I’m a Social Media Survivor. It’s been more than a month since I abandoned all of my Social Media channels and platforms. And there’s been absolutely no struggle whatsoever to make use of the time I’ve reclaimed. I do think of friends and family on Facebook and Instagram from time to time. And yes, I can get a little curious about what they’re up to. But the obstreperous level of sharing, the ridiculous amount of selfies and trivialities quickly reminds me of how much of their lives is actually spent – wastefully – on feeding an apparent addiction.

If our species survives for another 200 years or so (I’m still optimistic), I wonder what future anthropologists, socialogists and psychologists will have to say about this odd epoch and what impact Social Media had on our (in)ability to focus and grasp significant, pertinent matters that need collective attention.

This piece is aptly called “Which Switch?”. It’s based on a photo shot somewhere within an old industrial workshop in Malmö, Sweden. I’ve sold it in varying sizes and on different materials, but I wonder if the visual appeal of those that have bought it is at least partially aligned with my initial concept of what it means to have too many choices and the mental stress from chronic ambiguity.

I was recently once again invited to the juried exhibition arranged by the cultural association MKK during Malmö Gallery Night 2020. Last year’s show went really well with a steady stream of visitors and four works sold. Looking forward to participating again with new pieces. Now all I have to do is create them…

After discovering a water leakage from the ceiling of our old apartment here on Calle Los Negros (yeah, I hate the name too, apparently, the street we live on right now is where the first emancipated African slaves were allowed to settle, which doesn’t explain why it’s still called “The Blacks”) we were offered a new place further down the hallway. While it won’t ever win a prize for its interior decorating, it’s undeniably bigger, brighter and has two bathrooms. Not sure if we’ll be allowed to make the switch permanently or, if not, how long we’ll be able to stay in this new place. We are, after all, in Spain where Captain Whimsical and General Mañana still rule the land. But for now, we’ve never been more comfortable in Malaga.

Update: we have to move out tomorrow…but as compensation, we’ve been offered a smaller and darker apartment with only one bathroom. And if we’re really lucky, the new flat will be even closer to where the building’s ongoing construction is best heard and felt. So there you go.

It was certainly a long-haul, but a surprisingly smooth ride traveling to Málaga from Bangkok via Copenhagen. Not a single hitch or glitch along the way. We even managed to sleep 9 hours straight our first night as residence here in Andalusia.

There doesn’t seem to be much tourism in Málaga this time of year. Which is just fine for us as it’ll provide an opportunity to get to know the city before the inexorable tourist season kicks in.

The above piece was created from a dozen or so images I shot during last year’s visit to Málaga. In the middle of the collage is a young Chinese tween I saw outside of a hotel, possibly waiting for a taxi or an Uber.

Her head was slightly bent downwards, as if she was in deep prayer. Her eyes entranced on whatever was happening on the giant screen she held in her tiny, bleak hand.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a solo Chinese tourist before.

This is from last night’s “Burrito, Salsa and Guacamole Workshop” at our favorite café, Puna Coffee, eloquently captured by Charlotte. I enjoyed being in their tiny kitchen, chopping, slicing, and frying. Above all, it was great working together with the owners, sharing my recipes, listening to some of their histories and getting a glimpse into their lives. The veggie burritos, guacamole, and salsa were all-around appreciated. A little disappointed that the only tortilla chips I could find were of the horrendous Doritos kind. Even when saturated with my homemade salsa and guacamole could I get the artificial favoring to subside a little. As a kid, I loved munching on Doritos. Now, knowing how chock full of chemicals and unnatural ingredients they are made of, I feel ashamed to buy, let alone consume them.

After three months here, I have mixed feelings about Da Nang (and the neighboring town of Hoi An). It’s definitely an interesting place. Much more so than I was expecting. And except for those on the roads, most folks here are friendly. It’s certainly been easy living during our stay. For sure. None of the stuff we wanted to leave behind us in Malmö has been missed. Well, I do actually miss the cooking a little.

Conveniences aside, there’s always been a looming awareness of our stay’s provisionality. Maybe it’s because of how we’re living; in a fairly fancy “aparthotel” that perhaps makes it impossible to feel like you’re anything but just another ephemeral expat.

I don’t think I’ve come to any groundbreaking conclusions about the future while we’ve been here. But I do think the soul searching I’ve undertaken has been healthy. As has the Tai Chi training, almost daily yoga classes and laps in the gym’s pool.

One thing has become incredibly clear to me during the fall here, though. The awareness level of the planet’s health or even a rudimentary understanding of what environmental sustainability entails, doesn’t exist individually, or, as far as I can tell, anywhere in the collective consciousness. It’s a bit frightening, but I also get why this is, though.

