Baghdad at last

The trip to Baghdad proved to be a very arduous journey once leaving the Air force Hotel in Germany. We didn’t have all the papers we needed for next leg of journey, something the Colonel expressed worry about before leaving Jackson MI. We were missing our orders-showing up at the airport without them is like showing up without a plane ticket.
In the nick of time, we were able to reach one of the PO officers in Balad who emailed over documents we needed-after a very tense couple of hours. The plane was held up on our behalf. (Same C-17 we came over on-though this time filled with cargo and military) We made a run through customs skipping the x-ray of our luggage and other formalities. Making the flight felt like a small miracle.

After settling in, I got to visit the cockpit and photograph as the sun went down. Before landing in Balad, things got serious-all the passengers strapped on their weapons and vest and helmets. Me too. My first time wearing the Kevlar protective gear which proved to be heavier and more restrictive I imagined. Hard to move in It, to say the least, but I still got off a few shots.

In Ballad we found out our onward flight to Baghdad had been canceled due to weather conditions-we were meant to leave later that night. After eating a large meal at a mess hall that had limitless food one could gorge themselves we were taken to the Catfish Air Terminal to get an early flight out, opting to sleep on cots rather then checking in to sleep at a transient hotel. The Helicopter ride never materialized and sleep proved to be impossible. The cots in the terminal were fine, but the two large screen TVs were blaring making sleep impossible. One with a football game that either never ended or was playing in a loop, the other, Fox news. Our morning flight was cancelled and the next one was over full so were advised to take the fixed wing plane, which turned out to be another c-17, though with it came a bust ride into Bagdad.
We were taken to a different terminal on the other side of the base-giving me a sense of how big the operation in Ballad is.

Next stop was the terminal in BIAP, at Camp Victory. Upon landing at 1:30 in the afternoon, we found the next leg of the route via a “Rhino” bus wouldn’t leave till sometime between midnight-4am, leaving a nice chunk of time to wait and take things in.

The Rhino bus goes leaves from Camp Stryker part of the Victory base. The bus travels on a route that was deadly in the early days of the war, but now relative safe. We traveled in a convoy or armored buses equip with Blackwater security guards and an armored escorts.

All I have seen from Iraq so far is airfields and concrete pylons lining different bases. Miles and miles of the American war machine in Iraq. I write from the media room in Baghdad where Iraqi journalist watch Batman on a large TV screen while eating lunch.

Getting the holiday shoot organized is the next task at hand, No easy one at that as our visit and project was buried in someone’s paperwork. Impressions to follow but I need to ready myself for an impromptu tour of the green zone

Flight to Germany in route to Iraq

I woke up somewhere over the Atlantic and climbed out of my sleeping bag. Who knew sleeping on a metal floor could be so comfortable. I didn’t miss the constant interruptions of a stewardess waking me throughout the flight with offers of food and items to buy. The other passengers, military, and family members related to someone in the military, spread out causally on the floor. One family had its’ own air mattress. Some had big ear protectors. My fellow passengers struck me as experienced travelers.

At the airport in Ramstein, Col David Buck worked out logistics for Phin and I for the next day before taking us to the Air Force Inn. We have slowed him down since we have unique paper work.

After a night on the town with members of the Air Guard, I got a little better picture of what we are flying into- but really wont know till I get there. From Ramstein, more flights are going to Afghanistan then ever. The Air guard move supplies and patients back and forth from both countries. Later today we fly onward to Iraq where we will be credentialed. I will get to take pictures in the cockpit of a C-17 on the way.

back blogging

Between the internet being down and overloading hours of shooting in the coarse of my days, my blog entries for my trip to Armenia turn out to be more of a running account of what I’m up to, here is what I have got so far….

My second day in Yerevan (April 18th), FAR, an organization doing humanitarian work in Armenia took me to shot at some of its programs. I started out at a hospital interns are trained. I got to shot a surgeon in action removing cancer from a man's stomach. Next stop was a soup kitchen that serves 250 people one meal a day (5 days only). The kitchen used to serve even more patrons but had to cut back due to lack of funds. It is located in an abandoned stone-polishing factory. Most of the population worked polishing stone or cutting diamonds, all but about 10% lost their jobs when Armenia became independent after the fall of the Soviet Union. Poverty is prevalent since many of the factories closed down and no other industry has been developed in the area. The soup kitchen serves as more then a place to get a meal; it is also a social hall. A few couples have met there and married. On from there I was taken to The Children’s Reception and Orientation Center, a place where displaced children are kept and cared for until a family member or orphanage is found to place them with. The first child I took pictures of was a three-year-old girl whose mother was sent to prison. The center found her grandmother, where she will be moved. The center is a transitory location for displaced children from 3- 18 years of age. They remain at the center up to 18 days.

Saturday, I went to Noraduz near the shores of lake Serevan, where ancient tombstones, up to a thousand of then are in the graveyard on the town’s outskirts. The graveyard also has a section still in use today. One large funeral party was being held while I was visiting, also a smaller memorial where three men were getting drunk in front of a grave. They offered me some vodka, which I declined. Armenian home brewed vodka is tough stuff as I had found out my second night in town. The ancient part of the cemetary was unlike anything I have ever scene. I found myself equally fascinated by Armenian’s current style of tombs. I visit graveyards in most places I visit. By visiting cemeteries in each place I visit I gain insight into the culture. Each locality has a different prodominant style that most of the graves mimic, making each graveyard distinctive. In Armenia one identifying style is the engraving of peoples faces and sometimes full bodies on black tombstone that serves as ghostlike portraits of the dead.

Sunday I started my day at Yerevan’s fleamarket. Armenian kitsch makes up most of the items available. Mt. Ararat paintings filled the markets parememter. One can buy items ranging from hardware to puppies( image of puppies in car trunk; from paintings to medical implements. Next up I left the city and went to one of the mostly visited touristic sites, the Garni Temple, a pagan temple originally built in 7780 by king Trdat 1st and to there Geghart built in 1215, a church that serves as a tourist destination and an active place of worship. ( image of young girls is shot in the church)