la prochaine fois

faces, oufits, and yala yalas

2012-01-07T18:19:00.001-06:00

it’s the last homestay sunset.

homestay, where you arrived with only the ability to say “hello” in bambara. and nothing else.

homestay, where goats scavenged for leftovers outside your room.

homestay, where chickens ran in and out of the negen. bathroom.

but the most important?

the faces that took you in.

the faces that led you around and carried your things and showed you how to adjust to the malian way of life.

the faces that made your daruka everyday. breakfast.

the faces that brewed you tea for two months.

the faces that measured out malo for your dinner. rice.

the faces that gave you your malian togo. name.

the faces that braided your hair. the faces that kasi’d in terror when they first saw you but now smile when you approach. faces that won’t be getting malaria since they sleep under a mosquito net. cried.

the faces that taught you all the bambara nouns you needed to don. know.

the faces that would boil hot ji and pour it into a bucket for your shower. water.

the faces that would pull up a sigilan for you so you could sit with the rest of the family. chair.

the faces that warmed their hands by sharibon since although it never dipped below 65F, it is nene waati for mali. coal. cold season.

the faces that would say naa duminike! to you each day. come eat!

the faces that didn’t mind you butchering their language and unknowingly committing cultural taboos.

these are the faces that made you an instant part of their somogow. family.

but now your room is bare again. the mosquito net has been taken down.

you’re getting ready to leave homestay. it’s the end of your training.

soon you’ll be a real sigida lakana volunteer in your permanent village. environment.

but let’s return to that last sunset in your village. it’s not over folo. yet.

you see, there are other faces too.

these are the faces of your classmates.

your fellow trainees.

your future fellow volunteers.

but your prefer to call them something else.

they’re your yala yala buddies.

yala yala. perhaps your favorite bambara word. se promener.

to walk around.

for two months, rather than being model students and going straight back to your host families and practicing bambara or adjusting to the malian culture, you’d all wander away from the village to instead stare at the sky. or the creek. or the mango trees. or the onion gardens. or the rice fields. or anywhere in the middle of nowhere.

toubab time is what you also call it. time to speak in english. time to reflect. time to be american. time to organize all the thoughts running through your heads.

[toubabou,the bambara word for any foreigner.]

time to appreciate the continent your feet are standing on.

time to enjoy time together before the period of isolation starts.

it’s the last sunset. but not the last day.

there are moringa trees to be given away.

bambara to be reviewed.

sandy wind to be avoided.

bags to be packed and mobilis to be loaded. cars.

goodbyes to be said.

obligatory group photos to be made.

or rather, the only one.

more yala yalas to be taken.

here, your friendships have developed from these walks.

the bonding over food that you love so much – and miss so much - it will just have to happen later when you’re on your own schedule.

for the moment, you bond also over sudoku.

the final bambara test is a banna. finished.

someone gives you fish to snack on. but you politely say n faara. i’m full.

and of course. the last homestay yala yala.

the mango trees you sat under at the beginning are now flowering.

the next time you see your yala yala buddies again in march (or april), the fruit might be ready to eat.

you’ve got things to look forward to.

the children of the village come out to wait with you for the car.

the final goodbyes are said.

and just like that, you’ve left your first malian village.

but you are sure to segin.

to return. rentrer.

like you always do.

back at the training center, a bonfire is started.

the big day is coming up.

the swearing in ceremony. where you stop being a trainee and become a volunteer.

some people practice their speech.

but most others are getting dressed up.

the swear in outfits are being revealed.

for the past few weeks, everybody has been busy selecting and buying fabrics in order to visit a tailor who then transforms bolts of cloths into wearable outfits.

extravagant. shiny. crinkly. bright. colorful. embroidered. these are a few adjectives to describe contemporary malian formal wear.

but you and your yala yala village buddies choose a different route.

a more traditional route.

a route linked to mali’s history and not to trends in western africa.

bogolan. cotton mud cloth.

sun-dried. woven. dyed. stitched. bleached. fermented. handmade. these are the adjectives you’re more attracted to.

wearing bogolan is also an easy way to visually define the word cool.

as well as impressive and respectable.

but it doesn’t hurt to also have a handlebar moustache.

the cameras fly out.

so you put yours away. social events and cameras are not your favorite combination.

but, yala yalas and cameras are.

especially when it’s the very last one.

or rather. the very first one.

because all three of you are finally volunteers. trainee is a title for the next batch of americans who will arrive in six months are so.

now you are a peace corps volunteer.

no more classes. no more meetings. the new life is starting tomorrow.

tomorrow morning everybody is spreading out all over mali.

sikasso. kayes. ségou. koulikoro. these are the regions where buses loaded with new volunteers will be heading.

you’re excited. nervous. a bit sad.

but most of all, happy to have squeezed in one final/first yala yala before heading out.

a new year, an old year, new friends, old friends

2012-01-01T18:14:00.001-06:00

it’s a new year.

a new paysage. landscape.

but let’s rewind first.

back to last year.

to vehicles crowded with peace corps volunteers.

to mango trees in your training village.

to yala yalas after bambara classes. walks.

to woson bulu. sweet potato leaves.

