Cologne Dazzles

They say that you never forget your first time – and for me that was in Seville. While strolling along in the unfiltered sunshine, sharp flashes of light caught my eye. This was it, this was what I had heard about: the bridge of locks, the bridge of hearts, a new trend that was somehow already a tradition.

For the uninitiated, lovers sign their names onto a padlock and then throw the key into the river below. Authorities subsequently remove the locks.

A few months later in Paris, I had my second taste.On the intimate Pont des Arts, in the world’s most romantic city, a string of metal locks shimmered from the railings.

Then I visited Cologne, where passion, not to mention, imagination runs wild.

Cologne doesn’t limit itself to padlocks. The Hohenzollernbrücke Bridge excels itself, not only in terms of the length of its name, but also in terms of declaring undying love.

Cologne Says It With Handcuffs

Hohenzollernbrücke has padlocks, alright. It also has handcuffs, tin cans, bicycle chains and padlock formations. Glitter, gold and gratuitous gemstone stickers. Wilting roses, weathered writing and rusting romance.

A modern blacksmith-of-love sits at one end of the bridge, carving initials into padlocks, while a rose-seller approaches from the opposite direction.

The Hohenzollernbrücke Bridge excels itself, not only in terms of the length of its name, but also in terms of declaring undying love. 

Perhaps things have got out of hand, especially given that Federico Moccia only invented the “tradition” a few years ago as a handy plot device for his novel and subsequent film Ho Voglia de Te.

The Padlock Bridge, Cologne

Creative Padlocks

Love overflows in Cologne...

Ah, well. True love conquers all, as they say.

Or does it? Perhaps I’m not alone in raising an eyebrow of cynicism at so much symbolism.

Stencilled onto the tarmac walkway lies the following message: “Love is only a four-letter word.”

...but not for everyone

I travelled to Cologne as a guest of the Eurostar Explorer team, although as usual, all opinions are my own. I have no relationship with any padlock sellers, engravers, florists or gemstone sticker salespeople, which is probably just as well.

This post on padlocks in Cologne has also joined the happy ranks of the Lonely Planet’s Blogsherpa carnival Love on the Road, hosted this time at Barefoot Inked. Head over there to read more traditions about love from around the world.

British Weather

In Britain, talking about the weather is an accepted, even expected, way to start, finish and sometimes fill a conversation. Every time it snows, the country grinds to a halt and the press fills its pages with scenes of gridlocked white. Every time the sun shines, people rush to parks and roll up their trousers and sleeves until they turn red. Both extremes are rare.

Instead, the weather in Britain lurches and stumbles through various shades of grey and flattened blue, with clouds, drizzle, fog and mizzle (a word that describes a cross between mist and drizzle in the north of England, which has plenty of both.) In this way, British weather provides citizens with enough small-talk to sustain a conversation for decades.

This year, Lloyds TSB has launched a competition to celebrate Britain’s crazy weather (perhaps as an explanation to outsiders as to why we talk about it so much.)

How to Enter

The British Weather Photographer of the Year is open to all UK residents (except for professional photographers) and is free to enter. First prize is £10 000 and the photographer with the most votes each week wins £100. Get snapping soon as the deadline is 30^th September.

Geese On Ice

You can upload as many photos as you like and the good news is that you can vote without registering a gazillion details in advance. Try it out now by voting for one of my pictures ;)

Or, if you don’t want to do that – just let me know in the comments box which photo you prefer.

Sponsored Post – See the full disclosure policy here.

A bee takes shelter just in time

Ice Swan

Sunset on Ice

Chunky British Traffic Lights

“Is it weird to be back?”

I hear that a lot each time I return to this jigsaw-shaped island that floats west of mainland Europe. The first answer that springs to mind is “well, yes…and no.”

Since that makes for a spectacularly boring blog post (not to mention conversation), I thought I’d pay my homeland of Britain a little more attention and write about something I have only noticed since I started travelling so much:

Britain is Chunky

Britain is chunky.

Chunky British Signposts

Chunky, not as a euphemism for fat, but as an expression for sturdy, bold and substantial. Britain is the Yorkie chocolate bar of countries. If France and Spain have a tendency for finesse and fiesta, then Britain’s street furniture (don’t laugh, that’s what it’s called) says “no fuss, please.”

Solid red post boxes, block letters on signposts, road markings so thick they could double as a new form of Braille. Huge angular 50p pieces, police helmets like church bells and those cubes in Branston Pickle.

Just imagine a pint of real ale next to a flute of champagne and you’ll understand what I mean.

