Train Market

The Commuter Train No.4382 from Mae Klong to Ban Laem in Maeklong Market, Samut Songkhram, Thailand

Sommerferie 2009

July and August are the months when many Danes take time off from work for ''sommerferier'' or summer holidays. So after a reminder from a friend, that I too have been working hard all year establishing myself in Copenhagen, I realized that I also deserved a break.

So on June 28, my ''sommerferie'' began at Roskilde Music Festival.

West camping grounds at Roskilde Festival

My blue tent

9 days later, sunburnt, exhausted and deafened from camping, 17 concerts, and 67,412 other festival goers, there came an offer to decompress on the Baltic Sea. It was the best kind of music to my ears.

I gladly accepted and was soon on the overnight ferry from Køge to the island of Bornholm, and what I initially thought would be a short 4 day trip became the most important days of my summer filled with the five fundamental 'R's of life: rest, relaxation, relation, rejuvenation and re-inspiration. While on Bornholm, time stood still, but while sitting on the bus 10 days later journeying back across Sweden, I knew it had passed too quickly.

Crossing the Öresund Bridge from Sweden to Denmark

With commitments successfully accomplished after 2 days back in Copenhagen, I had no need nor desire to stay put in the big city. Thus when I was asked to join a semi-work weekend in Aalborg, a part of Denmark I had not yet visited, I did not hesitate to accept despite the city's poor reputation.

View of Aalborg from Hotel Hvide Hus

How could I say no to the job or rather, the opportunity to photograph the Aalborg Museum of Modern Art, knowing the images will be used as creative inspiration for an upcoming film and lighting project. This was yet again a perfect way to continue the summer holiday.

Aalborg Museum of Modern Art

Finally, having managed travel all month by ferries, trains and buses, there had to unfortunately be a carbon emitting flight to Scandinavia's volcanic country on the North Atlantic Ocean. After all, what is a ''sommerferie'' without a journey to the glaciers of Iceland?

Next time however, I will take the ferry...

Other life priorities have had to be put forward and Kleejourneys apologizes to her readers for the lack of blog postings recently. However, if you can be patient, an extremely large stock of new ''sommerferie''photos will be shared in the upcoming weeks. So please stay tuned...

Paris finale

Compared to tiny Copenhagen, Paris is a huge, dense and vibrant city buzzing with life. How nice that for 5 days, I could clear my mind and fulfill my needs...

...at anytime and anywhere

with the virtual world left behind

À bientôt!

La Seine

View from Point Nôtre Dame

Ode to Couchsurfing

During 119 days of travel, my accommodation needs were covered by:

24 Couchsurfing hosts - 68 days

3 friends/contacts - 14 days

16 hotel/hostels - 9 in Morocco, 3 in Spain, 4 in Italy

21 days of apartment rental

After doing this breakdown, I have to thank the Couchsurfing project. Not just because the financial hole in my pocket did not run so deep, but also for the members whom I met for coffee or drinks and those who hosted and spent time with me. Thank you for sharing your lives and keeping me safe and sane.

Please do click here to see my latest profile on couchsurfing and to get an overview of my hosts/friends and the references they shared.

Jeg er i København

Even in Berlin, the road to Copenhagen lay before me

March 26, 2008 I left Canada. On July 23, after 119 days of travel, I finally arrived in Copenhagen, Denmark...to stay? Yikes! Please send me your best wishes. I will need it for surviving in this expensive country.

Rain, rain go away...

...come again another day.

Motorcyclist wearing inner tube

The weather forecast called for 3 days of rain from Tuesday to Thursday, the days we planned to travel from Lisbon to Algeciras at the southern tip of Spain.

Come Tuesday morning, the clouds had set in but the early morning showers has subsided. I was convinced. The weatherman was as usual wrong and we climbed aboard the bike and manouevered our way through traffic, out Lisbon. I called my goodbye out loudly, but as always, my head within the helmet, only I could hear the words. I had had such a beautiful time in Lisbon and wasn´t sure how ready I was to leave.

