Kites Make Right
For most of my time in Bangkok, I’ve been lamenting the less-than-perfect weather and lighting conditions. Two days ago, however, the clouds dissipated and blue skies dominated the air above. Shocked at this fortuitous development, I grabbed a camera, stuffed it into my smaller bag and took it hunting.
I headed towards the vast open park of Sanam Luang that happened to be surrounded by tents where Buddhist monks and worshippers were performing rituals and, well, watching TV. The festive atmosphere extended into the park where more worshippers could be found circling what looked like a temporary shrine. But of more interest to me on was the large number of people flying kites in the windy air.
Adults and kids craned their heads to the skies where dozens of kites danced in the blue skies. Vendors had kites staked down so the ground was covered in colourful streamers. Families sat on mats on the grass and happily watched the ballet above them. It was a great scene.
I didn’t hesitate to bring out my camera. But when I raised it to my eye, composed my first shot, then hit the shutter, I heard a click. That’s all fine and good, but really I should have heard two clicks. The first is the mirror flipping up, the second should have been the mirror flipping back down.
Ever since shooting the water fights of Songkran, the Thai New Year festival, this camera hasn’t been itself. This issue with the mirror sticking up has happened before. Once it has flipped up, I can press the shutter again and it will flip back down (with no image recorded of course). And after a couple times, functionality went back to normal. I could take pictures without a problem. It was like it just needed to warm up.
But no amount of warming up could get my camera going under the kites. It was over thirty degrees out after all. I clicked and clicked, but it just wouldn’t do what it was told. Disheartened I returned to my room, dropped off my defective gear and went to the Internet cafe to search for camera repair shops here in Bangkok.
The next day, the plan was to go out to the shop and see about putting things right inside my camera. The one thing I was worried about was that the shop might be closed – they didn’t list hours on their site and it was, after all, a Sunday. But, I thought I might get lucky. Wrong. Not only was it a Sunday, but I found out later that it was also a national holiday here – there was no chance it was going to be open.
I eventually found my way back to my room where, undaunted by an irritating previous 24 hours, I willed the skies to stay blue. I summoned all the kite fliers back to the park. And with my other camera (yes folks, take a backup!) I headed back to the park where I had a lovely time shooting everyone who once again had their heads happily craned to the skies.
New Photos of Japan
A few new sets of images from Japan are now up in the gallery section. This time it is a bit of old and new with photos from two Kyoto Shrines (the Yasaka Shrine and the Heian Shrine) as well as the brightly-lit Ginza shopping district in Tokyo.
And of course, a few examples of what to expect in the galleries:
Bangkok Bollywood
You know those impromptu dance routines that seem to break out at the drop of a hat in every Bollywood movie ever made? Whenever I see these silly spectacles, in the back of my mind, I’m always hoping that their elaborate choreography and coordinated steps and notes are all improvised, but that a certain Hindu magic keeps the whole thing together. The many arms of Vishnu guide the players like marionettes and no strings ever get tangled.
Unfortunately, that not-totally-believed illusion of mine was shattered last night amidst the Khao San Road Friday night party. Out for a wander, the usual bizarre bohemian hubbub of the road had additional participants. With a crowd of onlookers surrounding them, a somewhat bedraggled man and better-kept woman were learning dance steps from three choreographers. The Indian man wore a black patterned shirt that was presentable enough, but then his jeans were ratty and full suggesting that they may have only been shooting him from the waist up.
But given the footwork they had to learn, I’m guessing a full-body shot or two would make the cut – why learn to wriggle your foot a little bit if no one will see it? The woman wore more traditional Indian garb and was causing a lot of folks to stop and stare. When the cameras weren’t rolling, she looked hot and bored, but when the director counted down, she beamed and took on a zealous, flirty smile shot straight into the camera.
I haver no idea why they were shooting on Khao San Road at the busiest time of the week or if I was watching Indian film history in the making – maybe this was going to wind up being India’s Citizen Kane… the musical version. Really, I know next to nothing about what was going on here and I suspect I never will. That doesn’t dampen how silly it all was.
Watching take after take of a three-second dance move, (many of the predictably ridiculous), just ruined that image of India being a land where you better be prepared to participate in an extravagant dance pageant at any moment. It doesn’t matter if you’re looking for a bed in Mumbai while hauling two big backpacks around – when the feeling hits, you’re going to have to drop everything and strut your stuff.
No, watching two practiced actors attempt relatively simple moves only confirmed that dozens of Indians never really do suddenly communicate with each other in improvised dance and song. If they tried to, carnage would ensue. The papers would speak of the piles of broken bodies. The government would run public service announcements warning against the dangers of spontaneous cabaret shows. The people would live in fear that the song in their hearts would reach their feet and all those around them would be doomed.
The Cleaner Side of Bangkok
The last two days have been a holiday of sorts. Caroline, an old travelling friend from my time in Peru was in the area and her time in Bangkok overlapped with mine for a couple days. With three years between encounters, we had plenty of catching up to do and with the recent news about Arthur’s passing, it was good to have a friendly ear around.
As an added bonus, we spent none of our time on or near the bohemian madness of Khao San Road. In fact, the other side of Bangkok, over in Siam Square and along Sukhumvit there is a whole separate country. It’s a place where foreign people don’t outnumber the locals and when they are present, they aren’t wearing those horrible braids or dreadlocks in their hair. It’s a place where shopping doesn’t mean walking along the road and having suspicious-looking men slyly ask, “Hey buddy, you want nice suit?” at every pace. Nope, over there, they have malls.
Caroline and I spent a good amount of time at Bangkok’s malls indulging in all-too-many food court offerings and chatting up a storm. When our gums got tired of flapping, the movie theatre was only an elevator ride away so we caught both Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and Superman Returns. For the latter, Caroline decided to splurge and we went for the VIP tickets where you get a nice reclining chair, pillow and blanket to make your movie experience that much more cozy.
But now with Caroline gone, I’m again friendless in Bangkok (poor me!) and I have to get back to working on photos. And one of these days I may even take some new ones. Maybe the sky will take some pity on me soon and serve up some good light.
Images of Himeji Castle and Okunoin
As I mentioned in my previous post, instead of being busy exploring Bangkok (I told you, I have plenty of time here!), I have been busy working on processing some of my older images. And perhaps it’s just because Japan is still fresh in my mind, or perhaps it’s just due to my fondness for the country, but I have decided to upload some images from the country I called home a year ago.
I have uploaded images from the Okunoin cemetery on Mount Koya (Koyasan) as well as photos of Himeji Castle. Okunoin is a magical place where ghosts must certainly be happy to roam. It’s a mystical place and is either my favourite or second favopurite cemetery that I’ve visited. (I know some people may find it weird that I like cemeteries, but really, some of them are just beautiful.)
Himeji Castle is a great remnant of Japan’s feudal past. It has survived the ages and countless disasters to remain towering over the city of Himaji.
Here is a couple of samples:
How to Not See Bangkok
I still haven’t seen Bangkok. I’ve been here a few days now and I haven’t wandered too far from my guesthouse. And I’m okay with that.
I have as much time here as I want, so I’m biding my time, waiting for the weather to cooperate. It has rained every day that I have been here, though certainly not all day. It’s been those tropical storms that charge into the city hoping to catch unsuspecting vendors off guard so that wares might be blown away or soaked.
When it’s not raining, it’s threatening to with spitting drops randomly reminding you that the sky is boss and you better pay attention to it. Combine that with the overcast clouds that still manage to let enough sun through to harshly light the scenes on the ground and my camera just doesn’t want to come out to play.
So, I’ve worked and I’ve wandered. The processing of my backlog of photos is progressing nicely as I sit in a room free from distractions. No Internet, no TV, no people. Just me plugging away at images I shot long ago. Until I go out to shoot new ones, I have plenty to keep me busy.
Back to Bangkok
My damp shirt combined with the air-conditioner in this internet cafe are conspiring to make me forget that it’s 30-plus degrees outside. The rain tried to soak me, but only splashed me a little. So, I’m now killing time while the clouds pass.
My overnight bus from Ichinoseki to Tokyo was a relatively restless affair. I lack the ability of most Japanese citizens to fall asleep like a narcoleptic. They can pass out anywhere, anytime. Me, I need a bed, silence, total darkness, no movement and no one around me and even then it’s a dodgy affair. I’m like the princess and the pea, but you’re not allowed to call me princess.
