Carry on Kiruna

Sunday morning brought a somewhat leisurely start to the day seeing as Saturday night was the first night in 2 that I'd actually slept in a bed. We made breakfast, packed up the car and then it was Jun at the wheel for the journey towards... well, we weren't really sure where... Gällivare, maybe...

But first we'd promised ourselves a little stop in Gammelstad, a few clicks outside of Luleå. This is a church village - it has some 400 odd (ok - 424 - I confess, I looked it up on the internet) little wooden houses huddled around an early 15th century stone church.  The houses were used only on Sundays and religious festivals to house pilgrims and worshippers from the surrounding countryside who could not return home the same day because of the distance and the difficult travelling conditions. 

We spent a bit of time mucking around enjoying our first real taste of snow (for this trip) before heading up into the main part of town to have a bit of a look at the church. This was just gorgeous, a real quaint little church, and we took heaps of photos. And not just of the church, of absolutely everything. I saw a lady pulling her kids on a sled, so that got a pic. The houses got pics. Messages in the snow got pics. It was a photographers haven... But what happens when you spend a few hours out in the cold and the snow, after several cups of coffee in Luleå beforehand? That’s right, you need a potty stop. 

The problem was though, that being Sunday morning, nothing was open. Nada. Now it’s ok for you fellas, you can just whip behind a tree or something, but us ladies? When the snow is thigh-deep? Bare bottom up in the air? Ain’t gonna happen...

So we had to cut short our time in Gammelstad somewhat and head back to the highway. Fortunately 20 or 30 clicks down the road we came across a rest stop - a petrol station with a fast food joint attached. There was no toilet in the petrol station (or at least I couldn't see one), but one in the fast food restaurant, so I thought I should do the honourable thing and purchase something before using the facilities. I went up to the counter and ordered a coffee, and was given a cup. I asked the price and the woman looked at me increduously. “Free”, she said. Pardon? A free coffee in a restaurant - with no other purchase? So I ask again - “Free” she insists. I asked if I needed to pay for the toilet. “Free” was the response. I was beginning to think that this was the only English word she knew, and was going to ask her for a burger (“free?”) - but I then I saw someone paying and decided not to push my luck.

We then bundled back into the car and continued north. It was at times quite hard going, as the road was extremely icy, and pretty slippery in spots. Fortunately the hire car was fitted with winter tyres, which are studded, so that helped. We found that we were making quite good distance and time, so once we got to Gällivare mid-afternoon, and saw there was nothing to do there, we decided to press on for Kiruna.

Kiruna is Sweden’s northernmost city, and is a good base to see Lappland from. It’s a mining town (Iron Ore) and this brings with it it’s own set of problems; namely subsidence, so in 2004 it was decided to relocate the centre of town. This relocation started November 2007. Now I know I’ve gone all heavy on you and given a load of facts - but this is important for my next blog about the Ice Hotel.

Anyway, we rocked up to the HI hostel in Kiruna and were most shocked and alarmed to discover they are fully booked. Like, fully. No room at all. So we headed off for the only other hostel in town, Yellow House, and discovered, alas, that they are fully booked too. What to do? It’s now 7.30 at night, there are no other major towns nearby... then the guy remembered that there is one room where the guests haven’t checked in yet - and he phoned them - and their flight has been cancelled and they can’t get there, so sorry for them, so happy for us - so we got the room! Complete with our own TV and cute little kitchen, thank you very much.

After cooking up a bit of dinner we decided, even though it was cloudy, to head out and look for northern lights. We mucked around the town centre for a bit, more cool photos with the ice sculptures we found there, then headed off to the train station to see about changing our return train to Stockholm. En route we came across a park with more cool ice sculptures - so more photos.

Mucking around with the Ice Sculptures in Kiruna town centre

Jun and I with the 'Lady of Kiruna'

Waiting for a bus...

