Photography

Anyone who knows me, is aware that I am having a hot and steamy love affair with my camera. So, taking a lead from Ulco's photo of the day idea, (click here and then click on "1per24" in the menu to see them...) I have decided to start a new blog, that just focuses on two of my favorite subjects, photography and me, or more accurately, my photography.

Don't worry, I am not posting albums and gobs of images everyday, just the ones I really love and enjoy for one reason or other, and I will write a little about each image, like where it was taken, why I shot it or what I like about it. I will try to post one each day, but as I am not disciplined enough for that, and I don't always have the internet to do that, I can't commit...

The look of the blog is still kind of under construction, but stop by, check it out and let me know what you think...

A New Beginning

After a fantastic and amazing time in Amritsar and McLeod Ganj, I am back in Delhi and Ulco is en route to St. Petersburg after a few days stop over in Dubai. I myself, am facing what is one of the most exciting times in my life and have that feeling, and the knowledge, that I am on the edge of something big, HUGE, happening.

It all started back in June. After months and months of not working and going through an almost paralyzing depression, I decided to leave India. I had spent months applying for jobs, registering on sites and nothing at all came of it. When the list of the top ten worst places in the world to live was released, I was desperate enough to apply in all those countries. Still, nothing happened. Not even a single response. I hadn’t looked for a job since I was in my early twenties. They came looking for me, and suddenly I could not even get a simple reply. There was nothing here for me anymore and there was no light on the horizon. Manuel was going back to Scotland and I could not watch my bank account go down anymore. In all honestly, there wasn’t any lower it could get. I decided I was going to go back to the US and since the recession was in full swing, take whatever job I could get and go back to school taking classes in creative writing, photography or anything else along those lines.

Then I got a call from the ad agency that had brought me to India in the fist place asking if I would be willing to go back to work for three months. I didn’t want to do it, but it was a job and a job meant cash so I said yes. In less than a week I found a place to live, moved and started my temporary job. Two weeks into my job, the client I was working on decided they didn’t want any temporary people, or more precisely, foreigners, on their account as of the first of August. Three months of salary quickly became one month and all I had done was bought myself another month or so in India only to find myself once again unemployed and with an uncertain future.

I decided to take a bit of advantage of the situation. I had been in Thailand in February and had found it amazingly inexpensive, more so than India, even. I decided I would take a few months and travel around Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam, writing and taking pictures for some magazines. I contacted a few people I knew at some publications and they liked the idea. Little did I know, but I had put into motion something larger than I could have imagined at the time. My little idea of traveling and writing for some magazines has become a twice weekly television program. We are on the verge of getting endorsed by a highly reputable tourism focused company in India that will open all the other necessary doors for us. The first two episodes are scripted out and it is all moving forward. Hopefully we will start shooting in October. I can’t go into details yet, but it is an original concept that has not yet been done before. I will keep you all posted.

In addition to that, I was asked to audition for a movie and have heard it went really well. I haven’t heard back an official “yes” yet, but as of now it is looking very positive in my favor. It is a pretty big role in a film set to shoot in November. Suddenly it seems that everything I wanted so many years ago and never really stopped dreaming about is all knocking on my door. I have a hard time comprehending it might actually be here, my dreams, right here in front of me. If I think about it too much, I just want to laugh and cry and scream and shout. There are still a few hurdles to jump, but so far, not one person has been negative and has only added to the idea. I now find myself having to turn down ideas as I am only one hosting the show and there is only so much I can do.

On a side note, I am sitting at “The Living Room”, a restaurant I practically live at, typing all of this out. I was just interrupted by someone asking if I would be interested in being in a film shooting in a week. I said yes and now photos are on their way for someone to decide if I have the right hairline, cheekbones, coloring and look.

What I find interesting about all of this, is that whenever I try to do something lately that is not in the creative area, it goes all wrong. There are no positions, no funding, or an endless number of things get in the way. As soon as I put my attention into writing or acting, things work out effortlessly, they come to me, people cross my path and doors open. So I have taken it as a sign that this new shift in career is exactly where I need to be heading.

The other day, I was thinking about all of this and feeling a bit too old to be making a career change at my age, and one into film and television at that. But I was reading an old column of Dominick Dunne, one of my favorite writers at Vanity Fair and whose column was one of the first pieces I read each month. I have been reading him for as long as I can remember and he was one of the inspirations for me to start writing, but for some reason, I have never read one of his books. (Not to self: Get Dominick Dunne book) I was very surprised to learn that he didn’t start writing until he was 50. Not only that, he didn’t write for Vanity Fair until he was 59. 59! My fears of age were immediately and permanently tossed aside.

