tourist trap. And while people, cultures and languages change – they don’t. I know that.

…right?

I had my bike hauled off the roof of the ferry. Got my passport stamped. Let my feet hit the pedals.

And quickly realised two very important things.

1) Fredrika. You know nothing.

2) Oh, oh. You don’t… even know which side of the road to ride on?!?!!

Scheisse.

I’ve spent the last year or so in more or less constant confusion. If it’s not greetings or food manners, it’s bathroom etiquette or the never ending ‘shoes or no shoes’ dilemma. But throwing myself out in a busy one-way harbor traffic, and realise too late that I have no idea where anyone, myself included, is going? That might just take the price. (In theory I could have checked which side of the cars had the steering wheel. In practice I realised that like 2 km to late.)

I have a few photos that make Langkawi look just like these places tend to do.

On some accounts the island is living up to everything you could expect from it. The crowds are there. For sure. What had slipped my mind though was that Malaysia, being a muslim country, would bring in a big add on to the clientele compared to the rest of the region. Langkawi is a paradise not only for the Western backpackers, Chinese families and Southeast Asian travellers. It’s also bringing in people from all over the Arabic world.

And the mix is amazing.

Langkawi is weird and it’s awesome. And definitely one of the best spots ever for some hardcore people watching.

Next to each other on the beach, European girls are covering less skin than their Arabic counterparts are showing. In the same restaurant you’ll have one table eating their rice with a spoon and fork. One using chopsticks. And at another one a family eating the same dish with the hand.

Though however fascinating Langkawi might be, the rule does apply also here. This place is anything but an accurate representation of Malaysia. Although, in a way it is the best one of them all.

Malaysia is all about the mix. There is the muslim majority of ethnic Malays. But also a huge population of native Chinese and Indians. All in the company of a growing number of Bangladeshis and others. Mosques are built next to churches or across the street from Buddhist temples. China Town and Little India are a given part of any proper city.

Languages, cultures and religions are living side by side, going about their own lives without interfering with each others. And bringing together the best of all these different worlds, the selection of food is unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

As has already been decided – I know nothing, and things are rarely as simple as they might seem. But from an outsider’s perspective, the diversity of this place absolutely beautiful.

And so was the cycling.

Out of the 5 I’ve visited, Malaysia is my favorite country in Southeast Asia. I didn’t really expect it, but I’ve fallen in love with this place. But as this is already getting a bit lengthy, I’ll save it to another post to explain why.

Writing this I can barely think. I’m in Mersing, way down south on the east coast. Merely 130 km from Singapore. One big day’s ride from reaching land’s end. The thought of that I’ve actually made it here is a lot at the moment. It’s far from the end for me, but definitely the milestone of a lifetime.

I’m not there yet. But I don’t care.

Already tonight, I’ve decided to be very, very proud of myself.

Talk to you soon.

Fredrika

By |April 30th, 2016|Asia, Travel Logs|

Thailand Playgrounds

Oh gosh.

White, never-ending beaches. Crystal clear, azure seas. Curries to die for. And some of the most effortless riding a cyclist will ever experience. I’m stating the obvious here, but I’m over the moon about Thailand. In love with everything from its otherworldly natural beauty to the intoxicating warmth of the people calling this place their home.

Physically this was my second ever visit to Thailand. Mentally though, I’d been here a thousand times before. To get myself through those stone cold nights in the Tibetan mountains, this was the place my mind had kept escaping to. Exchanging the freezing sleeping bag with warm sand against my skin. The frozen yak tea in my water bottle with a fresh fruit shake under a shady palm tree. Desperately trying to convince everything from my numb toes to oxygen-craving lungs, that this madness would all be worth it.

‘Suck it up. You’re moving south, God damn it.’

Some of you know how much I love cashing in on the reward of an epic view after a big climb. Thailand was a full month of it. With the country itself being the view, and the year long ride there being the climb leading up to it.

Trust me when I say I’ve been enjoying myself. To a ridiculous amount. Though not without at times catching myself with feeling sort of guilty about it. I started this whole thing wanting to test – and push – my limits. And however tough in the moment, what I value the most from this journey are the times when I’ve truly gotten to do just that.

In Thailand though? Not so much.

