Ngati Ranana ... a Christmas Concert, London

Saturday I was up and out early, wandering off across the city of London to photograph the family of an old friend ...

Clare had sent me an almost perfect set of directions for making my way from the Underground to their place and ... with just a little help from strangers, I arrived.

I spent two hours attempting to capture the essence of this really special family whose wedding I had photographed 4 years before.  It's another 'favourite' kind of photography.  Family portraits.

We talked, caught up, I got to spend time with their small, soon-to-be-bigger, family, and then I was off again, heading for Oxford Street ... into the thick of the pre-Christmas madness.  Ngati Ranana, the London-based Maori Group, were performing their Christmas concert.

I'm so glad I made the effort.  I arrived hungry and kind of exhausted but was immediately inspired to pick up my camera and get serious.  I moved between the ground floor and the first floor at venue, trying to find the best angles without getting in the way of the audience.

They finished performing around 5pm and as I arrived back in the world of conscious thought, I realised i was completely destroyed. Saturday night was spent at home, in pyjamas, with a bottle of red wine and a laptop full of photographs that needed post-processing.

Here are some of the Ngati Ranana photographs.


Wandering Lost ... and having a lovely time, London

It was one of those deep-blue sky mornings here in London today.

I packed up my camera and headed into the city, out on a mission to explore a little.  I'm getting there but so slowly.

It was a quietly exquisite day, one where I was mostly unsure of where I was but one where I learned that you're never really lost for long in London ... there's always another Underground station, and it's relatively simple to find your way home in the end.

I had lunch at a restaurant called Spaghetti House.  An older gentlemen smiled as me as I arrived and I decided that all restaurants should have lovely older gentlemen, in that front table, who smile as though you're some old friend returning.

The staff speak in Italian, as did so many of their customers, and the food and wine were just what I needed.  And I have finally learned to say no to extras, like water and bread, in London ... to just have my dish and a small glass of wine, not the large glass.  And an espresso to finish is fine, grazie.

Italian is spoken all around me out there in the city and so, while I'm so tempted to move to Genova and try a life there,  Im not completely cut off from that culture I love.

It was a day of wonderment, amusement, and quiet bemusement.  There's a story I would love to tell but, to be honest, it would need so much wine for me to even speak of the incident.  No doubt, friends will hear of it over time, perhaps. 

It's enough to know that, on hearing it, Lenn laughed and said, 'You have to stop with the drugs, Di'.  

My excuse is that I had just taken the series of shots of the fountain, at the start of this post, and was still kind of lost in that world of light and movement.

There's more, there's always more, but this is enough for tonight.  It's late and I'm tired.  I'll leave you with a photograph of the landmark I use to find my way 'home'.  I always do this thing.  In Genova, it's Porta Soprana that guides me into my street whenever I'm there.  In London, it's the apartment building in the photograph that follows.

I looked up as I walked past it this morning and couldn't resist attempting a shot of it soaring into the blue.

Microguagua - street power Reggae!

These guys. 

I was in awe of the high-energy, joy-filled street performance of the Reggae band called Microguagua.

I bought one of their cds because I wanted their music back in Belgium. 

They're brilliant.  Seeing them perform live made me smile.  Perhaps I caught a sense of them here but honestly, their music makes you smile.

I found them out in Via San Lorenzo, in Genova.  I had to stop for some photographs.

Getting Ready To Return To Genova.

There is something truly delicious about lying in bed here in Genova, listening as the street comes alive, my windows open behind shutters closed for privacy  ...

I hear the first footsteps ... quiet voices followed by louder voices as people roll up the metal doors of their workplace.  The clank of the coffee cups hitting saucers begins soon after.

I doze a while longer then wake again, this time to the laughter of men at the cafe below.  I imagine them stopping for an espresso as they head off to work ... friends who meet everyday on their way ... and I envy them their routine for a moment.

There's music but I nap just a little longer ... until it becomes impossible to ignore my craving for one perfect crema brioche with an espresso.  I pull on my clothes and head out, almost into a neighbour.  She laughs and apologises in Italian.  I reply in French for some early-morning-not-quite-awake-reason.

I don't speak French.
The Bonjour feels strange in my mouth and I only recover when I find her holding the street door open for me.  And I say, Grazie, and smile, located in place and time.

I have some days without shape or form ahead of me.  Days where I can organise the creative chaos that is a part of my everyday life.  I have been waiting so long to reach this place of peace and isolation, located in the midst of the everyday noise of the beloved ancient city.

Here, back in Genova, I'm always a little off-balance and some days shyness will find me more easily.   But it is so very good to be back here again  ... good to be writing again.