That's it?

It's the strangest feeling, going home after three months away. Three months in itself isn't long at all, I realize that, but trying to process all the memories, experiences and emotions of the trip, I find myself overwhelmed. There are just too many! (I now wish I had been better at writing my journal daily instead of just at random inspirational spurs)I don't really feel sad to go home, rather just looking forward to my next adventure and exploring more of the world. Because, the more you see of it, the more you realize how little you've seen! (The more you know, the less you understand sort of thing...)

To cap up the last few days in Vietnam, they were pretty much spent on a beach in Mui Ne. I had a go at kite surfing, but unfortunately the wind didn't want to play ball and gave us sudden gusts of hope only to drop away completely. So, I worked on my tan, read books, and enjoyed the holiday 'exotiques' of palm trees and eating breakfast out.

Quite the culture shock coming back to Europe. Having almost 7 hours to kill in Paris CDG airport before my flight to Oslo, I try to conclude the trip in my head, but my mind wanders over to the exciting activity of people watching. I look at them, and they look back at me, obviously jealous of my tan. (That was a joke. Sort of...) Luckily I only have to endure the trivials of city life for one week before i run off to Chamonix for a month of SSS (serious soul searching) in the french mountains. Tough life!

So, in lack of a better ending (cause this really isn't the end at all), hope to see you all following the next time Minsteminsten goes on a new adventure! Maybe I'll blog a little from Cham, or is that just cruel? I mean, who wants to READ about spring powder skiing and beer drinking?

Thanks for reading guys! We need to go back to harvesting rice now...

From 0 to 100

Rice-wine-happy, I am telling you, in confidence, that I am falling in love with Vietnam more and more every day. After surviving the hassle of Hanoi, party-trip to Halong Bay (let's never speak of it again), and the over-priced tailors in Hoi An, I am now undertaking a five-day trip to the south on the back of a motorbike with my guide, Van Nam. This is the real Vietnam! No more 'You buy, you buy!!!', only friendly smiles, and curious looks at this blonde, blue-eyed giant. Kids are running after the motorbike, minority tribes are welcoming in showing their ways of life, and LIFE is wonderful!

All the experiences are carefully recorded in my journal, and the memories are made immortal with my camera. To tell you the most important parts, we are driving along the Ho Chi Minh Road, finalized in 2005, in memory of the trail made by approximately 4 million soldiers trekking from the north to the south during the Vietnam war. The american war is still the darkest part of Vietnamese history, and is also today clearly visible in the country, people and landscape. Much of the land is not possible to agriculture, as it seeps with poison from Napalm and other evils spread across the land. Many cities have been rebuilt, but the war is still close in peoples minds, and visiting Vietnam one becomes very sympathetic. The hero of the country, Ho Chi Minh, (a strong figure of communism), is still celebrated in every town, flag and portrait of Vietnamese people, and not being prejudice at all, the Americans killed around 7 million vietnamese (according to certain sources), and never even declared war on Vietnam.

Along the Ho Chi Minh trail, of the 4 million soldiers, 3-3,5 million of them died along the way. Lack of nutrition, malaria, american bombs. Many of the are still MIA. It is a very special part of the history in this country, and I feel very privileged to take, if only, a small part in it. My part is to learn, and tell my family and friends at home about it. Because, to be honest, before I came to Vietnam, I didn't know what the cause of the war is. Now I know its casualties.

Not meaning to get too serious, but Vietnam is still coloured by invading forces, and amazingly enough, stands stronger than ever.

We still have far to go to Dalat, our final destination, and tomorrow is a new and exciting day. We are nearing the end of the highlands and war-zone, and this means happier blogging from now on.

Time flies! I can't imagine that in 8 days I will be sitting on an Air France flight back home. My feet will already be running back out by the time I hit the doorstep...

Rice...

Ruins after the Cham people

Crossing the river

Ho Chi Minh Trail

Old lady, she only had one tooth!

Vietnamese landscape

Culture lesson # 2: Driving in Vietnam

Whoever honks the loudest has the right of way.

Hanoi-oi-oi-oi

No news is good news as they say, and sometimes it's nice to pack your computer at the bottom of your bag, and soak up all the memories just for yourself to keep. I'll give you a little glimpse into my Oz-experience with the following key words: surf, sun, beer, love, life :)

It took around 30 hours of booooring travelling, and arriving in Hanoi I was trying my best to brace myself. The sharks threw themselves at me like dead fish but I politely and confidently said no, booked a hostel over phone and found my way to the minibus service I had read was scam-free. Such was not the case, and long story short, blonde girl crying in front of 10 screaming taxi drivers makes them extremely uncomfortable. So a few tears later, safely arrived at the hostel, I am now taking a little breather to further tackle, (and hopefully change my first impression), Vietnam. A few days in Hanoi, then up to Sapa in the mountains, and then follow the stream to Halong Bay.

Wish me luck! (And I'll try to keep the crocodile-tears and quiver-lip under control)

Down under

Just a short post to tell everyone that I have safely arrived in the big OZ! Leaving New Zealand sucked, especially since it means that one more chapter of my travels are over; time is going by too fast! Got to Melbourne and ran into the girls straight away! Kristine and Charlotte are here for an exchange semester from Markedshoyskolen in Oslo, lucky girls! We actually had one of those run-scream-hug-everyone-looks-at-us-like-we're-crazy that girls tend to do sometimes, and I was just so happy to see someone from home! Melbourne seems like a great city as well, and today we are headed for the beach for some serious frying with SPF 50+!

The girls are going to pay for their appartment, but just want to play with the cash first :)

Maja, Heidi, Jules og Kristine

Rippon baby :)

After a lot of hussle and bussle, I finally managed to secure tickets to Rippon for Nayara and me. I had heard about the festival from people I met up in Japan, and of course I had to go, especially to make them jealous :) It was a friggin' hot day, and the sun seemed like it didn't want to miss out on the action, never hiding behind any cloud at all. We hydrated ourselves with beer and water (mostly beer) and danced the day away! When the sun finally set behind the mountains, the temperature cooled down, but the party was hotter than ever! (cheesy, I know...) Fat Freddy's Drop was one of the main attractions, and a band I recommend all of you back home to check out! Ch-ch-ch-check it!

I can fly!

I thought my Kiwi-experience would be adrenaline-packed, and I would do all the things mom told me not to. But there are certain limitations when it comes to these types of adventures, and it's called pesetas. A skydive is around 400 NZD, which turns out to be approx. 6,5 dallahs per second of freefall. Expensive seconds to say the least.

A paraglide was the other option, and gives you about 20 minutes of flying for less than half the price of a skydive. You don't get to throw yourself out of an airplane at 15,000 feet, have your mouth flopping around and all your saliva hitting your pilot in the face, do a couple of frontflips and all the other boooring stuff that a skydive includes, but at least with paragliding you do get to enjoy the view. And to be honest, you could hurt yourself paragliding as well, so I might have felt a tiny bith of a rush hanging 1000 meters above the ground attached to a wing with nothing but what looks like very thin lines. Your life is litterally hanging by a thread (or 50).

Dan, a guy from the hostel, takes off solo

Richard and I, my flying-buddy

Nayara takes off!

You've gotta take one of these pictures :)

We can fly!