Matt Feldman Photography
In the fog of the late afternoon, there was only noise. So thick was the mist in the air that the famous falls were invisible, even standing right…
New Year’s Day meant a long drive from Toronto to Baltimore. It was a slight detour to visit the Falls, but worth the diversion to spend a few…
Taken during my ill-fated attempt at a timelapse photography using a tripod mounted on a moving kayak. At least I kept the boat upright and my glasses on my…
Amidst two feet of snow, ice and general Decemberish weather on the shortest day of the year, this shot from this summer struck me as the polar opposite…
Another from the swamp in Edgewood, about a half hour north of Baltimore. It should be worth returning in a few months amidst the snow and frozen water.
I’m trying to have my camera with me more often, and stumbling upon a swamp with interesting trees is reward enough for carrying my gear around.
Shot from a moving van after visiting the Seno Otway penguin colony, I just missed a Ñandu (similar to an Ostrich) that was running across the field. This…
Three lone trees near my hotel in Downtown San Diego.
I ride a school bus every morning now. Again. A big yellow one. With green vinyl seats you peel yourself off of in hot weather. With the fold-out STOP sign. With the flashing lights. With the windows that only slide halfway down, enough to only tease riders about relief from the stifling environs. But my lunch hasn’t been stolen (yet), so things are still good.
Back in Selcuk, a working-class town devoid of much decoration or fanfare, I await my next bus while taking photos of kids playing in the streets. After a quick meal at a neighborhood eatery, my next stop is Pamukkale.
Having acquired some kind of cold in Marrakech, I’ve started to cough. I hoped that good food and the warm air would snuff it out before it (and I) became a nuisance. No such luck. I awake today to begin a two-day mountain trek with a full-blown hacking cough.
Despite the theft of my wallet and the ensuing hassle that caused, Lisbon (are its residents called “Lisbians”?) was nice. Any city moves up in my rankings when it can offer me an enormous meal of a whole fish, soup, potatoes and vegetables for less than five dollars.
Run to the ocean, run to the sea.” Or, in my case, run straight back into a major snowstorm whose howling winds scream “Welcome back, sucker!” The yin and yang of travel continued to the end. The bitter, cold, snowy, icy, sucky end.
As I write this from an internet cafe in Auckland, I am awaiting lunch, awaiting my bus to the airport, awaiting my flight home (fingers crossed for a cancellation). New Rule: Buses loaded with Japanese tourists, faces pressed to the glass, all holding cameras (some holding two), can appear at any time, in any location.
It began this morning in Taupo with a 5 am wakeup call for the bus ride to Tongariro National Park. The bars were still bumping and thumping with New Year’s festivities, but I suited up with cold weather gear, attempting to be prepared for the Tongariro Crossing, billed as New Zealand’s most spectacular one-day walk.
Going drinking last night was a wonderful reacquaintance with city life. Shops, bars, public transit, streetlights — the sweet signs of a major metropolitan area. And a break from hostelling, staying at Helen’s house in Wellington, was a perfect respite.
Absolutely Brilliant” reports the Sea Conditions board of the whale-watching shop in Kaikoura. But a cruise doesn’t appear to be in the works for my afternoon. It’s 11 am, but without a reservation, I am the 34th person on the waiting list.
A Christmas carroll singalong concert in the park. Mean black swans the size of 8-year olds. Casinos and strip clubs around every corner, almost as frequent as churches. There are steaming and wheezing and erupting geysers. Volcanoes. Boiling and belching mud pits. It all has an intrinsic juju that evokes the future that theologians have promised the wicked among us.
Kia ora, everyone! It’s that time of year again. Time to polish those brass knuckles for yet another pre-holiday stampede-like trip to the mall. Time to take a page from Elvis’ playbook and shoot out those radio speakers after the bazillionth grocery store listening of Chimpmunks Christmas songs.