One Giant Leap in History - Los Angeles Travel Photographer

This image reminds me of what Neil Armstrong declared when he put his left foot on the lunar surface 40 years ago “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

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Butch is not an astronaut, and we did not make it to the moon, yet. However, in the 10 days that we stayed where everything was frozen, the land and the rivers, we experienced such intensity, not just in the coldness, but also the people that we met and their stories. Not only did we break records (we thought it was cold in Alaska), I broke my own rules.

Stay tuned here and on my Instagram account…

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When Bison Spoke, We Listened - Los Angeles Travel Photographer

We woke up at the sound of the alarm and sprang to action.

There was no one around. The only sound was from our struggle with the thick snow underneath. Our plan was to explore the other “geysers” close to the Old Faithful Geyser. We wanted to get there before the sun made it above the horizon and we had already scouted the (only) way the afternoon before.

The air was cold and crisp, but I felt my perspiration as we turned around the corner of the Old Faithful Visitor Center. I paused and looked out to the trail that stretches from our feet.

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Boy, was I happy I did. Through the vague dawn air, I saw something on the only piece of ground that’s not frozen or covered in snow. Within a stone’s throw, there were bison sleeping. Although mild-looking, an animal that weighs up to one ton can move at a fast speed, too fast for us to escape the impact. Let alone there’s multiples of such odds of impact. Our internal debate ended quickly.

Thanks to these bison, we stuck around the area and got to experience a different Old Faithful Geyser than anticipated.

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As the world is fighting COVID-19, I can’t help but wonder how long nature has being crying/yelling at us before it gave us such a blow that finally got our attention.

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Women in Shadow - Los Angeles Travel Photographer

I knew Morocco would be a country of many unexpected. I did not expect to feel uncomfortable walking down the streets in my short sleeves, the plain ones that women wear in the “Western” cultures.

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I consider myself a pretty fearless woman. But when there’s cafes occupied by solely male gender who do nothing but sitting there and looking out the street, every inch of bare skin that’s being seen by those peering eyes makes me uncomfortable. At those time, for some odd reason, I envied Moroccan women. Covered up and not showing skin or shapes, they may be free from the eyes of the opposite gender. They seem to stay in the shadow, or sometimes are like a shadow, dark and muted.

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