I still don’t understand the point to photographing plants – never really been my thing.
I’ve been gravitating towards darker/moodier aesthetics, too. Florals are all but moody.
Shadows, contrast, and a lower exposure seem to add a certain je ne sais quoi, but I’m a long way from becoming a convert. Maybe I’m overthinking it, and that’s literally it – it’s just not my aesthetic.
Still, that was no excuse to ignore the cherry blossoms in Central Park. On my way to the park, I caught myself appreciating nature’s juxtaposition to the concrete jungle.
Oblivious to man’s carefully planned cityscape, ignorant of their deliberate inclusion; reclaiming their rightful place.
I struggle with writer’s block — accounting for my sporadic posts and overall lack of enthusiasm — and it’s affected my writing quite a lot. Paired with my general laziness, this combination has practically killed whatever creative streak I thought I had by creeping into my photography, too.
To combat this, I’ve had specific themes in mind while taking photos to better focus on subjects. I’m also revisiting solo photography excursions. I’ve got no qualms dining alone, but have avoided going shooting alone.
I prefer the company of friends/photographers while shooting (for good reason, too, I suppose) but the drawback is forgetting the contentment of one’s own company; I forgot what it was like to get lost exploring a place, and having no agenda.
I got frustrated being holed up at home one day and grabbed my camera, headed out and wound up with these.
On my final day up in the English northwest, I detoured through Liverpool for a day trip before heading back to London. An hour train ride from Manchester, and I was there. I planned the least for this trip – my rationale: it was just a day trip, surely I’d have enough Beatles things to see to keep me occupied! And if all else failed, I could go to Anfield to see what all the fuss is about. Thankfully the latter didn’t happen, because the weather had some other plans.
My first thought after exiting Liverpool Lime Station – it was smelly! Like a damp, musty smell that you can’t get off your clothes kind of smelly. That shouldn’t have affected my trip, but it wasn’t really a great start to the day. The city centre was right by the station so that made getting around by foot a breeze. I learned that most English cities were built around transport hubs so the main shopping attractions were within a stones throw, but of course that’s not why I went. It was an eclectic mix – a gigantic shopping mall smack in the heart of the city, but then a few streets away, quaint little shops and Albert Dock further down by the water.
Working from the outskirts back into the city, my first stops were the gate to Strawberry Field and Penny Lane. I didn’t know what to expect, to be honest, just that I had to go – I was in the Beatles’ hometown, I appreciated their music despite being a few generations too late, and they continue to be popular sites for fans to this day. It felt completely unreal though, and devoid of any of the emotion I was expecting. I remember standing in front of the gate and taking in the sight – but no emotion. No identifiable emotion, no sense of longing to know how John felt back when he spent time at the orphanage, no sense of overwhelming emotion walking down Penny Lane, just nothing. In hindsight, I think I was overwhelmed by my trip as a whole, and couldn’t process the emotions in the moment.
Afterwards, I stopped briefly by Sudley House before going to Liverpool Cathedral. The rain had just started coming down, and I left my umbrella in the train station along with the rest of my luggage. I didn’t fully grasp the magnitude of the building’s exterior (thanks, rain) but even my limited view of it/time spent there was enough for me to appreciate its beauty. The gothic revival was something (note my bias, though – I’m a sucker for anything symmetrical, nuanced, meticulous and detailed) and, if I didn’t have other places to check out, I would’ve easily spent my whole day trip there trying to take the perfect photos that just wouldn’t translate on to film.
Liverpool Lime
Strawberry Fields Forever
Georgian housing
The fog just started rolling in by the time I got to the cathedral
Rain meant two things – a dreadful time, but amazing photo ops
No points for guessing who these lads are
From the cathedral, I went straight back to the city centre with no idea on how to spend my last few hours. The rain was really coming down, but it was the annoying kind of misty rain, the inescapable rain that seeps through everything and chills you to the bone. I ended up walking past Chinatown and some Georgian houses, past a man yelling something – only made out the word “red” before smiling and walking on – straight to the Liverpool waterfront. The rain was seeping right through my boots by this point, but (un)fortunately, the weather made for a fantastic photo session. The fog and mist made commuting a nightmare, I found out, as I queued up to see how long it would take a ferry to dock. They also added dimension to my photos – or so I thought when I was taking them – and the challenge of keeping my camera safe + capturing these amazing photos I envisioned in my mind + avoiding the rain were enough motivation to stay out by the docks.
