London/ The End

You die once you stop learning. Ever since I came across that phrase its been my mission to make every experience a learning opportunity. So I love when you can break time into discrete pieces to reflect on them. Leaving one city and country for another is such a good demarcation. I spent my last 24 hours in the same room where I spent my first. As I made sure I had all my belongings I wondered what it was that I gained from coming to London? Was it worth it? London for sure was so expensive but it is possible to weight the pounds I spent with all that I learned and gained? 

This experience once again allowed me to see the best and worst of myself. Old demons wore new masks and I found light in the places I thought would be dark forever. Unfolding is never easy but London made it feel good. 

I mainly spent time in and around South and East London. Sadly I didn't spend much time in West London because I continually told myself that it was too far away, which it was. The few times I did go I enjoyed the different vibe and energy it had. One time I was with my friend Alec and we visited his favorite museum the Victoria and Albert. The V&A as its called for short is one of the leading museums on art and design. As I explored the different floors I was transported through so many different time periods getting a peek at the decor and style of different era's. By far my favorite section of the museum beside the amazingly ornate cafe that allows anyone to dine like royalty was the series on cutlery used in homes designed by different styles. I loved seeing a visual timeline through everyday objects and how they evolve with the times. 

Afterwards, we went to the Albert Memorial which is a beautiful statue surrounded by mildly racist statues of the four corners of the earth, above you see the American corner where you can find some Bison and a Native American both of which were almost wiped out due to imperialism. 

Another thing I wish I had explored more was the museums. I made it to the Tate Modern to see this wonderful exhibition called "Soul of a Nation: Art in the Age of Black Power." This exhibition provoked so many questions in me about what black art could and should look like. As well as introducing me to new artists that I had never heard of. I also saw a beautiful exhibition of Shikeith's work in this small gallery, but I didn't see nearly enough of all that London had to offer.  What I learned is that I need to be more intentional with my time. If there are things I want to do I need to schedule them. 

Over these 3 months I learned that some  British accents are actually impenetrable. That liquor stores are called Off Licences and Brits don't season their food. I learned that Brexit has left a wound in the national soul and many people were unsure about how it would be filled. I learned I still have issues balancing a social life with work. But I also learned to develop rituals that once I master will allow me to reach the productivity I know I can. I learned that cities are the most magical when you let them unfold themselves rather than arriving with preconceived notions. Most importantly I learned that the Universe will always provide and that I need to stop the doubt. 

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Korlekie Fashion Story

I clicked the shutter and when I looked at the photo that appeared on my screen I wanted to shout for joy. After nearly an hour and a half of shooting in the studio, my first time ever, I was finally getting the kind of pictures that I wanted. I had felt trapped by the flash and the backdrop. I let the studio intimidate me. Instead, I focused on what I knew for certain and ignored the ocean of knowledge I had not yet or ever would learn. I went into my first photoshoot with an agency model and an amazing clothing brand telling myself that the most important thing was to learn and grow. I knew perfection was impossible but growth was well within my reach.  

How do you bring out the best aspects of your subject? How do you frame the scene for the best composition? These are among the most important questions that any photographer asks themselves. I photograph outside because that's where I find the answers to those questions- plus its free. I have experience answering these questions outside of the studio so from the beginning I knew that shooting in a studio was risky but with the weather being so unpredictable in London I couldn't risk getting a day with flat light.  I needed a scene that I could control because from the original plan to final execution it was all me. It was so exhilarating planning out a photoshoot and it truly made me remember why I wanted to be an artist in the first place.

This collaboration originally came about because I reached out to a Facebook group for London Fashion Creatives. This woman named Natalie reached out and she worked for this amazing local brand in south London called Korlekie. After an amazing meeting where it felt like our creative energies really synced, I went off and planned a photoshoot from scratch. It was my job to find the location, models, everything. I know understand why it truly takes a team to make a well put together editorial. Finding models is hard especially for an up and coming photographer. I had to learn how to make mood boards, navigate agencies, and learn the difference between photography categories and use agreements.  