The flights were fine and China Airlies did a fine job on today’s meals including some spanakopita, so that was a nice surprise. Remember to always order the vegetarian meal on flights folks – it always gets served first and the food seems to be a bit better than the usual airline fare.
And now here in Bangkok, just off the ever-popular Khao San Road, I’m feeling a little bit lonely. I’ve just made the transition to solo traveller again and I’m not quite used to it after being surrounded by so many good friends in Japan. Plus, the last time I was here, I had Sarah’s lovely company and we could laugh at the hippie backpacker stereotypes together.
But, since I haven’t seen the city at all really, this will be my chance to check out what will surely be a few impressive sights. They ought to put some travel energy back into my solo traveller feet.
My Second Departure from Japan
This post marks my departure from Japan and a return to travel for me. That means that I won’t have the opportunity to waste endless hours scouring the Internet for all things photographically interesting. Instead, I will now shift back into travel writing mode (and I hope that’s at least somewhat interesting).
My upcoming plans are vague and mutable, but here’s the gist: I will be leaving Japan on July 1st and heading back to Thailand. My return ticket takes me to Bangkok where I will spend a little time photographing the city. When I first swept through the metropolis, I took a stroll up and down Khao San Road, and that was about it before heading off to other parts of Thailand (and many people have said I made a wise choice).
But, I will have at least a week or two to spend in Bangkok and/or nearby destinations inside Thailand. That may turn into a month depending on how much I’m enjoying myself.
When my Thailand fun is finished, the plan is to head down to Australia. The cheapest entry point is Darwin – one of the most Northern cites in the country. I’ve been told that there’s not much good reason to stay in Darwin, so I expect to quickly buy a ticket out of Dullsville (if that’s what it turns out to be).
But that’s where the planning ends. I mean, I don’t even have a guidebook for Australia yet. I just know that soon after arriving in the country, I will likely be putting that working holiday visa of mine to use with whatever job I can find. Prices down under are going to come as a shock to my stretched budget, so I expect to be temping/fruit picking/working construction/dreaming of a photography job/whatever work I can find sooner than later.
I aim to keep posting fun stories and adventures on a regular basis, so I hope you’ll come back and keep up with me.
Photos of Japanese Cherry Blossoms
This April, I was lucky enough to catch the ephemeral Japanese cherry trees in their full spring regalia. The previous year, I circumvented their arrival in Japan by heading on a vacation to the south of the country at exactly the wrong time to catch them.
So I was quite pleased to find myself in a static position in the north of Japan this year and I could let the fleeting flowers come to me and I could see for myself why the Japanese loved these tiny, pink flowers so much. The sakura really are spectacular, though they seem to have special significance to the Japanese and for them, each tree almost seems imbued with divinity.
I have just now uploaded a gallery of photos of cherry blossoms and their arrival in Ichinoseki, Iwate, Japan.
Photos of Bakong in Cambodia
I have just posted a few more galleries of photos from Cambodia. Most of them were shot one gorgeous morning at Bakong temple in the Roluos group, West of Siem Reap.
Inside the moat of Bakong lies not only the ancient, crumbling temple, but also an elementary school with curious students and a practicing monastery with friendly monks willing to make your acquaintance.
Here are some samples from the galleries:
Angkor Wat Photos
Angkor Wat was one of the most magical places I have had the good fortune to visit. The spectacle of the temple has endured for centuries, but I can’t even imagine the grandeur of its appearance at the height of the Khmer empire. To witness Angkor Wat, Ta Prohm, the Bayon or any of the other spectacular temples in the region when they were full of the life of their creators would be a worthy destination for any time traveller.
As it is, without defying the laws of physics, visitors can feel transported backwards to a different era. Yes, most of the bodies populating the temples are tourists, but it’s easy to look beyond them when the scenery is so gorgeous.
I have recently finished processing some of my photos from the area and I have uploaded them to dsphotographic.com. In the gallery section, you will now find images of Angkor Wat, Ta Prohm, and also a gallery of photos featuring the different monks I met at Angkor Wat.
These are, of course, only a few of the sets of photos I have available from the region. As I process photos, more galleries will be available.
Read more about my time spent in the Angkor region here and here.
Lastly, here is a taste of what you will find in the galleries:
Photos of a Shinto Shrine in Nakasato
Not content to have yesterday’s gorgeous weather pass me by while I stayed inside and worked all day, I was compelled to visit one of my favourite places in Ichonoseki, Japan: the shrine on top of the hill in Nakano district.
The cedar-forested hill is as peaceful as you can imagine – the only hint of movement is the slowly undulating shadows on the forest floor as the light passes through the gently swaying tree tops. At the base of the hill is a small garden where a butterfly landed on my cheek as I approached – evidently, with my fully-sprouted beard, I now resemble lichen.
Long stone steps begin at the entrance to the forest and lead up to the shrine. Less than halfway up the steps is a group of miniature stone houses where spirits undoubtedly live. A red-bibbed Jizo statue also chooses this isolated location to loiter.
The shrine itself isn’t Japan’s largest, most beautiful or most holy, but it certainly gets high ranks for peacefulness. During my whole time there yesterday, I only saw one other person willing to hike up the plentiful steps to reach a piece of privacy. I can only imagine the experience of visiting some of Kyoto’s temples in such solitude. If it was ever possible, lonely visitors to those places were lucky.
I took along my camera despite the harsh midday light. Here are my three favourite shots of the visit:
Travel Photos of the Poi Sang Long Festival
When re-launching the site, I couldn’t very well go ahead and put up a new site without adding some new images. That just wouldn’t do. So, in an effort to give some fresh content, may I present you with my my photos of the Poi Sang Long Festival in Chiang Mai.
This fantastic event celebrates the ordination of the new novice monks that belong to the Thai Yai and Shan peoples of the area. For three days these boys are dressed up as princes and carried around by their family and friends – their feet aren’t supposed to touch the ground the whole time.
Their brilliant dress, makeup and headwear made for a spectacular scene that was only overshadowed by the joy of the festivities.
Photographing Northern Taiwan
Taiwan shares its ancestry with its behemoth neighbour China, but the compact island nation has a personality all its own. A traditional legacy resides in the hearts of the older generation and the cultural heritage of Taiwan explicitly reflects this tie to mainland China. Simultaneously, an independent spirit courses through the veins of the younger generation looking to get out from under China’s shadow. The two influences blend to produce a country whose riches include centuries-old temples, the world’s tallest building, and some of the friendliest people you may ever meet.
It’s these warm and avuncular people that, above all else, can make Taiwan a joy to photograph. The capital city, Taipei is decidedly international and foreigners are not uncommon. Even so, the Taiwanese people are quick to recognize a foreign face and welcome you to their country.
As a traveller, this means you’ll always have someone to happily point you in the right direction when you’re lost and someone to recommend the best sights the area has to offer. As a travel photographer, this means your requests to take photos of people will rarely be met with a brusque wave of the hand and a dirty look. Instead, you may often find people are flattered by your desire to include them in your compositions.
Taipei’s temples offer a fantastic opportunity to experience this hospitable character in picturesque settings. At the top of the list of temples to see in Taipei is Longshan temple. Almost always bustling with devotees, the incense smoke is invariably thick inside this ornate Buddhist temple. Both the temple itself and the flurry of human activity within its decorated walls make for great travel photography opportunities.
Other temples worth a visit include busy Bao-an temple, Xingtian temple where women clad in blue robes dispense incense to worshipers, and the comparatively spartan Confucius temple. At the last of these, I had the opportunity to photograph a group of local musicians playing children’s songs for a group of primary school students. The young girls and boys were just learning English and were more than happy to try out their limited phrases on me. Hardly different from anyone else in Taiwan, they revelled in the opportunity to have some fun with a foreign face.
But the sights in Taiwan are certainly not limited to temples. The sensory overload of the markets is another must see/must experience when visiting Taipei.
Asian markets aren’t for everyone. Every major city on this continent seems to have some narrow road where hawkers, vendors and customers converge in an effort to both exchange goods and to cram as many people as possible into one constricted space. Agoraphobics beware.
