NORMAL LIFE: Who Needs English?

NORMAL LIFE: The South African Adventure!

Nearly three months since the trip to South Africa, I have managed to document this fantastic trip with a monumental 16,000+ words and a fantastic selection of photos! If you can't be bothered to read, get some holiday inspiration by enjoying the photos:

The First Leg (Dec 14 - Dec 21)

Highlights include: Victoria & Albert Waterfront, visit to Robben Island, the Wineyard drive, Cape of Good Hope, Bays & Beaches of the Cape Peninsula, Langebaan, Bloubergstrand, Table Mountain, Chapmans Peak drive, Castle of Good Hope, the Penguins at Boulders.

The Second Leg (Part One, Dec 22 - Dec 26)

Highlights include: Reunion with old friends, Sun City, Pilanesburg, Pretoria, Christmas with friends, Randberg Lion Park, Kruger National Park and the wildlife

South Africa, The Second Leg (Part Two, Dec 27 - Jan 1)

Highlights include: the wildlife of Kruger National Park, overnight at Pilgrim's Rest, Pretoria and the long flight home.

NORMAL LIFE: The Two Executives Spouting Hot Air

Yesterday morning, Finland woke up to 10-15 cm of snow nationwide; the long-awaited winter finally arrived three months late, granting passionate skiiers and ice-skaters with the perfect weather conditions to undertake their beloved pastimes. The night before, apparently, the night had howled, smothering the land with air of sub-zero proportions.

Today, in the office, it's exactly the opposite what with the arrival to two very senior members of the management team. Yesterday saw the site's long-serving resident General Manager step down. The timely arrival of two senior executives from the States did nothing but spark countless rumours which, fortunately, I didn't need to participate in since I only returned to the office this morning.

I opened my email first thing to find an invitation for a meeting at 11am with the two executives; my team of fifteen or so colleagues assembled in the meeting room and, as expected, we were informed that our segment in the organisation would continue to remain unfunded while the firm continuies to decide which strategic path to follow. This has been their approach since I joined the firm nearly two years ago!

The last two years have seen our competitors gain significant marketing share because of upper management's inability to commit to anything substantial. On the 'promise' of $1-2 million dollars to play with sometime this year, I interrupted: "I have heard alot of verbs and adjectives today, but nothing concrete that I can takeaway with me!". At this, one of the executives reacted defensively, asking what do I want to which I retorted: "No more promises, for a start!"

Given that I am not a manager nor do I have any staff responsibility, I sometimes feel that I could be in such a position 5-10 years from now. You see, procrastination serves no-one and in you need to speculate in order to accumulate; you would think Americans would know this better than anyone given the wealth they have accumulated. Then again, wealth can make you dumb.

Over the lunch table, I was criticised by my colleagues for being so outspoken. Diplomacy isn't my strong point, I admit, but contstructive objectivity never hurt anyone, did it? Let's not take this crap lying down, I'm thinking to myself. I'm still convinced that the firm is just buying time, and that they are going to shut us down! By then, it will be too late to voice your concerns, folks!

NORMAL LIFE: My Photographic Grade

Just last night, I returned from a ten day trip which saw brief visits to London, Chester, Manchester, Liverpool and Lisbon. I have yet to document this fantastic, but exhausting multi-site break, but in the meantime, I am proud to share some exciting news.

Last Autumn, I took the plunge and did a ten week Digital Photograpy course with the UK's Open University. Yesterday, not having heard anything since submitting a panel of what I believed to be my ten best photographs, I logged into my online space with the Open University where, thankfully, my grades were waiting for me.

In respect of my Visual Awareness and Technical Quality, I was awarded EXCELLENT grades. For the written component, I was granted a WELL ACHIEVED grade. Although I have always been confident in my photographic abilities, it's relieving to have your beliefs confirmed by a panel of professionals. Since the course, I have set up Ecliptic Images so be sure to check it out sometime!

As at the end of all courses, the question is now: where do I go from here? Does anybody know of any photographic courses that can be done alongside full-time employment?

NORMAL LIFE: Alan & Lisbon

Sunday, 16th March

I had flown from Helsinki to Manchester the previous Friday, spent one night out with Fred, before heading down south to spend one night with family. Then, on the Sunday, I attended the disappointing Australia Needs Skills Expo at Australia House in the Strand with Nick before heading towards Heathrow, bound for Lisbon. What a weekend!

I took a British Airways flight with a wacky airhostess originating from Spain and a camp, but oh-so-polite air-steward in his forties. Together, they were very entertaining, bouncing jokes off eachother and amusing me endlessly. As such, the flight went very quickly and, after my arrival, I patiently waited in the taxi queue to be whisked away to the city of Lisbon.

Ten minutes away from Hotel Turim, to call Alan to let him know that I would be arriving shortly. Alan tells me that he has been feeling poorly and had spent the day seeing some of the city whilst dosing up with medicine. Not to worry, I said, we can take it easy.

Within an hour of arriving, however, having unpacked, showered and poured a Bacardi and coke from my own private stash, we were out and about in the deserted City centre. Our hotel, located near Marquês de Pombal, was a twenty minute walk from a handful of gay bars which constitute the bulk of Lisbon's gay scene.

For starters, we tried Bar 106 in Rua de São Marçal, a small establishment which, at first, we didn't even see. To get inside, you need to push a doorbell of what looks like a very normal entrance to someone's home. Inside, Alan and I were given a sticky number, a tag that would enable people to leave messages for us at a designated point in the middle of the room from where recipients could collect messages bearing their number.

When we arrived, there were perhaps six or seven other customers so we got some drinks and bided our time. Hunger set in so we went to the nearby Frei Contente, a restaurant which offered countless appetising tapas choices. The menu was in Portugese, but the waiter kindly guided our decisionmaking. We eventually settled for tuna salad, tomato and mozarella salad and sparkling wine - a bargain at just €24!