So it looks like the months ahead are going to be a rollercoaster of a time in the best possible way…

McLeod Ganj

I am sitting in the room of the hotel in front of the big window as the rain continues to pour down as it has done almost non-stop since something in the middle of the night. The windows are open and fresh, chilly mountain air pours in while the thunder booms and echoes all around. The view from where I am sitting is nothing but trees and cloudy skies. It all feels light years away from Delhi.

After Amritsar, Ulco decided he wanted to see some mountains and so we headed to McLeod Ganj, the home of the Dalai Lama. There were no trains and only one bus available from Amritsar to Dharamsala, which is just a few kilometers from McLeod Ganj. The journey was just over six hours on a bus that we were told was direct and would be making no stops, but in reality we stopped to pick up and drop off people all the time and one stop had us sitting at a station for about thirty minutes while peddlers flooded the bus with everything from coconuts to mango juice to plastic table clothes in a variety of colors and floral patterns. Our trip took just under seven hours and after getting the bus from Dharamsala to McLeod Ganj, we checked into the “only deluxe hotel” in the area.

I was here in April, when the Himalayas were covered in snow and the village of McLeod Ganj was quite busy, the streets quite crowded and noisy.  I wasn’t all that impressed and preferred the quiet calm of the village Naddi, where we stayed last time, an hour or so walk from McLeod Ganj through some beautiful scenery. This time, however, the streets are quiet. The place feels relaxed and almost deserted. The plan was to stay for one night and then head out, but we are staying for three. We pass the days having various teas in tiny cafes, taking walks and just enjoying the serenity of it all. The air is definitely chilly, today probably about 15 degrees (59 Fahrenheit) , a far cry from the high 30s and low to mid 40s (above 104 Fahrenheit) of that have been in Delhi the past few months.

Yesterday morning we walked to Bhagsu, just two or so kilometers away, to a waterfall Manuel and I had visited in April. Then it was barely more than a trickle, hardly worth the effort. Now, it is absolutely gushing and the path we walked over and the area we sat in then are now under the numbingly cold water. We took a path up to the top of the falls and just sat there taking in the view and the peace and the sound of the water while mountain goats watched us with suspicious eyes.

We made our way back down and headed into town, stopping along the river here and there for a drink or just to take in the view and nature. It was only cut short by the looming threat of the ever darkening clouds and the distant claps of thunder. We made it to Tsuglagkhang, the residence of the Dalai Lama, before it started to rain for a few minutes, then it took a break, long enough for us to walk back to the hotel and then it came pouring down.

In between the rain we do little walks. I took Ulco to Naddi, which offers much more expansive views of the Himalayas, but other than that, it is all about relaxing. I am reading “Freedom in Exile”, the autobiography of the Dalai Lama. It is a fascinating read and I highly recommend it. It is not a book about Buddhism, although his story and Buddhism are so intertwined that his story cannot be told without some inclusion. It is full of history and intrigue. I am now at the part where the Chinese Government has decided to take control of Tibet.

With McLeod Ganj being the head of the Tibetan Government in exile, the place is filled with refugees and obviously there are political messages everywhere about the state of affairs in Tibet. The first night here, Ulco and I met a twenty-four year old refugee at a restaurant who moved here when he was nine, separated from his family to live with an Uncle. He has seen them a few times since then, but cannot return to his country or he will be put in jail or worse. He dreams of going to the US or Canada to work in the mines. His entire life uncertain and so far from what I can imagine.

This was the perfect place to come after the Golden Temple and the entire trip has been completely relaxing, with the heavy rains even forcing us to slow down and just unwind. Tomorrow evening we head to Delhi, but until then there are books to read and cups of tea to drink. 

Amritsar

After years of saying he had absolutely no interest in traveling to India, Ulco is here for the second time in just under a year. Last year we spent two weeks traveling through Rajasthan and this time decided to do something different. I was going to plan something in advance, but a few days before he was scheduled to leave for India, Ulco informed me he had a cough, a sore throat and perhaps a fever, and as they are doing checks on swine flu upon arriving in India, it wasn’t entirely clear if Ulco was going to be coming or not. There was the possibility of a few days in quarantine if he was feverish and coughing upon arrival. But it turned out to be bronchitis and he arrived exactly on time.

