For the keen traveller, what makes a place special? Sometimes it’s the place itself, a beautiful landscape that captures the heart. Sometimes it’s the people, making you feel comfortable and welcome. Or maybe it’s all about the activities, whether you’re into bird-watching or gallery hopping, an adrenaline-junkie or culture buff. One thing that ties together many of the places that have most lifted my heart is a sense of openness.
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Water is essential to life, of course, and to our planet. About 71 percent of the earth's surface is water-covered, and the oceans hold about 97 percent of all earth's water. We can’t drink the salty sea water, as the Ancient Mariner well knew, but we couldn’t exist without it. It regulates our climate and is home to thousands of marine species.
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A holiday in Costa Rica is all about connecting with nature. The animals, the birds, the landscapes. The Pura Vida indeed.
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Fire lives in the death of earth, air lives in the death of fire, water lives in the death of air, and earth in the death of water (Heraclitus). Some of these four elements are easier to photograph than others, as a quick trawl of my archives shows. Of water and earth I have many images. But air is much harder to capture, and fire too.
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'Try to travel, otherwise you may become racist, and you may end up believing that your skin is the only one to be right' The above is the opening verse, in translation, of the song Viaggiate by Gio Evan, poet and songwriter. A friend posted it on Facebook and for me it sums up everything that is wonderful and important about travelling.
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I cannot, of course, photograph the future. I could perhaps take photos of futuristic sights and buildings, but they would still be very much of the present. People often talk about the future in terms of a road we are travelling, don’t they? And we also often talk about choosing a path or road, making a decision to go this way or that.
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One of the many things I find difficult about photography is self-appraisal. Choosing my BEST images is often a challenge; but ask me to choose my favourites and the task becomes a little easier … but only a little!
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Early morning by Lake Atitlàn. A lone fisherman drifts past, checking his lines. Volcanoes dot the horizon. In the distance a small motorboat speeds past; empty now but likely to be full of passengers when the lake’s ferry services start up soon. The jetties too are quiet, waiting for the lakeside villages to wake up.
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The indigenous name for Victoria Falls is Mosi-oa-Tunya or The Smoke that Thunders, and it is a fitting name. The constant spray is as thick as smoke, and the roar of the water is indeed like thunder.
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One of the (many) things I have missed during the pandemic has been that little frisson of excitement I feel when arriving at the airport to take off on a trip. Excitement tinged with a touch of anxiety too – not about flying (I love flying) but about the little details of a trip. Have I remembered everything? Did we lock the back door? Are we on time?
