Apr
17

The easter clowns of Ellingssetra

For the Easter holiday I went to my dad’s farm on the west coast of Norway to relax. My three youngest siblings live there and my oldest little brother and older brother came as well. Which meant that for the first time in at least a year and a half, all six of us siblings where gathered at the same place at the same time, which called for a clown shoot! All of them have been clowns at least once (the latest being my older brother and Elisabeth in Northern Norway), but never before have all of us been clowns together. My dad, stepmom and older brother’s girlfriend joined in as well, as we went up to the little cabin a bit further up in the mountains (traditionally used as a summer farm where people stayed with the animals for the summer), smothered on some make-up and took pictures, before having a snow racing competition on the way down (still as clowns of course, there is a video of this, but I’m not the one sitting on the material!).

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Feb
21

The freezing clowns of the Lofoten Islands

My mother, brother, his girlfriend and I went north to visit family in Harstad. It being Elisabeth’s first time up north, we decided to do a day trip to the gorgeous Lofoten islands (where I haven’t been in at least ten years I think, and never before during winter, I hope I don’t wait ten years until next time). The day started out decently nice, but this being Norway, and the north neither less, we ended up with a nice little snow storm. By the end it was snowing sideways, the wind was freezing cold and you couldn’t keep your eyes open if you faced the wrong direction. Perfect for a clown shoot!

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Feb
16

The lost clown of Berlin

I went on a little weekend-trip to Berlin, indulging in everything Latin-American even though I was in Germany (did I mention that I miss Colombia?), and of course I had to do a clown shoot as well. This is Moyra, a wonderful Peruvian girl I got to know when she stayed at our house in Bogotá for a week last autumn. The lost clown, all alone in the big foreign city. Isn’t she adorable?

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Jan
20

Parque Utria and El Valle on the Pacific coast of Colombia

After walking along the shallow river for almost an hour, wading through the clear water, with thick green foliage at each side, we reach the little waterfall. It isn’t especially big, and as waterfalls go, neither especially impressive. But the setting, with the lush rainforest surrounding us, the natural pool at its feet, feeding into the river, it is perfect. As we swim to the other side of the pool, climb up the rocks, trying not to slip on the treacherous moss, we see there is more to the waterfall than first meets the eye. There is another little pool and waterfall waiting. Soon we are splashing around in the cool, crystal clear water, and using the waterfall as a slide.

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– There is another waterfall, a proper one, a lot bigger further up the river. But we’d have to spend a full day just to see that one; it’s about three hours walking each way. Not many people know about it, and very few tourists go there.

I don’t have a hard time believing our guide, there aren’t many tourists venturing to these parts of Colombia to begin with: these parts being the Pacific coast. And those who do normally don’t venture far into this part of the national park of Utría. They are mainly here for whale watching. And now there are no whales. During my days in El Valle (which translates to “the valley”, which I guess doesn’t really describe a coastal place), other than the few backpackers staying at my hostel, I haven’t seen a single other tourist.

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Both el Valle and Parque Utría are located in the region of Chocó. The department stretches from just north of the city of Buenaventura, considered one of the most dangerous cities in all of Colombia, along the Pacific coast and the along the border with Panama, before it reaches the Caribbean coast. It is a region that sports rainforests more bio diverse than the Amazon, and, supposedly, the wettest place on earth. The coastline, maybe not as picture-perfect as its Caribbean cousin, is stunning in its ruggedness. In some areas, especially around El, Valle, Parque Utriá and Nuquí, humpback whales can be seen with their calves straight from the beach during whale season, running from June to October. It has so much to offer and it’s tranquil, so why aren’t there more tourists you may ask?

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One reason is its remoteness. But more importantly is that the region has been plagued by violence and conflict for decades. It is one of the most conflict-ridden regions in the country. The region is beautiful and rich in natural resources but it is also one of the poorest in all of Colombia. The population seems to have been completely forgotten by the government for ages. Infant mortality is sky high, way higher than the national average, there are few jobs and opportunities, many parts are cut off from the rest of Colombia and only reachable by small planes or boats.

Its remoteness’ both, physically and politically, the abundance of valuable natural resources, and desperation of the population, has made it a perfect place for harbouring and recruiting guerrilla soldiers, paramilitaries, and drug smugglers. In 2002, 119 civilians were killed in the little remote town of Bojayá when they ended up in the crossfire between the guerrilla group FARC and the paramilitary group of AUC.

