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Sweetest smile, kindest eyes, the most gentle personality, you would never think that this child was homeless. He is one of the 60 live in children who reside at Sinethemba Children’s Care Centre, because they have no where else to go. These children don’t have many possessions or toys so this boy resorts to playing on top of a turned over shopping cart. Jumping up and down and running across it, he stops to show me the sweetest smile. With his carefree personality no one would ever be able to tell that he was leading a life full of hardships. After running away and him looking back to make sure I am following, he stops to turn around and flashes his for another picture, melting my heart all over again.
Shared beds, dirty cloths, bare feet, messy hair, and overcrowded spaces are sufficient words to describe Sinethemba Children’s Care Centre. Sinethemba is a home for street children in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. With over 60 live in children, the house is crowded and full of mayhem. These children have experienced things in their lives, which I never want to imagine. Through all the hard times though they have an instant community granting them love and family. One would think that their persona would be tainted, but these kids are some of the most fun and happy individuals I have ever come across. Most of them have no possessions and toys are foreign objects to them. Every time I leave after volunteering I sit and think about how amazing these children are, how vibrant and joyful they are considering their lives. The purpose of me going there is tutor them and help them with their schooling. In reality though, I think I have gotten more out of than I have given. These children have taught me about life and have shown me what’s truly important.
As we sit every week and look over fractions, I try to explain the concept of common denominators, this girl leans in close to me to hear what I am saying. She looks up at me with a confused smile, and looks back at her paper to once again try and figure out the problem. Numerous other children are running around and hanging on my neck, I try to keep the focus on her. Explanation after explanation she starts to understand.
This is just another day in the life of Sinethemba Children's Care Centre, a home for street children in South Africa. With over 60 children living there full time, craziness is the only word to explain the atmosphere. Through all the craziness though, is a bunch of fun loving children who are only looking for encouragement and love. I try and give her the encouragement she needs, one fraction at a time.
Some friends and I decided to trek a bit off the beaten path while we were studying abroad in Ghana. We found a mountain lodge that was over a mile from neighboring towns in both directions and stayed there for a few days. Down the road we came across a small village called Fume where we were pleased to find little to no significant Western influences. We walked around and engaged in as much conversation as we could with the many of the children. There were a group of boys who were running all about, jumping, and playfully bantering with each other, as little boys tend to do. However, trailing the boys was this stunning young girl who was carrying her baby sister on her back. Not only were they dressed in the same clothing, they both held this look in their eyes of a sort of wisdom and grace that was beyond their years. I could easily see how much the older girl cared for her sister and I felt a great warmth knowing that the younger child would probably grow with much love in her life. They do not have terribly many possessions, however they do have each other. It seems that that is all they need.
I spent a few weeks volunteering in Calcutta, which is one of the more bustling cities in India, to say the least. Calcutta does have many struggles, however it also has many beauties such as its rich tradition and culinary masterpieces. For a weekend break however, some fellow volunteers and I journeyed on an overnight train to the stunning coastal village called Puri. Instead of the dust and the city sounds of Calcutta, Puri was lush, and its inhabitants more relaxed. We lived like queens for a few days. I remember swimming in the ocean fully clothed with long skirts and scarves and all. Some local boys were laughing at us, probably wondering how we could be so amused by the ocean. We took a boat tour of a small harbor while we were there and got pleasantly lost in the astounding serenity. While relaxing on the dock I spotted the man in this picture. He was sitting in this position for quite some time, just looking out over his life work. Fishing boats. He seems to need little to be happy, and this can be seen in the fact that he prefers even to wear basic clothing. When I asked him if I could take his picture he only nodded. He needed not to pose for any picture because he was comfortable exactly the way that he was. If I could find something that brought peace to me like the water does to him, I don't think I would pose for any pictures either.
Easter week in Spain is celebrated in many ways including all-night parties, family lunches that last into the dinner hour and moving religious processions like this one in Cuenca, Spain.As penitent hooded men carry immense statues on a route all around town, the solemn silence in the air is only permeated by the beat of a single drum or brass music in a minor key. Often incense wafts through the air and some penitents walk barefoot over freezing-cold cobblestone.
Dressed in layers and a prized union jack hat, this Chinese lady worked in a remote section of the Great Wall selling souvenirs, drinks and postcards. A true entrepreneur, she pointed to the hat and said “I speak English.” The rest of her English was less than perfect but because the Mutianyu section of the Wall was empty that day we chatted for a while about our families, long hours that she works and the history of the area. Her warm inviting personality was a welcome contrast from the harshness of the wall and its surroundings on this bitterly cold February day.
The vitality of the Chinese people is inspiring and it can be seen in any given park in the morning. People practice musical instruments and do ballroom dancing, tai chi and even rhythmic gymnastics like this woman I encountered in the Jingshan park in Beijing, China.Though elderly, she was quite agile with the ribbon and proudly showed me her skills while I snapped this photo.
I saw this fisherman whilst sipping tea from a tulip-shaped glass at a cafe in Istanbul. With the Haighia Sophia mosque in the background and the fisherman's reflective expression of alertness coupled with endless patience, this scene seemed to sum up the city and its people for me. Istanbul is a lively, indeed frantic, city, full of heaving crowds and bursting at the seams with new arrivals from the East of Turkey over recent years. But the mark of a true Istanbullu is an almost Zen-like facility for detachment, a calm acceptance of life and its travails, and an enjoyment of small things like sipping tea with friends and fishing alone.
As the sun goes down and the cold starts to settle in, the girls that were merely acquaintances a week ago enter into an intimate huddle. The Universidad Austral de Chile did not have a womens rugby team until this small group of Chilenas decided to work together and form a bond that only they would share.
After the rain, mud, sweat and tears, tired arms wrap around each other to show that at the end of the day, no matter how much it hurts, it also feels right.
Walking through the roads giving a glimpse back in time, this Costa Rican man framed by the modern day industrial transportation in the background gives you a glimpse of a simpler time, a time when ox ruled these roads and semi-trucks where only a thought to be pondered.
This photo was taken during my second day of teaching English abroad in rural China through the "WorldTeach" program from Harvard University on “Tuesday, August 31, 2009" around 9:00AM at the “ChengZhang Middle School” playground field in Hengyang, Hunan Province, China. The picture shows several of my local Chinese students, both Class 130 and Class 131, waiting patiently in a single file line prior to beginning their first week of class after hearing a welcome message given by the school’s Headmaster. Many of my students were still transitioning back into school mode after spending the last two months enjoying chinese ‘life beyond the classroom’ over summer vacation. This event was one of the many speeches the Headmaster gave to the Chinese students over the academic year.
I was traveling Tokyo, Japan in April of 2010. This sushi restaurant is one of the best in the Japan. Tsukiji area is famous for seafood market. You can buy the freshest seafood here. I waited 3 hours in the line to eat here. This sushi bar is very small, seating about 15 people. The line is very long. However, I do not regret waiting in line. Because sushi tasted so good I felt like I was in heaven. The sushi man you see in the picture served me. He was really nice. I have to say He is the best sushi chef in the world.
