tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7968071720852502122024-03-22T10:12:42.097+01:00Travel and... Action!We travel, and we shoot...
Our vision of the world through the lens and the written word.
We travel to India, Bangladesh, through the lands of the great Himalayan rivers: the Ganga and the Brahmaputra.The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-32391071732018192342009-08-28T12:38:00.006+02:002009-10-14T18:37:21.750+02:00HIGHWAY OF ARUNACHAL PRADESHTravelling the Indian State of Arunachal Pradesh is not an easy issue.<br />This State is situated in the Himalayan Hills. There are few cities and reaching any of them takes a long time. The most common means of transport are jeeps called “Sumo”. They are normal jeeps but they stuff at least 10 people in each of them, so during the journey you lose the sense of time, space and...of your body. <br />But the landscape over there is amazing, take a look!<br /><br /><object width="330" height="220"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/E-aiefmX1cg&hl=es&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/E-aiefmX1cg&hl=es&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="330" height="220"></embed></object>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-76170650395069762222009-08-14T15:20:00.004+02:002009-08-14T16:10:23.475+02:00HANGING BRIDGES IN ARUNACHAL PRADESH, INDIAFar away from the cities, in the middle of the pre Himalayan hills, connecting the villages can be quite complicated. The river Siang, coming from the Tibetan Plateu, forms a deep gorge which divides the state of Arunachal Pradesh. Crossing this river is almost impossible.<br />Far away from the “cement civilisation” men have learned from spiders how to get over this problem, weaving bridges with bamboo.<br />One of this is situated about 30 km north of the city of Pasighat. Going there by jeep from the city can take 3 hours but it's worth visiting this hanging 250 meters long roller coaster.<br />The structure is entirely made of bamboo, apart from some metal cable, which do not transmit reliance. The floor creaks and squeaks, the entire structures swings and balances under your steps.<br />Below, between the bamboo weaving of the floor, some 30 meters down, the rivers flows loudly, leaving you breathless.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ww6gEO7zoko&hl=es&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ww6gEO7zoko&hl=es&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com226tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-81287623140437439662009-06-01T21:13:00.008+02:002009-06-01T21:45:15.125+02:00DIBRUGARH: LIVING WITH A RESTLESS NEIGHBOURSituated in the Northeast part of Assam, Dibrugarth is a quite busy city: apart from being the seat of one of the most prestigious Medical College of India, it is the headquarters of the homonimous District. It is also called “tea city” because it is surrounded by tea gardens where the majority of Assam tea is produced.<br />Nowadays Dibrugarth lies on the Brahmaputra's bank, but it has not always being the like this.<br />Before 1950 the river Dibru, which gave the name to the city, used to flow nearby the centre. It was one of the tributary of the Brahmaputra and their confluence was 18 km from Dibrugarth.<br />On the 15 August 1950 a earthquake with a magnitude 8.6 devastated the area and caused a sudden movement of the Brahmaputra, which begone to flow in the place were before there was Dibrugarth. ¾ of the buildings were washed away with their inhabitants.<br />After the disaster the Brahmaputra had found its new watercourse and the city had to adapt to the new situation. A barrier was built to protect the centre and the Medical School.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFqM2xETZEdxtxoRz9lVEB_cqGtZN0a6NLXtkHbxjO996UYVGaNL20Kp-JQyARVo_yDu1M_C3gCO1GG9SMox2HQ9_mLtpOF9IrowKe3a_XPq00xhfXy5Iw45w_GqVGfQNBvSTsATYZSCn/s1600-h/panorama.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFqM2xETZEdxtxoRz9lVEB_cqGtZN0a6NLXtkHbxjO996UYVGaNL20Kp-JQyARVo_yDu1M_C3gCO1GG9SMox2HQ9_mLtpOF9IrowKe3a_XPq00xhfXy5Iw45w_GqVGfQNBvSTsATYZSCn/s320/panorama.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342443376894621042" /></a><br />Today the big river with its 10 km of width, is still there, reminding to everybody his power and its unpredictable nature.<br />We have been there during the dry season and there was a strange atmosphere: from the centre a gentle slope of few metres lead us to the top of the barrier. The river was there, wide and smooth, as it was always been in that exact place, as if that was ITS place.<br />The element out of place were humans: a thin barrier separates the water from the buildings which are down the water level. On the barrier the poorest had built their own slum: a stripe of straw-coloured bamboo huts separated the green of the water from the grey of the city.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIgHtpPqvcDMQkuoaS9R7Us1r0etVVz6kg_tPdUbrhFwCJxJ7cSQ5vr9mgEAoMkB4EuaZ49-URjLwtFib8_JwZCzGhg8dkxJkJCIM-NyshUct5RcuRxuLXOs1sX7s2ASVCJ-Z4nizsCSS-/s1600-h/capanne.