Towns that were, or the language of stones

I was fortunate to be born and raised in a place of expansive landscapes and vast natural splendor but of few towns, most of them scattered around and isolated from one another in the middle of intricate mountains or sharp ravines, as if they didn't want to talk to each other, as though they valued privacy and confinement above anything else. Things are definitely changing and improving nowadays, with roads being built were only paths used to exist and tunnels being dug where no walkways could be found, with internet reaching astonishing depths and technology permeating the most unreachable places. However, for all the good that progress has brought, not everyone enjoyed its blessing, and there are those that, on the contrary, never had the chance to bloom under this new world, for they were long gone before development arrived at these shores. Of those (the departed, the vanished, the ghosts) I wanna talk here today, a few words and images that won't even begin to outline the shape of places that once were but eventually died, disappeared, faded away.

Morillo de Sampietro, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Silves Alto, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Morcat, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Despite living ten thousand kilometers away, the place where I lived until I came off age will always remain my home, for it was there where I learnt the most important lessons and where I probably suffered the most disheartening blows: the mountains of the central Pyrenean foothills, in Northern Spain, a land of rough beauty and exorbitant depopulation. Spain, still a very rural society until the halfway point of the twentieth century, started rapidly drifting towards the cities, and thousands of farmers and peasants around the country that had struggled to survive for generations in the hardness of the mountains decided to try their luck, looking for a new life in the booming metropolises, leaving everything behind them: their lands, their traditions, their memories, their loyal tools, their centenary homes.

Espierlo I, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Espierlo II, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Casa Juste (Morcat), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Pardina de Ballabriga, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Aperos, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

One of the areas of the whole country most strongly struck by these abandonment was precisely my region, that gradually lost hundreds of neighbors, slowly trimming down the already small hamlets until only a few inhabitants remained, silent and powerless against the tides of time. Entire villages populated by single families, communities reduced to single digits and one same blood that, painfully and unstoppably, would age, and wrinkle, and die with none else around to care for or remember them. Not even the priests stayed, for such impoverished parishes dwindled beyond repair, and only the plain churches and hermitages remained in place  against all odds once everyone else was gone, defying solitude and harsh weather, letting time eat away their former pride.

Iglesia de San Martín I (Espierlo), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Iglesia de San Martín II (Espierlo), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Iglesia de San Andrés (Torrolloala del Obico), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Ermita de San Bartolomé I (Silves Alto), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Ermita de San Bartolomé II (Silves Alto), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Iglesia de Santa María I (Morcat), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Iglesia de Santa María II (Morcat), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Walls began to crack and tremble, wounded to the core; roofs started to hesitate and surrender, suffering from loneliness; windows commenced to scream out loud only to fell into silence shortly after, while wooden beams rotted, chimneys collapsed, floors sunk, and all traces of past happiness were blown away by dust, undergrowth, decay, ruins.

Interior de la iglesia de San Andrés (Torrolloala del Obico), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Interior de la iglesia de Santa María (Morcat), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Interior de la ermita de San Bartolomé (Silves Alto), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Interior de la iglesia de Santa Eulalia (Silves Bajo), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Morcat desde la ventana de la torre, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Torre de la iglesia de Santa María (Morcat), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Ventana de la iglesia de Santa María (Morcat), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Cénit (Morcat), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

The sheer, steep hills, that had taken entire generations to tame in tiered terraces, were gradually engulfed  by vegetation; the vegetables stopped growing and the fruit trees withered; cattle was relocated to lower (concrete and sheet) grounds while wild, autochthonous fauna reclaimed their lost dwellings. Decades of effort and hard work merged back with nature and only the small shepherd's huts that lied spread out throughout the hills managed to survive somehow the erosion of oblivion and unemployment.

Borda en San Velián, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Borda en Pardina de Ballabriga, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Borda en Morcat, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Casas de Montalbán, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Borda en Espierlo, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Remnants that, despite their forgotten power, still speak today in low voices of yesteryears and tenacity, stones that dare to stay piled up, one on top of another, against the laws of time and gravity, while shapes loose their definition and become blurred, drifting inexorably towards nature. In this quiet chaos of destruction, however, some new inhabitants can be found, sometimes, populating the grounds that used to belong to their ancestor's masters, roaming freely through the rubble, bringing the circle to a likely end.

