Forest for the trees? Up close and personal?

Devil's in the details. Right? Devil has the right idea, in that case. What are (or aren't) details, if not the stitches in the canvas, the tiles on the pool floor, the peanuts in the packing box of LIFE (the experience, not the cereal)? I always liked those Magic Eye posters so popular in the 90s. Partly because going crosseyed was fun, and partly because the discovery of the bigger picture in all those splotches was even funner. More fun still was that a certain grade school nemesis who shall remain nameless was rubbish at the things (small victories). Any rate, since then, I have loved getting up close to things (oh yeah, just in the interests of full disclosure, I'm a bit nearsighted...well make that totally blind). Some say I miss the bigger picture for my love of details, but I'll take that over only seeing the broad view and losing its component parts.

I've gone on about flowers and their ilk, but really, they look pretty cool when you get right up in there-

Growing up in Farm Country, I have seen a field or two in my day. And right across the world, those fields look pretty much the same up close. And are just as important whether they are Idaho Corn, Italian Grapes, or even African Khat. It tends to depend on the light, the colours, and the angles, but really, it all just looks fantastic.

Don't want to wax too philosophical, but much like some great high quality wood or the coolest person you know, that LIFE box I mentioned before really is a very richly textured thing (something it shares with the eponymous breakfast food). And while that texture can been generally seen from any vantage point, I find that the deeper slash closer one goes slash gets, the more one can appreciate the details. Grass is not just green(s).

Trees are not just brown(s).

Water is not just blue(s) (whatever country, island, rock, or bit of reef it might frame). I mean, for crying out loud... they don't even make Crayolas in these colours!

Eyes are more than just ocular sense organs. Nothing is quite as lovely as seeing one's own reflection in the eyes of a horse. I highly recommend it if you ever get the chance. They just see so very much. More than they ever let on. I suppose that's for the best.




Finally, on the lighter side of the issue, when they get to take center stage and the whole photo, little things get rather bigger... And come to life! Check out this little visitor looking like a dinosaur (those little toenails made one helluva racket on my window...)

 For the love of Mike! Attack of the Giant Neapolitan Lozenge-Shaped Bugs!!! (he's about the size of the end of my thumb, but check out all the kit he's lugging about on those wee spindly legs)

Doesn't matter how cutesy you try to make him... Vader is still the Darthiest... (yeah this one is gratuitous...you can turn off the Nerd Alert klaxons...)

Djibouti Call - Good bits Part II

Much as caveats are rather annoying, I must caveat the following photos by saying that the pamphlet for Lac Assal describes it as the saltiest lake in the world (if it HAD a brochure - the PR department is a bit, well, nonexistent), and it will be very obvious that this is not a place destined to draw the Robin Leach crowd.

Intro caveats aside, the lake itself is quite the sight. But before the lake, the trip to get there is in a category all its own. Some of the roadside views are quite lovely.

Of course, the locals park and peddle wares for silly visitors who chance to goggle at the picturesque vista.

With directions that include "turn right at the big white archway in the middle of nowhere" and "turn left at the first junction you see after all the goat-filled trees" it takes dedication (and a better than average suspension system) to locate this gem.

So in order to get from this...

Aaaaaalllll the way down to this...

And finally to this...

Requires nerves and skills (and shock absorbers) of steel. This is the nice bit of road.

If only we'd had access to a vehicle in one piece. One that did not threaten to leave us stranded in the Djiboutian wilderness where our salt encrusted bones would be found weeks later...

Sadly, this would have to do. (It required jump leads to start, and the fan belt made noises I've only heard from a percussion section, oh and the shocks were such rubbish I got an unscheduled spinal realignment from driving).

Ah well. It was a good run, eh? Death by Djibouti would look fun on a tombstone.

To the good bit. Really. It was good. Hot? Of course. Humid? Have you MET the equator? But fascinating after all.

 Don't be fooled. That is not sand. Not dirt. Not even gravel. No, Djibouti has to line its lakes with razor sharp crystallised salt. Not for the faint of foot, this.

But certainly for those lacking pool floaty chairs (God bless the French).

Sinking is overrated. Though I would not recommend full facial submersion; or entry with any skin wound.  Really, entry as a whole should be avoided if you have sense (or aren't French, which I suppose is the same thing). Getting evaporated salt lake out of shoes, hair, skin, etc requires a hose (which they do not supply in Nowheresville Hazeland).

Oh, by the by, there aren't any fun little tide pool animals in these puddles. Magma hot water and razor sharp salt rocks, though, which are fun, too.

Know what else is fun? Khat-fuelled locals peddling salt crusted things (that you can find just by walking round the lake) and geodes (a bit harder to find).

Ahhhh... a sense of relief that even the third world is not immune to the phenomenon of the grockle shop.

 See? Lots of salty.

 Even  the rubbish takes on a sophisticated crystallyness

Hmmmm... yup. Lots of salt.

Despite everything, it has its charms. Neat views, salt in your bits and bobs, overpriced rocks, and a uniqueness that is unmistakable.

Certainly not like anyplace else, no?

The goats seem to like the area (they greeted us on the way out, too)

Why not?

The Unfairness of Flowers

Let's be honest. Flowers are rubbish. Even the ugly ones are pretty. Granted, some smell like the wrong end of a platypus, but all are visually aesthetically pleasing. Which is just annoying. Observe the following for evidence. I think you'll agree. And for those of us with low self esteem, it is simply another smack in the gob.

I mean, really. Even the little funny curly bits around the middle add to the stroppy charm of these arrogant little lovelies. In normal colour, in greyscale, or even in Instagram, there is simply no making them anything but what they are.

Now, these are all super-zoom shots, which do not show the extent of the nerve of flowers. All the above were part of a bouquet given me by a friend. So really, they are dead. Heads lopped straight off the roots. Stuck in water to prolong the illusion of life, but really. Please. If someone lopped my head off, no amount of water or any other medium would keep me smiling happily. What gives flowers the right to still bloom under such circumstances? Are they just in denial? If so, that is the most powerful denial ever. I'd love to know where I can get some.

On to the living. Stuck in the dirt. Oft ignored. Used as decor or let run wild. Trodden on. Noshed on by fauna. And still bloody pretty.

Come on. Why must we put up with such attitude? I for one am sick of it. Because of these cheeky blossoms, the pretty among the female people get compared to flowers. Why? Symbolism is attached to each sort of bloom. By whom? I argue there should be a complete revisit to the plan. Overly fragrant flowers given (I mean you, Lilly) signify the giver finds something lacking in the odour of the receiver. Overly bright blooms suggest the giver finds the receiver rather dull. Et cetera.

And this sort of rampant floral arrogance is not isolated to one place. Oh no, it is an international outrage. some are just more exotic in their beauty (which is even less fair, if I'm honest).
Whether in Rwanda...

Or Korea...

Or Guam...



For goodness sake, they look like cake decorations...

The rest of us don't stand a chance.

Whatever. Harrumph.