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIgHtpPqvcDMQkuoaS9R7Us1r0etVVz6kg_tPdUbrhFwCJxJ7cSQ5vr9mgEAoMkB4EuaZ49-URjLwtFib8_JwZCzGhg8dkxJkJCIM-NyshUct5RcuRxuLXOs1sX7s2ASVCJ-Z4nizsCSS-/s320/capanne.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342443801329889954" /></a><br />On the bank of the barrier the life sprang out: workers, dhabas (which are small restaurants with food and tea, really common in all India), rickshaw, children and so on: an unbelievable activity!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofcEb554SpRUIMV3Aisd7B1Hgr26NJDsJPe6itDdhYBTvRkNV2ohFwyDWT-ZUsDrZrysrulCuQlWOz8jfnzMXmkQ7cQbqk-zrvvKfrbSDZeooPs4Fcm860lHWbJl8qFIeuJJN1Bzr0zTx/s1600-h/bibmi.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofcEb554SpRUIMV3Aisd7B1Hgr26NJDsJPe6itDdhYBTvRkNV2ohFwyDWT-ZUsDrZrysrulCuQlWOz8jfnzMXmkQ7cQbqk-zrvvKfrbSDZeooPs4Fcm860lHWbJl8qFIeuJJN1Bzr0zTx/s320/bibmi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342445017104680914" /></a><br />Later that day, people who live in the centre told us that during the rainy season the river reaches the border of the barrier and sometimes it inundates Dibrugarh.<br /><br />The question is: where do slum's people go when, during the rainy season his Majesty the River, demands his land?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHmw7sirRfPHmLM7rLQbLl3a_uzeB0OqJUSNgVutrseIph1fT082NpGmlmA0maQMfaaUv2KtTYbVzfwz2NYSUGwF7EMwJaIEpkMLMjr0KyNLRuT6HZzViJx3XKcCDeQXX4WAy-oXL5zNk/s1600-h/uomo+zucchero.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHmw7sirRfPHmLM7rLQbLl3a_uzeB0OqJUSNgVutrseIph1fT082NpGmlmA0maQMfaaUv2KtTYbVzfwz2NYSUGwF7EMwJaIEpkMLMjr0KyNLRuT6HZzViJx3XKcCDeQXX4WAy-oXL5zNk/s320/uomo+zucchero.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342443612720107570" /></a>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-54408376512715586542009-05-15T18:04:00.014+02:002009-05-15T18:51:48.427+02:00DONYI POLOThe traditional religion of Arunachal Pradesh is called Donyi Polo.<br />It means “sun and moon”, in fact the main divinities are the Sun and the Moon which are considered the eyes of gods and nothing can be hidden to them.<br />People in Arunachal worship also other divinities such as the ancestral spirits. Often each God is linked to a specific aspect of daily life such as agriculture.<br />Despite the fact that Donyi Polo is deep rutted in local culture, there is a growing preoccupation amongst some members of the society because other religions are spreading into Arunachal Pradesh. <br />Apart from the Hindus, coming from the neighbouring Assam, there are also many Muslins belonging mostly to the community of Bangladeshi immigrants. Least but not last, a lot of local people are converting to Christian faith and the number of Missions has increased in the last years.<br />The worry is that the new religions with their rituals, rules and customs will destroy the heritage not only of the Donyi Polo, but also other tribal traditions.<br /><br />People who still believe in Donyi Polo practice a lot of rituals. For example they build totems as a homage to Gods. There are different kind of totems. Some represent the number of children living in the house, other are very high and their function is to connect the earth to the sky, and men to Gods.<br />Some rituals are very complicated and long. For example we have assisted to a harvest festival. <br />All the people were convened in one house, sharing food and wine. Almost everything was derived from rice, including alcohol. <br />Inside the house a wizard was constantly singing a singsong, holding in his hand some little chicken.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9nmM6nHzbJizVq9rC7XBKp6rXInSduqYtAvPAPsKlZfPTe_jMLi0F4jvqXzFix7doYswck31Pv78malMK9SyUPk7QQIo96-dTC2QTEO2ZzG840h9eQy915QuaqGoZ-fpMasWI0xZihp0/s1600-h/mago_edited-1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9nmM6nHzbJizVq9rC7XBKp6rXInSduqYtAvPAPsKlZfPTe_jMLi0F4jvqXzFix7doYswck31Pv78malMK9SyUPk7QQIo96-dTC2QTEO2ZzG840h9eQy915QuaqGoZ-fpMasWI0xZihp0/s320/mago_edited-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336094301922739970" /></a><br />After few time the action moved into an open field, in the middle of the rice field. Here there was a hut. In front of the hut there were some totems and the main offer waiting for being blessed by the wizard: a bull. <br /><br />The man kept singing his obsessive song, while started killing the little chicken.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitLFY1gL3B3hUkxBYqN2YdmClzm6jdvCB4mLh4m1sCkiZdJq2l8KfB4dY7GZLPMLiheylEVq_zd4UAygJUkARkjyuwERycARUB3KPVg_pvbFUziAiwgm2nxjhgZ6oI1x8u3WaIqAtVOCFd/s1600-h/ascia.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitLFY1gL3B3hUkxBYqN2YdmClzm6jdvCB4mLh4m1sCkiZdJq2l8KfB4dY7GZLPMLiheylEVq_zd4UAygJUkARkjyuwERycARUB3KPVg_pvbFUziAiwgm2nxjhgZ6oI1x8u3WaIqAtVOCFd/s320/ascia.