Kiruna has one of Sweden’s largest wooden buildings, in the shape of it’s church, so we decided to go and have a look at it. We got to the driveway and started to set up our tripods for photos and stuff, when suddenly, Jun hit a patch of slippery ice and next thing we knew, it was A over T and he was down! It was like something out of a Carry On film!  He cut himself just above his left eye (so lucky not to poke his eye out) and man, there was quite a bit of blood! So we headed back to the car, as there is a first aid kit there - but it was empty - so we had to ask the hostel guy for some antiseptic or a band aid or something.  Off he went, to the depths of the hostel (well the back room), rummaged around, and produced - the world's dodgiest band aid!  This thing looked like it had been around for Neanderthal man, or something (come to think of it, the hostel guy kinda looked like Neanderthal man, so maybe...?).  

Fortunately the cut wasn’t so deep, so no hospital journey was required, but that was definitely enough excitement for one evening, so we packed it all up and called it a day.

Rock on Ice Hotel tomorrow! 

Do You Need Sheets?

So we arrived in Luleå mid afternoon on Saturday 16th Feb, and the first problem was that the bus to the city was leaving in 10 minutes and the luggage still hadn't come out. Once it finally did, the bus had left, and the next one was some 3 or 4 hours later! The original plan though had been to hire a car for the next few days - but you know how expensive hire companies at the airport can be... What was our alternative though? Taxi into town? But how far is it, and how much will it cost? So we checked around the hire companies anyway and luckily found one which still had cars (the other one was fully booked!). Biting the bullet, we hired it. The cost wasn't sooo bad...

The guy gave us the keys and a map, and we were off. Jun, my mate from Singapore, drove first, and we headed into town in search of a hostel (and a much needed shower!) We eventually found one, checked in, and then was about to pay our money when the dude asked that all important question, "Do you need sheets?"

Oh crap! I totally forgot that in Scandinavian youth hostels you have to bring your own sheets, or else you have to hire them. Of course I hadn't packed any (to be fair they're still in Olive's garage with the rest of my stuff) so I of course had to hire them, for the exorbitant price of 65 kronor! 65 kronor?! You could BUY your own sheets for that price! If I'm going to have to pay that in each hostel I stay in on this trip, I might as well have bought a set of 500+ thread count Egyptian cotton sheets for the price! Seriously...

But I had no alternative, I had to hire the sheets. So I pay up and follow the guy to the laundry cupboard from which he produces a set of (fortunately clean) sheets, including a doona cover, a bedsheet and a pillowcase. He then locks the door back up and wanders off... but I noticed that he left the key in the lock accidentally as he left. Lightbulb! I have a cunning plan...

You see, I can't just 'borrow' (aka steal) these hired sheets, as the guy has Jun's information and if he was being pedantic about it, he could cause Jun a lot of problems if I nick the sheets and he notices (seeing as I'm obviously the only one who has sheets to return the next day). So I have to return the sheets. But I could just 'borrow' a fresh set... after all, we'll be back in Luleå on Friday, I know the door code... I could just return them then...

So I go back to my room and wait til the coast is clear. Just as I'm about to make a break for it, some kid from the room next door comes out and starts running up and down the corridor, right in front of the laundry cupboard, making a racket - opportunity missed! So I wait another 30 minutes (after his mum took him away) and when the coast is clear, I quietly, steathily, tiptoe at the speed of light (like Tinkerbell in Hook) across the corridor - whoosh, I swing open the door real quick and fair dive into the cupboard as I can hear someone coming...

Crap! It's dude, plodding up and down the corridor like a sentry at Buckingham Palace! I pray frantically that he doesn't notice the key in the door and lock it up with me in it... (can you imagine that?)... he comes closer, closer... oh no, has he seen the key?

Fortunately the guy is either half cut or blind as a bat, but he misses it, and shuffles off back to the kitchen. It's now or never, I grab the sheets and literally fling myself through the air back to my room in a dramatic ninja-like flailing jump! I make it back to my room just as dude comes out the kitchen again - only this time he must've noticed the laundry door not properly closed as he starts spouting off in Swedish, and banging on the door of the boy next door! I don't know if he knew someone had been in the cupboard, but I suspect he thought the kid had been mucking about in there as when I finally ventured back out later, the door was locked and the key gone... lucky escape for me... phew!

