Pai

 

The tiny minivan careened around another blind curve. The road to Pai from Chiang Mai contains 762 hairpin turns as you go up a mountain- this ride is not for those who get motion sickness easily. I thought I'd be fine but a third of the way up the mountain my stomach started to get upset. The view, while pretty was doing nothing for my motion sickness, there was no horizon for me to focus on. Just steep valleys filled with trees quickly replaced by tall rock faces and shacks build precariously on the edge. A tiny Korean woman behind me looked like she was ready to blow. Next, to me, the Chinese man was massaging his girlfriend's hand in between her thumb and index finger. I repeated the same act on my hand and I could feel my stomach start to calm. I asked if he had any more tips for fighting motion sickness when we stopped for a break halfway up the mountain. He gave me some tiger balm to rub under my nostrils. The remedies kept my stomach under control for the second half of our journey until at last hilly mountainous jungle gave way to a small town filled with people, motorcycles, and dogs. 

My friends from Bangkok and Chiang Mai had checked into the Pai Circus hostel the day before. I stood at the bus terminal waiting for my shuttle to arrive. While I waited I looked around the dusty street taking in my new surroundings. The air up here was very cool even though it was the middle of the day. Tourists wandered around in front of storefronts that boasted vegan foods and rasta sensibilities. When the cart arrived to pick me up I got to see the rest of the tiny town of Pai. All the buildings were short and squat made mostly out of wood tons of shops advertised handmade trinkets and yoga sessions. Pai was truly a hippy paradise nestled in the mountains.

Upon arrival at the hostel, I was taken aback by the gorgeous views of the surrounding area. The hostel itself consisted of a large open air lobby. All of the rooms were scattered around the edges of the perimeter. In the middle was a couple hammocks, a pool with a sign saying it would be fixed in one day, that was up the whole 3 nights I was there, and a covered area for the bar. While everyone else reserved a nice bungalow I tried to be cheap by staying in the shared room for one dollar less. But when I walked in and heard the floors creak underneath me I knew I had made the wrong decision. This was, however, the cheapest accommodation I had found so far so I shouldn't be surprised that I could see through the wood slats to the ground underneath. Each bed came with its own mosquito net and a solitary fan hung in the corner incapable of cooling the entire room due to its angle. I laid my belongings under my mosquito net praying to god I'd be able to sleep come nightfall. 

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I found my friends at the bar and we exchanged hugs before getting a quick bite to eat.  We went to go eat at one of the shops across the road from the hostel. There was a rooster making noise in a cage below us, tiny ants crawled across the table, and an unreliable Wi-fi password was scribbled onto the menu. As we waited for the food to arrive I learned that the previous day someone in their van had vomited all over my friends Noah's stuff during the ride. And my friend Walt got into an accident on his motorcycle as he navigated the unforgiving terrain, getting his very own Pai tattoo. 

The next day we congregated in bungalow D17 discussing our plans. The group had decided to rent motorcycles to go explore the countryside. Rooted in my fear of bikes I decided to stay back not wanting a Pai tattoo of my own. However, due to some unforeseen circumstances, I got a second chance to go with them and I decided to take it. Travel is about facing fears so I decided to not let this one stop me from having my nature adventure. I got on back of Noah's bike despite this being his first time driving a motorcycle and dug my nails into his side. The wind whipped around us as we gained speed, threatening to knock me into traffic. The town flew by us as we made our way to our first destination the Mor Paeng Waterfall.

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The paved streets soon gave way to gravel which then gave way to dirt littered with rocks. As you can imagine the suspension on the motorcycle was shit so Noah and I bounced so hard I thought we were on a mechanical bull. Fields of rice grazed my peropheral vision as cows wandered in their pastures. When we arrived at Mor Paeng my legs were a little wobbly but I was alive.  We had to climb down a trail from the road and then climb up the slippery rock face of Mor Paeng. For a second I thought I had come for nothing but I found a way to climb up the mountain without ripping my pants or dropping my camera.

Once I reached the top I saw  local Thai men doing trick jumps into the pool of water that formed at the top of the waterfall. People took turns swimming as different travel groups came and went. We chilled there for about an hour before heading off to our next destination. I climbed on the back of Noah's bike with more confidence then I had previously.

