Since me and Isaac will now work together on the same project for the next two years (doing an internship with YWAM Townsville) we have decided to put our blogs/newsletters together and collect it all in one place. This doesn't mean that this blog will be closed down (but it might), or that Isaac will stop writing on his site. But it means that we will, during these two years, primarily focus on posting things on our new blog.
So, if you want to read more about what happens on the East Coast of Australia, click on the link below!

Another one of them roadtrips

The heat did come back to Tamworth after all the rain and the lawn looks a little less green than it did a while ago. I'm getting used to 30+ temperatures being the norm and try my best to not fall asleep in the afternoons, when the heat gets the most intense.
Isaac took a week off work at the end of November and went with me on a roadtrip around New South Wales to visit friends and family. It sounds a bit lame to say "we had a great time", but we did. Even the 7-hour drives were enjoyable, mainly because we listened to Thrive and Jeremy Camp on repeat, talked about everything under the sun (and things that are not), took scenic routes (even if they were detours) and stopped at random places of beauty.
First stop was a place you probably have never heard of; Grogan. Our friend Niki from the LTS invited us to come out to her dad's farm out there. We spent the days chasing sheep in the ute (pick-up truck), catching yabbies (crayfish) in the dams, eating lots of great food and taking an excursion to Temora (which was quite a lovely little country town). Just before we left, Niki's dad let me come with him for a lap in the header (harvest was on). It was more fun than I thought it would be, although I still think Isaac was more excited about me going than I was. All I could think of was (only Swedes will understand this reference) "Rädda Joppe - död eller levande!".
I really loved being out there, so thankful that Niki invited us out. My first time eating freshly caught yabbies (at least Australian) and seeing a mob (I've just learned that they're called mobs or troops - doesn't troop sound very grand?) of kangaroos leaping alongside the car.
Next planned stop was Wollongong, but we got detoured on the way there, due to a car crash or road works - not entirely sure what was happening. The detour took us really close to a sign towards Fitzroy Falls, which amazed us with being a gorgeous lookout over the waterfall and a massive gorge. It was breath-takingly beautiful, but the pictures can't show you what it really felt like.
A short stop at Robertson's pie shop gave us energy to tackle the Macquarie Pass, a windy road that in certain corners gives a friendly suggestion that you should slow down to 15 km/h. Almost killed the poor car we drove.

Arriving at Wollongong, we met up with Melissa and begun an epic hiking journey down the 27 km Coastal Track. The trail will take you through Royal National Park along the coast of Australia and could potentially be done in a day (we took 2 days, just to enjoy it more). I thought 27 km down the coast would be exciting for the first bit and then, when you're tired and want to get back home, you might get sick of it. That didn't happen at all (the tired bit did, but not the bored-of-scenery bit). I used up my whole memory card for my camera (which, admittedly, isn't very big), just because I kept getting fascinated by the changing scenery. We started of on snow-white cliffs high above the sea, crossed a few sun-drenched beaches, found a dam to cool down in, entered mist-clad hills and palm jungles, to find the hidden train station at Otford among kookaburra and lyrebird singing. It was probably one of the best hikes I've ever been on, even if it rained and we all felt miserable during parts of it.

Being a national park, the area was naturally filled with wildlife of all kinds, most of it still new to me. One of the highlights was a lyrebird putting on its show for a female. These birds are amazing in their repertoir; they can mimic literally any sound. It sounded like a cacaphony of birds; kookaburras, cockatoos, finches and all these birds I don't know because I haven't lived here long enough yet. Blue-bottles (or Portuguese Man-o-War) is still something I don't want to see alive up close. Isaac had some very close contact with a couple of leeches that decided his feet were the most lovely thing ever created. Something else that was a bit too close to his feet was this snake that we still haven't been able to identify. It could be a brown snake, but being from a country with no more than 3 snakes to pick from, none of them which will kill you (unless you're terribly allergic), I have absolutely no clue what this could be. It seemed quite content with merely giving us a dirty look and then move on across the path.
From our time in Sydney and Newcastle, I don't have that many pictures (see above-mentioned comment about running out of memory on my SD-card). However, it was not less awesome seeing Josh & Caitlyn, Susanna, Uncle Simon, Mitch and all the rest we met. At the YWAM Newcastle base, someone even gave me some Swedish candy (djungelvrål). I don't think she realised how valuable those little black liqourice monkeys are here. Another thing I found that I liked was, quite surprisingly, frozen fanta with ice-cream float. It's sickly sweet, slightly fuzzy and really cheap. I don't like McDonalds, but I must say that they did a good job with this.
Despite having to constantly refill the oil in the car (we went through 4 litres during the trip altogether), it was really enjoyable and it was great to be able to explore a bit of Isaac's state. I'm getting really fond of New South Wales.


I've rewritten this update so many times it's ridiculous. This time I won't leave the laptop until it is finished.
Me and Isaac have left Queensland and are at the moment in Tamworth, a town in New South Wales of about 50 000 people, where Isaac has spent most of his life. It looks nothing like where I've spent most of mine.
Townsville has been great. It has been tiring, frustrating, challenging and absolutely amazing. When I finished uni, I hoped I never had to do that much school work again, but I should have known better... I've learned a lot about myself, about others and about leadership. It feels like I've grown more in the last few months than I previously did the last few years of my life. Being married helps to grow you as well. It really has been awesome.
We're spending the rest of our time in Australia here in Tamworth, with Isaac's family. Isaac is busy with work (fixing up old trucks to be resold) and I'm actually not really busy at all. Since I'm on a tourist visa, it's a bit like I'm stuck on a forced vacation. Since I've been studying and working quite intensively the last 5 years, I probably do need some sort of vacation, but it's very abrupt to go from the full-on Leadership Training School in Townsville to suddenly have nothing more to do than what I want to do. To be honest, I'm not that great at doing just what I want to do. I produce nothing, I feel tired and I get extremely frustrated. I struggle to write when I know I have all the time in the world to do so. Isn't it silly? Since 2010, I've been longing for some time on my own so I can be creative and write. Now I have all that time and it feels as if all my creativity has left.
Don't think it's all bad though, because it really isn't. Tamworth is terrific and Isaac's family is awesome. From the stories Isaac told me, I expected this to be a dry place with burnt grass and an unrelenting sun shining down from a perfectly blue sky. And it was, for a start. The skin on my hands cracked the first few days here because the air was so dry. Then the rains and the storms came. I saw more rain here the first week than I did during our 3 months in Townsville. In fact, if it wasn't for the heat and the emerald-green grass, it would feel much like any November at home in Sweden.
We've been asked so many times about our future plans that I almost want to scream. The reason we haven't said anything is because we weren't sure about anything. Talking about plans that we weren't sure about felt about as interesting as talking about a cake that you might or might not bake. It only tastes good when you actually bake it. Or it might taste absolutely awful and you might burn it. I'm not much of a talker, maybe you've noticed by now. Hah. (Not saying it's bad to discuss things. I just don't like when the discussions won't get anywhere.)
I still can't give you any details, simply because no contracts have been signed, no applications have been made, which means that things can still change.
But, for those of you that can't wait and don't care about the details; here is the rough plan. Me and Isaac are coming home, as planned, on Christmas. We'll come straight from Tamworth's summer to Swedish winter. (Doesn't that sound marvelous? It actually does, I miss the snow.) If all goes well, we'll have a teeny-tiny apartment to move in to and spend 6 months in. Please come visit. Please don't come all at once. Then we'll shoot off again in June, back to Townsville to spend another 2 years in Australia. After that, I don't know. But we really love Sweden. Both of us.
So, that's the rough plan. As I said, nothing is set in concrete yet, so we might not get the apartment. We might not be able to go back to Townsville. Visas might not work out. Prayers are very much appreciated. We always need them.
Stockholm, see you again when you run on 6 hours of daylight and Australia will be getting unbearably hot.
Some adventure stories will hopefully follow soon. I just felt like this information dump probably was enough for now.

