“What do you want to go there for???” was the overwhelming puzzled question from the Husband’s Danish and Swedish guests when he advised them we were taking a trip to Scandinavia in the middle of the Northern winter.

For those of us who live in the Far Northern tropics, eventually the heat and humidity does your head in, usually followed by a bout of the colloquially termed “Mango Madness.” There are only so many showers one can take per day before you begin to bemoan the incessant sweat and stinky feet (Husband’s speciality).

My bucket list is getting shorter as I age ever so gracefully and I am managing to tick off two adventures on this wintery expedition – The Northern Aurora Borealis (who, according to my app, is not playing the light fantastic game at the moment) and The Hermitage Museum in St Petersburg. One of the only subjects in Year 12 I truly enjoyed (and didn’t play the truant) – Russian History – I am beyond excited to see all the architecture and learn about the incredible history of a place I have only read about in books. Thank God the Russians are letting us come – the visa process is like nothing else and even my fabulously, beyond fabulous travel agent Mr S was stressing until they arrived a mere 10 days out from our Australian departure!

Departure day and once checked in I had the amusement of watching the Husband giggle maniacally in the Qantas Club as he was reading penis jokes to me off Bookface – doesn’t take much to amuse the love of my life – only my bestie Miss N will understand as her husband is just as juvenile and I am fairly confident Miss T’s partner Mr W will be just as highly amused – seriously, he is still giggling over there whilst trying to consume his freebie red wine.

It’s a mean feat longhaul travel from Australia – and particularly Port Douglas as one must fly from Cairns to a major city before jumping the country. Thirty hours transit time total, but valium and sleep right can’t keep a good traveller down!

Other than getting completely ripped off in Doha airport with a staggering $20 payment extravaganza for two coffees, the whole thirty hour process was relatively painless – particularly considering I slept nine hours of the fourteen hour flight from Melbourne to Doha.

The husband and I do reasonably well navigating public transport in foreign countries so we arrived at our hostel in no time. No culture shock, just temperature shock – bloody freezing – but given one of my tourism buddies Miss M had very graciously loaned me a stack of thermals and fleeces and the MIL some gloves and scarves, I was a little pudding of squishy warmth. I had purchased a winter coat complete with fluffy hood (which I picked up for half price on a business trip when they were on sale) and matching boots (total saving of 60% as I stalked them on line waiting patiently for them to go on sale) so I figured I would be OK.

As travellers in our naughty fourties, some would say hostels are not for us, but at AUD$90 per night for a private room, next to the train station and a mere twenty minute walk to the centre of Copenhagen complete with double bed and a bath (Miss T I thought of you!) it’s perfect, and a melting pot of international, multi age demographic soup, full of excited travellers enjoying lemon cake and chocolate for breakfast on top of your standard toast, fruit and cereal fare. Help yourself breakfast for AUD$16 was a winner – even though I had to have my first eat shit moment as I was convinced I had booked the bed and breakfast rate and had to apologise like the idiot, egotistical tourist I was behaving like when it turns out, in fact, I didn’t. Twit. But this is travel and snivelling tourists are aplenty, so I had to put my big girl pants on and apologise – and those who know me – know I don’t like being wrong!

Room with a view!