Filming & Badmouthing

This is model Andrea from yesterday’s film project shot at Kungsparken/Slottsparken here in Malmö and themed on autumn and on change. While work is piling up on my desktop, I’d almost be committing high treason if I didn’t take advantage of the breathtaking weather and outstanding color pageant we’re being treated to right now.

Just to get a feel for the light, gear and milieu early yesterday before I started filming, I composed the portrait above (and few others) using my primary lens, the Zeiss 85mm at f2 and a shutter speed of 800.

The rest of the morning’s shoot with Andrea (22) and Kerstin (82) went really well. We wrapped at noon and as soon as I have a little time to start editing the material (captured on the Sony and the Mavic), I’ll publish the autumn themed short film here. So stay tuned!

And now a little note on something that’s been lingering for a while…

I love taking portraits. Both on location and in a studio environment. Over the years, I’ve shot several hundred portraits, and though admittedly, there have been a few duds, everyone bombs once in a while, the vast majority of my clients have been very pleased with my work and returned over and over again. The praise I received for my portraits in last year’s 240-page interview/portrait book about the folks working behind the scenes at Malmö Opera was constantly positive.

I mentioned this only because I have a former client I’ve heard has badmouthed me by claiming I shouldn’t be hired for anything other than photographing buildings and landscapes. That I am terrible at taking portraits. I’m assuming that he’s been saying this because of his discontentment with portraits I’ve taken of him in the past. As experienced as I am and as untrue as such a bold statement is, it’s nonetheless hurtful to hear it. Especially when you hear it second hand – both on a personal level but also the implications of shoveling bullshit like that could have on me professionally. I think the guy’s critique is unfair and unjustified.

Now, I don’t mean to be mean, but this fellow has really bad, but certainly not irreparable, teeth. They’re all over the place and regardless of how he smiles with an open mouth, his choppers just stand out like a cluster of sore thumbs. He’s a tall, athletically built dude with a reasonably good posture and hairdo, but as successful as he is at what he does, the thought of having his teeth fixed/straightened/whitened has apparently never come to mind. I don’t know if it’s because he’s a scrooge or just doesn’t want to acknowledge that his smile would look so much more pleasant if he just invested a few buckaroos to fix them. I’m surprised that no one close to him has suggested, or, at least hinted, that he should perhaps talk to a dentist about this.

Just to be perfectly clear, I’m not saying that fixing the guy’s teeth would instantly improve him photogenically. But I don’t think his self-confidence would suffer from such a procedure. And I think it’s just that, his insecurity, that makes him such a difficult client to please. And more importantly, at least from my point of view as a photographer, a little dental work would make the life of anybody shooting him a helluva lot easier.


Not so Hot Yoga

Woke up at 05:00 am again this morning, right before my alarm’s snooze reminder set in. Slept well and felt refreshed as I went through a 75 minute yoga session in our home office. I’d rolled out the yoga matt last night to help remind me (and motivate). Starting the morning in an energizing way usually makes all the difference to how I mentally tackle the bombardment of the day’s challenges and accomplishments.

This morning I practiced Bikram yoga with two sets of the 26 designated poses and integrated a couple of Hatha and Ashtanga positions as well in my usual mixtape fashion. I’d turned the room’s heater up to max, but it was nowhere near as hot or humid as it should be. I might have to invest in a small heater to put the “hot” back into hot yoga.

I’m still in awe of how much better I feel after a yoga session. After so many years of running myself silly outside or on a treadmill at the gym and lifting/pulling/pushing weights. I might not be building much muscle mass with my not-so-hot-yoga session – but the benefits are certainly paying off by flushing lubricating fluids throughout my ligaments and joints. For me, right now, anyway, it’s all about reducing stiffness and allowing me to feel flexible and agile.I took the image above at Kata Hot Yoga in Phuket a few weeks ago.


Blackkklansman

About a year ago, on the parking lot where Washington Boulevard ends and the Venice Beach pier begins, at the most western point of Los Angeles county, I happened to walk pass the film director Spike Lee. As our eyes connected for a second or two, I heard myself say reflexively, “Love your work, man”. Mr Lee acknowledged me with a nod, smiled and said, “Thank you, man”. Visit L.A. often enough, and you’re bound to brush against famousfolks in the film industry from time to time.

I continued walking across the lot with the surfboard under my arm towards the north side of the pier where steady sets of crystal clear, four foot waves were beckoning. By the time the cold Pacific Ocean had reached the wetsuit’s waistline, thoughts of my brief encounter with one of the world’s most respected directors, had been replaced with anticipation of the curling waves in front of me. Fact is, I hadn’t thought much of the short episode until yesterday evening when a friend and I saw Spike Lee’s latest film, BlacKkKlansman.

The movie’s plot centers on Ron Stallworth,(played by Denzel Washington’s son, John David Washington) the first African-American police detective in Colorado Springs, who came up with a genius way of going undercover to investigate a local Ku Klux Klan chapter. The movie takes place in the late 1970s and is based on Ron Stallworth’s experiences written in his memoir, Black
Klansman.

I thought the movie was really good. It was funny and suspenseful and had a brilliant cast. It’s a Hollywood studio film, but one with more sensibility than I’ve seen in many, many years. Some might find the depiction of the klansman as clichéd, but from my limited experience of talking to folks that have bought into contemporary conservative rhetoric, it’s now really just a fine line that separates the two.

Slowly paving the way for discriminatory values to become acceptable opinions was the film’s most important message.

The epilogue, with scenes from the Charlottesville demonstrations and murder of 32 year oldHeather Heyer by neo-nazi James A. Fields, left the entire theater completely silent. I’ve never experienced that before and I think it was a bold idea by Mr Lee. It sadly reminded us that though progress has been made, there is no doubt that racism in the US is still rampant. And I’d have to be mentally impaired to not see how the current president is directly and indirectly fueling a fire that should of been extinguished long ago.

The photo above is fitting insofar that it was shot right outside of Venice Beach police station one early morning a few years ago as I was heading to or from Breakwater, one of the most popular surf spots between Santa Monica and Vencie piers.


Broadchurch

It’s getting darker for every day here in northern Europe now. Temperatures are still relatively humane and I hope the colorful foliage on our garden’s trees and in Malmö’s parks last for a few more weeks. I’ve been shooting a lot in Slottsparken recently and have a neat little autumn film project in the works.

If you’re a Netflix subscriber like me, mid-autumn means it’s a great time to discover and binge-watch a couple of drama series – as means to sneakily ease yourself into accepting that we’ll all be spending more time indoors than outdoors for the next 5-6 months. 

A Brittish friend on our street recently recommended Broadchurch and I’m already halfway through the first of three seasons.

The plot isn’t spectacularly original or terribly riveting, the opposite is probably a more appropriate discription. Which is concurrently exactly what makes the show so intriguing. Like many Brittish dramas that unfold somewhere in the Brittish countryside, or, in this case along the southeast coast, near Dorset, it’s the amalgamation of mundanity coupled with the privilege of unbridled voyeurism that pulls you in to the town of Broadchurch and the well-played characters seemingly ordinary lives. Like a good Agatha Christie novel or film, the show spends a generous amount of time establishing the main characters and then allows for ample time so they can be self-implicated suspects in the ongoing murder case

Fans of the The Night Manager and The Crown will enjoy yet another wonderful performance by Olivia Colman in Broadchurch as tough but warm-hearted detective Ellie Miller. The image above is from a small lighthouse not far from where we live.