I was traveling western Europe in December of 2009. I was on the train going from France to Swiss. I met a French boy named Ali who sat directly front of me. He was really cute. When we first met, he was really shy at first. I got close to him by playing with him. I showed him some card magic. We played Texas Hold'em together. His dad taught him how to play. His parents were also in the train with him.
I was traveling western Europe in the December of 2009. The weather was really cold in Mont Marte, France. I was near the Mont Marte Church. In the streets (where many artists drew/painted), a guy was walking dressed in women's clothes. I couldn't believe that he would dress like that in cold winter day. Because it was like below 0 degree celcius. I took 2 shots of him, this was my best shot. It's really funny and very memorable for me.
This is Abou. He's hyper, he's a clown, he often unleashes a string of Pulaar words that make him sound like the Tasmanian Devil. This is the first time I think I've ever seen him calm. While helping a friend and fellow Peace Corps Volunteer with a mosquito net distribution, it was me behind the camera, charged with taking photos to document the event. Mostly, I busied myself with snapping the crowd, but then there was Abou, constantly underfoot. He would tug at my skirt saying "Fotam, fotam" - "Take my picture, take my picture." So finally I did. I leaned down to him and in one click I think my camera saw more of him than I ever did with my own eyes. Shortly after this picture was taken, I believe he just sat down in the middle of the chaos and started eating dirt. That's our Abou, and we love him.
I was volunteering at a school in the village of Chujulimul, Guatemala when this woman appeared before my eyes. To me, this photo says everything about the struggle of women in developing countries. Her face is relaxed yet it expresses so much emotion. Looking into her eyes, one can tell that she is exhausted - but she pushes on, determined to give her life to the child she carries on her back.
In the Himalayan village of Nako, nearly 11,000 ft above sea level, it can be hard to find a piece of flat ground for a cricket pitch. When I had visited in the morning, the thousand-year-old Buddhist monastery had been empty and serene, but in the cool summer evening the courtyard rang with the shouts and laughter of these three boys.
Earlier in the afternoon, he was animated, surrounded by family and friends as they lunched together. After the social gathering, the women went to pray and the children descended the creaky steps to the dusty temple grounds, to play. He was left by himself, and became pensive, staring without seeing by a circular window in the wooden temple. It seemed to me that the textures of his skin and the temple walls blended into a map of worry and weather, things perhaps I did not understand. I lifted my camera and took the shot, and to this day when I stare at this man all I see are all the lines, and the stories they might lead to, the story lines.
After walking through Angkor Wat, I opted to explore Cambodia's floating villages. The tour guide advised me not to go -- wouldn't I rather see a crocodile farm or take a Khmer cooking class?
The paint-chipped, long boat navigated between floating houses, rusted coke cans, and crocodile carcasses. Only accessible by boat, Kompong Phluk is located on the Tonle Sap lake. Two Cambodian children offered to drape their serpents around my neck for a Riel (roughly 2/10s of a US penny). I couldn't tell whether this was a bargain or a death wish.
Amid the poverty and stench, the younger generation's creativity and resilience were incredible. They transformed the potentially lethal into a means of survival.
Her eyes betray her attempt to conceal her beauty from my lens. She has a secret that even she is unaware of. Her life will be more difficult than most can imagine, yet her spirit precedes her, her soul taking refuge in the brightness of her eyes. My only hope is that the world does not dim them.
The only white they know is that of their eyes. Covered in dust and dirt, they are clothed in hand-me-downs from countries worlds away. They unfailingly sit outside my door every morning. They are curious about the foreigner; curious about the world. They are the future of their country, but have the rare ability to live in the present. I can't help but be drawn into them for a moment, to see the world once again through the eyes of a child.
In the small village of Santa Maria de Jesus, just under the shadow of Volcan Agua, is the school Jardin De Amor (means "Garden of Love"). It is a small school where students who are not able to afford to go to public school receive an education and a hope of a better future. I was there teaching English to a group of students in the school. After class we would have recess and on this particular day I met Maria and Marigold who were playing a clapping game.
When traveling, one always tries to seek out the most "genuine" experiences. While studying abroad in Santiago de Chile, I spent a weekend in southern Chile. Anthony Bourdain, of the Travel Channel acclaim, earmarked this region as the land of cowboys and rough riding rodeos. To be honest, my intentions for the weekend had been learning to surf and beach bumming, but after discovering a local rodeo was scheduled for that Saturday, I decided to seek out the "real" authentic experience of the area. As it turned out, the rodeo was quite boring, especially for Chilean standards, as those words didn't come from me first. Instead, the "true" experience was the interaction I shared with the cowboys pre-rodeo. Unaware at that time in my studies that Chilean time means minutes to hours after the suggested time, I arrived early to the rodeo. Out of curiosity, I wandered over to the ranch nearby. I found more than just meandering llamas, the performing cowboys and their families were preparing. I found them to be generous and welcoming. To me, that was the show, not the actual rodeo.
The picture above is a photo of a pre-rodeo ritual that includes drinking red wine or pisco out of the carved horn to bring good luck.
Half a million religious Jews participated in a wild frenzy of celebration during the annual pilgrimage to Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, father of Jewish mysticism. This little boy captures the party fever!
Beyond the eclectic cast of characters -- Edward Scissorhands, Marilyn Monroe, the Grinch, Hephaestus, and Michael Jackson -- another world flourishes. Beyond the swarming tourists, this other world is just as likely to not only revive the past, but also inspire it to curtsey and sway. Beyond the echoes of the Las Ramblas, a couple dances with an elegance that harks back to another era; this intimate moment makes me nostalgic for a time I never knew, and a place I am only beginning to experience. Beyond the camera lens, he dips her, her back arcs, their eyes meet, and her hair grazes the ground. In this moment, the guitarist, the case littered with Euros, and the young lady taking the photograph do not exist; there is only the two of them.
As I weave back through Las Ramblas, the dead and the mythical wink coquettishly, causing me to think that maybe now is then, and reality is the true performance art. Perhaps we have it all backwards.
On a Friday afternoon in Delhi, India, three generations of women escape the 42 degree heat and daydream in the cool shade within the courtyard of India’s largest mosque, the Jama Masjid.
On a Friday afternoon in Delhi, India, three generations of women escape the 42 degree heat and daydream in the cool shade within the courtyard of India’s largest mosque, the Jama Masjid.
This woman has devoted her life to perfecting the Swedish folk art piece called the Dala Horse. These little horse figurines have come to symbolize the Swedish heritage after being introduced at a worlds fair. Now this woman has spent much of her life painting the completed carved horses.