Overall, Liverpool wasn’t what I thought it would be, but it wasn’t as terrible as it could have been. It felt like there wasn’t much to do, I couldn’t understand anything in the scouse accent, and the rain was inescapable, but it was a nice place to visit. I only regret not visiting the slavery museum, and think I just needed to travel with someone who would truly appreciate the city since my bias against their football team.
My first road trip with friends was to Montreal for Labour Day Weekend, 2016. I had a good time and enjoyed being in the city, but I also learned a few things about traveling with a large group of friends on this trip.
Four of us started off in NYC and drove up to Westchester to pick up the rest of the squad. It was a pretty easy drive – practically straight up from New York to the border at Gatineau, and then an hour drive up through Quebec into Montreal.
We Airbnb’d this trip and was a bit apprehensive about it – because there were six of us sharing one space for a few days. That shouldn’t have been a concern of mine though, because we got along surprisingly well, and I think part of this came from how fantastic our Airbnb was. Our host Benoit was amazing, easy to get in touch with, easy to talk to, and always open to help us out. The place itself was great, too: in Longueuil, 2 beds, 1 bath, a nice living/dining area and a well-equipped kitchen. It was close to public transport and I would highly recommend it if you’re staying in Montreal for a few days and have a good group of friends you can live with.
On our first proper day we made a beeline for Tim Hortons, because it’s THE coffee of Canada. Timmys was all I knew (having grown up in Canada and spending a few years close to the Canadian-US border) and we got breakfast there nearly every morning. A short walk took us to the metro station, and an even shorter trip later, we were walking through Vieux Port. It was crowded as you’d expect on a weekend, but also because of a food festival going on near the waterfront.
I got to see firsthand what people refer to when they say that Montreal is North America’s most well-preserved French city. New Orleans is gorgeous in its own right (shameless plug for that post here) but it’s like a hybrid city – you see French influences, but when you’re in Montreal, you feel like you could be in a city in France itself (with a slightly different accent).
As an admirer of architecture, I got lost in the old city and kept wanting to stare at buildings with no significance for ages. Thankfully, being in a group prevented me from doing that. It was fairly easy to walk through the city-centre and Vieux Port, with enough time to stop and admire any little nuance that caught my eye. For lunch we stopped by a cafe for (what else?) poutine and were not disappointed ( – Hey, New York, please also make poutine a thing here).
I quite enjoyed the nightlife as well. The bars and clubs had the right mix of exclusivity while still remaining laidback. My favourite memory involved a bouncer telling my (male) friend that we weren’t allowed in because there was a private party at a club. The following is the exchange that took place:
Joe: Hi –
Bouncer: Sorry, this is a private party.
Wini (coming up from behind): Hi! Here’s my ID!
Bouncer: Sorry, private party. Not open.
Wini: What? Whyyyy? 😦
Bouncer: … fine, just go, go in – all of you.
The clubs/bars themselves varied, but the crowds made it enjoyable. I didn’t see any shitshows (maybe I just went on a good night), and the people actually danced and looked like they were enjoying themselves instead of just being there to be seen.
Overall the city was lovely to visit, and I think I would appreciate it if I’d stayed here longer and knew the people I was spending time with better. I love traveling with new friends or friends I’ve not traveled with before, but I think one of the drawbacks to it is that you don’t know what you’re in for, or what everyone’s preferences are. If I knew the crowd better, I think we’d have had a more enjoyable time there.
I love coffee. Anyone who knows me that I need it to function daily. No surprise, therefore, that I try to check out as many cafes as possible. Unfortunately that’s not going too well because I go back to the cafes that I love and don’t really check out new ones often.
I thought posting about the ones I’ve already been would serve as a motivator to explore the plethora of cafes in New York; I wanted to start with one of my absolute favourites – Caprices by Sophie.
Located in Williamsburg, the cafe is pretty darn adorable. Quaint, cute, small, and relaxed are the immediate vibes I get from Caprices; combined with the free wifi and delicious snacks, I’ll always make the trek from my corner in Queens to let out my inner pseudo-writer tendencies.
