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hewholivesinhisname · 1 year

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Zerubabbel: father of Jesus

So, we have absolutely no way of knowing how far back the Bible actually happened. The freemasons larped the whole event for instance. There were 71 candidates running around claiming to be Jesus then and every time someone claims to be god or a god there is a bajillion copycats. There is usually SOMEONE in charge of one thing or another of course, but there it's also the case that there's always more people than you think involved. So, polytheism is basically correct although it would be more correct to say that people fighting tooth and nail all over the place to be the one true god while there are bajillions of others lying around is best.

One thing we do know from the Book of Esdras though is that Zerubabbel was the father of Jesus. Zerubabbel was a favorite of the Jewish God and he helped rebuild the 2nd Temple. We know that the witches predate the Jewish god btw because they have the rule of three. This is a prescriptive rule by the way. when they organize things, they plan things in 3. I'm not saying it always happens that way, but if you read the book of shadows you get the sense that "the horned god" and the goddess both predate Judaism and Christianity.

So, Christianity was created and Judaism was created. I don't know exactly by who. I assume that in the Canaanite pantheon there was something of a power struggle and it was El, the father of the gods who won the battle. There is some split between him and the pharaonic deities as well although I don't know what that was about.

Probably in Egypt or during the pyramid builders times, they had a holy book with six days a week and five working days and they had a bunch of slaves and they needed a new holy book and a new god to control the slaves. "We were once slaves in egypt stuff" is kind of belied by the fact that we have pyramids on the dollar bill. We are still slaves in Egypt. I am not getting paid to write this nor go to school and they do everything to drive down wages they can.

It's not clear what really happened to Jesus either. Some say that he never returned and the rabbi's claim they resurrected him and he said he was boiling in hot shit in hell. In other words, he might have been set up from the very beginning as a sacrifice. The story of Jesus' life very much parallels the Jewish rite of sacrificing 2 goats to the gods. Azazel and El.

So, in all probability the "father" that Jesus was talking about is Zerubabbel, but there's also a conflation with the Jewish god which means the guy had two masters and maybe a third because we are now introduced to the holy spirit which is extremely mysterious. Does it have something to do with wifi or 5G technology? I don't know to be honest.

The Jews were in Rome by the time of the Romans, Senators were forbidden to go to Egypt which means maybe a few went, but it's clear that the real power was still in Egypt which is the connection between Jerusalem and Rome. Since they erase history periodically they can play these tricks over and over and over again and no one learns anything. That's the only conclusion you can come to after examining the holy books.

What is a god? I don't know, but there's always lots of people who want to be gods. Probably it has something to do with controlling the money supply. People do things for money, not for gods in general and the lords hate this. They try to make sure the stores are filled with poisons to punish slaves with money. You can see it if you pay attention.

So, I do think these people are real of course, but if you look closer you really see that it wasn't created for humanity's benefit or anything. It was created to create the basic algorithm of "Obey or be tortured" that was what the romans were up to and as soon as you get Jesus showing up it becomes "obey or be tortured for eternity" for mormonism to this day they retain this penchant for torture. It never left.

So, all of this is to say that Zerubabbel is a much more important figure than most people give him credit for. The western christians erased him because they didn't want it to be a Jew who was the father of Jesus.

The reason Jesus was sent is important though which is that they wanted to get rid of all these gods and goddesses of Greece and Rome. they wanted to retain the monotheism even if they couldn't really do it with one person. Why is it so important there is only one god? Well, I don't know to be honest.

The Mormon god clearly lives in Kolob in universe 138,, this is universe 137 and maybe Zerubabbel or Jesus or Melchizidek is in charge of all the humans here.

Melchizidek is also an important figure because he clearly works with the witches to create. The witches predate the male gods and are intricately tied to well....a lot of things. (go girl power!) In particular, I think secrets and such are the kind of thing that women are really good at, especially if they enjoy cuckolding their husbands like Mary did with Zerubabbel or El....maybe both.

I can assure you the religious of course are going to get upset that these are real people who aren't totally perfect or that these stories are political techniques used by the masons to control people. they have been at it a long time. There's the America narrative, the Rome narrative, a sort of algorithm or program to try to control all of reality in the name of, well, control freaks.

I remember reading 1984 and being really disturbed and I realized that these guys at the top really are into being these dark lord types. These immortals act a lot more like Sith lords than they do Jedi. So, good luck surviving because there is a lot of predation, both by the poor and the rich out there.

Reality creation probably happens mostly at the bottom, there may be gods that can communicate with whatever predates matter of course but generally just as men cannot produce babies, lords and masters cannot produce wealth. Only the people can do that. They can build big projects of course, but then, when we have them like the pyramids they let them go empty rather than sharing them because sharing with commoners is not in their nature.

They will share their little manual for slavery with you though because it produces so many good slaves which is what they want. Front to back, that's what it reads like to me, but in addition there's stuff to increase suffering because....well I dunno they probably are into bdsm and enjoy making us suffer.

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gracelaramusings · 2 years

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Day 4: Down Acatenango and Over to Atitlan

Paz and Keshet awoke at 3:45 am to climb the summit and watch the sunrise, which failed to make a showing due to cloudy skies. Yuval and I figured we'd catch a few more hours of treasured sleep. After a breakfast of cream of wheat and hot chocolate, we started our way down.

With busted knees, a decent is often harder than the travails of a climb. Volcanic rock made it a bit easier with some sand-like trails, but the many steps and sometimes slippery rocks made it a typical not-so-easy return. Poor Yuval was introduced to the pain of bad knees on this trip, too.

The volcano continued to erupt as we left it behind, and we all were sad to see it go. I was overjoyed to have witnessed it, and was still filled with the intensity and immensity of it all.

The descent took about five hours. When we reached the I ❤️ Acatenango point, the guides gathered the group together and congratulated us all: "Everybody made it down!" An unexpected bonus, they also gave out necklaces with pendants that said "Fuego" for those who climbed the evening before to the closer viewpoint. Paz was honored and excited to accept his.

We made it to the bottom, returned our gear, jumped on the van, and proceeded back to Antigua. Ravenous, we heard about a great pizza place from the Israeli family ("La Familia", right by Jerusalem Capital of Israel Road!) and used the last of our strength to get there, collapsing around a large table where we had two of the most delicious pizzas.

Back to the hostel where our asked bags awaited, we boarded the Chabad van ("Benjy Tours") and set off for San Pedro La Laguna on Lake Atitlan.

Chabad was 50% cheaper than most shuttles, and since Israelis travel by word-of-mouth recommendations, it is a given that the van will be filled most entirely with Israelis. What isn't a given is learning that Keshet's best friend from kindergarten who moved away shortly after was on the same van-- best friends reunited after about 15 years. It's definitely more fun to pass a 3 1/2 hour ride in fun conversation with new-friends-for the-journey. Since many are headed to the same locations and read the same recommendations and walk the same single-street main streets, you are also bound to be reunited with these new friends along the way.

We reached San Pedro LL and made our way to the hostel. Though a popular spot for Israelis with the makings of a nice place (good wifi, rooftop restaurant overlooking the lake, rooms with great views) we were unfortunate enough to have landed in a mold-ridden room pretty much unfit for habitation. The Israeli manager did her best to help us out. To add to our misfortune, there was a blackout. Not having showered since before the volcano, all we wanted was a hot shower, but there was no hot water. AND our room didn't lock from the inside. AND there was blasting trance music across the street until the wee hours. In the end, we slept in that room (at no cost) that night then we switched rooms the following day to freshly painted quarters. Since we decided to extend our time in San Pedro and in any case they were fully booked, we started looking for another place to move to for our extended stay.

Crappy rooms are never fun. But as far as crappy goes, all ended well enough and the perfect location coupled with the fantastic rooftop made it right.

Were we up a volcano that very morning? It seemed like a distant dream.

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learningnewways · 2 years

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Israel - Prayers Needed!

After a day spent in transit, flying from Cairo to Amman to Tel Aviv, we finally arrived in Israel. While we were waiting for my mum’s bag, I spotted two cats wondering around the airport. So cute! Can’t say I’ve ever seen cats inside an airport...

Once we found a taxi driver to take us to our hotel, the first thing he said was, “Have you heard about the rockets?” And then began my terror and anxiety of being in Israel...

So I’ll try to explain to the best of my understanding... Gaza is a small portion of land to the South-West of Israel. Around 2 million people live there, all Arabs who identify as Palestinians. Gaza is controlled by two terrorist groups, the Hamas and Islamic Jihad. The Islamic Jihad has committed many terror attacks against Israel and often shoot rockets from Gaza to Israel. Usually Gaza starts this, however recently Israel decided to change its policy and approach, and instead of waiting for Gaza to strike and Israel to respond, they did it the other way around.

On Friday morning, the Israeli army killed a Islamic Jihad leader... To which of course Gaza retaliated and launched 100 rockets into Israel. Luckily Israel has a thing called the Iron Dome, which intercepts around 99% of rockets while they’re in the air. Israel fired back at Gaza and ended up killing civilians, which is not good. Everyone I have spoken to seems to think there will be a bit of back and forth firing of rockets over the next few days, but nothing serious will come from it and that we are safe.

Israel and Gaza have been fighting for a long time. Tensions rise every now and then, and rockets are fired between Gaza and Israel. I’d assume that people in New Zealand are probably aware of this tension. While it’s nothing’s new, it’s actually my one of the reasons I’ve been too scared to come to Israel all these years, because I’ve grown up watching the news and seeing bombings and rockets going off in Israel. As I said, it comes and goes, but all was well recently until Friday 5th August, literally the day I arrived...

It’s hard not to freak out. When I got to the hotel and another guest told me about the safe zone and warned me about the alarms and I burst into tears. This stuff freaks me out so much. Like I said, it’s one of the reasons I haven’t been to Israel yet. And I’ve got a whole week here! Luckily we’re in the Northern part of Israel for the first few days, which is further away from Gaza, but even then, Israel isn’t that big... And then on the second half of the trip we are in Jerusalem, which I could imagine would be a big target for retaliation...

Our driver got quite a few text alerts from the Government today and they’re scary to hear, kind of like the Covid phone alerts in New Zealand. The text alert was because the alarms went off in Tel Aviv today as there was rockets fired towards there. We actually drove through there today and it is where the airport is. I don’t think anything happened as the Iron Dome must have done its magic...

So with all that said, I would love some prayer! Prayer for peace and protection mainly. I get so scared and anxious, even though I know there’s nothing I can do about it. I know everyone says it’ll be fine, but I don’t know. This is some scary stuff! I am very scared! We have wifi on our bus, but I’m trying to not look at the news reports because it’s too terrifying. Everything within me just wants to cancel my trip and fly home, but I know I shouldn’t. I know that our tour guide, who has led over 75 trips to Israel, will change our itinerary if need be... But I can’t help but we really scared and anxious.

So please please please pray for me over the next week or so! I really need it!

Also, I’ll be trying to post updates each day of my time in Israel and our tour guide will also be posting summaries and photos of our day online, so feel free to check them out at https://biblicalisraeltours.com/august-2022-adventure-israel-tour/

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amethystina · 5 years

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Masterlist Trading Losers 2018

It took me way too long to get here (and I deeply apologise) but here is the masterlist from Trading Losers 2018 with all the entries and my responding trades.

Since this got pretty long, you’ll find them under the cut!

The first trade:

The Depths of Silence by donutsweeper

Length: 2 167 words

Rating/Warnings/Tags: G / Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst

Summary: Cougar decided he hated the quiet.

MY PART:

Where You Belong

Length: 25 330 words

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T / Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor injuries

Summary: Jensen is excited when he learns that they're getting a team member, even just on a trial basis. Except, when he actually meets this Sergeant Alvarez, it quickly becomes apparent that the man is, for lack of a better word, not quite there. He's wary and aloof, distancing himself from the rest of the team, and clearly carries some kind of baggage. Jensen knows he shouldn't meddle, but he can't help but feel that Alvarez shouldn't have to go through this alone. The man needs a friend.

