ed ntiri

new rolls

2011-08-08T02:13:00.000-07:00

around

2011-08-08T02:12:00.000-07:00

new bws

2011-08-08T02:11:00.000-07:00

sweet

2011-07-28T00:25:00.000-07:00

A History Of The Title Sequence from jurjen versteeg on Vimeo.

met Roscoe on 45th and san pablo

2011-07-11T16:19:00.000-07:00

told me he was on his way down to santa cruz to meet his partner, so that he could get out of this dump.

literary readings go like this

2011-05-11T16:02:00.000-07:00

(shot with t2i & nikon 50mm 1.4 ais.)

lately

2011-05-07T12:31:00.000-07:00

2011-04-11T11:54:00.000-07:00

text

2011-04-11T11:53:00.000-07:00

i reach my hands out into this digital web
and hope you feel the tap of my text.

rugged camera

2011-04-09T15:07:00.000-07:00

this camera felt so nice in my hands. too bad this grumpy old man was asking $55 for it, and kept getting upset thinking i was gonna break it when i opened it up to make sure the shutter worked and the lens/filter were clean. next time..

friday night lights

2011-04-06T17:19:00.000-07:00

nikon em

2011-04-02T03:59:00.000-07:00

olympus 35c rangefinder

2011-04-02T03:57:00.000-07:00

argus/cosina stl 1000 camera

2011-04-02T03:55:00.000-07:00

the pics i didn't take

2011-03-31T20:49:00.001-07:00

@40th n MLK
the mumbling man with the wet fedora holding five white bags full of recycled cans. he wears a broad, sunny smile, eyes watered by either rain or pain.

@40th and West.
the cotton mouthed teenager bent over a baby cart he pushes like a broken lawnmower. and the child staring into the white sky above us as he reaches out in hopes of touching rain.

the living room reading series - san francisco

2011-03-30T23:56:00.000-07:00

shot with canon t2i and a really really crappy plastic lens thats gravely afraid of light. edited loosely with final cut prizzo.

warm image

2011-03-30T02:07:00.000-07:00

@Mills College

hmm..

2011-03-30T00:55:00.001-07:00

it's liberating to know that nobody really reads this blog.

it removes all expectations, allowing me to think aloud for a second and meditate in the quiet space of an electronic page.

i want to show you this picture i took with an old lens on a new camera. (click to enlarge)
these new nikon lenses i've been collecting are the coolest toys i've owned in years. they feel incredible when you manually focus. unlike cell phones and quick cameras that auto focus and choose your settings, with old SLRs, its you who are composing the entire image.

if you have the time, take a second to think about that.

why is it the picture that comes out slightly blurry the one that makes us feel something?

why do we enjoy the looks on our faces in candid shots, rather than the plastic "say cheese" smiles of the usual photographs.

its because that's how we experience the world. as slightly off balance, as something imperfect. and thus, real. complete. unique because it's a thing of its own.

think Henri Matisse. aren't lots of his paintings sloppily drawn people with distorted limbs and weak proportion? or are they timeless works of art that hold that intangible thing that we call life.

anyway..I'm beginning to see this tiny slice of internet as a big ass, empty room that nobody I ever know will ever enter, because they're too busy.

because no one is here, I can be myself. when I am myself, i am more happy. and when i'm happy i find i have lots of real things to say.

(but, to whom?)

spring wed

2011-03-26T19:18:00.000-07:00

uncertain about these ones. extras.

2011-03-26T03:52:00.000-07:00

in sf with friends

2011-03-24T15:15:00.001-07:00

snaps

2011-03-17T21:22:00.001-07:00

olympus rangefinder again

2011-03-17T20:08:00.000-07:00

the pay phone (silent film)

2011-03-16T00:42:00.000-07:00

starring Daryl Todaro as himself.
shot with canon t2i. first stab at editing.

more oakland images

2011-03-12T00:45:00.000-08:00

olympus 35rc

2011-02-28T13:27:00.000-08:00

taken with olympus 35rc rangefinder camera (1972)

2009-07-07T20:13:00.001-07:00

2009-07-07T20:12:00.002-07:00

2009-07-07T20:12:00.001-07:00

2009-07-07T20:11:00.002-07:00

2009-07-07T20:11:00.001-07:00

2009-07-07T20:10:00.002-07:00

2009-07-07T20:10:00.001-07:00

2009-07-07T20:09:00.002-07:00

2009-07-07T20:09:00.001-07:00

2009-07-07T20:08:00.000-07:00

2009-07-07T20:07:00.000-07:00

2009-07-07T19:54:00.000-07:00

art school

2009-02-23T14:06:00.001-08:00

I'm feeling guilty right now because while the economy is in the dirt, here I am, in sunny northern california, working only part time, in graduate school.

I left the banking world without looking back just before it all came tumbling down in pursuit of something that I'm realizing now is much harder than sitting in a cubicle all day and crunching numbers- Pure raw original creativity.

I haven't slept much since I started at Mills last fall. I'm writing pieces of fiction non stop, then having them work shopped in classes and re-writing them so that the holes in the story are filled, the body of work improved. I'm rubbing shoulders with other talented writers and artists, both published and up and coming. I'm developing screenplays, stage plays, taking photography courses, music courses, attending galleries, readings, concerts of all types, and working round the clock.

I have a newfound appreciation for those who lift creative interests above the realm of "hobby" and into that of "work". Its no joke. Its a hustle, like it is everywhere, and most rewarding in this labor of love, is that it has lasting value. (Just think of the last good movie you saw, or book you read, or picture that moved you).

Pray for me,

"The Novel I'll Never Write", coming soon.

i hope.

colombia, looking back

2008-03-24T16:42:00.001-07:00

some lost photos.

i really miss this place.

the way blogs are ordered

2007-10-07T09:32:00.000-07:00

they kind of discourage checking out the beginning, the first posts...here's a reminder. these are some of my favorites from colombia. im working on the putting together the music as we speak. cheers.

the music...

