Patong

There are probably other places like this one or maybe even worse ones . Yet it has something disturbing, in its atmosphere of total disregard for nature and architecture, for people's body and soul, for respect or dignity, all in the name of what some consider to be big fun.

It did not help that the organiser commented with a pinch of pride her successful booking in the famous and beautiful Patong beach, promising dreamlike midnight swimming, just minutes before finding ourselves stuck in hoards of drunk crowds, scooters, touts, hookers and rubbish.

Our accommodation also gives clear hints of its target customers. Mostly sport channels on (free) TV, dark towels and slippers, and an inside window with a view on the shower to be enjoyed while comfortably lying on your bed.

But New Year's Eve party sports thousands of paper lanterns beautifully raising from the beach to the sky. Better to look up at them, forgetting about the dump and the drunken staying down on earth.

Hopefully 2014 will be a better year for all.

Happy new year.

Not going

Summer is almost over and there are all the places where I did not go to be talked about.

I did not go to the Loire valley where a majestic chateau still holds a reservation in my name, which I have already paid and will probably never use.

I did not go to Sorrento, where the beauty of the town, the blue of the water and the intense taste of the food welcomed and spoiled my friends but not me.

I did not jump into the clear bays and lagoons of Malta, always a land of summer memories.

And all the places I did not visit, all my missed opportunities, they all have a story, are part of my story, make my life what it is and will make myself what I am.

Oslo city

I did not forget the last stop in our trip.
Less exciting times and more relax, good food and shopping: Oslo, big ships, long walks and the last couple of days of the Norway trip.

A pleasant city, nice to discover, manageable with an efficient public transport system, not too big and not choked by traffic. Its harbour may be less characteristic than Bergen and less stunning than Svolvaer, but perfect to sip a glass of fresh white wine (at the price of a whole bottle), facing the long sunset in the clear blue sky.

Yes, on time for the aperitif we did have clear blue sky, yet in the few hours before, we managed to experience: cold rain, shining sun, chilling wind, cloudy sky and shining sun again. Starting to make sense of this "outdoors" fashion style most Norwegians in the streets seemed to favour.

Norwegians. We really liked them. Besides being beautiful people with big blue eyes, they were very kind, friendly and helpful throughout our visit. Whether it was free access to their wifi to help us find a place to sleep or file a flight plan, getting us in and out of an international airport without checking any ID, giving an advice on their favourite Aglianico from Irpinia to accompany the entrecote, the people of Norway made an excellent impression on a bunch of tired pilots (and passenger).

To NordKapp and back again

The D-day has finally come.
A few hundreds more km to fly, some difficulties to overcome (northern airfields closed during the weekend being the most pressing in the morning) but the target is within reach, weather permitting.

Departing from Svolvaer, passing at 1.500 feet through a wilder landscape of "wave" clouds and snow-topped mountains, dotted here and there by sparse wooden houses.
A quick pit stop to refuel in Hammerfest and off again, flying over the 71st Parallel and the northernmost point in Europe.

And so Nordkapp was conquered, by doing some formation flying and low passes over the Nordkapp signpost and close the mountain side - a bit too close maybe, for the amusement of the tourists but also risking to be taken down in a rotor, thereby prematurely ending our adventure.

Not that the other days flying was 100% quiet and smooth, but today we definitely exceeded the daily dose of turbulence, crappy weather and hold-your-breath landings, enough to be able to enjoy a quiet dinner and the Tromso midnight sun marathon - and a quiet jet liner flight tomorrow to go back south.

Adventure time is finished, it is time to leave the little Diamond parked in the arctic city of Tromso, for somebody else to take it back home. And it is also time to lean back, relax and savour the memories of emotions, discoveries, fears and expectations of these days.

Bye Charlie Romeo, till next time.

Midsummer

With the official start of summer, we crossed the Arctic circle and reached the Lofoten archipelago, landing in Leknes and Svolvaer, not before playing a bit in the skies above the islands in formation with the sister aircraft (meet Charlie Sierra, twin of our Charlie Romeo, a bit under the weather, like all of us).

The air gets finer and clearer, the colours brighter and the water calmer. The night disappears and we enter dreamland Svolvaer bay.

It is midsummer night, people are out celebrating until late (what is late anyway?), some are jumping naked in the ice-cold water to show either prowess or recklessness. The reflexes on the water have something magic and soothing for the spirit.