I had hoped that I would be able to get some free models from the agencies because of my work shooting fresh faces. I had created this really elaborate and beautiful idea citing one of Edgar Allen Poe's texts but in the end, I had to pay for the models myself which forced me to scrap my plan and edit it so it would fit within my budget. It seemed like nothing was going the way I planned as we got closer to the shoot. I wasn't able to get all the flowers that I wanted because I miscalculated when the flower shop closing. The mirror I wanted to use was scratched and thus couldn't be used in the final shoot. 

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The shoot was almost canceled out of fear. I was trying to avoid this emotion so hard. As you can tell from the photos the shoot produced some beautiful images, not the ideal ones that I had hoped for but images that allowed me to grow. Fear did creep through my veins during the shoot. I did fail. I almost walked out of the shoot in tears. I was completely out of my element I let my pride stop me from asking for help. But then in the darkness came a light, a resolution that this wouldn't defeat me. that I knew more then I gave myself credit for. I started to tinker to fix, to manipulate both the settings on my camera and the ones on the flash until I remembered that this is all about light and manipulating the light. The photos went from unrecognizable to something that could be mistaken for a human and from blurry to clear and in focus. 

While I still prefer shooting outside, I definitely want to start doing more studio sessions. Its a weakness and I must learn and ensure that it eventually becomes a strength. You can't run away from fear, because when you do you often miss out on how great you are. 

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Divanun Guide/ Barcelona

This DivaNun Guide is a one pager of everything to do, see, and eat in Barcelona, Spain.

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Historical

• Barcelona Cathedral
  • Gorgeous Gothic Cathedral that is the heart of the Gothic Quarter
• Gothic Quarter
  • Beautiful cobble stone streets transport you back through time in this quaint neigbhorhood
• Labyrinth Garden of Horta
  • The oldest garden in the city is also home to a very fun hedge maze

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Cultural

• Las Ramblas
  • A large open walking street filled with restaurants, buskers, and a vibrant positive energy
• Street Art
  • I loved seeing all the inventive and bright street art the covers the walls
• Liberia Complices
  • An LGBT book store in the Gothic Quarter
• Architecture of Gaudi
  • The city is covered with beautiful work by this architectural master. 
• La Merce
  • a festival that honors the patron saint of Barcelona and happens in late Septermber

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Food

• Avinyo 10 Restaurant
  • has a good paella lunch special in the Gothic Quarter
• Bar Marsella
  • Old school Absinythe Bar that Hemingway used to frequent
• A Tu Bola
  • Chain restaurant serving delicious easy to eat fried balls with craft local Barcelona beer
• Swagatam Restaurant
  • If you are craving some indian in the land of tapas then look no further it was bomb~
• Ugarit Verdi
  • One of the best meals I had. This is a small neighborhood chain in Gracia that serves some amazing Syrian food. Make sure you get the stew with chickpeas and eggplant twas diving
• Entre Hores
  • This place has a fig, iberian ham, honey, cheese on bread dish that will knock your socks off. It was so good I had to eat it twice.
• El Viejo Almacen
  • This cute little empanada spot in Gracia has some delicious little treats.

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Miscellaneous

• Transportation
  • This city is extremely walkable and as well has a great public transportation system of buses and trains that are easy to navigae

Labyrinth Park of Barcelona

The first time I ever heard of a hedge maze was in the pages of the fourth Harry Potter book. Ever since then I've always dreamed of getting lost in a huge maze with nothing but my wits to help me escape. When the National Building Museum revealed their annual summer project in 2014 was a maze I had to go. Even though it was short an easily solvable there was still the thrill of turning each corner unsure if you would find the center or another dead end. 

What is it about getting lost on purpose? Why is that a situation we put ourselves in? Life is already confusing enough, yet people spend hours crafting mazes and puzzles to trick us. Every time we step in a maze we are giving ourselves over to a grand design that while confusing is beautiful and orderly. Are mazes our way of navigating the profound confusion that life brings? 