Twenty Years of Email, Oh My!

I shot this dramatic storm front a few years ago. It hovered over our street for a few minutes and then moved on, dropping a torrential downpour just a few km north of us. I don’t think I’ve ever published the photo here on the site and as I’m soon about to rearrange our company’s domain structure a bit, I figured why not use it to illustrate some nostalgia.

I registered the domain www.raboff.com in 1998 without thinking too much about what I was doing. It just seemed like a good move to secure my last name before anyone else did. I’d bought an expensive network-enabled Macintosh Performa 630 a few years earlier and had found loads of uses for it. It allowed me to scan photos for art projects, research subjects I was lecturing on as an instructor at Gothenburg International Hospitality College and it helped me prepare for classes I taught as a substitute teacher at Vuxengymnasiet. I loved that little computer and it served me well for a few years. It was my second Mac after the portable but less useful Powerbook 100 that I’d bought six years earlier. If I had to guess, I’d say there have been at least 15 Apple branded computers since the Performa.

Anyway, back to the mid 1990s. This is when I collaborated a great deal with Johan, a Swedish-English fellow who was much more web savvy than I but both us felt super excited about all the possibilities the Internet could unleash. We weren’t visionaries by any stretch of the imagination, except perhaps in our own minds, but there was no doubt that we saw the seemingly unlimited potential of what could be accomplished with so many people connected to each other.

Where most of the domains on the World Wide Web were still in a very primitive stage insofar that layout and design was terrible to look at and sites were clunky and unwieldily to navigate, Email was a powerful communication tool that was graphically mature, sleek almost, and most importantly, offered a user-friendly means of communicating to friends and family all over the world. After logging on via the modem’s blinks, blips and beeps, emailing someone felt relatively instantaneous and therefore tremendously gratifying. You couldn’t use your landline simultaneously once you were online, though.

I vividly remember how launching my dedicated email application Eudora and then watching new messages pop up in my inbox was hypnotically exciting stuff. And above all, when compared to message boards, an email could be made endlessly personal by attaching photos, illustrations and even dingbats. I could easily spend hours on end writing and editing emails and waiting for answers to arrive with Eudora’s tinny chime.

Somewhere in the depths of our storage room, I know Charlotte has archived a tidy collection of printed emails that I sent her in those early days of our relationship. And I’m sure Elle will love reading through a few of them sometime in the future. I think my very first email address was burp@pp.telia.se

Hard to believe that twenty years have passed since that email address meant anything.

Sadly, email seems to be heading towards the same pasture as the dodo bird. I’m sounding like a crumugeon now, but I can’t see how the various chat and messaging apps are worthy replacements for a well-crafted email. Which is likely exactly how folks feel that prefer handwritten letters over those written digitally.

 

Eudora Email

 


A panic visit to IKEA and why I’m not a fan of the retail experience

When Apple launched their own brick and mortar stores several years ago, like many other curious visitors and potential customers, I thought their concept was blissfully brilliant. I’ve used Apple computers as my tools of choice for close to three decades. My main argument for paying the premium “Apple tax” has always been that their computers (and other gadgets) have facilitated my creative expression without getting in the way of it. Theoretically, you could run a marathon in wooden clogs. But who the fuck would want to do that?

It was easy to get seduced by the new Apple stores. Unlike any other computer retailer, they were sparsely furnished and roomy, beautifully lit and had giant hands-on tables for trying out the company’s shiny new computers and iPods. I loved the idea with the Genius Bar and the Theatre (found mostly in flagship stores) where Apple experts would demonstrate and teach how to use the company’s software. Interacting with Apple’s retail staff was usually pleasurable, if a bit weird in a “Truman Show” kind of way. The store’s locations were always great, too. Like the Apple store in the old post office on Prince Street and the glass cube on 5th Avenue in New York. Of course, as Apple’s hardware became increasingly popular, the stores got really crowded. Especially during peak shopping hours and throughout most of the holiday season. Overall, I think the retail experience has become increasingly unpleasant and burdensome. There’s too many people and way too many colors, signs and bling trying to grab my attention – and mall/store layouts that are convoluted and confusing to navigate through (obviously designed to keep you in the store as long as possible and thereby increase spending). I see it as a necessary evil when I’m “forced” to get something at a shopping center. Adn it only takes but a few minutes for me to feel mentally saturated from all the stimuli.

For several years now and on an almost daily basis, I’ve been an avid online shopper. I buy all kinds of stuff, including (but not limited to) food, clothes and shoes. I even buy furniture, cameras and related gear and book flights and make hotel reservations – all online and always at my convenience using just my fingertips. My family insists that I’m addicted to shopping at Amazon UK and to a lesser degree at Ebay UK. And they’re right. Unlike the stereotypical male, I actually enjoy shopping – as long as it’s online where the experience is both calmer, easier and faster. And even if I can’t feel the products being browsed physically, I think it’s a tremendous benefit to be able to read reviews from folks that have already purchased and tried them out. Given that many of Amazon’s reviews are bogus and probably written by the company selling them (or, if negative, by a competitor). Shop online long enough, I find that you’ll eventually hone in on which reviews are real and the fakes. It’s all part of the online research process that I’ve become accustomed to and enjoy. Admittely, I screw up once in a while. Maybe in a year I’ll have 3-4 returns. That’s all.

Yesterday, I had to return a few things to IKEA that Charlotte had bought for my new art space. It was Saturday and marvelous weather, so we figured most folks would be outdoors, enjoying what might just well be one of the last sunny days of the year. Nothing could have been wronger than that figuring. The store was so swarming with visitors, that I had to continually dodge, lunge and leap to make the slightest progress along the “snake” (IKEA-speak for the arrow marked path that wiggles customers through the store).

Ironically, the amount of visitors at IKEA yesterday afternoon was negligable when compared to just about any department store in Asia. But after the morning’s long run along an empty beach, I suppose I was taken aback by the slow-moving crowds at the furnishing giant’s behemoth warehouse. So, I had a mini panic attackk and just wanted to get out of there asap. For some reason, maybe after quitting coffee over 5 weeks ago, my sense of smell has improved considerably. And as I was passing through the various departments on my way to the cashiers (where Charlotte was waiting patiently for me), I sensed a strong odor of plastic and glue, as if much of the thousands of products displayed had just arrived from the factories without having been aired properly. It got me thinking about the scale of such operation, the turnover of products and all the micro-particles of solvents, paints and adhesive fumes that must be constantly flying around in the warehouse – and inhaled by the many young and old, unsuspecting visitors and workforce. I wonder what the lungs of those that work there look like after a few years. Where is Hans-Günter Wallraff, by the way?

About a decade ago, I spent 5-6 years consulting on various internal projects at IKEA, primarily in Älmhult, but also in Delft/Holland. I worked mostly as a creative coach helping out with communication and marketing campaigns. It was interesting, but in the long run, more taxing to my health than fiscally rewarding. I met the founder, Ingvar Kamprad on a few occasions. The guy had huge hands and a friendly smile.

I’ve always thought of IKEA as the McDonalds of the furniture world and that the humble tone they want customers to hear is a really genious marketing ploy aimed at adding artficial heart and warmth to their sales pitch. Kind of like the Ronald Mcdonald clown. At its core, IKEA is like any other multinational corporation, no matter how hard they try to humanize the brand with a sweet voice that sounds caring and thoughtful. The bottom line is and always will be; profit first.

