The Evil Snowmobile continued.

After swapping snowmobiles twice (the second one overheated - not my fault, I promise), we were back on our way. We travelled for another good hour or so, and I thought we must be almost back at our starting point, because considering all the delays and the poor snow quality, we were never going to make the Snow Village and back again within the 5-7 hours they said the trip would take.

Imagine my surprise when at 2:30 pm, we checked in at the Snow Village. That means we were only halfway- and I had no feeling in my right thumb from the accelerator. The guide saids that in normal conditions (and with no fuckheads in the group), they would normally be back at the starting point by 3pm.

Now B will be bitchy and ask why my thumb was sore when I never accelerated, but please ignore her. It is a stated fact that people over 6 ft, with receding hairlines, weird second toes and gigantic craniums battle with snowmobiling.

We had a simple late lunch of fish soup (which was a relief as we were worried that they may sneak in reindeer) and then we walked around the Snow Village, with B taking beautiful pictures, me pondering my impending doom on the trip home, the Brits asking if they could travel by themselves. Apparently someone had irritated them....... I'm not sure who that was.

The snow hotel had many rooms, all designed differently with beautiful sculptures in the beds and walls. It wasn't a 100% complete yet, and we almost killed ourselves slipping on the icy floors, even with our snow boots on. Hopefully when they're done, they put something on the floors, as it would be a death trap for old people with dodgy hips.























The trip home was much less eventful, even though it was now pitch-dark. Visibility was really poor as it had started snowing really hard, and impossible to see out of the helmets' visors as a result. I had become very cautious, often finding myself well behind the group, with B yelling at me to grow a pair, but at least I was not killing trees nor myself.

We arrived back at 6:30pm, 9 hours after we set out, and it took about 15 minutes for me to be able to extricate my cramped thumb off the throttle. Our guide walked off, saying something to his colleague that made small children nearby start crying. I think it might have been some Finnish swear words about me.

I wasn't a big fan of the trip, but B was a machine on the snowmobiles, and she loved every minute of it. The harder the trip became, the more uphills and downhills, and the worse the visibility became, the more she seemed to enjoy herself - crazy wench. Quite the explorer and adrenaline junkie she turned out to be - makes life damn interesting.


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The attack of the Evil Snowmobiles

The Evil Snowmobiles - written by the penis-possessing Poodle, and severely edited by the one who suffers from penis envy. Mostly because she has a weak bladder and needs to wee often. Which can be a problem in snowdrifts when you're in the middle of nowhere, and there are signs warning you about wolves. Apparently pulling down your snow pants and accidentally peeing on a wolf is bad form in Finland.

This post is not suitable for children under the age of 10. No wait, make that 16.

Snowmobiling has been on our bucket-list for a very long time, so part of the reason for our trip to the Arctic was to accomplish this. We'd originally booked the snowmobiling for Tromso in Norway, so that we could chase the Northern Lights some more, but our trip was cancelled because the snow was tardy. So when we got to Levi, and saw all that lovely snow, we pre-booked a 90km round trip to The Snow Village and back. This was estimated to take about 5-7 hours, and would run through narrow forest trails, wider expanses, over dams and through some very beautiful scenery in northern Finland.

We arrived early in the morning and met our guide and two Brits who were booked on the trip with us. At this point, the guide was still optimistic and friendly, and didn't think I was a complete fuck head. Neither did the Brits. That was soon to change. (My wife has always thought I'm a bit of a fuck head, so her perception of me did not change in any way).



The beginning of the trip was fairly uneventful. We drove across a frozen swamp, and all was right in our small group and with the world. We saw some reindeers, but no squirrels. We think the Scandinavians have eaten all the squirrels, but I digress.




We then moved beyond the straight, flat section, and the trail narrowed and started to curve a lot, and it was here that our guide wished he had called in sick with syphilis that day. Everyone else was doing just fine, but for some reason, I can't steer like a normal person - my snowmobile was magnetically attracted to trees. Which is odd, as trees are not made of metal. Unless these trees are made of metal, and painted to look like wood. Which I wouldn't put past those crafty Scandinavians.

