Ian Kimbell's Homepage

Varanasi
Varanasi is one of the holiest cities in India where Hindu pilgrims come to wash their sins away in the Ganges River. This is a real act of faith as the river is one of the most polluted in the world. The pollution comes from raw sewage (80% of the rural and 10% of the urban population in India do not have access to a toilet) and from industry that pumps 300 million gallons of waste in to the water every day. This, coupled with about 100 bodies that are daily burned and dumped in the river, and the dead dogs and cattle that float around, results in a bacteria content 10,000% higher than the government “safe standard” for bathing.
Watching all this action unfold in a row boat at dawn was a truly magical experience. Floating by, watching people playing with death by immersing themselves in the water, cleaning their teeth or burning a recently deceased relative, gave one a real taste of what this country is about. This was also reinforced by the con-men and pushy sales people who likewise take to the boats to badger you at every step of the way. Even stepping out from the boat at a “burning ghat” (one of the jetties where bodies are burned) you are approached by a “representative” who tries to get you to sponsor the next burning. The actual burning is a remarkably peaceful experience – no crying, no wailing – the families are pleased that their relatives are off to their next life and that they managed to get a burning appointment (there is a long waiting list) and their contentment shows.
Hotels in Varanasi are not that much better than Agra. The citys’ electricity supply is so unreliable; it is not surprising families resort to burnings, a crematorium would constantly have black-outs.
Leaving Varanasi, we took the first class train to Calcutta – a far nicer experience all-round. Here we actually had a door and a conductor as well as a much better class of vermin – we had a mouse rather than the usual cockroaches.

Kolkata (Calcutta)
Calcutta is a great place and was the first place we visited where the splendor of the British rule was really apparent – from the majestic Victoria Memorial a mix between St. Pauls and the Taj Mahal – to the astounding collection of memorabilia housed in the Marble Palace. Built in 1835, by an avid collection of Victoriana, it now houses a collection which the London Victoria and Albert Museum would kill for. The whistle-stop tour takes you through a treasure of chintz, marble busts, huge candle chandeliers and gold clocks. This eventually leads to the ball-room where the dim 60 watt bulb is briefly illuminated to show the huge Rubens masterpiece “The Marriage of St. Catherine” and a number from Joshua Reynolds – all sitting in non-air conditioned rooms open to the not insignificant city air pollution.
Calcutta left a number of impressions on me – swimming in the hotel pool while a flock of crows arrived to have a drink, watching Harry Potter in the “expensive” seats of the Empire Cinema while huge fans cool the enormous clanking projectors and watching the police manage the daily traffic direction change at 2 p.m.
The final experience of Calcutta, however, did rather shock and showed the delta between new and old. Stepping off the shiny metro and going down a side street you find the Kalighat Temple – supposedly the original temple from which the of the village of Kolikata and thus Calcutta originates. Walking round the temple a small black billy-goat was being washed and blessed with petals and incense, when a bell was rung. Looking round 2 pre-washed goats were dragged out and beheaded in front of me. More disturbing than holding up their dripping headless bodies was the fact their decapitated torsos continued to spasm for about 20 seconds after death. It is an enduring image.

Mumbai (Bombay)
Our hotel, the J.W. Marriott, was the type of accommodation featured in the Sunday colour supplements. A beach front location with 3 pools (including one with filtered sea water – nobody swims in the actual sea it is so polluted and in a country where the ultimate nirvana is to douse yourself in the filthy Ganges, that is saying something.)
Bombay is vast sprawling conurbation built on 7 islands and again, although hot, is a really nice city. Sporadic Victoriana jumps out at you at every turn and the hustle and bustle of a big trading city.
Apart from downtown and the India Gate, the main tourist attraction in Mumbai lies in some caves on Elephanta Island outside the city. The caves date between 450 and 750 AD and are dedicated to Shiva (the Hindu destroyer) with some amazing sculptures.
The people are also nice and friendly offering you food in the train on the way back. However, such food may have unforeseen consequences resulting in a quick trip to the local alchemist. Our guide book suggested an antibiotic, which was handed over the counter despite the large, red “only to be sold under prescription” label on the box. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask for some medical marijuana, but a violent bowel movement preempted my question, necessitating a rather swift dash back to the hotel. With my underwear stuffed with toilet paper we said good-bye to Mumbai and flew to our final port of call, Aurangabad.

Aurangabad
A town of 1.5 million inhabitants that would be inconsequential was it not for its proximity to two of India’s highlights, the Buddhist Caves of Ajanta and the Ellora Cave Temples.
The 30 Ajanta caves are set in the steep face of a U-shaped rock gorge and date from the 5th century AD – remnants of the richly decorated paintings adorn both the 25 residential caves and the 5 temple caves. They were discovered accidentally by a British Captain, John Smith in 1819 on military maneuvers, and the first thing he did? Scratch his name, date and regiment on the wall – yes, the first graffiti artist of the time, and naturally British.
The Ellora caves in contrast are a mixture of Buddhist, Hindu and Jain temples decorated with a profusion of remarkably detailed sculptured. The main attraction is the Kailasa Temple, dedicated again to Shiva it is the world’s largest monolithic sculpture, hewn from solid rock by 7000 laborers over 150 years.