(which is used to make saga saga – a dish you’ll all learn about later)

to nakos full of onions and carrots. gardens.

to a perfect log where good conversations would take place.

let’s keep rewinding - to december 25th.

to christmas day in mali.

a relaxing day.

a day to take a break from being in a malian village – a day to go back to being american. as a volunteer it’s crucial to fit in with your malian community. but it’s also important to keep the american side of you as well.

and what better way to be your american self than cardmaking and coloring?

or making cookies?

or better yet, cooking.

there’s a chef in charge.

a chef who planned a menu. in english and bambara – three pages worth. a meal for about sixty people.

thankfully there are plenty of hands to help.

apple pies and sugar cookies.

there’s plenty to do.

and plenty to laugh about as well. is it possible to cook without laughing?

glazed ham.

peanut butter cookies.

there’s more. like macaroni and cheese and salad and green beans and glazed carrots and mashed potatoes and biscuits and hot chocolate and tea.

however, the photos aren’t here.

because you decide to sneak away.

silly trainees and volunteers walk toward you. “we’re going to the river!" want to join us?”

you don’t say no.

for a change, instead of following bird tracks, you follow human footprints.

there are bi naani ni kelen new trainees in your group. 41.

41 faces. 41 personalities. 41 stories.

of course you can’t possibly grow close to all forty one of them.

that would be too tiring.

you are a bit curious about who will become the people you’ll come to love most.

will it be your training center roommates? your training village classmates?

your sitemate? the people placed in your region?

the trainers? current volunteers? future volunteers?

friendship. it shouldn’t be forced – it should just happen.

new friends. but you’ve not forgotten your old friends.

there are so many things in mali you want to share with them. you can’t wait until the day they come. you constantly think about all the things you’d like to share with them. sooni. soon.

old friends, new friends – they’re going to meet.

the wrong question

2011-12-18T17:13:00.001-06:00

last week was site announcement for all the trainees.

then everybody split up for a week to preview their new home.

a preview where you felt welcomed and wanted. and where you can’t wait to move to.

but also, you had two moments of realization.

something obvious that you saw but never really did see until you came to your new village in mali.

let’s jump back in time to where you were nothing but happy.

in no particular order…

the seine in normandy.

the rhine in strasbourg.

the saône in lyon.

the garonne in the gironde.

the thames in london.

the somme in amiens.

the brazos in texas.

the leie in ghent.

the iton in evreux.

the scheldt in antwerp.

the loire in nantes.

the liwu in taiwan.

the lez next to montpellier.

the ljubljanica in ljubljana.

the trinity in texas.

the red river in shreveport.

the loire (again) in tours.

the nameless stream in the alpes-maritimes.

the douro in porto.

the rhine in basel.

the neckar in heidelberg.

the saint lawrence in quebec.

the niger in mali.

here is realization number one: rivers connect the mountains to the sea.

so while you were playing your mountain vs. ocean game last year, it’s only a few days ago that you realized you overlooked perhaps the most important (and obvious) part.

the question of mountain vs. ocean, the question of staying vs. leaving, the question of sleeping vs. dancing – it was the wrong question. because these two things you thought were opposites are in fact connected.

by rivers. there’s not a mountain that isn’t linked somehow to the sea by a river.

the second realization – the one where suddenly everything made sense - a trip to the niger river is needed first before it can be explained in this journal.

sinking in

2011-12-10T17:24:00.001-06:00

when at the peace corps training center, the day officially begins at eight.

but you like to start the day a bit earlier.

you follow the footsteps of your feathered friends.

then you find a place to sit.

on the bank.

the bank of the niger river.

it still hasn’t sunk in yet that the niger river is what your life will revolve around for the next two years.

non-related instants

2011-12-09T14:58:00.001-06:00

life for the past week has been full of scattered instants in between classes and meetings and trips.

one of your many jobs in mali is to be a liaison.

there are organizations. ngos. in cities with nice offices.

one, in particular, is ICRISAT – the international crops research institute for the semi-arid tropics.

there are people. in areas that only a bicycle can reach.

how are they to interact with each other?

simple: you.

with english, french, and bambara, you’ll connect the groups that need each other.

you’ll get to know your community and its needs as well as the many organizations that can help it but don’t have access – except for you.

you’ve always loved combinations. and now, you will soon begin to explore a combination that will empower people to help themselves.

soon. not yet, as you’re still culturally adjusting for these first few months.

mentally. emotionally. physically. the stomach is not quite a happy story, but the hair is – kunsigi digi, or hair braiding, is.

dinners here are never around a table. instead they are around a fire with flashlights pinched between the neck and shoulder.

but they are still around. and that is most important.

the story of this photo – the day your malian family discovered jaba rings – will be told another day.

lots of yeleing, or laughing, happens with your host family. mostly at you as you do many things they can’t understand.

such as how you like to make photos of millet.

because what they really want are photos of them. of people. of faces.

maybe – just maybe – gradually you do too.

your photography is changing. maybe.

you haven’t decided yet. normally you don’t care to make photos of people you aren’t close to. it doesn’t mean you don’t admire photographers who make portraits of strangers – it just wasn’t your style.

but the enthusiasm you see when your camera is out – you can’t resist it. you can’t say no. you can’t not make a photo when someone really wants to be photographed.

an bena ye. we’ll see. on verra.

your favorite. surprising, it is not receiving mail and packages. seeing familiar handwriting was the instant that made you happiest.

closed butterfly

2011-11-30T00:25:00.001-06:00

mali. double the size of texas.

how does one describe the shape of mali?

it has quite an awkward shape. until you stumbled upon the perfect description in a book you’ve now misplaced.

a butterfly with closed wings – un papillion fermé.

mali and butterflies. from this point on, the two will be inseparable for you.

just like you and sunsets.

your eyes savor those few minutes when the sky has that certain shade of pink.

and in this specific spot, the backdrop of what you assume is a termite mound.

but you aren’t sure. as usual, you’re filled with niningali about the things around you. questions.

