tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45018010175437809782024-03-23T21:30:08.939-07:00Travelling Palm SnapshotsMONDAY ARTPOSThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05875172319252657209noreply@blogger.comBlogger255125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-40859796647065552772024-03-23T21:29:00.000-07:002024-03-23T21:29:28.334-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMQkRlTdQ2RDhKnutgefTV2B2kEMQ4gx7gIIUcBIUbnOs1D91gnhFgJVSDjRSNFZpNWQGWlSLL65vrNntvmP51izcKqo5AKo1Xr82GdjPdvPsZSNltj1AWzUw9V5Zzx_NBZ0DBIqArRt3A-nfedK-hLnDUwSB3t7yAFNIcqI5PgK_0lFyQLSfsS1YACv0/s1500/AP%20Canada%202022%20%E2%80%93%2002.21%20CherryBeach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMQkRlTdQ2RDhKnutgefTV2B2kEMQ4gx7gIIUcBIUbnOs1D91gnhFgJVSDjRSNFZpNWQGWlSLL65vrNntvmP51izcKqo5AKo1Xr82GdjPdvPsZSNltj1AWzUw9V5Zzx_NBZ0DBIqArRt3A-nfedK-hLnDUwSB3t7yAFNIcqI5PgK_0lFyQLSfsS1YACv0/s320/AP%20Canada%202022%20%E2%80%93%2002.21%20CherryBeach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div>Canada (February, 2021) – It had been a long stretch of isolation, leading to wild ideas. It was far beyond subzero; the lake frozen – glacial in appearance with stretches of unappealing ridged ice. The girls and I met up for a dog walk along the beachfront. I remember a joyful day, full of laughter, cackles and grins resulting in a few frozen fingers. It wasn't until I started to defrost that I could appreciate the scenery in its glory.</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-34239408348188429082024-03-17T08:14:00.000-07:002024-03-17T08:14:16.706-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdf3F2sMBI8PmKYofV6IXh6ie2QtzLT8iWk22TR5h12fy9_UlxNGAKSHkTHFw90_dHiBBsnCIKfidbiN2I-Fd7bArlmpq52B1AWhCk8x2VACSqnqGh21_gZy-8j5q7SREsae4Qdt0mMum8MENWNt41Br4z8_DnQafGm-m7c8FYeX_jOwNJk9RwTh-bVtg/s1500/AP%20Uzbekistan%202019%20%E2%80%93%20Tashkent%20Hazrati%20-%20Jali.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdf3F2sMBI8PmKYofV6IXh6ie2QtzLT8iWk22TR5h12fy9_UlxNGAKSHkTHFw90_dHiBBsnCIKfidbiN2I-Fd7bArlmpq52B1AWhCk8x2VACSqnqGh21_gZy-8j5q7SREsae4Qdt0mMum8MENWNt41Br4z8_DnQafGm-m7c8FYeX_jOwNJk9RwTh-bVtg/s320/AP%20Uzbekistan%202019%20%E2%80%93%20Tashkent%20Hazrati%20-%20Jali.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Uzbekistan (November, 2019) – As we walked past the first of several doorways it was evident that restoration was underway. Wandering through the side entrance of the 16th century complex, we discovered the secluded women's section. Divided from the rest of the space with hand carved wooden screens, reminiscent to those found in India and back at the homestead. It was a nod to the familiar with the added light cast through the etched window panels. </span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-84904069820048760722024-03-09T22:14:00.000-08:002024-03-09T22:14:36.337-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-42lNCXgxzRSECF9ct1C3BxPvkI4flvxKXy_0yKkqwdCggakMFskhxUzMMJ81xB0EB3-J-9bASD4lUsPql5mNK_wP-BFok3oIZiCyWbsWVdz59pdBdmsDLEx6sLVXK6H3NJzz7vFAw4ZPlk4fG_ZTEREy8dk9fOKrc6_TZ80DQi6KIOR4wQkdXSsBh9M/s1500/AP%20Canada%202021%20%E2%80%93%20ChurchSt.Mural.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-42lNCXgxzRSECF9ct1C3BxPvkI4flvxKXy_0yKkqwdCggakMFskhxUzMMJ81xB0EB3-J-9bASD4lUsPql5mNK_wP-BFok3oIZiCyWbsWVdz59pdBdmsDLEx6sLVXK6H3NJzz7vFAw4ZPlk4fG_ZTEREy8dk9fOKrc6_TZ80DQi6KIOR4wQkdXSsBh9M/s320/AP%20Canada%202021%20%E2%80%93%20ChurchSt.Mural.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Canada (June, 2021) – I vaguely remember feeling better about the change of seasons, the change of light, the lifting of restrictions. The neighbourhood got a fresh coat of paint and a few colourful murals to brighten the covid haze. For a brief moment; the light was perfect and my mood inspired, pondering the next great thing to come my way.