It’s only a matter of a few miles, in fact the country shares a border with it. But, whereas Estonia seems to have broken free and become rather westernized – in its own way – Latvia still seems to have Russia firmly attached to it.

Point number one is the roads.  Now Estonian roads are nothing to be proud of, but atleast they only provide a few (albeit continuous) vibrations they do not require you to swerve halfway across the road to miss a pothole through which you could probably see the internal goings-on of the world. It’s like a joke that has gone too far.

Another thing you may have noticed is the lack of Internet hotspots.  We have gone from a land that is completely full of places to connect to; petrol stations, parks, campsites even town squares and all of them handily sign-posted – to a land where we have so far passed one sign indicating that there was a hotspot available, only the cards we needed to buy to get access to the Internet were not in stock, nor had been for months.

Latvia seems to have come on little since the days of the USSR.  One noticeable difference is the currency.  For the first time on our trip, and I believe also for last, the currency is more valuable than that of the British Pound.  It isstrange not having to devide everything by 10 (Sweden) or 18 (Estonia) and instead having to times everything by 1.12.

This had caused us slight worry – wondering whether prices were going to reflect the strong currency.  Yet our arrival heralded a different story. Passing a petrol station (where many drivers will get an idea of how much things are) we saw a sign advertising fuel for just 0.60Lats for Diesel. After a quick fill up, which led to the only smile from me on the whole of the Latvian roads experience, we headed down to our stellplatz.

We passed small farmsteads and villages that could barely pass as such for mile after mile.  Not only does very little look as if it had changed since the USSR it looks as if nothing has changed for many centuries before this.

Unlike many Western European towns – where this lack of change would be seen as quaint – in Latvia it seems like a disease to which no answer has been found, windowless and roofless dwellings seem as much a part of the landscape as forests and lakes did in Scandinavia.

Upon reaching the outskirts of Riga we headed towards our supposed destination and rest place for the night.  Which didn’t exist.  At all, we drove for a few kilometres before stopping to check at another cheap fuel station, then drove back the 20 kilometres to where the woman had suggested it would be, only to find another fuel station where the woman had no idea, instead asking a man who, had he smoked, could have probably lit his breath on fire with the amount of alcohol he already had in his system – he, unsurprisingly had no idea where our place was, nor where he was as he clambered back into his clapped out Audi, with another bottle of strong cider clutched in his hand.

We also haven’t gotten rid of the rain yet, it has been following us since we decided to move off from Estonia.

We eventually abandon plan A and go for plan B, another stellplatz, back the way we had just gone whilst getting lost – atleast we had seen this place already.

Now I don’t know about you, but when you order food and it comes out of the invisible kitchen and looks better than you thought it also seems to taste better. And when my steak with field mushroom sauce and french fries appeared on the table I honestly thought it could be the meal of the gods.

One thing going for Latvia is that even late at night, when you are absolutely shattered and have been unable to find anywhere, the place you do find is pleasant and the chef can cook an awesome meal, I mean it is 11pm and there seems to be no end to the food service, nor the German folk music coming out of the speakers on the small stage in the corner.  Luke and I are worried that another Karaoke night may be happening shortly, linger around just long enough for a glorious ice cream and head back to the van.

The two and a half litre heart of our van never starts first time, it is a precise calculation to get the clutch in, and the gas pedal in the perfect position before the old girl finally roars into life.  It is a practice that Luke and I have been doing since we broke down in Sweden, but one that still cause us a little agitation and worry.

We left Tallinn on a perfectly Sunny day and headed south, our first stop was to be in a large campsite, bury deep in the forests that shroud that west coast of this small nation.

From there we are headed to Parnu, a port town, sitting in its own natural bay with an impressively wide river running right through it.

The roads in Estonia are most probably not this country’s greatest accomplishment, nor is the reserved nature of most people and the way that they stare – but that may have to do with the fact that we are driving a bright red van, with British number-plates and that the driver is sat on the wrong side, not to mention the fact that the “LDV Convoy” badge is hardly ever seen by most Europeans.

We found out though that this reserved nature and staring is not all that Estonian townsfolk are about.

An evening hunt for a meal led us into a small restaurant, sitting just below ground level, though with an appetising menu and full tables.

Our entrance was noted by a tall man in beige, beige trousers, beige shirt, beige sandals.  We have – to this day – no idea if he was actually connected in any way to the restaurant, yet he motioned us towards a table near the bar and delighted in telling us that his step father was from an unpronounceable place in Wales.  Eventually, after some careful listening and countless repetitions we found out that it was Aberystwyth, see totally unpronounceable!

