1,223 skyscrapers Thirty-six of the world’s 100 tallest residential buildings More buildings taller than 500 feet [150 m] than any other city More people in Hong Kong live or work above the 14th floor than anywhere else on Earth, making it the world’s most vertical city. HK from my eyes November 2 – 7.
Yoga
Glacier – CAMP
Over the weekend I had the privilege of attending the Women and Journalism Symposium annual CAMP in Whitefish Montana. I was surrounded by incredibly inspiring women from 6am, when I taught the early risers yoga class, till midnight when ladies gathered in the lodge bar, some in bathrobes others in suit jackets, talking about various importances in both realms: reporting and personal. On the last day of CAMP we had a few hours to spare, so a number of us drove into Glacier National Park. From the fall colored valley floor to the ragged pass dusted with hail, Glacier was breathtaking. It was the perfect ending to a weekend that reminded me of the vast possibility that exists before me in all things.
(Running into a classic car full of other JAWS ladies) 
Halibut Cove
Halibut Cove is a place unlike anywhere else. The tiny Alaskan town is made up of approximately 100 residents in the Summer and no more than 15 the remainder of the year. It has a mystical quality that seems to come down from the glacial mountains and settle at the sea. Within a day of being in the cove my friends and I were invited to play in a town softball game that marked the end of the season for those who leave the cove come labor day. That day the single restaurant, coffee shop and art gallery close till Memorial Day the next year. The people here really know each other. There are no vehicles, only the occasional four wheeler or golf cart moves between the spaciously placed homes, each one equipped with a dock and outhouse. My mind settled there. We hiked to a rather humbling glacier and stared at the deep blue ice that has been there for more than a century. We picked apples, made raspberry jam, and ate salmon that my friends Ian and Annie caught up the coast. I was reminded of a much more simple way of life that is by no means easy to sustain, but holds a richness that comes from interaction with the earth and sea around you. An ease I will remember. 
Alaska – The Sea
In Homer, Alaska there are T-shirts and hats with these words printed in block letters: “A Small Drinking Village with a Big Fishing Problem”. Much of the town exists on a spit five miles from the mainland. Old fisherman saloons and new, generic box houses line the scape of snowcapped mountains rising out of the ocean. It is truly an unusual place. We spent a brief amount of time in Homer then jumped on the Gizmo and made the trip to Halibut Cove. In our nine days in Alaska my friends and I spent a much of our time on the water fishing, kayaking, and paddle-boarding. These photographs are my homage to our time on the Alaskan sea. 
The Oregon Country Fair
A few weeks ago I jumped on the Starlight train down to Eugene to attend the rather other-worldly Oregon Country Fair. I met up with my friend Matthew Rowe who was writing and reciting poetry all weekend, and threw my things in his tawny Volkswagon van, our small sanctuary throughout the festival. People dawned outrageous costumes, or often hardly any clothing at all. Music streamed from each of the many stages, and performance art filled the empty spaces along the figure eight path that lined the fair. When I wasn’t photographing I had the pleasure of spending my time with two lovely ladies who called themselves Peep and Tom. As a Fair virgin, they made sure I was aware of and involved in the best parts of the weekend, from the sunrise baseball game to the wedding in the Labyrinth that I couldn’t quite stay awake for. 
May First
May First is tradition rooted in upholding principals of labor and respect for workers in Seattle and globally. This year people marched for worker’s rights in Mexico at the Driscoll Berries plant, for an end to police violence, and for curbing deportation in battleground states. It was a vibrant, positive march downtown, but as the daylight disappeared, the divide between police and civilians widened. Around 9pm I witnessed a young man named Samm (yes, with two m’s) stand between a crowd of young people and a wall of officers on bikes, and take a megaphone from a young woman yelling aggressive, accusatory things at the unmoving officers. “We have to stand together!” He yelled. “It isn’t us against them, it’s all of us trying to thrive in a system that is against us.” The crowd rebuffed him, then as his acuity became clear, they listened, and the mood changed. The police walked away, and the crowd dispersed into the lively streets of Capitol Hill. Regrettably, I didn’t have my camera at this point. I did approach Sam as he left his sidewalk stage and walk alongside him for a while. He told me that growing up,he was embarrassed when he had to tell friends that his mother was a police officer, but that he”s sick of that and it shouldn’t be that way. We are individuals. Some of us will abuse our power, and that needs to be addressed, but others are there to protect, there to serve, or maybe just there for a job. It is worth remembering. that there is never one side to a story that merits listening. 
Val Rosandra
On my last day in Italy I rode a bus into the mountains and debarked at a stop in the Val Rosandra Nature Reserve, moderately far from any signs of civilization. Unable to find directions in English, I asked a few climbers along the way and they were more than helpful. The canyon was breathtaking with it’s silvery trees and golden riverbed, home to a thin emerald line of water winding below the steep rocky trail. I reached the road in Rosandra just before sunset, starving, and lucky enough to find a delicious, modestly priced café. I accidentally bought something with meat in it. I didn’t care, I ate it anyway. The bus ride back to Trieste was an introspective one. I spent the last few hours before my train to Prague napping by the water. 
Slovenia & Italia
Slovenia stole my heart. The all-night train from Belgrade traversed Croatia in darkness then eased into Slovenia as the sun rose. I leaned out the window and let the cold March air touch my face as the train wound through along the breathtaking Sava river. When I arrived in Ljubljana I had hardly sleep, but I was too restless to stay in my hostel. I walked around the quaint city for 2 hours, enthralled with the inventive architecture and brightly painted exteriors. In the center of town sits a local market complete with a milk dispensing machine that is refilled every 4 hours with fresh, unpasteurized milk from a nearby farm. That night I went out by myself to a bar on the outskirts of town nicknamed the “Graffiti Bar”. It was worth the walk. I befriended a small group of Slovenians who whole-heartedly adopted me for the night. We drank Lasko and “Bear Blood”, danced inside and played music outside around the bonfire till 4am.
The next day I left for Lake Bled, a haven known as The Jewel of Slovenia. The name is not an exaggeration. The calm beauty of Bled was unparalleled on this trip. Abound with castles, placid water, and stunning views of the Alps, Bled was the kind of place I’d like to return to and stay a while. The 20 Czech hockey players in my hostel added an edge to the experience. I was talked into joining them for a late-night visit to the casino, which turned out being somewhat lucrative for me at the blackjack table. They were a rowdy bunch of characters if I’ve ever seen one. Undoubtedly a loving bunch. 
My next move was the Alpe Adia. The hike was primarily in nature, but it ended in the Italian port town of Trieste. Trieste is not a tourist town. I hardly met a soul who spoke English, and after days of hiking, I was used to minimal conversing. These two kind men below picked me up hitch-hiking over the Italian border from Slovenia. I’d veered from the trail and was nowhere close to the town I was supposed to be in. They laughed at my story and decided that I would go to lunch at a pizzeria with them and they would take me to San Lorenzo. In a patchwork version of Italian, Spanish and English, they told me about their grandchildren and asked about my parents, my travels, and my work. I was informed that I was their granddaughter for the day, and that if I needed anything while I was in the region I was to call or email them. When they dropped me off in San Lorenzo I was strangely glad I had gotten lost.
Belgrade
In Belgrád, Emilia and I met up with Sonja, another friend made in India last year. The three of us became close during our six week training course and the trip to Agra that we made upon it’s completion. It had been a year and two months, and it was heart-warming to hear Sonja’s exuberant voice. Her friends were lovely people, and the city had an openness to it that made me I fall in love with Belgrád in the two days that I spent there.
Viola Jean Photography 