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Published: January 24th 2011
Nothing really happens. Well, nothing of note...in the vast majority of the endless hours that stretch between the dawn of our time memorial and our sudden and ultimate exit from this bizarre cauldren of existence. If you were to eliminate the major dramatic incidents from your life, I suppose you'd find that the remaining 98 percent of your existence was composed entirely of routine scurrying and scuttling, domestic ordinarities, nail clipping and whiling away hours awaiting things which are quite pleasant yet don't quite account for the complete disregard of all the hours inbetween. Maybe I should pay more attention to the inbetween hours although I have precious little to mention. Work has seeped between the days and filled up the gaps of my every waking hour like some kind of mercurial poison since the commencement of the sickening living-death entitled 'Winter Training', which by divine decree of the education bureau has sought to rid the local teachers of several days of the 'Spring Break', meanwhile sentencing us to hour upon hour of teacher-training...day melting into seamless day, course into course... the teachers faces all blur into one giant teachermug and sometimes I'm sure the same teachers are coming back again
and again. Mind you, in the countryside people often look strangely similar so perhaps my confusion is vaguely accountable.
Still, 2 days to go and we're on holiday! I'm actually enjoying the training, it's just that my English half can't quite escape the temptation to whinge. My Indian half, however, is somewhat troubled by recent observations. In any case, I hope you can accept the role of cultural voyeur in order to stomach the next round of photos...they may be a touch gross.
In order to feign some form of newsworthy blogging in the absence of any true action, and in response to a request from one of my more troublesome subscribers, I am therefore including this minor entry. It is a little photographic journey through the culinary treats from our home town, plus a few noteworthy images of local life. Our friend Li has a good eye for a photograph, so he's been kind enough to let me include a few of his shots.
Walking around town is always a treat for the eyes here. I wish I could photograph more. Some of the local people have the most fascinating faces and especially the poorer folk
Bringing home the bacon (Li)
Li took this shot in one of the local villages.have a colourful depth of character and a rugged sinewy strength about them. Many people seem to have a really firm gaze...I like that. The old men and women who pull their heavy wooden carts laden with tea, spices, fruit, veg or various knick-knacks. The old guys who sit around on stools playing cards, dressed in their standard dark blue slacks and flat caps, survivors of another age. Many of the older people have really stern faces in repose, but their expression will suddenly crack into an amazingly warm cheeky grin. I wish I could take all those shots, but I feel intrusive. These are all real people, and when you point a camera at someone, you're kind of taking exception. So if you ask if you can take a photo, it's not so bad, but then you should at least want to know them, want to know something of them...or the photo is meaningless. A picture of a world you don't understand. I like to ask. I wouldn't want someone taking a photo of me if they knew nothing of me, as an example of an curious eccentricity of a place and time. I know it happens, but I
Cow a la blowtorch
Sarah and Li bumped into these guys 'cooking' in the schoolyard outside the training room. wouldn't choose it. Having said that, I guess we've been followed and photographed at work everywhere we've been for months now so I should probably be less considerate.
Hope you like the photos. Love to all.
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