Unless you with limits refer to stuff like:

– How many ‘swim & shade’ beach breaks can be squeezed into one afternoon
– How many perfectly ripe, dirt cheap mangos it’s physically possible to down in one meal
– Exactly how little time one can actually spend in the saddle on a day of riding


Relaaax! Because of why not?

Thailand was a gem. And in perfect harmony with the lazy human being the ‘Land of Smiles’ turned me into, I’m not going to give you many more words than that. I did find a lot of stuff in my camera though, and figured a few bits and pieces from it won’t hurt anyone.

If nothing else, just to prove to myself that (in between the swims and pad thais) I actually did a little cycling over there.


M-I-L-E-S-T-O-N-E ! !

With the hot season at it’s peak, temperatures did reach quite impressing numbers and midday breaks from the sun was a given part of any day. I spent a lot of them on the beach, but did from time to time find myself some shade that wasn’t given by a palm tree.


I always love seeing what some random cave exploring can lead up to

From time to time I almost diluted myself into thinking that I was putting in some proper effort on the Thai tarmac. But was generally quickly reminded of reality by passing people who’re actually working hard.


Compare this…


…to THIS.

That somehow seems to be how it works when being a tourist in Thailand. Don’t mind worrying about anything. Whatever is going on, balance will always magically be restored before you know it.

When you’re without a place to sleep – friendly monks will appear, taking you in for the night.

When you’ve obviously had too much sun…

…a humongous downpour will come to cool down your brain.

Thailand just… works.

Which is my number one reason for loving the place. As well as why I felt so happy – almost relieved – to leave it. Thailand truly did it’s job. Providing me with the ultimate holiday from the holiday, and I did love it.

But awesome as it was, enough is enough.

Why this is funny?

Well. Because I’m now officially one of the 350 000 other Swedes leaving their Thailand holidays each and every year. Happy to have come. Even happier getting to leave. I’m basically just joining the choir here:

Thank you Thailand, it’s been great.

Now?

I’m ready to get back to work again.

See you in Malaysia!

Fredrika

By |April 16th, 2016|Asia, Travel Logs|

Cambodian Glances

Cambodia. I definitely passed it on my way from Vietnam to Thailand. Rode across the country, east to west. But to say that I travelled the place, that just wouldn’t feel right. My 5 days of riding and a few more spent stationary in Siem Reap was an appetiser. A way too short glimpse of a mesmerising country that I one day simply must go back to.

I saw too little of it. But what I did see, was pretty amazing.

Cambodia has a lot to offer it’s visitors. Bustling markets. Mysterious Khmer temples. Some ridiculously good food. Exciting cycling, though? Not so much. Flat as a pancake, straight, and in all honesty… sooo dull. This is the type of riding you just got to sit down and get done.


Road

– Imagine a bunch of hours (or days) passing –


More road

Let’s just leave it at that.

Off road though, this place is quite something.

Getting of the main road in Cambodia can be somewhat of a gamble. The major ones are of decent quality, but take a single turn off it and you could very well end up on some sandy path ready to swallow you whole, bike and all. As always though, it’s when making these turns that the real magic appears.

And speaking of magic – I did visit the ancient city of Angkor. Invaded by tourists, sure. But there is just no denying the fact that the iconic temples ruins of the Khmer empire is and remains absolutely otherworldly.

I only got a glimpse of Cambodia. And now I’m only giving you a glimpse of my time there. But I guess that’s just how life is sometimes. And probably all for the best, why else would we keep wanting to come back for more?

Until next time,

Fredrika

By |March 25th, 2016|Asia, Travel Logs|

Vietnam & Mr. Military Man


‘No.’

‘Sir, I just…’

‘No.’

‘But what if…’

‘No.’

‘Would you…’

‘NO!’

It was high time to face it – this was a dead end. The stern military officer in front of me didn’t only have the last, he had the only word in the matter. And his decision was as clear as it was final.

Two full days of working some of the worst roads I’ve ever come across had almost taken me the whole way to Cambodia. Completely marinated in sweat and dust, I now had a mere 20 km to the border. And the only way from here was back. Back for a 160 km detour still taking me to that very same border crossing.

Damn it.


With arms folded across his buff chest, the tall officer glared down at me. I looked back at him. All I wanted to do was to flick that stupid military hat off of his disproportionally tiny head.

