Photo Story: Old Piano

This piano stood in the entryway of the house I lived in in 2009. The flatmates were mostly pretty awesome and there was a cool view of the sea (distantly, but there). The children of the house were meant to be having lessons but I don’t think I ever heard them practising. I do recall a few hours spent at it myself attempting to play Star Trek music or electronica, neither of which worked very well, but that’s likely because while I know a bit of theory, I’m not a piano player at all.

I liked how the ivory was sometimes worn or lost, yet it did not affect the instrument’s sound at all. Outward appearances are so minor in the scheme of things, aren’t they?

Photo Story: Golden Gate Bridge

This picture is from my trip in 2008. I was staying at the hostel near Fisherman’s Wharf, and walked all the way around the coast to this ocean beach. On the way I ventured a little distance onto the bridge, but the sheer height was freaking me out rather a lot so I turned back and continued on terra firma. The coastal pathway begins right by the bridge if I remember rightly, and it’s littered with old wartime defence installations on the cliffs. Farther along there are steps down to the sea. Nice to have places like this so close to the city – San Francisco reminds me of Auckland in a lot of ways.

European Journeys

When I lived in Germany, I got to make several brief trips to other places around Europe. These included:

France (Paris, staying in a quaint old family-run hotel at the foot of Montmartre)
Spain (Guardamar del Segura, Costa Blanca, with friends)
Austria (Salzburg, to see the castle, also once Innsbruck and once not sure of exact location; remote mountain)
Switzerland (Zurich, Geneva, Winterthur and another remote mountain location)
Czech Republic (only just over the border, for work - I think we ate lunch in Rozvadov)
Tunisia (Hammam Sousse, with a friend for a week in February to escape the northern winter)
England (London, visiting dear friends in Wembley and getting to play the tourist)
Scotland (With my mother, Edinburgh, Perth, Glasgow, Isle of Bute, and a glimpse of Strathraer as we left it)
Ireland (Bangor/Belfast, Dublin, Balbriggan, Doolin, Antrim, Downpatrick, Newtownards and Strangford Lough - Ahem. There'll be a whole other post for this lot!)

Here's a couple of my favourite photos from those trips. Bear with me - for much of this time I was using a first-generation cellphone camera!

On the outskirts of Geneva, looking across the border into France - yes, that's a giant cliff. Geneva is on a bit of Switzerland that sticks into France, so it's possible to use city transport to cross from one French border to the other in about an hour. Which we did. Fun! There was a cable car to go up the cliff, but it happened to be closed that day, so instead we found a nice French restaurant out here in the middle of nowhere and had a meal of several courses for a very good price.

The terrace at Hotel El Menchia in Hammam-Sousse, Tunisia. We breakfasted here each day, then set off to explore the local area - markets and bakeries, and nearby towns by bus or open trolley. Sousse itself has a marvellous souk that pours itself, walled, down a hillside above the modern city, and in the other direction we found a yacht marina with everything a tourist might want.

Walking about the Isle of Bute, we got alternately rained on and dried by the sun. Just look at that blue sky and black cloud! This is a view from the Rothesay golf course above the town, looking east at the mainland and the Firth of Clyde.

So many places, so much to see! Perhaps all of these will need their own posts eventually...

Giant's Causeway

Giant's Causeway is a fabulous natural monument on the north coast of Ireland. The legend goes that an Irish giant was fighting with a Scottish giant, and threw stones into the sea in his desire to make a way across to teach the Scot a lesson. There is a similar formation beyond the ocean in Scotland (image search: Cave of Melody). Check out Ireland.com's Giant's Causeway page for more background and a lovely video.

As for me, I visited in 2008 with a friend. The long and winding cliff pathways, the conveniently foot-sized stepping stones on their long seaward tongue, and the organ-pipe formations in the hillsides all make for an expansive and mind-boggling experience.

