Royal Korean procession through Incheon Airport
One of the many reasons I love Korea – cultural experiences in the airport!
People are funny creatures
These pictures document one of the funniest sights I saw in Italy last year: the walkway leading to the Pisa Tower.
For about a quarter mile, all you see are people with their arms thrown up in the air “supporting” the leaning monument. Some of the more creative tourists try to “eat” the tower or “kiss” it or “lift” it. Most people are enthusiastic, really hamming it up for the camera. Others are like, “Just take the picture and get me out of here.”
I witnessed one argument break out between a couple. The woman couldn’t hit the pose that her boyfriend was art directing her to make. He got out from behind his camera to move her arms, hands, legs and hips into the “right” position. Heated words flew between the two. She did not smile for her picture. This is serious stuff, people! (You can see this couple in the fourth-to-the-last photograph.)
The last picture is my Mom in the Pisa pose most people seemed to be aiming for: hand supporting the tower, body leaning slightly back (because the building is so heavy, you know?) and a smile on her face. Bonus points for planting one foot in the street for extra support.
Cherry Blossom Parade
Above: The most beautiful but least interesting floats in the parade.
Below: Crowds, crowds and more crowds! Lots of kids were equally scared and excited by the revelry. I love DC.
The science behind altruism
I just listened to this great Radiolab episode called “The Good Show,” which is about why people help each other. The most intriguing bit to me was interviews with winners of the Carnegie Hero Award: the woman who saved a stranger from being mauled by a bull, the man who pulled a stranger off subway tracks just as a train was coming. The question posed was, Why do some people help strangers while others just stand by?
The episode reminded me of something that happened when I lived in Jersey City, N.J., about 12 years ago. Not that I am calling myself a hero, not in the least. But here’s the story:
It was 9 o’clock on a Saturday night and I had just gotten off the PATH train from New York. I scurried through the turnstile and started running for my bus when I heard someone crying to my left. I stopped. There was a girl, probably about seven years old, standing near the fare machines, bawling her eyes out. She looked scared. Lots of adults stared at her, missing maybe a beat or two in their steps while perhaps figuring out if they should get involved. No one stopped to help. I was young enough to feel I wasn’t quite an adult yet and I couldn’t believe none of the “grown ups” was talking with the girl, or at least offering her a tissue.
I walked over and asked the girl her name.
“Where’s your Mom or Dad?” I asked.
“Don’t know,” she cried. “My auntie was with me but I can’t find her.” I wished I had a tissue to give the girl.
“Where do you live?”
“Near —– Street.” More crying.
“What’s your address?”
“I don’t know.” Harder crying.
I gave the girl a little hug and held her hand.
I wondered how a child this age could not know her address.
I decided to send the girl home in a cab. I didn’t even think of escorting her until a taxi driver told me he absolutely was not taking her alone – I had to come with the girl. I suddenly felt flustered and mortified that in my eagerness to help the girl I almost sent her off with this male cabbie. Some altruistic stranger I was!
For the next half hour we three drove all around Jersey City trying to figure out where the little girl lived. Up and down Kennedy Boulevard, past the PATH station again, around the park. Yellow street lights twinkled. I thought we’d be driving all night. Finally, the girl, who had been peering out the window the whole time, yelled with recognition of her neighborhood, then her house.
I walked the girl to the door, where the Mom answered and promptly screamed at her and hit her before shoving her inside. The screen door sprung shut and the front door slammed. The Mom didn’t even tell me thank you.
Thinking Day | A cross-cultural food experience
One of my best memories of being a Girl Scout in Jeddah was celebrating Thinking Day. This was when Girl Scouts and Girl Guides from other countries living in the city got together for one big hoe-down. Okay, not exactly a hoe-down, but one big cultural exchange.
The day began with a procession of scouts from each country carrying that country’s flag. I always wanted to carry the United States flag. I thought it would be fun to march around in my green uniform and hold the flag straight up. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t drop it. I never got to find out. Instead, I sat on my school gym floor with hundreds of other scouts as groups of girls glided by with flags, including those of India, the United Kingdom, France, Pakistan, the United States and Saudi Arabia. The Saudi Girl Scouts fascinated me the most as they appeared to have run to the fabric store and wrapped themselves in bolts of gray cloth from head to toe. Well, except their faces, thank goodness.
