Still Alive......Dreaming of Daylight

Above: One of many stunning places in Norway

It's eating me up now, chewing slowly prolonging the fever and making me paranoid just thinking of the symptons. Its like you're not invited or welcomed out into the day, every journey is up hill, grit your teeth and try and focus on the destination only. Deprived of light the body simply doesn't function as it should, jet-lagged without the flight, unfocused without the distraction, and tired without the insomnia. It is an effort when you feel broken, but even a stopped clock tells the right time twice a day, and there's no other way but to get on with it, which is what we all do, then look back and laugh.....hopefully.

I am the man who remembers things, who likes to reminisce and talk about the fine details of events that are long gone, the details that made them special, amusing and memorable. I enjoy the look of wonder and thought on a friends face when these memories are pulled out of the ether and bought back to the forefront of another mind just for a small moment, that's magical. Now in my world of darkness, a world that is still kind of beautiful in an exposed, remote way, I am thinking of times when the air was crystal clear and the days were long and bright. The fjords in Norway was one of those times, a fairytale land that left you open mouthed round every corner, the dramatic landscape both sharp and smooth, shooting out of the ocean and inland lakes. Try and pick a favourite spot or view and you'll spend a lifetime there.

Up North......................

Len captures some northern magic

Accelerating towards total darkness, like I'm looking back from a train once its entered the tunnel. The darkness can get to you if you let it, what gets me the most though is the rain, seemingly endless drizzle that could wash away your mind. Combining the endless night with the rain can break a person, it takes away your energy; it starts to make decisions for you: Me: “shall I go out tonight, round my mates pad, or to the pub in town?” Late November: “Nah, you don’t want to go out in this, best relax, try and finish that book, watch some TV or maybe write a few emails, or just go to bed, busy day tomorrow – unless the weather is shit again, then you may as well stay put”.

The light at the end of this tunnel is too far away to contemplate, this will make things worse. There is always something in this life to look for or to think about. It can come in many forms, just like making the most of those last few days before school started again, or when you manage to speak to someone new on a journey to work, not that this was a frequent event, but when it happens, everything seems better, that is the power of the mind.

When the snow finally arrives for good, that white blanket seems to lift an entire town, whether it’s just the simple natural beauty of freshly fallen snow or the extra light that exists when everything is white. I am craving for a break, to see the snow, to walk on the lakes of ice, to walk on the sea, out to islands that can be miles away. I've even been told it’s possible (although not recommended) to walk to Finland……maybe next year for that one!? But soon I hope I'll get to do these things again, and I hope I see the nordic lights, green and blue (and sometimes red if you’re very lucky) travelling across the sky like they have the knowledge of what it is to be a phenomenon, vague and unpredictable, a little different every time, it amazes me how something like that can be so silent.

2. Being Swedish

If you’ve ever been unfortunate enough to be involved in a discussion that leads off into an ugly patriotic ramble, then you’ll know how stereotypes and opinions can be induced and created, almost always to no beneficial conclusion. There may well be no smoke without fire in some cases, but in many instances these formerly strong views can be completely reversed if you look a little bit harder.

It is true that in Sweden the dull, repetitive tones of bottom league pop karaoke type music is a massive hit, as it is to an extent in every country these days. I have always in the back of my mind wrongly associated people in this part of the world as followers and admirers of music that only really compares to the advert jingle in terms of quality and sense, the type of sounds that only make you smile due to memories of years passed on, being able to label a time and a place with a tune. There of course is no immediate or obvious harm with any of this, but for sometime here I did wonder whether there was anything else on offer??

My original opinions were enhanced one evening when I got invited round a friends place to have small gathering for the traditional watching of the “melodifest”. Ask any Swede about this event, it’s big, very big. The melodifest is a song contest, a pop karaoke style song contest; that simply likes to stew in its own pool of tack. This is low quality in every sense of the phrase, and of course it’s a real money spinner too, as people are encouraged to phone and text in votes for their favourite “artist”. The most unfortunate thing about melodifest as far as being Swedish is concerned is how popular it is, it may all once again appear to be harmless, but to the Swede who doesn’t dig this scene, it is an event not to advertise to any foreigner.

