Fresh organic Guatemalan coffee, French toast, Ravi Shankar and the NY Times……I can’t think of a better way to indulge a Sunday morning…..
Yes, we are really suffering here.
Lhasa is definitely not the harshest or most barren city I’ve ever been in. (That’s a tough call between Kigali, Rwanda; Kabul, Afghanistan; and Peshawar, Pakistan). Far from it honestly. As I am discovering, there is more here than meets the eye (or only on the tourist circuit). This is a medium sized Chinese city (can we say colonization?) with super highways; railroads (coming soon); internet cafes with high speed; more bars than I think Athens has; its own beer brewery; a bowling alley (still closed until ‘high’ season); a movie theater (with both Holly and Bollywood movies); several high class super markets (with everything from yak jerky to Chips Ahoy); two really fancy spas/hair salons (perms, colorings, eyebrow or lip laser adjustments and of course the cut & wash); two very popular rock bands every Saturday night; the ever present Ngang-Ma karaoke bars; too many restaurants to count anymore (including two totally vegetarian – fake meat and all!); a large sports complex with several football (soccer to you American heathens) fields, basketball courts, a gym and an indoor heated swimming pool; a Nike store; an Addidas store; a Vera Moda store; three entire blocks dedicated to computer stores (IBM, Dell, HP, Sony, Compaq); a Tibetan TV station; a Tibetan radio station; a thriving black market (money, dogs, bicycles, construction or restaurant equipment, you name it…); several high rise all glass buildings (all dedicated to the Police of course); a concrete factory; a meat processing plant; thousands of greenhouses scattered throughout the outskirts; and of course a complex, pervasive, blanketing array of CCTV cameras, microphones and plains clothes agents ‘protecting and serving’.
Obviously there are many traditional and historical aspects to this place as well. There is the spiritual and symbolic heart of Tibet, the Jokhang Temple. It is a living breathing temple that still holds profound relevance for the people and the devout. There are the many monasteries in Lhasa – Drepung, Sera and Ramoche being the three largest and most famous. They are unfortunately hollow, empty shells of what they once were. Drepung, for example, housed over 10,000 monks at one point in time! Now, there are maybe 800. The Barkhor, the circular kora route around the Jokhang, has become a haven for trinket and fake antique merchants. And as I’ve said before, there is the icon of all Tibet: the Potala.
Leigh and I went for my first visit yesterday morning. I must say that it is much more impressive from the outside. Whereas the Jokhang is a living place with an energy and vitality that is palatable the moment you enter its doors, the Potala is dead, museum-ized (and not in a good way). Dust and stale air and very unfriendly minders are what greet the guest at the door. Making our way through the established tourist trail, we enter dark, dank temples, one after another. Most unused and unloved. “No Photo Taking” signs were on every wall. Cameras were in every hallway. Some of the temple rooms, or khangs, have plain clothes monks giving the same emotionless speeches they give everyday to every new Chinese tour group that comes in the room (and there are a lot of groups!). Many of the rooms where locked or closed because of renovations so we really only got to see half of the ‘normal’ tour. Of course they didn’t tell us this at the bottom of the long, steep hill at the ticket office! I was honestly depressed. I don’t know if I had my hopes up or what, but I just walked away sad. Grieved by the course of history, saddened by stupidity and blindness, depressed by the seeming unrepentant and greedy nature of those in charge currently, disappointed by the total lack of upkeep and care given to this ‘museum’ of a cultural relic. And this is a UNESCO World Heritage Site!!!
(Not that there is really any upkeep or care given to any of the historical or culturally important sites here….nor is there much love or upkeep given to anything really. Seems that there is more interest in building something quickly and cheaply and then when it breaks or falls down, just to build a new one quickly and cheaply).
