In preparation, I’m packing a bag for my escape to Australia’s Snowy Mountains. For while many regard New Year’s Eve as a time for noise-makers, fireworks, and drunken revelry, I prefer to use the time to take stock of the year past and to sketch out tentative plans for the year coming.
This time last year we were barely into our current home, surrounded by boxes and chaos. In the intervening twelve months, we’ve managed to carve out some order and to adjust to a different kind of lifestyle in a vastly different environment. But we have also been “on the road” and away from our house for at least half that time.
One of the things that becomes more noticeable when you travel is how very different people’s live are. Not just the obvious: food and housing and clothing; but the deeper fundamentals. Values and beliefs: what it means to be a “good” person; people’s hopes and dreams for themselves, and more importantly, for their children.
I was reminded of these differences everywhere we went this past year: England, Ireland, and Wales; Western Canada and across the US; country and coastal Australia; and most obviously, Thailand and Myanmar. As the Thais say, people everywhere are: “same, same… but different!”
Novice in an Alcove
The young burmese novice in this series of photos is a perfect example. He lives, studies, works, and sleeps in Shwe Yan Pyay Monastery in Myanmar’s Shan State, where his life is well-ordered but rather austere. Entering the monastery is likely to have been his family’s decision, rather than his own, and the decision was probably based on pragmatic as well as spiritual considerations: this is a poor area, and boys in monasteries such as this get their food, clothing, and education provided. I don’t know what his personal hopes and dreams are, but he won’t have been expecting a lot of fancy gifts from Santa this past week.
In one of the outer pagodas, filled with individual Buddhas in niches – all bearing the names of their benefactors – the young novice sat in absolute stillness for half an hour, surrounded by candles in the tropical heat, while ten travellers with assorted cameras snapped pictures of him from all angles. Outwardly, he did not question this odd request from the foreign visitors. His Abbot had told him to go sit – so he sat.
Novice Monk in Prayer
Clearly, these are not “found” images; the scene was set by our photographic-tour leader, Karl Grobl and our local guide MM while we were visiting Myanmar last September.
Shwe Yan Pyay Monastery in Nyaung Shwae is housed in a beautiful 150-year-old teak building, which I will return to in some future “Wanders” PhotoBlog post. We visited the monastery twice: once in the mid-morning for lunch, and on this evening occasion to photograph the young novice in the small window of opportunity between the fall of darkness and evening prayers.
Novice in Candlelight
While these images may not tell us much about this young novice’s actual life, to me they convey the kind of quiet, meditative contemplation that I associate with the New Year period.
So, I wish you and yours a happy and peaceful new year, and the quiet time to reflect on what is important.
I love the images. Another year of very good weekly wanders completed.
Always thought provoking.ReplyCancel
Karl Grobl -December 27, 2012 - 6:46 am
Ursula, what a wonderful post for the approaching new year. You’ve given us amazing images and an important message to ponder. Thanks for sharing, and I wish you the best in the coming year. Cheers, KarlReplyCancel
Thanks so much, Lisa. One day you and I have to talk about processing: your colours from the same location are SO different!!
Have a great 2013. 🙂ReplyCancel
Great images Ursula,
I particularly like the “Novice in an alcove” (as captioned) shot. I know some people love “inspirational” messages/text added to such images, but to me they work best without. Just a personal preference! 🙂
Best wishes for the New Year.ReplyCancel
lovely as always and may your 2013 be everything you both hope for. Thanks for the travels this year…looking forward to what 2013 holds in store.ReplyCancel
I wouldn’t feel too guilty abt getting the little boy to sit still for an hour for your photos – every day we ask children to sit still for hours on end in the name of teaching them spelling and arithmetic 🙂ReplyCancel
Very true, Philip! But I know MY children wouldn’t have sat so still. Thanks for your visit! 🙂ReplyCancel
Denise Johnson -April 13, 2014 - 1:39 am
Thanks for sharing these images. Seven years ago I had a death experience that looked so much like this photo. Seeing it almost made me faint. I am inspired to visit this monastery before I die, now. Please kindly send the boy a percentage of the sales of the cards. The monastery as well as his family could use the support and his practice is now making you money. I wouldn’t want you to receive negative karmic ramifications. Thank you.ReplyCancel
[…] Candles in the Alcove Once the novices have eaten, we are able to persuade one to pose for us in the alcove. (I posted a selection of these photos as “Light the Way” some time ago.) […]ReplyCancel
“Suffer the Children” Detail from one of the magnificent Harry Clarke stained glass windows, DIseart, DIngle, Ireland
It’s a funny day today: the blustery winds keep changing directions as I watch the swans and pelicans on the estuary across the road from where I live.
