Renegade Writings

The collected writings of a Renegade Tourist

Month

March 2010

Södra Teatern, Stockholm 7:50 pm

Lying in the darkness between two backdrops, the left one to be used soon, and behind the one on the right a familiar scene is going on, a scene from a show that  I’ve seen  from the sidelines many times by now.  I’m stretched out in the shape of a cross on the hard stage floor, staring up at the walkways and  theater mechanics high above. The actors on the other side of the backdrop are performing a song and dance number and I can feel the vibrations in the floor. I zone out for a while, staring blankly at … Read the rest

Ullådalen, Åre 2:20 pm

Beautiful but deadly is a phrase that is all too common when describing snow-clad mountains but it feels appropriate here. On this lightly sloping plain the wind has pushed the snow into drifts and ridges and the sun shines out of a cloudy sky on the frozen landscape. Fine snow flows like smoke over the hard surface and glitters in the sun rays. The scene has that kind of barren beauty of an arctic landscape and it has the same kind of deadliness. For although civilization is nearby, the cold is substantial. The wind tears at any exposed skin with … Read the rest

Stendalen, Åre 2 pm

The world is without sound. The soft, fluffy snow beneath my board dampens out all but the wind.  It is hard to describe this feeling, the snow is so soft it feels like floating on clouds, yet I cut through it like a knife through sun warm butter. At the same it is harsh, brown reeds and scraping sounds remind me of bumps and ridges and the wind bites in to the skin on my face. There is a kind of flow to it, the softness, the cold and the speed merging to create that special fluid feeling that is … Read the rest

Train to Åre 7:15 pm

Three empty seats across from me, two to the right. The seats are covered in a dreary blue cloth and the walls of my compartment are clinically grey. Outside the open compartment doors is an empty corridor and to my right, my white and orange jacket in front of the black window. It dangles back and forth with the trains motion, gadunk, gadunk, gadunk. This train reminds me of the Trans Siberian railway but not in a good way, rather in all the ways it is lacking. The compartments in those old Russian trains were more lively and more colorful. … Read the rest

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