Meat the Baltics

This entry comes from a little traversed place in the world - the Baltic states. Consumed and then spat out the other side of Soviet communism, the cute little countries of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia impress greatly.

Firstly, all of these countries have capital cities with gorgeous old towns not yet rampant with tour group hordes, each one bringing a very unique quality to the table. Riga (Latvia) has a stunning array of super rare Art Nouveau streetscapes combining steam age design with natural, fantastical elements - it's really something amazing to see up close. Tallinn (Estonia) easily picks up the award for having the most awesome medieval bars, restaurants and streets. Vilnius (Lithuania) has THE biggest Baroque old town pretty much custom built for being a movie set for period films. 

In fact Vilnius has it's own Eau de Cologne too. This was created by interviewing Lithuanian artists, gifted children, politicians, business people, scientists, visitors and blind people whilst simultaneously analysing folk culture, art and music to extract Lithuanian character. This was all then heavily compressed into a bottle by a master perfumer. Don't ask me how that last step is done, I'm fairly certain it involves a cauldron and much trouble, toil and spice.

Sadly though, the gorgeous old towns are like diamonds in the coal. They are always surrounded by a sea of Soviet style apartment blocks. These concrete monsters aren't a pretty site really, could do with a lick of paint and perhaps some grass mowing; but once you get past the dank stairwell and the two or three front doors (yes, that's two or three doors one directly behind the other) you typically enter a little oasis. Certainly each one we stayed in as we visited friends was a world away from the world and a wonderful home, but you'd certainly never know it from outside!

Being very, very Eastern Europe - meat is very much on the menu. But it's more than just the flesh, these guys get very creative in the ways you can enjoy animal fat too. In Lithuania, one platter started with some thinly sliced and rolled up lard, coupled with some pork scratchings and goose fat mixed with breadcrumbs. This is all enjoyed with a typical salad, i.e. gherkins. The main course; a veritable mountain of potato, roasted pig belly fat topped off with some roast pig ears. They're just so crispy and floppy all at the same time!

The food experience differed in Riga a little, with the introduction of the very popular national "Rye Bread Tiramisu". Also , by virtue of a fortuitous visit to a really small farm, fresh milk from the cow and untamed cottage cheese washed down with some freshly tapped Birch tree sap was on offer. Simple food it was, but taste revelations none-the-less. The farmer (through friendly translator Alex) said also that a stork had set up nest for the first time on the power pole in the front of the farm and on that night they received news of their first great, great grandchild ... as well as losing electricity to the house due to the stork nest catching fire.

Riga is also big on a magical brew called "Riga Black Balsam". Most people would simply call this alcohol, but around here it is so much more. It is revered as a mystical, medicinal broth which is essential to staving off sickness and lethargy (in the dark winter months especially). One shot for breakfast and you will feel much better and ready for the day, apparently. To be fair though, if I start the day with a shot of tequila then I think my start to the day would be uplifting too perhaps?

Estonian tastes culminated in copious consumption of absolutely DELICIOUS Elk soup, topped off with some roast boar pies and lingonberry juice. For desserts, look no further than almonds freshly toasted in a giant copper bowl with brown sugar, cinnamon, pepper, cloves, nutmeg and some orange peel. It is a swift and worthy absorbent of spare change.  

If you did not know, the Baltic countries have a lot of amber. Actually, "a lot" doesn't seem to impress the right quantity here, this placed is rammed from wall to wall with amber products and shops. It's pretty fantastic what they can do with this rock, but sadly it gets a little tiresome seeing this orange rock everywhere you turn.

Certainly one of the quintessential experiences here was the sauna with friends. This is very north European, especially the north-east. Many, if not most of you will know the sauna as that weird smelling room in expensive hotels that never has anyone in it and typically never heats up properly. What we had was on another level! We went out to a friend's tiny little wooden sauna in the woods where we lit a fire under a big pile of rocks inside said hut. Whilst this smoky little beast intensified, we went off foraging into the tall grass to find some herbs and branches; herbs to place down on the benches of the sauna for a spicy smell, branches for us to tie together into little leafy bundles - ready to hit each other with. The sauna was incredible, hitting and massaging each other with bushes was even better, being able to step outside and jump into a small cold lake filled with little fish that would nibble your dead skin away was better still. We did this all day, followed by a Latvian BBQ in the sunset. Magic through and through.