Sure, the last hours I had been peddling along with this melancholic feeling of leaving too soon. During the last days I had been introduced to a completely different world compared to the loud and chaotic Vietnam I had first entered, and I wasn’t really ready to leave it. I knew that this guy was sort of doing me a favor. But fact remains, I am a cyclist. I hate going back.

Especially when people in uniforms are telling me to do so.

Sorry, I’m skipping ahead here. Of course weeks of Vietnam had been leading up to this. Great weeks! A recap of which would look something like… this.




Crossing in from Laos I got a mighty welcome. Central Vietnam bombarded me with limestone mountains, flowing rivers, stunning caves, and picture perfect rice fields as far as the eye could see.


Phong Nha Cave






The beauty of this country is obvious. That was not what really hit me coming in though. With a population more than tenfold that of Laos, the shift in tempo was a given. The lovely friendliness with which I had been welcomed to Laos was just as present all through Vietnam, though the style was completely different. Regardless if it came to children cheering me on from across the street, a lady selling bananas or a car honking before taking over. Everyone and everything here was just – louder.

And it would be impossible to write this post without mentioning them. The motorbikes.

With 40 million registered motorcycles in the country, almost 1 out of 2 Vietnamese people (grandmothers and infants included) have their own motorbike. This is a country on two wheels, a fact which you’ll not only be reminded of while on the road. It’ll wake you up in the morning, keep you company during day, and finally rock you to sleep at night. The sound of 40 million roaring two-stroke engines. The soundtrack of Vietnam.


The coast is where the number of people and tourists (and motorbikes!) skyrocket. With the crowds come everything from heavy traffic to hassling, and all the things I usually try to keep on arm’s length. However, after being landlocked for what literally seemed like forever. I could not not make my way out to the sea.


On top on the Hai Van Pass



Thumbs up!

A brief coastal ride gave me just what I wanted – a few days of epic views and salty hair. Saving my true beach rides for Thailand though, I headed west up the highlands first chance I got.




In some places finding the feeling of going off the beaten path basically just means not riding on the major highway. In other places you have to work for it a little (or a lot) more. Vietnam is one of them. And in search for my very own corner of this quite crowded country, I found just what I was looking for.

My Vietnam.



Possibly the friendliest corn lady in South East Asia


Still unaware of that the path I was on would eventually lead me straight into sensitive military frontier headquarters, I spent a bunch of truly amazing days on the bike. Slow going on bumpy roads, relative solitude, perfect camping and people that don’t expect to see you. All I ever wish for in a ride.

Writing this though I realise that maybe I should also add ‘being caught rambling around inside restricted frontier areas’ to that list. Because that part, simply got me more of all of the above.

If nothing else, I would say an apology is in order. Here it goes.

I’m sorry, Mr. Military Man. Sorry for those things I called you inside my head. And for wanting to flick that cap off of yours. Which by the way, is totally of the appropriate size.

And thank you, Mr. Military Man. Thank you for standing your ground. And for sending me back to this.






Tailwinds,

Fredrika

By |March 18th, 2016|Asia, Travel Logs|

Back To Basics

Remember how in my last post, I told you I’d embraced this whole backpacker-ish lifestyle that Laos was providing? Showers. Beds. Fruit shakes. Snappy wifi connections. How I’d decided to simply enjoy it while I still had the chance?

I sort of lied a little bit.

Or at least I didn’t stick to the newfound concept – at all. Basically in the very moment of proclaiming this new mindset, I realised it wasn’t going to work. This weird claustrophibic feeling was creeping up on me in full speed, and I just had to do something about it. And I’m happy I did.

Sure, calling the Laos experience an adventure would definitely be stretching it. In the end however – it was an amazing bike ride. Leaving the capital Vientiane there were no more tourist sites in sight. From there on it was me and the open road.

Finally.

Every day on the bicycle is unique. In opposite to my old working life at home, I can now recall every single day of the last year. I flick through my journal and am instantly thrown back to the hills of Albania, ‘my’ families in Uzbekistan or those instant noodles in the Chinese desert.

But at the same time my days are more the same than ever before in my life. It doesn’t matter if I’m sweating away under my hijab in eastern Iran or freezing my nose off on the Tibetan plateau. I’m cycling. Patiently pushing those pedals, and at times making a turn or two.