I had a fleeting moment, at some point during this year, of thinking that I might be blogging or posting a status update as the world was ending: a bizarre conceit, really – after all, if everything stops, I’m sure the electricity and internet will be the first to go! And, who would possibly be reading? But, it is perhaps symptomatic of this “connected” world we are now in, that this silly thought even crossed my mind.
As I write this, the press is still full of reaction to the recent horror-killing in the USA, half a world away: that of 20+ children and 6 adults at a Connecticut school. A tragic occurrence by any standards. But, we live in a world where, on average, 19000 children under five die every day: from disease, war, and insufficient nutrition. Those headlines are less dramatic.
Six months ago, I was in the western-most reaches of Ireland, where the rocks and the ruins seem well removed from the woes of the 21st century. Truly, as my husband and I walked around the flank of Mount Eagle, with nothing standing between us and North America except the wild Atlantic Ocean, I felt as if we were in another world.
But this rugged landscape is steeped in its own tragic history of oppression and starvation, and located in a country currently struggling through crippling unemployment.
Before leaving Dingle, we stopped in at Dingle’s well advertised “Hidden Treasure”: the Díseart Institute of Irish Spirituality and Culture: a former convent, housing an information centre and some absolutely fabulous religious art.
“The Last Supper” Detail from the Fresco painted by American mural artist Eleanor Yates. The Apostles are all modelled on local men, and all the items and foodstuffs on the table are from local crafts and produce. You can see Dingle Bay through the “windows”.
Honora “Nano” Nagle (1718-1784) Another room houses a mural depicting Nano Nagle in Paris, before her decision to live her life by Christ’s example. Later, back in Ireland, she founded the Presentation Sisters and, in spite of the risks, established several schools for the poor.
Created in 1922, the richly detailed Harry Clarke windows depict six scenes from the life of Christ.
The Harry Clarke stained glass windows are just beautiful, but there came a point at which we had to brave the rains and start walking the 20 kilometres between us and our next lodgings.
Leaving Dingle – down a wet road and into the mists…
Beautifully fragrant wild honeysuckle (Woodbine: Lonicera periclymenum) lines the roadways we followed. I was told these plants epitomise the Irish: flexible, resilient, and deceptively strong.
“Turn left at the fence.” Ivy grows on wooden fence rails, next to galvanised gate posts.
Once off the roads, we are surrounded by honeysuckle, blackberry and fuchsia. Although not native to Ireland, fuchsia were planted as hedges by farmers and are now ubiquitous all over the southwest.
The fuchsia are much happier about the rain than we are.
White-flowers on a wet and windy Ventry Beach.
Following our guide notes, we walked the three kilometres along Ventry Beach…
… crossing streams along the way.
Clumps of grass growing in sand: Ventry Beach.
A modern house sits among the stone cottages and ruins.
Like a scene from another time: The hill is dotted with thatched stone cottages, stone and wooden fences, and beasts of burden.
Looking back towards Ventry and Dingle, we can see where we have walked.
We follow the old stone walls…
… up the hill.
We are watched by sheep…
… as we cross waterfalls.
Eventually, we spot our first clochans, or “Beehive Cells”, built by early Christian monks between 700 and 800 AD. The Blasket Islands are visible on the horizon.
These huts, like the early monasteries of Ireland, were occupied into the 12th Century. During this period, the Celtic Church was not under the direct rule of Rome, and so kept many of the early Pre-Christian influences.
Wet to the knees, we work our way through foxgloves and ferns.
The Beehive Cells are everywhere.
Under Brehon Laws in the 19th century, family plots were divided among the sons, until the farms became too small to be useful.
Stone walls still divide the countryside as we descend to the road and round the hill towards Dunquin.
The skies darken further. Daisies flank one side of the road ~
~ and the other side drops off steeply into the ocean.
Harry Clarke stained glass.
In spite of the recent hardships and poignant memories of famine, exodus, and “the Troubles”, there is a faith and resilience in Ireland that keeps the smiles, the hospitality, and the music flowing.
Christmas is just around the corner, so it is fitting to return to Harry Clarke’s windows.
Perhaps, if the world continues tomorrow, as most of us believe it will, we can fulfil the Mayan prophesy by making the world a different and better place – especially for the children.
Ursula, a nice series as usual. Thanks for your best wishes. I wish you and your family a very Happy Christmas and an wonderful 2013.