Our hunger now satisfied, we returned to Bar 106 which, by now, was considerably busier. Neither Alan nor I received any messages, but we did get chatting to a rather flambouyant guy in his fifties hailing from Manchester, who was with his boyfriend from Spain. The four of us drank together, but it was when #111 made an appearance that the chatter truly started: tall, dark and moody with absolutely massive hands, I relented and posted a message for fun! #111 didn't reply, but I somehow detected that he knew it was me because he sat down nearby as if waiting for me to make the first move.

About 1.30am, we moved onto Finalmente, a tiny, one-room club measuring approximately fifty square metres. As the club slowly filled up on this Sunday night, we were whisked away on a time warp to songs such as The Rivers of Babylon by Boney M. We wanted to check out one bar nearby called the Bric-A-Bar on Rua Cecilio Sousa so, leaving Finalmente and climbing the steep hill in our semi-drunkeness, we were surprised to find the bar to be empty except for the barman and the doorman! We are just closing, the barman explain, so we rushed back to Finalmente, where they let us back in for free!

Shortly after our return to the now-packed, smallest club I have ever seen, a drag show started up. I personally am not a fan of drag, but there were some very impressive performances, including a disco version of Christine Aguilera's hit, Hurt, followed by This Is The Moment sang by a lone boy. We left Finalmente at 3.30pm, the loud music having rendered our ears absolutely numb. Having navigated the hill of Real District rather successfully, we stumbled into bed after 4am!

Monday, 17th March

We woke up just intime to catch the last mintues of the breakfast. Feeling somewhat dehydrated, I gulped down countless glasses of juice together with ham, cheese, breads, sweet buns, yoghurt and fruit. Having got prepared for the day, we took the blue line on the metro from Marcquês do Pombal to Baixa-Chiado, then switched to the green line to Cais do Sodré. From there, we took the bus to Belem.

Fifteen mintues later, we alighted from the bus to find ourselves right outside the impression Jeronimos Monastery, a world heritage monument. King Manuel I built it in 1502 on the site of a hermitage founded by Prince Henry the Navigator, where Vasco da Gama (the discoverer of Las Agulhas in South Africa) and his crew spent their last night in Portugal in prayer before leaving for India.

We walked along the front of the monastery which, on this Monday, happened to be closed. The architecture, Manueline in style, was impressive with carvings of rope, sea monsters, coral, and other sea motifs evocative of that time of world exploration at sea.Having ambled along the gardens in front of the monastery, we came to the Discoveries Monument, comemorating the 500th anniversary of the death of Prince Henry the Navigator. Representing a three-sailed ship ready to depart, sculptures of important historical figures such as King Manuel I, poet Camões, fellow discoverer Vasco da Gama and several other notable Portuguese explorers, crusaders, monks and cartographers following Prince Henry the Navigator at the bow holding a small vessel. Queen Phillipa of Lancaster, the English-born mother of Henry the navigator, is the only female to feature on the Monument.

Enterting the Discoveries Monument, we paid the nominal fee to ascend to the top of the monument by way of the lift, granting us a bird's-eye view of Belem and its monuments. Compared to the weather back home, Lisbon was fantastic. I need to be careful, however, because, within minutes, I could feel the 18C heat on my bald head!

Back on terra firma, we wandered along the promenade until we reached another World Heritage Monument, the Belem Tower. Built in 1515 as a fortress to guard the entrance to Lisbon's harbour, the Belem Tower was the starting point for many of the voyages of discovery, and for the sailors it was usually the last sight of their homeland. Ultimately, it serves as a monument to Portugal's Age of Discovery. UNESCO granted World Heritage status to the Tower because: "It is a reminder of the great maritime discoveries that laid the foundations of the modern world." It was kind of ironic, as we made our way from the tower, that Alan indicated that we might actually tan if the weather continues like this because, within minutes, the sky turned overcast and a cool wind arrived on the scene. After a lunch of fried potatoes with onions, the rain arrived, but fortunately it was local and didn't last for long.

Tired from the previous night, we took a bus back into town where, in a light rain, Alan showed me around the sights he had seen the previous day, including the towering Eiffel-tower like 45m-high Santa Justa Elevator.

It was as we walked to the nearby Rossio Square when it started to rain. Nearby, were countless cafe's so it was time to take a break. After we finally worked out the purchasing system - order your food, take a receipt to cashier, pay the cashier, then 'claim' your purchase - we ate coffee with custard tarts. Splendid!

We took the metro back to Marcquês do Pombal, exiting in front of Parque Eduardo VII, named after the British monarch who visited the city in 1903 to reaffirm the Anglo-Portuguese alliance. It just happens to be the largest park in Lisbon.

Dodging the heavy rainful, we arrived back at the hotel. Before settling down for a nap, I looked out at the grey sky outside only to notice a very traditional - if somewhat dirty - balcony across the road. Behind the balcony stood a glass office building, providing a very strange contrast.

We slept for three hours, waking up at 6pm. We decided to check out the stores, shopping at C&A and a huge department store not far from Parque metro station, where I bought, among other things, two shirts for €30 - bargain!

Back at the hotel, we played music and drank Bacardi with energy drink, before heading out at 10:30. Our first port of call was Bar Max (Rua de São Marçal 15) where, to our annoyance, another messaging party was just starting up (Alan was #9, I was #10)! It was at Max that we met Glover, the barman, who face hair was smartly trimmed. Alan took quite a shine to him, leaving messages for him and vice versa.

The crowd grew to some 20-30 people, but nobody came to talk to us. Alan started 'rhubarbing' e.g. pretending to have a conversation by blah-blah-blah-ing which had me in fits of laughter. Alan had received a message from the barman, "You are the sexy one!", which I could have taken offence at, but which I found quite amusing. By now, I was getting drunk and, for fun, I tore up a piece of paper into two small pieces, licked each piece and attached them to my eyes so that when I fluttered my eyelashes, long white bits of paper fluttered! You just had to be there, I suppose!