What does any of this have to do with these photographs here, apparently taken in the present time, at my present home, without anyone wearing a Girl Scout uniform? (Though that would be kind of cool.) Well, Thinking Day also involved food. And the other night, as Dulce (from Mexico), Ting-Ya (from Taiwan) and I (half from South Korea), cooked foods from our countries, I remembered Thinking Day. How lucky am I that more than 20 years later, I keep having interesting cross-cultural experiences with my friends?
Ting-Ya showed us the massive amounts of preparation that go into creating a Taiwanese dish. I showed them how to make kimbap. Pictured above is the very first one I’ve ever made without my Mom’s assistance. And Dulce made an American salad with ingredients all the colors of Mexico’s flag. Now I’m thinking of throwing a Thinking Day-type dinner party, where everyone brings a dish from a different country. Yum!
Road trip
It’s always nice to hit the road and see something new. Yesterday we drove to Philadelphia and visited the Mutter Museum, which houses a fascinating collection of medical specimens ranging from an 8-foot-long colon to a cabinet full of skulls to a catalog of hundreds of items swallowed by people and recovered by medical professionals. (Unfortunately, no photography was allowed inside.) I’m glad we ate our lunch before walking the museum’s halls.
As we drove up, I challenged myself to photograph what a road trip looks like only on the inside of the car and mostly in detail shots. If only we’d been driving for hours and hours I’d have photographs of empty water bottles and chip bags and magazines and napkins strewn everywhere like some kind of mobile trash dump. Come to think of it, that’s sort of how my car looked like when I shot for newspapers. I should recategorize the shots in this post: This is what a two-hour road trip looks like in the car of a non-journalist, shot only on the inside of the car and mostly in details.
Night walk down Massachusetts Avenue
10th Street.
One night in mid-November I decided to walk from Union Station to Dupont Circle via Massachusetts Avenue. It’s about two-and-a-half miles, and I usually walk portions of this route during my daily daytime routine. As I walked I thought about how the two-and-a-half miles as a whole is a walk I never would have done when I lived in DC 13 years ago. Back then, Mass Ave. between Union Station and 11th Street was decrepit with little reason to stroll at night, unless you wanted to be mugged. Since then, all the downtown neighborhoods adjacent to Mass Ave. have blossomed (or fallen to gentrification, depending on your view.)
Walking along Mass Ave. last month, I was surprised by how many things I saw that I never notice during the day: a sticker on the ground, a shadow on the wall. I became especially enamored of the trees, which glowed in the street lights like sea-dwelling plants you’d never want to tangle with. (I’ve posted only one tree picture here so you don’t get bored by all the other ones.) I might make a habit of walking down all of DC’s main arteries at night and photographing what I see.
3rd Street
8th Street
5th Street
4th Street
14th Street
4th Street
Accra, Ghana
On my way back from Liberia last month, I took advantage of a 14-hour layover in Accra, Ghana, by exploring as much of the city as possible. I loved feeling and hearing the Atlantic Ocean from the other side of the world than usual. The waves seemed stronger and louder in Africa than in the United States, which might explain why there were so few people at the shore. Just a few minutes walk from the beach is Independence Square, a large parade ground flanked by the Independence Arch and the Independence Monument. In a way, its layout and vastness reminded me of Tiananmen Square in Beijing, but a bit smaller and with fewer tourists.
Relaxing on Cape Cod
This was exactly what I needed ahead of all my upcoming adventures. More to come…..
Kayaking on the Potomac River
It was the first un-humid, un-sweltering day in weeks when P. and I decided to knock an adventure off our “Top 10 Things To Do This Summer” list: kayaking on the Potomac River. Oh, the gorgeous views we saw! Georgetown, the Lincoln Memorial and Roosevelt Island, a rainbow, ducks – I saw them all in a way I’d never seen them before. Still, I was disappointed to find trash floating all over the river. At first, it was just a bottle here and there. I actually picked up an empty Pepsi bottle, vowing to myself I would pick up any more trash we found. But then it became clear this task would be overwhelming. Ugh.