During my second ride I no longer had to hold on for dear life. I was content with my hands hovering near his waist. Ebony was taking video while sitting on the back of Kieran's bike but I wasn't that bold. We passed by a huge Pai sign and advertisements for strawberries as we headed towards the Pai Canyon. We pulled up on the side of the road next to a collection of other motorcycles and a roadside food stall. After walking up what seemed like an endless set of stairs- a large plateau greeted us with steep cliffs and bright greens contrasting against the dusty yellows and reds of the rock.

Past the trees, the mountains rose up to reach the sky on the horizon it was a beautiful view that would be great during sunset.  I sat down and looked out into the vastness of nature. Looking back this was when the seed of my love for nature was planted. 

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That night we sat on mats at a local bar- it was our last. We marveled at how we went from strangers to close friends in a matter of weeks. I couldn't imagine traveling the rest of Thailand without their humor and support.  I thought about the nature of friendships in general, how can I bring this level of openness to the "real world?" Yes backpacking and the isolation of being in a foreign country created a bond that is highly situational. But that doesn't mean that we can't carry this openness with us in our every day lives. 

 


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Chiang Mai

 

I opened my eyes on the pale morning after Loi Krathong to the sound of zippers- which signaled that backpackers were off to their next destination. Goosebumps traveled across my exposed skin as the fan swung side to side. The curtains on the bunk beds rippled slightly as the air swept past me. I slept for a little while longer before getting up to see my friends off to Pai. With the big festival over, Chiang Mai began to decompress and instead of following the tourist caravan out of the city I decided to stay one extra day. 

 Since my arrival in the airy mountainous town of Chiang Mai I've been busy. From feeding elephants at a sanctuary to going to a muay thai fight, making my own Krathong and going to a lantern release- I've had no time to relax. Cities and town reveal themselves in the slow moments when you lazily walk down a street, not when you rush around with a predetermined list to be checked off. As well I needed some alone time. In almost an instant I went from traveling solo to having a crew of 6 other people to eat and explore with. I wanted to journal about my first three weeks in Thailand and the connections I had made. 

I started off my day by heading to Wat Pan Whaen one of the numerous temples around my hostel, Thailand Wow. Then I ate at a small restaurant next to it that is only open 4 hours a day 5 days a week.  I had tried several times to eat at this place but it was always closed. When I sat down there was a mother and daughter who worked at the shop seated by the door. One other customer sat back in a far corner while Thai game shows played on the television. Someone came over to me and asked what I wanted and I said, Khao Soi, the only dish on the menu.  Five minutes later the famed dish of the north was sitting in front of me. The mustard yellow soup with egg noodles and chicken leg topped with crispy egg noodles. My first bite was a combination of crunchy and soft, sour and spicy. Heaven was an IV with this broth dripping into my system. Invigorated I continued my quiet exploration. Taking random streets to see where they lead, window shopping all the stores-learning a city the only way feet know how. I walked into every small temple I found on my path admiring the attention to detail and the bright colors. Except for old Catholic cathedrals, religious houses in the USA take after Protestant values and can be a tad austere.

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My lazy day was coming to an end when I stumbled across a huge stage and a street lined with stalls. At first, I thought this was a remnant of the Loi Krathong festival, but every Sunday they have a huge market in central Chiang Mai. A perfect place to pick up souvenirs or just eat local food. Days no longer matter when backpacking, they fold into one another so I had no clue it was Sunday. Instead, you mark the time by the nights before you have to move on to the next city and this was my last. The Sunday market was a fury of activity, vendors were selling everything from jewelry to socks, essential oils to sculptures. I was rifling through a pile of souvenirs when I noticed everything go eerily quiet. Looking up I noticed all the Thai people had stopped moving at the stall. Creeped out, I walked away to find the whole street frozen in time. People were stopped mid-order. The few foreigners looked around at each other in total confusion but I stood still hoping the situation would elucidate itself. Seconds later a sound came across the loudspeakers and I figured this must have been in response to the recent cremation of the king. Instead it was the Thai National anthem which plays twice a day in public spaces and the radio/tv et cetera. Aside from a national sports game I can't remember the last time I heard the USA national anthem in a public space. 

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When I made my way back to the hostel I sat in a nook and journaled some more. A mixture of fear and excitement flowed from my pen. Even though it was less than 24 hours I was already missing my travel companions and I couldn't wait to meet them in Pai the next day.  Some new people had arrived by the time I had finished but I wasn't in the mood to talk to them. Navigating solo travel means stealing away any time you have by yourself because you are often not alone. Either you are surrounded by people in the hostel or the tourists and locals you meet while exploring. Through my headphones, I could hear some of the conversations they were having about where they were from and where they were headed. The backpacker cycle would continue with or without me. 