Around 2pm, we left for Finalmente, the same nightclub we had visited the night before. On the dancefloor, guys grabbed at crotches, the hot blooded mediteraneans knowing no shame! As the previous night, the drag show was good, but this time there was a Debut Ball where competitive transvetites (one of them resembling the smiling Bree Van De Kamp from TV's Desperate Housewives) fought it out for the night's title. Very entertaining, some of the impersonations being Cher's Strong Enough, and Madonna's Hung Up.

Later that evening, a drag queen asked if I was married. Grabbing Alan's hand and looking at him yearningly, I looked back at at the hag in dress as if to indicate that I was spoken for! If Alan hadn't been there, I would have done a runner! It was 5am before we got into bed that night, having huffed and puffed our way up the hill to the main street.

Tuesday, 18th March

After breakfast, we took the metro from Parque to Sete Rios, from where we would take the train to the small town of Sintra. During the metro journey, a blind beggar ambled his way from train to train, a cup in hand, seeking donations in ernest. What a sight! When we arrived at Sete Rios, we bought tickets to Sintra with fifteen minutes to spare so we grabbed a coffee and cake. My black coffee turned out to be a miniscule espresso which, after one long sip, was all gone! I have never understood espresso.

During the thirty minute train journey to Sintra, I noticed the Old Aquaduct, built in 1746 to bring the city its first clean drinking water. Made up of 109 stone arches and running a total length is 58km (36 miles), it amazingly survived the 1755 earthquake which devestated much of Lisbon. Long after the aquaduct passed by, we passed what can only be described as slums, masses of delapidated buildings. A bit further on, we saw stray dogs, together with groups of idle unemployed people congregating on railway station platforms, which bore endless graffiti.

We arrived at Sintra just before 1pm, the end of the line. It was 19C and sunny, a welcome change from the cool of Helsinki. We walked through the historic centre of the town, marvelling at the architecture before starting the trek that would take us through winding roads up to the Moorish Castle and the fairytale Palace of Pena.

We must have walked for about two hours before we reached the entrance to the Moorish Castle. Our research had been a bit rough and we had had no idea that there was even a Moorish Castle here so, having made the effort to walk all that way, we paid the €5 entry fee and admired the vantage points of Portugal below.

Named by the Romans ("Cynthia") after the goddess of the moon, the Hills of Sintra were granted World Heritage Status back in 1995. The castle was built between the 9th and 10th centuries and it stood in an area considered by the Arabs to have been richly cultivated. In 1147, the castle surrendered to the Christians without resistance.

In the 15th Century, the castle fell into disrepair after the population moved down into the immaculately set out Old Town. In the 16th Century, the castle lost all military relevance and was abandoned by its last inhabitants, the Sintra Jews. In 1830, King ferdinand II started a profound renovation of the castle - the walls and the towers were rebuilt and the end result was a perfect introduction to the period of romanticism.

We clambered up the hundreds of steps to each of the towers, each one offering fantastic views of Sintra and the nearby countryside. Even higher still stood the Palace of Pena, our next stop. As we left the castle, however, we were charmed by a young kitten who was putting on a show for tourists as they left the premises.

The Palace of Pena looked like it might be another half an hour or so trek away, but a brisk five minute walk up a steep incline preceeded our arrival. Parting with the entry fee, we waited for a bus to take us the rest of way to the base of the fairytale palace.

When we arrived, we walked through the entrance which bore the coat of arms of D. Fernando II of Portugal and Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, a first cousin of the United Kingdom's Queen Victoria. The palace is the oldest palace in the style of European Romanticism and, on a clear day, you can see Lisbon and much of its metropolitan area. The palace's history started in the Middle Ages with the stablishment of a chapel. In 1493, King John II and Queen Leonor made a pilgrimage to the site to fulfil a vow. Their successor, King Manuel I, ordered for the construction of a monastery on the site, with Pena becoming a small, quiet place for meditiation, housing a maximum of eighteen monks.

The earthquake of 1755 reduced the monastery to ruins. As King Consort, Ferdinand II, acquired the site and land and set about its redevelopment. Together with Queen Maria II, the King played a decisive role in the decoration of the palace which features vaulted arches as well as medieval and Islamic elements.

In 1889, having been passed from royal to royal, the palace was sold to the Portuguese State and, after the Republican Revolution of 1910, it was classified a national monument and transformed into a museum. The last queen of Portugal, Queen Amelia, spent her last night at the palace before leaving the country to exile in Britain.

Like most stately homes, we toured the bedrooms, the rooms where hosts entertained their guests, the kitchens. The best part of the palace, however, has to be the Arches Yard, with chapel and clock tower. Through the arches, you could see for miles on this lovely, warm, blue day. While I clicked and I flashed, Alan strode on ahead, keen to see the rest of the place before our long journey back to Lisbon.

When we had finished our tour, we took the gut-churning bus down to the railway station, narrowly missing traffic signs and people standing on the road side. On the train, we slept while the last of the day's sun began its descent to the horizon. Alan and I smiled at eachother, happy, two friends who were having a better-than-expected holiday.

Back in the centre of Lisbon, Alan took me to Restauradores Square, from where we took the Elevator de Gloria funicular up to the viewpoint lookout of Miradouro. There, people - notably tourists - gathered, taking in the view of the cluttered, unattractive city. In the distance you could see Saint George's Castle, which has existed since the 6th Century BC with the establishment of Celtic and Iberian tribes.

We were now firmly in the Bairro Alta district which, traditionally, was the haunt of Lisbon's artists and writers. A picturesque working class quarter dating from the 16th century, Bairro Alta features rows upon rows of tasteful, pastel-coloured apartment buildings while, down alleys and sidestreets, are countless bars and restaurants which, according to our travel guide, come alive at night.

