After an early-bird and relatively smooth flight from Kutaisi, Georgia, we are now back in sunny Sweden. I’m now even more intrigued by the Georgian people, culture and architecture and look forward to visiting again. This was my view from the Rioni River that runs through the city during yesterday’s 25k walk.

Flew into Kutaisi in the Imereti region of Georgia yesterday afternoon. I’ve been yearning to return to this remarkable country ever since my last visit in the fall of 2021. The 4-hour direct flight (in an Airbus) from CPH to KUT was very smooth.

Kutaisi is one of the world’s oldest cities and while perhaps not as formidable as the capital Tbilisi, it’s still perfectly situated for excursions westward to the Black Sea and up north to the Kaukasus mountain range. Might try to do both during my week here.

Last night we had a fabulous dinner at Palaty (პალატი), a somewhat upscale yet traditional and very relaxed Georgian restaurant not far from our hotel. Looks like it’s going to rain today, so I’ll have plenty of time to do some editing in the aging book. I’m in the part of the tunnel where I can now actually see the light at the other end.

Colchis Fountain above is one of the most amazing public art installations I’ve ever seen. It’s so wonderfully over the top.

I captured this enigmative exposure while sitting in my seat (9C) onboard the Boeing 737 800 from Berlin the other day. The capturing process is technically relatively easy and straightforward. Each session typically yields a half a dozen or more potential keepers but I am ruthless and usualy end up trashing all but one or two.

I think this is my seventh or eighth visit to Berlin, and each time is somehow better than the last. I could probably say that about a lot of places. Maybe it’s just me feeling more and more at ease here. If Porto’s USP is its laid-back atmosphere, beautifully aged architecture, and friendly locals, then Berlin offers me a level of diversity, intensity, and inspiration like no other city in Europe.

Especially here in Mitte, where I can easily spend days just walking around serendipitously and never get bored or tired. The diversity aspect is particularly interesting. Even this time of year (arguably the best time to visit Berlin before the seasonal onslaught of riff-raff), you don’t hear much Deutsch spoken in the German capital.

Today’s excellent lunch at a random classic German pub was served by a Croatian fellow, our pasta dinner was presented by a guy from Austria, and the popcorn we bought on the way home for tonight’s film was sold by a Russian gal.

I spent most of the afternoon buzzing after lunch around the gallery district, observing, absorbing, and admiring paintings, photographs, and installations created by artists from all over the world. Far from all the art I saw today was intriguing. Some of it was downright crap. But most of it grabbed me in one way or another. Which is probably one of the reasons I keep returning to Berlin.

I’m fascinated at how Berlin has managed to maintain its relevance and influence for so long – across two world wars, a brutal occupation, and then 41 years of soul-crushing communism (1949 – 1990).

This was our view last night after a cold, windy but sunny Monday. From November until right about now, Sweden is a mostly inhospitable place to live. Unless you live in the far north where there’s a proper winter. A friend recently moved to Åre, about the halfway mark of Sweden’s length and he absolutely loves it.

As of last night’s sunset, I have hope that spring will arrive early and the sun will warm us up again.

Saturday. Malmö. Foggy.

During dinner the other night, “You Need a Hero” from the playlist “Joakim’s Favorites” was played. Charlotte chuckled and asked if that’s the song I’d want at my funeral if I die before her. I replied that it was “Georgy Porgy” by Toto that should be played. It’s both light-hearted and groovy, and it would feel great to have the old music heroes “Luke” and “Jeff” accompany the journey to Valhalla. The mythological one, not the crusty bathhouse in Gothenburg, that is.

In the chorus of “You Need a Hero,” Richard Page (who later became one of the four that made up the band Mr. Mister) sings: “You Need a Hero, Someone to Rescue You, There’s Someone That You Can Run To.” Even though I’ve heard the song at least a couple of hundred times, that line still leaves an impression every time I hear Page sing it. I had ChatGPT analyze the song’s lyrics:

The repeated need for a “hero” suggests a deep yearning for someone who can offer emotional support and stability, which is a fundamental human need according to attachment theory. Attachment theory, proposed by John Bowlby, emphasizes the importance of having close emotional bonds with others for psychological well-being.

