My last post was about the ghats, and Varanasi’s dealings with death and life side by side. In these images I hoped to capture the vibrant people, the spirit of the nightly puja, and the candidness I saw in this dualistic, enduring, city.
Tag: colorful
Rishikesh
Just beyond the city of Rishikesh there is a river town split in half by two bridges, Ram Jhula to the West and Laxman Jhula to the East. I am living on the third floor of an apartment in Ram Jhula that resemples the color of key lime pie. Between the two parts of town, a footpath winds along the Ganges, or the Ganga as people call it here. In those two kilometers I have come across gangs of boys romping in the Ganga, artists painting quietly, schoolchildren walking home holding hands, women singing and dancing in Puja, and many others that I hope to never forget. These images will be my safeguard for remembrance. 
Haridwar &
Today marked the end of my first week in India. On the first morning I barely made the train to Haridwar, sat in the wrong AC, and ended up sharing a compartment with five older Indian men who quickly behaved like my band of Uncles, sharing their chapati with me and trying to talk despite my inability to speak Hindi and their inability to speak English. One of them bought me a small Masala Chai, my first in India, and it was delicious. In Haridwar I went to Har Ki Pairi Ghat around 7am to watch thousands of people bathe in the Ganges and offer puja with more fervor than usual in honor of the new moon. The Ashram I stayed at was like a small haven from the craziness, right along a quiet part of the river where there were no people, just cows. I spent two days there then taxi’d to Rishikesh where I have been practicing yoga four hours a day. I’ve met amazing people thus far, on our first day together we bushwhacked our way to Neer Ghar Waterfall, were blessed in Mahadev Temple, and indulged in mango lassies. This is a taste of my beginning here. Enjoy.
Marjorelle Palace
Marrakech, Morocco.
I’m not sure that it’s technically a Palace, but I think this place deserves the name. Originally home to French Painter Jaques Marjorell, then Fashion Designer Yves St. Laurent; the palace is now where Laurent’s partner, French businessman Pierre Berger resides. The blue painted throughout the garden earned Jaques his own color: Marjorelle Blue.
Les Rues
French is the primary language spoken in Morocco.
Translation – Les Rues: The Streets
Enjoy.
Viola Jean Photography 