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336089745400187346" /></a><br />At the same time other men rounded the bull and finally, at a wizard's signal, one of them axed the bull. In an eye blink the bull was killed and slaughtered. <br /><br />The offer was made, the Gods were happy, now it was the time to go back to the house and keep on celebrating.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPKWHnUkddTcllu-oImoQUKi-gU12LG-sDan406vPRHPvtE3RZ-MKiNGciz-IiEOyOF4vE_7AjhzN8kS-urK7rZS21fEk1PKckM8q12WDrRA47uzVhIkrlfAMZImccW7QC8c1lO96OXVlA/s1600-h/testa+mucca.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 237px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPKWHnUkddTcllu-oImoQUKi-gU12LG-sDan406vPRHPvtE3RZ-MKiNGciz-IiEOyOF4vE_7AjhzN8kS-urK7rZS21fEk1PKckM8q12WDrRA47uzVhIkrlfAMZImccW7QC8c1lO96OXVlA/s320/testa+mucca.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336092121683459602" /></a>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-50319907694814511152009-05-03T21:10:00.013+02:002009-05-03T23:36:32.441+02:00TRIBES IN ARUNACHAL PRADESH - THE APATANIFor long time Arunachal Predesh has been defined as “tribal area” and until 1994 it was impossible for strangers to enter. Today a special permit is still required also for Indian people and it is only since the 1st January 2009 that is possible for stranger to travel here without a guide. <br />We have been there in February so we were one of the first backpacker and people were surprised because we did not have any guide. Often they offer to help us and show the beauty of their land.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOS9qNTxzp73QDTcrPGjtYNtVaWEb50BmPqo7RbuA7B7lio8I3ykye5VlD-K2Zdy0K-jT_ycw1HnKan2Zt2XLS0eUsYy1sHuXEOBuS6Wlk3gQH2TlMlg0mE-Nmgal6wx_rkxxKQ9OBZ5Pq/s1600-h/mojon.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOS9qNTxzp73QDTcrPGjtYNtVaWEb50BmPqo7RbuA7B7lio8I3ykye5VlD-K2Zdy0K-jT_ycw1HnKan2Zt2XLS0eUsYy1sHuXEOBuS6Wlk3gQH2TlMlg0mE-Nmgal6wx_rkxxKQ9OBZ5Pq/s320/mojon.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331684449207137506" /></a><br />In Arunachal Pradesh coexist more than 20 different tribes. Each tribe has its own habits and costumes. We have seen some of them. One of the most interesting is the Apatani tribe and we have been near Ziro in the village of Hong to see them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ETJRmkUL6B4cbr7IKxrlRZV2_xGXZi2Il_5brx4JXo2vtm2cXy3hft6INXVU0ZzkktCTnDcKkeUzjNfPqGmUhaG_XeAPz2yauNVWqmxfaYCznGVka7hS0h6mAl5PJzRK0-nfLOct6AZf/s1600-h/casa+apatani.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ETJRmkUL6B4cbr7IKxrlRZV2_xGXZi2Il_5brx4JXo2vtm2cXy3hft6INXVU0ZzkktCTnDcKkeUzjNfPqGmUhaG_XeAPz2yauNVWqmxfaYCznGVka7hS0h6mAl5PJzRK0-nfLOct6AZf/s320/casa+apatani.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331687704953964034" /></a><br />The villages are build almost completely with bamboo and straw, houses are higher than the soil in order to prevent inundation during the rainy season. The villages are rounded by rice fields and bamboo forests. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9XYjcBtaBcWp-7Ji8jpErKmDihyphenhyphenbcoauGKazckpBQCuQmomUY4hpiBN6b8RQICWLLpJclTQOyoTVOxJTJgri8IvkIAGCiimHgwSEYW6yzdcWY1lnfeIysR0s1D9-RaXJvb7pXoQ3rqVY/s1600-h/nonnina.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9XYjcBtaBcWp-7Ji8jpErKmDihyphenhyphenbcoauGKazckpBQCuQmomUY4hpiBN6b8RQICWLLpJclTQOyoTVOxJTJgri8IvkIAGCiimHgwSEYW6yzdcWY1lnfeIysR0s1D9-RaXJvb7pXoQ3rqVY/s320/nonnina.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331690814490475650" /></a><br />People are nice, and looked at us with curiosity, because apparently strangers are not so common in this zone. But this feeling was mutual, especially because Apatani woman use to have unusual features: their noses are pierced and they have tatoos on their faces.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv72eRKjWVndmWvdUNRn0dxc4ntz3OPK_xoobKTo49JfS_BREUzw83b1YlETPPuo2gwm4UZtYF5rFISJiQClcithhkbsqvFxEESdSJeUw1o7coFxmGMenMAPUAWb2hP87hq8LWXkl0kW3v/s1600-h/apatani.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv72eRKjWVndmWvdUNRn0dxc4ntz3OPK_xoobKTo49JfS_BREUzw83b1YlETPPuo2gwm4UZtYF5rFISJiQClcithhkbsqvFxEESdSJeUw1o7coFxmGMenMAPUAWb2hP87hq8LWXkl0kW3v/s320/apatani.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331685620083368402" /></a><br />According to the legend, this habit comes from ancient times when Apatani women were the most beautiful of the region. In order to avoid other tribes men to marry them, Apatani women start to tatoo and pierce their faces to appear less attractive. Nowadays only old women can be seen wearing these features because the community decided to ban this practice in the late '70, endorsing people who refused to respect the ban.<br />But other traditions keep alive in the villages. We have been lucky because we had the opportunity to assist to a tribal religious ceremony...but this will be the topic of the next entry.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFCTfZ4NAHez9izYsnp2nhO0HY9BQJGADBCDdpYl3avVodeBzbZw3QE6_3l3w0IYzpwBTR8NxIM8CnRCabo2AuYTAM41TAI_tZbjvOZ6HhH0I-xEgRtHb0pgTCEaZPa-N2OyS5FYdo0_rb/s1600-h/mucca+piccola.