On the one hand, it’s hard not to admire IKEA’s enormous success. They are by far the largest and most successful furniture compnay in the world. But when you step back a bit and allow yourself to contemplate the real price for their long-term goals and the extremely negative environmental impact their concept of, “providing a range of home furnishing products that are affordable to the many people, not just the few”, and how the implications of such a bold mission statement imposes enormous resource demands on the planet, it’s kind of disgusting. Read the lastest report from the United Nations on how bad shape the planet could be in as soon as 2040.

Even if we forget the massive amounts of fosil fuel needed to produce and transport the company’s wide range of offerings, most of the products from IKEA are in one way or another either made from or dependent on really bad-for-the-planet plastics, glues, paints and other toxic materials and ingredients. Then add that most, but not all, of the company’s 10,000+ products are designed and produced primarily for large-scale production (to keep prices low/increase profit profit margins) and that the company still doesn’t have a serious recycling policy in place, it becomes crystal clear that IKEA is not genuinly interested in being a Earth-friendly corporate citizen. The company’s management just doesn’t care enough to warrant changes that might decrease profitability and hinder their ambitious growth strategy. I’m not saying that Walmart, Amazon, ILVA or other furniture companies are better than IKEA. But it’s sad that the leader of the pack isn’t doing more to show sincerity and take leadership in environmental issues that impact us all. If the most well-known and profitable furniture company in the known universe can’t come up with a few truly innovative ideas to substantially reduce their pollution and increase sustainability, we’re pretty much screwed.

Like many consumers these days, we’re trying to make a consistent effort to refrain from shopping goods that haven’t been recycled or are manufactured in a way that is considerate of the planet’s limited resources and our environment. Yet I’m the first to admit there’s still plenty of room for improvement on our part.

Unlike IKEA and most other successful consumer-oriented brands that I can think of right now, only just a few companies like Patagonia and Apple own a clear vision and have taken a firm stance with their environmental policies. Their eco-friendly positioning adds value to their brand, their products and services as well as makes such good business sense that it’s apparently worth pursuing full-on. Incidentally, most of Apple’s efforts have been implemented under Tim Cook’s leadership. I don’t think Steve Jobs really gave a shit about the environment. And I don’t think that Ingvar Kamprad did, either. Not really. Not sincerely.

Where IKEA uses clever PR fluff and barely measurable, incremental efforts (in the grand scheme of things) to try to convince us they are in fact doing their veru best and really, really do care about the planet, Apple has been pushing the sustainability envelope for several years and just recently announced groundbreaking commitments that will lessen their environmental footprint even more – like improving the quality of their products so they last longer. So, yes I admire Apple for more than just the quality and thoughtfulness they put into their products. For a corporation, they have soul and heart.

We talk a about stuff like this at home. Not every dinner, but the topic of sustainability comes up now and again. And when it does, it often pertains to food and clothes. We travel a great deal for work (and pleasure) and there is no denying we should at least fly less if we really wanted to reduce our own carbon footprint. Being consequential isn’t easy for a mere consumer. That said, I think it’s important to be mindful about companies we buy from and the food we eat and clothes we wear. Hopefully Elle will absorb some of our discussions and create her very own mission statement.

Shot the beautiful Malmöhus Slott above yesterday afternoon. There’s something about that castle that I love. Maybe because it was where Elle and I spent so many weekends when she was a child. Maybe it’s because the structure itself somehow represents an echo of historic sustainability that resonates with me.


Post Asia xsMAX 10k

Mrs Raboff and I went for a wonderfully energizing 10k run this morning in what I think was the best possible weather; zero wind and 12 °C/53 °F with a little sunshine – just to add some color to our path along the beach. It was my first run in a while and though relatively slow paced, I feel good to have completed the challenge. Running with 6kg less around the waist seem to make it a little easier on my knees and ankles.  Could also be my imagination. We’ll see later today how sore they arenike-run-club

The beach run here in Malmö is nothing short of phenomenal. Especially on days like this when it’s so sublimely placid. After being utterly immersed in hyper-intense Bangkok – where over 8 million people dwell – an early morning run on an empty beach felt surreal. By the time we reached the halfway point, in Limhamn somewhere, and were on our way back to Västra Hamnen, we met dozens of colorfully dressed joggers of all ages and strides.

I ran with the new iPhone Xs Max in my pocket and took the above/below shots with it. The new dual camera’s larger sensors, new image signal processor and neural engine chip produce images with an astonishing amount of dynamic range. Face ID unlocks the phone seamlessly and though a whole different UX (user experience), I’m already up to speed navigating throughout iOS12 using the intuitive swiping gestures.

ribersborgs kallbadhus

 


Hotel Beds & New Art Studio

At hotels, I often find myself thinking about all the thousands of folks that have slept in the exact same bed that I’m going to be sleeping in. Thankfully it’s a fleeting thought, because by indulging too much on this topic, one might feel less inclined to stay at hotels.

Over the last five weeks, I’ve slept in five different beds. Interestingly, each one has been much better than the previous. The mattress I slept on during my 10 day Bikram Yoga challenge just barely qualified as a bed. It was hard as hell and had pillows that were anything but comfortable. I have no idea what they were stuffed with. Shredded cardboard? But I just sort of added the sleeping discomfort to the rest of my ongoing challenge.

Unsurprisingly, none of the five beds I slept on came remotely close to offering the same level of repose as our bed at home does – though the king size mattress at the Peninsula came fairly close, mostly thanks to linnen that was softer than what we sleep on/in. But on the other hand, we never use softeners or mangle our linnen.

I think one of the key factors to our bed’s luxurious feel are the two extra thick, double mattresses and the top layer mattress, all from Hilding Anders. We enjoying sleeping a bit elevated and so both Charlotte and I have to literally jump a little to get up on the bed.

Our sleeping kit didn’t cost as much as even the least expensive from Hästens, but far exceeded the most costly (but not nearly as good) solution from IKEA. We’ve also invested heavily on quality pillows. A couple of years ago I discovered (via Amazon UK) that the best reviewed, eco-friendly and hypoallergenic pillows were those filled with shredded bamboo fibers. So we have two of those, four extra large down pillows from Swedish brand Stunda and two wide down comforters from Danish Illum Bolighus – just to ensure our bed offers a pleasurable 360 degree experience all year round

After more than a year of working out of our home office, I’ve now moved into a new art studio/gallery about a 7 minute walk from our condo on Sundspromenaden. The space is considerably smaller than all of my previous places, but it’s only a temporary solution until we’ve figured out what part of the world we want to relocate to next year. So for now, this place will do nicely. I’m quite excited about working in this new space and the creativity it’ll hopefully facilitate.

I’ve owned a bunch of easels over the years. Might even have bought my very first one as far back as in 1986. I bought my latest easel from a art supplier in Germany via Ebay UK (while on Phuket Island) and it arrived ahead of time – while I was still in Asia. I assembled it yesterday afternoon relatively easily and it feels stable enough to hold a sizable canvas. Paints and brushes arrived a few days ago and all I need now are a few canvases. And some ideas…

The flowerpot and surrounding nishikigoi (koi or carp) above are from the hotel Shinta Mani in Cambodia where we stayed one week ago and where the bed was good if not great.

