beautiful monsters

travelblog

As a substitute for actually dreaming up something to write about, I’m going to post a bunch of travel photos. Why? Because I’m getting itchy feet. Because I’m plagued by travel lust. Because nobody has asked to see my travel photos for ages. Because I want a digital camera so I can take pictures of things that I see during the day, but I don’t have one, so I have to make do with scanning old photos. Because I can, and you can’t stop me (except maybe Iona).

So, here it is. Beautiful Monsters goes on the Big OE.

First stop, the isles of Japan. This photo was taken on Miyajima, near to Hiroshima (sorry, it’s a bit blurry, this is before I invested in a decent camera). I fell in love with Japan. I think I was miserable some of the time there, but the negative memories have been blurred out over time. All I remember now is the deafening sound of cicadas. Long hot evenings, the intense green of rice paddies and a full moon hanging golden over the horizon. Sweet bean cakes. Dark mountains disappearing into the mist. Choosing material for a yukata. Paper lanterns glowing after dark. A wooden temple built without nails. Festivals and delicate senko hanabe. Sitting cross-legged on tatami matting and learning the words to Pokarekare ana from an ancient school yearbook. I’ve been longing to go back ever since.

This photo was taken on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica. The land without an army. The land where the torero spares the bull’s life. Where the air is thick with ritual and religion. Where mangoes, papaya banana and coconuts grow on the plains, coffee in the mountains. Volcanoes constantly smoulder on the horizon, toucans croak in the trees and hummingbirds hover among the flowers. The streets are dirty and crumbling, beggars huddle in doorways. Elderly men call out sexist remarks to every woman who passes and young men are afraid to admit that they do not believe in God. The classrooms are bare and dingy. On the edges of the cities families huddle together in corrugated iron shacks, and the streets are ankle-deep in water during the rainy season. Children are in pain because there is no medicine, and no car to make the long trip to the doctor. Where workers are sprayed with toxic chemicals while they work in the banana plantations. Trees are cut down to grow cash crops and wild creatures are shot. And a few kilometres away, on the Pacific coast, American tourists sit in resorts, drinking cervezas and taking photos of the titi monkeys playing in a nearby tree. Costa Rica, the land I love… and hate.

A huge leap (cultural, economic and physical) to Switzerland. This photo is a detail from a stained glass window painted by Chagall. Europe felt as familiar as a well read book, a story learned by heart, that I suddenly found myself in the midst of. My memories of Switzerland are of elegant cathedrals, cafes spilling onto the cobblestone streets and window-boxes overflowing with red flowers. People having conversations in different languages mingling together. Wandering beside the lake eating waffles and gelato. Having huge misunderstandings with the woman I was in love with and crying over cups of coffee. Meeting someone I have missed for so many years and finding out she has grown up and joined a world I cannot understand or be a part of. Hardly recognising her, so relaxed, so graceful. Drinking wine in the luminous shade of leafy trees. Huddling in the boot of a car, holding onto a sofa so it doesn’t fall out, and then lugging it into a student clubroom in the basement of the WTO building.

I hated France. It was so hot and humid. People were rude, I was tired and grumpy and pre-menstrual. The whole country was overrun with Italian tourists. I had money stolen. I missed the train to Amsterdam. I got lost in the metro. I couldn’t find vegetarian food anywhere. I was miserable. Chartres was my refuge. Chartres is like going into a cave of darkness, then slowly, as your eyes adjust the colours emerge from the deep blackness. Scarlet and sapphire, emerald and gold, glowing like an Aladdin’s cave. Pools of light gathering on the stones, bright shafts piercing the dusty upper storeys of the cathedral. I spent three days in Chartres, as my parents had before me, and my grandparents before them. There have been cathedrals on the same site for at least 1200 years, probably much longer. The one that stands there today was built in the 13th century. There is a huge labyrinth inlayed in the paving of the cathedral nave, the largest and best preserved from mediaeval France. The vault is about 40 metres high, and it’s an amazing feeling to look up at the huge arches and know that they were built so long ago, to touch the smooth stone pillars and imagine how many hands have caressed them over the years. It’s a magical place.

Sverige. If I had to live anywhere other than Wellington, I would probably choose to live in Sweden. This photo is taken way down in the south, beside some sort of dwarfish Stonehenge. This is the only photo I’m posting that has someone in it – this is my Swedish brother, and I figure it’s ok to use this one because you can’t really see him at all! (I don’t feel right about pasting other people up on the web, and I don’t know if I want to stick myself up either). Sweden is a blur of golden wheat fields, bright wildflowers and hot rosehip tea. Swimming in an icy lake amongst hundreds of slender silver fishes. A moose with its child disappearing into the trees, and an old Viking fortress rising up in the middle of a national park. Kayaking through the islands of the archipelago, then sunbathing on smooth warm rocks with my Swedish brother sprawled beside me. Dragging him along to the local gay bars. A huge bridge stretching to Denmark, and giant windmills turning in the middle of the sea. Sweden is incredibly beautiful. It’s something about the light, the colour of the sky, the taste of the early morning air, it reminds me of Aotearoa.

The last photos are from Thailand. I spent a week there, visiting friends, on my way home from Europe. Because I was only there for a short time I didn’t get far from the tourist spots. I loved the area surrounding Chiang Mai, and I’d like to explore that part of the world some time. I spent ages wandering around Wat Umang because it seemed to be free of tourists, and very peaceful. There’s an underground honeycomb of meditation cells, where incense drifts through the darkness. There is a lake surrounded by trees, hundreds of butterflies, birds, insects and turtles. One day I tried to bike up to Doi Suthep… bad move. I think Doi means mountain or something?! It was about 20km, uphill the whole way, 90% humidity and temperature in the 30s… and the bike only had one gear. After an earnest attempt, with sweat pouring down my face and my heart pounding, I admitted defeat. I got a ride in a taxi-van. It was such a relief to be up in the cool mountains, in the drizzling rain. The temple is very glittery, gold and shiny red and green. I figured it would be great fun cycling back down the mountain again, but it turned out that the brakes were next to useless. I could stop in about 20 metres if I put my feet down and wore out the soles of my shoes… Then it started raining. I got a ride back down too.

The next time I travel I think I’d like to go with someone. I found it quite stressful on my own. If anything went wrong I didn’t have anyone to talk it over with. I was carrying a huge, heavy pack, and it was a hassle if I went to the toilet or something, I had to take it with me because there was no one else to mind it. I got depressed and lonely reading The Hours during a really long train trip through the night, with no one to talk to. It was tiring. Yeah, I think it would be more fun to see the world with someone. Soon. I’m restless. Any volunteers?

Posted by Fionnaigh at May 8, 2003 09:39 AM