New Camera . . Yeah!!! But it's not what you think . . . Boohoo!

I'm on the lookout for a new camera but before you start blurting out those beautiful words (Canon 7D, 5D Mark II or even G11) I have to clarify that it's for my mother in law. She does her fair share of traveling and goes on field trips around the country with her amigas so we thought she should have a way to record the stuff.

Needless to say, it doesn't need to shoot raw, it doesn't need high ISO capability, it doesn't even need manual control (as a matter of fact, if you could just have one button that would be great). Probably the only real requirement is a great big honking LCD screen so she can show the pics right after taking them . . . . (come on, we all do that). Still thinking about what model to get her.

Then it got me thinking, I should probably replace the one we lost recently, a canon Ixus 840IS for those times when you're out with friends and don't feel like lugging your ball and chain around with you (that's my camera gear. . . not . . .). I'd love the Canon G11 but it's not within my recently imposed restricted budget program so I have to look for something more affordable. Will let you know the outcome of the great Point and Shoot hunt.

And before you knock point and shoot cameras, above and below are pics I took with my trusty old Canon Powershot S40.

The Rope

The procession was about to start, two ropes would be unfurled in front of the carosa which would bear the Black Nazarene. Devotees would then pull the image from Quirino Grandstand back to Quiapo Church.

Sounds simple enough except for the fact that devotees believe the Black Nazarene can grant those with true devotion their wishes and in a country where the majority of the people live in poverty that is a major draw. As a matter of fact, that is probably the reason why it is the biggest religious festival (in terms of people attending) in the country. During the procession people will do anything to touch the statue and failing that, they will go for the rope in order to serve the image and hopefully still get their wishes granted.

Luckily, I was allowed in the cordoned off area just before image was to take its trip to Quiapo. The crowds however could no longer be contained and soon, the carosa was surrounded by the hordes of devotees. It almost seemed like a medieval siege with the different chapters bear their standard / flags to advertise their devotion. Soon, the rope was being passed to the crowd and the demeanor changed from organized nervousness to chaos. The crowd was so tightly packed now that whenever a wave pushed the crowd two or three feet in any direction, the people would not fall or trip, they would just lean over and push back.

When the rope neared my area I could see the fanatical look on people's faces, some looking so desperate as if touching the rope would bring them back from the brink of death. I really couldn't understand it and yet, as the fate would have it, the rope came closer and closer to me. In the end, it turned up right in front of my camera and all of a sudden I decided I had to touch the rope no matter what. I put my camera, which had been glued to my face until then, down and started pushing and shoving. I didn't care how many people I had to go through I had to touch that rope and after a few hefty pushes here and there I reached out and touched it. Not sure what I was expecting but after I let go I just stood there. As the rope stretched out an opening for one person seemed to open up right in front of me giving me a chance to actually join the procession instead of just rolling the rope out but as I pondered whether I should join, in that split second of hesitation, 4 people squeezed into that spot and soon the procession started moving forwards.

I took another few pictures close up and then moved back to the roof to join the other photographers.

I'm glad I went down despite all the warnings of being crushed alive, because that was going to be the only time I would be able to get that close to the rope or the image from then on. All in all close to 2 million people joined the procession and the less than 5 km route from Quirino Grandstand to Quiapo Church took close to 8 hours to finish.

Location, location, location

I was on the roof of the Quirino Grandstand ready to take pictures of the Black Nazarene's departure for Quiapo Church. Apparently the rooftop is the place to be since you can capture the crowds and get a real feel for size of this event. But as more and more photographers started showing up (some with better lenses than me) it became apparent that I would at best get "just another" picture of this event.

So when a fellow photographer said that it usually takes the procession 30 minutes to clear the grandstand I made a drastic decision. I decided to go down and join the crowds and get close up pictures as the procession left.

As I was on ground level looking up at the photographers on the roof I kept saying "Yes, I'm the only one here taking pictures from this vantage point". That was until the mob started telling me "Pare, masisira yan" - (Friend, that's going to break) pointing at my camera. I told them that it was an old camera and thank you for the friendly advice.

Soon after as the crush of the crowd became more intense, they said in a less friendly voice "Pare, makakasakit ka niyan" - (Friend, you're going to hurt people) pointing at my shoes. You see, devotees of the Black Nazarene join the procession barefoot so my hiking boots were going to inflict major damage . So in the spirit of the procession, I took of my shoes to the delight of my new found friend.

Gear Choice for Quiapo Festival

Covering the country's largest religious procession had it's own challenges. One of my objectives for this project was to be in the crowd, to take pictures of people struggling to get close to the statue of Jesus of Nazareth. I had seen pictures of festival beforehand and knew I would be in a crush of people. I've also heard of people fainting, getting injured and even dying during the procession so I knew I had to have the proper gear with me. My trusty Lowepro Pro Mag 2 would not do, it being a sling / shoulder bag presented me with the real possibility of getting hung up. I could see the headlines now "Photographer, strangled by his own camera bag".

So I decided to take my old Toploader 75Aw but attached to a chest rig. This way my gear was always in front of me with no sticky fingers probing the contents. An added benefit which I would find out later was that it served as a buffer between me and the next guy when the pushing started, giving my camera a safe place to be (basically on top of it).

I wasn't too worried about the camera itself. A Canon 30D which has more than depreciated itself over and over again, I was secretly hoping it would fall apart and give me a reason to upgrade. And I had no illusions of changing lenses in the middle of the crowd, I'd stick to one when things started getting dicey.