Han Solo on Thai Airways

Home again after an eventless night flight home from Suvarnabhumi Airport on a Thai Airways Boeing 777. The cabin was almost full, but Charlotte and I got really lucky and each had three seats to ourselves (and sat right behind one another). We both managed to sleep for about 6-7 of the 10,5 hour, 8640 kilometer distance. As we filed through “monkey class” and then saw how relatively small and cramped the pricey Business Class seats were (the 777 was a bit long in the tooth), I think we actually slept more comfortably.

During a couple of the flight’s remaining hours I re-watched “Solo: A Star Wars Story”, the franchise’s spinoff prequel tale of Han Solo, the charming scoundrel, daredevil pilot, and captain of the spaceship, the Millennium Falcon. Despite Ron Howard directing, Woody Harrelson starring and mostly solid performances by a cast of live action and CG actors, the film’s still gotten mixed reviews. I thought it was entertaining and provided an interesting backstory for a few of the original trilogy’s characters. Then again, I’ve been a fan of most of the Star Wars feature films ever since I was a kid.

As the plane descended and started its path towards Kastrup International Airport, we could see that the rainy autumn weather wasn’t too different from when we took off from Bangkok, ten hours earlier. Aside from the sun peeking out for a few mintues and the 20 degree drop in temperature, that is. It’s nevertheless good to be home. I’ve signed a lease for a new creative hub/gallery/art studio. and can’t wait to get started working on it.


Yoga & Breakfast thoughts

Soon time to move on. Back to reality. However that’s defined. It’s been an amazing journey with plentiful of cerebral and physical challenges. I’ve not only discerned how to modulate my eating habits, in the process I also added a slew of demanding new yoga poses to my growing collection.

I’m finally at a point where I can either keep true to what I’ve learned from classes in Vinyasa, Hatha, Yin or Bikram yoga, or create a “greatest hits” with poses from each. I love being free and independent with my training and not always having to adhere to class schedules and poorly curated playlists.

There is no singular yoga teachings, though there are definitely some that try to institutionalize yoga as if it was yet another religion. Being the sceptic that I am, I refuse to see yoga as being anything more than a great physical workout. Plain and simple. Any other benefit that you feel afterwards – mentally, spiritually – is a result of the exertion you put your body through. And to not see how all of the different types of yoga schools originally stem from an ancient collection of poses and breathing techniques, is just naive. Yoga is believed to have been created some 5000 years ago by so-called yoga masters. There is some research that argues yoga is actually even twice as old but was for several millennia guarded and held secret, dense with mysticism and hokus-pokus.

When yoga became more mainstream and less occult, the yogis of the time created a system of practices designed specifically to rejuvenate the body and prolong life. They rejected the ancient teachings and embraced the idea that it was through the physical body one could finally achieve a clear mind.

This morning I went to the gym hoping that I’d find a place where I could roll out my thick rubber mat and start the day with an hour long Bikram yoga session. The gym here at the Peninsula is well-equipped, but somewhat compact. There was just no way it could have accommodated me. Luckily, the manager for the hotel’s fitness and spa happened to be there and he chaperoned me to the tennis courts where I found a sunlit spot perfectly suited for sweaty yoga.

After my session, a shower and shave, I met Charlotte down by the river restaurant where the Peninsula’s grandeur breakfast buffet awaited. As I sat there, eating from a full plate of local fruits and sipping on freshly made, chilled mango juice, I noticed an elderly American couple pass by a few times as they retrieved food from the voluminous buffet. I’d spoken with them in the elevator the day before, so I waved to them during one of their round trips.

Looking at them got me thinking about all the hotels I’ve stayed at in the US and how most American hotels don’t even offer a breakfast option, let alone include one that would come even close in quality or scope of what the Peninsula (or, any of the other nearby hotels) offer for breakfast. And if you were to stay a night at an equivalently plush hotel in midtown or lower Manhattan, near the beach in Miami, Chicago, San Francisco or Los Angeles, the comparison, the room rate would be astronomically higher. Obviously you can’t compare the two places. But I still find it remarkable how here in Asia and in most of Europe, breakfast is almost always included in the room rate, while in the States it ain’t. Strange.


River Timelapse

I still get excited when I see timelapse clips. There’s something that just grabs my attention and spellbinds me. So, when I saw the crazy river view we have from our room, I couldn’t resist throwing up my suction cup with a gopro mounted on the room’s panoramic windows and start capturing timelapses from a few different angles. As can be seen, the bustling Chao Phraya River still plays an incredibly important part as a transportation throughway for Bangkok.


The Peninsula Bangkok

Back now from a four day assignment for Hotell Addict in Cambodia where we documented one of Bill Bensly’s smart, quirky and immensely comfy design hotels, Shinta Mani in Siem Reap. As part of the gig and to add some context to the hotel, we re-visited Angkor Wat and a few of the many temples in the UNESCO area. Visits which we shared with so many, many others…

Today we’ve spent most of the afternoon by the pool after having unpacked our stuff in a spacious room on the 18th floor at The Peninsula Bangkok. Up until today, this was the only hotel with 5 stars along the Chao Phraya River that we hadn’t stayed at. So it feels great to have checked in here so we can check off the Peninsula from our most wanted hotel list. Just remembered that Charlotte and I stayed a few nights at the Peninsula Beverly Hills about 15 years ago. The river view here in the Thai capital is far superior than what we had in Beverly Hills.

Having worked at several hotels in a previous career, none of which came even close to Bangkok’s premium properties like The Peninsual Bangkok, I can still totally relate to the workplace as such. I distinctly remember the sense of camaraderie and working together within a large team. The Peninsula has a staff of roughly 1000 and so, wherever you turn, there’s always a friendly smile and someone to lend a helping hand if you need it.

This morning, during breakfast at Shinta Mani, Charlotte and we experienced a young fellow whom went so extraordinarily overboard with his willingness to be service-minded, that I finally felt compelled to tell him to take a break and leave us alone for at least ten minutes. That’s never happened before and though I was as polite as could be, I didn’t try real hard to veil my displeasure. I was convinced that he’d catch my drift and pull back a few steps. But no! A minute or two later there  he was, right back at it, pouring our tea cups full to the brim – even though we’d only had a sip since the last time he refilled them just a minute earlier, and trying to clear off plates from the table that we clearly hadn’t finished eating from. Had it not been so darn early, we might have seen the farcicality of this over-zealous waiter. But in my mind, there was just no question that someone in HR had totally screwed up when they hired this strange fellow.

I wholeheartedly hate when staff in the hospitality industry are submissive and subservient. Which is why I like it so much here at the Peninsula and the 140-year old Grand Dame (aka the Oriental) just across the river. The team working in public spaces have so much integrity. They’re pros, but seem to be encouraged by management to retain their distinctive personalities and not in any way, shape or form act subdued just to please me or other guests (though over the years, we’ve unfortunately experienced when guests seem to expect and demand a master-slave relationship from staff at 5-star hotels.

This is going to sound a little strange, but because of my background in the hotel and hospitality industry in Sweden, Thailand and for a short while the US, I feel compelled to be extremely humble and friendly towards those that serve me and do their best to ensure my stay is comfortable and memorable. I even tidy up our hotel rooms so that the cleaning staff isn’t unnecessarily given more work just because I’ve been sloppy or a lazy-bone-jones.