Taiwan is no exception, but the night markets of Taipei take the phenomenon to a new level. The usual items show themselves in plentiful numbers: knock-off designer handbags and athletic shoes, souvenir teapots, cheap watches and so on. So far, the crowded Taipei streets can hardly be differentiated from Hong Kong or Kuala Lumpur, but that’s not good enough for the Taiwanese.
They have a number of tricks up their sleeves to imprint themselves in the memories of their visitors. Perhaps at the top of the list are the snake handlers of the Snake Alley night market. Men wielding microphones will casually tap cobras while exhorting you to sip some snake’s blood. It’s probably an acquired taste and no one will force it upon you. Nor will you be forced to watch the extrication of the aforementioned blood. Again, that’s not a sight on the top of everyone’s list. Just note that these are examples of the visuals you may encounter at certain markets.
And these visuals are examples of what a travel photographer might be able to put in front of their camera lens – just don’t get too close to the live cobras. And do note that certain stalls do request that no photos be taken. Some vendors waive this rule if you ask with a smile to take a photo, but if they waive you off, don’t push the matter or you may end up the next meal of a boa constrictor.
If the vegetarian in you doesn’t find the animal handling and mystery meats to be appealing subjects, other more tame markets await you. One example is the Dihua Street market (most active during the afternoon) whose primary purpose is the vending of sundries and candies. Friendly vendors there will often let you include them in a shot of their goods. Sometimes you may even find people are flattered that you chose to include them in your travel photograph. If that isn’t reason enough to check out Dihua Street, a walk up and down this market may very well leave your pockets full of free samples of candies – some delicious, some simply bizarre.
Shooting the night markets can be tricky business. While plenty of colourful lights will illuminate your subjects, they are not always as bright as you might prefer. There is hardly a patch of ground you can claim for yourself to set up a tripod, so you may find yourself relying either on a higher ISO or on a faster lens. This is especially true if you intend to photograph the people of the markets as a faster shutter speed is necessary.
That doesn’t mean you should be leaving your tripod at home. Taipei has plenty of other subjects available for night shooting. The Xinyi district glows at night with illuminated modern high-rise architecture topped by the massive Taipei 101. Currently the tallest building in the world, Taipei 101 is an impressive architectural feat that will have you gazing skyward with your jaw agape and forcing you into shooting vertical shots – you can hardly fit this mighty edifice into a horizontal frame unless you’re far from its shadow.
Other potentially fruitful subjects for night shooting in Taipei abound. The Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall and surrounding buildings are lit up and the enormous arch at the entry blazes white in the darkness. Many of the city’s temples are open well past sundown and long exposures inside these buildings can look unreal. The neon-lit city streets are also worth a long-exposure or two. Bright signs and endless streams of traffic mix together in colourful compositions.
Of course, Taipei has a lot more to offer than what has been covered so far, but it isn’t the only place worth visiting in Taiwan. You could spend a week exploring the Northern half of the island alone while being continually kept interested by a wide variety of subjects and destinations.
My trip took me first to Lugang (also called Lukang), a centre for traditional streets and buildings. Surrounded by generic Taiwanese buildings, the town centre retains a taste of old Taiwan with its perpetually curving, narrow alleys, old, character-filled temples and craftspeople who have mastered Taiwanese arts. Both Longshan and Matsu temples are worth a visit while the twists and turns of Old Market Street and Nine Turns Lane will disorient and amaze you.
Nearby Changhua’s main attraction is its enormous great Buddha statue seated on a hill overlooking the city. Also a relatively non-descript town unto itself, the hill named Baguashan features the 22-metre high Buddha, the Nine Dragons Pond, a pair of white pagodas and a multi-storey Buddhist temple.
Changhua is the jumping off point for the nearby Jiji Small Rail Line where you can make stops in small, rural towns and take in some of Taiwan’s countryside. The towns of Ershui and Jiji are the most fruitful locations for sights and in both you can rent a bicycle to explore the nearby paths. My personal favourite location along Ershui’s many roads was the Monkey Protection Area where groups of macaques emerged from the bamboo forest to try to goad visitors into supplying some food.
One way back to Taipei from the Jiji rail line is to pass through Shuishe Village, the main jumping off point to explore Sun Moon Lake. A popular honeymoon spot for the Taiwanese, the sparkling blue waters of the lake make a beautiful foreground to the hazy mountains surrounding it. Among the top sights in addition to the landscapes surrounding the lake is Wenwu Temple, a colourful, multi-tiered Buddhist temple overlooking the azure waters.
Only a week in Taiwan seems too short. In addition to the above locations, extra days in Taipei, a visit to one of the island’s best known attractions, Taroko Gorge, and a trip to Tainan would be welcome additions to the agenda.
Travel Photographer Tips
The gear I used was relatively simple: Two bodies and two lenses (one long zoom and one wider-angle). At the temples, I sometimes found myself using both cameras at once. The energetic activity at a place like Longshan temple in Taipei changes quickly and trying to keep up with it while switching lenses would have gotten tiresome. But other than that, you could make due with one body and just choose your lens based on the situation.
As I mentioned, a tripod is a welcome addition to your gear. Ample opportunities for night photography will make you regret it if your tripod doesn’t accompany you. In fact, I accidentally left my tripod behind while running for a train and lost it. Thankfully, Taipei is one of the better places to find camera gear and I had almost the exact same model replaced within a couple hours.
A polarizing filter may help to cut down on the effects of Taiwan’s pervasive haze, but it will often also aid you in capturing the brilliant orange of the temple rooftops. Without a polarizer the shiny roofs may blind your meter.
As for when to visit, summer typhoons can put a damper on travel photography, so it might be wise to schedule outside of the summer months. I visited in January and except for a ubiquitous haze, the conditions were wonderful – not a drop of rain to be found and the temperatures were comfortable as could be. That said, getting such good weather in Taiwan may be more a matter of luck than planning – other than the typhoons, the conditions are relatively unpredictable.
Japan, the Sequel
Bathed in the orange glow of the electric heater, George and I look around the room. George’s gaze darts a little more frantically because George is Sarah’s fish. He’s fat and has bug eyes. He’s a black goldfish that can take more punishment than most aquatic house pets. I suspect, right now, he is having similar thoughts to me: ‘Someone turn up the heat.’
Though, George being the hardy fellow he is, he’s probably used to this temperature. Not me. I mean, only a couple days ago, I was sweating out 40 degree days. This 30 degree shift down has me recalling all too vividly my winter in Japan and cursing the architects who did not have the foresight to install insulation or central heating in these Japanese apartments.
I know this really isn’t cold, but you have to think relatively here. 40 degrees down to 10 is shrinks a lot of mercury (among other things). Give me a week and I’ll be back to asserting my Canadian mastery over all things cold. With ice cubes down my pants, I’ll be hunting for some frozen poles I can lick. But for now, I’m going to shiver under my blanket and recall to myself that other than this delay in the Japanese spring, everything is pretty much perfect.
I’ve only made a quick sojourn from the apartment today, but while walking those familiar streets, I couldn’t help giggling to myself, ‘I’m in Japan again!’ while a huge grin preceded each of my footsteps.
The weirdest country I’ve to which I’ve ever been, this place is re-revealing it’s odd contradictions and making me recall why leaving here those many months ago was a mistake. But I’m not attempting to live in the past here. I feel, instead like I’m caught somewhere between past, present and future. It’s both like I never left and my whole life is ahead of me.
But like many of Japan’s mysteries, I have decided not to delve too deeply. It’s not a land that reveals its secrets easily. Instead, I will just go with the flow and bypass these strange temporal eddies.
Soon, George and I will greet Sarah’s return from a day at work and succumb to her pressure to watch American Idol. I like to pretend watching that show causes me some mortal wound so that perhaps I can curry some favour. But, it’s really Sarah that should be thanked for allowing me the chance to come back here to Japan. Maybe tonight I won’t make any jesting complaints. I can’t speak for George though. I think he really hates that show.
Thailand to Japan
I’m about to say au revoir to Thailand (I don’t know how to say it in Thai, so I’ll with French, not because of any French tradition in Thailand, but because I’ll be seeing this country again in a couple months).
