Nothing better than cooling off in the river after a half day of travel up river by longboat. The Iban Dayak people of inner Borneo were awesome to stay with in their traditional longhouse. They were gracious and giving. 2017

Outside of Lijiang, China, 2004

Fuji Pro Slide Film

Floods of Southern India in 2009 left thousands without homes. The ancient world heritage sites were closed off and the now homeless were allowed to inhabit the ruins. They slept, cooked and hung laundry throughout the ancient monuments. There was sadness, but joy as well despite losing everything they owned.

India is a place of intense colour. It is often lurid, disorganized and indiscriminate. For Western sensibilities, that include blacks, silver, tan and blues, it seems like an alerting and alarming choice to make. The difference is stark and needs to be approached from a different understanding I think? Great pride and even personal power must come from dressing this way? It is however, candy to a camera lens and is magic to a creative mind.

I have written a blog in Yesterday’s Coffee around the amazing experience of showing a picture to a 101 year old woman in Cambodia called The Heart Steps Ahead of the Lens, Adventures in Cambodia. I would love it if you would take the time to visit with this story?

The Jama Masjid in Delhi was erected in 1656, yet it is still a fully working mosque with a capacity of up to 25,000 people. Like many of the great Masjids, it is pinned in place by four massive minarets on each corner. A thin twisting staircase can take you to a tiny look out where you can feel a cool breeze and a 360 degree view. I had just stopped a man and his children from using a Sharpie to tattoo their names into the edifice when I turned around in time to snap this shot of a your man surveying the streets below.

5:30 am is when the Phong Dien floating market reaches its fever pitch. The Captain deftly handles the traffic as he pushes boats aside and helps me to find a perfect vantage point to observe or become a part of the action. This is one of the oldest and least visited markets in Vietnam because of its distance from any big tourist routes.

From 1975 to 1979 Pol Pot’s socialist agrarian republic, founded on Maoism killed approximately 1.5 to 3 million of its own people. His party of Khmer Rouge soldiers made up of young Cambodians rounded up business professionals, teachers, artists and the educated and relocated the population to forced labour camps where they were put to work in manufacturing rice and other crops. Physical abuse, malnutrition and disease proliferated during those 4 years. People suspected of being opposition, most living in the cities, were taken to the “killing fields” where 25% of the country’s population were summarily executed using largely farm implements to save bullets, and buried in mass graves. Of that population 20,000 were sent to one of 196 prisons for torturing, of which the famous S-21 was the most prolific. Only 7 people have been counted as survivors of this gruesome imprisonment. As you travel the country roads to the North of that country, near the city of Battambang you begin to notice the age gaps appear. There exist mostly the very young and the very old that survived. There is a whole generation missing. Still you find a warmth and kindness here even at this particular roadside stall where an old woman stuffs bamboo tubes with coconut sticky rice that are roasted over smouldering charcoal. Sitting in the dirt of the street and eating side by side was a great privilege. Cambodia has so much to teach us.

We were already 2 weeks into our 3 week expedition circumnavigating the Indonesian island of Lombok during Ramadan. Our driver, Mr. Happy, took us through a shortcut through a winding mountain pass to a tiny homestay buried in staircases of rice paddies. There was a deaf boy there called Darmanis who was overjoyed when we agreed to let him guide us into some mountain villages with no road access. We hiked all day to reach a village of 80 people. As we rounded a ridge we could see the village of thatched elephant grass roofs across the jungle valley. Word had got out about our arrival and you could hear the village chanting with excitement. We arrived to fanfare as we emptied our bag of candies and pens to thrilled children. They had not had visitors that looked like us before and it made you feel as excited as they were.

Deep in the mountains of Yunnan Province to the North of China nearest the Tibetan boarder exists Lijiang or Dayan Old Town. The 1000 year old town built of ancient houses of legendary timber beam construction is a magical place with cobbled streets polished from a millennia of use. Lanterns light the evenings like stars in the sky and Dongjing classical music players practise with their windows open for all. The local Nakhi people collect in a round main square to dance and clap along. Only the oldest remain dressed as they were so long ago even still. The women in particular, can be seen heaving huge heavy sacks of supplies around on their backs bent forward in a shuffle paying little mind to the strange site of a Western traveller. The thin mountain air keeps everyone moving slow as we all try to shake off the cold from the night.

Intense colour takes hold in an outskirts of Orchha, Madhya Pradesh, India.

A tight alleyway leads to a stone gate with a place to park and drink a chai from the local tea shop. Like coffee shops of the West, people relax, read the newspaper or just make a few notes about what’s on their mind. 

