Want to know a secret? Last night as you were sleeping, Santa was having fun in the ski slope with a crazy parasail-skier, rocking some beats. And all the babies of his reindeer followed him, rocking the same beats through their super stylish headphones.
Of course.
(Selfridges’ shop window on Oxford Street, London, United Kingdom; November 2016)
The skies above Central Europe are crowded. Sometimes I can read the text painted on the airplane passing by. Fortunately, until now we have always been on slightly different heights. I wonder if the pilots have a way to greet each other, passing by?
(Somewhere above Europe; October 2016)
Antwerp, Italian food, and a meeting of minds. Last time it was in Kenya, 3 years ago. This time there was no sun, no dolphins, nor turquoise water. But there was soul food, creaky wooden beer house floors, and lots of laughter.
(Antwerp, Belgium; October 2016)
London City airport at rush hour. There is no fast track and no lounge, because everybody here is a frequent flyer entitled to a fast track and lounge access. To get food it is elbow technique that counts. Even if you are a City slicker banker. Or just a random business traveler, like me.
(LCY, London, United Kingdom; October 2016)
“Finally, in this greenery, Ulla stood as bride for the last time”
In the oldest restaurant in Stockholm the writing on the bathroom wall is by an 18th century poet-songwriter called Bellman. They are the last lines from a song describing a marvelous summer lunch out in the lush forest, by a spring.
Food and love always went hand in hand.
(Den Gyldene Freden, Stockholm, Sweden; October 2016)
I am quite certain this 400 year-old gasthaus was alive last night. Either that, or the cold made the house shrink very loudly. Perhaps it moved a little, too… crept closer to the waterfront, if only anybody bothered to find out.
Fall has come to Stockholm. The tired sun barely throws its blanket off to say good morning as we land. Soon it will not even have the energy to get out of bed until way past 9 am.
(Stockholm, Sweden; September 2016)
One last steamy noodle soup on Changi airport, followed by a lovely sticky choccie brownie in the Qantas First lounge. Seated between a lady with a huge Vuitton bag and immaculate tresses, and a gentleman executive of some global company, I felt quite the tramp with my dirty daypack, pink hoodie, and harem pants.
And then we were off, flying from SIN to HEL. Curled into my chair, with home-made woolen socks and a glass of champagne I thought of the past few weeks. For several reasons I don’t think I’ve ever cried as much on a holiday, but in many ways I have also been braver than ever before. It was a tough journey, but on these kinds of travels one meets many others who are or who have been on tough journeys. And it is especially those, who shine in spite of all adversities, that inspire to keep pushing the boundary between “can” and “can not”.
Now, laundry. Yes, I can.
(Above Russia; September 2016)
When you run out of space, go vertical. IKEA knows it, too. But nothing compares to how Asian metropoles go vertical. It seems to be quite expected to discover a resort on the rooftop of one’s apartment building: a multilayered pool like a maze, disappearing under shading palm trees; sun loungers and waterfalls and garden of flowers and butterflies; a gym; and naturally also a restaurant and a shop. In one condominium complex.
Save for a few palm fronds sticking over the rooftop edge, the secrets are only revealed if one lives higher up than one’s neighbors, or if one flies over the city. I wish we had more rooftop gardens in Finland, too. Street level gardens of apartment buildings are always too noisy and shaded, and usually focused on functionality (playgrounds and bicycle storages). But a secret oasis on the roof would be such a joy for every inhabitant – and perhaps it would even bring the reticent Finns to know their neighbors a little better.
(Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia; September 2016)
Drinks by the pool on the roof of the Traders Hotel, where neon lights dance in the swimming pool, fan-spun air ripples the water, and nobody falls in. Apparently nobody ever falls in. How very un-Finnish. (Oh, but this is Kuala Lumpur)
(Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia; September 2016)
10 years later, I was back in Kuala Lumpur. I had vowed never to return. Everything had been arranged and I did not have much of a choice. And so we woke up in KL one morning and, since one of my friends was a 1st time visitor, ended up on Petaling Street. The famous once-flea-market, now tourist-trap street with the red lanterns. And apparently under a glass roof, these days.
The shops lining the street did still sell traditional Chinese goods and foods, but the illegal copy industry of branded goods had taken over the whole street (how sad), save for a few stalls selling Indian print harem pants or street food. Otherwise it was sunglasses (Ray-Ban), “Louis Vuitton” bags, watches, “Gucci” T-shirts, and most, if not all, fake – of course. Apparently, if one is lucky one can find the real thing, sold on the street as an overflow product from a local factory. Most likely not, though, as such things would be sold in proper factory outlets, not out on Petaling Street.
How surprising to an (apparently) naïve person that the market for fake goods is large enough to carry a size of business of Petaling Street. Who buys all the quite obviously low-quality “Louis Vuitton” bags and “Dior” sunglasses? Asians? European or Australian tourists? What kind of social classes?
Every front side has a back side. The back (South) side of Petaling street is a jumbled mess. With up-and-coming hipster cafés like the Old China Café. Hipster. In KL, indeed. Next to fake luxury sunglasses, the search for authenticity snuggles close to the search for status at any cost.
It will be interesting to come back in 5 years time (of course only on idea level – I’m done with KL), to see how the presence of hipsters changes the offerings on Jalan Petaling. The crowd found in the cafés around Petaling seems to be of the somewhat well-off and well-educated lot, one that, when they choose to, would spend much money on things it cannot get from elsewhere. Perhaps there is yet hope for Petaling Street.
(Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia; September 2016)
This blue marble 