I'm practicing for a National Geo cover :p The eyes are everything in portraits. This is the beautiful May Telebi, thank you so much for everything May, and for making me feel so welcome! Flash, 1/40 sec, iso 1600, f/8, 35 mm

Happy birthday Mom!!! Thank you for being the most fantastic mom ever, and for always being there for me despite my obnoxiousness. Without you non of this would have been possible, thank you so much for your support. 

It is very challenging to write down the experience of pilgrimage. A lot of it involves visiting the historically and spiritually significant sites of the Faith, and taking time to imagine and strive to understand the challenges and suffering that happened in these places, and ultimately to gain a greater understanding.

The other aspect is that of prayer and reflection. A chance in one’s busy life to have silence is quite rare. I am always racing from one thing to the next, trying to cram as much into my day as possible, always doing something. As a result, time for reflection and prayer is cut down when I don’t make a conscious effort to set time aside for it. With that in mind, it is so very special to have a full 9 days devoted to this, and not just anywhere, in the Holy Land!

This is at the Garden of Ridvan again. I loved this fountain. 1/400 sec, f/5.6, iso 200, 300 mm

What a blessing to simply have quiet and peace to hear ones thoughts. The silence, tranquillity, and of course the beauty of everything is ever so refreshing. After praying and detaching myself from this physical world, slowing my pace and simply sitting or walking in silence with no deadlines or places to be, is quite remarkable. What is really remarkable is how clear ones thoughts become in this environment. House of Justice member Stephen Birkland mentioned this in his evening talk when he reminded of us of the words of Abdu’l-Baha: “Joy gives us wings! In times of joy our strength is more vital, our intellect keener, and our understanding less clouded.” This is precisely what happens when reflecting in the Shrines here.

Can't get enough photos of the Shrine. 25.0 sec, f/11, iso 200, 75 mm

Breathing deeply before entering the Shrine of Baha’u’llah, I am each time delighted to be met by the wafting perfume of rose petals as I push open the heavy door and step inside. The birds are chirping; the tranquillity is heavenly.

It is such a powerful experience praying in the Shrines. Overwhelming and daunting at times when your whole soul is so enraptured in prayer. A fear of not maintaining this devotion when I return home grips me—a fear of losing myself in the dust of this world, within ego and pride, a fear of again becoming so busy with life and not making time to pray and reflect. I have to force myself to pull myself away it seems, I don’t want to leave but feel that I need to. Detachment is such a challenge. I so easily become so consumed with this world, and consumed with myself. It really requires systematic effort to overcome this.

I love this fountain, it is in the shape of an 8 pointed star (I think its at sits at the very bottom of the lower terraces. 15.0 sec, f/13, iso 100, 24 mm

Well, it’s been a busy 2.5 days. Busy enough that from the time I get up in the early morning to the time I collapse into bed late at night, or more often early in the morning, I haven’t had an opportunity to write. I’ve found that I am the type of writer that really has to write when the experience is happening or just after while the emotions are still fresh. This allows me to capture the richness of the moment. It doesn’t take long unfortunately for my mind to move onto something else, and I lose to juicy details that bring the experience to life. The result is often dry documentation. Bear with me as I do my best.

Sunday evening we had a fabulous talk by House of Justice member Stephen Birkland. It was hilarious, and so down to earth. He spoke about challenges that every one of us could relate to, making countless jokes while at the same time such profound thoughts. I think two of the major highlights for me of this pilgrimage have been the talks by the House of Justice members—Kiser Barnes and Stephen Birkland. Both have been so full of joy, hilarious, inspiring and profound.

Sunday evening I went out for ice cream with a number of other pilgrims. It was great and I ended up spending most of the evening talking to a guy from San Francisco who had gone to film school and spent quite some time working in the industry. It’s always helpful to talk to people with experience and get their perspective.

Keng Soon decided to get an extra scoop since it was 15 for one scoop and 20 for 2, he later regretted that. 1/60 sec, f/5.6, iso 3200, 41 mm

The place we had ice cream is at the very top of the mountain, so I convinced May who is a staff member on pilgrimage to take me down the terraces so that I could take some pictures (the terraces close around sunset). What a magnificent view from the mountaintop at night! I hope my pictures turned out. It was a very enjoyable walk down the terraces conversing with May, taking pictures, and soaking in the awesome view. When we got to the bottom, I realized that I had left the cover for my tripod at the top, which was disappointing but not the end of the world. Then, I realized that more significantly I had also left my computer. May called security, and just in the nick of time as they were about to call the bomb squad. They don’t take unattended luggage lightly here. They brought it back down for me, which I was quite grateful for and a little embarrassed.

What a view! 20.0 sec, f/14, iso 400, 18 mm

I walked the rest of the way down to the Port Inn, arriving at about 1:00 am. I was up 4.5 hours later to get ready and head off to the Garden of Ridvan.

The Garden of Ridvan was quite special. I wish we had had a little more time there. We had all the fresh oranges from the orange grove we could wish for to feast on. Unfortunately the pomegranates and avocados weren’t in season. I took some video, which will hopefully turn out; you’ll have to stay tuned for that.

This was our group for pilgrimage! This is at the Garden of Ridvan. I am so blessed to have been on this journey with each of these individuals. For any of you wondering I am going to send this picture out, I am going to try to photoshop in Richard first if I can find a suitable photo of him. 1/200 sec, f/8.0, iso 100, 21 mm

After that we visited another one of the houses in Akka, and I stayed behind after to have lunch and take some more video of the waves, before continuing on to Bahji.

This is at the Saturday market in Akka. 1/125 sec, f/7.1, iso 800, 18 mm

Last night I was once again dragged out for ice cream at the same place. It was nice again, lots of people. We walked down the upper terraces again, this time with Maryam. It took us some time as we stopped to talk to some of the youth serving in security. Got home around the same time.

Maryam has a thing for portraiture. My phone and camera are full of closeups of people, and too many of me. 1/60 sec, f/3.5, iso 400, 18 mm

I can’t believe that today is the last day. It’s all gone so so incredibly fast. I feel like it came in three main stages for me.

The first stage was that of detaching myself from this material world and becoming spiritually present. Then the next happened in the blink of an eye and was so clear—understanding as to how I need to tread my path of service became quite clear. Now, the third stage is praying for the strength and assistance to carry out that plan and to stay on that path, maintaining that focus.

I go back and forth on whether or not I like this shot. This is my first experimentation with zooming during the exposure to add texture. I did this with a 2.0 sec exposure by leaving it for a moment, then zooming in, and leaving it for another moment. The zoom gives it the soft streak sort of texture. I actually think its pretty cool, but I have to look at it by itself to appreciate it. 2.0 sec, f/32, iso 100, 75 - 300 mm lens, zoom in that range.

Our pilgrimage closed with circumambulating the Shine of the Bab once again as a full group. We did this just at sunset, and it was ever so beautiful. One thing about the gardens is that they never seem to look the same, each day the light falls on the slightly differently creating new and fulfilling experiences. In total silence we slowly and reverently completed the circumambulation.

This is the fountain at the bottom of the terraces. 1/10 sec, f/5.0, iso 200, 41 mm

It's a camera fight! A photo duel. These two photos were taken somewhat simultaneously. I thought it was kinda fun with photoshop. Taken with my iPhone and t2i/550D

Once the sun set I took the opportunity to run to the bottom of the terraces to take pictures, and then run back up. I had a nice cool sweat working for me by the time I got back up. We went out for dinner around 10:00, our last evening together in Haifa.

Taking photos in Haifa and Akka. - iPhone

Maryam, Doris, and Jenny all took the train together to Ben Gurion. We had fun playing with our passports. Did you know American passports have a story on each page? Such patriotism.

Every page has a different picture and patriotic quote. - iPhone

This is Michael and Mahtab. Maryam took this and I edited it. The eyes make the photo!

I was thankful for their company, as we arrived around 7:30 pm, and I my flight wasn’t until 4:50 am. Mathab and Michael showed up a little later, and together the time went quite quick. I actually quite enjoyed it. At last it was time to part, and to fly far far away to a place called home.

Amsterdam from the air! I was pretty lucky to have a view out the window for at least half of the 15 hours of flight time. Lots of snow and ice. - iPhone

The aspiring filmmaker. I hope you've all enjoyed the photos! It's taken a lot of learning and work to get to where I am with them, and so far more to go. Please leave comments! And stay tuned for video yet to come. - Maryam with my iPhone and the Luminance app

I gave Maryam my camera to take a picture, and she wouldn't give it back! Now I have a thousand pictures of myself.

Finally another update! I’m catching up in chunks, so I have lots more photos and stories to share. Hope you enjoy.

It’s all so overwhelming. 9 days feels so short, and I’m only on day 2. I’m afraid to spill the jumble of my soul and the future of my life, in fear of that being able to pack it back up in time to leave. Such a short time, and so so much to do.

Thank God for RAW files! This almost turned out alright despite the haze. Polarizing filter, 1/80 sec, f/14, iso 200, 55 mm

After coming back from Bahji today we met with the members of the Universal House of Justice (UHJ). Walking up to, and then into the UHJ is a very impressive experience; it gives you a real sense of the might and sacred nature of this institution. All of the pilgrims were seated in the main hall. After some time we were asked to be silent, and waited in silence for some minutes before a door was heard opening upstairs from the Seat of the Universal House of Justice, followed by footsteps. Eight members (one was absent) solemnly trooped in and took their seats in front of the room. As they came in, all 350 pilgrims rose to their feet.