you decide to watch another sunrise. but you wake up too early and become terrified of the dark and overgrown path.

the imagination runs wild. you know there are no lions or snakes – but still you turn back.

you decide to walk to a field where the grass has been cut to watch the sunrise.

as light slowly fills the sky, your fear fades away.

and you decide to give the overgrown path a second try.

you push your way through the tall grass.

then the ah moment arrives.

you find yourself standing on the banks of the baji niger. the niger river.

a river in textbooks. a river in history. a river in maps.

a river you are in front of.

how many dreams are you living in?

the red balloon makes an appearance.

your eyes are fixed east.

in bambara, koron.

the tile, or sun, performs as usual.

you as well – you think, reflect, and ponder about all the moments that happen seemingly slow and fast at the same time.

time moves here in a way it’s never moved before for you.

you haven’t quite decided how it works.

yet.

more sunsets and sunrises are needed before you can figure it out.

which is not going to be a problem at all for the next two years.

time, regardless of whether it moves quickly or slowly, is the one thing you will have plenty of.

culturally adjusting

2011-11-25T00:55:00.001-06:00

orange roads, green trees, blue skies – these are the colors of your new life.

at first you might go through some culture shock – such as waking up to a ram being slaughtered right outside your bedroom.

you might also think the place is dirty.

but you also think its beautiful.

you’re adjusting – one bucket bath at a time.

the nights are spent tucked in to avoid mosquitos, lizards, roaches, scorpions, spiders, or anything else that might want to crawl into bed with you.

these first few months are being spent in a village so you can become culturally adjusted.

mornings begin with breakfast being heated over hot coals and sunlight sifting through dusty air.

learning bambara is the priority at the moment. all day, every day.

learning about seeds.

collecting them. drying them. saving them. activating them.

of course then planting them.

hopefully, watching them grow.

while also watching yourself and your fellow volunteers grow.

just like seeds – you’re currently living in a malian village to acclimate you to mali and learn the language and culture before being transplanted to your permanent site where you will be for the next two years.

the goal is not to be culturally integrated. to do so would be to abandon your values as well as yourself in order to fit in with your new culture.

to be adjusted means to be aware of the differences between your own culture and of your host culture and to find the balance between them.

every day, you see something new, and every day, you ponder more and more about your own values while living in another.

the days are as rhythmic as the pounding of corn and millet.

the pounding continues with the dancing of feet and arms.

your new life can also be summarized by six items.

insect repellent – avoiding malaria

bucket – so you can go to the pump and get drinking water.

bleach – to kill off anything bad in your water

solar lamp – so you can study at night

headlamp – so you can walk at night

toilet paper – because you aren’t ready to wipe the malian way

essential items to help you adjust.

one item you’ve loved in every place you’ve ever visited or lived: the bicycle.

what other method lets you explore with the wind in your face and your mind free to roam?

eight hours of bambara a day. that leaves just a small precious amount of daylight to be savored before the night settles in.

it could be spent playing uka.

but what you really love to do is yala yala.

the bambara word for walk around.

with your fellow trainees, this is what you do. a direction is picked, a path is followed, and the legs find a nice place to rest.

you can be found sitting at the bank of a small creek.

or enjoying the shade underneath the mango trees.

or exploring the rice/millet/corn fields.

wherever you end up, the discussions are always on.

you’re thankful to have good company.

you’re slightly worried about the isolation you’ll go through later, but for now you don’t waste a moment exchanging thoughts.

here, just a one minute walk from your temporary new home, you can do what you love most.

the tilebin. the sun falling.

the only thing you need.

the only thing you want.

its what calms you and prepares you for the next day.

donni donni. little by little. petit a petit.

i ni sogoma / toi et le matin / you and the morning

2011-11-03T01:40:00.001-05:00

i. you. toi.

ni. and. et.

sogoma. the morning. le matin.

i ni sogoma. good morning. i ni sogoma is how to say good morning in bambara. i ni sogoma est comment on dit bonjour en bambara. you say good morning to people by placing them with the moment of the day. tu dis bonjour aux gens par les mettre avec l’instant du jour.

i ni sogoma. you and the morning. good morning.

i ni sogoma. toi et le matin. bonjour.

i ni tile. you and the sun. good midday.

i ni tile. toi et le soleil. bon midi.

i ni wula. you and the afternoon. good afternoon.

i ni wula. toi et l’apres-midi. bon apres-midi.

i ni su. you and the night. good evening.

i ni su. toi et le nuit. bonsoir.

you’ve only been here a few days, and already you’ve begun discovering the layers of culture through the language. no “good” anything – just putting people with the right moments.

the days are crammed. scheduled. intensive. busy. exhausting. sweltering. confusing. organized. exciting. planned. surprising. long. full. lectured.

but by waking up early, you manage to squeeze in some time for yourself to still do the things that you like.

a new life does not mean your old life has stopped. they’re only going to merge.

above, between, in, under

2011-10-27T21:05:00.001-05:00

above the clouds.

between the clouds.

in the clouds.

under the clouds.

this is philadelphia. where in a hotel you’ve eaten your last homemade cake baked by your mother for a long time.

all this, to be repeated, without cake, at brussels.

then repeated one last time, again without cake, at bamako.

the last project, the last goodbyes

2011-10-26T23:29:00.001-05:00

one last project you had to finish up before dedicating 100% of your time to mali.

it involved sifting through almost all of your photos and giving them a home.

and that is how you found some photos from france in 2009 you didn’t like then, but love now. autumn apples. reds. oranges. yellows.

