Shot this timelapse from our balcony yesterday. Not suffering from jetlag, yet I still wake up sometime between 4 and 5 am-ish, mainly for a pee, and can’t get back to sleep after that. So after yesterday’s awakening, I got the idea to capture a compressed 24 hours of our fabulous view.
To add an excursion to our travel story about Bodrum, we ventured out to sea yesterday by jumping onboard a ferry to the neighboring Greek island of Cos.
I’ve been to Cos (Kos) before, but it was in my early twenties, so I just barely recognized myself. We rented a couple of electric bikes and rode them to Casa Cook, a boutique hotel Charlotte was keen on seeing live and which was about 25k northwest of Cos town. While there, we ate a pretty good lunch before returning along a beautiful coastal road that led us back. Before getting back on the boat to Türkey, we stopped at one of many identical harbor cafés for an ice cream, coffee and a small glass of Ouzo.
Being that Türkey borders to Syria and several Greek islands, including Kos, still have refugee camps, there was a small but rigorous immigration procedure we had to pass through at each country’s port. No big lines, though and everything went super smooth. Not sure this will be the case once high season kicks in a month from now.
Of all the cities, towns and hamlets I’ve visited throughout Europe, I can’t recall seeing so many cats as there are here in Bodrum. They’re literally everywhere.
Met the above Lazy Bones Jones furry feline absorbing today’s late afternoon sun which was pouring in from one of the windows in a shop down by Bodrum’s cozy little harbor. There’s no shortage of stores selling knick-knacks here. But we’ve also visited a few really snazzy boutiques stocked with a collection of quality apparel priced (according to Charlotte) at about 50% below what we’d pay in Sweden.
There’s more than just cats here. I’ve seen several dozen dogs. Big ones, too. No donkies, though. Not yet, anyway. We’re heading over to Kos tomorrow. So there’s a decent chance we might meet a few hee-hawas while there.
Late last night, after about 12 hours of traveling, Charlotte and I finally checked into the Voyager here in Bodrum. It’s actually our very first time staying at an all-inclusive hotel and so, as part of the checkin process, we we’re both equipped with opaque, logo branded, plastic wristbands and politely encouraged to wear them at all time during our stay here.
Not that I have much experience from hospitals, but I associate plastic armbands with something they make you wear at a hospital. Mine fell off sometime during last night’s restless sleep, so I’ve now got it neatly tucked away in the left pocket of my white shorts. We just had breakfast and no one working the morning shift in the dining hall asked me to identify myself. Possibly because Charlotte’s plastic bracelet was clearly visible.
The breadth of the buffet was nothing short of magnificent and it wasn’t easy resisting overindulgence. Especially when I discovered the subsection of olives. The variety was extraordinary and in one of the many bowls I found one type that had a pit that in itself was bigger than the largest olive I’ve ever seen before.
We’re in here to research for a travel story for Charlotte’s popular site Hotell Addict about Bodrum – which has been on our destination list for at least a couple of years.
This is only our second visit to Türkey (adding a couple of dots to the ü is just too irresistible) with Istanbul being the first. We absolutely loved Istanbul.
The weather here in Bodrum, at least this time of year, is just how I like it, Californian warm and sunny. There’s even a few palm trees down by the beach. Photo: Charlotte Raboff
A friend pointed out the other evening – over a glass or two of summertime wine – that my climate change motivated intention at the onset of 2019 to travel less was failing miserably.
I thought of this while showering a few minutes ago. The warm water took a little longer than usual to arrive and I caught myself feeling impatient by the delay.
I could argue that unlike many other business travellers, or, as I like to call them, “corporate seagulls” who constantly fly from meeting to meeting and likely spend more time in airport lounges than they do with their families (let alone experiencing much of the places they travel to), my travels document destinations and I share my impressions – in words and visuals – with many thousands of people. Though I these days rarely produce much for Swedish travel magazines, once my work is published on, for example, www.airlinestaffrates.com under Travel Tips or on the site’s companion Facebook page, over 170,000 people can read it.
Conversely, one could argue that my travel stories only encourage more people to board fossil fuel burning planes, cars, buses and boats.
