tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50269256849937370582024-02-06T22:16:31.866-08:00Fading Into the BlueFollow the story of a young documentary as he travels the South Pacific studying sustainable fisheries and subsistence fishing cultures.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-69034818200666138552009-05-21T19:47:00.001-07:002009-05-21T19:48:24.910-07:00Palafitos Panorama<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8mSrP6R8AsWjluqbp2QUZs9-sQp95LACnNyssD_plUCVdwryEJiWI17qhNyXfVIgfOIKYZ3qmWbXIb6JQa_gMsLfas_U7x-56VWSrk02W-fBMrSH64jJeyx0stQg2nEb-ieAsaiAv4VI/s1600-h/PalafitoLandscape.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 111px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8mSrP6R8AsWjluqbp2QUZs9-sQp95LACnNyssD_plUCVdwryEJiWI17qhNyXfVIgfOIKYZ3qmWbXIb6JQa_gMsLfas_U7x-56VWSrk02W-fBMrSH64jJeyx0stQg2nEb-ieAsaiAv4VI/s400/PalafitoLandscape.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338474633907782226" border="0" /></a>Palafitos en Chiloe<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-68154251431047506872009-05-16T07:33:00.000-07:002009-05-16T08:42:29.131-07:00Dos Meses en ChileThe rain is falling swiftly on the corrugated metal rooftops. Smoke billows from dozens of miniature smokestacks. Muddy fishermen and seagulls huddle in the mist along the waters edge hoping for a meal. And I hunch over my camera, an umbrella in one hand and the focus in the other. I'm on an island called Chiloe over 1200 kms south of Vina del Mar (my home in Chile) filming one of the most unique places I have ever laid eyes upon. The island of Chiloe (the largest island in South American north of Tierra del Fuego) sits close off the Pacific coast, perhaps a 30 minute ferry ride from the mainland. It's an island of rolling green pastures, misty clouds, old farmhouses, over 150 wooden churches, and palafitos (houses built upon stilts upon the waters edge). Chiloe is famous for its multicolored palafitos which sit high above the inlets to avoid the extreme tide changes. Here fishing is less of a job than it is a lifestyle for many Chiloeans. No matter where you look, you can find dozens and dozens of fishing boats marooned high up on muddy banks. Admist milky colored water and drab gray clouds, the colorful houses, boats, and people stand out.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8w38AyjkVy0Rx3NoGZxWW0TQEUgNqMzYa_2mRpW_10By9jM9Da-UyRF_SGsqjdPnjVC738b8D4F82lew2ZazNhlUkEMzIcnAEcFDYNiY00KgqAkdtEiXy3IEafiuxBZFDkYMWIYgcXjg/s1600-h/DPP_15013.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8w38AyjkVy0Rx3NoGZxWW0TQEUgNqMzYa_2mRpW_10By9jM9Da-UyRF_SGsqjdPnjVC738b8D4F82lew2ZazNhlUkEMzIcnAEcFDYNiY00KgqAkdtEiXy3IEafiuxBZFDkYMWIYgcXjg/s400/DPP_15013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336439826138178594" border="0" /></a>Chiloean Palafito<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-t63ZhI4qODJIMZyokHd29i6Qp0TEFAjl0pUT_R7WqsyRBMhJZyRy-AGJMGYsL_kOMmJ7bFEuUSjrpM6MOgpYmrJVO1klLjeeqMj8TaKW-y70WkvYC_KvG0mFYrB-Dc-M2USBzszptWw/s1600-h/IMG_0192.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-t63ZhI4qODJIMZyokHd29i6Qp0TEFAjl0pUT_R7WqsyRBMhJZyRy-AGJMGYsL_kOMmJ7bFEuUSjrpM6MOgpYmrJVO1klLjeeqMj8TaKW-y70WkvYC_KvG0mFYrB-Dc-M2USBzszptWw/s400/IMG_0192.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336439611998928898" border="0" /></a><br />Lago Llanquihue Boats<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>For the past two days I've been filming wherever I can and whenever it's not raining (which has turned out to be very difficult). And when it doesn't stop raining, I film anyways. Mud and water has become a part of my existence since I left Vina del Mar last week. My shoes, pants, and backpack have all become the same color and I'm hoping my family will recognize me when I get home. At this time of the year it seems that South Pacific storms are at full force, at least for the little island of Chiloe. Two days before I was a few hours north of Chiloe (on the mainland) in a town called Puerto Varas. Sitting on the edge of the 2nd largest lake in Chile (Llanquihue), Puerto Varas has a commanding view of the most impressive volcano I have ever seen (Osorno). It looks something akin to Mt. Fuji in Japan. Puerto Varas is also close to the largest salmon farm operations in Chile. Unfortunately at this moment, Chile's salmon farms are battered by disease and many have shut down for the time being or even closed up. But as I traveled around the lake I could still see the farms floating alongside the coast. I also recognized the distinct German influence in the area (germans colonized the south about a hundred years ago). German flags flew from classic Alps-like houses and you could be guaranteed of finding Kuchen (a German pastry on every corner). In a few days I will head north to return home to Vina del Mar. But my few days in the south have shown me what a diverse land Chile is. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj7Fqpj7f0MxHUggdKSK21n-1q3lhStdDw6-nmuGXJogRyMAVps83y72vji7P4JvAEWgeQTaqs0Gv446N1gpJv6EwxExlE9SR6iqnLliZ_SMnDdC1HhmmZL8WMinR3NDcPgaQeEitD0MY/s1600-h/IMG_0187.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj7Fqpj7f0MxHUggdKSK21n-1q3lhStdDw6-nmuGXJogRyMAVps83y72vji7P4JvAEWgeQTaqs0Gv446N1gpJv6EwxExlE9SR6iqnLliZ_SMnDdC1HhmmZL8WMinR3NDcPgaQeEitD0MY/s400/IMG_0187.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336439386337888514" border="0" /></a>Volcano Osorno<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEkx1RaJ-1-_BAPZbpHeJJeNty7XesSkshrr7hvFXtwHVWSO3q5Qv9-LkICdspRNhwiQhnVID0Dg0BRNdf_ciiHx2TqZeYcqr4WNkOnrktiTez8I-Dlc9y2tyj8mEr-MiMVjg8yJvTWbQ/s1600-h/IMG_0169.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEkx1RaJ-1-_BAPZbpHeJJeNty7XesSkshrr7hvFXtwHVWSO3q5Qv9-LkICdspRNhwiQhnVID0Dg0BRNdf_ciiHx2TqZeYcqr4WNkOnrktiTez8I-Dlc9y2tyj8mEr-MiMVjg8yJvTWbQ/s400/IMG_0169.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336439028447222162" border="0" /></a>Smog Over Santiago<br /></div><br />Looking back on the last month I've begun to get a feel for the rhythm of Chile. Everyday I walk out of my home on a winding cobblestone street overlooking Vina del Mar. Dogs fight for scraps of food, old woman with faces two hundred years old stagger up the steep hills, and if you’re not careful you can find yourself tripping over the uneven stones or getting run over by a bus or taxi. During the day you can watch the mist disappear to reveal inexorably tall Andean mountains and cacti in the distance. When walking the streets of Vina your senses are bombarded by hundreds of smells and sounds. Street vendors dressed in running gear jump aboard moving buses to sell the insides of coconuts, popcorn, candy, and chocolate. Blind beggars sit in the shade banging tin cups for money. Collectivos (inexpensive taxis) dart in and out of traffic with suprising speed. All different sorts of breads and meats are cooked and sold along the sidewalk. The fruit and vegetable markets are abuzz with activity at all times of the day. And at night boys play soccer for hours in old clothes and on muddy fields with the lights of the city illuminating the game. Such is the life in a bustling South American port town. At times its been difficult for me to communicate and I find myself out of my element in the big city. But the happiness of the people I have met is what keeps me warm and makes me love this place. Walk into a store anywhere and you will be greeted with a huge smile. Speak spanish to someone and they'll almost give you a hug. When I am with my new family, they care for me as one of their own. Many times we swap jokes until the early hours of the morning. And while, like in Samoa, I am clearly a visitor, the Chileans go out of their way to make me comfortable, happy, and accepted.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-59823581944589355392009-04-14T19:17:00.000-07:002009-04-14T19:23:26.918-07:00Trailer #2Here is the the latest trailer to my upcoming documentary. Hope you enjoy!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-20500754385430008072009-04-08T11:25:00.001-07:002009-04-08T12:09:37.889-07:00Bienvenidos a Chile<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWJgNqaNxNuC37GfV6yURevrgfCEZGyD5ut3U2K2jlbifVis81WvbVLWlP_zR69m3VFsZFeySQZF9rXgi3O6kAtxrh1qi75Ej1SdCXzXgVP8mi_efPQq0-bieSlZSUpGLlyDitNesxVM/s1600-h/zapallar-boats.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWJgNqaNxNuC37GfV6yURevrgfCEZGyD5ut3U2K2jlbifVis81WvbVLWlP_zR69m3VFsZFeySQZF9rXgi3O6kAtxrh1qi75Ej1SdCXzXgVP8mi_efPQq0-bieSlZSUpGLlyDitNesxVM/s400/zapallar-boats.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322390477083412146" border="0" /></a>Fishing Fleet in Zapallar<br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIdy2Fcxh1Yu15OhwfnY7xvDgt96lLAj2kos3UTDNNPJ4dCp36-Tnzw-X1l0tdPhmNWixa1-lnUOswpguINeOU0LaGydl2jEMrgLw5HHTCW_0gli5V1PYJQYU-5hqatbncgBTZqi2DeY/s1600-h/SantaInez.