(A special thanks to Carlos and Katerina for their cosy attic, hospitality and introduction to "Eu Desconfio")

It was only one hour into our journey when the view through my visor was disrupted by steady drops of rain. Nevertheless, with our weather protective clothing on and electronic equipment specially packed within plastic, we were ready to face the water. But just like I have seen other motorcyclists taking shelter under a bridge, I soon found myself in a similar situation. Except, I was crouched, hidden from traffic on one side by Enrique, and on the the other by the motorbike, my bladder unable to hold that morning´s tea. The rest of Tuesday´s journey should have been foreseen from this highway sight.

The rain persisted, but determined to make some distance, so did we and soon, the town of Beja was in sight. Slipping and sliding over the wet and slippery cobblestone roads, the search for an internet café began. We still had hopes of finding a host that night and the internet was our only link to the world of couchsurfing. At the public library, the free internet access did not bring good accomodation news but the café did provide much needed comfort food, warmth and the ability to dry my gloves under the bathroom handdryer. With no couch offer in Beja, and the illusion of feeling regenerated, we got back on and rode out of town. We would continue until dark, cross the border and sleep in Spain that night.

Aroche was a quaint little town at the top of a hill just 30km from the Portuguese border. I was excited. We would find a room with a beautiful view. Ten minutes upon arrival, we soon discovered that Aroche was also a village with only one hostal that closed over a year ago. And in 15 minutes, it was also the place where we discovered our first flat tire. There were no more options. We had to take a risk and travel to Cortegana, the next town or, sleep by the side of the road. I remained calm. The only pressure that needed to increase was that of the back tire. So there I stood soaked, in the petrol station puddle, pushing the button of an air pressure machine inaccordance to the starts and stops being called out to me. The needle gauge reached 3, the tire was filled to the maximum, we headed out into black.

The rain pelted down hard, the darkness loomed. Bright headlights of oncoming trucks glared straight ahead, penetrating through my rain splattered visor. I am aware it is the only protection for my face and eyes, a reflection fearful of a tire that was loosing air faster than we were traveling.

In the mist, Cortegana revealed herself, soon followed by the small hostal situated across from the pig slaughterhouse, only found by the sign that read "Bar, Restaurante". Finally, the day was over, 11:30pm, the lights were out, the room temperature was set to the maximum at 30 degrees celsius, the 2ft x 2ft shower was fogged from use and we were sound asleep. All was quiet except for the rumbling of stomachs digesting the handful of pistachio nuts that was dinner.

First Ride to Porto

It was 1pm and we were all set, helmets on, baggage loaded, ready to embark on day one of our journey to Portugal. But at the click of the red button, the silence of a quiet motor that would not start was deafening. It was obvious, our next stop was to be the local garage.

Three hours later, after a nice lunch with friends (Dani and Tis) by the waterfront,and a wave of electrical, engine and battery testing that proved nothing wrong, we finally set off from Vigo.

"Warmth, sun, speed, beautiful coastlines, old villages, salty smells, sea spray, ferry ride, cold, wind, dark, pressure, headlights, speeding trucks, fumes" - The ride was more than I ever imagined and I wouldn´t have wanted to be anywhere else but behind Enrique as he expertly worked the motorcycle. By 9pm, we were in Porto.

The helmet fits

After 2 days in Vigo Spain, I will leave today on a motorcycle journey through Portugal, Southern Spain and Morocco. The driver of the bike is Enrique Diaz and our first stop is Porto.

I hope that we won't get stuck in the dessert as the motorbike has once done.

Photo by Enrique Diaz

As well as following my trip through kleejourneys, please also take the time to look at 7cero, Enrique´s blog for additional fabulous photos and stories.

Gate 34 - Toronto Pearson International

After 2 weeks of goodbyes and a final one at the passenger drop off platform with Dave and Liz, it was 4:30pm and I was already checked in and ready and wating in the departure lounge to board my 7:15 pm flight to Amsterdam. The airport was calm, as I also unexpectedly found myself. I was ready to embark upon this journey.