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFCTfZ4NAHez9izYsnp2nhO0HY9BQJGADBCDdpYl3avVodeBzbZw3QE6_3l3w0IYzpwBTR8NxIM8CnRCabo2AuYTAM41TAI_tZbjvOZ6HhH0I-xEgRtHb0pgTCEaZPa-N2OyS5FYdo0_rb/s320/mucca+piccola.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331681412864030690" /></a>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-39970633953559973822009-04-03T19:13:00.007+02:002009-04-04T16:48:40.410+02:00CHERRAPUNJEE, THE RAIN DESERT<A href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6hdOAWX1zIkeZ6QTeTq6tQBHWLaE1zOVQ2kvIrbBOgnVD20yC08oswaPcZcssc-fjsKQeUR6QcKPLxZbRAD1YMwbAY4F_u50IWlvXDg3PtTaHZI7MA2maxhym3Zu4JBjALEnoVnIvpBXV/s1600-h/desierto.jpg"><IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320743387245214962 style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6hdOAWX1zIkeZ6QTeTq6tQBHWLaE1zOVQ2kvIrbBOgnVD20yC08oswaPcZcssc-fjsKQeUR6QcKPLxZbRAD1YMwbAY4F_u50IWlvXDg3PtTaHZI7MA2maxhym3Zu4JBjALEnoVnIvpBXV/s320/desierto.jpg" border=0></A> <br /><br />On the border of the Meghalayan plateau, just before a big drop into the flat Bangladesh, there is the world’s rainest place: Cherrapunjee. The avarege rainfall in this area is 11,43 m per year, but the record is 22,98 m, reached in 1861. Despite this fact, the tribal name of this place is Sohra which Kashi language maens “without fruit, unfertile”. It could sound like a joke, but once you take the road to reach the village, you understand that Khasi don’t have a strange sense of humor: the landscape around Cherrapunjee seems the perfect scenary for a Western movie. <br />The road runs through a desert plateau, interrupted only by groups of monolytes, placed there by tribal people as an offer to the gods for a newborn baby. <br /><br /><A href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJF1mbkFZGHZsybCovIaWi2ASz9xYODqxcVnsGwB2Ku3AUYXwdlzMN3vY6CBVTZh7jifVWfAyhCLcbMFu16uN5rfrIwF2rgzcBIaVLkla_2GYr6umsI8C1vCDnhP4BgGxDzX8Y_Fg0D2pI/s1600-h/monolito.jpg"><IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320742949210314722 style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJF1mbkFZGHZsybCovIaWi2ASz9xYODqxcVnsGwB2Ku3AUYXwdlzMN3vY6CBVTZh7jifVWfAyhCLcbMFu16uN5rfrIwF2rgzcBIaVLkla_2GYr6umsI8C1vCDnhP4BgGxDzX8Y_Fg0D2pI/s320/monolito.jpg" border=0></A> <br /><br /><br />From time to time a deep canyon marks the border of the highland. The cut in the earth is clear and chuckhole is so amazing that during the dry season is difficult to imagine how that place should be during the rainy season, when all the rain that falls in the area finds its way to the sea by jumping down those high cliffs. A luxury of vegetation can be spotted finally on the bottom of the canyon, several meters below. <br /><br /><A href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs9YIda2Hu6867jy5KO64YQhqArjUvAgQLvLJffCtabc9-E_T_4-xxwt_xFvflANHUOKkdezFEYk0N20Gfmo3Dkvu57BmysHKeAEfv2dShxKWgf0ttBfKTi4y5aDhcB9YpM1w1ZmWeyV_A/s1600-h/cliff.jpg"><IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320743175621267442 style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs9YIda2Hu6867jy5KO64YQhqArjUvAgQLvLJffCtabc9-E_T_4-xxwt_xFvflANHUOKkdezFEYk0N20Gfmo3Dkvu57BmysHKeAEfv2dShxKWgf0ttBfKTi4y5aDhcB9YpM1w1ZmWeyV_A/s320/cliff.jpg" border=0></A> <br /><br />Life in this place can be defined at least as peculiar: 5 months of almost uniterrupted heavy rain take turn to 7 months of an harsh dry season. Khasi people had found a way to dominate such a difficult nature. Maybe the most interesting example of this adaptation are the “living root bridges”. As their name suggests, these bridges are made by the roots of a special tree, forced to follow wires until they form the structure of a bridge. This process lasts at least 25 years but they require costant maintenance. Due to the desert highland, these bridges can be found only on the bottom of the canyons. In order to reach them, you have to follow a steep footpath in the deep forest. I leave to your judgement if it is worth it! Enjoy the short film.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hEI_GRjvDPk&hl=es&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hEI_GRjvDPk&hl=es&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><OBJECT class=BLOG_video_class id=BLOG_video-FAILED height=266 width=320 contentId="FAILED"></OBJECT>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-19668626889295455122009-01-13T06:14:00.006+01:002009-01-17T12:21:12.721+01:00Cyclone shelter in BangladeshNearly two months ago we were travelling through the south of Bangladesh. In the region named Khulna one can arrange a cruise to the Sundarbans, the famous mangrove swamp. Coming back to those moments, we recall the spotting of a cyclone shelter in the village at the entry point to the reserve. This spot, at the shore of a main channel of the delta that feeds part of the Sundarbans was visited by us for some moments, just the time to get an entry permission and board two officials.