amomentadrift

i decided to go through my old memory card to look at some camino photos and upload any that i liked but hadn’t uploaded… and for some reason, that endeavor yielded more than 350 photos that seemed to miss the journey up to flickr. especially from the middle of the camino… hmmm…? i was sure i uploaded these pictures. alas…

i created another three albums with these “lost” photos. take a look at camino iv, camino v, and camino vi. if you’ve seen some of these before… maybe you know where the pictures ran off to… or maybe you took them.

anyways, here are a few of my favorites from the bootlegs:

This weekend I took a road trip through some areas of scotland north of edinburgh… including loch lomond, stirling, crieff, dunkeld and perth. Even though there’s so much activity happening in edinburgh right now, it felt good to get out and see the countryside. From small farm backroads to tiny cobblestone alleyways hidden between buildings from the 18th century… the day was full of hidden surprises… and hidden beauty.

I love the city. I love its energy… its beat. I can’t help feel a sense of romance when I see a twinkling city skyline pressed against the dark of the night. It feels magical… but the countryside is not without its charms as well. The cool misty air at the foot of the scottish highlands… rolling grassy hills, blanketed in rich purple heather… dotted with countless grazing animals and weeping trees. The calm loch waters lazily lapping against rocky shorelines… nestled between distant peaks.

The city draws us together like a wanton mistress… with a ferver and heat at its lips. It pulses in our ears and burns at our tounge… consuming us in its embrace… invigorating our spirit but briefly… leaving us lifeless in its retreat. And the country beckons… like cool water to our lips… to calm and revive us… to remind us that we were not born from the concrete and block and piercing artifical light… that we came from the  wooded hills… from the windy plains… with grass and sand and rock at our feet. And so we breathe deep and slow… listening… quiet. And we feel… we wait… and leave again.

I’ve decided to undertake a small group photography project while I’m here in scotland… RandomThoughtShot. It’s a pretty simple project… challenging you to take something written… something random… and translate it into something visual. I want to keep the project pretty simple… and open to interpretation. And it’s open to anyone. Including you.

On August 29th, I will post 6 words/phrases/sayings/what have you on the RTS website. Take these words… take your camera… and shoot something. Then… I’ll want you to tell me why you shot what you did. Easy.

It’ll be fun.

I’ve been in edinburgh a little over a month now. It’s amazing how quickly time moves… when you stop moving. The days felt so long before coming here to scotland. But the days here have also been filled with new friends, new places, and new experiences. In august, edinburgh is full of festivals and events. One of which is the edinburgh fringe festival… one of the largest comedy and theater festivals in the world. The city is full of people right now and hums with excitement. I also visited glasgow this past week…  a larger city with a more industrial and blue collar feel but rich with history and character. I’m planning an ireland trip for early september… and will spend a few weeks going through cork, gallway, and dublin. I’m also reserching walking the west highland way - a 95 mile trail near the western shores of scotland. This trail would be similar to the camino - except that I would free camp along the way and the weather would likely be harsher. But the thought of experiencing this beautiful scottish landscape in quiet and by foot appeals to me… as even to this day I miss the experience of the camino.

And as plans are made, plans are changed. My stay in scotland has been longer than originally anticipated… but has been a beautiful time in many respects… and my visit will continue on still. Hardly feels like summer most days… but warm days are quickly replaced by the warmth of the people I’ve encountered here. The scots are a proud people… friendly beyond all expectation… and though I have a hard time understanding them, learning about them has been interesting. And the town is full of other visitors, expats… australians, spaniards, french… a colorful mixture of languages and cultures.

a scottish ceilidh
a folk dance not unlike square dancing. The best good ol’ fashioned time I’ve had in years.

This past weekend I went camping on crammond island… a small island near edinburgh, scotland. A long causeway leads from the shore to the island… offering a path only during low tide… which occurs early in the morning and mid evening. It’s a bit of a strange feeling to be “trapped” on an island… within sight of the edinburgh skyline… and yet so disconnected. The island is littered with old WWII bunkers that I was told were used once to defend the mouth of the firth of fourth. Now these small concrete, graffiti laden structures are crumbling shelters for visitors to the island. You can still see the foundations where large guns were once attached inside of them… and look through portholes where the guns were aimed out into verdant countryside.

