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PER MARE PER TERRAM

Chant du monde boréal
Shoormal.
Sandshifter, 60N.
Where it all makes sense.


CHRONICLES FROM ARCANIA

Preamble

Through Chronicles from Arcania, I shall attempt to share walks with you, this poetics from 60N, where I feel at one with our Earth, my sense of place so maritime.


Sunday 15 April 2012

adventures from hill 2 shore

windows' stories


April never deceives. From hill to shore, my two weeks of freedom have opened single track roads around the island.


Photo courtesy of R. Dornås

Last Monday, I shared a slice of Sumburgh & Compass Head with a young lady from Bergen, whom I met on a coach on the previous Saturday... We befriended and, in no time, we spent Monday  between tarmac, mud and laughters! The view from Compass Head is fabulous. We spoke the magic of our respective worlds, conservation and drivers' tricks... We exchanged e-addresses, and Bergen lies on the other side of the North Sea - all I need to do is look eastward. More connection with our Scandinavian neighbours & friends :-) ...And talking of Norge, I felt far too happy to hear from my Norskie connection: NYBAKK returns to my side of this wild North Sea next month, just in time for Norway's Constitution Day. We have something special in store for celebrating our bond with our Nordic heritage - the grand opening of Scalloway's brand new Museum. Scalloway, toute une histoire! 



And this morning, looking through a window that was not mine, I woke up under a dusting of snow that melted at sheer speed of light - this arctic blue in which we bathe is still raging. However, my window was amazing.
I spent the last precious hours with my Serpentine Clan in a fantastic setting - Voxter Centre, just off the settlement of Brae, a little north of my 60N latitude. And what a slice of life!
We gathered in the old manse and invested each room with 
pleasure and passion. It is a magic place, for it harbours comfort and joie de vivre - it has a walled garden, in which trees turn into gallions for all kinds of pirates! ...A plantation to please the eye and warm the heart by the hearth after dark. Our little troupe made it home for the weekend. Effortlessly, since freak snow showers never stopped us. 


Actors' delight 
we spoke, we wrote, we played and read...

From Jonathan's little family of adventurers to the keenest Thespian, Voxter - that translates as  a good place for growing - offered a playground and a home. In between two workshops, some of us dared to venture out to the wood and, closer to the porch, the walled garden. Jane, The Matriarch,  gathered dead  wood for a perfect log fire and fed the hearth with passion. Then, she led part of her clan within the dry stone walls where the world's safe for them to play  in harmony with their whole world.


And as the day drew to a close, Louise and Wendy had concocted us a dinner fit for a night of role-play, entitled "The Brie, The Bullet & The Black Cat" - a game of murder mystery.
We were given a few hours to turn into our characters. One after the other, we reconvened to a table that reeled to the sombre 1940s. Inspector Jacque LeClue would make us question our motives... 
As each clue was revealed, we grew nervous, dismayed or afraid. All would be revealed in due time. Actors' magic - we spanned our lounge into 1940's Casablanca. The night ended in the retiring room, by the log fire. Joy or horror, I discovered my character to be the naughty one - the murderer, or at least, one of two. For a nano-second, repulsion filled my heart... I did not expect it. Together with my (then) unknown accomplice, I had to hide the deed. Confusion filled the room - and then, shock, horror! Hahha, for a first time, the game was fun. Just by the hearth, we laughed and played charades till late.



From hill to shore,
my fortnight of adventures is coming to an end. And left Voxter & friends with a great sense of happiness - happiness for such great moments that I will treasure forever. The drive through da Lang Kames was magnificent, as Nordic sun refracted on snow-dusted hillsides. But pushed the door of my dear hut to be re-united with window panes dear to my heart.


Thank you, dear friends, for such a great string of adventures!

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