Photo Story: San Francisco Boats

It was December of 2008 and I was near the end of a trek that had seen me on the road for about 8 months through Germany, Ireland and the USA. Unlike all my other stops, I had no one to visit in San Francisco, but wanted to see it anyway; so I booked a bed in the Fort Mason hostel overlooking the Bay and Fisherman's Wharf. I snapped this shot nearby in the sharp, golden evening light. Just near here was the stomping ground of the street entertainer who hid behind some branches he held, and jumped out at passers-by. After being frightened themselves, most would join the crowd to observe the next poor soul coming past. In this way I suppose he earns his pocket money. He did jump out at me, but I have to admit, I was so oblivious and intent on my purpose that I didn't even realise until I was well past and the crowd had started to laugh. Just call me unflappable, I suppose...

That time I got stuck in Timbuktu

Okay, this is where things get crazy. Or maybe things were already crazy a long time before that, who knows?

I flew from Germany to meet several Kiwi friends in Ghana. We proceeded to trek through Burkina Faso and then Mali, which last is where these pictures are from. In Mali we visited several World Vision project villages and were duly presented with a chicken by the elders of each. The above picture is from a school visit; we had brought puppets to show the children, and these caused huge excitement everywhere we went.

Then came an opportunity to visit Timbuktu in the northern reaches of Mali. So we did. Except we got stuck there, because the return flight we'd been sold didn't exist. Our friends drove up from the capital to help get us back to our next flight on time.

The lower picture is a street in Timbuktu. At the edge of the Sahara, this ancient city is constantly under threat of being inundated by sand. The buildings are mostly mud brick, with patterns scratched on them to stop the surface from cracking. We slept in the open on one of the roofs.

Photo Story: Edinburgh Sunset

Cockburn Street, Edinburgh, Scotland. Location: http://goo.gl/maps/Yiu4l

I was here in the winter of 2008, staying in a nearby hostel that overlooked the railway station in its huge glacial valley. Cockburn Street is one of the steeply curved connections up the side of the valley leading to the High Street ridge, at whose top sits the Edinburgh Castle.

One evening near sunset as we passed by one of these quaint little shops - something like our corner dairies in NZ, selling basic groceries at elevated prices - three teenage boys were leaning over the counter in the face of the nonplussed owner. "I want a refund," said one of the boys in best Scots brogue, pushing an unseen item at the older man. The owner said something about wanting to see a receipt. "Look," said the boy, "I bought that here and I swear to it on my grandmother's grave."

We passed swiftly on and did not hear the outcome. The whole affair seemed pretty fishy to me, though. Bringing his grandma into it smacked of trying too hard to be convincing...

Photo Story: Chicago from above

Back in 2008 I toured the USA for about 2 months. On my way I visited Frank Creed and family in Indiana, near enough to drive to Chicago for a day trip. We went up the Sears Tower (yes I know its name has changed but I can't remember the new one...)

From the viewing deck, Frank pointed down at the area to the north of the tower. "That's the zone where my novels take place," he said. As it turns out, we ended up putting a version of this picture on his third book in the series - but don't be fooled by this screen image, it looks way cooler in print!

Photo Story - Balbriggan Harbour

Five years ago I spent a summer in Balbriggan, on the coast of the Irish Sea just north of Dublin. I often walked into the town for my groceries, taking a turn around the harbour first. Always charmed by the many colours of the fishing boats, and always hurt to the heart at the sight of two sunken wrecks against the seawall. It's an interesting harbour; it has no water at all when the tide is out, leaving the boats high and dry.

Photo Story: River Winch

This image comes from Regensburg, and I took it from an island in the Danube. There is a bridge there, built in the 1100's and still in use today. It sits on massive boat-shaped pylons that churn the river into whirlpools. More pictures of the setup here. Anyway, back in those days, ships moving upriver didn't have enough power to pass the turbulence, so a winch was built. That's the winch house there in yellow, and if you look closely, you can see a long slit in its wall - that's where the winch cable came out to attach to the ships and guide them up past the rough spot.