This little girl is the youngest of four children in a family I stayed with overnight in Stavanger, Norway. She and her siblings performed for me and my companions by singing songs and by playing the guitar, piano and drums. As we were leaving this wonderful host family, this little girl was listening to music on her little mp3 player and singing along. Every once and a while you could understand the lyrics or the tune. She was listening to the Swedish group that took the world by storm, Abba. This little girl didn't speak English only her native Norwegian, but that's what made it even more fun. She would be singing what she heard the lyrics to be and made up her own words because she really didn't know what they were saying. Abba was her favorite group to listen to and sing along with. Maybe now she is beginning to understand some of the words she has been singing.
While touring with a university performing troupe in the Nordic Countries, we had the awesome opportunity to stay with host families. This little girl was the youngest of four kids in my host family in Stavanger, Norway. The whole family was very musical. When they took us home after our performance, the kids decided to put on a show for us. One of the sons played guitar, another percussion and the two girls sang. It was a night I will always remember.
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Pilgrims in the Ganges during Kumbha Mela by David Jennings
Haridwar, India
Once every twelve years Kumbha Mela, the largest religious gathering in the world, descends upon Haridwar, India, where the Ganges enters the plains from the Himalayas. Millions of pilgrims come from the far reaches of India, many without money even for food, walking barefoot or piling onto the roofs of trucks in order to come and sleep along the bank by the thousands and, when the sun rises, bathe themselves in the holiest of rivers, in the water they believe to have descended straight from heaven.
The streets are wet. It had snowed a few days earlier, a rare event for this time of the year in Bethlehem. The large, silver tourism buses that clog the streets are absent. The checkpoint into Bethlehem has been closed after a bomb alert, leaving the street vendors and tourism shop owners with nothing to do. They sit outside their shops, smoking heavily and drinking their strong Turkish coffees.
As I walk through the crowds, the faces aren't welcoming. Most people look right by me, sipping their mud coffee. Then I hear it, a giggling overhead. I look up, and there she is: a splash of color in this sad, grey world. The cold wind whips at her hair and through the party streamer she's holding. We stare at each other for a moment, foreigners.
A voice of authority echoes behind her. She disappears.
A circumcision ceremony at a neighboring Maasai "boma," or homestead, is an opportunity for the entire community to get together for dancing, singing, and sharing food. These two men are members of the junior warrior age-set; they are the up-and-comers, the next generation, the greatest rivals of their elder companions. The red ochre face paint is a clear indicator of their status. Here they make their way back to the festivities after partaking of the ceremonial goat. Taboo requires the warriors to eat alone - never in front of women or guests. So they take shelter around the acacia tree in the background, shielded fromt the view of outsiders, and strengthened by the bond of brotherhood.
Day two of a 300+ mile fixed gear bicycle tour from Tokyo to Osaka. We were exhausted after having climbed some unforgiving mountains and made a rest stop at a random street corner with a sign that read 'Totsem'. It meant nothing to us... Until employees in dirt-ridden flip flops came out, found out about our adventure, and invited us in for their annual company barbeque! It was there that we I met the man with the pink head towel. His name was YO! And he was the happiest person we've ever met. The popularity of the fixed gear bicycles came from the influence of Keirin (professional fixed gear bicycle racing) in Japan, however, YO! has never even seen one in real life. With no brakes to stop, and pedals that don't coast, it was YO!'s very first time, and I must say, he did pretty good for his first time.
This man will forever be known as Baba to me. I was in my first week as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Azerbaijan when we met. I was taking pictures of my new neighborhood when a few local children saw me and starting speaking excitedly to me in Azerbaijani (which at this point was still just a bunch of strange sounds to me). They ran away, but quickly returned, surrounding this older man on all sides and slowly guiding him towards me.
When they finally got him to me they exclaimed, "Baba!" I happily thought to myself, "grandfather, I know that word!" The children motioned for me to take his picture, something I was delighted to do. There was something magical in this man's face. When he saw my camera his eyes lit up like a child seeing a new toy. After taking the picture I showed it to him on my camera's screen and he started chuckling with glee. It was if I'd just performed a magic trick right before his eyes. It's that look of wonder and merriment that makes this one of my favorite photos.
A bambi-eyed boy stares at a group of “oburonis,” a Ghanaian term meaning foreigners, as his mom watches with an amused smile from her cooking pot. Agobogbloshie is the largest slum in Accra, Ghana, and home to many locals. The government is on the brink of forcing all residents from of the land to clear and clean the highly polluted area.
The closest Ghana will come to seeing a snow-covered street, a local man works packaging flour in Agbogbloshie, Accra's largest slum. His body quickly becomes coated in a chalky film within minutes of beginning work.
When I asked to snap this shot he gave me a sweet grin and answered “Akwaaba,” meaning “you are welcome.” Just one example of the sincere and welcoming culture that inhabits this place.
This is part of a larger series that I have been working on. The idea behind the series is to focus on manual laborers. In many countries, Taiwan included, it seems as if those that perform the hardest yet extremely important jobs are often regarded as lower class citizens. Children in school dream of becoming doctors and rich business men, while the jobs that put food on our tables, and keep the country moving are neglected. This pictures represents the spirit of this series, it restores the dignity that was once given to those the work hard, and do a good, respectable job. Factor workers are often portrayed as unhappy worker bees in a filthy location. This picture confronts that stereotype and glorifies this job. The lighting of the photo is intentional, as a means to beautify the situation and romanticize the job.
Time stands still as eye contact with a local villager is momentarily made through the window of bus.
As I headed up to a peak of the Cordillera Blanca mountain range near Huaraz, Peru in a shaky and rattling bus, I persistently tried to photograph roadside villagers as they went about their daily tasks. Pictures continuously turned out shaky or were caught an instant too late until time seemed to pause for a moment; I was fortunate enough to capture a picture of this woman as we stared into each others eyes.
He came from around the corner, with garbage in his hand and dirt on his face. The little boy latched on to my leg within seconds of my arrival at the place he calls home: a garbage dump. His family lives and works on a garbage dump. The Umapad families scavenge through mounds of garbage, looking for anything they can sell or use. Scavengers make an average of two dollars a day, barely enough to raise families of seven or more. Mom and Dad aren't the only ones who scavenge. Children just like this little boy can be seen sifting through rotten food, garbage bags and smoking piles of ash.
As I took this photo, the sight of houses perched on mountains of dirt and the smell of 10 years of compacted trash became less overwhelming. I lost myself in this boy's curiosity. I sensed that he escaped from his world for a moment as well.
These boys were four among an extended family of over twenty who had come to the holy city of Varanasi, India, on a pilgrimage. After the rest of the family, with luggage balanced atop their heads, squeezed past me in one of Varanasi's narrow alleyways, these boys, having watched their family round the corner, surrounded me and began battling with one another the prove who spoke the most English.
During a sailing tour of the Yasawa Islands we were offered the opportunity to visit a small traditional village. The children there absolutely loved having their pictures taken, and each time they posed the boys would eagerly throw out a multitude of hand symbols. This boy's smile, like all of them, was infectious, and I was grateful to capture the genuine love and happiness he exuded.
