Dancing with the wolves

Devil's Garden, Death Valley, California, 2012

I don't know if it is because public hysteria from the last months, because of the life lack of general security, about the seductive temptation of the oblivion or really about the whole dark side of life, but this days I really feel like I am dancing with the wolves. Big, dark, ugly, filthy wolves.

However, as my picture above hope to prove, there is beauty even in the Devil's garden. So let them come.

Self awarded 41

Tenaya Lake, Yosemite, CA, 2011

It has been an excellent year. With lots of things happening, important changes in life, big challenges, fulfilling achievements, many places visited and new experiences. It has been an excellent year for my relationship with Cami, with my kids and my family. But above all, it was the year of growing up.

Puparo is fading out, consumer impulses burst and gone, I voluntarily gave up to my middle age sport car for a family one and start getting the courage to assume risk and think for new horizons.

I feel life is still generous with me and 41 is just a new beginning. A controlled, mature, wise, focused, new beginning. It's a self awarded feeling. A self awarded 41.

Happiness found in the flooded basement

Bucharest, May - "Flowers Month", 2012

Yes, my basement is flooded again. 2 years after the last episode, 4 years from moving into the house, Romania has transformed into a monsoon country and, after 2 weeks of insanely rainy "spring", together with a large portion of Bucharest, including metro stations, the land around my house become wet as a swamp. Due to sweet project imperfection and sloppy construction work (despite insane price) 2 years ago we had 10 cm of water in the whole basement, everything was wet and damaged. After 3 months of work and more than 10k euros additionally spent we had redone and insulated the whole space. Futile. Insulation imperfection again, insane heavy rain, and water entered again. Not much, but keeps you working the whole night to prevent from spreading. So, where's the happiness?

Trust me, I found it. See the blue towel in my picture above? That's happiness. 

It was a good evening thought, we had stolen 2 hours and run to cinema to see MIB3 (remarkable good btw, the best of the series) because my mother ensured the water fighting shift. She is incredible hard working in her early 60s, fighting water while taking care of two kids and surviving the nerve crisis of my soon-to-be-adolescent girl. But we got home eventually around 23:00 PM and I took over my water fighting shift. There are tools: towels, plenty of them, buckets, broom, hose and a water pump installed in a pit I had the inspiration to place in one of the basement rooms when building the house.

So here I am, bare feet, squeezing wet towels, sucking up water in the hose to create pressure, carrying full buckets to the pit, the whole nine yards! It is past midnight I had a difficult week, did not slept more than 6 hours / night the whole week, facing a sleepless night and all of the sudden starting to laugh. Cause I realized that the blue towel all wet I was squeezing was a Chelsea branded towel. And my mind starts to wander around thinking about how absurd this is, how Chelsea won the cup last week playing the ugliest football style (has it rain during the match?), how I gave up totally to watching football (after being heavy consumption TV fan). And yet again, how come I have a Chelsea towel in my house on the wet floor. I use to be a Barcelona fan, but Chelsea? WTF?

And then I remembered we bought this ugly cheap towel from Ohrid Lake in Macedonia (water again!), in a memorable trip, when I was preparing to bath into the lake and having nothing with us except our clothes. So I enjoyed those memories and suddenly there, among all wetness and struggle, tired and stressed, I found my inner happiness.

It's 3:16 AM now my friends and my happiness pushed me to share this with you now before going to bed. My mother shift should start at 4:00 AM. Sweet dreams!   

The Beggar, The Bank and the Sex Shop. Three short stories about a suit

Dryanovo, 2012

First one: Black suit, 2 doors cars, stop light in traffic. The Beggar come from nowhere and start washing (kind of) my back window. I pity him and (unusually) give him a bill left in the car. "Sa traiti domn avocat" he smiles at me. Something like, long live Mr. Lawyer. He had 2 min to judge me from what he felt and interacted with me. I am not a lawyer but he was close.

Second one: Blue suit, white oxford shirt, freshly shaved, walking calmly in the mall at a very relaxed (again unusually) hour with my mind wandering around. In front of me a good looking business dressed lady stops in front of a shop for a second trying to look inside it. Shee realises I am looking towards her, she turns around surprised and embarrassed. It was a sex shop. The she looks straight in my eyes with the most inviting look I ever saw. She had 10 seconds to judge me. Was I a good catch for her?

Third one: Suit again (color doesn't matter), inside the office, calling my bank. 10 min on the line, 5 identification questions. The operator sitting in front of the computer knows EVERYTHING about me, my profession, my bank account. And still talks to me like I am some kind of annoying shit. 