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Loi Krathong

 

Amber dots danced across the midnight blue sky! They numbered in the hundreds but soon thousands of hopes, dreams, wishes, and prayers would clutter the horizon. Floating off in the distance taking away people's doubt and fear- leaving room for abundance. The embankment I sat on across from the main temple was illuminated by the full moon. Boats made of flowers floated past us as individuals and groups let off their own lanterns. We waited wondering, if whoever was out there would hear us! Grant us the joy and freedom from the sorrow we have placed into these objects made of paper, metal, and fire. 

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Loi Krathong, is an annual festival celebrated in Thailand, and some neighboring countries, during the 12th month in the traditional Thai lunar calendar. This typically falls in late November according to Western metrics of time. The festival typically lasts about 3 days. Loi means to float, while Krathong is a banana trunk decorated with flowers that is floated down the river. When I asked my Thai friend View what the festival celebrates she told me that rivers are very important to Thai people and that this festival celebrates and honors all that its done for us. In Chiang Mai, Loi Krathong is celebrated along side another festival called Yi Peng where floating lanterns are launched into the air.  The combined spectacle makes for the most beautiful thing I experienced during my travels. 

The first day of the festival our hostel manager Khai took us outside of the city to Mae Jo where a private lantern release happens around the same time as the festival. The event at Mae Jo is often confused as the Yi Peng festival but it's not sponsored by the Thailand Association of Tourism. To get inside costs about $100 dollars but to just watch the lanterns you can snag a seat along the river bank right outside. 

To travel through SE Asia is to travel in a state of perpetual naivety. Information is not something you're given either because they know you'll complain or because they don't have the information themselves. For example, I didn't even realize the event I went to wasn't apart of the Yi Peng festival until I sat down to write this travelogue. We were told by our hostel manager, Khai, that we were going to see the highest concentration of lanterns let off at the same time. We thought early afternoon was a bit early to be leaving for an event that doesn't start until the sun sets but we were stuck in bumper to bumper traffic at 2pm. We stopped by a convenience store to grab some road beers before continuing our journey in one of the many red taxis that dots Chiang Mai's city scape.  

At long last we pulled to a stop along a nondescript road lined with tuk tuk's and tourist buses. We walked about 200 yards from where we parked before stopping. Khai gestured toward a patch of of overgrown grass and weeds and told us this is where we would watch the lanterns.  The area looked like it needed a weed wacking before it was fit to host anyones butt. But Khai saw what we couldn't. He walked straight into the unruly nature and tamed it with his flip flops. Methodically and intentionally Khai carved a path of flattened grass. When the weeds proved no easy challenge he just pulled them out the ground. By the time he was finished we had a nice patch of ground to ourselves. However we would have brought blankets and towels if we had known we'd be sitting on the grass. 

Our area became the most coveted spot and latecomers tried to colonize. But Khai shooed them off, telling them to clear their own ground. With our space secured, we went off and explored.  We walked down a narrow one way road separated by a stream from its twin. There was a restaurant and a convenience store at an intersection about 700 yards from where we initially stopped. Those are normally the only businesses around for miles, however due to the event a micro-economy was set up closer to the temple with stalls selling meat skewers, mango sticky rice, and other delicious treats. Hours past and the sky was illuminated once again though this time not by the sun but by thousands of lanterns. As we drove back to our hostel we could see that the sky was still pregnant- full of dreams. 

The next day we woke up and set about making our very own krathongs to sail down the river. Tired after yesterday celebrations we asked if we could schedule it later in the day but Khai insisted that we start earlier- that the krathongs were more difficult then it seemed. The foreigners scoffed at this idea but sure enough a couple hours deep into the craft we were stumped trying to make the leaf cones. The process started out so easy and then grew with each passing step increasingly more complicated. Some people just gave up and designed their own ships, like the photo in the middle. The table was full of broken banana leafs, stray metal pins, and bright pink and yellow flowers by the time we were done.

