Photographs
I love this overcast, wet weather. I have the French windows open so that I can listen to the sound of the falling rain, and as it trickles down the down pipe from the gutters.
Cheeky Devil in China Town, Honolulu.
A Little Bit of Magic in the Air
Maui has so many microclimates, and with that the weather can vary in a very short space of time. Yesterday from what I could see most of the island was covered in cloud. Where I live there was a lot of wind, but I had to run Upcountry and there the air was very different. It was still, so still. Even the landscape felt still. Being March there was a little chill in the air as well. These conditions, along with the distant views available Upcountry, brought a little magic to the surroundings.
For a while I could feel the presence of the little corner of South Wales where I lived before moving to the US.
I lived in the same area for just shy of twenty years, a small rural village at the end of four miles of country roads. It was very quiet there, few distractions. Radio was my only source of media entertainment. I had no television and the internet (dialup) only arrived a few years before I left. I spent a lot of time outside experiencing the elements. I felt as though I became very intimate with that landscape. It became very familiar to me. With time, through living there and the lack of distractions, my mind quietened down and started to recognize subtleties in environment, the magic in the air. The place became special to me, truly home.
Over two decades later I still remember that corner of South Wales fondly. It has a place in my heart. Yesterday I was transported back there.
Haleakala peeks above an overcast sky
Graffiti faces seen around China Town in Honolulu.
Now this is something that I had not seen or tasted before. A green Matcha (green tea) IPA. We had been gifted a sushi meal at Islander Sake Brewery in China Town, Honolulu, and they served as this Matcha IPA from Kyoto. I think that this is the brew? Very tasty, and certainly a striking colour.
Yesterday we visited the Honolulu Museum of Art to see an exhibition of David Hockney prints, both old and new. I had wanted to see this exhibition and with my wife’s birthday a couple of days before the exhibition closes, it made for good timing for a reason to head over to Honolulu to view it.
In China Town, Honolulu yesterday evening.
The Clean Up Crew - a flock of white egrets chasing the mower as the grass is cut.
The Wall that Heals
A little over two weeks ago The Wall that Heals, a touring replica of the Vietnam Wall Memorial hosted by the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund, arrived in Maui. It was here for five days, and I went to visit it the day before it left. I saw the actual Memorial in Washington DC almost forty years ago, and although then I knew no one connected with the war and indeed little about the war, I found the Wall very moving.
When I heard of this replica’s visit to the island I decided that I wanted to visit. By the time that it had arrived on Maui I had a cold that was depleting my energy. Nevertheless, I did not want to miss the opportunity and one morning drove to the War Memorial Stadium where it was being housed. I was planning to be home within a couple of hours…that didn’t happen.
The Wall tours in a truck. When it arrives at its next destination, the sides of the truck serve as an exhibition relating the history of the war through words, videos and relics. The Wall itself is housed in sections inside the truck, and is taken out and assembled upon arrival at the new destination.
I found the exhibition very informative and moving, and this was a good part of what caused me to be later home than my planned couple of hours. With the Wall situated inside the stadium, noise from outside was muted, providing a quiet, reflective atmosphere for your time at the Wall. I started and one end and slowly made my way to the other. Previous visitors had left flowers and notes in memory of fallen family members. I located some of those soldiers, and it gave for me a greater sense of connection to these names just being ordinary people who found themselves in extraordinary circumstances.
I walked the length of the Wall, past the names of over 58,000 American soldiers who died between 1955 to 1975. The magnitude of the Memorial and accompanying exhibition, along with many conflicting questions and maybe sadness as well, caused me to forget my cold until I was on my way home.
A table outside set for dinner last night, with friends having just arrived from out of State. Although a fire was lit in the fire pit and chairs set around it, a stormy evening dissuaded anyone (apart from myself) from hanging out around it.