The rest of the night passed without incident, although Jun did say that late in the night he heard someone try to get in our room... might've been dude looking for his stolen sheets...!

The Terminal

"Mos Eisley Spaceport. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villany." So says Obi-Wan Kenobi to young Luke Skywalker in Star Wars: A New Hope - but to be fair he might just as well as have been talking about Heathrow Terminal 3. Every time I have been through that place I never cease to be amazed by the degeneration of the human race on display here. Forget Big Brother, if you want to see how quickly society can turn into a bunch of miscreant whackos, just sit down and look around you next time you're in Terminal 3.

If you can, that is. I last went through Terminal 3 in December and the place was busier than a swarm of flies on a pile of fresh dung. There was absolutely nowhere, not anywhere, to sit - not even a square of floor in a corner! Mal and I had arrived very early (mostly to beat the traffic) in the hope of having a nice, quiet relaxing dinner, maybe a spot of shopping, before our flight to Singapore, but instead it was Bustle City, elbowing your way through crowds, endless queues for even the most menial of things - like a 20 minute wait just to buy a bottle of water. The level of frustration and complete and utter incomprehensible rudeness this brings out in people is just astonishing - people jockeying for position in the hopes of being served that split second sooner, venting their frustration on the equally frustrated and harrassed store clerks - its not pretty. But what do you expect from one of the world's busiest airports 4 days before Christmas?

But today, February 15 - what's so special about that? The fact that it's half term really shouldn't count - as schools all over the country have had their half terms at different times this year. I just don't get it. I mean, I arrived ridiculously early for my flight to Stockholm, thought I could have a nice coffee and maybe a muffin, relax a little in the departure lounge after a hard day at school, leisurely board the plane - and I find that I didn't even have a spare minute to go to the loo! Now a lot of this is due to the absolutely ridiculous security checks and subsequently ridiculously long queues. Look, I understand why they're doing this, but personally I think if you're going to be that picky about your security checks, then you need to open up more counters and put on way more personnel to deal with the volume of people being affected. Oh and while we're at it, look at how many people the waiting area in Terminal 3 can PHYSICALLY hold, and then limit the number of flights taking off from there at any given time. Common sense, people. Come on!

My first pet peeve is the new liquids rule. I had quite a long chat with my friend Jun, who is travelling with me on this trip, about this - and I do take on board the point that you could blow up a plane with a even a small amount of liquid, but how is it that in this day and age the act of placing a small bottle in a plastic bag can take so long? People, come to the airport prepared - either check it in or put it in the plastic bag BEFORE you get to the airport - stop wasting time!

Then there's the scanners. Again, I get the point of them, but seriously, why can't people take off their belts and their jackets LONG BEFORE they get to the front of the queue? It just holds everyone up whilst you dress and undress yourselves... at least now they let you keep your laptop in your backpack, rather than have to remove it...

But now my new, personal favourite, which occurs AFTER passport control (go figure?), is the shoe scan. This is supposedly done by random selection - how is it then that EVERY TIME I go through, I'm 'randomly' selected? What a pile of rubbish! You have to remove your shoes and then place them on a special shoe scanner belt thing, then the chick doesn't even look at them as they go through the machine! And of course, they don't provide enough chairs or space for people to put their shoes back on, so you stand there for ages looking like a complete wally holding your shoes and waiting for Miss Essex girl to hurry up and do her fancy sneakers up so you can do yours...

Anyway, after clearing security, I fought my way through the crowds for my muffin and coffee, battled and bashed (and I hope bruised a few as well) to get a bottle of water (conveniently marked up seeing as there is a captive market for this) and literally ran to my departure gate for Stockholm. Heaven help those who arrived the allotted 2 hours in advance, as opposed to my 3.

Once there I had to rearrange my bag so the stuff I would need for the plane was at easy access (I can't abide those people who, after sitting, staring vacuously into space in the departure lounge, doing nothing) have to hold everyone else up as they get out their crossword, chewie and a bottle of water by standing in the aisle once they find their seats so no one else can pass. It's madness!

