Settlers Bay

I can remember sitting on a plane eight months ago, leaving the Anchorage airport and thinking I would never visit Alaska again. It had been a once in a lifetime trip and I couldn't imagine what reason, how or when I would possibly return. I keep forgetting how unpredictable life is. So here I am, 5,000 miles from home back in the state of Alaska. While Alaska gets a bum rap for being dark and cold much of the year, that has not been the case either time I have visited. Today it's in the 60s, the sky is clear and the sun is out for 15 hours a day. This is both warmer weather and more sun than my home state of Connecticut. This small loop became my daily routine while on this visit. The rural stereotype of Alaska is not the case in this area of Wasilla, countless cars zoom by and every inch of land is crammed with houses in this all-american subdivision. Nothing about this walk is meditative, that is until you look up. Settlers Bay is one of the many communities that sits in this mountain basin, with its ring of majestic towers high above goes on as far as the eye can see. They serve as a silent reminder of how very far from home I am and how futile the idea of the "foreseeable future" actually is .

Mystic River

The Mystic River cuts through the southeast corner of Connecticut. Barely three and a half miles long, this estuary divides the historic village of Mystic and its banks even serve as home to a Maritime Museum. I anticipated imagery that referenced this small fishing village's history. I even expected the rolling hills and enormous weeping willows we were walking along. What I did not expect was the ornate Egyptian, Greek and Gothic Architecture. From a distance it appeared to be a quiet park sitting along the river bank. Though below the stoic arch at the entrance, it became clear that Elm Grove was not a park, but a cemetery. Rather than focusing on the finality of death, this Victorian style cemetery was designed more than 155 years ago around the idea of eternal rest. The concept was based on the romantic idea of a garden burial ground where the community would gather to spend Sunday afternoons. I don't know what sort of turn out Elm Grove got a hundred years ago, but on this Friday night there were a few visitors - folks walking dogs and the occasional jogger. I suppose it is a credit to the planners who more than a century ago were looking to find a meeting place for both life and death. I, however, was more focused on what a difference such a short distance could make in the identity of a place.

Buds & Mud

A few days above freezing and the 60+ inches of snow that had crippled this area deflated. A few more and now the only remnants are the dirty lumps of snow that dot the landscape. The warm air, budding trees and gleaming mud are hinting at the oncoming change in seasons. In the last month, these sidewalks were impassable with semi-frozen slush and vicious winds thwarted even the best attempts for an afternoon walk. Today, with clear paths and inviting weather, the area seems to be beginning to stir from its long winter's nap. What a difference a day (or a few days) really makes.

Icy Puddles

I was tragically mislead. In the midst of our frigid winter, I was lured by the tease of 40 degree temperatures and decided to follow the sun on a short walk. The walk became shorter as the wind became stronger and each icy puddle became deeper. The snow that blanketed the ground still ran into rigid frozen drifts that lined the streets. The icy slush, too broad to wade around, forced me into the street which was far too narrow from the snow. Tired of fighting the violent wind, I turned back. Today, the sun was much more enjoyable from inside than from outside.

Dubai Creek

Dubai at night is much like any other city; full of people rushing from one part of their day to the next. Cabs are honking, bus brakes are screeching and restaurants are beginning to buzz with evening chatter. Aside from the sounds of call to prayer and its brief pause, I could have been rushing through New York on a busy Friday night. The buildings go up and out for as far as the eye can see, which is only amplified by every inch of their edges being covered in millions of lights. There is an indescribable energy to a place that, in less than a generation, has gone from a nomadic desert culture to what has been described as "Las Vegas on steroids". As we moved through the crowded side streets, around cars and through groups of boisterous people out for a good time, we meandered our way through the souks (or market places). We haggled for silly souvenirs until we came upon the edge of the water. The Dubai Creek is a salt water inlet and arguably one of the most historic places you can visit in the center of this emirate. Here, for just a moment, a visitor can actually get a glimpse of this trading port which has been referenced as far back as the ancient Greeks. Much like everything else in Dubai, it has now been super-sized in order to increase trade. For roughly a dollar, you can climb into one of the many abras (or water taxis) and criss-cross along the water. Here at night, somewhere in the middle of the creek, it becomes very quiet. The sound of the people and the cabs and the buses begin to fade as you finally get a slightly less obstructed view of this historic treasure.

The Arabian Gulf

Sharjah is a coastal area situated on the Arabian Gulf. Traveling throughout the United Arab Emirates as an American was a wonderful experience. The people were kind and accommodating, until we asked to see the beach - then they were perplexed. It is, after all, winter and the coldest time of the year. While the breeze was nearly a wind, the sun was shining and the air was in the 70s. Of course this is all about perspective, as the temperature in the summer will easily be double this, so 70 is down right chilly. Wandering back and forth along this quarter mile stretch, I could have been walking the beach at home. Aside from the very large Russian tourists in very tiny bathing suits, the waves crashing could have been from any of the walks in this blog. The vast waters before me served only to make the world a little bit smaller.

Sharjah Art Museum

I have just traveled from an area crippled by winter's snowy grip to a land of endless sun. An opportunity to show my work alongside other international artists at the 29th Annual Emirates Fine Art Society Juried Exhibit has brought me to the other side of the globe. The path between the Sharjah Art Museum and our hotel has now become mindless. The first time I walked it, the city streets seemed foreign and overwhelming, I wondered how many times I would get turned around. Now it is just the path we take to and from setting up at the museum. How can something so foreign quickly become so familiar? Sharjah is considered a cultural center in the United Arab Emirates. The buildings have an old world quality, but few are much older than I am, so there is a bit of a gray area between where the culture truly is and where the image of the culture begins. There are flashes of this quasi-Epcot Center-esque feeling when you find out many of these buildings are a facade. So what is true? The fact that the warmth of the sun is only out-shined by the warmth of the people is true. The images I carried with me here of the middle east are not true of this country. It is true that under this constitutional monarchy all people are considered equals, affording women the rights I simply assumed they were denied. Though above all else, the sacredness of hospitality seems to be the greatest truth here, within and between these buildings which I now travel through.