I crashed spectacularly, and found myself down a very steep incline, with my snowmobile skis wrapped around a few trees. I immediately freaked out and remembered the 650 Euro co-payment I'd have to make to cover the excess on the insurance if I damaged the snowmobile. Poodle would kill me as that would severely affect her wine budget.

The guide soon noticed I was no longer behind him, and the whole party was halted as the guide dashed back to save me. Poodle checked I was fine, and when she established I was still alive, she pointed and laughed. A lot. And then decided to take some arty shots to further ridicule me.





The guide looked pale as he assessed the damage, and then pulled a machete from his bag of tricks. After hacking at the trees for a while, he freed the skis and then started pulling the snowmobile up the steep incline. The poor Brit got roped in, and was yanking from the front, while the guide and I were pushing from behind.

After much strain, the snowmobile was back on the path, and I pretended not to hear the Brit muttering darkly about shit-head South Africans who'd probably bought their drivers licenses.

To save face, I insisted that the vehicle was faulty and demanded a new one. Syphilis boy took the snowmobile on a test run down a cliff and up a tree (with a few loopy loops thrown in to show off) and said it was fine, so we continued. But alas, two more trees called, and my mobile answered, spectacularly.

As the Brits continued to mutter darkly, my wife nudged and winked at me, and whispered that I should follow her lead. She started speaking in an Australian accent and mentioned that she wondered if our kangaroo was still pining for us while we were away, and that her friend Matilda had torn her ligament from all that waltzing she'd been doing. Apparently it was important to her that we not give all South Africans a bad name through my immense toss-fuck-like behavior. Rather let them go home and tell all their friends how stupid Australians are.

At this point our guide said maybe we should swap vehicles, which we did. Turns out, it was not the bike. Apparently, I love crashing into trees - who would have thunk it..

To be continued...


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Lessons in falling

There we were on Tuesday, dressed to kill (hopefully not ourselves), waiting to tear down the slopes. Our trainer/coach dude walked us to the kiddies slope, then past it to a totally flat spot which is even easier - all the kids were pointing and laughing at us. Little bastards!

We learnt to clip the board to our boots and then how to fall. WTF? I know how to fall, turns out I'm an expert actually, but I don't know how to snow board.

It's very tiring learning, as you have to drag your board everywhere; you can only use the ski lift when you know what you are doing. The lesson went well, with frequent falls and tricksy boards going where they weren't supposed to. B made the lift operator have a minor stroke as she went barreling straight for him and all the equipment. It didn't inspire much confidence that she kept yelling, "where the fuck is the brake on this thing?" and "Oi! You there! Take your ski-lift and get out of my way!". There was also an incident or two with B and me trying to occupy the same space (apparently not possible) even though we started off really far apart. Mostly because I stay as far away as I can get, because she's a menace to society and shouldn't be allowed on the slopes.

Our trainer was polite, telling us how well we were doing, even though we both clearly sucked. A lot. He also told us that coffee and alcohol are no no's for snow boarding. You can imagine how well that went down - we immediately went and handed our boards in, demanded a refund and had some wine. Just kidding - about the boards, not the wine.

We went back again yesterday, but alas, were just as bad as we were the day before! We had a few really epic falls, none of which were caught on camera unfortunately, as you can't lug a camera around when you spend more time falling arse-over kettle than standing upright. The amazing thing is how hot you get, even in the freezing conditions, and a few times B and I just flopped down in the snow and stayed there. Didn't even mind getting snow down my McCracken a few times - found it quite refreshing actually!

It's also very disheartening to try and learn something in your mid- thirties while watching 3 year old whipper-snappers tearing down the slopes around you like pros. I'm sure I saw B try to trip one particularly smug ankle-biter, but she insists it was an accident.

Think we might have been making the tiniest bit of progress when we heard the most blood-curdling shrieking just behind us from a woman curled up on the slopes. Note to self: unclip your boots from the board before trying to run, as failure to do this will result in epic fall #206. B got to the woman first, who was writhing in agony, and we flagged down the medical staff who came zooming over on snowmobiles.

Think the woman tore her cruciate ligament - looked eina. B then tried to hijack the snowmobile, but didn't make her getaway fast enough. We decided to give up for the day after that incident.

But we live to tackle the mountain again!


