I enjoy independent travel. Serendipity, and my trusty and handy aim-and-snap digicam, are my constant companions. This is a photoblog of places I have visited, and people I have met.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Bangkok, Thailand, 13-15 February 2006: Dancers Human And Vehicular
Gracing a supermarket Valentine's Day promotion, colourful folk dancers performed to an appreciative lunchtime street crowd, the soles of their bare feet impervious to the blistering heat of the baked pavement. At the Chatuchak station, lines of people snaked their way to the bazaar, engaging in a sinuous tango with the long chain of buses that stretched interminably into the horizon.
Stockholm, Sweden, 29 Aug - 8 Sep 2005: Scandinavian Beauties Stockholm And Uppsala
Stockholm is an archipelago made up of thousands of islands. Diverse seacrafts berth along the island shores - shifting silhouettes that frame the shimmering golden glow of the famed waterfront at sunset.
Handsome townhouses line the maze of tiny streets and alleys of the Gamla Stan. Along the coast of Kungsholmen, site of former royal palace quarters, stately mansions bask in the afternoon sun, gleaming rich hues of autumnal gold and red against a cobalt sky.
An hour's train ride away from Stockholm, Uppsala town boasts a renowned university. August town icons, the Domkyrkan and Uppsala Slott stand in narcissistic revelry, meditating on their own reflections.
Beijing, China, 16-19 February 2006: Da Zha Lan Hutong Life And Scenes
Shuan Yang Rou or Mongolian hotpot of thinly-sliced lamb, is a perennial Beijing favourite on cold winter nights. In this neighbourhood restaurant in Da Zha Lan, the proprietors' toddler son Xiaoxi ('little happiness') entertained dinner guests with his antics. While daddy busied in the kitchen and mummy waited, gregarious Xiaoxi cajoled for savoury lamb morsels from the patrons. Roundly chastised by a harried mummy and threatened with 'ma ma da pi gu' ('mummy's gonna smack your bottom'), he bawled hot tears. The sorrow was however short-lived. He soon burst into spontaneous laughter as mummy looked on approvingly with obvious joy and pride.
A little southwest of Tiananmen Square, Da Zha Lan is a labyrinth of streets lined with old-style Beijing hutong housing. Extant since the Ming dynasty, the hutong is fast disappearing as entire neighbourhoods are gouged out and functional edifices erected in place. Many residents depend on coal for heating and cooking, adding to the infamous city pollution. Coal fuel, often found stacked neatly outside doorways, are sold by itinerant peddlars who ferry their considerable loads somewhat precariously on bicycle trolleys.
This Moslem street chef hawked halal pancakes with chilli paste, freshly-cracked egg, spring onions, and crispy beancurd wafer filling. You would make an order and place your money on a tray near the gridle. The man then carefully handled the bills and change by means of a strategically-held tweezer, all the time scrupulously keeping his hands untainted. Costing 2 yuans each, these pancakes made for a scrumptious breakfast.
Zhongsan Park, just west of the Imperial Palace, was an oasis of quiet from the madding tourist crowds. From here, the external walls of the Forbidden City glowed amber as the dying sunset rays slid across the glistening frozen moat.
Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, 2-5 April 2006:Viet Vibes First Impressions
I love Vietnam. The food is great, and the street life is the liveliest. I chanced upon this pair of ladies on a sidestreet (I did not know where, being blissfully and gleefully lost). The young lady was shaving the densely powdered face of the other with a naked razor blade. The grace and taut posture of the former - especially the well-turned left ankle - befits a classical ballerina. They both laughed softly when they discovered me taking their photo. The older woman cupped her face with both hands like a chastened maiden.
The dark and cool interior of the nail salon provided a respite from the blazing afternoon sun. This young manicurist was the perfect embodiment of Vietnamese serenity and beauty. She gazed intently as she gingerly trimmed the nails, her mouth occasionally breaking into a hesitant smile.
Motorcyclists rule the roads in Ho Chi Minh City. They ride as a pack, but will miraculously part and weave around you when you walk across the road. Pillon-riding on motocycle 'taxis' is a cheap and exhilirating way to get about town. However, be forewarned: helmets are neither required nor provided.
Tagaytay, Philippines, 7-9 April 2006: Taal Vista Sleeping Volcano And Resort
I fly into Manila noon, Friday. The car ride to Tagaytay is a good 2 hours' battle through the notorious thick city traffic. It is made dizzyingly longer by the interminable bumps along the way. Relief, however, is sweet at journey's end.
Tagaytay is a resort town built on the rim of a volcanic crater that holds a lake with yet another sporadically active volcanic cone within. The latter is veiled by a pall of mist that appears to hang over the lake year-round, except during the driest of high summer months. The view of the lake from the terrace of the Taal Vista Hotel is stupendous.
Taking a short morning walk from the hotel, I find myself in a village. Zinc-roofed huts and narrow walking paths of well-trodden earth form a haphazard labyrinth, from which the occasional denizen emerges, sometimes with startled timidness, but mostly with studied indifference.
The tranquility is broken abruptly by a cacophony of multi-colour balloon-decorated jeepneys. They are a gay, glorious and godly Church-going procession. For today is Palm Sunday.