After almost 20 years of professional travelling, it’s going to be unimaginably difficult to change my ways. I am prepared, however, just as soon as I find the perfect place to settle down at. A place so immaculately beautiful, socially and ethnically heterogeneous yet remarkably affordable, warm and clean, that my need to travel will be forever quenched. Tips, anyone? Maui comes to mind…aside from the affordable side of that island (where it’s anything but affordable).
The little fishies above gave their lives to a sauce or stew at some streetside restaurant in Asia of which I have no recollection.
From last year’s re-visit to one of the astonishing “Strangler Figs” at Ta Prohm temple, near Angkor Wat in Cambodia. There’s something both spooky and frightful, yet also reassuring and comforting when nature reclaims manmade structures like this tree has.
I want to believe that everyone who has dedicated the current climate change debacle a thought or two, has felt similar sentiments. That no matter how hard we try, and boy have we tried harder than any other species on Earth, our planet will eventually loosen the stranglehold we’ve inflicted on it and evolve just fine without us.
More images from Cambodia can be viewed here.
Just finished an hour of twisting and bending. Got up at 05:00 am, about a minute before my alarm went off. Startting the day with qigong and yoga is like giving yourself a generous gift that keeps on giving all day long. Most of my aches and pains and any negative thoughts or seemingly insurmountable challenges I might perceive to have are gone by the end of the session – dispersed like clouds clearing from a worried sky.
I discovered yoga about two years ago and have been hooked ever since. It’s now my go-to remedy and keeps me honest and aware of my body’s current state. But you know what? I don’t buy into all the hokus pokus stuff often connected with yoga. Nothing wrong with spiritualism, just as long as it’s kept personal and not dictatorial. Heck I don’t even know most of the sanskrit names of all the animals I’m supposedly posing as. It doesn’t matter. In essence, Yoga is just a collective name for an ancient workout. No more no less. When anybody tries to tell you differently, their just preaching religion. And we’ve all recently heard about the tragedies in Sri Lanka and why we all need to stay clear of dogmas and mysticism…
After a relatively calm Easter with lots of tasty food in Göteborg and especially after yesterday’s “heavy” Easter dinner with a ton of herring, salmon and creamy sauces, my body’s yearning for lighter, plant-based food. Something akin to the salad above, shot with the Leica Q in Costa Rica during our visit 2017.
From the week’s two-day visit to Göteborg. I’ve wanted to revisit some of my old neighborhoods and places where I’d once lived. Just to refresh my memory and take a few snapshots for the archives.
On Thursday, I walked from the downtown hotel where I was staying and headed northeast along Friggagatan (lived there for a year), up to Redbergsplatsen and down to Gustavsplatsen (my first ever apartment for two years).
I then trekked up to Strömmensberg, down from there to Härlanda, through Kålltorp (where I lived for about a year with aunt Lillemor and her partner Karl-Erik when I arrived in Sweden in the summer of 1978) and Kålltorpskolan where went to 9th grade and finally, via Torp, Örgryte and Liseberg, up via Götaplatsen to Vidblicksgatan 5 in Johanneberg, which was the very last place I lived in Göteborg.
In all, it turned out to be a five hour, nearly 20km walk down memory lane.
The above little video doodle (shot handheld with my iPhone), of sculptor Carl Milles masterpiece “Poseidon” was from one of the very last stops before meeting up with a late but nonetheless well-deserved Easter themed lunch with old buddy Tommy Sahlin.
After the weekend on Gotland, I’ve spent some time sifting through my vast collection of photos from just shy of 30 years of visiting the island and neighboring Fårö. I remember being awestruck by how beautiful the landscape was and totally seduced by Visby those first few days back in 1990.
I had moved to Visby after being accepted to Gotland’s Konstskola (art school) and had somehow managed to rent a small house just inside the north gate of the town’s medieval ring wall. The house wasn’t fancy by any means, but it did have a kitchen, bathroom, a small living room and another room where I set up my easel, paints and brushes. It was an idyllic time where my art and photography developed and thrived.