In Summary
In conclusion, a fascinating trip but I have had enough of India, for now. The pollution and over-population coupled with rapid industrialization mean major growing pains for this democracy – but for now things work, but the growing pain for both India and the rest of the world will be there for many years to come.

Delhi
Arriving very late at night in Delhi, we collapsed and waking late the next morning, my traveling companion informed as to that nights dream, where they killed me with a spade – an ominous start, was it a prediction of death on the trip or would I really be murdered? Time would tell, but I made a mental note to hide any spades we encountered along the way.
Our first day was spent visiting some of the highlights missed a month ago – the India Gate WWI memorial, the Bahai Temple (more commonly known as the Lotus Temple) and the imposing Qutb Minar Complex with the mysterious 7 meter high iron pillar, which baffle scientists as to how iron of such purity could have been forged in 413 AD.
These excursions although interesting, bought out the usual beggars, illegal snake charmers, pushy sales people and con-artists with which all white people are plagued with during any trip to India. The snake charmer was a highlight though – this practice is now illegal and between watching out for the snake and the tourist police this charmer almost got bitten – most gratifying and possibly the first death on the trip.
From Delhi we took the first of numerous night-trains to the Corbett National Park Tiger Reserve to do some tiger spotting. Getting out at the right stop proved to be an issue as the train “schedule” does not seem to be based on any clock-based system and the minimal signage at the stations made us sweat. “Not to worry”, my companion happily chirped, “we can ask the conductor to knock at the compartment door”. Two concepts embodied in this sentence we missing from the train, “conductor” was one, and “door” was the other. Still we arrived on time to our next near death experience.

Corbett National Park
It was still dark when we were collected from the train station in a 4 wheel-drive jeep (with doors). The trip to our camp was part road, part river-bed and part 45° perilous rock face – how the vehicle stayed on the “road” remains a mystery to me. The camp itself was, however, beautiful – as it emerged candle lit out of the morning darkness (candles were a big part of the trip as there was no electricity). The accommodation at the camp consisted of tents with en-suite tiled bathrooms – as well as wonderfully attentive staff, who cooked up amazing meals and packed lunches for tiger safaris and would supply the odd luxury bucket of hot water to wash off the safari dust.
Looking for tiger proved to me more difficult than we first expected. Despite the hordes of tigers seen by fellow camp dwellers, the first day consisted of driving round and round with 6 other doorless 4 wheel-drive jeeps on a small number of predefined roads in the reserve – it reminded me of a Disney ride as we kept seeing the same cars over and over again. Although we saw some very nervous deer, a python and some spiders we saw no tiger. As a result, we decided for a different approach on day 2 – ditch the jeep and use an elephant. Elephants have a number of advantages over jeeps, they are ecologically sound (just picking and eating fuel on the way), emissions are more environmentally friendly (although equally noxious), they are tall (offering great views) and can go literally anywhere in the bush. There are, however, some downsides: they have no doors, they are not as comfortable as a jeep, they are slow (so when a tiger is spotted you get there way after it and everyone else is has left for lunch) and steering them is difficult – it is accomplished by inhumanly bashing a huge metal spike against the head in the direction you want to go.
With the elephant we saw tiger droppings, tiger scratch marks, tiger lunch left-overs, tiger foot prints and tiger arse prints, where it had sat down. But no real tiger – in fact the closest we got to a tiger was as we left reserve – there was a shop with big stuffed tiger toys. So we left, with heavy hearts and an adrenalin rush we drove back down the cliff to the train station – this time in the jeep without doors – to our next destination, Jaipur.

Jaipur
Jaipur with Delhi and Agra form the “golden triangle” of India – with some of the most renowned sights. Jaipur is known as the “pink city” and has a medley of sights from the magnificent Amber fort-palace with its commanding views of the town to the old city and the city palace.
The most renowned sight is the Hawa Mahal (Palace of the Winds), built in 1799 it is the epitome of Rajput artistry and was built so that the ladies of the royal household could watch the processions of the city whilst being hidden from view. The palaces had to be big, (one Maharaja was 2m tall, 1.2m wide and had 108 wives) with labyrinthine zenana (women’s quarters) where we spent a pleasant hour in pursuit of the exit.
But for me the most fascinating sight is the Jantar Mantar observatory. Built from 1728, precision could only be accomplished by via size – so the observatory is home to a bizarre collection of huge recording instruments, such as a sundial with a 27 meter gnomon and 12 Zodiac tracking devices, with Taurus being the nicest (surprisingly enough). But the trip to Jaipur was too short, and we took a train to Agra.