We were then served up a cup of tea (well we are English, so it was only natural to give the English people tea) and waited for the menu’s to arrive.

Which is where it all went wrong.

A group of men, probably about late 30′s, all wearing the typical leather jackets and jeans, that seems to be a fashion left here from previous days, entered the restaraunt.

The younger of the men walked over to the centre table and picked up a microphone.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen we had found ourselves a karaoke night.

This seems to be the latest craze  – from the ferry across to Tallinn to almost every second bar everyone wants a piece of the action, if only singing lessons had been part of the soviet education program then perhaps Luke and I would be spared this horrific ordeal, for none can sing – of course that’s part of the fun of Karaoke they say.

But what stupendifies me is that these people, whom on the street are so reserved, quiet and usually avoid eye contact, unlike many other European nations, yes these people just walk into a bar and without so much as a sip of a beer are willing to stand up and sing in front of everyone.

Of course it is late now and the chances of getting any food here are growing ever more remote so Luke and I head off in another direction.

Looking round the streets of Parnu gives you an insight into the crazy nation that is Estonia, there is not so many modern buildings as there are in the capital of Tallinn, but just enough that you realise that this is a country on the up.  A few small reminders still linger from years past that are now simply nothing more than quirky reminders of a bygone era – although it is still slightly strange that a “long established business” here still advertises itself as being set up in only 1992, a fact highlighted by Estonia’s oldest pub, the “Hell Hunt – since 1992″

I have fallen in love with Estonia’s weirdness, but you will not see me on the karaoke machine for a few more years… or a few more beers.

Well it is now time to breath some life into our express delivery van, as we are off to Riga, in yet another new country… Latvia.

Yes, travellers always want food.  Any kind of food.  Doesn’t matter what it is  as long as someone else has prepared it and is doing the washing up then we are fine.

So when we were told about a ferry crossing between Sweden and Finland that included an all you can eat breakfast buffet, followed by an all you can eat evening buffet, it did not take us long to decide that this was the crossing for us!

So off we headed for the little “village” of Kappelskar.

When I say village, I mean literally Kappelskar is just the port.  That’s it.  Nothing else really.

But still, we managed to find a campsite, plug in the electric heater and get warm.  And get out of Sweden.

We have nothing against Sweden in general, the country is beautiful, the people welcoming and friendly and we have had a lot of… experiences… it is just that since we have arrived in Sweden we have had nothing but rain, the van has broken down and we had a nightmare trying to find somewhere to stop in the van.  Atleast somewhere that has electric and the waste facilities we needed.

It had felt like we were in Sweden for ages, despite it just being over a week.

Perhaps it was just our timing or perhaps it was just bad karma, what ever it was we were looking forward to our brunch buffet!

Our 8 hour ferry would take us from Sweden, to Nantalli in Finland, just north of Turku – once the capital of Finland.

We had booked a cabin, which had cost us only 20 swedish krona extra and it was well worth the money, within half an hour of boarding Luke and I had showered, eating our own body weight at the buffet and were now fast asleep in our cosy cabin…

Ferry Costs

We travelled with Finnlines from Kappelskar to Nantalli

They have three sailings per day; 09:15, 17:30 and 23:00

The morning ferry is the cheapest, you do not have to book, but turn up early to make sure you can get a place.

Our ticket cost us 1800 SEK, including a 2 person cabin on the inside

After returning the lovely Saab to Sjkovde, picking up the van which is now working (the problem was air in the fuel system).  Oh and a point here, if anyone is ever looking for the diagnostics connection socket for the LDV convoy, it is under the ashtray, you know, the obvious place of course!

So yer after all of that – we headed North a bit more.

We have been using the Couchsurfing.org website for a few meet ups in towns but now it was time for the first official Couch Surf!

Well, we put our requests in and awaited the response.  Larissa was the first person to get back to us.  She told us that we were to bring 200 krona with us and meet in a car park in the town of Borlange….

We were met by Larissa and some people from her wildlife school in the car park and were told to follow them, which is harder than you think when we are sliding around on the gravel roads, literally drifting around some of the sharper corners.

We arrive, with all our bones in tact but nerves a little frayed, in the a little place that calls itself the “Smoking Barrels Camp”  A wild west style hangout for those that like guns basically.

For today, we have become Shotgun Si and Cool Hands Luke, about to enter fearsome battle with a series of metal targets and a timer, armed only with a revolver, a shotgun and a winchester rifle… This was going to be fun!

Each of us took turns to try and hit the targets in the shortest possible time, whih would have been ok had I ever managed to hit the bloody targets!