 The mental energy to took to make the krathong exhausted me,  It was like origami but instead of paper I was using leaves and flowers. In the photo of all our krathongs mines is the last one on the middle row. Before we left for the parade most of us took a nap.  When we walked the streets later that night during the parade I had a new appreciation for the time and skill that went into the krathongs I saw for sale- both intricate and simple.  

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As we made our way to the Ping river after the parade I began to appreciate the quieter ceremony from the previous day. It was harder to enjoy the festival because there was so much happening at once. Lanterns were falling from the sky, fire crackers pop Pop POPing all around you, bright colors dotting through your peripheral vision, the smell of grilling food, the constant shouting and yelling. Police tried to guide the chaos and protect order but there was nothing to protect. Just people pushing in unison. We stood under a tree along the bank of the Ping river. Lanterns launched from the bridge illuminated the sky while those with too much to carry caught on fire and sank into the water below. Krathongs of various sizes also sailed by illuminated by candles and incense. Further down the river I spotted people fishing out krathongs that had money in them.

Khai was explaining the history when a burned out lantern came crashing down out of the sky calling his krathong to fall out of his hands and roll down the ground. Thankfully it was caught before it reached the water. But that wasn't the only time we had to be careful of firey lanterns dropping out of the sky. After sailing out boats we made our way to the crowded bridge. The wind was not kind today and so lighting lanterns became a treacherous act. Khai pictured above was truly the best hostel manager I had the entire time I traveled through South East Asia. He made sure to create personal connections with everyone who stayed at his hostel. He threw family dinners and planned cultural events and really tried to turn his hostel into a home for anyone who stayed a couple nights. The amazing environment that he created allowed for the relationships of the travelers to really deepen. I'm so happy that the universe brought me north and I got to experience such a beautiful and enriching tradition with these amazing crew of new friends.

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Doi Inthanon Elephant Park

 

An overnight bus dropped me off at the north eastern corner of the city of Chiang Mai. The cool morning air was a stark contrast to the sweltering conditions of Bangkok. One of Chiang Mai's red taxis picked us up and went about dropping us off at our various hostels. Thailand Wow was quiet when I arrived but my friends soon woke up and were discussing tomorrow's activities namely a trip to go see elephants which Rika was specifically excited for. I remembered her talking about how elephants were her favorite animal back in Bangkok. 

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Now I'm not a huge animal person, they are smelly and have their own internal lives and motivations that we can never access, but even I was excited to be face to face with an elephant.  The journey into the mountains took us a couple hours. First a taxi picked us up at our hostel around 8 am. As we left the town behind and the scenery became more rural we began to see signs for all kinds of elephant sanctuaries. We saw people riding elephants who were apart of a different tour company and I was thankful that we had found an ethical sanctuary that did not allow elephant riding. Our second vehicle, a flat bed truck, was used to descend deeper into the mountains after the taxi could take us no further.  The truck dropped us off at a nondescript patch of land that was missing elephants. They told us we had to make the rest of the way on foot and thus began a perilous climb down a steep set of natural stairs cut into the dirt with a piece of bamboo that could barely hold itself up to steady our downward climb. Now I wore flip flops because I knew we'd get muddy and I didn't want to ruin my nice shoes but those shoes were about to cause my downfall because they had no traction to grip the earth. After I made my way down the stairs the only thing between the elephants and I was this makeshift bridge to cross a small but quick moving stream. I prayed to whoever was listening that my camera and I would not get washed away. 

 

Rika with an elephant.

Rika with an elephant.

To prepare us for the elephants we were told to change into bright red traditional clothes so the elephants would recognize us and we were each handed a bag full of sugar cane. You should have seen my face when they told us we had to climb some more before we were to reach the first elephants of the day. If I had known we were going on a nature hike then I would have planned differently. My flip flops barely clung to the slightly wet rocks that lined the route to the elephants. But all of that faded away, when I heard the elephant trumpet echo through the woods. Up above were two elephants. A huge fully grown mama with her adolescent child.

You know mentally that elephants are huge creatures but until one dwarfs you its hard to fully grasp. Even the child looked like it could crush me if it got to excited. Despite their size they were so gentle, delicately plucking the sugar cane out of our hands with their trunks. We had to call out a Thai phrase three times to get their attention. The mother stood still making everyone come to her, but the child happily stomped around trying to get as much of the sugar cane as possible. While they were distracted eating I took the time to touch their skin.  I never thought about how hairy elephants were, but up close you could feel all the tiny hairs that cover their body. The skin was leathery and warm. 