2007-09-27T10:59:00.000-07:00

As much as I sometimes feel that it is, my trip this year isn't over. Not until I organize everything i've accumulated on the road. Expect more postings, I may be in new york, but i'm still traveling....

this will take some time to sort through, but i PROMISE mixes. free, like the cassetes we used to make for each other in the 80s. labeled and everything.

cheers,

cool brazilian loungy song here "Triste" by Elis Regina.

2007-09-12T11:00:00.000-07:00

looking at Josh's pictures really make me miss jamaica. imean, look....

next question i pose to myself, why did i come back?

final shots from a broken camera

2007-07-19T05:06:00.001-07:00

i could easily give you a 1000 words for each of these images, but who has the time??

now, this lady above, who lives and works in Playa Blanca, is going to be included in this photography project/book by a friend of mine, Maya. She is probably the best photographer i´ve ever personally known besides
Josh ,and while I know Im going to hear it for leaking her work...below is one of the pages from the project. Ill share a link for her website when its finished...its being redone at the moment.

check the websites...i´m not lying, its amazing stuff.

E´s visit...

2007-07-19T04:24:00.000-07:00

My last 2 weeks in Colombia. E´s first 2 weeks. debauchery. strait..debauchery.

..i promise you thats salt.

twist of fate

2007-07-19T04:07:00.000-07:00

my boy Josh once told me that its usually around the 5 or 6 month mark that you begin to get homesick. struck me the other night...

i was sitting in a cafe, eating dinner solo, watching people, and it hit hard. jotted these notes down..

¨...the ones i envy now are not the free spirited city dwellers, but the ones who live in the world i came from. its the respective looking ones with v-neck sweaters, jeans and leather jackets, dress shoes, walking with their girlfriends in their arms to theatres and restaraunts.

the ones who wear whatever the popular fashion magazines tell them to. the ones with jobs, who dont get stopped by the police, and for whom alcohol and drug use is only a weekend pastime. those who follow the politics and daily news that i now ignore.

..the productive members of society, so caught in the rhythm of daily habits which last year made me nauseous. i miss those things now. waking up early to screaming alarm clocks, taking the bus, drinking coffee, complaining about work, earning degrees, cooking dinner...¨

its as though in some twist of fate i couldnt understand i was coming to envy them. was being led right back to where i started.

my story now is no different than that of a child who runs away from home for a day, only to find that its cold outside, and that the feeling of freedom soon fades into one of nostalgia for the comforts that once prevented it.

so what does the child do? he feels silly for a while, drags his feet in thought of why he ran in the first place, enjoys the views in his neighborhood he never noticed before, and eventually makes his way home...which he´ll see with a new sense of appreciation. yep. hopefully.

gringos

2007-07-03T08:58:00.000-07:00

first off, before this trip i hated the word GRINGO, from its origin, to its present day use, but as often as im referred to as one, i´ve come to realize that its not so much used as a derrogatory term, but more as a descriptive term, meaning foreigner. specifically, foreigner from the united states. i come from america, so therefore its always, "meet my friend, Ed, hes a gringo".

but as an african-american who now speaks decent spanish, i take full advantage of my ability to blend in. sometimes, so much so that i forget where im from and i catch myself watching foreigners with the same awe and curiosity as the natives do.

gringos are everywhere. they usually appear in bunches, and come from united states, canada, europe, israel, or australia. the ´privigeled´ bunch, for whom traveling is an option, and leisure. (im not excluded from this).

there are things i love and hate about them: love the boldness and adventerous spirit. in hostals, cafes and tourist sites, gringos-...with their large backpacks, thick hiking boots, and hippie appearance, are always focused and on the move. theyre discoverers.

its common to see them sliding their fingers across maps, arguing over the best land routes to wherever the Lonely Planet tells them they should be going.

my nomadic indifference to guide books and maps, combined with my horrible sense of direction, often gets me lost, or in trouble. but thats my perogative. my problem. typical gringos are much more efficient travelers than me.

honestly, i admire their knowledge of places theyve never been and willingess to try new foods, meet new people.

what i dont like is the occasional unwillingness to speak the language of the country theyre in. how they rush through countries snapping pictures without ever getting to know the people (besides cab drivers), as if the point of traveling is to see the sights, and not experience the culture. maybe it is?

so, as hard as it is to write this since i come from the gringo world, i felt i had to because it brings up so many mixed emotions within me. i mean, i prefer staying with people, in their homes, or at friends apartments, but at times i miss speaking english. i miss the hostels, because theyre easier, more comfortable. at the same time, i hate this convenience. why go half way around the world to stay in a hostel all day, watch tv, and talk?

love meeting people from all of these different countries who all love to travel, but hate going out in groups with them. to me, its an invitation to getting ripped off.

its also confusing being considered rich. as though, not only am i lost in translation at times, but also in currency exchange rates and opposing interpretations of cost of living.

i pay $20 for a bag that would easily cost $100 in the states, and both me and the person who sold it to me walks away thinking that the other got ripped off. my colombian friends look at me like ive got money growing off a tree in my backyard or something. it gets confusing.

all in all, like anything else, there the good and the bad. ive met some absolutely amazing and incredible people, who, like me, are also "gringos", but dont fit the profile. of course, ive also met many that make me more embarassed than i already am to be an american. it is what it is.

gringo ED

minor update

2007-06-29T11:36:00.000-07:00

havent blogged in a while. been rather lost in this country. lost in countless moments i know ill wish i took better advantage of in the future. i do feel like every day i'm living the nostalgia thatll distract me at my next job, wherever that is. but while im here, the story goes like this...

this guy, William Morales, plays just about every hand made indigenous instrument ever invented. this clip is only a fraction of his talent.

carlito sway, executive producer of a colombian hip hop documentary and compilation album.

mosko fly, fyah fox and dynomite (incredible reggae band)

