As far as I have found, a love for India isn’t wrapped up in any one city or any one experience. Instead, it’s a thousand little things that have slowly folded into each other, into one overwhelming love for this fascinating country.
Posts from the ‘Great Photos’ Category
If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time longer than a single post, you will have no doubt noticed I’m slightly obsessed with quotes. Travel quotes, life quotes, anything I can tuck away for inspiration on a rainy day – I’m not picky.
It’s in the covered portion of the market that it hits me, what exactly I find so intoxicating about this place. Yes, the fragrance of jasmine and rose blossoms no doubt has something to do with it, but it’s this, too: These are the colors of India.
Pigeons aren’t supposed to be beautiful, I tell myself. And yet I see it everywhere I look – in the outline of their wings, in their iridescent neck feathers, in the wind brushing my face which isn’t wind at all but the result of a hundred birds moving the air at the same time.
At the end of our visit, my mind still swimming with the smiles of Vijay and Amir, Manisha and Madhu, I am left in awe of this full-circle moment – helping deliver boxes from Operation Christmas Child which I myself once packed.
No matter the title, the truth is that when I travel, my camera is never far from my side. A few weeks ago, I was tagged as part of Hostelbookers’ Seven Super Shots Challenge. The challenge is simple – choose a photo for seven categories – so here goes.
The fireworks prove tricky to photograph – especially getting certain things like exposure and focus right. That’s when I decide to turn off my camera’s auto-focus, twist the lens and blur the suckers to a point beyond recognition.
I had no idea what to expect on Vieques Island, but what awaited me were vivid hibiscus flowers. Verdant hills covered in palm and mango trees. Garlands of shell ginger blossoms, their buds white and each tip a light shade of flamingo pink.
As Aziz leads me farther through the dyers market, I feel a familiar tension coming back. During my time earlier with the blacksmiths, as interested as I was in their work, I couldn’t help asking myself: Are they doing this for me?
Some journeys feel more like a poem in their brevity, in the way they leave you with not so much a discernible storyline as a collection of images – fleeting impressions that stay visible in your mind long after you’ve left. My time on Mallorca was just that.