As people started to run out of sugar cane the adolescent started grabbing at our bags. It was time to go but before we headed back down we got elephant kisses. Their trunk was heavier then anticipated as it briefly latched itself onto our faces. 

Afterwards, we made our way back down and met another pair of elephants. This one had an even smaller baby elephant that couldn't have been more then a couple months old. I wanted to pick it up and cuddle it but the animal still weighed a couple hundred pounds. It ran playfully around us even knocking a few people over as it drank water. 

We took a break for lunch and escaped the suns rays under a hut with a thatched roof. I washed my hands vigorously before eating the meal prepared for us. It was simple, some noodles, chicken and veggies and yet there was so much flavor.  Afterwards, I lied on a mat and listened to the sounds of nature. Trees swaying in the wind, the stream bubbling by, elephants trumpeting in the distance. 

We finished the day by giving the elephants a mud bath though I refused because I was pretty sure the elephants pooped in the mud pool. Sure enough not even 5 minutes into the mud bath I spotted the elephants pooping and peeing. Everyone then made their way to the stream to rinse off the elephants and you realize that elephants are extremely ashy animals, their skin taking on a rich grey color when wet.  

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Bangkok II

 

History weighs down social interactions, simple communications become soggy with innuendo. Sometimes you worry more about how you were perceived than how you felt. That's how I often feel navigating social environments back home. However, Bangkok was allowing me to live a more embodied life. Everything and everyone around me was so new. There was no past to rely on for comfort or information. I was one among many backpackers brought together by a common love of exploration and enough capital (social and financial) to travel. We were all the same yet different. We were on equal footing- the real world seemed so far away. 

I was sitting on the cots in the lobby of Nap Park while The Brothers Grimsby played on the large television when I struck up my first conversation with a fellow traveler. His name was Jack from the UK and he was staying in the same dorm as me. After chatting for a bit I asked if he wanted to join me for lunch. I had looked up places to eat in Bangkok and found this amazing restaurant serving noodles that you rarely find on restaurant menus. We walked North away from the commotion and sanctity of the upcoming cremation and made our way down various alleys and side streets that were flooded from the previous days rain bursts. Making friends hasn't been this easy since college. Which made me wonder why making friends has to be difficult at all. Histories both personal and cultural have a way of wedging themselves between us and new experiences/people. 

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Jack and I found the tiny restaurant the side street of a side street nestled around shuttered businesses. Four people were currently sitting inside two military men dressed in full regalia, an older woman fanning herself, and a man sitting on a stool. We were the only non-Thai people in the small restaurant, a strange pair for sure. I tried to mime for a menu but the waiter shook his head and pointed to the wall were items were written in Thai. My friend and I exchanged confused looks and I pulled out my phone to find the soup from the online article. The man nodded and asked how spicy we wanted the soup. I said very spicy despite the fact that it was a furnace outside and the only thing cooling the tiny restaurant was a fan that was pointed in the opposite direction. Ten to fifteen minutes later the sukothai noodle soup, pictured above, was brought to us. The soup contained the hallmarks of a delicious Thai soup was spicy, the flavors were sharp very fresh, and the broth had such a luscious but light taste. The best part the soup only cost me 40 baht which was a little over $1. 

 

Sadly my new friend was ending his experience in Thailand just as I was beginning. I said goodbye to him a couple days later as he made his way to Cambodia. I asked a dude named Keiran to watch my laptop in the lobby and when I returned we started talking. I later met a red headed American named Rika who worked as a boat captain in Alaska. These random interactions built on top each other. Days later, the randomness connected like lego blocks. I was sitting on a rooftop with Keiran, Rika, and others talking about the efficacy of Unions, the politics of Brexit and Trump, the downfalls of ideological purity, and the role of dating apps in modern day romance. We differed in tactics and beliefs we but had interesting, civil, and challenging discussions with each other. 

We hung out for a couple more days before Rika and some other people headed north to visit Thailand's ancient capitals and then eventually go to Chiang Mai for a lantern festival. I had a few more days booked in Bangkok and then I was heading south so I said goodbye. I started to get into the rhythm of backpacking the constant stream of hello's and goodbyes, the origin stories of the people you just met. New people arrived in the city and I found another group to exploring with. We headed to the Chatuchak Market by tuk tuk and wandered among the food stalls, boutique jewlery vendors, and piles of thai silk scarves and other accoutrement.

