January Fog along the Danube

  Yesterday, while strolling by the Danube, and seeing, in a first phase frankly nothing, and then an odd shape here and there, it dawned on me that I haven’t written a weather complaint based piece for a long time, and since I consider myself pretty good at this exercise, such failings must be promptly corrected,…

Black and White February

Since it now really seems that spring is finally around the corner, with temperatures, ahem, soaring above 5 and sometimes even 10 degrees Celsius, the fog mostly gone in the morning and some occasional sun too, I felt I should gather all the leftover fog, mist and various other levels of gloom shots in sort…

Budapest in the Fog

Since we’re still waiting for that elusive snow-and by the looks of it, we might very well wait forever and then some, this year’s moody Budapest winter tries to compensate with other phenomena, such as this weekend’s insistent fog. And it looks quite spectacular too, especially as it hovers over the Danube, filtering the rays…

First Random of 2016

Before we tackle any other subject, it must be noted that the prized exhibit of this series of shots is the absolutely worst picture taken of the festive trolley bus by anyone this season or, possibly, ever. If Henri Cartier-Bresson considered the decisive moment to be the best moment for taking a shot, this particular…

Fog Moves in Mysterious Ways

I like to take proverbs (and mostly anything) with a pinch of salt, but it’s dawned on me recently that I quite agree with the Romanian one stating that you know a good day by its morning. Which in my case, in utter conflict with everything my younger self believed in, is an early morning….

Island in the Fog

One of the most exciting things about going to Óbudai island when it is not ’THE’ island is stop in your tracks, intently stare down some bushes and ferns, and over-excitedly go ’oh, this is the Colosseum!’. You might even shriek a little to accompany your discovery, thus scaring stiff the occasional random dog or…

Torino My Love

Sunday morning in Turin, and I was on a casual stroll on the foggy banks of the Po, when a little old lady with the compulsory little dog swaddled in a tiny jacket walks up to me. Mind you, in Italy even the dogs wear really thick jackets in what could only be indulgently called…

Time for Those Foggy Mornings

Every year people complain that winter comes suddenly: there’s Indian summer and then the freezing winds of the Arctic, and you can’t ever really wear your autumn jacket because you’re either too hot or too cold in it. I am coming to think that the famous transition period- probably should be October-never really existed. It’s…