Assisi, Italy
(My mom patiently waited 20 minutes while I waited for the moment above to happen so I could photograph it. Oh, what is it like to have a child so intensely interested in something you don’t care about as much? Thanks, Mom!)
Assisi was by far my favorite stop on the Catholic Extravaganza Tour with my mom. The city is a landscape photographer’s dream: untouched by modern architecture, filled with winding medieval walkways and perched on a hilltop overlooking a vast, green valley. The city’s main draw is St. Francis Basilica, the 13th-century UNESCO World Heritage site that’s the final resting place for St. Francis, who founded the Franciscans. Walking around this old town I could imagine Francis and his followers (including St. Clare, or Santa Chiara, as she’s called in Italian) spreading the Gospel, much to the consternation of some family and friends.
Most everything in Assisi closed by 7 PM, so Mom and I had plenty of time to relax. For me, that meant attending vespers, taking pictures and wandering around. For mom, that meant attending vespers or evening services at one of the half-dozen churches. Mom and I wondered how such a small city – the population is about 3,000 – could support so many churches. Do they not have the priest shortage problem we have in the US? Or is the fact that Assisi is such a global tourist destination enough for the diocese there to keep all the Assisi churches well-manned?
One of the most pleasing and surprising parts of our Assisi visit was our stay at St. Anthony’s Guest House, which is run by Franciscans (of course). I booked a room only a couple days before we arrived, expecting something a step above a hostel. Indeed, the place was sparsely furnished but oh-so comfortable, friendly and pleasant. Every morning they woke up the guests for breakfast by pumping soft classical music over the speaker system. When I visit Assisi again I’ll definitely be sleeping at St. Anthony’s.
St. Francis Basilica
The start of my obsession with Santa Chiara plaza.
Santa Chiara Church, which I consider to be the most gorgeous of the many churches in Assisi.
Flags hanging from a building near Santa Chiara plaza
Assisi as seen from Rocca Maggiore, the hilltop fortress.
Playing with light in Santa Chiara plaza.
Even the grass near a parking lot was beautiful!
This was the start of my obsession with beautiful door knockers
Tourists sitting on a wall outside St. Francis Basilica
Mom standing in a perfect ring of light in Assisi.
Assisi is the home of St. Francis, founder of the Franciscans, known for wearing sandals
Red flowers like these hang everywhere in Assisi.
Sunset at Santa Chiara plaza
Happy 4th of July!
Fireworks over National Harbor
Union Army reenactment band in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia
St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City
I didn’t expect the avenue leading to St. Peter’s Basilica to be lined with palm trees.
Outdoor climbing in Carderock, Maryland
After one year of intermittent indoor climbing, Angie and I climbed outdoors for the first time last month, in Carderock, Maryland (she’s wearing the grey shirt, I’m wearing the orange shirt). Oh, the vertical maze of tiny, rough and random footholds in real rocks vs climbing walls! I learned that I have to trust myself and my body. This is harder than you might imagine when you’re 15 feet up, clinging to the side of a rock, balancing on three toes on a small, jutting pebble and desperately scanning the seemingly-flat rock surface for another small, jutting pebble that spells salvation because it just might make a fabulous next step. “I don’t know where to go next. Can you help me?” was my oft-repeated request to folks on the ground. I slipped and slid many times. And I learned I’m not as brave as I thought I was, thus the yelling whenever I slipped and slid, and then the giving up a couple times before I made it to the top. Still, I enjoyed the challenge – and the fresh air – and look forward to climbing outdoors again.
Mom, the world traveler, in Paris
Doesn’t my Mom look so cute in this picture? This is as close* as she and I got to famous Paris monuments during what I’ve dubbed our “Catholic Extravaganza Tour,” a 2+ week adventure through pilgrimage sites in France, Italy and Germany. At this point in the journey – the beginning, that is – my Mom was still oh-so willing to let me photograph her. By the end, she was tired of her personal paparazzi. But hey! She now has some of the most awesome and candid vacation shots ever. I’ll be sharing more of them over the next couple weeks.
*We had planned to use our five-hour layover in Paris to venture into the city for lunch. But Air France didn’t cooperate with us. Our flight left DC late and we had just enough time in Paris to transfer from one airport to another, where we caught our next flight.
(Above: That's me photographing while snowshoeing through a snowstorm. Picture by 