Chunky British Post Box

So, is it weird to come back? No, not weird. Just chunky.

Spanish Traffic Lights - A Casual Approach

Petrol Art - A Close-Up

Against a passionfruit and pomegranate backdrop, black swirls created a face that grinned like a friendly version of Alice’s Cheshire cat. The picture hung in my hotel room at Mallorca’s Hotel Horizonte, a wild splash of colour in an otherwise neutral place.

As it turned out, this was Petrol Art, a creative enterprise distilled from the desire to convert environmental damage into something more worthwhile. I caught up with the painting’s creator, Jimmy Pons, and asked him to tell me all about it.

“I started about 20 years ago,” he told me. “And I learned by practising, learning, trying.”

Jimmy Pons - Petrol Art

To make the paint, Jimmy collects lumps of black petrol sludge (or “tar biscuits” as he more optimistically describes them) from the leftovers that wash up on the shores of his native Spain. After soaking for several hours, the tough material softens to form a vivid, dramatic artistic material.

Such strong black lines could easily display horror or focus on destruction, yet by casting his strokes over rainbow canvases, Pons obviously takes a positive approach.

He’s a man who smiles a lot, with tanned skin and an age that’s hard to pin down.

“This is some of the work we’ve done with kids,” he says, leading me through a series of YouTube videos and Flickr photo collections, the first hint of his main occupation as an expert in social media.

“Now we have a series of BlogRooms,” he tells me, showing me a photo of the room that I stayed in.

Petrol Art in the "BlogRoom" at Hotel Horizonte

This is the sort of thing I feel I should know already, but don’t. “What on earth is a BlogRoom?”

“A hotel must provide free wifi within the room and donate 200 Euros each year to a charity that cleans up environmental damage,” Pons explains. “We now have Petrol Art on display in five different hotels across Spain, from Mallorca to Asturias.”

It sounds like the perfect project for this enthusiastic man from Menorca: travel, art and saving the world, mixed in with a healthy dose of social media.

“Is there any danger that you’ll run out of materials?” I ask.

“Walking around Spain?” he says. “Sadly, not.”

Inside Ronnie Scott's - Phil King

Ronnie Scott’s has become a byword for top quality music. At least to everyone I know. Sadly, as is often the case in all things musical, I was playing catch up from the moment I heard the word “acoustic.” So here’s the lowdown…

Ronnie Scott’s – One of the Oldest Jazz Clubs in the World

Ronnie Scott, the man, forged a successful career as a tenor saxophonist in the UK before going on to found one of the oldest and most respected Jazz clubs in the world. He named it, er, Ronnie Scott’s.

From 1959, with only one change of address, Ronnie Scott’s, the club, grew to invite stars such as Ella Fitzgerald into its famed Soho quarters. Then, on one dry August evening it invited me.

Inside Ronnie Scott's

Now, technically speaking, the club invited Fitzgerald to perform, whereas I was invited to become a paying member of the audience, but let’s not get bogged down by details!

Built (literally) on the foundation of the original Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club is Ronnie Scott’s Bar, a low-lit, low-ceiling area decked out in faux tiger prints and monochrome photographs of previous jazz superstars.

In true London fashion, Ronnie’s Bar is open seven days a week, showcasing this generation’s talent above the streets of Soho. Its location, as much as its history, gives it that slight thrill of excitement.

In London’s Soho, the streets are narrow but the outlook is not. Fluorescent letters proclaim G-A-Y, an illuminated stiletto announces the latest production of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert and despite the threat of traffic, the young, the suits and the trendy spill onto the tarmac.

Soho feels hot even when it is cold, feels alive while the rest of the world sleeps and projects a corner of intimacy in a city that holds 12 million people.

That’s no mean feat.

Phil King at Ronnie Scott's

Of course, it helps when you know people and as it happens, I recognised the first act. Described by London’s Time Out as a “supremely talented, Bristol-based singer,” Phil King also has to carry the rather less flattering epithet of “my brother-in-law.”

Still, the crowd didn’t hold it against him as his soulful voice tumbled through hits from his latest album, They Come and They Go as well as introducing some of his newest work.

Ronnie’s Bar somehow blends standing on hallowed ground with hanging around in a student bar. The prices at the bar, however, set the record straight. Ronnie Scott’s lives in central London – and you must expect to pay the price.

Ronnie Scott's - London

Ronnie Scott - A Legend

Disclosure:  I earned the money for this trip by writing for Most Wanted, a lifestyle magazine that helps you save money on hotels in London and beyond. However, I have absolutely no relationship with Ronnie Scott’s whatsoever.