</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-72054745202619517542024-03-03T02:34:00.000-08:002024-03-03T02:34:28.599-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHpjT07M6oIkBO-i-TMyl_OYY9Y0VSIuVc0nZMONKva7pzZ3POOiRaEQjQJzfwg0p3EGE_5K4OxyYXrwdT2hScSYWaKIBMz3ghc5VIvOwpbZhyphenhyphen_pR6EN3cAWtO6JMl0yQUGYo3T5gMKArhBwGfvKJmWBToYrpad_Ui8aMR3-jalI3cK9726I1ImGMCxo8/s1500/AP%20Canada%202024%20%E2%80%93%20194026295HaringAGO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHpjT07M6oIkBO-i-TMyl_OYY9Y0VSIuVc0nZMONKva7pzZ3POOiRaEQjQJzfwg0p3EGE_5K4OxyYXrwdT2hScSYWaKIBMz3ghc5VIvOwpbZhyphenhyphen_pR6EN3cAWtO6JMl0yQUGYo3T5gMKArhBwGfvKJmWBToYrpad_Ui8aMR3-jalI3cK9726I1ImGMCxo8/s320/AP%20Canada%202024%20%E2%80%93%20194026295HaringAGO.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">Canada (February, 2024) – I went back for a second whirlwind tour of Haring's (often explicit) 80's pop art exhibition. </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">Perhaps based on the location of my childhood domicile and the eclectic entourage that visited, I am familiar with a particular era of Haring's iconography. I found myself lost both times watching old videos of the artist in action... literally painting himself into a corner. For me the retrospective connects to a particularly difficult time; a lingering epidemic with an overwhelming sense of prejudice based on fear of the unknown. </span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-46732229714126026612024-02-24T20:41:00.000-08:002024-02-25T06:14:37.757-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUS6zpTpSbyAG87btp0e9KE3wVfeFvkVbBot0UuU-ELzNrtkWHRDG3iemhE2NvjmJMccXom776ogJm6uXcBVOB9DQnU3sqZQC2VGK75EQylHKCcja_XVrGp_mSGVeYc5zdXRVNITuGL1h3eZCe3UxqpgpYig6IKt4c4CmPi4q_7dvWwks36rp_O2CiLs4/s1500/AP%20India%202016%20%E2%80%93%20TemiTeaPlantation.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUS6zpTpSbyAG87btp0e9KE3wVfeFvkVbBot0UuU-ELzNrtkWHRDG3iemhE2NvjmJMccXom776ogJm6uXcBVOB9DQnU3sqZQC2VGK75EQylHKCcja_XVrGp_mSGVeYc5zdXRVNITuGL1h3eZCe3UxqpgpYig6IKt4c4CmPi4q_7dvWwks36rp_O2CiLs4/s320/AP%20India%202016%20%E2%80%93%20TemiTeaPlantation.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">India (December, 2016) – We drove the scenic route from Gangtok to the Temi Tea Estate, stopping several times along the way. Each time admiring the varying panoramas of the Kanchenjunga, the tea garden estate was no different. We had a spot of tea and a small snack while gazing out at the gardens with the added Himalayas as the surreal backdrop. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-37417017650886482802024-02-17T22:45:00.000-08:002024-02-17T22:45:27.122-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpodlPzHx_hmGBsg0dQOUB47oSAnIF6H209U9TAIWDvQt_btjJ2Ny1xESEUj2KDwYbsyrieAHs1rXKbydSewkIi40exLQQXhORuw1VFry8tti_8vbFUxus9uzIiyEnUwedohv_tOS6Xh-hN4YwsXlgQPr7uElU9Z1qIiFHJErbIJA498YHTApaUk_vUUA/s1500/Belgium%202015%20%E2%80%93%20P1030439.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpodlPzHx_hmGBsg0dQOUB47oSAnIF6H209U9TAIWDvQt_btjJ2Ny1xESEUj2KDwYbsyrieAHs1rXKbydSewkIi40exLQQXhORuw1VFry8tti_8vbFUxus9uzIiyEnUwedohv_tOS6Xh-hN4YwsXlgQPr7uElU9Z1qIiFHJErbIJA498YHTApaUk_vUUA/s320/Belgium%202015%20%E2%80%93%20P1030439.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Belgium (May, 2015) – The intended goal was a short road trip to Bruges with the matriarch and then back to the ancestral homestead for one last hurrah. Upon our return we stopped in Ghent to spin around for the afternoon marvelling at the architecture. Stadshal is a stand alone canopy which while being an open air structure, still has an overwhelming cathedral feel to it. The interior Afrormosia wood panelling and heavy metal beams, a striking contrast to the architectural styles surrounding the city