Looking at them all sitting there was quite powerful. These are the men that carry the responsibility of this Faith. In their demeanour you could see the weight of this colossal responsibility. Each alone mere men, but together as 9 members a supreme institution. After a prayer and incredibly kind and joyful words of welcome from one of the members, each member waded out into the sea of pilgrims and shook the hand of each and every one, welcoming them to the Holy Land with utmost sincerity and kindness.

Unfortunately I didn't do a very good job of photographing the UHJ, I really needed people in there for perspective. 1/100 sec, f/10, iso 400, 18 mm

Full. My soul brims with joy, and I happily reside in the valley of contentment. It is a contentment that nothing else in life can give, one that comes only through spiritual nourishment, through prayer and reflection. What a blessing it is the pray and reflect at these most sacred Thresholds, in the most holy spot on earth.

After losing myself in prayer answers seemed to come so quick and simple as I began to reflect. Things that I have been agonizing about for weeks and avoiding thinking about became clear and evident in a flash flood. I am so blessed to have this opportunity. One elderly pilgrim in our group said that the first day of his pilgrimage was the first day of his life.

This was at the Garden of Ridvan just outside of Akka. I had a lot of fun with this fountain playing with shutter speeds to freeze the moment but still have enough motion blur to keep it dynamic. 1/500 sec, f/5.6, iso 400, 300 mm

Today we spent our day visiting Akka and the prison where Baha’u’llah was incarcerated upon His arrival here. We also visited the house where He moved after He was allowed to leave the cell into moderately more comfortable living quarters.

6.0 sec, f/10, iso 100, 18 mm

Yesterday we had a trip to the archives building. Wow. First of all it’s quite the building, all of the buildings on the arc are. It was the first built on the arc and contains the artefacts from the history of the faith. It is very simple and tasteful inside with a hardwood mezzanine, and polished marbled floors that reflect the image of the chandeliers back up.

The walls of the room are lined with beautifully built wooden cabinets that contain the artefacts. Each one is sealed to preserve the contents from the harassment of air. When the doors to the cabinet are opened, a light fades up inside illuminating the contents. Each cabinet was handmade specifically for this purpose.

As we went in, our guide—a very well dressed and kind Persian gentleman—took time to carefully explain to us what was in each of the three cabinets that were in the far end of the room, their significance and history. The one on the left was a photograph of Baha’u’llah—this is very significant because it is the only photograph that Baha’is are allowed to see of Him. The one in the centre contained three portraits of Baha’u’llah, and the one on the right contained the most authentic portrait of the Bab that we have.

Slowly and humbly our guide opened the doors to these three cabinets and stood back, one by one. The lights faded up, and we all stood in still silence for several minutes gazing upon the contents. It was several minutes before someone ventured closer for a look, and then we began cycling through looking at each in absolute silence. I spent most of my time unable to take my eyes off of the photograph of Baha’u’llah; it was riveting. I was unsure about seeing it at first, wondering if I wouldn’t like what I saw or be disappointed. I was struck, however, by the majesty and power evident in His features. I’m not sure how else to describe it, but it gave me a whole new perspective or frame of reference.

Seeing all of the other historical items as well, and all the places—the prison cell, and then houses that Baha’u’llah and Abdu’l-Baha lived in—is so wonderful as I have read and heard so many stories about things happening in each of these places, and it is quite special to now actually see them for myself. It is often quite difficult for me to fathom that these are the same places, and the significance of them.

I love this round about, it just adds so much to the picture. This was taken on a late night walk down from the upper terraces, thanks to May Talebi for being amazing and taking me down the terraces! 25.0 sec, f/11, iso 200, 90 mm

Stay tuned, lots more pictures, stories, and hopefully video to come! I’m in Amsterdam at the moment, getting close. Time to go find my gate.

Happy mothers day mom! I know that you are always curious about what I am doing, and concerned about me so here is an update for you. Thank you for being such a loving mom.

This is taken from the bottom of the terraces, with me standing in the middle of Ben Gurion (the road) on a small strip between lanes with my tripod. Too many people felt the obnoxious need to honk at me. It was well worth it, I think this is one of my favourites. 5.0 sec, f/14, iso 200, 105 mm

I forgot to mention the relief seeing the terraces in the distance upon finally arriving in Haifa. I’m not sure if it was Abdu’l-Baha or Shoghi Effendi, but one of them wrote in the description of how the Shrine of the Bab should be constructed that it should be clearly visible from a distance to all those arriving by ship to Haifa. It definitely is visible from a distance. Next time I come I want to come by water, I’d like to sail here to have that experience, and sail to Akka as well. Each time I come I have a goal for the next time it seems, last time was to write about the experience, and this time it’s to sail here. Getting bigger.

I love shallow depths of field, and these stones! They carpet the pathways to the Shines. I'm told that they were all hand picked from the Sea of Galilee. 1/400 sec, f/5.6, iso 100, 55 mm

First day of pilgrimage

It hasn’t really sunk in that I am here yet, and it is certainly taking some time. The last little while I’ve been feeling a little out of it, spiritually, in another world. It’s an interesting experience while caught up with travelling, and I find it takes more effort to maintain any sort of spirituality when the physical senses are constantly distracted and occupied with new sights and surroundings, and lack of privacy.

After checking in at the pilgrim centre this morning, we (the pilgrims) have been spending the late morning and early afternoon waiting for the welcome at 2:30. With some time to spare I went for a walk in the gardens on the upper terraces, above the Shrine of the Bab. We weren’t allowed to visit the Shrine until we went as a group for the first time. It’s hard not to be inspired by the surrounding of such beauty, especially on such a magnificent and grand scale. It’s a little overwhelming, and suddenly 9 days doesn’t seem like anywhere near enough time.

Right now I’m feeling a little melancholic, and spiritually absent from myself. I can’t wait to move beyond this, for some time to pray and meditate surrounded by peace and tranquillity, beauty and nature. I’m at the centre of the universe! I feel such a need for my being to collapse itself at these holy Thresholds in absolute humility and prayer, a need to empty myself of this world before I can move forward. I want so badly to be here and spiritually present. It takes time, it seems, for me to adjust.

I love this fountain, it's so beautiful. I love the texture, light, and composition of this. 1/20 sec, f/5.6, iso 100, 55 mm.

I’m not quite ready to step into the Shrine of Abdu’l-Baha and the Bab (after being welcomed in the International Teaching Centre (ITC) auditorium). As a pilgrim group we just circumambulated the shrine; I think there are around 350 pilgrims. Now I’m sitting on the second step from the top of the lower terraces, just below the shrine. Last time I was here it was covered up as it was undergoing a restoration. What a blessing for the renovations to be finished this time. It is such a fantastic, majestic (majestic feels too weak a word) structure. It takes some time and effort to wrap ones head around the significance of this all. My gates are starting to give, but still holding fast. I’m almost afraid to let them open for fear of drowning.

As we were walking on the Arc to the shrine of the Bab, I began to think about significance. The last week I have spent visiting significant religious and historical sites. They are all ancient and their day has long passed and they have lost their virility. When in these places I often imagine what they would have been like in their prime, in their day, and try to bring life to the ruins. It is so different here in Haifa, I can’t help but think as I stand on the Arc. I am awestruck staring up at the supremacy of Universal House of Justice, just in its architecture. My mind has to function in overdrive in order to fathom the enormity and significance of this building. Its visual stunning exterior is a mere symbol the spiritual rock that it is in a crumbling world. This Faith is in its prime, this is its day. I am walking in history, the history of a faith that is still in its infancy. For just under the next thousand years this will be the spiritual center of the world. Then, its day will pass and it will return to the dust like those other sights that I have visited. I can’t help but hope that when this cycle comes to a close, the Baha’is will not be stuck clinging to the past but will recognize the future.

I wish I had a shot with someone standing beside one of these pillars to illustrate the scale of them. They look quite small in this photograph, but in reality they are quite immense and impressive. 1/125 sec, f/10, iso 200, 18 mm

Writing helps me think, it allows me to clear my mind and slow down my thoughts to a more methodical and coherent pace. I can feel the gates of my heart beginning to open, and a swell of emotion beginning to build. The scale of the beauty, I can never describe. All I can say, bluntly, is it’s quite impressive. I only wish that my photos could portray the tiniest portion of the grandeur.

The car lights add a lot of dynanmism to the photo, but it is such a hard composition to bring together ascetically. I think it needs a higher angle and a much longer exposure to bring more light into the black surrounding areas, and several minutes of traffic streaks on the street. It's still a cool picture though. 8.0 sec, f/14, iso 100, 75 mm

I think it’s time to unlock and step inside.

Full auto

What a different experience walking up the terraces is with the renovations on the Shrine completed. This morning began with Chris—an Austrian Baha’i also staying at the Port Inn. We walked together through the busy streets of Haifa working to keep ourselves from being flattened by the rushing traffic. We came to the foot of the terraces, and the foot of Mount Carmel. It was 9:00 am and the sun was already high in the sky. As we began walking up the terraces I could already begin to feel my black cotton pants clinging to my skin as I began to perspire. Looking up from the bottom of the terraces I could see the Shine of the Bab, its golden dome gleaming magnificently in the sunlight, a superb piece of architecture. As I approached the first set of steps my perspective shifted and the Shrine disappeared from view. With each step of ascension, however, more and more of the Shrine was revealed again until I came out onto the first terrace—a sort of oasis. Here I was able once again to gaze upon most of the Shrine. Chris and I climbed on in contended silence gazing up at such majesty, side by side, step by step. With each new set of steps the Shrine would shrink from view, and then expand once again with the ascension to another terrace. Each time it became a little larger.