So I'll close this post off with some Lithuanian language lessons ... in phonetic so you can pronounce them:

Lah-bass ... Hello

Ee-keel ... See ya

No-ree kyow-less oh-syes? ... Want some pig ear?

Mee-loo bull-vess! ... I love potatoes!

Are thai day-gone-tees tsepelioniy are ver-two-vay day-gaw? ... Is that a flaming Zeppelin or is the kitchen on fire?

Let's Go to the Poles

This well "polished" chapter comes from Polska (Poland) and the first step in an adventurous return to Eastern Europe. I love this part of Europe, not only does it represent insanely good value for money, but in general you certainly feel more appreciated as a tourist; Western Europe gets so much tourism that it's difficult for you to be anything BUT a number. 

Besides, who can deny the intrigue of a tourism poster like this.

Stepping off the plane, it was now into an unbearable humidity and an eerie skyline; the sky was black from clouds with a bright golden sunset sneaking through in long hazy beams underneath. It looked a little apocalyptic, a description that was quite apt in the end. That night we were witness to massive, unrelenting thunder storms and many tornadoes ripped through central Poland destroying hundreds of buildings and farms. These storms seem to be kicking in most afternoons here, a weather cycle reminiscent of back home in Australia.

The weather was the only bleep, besides it the visit to Poland has been perfect. It is always a stroke of good luck to stay with some really cool people whom give fantastic insight into the history, culture and food of this young (yet very old) country. 

The Polish language is an incredible challenge to pronounce for English-types. The sorcery denizens here weave with their mouth when encountering a 'z' can only be witnessed and not described. It took no less than three days just to come somewhat close to the exacting pronunciation of "thank you"! Indeed hearing a Polish tongue twister can cause your ears to seize up for several hours, if you are lucky permanent damage will not be done. 

Funnily enough, Polish was the language spoken by Borat in the movie of the same name. A lot of Polish folk seem to have a good laugh at this and the fact Borat could have just have easily been taken out of the remote farmlands of Poland instead of Kazakhstan. And while I am at it, they could really do with hiring a few more dubbing translators for foreign films. EVERY single character in a movie being dubbed by the same two people gets a little obvious in my opinion...

I for one really didn't know what to expect from Poland in the food department; it's not exactly world renowned in culinary circles. One might guess an inclination towards disproportionate quantities of meat, which is certainly true to some extent, but there is a lot more to it then that. Firstly, Pirogi (the Polish equivalent of Ravioli) is absolutely delicious and will satisfy any hunger fast; it's all too easy to eat a paralysing amount of this stuff. Add to this some of the other great tastes such as spiced mince meat wrapped in cabbage (Gowabcki), paprika'd potato pancakes, beetroot soup, rye soup with egg and sausage and top that off with rye beer or warm beer with jam in it and suddenly a much loved state of Schadenfreude is regained when passing by a McDonald's. 

If you are offered "the grandma portion" here however, seriously consider whether you are capable of eating enough food for two people at this moment. Grandma's apparently will torture you with copious piles of food until you die here.

In terms of sights, the old towns in Poznan, Warsaw and Krakow are amazingly picturesque. Krakow in particular has the largest town square in Europe and is riddled with spires and churches, somewhat reminiscent of Prague. It also has a cool dude who pops his head out the top of the cathedral window main tower every hour and plays a little tune on his bugle for everyone. He's kind of a big deal around here and everyone gives him a wave accordingly.

Somewhat strangely, it seems to be the norm that even once you have paid for entry into a cathedral (or some such) this does not include the cost of taking photos. Each time you even think of raising a camera up above waste level someone always seems to appear out from behind a pillar or secret passage, ready to make their purse heavier and yours lighter. At one point I took a photo and then pretended not to speak Polish OR English so convincingly that the man left me alone. It pays to be stupid.