That's the environment my friends here. You have to wear a certain suit people are interested in before treating you with minimum respect.

Spring is finally here

Bucharest Botanical Garden, 2012

There is so much more to life than everyday hassle, government changes, global crisis or currency depreciation! Just visit botanical garden in the spring. Or close your eyes and remember it!

Poetul din BMW

Astazi a fost o zi grea. Plecat la 8, intors la 22 si stat in priza non stop. 8 intalniri, alergat intre birouri, clienti, furnizori, creante, vanzari, asociatii, concurenti, licitatii, sedinte, prezentari. Bateria la telefon s-a terminat, apoi s-a terminat si Mophi-ul. Am facut cred vreo 100 km prin oras, majoritatea in mare viteza ca deh, avem bolid. Sa zic asa a fost o zi grea dar buna. Cu ceva succese importante, cu ceva promisiuni interesante, cu ceva dezvoltari spectaculoase si cu aceleasi provocari date de anul asta mizerabil de pe piata. Si uite asa, ora dupa ora, m-a apucat noaptea prin oras si la 10 seara ma vedeam cu tatal meu la scara blocului lui pentru 10 minute. Apoi in sfarsit spre casa.

Pe acest ultim drum al zilei, vreo 2 km, tot agitatie, am gasit altceva de facut, m-am apucat sa butonez radio-ul de la masina sa asez posturile. Deh, aceeasi agitatie, familiar sentiment, cred ca majoritatea dintre cei care ma cititi il cunoasteti. O stare de incapacitate de relaxare a creierului, o agitatie continua ce trebuie alimentata. Cu umblatul la telefon, cu butonatul la masina, cu facut ceva sa iti tina atentia si mintea agitata. Ce mai, sentimentul robotic al workerului corporatist-antreprenorial-bucurestean.

Pana cand, la un moment dat, am dat din intamplare pe Radio Romania Actualitati si am auzit o muzica romaneasca buna dupa care realizatoarea emisiunii spune: "Ziua Mondiala a Poeziei se apropie de sfarsit si la radioul nostru ..." Cati dintre roboti stiu ca astazi a fost Ziua Mondiala a Poeziei?

Si eu, robotul, care-si masura micile succese ale zilei si isi gasea satisfactia in puterea bolidului ... E clar, Eminescu nu a existat ... Noroc cu Kalimero din viata mea.

Good Karma

10 days ago, in my second day in Death Valley, among other wonders I had decided to go and see the only point in the valley where vegetation could be found, Darwin Falls. A small spring which created a small fall and gather around some nice green trees and small forms of vegetation. The Falls are on the opposite side of the valley son it was a long road. I was planning for a quick visit and then hit the road for a short visit to an overlook point and reach the Panamint Dunes for the sunset. Only that I was not sure where the dunes are and how do I reach them!

So, I crossed the valley and then I entered the off road path leading to the Falls. It was worst than I thought it will be as road quality. Far worst that the one to the Racetrack and Wisconsin tourists (from my previous post) had their revenge :) 15 minutes on that road lead me to a place in which there were some cars parked. I parked just under the sign announcing me that I need a 4x4 vehicle to carry on. Indeed the guide was saying that it will be some walking to do. I grabbed my 8 kg photo back pack and start walking on the 4x4 road.

It was a heavy climbing road, it was midday and 30 degrees and no clouds in the sky. Road was OK and I start moaning about over cautious Americans, not allowing my SUV to go there and obliging everyone to walk.  I was eager to meet someone coming down from the Falls and ask about how long I was still supposed to walk. And I kept climbing, and climbing. It is this thing about me that, if I am motivated by taking pictures in a nice natural frame, I can forget my lack of shape and walk and wander for hours and long kilometers. In 2 days in the valley I did more than 30 km on foot! But this time it was a boring mountain road with not interesting landscape and no vegetation. Moreover I started wandering where are the touristic signs for such a landmark. An nobody was coming down. I had climbed for more than 90 minutes, finished all the water and reached very high level.

By the time I reached this old mine facility I was sure I missed the road. I had climbed 6 km, I lost 2 hours I was tired, without water and no soul was around. I had to go back the 6 km. For a planned to the second 2 days holiday like I had this was close to a disaster. Later in the day I could see from a higher ground the road I have climbed. Just follow the entire white line and you will understand how far I walked.

But then, miracle, 2 trucks showed out of nowhere. They were going down. I was, obviously, on the wrong path. I should have crossed the parking place and take the wash coming down from the mountain. He was so kind to give me a ride. "Hop on in the back please". And he went all way down with me jumping around in the back of the track but happy for the lift. In 15 minutes we were back down to the parking place.