This trip we decided to start in Amritsar and then decide where to go from there. The reason we chose Amritsar was for the Golden Temple, the holiest place for Sikhs. We also opted for the train and off we went to the New Delhi railway station to buy tickets for the 07:20 train the following morning. The only problem, which we discovered after traveling to the station was that tickets can only be bought for trains of the same day or we could make arrangements through the tourist desk which conveniently closed about four hours before we arrived. We had no choice then but to go to an agent who told and showed us that the train was sold out, but he could get us on the train using one of the quotas of tickets for tourists, military, VIP, etc. We put down a deposit and then picked up the tickets the next morning and discovered that the tickets were about two thousand rupees and the fee for the government approved travel agent was also around two thousand rupees. In any case, we ended up with seats on the train and pulled out at exactly 07:20 on Monday morning.

We arrived in Amritsar in the rain and grabbed a rickshaw to the Golden Temple where we would look for a guesthouse. On the train we had a bit of a discussion about where to stay. I wanted to stay at the Golden Temple itself, a place Lonely Planet describes as “more of an experience than a hotel”, but Ulco was not having it. He was being lured by the posters for the five-star hotel and tried to tempt me with ideas of massages and lingering by the pool after a swim. We settled on a guesthouse which was about fifty meters or so from the temple complex, checked in, had a quick lunch and made our way to the temple itself.

We checked our shoes, washed our feet and covered our heads with the touristy orange bandanas which read “Golden Temple” and soon, without any of the normal security checks that come with visiting almost any other place, we were inside the complex walking along the Parkarma, a marble walkway that borders the holy pool in which the temple itself seems to be floating. Prayers being said or maybe better put, sung by four priests inside the temple, filled the complex as people bathed in the holy waters or just sat next to the pool, some chatting with friends, some in meditation or lost in thought while others studies their scriptures and teachings. Guards in traditional uniforms strolled as well, making sure children behaved and giving directions or information.

The Golden Temple itself is reached from a causeway named “Gurus’ Bridge” and people are let inside in small-ish numbers. The line moved quite fast and there was very little pushing and shoving. In fact, I would have to say the whole experience at the temple was one of the most enjoyable I have had as a tourist in India. Nobody tried to sell us anything, nobody wanted money. Everyone wanted to talk with us, ask us questions and share about the temple, what we should see, the best times to visit and when to sit and stand during the prayers. We were made to feel so welcome and everyone was so genuinely nice. It was a far cry from Pushkar where we were conned within minutes of arriving, or Agra where the peddlers are worse than the mosquitoes. Even walking through the tiny and winding streets of the city, we had similar experiences. Children came up to us with hands held out for shaking and bight smiles everywhere. I hate to say it, but sometimes being in India, when someone is nice to you or comes up and wants to start a conversation, the first thought that goes through my head is “what do they want from me?” This was a completely unexpected pleasure.

We visited the temple complex several times, midday, sunset, sunrise, and each time it was just wonderful and different and relaxing and beautiful. I am so looking forward to going back one day very soon and just spending more time in such an amazing place.

Coming to India

The day I never actually thought would arrive has dawned. Ulco is coming to India. Years before I moved here, I suggested many times to Ulco that we should take a trip to India. The suggestion was usually met with silence, a stare, and then a not so subtle change of subject. India has never been on his list of places to visit, and more accurately, was probably near the top of places NOT to visit. But a few months ago he told me that he was going to be coming for a visit and I was both excited and nervous. I wanted to see him, but I just wasn’t sure I wanted to see him here, in Shah Jahan’s old town. My first instinct as to keep him somewhat isolated, visiting monuments during the day and keeping all of our lunches, teas, dinners and brunches at the Oberoi or the Imperial. But then I had another idea…

I have not taken any holiday time in India since I moved, and with the exception of a few weekend trips to places like Mumbai, Jaipur or Agra, I have not really seen anything of India. Even my first trip to India 12 or so years ago was pretty limited. Trains took forever, if they showed up at all and only really visited Delhi, Agra and Varanasi. That is all about to change…

Tomorrow morning at 4:30, Ulco, Manuel, Jon (another visiting friend) and I leave for 2 weeks of adventure in Rajasthan. We were originally going to go by train, but instead opted for a car and driver. My driver, actually, which makes the whole thing a lot easier logistically. We have a rough idea of where we will be going but that is all subject to change at a moment’s notice. The only commitment we have is for a hotel in Jaisalmer on Monday night and then on Tuesday we head out into the desert on camels for a night under the stars. It is a very touristy thing to do, but we have arranged through or hotel that we will be going to an area where it will be just the four of us, our guide, our camels and the sand dunes.