DJ blanko, a passionate dj here in bogota, specializing in rare underground funk and quality hip hop..

dj okze´s mpc 60 vs my mpc 500 at chopshop studios

dj pho´s casa.

i've spent the past several weeks(months really), following the invisible current to wherever it happened to lead me. the stories ill organize later, the music i can barely keep up with, theres so much, and the views i catch when i can with this 2nd hand camera ive got.

but i also understand that every adventure has to come to an end. it only makes sense. it wouldnt be what it was if it lasted forever. the moments of clarity wouldnt be what they are if they werent surrounded by periods of confusion. you have to get lost in order to be found. and my computer had to break for some reason too...although i honestly havnt figured out the lesson there.

what i have realized is that i seem to be happiest in all the places i've traveled either just after i arrive, or right before i leave. cant figure out why im like that. as much as i love staying, and really getting to know a place, when your time is short...you tend to value it more.

vacations are cool because its empowering and equally fun to drop in on foreign lands, knowing you wont be there tomorrow, no reputation to feel obliged to, and so naturally ..you tend to have more fun, reinvent yourself, do bold things that you normally wouldnt do. try new things, talk to new people, dance, smile and laugh out loud. do whats innappropriate. whats not expected.

when you actually live somewhere...its different. yes, you can meet more people and build more meaningful contacts than the here today, gone tommorow type of traveling, but eventually all the buildings which were once so magnificent, all the sunsets you wanted to call home about, and the interesting characters you found everywhere simply become things you barely notice on your way to work.

strange thing about bogota is that its nearly 2,600 meters high in the sky. i dont know how many feet that is...but i can tell you that im at eye level with the clouds. i fall short of breath quickly when walking up hills and stairs, and again, the views are something that make me wish my good camera never broke.

6 months ago, this was a place i barely knew existed. Colombia went from being a random spot on the map i was as indifferent to as any other country really (with my shameful american sense of geography), to becoming a place filled with countless memories, images and stories. all of this could have easily been foods i never tasted, friends i never met, and stories i never took part in. whatever its worth, at least now i know.

saludes a todo

published again

2007-06-07T14:55:00.000-07:00

You can pick up WAxPoetics issue 23 in Borders, Barnes and Nobles, or waxpoetics.com. I interviewed and wrote about soul group RAMP, who Tribe Called Quest sampled for the classic tune, ´Bonita Applebum´. Check it out, most of all enjoy (its an excellent magazine).

free music from Taganga, Colombia

2007-06-04T23:04:00.001-07:00

my boy Stevie asked a question i should have asked myself a long time ago-- why not share some of music ive been picking up on the blog.

problem solved. if you click the link below, it should allow you to stream or download a song Rolando played for me live on the beach, in Taganga, on the northern coast of Colombia. a paradise in its own special way. enjoy.

Rolando Sanchez

PASTO-hip hop conference

2007-06-04T16:18:00.000-07:00

I'm in Pasto, a city deep down on the southern coast of Colombia, just above Equador. I produced a few songs for a group here in Cali, Rimadores de Silencio, and therefore was invited to the event.

A weekend full of forums, concerts, parties and lots of events. but i'll admit the most of the valuable experiences occured in the time in between. The conversations, learning new slang, sharing music, joking around, wandering around the city.

up in the mountains.

Somehow I was convinced into participating in a panel discussion....

Although I barely speak Spanish, and i'm not one for public speaking, I accepted-not knowing that the event was going to be televised and that every hip hop fan in Pasto was going to be there that evening.
The form was your typical one-community leaders working with kids and artist to make a change, educate, discuss culture, discuss music.

from my "sometimes-i-work-sometimes-i-dont" camera.

Hip Hop....
....no matter how much it resemebles noise at times, is such a powerful culture. For me, at least, It's an excellent gateway to people's stories. These emcees are nothing but young poets. Some, I believe more talented than writers in ivy league schools. Others, not so much...but cut from the street and given no other outlets, so they use it as a tool to have their voices heard.

same thing with salsa, bossa nova, jazz, rock, reggae....history repeating itself.

AFter Parties.

IM FAMOUS.
when we first got to the afterparty, i walked to the bar to ask for some wine and a few cups, nothing more. the bartenders eyes lit up as he shook my hand and welcomed me to his club. He then told me that my money was no good there, and asked me to have a seat as though he were lucky to know me and not the other way around. Of course, I played along and got free drinks all night ..but i did feel guilty for a split second or two.

And then later on, during a conversation with one of the emcees in the group, I was interrupted by another kid, who timidly approached us and politely asked for autographs. I am, by no means famous, and at this point all the attention was becoming slightly rediculous to me. I wanted to be real with him and tell him I wasn't the one who should be signing his poster, but the excitement on his face, and the look of admiration from his brother who stood watching his sibling meet some 'artists' stopped me. I think i realized, at that moment, how much this stuff means to some people. So I shook his hand, asked his name, listened to his aspirations for a few minutes, and signed the autograph.

my 15 minutes are up, i enjoyed them.

and i just finished "100 years of solitude". so good, ive already started re-reading it.

the death of a computer

2007-06-04T15:52:00.000-07:00

today marked both the beginning and end of my career as a DJ.

i woke up to a call from the owner of this trendy bar who asked me to DJ for the night. I was clearly excited. paid gig.

