Hiking through Iran's Chahkooh Canyon was a great respite from the dry heat outside, particularly because I had been sweating to death under my jeans, tunic and headscarf. Thankfully, there was a noticeable dip in the ambient temperature the moment we set foot in the canyon; Jared even took off his boots to enjoy the feeling of the cool sand between his toes. (He's a bit of a mountain man, this one.) He ended up hopping barefooted around the canyon as I tagged along behind leisurely. As I always tell him, he should be glad I'm slower, that's how he winds up with so many holiday shots of himself! 😂

Singapore's known for her urban landscapes and glittering skyline, but my favourite part of my home country is how green it is. There's no lack of greenery anywhere you look, from the tree-lined roads to the parks in every neighbourhood, all enabled by the Parks and Trees Act enacted to mandate the incorporation of green spaces in development projects. It's also one of the things I'm most grateful for this period. With travel now close to impossible and no way to escape to the great outdoors, it's a relief for both the mind and the body to have these slices of nature breaking up the sterility of the city. #nparksbuzz #nparks #singapore #park #nationalpark #greenery #greencity #forest #singaporelife #weekendvibes #weekendmood #weekendgetaway #yourshotphotographer #trek #hiking #trail #hendersonwaves #mountfaber #park #canon_photos #canonsg #singaporetourism #garden #gardencity #southernridges #cityinagarden #tslbojio #tslfeatures #visitsingapore #passionmadepossible #sgig

What a journey we made just to get to this spot, the start of our winter Himalayan hike! To get this far into the Spiti Valley, we first took a train with straight-backed wooden benches to the foggy hill station of Shimla. The trip took twice as long as it should have, but the spirits of the passengers stayed sky high and they whooped every time we trundled through a tunnel. From Shimla, we drove for two days on roads that had been carved into the mountainsides, with crumbling edges that fed the rocky floor far below. Road works stretched on endlessly. Occasionally we'd drive underneath hanging shelves of rock held up seemingly by magic rather than physics, left behind by the excavators that had taken monstrous bites out of the mountains. Other times we'd be forced precariously close to the edge of the cliffs to pass oncoming vehicles. It struck me that all that stood between us and certain death was a snap of the fingers. And surely there had been folks who'd been on the wrong side of chance, because interspersed along the roads were warning signs that had been erected by the B.R.O. - the Border Roads Organisation - "Check your nerves on my curves," said one; "Darling I like you, but not so fast", said another. Gradually, the scenery brightened as white snow replaced grey dust. As we drover higher the snow got deeper - until suddenly we weren't moving anymore. We dug in the snow for pebbles to lay a track for our car, all the while our driver side-eyed the prints nearby and whispered that a snow leopard might have gone by earlier. And so we continued on the maybe-leopard's trail, deeper, and deeper still, into the brilliant Himalayan wilderness.

From the first moment the sun's rays slanted through Nasir al-Mulk's stained glass windows, magic danced in the air. The prayer hall was immediately awash in dazzling pinks and greens and blues; I reached my hand into the light with childish glee and watched the colours glide across my skin. Nasir al-Mulk is also known as the Pink Mosque - not because of the stained glass, as one might think, but because of the pink rose motifs that blanket its walls and ceilings. These floral tiles are distinctly European and reflect the influence of western culture on 19th century Iran. Nasir al-Mulk is still used for worship today; visitors are allowed to enter outside of prayer hours. We sat inside for over an hour watching the ebb and flow of people - mostly young couples and glammed-up women with camera-toting partners - as the light cast across the floor shortened with the rising sun. (Swipe to see a timelapse video of the activity in the hall! 3rd photo shows a bus stop with a stained glass design.) 📷 First photo shot with the Sony Alpha a7R II. Shout-out to @sonysingapore for making this photo possible! #sonyalphasg #sonysingapore #sonyalpha

Chahkooh Canyon made its first appearance over a million years ago, when the earth fractured due to the upward pressure from the subterranean salt dome. Rain water then chiseled the final flourishes, slowly and artfully, into the full length of its walls. The result is this magnificent corridor of archways and hidey holes that provide cool respite from the scorching Qeshm sun. The ancient locals, noticing the flow of rainwater, dug wells for freshwater deep in the heart of the canyon. The wells are still there today; a friendly park guide beckoned all passing visitors for a drink. We declined - the sight of the emerald pools alone were refreshing enough. They weren't without danger though. A teenager ran past us with the full confidence of youth. He navigated the narrow paths and irregular footholds through speed and momentum rather than technique, and not long after he turned the corner ahead of us, a loud yelp came echoing through the canyon, and he reappeared a few minutes later, dripping wet and sheepishly avoiding everyone's eyes. 📷 Shot with the Sony Alpha a7R II. Shout-out to @sonysingapore for making this photo possible! #sonyalphasg #sonysingapore #sonyalpha