We made our way back to our hotel on foot, admiring the views offered by Bairro Alta. After a while, walking through the district of Principe Real, we passed Rua de Sao Marcal, the road featuring many gay establishments, offering us a superb view of the step hill beyond and the River Tagus.

We finally reached our hotel and, after a nice long soak in the bath, we took a cab to Bairro Alta where we dined at a very bohemian restaurant where you rubbed shoulders with fellow diners. Just before I entered the restaurant, I was stunned when someone tried to sell me drugs! We ordered a bottle of Rose and, snacking on goats cheese and olives, I devoured my roasted duck the moment it arrives on the scene. Foregoing dessert, we jumped in a cab, heading to Bar Max before moving onto Finalmente, preceeding yet another late night.

Wednesday, 19th March

After the usual breakfast, we planned to visit Parque das Nações (Park of the Nations), the location where Lisbon played host to the World Expo in 1998. Considerable regeneration had modernised the area, resulting in ship-shaped skyscraper-high apartment buildings, the imposing Vasco da Gama Tower (Lisbon's tallest building at 145m, commemorating the 500th Anniversary of Vasco da Gama's voyage to India), the architecturally marvellous Oriente Station and a shopping centre.

We spent considerable time in the shopping centre, due to the bad weather conditions - rain and wind blighted what was our last day in Lisbon. It didn't matter, though, because there were bargains to be found. One thing that amazed me was that, on what was a typical working day, it was busy. Having said that, it was shortly before Easter so perhaps many people has booked time off work.

After walked all the way along the wind-swept promenade, we reached the impressive Vasco da Gama tower. In the distance, you could see the Vasco da Gama bridge, Europe's longest bridge (11miles), stretching all the way across the River Tagus which enable visitors from Southern Portugal, Spain and other parts of Europe to attend Expo98. We made our way back to Oriente Station through the water gardens, a wooden decked area featuring cascading waterfalls and water that simulated miniature waves.

Back a Oriente Station, we decided to partake in one last coffee and cake which, I have to say, are out of this world. Simple, minimal, but delicious without the need to be too sweet, the custard tarts really are to die for.

On our way back to the hotel, we had a very unique experience on the metro. Sitting opposite us was a blind woman who seemed to be talking to herself. She wasn't mumbling, as if thought suffering from some kind of mental condition, but she was in fact talking to herself. Her irises were a bright shade of grey, revealing her condition and, with her eyes unfocused, she engaged in a conversation which made her smile. Although you couldn't hear her conversation and therefore we couldn't catch a word, we couldn't help but smile along with her. She seemed so happy, so content.

When we finally got back to the hotel, I packed early so that I could enjoy a last evening out on the town. A short nap later, Alan and I met up with three girlfriends of his who happened to also be in town. Together, we went in search of somewhere to eat, finally settling for a delicious tapas bar. Speaking Finnish for most of the dinner, we drank sparkling wine and spoke of the highlights of our trip.

It had been a wonderful trip, but I had to admit that Lisbon is one of those places I didn't intend to visit again - very rarely do I have such a view of a destination, but while there is a lot to see and do, the city just isn't pretty. As such, it doesn't owe itself to my love of photography.

Around 10pm, we all parted, Alan and I returning to our hotel room. While I was intent on going out for one last night on the town, tiredness had overcome Alan and, as such, I went out on my own. I had a great time in Finalmente, watching a repeat drag show which kind of explained why they were so good - the same show was on more than once per week and so they had got in plenty of practise in front of a live audience.

The not so pleasant highlight of the night had to be when I headbutted someone. Quite suddenly, someone stood quite close in front of me in the crowd, jerked his head back suddenly, causing my nose to bleed. Although unintentional, I was angered. I turned the guy around and headbutted him. The crowd parted, eyeing me up, but a guy I had spoken to earlier in the evening took good care of me by applying tissue to my nose in the toilets. Fortunately, my nose was not broken, but we laughed about my sudden violence. Apparently, I had scared my carer shitless and I apologised.

Looking back, the night almost had a romantic ring to it ie. guy in nightclub gets hurt, gets looked after by handsome, dark guy, relationship begins, they live happily ever after. But in all honestly, it would take someone very special to make me part with Bree. When I got home that night, I slumbered into bed, glad to be in one piece and not in a Portoguese prison cell on an assault charge.

Thursday, 20th March

I woke up just in time for the breakfast, hurriedly filling Alan in on my night out. He apologised for not coming out with me on the last night of my holiday, I apologised for leaving him on his own. The funny thing was that after I had left, apparently, Alan had endeavoured to join me, but because I had taken the door card from the slot which provided power to the room, he couldn't see anything which would enable him to get dressed! Oops!

Outside the hotel, my luggage in the boot of a taxi, Alan and I hugged tightly, realising that our fantastic trip had come to an end. Looking back, I wish it had just been a bit warmer so we could have sunbathed and swam, but you can't have everything, I suppose.

During the taxi ride, I asked the taxi driver: "Do you speak English?" to which he responded "Do you speak Portuguese?" He smiled and I smiled and then I realised that maybe this place isn't that bad. I checked in for my flight to London, from where I would take an onward flight to Manchester in order to meet Bree for the Easter weekend. Little did I know that some drama was about to kick off at both Heathrow airport and Manchester airport !

It is morning once again and, sitting at my desk at work, I can see my packed suitcase and hand luggage nearby. Once again, I am off on holiday. I will fly into Manchester (to see John), then travel down south to see my parents before spending four days in Lisbon with a Finnish friend of mine.

Bree won't be able to join me because he has no winter holiday due to some archaic employment law, which denies him holiday for the first year of service in a new company. Instead, he will fly into England the day before Good Friday where we will spend one day in Chester, another in Manchester and an overnighter in Liverpool to celebrate Sweetpea's 50th! I can't believe she is fifty!

When I get back, there will be tons of pix, perhaps some new additions to Ecliptic Images. I'll be back in Helsinki on Easter Sunday.

NORMAL LIFE: Ecliptic Images Goes Live!

