the powder room

I’d just shuffled forward to the red block embedded in the snow and turned the catch the approaching chair, when he scooted forward and sat next to me. Sharing a chairlift with someone else can be a bit hit and miss – turns out Keoki Flagg is a photographer on his day off, enjoy some of the 100 odd inches of snow we just had drop on us. We get chatting and I promise to visit his gallery in the village at Squaw.

The next afternoon, I duly pop in after another fantastic day riding Squaw. Wow. His photos are incredible and I wander around open-mouthed at his images and how they’re presented – bonded straight onto a high-quality perspex that gives them an incredible pop. ‘High Definition for photos’ is how he describes it. Over the course of our chat, I reveal that I enjoy a bit of photography too and he asks me the question that has prompted this blog – ‘what subject do you shoot?’.

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Having just returned from one of the largest coffee producing and one of the largest coffee consuming countries in the world, it seemed fitting to make a cup (plus I need it to deal with the subsequent jetlag!).

According to Wikipedia:

The coffee production in Ethiopia is critical to the Ethiopian economy with about 25% of the population depending directly or indirectly on coffee for its livelihood. In 2006 coffee exports accounted some $350 million, equivalent to 34% of that year’s total exports…
Ethiopia is the world’s 7th largest producer of coffee, and Africa’s top producer, with 260,000 metric tonnes in 2006

And I’ve just come back from San Francisco, where you can’t walk more than 10 metres without a coffee shop of some sort. The US consumes more than 400 million cups per day – around 4.2kg per capita per year or 1,290,720 metric tonnes per year in total.

Ethiopians (or more precisely the Oromo) argue strenuously that they were the first to discover coffee, so I thought I’d buy some beans while I was there. One of our local WaterAid staff took me to a supermarket and proudly showed me the shelves of ground coffee – wanting to be a bit more authentic, I asked him if I could get some beans. He was a bit confused, and after a while responded with “ah, yes, raw coffee” and hustled me back into the car. After driving around for a while, he abruptly stopped outside a tiny shack and shouted over at the man behind a set of rusty scales. A brief haggling exchange resulted in a 500g bag of beans for about £3. Great! Except for the teeny tiny fact that they were green, unroasted beans. Too embarrassed and guilty to reject them, I sheepishly paid and smiled gratefully wondering what the hell to do with them.

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Rocked up in san francisco a few days ago to see my mate Gav – left to my own devices for a few days, I rashly booked a camper and headed to Tahoe. Decided on Squaw Valley, checked out the forecast – 2 feet of fresh and more on the way! Totally by chance I seem to have picked possibly the place with the best snow conditions on the planet.

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Been struggling to write about my experience of the world’s largest act of faith, Kumbh Mela. So much to say that I don’t know how to start. In the meantime, here are some pictures.

An estimated 5 million people took a dip in the Ganga on Mesha Sankranti Shahi Snan

Just back from a great week at Lenzerheide in Switzerland. A picture paints a thousand words, so here’s a video – thanks for an awesome week to Jason at Snowmotions and Pete at Alpine Rides. Music is by The New Governors.

The ubiquitous rickshaw

Today Ali-bhai (-bhai is Bangla suffix meaning ‘brother’, more polite than just their name), M’s driver takes me on a trip to Old Dhaka. Just as we start off, the last two days of oppressive heat and humidity give way to a deluge from the heavens. Looking at the traffic and rising water levels on the road, I contemplate abandoning the trip, but am glad we continued – about an hour after setting off, we finally reach Old Dhaka (only a few miles away, but traffic makes it longer) and as if on cue, the rain stops. The downpour takes the heat out of the air and makes it all much more bearable. (more…)

Arrived in Dhaka at silly o’clock having changed at Hong Kong. The journey was interesting – certainly highlighted the differences between Japanese service staff and Hong Kong air stewardesses! After a bit of visa confusion at Sapporo airport, landing at Dhaka was a straightforward process – largely thanks to my ‘facilitator’ organised by M. He picked me up, whisked me thru immigration and sorted out my $50, 15 day visa, before helping me with my bags into the BHC Land Rover Defender and off into the night. I learn a teeny bit of Bangla and chat, before arriving in Gulshan – one of the nice diplomatic-areas of Dhaka. (more…)

Now that’s the sort of movie I want to make. Love it.

Stuff I shot in 2001-2002 from pierretube on Vimeo.

View from Helena's

A leisurely final day together – breakfast at the dizzying heights of Helena’s, some shopping and late lunch/dinner at Pilgrim’s feed n read. M leaves early the next day and I’m left on my own.

Thamel streets

The next day, I start with a tasty low-cholesterol breakfast at Pilgrim’s. I write and read a little, happy to have been recognised by the staff. Invited to music later. I wander Thamel and buy a bansuri, spend some time in the store playing guitar and thwacking drums. Wander off feeling blissfully happy and carefree.

Try to get an electric Safa Tempo, but get conned onto a normal tempo to Boudnath. 15 rupees later, having been squeezed into the low roof Suzuki, I spill out in front of Boudnath stupa. I pay 100 rupees for entry and get given a leaflet, before realising it’s free. It’s pretty, but no real connection, I spy a roof top cafe and seek it out.

Watchful eyes

The Saturday Cafe fills a spot and I sit, read and write, eavesdropping on conversations high about the stupa. Hours float by, soup and chiya. I wander off to find a gompa – the oldest in Boudnath.

Butter lamps

Wandering through narrow side streets, I sheepishly poke my head in and ask if it’s ok to look around. The monks speak great english, I slip my flip-flops off and slide through the curtain.

15 pairs of eyes swivel in my direction, still chanting.

I feel very out of place. Nervously namaste-ing, I creep in. A monk motions for me to sit just as a huge cacophony starts. The tantric drums pound through my body. I sit transfixed and gradually settle into the experience. I scatter rice as the monks perform full body prostrations. Then comes a point in the puja where something is poured into the monks’ hands, they sip it then wipe it on their shorn heads. A monk approaches and pours some of the bright yellow liquid into my hand. I follow suit and wonder what I’ve just consumed. Later they offer me bread (that is familiar to me as yau char kway) and some sort of hot drink – maybe involving yak butter. It’s sweet and warm, but looks like dish water. Unsure whether it’s right for me to take part, I decide to accept as an acknowledgement of our interconnectedness. Puja finishes and I’m swept into a sea of locals circumambulating the stupa. Dazzled and intrigued, I finally head back to Kathmandu.

Dusk at Boudnath

I visit Pilgrims’, intent on chilling to sitar music, but something doesn’t feel right. I reject the linen clad bearded hippies and head for Japanese food, contemplating the sudden influx of Japanese-ness into my life,

Dinner at O Fukuru No Aji is… spiritual and nourishing. I sit cross-legged, enjoying the calm, reading and writing – a happy closing memory of a great country to which we’re sure to return.

Goat on the roof of a passing bus

We probably didn’t do Lumbini justice, but we’re pleased to leave. The early morning mist and sunrise warm our hearts. We arrive early in Bhairawa and dodge bus drivers to contemplate our mode of transport. After waiting for it to arrive, we pay 750 rupees each for an A/C bus. Glorious luxury! Comfy seats, air conditioning, clean water, fantastic break stops. Overpriced, but worth it. Our bags were even in the boot!

We’re dropped rather unceremoniously on the outskirts of Kathmandu and after wandering around in the dust, pollution and noise, we find a tempo to Ratna Park for a mere 15 rupees. We find the Horizon Hotel and breathe a sigh of relief. O fukura no aji for dinner as we can’t see to find Koto.