Metaphorically I think it can symbolize among many things, the process of crisis and victory. Overcoming each test brings us closer to our goal and gives us new perspective, but then we must continue on our path leaving behind the comfort of that perspective to overcome another test and confusion of our perspective before we are able to again attain a greater perspective, an ongoing process. I took a series of photos and some video to illustrate this, but they need some work before I show them and I only have Lightroom on this computer.

This cat figured out that it can live off the generosity of the Baha'is, so now it hangs around the pilgrim center. Every time I see a cat now in Israel I try to get a shot of it, they're usually too fast for me though. 1/125 sec, f/5.6, iso 100, 55 mm

We met with our pilgrim guide and group this morning. We began by introducing ourselves and sharing our journeys that we underwent to get here. Most of our group are over 50; I’m definitely one of the youngest and without a doubt the youngest on my own. We loaded on the bus and headed off for the Shrine of Baha’u’llah. Our guide has such a pleasant and enjoyable voice that I was quite contented to sit on the bus and listen as we drove and she pointed things out, elaborating with history and stories.

Trudging along the path to the Shrine of Baha’u’llah, I felt like a real pilgrim for the first time. We trudged on in silence as a group, collectively our shoes crunched consistently on the pebbles. The pace was unhurried but steady. Vegetation grows up on each side of the path, making it a long narrow and straight path to the Shrine, the most holy spot on earth. The path seemed in a good way to go on and on, and I was quite contented to trudge on, it seemed quite fitting.

Dusk at Bahji. That is the Shrine of Baha'u'llah directly ahead, and the mansion of Bahji to the left. 5.0 sec, f/5.6, iso 200, 18 mm

This was on Saturday, our day off. Full auto

This is the house of Abbud in Akka. Polarizing filter. 1/160 sec, f/10, iso 100, 20 mm

A comment on my photography. I was speaking with another one of the pilgrims today and he noted that it seemed like a lot of my shots are more artistic. I guess I’m trying, and I’m not really trying to document. I know that I can’t capture the spirit and visual scale through photography, so I’m just trying to capture vignettes of the beauty, sort of like a splash of paint across a canvas. Photography is such an art, and I am such a baby at it, but I’m trying.

I hope you enjoy the photos! I have much more to come, but for now I’m off the the Shrines to pray. Happy mothers day mom! I love you.

Cool Tiberius dock. 1/200 sec, f/14, iso 100, 28 mm

Tiberius. I arrived here late last night, around 11:30. I had spent the day waiting until sundown and for the bus’ to begin running again (the end of Shabbat). While waiting for the tram just outside the old city—I waited for about an hour before it finally came—a Russian guy noticed the Canadian flag on my pack and became very eager to speak with me. His parents were living in Vancouver it turns out, and he wanted to go there to study engineering. His English was a little strained, but he was putting a great deal of effort into it and was very friendly. He asked for my facebook so he would know someone when he comes to Vancouver.

Tiberius nightlife. - iPhone

After checking into the hostel in Tiberius—I was the only one in a room with 4 beds and a private bathroom—I went out in search of food and headed towards the water (the Sea of Galilee). It was about midnight by then. I’ve often been eating only two meals a day of late, either out of lack of places to eat or in a simple effort to save money. It’s interesting staying at hostels because everyone is generally in the same boat—the cheap one—and trying to save money. There was a Finish guy at the Citadel in Jerusalem that had all his money stolen and after paying his spot on the roof for a week, had 80 shekels left for the week. That’s a falafel a day.

I haven't been eating much for breakfast, so I went all out today. So worth the $7. - iPhone

I quickly became fascinated wandering along the lively streets towards the water. Not just any water, this is the water that Jesus walked on. Cafes, bars, restaurants, but most were all selling slurpees and icecream, and a few pizza. The streets were alive with yount men and women, the girls all prettied up for a night out on the town. It was very warm and I was quite comfortable walking in my shorts and t-shirt, covered in a light sweat from earlier. Music blasted out of the cafes and bars, drifting waves of top 40 western club music onto the streets. I found myself on the waterfront, distracted from my food finding mission by the nightlife. I was quite pleased. I love waterfronts, especially on warm nights. There were big wooden tour boats and small speedboats all tied up. Across a small strip of water Gotye sang from an open air jutty bar. It was interesting that it felt much more authentic, inhabited by locals, and yet it was very westernized.

Waterfront shop, icecream, slurpees, soft drinks... 1/100 sec, f/10, iso 400, 18 mm

It’s a pretty dirty city, and it reminds me quite heavily of Addis Ababa in terms of the street construction and layer of dust or dirt that covers everything, bleaching it grey. I had planned to take a bike around the sea, but I don’t think I have the energy and don’t want to pay the 70 shekels for the rental. I think I’ll just wander aimlessly around for the rest of the afternoon, have something nice to heat and then head for Haifa as sunset approaches, for the first day of my pilgrimage!

I love boats. 1/320 sec, f/6.3, iso 100, 46 mm

This afternoon while killing time in Tiberius, and being quite bored, I ran into Fatimah and Julie, which was a pleasant surprise. We sat down for dinner together and shared a pizza. Julie asked me to explain what the Baha’i faith was and we had some very interesting conversation about the Faith, and the equality of men and women in Catholicism and Islam.

After I headed to the bus for Haifa. I was utterly lost upon arriving in Haifa, and could not see the water anywhere, which threw me off. I spent quite some time asking people for directions but no one seemed to speak English well enough to help. Finally after phoning the information people from the bus info phone several times, and being transferred to someone who spoke better English, I found a bus to take. Thankful for being here before and having a faint memory of the city I managed to get off at the right place and find my way to the hostel without any problems.

I’ve got lots more written, I just have to transcribe it to the interwebs. Hopefully I’ll have a chance tomorrow, but tonight I must sleep.

Well, it’s been two days, a busy two days. Where to begin.

The team. Polarizing filter, 1/100 sec, f/14, iso 200, 30 mm

Yesterday. We—Fatimah (studying in Germany to become a teacher), Julie (studying history in Germany), Anil (just finished a PhD in neuro science in Perth), and Sonia (undergrad in International Development, works in business in the UK)—headed off from the hostel at 7:30 am to find a car rental agency. After some walking and confusion—how about 50% of my time here is spent—we found a small rental shop. Anil signed on as the driver to save the insurance premium they wanted to charge me for being under 21, and I gave them my credit card as collateral.

Our gutless Fiat

Once we finally got the car we spent some time trying to figure out how to get out of the city and to the Dead Sea without passing through the West Bank. Finally we concluded that it is divided into two parts, and there is a road the runs through the two sides (of the West Bank) from Jerusalem to the Dead Sea, which is supposedly still Israeli territory.

Wow, I interrupt this transmission to bring you a description of the call to prayer echoing from rooftop to rooftop. It started with one minaret, and then one by one more and more join in. A cacophony of wailing and conflicting sounds hash it out over the city, echoing. There is an absolute lack of unity in the sound, and the result is an overwhelming bombardment.

I should mention the car we rented, a Fiat. It was the most gutless vehicle I’ve ever driven, it had to work pretty hard to make it up the hills, and I felt like I was eternally gearing down. Israeli drivers are… much more aggressive than Canadians, and they love their horns. They seem to abide by the funnel concept where if you want to get anywhere you have to shove yourself in front of the other cars, cutting them off. To wait in a cue would be ridiculous. I had a dump truck decide it wanted to change lanes and just start moving over into my lane without any warning, forcing me into the next lane.

Starting out on the upward trek. Polarizing filter, 1/80 sec, f/16, iso 100, 39 mm

After about an hour and a half of driving we arrived at the base of Masada (after passing along the Dead Sea). We paid inside the massive tourist complex that guards the base before heading off for the walk up to long winding path to the top of Herod’s fortress, and the site of the Israeli army’s swearing in ceremonies. I should mention the heat. It is quite dry which is nice, but very all encompassing—there is no respite from it. As we walked we watched as the cable car whisked generous paying passengers to the top, high above our heads. The trek up the mountain took us about and hour, and we were pretty warm by the time we reached the top.

Quite the path. Polarizing filter, 1/80 sec, f/13, iso 100, 18 mm

It was a pretty impressive fortress, all ruins now of course. I find myself less interested by ruins themselves, and more absorbed with the views of nature, and anything that is large and impressive. Around the edge of the complex (it spans a large pinnacle of rock top) there are plenty of impressive views of the barren landscape that surround the legend. There were some Travel Network Group photographers with pretty impressive DSLR video rigs and audio equipment that I was quite jealous of.

Check out that rig. 1/200 sec, f/14, iso 100, 90 mm

We walked for a while, taking in the views and talking about the history. After a bit we split up and I ended up wandering with Sonia. We’ve had some pretty interesting conversations over the last couple days. We talked about races and genetics, peace and conflict, and much more. After some time we found the rest of our group and started the trek down.

