Kachin peoples Burma/Myanmar

Burma November 2007

It was my second trip to Burma and at that time Rangoon didn’t really interest

me photographically.  That has since changed.  Anyway I booked a flight from Rangoon to Myitkyna in Kachin state in the north of the country.  I don’t know

why but it doesn’t matter, I know everything happens for a reason. And it was a good one.

I liked the busy market town immediately.  It was humming with old cars, trucks and motorbikes all seemingly on their last legs. The Burmese are masters of keeping old vehicles on the road. On every street there was some kind of engine being dismantled or reassembled.  The locals were open and friendly and giggled shyly when I took their photos.

My hotel was on the main street. I didn’t find it, it found me. The owner who like most sat chewing bettle jumped up when he saw me and told me how lovely his hotel was. At that time lovely was not a word I used to describe Burmese hotels. Everything else in Burma can be described generally as lovely (my opinion}. I left my heart in Burma so my opinion is hugely biased.

The upshot, I stayed in his hotel which turned out to be very good in fact as Burmese hotels go.  I managed to procure a motorbike from the young manager in the hotel.

I was on my way!  It was and still is my fondest memory of Burma.  I got out into countryside and jungle and into villages the like of which I never imagined existed except in Hollywood movies.

The locals would run and hide as I arrived, the children were very afraid. I had been advised to bring pencils, pens and sweets {good advice}, and slowly the adults and children would emerge from behind their homes which were built of beautiful teak wood with banana leaf roofs.

I’m always struck by how different people look in photographs after a bond of trust has been formed. I don’t recognize them. It’s beautiful to see.

In Kachin state many people are roman catholic 40%, Baptist 44% having been converted by the British. The first mission building was built in 1868. The Kachin people took to the bible quickly because they believed it was the return of  their own lost scriptures.

As a photographer I also wanted to see the new hydroelectric station being built by the Chinese at Myitson. I did not know how bad the road would be. It was only 40 kms away yet it took me 2 hours to get there. Though of course I stopped for photos and also to stop my arms from shaking.

When I got there to the confluence of the Irrawaddy I noticed a large military presence and they noticed me. The confluence which is made up of the rivers Mali Hka and the N’Mai Hka flow down through a once densely forested area. The teak has been devastated for profit. The land revealing it’s rich ochre soil to the wide blue sky. A sad sight.

I took a boat over to the island and trekked for hours thru the thick jungle. I was ill equipped for such a trek and in hindsight completely crazy.  I had 2 cameras, flip flops and shorts. I woke up to my craziness on arriving in front of a thick spiders web and in the middle of it a huge spider. I have few phobias but guess which one I know I surely have? Yep that spider woke me the fuck up!

I backed up and changed course.  I began to feel lost and very tired having run out of water hours earlier a hint of panic started to set in. Luckily it wasn’t long after that I started to hear noises and realized I was getting close to the hydroelectric station. I was but so were the military, they were patrolling up and down the river. So once more I backed up and not so long after came across some boys hunting and trapping birds.

They laughed with fright or embarrassment but I guess from the look on my face they knew I was completely lost  and close to collapsing from dehydration. They signaled me to follow them and I did but at a much slower pace. We eventually came out of the jungle into a wide open space with some huts that made up a school.  The lady in charge had a baby in arms and greeted me warmly. She spoke some English and on noticing my lips stuck together she quickly scooped up a cup of water. I didn’t care at that moment about bacteria I drank with it dry instantly. And no I was not sick after it!

It was a long day. When I got back to Myitkyna it was dark and the road into town was thick with smoke from all the fires being lit in preparation for dinner, I thought I'd never find my way back to the hotel or that I’d hit or be hit by a car, truck or speeding motorbike. The beeping was non stop.

I stayed in Myitkyna for 6 days, everyday I went back to the same villages and sat down with them. They invited me into their homes, they fed me in so many more ways than with food.  We never spoke but we communicated and it was the most special time of my life. I didn’t want to leave.

Stallions of Haras du Pin in France

My wife on her antique bike always in front

Guided tour was really interesting

Last week-end I was invited to make a photo reportage at the grand national stud of France.

Once known as the Royal stud, Hara du Pin is  now the national stud.  My wife and I visited this majestic area last year and it was a pleasure to come back and work amongst my favourite animals. It also coincided with the fete de chasse which was also an eye opening experience.  We went to see the exhibition of Amerindian horse culture and life. It was an impressive display of paintings, photos, highly ornate headdresses and costumes and some fine statues which had been gathered from museums and private collections from all over the world.

How to get there? Take a train from gare Montparnasse 3 which is a long walk once you get into the gare. Be warned!

We got off at Argentan and finished the journey on bicycles. It was about 17 Kms and easy enough. even for me. The return is all downhill and a pleasure.

The surrounding landscape of lush green and rolling hills dotted with quaint villages (coffee stops) made the cycle less painful.

