Most of this post will be about the Superdome.

It had stopped raining in Baton Rouge. The GPS unit in the Versa had a 'home' setting. It lit up with directions to Louis Armstrong international airport.

The drive was as good as the previous day was difficult. From Baton Rouge to New Orleans is mostly swamp, with the highway raised up out of the water. The artificial land which periodically flanks the road does nothing to detract from how wild the environment still is. It went on like this until we crossed the edge of Lake Pontchartrain and the highway lifted us up over the water.

Above Lake Pontchartrain

A taxi took us the rest of the way through Jefferson and Metairie to the French Quarter. Our room was not ready (nor had we expected it would be) so we left our bags with the desk at the inn and went to see what we could see. A few turns and we stumbled on a patisserie which became one of our favourite stops. Soon after we arrived there was a line out the door.

Some of the locals recommended we invest in some Saints colours before we made for the Superdome. Se would not want to be confused for 'poison,' the name for supporters of visiting teams. It seemed like good advice; already the dominant colours on the streets of the French Quarter were black and gold.

Suitably attired we made for the Superdome and Champions Square; in Lafayette we had been told to makce certain we checked out the square before the game.

Pregame entertainment at Champions Square

In a way were lucky; the Carolina Panthers had sealed up the NFC east division with a win the day before. The Saints were playing for a wild-card spot. Win and they go to the playoffs, lose and their season was done. Had it been any other way, the atmosphere around the game would have been quite different.

In our Saints gear. Who dat?

The Superdome was a surprise. We had not done our research and did not know that the stadium was fully enclosed and air-conditioned. While there were huge crowds outside not many people entered the stadium to watch the pre-game warm ups and it felt a little like we had the place to ourselves. The roof was well above us despite having nose-bleed seats, because we were sitting under one of the enormous screens.

The stadium food was a little different to what we get at home. In place of meat pies they had crawfish pies (Ali had one) and instead of hotdogs, alligator sausage po boys (of course I had one).

The New Orleans Saints, seen here kind of lying around.

The game started and there were still empty seats all around us. It wasn't until five or ten minutes into the first half that the stadium really filled up.

And then it got loud.

98% of these people are Saints fans and 100% of them are screaming

A display before the game began listed the top five loudest stadiums in the world - with the Superdome having recently displaced CenturyLink Field, home of the Seattle Seahawks. During Tampa Bay plays, the crowd were encouraged to 'Get Loud' by the displays around the park. And they responded, screaming and banging on anything they could reach. When the subsequent play failed, the crowd were congratulated for having created a 'fan impact play.'

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

It was all a bit strange after coming from a country where the sportsmanship of crowds is being questioned and reviewed at the moment. In the defence of the NOLA group, nobody was shouting obscenities. They were just shouting.

There was no organised group of away supporters. Unless you looked hard, you would not think there were away supporters at all. The whole crowd seemed to be decked in black and gold. When Tampa Bay made a big play the stadium was silent.

This photograph mostly for the benefit of my brother

The first half was a tight contest but the Saints ran away with it in the third quarter. The stadium emptied out fast in the fourth quarter; also interesting from an Australian point of view. We usually only leave stadiums when our team is getting flogged.

The New Orleans crowd might have had the right of it, though. With the result clear the heart went out of Tampa Bay, while the Saints pulled all their star players from the game to protect them for the playoffs. The game ground to a halt and the last seven minutes dragged on for close to forty (and nothing happened).

I made Ali stay for the whole thing because I am terrible.

We walked back to the French Quarter to see what madness was unfolding.

Bourbon St madness

The crowds from the stadium had found their way down and joined the crowds from the bars. We pushed through until we found a nice spot on Royal and had very nice beers and po boys for dinner. In fact the beers were so good, we stayed for another.

We reached our beds a little later than anticipated. As is the way in New Orleans.

The rains of Waikiki

When we booked Honolulu as our first stop, we didn't plan for rain. Rain is what we got, though.

Rain and a view.

We spent the morning of the first day darting between doorways and through malls, trying to find a dry path from the hotel to the beach.

I could never remember the way to the beach, even though it was right there.

We came up with a plan to manage the time change - stay awake until midday, sleep for a little while, and head out for dinner. By morning we would be on Hawaiian time.

Alison was excited - her dream of all filtered coffee, all the time, was coming true

The plan was a good one. The time difference from Brisbane to Honolulu, and the eight hour flight, combined to make the change pretty easy on us. It took a little while for our body-clocks to catch up, and we had dinner quite early.

Dinner was at Cheeseburger in Paradise because of course it was.

James was excited - his dream of all cheeseburgers, all the time, was coming true.

