Strawberry picking in Norway

Sara & I decided to go fruit picking in Norway, mainly on a whim.  We had heard from a friend that it was not only possible but also could be good money.
Having  no money, we decided to hitchhike there. The easiest way was to hitch to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne and take a ferry across to Bergen.  When we got there, after many  adventures, (like sleeping on someone's  living room floor in Newcastle.), we found out that it was too expensive.  We hung out at the  docks 1-2 days in the hope of someone offering us a passage. No luck.

We hitch back down to London, spent one night in someone else's living room floor, we made our way to Norway via  Belgium, Holland, Germany, Denmark, Sweden to finally arrive in Oslo early evening.
We met other hitch-hikers who were on their way to celebrate the Berlin Wall coming down, with Pink Floyd performing. However tempted we were, we quickly had to rid ourselves of that idea as we were broke and continue with our original plan of finding work in Norway.
Thinking of sleeping on the floor of the train station,  we found out that the station was closing for the night. Too cold to sleep outside & too broke to sleep in a youth hostel. We were trying to find plan B when a young Somalian/Ethiopian student, called Aabi, overheard us & offered us to stay in his apartment.

The next day, we hopped on a train to the rural areas where we could find fruit picking work.
After a full day of fruitless (no pun intended) search for a job, we were just looking for a place to sleep as it was dark already. The strawberry season had started 2 weeks earlier and all the jobs were taken by Polish workers.
We knocked on a door and eventually the family offered us their living room floor for the night. The next morning, we were told that the grand-father wanted to meet us. He was also living on the land. Despite the fact that he didn't speak much English & us no Norwegian, we had a fun breakfast all 3 of us.  He even gave us a backgammon travel board for the road. To this day, the backgammon game is in Sara's kitchen.
Soon after we were on our way to Bergen.
Photo of Tony, the grand-father.  Egge farm in Lier, Norway. July 1990.

Hawaii

How I ended up in Hawaii is quite a story.

Sara had convinced me to go to Australia with her (I was easily convinced!). Since we were flying from Los Angeles, USA, we took a 4days & 4nights  bus trip from Montreal to LA. Many adventures along the way. We stopped to sleep in Chicago, Las Vegas (but we didn't get much sleep there!) and Denver. Our flight included a 2 days stop-over in Hawaii.

On the plane to Hawaii, we met 2 other Canadian girls. We hooked up. We arrived at the Honolulu's airport quite late and found all the youth hostels and B&B full or not answering their phone.

Our plan of action, was to spend the night at the airport. Meanwhile, all the other tourists were being escorted to an hotel by a hotels rep with a limousine. Pretty soon, all that was left at the airport was us 4.

The rep was adamant in not leaving us at the airport. He gave us such a good deal that could not be refused. He brought us in his limo to an expensive-looking hotel to our own suite with a balcony with a view to a beautiful beach in Waikiki!

The next day, we separated in 2s and hitch-hiked to stunning Waimanolo beach. There we met (thanks to Sara's bad cigarette habit!) 2 local lads who took us to Hanauma Bay beach to snorkle (with their gear) with all those tropical fish  and a promise to take all 4 of us to a local restaurant for brunch the next morning! All free of charge and no strings attached! That evening, we all went to a local discotheque. Partied all night .The next day, I slept like a baby during the entire 6h flight to Fiji! I had never managed to sleep on a plane before that.

Talk about starting a trip well!

This drawing is made by me. More details in my up-coming book.

Hitch-hiking in Europe

Growing up,  I was taught to be scared of hitch-hiking by society in general and, of course, those horror movies like "The Hitch-Hiker".
Therefore the very first time I tried it, I was very scared. It was in Germany, on the outskirts of Cologne, with a "seasonned" friend. She did all the "work".  Gabriele & I also hitched our way to Amsterdam to meet a sweet Swedish friend of mine.