colors that you never see in a texas autumn. here, it is still summer with intense greens and blue. you love both and wouldn’t trade one for the other.

finally, all these past seasons have a nice online home. http://cathywu.com/photos/ is where they live now, aside from this journal. it’s all the same moments, but just a tad bit more organized and without words.

so that was your last project. finished.

then yesterday and today were dedicated to two things. the first. packing.

and as you pack all the items you need, you can’t help but add things that make you happy. such as empty notebooks. one from france. one from germany. one from taiwan. one from texas. you can’t wait to fill them up.

the second. running errands and running around DFW saying goodbye.

for the past six months, since april, when you left your apartment and finished your job as an assistant,you became an expert at saying au revoir.

goodbye. au revoir. goodbye. 再見. goodbye. zàijiàn. au revoir. 再見. goodbye. you’ve said it so many times. in so many languages. to so many people. and each time, you’ve meant it.

today was your last goodbye to the never-ending texas sunset.

“sunsets in texas never end. they go on forever.” is what a friend you said goodbye to once said. and she’s right. there’s something about an endless feeling you get that no other place’s sunsets give you.

your theory is that because so much of texas is flat and even in the cities where buildings are spaced apart and low, there isn’t a lot here to hide the sky.

so. goodbye texas.

the hellos will start tomorrow once you take flight.

the dried fruit ring update

2011-10-23T12:04:00.001-05:00

the dried fruit rings refuse to remain forgotten in a box in your parents’ home.

they decided to write their own story since you were too busy dancing around france for two years.

first they decide to get published. all by themselves. no advertising, no promoting – somehow they caught the eye of people who wanted to put them in a book. this you excitedly agreed too since it was a call for photos and not the work themselves. easy enough to co-ordinate from abroad.

so while you were busy traveling around europe, they were busy traveling around french bookstores. they even wandered over to amazon. design culinaire is the name, stéphane bureaux and cécile cau are the authors.

but then you finally meet the book in november 2010 at the book release party in paris. you lived an hour away, how could you say no?

it will be nearly a year later before you get to sit down and really flip through the book since your copy was shipped to texas.

but those rings are never satisfied. they wanted to be on american tv. unfortunately since they had also faded the people who sought them out ended up rejecting them.

but it’s okay. because those rings don’t give up.

they then decided they wanted to be published in germany. in a calendar.

how could you refuse such a request? EAT design with food is the name, and EIGA Design is the author.

then the rings got clever.

they caught you at a moment in texas where you could not pull the “i am living in france and currently cannot do any metalwork, sorry!” excuse each time someone sent you an email.

because an email came.

an email from the museum of arts and design in new york city.

those rings want to be on display.

back in 2009 you had a feeling. a feeling that one day you’d have to step back into the field of metalwork without the studio that you were spoiled with at ut austin. so in addition to preparing your final projects that last semester at ut, you also used expensive equipment for potential future projects that make your life easier that you knew you wouldn’t have access to in 2011.

MAD museum doesn’t want the wilted and faded rings.

so a few days ago, fresh pears and orangers were sliced and dried.

a fire hazard was set up in your parents’ backyard.

you know your metals professor would lose it if she saw all the unsafe things you did.

you overheated and melted a few things since the torch you are using now is cumbersome. that is the difference between $15 and $300.

but with enough practice, cumbersome will do the job. and that is all that matters.

the rings got what they wanted. they got remade.

their original vibrant colors that they wanted, they got.

even if the exhibition for the MAD museum falls through (because things can happen, such as: the rings fall apart, the museum changes their mind, the show is cancelled, etc, etc) you don’t care because you proved to yourself that you are indeed capable of stepping back into the metals field without depending on the studio at ut austin.

that was your fear since graduation. the fear of not being able to do what you used to do because you no longer have the same tools. but now you know that you in 2011 is just as capable as you in 2009 without access to the things you had before.

just for kicks, you played around with some new forms. but not too long since you really do need to be concentrating on mali.

after mali – the you in 2014 – will once again step back into metals.

let’s see where these rings decide to go, since they’ve obviously decided to choose their own adventures that are separate from yours.

catching up to the present

2011-10-17T20:03:00.001-05:00

this is the present. in texas. in dallas. at home.

but there is so much to catch up on.

and you are leaving next thursday for mali for two years for the peace corps.

that’s right. more on that later. right now the spotlight is on the past.

things must be written now or in two years. in two years you highly doubt you’ll be motivated. you already have trouble writing about things that happened two months ago.

in any case, everything is edited. written. and everything is posted.

so to get right to where we last left off, the day you left france. a total of sixteen things to read. make a cup of tea and take your time.

1. you arrive in taiwan. so does the londoner

2. the search for the illegal hot springs

3. sending wishes into the sky

4. the londoner leaves and the french boys arrive

5. with the french boys, the taroko gorge in taiwan is explored

6. the adventure continues at green island, one of only three spots in the world where there is a natural saltwater hot spring

7. the french boys have left, and you go chasing after rocks

8. you’ve left taiwan as well, and your first stop after home in texas is houston.

9. beware of alligators

10. the dried fruit rings are alive

11. kitchen reunion in washington, d.c.

12. the french invade new york city

13. the escape to the new york countryside

14. stroll through new york city, farewell to the frenchies, farewell to the new yorker – until mali, that is.

15. a toddler, an owl, and a wedding in austin

16. WWOOFing in the dallas/fort worth metroplex

enjoy!

now you have no more backlog. just another thing scratched off your long to do list.

from this point on, it is the present.

