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Journal 45: Philippines Days Four and five

Ifugao:


See the rest of the photos from the Philippines at cyleodonnell.com

Moving onto the mountains, Ifugao was my next destination.  Highlights abound on this leg of the trip.  I wanted to see the hanging coffins of Echo Valley, the tall, majestic waterfall past the ancient Fidalisan Village and of course the ancient rice terraces.

I have seen many terraced farming fields before in places like Northern Vietnam, Laos, Malaysia and throughout some areas in Korea and Taiwan.  In full season, the fields can take on an otherworldly pallet of colors and, depending on the perspective and the backdrop of the sun at the time of witnessing them, they can make the intricate lines of a valley appear to carve out the steps the gods take to travel to their resting place – or something equally mysterious and grandiose.

But these fields were said to be the best terraces in all of Southeast Asia because of their expanse and their meaning in the ancient world.  I suppose I’d find out in a couple days.


To see the rest of the photos from the Philippines, go to cyleodonnell.com

My first stop was a little town called Baguio.   It was just a quick stopover as I would almost immediately catch another jeep into the higher reaches of the mountains.  But it’s worth mentioning because it’s the carving capital of the Philippines.   Well, that and the fact that I had a great conversation with a lady who sold beetlenut to the locals.

So beetlenut is a small, fibrous bud that comes from within the fruit of a palm-like tree.  Beetlenut by itself isn’t really all that stimulating.  It’s basically got the consistency of chewing on a pine bud or pre-pinecone sprout.  And it’s not all that organic tasting either.  But if you never spat the juices out on the ground, you’d never really get the feeling that this little bud really has an odd chemical reaction in your mouth.

The punch comes when you add two other ingredients.  First, you add tobacco and wait for that to get into the blood stream. Then you squeeze in a packet of mustard.  And the combination of all the various substances forces into the blood, a very amphetamine-like buzz.  It’s effects are fleeting — only 20 minutes or so — but the process can be repeated over and over with the same effect.

Basically, it’s become this ritual for the men in the area, more than a drug or addiction.  However, the addictive qualities of this substance are not to be questioned.  Almost all men do it.  And if the stained red mouths full of quickly decaying teeth didn’t give it away, the huge, snot-covered, crimson spatters all along the roadway will.  All told, it’s probably one of the most disgusting pastimes I’ve seen in Southeast Asia.  And I have seen a lot of them.

But that didn’t take away from the “carving capital” aspect of the place.  Huge trunks and split logs almost completely line the roadway up to the town and even a little after, awaiting their artisan’s shaping hands to come and craft them into something appreciable by human standards.

The town itself has an easy, laid back feel to it.  Shops line the three corners of the central part of town and they supply the entire outlying area with goods and food.  But what I liked the most was that the backs of most of the shops had restaurants hanging about a mile above the huge, mountain drop-offs below.  The people are very curious of travelers, walking up to talk and waving at you from passing vehicles.  And this also adds to the demeanor of the place.


If you share any of my photos, please reference back to this blog, cyleodonnell.wordpress.com, or my main site, cyleodonnell.com.

From there it’s only a short wait until another jeep is full of people and items are piled high on the roof.  My jeep started rumbling up the mountain at about noon and I arrived at my next destination, Banahue. by 6 p.m.

Banahue is another one of those towns where things are a little slower, not necessarily finding any reason to rush around.  And over every mountainside guardrail there’s a vista of the most amazing terraces chiseled into the valley below.

It was Banahue, too, where I got the full grasp of the risk people take in traveling through this area.  The mountains in this area were simply not equipped with the soils befitting of support for the roads being plied through them.  As in several locations I could very easily see the next pass the jeep was headed over, there would be a huge empty space where the mountainside used to be underneath the 4-inch-thick concrete pathway for the passing vehicles.  This, of course, was precariously replaced by a few rickety beams used as temporary replacements for the moment’s pause until the seasonal construction crew could come out and lay concrete underworking to the roads damage.


Buy a print of this or any of the photos here or on my website, cyleodonnell.com/photography.

Passing over these dodgy turns was shifty business at best, and, as I thought many times, likely to be my last time passing over anything at all on this planet.  It made me wonder if the last vessel of people to have toppled to their deaths during one of these trips was filled with people who may have been thinking the same things I was thinking – anticipating their own demise just moments before it was sure to take place…

In Banahue, I moseyed around and went to the little tourist-based shops and bought a couple masks and a native fighting stick and even a couple little bags to keep my batteries in.  And when I walked back across the lazy road I snapped this shot of local life in a typical shop in this area.  The peacefulness of the mountains seemed to echo its own voice back into the culture that exists here.  In fact, a lot of the mountains’ characteristics are played out in traditional life, I thought.  It was the nice, cool climate that I had been seeking since my retreat from the heat and bustle down in the towns of southern Luzon.


Buy a print at cyleodonnell.com

Below is a part three of the six-part documentary film, Travel Geek: Documentary Philippines (be sure to subscribe to my channel). It covers much more than this journal. But since I’ve already made the video, I might as well put part one of the six-part series in here to add some reference:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEVWwTJMXcw]
[Wanna Help?  One way you can help is to sign up for blog updates.  You can also share this video (which can be found on my channel), my photography website and this blog.  Email at least ten of your email contacts who might enjoy it.  Help spread the word so others can enjoy my travels!  If you have any questions, just email me at: cyle@cyleodonnell.com. You can also follow me on facebook, sign up to receive my tweets on Twitter, and see my latest pins on Pinterest!]

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Journal 44: Philippines Days Three and Four

After Pinatubo, I headed farther north into the western peninsula of Luzon.  Hundred Islands National Park was next on the agenda.