I am both pleased and proud to announce that my long-awaited photographic website has finally gone live! Named Ecliptic Images, the images on the site not only speak thousands of words, but take you on a voyage of discovery.

I decided to share my images with potential customers world-wide - I have tried to capture the world's natural beauty, but it has to be said that even the mega-cities around us can feature some timeless shots which, unless captured in the moment, may be lost to us forever.

The site features images from throughout Europe, Asia, South Africa and the United States, and would not even exist if it weren't the for the handful of special people who have welcomed him into their lives, their homes and their cultures. You know who you are!

I am available for portrait photography, commissioned landscape / fields trips and capturing your special occasions. In addition, I can undertake ad-hoc photo manipulation work, tailored to the customer's needs.

Don't forget http://www1.clikpic.com/eclipticimages

The Flies & The Solitary Shit Down The Disco

Monday morning again and Saturday’s solo visit to the disco becomes nothing more than a pleasant, receding memory. It was my first night out in Helsinki since last October and only the second time in a gay bar since last Autumn. And it was fantastic! Gay bars are funny places – if you are a regular, you can easily become 'part of the furniture'. Return after a few months away and, suddenly, you are like shit surrounded by loads of flies. Guys were swarming around me, but I was there for the music. Just me and the music.

At least, that was the plan. Within minutes of arriving, I bumped in my long-time friend, the Swedish-Finn. Still sober at this point, we caught up on the usual subjects: our partners, our jobs, plans for the summer. I was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that it was now March. Where did Janaury and February go? Parting, I made my way to the back bar, obtaining a drink before making my way back towards the dance floor.

Standing very close to the dancefloor, my drinking rest on one of the shelves, I danced idly as Madonna’s Hung Up blared from the speakers; it was surprising, compared to just six months earlier, that this song didn’t attract as many people, an indication that people were moving on. To my left, the flies hovered, eyeing me up as I gyrated my hips to the music. I’m such a tease, I thought to myself. If Bree were here right now, he would probably reprimand me for 'inappropriate movement in a public place'!

From behind, somebody grabbed my ass, but no harm was done. It was one of Bree’s friends, who was accompanied by his sidekick, the Jap, a guy who is half Venezuelan, half-Japanese and lost in Finland. The three of us chatted and laughed. I told the Jap about my stalker, the one who, for the last three summers, has watched me sleep when I am at the outdoor pool in the summer. He is a bloody handsome guy, but isn’t watching people sleeping just bordering on weirdness?

Kylie Minogue’s latest hit, Wow, played and hordes of gays were rushing towards the dancefloor, seeking lyrical fulfillment from the Princess of Pop. Unable to get onto the dancefloor, I settled for my miming which, as a native English speaker, always gets the guys curious. I can imagine the questions running through their mind: How does he know all the words? How can he move so well to the music? Is he foreign? The minute this last question starts processing, the flies move in, but fortunately I am saved by Madonna’s Vogue and it’s now my time to join the dancefloor.

By this time, several drinks later, I’m 'in the zone'. I am dancing on my own in a room full of guys. Some are in a worse state than I am, others are totally sober, scanning the dancefloor ernestly in search of the night’s conquest. But I am there to enjoy myself. I’m losing control, letting the music sweep me away. As the last lyrics of Vogue fade out, the unmistakable digitised intro of Kylie Minogue’s Better The Devil You Know abruptly moves in, stealing the show, generating whoops among the gays. My eyes are closed, I’m singing, I’m dancing, I’m on fire! Guys move close, I move away, indicating that I’m here for me and not them. It was only the next morning, when the confidence had worn off that I would wonder what people must have thought of that bald, sport-looking dude doing his drag act on the dancefloor! Hilarious!

When the song drew to a close, the music took a disappointing turn and the majority of dancers left the area. At the bar, I met these two girls who, both sporting jet black hair, seemed confused when I asked them if they were together. They looked at eachother blankly before admitting that might be the case. It seemed like they were on the first days to what might be the start of a new relationship. They were attractive, but I was rather surprised when one of the girls asked me if I would sleep with her, reminding me of that time in Bergen, Norway, when a bisexual couple propositioned me to have sex with them. The offer certainly massaged my ego, but I told her I was 100% gay and I wouldn’t want to be a disappointment. She suddenly kissed me passionately and I was like oh my god! What a night this was turning out to be.

I needed another drink so, at the bar, the next surprise of the night was about to make an appearance in the form of Harri. Harri and I had been nothing more than mere acquaintances when I lived in Tampere five years earlier and, having lost contact, he was standing right next to me as I ordered my drink. It was only when I looked to my left that he was gazing into my eyes, the way drunk people do. It was then that I realized that he hadn’t changed at all – still drinking heavily, visibly fatter, still sporting the unshaven look on his greasy skin, our encounter would be brief. I made my excuses, heading towards the edge of the dancefloor.

There, I bumped into Mika, another of Bree’s life-long friends. It was clear that I had been away for too long because everyone seemed to have missed me. This visual display of non-stop socializing got the flies stirring even more - they were thinking, perhaps, that this shit is fun to be around! Mike and I cooed like old ladies in that way that only Bree and Mika can do. Having initially disliked Mika for his non-stop psychoanalysis, he had somewhat mellowed over the years making him much nicer to be around.

Mika was leaving, which would enable one particular fly to make his move on me. But he wasn’t going to make a move on me because it was Petteri, one guy I had met about two years ago. As a general rule (and I don’t know nor understand why), if a gay guy can’t sleep with you, he can’t be your friend either and this is what happened with Petteri. I hadn’t heard from him in more than a year, and I asked him why. He said he had developed feelings for me and found it difficult to be around me for that reason. I told him that he needs to learn how to separate feelings and friendship because if he finds most guys attractive - which he does since he isn’t that fussy - and cuts off all those guys that don’t reciprocate, he is potentially denying himself some great friendships. Rather bluntly, I told him 'he had lost me', and I walked away.