WWOOFing in texas

2011-10-17T19:58:00.001-05:00

it’s a last minute WWOOFing stint to try and get some gardening experience in.

but as you hang out with the 2 year old,

the five year old, the eight year old,

the father, and the mother, you wonder what are you doing in someone else’s home when your own home is so close?

homesickness kicks in at the oddest times.

as well as physical sickness too.

so you leave. one week was a bit short, but it was enough.

and you did learn a lot.

resting time is what you need right now. you are back home and home is where you will stay until next thursday.

but before you left… you made sure the llama, the donkey, the three dogs, the six hens, the one rooster, the herd of goats, the two cats, and the two pigs were behind you.

then you became a true texan as you fired your first rifle into the empty texas landscape. twice.

shooting a gun on a farm for WWOOFing? only in texas.

austin

2011-10-17T19:57:00.003-05:00

straight off the plane, a short pause at home, then a drive down to your favorite texan city: austin.

you spend the morning hanging out with a truly great toddler.

and an owl you’ve named hibou.

a surprising friendship – just like the one between you and your host – a friendship that has developed by both of you mutually inspiring one another.

a friendship that has developed also because your closest austin buddies actually no longer live in austin.

this is a good thing. to leave such a perfect place – and if anybody comes back, it will be on their own terms and not because they got stuck/comfortable in austin.

right now austin is a ghost town for you. familiar places. familiar memories. familiar everything. but missing faces.

there’s also wedding.

of one of your favorites, of course.

a few familiar faces are found here and you do some catching up.

then you wish the happy couple as much sweetness in their marriage as can be found at their potluck style dessert bar.

the city

2011-10-17T19:57:00.001-05:00

the goélands follow you everywhere. even to the staten island ferry in new york city. they make you smile.

the french, you’ve discovered, have an obsession with stalking squirrels.

looks of confusion, of excitement, of curiosty appear as the french discover sticky buns.

the french comment about how ubiquitous the american flag is. “on aime beaucoup notre pays, mais on n’a pas besoin de mettre un drapeau partout! nous, on aime notre pays avec le fromage, le vin…” is the argument one frenchie brings up.

[we love our country a lot, but we don’t need to put up a flag everywhere! us, we love our country with cheese, wine…]

days are spent strolling.

nights are spent reserving and buying tickets for broadway shows, baseball games, and greyhound buses.

finally.

the sun comes out.

the highline is where you head.

an ancient railroad track is converted with wild plants as a pedestrian walkway.

a nice method of blending the city with some nature.

if you can’t get to nature, bring nature to you.

art installations line the walk as well.

painted bricks catch your eye.

where does time go? you are already at the end of your two week french reunion. with the end comes the usual goodbyes, but it is also time to… faire les comptes. [do bookkeeping]

receipts are brought out. calculators are used. numbers are written down. who paid for what, who owes what, this is when it all becomes sorted. an illegal gambling operation is what it looks more like as money is passed left and right and to and fro.

then, one of your saddest moments. they leave. this is the last time you see your frenchies.

you don’t bawl, but your cheeks are definitely not dry.

hugs. kisses. and instead of “à la prochaine” everybody says “au mali” to you.

and you know they’ll keep their word.

then you head back to D.C. where you are greeted by a coq au vin.

then more one-on-one time.

then a “see you in mali!” instead of “goodbye.”

then you head toward the airport.

new york countryside

2011-10-17T19:56:00.001-05:00

your most loyal friend is thrown above onto baggage rack in the train.

your backpack. soon he will have a big sister. but that story is for later.

jelly beans are passed around. but you turn them down since you only like jelly bellys.

then your most loyal friend gets thrown into the back of a truck.

perhaps it’s also the most abused friend as you put it through so much.

a quick stop at a farmer’s market.

and then you arrive.

the new york countryside.

a country home.

a place to sit.

a place to stand.

a place to eat.

a place to breathe.

a place to stare.

a place to walk.

a turkey is fried.

an apple cake is made.

muffins are bought.

leftover apple cake is served.

dishes are done.

streets are crossed.

“it’s like herding cattle,” you comment to your friend about how she’s in charge of five frenchies.

“more like herding cats,” she corrects me.

historical hotels are visited.

a typical american diner is eaten in.

an egg cream is ordered.

your personal favorite – the shopping cart is pushed.

the door is unlocked.

the candles are lit.

dinner is grilled and served and eaten.

wineglasses are emptied.

dishes are cleaned (again).

puzzles are put together.

slowly.

then, the last day. time to go back to the city. there is a checklist of things to do beforehand:

sweep the floor.

do laundry.

eat breakfast.

shower.

pick tomatoes.

everybody volunteers for a but nobody wants to go pick tomatoes.

you don’t want to either.

thanks to record high amounts of rain the mosquitos are out in numbers higher than ever.

it is impossible to go outside without at least five different mosquitos on you at the same time.

you swat away one, but three more are on your neck. you swat your neck, and five more are on your wrist. you swat your wrist, and four more are on your ankle. there is no mercy.

but somebody has to do it. you sacrifice yourself. and you pick tomatoes in record speed because each unnecessary second spent outside meant more red irritated skin.

on your way in, your quickly admire the purples.

the pinks.

and the whites.

back inside, you’re safe. but not without battle scars. and rewarded with breakfast. jams, honey, pancakes, pear buttermilk cake, and bacon.

a perfect way to finish off your stay in upstate new york.

the french invasion

2011-10-17T19:53:00.003-05:00

the apartment in new york city. it is quiet. empty.

but not for long.

the french invasion has begun.

mattresses are inflated.

