My Road-trip dreams..and never giving up!

By Deryn

Apr 8, 2020

Sibelius monumnet Helsinki showing organ pipes that are tree trunks of the forest

Photo Pixabay, Sibelious Monument,

Music becomes a voice for change

I have long believed that the arts serve purposes far beyond decoration. A painting can tell a story. A poem can preserve a memory. A novel can give a forgotten person a voice. Drama and dance are transient vehicles for storytelling. And music? Music can bring people together.  have seen something of this for myself in my travels. I have stood before the monument to Jean Sibelius in Helsinki, Finland, and I have visited Estonia. Standing in those places, knowing something of their history, gives a different meaning to the music. You begin to understand that these were not simply composers writing beautiful melodies. In times of oppression and uncertainty, music can become a vessel carrying the identity of an entire people.

Music when a nation finds its voice

Consider Finland. For more than six hundred years, Finland was part of the Swedish realm. In 1809, it passed from Sweden to the Russian Empire and became an autonomous Grand Duchy. During the nineteenth century, a growing Finnish cultural movement sought to strengthen a distinct national identity. The Kalevala compiled from Finnish oral poetry, became an important expression of that identity. Artists, writers, and musicians began to give Finland a language of its own, not necessarily a political language, but a cultural one.

Sculpture of Sibelious Head, Helsinki

Photo Pixabay, Sibelious Monument

Then came Sibelius. In 1899, during a period of increasing Russian pressure and attempts at Russification, Sibelius composed the music that would become Finlandia It was originally part of a series of historical tableaux presented at the Press Celebrations in Helsinki. The final section, known as “Finland Awakes,” stirred something deep in the Finnish people. Finlandia became a symbol of Finnish nationalism. When I stood before the Sibelius monument, I wasn’t just viewing a memorial to a famous composer. It reminded me of what happens when art helps people remember their identity. Sibelius helped give Finland a sound, and sometimes people need a sound before finding a voice. Organ pipes represented the trees of the forest; forests go deep into the psyche of the Finnish people, a voice that resonated with them.Estonian Music Festival Stand

Estonia sang its way toward freedom

I experienced a similar feeling when I visited Estonia. Domination by powerful neighbors has marked Estonia’s history, and during the Soviet period, language and national identity were under pressure. Yet Estonia had an extraordinary cultural treasure: its singing tradition.

The Singing Revolution of the late 1980s demonstrated just how powerful that treasure could become. Hundreds of thousands of Estonians gathered at the Tallinn Song Festival Grounds and sang traditional and patriotic songs together. They sang Mu isamaa on minu arm, “Land of My Fathers, Land that I Love,” a song that had become deeply associated with Estonian identity. They also sang the patriotic songs of composer Alo Mattiisen.Music of Estonian Dancers

Estonian Folk Dancers, Video - Deryn van der Tang

This was nonviolence; they were not taking up arms, they were raising their voices. By 1989, the movement had grown into the remarkable Baltic Way, when people in Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania joined hands in a human chain stretching across the three Baltic countries. Music had helped people remember they belonged to something larger than the political system that governed them.

The music that defied ruins

Then there is Sarajevo. During the terrible siege of Sarajevo in the 1990s, cellist Vedran Smailović became known as the “Cellist of Sarajevo.” After twenty-two people were killed while waiting for bread, Smailović returned to the devastated area and played Albinoni’s Adagio in G minor in their memory. Picture a city under attack. Amidst the broken buildings and people living in fear, a man sits with his cello and plays. The music could not stop the bombs, nor could it bring the dead back. But it declared something profound:

Beauty had not been destroyed. Human dignity had not been destroyed, and the human spirit had not been destroyed. That is the power of the arts.

Why do the arts matter?

When we talk about social change, we often think about politicians, protesters, legislation, and movements. And, of course, these matter. But underneath every movement is something deeper: a story about who we are and what we believe is worth preserving. Artists help us tell that story. A composer can give a nation a melody. Poets can preserve a language. Painters can capture a landscape that becomes part of a people’s memory. A storyteller can take the ordinary life of one family and reveal something universal about courage, suffering, and hope.

Perhaps that is why oppressive regimes have so often tried to control language, literature, music, and art. They understand something we sometimes forget: culture holds memory. And memory gives people identity.

The Bible tells us, “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver” (Proverbs 25:11).

Sometimes someone speaks, paints, sings, or writes that word.

The arts may not change the world overnight. Yet, they have the power to shift how people view the world. And once people see differently, they may begin to think differently, hope differently, and eventually act differently.