When I return from Japan, I plan to stay at least a little while in Bangkok because I saw nothing of the city while I was there. People seem to either love the place or loathe it, but I really don’t know it enough to tell you either way. I also figure that having spent this amount of time in Thailand, I should have at least a few photos of its capital city. As it stands, I didn’t take a single shot while I was here.
Yesterday, I spent the entire day relaxing after my bus journey from Chiang Mai. I wound up in a hostel that had a TV in the room for the first time in a long time and the bulk of my day was spent with a steady stream of movies.
You can’t blame me for relaxing a bit because my trip to Bangkok was a little bit stressful. I had been expecting to take a bus from Chiang Mai on the 17th in the morning. I would wake early and 12 hours later, I would arrive in Bangkok in the evening. The day before, I looked at my ticket and something told me to double check the time.
I hopped over to the guesthouse where I originally bought the ticket and made my query. The woman who sold me the ticket replied with shock. ‘Oh no! We don’t have buses in the morning!’ To which I responded, ‘Huh?’ It said 5:30 am right on the receipt. But apparently, while writing, accuracy of any kind was not on her agenda. She should have been writing 6:30 pm.
So, the bus for which I was now booked was departing at 6:30 pm and would arrive in Bangkok at 6:30 am. My flight is at 8:25 so I would be cutting it far too close. Frazzled, I enquired about my options and with a previously unknown efficiency, the woman called up the bus company and managed to get me a seat on the next bus that evening. (Thank you to whoever it was that cancelled! Much appreciated!)
I hurriedly packed and got myself some dinner before I was whisked off to the bus leaving an audible ‘Whew!’ in my wake.
Now, I’m freezing in this terminal’s overzealous air conditioning and trying to prepare for the even worse cold I’m told awaits me in Japan. Spring is arriving late this year. On the plus side, that means the cherry blossoms should not quite have bloomed yet in Iwate. And since the sakura are just about the most beautiful thing in the world (or so the Japanese would have you believe), I’m in luck. Last year, through irritating scheduling coincidences, I missed their full force. This year, I should be fortunate enough to stroll through their flowery midst.
Though by no means is this what I’m most anticipating in Japan. Seeing my friends there again is going to be great. I’m giddy at the excitement of gathering up as many people as possible and heading to karaoke (though my voice is a little shot after the mirthful yelling of Songkran). I may already have a karaoke date scheduled this Friday, so I better rest up the old pipes. I’m just thrilled I’ll get the chance to see these good friends again in the place where our friendships grew.
And for those following along, get ready for a deluge of photos. While travelling, I haven’t had the chance to upload much new material, but for the next couple months, the bulk of my time will be spent preparing images for my site and my agencies. First up will be photos from Songkran because I met so many people there who want to see my photos. But after that, I’m flexible. If you have any requests from any of the places I’ve been, drop me a line and I’ll throw it towards the top of the queue.
Songkran 2006
UPDATE: Photos of the Songkran Water Fights are now available in the gallery.
Technically, it’s only the second day of the Songkran festival and already I’m worn out. This morning, I’m debating whether to partake in the water-tossing festivities or to attempt to photograph them again. The former is more fun; the later may serve me better in the long run. Either way, either today or tomorrow, I’ll be donning some form of aqua weapon and taking to the streets.
It takes a lot of mental energy for me to photograph the water fights. You have to have eyes on the back of your head because wielding a camera is no guarantee that you won’t turn into a target. I’ve wrapped mine in a special water-resistant bag, but that’s only water resistant, not waterproof. A good shot from a bucket and I suspect the protection I’ve provided would be worth little.
But I managed to get a few fun shots yesterday. The early morning saw a procession of monks at the Tha Pae Gate where hundreds of worshippers filled the alms bowls well past overflowing. Next was the Miss Songkran beauty contest where ladies donning umbrellas slowly strolled the stage in their high-rise heels and synthetic smiles.
Afterwards, I wandered a while and took photos of the water fights. I tended to stick to the more sedate areas of combat where I could better protect my gear. As I walked from site to site, I was forced plead with assailants to make only the lower half of my body their target. Sometimes I was successful, sometimes not, but so far, my camera still works.
A lot of people seem to respect that a camera is a bit of an expensive item and that getting it wet would be a bad idea. It’s actually a greater percentage of Thais who are willing to avoid shooting my camera than it is the foreign tourists. With them, I can plead in English to watch out for my camera. More than once people have replied, ‘You’re going to get wet anyway!’ while they proceed to do their worst. Well, idiot, it’s only because of people like you that your statement is true. The majority of people are willing to give me a little slack from the water torture if I play along a little and present them with, say, my ass to get wet instead of my camera.
While shooting, the police attempted to close off a couple of ridiculously congested roads so that the parade of Buddha images could make their way toward Phra Sing temple. I briefly gained access to the city wall’s ramparts thanks to a friendly tourist policeman and was able to witness the chaos from the safety of an elevated viewpoint. Many of the city’s temple’s Buddhas are removed from their usual positions and mounted on a car to have the revelers douse them with herb-scented purifying water as they passed. Traditional dancers, drummers and ethnic groups mixed with ladyboys in the procession and everyone got a generous helping moisture.
I quickly ambled over to Phra Sing where I got to see the laborious process of re-mounting the heavy Buddha image back in its place using a complicated set of lifts and manpower. As soon as it was back in its watchful position in front of the Wat, worshippers flocked to it to drench the image.
The long procession continued and the entrance to Phra Sing made a good vantage point. The water tossing was under control there to an extent and the crowds were actually navigable so I could easily get the best vantage points.
I soon found myself a bit exhausted from the whole day and headed back to my guesthouse knowing I had a couple more days of similar excitement.
But all this makes me sound like I’m obsessed about the safety of my camera and refuse to have any fun. Not true. Yesterday was a great time and I made more than a few friends willing to protect me in exchange for some photos later (since they were too scared to bring their cameras with them). I just hope I’m able to sort out who’s who later when I process and send out images.
More fun than the enjoyment of shooting in the water fights was participating in them. Two days ago, before the festival even officially began, there was already madness in the streets. Arming myself with a water pistol (whose life was a short few hours of functionality – the people selling these cheap plastic trinkets must be making a fortune) I headed to the moat and proceeded to get soaked and to soak.
I went straight for the busiest section of road I could find and noted to myself that this is exactly how I imagine anarchy would look. Lining each side of the road were assailants. Behind one group was the moat with its never ending supply of muddy water (I’m trying not to imagine how much of it I have and will swallow over these few days) and on the other side, bars and pubs sent hoses out into buckets to arm the partiers. In the middle were the cars, tuk-tuks, trucks, motorcycles and bikes all playing the role of moving target.
The trucks usually carried a band of assassins with barrels of water feeding their weapons and thus they weren’t defenseless. The scooters and motorbikes may have been the most appealing targets for many – they had no way of retaliating. Some were almost knocked off their bikes by forceful bucket blasts.
Screaming girls received faces full of water from aggressive bucket wielding men. If they had the means, they would respond by delivering a face full of ice water (one of the more potent weapons in the combat). People were tossed into the moat. Ladyboys donned bikinis and competed admirably in the perpetual wet t-shirt contest surrounding them. When the traffic slowed, roadside warriors would turn against each other to continue the fun. Mischievous gunmen ambushed drivers foolish enough to leave even a crack of their window open. Buckets of water flew into the open-backed sawngthaew buses (pickup trucks converted to buses).
And all the while, joyous screaming and laughter.
There were those few not interested in the celebration. A few locals hope in futility to stay dry, but when an errand draws them out of their house, they, in vain, try to ward of the water with a dirty look or two. There was the ridiculous foreigner riding a scooter down the busiest stretch of the busiest road who flipped me the bird after I shot his already-soaked body. No use playing the victim in these circumstances, friend.
No, it’s best to don a smile whether you’re riding a motorbike, donning a camera, or just trying to cross the street. There’s no use pretending you won’t get wet. No, they’ll find you. So you might as well enjoy the brief respite from the 40-degree heat. Because the only loser in a water fight, is the one who stays dry.
Poi Sang Long and News
And now for the news of the day.
First up is an article I just had published with travelphotographers.net. If you’re interested on what it’s like to do some travel photography in Northern Taiwan, check it out. There’s a small batch of my photos as well for anyone who’s hoping to see some new ones.