Downward. Polarizing filter, 1/80 sec, f/18, iso 200, 18 mm

We first drove to Mineral Beach as Lonely Planet boasts it to be the best, but when we saw the 50 shekel price tag on the entrance fee, we decided to head back to the much less attractive but free Ein Gedi beach. It wasn’t much of a beach at all, but a steep rocky slope. As we walked towards the water I noticed a sort of tacky ugly white line along the water, I’m not sure what I though it was but I was quite shocked to learn that it was solid salt formation when we got closer.

Fatimah enjoying the salt. 1/80 sec, f/10, iso 100 55 mm

I didn’t really have a whole lot of expectations for the Dead Sea, quite frankly it was beyond my comprehension, and I couldn’t even really imagine what it was going to be like as I’ve never floated in my life. In fact, I sink at 4 m/s. It surpassed all my absent dreams. It was quite unreal, and definitely a worth while experience. It’s just like being a big water noodle that simply floats around can’t sink. I couldn’t swim on my stomach and use my feet to kick as they would float too high out of the water. It was bizarre to lay on my back with my full body breaching the surface of the water. If you’re not careful, however, you’ll roll over like an unbalanced noodle and it stings like hell to get and eye full of salt, not to mention it doesn’t taste so hot. I quite enjoyed it (not the salt in the face). Anyone who says the Dead Sea isn’t that exciting, I guess it’s just personal taste but I think it’s a pretty awesome experience, at least once.

Floating Anil. Pentax Optio

Salt formations. 1/200 sec, f/14, iso 100, 53 mm

It's so cool! Polarizing filter? 1/80 sec, f/10, iso 100, 55 mmThe Dead Sea, it's quite pretty. Polarizing filter, 1/80 sec, f/13, iso 100, 55 mm

After floating, taking pictures, showering, and sitting on the rocks and salt we headed back to find some food (we hadn’t eaten all day). It was around 5:30 by then. After passing through Jerusalem we spent some time trying to find Abu Shukari where Lonely Planet claims the best hummus in the country is. We had all sorts of different kinds of hummus, which just means different topping on the hummus dish. They were good, though I guess I don’t have an Israeli palette because I wouldn’t call it the best.

Unfortunately the wind was howling and shaking the camera a little, so it didn't turn out as I had hoped with the long exposure. 10 sec, f/16, iso 100, 130 mm

Trying to make the most use of our car rental we decided to drive up to the top of the Mount of Olives and take in the view overlooking the old city. I should mention we first filled up for gas, $2 a litre! I thought we had it rough in Canada. I guess the geopolitics in the region make getting fuel into Israel an expensive ordeal. It took us quite some time to get to the Mount of Olives doing several circles and trying various streets. At one point we realized we were driving the wrong day down a one way street after we found a line of cars coming towards us with nowhere to turn around. I swear there was no sign warning that the street was changing from two to one way. We also found ourselves in the Muslim residential area where we clearly were not welcome as people kept telling us to leave. On our way back on a fairly steep, narrow street (due to two lines of parked cars on either side of the street) we ran into quite the traffic jam. Of course everyone began laying on their horns, which really doesn’t help anything and it quite obnoxious from our perspective. A guy coming the other way in a spotless BMW was boxed in and couldn’t go any further down the street, both lanes of traffic were completely jammed up. He got out and started yelling at us in Hebrew. After a while I yelled back at him to inform him that I didn’t speak Hebrew, after he figured that out he stopped, realizing it was fruitless. Finally we were able to inch ahead, and after a few more stops, more horns and yelling we got out and back onto a wider street. Finally, we found our way to the top of the Mount of Olives. Gorgeous. What a fantastic view, I can’t get over this city. I was able to take a few photos, but it was cool and we were all pretty tired. It was about 11:30 pm by then. Some Arabs came over to welcome us. They were blasting music from their car and happily dancing around. We drove in a giant circle before we found our way back town to park the car and head to the hostel. We stopped by the Western Wall, and then got lost again on our way back to the hostel. Finally, we arrived.

Today I pulled myself reluctantly out of bed to rush off to the line for the Temple mount for 7:00 with Anil before the line was outside the city. After waiting for a few minutes we discovered that it wasn’t open Friday or Saturday. We went and took the car back, and then went to get some hummus and falafel for breakfast. After that we headed for the Israel Museum.

It’s official, I’m just not that into museums. I was quite sleepy, and I got museum syndrome—sore feet. It always seems to happen! There was a few cool things though, definitely the huge model of the old city and the second temple was pretty awesome. We went on a guided tour for a bit, but after a while I wandered off and found myself in the modern art gallery, which I loved. I could’ve spent hours there just taking in each piece. There was several Picasso’s, which was pretty cool, and a lot of other great stuff. I didn’t realize I liked art galleries so much.

This is the model of the old city. Pretty spectacular. Polarizing filter, 1/160 sec, f/13, iso 100, 18 mm

The minarets are calling out to the world again. It always starts with one, and then others join in the echo and till they are in full cacophony. It’s quite the experience, especially sitting on the roof gazing out at the lit up city. “I feel like there’s a religion yelling match going on” Sonia quips in her Irish accent. Too true. “It’s just so ominous, it just surrounds you, it’s crazy” say and American guy sitting with us. “I don’t know I think it sets the mood” says Anil.

This afternoon I had a fantastic conversation about literature with Sonia on the roof. Later I went out with her and Anil to watch a procession of monks on the trail of the Via Delarosa—the path Christ was forced to walk as he carried his cross to where he was to be crucified. We say an ankle bone with a nail through it today at the museum, the only evidence of crucifixion that has been found apparently. There was quite a crowd, hundreds of people following these monks. After a while we lost them, and decided to go to the supermarket to get some food for dinner. We collaborated, and had a fantastic dinner overlooking this ancient and rich city.

A delicious meal with a delicious view. 1/100 sec, f/14, iso 100, 18 mm

It’s been a fulfilling two days, so great to have people to share it with.

Looking out from Mr. Herzl. 1/100 sec, f/20, iso 100, 47 mm

Today… I was the last up instead of the first today, which worked for me as long I miss the shower rush. I had some hummus and stale pita I’d bought a few days ago for breakfast. It’s always good, and so filling! While on my computer in the common area myself and another German girl figured out that we had similar plans (none) for the day, so we ended off heading off together.

We took the tram to the end of the new city—Mt. Herzl to visit the Holocaust Museum (Yad Vashem). I should mention first we had some breakfast, me a mango slurpy for 5 skekels (so good!) and her an ice-cream sandwich.

Yad Vashem was pretty intense, to say the least. It was huge, and had so much, so many stories, so much tragedy. I’m not really the museum type, I generally get bored in them. I love history, but I like it to be brought to life for me in a story, so that I can actually transport my imagination there, and mentally interact with it. The only way I really enjoy museums is to really use my imagination to bring to life everything I see or read, and try to imagine the experience, the story, what if would have been like. I did this today, and I spent a lot of the time feeling quite sick. It goes without saying that it’s just such an incredibly dark period of human history. It was really interesting experiencing it with a German, and in Israel surrounded by Israeli soldiers that were also experiencing it. We have studies it multiple times throughout school; I remember watching Schindler’s List for the first time in Grade 8. This time felt much more personal, however, because I am in the state that has been built by the survivors. We spent several hours going through the museum. I was pretty beat by the end.

Intriguing.

We then took the tram back to the central bus station, and walked from there in search of food. After quite a bit of wandering we found ourselves at the Kneesat (the Israeli parliament). We went up to look at it, and snap a couple of pictures. A guard came up to us to ask if he could help. He clearly had to much time on his hands. He asked if we had our ID with us, and told us we should go into see the Kneesat, even though it was closed today for tourists and there would be no guide. We went along and found ourselves inside. Unsure of what to do, we wandered around. Once in awhile someone would come ask what we were looking or and direct us in another direction. We went into the chamber for a bit, and then wandered and left.

The chamber at the Kneesat. - iPhone

Cool artwork at the Kneesat - iPhone

No comment. - iPhone

The water at Kneesat was delicious! - iPhone

After that we just wandered back, stopped at a park, and had some falafel. It was a long day of walking! I tried to book a car to go to Masada and the Dead Sea tomorrow, but they wanted and extra 60 shekels because I’m under 21. Luckily I was able to find two German girls, and an Australian guy that are going to come with me, so not only will it be quite cheap but they can put the car under their name. I’m looking forward to it. I love this hostel, it’s cheap and great for meeting people. Just added an Irish women to the car for tomorrow, score!

Intense merry go round! I spun forever, I don't think I've ever been so dizzy. - iPhone

A beautiful view from the ramparts, looking out at Jerusalem and I believe towards Palestine. This is a 25 second shutter speed, f/13, iso 200, 110 mm

I just had a fascinating conversation with the girl sleeping next to me. I asked where she was from, and when she said Germany I commented on the amount of Germans there seems to be in Israel. I’m glad I said that, because she went on to explain why she though that was, one reason at least. She said that in school they spend a lot of time learning about the Second World War, and the history of their country. As a result, she thinks that many young Germans struggle to come to terms with this as their families are linked to the war, and many come to Israel to explore and learn more about their history. I found this fascinating, and it was certainly a perspective that I had never thought of before. We spoke more about dealing with the Holocaust, and why that is important. I deeply enjoyed it because it is a topic that you don’t normally have, or I don’t normally have with Germans, it’s more something that you try to ignore and forget about which we all know is not healthy. It was interesting talking about the comparison of Nazi Germany and anti-Semitism to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and how we might view it.

