Tana Toraja, a small town on the island of Sulawesi, Indonesia provides a glimpse into a very different world that celebrates life and especially death, in some very unique ways.Be warned that some of these photos are disturbing and if you are squeamish about blood and death, you should probably skip this and wait for […]
May
19
A Six Dollar Massage in Bali
posted by Kaire Kalam (That Estonian Girl)
With one hand on my ass for purchase she pulled herself up onto the massage table. I was originally worried that a six dollar massage in a rundown Balinese massage parlor would invite an offer for extra services, but it looked like a quick ending to this slapdash rubdown would be the only possible happy […]
May
17
Sandstorm
posted by Kaire Kalam (That Estonian Girl)
The high-beams of the SUV bounced on the empty two-way highway as we entered Oman. “So where is the camp ground?” asked Foofer, his head appearing between the two front seats. The surrounding flat landscape of sand, rocks, the occasional tree and the shadowy mountain background looked more like an African savannah complete with roaming […]
April
11
A Grain of Sand in the Empty Quarter
posted by Kaire Kalam (That Estonian Girl)
I’ve failed. They still lie there shaking their heads and yawning lazily, despite my numerous attempts to use guilt and humor to get my companions to keep their promise, and tackle the gorgeous but steep 200 meter sand dune together. I am left alone, face to face with the giant. (As seen on Fathom)
March
21
Pakistani Wrestling in Dubai
posted by Kaire Kalam (That Estonian Girl)
Arriving alone, in groups of three, four and more, in flowing traditional kurta shirts and pajama bottoms, linking pinkies, and draping arms over each other, the packs of Pakistani men and their mustaches gathered by the hundreds. They were ready to blow off some steam, entertain and be entertained, on their only day off of the week.
March
05
The Fish Market
posted by Kaire Kalam (That Estonian Girl)
Fresh hamour, barracuda, and shrimp are tossed from pickup trucks by suntanned Pakistanis. The smiling salesmen, “rocking” thick sole sandals my grandmother might wear, shove fish in customers’ faces and shout out the day’s catch. The flip-flopping sandals of my new “best-friend”and his squeaky one-wheel wagon follow awkwardly close as he buzzes, “Tip, ma’am tip”. […]
That Estonian Girl 