The baristas are very friendly and patient (because I can never decide what to order), and there’s a lovely backyard for the customers for sunny days. The bathroom is clean and spacious as well, but the whole point to this post is the coffee. They make a fantastic cortado (my go-to drink), but I keep coming back for the iced coffees. Not too acidic, rich and stout, but with just a hint of sweetness, I love pairing their iced coffees with eclairs or choux pastries.
Stepping in to this cafe is like finding refuge from the outside world. Once you’re in the cafe, nothing else matters (and it helps that it’s right by the train station so your trip to the cafe is a painless one).
I’ve been struggling with this post for quite a while because words fail me when I try to recount my short visit to the windy city on Memorial Day weekend, 2015. (The tl;dr version of this post: I absolutely love Chicago and would move to the city if I could find a stable source of income there.) This post will be more of a photographic journey of the trip since I’m struggling to explain what made me love Chicago so much. I’m hoping the photos can fill in the blanks.
We arrived in the city with the usual empire state of mind most New Yorkers are inclined to have (i.e. we hit the ground running), but also ready to explore and learn more about it. Given our different interests we knew we’d have a lot of ground to cover for the three days we’d be there; one of us is a foodie, another an architecture aficionado, and the other a history nerd.
While waiting for our hotel room to be prepared we walked around the waterfront by Lake Michigan and that’s where I learned that my desi genes weren’t enough to prevent sun burn. The two most astonishing things were that there were no rails preventing people from jumping into the water (I guess Chicagoans are chill enough to heed the “no swimming” sign), and the blueness of the water. It was a bright and sunny day, but we expected the water to still be a bit murky – not the crystal clear, blue, type-of-thing-you-expect-in-the-Maldives kind of water. We also got a quick bite to eat at Fulton Market, and tried out some maple bacon donuts. Dear New York, please hurry up and make maple bacon donuts a thing here. They are truly the most delicious thing ever created and we need them here in New York.
Fulton Market for hipster shenanigans.
Maple bacon doughnuts – New York needs to get in on this!
Walking through the Jay Pritzker Pavilion.
Flamingo.
The L, from the other side.
Take two.
That night we strolled along Magnificent Mile and ended up going to Navy Pier to see the Memorial Day fireworks. There were no railings here, either, to prevent people from falling in to the water and that scared me to no end because the crowd kept getting bigger. This was also where I fawned over the ferris wheel and the carousel (because they’re my first true love). Afterwards we tried to sneak into Millennium Park to get solo shots with the Bean. We failed, though, because an officer on a segway kept circling it and yelling at people to come back in the morning, so that’s exactly what we did.
The next day was a bit cloudy, drizzling and gloomy but we had to see the Bean before the rest of Chicago woke up. We needed photos and, most importantly, we needed to become the bean:
The Bean, before Chicago woke up.
One of my favourite things in the whole world.
After things opened and we got started with the day, we went on a walking history and architecture tour with a wonderful guide from Chicago Greeter. The tour helped us learn more about the city itself and its history. We also discovered Lou Malnati’s, which has arguably the best deep dish pizza around. Our New York slices are undoubtedly in their own league, but the Chicago deep dish is a whole different ball game. I’d recommend eating there at least once to give it a try.
Probably the best way to see the city was through the water architecture tour. We took a cruise down the river one afternoon with a guide explaining the architecture around the river. My favourite memory of the trip was my run through all the parks by Cloud Gate and Buckingham Fountain, out to Shedd Aquarium and back to the hotel.
I think what I especially loved was that it was a huge, friendly, historic city. It’s not Prague, or Berlin, or London, but Chicago’s got a rich, rapid history that makes me love it every time I think of it. Combined with the fact that they’ve got great food, excellent architecture and really friendly people, I don’t find it surprising that I think of it so fondly.
From the Gold Coast.
John Hancock Center; tip: best view from here is actually in the women’s restroom.
Lou Malnati’s.
Baha’i House of Worship in Wilmette, a short trip up from Chicago.
A few weeks ago I took a spur-of-the-moment weekend trip. Criteria: be close to New York, and perfect for a weekend getaway.
