Travelogue: Through Borders and Bonds

Encourage your youth to travel. Let them collect stories, not just things. Let them return not with bags, but with broader minds, deeper empathy, and richer hearts.

By Abdullah Usman Morai | Sweden

There is something uniquely poetic about long road journeys. They allow thoughts to stretch as landscapes unfold, giving travelers time to observe not just the world outside the window but also the conversations within their hearts. On the morning of May 13, 2025, I found myself at the beginning of such a journey—boarding a FlixBus from Stockholm, Sweden to Oslo, Norway, accompanied by my friend Riaz Hussain Kangoo.

The weather was delightfully pleasant—cool enough to refresh, warm enough to comfort. Our purpose was as much emotional as it was geographical: to reunite with our dear friends Abdul Ghaffar Soomro, Noor Ul Amin Samoo, and Sher Muhammad Nonari, who had been traveling across Europe—Italy, Switzerland, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Denmark, Malmö Sweden, and now, for the final leg, Norway. Initially, we had planned to meet somewhere in Central Europe, but our schedules didn’t align. So, Oslo it was—their last stop before returning to Karachi, Sindh.

When the bus did not appear at the scheduled time, a ripple of anxiety passed through us, but it arrived with a 15-minute delay, typical for long-distance travel. Once on board, we were quickly immersed in the quiet buzz of fellow travelers. People from different parts of the world occupied the seats. Directly behind us sat a young Indian couple caught in a low-voiced yet unmistakably passionate debate—so characteristically South Asian that it made us smile knowingly.

The bus driver, a composed woman in her forties, began the drive, which would take more than seven hours. But patience is a companion on such journeys. The changing Swedish scenery outside was breathtaking—lakes reflecting skies like liquid mirrors, tall pine trees whispering old stories, yellow mustard fields glowing like gold against deep green, and traditional red wooden houses dotting the countryside like delicate brushstrokes.

Our route included short stops at several cities: Västerås, Örebro, Karlskoga, and Karlstad. At Karlstad, the driver switched—another friendly soul taking us closer to our destination. One constant through the trip was Riaz’s company—his laughter, thoughts, and insightful perspectives made the hours glide past.

At the Swedish-Norwegian border, there was no ceremonial passport check, just a subtle drop in the bus speed to around 30 kilometers per hour. It was a symbolic moment—crossing from one Scandinavian nation to another seamlessly, a testament to the invisible bridges of trust and policy in this part of the world.

By evening, we rolled into Oslo Bus Terminal. The city greeted us with the same granary structures and architectural rhythm as Stockholm—perhaps only the flags had changed. There, at the terminal, our friends greeted us warmly. Hugs, smiles, and laughter poured forth. Ada Abdul Ghaffar, Ada Noor Ul Amin, and Mr. Abdul Qayoom—a respected Pakistani from Badin, Sindh, living in Oslo—were waiting for us.

We headed to the centrally located Anker Hotel, our temporary home in Oslo. After a swift check-in and a refreshing shower, we were off again—this time to Mr. Abdul Qayoom’s residence in Asker, a green and peaceful suburb outside the city.

The evening at Asker was rich with storytelling. The topics circled around their experiences through Europe—the places that mesmerized them, the exhaustion of non-stop travels, and the longing to return to places that had touched their hearts. It was evident they had seen much but perhaps wished they had seen less, with more depth. It’s the paradox of travel—you want to see everything, but often, the best parts are felt when you slow down.

Dinner was a highlight. Mr. Abdul Qayoom prepared traditional Norwegian-style salmon, and it was absolutely delectable. Conversations continued over the meal and spilled into a delightful round of karak doodh pati—the signature ending to every memorable desi evening. Before leaving, we were offered a ride to the train station in Asker. Onboard the train back to Oslo, we chatted with the conductor—a Kashmiri man—which added yet another layer of familiarity to our journey.

Oslo still basked in daylight when we arrived back. We walked towards Jernbanetorget—the central public square outside Oslo Central Station. The correct spelling, often confused, is “Jernbanetorget,” which literally translates to “The Railway Square.” It’s a bustling area, alive with the rhythm of the city. There, we posed with the iconic lion statue—a favorite photo spot for tourists and locals alike.