Secondly, I’m heading back to Japan! Yay! While in Bangkok, Sarah and I hunted down a relatively cheap flight up to Tokyo, so I’ll be heading back to Iwate. I don’t think I’ve mentioned that every time I talk to a Japanese person and tell them I lived in Iwate, they laugh, but it’s a fact. They’re probably right to do so, but the place still has a hold on my heart.
I’ll be going for a couple months and any time I’m not visiting friends, I will be working tirelessly on processing photos. I’m actually quite eager for the change of pace – it will feel nice to wake up somewhere and not have to wonder where I will be sleeping that night. And I have thousands of photos that need processing, so the down time will be well spent.
Meanwhile, here in Chiang Mai, I’ve been keeping incredibly busy with the Poi Sang Long festival during which new novice monks are colourfully dressed and praraded around town. For three whole days, their feet are not allowed to touch the ground (I still haven’t figured out what they do to go to the toilet, but I don’t really want to find out that bad).
I’ve been spending a bunch of time at Wat Pa Pao, the epicenter of the festivities. I was also lucky enough to hitch a ride with the caravan of novices getting a tour of the city’s temples. Hanging precariously off the back of a pickup truck, a band played music and led the boys from temple to temple where they disembarked the trucks and danced up a storm on the backs of their families. If I get a chance, I’ll write a bit more about it later.
Combine these parties with the rest of the city’s novices being ordained and I won’t be surprised if I get a blister on my shutter finger.
What’s ‘Relax’ in Thai?
I’m sleepy. And that’s okay by me. I’m allowed to be sleepy and a bit lazy for one more day before Sarah heads off to Cambodia. After that, I’ll probably be going back to my usual frenetic pace (though, I’ve grown a bit used to these chilled-out days and it might be hard to go back). Sipping fruit shakes and reading in a café in Chiang Mai isn’t such a bad life, but neither is a life spent tracking down good photos all day (well, for me anyway).
We have just returned from Wat Prahai Doi Suthep where we actually did do a bit of sightseeing today. It took us a while to get there because this lazy Sunday also happens to be election day in Thailand and there doesn’t seem to be a lot of people moving about in the city, tourists (for whatever reason) and locals alike. We had hopped in a bus, but the driver wouldn’t leave until he had seven or eight fares. We waited a while and were joined by an Argentinean couple, but no one else seemed interested in heading up the mountain. Eventually, we had to bargain with the driver to take us up for a higher fee than we should have been paying. Another penny lost, but it wasn’t so bad.
The temple itself was gorgeous. On top of a long series of steps flanked by two naga (dragons) whose bodies formed the banister all the way up, the temple complex stood with what might have been an impressive view of Chiang Mai had the haze not been so thick. As it was, walking up to the railing at the edge of the small cliff looked like you were approaching the end of the world.
Inside the main courtyard of the temple, the highlight is certainly the huge gold stupa/chedi that towers and gleams over the complex. It’s surrounded by gold Buddha statues of varying sizes, metal umbrellas and shiny marble floors. Monks blessed visitors inside a couple of enclosed temples, worshippers knelt on the hot ground and tourists snapped away.
Yesterday, while Sarah went off to her cooking class, I had the fortune of witnessing the ordination of the new monks at one of the city’s largest temples, Phra Sing. I won’t go into the details, but it involved a lot of parading in an out of the main temple in order for the monks to pray, receive gifts and supplies for their new life and to talk with and say goodbye to their families. As with the alms-giving ceremony in Luang Prabang, the graphic image presented by a row of monks made for a striking visual.
I even got to see the rare (and somewhat unfortunate) event of a couple monks coming to blows. Yup. Monk fist fight. I didn’t exactly see what started it, but it was immediately after the new novices had completed their group photo. As they were walking off, a couple of them were talking. Probably trash talking. One of them must have made one too many ‘yo momma’ jokes and the other came out swinging. He threw a few inaccurate haymakers before being subdued. I guess he hadn’t yet internalized the ‘no violence’ precept that novice monks are supposed to follow. It was, after all, his first day, so I guess we can forgive him.
After the group photo, the boys were herded into waiting tour buses and shown around town. Perhaps they have already seen more of Chiang Mai than Sarah and I. Perhaps not. But I think we will have had a more relaxing time than them. After all, we don’t have to wake up at 4:00 am every morning – I think our time in Chiang Mai comes out on top for that fact alone.
Though, it’s not like we’ve seen and done nothing here. There was, of course, Sarah’s cooking class. We also saw heaps of people engaged in perhaps the coolest sport on earth: Sepak Takraw (imagine three-a-side volleyball where you can’t use your hands but you can do flying bicycle kicks played in the dimensions of a badminton court). We went out to the handicraft villages where we spent our day with pushy salespeople. We temple hopped. We’ve eaten like war rationing had just ended. We saw Thai boxing and markets. We went to the movies a lot. Okay, so that last one’s not a typical Chiang Mai tourist event, but really, it’s so cheap here, how could we not?
No, we’ve had a fantastic time here. If for nothing else but for all the laughing we’ve done – even if we didn’t see a thing, it would have been great.
North to Chiang Mai
It’s easy to get behind on my journal when I have someone to talk to each night. When I would normally be writing, I now have Sarah to chat with until the wee hours, so my updates have been lagging. It has been great to have some steady company though, so I’m afraid I have no regrets in getting behind.
At the same time, the relentless pace I typically assign myself in a given day has slowed. Sarah’s not exactly willing to trudge behind me for successive days of 12-hour photo excursions, so with only a couple of days as exceptions, I have treated my time in Thailand with her as my vacation from traveling. We wake up slowly and forsake the sunlight in favour of debating whether turning up the air con means to make the room colder or hotter. Once outside the room, we have often spent more time hunting down a good meal or the best fruit shakes in town than blasting from sight to sight and trying to cram as much travelling into the day as possible.
There have been, however, a couple of days that stand as exceptions. First, in Ayuthaya, a town not too far north of Bangkok where impressive temple ruins and modern wats rise above the modern city’s low lying architecture. Hopping on bicycles, we ignored the oppressive heat (for a while) and toured some gorgeous sights. I was pleased that even after seeing a place like Angkor Wat, the temples here still captured my imagination.
In the late afternoon, we took a boat ride around the island formed by the converging rivers and explored even more temples. When we arrived back at our hotel, the sun was just beginning to set, so Sarah exhorted me to bike off by myself to catch the last rays of day and then to take photos when the temples were lit up at night. I dodged the stares of security guards while I tried to get as close as I could to the illuminated temples. Similarly, I dodged the punches of Thailand’s brattiest kid who decided I would be his plaything while I was waiting for the temples to light up.
That long day was followed by a relatively peaceful days trip up to Sukothai where the bike riding and temple hopping was repeated. Another expansive collection of ruined temples coaxed us from the shade and we explored the former Thai capital’s ruins. Happily, both Ayuthaya and Sukkothai were not bustling with tourists like the now-overrun Angkor area and the days were peaceful and not spent waiting for a tour group stop crowding a narrow passageway.
Now in Chinag Mai, Sarah and I have had a lovely time chilling out, exploring the Sunday night market, going to Muay Thai boxing, and doing more chilling out.
Muay Thai was one of the highlights for me. The dim Thapae arena is a regular host to nights of fights heavily marketed to tourists. Though marketed in this way, the fights themselves seemed quite authentic. I spent most of my time at ringside trying to rise to the challenge of shooting a sport I had never even seen live before let along photograph while marveling at the spectacle and occasionally getting showered by a splatter of sweat from a recently-punched boxer.
Happily, Sarah ran into one of her best friends Hannah who is also traveling in Southeast Asia. They were planning to meet in Cambodia in a week, but managed to cross paths at the boxing match so now the two of them could chat and ignore the fact that grown men were surrounding them and yelling at young boys to kick each other in the neck.
When I say young boys, I mean it. One of the matches featured a couple of boys who couldn’t have been more than 12 years old, but they may have been as young as 10. It was simultaneously disturbing and impressive. The crowd of gambling Thais at ringside were excitedly cheering them on and they shouted in unison whenever one of these kids made a strike. A chorus of yells went up each time a knee hit its target. And plenty knees did hit their targets. Each of these boys probably could have kicked my ass. They displayed remarkable skill for their age and seeing them duel was like watching them turn into men before your very eyes. But at the same time, they were just boys, and the crowd was furiously calling for each of them to pound the hell out of the other.