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIdy2Fcxh1Yu15OhwfnY7xvDgt96lLAj2kos3UTDNNPJ4dCp36-Tnzw-X1l0tdPhmNWixa1-lnUOswpguINeOU0LaGydl2jEMrgLw5HHTCW_0gli5V1PYJQYU-5hqatbncgBTZqi2DeY/s400/SantaInez.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322390463365382498" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Santa Inez (my home)<br /><br /></div>Three weeks have passed rather quickly since I arrived to Chile. I've spent a lot of time adjusting to the new culture, practicing my spanish, and filming at the markets, ports, and cultural attractions around Vina del Mar and Valparaiso. At first it was hard to communicate, being that I hadn't practiced any spanish in over two years. But I quickly got up to speed, mostly because few people if any speak english. I ended up spending my first day in Chile down in the filming trenches (so to speak), shooting footage at the Valparaiso fish market. Here fishermen wake up early, around 3 am, jump into their tiny yellow boats and brave the cold foggy waters of the South Pacific. By about eight in the morning they have landed enough fish to sell for the day, having to avoid the large oil and cargo tankers that begin to appear around this time. Using a winch on the end of an old pier, the boats are pulled one by one out of the water. The fishermen then line their boats up in order and begin hawking their catch.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnL4rX9PcN0QE4WLO3239VXQsLelfx4_tpVpDDebZyLIhE5llB2OerMcF2-xLizjtIF67tdLc2x2_yyst7XkWhN5xx3XNFrkZGnOXJtxxcoZ8OPf3D3mnzW7MAXYSPXMK3F4i_ZQ4D5ns/s1600-h/boatsinline.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnL4rX9PcN0QE4WLO3239VXQsLelfx4_tpVpDDebZyLIhE5llB2OerMcF2-xLizjtIF67tdLc2x2_yyst7XkWhN5xx3XNFrkZGnOXJtxxcoZ8OPf3D3mnzW7MAXYSPXMK3F4i_ZQ4D5ns/s400/boatsinline.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322388851903971250" border="0" /></a>Tradition Chilean Fishing Vessels<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-2BP6HjKim4IL67_lY9zEOmXIjBINjsySwScXByzuRo8dr7q7f_uJIPtZXig2auGMIqw_ir0sCXP9u-AhqES4RdgCm0_UKYaKCa_Xh9hVikSrrz_tEXKMKqHuJBUtaubGI9XOlpOW-lw/s1600-h/fish.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-2BP6HjKim4IL67_lY9zEOmXIjBINjsySwScXByzuRo8dr7q7f_uJIPtZXig2auGMIqw_ir0sCXP9u-AhqES4RdgCm0_UKYaKCa_Xh9hVikSrrz_tEXKMKqHuJBUtaubGI9XOlpOW-lw/s400/fish.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322389822377994066" border="0" /></a>The Morning's First Catch<br /></div><br />By 9 the market is abuzz with activity. Locals buying fish, fishermen yelling, and workers untangling lines. Dogs run excitedly back and forth between the shellfish stands and the boats and the sea lions clutter the beach barking madly for a meal. For my first day in Chile it was quite an adventure.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7aYm2Qj5Q7DCf-6Afzotex9a9k47Wdm-KuMiZTywGLZmWo5zZHLOG0fWjgrKrf1Utq6hLnoJTYpWhbDzog6ziZfwCvnWOJavjDNoCkMu0BRFfn6kYnbngpHW80olTJMRnKMlG6RZmHU/s1600-h/people.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7aYm2Qj5Q7DCf-6Afzotex9a9k47Wdm-KuMiZTywGLZmWo5zZHLOG0fWjgrKrf1Utq6hLnoJTYpWhbDzog6ziZfwCvnWOJavjDNoCkMu0BRFfn6kYnbngpHW80olTJMRnKMlG6RZmHU/s400/people.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322390464139166674" border="0" /></a>Hombres at Work<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWeKCK5MqSXpRLpcubFzfXShrrXKk_hsnzn4wvxuuVbcyhaddiHpFgquSKF3GcaMPzFjuUnp6nPUgvATMoE2ENHenvM0z0pwK7wCHb-9sChJ3Jd1T4wnMnYvwPjyUN7nWFU7hXCLayOwg/s1600-h/yellowman.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWeKCK5MqSXpRLpcubFzfXShrrXKk_hsnzn4wvxuuVbcyhaddiHpFgquSKF3GcaMPzFjuUnp6nPUgvATMoE2ENHenvM0z0pwK7wCHb-9sChJ3Jd1T4wnMnYvwPjyUN7nWFU7hXCLayOwg/s400/yellowman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322390474553495842" border="0" /></a>El Jefe<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwn6N2wLCwFTQRb6YEPwtn48YrKmqTMy_hyRpRPlo4hyWenpVvuFhGyd1-t-0ELFD9G1tYDsXvv7R8dWjroSOJGUXR-01MZALTbAl7F2_eUf1lLmBlnkqcF6TmNaeAB7Ka5bNh561oCEE/s1600-h/women.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwn6N2wLCwFTQRb6YEPwtn48YrKmqTMy_hyRpRPlo4hyWenpVvuFhGyd1-t-0ELFD9G1tYDsXvv7R8dWjroSOJGUXR-01MZALTbAl7F2_eUf1lLmBlnkqcF6TmNaeAB7Ka5bNh561oCEE/s400/women.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322390470383345090" border="0" /></a>Woman at Work<br /></div><br />I was stunned to find out during one interview that generally speaking most fishermen make around $150 US per month. That's right. Not $150 a day or $150 a week but $150 in a month. This particular fisherman told me honestly that's its nearly impossible these days to make money as an individual fisherman. There is so much competition with foreign Spanish and Japanese trawlers and such a lack of large fish that the industry is nearly sunk. Through missing teeth and sunburnt lips he told me that most of his food comes from whatever is leftover at the market. It was an enlightening but sad first encounter in Chile.<br /><br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhukNSZ7xFmrD93peNr39hbt8WcLPA2JyZumdjur1g7W-u5SO65p0fS-sVnpRgcd3eytuQrEfcN15iLGeqNI2lxvK6cHT4dgQe6_H6tDqX_RvITnECCGxCDVPhxR5rB9FPEkVsWKzmqnWM/s1600-h/market.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhukNSZ7xFmrD93peNr39hbt8WcLPA2JyZumdjur1g7W-u5SO65p0fS-sVnpRgcd3eytuQrEfcN15iLGeqNI2lxvK6cHT4dgQe6_H6tDqX_RvITnECCGxCDVPhxR5rB9FPEkVsWKzmqnWM/s400/market.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322389838841590962" border="0" /></a><br />The Market<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3TKtTIVarrkKmlSxcKdJehFWHOh-WBC-KBUCrbcUcpE3xB6lLUuqSJ6AORbWi-Oh_2JOwow-Whyp_X4HSlBe2rbyQD2GVeoLBNl5qkAy8MoJ_RCwwdC8Cv0pCPtQ4SJVO6IBtU9WyXM/s1600-h/macha.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3TKtTIVarrkKmlSxcKdJehFWHOh-WBC-KBUCrbcUcpE3xB6lLUuqSJ6AORbWi-Oh_2JOwow-Whyp_X4HSlBe2rbyQD2GVeoLBNl5qkAy8MoJ_RCwwdC8Cv0pCPtQ4SJVO6IBtU9WyXM/s400/macha.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322389830715389106" border="0" /></a>Shellfish Specialty<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid7gq_BiuqIw5ZXvKb2DOFOtJ4GErnj_eymVugk8W80FeoHuwKVrj8_6OA0nrIExDG04afRVXoEU5OSlW8atRIH0PfFgCsBm1cnr8o9Sn663ZW4YBiwlJ8wpuGC0q5t4Z84JP2agxFDmw/s1600-h/lapaila.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid7gq_BiuqIw5ZXvKb2DOFOtJ4GErnj_eymVugk8W80FeoHuwKVrj8_6OA0nrIExDG04afRVXoEU5OSlW8atRIH0PfFgCsBm1cnr8o9Sn663ZW4YBiwlJ8wpuGC0q5t4Z84JP2agxFDmw/s400/lapaila.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322389832626940210" border="0" /></a>Old Boat in Zapallar<br /></div><br />I'm glad to say though that although it was sad to hear this one fisherman's story, Chile is alive with friendly people and a willingness to share their culture. Three weeks have passed and I've been invited to homes, barbeques, soccer games, and car races. The family I live with are perhaps the most hospitable, kind people on the planet. They continue to astound me everyday with their selfless and caring ways. They've taken me all over this region of Chile from the dunes and coves to the north to the vineyards to the east. I've gotten a chance to glimpse the great Andean cordillera which I hope to visit sometime soon. I've even walked with crazy winding streets of Valparaiso with its hundred year old ascensores (hillside elevators) and angular houses and I've ridden the convenient but incredibly fast micros (buses). Of all the peoples I have met on my journey so far, I'd have to say that the Chileans have already made me feel more comfortable and accepted than anywhere else. Each day my eyes are opened by how little they have but how much they give. <br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE05SdN6zryX9TuCxqG7OuapK256qhwT-HkeOt5m4L6LenipOCAi6je6XL3_iFBYrz-kNIM7guW1M98o0OtSDfRFjOQK5XFZ4yijLVSxSPOEZCTRC3u0f07dw9cmgava_Bkr2fnnMh8EU/s1600-h/grapes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE05SdN6zryX9TuCxqG7OuapK256qhwT-HkeOt5m4L6LenipOCAi6je6XL3_iFBYrz-kNIM7guW1M98o0OtSDfRFjOQK5XFZ4yijLVSxSPOEZCTRC3u0f07dw9cmgava_Bkr2fnnMh8EU/s400/grapes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322389827546193730" border="0" /></a>Tasty Looking Grapes<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-58447577206974900962009-03-27T19:56:00.000-07:002009-03-27T21:02:09.519-07:00Samoa Comes to an End<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjTIOaikfkapbcFcCUDHtpP3ghnw8_G4wVAos6sUgte-o2lJnvsbEup0w9Ndcfx7emceUOZUr5t2eE24H8vpdj0tkosDloqA3sKCDNtRob_lcAcmntnTnTHJ7Rm7yTzDPPcU9ZGI4PTg/s1600-h/IMG_8143.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjTIOaikfkapbcFcCUDHtpP3ghnw8_G4wVAos6sUgte-o2lJnvsbEup0w9Ndcfx7emceUOZUr5t2eE24H8vpdj0tkosDloqA3sKCDNtRob_lcAcmntnTnTHJ7Rm7yTzDPPcU9ZGI4PTg/s400/IMG_8143.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318083490200699538" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCGnh8Ap01Q717xqWLFxLsUS9NEpzmw8-iKq0vVD5EPzGQID9U1E4hw3XWO1gEKHLB9ZToQkpPjs6PKpBZaX5RiNeCMtu3_z5GPg4_dqTCAcW_amLGx2xazU_48A5mCdaqA-5xvgrH58/s1600-h/firefoot.