Agra
Agra has the Taj Mahal – so tourists will always flock there – as a result Agra does not need any other attractions, nice hotels, polite, articulate tour guides or nice people – and indeed it has none of these. Instead it has postcard sellers and rip-off shops selling crafts hand-made “by the decedents of the people who created the Taj” – possibly if they have moved to China. Agra is a pit. Even when we decided to splash out and stay in an up-market Holiday Inn we were disappointed with filthy sheets, a rusty bathroom and ugly wall decorations. We couldn’t wait to leave and join the happy little cockroaches on the train down to Varanasi. (to be continued…)

Being a successful international author, you get invites to all the fancy SAP events, but the request for SAP TechEd ’05 in India arrived on my desk, I must have broken all land speed records getting down to the travel agent.

Arriving in the hotel, I got my second taste of India (the first being the cattle market, also known as “the Bangalore International Airport”) – due to a strike protesting at a 100% entertainment tax hike there was no TV and then all the power went off. Turning to the newspapers, the main feature was about the forthcoming eclipse. Whereas in Europe, we concentrated on the path of the eclipse and the fact the special glasses are needed, the Indian version was a little more esoteric. There is “no harm in eating during eclipses” was the main title and the report went on to reassure pregnant women that if they go out during an eclipse, their baby will not be born blind or with a cleft lip. We risked it going out and went out for a great meal whilst avoiding getting anyone pregnant – I didn’t want to risk a deformed child.

From there it was off to SAP for some work. Bored of that, we booked a day trip to the local town of Mysore, some 130 km away. The trip there confirmed all the clichés India has to offer, hundreds of people just standing around, traffic chaos, dogs and cows meandering through the traffic, roads that suddenly ended for no apparent reason – it took over 3 hours getting there and over 5 on the way back due to bucketing rain, the like of which I have never experienced before.

Mysore was, however, wonderful. Our first stop was the temple and protective stone bull on top of the “8th holiest hill in South India”. At the temple, we were on the verge of passing under the floral garlands decorating the beautiful sliver doored entrance, when Ganesha (the temple god) sent me a mystical fragrant message from a blessed bird high above us. I wasn’t sure if having shit all over me was a good or bad thing when entering an Indian holy place, but it amused the natives in the queue.

From there we went to the beautiful Mysore palace, ex-main seat of the Maharaja. Once inside the palace temple, we were blessed by the local holy man for a few rupees. Everyone emerged with a blessing in the form of an elegant red dot on their forehead. As I was sweating so much, mine quickly melted and I ended up with a huge Harry-Potteresque red lightening blessing – but again, it amused the other people in the temple.

Interestingly all the palaces and temples can only be visited with bare feet. The is so alien to me, imagine telling people they can only walk around, say the Tate Gallery or Capitol Hill, if they take their shoes and socks off, but in India it is the norm. The shoe-return-fee rocked 2,000% during our 15 minutes in one temple (because it was about to be painted) which meant some serious haggling to get them back, much to the amusement of the crowds.

From there it was back to SAP, where the event was in full swing, but such an event highlights India’s biggest problem – too many people. There are 1.2 billion people in this country; and a good portion of them seemed to be at the conference. Despite the excellent management of the event from my SAP colleagues, there are always so many people around you could never find the person “in the know”. For example, you ask 5 different people “when the does the bus leave?” and you literally get 8 different answers – all different, all wrong. In the end I got the truth, I walked over to the bus park and asked the bus driver.

The book signing was rather busy, with queue managers, helpers and people policing the 100 meter long queue to stop people cutting in. In order to detract the multitude, I was tempted to make them all take off their shoes and socks before giving them a copy and then hiking up the return fees exorbitantly, but this was vetoed by Tesha.

From Bangalore, we then flew up Delhi – an amazing, bustling city (with paved roads!) where we visited all the top tourists spots: The Red Fort, Gandhi Memorial, giant Mosques and the stunning Humanyun’s Tomb. Then by train to Agra – the in-train entertainment was excellent, my money was on the green cockroach, the red one’s legs were far too skinny.

Agra was our main and final destination in north India – it is home to the Taj Mahal. From 1631, it took 22 years to build by Shah Jahan as a memorial for his second wife. It was designed as part of a “his and hers” matching set – he wanted a black one. However, before Jahan could bankrupt the country by building #2, his son threw him in prison, where he died 9 years later. Still, his cell had a nice view of the original, and he was compensated by having the thumbs amputated of all the master craftsmen who worked on the original so that nothing so beautiful could be created for anyone else. Talk about job motivation. It is, however, truly magnificent and a nice visit to finish the trip.

