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alt det magiske

januar 5, 2010

Igjen har jeg så mye jeg vil fortelle dere. Jeg vil vise dere Chiang Mai, med alle kafeene, templene og hundene, med den gode maten, elven, kanalen, Chiang Mai med fjellene i bakgrunnen, jeg vil vise dere byen der det er kjølig om morgenen, der man må ha på seg en genser om kvelden.

Også vil jeg vise dere Chiang Kong, den lille grensebyen alle overser, der alle turistene sover før de blir fraktet over til Laos dagen etter, jeg vil vise dere Laos sett fra Chiang Kong, jeg vil dere skal se mektige Mekong flyte sakte på sin ferd mot Kambodsja, mot Vietnam, mot Sørkinahavet, jeg vil dere skal føle den magien jeg følte da jeg sto på elvebredden ved midnatt nyttårsaften med et enkelt stjerneskudd i hånden og blikket festet på flammene under alle ballongene som ble sendt til himmels.

For ikke å glemme alle de fantastiske menneskene, jeg vil dere skal bli kjent med ungdomsgjengen som bare kunne fem ord engelsk, men som inviterte oss på nyttårsfeiring likevel, som disket opp med øl og rom, kjøtt og fisk på fortauskanten, som gestikulerte med armene og understreket at de likte reggae best av alt, jeg vil dere skal møte den britiske syklisten som har åpnet et sykkelmuseum i Chiang Kong, som egentlig har pensjonert seg, men som likevel skal sykle verden rundt til våren, i håp om å bli verdens raskeste.

Men alt til sin tid, for før jeg kan vise dere alt dette, har jeg godt over tusen bilder å se gjennom, historier å fordøye, tanker å sortere.

Dessuten har alvorets måned kommet, i Bangkok betyr januar 60 sider oppgaveskriving, jeg skal bure meg inne, i en måned skal jeg sitte ved skrivepulten min, titte ut på bassenget, på skyskraperne, prøve å vri hjernen for enda en setning og så en til.

Av og til tror jeg nok jeg må ty til følgende sitat for litt trøst, følgende sitat og noen ruter langreist melkesjokolade.

There is magic even here, in gridlock, in loneliness, in too much work, in late nights gone on too long, in shopping trolleys with broken wheels, in boredom, in tax returns, the same magic that made a man write about a princess that slept until she was kissed, long golden hair draped over a balcony and fingers pricked with needles. There is magic even here, in potholes along back-country roads, in not having the right change (you pat your pockets), arriving late and missing the last train home, the same magic that caused a woman in France to think that God spoke to her, that made another sit down at the front of a bus and refuse to move, that lead a man to think that maybe the world wasn’t flat and the moon could be walked upon by human feet. There is magic. Even here. In office cubicles.

(I Wrote This For You)

———————————————

I have so much i want to tell you. I want to show you Chiang Mai, with all the cafes, temples and dogs, with the delicious food, the river, the canal, Chiang Mai surrounded by mountains, i want to show you the city where it’s cold in the mornings, where you have to wear a jacket in the evenings.

And i want to show you Chiang Kong, the small border town, which everyone seems to oversee, where all the tourists just sleep, waiting for the morning and their trip to Laos. I want to show you Laos seen from Chiang Kong, i want you to see the great Mekong on its way towards Cambodia, towards Vietnam, towards the South China Sea, i want you to feel the magic i felt when i was standing on the riverside at midnight new years eve, with my eyes fixed on the fires underneath the balloons sent up to reach the stars.

And of course i want to show you all the wonderful people, i want you to get to know the boys and girls who didn’t know more than five words of English, but who invited us to celebrate the new year with them anyway, the ones who grilled meat and fish on the sidewalk and shared their beer and rum, while counting down to midnight, and the cyclist, i want you to meet him, the british cyclist who has opened a cycling museum in Chiang Kong, the cyclist who has tried to retire, but can’t sit still, and this spring he will cycle around the world, try to be the fastest one.

All this i want to show you, but it has to wait, before i can start i have to look at more than thousand photos and sort both them and my thoughts.

Moreover, this is the month of serious work, in Bangkok january means 60 pages to write, i’m going to lock myself up in front of my desk, for a month i’m going to sit there, looking out on the swimming pool and the skyscrapers, trying to find another sentence, and then one more.

In between i think i will have to seek comfort in the following words, in the following words and some pieces of norwegian chocolate.

There is magic even here, in gridlock, in loneliness, in too much work, in late nights gone on too long, in shopping trolleys with broken wheels, in boredom, in tax returns, the same magic that made a man write about a princess that slept until she was kissed, long golden hair draped over a balcony and fingers pricked with needles. There is magic even here, in potholes along back-country roads, in not having the right change (you pat your pockets), arriving late and missing the last train home, the same magic that caused a woman in France to think that God spoke to her, that made another sit down at the front of a bus and refuse to move, that lead a man to think that maybe the world wasn’t flat and the moon could be walked upon by human feet. There is magic. Even here. In office cubicles.

(I Wrote This For You)

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2 kommentarer leave one →
  1. januar 5, 2010 2:01 pm

    Nice writing style. I look forward to reading more in the future.

    • januar 7, 2010 4:26 am

      Thanks:) I hope you will enjoy what’s coming too!

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