Caballos en Silves Bajo I, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Caballos en Silves Bajo II, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Caballos en Silves Bajo III, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm 

Caballos en Silves Bajo IV, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

It's a sad story, a tale of upbringing and departure, of loose ends, dreams and regrets, but not all hope is lost: here and there, across the precipitous cliffs and mountains, some humble signs of survival and even recovery can be spotted: a house that has managed to stay standing despite emptiness, a building that received occasional visits throughout the years and stayed healthy, a ghost village that has regained a new living neighbor, willing to revert the flow of extinction. These are, in my book, sincere reasons to be hopeful. Surely the smoke is still lukewarm upon venturing itself out of the big chimneys, but perhaps the smallest hunch of fire will in turn lead to a new, despite timid, awakening.

Mesón de Fuebla, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Casa Rufas (Silves Alto), GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Casa en Morillo de Sampietro, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Borda en Morillo de Sampietro, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Banderas de fiesta, GX80 + Panasonic Leica 15mm

Bang Kachao: the lung of Bangkok

The day started with a bang: a terrific breakfast at a friends' house. We had delayed that meeting for a while and today we finally cleared all our appointments and met at their place at 8:00 am. Their table was already set and appetizing when I arrived, offering all sorts of fruits, bakery, juices and coffee. We ate and talked at the table for a couple of hours, enjoying our postponed chit-chat, but eventually it was time to move on and continue a day that promised to be photographically intense, as I was about to visit an area of Bangkok that I had heard a lot about but I had never had the chance to visit yet. But as I left their condo and I walked down the street, looking for a taxi, I caught a glimpse of a busy market in an adjacent soi and, obviously, my photo-journey started a bit earlier than expected. Welcoming detours as always!

The brightest flower in the bunch I, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

The brightest flower in the bunch II, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Markets are ubiquitous in Bangkok; big or small, crowded or quiet, cleaner or dirtier, early-rising or vespertine, they all have something in common: they are always diverse and surprising, colorful, suggestive, photogenic. It doesn't matter if you pass by in a hurry or wander around the wet, smelly aisles for hours, odds are high that you will grab a few nice pictures. This time I spent about half an hour strolling in and out of the shaded area of the market, letting my camera make a few friends, until I decided to move on.

Atrezzo, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

In & Out I, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

In & Out II, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm 

In & Out III, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

15 taxi-minutes later, I was at Khlong Toei Pier. After taking a precarious boat to cross the mighty Chao Phraya river, I finally reached my intended destination: Bang Kachao pier,  in Phra Pradaeng peninsula. Surrounded by a long meander of the river and linked with the mainland by a distant stretch to the West, Bang Kachao is a somehow hidden expanse of green land in the heart of Bangkok. It's surprising how undeveloped and wild this big area has remained despite Bangkok's rapid growth in the last decades; signs of construction can already be seen in some parts of it, but even today, Bang Kachao truly remains a small oasis of rural Thailand mere minutes from the city center.

Lady with umbrella I, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm 

Lady with umbrella II, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Expect narrow roads and small moobans (villages in Thai language), farmers plowing the fields and wild jungle patches, wooden huts, fishing villages and street markets. But you will also find guesthouses and coffee shops here and there, scattered along the single road, as the place is slowly becoming a popular tourist destination, specially appealing for those looking to scape the noise of the city without traveling too far, and also for the bicycle lovers, as the area is quite traffic-free and vast enough to let cyclists enjoy kilometers of quiet asphalt and ground.

Sunny day I, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Sunny day II, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Don't worry, as soon as you cross the river the first thing you will notice in the pier is, precisely, a bicycle rental shop. Bicycles are quite old and rudimentary (as are the prices, by the way), but all the area is completely flat, so they are more than enough to enjoy a nice day exercising the legs and the eyes. The fact that Bang Kachao is part of a peninsula on the other side of the river makes it quite isolated from the city, which means that you will not see the skyscrapers nor other traces of the urban metropolis from here: the vegetation is thick enough to erase any presence of Bangkok's skyline; you will really feel as if you have left the city well behind you.