Get my music together, invited friends, showed up, started my set.
within 30 minutes, the audience starts complaining. they didnt want to hear soul, tranquil hip hop, nor funk. just electro. fine. i changed it up, as i've learned dj's have to do, and got them dancing.

few minutes later, amidst conversation with friends, some girls from Miami, random music requests, and drunk people dancing...a beer spills. my computer is hit. the drink spreads in between the keys rapidly, faster than i can manage to find paper towels and dry it off. i went into shock.

after i managed to clean the computer and table, everything seemed fine. people are dancing, and i, for some reason, smile like its my birthday or something. i want to pat my macbook on the back cause it can survive anything. its a soldier. so i go back to my playlist only to find that the mouse isnt responding. hmm. i move to switch a song, and everything shuts off.

people started complaining-they want to dance. i try to turn on my baby, but its eyes remained closed.

so after months of thinking id drop the computer in the amazon or get robbed in the dangerous inner cities, its a $2 dollar beer that ends up destroying my $1500 computer. how wonderful.

and despite all of this, while friends try to console me with the 'dont-worry-it'll-be-okay' talk, and the bartender tells me not to throw it out if its broken, because he'll take it, ..i'm lost in my own thought over me and my attachment to material things. why i'm sad although i know in the big picture i have no reason to be. i was also wondering if i owned the computer, or if it owned me.

anyway, stung by the pain of conflicting emotions, a new philosophy was born. basically, hold on to everything you have as though it will be gone tomorrow...because it often is.

RIP macbook.
(i know you'll wake up one day)

cab drivers

2007-06-04T15:21:00.000-07:00

the other day, i hopped in a cab and asked the driver to take me to the terminal. he turned around and looked at me, as if he didnt understand, and asked again. i explained again where i was going, and he said fine.

what i didnt know was that while he asked the question the second time, he was having one of those moral moments--times where your character is being tested. like when you see somebody drop a $20 dollar bill on the floor and you know you can take it without anyone every knowing. theres usually a moment when you toy with the two options, and deep down you know that your answer to the question reveals what type of person you are at that given moment.

he took the money.

drove me around town, even making light conversation before dropping me off at the terminal. 10,000 pesos (about $4US).

the following week, while walking around my neighborhood, i found out that the terminal was a whopping 3 blocks from my apartment. the definition of walking distance. i had no idea. sneaky bastard.

back and forth from bogota to cali

2007-05-27T22:07:00.000-07:00

breathe

2007-05-17T09:13:00.000-07:00

so important to stay in tune

vinyl episodes pt2

quantic just got an ipod commercial----> http://www.apple.com/itunes/ads/

get a second look at the coolest kicks i've seen in a while..."cracks"

mother and son

they grow up grow so fast...

audio/visual

2007-05-11T22:32:00.000-07:00

i've come to understand that for a lot of people, this blog may be a bit of an escape from that office life i stubbornly chose to dodge.

i will say.....last year and the years before, i remember that nearly every co-worker of mine, regardless of the floor they were on, or size of their cubicle, had something...something they could use to get them through the rough times. for some, it was a picture or postcard of a sunny beach on the Virgin Islands (or someplace exotic like that)....

For others, it was pictures of their families. Particularly for those with newborns, I imagine it must be nice to know what you're working for, and what you're coming home to every night. more than enough to get you through the day...assuming you love your kids.

For others..pictures of their families and what they were coming home to every night probably stressed them out even more....!?. For them, society created hobbies, sports and alcohol.

Whatever it is, we all have something, and for me, it was websites, particularly those of other travelers, and thoughts of how I would do it if I ever had the chance to visit places like Dubai, India, Figi, Madagascar, wherever. I love reading about new places, seeing pictures and watching videos. Not so long ago, this was something we could only do in libraries. That, or TV.

the internet is a lovely thing, and i say we take full advantage of it. with that being said, I actually have broadband access for the moment. So I'm going to try and spice this place up.

If this is your escape....I'm trying to make the ride a bit smoother. 2 minutes of your coffee break is all i'm asking. First order of business,...............videos.

and I've enable comments, so please leave a note!!!.......and some money on the nightstand :)

-ed ntiri

drummers from the atlantic coast

that rave party in Medellin i tried to explain in words but only a video could capture...

Alex, martial arts ...

every night...salsa.

my boy double A on the freestyle

cheers,

quick memory-2 months back

2007-05-10T14:26:00.000-07:00

had a dream last night about when i got lost in the jungle. never wanna do that again.

decided to post the memory.

Ciudad Perdida (the lost city)
-if/when you ever decide to travel to colombia, a must do hike. (...just dont get lost).

this man taught me how to make a fire, and how to cook an healthy and savory meal for 3 or 4 people in just 1 pot.

she sold probably one of the best gatorades ive ever had in my life.

the last portion of the hike involved crossing this river about 6 times. some took off their shoes so their so socks wouldnt get wet. some had sandals. some (like me) were too lazy to untie laces so just walked through it. at one point, lost..me and my boy Jess were just walking down the center of the river. water up to our waists, the current strong, trying to find our way back on the path.

and like so many other analogies for life, after hiking for 3 days...tired, anxious, dirty, you reach the top. see the remains of a once thriving city...and everything immediately makes sense. the waterfalls and unbelievable view don't hurt either.

its obvious why the king of every jungle usually has a spot way up at the top of the mountain. like the eagles who have nests in the higest branches on the tallest trees. a place where nobody else can easily get to. a place where you can have peace, enjoy the view..and most importantly, see everything below you.

better fotos

2007-05-08T19:45:00.000-07:00

colombia playground.

my boy Xamir.

barrio corduba

a few more shots..

2007-05-04T14:57:00.000-07:00

Puerto Tejada

2007-05-02T10:36:00.000-07:00

I never knew there existed an Africa outside of Africa itself. I’m in a town called Puerto Tejada, just outside of Cali, and I’m surrounded by people of African descent....-Afro Colombians. They look like West Africans, but all speak nothing but Spanish, dance salsa music literally every night, and drink back to back. These people truly know how to have a good time. They great me warmly, welcome me into their homes, and treat me like family. I’m in constant awe of everything here, the language, the similarity to other people of African descent, the culture, the food.

This town is about 2 hours from the Pacific Coast of Colombia. I do miss the beach, but there is also plenty here to keep me occupied for a minute.

thinking man.

salsa all the time.

liquor all the time too.

rhumba.

andres kickin game.
lisee, nickname..sticky.

excellent market.