I really like India, it has a downside (pollution, crowds, frustration when try to get anything done, crowds, the malaria filled bugs, crowds, trains full of Bird Flu victims and don’t get me started on the toilets – and did I mention the crowds?) but this is way out weighted by the good – the nice people (such as the rickshaw driver so high on something so he let us drive his car), the food, incredible sights and stunning scenery, the markets and the laissez-faire attitude to life. But if you can cope with the bad, I recommend it whole heartedly – if nothing, it will make you stop and think and appreciate the incredibly high standard of living we in the west enjoy.

So… the thought process goes: if J.K. Rowling can knock out a few pages and make a mint, it can’t be that difficult to write an international best-seller. And so the concept for a roller-coaster plot of intrigue and suspense was born. It took literally days to carefully outline the twist and turns of the narrative – the meticulous interplay of the chapters and to balance current reality with the virtual reality of the future.

We decided to pitch the book at the appropriate level and therefore approached the makers of the “for Dummies” series, which covers just about every topic you can think of (there are over 900 titles and over 150 million books in print). Looking at the alphabetical list of Dummies topics, they start somewhere around Acne for Dummies and go on through Arthritis For Dummies, Breastfeeding for Dummies, Jakarta Struts (what ever they are) for Dummies, Nanotechnology for Dummies, Women in the Bible for Dummies and ends somewhere with Yoga for Dummies (although I imagine there will be a “Zygotes for Dummies” coming soon).

But anyway, with the direction fixed, the writing began. Being part of the “for Dummies” series, you have to adhere to a certain number of rules (about 37.8 million at the last count) but for that you get a very nice editor who helps you write and select appropriate illustrations that fit in to the “Dummies Style”. This was interesting, as much of the information had to be amassed from interviews with people who wrote and talked in the “Advanced Astrophysics Style”. However, we ploughed on – at times seriously doubting if the project would be finished on time. Amazingly enough, it did (after moving the deadlines a couple of times) and the book was born: mySAP ERP for Dummies.

The next question is where to launch the book – Paris, New York, Hogsmead? All were carefully considered but due to budget constraints were rejected along with Antarctica, Auckland, Madagascar and Machu Picchu (funnily enough places I have yet to visit, no idea how they got on the list.) No, all the exotic destinations were waived in lieu of the next big gathering of the SAP community – the SAP TechEd Conference in Vienna. Why not launch it there and being so close, we could take advantage of the press hype and do some book signings?

The books arrived in the nick of time, they were literally taken hot off press in the USA and air-freighted to Vienna. They were plugged heavily in the opening presentation, and thus the interest was great – and we soon had literally hundreds of people queuing for a copy. A book signing is no easy organizational feat. A large number of helpers are needed to get the books on time, organize the event, keep the signature production-line rolling, direct the foot traffic, answer questions and pacify the punters who were too late to receive one of the 1,000 books we signed. Our behind the scenes people were excellent, and everything ran without a hitch.

Banal chit-chat thus ensues with each signing, the most common question as “does your hand ache yet?” (yes) or “are you the next J.K. Rowling of SAP?” (yes). Unfortunately all royalties go to SAP, so I will not be buying a huge castle in Scotland, but all I can say is, watch out Joanne, there is a new kid on the block!

This adventure centered on the area of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, about 80 km north of Berlin for week-long boating trip. We set off for the 770 km long drive at 5:45 a.m. and then again at 6:45 a.m. after returning to pick up that critical bag with passports, tickets and money.

The journey was uneventful, but we realized we may have packed a little too much when we arrived at the marina. There were about 12 crews vying to be the first on their boats and, as since most of us were boating virgins, we stood back to watch and wait.

Most groups made a single journey from car to boat, transporting all luggage with a small blue cart provided for this purpose. Making our 3rd journey, and filling the cart to bursting point, I had to wonder if we really needed all this paraphernalia. Other crews had a few garment bags and a lot – and I mean a lot – of alcohol. We, on the other hand, seemed to have put a greater emphasis on making the boat more homely as we unpacked the fruit bowl, downy pillows, table cloth, ships mascot (the stuffed cat Pilchard), comfy slippers, After Eight mints and bizarrely a turquoise feather boa (in case it got cold on deck). Still, we had booked the boat one size up so we could have a separate “morning room”, which proved useful for some extra storage.

After a rather too brief introduction to the boat and check of our driving licenses, we were handed the key, shown how to start the engine, the way the pump-action toilets worked and given an emergency telephone number if something went really wrong (which we only had to use once when bilge-pump went crazy). And with that we glided majestically out of the harbor.

Actually, “glided majestically” may be a bit of an over-statement. The boat was pretty big 12 meters long and 4 meters wide and not that easy to maneuver, as we quickly discovered. Getting out of our tight berth meant much hysterical shouting and running backwards and forwards to see if we had hit anything, but we finally made it to the waterway. This state of affairs repeated itself going under our first bridge and through our first lock.