<br />We were walking into that village, leaving the water behind, surrounded by all the kids that at that time were off school, when we saw a cyclone shelter among some other rudimentary constructions, a few huts, and a public school, with a metal plate that told us that it was constructed with Australian funds. This was of the same kind we have seen about a year ago in Orissa, India, where cyclones cause destruction from time to time. Essentially we were in the same lands, although in different countries.<br />A cyclone shelter is basically a solid building, an elevated construction that provides security from the winds and upcoming water. The foundations are such that dissipate energy from upcoming flood waves from the sea or from riverine floods, with a semi pyramidal shape. Above it, at some meters from the ground, one or more spacious rooms are to provide shelter to a number of people. Then, above it, an open rooftop dominates the landscape.<br />These buildings are designed to cover a certain amount of population, therefore, in a region like this it is not difficult to find more than one. Indeed, when a cyclone shows up, the time to reach the shelter may be crucial.<br />Education of the population, or better said, letting people know how and when to use the shelter is a major issue. Seminars and explicative paintings around the shelter cover that function, so that people know how to proceed at the time all hear the hand-syren calling people in.<br />Nevertheless, speaking with people all this time, we got to know how the perception of a cyclone may differ from us. In this region strong wings and floods are frequent, if not seasonal, and not always hold a destructive force. Some people, used to these events, show reluctant to abandon all to go sheltered, completely unknowing the power that the cyclone might have. Not long ago a huge one showed up, just one year before our trip, one day of October. Many people did not hear the alarms, some misheared them, and many died.<br />From there we continued deep into the forest.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Exvtl18VY5o&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Exvtl18VY5o&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-8108319082213545952009-01-02T11:04:00.004+01:002009-01-02T11:30:25.146+01:00Nepal: In Volta we don't trust<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5TuQ8GvL6_VGmLjZ2Si2ziD0msH8jli83TG3rnuJ6mqFiBmo8kSkgc9HOconXTC09MMFAWsJFuOTgES3_3rD-wteJiKcOL5gsggq2MdA9yrW2eAGJTi9V9s5Lx3U38TYN3zTsYmAA0hT5/s1600-h/IMG_0214blog.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286641046482046354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5TuQ8GvL6_VGmLjZ2Si2ziD0msH8jli83TG3rnuJ6mqFiBmo8kSkgc9HOconXTC09MMFAWsJFuOTgES3_3rD-wteJiKcOL5gsggq2MdA9yrW2eAGJTi9V9s5Lx3U38TYN3zTsYmAA0hT5/s320/IMG_0214blog.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><div><div><div>Our journey takes us to the top of the world. The Himalayas in Nepal is a natural wonder that can overwhelm anyone. This region, from the south to the north, east to west of Nepal, is crossed by many rivers that contribute to the Ganga waters. </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286641034923276226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFzc4HqJ4U_wo9W33rDS0E8uC47CrFd7Vggn-6VsMOMV_bi6UMglxG9vY_SaHc5yCYxqhSV7p-Vni-oMrU_J87QKJMd_tBrCLTHfgW3LyUABBmvwj_ZUoSio4VeBaeYqPRKO1BStt3nnzI/s320/IMG_0077blog.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>Despite the presence of this huge natural resource, Nepal is passing through one of the biggest black outs in its history.</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286641038343267090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW8FmCzALrp1R6To7KiLIJvcddTQo1iUEUFMevOk4SePhqwD3r93C2zG-XbQ0Be3u-7sKhB9Wml1sV3kA-WudXaYrqLftaOXggXtifGTHwAcuVy2MzqDOrfN1D_uSBd2uldGhaX1_n1znk/s320/IMG_0151blog.JPG" border="0" /> <div>The government says that is because of the low level of the rivers, people on the street mutter that is because of the bad administration of the natural resources.</div><br /><div>No matter where the truth is, the fact is that nowadays Nepalis are without electricity for 14 hours a day and the situation is probably going to get worse.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286641041787572866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_6TTFBb3860n8JAQg9bDqROXE6sjqMVV5IvELDCPaK4L7cfzgWkeMhg1Z1BHJQTxjk_j-W4aHP9Q2AsGkhHd6SL16BJoN_0iHxA4O8BnjFj-mGskLU1NbwGBcARqUsQy90P1FF_obVqI/s320/IMG_0156blog.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-78753445976738893882008-12-07T07:08:00.002+01:002008-12-07T07:23:14.228+01:00Bangladesh: The unbelievable Saddarghat in Dhaka<div><div><div><div>Dhaka is a giant mass of conglomerated people, constructions, slums, cars, rickshaws, markets, noise and traffic jams.<br />Dhaka is an amazing place on earth, worth letting it absorb you and give it what it demands: all your energy at its service.