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCGnh8Ap01Q717xqWLFxLsUS9NEpzmw8-iKq0vVD5EPzGQID9U1E4hw3XWO1gEKHLB9ZToQkpPjs6PKpBZaX5RiNeCMtu3_z5GPg4_dqTCAcW_amLGx2xazU_48A5mCdaqA-5xvgrH58/s400/firefoot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318083489685144994" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaI_rbKQtlpaJ1UMzXuC-_XHtNtx_ojDynEmbGxRn_IcM_uSuG-rqdxFmk6MER0ntKPRtb_bq3gEEl_QLehJrnqs3NTZ2emReHBs2gzYa7AtgOKzlRVvRwsFVJYgJKVFE85lDf41pTD0/s1600-h/Vaa&Me.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaI_rbKQtlpaJ1UMzXuC-_XHtNtx_ojDynEmbGxRn_IcM_uSuG-rqdxFmk6MER0ntKPRtb_bq3gEEl_QLehJrnqs3NTZ2emReHBs2gzYa7AtgOKzlRVvRwsFVJYgJKVFE85lDf41pTD0/s400/Vaa&Me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318083481653138258" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhqJZrV4bluiGRswmc9OV9aADNEamp_ovyR9uXo5djqGSIEk7OwOMms3X-AwUwkpiHH7ER3vzHdtpPjZ2aZ-b-eLVmihMvwGFtZSge2UwRV9Ct2dJ7sdka5ldIlkJw7niPoS9KRqYDo0Q/s1600-h/Me&the-boys.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhqJZrV4bluiGRswmc9OV9aADNEamp_ovyR9uXo5djqGSIEk7OwOMms3X-AwUwkpiHH7ER3vzHdtpPjZ2aZ-b-eLVmihMvwGFtZSge2UwRV9Ct2dJ7sdka5ldIlkJw7niPoS9KRqYDo0Q/s400/Me&the-boys.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318083481514633234" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Looking back on my time in Samoa, I would have to say it was a memorable four months. From the wonderful people and unique culture to the stunning beaches and constant sunshine, Samoa will forever be a paradise in my mind. Shooting a documentary gave me the opportunity to meet all sorts of people from spearfishermen to traditional siapo-cloth makers. Traveling throughout the country gave me deeper insight into what is at the essence of Samoa. I remember working on the plantation with my friends, planting taro, cutting down banana trees, and drinking coconuts by the dozen. All the while under a beautiful blue sky and warm tropical breeze. Then there were the moments spent around the bonfire on the beach, listening to homegrown guitar music and swapping jokes and language. I still catch myself laughing thinking about Fao Fao, my best friend/ 4 year old nemesis who followed me around everywhere, copied everything I did, and somehow taught me some amazing dance moves. I recall sitting in the middle of the empty street at night, talking with my adopted brothers Paye and Tuua and watching people of all ages walk by on their nightly jaunts. Then there were the days spent helping the girls with their chores and English, and letting them make jokes about me in Samoan for hours all the while not understanding one bit. Talking with my adopted mom Rosa and hearing her stories from her youth everyday at lunch was perhaps my favorite part of the day. Jumpstarting cars, killing pigs, harvesting shellfish and hunting octopus, wrestling with the kids, cooking palusami, climbing coconut trees, dancing, learning Samoan, running from Fafafines, listening to people sing, and hearing more gossip than I thought a small village could ever produce was just a day’s work in Saleapanga. When I finally said goodbye to all my family’s tearful faces and my plane took off out of the jungle heading for a new continent, it was hard to imagine living somewhere else.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div> So here I sit, almost two weeks in Chile and well on my way into my third and last adventure. I live in a wonderful little home with a Chilean family who in some ways remind me of my friends back in Samoa. But here there are no coconuts chugging sessions or scores of little kids just waiting to trip you up. Here there are giant mountains and massive deserts. And a new type of people work the land and live amongst the coastlines, plying the waters for a living. Just last week I spent a few hours at the local seafood market and watched through the fog as little yellow fishing boats were pulled out of the sea by their owners who sold their catches along the shore. I also walked the eccentric winding streets of Valparaiso with its ancient acensores (elevators) and Pablo Neruda inspired architecture. And the other day, I was sitting on a three hundred foot sand dune that dumped right into the ocean, an ocean that I had traveled in part, that stretched all the back to the origins of my journey last July when I landed in New Zealand.<br /><br /> I have just over three and a half months left to my trip and I couldn’t be happier with what I’ve seen, filmed, and learned. Now that I am well past the halfway point, I have begun thinking about home again and all the family and friends that I miss dearly. I look forward to seeing you all very soon and I hope that you will check in to my blog a few more times before this August for some more Chilean adventures, photos, and videos.<br /><br />Ciao!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-37972224797780931452009-01-13T15:59:00.000-08:002009-01-26T17:04:36.803-08:00Latest Photos<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4ZeuZkGS42jMQEvk_YbszjWLh4nl5Ysi-vJLuOVVPcDQTzIMwo2FpWNja_ZXTWiVGw2JQ4o4wZH2gevaoFltnkgufVOMlenGonDTdVwb9mf3IQVX5IP00DjWH3-ABfuq_VNi8nof9VQ/s1600-h/tana&afa.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290932807886201266" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 267px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4ZeuZkGS42jMQEvk_YbszjWLh4nl5Ysi-vJLuOVVPcDQTzIMwo2FpWNja_ZXTWiVGw2JQ4o4wZH2gevaoFltnkgufVOMlenGonDTdVwb9mf3IQVX5IP00DjWH3-ABfuq_VNi8nof9VQ/s400/tana&afa.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Tana and Afa hanging out<br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3vk68Ol3QhZ02Jcv44UmCGf5K__pOJrX25cXcpq6POOlxh7k1PKma29Tb22DLOArxED513TR-NC5EyHFOTdl-N_drCsu62pIX2La_zy9tsNWf0gP6F8XUFOvev1nGSBw6hd_-xk3oSVQ/s1600-h/thunderstorm.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290932807612531858" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 267px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3vk68Ol3QhZ02Jcv44UmCGf5K__pOJrX25cXcpq6POOlxh7k1PKma29Tb22DLOArxED513TR-NC5EyHFOTdl-N_drCsu62pIX2La_zy9tsNWf0gP6F8XUFOvev1nGSBw6hd_-xk3oSVQ/s400/thunderstorm.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Classic Samoan Thunderstorm<br /><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBF5CqNxsatWit-gdNrOrAepWN1oizHc4HH9ABol4biGkcnflDUJPUCaeFUGh_exRZDu8p_msp2rwQ6zCJVD8A1BUe470PlZVuvo8PMBz-BaG-uQ1PoY3EeWFwGfhq2JyjyMHz7MDouo/s1600-h/reefharvesting.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290932806565784482" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 267px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBF5CqNxsatWit-gdNrOrAepWN1oizHc4HH9ABol4biGkcnflDUJPUCaeFUGh_exRZDu8p_msp2rwQ6zCJVD8A1BUe470PlZVuvo8PMBz-BaG-uQ1PoY3EeWFwGfhq2JyjyMHz7MDouo/s400/reefharvesting.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Harvesting on the Reef<br /><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1iQBkrKb8OJoyiDn76xBGXNiNyfdehdygU_qM5PDUcsqp2wNzDry0581lZNVnqgD2AS6fo0Cj8FyTiEGYPdniKbP6LhegiaTduUnOe0s0Tlx_hH3g4disIzYPaZ9Blzl7o4s-wPyBnk/s1600-h/faofao.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290932801852847186" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 267px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1iQBkrKb8OJoyiDn76xBGXNiNyfdehdygU_qM5PDUcsqp2wNzDry0581lZNVnqgD2AS6fo0Cj8FyTiEGYPdniKbP6LhegiaTduUnOe0s0Tlx_hH3g4disIzYPaZ9Blzl7o4s-wPyBnk/s400/faofao.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />4yr old Fao Fao himself (Samoan legend) and my best friend </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-72182723468336684652009-01-07T16:27:00.000-08:002009-01-07T16:38:39.365-08:00First Month in Samoa<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6CjBHX-xKZPMSMib44Hakl35dXX55lc2bBn4lLjN2NjFai21ebbZ6SCGHdePLYQD3da23ReqwM1GIm4nox7b9crhjGjaFhWyRJz-V4WYtug1qrQJ4vm_BIR9do2_kT652mcWB5cbLa2k/s1600-h/OlemoleFalls.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6CjBHX-xKZPMSMib44Hakl35dXX55lc2bBn4lLjN2NjFai21ebbZ6SCGHdePLYQD3da23ReqwM1GIm4nox7b9crhjGjaFhWyRJz-V4WYtug1qrQJ4vm_BIR9do2_kT652mcWB5cbLa2k/s400/OlemoleFalls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288713736406890162" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhztjaVJPI44e4RYWK9qcHG6qyzl6DEK-ZBeC6zjqhltDWEsssa0rHQVI_GMQgMdSqhsPF_HT7nHHiC7WrT3H5p6YF0_VEe6KoHPI2JqrJ1rvs81AA9_hkvbiAlnlTry4c2HaLeY53wTlA/s1600-h/Savaii_Beach.