And, come hell or high water, Jensen decides he's going to be that friend.

_____

The second trade:

A Midnight Clear by Quire

Length: 2 507 words

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T / None

Summary: Jensen doesn't seem to realise he's a problem.

That's what the problem really is.

MY PART:

Art: With You

_____

The third trade:

Mooch by imafriendlydalek

Length: 6 647 words

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T / PTSD, Anxiety Attack

Summary: Jake can't help but feel intrigued by his hat-wearing neighbor, who has been mooching off his WiFi.

MY PART:

Art for the fic: Mooch

_____

The fourth trade:

my lover's got humour he's the giggle at a funeral by buckybunnyteeth

Length: 1 122 words

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T / First Meetings, Meet-Cute, DADT Mention, Canon-Typical Violence, Pre-Slash

Summary: Sgt. Alvarez. Who is looking at him with a distinctly amused look on his face.

Competent, kind, sexy killing machine. If he’s good with kids than Jensen’s done for.

Or; Jensen meets Cougar for the first time and is weak.

MY PART:

Five Times Cougar Thought Jensen Was Bad at Flirting and One Time He Didn't

Length: 11 571 words

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T / Bad Flirting, Some Jealousy, Fluff, Pining, Happy Ending

Summary: Jensen has always been bad at flirting. Over the years, Cougar has seen him strike out time and time again, to the point where he kind of feels sorry for him. It's almost impressive how terrible Jensen is at it, but Cougar has accepted his best friends' lack of prowess as one of those things that makes Jensen who he is.

Cougar is therefore not sure what to believe when he starts noticing some conflicting evidence. Clues that suggest that, maybe, Jensen isn't as terrible at flirting as Cougar has been led to believe. Why Jensen would lie about something like that is a mystery, but it can't be denied that Jensen is definitely hiding something.

And Cougar is going to find out what.

_____

The fifth trade:

If I Touch You, Will You Listen? by wakandan_wardog

Length: 2 626 words

Rating/Warnings/Tags: G / Prequel, Supernatural Elements, Pining, Pre-Movie, Unintentional BDSM

Summary: Cougar has a bad feeling as they prepare for the Fadhil Operation, he probably should listen to it, but there's no way to sell Clay on 'the spirits think it's a bad idea and Mama always warned to listen to them', so he stays quiet. But Jensen... He'll stick close to Jensen, and maybe warn the tech to stay sharp. He probably doesn't need to put his hands on Jake to do that, but, oh well.

MY PART:

Art: Jensen and Cougar as Cupid and Psyche

_____

The sixth trade:

Your Pain is My Gain by Shi_Toyu

Length: 2 265 words

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T / Graphic Depictions of Violence, Injury, Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, Serious Injuries, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, First Kiss, Mistaken Character Death, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning

Summary: When Cougar's injured on a mission, Jensen will do whatever it takes to get him back to safety... but at what cost?

MY PART:

Art for the fic

_____

The seventh trade:

You’re Speaking My Language! by Aerica_Menai

Length: 2 265 words

Summary: Jensen was doing a great job of hiding his asexuality and his gigantic crush on Cougar - until the two started watching Merlin together and staging a ship war (discussion, really) that brings to light more than just their feelings about two characters in love...

MY PART:

Jigsaw

Length: 13 607 words

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T / Asexual Jake Jensen, Internalized Acephobia, Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, POV Multiple

Summary: Jigsaw /ˈdʒɪɡsɔː/ noun 1. a puzzle consisting of a picture printed on cardboard or wood and cut into various pieces of different shapes that have to be fitted together.

2. a complicated problem that can only be resolved by assembling various pieces of information.

3. to arrange or place in an intricate or interlocking way.

How, one piece at a time, Cougar and Jensen find their happy ending.

_____

The eight trade:

Arrow, meet knee by karnavi

Length: 7 355 words

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T / Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Fix-It, Mild Sexual Content, Dream Relationship

Summary: Jensen is still blurry on the details of how he got himself and Cougar out of New Jerusalem alive, he blames it on shock and adrenaline. The fact remains that getting their lives back after putting Max down is now just a really long period of secret committee hearings, interviews and presenting loads of evidence.

Somewhere along the process Jensen and Cougar came to a mutual agreement about their feelings for each other with almost ideal precision and no actual consultation.

Neither is complaining.

MY PART:

Siren Song

Length: 31 204 words

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T / Pirate AU, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Slavery, Catholic Guilt, Canon-Typical Violence, Injuries, Blood, Happy Ending, Religion, Religious Discussion

Summary: Carlos has always taken great pride in his uniform. He is a respected lieutenant within the Spanish Navy, liked by his men and known for his outstanding morals and efficiency. All of that changes the day he meets Jacob Jensen — a man with a bold, mischievous smile and eyes as blue as the sky.

Suddenly, Carlos's world isn't as neat and orderly as he once believed. He starts questioning things he shouldn't — starts wanting things that are forbidden — and, piece by piece, Carlos's world crumbles around him. He tries to resist, but, no matter how hard he struggles, he can't get Jensen out of his mind, or stop the changes the man has set in motion.

The question is simply who Carlos will be once he emerges on the other side.

_____

Go give them all some love! <3

#Trading Losers #Trading Losers 2018 #Masterlist #Trading Losers Masterlist #Trading Losers 2018 Masterlist #So long overdue #I'm so sorry #But here they are #FINALLY

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nataliesnews · 3 years

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Subject: FW: He walked for three days to be able to contact me in Ethiopia and to ask for help, the demonstration for Sheikh Jarra 31/12/2021

When I was in Ethiopia I was knocked over by a bull and as I had stitches, our guide took an Ethiopian man to help me. I stayed in touch and sometimes sent money of my own volition . But two years ago when the Corona hit for the first time Tesfaw wrote and asked me to send them money as they no longer had any income. But the last time when I went to the little Ethiopian shop in the market through which I have sent them money the owner told me that there is no connection with them. A few days ago I received a whatsapp from the son of the man, Tesawa, to say that he had walked for three days to

Behirdar where there was wifi. Can you imagine a man walking three days in the hope of trying to contact a woman in a country far away whose connection was only tenuous in the hope of getting some help. I immediately went to the shop and it was very complicated and involved. The owner of the shop, Salaam Biuti and his wife Yael were wonderful. The latter and her daughter sat with me for over half an hour trying to contact him. I eventually left them the money and asked them to keep trying. I could not understand what he wrote to me and Google did not help. Eventually I told him to write in Amharic and I would get someone to translate for me.

I did not have the energy to go back to the shop, bus and train, as it is bitterly cold and I also have a problem of a pain on the side of my face . I have been to the dentist and also to nose, ears and throat specialist and have been on antibiotics and nothing is helping. So I simply stopped Ethiopians in the street on two occasions and asked them to translate for me. One young man said he spoke the language because of his parents but did not know to read. It seemed that the money had arrived and there was a problem. I went to a demonstration for the court case of Sheikh Jarrah and had decided that I had to go back to the shop. Tesawa had tried to phone me several times but I could not hear him and in any case his English is practically non-existent. Actually the two Ethiopian women in the shop also did not speak such good Hebrew so that whole situation was really complicated.

I felt awful. Here I was sitting safe and warm at home, secure, plenty of food and drink and all I could do was think of these poor people. But while we were at the demonstration I received a whatsapp…hello Mom I get the money thank you very much we love you and I felt as if I had been given a million dollars. Tomorrow I hope I will have the energy to go into town as I want to take the shopkeepers something to thank them. I have to think what. He said he was going to buy food and would start on his way home to Lalibela. So at least they will have food for their Christmas.

The demonstration today at the court was about the takeover of the home of Fatma’s family in Sheikh Jarrah. The case was held behind closed doors and we arrived to find almost more police than demonstrators waiting for us and of course photographing us. Fatma who is a lady in her 70s was alone in the courtroom. Even her sons were not allowed to be with her. The member of parliament who was with us was also not allowed in because of the refusal of the settler who is trying to take over the house. So this old lady was there on her own with her lawyer in a courtroom where she does not understand the language.

📷

I was pleased to see that our “policewoman” has returned to us. I asked her how it had been in the woman’s prison and she said that they had established very good relations with the women there and she had spent part of her time trying to console a woman whose husband lives in Jerusalem. She is not allowed to live with him and was arrested and does not know when, if ever, she will be freed again. Our policewoman told me that someone had sent her the picture of me at the demo with her “nose” on and that she had been flattered to know what I was there. But it is not pleasant in such bitterly cold days demonstrating……and then I think that I come home and I am secure, knowing that no one can take this from me. I wonder what I would have felt like as a Jew in Nazi germany knowing that any day I would be thrown out of my house for some Nazi. And if I were a Palestinian who had left a good home in Israel and now there are Jews living there and I have no hope of ever getting MY home ba

📷

No decision has been arrived at but if you want to see what people look like whose house has been destroyed take a look at this…..taken in the Hebron hills a few days ago

📷📷

And think of all the illegal settler outposts which already have paved roads leading to them and electricity and water and tell me that Israel is not an apartheid state

And tomorrow we will go the demonstration at Sheikh Jarrah and I wonder how much violence there will be this time and if demonstrators will be arrested. Our policewomen will not be there as the judge did not even bother to look at the video of her arrest…….the police claimed chairs had been thrown of them…….there is no sign of them in the video….but the judge is a judge of 1939 and did not even comment that two women who are not young were brought into court shackled hands and feet

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projectadulthood · 3 years

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How to Plan a Trip as an Adult

*** For more tips on how to *adult,* subscribe to https://www.projectadulthood.com/, a weekly newsletter on growing up. Think of it as your instruction manual to adulting :)

Itching to hit the road? Whether you're thinking of taking a holiday abroad or somewhere closer to home, here are some tips that may help you plan your perfect trip.

Decide on a timeframe and budget

How much time do you have and how much money do you want to/can you spend?

These two factors will inform the rest of your decisions, so have a timeframe (days, weeks, months) and a sum (a few hundred dollars, few thousand dollars, etc.) in mind.

For example, if you only have a week off, it’s probably not worth your while flying halfway around the world.

Similarly, if your budget is quite small, you probably don’t want to spend thousands of dollars on an airplane ticket. On the other hand, if a plane ticket is expensive but the cost of living where you’re going is low and you have a lot of vacation days, a costly flight might be worth it.

Choose where you want to go

There are many ways to do this:

Look up deals or cheap flights/ferries/buses/trains for the dates you’re off. Check out Google Flights Explore or Kayak Explore for some ideas.

Google the things you like/enjoy doing (i.e., nature, adventure, snow, camping, hiking, surfing, festivals, concerts, beaches, etc.), find where you can do them, and go there.

Tick off the most famous places first, i.e., Paris, Rome, Tokyo, Dublin, Venice, Jerusalem, etc.

Choose a place on how you’re currently feeling (i.e., feeling stressed? A relaxing holiday might be nice).

For future reference:

Make a “trip jar” by writing down the names of places you want to go to and then putting them in a jar. Next time you're at a loss as to where you should go, just take a piece of paper out of the jar.

Create a “master list” of places you want to visit and add to it whenever you come across someplace cool, like a location shoot from a movie or a TV show.

Don’t forget to take into consideration things like the weather (how hot/cold it is as well as whether it's rainy/dry season), visa requirements (Wikipedia is an excellent resource for this, just Google “visa requirements for x citizens”), and safety concerns (common scams and vaccination requirements).

Even when COVID-19 is no longer a problem, you should still check out the Centers for Disease Control for information on health concerns and read government advisory boards (US/UK/Australia).

Tip: Note that some countries may require that your passport has six months validity left.

