Manila

Saturday, March 14, 2015 Rocío N. 6 Comments




Let me tell you a story:

There was a time when I toyed with photography apps on my phone, taking multiple useless photos at a time during car rides, strolls, and God knows what else. I hate to admit it, but I feel as though I never really discovered Manila's true beauty until I looked back at each low-quality shot.

It was only recently that I reflected on the subjects of each image, until I actually started feeling nostalgic. I realised that many of the images I took were exposed to change. In fact, almost everything in my photographs have changed at least once since I captured them with my 5 mega-pixel lens.

I decided I needed to share the ever-changing hidden magnificence that is Manila.

And so I collected my favourites and decided to post them online (as always). Here they are:
















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Insel Mainau

Tuesday, March 10, 2015 Rocío N. 0 Comments



Over consecutive summers, my family and I would take day trips to Insel Mainau (Konstanz, Germany). A sanctuary for both nature and inspiration-seekers, Mainau became the forefront of my adventures in Europe. The tourist area (owned by a former prince of Sweden, Count Bernadotte af Wisborg) is home to a variety of breathtaking flora. I remember falling in love with the island again and again, to the point where I knew it like the back of my hand. In this post I included some photos I took over the years of some of my favourite spots on the island. Enjoy:





















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BOOK REVIEW: Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami

Monday, March 09, 2015 Rocío N. 0 Comments



(This may include spoilers)


I have a particularly odd method for choosing books I want to read -- and the books I end up reading are more often than not as odd as I am.

I stumbled upon several of Haruki Murakami's novels whenever I'd pass by a display window of one of my favourite bookstores. Judging a book by its cover is something I find myself guilty of doing now and again, but there was something about Murakami's book covers that had me gravitate toward them. Of course, I was never pressed to buy these books, even if the summaries did interest me. There just weren't enough…how do you call them… "sparks".

Months passed and I saw these books constantly. Not only that but almost every day a Haruki Murakami quote would pop up on my Tumblr dash. There's got to be something about these books, I thought to myself. Nevertheless, my doubt response triumphed each time. 

That was until I became obsessed with Japanese model Kiko Mizuhara. After endless nights of stalking and copious numbers of saved fashion editorials, I found out she made her film debut playing Midori in Tran Anh Hung's film adaptation of Norwegian Wood. 

Well, if those weren't enough signs that I should buy the book, then I don't know what were.

And so I did it. I bought the book.

And I read it.

And I fell in love with it.


photos: goodreads, randomhouse


Norwegian Wood follows young university student Toru Watanabe in the 1960s, who has grown close to the beautiful Naoko after the suicide of her boyfriend and his best friend Kizuki. Naoko is left shaken and disappears to a sanatorium in Kyoto without informing Toru while he is left burdened with loneliness back in Tokyo. As months pass without her, Toru starts to begin relationships with the people around him, including Midori, who turns out to be a character exactly opposite of his beloved Naoko.

Sometimes disturbing, and many times heartbreaking, Haruki Murakami writes with such a distinct style that the reader is instantly hooked to his words. Though at first I wasn't very appreciative of the how the book was translated, I soon learned to love every flaw as it skilfully contributed to the narrator's personality. Toru was, for me, easy yet simultaneously difficult to understand. His mind was a little messed up, as all of the other characters presented in the book. I like messed up; it keeps stories interesting. In fact, each character was so memorably messed up, that I felt some sort of connection to each of them, despite liking them or not. 