As I rolled into Alaminos, on the long bus, I hadn’t realized how much time had gone  by.  But that last leg took me almost six hours.  I just spent most of the time snapping photos at passers by and trying to scribble a few words into my journal as the bus bounced roadward.

Getting into Alaminos doesn’t mean you’ve made it to the park, however.  Once there, you still have to pay a tricycle to drive you the rest of the 7km distance to the coast.  The price isn’t that bad (only about $2), because the driver probably will have a brother or cousin who owns a hotel, restaurant or boat.  Good people to know.

Hundred Islands National Park:

Probably the thing I liked the most about the Hundred Islands National park was area surrounding it.  Staying in Alaminos and Lucap was sort of what I was hoping to see since I got to the Philippines.  The slower pace of life, the small town feel and the quiet streets that, once you wake up, you’re happy to have had the night before.

The place I stayed at was a reasonably large place that had recently been built by a small family.  I couldn’t tell if the husband was a perpetual drunk, because it was Christmas Eve when I arrived.  To be fair, both towns were equally stocked with drunkards, I suppose.  So perhaps I was being a bit harsh on the old man.  But it was his reliability as a boat captain what I was more unsure of.  Because the next day I’d signed up to have him drive me out into the park.

I approached to set up a time to leave to the park the next day and it felt like he’d thrown up an entire bottle of malt liqueur within five minutes of our meeting.  But as I had begun to find out, there were many people who could captain the rickety little vessels passing as the latest influence for the aquatic tourist conveyor belt out to the islands.  So if he fell through, I was pretty sure I’d be okay.

And that turned out to be the case as I wound up snatching up a younger, more sober looking driver at the entry to the pier.

Being as it was the morning time and I had arrived to the crumbling docks in time for the sunrise, I thought I’d snap a few photos.  They became some of the best shots I’d made yet on this trip.  So I was happy that I went out early.

Being the first national park that resided in the ocean that I have ever seen, I thought that this was one was particularly special.  The islands themselves were interesting.  But they weren’t mindblowing – as played out in the advertising all along the coast.

Shaped like the average blooming mushroom, these islands display a headdress of green foliage under a short canopy of failing coastline.  They are also very close to one another in proximity.  So there are lots of shallow pools, swimming areas, neat beaches and what is left of the coral that was swept nearly away from the latest wave of seasonal typhoons and covered by annual sediment brought in by lahar flows.

I don’t want to give the impression that I wasn’t impressed and didn’t enjoy the trip.  But if they were a little less dramaticized before you got there, they  might seek less awe and find more of it in the people that gaze upon these eroding structures.  Nevertheless, among the two packages (a half day [3 hours] and a full day [can include an novernight stay on Governor’s Island]), I opted for the short tour.

But I was no less excited about the day in the islands.  The driver took us out to little coves and swimmable spots.  There was this great little island that had all sorts of little pagoda-looking huts that appeared to have lived through many a noisy party echoing through the inlet.  And probably my favorite part of the trip was… well, the trip.  I guess I mean that literally.

When we arrived at the last island, there were lots of people swimming in the crystal clear waters at the south-facing beach.  And I was happily prancing along watching them when I stubbed my toe on this enormous shell jutting up through the sand.  I definitely broke my toe and I was down for a ten-count.  But once I was back up and snapping away, I found this great little oyster bed that had been “salvaged” by the last heavy weather that had come through and torn up the coral bottoms.  

I crept out into the sectioned off nursery and snapped a few photos of these giant oysters.  They must have been two feet across.  They were bright blue and green and seemed to change color under the shifting light of the cloud-strewn sky.  It was a great additive to the trip.  But after that, I headed back for the trenches.

Today, it was off for Banahue and Bontoc on my way to seek out the home of the native headhunters of Ifugao.  That trip would prove to be exciting and full of great views.  I would spend the first half on top of one vehicle and the other half hanging out the rear door of another.  But you’ll have to wait for the next journal to see photos and read about that.

And speaking of photos, be sure to stop by cyleodonnell.com for the photos from the whole Philippines trip.

Below is a part two of the six-part documentary film, Travel Geek: Documentary Philippines (be sure to subscribe to my channel). It covers much more than this journal. But since I’ve already made the video, I might as well put part one of the six-part series in here to add some reference:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_NFWWaw-u4]

[Wanna Help?  One way you can help is to sign up for blog updates.  You can also share this video (which can be found on my channel), my photography website and this blog.  Email at least ten of your email contacts who might enjoy it.  Help spread the word so others can enjoy my travels!  If you have any questions, just email me at: cyle@cyleodonnell.com. You can also follow me on facebook, sign up to receive my tweets on Twitter, and see my latest pins on Pinterest!]

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Journal 43: Philippines Days Two and Three

Jeepneys:


Be sure to check out the Philippines photos at cyleodonnell.com

There’s an interesting and flavorful addition to the Philippines that is home to no other location on earth.  What is this delectable, endemic treasure: the Jeepney.

Short is its history on this green earth, but fascinating is its time here.  The Jeepney came about through an unexpected gap in the Philippines chilling and exciting past.

For only a short period of years, about (#) years or so, the United States occupied this small, island-speckled nation.  But in those short years they peppered the countryside with the vehicle most appropriate for bouncing around its rugged terrain, the Jeep.  So godlike is this amazing entity bestowed upon the Filipino people that they created many different Jeep-esque country crawlers in its honor.

Useful in hauling everything from livestock to construction materials up the slow-to-progress hinterland road system, these smoke-belching beasts are seen all over the country – especially in Luzon and the larger islands.  The classic front end, the heavy steal construction and, of course, the diehard suspension system are all akin to their master.  But Filipinos have added girth, length, an upper rack system that could rival the strength of boardwalk pilings.  And that’s all in an effort to tote as much as possible (and therefore make as much money as possible) in one trip.  But little else has changed about from the Jeep’s original design – including its not-so-environmentally-friendly miles-per-gallon ratio.