<br />Once you accept this, the giant city shows its charms. Wandering around the Old Dhaka streets and finding oneself lost in the shapeless bazar that is formed of thousands of markets and foodstores is the preparation for the big river experience: Saddarghat, the river port looking into the Buriganga river. </div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276929394317952114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipcAv3ruUN-1BJ9D0SscTcajaZ19b4mxeX9wMxciJ2bu_x3UWhHoLR1ZpLNE3fXl_coFPt7jpCD3oGlPcV0ZBRc5RnU8PBywRWlYJnQHkc_WA46HveROo90As8x-JUI8Rcy_Hi6GhdfS4s/s320/IMG_7331-LO.JPG" border="0" /><br />This is the main river port of the city, and certainly one of the busiest in Bangladesh.<br />The Buriganga, which for some authors is the lifeline of Dhaka, is such a dirty mass of viscous black water, that one might think that life can come to an end at any moment. False. No other place offers such a high concentration of people and machines, crows on air and the rest on water. People use the river for transportation purposes, as a vast number of ferries and passenger cruises depart from here to many places around Bangladesh. Cement transport vessels cruise the river up and down all along the day, so heavily loaded that they literally are half-sunk, the top deck is submerged at its lowest part (the center of the vessel). People work on loading and unloading these artifacts, as always seen around this country, by carrying weight on their heads forming efficient human chains. Coconuts arrive from the countryside, and some amount is preprocessed right at the ghat (port), leaving to decompose the outer shell, giving room to life, they serve to feed insects and other lifeforms. </div></div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276929394073774434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8n7U9CCQTS1NkHwOlb_PoT_e2-645MCERl3gmFBXrPFOR1pRU61pp-rCb0BnVBPF2KDuXKzZ4HsreeofHOxXfq_Vj5XKdlDIKodxkN1AAz4uDsdInkQTH9lhZxEJ-GIzvVjexoaor8H0C/s320/IMG_7377-LO.JPG" border="0" /><br />People, people, wherever you look people move by water, wash their clothes, rush to pick a ferry, eat, spit, work, all in there.<br />Ships are repaired right there, by hand, by hammer, the noise of hammers against metal is constant and creates its own atmosphere. </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276929391591039634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKa9r3yfscYaIlDk4gigYA2F8b7FjDboEjN_HnuxfDHJrtXGufgPaPHaQORzKySHswN-l3lsP9EmHlZlu1N_NK4KLJ9ioIgUNU3EDm5ZCTKMJScuTPf0klLawTZSNrZ9LjR4QesgqKQAjS/s320/IMG_6878-LO.JPG" border="0" /><br />Great numbers of tanneries and industries are located by the banks of Buriganga, and although many of them vomit wastewater into the river, not all use any wastewater processes. Animal and human disposals, waste of all kinds, oils from ships, all, everything, into the water.<br />This is the lifeline of a city, an overcrowded city in an overcrowded country makes it difficult to know which are the options to start cleaning the river. In fact, even if it were possible, how could it be done when so many people are sustained, have room here, everything appears to work in a complex semi-stable equilibrium that may be difficult to break, and the options after this equilibrium is altered are unknown. Liars those who shout answers. If any complex machine, any organism requires a dirty and noisy heart or engine room, this is Dhaka. Just out of there, rural life appears again. </div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276929384218359218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD6tR2YK8uHNCxXL8IL-8PQUf4oQ2V2K_duFv7ZmODfg_T4-3jR-QcIQA29HHLLUaTSmj9GAiHB1BJa6geSyVxp2UPzRSnTbFq5RtvojB3m_p7COG7wYCsvG3a7vWTJNAyMRdpf8oxLg2v/s320/IMG_6841-LO.JPG" border="0" /></div>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-77477532258713605482008-11-27T14:37:00.008+01:002008-11-27T14:58:29.961+01:00Bangladesh sundarbans: the waters that flow up and downstream<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhholvQboX3gHCB0nSvzOhaOOxDDq9KWXIbQRhH-Nad_H4CdV4MmWQ4Y46Jj9QUlEfWr7iaXM1Oh_r7ZHkObYJ0ejXl0H2neMq_le9w0iaEb-Z9JjE7KuxUPFeQm7oW3HytNGEh_h9WvY5X/s1600-h/DSCN2010_LOW.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273332735208283074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhholvQboX3gHCB0nSvzOhaOOxDDq9KWXIbQRhH-Nad_H4CdV4MmWQ4Y46Jj9QUlEfWr7iaXM1Oh_r7ZHkObYJ0ejXl0H2neMq_le9w0iaEb-Z9JjE7KuxUPFeQm7oW3HytNGEh_h9WvY5X/s320/DSCN2010_LOW.JPG" /></a> The Sundarbans is the greatest mangrove swamp in the world. It grows in the Bengal Gulf, between India and Bangladesh. The region of Khulna in Bangladesh holds the major part of this forest, about the 60% of the total surface. India keeps the rest in the West Bengal region.<br />The definition of water here is given by the equilibrium between the sea and river waters, therefore water is salted, and water is fresh, somewhere in between certainly. Vegetation is a good witness, just here there are immense numbers of plants that only could grow here. Some of them show that life here is extreme, letting their roots out in the air to be seen, seeking for the oxygen that the saturated ground appears not to provide.