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(The little plane I took between Quibdo and Bahia Solano. Only the government run airline Satena flies to the remote places of Chocó).

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(The airport in Bahia Solano)

Even though it’s one of the wettest places on earth, the region capital of Quibdo lacks drinkable water, due to the high number of illegal gold mines contaminating the rivers around. It is yet another example of the duality, the contrast of the stunning beauty of nature, and the uglier parts of the nature of man that, sadly, can be found all over Colombia. The richness of natural resources, and the greed and desperation that make people kill to control it.

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(Quibdo, the capital of the Chocó region as seen from above, and some of the many, many open mines surrounding it).

But here, in the secluded woods of Parque Utría, everything seems calm and peaceful. At some point some monkeys cross the river, using some touching trees over our heads as a bridge. The waters at the white sand beach are teeming with small fishes swimming in synchrony and in a blissful ignorance of Colombia’s problems. In the little town of El Valle, yes, we could see some poverty. Like the little boy in shredded clothes dragging a little play “car” made out of a used soda bottle. But in general I just get the impression of a sleepy little village with an abundance of smiles and laughter around. The only real reminder of the region’s problems is the newly stationed military post at the edges of town, controlling every boat heading out towards the sea.

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We’re not quite sure why they are there. Maybe they are trying to hinder fishermen going out looking for packets of cocaine floating around in the water, thrown out of smuggling boats when they spot the coastal guard. Maybe it has something to do with the FARC attack on the tourist island of Gorgona, further south on the Pacific coast of Colombia, south of Buenaventura, where one police officer was killed some months earlier than my trip. It was the first FARC attack on an island in the history of Colombia´s armed conflict. Gorgona was considered a safe place, and received tourists even during the most turbulent of times. Maybe for this reason, maybe for that, we don’t know. The only thing we do know is that they weren’t there the day before, according to our guide.

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And even with them there the conflict doesn’t seem to real, as when we return to El Valle in the afternoon, the off duty soldiers are playing with a flock of kids checking out their new neighbours. Throwing each other around in the mud, splashing in the water. Showing that we are all just humans, small pieces in a bigger game outside of our control.

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My last morning I wake up early. The rain has been hammering on the tin roof above us for most part of the night, but now it’s quiet. I climb silently out of my hammock and barefooted I walk down the pebbled little path that leads through the hostel grounds. Feeling the hard round stones against my skin. In the pitch-dark I walk past the little huts, past the main house, and then I’m out on the beach, out in the open. The big rugged rocks jut up from the sand as solid black shadows, a slight shade darker than the darkness that surrounds them.

I climb up on one of the rocks; watch out over the ocean, into the horizon. Soundless lightning repeatedly strike down somewhere in the water, far, far away. Lightning without thunder. I watch mesmerized while listening to the comforting sound of the breaking waves.

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At some point the darkness slowly starts to recede, giving way to more details, more colours. Two women walk briskly past without noticing me. A feeling of tranquillity washes over me, of peace, of fulfilment. I realize I have way too few of these moments normally, in the city, in everyday life. I just don’t take the time to savour the small things, the sound of waves, or the wind, the rustling of leaves, a moment of silence, a glimpse of the stars on a clear night, a bird perched on a branch outside my window. Always surrounded by distractions, begging my attention. Always that nagging feeling that I have to do something.

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At this moment a selfish wish materializes in my head, which usually happens whenever I end up at one of these hidden paradises, these beautiful virgin places not yet ruined by tourism and progression: that the place will forever stay like this.

That one day, I will be able to come back and enjoy its tranquillity, all by myself. Even though I wish the conflict will end, and I know that the end of the conflict equals more tourism, and tourism might be a means of economic growth for the forgotten corner of Colombia (though most probably it just means lots of foreigners will by up land and fuck the locals over, and corruption will allow the construction of non-sustainable hotels and complexes, fucking the delicate nature, with lots of species that can only be found here, over) a part of me wishes this place to stand still in time, forever and ever and ever. And one day I will come back and watch the whales from the beach.

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Nov
8

The clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

I love how life is made up of all these tiny little coincidences that might take you in one direction or the other, meeting the right people at the right time in the right circumstances. During my 10 months living in Bogota (8 if you subtract my summer holiday…) I have been living in three different apartments, but I guess all those other places were just for me to finally end up in this great house in the neighborhood of Teusaquillo, with the most amazing and including and artistic of people.