Anyone who knows me can attest to my need to plan; this trip, therefore, was everything I disliked based solely on principle. I immediately began thinking, “WHERE DO I GO?? AND ON SUCH SHORT NOTICE? WHAT????” With no clue as to where to go, I took to a wonderful travel resource for women: the Girls LOVE Travel group on Facebook. My friend recommended it to me and I’ve used it for every single travel question I’ve had because the ladies there have probably discussed it beforehand.
As always, they came through and offered wonderful suggestions (Hudson Valley, Montauk, Hoboken/Jersey City to name a few) but I settled on a place in Spring Lake on the Jersey Shore (not the place based on the reality TV show). I got surprisingly lucky with the weather and had a wonderful time during my trip and can’t wait to go back and visit during the warmer months!
It’s a wonderful little beach town, with the cutest bed and breakfasts. It’s a really quiet place so I was terrified of getting attacked by a serial killer; I listen to too many podcasts about murders and Alastor Moody’s “constant vigilance!” is practically engraved into my mind. Thankfully I wasn’t killed, and I can now recommend that everyone goes to visit Spring Lake!
The day actually started on Sunday because of an evening check in at the Hewitt Wellington Inn. Management left instructions on how to check in and the next morning they were very helpful in recommending things to do/see so I ditched the car and took a stroll through the town. It was practically deserted save for a few people here and there. The main road had a variety of shops – my favorite being Jean Louise Homemade Candy shop. People seemed to love fishing by the lakes, and the walk down Main Street curved round all the way down to the beach. It was a wonderfully pleasant January day, but I strongly believe that the little town comes alive during the summer months.
A bit clueless on what to do after, a trip to my alma mater, Rutgers New Brunswick, seemed like a good idea. Campus was gorgeous (in my extremely biased opinion) and I had to visit after so long! After walking around for a bit through campus, the stomach started getting restless – it was dinner time! The food at Shorefresh Seafood Marketplace and Restaurantdid NOT disappoint and and the portions were too large to finish. Somehow, though, I beat the food coma and got back to New York.
I would strongly recommend visiting Spring Lake at any season but especially during pleasant days because of its small town charm and proximity to the beach. It’s the perfect place to go for a weekend getaway, and it makes for a wonderfully romantic location as well!
The Hewitt Wellington Hotel in Spring Lake, New Jersey.
Backyard.
Pool access, too; but closed for the winter.
Seating room.
Walking by the beach.
Translation: Walking on the boardwalk because I don’t want to get sand in my shoes.
Not cake by the ocean, but close enough?
Trip to an old stomping ground.
Most of my time was spent in Hickman Hall, though. Still the same, utilitarian building.
I’d been sick of having so much stuff for a while but didn’t know what to do about it. Consumerism has taught me to always want things even if I didn’t need them; getting something because I want to, or like the look of it has almost been like second nature to me. The solution provided by minimalism, therefore, went against everything I’ve been conditioned to, but I reached the point of feeling overwhelmed and annoyed by all of my belongings so I decided to give it a try.I read up on minimalism extensively and watched countless vlogs on YouTube – literally videos of people explaining how they got rid of everything and started from scratch. The idea of only having things I loved sounded a bit scary to me (what if I wanted to keep things I liked? What if I wasn’t comfortable with how few things I suddenly had? Surely there’s room for leeway?) so I made up some rules before testing the waters.
I’d be going through my wardrobe at the beginning and end of every season to regularly get rid of things that I didn’t like/fell out of love with/didn’t fit my aesthetic/etc. This would help ensure that I was keeping track of what I owned and I could regularly remove items I didn’t like.
If I went shopping and saw something that I wanted to purchase, I’d need to get rid of two things currently in my closet. If I couldn’t find two items that the new purchase could replace, then I couldn’t justify buying it. This was mainly self-enforced so I didn’t go around buying things and defeating the purpose of minimalism.
Finally (and this gets down to the actual process of sorting through my things), I’d be categorising all my things into the following piles: Love, Like, Confused, Dislike, and Why??
Bearing the rules in mind, I took out all of my clothes and put them on my bed, then surveyed the disaster for a good few minutes. Procrastination almost got the better of me when I thought I could put off organising them into piles, but I couldn’t stand the mess so I started sorting them into piles. After everything had a category, I went back to scrutinise the Like and Confused piles again.