It’s been a little more than a year since I was on Gotland – and judging from today’s brisk cold wind, it feels almost like it’s February – which was when the last visit took place. It’s no secret that I’ve had a long love affair with this island. I love shooting here and writing travel stories about why a visit should be on everyone’s bucket lists.
We arrived late afternoon and had just enough time to check in at the hotel and freshen up before it was time to head over to Munkkällaren, or, in localese, “Munken” where a huge celebration of my old buddy Timmy Skinner’s 50th birthday was about to commence. Met a lot of ancient friends at the party, most I’d not seen in many, many years. I probably missed a few cause I couldn’t recognize them or them me. The one constant here is the thousand year old ring wall which I got a few good shots of today – despite the cold weather.
Looks as if most of Easter 2019 will be celebrated in Malmö – or, at least in the general vicinity. We’ve spent several Easters in Vejbystrand over the years with plenty of egg hunting, egg throwing and egg eating to last me a while. I was in a new grocery store yesterday and they had a long row of knee deep containers full of various kinds of colorful Easter candy. Like the raspberry chews above.
While I was walking down the aisle, looking at all the sugarcoated candy got me thinking that there has had to have been at least a few scientists, perhaps some with PhDs in chemistry involved in deciding how sweet, sour, salty or bitter a particular candy was going to be. Not to mention discerning the exact color, texture and how chewy a gummy bear or wriggly snake would turn out.
I mean, there’s has to be several laboratories around the world where serious, well-educated men and women in white coats spend most of their workday mixing chemicals to make candy products that the marketing departments and product managers for successful candy companies like
#Haribo, #Malaco and #Fazer have decided will sell well in grocery stores like the one I visited yesterday.
About a year ago, Charlotte and I visited The Norrmans Bed & Breakfast about an hour south of Copenhagen. Lars and Anna took great care of us (as they did with their other guests) and though we only stayed a night, we we’re overwhelmed by how different the atmosphere was from just about any other overnight place we’d ever been to in Scandinavia.
It was as if the two of us had discovered a whole new category of accommodations. I mean, after decades of staying at large and small hotels all around the world – with varying levels of service, comfort and noteworthy dining encounters, what the Norrmans were offering was something totally different. I guess I’d characterize it as an intensely personal guest house experience set in a beautiful Danish homestead milieu.
From what I’ve gathered from their Instagram posts, the couple haven’t exactly been resting on their laurels. On contraire, The Normmans seem busy as can be with new ventures – including a shop full of quirky, cool stuff in one of the farm’s barns. Not sure if we’ll have time for a visit this year, but you never know! Yup, that’s me standing in the dirt on the parkiing lot.
Rummaging through one of my archives today, I stumbled across several photos of Okondja, the cute and wild Affenpinscher I shot in my old studio a few years back. As friendly as she was, I can’t see myself ever owning a dog that small. They’re just too twitchy and skittish. But cute, very cute. Sadly, I’ve heard that Okondja sometime after moving to South Africa passed away. More of my dog photos from around the world can be viewed here.
From yesterday’s morning shoot at Kockum Fritid with model and former competitive swimmer, Gustav Åberg Lejdström. The Butterfly stroke, or, the “Fly” as it’s called among competitive swimmers, is something I never even attempted as a young member of the West Hollywood Park Swim Team in the late 1970s or during my short time at S02 in Göteborg in the early 1980s.
Back in the day, I swam the Crawl/Freestyle and won a few swim meets as a sprinter in the 100 yard distance. I think the Butterfly stroke is really interesting as it mimics both a dolphin’s tail movement and the wing flap of a butterfly. During peak speed, the Butterfly stroke is apparently the fastest of all styles. Which I saw some proof of yesterday while trying to capture the above shot. Took me a good 100 tries before I got it right.
The “bridge” as locals usually call it, is a symbol of traveling for me. But not so much on the way home as when thinking ahead about a forthcoming trip. Which I do a lot of. Might have started off a little slow, but I’m reasonably sure 2019 will turn out to be one of the most intense travel years so far.
I can’t back this up factually, but I’m hoping my carbon footprint will be somewhat offset by the fact that I haven’t eaten meat or poultry for four years and that we don’t own a car or use one regularly. And though the rest of the family still shops clothes regularly, I take great pleasure in not having replenished my wardrobe much for the last couple of years.