One of the things that has come flooding back to us here is the magic of train travel in Eastern Europe. The tracks are about as straight as cooked spaghetti, maintained to a barely functional state by a small army of lethargic bare chested men with moustaches in safety vests. This means the trains are incapable of speeds above "Usain Bolt", which in turn means a trip from A to B can take a VERY long time. In the current stormy conditions windows are unable to be opened on the trains and there is no air con to speak of, which basically all culminates in sitting in a tiny little humid compartment for hours with eight other people all marinating in each other's body odour and cigarette smoke laden clothes (smoking is a national sport here). It's something you get used to but I find it hilarious that our clothes smell more from one long distance train trip then walking around a city all day in the heat. Being a backpacker on the road for some time just accentuates these smells even more. Travel : it smells.

It's on the parting note that I will mention the harsher history of Poland that confronts you here. As a traditional stomping ground between Germany and Russia, Poland is no stranger to war and travesty. Indeed, nowhere is this more apparent than in the main square of Warsaw - where before and after photos highlight quite clearly the absolute and horrifying devastation experienced.

Further to this, there is perhaps one place that particularly sums up the terrors these lands have bore witness to: Auschwitz-Birkenau. While the "Arbeit macht frei" sign is now a replica since the theft of the original in 2009, the rest of this place is disturbingly real. The immensity of this death camp and the ruthless efficiency to which it put over a million Jewish people, Poles and other ethic groups to death is heart breaking. The mountains of hair, shoes, glasses and suitcases still piled up in the storerooms is single handedly the most chilling and creepy thing you could see. I hope the world experiences nothing like it again in our lifetimes.

Thor Blimey!

The next chapter of adventure takes place across the cold arctic seas to Norway. It's quite incredible to think that those crazy Vikings made this same journey in boats with no real navigational instruments or know how other than "stay close to the shoreline as long as you can". I wonder for every Viking ship that landed in Scotland, or Iceland, or England etc how many were lost as sea. Perilous stuff.

Norway, is a beautiful country that is comprised mainly of expansive fjords, expansive mountains and a latticework of expensive bridges and expensive tunnels that connect civilisation between them. It's quite stunning and after Iceland it was nice to see some trees again!

If you're not aware, Norway is hyper-expensive. Even the very remote Iceland was cheaper. To give you an idea, a small beer is about 6 to 7 Euro here, which means most backpacking tourists instantly become monks/nuns. And don't even think about a bottle of wine or spirits, those require a mortgage to be taken out or sacrificing your left nut/breast or first born. Even if you have the money, you have to be extremely lucky to buy alchohol during Norway's tight non-prohibition times too.

Indeed when asked "how did Norway fare through the recession?" the response from a local was "what is a recession?" which I think sums it up.

Norwegian cuisine revolves around getting imaginative and personal with fish. Fish overdose limits are always near after you are plied with delicious fish soup topped off with some fish cakes, coupled with fish pancakes, fish balls, fish pies and fish pudding. Suprisingly no one has made fish ice cream ... yet. It's a market gone begging in my humble opinion.

The folk here are also pretty big on a special type of brown cheese called Brunost which is consumed in epidemic proportions. This cheese is really something else, it's like cutting through a milk chocolate coloured block of putty. Once strategically applied to a waiting piece of bread or, in our case, a waffle it deploys a flavour and melted consistency that is like a cross between cheese and peanut butter. It's quite addictive!

The scenery here is majestic, particularly the train trip from Bergen to Oslo (when the train is not in a damned tunnel!). When the snow melts and springs comes to Norway the whole mountainsides come to life with greenery and a million little waterfalls. The water is crystal clear and amazing to drink, for that reason I feel Norwegians have a lifetime of disappointment ahead of them in terms of water quality pretty much everywhere else in the world.

The little Nordic houses perched on ledges in the mountains are extremely picturesque, especially those with grass on the roof which is used as a form of natural insulation. One roof had so much grass that it had a little goat on the roof who kept it mowed. The goat had his own little hut on the roof that he could sleep in too, this made me wonder if on the roof of that little hut was some grass with an even smaller goat and a smaller hut, and on the roof of that smaller hut ....

