Category Archives: Wanderer

Italy, Wanderer

c i t t a n o v a

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[ 15:43 wednesday 30 august – cittanova, calabria ]

plane trees cast dappled shade over me and palms rustle in the warm breeze. i’m sitting in a park in the quiet town of cittanova. from here an olive-covered plain stretches west to the calabrian coast whilst the mighty aspromonte mountains rise sharply to the east. i’m waiting for something to happen.

for the last couple of days i’ve been in tropea, a mediaeval town perched on a rock above the sea. it’s a beautiful place but there were too many people. so this morning i got on a rattly little train to the inaccurately named town of gioia (joy). my trusty map indicated a branch line winding up to the mountains from there, but the timetables at gioia station showed no sign of it. i feared it had been closed down but when i asked an official he pointed to a separate station down the road.  here to my delight i found a 1950s single-carriage train waiting, painted in bright red and yellow.

twenty minutes later i was bouncing and squeeking through olive groves and forest across the plain. my fellow passengers were a nun, a mother and a baby.

getting off at cittanova i found the station completely deserted. exiting to the street there were a couple of children playing who stopped and stared as soon as they saw me. i smiled and asked directions to the town centre. they continued to stare and said nothing. i don’t think many tourists come to cittanova.

i picked my way through narrow crumbling streets and soon found my way to the main piazza dominated by a stark white church. a big stage was being constructed and a bunch of musicians was huddled to one side. i asked whether there was an information office but they were all freshly arrived for a performance this evening and no wiser than me. the only other sign of life was a fellow hovering at the corner of the piazza. i asked him and he told me to wait, crossed to a doorway and shouted something inside.

a moment later a sparky young lady called patrizia came out, bid me help her close the door and took me in hand. first she drove me to the one and only bed and breakfast in town, but its two rooms were already occupied. then she drove me to the mother of someone who runs a hostel up in the mountains. there was no definitive answer but i’m due to phone in an hour by which time it’ll be clear if there’s room for me. patrizia dropped me off here to wait. if there’s space in the hostel i’ll have to polish my hitch-hiking skills since there’s no bus, taxi or car hire in cittanova.

19:05 / now seated at the roadside in the centre of ton with a beer at my side. when i called the hostel they told me they didn’t have any space. i considered catching the last train of the day to polistena right at the end of the line. but there’s no guarantee i’d find somewhere to stay there. patrizia had mentioned a hotel on the outskirts of cittanova so i sought it out and took a room.

21:10 / the last few hours have been a fabulous cavalcade. as i was writing my previous entry by the road several men came over and asked if i needed any help. when i explained that i wanted to take a hike up in the mountains they started suggesting all manner of routes, though i got the impression it had been a while since any of them had actually been up themselves. each one of them warned me that i would get lost and meet my doom if i followed any route other than the one they were advocating.

eventually a younger chap called michele rolled up on a bicycle and by the way the others deferred it was clear he knew the mountains rather better than they did. he proceeded to take me to his family house to dig out some maps then to various friends’ houses who might be interested in coming up with me, but all of them were out. after this he took me to the town hall where i met cittanova’s environmental director and mayor. the latter was calmly discussing how his car was blown up by ill-wishers earlier this evening. finally michele took me to a keen rambler called gaetano who pulled out glasses of amaro and photos he’d taken on treks throughout the aspromonte. if the weather’s clear he’ll come up with me tomorrow.

i doubt this is what most people are after when they go traveling but it’s exactly the kind of thing that delights me most. i feel completely alive, swept along by currents of happenstance and unexpected friendship, richly connected to a place where i was a complete stranger just eight hours ago. i’m so happy i could cry.

UK, Wanderer

g r e e n m a n

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[ 02:30 monday 21 august – glenusk estate, gwent, wales ]

it’s the final night of the green man festival, here in the welsh hills. after three days gorging ourselves on music the crowd of three thousand has distilled down to the forty-odd people crammed into this yurt. almost everyone is playing a percussion instrument of some kind, in most cases bottles or jars. for the last half hour i’ve been hammering a big metal olive oil canister. i shall probably remember this as the high point of the festival. there’s a sense of exhuberence and fellowship. for the first time we’re producing something together rather than consuming it.

in 1999 i played at camel rock in the isles scilly. then in 2004 i spent a couple of hours at womad. but this has been my first fully fledged experience of a music festival. i took the train to abergavenny with jan and luke on monday morning, from where we took a taxi up to the festival site. we pitched our tents under a big oak tree and we’ve been here since then.

there are three music stages and several other venues. the music covers a wide spectrum but most of it is evolved from some kind of folk tradition. the highlights for me have been gruff rhys (all but two of whose songs were in welsh), a band called “nalle” which sounded like icelandic music from outer space, and a duo from new mexico playing accordian and violin.

the music has been quite euro-american focused and the crowd is distinctly middle class. personally i’d have enjoyed more asian, african and south american ingredients. but i don’t want to carp, i’ve loved it all.