For example, my friend Andres´s uncle, whose house I stayed at for a few nights, immediately reminded me of my own father, a Ghanaian(he´s the one with the bike in the pic below). The same pensive look in his eyes, same warmth and friendliness. Nearly identical facial features, and even voice. But aren’t we all Africans? Somewhere down the line, families got split, West Africans ended up scattered all over South and North America, and mixed with other cultures to create entirely new variations of the same people. I’m only one of many in this Diaspora and I think I'm starting to see, quite clearly, that we’re all of the same blood. Same roots.

Shame I had to travel halfway 'round the world to realize something so obvious, but some of us learn by reading, some by listening to what we're told, other by doing. I had to see it for myself, and I will say its incredibly humbling. It immediately humbles you. And besides Africans, the "white" people down here aren´t "white" at all. They´re a unique mix of European, African, and Indigeneous people. There's something cool about that, that I cant quite articulate. I always naively thought that Indigenous people, the original people in the Americas were gone, because you dont exactly see them walking around in NYC...but their blood and spirit is within everyone down here. Its kind of exiting.

More on this later if I ever make it to countries like Peru, Bolivia, Equador, Chile...where I'm sure the people are just as distinct. So much to see, not nearly enough time. Never mind my thoughts, instead, ...more photos.

i really want a moto bike...love these things.
the family.

friends.

outside the jam.

and in summary....

CALI

2007-05-02T09:58:00.001-07:00

So I took a trip to a city closer to the pacific coast called Cali and it immediately changed my life. Decided I would move here, so I packed my bags, said goodbye to Bogota (rains too much, although I love the city), and moved to the official Salsa Capital of the world.

I rented a room from the family of a friend in a barrio called Union. Beautiful place, looks exactly like certain parts of the African continent. Dilapidated buildings, kids playing soccer in the streets, absolutely beautiful women who all seem to have babies at a pretty young age, the toddlers playing with toy cars attached to strings while their mothers gossip with friends on the front steps of their homes. Elders seated on their porches watching it all, barely moving at all. Beautiful staircases. Fresh fruits, meats or pastries sold on every corner. More people ride bicycles and moto-bikes than cars. The people who do have cars, all have old ones, with lots of character, kind of like cars in Cuba, antiques. And most of all, everyone seemingly pretty happy. Laughing is very common, Spanish spoken much more musically than in the north of Colombia, and also a bit more dramatic and “improper” (i.e., slang, abbreviated words), but it sounds much better although harder to understand at times.

There is a an incredible amount of energy in the people here. Salsa blasts from every house you walk by, …drinks flows like water. People dance literally every night, and on holidays (of which there are many), people dance for a few days in a row in celebration of whats good in life.

But along with the good comes the opposite. Cali is one of the more dangerous cities in Colombia. My comrades (ninjanomads.blogspot.com) were supposed to come down here, but I believe it was a recent terrorist attack that deterred their decision. After visiting and hanging out at the Universidad de Valle, I understand why.

The people here are very, and I mean very, political. The students protest nearly everything. They are as liberal as it gets, but also some of the most unique and inspiring students I’ve ever met. They constantly put up very clever, political graffiti all over the school. There are loads of emcees and reggae artists (many I’m in the process of recording with), who make music just as poignant. Everyone here has a distinct style, as well. It’s a school of individuals…fits perfectly with the city it’s the center of. Outside of many classrooms here, are flower pots with marijuana plants growing as high as 3 or 4 feet tall. You see what I mean when I say liberal. That’s just how it is here in Cali. And in the neighborhoods like where I’m staying, as beautiful as they are, people don’t have much, and so, kids often grow into hoodlums by night. My family here won’t let me walk around alone at night. I’m either calling a taxi, or not going out.

goodbye bogota...

2007-05-02T09:58:00.000-07:00

bought a stolen camera for real cheap, so now i dont have to write so much every time i update this thing. much easier to speak with pictures.

here are some shots of my last 2 weeks or so in BOGOTA

settling down

2007-04-11T08:39:00.000-07:00

i´m laughing a lot more nowadays. actually speaking understandable spanish, making conversation, doing my best to blend in. meeting people everywhere. i do get frustrated daily when i cant communicate, but that same frustration is reversed so quickly in moments when i can. its rainy season in bogota, so it rains nearly every day but all in all, this is still an incredibly beautiful city to me.

yesterday walking around the university, ran into bibiana angel, a really dedictated political science major determined to work for international human rights, specifically those in the war inflicted regions of colombia. people like this (and she is 1 of many examples) inspire me, and although i feel like theres little movement on my part compared to what shes doing, its still valuable. theres no need to feel lazy or inept, cause its not about that. anyway,..the dedication..you can see it in her eyes. i want that same fire. that passion. while having lunch with her, ran into two more women from the states who work for an NGO out here, doing the same thing. we gets to talking, and all of us end up back at their place for wine and pasta, listening to Goodie Mob and talking about politics and life.

My camera broke so i have no pictures of Bibiana, Janice or Comila, but I´m kind of glad I dont. I´m now living in Bogota, instead of just visiting so i dont walk around snapping pictures like a tourist. I no longer stay in a hostel nor hang out with fellow foreigners. Ive got an apartment, and somewhat of a mission, and its a liberating feeling. In the absense of pictures, I´ve got more valuable stories forever ingrained in my memory. Stories that could not have existed had I only been passing through, like I did in most places Id traveled to prior to this moment..

that being said, here are the last pictures I have of Bogota before my camera sadly broke (big shout out to Samsung for deciding to dip over into the camera market without knowing sht about it).

and with writing..i mean, when i lived in Atlanta, I worked maybe 60 hours a week between two jobs and a social life, and still managed to write the novel which I never published. When i moved to NYC, and worked down on Wall Street (which seems like ages ago), I worked the same amount and even more when you add in the commute and stress, and I somehow managed to establish a semi-decent and well recieved group with a childhood friend of mine (matt shaw), the Analog Social Club and released a CD and plenty of music.

