A blustery icy spell has blown into the west coast and everyone is in shivers. I watch snow fall outside my office window, blown up by big gusts of wind, listen to the sound of idle office chatter: the irritation of driving in the snow, the cold in people's bones, those early days when snow fell every year. I sit in the auditorium of a former convent for a meeting and feel the cold creep through my legs, to the point at which it is uncomfortable. I like cool weather but I am not used to this, yet. I must move, shake up, walk. I must move to remove myself from this.
And I thought of travel - the heat, the humidity, the dust and sweat in your hair. Of a scene in the Italian film Baaria where the Torrenuova family, searching for their own escape from a punishing hot and humid day, removed all the furniture from their living room, stripped down to their underwear, and lay flat on the cool white tiles.
It all brought me back to last spring, travelling through warm climates, where movement provided respite from the heat. And so I find myself revisiting those moments, where warmth and movement also brought memories. Asia through Motion is a video travel diary of some of these fine moments as I travelled through regions of Cambodia, Laos, Bali and Thailand.
As I pieced these memories together, I found myself watching the clips over and over, pulling small details with each viewing that in themselves brought their own sensations. I took myself back momentarily: to karst mountains and green rice paddies, to the wet smell of charcoal and incense, to the rumble of dusty motorbikes, to a split second image of a hunter making his way into the hazy Laotian jungle, crossbow strapped to his back.
One of the great memories is roaring through the old jungle roads in southern Laos, discovering one waterfall after another, with not a soul around. A segment of that journey is here. And I also loved traveling through Phnom Penh at night, breezing past the glorious-at-night national monument whether by moto or touktouk, which is also captured.
As I pieced these memories together, I found myself watching the clips over and over, pulling small details with each viewing that in themselves brought their own sensations. I took myself back momentarily: to karst mountains and green rice paddies, to the wet smell of charcoal and incense, to the rumble of dusty motorbikes, to a split second image of a hunter making his way into the hazy Laotian jungle, crossbow strapped to his back.
One of the great memories is roaring through the old jungle roads in southern Laos, discovering one waterfall after another, with not a soul around. A segment of that journey is here. And I also loved traveling through Phnom Penh at night, breezing past the glorious-at-night national monument whether by moto or touktouk, which is also captured.
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