Between the rhythms of wipers, the downpour, and Sindhi kalam, time melted away. After nearly 250 kilometers, we reached Karlskoga, where we stopped at a petrol station for a short break.

By Abdullah Usman Morai | Sweden

The Journey Begins from Stockholm

It was barely a week since I had returned from New York in August 2023 when my dear friends from Stockholm, Vickey Kamlesh Wadhwani and Sunil Kumar Lohano, planned a road trip to Norway. This plan had already been under discussion even before my U.S. visit; all that was left was to finalize it.

Our dear friend Jan Muhammad Mangrio had also arrived from Cardiff, Wales, after roaming around Germany and elsewhere, and had joined us in Stockholm. Another dear friend, Riaz Hussain Kango, wished to come along too, but unfortunately, he couldn’t get free space at his office.

Meanwhile, Scandinavian skies were weeping heavily; it had been raining non-stop, particularly towards Norway. But when friends set a plan, who dares to cancel? So, with complete faith in our destiny, we four Sindhi travelers set off from Stockholm in Sunil’s Škoda car, leaving behind the pouring rain.

That car was like a mini Sindh on wheels: Nabisar, Dhoronaro, Umerkot, and Moro, echoes of our homeland traveling across European highways. On the E18 route leading to Oslo, our small Sindh was rolling cheerfully forward. Our destination for the day was Oslo first, and from there onward to Hønefoss, about 600 kilometers away.

Rain, Music, and the Sindhi Spirit

The rain was relentless. The car’s wipers swung at full speed, pushing away sheets of water so that our road remained visible. Sunil was behind the wheel. Though we knew Norway was costlier than Sweden, we had wisely packed enough food and supplies. The car’s trunk was full, and some snacks were kept inside within reach.

The atmosphere inside the car was nothing less than a cultural gathering:

• Sindhi poetry and music filled our ears.
• Abida Parveen’s soulful voice singing “Shal ghoot thien, aṇr-mooṭ thien, Ammar ihaa aas Jeejal iha aas…” made us lose ourselves.
• Jalal Chandio’s kalam, “Uthandee wehandee ḥusan waran jo deedar karan ta sawab aa,” sparked laughter and reflections.
• Shaman Mirali’s melancholic tune, “Heaa Haseen zindagi aen guzarī wei khwab ho ya hawa ka khabar ee na payee…” reminded us how fleeting life is.

Between the rhythms of wipers, the downpour, and Sindhi kalam, time melted away. After nearly 250 kilometers, we reached Karlskoga, where we stopped at a petrol station for a short break. Out came Sunil’s homemade desi tea, accompanied by biscuits and cake. We had two full rounds of tea, took pictures, laughed heartily, and re-energized ourselves before continuing.

Now Moro’s Soomro took over the steering. Ahead, we still had about 350 kilometers left until our first destination.

Calls, Conversations, and Costly Norway

Passing near Karlstad, we remembered our friend Jibran Baladi, who had studied there. Just as we were talking about him, his call arrived! When we told him we were remembering him, he burst into laughter. He had phoned to check on our journey and gave us further advice: “Take your supplies along, Norway is very expensive.” We had already done so, but his concern doubled our joy.

The clouds thickened, darkness fell earlier than expected, and rain made the road heavier. We were determined to eat dinner before crossing the Norway border, but as we searched, either the roads veered away from towns, or restaurants had closed, or were about to.

Finally, without food, we reached the Sweden–Norway border. The road curved, speed reduced to 30 km/h, and slowly we arrived at the checkpoint. A border officer came out and asked in Swedish-Norwegian mix:

“Semester? Are you going on vacation?”

We nodded in affirmation.

“Okay, carry on,” he said.

No passports were checked, no further questions asked. Just like that, we had left Sweden and entered Norway.

A McDonald’s Dinner in Norway

By then, dinner time had long passed. Hungry and tired, we agreed to accept the first available option. Soon we found a McDonald’s, buzzing with young boys and girls. The place was lively, noisy, and expensive, but hunger speaks louder than money. After filling our stomachs, our energy returned.

Now the next break was only at Hønefoss, where we had booked our first-night stay. Traveling with Vickey always feels easier because he takes care of accommodation booking Airbnb cottages or houses in advance.

Arrival at Hønefoss: A Summer House by the Lake

After driving through a mix of highways and smaller countryside roads, we finally reached our destination around 1:00 AM. It was in the Steinsfjorden lake area, where a beautiful summer house cottage awaited us. The moment we arrived, everyone was stunned.

The rain had almost stopped, though the grass and earth were still wet. We parked, unloaded our luggage, and explored our temporary home.

The cottage was a wooden cabin, cozy and rustic:

• The living room had sofas, chairs, and a dining table.
• A fireplace stood at the corner, with a wooden staircase leading to the loft above, where 5–7 people could sleep comfortably on mattresses.
• Behind the living area was a small kitchen, and beyond it, a bedroom with two single beds.

Everything was perfect except the water supply, which wasn’t fully set up, as these summer houses are only meant for seasonal stays.

But after a long journey, all we cared about was rest. And so, our first night in Norway ended by the quiet lakeside, in a wooden cabin, far away from Sindh, yet carrying Sindh within us.

A Night in the Summer Cottage

First Impressions: A Shock Without Water

The owners of the cottage had left a 10-liter water container for us. But soon we discovered the real challenge: the toilet was not the usual modern type. There was no flush system, and it was located 50–60 meters outside the house. On top of that, there was no shower or proper bathing facility inside. Naturally, we were all startled at first and felt that perhaps booking this house had been a mistake.

Vickey rechecked the other Airbnb bookings he had made. To our surprise, another one also had the same issue. Without wasting time, he canceled it and reserved a new house with better facilities.

Outside, the beauty of the surrounding landscape was hidden by the darkness of night. We had to wait until morning to see it. So instead, we settled for cups of tea and long conversations.

Tea, Stories, and Laughter

We sat chatting for over an hour. Jan Mangrio, a passionate traveler, began narrating stories of his journeys to Australia, New Zealand, Europe, and the United States. Some of his adventures made us laugh until our stomachs hurt.

In turn, Vickey, Sunil, and I shared memories from our joint travels. That small wooden cottage echoed with laughter, turning the night into something memorable despite the inconveniences.

Sleeping Arrangements and a Strange Feeling

Since we had another long day of travel ahead, we began preparing to sleep:

• Vickey decided to sleep on the sofa in the living room.
• Sunil climbed to the loft above.
• Jan and I got ready to sleep in the bedroom with two single beds.

But suddenly Sunil came halfway down the wooden stairs, looking uneasy. He said:

“Yaar, I don’t know why, but I feel strange up there. What if there are spirits? I don’t want to sleep alone.”

We all laughed, but I eventually went upstairs, recited Ayat al-Kursi, and slept peacefully in the loft.

The Morning After

News of Floods

The next morning, as we checked news and weather updates, we realized the rains were not ordinary. Heavy flooding had already struck many areas nearby.

At that moment, I remembered our relative Ijaz Ahmed alias Jan Muhammad Soomro, who used to joke with us back in Sindh whenever we planned trips to the northern areas of Pakistan during the monsoon. He would always say:

“Where are you going? There are landslides everywhere; the roads are closed!”

He would then laugh mischievously, both teasing and warning us.

But here in Norway, our surprise was not about floods, it was still about the unusual toilet system of that summer house!