Wanderlustress

Peace On Earth

One small reason to make the world a better place...

Sabrina, Christmas '03

Retraction

I was mistaken. I had previously taken a photo of a covered woman. I was on a ferry going up the Golden Horn, the river that conspires with the Bosphorous to divide the city proper of Istanbul into three sections. I connected with a little girl, and took her picture so she can then see herself on the LCD display. As always happens, she was thrilled (but still shy), and her family were thrilled as well. So I took a picture of them. And here it is. I retract.

Respite

Let's take a break from the boring stuff and go to Turkey...shall we?

These photos were taken in the Cappadocia region of Central Anatolia. I was sitting in a cafe, or rather, lounging among the thick carpets and lush pillows watching people go about their daily lives. I was far enough away to shoot this grandmother with his grandson sitting on the stoop of their residence waiting for potential buyers for the hair nets they have laid on the ground for sale. (No. I didn't buy a hair net. But let me know if you want one and I'll be sure to pick on up for you next time I'm in Turkey.)

Now don't go out and start shooting covered women! This is the only time I've ever broken that golden rule. You are NEVER supposed to photograph covered women. And if you ask permission, the woman will NEVER say "yes", especially if she is around her husband, a male relative, a male neighbor, a male grocer, a male...ok, NEVER. You must ask the male company if it is ok to take a photo of covered women. I've never done so and don't know how they would respond. But I have witnessed the wrath of an old man screaming at tourists who took photos of his wife sitting on a donkey cart. I felt sorry for the poor woman, and the old man, because they had been so violated and disrespected.

In my situation at the cafe, I was very far away, and no one new I was taking a photo because I didn't hold the camera up to my face but used the LCD display. It looked as if I was holding out the camera to show my friend photos or a video clip. Pretty stealthy, huh?

Postcard Pal

Sossusvlei Dunes, Namibia

I have recently become a postcard pal with a 16 year old girl in Qatar named Sukanya. She found me through my OneWorldJourneys photo exhibit.

Sukanya is fascinated by places such as Death Valley, Devil's Island, and the Sahara Desert, and she collects postcards from around the world.

So if you are inclined to make a teenager's day, expand her window of the world, and inspire her to explore it, then please send her a POSTCARD:

Sukanya Seshadri
C/O PS Seshadri
PO Box 22611
Doha
QATAR

In return, she will send you a postcard from Qatar if you ask her to.

Homecoming 2003

My friend's son is a star player on the Monroe High School football team...This photo was color enhanced with Lighting and Radial Blur filters.

Come Fly Away

Hot Air Rising - Namib Desert, Namibia 2002

Airborne - Namib Desert, Namibia 2002

Landing - Namib Desert, Namibia 2002

Packing Up - Nambib Desert, Namibia 2002

Packing It In - Namib Desert, Namibia 2002

Hope

Losotho Boy, Losotho 2002

Often times, we do not know where our intentions, giving way to our actions and motions through life, are going to lead us. To guide us, we use hope as our beacon and commitment as our compass. As I pursue my “new” life, I have a hazy and distant vision of my future. And I’m excited to get there. One day back in December of last year I wrote, “Things continue to happen in my life as if on as inexorable and serendipitous journey towards a calling – what? I do not yet know.”

Will my venture into aid work in Uzbekistan lead to a career in far-flung corners of the world? Will my association with the Peace Corps land me a federal job…Foreign Service?…USAID? Will the poking need to share my experiences produce a book? Will my nascent skills in photography produce any published work?

I do not know. But what I do know is that I am fascinated by people who have brought to public attention knowledge or images of life we would have never known about if they had not been brave enough to experience them or capture them. Like Maya Goded’s exhibition of prostitutes in Mexico. She is a Magnum photographer and I browse through the agency’s photos all the time, infusing great composition into my consciousness, getting lost in the photos imagining what the photographer had to endure to capture that one rich moment.

Most highly esteemed photojournalists have worked their whole lives to perfect their craft, which severely tempers my grand illusions. But thanks to my friend Andrew and his post about Diana Walker, I have renewed hope. This acclaimed White House photographer for TIME Magazine apparently did not start serious photography until well into her thirties.

Ahhhhh, I love HOPE!!!

Freak

Going to a wedding alone and single can really help to distinguish you from the rest of the crowd, especially when you don’t know anyone else there but the bride and groom who are fluttering about in a surreal dream. Their sincere friends would introduce themselves to me and marvel at the fact that I had taken all forms of public transportation to arrive at the rehearsal dinner in nine grueling hours, carrying only a backpack in which they imagined could only contain a pair of sneakers and sweatpants (for a wedding?!)…There were ensuing anxious whispers as to what I would be wearing to the ceremony as a Huppa holder, a very central image in the posterity of photographs to be taken on the special day.



During dinner there was plenty of keen interest in the summary of my life, which I described in snippets between sips of wine and bites of chicken marsala. As usual, the husbands and boyfriends were enthralled, while the wives and girlfriends were fearing for their lives that this wanderer with a backpack may unseat their reign with tales of facing off corrupt customs officials and digging pit toilets. Still, they listened attentively as their partners reassuringly rubbed their shoulders and gave them occasional kisses on the nose, the usual “you’re-still-my-honeybunny” gestures. As I shared, each took their turn with their travel tales and adventures, and I would reciprocate in kind with another regal tale. It was all good fun until I had this overwhelming sense from their looks that I should shut up or I was about to be abandoned in a corner as the pathological lying freak.

I laid awake that night wondering if everyone would have been more comfortable if I had been there with a partner? At least my life would have had some semblance to their own domesticated bliss. It would have reassured them that I was as weak and needy and human on the inside as they are…I wondered if I should have told them I once worked at McDonald’s?

Huppa Holder

I have never participated in a Jewish wedding before, and up until two weeks ago, when my friend Vanessa asked me to be a Huppa holder in her wedding, I didn’t even know what a Huppa was.

Traditionally, a Huppa is a draped cloth held over the couple during their marriage ceremony. It symbolizes the home that unites the couple in marriage. The four sides are open to welcome all the family and friends of the couple into their lives.

Vanessa and Jake’s Huppa was made of embroidered burgundy-colored cloth that was draped over four posts made of tall Birchwood tree trunks. Set in an old stone country manor in the middle of a beautiful forest bursting with fall foliage, the natural details added to the warmth of the event, and added an experience in my life that warmed my heart. Holding the Huppa, I had the strong sense that part of my role as a friend was to help them uphold the ideals and promises of their matrimony, that I was assigned to nurse the pains and celebrate the joys together with them, for life, somehow encasing their lives in the sanctity of the vows.

It was powerful, and touching. I was close enough to feel the nervous deep breaths, see the welling eyes and the loving curve of an otherwise undetected smile. More than anything, I felt the closeness of all our hearts in the marriage between two lovely people.

A Day's End

...and sleep's coming soon. Too bad the Cubs lost...

Self Portrait