I hadn't planned to go this far north of the city but as soon as my friend Attiya told me about this labyrinth garden I knew I had to change my plans. When traveling you have to create time and space to stumble upon and explore places that weren't initially a part of your itinerary. As I made my way up to the park I stumbled across "corporeal poems" created by the artist Joan Brossa. The ground was littered with deconstructed symbols of language. Letters broken by some great explosion, a question mark that looks as if it has been guillotined. I really loved how the artist made language and its deconstruction/reconstruction visible and somatic.  

The Labyrinth Park in Horta,  Barcelona takes the honor of being the oldest garden in the city, work began on it in 1791. It only costs about 2-3 euro's to enter everyday except Wednesday's when its free. While the maze is the highlight with the center, above, containing a statue of Eros- the Greek God of Love, there a lot more to see. The maze is a short endeavor but surprisingly tricky. I made it most of the way but kept getting confused on a confusing three-way turn. Eventually I realized my mistake and made it to the center. The statue is framed so beautifully among the hedges. I sat for a while before completing the rest of the maze. 

Once you get past the maze there is more gardens and architecture to see and explore. The entire grounds is gorgeous and well worth the cheap entry fee. Its a fun place to come with friends and family or to explore by yourself and get lost with your thoughts. I can't wait to come back here again and have a photoshoot among the grounds. 

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Gracia

The quiet darkness was broken by the sound of pots and pans ringing from the balconies. I looked up confused, curious about the reason behind this cacophony of sound. Attiya, the person I crashed with the second half of my time in Barcelona, lived in Gracia.  Every night at 10pm the residents here use sonic resistance as a way of showing support for the referendum. The sound continued as we made our way to her apartment to drop off my luggage. The vibe of this neighborhood was much more residential then my friend who lived in the Gothic Quarter. The pace moved a lot slower, the streets narrower, the large placa's filled with life and familial energy.

Staying in Gracia with Attiya was like moving from Dupont in DC to a row house in Georgia Ave Petworth. Both are integral to the constitution of the city but one is the face tourists see while the other is a more private, more intimate, and importantly more local. I was standing in a bar on a Monday the musical nuances of a language I couldn't understand washed over me. There was a large half-empty jar of sangria on the counter but this is not the kind of establishment where wone drinks sangria. Instead, beer and vermouth pour from the hands of the bartenders as they greet the customers by name. 

The signs and sounds of discord mixed with a vibrant creativity as I explored the neighborhood in the daylight. I could understand the deep anger and dissatisfaction that Catalans feel as a DC resident who despite living in the government capital has no vote in either chamber of the United States legislative branch. The walls in Gracia were covered with graffiti that referenced artistic legends like Frida Khalo as well as new forms of art that I hadn't seen before. Specifically, I noticed an artist who reused old soda cans and painted them  to spell out various phrases that were then placed around the city

Gracia is such a young and vibrant neighborhood. It is even the site of Park Güell a huge park that was one of the major works by Gaudí. I tried to explore it but I got the light wrong so I guess I have to come back again! 

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Barcelona Cathedral

As a travel photographer, you are always chasing the sun. Often the limited amount of time you have to spend in a place mixed with your lack of knowledge of its physical layout makes it difficult to get the kind of photos you want. There are some maxims that produce good results like waiting for sunrise and sunset but often times building placement or surprise construction can foil the best-laid plans. For example, I arrived in Barcelona the week of a large electronic festival so as I made my way to the cathedral they were also setting up a large stage and partitions. On top of that, I had no idea that as the sun set it cast an ugly shadow on the Cathedral which obscured my ability to photograph the 250 gargoyles that guard the entrance. 

The Barcelona Cathedral's full name is the Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia. Saint Eulalia was martyred at the age of 13 in 303 for refusing to announce her Christianity.  The church itself was built over a thousand years after her death. After completed it took another 450 years for the lateral towers that were in the original design to finally be built. I've always been fascinated with cathedrals and churches after reading Ken Follett's The Pillars of the Earth. So it was fascinating to go and visit a cathedral that was build before the Americas were ever colonized. 