Struck by the effect of the fountain's water falling across her body, I snapped this photo of a woman walking through Barcelona's Parc de la Ciutadella on a beautiful June afternoon.
I was living in Liberia for the past two years. I have met this really nice lady at the hospital. She has been ill and was trying to prepare some meal for herself. I asked her if I can sit and chat with her for a while...she agree...after she did not mind if I took her picture...she was very calm and "present" at the moment.
Known for their painted faces, bright robes, and avant-garde hair arrangements (did I just see this one on Sarah Jessica?), Jain monks like this one are often found walking along the ghats by the Ganga in Varanasi. Willing to share their wisdom with whoever is passing by, they'll gladly share a smile too (but come with pockets full of change as they'll expect some coins in return). Might be the cheapest thing to buy in Varanasi! See the man's necklace in the back right? He'll probably sell it to you... "Hello Madam! 50 Rupeeeees!"
Apparently I didn’t throw enough in.“What is this?” she asked.“I want to see some paper.”
While walking the streets of Buenos Aires I stopped to watch the end of a tango routine.I was impressed and thought I would contribute something to the cause. As the girl came around, I threw in a coin into the hat.I was shocked when she dug into the hat and found my coin, holding it up to the crowd in mockery.Fortunately, I didn’t miss a beat and stayed behind my camera.After a few snaps I looked out at her.“I can take it back if you’d like,” I said in good nature.
She gave a half grin, dropped the coin on the ground and continued her rounds.Unbelievable.
Franco Antonio Piña Alarcón, 5, on his turf in San Fernando, Chile.His family and dozens of others have been living in tents on the outskirts of town since the Feb. 27 earthquake.
I shot this while on an assignment with a photographer for La Tercera, a newspaper in Santiago.I saw Franco standing alone, holding a pole with a piece of string attached to the end.He held the pole over the ditch and let the string hang down into the water, “fishing”.When he saw me he put the stick down and inched shyly closer, without a word, eyeing the camera.When he reached his limit, he squatted down and I snapped this.
Friends can have fun anywhere, even while taking a break from performing in an all day street festival that showcases the variety of native Bolivian music and dance.
I arrived to Santiago, Chile from Punta Arenas on March 2 and headed into the city the next day to check out the damage from the Feb. 27 earthquake.While wandering through the old town sector, I saw this family living on the street.I went up to the lady and asked about her experience during and after the quake.
After their apartment was destroyed, Cecilia Painequeo, 36, her 11-year-old daughter, Catherine (pictured back left) and her 15-month-old son, Vincente (pictured center) were forced out onto the city sidewalks, surrounded by their salvaged posessions.
Cecilia took me in to see the apartment.Sections of the ceiling had collapsed.A red bed frame lay twisted on the ground."I was sleeping in that bed," she said."It was a miracle."One of the exterior walls had collapsed inwards and from her third story bedroom you could see the sky.
Cecilia is a peruvian immigrant, single mother and she is pregnant with her fifth child."The government isn't going to help us," she said. "We're immigrants."
During some of my last days in Cambodia, we visited Angkor Wat. On my way down the path away from the temple, a classmate pointed out this young girl picking flowers far away from the path.
On my first day in Phnom Penh with 9 classmates and 3 teachers, we took tuc tuc rides (in groups of two) to the Royal Palace. On the way there, we were exposed to the hustle and bustle of the city. Judging from his uniform and the time of day, it can be assumed that the boy was on his way back from morning school.
This is a face of a girl who knows poverty. She, most likely, walked at least an hour up the mountainside to meet us. Her picture is a stark contrast to the smiling faces of the children in Antigua, just down the mountainside. Her brown, almost black, eyes tell many stories of hardship and fear.
This little girl's name is Esperanza. She is an absolute delight and breathtaking. She was with her family playing a competitive game of pool volleyball and playing really well!! Esperanza was so happy in this moment and the energy was fun and playful it could not be resisted. Right before she jumped back into the game I snapped this photo of her and her emotions can be felt in this moment.
As I was taking a walk through a neighborhood I came across this beautiful church under renovations. I tried to make myself unnoticeable and just take the moment in. These men stated so much about themselves in their postures that their essence could be felt. It was a large church and only had these two men working on a Tuesday. The man on the left is taking a short break under the sun as the man on the right continues to work hard. There was something beautiful in this moment!
On the drive to Punta Cana, a short trip was made in a small town. As I walked up and down the street, children began to follow me and greet me. It was a fascinating experience filled with joy! I asked if I may take some photos of them and they were more than eager. It became a sort of contest for them for who could be the funniest, pose most like a model, or who remained in the most photos. Their innocence, love, and fun personalities pierce through the photograph.
This is my "muchacho" friend from Barahona. I met him when I was in the Dominican Republic working on a volunteer project. He is a special young man. Born at a poverty level that most of us cannot even imagine, he seems to find peace in the most random places.
I first met him and saw nothing but a smile... he grabbed my hand and led me to the beach. He is mute, due to several birth complications, but ironically he speaks more than anyone I know. Between hand gestures and tugging he showed me his favorite place to be...
With no words needed - he showed me true serenity, how to be a peace when you have almost nothing. I have never developed a friendship with so little words - actually with none at all... and I thank my muchacho for that. He had the ability to show me what most people in this world could not and he did it so easily.
This photo was taken when i was tagging along with a local fisherman. His name is Pica and he fishes off the beaches of mazatlan for a living. These birds usually dive down to catch fish and normally are able to fly up and away again, however this bird was not the case. We saw it stranded in the middle of the ocean and it was injured. Pica told me that when this happens, the birds usually will die because it is stranded and will drown or be eaten by other sea predators. So usually when local fisherman sees this, they will pull them out of the water and take them to the beach where they can recover until they are able to fly again. Was truely an amazing sight to see.
A typical Friday night in a neighborhood in Grenada, consists of "liming" or relaxing with friends and playing a game of dominoes. This older gentleman was very serious about his game!
Wrapped in bright shawls that match the flowers they sell, these girls line up along the ghats on the coast of the Ganga, selling marigolds to pilgrims and tourists to the holy city of Varanasi. Also known as Banaras or Kashi, to those who know it best, this city and the river that runs through it are the holiest sites in the world. Little leaf boats filled with marigold flowers and small butter lamps are offerings to the Ganga, the light and life giving water that flows through the city.
Buy a few marigolds to offer to the river, or perhaps a cup of chai to share with the young girls who sell them. They have much to tell you about their city and their school, and if you're lucky, you'll get more than just merit, you'll gain a new friend.
to dance? to sing? to clap? To put down my camera and join the crowd that gathers every Sunday around 4pm on the corner of Defensa and Independencia, to see the local band Radio Roots perform in Buenos Aires's oldest neighborhood, San Telmo.