Water caprice I, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Water caprice II, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

There is a popular landmark in Bang Kachao, and that is Sri Nakhon Khuean Khan Park. However, the second detour of the day was about to happen, this time a much longer and unexpected one, therefore the park had to wait for a couple of hours more: I spotted a small garden on one side of the road, so I guided my bicycle there, curious to see what it was. It turned out it was a small fishing gallery which contained a camping area in one corner and it was bordered by Chao Phraya river at the end. There was literally nobody around it (Saturday afternoon with a merciless sun above) which seemed to indicate the place might not be of much interest, but maybe it was precisely this abandonment that attracted me. Whatever the reason, I parked my bike at the entrance and walked inside.

Long time parked, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Silent intruder, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

The garden itself consisted only of a little pond with a bridge and a pier for pedal boats, a winding cement alleyway over a small canal, and a main, gravel road under the arched canopy of big, aligned trees. Cozy but average. Nevertheless, I kept on walking ahead, unsure of where exactly that was leading. There were no fences or gates whatsoever blocking the way, so I continued my walk until I reached a dead end: the river. Only now I could see the distant monsters of the city and remember that I was still in Bangkok, after all. But it was just momentarily, for I was about to live one of the most bizarre experiences I have encountered in this city so far, camera in hand.

Deserted watchtower, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

The light is off, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Stairs to an unknown world, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

I backtracked a bit, trying to resume my walk, when I suddenly saw what looked like a big, wooden boat, moored on the border of a small pond. Seconds later, as I walked in that direction, the trees cleared and I realized the boat was connected to a Thai style house that was standing on top of columns in the same pond. A few steps further the small pavilion revealed to be escorted by a perfectly blue swimming pool. Finally, a bigger building took shape behind and it all made sense, all of a sudden: obviously, that was a resort, but I had no idea how I had ended up there and how to leave, for I had seen no signs or indications at all on my way there.

Framed boat, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Thai styles, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Island suite, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

It was indeed a bizarre feeling, walking through a luxurious resort that was, apparently, completely abandoned. I could spot no signs of human presence around me, nor cars or other vehicles, either parked or moving; there were no lights on or doors open. It was all still, quiet, silent. Frozen at 33 degrees. Yet, and this was the most weird thing of all, everything seemed clean and ready, perfectly arranged and maintained to receive the guests at any moment. It was like walking through an amusement park where suddenly everybody had vanished while the attractions were still spinning and the fountains spitting water. That place was alive, yet there was nobody visible. It was just me, and it.

Symmetries, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Hot both sides of the glass, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Searching for light, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Ghost recess, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm 

I slowly walked through the empty galleries and passed by the transparent pools, I saw the tidy bars and admired the lush plants and flowers, cautiously trying to find the way out of that captivating yet creepy place. Maybe an invisible volcano had burnt that resort to ashes and had preserved it in its pristine state but devoid of all human life. Maybe everyone had turned into ghosts by a mysterious curse and were now looking at me with vacant, stareless eyes. I felt uneasy and thrilled with equal measure, but we are humans, after all, and curiosity is always stronger than fear. So I continued for a while, touching nothing, just walking past in the most discreet, unnoticed manner.

The gap, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm 

Music, rest, and water, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Concealed music, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Phantom staircase, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

A cozy corner, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

And then all my suspicions came to life right at the end, when I finally found the magic gate that would return me to our usual human world; disguised between some tree trunks, a hedge and a water pit, there was a gap. I crossed to the other side and then, big and clear, I saw the resort's entrance from outside, totally locked, threatening in its retirement. Wondering no more how all that had happened and what was the meaning of it, I walked away at a faster pace, as if the air around me was less dense now and my body less self-aware of its movements and sounds. In a question of minutes, I was back by my rusty bike's side, relieved. And hungry. Time for lunch and a very cool drink, then!

The way out, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm 

Small maze, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Once my stomach was full, I was ready to go to the place I was supposed to visit all along, the park. It was actually later than I had imagined, sunset was fast approaching, so it was the perfect time to end my journey with a ride along the park paths. Sri Nakhon Khuean Khan Park is very vast and during the weekend, as I soon discovered, quite busy with couples, families, cyclists and photo groups. It is not as well maintained as other parks in the city are, maybe due to its isolation and size, though it is signaled and kept well enough, and its relative wilderness gives it a touch that none of the other urban parks possess, thus making it somehow different and special, in sync with the whole peninsula.

Distant bridge, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

The tiny peninsula, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

Shelter for the unrepentant walkers, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm

And that's how I concluded my long, eventful day. A day I will not forget easily, if at all!

A scene in the park, GH3 + Lumix G X Vario 35-100mm