pavilion. </span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-71234537223965156962024-02-10T19:06:00.000-08:002024-02-10T19:06:58.878-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vwUlxI5fX8Nm7Ecee0y1z00Swt96Nz7vrgFNQHYYOH5hbQryPOXl8zHJGAcqGyx7tAeIVDpJXkWxp3ryPM1VGIRp_ZpQLzKqqtryXJfzNwImBe-Vsz3pA3GsWFIt2yj1-ZtrStswvGnQgr95ldqVZRFnm0rA0NYM-6_EyGbhyphenhyphen1jwOqStVIdmIu07hDk/s1500/AP%20Iceland%202010%20-%20Blue%20Lagoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vwUlxI5fX8Nm7Ecee0y1z00Swt96Nz7vrgFNQHYYOH5hbQryPOXl8zHJGAcqGyx7tAeIVDpJXkWxp3ryPM1VGIRp_ZpQLzKqqtryXJfzNwImBe-Vsz3pA3GsWFIt2yj1-ZtrStswvGnQgr95ldqVZRFnm0rA0NYM-6_EyGbhyphenhyphen1jwOqStVIdmIu07hDk/s320/AP%20Iceland%202010%20-%20Blue%20Lagoon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Iceland (2010) – My flight arrived in Keflavik just as the sky was rising from its summer slumber. In a matter of hours, I was wading in the Blue Lagoon shaking off the mundane stress of life. I spent the day in Iceland, soaking myself in the intense hues of milky blue-turquoise geothermal waters, surrounded by the remnants of ancient lava flows. It was quite the surreal experience for someone living in a concrete jungle. </span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-24130374523435966832024-02-03T22:00:00.000-08:002024-02-03T22:00:15.549-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmeuhmPGLz7vlP3WiLDRDD75_NNFvTwFVnkagHcOlHOPEI2i_ITsYgPkR4BVfwd9j_g4H7d_I9Tt4aa3VVcvXMZIYxNdDAi-DIObHdo5shnEwQo6h0-c3podTgfgQ7X-Ihyphenhyphenf3_D1NGcnRYPlHb1vcaKtfRjdxaunrQQOrVaR2olOA2nvOTOrVtBrCry80/s1500/AP%20Madagascar%202010%20%E2%80%93%20279%20Zebu4x4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmeuhmPGLz7vlP3WiLDRDD75_NNFvTwFVnkagHcOlHOPEI2i_ITsYgPkR4BVfwd9j_g4H7d_I9Tt4aa3VVcvXMZIYxNdDAi-DIObHdo5shnEwQo6h0-c3podTgfgQ7X-Ihyphenhyphenf3_D1NGcnRYPlHb1vcaKtfRjdxaunrQQOrVaR2olOA2nvOTOrVtBrCry80/s320/AP%20Madagascar%202010%20%E2%80%93%20279%20Zebu4x4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Madagascar (March, 2010) – I was definitely not prepared for the odyssey ahead, adventuring in what the locals called ‘zebu 4x4’. We arrived in the middle of nowhere; to find a rather medieval looking wooden cart and two huge zebu being harnessed and hitched to what turned out to be our transportation. We were hauled; tossed and shaken about through marshes and swamps filled with water lilies, under tamarind trees and eventually through rice paddies. The mise-en-scène was rather glorius.</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-35846965199296819242024-01-28T10:06:00.000-08:002024-01-28T10:06:14.551-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVO74ZMIYGyaGT71m4i-MtS0w9oeR7hl7hPr871YEBUuP9u0wGWAmIdsEQ5R-nAyj-wtUX5t-8wWX06rnAWFLtN1NrXwoVJmkA1qrwUNb7qyNOr_zXCAQuwBO-SslBk2heVH1VtgAl8UIK-fIZHCdetyR7q-XJ-wKqXizWO_EDJKdIqjXH_YT5XIUZzt0/s1500/AP%20France%202015%20-%20Groove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVO74ZMIYGyaGT71m4i-MtS0w9oeR7hl7hPr871YEBUuP9u0wGWAmIdsEQ5R-nAyj-wtUX5t-8wWX06rnAWFLtN1NrXwoVJmkA1qrwUNb7qyNOr_zXCAQuwBO-SslBk2heVH1VtgAl8UIK-fIZHCdetyR7q-XJ-wKqXizWO_EDJKdIqjXH_YT5XIUZzt0/s320/AP%20France%202015%20-%20Groove.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">France (May, 2015) – We took the train into the city for the essential excursion into history and for some gourmandise. Somewhere between sampling chocolate and venturing for gelato, dashing our way through point zero and finding distractions in the barrage of street art, I found a moment of reflection. It's the novelty of doing everything and nothing at the same time. It's always a sensory experience when day-tripping with the tribe, though perhaps groovy isn't the correct term.</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-737841921215471792024-01-07T09:01:00.000-08:002024-02-27T19:41:24.812-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMgVLxz-x2FURxm_pRP1XdqOwIn2Nmmcov6Wl5fUDu8CEMfpyTd4WbopTXEytA9YQ578R-waWOmEtrofDclc1rgh5N5Ubjy3YmMTf5tET6epD_clILW106P158ak1spEniQxkCfwCXgXDIolOD_U8FvTErwJvJJA2j6kUWSKxV_Uj6KCCu-tbZClOAugk/s1500/AP%20Canada%202023%20%E2%80%93%20PQbrouillard.