The contradiction doesn’t always make sense, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

My last week in Laos was very much like that. Same, same but different. That perfect balance of things always staying interesting, while a constant sense of familiarity gave room for that to-die-for feeling of… flow.

So. Last week in Laos. I thought I’d hit you with a few photos to give you the gist of it.

First off I moved back home.


Newfound camp spot love of mine: Rubber plantations!

I was spoilt to some quite incredible nature.


Limestone mountains. Pretty as could be!

…and people.


The village football team (who totally kicked my butt…)

(Well, this one doesn’t have anything to do with anything. I just didn’t want to be all alone with this absurd uphill. Can’t believe I spent hours of my life on this one. Total trauma!)


Can you see how CRAZY steep this is?!

What do you say. It’s not one with a whole lot of luxuries, at least not if considering luxuries to be those thing-things. One thing is very clear though. This is my way of traveling. And apparently it’ll take a bit more than backpacker Laos to change that.

Actually no. I think it’ll take a lot more.

See you in Vietnam!

Fredrika

By |February 21st, 2016|Asia, Travel Logs|

Lao Adventure Withdrawal

‘Hey you! Aren’t you… Fredrika?’

Fresh off the plane from Thailand to Laos I was still comfortably snuggled up in the love bubble that had surrounded my whole being for the last couple of weeks. My family had already landed and gone on with their lives back home in Sweden, but I still hadn’t really felt the need to join my own reality just yet. I was just back at the Luang Prabang hostel that had stored my bicycle while I was away, but before I had even dropped my panniers on the dorm room floor, someone was addressing me. In Swedish?

I turned around.

‘So the bicycle upstairs is yours! I’m Björn. I’m reading your blog! We were actually talking about you earlier today.’

Whoa.

Weird, weird, weird.

I do know that I am keeping a blog. I also do know that there are people out there reading it. But to unexpectedly bump into one of them that doesn’t have their backside glued onto a saddle? That was unexpected. And hadn’t it been for the friendly smiles of Björn and his backpacker companion Johan, I’m quite confident I’d also have been a bit embarrassed.

Excited as I was to reunite with my bicycle, and officially kick off the Southeast Asia leg of my journey, I had anticipated a bit of a vacuum getting back to Laos. Saying another indefinite goodbye to my loved ones obviously includes some heartache, and I had gotten myself ready to take on another battle with the empty feeling I struggled with as I was peddling away from everyone and everything I ever knew on those very first trembling days of this journey.

Turned out though, my new Swedish roomies would save me from – or at least postpone – all that. Instead of pondering on when I’d get to hug my Mom or crack jokes about my brother’s haircut next time – I was sipping fruit shakes at the night market, engaging in sprited and highly scientific debates on what actually is the best Swedish fika (google it).

As it turned out, these guys had both been playing around with the idea of taking the plunge and head out for bicycle travels of their own. But – as so many others – never really gotten to it. When it comes down to it, it simply is too complicated. Too much to organise. Too many decisions to take. Too many unknowns.

Naturally I played my part of the game as well. Dumbing the whole process down to an extent that makes preparing breakfast seem like an overwhelming task in comparison.

‘Buy a 2nd hand bicycle. A tent. Strap it with your backpack to the rack. Pick a direction. Go.’

Johan had his flight home a week later, Björn hadn’t. And even though (at least initially) the whole conversation was a joke and strictly hypothetical, this new glimmer in his eyes was increasingly obvious. As though the big smile on his face hadn’t been enough on it’s own.

Already next day we all parted ways. The guys taking a bus south, and I was strapping my bicycle to the roof of another one – headed north back up to the Chinese border. I had already been excited to get back on the road again, but meeting Björn and Johan had been yet another reminder of how incredibly lucky I am to get to be doing this. Living my dream, all day every day. It would be an insult to those who aren’t, to forget to appreciate that.


Back at the China – Laos border crossing

Right off the bat Laos treated me to a royal experience in the saddle. The lush north is a complete wonderland of rolling hills and steep passes topped off with some quite otherworldly views. I thought I already had appreciated them, as twice before I had watched them with my nose pressed up against the bus window. This one time on the bike though, brought the value of a million bus rides combined. There is really no denying it. Experiencing nature is simply not done through a glass window.