So I brought my 10-20mm, 100-300mm and my general 17-70mm lens (all Sigma lenses). I generally want all three lenses with me wherever I go. The toploader fit my long lens and a smaller lens in the outer pocket. My camera with the other lens would be in my hands at all times.

Other preparations included making sure you didn't have anything you didn't want to lose in your pockets, it was a religious festival but as they say "Chance favors the prepared".

1st Photoproject of the year

And what a project it was. I've been meaning to photograph the annual Quiapo Festival for 3 years now but I've either totally forgotten about it or have been intimidated by the crowds. So when a friend told me he could help out with access to the event I jumped at the chance.

For those that don't know, January 9 is the Feast of the Black Nazarene in a district of Manila known as Quiapo. The district is in an old part of town, cramped and chaotic and that is on a normal day. On January 9 though it turns into the location of the country's largest religious procession in which 1.5 to 2 million people participate in. I had initially thought of just walking to the site and taking photos but this year I had an ace up my sleeve . . .


Tks to PH for the access.

Happy New Year Everyone. . . .

First of all, a very happy New Year to everyone out there and one of my resolutions for this year was to cut the red tape and so here's my very first announcement.

Ever since my daughter came along, my photography has gone down the drain along with my blog posts. All of a sudden my portfolio had an increasing share of baby photos, my solo travels began getting cancelled and even my normal SOP of staying behind after a trip with the wife to go around and take photos has been disallowed. Needless to say this has reflected on my blogposts (or lack thereof).

SO, since my baby has been the reason for these issues, I have tasked her with blogging for me. Here is her first entry "df;klhafsdevj;klhads;rhf;lkha;dshf".

Kidding aside though, I can't wait for her to be just a little bit bigger so I can take her places like India, Nepal or Chiang Mai. I can't wait to take her to have her first white Christmas with her Auntie Case and Uncle Sam in Rhode Island. I can't wait to take her to Siem Reap to give her "Temple Overload" like her mom and I experienced when we got there.

Until then however I realized that I didn't have to travel to the ends of the Earth to bring you guys great shots, I've lined up some projects in my own backyard that should bring in amazing images along with the few overseas projects that I've lined up.

So here's to a Happy New Year to everyone and to keeping faithful to your New Year's Resolutions, no matter what they are.

Singapore

Been in Singapore quite a few times but never took this picture before which is strange because I had 2 to 3 other guys taking the same picture at the same time. Oh well, with a place as small as Singapore I guess it's been photographed over and over again.

Still a nice pic though.

Looking around Heaven - Temple of Heaven, Beijing, China

Help Out: Capture the Light Charity Auction

Just a quick note on the flooding that recently occurred in Metro Manila. For those folks wanting to help out, a group of pro-active photographers, visual artists, etc. have come up with the Capture the Light Project. A Project has inexplicably merged together photography and relief operations for the victims of the flooding of typhoon Ondoy (my personal typhoon story coming soon).

One of the ways you can help is in the charity auction where prints, lessons, tutorials and even free studio time are being auctioned off. I think it's a great way to help (at least you get something in return) and help people out at the same time, all proceeds go to the charity mentioned under each item. Visit the site now www.capturethelightproject.com.

. . . . .but please don't bid on the print I'm after . . . .

Family Beach Pictures

Took my kid to the beach last weekend. It was her first time to see the "big water" and that got me thinking about how much digital photos have changed the landscape of family snapshots. I can literally count on my fingers the number of surviving beach pictures I have of me and my family but my kid is going to have gigabytes of hard drive pics to chose from. Wonder if she'll still think of them as treasures like I think of my beach pics.

My Gear

Recently went to GDGT.com which allows you to list your gadgets. It then provides news, updates and inputs from other users who have the same gadgets. So for the first time I will admit, my cameras are old. Looking at the Canon 7D though (fingers crossed).

I have a Canon 350D (as my back-up), a Canon 30D as my main camera, an Ixus 860IS for snapshots and a Leica SL2 for nostalgic reasons (my dad's old camera, he was a bit of a gadget freak too).

Chek out the site.

Cheap Thrills . . . .

Some of the most rewarding things while I travel include finding cheap thrills. In Hong Kong this means taking the Star Ferry across the harbor but in India this means taking a tuktuk. Here's the best way to go about it in Udaipur. Go to the Mandi Market in the middle of town, get yourself totally lost, just keep going down streets and narrow alleys. When you're tired of walking, hail down a tuktuk and ask him to bring you to your next destination. You'll love the sights that'll go past you and you'll be amazed where this tuktuk can fit into. Sometimes it's a narrow alleyway, other times it's just the oncoming traffic, but don't close your eyes, you might miss something exciting going past you.

Poker's not played here

Despite the surge in popularity of Texas hold'em and other varieties of Poker, in the merchant town of Bukhara they play a more ancient game. Still, all the characteristics are there, playing close to the chest and even maintaining their "poker face". Who knew dominoes could be such an intense game.

It's Dark!

For those who haven't noticed, the www.sleepingonthebus.com site has gone from Jedi White (actually they were more beige or brown) to Dark Side Black. No, I have not totally converted. What I am doing is trying to tie in my blog with my portfolio on www.pathfinderphotography.com.

Been rethinking both sites to make them more relevant so expect a few more things to change. . . . "More regular postings would help" I hear you say. Yes, yes, those will come too. Apologies again for the erratic postings.

Featured Gallery - Moscow / Russians

Just uploaded a pair of new galleries on my website entitled "Moscow" and "Russians" please check it out here - www.pathfinderphotography.com.