I hit the first hurdle really quickly, when I went to tackle my socks and underwear drawers. Did those items count? They’re staples. What do you do about them? Again, what if I actually throw out too many of them and don’t have enough? I ended up leaving that for the very end so I could approach it when I already had an understanding of how much stuff I’d keep.
I ended up with around 4 bags of clothes that I no longer wanted and took them to thrift shops. The items that weren’t accepted by the shops went straight to the donation bins (most shops have donation piles so they can donate them on your behalf).
Waiting in line at Buffalo Exchange
The first time I did it provided such a thrill because I felt like I was on my way to a life I wanted! However, it was SLOW progress and I hate that! So naturally I was frustrated because I live for instant results. For those of you like me, all I can say is to keep at it.
I initially reached a state of contentment when I had no more clothes that I wanted to get rid of. I know I wasn’t really following the rules by getting rid of things I didn’t want (when I’m only supposed to keep things I love), but I wasn’t ready to dive headfirst Ito minimalism only to discover that I don’t like it. Once the initial cleanup was done I felt like I had a better idea of what I’d be doing, so I went back to the sock and underwear drawers and got rid of anything old, worn out, or holey (mainly the socks – I’m weirdly sentimental with them).
Following the rules I gave myself, I went through all my stuff again in the middle of February. This time I noticed it was easier to find things I no longer wanted to keep and I even started to get rid of things that I liked. I finally understood the process of keeping only things that you love!
As we reach the end of winter here in New York, I’ve taken my growing restlessness with all my items as a sign that minimalism is for me, and that feeling annoyed by everything I own is just reason to keep at it. Starting slowly definitely helped me realise what kind of things I wanted to keep, and it helped me feel like I was in control of the process instead of doing something blindly just because everyone else was doing it as well. I would definitely recommend giving it a try if you feel discontent by having so many items in your life. From only targeting my closet, I’ve moved on to everything else too, to eliminate any unnecessary materialistic things from my life. I have not reached contentment from minimalism and need to keep at it, but it truly makes me happy to know that I’m gradually removing items that I don’t need so I can appreciate things that actually do matter.
Last year, Wini Lao, our friend Brittany, and I went to New Orleans to visit one of our best friends who lived in Mississippi. We never actually got to Mississippi, but our few days in NOLA were plenty eventful, and it was a great time because of the company.
We booked an AirBnb in Bayou St. John because it was a great bargain and, honestly, when we got to the place t was easy to see why. Before I forget I need to mention how fantastic the location was, though – really suburban and right by the water. Lots of restaurants and shops barely 10 minutes away and with the city about 20min away, Bayou St. John was a gem!
Here’s why the Airbnb wasn’t, though: our host wasn’t really there when we were, so we couldn’t get in touch with him. The other person to contact was ALSO out of the country so we had no idea how to tidy up and check out. It was poorly ventilated and with the southern humidity that meant I had a frizzy semi-afro for most of our trip. The most memorable part was our encounter with the insects. There were flies everywhere in the house, and just as we thought we’d killed them all, more kept popping up. Brittany was really good at the whole fly-swatting thing, and she eventually made it into some kind of game. We were defenseless against a bigger predator, though. One night we came back after a swell time in the French Quarter and were about to fall asleep when I saw something move on the wall. It was big, and it was a roach. 😱😱 I had a choice – pretend like I didn’t see it and just let everyone fall asleep and pray that it didn’t do anything, or tell everyone and raise hell. Of course I told the girls, partly because I love chaos and partly because I didn’t want it lurking in the dark with us sleeping blissfully. After they saw the cockroach, we collectively screamed bloody murder and made Dave (our friend from Mississippi) get out of the bathroom and kill the bug before he could, “take a good shit” (his words 😂). We were ready to check out early and find a hotel but thought that we could brave it for one more day (we were flying back to New York the next morning) so we stayed.
Corned gatesOn our first day, we learned that Ann Rice owns practically the whole city, and that Nicolas Cage and Sandra Bullock also call the Garden District home. The houses there are kind of magnificent not for their size but their architecture. They’re designed to let in maximum sunlight, and look like the only things that can stay cool in the humidity. We visited one of several above-ground cemeteries whilst at the District and found out that these cemeteries became popular because monsoon rains made it impossible to bury people underground. I really liked them firstly because it was nice to admire architecture in a cemetery beyond the tombstone, and secondly because I wasn’t accidentally stepping over someone’s grave. My upbringing taught me that stepping on someone’s grave is a sign of disrespect so I’m always tip-toeing and extra careful in cemeteries.