After dinner it had fined up enough to finally walk along the beach. Waikiki beach is dominated by hotels and shopping malls, but a short stretch of beach between Diamondhead Crater (the subject of the next post!) and the high-density buildings provides beach access for the regular punter.

Far; crater. Near; punters.

We took the opportunity to explore the maze of stores and hotels and eventually found ourselves at what appeared to be the pool of the Sheraton hotel, which nobody attempted to stop us entering and which did not even have a fence (in Australia you would be fined so much). Perched in illicit deckchairs, we got some photos of a stunning sunset.

Pictured; stunning.

With no attempt made to eject us from the premises, we resolved to return the following evening for a sunset cocktail. But our first day in Hawaii was done, and we retreated to our own hotel.

Something to prove

A little explanation at the start of this post; I had no intention of going to Uppsala when I planned this trip. In fact, I wasn't going to visit Sweden at all, but a number of people recommended I visit Stockholm (to see the Vasa!) while I was in the area and I could see the wisdom in that. Then my supervisor suggested that, if I had time, I make the trip out to have a look at Uppsala.

"It used to be the capital," he said. "It's relevant to you, and I think you'll like it."

He was right, of course. This always happens to me. I went to the USA expecting to be an east-coast person and fell madly in love with the west. Now it looks like Sweden is doing everything it can to win me over before Norway gets a look-in.

Uppsala suffers from Picturesque European Town disorder

Today Sweden put on a show like it wanted to marry my daughter. Uppsala is about 40 minutes from Stockholm by train. A quick walk to the river and I found the tourist bureau. I had no idea what I could see or do in Uppsala, just the vague knowledge that it was pretty and had something to do with vikings.

I was right on both counts.

The lady at the bureau recommended getting the bus out to Gamla Uppsala (old Uppsala) about seven kilometers from the city center. But first, there were some items near the cathedral she thought might interest me.

Holmfast had the stone erected in memory of his father and brother

 Mother.

Bjorn had the stone erected in memory of __ soul

 Flippin.

Gilliog had the stone erected in memory of her daughter Gilliog

Runestones.

The park by the cathedral had eight runestones on display. These are the first runestones I have ever seen. I was blown away.

Then it was lunch time. The tourist bureau had recommended a bunch of Swedish restaurants, but they all had fish-only menus and cost a lot of money. So I found a cute cafe.

Lunch round one

That sandwich was incredible. Fresh salad, cheese, sundried tomatoes, pesto. I was too hot for a coffee, but after watching the river for a while I thought a coffee would be just the thing. Also I had made the mistake of seeing the cake cabinet.

Lunch round two

German coffee and Austrian coffee had been so awful I have become wary of European coffee in general. In Austria in especially this was confusing; they were so proud of their coffee. I asked the girl at the cafe why Swedish coffee was so good.

"We're not proud," she said. "We just love our coffee."

The view at lunch time.

I got on the wrong bus. Well, the right bus, but going the wrong way. I got to tour the Uppsala number 2 route. But eventually I made it out to Gamla Uppsala.

Are those... are those barrows?

Gamla Uppsala was the bronze-age and Viking age capital of Uppland. The area is now full of excavation sites. There are going to be 30 archaeologists working there this year and 20 next year, preparing for the new train tunnel that's going in. There used to be somewhere between 200 and 2,000 burial sites in the area, along with halls and homes and such. Supposedly a pagan temple (though no evidence has been found). Most of it has been ploughed over as farmland and the landscape has changed considerably.

There's a museum. It's full of stuff excavated from the three primary burial sites and a handful of boat burials from nearby.

Swords and spears and helmets and jewelry and just so much stuff

An archaeologist gave us a tour of the exhibits and some history of the area. There were, he explained, two sources who provided information about whose remains were in the three main burial sites, and neither of them were reliable. One was a German priest, whose account was hearsay and was mostly propaganda aimed at making the Swedish pagans seem like savages.

The other was Snorri Sturluson.

In Snorri's version, one king was sacrificed to end a terrible famine. One fell off his horse and died. The third was gored by a sacrificial bull. But these accounts don't match up with the remains found.

Ten year old boys on bearskins and such

There was a reason for this too.

"In Snorri's stories about the Norwegian kings, they alway have heroic deaths. But the Swedish kings, the deaths are silly. This is why we say, when we don't believe somebody, that they are telling Norwegian Stories."

That was not my favourite thing.

"Also, Snorri is slang, in Sweden, for wiener. So that is funny. It makes all the school children laugh when they hear it."

The view from the middle site

They also had a kids section

The on-site archaeologist got me the metal sword from behind the counter

I would have looked more fierce if I could have wiped the shit-eating grin off my face.