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhztjaVJPI44e4RYWK9qcHG6qyzl6DEK-ZBeC6zjqhltDWEsssa0rHQVI_GMQgMdSqhsPF_HT7nHHiC7WrT3H5p6YF0_VEe6KoHPI2JqrJ1rvs81AA9_hkvbiAlnlTry4c2HaLeY53wTlA/s400/Savaii_Beach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288713729424304706" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />Its been almost one month since I arrived in Samoa and what a month it has been. I left Auckland on the 8th of December on a crowded flight with expatriate Samoans returning home. The atmosphere aboard was enlivening, just about everyone was excited about arriving. Women wore flowers in their hair and men wore lava lavas which are very colorful and long (like wearing a towel). After a bumpy flight we arrived to pouring rain and sweltering heat. Walking out of the plane was like being dunked in a hot tub. Even though I was in shorts and a t-shirt, I was dripping within minutes. Falealo’lo airport was tiny. We walked down a set of old stairs from the plane and across a tarmac surrounded by green, verdant jungle. Grabbing a taxi, I headed into downtown Apia, about a fifty minute drive from the airport.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-pXxBFskhiHHHhhDpibqxNFRecb_wyBNbJRlwW8bcy5SJyRm7mjPp5lLiAwtCn_Sdt7despzLJv_zwttLQLTHTOMQP7LLw3k-7ZJ5Jr7DPHnjaX8E6UjcR9Ci-AELi2MUqzIDwMRZdU/s1600-h/Lava_Fields.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-pXxBFskhiHHHhhDpibqxNFRecb_wyBNbJRlwW8bcy5SJyRm7mjPp5lLiAwtCn_Sdt7despzLJv_zwttLQLTHTOMQP7LLw3k-7ZJ5Jr7DPHnjaX8E6UjcR9Ci-AELi2MUqzIDwMRZdU/s400/Lava_Fields.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288713738672846866" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />My first few days I spent in Apia, getting my bearings and trying to figure out how to avoid the torrential rainstorms that seemed to appear out of nowhere and leave just as quickly. More than once I was soaked walking the fruit splattered roads of Apia. The largest town in Samoa, Apia has a population of 40,000. After a few days in town I had had enough and so took a wild bus ride to the south coast. Its about a two hour drive across the mountains. Covered in jungle, huge banyan trees, and waterfalls, the Samoan highlands are impressive considering the tiny size of the island. Once across, the simple two-lane road winds its way along the coast and through village after village. The majority of Samoans live along the coast, making a living from family-owned plantations. Papaya, mangoes, pineapple, taro root, coconut, breadfruit, and wood are common harvests. There is also a lot of subsistence fishing. You can find people fishing the reefs daily, either walking out with nets or speardiving. Most Samoans live in simple houses which don’t have walls but columns. As you drive by you can see all the belongings of a home. My favorite time of day to drive by is around noon when everyone takes a nap in the shade to avoid the intense heat. If you were new to Samoa you might be worried because bodies just litter the sides of the roads. When not sleeping or working, most Samoans hang out on the roads, waving as people go by. The buses are also an experience in their own right. Huge and painted in tons of colors, each is unique and belongs to its driver. Every bus has a slogan on either the front or the back. My favorites still are “Why Me,” “Bring Them to me Alive,” “Who’s Next,” and “Bon Jovi Express.” You almost always share your seat with a few other people. One of my favorite things about Samoa is the fashion. Traditional fia fia dresses are incredibly beautiful and ornate with inlaid flowers and designs of all sorts.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbD2vcAhASIK7iRjtE4gCoPnJ9HJd05Bk8Pu9m5rO_dfLq2Mbg16ZlCFd8RDU-kJDFWwCIgiJadRYgD7tRzYjumMkQM-yKQU0NpBLXOpzWN_pVMYogx7LG_tQoMe8F7NmKqMXoAdVZl-g/s1600-h/Palusami-Umu.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbD2vcAhASIK7iRjtE4gCoPnJ9HJd05Bk8Pu9m5rO_dfLq2Mbg16ZlCFd8RDU-kJDFWwCIgiJadRYgD7tRzYjumMkQM-yKQU0NpBLXOpzWN_pVMYogx7LG_tQoMe8F7NmKqMXoAdVZl-g/s400/Palusami-Umu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288713755762254354" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguLVMJVyhrO0H9FqVhhc0tMVggh7vje7pUlnxxNSDEeYHONDLic4kzlnK0bUtlMaWNlomDzsv_VgAuOC3ANtHasz06ZfW4O6DxSNxsso1NgX8iLu_Pz9LTVGGF0AZrVYuRPDFRc3bMGLQ/s1600-h/Waterfall.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguLVMJVyhrO0H9FqVhhc0tMVggh7vje7pUlnxxNSDEeYHONDLic4kzlnK0bUtlMaWNlomDzsv_VgAuOC3ANtHasz06ZfW4O6DxSNxsso1NgX8iLu_Pz9LTVGGF0AZrVYuRPDFRc3bMGLQ/s400/Waterfall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288713743718344002" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />Anyhow, my first ride to the south coast was an experience. I was headed for the beach fales located on the eastern end of the south island. Fales are traditional thatch roof dwellings with intricate palm-frond sides which you can tie up during the day or let down at night for privacy and protection from the rain. The floors sit about three feet above the sand to avoid extreme tides from the nearby sea. The best part about fales is that you can see and hear the ocean at night and during the day you jump right out into the sand. If you want to live on the beach a Samoan fale is the absolute best way to do it. I ended up meeting a young guy named Va’a, who was twenty-two and ran Fao Fao beach fales, a collection of fales on the beach with a huge open fale restaurant, shop, and performance fale for weekend fia fias (dances). Va’a and his extended family live across the road from the beach and are wonderful hosts. Fao Fao is located in the village of Saleapanga, about 5 miles from the eastern end of the island. Fao Fao fales is an awesome way to experience tropical beaches while retaining a connection with traditional Samoan life. Much of the food that is prepared comes from the local plantation, you share many of the same facilities with the local families, and after a while become friends with just about everyone from the smallest toddlers to the eldest chiefs. I’ve found my behaviors, attitude, and daily schedules mirrors Samoan life more and more. I sleep during the hottest hours, wake up early before the sun rises, and go to bed well before ten. I too spend time just watching cars go by or waves slide by and in many ways I enjoy the simple life that exists here.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiEY0x6YtFf8jq302ZDyM0gNKIDEtFppfAQm6e27Kikp4TR0b0McodgcWmn9a4nT3adOSu4PK7WnrRaZ3sfETAWKpYqWAOi5LsXzJIFzyl7FcgIHcldJukk2RQXIF2CAKV9tWVQstwbUE/s1600-h/Blowholes.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiEY0x6YtFf8jq302ZDyM0gNKIDEtFppfAQm6e27Kikp4TR0b0McodgcWmn9a4nT3adOSu4PK7WnrRaZ3sfETAWKpYqWAOi5LsXzJIFzyl7FcgIHcldJukk2RQXIF2CAKV9tWVQstwbUE/s400/Blowholes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288714053282787106" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpkISaecoFf0MTo2WHAdv3iwpXE9BrsGaHqSV1MXnKTT9nUuq5P71nyQWXGbihm3WVO_ykGy2E1-lBIITBWi4bXPBM0qAxx1JfFYqZTDGzkVZflhL-wsWSq8vcBFObcz9PaN5YWZmcYvE/s1600-h/FaoFao_Fishing.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpkISaecoFf0MTo2WHAdv3iwpXE9BrsGaHqSV1MXnKTT9nUuq5P71nyQWXGbihm3WVO_ykGy2E1-lBIITBWi4bXPBM0qAxx1JfFYqZTDGzkVZflhL-wsWSq8vcBFObcz9PaN5YWZmcYvE/s400/FaoFao_Fishing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288714055103438530" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9cOF9MYRO-jOMntb8nGAqkoDwGaVEdBhIxm_Gu4kFJ0frQx4QTRtO8BcDAexBPs8xlmD16rxfFYg2QM0jgPCqdjbH1Xm9g2217mKra9ASLRJfT1EQyL5bFVqcMlB0D6ipfwrDdN4qkH0/s1600-h/FaoFao_Sunset.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9cOF9MYRO-jOMntb8nGAqkoDwGaVEdBhIxm_Gu4kFJ0frQx4QTRtO8BcDAexBPs8xlmD16rxfFYg2QM0jgPCqdjbH1Xm9g2217mKra9ASLRJfT1EQyL5bFVqcMlB0D6ipfwrDdN4qkH0/s400/FaoFao_Sunset.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288714064192240146" border="0" /></a><br /><br />To be continued . . .<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-45105789218282386042008-12-02T13:38:00.000-08:002008-12-02T14:38:15.564-08:00My Kiwi Adventure Comes to a Close<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tmk9lpfs8akO8TUpiCaodASLn2t4W7rYm0WnJFIy4RNSwh6IklhVKQuppa-ObWQr4gGg-yrKlPmgTQmi3QvI-D4Mg276qv0k7a-4bGvKDdLPsGIMuSSzuEGm0-t7SxK6iTIZt3ylc5A/s1600-h/West_Coast_Fog.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tmk9lpfs8akO8TUpiCaodASLn2t4W7rYm0WnJFIy4RNSwh6IklhVKQuppa-ObWQr4gGg-yrKlPmgTQmi3QvI-D4Mg276qv0k7a-4bGvKDdLPsGIMuSSzuEGm0-t7SxK6iTIZt3ylc5A/s400/West_Coast_Fog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275322755003802226" border="0" /></a><br /><br />West Coast Jungle<br /><br /></div>I'm sad to say it, but my time in New Zealand has come to an end. Looking back on my four months in Aotearoa I can't believe that I managed to shoot more than 20 hours of film footage, complete many interviews, and meet with dozens and dozens of Kiwis interested in sustainable fisheries. It's been a whirlwind tour across both islands from the glaciers and fjords of the South Island to the rainforests and volcanoes of the North Island and I'm a little tired just thinking about it.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOMlCjY5kt1mWhA1uh5Ia9l-PU3efFjUjTL5bWNVDnKyTysOqplWsOV2YcH-buNu9LNGV9Oxe1Jfo0b4N5yaDPqy_WFTB2QFe6YcIN-YtByJbMwiB0Ekvs5HwJdGu-Rh5CXzs-mz2nRE/s1600-h/TheHIllsHaveEyes.