These charismatic performers fuse punk, reggae, and hip hop over traditional rhythms like la rumba y cumbia. They dance and sing in among the crowd of locals and tourists alike who flock to San Telmo's Sunday art market. Grinning juice vendors, indigenous craftsmen, and charming antiques dealers form the stage on which they perform. Narrow, cobblestone streets mean there's no room to back away, not like you would want to. The energy is contagious; the music is electric.
An outstretched hand, an invitation, a challenge... Put down the camera. Join in the fun.
I hesitated as I walked up the steps of a Hanuman temple in Hampi, India; Non-Hindus are not allowed inside of every Hindu temple. I looked up the white stairs and locked eyes with this Brahmin, whose smile spread from ear-to-ear as he motioned me inside. Although he only spoke a few words of English, we managed to communicate through hand motions and smiles as he guided me around the temple.
I was studying abroad in Switzerland at the Ecole Cantonale d'art de Lausanne for photography. In one of my classes we needed to film a short 3 minute music video. We came up with the idea that we wanted to have a sled race at night. This image shows two of my classmates, Stephanie and Hugo, who I was working with. We wanted to test out the idea during the day to make sure that it was possible to film on a sled. One Wednesday afternoon we drive for about an hour into the mountains and spent the rest of the day sledding with the backdrop of the majestic Swiss Alps. The snow melted a week later and we couldn't finish our idea but I will always remember that day with my friends.
I was studying abroad in Switzerland at the Ecole Cantonale d'art de Lausanne for photography. In one of my classes we needed to film a short 3 minute music video. We came up with the idea that we wanted to have a sled race at night. This image shows two of my classmates, Stephanie and Hugo, who I was working with. We wanted to test out the idea during the day to make sure that it was possible to film on a sled. One Wednesday afternoon we drive for about an hour into the mountains and spent the rest of the day sledding with the backdrop of the majestic Swiss Alps. The snow melted a week later and we couldn't finish our idea but I will always remember that day with my friends.
I am very interested in many aspects of French culture. I like this image because it brings together many of those things which I find beautiful. Architecture is Paris, in my opinion, is the most beautiful of beautiful. In the image the glass roof lets in a soft romantic light that can only be found in Paris. It is further accented by the disposition of the French waiter. In France, people know how to take their time to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. French cafés are a wonderful place for a break from the stress of everyday life. It is part of the culture and the concept carries over to meals as well. Another aspect of the image that I love about France is that it was taken in a train station. The efficiency of mass rail transit is something that I like very much about the culture.
This is a good friend who I have known for many years. She was a foreign exchange student from Germany at my high school. From the moment I met her I knew we shared a connection that would probably follow us our whole lives. When she was forced to move from her host family's domicile, my family welcomed her with open arms. Since her return to Germany our friendship has been stronger than ever. We try to visit each other every other year.
In this image, we are talking a leisurely walk after dinner on a path near to her house in Langen, Germany. In the background the sun dips into the earth leaving color streams in the sky. Her dog, Vagabond in the distance is seen amidst the path and slightly visible are the blurry outlines of an electrical tower and wind turbines. However, what makes this image special to me is that I capture the vulnerable moment in an expression of 1/60th of a second. Something as mundane as a stroll after dinner is heightened to a cinematic realization of friendship and character.
A young mulata girl sits on her front steps in Trinidad, Cuba. Because of the growing economy in tourism, many Cubans have taken up charging people for their photograph. Instead of working a lemonade stand, this young girl sits outside and waits for tourists to ask if they can take her picture and she helps make a living for her family.
Nearing the Lunar New Year, morales were high in Cha Shan village, a small rural community in Yunnan province, China. The leaders of the village decided to celebrate my group's visit with a feast followed by rounds of rice wine shots. This man was a father of three and grandfather of eight who looked on with the young and old residents as we linked arms with the village leader and tipped back the potent liqour. I looked around at the elders watching and asked if they would like to have a drink with us. "No," replied the village leader, "they are too old." Contemptuous, the grandfather stood, took a shot of the rice wine and smiled. Never too old.
This is our new friend Liudong. We met him in France, where he is studying. He is from China, where he studied science and engineering at university. After he finished he wasn't satisfied with his life, he wanted to do something that would make him happy. So he started over in France, taking Theatre and Literature classes, because he wants to be a playwright. He's got a good sense of humor, so that's a start.
The effects of the erupting Icelandic volcano were felt as far as Greece, where stranded travellers, like this Greek man, had to resort to sleeping in the airports.
The St. Bernard is the national dog of Switzerland. This elderly couple we met on our hike had two, and a tiny dachsund. One dog weighed more than twice the old lady. Hiking in nature is a huge pasttime in the mountains of Switzerland, and this couple felt a lot safer having their best friends, who are known as rescue dogs, along for the walk.
Children with kites play on the Mekong River, waving frantically to passing boats, their squeals of laughter rippling across the water. The river acts as a home for many Vietnamese. The children find joy despite their impoverished surroundings.
I found this little creature poking his head out of his class room window, clearly not interested by the lesson and more about what was going on in the world outside.
November 17, 2009 was the 20th Anniversary of the Velvet Revolution, or the fall of Communism, in what was then Czechoslovakia. This parade of thousands of Czech people followed the original route of the peaceful demonstration that changed the fate of the nation.
Over 30 years after the Khmer Rouge massacred more than 3,000 in Ba Chúc, Vietnam, the town remains poor. This lady is a beggar in the area who lost family in the massacre. She also suffered injuries because of landmines planted in the area during the Vietnam War. Her story is not unique; the countryside of the area was carpeted with landmines during the Vietnam (or as the Vietnamese call it the American) War in an attempt to stop the Viet Cong from entering the South. This lady is representative of the suffering of many of the Vietnamese people who had, for years, been subjected to colonialism and unfair treatment.
During my first day volunteering on a community development project with Volunteer Africa 32 Degrees South in the township of East Cintsa, Nunu arrived at the children’s play structure barefoot and smiling. I wish a photograph could capture her infectious giggle because it was a wonderful sound to hear throughout my time spent on the project. She was there every day and it was always a joy to spend time with her and all the wonderful children. Even though many of the children spoke very little English (and myself no Xhosa), this experience showed me how to connect with children without very much language, just through play. It was fantastic to watch the children put their new play structure to use as what once was a trash heap has been transformed into a playground for the children, as well as a community marketplace, through the hard work of the local organization and volunteers from around the world. It is wonderful to see the effort being put into this wonderful community so that Nunu and the other children will have a safer and more beautiful community to grow up in. Volunteering is by far the most rewarding way to travel and experience another culture.
Javiera lives in a safe house for children taken from sexually abusive families. Here, she stops as I chase her through the botanical gardens outside the city. We never spoke of her family. All we did was run. We ran down the path laughing and puffing, faster and faster towards her better future. She beat me every time.
