I. I’ve fallen in love again. Don’t worry, I still love the GTi with all my horsepower heart but this 35mm lens is just…amazing. It’s fast, powerful in light, small and quite perfect. Just like the GTi, I know. So it’ll be on my shopping list for my next US trip.

(this and all pix taken WITH the 35mm. Here’s another beauty, the D90)

II. In the mean time I miss my car so much that I kind of forced my friend to take a testdrive at VW here in Zürich. The sound of the engine still lingers like sweet 2.0 in my ears and I’m thinking about my Tiggy at home in the garage.

III. Cheese. Back in cheese country I will do what most Swiss don’t in summer. Have cheese fondue. To compensate for the violation of tradition I will gulp some mojitos down for dessert.

And last. Holiday. It’s tough but somebody’s gotta do it.

and the freedom from Internet, email, blogging and Twitter perfectly replaced by sturdy cows, playful dogs, sunsets and windy beaches. Works.

Red Heeler Riba at play.

Eriks Hale and its characteristic little beach houses.

Riba loves her worn tennis ball. But she doesn’t like to be teased, clearly demonstrated here.

How five Danes move a not-so-motivated cow. The attempt failed instantly and the cow was later moved by a tractor. I think. One should not underestimate the power of a highly reluctant cow.

Sunset at Store Bælt bridge connecting the Danish islands of Sjælland and Fyn.

Today was not a good camera day. I was not really up for it for starters and second it poured half the day. Maybe I’m a nightowl when it comes to photos? Somehow the day ended better than it started, photowise.

Since I met this really sweet, funny and cool Swiss flight crew at the hotel lobby I haven’t had one single boring moment. They invited me to tag along and from being solo I suddenly had a temporary family of 8.

So back to the clichés. Since yesterday I had some great dining experiences and of course they include things like duck, lamb, oysters, baguettes, creme brulé, rose wine and very French waiters. Even if I’m constantly hungry I get fed properly at least, with this crew being the guides to good food. I ended today with a not so French but sublime meal at an Italian place called Pépone Cafe just around the block and some few meters from my last photo object of this trip. Au revoir for now.

Exploring the French cliche’s, part deux.

• In a country lacking proper breakfast traditions you might as well sleep in. And sleep in good. So that you’re ready for lunch at say…14.30.

• Ever wondered why so many French cars have ugly bumps? The respect for traffic rules, other drivers and other cars are as developed as their breakfast habits. Still. There is a LOVE for cars. And I’m not complaining.
• Tourists. Not as rowdy as expected but everywhere, slow, in baseball caps, sweat, couples and groups.

• Paintings and statues at some museum. It think it was called The Louvre. At times impressive beyond comprehension, sometimes dissapointing. Because the aircondition wasn’t working properly and that was the reason I went in the first place. But an OK place to kill some time. Unless the museum guards try to pick you up. Is that even allowed?

• The Metro IS the easiest, fastest and most inexpensive way to get around. The stations are also gorgeous, both platforms, entrances and exits.

So what have we learned from our first day in Paris?

• Avoid morning flights on vacation. I fell asleep the moment I sat down in my seat and woke up by the aircraft landing in Paris. Then took a slightly too long powernap of four hours.
• Charles de Gaulle airport is a giant riddle game ground. It took me longer to get out than than to learn French. And I don’t speak French.
• The cliché is complete. Everywhere there are locals running around with baguettes, mostly on a scooter with their girlfriend in the back munching on the baguette.
• Avoid obvious tourist spots. I will at most pass it quickly, take a snapshot with the wideangle that allows me to stay out of the crowd.
• Don’t promise to keep this blog updated unless you know there’s really wifi in the rooms.

Yours truly, from Place Pigalle and Villa Royale’s wifi equipped lounge signing off and retiring to Jean-Paul Gaultier. (And it is a crazy hotel but it almost deserves its own post. We’ll see.)

Left to right: Some wall near Montmartre. My hotel. My lunch beverage.

Where am I?

Clue: Small, nordic country + approx. 3 hours by car from either Skagen and or Malmö.

I doubt you enjoy images from these exhibitions in general, they look pretty much the same. But the (we) Danes…they’re just..reluctant to plain ordinary. “Det er jo klart vi ska ha heste, bile, hunde og öl, det er jo messe!”

Danmark ER dejligt. And I’m not saying that for obvious patriotic reasons. A routine drive to Fredericia for a show on highways turned out more interesting than expected, photo-wise. Photo: H. Adamsson.

Greve, a small town just outside Copenhagen hid a beautiful wide beach behind the restaurant.

Storebaelt Bridge connecting Sjaelland and Fyn.

Coffee break in Odense.