Norway is apparently the home of magical trolls which live in the forests everywhere just hanging out and being overall benevolent. Somewhat conveniently they turn into moss covered stones during the day when exposed to sunlight, only when it is dark do they become trolls again. It's important to be good friends with the trolls on your land as they bring you good fortune. It also helps to pump out a bit of "The Troll March" on your stereo too to make them feel comfortable. In other words; respect the rocks kids.

The main port of call was Bergen, a small sea side town. It rains a lot in Bergen, their current record is about 85 days straight, which was only just off the world record. It's comforting in some way to know that there is a place somewhere on Earth that has worse weather than England. If you can tolerate the rain Bergen has an incredible waterfront area know as Bryggen. This labyrinth of wonky wooden buildings with stairways going at every which angle is the closest thing you'll experience to a seaside pirate shanty town. It's really quite enchanting and fun to wander through, except when it floods, in which case all the shops at ground level go under water as the water comes up through the floorboards. All and all it's very impressive enough to be world heritage listed and is a great excuse to bring out a multitude of "Yarrggh"s.

Before I wrap this post up I have to make one special mention to Norwegian dancing, I am not sure of the name of it, but there is one dance in particular which results in the guy having to do a spinning Jean Claude Van Damme roundhouse kick to remove a hat from a stick in order to impress the woman. It's pretty awesome, do youtube it.

Now is rest time, all this ridiculously fresh and pristine mountain air and water makes people tired ... apparently. I leave you with some Viking wisdom on travelling:

"Never walk away from home ahead of your axe and sword. You can't always feel a battle in your bones or forsee a fight."

Perhaps a little aggressive for travel, so substitute "axe and sword" with "swiss army knife" and "battle" and "fight" with "picnic" and "surprise cheese platter" respectively.

Fire and Ice

Nothing sums up the country of Iceland better than the post header. This country is essentially a series of non-crossable ice glaciers in the centre, surrounded by lava field moonscapes devoid of trees. Explosive geysirs and steaming thermal vents are also thrown in generously to remind you that you are walking on a giant time bomb. With an economy as unstable as their airport-closing volcanos, the saying "they may not have the cash but they sure can bring the ash" is spot on.

In this volcanic hotbed, stands the chasm between the American and Eurasian tectonic plates. Here, new land is being constantly created for both continents in each direction. 2cm are added every year; always keeping things fresh. Additionally, the barrage of unfathomable sulphur stench that comes with incessant magma activity leaves you a little suspicious of how many people are getting away with passing wind on public buses. I suppose it only compounds the issue that the same sulfur laden geo thermal hot water is used in showers and the water is so soft that you must shower for an hour if you dare use soap. This means that everyone irrevocably smells like fart anyway after a single wash.

Flames, steam and smells included, there is a lot to see in this wild land, aptly described to us as "f$%kin brutal" by the chap at the information desk in the airport. Though I can tell you now that you had better enjoy driving in and out of massive fjords should you come here and hire a car. And be prepared to drive some mountain passes that you would normally ignore instantly back home; they're the ony way to get from A to B sometimes and they are particularly hairy.

You can cover some enormous distances on the roads too at this time of year this far north, since it never gets dark - ever. Sure there are some weird downsides, sleep can be tough and nightclubs are basically shitty bars with really thick curtains, but overall really long days enable you to get some amazing value for money as far as sightseeing goes.

Iceland, flying in the face of international convention as always, offers some lesser known delicacies to the adventurous diner. Skyr (milk that was poured over meat), puffin (yes, the cute little bird) and minke whale shish kebabs (yes, whale) .. affectionately referred to as "Moby Dick on a stick" are all on offer. Whale tastes like venison by the way, nothing fishy about it really.

It is kind of amusing however that despite the capital (Reykavik) having numerous awesome restaurants, the single most popular eatery is a decrepit old hot dog stand down by the old harbour. Seriously, this thing is constantly surrounded by people and the man inside makes satisfying hot dogs satisfyingly fast. When you see a photo on the wall inside the stall showing Bill Clinton chowing down on a dog, you know you've arrived at a hot dog stand of aficionados around the world.

