The Photography of Dr. Jeffrey P. Harper

These bread loop peddler's carts are as ubiquitous as, well, kabobs in Istanbul . . .

They are literally on every corner . . .

The carts sometimes seem like meeting places for old friends . . .

As we strolled around Istanbul for a week, I found myself drawn to photographing these peddler carts, even though I do not especially like roasted chestnuts . . .

At first I thought of them as only an interesting foreground detail in a photo frame . . . .

Then I began to see them as an inscribed pecuniary universe inhabited by the cart tender, the peddler . . .

These were mobile business dramas; personal survival was at stake . . .

I was surprised by the limited products offered by the peddlers . . .

There were corn carts, with chestnuts . . .

. . . and corn carts without chestnuts . . .

Some bread ring carts also sold water by the bottle . . . . like this thoughtful peddler . . .

Other carts sold only chestnuts, and very few at that . . .

An interesting business concept employing a cart . . . . Tea and a bowl anyone?  This was one of only a few carts I saw in Istanbul that was not selling either chestnuts, bread rings, corn, or water.

But, it was when the sun began to go down that my infatuation in these Istanbul peddler carts hit a crescendo . . .

At night the peddler carts became small planets arrayed around the monuments, markets, and main streets throughout the city . . .

At night many of the carts were replenished to meet the demands of the night shoppers and party-goers . . .

The pedestrian walks at the city center draw throngs of shoppers in the evening . . .

The carts become lanterns in the night . . . to draw customers, like moths . . .

Visitors, businessmen, tourists, and locals all succumbed to the chestnuts' inescapable allure.

I wonder how these 'locations' are apportioned?  Is there a licensing process with the city? . . .

This man was intensely arranging and rearranging the chestnuts on his cart in an effort, I suppose, to draw attendion to his attention-worthy fare . . .

In the realm of the night peddler cart . . .

As it got later and later in the evening, and the pedestrians thinned out, the carts stood out more and more as forlorn islands of light along the dim streets and avenues . . .

Some cart tenders packed it in and went home . . .

Some cart tenders made their decisions to call it an evening based on the day's take.  I wondered if this man, with a cart still full of chestnuts, had made enough to go home yet . . .

As the evening grew later, I ventured off the main pedestrian walking streets . . .

One last customer.  Who eats roasted chestnuts at midnight? . . .

Walking back to the hotel, along a bridge ramp, I encountered this lonely nut peddler and his cart . . .

Out here, along the broad boulevards with fast moving traffic and few pedestrians, there were still a few carts with their lights on.  This fellow had twisted doughnuts as well as bread rings.

Yes, still customers out at midnight, going who-knows-where . . .

Lit by the red brake lights of a passing bus, this man seemed to have chosen the darkest, most out of the way location possible . . .

This was the only drink cart I saw in seven days of walking Istanbul.  The presence of mayonnaise and catsup made me think that it wasn't going to be a hot drink poured into those cups . . .

Very late at night, the last corn and chestnut cart began to shut down . . .

The last hold out . . . with head hung low.

Emptied and secured for the night (next to a police stand), another day gone in the life of a street peddler cart.

I spent about 90 minutes just around the corner at the Bridg of Dee taking these photos.  It was a wonderous morning.

 I have quickly posted these photos . . .and will get back to this post to make comments . . .  soon.

INVERURIE

Another nice sunny winter Saturday in Scotland.  What to do? Let's go for a drive. We had never taken the 16 miles of road from Aberdeen to Inverurie, so today seemed like a good day to do it.  Inverurie is a 15th century market town that really took off when a canal was dug in the River Don from Aberdeen in 1806.  It has become a comuter town for Aberdunians.

Inverurie has a charming triangular central square dominated by this WW I Memorial to the soldiers from the town who died in the wars of 1914-1918  and 1938-1945.  Lest we forget.

We poked around some shops on the square . . . The Dairy was nice, but the cafe had already sold out the days' meal-of-the-day.  Dang.

It is late enough in the winter for gardeners to start to contemplate taking the risk to-plant-or-not-to-plant.