Davos, Switzerland, 24-26 June 2005: Wanderer Fantasy Lake, Mountains And Valleys
Hiking through the valleys, one takes in the full measure of Mother Nature's bounty: azure skies, cottony clouds, distant snow-capped mountain ranges, emerald prairies, and rippling streams. Shade from adjoining hills cooled and refreshed the air. The senses bristled alive to the assault of dappled colours, cold stillness that shot up the nose, and tinkling of rushing rivulets.
We ascended Jakobshorn on a cable car. After which, it was a short but relatively tough climb (for me) along the spine of the mountain to the peak (slightly over 4000m above sea level). The view of the Swiss Alps from the top was breath-taking.
It was a lovely trip. I wish to return some day. Perhaps in winter next time.
Stockholm is an archipelago made up of thousands of islands. Diverse seacrafts berth along the island shores - shifting silhouettes that frame the shimmering golden glow of the famed waterfront at sunset.
Handsome townhouses line the maze of tiny streets and alleys of the Gamla Stan. Along the coast of Kungsholmen, site of former royal palace quarters, stately mansions bask in the afternoon sun, gleaming rich hues of autumnal gold and red against a cobalt sky.
An hour's train ride away from Stockholm, Uppsala town boasts a renowned university. August town icons, the Domkyrkan and Uppsala Slott stand in narcissistic revelry, meditating on their own reflections.
Shuan Yang Rou or Mongolian hotpot of thinly-sliced lamb, is a perennial Beijing favourite on cold winter nights. In this neighbourhood restaurant in Da Zha Lan, the proprietors' toddler son Xiaoxi ('little happiness') entertained dinner guests with his antics. While daddy busied in the kitchen and mummy waited, gregarious Xiaoxi cajoled for savoury lamb morsels from the patrons. Roundly chastised by a harried mummy and threatened with 'ma ma da pi gu' ('mummy's gonna smack your bottom'), he bawled hot tears. The sorrow was however short-lived. He soon burst into spontaneous laughter as mummy looked on approvingly with obvious joy and pride.
A little southwest of Tiananmen Square, Da Zha Lan is a labyrinth of streets lined with old-style Beijing hutong housing. Extant since the Ming dynasty, the hutong is fast disappearing as entire neighbourhoods are gouged out and functional edifices erected in place. Many residents depend on coal for heating and cooking, adding to the infamous city pollution. Coal fuel, often found stacked neatly outside doorways, are sold by itinerant peddlars who ferry their considerable loads somewhat precariously on bicycle trolleys.
This Moslem street chef hawked halal pancakes with chilli paste, freshly-cracked egg, spring onions, and crispy beancurd wafer filling. You would make an order and place your money on a tray near the gridle. The man then carefully handled the bills and change by means of a strategically-held tweezer, all the time scrupulously keeping his hands untainted. Costing 2 yuans each, these pancakes made for a scrumptious breakfast.
I love Vietnam. The food is great, and the street life is the liveliest. I chanced upon this pair of ladies on a sidestreet (I did not know where, being blissfully and gleefully lost). The young lady was shaving the densely powdered face of the other with a naked razor blade. The grace and taut posture of the former - especially the well-turned left ankle - befits a classical ballerina. They both laughed softly when they discovered me taking their photo. The older woman cupped her face with both hands like a chastened maiden.
The dark and cool interior of the nail salon provided a respite from the blazing afternoon sun. This young manicurist was the perfect embodiment of Vietnamese serenity and beauty. She gazed intently as she gingerly trimmed the nails, her mouth occasionally breaking into a hesitant smile.
Motorcyclists rule the roads in Ho Chi Minh City. They ride as a pack, but will miraculously part and weave around you when you walk across the road. Pillon-riding on motocycle 'taxis' is a cheap and exhilirating way to get about town. However, be forewarned: helmets are neither required nor provided.
I fly into Manila noon, Friday. The car ride to Tagaytay is a good 2 hours' battle through the notorious thick city traffic. It is made dizzyingly longer by the interminable bumps along the way. Relief, however, is sweet at journey's end.
Tagaytay is a resort town built on the rim of a volcanic crater that holds a lake with yet another sporadically active volcanic cone within. The latter is veiled by a pall of mist that appears to hang over the lake year-round, except during the driest of high summer months. The view of the lake from the terrace of the Taal Vista Hotel is stupendous.
Taking a short morning walk from the hotel, I find myself in a village. Zinc-roofed huts and narrow walking paths of well-trodden earth form a haphazard labyrinth, from which the occasional denizen emerges, sometimes with startled timidness, but mostly with studied indifference.
The tranquility is broken abruptly by a cacophony of multi-colour balloon-decorated jeepneys. They are a gay, glorious and godly Church-going procession. For today is Palm Sunday.
Hiking through the valleys, one takes in the full measure of Mother Nature's bounty: azure skies, cottony clouds, distant snow-capped mountain ranges, emerald prairies, and rippling streams. Shade from adjoining hills cooled and refreshed the air. The senses bristled alive to the assault of dappled colours, cold stillness that shot up the nose, and tinkling of rushing rivulets.
We ascended Jakobshorn on a cable car. After which, it was a short but relatively tough climb (for me) along the spine of the mountain to the peak (slightly over 4000m above sea level). The view of the Swiss Alps from the top was breath-taking.