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The inside of the cathedral is deceptively large. When I first entered the sanctuary I was blown away by the vaulted ceilings. This living museum still holds mass and people were praying as I ambled through this hallowed ground. There was always something visually interesting everywhere whether it was the molding on the pillars or the many religious dioramas. Outside in the cloister, there are 13 geese which represent the 13 tortures that Saint Eulalia faced by the Romans. 

After exploring the ground floor I made my way to the roof which only costs me 3 euro's because I visited the cathedral during its free hours in the morning. A quick ride up the elevator and I was able to see the entire city from the rooftop. I got a close-up view of the lateral towers and was able to capture the picture above.

I'm happy that I came back to the cathedral twice because its beauty cannot be absorbed in one viewing. I need to go back with a friend so that I can have a proper photoshoot on the rooftop with the city of Barcelona as my backdrop.  Make sure you subscribe below so you never miss an addition to the Archive!

Barri Gòtic

The escalating tension between the Spanish and Catalan governments wasn't the only dark cloud dimming the bright sun of Barcelona. I had planned three weeks of travel that would start in Portugal and end in Spain. However, the universe had other ideas and I missed not only one but two flights in two days. The first was definitely my fault, I woke up in my bed just as my plane to Lisbon was taking off. My body had muffled the numerous alarms I had set. The second, however, was a sign that I was never meant to make it to Portugal in the first place. I arrived in the airport with plenty of time to spare only to be told once I got to the check-in counter that there was a problem with my ticket that couldn't be resolved before the gate closed. My body was shaking when I left the airport and made the hour and a half long journey back to my bed. 

So even though my first day in Barcelona was a success when I woke up the next I was still sad about all that I had missed. Moping wasn't going to solve my problem so I packed up my bags and spent the next two days navigating the Gothic Quarter's serpentine streets. I hadn't wandered down streets this maze-like since my time in Amsterdam. Tiny streets would split in two one of which would often end in a dead end. You would round a corner only to end up in a massive square filled with people drinking. But I had no qualms about getting lost because everything was so beautiful.  

Exploring the Gothic Quarter started the process of getting me out of my funk but after a couple hours, I was starving. There was only one thing I wanted and that was paella, but with so many options and limited data on my phone I had no clue what was the best option. I found a street with a paella spot on every corner and choose the place with the best lunch deal. I got a series of small tapas and a medium size dish of paella. The rice was so succulent with just the right amount of crunch on the bottom. The seafood was a delight and I ate the whole thing faster than the time it took to make it. 

I rolled myself out of the restaurant and as the itis began to take over I knew nap time was imminentt. Before I could curl up in bed I stumbled upon an LGBT bookstore tucked away on a small street. Inside I found some local gay photography zines and added them to my personal archive. 

The Gothic Quarter is such a vibrant heart of the city of Barcelona. I can't wait to go back and see everything that I missed and have a cute photoshoot in the medieval cobblestoned streets. 

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Arrival in Barcelona

In the early morning of September 20th my plane landed in Barcelona. Warm air greeted me as I exited the airport and looked for the bus that would take me deep into the city. I arrived at the stop just before it left- the last bus until morning. My ride was free because the driver could not change the crisp 50 euro notes from the atm. The city was dark, shops were closed, people were still asleep in their beds. I don't think anyone was aware of the drama they would awake to.  

The sun streamed through the window of Johnny's apartment I walked into the kitchen and he asked me if I had heard what happened? Sometime in-between going to sleep and waking up the Spanish Government raided and arrested 14 Catalonian government officials in response to the upcoming referendum for independence. He showed me the television and had it not been for everything being spoken in Spanish you could have mistook the scene for America. Anger, the look of shock and betrayal of residents by their government. I asked why the Spanish people were upset and Johnny was quick to correct me, now more then ever the Catalonians didn't want to be called Spanish. I was ignorant of all international politics except for Brexit. I had no idea about the deep rift between Catalonians and the rest of Spain.