War Memorials and Wedding Pictures

Okay, I can understand having your wedding picture taken at some of the more beautiful sites of your city, say Old Manila in our case but a war memorial. I've seen this happen in several former Soviet states, where couples dressed in tails and wedding gowns go to the tomb of the unknown soldier and have their pictures taken. Must be a throw back to WWII when defending the motherland was the honorable thing to do . . . . . but still, as a backdrop to your wedding picture? This picture was taken in Kyrgyzstan at the tomb of the unknown soldier. Note it wasn't just the husband and wife but the whole entourage.
Of course the other aspect of this tradition I fully understand. As they drive from one site to the other, vodka flows freely and everyone is understandably happy.

Cemetery

Found in the old Key West Cemetery.

Website update

Sorry for these short entries but just wanted to share some photos on my professional website - www.pathfinderphotography.com. Updates to it are the two featured galleries. I've removed events in that websites as a category as I've sworn off those professionally, nothing but travel and architecture from now on.

Sharing blogs: Strobist.com

If you don't already, you have to follow this blog. It's primarily about lighting but his latest blog post is about photographing people on the street (something that still scares me to this day). Enjoy it here.

La Defence

Not sure how my wife and I ended up in this part of Paris but it really blew me away. I think we tend to think of Paris nice tree lined roads, cozy bistros, beautiful churches and museums. We forget that is has a very modern business district and even in its modernity it retains it's agelessness. Look at this building, the photo was taken in 1998 (11 years ago) but I bet if I go back there now I'd still think of it as something in tune with today.

Sky Garden

I remember the time when they first started building SM City North Edsa, the very first "mall", in the Philippines. I said to myself "why build it here, no one is every going to go here, it's in the middle of nowhere!".

X number of years later and 33 SM malls afterwards and SM City North is still one of the strongest malls in the country, and this is why. They continue to renovate their malls, the latest addition to SM North is the Sky Garden, thought I'd share a few pics.

We always complain that there aren't any parks in the Philipines, but the truth is, it's too darn hot to hang out in a park in the middle of the day. So malls become our parks.

On the road - Sagada

And here is proof that sometimes it is about the journey and not the destination. After traveling several hours in the early morning darkness, my wife and I decided to pull over to stretch our legs. If there was still any doubt whether we had reached the mountain province, the following vista assured us.

Paranoia

I ran across this picture in my library, it was taken in Moscow. The picure itself isn't that interesting but the story behind it is a bit. The yellow building behind the monument is the headquarters of Russia's FSB (Federal Security Services of the Russian Federation) basically the successor to the KGB, NKVD and the soviet-era Cheka.

Although the I found the building via a guide book, which means it's basically a tourist destination, there was just something very unnerving about lugging my camera gear to the front of the building and snapping away at it. I half expected an unmarked van to pull up beside me with burly men in pulling me inside and presto, no more sleepingonthebus (maybe kidnappedinavan might be born). In any case, I decided to cross the street and take a picture of the memorial to the victims of the different agencies. At least they recognize the wrong doings of the previous institutions, but it still doesn't lessen the paranoia.

Exploring Batanes

Okay, there are only a few places in the Philippines that you can go to that seem remote. The northern most islands of Batanes is one of those places. We used to hear sketchy stories of hardy travellers going off to the storm beaten islands only to be stranded for a week since the commercial pilots refused to land because of the adverse weather conditions.

Shockingly, when we arrived we were greeted with sunshine, beautiful grassy fields, smiling people and just beautiful weather. Our hotel manager couldn't even remember the last time they were hit by a storm and she says flights run like clockwork now. Oh well, you can't have it all.

New York, New York

I love black and white film, it makes everything look so old and classic. Take the above pic for instance, it looks like NY in the 70's but it was in fact taken in 2001. Must be the grainy nature of B&W film, love it.

Mount Mayon

When I arrived in Legapsi City in the province of Bicol I walked from the plane to the terminal, as you have to in most provincial airports. I looked back and saw Mount Mayon and took the above shot for the heck of it. Good thing I did, for the next 2 days that I was going around the city I would not get another clear picture of the volcano. It turns out it is constantly covered with clouds. Photography lesson - take the shot, you never know what the conditions will be like the next time.

Crazy Layover

Now I've had some crazy layovers in the past, one involving a missed flight and a possible extra 2 days stay in China but one of the best ones was on my trip from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap. Usually one takes a boat from the capital to Siem Reap but since it was a little into the dry season, a good part of the trip was on the bus first.

When we got off the bus at the "ferry" terminal I noticed that we had been dropped off at a village next to the river. With no announcements or anything, the bags were unloaded and us bewildered, mostly foreign, passengers watched as the bus left.

The locals, who were starting to gather assured us though a ferry would be on the way soon. So in the meantime we made ourselves as comfortable as possible and soon the game of people watching began. Here's my favorite local who decided to come on a bike to see what the fuss was about.

The King of the Philippine Roads

All this talk about nationalism and Philippine Culture made me want to post something about our Jeepneys.  Love them or hate them, our country would come to a standstill if we didn't have these little handmade marvels.

Every now and then I find myself in one of these and I have to say I love it.  People sit side by side facing the other row of passengers.  At rush hour we all get packed in like sardines and yet still manage to zone out and maintain our "private"space.  We pass our fares to each other until it reaches the driver and the people closest to the rear entrance help old folks, women carrying heavy loads or children on board.  

