My new SLR camera

I am very thrilled that I now own a digital SLR camera. It is the single most expensive thing I bought for myself so far. Being the penny-pinch that I am, I spent a chunk of my savings for it over a new laptop or whim-gadget like an e-reader. A satisfying indication that I am really serious about my photography.

It's Sony Alpha 700 (A700). Used. Not ashmed to say that I purchased a secondhand considering its power, feautures and usability. I was gunning for Nikon D300 but the price is simply out of my range. The next best option is to go for its direct competitors such as this model. It's sturdy, fast and produces quality photos under lowlight conditions. It's just what I need for the type of photography I seem to truly enjoy- sports and night photography.  Possibilities of creation and artistic expression suddenly grow wider.

And just like the usual clumsiness of wearing a new shirt or a new pair of eyeglasses, I felt uncomfortable at first to use the camera. Do I look okay? Am I gripping it too tight? Am I credible? After several thoughtless point-and-shoots, I'm back to my normal dirty unconscious old self, sweating like crap in the middle of the street, kneeling and crawling on the pavement, changing positions in the most awkward ways. I'm on a roll again.

September 5, 2009

11:01 PM

Al Nawakhiza Coffee Shop

Old Al Ghanim, Doha

Alexandria

I have always wanted to see Alexandria for as long as I can remember. I do not recall when and where I learned of the ancient Egyptian capital, most probably in my high school history class, but the name left an everlasting impression in my mind. Though not fully knowing its history, the mental sound of Alexandria alone arises a glow of wonder and excitement. Alexandria... Obscure, distant image of an olden glory, grace, beauty, mystery all meshed up together at the back of my head.

The only clear force that pulls me to this place is the knowledge that an ancient library- once the greatest and the largest in the world- had stood there. As I have always been a curious lover of books, and despite that I have no understanding of the ancient language, it's the collection of stories, ideas- and probably secrets- thousands of centuries old that thrills me.

And I am greatly saddened- I had been ignorant- to have discovered now that no remnants of the old library can be traced. All that is known about the Royal Library of Alexandria is subject to speculation and debate, as though it was more a myth to prove than a fact. Modern archeologists can only surmise where it has gone- perhaps now submerged in waters, lost, forever?

All my romanticism and expectations gone. But like a child who wakes up in the morning and discovers that Christmas is over, stands up anyway and gathers all that is left of the lingering smell of cheese and fruitcake, looks at torn giftwraps- scattered, the aftermath chaos of merry and celebration, determined to recreate a magic missed, I am going to Alexandria as I have always wished- and to see it the way I have always imagined it.

To see the new Biblioteca Alexandrina, built to commemorate the splendor of the lost libray, no matter how magnificent and well-meaning, would surely add misery to my hearthache- where is it?- but I'll go nevertheless. Sometimes it only takes one visit and an imagination to know a place, to know its story, to discover something was there.

I am counting the days. November, approximately three months from now, several days after my birthday, I will finally see Alexandria. I giggle just by mere mentioning it. I am enjoying the waiting- flipping through pages of books and magazines, searching for photos, layouting my itineraries which will include Cairo and Luxor, while Alexandria will remain to be the center gem of this trip. I can imagine myself now sitting on a streetside cafe facing the long corniche, filling in the spaces of a postcard to myself, telling a story about Alexandria- how the warmth of the morning sun touches my skin, the pavements, the old buildings, the ruins, the Mediterranean, gradually revealing the color and glimmer of the city.

August 1, 2009
11:30 PM
Sheesha cafe
Old Al Ghanim
Doha

Something I often, always, fail to to do

When words decide to take charge, once you feel them forming and rolling out fast from your lips, write it. What's spilled the first time never comes back.

Doha
12:25 AM

Celestial spectacle

The moon shines over the Taj Mahal hotel in Mumbai, India, Monday, Dec. 1, 2008. The planets Venus, top left, and Jupiter, top right, came in close proximity with the moon as seen from Earth Monday... won't happen again until 2052. (AP Photo/Rajanish Kakade)


So, that's what it was. A magical interplay of heavenly bodies- Venus and Jupiter, two sparkling gems that seemed to fall like teardrops above the Moon's crescent. The view from the car's window appeared dreamy, and crisp to my sleepy eyes. I wondered why the spectacle never revealed itself to me in the Philippines. I did not bother, I was tired and wanted to rest. I looked away; thought it's a phenomenon common in the Middle East, that I'd take a picture of it some other night, for show-and-tell with friends back home. I wish I had known- that it only comes once in a lifetime, if ever at all.

A spot in the sea of white

First evening of Eid Holidays, a post-Ramadan Islamic celebration that can be likened to Christmas. Bored was I, made an excuse to my mom and out I went. After buying cookies, my alibi, I decided to check the festivity at Souq Wagef- a traditional Qatari market place. I surmise it's the only location fully alive this time of the year where locals gather with family and friends as most shops and entertainment centers are closed. Bright lights and live arabic music made the ancient market all the more charming at night.

In my search of a spot where I could sit, read a current book selection- Lord of the Flies- and try to form part of the whole merry-making, I found myself pressed in the crowd, swimming my way among tall Qatari men in their elegant thobes- long and flowing, immaculately white that glimmered under the halogen lamps it almost hurt my eyes- in such a close proximity that the sharpness of their rich perfume overwhelmed me. I suddenly felt underdressed in my grey cargo pants and bright red checkered polo that would fit well during summer in an exotic island. I envied the dignified elegance, the extended sleeves that hung distinguishedly from their shoulders, the well-polished silver buttons that rightfully fasten them.

So I was stuck, momentarily bemused amidst the whiteness of their clothing, under the spell of the ethereal arabic melody, then it hit me: "I am in the Middle East!" The land of sheesha and Ali Baba! It's one defining moment which reminded me that I am in fact in the Middle East, as if I had forgotten where I was.