I had two choices. Johnny asked me if I wanted to go with him and his sisters to the protests. Or I could go and explore the city on my own. I choose the latter. Part of my travels was a purposeful break from the intense focus on American politics generally but American racial politics specifically. Even though you every country, every city, every government has their own issues. So I made my way to La Rambla the famous outdoor pedestrian mall, where a terrorist attack had killed 15 people and injured 100 more in August of 2017. The stalls lining the street were full of tourist the area seemingly bounced back refusing to balk in the face of terror. Restaurants lined the street with artisans making a buck, or in this case euro, like Galileo above. I'm used to seeing street buskers dressed up to attract potential clients but I have to say the outfits I saw while walking down this street were some of the most detailed I had seen. 

After I left La Rambla I found a side street that Johnny had recommended for some food. I sunk my teeth into patatas bravas, my favorite Spanish tapas, and some fried chicken. I was drinking my beer and dipping the chicken in a delicious turmeric garlic aioli when I heard something that sounded so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. I looked up and saw a group of 3 men playing the accordion. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what song it was until it got to the chorus. The haunting of Despacito had started and would continue for the rest of my travels in 2017. 

Despite being in Barcelona for less than 24 hours I was falling in love with the city. The architecture pictured above was a big draw. While I was living for the nightlife scene in London and the social energy- I wasn't digging the city's aesthetic qualities. I didn't have that issue in Barcelona. When you wander down the large boulevards there's just so much detail to notice. Most of the beauty can be contributed to the work and legacy of Antoni Gaudí who has left his mark on the city with buildings like Casa Batlló pictured 2nd. I was continually blown away by the beauty of the city, every corner there was something new to discover and eat.

A Lichtenstein ,my favorite pop artist, sculpture created for the 1992 Barcelona Summer Olympics called "El Cap de Barcelona"

As afternoon turned to evening I decided that my photographic exploration would have to be continued the next day. I made my way back to the Raval neighborhood and had a drink at an outdoor beer garden watching as young catalans skated and played soccer in the dwindling light. 

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London/ Fresh Faces

When I moved in the three Spaniards promised they wouldn't speak in Spanish so I would never felt left out-  while I appreciated the gesture I knew it was a promise they could never keep. In the mornings I would wake up to Abel talking to his dog Django in Spanish; in the evenings after a hard days work everyone would slip into clothing and a language that was most comfortable. You notice the musicality and beauty of a language when you don't or can't understand its meaning. Seeing how regional speech affected speed or annunciation of words. I never cared because you can learn more about a person listening to them engage in a conversation in their native language then you can speaking one foreign to them. There were different schedules but one place we always congregated was around the kitchen. Often sharing meals at the table by the window.

The First Model.

This was the home I had envisioned finding abroad. Despite not living in an artist warehouse I still managed to live with people who created art. One of my roommates is a fashion photographer.  He taught me that agencies are always looking for photographers to test what they call "fresh faces" new models that have just been added to the roster. 

I emailed the giant list he gave me and one of the agencies reached out to me. The day of my first photoshoot I was scared, not just because this was my first time working with agency models but because the weather was overcast with a chance of rain and I planned on doing all my shooting outside. The agency was on the 4th floor of a narrow building in central London. There was a farmers market down the street brimming with food trucks and young smartly dressed Londoners. A very large very old great dane tried to escape when I walked through the doors. As I talked with one of the agents about my ideas for the shoot the sky opened up. Thankfully the model was late so we missed the brief storm. 

During the photoshoot with the second model we talked about the experience of being black in the U.K. versus the U.S. Through it, we found there were similar experiences like the racist treatment which manifest in different ways due to cultural norms.

My final shoot was with Beckett who had just finished his A levels. We talked about what he saw in his future and the possibility of getting a degree in physics. All the photos were taken around the Barbican Center this amazing brutalist housing and community arts space tucked away in central London.

I love shooting outside and interacting with the world. I learned how to think on the fly and create interesting compositions using my models and the urban landscape. 

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Painting with Food

The juice and oil from the freshly cut lemon wedge ran across my palm- a culinary antiseptic. This ritualistic act cleansed our hands as well as our heads before we embarked on a journey through art using touch, taste, and smell. The sharp smell of lemon cut away any preconceived notions about food and its status as an elevated form of art, useful for more than its productive value as fuel for our bodies.

Our guide Charles Michel, my friend, and food philosopher stood next to a long slender table that contained bowls filled with bright colors that anyone could have mistaken as paint if they were not surrounded by zucchini flowers, heirloom tomatoes, and chilies. Each color came from pureeing a fruit or vegetable until all that remained was its essence. Charles Michel talked about how what we put into our mouths is the most direct way of interacting with our environment as he splashed and smeared the "paint" in a style reminiscent of Pollock.

 He alternated the use of brushes and spoons to give texture to the painting. The color black which came from cooking down some mushrooms curved across the page with the stroke of Charles's brush, a glossy orange which came from a butternut squash was splattered onto the canvas with a spoon. Part performance art part culinary education we watched him make his way around the canvas giving no central orientation from which to view the piece. It was unclear whether he was creating this painting from instinct or if it was preplanned. However, none of that mattered as the thinly sliced tomatoes and zucchini flowers were placed on the canvas because the painting was finished.

Bread fresh out the oven was passed around the room and we all took pleasure as we swiped it across the canvas soaking up the vegetable puree. My first swipe had hints of spinach, avocado, and butternut squash. The deconstruction of the painting was almost as beautiful as its creation.

The second painting or "course" contained roasted mushrooms, eggplant, bell peppers, along with some cheese and prosciutto. We scooped up this work of art with more bread. My favorite flavor was the eggplant roasted with some soy sauce, it reminded me of my time in Japan, as well the saltiness of the prosciutto brought out the sweetness of the eggplant. Hands down this was the best meal I ate the entire time I was in London. I left the table much more knowledgeable about the way food interacts with us and how important it is to be more cognizant of the food we eat everyday. While I always knew that food was art I had never been able to eat the painting after it was finished. 

Charles Michel and I.

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London/ The Beginning

Lush green fields and tiny cottages gave way to concrete and housing estates as the train neared central London. The sky was overcast and the soft dim light flattened out the horizon so everything out my window took on a painterly quality. The same questions I thought about when I landed in Tokyo came to me again. What would London teach me? How would I grow here? Who was I going to meet? However, unlike Tokyo, I had much less anxiety over them. I was more willing to cede to the Universe and trust that things would work out in the end. 

I transferred to the Victoria line and made my way to Brixton to stay with some friends. Part of what would make London a different experience was the community that I had built into the landscape of the city. The only thing I had to search for was housing and so my first 5 days were spent shuttling from South London to East London to attend roommate interviews. During those brief interactions, I could feel the potential in every living space. While Tokyo was a journey inward I could tell that London would be the beginnings of a more external journey.

The place I fell in love with was an artist warehouse near Seven Sisters tube station. Despite the lack of good ventilation and two bathrooms for 10 people, I was sold on the idea of living in an artist community. It was all I dreamed about and the chance that it might have come true was something that I wasn't going to give up. Sadly at the last minute, my housing fell through and I scrambled to find a last minute place. I reached out to the very first place that I looked at and by the grace of God was able to secure the room. 

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As I settled into my new routine in London I realized that I was way to hard on myself about my time in Japan. I thought it was an all or nothing event. That my first time living abroad on my own had to be perfect or it would be a complete failure. What I didn't realize until a couple weeks into my time in London was that Japan was just the first stop of many. The knowledge I would gain from all those events and experiences would compound over time to make me the best version of myself that I could be.

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Sandbox Global Summit/ Croatia

As the tiny propeller plane landed a little before midnight in Zadar, Croatia, I leapt out of my middle seat eager to deplane. My travel luck had finally run its course. I wasn't able to fly directly from Japan to Croatia for anything less than one thousand dollars so I had to fly to London and then onto Croatia. On top of that, I was forced to sit next to a crying baby and then upon switching seats drunken British bro's who wouldn't stop ordering shots and being rude the entire flight. However, as soon as I got off the plane my luck started to change. Because I was in Croatia for my first Global Summit with an amazing group called Sandbox. 

