I’m wonderfully exhausted. As an integral part of our travel story about what makes legendary Italian ski resort Cortina a destination worth visiting in the spring shoulder season, I spent four glorious hours skiing the pistes of Faloria Cristallo today. Since the winter season here in the Dolomites is more or less over, the remaining lifts will close in a couple of weeks, there were no crowds on the hills and no lines to get back up to the top chairlift station, which was terrific as it allowed me to get in a ton of runs before the spring sun melted the snow to slush.

I moved to Malmö in 1998 and Charlotte the year before. The Öresund Bridge above was completed and opened in 2000. With the exception of 2005 and 2014, we’ve lived in Malmö for nearly 26 years. That’s longer than I’ve lived anywhere else in the world, including Göteborg, and almost twice as many years as Los Angeles. Time flies…

Before the bridge was built, we’d have to take a ferry to Copenhagen Airport (CPH) and on a few occasions, a helicopter shuttle from a heliport located not too far from where this was typed.

Aside from having the always inspiring Copenhagen so close by, for folks that travel as much as we do, the Öresund Bridge has brought with it so much convenience. Without it, I’m not sure we would still be living here. While not the most spectacular bridge in the world, its logistical worth makes it absolutely invaluable.

Yesterday, before lunch, I spent some time at Hasselblad Center, the popular photography museum/art space in the center of Göteborg.

One of Sweden’s most acclaimed photographers, Anders Petersen, is having an exhibit there called “City Diary”.

I’m not sure what to think.

First of all, in my opinion, there were way, way, way too many images. Maybe I’m just no longer capable of absorbing so much visual information (150 photos) in one small place. That’s probably probable.

Secondly, and this might have to do with the sheer amount of photographs on display, the vast majority of Petersen’s subjects (and the compositions he used to portray them) just didn’t involve me. I’m sure there were plenty of interesting backstories. Perhaps I was just missing context in the sea of imagery.

Documenting people in society’s “underbelly” is almost always intriguing – until it comes across as being too staged, posed, and completely disconnected contextually from when and why it was captured. That’s how I felt about most of the exhibit’s photographs. Which is likely why the show is called “City Diary”. Petersens is sharing his personal visual diary, leaving the rest of us in the dark, detached.

Maybe the exhibit’s title is just a retrofit. 

When Elle and I visited Copenhagen Contemporary a couple of weeks ago, I mentioned to her that whatever we saw enjoyed cultural legitimacy just by virtue of being exhibited there.

I kinda got that feeling yesterday while trying to figure out if Petersen’s exhibit was as important as the venue it is shown at claims it is. I’m not saying Petersen isn’t an important photographer or documentarian. But as a retrospective, I think “City Diary” could definitely have been more emotionally involving. Sometimes, less is more.

Spending a few days during Easter in Gothenburg with family and friends. Always have mixed feelings about this city. On the one hand, it’s the first hometown I had after leaving L.A. Than again I got tired of my repetitive life  here. Still, given the opportunity and the right location, I would move back. If for no other reason than for the optimistic atmosphere and bundle of good friends we have here.

At last, a revelation in Malmö for the American palate! Earlier today I was introduced to Brunchoteket – where my decades-long search for a great American brunch in Sweden is finally over. Imagine a meal where every single bite is a wonderful reminder of an American diner. The Full Brekkie was my choice today, and it turned out to be a perfect assembly of fluffy American pancakes with the rich flavor of real Canadian maple syrup, delicately scrambled eggs, the finest Swedish bacon, and sourdough toasted to a perfect crisp. Friends, this was not merely a meal; it was more of an experience – generous, satisfying, and utterly delicious.

Despite a bustling atmosphere, I enjoyed exceptional service with a smile, thanks to a team of the most cheerful gals I’ve ever been served by in this city. For those looking for the quintessential American brunch in Malmö, look no further. Brunchoteket is not merely recommendable; it’s simply a must. Oh, and this is one of those dog-friendly restaurants, too.

Someone I used to know once said to me that Swedish photographers are afraid of specializing. He never elaborated on the statement and knowing him, it was probably something he’d heard off-handedly from someone and hijacked it to sound less boring and more profound.

I’ve nevertheless thought about what he said a few decades ago.

I’m far too interested in far too many things to even have considered specializing in one particular field of photography, painting, or writing. It would be easy for me to argue the virtue of how it would have been better for me to be good at one field than half-assed good at many. But I love life too much not to find just about everything in it appealing and worthy of my attention, time, and creativity.

The woman above was hawking homemade honey on a side street in Tbilisi, the capital of Georgia. She gave me a taste, and her honey was awesome. Though I wasn’t in the market for her goods and we couldn’t communicate very well, I do remember how happy she seemed and it got me wondering about her life and how content she seemed to be with the hand fate had dealt her.

She must have been around 80 at the time, so I assumed that her younger years were mostly spent during the Cold War era, much of it under the rule of fellow Georgian Iosif Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili aka Stalin.

A short while ago, I asked a cashier roughly my age at our local supermarket how she was doing. I usually ask this but rarely get much more than a polite reply that it’s all good. This cashier, though, surprised me. Her answer was somehow profound.

She told me that things were as good as they could be and that she was happy with how things had turned out. That as a young girl, all she wanted to be was a cashier and even if her ambitions and expectations weren’t very pretentious, she was still happy. From time to time, I think about what the cashier said and how there’s something “zen” about her attitude and perspective.

Daughter Elle and I spent the better part of yesterday in Copenhagen. We took the train across the bridge from Malmö and then walked via Strøget and Nyhavn to Refshaleøen, one of the Danish capital’s most culturally happening islands where we had lunch at Lille Bakery before visiting Copenhagen Contemporary.

Among several exhibits at this enormous industrial space, to us, the standout was definitely Cathrine Raben Davidsen’s drawings and large paintings. The short film shown adjacent to her exhibit offered relevant context to her thought process and an emotional dimension to what her work represents.

I’ve always cherished father-daughter time with Elle. When she was younger, the two of us would frequently take trips to Lapland, Gotland and Stockholm. We’ve also had fun weekend adventures in both Amsterdam and London.As Elle gets older and busier with her work and social life, it gets harder to find time for longer trips. Which makes having Copenhagen so close by very convenient.