Mr. Miller and the Great Commission

I had planned to do an update and tell you a bit about the ship that we live on, but I think that'll have to wait a while. Instead, I would like to quickly mention what I've been learning in class. I won't bore you with details, since it's impossible to cram 5 days worth of teaching into one blog post.

We've had Darrow Miller come over to talk to us on the Leadership School, a guy that mainly lectures on worldview. I've heard people mention worldview before, but didn't care that much about it. At uni, someone told us that it's often very difficult to work with villagers in developing countries because they have such a different worldview compared to ours. Now I think I understand a bit better what they meant.

Several African languages (and apparently some Asian ones) lack a future tense. They say that they're "walking backwards into the future". To them, life's about moving closer to their ancestors. You might hear that and say "yeah, that's cool, I've never thought of it that way. It's so interesting with different cultures!". And it is. I love different cultures. But the implications of that statement means that these cultures can never plan, because life is just something that happens to you, not something you can change. The future doesn't exist.

This mindset is not exclusive to developing countries, not at all. It tends to be more common there though, and it's one of the reasons why many of them are still stuck in poverty, no matter how much support goes to them. Many nations and people think of life as something that just happens to you. Some even say "well, if it happens it's because God wants it, so there's nothing I can do about it". Well, the God I follow isn't like that. You can't change everything in life - but you can change some of it.
If you look at life as something that just happens to you, then it doesn't matter what you do. If your life sucks, it will always suck - if that's your worldview. I've heard stories at uni from people who have tried to change the fisheries in poor villages to make their life better, but the only answer they get is "the government doesn't care about us anyway, our neighboring villages destroys everything anyway, so why would we do anything about our situation? It will never change." And that's the problem. If you believe nothing will ever change, why try?

I want to believe that nothing's impossible. I want to inspire people to believe that life can change for the better. I want people to look at their life proudly and say "yes, I really could change my circumstances to the better, no matter what other's said about me". I don't want poverty and corruption to be bigger than God and the creativity of a human mind.

And in case you somewhere read in to this that I hate other cultures and that they're all stupid, you probably have to read it again. Cause that's not what I'm saying. I want to challenge your way of thinking, the way that you solve problems and remind you that we all have the power to inspire others and change the world around us. Poverty is often not an impossible problem, it's a mindset. 

LTS - Decisions

Alright, here we go. I haven’t intentionally avoided updating, but the limited internet access has done it for me. Reason why? We’re on a boat.

Yeah, that’s right. We’re back in Townsville, Australia again. And we’re in YWAM again. For those of you that didn’t read this last time I was away, I’ll just quickly explain what I’m are doing here.
YWAM (Youth With A Mission – or Youth Without Any Money as some people call it) is a Christian mission organisation that you’ll find all over the world. Last time I was here, I did their basic level training school, a DTS. I absolutely loved it and hoped I’d be able to come back one day. Which I now have, since a week back.
Together with Isaac, I’m doing a 3-month school in leadership. Week one has just gone by and it’s pretty intense already. At the moment, we’re learning something that I really badly need, which is how you make decisions. Not a decision as in “should I have a burger or a salad for dinner?” but more as in “what is the best way to see my plan work out?”. I’ve always thought of plans as in “I want to do this, this and this, and then we’ll see what it leads to” but we’re learning to think more as in “what do you want to achieve?” and when you know what you want to achieve and why you want to achieve it, then you can start thinking about how you want to achieve it. I’ve always done it backwards.

Last time I was here, the campus was further out of town, more in the suburbs. Now it’s moved in to the centre of Townsville, to an old TAFE (a type of school) building. It makes quite a big difference. There’s more people around, the beach is closer and there are more rooms than I can count on campus. It’s just... bigger.
Another difference is that I’m not actually living on campus, as I was last time. Instead, me and Isaac are living on the medical ship that belongs to YWAM. This is not the same ship that I went with to Papua New Guinea two years ago, but a newly acquired one. It’s a former cruise ship, and just like the new campus, ginormous compared to the old one. Isaac and I have our own cabin and everything.

Life could be worse. I’m back to one of my favourite places in the world, I’m learning skills that I know I’ll use for the rest of my life, I’m living on a ship in one of the most exciting places to be for a marine biologist, I get to go out for a ginger beer every now and then (a soft drink, not actual beer), I’m back with people I love. It rocks.

Life, universe and everything

Yeah, so here we go again. My absence from the internet could best be explained by "I had to write a master thesis, but got way too restless and ended up doing other things and then again felt guilty for not writing it and stopped writing anything altogether". This includes stories and blogpost, neither has been a priority, both has been something I've wanted to do though.
In case you're wondering what I wrote about - read the earlier posts.
In case you're wondering how it went - I don't know yet, ask me in a month.

