NORMAL LIFE: Asian Anti-Britishness

Just as much as the British dislike of Americans has become enhanced over the last few years, it seems we have a dislike within our very own borders which needs to be addressed as quickly as possible. Or should we even bother?! This blog entry might be controversial to some readers, but I would like to point out here and now that the purpose of this entry isn't to promote racism or to create divisions. If anything, I'm proud of the UK's internationally recognised reputation for being a relative harmonious multinational society.

That is why I got annoyed yesterday when I read an article about how 'Over a third British Asians don't feel British'. Why should they even feel British? More to the point, how can we even expect Asians born in Britain to feel British under the influence of non-British parents? I don't need to remind you that, in India especially, the caste system is still very much alive; women know their place, men are superior and parents still organise marriages. This is light years away from the norm of British life.

I am assuming that this poll was conducted in a way so as to minimise bias. To even measure WHY respondents should even feel British, they must have gone to school in England, they must have participated in after-school clubs with fellow pupils from different backgrounds every now and then, perhaps enjoyed a spell of university life and gone on to undertake meaningful employment. In the meantime, they must have read a reasonable amount of British newspapers and, from time to time, watched some good old British telly! If more than a third STILL feel un-British, then we have to ask ourselves who is to blame? When I was at school, I was one of very few white kids in some of my classes and, from memory, I can say that teachers treated us equally. I can't help but feel that Asian home life just isn't aligned to the day-to-day life of that in Britain.

Let me use an example. This is an extreme one, but one which I thing will serve the purpose. South Africa had a long period of racial conflict, which came to a head with the ending of apartheid in the early 90s. The ending of apartheid was meant to herald the start of a more equal society. Instead, the natives have literally regained control of the country in every sense of the word and, since then, the country has been slowly disintegrating. It may be at peace, but public services have gone to pot and crime has gone through the roof. The same can be said for Zimbabwe. The point I am trying to make is that the ending of apartheid in South Africa was the right thing to do - Africa'belongs' to the black people and, conversely, England 'belongs' to the white people.

Taking a 21st Century approach to the claim I just made, globalisation has taken hold. The multicultural society of modern day England is perhaps the greatest legacy of the Empire; we have all proven that we can live alongside eachother in a relatively harmonious manner compared to other attempts at multiculturalism, but there's still work to be done. Nearly half of Asians feel that they aren't treated as British. Is this any surprise when nearly every suicide, bus or train bomber is portrayed to be of Asian origin? I went to school with Asian children and, unusually, I had more black and Asian friends than white friends.

What was laughable was that half of Asians felt that it's too easy for immigrants to settle in Britan. Isn't this a bit of a contradiction? If immigrants - no different from the parents of most of today's young Asians living in the UK - can 'settle' easily, isn't that a good thing? Surely with that bit done, all that remains is adaption in order to truly mingle with the locals.

When I read that 'only half feel that Britain offers more opportunity than South Asian countries', it was starting to show that these Asians clearly don't know what living in Asia is actually like. Nor do I for that matter, but in some Indian cities, cows and rickshaws still dominate the roads while, in China, human rights are virtually non-existent and pollution is so bad in the major cities. And when it comes to opportunities, I can relate to them. How can I possibly relate to them? Well, let me tell you a story.

When I returned to the UK for a brief spell with the intent on leaving Finland for good, I returned as an unemployed citizen on the dole. Two hundred job applications later, I had only been to three job interviews. Anybody who has read my CV will see that my work experience is somewhat superior to other applicants my age. The attitude I was getting was: you only worked in Finland. It's hardly Tokyo or Washington, is it? I mean, the number of times I had to point to a map to show prospective employers and agencies WHERE Finland actually is! This, combined with the filling in of job applications where I was asked to declare my sexuality, religion, skin colour, disabilities etc. I couldn't help but feel I had no chance in getting a job. My homosexuality combined with the use of a cochlear implant to aid my hearing would put me among the same ranks as an immigrant applying for a job, surely? My sister once joked: it's a good thing you're not black! Unfortunately, that's the way the 'system' works in the UK. The concept of asking someone their sexual orientation in return for a salary is ludicrous!

A third of Asians believe that you need to be a "coconut" (white on the inside) to get on in Britain. This is so not true and now I'm starting to sense the lack of self esteem instilled into those who responded to this survey. Asians are no different to Caucasians nor black people: it's up to each individual to develop him or herself, to network and 'create' opportunities. Just look at how many Asian doctors, dentists, lawyers and other highly regarded professions there are in the UK. Nothing comes to anybody on a plate. To further illustrate my point, I worked for more than fifteen companies in the UK before I moved to Finland and only two of my superior were white.