We continued on to talk about religion; she was born in Turkey and her parents were Muslim. I explained why I was here and a little bit about the Baha’i Faith. Nobody seems to have heard of the Faith; I’m of course not having this conversation with Israelis. I’ve been finding the reaction from people quite interesting when I tell them I’m here on pilgrimage, for the most part they seem almost disappointed, and certainly don’t understand. I suppose it makes sense when all of the youth I have met so far are either atheist or agnostic, and they have a bit of a repulsion to organized religion.

Another shot of the view. These were tough shots, it's always impossible to capture the scale. This shot is with a 15 second shutter speed, f/18, iso 200, 41 mm

Trying to capture the enormity.

I sat in the lobby for awhile this evening conversing with an Australian and a Finnish man, and a German girl. At some point I left to go find food, and they went to drink. When I came back I found them sitting on the roof drinking whiskey and smoking hookah, and having a pretty entertaining debates about things such as the comparison between Nazi Germany and the US, 9/11, Iraq, and so on.

Taxis waiting out by the Jaffa gate. 1/13 sec, f/7.1, iso 1600, 35 mm

Well, today was a lesson on why you should plan ahead, and why my figure it out as it goes strategy only works in moderation. In my defence, it’s awfully hard to plan ahead without understanding all of the variables, and when people give you terrible incomplete directions. Anyway, I won’t call it an aborted day, but rather a learning and scouting trip.

I made a slow start to the day, but in the later morning packed up all my gear (back into two bags instead of three for the first time since YVR). I searched out and finally found the tram (train) that goes from just outside the old city to the central bus station. This was still under construction last time I was here. From the bus station I took a bus to Masada. I hadn’t realized just how remote and isolated everything on the Dead Sea is. I guess that’s why the guy at the tours place told me that if I wasn’t going to take a tour I should at least rent a car. Upon arriving in Masada (about an hour and a half later) I stepped out into the warm dry heat. I loved it, it wasn’t sweltering and humid, but incredibly warm and dry. I was in the lowest place on earth. I walked over to the Masada Guest house which is also supposed to be a hostel, but is more of a luxury hotel, a fortress really. Unfortunately, quite unfortunately, it turned out that they were all full up for the night. This threw my plans for quite the spin. After sitting for a while and adding numbers, weighing my options, I decided to go back to Jerusalem and come back the next day with a rented car. (It was already late in the afternoon and not enough time to hike up to Masada and back in time to get the bus). So, here I am back in Jerusalem. I think I’ll stay here again tomorrow and then look into renting a car for the next day. It’ll work out to cost similar in the end, as the hostel I’m at here is putting me out 45 shekels a night ($12 CAD) and the hostels on the Dead Sea were all over 100 shekels.

The Temple Mount! 1/8 sec, f/9, iso 1600, 155 mm

My favourite scene of the day: after spending and hour or so wandering the empty and dimply lit streets of the old city (I stopped to take pictures), I finally found a falafel place that was open. I sat down at a booth against the wall lined with a mirror at the back of the shop. It allowed me to observe what was happening on the street and where the man was making falafel, without turning around. A couple came in; a Japanese girl and a middle eastern guy. After watching in confusion as they guy tried to say a few words to the owner, I first thought that he didn’t speak any English or Hebrew. Then when the girl began going over to the sign out front and pointing to what she wanted and signing, I realized that she must be deaf or mute. Watching them communicate with one another was the cutest thing. After the stall owner came out to look at the sign to see what they were pointing at, and some more silent interactions, he gave them each a flafel to eat while they waited for him to prepare their pita pockets. They made sure not to eat them at first but to use them to pose and take pictures of each other in front of the sign with the menu printed on it. Watching their expressions, their smiles, and their silent but understanding interaction was so heart warming. It was so peaceful, pure, and beautiful. It was only after observing for some them that I realized that I was looking at a mirror. Funny how that happens.

That's the couple in the background there. Couldn't resist.

Mute love under the Jerusalem streetlights.

I wonder how many Minarets and how many Church bells there are in Jerusalem. I sat by this one for awhile to record the audio, hopefully it turns out.

Good morning morning everyone (it’s morning for me).

The sun rises oh so early here, around 4:30 or 5:00 am I think. The Mosques are quite early risers as well, and like to sing throughout the wee hours – 3:00-4:00 am ish. I got up at 5:20 since it was fully light out, and I wanted to have a shower before everyone got up. Consequently I was tiptoeing around trying not to wake anyone as I was the first up, when the churches started banging away at their bells to let everyone know it was 5:30, it covered up my noise pretty well.

This is where I slept! It was quite enjoyable, although I think I woke up a few more times. I kept checking on the view to make sure something spectacular wasn't happening that I should capture. In the end it was all spectacular and my camera was several floors down in a locker so I didn't capture anything, except this with my phone.

It’s amazing how good a shower can make you feel! What bliss. I’m sitting in the lobby now writing this and watching Bruce Willis in Tears of the Sun with Arabic subtitles. I think I’m going to try and find my way back to the bus station pretty soon and try to make it to Masada. Here’s a few more pictures.

Another shot with my phone. This is what the whole hostel looks like, it's a bit cave like. Steep stairs wind up and down it, and it is quite randomly constructed, lost of narrow passageways.

From the Muslim quarter.

A China shop in the Christian quarter.

The spices are quite something, and the abundance of them is pretty awesome.

Check them all out!

Another take of this shot I took. I'm not sure if this one is more effective? I guess you have to know this is in the Muslim quarter, and look for the hijabs. I found it such and interesting... combination.

Are these the bagels you were raving about Lindsay?

I've been experimenting with panning as its such a cool technique if pulled off well. This one almost worked, now I just need a more interesting subject. These guys started yelling at me in Hebrew when I took this shot, they had big smiles on their faces though. It's so hard to guess what people are saying in Hebrew, they always sound like their arguing because conversations are so intense, but I have no idea.

Alright, time to pack up and head on another adventure. There goes the church bells to mark 7:30, how timely. Wish me luck!

I made it

I had been informed that it was a 15 min walk from the Jerusalem bus station to the old city. I remember it being a long walk last time, but I’d figured I’d do it again anyway to save paying for a cab. An hour later, sweaty and exhausted from carrying all my bags, I arrived after being quite lost.

I love Jerusalem, time moves so much more slowly, and at the right times it’s very quiet and peaceful. My hostel is on a secluded back alley, and is quite the building. It’s a big like a network of caves inside. The best part is definitely the view from the roof, where I’m sleeping tonight, and where I’m typing this from.

Last night I met a German girl while taking photos from the roof. Turned out she had just started her career as a doctor. It was fun talking to her, and navigating the night alleys in search of food.

View from the hostel rooftop

I'm sleeping with this view tonight

The sun went down and the lights came out

A glowing bell tower

...

This morning, after my first full nights sleep in a long time, I had a slow start. Finally when my body began to crave some breakfast, I wandered off in search of some. I was feeling so inspired by the bliss of my breakfast that I wrote: Oh man, freshly squeezed orange juice is definitely the way to start the day. I’m lounging on a leather couch, in front of a low coffee table in a courtyard restaurant just outside the old city. A huge umbrella provides a thankful respite from the sun, and the orange juice sooths.

That’s about the speed the rest of my day took; it was very relaxing. I did the ramparts walk, thinking it would be fabulous. It was pretty cool, but a little tiring and frustrating just because it was a challenge to capture the vistas I was seeing, and I was walking through the lense, switching on and off my polarizing filter. Towards the end I sat down by a mosque and listened to the call to prayer as it echoed throughout the city. Pretty cool. Upon exiting the ramparts I found myself in the Muslim quarter. I’d never really spent much time there, and I loved it. It’s much less touristy and much more authentic feeling. The shops and stalls are selling practical things such as clothes and food instead of trinkets and souvenirs. I took my time, wandering on a small stretch of street that I found particularly vibrant, snapping photos, fighting to make the technical and artistic composition that I was hoping for. My photography is definitely still in the very technical stage, and I have yet to really find my voice. I find photographing people to be often so much rewarding that buildings and landscapes. There is something about capturing life.

Juxtaposition? Perhpaps not. This is in the heart of the Muslim quarter. I stood around for a while waiting to get this shot, unfortunately the contrast in lighting prevented me in getting what I wanted.

I took this towards the end of my ramparts stroll.

Treats in the Muslim quarter

I stopped here to write and have a glass of grapefruit juice, and do some people gazing.

I love this shot. This is in the Christian quarter closer to Jaffa gate in the more touristy section. This man is selling t-shirts that say things such as "Guns & Moses" or "Don't worry, be Jewish".

After a while I came to a security checkpoint, and after asking realized I’d made my way to the western wall. I haven’t really been making an effort to see everything this time, as I saw most of it last time, so I’ve just been going wherever I find myself. Anyway, I wandered down to the western wall and then back up the road along the ramparts on the other side of the city. After buying some humus and pita, I sat down with a stunning view before me and had my dinner. It was a fantastic day. I love it when you can just move slowly and take the time to let everything soak in.

The western wall. As I wandered closer, I realized I was the only person without my head covered. I guess there's another section of the wall for tourist, that explains why a rabbi asked if my mother was Jewish as I walked in. This guy picked the perfect moment to walk into the frame.

Me enjoying my dinner, and a fantastic view.

Humus and amazing views, can you think of a better combination?