This afternoon’s rainbow, with a second very faint one just above it. π
The Story Behind the Photograph: From the Roof of a Bus
Road from Gaya to Bodhgaya from the roof of a bus
Following my time in Patna, I continued my journey onto Bodhgaya by catching a train to the city of Gaya. I travelled to Gaya by train along with an American, Ray, whom I had met in Patna. I had an omelette for breakfast in my hotel room, settled up with the hotel owner and then caught a rickshaw along with Ray to the railway station. There was a lot of misunderstanding between us and the rickshaw driver, and when we settled up on arrival we weren’t sure if his annoyance was because we’d paid too little, or if it was a show to get some more money? We chose to leave things as they were. I went to buy a newspaper to read on the journey and then went to find our train and carriage. On reaching our second class seats there was still plenty of room on board. However, the train soon filled up and by the time that we were underway seating became tight and squashed even though we thought that the express train that we were on would negate that experience. This was our first Indian train and we were still learning.
Seated, I picked up the newspaper that I had bought earlier. I had a quick flick through it and passed it onto Ray, not engaging much with the stories. Ray quickly passed it back to me, pointing out the article below.
I couldn’t believe it. Just to say that at that time I didn’t really know who the Dalai Lama was. I was aware of his existence, but that was about it. And this was 1989. He wasn’t the world figure that he is today. Subsequently, people who I met who had been around him for a number of years prior said that 1989 was the year that things changed for His Holiness. That was the year that he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize and really came to the world’s attention.
All of this aside, I was still excited. I had an unexpected but growing interest in Buddhism, was traveling to Bodhgaya because of this (I did not know of the village’s existence when I left home just over four months earlier), and now I find out that the Dalai Lama would be there at the same time that I was visiting.
We spent a day in Gaya, just exploring the streets making up the city. As in Patna we encountered demonstrations related to the upcoming elections. Nothing to disrupt our day, but another presence in the town. I had read and noted in my journal that Gaya,
is 2nd only to Varanasi in its sanctity.
Here is what I wrote about some of those wanderings.
We headed off through the crowded shopping streets, street vendors selling peanuts, fruits and a few other concoctions. We disappeared down some further backstreets, finding ourselves staired [sic] at a lot. We passed what appeared to be a loading bay for sacks of this and that. Back streets were filthy, really dirty. Stagnant black, scummy water in open drains. Piles of rubbish, there is one across the road from the hotel which the cows make good use of. Muddy streets, black mud, and ponds lying in the middle of the road. Rickshaws go by ringing bells, bicycles go by ringing bells, scouters go by making rasping noises with horns, autorickshaws, later in the day heat & dust.
We found the Vishnupad Mandir on the banks of the Phalgu River on which Gaya itself also sits. Not being Hindus, we were not allowed in the temple, but that did not matter. Gaya was offering us a lot to take in as it was. The river itself was more like a series of smaller rivers right now. There were people down by the river washing clothes, hanging around or making their way across. Dogs and cows joined them.
The Phalgu River in Gaya
Ray and I found a chai store where we sat down to eat, drink and watch life go by - a favourite occupation of mine.
The next day we travelled south to Bodhgaya. Rickshaw drivers and private vehicle owners tried to tempt us with rides for the 13km journey to Gaya, but we opted for the cheapest option - a Rs1.50 bus journey and the subject matter of the photograph at the top of this piece. We sat on the the roof to enjoy the journey and better see the environment that we were passing through. Leaving Gaya we had to be careful of low hanging power cables, but once out of town that was no longer a bother. Again, I’ll let my journal tell the tale,
…through flat agricultural land, small temples here and there, horse carts, autorickshaws, buses, horns honking. On our left was the dried up River Phalgu.
Arriving in Bodhgaya we had a chai before going off looking for accommodation. I scouted while Ray watched our backpacks. Finally housed in a hotel we went off to take a look around the village and see what Bodhgaya had install for us.
Yesterday morning’s view at sunrise.
My wife gave me two of these metal tumblers from Japan for Valentines Day. They are great at keeping drinks cold…, and look good as well.
Well there’s week 3 of the Watch to 5K program completed. The conditions were perfect today - overcast, barely a breeze, and a comfortable temperature. There was some stiffness, but I was feeling better with the longer runs.
A rainbow is never far away here, but the wet and windy weather is producing some good ones at the moment π
On a roll at the moment. This evening’s rainbow π
The Story Behind the Photograph: A View Over the River Ganges
Photo of a slide projected onto a wall.
