Everywhere we went we found gates. Doorways to temples, royal meeting places, sacred areas. So many gates.
More weaving at the Sukarara village. If you look carefully, you’ll see that my daughter is tied into the loom – there is a board behind her back and it is tied to the board in front of her. This way, she can hold the weaving tight as she weaves. This particular weaving will take two months to finish.
Fish all night. Fix the boat, nets, and sleep during the day. Interesting life.
I love bikes like this. Classic, although it is probably from the 1980′s. The saddlebags really round it out.
Before seeing this beauty, I had no idea that Kawasaki made a bike called a “Binter.” I’m a Honda guy, but this bike looks great. I kind of wanted to take it for a ride.
What do you think?
We were in Senggigi, Lombok, for six days. Each day, this same group of boys would walk by, heading to school on the beach. Sorry. Not school-on-the-beach. They were walking on the beach to get to school.
I love how their shoes are in hand.
I don’t have any new Canadian photos to post, but in honour of my country’s 146th birthday I have posted a photo of what I have come to think of as my home. I hope you like it.
To my Canadian friends and family…Happy Canada Day!
This is the other Lombok sunset photo I managed to take.
Oh yeah…that island one the horizon? Bali.
We took a tour of the west of Lombok and our driver took us to Ampenan. Ampenan is a town that is now part of the greater Mataram area (Mataram is the capital city of Lombok). Ampenan is also a town full of fishermen. These are their boats. Well…this is the front row of boats. There are two, or three, rows of boats behind this row.
Every night, all of the fishermen push these boats out into the water and fish, and in the morning they come back in and take their fish to market. When I think about the hundreds of boats on the beach, I cannot imagine it empty, yet every night it is.
These are my children. I would not be the man I am today without them. They have immeasurably changed my world.
They are my truest companions.
He was sitting on the edge of the bridge, watching my son and me walk along the edge of the road. I did not notice him until a loud motorcycle came by and drew my attention in his direction. I waved and smiled. He waved and smiled back. I raised my camera and he gave me this look.
I do not know if this look means it was okay to take the photo or not.
I took a walk down to Pura Batu Bolong, a Hindu temple about a fifteen minute walk from my hotel in Lombok. When I got there through the beach entrance (which I found out later made me totally rude and disrespectful to the temple), I was greeted very kindly by everyone. I approached this man to ask him for permission – “Boleh saya foto kamu?” – and he graciously says, “yes.” Then…he poses like this.
He’s very sweet, and he is a very nice guy. What I was hoping for was a candid photo, but he wanted to pose. I don’t like posed photos. There is little that is natural about being fake…actually, nothing natural, unless one wants to get into a whole “people are always fake” debate, which I am not.
I took the photo, thanked him, and then waited for him to go do something natural. Every time I raised my camera, he went in to pose mode. I just smiled and moved on.
What was awesome was that there were three of this guy’s friends who were mimicking him, in each pose he threw at me. A little extra smile between all of us.
My son had the chance to help this potter make a clay turtle. He has been taking Bahasa Indonesia lessons at school, but still can’t speak the language very well. The potter spoke no English, or at least did not let on that she knew.
The language that they spoke to one another was one of gestures, smiles, and touching. She showed Ben how to mold the clay, how to turn the wheel, and she would take his hand and move it where it needed to be. She would smile and let him try. He would smile back and try.
The most poignant lesson I have learned while living internationally has been that communication does not have to be spoken. Some of the best relationships I have here in Indonesia are the ones where we both struggle to speak, and have to depend on the kindness of the other person to get us through the situation.
I pray that I do not forget this lesson.
She’s weaving a scarf. It will take her about four weeks to weave that scarf. If you visit Lombok, visit the Sukarara village, wherein all of the women weave. They learn to weave at 10 years old, and cannot marry until they can weave all manner of weavings by hand.
Don’t worry, the men have to build a house by hand before they can marry. It sort of evens out.