Feeling like time stopped, we should nevertheless try to get some sleep. We still have a mission to accomplish, the 71st parallel is waiting for us.

In the Sognefjord

And a beautiful day it was.
Beautiful for walking around pretty Bergen, "the most beautiful small town in the world", according to my guidebook.

And perfect also for flying out of it and deep into the Sognefjord, home to breathtaking lascapes, and to a minuscule, almost invisible landing strip on the side of a rock. No flying in the clouds or away from a storm today, but once again excellent piloting skills deployed to land in Sogndal.

The second leg today brought us high up again, over the central mountain range, overflying a glacier and doing a 360 loop to check the small aircraft in the backyard of a house (where else would you keep one if you lived in Gerainger?). One last loop to note the score of a football match while overflying Alesund and finally we can land 400 km further north-east, in Trondheim.

A long way done but not even half way to our destination Nordkapp. In fact, we still get sunrise and sunset. And an Italian restaurant at dinner time. Tomorrow this has got to change.

Northbound

Half a year ago it was down under. Now it is definitely up and above: jumping on a Diamond 40 - an old friend met almost 3 years ago, Delta Echo Sierra Charlie Romeo - heading Nordkapp for Midsummer.

Wishing I could help with piloting next time, for the time being I'm performing my usual photographer's role, sometimes flight attendant, passing vfr charts or water.

And off we go, right after the Ryanair Boeing. 1500 ft, overflying the Affligem tower (yes, there is more than just a brewery in Affligem), heading north Germany for the first leg, passing quickly over the Netherlands - Dutch controllers just seem to want us fast out of their skies.

Three hours later we are in Husum, family run (sort of) airfield, big man with big belly and basic English at the radio, free cups of coffee for everybody, a storm on our way north and another one coming from the south. Better to go quickly and better to be above the clouds than below them. Beautiful flying in cotton at times at 10.000 feet.

Feeling confident for being high enough and with radar control, we can make it all the way through the bad weather and to Bergen. Note to self: no problem to go through the clouds or to pass airport security without even showing an id but no way you can find a place to sleep in Bergen without a reservation.

Tomorrow, we are told, will be a beautiful day for flying.

May break

Do not worry about that sunscreen, in May the sun does not bite.

This short trip to Mallorca will probably be remembered for this statement made on the first day and regretted on the first evening - after about 8 hours in the sun and a slightly burned chest/shoulders/nose/other.

The upside: some kind of colour to show off with friends once back the city where being hit by the sun does not rank very high in the list of possible threats.

Funny Mallorca

Mallorca seems kind of trilingual: Spanish, Catalan, German. You can be informed by reading the Mallorca Zeitung and, in certain areas, it is hard to find tapas, so better settle for some Berliner kebab in case of hunger pangs.  

Seductive Mallorca

Mallorca towns are very pretty, well cared and well kept, shining in the sun. The countryside landscape gets dramatic when the end of a sharp bend reveals a little cala or hills plunging steeply into the sea. 

Getting spoiled in Mallorca

It does give some kind of satisfaction not to have to pay a fortune for a good dinner, tasty snacks with Cava or for a pretty summer dress, with the shop owner giving you, on top, the belt from another dress - just because you liked it. And to drink a nice bottle of Spanish wine, with the waiter pouring two additional glasses and serving dessert and champagne, all on the house.

I guess some more Spanish explorations would do no harm.

Eau de Cologne

I have been several times in Cologne, each time for just a partial visit. Sooner or later, I will hopefully manage to have the full picture.

First time, as a party destination, reached by local train from Bonn - not exactly renown for nightlife, I am told. Another time, a stroll in the shopping area and a couple of drinks in the Heumarkt. Then there was the time of that workshop outside the centre.

This time, on a Easter eve which was colder than a Christmas eve, the day was good for climbing up the bell tower of the Cathedral, drinking a few Koelsch from those tiny long glasses and freezing to the bones while walking along the Rhine.

Very clean, very neat, difficult to imagine the Carnival craze. Maybe next time.

Taking stock

31 days away, almost 10.000 km in one continent, 11 flights, 12 beaches, 4 BBQs and 2 fish&chips, 3 pizzas, 3 ice creams and even 2 pastas (Asian noodles not included).