The dilution of cultures works both ways. Just as three-quarters of Asians feel their culture is diluted by living in Britain, I have sensed a dramatic change in our very own culture withn my first thirty years. The concept of Britishness that the world outside of the UK so lovingly clings onto is no longer in existence. I feel the British have sacrificed more than the Asian's have - by living in the UK, there is security, equality and opportunity if you're willing to earn them. Nothing is bestowed automatically. The most pleasing result from the poll was that 85% are satisified with life in the UK. I'm pleased for you, because I weren't! It looks like life for Asian's ain't so bad after all!

NORMAL LIFE: It's All North - In Search Of The Midnight Sun!

It has been claimed that a picture says a thousand words. If that's the case, then here are several thousand. Minimal text will accompany this post so as to let the photos speak for themselves. After all, it's all north innit?

Bree and I made our way up to the very north of Finland, passing some eye-catching scenes: the famous glass works at Iittala, seeing a herd of cows in the lake as we passed Nokia, eating pre-cooked meat steaks and pancakes with jam at a layby near Ikaalinen, the mass of traditional windmills and wooden buildings in fields of oil seed rape at Jalasjärvi, the huge Altia distillery at Koskenkorva. We cruised through the historic city of Vaasa, before heading further north to the famous stretch of sandy beach at Hiekkasärkät, something like a Finnish version of Italy's Rimini.

We stay at the Sokos Hotel in Oulu (pop. 130,000), 612km from Helsinki. After a rather pathetic turnout of just ten guys at Oulu's only gay bar, Becksu, we called it an early night. After breakfast the next morning, we did a walking tour of Oulu's City Centre.

The drive continues, heading further north through the northernmost reaches of Finland, seemingly full of barren nothingness. We stop briefly at Rovaniemi to catch up with Bree's friend, Inkeri. Bear in mind that we are still in Finland and, 592kms after leaving Oulu, we pull into the parking lot of Hotel Kilpis in Kilpisjärvi, the village which sits at the intersection of Finland's borders with Sweden and Norway.

The next day, we enter Norway via the E8, which will take us all the way to Tromsø (pop. 65,000), Northern Norway's largest city. Before approaching the city of Tromsø, however, we stopped to grill the sausages we had bought earlier.

After arriving in Tromsø, we quickly located a hotel and took a nap. Around 7pm, we went for a walk around the small town; most of the stores were closed yet toursits anxiously darted to an fro, capturing pictures of the city's wharves and picturesque wooden buildings which would be a regular feature in Norway.

Retail confusion surfaces with the offering of unclothed models at -50%! Perhaps the promotion was so well received that there was nothing left to sell!!

The next day, we head towards Breidvikeidet along Route 91. With just 45 minutes until the ferry left, we were speeding through a deep valley, the peaks of which still bore spots of snow.

During the 30 minute ferry ride, a trip to the little boy's room tell me to follow these instructions. What does it mean?

We disembark at Svensbu and, minutes later, we are afforded this amazing view of the western leg of Ullsfjord.

Moments after leaving the above scene, an awful case of Hay Fever would render my eyes puffy and painful for the rest of our trip. Fortunately, however, an arduous trek through the Steindal would serve as a distraction.

Rapid rivers gave way to the gentle meandering flows of the melted ice of the resident glacier while dense insect-infested forest gave way to fields with flocks of sheep.

Two hours later, we arrive at the base of Steindal Glacier which, accordingly to markers, has been retreating rapidly since the 1990s. The chill of the air and the retreating ice would leave an indelible mark on us for this was a significant indicator of global warming at work.

Several hours later, and back in the car, we commenced with our drive along the E6. Around about 8pm, we arrived at an ornate fishing village. It may have looked rather quaint, but it's prices were rather shocking. When I first enquired at the Reisafjord Hotel, the receptionist said she could provide a double room for NOK 1890.

The girl looked so plain, so innocent. So, why was she ripping me off? I asked if that were the cheapest option and, without checking from a computer or any other source, she said she could accommodate us for NOK 890, a reduction of NOK 400 (~€52).

Our view from the room was wonderful: a little marina full of fishing trawlers, with countless peaks in the distance.

After a dinner of burgers washed down with Coca Cola, we went for a walk around the marina. I could feel the tiredness in my legs from the earlier walk to the glacier and it was then that it dawned upon me just how much we had already seen and done on this trip. Suddenly, a black dog emerged from out of the fjord and proceeded to shake the water off it's coat, showering us. We giggled.