We made our way over to the French Quarter afterwards, where we found out quite a few things. Firstly, parades are a dime a dozen. There are at least two parades going on at any given time, and people will usually have no idea what they’re about. They are great if you like standing to the side and waving at people who are preventing you from walking down the street, or if you’re into the whole idea of having beads flung at you. Secondly, the main attractions in the Quarter basically comprise of bars and other touristy spots. The centre streets primarily target partygoers, and as you get further away you’ll notice more things to do and see. Further up north lies Louis Armstrong Park, and by the south you’ll see more restaurants and shops, and Jackson Square. Beyond Bourbon St., Jackson Square is probably the most touristy area around the French Quarter. There are flea markets around it, and street performers and artists who set up shop at every corner; there are also people who will try to scam you out of a quick $20. They’ll follow you around and say something like, “I bet you 20 bucks that I can tell you where your shoes are from,” and if you, like me, are silly enough to engage in conversation with them, they’ll try to tell you something like your shoes come from the earth. Then they’ll get really angry if/when you don’t give them money. Thankfully I either sounded or acted very dumb when conversing with my scammer so he left me alone and went to try and scam someone else.
Pro tip: when at the French Quarter, go straight to Frenchmen Street instead of Bourbon (any local will tell you the same, because that’s what they all told us). Put mildly, Bourbon Street is a shit show. Frenchmen Street has a bunch of jazz clubs where you can go to enjoy music, grab a drink, dance, and have an overall good time. Bourbon is just littered with too many bars with too many gimmicks and to many drunk people who don’t know any better. Still, it needs to be checked out so of course I would say to walk through Bourbon, but not spend all your time there.
I wasn’t too fond of the food there (maybe I got unlucky), but a few places really made the Quarter’s food scene worth it. Just off Jackson Square, Cafe du Monde usually has lines looping round he block. We didn’t wait in the line, thankfully, because we stopped by after a night out on Frenchman Street. I don’t think their beignets are spectacular but they’re pretty damn good with the mountain of sugar covering them. The Court of Two Sisters also had a great brunch option, and I finally got to try jambalaya! I was super excited because I’d heard great things about it but also didn’t have a clue as to what it was about. As Dave explained, “it’s like how desi people have biryani and [east Asia] has fried rice. The south has jambalaya,” and just like that, the concept of this dish made sense. The saving grace, in my opinion, was definitely Royal House. Everything we tried from their menu was fantastic and tasted great. I can’t find anything to critique about the food because we loved everything we had (we might’ve also been hangry before sitting down so there’s that potential bias).
Lafitte’s; the best place you’ll ever go to.Probably my favourite place in the whole city, though, was Lafittes Blacksmith Shop on the corner of Bourbon and St. Philip. Declared a national historic landmark in 1970, this is one place everyone has to check out when visiting NOLA. The highlight is the pianist who takes requests from patrons who want to sing along to their favourite songs. He’s got a swarm of people around him, many of whom just want to get their request in; the majority are just there to sing to whatever he’s got up next on his queue. Naturally, we requested the whole Lion King soundtrack and had the whole bar singing to “Can You Feel the Love Tonight.”
If you find yourself wandering around and need a place to sit/relax in the Quarter, head over to American Sports Saloon on Decatur and pull up a seat at the bar. Hopefully Jonathan will be working when you’re there, because he knows exactly what he’s doing and is great to talk with.
We also took a ghost tour of the French Quarter, but I’m not sure how much I would recommend it: a friend who’s from NOLA later told me that the people hosting the tours may just take you to a random, old house and make up a story on the spot.
Beyond the one-off with the Airbnb, we really had fun in New Orleans. It was a different kind of pace than I’m used to, and everything is sweeter; people are friendlier for sure and I finally tried jambalaya. I’d definitely recommend visiting NOLA but don’t think I’d settle down and set up shop there anytime soon, for the simple reason that I can experience the same humidity and influx of insects back in the motherland (Bangladesh).
Houses in the Garden District
Cemetery on a sunny day.
Beignets and coffee – my perfect late night snack.
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