At dusk the main street of Pai, North Thailand, comes to life in a menagerie of buskers and vendors, tourists and hawkers. Sizzling aromas share the air with the sound of laughter and banter in two dozen languages. The colours are so vivid, what else can the photographer do but shoot black&white?
The red bricks of Bhaktapur took a pounding the day the earthquake struck.
Langtang shook like a baby’s rattle the day the earthquake struck.
Not all of the buildings you see still stand. Yet one thing does: the memory of Nepal as it was, as it will be again.
All images supplied by Ⓒtrespasserine2014
Lyrics supplied by the Stone Roses, Tightrope, Second Coming, 1994
From peasants tilling fields at the close of day to ribbed hillsides breathing out vapour at the break of day, the countryside of northwestern Thailand is serene in its majesty. After decades of widespread hunting the forests may have fallen eerily silent, but no man armed with bow or rifle can bring down the tropical sun. Where birds once cawed and monkeys once howled, it is the dawn the makes all the noise nowadays.
Please click on image to enlarge. Trust me, it’ll be worth your while.
There’s a village about as far northwest as you can go in Thailand before you hit the fortified frontier with Myanmar. Its name is Ban Rak Thai, which translates as “Thai-Loving People”. There’s a story in how it came to be. That village with its signs written in Mandarin and its slopes lined with oolong tea shrubs was founded by Kuomintang soldiers, themselves escaping Mao’s Communists across the hills from Yunnan Province in 1949. While the mainstay of Chinese nationalists fighting under warlord Chiang Kai Shek fled to Taiwan, this faction of history’s losers found sanctuary in Thailand where they brought a little taste of home with them.