Now, not working at all for the past 3 months, seemingly all the time in the world, and I havent written a word, and havent produced much. Last few years, my head was buried in books, and now I barely have time to read. Its so strange. I´m not lazy though, just too busy living in the moment to care much for capturing it with "art". At times i feel like im being unproductive, but like everything, its all relative. for now, im a student of the world. studying hard.

the people i´ve met in my first few weeks here in Bogota, are all like shining stars. like personal angels or something. they all have something to teach me. be it guitar lessons, spanish(i still havent gotten in a class..i learn in the street), or words of wisdom. whts funny is that its the other travelers who have the words of wisdom, especially those in the latter parts of their journeys. those who are from here in Colombia have no idea they are imparting wisdom on me. theyre just being themselves..who they are, and im incredibly inspired by it.

one of the few Americans who Ive actually met and liked, Colin, (who is from colorado and has been traveling through latin america for the past 7 months, and counting) shared with me these 3 things he loves in life:

1- AWE....feeling genuinely overwhelmed by something
2- GRATITUDE...the genuine sentiment of being grateful for everything you have at any given moment
3- ENTHUSIASM...we all know what this is, but i feel like few of us excercise it ourselves, or realize how much we´re moved by other peoples excitement for things. makes you a believer.

and I shared with him what moves me the most..that being ADMIRATION. like when you meet someone or a type of person that you never knew existed. when i meet peole so free, so sure of themselves, so dedicated, so smart, so honest with themselves and the world. theres this humble warm feling which fills me with (1)awe, (2)gratitude and gives me energy (3-enthusiasm) whenever i experience something this.

and then on top of all this, theres are those, who continually suprise you the more you get to know them. like my own mother, for example. the more of her past that is slowly revealed to me as our relationship grows, the more i realize exactly why she is who she is. the thoughts above are all from people i´ve JUST met and immediately connected with. whats sometimes even more valuable, is watching where the relationships go with time.

and that being said, i truly miss everyone back in the States (minus our president), who have played a part in leading me here. Friends, Frat, Family, etc. Much love.

sorry for the book chapter...(i want a new camera..but mui costoso)

disfrutes la musica

2007-03-27T20:31:00.000-07:00

i finally found a market with records. LOTS of them. Complete luck, just strolling around some streets and ran into a centro commercial called Puentos. Struck up some good conversations here, bought a jacket for about $1 dollar, plus 30 or so records for about $8 bucks. pictures....

this collector is Jaime Juicenos, a music lover who was more than willing to speak for a while about the various types of Colombian music. If you're ever in Colombia and need records, get in touch with me and I'll lead you directly to these two. They have an incredible library.

and this is the other guy I met in this market who had gems. Albeiyo Moutoya, real humble guy..sits down here all day and listens to music. For collectors...a must visit. When it comes to Colombian music, he's got everything...literally. He also used to play piano, but thats all i could pry out of his musical past. He was more concerned with showing me his favorite pieces of vinyl. Good fellow.

learning spanish has been a slow process. I've made it to the point where I can communicate on a basic level but thats not nearly enough. I still cannot communicate ideas, feelings, or basically say anything deeper than "Yes, No, Maybe, I like it/ I kind of like it/ etc etc." Real difficult, but I'm grateful for the people along the way who've been kind enough to write down words for me, or help me with my pronounciation. I know there were plenty of times where foreigners in New York may have asked me for something...and I looked at them like they were crazy. tables turned...and I appear crazy to someone every day. Takes getting used to, but poco a poco, I'm learning. Thanks to all who have helped. With each new conversation, I'm slowly learning not only a new language, but the voice of a people.

Interning at WaxPoetics Magazine, a magazine specializing in rare funk, soul, jazz, and hip hop music doesn' hurt. My taste for rare music in all the countries of the world has only increased. And Colombia's music history is rich. New issue has James Brown on the cover. Pick it up if you can. I wish i could find an issue out here. waxpoetics.com. best magazine in the world (in terms of content and style).

photos

2007-03-26T22:09:00.000-07:00

more Medellin

2007-03-26T13:22:00.000-07:00

So I realize I've been in Colombia for quite some time now. It was supposed to be 3 weeks, in and out...then on to Argentina, Chile, Equador, Peru, etc...but as always, things change. Depending on how things go with my Visa paperwork, it looks like I may spend a few months here in Colombia. While I have no idea what will happen tomorrow that'll have me feeling different about my choice, for now I'm looking for an apartment, an english teaching job, a spanish course, and a salsa instructor.

Medellin is a city I haven't quite figured out yet. There's definately lots of money here. To quote my fellow traveler Ryno (his blog-->http://www.ninjanomads.blogspot.com), all the women look like Barbie dolls. Plastic surgery is huge. Everyone has braces. The good (but fake) looking women all date these dorky looking rich guys(who love guys that look like barbie dolls). The rave party we went to was a perfect example of this...

On the flipside, there are these neighborhoods (or barrios) outside of Medellin that are incredible. My photographer friend Josh has better photos of them than I, but they are humble neighborhoods, which i'd describe as "acojedora" if speaking in Spanish. Its my understanding that acojedora sigifies something familiar, comfy, friendly, ambient. They're all elevated into the mountains, and have wonderful views of the city. Small communities with no rich snobby people, but warmer, friendly people just doing what they do, carrying on thier lives.

As a traveler, its usually difficult to blend in to places like this but if you meet the right people, its a seamless transition. I happened to get lucky, and through some university students, met a wonderful family who lives in one of these barrios. Dania, her brother Daniel, and their mother are all from the Choco region of the country (where most of the country's African population are from..close to the coast and the Panamaian border). They took me into their home, helped me with my spanish, taught me about the various types of Colombian music, and cooked me up a mean meal as well. Its refreshing to meet people like this, because quite honestly everyone else I've met in Medellin (probably because of the area of the city I'm staying in), have been nice, but distant. Like I'm here..but we're all of different worlds. Friendlines on the surface, but beneath that a deep disconnect. I didn't feel that with this family. A cozy city indeed, Medellin.

subway scenes..

kids on a swing..