I was scammed and always charged the local rate on these mobile social clubs.  And it was never a boring ride.  People were crammed everywhere; in the nooks aboard the body, on the rack above, in the front seats and even clinging for dear life off the back.

I could have taken the big bus liners to the areas I wanted to go – mostly.  The air condition going through the city would definitely have been nicer.  But I would rather see the Philippines the way it’s seen from the inside – not the outside or looking down.

Mount Pinatubo:

Once near Angeles, I could tell that getting the rest of the way would have to be done a little more discerningly.  Angeles is a dirty, crowded town where little English is spoken.  People are willing enough to help you get to where you need to be.  But the drivers seem more to be out for the buck.

At the local depot, I was approached by lots of “tricycle” drivers asking to take me to my destination.  But I have learned that generally, you don’t want to just jump into the first offered ride when you’re fresh off the boat, so to speak.  So I haggled a little bit and met a few guys that were willing to discuss the idea.

The first price was offered.  I turned it down, of course.  Then I walked a little further and they sort of teamed up against me, saying that this was the regular price and that the distance was far away.

I knew that we were only about seven kilometers from the dropping point for what I had researched was the start of the hike for the mountain.  So I eventually just moved on.  They were not pleased that I had not fallen for their game.

Lesson from memory: be willing to walk away… a long way (in order to A, find out of the driver is serious and B, ensure that you’ve done as much as possible to help guarantee that you’re not the next white dupe to fall out of a bus and right into a scam).

Down the road a little bit, I hopped into the least formidable looking jeepney headed in my general direction and cut my lost time.  On the trip I found just what I needed.  A relative of the person in charge of the next leg of my trip.

Cindy, the cousin of Wendell, had told us that we were approaching O’Donnell Village and that we should stay at her relative’s place overnight and then, in the morning, take his jeep tour into the Pinatubo region for a quick day hike.

And just like that, I had a place to stay, a hookup into the trek up the mountain and the closest thing to a personal guarantee that I had secured the best price possible – the local price.

And what a hookup I had: Wendell turned out to be the president of the Four-Wheel Club in the entire area.  And as a bonus, it was his birthday.  So he was celebrating with a huge banquet of food, complete with servers and free beer.  So, besides the all night bash that included seemingly endless karaoke until all hours of the morning, it was definitely a good night to stay at Wendell’s place.

The next morning I was overcharged for my room and headed toward the mountain.  It was the first time I had been swindled, so I didn’t take it to heart.  And since I’d been given plenty of food and beer the night before, I didn’t really waste much time debating it.  But Wendell gave me a price the previous evening, 500 Pesos, which had somehow turned into a per-head price by morning.  But nevermind that, it was off to see one of the world’s most famous mounds of dirt.

Once at the gate and registered, it was 16 kilometers to the base camp.  From there I’d end up hiking another 12 klicks to the summit.  Or should I say what used to be the summit.

In 1991, Mount Pinatubo breathed its most recent breath (well, the lesser of the famous ones was actually in 1993), casting a billowing haze of smoke, ash and flying debris 40 kilometers into the air and combining its efforts with a tragically coincidental typhoon that had pummeled the west coast that same day, adding insult to injury.  The resulting lahar flowed down the mountain and through the surrounding villages, killing scores of people in its path.

Once I reached the crater left behind by this destruction, I instantly felt the helplessness that must have been a part of the psyche of the victims of this massive sleeping goliath.

Below is a part one of the six-part documentary film, Travel Geek: Documentary Philippines (be sure to subscribe to my channel). It covers much more than this journal. But since I’ve already made the video, I might as well put part one of the six-part series in here to add some reference:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KM7BnYvzRa8]
[Wanna Help?  One way you can help is to sign up for blog updates.  You can also share this video (which can be found on my channel), my photography website and this blog.  Email at least ten of your email contacts who might enjoy it.  Help spread the word so others can enjoy my travels!  If you have any questions, just email me at: cyle@cyleodonnell.com. You can also follow me on facebook, sign up to receive my tweets on Twitter, and see my latest pins on Pinterest!]

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Journal 42: Philippines Day One

First Day in the Philippines:

I’ve chiseled out about two weeks to spend in the Philippines over the New Year holiday, 2011.  During this time, I am interested in seeing two world heritage sites, climbing some mountains, seeing some waterfalls and navigating underground rivers.

This might be an auspicious venture and an unreasonable expectation for Southeast Asia’s black sheep.  But I have been pleasantly surprised at my goal’s relinquished rewards in the past.  So I continue to set my standards high.

Day one sees me landing in Manila.  I landed at about 9:30, well after dark.  And Manila, like many Latin-descended capital cities, it’s not really safe to fumbling the streets late at night.  So I jumped right into a cab and headed for the Stonehouse Hotel, far north of the city.

Strategically, I planned on staying near this location because I wanted to simply leave Manila as soon as possible the next morning.  I had bigger plans in mind.  In fact, my plans stood 1486 meters high as I planned to crest the lower reaches of its summit within the next two days.

The mountain has an amazing recent history.  But first, for reference, I will start on the other side of the world:  In 1980, Mount St. Helens, which sits along the Cascade Range in Washington State, erupted like a nuclear bomb and blew fully grown trees to the ground for hundreds of yards in all directions.  It was so powerful that it recorded a Volcanic Explosivity Index of 5, the most significant in the contiguous 48 states.  It hurled bombs and ash into the air that tormented surrounding states and Canada for months after.