Javiera lives in a safe house for children taken from abusive families. Here she is taking a moment of rest in the grass with her adopted brothers and sisters after a long day in the botanical gardens outside the city.
The visit of 4 volunteers of Un Techo para Chile from Santiago was frightening and exciting for 4 year-old Madlen. A 45 minute drive from the small town of El Carmen, they certainly live an isolated life. However, the family was extremely grateful for the delivery and construction of a new, simple house for them to survive the winter after the earthquake destroyed their old farm home. It was sad to leave when she became upset and would not say goodbye to us because we were leaving, but I hope it had a positive impact on her to see others helping her family in such a difficult time.
A young girl carries her little sister through a Ghanaian slum by cocooning her in African fabric around her chest. Many girls undertake this chore because their mothers are overwhelmed with daily tasks like cleaning, cooking and selling goods on the street.
On my way through Petra, the Lost City of Stone, I came across a Nabataean Guard. He guards the capital city of the Nabataeans. Petra became a center of trade, home to a famous treasury and theater, among others, that were all created from the large stone structures.
After a long day of touring Yan'an in the Shaanxi Province of China, my friends and I took a break to look for something to eat. We came across a small alleyway in the old part of town and found a gathering of people chatting and reclining on small wooden stools. It seemed that everyone was eating at this woman's small kitchen front and when we asked why they told us she made the best noodles in town and was known for her sweet date bread. We ordered bowls of handmade noodles and a few pieces of the date bread. As we happily slurrped our noodes we watched the woman skillfully make the bread, every step an instinct. Kneading the dough, adding ingredients, flattening into shape, placing the bread on a hot stone stove. She watched the stove continously and flipped the bread over every once and a while with her worn, bare hands.
A sufi dancer spins so fast I can only see his face when I freeze it on film. Music bellows or erupts or echoes in the background. People cheer and laugh and applaud, even though he hasn't yet finished his display. The sun falls, and the dancer is pulled out of the night by a single light. He looks like magic, or that he's spinning so fast he might fly.
It's Ramadan. I'm at an Iftar dinner--a breaking of the fast. We eat hummus and dates and fish. We drink warm cola. I'm sitting in the shade of the Citadel, a fortification turned holy place built by Salah al-Din to protect Cairo from the crusaders.
It feels strange: to break a fast by eating a date, a food that, through history, has become a tradition; to listen to music that has, through history, become a defined facet of culture; to be surrounded by rock that has, through history, become holy and reverent.
And to watch that, and to capture it on film, was like magic.
This rural Ghanaian woman runs a provisions stall, which sells everything from laundry soap to powdered milk. I had stopped to buy some candy, and she asked me to snap her picture. In Ghana, women often act as primary breadwinners since trading and commerce are traditionally female domains. With her Mona Lisa smile, the woman in this picture reflects the understated pride of so many Ghanaian women who work to support their families.
These junior high students are marching through Humjibre, a village in Western Ghana, on the anniversary of Ghana’s independence. On March 6,1957, Ghana became the first sub-Saharan African country to gain independence from colonial rule, and Ghanaian school children commemorate this historic occasion with symbolic marches all over the country. The conformity in both the dress and movement of the students in the photo embodies a culture that prizes uniformity over diversity and community over individuals. These students, led by a top-ranked Form 1 student named Janet, march with the same quiet conviction that helped Ghana win its independence, paving the way for a surge of independence movements throughout the continent.
When our car broke down on the way to Timbuktu, these two Malian men stopped to help. They had just approached us on bicycles, when I snapped this picture. The language barrier prevented us from communicating directly, but they immediately diagnosed the problem. After push-starting our vehicle, I watched them ride off in the opposite direction through the noonday desert heat.
Antu, 13 years old, in traditional Mapuche garb, plays the accordion at the Mapuche New Year celebration. The Mapuche are an indigenous group of Chile and celebrate New Year's on the night of the summer solstice because it is the beginning of longer days.
The Mapuche, an indigenous people of Chile, celebrate New Year's on the night of summer solstice instead of Jan 1 because it is when the days begin to be longer (in the southern hemisphere). This picture is of Mapuches in their traditional clothing at the Mapuche New Year celebration.
An old woman from the village of Xiejiaqiao in Hangzhou province thinks back to a time when she could communicate with her loved ones. One of the last speakers of her native dialect, she speaks no Mandarin; her grandchildren speak nothing but Mandarin.
A young girl plays ballerina with China's most iconic landmark as a backdrop. While many tourists don sensible footwear for hiking the Great Wall's steep staircases, Chinese women and girls occasionally rise to the occasion in fancy dresses or stiletto heels.
I was wandering around my new hometown, Shanghai, taking photographs one afternoon. I was walking on a pedestrian overpass, and decided to prop my camera on a rail to get some photos of the traffic passing by below. As I was sitting and waiting for the right moment through my view finder, I noticed in the corner of my eye that a group of men had gathered around me. They were watching me taking photos, and smiling kindly. It wasn't anything odd or frightening, I am now used to people feeling amused by my non-Chinese face, and the men were endearing. After a good 30 seconds of them smiling I decided to look up, and say "Ni Hao" and smile back. They replied with a "hello" in English, while one of the men took out his camera and asked if he could take a photo with me through hand gestures and broken English. I nodded yes, and took a photo with him. I then asked if I could get a photo of their group, and they smiled as they nodded yes.
Afterwards we all shared a somewhat moment of gratitude and they continued on with their day as did I. I was really happy I asked for their photo, and that they stopped and said hello.
I was waiting for a friend near a land bridge in Hangzhou, China. It was my first time traveling outside of Shanghai since I have moved to abroad. We visited Hangzhou during the Spring Festival holiday, so it was particularly crowded and dense with people. Although to me, China always feels crowded and full. It was in the midst of this crowd, waiting for my friend, that I began to notice how much attention I was getting. Chinese people were pointing, laughing, asking me for my photo, and doing double takes as they passed me by. It was odd to be the center of so much attention simply because I did not fit in amongst the sea of people who did not look like me.
A sufi dancer twirls so fast it takes a camera lens to capture his face--something I couldn't see with my own eyes. A spotlight is the only thing that separates him from the night. Music pounds and people cheer, as if they might see a man spin so fast he'll fly.
I wonder how he remains upright. How he can remain stable when I get dizzy from rotating lethargically in a circle or two. Ten minutes pass and I get nauseous for him, just from watching.
Soon I put my camera away and start clapping, quietly wondering if this man is magic.
I was waiting for a bus in Rocinha, Brazil and sitting on a bench in front of an Elementary school, when this young girl came and sat beside me. She could only speak Portuguese, and I tried to use my broken Spanish in an attempt to communicate with her. I smiled as she showed me her pink rolling backpack, and was enchanted when she took off that tiny pink hat and plopped it onto my head. I snapped this picture of her right as my bus pulled up and I had to leave.
