I was going to write my Marrakech post today. In fact, I should have written it yesterday, or the day before yesterday when we were still there. Before I sprained my ankle on one last invisible stair. Before I lost momentum.
We are in Essaouira right now and we don’t want to leave. We’re not ready to go back to Shanghai in a few days. My poor purple monstrosity of a foot is also reluctant to go. Fifteen or so hours in transit just sounds dreadful.
So I’m going to distract myself.
You see, I suddenly got nominated (twice!) to enter a photography contest for travellers- (thank you and thank you). The idea is that you post five photos, one for each colour being judged: blue, green, yellow, white and red.
I realized, after much combing through old albums, that I don’t do much with green or yellow. I have way too much red. Nothing is really ever white.
I shall try.
Let’s start with the bluest of the blue: Chefchaouen, Morocco. It’s, well, blue. We were there last week… or maybe it was the week before that. I’m losing track of time. This photo was taken on one of my solitary morning walks, while Doug was sick in our room. The whole town was closed for Ramadan during the day. It was me and the cats, for the most part. Hot, quiet, deserted.
I have very few green photos. Maybe we don’t go to enough green places. We really ought to. This one was taken a few years ago when we spent a month in Myanmar during the monsoon season. It was very green. Very hot. Very humid. Very calm. Frequently, we were the only travellers in town. This one was from our time in Moulmein (spelling varies). This is, you might glean, a gas station.
In Yangon, in the heat of summer, a monk walked by with a golden brolly at the sacred Shwedagon Paya.
Alternate yellow…(Just because I am indecisive)
I admit, I’m stretching the boundaries of colour a bit for this one, mainly because it’s one of my favourite photos. It was taken a few years ago in the Tibetan district of Chengdu, in Sichuan province, China. See the little bit of yellow tarp on the cart, all bunched up? That’s the yellow. Mostly I just like the look on the guy who is looking directly at the camera. Also, there are mops.
Another Burmese photo, this one somewhere in a tiny, tiny village near Bagan, accessible only by river boat. Not even a village, really- a 2-man monastery. The monk in the front is waiting to die. He stopped eating and drinking. The monk behind him is keeping him company for the duration. He made us tea. We chatted.
I have better white photos but I have a strange fondness for this one which I took at a Saturday flea market at the back end of the medina in Marrakech, far from the tourist attractions. This was a market by and for Moroccans and you can see its marvellous utilitarianism: blenders! Not pretty painted plates or Berber cloths or whatnot. Just blenders. Also some portable grills, mismatched shoes, used t-shirts. It was around 10am and already 45 degrees outside.
Also, some runners-up that I wanted to use but decided against.
I’m nominating the following 5 people to enter their amazing photos.
1. Sally of Unbrave Girl
3. Jeannie of Nomadick Chick
4. Fiona of Nanchanglu