Morning came and it was amusing to hear Bree's dream: he had left his mother way back Kilpisjärvi (if only, I thought!) by mistake. After breakfast, we checked out. I knew we should have done a runner - we were charged a whopping €173 for the night, of which €40 was for two hamburgers and french fries!

Our destination for today: Hammerfest, a good few hundred kilometres away. As we continued with our drive, we passed some wonderful views of islands dotting the fjords. Man-made snow-stoppers nestled on top of the peaks, their aim to prevent snow drifts in the no doubt heavy winters.

Before reaching the town of Alta, we visited the Tirpitz Museum, which tells the story of the 20,000 German troops station there during World War II.

Named after one of the largest and most powerful battleships, the story goes that a British mini-submarine team infiltated the fjord, attacking the Tirpitz, causing her to leave the area. The battleship's exposure led to the downfall of the German regime and, leaving the museum, you had to ask yourself: why didn't Hitler just stop, harnessing what he had amassed instead of further diluting the military?

A bit further along the road (still the E6, believe it or not!), we reach the town of Alta, home to 18,000 people. Number one tourist attraction: the unimaginatively named Alta Museum. The UNSECO accredited museum boasts Northern Europe's largest prehistoric art area with carvings between 2,500-6,500 years old. Verdit: Not my kind of thing!

After the visit to the museum, I was left with even more questions that I arrived with. Questions along the lines of: How did they get UNESCO to endorse that pile of crap? It was all a load of old bollocks really - at one point, I stood afore an area of grass where, according to the information, once stood a settlement. I tried and tried and I just couldn't see even the outlines of any settlements.

As we left Alta, the search was on to see if there was a ferry that could transport us to Hammerfest. Apparently, there were no car ferries so back onto the E6 once again. The landscape became very tundra-like with greens turning brown and the ever-increasing presence of element-exposed rock; wild rivers gave way to calmer streams followed by nothing but endless road, kind of like a Route 66 for the Arctic.

We arrived at Hammerfest, the world's northernmost town and home to 9,360, just after 6pm. It was a surprisingly small-looking town and, after 30 minutes of searching, we checked into Rica Hotel. They could do us a cheap deal (still not that cheap at NOK 852) by providing a second mattress on the floor in a room meant for single occupation. I'll take it, I said. With a heater roasting the room and the mattress taking the remainder of the floor space, it was actually quite cosy. Tired from the drive, we napped for an hour and, later, went for a walk into town.

We dined at what was perhaps the northernmost Chinese restaurant in Europe; it was lovely. Spring rolls and soup, followed by Sweet & Sour Chicken, Peking Duck and rice. With one beer and a coca cola, the meal came to a hefty €85.

On our way home, we took the Zig-Zag Walk, up to a high point overlooking the city. Bitterly cold wings accompanied a sky of clear blue. We saw Näjä Island in the distance, the small, but handsome town below and, in the distance, the offshore island works of Statoil.

On the shoreline, they were building man-made piers upon which new apartment buildings we being constructed in front of the old, traditional wooden houses. Bizarre! Before heading back to the hotel, we saw the fountain in Hammerfest town square (a gift from a former US Ambassador to Norway whose mother was from Hammerfest), the Music Pavilion (which marks the city's 200 anniversary in 1989) and a silver statue of a Polar Bear. Back at the apartment, we ate some left over cake with coffee and liquer and hit the sack just before midnight.

After breakfast the next morning, we walked, on foot, to the nearby Hammerfest Church, consecrated in 1961. Bearing no altarpiece, but spectacular stained glass, the modern-styled white-wood church is certainly worth a visit. In town, we bought some souvenirs to prove that we had indeed visited this northern outpost.

By car, and one our way to the fishing village of Forsøl, we visited the Fortification at Fuglenes, which was constructed during the Napoleonic War in 1810. At one point, it was used in an attacked against the British. The fort, a rather small one complete with canons facing out towards the Arctic Ocean, was restored in 1989.

As we made our way back to the car, we encountered some very ignorant reindeers who were grazing on some nearby grass. You could get quite close to them actually, indicating that man and animal had a close relationship this far in the north.

We drove the 9km distance to Forsøl, said to be a 'dinstinctive little fishing village'. When we arrived, it appeared deserted, although it has a large reindeer population lazing in the pasture. When we reached the end of the road, there was a car park which had a trail heading north. No strangers to long walks, we decided to see what was out there.

After a ten minute walk on the flat, we reached what could only be described as a beach on the Arctic Sea; the water was clear, most likely among the cleanest water in Europe. Bree went to touch the water and, not suprisingly, it was bitingly cold. "Not going in then?", I asked. "No way!" was his immediate response.