Nearby, a beautiful fountain cascaded gently into its basin. The water sparkled under the golden twilight, surrounded by artistic stonework and benches where travelers took a breath from their urban explorations. We paused there too, capturing moments and moods with our cameras and hearts.

Our final walk for the night was toward the Oslo Opera House. It was like walking into a scene from a movie—sunset coloring the sky in brushstrokes of orange, pink, and indigo. The Opera House, with its sharp, modern architecture rising from the water, was a marvel. People lounged on its sloped surfaces; boats bobbed in the nearby harbor; tourists photographed, lovers embraced, and children ran freely. We joined in, enjoying the serenity and cracking Sindhi jokes that echoed with laughter under the wide northern sky.

Later, back at Anker Hotel, the night stretched a little longer. The hotel had a generous tea and coffee setup for guests, and we made the most of it—occupying a cozy corner where our conversations could flow. We revisited the past, imagined the future, and laughed over shared memories.

Our conversation soon turned to our beloved northern areas of Pakistan. Ada Noor and Bha Abdul Ghaffar shared detailed anecdotes from their travels—snow-capped peaks, friendly locals, and the feeling of belonging to nature. Noor also spoke fondly of his adventures in Singapore, Thailand, and Malaysia, revealing how each culture had taught him something unique.

Eventually, we decided to sleep and meet again for breakfast. The morning of May 14 began with the same joy. This time, it was Ada Sher Muhammad Nonari’s turn to share his stories, particularly his work-related experiences in Islamabad. His words painted the capital city with hues of challenge, opportunity, and insight.

The breakfast area filled quickly. We met a young man from Thailand working at the hotel. When he heard me speak Swedish, he smiled and asked if I lived in Sweden. I said yes. He said, “I could tell by the way you speak Swedish.” That unexpected recognition felt like a small badge of cultural adaptation. He told us he had also lived in Stockholm but moved to Oslo due to the housing crisis. He missed Stockholm but was making the most of his life in Norway. Ada Noor Ul Amin exchanged a few lines in Thai with him, which warmed the interaction even more.

As we finished breakfast, Mr. Abdul Qayoom arrived to help our friends with their airport drop-off. It was time to say goodbye. We hugged, smiled, and promised to meet again—somewhere, someday.

Riaz and I checked out a little later and roamed the town one last time. We returned to Jernbanetorget for more photos with the lion—this time in daylight. Then we strolled along Karl Johans gate, the main pedestrian shopping street in Oslo. It stretches from the central station to the Royal Palace and is filled with charming cafes, shops, and performers. We absorbed the street’s rhythm, browsed souvenirs, and reflected on the simplicity and sophistication of Norwegian urban life.

Finally, it was time to board our FlixBus back to Stockholm. This time, it was on schedule. As the bus rolled out of Oslo, we sat quietly, no longer strangers to the road or each other’s thoughts.

Returning home, we all carried more than photos or keepsakes. We carried on conversations, reflections, and a refreshed understanding of life. Travel is never just about going somewhere—it’s about becoming someone. It teaches you what textbooks cannot: how to value silence, how to question systems, how to spot the beauty in small things.

We compared cultures, questioned governance, wondered what made some nations happy, and how systems could work better back home. These aren’t just observations—they’re seeds of change, watered by the miles we traverse.

To those reading: encourage your youth to travel. Let them collect stories, not just things. Let them return not with bags, but with broader minds, deeper empathy, and richer hearts.

Read: A Rain-Kissed Day in Öregrund

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Abdullah Soomro, penname Abdullah Usman Morai, hailing from Moro town of Sindh, province of Pakistan, is based in Stockholm Sweden. Currently he is working as Groundwater Engineer in Stockholm Sweden. He did BE (Agriculture) from Sindh Agriculture University Tando Jam and MSc water systems technology from KTH Stockholm Sweden as well as MSc Management from Stockholm University. Beside this he also did masters in journalism and economics from Shah Abdul Latif University Khairpur Mirs, Sindh. He is author of a travelogue book named ‘Musafatoon’. His second book is in process. He writes articles from time to time. A frequent traveler, he also does podcast on YouTube with channel name: VASJE Podcast.