Keep Your Cool

I’m not a writer. I’m not a photographer.

I’m a businessman. I’m an accountant. I’m a mediator. I’m a politician.

If you plan on taking photos or writing for a living, then you’ll need to become all these things too. Even if you don’t want to (trust me when I say I’d rather be anything than a politician). There are times in my career when I feel slighted, short changed, or flat out kicked in the teeth. But I know I have to keep my cool. I can’t let emotions get the best of me. Being a creative professional still means being a professional. Walking, talking and acting like a professional too.

I’ll let you in on a little secret; if you’re a creative type, the world has no real idea how to value your work. None. Someone once offered me $15 for a print they could hang on their living room wall. The same week, an advertising agency paid $5,500 to use one of my images in a commercial campaign. It makes it tough to know where we stand with a camera in hand, ya know?

Complicating matters further is the fact that some good photographers charge too little for their services and some bad photographers charge too much. Worse still, some photographers who think they are good have no idea that they’re really quite bad, messing up the market for all of us (all of us including everyone who owns a digital camera, which is the one and only prerequisite for being a professional photographer these days, of course).

Today’s lesson is simple: don’t take it personally when someone undervalues your work, because they probably don’t know they’re doing it. If cases where they do know and they’re trying to take advantage of you, stay doubly cool – the last thing you want to do in this game is burn your bridges. The creative world is too small for you to do that.

Study this case.

Summer 2011. I pitched a story to an upmarket travel magazine. The editor got back to me and told me that he liked the pitch and wanted to commission the full story. I was, of course, thrilled. I spent the next week working on the story, editing photos to run with the story, and packaging this stuff together with all manner of service info. I handed the package in, went through revisions with the editor, and sat back to relax.

A few weeks later the editor sent me a PDF of the article. In turn, I asked how much I should put on my invoice.

Editor: Flash, we didn’t discuss a fee when we first started talking about this.

Flash: Right. That’s why we’re talking about it now.

Editor: Since we didn’t discuss compensation, I assumed you understood you would be doing this story for free.

Flash: Well, I don’t make it a habit to work for free, of course. You could have easily assumed that I would expect to be compensated for my work. If I were in the business of working for free I wouldn’t be in much of a business.

Editor: I’m sorry, Flash. We’ve already gone to print and we’ve closed the outstanding accounts for the month.

Of course, this last little bit was total BS. I knew that. My editor knew that. But as far as I was concerned, I had two courses of action here:

Option 1. Lose my cool. Get upset. Call this editor greedy and unfair. Beret him. Rip into him. Demand to be compensated for my work.

My work hadn’t just been undervalued in this case; it had been wholly devalued. It really hurt to know that I wasn’t going to be paid for writing this story or shooting these images when the magazine was going to turn around and charge advertisers $500 or more to run ads right there next to them. My work was worthless, yet it was good enough to bring in a few grand in advertising revenue. Ouch.

I knew I was never going to see a penny for this story. I had made a huge tactical error in not negotiating a price before doing the work; this was a big magazine and I assumed I would be paid their standard contributor rate for my first submission. I was wrong. I would never make this mistake again. Getting mad after the fact would only serve to ruin any chance I had of working with this editor and this magazine in the future.

Option 2. Keep my cool. Remain professional.

I went with Option 2. I thanked the editor for the opportunity to work with him and the magazine and expressed my desire to do so again – under different circumstances, where things would be laid out clearly for both parties before pen went to paper.

Some people might say that I could have done more; I could have taken legal action, pressured the magazine and the publisher, wrote a nasty letter to the press, and so on and so forth. But what you have to remember is that the publishing world is very, very small. This editor had already worked at two of the biggest magazines in the Western media market. He knew a lot of people. He could do much more damage to my career than I could do to his. If he labeled me a difficult writer, someone not worth the trouble of working with, I’d have little chance of working with anyone he knew in the future.

Yeah, it was a tough choice. A tough pill to swallow. But I did it.

A few months later I saw an email from that same editor in my inbox. He was requesting a story + photos from me. He apologized for what had happened earlier and offered to pay me my standard rate +15%, just to show that he appreciated my hard work.

I accepted, with one caveat: the magazine had to agree to buy two stories, and pay me when I turned in the first. The editor said that would be tough to do, that they could only commission one for the time being. I stuck to my guns; two stories or no stories. I wanted to know that they were serious about working with me. I wanted them to show a little faith. Otherwise I could walk away and start work on something else.

A few days later the editor came back to me and said that the magazine would buy both stories. One $5,100 invoice later I felt like I had recouped a little of what I had lost on the first piece. I also salvaged a business relationship and got to see two new stories in print. I kept my cool. It was difficult to do, but I did it.

I learned a hard lesson about this business: there’s no room for hurt feelings or for pride. To succeed you need a short memory, thick skin and the ability to conduct yourself professionally when it would be oh, so much easier to scream at the top of your lungs.

In short: practice politics.

I could write about times when I didn’t keep my cool. I could write about times I did, and I still ended up taking a shot on the chin. The point is that being a creative professional is tough. People are going to attribute value to your work in their own way. You’re not always going to agree, though you should always remember that the best way to get ahead, to progress your career and to remain working once you’ve started is to act like the consummate professional.

Work hard on one project. Work harder on the next. Don’t give anyone on a reason to undervalue your work and you’ll sleep better at night, even when things spiral out of your control.

- flash

Drinking from the Tap (and other mistakes travelers make)

Despite having me teeth smashed out of my skull, I’m feeling pretty good. Blame it on all the wonderful drugs my dentist gave me.

To say that I’ve made my share of mistakes on the road is the understatement of the year. Most mistakes are the result of an inane inability to follow rules, listen to direction or use discretion in almost any conceivable circumstance. But that’s just me.

When I sat down this morning to work on a fresh blog post, my mind got to wandering. I started thinking about the time I pepper sprayed a monk’s dog in Laos after accidentally interrupting a prayer ceremony. Then I thought about the time a jellyfish stung me in the face in the Philippines after our boatmen told me not to jump in the water. As I thought about more foolish things that have happened to me and the countless others I have brought down upon myself, I decided to jot down a few notes – with Megan helping to fill in the gaps as needed (she’s not one to let me forget when I’ve done something stupid, bless her heart).

I’ve had teeth knocked out of my head, broken bones, had a gun pulled on me, been attacked by animals, fallen ill and been beaten up – all the things that help make travel great and keep us feeling alive.

So, dear friends and fellow travelers – I present to you the following list of mistakes I’ve made on the road. You should avoid doing the same if you can, though I know some of you have been felled by the very same pitfalls. At least we can laugh about it now.

10. Spending a Night in an Airport

It has happened to everyone I know. No matter what, it always sucks. In 2010 Megan and I were en route from Medan, on the island of Sumatra, to Jogja on the island of Java. It was supposed to be another routine series of flights – we flew from Medan to Jakarta on Air Asia and thought we would buy an onward ticket to Jogja and be on our way in a few hours.

