Deep in what was once called “Little Arabia” and now renamed “Kampong Glam”, sits a lane that once was poor, then totally dead, and now a hipster mecca with artsy boutiques and little independent cafés and bars. The two-storey, colonial style buildings are decorated with street art and at night, music is booming. Here you can grab a cocktail, while a street down into the heart of “Little Arabia” you cannot find any alcohol (or non-halal food) at all.
This is Singapore: layers upon layers of culture, morphing into something new by quick swings of time. What once was dead is now the heart of cool. And in the midst of it all stand old buildings that have seen so many trends pass by. Not sure what they think of their current coat of paint. 
Singapore is ever-evolving, but it is also very orderly and safe. What else could it be if one is fined 300 SGD (170€) for eating a durian fruit at the hotel, 500 SGD (300€) for eating or drinking on the subway, and 2,000 SGD (1,200€) for smoking in the wrong place? Perhaps this is not the most constructive way to encourage good behavior, and it certainly is not the way to function in a positive space, but it works. This, combined with a pleasant and polite demeanor makes the busy society work at least in the superficial view of the visitor.
One cannot help but wonder if such is the only way? If threatening by proper punishment is the only way to “encourage” large masses to adhere to rules that make living pleasant for all? While waiting for a train at the MRT station I watched a video reminding me that molestation is a serious offence. Victims were encouraged to shout out for help, indicating they had been touched and by whom, and passers-by were encouraged to interfere. Molestation in Singapore is an Outrage of Modesty, punishable by prison AND caning. Yes, caning. In the 21st century. 
But as long as I do not eat durian or smoke, and nobody accuses me of molestation, I should be just fine with a glass of wine here on Haji Lane. And perhaps some Middle Eastern cuisine for dinner, while darkness descends on the golden domes of the Masjid Sultan mosque.
(Singapore; July 2018)
Hello Singapore! Finally not only a quick greeting after I breeze through Changi airport, but a proper 3-night stay. And where am I staying? Apparently, it’s all about “pods” these days. To the extent that some hostels sell beds covered with a curtain and call it a “pod”. But as I stay in a sleek, large business hotel nearly every week, an actual tiny-living pod seemed like a refreshing experience.
The views, the seating, the food, the cocktails (!), the service… I am not even sure what should be mentioned and what not. I seldom advertise for places, but Mr Stork has become a favorite in Singapore. As it is on the roof of a skyscraper you need to know where to look. 
And even if you do know where to look, finding your way up is not exactly easy. But if you manage, you may be rewarded with a drink out of an elephant cup (double yay for a paper straw!).
(Singapore; July 2018)
Today (yesterday, technically), after two days of intense packing and wrapping and preparing, I closed the door to the apartment for a long while. So long, Lauttasaari island. You have been wonderful to me. On Monday they will begin to tear out the bathroom and the pipes in the entire co-op building.
(Helsinki, Finland; July 2018)
Perhaps once this was a busy street, crowded with horse-drawn carriages, pedestrians in fine suits and long dresses, and dogs and children running around? Now it is simply quiet and idyllic, with greens shooting up between the cobblestones that get to rest most of the day.
How often do you look down when you walk? Probably every day. And how often do you actually see what is right down there in front of your nose? If you are in Italy, it is highly likely you are missing out on something much more beautiful than just asphalt and pavement. Italian floors are exquisite. The one above is in the Duomo but I walked over so many beauties outdoors in Genoa.
(Milan, Italy; July 2018)
In the midst of showers there was a day without rain in Milan. A late afternoon where the tables were waiting for dinner decking and where the shoppers had already gone home for a quick siesta before aperitifs.
(Milan, Italy; July 2018)
Plastered, ochre and sand-colored houses with moss green window shutters. Stone slab pavement. A few potted plants. Sparrows chirping in the alleys. A group of locals having pasta with wine for lunch underneath a parasol. Bordighera must have been the same already centuries ago. 
A century ago one could reach Bordighera from Paris in “just” 24 hours, and London was not much further away. Claude Monet found much to paint in the stillness of hot, languid Bordighera summer days. George MacDonald came over to warm his Scottish bones and to write of fantastical, sometimes dark places while sitting in the shade from the scorching sun.
(Bordighera, Italy; July 2018)
This blue marble 