The other matches weren’t quite as disturbing since the combatants were mostly above the age of consent. As a photographer, it was a decidedly challenging sport to shoo, but it was good fun trying to rise to that challenge. Not surprisingly, the last bout of the night was easiest to shoot since it was just a demonstration match where each fighter took turns landing his most furious blows on the other. They sent each other flying in exaggerated arcs to the canvas after unleashing crushing kicks to the side. The best part was that Sarah and Hannah both thought it was real and was the best fight of the night. They were truly disappointed when I told them it was all fake.
So, from ancient, ruined cities to boys trying to knee each other in the face, Thailand has so far offered a diverse experience. Time to go see what else it has in store for us.
Phuket and Lobsters
Sunburn bloody sunburn. Well, it’s not really bloody. That would mean I should be in the hospital I suppose. No, just pink. My first (and possibly last) trip to the beach on this trip has resulted in a nice coating of pink on my back.
After leaving Luang Prabang, I have arrived in Thailand where, after getting into my hotel, one of my first acts was to head back to the airport to pick up Sarah who will be accompanying me for the next couple weeks through Thailand. We spent the next couple days bumming around in Bangkok, drinking yummy fruit shakes, making fun of hippies (really, that was just me) and having a fun time while trying to dodge the heat.
Since we were in Thailand, we felt somewhat obligated to head south and visit an island. Without a lot of thought into the matter, we chose Phuket. Looked nice enough. Why not? So, a quick flight and we checked into a nice little hostel, cranked our air conditioning and started planning a day at the beach.
(A side note: I have only had air con once so far on this trip – in Taman Negara and I only got it there because it was the only room I could find at all – so having Sarah, whose Japanese winter has not yet ended, here is a bit of a blessing for me. I can happily splurge on the AC and have the excuse that it’s for her sake.)
We boarded a bus and headed to Karon beach where we found ourselves some beach chairs to call home base. The clear sun had heated the air and sand and the blue water was by far the most inviting place for us to be.
We splashed and played in the relatively calm waters for a good couple of hours, laughing the whole time, merrily ignoring that tremendously hot ball of fusing atoms beaming down upon us. When we emerged, giddy from the water, we started probing around our exposed skin to discover that we had miscalculated the strength of our sunscreen.
Sarah put it well, ‘In this day and age, there’s really no excuse to get a sunburn.’ But somehow, we both did it. We had applied Sarah’s SPF 30 cream when we left the hotel. In between then and waiting for the bus, the ride to the beach, lunch, staking out our beach spot and loads of watery frolicking, the protection had substantially diminished and our skin silently soaked up the UV rays. Add to that the sun sensitivity we both seem to be experiencing at the hands of our anti-malarial tablets and the results are predictable. We sheepishly packed up our things and left the beach knowing we would be in for a few days of vaguely resembling lobsters.
But we didn’t head back to Phuket town and our hostel immediately. Oh no. When you know that you are within walking distance of a Dinosaur-themed mini golf course and you are me, your day is not finished. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been rotating on a barbecue spit for a few hours, you’re going to putt some balls!
And truly, this course was excellent. My traveling companion Sam in Singapore had urged me to seek out a fantastic sounding venue for our new favourite sport when we had been denied the opportunity to go there on his last night in the city, but I was never able to find it’s location. So, in his honour, I made damn sure I was not going to miss a mini golf course that featured a smoking volcano, an animatronic T-rex and a series of Triceratops droppings that took the place of course obstacles.
The match was hard fought, but I managed to beat the gracefully-losing Sarah by a few strokes and I now have a two-game undefeated streak going (you cling to such victories when your favourite basketball team is the perennially underachieving Toronto Raptors). I consoled Sarah that there was no shame in losing to the best.
Once we got back to the hotel, we nursed our wounded skin and proceeded to rest for the next couple of days. We sported skin-covering long shirts and went shopping and to the movies (V for Vendetta was good fun by the way) or watched the hostels DVDs while not thinking about words like ‘ultraviolet’ and ‘stupid tourist.’
Really, my shoulders still hurt a few days after the fact, but I still wouldn’t trade in the fun we had in the ocean. But I may regret that decision because tomorrow, I actually have to don my pack for a whole day.
We’re now in Ayuthaya, a small city North of Bangkok where ruins a plenty await our exploration tomorrow. I’ll certainly be bringing my cameras along for the day since I took almost no photos in Phuket. The only photos I shot were a couple of Sarah and I in the hotel. I felt like I had to take at least one photo while on the island, so all I have is a close up of the two of is in front of our hotel room’s blue walls. Good thing the memories will last a while.
Luang Prabang Highlights
Dear Luang Prabang,
I’m coming back. I hope you’ll have me.
Love, Darby
What a wonderful time I’ve had here. This has been one of my favourite places I have ever visited. Within days of being here, I felt like I was a part of a community.
On my second or third day here, I found myself hanging out in the room of a couple novice monks in the area. One of them was attending English class later that day and invited me to attend. I was soon reprising my role of assistant teacher. The class ended with some of the girls of the class requesting a song in English from me. I don’t know if this is a common request for their teachers or not, but being the fan of karaoke that I am, I obliged.
In the interests of fairness, however, I requested a song from them in return. I decided to just go with the Canadian national anthem so that they could reply with an anthem from Laos. They opted for Luang Prabang’s city song instead. After merrily exchanging melodies, they had made a new friend and I had made twelve. I guess perhaps the exchange wasn’t fair after all. But, equality be damned – I’m not giving any of them back.
Teaching English has made up a good portion of my visit. Almost every one of the novice monks is eager to chat with passing foreigners so that they might practice their English. Much like the monks at Angkor, they put themselves in spots where they have a good chance of catching the attention of a tourist. They sit near the entrances of the many monasteries in the city and either study or chat until they can catch the attention of a passer by with a quick ‘Sabaidee’ (‘How are you?’ in Laos). They’ll launch into as many questions as the foreigner is willing to answer and will cheerfully answer any queries in return just so they can get a better hold on a language that may one day provide them a stable income.
I have stocked up on so many excellent memories while here – too many to share. But, since I would like to note a few, I’ll revert to my point-form recollections to try to allow me to go to bed at a decent hour.
– The cheeky boys at Wat Sop have to be my favourites. I’ve spent a good amount of time there and had a blast talking to them all. I had already once sat in at the chanting at another temple when I was invited to sit with them at Wat Sop. At the first temple, each monk reverently went through the ritual and there was only one moment of giggling when every monk simultaneously forgot their place in the chant.
But, here at Wat Sop, the boys were chatting with each other, occasionally taking leave of their position to step outside, and writing text messages on their cell phones. The second time I sat with them, the abbot of the monastery lectured for them a good half hour after the chanting about their recent conduct, but that didn’t seem to have any effect on them. The next day, they were back to their old ways.
Their worst habit was their flirtatiousness. Not with me of course, but practically every girl that passed received particularly enthusiastic exhortations to come practice English with them. Some of the girls, unfortunately, didn’t have much knowledge about the customs and precepts the monks must follow, one of with is that they are not to touch members of the opposite sex. Handing anything to them is forbidden for women (that’s why they accept their morning alms in the bowls at their side, not in their hands) and even sitting next to them is pretty much off limits.
It fell to me a couple times to try to educate a girl or two about these taboos because the novices themselves are far too eager to push the limits of what they can get away with. Some of them strictly follow the rules and vanish when a woman appears, but at this temple, the troublemakers are plentiful. Once the rules are known, it’s usually okay and English practice/flirting continues.
For some reason, at this temple, I happen to have the nickname, Mr. Paracetamol. I’m not sure if it’s because I gave them a headache or because I was medicine for their ills. I’ll go with the latter since they seem to like me. They’re a charming bunch really.