I don’t want to see a view. I want to feel it.

Absolutely breathtaking, and serene but still challenging as it was, there was something about riding the northern part of Laos that didn’t quite resonate. My boxes were definitely ticked, and it was all seemingly there. Except for the feeling of adventure, that had been my constant companion all through the Middle East, Central Asia and China.

I had difficulty pinpointing it at first, but as the days went by it got more and more obvious. Was this… too easy? I knew it is all about mindset, but I still had difficulty setting mine straight.

Now don’t get me wrong here.

Laos is one of the poorest countries in the world. A country where almost half the population is forced to live on less than 1.25 USD/day. The tiny and completely undeveloped villages I passed were mostly made up by a string of small, beaten down bamboo houses, and communal tap of water used for showering and laundry.

With chickens, children and dogs (all equally dusty) running all around, people gather around small wood fires to eat and socialise after long days of working on the rice fields.

For most people in Laos, life is not too easy.

For me though? A well off tourist with budget enough to spend every single night in a guesthouse? I would like to say that it is.

On this journey, helping hands from locals have been essential for me. Being fed by that shepherd in the outskirts of Tajikistan when something to eat simply wasn’t to be found. Or getting invited to warm up and stay in the nomads’ heated tent on the Tibetan plateau, when the cold was making me seriously wonder how I’d ever make it though the night.

I’ll never dilute myself to the point where I’d ever mistake myself for being anything else that a tourist. But the somewhat obscure places I’ve gone to, and the mean of transport which I’ve been using to do so, have indeed given me a sense of – even if only for brief moment – joining the life of the people along my path. Doing so has been completely vital and at times I’ve simply had no other choice.

In Laos though. When being invited to sit down by one of the village fires, taking a bite of a newly grilled piece of buffalo skin. I felt like I was in a museum. What was going on around me obviously wasn’t fiction, but I couldn’t really getting over the feeling of merely being an observer. I was never in it.

As women queued up to wash their hair, I didn’t. I didn’t need to. I was never more than a day away from a hot shower. And buffalo skin? All of a sudden it was my curiosity – rather than hunger – chewing away on things like that.

Zipping up my tent at night, I almost felt like if I’d just be silent enough, I’d be able to hear the beating music from the night clubs of Luang Prabang, Vang Vieng or Vientiane – whichever was the closest backpacker hotspot that day. It turned out Southeast Asia was not only a new chapter in theory. The days went on and more and more I realised that change was here – and there was nothing I could, or should, do about it.

So.

Can’t change it? Embrace it.

And I think that by now I have. I mean, after all I am here. I actually made it to Southeast Asia. On a bicycle! I’ll gladly have a bed and a shower at the end of the day. I’ll have one – no, actually two – of those fruit shakes. I figued I’ve sort of earned them.

Although. And I don’t think I really need to tell you this. Obviously I still prefer the rides in between the cities, rather than the beer and backpackers inside them.

Who wouldn’t?

Making it to Vientiane I was up for a few days of rest in order to get my upcoming Vietnam visa in order. Guess who arrived there the same evening as me?

Björn!

On. His. Bicycle.

Now this guy is amazing. What he did after we said our goodbyes in Luang Prabang a couple of weeks earlier?

Bought a 2nd hand bicycle. A tent. Strapped his stuff to the rack. Chose a direction. And went.

We’d kept in contact as he’d made a big loop through the country, and I was so happy to get to see him as he returned to his starting point in the capital. We spent a few days being super tourists together, and on the morning of us both leaving we rode out of the city like total partners in crime.

I was headed further through Laos, and Björn was hitting Thailand – taking on the 2nd country of his first epic bicycle tour. And he did it like a boss! I’m still so impressed by this guy.

In life – not only as it comes to something as silly as riding a bicycle – making a change, or taking a leap of faith can be horribly complicated. Too complicated in fact. Too much to organise. Too many decisions to take. Too many unknowns.

I think for most of us, if we’re completely honest – it’s too scary. And Björn is a good reminder that it doesn’t always have to be. Sometimes we just got to go with it. Because really – that thing we want, is usually ever only a plunge away.

Obviously – watching him set off for the Friendship Bridge over the Mekong was a total proud mother moment.