I complain but it is still an incredibly fascinating place. I am especially interested (and have begun a long term photo project) on the rapid, obvious and enveloping modernization of Tibet and Lhasa in particular. There doesn’t seem to be a shortage of good subjects and interesting juxtapositions. I would like to turn a couple shorter essays out of it to pass along to a couple magazines, but I believe that ultimately it will become a book. After noticing that there is absolutely nothing in the way of photo books on modern Tibet. Everyone is still seemingly romantically involved with Tibet and doesn’t want to see the warts on its face. All the books I’ve seen are about monks, Buddhism and pretty scenes. Yes, Tibet has all of that. Yes, that is a part of Tibet. But is that what I see? No. Is that even close to what I see everyday? No. This project will be beneficial to both me and the general public. Why? For me, I am getting back to my first love of photography – street photography. There is obviously more to it than just street photography. There is portrait, landscape, night, etc. But most days I just have my camera and walk around and record as honestly and creatively what I see. It’s so much fun! Working with CARE, there was very little room, if any, for street photography. This was perfect for I needed to learn and develop other processes, other techniques – documentary and portrait being the two most utilized. So I am grateful for the opportunity they gave me to help increase my skills where I seemed to be lacking. Now, however, I am free to explore the city, this country on my own terms with my own vision without any restrictions (besides the obvious working in China – no bridges, no military, no police, no important buildings, etc). This has been liberating and paralyzing at the same time. Right now I don’t have anyone telling me what to do. It might be the most agreeable but when someone tells you what to do, or gives you an assignment, that is easy. You have a clearly defined goal. The process to get to the end might not be simple or easy, but you know what you’re going for. On my own, I have to give myself assignments, give myself goals. This is incredibly difficult. Not only to I have to give myself an assignment, but then I have to go out and complete it. Without the fear of retribution or failure for pay, this is tough. I think the word I’m looking for is motivation. Maybe with a little passion stirred in for spice.
To this end, I spent the last few weeks searching for a good translator. Someone who can speak Tibetan and Chinese and English with a good deal of fluency. This was more difficult than I thought it would be. I would find someone who could speak one or two of the languages well but not the third. All three here are especially important. But finally, about a week and a half ago, I found a Tibetan jewel. I’ll call him JY. How I found him was pure luck as well. I wasn’t even trying to find him….he found me. I was posting little advertisements around the city in the local tea houses and restaurants looking for Chinese and Tibetan portrait subjects (I also want to do a “Faces of Tibet” portrait project). I spend many days getting the translations of my English ad into Mandarin and Tibetan. Finally, when everyone thought it read well and made sense, I started to post them at many different spots around town. This was of course against the regulations of the Environmental Committee here, but I didn’t know and they didn’t catch me so who’s hurt, right? Anyway, in one of the biggest and most famous teahouses, I was asking to put up my sign and there was great discussion about it at the manager’s table. Finally they consented and after I taped it to the wall a young man who was sitting at the same table as the manager came up to me and asked if I was looking for a guide. When I initially answered ‘No, I’m looking for subjects for my portraits”, I realized that this could be the translator break I was looking for. So I corrected myself and we started to talk. He turns out to be fluent in Tibetan and very good in Chinese and English. Perfect! Turns out he is from ‘outside’ and came back only a couple years ago. Very interesting young man and very easy to work with. He is dependable, friendly, and attentive. What more could I ask for? So, finally, after 4 weeks of looking, I have found my translator!
Now with my trusty sidekick, JY, at my side, I felt much more free and able to explore some of the more interesting aspects to the modernization project. These have included the fancy hair salons/spas, the supermarkets, the boutiques and greenhouses as well as some of the more traditional aspects of Tibet that I wish to use as contrast, such as the Jokhang and the Barkhor. Currently we are discussing some out of town locations. His ability has really opened up the doors to many different things and the nominal fee he asks is well worth it.
