jeudi 27 février 2014

Wishing I was there...

Dear reader, tonight I'm turning my back to my habits and switching to English. I hope you won't mind... I have a pretty solid reason to do so. I have a game to play. A game that involves pictures... How could I resist.

Yesterday I posted an article on Buenos Aires - first of a series to come, inspired by my recent journey to Argentina. Holidays don't belong to a long-gone past for me, I have to admit it - but you know how it is: as soon as you're back to real life, it's as if your trip happened ages ago.

So when I stumbled on this article from the Al Fresco Blog, and saw there was a photography competition on the theme "I wish I was there...", I knew I had to participate. Needless to say that the prize (a Nikon DLSR) is a quite nice incentive...

By posting an article on my blog, I may apply with 5 different pictures which have to fit with the following description: "Whether it’s funny, remarkable, scenic or simply a picture of fun times at your favorite destination, we’re looking for something original that will make us smile, help us look forward to those first few days of Spring and think “I wish I was there!”"

Ready to relax and enjoy some holiday breeze? Here is my own selection...


1. Sleeping in the shadow of a flower
The air is humid and hot, my legs are tired of having walked for so long in the ruins of Angkor Wat today. The Cambodian villa and its turquoise swimming pool are welcoming my laziness. I just need to feel the breeze caressing my skin under the palm trees, and let this graceful flower filter the sun rays from my eyes...


2. Over the Rainbow
Have I landed in paradise? The grass is green and wet with the shining and flying drops of waterfalls. Light has turned into an intangible ribbon of colors. I'm at the border between Argentina and Brazil, and I'm overwhelmed by the beauty of Iguazu. 

3. A taste of liquid sun
We left the crowds of the Vatican behind us and let chance guide our feet on the golden streets of Rome. A welcoming table of wood standing on the paved pedestrian lane invited us to stop by for a while and let time gently melt in the sweet sour taste of a wine cocktail...

4. Lost in blue
Hours of rain, wind, and ocean sprays washed the length of a silver Britanny beach. And suddenly, the sky of Saint Malo opened to a brand new day, as clean and pure as the depth of the sea. All the strength of this perfect light was condensed in the tiny lonely sail of a radiant ship...


5. Summer Peace
Sometimes you don't need to reach the edge of the world to feel the intensity of a quiet day, full of sun and peace... Right next to Paris, in the park of Vincennes, July is the perfect destination for an afternoon nap, in the fresh sharpness of crispy grass. You just have to lie down and close your eyes.

L'été austral

Janvier. C'est l'été du grand sud. Les Argentins en vacances ont abandonné la capitale. Buenos Aires pulse au ralenti, le souffle suspendu aux rives du Delta d'Argent.



Les avenues géantes s'aplatissent dans l'air implacable, le bitume chauffé par le caoutchouc des taxis inlassables. Le marcheur se prend les pieds dans ces distances étirées comme du réglisse fondu jusqu'au point de rupture...



Les heures s'égrènent dans les bars et les kiosques ouverts sur les rues. Le service est lent. L'air conditionné capricieux. Les chaînes de fast food insolemment paresseuses. 



La Casa Rosada, centre du pouvoir, semble une coquille superflue ouverte aux badauds indifférents. La place qui résonne depuis des décennies d'échos contestataires est couverte de banderoles muettes de rage : une fanfare absurde y exhibe une troupe de danseurs folkloriques devant un public clairsemé qui n'en est pas vraiment un, et le ciel d'un bleu dur embaume curieusement la marijuana.







Dans le Microcentro, les rues sont désertées, les rideaux de fer baissés - le quotidien retient son souffle dans le bruit assourdi des bus et des travaux. La ville semble s'absenter à elle-même...











Pourtant son âme est bien présente dans l'atmosphère indolente de ces journées trop chaudes. Elle s'aiguillonne dans l'animation soudaine d'une place surpeuplée. Elle suinte avec brio des façades aux couleurs violentes. Elle se pique de lyrisme, de colère et d'humour en laissant les mots confisquer aux murs leur neutralité silencieuse. Elle bat au rythme des foulées énergiquement insistantes des joggers, et des pas savamment entremêlés des danseurs.










Et la nuit... ah les nuits de Buenos Aires...