No such luck.

We didn’t realize that Ramadan had started and every single resident of Indonesia was on the move. Not only were there no available flights, but there were no train tickets and no hotels rooms open. Anywhere. So we unfurled our towels and sweaters and curled up on the cockroach-infested benches at Jakarta International and wept softly as passers by farted, burped and tossed cigarette butts at us. This wasn’t the first time we spent a night in an airport, and it wasn’t the last, but it sure as hell was the worst.

Adam only looks cool here because he didn’t crash his scooter. Smug jerk.

9. Crashing Renting a Scooter

Renting a scooter wouldn’t be such a dangerous ordeal if, you know, you actually knew how to drive one back home. I have been on a motorcycle a few times in my life (I cried during every ride) but I had never been on a scooter before I got behind the handle bars in Cambodia in January of 2010. My pal Adam and I decided that we would drive a few hundred km along the coast to check out a mangrove swamp. I tried to show off. I crashed, flipped over the handle bars and shredded parts of skin I didn’t even know I had.

That crash hasn’t stopped me from renting a scooter in every country I’ve been in since, of course. But it did convince me to wear a helmet.

Parts of several frogs. One of the strangest things I’ve eaten on the road.

8. Eating Meat

Eating meat in the developing world is such a batshit stupid idea, yet I love to do it. Thailand, Laos and Vietnam would have some of the best street food in the world – if it weren’t for South Korea. Seoul alone has more street vendors than any other country on earth, and the wealth of riches available to your tickle your taste buds is staggering. Yet South Korea is a largely developed nation with pretty decent health standards when it comes to processing, storing and preparing meat (I like to believe this, at any rate). Not so for the rest of Asia. I’ve eaten rat, parts of a frog’s head, rattlesnake, ostrich, the back end of an ox, rotten sting ray, raw sea cucumber, cobra and all sorts of other weird shit that I can’t even begin to describe. I’ve gotten sick off it, too. Mud-Butt haunts my dreams.

What I won’t do, ever, is eat meat in South Asia. Megan and I visited India, Nepal and Sri Lanka this year, and we lived on beans and greens. I refuse to eat garbage goat.

This guy knows how to play with animals.

7.  Playing with Animals

Say, you want to pet that cute dog, do you? Then you won’t mind ingesting tablets as big as a camel’s hump after it bites you. The only thing worse than being bitten by a rabies-infected animal is the hell you have to go through after the fact. Thankfully, I’ve never been bitten by an animal while traveling, though a dog did try and get me in Luang Prabang last year. I got him, though, right between the eyes – with two squirts from my canister of bear spray.

I don’t screw with animals. When they screw with me, I take dramatic action. I don’t pet tigers, I don’t let monkeys pick strange shit out of my hair, and I never, ever let a cat lick my feet.

This is still a better alternative to public transportation.

6. Riding the Bus

My friend Phil once said that riding the bus is for peasants and prostitutes. I have to say that I agree. I will always and forever take dramatic steps to make sure that I don’t have to take a bus someplace remote. I once rented a private mini-bus to take Megan and I from Lake Maninjau to Lake Toba in Indonesia. We had so much free space, and we looked so comfortable during the first hour of our trip, that our driver decided to stop and pick up a family of 11 + all the luggage in the world + 5 sacks of rice + an empty water bottle – the kind you use in an office water cooler – just for good measure. For 18 hours I sat next to a guy who used my thigh as a scratching post while Indonesian pop beats belted my ear drums and Megan cried softly beside me. Twice I pissed my pants. The man next to me shit in his. I swore we would never travel by public bus again.

Then we did it again. We took a bus ride in Nepal that was so bumpy I was once launched out of my seat and hit my head on the roof – four and a half feet above me. One time in Myanmar I engaged in a war of attrition with a man who wanted to spit betel nut across my face and out the window, when I did not want him to. It did not end well for either of us.

Don’t be an idiot. Don’t take the bus. Hire a car and driver, or splurge for the deluxe AC model your hotelier wants to rip you off for. You know you would only spend the extra money on booze, anyway.

5. Losing my Wallet

You really don’t want to do this. I’ve lost my wallet in three countries and counting. Ever tried to prove your identity in a foreign country when you don’t have a single piece of ID on you? You’ll have better luck running for Syrian parliament than getting out of the country unscathed by the judicial system.

If you lose your wallet, you’ll actually have more luck – and a better chance at getting home – by buying a fake ID off the street, growing a beard and acquiring an accent. Then all you have to do is secure passage on a cargo ship out of Hong Kong, and head for Western waters. Just make sure you’re not en route to Somalia. All the fake cell phones in the world won’t save you from the pirates.

4. Filling up my Passport

Do. Not. Fill. All. The. Pages. In. Your. Passport. When. You. Are. On. The. Road.

Unless you are an American citizen – then it’s totally cool. Megan’s passport was down to two empty pages by the time we landed in Laos late last year. So we headed south for Vientiane and we stopped in at the American embassy. There we waited for an hour, before Megan was presented with 80 (or 40, or whatever, I can’t remember) brand new pages stitched into her passport, to the tune of $83. Not a bad deal, if you ask me.

I knew my passport was filling up, too. I had even called Passport Canada before we left the country and asked if I could get a new one prior to our trip. I was told that I would have to do it on the road, since I had too many blank pages.

“But all my pages will be filled after the first three weeks of our trip!”

“I’m sorry sir, we can’t help you.”

So, we get to Laos and find out there’s no Canadian embassy. Our next option? Vietnam. You would think that a country that shares a socialist system so much like our own would make things easier on visitors. I visited the Canadian embassy and spent the better part of a day filling out forms to get a new temporary passport.

“What the hell do I do with a temporary passport?” I asked the lady at the embassy.

“You exchange it for a real passport when the time comes.”

“The time is now. Please accept this temporary passport on my behalf and give me a new real passport,” I said.

“It doesn’t work that way,” the lady said.

It doesn’t work at all, actually. For those of you who don’t know, a temporary passport is much the same as a real passport, save that it is white, not blue, and contains only four pages. I don’t know why the hell the Canadian embassy in Vietnam went through the trouble of creating a new temporary passport when they could have just given me a new real passport, but that’s the system and that’s how it screws you over.

With my new temporary passport in hand – it only took three days to issue – I was told to visit Hong Kong to pick up my new real passport. Hong Kong, is, of course, the land that created red tape.

First of all, getting out of Vietnam was a pain in the ass. The Canadian embassy voided my old (full) passport, which contained my Vietnamese entry stamp and VISA. So when I tried to leave, I had a fresh and clean blank passport. That didn’t make anyone at the airport happy and I nearly missed my flight, even though I was still in possession of the old passport and had 5,534 pieces of ID to back up my existence (remember when I talked about losing my wallet? I try to make sure that doesn’t happen anymore by taping pieces of photo-ID to my underpants). I was allowed to board just in time to take a swift beating from the Hong Kong immigration officials.