: c :

Sandhurst, Wanderer

k a y a k

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[ 15:23 sunday 13 august – sandhurst,  gloucestershire ]

i’m with mum and dad for the weekend, perched in the sitting room   with the garden a mass of lively greens against the overcast sky. mum   remedying my botched efforts turning up a pair of linen trousers i   bought from chieko’s stall at spitalfiends. on the radio the bach  cello suites are being played in a curious transcription for guitar.

yesterday we all went canoeing on the river wye, mum and dad together  in an open canoe and me in a bright yellow kayak. we did an eight  mile stretch around the symonds yat gorge in the middle of the forest  of dean, a gorgeous and mysterious landscape. we saw salmon jumping,  buzzards wheeling overhead and even a kingfisher darting azure across  the water. the river was very low and at several points the water  formed races over the stony bed. at one such race i made an idiot of  myself and succeeded in capsizing, to the amusement of mum and dad.  the water was so deliciously warm that when we’d finished the journey  and hauled the canoes out of the water i found a secluded spot and  went for a swim.

for the past month or two i’ve been looking for a house to buy in  london but truth be told i’m ambivalent about the whole exercise. one  of my experiments from 1998 to 2003 involved trying to avoid owning  things and it left me with a strong sense that the less i owned the  happier i was. so long as i have access to necessary things and  services i have no desire to own them. people usually talk about the  feelings of security that come with ownership but in my experience  there is much more sense of burden and restriction.

a house is probably the pinnacle of the ownership malaise, surrounded  as it is by long-term financial obligations and a multitude of  complex maintenance requirements. i have no interest in a house as an  investment, which seems to have become a primary motivator for many  people. i just want somewhere to live.

the thing that started me thinking about buying somewhere was the  realisation that there are a hundred things i’d like to change in the  flat where i live, but because i rent it i’m not able to do it. the  bathroom and kitchen need refitting, the roof needs strengthening and  given proper access, the brickwork on the western wall needs sealing  so rainwater doesn’t seep in, more storage needs building in. all  these things would make a difference to my daily life.

of course i don’t really like living in london, which further  diminishes my enthusiasm for buying a house here. when i returned  from stromboli in 2003 i sincerely believed it would be possible to  set up trampoline and be on my way again after six months. three  years later this looks somewhat naive, but i’m glad i made the choice  and i doubt i’d have done so had i realised how long it would take,  so that original naivety was a blessing. the company’s at a point now  where i expect to be able to start spending a portion of my time  working remotely before long. but i’ll still be spending a lot of my  time in london for the next few years so it makes sense to sort out a  living environment in which i feel comfortable.

amongst the many odious aspects of house-hunting there’s been one  real pleasure. in the process of determining which areas i’d like to  live in i’ve spent hours cycling round unfamiliar areas of hackney,  islington highbury, haggerston and canonbury. this has given me a  much richer sense of where the mediaeval village centres were and of  the explosive waves of residential development during the second half  of the nineteenth century. a bicycle is a wonderful aid to  understanding a city’s development and topography.

: c :

London, Wanderer

p o n d s

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[ 17:00 saturday 24 june – middle bathing pond, hampstead heath, london ]

there are three of these ponds on hampstead heath, of which this one is my favourite. i dislike swimming pools so in the absence of the sea this place is a haven. the water is brownish from the peaty soil but it is clean. the pond is large enough never to feel crowded, even on a glorious day like today. one swims surrounded by willow trees and gigantic azure dragon-flies, accompanied by birdsong and the babble of happy voices. the centre of the heath is one of few places in london where the eternal rumble of traffic doesn’t penetrate. what bliss.

indeed the last three weeks in london have borne an uncanny resemblance to summer. every day i take breakfast and supper on the roof. the camelia and rhododendron have already flowered, the oleander and hydrangea are coming into bud now. i love sitting up there in an island of tranquility with the world flowing around me.

the biggest difference the serene weather makes is its impact on londoners themselves. instead of the usual grim and downturned faces the streets are filled with smiles and laughter. people walk differently, more meandering strolls and fewer purposeful strides. people are even less uptight about bantering with strangers. if london were like this for six months each year (heck, even for three solid months) it would not be such a bad place to live. but alas these days are all too fleeting and before we know it they will be gone.