 

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I kept running into travelers who mentioned going to Chiang Mai for a festival called Loi Krathong and I started to rethink my plans. The goal was to go with the flow and see where SE Asia takes me and I was feeling the wind blowing me north. I reached out to my friends to see which hostel they were staying and at and thankfully it wasn't booked.

With my plans to leave Bangkok set I head out on a walkabout around Old Town to take photos and eat at a few more restaurants before leaving. I was given so many warnings about how horrible Bangkok was but I had come to like the city. It wasn't my favorite city ever but I appreciated the energy, Bangkok's ability to surprise, and the food's expertise in tantalizing the tongue. I needed to educate myself about Thailand.  This city was full of complexity and I was excited to learn more about it. I arrived with this myopic understanding of its cuisine and culture and this trip was opening my eyes. 

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Bangkok

 

Cities like people develop reputations. Whether they are deserved or not they spread from mouth to mouth influencing how people receive them before they even experience it. Bangkok, unfortunately, has a bad reputation among travelers and backpackers. The first time I heard someone bad mouth Bangkok I was in Seoul and someone was telling me about how smelly and dirty the city was, how they got ripped off, how... I heard the refrain so many times during my travel that when the plane landed in Suvarnabhumi I wasn't sure what to expect.  I was worried about going to Thailand. It was the first truly foreign place that I was going and I was afraid. 

Physical safety, food cleanliness, and infrastructure all fears because we label Thailand a 3rd World country. I attached deficiency to that, without any thought to where that framework for thinking about the world came from. I learned while writing this that The Three Worlds model was developed to classify Cold War Allegiances and the 3rd world were countries that were not allied to either side. How that term came to represent backward, less than, uncivilized is a product of racism and imperialsim. And I'm upset with myself for falling into that kind of colonial ideology.  Traveling through Thailand was really going to challenge my assumptions and I was ready for it. 

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 When I got off the plane I marveled at how clean and white the airport was. It was like the entire facility had just opened and I was the first passenger.  I picked up my luggage and navigated my way to the underground rail system. They use actual tokens which I thought was very retro. I slipped my token into the stall and made my way downstairs to the rails. I settled down in my seat and the train began its journey across the city. A mix of families, tourists, and strangers packed the car. The train left the underground tunnel and was briefly filled with the bright light of the midday sun. My first sight of Bangkok was lots of green leaves on trees with buildings towering in the distance. I saw buildings, some dilapidated others pristine. I saw grass waving at the sky and streets  lined with empty cars. As we got closer to the heart of the city the buildings grew taller and the land more metropolitan. What I saw was a city like any other. The marked differences were the ornate red and gold shrines and the beautiful curvature of the Thai language written across billboards. Otherwise, I could have been anywhere. I was filled with a sense of familiarity when I was anticipating something foreign. The true power of dehumanization is its ability to mark the familiar foreign. 

 My stop was coming up and since I arrived in Thailand, I was in cool embrace of air conditioning. Once I stepped onto the platform the humidity and heat enveloped me all at once. I almost ran back to safety but the doors closed and the train continued on its journey. I went to the taxi stand and hopped in the first car. One of Bangkok's reputations was revealed to be true- the traffic is abhorrent. Bumper to bumper for nearly the entire drive. Sometimes the street lights would go from red to green to red again and the car wouldn't move. 

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My hostel Nap Park was located in Old Town and was a few blocks away from Khao San road. The entrance was recessed creating a narrow pathway filled with couches and a mini stovetop before the main doors. Shoes and flip flops lined the floor and shelf in front of the glass sliding doors that took you inside. Bags were strewn around the interior along with the bodies of weary travelers. I checked in and took a refreshing shower. It was to hot to chill in the sleeping area- the AC is turned off in the dorms during the day to save power. The lobby was the only air conditioned place but I wasn't in the mood to socialize nor did I know how. This was a new environment that I only briefly experienced in South Korea. I forgot to pick up soap and sunscreen before I left London so I took this time to eat and run some errands.

As I explored the various stores and shops I had my first bit of culture shock. Almost every product for sale contained ingredients to bleach your skin, even the sunscreen. As a fierce protector of my melanin i scrutinized every option until I found some that wouldn't erase me. I left one store and walked  halfway down the block before I heard someone making a commotion behind me. When I turned the source was a middle aged Thai women. She came up to me holding a 500 baht note worth about $15. She pointed to the ground and handed it to me before walking away. I reached into my pocket and low and behold I had accidentally dropped this note while paying for my goods. I walked back to the hostel thinking the city I was warned about was not the city I was currently experiencing. 