Be sure to check out the Philippines photos at cyleodonnell.com

But when Mt. Pinatubo went of in 1991, it recorded a VEI of 6.  It also coincided with a massive tropical storm that happened to have been battering the coast at the time.  When they met, the water from the heavens created a surge of mud that buried a handful of villages in the mudflow’s wake.  A dozen people died and cleanup and recover took months.  It erupted again two years later.

I didn’t know if I was going to take the longer, more strenuous two-day hike with an overnight, sweating to the temperature-cued crickets choir or if I was going to try and shoot straight through in one day.  But I knew that I was headed for the world’s most recent VEI-6 explosion and currently active volcano, Mount Pinatubo.

But, as is the case in many other times of seeking out the location of desire, the adventure, I was planning, would be in the voyage.

Below is a video of the first part of the trip (be sure to subscribe to my channel). It covers much more than this journal. But since I’ve already made the video, I might as well put part one of the six-part series in here to add some reference:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KM7BnYvzRa8]

[Wanna Help?  One way you can help is to please share this video (which can be found on my channel), my photography website and this blog.  Email at least ten of your email contacts who might enjoy it.  Help spread the word so others can enjoy my travels!  If you have any questions, just email me at: cyle@cyleodonnell.com. You can also follow me on facebook, sign up to receive my tweets on Twitter, and see my latest pins on Pinterest!]

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Come and Find Me!

Greetings all,

You know about my blog and all the traveling that I have been doing, but I wanted to announce the integration of my other photographic and networking pursuits.  So I wanted to add this latest journal entry to reach out and connect to more of you.  And in an effort to do that, I have spent the last few weeks creating profiles on several different social networking sites.  Among them are LinkedIn, Twitter, Facebook, StumbleUpon and others.  So, below, click on the buttons that I have posted to connect with me through these sites if you have a profile on one or more of them and start receiving updates on the latest things that I am researching.

Connect with me on LinkedIn:

View Cyle O'Donnell's profile on LinkedIn

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@cyleodonnell

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Join my group:

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My history with these social media sites is a short one.  So come help me develop!  Be my friend, Like my page, follow, link up, connect, comment, share, and whatever else you can do on these pages.  See who I am following, what sites I am checking out, what gear I am researching, what news stories I am keeping up with.  And best of all, share yours with me.

Hope to see you around!

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journal 41: Hong Kong and the 16-story Chungking Mansion

Hong Kong is a massive rush for any first-timer.  It’s even more so at any time during rush-hour.  It was amazing when I found a street, like the one above, that wasn’t completely packed with foot traffic.

Laborers throwing bags of rice from a truck; rich folk chatting away on their Blackberries; book-reading, iPod-flicking zombies pausing just inches before bumping into passersby as they come barreling into their shallow field of vision.  It’s a maze of trollies, Mercedes, buses, overhead walkways and cryptic alleys selling everything from pantyhose to Christmas lights.  And amid all this, surprisingly no other photographers.

For this trip, I made a special effort to work a my new style of photography that I have been wanting to integrate into my repertoire.  And it requires a tripod with a nice head and the ability to hold at least 8Kg of camera body and lens attachments.  So there I was, mid-sidewalk, setup and ready to shoot as the sea of people flowed around me, and I got the sense, for the first time while traveling, that I was no longer worried of being the victim of any type of robbery.

I know that sounds strange, but I am constantly on the lookout for quick hands, have an ever-present eye on my bag and know where all my camera gear is at all times.  But I suppose I took more comfort than usual in the massive swell of bodies in motion all around me.  I wouldn’t have been able to chase anyone down, shout at someone or for help or have much chance of even knowing if I was actually the victim of pick-pocketing.  But I was at ease nonetheless.

I guess that feeling came mostly because I was a point of attraction in the street.  So all the eyes peering in my direction acted as a web of security for anyone ballsy enough to approach and steal something from me.  It would probably be the equivalent of walking onto a stage in the middle of a ballet and trying to steal a tutu.  It was pretty refreshing, actually.  After all, this is no small city; and indeed no city which was unfamiliar with crime of all kinds.

But before I start a tangent, I want to discuss some items that will be shortly upcoming for this blog, blog #41, the content of future blogs and the big plans that I have for the future of the blog in general.  

For this blog, I’d like to introduce a new technique that I have been interested in since my Korea trip.  I wanted to do more of it on that trip, but I limited it mostly to gathering a style, hammering in the technique and then working on solid post-production.  This new technique is called High Dymanic Range photography, or HDR for short.

This type of photography consists of creating several frames of the same image at different exposures and capitalizing on their ability to draw from different gradients of light to maximize the feel of “being there,” visually speaking.  As you’re standing in a place, your eyes do a much better job of analyzing light as it truly appears.  The problem that cameras innately have, is that they can expose for only one temperature of light at a time.  This can be manipulated with the use of filters, multiple masking layers in editing and of course the software itself has, to some extent, the ability to draw out the other underexposed areas.

But when a camera can bracket several exposures almost simultaneously, it makes the work of getting the right all-around exposure pretty easy business.  And with new technology, powerful thinking by photographic creatives and lots of financial backing, software has come about that makes that process much easier.  But while HDR not only increases the amount of time needed to dedicate for still images on location, but adds a step in an already very tedious production process for large catalogs of images (that ultimately I have to deal with after every trip), it is much more rewarding once the final product is in.  The image at the top of this blog is the exact result of what I am describing here.  It is the way light hits the eyes naturally, exposing the under-eve locations of the scene just as would your eye’s quick and long-adapted ability to do so.

This image is another one of my favorites from the Hong Kong Collection.