<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273334235962355554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbr9w2OTaieL4OpcliiqwfuZaJPCUrPrlMXxYu_Bg1h1JZJKtdfzzdUnwEaAXCOTCiYMFtt_Zh3d0U9R3Y5PFXPb_DDuEpOQAagE_mePh1deCQ9OBG-S-EWraD_omogUk1n_YDu0OgVNo/s320/IMG_5064_LOW.JPG" /> <p>This forest is located at the interface between sea and fluvial waters, and therefore, the water levels are directly determined by the tidal variations. The sea level acts as a downstream boundary condition that propagates upstream through the main and branch channels that cross the Sundarbans. The tidal variations have an influence on the way people live here in reation to the water by dealing with inundated areas, on navigation, and even on the movements of fauna. Anyone willing to cruise the waters is aware of the dynamics of this system, local people are aware of this from childhood, learning how and when to sail. </p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273333758255653986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxt6phY_UVjb-fFKju6q_2fH7_COGGxj7BvIfICSId2xNtCGzIcMR2M5w_IHU8YPd91SsKSEERKmvHgw9CZJrvIaAopXN8V9jCZOQ_wxvZNy9FUnFY3LqmzycYMQjj0_FckOkfhWi4jNdh/s320/DSCN1958_low.JPG" />The vital equilibrium between fresh and salted water has been altered by man: the construction of dams and prown farms are interrupting this exange, causing the phenomenon of the "desert of water". In fact in some zones, because of the decrease in fresh water immission, the salinity of the water had reach a rate so high that vegetal and animal life is not able to adapt to the rapid change and is disappearing. </p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273333576109564018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3NBurye6LSPpddTnDJnOBIdY1AeAJzec4gCpeo8tLdnCcOlyMlS6Y5MO9hNp5rWP5eNc9xb0rAFOTU0ski7L9n8CU6B2qdlAg1v0kA4ymmHeeRtmSTxdgLp39Is9kGsz_dn6ug9ha-2VO/s320/IMG_4989_LOW.JPG" /><br />Among local people, a mystical way of thinking says that we are here to move not from the Creator to the sea, the end, but the other way, from here to the heights, to the Source. This is the doctrine of the reverse way (Based on "La Fabula de Shelabuna" by P. Marino Rigon, s.x.)</p><p> </p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273333982048616738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63FC_SvThhAFJ2DycrjEYt6TPD-Zj5SkKU2PJGP9OJng1Bdcj9BoVwNKcHrVdHZiZy6ui55zM2osyn_pHOVBfrbkus3086YRAhHI9QWUhLkb9TJhlRAGSNSNZrlQ7VJZEF7u1pR95xGth/s320/IMG_5075_LOW.JPG" /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273333101214885970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGpYUPbPM81VTX9ZQehzOd6IhgAqmJH8E4uFy0P3sJau3qYnv69IpIOcyfZDi50hu2kuWeR6R-nwv_5GZ53eJ6FhKmBgOTn1zFTeYt8zSlrr_FiHTtWNmBK4u1B5LnXcFMfNveD5boQTGf/s320/IMG_5155_LOW.JPG" />The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-76305850962900412452008-11-17T08:47:00.009+01:002008-11-17T10:16:16.045+01:00Bangladesh first impressions.<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK-Xo0yxzQSon07bCprEqS0UCipNxRgjRnA2TTcSEmBgf0RjyYCh_A-oHMVMqFEeMqJ7etk4-hOiua-vSW4ZEo1WCe9m5ZHJmf5qQNxUZGtxsOae-wSBgmC-0xfrxd4J8ZRrSivz8XkoH7/s1600-h/IMG_4738-sma.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269551728974658642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 196px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK-Xo0yxzQSon07bCprEqS0UCipNxRgjRnA2TTcSEmBgf0RjyYCh_A-oHMVMqFEeMqJ7etk4-hOiua-vSW4ZEo1WCe9m5ZHJmf5qQNxUZGtxsOae-wSBgmC-0xfrxd4J8ZRrSivz8XkoH7/s320/IMG_4738-sma.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div>An old advertisement of the Bangladeshi Tourism Office says "Visit Bangladesh..before tourists come!". Tourists have not come, and Bangladesh has remained a country in which people are able to be surprised seeing foreigners, able to offer them a warm and deeply true hospitality.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaqAEl3-qddAyOgm8PMgp6eEuLMYnwxYPKYfExLk3eEmqiG56wdYIrqVicXa2NyeQOgqvojTgHJH3jZgvBNHrTb8g1pHk8_p-hlShynHAWGkV6i5IJZfxmpDV8SHEPyoE9n1rbpcuWQiWO/s1600-h/rickshaw.JPG"></a></div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269552173389371314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguIBJTxRfk5v427sMbG1Hy78NVin_qg2bpifZDpk23B8kILqUsw5akhjm2510EArgRtgkECayt9TZ_uTTJIGkoKSo5eo7ai0csIBMSMg1vwWKuAHiU-sFi9AISDtsqxneG7eq1BDtIjDMt/s320/rickshaw.JPG" border="0" /> <div>After a long trip crossing the border point between the two Bengal states, one can experience something unusual in such a journey as ours: silence. Motorbikes and other motorised wheeled things are almost completely substituted by cyclo-rickshaws. Of course, buses exist, and many. One takes you from the border to Khulna. Indeed, busy city, but again, busy with human-paddeled vehicles. So one can feel the crowd, but the place is clean and somehow more relaxed than usual in India.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHkn_UYavM4QW-PkoWii_JjlttEfAMDViivphV5MgOdcB39qnx4PgfqmvN8Fk64qFAHS8vT_mTyL5tuHGs9oeDKBIAgkM2Q1qKhtL1LPL-Q3dcQCwtSTXcJDKImPvo2Z7GukQ6RjmkWPI/s1600-h/verde.