Celebrating the life and accomplishments of the famous tango sensation Carlos Gardel, these two tango singers dedicate a song to the deceased celebrity. Every year on the anniversary of Gardel’s death, June 24th, a group of Carlos Gardel impersonators and tango enthusiasts gather at the gravesite for a day filled with commemoration and reflection.
China's culture is the product of 5,000 years of history. Though many written works, sculptures, and architectural feats have been lost in centuries of development, Chinese Opera is one art form that shows no signs of becoming lost in the present wave of modernization.
Traditional Sichuan Opera is still alive and thriving in Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan Province. I had the opportunity to see a performance and arrived early to ensure I would get a good seat. After entering the classic pagoda-style theater, I grabbed my camera and started to go exploring. I found a room where the performers were preparing for the show.
Two lines of actors and actresses sat at a long table of mirrors doing their own hair and makeup. I found this very exciting and asked if I could take some photos, offering to send them to the troupe afterward. They readily agreed. In this photo, the woman is preparing her hair and makeup. Her expertise is shown in how the pink paint around her eyes fades so perfectly into white on the outer parts of her face. From the opposite side of the table, I knelt down to take a photo of this true artist from between two mirrors in the green room.
Astounded by how much money I have just given them for their homemade craft items, this family learns a new way of life. In the deforested land of Beritrova, Madagascar it is no longer possible to cut trees for charcoal production and the fires of slash-and-burn agriculture frequent the horizon. The Ankizy Fund was founded by paleontologists from Stony Brook University whom are helping this rural community near their excavation site. They have built schools, provided healthcare, clean water, and built craft stalls for the people outside of the site of a future dinosaur museum. On the grand opening day of the new business, the village discovers how much money their creativity can bring them as we feast and celebrate together.
The small community of Beritrova is scattered among the hills of a windy and deforested land in Western Madagascar. The main industry of the people was once logging for charcoal production and the elders remember the forest that they lived in sixty years ago. Now it is necessary to walk three days to find trees and fires rage throughout the night in the dry fields. The Ankizy Fund, a non-profit organization providing education, schools, and healthcare in rural areas of Madagascar was founded by a group of paleontologists. The isolation of this fourth largest island in the world from all other land forms allowed for an extremely high population of endemic wildlife, both living and pre-historic. The Ankizy Fund plans on building a museum in Beritrova and volunteers have been working with local people to help them develop alternative methods of income. Craft stalls outside the museum grounds were built and filled with beautifully woven dinosaur baskets and other artisan wares. An Umbi (Malagasy cow) lived in our campground for three days, until the opening of the craft stalls when a life fed a village and symbolized a new era of hope.
Each day the children became more comfortable with the forest as we embarked on daily nature walks together. During a scavenger hunt for forest wildlife, Nina brought me a spider that she had discovered. In Madagascar there are no deadly spiders or venomous snakes.
These young Himba girls are sitting in the shade of a tree which serves as the only shelter for their class at a mobile school in rural northern Namibia. It shows the struggles within the country to get equal and acceptable education to the people of rural Namibia. These two girls leave an impact because you look at them and you want them to succeed. You want them to have every opportunity to live their most unique dreams. But looking around at the conditions they have to learn, it is hard to imagine how they could have those opportunities. Meeting children like this and the teachers who work so hard to give them equal opportunities is incredibly inspiring.
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When Molefi Smiles, My life Gets Better by Jenna Cantwell
Johannesburg, South Africa
Molefi was one of the tour guides and a friend to our program who helped show us around Johannesburg and the neighboring townships. We adopted him as a member of our group and scrambled to spend as much time with him as possible. His innocent sense of humor and amazing smile made him a group favorite. In life sometimes we pas by people for a very brief and simple moment, but we are so impacted by them that we will never forget that moment. That is how Molefi is to our entire group. His smile is unforgettable.
People's Park is located centrally in the center of Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan province. Every day, people gather to this park to play chess, sing, see amateur performances, drink tea, or campaign for a mate. Campaigning includes parents typing up their unmarried children's 'credentials' -- height, weight, looks (no photos allowed), preferences for their mate, and, of course, contact information --and posting them on walls and benches for all to see.
Many Chinese come to see the 'market' and take a glimpse of the posted singles advertisements; grandparents, adolescents, and adults all come to critique and give opinions on these postings. It so happens that this activity also attracts those older men who wish to offer humorous criticism of what's happening around them.
These two friends sat on the ground and gave their own opinion not only on the postings, but also on those looking at the postings. As I was walking past, I heard them speak about my hair (it's red) and voice other comments I couldn't hear. Using Mandarin, I turned to them and asked what they said. They found this so amusing that both started giggling. They saw me pull out my camera and then asked me if I would take their photo. This shot accurately shows their happy and carefree mood on a sunny July day in the park.
I had been to Beijing many times, but had never visited the Olympic Park until August 2009. I stepped off the subway very excited to finally see these architectural achievements I'd seen so many times before on TV. To my chagrin, nearly every building was surrounded by fences because there was to be an anniversary football match played at the Bird's Nest that evening. By fluke, I was herded with some Chinese tourists into the restricted gated area around the stadium. Once I realized I was not supposed to be there, I rolled with the situation, resolute that if I was caught by the authorities, I would acknowledge it was an honest mistake, I would comply with them, and leave the area.
I was fortunate to spot these men (rented security guards for the evening) lining up to receive instructions. They found me very interesting, indeed, and laughed and talked about me (I know Chinese) as I took the opportunity to snap some shots of them. This photo is of one guard who kept looking in my direction, even as the 'drill sargent' was shouting directions at his troop to line up. I had the good luck of catching his face before he turned away.
A facebook message from an old coworker, probably meant with all sincerity but few expectations, had instilled in me a desire to visit her in the Himalayans. Beyond the community’s contours, McLeod Ganj boasts the seat of the Tibetan government in exile and residence of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. My parents had weighed in on the situation with scholarly citations of risk, stories of theft and appeals for safety; solo travel was not advisable. Words from a professor cemented my convictions: “Train travel?” He asked with a mock raised eyebrow, “I’m all for it.”
It’s Tibetan Uprising Day. I am awake before the sun, throwing myself into the shower to see a man with whom I share neither culture nor creed. While I know little, I am drawn in. The timid midwesterner in me had questioned being present for such a charged occasion, but the activist in me couldn’t resist.
I purchase the prerequisite Tibetan flag on my way to the temple. I stand in amongst the crowd, listening the Dalai Lama and leaning to my left to get a better view. He calls for the middle way and understanding between the peoples of China and Tibet. Other organizations, through a leaflet distributed after the speech do not. They write of freedom in all its purity.
Protesters gather before the temple gates and wave their flags. Snow lions whirl before a kaleidoscope of blue and red. Here there is no mention of the middle way; there is a distinct resolution in the air.
