Chinatown Crosswalk
On location in New York City’s Chinatown, shooting with the TB Unmasked team. Great sights and sounds and a fantastic lunch just steps from where this was taken.
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Farm to Table
At an open-air market filled with amazing foods in incredible colours, the result of the farming I’ve been seeing during my two week visit.
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Flower Market
Some of the beautiful flowers for sale at the Pike Place Market.
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Campanule
Thinking of Spring and the flowers for sale along Rue Mouffetard.
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Market Bridge
An afternoon walk through Lilongwe’s central market.
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Afternoon Traffic
Afternoon traffic in the Capital City neighborhood of Lilongwe.
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Market Produce
One of many roadside produce markets seen in Malawi, this one in Ntcheu, along the road between Blantyre and Lilongwe.
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Market Bikers
Biking through the center of Migowi, just a few hundred meters from the Healthy Center.
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Fresh Goat
Roadside meat for sale, between the city and Lilongwe International Airport. I didn’t stop, but wished I could have.
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Tunisian Idol
In my first few days in this country, I am perplexed by what appears to be a vast one-dimensionality to contemporary Tunisian music: the people all watch and listen to the same stuff. I’m not new to Arabic music. But with eerie similarity, it’s like The Big Game is on every channel, all day, all night, every day, every night. I don’t get it. I must be missing something.
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What this trip needs is MORE COWBELL
June 24th had slipped my mind. Across France, towns explode with the sound of music in the streets. And there are few accordions to be found. Last year on this date, I was in the southern town of Perpignan, where stages dotted block after city block, filling the city with rock, rap, jazz and curious performances best classified as “Noise.” But throughout Paris’ Latin Quarter this year, straight-ahead rock rules the day. Indie kids bang out Police covers with mangled English lyrics, others offer rambling guitar scenes conjuring the best and worst of Jerry Garcia and on other stages, serious, extended riff sessions abound, transcending all the languages spoken in the audience: everyone present understands loud. Including those of us lucky to have a hotel window within earshot of a stage. Or three stages
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Riding the Marrakech Express
Sir, please, come! It’s the best of the best! Please! Sir! Come and sit! Sir!” Having just finished a massive meal, I’m in no mood to eat. But I’m surrounded by tables piled high with tiers of fresh kabobs of spiced lamb and beef and fish and chicken.