We walked up the main shopping parade in town and found a nice restaurant and had a fine lunch (I had the Balmoral Chicken - roast chicken stuffed with haggis slathered in peppercorn sauce, Prince Charles' favorite!).

After lunch we walked back to the car, but stopped in a sporting goods and a luggage shop first.

Small, frumpy, Inverurie bar.  We didn't go in.

The road leaving town toward Aberdeen.  Small, clean, charming.

They have a gospel church there too.  I love the winter sky in Scotland.

We said good-bye to Inverurie and were glad we visited.  We want to come back and take some time on the River Walk.

MONTROSE (Angusshire)

 Another nice Saturday, another Saturday Drive, a 20 mile drive . . . this time south down the Coastal Route to an adjoining shire and the port town of Montrose, a somewhat down-at-the-heals village set in the most extraordinary geographic setting between the mouths of the North and South Esk rivers, just in front of a wildlife preserve and estuary. Nice church too.

Church doors have a kind of power . . .

Downtown Montrose shopping district.

A very interesting mix of architecture, unlike Aberdeen.  This looks more Dutch than Scottish.  It was a busy shopping day in Montrose.

Local Hero, Joseph Hume.  He "was commissioned as a surgeon to an Army regiment, and was able to take up work as interpreter and commissary-general due to his knowledge of Indian languages."  Cool!  He learned Hindi, just like me! He was also a poet and radical parliamentarian. Nice to see a statue of such an interesting guy in a small town city square.

What?  A Bakery!  Let's have a look.  Some nice local specialities.  We bought an Apple Tart to eat later [far right - it was only ok].

We also bought a loaf of the Oat Bread [top shelf]: it had a crust as hard as concrete and weighed nearly 30 kilos [an exaggeration].  It was, however, extremely delicious.

The TRUE TEST of modern small town economic development is it's capacity to provide a drinkable double latte.  We found this 15th century vaulted cafe off the main square and administered the aforementioned test.  It passed.  A passable latte . . . although a little weak.

The cafe also had the usual display of what could have been 'home made' chutneys, syrups, compotes, jams, and jellys.  We already have these in excess cluttering our refrigerator.  Nothing new here, keep moving.

Yes, Montrose has a Chinese restaurant just like every single town in Scotland!  My wife had just returned from Hong Kong so was not in the mood to complicate her memories of the gastronomy there.

Another commemorative and honorary statue . . . I didn't catch this fellow's name . . . .

Some dilapidation here and there . . . disappointing.  Time to head out of town, find the port, and on to the estuary.

It was a wonderful day with fantastic winter light.

A view back across Montrose Basin to the old town. "At one time Montrose was Scotland's second largest exporter of salmon; and mussel cultivation gave it the largest mussel beds in the country during the 19th and early 20th centuries."  There is a live webcam of Montrose from across the estuary if you want to see what it looks right now.

Low tide on Montrose Basin . . . . a beached boat.

We pulled into the Montrose Basin Wildlife Reserve to ask what to see in the area.  The map provided the answers . . . go to The Bridge of Dun.

The view from the Reserve's Visitor Center Observation Deck was nice . . . and lined with bird-watchers chatting among themselves.  I heard one say, "Isn't that a ring tail twitter finch, just there?"

The Bridge of Dun is a Category A Listed Building . . . without a Wikipedia page!  I did find this, "Three-arch stone bridge, completed 1787 by Alexander Stevens."[citation] The bridge is said to have been the only way to cross the South Esk River, so the Leard built this elaborate toll bridge to enhance his fame.  My battery died within seconds of taking this photo, so other than iPhone shots, I have nothing to post of St Vie village and beach, where we went next.  We had a great day out.

It was a beautiful Sunday a couple of weeks ago . . . and I didn't want to stay inside an iron clothes, so I drove the mile to the Aberdeen Esplanade.  I wasn't the only person with this idea.

I parked at the far northern end and vowed I would walk all the way to the harbour entry . . . two and a half miles away . . . and back.  There was a steady North Sea breeze, a calm sea, and large rolling waves, some quite large. As it was a Sunday, the horizon was full of offshore oil platform tenders, the trucks of the sea.