From then on, if you pardon the pun, it was plain sailing. A roster was created so that everyone got a chance to play captain and we lazily cruised the area stopping off here and there for afternoon tea, to go for a swim or enjoy an afternoon snooze. The area is really popular with boats as it offers and idyllic mix of small lakes and canal ways, coupled with a plethora of wildlife.

Most of the wildlife was fascinating to look at, interesting ducks, herons, owls and other ornithological delights. Wildlife in the evening was a different matter. Anchoring the boat in a quite spot for the night, we would prepare good fare, and enjoy it on deck together with a swarm of little white flies, wasps or mosquitoes depending on our berth. These annoyances were quickly banished when the bats came out, streaking across the bright starry the sky – seemingly just inches from our heads.

During the day we would occasionally stop off at a small town to seek out provisions or check out the local attractions. This whole area used to part of the old communist East Germany so attractions are few and far between. This became abundantly clear when, in order to attract customers, a restaurant we passed had a big sign “Restaurant, with Television!” Other enticements included Europe’s longest batik wall-hanging in a church and the 2nd German home of Father Christmas in the town of Himmelspfort (heaven’s gate).

I was, however, moved visiting the ex-Ravensbrück concentration camp. This was the only concentration camp purely for women and 130,000 were imprisoned here, including 11 British POWs, making uniforms for the German army. Despite the ravage of years, the buildings left standing and the displayed life stories of many of the women were very touching.

Sadly the week drew to a close. The sunshine continued to beat down on us as we, now expertly, navigated through the final locks to return to the Wolfsbruch marina. We had used almost all of the paraphernalia we had bought, enjoyed excellent meals and harmony still reigned supreme on the boat.

If you have some good friends and want to spend a week on a really relaxing holiday, this is highly recommended – remember no internet, no newspapers, no e-mail. Checkout www.crownblueline.com for more information.

You know, it becomes patently obvious that you are getting on in years, when the theatre parts you are cast in drift from the nubile, young hero to the “character” role. However, even being cast as such an individual, the chance to work with such a splendid cast made me swallow my pride and grace the stage with my presence once again.

A Funny Thing Happened On Way To The Forum, written by the illustrious Stephen Sondheim, is set on a spring evening in Ancient Rome, circa 200 years before the Christian era. The story concerns a gullible brothel owner, Marcus Lycus, contracted to obtain a virgin for the mighty Roman soldier, Miles Gloriosus. The acquired virgin and the lovesick next-door-neighbor’s son, Hero, fall in love and they eventually get together – but not before much slapstick, confusion, mistaken identity, potion swapping and general cross-dressing, all this orchestrated by the conniving slave Pseudolis, desperate for freedom, and gullible sidekick Hysterium, both of whom act as the real stars of the show.

Now you may mock and titter about my role, and please no emails saying “typecast”, but I play Erronius, a befuddled old man who is partially blind and always confused. I spend most of the piece wondering, either abroad (i.e. round the back of the stage), looking for my two children who were kidnapped by pirates years ago or around the Seven Hills of Rome (i.e. round the back of the stage). I mumble a lot and gabble about my gaggle of geese ring (trying saying that 3 times, fast). OK, it is a small cameo role, but I hope memorable and crucial for the final twist of the plot – which enables a happy ending.

It is a musical, but no worries, the audience is spared of my singing except for a couple of lines here and there. I was a little intimated by the fantastic voices of the rest of the cast many of whom could do this professionally. There are surprisingly few hits from the show known outside the theatrical world. “Tragedy Tomorrow, Comedy Tonight” is probably the most recognized, but my favourite has to “Everybody Ought to Have Maid”, which has a maddening way of getting stuck in your head.

A word here must be raised for the fabulous costume-ladies (I have to be nice to them or I am be cursed to be in blue fur for the rest of Heidelberg acting career). The costumes (or lack thereof) of Marcus Lycus’ “courtesans” are wonderful and really help to liven the performances. For my sins, I wear some fetching (authentic) Greek sandals (thanks Barbara, my little Grecian urn) and a heavy wool dress, which was not exactly ideal for the 40°c (104°f) temperatures in our unair-conditioned theatre (it was only 34°c (94°f) outside, but the lights..)

So, with sweat dripping from places that we did not know we could sweat from and make-up melting from our faces we took our final curtain call and bathed in the rapturous applause from the audience members, as well as in the sweat from fellow actors and actresses.

The show has been a real success, not least due to the enlightened director Dane – someone whose clarity of vision and comedic timing (and occasionally lack there of when I am waiting for a cue) could certain lure me on stage again (hint, hint).

So off to Boston, home of red socks, with the hope of experiencing one of those delightful tea parties the city is famed for and reliving the joyous cries of “the British are coming!”. The main purpose of the trip was actually to participate in the annual SAP user conference, with the underlying goal of having a really nice birthday. The first couple of days were pretty standard, critically acclaimed presentations, press discussions and general networking in the brand spanking new Boston Convention Center, inconveniently located in the middle of nowhere.