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMgVLxz-x2FURxm_pRP1XdqOwIn2Nmmcov6Wl5fUDu8CEMfpyTd4WbopTXEytA9YQ578R-waWOmEtrofDclc1rgh5N5Ubjy3YmMTf5tET6epD_clILW106P158ak1spEniQxkCfwCXgXDIolOD_U8FvTErwJvJJA2j6kUWSKxV_Uj6KCCu-tbZClOAugk/s320/AP%20Canada%202023%20%E2%80%93%20PQbrouillard.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Canada (December, 2023) – It felt very apocalyptic as the fog overtook the car for long stretches of road. The four-year-old remarkably repeated and multiplied our discourse that the world was coming to an end, as everything beyond a couple metres simply disappeared from sight. To lighten the mood, we debated flat earth theories and zombies between humming the tunes melodically playing in the background. Our lofty goal of catching the northern lights was indeed a failed family mission, but what we missed out on with climacteric skies was replaced instead living in the moments of pure wonder and joy.</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-80273456585470130072024-01-07T08:58:00.000-08:002024-01-07T09:00:37.906-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyyOwgTfHb0dieRPzypFUOi1ZFRuvZdEK2TDcCw0dY9Ixbg9Psq4DOkMEEe-7JU71fZfg7td1eBR3VvYnPDyn9DA9K15KJZDoq1938OFtbN1UtfgalDxdgpV3i4smWjcLFGuYSvap-JYYHsNyqpU6frM_e6wBv1N-YaQno-qdFnZhC1KNFMCYE2u6T0Q/s1500/AP%20Canada%202023%20%E2%80%93%20Manitoulin%20M&E.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyyOwgTfHb0dieRPzypFUOi1ZFRuvZdEK2TDcCw0dY9Ixbg9Psq4DOkMEEe-7JU71fZfg7td1eBR3VvYnPDyn9DA9K15KJZDoq1938OFtbN1UtfgalDxdgpV3i4smWjcLFGuYSvap-JYYHsNyqpU6frM_e6wBv1N-YaQno-qdFnZhC1KNFMCYE2u6T0Q/s320/AP%20Canada%202023%20%E2%80%93%20Manitoulin%20M&E.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">Canada (December, 2023) – We skirted around Bridal Veil Falls; along the winding path of fairy houses, passing </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">several bronze sculptures and patches of dangling icicles without the covering of snow. Mother nature has certainly made her mark, as our expectations of snow-covered indigenous territories failed to appear. We arrived in Manitoulin expecting inclement weather and perhaps an atmosphere of winter wonderland. Instead the last day of the year brought with it a mix of emotions, lost in thoughts and taking in new memories while adventuring into the woods.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-4315002965524845612023-12-24T15:09:00.000-08:002023-12-24T15:11:11.968-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYN5UUsjfURBrZ4yAWmCntkbMv99f3nEUwbTBWZTyMB9xaPsF5_KHS55pmVT3dlco4IRQ8g0faLXvOk4u1a0tZjDO566JzGEung4666ogDgghJalNUrArsBuU4ZMq4vcKa5xN-3ub9aCCykaiATNK1G9VadjUlsGt_nVJWhhIBNA7GJll0UJw1HzbFPU8/s1500/AP%20Morocco%202014%20%E2%80%93%20LetterBox.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYN5UUsjfURBrZ4yAWmCntkbMv99f3nEUwbTBWZTyMB9xaPsF5_KHS55pmVT3dlco4IRQ8g0faLXvOk4u1a0tZjDO566JzGEung4666ogDgghJalNUrArsBuU4ZMq4vcKa5xN-3ub9aCCykaiATNK1G9VadjUlsGt_nVJWhhIBNA7GJll0UJw1HzbFPU8/s320/AP%20Morocco%202014%20%E2%80%93%20LetterBox.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Morocco (September, 2014) – I'm unsure if the Art Deco details or the muted hues drew my attention first, but the coral gate was different from its surroundings. I have an intellectual draw towards the romanticism of postcards, letters, calligraphy and all things postage. Cast against the adobe hues, the amusement of a lovely coral letterbox invigorated my imagination. </span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-72103766244023660332023-12-17T08:39:00.000-08:002023-12-17T08:39:36.522-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiM8SE7uAE5w8NfNZ8JeN6-rwrhdEK3PH67hYaHInwVVfZp8LOqVImEYj2TcLir1RDbU6lQqD34IJU06yYLU7ruiv5iKMY_6It_qu8ZDGtvo2v4S-x9jkWrlHfYr_rlQXGjZ_FTforXXT3jYYnNcfQPBIpkFl890oZKWunYd6UNeMLEFe0Wvz2kOa9eqk/s1500/AP%20Uzbekistan%202019%20%E2%80%93%20Khiva%20EasternWall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiM8SE7uAE5w8NfNZ8JeN6-rwrhdEK3PH67hYaHInwVVfZp8LOqVImEYj2TcLir1RDbU6lQqD34IJU06yYLU7ruiv5iKMY_6It_qu8ZDGtvo2v4S-x9jkWrlHfYr_rlQXGjZ_FTforXXT3jYYnNcfQPBIpkFl890oZKWunYd6UNeMLEFe0Wvz2kOa9eqk/s320/AP%20Uzbekistan%202019%20%E2%80%93%20Khiva%20EasternWall.