Dizzee Rascal - Benicassim FIB 2010

Living Like a Rock Star – Benicassim FIB 2010 in Photos is the 4th and final part of a series on the FIB Music Festival in Benicassim. Visit part one, Into the Spotlight with Kasabian here, part to Behind the Scenes at Benicassim here and part three The Prodigy Live here. Enjoy! 

Piercing Kiosk at Benicassim FIB 2010

By the fourth and final day, I am well and truly into the FIB groove. Heck, I am even the Mayor of the VIP area on FourSquare (for those of you care what that means.) FIB has quite a line-up, even if Lily Allen did pull out for the second year running. The Prodigy, Kasabian, Vampire Weekend, The Gorillaz, Ellie Goulding, John Lydon, Ash, DJ Shadow, The Specials, Peter Hook, GoldFrapp and all the others I didn’t manage to see. 

By day I’ve been hiking, kayaking, swimming and flying. By night, I check the permissions list, buy vouchers for beer, grab earplugs and camera and head to the stage. 

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired, but as the security guards shine a torch on my pass and I stride around that corner, the surrounding screams, swirling spotlights and throbbing baseline energise me. 

For a brief, flicker of a moment – I’m living like a rock star. 

One View from the Photo Pit - Benicassim FIB 2010

Benicassim FIB 2010Opposite the VIP Entrance

Opposite the VIP Entrance

Vampire Weekend

VIP Area - FIB 2010 Benicassim

The Press Room - FIB 2010 Benicassim

Peter Hook Goes Wild - FIB Benicassim 2010

Making Friends at the FIB

Food at the FIB

FIB 2010

FIB 2010 Fan

Chilling Out in the VIP Area - Benicassim 2010

View of FIB from the Mountains

After 4 Days at FIB...

Er, me - FIB 2010 - Photo Credit: Keith Jenkins - Velvet Escape

Benicassim FIB 2010 - My Favourite Photo

“FIB” is a four day music festival held each year in Benicassim in Spain. I attended as a guest of The Land of Valencia but all words, photos and opinions are mine (except for (obviously?!) the photo of me, which was kindly provided by Keith Jenkins of the luscious travel blog Velvet Escape.)

For a brief, flicker of a moment – I’m living like a rock star. 

The Prodigy Live is the 3rd in a 4-part series on the FIB Music Festival at Benicassim. Part One – Into the Spotlight with Kasabian, Part Two – Behind the Scenes at Benicassim, Part Four – Living Like a Rock Star – Benicassim FIB in Photos.

The Prodigy Live at FIB, Benicassim 

“Just piss in the*&*ing pool!” yells a dapper kind of guy to his girlfriend in the queue beside me.

She refuses and waits in line, still in her bikini, skin still wet. “To anyone here who speaks English,” she says. “I can only apologise.”

He throws his hands into the air. “Well, I’m not waiting for you. I’m not going to miss The Prodigy.”

Ah…all becomes clear. The Prodigy. Prodigy, Prodigy, Prodigy. It’s all anyone’s talking about tonight. I’m not a big fan of their lyrics, they’re the only artists at Benicassim restricting the press, and now this. It’s not looking good.

Employing the unfair advantage of being sober, it’s actually quite easy to get near the front. With the stage bathed blood-red and smoke filling the air, The Prodigy arrive and the crowd combusts. The opening bars of Firestarter creep into the rhythm of my brain…but it’s no good. I just can’t stomach Smack My Bitch Up.

When the guy next to me picks my pocket, it’s the final straw. Sorry, Prodigy, and I know you won’t care, but I’ve had enough.

The Prodigy - Live at Benicassim

I meander back to the press room, checking my pockets as I go. My only consolation, I realise smugly, is that the thief will open up his grubby palm to find that he’s stolen my business card holder instead of my wallet.

The final instalment on the FIB at Benicassim coming soon…

The Prodigy - Well, Everyone Else Liked Them...

View from the Photo Pit - Benicassim FIB

A FIB-er

 The FIB Photo Pit

Nights at the party, days by the beach. That’s the hedonistic promise made by the music festival in Benicassim. Forget the mud of Glastonbury, forget that FiberFIB sounds like a constipation product. Grab a ticket to Spain and party for four days, both beneath and in front of the stars. 