Most folks are way too occupied with trying to create a reasonably comfortable life for themselves and their families to be able to accommodate such a complex and controversial narrative as, for example, the one Greta Thunberg represents. And herein lies the most challenging intellectual dilemma of our times; explaining to folks in both developing (and developed) nations that if the prognosis is even partially correct, in order for human existence on the Earth to survive long-term, we need to redefine what is essential to our lives and the lives of generations to come – and then strike a balance in relation to the environmental costs and debts involved. A tall order, I know. Heck, I haven’t even come close to figuring how to fit these thoughts into my life. So it’s no big surprise that nobody here has a clue. Sadly, everybody (myself including) seems either oblivious or way too busy glooming and dooming to even ponder changing. Is it just like the metaphorical deer caught in the headlights at night? Is reality so paralyzingly blinding that a collision is just unavoidable? I certainly hope not.

For about a month, we’ve been pretty much alone on the beach during our early morning Tai Chi practice. As the weather is slowly improving, producing one spectacular sunrise after another, there’s a considerable influx of photographers, joggers, surfers and as seen from the shot above from this morning, a bunch of yogis. As great as it looks and as much as I love practicing yoga on a daily basis, sand is certainly not my preferred yoga surface. For the past month, I’ve practiced yoga 6-7 days a week. The gym doesn’t offer any classes on Sundays, but there’s a couple of spaces on the roof of our building that almost seem purpose-built for yoga. Plus, you get a marvelous 360-degree view of bustling Da Nang below. The shot to the right is from yesterday afternoon’s session.

Anyway, today, I thought I’d share a breakdown of my daily routine:
05:10 am – first alarm rings
05:20 am – second alarm rings
05: 30 am – out the front door and on the street with my computer under one arm and accessories in a beige canvas bag across my shoulder. At this early hour, there’s very little traffic, which makes it safer to walk directly on the streets instead of on the sidewalks, where potholes, cracks and a general unevenness can easily become life-threatening hazards.
05:45 am – Qigong warm-up exercises before Tai Chi practice begins at…
6:00 am – Instructor Garry Seghers and his dogs Moose and Prince arrive. As soon as Moose is tied to “her” tree, we’ll begin an hourlong Tai Chi session while the sun rises.
07:00 am – walk back from the beach to My An Gym, get undressed and swim 1000 m, half breast and half freestyle. I swim every other day.
8:00 am – showered and ready for breakfast, I head either to Puna Coffee or, Bread ’n Salt where I order an avocado toast and soy milk cappuccino.
8:20 am – the day begins. I’ll typically do a bunch of different things in the course of the next 5-6 hours. Editing footage, sorting photos, writing a post, replying to emails.
04:00 pm – pack my stuff and walk back to the apartment and get ready for the 5:00 pm yoga class.
06:00 pm – I either meet Charlotte at the gym after the yoga class or, we’ll Rendez-Vous at a restaurant for dinner.
08:00 pm – return to the apartment, watch a movie.
10:00 pm – usually sound asleep or dozing off.

Repeat

After an hour of slow but energizing poses, postures and flows on the beach and then a 1000 meter swim at the gym, I’m now at Bread & Salt – our choice of workplace here in Da Nang. And since I get here by 8:00 am, I get to pick the ultimate “poker seat” on the cafés’s spacious second floor.

From the spot above and with the help of a maxed out 2015 Macbook Pro, I edit films and photos, write more or less cohesive thoughts and watch a bunch of lectures and Netflix flix. And I’m just a few feet away from where I can order healthy, terrific tasting food and drinks, or, confer with Charlotte about this or that. What’s not to like about this setup?

Truth be told, I didn’t think I’d be nearly as comfortable (or productive) working from a café on a laptop as I have been – despite all the bugginess that arrived with macOS Catalina. Not that I don’t miss my 27″ iMac with its brilliant, 5k display, 64Gb of RAM and supersonic, 2TB SSD drive. But in all fairness, while that machine is certainly a lot speedier than what these words are being typed on (even Charlotte’s new Macbook Air is arguably faster than this old clunker), the mobility factor compensates far and beyond the speed loss. Plus, I’m probably spending less time on this smaller screen. Which however you slice it, is a good thing.

From yesterday’s film project with Tai Chi teacher Garry Seghers at the beautiful Chùa Bửu Đài Sơn Buddhist temple near where Da Nang’s fishing fleet anchor. Note the ancient symbols arrogated by the Nazi movement seen on either side of the temple’s entrance arch.

I created this image some time ago and it is one of my most downloaded. I have no idea who buys it, such is the world of stock photography. I can only hope that it’s published in a context that jells with my initial conceptual intention. As much as I like the adjective “merry”, to me it projects an image of a tall, elaborately ornamented Christmas tree, anchored with a tremendous amount of brightly colored, gift-wrapped presents. It is, therefore, a great symbol of much of what has gone awry with how we define happiness.