Though strikingly beautiful… the island, like much of scotland I’ve experienced so far, was wet and cold. Even more than when I lived in seattle, a beautiful sunny day here is a bit of an anomaly… something to be celebrated and revered. And made even that much more special.

I’m about 4 days shy of having been on the road for 3 months. A nice round figure I guess. Do I feel different? Have I learned anything? Gained new insight… changed? Perhaps it’s too early to tell… or perhaps these things happen too gradual. Like when you look at old pictures of yourself at a younger age… and are shocked at how different you really looked back then. Those changes happen too slowly to be noticed in the day to day. And perhaps these changes are the same. I’ve laughed, loved, cried, seen new and amazing things… felt lonely, scared, content, bored, happy…

perhaps only later I will understand what this all amounts to.

Hola mis amigos y familia. Yo he decidido escribir este post en español. Mi español no es perfecto… entonces… deberias perdoner mis errores. Estudio la idioma por seis horas cada dia y despues lo hablo con amigos que les conozco aqui. Me gusta habalar con ellos. Hablan muy rapido y con mucho slang, pero me gusta la practica. Para mi, es mas facil entenderlo que hablarlo. Estoy como un niño cuando yo hablo. A veces, tengo que hablar muy lenta y con mucho concentración. Pero estoy mejorando cada vez que yo trato.

He conicido muchas personas simpaticas aqui… especialmente de couchsurfing. Hay intercambios de idiomas cada miercoles… muchos divertido. Hay gente de españa, inglaterra, francia, marruecos, portugal, slovakia… y otras paises.

Dos veces, fui a la casa de la prima de mi amiga para nadar en una piscina… que fresca! Hace muchisimo calor en granada… la ciudad es lejos del mar y al lado de las montañas que se llaman las sierra nevadas. Tambien, fui a una pelicula al aire libre en Sacromonte. Se llamaba “14 kilometers” y fui de Africa. Todavia, no he visitado la ahlambra…. un lugar muy importante a granada. Creo que me ire´este jueves… pero no se´. El fin de semana pasado, yo fui a cordoba. Visite´ la mezquita y otra lugares antiguous. Tuve mucho divertido… pero hace mas calor en cordoba que granada…! Sude´muchos esa fin de la semana…!

Entonces… estare´triste cuando yo salgo. Parece que yo amo cada de las ciudades que yo visito! Gracias por todo, granada…. y gracias a mis amigos y famila en EEUU. Creo que deberiás escribir mi en español un poco…! Vale!

So it seems that españa enjoys a good game of futbol every now and then… especially when they make it to the finals of the eurocup… hmm? There´s nothing quite like watching a big futbol match in a country who´s playing. I watched manchester beat barcelona way back when I was in london… I watched france get eliminated from the eurocup while in paris… and in portugal I saw two close but disappointing losses…

Alas… granada is a beautiful city… dry and hot like tucson actually. I´ve made arrangements for language school and am moving in to an apartment here today (not sure right now the details of this new home…).

I feel like I´ve been traveling very slowly… but gettin to know each place I inhabit pretty well. The next two weeks I´ll be here studying… then it´s off to morocco… with a quick trip to scottland before hand… adios.

I´ll have to admit… I was feeling a bit blue when I first arrived in Lisboa. The weather was muggy and rain threatened. I had just left paris… where I was starting to get used to the city and the people I met there. Now I was in a new city and new country… not sure what was in store for me. After the 5th or 6th person tried to sell me hash in the main square… I felt down. I don´t know if it was loneliness… or just that tinge of sorrow that comes when something you enjoyed comes to an end. But what happened over the next 9 days or so assured me of at least one thing: People are truly the spice and joy of travel.

