The Iwa Jima of Dublin.

Walking down Grafton street. I saw this phone box bent over.

I had walked around town for four hours already and got nothing, and now finally something of intrest.

So I waited to see if anything would happen.

Eventually these blokes showed up to to lend a helping hand to Dublin county council.

With no great war to fight in our modern age of peace, we must fight our own Iwa Jima.

Despite their valiant efforts the flag was never raised. And they walked home in defeat.

On the LUAS train home I noticed these reflections in the window of the other passengers. It's like an Abstract Double exposure on film.
All shots with a Nikon f3 on Fuji Neopan 400 developed in d-76.

The Road to Flagstaff

On my exodus flight to Phoenix, I was seated in a center seat between one thin well dressed man and to my right was someone so obese I'm suprised he didn't book two seats for himself. He moved his girth in my direction and asked was I from Australia, commonly I get mistaken for Scottish or Aussie when in the US. I said I'm from Ireland his eyes glazed over with a look of puzzlement. "Where about's that", I reply "It's beside England". I can tell he is nodding his head out of politeness to fake interest in European geography, although he seems to be cracking a smirk almost repressing a laugh. Being from an obscure country in his opinion seems to funny. When I enquire where he is from he says Nebraska. I know about as much as Nebraska, as knows about Ireland. Although not to sound too superior, at least in Ireland we've had a few notable wars, some alcoholic writers, and invented good whiskeys and stouts. Enough to get our own day on March 17th. While Nebraska on the other hand has done, well eh.......... If anyone should be bemused about someone coming from an obscure place it's me. The conversation quickly ceases.

I know I know, it's such a cliche, talking about Americans knowledge of geography is like finding a piss head in Temple bar on a Saturday night. Besides the average Irish celtic tiger cub is ten times worse, a friend of mine who's a teacher says half his students can't find Ireland there own bloody country on a map.

An hour passes without incident. The man left to me looks very clean cut and is reading the best selling book of all time. Shortly before landing, we strike up a conversation, he ask's where am I going, I say from phone airport to catch a shuttle bus to Flagstaff. By coincidence he is heading to Flagstaff as well, and politely offers me a lift in the rental he has already booked. I decline intially but when collecting my bagage I agree as long as I can buy him lunch. To give credit where it's due, fair play to him for giving me a lift. Considering I do look like a cereal killer. Although by his clean image maybe he's a murderer, it's always the one you least expect. When at the rental depot, the parking attendant tells us no car's are left except for a red Mustang convertible with 2000 mileage. All for the price of a compact. What a stroke of luck this is. He looks at me and Exclaims "that's not Luck, thats god's doing".
What ensued was one of the most interesting 4 hours of conversation I've ever had. He was a Christian pastor going to Flagstaff to start a bible school because (according to him) Flagstaff is a secular liberal stronghold. His group originally came from Arkansas. Red convertibles somehow don't quite suit his demeanor more a gangster or yuppie boy racer.

Meeting people like him is precisely the reason one should be a traveler and not a tourist, to converse and exchange ideas with someone who is completely different from you. I've always wanted to meet a pro bush republican from the bible belt (seriously) to hear what they have to say. Although at first I had visions of him driving me to some compound where I would be brain washed into joining some pro gun militia, fortunately that never happened. What did happen was lengthy conversations on life, universe and everything.

He would call himself a bible literalist, where everything in the old testament literally happened, from Adam and Eve to Noah's ark. And God exact's punishment accordingly in a physical form by floods etc, to right the wrong's of sinful places. Therefore America is rich and powerful because it is a holy and christen place, while other country's starve because they are godless. That's why Hurricane Katrina came down as punishment for Mardi Gras. At this point I didn't want to tell him about my trips to Amsterdam, just in case he might think the car would be struck by lightning, and he'd throw me out on the roadside.

When we did get to talk about the war in Iraq, (according to him) it is going badly because America elected Bill Clinton in the 90's, a sinful man, and now god is punishing a good president like Bush. We stopped to have lunch in place he likes called Fuddruckers, is it just me, or is there a perverse double meaning in that name. A drunk man came to our table and asked for water and stumbled out again, my new travelling partner told me he was probably from a reservation.

When I told him about Clinton brokering the Northern Ireland good Friday agreement, and how evil men don't do things like that, he replied the bible tell's us even God can use evil men as tools for good. His jaw drooped when I told him in Ireland Clinton is viewed as a Saint while Bush is seen very much as the anti Christ. Clinton got a blow job behind his wife's back, but he brokered some of the most amazing foreign policy deals of any US president (although I can't speak for what he did in his home country as I don't live there), Bush on the other hand, well where to even begin possibly the worst foreign relations disaster in recent history of any country in the world right now is his responsibility. But at least he never got his dick sucked behind his wifes back (as far as we know).

I try to explain about Gilgamesh, and how Noah's ark is based on the old Babylonian legend, and my various other beliefs on how the world really works, that I don't believe anyone neither priest nor scientist.

Desert and flat plains then gives way to mountain and snow covered forest, finally I've reached Flagstaff where I've arrange to meet my friend Jamie at his work. It then occurs to me the diversity of America, not just in it's physical landscape where in the space of a few hours drive I've seen a whole change in climate, but in it's people. The person I'm about to meet is as completely opposite as the man who just gave me a lift, as the desert around Phoenix is as different to the Forests and mountains of Flagstaff. I'm sick of hearing negative stereotypes about Americans, like that they're all fat, then why does it have some of the best athletes in the world, or that Americans are stupid then how come they've the best engineers and scientists in the world. A place of such extremes can not be stereotyped.