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Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to the Finnish Arctic Circle we go

We arrived on Monday the 12th at Kittila airport, a sprawling beast of a building covering at least one netball court ;-) We then went outside and got a real taste of the Finnish Arctic, it was about -21 degrees. Yay! Of course Dumb and Dumber (us) decided to go for a walk around and take some pictures in the cold. The cameras were really sluggish for some odd reason - it would appear they aren't big fans of the cold.




We had a brief wait for a bus and then we were off to Levi. A short ride of about 10 minutes, at a cost of 7 Euros each, which is positively cheap by Scandinavian standards! Finland is apparently more affordable than Norway. Yay! More money for us to spend on decent wine! B had to dash into our hotel's head office in the city center to get our key, and then we caught a taxi to our apartment.

On arrival, we were greeted by a beautiful sight : our stunning wooden lodge, juxtaposed against swirling tiny icicles that looked like glitter in the lamp light. Deep drifts of snow lay on either side of the road, and the nearby ski slope, which was also floodlit (Levi has 2 hours of twilight each day, and is dark the rest of the time), had a few brave souls flying down it.




We opened the door to our unit with trepidation, as the ashtray outside on the patio was full of cigarette butts. Not a great first-impression! B almost had a heart-attack when she saw the place. The $&@ers had given us the wrong keycard, and we were standing at the threshold of a unit that looked as though a hurricane had gone through it. Clothes scatted everywhere, ski equipment covering most of the floor and empty beer bottles littering the remaining surface area. Needless to say, since we are South Africans, we rifled through their things, (B put on gloves first, muttering about what pigs men are) and stole a few odds and sods. Then we phoned and made them bring us a new key, while we went to the restaurant and drank. Err, we're joking of course. About the looting, not the drinking. We never joke about drinking.

Our unit is beautiful. It looks out on the 18th hole of the golf course (as it is currently under a foot of snow, we have to take their word for it). We have our own private sauna and a fully equipped kitchen. We also have a drying cupboard, which we've Googled, and found out is like a tumble dryer, but supposedly gentler on clothes and better for the environment. It looks like a fridge - go figure!











All the instructions here are in Finnish, which means lots of fun and games for us poor English bastards. You have to turn taps (in your hand basin in the bathroom) to the left to get the washing machine to work, and taps (in your kitchen sink) to the right for the dishwasher to switch on. The sauna power switch needs to be turned on only halfway or else it won't work at all, and we still haven't figured out the radiator heaters.




Yesterday, once we woke up refreshed after an early first night, we went to town via the regular ski bus. It arrives at our apartment every 30 mins and is free to use during our entire stay. We first went off to book our snowmobiling excursion - a 7 hour trip to the Snow Village for later in the week.

Then, we were off to do some grocery shopping as we'll be self-catering. The shop is in town and about 500m from our bus stop, so we had to keep reminding ourselves that what you buy, you have to carry, unlike in SA where you load everything into the boot. So I didn't by the small beautiful concrete statues that I saw. Also wine by the box, rather than bottles. Much lighter, and not too much of a compromise as the box wine here is a million times better than the "doos wyn" at home.

It is quite interesting to try to buy things here. Everything is labeled in Finnish and packed differently than in SA. Mustard is in tubes and you can't figure out what strength you're getting. Chicken is the only identifiable meat, which makes you nervous as you don't want to buy reindeer or elk when you are looking for pork. Since we promised our godsprog Ella that we'd play with the reindeers and give them loves from her when we went to visit Santa, we didn't want to have to explain how we accidentally ate Rudolph.




Later in the day, we returned to Levi to hire snowboards, boots and helmets as it's our intention to learn a winter sport while here. They ask very personal questions when fitting you, like your weight, height, age, political views and favorite sexual positions. Quite nosy, the Finns.

B had to get bigger boots to fit her big clown feet, and a kiddie's helmet to fit her tiny head, but eventually we were trudging off across the slopes to go learn how to snowboard (or at least how to fall correctly). Our trainer was Tim, but his nickname was "Shnofflewhatsitjam". Not really, but that's what it sounded like.

To be continued...


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Images of Tromso for friends and family who aren't on Facebook

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Who needs maps when you have a spirit of adventure?

Lost in a Helsinki blizette - story continued from yesterday.