I’ll make this long story a little shorter.

I picked up my new passport at the Canadian embassy in Hong Kong and handed in my temporary passport. Which meant that I was now in possession of another brand new, totally blank passport – with no entry visa/stamp. So we visited Hong Kong immigration, known locally as the seventh circle of hell, and waited FIVE HOURS to get a stamp you get at the airport in five minutes. It cost me nearly $200, too. Nice touch, that. All in all, it cost me more than $500 + a trip to Hong Kong to get a new passport. It cost Megan $83. The icing on the cake? My new passport expires in 2016. Megan’s old passport, the smug little prick bursting at the seams with new pages? It expires in 2017. Sweet.

We were also denied an opportunity to visit China on this trip, since Chinese immigration will not issue a VISA for a temporary passport. Smooth.

So, dear friends – if you are a Canadian citizen, like me, and you live in Canada and you love Canada, like me, you should be extra nice to your local passport official when asking for your new passport. Trust me on this one.

3. Drinking the Water

They told us not to drink the water in Nepal. So we stocked up on bottled water and did our best to avoid the tap. Then I had a shower and brushed my teeth and forgot all about those warnings. so I got sick, and Megan got sick, and  continued to brush my teeth with contaminated water, so I stayed sick.

Don’t drink tap water when you’re on the road. But try your best not to drink tap water, either – if you can, stock up on purification tablets before you hit the road, or better still, buy a bottle with a built-in filter or one of those amazing UV purifiers. Getting sick off food is one thing; I half expect it, and don’t really mind spending a night on the toilet after trying some new and exciting dish. Getting sick off water is just annoying.

Megan looks like she’s having a lot of fun, right? Wouldn’t you rather be at the world’s most wretched hospital rather than one of the most spectacular beaches in the world? Yeah, sure you would.

2. Visiting the Dentist (or the Hospital)

I’ve had to visit the dentist in a foreign land more out of necessity than anything else, but it was stupidity that sent me there in the first place. New Years Eve 2008; I was partying the night away with some friends in Seoul when a soldier decided to use my face as place to rest his forehead. Six trips to the dentist, a set of dark yellow teeth and a few thousand dollars later, I had a face full of new veneers.

Last year Megan and I visited Sri Lanka. Megan busted some toes on the beach. We had to visit the hospital. We could have had our hotel’s resident doctor check her out, but we wanted to get x-rays (we were about to go hiking in Nepal and wanted to know if there was any serious damage). We sat in a waiting room where nurses used dirty razors to shave patients. We saw bloody needles on the floor. We sat in a long, cramped hallway filled with patients with TB. We visited an operating theatre where we had to take off our shoes and walk through three inches of water – while a man with an open, festering wound on his leg sat next to us.

We probably caught something much worse than a broken toe while visiting that hospital. I swore that in the future I would only buy travel insurance that included free helicopter transport to Singapore or Hong Kong.

*At the end of the day, no one bothered inspecting Megan’s toes, anyway. Doctors were too busy dealing with monkey bites and jellyfish attacks, etc. etc. We would have been better off visiting with that resident doctor in the first place – we wouldn’t have had to leave the beach or expose ourselves to infectious disease.

Playing with strangers is fun!

1. Riding with Strangers

Generally, riding with strangers isn’t such a big deal – I’ve done it in Laos, in Thailand, in Korea, pretty much all over Asia. Where I wouldn’t recommend doing this sort of thing is in the Western world, where people are in general 100% stranger and more devious.

Visiting Germany back in 2001, I had a few too many Hefeweizens and couldn’t find my way home. I stopped a few cars to ask for directions, but since my German language skills were (are) nonexistent, I didn’t get far. Until I stopped a trucker who was very, very eager to give me a ride. I don’t remember much of that ride, only that it took longer than it probably should have. That I even came out of that one alive is a miracle. I’ve since been a little better at choosing who I ride with… but not much better.

Mexico, New Year’s Eve 2004.

I was at a bar with my friends when I decided I had had enough and wanted to go home. I got into a cab and told the driver to take me to my hotel. The driver told me he had given me a ride before, when some other friends were in the car with me. One of those friends had lost a camera and the driver said he would give it back to me – if I came back to his house with him. I said I would, of course! Sensible.

We drove to this man’s house in a shanty town where armed men guarded razor wire fences and where each house had a resident pitbull guarding the front door. I waited in the car for what seemed like a long time, wondering if my friends would ever find my body, and whether or not my assailants would do me the dignity of leaving my haggard frame clothed or not.

The driver returned to the car and brought with him the camera. Then he drove me to his friend’s house where we had a couple of beers and chatted about life north of the border (north of two borders, I guess). Then he drove me back to the hotel and wished me well – didn’t even charge me for the ride.

I started this by saying you shouldn’t accept rides from strangers. I’m not so sure of that now, to be honest. It seems like a perfectly good idea to me. People aren’t nearly as scary as we’d like to pretend they are. Next time you’re out late at night, do accept a ride from someone you’ve never met before. It’ll be an adventure. Don’t be so afraid of the world.

Part of what makes me a successful travel writer is my willingness to put myself in awkward/stupid/dangerous situations. I wouldn’t be able to write about exciting things if exciting things didn’t happen to me, after all. You can call it negligence or carelessness – I call it adventure. Whatever it is, it doesn’t really matter – it serves to inspire me. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

-flash

Inspiration is Everything: 2012 Photography Contest

INSPIRATION IS EVERYTHING

We travel for different reasons. Some of us love the thrill of visiting a faraway, exotic destination. Others want to know what it’s like to sample cuisine from the other side of the world. And there are those of us who just want to dig our toes into the sand on a tropical beach and forget about the rest of the world for a while. Sometimes we travel to experience something new. Sometimes we travel to experience something that will teach us about ourselves. At the end of the day, we all travel to experience.

To mark the release of our first photography guide book, we are launching a photography contest about your experiences, your inspiration, and your photography.

INSPIRATION IS EVERYTHING: 2012 PHOTOGRAPHY CONTEST

We want to know what inspires you to travel. We want to see what inspires you to take pictures when you’re on the road. Share your experiences and your inspiration with us, and you could win a prize or two.

Here is the easy part: all you need to do is upload a photo to our Facebook page or share a link to your favorite photo with us, and tell us why you were inspired to create the image in the first place. You can write us an essay if you feel like it. You can sum up your entire experience in a single word, if that’s what you feel like doing. It’s up to you.

Keep in mind that we want to see your best travel photo – not Steve McCurry’s. The photograph you enter must be your own original property. We don’t want to see your mom’s favorite photo or an album of pix from that uncle of yours that works for National Geographic. Unless they enter the contest themselves. That would be totally cool.