They called my row for boarding and off I went. I was halfway down the gangway when I realised that I'd left my coat under my chair in the lounge (wouldn't have got far in -20 without it) and had to go back and get it... luckily it was still there... I swear I'd lose my head if it wasn't screwed on...!

The flight was good but the SAS airhostesses are nothing on the Singapore Airlines ones. I had to wait 20 minutes for the hostie to finish serving up the drinks because she couldn't be bothered to take 2 seconds out to stop what she was doing, wheel the trolley to a position where I could pass, let me go and then resume her work. The hosties on SIA would've done it in a heartbeat.

The flight was fairly uneventful except the lady next to me snored (why me?), then I arrived in Stockholm Arlanda airport at 12.40 am on Saturday. Jun met me at the airport which was nice. Seeing as my flight arrived so late, and bearing in mind how long it takes to get to / from the airport (at least 1 hour by bus) - and the cost! this is Sweden after all - coupled with the fact that we would have to leave our hostel rather early the next day to be in time for our flight to Luleå, we decided to find a cosy lounge and bunk down at the airport. We found we weren't the only ones with this idea, and we had to walk around the Terminal to Sky City shopping area before we found a space at Alfredo's restaurant. We settled in and went off to sleep. It wasn't so bad actually, the airport was a bit noisy but with my ear plugs in I could almost cope.

Next morning we woke early, washed up at McDonalds, had a bit of breakfast, wandered around the shops, killed a lot of time, had coffee etc before making our way to the domestic terminal for our flight to Luleå.

I had spent a total of some 16 or so hours in various airport terminals, and boy was I sick of it... Tom Hanks eat your heart out!

Swimming With The Dugongs

Warning: this post may cause offense for those of us who have struggled and continue to struggle with their weight. I am sympathetic, but I couldn't resist poking a bit of fun at these people. If you find this offensive, I apologise. I actually have a lot of admiration for these women because at least they are trying to do something.

Right, from the outset I need to say that I won't be winning any awards for this title as it isn't PC at all. Sorry for that, to be honest I was originally going to call it 'Swimming with the Sharks' but I've already used that title once befre, and also, to be fair, dugong is a much more accurate description - and no, I don't mean just because of their size, but because they are just SO SLOW. As are the people I'm about to describe.

But first, I need to give you a bit of background. And actually, this is a bit related to the dugong too - in relation to me. See, since Christmas I have somewhat seriously struggled with my weight. You know how it goes, a few extra kilos go on at Christmas, and usually by early January I manage to offload a few of these. Not this year, however, for many reasons too involved to go into here. Suffice to say I have been somewhat unhappy about all this, so I decided to bite the bullet and head off down to Westcroft for a bit of a swim sesh, in the hopes that this extra baggage might be relegated to the junk pile. Therefore, having checked the swim times, I was delighted to discover a "women's only" session on Sunday night at 6pm. So off I trot, togs in hand, ready for a bit of a workout.

The first workout was with the door to the locker. Westcroft has gone down a lot since I last used it, and they don't seem to have had any regular maintenance on their lockers in the swim area for some time. I had terrible trouble actually finding one that would stay closed, and then when I did, the stupid thing wouldn't open again! Then, when I went to get changed, I was hard pressed to find a door with a lock! I have to say I couldn't, so I had to get changed whilst doing desperate ninja like moves to keep the door closed - not a pretty sight. But eventually I got sorted, and off I went to the pool.

Prior to tonight, every time I've been swimming I've wished that I had prescription goggles. It's such a pain trying to look up at the board to see how long you've been in the pool (I lose interest in exercising very quickly and find myself peering at the board, willing the minute hand on so that I can say I've done half an hour and get out of there), or trying to avoid collision with others in the pool (as nearly happened tonight, when I misread the lane swimming direction sign and was on a sure fire head on collision path with another lady in the pool, narrowly managing to miss her at the last minute as she loomed into vision). But actually tonight, I was glad I didn't have prescription goggles. This is because I think if I had've had them, I'd've been blinded.