I finally got Stephen to agree that I am always, always right, and that I know everything (something all women should get their husbands to agree to as early in the marriage as possible - you need to bend the tree while it's still young), and we set off again. Poodle was confidently striding uphill, with the wind against us, and the ninja snow karate-chopping our faces at every opportunity.

After another ten minutes of us not seeing a familiar landmark, I suggested we stop and consult the map again.




Finnish street names are a lot more complex than Norwegian ones for some odd reason. Every street in Oslo ends with "gate" or "gata" and you can pronounce most of the names, even if you butcher them a bit. The street names in Helsinki are completely unpronounceable without spitting a lot. Even with the spitting, they're tough.

B: Okay, what street are we on?
S: Poena is koning.
B: Poena is koning? That's impossible! That's a South African movie.
S: Well, it's really Puna-notkonk, but that's just silly, so it will here on out be referred to as Poena is koning.
B: *rolls eyes* Okay... And where are we trying to get to?
S: Poitjies are hoikies.
B: What? Give me that map! How can the Fins be waffling on about poitjies?
S: It's actually Pohjoisesplanadi, but let's rename it.
B: What cross street are we on?
S: Kaserngatan or Kasarmikatu.
B: Why's it one or the other?
S: Don't know. They seem confused. Look at the sign. Every street here has 2 names. Probably the one their parents's gave them, and then the nickname they chose for themselves.




There is more eyeball rolling, I consult the map over Poodle's shoulder and am very relieved that we're not heading for Puistokatu as I can only imagine what Poodle will rename it.

S: Okay, let's go!

We both set off in opposite directions.

B: Aren't we supposed to be going this way?
S: You've got no sense of direction. It's the opposite way.
B: Let me climb into the map so I can see.

This usually involves the map being placed on the ground with the map turned around so the road we're in is facing the direction we're going in, so I can climb into the map to get a feel for where we're headed.

S: You can't climb into the map. It's already sopping from the snow. Your boots will tear it. Come on.




We head off in his direction, only to back-track ten minutes later when another check at the pulpy map confirms I was right.

Finally, by some miracle, we stumble across the right road and stagger our way to the hotel, half-frozen and very wet, clutching a ball of pulp instead of a map.




Psst. Want to know a secret? I grumbled all the way, and called him a lot of bad names, but I actually love getting lost. It's always such a adventure! That's why Poodle remains the Minister of Maps and Directions :-)


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Where Douglas Gleen?

So they say you should be careful what you wish for. Hate it when they're right!

Poodle and I left Tromso early yesterday morning, waited around a lot, flew to Oslo, waited around a lot, then flew to Helsinki.





Was really cool to see them defrosting the plane before take-off; Oslo was minus 8 and the plane looked like it was covered in icing!



Got here late last night, so we only got to explore this morning. Our hotel is a really cool converted prison (know it sounds dodgy, but it really isn't- will post more info later), and the breakfast is superb. We loaded up on the buffet this morning, then set out to see what Helsinki is all about.

Err, it's mostly about boats, seagulls and cathedrals from what we could ascertain. And a protest march or two.
























And an opera house or two. Plus a few shopping centers. Let's put it this way, they have a statue of a man who looks constipated listed as the number 3 thing to do here. I wouldn't do that statue if you paid me! But, I digress. After a very long walk around Helsinki, we decided to stop at a pub called Old Hat, to have a bite and a drink or three.

As we came out, we saw that our most cherished wish had come true. The city was being lovingly embraced by a small blizzard - a "blizzette" if you will. Winds of 50km an hour and hard ninja-like snow billowing down. Yippee!!

Another digression, if you'll be so kind as to allow it: we've read that Eskimos have 50 words for "snow" and we now understand why. So far, we've come up with a few words of our own:

* Angel's dandruff - nice, soft, dry, gentle snow that swirls around your head playfully
* Kievits kamikaze - snow that's as sharp and aggressive as Kievit birds in SA that dive-bomb you on the golf course.

The "blizzette" contained the Kievits kamikaze kind. I will continue this post in play-form so you can appreciate the dialogue. "B" is me, and "S" is the fuck-wit I'm married to:

B: Yay! A blizzard. Shall we frolic my good man?
S: Indeed! Let us frolic all the way back to hotel where we can have an afternoon nap.
B: Excellent plan.

