Words
Photo gallery: The Madurai flower market
In India, even the flower market is run by men. Strewn with refuse and dead flowers, it’s a place that doesn’t charm at first sight. The peeling walls are patched with old movie posters. “So this is the place my guidebook suggested,” I doubted silently.
But the merchants ask to be photographed, offer delightfully fragrant blossoms, and create skillful arrangements to adorn women’s hair or as offerings to the gods. And the experience transforms little by little.
See the post for a photo gallery.
Yeah, about that video
Damn.
That about sums up my thoughts on the response to that video I posted of my colleagues’ reaction to my yearlong trip.
On Facebook, on Twitter, and on a few blogs, friends and friends of friends happily passed it on to their networks and, before I could say “unintended viral marketing”, I had a massive spike in traffic on this blog.
I’m honoured. And a little scared. I made this video thinking only friends and colleagues would see it. I never expected it to multiply through the miraculous butterfly effect of the retweet.
Telling my boss I’m leaving
What would your coworkers say if you left your privileged, endangered job to prance around the world for one year? This is what my coworkers said.