things are unpacked. then repacked immediately. because tomorrow, all seven of you are grabbing a train even further north for a countryside visit.

that’s right. after taiwan, you find yourself reunited again with your favorite frenchies. this is the reason why you didn’t cry much – because you knew that you’d see them all again soon.

but first, pajama time. sleep is needed first.

kitchen chemistry resumed in the mid-atlantic

2011-10-17T19:53:00.001-05:00

dirty dishes.

pomegranate salade.

an indian dish.

a strawberry pineapple tart.

and… the american capitol?

that’s right. the environment has changed.

but cooking together hasn’t.

even after being separated for more than a year, the chemistry in the kitchen was still strong as usual.

even the weather, it seems, has stayed the same. each time you are together, it is rainy and cold.

unfortunately, your ex-coworker from france has a regular 9-5 job that keeps her busy.

coupled with the weather, this keeps you indoors in many of washington d.c.’s free museums.

you don’t mind.

because you’re always seeing something new.

but come five pm, you hurry back to the apartment.

because its tea time! time to talk. to laugh. to catch up on gossip.

to admire the sunset.

to make popovers.

with jam from the country house.

time to play with the “medium” sized dog.

who in fact comes up to everybody’s waist.

setting off fire alarms.

eating those popovers.

then, after a few days of that, the weekend is here. you both slip on your shoes and hop on a five hour bus ride north. to new york city.

you guys have got some french cats to herd.

faded and wilted, but far from dead

2011-10-17T19:51:00.003-05:00

the email arrives.

you have a flight in three days. but you manage to squeeze in an afternoon of productivity.

the dried fruit rings are chasing their own dreams.

they want to be seen. you take them out of their shoebox. they’ve lost their colors. they’ve wilted. but they are still full of life.

they also want to be remade.

alligator encounters

2011-10-17T19:51:00.001-05:00

ah. texas. there is so much to see.

even if you’ve lived here all your life, you still manage to discover something new every day.

to hang out with one of your favorites, you drag her to the nearest state park since the city itself of houston doesn’t really interest you anymore.

“maybe we can go swimming? pack your swimsuit just in case,” you tell her since the weather is nothing but nice.

you arrive at brazos bend state park.

then you both see the alligator warnings. “uhhh, i think not, cathy, i am not swimming in those waters,” she says.

you agree that its a good decision.

as you enjoy the views, a stranger walks by and asks, “hey, do you want to see an alligator?”

you turn around.

and there he (or she) is. you both decide to take the left fork in the path to avoid any potential meeting with sharp teeth.

then a game of where’s waldo begins. are there alligators here?

here?

yes.

take a closer look.

still can’t see it?

if you miss it now, perhaps you deserve to get eaten.

happily instead of being alligator lunch, you and your friend decide to eat lunch. picnic table + picnic = perfect.

after a day of close alligator encounters, you both head back and take a dip in a much safer place – the apartment pool. the next time you come back, the swimsuits will be left at home for sure.

simple houston moments

2011-10-17T19:50:00.001-05:00

your first days back in texas are spent at home being an anti-social butterfly. you like friends, but you needed some down time. (but that time was really spent editing photos)

once you readjusted back to the texan way of life, houston was your destination.

where it was nothing but happy moments. blurry moments.

where it feels as if time has never changed.

late night fashion shoots.

with one of your favorite besties. the other one is in chicago. next time, next time for sure, you tell him.

lunch made from leftovers with another bestie.

who owns the world’s most comfortable couch, bean bag, papasan, and…

bed. the cloud she calls it. once you’re on it, you immediately fall into a land of dreams.

lunch is ready! it’s time to go.

where rocks stop the crashing waves

2011-10-17T19:48:00.001-05:00

the londoner is gone. the frenchies are gone. soon it will be your turn as the date for your flight to texas approaches.

you refuse to leave without doing one thing.

climb.

thanks to couchsurfing, you find a group of people that like rocks.

even better, some of them already know the rocks here at longdong.

the shell of a dead crab.

this can only mean one thing.

you are where the mountains meet the sea. again.

where the waves, coming from who knows where, are stopped as they crash into the rocks here.

in taiwan this happens quite often.

if there is a mountain, the sea is not far. and if there is the sea, the mountain is not far.

as you reflect about all the searching in france you did – the alps, the mediterranean, the normandy cliffs, the atlantic…

how could you have forgotten that the best spot for where the two meet was all along in the country of your parents?

you take a break from thinking and instead focus on climbing.

however you spend most of your time watching and socializing.

because you are out of shape. it has been a few months since you climbed, and these rocks start at where your limit ends.

but then you wonder if its because you’re climbing without your favorite climbers.

it just isn’t the same, and you miss them so much.

no excuses, mental or physical. you are just out of shape. and now you’ve got motivation to get back into it and improve your technique. you can’t just do one, both are necessary.

in the beginning its just the five of you.

but by the afternoon its a climbing party.

a dip for those who become too hot.

it seems, that wherever you are in the world, people who like rocks tend to find other people who like rocks. perhaps linked to the fact that climbing is not a solitary sport – a team is always needed, for safety reasons.

as a bonus, climbers are generally good people.

very good people.

they inspire you, always.

you say goodbye to taiwan with the best feeling – inspired.

to improve, to push yourself, to change, to continue.

perhaps one day, you’ll come crashing to a stop in front of a mountain as well.

