Turn the lights off

Have you ever wondered how your favourite places look like at night without the city lights and the visual noise? Like this..

San Francisco 37° 48′ 30″ N 2010-10-9 Lst 20:58. © Thierry Cohen


Rio de Janeiro 22° 56′ 42″ S 2011-06-04 Lst 12:34. © Thierry Cohen


Paris 48° 50′ 55″ N 2012-08-13 Lst 22:15. © Thierry Cohen


New York 40° 44′ 39″ N 2010-10-13 Lst 0:04. © Thierry Cohen


Hong Kong 22° 16′ 38″ N 2012-03-22 Lst 14:00. © Thierry Cohen


Los Angeles 34° 03′ 20″ N 2010-10-09 Lst 21:50. © Thierry Cohen


Shanghai 31° 13′ 22″ N 2012-03-17 Lst 14:47. © Thierry Cohen


New York 40° 42′ 16″ N 2010-10-9 Lst 3:40. © Thierry Cohen


São Paulo 23° 33′ 22″ S 2011-06-05 Lst 11:44. © Thierry Cohen


I stumble upon this amazing website and got completely hooked with this pictures. You can read more about how the photographer did these stunning pictures HERE.


source: Smithsonian magazine









Great Travellers: Andre Brugiroux

Japan 1970

This picture was taken in Japan, 1970, while hitch-hiking. It highlights the way he usually travelled aside from planes, boats and yachts. He travelled with his little backpack where he could keep his sleeping bag, coat, food and hundreds of memories; he said he used to spend $1 per day.

He is a French writer, born in 1937 than between 1955 and 2005 every country and territory in the world.

His mother, who had done some touring before getting married, was the one who unwittingly transmitted him the desire to travel and provided him with the key to developing his future resourcefulness by enrolling him as a scout.

His childhood was marked by war and his travels around the world have had the purpose of discovering whether peace will be possible one day.

He left in 1955 with 17 years, with a diploma in Hospitality from Paris, working first for 7 years in Europe, to learn languages, accepting any job.  Between his time in Spain and West Germany he did his military service in the Congo (1958 and 1959).

After saving money for 3 years, performing as a translator in Canada, he was able to travel the world for 6 years without working.

He made a documentary about his adventures, wrote 10 books and he dedicated especially on trips to raise awareness of the Baha’i Faith (is a monotheistic religion whose adherents follow the teachings of Baha’u’llah, who considered the manifestation of God for the present time).

The title of both his film and his first book, La Terre n’est qu’un seul pays (literally: “The Earth is but one country”, published in English as One People, One Planet), is the conclusion to which his first journey around the world brought him, a journey which lasted 18 years before he returned home (1955 to 1973), and during which he hitch hiked 400,000 km (250,000 mi), hitch hiking through 135 countries on every continent.

Places visited between 1955 and 2005

Very inspiring man, of course, nowadays it would be impossible to get around with $1 daily but we can actually get around with less than we can imagine if we learn to trust our instincts and manage our money. He did not travelled glamorously and he was actually in danger a few times but if you have the courage and determination of this man, you could get anywhere you want; but not with one dollar a day.

I hope yall got a little inspired to actually try to travel a bit, even in your own country, which is a start. Think about the great stories you’ll have to tell your grandchildren 😉


Alaska 1969

Oslo 1973

Jakarta 1970

source: Portal Mochilero and Wikipedia.

Post-Thursday Inspiration #14

I haven’t been posting a lot lately because I’ve been either crazy busy or crazy lazy the days I have nothing to do. Today I found some awesome inspiring pictures in Pinterest when I should actually be doing some homework or photography. But really if I have to see another must-send application form from universities and scholarships I’ll go crazy.

So here is a little inspiration in this not-so-special Friday to fill our heads and dreams!


Be the change you want to see in the world

I found this video a few minutes ago, its so inspirational, it makes you think about what you are doing in your life and why are you doing this stuffs.

If you are doing what you like, be happy, you can congratulate yourself for it. If you still are in the path that your heart doesn’t follow, stop for a moment, watch this video and reflect on it. I know I did.


The Voyage- Charles Baudelaire

Let me introduce you to my favourite poem. I came across it in a Literature class in college and I just fell completely in love with it.

It combines every little detail of my love for travel and I always keep it close to my heart.



