Asia

There is rain, and then there is the sky falling down on top of you.

It didn’t matter how hard I squinted my eyes. I still couldn’t see a thing. But I didn’t care. The wet combination of sweat and sunscreen left my eyes burning like an open flame. I didn’t care about that either. With tears and rain streaming down my face, salty and sweet drops seemed to be taking turns in reaching my lips.

It doesn’t happen that often, but sometimes life steps up to give you Oscar-worthy chronology. This was one of those moments.

Less than an hour earlier I had left Malaysia. A country suffering from a historical hot season and drought. Forced to close schools as well as the water supply for whole cities. Then, literally one step across the border – the sky burst. And so did I.

I did have a place to go. But as I’ve told you twice already – I didn’t care. With the rain pounding down on my head and shoulders, I did what I always do. I mounted my bike and started peddling. Along whatever road I was on – I cycled. Fast. Without the intention of getting anywhere – I pushed my pedals. One after another. Harder and harder.

Heart racing. Tears flowing.

I love how my well my body serves me. Doing whatever it can to let me go though with all the madness my mind comes up with. This though, had nothing to do with providing oxygen to muscles or protecting eyes from salt. This was something completely different.

This was emotion.

‘I actually did it. I cycled to fucking Singapore.’

Crying like a baby. Laughing like a mad person. Shouting from the top of my lungs. Peddling. And going nowhere.

Living.

Rain, rain, rain. Big, heavy drops turning roads into rivers. But this wasn’t any rain. This was my entire journey falling down from the sky. The high mountains. The deserts. The people. The fear. Joy. The hardships that only I know of. And the secret gems that I’ll never tell anyone.

Pride, and relief. Utter happiness, and undefined sorrow. Everything, all at once.

Too much for to deal with then and there. So I didn’t.

Instead peddled. Hard and without stopping. I faced the sky to let the rain drops break towards my skin. Still blind. Still halfway to a heart attack. On one hand this was all too much. But it was also just one small thing.

This was a girl – and the simple joy of riding a bicycle.

Life? I love you so, so much.

Fredrika

PS.

Australia. You’re next!

Oh gosh.

White, never-ending beaches. Crystal clear, azure seas. Curries to die for. And some of the most effortless riding a cyclist will ever experience. I’m stating the obvious here, but I’m over the moon about Thailand. In love with everything from its otherworldly natural beauty to the intoxicating warmth of the people calling this place their home.

Physically this was my second ever visit to Thailand. Mentally though, I’d been here a thousand times before. To get myself through those stone cold nights in the Tibetan mountains, this was the place my mind had kept escaping to. Exchanging the freezing sleeping bag with warm sand against my skin. The frozen yak tea in my water bottle with a fresh fruit shake under a shady palm tree. Desperately trying to convince everything from my numb toes to oxygen-craving lungs, that this madness would all be worth it.

‘Suck it up. You’re moving south, God damn it.’

Some of you know how much I love cashing in on the reward of an epic view after a big climb. Thailand was a full month of it. With the country itself being the view, and the year long ride there being the climb leading up to it.

Trust me when I say I’ve been enjoying myself. To a ridiculous amount. Though not without at times catching myself with feeling sort of guilty about it. I started this whole thing wanting to test – and push – my limits. And however tough in the moment, what I value the most from this journey are the times when I’ve truly gotten to do just that.

In Thailand though? Not so much.

Unless you with limits refer to stuff like:

– How many ‘swim & shade’ beach breaks can be squeezed into one afternoon
– How many perfectly ripe, dirt cheap mangos it’s physically possible to down in one meal
– Exactly how little time one can actually spend in the saddle on a day of riding

Relaaax! Because of why not?

Thailand was a gem. And in perfect harmony with the lazy human being the ‘Land of Smiles’ turned me into, I’m not going to give you many more words than that. I did find a lot of stuff in my camera though, and figured a few bits and pieces from it won’t hurt anyone.

If nothing else, just to prove to myself that (in between the swims and pad thais) I actually did a little cycling over there.