I just had an interesting (and very disturbing) experience this afternoon. Leigh and I were invited to the grand re-opening of a modern Tibetan art gallery that is on the Barkhor. After picking up our r/t tickets from Lhasa to Hong Kong (so we can fly back to the States for my sis’s wedding) and a yummy Nepali set meal at the recently re-opened Snowland Restaurant, we were walking by the entrance of the Jokhang, which on every day of the year is crowded with prostraters and pilgrims. But not today. And when we went to investigate there were several uniformed PSB (Police Security Bureau) officers telling the remaining few pilgrims to leave. This was a very unusual but we didn’t inquire and moved on to the gallery. The gallery is located on the kora around the Jokhang, or Barkhor, and has a wonderful view from the roof of the kora route. It is a very nice perspective to look down, seemingly unobserved, on the constant flow of foot traffic below. Well, when we got there and sat down, Leigh began to socialize with all the artists there (in Tibetan). So without a translator and not wanting to bog down the flow of words between her and her friends, I drifted over to the edge of the rooftop café and had a look around. To my interest, there as a somewhat large group of officers and plain clothes standing in a semi-circle in the front of some shop down from the gallery. This caused great traffic jams as the hundreds of devotees tried to squeeze their way past the human wall. As I watched absentmindedly and realized that the reason for all the security and removal of the prostraters was there was some VIP from Beijing who had come for a visit. And it was like the President had arrived or something. Anyway, before I knew what was happening, a uniformed officer and a plain clothed agent had climbed to the top of the gallery and were pushing me back from the edge basically yelling at me in Tibetan. Of course there was a scene because I really didn’t appreciate being pushed around and couldn’t understand what they were saying, but out of respect for the artists and guests (not many as it was basically snowing), I relented and moved back. Then they left and everybody calmed down again. But it was absolutely amazing how utterly anxious and quiet everyone (except me I guess) on that roof became when the officers were there. It was a stark and poignant reminder of how this country is run (brute force, intimidation, fear) who runs the country (the military – it certainly isn’t anything close to a democracy) and how trustful the higher ups of the ‘common man’. Not that the US or any country is any better for that matter, but I am here and experiencing things here. It is a real shame. Government by the people for the people? Where? How? Have you seen what’s happening in Nepal? What a fucking mess!
Something like this always makes me wonder what I would have done in 1774 or 1775 when the country was in turmoil and revolution seemed inevitable…..
So I would like to whine for just a second about my ‘work’…..or total lack there of! You all are my friends and family and what I say is said in trust. Here’s the circle of trust and you’re in the middle of it. I think I’m a good photographer. One of the better ones if I can be a little modest. I have a talent. I am pretty good at what I do. I feel my images are strong, interesting, and sometimes even beautiful. So why have I not found an assignment yet? Why is it that there are plenty of jobs to be given but no one has thought of me for one? It is really kind of frustrating and discouraging. There are days where I think that things will turn around tomorrow or the next day or even the next. Something has to happen soon, right? But then there are many days where I just have to wonder what the fuck I’m doing. Am I wasting my time? Is this what I should be doing? Can I support a family (or even myself) with my photography? Should I get back into editing? Should I go to grad school and get a Master’s? Should I teach? What the hell am I supposed to do? Why can’t I get a bone from anyone? Why do I feel like I have to prove anything to anyone? Why do I feel a serious lack of motivation? Yes, I’m working on this major project. I go out probably 4-6 hours a day to search for photographs to include. Maybe I don’t go out everyday. Maybe I don’t get up out of bed until 9 or even 10 in the morning (have I mentioned the time zone thing here totally fucked up). It’s not like I really know what I’m doing on the business side of photography. I can take a photo. But can I run a business? Can I advertise myself effectively? Can I hope to make a name for myself in a market that is totally saturated with good talent and more aggressive, suave business photogs?
I have to confess that self doubt still runs strong in this boy’s mind and it sucks! I’m sure that I’m too hard on myself and am my own worst critic, but I’ve been out of the States now for almost 4 months now and have only gotten a couple minor nibbles on jobs. True, I have not been chasing ambulances or riots or throwing myself recklessly into the throngs of demonstrators in Nepal. True, I am not pursuing stories here and completing them (for one, I am still trying to skirt the whole ‘journalist’ label here – very sketchy and possibly dangerous to be thought of as one here; for another, there aren’t many ‘stories’ that would a) appeal to the mass international market, b) open for coverage here). I feel hobbled by my lack of language skills and dependence on translators, my wife included. I feel overwhelmed by the pressure of ‘making it’, of being successful – whatever that is. And I think most debilitating is my impatience. I want the world and I want it now! Sound familiar? And sometimes, like right now, I feel like a spoiled little American brat who is never satisfied with what he’s got and is always looking for more, more, more.