Plan your itinerary

Depending on your personality and whether you’re going on your own or with someone else, you may either want to plan every hour of every day or keep your itinerary fairly general to allow for impromptu decisions. Whichever route you take, look up things you can do at your destination (including nearby cities, towns, etc.) and have several backup options in case museums or other places you want to visit are closed (particularly now that COVID-19 is still a problem). Keep track of your itinerary on a spreadsheet with dates and destinations plus notes and ideas (like flight information, where you're staying, and the things you want to do). Tip: Take a look at wiki voyage itineraries for inspiration.

Book accommodation

Options here include:

Hotels, especially ones you may have reward points with (Business Insider has a great article on How to Get Free Hotel Stays With Credit Card Reward Points). By the way, always check out both sites like Booking.com, Agoda, and Trivago and the hotel's official website to make sure you're getting the best deal possible.

B&Bs. Never stayed at a bed and breakfast before? Here's What You're Missing Out On, according to HuffPost.

Hostels. Hostelworld is great for booking hostels.

Airbnb. Don't forget to read all the reviews. I'll never forget that one time I ended up staying at an Airbnb with no hot water, WiFi, or SOAP.

House sitting is a great option for those who want to see new places, live like a local, and take care of pets. Check out Trusted Housesitters and MindMyHouse.

Couchsurfing. Although the overall quality of couchsurfing has apparently gone down, it still exists as an option. Be ready to share stories and interact with your hosts, though.

Consider your transport options

Once you get to where you're going, how are you going to get around?

If you're not planning on having your own transport (i.e., renting a car or a scooter), look at the local transit system plus taxi costs.

Take these costs into account when booking accommodation too. For example, there is probably no point in going with a cheaper hotel/hostel in the suburbs if the sights you want to see are in the city and you're going to lose time/money getting there.

Tip: Check out Rail Europe, Omio, and Rome2Rio for local transport options.

Choose your travel companions wisely

If you’re planning on traveling with someone else, make sure your interests are compatible (i.e., you both want to chill out on the beach/go shopping/see all the sights/etc.) or that you are in agreement that you’ll split for the day and maybe reconvene for dinner.

Also, ensure you’re on a similar budget. Otherwise, it’ll get very awkward very fast.

More tips

On the hunt for good deals? Sign up for price alerts, like Kayak Price Alerts or Airfare WatchDog.

For anyone in the US, CNN travel has an article on COVID-19 travel restrictions state by state and CDC has COVID-19 Travel Recommendations by Destination. For anyone else, check out your local guides.

Planning a road trip? Check out the cool things you can do/places you can visit in the area you're in on Atlas Obscura (US/Australia/UK).

Get travel insurance. You may think that injuring yourself in a remote part of the world and ending up hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt won't happen to you, but it's not a risk worth taking.

Only pack half of what you think you'll need.

Stuck in an airport/want to save money on an airport hotel? Check out the Sleeping in Airports guide.

Always bring earplugs, even if you're staying in a fancy hotel (but especially if you're staying in a hostel).

Back up your photos often. Nothing worse than having no photos of your entire trip.

Get a pay-as-you-go/prepaid SIM card as soon as you land in a new country. The Prepaid Data SIM Card Wiki is a good resource.

Always carry toilet paper.

Bring a basic first aid kit with you. Trust me, you don't want to have to wander around a strange place at 11 pm in search of ibuprofen or a plaster.

If you're going somewhere where they speak a different language, learn a few phrases in that language. Take a look at Wiki Voyage Phrasebooks.

*** For more tips on how to *adult,* subscribe to https://www.projectadulthood.com/, a weekly newsletter on growing up. Think of it as your instruction manual to adulting :)

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apexart-journal · 6 years

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Natasha Yannacañedo in Jerusalem, Day 20

I started the day at Power Coffee Works. My internet on my phone failed me and I was super proud that I found the place all on my own. It was hilarious to me that I had been right outside of it before when I went on my tour with Dan. Everything starts to become familiar eventually. I decided to try a “frio,” which is basically ice, expresso, milk, and a little honey. However I could not taste the honey. It was quite strong; I would have preferred it with a little more milk. Lonnie was great to talk to. He is originally from New Jersey and has started hosting and organizing all these literary events in Jerusalem. Jerusalism is the name of his movement. We talked about everything from happenings to performance poetry to his dating life. Lonnie was kind enough to show me the way to buy some pants I could do yoga in. All my pants were dirty! The shopkeeper tried to cheat me out of 10 shekels but Lonnie thought he was just slow. I have enough experience traveling to know when someone is trying to cheat me. The guy had a bad vibe. But I loved that Lonnie had such an optimistic attitude about it. Lonnie then showed me a restaurant he likes in the “shuk,” which is the Mahane Yehuda Marketplace. Of course it was the place I already ate at that had the good rice! I decided to eat there again. I panicked a little because my internet was still not working after restarting my phone three times. Miraculously, I was able to find the place of the earthmaking class and picked up my piece and I also was able to find my bus stop! All on my own. On the bus, a couple asked me about their stop and I was actually able to help because it was my stop! Then another guy asked me direction advice and I was able to help him too. Twenty days later and I can actually give transportation advice. Pretty cool. Only on my bus line of course. At the bus stop I saw a mother exposing her baby to the hot sun. A woman came up to her and told her to get a hat for the baby. Very Israeli. I think it but the Jerusalem woman goes ahead and tells her what she should do.

The Hebrew Music Museum was familiar to me as I had already visited their store and used their restroom the first week I arrived. Truth be told, I visited it the day before because I happened upon it, had time to kill, and realized it would make room in my schedule the following afternoon to do laundry. It was on the same block that I bought the art for Amara’s room. And funny enough, the same block as the bad vegan place. The more I am here, the more everything feels like a circle. The tablet self-guided tour was pretty cool as you could hear the sound of every instrument and read about the history. The cartoon narration was a little annoying and cheesy but overall it was a great tour. I learned the frame drum is called “Miriam’s drum” in ancient Israeli culture because the prophetess Miriam (sister of Moses) led the culture of playing the frame drum in Biblical times. I loved the sound of the Azarbijani Kamancheh; it is considered an ancestor to the violin. I dug the sound of the Hejhouj as well-a Moroccan string instrument. I also loved the Morrocan violin-so soulful! The Ethiopian harp was gigantic as well as the Contrabass! They had a Peruvian flute but had misspelled it saying “Peruvain.” It made me laugh because I do have some Peruvian relatives that could be considered vain. The Cuban violin was crazy looking! It struck me how so many of the instruments looked like works of art.

Getting my laundry to my friend’s house on the bus was a bit of a chore. She was really into her soccer game so I took advantage of her wifi to catch up on life and get some help from the cellphone expert from Cube Art. He said he would call the company with my sim card to see what is up. I then learned from my friend that there is wifi at every bus stop. Say what?! Now that would have been extremely helpful information to have had this entire trip but especially today! I still can’t get used to the invasion of personal space here. A man reached directly in front of my face to close a window in the bus without saying anything.

My yoga class was awesome. It was supposed to be for people with disabilities but it was a pretty typical class in my opinion, just not Vinyasa style. I couldn’t do a couple things but could participate in most of the class. It was the perfect temperature and I could hear the birds chirping outside and feel a light breeze from the windows. It was my first time in a yoga class with a man wearing a kippah and his shirt said “Got wrinkles?” I felt very aligned, released, and in touch with my body at the end of class. My teacher has a daughter with serious knee issues so we discussed this at length. She even gave me a ride to the place she recommended for dinner after class. I finally had shukshuka! The was the first place I found where they served it with gluten-free bread. It was quite good but not amazing. I think it would be better spicier. I found another Anise so was able to pick up some gluten-free items.

#natasha yannacanedo #outbound to jerusalem

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lindoig1 · 6 years

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Last day in Paris - maybe forever Day 46

We slept fairly late again - I think we need it - and then did a few if our usual morning Killer Sudokus before showering and breakfasting. The Pate de Campagne really goes well with yoghurt and dried fruit (or indeed, with cardboard and chaff) and the cherries here are extra juicy and at least twice the size of the ones we get at home, so 15 or 20 of them added to all the rest makes a pretty substantial brekky.

My personal hairdresser did a great job and after a shave, I felt almost lightheaded. My hair was getting quite shaggy and this was possibly the last opportunity for a trim before the end of our cruise in two more weeks.

We blogged and sorted photos all morning, but the internet is driving us nuts here. Email is fine, but doing anything on the web, particularly on the PC as distinct from phone or iPad, is dreadful. It drops out at least once a minute which means that posting pics to my blog is impossible. I got a few days’ text posts up. They load in a few seconds so 5 or 10 tries usually gets them up, but loading and positioning photos takes up to a minute or more and the Wifi simply isn’t stable enough to get them up. As I was trying, I was getting messages that Deanne was reading my blog, but I couldn’t post any photos related to what she was reading. About 1pm, we simply gave up and headed out to Bastille for lunch. We ate a very French lunch at a cafe under the Bastille memorial and then walked through the nearby street market that was unfortunately in process of packing up. It was quite interesting and we bought a few things for our dinner, but there wasn’t much there that we wouldn’t see in any market at home, except for the Eiffel Tower souvenirs.

We walked the streets of the Bastille for a while, but the Passages we tried to find were closed so another Parisian flop for us. We did find a small supermarket and bought some wine for dinner and then headed for home. Everywhere we go, we have to change trains in the Metro and I calculate we have walked more than 20 km inside the stations in the past few days. It is often close to a kilometre up and down stairs and escalators and along hundreds of metres of passages, through multiple ticket-controlled barriers, perhaps a lift or two, to get to the connecting train - possibly no more than a few metres from where you started.

All the trains in Paris seem to be driverless and we found ourselves at the extreme front of the train on a few occasions. With the noise and speed and only a pane of glass in front of us, it reminded me a lot of the two movies, the Taking of Pelham 123.

On previous visits to Paris, it has seemed haute rigeur for all the men to look dirty, unshaven and decidedly scruffy and the women to be elegantly overdressed and beautiful, if a little plastic. Happily, the men are now much more like the rest of the clean respectable world, but the women seem much more casual, sometimes even a tad frumpy. A lot has changed in 20 years or maybe it is just my recollection of it. I have noticed more ‘freedom’ in the women, fewer bras, shorter shorts, skimpier tops, even a few topless sunbathers along the Seine. Equally, there are a lot more headscarf’s and chadors than before. There is a lot more black skin here now, some from Northern Africa, but a lot that seems to have come direct from the Derp South of the US - with the substantially greater bulk that goes with that.

There are new forms of transport here too now. Lots of bikes and motor scooters, but many people, even those of our age, get around on inline blades, skateboards, scooters (electric and pedal), segues of various sorts, motorised monocycles that seem to compete with mainstream traffic for speed - and pity help you if you don’t get out of their way!

After we got back to the hotel, I went back to Bercy Parc for another attempt to ID a couple of elusive birds and did so - mainly Great Tits and European Robins.

A couple more hours of frustration with the internet, but we eventually gave up and had dinner without getting anything else posted.

We have been pretty disappointed with Paris this time and it doesn’t offer a big incentive to come back. We had dreams of wandering the streets, oohing and aahing as we have before, but it seems to have changed a lot. It is VERY expensive now and the little shops with wonderful cheeses and meats are nowhere to be found. It has lost a lot of its charm. I have seen a few bits of graffiti saying ‘Tourism destroys cities’ so maybe there is some truth in it. Maybe our expectations were just unrealistic, but they haven’t been close to being fulfilled this time - unlike our previous visits that blew us away completely. Paris has simply removed itself from our Bucket List.