Can you really blame me?

Fredrika

By |February 15th, 2016|Asia, Travel Logs|

A Reunion, New Year & A Holiday From The Holiday

I love the rewards. Watching the world around me change at the pace of my pedal strokes. Cashing in that massive downhill after a big climb. Or finally having that shower, washing a week’s worth of sweat and dirt off my tired body.

Because that is kind what makes the whole thing, isn’t it? Working – or at least waiting – for something, to then get it. At least I know that when I still had a soft bed to fall asleep in every night, I sure didn’t appreciate it. Now however? Well. And don’t even get me started on clean sheets.

Obviously the same goes with people, perhaps more so than with anything else. A fact that became very clear to me as I was standing at Luang Prabang Airport, ticket in hand and with a heart beating like a drum.

I love the rewards. And I was now about to receive the biggest one I could ever even dream of. Those 3 months in China had been one of the richest experiences of my life. But it had all been with that one clear goal constantly resting in the back of my mind. A goal that during the last rough weeks had become pretty much all I could think of.

This.

With mind and body equally exhausted, I boarded the plane. Flying me to Bangkok, Thailand. A place which I have absolutely zero connection to, but that now felt more like home than anywhere else in the world. Because awaiting me there – was my family.

I love the rewards.

Now. Getting to hug my mom. Dad. My younger brother Henrik. Older brother Kristian. And his Sara. To – after 10 months of boiling deserts & ruthless mountains (& some pretty good stuff, but let’s be a bit dramatic here) – reunite with the people I love most in this world. That simply does not fall into the same category as a sweet downhill or a good shower.

This was… something else.

I think most of you can relate. In the end I had almost 2 weeks with my family. 2 weeks during which we basically didn’t do or see anything. Still. This is and will remain one of my big highlights for a long time to come. And not because of the showers.

Writing this it’s one month ago since we were all standing on the beach of Hua Hin, spending the last trembling minutes of 2015 together. Now we’re already well into 2016, and I’m still thrilled to see what this year have in store for me. My first ever full year of adventure.

One thing is clear though. 2016 can hit me with all the mountains, deserts, new cultures and adrenaline rushes it wants. Whatever it might come up with, nothing will ever quite measure up to these guys.

And to you. You’ve already heard this, but I still want to say it again:

Mom & Dad. Henrik. Kristian. Sara. Thank you! Thank you for coming down, and giving me the energy boost of a lifetime. You are all amazing. I love you. And I miss you already.

Fredrika

By |February 2nd, 2016|Asia, Travel Logs|

Yunnan – The Ultimate Obstacle Course

Yunnan – my 4th, and the southernmost province of China – was a whole new experience from start to finish. By the time of me getting there I already knew this of course, as it seems to always be the case in this country – containing more separate worlds than one think could exist within one nation’s borders.

Yunnan hosts some 50 different ethnic groups and provides it’s people with nature ranging between everything from the massive and merciless mountains in the north to the thick and tropical jungles of the south. But expecting variety is one thing. Experiencing it, is of course another – and the whole thing turned out to be a lot different from how I had first imagined it.

A lot of the surprise was directly connected to two particularly crazy French people, and a cycling clog. Yeah, one of those wooden, somewhat pointy, Dutch clogs. A clog which of course makes up a complete pair with a second clog of the same size. This second one though, plays no part in my Yunnan experience, as it’s still long lost somewhere on the empty steppe of Uzbekistan. Even saying that the first one is, is kind of stretching it. The man insisting to keep putting his foot inside it is though. As if only to put the craziness of the French to shame.

However, all of that comes later. Before all the madness that would eventually come to be my Yunnan – I arrived.

Once again I was booming down big mountains. The difference from all the other times I’d done this in China was that this time I was actually bound to stay down there. For a long time. I was well aware that Yunnan no doubt would give me my fair share of climbing, but mountains? No, that chapter was officially finished.

Though life was still good.

Nature was doing it’s best to give me a colorful welcome and I was rolling straight into the town on Shangri-La. A finish line which meant an at the time extremely needed time for rest. And an even more needed visa extension.

A week spent in Shangri-La was the start off of a short but intense dash down the beaten tourist track. One I have to say I enjoyed immensely. This was actually the place where I met my very first non Chinese people since leaving Kashgar almost 2 months earlier.