Call me crazy or adventurous but I grew to love it. Yes, I loved it. It was the best way to meet locals and experience the country from the inside.  
I've hitched mainly as a pair. From London ( where I lived at the time.) to Dover &amp back, just for something to do. I was with Carol, my American friend, shown on this photo. We did get to Dover and back to London in just one lift!  The same guy, a TV repairman, he bought us ice-cream in Dover and drove us back all the way uo to our local pub!
Carol & I made a longer trip, hitching to Amsterdam & Germany (visiting friends) & back for a couple of weeks.

With my travel buddy, Sara, we went from London to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, in search of a cheap ferry across to Norway. Not possible, so we hitched back to London. The next day, we made our way to Dover, took the ferry across to Oostende (Belgium) and hitch-hiked all the way to Oslo via Hamburg (Germany), the ferry crossing in Denmark, somewhere on the west coast of Sweden (spent a couple of days with 2 guys that were selling hot-dogs on a Swedish island to drunk pub goers, at closing time.). We finally arrived in Oslo 4-5 days later, exhausted but happy. We hitch-hiked all the way to Bergen. Despite what my Norwegian friends says, we found the Norwegians to be very hospitable.

Along with hitching extensively in Europe, we also did  it  all over the world: in New-Zealand, Gran Canaria (the biggest island of the Canaries),Jamaica, Canada (Ottawa-Montreal) & Hawaii.
By myself, I hitched in Ireland (all over from Clare to Donegal  and into Northern Ireland back to Dublin), South Africa (mainly in Kwa/Zulu-Natal) and Zimbabwe (alone & with a friend).

Sure it's a risky business, but most rewarding. Along the way, we refused a few lifts with dodgy drivers but mostly people are a generous & hospitable lot. Many times, we were offered a roof for the night, food, gifts, a day by a magnificiant Norwegan lake, even a trip! (see my entry called Amal Kabli). I always followed my intuition, no matter how silly it may seems.  Thankfully, nothing bad ever happened along the way.

I must also point out the difference in terminology between North America and English-speaking Europe. A "ride" in Canada is when someone picks you up when hitch-hiking. In the UK, Scotland or Ireland it has a sexual connotation and to mention the same thing one says "lift". I found out the difference the hard way!
I remember a young red-haired Scotish lad on his bike saying to Sara: "I'll give you a ride Baby!"  It was rolling-on-the-ground funny!

I could ramble on for hours, just about my hitch-hiking experiences and if you're curious you can read more details in the book I'm writing.

This photo is of Carol holding up an Europeen phrase book near Aachen, Germany, 1989.

Las Vegas, 1991

Sara and I were going to Australia for 1 year. (minimum!)

Since we were flying from Los Angeles, we took buses from Montreal, Canada, to LA. It was a 5-day trip, full of adventures. We made 3 stop-overs to sleep in a real bed: Chicago, Las Vegas and Denver.

What I want to talk about today is about our stay in Las Vegas. It was day-time when the bus rolled-in town.

Day-time Las Vegas is quite disappointing. No bright lights. The Strip looks quite regular. Nothing like what we see in movies or on TV.

At the Youth Hostel, we met, Klaus, a German who called himself "The Master of the Slot machines". Yes, really. He owned a black old Cadillac, limousine-style.

We spent a wild night, visiting a few casinos, playing with the free money one gets and having a free brunch at 4 AM.

Needless to say, we did not sleep very much that night....

The strangest thing is upon our return to LA, 1 and half years later, we met Klaus again. He was now living in La and had married a Phillipino woman.

New-Zealand

Sorry it's been a while. Lots of excuses but my best excuse is: it's been a crazy last couple of months with all the Birthdays!


New-Zealand:
The first thing that strucked me when I got in the airport is how British it is! The police wear the same ridiculous hats as English bobbies!

But this is not the story I want to relate. You can find out more in the book I'm writing about my 19 years of travel/living abroad.


The South Island is the hippyiest place I've ever been to! Here's a prime exemple.

Sara & I were hitch-hiking , when this old-looking car (see above picture.) stopped. Steven, his friend & Joplin, the dog were offering us a lift. Starting the car was not done with a key, but a kitchen knife!