As I think about Finland, Estonia, and many other places I have traveled, I remember that the arts form a vital part of human society. They are part of our inheritance; they carry the stories of those who came before us. They inspire courage in those struggling today and plant seeds of hope for future generations. Perhaps that is why music has such extraordinary power.

A single voice may be silenced, a single instrument broken, yet a song alive in people’s hearts proves much harder to destroy.

And sometimes, when a people begin to sing together, the world begins to listen.

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My Mazda Campervan

This is the last of Denise McLaughlin's guest blogs for the current season. I want to thank her profusely for filling in the gap whilst I was travelling. Although, I am not yet home, I can now settle down to writing again. When I asked Denise to share her Festive Journey with my readers, it was because she is such a wonderful example of not letting life's circumstances get her down. Are her circumstances ideal? No of course not, but she has taken what she has and made it into the best she can. I just love this final blog about making her dream of travel come true. Please share this post with anyone you think can benefit from Denise's 'can-do' approach to her life's journey.

For 26 years this little blue Mazda Soho 1.3 has served me and my wanderlust well. For years it was time-share places and self-catering accommodation. I had however always yearned for longer road trips along the back roads into the beautiful countryside. I thought of the self-drive typical mobile campervan but knew it was beyond my means.
My longing for camper-van road trips, off-road adventures or in fact any kind of camping led me to binge-watch all the Youtube videos on conversions of this type. I discovered the wonderful world of camper-vans being converted from cars, panel vans and even buses. In the USA this kind of lifestyle is big!


Then I happened to see a South African video of a similar small car converted. This was apparently possible, and I set about finding this gentleman who lived about a three-hour drive from me. He agreed and invited me there to discuss the conversion of my Mazda Soho.
Not at all daunted I drove to his town, it felt like a real adventure! He had arranged for me to staying a caravan on a nearby farm. After he had measured my car up, and realising it could be done, I made the decision to leave the car there and come back on a taxi-like bus…in itself a brave thing to do as I live in a rather dangerous country- South Africa. However, the excitement of making this happen, drove me to take a chance – Nothing ventured- nothing gained! I arrived home safely.


Soon after the conversion I took my first solo trip and camped beside the wide Breede River in the Bonnievale area – a region of vineyards and fruit trees and prosperous farms. I spent two nights sleeping in my car – and waking up to the river right beside my window – magic. I felt so daring and free…I had a table top which served three purposes – either outside, on Ironing board like legs, or across the back where the hatch opens as a kitchen table but also as a bedside shelf for all my night time necessities. I had a comfy camping chair and a shiny new kettle to fit onto my minute little gas stove. After making the car into sleeping mode which is no mean feat – as you have to push the passenger seat far forward and down- then add the wooden extension for the bed, get your tog bag with clothes out of the way in front then place the sturdy cool box back to be under the bed, put up silver sunscreens at front and back windows- for privacy - my side windows have little vintage- looking curtains to draw. Then the table top comes in, lighting organised for reading which could be electric lamp, or several other lights – battery, LED’s, large torch or yes-in my case even a candle! (OK, I know that could be risky, but I am careful, and I do love the warm ambience it radiates.


While I am driving, I listen to music like Willie Nelson’s ON THE ROAD AGAIN and other favourites. What a glorious feeling to know I can stop when I like, go anywhere and am living my dream. My next stop was at Greyton, a quaint and lovely village but I instinctively knew; when I saw the campsite I had pre-booked, that I would not feel safe there. They actually gave my deposit back but then the fun and games started as the surrounding towns had no camping spots and my cell phone was losing battery power fast! After an inquiry at a police station, I drove further and luckily found a good spot near Stanford – another small town. This one had a wooden Wendy-house type of kitchen as a bonus. I ended up swimming in the river and got a passer-by to take the necessary photo of me…
To get back to the trimmings, I took an old duvet cover in a soft feminine pale blue pattern apart to cover the mattress of foam and the curtains- my idea of vintage!


My very handy tabletop was painted and decoupaged with travel slogans, maps and pictures it became quite a talking point with fellow-campers. So, with a nifty camper-car – good enough for solo road trips, I was ready to roll. Despite warning from friends re safety and security and the dangers of being a woman on the road, I can now say it works for me- and I feel much safer in my locked car than I would in a tent!
I remain delighted that this conversion was making camping road trips possible and very affordable! I can now live without those lovely big RV’s


Moral of the story - keep looking for ways to make your dream come true and take a risk if it will help. Do not let your age and mindset stop you from living your dream!

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