Aesthetically speaking the colorful exterior is sometimes matched inside but the old stickers espousing "Basta Driver Sweet Lover" and "God Knows Judas not Pay" are few and far between.  Gone now also are the blaring low grade speakers that pump out the latest street tune maybe because of a city ordinance.  If you are lucky though you can hear one or two plying your route.  I usually wait to see if I can catch the noisiest one heading my way.  I flag it down and enter it, and if I'm lucky and it's night time, that usually means you can ride along to the music covered in a red or purple glow emitted by that one bulb right in the middle of the roof.  "On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair . . . ."

In search of the Batangas Blade

I recently went on what I can only describe as one of my favorite type of trip, the road trip. Although this was hardly an epic road trip (it was just for the day) it was still very special. My friend and I recently had a nationalistic debate about the Philippines and it ended up with us wanting to buy something that was very Filipino. Although we both agreed that the Jeepney is the king of all Philippine icons (ie show a picture of a jeepney to anyone and provided they are slightly knowledgeable about the world, they'll know it's from the Philippines) we had no compulsion to go out and buy one of these handmade marvels.

Nope, our trip led us to the beautiful province of Batangas, specifically the town of Taal, and more specifically still, Barangay Balisong.

Yes, we were on a quest to buy ourselves the infamous Balisong, otherwise known as a fan knife. If you ask me, the Balisong has gotten a bad rap. Before Asian gangs started using them, before Hollywood glorified them, the lowly Balisong was a utility knife used by the provincial folk of Batangas. The ingenious design, which allowed the quick deployment of the blade with one hand, something that undoubtedly would come in handy in many utilitarian instances, doomed it to become a deadly weapon making it now illegal in Australia, the UK, several US States and funnily enough, the sale of the classic Bente Nueve (29 cm) knife is also banned in the Philippines. Banned everywhere except in Barangay Balisong in the town of Taal is seemed.

When we got there to track down one of the more reputable knife making families, the Holgado family, we were in for a major let-down. It turns out they had stopped making the knife for over ten years now. To make matters worse, no one made quality balisongs in Barangay Balisong anymore which to me seemed like a crime against the Philippine culture. If the Nepalese have their kukri, then we should have our Balisongs. As we talked further with old man Holgado he said there were a few Balisong makers he can refer us to if we wanted (and yes, we wanted) but before we left he showed us what he was making now, budding / gardening knives. We could not resist, we bought a pair for ourselves before we set off to get our Balisong. It seemed kind of poetic, the old man who made a living making deadly Balisongs has decided to turn to gardening knives.

In the end we were able to buy our knives but to tell you the truth it was bitter sweet. There are not many things the Philippines is known for and it's a shame that something like the Balisong is now doomed to be fade away.

Japan Underground

When we arrived in Kyoto, after struggling to find a hotel (yes, we were young and foolhardy and had not booked one in advance), it was time for dinner. We had printed out the addresses of some highly recommended restos but speaking with our English language challenged doorman he more or less said "Why bother going there, there are lots of good restaurants at the train station basement".

Slightly worried about dining underground we decided to check it out. We should have known better than to worry, the place was great. Not only did they have restaurants, they had specialty restaurants, one servings different kinds of noodles, another serving all different kinds of tonkatsu dishes (yup, you heard me right).

So next time you find yourself in Kyoto, don't wander too far for that "special" restaurant, just go to the train station, they serve great Japanese food . . . . . or do they just call it food in Japan?

Chocolate Hills

For most Filipinos, the Chocolate Hills of Bohol are nothing new. Everyone must have seen posters of these mysterious naturally occurring hills at some point in their lives so I wasn't expecting much when I finally got to see them for myself.

I climbed out to the lookout point and was floored. First of all, these hills were pretty high, in the picture you can see them dwarf coconut trees that can grow to two storey and even more amazing were the quantity of the hills. They literally went on until the horizon.

It has not been determined how they came about but the name chocolate hills, sadly, came about because they turn chocolate brown during summer. Personally, I like the story of how they are really the tears of a heartbroken giant.

Anyone going to Bohol I highly recommend the slightly more than half day city tours, it's one of the best in the country.

Time Warp Europe

Here are a few pics from my first foreign trip with my most favorite girl friend ever (also known as my wife now). I didn't have a digital camera back then but I did have a film camera with black and white film in it. I love looking at these pictures, sure they aren't the greatest (look at how Notre Dame's top is clipped but the scratches and the monotone make it look so old, (yes I know, these are really old buildings but you know what I mean). Then again, this was 11 years ago in 1998, oh how time flies.

And to finish off, there's nothing like having your picture taken in front of the Gates of Hell in b and white. I'm still pretty scrawny in the pic and note the loose coat and hiking boots. This was before I learned the art of chic traveling . . . . the wife on the other hand, stunning as usual.

Into the Torugart Pass Part III

So there I was, heading across the border from China to Kyrgyzstan through the snowy and desolate Torugart Pass. On hand, I had my entry visa papers with a slight typo on it so I was getting a bit nervous. As is, I get nervous standing in front of any immigration officer even with all my papers in order but usually if there are problems the worst that can happen is you get chucked on a plane the way you came. Not sure what they'd do with me at this remote border crossing.

We stopped at a military checkpoint just for a cursory check of the passports and a headcount of the people on board. As I was sitting in the front passengers seat of the mini bus, I had to open the door and hand over the passport to the soldier. Remnants of the soviet system still remain in Kyrgyzstan, the soldier had Eastern European Camouflage, a fur hat with a red star in the middle and of course an AK 47 Spetznas version nonchalantly slung over his shoulder with the barrel unnervingly pointed at my belly. He flipped through the passports, looked at our faces and let us go through.

