The music is “Your Song” by Ellie Goulding (originally Elton John, of course).

You can also find these photos elsewhere online

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The music is “Honey, let me sing you a song” by Matt Hires.

You can also find these photos elsewhere online

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• Blakepics

The music is “Bright Lights” by Tom McRae.

Let me know if you’re having any trouble viewing the video. This is the first time using an HTML5 compatible video format, which for the most of you should spark feelings of “I don’t care”, but hopefully the video should be a little higher quality than usual as well as supporting future standards, etc. If you’re not yet using a compliant browser, shame on you – but you should just get the flash version like usual.

I arrived into the Cameron Highlands late at night, after escaping the intense heat of KL by train, then a long bus ride that appeared questionable whether it would reach the top of the first hill. The Cameron Highlands are a huge expanse of green hills, tea plantations and forests, which remains the coolest part of Malaysia, and visited as a popular holiday destination by locals and us foreign travellers alike.

Strawberries are also rather popular here.

A little obsessively so.

I had not really thought of Malaysia as being known for its strawberries, but around here, they seem to revel in the prospect. Cushions, t-shirts, dresses, door mats, hats (I feel terribly sorry for the poor Malaysian baby that was forced to wear one, I’m sorry – you may have been only 1yr old, but you looked ridiculous), jelly, jam, cheese cake, juice, chocolate coated, honey coated, strawberry on a stick… You name it, we got it. I’m quite certain I’ll be spotting that all out of season strawberries in the UK come right from these very hills, but until now I hadn’t given it much thought. Most Malaysians I speak to tell me, rather bitterly at times, that everything (tea, fruits, vegetables) is exported to Singapore. Maybe they sell it all on at higher prices. Why would they want that many strawberries, after all.

I escaped from all of this. Running towards the nearest jungle trail (aptly named Jungle Trail number 9) where I bumped into a couple from Haslemere, Surrey (that’s 20 minutes from home, to you and me) and promptly hijacked their guide. I’d chosen the easiest trail around anyway – large parts of it were paved, and only a small part of the trail required any significant root climbing. Far better than the trip to Turkey where the instructions “just climb that wall” were given. Though Jungle Trail does sound far more adventurous, even if it is number 9.

Anyway, moments after kidnapping their guide, Surrey Guy asked him about the strawberries. His face clouded over. “I hate strawberries” the guide muttered under his breath. Too much of a good thing, perhaps? This was before I had tried one of the must-have dishes off the menu in a nearby cafe. “Strawberries and cheese on toast”. Yes, it was as bad as it sounds, and if you think for a minute that the cheese was melted over strawberry jam (slightly better than the alternative), I have pictures to demonstrate the cheese melting strawberry goodness . I guess if all you have had is strawberries for life, you probably would go a little stir crazy. “Can you believe they’re making strawberry pillows, now!” continued the guide. Concerned as I was that he was going to start turning his pockets out and throw strawberries at the lot of us, I made my excuses and returned the guide to his rightful owners. They had paid, after all.

I’m hoping that now I’ve sampled the strawberry delights, famous in this region, I will still be able to leave. My fear is that the strawberries are the cause of the madness I see on every market stall. This whole area may be one big Hotel California, or Stepford – with one bite of a strawberry having sealed my fate to open a market stall and sell strawberry shaped cushions in the middle of nowhere for the rest of my days. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.

Or maybe the strawberries are making me paranoid.

Send help.

The music is “Notions of Love” by Clare Means, a performer from Los Angeles who was playing and singing to a large gathering on the streets of Copenhagen on my last night. If you like this, I’d suggest ordering her CD.

As usual, you can also find a full quality version of this video on Blakepics. The music for this one is from the soundtrack of Die Riesen Kommen entitled "Decollage", the show from Royal De Luxe put on in Berlin to prompt this trip.

Reunited giants resting on their way home

Today was the finale of Die Riesen Kommen, which saw them both waking up from the Brandenburg Gate. Obviously they did what I wished I had and had a sunday lie-in, so didn’t wake up until 90 minutes after the alarm clock was supposed to go off. It did mean I got a spot right down the front for the first part of the show and to join in chants with hundreds of Germans of which I *hope* was something along the lines of “why are we waiting?”, rather than “The French are almost as lazy as the Brits”.

Once they did get moving, playing leapfrog with the rest of the crowds seemed to work very well. The Elephant and the Sultan had crowds of people following them through the London streets. In Berlin, with a lot more space and a lot more shortcuts, it was much easier to run ahead and meet the giants as they passed the next time.

All along the parade, giant symbols crashed in front of the giants, and a cannon, yes, a frickin’ mail cannon propelled letters the little girl had brought with her on her journey high into the sky to scatter onto the crowd below. Right now, that’s a much better service than we get with Royal Mail. We just need a giant cannon mounted on the front of the HMS Belfast, and we can launch all the undelivered mail across South Bank.

Children frantically darted in and out of the crowd running back to their parents with letters grasped tightly in their hands. I suspected I wasn’t going to see what was written on the letters. I had to get mean. Knock a few kids heads together, steal the mail from their pockets, or generally intercept and intimidate them before they got back to their parents.

I waited patiently instead, and now I have a sizeable stack of said mail. Except it’s all in German. I should have seen that coming.

Still, it kept everyone entertained in between following the giants around. Reunited as they were, the giants crossed the bridge towards the new Hauptbahnof station, and boarded a boat where they laid down for a nap together as they were transported out of Berlin with people clapping and cheering all the way along the river.