Julien's a cool guy. studying audio engineering...specializing in reggae music.

this guys holding a belt, but with my camera (which now works only when it feels like..), it looks like some sort of magic rainbow thingie..

jess esta loco

augustine is one of the most free human beings i've ever met. more stories about this character from the wonderful land of Argentina coming later. We plan to produce an entire album together...

the watchmaker.

this cat is really cool. very friendly. every time we leave or arrive to the hostel, no matter what time of day or night, this cat walks us to (or from) the gate to make sure we get to where we're going safely. I'm really starting to like cats.

my parting shot. make love, not war.

ed.ntiri@gmail.com

medellin

2007-03-11T12:38:00.000-07:00

i met "Acara" (i cant spell her name..but thats how its pronounced) in front of the museum of contemporary art in downtown medellin. she sits down people watching all day, and every 15 minutes, she stops one of the vendors for a bon bon. her favorite, she told me, was apple loli-pops. sweet lady.

always odd to me that national heroes, in this case simon bolivar, have these magnificent statues of themselves mounted in park centers. and every time you look at them, the peole sitting in front of them are indiffernt to the legacy.

Homer is one of the elderly guys that sits down in parks all day. I struck up conversation with him to practice my Spanish, and ended up having a pretty funny conversation.

i want this bike.

liliana is a medical student here. struck up good conversation with her after i got lost on my first day.

i miss the nyc subway. for now its the medellin metro.

the proper way to chill in parks.

if anyone knows the name of this scupltor...please let me know. they've got an entire park here full of his work, and i really like it.

and no matter where you go, cant escape homeless. there are a million images of homeless i've seen for every 1 that i actually snap with my camera.

more photos

2007-03-07T15:45:00.000-08:00

and because images are worth a thousand words....some more photos from my handy little digi camera.

and if you like music...some tunes i've made while abroad can be found at myspace.com/djeddieleonard. (analog social club). ciao amigos

my friend josh took this one from a trance party on the beach

taganga

taganga

park tayrona

carnival in baranquilla

park tayrona

taganga

cartegena market (a great market)

friends in barranquilla

colombia!

2007-03-07T15:28:00.000-08:00

Describing Colombia isn’t easy. You have cities like Cartagena with dilapidated Spanish architecture in bright hues of yellow, blue, orange and red….looks kind of like a bigger version of Havana, Cuba. Then you’ve got places like Playa Blanca or Park Tayrona, with breathtaking clear beaches, swaying palm trees, and easy going people who prefer hammocks to chairs, and say hello to everyone who passes them by.

playa blanca has spectacular sunsets, nightly.

And then there’s the little places in between like Taganga, a small fishing village outside of Santa Marta, where we ended up staying for 3 weeks. I can’t begin to count the number of characters I’ve met here. The scuba diving instructors, other travelers, musicians on the beach, jewelry makers, children, older folks, …everyone. All special in their own way. All playing a small part in why this place is such a paradise. I was even offered a job waiting tables at the best baguette shop in town. I was told I’d pull in about 1700 pesos an hour. Exchange rate is currently 2240 for 1 US dollar. No tips. I seriously considered it, and might take him up on it if he includes lodging. I eat on $5 US dollar a day here, and as a traveler spend about $7 per night for my room. The people are poor, but with their way of life makes it difficult to tell. They find time drink good rum, listen to music, dance, play, joke, make friends. There’s nothing but time in a place like this.

Taganga deserves its own photography book, and novel, but for now I’ll share these images. As far as favorite places, its in my top 3 right now. Beautiful place, beautiful people.

After getting certified to scuba dive in Taganga, we headed off for a 6 day trek to Ciudad Perdidia (Lost City). This is a city that is believed dates back to the 14th century, indigenous people. The hike was intense. All jungle. 3000 meters up in the mountains of Colombia. The trek was such that there was mountain on one side, a cliff, and a river way down below. One bad slip, and its your life. My friend Jess and I actually got lost by the river on our 4rd day. The path split into two, and we chose the wrong one. After crossing the river like 5 times, trying to look for where we thought a path would be, it started to get dark. The rocks we had to scale to advance up the river were getting larger, and soon there were not paths at all. Just jungle. We frantically tried to cross the river again, and somewhere in that last run, we both realized we’d be spending the night out in the jungle, alone, with no food, until someone could find us. We’d seen spiders the size of dinner plates on the rocks all day, and heard sounds of animals out in the wild. Tonight we were going to meet them.

Luckily enough, just after it got dark, our cries for help were received, and our guide came slashing through the trees with his machete, and led us out of there. Turns out, there were 2 main rivers not just one. We went to the wrong one, hence the rocks were huge and there was no path, and crossing the river meant walking through water that came above our waists. Lesson learned.

Finally arriving to the city made it all worthwhile too. Before you can reach the city, you have to climb up 2600 or so steps, which took me about an hour. Once you get to the top, you’re first taken by the view. A king of the jungle type of view, were you’re 4000 meters high, waterfall to your right, and layers and layers of mountains and jungle all around you.

The city itself is a series of pueblitos made of stone, built into the mountainside. Steps were constructed to connect them all together, but unfortunately, most of it is overgrown with jungle., so its unexplorable. If you walk around with a machete, and just start chopping, you can still find shacks, tools, and pottery. I even explored a bit on my own down some dangerously narrow steps, and found more bits of the city, hidden under the jungle.

kingston

2007-03-07T15:20:00.000-08:00

The big city, nearly opposite of the countryside we’ve been driving through for 3 weeks. 110 murders in the month of January alone, most of them occurring in the bad parts of this city. All the girls, all the gangsters, all the musicians, artists, politicians, businessmen. All here.