M-I-L-E-S-T-O-N-E ! !

With the hot season at it’s peak, temperatures did reach quite impressing numbers and midday breaks from the sun was a given part of any day. I spent a lot of them on the beach, but did from time to time find myself some shade that wasn’t given by a palm tree.

I always love seeing what some random cave exploring can lead up to

From time to time I almost diluted myself into thinking that I was putting in some proper effort on the Thai tarmac. But was generally quickly reminded of reality by passing people who’re actually working hard.

Compare this…

…to THIS.

That somehow seems to be how it works when being a tourist in Thailand. Don’t mind worrying about anything. Whatever is going on, balance will always magically be restored before you know it.

When you’re without a place to sleep – friendly monks will appear, taking you in for the night.

When you’ve obviously had too much sun…

…a humongous downpour will come to cool down your brain.

Thailand just… works.

Which is my number one reason for loving the place. As well as why I felt so happy – almost relieved – to leave it. Thailand truly did it’s job. Providing me with the ultimate holiday from the holiday, and I did love it.

But awesome as it was, enough is enough.

Why this is funny?

Well. Because I’m now officially one of the 350 000 other Swedes leaving their Thailand holidays each and every year. Happy to have come. Even happier getting to leave. I’m basically just joining the choir here:

–

Thank you Thailand, it’s been great.

Now?

I’m ready to get back to work again.

–

See you in Malaysia!

Fredrika

‘No.’

‘Sir, I just…’

‘No.’

‘But what if…’

‘No.’

‘Would you…’

‘NO!’

It was high time to face it – this was a dead end. The stern military officer in front of me didn’t only have the last, he had the only word in the matter. And his decision was as clear as it was final.

Two full days of working some of the worst roads I’ve ever come across had almost taken me the whole way to Cambodia. Completely marinated in sweat and dust, I now had a mere 20 km to the border. And the only way from here was back. Back for a 160 km detour still taking me to that very same border crossing.

Damn it.

With arms folded across his buff chest, the tall officer glared down at me. I looked back at him. All I wanted to do was to flick that stupid military hat off of his disproportionally tiny head.

Sure, the last hours I had been peddling along with this melancholic feeling of leaving too soon. During the last days I had been introduced to a completely different world compared to the loud and chaotic Vietnam I had first entered, and I wasn’t really ready to leave it. I knew that this guy was sort of doing me a favor. But fact remains, I am a cyclist. I hate going back.

Especially when people in uniforms are telling me to do so.

–

Sorry, I’m skipping ahead here. Of course weeks of Vietnam had been leading up to this. Great weeks! A recap of which would look something like… this.

Crossing in from Laos I got a mighty welcome. Central Vietnam bombarded me with limestone mountains, flowing rivers, stunning caves, and picture perfect rice fields as far as the eye could see.

Phong Nha Cave

The beauty of this country is obvious. That was not what really hit me coming in though. With a population more than tenfold that of Laos, the shift in tempo was a given. The lovely friendliness with which I had been welcomed to Laos was just as present all through Vietnam, though the style was completely different. Regardless if it came to children cheering me on from across the street, a lady selling bananas or a car honking before taking over. Everyone and everything here was just – louder.

And it would be impossible to write this post without mentioning them. The motorbikes.

With 40 million registered motorcycles in the country, almost 1 out of 2 Vietnamese people (grandmothers and infants included) have their own motorbike. This is a country on two wheels, a fact which you’ll not only be reminded of while on the road. It’ll wake you up in the morning, keep you company during day, and finally rock you to sleep at night. The sound of 40 million roaring two-stroke engines. The soundtrack of Vietnam.

The coast is where the number of people and tourists (and motorbikes!) skyrocket. With the crowds come everything from heavy traffic to hassling, and all the things I usually try to keep on arm’s length. However, after being landlocked for what literally seemed like forever. I could not not make my way out to the sea.

On top on the Hai Van Pass

Thumbs up!

A brief coastal ride gave me just what I wanted – a few days of epic views and salty hair. Saving my true beach rides for Thailand though, I headed west up the highlands first chance I got.

