Over the hills, under the moon - and off the beaten path

　 In Denmark we have the expression 'to keep Elsinore Castle at port side'. As you're sailing north through Oresund, this means, you're bound for the Seven Seas. The other day Rita and I took the ferry to Sweden and sailed just past Elsinore castle. This was our first trip in a long time as Rita had been ill for more than a year. Now she is well and we  celebrated the start of our brand new travelling season of 2020 by taking a small warm-up trip to the Swedish seaport of Helsingborg. We thought the world was soon to be our oyster, but just a few days later the corona virus closed down everything! Now, living in seclusion and lockdown like almost everybody else, we can't even reminisce about the fantastic sightseeings we had while in Helsingborg. There was none! In hindsight, we actually should have thought a second time before deciding to use a bitterly cold Sunday to visit a small provincial town, where ...

Yep - I know, it IS cheesy, but coming to Boston for a few days, I just had to look up Cheers, which I frequented for so many hours in the 80ties, where the bar appeared almost non-stop on TV sets around the world. Sitting for a pint (on Norm's seat) I found out the brutal truth: Actually, no one in there knows your name! A few hours later, I happened to find the real deal. Deep down in Southie - the notorious Irish-Catholic neighborhood in South Boston, which  the gangster 'Whitey' Bulger  ruled for decades - I found refuge from the cold wind inside the pub  Murphy's Law. In here, nobody wanted to have their photos taken (and you don't push your luck in Southie) - but it was a nice place to sit for a couple of hours - and actually, a few of them did indeed ask for my name 

My feeling just now is - emptiness! For the last couple of weeks, I have been working for the Bernie Sanders campaign leading up to the New Hampshire primary. The Bernie Brigade is known for its enthusiasm and vigor - and we, the scores of volunteers, have been  canvassing the neighborhoods in and around the snow-filled capital of Concord. Now - the election is over! Our candidate won. Last night we partied - and this morning all the candidates, the reporters, the satellite uplink trucks, and all my Bernie Bros have left town - bound for the upcoming primaries in Nevada, South Carolina, and beyond. As I walked the streets this morning, I felt like the only guy left and now I wait for my bus to Boston and the flight back home. I sit, thinking back on some fantastic days filled with laughter, camaraderie, hard work, and a lot of sludge and huge snowdrifts to cross before you reached  the doors to knock. When I volunteered for the Bernie Sanders campaign, it was...

Last night, I went to the huge rally, which Trump held to spite the Democrats on the evening of their Primary! I probably have to keep this a secret for my Bernie friends, as most of them would find attending a Trump rally as offensive as if you wanted to go dancing with the devil himself. I went, and - what can I say - is seeing believing? Can you believe how many red hats you can have standing in line on a bitterly cold night? How many you can cram into one hot stadium? You probably can, when you know how hard the recession hit New Hampshire in the 2010s. Today employment is much better and many blue-collar workers see Trump as their savior. He is the astute businessman personae they know from Fox News and from many seasons of reality TV. Can you understand how a person, who is rambling along for more than an hour, obviously speaking whatever rubbish comes into his head, can gather this much admiration? The roaring red hats might be too busy cheering to ac...

Many years ago, I saw a newsreel of presidential candidates walking the snow-filled streets around New Hampshire, greeting voters in diners, grocery stores, and barbershops. I was a child then, and the candidates may have been Nelson Rockefeller and Barry Goldwater, but I still remember deciding at that time, that I would one day experience the New Hampshire primary, which every four years is the first primary in the nation. 56 years later it has finally happened. I'm in Concord, the capital of New Hampshire, the candidates are here, the snow is everywhere and I'm not just a bystander to all the political debates - I'm thrown right into the action, as I'm here working as a volunteer in the Bernie Sanders campaign. In Concord, we're probably 20 or 30 activists, who walk the streets, knock on doors, distribute flyers, and try to persuade the voters. This has been a dream come true - and not only am I working for the Democrats in what probably will be...

Where can you find this pastoral idyll just a mere twenty minute walk from the center of a capital city. Only in Edinburgh, I guess Inside the Holyrood park, just next to Old Town, I was amazed to stumble upon the ruin of an old chapel high up on a rocky ledge. A few more minutes of  further walk and I was climbing the slope of an extinct volcano. Arthurs Seat is described by Robert Louis Stevenson as ‘ a mountain in virtue of its bold design’ ,and even though the climb doesnt bring you to the top of the world, the view of Edinburgh, the Firth of Forth and the distant mountains of the Highlands is so amazing, you're allowed to indulge yourself with a few selfies. Most climbers do!

We're standing at the Hadrian wall, looking north. The hills and moors of Northern England seem to stretch forever into, what looks like wildling country. My friend Ole and I have for the past few days been walking along the ancient fortifications, which were erected almost 1900 years ago on the order of  Roman Emperor Hadrian. The walls were meant to protect the Roman empire from the Northern Barbarians and they stretched from sea to sea, crossing valleys and mountain tops During the following centuries the fortifications were used as  convenient quarries and although many of the original 24 million stones were used to build  castles and farm buildings all over Northumberland, significant portions of the wall still stand and they can be followed along the adjoining Hadrian's wall path The path is almost empty for wanderers, as the weather the last few days has been quite miserable. Strong winds and violent rain showers have been w...

  Michael and I have now spent a few weeks in our village in the Ardeche. Just relaxing, reading and, for my part, getting a bit more fit after my knee operation, by taking longer and longer walks in the surrounding mountains Not much happens as the village is coming out of its winter hibernation. An old man is seen scuttling down the alley. Bon jour You throw another “ bon jour” at the woman passing by as you start the first of your daily walks uphill towards Saint Roche - the chapel that was built to express the villagers' gratitude for having survived the plague many years ago. At the  walk today  I had violets to look at and each day I find a new flower blossoming  - like yesterday an abundance of  yellow anemones. The ditch is still full of chestnuts from last fall and from the torn up mud, you can see  that  wild boars must still be coming down to eat whatever is  left. These micro expe...

When Rita couldn't fly out with me to Hong Kong, she gave me a mission (should I choose to accept it!). The mission was to contact one of the city's infamous 'villain-whippers'. These sorcerers are known for putting spells on villanous people - and Rita had a certain person in mind (think politician - not mentioning any names in an open forum!) Coming to Hong Kong, the question was, how to find these three sorcerers in a city of almost 8 million? Well - this IS magic, and last night, I just happened to walk past them. Purely by coincidence! There they sat. under an overpass in the Causeway Bay neighborhood. Three elderly women, doing the 'Da Siu Van' - whacking paper effigies of bad guys with their slippers.  Surrounded by candles and burning sticks of incense, they looked like the three witches of 'Macbeth'. I sat down on a rickety plastic chair. Presented one of the women with a copied photo of the particular villain, Rita had...

It has been this way for centuries. Every year, on the 15th evening of the eighth lunar month, the small, secluded Hong Kong neighborhood of Tai Hang is the center of an awe-inspiring dance of the flames. That evening was yesterday - and I was lucky to be one of the many running around the narrow alleys, while a 67-meter blazing dragon was carried around by 300 local men. The ceremony is part of the traditional Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival, where the city parks are filled with lit paper lanterns and  where friends and families gather to enjoy an evening of the full moon. In the parks, it is a family event - in the alleys of Tai Hang it is a ritual of flame and fury. You first hear the drums and gongs - and then the beast, the mighty dragon, winds its way with burning cput into its long hemp-rope spine. It is prompted along forward by two so-called 'pearls', two burning balls of fire swinging on the end of long sticks.   Sometimes the procession moves...