I can understand that women of a certain size or shape might prefer a woman's only swimming sesh as they might be self conscious about their size, I mean, hey, I am. But that should transcend into what type of swimwear you use. And there's no doubt about it, women of a certain size or shape should not be wearing skimpy costumes. There's just no need for it, ladies, the 'muffin top' look is not a fashion statement, you are not on "Kath and Kim" and really, you should just put it away. All of it.

Anyway, I endeavoured to turn a blind eye to the mounds of flesh floating around me, and to be fair, that's really all they were doing - I was in the fast lane and I had to wait for the lady in front of me to practically reach the other end before I took off, or I would easily overtake her. And it's not like I'm a fast swimmer or anything - although, not wanting to blow my own trumpet, but I was 'Most Improved Swimmer' 1982 at Windsor State School, and I have been known on more than one (ok, ok, I admit it - several) occasions to kick some serious you-know-what-starting-with-an-a-and-rhyming-with-ask in the breaststroke - but you know, when someone is swimming at the speed of a dugong, it would take a miracle NOT to overtake them. My question therefore is, if there is a 'slow', 'medium' and a 'fast' lane - what the blazes sort of speed are they doing in the slow lane? I mean, these women make Eric Moussambani look like Ian Thorpe!

Anyway, I continued with my stop-start swimming, wondering if I would ever get my heart rate up, and then it happened. The women's only session ended and lickety-split, literally SECONDS later, a bloke who no joke looked like Kim Beazley but with less hair, and in a pair of DT's no less, appears and stands proudly to attention at the end of the pool, surveying the expanse of white whale-like flesh, before doing a spectacular belly flop into the pool in an attempt to look all manly and er, appealing. I'm sure this is the most female attention this bloke would've had all week, and such a shame that it was wasted - because no sooner had he got in, than a whole heap of women vacated his lane and literally flew to the other side of the pool and made a big circle, starting some sort of strange aqua aerobics type thing (which to be honest looked more like an extremely poor impersonation of Michael Jackson's moonwalk!).

This was therefore my cue to take my leave of the pool, wrestle again with the lockers and changing rooms... I mean, I couldn't really continue doing laps with Kim oogling me, now could I? A lucky escape...

Sweeney Todd - The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Tonight I went to see Sweeney Todd, starring Johnny Depp, with my friend Laura from church.  We braved the mingingness of the Sutton UCI (well, actually now its Sutton Empire or some crap like that) over the mingingness of Croydon Vue cinemas at Purley Way.  Every time I've been to the Croydon cinema I've had to wade my way through various bits of litter, rubbish and so on, make sure I find a seat that actually has a seat cushion (and that actually stays on the seat) then endure the noisiness and immaturity of the audience (who are usually teenagers of a certain ilk, you know the type I mean, the ones who aren't really there to watch the movie but who are there to create havoc).  I would love to say that Sutton Empire was much much MUCH better than that - but unfortunately I can't.  The seats, whilst they are on a graded incline, have obviously been designed by a giraffe, as I was flat out seeing over the seat back of the person in front of me.  Couple this with then trying to see over his head, and well... was I at 'Mission Impossible'?

The cushions had become detached from the seats, so you spent much of your time balanced on one buttock, craning your neck to see the screen.  Heaven help you if you are startled during a particularly scary bit, you'll fall fair off your chair!  Actually that did happen to me when Sweeney Todd slashed his first victim's throat, I jumped from the shock, and having unfortunately chosen that exact moment to have a sip from my drink the bloke in front was nearly wearing my diet coke!  I then performed a wierd sort of trapeze artist maneouvre and managed to regain my balance on the other buttock, but the experience left me slightly shaken.  Luckily I am actually very adept at balancing myself precariously on one buttock.  I don't know why but I suspect it has something to do with my netball playing days, when during one particular nailbiter with our team Nafai (No Ability, F@*% All Interest) - or maybe it was with the Pumbas, I can't remember - but anyway, I developed cramps in not one but both buttocks simultaneously, and had to be half dragged off the court (as no-one could actually carry me - this was in my more heavy days). Since then I have been doing regular butt-clenching exercises to strengthen that muscle, and I now have buns of steel (well, I wish... but 'picking up a button' doesn't really cut it...for those ladies who are familiar with THAT type of exercise! ).