(We head off, leaning into the strong winds, feeling our breath taken away by the iciness in the air, and enjoying the snow until....)

S: Ouch!
B: What?
S: A snowflake just bitch-slapped me in the eye!
B: Stop being a big girl, it's just a little - ouch!
S: What?
B: A Ninja snowflake attacked my eye too!
S: Look, there's the South African embassy, let's go lay a complaint about the assault we've suffered at the hands of Finnish snow!
B: *snort* Let's rather go tell them we're laying a complaint against Julius Malema, and tell them we are seeking asylum.
S: More like : "My wife is crazy, and needs to be put into an asylum."

B bitch-slaps S and they carry on walking. After a few minutes:

B: None of this looks familiar, are you sure you know where you're going?
S: Of course I know where I'm going! I'm the Minister of Maps and Directions, aren't I?
B: True, and I'm the Minister of Everything Else. Still, I don't think we're going in the right direction. Why don't you consult the map?
S: I don't need to consult the map. I know exactly where we are.

Ten minutes of walking through a blizzard later:

S: I think we need to stop and consult the map.





B mutters darkly about idiot penis-possessors who should have consulted the map ten minutes ago.

S: Err, I think we're not going in the right direction.
B: What direction should we be going in?
S: Err, the opposite direction.
B: So you've made us walk 10 minutes in a blizzard in the wrong direction?
S: It would appear so.
B: Your only job is to know where we are and where the hell we're going!
S: But why was I given that job?
B: Because you took Geography up until Matric, and you need to play to your strengths!
S: Why didn't you take Geography at school?
B: Because Mrs Eksteen scared me! And besides, I took Maths, Biology, Science and Computer Science, which have all been way more useful!
S: Yes, and how have any of those helped us on this trip?
B: Maths came in handy with me being the Minister of Finance on this trip! Have we, or have we not, stayed within budget?
S: We have. Okay, what about Biology? How has that helped?
B: I'm the minister of Family Planning. Have we, or have we not, fallen pregnant on this holiday?
S goes pale: I hope we haven't.
B: Trust me, we haven't. And the Computer Science with Mr van Tonder came in extremely useful, because this whole trip was planned on computer!
S: Fine! What about Science then?
B: Give me enough time, and I can scientifically prove you're a toss- fuck who has no sense of direction!

To be continued....


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Pooches, old codgers and the Northern Lights

The day dawned like any other (@ 11:30am, because that's the time dawn arrives here. Quite a tardy wench that Dawn!).

Alas, we had to wait for the evening for our much anticipated husky sledding trip, as that's the best time to see the Northern Lights - if you're very, very lucky!

We'd booked the trip with Lyngsfjord Adventures, and had been biting our nails all week, because the expected snow in Tromso hadn't arrived as yet! Bloody rude of it. We travel across the world for some snow, and it doesn't have the decency to rock up. Luckily, snow finally fell the night before, so the trip was on. Yay for us! We travelled via bus even further north for just over an hour. Remarkably, there were no sniffers or snarly suckers on the bus.

Perhaps we should deviate from the story here to explain:

We have very much the same travel karma as movie karma. In movies, we end up behind people who answer cell phones, talk to each other, have their small children squirming violently on their lap (and kicking our popcorn) during movies with Orcses and such.

On buses, we end up in front of sneezers, whiners, sniffers, farters and the worst of all - the snarly sucker. That person that thinks it's cool to clear their sinuses by sucking/snorting in every ten seconds and then loudly swallowing the fruits of their labour. This all happens with their partners having a full conversation with them, and not feeling the need to tell them how disgusting they are. That's really not cool!

It's for this reason that we mostly avoid tours like the plague! We've gotten off buses in the middle of nowhere before, rather than listen to another second of snarly sucking. Unfortunately, husky sledding has to be done as part of a group. Which for us misanthropists is utter hell.




We finally arrived at Camp Tamrok, which was minus 15 degrees, and hurriedly got dressed into the provided snow suits. Note to self: the tour will only move as fast as the slowest gits, and there are always a few. Also, there is such a thing as being too hot, and thus putting on their big snowsuits over our own snowsuits is overkill. Plus, it makes us look really dumpy.