Greetings, Dietmut
Golden afternoon at Shwemawdaw Temple, Bago, Myanmar
Bago is a golden city, originally build during the Mon dynasty. Destroyed by the Burman in 1757 and partially restored in the early 19th century, the city lost prominence when the Bago River changed its course and cut the city off from the sea.
It must have really been something during its heyday, for even now, there is plenty to occupy tourists, Buddhist pilgrims and photographers. Travelling with Karl Grobl on a photography tour, I spend a mid-morning at a monastery and the middle of the day at the local market, before visiting Shwemawdaw and Shwethalyaung Temples in the early afternoon.
The Shwemawdaw Paya or Golden God Temple is a Mon temple originally built in the tenth century, but subsequently rebuilt several times – after major earthquakes. The current pagoda, at 375 feet, is the tallest in Myanmar; some 50 feet taller than Shwedagon.
The ornate entry to Shwemawdaw Temple, Bago, Myanmar.
Burmese or Mon script on a Shwemawdaw Temple bell.
Women heading for prayers, Shwemawdaw Temple, Bago.
Colours and Textures: Small shrine area in Shwemawdaw Temple, Bago, Myanmar
The luminous marble and gold paint typical of Burmese Buddhas.
Touching the Earth Shwemawdaw Buddha
Astrology and Palmistry Shwemawdaw Fortune Teller
Faithful and hopeful have prayers written on papers in exchange for “donations”.
Three more Shwemawdaw Buddhas.
Shwemawdaw Steps
Not far from the Shwemawdaw Temple, another temple complex houses a 55 metre- (180 ft) long reclining buddha. The Shwethalyaung Buddha was built by King Migadippa I in 994. After Bago was destroyed, the buddha was lost under regrown vegetation for over a hundred years. After it was rediscovered in 1881, the undergrowth was cleared, and in 1906 a tazaung (pavilion) was built over it to protect it from the elements.
Up the steps to the Shwethalyaung Buddha…
Indigent’s bedroll: Shwethalyaung Temple steps.
At the feet of the 55 metre Shwethalyaung reclining Buddha.
Gilded and Jewelled: At the feet of the Shwethalyaung Buddha.
Shwethalyaung Buddha Head
Buddha resting on jewelled chests; a jewelled deva watching over.
Toddler with Fortunes
Shwethalyaung Buddha Feet
A teak seller shows her wares.
Carved Burmese teak ornaments for sale.
Another Gift Seller
Myanmar’s ethnic groups in doll form.
Gift seller in the Shwethalyaung Courtyard.
A postcard seller sends us off on our way…
We left Shwethalyaung for the two hour drive back to Yangon –
Breathtaking natural beauty: hot spring water splashing over travertine terraces. Mound Spring at Mammoth Hot Springs, Yellowstone National Park.
It’s pretty hard to beat nature.
And Yellowstone National Park, that amazing natural space covering 8,987 square kilometres (3,472 square miles) of water, grasslands and forest in Western USA, serves up some of nature’s best.
From the iconic spout of Old Faithful to the less visited but equally intriguing Artist’s Paint Pots, Yellowstone’s geothermic features are second to none.
The natural travertine terraces at Mammoth Hot Springs, however, must be the-best-of-the-best.
For our brief visit to Yellowstone Park in August, we stayed at Gardiner, just outside the north entrance to the park. From there it was a short (albeit slow) drive through the Roosevelt Arch to the park’s many attractions.
The North Entrance to Yellowstone is through the rustic town of Gardiner and the Roosevelt Arch, dedicated by (and to) President Theodore Roosevelt in 1903.
Although Yellowstone was established by an act of US Congress in 1872 under President Ulysses S. Grant, the 50-foot tall basalt arch which marks the most important entry into the park was named for President Theodore Roosevelt, conservationist and dedicated Mason, who laid the cornerstone of the structure in 1903.
Once into the park, the landscape changes dramatically. We kept our eyes on the mountains, and were rewarded with sight of a band of Big Horn Sheep: ewes, lambs and yearling males; barely visible as they clambered effortlessly over the rocks. Unfortunately, the older males, with their distinctive, large eponymous horns, were nowhere to be seen.
Almost invisible against the rock face, female and young Big Horn Sheep (Ovis canadensis) on Mount Everts.
Outlined by light, a Big Horn lamb looks to see where mum has gone.
Mammoth Hot Springs are only eight kilometres (5 miles) into the park from the Roosevelt Arch. We circled the busy car park for a while before gaining access to a newly-vacated space, grabbed the cameras and went for a walk along the boardwalks.