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One big reason for this is that the city, no the country was ending its period of mourning. Before arrival, I asked one of my Thai friends about things to do in Bangkok and she said that I was coming to Bangkok at a tricky time, the beloved King Rama IX was set to be cremated ending a year-long period of mourning. The normally bright and vibrant city was muted for this ceremony. I got to see a Bangkok that most tourists don't normally see. A reserved and more toned down city. Khao San road known for its debauchery was not allowed to sell alcohol for the entire week; as well all concerts and events were cancelled and postponed. As an outsider, seeing this amount of deference to a head of state was really surprising. I saw grandmothers crying in the street, people with sorrow in their eyes. So it was beautiful and humbling to see how much people truly cared about King Rama IX and all that he did for his country. I spent some time reading the public murals that detailed his life accomplishments.

 Many of the tourists who came to Thailand do no research about whats going on, which created tension between them and the community. So while I took this time to talk to the people who worked at Nap Park about what this time means and how to best be respectful many other white and male back packers would loudly complain about how quiet the city was. They came to party they didn't come for this ceremony. They said their vacation was ruined- as if the whole country was supposed to operate on their schedule. The worst offense was this American girl loudly proclaiming that she didn't understand why the city was still in mourning if King Rama IX had died a year prior. I was shocked that someone could be so callous cause there was a Thai woman sitting next to us as well this person was Mexican American so you'd think she would be more sensitive to other cultures. I apologized to my friend and she said she's used to Americans being rude or ignorant. 

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In my short time in Bangkok I was beginning to see the strong ways in which colonialism influences travel to this day. The ways in which Bangkok operates just like any other capital city but we come to fear it because of its location or reputation. People are just trying to live their daily life just at different rhythms with different intentions. Thats why a lot of the photos I choose look inconspicuous. They were taken in Bangkok and only existed in the time before my camera shutter closed but they could also be any city full of cabs or buildings in  need of electricity. We focus on what makes us different rather then everything that connects us.  

Thats's what these rifts do they blind us to the truth that we are similar. The question i started to ask myself was, "how does one travel ethically?"  I wasn't sure of the answer but I was excited for what I would learn along the way.

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Divanun Guide/ London

 

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


Historical

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  • Big Ben

    • It was covered in scaffolding when I was there so I never visited but I did see it while on a bus.

  • Tower Bridge

    • Really gorgeous bridge great spot to take photos

  • Buckingham Palace

  • St Dunstan's in the East

    • this really cool dilapadated church which is great for photoshoots


Cultural

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  • Carnival

    • An annual summer celebration towards the end of August. One of the most crowded events I've ever been to. It honestly stressed me out and was very difficult to leave.

  • Tate Modern

    • An amazing museum you need to go

  • RIflemaker

    • a really cool museum in an old rifle making shop

  • Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew

    • If you love botanical gardens like me then this place is a must.

  • Guest Projects

    • a really cool art space that is right off a cute canal

  • Barbican Centre

    • Beautiful brutalist architecture that enclose a cafe, art space, and gorgeous views

  • Black Cultural Archives

    • A National Heritage Center dedicated to telling the stories of African and Caribbean People in Britain


Food

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East London

  • Pivaz

    • A cute little restaurant on Chatsworth Road where I used to live. Great meditterean food for a bomb price

  • Martello Hall

    • PIzza shop right next to London Fields that has a really good brunch special

  • Netil360

    • Rooftop bar with great city views and a good atmosphere

  • The Barge House

    • Brunch spot known for their bread baskets, very delicious

  • Waterhouse

    • Tiny spot on a canal that has amazing sandwiches. Try the fried chicken or mushroom burger.

  • Dishoom Shoreditch

    • really good indian

  • Andina London

    • very good spot for juices or South American themed cocktails

  • PIzza East

    • really delicious pizza spot

  • The Boundary Project

    • rooftop restaurant that might require a reservation. Best time to go is on Sunday night when they have half priced shell fish!

