Tag Archives: Travel

A concert in heaven

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For someone who loves the mountain so much just by looking at it, it comes as no wonder when I say that some things on my bucket list are elevation-related, that being a winter or summer activity,

I was in awe when I found some brave souls who wanted to join me in a fantastic adventure that included:

  • leaving at midnight, direction Alps.
  • trekking at around 4 am in complete darkness and below-temperature

All of this, to witness something magic: A concert of classical music at the top of the mountain. It started right before the first rays of light hit the bare rocks, at the top of the Dolomites…

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And then it’s there, the music starts, everyone snuggles up in the cold and enjoy the music, in silence. Not a single word is spoken, just listening to the sound of music.

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“Great things are done when men and mountains meet”, says Sounds of the Dolomites‘ motto. I can only agree to that.

This is one of the part of the concert, a special memory that will stay forever in my heart.

Amen to that.

 

Wish you were there? You can find more info about the beautiful area we were, in Trentino, Italy >>>  MADONNA DI CAMPIGLIO PINZOLO E LA VAL RENDENA

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The blog that used to be

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Hi there,

My name is Val and I used to write a (travel) blog.

It was filled with thoughts, some sadness, and lots of images. It was far from perfect, but it was a personal exercise for creativity and motivation.

That blog stopped being, one too many reasons involved. I spoke many times about this lack with fellow creatives (and I know it sounds douche to me to think I belong to that category just by typing words and posting images on an almost-free platform but bear with me), not finding the right way, or even a way, to be reconnected with the medium. Don’t get me wrong, I kept travelling, even if less than usual – fun fact, my less is always more than an average person – but I didn’t bring my better camera along, or worse, I didn’t take the right amount of time to reflect, select my feedbacks and rearrange the images afterwards. Basically, to get a grip on what I experienced, if you allow me to be annoyingly sentimental.

Now, I can keep digressing on how my mind was moulded into letting this blog silently die and live out, in my memory, of the words I will never type since it takes time, energy, even soul every so often to do this job. Yet, two years have passed by, many hard but good-in-the-end events happened to me… I am in a position now where I really want to amend that lack in mine.

I still have that pressing feeling I am pretending, but motivation is coming back, creativity then will follow. “To find me you have to get lost in my words and pictures. Visit my website!” says my patronising-much bio on Instagram. Well, I better go back finding myself, so I can post something better than this soppy, existential-crisis-of-a-self-called-artist chapter.

See you soon,

Val

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Cambodia, 2015 – never got around to write about it, too many photos, too many feels, cheers.

Brocante du Dimanche à Bordeaux

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The aesthetics provided at a flea market is something exceptional.

When I visited Bordeaux back in May I wasn’t expecting to meet on my way such a colourful display of objects, their lives intersected with the sun rays and people browsing around Saint-Michel.

How many people come to a flea market to hunt bargains, and how many simply to discover and be amazed by second-hand stuff, that at times is only junk, at times treasure.

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Things are scattered on the pavement, or hang along the church and its bell tower; sometimes they are displayed with a pleasant order, sometimes with a pleasant chaos. What strikes in taking a picture there is how crucial is what you frame, and from which angle. When here is definitely too much to look at and show, the game becomes to select & shoot.

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As an old James Bond movie says all of these photo exercise is ‘Rien que pour vos yeux’ (For Your Eyes Only).

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I’m like the road, just going on – Taipei version

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3 days in Taipei, all by myself.

What happens naturally, when alone, is excitement. No schedules, no waiting, plenty of time for thinking and for photography. There is also, however, a small component of loneliness and a bit of fear, especially at night. Maybe a pre-concept of my parents’ predicaments when I was a child, maybe a bit of melancholy thinking that I could have brought someone with me. I guess these thoughts are part of what travelling solo for a woman means. So I embraced it.

I took lots of pictures. I shared my loneliness with fellow lonely commuters in the MRT, fantasising if they were feeling a bit like me. Just going on.

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Under secular trees, I explored empty streets. Just going on.

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I took photos, loads of photos, and enjoyed the colours and images of advertisements in the shops. Just going on.

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I spend an entire day without phone and camera, only a paper map as a friend. I got lost more times I’ll ever admit. I had yummy food at food stalls, restaurants and street markets. I don’t usually take picture of my food, because I simply eat it. Not enough Millennial, I know.

I contemplate stuff, I contemplate not judging things I could not understand, like this dadaist mirror, for example:

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I saw incredible temples, then I spent Easter in a Chinese-Buddhist temple with hundreds of people leaving useless non-spiritual stuff as offers. Again, I pushed myself to check only the aesthetics of it, leaving comments behind, because “You know nothing, Jon Snow” can be applied to every tourist. Just going on.