After a couple of minutes we finally get to the immigration "office" which consisted of a bare concrete room separated into two sections by a flimsy divider and a phone booth sized heated kiosk in the middle where another soldier started checking our passports. His kiosk was heated because the rest of the room was not and so we lined up in silence in a room as cold as the mountain scape outside.

I was the last in line which didn't help me with my nerves at all. I kept thinking about what I would say, how I would convince him the typo was just that, a typo, where I would run to should everything go horribly wrong and how I would live off the land.

When my turn came, I handed my passport and papers over. The officer was similarly dressed to the one who came close to poking me with his AK 47 at the checkpoint. Red star in his fur cap, full on camo uniform and his AK was propped up against the wall of his cozy kiosk.

I watched intently as he scanned the visa papers, my passport, my face, back to the visa papers, back to my passport and then horrors, back to the visa papers. He looked at something intensely and then leaned forward towards me pointing at my passport. "Oh crap, here it goes" I thought to myself. I nearly blurted out "It's all a typo, that's all, please let me into your beautiful country, I don't want to go back to China" but then I noticed he was pointing at my date of birth. I looked over to him and he smiled and pointed at himself. It turns out we have the same birthday. With a sigh of relief, I took off my glove and shook the man's hand.

Needless to say, this was the most bizarre border crossing I've had. Even without the drama of my papers, meeting the most cheerful immigration officer in China, driving through desert and then snow, getting caught taking pictures at the border (on both sides) and getting checked at military checkpoints, it was just too good to be true. It sure beats handing over your passport at the airport and five minutes later picking up your bags and jumping in a taxi.

Into the Torugart Pass Part II

To continue my "best ever border crossing" story, while still on the Chinese side of the border, we got our bus to pull over for some . . . . . bladder relief and to take a few pictures which on hindsight we were told not to do. The fact that we were on the Chinese border should have made that clear but then again, when nature calls, you have to answer.

The environment was very barren, a kind of a rocky desert type of landscape but that would soon change dramatically. Before we got back on the bus, I took a picture of a bus overtaking us (the one in my previous entry) only to belatedly notice that sitting in the front was a Chinese People's Liberation Army officer looking at me through my lens. Needless to say his bus stopped, a few harsh words were spoken and we were all herded back into the bus to continue our journey.

Soon, the dreary landscape made staying awake too hard and I found myself sleeping on the bus (wow, finally got to use that). Before falling asleep I remember feeling the sensation that we were going up.

Before long I woke up at the border. We needed to change to our Kirghiz bus. As I stepped out of the bus I stepped onto snow. The difference couldn't be more dramatic. I bundled myself up in my cold weather gear, hauled my backs over my shoulder and kind of slipped and shimmied over to our Kirghiz bus.

Luckily I wasn't totally stunned and was able to ask my travel mate to take a picture of me at the border, again something that may not have been too wise. True enough, right after the shutter was clicked, the border guard, completely dressed in battle dress uniform - camouflage with an AK47 slung around his shoulder asked to see the picture. I obliged and he said it was okay, whew. I guess I didn't get the secret minefields or the under ground missile silos in frame. Strangely enough, other travelers that posed where I had were forbidden to have the picture taken, I can only guess that I didn't actually step on the monument while they did but what the heck, I wasn't about to ask.

We bundled into the mini bus that had waited for us and headed off to the Kirghiz immigration post. This is where I started sweating a bit, I heard the horror stories of travelers being refused entry because of a technicality which meant they had to find their own way back down to the Chinese side. Also, I noticed that the documentation I had on hand for my Kirghiz entry visa had a tiny spelling error so despite the cold and snow, I was getting a little hot under the collar.

Picture notes: The two pictures in this entry were taken just a couple of hours apart, stunning contrast.

Into the Torugart Pass Part 1

I was going to do an entry on funny, weird, exciting immigration adventures, you know, the kind you have when you get into a new country, line up and everything goes eerily weird. For most of us, this doesn't happen anymore, what with travel being so easy and airports and immigration staff used to all kinds of scenarios. But what happens when your first call of port isn't an airport? As a matter of fact, when was the last time any of us ever crossed a border on land (and no, crossing countries within the EU does not count).

Here's a weird and wonderful tale of my border crossing into Kyrgyzstan from China. It's a bit lengthy (which is why it's broken into parts) but bear with me, it's both entertaining, slightly Twilight Zone and could only happen to me.

My trip across the Silk Road ended it's China leg in the city of Kashgar, the border town and in the past known to be a bit of a wild west. This is where the "Great Game" between British and Soviets played out complete with all the trappings of an Ian Flemming novel. We took a bus from here and headed into the Torugart Pass, only one of two passes that would allow us to move in our westerly direction. From the small town, we stopped at the Chinese Immigration post for our exit stamp and a good inspection of our luggage. I was kind of nervous thinking my reckless impulse buy of a knife in the Kashgar cattle market might land me in some trouble but I guess they were looking out for more valuable contraband (like Ming dynasty vases). Here is my first Twilight Zone moment.

Still stunned, I bundled into my bus and headed off to the pass. The countryside changed dramatically, there were no more houses, just rough mountainside and in the distance I swear I could see snow in the peaks. One more stop for a quick check at the last Chinese outpost and here there was none of the cheerfulness nonsense, just soldiers checking our passports. Before we knew it we were off into no mans land.

