It’s a must, they said.
My first impression was, it’s just another market like so many other ones.
But when you look bit closer, you find many local specialities, worth to try or consider to take as a souvenir.
Just a few photo impressions:
Tel Aviv.
A vibrant city indeed. People strolling along the pedestrian zones, sitting in one of the many cafes at a square or in a park or just going shopping in one of the big malls. The mild climate makes it even more comfortable to be in the streets and parks, especially now in the wintertime.
So far not really different to many other modern cities on the world. But then, there’s that mix of smaller, older buildings between big, modern skyscrapers. I can’t make it out a clear line between living area and business district. It’s all fluently.
It’s also lively and colorful, as i find bigger or smaller graffiti everywhere. And a lot of movement too, not only by car, but many by bicycle and e-scooter. A network of bicycle paths makes it easy to navigate trough the city. It’s fun to take one of the rental e-scooter and roaming trough the neighborhood. From time to time i have to stop for a photo or a nice cup of cappuccino, of course.
A winter day in Rome, known as the eternal city, is perfect for sightseeing. If the sun is shining and the temperatures are mild, even better.
I was surprised how quick i went trough all the entrances and security checks on the main tourist spots.
I’ll spare you all the details of the history and backgrounds, but will link the main attractions to Wikipedia for all those who seek more informations for their own trip to Rome.
For all those ones interested in some pictures, just do it my way: grab a coffee and enjoy what you’ll see:
Bad weather forecast for all the Northern Italy. Not only cold, but also lots of rain was predicted. No fun for camping at all.
I had to move on anyway. So i looked up for an alternative route and accommodation.
Go to the Apennin, they said. It’s fun, they said.
Fortunately i booked an apartment, i thought, when the cold creeped in the car as i gained more and more altitude. Around 1200 m a.s.l. the narrow, winding road got snow covered and icy.
Happily and safely i arrived that small unknown village, hidden in the thick fog,
Nobody to see on the street. Even the building, where i booked my apartment seemed abandoned. Only the neighbor opened his window, glared to my car and let me know, i’m parking on his property and have to move the car on the right place. The neighbor watch works all over the world, i thought amused.
Eventually i got into my warm, heated rooms and went out to explore the village. I passed the church and the memorial, which looked even more sad in the cold. A board at the pharmacy shows 4°C only. Many shops are closed down for the season. So are most restaurants and bars.
On the main square were some cars parked. Indeed, there’s a cafe open. Old men were sitting on tables, drinking coffee or beer and playing cards, while other watching and commenting the game. I could feel the eyes following me, when i entered and approached the waitress behind the counter.
Eventually they turned back to the game and to their conversation, while i sip on my cappuccino and observe the scene. The fog made the glass door milky, as if it try to push into the room. I felt like in a time capsule, thrown back 50 years or so, when the only bar in the village was the meeting point and source of the news, inside and outside of their world.
On my way back i found a little store, where i got some groceries, but most important some fresh bread, a small, typically cake, called panettone, and a bottle of red wine. What a cosy evening was awaiting me.
Can we do some boudoir photography? Thembi asked me.
At least we gave it a try…
On our search of a good and cool location for another photo shooting we came across this abandon pump station on a farm. We decided for a rather shabby but sexy look. Maybe a bit like the pin-ups from the 70’s, but darker and less colorful.
Thembi got an old, stained, short trouser and a teared shirt. With her curly hair and a stern look, she posed in front of the huge petrol drum. The gas pipe in the hand she gave a self confident look to the camera.
Despite the serious look, it was all fun and we captured few shots. But decide for yourself…
It was in a shopping mall outside Pilanesberg Nationalpark, where i met this young, beautiful lady the first time. The talk lead to photography, more specific to beauty and fashion photography, modeling and so on. Thembi admits she wants to have a photo shoot, but there wasn’t any nice location around but Pilanesberg, the beautiful national park with its stunning landscape. The idea of having esthetic photos from her body in beautiful nature raised.