In some places finding the feeling of going off the beaten path basically just means not riding on the major highway. In other places you have to work for it a little (or a lot) more. Vietnam is one of them. And in search for my very own corner of this quite crowded country, I found just what I was looking for.

My Vietnam.

Possibly the friendliest corn lady in South East Asia

Still unaware of that the path I was on would eventually lead me straight into sensitive military frontier headquarters, I spent a bunch of truly amazing days on the bike. Slow going on bumpy roads, relative solitude, perfect camping and people that don’t expect to see you. All I ever wish for in a ride.

Writing this though I realise that maybe I should also add ‘being caught rambling around inside restricted frontier areas’ to that list. Because that part, simply got me more of all of the above.

If nothing else, I would say an apology is in order. Here it goes.

–

I’m sorry, Mr. Military Man. Sorry for those things I called you inside my head. And for wanting to flick that cap off of yours. Which by the way, is totally of the appropriate size.

And thank you, Mr. Military Man. Thank you for standing your ground. And for sending me back to this.

–

Tailwinds,

Fredrika

‘Hey you! Aren’t you… Fredrika?’

Fresh off the plane from Thailand to Laos I was still comfortably snuggled up in the love bubble that had surrounded my whole being for the last couple of weeks. My family had already landed and gone on with their lives back home in Sweden, but I still hadn’t really felt the need to join my own reality just yet. I was just back at the Luang Prabang hostel that had stored my bicycle while I was away, but before I had even dropped my panniers on the dorm room floor, someone was addressing me. In Swedish?

I turned around.

‘So the bicycle upstairs is yours! I’m Björn. I’m reading your blog! We were actually talking about you earlier today.’

Whoa.

Weird, weird, weird.

I do know that I am keeping a blog. I also do know that there are people out there reading it. But to unexpectedly bump into one of them that doesn’t have their backside glued onto a saddle? That was unexpected. And hadn’t it been for the friendly smiles of Björn and his backpacker companion Johan, I’m quite confident I’d also have been a bit embarrassed.

Excited as I was to reunite with my bicycle, and officially kick off the Southeast Asia leg of my journey, I had anticipated a bit of a vacuum getting back to Laos. Saying another indefinite goodbye to my loved ones obviously includes some heartache, and I had gotten myself ready to take on another battle with the empty feeling I struggled with as I was peddling away from everyone and everything I ever knew on those very first trembling days of this journey.

Turned out though, my new Swedish roomies would save me from – or at least postpone – all that. Instead of pondering on when I’d get to hug my Mom or crack jokes about my brother’s haircut next time – I was sipping fruit shakes at the night market, engaging in sprited and highly scientific debates on what actually is the best Swedish fika (google it).

As it turned out, these guys had both been playing around with the idea of taking the plunge and head out for bicycle travels of their own. But – as so many others – never really gotten to it. When it comes down to it, it simply is too complicated. Too much to organise. Too many decisions to take. Too many unknowns.

Naturally I played my part of the game as well. Dumbing the whole process down to an extent that makes preparing breakfast seem like an overwhelming task in comparison.

‘Buy a 2nd hand bicycle. A tent. Strap it with your backpack to the rack. Pick a direction. Go.’

Johan had his flight home a week later, Björn hadn’t. And even though (at least initially) the whole conversation was a joke and strictly hypothetical, this new glimmer in his eyes was increasingly obvious. As though the big smile on his face hadn’t been enough on it’s own.

Already next day we all parted ways. The guys taking a bus south, and I was strapping my bicycle to the roof of another one – headed north back up to the Chinese border. I had already been excited to get back on the road again, but meeting Björn and Johan had been yet another reminder of how incredibly lucky I am to get to be doing this. Living my dream, all day every day. It would be an insult to those who aren’t, to forget to appreciate that.

Back at the China – Laos border crossing

Right off the bat Laos treated me to a royal experience in the saddle. The lush north is a complete wonderland of rolling hills and steep passes topped off with some quite otherworldly views. I thought I already had appreciated them, as twice before I had watched them with my nose pressed up against the bus window. This one time on the bike though, brought the value of a million bus rides combined. There is really no denying it. Experiencing nature is simply not done through a glass window.