So if you need a break out of Paris and fancy some culture >

http://www.haras-national-du-pin.com/en/news/news/article/-b5e7292875.html

The Haras du Pin, the French National Stud founded in 1715 by decree of Louis XIV, is also known as "the Equestrian Versailles".  The superb estate and buildings bear witness to the respect in which man holds his "most noble conquest". The stables fan out in a horseshoe shape around the majestic courtyard, and house about forty breeding stallions of ten different races.

http://en.normandie-tourisme.fr/articles/haras-du-pin-384-2.html

http://www.haras-national-du-pin.com/en/le-haras-national-du-pin-se-devoile/history.html

Growing up with my unanchored father I ended up living in more places than I care to remember, never really knowing what's next.  In hindsight it was a great education, at the time it scared the shit out of me.

Now at 54 years of age I'm feeling nostalgic and regretful for the sale of a house that was never my home but a place of peace and a great escape from the oft crazy days of the life I once lived.

I found this place by chance over 30 years ago and it's charm and tranquillity seduced me instantly. Then some weeks later I hear that my father went, or had a friend go to an auction to do the bidding for him because my father wasn't a local.

Leonard Hayden
Ballinagoth

It's often like that.

It was Ballinagoth!

I was delighted if that's the right word to use, anyway I was chuffed maybe even jealous (though very unlikely) that my father had got this gem of a cottage.

Today it goes under the hammer, and perhaps that describes in an appropriate way the loss that I will feel when it's actually sold and no longer in the family.

As I said before we had many houses and they were just that, houses. They served a purpose and held no significant emotional attachment for me. Most I prefer to forget.

Ballinagoth was very different.

It had magic.

Ballinagoth: Town of the cots 

I spent less time in Ballinagoth than all the other houses yet I will miss it most. I will miss the sound of the stream that trickles by the boat when the tide is out, the hum of the bees in the trees and then the mornings incredible dawn chorus of what seems to be every bird in Ireland descending on our forest garden behind the cottage.

It's all that remains of my father. It was his paradise and refuge.

He called the pheasants and they came, he fed crows by hand and eventually he found that there was a place of peace.

Ballinagoth.

In front of the fire

I will still see the view

It's fitting that his old boat should still be there

Trying to look forward

I hope it goes to a good home

The salmon were disturbed but they'll be back

Great fun with two beds and two cousins

American Baptism in Paris

It was a busy week-end with photo tours around Paris. And thankfully the weather held up perfectly albeit a little cold. The Latin quarter and Montmartre really are a photographers delight and the time always goes all too fast.


Then on Sunday I had the privilege of witnessing and recording the baptism of Richard and Dominic sons of Edward and Karen-Anne in the American church here in Paris (http://www.acparis.org).
It was the first time I've shot a baptism here in the American church and as a so called "lapsed catholic" I enjoyed and appreciated the upbeat and fun atmosphere created by the preachers.



However the highlight was the choir and bell ringers. The music (bell ringers) really was of a high standard and the choir was equally enchanting.
And I imagined that I'd be bored stiff!
The sermon was a mix of bible and google talk, never thought that could be possible but these guys are keeping up with the times I guess.
Now to get to the point of this blog, photography!
I was banished to the wings of the church which created a serious problem of how to get a picture, and then came the second blow, no flash. In a dark church I had no choice but to use dangerously high ISO which creates digital noise   (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image_noise) and colour pixelation. Luckily I have great cameras, and I'm glad I bought 2 of them with me with some great L series lenses that have wide apertures like F1.4 and F2.8
without these lenses I may as well stay at home.






When it came to the baptism I discovered I was on the wrong side of the church and had to risk receiving the ire of the reverend but hell I had a job to do and a client to please and so I went for a run across the altar steps to the other side of the church. It happened all so fast, between the bowl of water being produced and the boys being baptised I'm glad I had my cameras set up to ISO 1250 otherwise I'd have missed the "big" shots. The reverend never said a word.
In sensitive or difficult situations my mantra is, "I'm a photographer and this is what I do".  And that is the difference between amateur and professional photographers. The amateur would still be standing there wondering...


 Kevin Hayden photography Paris and elsewhere.

Muscat tour with Abdullah

Abdullah Alraisi

Just like most things in my life visiting Muscat for a day was pure fluke. I'd like to say it was a well thought out plan having a full day in Muscat en route to Bangkok and Burma and having a wonderful guide waiting for me in the shape of Abdullah Alraisi.  My guide Abdullah was also down to the goodness of the Gods as he'd found me on a website travel forum on which I had been asking what could I do in 12 hours in Muscat. Many said take a taxi downtown, Abdullah said come with me and I'll show you Muscat, the hills and the markets. And that he did! He arrived in a very comfortable sedan and first things first he picked up a picnic for us. Our first stop was at the fish market which was a cacophony of sounds and smells and visual candy in the form of fish I'd never seen before. I wish I'd had a frying pan!
From there we headed for the Nakhal fort where Abdullah showed me around all the while explaining the functions of each room and area of the fort. The views from the fort give one a great view and perspective on the area which is open and vast until you reach the mountains.
And we did reach the mountains and the amazing Snake canyon. Once you open the door of the car you are struck by the silence, there is nothing but the beautiful peace of silence. Having come from Paris the peace and quiet were very welcome indeed.

