I am generally a busy, restless person – the kind who fills her days to the brim and wants to do a bit of everything and, if physically possible, even at the same time. The person who can best attest to this is surely my Mom, whose most frequent reprimands typically involve the need to slow down, to enjoy the now, to meditate, to do nothing for a change.

Although I’ve always had a general propensity to have a full schedule and a full mind, this year has been above average in its complexity. In times like these, you think the worst possible thing you could do is drop everything and leave. Planning a trip adds another series of items to your long to-do list and a whole bunch of decisions to make when the most predominant symptom of your fatigue is precisely the inability to make any decision easily.

But the main decision was made, somehow: I had booked a trip to Corfu, Greece. It was the middle row of a sandwich that involved two other countries (England and Germany), but the ratio of work and play was life’s ideal ratio: one third work, two thirds play. Corfu was a longstanding dream of mine, though I barely knew anything about the place and could not even remember seeing an image of it that could explain why it called me as much as it did.

So, I set out to recenter myself, to regain peace, to heal, to float in salty seas, to rejuvenate in the sun, to take pictures and write, and to refuel after a string of noisy and mentally draining months that would push anyone sane to their limits.

The one third work went fairly well. To my greatest shock, it was the two thirds play that proved to be the challenge. I had always been an expert traveller, in the sense that it never took me long to feel immersed in my new surroundings – meditative and inspired, carefreely collecting moments and memories. This time, it was not happening. A day, two days, three days in Corfu and my mind kept racing, with my words not lagging far behind, spewing out everything my mind touched on, very little of it meditative, inspired or carefree. Everytime I felt myself feel something profound and beautiful, my mind instinctively redirected the thought to a worry or complaint.

It was a bit paradoxical. I was aware of it and totally irritated by it, but I somehow couldn’t change it. I blamed the events of the past months, the race against time that had become a habit, the to-do-lists, the competing priorities, the pettiness of everyday annoyances, the late nights where neither good work nor good sleep could be properly accomplished, the invasive loudness of social media and the multi-tasking while eating. The balance had tipped so far that it just couldn’t regulate itself, at least not without conscious effort.

Has that ever happened to you while trying to relax? It was entirely new to me.

Of course I felt amazed by life on Corfu island. My senses were astonished by everything I saw, smelled, heard, tasted and felt. The only trouble was that my mind was louder than my senses.
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On our third day in Corfu, I fell in love with a place called Barbati. On the north-eastern coast of the island, it was known for its gorgeous turquoise waters and for its stunning views of the Albanian hills across the way. 

​I swam out really far, first to see the summit of the mountain behind me, and then as though I was trying to escape, trying to shake off the “other me” who had taken hostage of my free spirit. “Stop!” I told myself when I felt my mind start up again, “Just look. Just feel. Just be!” I floated on my stomach for a while, feeling the waves push and pull me, breathing in the salt as the water played under my nose. I watched the silvery white Albanian hills disappear and reappear between the billowing waves. “Remember this”, I forced myself. “Remember this whenever you mind races, and bring it back to this moment”. 

​I was grateful for Barbati, because mindfulness and inner peace started to come more naturally to me after that day. It became a priority – the only urgent task. More urgent, still, than seeing everything I had initially set out to see. I could not help but breathe more frequently and more deeply – the waves gave me no other choice. I ate mindfully, slowly, breathing in, listening to locals, looking at the view (and what a view, each time!). I limited time online to a small fraction of my early morning routine, I limited time looking through the day's photos and preferred, instead, to look at what was live in front of me. I acknowledged the to-dos or worries that periodically wafted through my mind; I would deal with all of them when the time came. I embraced the feelings of utter fear as we drove along the narrowest, windiest, cliffiest mountain roads, knowing that a gorgeous beach and an authentic tavern would reward the journey in a short while! I slept late and woke up early, yet I was rested. The days were long and slow and perfect.  

​It seems it is not always the case that a vacation is the cure, nor that a vacation is by default mindful and restful. It really is a conscious choice and a difficult exercise – to recognize when the balance has tipped and to try your hardest to stabilize it again. The trigger can be a person, a moment or a place. In my case, I was grateful to Barbati for throwing me a life-ring. 

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Nine years ago, to the day, was the start of my first real travel adventure. Actually, it was my first whole bunch of things: my first time overseas for more than just a vacation, my first experience living independently in my own apartment, the first chapter of my scientific career and, what amuses me most, I was accompanied by my first camera.

