Hiking through to Scandinavia In 1966 we decided to spoil ourselves with a hiking trip to Norway. Real back-packers: a huge, ugly Bulgarian rucksack my father sent me for excursions. And off we went.
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We were so keen on travel that we spent the last penny saved whenever an opportunity would rise. Or when we would create it, which was more often. Then we went enthusiastic with hiking and just before I was summoned for 11 months of obligatory army service, we agreed to hike around Europe and keep the memories of the travel for the lonely days ahead. We left Igor, then three, with my mother, fifty, who eagerly volunteered to baby-sit him for a month. The unused till then ugly rucksack my father sent me as an expensive present from Bulgaria was filled with chocolates, black pepper-corn, red paprika and cocoa. According friends and relatives those items were to bring us enough money through the Eastern Block desert. Fables. Cash was wanted.