Each chapter was written with the grandeur of discomfort and delight. They all had the capability of making you feel certain things while making you question those feelings at the same time. I read a review by Justin Coffin for Chicago Tribune that beautifully captured the essence behind the oddity of Murakami's writing, where Coffin stated: "Murakami has always been concerned with the strange, unfathomable darkness that he believes lies within all humans. We are caught in our little labyrinths, always blocked, but we are also windup toys, going through the motions of everyday life." Sure enough, the novel explores just that as isolation and loss seem to be recurring themes in the novel. Generally throughout the book, Toru is torn between Midori and Naoko, who, in turn, personify life and death respectively. These motifs are further touched upon when Toru's experiences with his friends' unexplainable suicides draw back curtains for his outlook on mortality and existentialism. Murakami writes, "Death was not the opposite of life. It was already here, within my being, it had always been here, and no struggle would permit me to forget that.”







photo: restlessthings

Norwegian Wood is able to give the reader a sense of nostalgia. It opens with Toru at 37 sitting in an airport in Hamburg, who, once hearing the Beatles' "Norwegian Wood", is transported back to his time with his two loves, Naoko and Midori. The novel was written with the aid of Murakami's highly saturated vision of a westernised Japan in the late sixties: his use of imagery to describe Toru's past is remarkably bold, and his language lucid. He pays an incredible amount of detail to each scene in the story by weaving in eloquent, dream-like depictions of his characters and settings. The way in which he paints his world is similar to that of a Renaissance artist: he makes sure to emphasise small symbols like Naoko's butterfly clips, and blends them seamlessly into a yellow-green mural of Toru's college memories.

In my opinion, the title fits the book perfectly. Just have a listen to the song that so inspired it:



The novel, for me, was an exploration of existential struggle in terms of loss and sexuality, and the exploration thereof was personal, yet very open. Still, it was very much centred on Toru's perspective and version of the plot, so much so that reading the book was unduly like stepping into the mind of his character. I felt as if I was being thrust into a world magnificently alien to me, and as I said before, I fell in love with it.

Of course, after mentioning Kiko Mizuhara in the beginning of this post, I can't go on without saying something about the film adaptation: I actually haven't seen it yet, though I do intend to. Many say that it's a mere summary of the book, still, I can't stop myself from wanting to experience it sometime. I'll keep you posted.

Until then,

Rocio

Learn more about the book here.
Learn more about the author here.
Read Justin Coffin's review here.
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Introduction

Monday, March 09, 2015 Rocío N. 0 Comments

I hate writing.

Well, not writing, per se, but reading what I've written. You see, writing has never been my forté, so anything I have ever created through type or pen never really seemed to excite me.

But what's absurd is that I, a non-writer, chose to start a blog.

Let's start with the why, the when, and the how:

Why. I decided to start a blog, because, well…I had nothing better to do. Sorry. That's a bad answer. Let me re-phrase -- I decided to start a blog because I wanted to communicate my thoughts and ideas through something other than just a conversation with people I see every day. Basically, I wanted to branch out from what I currently do. I guess starting a blog was the first step to achieving this.

When. Contrary to what I just told you, starting a blog has indeed been on my mind for a while. It all started with the whole "oh this blogger has nice clothes", the "oh this blogger has a lovely writing style", and the "oh this blogger makes fantastic art" conundrum that incidentally made me feel as if I was doing nothing with my life. I decided to pick myself up and do something about it.

How. School. Coincidentally, the (in)famous International Baccalaureate Diploma Programme (IBDP) I am currently taking offers academic credit for doing anything creative. Writing blogs count. So then I slapped myself in the face, kicked myself out of bed and got myself logged on to my computer, and gave birth to what you, dear reader, can see right here, right now.

And there it is. End. Done. Finito.

But…not quite? I don't necessarily believe that all blogs need an introduction to the author, but  I feel you're going to want to know who's behind this sooner or later, whether it be because I become rich and famous (as if…but you know, fingers crossed) or if I just end up typing up a confession to mass murder.

Whatever the reason, here it goes…

My name is Rocío. Friends and family call me Cio (pronounced see-oh). I take an interest in visual arts, literature, travel, film, and really, anything else that can grasp my attention.

My little foreword may not say much, but I thoroughly hope you enjoy the content I will be posting in the near or far future (who knows if I'll be keeping up with this), and finally, welcome to Au Fond.

Rocío

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