A tip for all of you newly married (and maybe old-married) people out there: find out what your significant other’s favorite flower is and bring it home every once in a while. Just because.
I spent last week in Lombok with my family. There were a few moments of total relaxation and calm, and all of them were directly associated with being in the ocean. Well, the Lombok Strait in the Bali Sea, which is an extension of the Indian Ocean. I love the feeling of standing in wet sand while the waves attempt to bury me.
Those are my kids. We were walking back from a short visit to Pura Batu Bolong, a Hindu temple near our hotel in Lombok. They got ahead of my wife and me. They are incredibly great kids. When I became a parent, I had no idea how much happiness my children would bring me. The happy is immeasurable.
It hasn’t been too long since my self-declared hiatus, but I really want to post a photo.
Maybe I’ll post once a week, as a compromise. A little creativity per week is necessary, right? To keep a clear head…
This is a farm business that the Salvation Army runs near Palu, Sulawesi. It is shared by 75 farmers, who represent 75 families, and they plant, harvest, process, and benefit from the sale of the rice, corn, chocolate, and coffee that is grown on this farm. Pretty cool, and helps those who need help.
Those smiles are dangerous.
There they are. Day 1 of the service trip to Palu, Sulawesi, Indonesia, after we landed in the Palu airport. I am supervising, along with my Head of School and his wife, and the amazing Miss Erina, a group of twelve students from my school while they extend their hand to the people of Palu.
Our school has a week wherein all the students are supposed to be working in some sort of service. My students are in Palu, working in a Primary school, two childrens’ homes (not orphanages, because not all of the children are orphans – some live in the home because their parents can’t afford to keep them, but they still have parents), an “agro bisnis”, and a school of 2000 students. All of these places are run by the Salvation Army here in Palu.
I need to clarify one major point here: it is a service week, and my students are working here, but the week is really about exposing the students to a part of their world that is unfamiliar to them. In a very real sense, my students are aware that the world does not live as they do – they are well off, they attend a private international school, they have drivers and helpers – but many of them have never experienced the world that is not like theirs. So…we are offering them an opportunity to make a connection, a personal connection, with that world. Today they met the primary school children and my students were overwhelmed by these children and their love and generosity and attention and beauty and energy. As we debriefed the day, my students couldn’t help but gush about how the day went.
Tomorrow is day three, and it looks like this trip might be life-changing, and life-affirming.
The building you see behind them, by the way, is not the Palu airport. That is the future Palu airport. The current one rivals landing next to an auction house in which everyone smokes and people jockey for your luggage as soon as you have it in your hand. Good times.
A Starbucks Mocha Frap with a blueberry muffin. That’s what I ate for breakfast this morning, in the Soekarno-Hatta International Airport. It was delicious.
One curious thing, though: whenever I order a tall frap, I am served a grande. I don’t know why, but in a country with many small people, they only serve really big drinks at Starbucks.
I don’t like Photoshop effects that make a photo look unreal, unless the effect that the “photographer” is going for is something other than real. I do use it for my photos – specifically curves and levels – to change the contrast, but I try to avoid the bulk of what Photoshop offers me.
I also avoid self-portraits, or, truth be told, any photographs of me. I’d rather be behind the camera than in front of it.
Those two bits of info make this photo unique. I shot this photo of myself, then processed it by layering me on top of the background, then Gaussian blurred the background layer and switched it to black and white. Then I played with the top layer, me, a little be lowering the saturation level. Plus, it’s a photo of me.
I got my hair cut today as well, so I figured today was a good day to “shoot myself”, as it were.
One of the many anomalies in Jakarta culture – a Catholic church in a Muslim country. This is what makes my environment so interesting.
I’ve already posted a photo of this temple, Tanah Lot, but I found this photo hiding amongst others and I really like the wider angle on this shot than the other that I’ve already posted.
What do you think?
Oh, and this is my 900th post…whoa…that’s a lot of photos.
This week has been crazy. Too many things happening at once. Don’t ask. I need to spend some time meditating. Thanks for your anticipated concern.