These are the Eastern suburbs of Helsinki from above, at night. The bright spot to the far left is Vuosaari harbor. The black triangle cutting in to the top third from the right side is Vartiokylä bay. I grew up running around it and taking a plunge at the end. When my family moved to this part of town in the early 80s, our street was unpaved and ended in fields of crops and horse stables. The houses were all built right after World War II. There was an old broken horse-pulled rake of some kind lying by the side of the road for years. There were meadows and forests and a brook.
Now most of that is gone. The brook is still there, protected. But the meadow is tiny, and the forests, fields, and horses are gone. I am glad I had a childhood where I got to climb trees, jump around in ice cold water, and roll around in the meadows. The kids who grow up there today will not have such a childhood.
(Helsinki, Finland; March 2018)
This was Helsinki in mid-March, caught underneath the ever-swirling polar vortex of the winter and spring of 2018. The cruise liner looks like one that shuttles between Helsinki and Tallinn, the capital of Estonia. All cruise liners on the Baltic Sea are icebreakers, too. One has to dress according to weather, you see.
After 6.5 years I was back in Amsterdam. It was beautiful, as always in spring, and every cell in my body screamed “get me out of here!!!”. For four days I stayed on the South side of the Singel, and mostly even on the South side of the Amstelkanaal. At least I got to explore areas new to me.
(Amsterdam, The Netherlands; March 2018)
What do you think, is this photo beautiful? Do you see light, color, and fluffy clouds matching the fluffy smoke? Or do you see a planet in destruction, no trees and no Nature anywhere?
Another bleak March morning, another flight to goodness knows where. I forget. Perhaps it was Copenhagen? Amsterdam? Munich? Mindful living was surely not within reach that morning. Shame on me.
One bleak Saturday we stopped by at the Helsinki Art Museum’s permanent exhibition of Tove Jansson’s works. You know, the author and artist behind all things Moomin. There were two large frescoes, one showcasing a party on the countryside and another a party in the city. All very 1940s post-war joy. And then I saw a little moomin, hiding away behind flowers and a glass of champagne. Right there, in a quite seriously adult piece of art.
(HAM, Helsinki, Finland; March 2018)
Another day on the job: deep diving (without a bath duck) into the German biotech ecosystem around Munich. Every now and then I remind myself of how grateful I am that somebody wants to pay me to do all this fun stuff.
I know it is late in the day and my brain is probably not at full capacity, but why is there a bath duck in Tirolean gear wedged into the shelf in my minibar?
In February the days are lighter already – and this past winter they were terribly cold, too. What a surreal feeling, then, to lounge in a tropical climate in a bathing suit, sipping cooling sparkling wine, and looking out at an icy winter coast landscape.
Nobody knows better how to chill on a Saturday morning than a cat. Or, preferably, two.
This blue marble 