As I stumbled home, I noticed that I couldn’t even walk in a straight line. The blaring music receded and I was now alone with my thoughts. I remember thinking that this was the best time in my life: to be thirty is a great age. You are in top form in terms of health, you know what you want or at least you should and it helps if you’re desirable which, judging my the number of flies hovering around was definitely the case. I got into bed that night, very much content, and slept soundly in the knowledge that things were not all that bad in Finland at the moment. I have spent so much time thinking about the upcoming trip to Australia that, unintentionally, I had somehow forgotten to live in the present.

NORMAL LIFE: Photography Exercise - 'Flowers'

Got my latest issue of Digital Camera magazine and did one of the indoor exercises - I came up with these impressive flower shots. What do you reckon?

NORMAL LIFE: My Schizophrenia

My photographic creativity continues. I call this one My Schizophrenia. It somehow embodies my hyperactivity, my desire to get things done and my love of colour! Taken in a dark room, this picture is a blending of two separate images. The 'glow' is the capture of torch light on a long exposure. Separately, each of the two images were 'coloured' before being 'blended' to provide this pleasing result, My Schizophrenia!
It actually makes for an impressive desktop image. To do this:

• click on the image to download the hi-res version
• save the image to a location on your hard-drive
• go to your desktop, click the 'other' button on your mouse
• Select Properties, then Desktop and browse for the saved image
• Click Apply

NORMAL LIFE: Let The People Decide, Gordon!

I'm not anti-European. If anything, I value the modern day European Union; without it's current shape and form, I would not have been able to live in Finland for the last six years. However, time and again, I have insisted that the European Union should be nothing more than a labour union. All the bureaucracy around social security, taxation, rights to healthcare and education in your country of residence, let alone foreign policy, defence and immigration, have caused much of the anti-European sentiment felt by citizens thesethese days.

And it is for this reason I think the UK Parliament decided NOT to let the people decide whether or not the Lisbon Treaty, a watered-down version of the EU constitution signed by Prime Minister Gordon Brown last December, should be ratified by referendum (related article here). Instead, despite the fact that all three parties promised a referendum as part of their 2005 General Election manifestos, parliament has decided - now that they are comfortably in office and claiming their daily expenses to and from Westminster - that they and they alone will decide.

Fair enough, I suppose they were elected to represent the people, but if the politicans can't even be trusted to keep one simply promise - which all three parties made - what can they be trusted to do? More to the point, what are they afraid of? I suspect, given the increase in nationalism, the British would vote NO to the Lisbon Treaty, which would have disastrous consequences in the EU since every single one of the 27 members states MUST ratify the treaty in order for it to come into force.

Ireland, in true democratic style, is the only EU member that has decided to hold a referendum, which will be held during May or June 2008. It will be interesting to see how the public vote. So far, Hungary, Malta, Slovenia, Romania and France have endorsed the treaty which could potentially impact on the lives of half a billion European citizens.

With reference to the EU Constitution, which was rejected by the Netherlands and France in 2005, politicans agree that the Lisbon Treaty is about 90% the same as the already-rejected Constitution. Furthermore, British Labour MEP Richard Corbett pointed out that: 'The DNA of mice and humans is 90% the same, but the remaining 10% is rather important.' Rather important? Bloody important I would say!

The Lisbon Treaty would create an EU Presidency, whose term would last thirty months rather than the current six months. Compare the EU Presidency with the Eurovision Song Contest whereby the former East European states would nominate neighbouring states to become the next EU President. It will happen because that's what they do. Just imagine, we could have a President from Poland, then Estonia, Hungary, then Latvia, pretty much in that order. While the President has no executive powers, he or she would be a representative at meetings with the US and in Asia, representing European - including British - interests.

In addition, the Lisbon Treaty would create a single figurehead for EU foreign policy (likely to be called High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy), combining the current roles of both Foreign Policy and Security Chief as well as External Relations Commissioner. I can only imagine that there is a Stalin or Hitler or Milosevic in the European Parliament right now vying to get his hands on one of these positions. Scary! One of the things that has made nations like Britain powerful is our ability to defend our island. The newly created High Representative could use the clout of the other 26 member states to reprimand Britain should a need to respond militarily arise. As if we weren't outsiders enough already, we are at an ever increasing risk of marginalising ourselves from our European cousins.

The UK and France will lose their seats on the UN Security Council, having held a prestigious position which only seven nations hold in 'maintaining international peace and security'. Instead, there would be one EU seat instead of two. Oh, let's do it and make Europe's voice matters of peace and security even less!

The Lisbon Treaty is self-amending meaning that, without the need to organise an intergovernmental conference, the EU can amend future EU treaties incrementally without consultation. While defence is an area that cannot be amended without consultation, the impacts are otherwise without limitation.

Further EU integration has it's worries. On the top of everyone's mind is a nation's loss of sovereignity, the transferrence of power meaning the surrender of vetoes, the granting of new powers for the European Court of Justice, institutional changes (including the creation of a new president and "foreign minister") and changes to the voting system used by member states.

Instead of ushering in treaty after treaty, why don't we take some time out to allow EU citizens an opportunity to catch up with what the hell is going on? In this sense, the British government was right not to allow the public to vote on such a contentious issue. However, isn't it a country's duty to ensure that it's citizen's know what it is signing up for?

So far, the history of the EU has been obsessed with 'deepening integration'. Some states see this as pooling sovereignity because it's easier to get results this way than by acting alone. After more than twenty years of constant treaty revision, it may be time to take time out to see where revisions really are needed.

If integration really is the key, why hasn't the UK, Denmark or Sweden adopted the Euro currency? The British parliament may have got one over the electorate on this time, but when the day comes to adopt the Euro currency, that opens another can of worms and, possibly, a slap in the face to the European Union. I already cast my vote: NO!