I caught only a small final glimpse of the giants before they left, as I was crossing the river to the East Berlin Wall Gallery, I saw their boat in the distance. They’d since been covered up, and were well on their journey home as they passed the bridge underneath me.

Well done Royal De Luxe, for an another excellent show, and Berlin for being such a fantastic host. Royal De Luxe and their giants have undoubtedly succeeded in bringing another city together under the banner of imagination. Something which may be especially poignant for Berlin, over the weekend of German unity.

Field of Stelae

At first I thought it was a crazy art exhibit which got horribly out of control. As though the artist kept laying down more pieces, and just kept going because nobody told him to stop. It reminded me of the Anthony Gormley exhibit I saw back when he had the exhibition at the Hayward Gallery, and filled a room with person sized blocks which you could walk between and around.

Just south of the Brandenburg gate is the Field of Stelae, an almost 20,000m² field of 2,711 concrete blocks each with a pathway in between to find your own way through the memorial. Thousands of concrete blocks might seem like something out of a 60s nightmare, but the effect is stunning.

Walking from one side to another is a feat the will very likely find you meeting suited businessmen carrying coffee, tourists (such as myself) hunting for a clear stretch to take photos, young children tumbling and giggling as they twist and turn around aimless unknown corners, teenagers racing down the 1 metre wide passageways oblivious to pushchair dangers lurking behind the block, parents shouting names of lost young children still tumbling and giggling, and the best location in the whole world for a game marco polo.

The whole piece was designed by Peter Eisenman and you might be quick to suggest meaning behind the concrete blocks, the pathways and the shadows cast. The information leaflet I picked up is quick to disperse those ideas, and claims the memorial is unique in that it uses no symbolism. One of the FAQs at the back: “Why are there 2,711 stelae” is answered quite frankly that it is the result of “measurements chosen by the architect for the location”. Well, duh. It goes on to say that it bears no relation to the number of victims, or hold any symbolic significance. It is, just because it is. This is one of the most refreshing displays of both remembrance, and art that I’ve ever seen, and I love it.

Inside the glass dome on top of the Bundestag

The Bundestag sits on the western edge of Berlin, and is now the official home of the German parliament (again).  Back when it was named the Reichstag, a fire in 1933 was one of the events Hitler used as pretext to sieze power.  Seems pretty suspicious to me.  “Guten tag Herr Hitler.  Wie geht’s?”  “Ja, sehr gutt, und du?”  “Oh mein gott, was ist das?  Das Reichstag ist “… what’s German for ‘on fire’?  “…geblazen.” (???)  And while they were all distracted putting it out, Hitler seized power, eh?

Fitting that it’s the same way he left the world then.

Actually, that whole paragraph was just so I could show off how good my German has got in just 3 days here.  Four years of studying it, and I still can’t hold a conversation beyond “Ja, sehr gutt.  Und du?”  Even shopping is useless  I can go into any bakery and ask, “Ich mochte ein butterbrot, bitte”.  Except I don’t want the damn sandwich.  I want the cake.  Ich mochte cake.

So anyway, that’s kind of how Hitler came to power.  It was properly restored from 1990-1999 or so which also saw a new dome erected on top which houses a central funnel of mirrors and two separate spiral walkways towards the top of the dome.  It is without a doubt, really, really cool, and well worth the hours wait in the rain I queued to get in.  Can someone check for me – I can’t be bothered to research for my own blog, but – was he involved in the Mayors building on South Bank, too?  Probably not, but the design reminds me of that anyway.

The Little Giant on Day 2

Cut to this morning, and I’m in the search of giants.  Walking along Unter Den Linden (which roughly translates as “Tourists will buy anything”) is a lot like walking along tourist districts anywhere else in the world.  Huge imposing buildings filled with art and stolen treasures from all over the planet, and statues to fallen heroes scattered around wherever possible.  Alongside tourist (“I Love Berlin”) shops, and Starbucks are the expensive showrooms of Ferrari, and other “small c*ck” car manufacturers I can’t remember.  Some even have exclusive bars inside with bouncers on the door.  Walking boldly in, I was quite obviously turned away.

At either end of Unter Den Linden are the first sites for Die Riesen Kommen.  They’re really just teasers for the events that will follow tomorrow, and through the rest of the weekend much like the wooden spaceship that landed in London.  I finally found Schlossplatz to be the giant building site, opposite the giant cathedral I’d been using to shelter from the rain.  Schlossplatz, it appeared – was mostly a giant building site which would soon be home to the brand new Schlossplatz U-Bahn station.  Walking around it a couple of times I thought that maybe those crazy Royal De Luxe guys had caused this themselves.  Digging a giant cavern in the middle of Berlin seemed like just their sort of thing, but I was questioning whether they would have found city approval.

Then I heard screams of excitement off in the distance where I’d seen a small tent being built earlier – so rushed that way to find … another fenced off hole in the ground.  Taking their cue from the shows in Iceland, Royal De Luxe had engineered a geyser in the middle of Berlin spraying water 50-60 ft into the air every 5-10 minutes.  “Come stand over here for pictures” a helpful German student advised me.  “Hah”, I laughed, knowing it was right where the water had fallen minutes before.  “How about you stand here, I’ll just wait right here”.  As the water erupted high into the sky, I let loose on the camera, continuing to stay my ground as said water came crashing right down on top of me”.  Apparently the German student, found it particularly amusing.  “Never seen it go that way before”, he chuckled.  “Fuck off and die”, I thought.

The D90 rose to the challenge however, and after having a (cold) geyser thrown over it, I’m now sure it can perform well in almost all wet weather conditions.  The same can’t be said for my coat.