Cornwall, In transit, Wanderer

k i t e s u r f e r s

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[ 15:14 monday 29 may – hayle towans, cornwall ]

the tide has receded further than i’ve ever seen. these must be some of the biggest spring tides of the year. the departing waters have left the huge expanse of white sand imprinted with a mysterious caligraphy of wrinkles and undulations.

attracted by today’s clear skies, two feet of surf and a steady force five the kite surfers are out in force. i can count twenty of them darting around, leaping high into the air and floating gracefully back down. they’d be easier to count if they’d stayed still.

the wind’s a bit chilly so i’m sheltering amongst  rocks at the base of the cliff. how good to be back here in cornwall where i grew up. good also to spend these days with anna and adam, who are packing up their home in hayle ready to move next weekend.

[ 22:03 tuesday 30 may – great western railway, hayle to london ]

four hours into the six hour journey. the sun set shortly before bristol in a golden blaze.

i feel a tug of emotion every time i pass over brunel’s saltash bridge, the iconic frontier between devon and cornwall. the nature of the emotion depends on my direction.

: c :

Stromboli, Wanderer

n u b e

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[ 02:15 friday 5 may – stromboli ]

i’m wedged between rocks about eight hundred metres up the volcano, on my own.  scrambling up the scree on hands and knees a few minutes ago i was suddenly engulfed in thick cloud. visibility is down to three metres. the wind whips and tugs from unpredictable directions. from time to time there’s the roar of an eruption, above me to the left, and the cloud glows orange. it’s cold. the rocks glisten with moisture. i feel completely alone.

as i write, the clouds open above me and the vast mantle of stars is unveiled, but i know the cloud may close around me again at any moment.

i was planning to go to the summit tonight but this is the first time i’ve come up alone and the cloud is scaring me. even in clear conditions it’s easy to lose your way up here and find yourself on the edge of a precipice.

03:33 / the last hour has been hard work. after writing the previous entry i agonised about whether to carry on upwards or give in. finally i couldn’t resist being so close to the top and started scrambling upward again. sure enough the cloud closed around me five minutes later, punishing me for my arrogance. since then i’ve been painstakingly picking my way down the mountainside, straining to pick out the path (such as it is). several times i’ve erred and had to retrace my steps some distance. i never imagined i’d feel such gratitude for the occasional splashes of white paint left behind by consciencious guides.

the cloud extended about six hundred metres down the mountain and i only emerged a moment ago. looking with gratitude at the starry sky i was rewarded with the second-brightest meteorite i’ve ever seen, streaking across the mountain leaving a brilliant fizzing trail behind it. i made one hell of a wish.

04:40 / back home, relieved, tired.

Stromboli, Wanderer

e r u z i o n i

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[ 00:31 wednesday 3 may – punta u brunzu, stromboli ]

this is one of my favourite places in the world, though i don’t think i’ve ever written from here before. i’m sitting cross-legged on the corner of the helipad at punta u brunzu, a hundred metres above the sea at the northernmost tip of the island.

walking along the mule track to get here there’s a powerful sense of leaving the settlement behind, entering the wilder presence of the mountain. from here you see no houses, no lights. humanity feels far away.

all around me the bamboo rustles in the warm breeze. above me the inky sky is splashed with a million stars and a few wisps of cloud. behind me the sea stretches mysterious to the dark horizon. nesting gulls grumble on the cliff below. and dominating the scene, in front of me, rises the triangular silhouette of the volcano with its scar of bright fire on the right side of the apex.

it doesn’t matter how many times i sit here watching it, i still feel the same sense of incredulity and awe i felt the very first time. tonight it’s more active than i’ve ever seen it before. one crater is in continuous eruption, emitting a pulsing fan of lava. two of the other craters follow a more typical pattern, blasting out a jet of lava a hundred metres high every ten or fifteen minutes.

during the two years i lived on stromboli i came up here every week or so. when michael died i lit a catholic funerary candle here on the corner of the helipad and sat with it through the night. all my hopes and fears have been brought here over the years. my eyes have seen a thousand shooting stars. here everything is in proportion.

i watch as the final tip of the crescent moon sinks reddish beneath the horizon.

: c :

In transit, Italy, Wanderer

t a r t a r u g a

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[ 16:33 thursday 28 april – eurostar 9363 to napoli ]

here we are forty-five minutes out of rome. the landscape grows craggier, more volcanic, whilst bamboo, olive and cactus gain prominence in the flora. thus the mezzogiorno, italy’s intoxicating south, announces its dominion. the rain which has followed us from milan eases and chinks of blue appear in the sky.

i spent last night with bobo and roberta in milan, the first time i’ve seen them in two years. they’re simultaneously finding success in the worlds of graffiti and fine art, with exhibitions around europe and some commercial commissions too. their new home is fantastic, a long narrow cellar divided into a series of spaces for living and working. every inch of the walls is covered with the warped faces and gnomic slogans that characterise their work.