We walked into the canyon and soon heard the laughter of children at play, their father greeted us and invited us to have coffee and dates. The coffee was a blend of Rose water, saffron, cardamom and coffee and this mixed with dates was equal to an angel crying on my tongue. The welcome and friendship that greets you immediately in Oman is unequalled by that of very few countries I know of, and it leaves a lasting impression.

En route to Snake canyon

The sheer scale of the mountains is pure majesty and the elegance of the mosques must be seen to be believed. So if you're a fan of photography and would like to learn more while visiting new places feel free to contact me for more information on my custom made
tours in France, Ireland, Burma and now Oman.

Virginia Hills

Every marriage I get to witness is a special moment in the lives of the people involved and no less my own. No matter where the location, and I've been lucky enough to shoot weddings in the USA, Burma, Cambodia, Italy, France, UK and Ireland and they have all touched me in some way. It really is an immense privilege to be such an important part of a couples union, and I never take this privilege for granted. After all is said and done it's only the photos that remain.

 The wedding of Delaney & Chris at Holbrook farm was a joyous event, and the joy was contagious. I felt right at home! But I have to watch that cos I can relax too much. Not good!
The barn was a Godsend when the rain arrived. Yes Irish people have a sixth sense for when the rain is going to arrive.

This morning I received an email from a young bride whose marriage I had the pleasure of recording and she praised my work and presence at her ceremony.  I then thought back to the wedding and realised that I still have very fond memories of this time in the hills of Virginia. I then asked myself why there was such a warmth to those memories? The answer was swift and obvious.  This morning I was also reminded to be in my heart and not in my head. These people were warm and welcoming and I felt at home immediately.  Perhaps flying so far away and taking more than a week to drive up to the location along the Blue Ridge Parkway, which itself was a perfect start, I felt nothing could go wrong and for once I was right.  The parents of the bride met me on my arrival to the farm, offered me a drink and told me to make myself at home. I did.

It was great to join them for the picnic and to have a chance to acquaint myself which also helps me to remember names and it helps the guests get used to my presence.

A touching moment between mother & daughter

The rehearsal was another fun moment. Very relaxed and informal, and the small kids gave me several funny snap shot opportunities.  The preparations for this wedding were extensive and to see the sense of community in action did me good spiritually. The neighbours and their teenage kids worked all day non stop without a complaint, it really was a community effort.
The neighbours supplied flowers, food, cakes, music and the all important ingredient of love that made this such a special occasion.

Delaney arrived in a 1954 Ford in the same family from day one

I'm now back in Paris and it seems a world apart from the quiet hills of Virginia but I have the photos to cherish and to remind myself of the fun we had.
When shooting weddings I always meditate beforehand and I always ask for guidance, and remind myself that I am not the one in charge. If I stay in my head I will miss the minuscule emotive moments that pass very quickly between people in love.  Mindful photography is essential learning.  It is my next project. Always.

Chris, ever the joker

 

Memories of war

The First World war

As I'm a photographer and definitely not a historian, nor a writer this will be brief!

It all began (supposedly) over the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand  and his wife Sophie Duchess of Honenberg (28th June 1914) at the hands of Gavrilo Princip who was rumoured to be a Serb activist. So it was from here it all spiralled out of control.

Austria and Hungary brutally attacked Serbia killing innocent civilians at will. It ended in less than a year. However the alliances of Russia to Serbia brought in the Germany. Then Germany invaded Belgium on August 4th, then Britain declared war at midnight August 4th on Germany in order to assist the Belgians.

Eventually 65 million soldiers would take up arms, 10 million of whom would perish. A further 20 million were irretrievably wounded both physically and emotionally.

So 100 hundred years later I find myself in the department of la Meuse and the town of Nancy. I had cycled this way in 2001 and enjoyed renewing my memories.

The memorials of the first world war are everywhere.  And as a photographer who enjoys recording what he sees I was in my element. A quick visit to the tourist office paid dividends. The young lady there said "if you want to get the authentic ambiance then go to le Éperges"! I did and I wasn't disappointed.

The enormous craters from the mines (battle of the mines) and the remaining trenches really did stir the emotions on this cold and damp January morning.

I visualised these young Germans dug in, laying in water up to their waists, sharing the space with rats and lice and I'm sure wondering why they were there and why did they have to die.

The Allied forces won this important battle April 9th 1915 but many lives were lost. 30 tonne mines don't take prisoners, and there were many.

http://www.abmc.gov/memorials/memorials/ms.php

Today looking across this peaceful landscape it's hard to imagine. In fact it's beyond my comprehension of how miserable conditions were for both sides.

I've often heard it said "lest we forget" and "we shall never let this happen again"

it's sadly true that talk is cheap and that war makes millionaires.

In memory of
The Fallen

I hope my photographs help to tell the story, that is my constant hope.