I just don’t know. Some days I feel fine about all this and some days I do not. I wanted to take this risk and quit a good job and take this adventure by the horns and try my hand at freelance photography for I truly believe that if you do not take the chance then the question of what if and the accompanying regrets will gnaw away at the soul the rest of your days. Take the chance! Live the life! Run with the bulls and if you get trampled, at least you’ll have a good story to go with that limp. But fuck…...this is hard. It’s lonely. It’s frustrating. It’s a lot of hard work. Not that I thought this would be easy, but I did kind of think I’d have at least one assignment by now. The goal by the end of this year is to have 6 but right now it’s not looking so good. I would feel fortunate to get in 3 now. If nothing else, and I never get an assignment at all, then I’ll still come home (whenever that happens) with one hell of a kick ass portfolio, a whole lot of world experience and possibly even a book…..if you ask me, any of those are worth more than a few measly dollars anyway.
I definitely didn’t help my chances of getting work by deciding that I do not want to work for the picture agency, Polaris. In case you don’t know the story already, back in October I went to New York and had interviews and portfolio reviews with several different magazines and a couple different picture agencies. Both of them wanted to represent me (talk about an ego boost!) but I had to choose one. After a couple months of deliberation and discussion with other photographers, I went with Polaris and agreed to send them images from stories, etc while over in Asia. And they agreed to send me assignments if something came up. Well, within a few days of arriving in Nepal (beg of Feb) they contacted me and wanted me to go cover the protests that at that time were only beginning to cause a ripple in the world news. I have never been interested in the ‘hard news’ type of photography, and when I talked with them in New York I thought that I had made myself clear about what I was going to be doing. Demonstrations, riots, police crackdowns and the like were not my plan, nor my desire. Nonetheless, this was the time to do new things and branch out into new fields, to push myself in new directions, right? I actually wrote a brief stream about this experience but never published it for fear of scaring the wits out of our family but I think I should attach it here (Mom…Dad….cover your eyes) –
February 1st, 2006 – Kathmandu
Leigh and I went to a rally today at New Road in Kathmandu (bad idea #1). Gotta say it was pretty upsetting and powerful experience. It was a new experience as well. It became clear to me early on in the rally that there is a difference b/t photography and photojournalism. And today it was obvious I do not want to be a photojournalist. Basically I was running around, not really running but kind of observing more than anything, taking a few shots here and there (nothing I’m really proud of, nothing that’s really any good). As this is a new start for me this year, it is a year to try new things and this was something I wanted to try – more hard news, more photojournalism, and more international press type of photography. I also wanted to see first hand the state of affairs in the country I’m staying in. Seems like there’s a protest or rally everyday and there’s a picture on the front page of The Himalayan Times everyday. Leigh wanted to join me (against my objections), but she insisted on coming and was interested to see for herself too. So we made our way down to New Road casually, leaving plenty of time to get down there and walk around, waiting for something to happen. There were a whole lot of police in their blue camouflage, and I mean twice or three times more than we have seen any day previous (as these protests are announced and usually grace the front page of the papers, the police know where and when things are going to happen). They were congregating around the major road intersections, especially the entrance and end of New Road. New Road is a very short paved road in the heart of Kathmandu. At one end you have the Durbar Square, or old square, where the King and his court used to have residence and now is one of the major historical (and therefore touristy) areas of the country. The other end intersects at a T with Kanthi Path, a major artery for the inner sections of the city. So this is a very short section of road that basically dead ends at either end. There are a few minor side streets branching off of New Road and these lead to the narrow, crowded alleys that maze their way throughout KTM. So Leigh and I kind of walked up and down the road for about an hour, putzing our way around, waiting for things to happen. The rally was scheduled for 3:30 and at around 3:45 with still nothing happening, we decided to visit a rooftop café at the Durbar Square end of New Road. From this high vantage we could see virtually all the way down to the other end of New Road and of course as soon as we ordered our drink I had the gut feeling something was about to happen and I should get down there now. Brushing aside the feeling (always a bad idea because the gut is almost never wrong), I sat and waited for our soda to arrive. And sure enough, as soon as it did, there was quite a large commotion down on the street at one of the minor road intersections with New Road. (Later we were to find out that corner is the place for political gossip in the city, so it only makes sense that things erupted at that appropriate spot). It seemed to be a fairly