PRIZES

The winner will receive a Crumpler 5 Million Dollar Home camera bag, perfect for a compact, micro-four-thirds or average size SLR camera + lenses and accessories. This is the same sort of gear that Flash Parker uses in the field, so you know it either looks good or works pretty well.

The winner will also receive a copy of Photography 101: Inspiration is Everything, the first photography guide book from Flash Light Expeditions.

A few finalists will also receive a copy of Photography 101 and some other stuff we’re going to surprise you with as the contest rolls along. Yeah, we’re sneaky like that. We know you like surprises.

RULES AND OUR DARK SECRET

That’s right, we have a dark secret. We want more people to like us. Yeah, we crave attention. We need it. We won’t be happy until 25,000 people LIKE our Facebook page – and then we’ll set our sights on 50,000. We want your help to spread the word, so we’ve come up with these rules for our photography contest:

1. Upload your photo to our Facebook page, or share a link to your photo on our wall.

2. LIKE our Facebook page, if you haven’t already.

3. SHARE our Facebook page with your friends – at least 100 of them.

4. Sit back, relax, and WIN.

That’s it. Pretty simple. We’re not after your first born. We’re not asking you to reinvent the wheel. Heck, we’re not even asking for money. We’re asking you to spread the word about Flash Light Photography Expeditions while sharing your favorite photograph with us. This contest is open to people anywhere in the world – it wouldn’t be much of a photography contest if you couldn’t get out and shoot someplace exciting.

WINNERS AND FINE PRINT

The contest closes on February 29^th. Winners will be announced March 1^st. Judging will be done in a non-scientific manner by Dylan Goldby, Len Payne, Megan Ahrens and Flash Parker – otherwise known as the Flash Light Admin Division.

The winning image will be showcased on the Flash Light webpage.

In case you were wondering, yes, you retain full rights and ownership to your photography. We don’t want your photos – we just want to look at them. We have enough of our own, anyway. We promise not to use your image for any commercial or promotional purposes without your consent. That just wouldn’t be cool. If you took it, you own it.

 

Visit us and enter your image:

www.facebook.com/flashlightexpeditions

www.flashlightexpeditions.com

Photographers Behaving Badly

Photographers sometimes behave badly.

This irks me. It should irk you. What makes one of us look foolish, irresponsible or downright mean reflects upon all of us. Photographers sometimes get a bad wrap because a few people don’t know how to play in the sandbox; I hate jumping over cat turds in the sandbox.

I consider myself a responsible traveler first and a responsible photographer second. I go out of my way not to offend local customs, social mores, cultural norms, etc. when I’m working in the field. Sadly, I meet many, many would-be photographers who think a camera attached to their face is a license to act like an asshole.

It isn’t. Under no circumstances. Ever. When photographers behave badly it makes my job more difficult. It makes travel a pain. Worst of all, it hurts the very people we have come to visit.

If you’re a burgeoning travel photographer, someone who likes to shoot in public on a regular basis or just a person that likes to whip out their point and shoot when the mood strikes you, I’d like to offer a few remarks on how to behave in public so that you, the people you’re interacting with and the people that will come after you will be able to carry on living in peace and harmony.

CASE ONE: What you’re really paying for.

People love to visit exotic destinations where they’ll have the opportunity to meet and interact with local people. I know I do. Meeting people is the best part of travel. Meeting indigenous ethnic tribal people? Photographers love that more than anything. Every travel photographer I’ve ever met dreams of a portfolio populated with romantic images of ethnic peoples in their native environments. But that doesn’t mean you need to pay for it.

Megan and I visited Sapa, a fertile hill region in Northern Vietnam known as a colonial hill station for a few centuries and now one of the country’s biggest tourist draws. The main reason, save for the mild climate, trekking opportunities and stunning landscape vistas, is the chance visitors are afforded to get up close and personal with villagers from local tribes.

Visitors know this. Hotel owners and tour operators know this. And, of course, the villagers know this. As you want to benefit from your visit by the experience and the images you create, so too do the villagers wish to benefit – generally, on an economic level. And there’s nothing wrong with that. How Western visitors have responded, however, is a problem.

It’s not uncommon to be approached by a local villager in the streets of Sapa or the surrounding countryside. Generally, pleasantries are exchanged. The villager may want to know where you’re from; they may want to know how old you are; they may want to know what you think of their country. If they want to know more, you may engage in an exciting conversation that is beneficial and enjoyable to both parties. Then again, they may be warming you up in order to sell you a handmade blanket, a sweater, a hat, a silver bracelet or four of their children. Buy something if you want to. Help the free economy flourish. What you shouldn’t do, however, is pay to take that villager’s photo.

Think it’s a good idea to give a villager a dollar in exchange for a photo? Then I’m sure you won’t mind having them follow you on your eight hour hike through the hill county.

 

I can’t tell you how many times a villager in Vietnam would wave at me to get my attention, motion for me to take their photo, then come running over demanding a dollar. The first time this happened, I thought it was funny. By the tenth time, I realized something was wrong. I realized that tourists were giving the villagers money to make their photos, effectively offering handouts to people begging in the streets. I use tourists in the pejorative sense because experienced photographers should know better than to do this sort of thing. Of course, that’s not really the case. I once ran into a well-known professional photographer on assignment in India: he was shooting sleeping homeless people at a Hindu temple. I didn’t ask him who he was shooting for (I had a pretty good idea), but I did ask him if what he was doing ever made him feel uncomfortable. “Only when they wake up and try and talk to me,” he said.

I’ve lived abroad long enough that whenever I hear the term they I immediately associate the user with the term asshole. I’ve decided I probably don’t want to run a workshop with that guy.

Most people wouldn’t consider giving a dollar to a homeless person in their own country because they know there are better ways to help another human being: offer food, shelter, support by way of a donation to a charitable cause, etc. etc. It’s no different on the road. I’m not saying don’t give – I’m saying don’t give money. It is one of the most irresponsible things you can do, and it contributes more to a culture of begging than it does anything else.

I was in a rice paddy shooting landscape photos when a villager with a loaded basket came into my viewfinder. She saw me and we smiled at one another. I held up my camera, indicating that I wanted to take a photo with her in it. She nodded back. I fired a few frames, unaware that another photographer had come up behind me and was shooting the same photo. When the villager saw that there were two of us, she held out her hand, asking for money. I waved me head and put my camera away. The other photographer nodded and continued shooting. When he was finished, he gave her five dollars. She didn’t thank him. She asked him for more. When he balked, she asked me. I said no. She decided that she would follow the other photographer while he trekked through the rice fields. When I saw that photographer again, 30 minutes later in a nearby village, the same woman was following him, but now he had three other local ladies on his heels and a group of kids about eight deep hanging off of him begging for money. I saw him reach into his wallet a few times, and no doubt he thought he was doing a good thing. Sadly, he wasn’t; he was perpetuating the stereotype of the rich Western visitor and encouraging the village people to beg everyone that they happen to come into contact with. There’s no worthy cultural exchange going on here. We’re not learning anything about one another. It is one person looking at the other as an object, one as the means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less.

Take the photo because you, and the person you’re taking the photo of, want to do it. Think twice about pressing the shutter if there are other motives in play.

 

My solution? Don’t take that photo.

That’s right. The next time someone demands you pay for an image, say no thank you. Walk away. Put your camera in your bag. Look for another photo opportunity someplace else. Do it because you know you’re doing the right thing, even if you’re missing out on a print-worthy image.

Yes, villagers are poor. But don’t lie to yourself and think that you’re doing a good deed when you give them a dollar: a dollar overseas goes about as far as a dollar back home. If you really want to make a difference, donate your time to a school or a hospital or another volunteer organization. Make a monetary donation to a local sustainability program. For the love of God, don’t visit a country on a package tour! Independent travelers commit up to 75-percent of their spending to locals when visiting South East Asia. Package tourists commit less than 25-percent.  Keep your dollar bills in your pocket.

The only time you should pay for an image is if you plan on using that image commercially. If you’re going to use it for stock, for editorial purposes or otherwise exploit it for monetary gain, then you should think twice about paying; you don’t have to, but you should think about it. If you’re going to ask someone to sign a model release for the image then you should think doubly hard. Often, offering to send someone a print or a digital copy of the photo you’ve made of them (you’d be surprised how many village folk have email!) is more than enough. But it’s one more thing to keep in mind. However, if you’re going to use your images to impress your friend and tell them about the time you gave a poor farmer $1.50 in pocket change and saved his whole village, think about how you’re going to use your camera.

 

CASE TWO: Reckless Visitation

Monks meditating in the mist in Luang Prabang. Burmese pilgrims trekking the road to the golden rock. Nepali holy men collecting alms in the shadows of the Himalayas. All of these scenes are stunning and worth capturing. And there’s nothing wrong with capturing them – the secret is to do it with respect and with tact. All too often, sadly, this doesn’t happen.

Mandalay, Burma. Megan and I hired a driver to help us explore the area in what was a limited window of time. Hiring a driver or a fixer is often a great way to gain access to sites you’d otherwise miss, or see things you didn’t know were there – unless your driver is contributing to a social problem without letting you in on it.

Our driver had been telling us all morning of this fantastic monetary where monks did… something. He just wouldn’t tell us what. We figured it would be worth checking out; neither of us had any idea what to expect and we’re both fans of surprises. When we arrived at the monastery, we realized that we had heard about this place – a site where more than 1,000 monks gather to eat lunch on a daily basis. I wasn’t very happy, you see. We had tried to avoid this place on purpose; why would I want to see, let alone take photos, of monks eating lunch? I can think of nothing more foolish, yet there were dozens of tourists shoving their cameras into monk’s faces as they waited in line to receive their lunch. This is a big deal in a country where you rarely run into tourists. For people to be gathered here, en masse, really upset me. Some people even went as far to enter the cafeteria to shoot images while the monks ate. Megan tried to calm me down, but after one particularly stupid photographer bumped a monk and spilled his food while trying to take a picture of another, I spoke up. Or I snapped. One way or the other, I spit a little venom.

I asked the photographer how she would like it if I took a picture of her while she shoved a hamburger into her face. She frowned, cocked her head and replied, defiantly, “that they’re monks!” I told her that she was a fucking idiot, but that didn’t make me want to take her picture. Things deteriorated from there, but you get my point.

I regret not taking more photos of tourists behaving badly. Whenever I see people doing stupid things under the guise of photography, the last thing I want to do is take a photo. The first thing? You’ve probably already guessed.

 

You see, I felt terrible for the young crimson-clad guys; they have no control over who comes to spy on them while they eat, and they certainly aren’t going to speak out against anyone taking their photo. They, unlike the vast majority of people we met that day, have tact, grace and class. Tour operators deliver people to the monastery thinking this is the sort of thing tourists want to see. Some tourists, bless them, offer donations to the monastery after acting like buffoons, but that doesn’t offset the irresponsibility of their actions. I felt a little strange scolding a 40-something American woman at a monastery in Myanmar in front of her friends, but someone had to say something. I asked the group if they would walk into the Vatican and shoot images of cardinals sat down to dinner. No one answered, so I told them that I didn’t think they would. And if they did, the Pope would probably punch them in the nose.

To me, taking a picture of a monk eating his lunch carries no inherent cultural value. If you want to see it for yourself, go crazy. I’m not going to tell you where this happened, because I think there are better ways to spend your time. There’s nothing wrong with watching, I guess, though you could just as easily go to a McDonald’s in Illinois and watch people devour Big Macs if you were interested in associating food with culture. That’d be a hell of a lot more apt, too. Seriously.

This looks like fun? Seriously? Really? You’re full of shit. It’s not fun.

 

We’ve done a pretty good job of screwing up our planet to this point. I’d prefer not to see people compound problems by acting like jerks on a micro level. The way we interact with local people when we travel goes a long way towards influencing attitudes about where we are from: we should always and forever travel to a place with the goal of leaving a good impression in mind. Besides, I’ve kept a running tally over the last few years, and Americans are NOT the worst offenders. You’d be surprised…

I’m not a good travel photographer because I barge into towns on the other side of the world and treat people like shit. I’m a good photographer because I know how to interact with people. I know how to cultivate a good rapport with the folks I meet. Most of all, I’m genuine. I’m after experiences first, photographs second. It’ll be a cold day in hell the day you see an image from me where I’ve willingly exploited someone.

I toyed with the idea of providing more examples of photographers behaving badly, but I’m going to save them and post periodically on the subject as a reminder to all of us – myself included – exactly how we should and shouldn’t behave as travel photographers.

- Flash

www.flashparker.com

The Seoul Metro Project

Today is the day The Seoul Metro Project sees the light of day!

The Seoul Metro Project is a collaboration between members of the Seoul Photo Club to document in pictures the more than 400 stops that make up the Seoul metro transit system in Seoul, South Korea. Two years in the making, The Metro Project is about the essence of travel in a foreign land – and taking your camera with you.

It has been a long road getting this project wrapped up and to the printer; I’ve seen people come and go, offer to work on one section and then vanish into thin air without a word. I’ve seen people come on board and handle one section then another, producing some incredible images in the process. I’ve got to know people, made new friends and had a few laughs while putting this all together.

Now we can share it with you.

This link will take you to MagCloud, where you can order a hardcopy or digital version of the Seoul Metro Project. I hope that you enjoy the book. I hope you’ll share it with friends. Most of all, I hope that it will inspire you to launch your next project and see it through to completion.

Click here for your copy of The Seoul Metro Project.