[almost wordless film] taiwan’s east coast, green island, august 2011

2011-10-17T19:46:00.001-05:00

the east coast adventure continues to green island. a place that used to host political prisoners but now hosts tourists and some of the most pristine snorkeling that is on par with the top spots in indonesia and thailand.

after this, the frenchies leave. so you savor every moment you can as you all find the best swimming spots, skip stones, drink iced passionfruit juice, climb grassy hills, eat street food, and follow wherever your feet decide to go.

[almost wordless film] taiwan’s east coast, taroko gorge, august 2011

2011-10-17T19:42:00.001-05:00

train tickets are bought.

hostels are booked.

scooters are rented.

the recipe journal is packed.

the digital camera is abandoned and replaced with the film camera.

the east coast of taiwan is going to be explored.

you’ve actually never seen it since usually you stay in taipei with the family, but now that you’ve got friends visiting, you’ve got the perfect company (and scooter drivers) to visit a different side of taiwan. just like paris is to france, new york city is to america, taipei is the same to taiwan. it’s a big city that is nothing like the rest of taiwan.

and now it begins!

the first part revolves around taroko gorge.

the boys arrive

2011-10-17T19:39:00.001-05:00

the londoner has left for cambodia. and is promptly replaced with two french boys.

the adventure continues, but definitely a bit wilder.

nothing says breakfast in taiwan like cold sweetened soymilk.

here soymilk is no fad or health craze. it just is what it is. soymilk. that’s it.

after a brief discussion of who wants to do what and where, the itinerary is set.

that is the great part of taiwan: its so small that things can be planned on the fly.

one of the first ideas: go north. to the coast. to see the sea.

and all it takes is a simple bus ride to get here.

boats. harbor. fish.

again – it’s the same stuff you did in france with them.

only the place has changed.

churches are replaced with temples.

the pacific is much much much more powerful than the english channel.

it is also typhoon season.

here at yehliu, you ignore the crowds and admire the rock formations.

the sun is heavy.

the winds are biting.

the mood stays silly because you are with two boys.

poke!

you will randomly poke your friends to verify they exist because you can’t believe not only are you not alone, you’re with your french friends.

whoever could’ve predicted that friendships started in a french foyer would go all the way to taiwan?

then you all decide to go for a dip.

the waves are perfect.

the beach is sandy (rare in taiwan)

more importantly, the water is warm.

elle est bonne, your friends agree.

[she (the sea) is good.]

the red flag is ignored.

boys – even boys who are trained lifeguards – will ignore the rules.

but not so fast. the lifeguard blows his whistle and points away from the ocean.

ah. apparently, when there is a typhoon warning, not only can you not go swimming you cannot be on the sand as well.

cultural lesson learned as the shoes are put back on.

“mais on était si proche de nager!” you sigh disappointedly.

[but we were so close to swimming!]

nobody stays sad long.

the next day, it’s back in the city and in the metro.

to taipei 101.

it’s the obligatory tourist stop that everybody must see.

you suppose – the world’s second tallest building – that is worth it.

remember. umbrella. you need it.

it does rain – heavily – but never for more than a few hours.

rain, sun, and photos: the three functions of an umbrella.

a wish into the sky

2011-10-17T19:37:00.002-05:00

a saturday in taiwan. peace. quiet. nature. an escape from the city.

or so you thought.

because the entire city of taipei had the same idea too. all 2.6 million of them.

here is a tip for any future travelers in taiwan: on weekends, explore the city. on weekdays, explore the daytrip areas. because the taiwanese love escaping taipei just as much as you.

regardless, it didn’t detract from your day.

you’re on the hunt for another waterfall.

bigger. better. but no secret.

on the way you encounter a dragonfly.

he doesn’t flinch as you inch closer.

remember your umbrellas.

then you arrive.

but it isn’t what you expected.

it might be large, it might be famous, but it is also illegal to go swimming in.

like the other one, but this time, it’s enforced.

so you make your photo and leave to go make wishes.

in the city of pingxi, it is known for a place where one can write wishes on a paper lantern to release in the sky.

and the wishes will come true.

however – what is tough is to find a place that will let you also make your own lantern. it is much more meaningful than just buying the lantern premade.

and happily, you stumble into the perfect shop.

gluing. bending. discussing. the lantern is coming together.

then the wish writing happens.

your friend dares to carry both a phone and a bottle of ink in the same hand. you tell her, “nobody is that lucky” and takes her phone away as she proceeds to write her first ever chinese characters.

then its your turn to make a wish.

the happy wishers.

note the faded light pink lantern hanging in the shop. it comes into play.

the lantern expert then brings out ten sheets of lucky paper soaked in oil.

he lights it on fire.

the three of you let go.

and watch as the latern becomes smaller and smaller.

but wait.

this is all too familiar.

this shop.

the lantern expert.

the lantern expert’s son.

you think you’ve perhaps already been here in this same spot in 2008.

you go into the 2008 folder on your computer and search out a specific folder. and yes – indeed – though now faded in the happy wishers photo, 3 years ago the lantern hanging from the shop was a deep pink.

you were here years ago with a different group of wishers.

december 2008 – 9 wishers

august 2011 – 3 wishers

other than that, not much has changed.

the confirmation is in the lantern expert’s hands.

he is still wearing the same watch. on the same wrist.