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Uzbekistan (November, 2019) – I still have flashbacks and glorious dreams calling me back to the ancient fortified city. With our travel in Central Asia; occurring outside the typical touristy times of the year, we appeared to have the benefit of minimal wayfarers and the freedom to roam. After spending the day driving the famed Silk Route; our arrival in Khiva felt surreal. We wandered up to the Hotel's roof to catch a glimpse of the setting sun against the eastern wall of the wondrous Itchen Kala before heading out to explore a little further before total darkness.</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-12993024785908820862023-12-10T11:00:00.000-08:002023-12-17T07:59:30.108-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKDjyHiibJOIcVcRgE1lUgFFHpAPv69T44yL1FsQ5WyeMsqdc-6x906ihyphenhyphenYhZ9o-9FhdN7bfCvRsAbBCCQqSLvSRuF_muTNzYWXfn1gqN0gllvfeyed7riKfTbYNsJn3kBsPlnYLZNGr2kOpf7UXEEHi4PHY7MqDvTBa3QQScYHw1UTwjVIC0yfAQyz0/s1500/AP%20Tu%CC%88rkiye%202019%20%E2%80%93%20D47660.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKDjyHiibJOIcVcRgE1lUgFFHpAPv69T44yL1FsQ5WyeMsqdc-6x906ihyphenhyphenYhZ9o-9FhdN7bfCvRsAbBCCQqSLvSRuF_muTNzYWXfn1gqN0gllvfeyed7riKfTbYNsJn3kBsPlnYLZNGr2kOpf7UXEEHi4PHY7MqDvTBa3QQScYHw1UTwjVIC0yfAQyz0/s320/AP%20Tu%CC%88rkiye%202019%20%E2%80%93%20D47660.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">Türkiye (November, 2019) – We navigated the Hagia Sophia with extreme enthusiasm, as it is part of my great silkroad bucket list. The combination of architectural styles and varying religious motifs from a number of bygone eras is the precise area of interest... the migration of spiritual beliefs and practices. The museum that we visited had a spiritual energy which felt open and respectful of its mercurial history. Alas the museum </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">has been transformed again into an active religious site. </span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-21716316832094730272023-12-03T08:08:00.000-08:002023-12-03T08:09:05.252-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3Cw3Y48WQYnReXgkiO_VUXPs_sPlNMpkjz3TIxW_r2tOFirHCXHCkSW3L3PfoAaEiS0hdqcQSQjbAxfFmch7ZAOfW5V2N40R-xLaFULP0M_Co5VIsKqhyphenhyphen072If3Z-bhf0bD1Hzh6tIs0U3wONXQ7zef1_4oT8mJQZBga8Vf1kUm8yLc-YQSIF0wYhzM/s1500/AP%20India%202017%20%E2%80%93%20SarkarBazar-FishCurry.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3Cw3Y48WQYnReXgkiO_VUXPs_sPlNMpkjz3TIxW_r2tOFirHCXHCkSW3L3PfoAaEiS0hdqcQSQjbAxfFmch7ZAOfW5V2N40R-xLaFULP0M_Co5VIsKqhyphenhyphen072If3Z-bhf0bD1Hzh6tIs0U3wONXQ7zef1_4oT8mJQZBga8Vf1kUm8yLc-YQSIF0wYhzM/s320/AP%20India%202017%20%E2%80%93%20SarkarBazar-FishCurry.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">India (January, 2017) – Days before my departure; the family reassembled for a joint pre-wedding ritual for a bride and a first rice ceremony for a tiny-tot. As with most cultures, food is an essential part of the ritual process, for Bengali's this means fish curry. Out on the back patio-garden, a multitude of family hands each contributed some effort into preparing a portion of the festive meal.