 

Travel Tips: The Slow Boat on the Mekong (Laos Edition)

I have received quite a bit of feedback from folks on my recent South East Asian travel posts – a sign to me that other people find much of the information on the web and in guidebooks as misleading and out of date as I do. I’m going to do my best to stay current on this from here on out, but if you’ve got any questions or want me to skip ahead, please ask.

2011 Asian Itinerary:

Thailand – Laos – Vietnam – Singapore – Hong Kong

Macau – Philippines – Myanmar – Sri Lanka – India –Nepal

There are times when it feels like I spend half my day at the computer researching travel routes, accommodations, VISA fees, entry regulations, flight schedules and more. I’m sure many of you know exactly how I feel and have spent your fair share of time and energy scrounging travel forums for up-to-date information on your preferred destination.

More frustrating is when you come across a bit of information that seems helpful on the surface but turns out to be half a decade out of date; I don’t care if 1,000 Myanmar black market Kyat was worth $1 US dollar in 2003, I want to know what it’s worth today!

To that end I’m blogging about a few of my travel experiences from the road in a general capacity. I’ll write about crossing land borders, the best time to book flight tickets, how and where to get a VISA for a particular destination and so on and so forth. This is and shall be subjective, of course, but I’ll try and stick to the cold hard facts where applicable. And maybe every now and then I’ll interject with a photo tip or two and an amusing anecdote or another. Read on if you’re interested in the subject matter at hand; skip to another post if you’re here looking for photography insights, tips, tricks and more.

———-

For Part 1, Click Here.

Part 2: Taking the slow boat down the Mekong River (Laos Edition)

Phase One: Accommodations and Slow Boat Tickets

The range of accommodations in Huay Xia are limited. There are plenty of guest houses along the main road from the boat landing and then plenty more near the slow boat pier offering the same general level of service. Just keep in mind that this isn’t a five-star operation; from here until you touch solid earth in Luang Prabang you’re going to be doing things Laos style on Laos time. We settled on a hotel at the top of the hill from the boat landing; it had large rooms, AC, hot showers and, most importantly, WiFi. One more technological infusion before our arduous boat trip! (Actually, we used it to book hotels in Luang Prabang and beyond. We book through agoda.com whenever we can; great deals and points that can be used for free hotel rooms. I hate spending time wandering around a town looking for a deal on a hotel room; I’d rather book something online and arrive worry-free).

We arranged our slow boat tickets through our hotel as well. There seems to be a lot of contention out there about the cost of the trip from start to finish, but I found this process to be a simple one. The price as marked on the ticket is 110,000 Laos kip from Huay Xia to Pak Ben – the halfway point. If you buy your tickets at the slow boat pier you’ll have to buy two, of course, to get you all the way to Luang Prebang, bringing the total to 220,000. Our hotel charged us 235,000 kip each. That extra 15,000 represents about $2 USD, not something to get bent out of shape about. Generally we find it easier to package things together where and when we can – we’d rather spend more time exploring than searching for deals.

Phase Two: Huay Xia to Pak Beng – on the river

Seats on the slow boat are assigned; don’t worry about showing up half an hour early as the boat isn’t going anywhere until it is loaded with people and whatever supplies the good people at the pier need to transport down the river. Don’t be afraid of asking someone sitting in your seat to move, either; people often park their asses wherever they want, causing problems later on.

You can buy beer, cold drinks and noodles on board. Stock up on food only if you really need to; you’re going to be sitting all day without any exercise. You may not need half a dozen ham and cheese sandwiches to tide you over.

Kids jump on and off the boat at various points along the river. They really, really want to sell you warm beer. They also want to sell you warm fish cakes.

Arriving in Pak Beng after a long day on the river means dealing with hoards of touts bent on selling you their hotel experience. Be vigilant here; some of the guesthouses are much rougher than others. They’re all cheap, though, save for one upscale option on the top of the hill to the left of the boat landing. Look to pay between 200-300 baht for a room with AC. The rooms get cheaper the further up the hill you go (baht and kip are accepted all along the river).

The food in Pak Beng is excellent – especially when you get it from locals on the street. If you eat banana pancakes in Laos at some foreign-owned guesthouse you should be ashamed of yourself!

There’s a quaint village here, a few bars worth kicking back and sharing a beer at and numerous vendors selling delicious grilled pork and lemongrass sausages. Just mind the early curfew and you’ll have a great time. And don’t be a complete idiot and buy drugs from any of the people selling contraband in town; if you do, you risk spending the rest of our life in a Laos jail and/or delaying the boat for all the passengers with common sense.

The second day on the river passes like the first; seemingly endless hours of rugged countryside roll by as you try to spot elephants taking a dip in the river. Buy some fish cakes from local kids like our Austrian friend did and marvel at the many villages you stop at along the way. The speed boat would have got you to LP faster, but the slow boat is one of those once-in-a-lifetime trips you’ll be glad you took (though it’s unlikely you’ll ever want to take it again!).

 Phase Three: Arrive in Luang Prabang

You’ll know you’re getting close to Luang Prabang when the river widens and you see the oft-visited caves on your right side (can’t miss them; every passenger on the boat will point them out for you).

There’s a new Lao-owned vegetarian restaurant open near the Hotel Villa Deux Rivieres in Luang Prabang; all their proteins are made from tofu and assembled to look like chicken, beef, eggs or pork (pictured).

I strongly suggest you have your accommodations booked prior to your arrival. If you don’t, it’s likely that you’re going to be swarmed by canvassers the moment you step off the boat. You don’t need the hassle; if you haven’t booked a hotel, ignore everyone and walk up the hill, turn left and drop your bags at the first riverside restaurant you see. Enjoy a Lao Beer or two over the Mekong and wait for the crowds to disperse. When it’s all clear, then you can head out and look for a place to sleep.

I recommend the Hotel Villa Deux Rivieres; a gorgeous new hotel with a ton of ambiance. We were working on a luxury travel story in LP but we’d come back here for a stay in a heartbeat.

Things to Consider:

1. The waterfalls close to Luang Prabang, while oft-visited by tourists, are a great place to relax and spend a bit of time swimming. Pink eye can be a problem during the rainy season, though. Keep that in mind.

2. Always ask a monk before you take his picture (if you’re close enough that he notices you). I see a lot of rude tourists shove their cameras into a monk’s face and click away. Don’t. You wouldn’t like it – neither do the monks, who have to put up with constant attention from tourists in Luang Prabang. Be respectful. Be doubly respectful during the Alms Giving in the morning.

3. Luang Prabang is the most comfortable town in Laos; it’s unlike the rest of the country (save for parts of the capital). Don’t expect free wifi, hot showers or working electricity if you venture into the country after your stay here.

4. Visit the real LP; the part of town where locals actually live. Stop in at a rural village. While the UNESCO Old City of LP is a wonderful place to visit, it’s not all there is to Luang Prabang.