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOMlCjY5kt1mWhA1uh5Ia9l-PU3efFjUjTL5bWNVDnKyTysOqplWsOV2YcH-buNu9LNGV9Oxe1Jfo0b4N5yaDPqy_WFTB2QFe6YcIN-YtByJbMwiB0Ekvs5HwJdGu-Rh5CXzs-mz2nRE/s400/TheHIllsHaveEyes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275322753496884626" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The Road South to Otago<br /></div><br />It's a bit crazy to think but the last 3o days have seen more traveling than the first three months combined. After saying goodbye to my wonderful host family in Christchurch where I spent a good portion of my time on the South Island I headed down the Otago coast and crossed the Southern Alps picking up the last of my footage in Dunedin, Queenstown, and the West Coast. I was met with a barrage of rain, snow, and wind during my brief few stint through these very southern parts, even though it was spring and the flora and fauna were in full bloom. After passing through the coastal city of Greymouth towards the north end of the West Coast I returned again to Nelson where I conducted a few last minute interviews and meetings with my remaining interested parties. Luckily, the day before my ferry to Wellington, the sun finally came out and I was able to take a brief jaunt to the world renowned Abel Tasman National Park where I caught a few fish for dinner and took a much needed nap on a golden sand beach. During my few days in Nelson, I was also blessed to run into my closest friends from Christchurch would happened to be traveling through as well. We built a fire on the beach and watched as the tide slowly washed it away before saying our goodbyes.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivGji1Q-EUdSbcHnkNKxawCqhpjWhlMOOkf2ifhDxNElamtFyvchMAasb7tpN2zlSyAGLOosnZ6OkGifBS3KW6gU8zw_ahyuf5H5xqrvitwSw5ksPaDkrj1LUuYuLHN3VfHxjRzB9BhjE/s1600-h/The-Gang.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivGji1Q-EUdSbcHnkNKxawCqhpjWhlMOOkf2ifhDxNElamtFyvchMAasb7tpN2zlSyAGLOosnZ6OkGifBS3KW6gU8zw_ahyuf5H5xqrvitwSw5ksPaDkrj1LUuYuLHN3VfHxjRzB9BhjE/s400/The-Gang.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275322757996436274" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Good Friends<br /><br /></div>My ferry ride across the Cook Strait was uneventful and aside from an interview and meeting with the Seafood Industry Council and NIWA, I barely lingered in Wellington. After leaving the perimeter of the city and headed back towards the West Coast, I was again greeted by torrential rainfall and for the next few days I lived a very wet and miserable existence plagued by more mosquitoes than I ever thought existed. Eventually I found my way to the Coromandel Peninsula towards the tip of the North Island where I met with a Bowdoin couple and filmed a bit more footage. After sitting in my own personal saltwater hot-tub at Hotwater beach (a geothermally heated beach) I finally I arrived in Raglan and was afforded a chance to unpack my bags, wash my clothes, and empty the sand out of my shoes.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5caqaKKxXJioqNcHhZkLZDLowaH3WYdYjaYl1NmB16ETpVCuWnlRwBHDJ5zULOJcyFhC1fNF_lf5jmEn9C6JtS-YpGm4Jh-Bgf7gQfSR_fxDJleSLojtl5QvaSuztBZx0Q6xz4vOy-Q/s1600-h/Milford_River.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5caqaKKxXJioqNcHhZkLZDLowaH3WYdYjaYl1NmB16ETpVCuWnlRwBHDJ5zULOJcyFhC1fNF_lf5jmEn9C6JtS-YpGm4Jh-Bgf7gQfSR_fxDJleSLojtl5QvaSuztBZx0Q6xz4vOy-Q/s400/Milford_River.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275323887275060162" border="0" /></a><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7eQ7xuEmQQGssdaDVUqh62nK0JRzjKmNqYQSUo7U3G3JxY1V7CQsxbu1UVlaOGvLkraeBNyPg05tTEQflk1ylvHKtt75fgomNJh-2I9NPXKJgShb4wGax-3gWSPSFwFaxUO13SHvO3s/s1600-h/Cape_Tribulation1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7eQ7xuEmQQGssdaDVUqh62nK0JRzjKmNqYQSUo7U3G3JxY1V7CQsxbu1UVlaOGvLkraeBNyPg05tTEQflk1ylvHKtt75fgomNJh-2I9NPXKJgShb4wGax-3gWSPSFwFaxUO13SHvO3s/s400/Cape_Tribulation1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275323865442579218" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><br />As I finish this last post from New Zealand my mind is already wandering back to the breathtaking vistas I filmed and hospitable Kiwis I met. From a friendly fisherman at Opito Beach who offered me a fresh fish he had just caught to all the roadside fruit and honey vendors who were always happy to chat about anything, I have to say I've never met a more friendly or laid-back group of people. And remembering the mountain peaks, glacier-fed rivers, golden beaches, waterfalls, and lush rainforests, its possible I've not seen a more beautiful landscape in all my life. Sure, it hasn't all been a breeze, I've broken camera gear, lost footage, twisted ankles, and ruined more clothing that I thought possible. But despite these few bumps, the road through New Zealand has changed my life for the better and left me with memories that I'll never forget.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2GR_Nl1Iid6UlObO3C6ALflFSwnjaemJNdkN8tksY-jmxtmBncHtDa2DoPJ5z8iX10HoNFlIiCh73UxFSU6y0c8rkFabT-KFomLXkXhougrfdPEzrI58xSEo3hv2GswD1oSCPgsG7cy4/s1600-h/Fox_Glacier.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2GR_Nl1Iid6UlObO3C6ALflFSwnjaemJNdkN8tksY-jmxtmBncHtDa2DoPJ5z8iX10HoNFlIiCh73UxFSU6y0c8rkFabT-KFomLXkXhougrfdPEzrI58xSEo3hv2GswD1oSCPgsG7cy4/s400/Fox_Glacier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275323877280972018" border="0" /></a><br /><br />West Coast Fox Glacier<br /></div><br />So, my dearest friends and family, as the holiday preparations begin back home, I'm heading off on a new adventure, to the tropical islands of Samoa. Chances are I'll be decorating a palm tree with coconuts this Christmas instead of a pine tree! I miss you all and will be sure to write again soon. In the meantime I wish you all a very happy holidays.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqmOiTQdwC9YTU9SlvtWi1P_VPrVhWPksyCZC6BcqFJ-bUsIE-rkRRypfQoTHrp4hfz6TWDQbg3A-bRez5b0djHnmze4XZK6pQQ-vRx0ZyyU2Bx8QCXSlnyYXVANBOqGkNj0yZKinvEI/s1600-h/Low_Tide_at_Hastings_Reef.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqmOiTQdwC9YTU9SlvtWi1P_VPrVhWPksyCZC6BcqFJ-bUsIE-rkRRypfQoTHrp4hfz6TWDQbg3A-bRez5b0djHnmze4XZK6pQQ-vRx0ZyyU2Bx8QCXSlnyYXVANBOqGkNj0yZKinvEI/s400/Low_Tide_at_Hastings_Reef.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275323881421757890" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-81429664156991801392008-11-01T22:09:00.000-07:002008-11-01T22:27:00.140-07:00Fading Into the Blue Trailer #1<span>I'm excited to say that I've just completed the first trailer for my film!!!</span> I've uploaded it for the time being to YouTube as I'm still working out a few kinks to get it on my blog. Click on the title above to navigate to the page. If your computer can handle it, click on the option to "watch in high quality" as I posted an HD version. Hope you enjoy and I look forward to any comments you may have.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-60riqGb8aryKSroHkvY9X7w0bR3Hy5A0Blmd1fVAvnouBgFu2uQTtNbmScmUpia_ztoA7lkYfrjzQFC91N1fX7JO1V1i5vRi7FnicBEdQ7I4vOernZ-Iok_aQeEshjl93aEtkz97vU/s1600-h/fitb.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 322px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-60riqGb8aryKSroHkvY9X7w0bR3Hy5A0Blmd1fVAvnouBgFu2uQTtNbmScmUpia_ztoA7lkYfrjzQFC91N1fX7JO1V1i5vRi7FnicBEdQ7I4vOernZ-Iok_aQeEshjl93aEtkz97vU/s400/fitb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263926521363211282" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-27563392479691486542008-11-01T18:30:00.000-07:002008-11-02T18:23:36.604-08:00October: 100% Pure New ZealandLess than a month has passed since my last blog post but I barely know where to begin. Seasonly, New Zealand has blossomed. Trees adorned with flowers ranging from exotic purples to violent yellows litter the land like an impressionistic painting, young animals frolic across the rolling green hills, and the dark clouds have withdrawn from the coasts revealing an ocean brimming with life and color. For weeks I have traveled daily with my camera fully assembled in a duffel bag at my side, too afraid to be caught staring at a perfect scene without camera in hand. Roadside fruit and vegetable stands have popped up like weeds after a rainstorm and friendly smiling people abound. The Kiwi motto of "100% Pure New Zealand" seems to have finally come true.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnB4sX098iw1kQ7CKxvuRAIqKWdkbHpQGF41vgrRPyP_Lu4CRtLug1Rm47WwHz1gUwAfp_Un4JR0toiLv0EFPwD_auDx_l7hQlCKPRVxPVL94NwffQVFQ8Udbu6-T_V48Dk5nNQxq8OY/s1600-h/Spiderweb.jpg"> </a><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnB4sX098iw1kQ7CKxvuRAIqKWdkbHpQGF41vgrRPyP_Lu4CRtLug1Rm47WwHz1gUwAfp_Un4JR0toiLv0EFPwD_auDx_l7hQlCKPRVxPVL94NwffQVFQ8Udbu6-T_V48Dk5nNQxq8OY/s1600-h/Spiderweb.