This dramatic lighting comes from the multiple exposures that were created during a series of high-speed, continuous shooting that my Nikon has the ability to do, freezing the action sequence in a way that makes it possible to layer several different exposures into a single image.

But more about that later.  Another part of the plans that I have for this blog is the addition of two very exciting things.  I will be adding a discussion section of the newest gear that I am interested in like photographic equipment, travel guides and equipment, books, different websites that I keep up with and lots more to make things interesting.  And the other point that I am excited to be bringing to the blog is a photography contest!

I will be hosting a new photo contest each month with prizes for first and second place.  And lots of cool extras for participants.  But since this blog can’t handle that kind of memory (or won’t, really), I have opened up a new website that I will be announcing shortly.  There are some really great things afoot, so be sure to stay tuned for the latest on what’s happening.

And as for the blog that will be carried over to the new site, I want to also introduce new features that I have wanted to implement and that I think will really be good for the site (and that you will enjoy seeing).  Firstly, I plan on putting up lots of videos.  I liked seeing them in other blogs that I subscribe to and I have regretted not putting more emphasis on that here.  Travel videos, tutorials, discussions on the latest gear that’s out there are all going to be part of my upcoming videos.

Secondly, I will also have a member’s area where you can log on, post links to your site, get your photos seen, link to your twitter account or Facebook and even start discussions of what interests you in the worlds of travel, writing and photography.

I want to form a community where I, and others, can come and keep up with others out there traveling, writing and doing what they love (and all those who live vicariously through them).  But I will be discussing that more in upcoming blogs.  For now, though, I have the great Hong Kong to blog about.  Don’t worry, I will be talking about my newest favorite gear in this blog as well.

Lastly, I have several books slated to be published next year and, as well as portraits and landscapes, I will be hosting them on this and my photography site.  I will give some of them away as prizes and will also host books by other authors like me trying to gain more exposure.  I will, of course, be doing this overseas, so you’ll have to be willing to wait a few weeks for delivery if you’re the lucky winner.  But I will get you your prizes, I promise.

But I don’t want to stray too far from the norm of the blog just yet.  So in light of the mention of my interest in discussing books, I wanted to point out one that I purchased while I was in Hong Kong.  It’s a great read and it’s written by Gordon Matthews, a professor of anthropology at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, who’s taken a really interesting avenue for his research.  He’s stayed at least one night at the Chungking Mansions each week for the three years preceding this book (and I am willing to bet, a few more).  In his book, Ghetto at the Center of the World, he describes the Chungking Mansion as a dilapidated, 16-story commercial and residential structure in the heart of Hong Kong’s tourist district.  It’s home to a remarkably motley group of people including traders, laborers, asylum seekers, drug dealers, prostitutes  and even foreign workers who return home once every few months.

Of course, I stayed there as well.  And I have to say, the research alone that went into this book had to be pretty entertaining.  Every night there was some really amazing activities afoot right outside the gates.  The on-duty security guards mostly laughed along with the residents at what was happening.  But I didn’t feel unsafe (mostly) while I was there.

I can say, though, that this little building that would be boarded up and locked down for fear of collapse in many other countries, was a truly amazing oddity to be sandwiched amid the looming towers in the multinational headquarters of the world’s financial mecca.  Multinational corporations and global companies might barely even lift a proverbial eye brow in its direction.  But this dusty edifice probably had more character attraction on one floor than several of its goliath neighbors put together.

Anyway, it’s a great read if you get the chance to pick it up.  But what better way to paint a picture of my experience in Hong Kong.  It was really great.  And the people were something unexpected, too.

As far as the city goes, from the cobbles in the alleyways to the marble floors at Starbucks, this, like many other huge, Asian cities, was basically a huge shopping mall.  But the people were what made it surprising.  Mostly they kept to themselves.  But when bumped into (which was a rare occurrence indeed) there was always a hand wave and an apologetic look which was normally followed by an “excuse me.”  And that reminds me, everyone speaks English in Hong Kong.  So if you’re on your way there, you don’t have to worry about brushing up on your Cantonese first.  But while you might not want to carry all those extra pieces of luggage through this unforgiving maze of concrete, you may want to overpack your wallet.  This place is EX-PENS-IVE.  And by no means should you take that lightly.  You will go through more money here than most other places you’ll go.  Make no mistake about that.

Not only is the exchange rate very difficult to quickly calculate mentally, it’s also difficult to bargain with people here because they’re so used to catering to so many currencies that they will try and work into other denominations to make it sound like a better deal.  Talk about a headache.  My calculator was the first thing to materialize when I approached any booth, table or counter — long before the money came out.

The trip wasn’t that long, really.  All I had to do was get my residence visa worked out for Taiwan and check into my Myanmar tourist visa for my next visit there early next year.  So the rest of the time was spent in book stores, checking out the sites, photographing amazing street action and, oh yeah, the best part: sailing through Victoria Harbor and Kowloon Bay.  I have wanted to do that for so long.

Downsides to HK: if you’re not used to walking on inclined planes, you’ll be dead within hours of arriving.  That, or you’ll simply never get anything done.  Walking is everything.  And everything is slanted vertically.  So start your hikes early in preparation for a visit.

Upside, you can get anything you want here (and I mean that literally).  And for being in Asia for the last three years, it’s nice to get an American cheeseburger and fries with real pickles and real ketchup/mayo and all the trimmings.  Quite enjoyable.

Don’t forget to drop by the website, cyleodonnell.com, and check out the new Hong Kong gallery.

Until next time, happy trails!

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journal 40: Reflections and updates

So it’s my 40th Journal update and I thought, being such a nice, round number, I would update my blog to reflect the newest additions to my website.