spontaneous start to the rally as Leigh and I had walked by that same corner several times just minutes before. As soon as I saw the shooting masses and other press people running down the street to the scene, I dashed down the steps to go do what I didn’t know, photograph it I guess, leaving poor Leigh to pay the bill and try to find me in the chaos (bad idea #2). Oh, and I’m running into the face of unknown danger without having equipment insurance and without having confirmation on my medical insurance (bad idea #3). Needless to say the day was full of dumb, rash ideas – it will be the theme of the day. We didn’t have a coordinated plan or a meeting point if things got hairy, which they did. When I arrived at the scene, I was actually surprised to see so many press people and photographers, both still and video. I don’t know why I was thinking that somebody wouldn’t be assigned to Nepal or the political troubles specifically but for some naïve reason I didn’t think Nepal would be that important to the international press. With some 20 or so photojournalists and video journalists there and about that many writers, I stopped and watched a very grotesque circus-like theater develop before me between the protesters, the police and the press. Between scattered, disruptive groups (there was no one large protest or group marching in one direction) shouting slogans and such, there was always a smaller yet more visible group of fluorescent yellow vested photojournalists hovering around the most animated or vocal enclaves like vultures or jackals smelling blood from a wounded, near dead animal. They would literally chase down the street the story, the image. It is very difficult for me to describe accurately all that was happening, all that I was seeing, and all that I was feeling during these hectic, frenetic moments. The whole thing seemed like a spectacle. It didn’t seem to me to be a very organized rally because the groups were small, there was no discernable direction they walked and there were no apparent leaders. But as events progressed and the police there on the scene became more aggressive, this flexible and organic system seemed to protect the protesters most effectively. As the police would come in and break up one group, the members of that group would split up and melt into the surrounding crowds. Then when the police were moving off to chase another group, that previously dispersed group would coalesce once more to form a strong nucleus of shouting protesters. And in this way the large crowd that was watching would become amused and laugh like it was a joke and the police would become more frustrated and angry at being mocked and taunted. It was this tense, strangely amusing game of cat and mouse for awhile. It really didn’t seem that serious for the longest time. There were Human Rights Watchers present, wearing their blue vests. There were UN staff, not soldiers, there with their light blue vests (one of which I watched eat her lunch while this was all going on…so strange). The police had their padded riot gear vests on. Then there were the press with their yellow vests. Boy, I really felt left out of the vest game! In fact, there was this one photojournalist who came walking by me with his climbing helmet on, oversized hip bags dangling from his waist, his two cameras yoked around his neck and his yellow vest on with a printed paper saying “PRESS” taped to his back. And as he came by me, he asked me in what I think was a British accent, “Is that new?” indicating my camera. Confused by his question, I asked him what he was talking about. To which he replied, “It looks like its right out of the box”. I then realized he wasn’t talking about the camera at all, but me. It was as if he was asking me whether or not I was in the right place. Of course if this is what he meant, then he is obviously an asshole. Was it a hazing? A teasing? An accusation of being green behind the ears? Regardless, the spectacle of the press interacting with the protesters and police and the relationship they seemed to have in this food chain, to me was fairly gross. The strength of that feeling surprised me. And I was relieved to feel that way. I was relieved to know that I didn’t like what I was seeing, nor did I want to be a part of it or have people like that British press photographer as my work colleagues. How does this leave me feeling about press? I still distrust them and still think they are vultures and too opportunistic. I still feel like I did back in 1993 when I took Journalism 101 at UGA and when we hit the section on sensationalism my interested in journalism died. I am not the type of person, nor do I ever want to be, who can coldly handle a camera when death, grief, heartbreak, terror, fear or pain are in the viewfinder. I am not the type of person who could work in a war zone, risking my life for what could hopefully be my next career making picture. I feel that international media works for propaganda, whose depends on the situation. I feel that generally the press (or media, the words are interchangeable) only increases or continues stereotypes. I feel that generally the press is only focused on disasters, death, conflict and negative events. Are most international press photographers adrenaline junkies, looking for the next reckless rush? Probably. Do the media serve a purpose? Yes. If the international media (the Nepali media are repressed and censored in heavy handed, dirty ways presently) were not there, who’s to say that the police wouldn’t have used guns instead of just batons to break up the rally? If it were not for