I won’t write any more about the trip now as I would not want to give away any surprises, but I will be blogging about it daily and posting as I have internet access. 

We'll Always Have Paris

“Let’s do a shopping weekend in Paris. Just you and me.”

And within minutes I had reserved our first class tickets on the Thalys and a room at Axial Beaubourg, a tiny yet chic hotel Rue du Temple in the Marais. That is one of my preferred hotels to stay in Paris. The Thalys arrives at Gare du Nord and it is a quick connection to the number 4 metro downstairs, change at Chatelet and catch line 1 for the one stop to Hotel de Ville. Once off the metro it is less than a minute’s walk to the hotel. Catching the train for the 10:03 arrival meant being checked in and having first cocktails in hand by 10:30.

Ann and I met when we both had our first day together at new company and I instantly took a liking to her. But we really bonded over a misunderstanding. I walked into her office one day and asked if she felt it was inappropriate to invite someone from the office out for a drink. A date, really. I assumed she had me figured out and she assumed I was talking about her. She assumed that I was hinting around, trying to figure out if she would say yes before I asked. After about fifteen minutes of awkward conversation we bridged that communication gap and she discovered I was really interested in the student she had hired on her team.

His name was Daniel and he had just arrived from Paris to work with us for a few months. A few months which would ultimately be a couple of years, and I did invite him out and he accepted and we spent the evening at de Paap drinking oversized beers, listening to music and talking about his girlfriend. Even though the evening seemed to be a total waste of brand new Dolce and Gabbana, we became friends. But before that, when she discovered I was not into her, at least not that way, she breathed a deep, audible sigh of relief and I wasn’t sure whether I should be insulted or not. But it didn’t matter. From then on, we were pretty much joined at the hip. She was fabulous and I was just happy to orbit.

Thursday evenings quickly became ours. We had very busy work schedules and it was the only evening when shops were open late. Normally everything was shut tight before we even thought about leaving the office, but Thursday evenings we tried to keep our date. We would load ourselves up with bags full of Dolce and Gabbana, Prada, Gucci and Chanel and then head over to H&M café for a glass of beer or wine while waiting for Ulco to arrive. We would all have dinner and Horace, one of the owners would make us go through our bags showing all of our new purchases. One by one the shoes and handbags, shirts, sweaters, scarves and whatever else caught our attention would get looked over and he would give us his blessing while Ulco rolled his eyes and tried to be supportive.

We had talked several times about going to Paris. A year earlier I had been going about every two weeks to see friends, taking the train after work and arriving in Paris in time for pre-dinner drinks followed by a night of great food and champagne. I rarely went with anyone else. I had my friends there, a bit of a life that would be reborn every other Friday evening. And suddenly Ann wanted to go with me.

But she was also on a secret mission. I didn’t know it at the time, but she had major lust in her heart. Lust for the silver Louis Vuitton Monogram Vernis Houston handbag and I was to be her accomplice, her usual partner in crime. Whenever we went shopping, Ann would pick something out and I would give my honest opinion, we would debate and deliberate, argue and concur before anything was ever purchased. It was our thing. It as what we did.

We woke up that Saturday morning with our goal in mind and made our way to Avenue Montaigne and before I knew it, I was walking staring into the Louis Vuitton windows which were tastefully decorated with the coveted handbag in every color possible. We walked in and Ann marched up to the counter and caught the temporary attention of the saleswoman.

“I’ll take that silver one.”
“I can’t help you right now. There is a list. You need to be on the list.”
“Excuse me? The list?”
“Find the man with the clipboard. He will put you on the list.”

