Bali Colors: heat and relief.

For my color series I usually isolate one color that defined a place for me, but the color scheme of Bali was a little too complex for that tactic. So much of the beauty of Bali was in its carefully balanced opposites; the good and evil in its religious epics, the beautiful and the grotesque in its temple architecture, the fire of a sambal and the cool bite of lime in its food. So in its colors too, it makes sense, there was a balance; between the heat of bursts of pink, orange and red, and the relief of deep green. 

Colors of Malaysia.

The remnants of a meal we enjoyed in Melaka may not be the most attractive subject for a photo, but when our dishes were piled up I was struck by one of the things I love most about Malaysia: the fantastic, over-the-top color sense that flows throughout the country. From the local architecture to the clashing shades on a kopi’s chopsticks and plates, this is a country that isn’t afraid to clash. And while some shades should seem not to work together, like lime green and electric tangerine, they somehow balance out and get along beautifully. Not a bad symbol for a country as diverse as Malaysia.

Colours of the Cape: Cape Dutch Gold.

Though its winters may be gray and dreary, the Cape is much better known for its golden summers. With the open sky and dry air, the sun is free to penetrate every corner of the Cape, filling the City Bowl and soaking the beaches. Perhaps it was in honor of this that the early Dutch settlers plastered the Cape Castle, their sea-front fortress, in an appropriately flaxen hue. The Castle must have set the tone for the style of the new settlement, and the colour brightens up much of the city's early colonial architecture. Thankfully, the shade has also been carried through to the modern day, where it still reflects back the warm light of the sun.

Colors of Phnom Penh: Green and White.

I have a complicated personal history with Phnom Penh. I have been taken sick on both of my visits to the Cambodian capital, so that some of my strongest memories of the city are of lying in bed in pain. And my first night there was spent feeling exhaustedly overwhelmed: by the traffic of motorbikes, the maimed beggars, and the clash of new development with destitute poverty. But in the end, it’s still one of the cities in Asia I think most longingly of. For somehow, despite its suffering history, its lingering ills, it’s a city where hope seems almost to be sprouting from the cracks in the pavement.

So maybe it’s fitting that the colours I associate with Phnom Penh are of green and white; of new growth an optimistic brightness. These colours flourished in the seasonal monsoons, succored in the cool shade of the city’s leafy sidewalk cafes, and gleamed in the verdant hues of its markets’ produce.

Colors of Hanoi: Empire Red

Hanoi’s colour palette tends toward the discreet: a mix of smoky greys in the medieval old quarter, pastel sherbet hues on the new French boulevards. This makes the sudden bursts of vibrant red that dot the city all the more intense. Red in Hanoi is an imperial colour. It flashes in Chinese shrines, in paper lanterns and packets of incense, and on carved temple doors. The colour was used again more recently with another Empire; Soviet influence in the Communist capital sparked a revival of the hue, where it was used to bold effect for official signs, on government buildings, and in propaganda posters.

Fyn colors.

While browsing among the exhibits at gorgeous Kirstenbosch Gardens on a recent sunny morning, I couldn't help but be taken with the amazing hues of the local plants. In particular, I loved the silvery-green shades of some of the aloes and the fynbos. An understated but warm colour scheme with a nicely masculine edge.

Colors of the Cape: Blue

“It was blue, all blue, blue was the colour of the Cape.” –Marlene Van Niekerk, ‘To Behold the Cape’

Blue is the colour of the two oceans that surround Cape Town, twisting the little peninsula of land between Indian and Atlantic currents. It is the colour of Table Bay, which from certain vantage points, the whole city seems ready to slide into. It is the colour of the vast, empty sky that lies open above the city on clear days. And it appears even in the land, in the rocks of the flat-topped mountain that defends the city, so that seen from a distance, the city itself seems but a thin ribbon between blue water, blue earth, and blue sky.

Mexico Colors: Blue, white, and just a little yellow.

I was in Mexico on vacation, so thankfully it didn't take much work to figure out what the colors of Puerto Vallarta were. They were, after all, the featured colors on the Jalisco state license plate. Beyond that, the colors blue and white, frequently paired with a splash of yellow, flowed throughout the city. The hues gleamed in glossy painted tiles, shone on colonial balconies, and brightened up neighborhood liqour stores. And, more obviously, they were the colors of the city's star attraction, the beach, where they appeared in the blue waves, white sand, and glints of yellow sun.