Four years ago on a cold sprawling farmland, about 45 minutes south of Reykjavik is where I was first introduced to Sandbox. I was there because of Scott, one of my good friends and a member of Sandbox, was throwing a music festival called Saga Fest. The experience was magical despite battling frostbite, fires, and powerful thunderstorms with only a drafty tent to provide warmth and protection. I got a chance to listen to local Icelandic acts, have amazing conversations, and eat hamburgers made from beef farmed only 30 minutes away. The conversations was what really made the event special because I kept meeting people who were ready willing and able to have deep vulnerable conversations. Each individual struck me as being very driven, smart, authentic everything that I wanted to be but wasn't quite sure how to achieve. I woke up one morning in my tiny tent and I cried. Never did I think I would be in Iceland at a music festival hosted by a friend while I was attending Eastern High School in DC. Most of the people in attendance were apart of this community called Sandbox and I knew I had to join the local DC hub.

The Zadar airport was one of the tiniest that I had ever seen. Some of us were forced to stand outside because there wasn't enough room in the customs queue for everyone on the tiny propeller plane. A small group in front of me stood out from the party boys eager to continue drinking, the families preparing for their vacation, and the Croatians returning home. I wondered if they like me were heading to the summit. Before I could ask, one of them turned and asked me if I was in Sandbox. After a series of introductions we talked about our excitement for the upcoming event. They told me the Panama summit the previous year was amazing and that I was going to love every minute of my time in Croatia. Once we made it through customs these people that I had just met suggested that I stay with them in their Airbnb instead of waiting up all night for the AM bus to Sibenik.

We woke up the next morning and had some time before our bus. After realizing that Old Town Zadar was just down the street we decided to walk and take a look. A number of delectable pastry shops caught our eye as we walked and with no will to hold us back we dove in to taste some of these goodies. With paper bags full of flour, meat, and cheese we headed towards the Old Town. We stopped at the small bridge that connects downtown Zadar with the Old town and ate our breakfast.  After we finished we walked across the bridge to get a closer look and were greeted with narrow streets and large squares. All the buildings had a similar dusty brown color and the bricks showed signs of age that gave the impression of charm rather than neglect. 

The bus ride to Sibenik was quick but we got to see and learn so much about the Croatian coastline. Beautiful houses sat right on the water and tiny towns brimming with life zoomed past us as the bus brought us closer to our island adventure. Once we arrived in Sibenik we ate at an amazing little bistro called SHE  which served local and vegan/vegetarian food options. I also got to try some Croatian craft beer which was so delicious. As more people started to gather I watched them great each other like family. Since I was so new I felt sort of isolated because I didn't have the same history with these people.

The boat which took us to the island of Obonjan barely fit all of us and our luggage, I had to move deftly around to capture pictures of the sea and islands as the boat piloted through them. The reunions and conversations continued and I knew I had to push myself. After everything I learned in Tokyo, I couldn't return to my old ways. I forced myself to talk to people and was greeted with such warmth and genuine curiosity, that were the hallmarks of this summit.  

The island of Obonjan was paradise for the week and some change that I spent on it. I had no idea that Croatia was such a beautiful country. As people from all around the world gathered on this tiny island I wondered why the rest of the world couldn't be like this. Why couldn't we be radically open with one another and skip the small talk? In DC I was so used to these invisible barriers between people that stop real connections and conversations from taking place. To exist in a place where those barriers fell away made me never want to leave the island.  

But sadly all good things must come to an end, and during the midnight dance party, I pulled my luggage aboard a tiny vessel. The music that once pulsed through my veins started to get fainter and fainter as we headed to shore until the only sound was the wind whipping around us. The tiny airport in Split was empty when the cab dropped us off. I had three flights ahead of me before I could rest comfortably in a bed but none of that mattered. I was still high from the retreat and all the magic that it contained. 

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