Mount Kilimanjaro

Having recently had to pass on a trip to Nepal to do the Anapurna Trail, a friend who lives in Africa, maybe out of pity, invited me to go climb Mount Kilimanjaro with her.  Not wanting to strike out a second time I said "Yes" even before I got my clearance from the wife nor having an inkling as to how to fund the trip.

Epic trips nowadays come by far and few between so passing up on this one was out of the question.  Then reality set in.  After having shot off my mouth I googled Mount Kilimanjaro only to find out the actual trek takes 6-7 days, a sobering find considereding I've never really been on a multi day climb, except for Mount Kinabalo and we all know how that turned out.

Couple that with the fact that altitude sickness is apparently common and I had to take a step back.  I think it's safe to say that I have lived all my life at sea level, sometimes even below it (considering how often our house used to get flooded).

Still, the thought of climbing my second foreign mountain and actually taking pictures of this trip is just too good to pass up.  So I thought I'd blog every now and then about the preparations, the heartaches, the pains and the eventual triumph of this epic trip.  So watch this space, all I know for sure is that the trip will take place in November of this year.  Lots of time to get into shape. . . . . (watch out for my "One week before d-day fitness plan entry".

 

Last Shot - Samarkand

Lots of stories attached to the above picture. It is of the Registan Square in Samarkand, possibly the highlight of my trip to Uzbekistan and definitely one of the highlights of my Silk Road trip. I love taking low light pictures at sunset or sunrise. It's a bit of photography trickery really, you wait for the sun to set and just when you think that the sky is too black, you take a long exposure shot and the sky comes out in these incredibly blue hues. That's for sunsets, which was when I originally tried to take this picture.

Unfortunately, in my rush to the site, I totally forgot that I took my camera out of my bag in the hotel room. So there I was, tripod set up just in the right place, I reach into my bag and realize the booboo I just made. This was our last night in Samarkand and I wouldn't get a second shot. By the time I'd run back to the hotel to get the camera, the sky would be too dark.

Luckily, sunrise provides me the same opportunity although it means waking up at an ungodly hour, sneaking out of the hotel and setting up in relative darkness in a deserted street in a foreign land. But since I was not coming back to Samarkand anytime soon I had to do it. I arrive just at the right time, set up my tripod, take a test shot (the one above) and right in the middle of my exposure (13 seconds), the lights are turned off. So this is the only decent low light photo I have of this place. Still better than nothing.

I've got golf coming out of my ears

My latest project is coming to a close. I've been taking pictures of golf courses for what will eventually become the definitive guide to golf in the Philippines. Actually when I was first approached I wasn't too thrilled. For one, I don't play golf so there goes the thrill right away. I never saw the attraction of whacking a ball after contorting your body into the most unnatural position possible (yes, I actually tried for a while).

Couple that with the challenge of taking photos of different golf courses and making them unique. I mean how different is grass, trees and bunkers going to look from one course to the next. Okay, I'm glossing over it a bit, some courses really stood out like Hacienda Luisita and the Baguio courses but in the course of taking shots of these immaculately manicured courses, I was able to go to one which was anything but immaculate and quite frankly it was a bit refreshing.

While taking pictures of the new Thunderbird resort course in Poro Point we drifted into the adjacent Wallace Air Station golf course which is now in the hands of the Philippine Airforce. For the fairway they had brown dry grass and for the greens they had packed dirt. Oh yes, the hazards included the usual bunkers . . . . . . and the occasional goat.

Happy Earth Day Everyone!

Although if you switch on the tellie and watch Discovery Channel or Nat Geo you might not feel so happy.

Another unrelated post but hey, it's a special occasion.  So in the spirit of Earth Day I have decided to enumerate how I, as an individual, can help Mother Earth.

1) When shopping, I refuse plastic bags and put items in my "man bag" (or as I call it, the Jack Bauer bag) instead. I especially do this in National bookstore and Fully Booked since they insist on thermo sealing the bag - as if the customer that just bought something from their store is going to sneak some unpaid item into the bag. . . . . (and back to mother nature).  Sealing the bag makes it useless for recycling since you need to destroy it to get the item out.

2) I still use plastic in the grocery store since there is no way I can fit all that stuff in my man bag but all bags get recycled as lining for trash cans in the house.

3) All vampire electronics get pulled out of the plug at night time.  This includes cellphone chargers, DVD players, computer monitors, speakers and CPUs.

4) All AA batteries that seemed drained get stuck in my wireless mouse which magically drains it even more.  Good for a couple of weeks.

5) My daughter gets into the act by wearing hand me downs thanks to me and my wife's friends and family. Of course my wife can't help herself every now and then when she sees something cute.

6) My dog eats table scraps and the leftovers from when we eat out.

7) All the bulbs in my house are now the low consumption fluorescent type.

8) We use bio degradable soaps and cleansers in the house.

9) We use both sides of the paper for printing. Needless to say we print only the necessary.

and that's about it.  Doesn't seem like a lot but every little bit helps.  Drop me a line if I should be doing more.  But in the meantime, have a "happy" Earth Day.

Eve

Okay, before I left for a 4 day golf course photoshoot trip of Northern Luzon in the Philippines we had a party with some friends in the house. Needless to say the star of the evening (apologies for all the other kids that were stars in their own right. . . . . but it was after all her house) was Eve, my daughter.

Eric, a friend asked why I hadn't blogged about her here and the answer is really two pronged. First, this blog really is more about travel and photography and although there are a few personal entries where I may feature family members, like my stunning wife, I usually try to keep that to a minimum so that the blog has a universal appeal.

