Small version (click for full-size link):

Link to full-size version (ca. 13MB).

One of my ongoing things is to learn to dare and take pictures of people, to discipline myself to take my camera along and try to photograph random things around the city, and to figure out the aesthetic “stuff” in buildings and objects I pass every day.

5dMarkII, 70-200 f/2.8 with a 2x teleconverter.  No filters, 1/125s exposure.

Somehow they seem a bit unsharp as someone pointed out; I used autofocus as I stink at manual. It still focused to infinity. Things to remember:

- manual focus
- with the teleconverter, maximum aperture was f/5.6. I will try it with f-value 10+ and a slightly longer exposure

This particular one is near my father’s farm in the East of the country, on the Western slopes of the Vosges mountains.  Around the area, I’ve seen at least three, with one that’s recently lost its roof despite the half-hearted efforts of its German owner to save it.  The whole area is very desolate, wet and cold in winter, and as such probably not terribly profitable for modern agriculture, despite government subsidies.  Due to vast pine forests planted for paper pulp in the 1980s, it’s also quite dark and spooky.  Coupled with bad transportation, it’s easy to imagine why the area is not as vibrant as it was before people started moving to cities.

The whole area has a touch of the Blair Witch Project about it.  Even in daylight in summer, it’s creepy as hell.

On Pentecost island, the locals practice a ritual consisting of jumping from tall bamboo platforms with vines attached to their ankles.  Children begin to train at a young age by jumping from their fathers’ shoulders, while dad holds their ankles; participants’ leg and hip muscles are very strong by the time they graduate to the towers.  At that point, jumpers build their own platforms and tying their vines, meaning they are responsible for anything that might go wrong.  The platforms are wedged into the tower, with higher jumping-off points being more prestigious.  The platforms partially collapse when the vines are fully extended, adding some elasticity; should anything go wrong, the area below the tower is set at a downhill slope, and the dirt is loosened to a depth of about 20cm.

The whole affair is a fertility ritual; jumpers’ hair is supposed to graze the dirt below, We saw more than one faceplant due to miscalculations in the length of the vines used, from which the slightly dazed gravitationally challenged victims soon emerged without a scratch.  After each man jumps, he joins his village mates in a dance below.  Villagers wore numerous articles of WWII-era US military surplus gear (hats, web belts, etc.), as Vanuatu was one of the centers of the postwar Pacific cargo cult.  The last kid to jump spent about 15 minutes showing off for the girls down below — and, we assumed, convincing himself that what he was about to do really was a good idea.  All the while, I was cussing out my dinky little pocket Canon, trying to coax another few milliseconds of battery life out of it so I could catch the spectacular last jump (the lighting’s terrible as the sky was bright grey with what sun there was shing right at us — I didn’t bother dodging the light spot on that photo, as I couldn’t get it to not look goofy and artificial).  I’ll live.

Women are not allowed on the towers, nor may they touch the men while this is going on (which didn’t stop a few oblivious Korean tourists from violating pretty much every taboo around the place.)  The particular performance we were allowed to watch required us to fly in on an Air Vanuatu inter-island bug smasher, at a steep ticket fee (to keep out the obnoxious backpackers, a price we were more than happy to play.)  Upon landing, what seemed like most of the island came out to meet our planes, and to snicker at the Australian tourists’ annoyance at the toxic toilet building, “A gift of the people of Australia”.Apparently our event was for the benefit of tourists, as the “real thing” uses higher towers and is strictly by invitation only.  Close enough.

As usual, our guide earned his living.  You can’t argue with 50 bucks for a chauffeured Mercedes for a whole day, though.

Amusingly, comparing Cambodian entry visas from the Siem Reap airport with my INSEAD classmates four years later, Captain Prum Vuthy was still signing visa stickers…

Here’s my first attempt, the original photo is from Feb. 17 2007, taken at la Diablada carnival in Oruro, Bolivia.  My original photos of the event are here.

It looks a bit overly saturated in the background, but the colors were actually that bright.

I really wish there’d been less middle-aged French men with middle-aged French man hair in front of me.  I’ve tried to fudge and crop as best I could.  I also didn’t get any photos of Fred Razon, the pickpocket/magician, as I was too busy watching him lift everyone’s wallets.

Gallery links and thumbnails are buggy, currently trying to fix them.

L’Ecole de Cirque Mandingue (GN)

Performed both nights, and had an amazing energy and enthusiasm.

Mr. WOW (DE)

Ethan Law & Marie-Pier Campeau (US/CA)

Duo Reik (CU)

Christer Pettersen (NO)

Danilo Marder (DE)

Mykola Shcherbak & Sergii Popov (UA)

These guys were outstanding, in my opinion the best of the acts, and apparently also are championship gymnasts who’ve appeared on Ukraine’s Got Talent.

Flight in Dreams (US)

William Wei-Liang Lin (TW)

Edouard Doye (FR)

Apparently a 2010 French pole dancing (?) champion.

Duo Fote Fore (GN/FR)

Wes Peden (US)

Troupe de Fujian (CN)

I’d never seen a coconut crab up close; one of the island’s rangers knew a hideout for one of the vicious little creatures. They’re, huge, quick, and intimidating, not something I’d want to have to share a room with. Apparently the beasties are mighty tasty in a butter sauce, though.