From where I’m standing, of course, that’s only partly true. The spotlights blind out the stars overhead but those on stage are only a metre away. Tom Meighan, Kasabian’s lead singer, comes within reach of my hand as I’m leaning on a speaker, trying to get a shot. 

It’s a surreal feeling, to come this close. For although the eyes of thousands are watching him, someone now watches me.

Work Above the Stage

Intently.

Forget about the party, in the few square metres of the photo pit, everyone has a job to do – and that includes security. 

As for me, I have only three songs before the outstretched hand of security clamps over the lens of my camera. In the Spanish summer heat, between darkness and disorienting sapphire light, I feel as though I am swimming in music. What the earplugs dampen, the reverberations amplify and the screams of the crowds mash up. The occasional thump from security adds an improvised note of percussion. 

“I told you to look out,” yells a giant of a man in a fluorescent jacket as he almost drops a dehydrated and damaged girl onto another photographer. Both shrug and continue, ducking around cables, lenses, and each other to get on with the job at hand. 

Sweat glistens, no-one smiles. Security pull the vulnerable from the crowd, pour water over their heads and then frogmarch them away. They never relax for a moment – and I can understand why. Every year, at some concert or another, someone dies in a crush –and no-one wants that on their watch. 

The Crowd 

Someone Is Watching - Thankfully

Of course, not all bands attract so much attention. FIB has at least another two stages (plus a dance hall that I never venture into), where audiences sway rather than stampede. Scattered across the grass and tarmac, young faces smile, wearing glitter on their cheeks and flowers in their hair, oblivious to the hard work and strategy going on around them. 

And these faces are young, with dreamy eyes and innocent enthusiasm, something that can’t be said for most of the performers (nor photographers when it comes to that!) John Lydon from the Sex Pistols snarls and snarks with Public Image Ltd, while Peter Hook rocks and rolls with a tricky looking hip. Even The Prodigy, Saturday’s headline band and general crowd-pleaser, first screeched Firestarter while I was still at school. 

With the exception of perhaps Vampire Weekend and Dizzee Rascal – where is this generation’s music? Where are the older generation’s fans? Tucked up in the VIP area, perhaps, having earned a few more pay cheques and lost all desire to sidestep the odd pile of vomit. 

The VIP Area 

Watermelon FIBer

The VIP entrance stands next to the piercing kiosk and opposite a giant glow-in-the-dark Doc Marten. Inside, there’s an illuminated swimming pool, violet-glow trees and white leather mattresses that lounge in front of panelled screens. 

This is the way to watch a music festival – with easy access to the stage and then a comfortable and quiet place to sit afterwards. I must be getting old. 

Or am I? With the exception of the media lurking in the shadows, the bona fide VIPs look as though it’s their very first time around the block. Perhaps lazy and chilled really is the new black and these days people party within this capsule of sophistication. 

The trip to the Portaloos brings me back to reality. 

Continues with The Prodigy Live and Living Like a Rock Star – Benicassim in Photos.

Peter Hook at FIB

Lydon Snarls at FIB

The Beach at Benicassim

The small town of Benicassim on the northeast coast of Spain hosts the annual music festival, FIB. In between catching the likes of Kasabian, the Gorillaz and Dizzee Rascal, I had the chance to take to the skies and see Benicassim in a different way.

Benicassim Tower

Benicassim From Above

The Coast at Benicassim

Oil Rig Under Construction - Benicassim

Flying at Benicassim

I flew over Benicassim as a guest of Land of Valencia. Find the breathlessly exciting disclosure policy here.

Benicassim - Kasabian

The air in Benicassim throbs with heat, with screams, with expectation. Overhead somewhere, the sky must be thick with darkness but right here, right now, everything is bright. We hurry through a makeshift corridor, flanked by security, and burst into open space as the crowd goes wild.

Sixty thousand people applaud and scream, their outstretched hands rippling like stalks of corn in a hurricane. We’ve arrived at the same time as Kasabian and we stand in the few metres that separate the stage from the audience.

This is the Benicassim 2010 Music Festival and we’re just getting started.

 Continues with Behind the Scenes at Benicassim, The Prodigy Live and finally Living Like a Rock Star – Benicassim FIB in Photos.

Benicassim 2010 - Kasabian

Benicassim - KasabianBenicassim 2010 - Kasabian

Kasabian - Benicassim 2010

Benicassim 2010 FIB - Starting the Right Way!

FIB – the 2010 Benicassim Music Festival

started today (or last night, depending on your point of view!) It runs for four days and I’ll be there as a guest of Land of Valencia, although, as ever, editorial control is all mine.