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnB4sX098iw1kQ7CKxvuRAIqKWdkbHpQGF41vgrRPyP_Lu4CRtLug1Rm47WwHz1gUwAfp_Un4JR0toiLv0EFPwD_auDx_l7hQlCKPRVxPVL94NwffQVFQ8Udbu6-T_V48Dk5nNQxq8OY/s200/Spiderweb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263912323424347650" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi557TYggeaSP-O77aiG5Vtj6jAHbhyT_DPMuFwKhNaPa_GN3x5i-hHy2HCY-jWLamhcaohxjjBIMud-QBpdxjYzuh972PMkH_qz5_DlSlKKJllsBYzAZDFqEWi-pMCGA07PePRO5AvaE8/s1600-h/Flower.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi557TYggeaSP-O77aiG5Vtj6jAHbhyT_DPMuFwKhNaPa_GN3x5i-hHy2HCY-jWLamhcaohxjjBIMud-QBpdxjYzuh972PMkH_qz5_DlSlKKJllsBYzAZDFqEWi-pMCGA07PePRO5AvaE8/s200/Flower.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263912581366761010" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEildz7VWowHoXT8oN-g3t0laUGWkENsw8IDoJOzstnK4SSn2hlHWIYFvW57glvdlKZFcO5TZM3VoUKm8J-v3w6-LrKOXPG9SABVN8odk0JnJsz1Z5_IDVQH7zHJbhUcVuh2q5M1kfpa9sc/s1600-h/MirrorLakes.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEildz7VWowHoXT8oN-g3t0laUGWkENsw8IDoJOzstnK4SSn2hlHWIYFvW57glvdlKZFcO5TZM3VoUKm8J-v3w6-LrKOXPG9SABVN8odk0JnJsz1Z5_IDVQH7zHJbhUcVuh2q5M1kfpa9sc/s200/MirrorLakes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263913129485440994" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /> My film has entered a new season as well. I have slowly removed myself from the quagmire of pre-production and incessant phone calls and transitioned to full-time filming and editing. It has been a welcome change and one that keeps me constantly invigorated, albeit slightly sleep-deprived. Most days find me shooting interviews or canvassing the landscape and small townships with my camera in tow. My first stop after I left you in Nelson as of my last post, was Wellington where I met Dr. Phil Heath of the National Institute of Water and Atmospheric Research. My arrival to Wellington was predicated by a long but stunning ferry ride through the magnificent Marlborough Sounds and across the wild and windy Cook Straight. A clean city of 200,000, its white walled houses are tucked into the green hills of the North Island. I must say of all the cities I have every visited, it ranks as one of my favorites both in beauty and personality.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-H6ul73t25akfycKeEL9PFePKUu5U0oKpfTQNxo50sVDTpgvBtVEcZhWxZG5j5jPrpZbtzy2h0NFAuxocQJkJ1dJtSmRanC4CEsa1MUXiGR2IUFwdzrxOZJkqmbH8vTdt_-oWMZsqR00/s1600-h/IMG_3736.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-H6ul73t25akfycKeEL9PFePKUu5U0oKpfTQNxo50sVDTpgvBtVEcZhWxZG5j5jPrpZbtzy2h0NFAuxocQJkJ1dJtSmRanC4CEsa1MUXiGR2IUFwdzrxOZJkqmbH8vTdt_-oWMZsqR00/s200/IMG_3736.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263916091416344546" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF3GO5Xq58K09TGAcG0k4VjjYIl3TOiI5vBnUpGN-qma39-HVxPxNOcotWh4cFcpGgBfzN227qduB3AGG86LJe41dmhGfVwuFhOrheg-zmFlzRs1L0iOPt0CTiBu3XmvmfUZSUAmgTn1g/s1600-h/IMG_3768.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF3GO5Xq58K09TGAcG0k4VjjYIl3TOiI5vBnUpGN-qma39-HVxPxNOcotWh4cFcpGgBfzN227qduB3AGG86LJe41dmhGfVwuFhOrheg-zmFlzRs1L0iOPt0CTiBu3XmvmfUZSUAmgTn1g/s200/IMG_3768.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263916658136947602" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTNO0CiVYugL84jhVN_9q-6Y_Tf8rXm8ynWCkhatauoW8IfLhMR2f0yYD4tFlFH9UuVhdXVXHCOtcwT0r1zgQpZWVnmxtLBjGGbmgzf9HR515mMgShRElmk1BfFexvlGdGAc4D2TDTfI/s1600-h/IMG_3902.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTNO0CiVYugL84jhVN_9q-6Y_Tf8rXm8ynWCkhatauoW8IfLhMR2f0yYD4tFlFH9UuVhdXVXHCOtcwT0r1zgQpZWVnmxtLBjGGbmgzf9HR515mMgShRElmk1BfFexvlGdGAc4D2TDTfI/s200/IMG_3902.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263915124694577986" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">(Above are a few photos of yours truly)<br /></div><br /> My trip to the aquaculture research facility in Mahanga Bay, Wellington, was stimulating and eye-opening. Dr. Phil and his counterparts were actively growing and researching the Paua, a large shellfish native to New Zealand waters. Their research provided the Paua industry with better methods for creating economically and environmentally sustainable Paua farms. Before interviewing, Phil showed me around the facility, noting the many breeding pools and cages full of young and mature Paua shells (some as tiny as pin heads and others as large as my palm). Most interesting was how they had engineered a way to grow Paua with white bottoms and without losing the blue character of their shells via a combination of clean tanks and certain vegetable based foods. The best part was watching Phil pluck a mature Paua from the tank and hold the creature on his hand until two tentacles peered out from under the shell.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkQZOh0dDHYN6nd2zqKP6z4I9J9-aQwOXPzoHrzWJh_px_F_IcG5Vaz5N9ikh43I5_UCOL4OVpv-ZIfMw-P-hahEyVwTOPWqdt8apCFrMYliVWbo8_0SW8InFarYJEe-vQGs4VuYCy_o/s1600-h/Paua_Shells.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 232px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkQZOh0dDHYN6nd2zqKP6z4I9J9-aQwOXPzoHrzWJh_px_F_IcG5Vaz5N9ikh43I5_UCOL4OVpv-ZIfMw-P-hahEyVwTOPWqdt8apCFrMYliVWbo8_0SW8InFarYJEe-vQGs4VuYCy_o/s320/Paua_Shells.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263880304491522690" border="0" /></a><br />(Paua Shells on Display at a farmer's market)<br /></div><br /> After my tour around the facility, Phil graciously answered my questions regarding the sustainability of aquaculture. He made enlightening comparisons between terrestrial and water based farming arguing that while our culture will accept thousands of hectares of cow farms, a few Paua or Salmon farms will stir the general public into a frenzy. He furthered his argument by talking about the difference between the conception of public and private space and how in essence, we as a society view the oceans as public space . . . thus explaining our misunderstanding of aquaculture. It was an interesting discussion and one that I hope you enjoy in full when the film is finished next year.<br /><br /> I could have spent much more time in Wellington but business beckoned me back to Nelson and after a quick meeting with The Seafood Industry Council where I briefly interviewed for their magazine about my project, I took an incredibly bumpy and rainy five hour ferry ride back to the South Island. There I met with Chris Choat of Aquaculture New Zealand who put together an interview will the local paper, the Nelson Mail, as well as two shoots with King Salmon and Marlborough Mussels (aquaculture operations based out of Marlborough). Needless to say I worked straight out for a few days, riding out on boats to the farms, filming tons of salmon and mussels being harvested, and interviewing many people. Now that I've finally gotten a chance to sit down, take a deep breathe, and reflect back on the last few weeks, I couldn't be happier with the progress I've made. The friendly and accommodating people I've met, places I've been, and action I've documented have made October a month to remember.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-66332387200796327972008-10-12T00:18:00.000-07:002008-11-15T03:45:30.254-08:00North to Nelson<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3KKKYS9nqecA8GZazjySfSFiYGeNOL5yTeaVIZwMxZo67LaFrxcQkscd3Q5GWN3M-7CCJlMRHUQEXL7AgEfnhzyEQXmHwqKP03OT4FJmhhvS_85pGZxaDPuy1LJONODA8o1kDIWiy0qY/s1600-h/The_Remarkables.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3KKKYS9nqecA8GZazjySfSFiYGeNOL5yTeaVIZwMxZo67LaFrxcQkscd3Q5GWN3M-7CCJlMRHUQEXL7AgEfnhzyEQXmHwqKP03OT4FJmhhvS_85pGZxaDPuy1LJONODA8o1kDIWiy0qY/s400/The_Remarkables.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256178682903060978" border="0" /></a> Regrettably, my time in the small fishing village of Kaikoura eventually came to an end. Duty called and new shoots beckoned me northwards towards Nelson and the Marlborough Sounds at the tip of the south island. As I passed snow-flecked mountaintops and steel-grey rivers frantically dumping their glacier-melt into the deep coastal waters of the Chatham Rise and Bounty Trough, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness. Something about Kaikoura's constant weather, the slow pace of life, and the ocean air reminded me of my hometown Carlsbad, back in San Diego. But Kaikoura was already rapidly receding into the distance and I slowly turned my thoughts northward.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgxCrTRt0VZ2rUf9hI7orr7PMlOB9NI52jVF_phyphenhyphenxnwoIYaD0DEFzFDYpCxwN61yMTuy57jVNaFkO1QbXZcRFe5bDFrL86KU3KgBhCZ6OAgCyku16iqkh8Q5xgoA7zcewTdJGWqyPuw0s/s1600-h/NZ_Vineyard.