After a while, we went to our sleds and met our doggies. Awesomely cute and highly geared to get going. We had an opportunity to play with the little critters, as we waited for the entire tour group to get ready. The pooches really weren't what we were expecting. When we think "husky", we think of the longer, fluffier haired sort with the blue eyes (that look a bit likes wolves) that you see sweltering in the SA sun. These dogs had much shorter hair, were smaller and must have forgotten their contact lenses, because most of them had brown eyes.

The first thing we checked is that they were well-fed and well looked after. B is really pedantic about that kind of thing, and we were happy to see that the pooches were in tip top shape, and extremely happy and friendly. By this point in the trip, we were missing our own pooches terribly, so it was nice to have surrogate puppies to give loves to.








The cacophony of noise was very overwhelming. Almost a hundred dogs barking, howling, yelping and generally going ballistic with excitement.
Eventually, and after very limited instruction, we were off. The limited instruction included, "there are the brakes" and "if your sled flips, hang on for dear life, or else the dogs will leave you behind".

Jump ahead to Poodle asking Poodle: "how do you steer these things? Why does ours keep wanting to run off the cliff on the left?".
It turns out you can't steer a sled other than to lean, and that the dogs will go where ever the hell they want to go. Fat lot of good that does. You are more likely to tip the sled by leaning, than turn it in a direction you want it to go. So either way, you're screwed.

This part is written by B:

I took the first 8kms of "steering" while Poodle sat and relaxed. Well, if screaming like a girl that we're going to die, can be considered relaxing. The dogs took off like rockets, and I think our 4 pooches had death wishes. Everyone else's ran nicely in the middle of the track, but ours veered very dangerously to the left side of the road. Which wouldn't have been a problem, except that a steep cliff was on the left side of the road. And a lot of bare branches at face-height. I'm a bit of an adrenaline junky, so I wasn't keen to use the brakes, but Poodle's terrified shrieking forced me to try and slow the pooches down.





A few things we learnt:

* When on ice instead of snow, the brakes don't really work, and you'll just go sliding toward the cliff instead of slowing down.
* Never go behind old codgers! Apparently they're really nervous of breaking a hip or something, because they stand on the brakes constantly - even on uphills. This wouldn't be too much of an issue, if you were allowed to overtake. (Picture me waving my fist at an oldie as we overtake them, me yelling "eat snow coffin dodger!") But you're not allowed to overtake, so every time the idiots in front of you brake, you also need to brake. Without sliding into your dogs or having them crash into the sled in front. So either lead the charge so you can ride like the wind, or stay very far behind.
* The dogs need to poop. Often. Some will poop while they're running, and some will slam on brakes to take a poo. Which doesn't work that well when they're attached to 3 other dogs who drag them along.
* Do not decide during one of the many delays (while an old codger is being wiped up off the floor after flipping their sled and losing a contact lens) that you and your partner should swap drivers. If you take your foot off the brakes for a second, the dogs will try and make a mad dash for it, leaving you both behind. Unless you pull a James Bond move, run wildly alongside the sled, throw yourself onto it, climb the length of it and then hop over to seize control of the brakes. All this while your husband stands a kilometer behind you, waving his hands around, yelling about his abandonment issues.
* Don't decide to look up into the sky to catch a glimpse of the Northern Lights while you're racing along, as your headlamp will then stop illuminating the road, and your husband might then get smacked in the face by low- hanging branches that he couldn't see, and thus didn't know to avoid. This does not make him happy.




Once we got away from the oldies and scaredies, we had a fabulous ride. The landscape was breathtakingly beautiful - mountains on either side of you, snow covering everything, and icicles hanging from branches. It was such an amazing experience, and we'd really recommend that it goes on your bucket list, if it isn't there already.

After the sledding, we were taken to a Sami tent to defrost ourselves and have some amazing fish soup. It was just as we were tucking in, that someone yelled "the lights!" and we all rushed outside.




What a beautiful sight! Waves of green in the sky, undulating and streaking every which way. The display only lasted a few minutes, but we were extremely lucky to see it. A few people had stayed at the camp for 4 nights, and this was the first time they'd seen the lights. Wow. Goosebumps.

I wasn't lucky enough to get pictures, but just being there and experiencing it was fantastic. Really hope we get to see them again in Finland.


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