Ten minutes in the sunshine was all I had, before crawling back inside for yet another session. My ten minutes were less than a blink in the time of the manor, standing for 200 years on a foundation 500 years old. If time is an illusion, how many comedies, tragedies, and lifetimes happened all at once when I walked over the grounds?
(Aspenäs manor, Lerum, Sweden; September 2014)
Summer warmth during the day does not fool anyone. The green grass by the waterline has a yellow tint and the half-submerged rocks are the lone companions of waves now that the water birds are gone. Only the dogs dare to swim.
While summer chooses to drop the battle and regain strength, elsewhere another fierce battle prevails. Victory has only one hand to extend, and after the game is over the dogs may not be the only ones swimming.
(Helsinki, Finland; September 2014)
Any given Thursday one could sit holed up in the office with the colleagues, or one could hike in the woods with the colleagues. For those courageous ones who venture deep enough into the wilderness, reindeer may appear.
(Nuuksio national park, Espoo, Finland; September 2014)
When the September sun lay low over the wheat fields we drove into town for a moment of music. As the last light wandered across the window, the church filled with crisp snow falling, bears and wolves wandering in deep pine forests, Nordic mythical beings dancing, and always, always an ominous backdrop layered under a wistful allure.
Many composers painted feelings. Jean Sibelius covered the canvas with nature landscapes. Sitting in the church pew I wondered whether Sibelius was a painter or a composer. Perhaps he saw tones where painters saw colors. Perhaps he was the most skilled painter, able to do what canvas painters never could: a bear illustrated by sound will ultimately conjure an image of a live, moving bear in our minds.
While dusk overtook the sunset, the double basses unleashed the bear’s heavy walk in the woods, followed by the celloes that sketched a fox trotting over the grass. And then the creatures were gone, overtaken by the wind in the pine trees, and my contemplations of the sinister undertow and what the inner world of Sibelius must have contained.
(Loviisa, Finland; September 2014)
The best beds in town. The best cocktail bar in town. The best lounge for working, chatting with friends, or just lounging. The loveliest bistro, most delicious breakfast, and most attentive room service.
And quirky angels in every room. 
(Nobis Hotel, Stockholm, Sweden; September 2014)
The manor had seen war, and hosted wounded soldiers. It had survived a siege and arrest of a rebel after being stripped of its handsome garden statuettes. When nobody cared about the past, and the future was spearheaded by the Olympics, somebody had the grand idea of clearing the Helsinki streets of drunkards and shooing them into the manor. Out of sight is out of mind, except for the house that diligently cared for them for forty years.
Two decades later the house cares for those who wish to escape, or gather, or simply breathe. Opening the creaking door I discovered a room more like a salon. Oh! the oriental rugs, the heavy chinz, the enormous crystal chandelier! And yet, how newly it all had been restored. Sinking down on the downy bed I stared out of the window, over the lawn towards the stream floating by. Garrison, hospital, drunk ward – in the storm of progress the appreciation of the past is often waved away. When space was the new tomorrow in the 1960s, all hardwood floors were covered with linoleum and everything that reminded of days gone by was swiftly cleared away.
Time, as we perceive it, only moves forward, but there is a major change in the third-millennial minds compared to the Atomic Age. We preserve traditions, restore old houses, and attempt to return to nature and pure values. I could not help but wonder: in this ever-accelerating world of ours, where technology races alongside science and our greedy minds, when, and how, did we end up appreciating the past, legacy, and crystal chandeliers?
(Hirvihaara manor, Mäntsälä, Finland; September 2014)
Hello Norway, you look good coated in gold. You make me forget we were just tossed around like a candy wrapper in the wind.
(Norway; August 2014)
Each morning as I stepped down into the hotel lobby, this rhino was dolefully observing the guests from a different spot. Perhaps the hotel houses elves cart the poor thing around the halls at night?
Never do I leave Gothenburg without a cinnamon roll the size of a pizza plate from Café Husaren. And this time also a gigantic chocolate meringue that barely fit into a lunch salad box. Until next time, when I intend to sample the EP-sized chocolate cookie.
(Gothenburg, Sweden; August 2014)
Swedish humor: build a hotel in a post office, take a Norwegian post car, bulldoze it flat, and hang it on the wall.
(Clarion Hotel Post, Gothenburg, Sweden; August 2014)
Last year was quite the drama at Small Ships’ Race. Boats capsized in the wind and it was truly a game for only those who knew how to sail. This year was just another beautiful blue warm breezy summer day. Perfect for a leisurely game followed by a party on the landing. Once again I marveled at the ability of small town folk to dance, jump, and kiss like they were unknown to everybody – until the next day when the rumors began to gain color and momentum.
In a small town like Loviisa one’s business is everyone’s business. Except for the strawberries and cava in the orchard – only ours to enjoy!
(Loviisa, Finland; July 2014)
This blue marble 