One of the boys, (who gave me my nickname) got his own nickname from me: De (pronounced like the French de with an exaggerated d sound). A woman who had also spent some time with these young men said his previous nickname was ‘canned fish’ (his favourite food) but when he tried to explain that to her, it came out as catfish. Being an English teacher herself, she had him exaggerate the d sound at the end of ‘canned.’ Whenever he did so, he stuck his neck out like a pigeon walking along. So, I just shortened his nickname for him. I hope that it sticks and he will forever remember how to pronounce that sound.
– The flare and love for language that some of the novices have is ridiculous. I met one monk who happened to the son of a doctor from China. He had the fortune to travel and study in a few countries in Southeast Asia. What was most remarkable about him, however, was his level of English. It was as good as anyone I had met in Laos. But what was astonishing was that he claimed to have learned English in the span of two months. He locked himself in a room and did nothing but study English.
He also happened to speak Chinese (Cantonese, if I recall correctly), Laos, Thai, two or three Laos dialects, Japanese, French, and he was learning something else (I can’t even remember everything he speaks let alone remember that many languages). By the way, he was 18.
Obviously, he is an exceptional example, but the rest of the monks were tremendously eager to learn. They sponged up as much of any language as they could and helped each other learn at every turn.
– I made a couple worthwhile excursions outside of town to the Kuang Si waterfalls and to the Pak Ou caves. The former consisted of a series of impressive waterfalls where bikini-clad beauties and dirty hippies alike frolicked in the turquoise pools at the base. The latter is a cave about 29km up the Mekong river where Buddha statues no longer needed or wanted by the areas temples have been discarded. A miniature forest of Buddhas sits placidly in the darkened caves. I wish I could have spent more time there, but I only had a half hour. I’ll have to go back sometime.
– Today I almost got run over by the motorcade of the King of Cambodia. Well, not really run over, but it makes for a good introduction. Really, I just had to step to the side while his motorcade passed as he went to visit Wat Xieng Thong.
A good 20 vehicles passed including numerous police motorbikes, a media crew and an ambulance. Once inside, enough handlers surrounded him that you’d think he was liable to turn into the incredible Hulk and start smashing temples. A couple of doctors in lab coats trailed behind this healthy looking man and rounded out the strangeness of the scene. The kind himself seemed like he would be an incredibly friendly guy. He was all smiles and seemed extremely reverential in the temple. He was also more than happy to shoot smiles and waves to the onlookers who had been shooed to the side by security. I snapped off a few shots of him in a moment that will probably be as close as I will ever come to being a part of the paparazzi.
– Speaking of the paparazzi, stupid photographers really irritate me.
Every morning, the monks and novices of the monasteries in Luang Prabang sling a bowl over their shoulder and walk in precession down the street to receive alms from the locals and these days, from tourists as well. Without making the walk each day, the monks will have no food – they depend on the generosity of others to be able to survive.
It’s a genuinely humbling scene, but a beautiful one. The robed monks become an orange river slowly flowing down the street. It’s no surprise that the spectacle attracts photographers. The city is well aware of the tourist attraction the precession has become and they have posted signs all around town asking for the cooperation of the spectators so that the sacred spirit of the ritual might be preserved.
But a couple days ago, I saw a photographer do his best to break as many of those guidelines as possible. He was obviously a pro (or a very spirited and experienced amateur). Two cameras and the camera vest (even though it didn’t seem to contain much of any use) gave him away.
Since he was probably a pro, I would have expected him to maybe try to respect the ceremony a little more than he did. Among the guidelines he broke included standing in the way of the monks as they passed, using flash right in their faces and standing above them as they walked by (he got on a chair to try to get a different angle of the scene). I watched him get right up in the faces of the people there and fire off his flash and hardly move out of the way at all when a monk was trying to proceed along the path. I suspect if he had been a woman, he would have run up to the monks and rubbed his boobs in their faces just to finish off the list of don’ts.
It’s photographers like him who make my job harder. No wonder there is a lot of distrust of photographers around the world – a lot of obnoxious jerks have blazed trails that every subsequent traveler has to navigate.
Maybe he got some good shots from his insensitive technique. Maybe his flash did a better job of capturing the scene than my high ISO settings. Maybe he got a good angle from standing on a chair. But I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t want to be the photographer who makes himself into an arrogant fool to get a shot (I mean really, I look silly enough with my two cameras around my neck). I mean, isn’t part of the challenge of getting a good shot to do it while respecting your subject and the people around you?
– Luang Prabang itself has been a wonderful break from the pace of the rest of Southeast Asia. The pushiness of the Vietnamese wore on me after a while, so being here and being able to brush off an offer for transport or goods with a simple ‘no thanks’ was a relief. The streets are almost devoid of traffic and what little there is doesn’t believe in the all-powerful horn like the Vietnamese. The result is a relative silence that makes my thoughts sound loud after being drowned out by Vietnam’s din.
The people are friendly, the food is good (though I’ve been hanging out at the Indian restaurant a lot to give myself a break from fried vegetables), the weather is pleasant even in the middle of summer and the prices are cheap. I could easily see myself living here a while if the opportunity ever arose. I truly do want to come back here and use it as a base to explore a bit more of the country. As it stands Laos may be one of the least touristed areas in Southeast Asia, but Luang Prabang is very much on the tourist trail. I would love to get out to the areas where the rut is not quite so deep. With the pace at which this place is developing, I better get back here soon.
Apologies from Laos
I know it’s been a while. Sorry about that. But i have a good excuse.
You see, I write all my journals on my laptop before posting them online. That’s why a couple weeks worth of writing will suddenly appear en masse – that means I’ve found a good Internet cafe where I can plug in my Powerbook.
Unfortunately, right now, that Powerbook doesn’t really like working. Sick of its job, it has decided to take a bit of a leave of absence and now won’t start up unless I boot in safe mode. And even then, it still takes a good ten minutes.
Since I’ve tried every solution I know with no results, the next step is for me to wipe the hard drive and hope that I don’t have a disk problem. Everything’s backed up, so I’m not going to lose any photos. And once everything is somewhat fixed, I should be able to update this page to give some details about my time in Vietnam.
For now, I will bid you fond greetings and some apologies for my e-absence from Laos. Luang Pranbang is a fine place and I hope i will be able to tell you a bit about it soon!
Face, Meet Vietnamese Mud
This is the journal entry where my parents start to worry about me in earnest. They shouldn’t though – I didn’t break any bones and other than a minor bruise or two, some muddy clothes were the major results of my first (and hopefully last) motorbike accident. My driver wasn’t hurt either. And the bike wasn’t damaged as far as I know, so really, it was the mud that won the contest between riders and road.
By the end of my second day in Sapa, I had tired of the relentless barrage of hard sell tactics by the local women, particularly those of the Black Hmong tribe. Following you everywhere with endless supplies of useless souvenir garbage no one would want to buy if their arms weren’t twisted to the breaking point by these women. I acknowledge that some of the embroidery is fine work and the effort involved in creating it is phenomenal, but it has little practical value and ornamentally, it would be out of place in most wardrobes or interior design schemes.
The penetration of the tourist trail into the area has fostered this ubiquitous entrepreneurship. At the same time, it’s tourists who started paying people for each photo they took and thus another cottage industry was born. The result is that few people in the area are willing to have their photo taken without some exchange taking place first. Usually, they are interested in selling you one of their many handicrafts and afterwards, they will let you snap a shot of them. But other than that, finding a willing subject is ridiculously difficult. With my supply of purchased bracelets growing while my wallet shrank, I decided to try to get off the tourist trail a little bit and see if I might have better luck with a tribe who hadn’t had so much contact with the Western world and its rampant capitalism.
The plan was to hop on the back of a rented motorbike with my guide and spend about an hour meandering down the mountains into the valley where a lovely village full of warm and gracious people would greet us.
Plans started going awry when the clouds covering Sapa extended much further into the valley than we had expected. The mists had moistened the road and my guide was letting out frightened sounds that indicated clearly she wasn’t an experienced driver. You know that stereotype about bad female Asian drivers? Well, she was giving it credence as we weaved along the slippery street.
I optimistically continued on with the ride, but continued my firm grip on the back of the bike despite my freezing fingers. The cold of Sapa’s heights was also migrating downhill and with it, my spirits. I kept having visions of the bike slipping out from under us and my leg being trapped, crushed beneath.