The Northern Vietnamese town of Sapa is a delight. It is a mixed up, intoxicating solution of old Hmong tribes with the need to satiate the desires of well-healed travellers. Sapa at this time was difficult to get to: a full over-night train, then a very steep and winding road through the most beautiful semblance of rice fields stacked as if it were a wedding cake. Our research brought us to the conclusion that we wanted to meet the local Black Hmong where they lived. We found a guide that would find us a family to prepare food and have lunch with. After that we hiked into the fields to meet families hard at work cutting swaths of rice stalks for animal feed.

A highway is planned that will cut a full night and half a day journey down to 3 - 4 hours. What future will these villages have? How will they retain the most important elements of their culture? Will it strengthen their resolve or will it collapse under the pressures?

Tam Coc is magical. It is a landscape of karst limestone pinnacles of stone that jut from perfectly flat golf green rice fields. From the air this must look like fingers pointing at the moon? The area is punctuated by a unique, snaking river that over millions of years has built itself tunnels through these hills. This bizarre landscape brings with it thousands of tourists hungry to take in such a spectacle. On busy days, hundreds of boats crowd the river system with boat captains that use their legs and feet to row their vessels adding to the very special feelings a first time visitor gets here. At one point, our Tam Coc day stopped for a lunch at Chez Loan where I had the most memorable meal of Banana Flower Salad. I still remember this remarkable meal years later.

Deep in the old city walls of Yogyakarta is the 17th century water palace known for its sophisticated natural cooling systems of water running through it at one time. It can be found in the Taman Sari complex and it now provides an oasis from a bustling city for its locals. Young boys and girls can be found sitting close to one another eating or just talking. Graffiti is ubiquitous throughout with most scribblings professing love to one another.

If you are travelling to Kuching, Malaysian Borneo, it’s an easy trip out to see some pretty amazing wildlife, floral and fauna of Bako National Park. First thing after getting off of the bus is to locate a boat captain who understands tidal charts and how to maneuver the water filled sandbanks on the way. There you can hike trails with more slippery tree roots than actual dirt. We are here to see if we can spot the bulbous nosed proboscis monkeys and see the incredible pitcher plants littering the sides of the trails here. As a storm approached, our boat captain beaconed us past the wild boars on the beach to join him in the boat to race the growing clouds back to civilization.

A caretaker of the City Palace in Udaipur takes a rest while a painting of one of the past owners of this palace watches over him. Maharana Sheem Singh ruled in the late 1700s. The carpets here were loomed by inmates of the prison at that time and the furniture is very traditional Rajasthani.

This is one of the best Chai stops in the oldest part of Varanasi. A fan keeps the open flames hot enough to fully boil the chai. It is always served in tiny clay vessels that are smashed after you sip your tea. Probably the best recycling you can find. Nothing goes to waste here and it is by far the most compact of shops; basically taking up the space of a doorway.

Sonepur Mela in Bihar is an agricultural fair, but crowds really come for the rides, to purchase cheap and cheerful goods, see original craftwork and join in on the fun of being around a lot of people. Bags are just one of the colourful things you can pick up here.

The caste system of India can be very cruel. Called the Dome people of Varanasi (which may be derogatory) they are the lowest of the castes and are in charge of the cremation fires. It is said they are not allowed to touch anything others need to touch such as glassware in a restaurant. They are also reputed to be rich from their duty of death. They sometimes resemble gypsies even though they have been in this place longer than recorded history. They were wonderful and inviting, curious and respectful. They also looked for any way to make money. After every photo, there were protestations that money needed to change hands.

It never ceases to amaze me what people in large cities do for survival. IN Yogyakarta, Indonesia a man throws a fishing net in a culvert running under inner-city bridges. He fills his basket with his catch so the pressure is off. Time for an end of day smoke.

One of the busiest markets in Varanasi is the hard to find flower market. Garlands of marigolds flood the market and the senses. Business is brisk and nothing remained still for very long. These flowers are used in ritual for both prayer offerings and for cremation.

A lifetime ago the Iban tribes of Borneo were known as the most fierce warriors, taking and collecting the heads of their enemies as well as maintaining the tradition, meaning and beliefs around their body tattoos. Although this reputation and ritual has disappeared, many of their rituals and beliefs still hold true today. Their way of life remains similar such as living communally in multi-familial longhouses and subsistence living.

Too old to work the hillside pepper and rice crops, the older men and women rest languidly and listen to Malay music broadcast from great distance, the buzz of children now spending the weekdays and nights at their far away school.

In the early evening, the quiet is interrupted by the thrumming of the petrol generator allowing an hour or so of light enough to cook and visit with each others’ families.

A Saddle Bronc rider sets up his mount in preparation to be fired out of the shoot to an uncertain future. The Brooks, Alberts Rodeo is a favourite as the access for the bold is a look behind the scenes and deep into a history of horsemanship.

Lucky enough to spend time with Dale Hannis, the cattle herdsman at Bouvry farm. He looks after mostly Angus cattle with his trusty partner Colt. Dale has a passion for his work with cattle. “I love being a herdsman!”.