Gate 31 - Pierre Elliot Trudeau, Montreal

Seems like home to me by Two Gallants

Airports are pitstops of thought, places symbolic of personal and physical movement. This is the second of what will hopefully be a series of photographs that reflect my journey in the next year while I wander out to embrace new experiences and search for my way home.

This is the first photo. You can read about "Gate 41" here.

Barcelona Revisited

Press play down below.
Now you can now you can watch the slideshow while listening to music!

The blog is indeed progressing well...(Thanks Enrique! This one's for you)

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Devil Do by Holy Golightly and the Brokeoffs

Outbound

On March 26, exactly 2 months from now, I will be on my way to Europe.

First stop: Escanecrabe, in the Midi-Pyrénées region of France (capital is Toulouse)

Then, onward, westbound to Vigo, in Galicia Spain

Windsor, Ontario

I got an opportunity to travel to Windsor, Ontario last week, for the second time around. Admittedly, Windsor is not my number one choice of city to visit and it was work that took me there. But having not gone anywhere for a couple of months and being there with an adventurous work collegue, I was determined to see Windsor with open eyes. After all, travelers can't be choosers.

First of all, here are some facts I learnt about the city:

It is the southern most city in Canada.

It is known as the "automotive capital of Canada"

It is across the river from Detroit.

It is connected to Detroit by the privately owned Ambassador Suspension Bridge which carries 27% of the trade between Canada and USA.

It is also connected by the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel.

It's busiest transport truck traffic days are on the bridge are Tuesdays and Wednesdays afternoons.

But more interesting is the variety of night life downtown Windsor has to offer

And some details about the kinds of entertainment you can enjoy

And not be disappointed

Personally noteworthy was our visit to the brightly lit Windsor Casino

where this new extension was just built even though over 200 employees were let go last week due to poor business as of late.

Inside this gambling machine, I withdraw $20.00 cash from the ATM, the amount that I decided I would be willing to loose at playing slots. Now money in hand, how do I pick the best slot machine that will win me a jackpot? I am new at this game and I walk around in a few circles before I settle on a 25cent machine. "Push the button and turn the crank", my experienced collegue tells me, amused at my novelty and innocence in such a place. Ok then, I do just that. With $5.00, I start at 20 points and with each crank, I slowly watch the number going down, down, down, then up, then down, then up.... In no time, my point count is at zero and I turn around with an unhappy pout plastered on my face. Not only had I just lost $5.00 in under 5 minutes, I also now realize the level of anxiety this game was giving me.

But then, maybe I'll try again. With wallet still clutched in my left hand, I pick a new machine and play another $5.00 and at the first crank, the points jump from 20 to 69. Wow! My heart beats faster. Is that right? Quickly I do the math. Did I just gain $17.00? I look for reaffirmation but my collegue is no where to be found. I play some more: the number goes up, down, down, up, until finally fear takes over and I cash out at $15.00, happy to not be in the negative.

Now with 3 five dollar bills in hand, I think, why not spend the gain and see if there's one more chance to raise funds for Architecture for Humanity and my trip next year. Again, I watch the points drop and rise one by one. At $2.50 remaining, I wonder if I should stop. No, I continue taking chances, my heart and hope still thumping away, right until zero.

That's it, it is definitely time to quit and we leave the casino soon after. I am happy that I have broke even, not lost any money until I think about the $3.00 service charge at the bank machine. Damn, it really is a gamble.

(Sorry, no photography allowed inside the casino)

Travellers

I have so many close friends who are either traveling or about to embark upon a journey. May you travel safe and find a private toilet when you need it.

Pato, are you alien or photographer?

Gate 41

It was only 8pm and Gate 35 was already filled many passengers, eyes glued to a blarring TV, waiting for the 22:35 AC flight 156 back to Toronto. Damn it! My feet kept walking. It wasn't yet time to be in the same space with other travellers. I had just spent the last 1 1/2 hours on the ferryride starring into the Pacific ocean horizon.

