Sunrise in Hong Kong

What it’s been? A couple of months?

I’m back. Sort of.

Where have I been? Here and there. Everywhere and nowhere.

After 3.5 years of blogging I was a little tired. Seeing what some bloggers had done in the name of making a buck made me sad. Tired and sad, I opted for a little time away from Asian Ramblings and the travel blog scene.

That and I’ve turned a page or two in the book that is my life. A whole new chapter, you might say.

• A new job, as I mentioned previously. Out of the classroom and into the boardroom.
• We (Mrs. Stevo and I) bought a condo. I have been busy rolling in plaster dust and trying to remember the cuss words my father was fond of saying while doing DIY projects.
• Mrs. Stevo is expecting. That’s right, there’s a bun in the oven. The stork is circling. I’m happy and frightened.
• I’ve taken a shot or two since I last posted here. I’ve been playing around with black and white.
• Asian Ramblings has been nominated again for the Bloggies. Head on over and vote for your favorite blogs.

That’s all for now. I’ll be around with a story or a photo to share as time permits.

Guangxiao Si, the Bright Filial Piety Temple is one the oldest in Guangzhou, Guangdong Province’s capital. History places the first temple buildings on the site during the 4th century, before mighty Guangzhou was a city. The compound is significant because Hui Neng, of the Zen Buddhist sect, was a novice at the temple during the 7th century.

That’s what the guidebook says. Guangxiao Si has seen dynasties rise and fall, generations born, live and die, and one of the largest cities of the world spring up around its walls. Much of the temple was destroying during a 17th century fire and rebuilt. It remains timeless place of stillness and beauty.

Fragrant smoke hangs heavy over the grounds. Incense, purchased from the temple or the shops surrounding it, is placed before the Maltreya Buddha.
space

Women say prayers and leave offerings at the West Iron Pagoda. The ritual continues as they walk around the four-sided iron structure, saying prayers facing north, east and south. Some circle the pagoda, fingers trailing over the cold surface, incense burning in the other.
space

Chanting surrounds the Mahavira Hall. The faithful line its walls, texts in hand.
space

A group gathers in front of the structure. Inside a master chants sacred words, his voice heard above the hundreds.
space

Two monks retreat from the holy chaos for a moment’s respite. I watch them leave, and the assembled worshippers continue with rituals as their ancestors have for generations.
space

Originally Published: November 24, 2007.

Are we ever really lost?

We know roughly where we are, be it a city, region or country. We are on the earth, from that point of view we’re not lost at all. We have a place within the cosmos. I have been lost, literally and figuratively. Much of my time is now spent trying to get lost.

But you just asked if we’re ever really lost?

Who’s that? Shut up. Don’t interrupt.

As long as I know which way is north and I have a rudimentary map I can find what I’m looking for. Eventually. Knowing the compass points is key. When I first arrived at my digs in China I was confused. I had no idea where north was. It was good my faith (or total lack there of) didn’t involve facing Mecca. After discovering north, navigating my new world became easier.

New world? Are you Columbus? North? Oliver North?

Shut up.

I was lost, really lost, only once. On a cold, rainy October afternoon some friends and I went hiking. After reaching our destination, the remains of an old uranium mine, we started back. One friend decided on a short cut. His error in judgment led to hours of walking in the rain, wading through beaver ponds, and generally being miserable. It wasn’t a bad place to be lost, it was bordered on four sides by roads and the area was about 18 square kilometers. We would have been found before DNA was needed to identify our remains.

I learned lessons that day. Most involved stupidity, listening to others, and always carrying a compass. None of those have translated into my urban, Chinese, existence.

I stray from the path. A straight line between Point A and B is boring. There are too many alleys to explore along the way. I’m never really lost, I know what city I’m in and my approximate location on a map. I’ll never have to worry about resorting to cannibalism if lost in China as I would in the Canadian wilds. Many varieties of street food are widely available.

If I hadn’t had strayed from the path I never would have found Nui Xiang (translated: cow path) and the mailbox covered wall (above). Getting lost has advantages.

originally published: November 26, 2007

Yes, actually this is an exit, at a Hong Kong MTR station on Hong Kong Island. I’ve always wanted to use the final line from Brent Easton Ellis’ satirical novel American Psycho.

I’ll be away for a couple of weeks, as I said, putting on my traveling shoes. Changsha, Heng Shan, Chenzhou, Guiyang, China – It should be quite fun. I’ll follow my standard of practice of not asking what I’m eating. Asking will limit my food choice. Being dumb is often better.

I’ll be getting a new Chinese visa on Tuesday, then catching a night train. Fifteen hours in a soft-sleeper is better than 15 hours in a hard seat. The romance of the rails doesn’t apply in China. I may drink heavily before the train trip.

I’ll try to update with fresh photos while on the road. The best way to get updates is to follow me on Twitter.

For the absent Mrs. Stevo. Only a few more weeks…

I was finally able to buy some flowers to shoot. Strobist info: This was done with an “O” flash on-camera, and a YN460 behind, bouncing off a white wall.  Triggered with Phottix Tetra wireless triggers.

Chinese students run home from school on a Friday afternoon.

At 4:15 on a Friday afternoon Chinese students are like their international counterparts:  They charge head-long into the freedom the weekend has to offer.

Joe (front and center-right) was a student of mine when he was in Grade 3. He’s much bigger now. As a Grade 6 student he will write the middle school entrance exams in a few months, a lot of pressure for for an 11-year-old. He and his mates are running towards Momo Bar, a coffee and milk tea stand in an area we refer to as The Promenade.  An iced-tea, sunshine and a camera, are a good way to whittle away the remaining hours of the work week.