Firstly, as a recent Matador University Photography Alumnus, I have learned lots that will undoubtedly help me navigate the waters of creating more exciting blogs.  This will include videos, photography discussions, a weekly favorite pick of the best photographs on the internet as well as the latest gear to come into the mainstream. And I will be looking for input from readers that are interested in more.

Here’s my graduation banner:

My website, cyleodonnell.com, is in it’s third year, while the photo galleries, books and blogs have been running since 2005 and, to some extent, beyond.  And during that time, I have trekked nearly 30 nations, ridden my bicycle through 12 countries, written 10 books, produced a database containing more than 25,000 images and made a dozen films from my research and documentary photography.

It’s been a blast.  It’s been an amazing and highly recommended experience.  And sometimes, it’s even been bittersweet.  But it’s never been disappointing.

Please stop by and visit the website.  Check out the newest additions to the photography section and then come back to the blog and post a comment here telling me what you think.  The website is cyleodonnell.com/photography.  And it’s a “Hover” site.  Just hover the mouse over the link on the menu until another menu appears.  It’s not really intuitive, and because of that, I have made menus on all of the pages just in case you accidentally click early.  So you’ll need some patience in navigating the links.

Updates include: Indonesia galleries; a new gallery in the Thailand page as well as updates to the galleries in Thailand; North and South Korea galleries; more Malaysia galleries; a new Singapore gallery; and the publication of my newest book which will be available soon.

Just click HERE.

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Journal 39: Day 14: Home from Korea

Well, I am home and finally settled from the two weeks in Korea.  It was an amazing experience.  Overall, Korea is a place of hidden gems.  There is a sense of “manufactured” environment in many of the parks and reserves.  But in all that, it’s still something to be experienced.  It has a sense of human manipulation that I haven’t seen anywhere else.  It’s like they had a picture of what the environment was supposed to look like.  And instead of simply leaving nature to its course, they “made” it look permanently to their scale of how it should stay.

And it’s things like that which make Korea unique.  Of course there are beautiful places that have been left to the elements and have weathered into wonderful view-scapes of hillside and country.  And there are plenty of peaks to climb and villages to see.  But I think if you’ve ever been in a place where you look at something and your eyes don’t immediately register the information in your brain and you eventually figure out that it’s just an obscure scene; that’s what Korea is.  The customs and traditional life that takes place here, even with pop culture and fashion trickling in from all sides, are the stranger of the two things that your brain thinks your eyes are creating an images of.   You just know that what you’re seeing in Korea could quite possibly be normal.  But upon further investigation, they’re simply not.  They are the refined items that Korea has created over the years.  And there they sit; seemingly normal but profoundly off-centered.

As my time passed traveling throughout the Korean Peninsula, I was reminded of the joys of traveling to these new and fascinating places.  I was gifted with the insights of a new way of thinking.  I achieved experiential knowledge and the lessons it uses at imparting that knowledge.  And I had a peak into a new world with new rules.  It was truly something that I won’t forget.
Soon, I will be headed for Hong Kong; a city straddling the Bay of Victoria and bursting with lights and sounds of a busy metropolis.  I hope to come back with great photos of architecture, nightlife and of course, the people who make it all run.  It will be my forth time passing through, but this time I plan on putting in some time and visiting as much of it as I can.

Until then, I hope that you have all enjoyed this latest entry into my blog of travel and research from around the globe.  And I hope to have you back with me soon.

Be sure to go to my website, cyleodonnell.com, for the best and newest photography from these and other travels and for my latest books available through the site.  I hope to have at least two more published in the next six months.  So keep an eye out!

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Journal 38: Day 13: A dodgy, little love motel on my last day in the Korean Peninsula

So it’s my last night here in Korea.  I decided to leave Jeju and come to Incheon where, I once thought, the city’s Chinatown held new opportunities for some great market photographs or architecture.  I was, I guess, hoping for some Chinese temples where I could snap a few shots of the animals cresting their eves or a dragon greeting me at the entrance.  Maybe I was expecting lots of commotion as bustling streets flowed with people moving goods and foodstuffs around with a sense of navigation that westerners can only stand back and gawk at.  Or perhaps I was hoping for some food that swelled with the heat that comes off it, food that you don’t have to crack open or cook yourself.

Alas, there was nothing.  Or perhaps I should say, there was nothing worth taking photos of.  Drab and somber, the entire area looked more like it was the outskirts of something much more interesting.  Its grimy streets and heavy overcast gave it a feel of old timey poverty just before a dustbowl was set to come in and put to rest any fleeting images of holding on to the last few drumbeats of an economic heartbeat.  It seemed like this was the place that was bashed with North Korean gunfire back in 2010.  But even that place was not far from here.  Only about 30 kilometers or so.

At any rate, I followed what I thought were Lonely Planet’s directions for a motel near the subway that I would take in the morning to get to the airport.  But after walking way too far with all my gear, I finally just used my visual knowledge of reading Korean signage and found a motel across the street from a pizza joint and down the block from a subway entrance and called it a night.  These two landmarks represented what my will had been ground down to; food and the quickest way to exit this country.  I’m certainly not regretting my time here.  It just seems like, now that the end is right around the corner, I may as well get it over with.

Anyway, apparently in my learning of Korean advertisements, I could read enough to know that the sign said “motel.”  But clearly I hadn’t learned what the text for “love” was.  When I checked in, I thought that it was odd that they owners didn’t give me a key to my room.  They also kept asking me in Korean if it was going to be just me in the room.  I kept saying that I, alone, was going to be sleeping and needed a key to protect my valuables.  But they were simply not happy with my response.