Let’s be clear: this camera was my camera - not one I had borrowed from my parents that was the size of my shoe, with a leather case so weather-worn that I felt like an insignificant part of its journey. Not a camera I temporarily used and returned to them as soon as I developed my (many) rolls of film. No, this camera was new, it was digital, it was a gift to me for the start of this new chapter in my life and it was mine to carry around everywhere. The funny thing is that, while I was already passionate about travel nine years ago, I was not in the slightest passionate about photography. I was simply excited about documenting my experiences, and I barely chided myself if my thumb made a guest appearance in some of the photos.
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Nine years ago, to the day, I moved to Milano – a city I had hated during an earlier, brief, admittedly über-touristic visit years before. What I did not expect was to find a home and my wings there. My life in Milano is a whole other story to tell, but what I can surely say is that it was the great beginning of many aspects of my life that define me now. It was the first anchor I dropped, and the first place that I would thereafter return to, again and again.

My silver Kodak was a great travel companion. After the first two weeks alone in a huge city with no other constant in my days, I noticed that I was ever so gradually becoming interested in photography. I hadn’t a clue what I was doing, of course. But I began practicing and experimenting, and eventually did start scolding myself for shots that did not convey what I wanted them to. Scenes began calling to me, making me stop in my tracks, making me wait, making me cross the street, making me come down on my knees, making me look back. It wasn’t about achieving technical perfection; it was about learning to capture what I felt about a place. With my notebook and my camera in my bag everywhere I went, I was at peace with my new surroundings and my newfound independence, in a life where at least one element of each day felt completely foreign and unknown.

Nine years ago, to the day, I took my first photograph of the Duomo in Milano with my trusty Kodak. It was a spontaneous decision to take it in black and white – the spires felt more intricate that way.
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I’ve returned to Milano many times and have always found it impossible to resist snapping another photo of the Duomo, as if it were my way to say hello, I’m back, I’ve missed you. The seasons changed, I changed, my cameras changed. After a while, my Kodak retired. I tucked it into its weather-worn leather case, grateful that I had been a significant part of its journey – as it had been a significant part of mine.  

P.S. Thank you, Facebook, for reminding me of nine years ago today. What would we do without your (sometimes creepy) look-backs?

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Have you heard of La Grande Fabrique d'Hochelaga? 

The Montreal initiative used to be called "Le Grand Débarras" and, for the last decade, it has celebrated the creative and ecologically responsible art of local artisans. To celebrate its 10 year anniversary, La Grande Fabrique is hosting a public market next weekend (August 20-21) in the heart of the Hochelaga district. The market will take place outdoors on Sainte-Catherine Est, between Pie-IX and Bennett streets. There will be 4 fair zones to discover and enjoy: fashion and accessories, home decor, well-being and a section devoted to artisans that are part of the Montreal Etsy Team. 

I'm excited to announce that I'll be there as part of the Montreal Etsy leadership team with some of your favorites from my Montreal and international collection.

I can't wait to discover the diversity and mind-blowing creativity of my fellow local makers! It will surely be a fun celebration of our city, its artistic flair and inspiring people. 

It has been a while since my last blog post! Summer has been rolling on - its days (thankfully) long and hot and full. 

There have been a couple of reasons for the brief blog hiatus. For one, I've really been focusing my efforts on my Instagram channel. Since I joined Instagram this spring, I have enjoyed interacting with a whole new set of followers there. If you follow my channel, you may have noticed a mix of photographs and themes, compared to what you see on my blog, Pinterest or Facebook. Not only do I share photos that are part of the Veni Etiam Photography collection, but I occasionally also take you #outandabout and show you the #dailydetails that inspire me. As I work on new projects this summer and fall, I'll be sharing some behind the scenes snapshots as well. But since I also dabble in portrait photography and food photography for fun now and then, I've started a series on Instagram with hashtags #fromplacestofaces and #foodscapes to share those "dabblings" with you. 

Another reason why I've been a little quiet on the blog is because I've been traveling plenty! You may have caught some glimpses of my travels on Instagram and Facebook (#venivacay). I tend to be quieter while traveling; when I feel inspired, I become introspective and introverted, turning to blank journal pages rather than a public blog. I absorb, feel, reflect, before I can outwardly write about these places and how they have inspired me. I promise I'll be telling you more about these places over the next few weeks. Some brand new images from my travels will also be introduced to my shop, so please stay tuned! (As a hint, I'll just say that Greece will make its debut to the international collection!).​

To celebrate those new arrivals in shop, I'll be offering a VIP promo coupon to all the lovely people who are subscribed to my newsletters. If you want to be part of the fun, sign up here. ​

My Etsy Shop is now also back from vacation mode. If you live in Montreal, remember that you can pick up your item to save on shipping. Just use the code "INMTL" at checkout. 

Other fantastic news: Veni Etiam Photography will be part of the Etsy Fait au Québec artisan market again this fall. Mark your calendars for the weekend of September 24-25 (10 am – 6 pm) at the Technopole Angus. I’ll have fine-art prints, metal prints and magnets with me at the market. Come say hi and discover the many talented artisans of our vibrant local community.