We made our back to the car and, as we left Forsøl, took photos of the fish-drying stations (which are made into a local delicacy, apparently) and one of the many fish-farms.

Back in Hammerfest, the reindeer we had seen earlier were on a rampage, seeking new pastures in the heart of town.

We stopped at the small village of Skaidi for coffee, before continuing on our journey along the E6 towards Olderfjord. From there, we took the E69 - we had entered a zone of such isolation, with the occasional appearance of a cabin seeming to serve no immediate purpose.

As we sped along the Porsangenfjord, we eventually came to a number of impressively long tunnels which would make our progress across the hilly terrain a little easier. First, there was Skarveg Tunnel (2,980m) followed by it's shorter successor, Sortvik Tunnel (496m).

After an hour of meandering around the well-maintained northern shore, we finally reached the town of Kåfjord; here, we approached a toll booth, the first of it's kind (surprisingly!) since arriving in Norway. Apparently, to get to Nordkapp, we needed to pay a hefty NOK 192 (€25) toll. We weren't likely to turn back and, like governments with loyal citizens who like to smoke, they had got us where they wanted us!

We paid the toll and I was impressed for what lay across the ocean was the island where Nordkapp, the most northernmost point in Europe, awaited us. We entered the 6,870m Nordkapp Tunnel; Bree didn't like it for there was a sudden dive into the Earth's crust and, in effect, we were driving underneath the Artic Ocean for what felt like forever. Ahead, you could see how deep the tunnel was. At the halfway point, the rise back up to land was even more daunting. How do the cyclists manage this stretch to Nordkapp? we both thought.

When we emerged from the darkness of the tunnel, the bright light blinded us. I made some calls ahead for accommodation and was pleased to hear that the Rica Hotel could accommodate us for NOK 990 (€128). I made the booking and we proceeded towards Nordkapp. About thirty minutes later, shrowded in mist, we slowly approached what resembled another toll-booth. They asked us for NOK 195 per person, but I explained that we were looking for our hotel. Apparently, we had come too far. In fact, eight kilometres too far!

We drove back along the isolated terrain where reindeers ran gracefully in herds and foreign tourists passed us in the opposite direction. We eventually found the hotel, checked in and napped for an hour before tucking into a dinner buffet. Normally, buffets are the cheapest eating option for travellers, but a buffet for two cost €77! We drove to a recommended car park, from where you could undertake an 18km round-trek to the 'real' northernmost point in Europe, Knivskjelodden (71°11'08").

We started the walk at 8.30pm, our bellies full of fine food. Most of the walk was quite pleasant, the terrain moor-like. We followed the markers dotted here and there in the distance with fellow trekkers making their way back in the opposite direction. We descended the last kilometre to the shoreline at the bottom of a valley, where the Nordkapp Plateau towered in the distance to the east. As we looked far out, all you could see was ocean. The bitterly cold Artic Sea.

Walking back to base was a different story altogether - it was arduous and sweaty. As we neared the car park where our car awaited us, the sun had dipped below the cloud layer, granting us a view of the Midnight Sun whilst gracing the land with its glow. By this time, it was 10.30pm.

We got back to the car park just after 11pm and decided that we would, after all, head towards Nordkapp . It turned out to be the best thing we ever did. The girl at the toll booth granted us 24-hour tickets at the student rate. We parked up, dashed for the main building and it's observation platform beyond. We were lucky. The sun sat there, on a blanket of cloud just as the clock struck Midnight. There was applause, the place teeming with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of tourists. The wind was bitterly cold, howling furiously.

The bitter wind took its toll, my hands no longer able to take photographs due to the numbing of my fingers. We retreated into the modern main building, and headed towards the surprisingly empty cafe. We ordered coffees and sat near the window, amazed at how many tourists were zooming back and forth this late at night in a climate of such coolness. It had been a long day, that's for sure, but we agreed that we would come back in the morning to enjoy the other facilities on offer. With a cup of warm coffee in our bellies, we headed back to the hotel and to bed.

Fortunately, breakfast was included in the room rate and, after breakfast, we headed back to Nordkapp. There, we did some souvenir shopping, wrote and sent our postcards, saw the Children of the Earth monument and watched an impressive 125° wide-screen supervideograph featuring a movie about life at Europe's northernmost point during the four seasons. The Children of the Earth monument was created in 1989 by seven children from different parts of the world to symbolise cooperation, friendship, hope and joy across all borders.

Nordkapp had certainly been the highlight of the visit and, as we drove away, part of me wanted to stay a little bit longer. However, it was true that there was still alot more of Norway to see. And so the drive continued. Paying the toll fee once again, we rejoined the mainland at Kåfjord and headed south along the E69 to Olderfjord. From there, we rejoined the E6 and headed further south towards the town of Porsanger.