With Canadian & English friends in Shangri-La


I continued on to the beautiful but crowded town of Lijiang


From a 2 day trek through the Tiger Leaping Gorge

Let me tell you it was a cool feeling to – at last – be able keep a conversation where the main concern actually was what was being said, and not the words being used to say it. To meet people who had somewhat of the same western references as myself, and together try to make some sense of that always so confusing, and seemingly constantly expanding puzzle of China.

It didn’t take much though. Actually it took a lot less than I’d have thought, before I was completely done with these stuff. Letting TripAdvisor & Lonely Planet set the agenda. Staying put in the tourist herd. Snapping photos of those ‘Must See’s. (Who in all honestly, very rarely are just that). And then end up in another hostel with a new bunch of people who all had, or were just about to, experience exactly the same things as me and everyone else.

Gosh. Are you coming to the same conclusion as I did?

It was high time to hit the road.

So I did.

And that’s when real things started happening.

On the road south is when I bumped into French cyclists Amelie & Kris. A lovely couple with whom I spent a couple of nice days and evenings until all of ours next stop – the city of Dali. After a detour passing the old town of Shaxi we had a sweet ride by the lake into Dali, getting our first proper glimpse of agricultural Yunnan.

After a few good days together I thought our roads would part. My plan from there was clear and with zero wiggle room for compromise. My family, most of whom I hadn’t seen once since setting off some 10 months ago, was coming to Thailand to celebrate New Years. And if I would just get my ass to Bangkok in time, I would be joining them for the occasion.

That I would be taking transports for the whole thing to work was a given, but still I was up for a classic race against time. In order to later get back to my last point and keep cycling, I first needed to get out of China. And to make it in time to my family, I needed to do it in time for Christmas.

Easy.

Considering the distance and elevation ahead, easy was perhaps not the term for it. But neither was impossible. Far from it. I had had my rest, I had the best motivational carrot imaginable, and I was headed for those 10 straight days of tough cycling with a good feeling.

To my great surprise I found out that apparently I wasn’t the only one. The Crazy French, with no apparent reason not to keep on with their slow mornings and juggling breaks, decided to join the party.

‘We’ve been lazy for a long time now. So why not? Let’s cycle!’

And before we had even set off the next morning, our trio had been expanded with yet another mad man – Ritzo from the Netherlands. Now what went through this guy’s head here is still a mystery to all of us. Not least to himself I think.

Short version: Ritzo rolled in to Dali late evening, ready for a big break. Big break for real, that is. Aiming to pick up an English teaching job, maybe Dali could actually become home for the upcoming year? Those big things would have to wait for a few days though. First things first: getting a shower, washing those dirty clothes – and finally doing something about the bike. That would be enough for now.

Or so he thought.

The next morning Ritzo was standing there – again. Bike loaded and ready to hit the road. This time with a couple of crazy French and a Swedish girl in a rush. His clothes just as dirty as yesterday. He still hadn’t showered. God, he hadn’t even had breakfast. What was this? And why..?

No one has the answer to those questions anymore now than we did then.

But don’t worry – we left before he had time to change his mind!


In the back: Ritzo, Kris & Amelie

The upcoming 10 days and 900 something kilometers, I won’t say too much about. I can’t. Nothing I’d say would come close to doing this madness justice. Our ride south through Yunnan was gorgeous. But more than that, one of the most chaotic experiences ever. Landslides, crashes, road blocks, stomach bugs, mechanicals and mud roads being just a few ingredients to it all.


Got this one from my brother. I think it pretty much sais it all.

It was dirty. Sweaty. And pretty damn exhausting. But most importantly incredibly beautiful, and some of the better 10 days I think I’ve had on a bike. Here are a few clues to what the whole thing looked like.


First camp night. Completely clueless of that this was just the calm before the storm…


…that the upcoming day introduced itself in the form of a huge landslide


Locked in overnight, loosing a valuable half a day


Being back on obstacle free roads…


…rarely lasted very long.


Stuck waiting for the 3rd landslide in 2 days to be cleared

Despite continuously testing us. Yunnan never let us loose faith, and always seemed to know just when to throw in some encouragement to keep up motivated.