Airport lounges are interesting spaces, always humming with activity or dead silent except for the sound of the floor polisher. Nevertheless, a place where my energy and emotions run high and low. My vacation was over, I had to say goodbye and the solitude of Gate 41 was more appealing that night.

Victoria Bound

BC Ferries began in 1960 and is known as for "safety, spectacular scenery, and a proud maritime history".

The journey starts from the Tsawwassen terminal in Vancouver to Swartz Bay, Victoria. In the summer, the ferries run every hour. We travelled on an even hour (noon) boat which meant taking an older Queen ferry, without bells and whistles and with safety announcements nobody can understand. No matter. For only $11.95, I got to enjoy 1 1/2 hours of ocean air, and horizon, mountain and island vistas, all on the starboard sunny side of the vesssel!

Others did the same

Active Pass is the body of water we travelled through between Galiano Island and Mayne Isalnd. It was one of the most picturesque moments of the journey.

Apparently, a wide variety of wildlife such as seals and sea lions can be seen in the pass. I looked... (bhah!)

Vancouver Bound

The windows of an airplane are like peepholes into life's bigger picture. When flying, I always try to get the window seat. For a while after leaving Toronto, it was a flat checker board of green and brown as we flew over Prairieland and admitedly, I retreated back to my book. The next time I looked out again, I saw this.

followed by this,

and finally, it took a breathtaking view of Mount Baker to start a conversation between me and the passenger sitting to my right.

Copenhagen, Denmark - Introduction

First, I have to say, I love København! My blog from July 4, "Stockholm Stadsbibliotek" briefly touches upon the inspiration of my friend Harley and my facination with Scandinavia.

In June 2006, I travel to Denmark on a solo journey, ready to immerse myself into Danish design, architecture, culture. I had three weeks, no friends there and no plan. Surprisingly, it turned out that Harley's sister Judy was living in København and thanks to Erland, his brother, I was put in contact with her and with Johanne, a fashion design student. Coincidence, good karma or was Harley's positive spirit still around?

I was meant to visit this country and fall in love with it!

My time in København is a lifetime memory, one that is so amazingly beautiful and life altering that it becomes almost impossible to describe. But I will try to express in words and photos over a few chapters, the tales, chance meetings and experiences that continued to hit me while I was there.

Stockholm Stadsbibliotek

My friend Harley Jacoubsen passed away in October 2004 after fighting for many years with a physically disabling condition called neurofibromatosis. He was an inspiration to me and many others. In his memory, The Jacoubsen, Residence for Independant Living was conceived and developed as my final thesis interior architecture project.

The Jacoubsen addresses the need for quality living amongst the physically disabled by offering accessible and secure, functional and modern apartment suites in the heart of Montreal. The residential building also responds to the alienation of city dwellers living in an urban environment by providing open gathering areas as well as quiet personal spaces. The project took many hours of hard work from conceptualization to final presentation in order to make the space work effectively, functionally and aesthetically. This is the outcome.

Plan view of main floor

View of central core Café/Lounge

The design of the internal public space on the main floor incorporates a multi-level eating/lounge area that overlooks down into the circular core of the café and universal bar. All areas are fully accessible by a ramp system spiraling up and around the central space or by stairs at one end.

Two years later, on May 25, 2007, I walked for 3 hours in Stockholm in search of the Stadsbibliotek (1928) or the "poor city library in Stockholm" designed by Gunnar Asplund. Here's an excellent analysis about the design of the building: From, Formation and Transformation . What I saw made my already rewarding project experience an even better one.

Plan View (Picture Source:palladio.arch.kth.se)

Some of the similarities are uncanny: not just the circular form of the core but also the positioning of the stairs. It's ironic since I only discovered the Stadsbibliotek after my project was already finished. This and many more concurrent coincidences started my passion and pursuit for Scandinavian architecture, culture and design.