</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-90896651143606887872023-11-25T21:45:00.000-08:002023-11-25T21:47:25.000-08:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEJne8_xZ5bWcyDWKjfqtL8PB9k3JbZL3vPCcZvAF2G_-aFJoxpVZWFnLGAEhxfurK2tNIxcjz_OKW6huzHSfvbRYHRO21WdP2_9jIayMaCijV_dUqljAGESPuyqkJKIGYz8pjn3-21OtUVLuqXah0eW7UHHC7M_pjYqFHoFzk1-pGygtJlaRvp9H_byE/s1500/AP%20France%202014%20-%20Natural%20History%20Stairs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEJne8_xZ5bWcyDWKjfqtL8PB9k3JbZL3vPCcZvAF2G_-aFJoxpVZWFnLGAEhxfurK2tNIxcjz_OKW6huzHSfvbRYHRO21WdP2_9jIayMaCijV_dUqljAGESPuyqkJKIGYz8pjn3-21OtUVLuqXah0eW7UHHC7M_pjYqFHoFzk1-pGygtJlaRvp9H_byE/s320/AP%20France%202014%20-%20Natural%20History%20Stairs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">France (September, 2014) – We spent a nice part of the afternoon rambling around the Jardin des Plantes, including exploration inside several of the glorious galleries. The light cast through the ornate staircase railing was my little moment of mental repose, while my mind attempted to digest the paleontological and comparative anatomical wonders I had just encountered.</span></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-27972916942974674492023-11-12T11:47:00.000-08:002023-11-12T11:57:06.090-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeCP9X1MOx5axYaui_coECtamw44klwp_cRPTgXjnFHjJaaP2wmIySuolvSY6ihMhsfl8QB8viQW4OUMDqM0PyILMuohlFndqIPBn-B_VLCgVcBCZZov8-ujwtW3P5poeepPsMDxzTpSYICZtLz5upezcregKG7ymNu1puqbunesholuL0UpBbhdBuY1M/s1500/AP%20Morocco%202014%20%E2%80%93%20Marrakesh%20GoldenGate.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeCP9X1MOx5axYaui_coECtamw44klwp_cRPTgXjnFHjJaaP2wmIySuolvSY6ihMhsfl8QB8viQW4OUMDqM0PyILMuohlFndqIPBn-B_VLCgVcBCZZov8-ujwtW3P5poeepPsMDxzTpSYICZtLz5upezcregKG7ymNu1puqbunesholuL0UpBbhdBuY1M/s320/AP%20Morocco%202014%20%E2%80%93%20Marrakesh%20GoldenGate.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Morocco (September, 2014) – We escaped the Medina for a jaunt into a more modern take on Marrakesh. My memory recalls how unexpectedly the glorious sun refracted the metallic surfaces, set against a terracotta colour scheme. Away from the bright mosaics and intricate carpets, the large handworked doorways are a marvel discovery - evidently more pronounced with the dimming of the light.</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-37424650664841275082023-11-05T11:33:00.005-08:002023-11-05T11:33:26.064-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5JMGCUKvmjT2RjLNbSrmobEopbQP6I39AoGe0OOrHRn8N1y_13JQPGJx-fN5OkEzYwtmDSiQaDTegFyEDdjx5Qlto73AM9HGgz4heZNGsQQz8jP11fkNuR2Xgag9WJc0z7uHiLokVJXV8XlXixD6p2CqwajHWceFQYlHWxZiTXBo0xPvgYUJU0mW-KAw/s1500/AP%20T%C3%BCrkiye%202019%20%E2%80%93%20D0092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5JMGCUKvmjT2RjLNbSrmobEopbQP6I39AoGe0OOrHRn8N1y_13JQPGJx-fN5OkEzYwtmDSiQaDTegFyEDdjx5Qlto73AM9HGgz4heZNGsQQz8jP11fkNuR2Xgag9WJc0z7uHiLokVJXV8XlXixD6p2CqwajHWceFQYlHWxZiTXBo0xPvgYUJU0mW-KAw/s320/AP%20T%C3%BCrkiye%202019%20%E2%80%93%20D0092.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Türkiye (November, 2019) – We skirted around Istanbul for 36 hours between flights, after a month in Central Asia. The short sejour clearly wasn't enough time to see the city, or overindulge in the culinary delights. We did however have a great time meandering around some of the historical Ottoman sites. We passed the beautiful Fountain of Ahmed III several times, each time it had a different feel and a different pull due to the reflections of light.</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-43206076002132114142023-10-29T11:35:00.003-07:002023-11-12T11:52:18.170-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTOXuvIPw-4pkt6XmBpMa24lqOA6vy5R8eSU9z65rS4RWDUT7E6f49_ZZ2kmWyNrnMuY2HFZQ0m-nxJh9AbEV_koBA-BGtuNGeaBVNjlIjtQt2dHz23NHVzX_jk6RYoW_Yw3Gf28MMC_SccBFpNOOGzFYUy6Gxq5-ensxoanZpsj-eqMUWuFVADTsjPHk/s1500/AP%20Uzbekistan%202019%20%E2%80%93%20D0248%20MN%20Khiva.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTOXuvIPw-4pkt6XmBpMa24lqOA6vy5R8eSU9z65rS4RWDUT7E6f49_ZZ2kmWyNrnMuY2HFZQ0m-nxJh9AbEV_koBA-BGtuNGeaBVNjlIjtQt2dHz23NHVzX_jk6RYoW_Yw3Gf28MMC_SccBFpNOOGzFYUy6Gxq5-ensxoanZpsj-eqMUWuFVADTsjPHk/s320/AP%20Uzbekistan%202019%20%E2%80%93%20D0248%20MN%20Khiva.