I don’t want to see a view. I want to feel it.

Absolutely breathtaking, and serene but still challenging as it was, there was something about riding the northern part of Laos that didn’t quite resonate. My boxes were definitely ticked, and it was all seemingly there. Except for the feeling of adventure, that had been my constant companion all through the Middle East, Central Asia and China.

I had difficulty pinpointing it at first, but as the days went by it got more and more obvious. Was this… too easy? I knew it is all about mindset, but I still had difficulty setting mine straight.

Now don’t get me wrong here.

Laos is one of the poorest countries in the world. A country where almost half the population is forced to live on less than 1.25 USD/day. The tiny and completely undeveloped villages I passed were mostly made up by a string of small, beaten down bamboo houses, and communal tap of water used for showering and laundry.

With chickens, children and dogs (all equally dusty) running all around, people gather around small wood fires to eat and socialise after long days of working on the rice fields.

For most people in Laos, life is not too easy.

For me though? A well off tourist with budget enough to spend every single night in a guesthouse? I would like to say that it is.

On this journey, helping hands from locals have been essential for me. Being fed by that shepherd in the outskirts of Tajikistan when something to eat simply wasn’t to be found. Or getting invited to warm up and stay in the nomads’ heated tent on the Tibetan plateau, when the cold was making me seriously wonder how I’d ever make it though the night.

I’ll never dilute myself to the point where I’d ever mistake myself for being anything else that a tourist. But the somewhat obscure places I’ve gone to, and the mean of transport which I’ve been using to do so, have indeed given me a sense of – even if only for brief moment – joining the life of the people along my path. Doing so has been completely vital and at times I’ve simply had no other choice.

In Laos though. When being invited to sit down by one of the village fires, taking a bite of a newly grilled piece of buffalo skin. I felt like I was in a museum. What was going on around me obviously wasn’t fiction, but I couldn’t really getting over the feeling of merely being an observer. I was never in it.

As women queued up to wash their hair, I didn’t. I didn’t need to. I was never more than a day away from a hot shower. And buffalo skin? All of a sudden it was my curiosity – rather than hunger – chewing away on things like that.

Zipping up my tent at night, I almost felt like if I’d just be silent enough, I’d be able to hear the beating music from the night clubs of Luang Prabang, Vang Vieng or Vientiane – whichever was the closest backpacker hotspot that day. It turned out Southeast Asia was not only a new chapter in theory. The days went on and more and more I realised that change was here – and there was nothing I could, or should, do about it.

So.

Can’t change it? Embrace it.

And I think that by now I have. I mean, after all I am here. I actually made it to Southeast Asia. On a bicycle! I’ll gladly have a bed and a shower at the end of the day. I’ll have one – no, actually two – of those fruit shakes. I figued I’ve sort of earned them.

Although. And I don’t think I really need to tell you this. Obviously I still prefer the rides in between the cities, rather than the beer and backpackers inside them.

Who wouldn’t?

Making it to Vientiane I was up for a few days of rest in order to get my upcoming Vietnam visa in order. Guess who arrived there the same evening as me?

Björn!

On. His. Bicycle.

Now this guy is amazing. What he did after we said our goodbyes in Luang Prabang a couple of weeks earlier?

Bought a 2nd hand bicycle. A tent. Strapped his stuff to the rack. Chose a direction. And went.

We’d kept in contact as he’d made a big loop through the country, and I was so happy to get to see him as he returned to his starting point in the capital. We spent a few days being super tourists together, and on the morning of us both leaving we rode out of the city like total partners in crime.

I was headed further through Laos, and Björn was hitting Thailand – taking on the 2nd country of his first epic bicycle tour. And he did it like a boss! I’m still so impressed by this guy.

In life – not only as it comes to something as silly as riding a bicycle – making a change, or taking a leap of faith can be horribly complicated. Too complicated in fact. Too much to organise. Too many decisions to take. Too many unknowns.