We high-fived each other as Ushguli came into view. It had been a particularly hot day of trekking. The last kilometre or so had been on the dirt road that led to the village; a number of tourist vans had sped past, their wheels mercilessly throwing up clouds of dust in our faces as their passengers looked dispassionately out the windows at us. The smell and taste of the dust lingered around us for an uncomfortably long time. More than anything else, I wanted a cold drink and some proper food - no more muesli bars, thank you very much. By my best estimate it took us over half an hour to find our guesthouse because it was new and nobody seemed to know where it was. Fortunately, it was only a matter of following the road until it appeared, at the exact opposite end of the village that we'd entered from. . The lady of the house sat us down for dinner. A full course, she promised, with soup and salad and pasta, all for only fifteen Euros each. And oh, we were weak and we were willing; we lapped up the wondrous images she described and agreed without question. . When the soup was served, a solemn silence fell over the room. The British couple and the American family, so loud and happy just moments before, stirred their thin, watery soups gravely. Mm, someone said unconvincingly. Is this minestrone soup? somone else wondered out loud. Then the salad (sliced tomatoes) was served, and then the pasta (boiled, plain, soggy), and by this time all cheer (and the British couple) had left the room. . And yes, after we got back to our room, I took out the blasted muesli bars from my backpack again.

[Swipe to see the full view!] . . Sometimes when I'm sitting in bed, like I am now, with freshly washed hair and in my clean pajamas, I wonder to myself: why do we go into the wild? . . Where it's cold, it's hot, it's itchy, it's sweaty, and it smells like week-old grime, until one day the smell's gone and you realise - oh god - you're just so used to the staleness that you don't register it anymore. Where every meal is either a trail mix or something squeezed out of an MRE pack, which you swallow, misty-eyed, as images of your favourite foods file glumly across your mind. . . Where you have to set up camp from scratch every night, nevermind if you're tired from walking ten hours, and when you settle down for the night you can feel the little stones and bits of grass that, despite your very best efforts, still managed to find their way into your sleeping bag. Where the toilets have no walls so you feel the wind in places you really shouldn't. And then I realise: we love the wilderness because of these discomforts, not in spite of them. There's nothing that comes close to the tactile experience of being in nature and getting your hands dirty. It makes you feel connected to the earth. The experience wouldn't be nearly as rich if you hadn't gotten there on your own two feet. Also, two wild rabbits hopped past me once while I was tending to my business in the open, which was easily my top toilet experience if we're counting. . . 📷 Shot with the Sony Alpha a7R II. Shout-out to @sonysingapore for making this photo possible! #sonyalphasg #sonysingapore #sonyalpha

The mosques and palaces we visited in Iran had at least this one thing in common: their walls and ceilings are impossibly, unimaginably intricate. . From far the finer details are invisible. The distance makes the interlacing motifs melt into one another, so they appear only as a general - but no less pleasing - colour scheme. The Sheikh Lotfollah mosque, for example, is at a glance blue and orange; the Nasir Al-Mulk mosque pink and brown. But as you walk closer, the swirls and the lines come into focus - it felt like I'd walked straight into a life-sized kaleidoscope. . Here's the thing though: the buildings are really really old. (The Sheikh Lotfollah is a whopping 401 years old!) But you wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at them because the colours are remarkably vivid and fresh. (There are buildings in my neighbourhood that look more the worse for wear.) This, we learnt, is because of the incredibly labour-intensive and expensive technique that the ancient builders had used. Instead of painting colourful patterns onto regular-shaped tiles, the builders had painstakingly fit together millions and millions of tiny odd-shaped, single-coloured mosaic pieces into the massive murals we see today. Think of it as a sort of ancient Lego-building exercise. This technique had allowed the builders to bake each piece at a temperature optimal for that particular coloured paint, perfectly preserving them through time and against the elements. . At some point, however, this simply ceased to be efficient. The kings wanted their buildings to be completed quickly, partly for political reasons - these elaborate buildings were symbols of the empire's wealth and power, meant to elicit awe from visiting envoys and gain their countries' support. So some liberties were taken. The builders started painting multi-coloured patterns onto large, square tiles. With so many colours on a single tile there was no longer an optimal temperature to bake them at. And that's why these days, here and there in the mosques and palaces, you might spot a wall or a pillar that's obviously more faded than the rest. . The more you know..! . . 📷 Shot with the Sony Alpha a7R II.