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I fairly enjoyed the shopping, the music in the street, happy faces of youngsters walking the lanes. Just going on.File0717

I kept going on, street after street, station after station. I explored, witnessed and silently reacted to everything.

Green Taipei

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It was fairly cold when I landed in Taipei, one night in March 2016.

From the bus window, only darkness and dim lights from apartments and lamp posts. What that gloomy night was hiding me was the perfect green colours all over the city, on hills, parks and gardens.

A luxury to wake up the next morning to, buzzin’ to explore everything.

Parklife has always been a beloved topic of mine, and I apologise for creating boredom with yet another blog post about Val visiting a park but really… what’s best than nature? Humans can try to excel with art/creativity/design/architecture and then just stop reflecting under the shadow of a tree, a friendly refuge for every soul.

When I visited Singapore’s Gardens I was struck by how that tropical composition was an essential part of the city. Taipei’s gardens were more part of daily life of its citizens. I saw people resting, praying, exercising, living. The only difference from a normal park in Europe is the hills, that firmly hug the metropolis and provide challenging walks and breath-taking views. Something quite magical, if I may add.

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E28 Tram Lisbon: tourist jam

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If you do the most touristy thing ever, chances are there won’t be any place to sit.. or to look outside and take the most charming pictures of the day. I took tram line 28 in a sweaty afternoon of July and I found myself fighting to stand, in such a cramped space that reminded me of a New York subway afterwork.

Bar the annoyance of the first minutes, I started enjoying the fact I could not see the beauty and uniqueness outside and started taking pictures of my fellow tourists lucky enough to look outside.

The result is this photo album, enjoy.

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Frankly the best stopover of my life: Lisbon

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If you take in consideration the amount of times I mention my melancholic soul, or when it clearly shows up in my words, you might understand how much I was longing to visit Lisbon. But then money, time, flight routes didn’t align. Until recently. I had my little slice of Lisbon, on my way to Spain, and it felt like I was finally reunited with myself.

It might have been the many houses crowded in the hills facing the sea, the churches and palaces popping up like flowers at every corner.

It might have been how the black and white stones on the pavements, the arches and main squares interact with the wind.

It might have been the sun peeking through the window of its trams, or the shadow created under the gigantic bridge in Alcantara.

It might have been, maybe,  the city talking to me, while I thought I was spending the day only with my very own inner voice, bad jokes included.

In less than 24h I kept moving, so did my mind. I came up with new stories, galvanised by the constant ocean breeze. I didn’t see much, mainly because I didn’t plan on a stopover-experience overkill, anyhow I felt a lot and that mattered.

I can’t wait to come back for more, Lisbon, wait for me.

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The Palermo Affair…

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As I self-describe myself, I’m a Nordic creature. I am very used, and much in love, with the peace given by following the rules, getting all tucked up in layers, and being surrounded by green and blu sceneries, especially if gifted, from time to time, by white snowflakes.

I know, I sound like a broken record and every time I travel south I start blabbering about it, but desert somehow makes me uncomfortable. I have, anyhow, found the perfect balance when I travel during autumn and winter time to southern locations, such as I did with Palermo.

It turned out to be a delightful weekend, marked in my memories to come “The Palermo Affair”.

So much to tell. First, people are vocal, loud and generally happier than the people I met in northern Italy. How come, since the city is, in fact, a tropical mess? The walks ups and downs the city center made me believe that it’s a mix of factors, such as the sun – less aggressive this time of the year – and the food that make the difference.

Hey, it’s for sure not roses and unicorns, lots of houses and streets are just broken and decadent, you can tell the majority doesn’t live a pretty rich life, and some parts leaves you with a sense of unsafeness, but for some aspects, it looked a nice place to spend holiday, maybe also to live for a bit.

Second thing, the landing was in one of the most impressive set ever, between a mountain and the sea. So peculiar, so lovely.

Another thing I noticed was the unusually high number of shops for male clothing, that you can combine with the fact that men are quite attentive – and again vocal -to women, you get the idea that Sicily is still pretty much a male-based community… I can hear Trump cheering.

On the bad note, I spoke with some of them, especially at the restaurants where I had incredibly-good-but-overpriced fresh fish, and they all told me I do not look Italian. So they were applying the price for foreigners.

Anyhow, I spent two days roaming around the streets, visiting the x wonderful baroque churches, visiting the street markets, eating yummy fish and soaking up under the sun at the harbour. It was a positive getaway weekend, indeed.

Remember me to go more often to a seaside city. The sea is food for soul.

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Postcards from Bruxelles

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I really wanted to vent about Bruxelles, city I didn’t like and could not wait to leave, but in the end I found out I had few nice shots of the capital.

So here’s a selection of the snaps taken by my trusted LX100, dedicated to Fabio.

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And b/w
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