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Greg Davis > ~ The Blanket Weaver ~ On a bone chilling three-dog night in a wonderful three-dollar a night room, I found peace in Sapa, a remote village in the north of Vietnam set at the foot of the country's highest peak. Arriving late afternoon, gazing out across the valley through my window, I sat falling into the scene laid before me. There, perched on top of the clouds, was majestic Mount Fansipan. Clouds rolled up and over her with the ease of Sunday. A crisp, clean gust bit me through the window seal causing retreat, where I huddled next to the fire and sought comfort in that evening’s bowl. Nothing lay to waste as I used broken bread to insure I got to all of the hard to reach spots in the corners of the bowl. I then laid back and let warmth envelop me. There is always something comforting about a warm fire; the way the flames flirt with one another seems like an ancient act of love. As I stared into the celebration that was taking place in the hearth and as dusk slowly began giving way to shadow, my eyelids became burdensome and I found myself nestled in a blanket made by the hands of a woman who slept near.
Greg Davis > ~ Gods in the Alleyway ~ Watching the sunset over the lake is a must when visiting the city of Pushkar, India. Each late afternoon many arrive early along the westward-facing ghats to settle in for dusk's demise. The silhouette of the white stucco buildings surrounding the lake, shown once against the orange glow of the late afternoon sky and again in the reflection of the holy water, create a mystical ambiance that will remind you of days past and will bring thoughts of those yet to come. A charming village centered in Indian spiritualism; it is one of Hindu’s holiest. Legend holds that nectar from the gods fell to the earth to create the lake around which the city now lies. Set among the Snake Mountains in western Rajasthan, in Pushkar you can locate a yogi, a tantric master, a reflexologist, a fortuneteller, a tarot card reader, a palm reader, doctors of alternative medicines, any number of wandering sadhus, and if you look close enough, you might even find yourself.
Greg Davis > - The Meaning of Her Life - Hoi An is a quaint village set on the South China Sea in central Vietnam. Hoi An was a port of call for the Chinese, French and other mariners for centuries and their influences can be seen throughout the city; sleepy waterfront cafés, narrow alleyways, strong French-influenced architecture, and bustling fish markets. Waters abound; rivers, lakes and the ocean provide for the locals. When water angers, the painted eyes on the bow of the boats are believed to guide the fishermen and their vessels safely back home. Boats, buses, bicycles and buffalo move people from place to place; transportation options abound. On a boat in Hoi An, I sat next to a Buddhist nun. When I asked her what the meaning of her life was, she looked me straight in the eye, smiled and answered, “To improve.” As a Buddhist, she believes in reincarnation. What a great way to return; improved. Inner peace abounds.
Greg Davis > - Bathing in Laos – I spent a week in the far north of Laos on foot, high in the mountains overlooking the Nam On River. Life here is as one would expect it to have been in South East Asia long before modernization; rural, real, and rustic. Village life in Laos is truly remarkable, it’s a circle reflected in the rains left from the monsoon. The monsoons had exploded through a month before I had happened to make tracks in the rice patties, and as it had centuries upon centuries before me, life continued without concerns, only choices.
Greg Davis > ~ Sadhu in Kathmandu ~ In Hinduism, a sadhu is a common term for a renounced ascetic or practitioner of yoga who has given up pursuit of the first three Hindu goals of life: kama, artha and dharma, or pleasure, wealth and power, and duty. A sadhu is solely dedicated to achieving moksha, or liberation, through meditation and contemplation of God. Throughout India and Nepal, sadhus wander here and there in search of spritual enlightenment. I came across the path of this particular sadhu in the city center of Kathmandu near the Kumari Chowk, his mane nearly reaching the ground.
Greg Davis > ~ Trouble in Paradise ~ It’s hard to believe, but terrorists live in and among the Himalayan mountains of Nepal. The Communist-fronted Maoists, terrorize peaceful villagers daily. Since 1992 they have been “taxing” the locals in order to build finances to help fund their revolution against the Democratic Monarchy of Nepal. My friend, Krishna Pun is a school teacher, a husband, a father of two and until recently, a lifelong resident of Peudwar, a beautiful village just up the mountain from this photograph. Krishna was forced to leave his village to make a new life for his family in the city of Kathmandu. The Maoists had constantly harrassed him for financial support, and more often than not threatened his family too. He began growing more concerned their health as the Maoists were becoming more aggressive. Being an active member of his community, Krishna found himself a prime target. When we first crossed paths with Krishna workng in a bar in Kathmandu, he spoke of these things. He said he would be returning to Peudwar the following week to gather his family and their most personal possessions. All they could take back down the mountain with them were their most personal belongings. You see, it is a day and a half walk up the mountain to Peudwar, and three days return. There are no roads in, sadly, only well trodden paths out; a mountain range webbed.
Greg Davis > ~ Wild Horses in South Africa ~ One day I headed out on foot into the Drakensberg Mountains for a day alone with nature. As I made my way up and over, and twice there and again, I turned to admire the horizon to the west and noticed a group of wild horses standing at attention along the second ridge down. The sheer distance and wind direction prevented me from hearing their conversation but they seemed to be mulling over the new development of my presence. Their nostils and manes aflare, their ears soldiers at attention. I decided to have a seat on the gentle slope of the mountain and watch the show, nature’s own, to see how things might progress. In time, the group made their way to my side, each side. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the six towering wild horses that surrounded me; brisk exhales and informative inhales pulling in as much and more. Grunts, shuffles, a whinny, a neigh. I never felt unsafe, but I did feel a tinge of insecurity at my position under their hooves. When I suddenly made for my bag to pull my camera out, the horses became skittish, so I settled back to allow them a complete examination. Once I felt that they were comfortable with my presence, I went for the camera. I slowly slid it out of my bag and chose to shoot from the hip in hopes of not spooking the horses more. This is what I captured....
Greg Davis > OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Greg Davis > ~ A Watchful Eye, Spain ~ Riding my motorcycle along the Northwest Coast of Spain through the bone chilling Atlantic winds I ultimately found myself in front of a small "Cerveceria" perched high above the dancing water. Now I don't speak much Spanish but I could certainly figure out what they might be serving inside those walls. Unfortunately, there is no such luck to do much of anything in Spain during the "siesta". All was quiet that afternoon at the cantina, and one of the locals, steadfast, kept a watchful eye on all that approached.
- Bathing in Laos –

I spent a week in the far north of Laos on foot, high in the mountains overlooking the Nam On River. Life here is as one would expect it to have been in South East Asia long before modernization; rural, real, and rustic. Village life in Laos is truly remarkable, it’s a circle reflected in the rains left from the monsoon. The monsoons had exploded through a month before I had happened to make tracks in the rice patties, and as it had centuries upon centuries before me, life continued without concerns, only choices.
> - Bathing in Laos – I spent a week in the far north of Laos on foot, high in the mountains overlooking the Nam On River. Life here is as one would expect it to have been in South East Asia long before modernization; rural, real, and rustic. Village life in Laos is truly remarkable, it’s a circle reflected in the rains left from the monsoon. The monsoons had exploded through a month before I had happened to make tracks in the rice patties, and as it had centuries upon centuries before me, life continued without concerns, only choices.
- Bathing in Laos –

I spent a week in the far north of Laos on foot, high in the mountains overlooking the Nam On River. Life here is as one would expect it to have been in South East Asia long before modernization; rural, real, and rustic. Village life in Laos is truly remarkable, it’s a circle reflected in the rains left from the monsoon. The monsoons had exploded through a month before I had happened to make tracks in the rice patties, and as it had centuries upon centuries before me, life continued without concerns, only choices.
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< 4 of 46 >

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