Flight from Reality
The Life of a Street Photographer
The love of travel eluded me as a child when I was pulled from friends and familiarity, jetted across the Atlantic Ocean and hustled from museum to church, round and round, all summer, every summer. It was not until adulthood, when travel was on my terms, that I fell prey to curiosity about the giant world around me. Twice a year, from the moment we met, my husband and I would pick a destination, book hotels and flights, pack our bags and head off to new lands. Once we started our family, the kids became our travel companions where museums and churches were interrupted by shouts for ice cream, swings and slides and even the amusement park neatly tucked away in some European city centers. Though now, with a nest that is bear of dependents, we travel solo. We leave behind all the worries of everyday life and become immersed in whatever culture we find ourselves in. There is one thing, however, I never leave behind. It is an object and a mindset that follows me wherever I go, domestic or international, day or night. The object is my camera. The mindset is that of a street photographer. There seems to be no off switch.
With one camera gently placed crossbody, ready and accessible, and the other neatly tucked away in my camera bag, along with extra lenses, batteries, portable hard drive, wires and cords and of course my laptop, I grab my suitcase and my husband and set off for our two week flight from reality. Already at the airport my eye gets tugged and pulled in every direction as the hustle and bustle of the traveling hub stimulates my minds never-ending search for visual storytelling. Once boarded I pull out my laptop, insert my camera’s memory card and feed it my day’s content, but not before snapping a few more shots of my fellow passengers and crew. I begin to peruse what I captured as I decide in which images I will invest and which will be deleted from Lightroom (possibly reconsidered at some point in the far future). The activity of editing, which brings me the same pleasure I imagine those who find themselves entranced by video games experience, carries me through much of the long journey until sleep overtakes me.
For reasons I do not quite understand, I was extended an invitation to enter the cockpit. I spent approximately ten minutes befriending the pilot and copilot as they readied themselves for the short trek from London to Athens.
Our journey this time began in Athens, Greece. The city was not what I had expected, run down, poor. Instead, it was a pedestrian-friendly vibrant place with a bustling day life and an equally buzzing nightlife. From there we boarded our four-mast sailboat and set off across the Aegean Sea. We would anchor for the day at beautiful Greek islands and two Turkish ports. The island-hopping trip was a never-ending photographer’s delight, but alas, our trip inevitably came to an end. The airport again became another opportunity to capture the tail end of our journey. Once boarded I pulled out my laptop, inserted my camera’s memory card and fed it the images from the last two weeks, but not before snapping a few more shots of my fellow passengers.
The first four images (above) were captured at the Dalyan Mud Baths, where bathers stand inches from shade’s edge as they soak up the rays of the warm sun, mud hardening on their soft skin. Once the mud had fully dried the only remaining option was to shower in the cold waters, leaving one’s skin purified from the daily toxins that inflitrate our pores.
The intention was to anchor off the shore of Rhodes, but sadly the waters were angry. Our sailboat was pushed into a 10 to 15-degree tilt for over 30 hours, forcing us away from our destination. When finally the Aegean relinquished its wrath, we were able to anchor off the coast of the island of Poros.
Our next journey, planned and booked, is just around the corner. I look forward to sharing our next flight from reality.
Until then, thank you for reading, and remember…Photography is a language we all understand. No translation needed.