I actually wanted to write this more as a life update. For those of you that haven't got a clue of what's going on. Most of you that read this have though. So. Well. Lots of things.
The next five weeks I'm spending out here
On Askö. A tiny island south of Stockholm. Since I've finished my master thesis, you might think I'm done with my studies now. Well, sort of. I have 7,5 more credits I need to take before I get my degree, and I'm doing them as an internship at the university. Which at the moment means field work. And if you picture the stunning beaches of Zanzibar, relaxing in a little boat looking at colourful fish, you're wrong. And if you think that's what I did for my master's, you're a little bit less wrong, but still wrong. No, Askö is beautiful, it really is. It's 14 m/s winds, getting sunburned while feeling cold and trying in vain to make a functional cage out of plastic mesh and metal bars. I love it.

I won't spend forever here though. It's gonna be five great weeks and then back to Stockholm again. To get married. Which is probably even more awesome. Because Isaac is awesome. And God is awesome. Life's awesome.
If we're staying in Sweden? I don't know. No one knows but God alone. Which is really very true in this case since one of us will always be away from home, whereever we go. But we have a starting point for the first 6 months. That starting point is here
The same place we met, in Queensland, Australia. To do a Leadership Training Course. Why? Well, for me it's something that's very needed. I've been thrown into leadership roles quite a few times now. And I can't handle them. Not because I'm a bad leader, but because I'm not a good one. If that makes sense. But I would love to learn. I would love to be able to say "Yeah, I can take that on!" and not feel like I'm gonna implode 2 days later. Maybe I'll learn now.

We have tickets back to Sweden for Christmas. We'll most likely be on that plane home. Asking either of us for a life plan before then is quite pointless at the moment though. We're getting there. I'm superexcited about life in general. A bit scared. Extremely worried at times. Trying to figure out what the meaning of it all is. Remembering what it is. Smiling like crazy. Calculating if we have enough money to get to Townsville. Realising that we don't. Realising that we'll get there anyway. Realising God is trustworthy. Getting into stupid arguments. Writing stories in my head.
Yeah. We're getting there. One step at a time. But just so you know, that's the plan. Updates will hopefully follow more regularly.

Adventure is out there!

Oceans - Home again

It's strange to think that I've been back from the heat and the tropics for more than a month now. All I have left from Zanzibar is a fading tan, blurry underwater pictures and insufficient data.
Our last 10 days were spent on Mnemba, an exclusive luxury island with a stunning coral reef and sand like snow. There were rumors of turtles hatching during our time there, but they never did. Oh well, maybe some other time.
Some of the things I saw on Mnemba are fish I've been hoping to see since the first day I arrived. Among them are my favourite of all times, the lionfish. Elisa pointed out how they seem more to fly through the water than to swim. It seems so effortless and so elegant. And yet their fins are venomous enough to half-kill you (or completely). So no wonder I was slightly nervous when one of them decided to take a closer look at me and force me to back off. It doesn't matter how small it is, I won't mess with it.
Cowfish are something else though, they're some of the most bizarre fish I've ever encountered, with their "horns" and "legs" protruding from their boxshaped body. They really do look like angry, miniature cows propelling themselves through the water masses. I couldn't help but laugh when I saw it. So. Cute.
And of course, the best of all. I found Marlin and Dory out on their way looking for Nemo. Our poor assistant struggled to see what I found so interesting with a clownfish and a surgeonfish. 

I don't know how to describe the beauty I have seen and how incredible it has been to travel to this part of the world and live there for two months. I will miss getting lost in the maze that is Stone Town, eating cinnamon gelato and diving down into the surreal underwater worlds.
Still, when people ask me where my favourite place in the world is, I always answer Sweden. This is not me trying to be all nationalistic or saying "home is always better"; it's just the truth. I've seen many place and nothing quite like here. When I wake up at home in darkness and look outside at the snow glistening like diamonds or to a dawn sprinkled with peach and apricot, then I get a glimpse of what Heaven will be like. There's nothing that compares to the barrenness of the North and the deep forests of the West. There is a certain kind of freedom in Sweden that I miss anywhere else I go.
But if you ask me where I'll end up - I have no idea. No idea whatsoever. Ask God. He knows better than me. I'm just tagging along the best I can.

Redline Racer - Automatic Transmission

This post will be completly different from most of my other posts, because it won't really be about something relevant (not that all of the others are either), not about the ocean, travels or anything remotely similar. I just felt like telling you about a PC game from the 90's; Redline Racer.

Being together with Isaac, it's almost impossible to stay away from the topic of motorbikes for a longer period of time. And I know nothing about it. Absolutely nothing, zilch, nada. But while he was going on about the difference between four stroke and two stroke, the crazy spikes we Swedes have to put on our tyres to keep riding in winter and so on, I remembered something from when I was eleven.
My favourite game in 4th grade was Redline Racer, a game that came for free with dad's new computer. Me, dad and my brother spent many afternoons in front of the computer screen trying to win every single race. I can't say it's the most well-made game; the graphics aren't terrific, invisible walls keep appearing and you constantly get thrown off the bike when you ride over bumbs in the road. But I loved that game. I still remember my favourite bike; it was radiant blue, called Night Storm K10, had a top speed of 273 km/h and better handling than any other of the faster bikes. And my brother's favourite was a silver bike that I found absolutely terrible. But on the other hand, he primarly used it to make spectacular jumps off the cliffs off track. So, for that purpose, I guess it wasn't too bad.
In case you're wondering why I just wasted your time writing about a stupid game that isn't even realistic; no idea. Maybe I'm just sad that it takes so much more to please kids nowadays. I recently found the disc to that game again and it's such a strange feeling to open it. How memories seem to be stored in the back of our heads, when you thought they were gone forever. And I suddenly remember every single turn on that infernal snow track that my dad loved. How come I can't remember the most elementary maths problems in school, but the sound track to Redline Racer is still there? All the jokes about "Catch up (ketchup), you're in the last place!".
So far I haven't found many games that I was as good at as Redline Racer. But then on the other hand, I don't know how many other games I spent that much time on either. What I learned from it? Well, nothing about motorbikes at least. I still don't get a word that Isaac says.

Chumbe or That day that we caught sharks in our traps and my room got flooded

We’re halfway through our work here and I’ll be on my way home in two weeks. I know people always say that they can’t believe how fast the time has gone by, but it’s true. I’ll be home before I know it.
Working in Chumbe was one of the most rewarding and exciting experiences a marine biologist could have. The area has been protected for a long time, since it used to be a military area with no access allowed. Now the only fishing going on in the area was ours, and we were amazed by what we found in our traps and by snorkeling the reef. And yes, that fish we're holding is a unicorn fish. The name for obvious reasons.