…Unfortunately we were usually thrown right back into the Yunnan reality a bit quicker than one might would have preferred. As soon as we got too relaxed, the road disappeared. Literally.


When China takes your road away…


…you kind of have to find yourself a new one

Great views are great. But on the top of passes, it’s even better when you actually get to see them. Or anything at all for that matter.


So much easier with these guys!

The toughest times we had were all in the first half of our ride. Things cleared up and soon we actually started noticing that the cycling was enough of a challenge all in itself. The topography of this region is at times incredible demanding on a loaded bike. The hills are steep. And many. Actually, hills are all there is. You’re either going down at great speeds, or up in complete snail speed. And as the equation reveals, you’re in all likelihood climbing during 9 out of 10 given moments.


We passed Pu’er & went through one of Chinas big tea production regions


…and camped accordingly


Well, don’t ask me about the clog. Ritzo claims it’s super functional…

Believe it or not, but we did keep moving south, making good speed. Every day nature took big steps. Banana trees, sugar canes, pomelos, coconuts, tea & coffee plantations. Not to mention all those fruits and plants we didn’t even know the name of. Amazing is the word.


A very welcome addition to everyday life on the road


Christmas started coming around the corner…


…and we officially crossed the Tropic of Cancer! Wow.


The big day arrived!


And so did we, reaching the Laos border just on time.

Three months. Between 5 & 6 thousand kilometers. China. That this humongous country actually could come to an end? Crazy thought. I was more than ready for it though. Not so much because I wanted to get out of there. More that by now I really wanted to step into something new.

And I really would. Starting off this great new chapter of cycling Southeast Asia.

But before doing that, I’d just cross the border in style (anything for the Christmas spirit, right?).

I’d leave my bike. And then.

Then I’d head off to find my family.

Until next time,

Fredrika

By |January 24th, 2016|Asia, Travel Logs|

Tibetan Plateau Pt. 3 – Back to Earth

Long time no see! More than a month has passed since my last post, and a lot has happened. By now China is a finished chapter. The year of 2015 is as well. Writing this it seems like such a long time ago since I was making my way down the Tibetan mountains. Though for the sake of chronology, I’ll give you a short recap of what the whole thing looked like.

Less words, more photos. Here we go.

Somewhere in the 2nd half of November, trees made their first reappearance in my life. After weeks completely without vegetation the first ones popping up on the hillsides felt like a huge sign of progress. But just as much of a warning for that my dreamy mountain life would soon come to its inevitable end.

Quickly a few trees here and there turned into thick mountainous forests.

Though the landscape was changing rapidly and I had now crossed into my third province Sichuan, I was still totally in Tibetan area.

Obviously going downhill opens up for quicker changes than going when going up. But one of those ‘descent-days’ I definitely consider to be one of the crazier ones I’ve experienced. From waking up with frozen water bottles, I just hours later found myself standing next to cultivated fields in nothing but a t-shirt wondering what had happened.

I realize that this might not sound too exciting. But trust me, then and there it was. And if you had been there with me, I’m pretty sure you would think the same.

So. A few days of downhill, getting rid of a bunch of layers of clothing and that was it? Fortunately not. Though the plateau was officially over, the mountain life wasn’t. Between me and my final province Yunnan, were still some serious passes which would turn out to be some of my favorite ones ever.


These numbers are starting to feel a bit absurd…

Bad roads make for slow speeds. But more importantly a sky rocketed feeling of adventure. And after the silk smooth tarmac roads I’d been riding all through China, getting a bit dusty was just what I was looking for.


Views of this kind…


…are simply best enjoyed after having had to work for them

I kept peddling, and the big passes kept outshining each other. Until I was standing on the top of the very last one. Yet again thinking that this might be the most gorgeous view I’d ever laid eyes on. Maybe it wasn’t, but for sure it was the most beautiful sight I’d earn in a very, very long time.

This was it – I was going down. Not necessarily for good, and I surely had a lot of climbing ahead. The thing though was that I’d be climbing hills in comparison. After this, my next true mountain experiences would be continents away.

When you’re headed for the next one, it’s easy to get going and head down from a pass like this. But when you’re not. When you’re just going down.

How in the world can you stay up there long enough?

Forever tailwinds,

Fredrika

By |January 14th, 2016|Asia, Travel Logs|