As we approached, I read through one of the guides about what Porsanger had to offer. Apparently, there were some 'beautiful white dolomite formations' with a story behind them which visitors were recommended to see.

According to an old Sami saga, Trollholmsund represents a group of trolls that wandered across the Finnmark plains. They tried to dig a hole in the mountain in Porsanger, but no hole was big enough. They continued walking and were going to cross the fjord, but before they could hide, the sun came up and the trolls turned into stone.

We took the marked trail from the car, passing death-still waters reflecting the land.

A bit further on, we indeed caught up with the trolls which had turned to stone.

After a brief stop to admire the trolls set amidst the deep blue sea of the Arctic and beneath an even more inviting blue sky, it was time to move on. Admittedly, I was starting to run out of inspiration for nothing in the guide books indicated that there were any must-see's as we headed further East.

The plan was to go as far East as one could towards the Russian border at Kirkenes. Two hours later, however, as we reached the town of Tana, just fifty kilometres from the Finnish border, I was tempted to 'go home'. It had been lovely, but it's exhausting to be on the move all the time, continuously seeking new attractions in the very isolated North-West of Norway. In the town of Tana, we stopped at a grill for burgers and agreed that we would go home.

Driving along the River Tana, we saw fly fishers knee-deep in the river trying their best at fishing. Further on, as we skirted along Norway's border with Finland, we saw pretty much the same along the Finnish River Teno, famous for it's plentiful salmon. We finally entered Finland at Utsjoki, the road signs suddenly changing to the oh-so-complicated - but no more confusing than Norwegian - Finnish language.

We headed south along Route E4, eyes peeled for dumb reindeer with a penchant for suddenly darting onto the road for no apparent reason. Just before midnight, the sky still bearing the brightness of the Northern Summer, we pulled into the car park of a hotel in Ivalo. At a friendly overnight price of €80, we checked in, partaking in a Bacardi & Coke as we rested on the double bed. I made an announcement: now that we were back in Finland and one holiday was about to come to an end, another one was coming. Bree looked at me with suspicion. When I told him that we would be going to Rome for four days the following week, he was delighted! I warned him that's going to be very hot (~34C) and he laughed; After spending a week in Norway with temperatures averaging ~12C, a bit of heat was in order, don't you think?!

We slept soundly for we were home. Even though we had never stayed at this hotel before, it felt familiar. It felt like home.

We woke up just before 10am the next morning. I was groggy, the tiredness of the travelling catching up on me. After a breakfast of porridge, and ham and cheese with bread, we were on the road once again, this time bound for Rovaniemi; Bree had promised to catch up with Inkeri on our way back to Helsinki. On the way, we visited the lookout point at Saariselkä, later stopping at a small, but well-known northern town named Sodankylä (Translation: war village) for coffee and sweet buns.

When we arrived in Rovaniemi, familiarity set in. We agreed to meet Inkeri at an ice cream parlour on the banks of the River Ounas. It was a sunny day and in the mid-20C's, quite a surprising temperature this far north. As we waited for Inkeri and her partner, we bathed on the banks, taking a brief nap in the afternoon sun. How we would get back to Helsinki the same day I had no idea, but what the hell if we spent the night in Rovaniemi, I said to myself.

Inkeri arrived and we were invited back to her place her fresh strawberries, ice cream and coffee. Yummy! Before long, it was 7pm and decision time: do we hit the road for the eight-hour drive to Helsinki or do we stay overnight in Rovaniemi? Bree wanted to go home so we hit the road for what was going to be a very long night.

On Route 4, we passed major towns such as Kemi, Oulu, Pyhäjärvi, Viitasaari, Äänekoski, Jyväskylä, Heinola and Lahti. During the 840km drive, I dozed, waking up now and then to ask if Bree was okay. At one point, we stopped for ultra-hot coffee and was somewhat taken aback by the total darkness that now shrouded the land for, just days earlier, we had been in a land of perpetual sun. I dozed some more and the next time I woke up, it was 3am and the sun was rising in Southern Finland. Places became familiar and, just after 4am, we had reached the outskirts of our home, Helsinki.

As we made our way through the deserted city, we saw drunken individuals making their way home, a stark reminder of one of Finland's national pastimes. It was 4am on a Sunday morning and when we pulled into our street, relief overcame me for I needed to pee so bad! There is nothing better than peeing in your own toilet and sleeping in your own bed, with your beloved sleeping soundly and clutching your hand as you spoon together in bed. What a holiday!