bobo and i worked together ten years ago in the electric company, the chaotic media venture i formed when i came down from cambridge. i’ve always loved his style and admired his stubborness in persuing his own creative path. he’s been with roberta, a mini-volcano of ideas from the shadow of etna, for most of the time i’ve known him. it was a joy to catch up with them both.

earlier in the afternoon i met fabrizio and kiriku by the little lake in parco sempione. fabrizio suggested we should hunt for turtles. i was delighted to play along, assuming it was a make-believe game for kiriku’s benefit. my error was revealed a few minutes later when kiriku lunged at a rock and turned round proudly clutching a turtle; twenty-five centimetres long with scarlet stripes along the sides of its head. i couldn’t believe my eyes. fabrizio explained that a couple of pet turtles were released into the lake a few years ago and have established a thriving community. it all seemed very improbable, like finding orangutangs swinging from the trees in st james’ park.

kiriku was only a few months old when i first came to live in italy. now he’s a fearless six-year-old. indeed it’s almost three years since i last saw napoli, a city that fascinates and thrills me. i hope to meet pasquale for dinner then take the overnight ship to stromboli. this is a holiday weekend so the ship could be busy. if i can’t get a cabin i’ll have to sleep on the deck. a few years ago this prospect wouldn’t have bothered me in the least but now it provokes a mild sense of unease. living in london i see myself growing inflexible and domestic. the balance in my life needs to change.

: c :

Sandhurst, Wanderer

f o r m i k

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[ 20:05 friday 14 april – sandhurst, gloucestershire ]

here i am at mum and dad’s where i arrived last night. today we went walking in the malvern hills. soft air, trees bursting with bud, the sun warm against our faces. as i write mum’s in the kitchen preparing supper and dad’s taking advantage of the last moments of light to finish his labours in the garden.

last week i lost a friend, or rather several thousand of them, which was a sad experience. some months ago i acquired a magnificent bamboo tree for the office from plant-seller friends on brick lane. it’s fifteen feet tall and some of the stems are as thick as my arm. it looks just wonderful. shortly after the bamboo’s arrival we noticed a couple of ants crawling around the floor. a few days later a column turned up to harvest biscuit crumbs from jan’s table. it seemed we had some new residents and it didn’t take great deductive skills to link them with the enormous tub in which the bamboo was planted. since then the ants have been our constant companions in the office.

living on stromboli there were always ants around the house. in a way i came to appreciate their company. whether i was working, reading, cooking or whatever i’d be subliminally aware of where they were and what they were up to day by day. individually their behaviour is monotonous but collectively it’s incredibly varied. i remember one time on the terrace talking with gustl whilst a double column of ants tracked up and down a fig tree beside us. all at once the ants froze, every single one of them, and remained motionless as we watched in wonder. there had been no external trigger that we could discern but somehow the decision to stop moving had communicated itself instantaneously through the whole column. i rapped on the tree trunk but the ants remained completely still. then after several minutes they all tentatively wiggled their antennae and a few seconds later the entire column was back in motion.

when the ants appeared in the office i suppose i felt a kind of nostalgia to have this familiar presence in my environment once more. previously the office ecosystem was inhabited only by plants and humans. the ants added a rich and unpredictable element to the mix that secretly delighted me. each day they would be doing something different. sometimes a week or two passed without any trace of them. anyone leaving food in their workspace was liable to find ants crawling all over their computer and up their arms. i’m sorry to say my associates didn’t always share my appreciation of their presence.

it all continued in a sort of strained harmony until last week when the ants made the unfortunate decision to swarm. they had obviously been building up their forces, really i had no idea they’d become so numerous. our neighbours’ offices were crawling with them. the walls of the kitchen were a seething mass. the atrium was criss-crossed with ant-motorways. i can’t say it was popular with the other tenants. the man from rentokil arrived to deal with the general situation and it was made clear to me that i should really do something about the bamboo.

thus, with a heavy heart, i found myself pouring five litres of a potent liquid pesticide into the bamboo tub last friday evening after everyone else had gone home. i will miss my six-legged friends.

by way of conclusion, we’ve just taken possession of a powerful new production server and needed to think of a suitable name for it. therefore, unbeknownst to our clients, some of our hosted systems will henceforth be running on a machine called “formik”. i hope this gives lots of little ant-souls cause to smile. their memory liveth.

: c :

London, Photography, USA, Wanderer

w i r e d

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[ 02:19 monday 3 april – shipton street, london ]

a week ago wired magazine published a splendid article on trampoline by quinn norton, which you can read here.

the fortnight since i got back from california has been pretty intense. a lot of people are interested in trampoline. i’ve been zipping around giving presentations to bizarrely divergent audiences, from pinstriped venture capitalists to t-shirted hackers to tweed-suited earls.

meanwhile i’ve uploaded some of my photos from finland and california.

: c :