I shot this from a sailboat a few summers back during one of few really nice evenings. Many more bridge photos can be enjoyed here.
This is Felicia Nilsson, a talented figure skater from Malmö that I’ve had the privilege of working with on a few occasions while working on an advertising assignment for our local sports center, Kockum Fritid.
I shot this with the Fuji Fujinon 56mm f1,2 at ISO400 and though not visible in the monochrome version above, shooting in an ice skating rink is really asking for as much color trouble as possible. Not only are there several competing color temperatures involved, the innumeral amount of crossing vertical and horizontal lines and shapes make composing a shot of a fast moving subject extremely difficult. Despite or maybe thanks to all the disstractions, I still found shooting Felecia and colleague Nicole both fun and creatively challenging.
For many years I lived a tangled life. Then came the AirPods and I felt as if a huge weight was lifted from my…ears. I used my pair of white wireless earbuds extensively. Probably as much as 3-4 hours a day – including when I fell a sleep listening to a podcast.
Finally, after about two years of daily use and waking up with one or both often lodged somewhere in the skin folds of my back or stomach after a night of sleep, the microphone and then the batteries started to give up. I could still use them, but the charge wouldn’t hold for more than an hour or so.
I ordered a pair of AirPods 2.0 just as soon as they were announced. I actually placed my order while lying on a bed overlooking the Indian Ocean in Goa without a nanosecond of hesitation. That’s how good I think this Apple product is and how dependent I am to using them to listen and talk via the iPhone. Love this little film Apple produced for the Airpods. And The New York Times has a good albeit somewhat crticial take on the new Airpod version.
It’s cold but beautiful today in Malmö. I’m going through my images from Goa and the contrasts between here and there make the photos seem as if they were all part of a vivid dream or an elaborately detailed hallucination. The change of temperature, humidity and above all, shift from a cacophony of scents and smells to a bouquet of… nothing is a little bewildering.
Met this sweet woman at her spice shop along the north end of Agonda’s main village road. After about a week of enjoying Indian and Nepalese food, I was getting used to the mix of essential spices found in the local Masala dishes, including tumeric, cumin, and the indispesible and irreplaceable coriander.
I’m writing this from a really busy lounge at Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi. l managed to grab what the Raboff family calls the “poker seat” when I arrived a couple of hours ago. In this case, It’s a reasonably comfortable armchair placed in the far back corner of this dimly lit lounge. From here, no one can walk behind me or intentionally or accidentally peer into my computer screen (hence the poker reference).
Most everybody in here is either busy talking on their phones, chatting with colleagues, working on spreadsheets or clicking their way through presentations on small, plastic laptops. Not all, but most are clad in pretty strict business attire and look as if they spend a great deal of time in lounges and shuttling from airport to airport and meeting to meeting.
Coming from an eight day travel assignment about a nearly obscure village in southern India, I could not feel further removed from the corporate world then right now.
I’m going to miss India. It has once again been a real pleasure thawing out and meeting so many interesting and friendly people. I love the slow-paced beach-life in Agonda. After two visits in as many years, I totally get the attraction and feel fairly confident I’ll be back.
The food shot above is from my very last dinner at Simrose, one of the best beach hotels I’ve ever stayed at – full stop. Aside from the splendid location, the great beachfront room I rented during my stay, I also thoroughly appreciated how at home the staff made me feel throughout my stay.
Have I mentioned how good the food is at Simrose? Despite having dozens of other eating options along the beach, I still ate every single meal at the hotel. Now, to be fair, I don’t honestly think that the difference in taste, price or presentation would have been huge had I varied my choice of dining location. I just got really lazy and couldn’t be bothered to venture out. This and the fact that it was smoother adding all my food and drink to the room bill.The Simrose is not the cheapest of hotels in Agonda. Not by a long stretch. Yet when I paid for eight days of breakfasts, lunches and dinners (including beverages), the cost was about what I’m used to paying when Charlotte, Elle and I go out to for a simple dinner in Malmö, Sweden – or, roughly about SEK 1000. At an equivalent beach hotel in Thailand, I’m fairly sure the price would have been at least twice that. For reasons unbeknownst to me, most of the kitchen and restaurant staff are from Nepal. So, for my very last meal at Simrose, I specifically asked for a typical dish from Nepal. Can’t remember the name, though. But boy, was it tasty – and all vegetarian, too!