The good thing about this cinema though was that we didn't have the "Croydon Hoodies" with us, so it meant that we actually got to watch the film.  I have to say, I actually enjoyed this film (well as much as one can 'enjoy' a Jack the Ripper style serial killing blood-fest).  The best bit about this movie was the music by Stephen Sondheim.  That man is pure genius when it comes to intensely emotional and gloriously soaring melodies, coupled with extremely witty lyrics and an artist's palette of orchestral colour and texture.  His melodies don't follow the norm at all, you can't second guess at all where they're going, as he goes through wondrously unusual chord progressions, but when he gets there, it all makes perfect sense.  Truly my favourite pieces would have to have been "The Worst Pies In London", "Johanna" and "Pirelli's Miracle Exilir".  I left the cinema and immediately had to buy the soundtrack on iTunes, it was so good (although I now have to blog about the perils of iTunes because hey, I paid for the music - why can't I use it in the format I need, and why can't I copy it to other devices (like my Zen - does the whole world have to own an iPod?) - but that's for another time).  

I've read some reviews about Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, and I have to say, I thought their singing was just magnificent.  Exactly the right sort of accent, tone and character for the individual pieces.  I thought they were brilliant.  And Alan Rickman, with his dry, wry tone, exactly what was required,  was just fabulous...

So I attach for you the trailer...

Anyway, if you haven't seen it, please do, you won't regret it.  Just don't eat a meat pie beforehand...

It Sucks To Be Me

To quote a song from my favourite musical, Avenue Q, that is.  Right now, it "Sucks to Be Me".

Why?  Because I still haven't found anywhere to live.  I am absolutely, totally, categorically sick to death of spending hours trawling the internet, newspapers, lettings agents, and so on, in search of a flat.  Now don't get me wrong, I'm not out on the streets - I'm staying with the Officers at Sutton and their family, which is just lovely.  They have made me feel extremely welcome and at home and a real part of the family, and I will be forever grateful to them for their kindness.  And they say can I stay as long as I need to, so there's no real rush to move out - but the commute to school is a bit of a drag because the traffic is absolutely diabolical at times.  A journey which should take me 40 minutes max, has been taking sometime an hour and a half!  Except on a Friday, which for some strange reason seems to be relatively clear.  I have my own theory about this - I think that either a lot of people take long weekends, or they leave their cars at home so as to be able to go out after work.  I don't know, I haven't tried the train on a Friday to see if its any more packed than ever.

But I digress.  It sucks to be me.

It really does!  It sucks to be me!  It sucks to spend hours on the internet, phone, email etc looking for a flat, going and checking it out, and finding out that for £390 a month ($858) you can rent - drum roll please - a box!  Albeit an apparently 'furnished' box - yes, it had a bed, but no wardrobe, no drawers, no nothing.  To be fair, there wasn't any room for anything but the bed.  And it didn't even include bills!

And there's really no point looking at anything more expensive, I just can't afford it.  I actually started off looking at some cheaper rooms and for the life of me, I can't work out how these people come up with their prices.  For example, for £300 / month I could rent a King size room, bills included (and internet!), all in the right area - but the problem with that place was simply that it was a dump.  The hallway, living room, stairwell - all cluttered with the landlord's stuff, the bathroom dingy, bathroom cabinet complete with door hanging off its hinge - but the piece di resistance was the kitchen.  I wouldn't let my dog eat food that had been cooked in there!  It was the dirtiest, most unhygenic place I've ever seen!  Suffice to say that place was a big no...

Then there was the rabbit warren, £350 including bills, where the room I would rent was I guess a double room, on the ground floor - but the bathroom, kitchen and living areas were down in the basement, a right hovel!  And there were 4 people living there, all about 5 years old (you know what I mean) - so that was a no too.

And I could go on, but to be honest, its just too depressing.  So again, tomorrow, I will be out there, hitting the streets of London in search of the elusive flat... maybe I should try Avenue Q...