It was a cold October afternoon when I found something different, something that was new and great to me. I always try and keep an eye out for something different, unpredictable, and inventive, and I found it. I queued up with a couple of friends to go into a small room called “the lab” and watch an act called Midaircondo. We were lucky to get some good central seats, but even filled to capacity the audience was no more than a hundred or so, and everyone had a good view. Three pretty girls, all dressed in colourful outfits that were individual and feminine, stepped out onto the stage amongst a mass of electronics and various instruments. The three of them sat with their legs over the front edge of the stage, all holding a microphone and a control box, full of electronics used to sample, playback and repeat whatever sounds they were about to make. I really didn’t know what was about to happen, are they going to sing together? Is someone going to get up and do something else..?...pick up an instrument or go to the laptop or something? I think most of the audience were thinking like me, and we all didn’t want to make a sound, all concentrating on the performance that was about to unfold. It started off slowly, the three of them all making short strange sounds into their microphones, and playing with the electronic box, it was strange at first, but intriguing, and you wanted to hear more. It all built up, continued on, until you could follow a path, almost hear a melody, but it was always far away, they were in control here, steering us somewhere, the whole audience were following, enjoying the journey to wherever it was we were heading.

One of their songs, “Serenade” I recalled the most, mainly for an addictive and haunting piano part, although off the web when I got home I could only find a 3-4 minute version, nothing on the ~20 minute version I had seen them perform, but of course a performance is simply that, and when its good, it can’t really be re-lived or heard to the same level.

The nullifying tones of melodifest may be ever present in Sweden, but it’s so pleasing to see and know that there is something very different and available to those who are either lucky, or look carefully.

A Morning To Remember...........

Above: View inside Montsegur Fortress

The mornings can be cold at Easter time, even in southern France. We woke up at around 8 and I could feel the fresh, damp morning air in the caravan. Driving around until sunset we struggled to find a place to stay, eventually our luck changed when we spotted a sign reading “camping 2km”, it was more like 5 really but we didn’t complain as I pulled into a driveway halfway up the mountain where our camping field and a farmer’s cottage stood, with a breathtaking view across part of the Languedoc region. Within minutes we had a key to one of the available caravans complete with its own BBQ and coal left for us to cook on.

I had read about Montsegur years earlier, a mysterious fortress which has an amazing and dramatic history, and is also associated with many myths and legends, including of course the holy grail. This was the place where the Cathars fell; it was their fortress back then. ‘Catharism’ was a religious movement that had flourished in the 13th century, but was always heavily suppressed by the Roman Catholic Church. Eventually, during the Albigensian crusade late on in the 13th century, the last true believers were cornered and under siege at Montsegur, they held out for an unbelievable 9 months in this tiny fortress without surrendering. Eventually they fell of course, and historically at this date, the movement was recorded as over.

The mist on that Easter Sunday morning was thick; although you could feel that the sun would eventually burn through and unveil another glorious day in this beautiful part of the world. It was only a 10 minute drive from our campsite to the bottom of the peak we wanted to scale. Usually the fortress was visible from the road, but my vision was only around 200 yards, only the steep, winding road told us we were in a mountainous region. The path up to the top was damp and muddy, mainly from a small shower the previous night and the morning dew. On the steepest sections you had to crouch low and forward and pray you didn’t slip, although this was a well used path, and our route up had been forged out nicely by thousands of previous hikers. I will never forget that walk up, I couldn’t see more than 5 yards in any direction as the mist thickened and seemed to cling to the mountain, not wanting to let go. It was always a gamble, particularly at this time of day, we may reach the summit and not be able to see a thing, not even the fortress, but of course we carried on regardless, just hoping our luck was in.

It was still too thick at the top, for about half an hour I thought the elements had beaten us, and this magical place was not going to be revealed. We walked about the fortress exploring what we could and waited. Then it all happened so quickly, I could see in the air the skies beginning to clear, mist racing across the sky so quickly, it felt like a drum roll before the big event. Within a few seconds the whole panorama simply came alive and stunned us as we looked on with open mouths. You knew there had to be a view to die for up here, it was just going to be a matter of time. I suddenly remembered I had my camera in my pocket; I fumbled about for it and captured the moment, and yes, it was all worth it, a magical place that simply went above expectation.

King Len

Len sits proudly on his throne

I have no time at the moment, some days I don't even cook and eat properly, this is not recommended, you get drawn into a vicious circle of feeling bad, it will end of course, it must do, soon - but not quite yet. I have no time to post, that annoys me, I think I could make the time, but you tend to choose things like sleep over turning on the laptop and writing.

If I was king, and I once was for about 5 minutes as I sat proudly on my throne, I would always have time to blog, and would never have to work when all I wanted to do was sleep and eat well. Off the top of my royal head, here are some - lets call them "guidance notes" to the land of King Len., King Len wouldn't want to lay down any hard rules for anyone.

1. A suit and tie or general smart dress is not required for any job anywhere, unless the individual really wants to dress smart.