media, then world leaders would not be held accountable for their actions (at least before the corporate takeover of journalism this was the case). Yes, there seems to be a place for media, but that place has become corrupted and twisted and now seems to be more monstrous and harmful than beneficial. Let those who choose that path walk it the best and most conscientious way they know how, and I will walk my path as a humanitarian-documentary-travel-human-interest-story photographer. The question of whether or not I ‘had what it takes’ to be a hard news press photographer was never really a question for me. I have always known that I don’t. Listening to my heart, I have always been more attracted to the beauty in the world, not the ugly. And that’s what I want to share to my viewers. Today was a strong confirmation of all this: it’s not me nor do I want it to be me – some hard skinned, cynical, aggressive, rude photographer running from bad news to bad news. Anyway, watching the press during the rally was almost more fascinating than watching the rally itself! Maybe I could do a story on the press? Burn all my bridges everywhere! Today’s events have left me confused in some ways and also somewhat depressed. As the rally continues, I eventually filter into the middle of things and start shooting some pictures. I felt like I had to do this to see for myself and experience it directly: do I have what it takes or will I like doing this? The images I was making were all uncomfortable and clichéd. I don’t feel strongly about any of them really and I think the discomfort and inexperience shows in them. At one point there was a police truck that was trying to make its way through the crowd when someone from the crowd threw a brick and smashed the front window. And there were the journalists, all over it; like now things were really starting to heat up and things were getting more intense. Eventually there were a couple of police baton charges where they run at the group swinging their batons at anyone who is Nepali (they carefully avoided the international press people and only abused their own). There were several hundred people there, not all of them actively demonstrating. Waving flags, shouting slogans, throwing pamphlets. With the tension mounting and the police getting more aggressive, Leigh and I should have left. Neither one of us was comfortable nor is it not like this was some Nepal tourist destination. Hey, instead of going trekking, we’re going to the rally today! But with some sort of gross fascination, I wanted to keep watching. I think that deep down I wanted something more dramatic to happen and I was soon to be granted this wish. It soon became obvious that the police were starting to move methodically down the street from the Kanthi Path intersection down towards the Durbar Square intersection, chasing people down the side alleys and trying to systematically disperse the crowd. They also started to use water hoses from the fire trucks to push people back. Thinking I could get some images of that scene, I started to walk towards that end with Leigh much farther behind me (bad idea #4). As we approached the police turned the hose on the crowd and then as the water subsided, they charged with their batons swinging. And the crowd Leigh and I were in, turned en masse and started running the other way, almost sweeping me away. Sadly, it did sweep Leigh away. She was seeking shelter in one of the side alleys (bad idea #5) when this stampede of people ran into her, knocking her down and with it her 500$ camera fell to the street where it was promptly stepped on my several feet and broken. Luckily, the crowed did not step on Leigh at all and she managed to narrowly escape serious injury. When she found me a few minutes later and I saw her ashen face and that she was visibly shaken, she told me what happened, showed me the bused camera, her bleeding knees, and it was only then did we finally scramble out of there. My shame was very great at having put my wife in such danger. It also made me very angry at myself. How could I have been so rash, so stupid, so naïve, so blind, so irresponsible to the serious danger I was putting both of us in by coming down her for mere curiosity, for mere show, for a personal experiment? For shame Jason, for shame. What else did you expect was going to happen at a forcibly suppressed political rally? I was upset with myself, I was upset with her. At that point, the game was definitely over and we left the area as fast as we could. The scene was only going to get more violent and aggressive and after reading the paper the next day our fears proved true.
So….that was that. And to think it’s only gotten worse these days. After such a powerful and potentially dangerous reminder, I wrote Polaris the next day with my apologetic but firm refusal to do anything of the sort again. I was actually quite poetic about it – “I do not wish to propagate the ugliness in this world as there is already too much of it in print and on the screen. I believe in the beauty of Life and that is what I will focus my energy on”. There reply the next day was honest and expected – “While we can understand and respect where you are coming from, you are not viable to us unless you are willing to cover such things.” Not viable. Ouch. I appreciated their honesty and not beating around the bush, but BAM...I just shot myself in the foot. And all for morals, ethics and an idealistic conscience….sometimes I tell you, it ain’t easy being a granola crunching, tree hugging, patchouli wearing, long haired, peace loving, hippie nature boy!