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269549654138333282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHkn_UYavM4QW-PkoWii_JjlttEfAMDViivphV5MgOdcB39qnx4PgfqmvN8Fk64qFAHS8vT_mTyL5tuHGs9oeDKBIAgkM2Q1qKhtL1LPL-Q3dcQCwtSTXcJDKImPvo2Z7GukQ6RjmkWPI/s320/verde.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>Our expedition takes us to the Sundarbarns, the biggest mangrove tidal forest on the planet. On the way, Mongla appears, a small village grown around an Italian mission, where Father Rigon had built a church, a school and a hospital. What one can see in Mongla is simply a small village. As simple as that, one can feel how life is in a rural Bangladesh. Life does not appear easy here, the influence of the tide is strong, as well as the salinity of the water and the terrain. Flood events keep most of this land wet, and the sediments allow fertile land only for some months. Life is though here, but people haven't lost their smile around here. Not our appraisal only, this is as well the comment of the missioner.<br /><br />Because of bandwith problems here, we cannot offer any video, hardly a decent picture. The jungle is absorbing us... Soon more audiovisuals will appear here, and they will be surprising for sure.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaYxlYOoasyfpI_Ii1QyrC29R8JLefpQVRMtDn2qWvbI3fps_blNxhwbQQbSfo1T8aW0M8NTI4UY2b_9GJvdE7SHqe_VR7tA4xOOMWukgULFPpXJLPLLuObtqwOwN36mE3mGrv5gSYSa1/s1600-h/barco.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269549300977736002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 207px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaYxlYOoasyfpI_Ii1QyrC29R8JLefpQVRMtDn2qWvbI3fps_blNxhwbQQbSfo1T8aW0M8NTI4UY2b_9GJvdE7SHqe_VR7tA4xOOMWukgULFPpXJLPLLuObtqwOwN36mE3mGrv5gSYSa1/s320/barco.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-43323280339371970692008-11-12T14:19:00.001+01:002008-11-12T14:22:28.632+01:00Delhi - Kolkata in 27 hoursThe way one travels in India is strange. What seems to be a waste of time can eventually become a complete experience.<br />Traveling by train in India is spending hours and hours in a box, where people come and go continuously, a caleydoscope of persons, food, sounds and smells that is worth to be observed with care. <br />Surprises occur, and one can wake up to the sound of clapping hands at early hours. Then a Hijra asks for a few rupees, in exchange for not disturbing or cursing people around. Superstition surround these figures, not men, not women, mighty in their curses, annoying if they want, and as nice as anyone. <br /><br />For more information on Hijras, http://www.thewe.cc/contents/more/archive/aruvani.html<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CIop5UIIrRA"> </param> <embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CIop5UIIrRA" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"> </embed> </object>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-35103796091025326142008-11-07T17:03:00.002+01:002008-11-07T17:12:13.044+01:00The last three seconds of Delhi daylightThe eye of the witness can be overwhelmed by a lot of different Delhis. Myriads of pictures speak about the guts it takes to endure life and vice versa: how hard is for the environment to embrace our existance. This first recording, taken within the time of our sojourn shows the intensity of dusk in Old Delhi when the Muezzin calls and all of us stay steady for a while. A million of different stories could be shown, it only depends on the place we happen to be.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Fh7-qBNh10c&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Fh7-qBNh10c&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-796807172085250212.post-78930816900715395642008-10-22T19:31:00.010+02:002008-10-22T22:32:41.519+02:00The beginning of a journey<div style="text-align: justify;">We are at the beginning of a trip that will send us to the lands of the Bramaputra, through India and Bangladesh. This is not the first time we go there, and this time the way we understand the world and especially the Indian subcontinent will be reflected by our works.<br /><br />The written word and the registered image and sound, with photography and video, register what we are seeing in a moment, the way we understand it and, essentially, ourselves in a certain moment. The impressions that we print will be unvariable in time, as opposed to us, who will be changing in time and along our journeys.<br /><br />And this is the purpose of our new journey, to get to know and give to know untold stories and places, people and circumstances that perhaps are not very interesting to the media. Indeed, what we don't know does not exist.<br /><br />This is the evidence of a quest that can be followed by anyone at any time, learning with us about this world.<br /></div>The Teamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08747397679712551407noreply@blogger.com6