I shot the image above from our room around midnight tonight – after we had nice dinner with friends, Peder, Lotta, Lena and Thomas at Swiss Alain’s Cabana Garden on Sukhomvit Soi 75.
Image below is the daytime view from our room and the kind bellhop that greeted us when we arrived earlier today.

Peninsual Bangkok


JAT, Ko Samui and Mass Tourism

Here’s an interesting comparison. The round trip airline ticket I bought to and from Bangkok a few months ago cost more or less the same in 2018 as it did back in 1988,  i.e. $700. The only difference was that in 1988, I flew with JAT Yugoslav Airlines via Belgrad – a flight which included a 24hr stopover and a double room with all meals at legendary, if somewhat dilapidated, Hotel Belgrade. I remember clearly how the service onboard the flight was surprisingly good and that the female flight attendants wore plain uniforms but had accessorized themselves with large, round earnings and noisy bracelets. About as diametrical to what dress codes dictated at airlines like, SAS or Lufthansa as you could get.

My brief stint in what is now Serbia was uneventful, aside from being shadowed at the airport by what I assumed were two government »handlers«. See, my visit took place during the last couple of years of  paranoid dictator Tito’s regime and less than four before the third Balkan Wars began. As a visitor holding a US passport – I didn’t become a Swedish citizen until 12 years later – I had to endure a tiring visa application process which involved buying some kind of stamps at one end of the airport’s dark and dim arrival hall and then proving the purchase at a completely different end of the building, where a military rep in full regalia looked suspiciously at me before finally stamping my passport and letting me into the country. Shortly thereafter, I sat on an old rickety airport bus, heading into Belgrad’s old town. On October 11, it’ll be 30 years ago since that happened.

I was heading to Ko Samui and Lamai Beach where a fellow I’d met at a nightclub in Gothenburg had offered me a full-time position as both »Artist” and »Guest Relations Manager« at his bungalow place on a paradise island in southern Thailand. My responsibilities included painting and illustrating signs and organizing activities for guests. In practice, this meant getting a volleyball game going each afternoon and making sure that there was a party or event once a week, or so.

Golden Sand Bungalows, as the place was called, had two rows with 22 bungalows on either side of the property with each row leading from the main dirt road (that passed through Lamai) and down to the beach. In between both rows was a small reception facing the road and a rather large restaurant area facing the beach. Down at the beach was a small bar.

I spent about 6 months working at Golden Sand’s together with a friend from Sweden, Magnus Ekström, who was also employed there, but primarily as an electrician. In exchange for our services, we were provided with a bungalow as well as food and drink. I vividly remember how this was a tremendously fun, carefree existens. During our stay, several friends from Sweden flew down to visit us on Lamai Beach.

To give those of you that may have visited Ko Samui in the last 10 or 20 years an idea of what it was like back then, I can begin by telling you that the only way to get there was via ferry from either Surat Thani, Ko Pha-ngan or Koh Tao. The airport hadn’t been built yet and if my memory serves me correctly, there may have only been a single hotel on the entire island. There were literally dozens upon dozens of bungalow places, though. Some were dirt cheap, like beach lined but bare-bones Bungalow Bills and White Sands, where you could stay for as little as 50 baht per night. Others, like Golden Sands, cost up to 200 baht per night, or roughly $8.

To say that the tourism industry has been booming since my very first visit to Southeast Asia, some thirty years ago, would be a momentous understatement. It’s not like I think of myself as a pioneer. From a backpacker’s perspective, Thailand was already a very popular destination. But things have certainly changed. I mean, the sheer volume of group holiday travelers has unquestionably exploded and it’s becoming harder and harder to experience anything worth experiencing without having to share with hundreds of others. Even if you do get up ridiculously early in the morning which was when I took the above shot at Angkor Wat here in Cambodia.

Once in a while, I’ll see a couple of backpackers and think to myself, and yes, with a huge dose of nostalgia, how great it was to have experienced traveling so independently and far removed from much of the tourism I see today.

I suppose I’m slowly turning into the curmudgeon I once promised never to become.

Siem Reap Reprise

Currently in Siem Reap in northern Cambodia. We experienced Phnom Penh a few years ago, but haven’t been to Siem Reap in over a decade. It’s cozy here, just as I remember it. Not much seems to have changed. Everything still feels scaled down and manageable, from a visitors perspective. No looming highrises like in the Cambodian capital. Yet now there’s even more of an abundance with really good, reasonably priced restaurants, pubs and cheap foot massage shops, hairdressers and spas.

If your into beer, several places here will pour you a tall glass of local draft for as little as $1. A tasty and almost filling Khmer dinner will only set you back about $4 and to enjoy an hour long foot massage, most places will charge just five buckaroos.

Why I’m referring to prices in US dollars, you ask? Well, because even if the local currency, the »riel«, is the official method of payment, the de facto and widely preferred unofficial second currency is for whatever reason the US dollar. Sad in way, but it makes paying (and tipping) here very simple and straightforward. Siem Reapians are easy-going, generous with their smiles and ever-so-polite, without being subserviant. It’s about as safe here as anywhere else I’ve been in Southeast Asia. Never feel unsafe in this part of the world – as I unfortunately do from time to time back home in Malmö.

We spent yesterday’s sunset and this morning’s sunrise climbing the steep steps of stupas, walking down long palatial corridors and wandering into enormous prayer halls at Angkor Wat and Phnom Bakheng. And today, we explored the giant trees that have reclaimed the temple of Ta Prohm. What should of been a fairly serene visit to this ancient and sacred buddhist site, was anything but. We shared most of our excursions with some of the most rowdy, loud-mouthed, flag-waving, selfie-taking, ill-dressed tourists I’ve ever had the displeasure of rubbing elbows with. Not all, but most were from the Middle Kingdom. A forebearer of things to come?

I’ve been shooting travel photos professionally for close to 20 years now and have had hundreds (if not thousands) of my images published in dozens of magazines and newspapers in Scandinavia, Europe and the US. So I can say with some assertiveness that I don’t find it particularly hard to photograph temples here. Quite the opposite. With the right lens arsenal (primes, in my case), shooting at the optimum time of day for the best possible light (and perhaps lugging around a travel tripod), it should be hard to screw up. The only entirely uncontrollable, capricious factor that has ruffled my feathers, is with the many others I have to share the scenes with and how insensitive or uncooperative they turn out to be.

I totally get that there is no real reason for me to think I should have priority over anyone else. It’s not that which I am referring to. I’m talking about plain and simple politeness and a reasonable perception and consideration of what’s happening beyond the group’s tireless flag-waving. That’s all.

To say I’m not a huge fan of institutionalized religion would be a massive understatement. Don’t misunderstand me, though. I get that religion is important to many, many billions of people across the globe, and as long as the faith is personal and practiced unjudgmentally, I have zero problems respecting it.

Walking through Angkor Wat’s massive temple grounds made me think about religion again. How complex a role it has played in human history –  in a way that no other species on this planet could even begin to comprehend. Not even dolphins, I think. So, to see all the trees do there outmost to reclaim the temple ruins and expand the forrest around Angkor Wat, as if there actually were Ents from Tolkien’s ring saga doing the reclaiming, was somehow soothing.