Speaking of which…..Happy Earth Day everyone! Reduce, reuse, and recycle.
Anyway, enough depressing talk about work. All work and no play, right? Let’s talk about some fun stuff for a second….
Our complicated and overly expensive plan right now is to come back to the States in less than a month now and stay for about 6 weeks. I think I’ll visit the in laws in Indiana and North Carolina (after all Leigh is coming all the way back basically for my sister’s wedding) and then hop, skip and jump over the small hill in Colorado called the Rockies for a 2 week camping reunion with my ‘rado friends. Then on to the nation’s capital, which I still have not experienced in my entire world travels if you can believe it! Then we will come back to Tibet in July. We’ll stay for a couple months on a tourist visa entertaining the few adventurous friends we have coming to visit (CAN”T WAIT!!!). Then in August I will join one of those hardy explorers (and one of my best friends) for part of her round the world journey. Right now it looks like we’ll head from here to SE Asia – Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos and then on to Indonesia for some good island hopping. If anyone has recommendations for anything in this SE Asia area (guesthouses, beaches, temples, whatever….please send them on!). She is then heading on to New Zealand, which is on my top 2 places I’d like to go in the world…..but the timing might now work because I need to meet Leigh back in (probably) Beijing around the middle or end of September when we will enter China again and head to Tibet, but this time on the official Fulbright visa (at least she will, we’re still not sure about me which leads to a whole slew of questions about where I’ll be and what I’ll do then). Then in October, 2 or 3 of Leigh’s best friends are planning on coming out to visit. Ironically they are friends that she met while on her year long stay in Nepal 10 years ago, so in essence a 10 year Himalaya reunion! How fun! And with those wonderful women, we have plans to travel to western Tibet and do the very difficult but life changing circumambulation of Mount Kailash (holiest mountain for both Tibetan Buddhism and Hinduism). After that, sometime in late October, after all our visiting friends leave, the real buckle down work for Leigh should begin and we’ll spend the winter and spring in China/Tibet…..
What will I do then? We’ll see. But I’m sure it will involve me, my camera and my idealism….wouldn’t have it any other way….
Oh yeah….by the way…..we’re looking at puppies these days…..
Fresh organic Guatemalan coffee, French toast, Ravi Shankar and the NY Times……I can’t think of a better way to indulge a Sunday morning….. 
Obviously there are many traditional and historical aspects to this place as well. There is the spiritual and symbolic heart of 
Leigh and I went for my first visit yesterday morning. I must say that it is much more impressive from the outside. Whereas the Jokhang is a living place with an energy and vitality that is palatable the moment you enter its doors, the Potala is dead, museum-ized (and not in a good way). Dust and stale air and very unfriendly minders are what greet the guest at the door. Making our way through the established tourist trail, we enter dark, dank temples, one after another. Most unused and unloved. “No Photo Taking” signs were on every wall. Cameras were in every hallway. Some of the temple rooms, or khangs, have plain clothes monks giving the same emotionless speeches they give everyday to every new Chinese tour group that comes in the room (and there are a lot of groups!). Many of the rooms where locked or closed because of renovations so we really only got to see half of the ‘normal’ tour. Of course they didn’t tell us this at the bottom of the long, steep hill at the ticket office! I was honestly depressed. I don’t know if I had my hopes up or what, but I just walked away sad. Grieved by the course of history, saddened by stupidity and blindness, depressed by the seeming unrepentant and greedy nature of those in charge currently, disappointed by the total lack of upkeep and care given to this ‘museum’ of a cultural relic. And this is a UNESCO World Heritage Site!!! 