It’s almost December and the multinationals are tooting their horns louder and more frequently, prompting us to once again pony up our hard-earned, unscrupulously taxed income to buy more stuff, so they can fill their coffers and keep Wall Street blissfully happy…

Like most folks, I am a hypocrite. I do not live as I preach. But these days, I try hard to make conscious, eco-friendly decisions whenever and wherever I can. Especially when it’s time to actually consume. I don’t always succeed. Probably not even close to as much as I should or could. For I am weak and addicted to a lifestyle nurtured for over five decades. And so, I often take the easy, instantly gratifying route, instead of seeking out a level of fulfillment that would not only provide me with longer-lasting satisfaction but also be better for the planet.

Climate change, global warming, and the planet’s health issues do not seem to be part of the discourse here in Vietnam. Which is no big surprise. Most folks here can’t afford such seemingly lofty luxuries whilst in survival mode. The same goes for the rest of the developing world.

What is considerably more surprising and worrisome, though, is how the vast majority of people that at least theoretically can both grasp the seismic challenges our species must confront to reverse the awaiting cataclysmic, planetary havoc, and have the practical and financial means to do so, are just turning a blind eye. I obviously include myself among these blind-eye, nay-sayers.

As I view it, the main challenge with reining in rampant consumerism, which includes both stuff we buy for our bodies and homes, as well as food, is the belief that only by continuing our perverse indulgences, can we achieve happiness. In other words, we need to figure out how to be happier with less and yet increase our satisfaction through long-lasting, fulfilling experiences – rather than living life within a sickly cycle of instant gratification – fueled through constant over-consumption of crap – and feeding our bodies with environmentally insane food and drink choices with dubious health advantages.

I think the secret sauce to a successful reversal lies within being focused and intellectually mindful about every choice we make as consumers, and stop making purchases habitually or ritualistically – or, even worse, allowing us to be influenced by anybody or anything other than what our hearts and minds can deduce independently, if we just think a little beforehand. If we simply envision the chain of events that lead up to how or what we choose came into existence – as well as the unavoidable aftermath it generates – we could collectively become a powerful force, and lead by example, a more sustainable life.

I said, “Strike a pose, just like in the Madonna video, Vogue. Remember?”. She looked at me in disbelief, as if I was completely insane and fitting perfectly into the narrative of a typical crazy-ass westerner in Da Nang.

Then she surprised me and muttered, “Eh, which part of the video do you mean?

Flabbergasted, I replied, “Rita Hayworth gave good face, Lauren, Katherine, Lana too. Bette Davis – ladies with an attitude. Don’t just stand there, let’s get to it! Strike a pose, there’s nothing to it!

Groucho Marx once said to a tennis club representative when he wanted to cancel his membership, “I Don’t Want to Belong to Any Club That Will Accept Me as a Member”. I love that quote. And yet, I’ve just joined a club that without hesitation let me in. A club called My An Sport Center. The membership fee for a month is just shy of $50 and includes the pool, gym, all Yoga sessions (5/day) and Zumba classes and a steam room.

I’ve been told that the vast majority of Vietnamese adults can’t swim. Which makes sense. For folks in developing countries, learning how to swim is probably considered a relatively useless skill that most can’t afford even if they understood the benefits. Yesterday it was a fellow from Florida and today I shared the entire pool with a Brittish gentleman. I swam intensely for 30 minutes and left the club feeling invigorated and hungry as a wolf. At first, I was a little hesitant about swimming in a public pool which was likely saturated with chlorine, as opposed to more preferable saltwater pools and even those cleaned with Hydrogen peroxide (H2O2). But I can deal with it, as long as it’s outdoors, where I don’t have to both swim in – and breathe in – chemicals.

As much as I feel mindful, focused and relaxed after a session of Yoga, Qigong and more recently, Tai Chi, I don’t get in nearly as much cardio as I know I need when compared with just 30 laps – alternating between freestyle (crawl) and breaststrokes. Where my shot knees keep me from jogging and more recently surfing, I feel no pain whatsoever while swimming.

As a young teen, I competed for the West Hollywood Park Swim Team (today called the Aquatics) and despite my zodiac sign being closer to Leo than Pisces, I’ve always felt a deep, emotional and physical tie with water. Regardless of activity.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as the saying goes. If I look hard enough, I find there’s something interesting, often beautiful, in just about everything. It’s all about angles and perspectives. Take the gate above as an example. While passing by it the other day, the colors and shapes seemed to call out to me. So I stopped, took out my camera and spent several minutes capturing various parts of it. The faded blue chipped paint, oxidation and the surface’s wear intrigued me. The cracks, crannies, and layers with a thin crust of rust made the gate look so soulful and ready to be hung on or leaned against a wall in a gallery. Much like Marcel Duchamp, I can easily see art in everyday objects, especially when isolated and removed from the intended purposefulness. Defining art is an interesting topic.