We were told that there was a chance to catch moray eels in our traps. At first, this just sounded exciting and fun, I’ve never seen a moray before and didn’t think we would actually get any. In total, we got three. I joked about getting sharks in our traps next time. We got two.
It was slightly surreal to pull up our trap and find two dazed nurse sharks and a 1.2 metre giant moray eel (the species is called giant moray, I don’t consider 1.2 as particularly giant) trashing about in the trap. Feelings went from “Wohooo! We’ve got something exciting in our traps! Oh wow – a moray! And sharks!” to “Oh crap, we have a moray in our trap. And two sharks. What now?”
I don’t know how much you guys know about nurse sharks and morays, but I can tell you that the sharks were our least concern in that case. Nurse sharks are completely harmless and the only problem with these two were that they were too fat and scared to easily get out of the opening, while at the same time avoiding the moray. Now the moray is something completely different. Imagine a snake dipped in lubricant, properly pissed off because it’s been stuck in your stupid trap all night, and then taken out of the water where it belongs. Not very pleasant. So to try to get that out of a small opening while it's trying to bite your head off and it's impossible to grab even with gloves because it’s too slippery. Quite an adventure.
Pictures of the nurse sharks aren’t very good. I tried to hold them, but they weren’t very happy and just squirmed around. The morays in the second picture aren’t the giant moray (the tail can be seen of that one in the shark picture), but two other ones that we caught later on. Apparently fishermen that get morays in their traps take them to shore and leave the moray to die on land, because there’s no way that they’re gonna try to get that thing out alive. Which is understandable, and makes us slightly proud that we managed.

The sunshine deceived us into thinking that the rainy season was over, which it clearly isn’t. At 3 a.m I woke up thinking that it was unusually quiet outside. No birds, no cats, no wind, nothing. Half an hour later when I woke up again from rain landing on my face, I fully understood the expression “the calm before the storm”. The wind slammed against my windows, forcing torrents of rain through the mosquito net and onto the floor. I got up and found most of my books and clothes soaked, with more rain continuing to gush in through the window, onto my bed, into my suitcase and creating a smaller lake on the floor. Alert as you are at 3.30 a.m., I didn’t think about closing the shutters to my windows (not that it would’ve made much of a difference anyway) but decided that the best thing was to try to get the water of the floor. So a bucket and towel in hand, I worked for about an hour against the storm. Exciting morning.
When we later got up to go out, the thunderstorm and wind had died down just enough for us to dare to take the one hour trip to Chumbe and rush back again.
Our boat guy felt like the following day (when it still rained quite heavily) would be an excellent opportunity for me to learn how to handle the boat. Since I was in my wetsuit, I didn’t mind. Difficult to steer for shore when you can’t see anything but rain and fog, though. But once again, we managed (with a fair bit of navigation skills from the boat guy, obviously). And when we came back home one afternoon, we found that the trees harboring the spiders had almost fallen onto the house. The landlord quickly decided to chop them all down and the trees took all the spiders with them. Spider Lane is now no more.
Before the rains came, me and Elisa decided that we would love to explore a bit more of Chumbes reef. It’s exceptionally beautiful, with butterflyfish, surgeonfish, triggerfish and rays shooting back and forth in the water. But what made my day were the last few minutes there, when I spotted this hawksbill turtle (we think) getting a clean-up among the corals. It was so calm, so unmoved by my surprise and barely turned its head to look at me when I came closer. Magnificent. That’s all I’ll say.

Pictures: Me, Hamis and Elisa

Chumbe Island - Birgus latro and the old hermit on the island

We've had some down time between our two neap tides, so most days I've just spent reading and exploring Stone Town. Managed to get properly lost for a little while and enjoyed myself immensly trying to get back to more familiar grounds.
But we've also had a day of checking out Chumbe, our next site where we'll start working tomorrow morning. Chumbe is an island about an hour away from Stone Town and it's sort of a combination of a protected area with a resort. I've tried my best to capture the beauty of Chumbe, but I'm afraid I've failed completly. The underwater pictures I'll have to save for another day. I know I'll take a few hundred more during the following days there and I'll just put them all here at once for you guys. For now, you'll have to do with the above-water pictures.
We got to stay in the staff building, which was incredible. Preferred having to walk through part of the jungle to get to it, that way we saw so many more things. Walking there, we constantly heard the clanging and rustling of hermit crabs banging their shells against the many rocks on the island. I have never seen such big ones before, couldn't stop watching them run around with their stolen homes. Other times, paradise flycatchers (a bird, for those of you that care) took flight among the mangroves and just left us with our mouths wide open in awe.
Since we were working and checking out the seagrass beds we couldn't join the tourists on their forest walk, so we took one of our own later in the afternoon. It was absolutely amazing, there are no other words for it. The whole island is made out of dead corals, so it's literally walking on top of a forested coral reef, which is a very strange feeling. There are fossilised corals around every corner, caves that are home to a number of weird animals and vines entangling themselves in their attempts to reach sunlight.
Climbed the lighthouse too. There should be a lighthouse in my story, somewhere. It's on Chumbe.
Some of the friends in and around our hut. Counted to 12 geckos in the bathroom in the morning. Pretty decent sized ones, most of them. Nothing like here in Stone Town. The best surprise was having a green tree snake crawl in through the window next to my bed. Me and Elisa both got overly excited to see it and eventually it got sick of us and left to digest its lunch. Seems to have been one of the geckos.
This monster is probably what Chumbe is most known for. It's a coconut crab and about three quarters the size of my arm. At sunset, these giants crawled out of the caves all over the island and began to walk around, minding their own business. I knew they had them on the island, but didn't expect it to be so easy to spot one. They were literally everywhere and we had to stop several times on the way back to our house to make sure we didn't step on them. Trust me, you don't want to mess with a crab the size of a human baby.
I don't really know what words to use to sum this up. Chumbe was more than I expected and it really is a place worth protecting. My explorer heart just felt ready to burst any minute, there was always something new around every corner. And even the things you normally wouldn't notice just fascinate you there. Like the sound of hermit crabs scuttling out of the way for the coconut crabs. I've seen the Goliath of all crabs and everywhere there was the smell of thousands of forest flowers.
No, I give up. There are no words for it.

Prison Island - Dustbunnies and Nemo's evil twins

So – a fourth of the work is now over and done!
Our first site was Prison Island, or Changuu Island as the locals know it by. It’s an island right outside of Stone Town, where peacocks call their lonely cries and mating tortoises can be heard like modern day dinosaurs. Most of our traps were empty, which was expected, but still slightly disappointing. While Elisa occupied herself exploring transect lines, I spent the time snorkeling and taking pictures of all sorts of interesting animals.
Among all the weird things I saw, this was one of the most fascinating. These are apparently a couple of porcelain crabs living inside an anemone, sharing their home with a tiny clownfish. The clownfish here are nothing like Nemo, trust me. They’re quite fierce, despite their size. Contrary to what you might think, that they hide inside their protective anemone, they swim up to you and sort of grind their teeth at you. You can actually hear their mouths slam shut, with a loud CLOP! One of them decided to attack the camera, so I left them alone after a while. But yeah, Nemo’s scared dad – not so much.