When I was exporting photos (I have to export everything from RAW files and compress it before I upload them) and I seem to have missed all the ones of the view from where I was sitting, except this one.

An ancient jungle of lives, history and religions. I believe this is the Muslim quarter.

Well, that’s enough for now I suppose. I’ll head back up to the roof, away from the internet and towards the cool Jerusalem air, and stare out at the illuminated dome of the rock and across this international city. Not sure what I’m going to do tomorrow yet. I’d like to go to the Dead Sea and Masada, but I haven’t decided how I’m going to do that yet. My options are rent a car, take a tour, or take the bus. I was thinking of staying in the hostel at the base of Masada, so I could get up and hike to the top for the sunset which is supposed to be so amazing. We’ll see how motivated I am to pull that off. I guess I’ll decide in the morning. Comment if you have any suggestions Bye for now. Hope you enjoy my attempts at photography.

A cat on the roof of the hostel here in Jerusalem.

My favourite moment of yesterday was definitely going into the bathroom at the Tel Aviv bus station. I bet you’re dying to know why. It was one of the washrooms that you have to put a shekel into the machine in order to get through the revolving steel barred door. There was a soldier—a young girl, maybe 17—in the process of going through. When she saw me she beckoned and began speaking in Hebrew, evidently she wanted me to go through with her to so that I wouldn’t have to pay. Smiling I pushed my way in with my two packs and carrying bag, she also had a large pack on. As soon as we started rotating the door to get through, however, it locked up and wouldn’t let us through. I put a shekel in and we tried again, this time with me going first. We almost made it when it locked up again, this time we were both stuck, squished in the little spaced designed for one person with no way out. There was just enough room that I was able to push my bags through one by one, and then squeeze myself through (on the washroom side). Her pack had somehow gotten stuck behind the doors, half on her. It took a bit of effort to man handle it over the top, but in the end we made it through. Afterwards she helped me find the bus to Jerusalem, for which I was very grateful as the signs were all in Hebrew.

Another cat in the Old City.

My plane arrived around 1:00 am. By the time I got through customs, caught a train into Tel Aviv and then a taxi to my hostel, it was around 3:00 am. I breathed deeply, soaking in the warm Mediterranean air. Knowing that I would be unable to sleep right away, I wandered towards the beach after checking in. I stopped into a few 24 hour shops in search of hummus, but ended up getting my first swarma of the trip. Hungrily biting down I wandered across the road and sat watching the tractors rake the carefully manicured beaches. Tel Aviv really does never sleep, even though things are a little quieter at that hour, the city is still alive. I crawled into my upper bunk bed around 3:50, fumbling to orient myself in the dark and trying to disturb the other 3 half naked people in the room. It was warm, and I slept on top of my covers.

For some reason I really didn’t want to stay another day in Tel Aviv. I’m not sure exactly why, I found that this was one of the better hostels last time, but I just really have no desire this time around to spend any more time here. I guess it’s the party vibe that just isn’t getting me right now. Anyway, I only booked my room for the one night meaning I have to check out by 10:30 am. Stressed that I would be left in the morning rushing to get myself together and leave, I wasn’t able to fully enjoy my rest. After waking up I wandered out of my room in my boxers to go to the bathroom, then over to a couple tiredly spooning on the stairs to ask what time it was. 5:45, they laughed a little as I walked away. I had a shower, and am now here writing this.

I think last time I was here I told myself I wasn’t going to travel alone again, I’m not sure what why I’m here doing it again. Starting to wish I had just come for my pilgrimage, the real reason I’m here and not so much earlier. I guess this way I’ll be looking forward to it much more. I don’t really have any plans, beyond get out of Tel Aviv today and find somewhere I can rest. I think I’ll head for Jerusalem, although I’m not sure why as I remember not enjoying the hostels there anywhere near as much, I think it’s the atmosphere of the old city I’m craving. Come to think of it, odd as it may sound I think it’s the secular vibe of Tel Aviv that is really just making me feel uncomfortable, I think I’m longing for a more spiritual or historic atmosphere. Maybe I’ll find the motivation, no, inspiration to pull out my camera gear and make use of it all. I hope I make it to tonight, I’ve slept very little in the last 48 hours, amazing what the human body is capable of. I felt so good after that shower I thought I was going to be fine, I’m now realizing how exhausted I am. I guess I’d better finish this off then find my way to Jerusalem so I can crash early, wish me luck.

Conversations, connections, diversity.

What a beautiful world we live in. How many hours am I in now? 9 hours since I set out this morning, I guess this trip is underway.

My over packed bags

My hand fumbles clumsily as it pens its way across the page; it’s been awhile. Is my voice still here? I hope so, last time I was in Israel I skimped on the writing, having being burned out after 7 months of it in Ethiopia. I promised then to try harder next time, so here we go. I’ll see if I can find my voice in order to share with you the experience this time. The words will flow no problem I presume for the next 6 days, but when I arrive in Haifa, well it’s a daunting thought to try and put the experience into words, because it can’t be. I’ll do my best to scratch what surface I can with words. This time even more than last, I hope to share the experience through photography. So here’s me, humbly striving at the art of writing and photography hoping to bring you a glimpse of the Holy Land.

Connections are what makes travelling enjoyable, when you can make them that is. I think this may be something that I experience more when travelling alone—it comes more natural to connect with other lone travellers. Although, I think I might just be making this all up. Regardless, connections are what make a bland and lonely trip rich and exciting. There’s nothing worse than spending a whole trip wishing you had someone to share it with, maybe that’s where I find the motivation to write and photograph. I sat down beside a girl my age in the Vancouver airport, and soon discovered that she was bound for Tanzania to volunteer for 5 weeks. Naturally, we had lots to talk about and share. It made for a very enriching conversation.

I love travelling, seeing so many different cultures and such diversity, observing, interacting, and experiencing. We live in such a rich world, humanly rich; there is so much heart at the soul of our crumbling society.

A picture I accidentally took of myself.

I certainly feel like I’ve matured a lot in the last 2 years since I was last on a trip of this… scale. I feel much more calm and ready to go with the flow than I think I did before, much less confused and worried about what is going on. Pretty impressive seeing that I still have no plans or a place to stay upon my arrival in Tel Aviv, we’ll have to wait and see how this holds out.

I think I’m experiencing Canada in its vastness for the first time. I’ve never traversed the country in the daytime before, chasing the sun as it attempts to hide. The sinking light is revealing Canada’s north for what the rest of the world probably thinks of all Canada—a frozen hostile wasteland. What I am assuming is Tundra stretches out to what seems like infinity. I see snow dunes, ice, drifting banks, all sprawling with an orange orb that glows ceaselessly upon it all, never letting it experience to absence that is dark. Why is my window the only one open on the plane? I look to the right and see a bright golden hue cast down my isle onto the other 8 people to my right, I guess I’d better shut it out so we can close ourselves into the darkness of this tube.

The sun wait

Air travel is so fascinating, so many people from so many diverse backgrounds stuffed into an aluminium tube together, sharing a common experience. And as if the body heat generated from that wasn’t enough, KLM decided to leave the heaters on as well. Thanks for a sweltering flight.

I walk unhurriedly through the Amsterdam airport taking it all in. Airports are interesting places. From my limited experience they all seem to be, or feel like numbed down isolated bubbles within a culture. The culture of origin is faintly present, but an overall western materialism seems to have taken precedence. Of course there are differences—the construction of bathroom stalls and the connection between male and female washrooms, or the explicit content showcased on magazine covers.

France, Paris. Everyone speaks French… It’s a little uncanny at first, my experience with foreign language for the most part is in Ethiopia where it was obvious based on my skin colour that I didn’t speak the language, and hence people would do there best at English. (We are so arrogant as English speakers, or maybe it’s just me). I’m not quite quick enough to retort in French when I’m hit with a spew of rapid fire. I just smile and nod, sure I’ll have some of those, yes I’ll get out of your way. I must say I think we have the best flight attendants in Canada.

I’ve decided from my passing through Amsterdam and Paris that Europe is too expensive for me to ever travel through, everything is the same price, but in Euros!

          Here’s a few of my favourite shots from my time in Ethiopia!

Radio voice really isn’t all that different from writer’s voice. It revolves around the same basic ideas. In the same way that a writer must develop their own style and voice based on who they are, a radio journalist/host must also do the same. I actually found an eHow article about How to Develop a Good Radio Voice. One of the tips of things not to do was: “Don’t be Howard Stern. Imitators are a dime a dozen, and without his fame and reputation, you’re more than likely to come off like a jerk. Develop your own voice and leave Howard to his.” I think that this is very telling—each person has a unique voice and that is what makes radio interesting to listen to. The more effective the voice of the speaker, the more we are drawn in and the more engaged we become.

One of my favourite radio hosts is Jian Ghomeshi, because of his voice. His voice is conversational and natural, that it makes listening to his interviews a real pleasure because there is a genuine two-way conversation going on. Often with radio interviews the interviewer simply asks question after question, and this just isn’t anywhere near as enjoyable to listen to; it is hard to get into. With Jian, however, he engages the person he is speaking with and responds to what they have to say, making it much more interesting and engaging for the listeners. You don’t get the sense at all that what he says is scripted, and in fact he regularly stumbles over his words and speaks very quickly—this is all part of his voice. More importantly, however, is his personality.   His personality is what creates his voice; it is very distinctive, unique and easily recognizable over the radio. By allowing his personality to come through and become his voice, he allows the audience to connect with him on a much deeper level hence engaging them.