Thoughts on fitness & beating my food frenzy

My 4 week strategy of eating a fastidious, plant-based diet, aligning my meals with a intermittent fasting regimen and getting at least an hour of intense exercise per day, has proven to be a successful combination. I’ve shrunk my waist’s girth by 4cm/1,5in and reduced about 5kg/11lbs of excessive body fat. It’s nothing short of an amazing accomplishment and I feel pretty fucking proud of myself.

Honestly, I don’t think I have ever eaten so much fruit and vegetables as during this past month. Above all, I don’t think I’ve ever been so successful at avoiding crappy food – or, stuff I know will only satisfy my tastebuds – including ice cream, popcorn or other snacks, no pastries, candies or other processed junkfoods. I’ve calculated that I skipped about 60 meals this past month, i.e. most breakfasts and lunches. Not a single food frenzy for a month. It’s been such a relief just to not  have to think about food so damn much. At home, I feel it’s a constant worry about what to eat and when – as if we’d all starve to death if we didn’t put our meals on the very top of our priority list.

It was Charlotte’s suggestion that I kickstart my journey with 10 days of intense Bikram Yoga at Kata Hot Yoga on Phuket. I did, and it turned out to be an excellent way to get going. And after the first few days when a nagging – but not debilitating – headache subsided, it was surprisingly easy to adjust to the new daily routine. I complimented each morning’s sweat-dripping yet energizing yoga class with afternoon beach walks and when there were waves, some surfing, too. And I continued with long, daily walks and pool laps whilst in Bangkok. On top of this, I also practiced Qigong and/or Yoga 4-5 times a week, either at Suananda Studio in Bang Rak or on my own (image above). Losing weight around the waist has also let me go much deeper into several poses.

While morning diets have consisted of fruit, vegetables and nuts, I’ve been keeping to a more flexible, pescatarian diet for evening meals and avoiding eating altogether for at least 8 hours during the day. Which of course means I’ve enjoyed dinners tremendously and eaten a wide range of dishes, including pad thai with tofu, hand-rolled tuna nigiri, spicy fish tacos and plain ol’ fish n chips. I’ve sorta seen dinner as a way to reward myself for keeping my daytime intake so lean.

It’s hard for me not to sermonize about how triumphant my journey has been. As with everything that inspires me, I can’t help but share my findings – so that friends and family can also enjoy the blissfulness that I’ve experienced. I’ve always been excited to share my views on music, food, travel, photography gear, whatever.

And so, there’s now no doubt in my mind that the only realistic and natural way to get in better shape and lose excess body fat is to calibrate a balance between what you eat, how much you eat and what your body really needs to function, endure, repair and regenerate.

I like to think of it like this; if your body isn’t able to make use of what you eat, that it takes more energy to digest than what you gain from it because the food is crap or you’re system can’t handle all of the day’s intake, you’re quite literally using your body as a garbage disposal and allowing your tastebuds to make judgment calls it is incompetent to do.

Folks, we’re living in an era of food frenzy where the abundance of food has led us to an extremely unhealthy relationship with the planet we exploit so thoroughly to produce it on. Eating excessively has become an addiction and a natural, yet unquestioned, part of our need to constantly entertain our tastebuds

The hundred thousand dollar question: will I be able to withstand temptations upon returnng to “normal life” back home in Malmö?
The trillion dollar question: how the hell do we rid ourselves from an addiction that could eradicate us as a species and practically annihilate our planet? Or, should we just let everything take its course and assume that Earth’s self-healing will eventually realign everything?


Sunflowers in Benjasiri

I’ve loved sunflowers ever since attending art college in Visby, the capital of Gotland, a Swedish island in the Baltic Sea. While there, I read a few books about Vincent Van Gogh and was – like so many others – completely mesmarized by his series of earthy hued paintings and thick, rough sketches inspired by sunflowers from around the town of Arles in Provence, France.

I discovered these sunflowers just the other day in Benjasiri Park, one of Bangkok’s most beautiful urban oasis.

I used Moment’s wide angle lens attached to my iPhone for the majority of the shots and was blown away by how close I could get to the flowers and the shallow depth of field the puny albeit sharm glass provided.


On the move in Bangkok

I can’t help but be mesmerized by the intensity of traffic in downtown Bangkok. I’ve experienced some heavy-duty congestion in Hanoi, Hyderabad and Nairobi. Even PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) can get clogged up during rush hours. But those places don’t come anywhere close insofar of the fierce force and magnitude of all of Bangkok’s cars, trucks, buses, tuk-tuks, motorcycles, skytrains, subways, cyclists and pedestrians heading somewhere simultaneously.

Yesterday, I walked from the shopping district at Siam Center/Siam Discovery/Siam Paragon via Sukhumvit Road all the way to Thong Lor, soi 23, which is about a distance of 10 kilometers. There’s always street-level activity going on along Sukhumvit Road and yesterday was no exception. The noise level is almost deafening and the air thick with fumes. Still, I always get a few good shots and decent footage during my urban treks. Yeah, I know, Bangkok is certainly not the healthiest place to powerwalk.

As I was hittting the pavement down Sukhumvit, which is the city’s main artery, I reflected now and again about the complexity of Bangkok’s current traffic situation. And it made me wonder if in the future all the buses, trucks, cars, motorcycles and tuk-tuks could likely be replaced with fully autonomous electric vehicles. Most street-level traffic seems to consist of solo drivers in cars, trucks or on motorcycles. So ride sharing alone would for sure help to reduce traffic.

The obvious caveat would be that the prosperous and super-influential petrochemical industry would fight to the very last drop of oil before allowing such a scenario. Unless of course, we all use fossil fuels to generate electricity needed to charge all the batteries.

Before the Skytrain was inaugurated 1999, getting around Bangkok was a tedious and an unpredictable activity. At times it could be a real nightmare. Back in the late 1980, depending on the time of day, taking a cab from Silom or Sathorn to Asoke or Thong Lor in the Sukhumvit district, could take anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour and a half. It was absolutely nuts.

Today, the Skytrain is very popular and has become the preferred way to move about in Bangkok. Which means that during rush hours, it’s almost as crowded as on Tokyo’s morning subway along the Ginza line. They might need to hire official pushers and shovers soon.

I shot the clips for the above short film during these last couple of days. Mostly with my iPhone and a GoPro.

More images from Bangkok can be enjoyed here.


How to take Street Portraits

Taking street portraits of random, everyday folks I meet during walks in any part of the world, is inspiring but can also certainly be a multi-level challenge. To be able to capture a series of unstaged, authentic portraits, I need to be prepared on a technical, emotional and creative level.

Let me explain.

Technically. Since I don’t possess Spiderman’s lightning speed and can switch setting and dial in optimal settings on the fly, I have to prep the camera before approaching my subject. Sneaky style, if you know what I mean. Often I’ll recognize someone I want to photograph, make a 180 degree turn so I can get all my stuff in order before he or she notices me and then turn back around again and start working the shot.

If you’re shooting with autofocus and auto ISO enabled, then all you’ll really need to decide on is depth of fied and how to compose the portrait. As long as the capture size in the camera’s preferences is set to a large enough size (JPEG or, even better, RAW), you should be provided with a big enough photo to allow for recomposing (by scaling up/cropping) in your preferred image editing software. All of the photos above were shot with an iPhone 7+ using Apple’s standard camera app. All of them have been cropped to bring forth what I felt was the best composition for each subject.