The past two months have not been easy for everyone, some more so than others. . Back in January when news of Covid-19 first broke, I confess I took it very lightly. Initial reports compared it to catching the common cold - and doesn't everyone catch a cold three, four times a year? Then things started escalating, slowly at first, and then at an alarming speed. I went from dismissing it to being cautious in public, and now I avoid leaving home altogether except for grocery runs. Once, I caught myself flinching when a stranger sneezed near me. I slunk off sheepishly after that, embarrassed at my instinctive reaction but also astonished at how the fear had furtively crept so deep into my psyche. But that really shouldn't have been a surprise - after all, Covid-19 has become such a central part of life. It dominates conversations, social media, news, and work. Every day I scroll through my Facebook feed and I'm inundated with headlines that declaim the latest statistics. The articles are always followed by barrages of comments, most laced with fear, worry, anger. Covid-19 has exposed gaps in policies and that makes people understandably emotional. It's driven wedges between groups in society. . Still, for every headline exposing acts of racism, selfishness, or discord, there are others that describe the exact opposite. There are stories of people who buy meals for essential service workers, who set up funding campaigns for the affected, and who bravely fight the good fight for us every day. These are the stories that will define us when we look back on this time. And so let us be positive, and supportive, and kind; we'll blaze through the darkness and beat this together.

We came back from a day of hiking to a spectacular sunset. At the exact moment the skies flared pink we were cruising through the old quarters - a jumble of houses whose colours and shapes melded perfectly into the whimsical desert scenery - looking for accommodation for the night. The view from the roof of this guesthouse almost (almost!) made me agree to rent the room for the night, but alas, the carpets that cloaked the walls and floors of the room, and upon which we would have to sleep on, were so musty that we had to turn away with one last regretful look at the stunning view. . . 📷 Shot with the Sony Alpha a7R II. Shout-out to @sonysingapore for making this photo possible! #sonyalphasg #sonysingapore #sonyalpha

We decided to shake things up during our Sri Lanka trip by having Jared drive us around in a tuktuk instead of relying on public transport. The rental company gave him an hour's lesson on the back roads of Colombo, then without much fanfare we were suddenly free to go, right when peak hour traffic started. The first hour before we finally escaped the capital city's maddening traffic was every bit as stressful as it sounds. . . The tuktuk is the hybrid offspring of a car and a motorbike. You steer it like you would a motorbike, but the gears are on the left handle along with the clutch. There's also a bunch of exposed wires on the floor and a lever whose function we never discovered. The tuktuk is a work vehicle, the rental company said, and it absolutely felt like one - it was like a stubborn old horse that we had to coax and wrestle with in equal parts, and if it refused to listen then we had no choice but to find a way to work around it. . . One evening we hiked Pidurangala Rock for the sunset over Sigiriya. On arrival back at the site's carpark, five kilometres from our hotel via bumpy, shadowy dirt roads, we started the engine to find that our tuktuk had a new trick up its sleeve - the headlights wouldn't work. The only other tuktuk driver still loitering in the area gave the headlights a few bangs and shrugged. Luckily we had torches in our packs, though we didn't have ropes to fashion some kind of holder for them. I wound up pressed up against the back of the driver's seat, a torch in each hand sticking out the side windows, trying to angle the lights so they lit the road without reflecting off the side mirrors, as the blasted vehicle went bump bump bump through the woods. . . 📷 Shot with the Sony Alpha a6300. Shout-out to @sonysingapore and @porternovellisg for making this photo possible! #sonyalphasg #sonysingapore #sonyalpha

Maldives from our drone! When my dad first saw the drone, he marvelled at how far technology has come since his childhood days - the age of pagers and mobile phones too large for your pockets. It makes me wonder what we'll see in a decade's time. Hopefully some advancement in jetpack technology so we can explore the skies the way we do the seas now with scuba gear. 😁