The second reason is because as a photographer, I didn't want to post snapshot pics of Eve on the blog. I foolishly told myself before her arrival that the only pictures I would take of her would be fit for an exhibit but as fatherhood has quickly taught me, children, especially those below 1 year old are real hard to take pictures of. And the few precious moments that you do want to take pictures of them are but fleeting moments, gone before you can even think "where's my camera".

However, to address both of the above, there was one photo I recently took which is both relevant to photography and where she obliged by staying absolutely still.

This is her favorite sleeping position, butt in the air. This photo was taken early morning so I had to set up a tripod due to the low light condition. The camera also wouldn't focus because of the same low light so I had to prop my wife's cellphone against her butt, switch it on and focus on the lit screen, switch to manual focus (so that the camera won't try to focus again once I press the shutter button), remove the cellphone and then take the shot, so yes, this was not a snapshot.

Sharing Blogs (fixed)

Sorry about that folks, fixed the link below or click here. Thanks D for pointing it out.

Sharing Blogs

Seeing as I've been having internet problems (yup, that's what I call it) and thereby not being able to post any new materials I thought I'd share a fellow bloggers amazing find.  Wonder if you'll get it.  Watch it here.

My Ayurvedic Moment

Some time ago, me and two other friends found ourselves in the province with not much to do.  Ronald, a regular traveler through most of the Philippines, and our defacto guide suggested we get a massage at this place he knew off but never actually went to.  So off we went, three guys with time to kill. 

At the massage place, I had a room to myself while the two shared one.  I lay down, and soon enough the masseuse arrived.  I thought nothing of the fact that he was a man, and had myself a thoroughly relaxing massage.  It turns out that in the other room, my two friends were giving each other “the look” the moment their male masseuses’ came in.  It turns out male on male contact still carried a kind of homophobic vibe to it.  Oblivious to the near revolt that was going on in the next room, I was lulled into bliss by the manly hands that manipulated the knots out of my body. 

Since then, this story kept cropping up at reunions and parties and although I laughed along with them, secretly I thought “what was the big deal?”

Jump forward a couple of years.  I find myself in India, home of the therapeutic and medicinal Ayurvedic massage.  My wife and I had just come from the majesty that is the Taj Mahal in Agra which was followed by a grueling 6 hour road trip among India’s infamous Agra-Delhi highway.  It started off nicely, we passed serene countryside, every now and then the sometimes dreary brownish green landscape was interrupted by a group of sari clad women in the most outrageous colors imaginable, at one point I even saw a neon orange one.  But between these and the trucks, over laden by heaps of hay I was soon lulled to sleep as I always am in any form of transport.

Soon however, as we were nearing the more populated areas, the beeping starting.  Horn blowing on the road it seems, is a part of life in India.  It maybe as justified as “hey man, I’m coming through” or as ridiculous as “you, in the opposite lane, I’m passing by so stick to your lane okay”.  I couldn’t decypher the rest of the reasons why our driver Jagdish was blowing his horn, sometimes I think he just liked to see if it was still working.  After close to 2 hours of this, my stress levels were way up and we were both glad to arrive at the relative sanctuary of New Delhi’s Le Meridien hotel.

It was my wife’s idea to de-stress with a nice massage and so we headed off to the spa.

The choices available included some international types of massage, from Thai to Swedish but I was intrigued by the local Ayurvedic massage.  Apparently, in the state of Kerala you can check into an Ayurvedic hospital in order to treat everything from hair loss to spinal injury.  I couldn’t let it pass me by.  When we initially made our inquiry through the phone I was asked if I wanted a male of female masseuse, and remembering my previous encounter I opted for the female. 

When we checked into the spa, I was given my first surprise.  Apparently, traditional Ayurvedic massages are considered an actual form of medical treatment and before a trained practitioner even came close to me I would have to fill up and sign a disclaimer, which also required me to give part of my medical history.  No problem, I was what I consider in the prime of my life and gladly signed.  Next surprise, it turned out that traditional Ayurvedic massages do not allow cross gender contact and so I would be assigned a male masseuse.  No problem I think to myself, despite my friends previous reactions, I would not cringe from male on male contact . . . . for massage purposes that is. And then our spa receptionist dropped the A bomb.  “Sir, traditional Ayurvedic massage is performed with two masseuse simultaneously”.   This took me by surprise.  I was aware that Ayurvedic massage involved a lot of hot oil but being told now that two burly men would be rubbing me down with hot oil simultaneously, well that just gave me some pause for thought.

“BRING IT ON!” I shouted silently to myself “That will do fine” I told the receptionist nonchalantly.  I just had to go through with it.  In my constant struggle for one upmanship with my friends, whether it was mountain biking down a fast hill, trying dyno that last handhold on in the rock climbing gym or just trying to goad ourselves into a triathalon, I find I had painted myself in a corner.  I just had to go through with it in order to say “Dude, you remember when we were massaged by men?  Well I just beat you, I just got massage by two men . . . eat my dust.”

The massage itself went fine.  I lay on my back and had four hands rhythmically rub my body from the bottom of my soles to my shoulders.  I have to say I was hoping for more of a sensation, maybe that’s not the right word, more of a difference but it felt no different from an ordinary massage.  Then they asked me to turn over and this is where I almost lose it.  Four hands rubbing, kneading your back is fine, but the same number of hands rubbing your chest automatically makes me . . . smile in a ticklish sort of way.  Were it not for my intense teeth clenching and the face towel covering my eyes the masseuse handling me (literally) might have thought I was getting some perverse pleasure beyond the therapeutic ones the massage intended to give me.  I was torn between laughing out loud and jumping out running away kicking and screaming.  Thankfully, after a while, one of the guys gives me a tap and says “Finished already, did you enjoy?”