Liberty Cap, a 37-foot (11-m) dormant hotspring cone, sits at the northern edge of Mammoth Hot Springs. Built up of mineral deposits over hundreds of years, it was named for its resemblance to the peaked caps worn during the French Revolution.
Flowers on the Edge Wildflowers grow in the rippled waters of the lower terraces, Mammoth Hot Springs.
Devil’s Thumb, a rocky outcrop, and the travertine layers of Minerva Terrace, Mammoth Hot Springs.
The travertine terraces of Mammoth Hot Springs are like nothing I’d ever seen before. The underlying rock in this area is limestone. Fractures in this limestone allow hot spring waters, replenished by rains and snows, to bubble through to the surface, dissolving calcium carbonate en route and depositing it as travertine.
Hot blue waters and white limestone terraces comprise Minerva Terrace.
Primal Colours: thermophiles (heat-loving organisms) colour different parts of the travertine. Yellow and colourless thermophiles live in the hottest waters; the orange and brown indicate cooler waters.
Lacy white limestone travertine against yellow spring waters, Minerva Terrace
Terraced slopes in white and yellow: Minerva Terrace
Plants on the Edge Flowers in the hot spring flats – Mammoth Hot Springs.
Up to the Overlook Elevated walkways protect the sensitive landscape from the tourists – and the tourists from themselves. Every year, people who can’t resist leaving the boardwalks or testing the waters suffer from burns.
Steaming white travertine terraces, with yellow wildflowers at the border. New Blue Spring.
Reflective waters: Main Terrace, Mammoth Springs
Mountains – and mountains of limestone: Main Terrace, Mammoth Springs
Like a waterfall, the hot mineral waters tumble over the terraces of Mound Spring, Mammoth Springs.
Mound Spring
Mound Spring
Twilight, and the wapiti or elk (Cervus canadensis) come out to graze on the lawns around Mammoth Hot Springs.
Mammoth Hot Springs Drive-Bye
Thermal steam in the evening light on the Upper Terraces of Mammoth Hot Springs.
Angel Terrace, on the Upper Terraces of Mammoth Hot Springs.
Trees engulfed by travertine stand like sentinel skeletons against the evening light.
The evening light was falling as we drove around the Upper Terraces, so we pointed the car north for the short trip back to our accommodation.
End of another beautiful day – Yellowstone National Park
People are always ready to take a break and smile, unselfconsciously, for the outsider with a camera.
One of the many things I love about being in Asia, is people’s willingness to be photographed.
Personally, I don’t like having my picture taken. If I’m in the sights of a lens rather than looking through a viewfinder, I get tense and awkward – which results in a bad photograph; only proving, through a sort of circular logic, that I am not photogenic.
Because I don’t like being photographed, I’m very cautious about making pictures of other people. That is “making” – not “taking”. “Making” is a co-operative process; “taking” is intrusive and uncomfortable. I usually make a point of being sure I have implicit permission before pressing the shutter: this might mean fewer “candids”, but at least I feel I have been given the “rights” to the portraits I have.
A rickshaw driver at the top end of a Bago market street spots me with my camera, and smiles.
In Myanmar, as in many parts of Southeast Asia, street portraiture is relatively easy. So much of life is conducted out of doors in public spaces. People generally have little choice about this, as “homes” and “offices” can be small, dark and stifling hot. Because people are used to being in the public eye when conducting personal business, the concept of privacy is different. Being photographed is less of an intrusion than it might be in other places.
Take the following photograph, for example. I don’t know if the man in the maroon longhi and crisp white shirt is a lawyer, an advocate, or a regional head-man, but he was clearly in consultation with the man in the bamboo hat. They were discussing, at length, an issue of much importance to the man in the hat, in the impromptu “office” at the top of the steps.
The office on the steps: a villager tells his problem to a head-man who makes notes of the story.
I waited until they reached a pause in their transaction before moving closer for a portrait, but, with life’s unhurried pace here, I don’t think they would have minded being interrupted. The “respectful distance” I had kept was more about my sensibilities than theirs.
With his story told, the beetle-chewing villager is now relaxed and happy.
I love following the life of the village into the markets.
The thanakha seller sits tall in front of her stand of Thanakha or Elephant-Apple Tree pieces.
The younger woman at the stand next door was keener to engage with the stranger. She showed me how to grind the bark, mix it with water, and apply it in the protective facial-paste many Burmese still wear.
The Bago market is a boon for local market gardeners, with seeds of all descriptions.
Seed-sellers in the market. This region is ethnically diverse: Burmese Indians are common here.