Iceland, was colonised by the Norse vikings and that legacy still shines on to this day. Icelandic language is like a snapshot of Norwegian from 900 years ago, boats and fishing are par for the course, most people have names ending in their father's first name followed by "son" or "dottir" and men still have a fondness for epic neck-beards.

Iceland is covered in arctic horses too, which were brought across by the vikings. These horses are brilliant; they are social, friendly and love to sleep lying down on the ground which I am told is completely alien to other horse breeds. A ride on these beautiful creatures on black ash beaches in the presence of epic mountains drenched in afternoon sunlight was just magic. I seriously can't do justice to how fantastical this horse ride was in words.

Iceland was a stunning place with stunning character and equally stunning price tags ... and you know, it's not really made entirely of ice. I suspect Greenland isn't green either ...

Taunted, a second time ...

Having only been to gay Paris previously and having heard from many that the Parisian experience was vastly different from the rest of France. Now that the admiring of the funky Gaudi-ness of Barcelona was complete, there lay an opportunity to test this theory out and sneak over the border to visit the fabled "south of France".

There was a fleeting thought to go via the tiny principality of Andorra for shits and giggles, but in the end more time in France itself won out. That and backpackers typically have no need for Andorra's mystical tax haven powers right now. Actually I don't even know how that place classes as a country ... Luxembourg and Lichtenstein, yeah I am looking at you too!

Anyway.

The second French adventure most certainly was different. The weather here is simply perfect and the locals have a much more friendlier and happier outlook on tourists and life in general it seems. They also have a love affair with brilliant seafood, salad, bread and wine (which seemingly 99% of the countryside is dedicated to growing). When summer is in full swing the region really comes alive too, it felt like there was a fair or festival in every town visited - this equated to a lot of food tasting and drinking.

In terms of food highlights, any seafood cooked from "La Plancha" is brilliant, sea snail Escargot is amazingly good, and our great friend Francois offered an invite to his parent's house in Carcassonne where THE most amazing cassoulet ever was ready and waiting. This is easily the best French travel food and it is made a little differently from region to region but is normally comprised of haricot beans and meats such as duck or sausage. This is then stewed for hours and layers of breadcrumbs continually added over time. The end result is to die for and likely to interfere with normal locomotion for hours.

Speaking of Carcassonne, this place has a very cool castle that invokes all the right medieval clichés. The name apparently derives from a famous siege of the fortress where the besieged and hungry inhabitants decided to launch their last bit of food, a pig carcass, over the castle wall at the enemy forces (who were pretty damned hungry and low on food too). The attackers believed the defenders must have so much food left that they could afford to give them a whole pig that they gave up and left. It's a nice trick but unfortunately the castle is now under siege from tourists and even a flying pig can't stop these hordes!

Amusingly, the sport of choice in Carcassonne amongst the soldiers on the battlements (and teenage boys in modern times) was to drink yourself silly and then begin urinating against the inner castle wall whilst running along the length of the wall. The man who leaves the longest trail along the wall wins. Rather obtuse but certainly a sport I can seen the entertainment value in. How it is not an Olympic sport I don't know.

Petanque seems to be the sport of choice here amongst men nowadays though. If you have never seen it, it is a game where men throw heavy metal balls along the ground trying to land closest to a little wooden ball that is thrown at the start of the game. I have played this game with friends in Australia many times before however the key difference is that in French Petanque you play on a flat area of dirt whereas our Aussie version seems to have degenerated into a quest to find the shittiest piece of undulating terrain possible; the more tree roots, rocks and general debris in the way, the greater the challenge. The French have a lot to learn from us I think, it's just too easy to play on flat ground!

It really was a wonderful voyage through this realm. Picnics in the dark on mysterious wetlands, adventures in saucisson, house parties on top of mountains in the middle of nowhere, Two Unlimited dance music being played on a piano accordion and joining in singing "The Lost Cities of Gold" theme song in French; all great memories of a place that knows how to celebrate life, love, music and food.