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgxCrTRt0VZ2rUf9hI7orr7PMlOB9NI52jVF_phyphenhyphenxnwoIYaD0DEFzFDYpCxwN61yMTuy57jVNaFkO1QbXZcRFe5bDFrL86KU3KgBhCZ6OAgCyku16iqkh8Q5xgoA7zcewTdJGWqyPuw0s/s400/NZ_Vineyard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256178912725994690" border="0" /></a><br />Before this gloomy spell could overtake me and blossom into homesickness I emerged out of the verdant green winery region of Blenheim and burst onto the Marlborough Sounds. And what a sight it was! With crystalline blue waters, golden sand beaches, bright skies, and friendly people, Nelson was a cinematic jewel. Not to be caught with idle feet, I immediately proceeded into downtown Nelson and met up with my aquaculture contact to talk about the operations based in Nelson. Salmon, pacific oysters, and the world-renowed greenshell mussel were some of the main exports. Needless to say we had a long chat about sustainability, aquaculture, and what it meant for the future of fishing around the globe. In the end I told them that I was most interested in documenting and displaying what sustainability actually looked like in practice. I imagine for most of you, myself included, sustainable fisheries seems a murky and sometimes fishy sounding proposal. I mean, what does sustainability actually look like in action? Some of my following questions related to environmental impacts, wild stock assessments, regulations, health inspections, the "organic-ness" of the product, handling, processing, etc. In the end it was important that I got a good grasp on how "sustainable" these fisheries were before I shot any footage.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhveHbUb5z5HgPsEXlJNetDJWQxlXJAaV6jgV9BwPtF4OmFzd3dsDrm09aCcZVQvzl9z8mOl89-jkd2wGjAf4odjgh7kU8bBZ-OvXf1a7Ix_vGubH270lt765Ta2O3ofK6GU3z6Gs4Cjr4/s1600-h/Lake_Reflection.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhveHbUb5z5HgPsEXlJNetDJWQxlXJAaV6jgV9BwPtF4OmFzd3dsDrm09aCcZVQvzl9z8mOl89-jkd2wGjAf4odjgh7kU8bBZ-OvXf1a7Ix_vGubH270lt765Ta2O3ofK6GU3z6Gs4Cjr4/s400/Lake_Reflection.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256179279129277586" border="0" /></a><br />After the meeting we set up a few shoots for the coming week. I was pleasantly surprised that the aquaculture operations didn't use water pesticides or antibiotics and secondly, each mussel, oyster, and salmon was handled individually as it came out of the pens. In fact, they said that to farm mussels all they did was set up ropes anchored to the bottom of the seabed and the mussels grew themselves, content in the clean and warm waters of the Marlborough Sounds. Of course a gross simplification of the process, it was still a miracle that pollution was one of their only main concerns, and a small one at that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMA16AKOCgcmAtg_-XsKnVrh5rJJq9-wJHowZttuEpLgke9oXd1FMw1NF3PhlQ5tvlug15R_RqTp33oSWyAGPZb0biTEWke9XjYSFZJkRcRJGG7C6gxJdaSO03gIw-LK3Rpp8wMobvTg/s1600-h/salmon_fillets.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMA16AKOCgcmAtg_-XsKnVrh5rJJq9-wJHowZttuEpLgke9oXd1FMw1NF3PhlQ5tvlug15R_RqTp33oSWyAGPZb0biTEWke9XjYSFZJkRcRJGG7C6gxJdaSO03gIw-LK3Rpp8wMobvTg/s320/salmon_fillets.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256180758248530850" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNyqExFdpAktPuFX0UtZLPT4i1HkD9j8by5Gq-wO5s3SWFv1y2Gs3BsQAUHBKUg7xL0rI9wm-aIX3T9vo4C0NAvzSWkmCYsj7-CAe7u_B_CYJe_NpVxYBxQDOdojHfbtursy4Ebi4-p4/s1600-h/Bubba_Gump.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNyqExFdpAktPuFX0UtZLPT4i1HkD9j8by5Gq-wO5s3SWFv1y2Gs3BsQAUHBKUg7xL0rI9wm-aIX3T9vo4C0NAvzSWkmCYsj7-CAe7u_B_CYJe_NpVxYBxQDOdojHfbtursy4Ebi4-p4/s320/Bubba_Gump.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256180975973412466" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnf4sDeMwWzb2_PH-egQ8db12uRE-_iZ664qlZtnJo5wXGoOHu-GSlVgVf60UKUTGy_8yCueTD4xsOR4nK0o1oHJrdFlQznCtyZDNPMzxVdCz9Mcfo-fQclVlMQLP8ewokmwCZLMLcTKs/s1600-h/OrangeRoughy_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnf4sDeMwWzb2_PH-egQ8db12uRE-_iZ664qlZtnJo5wXGoOHu-GSlVgVf60UKUTGy_8yCueTD4xsOR4nK0o1oHJrdFlQznCtyZDNPMzxVdCz9Mcfo-fQclVlMQLP8ewokmwCZLMLcTKs/s320/OrangeRoughy_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256181177840339202" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">(above are screen-shots from my doco. footage)<br /><br /></div>Phewww! It was a lot to take in and even more to ponder. Yet I found my thoughts lingering over that conversation later the same evening as I sat atop a hill overlooking Nelson (a hill which was the geographic center of New Zealand in fact). I couldn't help but wonder, what did this mean for my documentary and what role would aquaculture play in 21st century ocean management?Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-61628473066925245342008-10-02T19:23:00.000-07:002008-10-02T20:02:11.539-07:00Winter Comes to An EndWell I'm happy to say that winter finally came to an end. August and September brought much rain and gloomy days but now that October is here the weather has changed for the better. People are crawling out of their homes to witness miraculously clear days and longer hours of sunshine. It has been particularly exciting for me as this seasonal change has given me much more time to get outside for film and photograph opportunities.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUzmtciL0hpk8guW8Fp-tX2UYH3Bnchwa-eOggHBepd1XTWO-DBhyphenhyphendYjgJeF5PqiUoLwaUXDW-VWmYEOToGs2Mlo57NRqXK3yCozaj1wjFoMf-KAv5K_ZtAFg7KRXs7XPjpMqHJJUcxOQ/s1600-h/Portobello.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUzmtciL0hpk8guW8Fp-tX2UYH3Bnchwa-eOggHBepd1XTWO-DBhyphenhyphendYjgJeF5PqiUoLwaUXDW-VWmYEOToGs2Mlo57NRqXK3yCozaj1wjFoMf-KAv5K_ZtAFg7KRXs7XPjpMqHJJUcxOQ/s400/Portobello.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252753778447506434" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">(Portobello Sunrise, Otago Peninsula)<br /><br /></span></div>Currently I'm in Kaikoura, two hours north of Christchurch at the Kaikoura Seafest, an annual festival which celebrates the sea's bounty. Nearly 6,000 people converge on the tiny town for a two day event featuring music and much seafood. This Seafest is particularly interesting because it sources most of its seafood from the local sustainable industry and it openly promotes itself as a "premiere celebration of the abundance of the oceans and all it represents." The spirit of the festival is a beacon of local Kiwis' goodwill and respect for the ocean and its inhabitants, a message which I hope to convey in my documentary.<br /><br />Yesterday I spent a few hours filming the set-up. It took nearly all day for the central tent, the so-called "Big-Top" to go up as well as the surrounding vendor stalls. Tonight is the pre-event, a four hour "Big Bash" before the actual Seafest begins tomorrow. I'm looking forward to filming a number of seafood cooking presentations and interviewing some of the many patrons who are attending the festival. During my initial filming, I met two local Paua fishermen, Jim and Kev who dive for large hand-sized Paua shells which they then throw on the bbq, apparently the taste is exquisite. They are excited to take me out on their boat and Jim, a character in his own right, said "Once you have Paua you'll never eat another cow again." What a very true and relevant quote.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_5o1JNAFCUSPKQ4TPPbYAKkeKJG7USDzHvwJL1VoHN98Ys0GCJZ-6D1xWRDRQ-RGRNtvV1VSN4d3X799-CqDnA8TnXABJ0KHCNBbaMbIiqn07TbANQL0fk8o8wKeXFCI_0ID2PydJa0/s1600-h/Cows_In_Pasture.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_5o1JNAFCUSPKQ4TPPbYAKkeKJG7USDzHvwJL1VoHN98Ys0GCJZ-6D1xWRDRQ-RGRNtvV1VSN4d3X799-CqDnA8TnXABJ0KHCNBbaMbIiqn07TbANQL0fk8o8wKeXFCI_0ID2PydJa0/s400/Cows_In_Pasture.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252754005786193650" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">(On the road to Gillespie Beach)<br /><br /></span></div>While it is wonderful that Jim loves seafood, his statement also sheds light on a growing issue worldwide and one at the heart of sustainability and my documentary. People are coming to realize that seafood is not only better for you but leaves a smaller carbon footprint than say beef or pork does. And while this realization is good, our exorbitant consumption of seafood is putting an innapropriate amount of stress of fish stocks and as a result threatening the very protein source that we have recently become so fond of. As a result, it is difficult as a filmmaker to balance the dualistic nature of an event like the Kaikoura Seafest. One on hand you have an event that represents seafood gluttony and on the other it is a celebration which opens peoples' eyes to both the quality of fish meat and the importance of saving some for future generations. The key is finding an equilibrium between the two, which I think is a notion at the very heart of sustainability.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfAOCeUa4KoaST7SMlxBfgpVPa_-BeIO0tu5JknAbM__Qjq-HW1DZu2HkyKcAhxVuH_OIOu6HWaEkzuzEgdRuCrQoCyZRxAtkdEV8m9lx4zOZHQbZ8v5Umdpz62FhnZ8THhlGKWMLvC0/s1600-h/NZ_Lighthouse.