Taiwan Colors: NEON.

One of the most surprising things about Taiwan was finding that it had a teeming urban youth culture- and that culture had a color scheme. NEON. You'd glimpse it in downtown alleys, on electric-blue cargo shorts, and hot pink baseball caps. But it came out best at night, when the hues of the neon signs seemed to reflect in hip night market stands and blazing arcade parlors.

Taiwan Colors: Taiwan Teal.

Teal is not a color you encounter often. Too clinical to be comforting, too out-dated to be hip. But strangely, it seems almost to be the national color of Taiwan. It appeared in plastic phones, on pharmacy walls, and faded wooden doors. Yet odd as it is, it works. It paired surprisingly well with ocher bricks and vibrant red banners. And almost to assure us of its place in the Taiwanese color spectrum, it flows vibrantly through the halls of the new airport terminal.

Angkor Colors: Orange and Gray.

Photographing Angkor can be difficult. It can be hard to capture forms and contrast when the entire landscape is a dark shade of gray stone. But in between the slate walls and granite columns, there are spots of activity lite in splashes of bright orange. Though most Western visitors come to Angkor for its ruined 'Lost City' atmosphere, it's still a living site of religious importance. Sculptures of the Buddha are still lovingly draped in saffron silk robes, towering tangerine candles are lit in hallway altars.

Colors of the Nile Valley.

While working in a travel bookstore after college, I came to recognize different countries by their colors. We sold a large selection of glossy hard-cover books, and all the books on a particular country seemed to come in a distinctive color: China was red, both for communist propaganda and Imperial grandeur; Uganda was green for lush jungles and flooded plains; and Egypt was a lifeless sandstone, for sunburnt desert and wind bitten ruins. With these khaki book-bingings in mind, I arrived in Egypt expecting a landscape leeched by the sun of color. But looking out the window as my train rumbled toward Aswan, I was confronted by a glittering landscape of fields dripping neon green, and houses painted in pastel hues.

Bangkok Colors: White.

Sitting on the subway one afternoon, my eyes passed over three ladies dressed from head-to-heel in white. At first, I took them as three Buddhist nuns, with shaved heads and austere white robes. With a bit of surprise, I realized that only the first two were nuns: the third was a lavishly styled Hi-So woman, wearing a white silk suit, a massive white purse, and glamorously oversized white glasses. Ordinarily, white isn't a color I connect with Thailand (where every day of the week has its own color), or Bangkok (where pollution and pastel-paint coat every building). But upon looking back on these three women, I realized the degree to which white reflects two disparate sides of the Thai capital. White is a color of purity and austerity, but it's also a color of luxury and refinement. It's visible in the folded lotus buds at a shrine, or the porcelain tea sets of an elegant cafe; it shines in the hallowed walls of a grand Buddhist temple, and in the columns of the Erawan's temple to commerce.

Ko Samet Colors.

Last weekend I escaped the gray smog that had swallowed Bangkok, and traveled south to Ko Samet. The trip was worth it for the colors alone; foamy turquoise surf washed over blinding white sand, and fuchsia bougainvillea burned against a lush backdrop of emerald palms. After a day of exploring, I came across this electric blue spirit house, draped in pink ribbons and plastic marigolds. Shaded beneath it were offerings from the tropical isle: pale green bananas, and giant white seashells.

Bangkok Colors: Blue-green

While not really a single color on its own, this family of hues reflect Bangkok's aquatic nature. The faded aqua doors and chipped sea-foam shutters of old houses are revealing of Bangkok's past, when the city was originally aquatic, and navigated by swampy canals. And while perhaps more commuters now take the bus or the skytrain than the river ferries or khlong boats, this past is practically relived during the rainy season, when the sois and highways flood with rainwater.

Bangkok Colors: Gold

On Monday mornings, gold becomes the color of the Bangkok as the sidewalks crowd with the yellow polo shirts of loyal Royalists, showing their support for the king. If there were any color that defines the contrasts of Bangkok's urban culture, it might be gold. It is the shade of tropical heat, and of rapid commercial development. It is the hue of devotion: to king, to god, to money, and to food. It glints in towering business complexes and ornate temple spires, and it glistens on ripe mangos and in sizzling phad thai noodles.