26 cities, 1437 photos, 1 (sort-of) dive, 20 degrees temperature excursion on the continent, 40 degrees excursion upon return to Europe.

12 Sauvignon blanc, 1 Chardonnay, 8 Shiraz, 5 Australian lagers, 1 Japanese drink tasting like bubblegum.

A dozen kangaroos (half of them dead on the road), a few wallabies, about 20 koalas (all alive), a thousand penguins going home for dinner at dusk, 5 crocodiles, 3 shadows of sharks, dozens of parrots, hundreds (dead) jellyfishes, thousands colourful butterflies.

1 heat-induced headache, zero colds, zero sicknesses, 1 big smile.

Waving away the end of holiday blues

Back to Queensland for the last destination of the OZ tour, to towns with fancy names such as Noosa and Surfers Paradise. A bit posh the former, very laid back the latter. Small summer houses versus sky high hotel buildings. Roasted butternut pumpkin tortellini with sage butter at Gaston's there, fish and chips on the beach here. One thing in common: waves. Big ones, both places a surfer's dreamland.

If you did not take your board along, no worries, you can still go in the water to perform the local beach ritual: confined in 50 metre stretches delimited by flags, it is allowed to jump against the coming waves, in sync with the rest of the crowd, under the supervision of lifeguards and helicopters (safety first).

Sure, a long relaxing walk is always an option, the city will provide spotlights to make your sandy steps safe at night ('safety first' must be the unofficial title of the OZ anthem). Or just take the car, for an unforgettable ride between waves on one side and forest on the other. Speed limit on the beach is 80 km/h, 50 in "urban" areas (oh well, camps) and police is very strict. Whilst driving with high tide is not really recommendable, the beach is the best road to get to Fraser Island, where in fact, the beach is the only road available - as well as the only runway and unofficial cemetery of those hundreds blue jellyfishes.

With traces of sun on my skin, of sand in my shoes and Flathead fish&chips in my stomach, it is a little hard to pack up dirty clothes and good memories. Besides, the suitcase is almost exploding. A koala bear or a bottle of Shiraz too many?

Sydney - and the others

Darwin is an odd place. Temperatures and humidity make an impenetrable wall, there is no real centre or place to go for a walk, the beach and its waves are artificial, public transport stop at 6:30 pm - where would you want to go anyway?

Adelaide is a nice and relaxing spot to chill out, especially when coming back exhausted from the desert: a wine-tasting ride, the beach at Glenelg at sunset, cappuccino and panettone for breakfast. Besides, all the best restaurants are Italian - and closed between Christmas and New Year, what a fortunate coincidence.

Melbourne is shining and cheerful. Walking over Flinders street, Swanston and Elisabeth streets and Federation square to the Southbank is simply a pleasure. The skyline is beautiful, eating good food is a local pastime, and the king of noodles operates in the neighbouroods and makes giant portions. And - at last - restaurants do not close at 9 pm.

Sydney, however, is the star. Vibrant and laid back, healthy and voluptuous, daughter of captives and queen of culture. Mountains behind, a long bay at its heart and the infinite Ocean in front, with the majestic Opera House as its gate and Fort Denison as its outpost-turned-restaurant.
Take a ferry to Manly and enjoy the view and the breeze, the sea, the parrots and the windy beach. Or drive to Bondi beach, big waves, able surfers and good fun. But also a hike in the Blue Mountains to greet the Three Sisters or a stop at Penrith to greet an Italian-Australian family and enjoy old-style Italian hospitality and all the food that this implies.

So many things, so little time, so much desire to go back there again.

In Uluru

It is 44 degrees today and rangers' notices hung on isolated poles in the desert invite people not to go hiking today under the scorching sun. Red desert all around this solitary road. It is hard to believe that road sign on the left-hand side warning that the same road can be subject to floods. "When it rains every 7 or 8 years, it does happen" confirms Jenny, our tall, blond, solid local driver for today.

Snakes, lizards, scorpions and the other regular inhabitants of the area have all disappeared: who can be so fool and stay out there with this weather? But those fools have travelled thousands km by plane, car and coach only to see the show of these million-year-old rocks, shaped by the movement of the Earth and by the forces of nature, change colour as the sun marks the different hours of the day.

The show does not disappoint and, accompanied by a glass of good Chardonnay at sunset, the foolish tourists can happily go back to civilization with their load of pictures and heat-induced headaches.