NORMAL LIFE: I Can Feel It In My Waters

As anyone who knows me knows, I am trying to find a job in Australia so I can utilise a one-year working-holiday visa. A series of events recently have combined to freak me out, leaving me to conclude that something is about to happen!

First off, I told my boss a while ago of my plans. She has been very supportive of some internal moves, but is of course powerless to make something happen for me. With her knowledge, I applied for an internal Account Manager position. HR in Australia - with the hiring manager on the call - interviewed me for an hour. It went well, maybe 8/10 given the lack of time I was given to prepare.

When I got into the office on yesterday morning, I found a meeting invitation from my boss - who is based in the US - to have a call that evening. I accepted, curious as to the agenda. The evening came and my boss explained that she has been looking into the option of granting me one year of unpaid leave so I can utilise my visa, allowing me to return to my current role after the one-year stay. Due to Finnish law, however, this isn't possible since, in my absence, the law would require that I am replaced by an unemployed person. Since there is currently a hiring freeze, this approach cannot be used.

My boss asked if I had heard about the Account Manager position since lodging my application. I said I hadn't heard anything. She said she was going to call the hiring manager to expedite matters. The moment she said this, alarm bells began to ring in my head. Why was she being so active? Did she want rid of me? The second question had somehow escaped from my mouth and my boss laughed it away, saying: 'I just want to make sure you are looked after'. It was the way she emphasised the you. I quickly forgot about it until this morning.

As usual (naughty me!), I spent the first hour of my working day actioning the employment alerts I have set up one several Australian employment portals. To date, and within the last month, I estimate I have applied for 200+ jobs. This morning, however, I received two interesting pieces of communication. The first one told of the big boss' resignation. The big boss is a small female who, rather successfully, has managed the Helsinki site of the firm. With more than a thousand employers under her control, her resignation - while not totally surprising - seems to have plunged the employees into a new level of demotivation. After a bit of analysis, having remembered my boss' voice - 'I just want to make sure you are looked after' - I started to suspect that even more bad news was about to hit the firm.

As I continued to read my overnight email, I found a response to one job application: an agency is looking for a Senior Account Manager and my background, education and experience was closely aligned to the client's expectations! Not thinking twice, I speedily dialled the agent's number. The phone rang and I hoped he or she would answer and a she did!

What happened was we reviewed the job description during a one-hour call, during which we got on incredibly well. Australia was desperate for people with skills, she urged. She asked how earlier I could start and, without thinking, I said 4-6 weeks. She said I was guaranteed an interview - an interview with an Advertising Agency with swanky offices on the North Shore with views of the iconic Sydney Bridge! Wow, wow, wow, wow!

After a meeting and a quick lunch, I returned to my office only to find an email from the Australian High Commission in London. I had registered to attend the Australia Needs Skills Expo in London sometime ago and, today, they had approved my registration (it is an invitation-only event). What is scary that the event is on the only day I am free during my forthcoming eight-day visit to England!

Something is tell me that moving to Australia is so meant to be. I can feel it in my waters!

NORMAL LIFE: Got Soul?

Finns love snow and it brightens up their day. Or so they say. As the last remnants of Summer start to fade away, people start to look forward to a nice, hard winter full of lot's of snow to brighten up the dark winter months. Unfortunately, Global Warming has had the opposite effect, leading to the arrival of snow as late as March, by which time the dark months have well and truly passed.

Regardless, when the snow does arrive, I somehow expect people to be that little bit happier. It turns out that the snow has come at a time when suicides reach their peak. Spring time in Finland is said to spark more suicides than any of the time of year as people struggle to shake off that winter cosiness and adapt to the spring and summer social scene. Some people don't quite make it back to the social mode, choosing to end their lives instead. What a tragic waste.

I was on the bus this morning. 8am had already come and gone, and so the sun was some 40° above the horizon already. I paitently waited for my bus as I stood in the four-inch high snow and observed the other would-be passengers. If each waiting person remained still enough, you could assume that they were already close to death: facial features were taut, devoid of any expression other than abject misery. Two kids - who didn't know eachother - were the only active waiters: they spat every minute of two for reasons I couldn't understand. Is it the new cool, perhaps, to spit, much to the dismay of people nearby? I felt like knocking their heads together!

As I boarded the bus and the vehicle rounded Töölö bay, I delighted at the view: snow had come to rest around the shore of the bay, you could see Helsinki's impressive cathedral in the distance and the sun glowed through the low, misty cloud, as if through crepe paper. I seemed to be the only person on the bus who seemed to notice the view - the others continued to look straight ahead, chronic depression plasted across their faces. I doubt their demeanour would change if I played YMCA on a boogie box complete with the dance routine in the aisle!

I realise that I've got soul. I love nature, photography, music, all those things that can lift your spirits. After my detox last month, I'm now learning yoga, another attempt at finding inner peace. Scrub the idea of playing YMCA (that's soooo 70s). How about Kylie's new song, Wow? That kind of song will never become a hit - depressed people are just not receptive enough. Perhaps I am being unfair towards the shy, inhibited Finns. After all, going to work isn't an activity that delights anyone, no matter where you are in the world. Perhaps I am just too happy for this place? Or perhaps I've got too much soul? Can someone have too much soul?

NORMAL LIFE: Good Nights Out Are Coming!

It was Friday evening when I realised that I had given a day of 'free' service to my employer. Why hasn't something been done to prevent employers from getting one up on staff by making them work that 'extra' day which constitutes the four-yearly leap year? Yes, I'm talking about the 29th February. Does anybody else share my view that this is, in effect, a day of free labour and shouldn't it therefore be named as such. I mean, we work on 29th February, but why? Related article here.

By Sunday morning, I still haven't found an answer for how it is even legal for an employer to demand my services on an extra day which didn't even exist during the preceding three years. But by Sunday morning, this issue has been swept under the carpet admist a set of other interesting happenings.