When I contacted Lau in March, after seeing her message looking for Norwegians to practice her Norwegian with on the Bogota short term rental group on Facebook, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I had no idea that not only would we meet up and realize we had tons of stuff in common (both are photographers for example), but that we would also end up being roomies some months later.

clowns of Teusaquillo

I only met her that one time – life, university and other stuff came in the way – but when the contract ended on the apartment I was living in (there were problems renewing it and we were thrown out with a three day notice when I was in the middle of writing my final projects for my university classes…) right before I headed out of Bogota for my summer holidays, I was thinking of Laura, and I remembered her saying she lived in a wonderful house. I didn’t contact her before I was in Mexico, traveling, after all I didn’t really know her, but when I started realizing that it would absolutely suck coming back to Bogota and having to spend time looking for yet another apartment, I realized it couldn’t hurt to ask if she had a room available. By some work of faith, she actually did.

So I want you to meet the amazing people that I have, in some way or other been sharing this house with the last couple of months, from the people I’m living with to the guys having their workshop in the house – as clowns, obviously!

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

clowns of Teusaquillo

Oct
30

The clown of Valle de Cocora

Clown of Valle de Cocora

I first met Corinna almost 4 years ago, in the little town of Pai in northern Thailand. We were a little crew of people that kept on traveling together, splitting up and meeting up again for a couple of weeks. From Pai through Laos. It pretty much culminated with a little motorbike trip from Pakse to Tad Lo in Laos where we had a clown shoot with bikes, and “hijacked” an elephant. Only problem was that Corinna couldn’t join. While we were photographing away and having fun, she was laying sick in her bungalow.

Clown of Valle de Cocora

So when Corinna told me she would come to Colombia and visit me on her South-America trip I knew we had to make a clown shoot. We traveled together for about a week, visiting Salento and Valle de Cocora in Colombia’s coffee district – where we did our clowning while hiking trough the beautiful valley, kind of getting “lost” and fighting our way through thick undergrowth and extremely steep hills just because we didn’t want to backtrack when one of the side paths we took ended in nothing (I wonder when I’m gonna learn that my shortcuts never ever turn out to be actual shortcuts…) – before heading off to Medellín and Guatape, and in the end I sent her off on her own to fall in love with Colombia and South America!

Corinna the clown of Valle de Cocora:

Clown of Valle de Cocora

Clown of Valle de Cocora

Clown of Valle de Cocora

Clown of Valle de Cocora

Clown of Valle de Cocora

Oct
13

The clown of Palenque

Clown of Palenque

It’s difficult standing in a place like the Maya ruins of Palenque, in the Chiapas-region south in Mexico, and trying to visualize how it all was and how it all looked like, bustling with life, houses and people, over a thousand years ago. Now the jungle has swallowed it all up, almost, and just some of the reconstructed buildings give a slight impression of how it all might have been a long, long time ago. Before the Mayas left the city, before the jungle claimed it’s space back.

Clown is the wonderful Hope, the clown of Palenque, from the United States.

Clown of Palenque

Clown of Palenque

Clown of Palenque

Clown of Palenque

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Clown of Palenque

Clown of Palenque

Clown of Palenque

Sep
10

Lake Atitlan – The prettiest lake in the world?

San Marcos de la laguna

Lake Atitlan, the most stunningly beautiful lake in the world, well definitely among the prettiest lake I have seen in my life. And I’m not the only person to think so. Aldous Huxley (the writer of the amazing dystopia “A brave new world” – a book everyone should read – for those who don’t know him) once wrote: “Lake Como, it seems to me, touches on the limit of permissibly picturesque, but Atitlán is Como with additional embellishments of several immense volcanoes. It really is too much of a good thing.” Too much of a good thing, I don’t know if that is even possible. The only thing I do know is that I ended up spending longer time along the lake and it’s looming volcanoes than I originally planned, about two weeks to be exact – diving, doing yoga, learning food fermenting, hiking, meditating, drawing, reading, in general a lot of relaxing – and I wouldn’t have had any problems spending longer. If I ever end up doing one of those yoga-teacher things (not necessarily for actually teaching yoga) outside of India, this is the place I’d like to do it.
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