I think for most of us, if we’re completely honest – it’s too scary. And Björn is a good reminder that it doesn’t always have to be. Sometimes we just got to go with it. Because really – that thing we want, is usually ever only a plunge away.

Obviously – watching him set off for the Friendship Bridge over the Mekong was a total proud mother moment.

Can you really blame me?

Fredrika

Yunnan – my 4th, and the southernmost province of China – was a whole new experience from start to finish. By the time of me getting there I already knew this of course, as it seems to always be the case in this country – containing more separate worlds than one think could exist within one nation’s borders.

Yunnan hosts some 50 different ethnic groups and provides it’s people with nature ranging between everything from the massive and merciless mountains in the north to the thick and tropical jungles of the south. But expecting variety is one thing. Experiencing it, is of course another – and the whole thing turned out to be a lot different from how I had first imagined it.

A lot of the surprise was directly connected to two particularly crazy French people, and a cycling clog. Yeah, one of those wooden, somewhat pointy, Dutch clogs. A clog which of course makes up a complete pair with a second clog of the same size. This second one though, plays no part in my Yunnan experience, as it’s still long lost somewhere on the empty steppe of Uzbekistan. Even saying that the first one is, is kind of stretching it. The man insisting to keep putting his foot inside it is though. As if only to put the craziness of the French to shame.

However, all of that comes later. Before all the madness that would eventually come to be my Yunnan – I arrived.

Once again I was booming down big mountains. The difference from all the other times I’d done this in China was that this time I was actually bound to stay down there. For a long time. I was well aware that Yunnan no doubt would give me my fair share of climbing, but mountains? No, that chapter was officially finished.

Though life was still good.

Nature was doing it’s best to give me a colorful welcome and I was rolling straight into the town on Shangri-La. A finish line which meant an at the time extremely needed time for rest. And an even more needed visa extension.

A week spent in Shangri-La was the start off of a short but intense dash down the beaten tourist track. One I have to say I enjoyed immensely. This was actually the place where I met my very first non Chinese people since leaving Kashgar almost 2 months earlier.

With Canadian & English friends in Shangri-La

I continued on to the beautiful but crowded town of Lijiang

From a 2 day trek through the Tiger Leaping Gorge

Let me tell you it was a cool feeling to – at last – be able keep a conversation where the main concern actually was what was being said, and not the words being used to say it. To meet people who had somewhat of the same western references as myself, and together try to make some sense of that always so confusing, and seemingly constantly expanding puzzle of China.

It didn’t take much though. Actually it took a lot less than I’d have thought, before I was completely done with these stuff. Letting TripAdvisor & Lonely Planet set the agenda. Staying put in the tourist herd. Snapping photos of those ‘Must See’s. (Who in all honestly, very rarely are just that). And then end up in another hostel with a new bunch of people who all had, or were just about to, experience exactly the same things as me and everyone else.

Gosh. Are you coming to the same conclusion as I did?

It was high time to hit the road.

So I did.

And that’s when real things started happening.

On the road south is when I bumped into French cyclists Amelie & Kris. A lovely couple with whom I spent a couple of nice days and evenings until all of ours next stop – the city of Dali. After a detour passing the old town of Shaxi we had a sweet ride by the lake into Dali, getting our first proper glimpse of agricultural Yunnan.

After a few good days together I thought our roads would part. My plan from there was clear and with zero wiggle room for compromise. My family, most of whom I hadn’t seen once since setting off some 10 months ago, was coming to Thailand to celebrate New Years. And if I would just get my ass to Bangkok in time, I would be joining them for the occasion.

That I would be taking transports for the whole thing to work was a given, but still I was up for a classic race against time. In order to later get back to my last point and keep cycling, I first needed to get out of China. And to make it in time to my family, I needed to do it in time for Christmas.

Easy.

Considering the distance and elevation ahead, easy was perhaps not the term for it. But neither was impossible. Far from it. I had had my rest, I had the best motivational carrot imaginable, and I was headed for those 10 straight days of tough cycling with a good feeling.