The winter had yet to arrive in Finland by the first day of March - so far, there hasn't been a serious snow storm of any significance and the national railway agency, VR, has publicly declared its joy at how the weather has been no impediment on this mildest of winters. With no snow on the ground - for skiing - and no ice covering the lakes or sea - to ice-skate - each weekend thus far has been spent shopping. And so, as if on auto-pilot, we gravitated towards the town centre once again.

I stopped at a stationery store to buy coloured card for a photography project (the results which turned out to be quite impressive, will post some pix here shortly), some underpants from Stockmanns, and a photography magazine from the paper shop. I was quite surprised to see that English newspapers have come way down in price. I managed to buy the previous day's Daily Mail for just €2.50, a stark contrast to the €7 I paid just two or three years earlier!

The leading story, however, infuritated me. Apparently, Matt Drudge, of The Drudge Report, thought fit to break a media blackout which revealed that Prince Harry was serving in Afghanistan on active service against the Taliban. So much for having the Americans as our allies when they so carelessly not only reveal the location of a British Prince, but also risk the lives of his fellow comrades in the process by giving the Taliban something that might just give them reason to retaliate that little bit harder.

We headed to the nearby Cafe Esplanadi where, having obtained coffee and cake (which tasted lovely after the end of my recent detox), I settled down with the newspaper to continue the story about the revelation of Harry's service in Afghanistan. For once, the young Prince claimed he 'felt normal' and the media's - albeit not the British media, for which he was thankful - leaking of the Prince's valiant and admirable effort was simply yet another middle finger up at royalty.

From the corner of my eye, sitting less than three metres from Bree and I, I was distracted by the canoodling of a gay couple. Every couple of minutes, these two guys exhibited affection which I thought was a little bit inappropriate given the hustle and bustle in what is perhaps Helsinki's most famous cafe on a Saturday afternoon: the soft lip-on-lip kissing, the touching of the other's ear lobe, the rubbing of the other's leg. Even I am gay and I think this is wrong. In liberal Helsinki, however, I seemed to be the only one who was paying any attention. I nudged Bree and he was equally disgusted. I was tempted to shout out: get a room!

I briefly scanned my new photography magazine, gaining inspiration from the images therein. We moved on, heading towards Kamppi shopping centre, where we scanned the 3-for-2 book sale at Suomalainen Kirjakauppa, bought flowers for my afternoon photo shoot and then stocked up on food from the supermarket. As we walked home, we pondered upon the evening's plans: to sample some Australian grilled food at the nearby Radisson SAS hotel and maybe pay our first visit of the year to our local bar, Hercules.

I spent two hours of the afternoon - the sky outside still a funereal gray - taking shots of two colourful flowers against four different colour cardboard backgrounds. I had got the inspiration from a photography magazine. While Bree napped, I took more than two hundred shots before shutting off the winter lamp, the brightness from which had strained my eyes. I slept on the sofa, waking up just before 6pm for our Saturday night sauna.

In the heat of the sauna, where Bree took charge in splashing the warm water on the immensly hot stones, hunger took hold. Above the sizzle of water-on-hot-stone, Bree could hear my tummy rumbling! I shaved my head and face, emerging from the sauna feeling renewed. Our reserved hour in the basement sauna came and went and, back in the apartment, we ran around naked trying to cool down before our restaurant reservation an hour later.

Seated at the Radisson SAS hotel's restaurant, I dined on a starter of arctic and tiger prawns atop a herb salad, a main course of steak with tiger prawns and country potatoes (which actually turned out to be french fries!), followed by a dessert of chocolate cake with white fudge sauce and blood-red sorbet. When I read about the sorbet, I was reminded of the exorbitant cost of the meal: three courses each, with one bottle of Australian red wine, came for around €130 (£90). Eating out is not something we do very often due to the pricing.

We left the restaurant just before 11pm, feeling pleasantly full. Not stuffed, but fulfilled. I suggested that we go to Room, a meeting place for gays, in Kalevankatu. Why I suggested it, I do not know. I have never been there, but have heard of it countless times. It was to be the first - and last time - I would visit the place. For a start, it was a small establishment, perhaps able to accommodate a standing maximum of fifty guys. Secondly, I was the youngest guy in it - I seemed to be surrounded by ageing guys whose actions were bordering on desperation as the night wore on and their need for some kind of boozed-enhanced release intensified.

We were there for maybe thirty minutes and decided to move onto Hercules. I was desperate for some music, something a little bit more lively than standing in a room of ageing guys whose reminded me that, one day, my best friend might be the liquid at the bottle of a bottle or a cigarette packet which doubled not only as a source of relief, but also as a device which to fidget to express boredom. It was depressing.

We made our way to Lonröntinkat, then headed east towards town. As we approached Hercules, having waded through slush and driving sleet, we were stunned by the thirty metre-long queue which had formed outside Hercules. What the hell?, I whinged. The weather was awful and there was no way in hell that we were going to queue 1-hour plus to get in. It's not even midnight, I thought to myself.

It had been a lovely Saturday, but I haven't been 'out' since we were in South Africa two months ago. Coupled with the fact that I had been in a room of geriatrics and happened to be living in a country whose weather resembled a funeral that never seemed to ended, I was desperate for a good night out, a boogie on the dancefloor. I took solace in the fact that, in just two weeks, I would be in Manchester and, later this year, I would be in Australia. The need to go to Australia was becoming ever more prevalent, an opportunity to have a real laugh.

As I got into bed, we were both a little bit annoyed by how Hercules had become so popular. As we had passed the shivering queue on our way to the taxi rank, we barely recognised anyone. It was an indication that more gays were joining the scene and yet more straight people were coming to have a look and have a stare for their amusement. It is wrong that straight people are slowly abandoning their own bars to fill up ours. What is even more disheartening is that gay establishments actually allow it. What Helsinki needs is a 'village' with enough establishments to cater for the crowds, just like Manchester's Canal Street, London's Soho and Australia's Sydney. Let's hope it happens soon!