Autumn in Gothenburg
For many the autumn is a season of melancholy. Some sort of confirmation that decay is the fate of all mankind, while we gaze upon the colorful trees as the last vestiges of beauty.
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For many the autumn is a season of melancholy. Some sort of confirmation that decay is the fate of all mankind, while we gaze upon the colorful trees as the last vestiges of beauty.
Kent is one of the most popular bands in Sweden and tonight they played their last gig ever in Gothenburg, as part of their farewell tour.
The capital of the United States, Washington D.C., features an impressive array of historical artifacts and buildings. To visit them in somewhat chronological order, the National Archives is a great start.
Manhattan is like a Russian doll of subcultures and neighborhoods. The more I scratch the surface, the more I realize how little I know of the city. Few parts of New York are more steeped in mystery than Lower East Side.
We meet again, New York. It’s been 15 years since last time. I was young and curious with unrealistic expectations, while you were still in recovery from a horrible event.
I didn’t expect to be back in Krakow four months later, but here I am. The city was already beautiful in spring but it’s absolutely gorgeous in summertime as well.
Here we go again. The outdoor festival Way Out West in Gothenburg is becoming a summer tradition. Unfortunately, another tradition is the rain which was back to epic proportions.
As I stand on top of the hill called Cerro San Cristobal, I realize how big Santiago really is. A sea of buildings stretch as far as the eye can see. The shiny Gran Torre Costanera, tallest building in South America, is covered in smog to a backdrop of the snow-clad Andes.
My weary feet have finally reached Valparaiso, the colorful city in western Chile. After almost a month of traveling across the South American continent I realize that this is as far south as I will come, due to weather conditions.
That infamous piece of pulp literature by E. L. James may have fifty shades of them, but Lima seems to be eternally shrouded in only one kind of grey.