The Sacred on Earth

Am I establishing a pattern? Did I only take pictures of or from churches, abbeys, and cathedrals in Ecuador? Nay and nay I say to either accusation. I will, however, accept fault for being atrocious at landscape photography. Because of my as yet limited skill set, and because the ubiquitous Ecuadorian religious building yields rich and expressive imagery, I have deemed such images as the most worthy for posting.

Here we find two angels standing in pious guard on a warm, lacquered door of this church in Banos, Ecuador. Their solemn dignity is surpassed only by the Quichua mother quietly waiting to meet her son after completing the days shopping.

This is a case of a “happy mistake”: I remember snapping this photo only because I thought the door was beautiful, giving little heed to the woman standing beside it. Only later did I realize I was beholding not two, but three angels in this image.

Though I typically would not dream of limiting the feminine exclusively to angelic iconography, I feel this photo hints at the quiet, sacred splendor of women and motherhood.

Banos (Spanish for ‘bath’) is a resort town, nestled into a crook in the slope of the volcano Tungurahua. It is famed in Ecuador and abroad for its hot springs, waterfalls, day spas, and cuy. What is cuy, you ask? Google it.

We only spent a day and one night here, but it is far and away the most relaxing experience I’ve had abroad. Massages are only $25 for an hour – a fraction of what masseurs and masseuses demand in the states. Plus it was an excellent treatment for an aching body, earned from biking along the slopes of the surrounding mountains through waterfalls and tunnels. Tunnels which were unlit, pitch black and the bikers shared with highway traffic – including freight trucks: I don’t think I knew the meaning of terror before that.

But I digress, after a terrifying day of cycling exertion, the $25 hour long Shiatsu massage was exactly what the doctor ordered. Our deep muscle treatments were followed by tasty dining at Cafe Hood and the day (or night) was topped off with drunken revelry at a local dance bar with a wandering dog.

--The Journagraphist

P.S. On a technical note: I was too generous with the cropping, wasn't I? I left extra headroom to enhance how the structure dwarfs the woman, but I probably should have tightened up the sides. Let me know what you think.

Lettucehead Livelihood

Out of all the pictures I’ve taken thus far, this is among my favorites. It may not be spectacular. It’s certainly not even close to professional league in quality and composition. But it is definitely charming.

I’m not sure exactly what is going on in this scene. My friends and I were visiting a village in rural Bangladesh with a Gonoshasthaya Kendra Paramedic, and we were on our way to meet a traditional midwife. As we weaved through rice paddies, determined to maintain our balance on the rail thin ridges of dirt that separated fields, I noticed this procession of ambling shrubbery.

In contrast to our struggle to stay on the ridge-paths, this group of village natives were speeding along the same tracks without a thought to balance.

I watched as they as they marched busily and easily along, their massive bundles of leaves rustling and fluttering with each step. The field and the surrounding trees were such a vibrant viridian, suddenly punctuated with a burst of teal, orange, and red forms drifting over the stalks of rice plants – I just had to capture the moment.

To take a stab at anthropology, I think the leaves are meant to be dried and used as fuel for cooking. I noticed hillocks of dried leaves on bamboo stands – 1 or 2 per house – from which homestead cooks would draw their fuel supply.

--The Journagraphist