The Lisboa couch surfing group quickly welcomed me to their home. From a blues night at a local bar to a lazy day at the beach to a silent showing of Nosferatu to a un-decipherable circus school performance… filled with dynamic conversations with portugese, norwegians, french, bulgarians, canadians… and the list goes on. The apprehension I felt when I first arrived evaporated slowly as I got to know the cs group and their city. I couldn´t help leaving without dwelling on the thought that indeed… it was the people that enriched my experience in that city.

So as I arrive in Granada, that familar tinge of sadness surfaces… but this time its easier to remind myself that more rich experiences are to come… borne mostly from the people I will encounter…

I´m currently in the capitol city of portugal… lisboa. A beautiful, hilly city nestled against a river at the mouth of the atlantic ocean. The trip so far has been relaxing… lots of sun, beach, and exploring. The portugese people i´ve met here have been warm and inviting. Like france, I´m a bit of a fish out of the water when it comes to the language… which I can only describe as a mixture of spanish and russian. Couchsurfing has been fun (once again)… and I´ll likely stay here until early next week.

But that begs the question, what next then? hmmm… timing wasn´t quite right to pursue being a hospitalero on the camino (volunteer helper at the refuges). Recently, I´ve really felt the desire to improve my spanish. So I´m thinking of leaving portugal and heading down to southern spain… granada. I´m looking into a few weeks of intensive language courses. My spanish improved a bit while on the camino… but is still pretty basic. I´m almost embarrased by my relative mono lingual ability. I´ve met countless people who speak 2 if not more languages. Obviously, knowing the language opens a whole new door inside a culture. And even though the camino reminded me how similar we all are… being able to cross those lines of language is a really amazing oppurtunity to experience. There was nothing quite like the feeling of standing in spain… saying something in spanish… being understood… and then understanding the response. Alas… hopefully my nana will be proud when we speak spanish at christmas!

After that it will likely be on to northern africa (since they speak a lot of spanish there!). The desert awaits.

Bom Dia!

I`ve said it many times.  I love photography. And the reasons for my love are varied. For one, photography is our only true method of time travel. The combination of lens and medium freezes time to a single precise moment. And it`s this specific moment that we revisit when we look at a photograph. Old photographs are gateways to faces and artifacts long lost amidst the folds of time. They are portals into the lives and landscapes which have long perished… a means to experience these moments once again.

Photography is also a form of poetry. The cliché rings true in that whole stanzas can be written by a single image. A story can be told… tragedy, love, hope, fear… all the common elements of the human experience can be shown… better yet, expressed… through a single photograph.   

In its ability to take us back and relate the poetry of a moment, a photograph is, at its most basic, simply a visual record. It`s a means of communicating experience from one person to another… which transcends time, language, or culture. But it`s this most basic characteristic that I have found most corrupted…

Perhaps it began when I arrived in london… But it grew to a fever pitch after returning to paris. Namely, the constant barage of tourist point and shoot photography… it simply makes me nauseous.

I`ve seen people move from well known artifact to artifact, barely lifting their head took look with their own eyes… while manically snapping photographs… Like some sort of travel treasure hunt where points are earned by the quantity of photographs rather than their quality… where ultimate victory is determined by the quantity of photographs containing some sort of world known, nauseatingly omni-photographed, attraction… 

Like the couple who took their picture in front of a bilboard of the paris skyline… like the over the shoulder, thumbs-up shot in front of the mona lisa… like the through the glass shot of the ancient coin display… 

scenes like this make me feel dirty to reach for my camera… and yet I know we all experience travel in a different way. I just don`t want my own experience to be one glued to a camera lcd screen… snapping away at everything that moves or looks old… 

I guess it`s just a balance…

i left spain yesterday and have returned to paris for the next week or so… a city that deserves some more exploration. then i will head to portugal, with a possible stop to try and volunteer a few weeks on the camino as a hospitalero: need to research that idea some more. this morning i had an oppurtunity to upload pictures from santiago and finisterre. I hope you enjoy them…