It was mid November, 1989. I was four months into my journey through Central Asia. With my visa expiring, my time in Nepal was drawing to a close. Not feeling ready to go home, indeed a deeper sense of purpose and exploration beginning to arise from the trip thus far, I decided to travel down to India. I had left home with a few vague goals of things that I wanted to see or do, otherwise I was following my nose and seeing where the adventures would take me. During my travels to date I had experienced a deepening interest in Buddhism, a story within itself, and because of that I decided to head to Bodhgaya the place of Buddha’s Enlightenment. I was in Kathmandu and Bodhgaya is essentially directly south of the city, albeit a journey in itself. The route that I took went this way,
Kathmandu -> Birgunj at the Nepalese/India border -> Patna -> Gaya -> Bodhgaya
This journey started with an overnight bus ride from Kathmandu to Birgunj at the Indian border. I arrived at the border in the early hours of the morning, 4:30am to be precise. The temperature was cool. Streets were quiet. A full moon shaped like a rugby ball as it hung low in the sky was turning orange. A lot of rickshaws and donkey carts waited around.
I caught a rickshaw and headed towards the border, however I’m not sure that it was the 4km as the driver claimed!
From my memory the immigration and customs process on the Nepalese side was smooth and friendly, the Indian side was completely the opposite. I felt as though the officials were holding it against me to have them up at this unearthly hour…possibly a valid complaint?! From my journal,
Nepal immigration was friendly, let me keep my trekking permit as a souvenir, and as I left said “see you again.” … Then Indian customs; unfriendly, short curt questions, at least he didn’t waste time emptying my pack. Immigration was equally unfriendly, but at least there was a smile out of the guy halfway through the proceedings. He spent a while finishing some other paperwork…, ruled some lines in a book and then dealt with us; a Japanese couple as well. I had filled out my forms and sat there and watched him for a long time.
Once I was through all the red tape I went in search of the bus to Patna. Six hours later, and a couple of stops for chai on the way, the bus came to halt just short of Patna. It turned out to be a demonstration of some sort (I found out later that elections were happening, and this demonstration was related to them). Once we were underway again the bus crossed a long bridge spanning the River Ganges, on which Patna sits.
On arriving at the bus station I quickly found a rickshaw. I asked to be taken to a particular hotel that I had in mind to stay at, but the driver took me to different one. I didn’t know where I was and so I went in to see what I could make of this hotel. I managed to bargain down the price of the room and then the hotel owner took me out on his motorbike to look for a bank to change money - I had been in his country for less than a day. I don’t know why he did this though as it was a Sunday? Banks were closed. I would try again tomorrow.
The next morning the owner of the hotel woke me up, I assume by knocking on my door though I have no record as to his method. He asked me if I would like breakfast - tea and an omelette with toast. With food inside me I went downstairs to chat with him in his cloth shop before heading out to look for a bank. This is where the subject matter for the photograph started to emerge.
On stepping out of his shop I was immediately swept away by a mass of humanity. I was only going in one direction: where the the crowds, old and young, were going. The hotel owner had told me that today was the Hindu Festival, β Kartika Purnima, and (as he wrote in my journal),
All people want to bathe in River Ganga.
Down by the river I climbed onto a wall. I shall allow my journal to explain the scene that I looked out on (the photograph can do the rest),
[The River Ganges] must be 3km wide at this point. The far bank was a mass of people, all sizes of boats were plying between the two shores, being rowed and laden with people. On my shore people were bathing in the Ganges, some fully clothed, men in loin cloths or mini sarongs.
And from my memory there was a haze in the air, a haze that in time I came to associate with India - dust driven up by the shear number of people and a mist from this time of year, Autumn slowly crossing into Winter.
In time I went on my way to find a bank and was able to change some travelers cheques. The remainder of the day I spent in Patna. I met an American who had been on the same bus as me from the Indian border and we agreed to travel down to Bodhgaya together. We ate lunch and stopped to watch a fortune teller who was using a bird to pick cards. That evening I returned to the Ganges. It was quieter now. Groups were gathered performing various rituals, symbols playing, incense burning, dancing. Some were cooking. A cremation was taking place to one side.
I returned to my hotel to sleep at the end of my first full day in India.
This morning’s rainbow π
We went to a birthday party on the south side of the island last night. It was an enjoyable evening. Just before sunset a whale and her calf swam by the house where the party was being held. As if to send birthday wishes, the calf waved it tail in the air a few times as it went by.