2008. 2011.

your photography style has changed.

but those hands, unmistakably, are still the same. the same movement.

you find your wish from 2008. to be accepted into the F.T.A.P.

the french teaching assistantship program.

the wish was released 3 years ago, exactly like the wish you just now released in 2011.

and that wish came true.

you did get accepted.

you did go to france.

in fact, you got more than you wished for.

and now, you’re back full circle for another wish.

although you don’t claim to predict the future, you know this wish will come true as well.

then, back to 2011, you spend the last moments with your favorite londoner doing your favorite activity: writing postcards to all your favorites.

whatever happens in the future – you know you’ll find yourself full circle again with your friend – and you’ll both continue the friendship where it last left off: tea, exploring, and of course, letters.

breaking rules

2011-10-17T19:36:00.001-05:00

a magpie. a taiwanese one, that is. google images can provide a better image, but this is the one you saw with your own eyes.

to be seeing birds, that can only mean one thing: you’ve escaped the city.

escaping taipei is no difficult task. you hope on a bus in any direction. and 40 minutes later, you hear nothing but the sounds of nature.

the daytrip today involved a natural hot spring.

taiwan is famous for it hot springs.

but you must be careful. the cities of beitou or wulai are renowned for them. but they are also clean hotels and resorts with pools with the sulfurous water pumped in. two reasons – the hot spring water is too hot to just dip in at the source, and, of course, money. those places are not free.

but. today there exists the internet. and after searching for “natural hot spring taipei” you find one. a potential one, in yangmingshan mountain.

a short hike is required.

and if you’re lucky, you just might run into the unofficial guardian of the hot springs who will lead you directly there. if not, just follow the path.

some rule-breaking is also required as it is, ahem, illegal to go here.

some treacherous bridge crossing will need to be done.

you must also prepare yourself for poisonous snakes.

the best strategy is to stay on the trail. if you leave the trail, you are game for some snake dinner.

there is water. but this is not your destination. and why are the rocks orange, you ask?

do not forget your umbrella. you may laugh at asian tourists, but your skin won’t once you feel the heaviness of the humid heat pressing down on you.

some crossing-of-river-by-small-pebbles is also required.

don’t worry. you’re almost there.

here you are.

hot 100F/42C hot spring water on the left meet right in the middle with cold freshwater on the right means this is where you can change into your swimsuit and take a dip.

and that is exactly what you do.

this place is actually no secret. illegal yes, but more than well-known.

evidence would be the clock hung up, the many sandbags used to form pools, and the foam pads to sit on if the rocks are too hot.

some shade provides relief against the sun. in france you embrace the sun, in taiwan you avoid it.

you sit – drink water – and when it becomes too hot to bear, you get up.

then you follow the stream of cold water.

right for a cold shoulder massage under a waterfall.

but then you’re cold.

so you hop back into a hot spring pool. and repeat.

for the entire afternoon.

but around five pm, when the sun is weaker – suddenly the place changes.

the tourists arrive. what was a secluded afternoon turns into a circus.

so then you decide to leave your little paradise.

you and your friend agree that sometimes it is worth breaking rules because you will only miss out on life if you choose to always follow them.

sunrise, sunset

2011-10-17T19:35:00.001-05:00

you are somewhere over the middle east.

somewhere between france and taiwan.

night falls. you doze off – it’s your specialty, falling asleep.

a few hours later, you peek outside your window seat. the pink first attracts you. it must be time for a show – a sunrise above the clouds.

the yellow makes its entrance next.

then the blue.

then – could it be – could it possibly be– what is that bar?

ah. just some clouds.

indeed. lots of clouds.

the plane flies lower as you arrive closer and closer to the island of your grandma.

then it becomes unmistakable. your hunch was right. you are seeing rocks. those are no clouds. finally – where the mountains meet the sea. your feet can’t wait to touch ground.

you arrive, and the neatness is destroyed. first a messy taiwanese desk where all your things are sprawled out.

then the bed is dumped with the entire contents of both your suitcases. you are done with living out of a suitcase. everything is going to be moved to a closet.

but this is the best part about arriving in taipei.

your favorite londoner.

you may have left europe – but you are nowhere near done with the european dance. you’ve got a british dancing buddy for an entire seven days before she jets off to cambodia.

up to taipei 101. where you realize how integral the mountains are to the cities.

a different day, a different show.

how happy you are.

lights flicker on as the sun fades off.

you think the sun is done.

how wrong you are.

one last burst of color. all goes dark.

time for some artificial light.

a teahouse , of course. she is british. and the british love their tea.

the environment has changed. taipei is nothing like france or britain.

but the activities? tea, sunset, laughing – those haven’t changed one bit.

[wordless film] evreux, 2011

2011-10-09T23:11:00.000-05:00

[wordless film] la bourgogne, july 2011

2011-10-08T23:11:00.000-05:00

[wordless film] vieilles charrues, la bretagne, july 2011

2011-10-07T23:11:00.002-05:00

[wordless film] spain, april 2011

2011-10-06T23:11:00.001-05:00

[wordless film] cherry blossoms, evreux, april 2011

2011-10-05T23:11:00.002-05:00

[wordless film] la mer normande, april 2011

2011-10-04T23:11:00.001-05:00

[wordless film] climbing, normandy, march 2011

2011-10-03T23:11:00.001-05:00

[wordless film] lisa’s, paris, march 2011

2011-10-02T23:11:00.001-05:00

[wordless film] pointe du hoc, normandy, february 2011

2011-10-01T23:11:00.001-05:00

[wordless film] cycling, evreux, january 2011

2011-09-30T23:11:00.001-05:00

[wordless film] strasbourg, january 2011

2011-09-29T23:11:00.001-05:00

[wordless film] la bretagne, january 2011

2011-09-28T23:11:00.001-05:00

[wordless film] lyon, december 2010

2011-09-27T23:11:00.001-05:00

[wordless film] la cinémathèque, paris, november 2010

2011-09-26T23:11:00.001-05:00