Mercifully, we stopped briefly at a boarding school where kids from the local tribes come to learn Vietnamese. I played with the kids for a while who were more than happy to see their own images on the display of my camera. Yes, some of the young kids were the exception to the rule of prohibited photography.
Strength briefly renewed, We left the misty, run-down school and continued the downward road. But the fear returned when the paved road ended and we hit the mud that would lead us the rest of the way down. Deep, slippery ruts proved to be far too much for my guide to negotiate and so I often found myself hopping off the bike when the way became too difficult. The bike then got pushed down through the mud and we re-boarded the bike when the way seemed safe enough.
This made for some slow going. And the whole ride was terrifying. When we hit the dirt road, there was not a single moment where I was not on my guard, ready to have my body thrown down the steep cliff beside us (as ready as one can be for that prospect at least).
A kilometre or two of this sluggish, frightening journey, we nearly fell off the bike and only our panicked legs planted into the mud saved us from toppling into the brown, pasty road. I had been imploring my guide to put an end to the madness and have us walk the rest of the way and this scare finally seemed to get through to her – she was in over her head.
We parked the bike at a roadside stand and left it with an old tribal woman then started trudging through the slippery mud. Walking wasn’t much quicker. Each step sent us sprawling sideways on the verge of splaying and falling headfirst into a slide down the hill. Only having slid about 50 metres of the way from the bike, my guide had convinced herself she could manage the rest of the ride. I have no idea what gave her that impression, but somehow, she managed to convince me to give it another go.
Everything told me not to do it: Her nervous yelps every time the bike threatened to escape her clutches. The low visibility. The incredulous looks of passers by who seemed confused that we had defied gravity up to this point. But still, I hopped on and said I was ready to go.
We probably made it about 100 metres. We were slowly negotiating a turn and the ruts were not so deep that we had to walk. But before I could determine what the horrified yelping from the front of the bike meant, I was sprawled face first on to of the bike and my guide was beside it with one leg underneath. Shocked, I had no idea what I was doing there. In the middle of my internal assessment of whether or not I had been hurt, she starts barking at me to move from my position. I had no idea what was going on, I rolled to the side and she freed herself from her spot.
I stood, covered in mud and continued my self-diagnosis. I was standing, so that was a good sign. My arms and fingers seemed to work though my wrists hurt a little. A couple other small but insignificant pains. Nope. I was all right. My guide was standing and seemed okay. I asked and she was fine.
The fall wasn’t really that hard, so I didn’t suspect anything would be wrong with the bike, but I was finished with the thing. I was ready to turn around and start walking the 18 or so kilometres back to Sapa while trying to hitch a ride that would get me there in time to catch the bus to Lao Cai so I could make my overnight train.
I turned to look uphill and a convoy of Vietnam War-era military jeeps was heading down the mountain. This could only mean one thing. Tourists! I had never been so happy to see a tour group in my life. They stopped when they saw our overturned bike and before they had finished offering a ride, I was on board. My guide wanted to walk the rest of the way down after she had parked the bike at the side of the road, but I didn’t really care about anything but being on four wheels instead of two at that point.
This group of German tourists seemed pretty confused to have me in their midst, but I happily rode the rest of the way down with them hardly saying a word and inspecting my mud-covered clothes. Even these extra durable jeeps were having a tough time navigating the slippery roads, but I seemed to fatalistically accept each slide we took. If I was going to die today, the best I could hope for was not to suffer much. I exaggerate, of course, but any ride would have seemed peaceful after that bike.
We reached the town in the valley and the German tour guide started speaking to his charge while I stood there wondering what the rest of the day had in store for me. I wasn’t sure if I was going to have to spend the night in this village and try to find a way back the next day, catching another train, or if I was somehow going to find my way back to Sapa for dinnertime.
I just decided to pull out my camera and try to have some fun for an hour. Just on hour. I’ll explore the town a little and see what I can see. Just on hour, then I’ll figure out what to do with myself.
No sooner had I made this decision than my guide wandered down the path. Incomprehensibly fleet of foot was this little Vietnamese girl. She soon led me off to her cousin’s home where we ate lunch. She then sent me off for a while alone in the village where I soon discovered that the people here weren’t exceptionally more friendly than anywhere else in the valley. In fact, higher up, the people will be more friendly to you in the hopes of selling you something.
In Ban Ho, I was just invisible. Invisible of course until I asked to take a photo. At that point, I was waved off by every single person I encountered except for one happy farmer who was happily sawing some bamboo. It was again only the kids that wanted to have anything to do with me. Them and the dogs roaming the town. Kids and dogs – the only folks out there who seemed to understand that I’m actually a pretty good guy.
My favourite kids were the ones who invited me into their modest wood house for a game of pool. More to the point, we were just smacking a few billiard balls around. These youngsters (maybe around six to nine years old) had enough trouble seeing over the crooked, worn table let alone accurately aiming a pool cue. But they didn’t care. They were elated whenever I managed to hit a shot (pure luck on this ridiculously off-kilter table). We laughed and giggled with each other then they happily shook my hand when we parted. Their only English was ‘Hello’ and ‘Bye bye,’ but we got along famously.
Unfortunately, one of the nearby residents had to try to spoil the encounter by trying to get me to give him money for playing pool with the kids. I thought maybe it should have been the other way around – after all, I was playing babysitter for a good while there. I shook my head and wondered to where the spirit of sharing disappeared.
I know these people are impoverished, but I have been in far poorer places and there, generosity reigned. So many people in Ghana, for example, were ready to part with everything they had, even though they had next to nothing.
Until a dozen years ago, I’m not sure that the people in this valley were unhappy in their ways. They had not changed their lifestyle for hundreds of years, so perhaps they were content. But I think perhaps the outside world changed that. I’m not going to try to formulate a theory about what happened here to cultivate the area’s changed demands – I really don’t know the history well enough – but I’m almost certain that ten years ago, my experience here would have been entirely different. Perhaps it would have been less comfortable, but I’m almost certain it would have been more rewarding.
After meeting up with my guide again, she told me we would be able to get a ride back with the German tourists at 3:30. That left plenty of time to get the bike and head back to Sapa. But at 3:00, I was just about to make my first friends in the area (I had been playing with some kids and the adults seemed to be warming up to me) my guide came around the corner and suggested we start climbing the mountain. The German group had not yet returned and she was sure there wouldn’t be enough time to get back unless we started off now.
The next hour or so was a power trek up steep and slippery slopes. Lacking traction on my worn-out shoes and lacking breath in my unacclimatized lungs, I sweat my way up the mountain. My guide bounded up the hill with unexpected energy and repeatedly committed one of the cardinal sins of leading a trek – she let the last person get out of sight. Good thing I never twisted that bad ankle of mine or anything. Of course, along the way, with my camera packed up, I passed a plethora of gorgeous, photogenic people. But that’s just me deluding myself into thinking that they would have allowed me to photograph them.
Covered in sweat we reached the bike and renewed the hop on hop off dance that described the last few kilometers of our ride. We finally reached the paved road and since the mists had abated, the rest of the ride wasn’t quite as treacherous.
Back at the hotel, I did my best to stay warm until the bus was set to take a group of us to Lao Cai.
After all that, I would still happily return to the area. It’s a gorgeous place to be. If I’m lucky enough to return, I will most definitely come during the summer to avoid the cold and bad weather. I would also like to be able to stay for a longer period and not do it as part of a tour. If I stayed for a couple weeks and was able to meet more of the people, there would be much more of a tendency for them to know that I wasn’t there to buy their goods. So, the vendors would be more likely to leave me alone and those interested in having a making a connection would be the ones that approached.
I know this because of a French couple I met on my second day. They were a week into their 12-day stay and were just talking with everyone. They had quickly insinuated themselves into the community. And I managed to make a few friends too in my short time there. There was a group of four girls who were cute as could be and spoke good English. They were happy to talk for a couple hours and only once in a while reverted to their habit of asking, ‘You buy?’
So, Sapa, until next time. I hope maybe you can find a bit more of what you probably used to be in that time (unless you prefer it this way).
Darby Sawchuk is a Canadian-born photographer who currently resides in Manchester, England. He has travelled to over 40 countries and is always adding more to the list. He creates stock for multiple agencies and is available for assignments.
+44 0790 992 8932