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Uzbekistan (November, 2019) – We arrived in Khiva, while the diminutive light started lowering on the horizon. Before losing all light we set out for a jaunt, trying to take in as much before settling in for the night. On my wander around in admiration of the colourful mosaic tiles with varying hues of greens and turquoise, I discovered a curious photographer with his gilded gold chair. It took a few days to convince the matriarch to let me immortalize her moment with a super touristy snapshot next to the Kalta Minor Minaret. Looking back at the costume and resisting expression, still makes me laugh. </span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-60356360269500564662023-10-22T07:48:00.003-07:002023-10-22T07:48:44.237-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKnFGq7hQDlfPU3EnkssXTctCzJj-K7wsrUSGYcB8WWVbczeToA2j57RHp0-kGRoTBkawmqkXcspZZl3OKVS1aQOCTtyQdRlW7L9IJIQ9-q3m0GeLXBJ3HO6yhCJXXtEJsXHqjz3II6fZd-zz7DEoffvL3hKCl3CLXgMdQyAKuaDnkLSJjAz-m9G1iBRM/s1500/AP%20Canada%202023%20%E2%80%93%20Ravana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKnFGq7hQDlfPU3EnkssXTctCzJj-K7wsrUSGYcB8WWVbczeToA2j57RHp0-kGRoTBkawmqkXcspZZl3OKVS1aQOCTtyQdRlW7L9IJIQ9-q3m0GeLXBJ3HO6yhCJXXtEJsXHqjz3II6fZd-zz7DEoffvL3hKCl3CLXgMdQyAKuaDnkLSJjAz-m9G1iBRM/s320/AP%20Canada%202023%20%E2%80%93%20Ravana.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Canada (October, 2023) – By complete happenstance; our weekend excursion led us to see Ravana being assembled for detonation next month. The smallest of our platoon members seemed most excited at getting closer to the demonic character, completely distracted from the prideful squadron of Canadian geese grazing about.</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-57141849867165929902023-10-15T07:29:00.002-07:002023-10-15T14:31:09.562-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCY6UJBGVnnwphPdlqFeMxa_VXUX61TZQPdiXtlU8bJ7VMQSur3XWAUFywrhokSpya230c2snxVnoiF876C8zt2FNCnuFPAGhYJ5CQD6kCx2IGdfuRejl0U7CUhPGBv3vbFwTgfejStmcJ6dH1_GHmGVj0jEcgGumh4rO-iBnbDR77CX5FkYyHxdjyN1I/s1500/AP%20Madagascar%202010%20%E2%80%93%20DesertMorondava.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCY6UJBGVnnwphPdlqFeMxa_VXUX61TZQPdiXtlU8bJ7VMQSur3XWAUFywrhokSpya230c2snxVnoiF876C8zt2FNCnuFPAGhYJ5CQD6kCx2IGdfuRejl0U7CUhPGBv3vbFwTgfejStmcJ6dH1_GHmGVj0jEcgGumh4rO-iBnbDR77CX5FkYyHxdjyN1I/s320/AP%20Madagascar%202010%20%E2%80%93%20DesertMorondava.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Madagascar (March, 2010) – After several days driving back westwards across the formidable island. Through various landscapes, I was keenly aware that the jungle island of the past was but a memory. The roaring engine passed through cultivated lands, desertscapes, lush canyons and mud flats. Eventually, we started to see a speckling of Boabab trees, marking our destination point.</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-51647406039510106442023-10-08T08:57:00.000-07:002023-10-08T08:57:06.538-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4CHkUBukY_JfWb6deH4_RYbtt6rMlCS1muBowkrmLBKG36e4UPpzv1sf5H2jif5eoA-Fz6-h476ZRDP9fPQXd1mvlXkPXyXHAu2GNyLGIuz5W6M59WZW6UWJ0QvU6qa-mKTbIR0eJpefsxZfBJIolDPJuezUUUT2g_IcEwLUizhRo6Ot2g4lWY3t9fyA/s1500/AP%20USA%202000%20%E2%80%93%20MonumentValley_Dunes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4CHkUBukY_JfWb6deH4_RYbtt6rMlCS1muBowkrmLBKG36e4UPpzv1sf5H2jif5eoA-Fz6-h476ZRDP9fPQXd1mvlXkPXyXHAu2GNyLGIuz5W6M59WZW6UWJ0QvU6qa-mKTbIR0eJpefsxZfBJIolDPJuezUUUT2g_IcEwLUizhRo6Ot2g4lWY3t9fyA/s320/AP%20USA%202000%20%E2%80%93%20MonumentValley_Dunes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">USA (November, 2000) – We emerged to a beautiful sunrise view including a dusting of snow with fresh coyote tracks. The enchantments continued as we pereginated around Monument Valley. Our Navajo chaperon guided us through the sacred lands, beyond the typical sandstone mittens. The expedition took us to lesser known, yet no-less bewitching