The 18th was naturally rather special. Luncheon consisted of clam chowder and a huge juicy (red) lobster, and was followed by a bit of work. Then after a quick nap, it was off to the auspicious Finale Restaurant. Finale is famed for the lack of main courses it serves. Appetizers and desserts are its specialty with an emphasis on desserts. Chocolate fluffy creations after chocolate creation emerged from the kitchen and we waddled out of the restaurant with smiles on our faces. But the evening was not over yet. Clutching the VIP tickets we staggered to the first (12:01 am) USA showing of the 3rd Star Wars movie – Revenge of the Sith. I finally got to bed at 03:30 and the press and customer discussions next day were a bit of a blur. Still I have not read any negative publicity of the red-eyed man (yet).

Following Boston, it was gentle 4 hour drive to West Point to see one of the most talented musicians I know. That evening, I thoroughly enjoyed an excellent concert, the highlight of which was a compilation of show tunes from Mary Poppins. The next morning New York was on the agenda. A visit to ground zero, shopping, and even an failed attempt to get ticket to Monty Python’s Spamalot did not deter from the enjoyment. After saying my good-byes to the gorgeous cats and deaf dog (a musician owning a deaf dog, there is a joke there somewhere), it was off to Miami.

Miami weather was a shock. After the rainy 6°c (42°f) fleece and coat weather of New York, Miami’s 33°c (92°f) humidity and beating sun really hit after exiting the plane (especially as I was still wearing the fleece and coat).

The first evening was spent watching an all American basket ball game – the Miami Heat vs. the Detroit Pistons. The American Airlines Arena in Miami seats 19,600 amongst which was LL Cool J, Gloria Estefan and myself. The difference was that the celebrities (excluding myself) had comfy ring-side seats. We, on the other hand, were so far away we literally had our backs to the wall – well, backs to the where the wall connected with the ceiling would be more accurate. But fear not, I did not get my shirt dirty as the ushers insisted I wear the rather red Heat T-Shirt (which everyone entering the building was issued with). We were so far back from the court that the Miami Heat’s star player, Shaquille O’Neal (2.16 meters (7 foot, 1 inch) tall), was reduced to the size of a scurrying ant.

It was an exciting game, with cheerleaders dressed in red (of which there were two distinct groups, one with an average age of 18, the other 70) and the tension really built at the score reached 78-78 in the 4th quarter. However, all this red did not help Miami as the Detroit Pistons won 92 to 86. Americans are a funny lot – to speed up the game the ball has to hit a basket hoop every 24 seconds, or play reverts to the opposing team – yet they slow down the game by inserting huge pauses at regular intervals so commercials can run. Make up your bloody minds! Four 15 minute quarters thus took over three hours. I guess it gives the concession stands, beer vendors and crap souvenir shops more time to sell more concessions, beer and overpriced crap (the Shaquille O’Neal doll in the picture was a snip at $420, complete with nodding head.)

The final evening was spent on a boat trip around Miami, viewing the back-end of the $10 – $35 million villas of the mega-rich and famous. Our knowledgeable captain had a story to tell about just about every house from Madonna’s ex-house (she had to move out as the neighbors complained about the wild parties) to the incredible mansion financed by latex gloves, the inventor of which lived there.

From Miami, is was a quick dash home to follow my 2nd career, more of that in the next few days..

So I ask “what should I wear?”.
“Well”, replied the lady in a charming Swedish accent, “you know the Michelin man?”
“Eh.. yes”, I reply tentatively,
“Well, that is the look you should be going for”.
And so began the Ice Extravaganza. Ten days trolling 1,200 kms (880 miles) through the artic circle looking akin to the Michelin man in search of adventure and, more importantly, warmth.

Our quest began in the north of Sweden in the town of Lulea (1). Here we picked up our noble steed, a shiny new Volvo V50 and headed straight for the Finnish boarder. Our car had several unusual features – a space heater, spiked tires and an electrical plug, used every night, to keep the motor block warm and to stop it cracking when starting in the morning sub-zero temperatures.

Through the snow storm, our first destination was the town of Kemi (2), on the Bothnian Bay. Kemi is a major port for Finland, where they import huge quantities of oranges e.t.c. to keep scurvy at bay during the long winter months. We were there to go to the beach. Leaving the hotel we enquired of the receptionist what the temperature was. “Well”, came the reply, “it is -15°c here, so it will be about -30°c (-22°f) at the beach”. That statement is wrong on so many levels, but we still headed off to rendezvous with our ship, the Sampo.