From the start, Thembi was a natural talent. She felt comfortable with the environment, moved smooth and confident and gave that look of a strong woman to the camera. We had so much fun, visited different locations, where it was not only beautiful, but of course, also safe to leave the car. After hours of photo shoot, we brought home a bunch of really nice, interesting pictures, but see, and judge, for yourself.
However Thembi had so much fun, she asked me for more photo shoots, but that’s another story for the next blog. Stay tuned!
The waves crashing to the rocks at the shore. Uninterrupted, everlasting energy of mother nature. It’s the first sound I hear when I wake up. The cool breeze brings me to the sandy beach. A tractor is pulling a boat for a fish trip to the sea. Those fishermen are early birds too, or are they called ‚early fish‘ then?
At the end of the beach the sun rises between the rock and the ocean. Very slow and deliberately the first rays hit the rocks, caress the waves and finally warm my skin. Beautiful colors unfold and pushing the dark of the night aside. The day started just now.
It’s weekend and since Maputo isn’t too far away from Ponta Do Ouro, many weekend visitors are expected. Loads of pick-up cars with picnic-families, sun-seekers and partygoers falling into town and beach. There’s just one obstacle: the beaches are closed for swimmers and sunbathers due the covid pandemic. It is allowed to walk on the beach, though.
Couples, families and groups of friends are moving along the beach. Among them are police forces watching no one steps into the water or even dare to swim. As soon a few dove their toes too deep in the water a sharp whistle brings them back to dry sand. But this is not stopping them from chitchatting, playing in the sand and making photos from each others.
With my camera in hand, I notice the gazes of three friends making selfies. Do you want me to take a photo of the three of you, I asked. A quick answer confirmed it. And so begins the first of many spontaneous photo shoots. There are kids, jumping around, friends want to immortalize themselves in the picture, families enjoy an image as souvenir. Other photographer showing proudly their camera, while girls showing me their best beach poses. I can’t tell when I saw last time so many smiling faces, so much laughter by jumping for the photos.
Only when the sun sets, the last light was fading, the beach emptier from the day visitors. The silhouettes of the last group disappears in the dark and the hidden crabs taking over the beach again. In the distance party music echoes across, but soon even this ends due the curfew. The last thing I hear are waves crashing to the rocks. Uninterrupted, everlasting.
.
The heat struck me when i arrived at that small villlage at the beach. After a few rainy and chilly days I was looking for it, but didn’t expected that big change just a few hours after border crossing to Mozambique.
First thing; to get on the street and get some local currency and buy some water, And a local SIM card. Along the street are colorful fabrics, towels and clothes displayed. Local dealer show their handicrafts, carved wooden figures and small funny cars made of wood.
Young guys passing me with their roaring quads, raising lots of dust and certainly having fun. For little money, they rent out their vehicles on tourists. But it’s not allowed anymore to drive them on the beach, they warn me. I didn’t suppose to rent anyway, although it comes handy to go for and back with those conveniently. Many tourists from South Africa, just bring their own quad or strand buggy, going for shopping with, or to a near beaches outside town,
In front of the ATM is a queue, waiting patiently to get cashed out their money. Not fancy to wait in the heat, I asked the street seller for changing some cash US Dollars in Meticai, the local currency. Really old fashion, I know, but indeed I found somebody who was happy to get dollars in cash.
Now I was able to buy myself a nice coffee. No better place for that than the ‚Love Café‘ at the end of the street. Friendly staff, strong coffee and street view to entertain myself. As I noticed on the street already, the people are open and friendly, and not too shy to get photographed. In the opposite, some staff from the café was asking me to take pictures of them.
Back on my camp, next to the beach, I was leaning back with a cold local beer, overlooking the beautiful bay of Punta Do Ouro and feeling I’m arrived here.