At one point, I got a little bit too excited over seeing a bright yellow butterfly fish, and accidently swam into – yes, swam – one of these sea urchins. Since some of their spines are about the size of my arm, I was quite thankful for the wetsuit. Still hurt, but didn’t leave any mark. Won’t do that again.


This was one of my absolute favourites at Prison Island, a tiny boxfish that managed to get caught in one of our traps. It’s so incredibly cute and really box-shaped (hence the name). 

When we only had a couple of days left, I decided that it was time to live up to my reputation and get my dose of tropical infections. Wohoo! Now I have an ear infection, which is pretty easy to get here when you’re always in the water and it’s hot and humid on land (rainy season). So, now I’m ordered to stay out of the water for the next week. Fortunately, we only had the last few days on Prison Island left and now we have to wait for the next neap tide until we can go to the next site anyway. Spent my time on the boat learning all the fish (samaki) in Kiswahili instead, much to the amusement of our boat guy.

The weather varies so much here, in the morning the sky can be a leaden grey and you hear the omniscient sound of approaching thunder. Which either means you’ll be soaked in a few minutes, or that the sun will come out and shine as if nothing happened. Both are just as likely, which makes planning difficult. Will spend the next week preparing for site #2 and keeping my ears dry. Maybe I’ll be able to hear what people are asking me soon, otherwise communication might become difficult. 

It's a trap! - Madema and spider webs

It really does make me happy that we’ve finally started to work on the project for real, and left most of the permit stuff behind us. I know those parts are important too, but preparations and paperwork has never really been my thing.

The other day we spent shopping for necessary things, such as buckets, ropes and weights and got caught in another torrent of rain. The narrow streets literally turned into rivers and what would’ve been a not too long walk, turned into a three hour trip! Every now and then, the rain would just come cascading down from the sky and we would all run in to the nearest shop and pretend to admire their beautiful clothes. Everyone else was doing the exact same thing though. Excellent opportunity to learn some Swahili. “Leo mvua” which means “Today it’s raining”. (The typical Swede, always talking about weather). I enjoyed wading through the knee-deep water, even though I didn’t really wanted to think about what was in the water and instead tried to be thankful that I didn’t have any open wounds on my legs this time (which I had in PNG).
Unfortunately and understandably, I didn’t bring my camera to the markets, so there are no pictures of school children running through the water and men slowly making their way to the mosque through the rivers that just kept coming.

But as I said, we’ve started working on our project, which included the building of 10 madema traps. (In case you’re wondering what they look like, they’re the ones on the pictures). The trap maker arrived a few hours after sunset and we started working outside (he did most of the job though) by putting together the disassembled traps. It was hot (“It’s Africa, of course it’s hot” – was our assistants comment to this observation), sticky and I have a nice blister as a souvenir from the plastic bands that we used to tie all the wooden parts together. Also learned that a machete is a “panga” and a smaller knife is called “kiso”. It worked out pretty decent; we now have the traps and can start using them as soon as the tide is high enough (in less than a week). 

Oh, and check another trap maker out. While we were building the madema, Elisa (my supervisor) noticed that the trees above out heads were covered in spider webs and spiders the size of… well I don’t really know what to compare them to. Smaller than my hand, but bigger than I would like them to be! Just as I was wondering what would happen if one of them fell down, we spotted one hanging on to our traps. I managed to take a picture of it before our human trap maker threw it out on the street.
“They can be dangerous, these spiders. This one? Oh… I don’t know.”
It’s gonna be fun living on Spider Lane for another seven weeks. 

Zanzibar - spices and sand (and lots and lots of rain)

Yes, I’m still alive. I’ve been really busy this summer (more than I would have liked to be) and I have prioritized being with people rather than writing on my blog (or anything really). Some of you might know, others not, that I’m not in Sweden at the moment, but that I’ve fled to Zanzibar. I’m not here on vacation or on missions, but to study the fish in tropical seagrass beds and collect material for my master thesis. I’m not gonna go into detail (if you’re interested you can just ask me), but I’m looking at reducing bycatch in dema fisheries (a certain type of wooden trap) and comparing marine protected areas with heavily fished areas. So, I’m gonna spend the following two months on the island of Zanzibar, snorkeling and trap-building.

Zanzibar has a reputation for being a paradise island, and I understand why. Even if I’ve never had a desire to go here until now, the island has a tropical magic on its own. The fact that your taxi driver stops by a local fruit stand to get you a mango just because he feels like it, or that a tropical thunderstorm forces everyone under the nearest roof, even if it belongs to someone you don't know, adds to the feeling of being far away from Sweden.
At 5.30 a.m. the minarets wake devoted Muslims and call for the morning prayer, to the background noise of revving trucks unloading their fish at the market next doors. During the night we’re frequently woken up by sudden rain showers, drum-rolling off the tin roofs. I don’t mind the sounds at all, but either way, they add to my lack of sleep. So does the heat and humidity. Like Fanny commented when we stepped off the plane “It’s like walking into a fish tank”.

Most fish tanks are no way near as beautiful as what I’ve seen snorkeling here though. Triggerfish as colourful as a 5-year olds painting, lionfish on guard with its venomous wings spread out around itself and mooray eels writhing like snakes through the seagrass beds. It really is a bit of paradise, but from what I’ve heard, the entrance fee to paradise is already paid, while here your wallet will notice the cost.

This week I'll be spending buiding traps and preparing permits for my field work. It's gonna be pretty awesome and I'll try to write here whenever possible. Have an additional hundred something fish species to learn by heart as well...

Gentlemen, spring is upon us

There are those days when I wonder why I live in Sweden. Like those days when you walk into a building and when you walk out two hours later, everything is covered in deep, heavy, wet snow. And after waiting 40 minutes for the bus, you realise it's probably not gonna show up. And that your hair is probably gonna freeze to icicles. And that you might not get to school tomorrow. And that spring got delayed yet again. There are days like those.