Before I go on, I think it would be better if I explained just what a “love motel” and its purpose is.  Now, normally one would simply think, ‘Oh, well it’s obviously a cathouse and there’s nothing more to think about it.’  But, like most other things here in Asia, it has a deeper meaning and purpose.  And, make no mistake, its meaning and purpose follow lines to a source that hold no bearing on whether or not the western world would approve or even understand that logic.

A love motel can be rented by the night or by the hour.  A man can get a room alone, wake up with a woman and never feel shame from the owners as he’s checking out.  The owners of these establishments generally offer a woman to single men checking in and can suggest a man for the single ladies.  A love motel is a place most often occupied by actual couples.  But it can also be used as a discrete meeting place for strangers.

In America, it undoubtedly seems a little strange that a couple would check into a hotel for one night – or even a few hours.  It might also come off as odd that the owners might have some say in the eventuality in the population of each room’s occupancy.  It may also come as a huge shock that these motels have resident “lovers” who, from birth, have lived there to pay off their parent’s debt as sex slaves.  But then again, there are many things that Americans will never understand about what goes on in this strange corner of the world.

As the tradition goes in most parts of Asia, it is expected that the children, once married, move into the house of the husband’s parents.  It’s also expected that the wife becomes, for lack of a more polite description, a slave to the parents – fulfilling chores, errands and other demands.  Keeping in good with a family that demands strict adherence to a very conservative lifestyle, then, becomes an everyday challenge.  Sex, therefore, is a bit of an uncomfortable item which brings a lot of stress to the already difficult nature of a new marriage.

Love motels sprang up out of the resulting need for privacy in these new relationships in the turning of the world’s traditional ways.  These motels were first used as places for dating couples to spend anything from a few days of relaxation to just a quick visit between their busy lives.  From there, of course, the Asian culture of why-can’t-we-have-everything-we-want came into play and they started to gain popularity for other types of visits.  And as for the lifetime resident lovers; well, that was a tradition long preceding the invention of the love motel.

For thousands of years the ideals of Buddhism played into the perpetual cycle of reincarnation and parents thought once their daughters were born when they were expecting a boy, it was their karma giving them the requirement of payment for their ills in previous lives.  So giving up their daughters as payment for this karma was the right thing to do.  Their daughters, in turn, were taught their life of sexual servitude was them paying off their karma as well – otherwise, why would they have been born as the payment of their parent’s karma?

It makes a lot more sense once you have been living in Asia for a while and can understand the mentality of all the intricacies of what goes along with the absolute and unquestioning belief in rebirth.

So there I was, being probed by the owners of this motel and the lady starts moving her hands through her hair.  I had no idea what this meant until some time later.  But once she was satisfied – though not very pleased – knowing that I would be staying one night, alone and not be in need of anything “else” from them, she came up with her price and charged me for the room.

Once checked in, I dug out some cash and went across the street to the pizza place for edible, non-seafood that I didn’t have to break the shells off of or barbecue myself.  On the way, though, I kept wondering what the lady meant when she was combing her hands through her hair.  And it eventually came to me.  She was asking me if I wanted a woman for the night.  Then all the other mannerisms came into understanding as well.

The couple were upset that I didn’t want a woman because they could charge me more for the room.  They were displeased that I would only make them money on the room when, ultimately, this was not the kind of place where they only charge for the room.  This also explained the delay in coming up with a price for the room – essentially an overcharge.  And they didn’t give me a key because they wanted me to ask them for the key every time I wanted to enter the room because they didn’t want me hiring a woman from the street or from the little paper advertisements I would see taped up to the underside of steps throughout the alleyways all over the city.  That was the competition.  And for these elderly, Asian pimps, that’s just not the kind of place they run.

Since having been back in Taiwan, I have done more research into this and have talked to natives who indicate the benefit of short-term motels is much greater than having to put up with the prying eyes and ears of older, more traditional parents who would just as soon have their daughter-in-laws doing back-breaking work than to spend their nights corrupting their respectable son’s sensibilities.  They also confirmed that the majority of the love motel’s use was limited to these situations rather than for the sex-shops they’d more easily become reputed as being.

Nevertheless, my last night in Korea did little more to put me at ease but ultimately summed up all my experiences in that amazing country.  No matter where you go in Korea, you’re sure to find yourself in one inextricably unique situation after another as you navigate the intricate web of peculiarities of everything from traditional Hanok Villages kept in the old ways complete with dances to entice the soil’s richness, to parks dedicated to phallic splendor.

Stay tuned for my last blog on my Korea trip and a toast for things to come.

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Journal 37: Day 13: Soegwipo-Si and the motorbike ride to broken bones and freedom

If it’s not the broken foot that made this trip great, it was certainly the motorbike that broke it.  This trip was just what I needed after a night of gloom and a hangover that threatened to chew its way right out of my abdomen like some alien movie.  But all things considered, that would have probably been an experience all in itself.  And therefore, I’d probably embrace it as I have the rest of the oddities along this long, winding road carved into the limestone bedrock of the Korean Peninsula.

The day started off great.  I was up at 6am to hop a bus to the south of the island where I would take part in one or more of several key items listed on Lonely Planet’s inventory of must-see’s abound.  They ranged in definition from slightly dangerous to downright taboo.   And I was navigating my morning in the wake of a fresh detox.  So what I saw was a recipe for fun and ordered up a heaping helping of misadventure with a side order of senselessness.

Unfortunately, one hour into my ride I found out that I was not on the right bus.  But that was only a minor setback because I had plotted points all over the map that I wanted to see and there were a couple in that direction as well.

Once off the bus, I snapped a couple pictures of the volcanic tuffs in the horizon.  Then I went on what turned out to be an early morning 5k walk and found out the hard way that this stretched out town along the sea was no place for a sweaty westerner with an expectation for seeing all there was to see in just one day.  It just wasn’t going to happen in the time I had if I had to walk it all the way.

