Umm..Beirut. I know they say New York is the city that never sleeps but that’s a serious lie. People sleep a lot in New York. You walk around at 4am and it’s pretty quiet on the streets, and if people are still partying, it stays inside. Beirut, on the other hand. Beirut does not sleep. And I did not sleep in Beirut. The reason I’m writing this post so late is because I was busy catching up on the sleep that I lost in my 5 days there.
I feel like every city I fall madly in love with has some French history. Like New Orleans. And same with Beirut. Yes, colonization is a horrible thing and I should not embrace it. But, god damn, it made Beirut’s architecture so beautiful. Another horrible thing that I kind of love: the ruins of Lebanon’s civil war. Buildings and monuments previously bombed still stand tall amidst completely modern architecture, a reminder of the country’s bloody past. Also, the mixture of Christianity and Islam blending throughout the country. Walking into a cathedral and then entering a Mosque on the same block. Blew my mind.
Beirut is full of life and history, and Lebanon in general is a beautiful country. But, let me tell you, these people know how to party. Bar hopping until 6am, dancing to incredible music (except house, sorry, I hate house) and then hopping into a taxi that’s blasting incredible Arabic music on your way home for a quick nap before doing it all over again. AND THE FOOD. Oh my god, the food. Don’t even get me started because I’m about to cry now that I’m back in the Emirates.

Beirut, you are now on my top 3 list of incredible cities. Thank you!

Love always, a voiceless and sleepy Yumna.

View the rest of the photos here: Beirut

Just when I thought I couldn’t have fun in Abu Dhabi, it happens all at once.

Yachts, beaches, swimming pools, good food and endless dancing.

View the rest of the photos here: Play Hard

I spent my 24th birthday in the two countries that make up my blood. Yemen and Egypt. I know you’ve all heard me rant on about Yemen, a place so dear to me. But the truth is that I am only half Yemeni, my other half is Egyptian. Because of my distant relationship with my mother, I had never been to Egypt.
After news of my wonderful Swedish friends heading to Cairo to report, I decided to join. My family in Yemen threw me a surprise birthday party fully equipped with delicious food, amazing music and belly dancing, and I hopped onto a plane for Egypt right after.
Upon arrival, a football player-sized Egyptian man, Mowafak, was waiting for me with a sign that said my name in both English and Arabic. I immediately felt at home. We drove through Cairo with Om Kalthoum softly playing on the radio, until we reached the houseboat on the Nile that would become home for the next nine days.
Cairo was home to both my mother and father when they were my age. It’s where they met, where they were educated, a place that had to exist in order for me and my siblings to come into existence. As I roamed through Tahrir, I wondered what it was like for my father to go to that same square every day, attending university, having no clue of the symbolic value it would hold for me and my generation today.
Tahrir was an experience beyond words and photographs. The energy was epic, historic. I met brilliant and caring people in Tahrir. I felt a country coming together for freedom. Yes, there was violence, tear gas, disgusting instances of sexual harassment, but the good energy overpowered all of these things.

Egypt really stole my heart, and now that I’m in Abu Dhabi, I’m not really sure if this is where I’m meant to be living.
Cairo, I believe I’ll be seeing you again, very soon.

View the rest of the photos here: Cairo

News of hurricane Sandy hitting New York just days after my escape was heartbreaking. Seeing the damage and wishing I was there to help, to experience my home in such a state that I could barely wrap my mind around. It’s strange. But I’m here in Yemen, another home that I’ve been yearning to see for two years now.

As far as power shortages, low water supply-that’s a constant reality of life here in Yemen. Some days water is only running for a few hours, so we resort to our backups: buckets filled with water. Showering is quite the task and makes me feel incredibly spoiled for not initally knowing how to take a full shower with just one small bucket of water. Sometimes the power goes out for hours on end, either due to people destroying wires or just pure lack of technology to keep it on.