But the annoyance of an unexpected snowfall (not really unexpected, it happens almost every year...) and the inconvenience of canceled bus routes still can't take away the beauty of snow. I haven't really had a proper winter this year. No skiing, iceskating (with one exception on a frozen lake in Mörby) and no snowball fights. My epic plan of learning how to snowboard didn't happen, for obvious reasons.
All my Swedish friends must hate me for writing this, cause at the end of March, snow is probably as unwelcome as smallpox.

It'll be gone soon again though. For now, I'm gonna enjoy shoving snow down my brothers' shirt, listening to the sound of my shoes trudging through the white layers. Maria said it looked like whipped cream and because my imagination might be slightly off, I said it felt more like wading through potato starch. (It really does).
It sucks, not having your expectations fulfilled. An early spring isn't realistic in Scandinavia. So I'll just take this as it is. After all, there's not many other things I find more beautiful than trees covered in snow and seeing the snowflakes sift slowly through the sky under a lamppost.

So, I won't complain. After all, I know why I live in Sweden. Because it's probably the most beautiful place in the world.
(And it helps that my mum came to pick me up and she made the car skid halfway across the road. Just for fun, you know. I think she has secret plans of joining the Swedish rally team.)


Bricks - "His hair was like feathers"

This is a story I started to write on my DTS, but I didn't finish it until very recently.
It's not my own story and it's not someone elses either. It's inspired by drawings from The Book Thief, by listening to Pink Floyd (The Wall) and by talking and listening to people. I've tried to not make the pictures good on purpose. I didn't wanna focus on that. I just wanted to make it as simple as possible.
It's just a story. Take it whichever way you want.

Lightbulbs (I remember the guitar in the back of the classroom)

I believe that you reflect the thing you keep your gaze locked onto. The people who fix their eyes in the school books will live, breathe and eat their subject. They will quite obviously still have a normal life after they shut the books, but depending on where they have their focus, they will reflect it in their life outside of uni. If you keep your eyes on playing guitar, you might become the best guitarist in the world. Or at least your hometown. But your free time, your work and your sleep will be affected by your guitar playing. If you focus on alcohol, it's quite obvious that other things will slowly give way for this.
Whatever you look at, you will reflect. It's true that many spend half of their life hiding what they're doing during the other half of the time. But usually, your friends can tell. A dancer will always have the dance in her movements, even when there's no music. 
So if you keep you're gaze fixed on Jesus, your life will reflect Jesus.
If you keep your gaze fixed on darkness, your life will reflect darkness.
If you keep your gaze fixed on hatred and strife, your life will reflect hatred and strife
If you focus on yourself, your life will reflect nothing but your own ego.
If you look at the light - you will reflect light.
I'm not telling you what to look at or what I think you should reflect. I'm just saying that the reflection will depend on the source of the light. It's as simple as that.

In high school, I learned something fascinating during physics class. Human beings emit light. Atoms and biochemical reactions create light photons every now and then. And as you might remember from school, our body is made out of those atoms and our body keeps functioning only because of biochemical reactions. You're built up out of miniature lamps and it keeps your body functioning. So, even the darkest place won't be dark unless you're there, even if it's just the weakest light.


I just find it fascinating - that's all.

Silhouettes - You make beautiful things out of the dust

In case you fail to notice, this will all be written in English. Why? Because I write better in English than in Swedish? No, it should be quite obvious that that's not the case. It's simply because the very reason for starting this blog ages ago was to communicate with the people I left behind in Sweden when I moved to China. Swedish people. Later on, it was to communicate to the very same people (with a few more added) but now from Australia. And what about now? Now I live in Sweden, and instead I have friends all over the world that keep asking me to update something. Something that they will quite obviously not understand if it's written in my mother tounge (Romanian - no, just kidding, I'm illiterate when it comes to Romanian). My point is; if you're disappointed in the way I changed my writing - tell me. If I make annoying grammar mistakes - tell me. I'll do my best, but it won't feel as natural to write as it does in Swedish. In fact, I might revert back to my own language at some point in time. But not at the moment. And I'll promise to do my very best.

Now I've gathered tons of stories since I came back home from my DTS and I'm not sure in what order to tell them. I'm not sure what pictures to show and I don't know how to go on with telling people about life here, back home in the North. So I thought I might begin with a place were all these things began; church.

Church is not exclusive for a chosen elite group. It is not for people who have a secret calling, a higher rank in society. That would defeat the whole purpose of church. In the same way, church is not a place for like-minded people to gather, with the same behaviour pattern, the same opinions. The church is not for perfect people and it's not for those that place their own individual well-being over others.
Standing in church on a Sunday afternoon, my boots dripping from the melting snow, I catch glimpses of all those faces. I notice that many of us have nothing in common. We don't share the same style of dressing, we don't enjoy the same kind of music and we socialize with very different people.
Now you would probably expect me to say something in the terms of "But the love of Jesus is what brings us together!". And of course, it is. But it can also be very untrue. If church was nothing but a place for Jesus-lovers to meet with other Jesus-lovers, we would never learn anything. If we came merely to perform our duty as Christians, to meet every Sunday morning or afternoon, and then to go off again as if we didn't actually need each other, as if we had no other purpose of meeting than to simply count the numbers, then I can't see much point in church.
What I find so beautiful about church is that none of us is the same. Many of us would never meet in any other context, would probably not even pick up a conversation. But inside these walls with horrible acoustics and the smell of coffee lingering in the air, we gather and we share stories. Everyone is reaching out and everyone is being reached. Even people who never heard of Jesus before.
The worship music plays and we all sing the same songs, but slightly different. It's the same song, but some people go low, some high. Some (like myself) have no clue of how to sing in the key the band plays in, others go all in and wail their lungs out. And then it's like the music dies and I start to see peoples stories written on their backs.
In the far right corner, there's a girl with a whisper of a bruise on her left cheek. There's the old woman, fists clenched and eyebrows frowning. Up front, someone is holding back tears because he knows his wife will be gone by the time he gets back. A young woman pulls back her golden hair, smiling because of the text message she got last night. Someone else is panicking about an assignment he can't possibly finish before tonight; someone else is focusing on breathing in and out, happy that the lungs are still working. And elderly man skips across the floor and can't himself from stealing a few dancesteps from a time when television was still in black and white. Someone is thinking about how the vegan burger they made is gonna taste like and someone else is thinking about how they're gonna make the money in the bank account last long enough to make dinner this week.
I don't know any of these stories for sure, I'm just making guesses. Most of them are wrong. The only story I can be sure about is my own.