“Yes” I said, still fighting the grin that still hung around “Yes, I did, thank you very much”.

 

Prologue

Not long afterwards, I find myself in the backwaters of the state of Kerala, ground zero and the origin of Ayurvedic medicine.  As I check into the resort I’d be staying at for the next 2 days the receptionist asks me if I would like to try a relaxing and traditional Ayurvedic massage.

“Can I get just my head and shoulders massaged?” I ask.

“Why yes sir” she answered.

Just to check, I asked “Will they be massaging my chest area?” signing towards my newly realized sensitive area.

“No sir, only the head and chest sir, but if you would like . . . . “ she replied, slightly quizzically.

“No, no, no, no " I replied a little too hastily and after getting my composure asked "And it will just be one person massaging me?”

“Yes” she answered me skeptically looking at me.

“Then sign me up” I said nonchalantly, but deep down inside I was screaming “BRING IT ON”.

Patience is a virtue . . .

Sorry guys, another technical photography entry here, still haven't been able to get over this fever I'm currently experiencing and so I can't get myself down to my home office to my image library database. Here's a bit of good news though.

Some of you know I've been trying to stick to the mantra of "if it ain't broken, don't upgrade" which is why I'm still shooting with a Canon 30D (since then they released a 40D and a 50D after that) with my back-up body being the old 350D (yup, there's a 400D and a 450D now). I've been trying to figure out how I can break my old 30D so I can upgrade to a 50D but common sense has stopped me from taking foolish measures and it looks like it has paid off.

Canon announced their new entry level camera, the Rebel T1i (that's the same grade as my 350D) and it's looking great. Has all the features I'm looking for, a 50D sensor, Digic 4, self cleaning sensor, high ISO settings. Of course I'll wait for the initial reviews but if all the stuff they announced works like it should then that's my next camera.

Oh yes, they'll also have HD video capability which was previously only available in Canon's 5D model, a model I couldn't afford. Read the full press release on Canon's Website here.

Displaying the goods

Okay, there must be a million gazillion photographers out there now who are itching to display their works online.  Flickr is nice but has too much of a community feel to it and smugmug (which is what I use www.pathfinderphotography.com) is perfect if you're really in the business but if you're just after a free space then it's somewhat limiting, 14 day trial only.

I bumped into a new website that so far seems to offer a perfect free solution.  Carbonmade provides you with 5 projects or galleries and you can display a total of 35 images on your site.  Look what I put together in one morning - www.joeyzaballero.carbonmade.com. I think it's perfect for showing off mini sections of your portfolio - maybe 5 architecture projects, 5 travel projects, etc. or good for showing off a little bit of everything.  In any case, I know some of you are raring to try it so go for it - www.carbonmade.com.

Where is this?

Took this somewhere in the US, sipping coffee with a friend. It's a busy place and there's lots of people around so taking a picture with no people around is quite a feat.

What the Duck!

It's Friday so time to lighten things up with some humor. I recently discovered this cartoon. Great point of view, basically from the photographer's. Go to www.whattheduck.net for daily cartoons.

Indian School Bus

I was walking down a street in Fort Cochin, India and it so happened that it was the end of the day for the local school kids. A stream of children walked home but there was also a line of the ubiquitous autorickshaws waiting to pick up their passengers. If I were to compare them to our local transport in the Philippines I'd say they were a cross between a jeepney and a tricycle. They don't follow a set route like the jeepneys here but there would be no way we could turn a tricycle into a schoolbus like they did in India. For one you could never stand up in our tricycles (only sit) and we don't have roof racks on ours.

Although universally these modes of transports (autorickshaws, tricycles, jeepneys) are the scourge of the roads, ever cursed by their fellow motorists, but try running a city without them and everything will grind to a standstill. For one these kids would have to walk home.

Sharing the love

Here's a great website of a photographer that kind of shares my philosophy of trying to get everything in camera (vs. doing a lot of photoshop . . . . which I don't use).  It's even more amazing when you see her photos, the apple photos are not photoshopped!  OK she does live in Iceland where sometimes the sun doesn't set giving her a virtual golden hour for half a day but still, some very amazing photos.  Visit her site www.rebekkagudleifs.com.

WWII Revisited

I recently had a chance to discover a great historical place right in my own backyard. The island fortress of Corregidor, a focal point of WWII action in the Pacific, it's where MacArthur left with the promise of "I Shall Return". To think it's only an hour's ferry ride from Manila.

Now I've been to other war memorials and places of interest but Corregidor was different. Sure they've put up memorials but also, a good chunk of the island was left untouched. Apart from clearing out the overgrowing jungle, the buildings, the bunkers and the gun placements are pretty much where they were back in the 40's. It's eerie in a way, to be able to walk up to a bunker door and see bullet holes that you can stick your fingers through or to walk down Malinta Tunnel, the last hold out, and experience what it must have been like knowing defeat was right around the corner.

More amazing were the Japanese tourists that were with us. A couple were on our tram as we went around and although the spectre of war must have been long gone even before we were born, I couldn't help but notice the reverence they had for the place, including the Japanese War memorial on the island. Standing to attention and a curt nod spoke heaps.