Emotionally. I try to be both humble and decisive when attempting to photograph interesting people – or, people in interesting situations – that I come across during a street walk. Above all, I always smile just before conjuring up my camera and looking ever-so unassuming as I ask to take a photo of them. The real trick is to startle folks a little and hope they feel charmed and flattered by the very thought that someone actually wants to take a photograph them. Hopefully, I’ll get the shot before they start analyzing the situation too much. If I can only get a subject to freeze physically (and intellectually) for just a few seconds, I’ll usually be able to capture a few frames. Subjects who are standing still are much, much easier to shoot than getting those on the move to stop in their tracks and let some stranger point a camera at them. I also find reading the mood to be a key variable. Statistically, about 70% of everyone I ask agrees to let me take their portrait. Especially if the camera I’m using is small and discreet. Like a cellphone…

I’ve just ordered the new iPhone Xs Max and though it comes with a bigger screen, the phones physical size isn’t bigger than my current, two year old iPhone. What has gotten much bigger, though, is the camera sensor. Apple’s camera team has increased the sensor size by a whopping 30%. In addition to all the benefits a larger sensor provides, like better lowlight sensitivity, better color rendering and wider dynamic range – thanks in part to larger pixels (Apple opted for larger pixels of higher quality instead of increasing the amount of pixels) – the new iPhone models have vastly improved optical image stabilization. To me, the latter is really interesting. See, if the camera sensor can move to counter-balance a hand’s shake, the shutter speed can be lowered without introducing blur in the photo or having to increase the ISO level – which inevitably adds noise to the portrait. Sure, I can always reduce noise during the editing process, but the cleaner the image is when captured, the more leeway I have to make adjustments after the fact. In short, shit in, shit out.

Creatively. Taking street portraits can at times be pretty stressful. Even if I’ve seduced the subject into letting me take his or her portrait and my camera’s ready to go, at best, I still have only but a few seconds to compose and make sure there’s not too much going on in the background or on either side of the subject. Unless of course it’s my objective to contextualize the portrait using the surroundings. As with the female motorcycle taxi driver pictured above (center).

Like many other photographers I’ve talked about this with, taking street portraits is a heck of a lot easier in Asia than most other places. Especially in the US and Europe where urbanites tend to be so abnormally self-concious about their “image”, they often freak out when I approach them for a street portrait. Where as in countries like Thailand, Indonesia, Cambodia and Laos, folks are generally un-shy and happy as can be to pose. And they’re also easy to get smiling, which is isn’t a prerequisite, but after all, a smile does make for a nicer portrait.


Live Jazz on Sukhumvit Rd & Quincy Jones

Enjoyed a set of jazz classics by local musical quartet, Jook-kru Brass who were performing on the sidewalk of Sukhumvit Road the other afternoon. I admire the brass band’s tenacity – competing with the pandemonium emitted from Bangkok’s indisputably busiest street takes some real artistic courage. I met them on my way to dinner at the Japanese restaurant Isao and they were still playing on my way back to Thong Lor about an hour later.

Last night I saw a riveting new documentary on Netflix about multitalented musician and producer Quincy Jones. What a tumultuous life he’s lived! I knew about some of the world class musicians the man had worked with. But the film really provides new insights as to both Quincy’s genius and fragility as a human being. I just found some of his many brainy quotes here.

Aside from having several of his solo albums in my Apple Music collection, including the outstanding »The Dude«, the only two remote connections to »Q« I have is that my late father also worked with Frank Sinatra as an actor in a film called “The Man with the Golden Arm” from 1955 (my dad’s wearing a hat and sitting immediately to the right of Sinatra at the poker table) and younger brother Tyko who during the mid 1980s was good friends with Quincy Delight Jones III, Quincy Sr’s son from a marriage with model, actress and photographer, Ulla Jones from Sweden. They stayed in touch until Tyko eventually left Stockholm and moved permanently to L.A.


Meanwhile, stomy back at home…

It’s been mostly fair weather since I arrived in Southeast Asia close to a month ago. A few monsoon showers, but no flooding or unbearable heatwaves, either.

I would perhaps not extend the meteorological description to include adjectives like cool or even pleasant, but from time to time, a soothing breeze sneaks its way through Bangkok’s myriad of skyscrapers and blows gently on your face. Excuse the double negative, but for a moment, the weather is not entirely disagreeable.

Meanwhile, in Malmö, one of autumns first storms arrived yesterday. The footage is from late August last year, when I storm rolled in to southern Sweden and Västra Hamnen where we live. More visuals from Malmö can be viewed here.


Roasting Coffee Beans

Shot this during a return to Bang Rak a couple of days ago. I eventually walked into Warehouse 30, a cluster of vintage storehouses near the Chao Phraya River and which have been repurposed as a hub for local artists and designers. The owner of one of the dozen or so vendors, The Fox and The Moon Café, had just installed an industrial scale roaster which he said had set the café back some USD$17,000/€52,000.

To me, it seemed like a hyperbolic investment for such a relatively small – albeit cool – café. But then again what the hell do I know about coffee roasting? Especially now when I’m not even drinking the stuff.

Fact is, I haven’t had a cup of coffee for close to a month.

At home, after some form of exercise and a shower, I usually begin the day with a smoothie or a bowl of oatmeal and then start hitting the coffee straight after. By the time the rest of the family is up and about, I’ve already poured a second cup of French press. And by ten, I’m at my third cup and sometimes even a fourth, if Charlotte’s made a new brew. I don’t think my level of consumption was abnormal for someone living in Scandinavia where coffee is an integral part of society’s social fabric.

Still, I have to say that I’m surprised at how easy it’s been to kick that particular habit – without being tempted by the multitude of trendy coffee bars and cafés here in Bangkok. Do I feel any effects of not drinking 3-5 cups of coffee a day? Hard to say, really. But if nothing else, it’s one less thing my digestive system has to deal with. And since I add cow, soy or coconut milk to my coffee, I’ve also reduced my calorie intake. Do I miss the smell and  taste of coffee? Absolutely. But as it turns out, coffee isn’t quite as addictive as I’d thought. Or, maybe my character is stronger than I gave myself credit for.


This is from last night’s sumptuous Mexican dinner at Barrio Bonito where as an appetizer, I ate DORADITOS DE GUACAMOLE, which is a set of six small crunchy cones filled with salsa and guacamole (served in an egg carton!) and then, TACOS DE PESCADO, three fish tacos in soft shell corn wrappers as an entrée (presented in a small wooden crate about half the size of a shoebox).

The venue where Barrio Bonito is neatly tucked into a corner is an indoor and outdoor foodcourt and shopping mall called The Commons. This is where a wide range of eateries and bars serve some of the best food and drink you can get in Bangkok here. Several of the city’s most popular vendors have also set up shop here, including Absolut You, Bangkok’s popular fitness and yoga studio chain.