Was fortunate enough to link up with a friend of a friend, Treasure, a studio engineer out here and build.

Went out to his studio, ran into a slew of dancehall artists inside and outside the studio, and later that evening, I had the laptop out, pro-tools open, and a microphone hooked up to the computer and MPC, while Treasure dropped freestyles over some beats we put together.

Met, and briefly spoke with the owners of One Love record store. Spoke with these two Italian dudes Marco and Lampa (with locks), about reggae music, how they set up this distribution thing, and ended up having like an hour long about religion, politics, life, etc. cool dudes. Love this place.

jamaica 2

2007-03-07T15:15:00.000-08:00

Ran into a rasta man named King Marco up in Ochos Rios. The beach was wack, the place too touristy, Marco was our only hope. He promised to show us the real Ocho Rios, what it looked like before the tourists came.

Next thing I know we’re stopping at a shop to pick up some herbals. He passes the bag back, gives us each a single Rizzla, and tells each one of us to roll up our own. So we bless up, and listen while King Marco starts talking.

“Rastafaria!!! Yessum. Yess. Respect Mon. Yea Mon. We have a good time. Real ting. Yea man. bless.” Pounding his right fist to his heart every few seconds to accentuate his depth. A worn rasta cap covered his naps, and a thick beard hugged his face.

“You see this plant here. That’s the most sensitive plant in the world. Touch it, and it folds up. Just goes away. Just like that. But it know when you leave, and it open back up.”

We tried, it worked.

“And see that one there. That we use them there for tea. Cleans the body. And this one…” He picks another pack of leaves, and tells me to smell. “This one for meditation. And the root, we use for soup.” He then went on to explain the numerous combinations of leaves, fruits, and root he’d used to make remedies. I ask Marco how a cab driver manages to know so much. His response: “The elders man. The elders taught this to us,” he laughs. “Everyone knows this.”

Picture walking alongside a road in the hillside with jungle to one side, and the Caribbean sea to your right. Now imagine, you veer off on an unmarked path towards the jungle, and find a valley with a river running through it. The river forms into a waterfall every 100 yards or so as you go further down into the hills.

He led us along the river to a waterfall which looked like the fountain of youth. An open pool of clear blue resting quietly under the open sun.

Ryno steps up, and jumps down. Devin does the same. She first looks down, is hella scared by drop, and backs off. After some motivational cheers, she jumps.

I’m content just seeing it, snapping pictures and trying to take in the moment, but as Devin’s drying herself off, explaining how she got the nerve to jump, two words escape her mouth which trigger reaction within me. Those words: why not. Spoken loosely, almost as though they belonged at the end of every sentence, triggered something.

“At first I didn’t want to jump, but then I thought to myself, I’m in Jamaica, why not?” A few seconds later I was stepping up to the diving board, living rather than thinking. Moving instead of wondering what-if.

And well worth it. Just beneath the waterfall is a cave that you can actually swim into. The rocks provide a ceiling just high enough for you to breath. To one side is darkness, the other, water falling onto water, and the fountain of youth that brought you here.

And rasta-man Marco, who took us there was just as happy. This was his little secret haven, where he could meditate, relax, take in the sun, and swim in the water. He jumped off a few waterfalls with us, and after drying his dreads, placed a spliff in between his lips, smiled with joy like he was a 7 year old boy again. “Too blessed to be stressed,” he tells me. Indeed.

jamaica-irie

2007-03-07T15:03:00.000-08:00

1-jamaica

In the hills riding a donkey through the rainforest, mingling with folk in the countryside, drinking warm Red Stripe with friendly locals, dipping in and out of sound systems blasting in the streets. Jumped in a fountain of youth yesterday in Ocho Rios. Blue Lagoon today. Reach falls tomorrow. Caves, hills, hammocks. Sun is always shining. Weather is always sweet.

My 2 favorite things to do in Jamaica are cab rides through the mountains, and walks along the beach. I do both daily. The taxi’s are old, beat up, stick shift, windows not working types, and the drivers know these dirt roads like the back of their hands. I don’t even care about running errands usually, its just the ride I need. Kind of like riding a rollercoaster, just a little more dangerous.

And the beaches of Jamaica, one of the reason it’s such a tourist attraction. I try to visit the beach daily. Such a small island, that it finds you whenever you go. The water from the ocean brushes past my feet. The sand smoothes itself out after the water retreats from the shoreline. The pressure from the water shapes the edges of the land. I’m very close to nature out here. My senses are constantly being given brand new life to take in, and things like this naturally change you.

Acting on impulse was my goal this year. It’s something certain friends of mine have showed me. I’m moved by people who live lives of action. No talking, only walking. Always reaching for new possibilities. Making their dreams manifest. Defining and creating their own reality, rather than accepting the life that’s been force fed to them. I hope I don’t sound too radical here, or unappreciative of the opportunity I’ve been given in the US, but I just couldn’t dig the nine to five hustle anymore.

some understand, some don’t. Not my concern at this moment. I’ve got plenty of time to sit in an office when I’m older. The thought of an office cubicle quite honestly just makes me nauseous right now…always has.

So the first few weeks in Jamaica can be summed up in one word - Irie. I haven’t known what time it is since I left New York. It’s irrelevant. I barely know what day it is. Everything is no problem here. I’m perfectly content waking up, touching the sky, eating breakfast, and sitting on the front porch all day watching people and relaxing in the breeze under the sun. It’s like I’m retired, only at 25.

There’s just less rush put on things they don’t feel are important. More emphasis attached to the vital. That generally being peace, love and happiness. Certainly starting to rub off a bit...

Just my interpretation so far. Will be in Colombia 2 weeks from the day I wrote this. Stay tuned homies. I miss New York (with the exception of the weather).

Much love. Keep in touch (ed.ntiri@gmail.com/ed@waxpoetics.com)