Ein Schritt nach links, ein Schritt nach rechts, und jeder vierte wird gestampft, begleitet mit „shh-shh“-Geräusche. Die meisten Krieger gucken ernst nach vorne, doch als ich zögernd in ihre Reihe trete, machen sie bereitwillig Platz und erklären mir den simplen Ablauf der Schritte. Der junge Swazi rechts von mir will wisssen woher ich komme. Aus der Schweiz, antworte ich. „Ahh, Xhakaaa…„, grinst er mich an. Erstaunt nehme ich war, dass er deutlich mehr über diesen Schweizer Fussballer weiss, denn ich selber. Ein älterer Herr in der vorderen Reihe guckt ernst zurück und wir konzentrieren uns wieder auf die monotonen Tanzschritte.
Ich befinde mitten in der Incwala, einer der heiligsten und grössten Zeremonie des Königreich Eswatini. Der Höhepunkt des mehrtägigen Festes findet im Innern eines grossen Kraals mit bestimmt 100 Meter Durchmesser und drei Meter hoher Zaun aus dicken Holzästen und Stämme statt. Auf der einen Seite reihen sich die Swazi Krieger in ihren traditionellen Kleider auf. Dazu gehört das mit Stolz um die Hüfte getragene Leopardenfell, aus Kuhschwänze fabrizierten Umhang, ein Schild aus Kuhleder, ein Kopfschmuck mit kostbaren, bunten Federn und dunkle Stöcke, die übern Kopf geschwungen werden.
Auf der gegenüber liegenden Seite des Kraal stehen bunt gekleidete Frauen in Gruppen, ebenfalls tanzend und singend. Statt eines Stockes balancieren sie einen hellen Zweig in der Luft. Nach und nach betreten auch barbusige Frauen und Mädchen den Kraal, nur mit einem sehr kurzen Rock bekleidet, und tanzen auf die Männer zu und zurück.
Eigentlich ist es Ausländer nicht gestattet sich innerhalb diesen Kraals aufzuhalten. Und eigentlich wusste ich noch vor einigen Tage nicht mal über die Existenz dieser Zeremonie. Doch dann brachte mich Ellen, eine Reisefreundin, hier her und machte mich auch noch mit einigen Leuten bekannt. Neben dem Tourismus-Minister und einigen Presseleute, begegnen wir auch einem Piloten der königlichen Familie und dem königlichen Hoffotografen. Schnell lernen wir, dass es nicht nur im heiligen Innern des Kraals ein Fotoverbot herrscht, sondern auch nur diskret direkt vor dem Kraal Aufnahmen gemacht werden dürfen. Was wiederum kein Problem darstellte ist das Fotografieren auf dem Platz rundum, wo sich Frauen und Männer auf die Zeremonie vorbereiten oder auf ihren Einsatz warten.
Trotz generellem Verbot werden einige Ausländer in den Kraal zugelassen. Das geht aber nur mit einer Bewilligung. Auch einige akkreditierte Fotografen dürfen sich für eine kurze Zeit darin bewegen und Fotos machen. Der Hoffotograf bemühte sich für Ellen und mich um eine solche Bewilligung, was aber zeitlich zu kurzfristig war. Immerhin erreichte er, dass Ellen, auf der Frauenseite, und ich bei den Krieger, in den Kraal gelassen werden.
Es wird Zeit für den König von Eswantini, Mswati III, der in seiner ganzen Pracht und mit riesigem Schmuck die Szenerie betritt. Im Schlepptau seiner persönlichen Leibgarde, ebenfalls in traditionellem Kriegsgewand, schreitet er den Kraal ab, reiht, nur etwa 20 Meter von mir entfernt, sich bei seinen Krieger ein und stampft mit. Das geht über mehrere Stunden weiter, ohne dass sich wirklich grosse Variationen oder gar Aktionen erkennen liess. Dann, als sich die Kriegerschar in das Zentrum gestampft hatte, wurde ich höflich, aber bestimmt, gebeten, wie alle anderen Ausländer auch, den Kraal zu verlassen. Draussen fand ich Ellen, die ebenfalls aus ihrer Frauentanzgruppe ausgeschlossen wurde. Zusammen verlassen wir den königlich-heiligen Platz und nehmen eine reiche Erfahrung mehr mit. Und auch einige fotografische Impressionen…
rene bauer photography 