  • Gunpowder

    • Indian

  • Som Saa

    • Thai spot

  • Clapton Craft

    • nice spot to pick up craft beers

  • Damascus Bite

    • amazing middle eastern place in Brick Lane

  • The Boundary Project

    • A chic rooftop restaurant and bar that has great specials on Sundays

  • Pepper & Spice

    • Jamaican food in Dalston

 

West London

  • Shackfuyu

    • Asian fusion place get the sampler platter so you can try everything this place has to offer

  • Bun House

    • get your fill of dumplings at this spot

  • Crosstown Doughnuts & Coffee

    • delicious confectionary goods

South London

  • Mango Indian

    • one of my fav Indian spots in the city

  • Fish, Wings, and Tings

    • get the appetizers which are fried codfish or peas and a cocktail and you have yourself a good afternoon

  • Healthy Eaters

    • my favorite spot to get some goat curry and a beef patty

  • Ghost Whale

    • nice spot to pick up some craft beers

  • Persepolis

    • Vegetarian and Vegan MIddle Eastern food

  • Ganapati

    • the location of some amazing swordfish curry and other south Indian fare

  • Pedler

    • a nice brunch spot

  • Morley’s

    • This fast food chicken shop is only on the south side of the Thames but it’s worth a trip. The best chicken shop chain in London.


Miscellaneous

  • Transportation

    • The Public Transportation in London is amazing. The buses are the best fleet ever, they take you all around the city. The trains have numerous stations and plenty of transfer points which make navigating the city a breeze.

  • Nightlife

    • Dalston Superstore

      • a great queer club, had so many good nights dancing here

    • Eagle London

      • hosts a party every sunday called Horse Meat Disco

    • Pxssy Palace

      • an amazing queer and femme of color centered dance party that happens every couple of weeks

    • BBZ

      • another queer and poc centered art and party space that hosts amazing events

    • 5Miles

      • a cool event space in Tottenham that my friends threw parties at often

 

  • Facebook Groups

    • Hackney Wick Spaces

      • How I searched for housing in East London

    • London Fashion Creatives

      • a facebook event where artists and creatives and models can come together and collbaborate

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. 

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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. 

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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. 

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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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Archive of Softness III

 

Black femme's and genderqueer folx will hype you up the hardest period. Especially when its one of our own.  Our senses are acute, they have to be for us to survive. So we recognize the determination, passion, and shine of one another when other people refuse to. So for me, London was paradise because I was surrounded by black queer femmes. On the weekends I'd go out to parties like Pxssy Palace and when you're on the dance floor the entire space is so affirming because you see yourself reflected all around you. 

 I want to create connections when you look at my photos, I want them to build temporary shelters for you. Traveling around the world has only deepened my need to continue capturing the beauty and diversity of black femme and genderqueer people. So much of travel especially as a black queer femme is about isolation- being the only one. So there's something special about capturing the beauty of people like me. Wherever we go we flourish and I love traveling around the world and capturing that.

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The first person I shot in London was Zoe. We met because I almost lived in their artist group house. When I went to visit for a walk through I realized I knew one of the other housemates from DC. Despite not moving in I developed a friendship with the people in the house and I miss all the times spent chilling in their living room.

Our photo shoot took place in the Woodbury Wetlands in East London which has two reservoirs and is a great location for a run. You never feel entirely separate from the housing estates and steel towers hallmarks of London. They jut out high over the horizon always reminding you where you are. I didn't get to see much nature while I was in London. Except for some time in a few parks. My favorite being London Fields. 

 

The second London addition to my Archive of Softness was an American friend and artist living in London doing furniture design. We met through a very good mutual friend that I went to college with. It was really fun getting to reconnect in London. 

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Our photo shoot was in Victoria Park. When I arrived kids were playing football, runners we're out for their evening rounds, the sun, however, was not as active. The light was flat and tepid wind swept across the field carrying with it the early signs of fall. As always photographing with natural light its like a game your playing with the sun. You have to devise a way to make it work with whatever the sun gives you. And the sun forever on its own schedule would peak its head out whenever it felt like. But I came through and  captured my two favorite shots of the day when the sun decided to grace us with her presence. 

See other photos from this series

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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. 

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.


Historical

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  • 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

Cultural

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  • 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

Food

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  • 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.

Miscellaneous

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  • 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? 

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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.  

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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.

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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. 

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. 

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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.  

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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. 

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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"

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.

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.

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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.

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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.

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.

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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. 

 

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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