There doesn’t seem to be such a strong police presence as in the past - but we were here when the Algerian crisis was at its peak and there were at least 10 different security forces patrolling everywhere. There are plenty of cops around, but what is scary is their apparent readiness to fire at a moment’s notice. They all carry the squat little automatic rifles - Uzis I think from when we were in a Jerusalem years ago when every 17 year old slapped his Uzi down in the table next to him when he sat down near you to buy a Coke.

Off to Scotland tomorrow and hopefully, that will be wonderful.

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travelonlinetips-blog · 6 years

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New Post has been published on https://travelonlinetips.com/mothers-day-2019-how-to-have-a-good-holiday-with-your-mum/

Mother’s Day 2019: How to have a good holiday with your mum

With Mother’s Day around the corner, we celebrate our mums in all their glory by recalling our greatest experiences of travelling with them. Here’s how to have a belter of a holiday with your mother.

Learn to relax

After my dad died when I was 12, all our holidays were girly ones – just me, my mum and my sister against the world. We had a bit more money knocking around and our destinations changed with our fortunes – we went from grey stays in Northern France to the brighter climes of Cypress and Turkey. My mum could finally indulge her inner sun worshipper.

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One of my strongest memories from those holidays is going to ask her something trivial as she lay on a sun lounger, her face showing visible signs of distress as my standing form cast a shadow.

“Darling, darling, you’re in my sun!” she would cry plaintively, shooing me out of the way.

She was like an anti-vampire – being deprived of vitamin D, even for a brief moment, seemed to cause her actual physical pain.

I will always appreciate the way she taught me how to relax on a holiday. My sister and I were both more tomboy than girly as youngsters, and we loved digging channels in the sand, rockpooling and swimming just a little too far out to sea (giving mum a panic attack in the process).

But as we grew into our teens, mum also showed us the joy of just being – reclining, reading, sipping a chilled beverage. I know plenty of people who are incapable of switching off while away, who go stir crazy if not constantly seeing, doing, moving, achieving.

Learning to slow down is a beautiful gift, and for that I will always be grateful to my mum. Though it won’t stop me standing in her sun occasionally, just to wind her up…

Helen Coffey

Treat her for a change

When I was 17, the summer before I went to university, rather than going on a lads’ holiday for one big send off with my friends, I went away with my mum (I did the lads’ holiday too, but this was different).

She knew – even though I tried to tell her it wouldn’t happen – that once I went off to the world of university and moved away from the family home, it wouldn’t be the same as it was before.

We went to Rome for a weekend, just the two of us, somewhere neither of us had ever been, and had a really good time. We saw everything touristy there was to see (except for the Leaning Tower of Pisa; we didn’t realise how far away it was) – her favourite part was the Vatican.

I had worked that summer so I was able to spend some money on her for once, so we ate, drank and were extremely merry. We had a really enjoyable time, just the two of us. It was something we’d never done before, and wouldn’t do again.

We always knew we had a close relationship – she’s the first person I talk to about anything important going on in my life – but the holiday, as short as it was, brought us even closer and we’re still just the same now.

Adam Hamdani

Adam took his mum to Rome (Ethan_Doyle_White via Wikimedia Commons)

Roll with the punches

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When I was 14, my siblings had moved out, so if my mum wanted to go on holiday it was either we go together or she leave me home alone. Naturally, she chose the former, resulting in one lovely trip to Budapest followed by a slightly less lovely but still enjoyable adventure in Geneva.

I went with images of thatched houses, tiny inns (not that I would have been able to get served) and beautiful cobbled streets, but the reality proved far different.

When we arrived, it turned out the reason our hotel was so affordable was because we were staying in Geneva’s red light district. My abiding memory is of red neon lights and the sex workers soliciting on a Sunday morning, just about the only people who were working in the sleepy Swiss city.

Embarrassing as it was, we also had a nice walk along Lake Geneva and saw a red squirrel for the first time in my life. All in all, a good trip.

Ronan O’Shea

Digital detox

My mum brought me up mainly on her own, and when I became a journalist I had a lot of opportunities to travel to places she’d never have been able to dream of visiting.

When I was 22, we coincidentally both went through traumatic breakups at the same time – and I thought we should seize the opportunity to do something together.

I did a bit of rudimentary research for somewhere that would get us far enough away that we absolutely couldn’t contact anyone and that would provide enough of a culture shock to be a complete distraction. We got on the plane to Hoi An in Vietnam a few weeks later, during the lantern festival.

Travelling together was a wonderful way of engineering proper, quality mother-and-daughter time. There was no wifi, no 4G, no computers, and our phones were left switched off as we threw ourselves into Vietnamese cooking classes, museum visits, walks by the river, long chats in bars and afternoons exploring the markets.

One day we hired bikes and cycled into the countryside. We stopped to buy drinks from a vendor by the side of the road and he offered to take us to a secluded beach.

Before I could say anything, my mum was riding off into the distance on the back of his moped – something I never would have seen her do, but something she’d apparently done on every holiday throughout her twenties. Moments like that helped me reconnect with her as a person rather than just a mother and get to know her again in my adulthood.

On our last day, some of the women who worked at the hotel knocked on the door and said to us, “We heard Westerners have forgotten all about honouring their mothers and family connections, but you two have proven us wrong and we’ve been so happy to watch you on holiday together all week,” which was so heartwarming.

When the holiday ended, we both cried, despite neither of us being criers. It was an admission that it had been a really special time for us. I remember her saying to me that we might never get the chance to do that again, and even though I’m sure we will share lots of holidays in the future, they probably won’t be as transformative and as cut off from other people as that one was.

It was a really important, isolated episode in our lives and I’m grateful we did it when we had the chance.

Holly Baxter

Holly and her mum experienced the lantern festival in Hoi An (Jean-Marie Hullot)

Go multi-generational

It was rare for us to go away without my dad but at the tender age of 10 my mum decided to pack me and my little sister up and take us to a cottage in Norfolk for a week. We spent our days at the beach enjoying picnics and nights sitting outside dining al fresco.

I vividly remember our last day at the beach. We walked for what felt like a very long way along on the sand, until my sister and I set up base and proceeded to adorn ourselves with seaweed before posing for a photoshoot, directed by Mum.

Soaking up the sun – a rare and necessary thing in the North Sea – we were oblivious to the changing tide and ever nearing sea. Soon we were engulfed by water and my mum was forced to rescue us to safety, holding bags and towels far above our little heads as we waded through the water to solid ground.

More recently, my mum did her very own mother-daughter holiday. In 2012, she travelled to Israel with my then 88-year-old grandma to visit the places that she grew up. As a refugee from Nazi Germany, her family settled in what was then Palestine in 1934.

We went to visit some of places that were particularly meaningful to her – to Jaffa, where she arrived with her family on a ship, to the Dead Sea where her father had taken the family on midnight trips, to her house in Talpiot in Jerusalem, which had lost a floor and looked very small compared to how she remembered it.

My mum hadn’t been to Israel for over 25 years for political reasons, but thought it was an important journey to take with her. It allowed her to see the country through my grandmother’s eyes.

Maya Oppenheim

Listen to your mother

My mum brought us up alone and we never went on holiday much further than Wales when I was growing up (although growing up in Cornwall is like one big holiday), so as soon as I started travelling for work, I started taking her with me.

She’d travelled loads when she was younger but stopped everything when she had children, so it not only feels like the least I can do – it feels like giving her back a part of herself.

I’ve been all over Europe with her, but the trips that stand out are four days in Athens and the Peloponnese, her first time in Greece – it was winter, and neither of us will ever forget walking round the ruins at Mycenae by ourselves, and sharing ancient Corinth with a pack of wild dogs – and her first trip to Venice.

I was going to the film festival so we rented a flat for a week. I went off to the Lido every morning to work, and she went sightseeing by herself. By the end of the week, she had fallen for Italy – which was already my big love – and with Venice in particular, which at that point I wasn’t too keen on, having only done the touristy stuff.

I kept going back to Venice for work, and not really feeling it, but she never forgot her time there – so when a few years later I was asked to go there and write a guide to the city, I rented a flat for two months and suggested she come with me to show me what she saw in it.

She took me around tiny alleyways and churches that she’d been to before, and within a couple of days, I felt completely different about it. Now I love Venice so much that I can’t even fly there without weeping with joy as the plane comes in to land (always sit on the right) – it’s the place I know best, go back to most often, and write most about. And I love that she introduced me to it.

Julia Buckley

Get up early (but don’t ever camp)

There’s a running joke in my family about my hatred of camping. Spending many years holed up in a drab tent in the South of France and Tuscany gave me very strong feelings about that particular type of accommodation. (And true to form, the last time I camped was in about 2003 on my last family holiday.)

My mum insists that camping is the easiest way to relax, whereas I disagree in the strongest possible terms. This gulf between our ideal holidays narrowed a little over the years, but we still haven’t been away much just the two of us because we like to do entirely different things on holiday. (Who wants to camp in Sussex in October?)

But when I was 21 and living in Toulouse, we met in Treviso, just outside Venice, for a weekend. She’d been to both cities before, and I suspect wanted to show her imperious eldest daughter why she loved this part of Italy so much. And we really did see it: I was up at the crack of dawn every day, wandering underneath the grand shopping arcades of Treviso armed with a green Michelin guide.

On the last day, we set off for Venice by train at some ungodly hour. Stepping out of the Santa Lucia train station before almost splashing into the Grand Canal was “like opening a curtain”, she told me. She was right, even though embarrassingly, all I wanted to do was read some historical chick-lit fiction in a cafe in St Mark’s Square in the sun with a bellini – but she’d instead organised us up to the eyeballs and was insistent we saw everything during dawn to dusk in Venice. My holidays since haven’t been anywhere near as exhausting.

Cathy Adams

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anycontentposter · 5 years

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Lessons Learned After 250 Documentary Photography Assignments

Recently I hit a milestone in my photographer’s career: I’ve accomplished 250 paid assignments. It took me ten years and half a million frames to get there. I thought it’s a decent reason to reflect a little bit on what has been done and what the journey feels like.

The A-ha Moment

Just a few months ago I was on an assignment together with a seasoned fundraiser who has worked for many years with my pictures. One phrase she said became the most important insight of all my career: “Do you know that some of your images brought in up to a million dollars in donations?”

This struck me. For me, this became a justification of all my breakdowns, doubts, fears, struggles and sleepless nights after emotional shoots. When I decided to become a humanitarian photographer, I wanted my pictures to make a difference for real people, and it turns out, they do.

Ukraine, Nikolaev. Viktor is taking care of his bed-ridden spouse

After a few initial years in “pure” photojournalism at the dawn of my life in photography, I realized that no matter how striking a story published in a regular newspaper or magazine is, it serves an informing or entertaining goal but almost never becomes a call to action.

It’s the opposite with humanitarian organizations’ media: all their publications are aimed to make people want to do something about the cause. This makes a whole lot of sense for me.

What’s the Most Joyful Part?

As a documentary photographer, I don’t stage things, so I love when a scene surprises me with natural emotions, colors, lines, spots, rhymes, and rhythms. A lot of my photo shoots take place in small and dark flats of the former Soviet Union, where you don’t expect any visual surprises.

Even in that environment, daily life sometimes gains the potential to be perfectly framed, and a rectangle in front of my viewfinder obtains multiple meanings, multiple layers. When I see this happening, I get excited. My heart starts racing.

Moldova, Chishinau. A young volunteer celebrating Shabbat with an elderly client of a Jewish charity What’s the Hardest?

There’s a lot of bitterness in being a humanitarian photographer. The hardest photo shoot I’ve ever had so far was in war-torn Ukraine. I saw bombed residential buildings in Mariupol, which is my dad’s hometown.

I spoke to dozens of uprooted and desperate people. I saw a hospital near Slavyansk caught in a cross-fire with staff and patients inside. I remember taking pictures of this ruined hospital and whispering to myself: “Thank goodness I have a camera so I can concentrate on composition and exposure…”

Ruined hospital near Slavyansk, Ukraine

Walking into someone’s house, seeing terrible living conditions, and then leaving is hard. I always think: “I spent there an hour and I’m so depressed, and these people spend every day of their life there!”