We went to find the man with the list, the short little man holding the passport to the kingdom Ann was so desperate to enter and he informed us that we had to wait just to get wait-listed. The list was full. It was not yet lunch-time. We were basically on luxury purchase stand-by. The store, as usual, was full of Japanese shoppers with seemingly bottomless wallets who bought up everything in sight. The air was tense. Beneath her cool exterior, I could feel Ann’s fear. A fear they would sell out before we even made it to the bottom of the list. I wanted to be supportive but I started complaining.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You are seriously going to make us wait so we can put our names on a list so we can wait some more so that you can spend a ton of money on a handbag? A handbag?”
“It’s not a handbag. It’s the Vernis Houston. It’s not a handbag. It’s a work of art.”
“Seriously?”
“Heather Locklear has one. It was in Vogue.”
“Oh.”

It was a dirty low-down trick to play the “Amanda Woodward” card and she knew it. If Heather Locklear had one, I knew there was no way she was leaving Paris empty armed. She knew I would have nothing to say and no choice but to wait it out with her. An hour or so later, they were kind enough to let her hand over an absurd sum of money for, I have to admit, a rather fabulous bag which spent the rest of the trip hanging off the arm of a glowing Ann who would every now and again get a far off look in her eye as she stopped to pet the new love of her life.

My Coerced Posting

I just received an SMS asking me to post something more cheerful than that last post… Hmmmm… The pressure of having to write under pressure is a lot of pressure. I hope I don’t buckle under the weight of exceptional expectations… I don’t really have anything to say, but I was raised to obey orders and so I will be making this up as I go along. So if this post sucks, then blame the guy who sent me the SMS, not me. This is not my fault. I am a victim, a pawn, a prisoner in an alphabetical Guantanemo of my own making.


First off, let me start with an update – Manuel and I are doing much better and things seem to be on a very good track and going in a good direction, and for now, that’s all I will say about my relationship.

Blogging is a strange thing and at times I find myself at odds with my life, what is on my mind and what I write about in my blog. When I first started, I wanted to write funny stories, I wanted to make people laugh. I wrote things that sometimes made me laugh as I was reading them. I would often write for a specific person and imagine their laughs or comments or looks of shock. Christina, Marco, Ulco, Joe, Nik, Laura, and many, many others were often the inspiration behind a story just because I know their sense of humor, I know what will make them laugh and if I knew someone was going through a hard time, I would write to cheer them up in my own little way. It's also my way of spending time with people that are way too many time zones away from me.

And all the while, life happens and many times it happens in a way other than I want it to be happening. Then I have to decide if I want to fake it and be funny or witty, write the truth about my feelings and thoughts, or avoid it all together by not writing. I broke one of my rules recently about not being too personal, especially if someone else was involved in any negative way. I was scared to do it and scared of what people might think, but getting it all out was hugely therapeutic and it let me examine my thoughts in a different way. And then the question arises of how personal I can get without getting too personal and giving away my life. And then there is the question of what type of writing I want to do… Do I just write according to what my mood is and what’s going on (maybe it will be funny, maybe it will be depressing, maybe it will just be) or do I force myself to keep it on the lighter side. I also have no idea what everyone likes to read - and when I say everyone, I mean the three people that visit my blog – Hiya mom!

So, why don’t you tell me. What would/do you prefer?

Joe

Everyone has their weekend ritual, and mine these days just happens to be Brussels. I am sure you all think that I am here for the raspberry margaritas, the chocolates from Fabrice Collignon or perhaps even to escape the golden cage of my life in Amsterdam, but the truth of the matter is, there is one other little reason I so often find myself in the capital of Europe. His name is Joe.

Yep, the very same one who had never seen Absolutely Fabulous and who was also with me last weekend in Paris where he showed off his hierogliphic skills. To make a long story short, he's an amazing guy, I am absolutely crazy about him and I just want to spend as much time with him as possible. I met Joe in early September through Nik and Marco and I feel very lucky as I never thought I would feel this way again. Many years ago, I got married to another great and wonderful guy, Ulco. I never imagined that we would ever get to that point where we would go our separate ways. Ulco is still one of the most incredible, kind, caring people I have ever met and he has and still does inspire me to be a better person. Without wanting to sound too melodramatic, he has been there for me in some of the highest and lowest moments of my life. Times when I honestly didn't think I would survive. Times when I didn't believe I actually wanted to survive.

I owe Ulco an enormmous debt, one that I can never repay and one that I will never forget. He is one of those people that when they come in you life, it is a better place. He is still a very important person in my life and I can't image my life without him. When Ulco and I decided it was better to end things instead of letting them get ugly or out of control, I never actually believed I would find myself in a situation where I am ready to take that chance again, but here I am.