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfAOCeUa4KoaST7SMlxBfgpVPa_-BeIO0tu5JknAbM__Qjq-HW1DZu2HkyKcAhxVuH_OIOu6HWaEkzuzEgdRuCrQoCyZRxAtkdEV8m9lx4zOZHQbZ8v5Umdpz62FhnZ8THhlGKWMLvC0/s400/NZ_Lighthouse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252754555994464818" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">(Moeraki Lighthouse on Taiaroa Head, Otago Peninsula)</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-25266815584990220522008-09-29T17:27:00.000-07:002008-10-02T19:17:41.156-07:00The First Few Weeks<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3IXc1IQz-pO12JI2Gx95o2vvyIQSR3HIqeo2FgowyFSBKmWjVfc1TFoew-5bsaTmQen4GL9DWXHVNi8sjFgjyFmjmAD0YFu-lnVmABmj4ixJxdbya3hE9PH6em-AL8jonWHplwQrN-xY/s1600-h/Lone_Sheep.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3IXc1IQz-pO12JI2Gx95o2vvyIQSR3HIqeo2FgowyFSBKmWjVfc1TFoew-5bsaTmQen4GL9DWXHVNi8sjFgjyFmjmAD0YFu-lnVmABmj4ixJxdbya3hE9PH6em-AL8jonWHplwQrN-xY/s400/Lone_Sheep.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251605547131864802" border="0" /></a>Perhaps the most common thing you will see in NZ, even in the city, are sheep. They literally coat the land like flies. Its true when they say that humans are outnumbered 10 to 1. Apparently there are upwards of 40 million sheep roaming the grassy hills of both islands. Anyways, during my first outing I was enthralled with the opportunity of getting a picture of one. I would run down the road and go to great lengths to secure a photograph of one, much to the chagrin of my friends. Come to find out sheep photo moments are pretty easy come by. I shot this picture during an excursion into the Port Hills and to Lyttelton Harbour where I had finished a film shoot earlier in the day.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcSTXWyC1SgF2TcCrycr9GGP2OZDgOh93nzqB8HPVZlbCnDS8r-xfEsb2wf5q341wpLOe6CEHx_MrQOpi-KPEtKrjmJ905cwNcFockyzYzS4tTTFuQcShDBPQCRldNnmqQ7x60OmkC1s/s1600-h/Dunedin_SignPost.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcSTXWyC1SgF2TcCrycr9GGP2OZDgOh93nzqB8HPVZlbCnDS8r-xfEsb2wf5q341wpLOe6CEHx_MrQOpi-KPEtKrjmJ905cwNcFockyzYzS4tTTFuQcShDBPQCRldNnmqQ7x60OmkC1s/s400/Dunedin_SignPost.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251606126153559746" border="0" /></a><br />Another sight that is particularly common are large billboard like sign posts which are coated with all sorts of colorful advertisements. I was thoroughly impressed by this particular signpost which hosted a variety of music and film acts that week. Sometimes the side of an entire building would be covered in flyers such as these. Needless to say, its pretty simple to tell what is happening in town from day to day with the help of ads like these.<br /><br />After a few days seeing the sights and settling down, my first few weeks were spent getting in touch with contacts relating to my documentary. Some of the first groups I talked with were the Seafood Industry Council, Aquaculture New Zealand, and the Ministry of Fisheries each of which has a unique responsibility regarding NZ fisheries. The Seafood Council, as its name suggests, represents commercial fishermen and their interests. Aquaculture New Zealand supports the growth and marketing of sustainable fisheries on the islands and the Ministry of Fisheries is the government agency responsible for managing fisheries and creating legislation. The Seafood Council helped me get in touch with a number of commercial fisherman who operate trawler and deep-sea operations out of Lyttelton Harbour and Nelson in Marlborough Sound (about 5 hrs. north of Christchurch). Aquaculture New Zealand alerted me to the Greenshell Mussel Fishery, apparently the most sustainable mussel product in the entire South Pacific. Last but not least was the Ministry of Fisheries who promised an interview relating to government management.<br /><br />These initial forays were enlightening but also overwhelming as I began to realize there were more than 3 major players in the seafood industry. Each call would end with 3 or 4 more contacts and soon I was filling my notebook with countless names and numbers. I began to realize, ever more so, that targeting the right people would become most important during the next few weeks of my journey as I could easily get lost in a sea of contacts.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7A1EMcBr4KsyhYGZBZtDuSZ_MRyemzaQHxmL1Fo8DqUv-0VZ0higZffilIkhtFBv81k9VvI9OnrSwEuuX5YtWSC2aPioDDEX8ujSQpiElUXDCB2uSpXPk6OKjO5xyDwDqNf9aoRl5EJE/s1600-h/New_Brighton.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7A1EMcBr4KsyhYGZBZtDuSZ_MRyemzaQHxmL1Fo8DqUv-0VZ0higZffilIkhtFBv81k9VvI9OnrSwEuuX5YtWSC2aPioDDEX8ujSQpiElUXDCB2uSpXPk6OKjO5xyDwDqNf9aoRl5EJE/s400/New_Brighton.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251607480261659650" border="0" /></a>Usually to finish a day I would head to South New Brighton beach, in the picture to the left. I lived a block away from this 4-5 mile strip of beautiful sandy dunes and witnessed a number of beautiful sunsets and sunrises during filming excursions to the area. This particular sunset was one of my favorites. I would try to catch the sun and the clouds at just the right time each day to allow for the best photograph. This day had what are called Northwesterlies, stiff winds that blow offshore for days on end, much like the infamous Santa Anas that church up fires at the end of summer in California.<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5026925684993737058.post-26394558089483050482008-09-24T17:03:00.000-07:002008-09-24T17:57:38.459-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Arrival to Christchurch</span></span><br /></div>Two months ago I landed in Christchurch. Snow was thick on the mountains, the coastline was stormy, and the days were short. Despite the weather, I set out to see the land and was amazed by the varied landscape. One moment I was traveling through a mountain pass then suddenly would burst out onto a sandy coastline. Other times I would find myself passing from flat grassland to temperate rainforests in mere minutes. The impressive array of natural places this country houses in such a small space still continues to surprise me. Below is a photo of an estuary near Christchurch, what I eventually learned to be a prime location for viewing the ever-changing sunsets and watching wildlife.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVnLrp_DIcGxACiMhyuxBx8vuOBJXUt9bi5zq6NMYT-cabMDz0K6645DfZAavdYDTfbZj7jDBbeFjFI0C5E7wJlDxECm_z6XWxXMBozNHzl2aeUnYwjQFihVMGirlG8deW_G1bPOMiTXs/s1600-h/NB_Sunrise_Panorama.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVnLrp_DIcGxACiMhyuxBx8vuOBJXUt9bi5zq6NMYT-cabMDz0K6645DfZAavdYDTfbZj7jDBbeFjFI0C5E7wJlDxECm_z6XWxXMBozNHzl2aeUnYwjQFihVMGirlG8deW_G1bPOMiTXs/s400/NB_Sunrise_Panorama.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249745209370560882" border="0" /></a><br />Initially I did some exploring of the greater Christchurch area, one day venturing out into the Craigburn National Forest, very close to famous Arthur's Pass, a location in Lord of the Rings. This brief trip opened my eyes to the unforgiving but beautiful landscape that New Zealand more often than not hides beneath long white clouds. I couldn't help but take this picture of the Craigburn Range while on the way back from a rewarding hike to a nearby peak.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TBXk6Tbv7OS3mRMpvIoe36-accsSSWlKm5hFfdV1KCRIn8aBc2kf59HDhRzDJwIX-UBwr9hU6CLBwhuJ17mu_e4zB6GuKDZS6mbhqHBHbZOs0UtCitOwxzB8MUCyOdZyw1GEJUmQM2c/s1600-h/Sunset_Over_The_Craigburns.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TBXk6Tbv7OS3mRMpvIoe36-accsSSWlKm5hFfdV1KCRIn8aBc2kf59HDhRzDJwIX-UBwr9hU6CLBwhuJ17mu_e4zB6GuKDZS6mbhqHBHbZOs0UtCitOwxzB8MUCyOdZyw1GEJUmQM2c/s400/Sunset_Over_The_Craigburns.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249746200604760866" border="0" /></a><br />This third picture is very close to where I stayed for the first week in Christchurch. In the background of this picture are the Port Hills, a long row of grass-topped peaks that line the south-western border of the city and command stunning views of Cantebury and the South Pacific. The lights on the hill belong to the suburb of Sumner, reflecting off the saline waters of the Te Huingi Manu Wildlife Refuge and McCormack's Bay.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyphenhyphenxlfW8MbwLxHaegMnvmdXxPrER0OFuKEaHHC21fJgmwV43eQ3INV7cC8m16FlEVeJdBWmvu9hH2BRIVVBuR4Qw0nkky1uhRy0JWRNl22Z5C4mhPWHdlUffAk-jXEjtImf9wo4YgtN2E/s1600-h/Sumner_Reflection.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyphenhyphenxlfW8MbwLxHaegMnvmdXxPrER0OFuKEaHHC21fJgmwV43eQ3INV7cC8m16FlEVeJdBWmvu9hH2BRIVVBuR4Qw0nkky1uhRy0JWRNl22Z5C4mhPWHdlUffAk-jXEjtImf9wo4YgtN2E/s400/Sumner_Reflection.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249746442062996242" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I hope you enjoyed this initial post. I have tens of photos, videos, and stories still to share but will save them for another day. See you soon!<br /></div></div><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com