The impossible iPhone moment
18 January 2014
It has been two years since we left Bali. Since we left the beautiful island in the east.
I took my wife and my daughter (two years old by then) on a three weeks vacation with nothing planned, other than a return ticket to cold, cold Denmark.
During three weeks of wonder, we rented a car and roamed the roads. (As far as you can roam, when you're used to driving on the right side of the road and suddenly find yourself driving the opposite way in a roundabout twice a day) We met genuine people in the green rice terraces of Ubud. Rode enormous elephants (twice the size of my poor Suzuki Liani 1.0) and climbed the steep hills of mount Batur. The latter is the best memory of all.
We stood up at three in the night, when everyone else were asleep. The darkness was everywhere and the volcano rising above us like a two-toned creature. Half an hour later we found ourselves walking towards the summit of the Gunung Batur volcano, trying to keep up with the superficial pace of our walking guide/sherpa man. We soon learned that keeping up with a guide (who eats mountains for breakfast) when you have a sleeping two year old girl around your belly in a holding string, is in fact just as difficult, as it sounds like.
However, a couple of hours (and four sore feet) later we reached the top. Just in time to see the sun set from afar, making the clouds tingle like floating dust in the mist.
I grabbed my old iphone, (knowing the questionable - maybe even horrible -camera which Steve Jobs somehow forgot to make useful, couldn't possibly catch this moment) and took a snapshot right at the time, when the sun hovered across the skies and my daughter woke up in my arms. Both looking at me. Smiling.
And I smiled back.
And I still smile everytime I look at that once-in-a-lifetime depictured moment, which a crappy iphone camera somehow decided to grab, even though the specifications would say it's impossible.
So thank you Bali. And a thank you to you, Steve Jobs.