I enjoyed capturing the waves crashing on the embankments of the Esplanade. . . it was high tide.

I walked slowly along, camera at the ready.

Some of the waves crashed with a loud THUD.

Although it was sunny, the air temperature was only about 3c (39f), and breezy.  People are passionate about their sports and hobbies like this guy and his sea kayak.

This fellow was quite good at it.  His rides were not long, but he caught a lot of waves.  Fun.

2 1/2 miles up the arc of the Aberdeen Esplanade to the tall harbour control tower was my goal . . . I had never walked the full length before.  There were many people out for a stroll: couples, old people, women walking their dogs, and whole families strolling along the North Sea shore.  After I got up to speed, I left the camera in my backpack  . . .

. . . and only stopped once to take this photo of the lighthouses out at Rattray Head.

The southern end of the Esplanade is at the entry to the medieval fishing village of Footdee, known locally as "Fittie".

Footdee sits directly on the sea, protected by a small-ish sea wall.  I wonder what it is like here at high tide (like today) but with a big storm!

Such a pleasant place.  Old stone terrace houses, short doors, benches, and interesting trinkets in all the windows.

The poured glass window testifies to the age of this old door.

I am forever being surprised by Aberdeen: wonderful new places to visit right here in my new home town. Footdee.  The first mention of Fittie was in 1398.  The current village of Fittie "is a particularly interesting example of a planned housing development purpose-built to re-house Aberdeen's local fishing community. Laid out in 1809 by John Smith, then Superintendent Of The Town's Public Works." [citation]

So sweet.  These little places remind me a great deal of old Danish fishing villages . . . although the Danes would have plastered them and painted them with ox blood.

The sharp angle of the winter sun on this rough stone house created an interesting effect.

I walked back by the same house later as the sun was lower in the sky and the light yellowed from time to time.

In and among the more permanent stone structures of Footdee were these fabulously textured fisherman's sheds.

This weathered green shed caught my eye enough to want to do a study of its incredible surfaces . . . .

A late winter's sun's sheen on an old green fisherman's shed.

Yummie textures, light, shadow, detail, and color.

A nautical decorative feature added by who-knows-who, from who-knows-where, affixed who-knows-when.

I made it all the way to the old harbour tower . . . that had an inscription:

The inscription commemorates the 850 years since the founding, in 1136, of Aberdeen's Harbour Board!  That'd be 878 years this year . . . WOW!

At the Aberdeen Harbour I encountered this screaming fellow waving the Jolly Rogers. I kept my distance; I didn't know if he was protesting the oil company docks nearby, or he was a football (soccer) fan, so I walked back through Footdee toward the Esplanade and the 2 1/2 miles back to my car.

They don't make fishermen's sheds like they used to.  Too bad, as this one was beautiful in its own dilapidated and decaying way.

Corrugation!  I've got corrugation!  One of my favorite photographic subjects is corrugation and sundry things attached to it.  This shed was divine, but the window was worth a closer study.

Astonishing beauty.  I love this dilapidation . . . a picture of history itself . . . the work of time and weather upon a manmade object transits to a work of The Elements.

I left Footdee, a real, living, working, fishermen's village, for the crowds of the Esplanade.  I will be back here again . . . maybe to see if it is possible to rent one of those little sheds . . . I imagined a week-end retreat . . .

I joined the late afternoon throng that had come to look at the North Sea, and then quickly walked the 2 1/2 miles back along the Esplanade to my car.  A great day, yes, a great day.

There had been some very cold nights lately and I noticed on the Internet that there had also been some snow up in the hills around Aberdeen.  It was Saturday, so why not drive out and take a look.  I had no particular plan, just my trusty GPS to get me home.

It turned out to be a fabulous day: big, fast clouds racing across the sky . . . bright splashes of sunlight racing across the landscape, and a mix of light to give me a challenge with the big camera.

Patches of blue, patches of white, patches of brown and black.  Brown patches?