Heading back to Sweden, Oeresund Bridge connecting Denmark and Sweden.

At which airport can women enjoy this view from the ladies room? Goldstar for details.

Iceland is the strangest place. Can you go west anywhere else and have a two-hour jetlag? The Icelandic scenery takes me back to 1992 when our family drove through the Nevada desert. Only, here it’s 30 degrees colder with a freezing wind and snowy mountain tops.

I haven’t seen a single normal tree on the island (but apparently 0,3-1% of Iceland is woodland. It will not be this trips mission to find it). This makes the landscape look bare and the exposed houses and neighborhoods seem newly developed.

In this spirit I had one fantastic day. First an inspiring three hour workshop at the symposium, then a two-hour ride on Icelandic horses in the vast, lava-covered landscape, met a very sweet Japanese couple that not only shared my crush on Seattle but also had the Blue Lagoon on their itinerary after riding. This place is a must go when in Iceland. One hour pleasure, relaxation and total recovery of your soul, mind and body in a huge, natural, hot, outdoor pool surrounded by black lava. Since I only have two half days to explore I split it up between riding+lagoon and on Saturday after the symposium a geyser trip.

And I’m completely and utterly exhausted plus my Ischial Tuberosity hurt badly. Note to self: Consider taking up riding again.

Dear Diary. While slowly filling my 7-day 4-wheel spinner Samsonite for a fresh 5-day Icelandic spring symposium I’m preparing the seasonal white asparagus with hollandaise sauce for a light (?) dinner.

Unpacking from my last little weekend trip to Copenhagen I also remember why bringing the SAS in-flight magazine Scanorama with me. Liked the new design, retro as to remind the passengers of times of excellent in-flight service: now just a faint memory and simple as yet another reminder of the service of today. But I won’t go on about SAS and their poor excuse for ’service’ - after all it’s better to stay on good terms with the people that might have to save your life one day.

My Easter holiday in Switzerland is best described in list format. Efficient and precise.

Culture: ‘The International’, ‘Monsters vs Aliens’, ‘Keinohrhasen’ & ‘Gran Torino’. The Castles at Bellinzona.

“When in Rome…”: Driving in holiday traffic through the St Gotthard tunnel. Surprisingly short queue. Or so I hear. Apparently slept through the 17 km long tunnel according to driver.

Food: Very much and very good. Ticino pizza, Salsiccia lasagne and white Nutella spread among many things.

Weather: Very sunny and very rich of birch pollen.

Scenery: Zürichsee and cherry blossoming, snowy mountain tops at St. Gottard gas station and beautiful Lake Lugano in bliss Saturday haze.

Note to self for the next time: bring allergy pills in ADVANCE. Don’t be angry at yourself for not bringing the tripod for the camera when you go to beautiful places - it’s your own fault. Try to not eat as much as the guys around you - it’s not a competition.

There. Hope ya’ll had an equally nice Easter.

Despite the snow there are spring signs here and there even in Västernorrland. First - it’s really sunny, all day. Second there are sounds of drips, drops everywhere of snow melting. And third, animals are coming out:

During lunch at Ö-viks hospital this little fella’ sat on the better side of the window. Ensuring that spring definitely will come this year.

Somewhere on E4 between Sundsvall and Örnsköldsvik, right after dusk, a unusual feeling sets in. Life quality on the road. It’s pronounced “iTunes library in the rental car stereo”.

Who knew that just having your music library with you in the car could make such a difference?

Getting blinded by trucks on, what in the dark feels like little rural by-ways, the narrow parts of E4 or having the “raggare” behind you press on the single lane parts becomes a minor concern with Muse’s “Map of the Problematique” blast in your speakers. Somehow.

Of course this feeling is greatly enhanced by completely run this “raggare” over when we reach the double lanes. Because he underestimated this southerner - his ugly ass old Volvo did not stand a chance when I hit the pedals of my rented, new V50, equipped with a surprisingly zippy engine. He was hopelessly left behind and I was childishly content. As am I with the in-room bathtub. Goodnight from Örnsköldsvik.

Some thoughts on security screening at airports.

Here’s the truth. Airport security also had it with the tedious TSA liquid regulations. Coming home from Florida I even forgot the zipped bag and all my at least 10 containers of various liquids and gel were spread in two carry-ons that quietly rolled out untouched on the other side of the scanner. In both Orlando and Frankfurt. And this is not the first time - every time I fly there’s a liquid that didn’t make it into the bag. But made it through security.

Instead they let you wait while fussing about hairpins, belts and coins in the pocket letting the beep off. When did liquids stop becoming interesting? It must be the “How to hi-jack a Boeing with just a leather belt and a Euro” that’s circulating the internet. Because liquid-made bombs are SO 2006.