Listening to the parents of disabled children is hard — to the point where I consider having healthy children a miracle. I’m scared to have more children now and I have a hard time trying to explain my fear to my wife.

A family with a disabled child from Moldova

Finding out about the passing of those whom I recently photographed is hard.

Running into the stories of social injustice, indifference, neglect is hard.

Sometimes, after a day of a shoot, I feel too lucky. Undeservedly lucky.

I always get home heartbroken. Nevertheless, I always head to each assignment inspired and excited. I know that I’m doing a meaningful job, this lets me stay on top of my breakdowns.

What Are the Pitfalls?

I think my personal pitfall is my willingness to lift too much weight: when I make stills, film video, conduct an interview and translate it in real-time, I often feel overwhelmed. I can’t afford failure at any of my tasks, so I allocate all my abilities to get everything done, and then by the evening, I reach a hotel like a walking dead.

Transnistria. Mr. Sigal, formerly a leader of a local Jewish community, now retired and blind Pieces of Advice

I have set a number of strict rules for myself years ago which up to now were never written down. A lot of them are pretty far from the business of photography itself, but following them saved me more than once as a photographer, business person, and human being:

1. Prior to the shoot, get into the mindset of making the best job you’ve ever done;

2. Dignity is the key. It’s often being said that no frame deserves a photographer’s life. For me the same goes for dignity: no frame deserves humiliating your subject. In humanitarian photography, we constantly deal with vulnerable people living through their hardest times. You don’t want to exploit them and their condition, even though you know that their tears in the frame will raise money for them.

On one of my first humanitarian photography assignments, I was asked by the local staff to not upset the clients. It was an unusual request. Turned out another photographer visited that place before me, and they intentionally made subjects cry for the sake of a “good picture”. Everyone who worked with me knows that I have a dignity rule in place and such a thing would never occur on my visit.

Moldova

Sometimes it’s appropriate to take a picture and sometimes absolutely not. How do you find out? Simply stay human, don’t turn yourself into a cynical picture-taking robot. After you leave, the subject should feel respected, taken care of, dignified, and not embarrassed, confused and upset.

Listen to your customers. Better don’t assume that you know what they are looking for when they send you on an assignment. It’s your job to make sure that you are on the same page. Getting into fine details of their requirements will help you understand the overall approach. The stakes are high in humanitarian photography: we are dealing with disaster relief, with helping people who rely heavily on humanitarian assistance; Find out everything beforehand about the people you’re going to meet; Write a list of equipment to take with you; Have basic medicines with you at all times. Running nose or a sudden onset of fever in the middle of a shoot day is the worst that can happen. It happened to me a lot, so I have a kit of strong medicines with me wherever I go. I also take a course of multivitamins before I set out to shoot in another corner of the world. Print out hard copies of all the essential information: contact details in the field, flights, hotels, local emergency numbers; Secure a local SIM card and local cash; This one is very important: every morning before leaving for a shoot, switch on every piece of equipment and make a test. I tend to do myself a favor and take a selfie as a test; Pay attention to clothes. I’m not good at dressing up fancy, but I do dress appropriately and neat. I need to feel comfortable in my clothes, however. My working day consists of car travels, fast freezing (or sweating) walks with gear on my shoulders, climbing up the stairs, working in hot and choking flats. I don’t want to sweat too much and to freeze too much, so proper dressing sometimes turns into a challenge. Look nice. My supervisor at the American Joint Jewish Distribution Committee (JDC) told me before my very first assignment: “Remember that for those whom you are filming you are the face of JDC, they don’t care whether you’re a freelancer or a staff member.” I’ve learned this and always keep it in mind. I tend to visit a hairdresser a few days before my assignment trips. Listen actively, but don’t produce any sounds. During a shoot or an interview stay in the moment, put aside all your other thoughts, even when you see your camera falling down from a desk (happened to me), even when something goes wrong with the equipment (happened, too). You don’t want to hassle with your camera in front of your subject. Have a backup camera ready, even if it’s a smartphone, and just keep rolling. Back up everything. Coming back to a hotel in the evening as walking dead, I know that there is a mandatory task awaiting me before I fall down senselessly on my bed: copy today’s files from the camera to the hard drive and then copy them to another hard drive. If I’m lucky enough to stay in a place with decent WiFi I also upload everything in a cloud. Dozens of people besides myself work hard to make these photo shoots happen, and repeating them is never an option. I keep this in mind. Don’t get lost in your deliverables. It’s all about a simple but cohesive and self-explanatory system of files and folders naming. Luckily I established this system from the very beginning, and now I easily find my pictures from ten years ago. When I import the pictures into Lightroom I also assign them with a few keywords, so whenever my clients need me to send them a selection like “Wintertime in Russia” I can provide it with ease. Labeling the best pictures in Lightroom also saves a lot of time in the long run. Lastly, an extremely important one: Be an accurate business person. That’s a whole large topic but essentially stay on top of accounting, contracts, and deadlines. Deliver more than expected, better than expected, faster than expected. I use Sprout Studio software for my business routine and exploit my natural passion and curiosity to get the pictures delivered very fast, in some cases even on the day of the shoot (photojournalistic background helps me here). Selfie in the hotel of Kramatorsk, Ukraine

Overall, regardless of all the hardships of the profession, I’m living my dream. I consciously went into the humanitarian photography field, and I’m aiming to learn more lessons that I promise to share after I’m done with my 500th assignment!

About the author: Arik Shraga is a photojournalist and documentary photographer based near Jerusalem, Israel. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author. You can find more of his work and connect with him through his website and LinkedIn. This article was also published here.

Read more about this at petapixel.com

https://bestcamaccessories.com/lessons-learned-after-250-documentary-photography-assignments/

#advice #arikshraga #documentary #inspiration #lessons #lessonslearned #lookingback #tips #blog

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hallsp · 5 years

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Jordan Diary

What follows is a somewhat lacklustre chronicle of my trip to Jordan, taking in Amman, Aqaba, Petra, and Wadi Rum:

Wednesday, 26th December, 2018

Jordan has a strange, haunting beauty, and a sense of timelessness. Dotted with the ruins of empires once great, it is the last resort of yesterday in the world of tomorrow. – King Hussein bin Talal

I’ve just been woken by a God-awful thud. “Jesus, what fresh hell is this?” I remember thinking. I had a stone-splitting headache but came to my senses quickly enough. The airport, I suddenly remembered! We must have landed at Queen Alia, in Amman. That was where I was supposed to be, after all. I just couldn’t remember how I got here. I didn’t remember the flight. I didn’t really remember boarding. How on God’s green Earth did I get to the airport?

The last thing I can properly recall was ordering a doo-doo shot in a bar on Armenia Street, after my fourth or fifth vodka-redbull. This, on top of a bottle or two of red wine and some beers earlier in the day.

Christmas Day had started out nice and quiet, just like normal: a gathering of friends, lots of cooking and eating food, some pleasant conversation over a few glasses of dinner wine. I hadn’t planned on going out. I hadn’t actually banked on the bars being open. At home, in Ireland, everything is closed for the holiday. It was all Shadi’s fault. And Maryam’s. And Jodey’s.

Now I was hopelessly hungover, possibly still drunk, and I had to navigate a new country through the colourful medium of Arabic, but it didn’t matter, I was here: the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.

It was really cold, something close to freezing, far colder than Beirut. I hadn’t anticipated this, and I’d packed in a stupour at 2 in the morning. Clothes-wise, I was woefully unprepared.

I left the airport and tried walking, but it turned out to be a seven hour walk from the airport to Amman city centre. I managed to gauge this almost immediately and turned back in search of shelter. I eventually found a taxi into the city. It cost 20 JD, but I paid him 30 out of sheer gratitude. I had no sense of the conversion rate. I would later discover that a 10 JD tip is outrageous, something like $15. It was like some terrible inversion of Wilde: I knew the value of everything, but the price of nothing.

The hostel, Nomads, on Jabal Amman, is amazing. The staff are friendly, the rooms are nice, the location is central, and the WiFi is excellent. It’s got a good vibe, too, lots of wall paintings and the like:

I joined a free walking tour — recommended price: 5 JD — almost straight away, which left a lot to be desired in the end. The guy walked us around a bunch of shops and souks, for which I’m sure he received some kind of commission. It did give me a sense of the city, though, so I found my bearings fairly easily afterward.

I decided to go for some food. The falafel served at Al-Quds is supposed to be the best, an old Palestinian place named for the city of Jerusalem, and it certainly was. I still have dreams about that falafel sandwich in a crispy sesame bun. It might be the nicest falafel I’ve ever had. I then went for the equally famous kanafeh dessert at Habibah, also a solid recommendation.

Since I hadn’t slept for very long last night, I decided to call it quits early, around about 7ish, but not before buying a wrist watch I had seen earlier in the day — one with Arabic numerals. I’ve been looking for one of these for months.

Thursday, 27th December, 2018

I was up early, about 7 am, to beat the crowds and the impending storm, so off I went to the citadel high above the city. Jabal al-Qala’a it’s called. Somehow, I managed to follow a road up towards the citadel from the wrong side, but I was able to clamber up some rocks and over the wall, accidentally bypassing the ticket office. I had a Jordan Pass, so it didn’t really matter.

Occupied since the early Bronze Age, the citadel has been re-fortified countless times, most recently by the Romans, the Byzantines, and the Umayyads.

Two pillars remain from the Temple of Hercules, built by wise old Emperor Marcus Aurelius in the 2nd century. Also remaining is the entrance hall of the Umayyad Palace, a once-spectacular complex of royal buildings from the 8th century.

Unfortunately, the storm arrived sooner than expected and it started pouring so I went for shelter. When the weather improved a bit, I made my way down to the Roman theatre, a short distance away.

Constructed by the Romans in the 2nd century under Antonius Pius, the theatre can hold up to 6,000 people, and is an iconic building in Amman. Amazingly, it’s still used for concerts and performances.

On my way out of the theatre, some local kids started joking with me in Arabic. I hadn’t a clue what they were saying but they were stunned when I replied in kind, also in Arabic. This was when I met Qusai, a Palestinian-Jordanian who saw the whole thing and came over to talk. He was eager to explain that things were bleak for Palestinians in Jordan. The majority of the 2 million Palestinians in Jordan — including Qusai — have citizenship, but this doesn’t mean much when it comes to prospects for employment. There’s rampant discrimination. This is true for Qusai also, in spite of his qualification in accounting. He’s been attending the recent protests outside the King Hussein Mosque.

At this stage, I desperately needed some food, so I headed to Hashami restaurant, famous in Amman for their hummus and falafel. Pictures of the royal family and other dignitaries adorn the walls, but it’s not a well-to-do place. It’s simple, wholesome food.

It started raining heavily at about midday, and never stopped. I spent the remainder of the day at the Jordan Museum (a steal at 5 JD, no Jordan Pass accepted) to explore the depth of history in this country and, frankly, to get out of the rain.

The museum is impressive. The whole top floor is given over to an expensive exhibition of inventions and discoveries from the Islamic Golden Age, called 1001 Inventions, and featuring a video with Ben Kingsley as the polymath Ismail al-Jazari. The most interesting part, for me at least, was the exhibit on al-Jahiz, who is credited in his Book of Animals with evolutionary ideas which pre-date Darwin. Evolution, as a concept, is generally opposed in the Islamic world, so I was happy to see some accommodation being made on official levels.

I had dinner at Shahrazad, named for the storyteller in One Thousand and One Nights, and recommended by the guide yesterday, where I tried ara’yes, meaning bride, a kind of pita bread filled with minced lamb, onions, parsley, and allspice. It’s then brushed with olive oil, and grilled over hot charcoals. It was tasty, but very filling!