5. Visit Tamarind Restaurant. The Laos food here is exceptional; a lot of care and effort goes into these dishes. The quality of food increases the further you venture toward the conflux of the two rivers (and the further you get from the main backpacking zone!). Also try Three Nagas if you’re looking for upmarket Laos fair.

6. Don’t be afraid of Laos food; it is sensational. Try as much street food as you can. As long as it has been cooked (don’t eat raw veggies!) you should be fine.

7. Enjoy yourself. Luang Prabang is one of Asia’s most alluring town’s for good reason. It’s easy to lose yourself here for a long time.

8. Don’t bother renting a motorbike here; $25 a day is mental in South East Asia. It’s cheaper (and easier!) to rent a jumbo (large tuk-tuk) with a driver. Split the cost with friends, pay your driver for the day and stop wherever you like.

9. Skip Vang Vieng, on the way out, unless you’re looking for Spring Break: Asian Edition.

Don’t act like an asshole with a camera; be respectful when shooting monks. Treat these young (and old) men with the respect they deserve. If you walked up to a priest in the USA, blocked his path and shot 15 pictures of him he’d probably punch you in the nose. You would deserve it.

Up Next: Laos Guide 3/3: Getting from Luang Prabang to Nong Khiaw

Plan versus Action

If you choose a career in a creative field you must have thick skin. You will need to prepare yourself for a series of seemingly never-ending Mexican Standoffs; many people believe they can do exactly what you can do, if only given the opportunity. They’re going to tell you so. Over and over again.

Trust me. I’ve been doing this for a while now.

When I landed my first paid screenwriting assignment I was thrilled. When people asked me what I did for a living I was able to say that I was the real deal – a honest-to-goodness professional writer! It felt good. It felt great. What didn’t feel so good was the response, in one form or another, that came down the pike.

Someone: What do you do for a living?

Flash: I’m a screenwriter.

Someone: Oh, you write movies?

Flash: Exactly!

Someone: That’s great! I’ve always wanted to write a movie… I just haven’t had the time. Someday, though.

Flash: Oh, that’s great!" Good luck.

Someone: I have some really great ideas – we should sit down and discuss them.

Flash: …!

I’ve had this conversation, in some iteration or another, 1,000 times. I used to take it personally. Quite personally. It hurt my feelings. It felt like people were taking a shot at me – the only reason I had become a professional was due to an abundance of available time. The quality of my work didn’t matter. My skills, experience, knowledge – secondary to time. Everyone has an idea – 101 ideas, each one better than anything I could ever come up with on my own.

I reacted. I became fairly prolific. I wrote nine scripts between 2005-2006 (not that all of them were good… or intelligible). The conversations didn’t change. It didn’t really matter how much work I did. There was this time in Los Angeles when I was meeting with my agent and a producer over lunch. Our waiter, stone faced, told us that he was also a professional screenwriter – he just hadn’t caught a decent break. He hadn’t met the right people. He hadn’t been as lucky as me.

 

Making a Change.

I decided to write a book. Surely things would change if I wrote a book. A book is many times longer than a script. A book is many times more difficult to write. Respect would be mine!

I kept my project a secret until the book was finished. I kept it a secret until the book was published. I sold a few books. I did a little tour. I did some public readings. I met some people.

Some people: You wrote a book!

Flash: I did!

Some people: Great. That’s great. I’ve been working on a book for a while now myself. Who is your agent?

Flash: … fuck.

Movies. Books. Same-same, but different.

 

The Life of a Travel Photographer.

Things haven’t changed. Things will never change. Now that I’m a professional photographer I don’t have this type of conversation every once in a while – I have it every day. Everyone with a camera is a would-be-professional photographer. Everyone. Make no mistake about it. Not that there is anything wrong with that; quite the opposite, in fact. It means there are plenty of people running around out there with whom I can talk shop. That’s a good thing. Of course, there are many people I meet who don’t see the difference in what I do and what they could be doing – especially when traveling. The only difference now is my own attitude.

People ask me how I got my first photos and travel stories published. I tell them the story – they’re underwhelmed. It all seems so easy! Anyone can do it! Travel a little. Take a picture. Call a magazine. Get published. Easy as pie. What’s the big deal? Where’s all the hard work? Why aren’t we all doing it?

I don’t take things so personally anymore. I don’t get bent out of shape – not as often as I used to, at any rate. I’m more confident in my skills and abilities than I used to be. That helps. The great thing about being a photographer is that I can show people my work at any time – on a laptop, on an iPod, on an iPad – and gauge reactions instantly. It’s not like being a screenwriter or an author; I can’t pull out a copy of my novel on a crowded subway and hold a public reading to showcase my skills. [Or could I? That would be interesting.] Photography is a different beast.

Someone: What do you do?

Flash: I’m a travel writer and photographer. How about you?

Someone: I’m an architect at Vandalay Industries. Photographer, yah? I love taking photographs, too. I took this one shot at the Eiffel Tower…

{Flash calmly removes iPod from his bag, brings up image of Angkor Wat at sunset, hands iPod to Someone.}

Someone: Oh. I don’t think I have anything like that.

Flash: Redemption is mine!

 

There’s No Such Thing as Redemption.

That last exchange is a bit of a joke, of course. While it happens that way from time to time, other reactions are quite possible – quite probable. People look at an image and they say I must be good at Photoshop. I must have a good camera. I must use a lot of filters. I must get up early in the morning. All of the above is true, but the bottom line is that I know what I’m doing. I’ve blogged on the topic of camera versus creativity before. A million people have. I’m not going down that road here. The important thing here, as I’ve already mentioned, is that I’m confident in my abilities. I let most of that other stuff roll of my back these days. But why?

Because people love to talk – they will rarely act.

This is the key.

This is the big secret. This is what people don’t want you to know. Many people talk a big game. Few get out on the field and run the ball past the goal line. Take stock of all the times you’ve felt belittled or had your feelings hurt in your professional career. You have a running inventory in your mind – I know you do. I t doesn’t matter what industry you work in. Writer. Photographer. Plumber. Accountant. You remember the name and face of everyone who ever told you they can do what you can do. I know I do. I use that as motivation. Fuel. Fire.

It’s likely that the big talker you met a few years ago is nothing more than that – a big talker. Talking as much today as he was yesterday. It’s unlikely he’s doing what you do or doing it better than you. But what if he is? What if he used you as inspiration to become a professional writer or photographer or dentist or circus clown? Now he’s your competition. Now there are two clowns shopping for the last pair of floppy shoes.

What do you do?

You work harder. You get better. Success doesn’t come easy; it doesn’t stay easy, either. You must to continue to improve and perfect if you intend to remain a working professional. I know that most of the talkers are likely still talking and not acting, but I’m not willing to take the chance. One or two of the talkers might have started working hard. That’s part of the reason I strive to improve, innovate and creative every time I set to work. I act. And I strive to act first.