Still, after much practice and a fair bit of banter I finally cleared each round.

After a sit out around the campfire it was time to head home, which was two hours away!

Larissa, Luke and I spent most of  the rest of that evening eating toast and attempting to explain Lee Evans’ jokes on youtube, cultural difference can sometimes render even the funniest of jokes completely limp!

So – something we never expected to be doing in Sweden – shooting Wild West style, crazy!

Not having our campervan for the weekend did cause a few issues.

Concern number 1 is of course a place to sleep.  We have become to used to just rocking up and parking almost anywhere (in Sweden you may park overnight for free, anywhere with the P sign) and are not ready for the Swedish hostel system where you have to book, using an automated phone line – in Swedish, of which I speak only three words.
Those three words are quite important to the Swedish though, number 1 is Fika… a word meaning literally “food/coffee/snack / any excuse for a break!  You see signs for Fika on almost every small shop in Sweden, and it is something that should be introduced in the UK for sure!

Second is Hej Hej, meaning – Hello, an essential greeting! And Thirdly there is Largomm (spelling might be wrong here).  Largomm literally sums up Sweden, for it means “just enough to fill you up, but not more”  which is quite a nice thought, no oversized portions but nothing rip off.  I like it and I like the way it sums up the Swedish culture and identity.

So we are on our way to Stockholm, with no hostels open and also no hotels open, the eery light of the eve has caught us out and it is nearly two am, the sun is almost rising again through our windscreen.  We eventually find a hotel Ibis in the nearby (by Swedish standards) town of Nykopping.

Six hours later we are up and out, on the final run to Stockholm in our lovely Saab 95 turbo, for which I am sure the lovely Emily must be thanked.

Our bed for tonight is the first thing we sort out, heading for a rather bizarre youth hostel located on an old warship, the AF Chapman.  The old sailing ship has done many miles and is now a prominent attraction on an island opposite the old town of Stockholm. Parking for the car is not too bad either at 30krona (about £2.50)

So – our bed for tonight is sorted, although the swipe card used for entry onto the ship is slightly dodgy, leaving us hoping that we will be able to get back on!!

Stockholm, as with Copenhagen, is a city built on a load of islands.  Luke and I fear for the lives of our shoes after our Copenhagen expedition led to getting stuck on many of the smaller islands and having to walk miles to get back off again! So we decided to keep our walking tour to a more confined area.

We head off into the old town, Gamla Stan.  It is a maze of tight, twisting streets with shops hiding around every corner and restaurants attracting the flocking tourists with charm rather than brashness.  The Royal Palace, consisting of 680 rooms and thus making it the largest in the world, occupies one corner of this small island and the wide streets surrounding it are in severe contrast with the aforementioned maze just a few hundred metres away.

There is mostly certainly a tourist feel to this part of Stockholm, as is to be expected. We hear many English and American accents in the hordes of people clamouring for that certain photo of this old place.  Luke and I head off into the side streets to see what else we can find, which is not too much really, but the calm and coolness of these streets is not to be missed.

By this time my mobile has died (my phone has a habit of doing this at inconvenient times) so we head off to find a place to get a charger (with European socket) and head back to the hostel for a few hours of much needed kip!
We had arranged to meet some people from the brilliant Couchsurfing.org website in the evening, unfortunately due to mobile numbers, emails and all sorts of other miscommunications we are unable to get hold of our drinking buddies for this evening and so, with ther remaining power left in the laptop I connect to the Internet and post an “urgent drinks request” on the Stockholm page, then the stomach growls and it is time for some food!

The old town has transformed in just a few hours from streets packed full of travellers into a much quieter, cosier and more relaxed place.  The bars are full of people kicking back and the restaurants are crammed with smart looking people enjoying some good looking food.

Being on a budget of course meant that we were looking for the most “cost-effective” place to eat, rather than the one that looked like you needed a mortgage to enter.

We were not disappointed though, nor were we snubbed at – for we only really had a few “travelling clothes” with us, which can cause an issue in some snobbier places.  Our restaurant looks reasonably priced and once inside the host whisks us off to a table, then onto another table (he mis-judged something or something, but was very polite about it all).
Our waitress was yet another incredibly good looking Swede, although not blonde – which is better in my books.
With our meals ordered Luke and I settled into our beers (and wine).  Then the meals arrived.

Now I have mentioned before about Largomm, and this is exactly what I got, a healthy, but not too large portion of meatballs in lingonberry sauce with some mashed potato, a truly brilliant meal.

