A few days ago I ascended the wide stairs from the garden and turned a corner. Suddenly I stood in front of La Seu, the imposing cathedral of Palma. The morning sun beamed through the large 14th century rose window, one of the world’s largest Gothic church windows, and covered the tall stone pillars in a beautiful rainbow light. Soon after we entered, a Catholic mass commenced and the giant hall was filled with song and organ music.
So I’m back from a weekend in Marseille and more. The town itself reminded me of Gothenburg and San Francisco. All three have a riverfront, lots of hills, an island fortress and a lot of great seafood restaurants. But I remembered the seedy streets from the 1971 movie “French Connection” and wondered how much it had changed in 40 years.
Some cities have a sweet spot where I tend to return. It’s like a magnet and I don’t know why. 12 years ago, I walked alone along the Thames riverfront in London. This was one year before the London Eye wheel was built. I came to the Jubilee Gardens and sat down on a bench.
Back from a short trip to Ireland, where we managed to squeeze in a concert with Explosions In The Sky in Dublin, soaking up Titanic memorabilia in Belfast and finally got to jump around at Giant’s Causeway in the northernmost part of the country.
Pam Mendel recently photographed her packing for Antarctica, perhaps inspired by the recent image of Frank Chimero’s daytime packing? It made me remember an article I read a while back, I wanna be a flashpacker by Amanda Kendle where she writes about how she changed from backpacker to flashpacker.
Since Sweden has had the coldest December month in 110 years, I thought it would be at least a bit warmer in central Europe. But the streets of Hungary’s capital are absolutely freezing. Fortunately there are lots of places with hot goulash to escape the chill, and not to forget the famous thermal baths all over the city.
You’ve all seen the Matt Harding dance and earlier this year I wrote about Bearded journey. Now it’s time again for another inspiring movie where a man walks across America from New York to San Francisco.
Some time ago I traveled around in Iran with friends. It’s about time to write something about the journey and maybe inspire someone to visit this secluded country.
Travel hosts tend to come in different flavors, but most of them are curious, positive and charismatic. Everybody loves Michael Palin in his quirky British way and Megan McCormick is adorable even when she’s wading through a mosquito-infested swamp. But what about all those people who just don’t have the talent for it? Or all those people who honestly suck at being travel guides? Worst of all, imagine those who doesn’t even like traveling but have to do it anyway. Meet Karl Pilkington.
I’m writing this at a window some hundred meters above the streets of Warsaw, the capital of Poland. Staying at the five-star hotel InterContinental Warsaw which offers a good view of the city. Even though it’s only the 55th tallest building in Europe, it’s the tallest hotel in Poland and the third tallest in Europe.