He showed me the way. Take that road and in 10 minutes you will be there, but hey, be happy you did a very good exercise by climbing there. It's good for your health. It was no irony in his voice. I thank him for the ride and because he was so nice I told him this was my payback for helping the Wisconsin tourists one day before.

 

"You have good karma" he told me. And ran away. Indeed, I had a very good karma during those days and maybe always in my life. 10 minutes later, I was shooting Darwin Falls. Missed the Panamint Dunes and drove back home.

And then again, my karma has brought me to the other dunes exactly when the sun was setting upon them. I added another 3 km to my walking distance in that day but it has worth every step.

May your karma be good my friends!

Nascar make-up artist (for) rocks

Death Valley 2012

Somebody told me that Vegas will be full this weekend because it will be a Nascar race. And indeed, my short visit to Walmart confirmed it. What was the most promoted product (btw, a brilliant piece of punctual sales initiative)? No, not beer. It was cooler boxes! All kind, big small, colorful, lady bags! foam boxes. I bought a small cooler backpack. Obviously not because Nascar, I could not care less, cause I was going to see my own racetrack.

Racetrack Playa is one amazing place in Death Valley California. It's a place where big rocks are sliding leaving racetrack marks behind them. Nobody actually have seen one moving, but they are! If curious see here and how and why is it happening. For my photographic eye this was supposed to be a bliss. And so it was, as picture above confirms it. However, I was not totally lucky to see the full of it because of the weather. The flatbed sand was too dry and marks were little visible. I have spend a couple of hours wandering across the white plain, found many rocks but very few tracks behind them. Or some visible tracks without any rock!

Then I remembered that photography does not always means snapshot, in some cases means art direction. So I simply took one rock and put it at the end of a visible track. I had my pictures and then left it there for the tourists wandering around.

On the way back I had picked up some poor Wisconsin tourists which had the unhappy idea to rent a Wrangler from a local guy, in order to face the "rough" road I was flying on with my Dodge Durango (an SUV). The Wrangler lost it's electrical system in the middle of nowhere. So I picked them up and drove them to the car dealer. On the way back I asked them if they liked the Racetrack Playa. They said yes, too bad there were not too many visible tracks with rocks. 

I guess the guys I have left on the racetrack should have a different opinion.

Bulgarian Full Moon

Do you remember my little story about the Ms. Croatian taxi driver? We'll you just can top the stories of Vegas taxi drivers. Taxi drives are short here in between hotels or convention centers but taxi drivers are so bored, or maybe just trying to slip under your skin for further business, especially if you are traveling as single man ;), that they are looking to make conversation with you.

So, first was Mansour, a Lebanese which call himself Bill here. Funny guy, as any lebanese he had visited Bucharest and has friends there. He ofered me to show around some hot places, "although I saw you are a married man, I am sorry". He also told me he's in great trouble at night when all the fauna is mounting his cab half drunk and half naked. "And how do you stand?", "Well, every time I see this in my cab I call my wife and say: Nadia dear, take a shower, I am coming home". He has 4 kids and a happy family, as he mentioned to me earlier. And a happy wife I guess.

Then it was a white beard old man looking like a priest, some cheerful black American natives, an Englishman looking like a teacher, bored and superior, a black lady weighting 200 kilos ...

But today I had a guy who won a visa waiver 4 years ago and settled to Vegas to celebrate his luck. The guy is so happy here and from all the taxi drivers I could have met, his a Bulgarian (my "adoptive" country if only for the single year I worked with the RD people there) taxi driver, living in American Southwest, in Vegas, in love with photography. You know how I love this place and how many efforts I make to keep coming and shoot here. Well, the guy was in paradise. My photo paradise. 

He dropped me to the outlets. When I left it was a dark night and so was the taxi driver. He drove silently as we would see the biggest full moon ever raising above The Strip. довиждане my friends.

Leaving Las Vegas

It would be too simple to say that I am jet lagging and did not catch more than 2 hours of sleep in the last 36 hours (even though, to my real shame, I felt asleep at Le Reve by Cirque du Soleil)

It would be too simple to say that Puparo mood did not showed up, nor my gambling luck.

I guess what is really going on is that Vegas is loosing relevance to me and, despite all the glamour and room upgrades I purchased amazingly cheap, this city, Sin City, is not talking to me anymore. 

Of course, they do great conferences in this US city and landscapes and deserts around are calling me constantly, so I might be returning again here someday. But for now, 12 hours after I arrived here, is like I feel I have left Vegas already