Just as Luke and I were ready for an early night a text came through from our “urgent drinks request” on couch surfing and just a few hours later we were knocking back a few beers on a fairly orderly bar crawl around the south Stockholm island of Sodermalm.

At around 4am, and with the sun now firmly asserting itself in the sky we headed back for a night on the AF Chapman, another Scandinavian Capital has been partied in, and yes, I would recommend anyone to come here.  The city is clean, laid back when not in the packed tourist areas and that friendly feel to it that is missing in so many cities. 

Stockholm has soul.

It’s Friday, we are all fully recovered after a relaxing stopover at Del’s place and from this campsite, situated right on the edge of a lake.

We are ready to tackle the onslought that will be Stockholm, a complete weekend of meeting people (via couch surfing), walking around, having a look at what is going on and so on.

For once we are actually up reasonably early (about 9 am – ok well it is early for us!) The bright red van is packed, ready to go, we’ve got 50 litres of fresh water and nothing stopping us from the 300kilometre journey that will take us to the vibrant capital of this strange country.

I say strange country and actually I do mean it.

Sweden is probably one of the few countries where they almost “expect” you to visit at only certain times.  Every person we have met says that we should come back in the summer, apparently the biggest party is the midsummer celebrations, where the partying continues into the next morning, noon and even night.

Yet, travelling at this time of year we have seen not many campervans about really and the few youth hostels we have looked into are only open if you have booked them, not the “rock up and book in” type of hostels that exist almost everywhere else I have been.

These issues were about to play havoc with us.

So stockholm yer – er no, well maybe not right away.

We usually have to muck around a bit to get the van started, using a bit of full throttle and patience, but she will eventually start.  But not this time.  There was nothing.  The battery was turning the engine over but the engine just didn’t want to kick in.
Phone call number 1… breakdown company to arrange a truck and techie to come out to us.

Luckily for us the campsite guy seems to know what he is doing with engines, the old (antique) volvo digger in the background takes about 30minutes to start he tells us as, dressed already in workman’s overalls, he heads straight under the bonnet of our stricken van.

After some prodding, poking and more attempts to start the van we have completely exhausted our battery, but our man in blue overalls thinks that it is most probably air in the fuel system – I had changed the fuel filter just a day ago and, although she started first time then, it seemed to be the causing a problem now.

Phone call number 2… What is an LDV Convoy?
Of course once I had rung my breakdown company and told them I was broken down abroad they had transferred my “file” to their european call centre, who had no idea what an LDV Convoy is, strangely enough not many people outside of the UK have – it had already caused a stir amongst the repair garage in Germany, from where we had bought the fuel filter.

So after trying their systems one final time we (the lovely sounding Emily and I) decided it would be easiest to call it a Ford Transit, as that is the engine we have.

The campsite guy returns now with a battery charger and promptly plugs in the van before heading off to help an older couple with their awning – is there no end to this man’s talents?

Phone Call number 3… Ok Mr Gardner, we have a truck on it’s way to you, but where are you?

Yes – I have no idea how that can work either, but between a few postal codes, Nei’s (no) and Ja’s (Yes), from the campsite guy-turned-navigation-system and the lovely Emily looking on Google maps we manage to find our precise location, down to the last tree.

Around half an hour later the truck arrives, almost as red as our van – but not quite, our campsite guy has now turned into translator and is explaining as well as helping the techie from the recovery firm.

Both conclude that it is probably air in the pipes and that – with a bit of persuasion, a jumpstart from the truck and a heap of luck that the van should eventually turn over.

An hour of fiddling, a half hour of looking and fifteen minutes of head scratching later and we are still not moving, nor starting and with the weather having turned from a fairly fine morning into and afternoon of rain that would embarass even the most powerful of showers it was decided that the van will have to go to the workshop.

Now this would be fine if we were in England, most workshops are open until 5pm on a Friday, and probably open saturday morning at least, alas we are not in England, we are in Sweden – meaning that the workshop has already shut and that it will not be open until Monday morning… Crap.

The journey to the workshop takes us into the town of Skovde… pronounced “Hurvdur” apparently.

Chatting to our recovery driver on the way it turns our that he is a busy man.  His normal job is in a factory that makes shop furniture, most notably for the UK retail chain “Next”. He is also a fireman whenever his pager goes off and the recovery driver every third weekend and he has an interest in classic American cars, owning a Pontiac himself, although my memory fails me as to which.

Phone Call number 4… Mr Gardner, we were just wondering how things were going with your car…

Well yes, that was that, we had no van until Monday, we had gathered a few belongings, plus our sleeping bags and headed out of the workshop (which was being locked up) and into the Preem fuel station around the corner where we took up temporary residence.