Friday, 28th December, 2018

The desert route to Akaba was so long and so difficult that we could take neither guns nor machine-guns, nor stores, nor regular soldiers. – T. E. Lawrence

Amman is smothered in cloud, raining heavily. The roads have become rivers, torrents of water flowing to God-knows-where.

I decided to catch the 7 am JETT bus from Amman to Aqaba, with my roommate Ryan. It’s a four hour drive, and costs 8.60 JD. They showed an Egyptian movie, which I could follow in parts, and played some Arabic music, featuring my old favourites: Mohamed Mounir and Fairouz.

Jordan is serviced by a highway which runs north-south, known as the Desert Highway, al-Thari2 as-Sahara. The cloud began lifting the further we traveled south, green farmland soon gave way to desert, and flat land became mountainous. You enter the world of the Bedouin.

It’s truly amazing what happens to the weather as you descend into Aqaba, though. As we moved south and descended towards the Red Sea, the temperature rose dramatically, from 8 to 18 degrees. It has its own little micro-climate here.

I like Aqaba. It’s small, but full of history. The British and the Arabs, along with Lawrence of Arabia, famously took Aqaba from the Ottomans in July, 1917. Instead of coming by the sea, as was expected, the Arabs came across the open desert and won a decisive battle.

It’s a frontier city. It’s from here that you can see four countries: Jordan, of course, Israel, Saudi Arabia, and Egypt:

Ryan, my English roommate, wanted to buy some souvenirs so we shopped around for a little while. He eventually bought a few things at one place owned and operated by Mohammad, an Egyptian guy, who gave us a good price. I love Egyptians, and there are loads of them in Aqaba; we bonded over our shared love for Mohamed Mounir.

Ryan and I decided to go for a pint — there’s a Jordanian beer called Petra I wanted to sample — in the Rover’s Return, an English pub near the city centre. It’s beside an Irish pub, but this was closed. We had to cross into a tourist-only area, and show our passports. While passing, I said jokingly: Ana ajnaby. I’m a foreigner. Surprised at my Arabic, the bowab, or doorman, apologised for not speaking English and asked me to go over to the duty-free shop and buy cigarettes for him. I wouldn’t have to pay tax, you see. I agreed. I glided in and asked for his brand. The uniformed customs official just laughed and called over his two colleagues. This wasn’t the first time he’d had this specific request, clearly. He asked for my passport and asked who it was for. “Me,” I said. More laughs. This obviously wasn’t going to work. One of the other men asked if it was for the bowab outside. “Tab3an,” I replied, caving under the pressure of the interrogation, “of course.” There were laughs all around this time. The official denied my request, but after much pleading in my best (or worst) Arabic, he finally agreed and stamped my passport.

The beer was really nice, and the weather was gorgeous, so it was nice to sit outside. Just as we were sipping our drinks, an air show started in the skies over Aqaba, right over the border with Israel. Four planes performed synchronized displays, and then each would perform its own crazy manoeuvre.

I had a good look around the old ruins of Ayla, the ancient city known to the Hebrews as Elath, and to the Romans as Aela, before boarding the bus back to Amman.

Saturday, 29th December, 2018

The hues of youth upon a brow of woe, which Man deemed old two thousand years ago, match me such marvel save in Eastern clime, a rose-red city half as old as time. – John William Burgon

I woke early again, this time to get the JETT bus to Petra at 6.30 am, which cost me 11 JD. There were loads of people vying for a seat so I was glad I had reserved the night before, though a second bus was quick to arrive.

We arrived at Petra about 11.30 am, after some delays. I left my backpack in one of the souvenir shops in the car park, and went straight inside. I had come to Jordan especially to see Petra, one of the modern Seven Wonders of the World, so I wasn’t going to waste any time.

Petra was the capital city of Nabataea, one of the so-called “incense-states,” wealthy kingdoms which prospered in the Red Sea region, largely because of trade between Arabia and the Mediterranean. In 100 BC, when the kingdom was at its height, about 30,000 people lived in Petra. The city was eventually captured by the Romans in AD 106.

I trekked all the way down to the canyon, and began the long walk through the narrow gorge known in Arabic as: al-Siq, the Shaft. It’s a gorgeous sandstone chasm with huge rock-faces either side of the passageway.

After some time, you reach the famous Treasury, al-Khazneh in Arabic, the most beautiful and elaborate building in all of Petra. Its name derives from folktales about treasure hidden at the site. Constructed by the Nabataeans as a royal mausoleum in the first century of the common era, it’s an astonishing achievement. It’s simply breathtaking to behold.

I walked the entire complex, following the route from the entrance all the way to the Monastery, past the Treasury, the Royal Tombs, the Theatre, and the Colonnaded Street. It takes about three hours, all in all, walking at a leisurely pace. The path up to the Monastery, the final hour of the walk, is all up hill and very steep, so it takes some doing. The view at the end is worth it, though:

The Monastery, larger but less ornate than the Treasury, also gets its name from an Arabic nickname, al-Deir. In reality, it was probably a temple dedicated to the Nabataean King Obodas I.

The poet John William Burgon referred to Petra as: “a rose-red city half as old as time.” It does feel timeless, but it’s the colour of the stone city which really grabs you. There are so many shades of red: rose, crimson, garnet, but also purples. The sun works magic with the rock in this place.

Eventually, I made it up to my hostel, Rafiki, just up the hill in the nearby town of Wadi Musa, getting there for about 5 pm. This place was a bit of a dive, I thought, but soon realised how much of a gem it really was. The staff were a bunch of legends, for a start.

Later that evening, I overheard a guy speaking with an Eastern European accent but with Irish overtones, so I quizzed him. It turned out that he was Slovakian but he’s been living in Ireland for fifteen years, in Dalkey no less, just down the road from me. We drink in the same bars. “That’s funny, what a small world,” I thought.

A little while later, I bumped into a Japanese girl, Kurumi, who I had seen on the bus and at Petra that morning. We got chatting. “I’m living in Dublin,” she said at one point. “Sorry,” I said in shock, “is that somewhere near Tokyo?” “No,” she laughed, “I’m learning English in Ireland.” Well, jumping Jesus. It certainly is a small world, and getting smaller.

I opted to stay at the hostel for dinner, and I was glad I did. I’ve never seen such a good spread: a chicken dish with rice, alongside vegetable curry, bread, hummus, falafel, salads, and pasta, with dessert to follow. It was a feast for 5 JD. I went to bed early again, as Kurumi and I have agreed to go to Petra first thing in the morning, as soon as it opens at 6 am.

Sunday, 30th December, 2018

Wow! Getting to Petra early has really paid off. There’s almost nobody here. It’s a much more imposing site in the quiet of the morning without all the hustle and bustle of tourists coming and going. It’s really peaceful, more majestic even.

Today, I have one goal: walking the trail known in Arabic as al-Kubtha. It’s a long walk up through the mountains, but it promises breathtaking views of the Treasury. It took us about an hour, with Kurumi and I arriving around 7 am. The early wake-up and the steep climb together turned out to be a very small price to pay:

We had the view over the Treasury almost to ourselves, though people started arriving very soon afterward. What a view, though!

We spent about an hour overlooking everything and watching the world go by, before descending down the mountain for lunch at a Bedouin restaurant near to the entrance. I had chicken galayet, a local favourite, which was chicken with tomato and onion, stewed until soft, and seasoned with garlic, olive oil, and salt. I noticed some David Roberts lithographs on the walls. You see these all over the Levant.

Finally, we went back to Petra for one last look around. I opted for some horsepower in making the journey from the site entrance to the canyon, which helped after all the walking. We walked up to take a look at an old 6th century Byzantine church near the Royal Tombs, almost opposite the Theatre.

I bought a couple of fake antique coins from an old Bedouin man who pointed at one set of coins and announced: “Made in Taiwan.” He had a good sense of humour, and I wanted cheap fakes rather than real coins, which were available but came at a price.

It was about 4 pm when we decided to say goodbye to Petra. I thought that was it, until we got back to the hostel. I had a shower and opted for dinner in the hostel again, which was even better than yesterday. After dinner, there was a big commotion. Emil, the Slovakian guy, had met an Italian girl named Rosa, who had it on good authority that Petra By Night, which is exactly what you think it is, was running tonight. I had read somewhere that it ran only on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and had resigned myself to missing it. However, the New Year had altered the schedule.

Suddenly, a guy came through the door with tickets (17 JD), and we were all immediately climbing into a taxi. We had to rush so not to miss it, but we arrived just in time, and got decent seats. It was cold, and dark, but the whole path up to the Treasury was lined with candles. It was really beautiful. We were given Arabic tea, which is to say sugary tea, on arrival and then it began. There was music, beautiful, haunting Arabic music, and then some storytelling, and then — it was over! Just as soon as it started, or so it seemed, it was finished. It was worth it, though, to see the place one last time and in the stillness of the night.

When we returned to the hostel, I told the others of my plan to visit Wadi Rum the next day, and to spend New Year’s Eve in the desert with the Bedouin. I sent a flurry of emails to my contact and arranged for all of us to go together: Myself, Kurumi, Emil, and Rosa. It would be another early night.

Monday, 31st December, 2018

Fly to the desert, fly with me, Our Arab’s tents are rude for thee; But oh! the choice what heart can doubt, Of tents with love or thrones without? Our rocks are rough, but smiling there The acacia waves her yellow hair, Lonely and sweet nor loved the less For flowering in a wilderness – Thomas Moore

We got the 6.15 minibus — all four of us — from Petra to Wadi Rum for 8 JD each, and it collected us from the hostel, so that made things much easier.

We arrived about 8.30, and found Salem, our Bedouin guide. We threw all of our luggage into a 4X4 and started our tour of Wadi Rum. This place is stunning:

It was used to film much of Lawrence of Arabia, and, unsurprisingly, it’s often used as a stand-in for the surface of Mars, most recently in the movie The Martian, with Matt Damon.

We got to see lots of different locations, including the Seven Pillars, so-named after Lawrence of Arabia’s book of the same name, and Lawrence’s Spring, which is still used to water the camels. A type of wild sage grows around the water, which gives a lovely smell.

One of the most glorious locations was the Khaz’ali Canyon, which contained ancient inscriptions, some from pre-history, some in Nabataean, and still others in old Arabic. There was a fig tree at the entrance to the canyon which caught the light so splendidly:

We made it back to our camp to watch the last sunset of 2018 from high up on a mountain. When we climbed down, and made it back to camp, tea was served around a fire in the main tent. Salem’s uncle played the oud. Now, in the darkness, around the camp fire, I really got a sense for what it must be like to live with the elements here. It was an amazing experience.

The family cooked a huge amount of food, chicken and vegetables, in a pit in the sand, not unlike a fualacht fiadh at home in Ireland, though here the food is predominantly steamed. They also served various salads, along with staple dishes like hummus, and their speciality, moutabal.

We all went star-gazing for the last couple of hours. I’ve never seen so many stars in my life, the sky was ablaze with distant suns. You could clearly see the band of the Milky Way. It was astounding. What stories must have been told of these wandering lights! We returned to camp for the countdown, and afterwards, in the far-flung distance, we could see fireworks exploding in the dark.

Tuesday, 1st January, 2019

We returned to Wadi Rum village for about 8.30 am, to go our separate ways. My flight home to Beirut was at 3 pm, so I had to get a bit of a move on. There are no buses to Amman from Wadi Rum, so my only options were a bus to Petra, then another bus, or a taxi to Aqaba, and a bus from there, but both options left me with little time. I had no real option but to get a taxi straight to the airport. Luckily, with some cajoling, Salem arranged for a taxi all the way from Wadi Rum to Queen Alia, with a detour to see the ancient mosaics in Madaba, for the low price of 100 JD. It was a four hour drive all the way north. It would be tight.