I often find it a very interesting experience when, after listening for a long time to a certain radio host on CBC, I see a picture or video of them. I am often surprised, because just from listening to their voice I have created an image of them in my mind–just like one does when reading about a character in a book–so when I see them they never look as I expected. This shows that voice over the radio works very much in the same way as writers voice, it connects with the listener in different ways and stimulated the imagination.

Works Cited

“Sir Ken Robinson on Q TV.” YouTube. Q TV, 6 Oct. 2009. Web. 28 Nov. 2011.

Heleva, Pete. “How to Develop a Good Radio Voice.” eHow. eHow, n.d. Web. 28 Nov. 2011.

Gathering material to create voice with.

While I have always been able to make my voice come through in my writing, I have yet to make the same break through in the medium of film. My interest in the technical aspects of the art have always been ahead of my story telling capacities, and hence my voice. I’ve just finished working on the below film, and it has been an incredibly rewarding experience. To me voice in film is the style, and the way in which the filmmaker takes you on a journey, telling you a story. I struggled in the making of this film with making a strong voice come through come through that would guide the viewer through it, and I must say I am not entirely satisfied with the result, but I did learn a huge amount.

Creating voice, can you see it forming? This is where filmmakers voices emerge.

One of the things that I was really excited and interested to find was the reaction from my friends through social media when I released the film. I quickly had a great deal of interest and praise, which I had been a little apprehensive about. I think a big part of it was many of the people seeing it also had connections with a large number of the people in the film. Voice is all about connection between the artist or author and the audience. If the audience connects on a certain level because of the familiarity with the subjects, then that is part of the voice of the piece.

Is the voice taking you on a journey?

I assert again here that voice is the message, so if the voice is not clear and powerful—the effect of the content is diminished. I am not sure how powerful the voice of my film is, but my assessment would be mediocre, it could be much more powerful (I am very satisfied with the results, however, all factors considered).

Works Cited

“Guilty of Innocence – Persecution in Iran.” YouTube. CaptainGalen, 26 Nov. 2011. Web. 27 Nov. 2011.

The Economist magazine continues to increase its readership in a post print world.

In a first year International Studies class at Simon Fraser, I will always remember the prof presenting The Economist’s “Big Mac Index”. I think it stood out so much for me because I had just come back from living in Ethiopia, and was able to directly relate it to my experiences and observations there. Often in that course, and in other courses I found the professors and TA’s often quoting The Economist. So, it probably doesn’t come as a surprise that when I began looking for new sources of international news earlier this year, The Economist stood out for me. Why was I attracted to it? Because it is intellectual, it focuses on the issues of the world and not the gossip about celebrities that seems to pervade so many other magazines. It likely has the largest number of foreign correspondents in the news industry and hence a very broad picture of international affairs. It is also respectable, and regularly quoted by academics. So, I figured that if I wanted to broaden my understanding of the state of the world, then The Economist should be my first stop; it had a voice that spoke to my interests.

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In a post print world, “[w]hile American magazines, particularly newsweeklies, combat crashing circulations, bleak advertising sales and major financial losses, The Economist, which is not even American in origin, is the only newsweekly with a rising circulation in the United States” (Gottipati). Why? In a world where the news is all around us for free, why is the high priced print circulation of The Economist rising? Clearly there a number of reasons for this, but in the interest of my exploration of voice I will focus on the voice of The Economist and the effect that that is having in it’s rising sales.

First of all, for those unfamiliar with the magazine/newspaper, the name “The Economist” may be misleading. Although it certainly does focus on financial and economic news, a huge portion of the magazine, possibly the majority, focus’ on domestic politics and international relations/geopolitics. As Sruthi Gottipati states in his article How Does The Economist Do It, if we were to personify the magazine “she would be a jet-setting foreign correspondent with a nose for political news. She’d be cerebral, but witty. And she’d have a global sensibility, feeling equally comfortable in Buenos Aires, Beijing and Bangalore.” And there we have the newspaper’s first aspect of voice—it’s global perspective (a voice that speaks clearly to people like me).

What is unique about The Economist’s voice is not only its global perspective and increasing foreign correspondents, but also the way in which it presents the voices of its individual journalists. But that’s just it; it doesn’t present the voices of its individual journalists. There are no by-lines to accompany each article and allow the reader to identify the journalist. As a result the publication assumes a kind of omniscient role over its voice; it becomes the voice of an institution that speaks to us instead of the voice of individuals. This allows the magazine to become an opinion-based publication as a whole—appearing unified in its vision to the readers.

Dave Beal tells us that: “The Economist was founded in 1843 as a foe of England’s Corn Laws, tariffs on cheap food imported from abroad. Ever since, staunch support of free trade has been one of the magazine’s central tenets.” From this perspective, one can see that the nature of The Economist is almost that of lobbying for their views, very much in the same way that Canadian foreign diplomats often speak of projecting Canadian values and ideals abroad. The Economist is simply a business that is sharing their own views on the issues at hand.

On The Economist’s website, they describe themselves as offering “authoritative insight and opinion on international news, politics, business, finance, science and technology” the key word here being “opinion”. I know for myself, that this voice is attractive because it provides me with both a view of the state of the world, as well as an analytical viewpoint that I can choose to agree or disagree with. The opinions are obvious enough that for the most part I feel I am able to separate them from the facts. At the same time, however, I do not necessarily appreciate the omission of by-lines.

Another attraction to the publication is often referred to as the “snob appeal”. As Gottipati states: “Its price, its tone calculated to flatter its readers, its claim to cover the world, its overall intelligence — its English accent, as it were — all these things contribute to its special appeal.” The magazine certainly assumes a certain level of intelligence and basic understandings of politics and economics. This level of intelligent analysis and in depth global coverage is certainly something that must appeal to its readership, otherwise they wouldn’t be reading it. So the voice in this case is an intelligent educated one, speaking in the jargon of the educated to the educated. The result of this is that the readers are able to connect with the voice of the magazine because it is being written specifically for them, and shares similar understandings.

So, what is The Economist’s voice? It is intelligent, opinionated, and global. This makes it a very interesting read for a certain demographic of people that connect with this very specific voice. I would argue that it is because of its uniqueness of presentation that people are attracted to it. I believe that people also are attracted to the intelligent analysis, which is often lacking in so many other news sources. Not only are people attracted to the opinion, but also to the way that it is presented as opinion, and not as fact like many other news networks. When The Economist presents their opinion they generally make it evident that they are doing so by saying things such as: ‘The Economist has always argued that…’ etc.

Voice is the message. If it were not for The Economist’s intelligent, opinionated and global voice, I would argue that they would not have the same readership. Voice—the way in which the present the content—is what draws people in. Perhaps it makes more sense to say that voice is the medium and content the message. Regardless, The Economist serves as an excellent example of the importance of and impact that voice has.

It will be interesting to see how long the Economist’s print regime holds up in this post print world. I know that I for one cherish my astronomically priced subscription.

Works Cited

The Economist Newspaper Limited. The Economist Online. TE, 2011. Web. 27 Nov. 2011.

Gottipati, Sruthi. “How Does The Economist Do It?” The New York Review of Magazines. NYRM, 12 May 2011. Web. 27 Nov. 2011.

Beal, Dave. “Economist editor Micklethwait brings his global perspective to the Twin Cites.” MinnPost.com. N.p. 29 April 2011. Web. 27 Nov. 2011.

First, thank you to everyone who took the time to read and comment on my last post! I really appreciate it.

Reflecting on the comments that were left about my voice in the piece from my last post, it really becomes clear for me that voice is the message. I have taken a relatively ordinary experience, and through use of my voice, my style, and who I am, the experience can come through the written word and come to life for someone else, allowing them to experience what I am feeling. Without an effective voice, those details would be pointless and difficult to read. Voice gives them life, and hence voice is the message because without it the details would be meaningless.

Zelalem's birthday cake (Ethiopia March 2010)

Today I am looking back, admittedly quite fondly, at my my own voice in a piece I wrote over a year ago while in Ethiopia. The problem with looking back at my own voice is that for me it brings back a rich torrent of memories, which makes my observations decidedly biased. I don’t know how it may come across for others; I don’t know what my voice may say to others. Thus, I am asking for peoples honest comments and thoughts about my writer’s voice in the below piece. For those of you just tuning in this is a part of my exploration of voice. To set this question up, I re-cite the following quote by Laura Beckles in her description of writer’s voice:

“One of your most powerful tools as a writer is not your vocabulary, your mastery of grammar or even your fancy computer — it’s your voice. Your unique blend of description, character and style allows you to talk to the reader through the printed word. Without a voice, a manuscript may have an exciting plot, interesting characters and a surprise ending, but it might not get published. The voice is what beckons the reader to curl up with a book and whispers, “Pay attention. I’m going to tell you a story.”” 

How does or doesn’t my voice do that? Please leave your comments!

March 11th 2010

I come out of the café and look for a moment into the darkness. The torrential sound of rain reaches my ears again. I can see a river of muddy water rushing down the road, faintly illuminated in by the café lights. After hesitating for a moment I push my book inside my jacket and push out into the rain.

Most people are waiting it out inside, but the thought of a half finished bar of dark chocolate waiting at home propels me on. It has been a challenging first day of the fast, and for the first time since 4:45 this morning I finally have food in my stomach.