I pull up at Jamie's work in the Mustang, and bid far well to the pastor and thank him for the lift. He tells that was the most interesting conversation he'd had in a long time, I tell him likewise.

Imaging USA 2007 San Antonio.

The Worst part of any journey besides the preparation, is the waiting at airports, although the same applies for seaports, or any kind of god forsaken port.
But I am always amused by run ins with custom officials, minds that can’t think outside there bureaucratic box are entertaining to deal with. When browsing the US travel visa form, there is a question asking were you involved in any nazi human rights abuses between 1939 to 1945. Considering I was born in 1979, I tick no. Other questions include are you entering this country to deal drugs, commit terrorism etc. Somehow I don’t think the people they are trying to filter out will answer yes to any of the above.

The US customs official begins to ask me the usual questions she’s enquired a thousand times before, without enthusiasm. She snaps out of her stupor when thumbing through the stamps in my passport, she comes across some Arabic writing, god forbid…. Oh sorry Allah forbid I ever travel to country where they speak Arabic. She asks what country these are from. I say Morocco. When were you over there, I reply last year. Was it nice, I say yes. I resist the urge for sarcasm, since paranoid customs officials are not known for their sense of Irony.
When finally waiting at the boarding gate I’m looking at the plane, yet the terminal sign is blinking delayed. After two hours waiting for a plane that’s already landed, I spot flashing lights on the runway. Apparently a group of immigrants being deported had escaped from police custody and ran across the runway so all planes landing, had to be ordered to circle the airport. They rounded up most of them but from what I hear one of them is on the loose.

Finally I have the usual colon cleansing food to look forward to, followed by some sentimental drivel starring Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves, something about time travelling love letters. I didn’t quite catch the films name as I was too busy smashing my head against the reinforced window in an effort to induce sleep.

By the time I got to New Wark my connecting flight to Texas had gone so I had to wait 8 hours for the next flight, which in turn was also delayed. Some airline rep tells me “Oh You missed your flight go over there to book the next connecting one” what’s this YOU business that implies it was my fault.


When I take this picture, an airport worker taps me on the shoulder and tells me security might confiscate my camera if they see me. I took photos at Dublin Airport, what’s the problem here. I bought it off ebay for 60 Euro, so I’m not particularly worried. Asking the reason why, he tells it’s for security reasons. I later checked this out, and found out he was talking complete bullshit, they can do no such thing.
I don’t really see the logic in that, how dumb tourists taking snaps of a waiting terminal can jeopardise the facilities safety. Unless they’re using photos of people eating in cafes or on escalators to plan attacks.

After the Marathon of delays and flights I finally arrive in San Antonio. I didn’t know what to expect, all I knew about it was the Alamo and that’s all. I thought it would be a small town with cowboys chewing tobacco, but instead it was easily one of the nicest American cities I’ve ever been to. The River Walk area had a real cosmopolitan feel to it almost European. With clean streets and friendly people.

Outside my hotel was a really old school theatre called the majestic.

The Famous Alamo.

A screaming brat I know how he feels.

This sign was outside a tourism info office? The wild west Baby.

Stuffed rabbits with Antlers, a slice of Americana?

Some Fucking Clown.

Some kids on these crazy motor thingy's, I have no Idea what they are on.

A cowboy deep in thought. The only cowboy I ever saw in Texas.

Henry B Gonzales Convention Centre. Where the magic happens.

Inside this stair case looks like a giant number 2. Spotted leaveing the mens room.

When I think of San Antonio I think of stairs.

More crazy ass stairs. I waited ages for someone to walk down them. No Dice.

Ghosts on the river walk.

The River walk.

M.C Escher must have been here. Pity the light was shit I’d say this looks cool in summer.

My bad luck did continue, a freak weather storm hit the south west US. The first day the climate was already taking a turn for the worst, but I could still walk around and get a feel for the city.
My parents had spent a few days already there before the convention, and said the weather was lovely till I arrived. That’s what I get for being a cheapskate.

When I woke for the first day of the convention the television announced roads around the city were already being closed, and over the next few days it got worse where even schools and public buildings closed.

The Convention itself was a photo geeks wet dream. The range of booth and wares on offer was astounding, although the majority were sporting snake oil.

The talks and lectures were also of huge variety, that ranged from either outstanding to walking out half way through.

The only time this guy will ever get a model on her back.

This Girl just collapsed in the middle of the floor.

Other People exhausted by it all.

Amanda http://evlrose.deviantart.com/and Eugene at the Photo express booth.

The Leica booth. If I ever win the lottery I’ll buy some of there stuff.

The second day I met Mark http://markgreenbergphoto.com/, Darrenhttp://www.darrenabate.com/, and Davehttp://davegarcia.deviantart.com/. Couldn’t meet up with them for pints later due to the road closures. Besides most business’s in the city closed because no staff showed up.
Needless to say I did go out drinking with some well known Irish photographers. Who I’ll be blackmailing when I get home, thats all I'll say.

The final Imaging USA Awards Ceremony. 3 hours of Hell.

Although Abraham Lincoln did rise from the dead to attend the ceremony.

Me and Barbara were the last people in the convention, to be hanging about till security threw us out. She's a photographer from Italy.

A frozen palm tree in Texas?

My original plan was for a road trip across Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California. But the prospect of that Happening was beginning to look grim. Nearly all major roads and highways out of the city were shut down.
So flying across to Arizona was my best option, and to leave New Mexico to another trip.
It cost an outrageous booking fee to book the flight in 24 hours notice. My only good bit of travel luck so far was that my flight was only about one of the three flights that were not delayed or cancelled.
So Arizona was next, less words more pictures.