 

I eventually came across this little shop run by an older couple.  The husband had a cap that I hired as the mule that would save me from walking another 10 kilometers into town.  But whether I was walking or in a whatever I employed to speed up my sweaty trek, the Korean oddities just kept coming.  All along the roadway there were things that just looked normal being in Korea, but so abnormal had they been in any other place.

On the other hand, the people that have added so much flavor to the preceding moments of this trip were out in full flavor as well.  I snapped a shot of this shipbuilder grinding down the last of his nicks and burrs off the anchor he’d been repairing.  And the closer that I came to the capital city of the south of the island, Seogwipo, the more interesting the buildings looked and the more flavorful the people.  

Once in town, I headed straight for the oceanfront.  It was very quiet all around, but I made my way to the pier and could tell that it was going to be a nice, bright day with lots of opportunities for great shots.

Looking directly across the inlet, I could see what looked like a huge park with inlets hidden by the large, vertical pillars building up the volcanic rock wall.  I’d find out later that there were plenty of great little hikes, waterfalls and seaside resting areas to check out along the way.

What I expected to find was these amazing geological oddities.  But along with finding them, I also found some other amazing things in the area.

Columnar basalt rock comes from areas of high submarine volcanic eruptions.  Once the magma opens up on the sea floor, it quickly hardens, creating conditions where jointed columns of volcanic flows can be forced up over the seabed and given a longer time to cool and, under pressure, make large, polygonal pilasters.   The areas where millions of these pillars (and other basalt formations) have been pushed up through the ocean floor to the surface are called “tuffs.”  They are also known as pyroclastic rock formations.  But whatever they were called, I was on my way to see the most awesome tuff I of all.  Well, besides the fact that it was a famous one, it was technically going to be the only one I have ever seen.  But I was no less excited to do so.

But before getting there, I knew I had to rent a motorbike to see all that this spread out expanse of land had to offer.  So, on the way, I found a a place to grab a bite and sat on the steps inside to fuel up before I kept on.  While I was sitting there, though, I noticed and interesting sign.

Now, I have seen a lot of strange translations on signs throughout Asia.  And most of the time, I wonder how this translation got all the way through the design phase, through production, printing, constructing and finally even being posted without someone actually reading it and wondering if there might be a better translation out there somewhere.  In fact, I often wonder if anyone actually even asked a white person how this phrase was supposed to be worded before putting up a ridiculous sign that means something much more comical than the author had intended.  But this one definitely perplexed me.  It was a sign on a trash bin.  And, well I will just let you see if you can try and figure out what the hell they were trying to tell you what to put in there other than your dog.

Walking along the coast was great.  I really liked the gardens and the way they were kept.  It was cool to see so much use of the volcanic rock that was so readily available.  And the things they crafted with it include everything from fences and sculptures to stepping stones and even curbs and sidewalks.

Moving onward, I could see that I was nearing a large waterfall that I had known would be around there somewhere.  It was cool.  Just a quick hike down and I was at its base.  It was very tall — 20 meters or so.  And I could see that during seasons of high rainfall, this could really be a very active one.

After that I made my way back up the hill and into town where I rented a motorbike and set off westward to circle the eastern roadways and head back to eventually make it back to the hotel on the other side of the island.  It was a long, comfortable ride punctuated with wonderful seascapes and vistas of people, animals and object of a very diverse nature in their own world.  It was something I won’t soon forget.

But another thing I won’t soon forget is the crash that snapped my left foot completely backward and left me limping for days as my blue-black ankle swelled to near bursting before the trip even started.  I wish that I could say that I wrecked to save some poor child who’d run into the road after is bouncy play thing had found him careening into my path and it was either him or me.  I wish I could say that the bike malfunctioned and the brakes went out, sending me barreling into the curb at an uncontrollable speed and I dove from the bike having known what to do in an instant’s notice and rolled to safety.  Hell, I wish I could say anything but the truth.  Which is that I turned to look at some random noise that happened behind me and when I turned back around, I was half-a-second away from plowing into the curb.  But I must admit the truth.  And when I hit the curb for lack of operable ability to manipulate the handlebars with cat-like calculation, I was sent over the handle bars and then the bike came over top of me.

It was completely embarrassing.  But what’s worse is that I scuffed up my favorite pair of shoes.  They remind me of Indiana Jones.  They’ve been with me for the last seven years of travel.  They’re so comfortable.  And they’ve even been resoled to keep me from having to try fruitlessly to find a size-12 in Asia to replace them.  They’re great.  And the best part is that I bought them for $10 at a thrift shop in Mercer Island, outside Seattle, Washington.  I will be oiling the hell out of them to try and save them.  But I am not holding out too much hope.  Time will tell.

 

Making my way to the tuff it was so awesome when I finally breached the last turn before seeing it tower high above the mainland below.  I had no idea that it was that big or amazing.  It was really something impressive.  Hiking up its western side, there’s only one way that you can view it.  But it was enough to be impressed.  The surrounding area from the top is really interesting, too.  It’s sea-chiseled bluffs and land jetties were quite random and beautiful from way up there.  Here are a few photos of the climb and the surrounding area.

You can click on them to enlarge the photo just like in the galleries.

Well, this could be a very long journal if I detail every single experience that I had while pulling over to all the awesome places that I saw along the way back around the coast.  But I think I will just add in a gallery and hope that the photos will fill in the blanks.  It was an awesome trip and I was so happy that I got to do it — injuries and all.

Remember, click to enlarge!

Okay, there’s one more blog on the way and I will be home from Korea.