We find a seat in the Preem shop and grab a quick coffee, the friendly attendant informs us that some of the small packets of sweets on the font of the des are “free samples”, but she had that look in her eye that just seemed to say it all, pity.  Still Ihave never been one to pass up a free bag of sweet goodness and dig into a meatball baguette, that unfortunately wasn’t free.

Phone call number 5… Mr Gardner, we have checked your policy and you have a hire car available, will you be needing it?

Well hell yer – the same thing applies to free cars as it does to sweets, offer it to me and I will take it.  After double checking the location of the Preem garage the lovely Emily tells us that our car will be here shortly, I jokingly ask for a Ferrari, knowing full well that the Toyota Yaris that I am entitled to will not be the most thrilling ride in the world.

Phone Call number 6… Mr Gardner, Emily here, your Saab will be here shortly…

My What?!  How on earth did… that’s not a Toyo… don’t ask questions, just accept. OK I say and await our luxury car (and yes, in comparrison to an LDV convoy anything is luxury, but this was like proper nice.

A few minutes later the guys and gal from Avis turn up with a gleaming Saab 95 Turbo, running on Ethanol… certainly have to remember that when we fill up.

Somehow Luke and I have turned into a family of four with a heap of luggage, and I, dear readers, am now mysteriously Dr Gardner.

I told you “Emily” was lovely…

So off we shoot towards the vibrant capital of this strange country – well we will do once I stop reaching down the wrong side for the gear stick, Luke is worried that at some point I will just open the door and eject myself whilst reaching for 4th gear.

That’s all folks, till the morning!

So after arriving a long day touring around Copenhagen, followed by touring round the Viking museum, followed by driving around heading north and all the rest of it – we were glad of the break offered to us by Del, a friend of my parents – who used to babysit me apparently.

We took the chance to catch up on some washing (very much needed) and some comfortable sofa’s! It also gave me the cahnce to catch up a bit with things on this here blog.

So – what is Sweden like as a tourist destination.

Well, it certainly is worthwhile trying to make your trip in the summer months of July-August.  Everyone talks of the massive parties and just lively atmosphere that seems to swell in Sweden, and in particular the region of Skane in the summer.

We came up to Sweden because we thought arriving before the high season would mean cheaper campsite fares (it does) but the down side is that we have got worse weather than we had back in England!  Rain and Wind, and bloody viious wind at that!

The other thing we have found hard to find in Sweden is somewhere to empty our waste water and fill our clean water ( ver- & ensortung).

We were spoiled for choice in Denmark with tha stations being placed at every motorway service station, but in Sweden we seem to have lost them completely and this is compunded by our innability to lay our hands on the much coveted Nordic Camping Guide, which gives directions to all of these stations and more.  No campervan dealer, motorway service station, fuel stop o camp site seems to have a copy, though they have all heard of it.

I am starting to think that there is a conspiracy going on….

Moonlit Beach @ Karlskrona

Random Shots from Driving through Sweden

Which is of course Sweden.

And it is a beautiful country.  We crossed over the Oresund bridge from Copenhagen to Malmo.

This feat of engineering is one of Europe’s largest bridges and the complete tunnel / bridge combination makes it the longest crossing in Europe.

We walked around Malmo for a bit once we arrived – taking in some of the historic  buildings, and yes of course some more water features.  After a quick coffee we consulted the “bible” and headed south – for the first time in this trip – to Hollviken, and yet another harbour.

We plug in, rev up the laptop and connect to a less than perfect internet connection.

Then it arrives, after many days of clear skies and sunshine we are battered by wind and rain from almost all directions.

The rain bounces off our roof with some lovely plinking noises that keep us awake for a short while until tiredness overcomes us and we nod off to sleep.

Morning comes and, although the rain has gone, the wind has remained – ensuring that any trips out of the van are made with bowed heads and hoods up.

We pile back into the van after taking a shower and head off to the local Viking Museum.

So – I know I haven’t posted in a while – but I have been busy, honest!

And to prove it there are some photos below of our wonderful campervan conversion.

Things are going a bit slower than I would like, but then I’m impatient.  We will finally be leaving next Wednesday.  And heading straight to Sweden

So – the photos of the van…

The starting point of converting the van

This is the stuff what will keep us warm

View from the back of the van

Front of van with bed one in the foreground

Well there you go, I will post more when she is fully finished and will do full posts on each of the steps when I actully have some energy.

Anyways, hope you are all ok.

Take care.

Si.

In memory of Kate – who still plays on my mind.