I peered into the water, edging closer to study the colours. A deep, dark blue bled into purple, which blended into a blood-red that faded into a vibrant yellow at my feet. It was strangely reminiscent of Microsoft Powerpoint gradient images. Around me a wall of stone was slowly crumbling into the rainbow lake at its heart. A mossy green crept around the fragmented stones. I shook my head. It’s strange to know that biology is not the source of this vibrant scene. Continue reading
The meadow was bathed with sunlight. The grass tickled as I wiggled to wake up my legs. A trimmed lawn enclosed by sharply shaped hedges stretched out from my feet. The landscaping was as neat as the facial-hair sculpting on hipsters. I marveled at the sheer manpower this scene must have demanded. Someone would have had to mow lawns, cut the hedges, trim the trees, organized the gardens, cleared the paths and washed the bizarre urns scattered about the property. Then this team would have had to wrestled back nature again. And again. And again. What kind of awesome power could possibly maintain this idyllic sanctuary?
I leaned back. Ah yes. Money.
So how was I lounging on a rich man’s lawn? Read on dear visitor, read on. Continue reading
Wow. Were medieval rooms really this… colourful? I tipped my head quizzically, as though I thought a new angle would correct what spread before me. Vibrant red, blue and gold encircled the room. It hung from the walls, sprawled across the floor and extended toward me on islands of furniture.
“Colour was expensive. Only the homes of nobles and royalty would have been adorned in these rich colours,” my partner, J, said over my shoulder.
And yet, right then, vibrancy floated freely around the room on the backs of the modern visitors to this medieval scene.
When it comes to describing the pristine landscapes of foreign hotspots one can’t help but use the same words as a vacation pamphlet: sun, nature, peaceful, vast, monumental and exotic. These words brimmed over the valley walls surrounding the village of Masca and my lips ached to whisper them. I swallowed and looked harder.
Precarious. Stubborn. A stronghold. I saw a landlocked ship among the geo-waves. Hidden among the giant crests, a green ark rested for eternity, carrying a small clutch of humanity and gardens. At its prow, an imposing figure proclaimed the direction to the sea. Is this the ribbed turtle that carries the world upon its back?
“EEEEEEEE it’s here!” I squealed with glee, tearing at the packaging so I could get my hands on the camera encapsulated within. After a minute of struggle it was free and I held it up in my palm for inspection.
This video camera would be my ticket to a new medium and a chance to share experiences where using my Canon camera wasn’t feasible.I could attach it to my helmet, my bike and a headband. Plus it fit in my pocket.
Tenerife In HD is the first video I’ve created with my new Contour Roam 3. There will be more to come on each of the places I visited in the video (fabulous photos and stories of course)!
I love sitting by the window in airplanes. Why? Well there’s often so much to see! I’ve watched the moon rise over a rolling sea of clouds, I’ve seen stars shed miles of atmosphere and sprawling cities blend into a lake of light. I’ve passed over frozen exhaust trails from long-gone jets—a series of floating roads in the sky—and marveled over massive mountain ranges scaring the earth’s surface.
This time I found myself entranced by the mountain dominating a harsh cloud-island. It invoked thoughts of Mount Olympus, home of the Greek gods. At first only a smudge revealed any sign of its presence. Then as the plane closed in to land the mountain loomed out of the haze. “Welcome to Tenerife,” boomed Mount Teide, from under its snow-capped crown.
Skidding on the loose soil I wobbled, flapping my arms to regain balance. Just a meter ahead of me my sister carried on upwards ignoring my bleating while jolting infrequently through her own noodle dance. After a few seconds I successfully fought off gravity’s affection and managed to acquire the proper vertical position once more. The last few steps to the top were simple, but I still had to chase my breath. Overhead the blue dome sky stretched on to forever. The clouds seemed to reach out from infinity. As the eternal hills and silent river posed for my eyes the trees continued their seasonal wardrobe change without pause.
Growing up, whenever my friends, family and I spotted people excitedly pointing and nattering over cows along the highways we’d break into giggles.
There’d be a car parked on the edge of the road and a group or pair of folks gawking at the livestock over the fence. Eyes would be wide, lips tapping out a frenzied speech and heads whipping side to side as the people glanced from their friends to the exotic beasts before them. Cameras were brought to bear to capture this explicit experience of authentic Canadian prairie wilderness.
Now I suppose I should retire passing judgment on cattle sightseers, since I collect stone churches myself.
As we approached the intricate hollow mountain, singing from its sheltered souls echoed through the vaulted entryway. I stepped back to take in the enormity of the cathedral. Its arches and towers stretched into the sky. Everything seemed focused upward. All the building could comprehend was height.
My eyes wandered back to earth as my feet pulled me through the gate, but they were soon pulled skyward again as the inner walls raced toward the heavens. Lost in amazement I almost didn’t notice my boyfriend tug on my hand. He tilted his head toward a small inconspicuous sign by the entrance to the inner chamber.
Visitors are not allowed to enter the chamber due to service after 4:00 p.m. You are welcome to join the service.
It was 5 p.m.
So just like that this sheep got stuck at the cattle gate.
Gliding up to the first of the three large exhibition halls I lightly stepped off the escalator and walked to the edge of the floor. My fingers gripped the railing as I leaned out over the soup of noise simmering below. The floor fell away into a neat crater revealing five floors below and two above. The building seemed to be designed just to encase the empty gulf. Perhaps the architecture was an attempt to leave room for all the sizzling thoughts and ideas bubbling up from below.
It is a capsule. A cathedral. A bomb shelter and haven for modern Thai artists. Hungrily nabbing my mental spoon I spun away from the edge rubbing my hands in delight. It was time to gobble through another five-course meal of social commentary and artistry.