December 26, 2011
11
the catch up
By Andrea in a slice, everything else, life as I know it, love, photography, travel
{sadly, both my Minolta and my Canon AE-1 simultaneously have given up the ghost. Coupled with the fact I left my digital charger in Canada… I only have my iPhone.}
We’re going to do a picture by picture play by play of of the last two months lovelies, because frankly I’ve been avoiding blogging as the crush of all that’s happened precludes any great storytelling. It has become too unruly, too massive and detailed to relate in any cohesive or entertaining form. The smallest summary I could muster of the lead up and the move is here – this is the rest.
1) So we hit the road from Nova Scotia for a 10 day trial trip – 4 in LA, 6 in Mexico, to see if I wanted to make the move. 2) While this sign sounds positive, it only reminded me that prior to the 3) 5 hours of tattooing, I had slept for exactly 1 full hour the night previous. 4) LA was beautiful, crazy. We went to a Kings/Canucks Game, saw B.B. King and 5)drank a shit ton of coffee to keep us going. 6) We made it to our little town after one crazy last night in LA where I finally got the closest I managed to shopping – throwing up outside a Macy’s. The roosters here are the bane of my existence, their noise tempered only by the nights I indulge in 7) atomic sized margaritas, the first taste of tequila that I’ve had since an unfortunate event 12 years previous.8) I was offered an incredibly insane opportunity prompting me 9) to return home and 10) say many tearful goodbyes before 11)loading up on coffee, books and munchies for the trip back to Mexico. 12) What followed was a few days of R&R – beaches, fishing and sunshine, before starting 13) to meet farmers, suppliers, coworkers and 14)fishermen (yeah, my job is hard..). 15) All of this was supported and fostered by an amazing friendship and love that has never hesitated to push me, 16) take me out to dinner (Agua Chillie… my favorite dish here), 17) drive me around Jalisco and Nayarit for all kinds of 18) amazing supplies. And when it gets to be too much, or it just comes Christmas time, there is 19) shopping in Sayulita, 20) surf on Christmas day, and 21) the best view I’ve seen on December 25th in a few years.
Which brings us to now. I promise it won’t be so long next time. xo
November 17, 2011
19
leap.
By Andrea in a life unexamined, catch up, love, travel
This is not boy meet girl.
I’m not sure what this is. Other than a giant leap, to a dream job in a wild place with a boy that has alternately held my hand and pushed me.
Ladies and gentlemen. Kempt is moving to Mexico.
September 12, 2011
11
august
By Andrea in a life unexamined, life as I know it, love, photography
{all taken on the new to me Canon AE-1 on Kodak Portra film}
And then I was home.
And it is exactly the same, but different. It has shifted – to a spare bedroom, to half a grocery bill, to sleeping alone. I’m now 180 degrees to the left of together… And I’m ok.
These photos are so precious to me, they look like August felt. Warm, calm, filled with cold beer and gentle, kind friends, good food and slowly – laughter. Granted, it also contained a lot of drinking, swearing, crippling hangovers and definite liver damage – but I do not photograph well in the jaundiced light of potential cirrhosis.
So I am here. And I am ok, buoyed by your amazing words and your kindness. There is still incredible sadness here and there, and every once and awhile I still feel as though I was punched in the gut by a fistful of douchbaggery. But mostly? I am basking in the last of summer, and the first of another adventure.
September 9, 2011
25
the breaking
By Andrea in a life unexamined, everything else, love, photography, travel
I would like to say that the light and the revelations and the peace stayed with me. But the truth is when I boarded the ferry in Tarifa after frankly ecclesiastical flamenco and topless drinking with other itinerant travelers… I was well and truly alone for the first time. I attempted to convince myself that the feeling was merely seasickness.
Or train sick as I lay in my swaying bunk on the Marrakesh Express.
Or maybe just a bit of dodgy lamb in Mechui Alley, or the warm salty olives around Jemaa El Fna.