The Sampo is an ice breaker, built in 1960. However, she became redundant as container ships got bigger and her width could not carve a passage wide enough for them to pass. She was mothballed for a while until an enterprising Finn got the idea to offer ice breaker cruises. Starting in 2000 with 15 people, they now take 40,000 per year on a 5 hour cruise, teaching people about the nuances of how ice breakers work. (Interestingly they do not “cut” through the ice, the 9 engines delivering 12,000 horsepower pushes the rounded hull on top of the ice and the weight of the ship smashes down and breaks the ice. If it gets stuck, 250,000 liters of water are pumped from one tank to another in 40 seconds to make the ship wobble and thus crack the ice.)

After a ship tour and a reindeer lunch (the first of many) came the highlight of the trip – swimming the water of freshly broken ice. The ice was about 30 cms thick – 20 cms is thick enough to support a house and the ice can get to be 60 cms. We donned especially subtly coloured survival suits (allowing you to stay in the water for up to 7 hours) and went for a dip. It was great – cold, the wind chill bring the temperature down further so that getting out of the suits was a problem, the zippers froze the moment you got out of the water and had to be rinsed in warm water by a hot crew member before they would release their contents.

After a night in an igloo, we went on to the city of Rovaniemi (3), home of Father Christmas. Here we visited Santa’s Village, where in 2004 the post office received half a million letters, just before Christmas, they are coming in at 32,000 a day. Here Santa’s elves answer as many as they can, although only about 8% can be answered due to missing return addresses or illegibility – we were put to work. Then off to meet the great man himself – at an unreasonable 17€ per person. I gave him my wish list; a Ferrari, plasma screen TV, and world peace. He asked if I had been a good boy, and I confirmed that I had. Let’s see what happens.

That afternoon we went on an adventure tour, taking a 20 km snowmobile ride to the Husky men, and then a dog sledge tour of the countryside before returning on the snowmobiles. We had a 4 minute introduction to snowmobiling before setting off along the frozen river bed in a totally white alien landscape. As we got to the dogs it started to snow making it even more magical. After being warned never to let go of the dog-sledge we were off. Ten people, 2 each in a sledge, one passenger and one driver in single file, accelerated through the woods. The dogs knew where to go, but I watched with amazement as one of my traveling companions tripped, was dragged through the snow and finally let go of the sledge. The less-burdened dogs quickly accelerated, alarming the passenger, who in a move worthy of James Bond, hurdled the sledge and brought it to halt. Exciting stuff.

From there, after some warm juice and sausage on a stick, we drove back in a total white-out. I was amazed our guide got us home, it was about 4:00pm and already dark – the snow was coming down so fast I could only just make out the snowmobile in front of me. Reaching our destination, I asked the guide how he had done it, avoiding the perils such as open pools in the river, and he reassuringly said he had no idea, he had been terrified too. The perfect end to a wonderful day.

But from there the adventure was just beginning… (on to part 2)

The second part of our Ice Extravaganza (part 1 available here) was spent in Sweden. We drove from Santa-land to the town of Pajala (4) to see the largest sundial in the world (well, it was on the way). Eclipsing the previous record holder, Disney, by over a meter these stumps of wood 38.33 meters apart were very brown. Still, I have to question the wisdom of building a sundial in the artic circle where it is dark for half the year, but that is Sweden for you.

From there it was on to our main destination of the trip Kiruna (5), 200 kms inside the artic circle and with an area of 19,447 sq km (about 7,508 sq mi) making it Sweden’s largest city. This mining town was founded in 1900 after the local Sámi tribe showed settlers a huge rich iron-ore deposit which maintains the viability of the town, but sadly it is doomed. The town itself is build directly on top of the angled iron-ore seam – over the next 10 years if more ore is mined, the town will collapse. Either half the town will have to be moved or the mine shut down. Time will tell – but the mine tour we took I am sure was fascinating (if you speak Swedish).

But this was not the main attraction around Kiruna. The main attraction is a hotel in neighboring Jukkasjärvi. Now, call me old fashioned, but some people may call us stupid for spending 320€ for a hotel room without toilet, shower, door or heat – but that is just the appeal of the Ice Hotel. 208 people can sleep in the 70 rooms and 18 suites. The suites are spectacular – each one has huge ice sculptures designed by international artists. One suite had a replica of Da Vinci’s the last supper with 13 life-sized ice people with a 2 meter high ice Vitruvian Man. Another has an ice bed shaped like a guitar and an ice stage, complete with ice instruments and a karaoke machine. I have never seen such spectacular hotel rooms. And believe me, ice sculpting is not that easy – I took lessons and my beautiful mushroom came out looking like something totally different.

The hotel has an ice church, ice globe theatre replica (playing Romeo and Juliet) and the stunning Absolut Ice Bar – where the glasses are ice blocks with a hole drilled in and we danced the night away. This is all made possible by the neighboring Torne River – an exceptionally slow moving river with very pure water. This combination makes the crystal-clear ice form evenly and uniformly. Each year about 400 tons of ice blocks are harvested from the river and kept chilled for the following year’s hotel. This coupled with “snice” (a mixture of snow and ice that is sprayed in moulds) form the walls and ceilings. Even so the weight of the snice make the hotel shrink, it looses about 50cm in height during it’s lifetime from December to mid April. By July it has totally melted.