The last time I was here two years ago, the lack of resources such as water and electricity was bad, but it wasn’t as bad as this. It’s never been bad as this, and I know it’s only getting worse. As far as political issues, it’s of course, not as bad as the news portrays it to be here in the South (most of the trouble is North, near the capital of Sana’a). Sometimes I think the government tries to scare Yemeni people into thinking things are becoming stricter, tighter, with things such as road checkpoints every few kilometers. In reality, the guards are just chewing qat and resting lazily while their AK’s hang loosely around their backs. I photograph them with no problem, sometimes they even pose for me. The citizens just live as if the checkpoint is a bump on the road, with their children standing on truck beds while they drive in the middle of the lanes and chew qat as well.

If you ever want to experience a land without law, order or modern technology, come to Yemen. I feel as though my photographs can’t even capture how insane this place is, how different it is from the modern world I’ve lived in. Sometimes I have to pinch myself and say, “Am I really here? Is this place even real? Are my roots seriously based HERE of all god damn places?!” But then I remember how lucky I am to have a family here to keep me safe, to be my fixers, it’s a journalists dream.

I’m happy, my family is happy, throughout all the political bullshit and lack of water/power, people here are happy. They’re giving, they’re kind, peaceful, hospitable. The only thing that they are not is forward-thinking (the majority, at least). Their means of logic is based in old Islamic medieval times. Women’s rights, LGBT rights, things of the such. Those things don’t apply here. Sometimes it makes me crazy to argue, to teach them, but sometimes it’s not even worth it. I have MALE (!) cousins of mine nagging at me to wear a niqab (the face cover) if I have so much as mascara on my face, even if I’m already draped in black from my hair to my toes (in the abaya and hijab). That bothers me to no end, and in regards to that matter, I defend myself and the women around me until they just learn to let go.

Aden was once free, open-minded, progressive-all less than 30 years ago. Looking back on its rich history, I feel so confused as to how much a society can regress in such a short amount of time. These photographs and words are just the tip of the iceberg in regards to what I’m working on during my few weeks here in Yemen. Let’s say, a quick introduction. Can’t wait to share more, real soon.

View the rest of the photos here: Aden

Due to current political turmoil, I wasn’t able to get on a plane from JFK to Yemen last week. I struggled for 18 hours with my Yemeni family on the phone yelling in one ear to get on the plane anyway, while airport staff threatened to deport me if I stepped foot Yemen. “You’re an Arashi! You have Yemeni blood! Don’t they understand how things work here?,” “Ma’am, if you enter Yemen as an American citizen, you will be arrested and deported. We cannot advise you to get on this plane.”
I decided to play it safe. With my layover Istanbul, I stayed a few days after Eid passed and the consulate in Turkey reopened. The staff knew my family, and thankfully pulled a few strings for me to enter.
My few days alone in Istanbul were interesting, my Eid spent alone was unexpected. I was literally thrown into the city with no prior plans, no accommodations, no language and no contacts at all. But I enjoyed every minute of it. I’m glad my adventure began this way- thrown into the fucking deep end all alone, and warmed up for the rest of my long swim home.
Istanbul is a spectacular city, but I am so glad to finally be in Yemen. Let the magic begin!

View the rest of the photos here: Istanbul

I cannot believe summer is coming to an end. But, what an amazing one it has been. Here are some shots from August, I think the pictures speak for themselves.