And then it all came up.
In the middle of the night, lost among the winding alleys and throngs of people, I parked myself between a rubbish pile and the mint vendor and I threw myself headlong into the sickness, the heartbreak, the vomit and bile and bruises. And I begged. I made that shitty phone call, and I begged. I begged for him, for us, for our life, for the goodness, for the shit. Fuck, I begged on the basis of the tedious nature of simply dividing our dishes. I begged. Sitting in the rubbish, in the din of thousands of people eating and drinking and laughing and talking, I sat in garbage and begged a man to be with me. I was that sick, heartbroken girl.
Somewhere it is written that a heart nears a terminal density when paying 50$ a minute for icy silence. However, it is intrinsically known and unstated that it shatters audibly over a crackling cellphone line with the utterance of single word.
“No.”
And in the shit and the mint and the sudden, deafening silence that precedes all defining moments, I vomited all over myself, and I started again. Because the heart is a muscle, and sometimes only in breaking that motherfucker do you really make it stronger.
To strength my loves.
{more photos of Morrocco here}
September 6, 2011
13
the unbearable lightness of spain
By Andrea in everything else, photography, travel
The number of times I have tried to write this post is embarrassing. That it is no better than the other 100 times I have written it does not help. There is no perfect photo to go with the perfect story, no metaphor or simile or wittism that can be unpacked and untangled and perfected to say what most of these photos already do: that it was good, and bright, stunningly beautiful and delicious and soul wrenching and so .. so fucking hard. And so fucking dark.
I was not cool or collected or demure, and I cried with all the style and grace of a paper bag filled with hot soup. That shit was everywhere. I cried in train washrooms, I cried in my wine, I cried in churches and I cried in the shower. I cried while shovelling squid in my face, and I cried when I stepped into the Mediterranean. I was heartbroken. It was dark. And sad. And I cried.
And then I cried a little less.
And a little less.
Though it was still hard. And it was still dark.
Until one day we were standing in a cathedral in the hushed, ethereal light crafted from math, angles, glass and faith; when I saw tears in her eyes. And we marveled together at the beauty of hundreds of people who have paid their euros not for science or technology but to simply to stand and marvel at that light, and the strange and stunning circumstances that had brought us there together to do the same.
And it may not have been any easier. But it was a little lighter.
{all photos taken with the Pentax K1000, these were shot on Fuji Superia 400 expired film. See more here.}
July 12, 2011
3
of things in bottles
By Andrea in a life unexamined, catch up, life as I know it, love, travel
We drove to Maine on our way out here. While there we fell in love with each other, with the ocean, with deep fried Oreos and with Miller High Life. 2 years later, a friend brought us back a case of Miller from a trip to the states, and it has sat ensconced in our fridge for months. We picked away at it when there was no other beer in the house in the hopes of making it last – it’s little gold and red labels shiny and memorable, reflecting thinner, happier and younger versions of ourselves. We forgot to drink it together, to sit and remember, to laugh, to make plans, to talk. And suddenly, there are only two bottles left. I have picked one up in moments here and there to drink it alone, sometimes out of spite, sometimes out of sadness and frustration, mostly just because they are so much a silly little symbol.. but I always slip it back in the box. So much has changed, but those two bottles still sit together, bottles of hope and memories and us.
The other day, for the first time in a long time I stood in front of the fridge looking at them. The beer is probably bad, and the labels are sticky with a million spills and splashes from the fridge, but they made me smile. I picked one up, put it back, and booked a trip to Spain and Morocco and Paris. Which is where I’m going today. In two hours. For three weeks. To find other things in bottles, and to fill myself with things not spoiled. I will see you soon.
July 8, 2011
0
waves/grass
By Andrea in catch up, photography, travel
{all shot with the pentax k1000. a little more about these places on flickr}
Catching up by photos – a little bit of my travels in the past months. PEI, the Bay of Fundy, and the warm, acrid railroad ties under my feet.
