Roger Norum
Writer

Roger Norum


Writer

ABOUT ROGER

It’s a typical day in Finland, I presume. It’s 4am. The sun is shining brightly, and the woods around us are alive with wildlife. The eight of us are stood at the dockside of a still, clear lake. We’ve all had far too much to drink. We are all covered in peat mud. And we’re about as naked as we can be without being lewd. And then, as the accordion plays its first slow, woeful notes, we all begin to dance.

About Roger


Roger Norum (* 1974) lives in London. Educated at Cornell and Oxford Universities in languages and social anthropology, he worked in technology and translation before becoming a travel writer and anthropologist. He has contributed to publications such as Departures/Centurion, the Sunday Times Travel Magazine, and the Telegraph, and regularly writes a column on technology for Baltic Outlook Magazine. He currently holds a postdoctoral fellowship in the School of English at the University of Leeds, where he writes about tourism and travel writing narratives in the Scandinavian Arctic. Writing awards include:

  • BGTW Travel Writer of the Year Silver Medal (2010)
  • Travel Press Awards, Shortlisted Travel Photographer of the Year (2011, 2010, 2009)
  • BGTW Best Online Feature (2009)
  • Visit USA Assocation Best Online Feature (2009)

Roger Norum speaks


This autumn I am presenting at several academic conferences and workshops in Copenhagen, Reykjavik, Cluj-Napoca and Leeds. I will also be at World Travel Market in November in London.

Contact


Get to know me! You can find me at

At the end of a hushed dark alley several minutes past 3am, a naked 20-watt light bulb rocks to and fro inside a rickety wooden shed, spilling shadows onto the pile of cinder blocks and wood scraps in the corner. I enter the shed, knock once on the king-sized oak door and wait. The portal opens. The music erupts. And I am in another world - a thrumming speakeasy packed with the hip and the irreverently-dressed nursing tall lagers and chattering the night away, totally ignoring the fact that it’s a weeknight and that dawn is just around the corner. The entire room, illuminated only by candlelight, resonates with fantastic, bewildering music I can only describe as something a Turkish belly dancer might perform at a Russian wedding held in a Mayfair nightclub.