I could have pursued a spring break on Goa’s beaches with my classmates, but I made a different decision--one that left me painfully aware and politically decided. If this need is too distant in your life or the politics too foreign, I suggest two train tickets--the second ending in Pathankot--and a cheap taxi to Mcleod Ganj.
This photo is from Chwitziribal, an indigenous Mayan community of thirty families in the highlands of Guatemala. I lived with a host family, and this is a photo of my brother and sister.
One afternoon, I was playing outside with my little sister and their four puppies. My little brother walked up to us and started picking each puppy up with two fingers. My sister thought the situation was hysterical and placed one of the puppies on my brother's head. The next two hours were a laughing fit of babies and puppies crawling everywhere.
After living in Taiwan for three months, I've become accustomed to a culture that tends to avoid large bodies of water and most of the activities involved with it. Even mentioning the fact that I swam in a local lake evoked gasps from my students, one them so horrified as to say: "Teacher, you could die!" Growing up immersed in outdoor water sports, the Taiwanese view of swimming has taken me aback. When I stumbled upon the surf culture in a beach town called Jialeshui, I was comforted to find there are local Taiwanese who embrace the ocean. Rather than timid Taiwanese women who cover up from the sun to protect their white skin, I met kick-ass surfer girls who were darkened from the sun, yet still embodied a sense of femininity. Rather than Taiwanese men who would rather shop than hike, I found men who were more obsessed with catching waves than their next trend-setting outfit. An entirely different world, it seemed, on this small island.
This man on the beach with his surfboard stood out to me. I'm not sure why he was sitting there or what he was thinking about. That's what is so intriguing to me about this moment.
While hiking amongst the tea farms in the rural countryside of Taiwan, I came across this farmer. I saw him only from behind, and I thought to myself what a miserable time he must be having, working outside in the sweltering heat. As I walked down jagged stone path, I saw his face for the first time. He was beaming; I just remember he looked surprisingly blissful in his relaxed stance. I raised my camera to take a photo and he began to laugh. We exchanged nods, and I continued on my way. It's interesting how different he seemed from my prior assumption, before I even saw his face.
I snapped this photograph on a chaotic road in Kerala, a southern state in India. I was sitting in the back of a rattling Jeep, when I noticed a veiled lady framed against the bright, almost garish backdrop of a modern film poster. I unthinkingly snapped the picture, but later, the juxtaposition of her traditional garb and the modern billboard struck me. This clash between convention and modernity, a melding of global pop culture and convention, is one that modern India faces each day. I was further struck by her determined forward-looking expression, representative of India as a whole.
Every other day, Colca Canyon resident Cristina walks three miles through the ruggedly beautiful Andean landscape with her mule, Mario, to get to the pasture where her cows graze.
In a local restaurant in the tiny town of Rio Limpio, D.R., we were treated to traditional bachata by a local group of musicians. They weren't a band, and they'd never studied at a university or learned how to read sheet music. But if anyone doubted their love for music and their status as "musicians," this shot of their performance would make them think twice, while the actual performance would erase any lingering doubt.
Buenos Aires has long been recognized as a hosting a melting pot of cultures. Immigrants have long ventured from all over the world to the appeal and allure associated with the "Paris of South America." Likewise, the large metropolitan city attracts many residents from the interior of Argentina. Known as "gauchos," many Argentines from the North part of the country have moved to Buenos Aires to seek out the opportunities that a big city can provide.
Mataderos, a small barrio of Buenos Aires, has become a community heavily populated by such Gauchos. The neighborhood is home to a weekly fair with Northern bands and traditional dancing. This fair is seldom visited by tourists, and thus, this man dances in the street simply for pure enjoyment.
It wasn't quite midnight when this man was conversing with the restaurant owners and licking his lips as he ate falafel, a typical street food available even during late hours in Israel and all over the Middle East. I loved how the light coming from the hole-in-the-wall falafel/shawarma place picked this man out of the darkness of the rest of the street as he glanced my way.
In Rajasthan, India, local women wear brightly colored saris to contrast the desert landscape. This picture was taken (with permission) in the ancient city of Jaisalmer India, one of Rajasthan's most important cities and an important stop along the fabled Silk Road. Today, Jaisalmer is a must-see for backpackers hoping to hop a camel safari into the nearby Thar desert, one of the last remaining vestiges of this romanticized way of life. The irony is that in India, despite its allure to Western travelers, foriegners are considered the novelty and groups often gather to observe us with frank curiousity. This colorful group has assembled to watch my companion and I catch the sunset atop the fort wall. To me, this picture is a reminder that no matter how beautiful we consider these women and their children, it's the unknown that's often exotic.
A young student with his grandmother explaining the difficulties of living a modern and traditional life. He explained the process of going to elders for permission to go to school in Arusha. He spoke perfect English and wore a watch while his grandmother merely stared at us, the visitors.
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Reykjavik Lady and her dog with a "cone of shame" by Vince Stavale
Reykjavik, Iceland
While not the most stunning or well centered picture I've ever taken, this picture is still one of my favorites that I took while on a 13 day trip to Iceland in late May of 2009.
Just seconds before I snapped this picture, I'd been sitting outside a photo store my two traveling companions were checking out and snapping some pictures of a stray cat that had decided to take a seat right in front of me. After capturing some pictures of the cat that for some reason had a fleeting interest in me and my camera, I looked up (and was startled by) this crazy golden dog with an anti-itching cone around it's neck barreling toward the cat, barking it's head off and nearly tripping over the cone. Seconds later, this Icelandic woman, all decked out in a bright red dress and black spandex came careening down the sidewalk after her comically adorned canine.
The cat ran away, and the woman grabbed her dog and explained to me that the cat was always in her plants, and that she didn't mind it when he ran off after it. (He wasn't going very far with a cone around his neck)
Laughing out loud at this silly incident that I'd just experienced in the middle of the day in Reykjavik, I looked down at my camera to see that I'd accidentally snapped a few pictures of the woman and her dog. The dog's sudden barking must have startled me and as I turned in the direction of the noise my finger hit the shutter...
Crouching feet from a busy street in Ho Chi Minh City, a repairman attends to one of the ubiquitous motorbikes found throughout the city. Skin works steel to keep one cog of the crowded machinery of a bustling city moving.
He gave me a confused look as I peered through my lens at him. He laughed a little and then stared back at me with a smile - his eyes piercing through the camera. It was only later that I learned my sad attempt at asking this man to "please smile" in Khmer translated to "wet smile" - thus his confusion, followed by his smile at me - a foreigner with a camera trying to speak his language.
He is the chef of the Cambodian village I was visiting in the Anlong Veng region. One leg lost to a mine explosion in the forest - all to common of a story in this area. His wife taught me how to weave baskets to catch fish. And my travel partner spoke with a translator as we began learn and record their story.
Residents of Lamu, Kenya watch a swimming race during Maulidi, a festival celebrating the birthday of the prophet Muhammad. I love how virtually every space on every object on the water is filled with spectators.