I complain but it is still an incredibly fascinating place. I am especially interested (and have begun a long term photo project) on the rapid, obvious and enveloping modernization of 
To this end, I spent the last few weeks searching for a good translator. Someone who can speak Tibetan and Chinese and English with a good deal of fluency. This was more difficult than I thought it would be. I would find someone who could speak one or two of the languages well but not the third. All three here are especially important. But finally, about a week and a half ago, I found a Tibetan jewel. I’ll call him JY. How I found him was pure luck as well. I wasn’t even trying to find him….he found me. I was posting little advertisements around the city in the local tea houses and restaurants looking for Chinese and Tibetan portrait subjects (I also want to do a “Faces of Tibet” portrait project). I spend many days getting the translations of my English ad into Mandarin and Tibetan. Finally, when everyone thought it read well and made sense, I started to post them at many different spots around town. This was of course against the regulations of the Environmental Committee here, but I didn’t know and they didn’t catch me so who’s hurt, right? Anyway, in one of the biggest and most famous teahouses, I was asking to put up my sign and there was great discussion about it at the manager’s table. Finally they consented and after I taped it to the wall a young man who was sitting at the same table as the manager came up to me and asked if I was looking for a guide. When I initially answered ‘No, I’m looking for subjects for my portraits”, I realized that this could be the translator break I was looking for. So I corrected myself and we started to talk. He turns out to be fluent in Tibetan and very good in Chinese and English. Perfect! Turns out he is from ‘outside’ and came back only a couple years ago. Very interesting young man and very easy to work with. He is dependable, friendly, and attentive. What more could I ask for? So, finally, after 4 weeks of looking, I have found my translator!
So I would like to whine for just a second about my ‘work’…..or total lack there of! You all are my friends and family and what I say is said in trust. Here’s the circle of trust and you’re in the middle of it. I think I’m a good photographer. One of the better ones if I can be a little modest. I have a talent. I am pretty good at what I do. I feel my images are strong, interesting, and sometimes even beautiful. So why have I not found an assignment yet? Why is it that there are plenty of jobs to be given but no one has thought of me for one? It is really kind of frustrating and discouraging. There are days where I think that things will turn around tomorrow or the next day or even the next. Something has to happen soon, right? But then there are many days where I just have to wonder what the fuck I’m doing. Am I wasting my time? Is this what I should be doing? Can I support a family (or even myself) with my photography? Should I get back into editing? Should I go to grad school and get a Master’s? Should I teach? What the hell am I supposed to do? Why can’t I get a bone from anyone? Why do I feel like I have to prove anything to anyone? Why do I feel a serious lack of motivation? Yes, I’m working on this major project. I go out probably 4-6 hours a day to search for photographs to include. Maybe I don’t go out everyday. Maybe I don’t get up out of bed until 9 or even 10 in the morning (have I mentioned the time zone thing here totally fucked up). It’s not like I really know what I’m doing on the business side of photography. I can take a photo. But can I run a business? Can I advertise myself effectively? Can I hope to make a name for myself in a market that is totally saturated with good talent and more aggressive, suave business photogs? 
I just don’t know. Some days I feel fine about all this and some days I do not. I wanted to take this risk and quit a good job and take this adventure by the horns and try my hand at freelance photography for I truly believe that if you do not take the chance then the question of what if and the accompanying regrets will gnaw away at the soul the rest of your days. Take the chance! Live the life! Run with the bulls and if you get trampled, at least you’ll have a good story to go with that limp. But fuck…...this is hard. It’s lonely. It’s frustrating. It’s a lot of hard work. Not that I thought this would be easy, but I did kind of think I’d have at least one assignment by now. The goal by the end of this year is to have 6 but right now it’s not looking so good. I would feel fortunate to get in 3 now. If nothing else, and I never get an assignment at all, then I’ll still come home (whenever that happens) with one hell of a kick ass portfolio, a whole lot of world experience and possibly even a book…..if you ask me, any of those are worth more than a few measly dollars anyway.
Our complicated and overly expensive plan right now is to come back to the States in less than a month now and stay for about 6 weeks. I think I’ll visit the in laws in Indiana and North Carolina (after all Leigh is coming all the way back basically for my sister’s wedding) and then hop, skip and jump over the small hill in Colorado called the Rockies for a 2 week camping reunion with my ‘rado friends. Then on to the nation’s capital, which I still have not experienced in my entire world travels if you can believe it! Then we will come back to 