2. In a job where it's not vital that you turn up exactly on time, then don't, just have a sleep in, and work a bit later if you've got stuff to do.

3. People who work in property, particularly estate agents should be sent on courses to show that they are providing a service for everyone else, and shouldn't be so fucking arrogant (I apologise for the profanity, but 5 years of living and renting in London does this to you).

4. It is good to meet your neighbours and speak to people in the surrounding area, especially in big cities, this should be encouraged.

5. Business people and people that work in banks and earn far too much when they mostly produce absolutely nothing, should take a big pay cut, or pay the excess to the teachers and nurses.

6. Any conflict or argument should be settled by having a party.


Len's world may only exist in my head, so I guess its back to work now, then maybe sleep followed by some more work..........I need a holiday, if any blogger knows a world that could be similar to Len's world, let me know.

Also, Len is 30 on Monday, a new decade will begin for me, I'm hoping it will be another good one!

Len on the Road

There are many great places in Europe to visit, here is one of them - Prague, the Czech capital. I haven't posted for a while since I've spent all week there, just had to tell people and share with them the knowledge that if you've never been to this place, then try to find an excuse to go.

A beer and some soup for a hungry and thirsty Len

From the main square

Len's mates pictured by Len on the famous Charles Bridge

Len displays some immature humour on the streets of Prague

The Gateway To The Jungle

(Above: Winters and Len, Winters takes time out from his mysterious world to take Len to the Jungle)

The humidity was always uncomfortable in the middle of the day, especially if you had a rucksack with you, sticking to your back and forcing you to only use one of the straps in an attempt to “let your back breathe”. We found the bus stop in the middle of the thriving city, a small 16 seater, but in this part of the world every journey must’ve doubled this so called seating capacity figure…..not to mention everyone’s belongings, from general luggage bags, to boxes of chickens. Sticking out with our 6 feet frames and white complexions we were instantly surrounded by locals wanting to sell us anything they could that would apparently make our journey more comfortable. The fruit sellers amazed me with their assortment – fruits that I had never even seen a picture of, its only a fruit - but at that point you instantly realise you’re not as clever as you hoped you were, and there’s so much to see and learn in this world!

It was a 4 hour rough ride to our destination, the road was littered with pot holes and obstacles that the driver seem to be confident of avoiding at a high pace, the best you could do was to chat and trade cigarettes with your neighbour, and take in a view of the miles upon miles of plantations and the ever looming jungle covered hills and volcanoes that were slowly approaching. Our destination was “the gateway to the jungle” – “Bukit Lawang”, a tiny village located on a fast flowing part of the river on the edge of the jungle. This magical tiny place simply consisted of small huts that were mainly used as guesthouses for the small number of tourists that came by. The main attraction for visitors here are the orangutans, they’re protected here, a government run station is located here that offers protection from poachers in a wild environment. You can see these amazing animals most days, swinging through the trees with such ease, their amazing strength is something to respect, especially when you get close to them, which can often happen if you wade across the river.

Other than the orangutangs there are monkeys, snakes, all things jungle - and of course the Sumatran Tiger, you’ll almost definitely never see a tiger, even if you lived there forever, but every local of course their own story of an encounter, I enjoyed listening to every story, no matter how far fetched I thought it to be. Other than the wildlife here, the visitor also has the opportunity to climb into a giant rubber ring, and be sent down the fiercely flowing river, past rocks and small wooden bridges, with hopefully a fully intact body at the bottom, this is definitely not a place to break a bone.

One of the bars located halfway up the path along the river actually had an old pool table in, we played with the bar owner and other locals one evening, answering their questions about our marital status (a question that is constantly asked to all foreigners in this part of the world), and what its like in the big cities of the west, and of course listening to stories of tiger encounters. It was a great night, I couldn’t show my appreciation enough, these people not only spoilt us with food and drink, but spoke and entertained us in the nicest possible way – the way that came across to me like they were doing this because they enjoyed it, and simply wanted to speak and play pool with us.

It was almost a year after my visit to Bukit Lawang that I heard the horrific news. It was Winters who told me, he mentioned something about “illegal logging activity” and a “burst dam”. The whole village had been washed away in a catastrophic tidal wave. Every building destroyed, hundreds killed, all gone in an instant. The dam that had been created a few miles up stream by these law breaking loggers had not been strong enough to hold back the huge levels of water that should’ve simply run straight out of the jungle through Bukit Lawang. I often think back and look at the photos of my time there, thinking about what happened to my pool playing buddies, and everyone else I briefly came across whose face I can picture. I like to think they all got away unscathed, but of course the truth is that I will never know.