Photography and text by Jessica Scranton

Spices. Dust. Rickshaws. Motorbikes. Pollution. Cows (and cow dung). Beggars. Mountain vistas. Desert.

And faces. All kinds of faces.

Jessica Scranton, AS'04, focused her camera on the exhilarating, disturbing, and striking sights she saw during ten months of travel and volunteer work in India, Thailand, Vietnam, and China.

She bypassed the typical tourist spots during her trip, which she financed herself with waitressing jobs. A double major in international affairs and photography, Scranton found herself drawn to the out-of-the-way.

Her sojourn began in India, where she worked for the Veerni Project, a volunteer program that aids rural women. Her first day in India, in late December 2004, was rough, she says. The dirt, the noise, and the poverty shocked her. She called her mother and cried.

Soon she felt more adjusted. And her adventures began. In Jodhpur, she tried to teach English to young girls, though she spoke little Hindi and they spoke no English. In a village west of Jodhpur, she watched a woman spend an hour making butter out of milk using a long wooden spoon, a bowl, and a leather strap. In Pushkar, she befriended a family of five living in a one-bedroom cement shack.

In a town in northern India—accessible via a bumpy bus ride up treacherous mountain roads—Scranton took another volunteer job, teaching English and art to Tibetan refugees. There, she met several young adults who'd fled Tibet years earlier. She later paid an emotional visit to their parents, still living in Tibet, who hadn't seen their children in a decade and who welcomed their American friend with tears and open arms.

Trekking through Vietnam, Scranton found breathtaking rolling hills and electric-green rice paddies, all bathed in a yellow light. In China, she hiked a natural wonderland of cloud-covered mountains and waterfalls; she also saw smog-filled cities, and a stark, treeless town filled with buildings covered in white tiles.

She got rashes and worm infestations and dysentery. She lived with giant flying cockroaches and spiders the diameter of golf balls. She often had to push away poor children asking for handouts.

The tough moments didn't deter her. Scranton loves meeting people whose lives are totally different from hers. "My camera," she says, "is a method of exploring the unknown."

Back home now, temporarily living with her parents (her dad, Rick Scranton, is an associate engineering dean at Northeastern), she's decided something she wasn't completely sure of before she left: She wants to be a professional photographer.

Here, through her words and unforgettable images, Scranton shares part of her journey.

— Karen Feldscher

A photographer's dream
Pushkar, India

Pushkar, in the state of Rajasthan, is a sacred pilgrimage site for Hindus. The creator god Brahma, it is said, dropped a lotus leaf from the sky, creating the small leaf-shaped lake at the town's center.

I was there at a time when, according to the Hindu calendar, taking a dip in the lake's holy waters cures all ills and purifies the body. Everywhere, the devout were bathing, praying, and feeding cows, a sacred animal in Hinduism. The stairs leading down to the lake, called ghats, were filled with colorful saris, bright turbans, and naked children. I fell in love with all the incredible sights around me.

Ordinarily, photography is forbidden at the lake, but I was accompanied by a Brahmin priest who gave me permission to take pictures. Not many people are given this opportunity. The result is one of my favorite series of color photos from my trip.

On a lakeside ghat.

Freewheeling cow.

Men reflected in a barber shop mirror.

Beauty and hardship
Rural communities, Rajasthan, India

I like to capture on film what I am trying to understand.

My first trip to Rajasthan came in January, when I began a three-month stint volunteering for the Veerni Project, which brings health care, community development, and education to women who live in villages out in the desert. I taught English and art to adolescent girls.

A medical team taught the women about hygiene, sanitation, childbirth, and nutrition. One week, I followed them around with my camera.

In the desert, it's nearly impossible to irrigate for cash crops, so many village men work in nearby cities, where they live for months at a time. The women at home have to do everything solo, from feeding the children to tending the cows. Despite their hardships, these women are able to smile, laugh, and dance.

Every morning, the villagers go to the water tanks, making five or six trips to get their water for the day. They carry buckets, which can weigh as much as twenty pounds, on top of their heads, somehow without spilling any water.

I also visited a carrot farm near Jodhpur, the second-largest city in Rajasthan. One of the women working there had a newborn, who was sleeping in the middle of the field. She stopped harvesting carrots for a few minutes so I could take a photo of her with her child.

Testing for anemia.

Villagers filling their water buckets.

Mother and newborn in a carrot field.

Breaking the ice
McLeod Ganj, India

My camera helped me connect with the children, and reach beyond the surface of their lives.

Every three days, the children take an outdoor bath. They disrobe and run around, splashing one another and taking turns in the tub. When it's time to lather up, they help clean one another. I was overwhelmed by these children's positive spirit.

Thirty to forty children under age three are cared for in the TCV baby room. Since they share only three nannies, most are starved for individual affection. I did a lot of hugging there. I'd put one child down, and another would be at my feet, begging for attention.

The baby room was a difficult place to be a photographer.

In the baby room.

Bath time at the TCV.

Behind the tourism
Northern Vietnam

Sapa is a picturesque region in northwest Vietnam, home to eighty or so hill tribes. Visually, the area is breathtaking—rolling, lush mountains, with stacked rice paddies built into the sides, like staircases made for giants.

This beauty, unfortunately, may have a negative side. Tourism is beginning to be a profitable industry around Sapa. In ten years, the landscape could be covered with resorts and swimming pools, and the hill people may become curiosities rather than functioning tribes.

Northern Vietnam also contains the Red River Delta, where the light is gentle and warm, like the Vietnamese people. I took a four-day trek here, riding a 1980s bike past green-yellow fields and red-gray water buffalo, a watercolor painting come alive.

My fellow trekkers and I got to meet our guide's grandmother, who lived in a nearby village. Her teeth were jet-black from chewing betel nuts. She had amazing energy—and a great smile.

Terraced hillside in Sapa.

Woman with blackened teeth.

High Hopes
Litang, China

I went to Litang, the highest town in China, to see its annual horse festival, which I'd heard is spectacular. However, the Chinese government didn't fund this year's event, so everything had to be financed and operated by local residents.

This man (below) was sitting contentedly in the doorway of a Tibetan monastery. I really liked the warm colors and the luminous glow from the hazy sunlight outside.

In five days, I never saw a horserace. But I did see some kids pedaling their bikes across the wet, grassy plains. And I got to see hours of Tibetan dancing. The young dancer I photographed is wearing a traditional outfit, complete with a beautiful silk shirt and an ornate beaded headdress.

Tibetan man.

Riding bikes, not horses.

For an online look at more of Jessica Scranton's travel images, visit www.goodganesh.blogspot.com and www.scrantonphoto.blogspot.com. On the Northeastern campus, an exhibition of Scranton's photography will be on display at the Curry Student Center art gallery from January 4 through 22.