Now I'm supposed to make this into some sort of excellent well-thought out conclusion. But I don't have one. The only thing I know is what I saw. I saw people, people vastly different from each other, coming together. Smiling, crying, praying, swearing, laughing, singing, sharing. I saw them facing God and still being a unique part of a grand symphony. I don't know how to describe it in any other way than this. But it was beautiful. As people are.

Flodpirater, krokodilbett och myggvatten


Varje gång jag försöker mig på att berätta för folk vad det är vi har gjort så får jag till svar att jag har levt piratliv den senaste månaden. I princip, ja. Bakvända pirater. Eller vikingar, vad ni än vill kalla det. 
Har känt mig som Jim i Skattkammarplaneten och kommer hela tiden på mig själv med att citera en av mina favorit-Disneyfilmer.

Men vi har inte rest längs med kusten och plundrat byar, snarare tvärtom. YWAMs medical ship – Pacific Link – begav sig in i Western Province, vilket i princip är världens största träskområde. Vi färdades upp längs med Fly River (tyvärr inte nämnd efter att man flyger upp längs med den, utan för alla flugor som konstant är närvarande). Det finns alltför många byar längs med floden för att besöka dem alla, men för er som är geografiskt intresserade kan ni kolla upp Teapopo, Tapila, Kawiapo, Wasua och Domouri på kartan.
Byarna var alla väldigt olika, men ändå fanns det stora likheter mellan dem. Alla husen är höjda över marken för att klara av de månader då floden svämmar över i regnperioden och i princip varenda en innebär att man måste traska genom knädjup lera för att komma in till byn. I varenda by finns magra jakthundar och barn med skrapsår på vaderna. Och i varenda by håller de en i handen jämt och ständigt. Det är en intressant grej med PNG, de är väldigt måna om att hålla en i handen, även män strosar ner längs gatorna hållandes varandra i händerna – eller pekfingrarna. Som ett tecken på vänskap.
Poängen med att resa till alla dessa byar var inte bara att se deras häftiga natur och kultur, även om det är rätt coolt att få hålla i en cassowary-unge, krokodiler och att få springa barfota genom djungeln för att köpa kokosnötter på marknaden. Nej, poängen är att dessa byar har ingen eller väldigt begränsad sjukvård och vårt skepp var fullt av doktorer, sjuksköterskor, tandläkare och optiker. Det fanns verkligen en anledning till glädjerop när vi steg iland.
Jag är ju inte medicinskt lagd åt något håll, så jag flyttades runt mellan tre olika team. Började med att vara crew support; svabbade däck, lagade mat åt besättningen, plockade hårstrån ur duschen… Fick till och med hoppa in i vår zodiac (motorbåt med uppblåsbar gummikant?) och styra en dag. Hjälpte till att få patienter och andra mellan skeppet och byarna. Satt uppe om nätterna och ugglade vid rodret på anchor watch för att se till att vi inte drev för långt. Hade det fantastiskt roligt, skulle vilja lära mig mer så att jag faktiskt kan göra det på riktigt en dag.

Senare blev jag inslängd i optiker-teamet, vilket kändes rätt häftigt eftersom jag själv inte kan se mer än den översta raden (och knappt det) på det där syntestet man gör. Ganska många äldre bybor kom in med cataracts, vilket betyder att de var i princip helt blinda. Kändes hemskt att inte kunna göra något just då, men de kommer få opereras när skeppet återvänder dit nästa månad. Andra jublade när de för första gången kunde se träden på andra sidan fälten, eller sina barnbarns anletsdrag. Jag hade roligt som bara än, pekade på bokstäverna och bad dem visa med fingrarna vad det stod. Många missuppfattningar där på grund av språkbarriärer, hur kul som helst.

Sista veckan spenderade jag i community assessment, vilket innebar att vi pratade med ledarna från byn och gjorde en uppskattning om vad byn behövde hjälp med, hur långt de kommit sen förra gången skeppet var där och vilka som höll i trådarna för tillfället.
Det bästa minnet var ändå när vi tog oss upp till Wasua, som låg uppe i en biflod. Vi var tvungna att gå upp klockan fem för att få tidvattnet rätt och det var ändå på gränsen att vi klarade. Medan vi tog oss in sjönk vattnet mer och mer och förvandlade allt till en enda stor lerpöl. Vid ett tillfälle var jag och ett par till tvungna att hoppa ur och dra kanoten genom lervattnet, zick-zacka mellan fallna trädstammar och undvika att slås ur båten. Hade det fruktansvärt roligt, det kändes verkligen som ett riktigt äventyr. På väg tillbaka fick vi traska genom lera med gömda, decimeterlånga sago-taggar. Äventyret fortsätter.
Det här är ändå bara början, nu är vi inne på den allra sista delen av vår outreach, om två timmar blir vi upphämtade i en PMV-truck för att resa till en by som vi inte än har hittat på kartan. Ooa heter den tydligen- det närmsta jag hittat är Hula. Vi kommer befinna oss i Central Province i tre och en halv vecka, i byar utan elektricitet och rent vatten (hejhej vattenpump/filter), utan sängar (hej myggnät och luftmadrass igen), utan annat än triljoner stjärnor ovanför, mareld i havet och obegripliga språk (som jag ändå alltid envisas med att försöka lära mig).
13 september är jag tillbaka i Australien och först då kan jag försöka uppdatera något, för tillfället får ni hålla till godo med att leta upp YWAM Townsville på facebook, twitter och instagram.
Jag vill skriva ”här börjar äventyret”, men det stämmer inte. Det har pågått hela tiden och bara förändrar karaktär. Nio tjejer från olika delar av världen, tre byar, en guide vid namn Phillip och hela Central Province. PNG- land of the unexpected – here we go.

Apologizes for weird picture sizes, they're all stolen from Kirstens amazing blog - check it out! Can't find my chord to my camera ( or more likely - can't be bothered unpacking my bag since it's probably in the bottom layer).

Foto: Kirsten Bakke, Shelby och Stef F

Stadsdamm och barfotadanser


Det känns rätt surrealistiskt att gå från att släpa en gummimotorbåt genom leran tidigt i gryningen till att titta på Cool Runnings framför en löjligt stor TV-skärm samma kväll.
Antagligen har ni förlorat intresset för den här bloggen evigheter sen, men jag tänkte att jag skulle göra mitt bästa för en uppdatering här i Papua Nya Guinea. Vi har visserligen haft tillgång till internet, men det är inte tiptop hastighet här på skeppet.
Ska ändå försöka sammanfatta en smula vad vi har gjort här i PNG, även om det just nu känns omöjligt att förkorta det. Vi har varit här i två månader, men det känns som om vi just klev av flyget till ett land med en miljon nyanser av grönt.
De första två veckorna splittrades vår klass och min del av teamet hamnade i en kyrka i distriktet 6 Mile i Port Moresby. Vi sov på golvet i kyrkan, som fungerade som en skola under vardagarna. Ungefär här insåg jag vilken fördel jag har som varit ute och rest en hel del innan, samt spenderat mina somrar i tält. Tyckte det var rätt trivsamt att krypa in i min ljusblå myggnätsbubbla och koka gröt på gasspis varje morgon. Staden vaknade till liv, marknaden på andra sidan gatan sjöd av liv och hundskall. Gatorna är rödfläckiga av beetlenut-spott och damm, flak på lastbilarna fulla av leende ansikten och luften full av musik.