Photo Story: Piano Keys

In the year 2009 I enjoyed sharing a big house with a single dad, his two young daughters, and a couple of other flatmates who came and went. We rented the place together; it was high on a hill, nearly at the top of the same ridge I live on now, but much farther along to the south. It was also just across from a very large patch of bush that goes all the way down to the harbour on the inside, and this forest was big enough to get lost in and forget I was even in the city. I had a basement room, but worked mostly upstairs in the lounge, from where there was a fine view of the Hauraki Gulf not too different from what I see looking east today. So each morning I would cart my computer upstairs, and I would pass this piano in the front hallway. It was several months before I realised the door behind the piano led to a small bathroom under the stairs, which proved a useful extra facility. I vaguely recall that the girls were supposed to practise on the piano but I don't remember if they ever did. I do remember downloading sheet music for the Star Trek Voyager theme song and attempting to play it. I couldn't - and still can't - play much easier pieces, so it's no wonder I got stuck fairly quickly. However, the old piano's mismatched keys gave it great character and one day I snapped this shot.

I was asleep in my cold basement room when my father died, early one morning four years ago. Now his piano, in much better condition than the one above, stands in my house that I never would have found if the landlord at that other place hadn't decided he wanted to move in himself. I still haven't learned to play piano, not properly - but I do like to tinker, and maybe someday I'll get it right.

Photo Story: Yellow Café, Rouen, France

One fine September morning, I sat on a wall in the town of Rouen with my Mum, noshing on real French bread and cheese. Rouen's claim to fame is that it's where Joan of Arc lived and died. We had just landed in Paris in the early dawn; a chartered bus picked us up from Charles de Gaulle airport and we were whisked straight out of Paris. I've never done an organised tour before or since, it's not my style, but I was allowed to join a school group as an extra chaperone.

So we had wandered through twisted medieval streets with tall half-timbered houses, passed the darkly modern St. Jeanne cathedral, and conquered a local outdoor fruit market all in the space of an hour or so. It wasn't lunchtime, but we were all messed up from a 24-hour flight broken only by a couple of hours in Hong Kong.

We had our bread and cheese and a melon from the market, and sat to eat it on this wall between a grassy park and the scooter-filled street. Across the street was this café all set up for the midday rush - all in yellow and white, every knife and fork and glass in place. I like patterns, so I thought it'd make a nice picture.

Photo Story: Blue Dinghy Seagull

It was the autumn of 2009. I was sharing a house in Hillcrest with an assortment of people, including one with some pretty cool friends. When they started making plans to spend a weekend yachting in the Bay of Islands, I begged to join them. There was room, so I paid my share and hopped a ride.

Each yacht carried five people aboard, one qualified skipper and four of varying skill. I was a total noob, though I've always loved the water and my Dad grew up sailing. Swimming, rowing and kayaking were as far as I got.

Until that weekend. The skipper had us fixing the sails, steering, and navigating with the maps and GPS. We cooked on a gas stove in the cabin and moored in a quiet bay that night. All the crews gathered on one of the other yachts for a bit of a party, but I stayed behind alone, ever the introvert. It's hard to get solo time when you eat and sleep in the same little cabin and can't even walk away.

Anyway, the next day we headed towards yet another island. On the way we tacked against the wind; once, having just hooked the sail down to expose a smaller surface to the increasing breeze, I was hanging onto the mast with just my right arm when we swung over in a steep turn.

To my horror, there was an all-too-familiar grinding and my shoulder dislocated. I am prone to this, since it's happened a few times now and the muscles are a bit loose. I called out for help and the skipper tacked us back the other way - I don't know why he did that, but it was the best thing possible really. Still clutching the base of the mast for balance, my arm popped right back in.

Soon after, I was happily rowing the blue dinghy around an island as if nothing had happened. I don't think the others believed me at all.