It turns out they were living on this commune & offered us a bed & to stay as long as we wanted! Sweet!

Our bed was in an old abandonned VW van in the field. Steven's was a tree-house! A whole community of young Kiwis lived on this self-sufficiant farm/commune. They had cows & with that they made milk, yogurt & butter. They grew everything, from garlic, all sorts of fruits, veggies, wheat (which they grind to make bread!), everything I say! You name it, they were growing it.

There was a kitchen and everyone made dinner, each had their turn. to cook for everyone else.

It was like that all week, til Friday, when they'd go into town. Get their dole money, get pissed all weekend. On Sunday, they would return and do the same thing again.
After 3-4 days, we moved on.

Our budget was extremely restricted, so we had to hitch-hike everywhere, from North to South Island. We found the general Kiwi population very friendly and welcoming. Turns out, the Canadian flag on our backpacks was helping us a great deal.

On the photo is: me, Steven, Sara & Joplin, the dog. 1991

Sons of the Desert

I was looking for a pic of them but have none, so I found this unrelated pic of a Rye bottleshop in England.

This is a band that I discovered (actually someone brought me to see them!) back in March or April 1989.

It's the kind of band that if you feel blue, you go see them and you feel great! They were playing every Sunday at Elephant & Castle pub in London.

There were 5 members and many instruments. Most played more than one instruments. There was the fiddle, saxophone, guitar, bass, bohdran (Irish drum), trompette and the electric mandoline. I'm probably forgetting an instrument or 2. The members were: Steven, the Yorkside lad (with the thickest accent I've ever heard back then!) who played the bass; Jim the guitarist; Joseph, from Belfast who played the fiddle & the saxophone; Tracy, played the bohdran, the trompette & had a magnificient voice and, finally, Ewan, the ever-so-excentric leader of the band, played the electric mandoline like Jimmy Hendrix played the guitar and also lead singer.

At first 3 of us went religiously to see them every Sunday, then soon, almost the whole of The Pembridge came along. The word spread out quickly!

After a few months, I was going to Ireland and went with 2 Irish (also fans of the band.) who were visiting family. They were going to see SOTD playing in Salthill, close to Galway. I came along only to find out that they were opening for The Pogues! (A major Irish band, quite popular in Europe) I went to the after party. The next morning, I was asked if I had any set plans. I said "no" and was promptly invited to tour with them! I quickly learned that the life of a touring musician is not glamorous: driving to next town, sound check, guig, after-party (maybe), driving to next town and so on! It was just a 5-day tour, Thank God! Their manager was telling everyone that I was his assistant! I was very lucky to see the "insides" of a band.

I found out about 1 year ago, that Ewan & Tracy got married and moved to France. The SOTD is still alive. You can find out more about them (and hear them!) at : Sons of the Desert

Ruby In The Dust

The restaurant started life in the basement of The Pembridge Hotel in 1989. It was runned by 2 young South Africans: Anton and Jonatan.

I was part of the cleaning-before-opening process and started as a waitress. I made a poor waitress. After a tiff, I was quickly put Head of salad bar kitchen. That was a lot of work but also a lot of fun. I was in charge of making the cold starters, the desserts and the drinks. The ever-changing dishwasher was also with me.

Nine years later, I found myself in South Africa. I was in desperate need of work (read: money) and I heard that Anton had opened a Ruby-in-the-Dust in Capetown. By now it was a music venue and a bar with pool tables. I found myself serving drinks to young Capetownians while listenning to local bands. Some great, some good and some very bad.

Soon it was decided to open a small pizza place on the top floor, in the back. We sold home-made individual pizzas, all made from scratch, including the dough. My pizzas soon became popular and known as the "Helen Special". Toppings: pineapple (fresh), garlic, hot peppers and mushrooms.

A very basic bar/music venue but the local place to hip young Capetownians of all walk of life. I made some great friends and heard some brilliant music. It closed whenever there wasn't enough people left: 2AM, 3AM, 4 AM.

It was in Capetown that I turned the big 3-0.

This photo is of the bar with Nohoko, after hours. (early morning)