Dagarna var plötsligt långsamma och tiden gick á la Island Time – alltså ö-tid, inte Island-tid – vilket kunde innebära att man väntade ett par extra timmar när man skulle mötas. Gjorde mig rastlös till tusen, men jag lärde mig tålamod big time. Varje eftermiddag när vi kom tillbaka till kyrkan efter att ha gjort diverse skolprogram ute i staden så väntade marknadens alla gatubarn på oss. Det är svårt att få ett bättre välkomnande än dussintals leende barn som ropar ens namn och drar en med in i barfota rugbymatcher, klapplekar och flätor i ens hår.
Allra bästa minnet var att gå till marknaden på andra sidan gatan och städa upp hela området. Gatubarnen hjälpte till, utan att vi ens bad dem, redan innan de visste att vi skulle komma dit. Med trasiga plasthandskar och leenden över hela ansiktet bar de skräp, nötskal och saker man helst inte ville veta vad de var i skottkärror och sopsäckar. Har aldrig känt mig så säker som när de drog mig genom marknadsstånden och tjattrade i pidgin, bad mig undvika ”farligheter” och high-fivade mig efter varje avklarad sopsäck. När den varmaste tiden på dagen redan passerat var vi lika mörkhyade som dem, täckta av aska och damm. Had a blast – som alla säger.
Vi lämnade 6 Mile bakom oss flera veckor sen och kom ombord på Pacific Link, YWAMs Medical Ship. Tänker berätta mer om det sen, men kan bara säga att det är ett fantastiskt äventyr att ta sig upp till byar mitt ute i ett träsk, ha knädjup lera överallt omkring sig och hundratals bybor som dansar en välkommen om morgnarna. Vi är inne i Western Province av PNG just nu och det är i princip ett stort träsk, hela provinsen. Men jag älskar skeppet och trivs alldeles för bra.

Dags att se hur Cool Runnings slutar – en ny uppdatering kommer en annan dag innan vi lämnar skeppet. Over and out.

Foto: Kristi och Kirsten


Youth Street - The dynamic factor

Internet här på basen är gratis och fungerar generellt inte så bra. Anledning? IT-mannen är på basens medical ship i Papua Nya Guinea och under tiden har ingen nyckel in till rummet där servern finns. Därav – dålig på att uppdatera vad som händer här. Dessutom händer det saker hela tiden, så det är svårt att försöka sammanfatta allting i några få meningar. Blir bättre på det!

Ska försöka berätta lite om våra helger. Veckodagarna är fyllda med lektioner, läxor och jobb i köket (och teamtime). Men lördag är allting annorlunda. Lördag betyder Youth Street, gröna t-shirts och kaos i hela huvudet.

Youth Street är en plats där ungdomar i Townsville får komma och bara vara. Det är en plats där de får utveckla sina talanger och fly från allt skit hemma, för många ungdomar lever i familjer som ställer för höga krav på dem eller behandlar dem dåligt. Eller för helt ”normala” kids som bara vill hänga någonstans. Varje lördag klockan två börjar det dyka upp tonåringar som senare delar upp sig i olika intressegrupper; skateboard, art, musik, chic team, sport eller dans. Finns fler och nu blev det lite lagom svengelskt, men då får det vara så. Det är olika saker som händer varje vecka och jag är inte med på den första halvan utan är ledig (= göra läxor). Men jag har sett musik-teamet öva inför att spela ikväll, skatekidsen åka in till rampen inne i stan medan art-teamet målar på canvas och tröjor. Hur som helst, det är högljutt och massa tonåringar och de har roligt.
Ungefär vid femtiden på eftermiddagen kommer alla tillbaka från sina aktiviteter utspridda på diverse ställen och samlas i den stora ”auditorium”-salen för att äta middag (oftast tacos, chili con carne eller något annat som är rätt simpelt att laga i stora proportioner). Det är då jag börjar arbeta, på den delen av Youth Street som kallas Live. Då är det mer spontant, folk kan spela twister, fotboll, åka skateboard eller beställa excellenta chokladmilkshakes från caféet. Det är nämligen där jag hänger. Varje lördagkväll, till halv elva på kvällen, står jag och ett par andra inne i caféet och tar upp beställningar från kidsen (som by the way kallas crew), gör nachos, frappes och brownies med mängder av glass. Det är varmt, svettigt, hetsigt, förvirrande (har problem med huvudräkning när det kommer till dollar, vet inte varför) och oftast rätt ensamt. Men ändå älskar jag det. Många i min klass är väldigt trötta efter en lång vecka med lektioner och ser inte jättemycket fram emot lördagarna, men det gör jag. Jag vet att jag kommer bli trött, jag vet att jag kommer göra fel minst tio gånger och att jag inte hinner prata med så många av ungdomarna som jag skulle vilja. MEN. Att bara kunna le mot dem varje kväll, att se varje tonåring som en egen individ och inte bli frustrerad när de är högljudda och otåliga; det inser jag ger lika mycket som att sitta med dem och spela gitarr. Folk kommer upp till en i caféet när man är ensam och pratar – vissa får bara höra att de har en snygg t-shirt. Men någonstans vet jag att till och med det lilla jag gör ger dem något vikigt. Sen älskar jag att jobba i caféet, tycker det är superkul att göra drinkar och värma upp pizza. Dessutom får jag behålla allt som failar/leftovers. Det brukar resultera i en caramelstrawberrychocolate-milkshake. Kunde varit värre.
Varje vecka är det en ny dynamic factor (alltså typ klädkod) och denna veckas tema är 80-talet. Förra veckan var det crazy hairstyles = jag fick supertuperat hår och en underlig fläta i det. Vi får se vad som händer ikväll. Jag har åtta minuter på mig att vara redo för 80-tal och milkshakes. Woop woop!


Bilder: Youth Street

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