Revisiting: A Stroll through Washington DC

Korean War Veterans Memorial, Washington DC, taken October 2010

Those stony eyes just stare back at you, never flinching much like the rest of the soldier, hunching mid-trudge. The memorial does its job. It reminds you of things you’ve never seen. Of pain you’ll never experience. Those eyes made of stone simply a cold shell shaped by a sculptor’s hand that will somehow, with no words, no sound, destroy at least a little bit of that innocence which you have the privilege to own. 

Telepathy has been and always will be real. Via such memorials as these, men and women I’ve never met have spoken to me and told me countless stories about the world and about history. They have been able to do so despite barriers of time and place and with nothing more than strokes of pens and brushes, shaping of metal, and light captured by the mechanical eye of a camera. 

In this way, walking through DC and stumbling upon memorials I hadn’t realised were around the corner or at the end of the path, I was able to absorb pieces of history, just some of the pieces of the very story of humanity. I saw, if only for a few moments, the men in the jungles, among the trees, the fears in their eyes. I felt the rapid beats of their hearts and the tremors in their limbs as they continued their way towards an uncertain destiny. 

I then had the liberty of feeling that shot to the heart, that ache that is born when you realise just how many people have sacrificed and have been sacrificed for the very world in which I have the privilege to live; those who have literally lain down and become the pavestones of the paths and roads which brought us here. 

On their backs, exists my life, lest we forget. Lest we ever forget the debt we owe. Lest we ever forget the need to bring true legacy forward.  

This is the world. In one is all. 

I remember being struck by how little I had really pondered this particular war. Men died as they always do when mankind decides to decimate one another for whatever reasons, whatever gains. Yet historically tucked (conveniently or inconveniently) between WWII and the Vietnam War, a mind so happily untouched by such large scale conflict as mine was able to simply forget. As far as I know, I lost no one in this war. But many did and many will never forget. They have no luxury like mine. 

I have learned a great deal every time I’ve had the fortune and opportunity to travel. Largely, what I’ve learned is that my life is one of great comfort and privilege. 

And, on my life, I wonder if I will ever be able to truly conjure a means by which to express gratitude or appreciation. 

☮

The closest I'll ever come to 'experimental' 'photography'...

... yes, both sets of quotation marks are necessary when you're talking about me essentially chasing tail lights in Rhode Island on a slow exposure in a moving car.

Nevertheless, it did make the drive back to Jersey from Newport that bit more enjoyable and some of these turned out a lot more fun than I expected so hey, why not post those bastards and pretty this place up a little? I re-stumbled upon them looking through the pics I took on my last trip to the US back in 2010 and found myself momentarily wondering, I was on what, now?

Of course, I secretly think I've delved into the untapped genius that is my photographic capabilities and am sure that anyone who sees this will demand I immediately contribute to a gallery exhibition on the sheer merit of all the pretty squiggles because, come on, look at those things.

La Linea!!

Yeesssssssss........

A Westie in North America

RENO-SAN DIEGO-SAN FRANCISCO-PORTLAND-SEATTLE-VANCOUVER

Well, a year out of the original hope, I finally head back to North America this September and get to knock off the western leg of that trip that will likely never be but hey, who cares, because *Honest Trailer voice* this is still awesome!

In less than a year, I'll have been able to make the rounds and finally meet all my titas, titos and pinsan after decades as the sole member of my family who hadn't yet met everyone - or anyone really, till last December. So, so pleased and excited to get to celebrate my cousin's wedding in Reno and spend time with my Tita in SD before gallivanting northwards and even getting to make the dip into Canada for the first time!

The Plan - she begins. 

A lovely moment, courtesy of YouTube and the very awesome Woltersworld

One of my favourite channels on YouTube is Woltersworld, run by Mark Wolters. A taste of his simple, but awesomely informative, brand of travel advice is below. 

I'm not much of a commenter on YouTube these days, but I genuinely enjoyed this video (as I do pretty much all of his videos, which I discovered in a bout of reminiscence upon my return from Germany) and I was also recently back from my most recent trip to the Philippines which only intensified my burgeoning obsession with travel so, in answer to Mark's question posed at the end asking viewers what they loved about travel, I answered as per the comment below... and received the loveliest reply.

Though he does actively reply to many comments, I was still genuinely touched to receive such a heartfelt reply and even more so to be told that my words were a source of support and motivation for his continued work. 

However brief, honestly such a nice moment among the flood of crazy that is the interwebs. 

Forks in the Road

I took this photo at The Cloisters, Fort Tryon Park, NYC, November 2010.

What drives me just a little nuts, is the fact that whenever life hits you with one of these, there’s always another lurking just a few steps in… no matter which path you choose.

Endless possibility is a beautiful, but definitely crazy-making, thing.

USA... USA... USA... 2015

... well, hopefully anyway. 

Reminder #1 for the New Year - Repost: Memory

- The Potomac, Washington DC, October 2010

My dad’s cousin took this and I’m still amazed at the luck of catching that strange streak in the sky. Seeing as how planes over in the US always appeared to leave trails miles long, I might assume that it was a plane. Of course, I don’t know.

Seeing this picture is strange. Funnily enough, travel, though so amazing and so intoxicating, so easily fades into the distance just like most other memories. Standing on the edge of a sunset thousands of kilometres away from home is something you feel you’ll never forget… the feel of the wind, the reflection of the fading colours in the water, just the fact that you were there… at the time, you can’t even imagine forgetting a single detail.

But of course, that’s what happens. Memory requires practice and unless I decide to spend every day dreaming of where I was, then maybe it would be easier to at least let my imagination be there again. However, life and practicality demand otherwise and so, much like most slowly distancing memories, it is gradually buried… by time, by new experience, by new memories, until what’s left is a piece of diminutive cinema which, much like a movie, may or may not tell me the truth.

I hate forgetting. It only leads to unhappiness. If you could always keep in mind just where you’ve been, what you’ve been through, how hard you’ve worked and how much you’ve learned, how could you feel anything less than accomplished? There is a whole world of improvement waiting, to be sure, but that doesn’t take away from where you’ve been and ultimately, it takes nothing at all from the person you now are.

This picture is here to help me remember.

Remember a time when I did something that I never imagined myself ever doing.

Remember that I did it, in spite of all the pain and suffering of the months prior.

Remember that the world is nothing if not an endless source of beauty and wonder.

And most importantly, remember that there is nothing stopping me from going back.