Is Richard Page referring to himself? Or is it more generally that we all need a hero who can save us from the impending abyss? Is it perhaps a father figure he missed? I can relate to that. Page is said to be deeply religious, so it’s probably Jesus who is his hero. Maybe the song is really a subversive, religious recruitment tune with a good hook…

There’s something comforting about the old songs on my playlist. They’re like old friends who never got old… or forgotten. But sometimes I wonder if I like them most because I’ve heard them so many times. With a few exceptions, most of the songs on the list have never been top-ranked hits, and many of the artists are completely unknown to the masses.

Now and then, I add a new song by a (new to me) artist. That’s how Anderson Paak, Billie Eilish, Allison Russell, Lana Del Rey, and a few others ended up on it. Mostly, it’s tracks by Michael Franks, Simple Minds, Zeppelin, Prince, Gabriel, Scritti Politti, Manhattan Transfer, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Alan Parsons, Warren Zevon, Zappa, Beatles, Yello, Yes, Zero 7, Massive Attack, Bo Kaspers, Blacknuss, Joni, Sky, Carlton, Hall & Oates, Boston, Fourplay, Eva Cassidy, Gadd, Fugees, Vanelli, Satriani, Rickie Lee, and the old household god Marc Jordan.

It was probably not until I was 16 that I started to listen to music seriously. We were a group of friends who sneered at most of what was played on the radio and out in public, and we took every opportunity to request songs we knew DJs didn’t have in their collections.

We mixed cassette tapes for each other and could sit for hours downing pots of coffee at Café Jungans and discussing music before crossing Avenyn to Domus and scrutinizing the backs of album covers to see who played, who produced, who mixed, and who “mastered” the records.

In 1985, a regular vinyl record in Sweden cost up to a hundred kronor, and an import from Japan could go for a whopping 400 kronor. If just a few from the “studio mafia” were listed on the back or in the inner sleeve, like Umberto Gatica, Lenny Castro, Nathan East, David Foster, Paulinho da Costa, Steve Gadd, Jay Graydon, Lee Sklar, Michael Landau, Dean Parks, Al Schmitt, Chuck Findley, Jerry Hey, or old Bill Reichenbach, it could be enough to convince us that the record would probably be worth the money even if the artist was completely unknown.

I’ll never forget when Abe Laboriel and Alex Acuña from the band Koinonia – who had a gig at Scandinavium – suddenly showed up at the bar at Gothia Hotel and were just the nicest guys.

The other week, my daughter Elle sent me a great song by Wings that I had either forgotten or completely missed. It felt hopeful that some of “my” old favorite artists would live on in her playlist.

Two of the arguably more important tasks as parents have probably been to pass on one’s slightly twisted humor and eclectic taste in music. The rest will always sort itself out.

Here’a link to You Need A Hero and Georgy Porgy.

Captured this during yesterday’s long lunch at Olivera. More and more, I’m finding how these handheld, long-exposure moments unveil the unseen, the felt, the lived experiences of my life and look upon the everyday with new eyes.

This is the gorgeous facade of Selina Coworking aka Charlotte’s office for our week in Porto. The loft apartment a few blocks from Selina that we’ve rented (and from where I do my writing) is nice and roomy but won’t hold a candle to Charlotte’s beautiful working space. We’ve become fans of Selina’s laidback hotel/hostel/coworking concept after staying and/or working at their properties in Thailand (Phuket), Austria (Bad Gastein), and Portugal (Lisbon/Porto).

If you haven’t been to Porto yet, I humbly suggest you put this amazing city at the very top of your bucket list. From now until May is arguably the best time of year for a weeklong visit. Not too hot, not too crowded, and easy to get a table for decent dining.

Returning to Porto is beginning to feel like coming home, a sentiment I share with Lisbon and a handful of other remarkable cities where I’ve had the privilege of staying for extended periods. Among these, Porto stands out as one of the most vibrant and visually intriguing. Like the Portuguese capital, Porto’s terrain is super hilly. And though I’m ignorant in the fields of engineering, construction, and architecture, I can still appreciate the challenges that had to be overcome in this city’s undulating, urban landscape.

The construction of thousands of tall, stone buildings along the city’s steep roads, many leading steeply up from the Rio Douro river and adorned with intricately designed, colorful ceramic tiles – is nothing short of astonishing and what makes Porto so uniquely visit-worthy.

During the 1920s and 1930s, local architects in Porto, much like their counterparts in New York City and Miami, embraced the Art Deco movement with enthusiasm, which explains the numerous stunning facades, and entrances like the one above, so tastefully decorated with design elements from that aesthetically pleasing era.