To my great surprise I found out that apparently I wasn’t the only one. The Crazy French, with no apparent reason not to keep on with their slow mornings and juggling breaks, decided to join the party.

‘We’ve been lazy for a long time now. So why not? Let’s cycle!’

And before we had even set off the next morning, our trio had been expanded with yet another mad man – Ritzo from the Netherlands. Now what went through this guy’s head here is still a mystery to all of us. Not least to himself I think.

Short version: Ritzo rolled in to Dali late evening, ready for a big break. Big break for real, that is. Aiming to pick up an English teaching job, maybe Dali could actually become home for the upcoming year? Those big things would have to wait for a few days though. First things first: getting a shower, washing those dirty clothes – and finally doing something about the bike. That would be enough for now.

…

Or so he thought.

The next morning Ritzo was standing there – again. Bike loaded and ready to hit the road. This time with a couple of crazy French and a Swedish girl in a rush. His clothes just as dirty as yesterday. He still hadn’t showered. God, he hadn’t even had breakfast. What was this? And why..?

No one has the answer to those questions anymore now than we did then.

But don’t worry – we left before he had time to change his mind!

In the back: Ritzo, Kris & Amelie

The upcoming 10 days and 900 something kilometers, I won’t say too much about. I can’t. Nothing I’d say would come close to doing this madness justice. Our ride south through Yunnan was gorgeous. But more than that, one of the most chaotic experiences ever. Landslides, crashes, road blocks, stomach bugs, mechanicals and mud roads being just a few ingredients to it all.

Got this one from my brother. I think it pretty much sais it all.

It was dirty. Sweaty. And pretty damn exhausting. But most importantly incredibly beautiful, and some of the better 10 days I think I’ve had on a bike. Here are a few clues to what the whole thing looked like.

First camp night. Completely clueless of that this was just the calm before the storm…

…that the upcoming day introduced itself in the form of a huge landslide

Locked in overnight, loosing a valuable half a day

Being back on obstacle free roads…

…rarely lasted very long.

Stuck waiting for the 3rd landslide in 2 days to be cleared

Despite continuously testing us. Yunnan never let us loose faith, and always seemed to know just when to throw in some encouragement to keep up motivated.

…Unfortunately we were usually thrown right back into the Yunnan reality a bit quicker than one might would have preferred. As soon as we got too relaxed, the road disappeared. Literally.

When China takes your road away…

…you kind of have to find yourself a new one

Great views are great. But on the top of passes, it’s even better when you actually get to see them. Or anything at all for that matter.

So much easier with these guys!

The toughest times we had were all in the first half of our ride. Things cleared up and soon we actually started noticing that the cycling was enough of a challenge all in itself. The topography of this region is at times incredible demanding on a loaded bike. The hills are steep. And many. Actually, hills are all there is. You’re either going down at great speeds, or up in complete snail speed. And as the equation reveals, you’re in all likelihood climbing during 9 out of 10 given moments.

We passed Pu’er & went through one of Chinas big tea production regions

…and camped accordingly

Well, don’t ask me about the clog. Ritzo claims it’s super functional…

Believe it or not, but we did keep moving south, making good speed. Every day nature took big steps. Banana trees, sugar canes, pomelos, coconuts, tea & coffee plantations. Not to mention all those fruits and plants we didn’t even know the name of. Amazing is the word.

A very welcome addition to everyday life on the road

Christmas started coming around the corner…

…and we officially crossed the Tropic of Cancer! Wow.

The big day arrived!

And so did we, reaching the Laos border just on time.

Three months. Between 5 & 6 thousand kilometers. China. That this humongous country actually could come to an end? Crazy thought. I was more than ready for it though. Not so much because I wanted to get out of there. More that by now I really wanted to step into something new.

And I really would. Starting off this great new chapter of cycling Southeast Asia.

But before doing that, I’d just cross the border in style (anything for the Christmas spirit, right?).

I’d leave my bike. And then.

Then I’d head off to find my family.

Until next time,

Fredrika