The beds in the hotel are wooden constructions on pillars of ice, covered in reindeer skins. You are issued with a heavy duty sleeping bag and instructed to wear thermals, socks and a hat. You close the curtain, turn off the light and sleep in the -5°c (23°f) temperature. Although we had booked a normal room, some of the suites were empty so we snuck out after lights-out and slept in these huge rooms enjoying the view in the morning. However, waking up in the middle of the night for a call of nature is problematic. The toilets, showers and lockers where your baggage is kept, is some distance away in the “warm wing” and necessitates a quick dash through the ice corridors. Rather exhilarating at 4:00 am.

After a good nights sleep we were on for more adventuring on a snowmobile hunt for the elusive moose. After seeing 17, the novelty wore off and we tore up the snow on our snowmobiles for a couple of hours (moose are not the brightest animals, they think if they stay still you will not be able so see them as their brown coats camouflage them in the trees, however, if it has just snowed the trees are white so they stand out like a sore thumb).

Our penultimate port of call was Jokkmokk (6), where the 400th Jokkmokk craft fair was being held. This attracts thousands of visitors from all over Sweden and is apparently the place to find a husband or wife. Expecting a riotous time we were a little disappointed – the merchandise on offer – bits of leather, knives and socks did not live up to the promised “crafts” and the implied orgiastic behavior we had heard from so many did not materialize. However, I did purchase a rather fetching silver-fox hat and some thick socks.

And so with heavy hearts we returned to Lulea (1) for our final night. There is a World Heritage Site here in the Gammelstad Church Town. The first church was built in 1339, people flocked to it, but its distance from anywhere else meant that the congregation had to spend the night, so they started building cottages around the church and a market sprung up. There are still 408 cottages build around the church and it is very picturesque.

We flew back to a non-white landscape of central Europe. The -6°c cold of Malschenberg was relatively warm arriving back, and the sun rising at 7:00 am is a little perturbing. It was a real Ice Extravaganza – my only regret was not having seen the northern lights, but that is an excellent reason to go back one day…

With traveling budgets tight for the rest of the year, and social life going through a bit of turmoil, one has to look at other horizons for entertainment. So with the same-day arrival of an invitation to a Halloween party and flyer from my local theatre offering professional make-up classes, it did not take a genius to make a connection.

There were 2 make-up classes, the first focused on making one look more youthful and generally improved, the second on giving character and making one looker older. Both classes use a “base” colour as the groundwork – thick make-up, similar in colour to your normal skin tone, which forms a canvas on which to use lighter and darker shades and coloured pencils to create effects in the form of shapes and lines.

Unsurprisingly, the first “youth” class was very popular – techniques such as straightening a nose, giving a more prominent, distinguished jaw line or making the eyes sparkle left everyone with a sense of amazement of what could be accomplished with a few brush stokes and a steady hand.

Aging, the less popular class, built on the experiences of youth (now, isn’t that a surprise), a few more brush stokes and a more wobbly hand essentially adding the ravages of old age. It was interesting also to note the effect make-up can have on hands, an often neglected theatrical area.

So with the Halloween party approaching, how to make use of my new found talents? Should I go with youth and beauty or type-cast, as friend so kindly suggested, as an evil witch? Well, searching through the dregs of the wardrobe, I found a few old boring Halloween costumes, but then I came across spoils of my recent travels, an Arab headdress, a ghutra, from Jordan and a dishdasha robe from Egypt. These, coupled with the darker base shades from my make-up class, would transform me in to an authentic chic Arab sheik.

It worked! The hostesses, Mei-Ling, did not recognize me as the door opened and the cats made a fast exit. The all-day decoration and cooking frenzy had transformed the apartment in to a well stocked witch’s coven, the stocks of which rapidly diminished as the guests arrived. On top of Mei-Ling and sheik alla-Ian-bin-hungry, there was a cow (whose teats were strictly off limits), several witches, a nurse, assorted warlocks, countess Dragula (sic), Mrs. Potato head, a nun and the fabulous puss in boots.

There were some interesting side-effects from some of the costumes. Standing in front of any light source, it became blindingly obvious that I was wearing very little beneath it. The cow’s bovine emotions caused her to get teary eyed every time she passed a pint of milk. However, costume issues did not stop the evening being rounded off with an excellent game of charades.

And so to be bed, but with age comes wisdom and here is a little tip. If you do darken your features considerably then you may not want to change to fresh white and cream-coloured bed linen on that day. Despite extensive cleansing, you may have horrible brown smudges all over it the next morning…