locations. </span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-35891446410123634422023-09-30T17:51:00.000-07:002023-09-30T17:51:21.380-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZA3FFzFtjOgDBdT8Qm3zrPM__ykZvaIZ3EDbFYiBAAmceF-buqmU47bbyKujFaNBzeBLRZ2FDaEZnilGaRf9C_y2ERk7QBw1xwJ1DOPHqyPRVOXhyL4As20Wy5bohtkjxq5HN7b6z86e5IYfXwxC0nVglp-hPXuJoyoy2HvTw_R340z_Y_IdT7toyLE/s1500/AP%20USA%202000%20%E2%80%93%20CanyonDeChelly%20AZ_Cliff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZA3FFzFtjOgDBdT8Qm3zrPM__ykZvaIZ3EDbFYiBAAmceF-buqmU47bbyKujFaNBzeBLRZ2FDaEZnilGaRf9C_y2ERk7QBw1xwJ1DOPHqyPRVOXhyL4As20Wy5bohtkjxq5HN7b6z86e5IYfXwxC0nVglp-hPXuJoyoy2HvTw_R340z_Y_IdT7toyLE/s320/AP%20USA%202000%20%E2%80%93%20CanyonDeChelly%20AZ_Cliff.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">USA (November, 2000) – Looking up the sandstone-walls, we observed the ancestral puebloan cliff dwellings and clusters of various sized petroglyphs depicting auspicious symbols that radiate the imagination. Often enough the natural environment holds an energy, in Canyon de Chelly that energy overwhelms the rational mind. </span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I reflect on truth and reconciliation; I recognize the need to demonstrate more gratitude, more appreciation and more conservation of the land and its traditions.</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-69196266332170697432023-09-24T08:41:00.001-07:002023-09-25T10:36:09.763-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBXYqvkIVWoVMKEEld_vV7IU_dJ2BWHzu2MG4u8cEN0KwT8O_GcZOdXbKhKy_n0kK34LTGPTrSe94eGFYK5zduIcPlQTNkso8VLaOzI6G6fVEGMELTybK42SKr53y1neWe44Eo8RjNyn4b2FG2xrGM9qemS1X3gLTZXWUTasyV5tSkQuTXucr3HrOBjg/s1500/AP%20USA%202000%20%E2%80%93%20SaltLake.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBXYqvkIVWoVMKEEld_vV7IU_dJ2BWHzu2MG4u8cEN0KwT8O_GcZOdXbKhKy_n0kK34LTGPTrSe94eGFYK5zduIcPlQTNkso8VLaOzI6G6fVEGMELTybK42SKr53y1neWe44Eo8RjNyn4b2FG2xrGM9qemS1X3gLTZXWUTasyV5tSkQuTXucr3HrOBjg/s320/AP%20USA%202000%20%E2%80%93%20SaltLake.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">USA (November, 2000) – Instead of freaking out, I meandered around taking a few photographs of the mesmermizing desertscape and a dessicated cluster of cacti.</span><span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">I am not a stormchaser, but on our way to Zion, even with evidence of darkness fast approaching, we gleefully watched the threat approach. As concrete jungle Canadians, we spent the next few days out of our element, desert driving under the snow... It was magical!</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4501801017543780978.post-40292695321098350302023-09-17T11:44:00.002-07:002023-09-17T11:44:10.289-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirDkkHnPpIY4IzZsyZMaKirxYii9I2LiGG8aVB-BwSGSqsJwGUR4n1wOLC_-XWIU7F1w1XLfcLhJm1ldPbE_OnnkBd7heg93JVDNDKh7qCOdw0MazOm5TmXC7wkfCyEYTXlQdYT2fm8L_LDUtHcp86lG6Q_9h7NDl3Xab7lcdPve24_LyDjpAkiisM5E4/s1500/AP%20Madagascar%202010%20%E2%80%93%20TravellersPalm2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirDkkHnPpIY4IzZsyZMaKirxYii9I2LiGG8aVB-BwSGSqsJwGUR4n1wOLC_-XWIU7F1w1XLfcLhJm1ldPbE_OnnkBd7heg93JVDNDKh7qCOdw0MazOm5TmXC7wkfCyEYTXlQdYT2fm8L_LDUtHcp86lG6Q_9h7NDl3Xab7lcdPve24_LyDjpAkiisM5E4/s320/AP%20Madagascar%202010%20%E2%80%93%20TravellersPalm2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Madagascar (March, 2010) – The drive from Fianarantsoa was quite lovely. Winding our way down between the hills of cultivated farmland: vertical rice patty's, corn and cassava plantations. At some point we hit a bend in the road; my immediate reaction was hailing for the car to stop. As before us was a majestic traveller's palm (and a group of children presumably on their way from school). Incidentally while I was off getting a few shots of the glorious palm tree, my travel companion was bullied by a snake. The unintended pit-stop provided an animated reaction that set the childish gaggle into a state of suspended amusement.</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0