Hello All! Nope, I didn't forget cha. Just working 'round da clock, you know. But lest you be unentertained, I come bearing gifts: Photos from our wedding in Venezuela. You know, it's funny. Lena and I spend our lives covering the lavish, beautiful events of our clients and now we have been the bride and groom a lavish event of our own, at the very epicenter of a wild balls-out party of mythic size and scope. Not that I'm going to set up an advice column or anything, but it's probably good experience for a wedding photographer to have! I have a lot to say about the wedding, but as I'll tell anyone who asks, the photos always come first.

Am I taking a risk publishing these images? Maybe. On the other hand, all you people who are thinking of hiring us, isn't it nice to know we are people, too? People who know how to party? People who enjoy a celebration and understand the reason behind every crazy moment? We're in love, too, Lena and I, and there is nothing in this world as wonderful to photograph as two people in love. A wedding day is a story, a story about two people, their families, friends and how much their relationship.

Here is a snapshot of ours. Peace. --Notes







































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Opening Word: Black and White, But Not Yin and Yang

Hello blogfans. I apologize for the terrible reliability of this blog. It doesn’t help that I’ve been on the move for the last week without internet of any kind. The resort in Punto Fijo promised internet, but didn’t deliver it, citing the rain. The rain cleared, but three days later there still was no internet. So be it.

For the next few weeks I will be giving my account of Venezuela in a series of updates revolving around a variety of subjects I have no decided on but might probably be these: Food, Driving, Government, People, Land, My Family, The Wedding, The Future, in no particular order.

First, let me say that there is no substitute for international travel, particularly when you can achieve the level of penetration and exposure that I have experienced here. It’s humbling, massively humbling trying to get by with pidgeon Spanish and a bird’s eye view of the culture. Everything changes, and no, there’s no chance you can wing it with grace. The only solution is to open your mind and heart to the culture, and just as a hurricane will shape an island, you will go home a different person. Try to fight the hurricane and it will wipe you off the map.

Venezuela and her people have made a massive impression on me. It is a country of unimaginable contrasts. What’s more, I cannot help but compare the experience to Korea, which only highlights the contrasts. I feel that Venezuela and Korea’s different relationship to the United States has a major part to play in this contrast, a difference I am only beginning to grasp.

One night a week ago I had one of those life-defining moments when the impact of a choice I made comes home. I’ve had similar experiences in the past: Feelings of insecurity and anxiety when the enormity of my decisions came home to roost.

Usually, this moment comes much, much earlier. When I was hiking the Appalachian Trail, it came a week after the beginning, 50 miles into a 2176-mile journey. Oh my God, I thought, I have 2057 more miles to walk. Walk! However, the feeling was as exhilarating as it was frightening. When I began working for the small newspaper in Hattiesburg the feeling was terrible because I had never set any goals in my photojournalism career. I had no idea how many miles I had left to walk. Not two days into that job I began to feel the itch to leave it, an itch that eventually grew into a rash of disillusion and boredom that eventually pushed me to buy a ticket to Korea. In Korea, it hit me on the train from Inchon to Busan: Holy crap, what the hell have I done? I don't know anything about English!

Here in Venezuela, the full impact of my decision to marry Lennalba sat on my bed that night and shoke me awake. In the dark, freezing cold of the EuroBuilding my eyes snapped open and I starred into reality: This was the biggest commitment I have ever made, for it is a commitment not to me or Lennalba alone, but also to God. It is a commitment of my life, a commitment that must be kept every day, in every way, without fail. It is a commitment that does not even end when I die. Lena and I are now one person, one soul, one life, for eternity.

This is not to say I am afraid of the commitment. I love my wife. I love her for so many reasons, and it is easy for me to say that I am prepared to take any steps necessary to make this marriage run like a Kenyan. I want my children to inherit the rich cultural heritage I’m only beginning to know myself.

And so my trip to Venezuela has not been one of just plain ole’ vanilla tourism. This is now my second home, and every day my eyes are open like a baby, watching, listening and learning. Whereas in Korea I had the luxury of creating a pocket of America and living in it wholly apart from the language and culture because I knew one day I’d get on an airplane and leave it all behind. I have no such luxury here. Half my family lives in Venezuela, I have met them and love them and they love me. Many of them have asked me if I would live in Venezuela, and I know Lena would like nothing better because she has asked me numerous times. I wouldn’t mind, either, but there are some mountains to climb first.

Yet in the back of my head reality spins: This country is in the hands of a mad man. All you hippie types who harbor delusions that Venezuela as some sort of happy socialist promised land take note: There is no rule of law here. Most murders go completely uninvestigated. If you want out of a drinking and driving ticket, just bribe your police officer. If I were an anarchist, this is where I’d plan my retirement.

So how will the rest of my life go? How will I build a life and a living under a government that views capitalism as some sort of disease? What can I do to effect positive change here? Which American values should I pack in my suitcase each time I come, and which should I leave behind? One day soon I will return to Venezuela not as a tourist, but as a citizen. What kind of Venezuelan citizen do I want to be?

The following chapters are more than a blog, they are an attempt to analyze this unpolished gem in the crown of South America, an attempt to come to terms with a commitment I have made but don’t completely understand. Many of the things I will describe and explain are only my opinion, not fact, and I know that as I grow and get to know Venezuela, she will reveal more of her secrets to me, and probably most of the things that I write here will become old and outdated.

Still, knowledge never sits still. So sit back, relax and explore Venezuela with me. I hope you come to love it as I have come to love it.