You’re only an artist when you’re creating. Otherwise you’re a public speaker. It’s fine to get together with friends and discuss the things you want to do or plan to do – it’s much better to get out and do it. I don’t put much stock in idle talk; you shouldn’t either. If you are already a creator then you need to toughen up. Work on that thick skin of yours. People around you are going to talk. They’re going to talk at you as often as they’re going to talk to you.

People join clubs and groups all the time because it’s a great way to meet like-minded people. Photography clubs specifically are a great way to foster creativity – as long as you don’t go putting the cart before the horse. It’s easy to throw out a dozen ideas. It’s difficult to see one project through to completion before starting another.

Here’s the bottom line: I’ll never tell you what I plan on doing. I will only show you what I’ve already done.

Back to the road.

- Flash

Vientiane, Laos

Laos, PDR.

Backpackers and businessmen say that it stands for Please Don’t Rush, but no one seems to get the newsletter here in Vientiane. Sure, for a capital it’s not altogether that big, but it’s not a sleepy little berg, either.

Most people use Vientiane as the gateway to another destination – Luang Prabang, Bangkok or beyond – yet there are a few reasons to stop in and stay a while. The waterfront is a quaint place to watch the sun go down over the Mekong. There is no better place in the country to explore the food scene. There’s a Wat on every corner. The vertical runway is worth a look – you’ll see what I mean when you get here – and, of course, the people are friendly.

Laid back? Relaxed? No, not really. But certainly a city worth exploring.

*One of the main reasons we came to Vientiane was to shoot the Beer Laos factory as part of an assignment I’m working on. Sadly, the plant is undergoing renovations and is currently closed to the public – from what the marketing people told me, it could stay this way for up to two years! Best to call ahead before making the trip out to the factory as tuk-tuk touts charge a silly amount for the trip (haggle hard!).

 

What’s Going On In Your Own Backyard?

[ABOVE] I saw this statue every day of my life growing up. It took me a long time to realize I had never taken an image of it – longer to realize it was worth shooting.

Photographers are, in many ways, creatures of habit, but becoming habituated to a place – becoming too familiar with it, relegating it to the mundane or the everyday – is bad for creativity. It is bad for business.

When I lived in Korea I was part of a fantastic expat photo community known as the Seoul Photo Club. The SPC is made up of foreign folk from every corner of the globe – Canada, America, South Africa, New Zealand and all points in between – though we do have a few things in common. For one, we’re photography enthusiasts. For another, we’re living, breathing, working and shooting in a foreign place. It is easy to shoot in a foreign place – for a while. Once that foreignness fades away and the foreign becomes familiar, once the foreign place becomes home, we can take it for granted and forget how to shoot it. Case in point; my Seoul travel portfolio is lacking because I didn’t see the need to shoot Seoul the way I would if I were traveling through for a week or two. I thought there would be plenty of time to capture the pagodas, the palaces and the other places. Yet time has a way of slipping past us.

Many of the expats I knew in Korea returned to their native lands with every intention of shooting as frequently as they had while living and traveling abroad, yet their prolific shooting began to wane almost immediately. There are plenty of reasons for this, sure – longer working hours, new jobs, new responsibilities, a lack of a photo community to spur you forward and so on an so forth, though in general it seems like people don’t shoot too much in their own backyard. They become blind to the day to day of everyday life. Funny, since knowing a place well, being a regular, homegrown talent, should give you a leg up on all the competition that might ever come knocking. You don’t hear people from New York City, Chicago, London or Tokyo complain about a lack of photographic inspiration, though you don’t need to live in a big city to produce good work. A good photographer can create from the boredom of suburbia just as well as he or she can in the cultural inspiration of a great city.

[ABOVE] I didn’t shoot Korea from the inside out until I got outside of Seoul. I had been treating Korea as my home – not a place to shoot, but as a place to live. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again. I’d explore even my own backyard with fresh eyes.

One of the benefits of spending my days on the road as a travel photographer is that I don’t have to look at the same backyard for too long or too often. That being said, I do spend a few months of the year working from home, and I need to stay sharp. I visit and revisit places I know well. I shoot things one way and then another – in different light at different times of the day. I promised myself that after I left Korea I would never again forget to shoot at home.

When the weather takes a turn I transform the house into a flash laboratory; even if you’re not interested in flash or macro or product photography, you can find something to shoot in and around the house, if only to stay sharp and creative.

My point is simple; there’s always something you can shoot. An excuse is an excuse is an excuse – they are easy to come by and easy to use. If you call yourself a photographer, you need to create images. You need to do it often.

The best part about being a photographer? You can do it from anywhere.

[ABOVE] This isn’t my backyard, but it’s not far – about 10km down the road from where I grew up. Locals know about this place and few other folks come to visit. The kind of insider knowledge that helps a travel photographer shoot a place inside and out.

You know where you’re from. You know it well – you know it better than any random traveler just passing through. If you’re interested in becoming a travel photographer or bettering your travel photography skills, work on building your portfolio of home from the inside out. It is in your own backyard that you can work on honing your craft. You can get comfortable shooting strangers – no language barriers at home! – and you can work at gaining access to places few photographers get access to (another hallmark of a solid travel photographer).

Some people think they need to travel far and wide to be a good travel photographer. The truth is, you don’t. You don’t need to go more than a few feet from your own front door. You can tell a story from anywhere – telling it in a place where you’re comfortable will help you get the facts and the fruits. Don’t wait until you’ve gone somewhere to start taking photos – if you spend all your time wishing you were someplace else, you’ll miss everything going on around you.

- flash

The Mighty Mekong

A trip down the Mekong River in Laos from Huay Xai to Luang Prabang. This is a once-in-a-lifetime trip that you know you never, ever want to do again.

My photographer pal Nate has given me a lot of flack over taking the slow boat versus the speed boat – “a whole lifetime of danger crammed into six hours,” he called it, but the people we met and the things we saw on our long, long boat ride made it merry.

 

Images.

1. Day 1 – Loading the boat. Hoping it doesn’t leak.

2. We picked up a few dozen Laos passengers en route.

3. Speedy boats, slow canoes.

4. Young villagers selling Beer Lao and snacks.

5. Mekong River vista.

6. River boats.

7. The captain of our ship takes a break.

8. Picking up passengers at a small village, leaving others behind.

9. Entering the south.

10. Pak Beng village – our halfway point.

11. Tending to a garden in Pak Beng.

12. ABC Extra Stout – one of the worst beers in the history of the universe.

13. Chinese workers relax in Pak Beng.

14. Lao barbecue – street style. Love the lemongrass sausage!

15. Our riverboat takes the night off.

16. Laap – now with extra lemongrass!

17. Another luxury passenger liner.

18. One passenger, 500 sacks of rice.

19. A woman in a skirt and a sack of melons.

20. This boy couldn’t have been more than 4… and yes, he is smoking.

21. Closing in on Luang Prabang.