Right, the patches of brown were sheep!

Scotland road B9119 winds up through Aberdeenshire toward the highlands and the royal residence of the Queen, Balmoral.  As it climbs, the snow gets deeper, and as the road falls, the snow vanishes.

I made several detours when an interesting sign caught my attention. This road was suppose to lead to a tannery.  It  didn't, but it didn't matter.

The perfect countryside winter scene.  A patch of bright sunlight flashing cross the snow, near and far.

Stark white and stark black contrast . . . so wonderful to look at.

As I drove back out to the B9119, I stopped in the middle of the road in amazement.  Somehow I had not seen this castle on my way up the road the first time!

These are the ruins of Corse Castle (c. 1581).

There are so many castles in Aberdeen and Aberdeenshire that you cannot but help running into one on any country road you might try.

There are over 300 castles in Aberdeen and the surrounding Aberdeenshire! [citation]  Corse Castle sits on a high bank overlooking Corse Burn.

The castle was, and is, owned by the Forbes family, whose son, Patrick, born in this castle, was named Archbishop of Aberdeen in 1618.

The inscription on the door lintel heralds the builder William Forbes ("WF") and the date of the founding of the current castle - 1581 (the previous house was sacked and plundered by robbers!).

Corse Castle must have been a fine castle in its day.  I drove on toward the village of Tarland.

It was a cold (34f or 1c), windy day with ever-changing light and shadow.

The road to Tarland and sky, and snow, and clouds combined in many conspiracies of evocative wonder.

I stood here for a good long while next to a sign pointing toward the 4000 year old Tomnaverie Stone Circle . . . . why I didn't follow That road, I will never know.  It's been there a while, it'll be there next month too.

Queen Victoria used this route to her private summer residence at Balmoral Castle.  This view site was constructed for her as a rest stop.  The sign is new.

On I drove toward Tarland . . . dropping in elevation as I went.

Tarland, Aberdeenshire, Scotland, population 540 (in 2004).

I walked up "Main Street" (actually Melgum Road) in Tarland and saw what one always sees in small towns throughout the UK: a World War I memorial.

The small village of Tarland (and it must have been smaller then) lost 24 young men in The Great War of 1914-1918.

I was hungry, so I went into the Commercial Hotel to see what was on the menu.

Like almost every restaurant in Scotland, the soup-of-the-day was potato-leak . . . my favorite.

When I came out of the Commercial Hotel 30 minutes later, Tarland was lit in a blaze of clear sunlight!  Fantastic.

Double Happiness INDEED!  Every, and I do mean EVERY, Scottish town and village, no matter how small, has a Chinese take-away.  Tarland was no exception.  Having just moved to Scotland from Asia, I find this fascinating.  Who are these people who spent their savings to come to this village in Scotland's back roads?

At the end of the main street were the ruins of an old church and graveyard.

The Francis Donaldson Boig Fountain in Tarland set in 1913.  It must have been a good one, because it still works.

The old Tarland Chapel and 'kirkegaard.'

Among the grave stones was this monument to Peter Milne, a local boy who made a name for himself in playing fiddle in Aberdeen (and beyond!) at the turn of the last century.  Peter Milne is NOT buried in Tarland, his ancestral home, but in Aberdeen.  This is just a monument to his accomplishments, including some much loved folk songs, including John McNeill's Reel (better known as Big John McNeill) and Gillan's Reel (often called Gillian's Reel).  I will see if I can find these songs on-line and pay old Peter Milne some respect these 108 years after his death.

I asked the waitress in the hotel if there was a short-cut to a main road so I could get back to Aberdeen faster.  This was the road she recommended.  Thanks.  It was getting late and, since it was quite cold, I was worried the wet road would freeze soon.

It was a wonderful drive home through the rolling countryside of Aberdeenshire.  As it began to grow dark, a fantastic sunset began to develop, as it often does here.

I pulled over next to a flooded field to enjoy the reflections . . . and just watched . . . .

. . . . and snapped away . . . I was awestruck.

I made it home well after dark . . . with this picture still in my mind.