I believe last year I skipped whites from my colour series. In the tropics, it is really easy to overlook, put it down as a conspicuous lack of colour, but sometimes in the strong and dazzling December sun, even the whites dance and shine.
The elaborate dragon motifs on the temple roof are Chiang Rai’s famed White Temple, and most of the flower photos were taken at the New Year flower festival on the same day, among the million reds, oranges, pinks and purples – still one of my favourite events in Thailand.
Bonus photo at the very end: my sister’s snow white deaf cat (one blue eye, one yellow eye, still hoping to take a good photo of him one of these days soon).
Nope, I haven’t been entangled into a time warp, unfortunately; these photos date back to my first spring with my first ever digital camera. All of them were taken in our garden. At the moment, in real time, it’s just the first shoots, buds and leaves, and a carpet of violets, which is pretty but doesn’t really translate to a photo, so I really wanted to remind myself what is still coming.
Feels like I’m super busy and super tired, though all I’m doing is growing my son, bouncing back and forth between doctors and their stupid documents, cooking the occasional meal, and watching stupid movies…. there are storms of tropical proportions in my heart and mind, and it takes heaps of energy to try to keep up at least a semblance of sanity.
These tropical lights are difficult. Harsh and unforgiving during the day, no escape, but you still want to capture those moments dear to your heart. Giving you that golden hour at dusk, when you wish your entire being was a huge camera, able to absorb and reflect back all those lights. Stunning you out of your senses when the clouds roll in.
I don’t know why my destructive, overwhelming, unbearable attraction to the dramatic and over-the-top. Places, colours, people, experiences. Even to me, it does not seem to follow naturally from my personality. Still a mystery. But it is what it is. My life blown to pieces, my heart still yearning for those glimmering lights and colours that make me feel alive.
It’s gonna be fine, but being stuck this way, halfway, between two lives, just waiting… it’s sometimes more than I can take….
Photos only – dedicated to Anemone
(Sorry, just too sad to write anything today.)
This post is dedicated to David, who is a fan of the Asian market experience ;-)
Moni is a tiny village serving as “base camp” for trips to the famous colour-changing Kelimutu lakes. On Mondays, people from the nearby mountain villages as well as the seaside fishing settlements come to trade fish, vegetables, fruits, and general household items. Definitely no supermarkets around here. But everything is super fresh, and you definitely won’t get sick of pesticide overdose here.
I wonder how many years before these handmade ikat sarongs and blankets, which take weeks to to weave, will be completely replaced by cheap Chinese junk.
For half a day, the village is complete chaos and mayhem. Not really for lack of space, more like lack of common sense, they also block the main road of the island as well. Way too many people in way little space. But it’s a nice experience. Even a shabby place like this is exploding with colours. The thing I miss the most now that I had to come back to Europe after 12 years of Asia. All those colours…..
Just a pile of photos of the wonderful temples, temple yards, people, and village streets of Luang Prabang.
When I first went to Luang Prabang in 2003, I didn’t have a camera. There I was, surrounded by black, gold, red, glitter, the November full moon festivities, dragon boats, a million candles, and I couldn’t take a single picture. So I had to go back for years later. And then, I lost my photos, only to be recovered almost by accident, three years later. It was a long wait. Many full moons have come and gone, and I’ve travelled a lot since, but if I look back at the pictures now, the simple, humble wooden temples still shine.
I believe all of these photos are from the most famous one, Wat Xieng Thong, at the bank of the mighty Khong, where the naga king resides. I hope in a lucky moment it is still possible to have it all to yourself. Except for the resident monks, of course.