#simrose #food #nepal #nepales #agpmda beach #india
When I saw this steamroller crushing gravel that had been carried and then emptied from the workers baskets earlier today, I was transfixed. How far from my existens was this? Lightyears.
This is my friendly cleaning lady. I’ve kept a fairly neat ship, so I only need her help every other day. I’ve heard her hum what is probably a well-known Indian tune when she’s sweet my patio.
The headline “Meine Reinemachefrau” is German for My Cleaning Lady and is a reference to the brilliant, deadpan comedy, “Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid” starring Steve Martin. I don’t know why I thought of that right now. Maybe because so many German guests have checked into the hotel over the last couple of days.
I deactivated my Facebook account this morning and I feel a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Once again I found myself caught in a crossfire between having unreasonably high expectations of appreciation from what I often spent a lot of time creating and posting – and a really weird sense of resentfulness when people posting what I thought was meaninglessness were receiving a ridiculous amount of attention
– Life is not online. It’s happening every second you look beyond the screen. The only likes and comments that really count, are those you give and receive from people you interact with in real-time.
I’ve deactivated my account before and after a five year hiatus, I decided to give it a shot and see if the algorithm had changed for the better – or, if I had changed my attitude. Sadly, the answer is neither. It’s still an eco-system where everyone – whether they are aware of it or not – strive to achieve popularity and celebrity status among their friends and followers. It’s a dark place where the currency is valued in the number of Likes, Comments and Shares you collect. It’s an unhealthy place to spend even a few minutes a day. Let alone hours.
Traveling on your own is nothing short of liberating as it provides a level of freedom group trips inherently don’t. Not that I can’t appreciate when the family and I are on an exciting escapade, I totally do. But ever since my very first backpacking adventure across western and southern Europe, way back in 1983, I’ve just loved heading out in the world on my lonesome.
A solo trip doesn’t necessarily have to be as far as India (where these words are being typed), though a bit of distance from home usually makes for more interesting experiences.
In addition to having plenty of time to reflect on life and relish in the temporary abandonment of daily chores, obligations and routines, being on your own means inviting a wealth of opportunities to see how other humans live their lives and to cross paths and maybe even interact with locals – as well as meet other travelers.
I met this gentle buffalo herder the other day on a pasture above the village of Agonda in southern Goa. It was laundry day for me and I was wearing just about the only clean clothes I had left; a white pair of shorts and a white t-shirt. It would be a gross understatement to say I stood out in the lush green environment. I made several careful attempts to get close to the heard, but each time I got within a few feet, they skedaddled.
Sedatja, my trusted rickshaw driver for two years straight now, translated the herders explanation for why the buffalo kept running away from me;
“They are very, very frightened of white color”.
Later that day, walking on my own along a twisty road that eventually leads to the main beach road and still wearing my “whites”, I came across three full-grown male buffalos with really impressive horns. They were quietly munching away in an overgrown garden at the front end of an abandoned house.
Once one of them got a glimpse of me in my shining armor, the other two looked up and within a second or two, all three were staring in disbelief, as if they’d seen the Grim Reaper and envision that I was coming to take them to buffalo purgatory.
As soon as the small herd found their footing (hoofing?), the mighty beasts jolted and then galloped towards the thicket towards the backend of the garden.
Interestingly, I didn’t get similar reactions from any of the many cows I met along the road that day. Maybe cows aren’t as superstitious. After all, they are sacred.
I’ll be heading out again today, wearing green shorts and a pink tee. We’ll see how that plays out among the Agonda buffalo population.
One of the perks of traveling is meeting people from all walks of life. Even when it’s only a ephemeral encounter – as with the sweet couple above that I met at a bar on the main village road here in Agonda, it adds great value to life and a visual memory to the trip. Shot with the Fujifilm XT-3 and a Fujinon XF 56mm f1.2.