My driver turned out to be the greatest human being on Earth. Ali, the man, the legend. We spoke only Arabic for the entire trip, which occasionally (often, actually) strained my meagre abilities almost to breaking point, but I loved him. He was enthusiastic about everything. First, he tried to tell me all about Islam, but gave up that venture pretty quickly. Next, we moved on to music. He introduced me to Mehad Hamad from the UAE, Mashael from Saudi Arabia, Shaima Al Shayeb, and Sabah. I had the good fortune of introducing him to — who else? — Mohamed Mounir. We sang the whole way from Wadi Rum to Queen Alia International.

We parted as true friends, with promises to see each other again.

#jordan #petra #wadi rum

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pridge · 6 years

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The Capital of Cambodia - and the Genocide!!

Right where did I leave off…..am not actually sure as I sit writing this without wifi to check! So this may remain in if I don’t decide to edit it.

Firstly, for my own recollection, I am not sure if I mentioned the very cool cocktail bar I discovered way back in Saigon. Up some dark steps directly opposite my Airbnb, no signs at all. And then just a dark door you basically had to knock to enter. All based on US speakeasy’s in probation. Very cool. Although when I say discovered….that isn’t entirely true. As its on google and tripadvisor! But Columbus discovered America, and a French guy “discovered “ Angor Wat. So I’m claiming this!! There was also a really nice craft beer place just round the corner with a 3rd floor roof bar – so a height I can cope with.

As a segway back to current timeline. I now have rest of trip booked up and mapped out. Am due back in Saigon on Friday 13th, and then start my organised tour up the coast of Vietnam. I have subsequently left Siem Reap and currently in Cambodian capital of Phonm Pen. I had a pretty relaxing time in Siem Reap. Although nothing too exciting to report. Had a few beers and meals with a cool US defence lawyer called Dalin, who was also travelling alone. A lot of politics laden conversations, as a shared interest, as well as reflecting on travelling, culture and life. We had very similar views on the world, as he comes from west coast he is lucky to be in the majority there of being as bemused by Trump as we the rest of us. I also, hopefully, got over the worst of my final MBA module, largely sat in front of/under fans drinking iced coffee in various spots. Got a couple of daytimes set aside here the next couple of days to more or less finish my final assignment. So fingers crossed I have got the hang of this corporate finance stuff now!!

Had a very easy coach journey down to Phonm Pen. Chose to go with the quicker air-conditioned option, rather than mixing with locals and most backpackers on the $4 cheaper option. Despite the hotel pick-up not turning up until after we were due to leave, that seems fine over here, and there was unseasonal rains which appeared to cause chaos on the local roads! Only minor annoyance on the coach was the woman in the seat behind me seemed to not understand the concept of earphones – and had her music playing out of some form of mini-stereo. Luckily I just hid under my sound reducing earphones – but am sure probably annoyed hell out of a lot of rest of passengers.

Having then easily found my hotel in Phonm Pen, and having to turn down dozens of requests for “tuk tuk” from the local drivers – who all seemed totally bemused I’d want to walk 1km or less to my hotel!! Perfectly ok hotel in central area – I think. Right by night market which I may go and explore one evening. Headed out having refreshed myself to Larry’s Bar & Grill. Essentially seems to be an expat establishment, run and owned by Larry. Who was actually sat out front playing chess with a friend whilst I was there it turned out. Tough life!! Anyone who’s read my Facebook will also know that at this point I allowed myself to enter into a conversation with a slightly unhinged Swedish guy. My instincts were saying not to – but also I am aware that I shouldn’t just exist in my own bubble of the world.

As it turns out he was an alcoholic, who recently gave up weed. He was also essentially on a sex tour of asia, which he appears to do on a regular basis. And it turns out he is rather right-wing compared to me. Blames immigrants for his company folding, when in fact he basically admitted that GPS meant his taxi firm folded as competition became too hot. He was then also a BMW car salesman – but lost his job after some form of argument with his boss (who I checked – was not an immigrant). He was predicting the collapse of the Swedish economy due to the number of free-loading foreigners that were breaking their social security system. I know far too little about Sweden to possibly comment on the factual accuracy of this. Anyway, I listened, I felt disgusted at his views. But interesting to hear a different view point. I also had what I think he thought was great live advice from him, where he was telling me about this crazy prostitute he’d seen a few times in Thailand. He’d broken one of his own rules, which essentially is not to spend more than one time with a prostitute. But she then started acting crazy….his words….because she had fallen in love with him….which led to his great advice of essentially “don’t allow yourself to fall in love with a prostitute, especially a Thai one”. This was seen as good advice by him as it meant he could just walk away from this apparently crazy Thai prostitute. Just a different world out there – and one I frankly can’t stand, or understand, and don’t like.

I then had a few cold beers at the extortionate price of £1 a pint vs 70p in Siem Reap, and a bite to eat. And found myself talking to a very nice Australian/New Zealand couple. Both on their last night in Cambodia before heading back to Sydney. We had some long conversations, and we were all equally bemused by the whole “ladies” bars in Phonm Pen, which I’d heard from others about, and there are similar in Saigon I think. Where basically as a western guy you pay slightly more than normal for your beer, but you end up having a number of local girls who work there hanging on your every word. They are not officially prostitutes it seems….but can be….all very confusing and weird. I think I would rather sit on my own with my book than to have women pretend to be interested in me because that’s there job!!

Anyway, enough about prostitutes. As a complete and utter opposite. Visited the S-21 museum and the Killing Fields today. Bit hard to know where to start really. Having visited German concentration camps in Poland, the holocaust museum in Jerusalem and more recently the very hard hitting Vietnam War museum in Saigon, I was wondering how this would impact me. Both were exceptionally well done – and had really great audio tours.

The S-21 prison, was essentially an old school that was converted into a prison for interrogation. And on this they did not hold back. I’d be doing it something of a disservice if I didn’t at least try and describe it a bit – as best I can. First off, well it is a school. And they converted into into a place of torture and horror.

Actually – step back briefly. So a few bits of context for Cambodia. In a nutshell they suffered due to the Vietnam War and Cold War going on at the time – with essentially first a French and then a US back government – which always ends well. The last of these was put in power in 1970 as the Vietnam war was just going from bad to worse for the USA. At the same time there were the Khmer Rouge building up their power in the mountain and jungle villages, essentially a vaguely communist, but largely nationalist, party. Led by the secretive Pol Pot, it seems very few of his people knew his real intentions. Essentially he wanted to return Cambodia to how it was in the 10th-12th century. And by that I don’t mean being a strong empire again, although he did want that, but he wanted to do that by returning to a rural agrarian society. Essentially he wanted to dismantle the current country and rebuild it in a rose tinted image of its past.

Having come to power in 1975 – with another glorious American airlift to empty their embassy. The Khmer Rouge then proceeded to order the evacuation of all the cities and relocation of people to the countryside. Keeping in mind, for example, that Phonm Pen had approx. 3m people there at the time. Within weeks, the estimated population was 50,000 loyal Khmer Rouge. Alongside this, they decided the only way to achieve Pol Pot’s vision was to eradicate intellectuals, artists, teachers – in fact wearing glasses meant you probably just disappeared.

This eventually led to an estimated 1 in 4 people being killed either directly or indirectly (disease, starvation etc caused by the forced relocations of people to the countryside). Let that sink in. 1 in 4. That was 3m people in 4 years. 3m is a lot – although sadly other genocides have bigger numbers sadly. The figure of 1 in 4. If you still have your parents, and a sibling. That means one of you would have been dead by the end of this. Imagine losing 1 in 4 of all the people you knew, or of your friends. And often not knowing what happened to them, or if you knew they had died, where their bodies were. 25% of one countries whole population – means no-one was unaffected. No-one. It is a deep scar that it is hard to imagine how to ever heal, or even what damage it has done to the collective as well as individual psyche.

S-21. Where people were interrogated under the most terrible torture until they admitted to essentially anything. They were water-boarded (the gentle sound US name), they were locked in tanks full of biting insects, they were beaten bloody, they had fingers and toes cut off. All whilst spending most of their days either locked in unbearably tiny and hot cells, or perhaps worse, in large rooms chained to multiple other prisoners. They were not meant to be killed….as this was just meant to extract confessions. And in the end everyone confessed, which would lead to more arrests and more torture. When I say they confessed, I mean they signed that what they were being accused of was true and to give names of others. People were tortured into saying they were CIA and KGB agents (often at the same time), and often without knowing what the hell the CIA or KGB even were. Several of the blocks had barbed wire put up over the front of the building to stop people making attempts at suicide if they ever managed to get the brief chance to do so. And who could blame them for trying.

There were 12 known survivors of this place. 12, from the 100’s and 1000’s that passed through the doors. They escaped in 1979 when the Vietnamese army invaded Cambodia and overthrew Pol Pot (more on that in a bit).

The whole of S-21 was harrowing. And to see the pictures of the teenagers who basically ran the place – and to wonder how do people end up being able to justify torturing other human beings. And for what end? Did they really believe that they were getting accurate confessions. The whole thing was just a nightmare crazy.

Following that we leapt back on our bus to head to the Killing Fields. Of which there are more than 300 in Cambodia. These were the sites of mass execution that would come on the back of the torture – or just because you were an intellectual or a teacher, or in the wrong place at the wrong time. This particular one outside Phnom Pen had somewhere around 20,000 victims. And in keeping with Pol Pots vision this was not industrial genocide. This was done with crowbars, farm equipment, machetes or anything they had to hand. If Hitler’s holocaust was the disgusting pinnacle of organised industrial genocide, then this was, well I am not sure what it was. I think the only way to sum it up was one particular tree that they have evidence that shows was used to kill babies. And I literally mean by smashing their skulls against it before throwing them in a big pit. Just writing that makes me want to cry.

Once again though so many people say they were just following orders, or were scared for themselves or their own families. And who wouldn’t be under one of the most brutal regimes ever seen. The challenge for me though is how does a society allow itself to get to a stage where it even allows orders like this to become normal. How does it become normal to work as a concentration camp guard, or to work at a Stalinist gulag, or force millions of Armenians to match and starve to death in winter, or enforce the Cultural Revolution in China….and and and. The worst and though is what would any of us do differently in the circumstances. Undoubtedly there were monsters who could barely be classed as human giving the orders, or near the top, and even in the rank and file doing the doing. But that can’t explain the scale of any of this.

Similar to Nazi Germany, the Khmer Rouge deliberately dehumanized those it saw as a threat and wanted killed. For me this dehumanisation is what scares me the most. It is why I abhor racism, sexism, bigots and to a certain extent populism. As soon as you start seeing one human as less a human than you that can be a really slippy slope towards many many worse things. I believe people are fundamentally good – and often it is circumstances or context that leads people to do bad or evil things. But how do societies stop such atrocities and genocides in the future. I just don’t know. Rwanda was so recent. And the UK, USA, Russia, China, Australia and the UN were still recognising the Khmer Rouge as the “rightful government” of Cambodia as recently as 1991. 12 years after they’d actually been deposed by Vietnamese troops – and there is surely no way these atrocities were unknown. So the leaders of the world put politics and the Cold War above their own ethics and morals. And that is also scary. Again though, the context is hard, as I was too young to really remember the Cold War and the impact that had.

Overall, as you can probably tell it was a very moving and thought provoking day. Upsetting is an understatement.

To help process all that had a lovely long walk along the river here. They have a beautiful promenade that stretches quite some way. I waited for it a cool down a bit first, but was nice to stretch my legs for first time in ages. Also, it took me all the way down into what can only be described as a real locals area – but in the sense that there were lots of bars and restaurants in some sort of retail park – by a nightmarket – but all just locals there. Almost as if that is there way to avoid us tourists!