I walk quickly, but it is dark, and the road is a topped with fast moving water. I make feeble attempts at first to avoid plunging my feet into the water and mud, but it is hopeless. My dress shoes soon disappear beneath the murky river. The road is rough, full of potholes, large rocks, rubble and garbage. I know that somewhere in the darkness there are holes that plunge 6 feet down that will be entirely full of water now. I hope my luck continues to hold in avoiding them.

The smell of raw sewage mingled with the wet smell of fresh rain meets my nostrils. The stiffness of my book bumps against my ribs underneath my jacket. It is a long way gone, memoirs of a boy soldier by Ismail Beah. I have been reading it for a good portion of the day. It is an amazing story, although heartbreaking at every moment. I’ve tried to relate to it by imagining one of my grade 4 students carrying an AK-47, firing RPG’s, and slitting men’s throats. However it is just so far out of my world, that I can’t even imagine it.

I thought it would rain, but I still decided not to wear my raincoat. Water is now streaming down my face and my jacket and jeans are quickly becoming soaked. I have only been walking for 3 minutes tops. Jasmin and Kyle went to the Sheratan for all you can eat Sushi. I was tempted to go with them, but $30 is far from my budget, not matter how good the meal is. Instead I enjoyed a large bowl of rice and vegetables, with a glass of blended mango, papaya, and pineapple. It cost me a total of $2.24. My socks are wet.

As I walk down the balcony to my apartment, I am now completely soaked. Lightening flashes to my left, and thunder roles in the distance. Jerking the door and turning my key at the same time the bolt slides open and I push in the door. I pull off my wet clothes and put some water on to boil. I didn’t do much today, but it was a good day. I ironed and hung all of my dress shirts, and by 2:00 my stomach was twisting with hunger. After that I sat down and read, distracting myself. Today was the national holiday of the Victory of Adwa, the day on which the Ethiopian’s defeated the Italians during the first Ethio-Italian war. I drove through Adwa. It is all mountains.

Adding powdered ginger and cinnamon to a mug I pour in water and add a large spoonful of thick honey. Day 1 on the Baha’i fast from food and water between sunrise and sunset, 18 to go. I have become so used to constantly snacking and consuming a perpetual stream of water that it is almost more habitual than need. You never really notice how much of your day you spend eating, until you don’t. The hot, sweet, and spicy liquid pours down my throat. It is delicious and soothing.

Works Cited

Backes, Laura. “Finding Your Voice.” Write4Kids. Write4Kids, n.d. Web. 11 Nov. 2011.

Humber, Galen. “The Fast Begins.” UnitingForChange. Galen Humber, 2 May, 2010. Web. 19 Nov. 2011.

As I begin to explore beyond my own thoughts, and into the realm of what other people have to say about voice, I find interesting results. I began by simply searching the term ‘voice’ in several search engines/databases: google, google scholar, the VIU online databases, and SFU’s databases. I quickly came up with close to 2 million results, clearly my search term was too broad. I was then faced with a conundrum, what is the technical term for the type of voice I am exploring? Or, is there one? So far, I have come to believe that I am re-defining the term to some extent. So far ‘Writer’s voice’ is what best represents my exploration. I am hoping to transcend this boundary by expanding the concept of writer’s voice beyond written word in order to apply it to other mediums. I believe that there is a real correlation between the concept of writer’s voice, and the voice other media.

Here are some quotes that define writer’s voice in just the way that I see it:

“One of your most powerful tools as a writer is not your vocabulary, your mastery of grammar or even your fancy computer — it’s your voice. Your unique blend of description, character and style allows you to talk to the reader through the printed word. Without a voice, a manuscript may have an exciting plot, interesting characters and a surprise ending, but it might not get published. The voice is what beckons the reader to curl up with a book and whispers, “Pay attention. I’m going to tell you a story.”" (Backes)

I love this explanation by Patrica A. Jones:

“This volatile voice is deep inside of me. This character who jumps up and down on my eardrums is a force to be dealt with and only I can hear him. Only I can unlock his cage and release him upon the world. 

The Writer’s Voice changes with each character, yet the underlying tone, the way the words flow out on the paper, the color and sound of words used, the variation of sentence length, all belong to the Writer. The voice is unique. The voice isn’t necessarily fancy or “writerly,” but we know that fancy is never as good as clarity and immediacy….

At last, we realize our Writer’s Voice is within our own heart and mind. It is who we are, what we have experienced, whom we have met on our journey through life. All the living we’ve done comes into play and we knit these collective experiences into something wonderful called the Writer’s Voice. Once we learn to listen to the voices, we come into our own as writers. With certainty we know that we, too, have a voice and we are ready to speak.”

Works Cited

Backes, Laura. “Finding Your Voice.” Write4Kids. Write4Kids, n.d. Web. 11 Nov. 2011.

A. Jones, Patricia. “Do You Hear What I Hear?” Business Know-How. Patricia A. Jones, 1998. Web. 11 Nov. 2011.

The voice of George Orwell in his novel Down and Out in Paris and London is one that fascinates me. Although he is telling it from a first person perspective, and talking about his own life, it still manages to adopt an almost objective voice and perspective. This is very interesting, because the content of the book definitely is not objective, being the first person account of a period of his life. It is by only narrating the details of what happened, and focusing much more on the experience and what was happening to him then on his own feelings. When he does refer to how he felt, he for the most part refers only to the way he felt at the time and does adds very little additional commentary. The result is a very descriptive voice on his part, which the reader comes to trust as bringing and honest account of the events being described.

In this novel he describes an episode of his life as a writer in which he essentially lived in absolute poverty in Paris and then later London. He provides incredibly detailed descriptions, and paints a very vivid image of life down and out. His voice is very simple and clean, easy to follow. At the same time, describing or pinpointing what exactly makes it so effective is proving incredibly illusive to me.

Here is a short excerpt in which he describes life working in a Parisian restaurant to show his voice.

It was amusing to look round the filthy little scullery and think that only a double door was between us and the dining-room. There sat the customers in all their splendour—spotless table-cloths, bowls of flowers, mirrors and gilt cornices and painted cherubim; and here, just a few feet away, we in our disgusting filth. For it really was disgusting filth. There was not time to sweep the floor till evening, and we slithered about in a compound of soapy water, lettuce-leaves, torn paper and trampled food. A dozen waiters with their coats off, showing their sweaty armpits, sat at the table mixing salads and sticking their thumbs into the cream pots. The room had a dirty mixed smell of food and sweat. Everywhere in the cupboards, behind the piles of crockery, were squalid stores of food that the waiters had stolen. There were only two sinks, and no washing basin, and it was nothing unusual for a waiter to wash his face in the water in which clean crockery was rinsing. But the customers saw nothing of this. There were a coco-nut mat and a mirror outside the dining-room door, and the waiters used to preen themselves up and go in looking the picture of cleanliness.

It is an instructive sight to see a waiter going into a hotel dining-room. As he passes the door a sudden change comes over him. The set of his shoulders alters; all the dirt and hurry and irritation have dropped off in an instant. He glides over the carpet, with a solemn priest like air. I remember our assistant maître d’hôtel, a fiery Italian, pausing at the dining-room door to address and apprentice who had broken a bottle of wine. Shaking his fist above his head he yelled (luckily the door was more or less soundproof): ‘Tu me fais chier. Do you call yourself a waiter, you young bastard? You a waiter! You’re not fit to scrub floors in the brothel your mother came from. Maquereau!’

Words failing him, he turned to the door; and as he opened it he farted loudly, a favourite Italian insult.

Then he entered the dining-room and sailed across it dish in hand, graceful as a swan. Ten seconds later he was bowing reverently to a customer. And you could not help thinking, as you saw him bow and smile, with that benign smile of the trained waiter, that the customer was put to shame by having such an aristocrat to serve him.

Something about the quality of his description almost gives me a feeling of objectivity, although it certainly isn’t. Perhaps this is achieved through injecting a sense of honesty into the voice, causing a sense of trust to develop in the reader. The result, making one feel like the events have been objectively narrated to some extent. His thoughts are simply observations, for the most part descriptive, and a lesser part analytical. The balance between these two draws the reader in. His descriptive imagery feels objective, and allows the reader to see what he is experiencing. His more sparse analytical comments compliment the description, and since the reader has the description seemingly objectively, they can then relate to his analytical conclusions—they can see how he arrived at them. Keeping the description and analysis clearly separate also seems to make the reader more trusting, by giving them the sense that they are able to differentiate between the two and see objectively, drawing their own conclusions. It gives the reader a sense of power; they do not feel like the speaker is forcing the analysis down their throats.

I think the beauty of Orwell’s voice lies in its simplicity. It feels natural, and flows without interruption. It is easy to follow, accessible, and full of descriptive imagery. It also feels honest and down to earth, which I think is a component that really draws people in.

This video is another example of a similar voice, yet through a different medium. The speaker is very clear, the message simple, and above all it is honest and coming from his heart. This sense of honest and open display of emotion creates an incredibly powerful voice that allows the viewer to really connect and share some of the emotion.

From this exploration I am beginning to come to the conclusion that simplistic, open, and honest description is one of the most powerful forms of voice.

Works Cited

Orwell, George. Down and Out in Paris and London. London: Penguin Books, 1989. Print.

“WikiLeaks’ Collateral Murder: U.S. Soldier Ethan McCord.” YouTube. YouTube, 10 Aug. 2010. Web. 7 Nov. 2011.