The Voyage

À Maxime du Camp 

For the child, in love with globe, and stamps, 
the universe equals his vast appetite. 
Ah! How great the world is in the light of the lamps! 
In the eyes of memory, how small and slight! 
One morning we set out, minds filled with fire, 
travel, following the rhythm of the seas, 
hearts swollen with resentment, and bitter desire, 
soothing, in the finite waves, our infinities: 
Some happy to leave a land of infamies, 
some the horrors of childhood, others whose doom, 
is to drown in a woman’s eyes, their astrologies 
the tyrannous Circe’s dangerous perfumes. 
In order not to become wild beasts, they stun 
themselves, with space and light, and skies of fire: 
The ice that stings them, and the scorching sun, 
slowly erase the marks of their desire. 
But the true voyagers are those who leave 
only to move: hearts like balloons, as light, 
they never swerve from their destinies, 
and, without knowing why, say, always: ‘Flight!’ 
Those whose desires take on cloud-likenesses, 
who dream of vast sensualities, the same 
way a conscript dreams of the guns, shifting vaguenesses, 
that the human spirit cannot name. 
We imitate, oh horror, tops and bowls, 
in their leaps and bounds, and even in dreams, dumb 
curiosity torments us, and we are rolled, 
as if by a cruel Angel that whips the sun! 
Strange fate, where the goal never stays the same, 
and, belonging nowhere, perhaps it’s no matter where 
Man, whose hope never tires, as if insane, 
rushes on, in search of rest, through the air. 
Our soul, a three-master, heads for the isle, of Icarus. 
A voice booms, from the bridge ‘Skin your eyes!’ 
A voice, from aloft, eager and maddened, calls to us: 
‘Love… Fame… Happiness! Hell, it’s a rock!’ it cries. 
On every island, that the lookouts sight, 
destiny promises its Eldorado: 
Imagination, conjuring an orgiastic rite, 
finds only a barren reef in the afterglow. 
O, the poor lover of chimeric sands! 
Clap him in irons, toss him in the sea, 
this drunken sailor, inventing New Found Lands, 
whose mirage fills the abyss, with fresh misery? 
Like an old tramp, trudging through the mire, 
dreaming, head up, of dazzling paradise, 
his gaze, bewitched, discovering Capua’s fire, 
wherever a candlelit hovel meets his eyes. 
Astounding travellers! What histories 
we read in your eyes, deeper than the ocean there! 
Show us the treasures of your rich memories, 
marvellous jewels made of stars and air. 
We wish to voyage without steam or sails! 
Project on our spirits, stretched out, like the sheets, 
lightening the tedium of our prison tales, 
your past, the horizon’s furthest reach completes. 
Tell us, what did you see? 
‘We saw the sand, 
and waves, we also saw the stars: 
despite the shocks, disasters, the unplanned, 
we were often just as bored as before. 
The sunlight’s glory on the violet shoals, 
the cities’ glory as the sunlight wanes, 
kindled that restless longing in our souls, 
to plunge into the sky’s reflected flames. 
The richest cities, the greatest scenes, we found 
never contained the magnetic lures, 
of those that chance fashioned, in the clouds. 
Always desire rent us, on distant shores! 
Enjoyment adds strength to our desire. 
Desire, old tree, for whom, pleasure is the ground, 
while your bark thickens, as you grow higher, 
your branches long to touch the sky you sound! 
Will you grow forever, mighty tree 
more alive than cypress? Though, we have brought, with care, 
a few specimens, for your album leaves, 
brothers, who find beauty, in objects, from out there! 
We have saluted gods of ivory, 
thrones, jewelled with constellated gleams, 
sculpted palaces, whose walls of faery, 
to your bankers, would be ruinous dreams. 
Clothes that, to your vision, bring drunkenness, 
women with painted teeth and breasts, 
juggling savants gliding snakes caress.’ 

And then, what then? 
‘O, Childishness! 
Not to forget the main thing, everywhere, 
effortlessly, through this world, we’ve seen, 
from top to bottom of the fatal stair, 
the tedious spectacle of eternal sin. 
Woman, vile slave, full of pride and foolishness, 
adoring herself without laughing, loving without disgust: 
Man, greedy tyrant, harsh, lewd, merciless, 
slave of that slave, a sewer in the dust. 
The torturer who plays; the martyr who sobs; 
the feast, perfumed and moist, from the bloody drip; 
the poison of power, corrupting the despot; 
the crowd, in love with the stupefying whip: 
Several religions just like our own, 
all climbing heaven. Sanctity, 
like an invalid, under the eiderdown, 
finding in nails, and hair-shirts, ecstasy: 
Drunk with its genius, chattering Humanity, 
as mad today as ever, or even worse, 
crying to God, in furious agony: 
‘ O, my likeness, my master, take my curse! 
And, the least stupid, harsh lovers of Delirium, 
fleeing the great herd, guarded by Destiny, 
taking refuge in the depths of opium! 
– That is the news, from the whole world’s country.’ 
Bitter the knowledge we get from travelling! 
Today, tomorrow, yesterday, the world shows what we see, 
monotonous and mean, our image beckoning, 
an oasis of horror, in a desert of ennui! 
Shall we go, or stay? Stay, if you can stay: 
Go, if you must. One runs, another crouches, to elude 
Time, that vigilant, shadow enemy. 
Alas! There are runners for whom nothing is any good, 
like Apostles, or wandering Jews, 
nothing, no vessel or railway car, they assume, 
can flee this vile slave driver; others whose 
minds can kill him, without leaving their room. 
When, at last he places his foot on our spine, a 
hope still stirs, and we can shout: ‘Forward!’ 
Just as when we left for China, 
the wind in our hair and our eyes fixed to starboard, 
sailing over the Shadowy sea, 
with a young traveller’s joyous mind. 
Do you hear those voices, sadly, seductively, 
chanting: ‘Over here, if you would find, 
the perfumed Lotus! It’s here we press 
miraculous fruits on which your hopes depend: 
Come and be drunk, on the strange sweetness, 
of the afternoons, that never end.’ 
Behind a familiar tongue we see the spectre: 
Our Pylades stretches his arms towards our face. 
‘To renew your heart, swim towards your Electra!’ 
she calls, whose knees we once embraced. 
O Death, old captain, it is time! Weigh anchor. 
This land wearies us, O Death! Take flight! 
If the sky and sea are dark as ink’s black rancour, 
our hearts, as you must know, are filled with light! 
Pour out your poison, and dissolve our fears! 
Its fire so burns our minds, we yearn, it’s true, 
to plunge to the Void’s depths, Heaven or Hell, who cares? 
Into the Unknown’s depths, to find the new.

Charles Baudelaire