The people who live in some houses do literally ‘live in colour’. Blues, pinks, yellows, reds – or even all of them at once! While we do have some cheerfully painted houses in the UK, they tend to be the exception, and even then, pastel colours are usually preferred over brights. But in other parts of the world, it seems, the brighter the better.
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In the US they are store fronts and in the UK we call them shop fronts, but whatever you call them they can be attractive / bizarre / interesting / or most often, just dull. We barely notice the dull ones that we see every day, so when we come across one that isn’t it is bound to stand out. No wonder many of us stop to take a photo!
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When Columbus arrived in Central and South America, to be followed by the Spanish conquistadors and other Europeans, they found a land rich in gold. But it wasn’t especially valued for its rarity or as a means of payment by the indigenous peoples of the Americas. Instead it held profound spiritual significance.
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In the early morning mist we drifted slowly with the current, our boat man using his single oar simply to steer us. Here on the Narayani River, which skirts the northern boundary of Chitwan National Park in Nepal, the setting was beautiful, the atmosphere tranquil.
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Every ancient mythology placed significant focus on our sun, recognising it as our essential source of light, heat, and life. Without it we would not exist, nor would anything on this planet. Today we understand the science behind the phenomenon, but to the ancients the reappearance of the sun each morning after the hours of darkness must have seemed like a daily miracle.
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In the ancient streets of Bukhara history weaves itself effortlessly around the present-day lives of its people. Here you get a real sense of continuity. The world of the Silk Road caravans isn’t preserved in the aspic of Khiva; nor tucked into islands among the modern-day bustle of Samarkand; it is an ever-present backdrop to daily life. To walk these streets, duck through the low arches of the caravanserai and trading domes, sit for a while over green tea by the pool of Lyab-i-Huaz; this is what people of this city have done for centuries.
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The electric boat moved almost noiselessly along the Rio Nosara. The birds on the banks seemed largely unaware of our presence. The sounds of the forest were all around us. But suddenly there was a thud somewhere beneath our feet and the boat slowed, then stopped.
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In the cloud forest low-hanging clouds hover around the upper canopy before condensing onto the leaves of trees and dripping onto the plants below. Looking up you can barely see the sky; such is the denseness of the vegetation and the constant dripping of water. With less sunlight comes a slower rate of evaporation; the plants below thrive in the abundance of life-giving moisture.
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Red and green should never be seen without a colour in between. Whoever coined that old phrase clearly didn’t have Christmas in mind. Surely there are no two more seasonal colours than red and green?
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Nearly all the great buildings and monuments of Pyongyang were built to mark a significant event linked to the Great Leaders, usually a birthday; and Kim Il Sung was especially fortunate on his 70th to be honoured with three such gifts. This special event was marked with a grand library, a triumphal arch and a tower.