From yesterday’s adventure in the beautiful rural hills above Agonda in south Goa, India. I used a suction cup on the windshield of the rickshaw to connect a Gopro Hero 7 Black to see if the hypersmoth stabilization was as good as proclaimed. And it was. I’m fairly sure that it films in 4k and then uses the higher resolution to stabilize the footage in realtime and then downsample and render it to a still impressive 2.7k.
Once I’ve discovered or located something that “fits the glove” snuggly, I’m inclined to stick with it. At least for a while or until something more appealing shows up. Such is the case with the English breakfast they serve here and that I make a very tasty open-face sandwich of. Firstly, I butter the toast, then cover each slice generously with baked beans and finally top this culinary concoction off with the fried eggs. Back when I ate meat, I might have also added a fistful of bacon to the recipe. But the thought almost disgusts me now. I don’t touch the ketchup, but I’ll eat the hashbrown potato cake thingy between the two sandwiches.
If you didn’t check out the video in the previous post (below) here’s what I looked like when the staff and fellow guests had smeared color all over me during the Holi Spring Festival.
I’ve since handed in my t-shirt and shorts to the laundry lady, visited a local barber and had an Ayurvedic massage.
From just after surfing late yesterday afternoon, the Holi celebration before that and then a random yoga poser I saw while walking along the beach afterwards.
From today’s extremely playful and colorful celebration of the vibrant Spring Festival called Holi. Shot on a Gopro Hero 7 (4k) and an iPhone 7+ (4k/720p). I’ve handed in my clothes to a local laundry shop, but they were dubious about being able to clean all of the colors. Not to fret, I said. Could make for a nice keepsake from an extraordinary day. Read more about Holi here.
I typically find more time to write whilst traveling. Especially when soloing on a long-distance trip. I suppose there is easement and solace in piecing together a description of my experiences on the road.
I woke up this morning to the sound of waves crashing onto the beach thirty or forty feet from my bungalow. As usual, I’d fallen asleep with my Airpods playing the latest podcast episode of “Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend” with the delightful Michelle Obama. I didn’t hear the entire interview, so I’ll finish it up sometime later today.
I usually wake up with one of the two Airpods lodged somewhere between my ribs or nestled in a fold of skin near my shoulder blades.
If the waves and the Airpods that woke me, it was definitely the smell of coffee that got me out of bed. After twenty minutes of Qigong poses, I headed downstairs to the restaurant which is directly below. After a pot of fresh coffee, a plate of baked beans and two fried eggs, I’m now ready to see how the villagers celebrate “Holi” today.
After a weeklong delay, a short stint in Delhi, I’m now back on schedule and have arrived safely in Goa.
The distance from the chilly, windy and pallid southern Sweden to the balmy and colorful southern India couldn’t be wider.
While it was officially spring in Sweden yesterday, here in Goa today, they will be celebrating “Holi” which is the Hindu festival of colors honoring the triumph of good over evil, increasing the prospect of a favorable harvest as well as improving fertility.
The layered image above is a composition of cows I met heading down the village road yesterday afternoon and a young guy with a lavish hairdo I came across a few minutes later.
From last year’s visit to south Goa in India. Shot on an old GoPro and an iPhone in the beatiful hills behind Agonda Beach during an afternoon. I remember having stubbed my toe on a piece of wood at the hotel that morning – yet still insisting on going surfing afterwards.
From an interview I did for Paris based TV team Story W. They visited in January to produce a story about unique sustainability projects in Malmö – primarily Västra Hamnen and Hyllie. The reportage will be shown on Swiss TV station Radio Television Suisse (RTS) and on a yet to be disclosed (to me anyway) French TV channel as well.
Heading east in a while. Not as far east as Guìlín in the southern reaches of China, though. Guìlín which means “Forest of Sweet Osmanthus” because of the abundance of Osmanthus trees in the region, was a magical place, especially the river trip we took down the Li River to the picturesque, laid-back village of Yangshuo – where we incidentally spent a night and drove electric scooters in the midst of the most amazing landscape of karst mountains. A small yet hopefully inspiring collection of images from Guìlín can be enjoyed here.