I’m a little curious as to what the name The Commons is supposed to imply. I read there story, and it seems they want to be a community or at the very least, a part of the community.. Thing is though, you don’t see a lot of Thai commoners here, that’s for sure. If you don’t count cooks, servers and cleaners, that is. It’s mostly well-to-do patrons that can easily afford to spend more or less what an equivalent dining experience would cost in L.A., Manhattan, Paris or London. Don’t get me wrong, I love the concept, backstreet location, assymetical architectural style, laid-back ambiance and all that. But let’s be upfront about who the Commons are really catering to: a demographic that usually doesn’t care an awful lot about their community. Just sayin’…

It was busy last night, but still enjoyable and despite the large crowd of hungry/thirsty locals, tourists and expats, I thought the service was really good. We all ate different stuff, but the consensus was overwhelmingly positive. From left to right, Lena, me, Peder, Lotta and Thomas. Next time we gather for lunch or dinner, Charlotte will hopefully be among those smiling faces.

Can’t remember her name, but I spoke with the woman that owns Barrio Bonito the other day. Turns out she’s from Mexico City and has been cooking authentic Mexican food (not Tex-Mex) in Thailand for close to 11 years. That’s stamina.

After dinner, we crossed Thong Lor and headed over to a beer garden called Beer Belly where a few of us played a round or two of table tennis and chatted some more. I walked a few meters shy of 15k yesterday’s filming in Talad Noi, Worachok and Chinatown, so by 10:30, my body was exhausted and ready for bed.

There’s a couple of nearby galleries I want to check out today and then have dinner at what used to be one of our favorite sushi restaurants, »Isao« off of Sukhumvit, about halfway down soi 31. Might even take in a movie. We’ll see.


The Sidewalk Tailor

Yesterday, while eating dinner at a small restaurant here in Thong Lor’s popular foodcourt, The Commons, I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on a conversation between a 30 something American (or, Canadian) guy and an American (or, Canadian) women sitting in the booth in front of me. It wasn’t really a conversation they were having, though.

It was more like the guy was giving his sermon or lecturing her. I have no idea what their relationship was. But regardless of if they were a couple or just good friends, I was astonished at how much he seemed to enjoy talking about himself, his accomplishments and what he must of thought was an infallible approach to life.

As I was eating my way through the day’s only meal while listening to the guy’s endless oration, I contemplated why we men have such a constant need to assert ourselves, share our many anecdotes and assume that the world has actually been starving for our universal wisdom. Knowledge we men are so generously giving away to practically anyone willing to listen.

Maybe she was thoroughly enjoying his rant. Maybe she just wanted to get him into bed and listening to his lecture was just a (boring) means to an end. Or, perhaps, to her, he represented a father figure. Someone to help her find »enlightenment«. Who knows, right?

In any case, I felt sad that we men – not all, but enough to go around – really are so self-centered and full of ourselves. As I walked down the sidewalk, eventually to the stretch of sidewalk where I met the tailor above, I wondered if I was just like that unapologetically talkative dude at the restaurant. Constantly giving unsolicited advice and unasked for guidance. Probably. But what about the tailor? When he gets home after a full day of sewing, measuring and threading, does he just sit in a sofa quietly with his family? Probably not.

During this trip to Asia, a working hiatus, if you will, I’ve tried to uncover the layers that form the composition of Joakim. I like to consider myself a reflective indivisual. So this is certainly not the first time I’ve been on a introspective journey. As could be expected, it’s been an analytical, self-concious process where I’ve taken inventory of everything from habitual behavior and things that triggers emotional instability (and vice-versa) to my insatiable need for creative input/output and perceptions of what’s really important in life.

The endgame of this five week long expedition is to figure out a way to reduce non-essentials and keep laser focus on the stuff that I can influence and which will incontrovertibly add tangible physical, emotional, spiritual and creative value. I’ve still got a couple of weeks to go, but I already feel interesting discoveries and important insights have been made. I’m betting heavily on that after this trip, I can achieve a more holistic perspective and approach to life – if I try hard enough and keep to the straight and narrow path – which I’ve discovered already resides within me.


Thong Lor

I’ve moved on now. I took a Grab (Über equivalent) to Thong Lor where I’ve rented a really sweet apartment for a week. In addition to all the usual amenaties you’d expect from a reptuable hotell, I now finally also get to sleep in a really comfortable. It’s nowhere near the quality of what we have at home, but certainly better than what I’ve slept on up until just 24 hours ago.

Thong Lor is one of the most schizophrenic streets in the world. On par with Lincoln Boulevard in L.A., I think. And it perfectly epitomizes what I find so inspiringly captivating about Bangkok; the extreme culture clashes between contemporary and traditional, ridiculouslly costly and dirt cheap, futuristic and historic, decrepit and torn, shiny new and futuristic.

To me, Thong Lor is like an amalgamate of classic Bangkok, Abbot-Kinney, Harajuku and Rodeo Drive.

It’s an urban catwalk for young and affluent locals as well as the many well-heeled expat crowd living around here. They’re  perfectly styled, meticulously manicured and ever-so self-concious as they stroll in pairs or small groups along Thong Lor’s sidewalks. They omit an almost tangible aura of unflinching purpose while heading towards a boutique coffee bar, a teeth-whitening dentistry, maybe a shave at one of several chic barber shops, a bowl of organic Udon soup at a noodle restaurant or, some serious shopping along the string of ultra trendy fashion shops lining stretches of Thong Lor.

Perhaps the clearest indicator that you’re about to set foot on what is arguably the Thai capital’s most exclusive and expensive street is the mango store on the corner of Thong Lor and Sukhumvit Road where a large (non-organic) ripe mango will set you back as much as THB200 $6.

Up towards the Thong Lor Skytrain station, as you near the usual traffic chaos of Sukhumvit, it gets considerably less fancy-pancy. Here’s where you’ll see fewer influences from Tokyo and much more of classic Bangkok dominating the street scene. This is home to several cheap Chinese and Thai eateries, foot massage shops and, as customary in downtown Bangkok, soi corners occupied by a half dozen or so gritty-looking moto-cy taxi drivers.

Perhaps as part of a misguided rebellion, the woman above sat in front of jewelry shop in Thong Lor selling her wares. I saw her during yesterday’s 10k walk which led me to my favorite park, Benjasiri where I walked a few laps in a pleasant afternoon breeze before returning.

The woman was evidently oblivious to the urban gentrification so clearly visible just a bit further down the road. She laughed hard and long when I showed her the photo. There was a look about her that seemed to say she didn’t give a hoot about all the shenanigans going on in her neighborhood.


FILM ABOUT T/S HELENE

I’ve sailed with T/S Helene a couple of times and when I was younger, with a few other old sail ships of her generation.

On the first occasion, two years ago, I met the skipper and chairman of Ystad’s Sailing Club, Pelle T Olsson and his friendly crew of enthused sailors. It was then that the idea of making a short film about T/S Helene began to simmer.

Though the ship was originally built as a schooner in 1916 at the Ystad Shipyard, after a storm in 1943, which tore her rigg completely off, she was refitted as galliot (a single-masted cargo boat or fishing vessel).

T/S Helene is officially recognized by the Swedish National Maritime Museums – a public agency under the Ministry of Culture – as a historic and culturally significant vessel. In Swedish,she’s »K-Märkt«.

Shooting a film on a ship like T/S Helene had its challenges. I can imagine how hard must of been for Steven Spielberg during the film, Jaws. I used a stabilized Sony A7III with a Zeiss 18mm prime lens, a GoPro Hero 6 and Canon’s 70D equipped with a 50mm f1,4 lens for the earthbound footage. The DJI Mavic Air stood for the aerial shots. Except for the scene on top of the mast, which was so eloquently captured by the young sailor, Atle Runstål.