There is still obvious French influence in Phonm Pen – not just the street names, but a lot of the food and restaurants still have a very French flavour to them. So to finish on a more positive note – this place is a buzzing city, and hasn’t allowed itself to forget its past – both good and bad. But has endured and carried on. Maybe that is the essence of the human condition.

Am now just having a quiet beer and considering what to eat. Think I will retreat into a book as well as far too much thinking done today!!

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andrewmilton · 7 years

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Cyprus

What's the Greek word for 'xenophobia', because I think that's what Amigo encountered from the grumpy lady at the immigration desk at Larnaca airport? She certainly put the "cross" into "cross-examination", especially over the fact that - against my advice - he didn't have an onward flight booked from Cyprus. She used her discretion to give him only three weeks in Cyprus, rather than the usual 90 days. Treatment to which I can look forward if the UK leaves the EU.

We got the bus into the centre of Larnaca and got lost following the directions to the apartment and Amigo's habit of asking passers-by and being sent from pillar to post. Apart from that, I quite enjoyed our few days in Larnaca. Nice to walk along the beaches and the yacht marina. And a good day trip to Nicosia, which is the only divided capital city now that Jerusalem and Berlin have left the league. The Cyprus Museum was full of wonderful archaeology. Amigo insisted on going to the border crossing, where I resisted the temptation to leave him behind and disappear into the North.

After that, a few days in Paphos, where the goddess Aphrodite emerged from the foaming sea, when the Titan Cronus slew his father Uranus and threw his genitals into the sea. Nowadays, though, the beaches have won EU cleanliness awards. Paphos has a rather more interesting sea-front than Larnaca and some spectacular Graeco-Roman mosaics in the Archaeological Park, plus a Byzantine church next to the pillar where St Paul was said to have been flogged. The weather was pretty good, despite the BBC’s constantly predicting rain. Beware of Britons and their weather forecasts!

While travelling in Ukraine and the Middle East, I was struck by how few Britons I met. Perhaps they are all in Cyprus, the place was full of them. Unlike some places, the locals seemed to like the British as well as the money they spend. Lots of pubs and restaurants catering to the tastes of the British abroad. I just wish I could have been part of it, from time to time. But Amigo was in lock-down mode. We stayed in the apartment until we ate lunch there. We ventured out in the afternoon, for the beach and/or food shopping but back before sunset for home-cooked dinner. We never ate or drank in a restaurant or bar, so please don't ask me what Cypriot or Anglo-Cypriot food is like. I will remind myself in London.

Luckily, the wifi in the apartment is quite good and you can get Cypriot TV. So why need to actually speak to anyone when travelling abroad?,

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limshell · 7 years

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It's been a month since I work on the cruise ship - Majestic Princess, counting down to 5 more months till I get to be back home. When I got on board, it was the China season, our home port is in Shanghai, China - and that means we have Chinese passengers. Our activities are all conducted in Chinese - phew, so glad that my parents decided to send me to Chinese primary school. Things didn't go as bad as what I thought. I was able to meet some new friends, mostly from China. There's a total of 9 of us in the team, 1 Cruise Director - which is also my supervisor 4 Assistant Cruise Director, 4 Junior Assistant Cruise Director, inclusive of myself Even though I came in as a junior, but I was given a lot of opportunity to hold the microphone (for most of our ACDs couldn't speak Chinese, so by default the responsibility of hosting would fall under us who could speak Chinese) I mostly work on 4-days itinerary cruises, the port would be either Hakata (Fukuoka) or Nagasaki. That means I meet new passengers every 4 days and the days went past like this : Day 1 - Turnaround Day : China - Disembarking the previous batch of passengers and embarkation for the new batch of passengers Day 2 - Sea Day : So when you look out the porthole or window, everywhere is just the sea and the sky, it can either be blue or grey depending on the weather. Day 3 - Port Day : Either Fukuoka/Nagasaki. Yayayy, it's a lot easier during the China season as we cruise staffs get to get down the ship and tour around the port as well. Day 4 - Sea Day : The same as Day 2, but we are now sailing back to our home port, China, and there we go again, the days of the cycle just goes on and on and on. I work 7 days a week, roughly 4-10 hours each day. The role of my job is inclusive of hosting, dancing, game shows, playing games, crowd control and socialising. Hosting itself can be introduction and credits for a variety performance show or hosting games for the passengers. Apparently, passengers enjoy dancing a lot during the China season, hence we have a lot of line dancing while the party band is playing live music. I find this to be very stressful cause I have very very poor sense of music and rhythm and I am stuck with coming out with some new moves. Traveling to work from my room takes about 5 minutes, it's nice as you don't have to worry about traffic congestion here. But working here requires a lot of discipline where there's absolutely no room available for you to be late, especially if you're the sole host for the entertainment activity. I didn't bother buying the Internet card here cause it costs USD40 for 660MB data usage, so I only have access to the Internet when I got down to the port and use the free WiFi in the terminal. It can be a bit scary as I do feel disconnected to the world at times, as I don't get to scroll through FB News Feed to know what's the latest trending stuff back in Malaysia. I turned on the BBC News Channel on the TV whenever I have time, even though they mostly talk about Trump with Jerusalem and Brexit these days, it still makes me feel alive knowing that I live in the same world as everyone else out there. I usually have a 30 mins to 2 hours break in between my activities. My only hobby here is really just reading, playing ping pong, taking a nap and writing my diary. Other than that, I honestly don't know what to do during those free time. We don't have a church service here, but we do have a Christian fellowship where the brothers and sisters would take turns leading P&W, Bible Study and Prayer night. 4 of us girls from the CF even made it a commitment that we would meet every turnaround day (which happens once every 4 days) and share about our needs and go through the word of God together. It really is a change of lifestyle now that this new place is where I have to accept as a home. There isn't a reason to tell the other crew members bye bye cause these are the people you would see everyday. We live in such a confined environment that you pretty much know the familiar faces in less than a month. I live in a shared cabin with my roommate who's also a JACD, Hannah, from China. Our rank is consider as an officer, so we are blessed with deck and officer privileges. That means we live in a white door officer cabin, have access to the passenger gym, officer mess, officer laundry and you own an account number for the purpose of paying your bills. The higher your rank is, the more benefits you are entitled for. That's it for now. I'd update more in the coming days, hopefully with some pictures as well! Till then! Xx

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sorayaadventures-blog · 7 years

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Lalibela & the Rock-Hewn Churches of New Jerusalem

No trip to Ethiopia is complete without visiting the mystical village of Lalibela, which is home to the UNESCO World Heritage Site of its rock-hewn churches.

Allow me to give you a bit of historical context before sharing my experience here: Lalibela flourished after the decline of the Kingdom of Axum (suggestively, Allen - our tour guide - mentioned he had carefully crafted our itinerary to follow the same chronology of Ethiopian dynasties, so that we could quite literally ‘walk through’ Ethiopian history). The then-emperor of Lalibela built these churches in the 12th century following his pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Upon his return, he aspired to recreate the Holy Land in his homeland; hence, it was given the nickname “New Jerusalem”.

You could tell this is the country’s hottest tourist destination as the airport terminal had working wifi, albeit still being a tiny rural terminal building. As in Axum, Allen conveniently had another van and driver ready for us outside and off we went. As we navigated the hilly roads from the airport to the mountain village, one could not help but to be absolutely stunned by how green it was and the endless sight of beautiful green valleys.

We made a pitstop at a scenic point of the mountain roads for taking photos. The cool breeze, lush greenery and peaceful silence were incredibly refreshing, and gave me an inexplicable feeling of blissful liberation; I guess I could describe it as the feeling you get from being disconnected from the world, breaking free from the shackles of technology- and information-overload that we succumb to as Millennials in the age of social media. On that green hilltop, I had the luxury of being fully in the moment, appreciating nature’s blessings - or ‘baraka’ - as I breathed in the fresh, clean and cool mountain air.

The most prominent sight in Lalibela are its rock-hewn churches, meaning they are churches carved entirely out of a single (monolithic) piece of rock in the mountains. There are multiple rock-hewn churches located next to each other, the most awe-inspiring of which is perhaps the Church of Saint George. This one is quite literally carved straight down into the ground and is in the shape of a St. George’s cross when you look at it from above.

We were lucky to have a clear sunny day as we visited the church that afternoon. Allen enthusiastically suggested doing a photoshoot while we were hanging around and sitting near the edge of the carved-in wall. His enthusiasm and demeanor resembling a professional magazine photographer was hilarious, he cracked us up and we ended up having a great time in the sun!

Down below, you could sense the wondrous aspects of the church even more. It was truly remarkable to imagine a civilization flawlessly carving an entire church out of the ground in the late 12th century, complete with symmetrical windows high up in its walls.

To watch the sunset, we drove to a restaurant called Ben Abeba Bungalow, which was located on a hilltop next to another large and lush valley. It was an interestingly shaped building with viewing points, which stretched out into the air where it felt like one had the entire valley underneath. The views were once again breathtaking.

We ordered tea, drinks and snacks as we watched the sun set behind the mountain range in the distance. The rays of light beamed through the hilltops and scattered clouds into the sapphire sky. We sat there in silence, reflecting, soaking in and cherishing nature’s beauty. Awe-struck.

The next day, Allen told us it is the Day of St. George when pilgrims come to the Church of St. George from all over the region. We had a full day of hiking planned, but we went back to the church for a quick pitstop in order to observe the church once again - this time in action amongst a sea of pilgrims dressed in white. It was a magical, better said very mystical sight to observe.

Hiking day was awesome. We did a 3-hour hike up a mountain, which supposedly had an entire village on the very top. Enroute, we came across groups of villagers heading down to the city to trade their agricultural produce and trade basic goods. This was no easy hike; we had to make our way through rocks, rivers, lots of mud, steep paths, and even path-less stretches of mud. However, these villagers made the commute down to the city and back up almost on a daily basis. Once we reached the top of the mountain, there was a door. It seemed somewhat surreal to be nearly 3,000 meters above sea level, you reach a mountain peak and all you see is a metal door - slightly Wizard of Oz-ish if you ask me. We rang the buzzer, the door opened, and there was a huge flat lot of grassland, beautiful bungalows, flora and fauna - an entire ecosystem behind a single metal door touching the sky. It was very foggy, so we didn’t get the full view of the valleys surrounding us, but it was incredible nonetheless.

On the way down, I saw a local couple coming towards us through the fog from the opposite side. They looked like an old couple. The fog surrounding them, which made it a mesmerizing scene. I couldn’t help but to feel slightly shocked to see them all the way up here, on slanted rocks edging precipice on either side. They seemed equally shocked to see us there, as they stopped and stared, wondering who are these people with colorful clothes, where do they come from and why are they here. We both stood there and gazed at each other for a good few minutes, letting our thoughts process the mild shock and numerous questions that popped into our heads. I had two conclusions: shame on my acquaintances (including myself), young and old, if we ever complain about any of life’s “hardships” and the second... Respect for the inhabitants of this village.

On our last day in Lalibela, we visited a different set of rock-hewn churches carved into pink monolithic mountain sides and partially covered in green moss in certain areas.

Inside one of the churches, a monk was stationed, guarding the church and serving as caretaker. The room was decorated in Ethiopian biblical drawings, a thin carpet on the floor and a couple of musical instruments e.g. a drum that were used on special occasions.

Conclusively, it had been an amazing 3 days in Lalibela. Tune in next week as we drive through the Ethiopian Highlands and visit the historic cities of Gondar and Bahir Dar, and sail on Lake Tana. We're also heading to the Blue Nile falls, which is the source of the Nile River!

#travel #curioustraveler #explore #adventure #newexperiences #discover #discoverethiopia #traveltoethiopia #lalibela #newjerusalem #rock hewn church #unescoworldheritagesite #unescoworldheritage #mystical #pilgrimage #church #stgeorge #globalexplorer

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