– as are ethnic Karen (or Kayin) people. Karen shopkeeper in typical hand-woven cotton head scarf.
A small child shops with mum –
– while another watches the street from the shopfront with Grandpa.
On a street corner, a motorcycle driver offers me a lift…
… but settles for a picture.
It’s lunch time, and a woman takes a break from chatting with her neighbour, to offer me some of her rice.
Three young Burmese men on a bike stopped for a portrait before roaring off down the dusty road.
Back on the main street, a young boy watches me solemnly from a dark shop.
And, as I prepare to climb into my air-conditioned bus, a group of Burmese women are piled in a local transport for their hot, dusty ride home.
If I carried a reflector and posed people, or moved them into better light, I guess I would spend less time post-processing. I know photographers who do set up their shots – and there is nothing wrong with that – but I am too self-conscious, or too “British” and worried about imposing, or too impatient…
Besides, I like environmental portraits, that tell us a little about people’s lives. So, while my results can be patchy, they are realistic. The beauty of Asia is that the people are very tolerant of outsiders, so there is plenty of opportunity for practice!
[…] markets are a rich source of photographic – especially portrait – material (e.g. Portraits ~ Bago Local Market and The People of Shwezigon Pagoda, […]ReplyCancel
- Performing the Ganga Aarti from Dasaswamedh Ghat, Varanasi
- Buddha Head from Shwedagon Pagoda, Myanmar
- Harry Clarke Window from Dingle, Ireland
- Novice Monk Shwe Yan Pyay Monastery, Myanmar
Packets of 10 for $AU50.
Or - pick any photo from my Flickr or Wanders blog photos.
While these images may not tell us much about this young novice’s actual life, to me they convey the kind of quiet, meditative contemplation that I associate with the New Year period.
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I love the images. Another year of very good weekly wanders completed.
Always thought provoking.
Ursula, what a wonderful post for the approaching new year. You’ve given us amazing images and an important message to ponder. Thanks for sharing, and I wish you the best in the coming year. Cheers, Karl
Glad you liked it, Gabe.
So pleased you stopped in, Karl. Thanks for creating such great opportunities. 😀
What a beautiful collection of images Ursula… 🙂 What a stunning scene!
Hi Ursula,
beautiful images. thanks to the abott for sending the novice there to sit 😉
it’s serene.
happy 2013 Ursula 😉
Michael
Thanks, Michael x 2. Happy New Year’s to you both.
Lovely images and beautifully said Ursula!
Thanks so much, Lisa. One day you and I have to talk about processing: your colours from the same location are SO different!!
Have a great 2013. 🙂
Ursula, all of these photos are wonderful and thank you for your report. Warm greetings and a lovely turn over, Dietmut
Thanks, Dietmut. Happy New Year to you too.
Great images Ursula,
I particularly like the “Novice in an alcove” (as captioned) shot. I know some people love “inspirational” messages/text added to such images, but to me they work best without. Just a personal preference! 🙂
Best wishes for the New Year.
Kevin, your input is always appreciated. Happy New Year!
Dietmut, thank you for your good wishes. Best wishes for a wonderful new year!
Ursula, I wish you and your family a very Happy New Year
http://dith-plukeenogenblikvandedag.blogspot.nl/2012/12/jouw-beschermengel-your-guardian-angel.html
lovely as always and may your 2013 be everything you both hope for. Thanks for the travels this year…looking forward to what 2013 holds in store.
Happy New Year, Signe. Hope to catch you face-to-face one of these days!
Happy New Year, All. May the rest of your days be better days.
Thanks, Patricia! You too.
Nice job, Ursula, with some stunning photos. I hope you have a very good new year.
Thanks, Patrick. HNY to you too. 🙂
I wouldn’t feel too guilty abt getting the little boy to sit still for an hour for your photos – every day we ask children to sit still for hours on end in the name of teaching them spelling and arithmetic 🙂
Very true, Philip! But I know MY children wouldn’t have sat so still. Thanks for your visit! 🙂
Thanks for sharing these images. Seven years ago I had a death experience that looked so much like this photo. Seeing it almost made me faint. I am inspired to visit this monastery before I die, now. Please kindly send the boy a percentage of the sales of the cards. The monastery as well as his family could use the support and his practice is now making you money. I wouldn’t want you to receive negative karmic ramifications. Thank you.
Thanks for your visit and comments, Denise. Rest assured, we always put funds and support into the monasteries and temples we visit.
[…] Candles in the Alcove Once the novices have eaten, we are able to persuade one to pose for us in the alcove. (I posted a selection of these photos as “Light the Way” some time ago.) […]