View the rest of the photos here: The Rest of August

I woke up on Wednesday morning with an adorable French man laying in my bed. We hadn’t had sex, we didn’t even kiss. Why was he in my bed? I felt awkward and didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. I texted Jac immediately, “how do I get him to leave?” and soon enough, my phone rang and Jac was on the line, “Hey! I’m on my way over to finish the edits for the video!” I played along and he was gone.
Jac and I giggled about it over brunch, and under the laughter I could feel the familiar urge to escape creeping up on me. It was Wednesday, Jac’s day off, and I tend to be really good at leaving most situations when they no longer make me happy. I’m not quite sure if that’s a good quality of mine, but that was none of my concern. The city wasn’t making me happy and I wanted to leave.
Next thing we know, we’re in my car, stuck in traffic in the Bronx, and I had to pee. I’m staring at the empty plastic cup from our iced coffee, remembering the time me and my dad were stuck in traffic on our way back from the Outer Banks and he made me go into the backseat so he could pee in a water bottle. Traffic wasn’t moving. I tell Jac I’m sorry for having to do this so early in our friendship, but I can’t hold it. I take the plastic cup into my backseat and let it go, crouched and trying to control myself as to not overflow or spill anywhere. Jac is laughing hysterically at the wheel, “two chicks one cup!” and I can’t help but laugh and simultaneously beg her to stop joking so I won’t make a mess. One cup is full, and I toss it out the window as I start my next round. It felt good, it felt really good.
It took us about two and a half hours to finally start moving again. We didn’t know where exactly we were going but we start heading in the direction of a place where Jac had once been upstate. We agreed that we didn’t want to come back to the city that night, and if anything, we had my car to sleep in. I was people watching while Jac continued to drive and spotted a man laughing. His smile reminded me of an old friend, Derek, and I instantly remembered that he had a beautiful home upstate. I contacted him and he was ecstatic to have us. But first, we wanted to find a body of water to watch the sunset and take a swim at dusk.
Once the sun started to set, we pulled off at a random exit and jumped in the water nearby. The light was perfect, and we were alone. Once dusk hit, we walked around the eerie neighborhood. Jac stopped me and pointed to the bushes. “Are those fireflies!?!” I was confused, of course they were fireflies, “I’ve never seen a firefly before!” I ran into the field to catch one for her. Something that had been such a normal recurrence for me was something she had never once experienced. We were in bliss.
Night hit and we were back on the road. Another hour and a half to Derek’s home. We took the back roads, through the small towns, brights on, spotting deer and swerving around road kill. We made it to Derek’s by midnight, but he wasn’t home yet. Exhausted, we settled in and fell straight asleep only to wake to Derek coming home a few hours later. I jumped on him in my sleepy state, gave him a huge kiss, thanked him, and went straight back to sleep.
In the morning, Jac and I turned to one another in total amazement. “Where the hell are we? How did we get here? Let’s not go back today.” And so we stayed. We cooked breakfast, we explored town, we borrowed bikes and photographed the beauty that surrounded us, we ate, we laughed, we talked about outer space and danced to cheesey music.
We were reminded of the magic outside the city. And sometimes, if we let it, it’s so much more exciting and inspiring than what we normally hold so high. Something that costs nothing, that requires no altered states, that reminds you; you are just as much a part of it as it is part of you. We were reminded. Be spontaneous, take chances, explore.

View the rest of the photos here: Upstate

Some snapshots from my week in Los Angeles. Thanks for the good times, you pretty thing.

View the rest of the photos here: Postcards from California

Have you ever visited a land that captivated you so much that the thought of pulling out a camera hardly ever crossed your mind?

That was New Orleans for me. I basically had to force myself to take photos because I knew I’d hate myself if I didn’t. But holy fucking shit, what a city. And visiting it for the first time during Mardi Gras made it pure magic! I was lucky enough to have the wonderful Clayton Cubitt and his beautiful wife KT show me around the city, his hometown. So glad I did, because if I had no idea about what was really going down in NOLA aside from the douche-baggery of Bourbon street, I think I would have totally hated it. Just so much magic everywhere, life on every block, history in every breath you take. The people are all so kind and so creative, and so involved in the city- especially during Mardi Gras. I spent my time exploring, hanging out with beautiful people, floating naked in salt-water pools, people watching, wearing bindis, eating, laughing, eating more (HOLY BEIGNETS…mmmm)

While visiting Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo, I read a small note that described the city as a chakra point on the Earth’s surface. That’s the best way to describe New Orleans. A chakra point.

(roll over images for captions!)

View the rest of the photos here: New Orleans

Thank you Irene. Thank you Virginia. Thank you friends.

View the rest of the photos here: Virginia Is For Lovers