In having no car and no friends not working, I’ve decided to enter the Capture the Colour Contest,which is being hosted by Travel Supermarket. The premise is to write a post with 5 photos, each best representing or embodying a specific color. The winner of each color will get a new third generation iPad, and the grand prize winner gets £2,000 to jump-start plans for a dream trip.
Here’s what you have to do:
- Publish a post with your submissions. You’ll only be eligible for the grand prize if you use all of the colors.
- Either share the link to your post on Facebook while mentioning Capture the Colour and tagging the TravelSupermarket.com Facebook page, OR tweet the post while tagging #capturethecolour and @travelsupermkt, OR email your entry to firstname.lastname@example.org with your name, address, and phone number.
- Submit your post before August 27, 2012.
Seville, Spain. Late March, 2012.
As I walked into school on the Friday before Palm Sunday, I was greeted by 45 hooded figures shouting my name. “Miss Cat, Miss Cat! Guess who I am?”
In Andalusia, the Holy Week activities are highly anticipated, and my elementary school was no different. The first graders I taught last term were given the role of nazareno, meaning they’d wear tunics and hoods echoing the KKK while leading a parade of 400 students, aged 3 to 15, around the neighborhood ahead of a small status of the Virgin Mother.
My students took their jobs about as serious as a first-grader who had been deprived their juice boxes and cookies for the sake of a Virgin Mary parade, and we had fun guessing just who was who. The blue-eyed girl was easy, a stark contrast from the Andalusian hallmarks: dark hair, skin and eyes.
Scottsdale, Arizona. Christmas 2012.
On the day my partner got his Christmas gift from his family, I got mine from myself. Kike’s cowboy hat made even the most blue-blooded Spaniard look a little bit gringo, so I used my brand-new Canon Rebel to snap a photo of him under Old Glory in downtown Scottsdale. If only I’d gotten his rendition of Yankee Doodle on camera, too.
Seville, Spain. May 2012.
Bullfighting has never been a big draw to me, though I am a complete romantic when it comes to the pageantry of the costumes and capotes, or capes. As we had a pre-fight beer during the 2012 Novilleros season, I caught two of the picadores, men on horseback whose long spear pierce the bull’s main artery to weaken it, pass by on their way to Seville’s stately ring.
Arcos de la Frontera, Spain. March 2009.
Spain’s southernmost region is famous for its pueblos blancos, or whitewashed villages. Tucked in the mountains that border the Seville, Cádiz and Málaga regions, these towns are home to quaint views and, quite often, good food.
My friend Cece lives in one of the largest villages, Arcos de la Frontera. Once a Moorish stronghold, Arcos is reputed to be one of the most lovely. What I liked most was the stark contrast between the white houses and the cloudless Andalusian sky that snuck into every frame that morning. We enjoyed our cafes con leche that turned into cervezas between the breezy alleyways that morning, and I fell in love with Arcos.
Istanbul, Turkey. April 2012.
Not one to sign up for touristy gimmicks, I let myself be tricked into attending a dinner show that included whirling dervishes while in Turkey. Ever since seeing them on an amazing Amazing Race episode in college, I’d longed to see them in person, but research proved futile – since it’s a religious ceremony, many places were closed to non-believers.
So I settled for a place with mediocre food and an overpriced show in the middle of the Golden Horn of Istanbul. Ambiance was nil, but the moment the dervishes came out in their black robe and brown, trunk like hats, I was mesmerized. I set my camera on a low ISO to get the floating effect as I watched their feet move in slow routine. The lights cast an eerie green on their white robes as they floated and abruptly stopped, letting their robes twist around them, hands on their shoulders.
Now, to pass on the color baton: