I decided to offer the client two versions: one in a standard panoramic photo image ratio of 3:1, and another in the motion picture format of 2.40:1. On the one hand I’ve never quite gotten comfortable with 3:1—there just doesn’t seem to be enough vertical height. For a large print on the wall and where you can back up, that isn’t so important, but for on a computer monitor, I always feel I have to scroll horizontally moving the edges of the images off screen (ruining the ability to take in the entire image at one time) if I make the vertical dimension larger. That said, there are some scenes that are 3:1 by their very nature, and one could miss the full impact of the scene by not shooting in that format. With out further ado, here is above said image:

3:1 format. This image is growing on me in this ratio.

On the other hand, I’ve always loved the 2.40:1 ratio. It is the standard for widescreen cinema (for more than you could ever want to know about that ratio, read the 2.35, 2.39 or 2.40? section of the Anamorphic format Wikipedia page). It has always seemed to mimic my field of vision—the way I want to see. The 3:1 seems to make me feel like I have to look left and right in the image, whereas I can take in the more of the 2.40:1 image at one time (Yes, absolute size influences this also).

2.40:1 format. This is my favorite panoramic ratio. Probably from my love of cinema.

Interestingly enough… I think this particular image in 3:1 is starting to grow on me. There are a couple of reasons:

1. I’m not sure that the extra sky in the 2.40:1 version does anything more for the image. Most of the interesting sky is nearer the horizon.
2. The narrower vertical dimension of the 3:1 version gives more prominence to the incinerator, which contrasts it that much more with the empty countryside.

That said, and above and beyond what I discussed earlier, reasons I think the 2.40:1 version might be better:

1. The area of land right in front of the incinerator. You have the dead grass in the bottom of the frame, then an open spot of dark soil, then another band of dead grass right around the base of the incinerator. I like that “layering” or “stacking” of items in the photograph from front to back. In the 3:1 version, the tufts of grass emerge from the bottom of the frame and I don’t get the same sense of foreground.
2. The greater amount of sky and foreground give the incinerator a little more breathing room. That tends to make the incinerator a little less prominent, and give it a slightly more forlorn feeling—it is smaller in relation to the wide open space around it.

I think I’m going to have to make large prints of both, hang them on the wall, and then take some time living with them. After a period of time with them my preference will come out from clunking around in the back of my head and I’ll know.

I’d love to hear what other people think about the qualities of each format, especially in regard to the incinerator images above. Leave some comments below or on this post on the Jon Witsell Photographic Arts Facebook page. And if you like it, hit the Recommend or Send buttons below.

Thanks for looking.

Thinking About Panorama Formats.

The post Thinking About Panorama Formats appeared first on The Decentered Element.

Photo in a Tuk-Tuk. I feel like singing the Beastie Boys “High Plains Drifter” when I see this picture…

In The Bus

First let me give you an glimpse of what a bus trip in Laos entails from inside of the bus. It’d be easier to show you a photo, but my carry camera had met an untimely demise right before I left on a six segment jaunt that included trips between Xamti, Xam Neua, Nam Xoi (border with Vietnam), and Phonsavan (the images showing me in full regalia are in the back of a Tuk-Tuk; this post applies to that type of travel also). So, imagine this: A bus that is years past its prime. Like twenty. It probably had a suspension system at one time. It rattles, vibrates, and smokes… and that’s just when it is idling at a stop. The windows are all down, as it is going to get hot. The vents on the roof that would allow most of the heat out of the top of the bus are closed, all the cargo on the roof—boxes, bags, livestock in bamboo cages—precludes opening them. There is cargo down the center aisle, usually nails or huge bags of rice. You just walk on them to get to your seat. Then there are a stack of plastic stools. Those are for the people that will be sitting all the way down the center aisle… there isn’t a space left empty. There seems to be an inordinately large number of audio speakers haphazardly screwed to whatever surface was available.

One of the issues I run into on buses in Asia (and all airplanes), is that I’m all legs. I hit my knees on the seat in front of me in just about every type of vehicle. However, I discovered that the back row in the buses typically has a center seat that faces right down the isle. I grab that seat so I can stretch out my legs as needed—if you have long legs or cramp easily, get to the bus station early to claim it. The downside of the back row of the bus is that you get all the smells, dust, feathers, etc., that blow through. Also, for people that get car sick, the back of the bus is probably the worst place to be. More on that later.

In The Bus, On The Road

Once you start down the road, the fun starts. For much of the trip, you will be on serpentine roads that hairpin turn up and down the sides of mountains. Depending on the time and location, you may have to stop and negotiate with large construction vehicles coming in the other direction; the road is barely wide enough in most place for both vehicles. Going through villages is always touch and go as there are often children, cows, chickens, and the occasional pig playing in/standing in/crossing the road. These buses would have a tough time stopping quickly while empty and there is no chance of a rapid stop in their typical configuration, which is massively overloaded. So, get use to a swerving, jerky, rough ride, with occasional attempts at missing animate objects in the road. Otherwise the drivers are going all out. Which, on a straight road, wouldn’t be much of a big deal. On narrow twisting roads with lots of easily impacted objects entering and exiting the roadway and the mountainside falling away from you at some astounding depths, it can be, well, it can be a tad unnerving. I guess that sitting in the back of the bus has another benefit: you don’t really see much of what is coming on the road ahead…

With the nausea-inducing motion of the bus comes one of the least pleasant parts of the trip: vomit. Yeah. Adults, children, you name it. The roads just lend themselves to creating motion sickness in humans. Someone always barfs. Then someone else who was just holding it together gets a whiff and lets loose. Did I mention that the back end of the bus has its disadvantages? Scent travels on the wind.

Just about when you grasp what the next six/eight/ten hours are going to be like, the driver decides that some music is just the thing needed. So, in goes the Thai/Lao pop music CD and the volume knob is spun to 11. I like hearing new music; I hate listening to others’ music when I’m a captive audience. Of course within the din is the sound of loose ground wires creating static, the sound of speakers pushed too far too many times, and the worrying thought that this racket is the only thing keeping the driver awake/focused.

As you hurtle through the curves (or creep if you are headed uphill) you hit parts of the road that are partially paved. That’s when you first notice the dust. Lao soil is red. The dust is also red and is some of the finest granulated material I’ve seen on the planet. And you are getting coated with it. And at first, you don’t really notice. Its so fine, that it just seems like some cloudiness in the air. And it is hot. So the windows are all open, but you are still sweating, and that creates a fine gritty feeling on your face and in your hair. And in your nose. And ears. And mouth.

Six Essentials When Traveling By Bus In Laos

Ok. For those of you that can’t wait, here are the things you should not be without, in order of importance:

1. Motion Sickness Medication
2. Menthol Inhaler
3. iPod And/Or Ear Plugs
4. Dust Mask
5. Hat with Large Flexible Brim
6. Sunglasses

(Sorry for the crap images, I was shooting in a hotel with a misbehaving point and shoot.)

1. Motion Sickness Medication:

The first and most essential item to have is motion sickness medication. Being nauseated on a long distance trip is the absolute worst. A bus swaying, swerving, and constantly doing switchbacks is really rough on the old gut. I don’t usually get car sick; I am forever grateful to Jo-Ann S., a Canadian I met in Phonsavan who suggested that I take one of her packs of Gravol (Dramamine* in the States) with me “just in case.” It may be better to bring it into Laos with you, but you can always pick up a pack in one of the many pharmacies in the bigger cities. I’d bring it in.

Don’t forget to pack this medication. Why am I repeating this? Is it just that I have an above-normal aversion to nausea? Yes, that is true. However… Even if you have never been car sick before, riding a bus in Laos will test you. What is the worst that can happen? If you don’t get sick, give it to someone who is starting to turn green. Hell, buy enough for the whole bus and you may avoid the wonderful scent of vomit. If not, #2 will become very important.

Motion sickness medication. Car sickness, sea sickness. Little orange wonder drug.

2. Menthol Inhaler:

Let’s just assume you are doing fine. However, someone didn’t take their motion sickness medication and has hurled all over the floor. Possibly the person sitting right next to you. No problem. It will wash off your shoes. And pants. The you realize you don’t get carsick until you smell the scent of vomit. Here is the next essential item: The menthol inhaler.

Menthol inhaler. The best way to keep someone else’s hurl-scent from your nostrils…

Buy the kind where the bottom unscrews. Unscrew the bottom and you can access the liquid menthol. Get it on the tip of your finger and put a healthy dose around your nostrils (careful about getting it on any mucus membrane, it may sting). It may suck to smell menthol for several hours, but it is better than what you would smell otherwise… Bonus: liquid menthol will reduce the itching from mosquito bites.

Unscrew the bottom. Rub the liquid around your nostrils or on your upper lip. Mmm!

3. iPod And/Or Ear Plugs:

I no longer listen to deafening music of my choice. I really dislike listening to deafening music that is someone else’s choice. On a Laos bus, it is always the latter (unless you love Lao/Thai pop music). So, a couple of options: if you are going to be mostly awake when you are traveling, an iPod full of music and podcasts is a wonderful thing. I listened to a bunch of podcasts from a slightly-geeky lifestyle-change guy I just discovered, Dean Dwyer of Make Shift Happen and the always great Lenswork Podcast On Photography and the Creative Process.

A sure bet against the infiltration of hours of pop music into your ears.

If you plan to try to sleep through the bus ride, the other option is great: earplugs. Either buy a couple packs of the disposable version (if you are careful and keep them clean, you can reuse them, often many times) or get a quality set from a sporting goods store. The type I travel with are the Uncorded Howard Leight MAX-1 Foam Ear Plugs*. I think I may get the corded type as to reduce risk of losing one (I kept them in a small zip lock bag which also helps keep them clean). I have a great pair of Shure Live Sound Monitor Earbuds* (purchased for audio/video editing on the road) which block most of the sound, but for sleeping a pair of the disposable ear plugs are far better. I take along both options as they take virtually no space.

Plug ‘em up. Good to fend off music you wish not to hear or to aid in sleeping.

4. Dust Mask:

As I mentioned above, the dust in Lao is very fine and infiltrates just about anything. Getting it into your nose and mouth is unpleasant; breathing it for a long period of time is most likely not the best for your lungs. The dust mask I bought in a market was not too thin, was made of a tough material, was washable, and fit snugly on my face when the loops were stretched over my ears. The downside? If it is hot, you will sweat. But, I found sweating a little more preferable to sweating and having my nose, mouth, and lungs full of dust.

Good to keep the mucus membranes free of dust. And you can be incognito too!

5. Hat with Large Flexible Brim:

A good hat shades your eyes/head/ears/neck from the sun. It also keeps the dust and other flying bits out of your hair. But the real bonus of a flexible hat with a wide brim is that you can pull it down over your face if you want to kill off some of the light to sleep. Get a hat like the Patagonia Beach Bucket, it folds up small, dries rapidly, has a neck cord to keep it from flying out a window, and is reasonably cool to wear.

6. Sunglasses:

Sunglasses are always good. As most places, Lao can be quite bright. However, I really like them on the bus because they blocked out more light for when I wanted to sleep (in conjunction with the hat) and if they are tight fitting to your face, will keep some of the fine dust out of your eyes.

The full kit: Dramamine, menthol, iPod, dust mask, hat, glasses. I like it.

Traveling by bus in Laos can be a very rewarding way to see how the average Laotian travels. You stop at small markets for food/bathroom breaks, you meet other travelers, and since it is fairly slow, you get a good look at much of the countryside. It is also very inexpensive and the buses run regularly.

However, it can be quite miserable if you are not prepared. And don’t think it’s just foreigners that get motion sickness on the buses: on several of my trips, it was either Lao or Hmong people that threw up. That with the heat, dust, and the din of the music can make for a long and unpleasant ride.

Just go prepared. With a little forethought and preparation, you will find traveling by bus in Laos a good way of seeing this fascinating country.

*I’m an Amazon Affiliate. Click through to Amazon (you don’t have to buy the items above, simply use the links to get to Amazon.com) and I get a percentage of anything you buy for the next 24 hours (30 days if you add an item to your cart). Your price does not change. Help me support this site.

Bus Travel In Laos: Six Essentials.

The post Bus Travel In Laos: Six Essentials appeared first on The Decentered Element.

Fisherman on the Mekong, my last night in Laos.

Laos is amazing—I think I’m in love. This is one of those posts that could go on and on, and I was going to try to keep it brief and to only 20 28 or so images. However, if you are looking for brevity, this ain’t the post… I go could on for hours. I will write some more posts on certain aspects I want to delve into in greater detail in later posts, but let’s get on with it…

Laos is full of stunning temples, both ancient and new, and all of them are guarded by some sort of fierce creatures. I prefer the dragons:

Carved stone and a metal tongue… nice.

Pha That Luang Stupa in Vientiane.

One of the wonderful things about Laos is that you just never know what you are going to come across. It might be a herd of water buffalo on the road, a diminutive Hmong woman with the traditional black laquer on her teeth, or, a pachyderm being “driven” down the road by her handler, a mahout. Well, when I saw this elephant I got so excited that I ignored one of the rules I learned as a kid when I was regularly around large dogs and horses: don’t ever go running up to an animal you don’t know or understand. Nope, not me, throw past experience to the wind. I charged out of the Land Cruiser like an idiot without even putting my shoes on and went running right up to the elephant. The elephant looked as scared of me as a dreadnought would have been of a dinghy; the Mahout, on the other hand shouted something to (or at) me. But, in my blissful ignorance of his language, I had no idea whether he said “Don’t ever run up to an elephant like that, you jackass!” Or, if he said “Take your damn picture, would you, my elephant and I are hungry and we don’t want to be late for dinner!” And, as if to prove I hadn’t startled the elephant in the least, she turned her head and sprayed her mahout with a trunk full of water. She wasn’t bothered by me; can’t guarantee he wasn’t.

Elephant’s not pissed in the least. Mahout might be otherwise…

One of the things I was a little disappointed about was the fact that the dogs and cats here are much more wary of humans (Some Lao eat dog, and I saw some butchered in the market. I don’t think I’ll post those pictures. I asked about eating cats and one of my Lao friends looked at me like I had slapped her grandmother: “Only the Vietnamese eat cat!” she said, most indignant. Yep, I’m still a cultural fish out of water here). My falang friend said the dogs were wary because I smell different than the Lao and that I’m much taller. And, to my bafflement, my usual methods of “talking” to dogs and cats with certain vocal sounds and gestures worked exactly 0% of the time. Neither dogs nor cats would respond like their brethren in US! I couldn’t believe it, but it makes sense. They’ve never been called or commanded in my language, so why would they respond to it. Interesting.

However, not all was lost. After a long, hot, and dusty drive in the Land Cruiser, my group stopped to cool off by a river in the Xiengkhor District. I took a seat by this fine fellow who was taking in the view of the river passing by a nice little garden. I petted him, he lolled his tongue out and leaned over in that posture dogs take when they are comfortable with you.

Yep, all is good in the world.

Another wary animal I regularly came across on my many adventures exploring the Xam river were water buffalo. I really like water buffalo, not sure why. It just seems cool that I would come across them grazing or deciding that it was time for a dip in the river. Mind you, these aren’t small animals, they typically weigh anywhere between 600lbs. to 1200lbs. And they actually submerse. I have a video clip of this heard and at one point one of them goes completely underwater for about 5 or 6 seconds. And if you haven’t read it, here is an interesting post about some Hmong killing one their buffalo for food (warning to the squeamish). Alternatively, I’ll have a very funny water buffalo/falang story coming soon.

Herd in full submersible mode.

A fairly small female. Still, don’t get between her and her baby if you value unbroken bones…

Another cool thing about Laos is the omnipresent geckos. I have a saying that if you have a gecko in your room, he’s your lucky gecko. Lucky? Yeah. After you get the barrage of vaccines required for traveling in this part of the world, you realize that many of the diseases you will encounter are lovingly delivered by mosquitoes. Geckos are pretty rapacious eaters of mosquitoes, so you can see why having one or more hanging out in your room is good luck indeed. The next picture, however, isn’t of my lucky gecko… more like two geckos getting lucky.

Hmmm… maybe the geckos here read the Kama Sutra??

I’m no entomologist, but other than the mosquitoes I really did like seeing some of the fascinating bugs they have in Laos. Some of them are completely wicked looking, but I was never bitten by anything other than the damn mosquitoes. Oh, and it isn’t an insect, but I did get attached onto by a leach when I was photographing near a stream. Didn’t even feel the bugger stab/bleed me. I don’t think I’ll show that picture either, it’s kinda bloody and gross because the leach was inside my shoe. Back to the insects:

Looks like a huge queen ant. Finger for scale. Pinchers fore and aft?

Man, serious thrusters on that moth! Close up they look like feathers…

A walking stick. More like a walking branch, as it was 4″ long, with antennae, 7″!

This Praying Mantis was a trip. He moved in this really slow back and forth movement, like an insect cha cha cha. And, when I put my camera near him, his head whipped around and he looked directly at me with both eyes. He started the cha cha cha towards me, but at the rate he was going it was going to take him fifteen minutes to get 10″. So, I grabbed another bug and put it in front of Mr. Take Forever. Wow… talk about a blur! He moved so fast I barely saw him take the bug out of my hand. Snatch is a better word. And he started chowing on that bug like he was at a speed eating contest. Bug was a goner…

Praying Mantis. About 5″ long.

Of course, you can’t talk about Laos without talking about what it looks like. I’m committing a severe disservice here… the countryside is so gorgeous I could make a post longer than this one with just landscape photos. So these will have to do. Or, of course, you could dust off that passport of yours and make the trip…

Panorama of rice fields near Xiengkhor

This is just one of those picture you can’t capture with a point and shoot camera. The sun was red orange, with a ring of darker red around its circumference. During many of the nights in April, the moon would rise and be red. Now, I don’t mean red-tinged, or red-ish, but this amazing almost pearlescent burnt red. Looking at the moon during that period made me feel a sense of wonder.

Red. Burnt red. Pearlescent Burnt Red.

Down the river. I love the colors of the boat.

One of the things I will really miss is a slight variation on a staple of the country: sticky rice. Not just the standard sticky rice (or the black sticky rice that when cooked turns purple)…. no. But the sweet sticky rice that is mixed with coconut and then pressed into a piece of very thin bamboo. Convenient to carry, easily decomposable packaging, and really wonderful contents:

So simple yet so delicious. I’m going to have to try to learn how to make this at home…

Ok, ok, so one of the things I like to do when traveling is look for the hilarious mangling of the English Language (sadly, it was pretty easy to find this also in NYC.) or what are most likely mis-translations. This was on the wall of my favorite guesthouse (essentially a small hotel) in Phonsavan. So… moving the furniture is just as bad as putting nude pictures up on the wall? Or since moving furniture is listed first in item #10, is it a greater offense to move furniture than put up nude pictures? The must have been a real translation party as the left side of the sign is in Lao and the right English. However, the owner is Vietnamese… and after showing him the word for “Receipt” in Lao script in my phrasebook when I was checking out, he had to call someone on his cell to find out what it meant. I’ve stayed there on four or five occasions and now I just great him in Vietnamese and mime everything else. He smiles, I get a very nice clean room. It works.

I ALWAYS get permission from the manager before hanging nude pictures on the walls. Seriously.

This was one of my favorite finds in a Vietnamese restaurant in Xam Neua. In the USA, a grown female chicken is a hen. A male is a rooster. However, in much of the world a male chicken is a cock. When roosters are bred for fighting, they then engage in a cockfight. Of course in much of the English speaking world, cock is slang, and refers to male genitalia. There are numerous variations… just check out the twenty three pages of definitions of cock in the Urban Dictionary.

Anyway. Now you can rest assured that somewhere in the world you can not only eat regular Rooster Penis, but Sautéed Rooster Penis. Or, a regular Cock’s Cock, or Sautéed Cock’s Cock. I digress. But what a digression! And on top of that, you get a free language lesson! You can order your rooster genitalia and preferred method of cooking (from top to bottom) in Lao, English, and Vietnamese. See how traveling expands your world view!

50,000 Kip for a Sauteed Penis Cock! Man, what a deal! That’s about $6!

Now, back to what’s important… the above all best thing about Laos was the people. I’m not claiming everyone was a shining star, but that pretty much goes for every country. To meet the gems, you have to deal with the assholes. After a total of twelve weeks in country, I’d have to say the the gem to asshole ratio swings much more heavily to the gem end of the spectrum. To wit:

I regularly frequented this small store on the main street in Xamtai. The young woman that ran it was very nice, they were open pretty late for Lao standards, and her sweet grandfather was occasionally there late minding the store when the grand daughter was taking care of the rest of the family. As a matter of fact, he was the one that introduced me to Laolao, the potent rice whisky homemade all over Laos. I was dragged down into a circle of octogenarian Lao men late one night and offered a shot of the whisky from a clear gallon jug with herbs floating near the bottom of it. I’d never had it, it would have been rude not to accept it, and I’m always ready for something new. Well, almost always. Good god, it was like Tequila gone bad, then mixed with a little petrol. Probably diesel. Definitely homemade, and I briefly feared I’d lose my eyesight. But other than being more unpalatable than any other liquid that has touched my tongue, I survived. I kindly thanked them and motioned that I had to get going with the other falang (who of course were all laughing at me)… and quickly got up before I got talked into another shot.

So, in addition to the infant, the daughter has this young man for a son. I liked him immediately, because the first time I came to the store he barreled out to me and said Saibidee! While giving me a nop. I would be walking by the store and he would come running across the street and he would give me the Lao greeting. So, I started to teach him how to shake hands and say Hello! (A lot of shouting going on here between the both of us, one of those odd mistakes that seems to persist that if you raise your voice to someone that doesn’t speak your native tongue, they will understand you better). So then, he would come out to great me any time he saw me and we would do the Lao greeting, then the Western greeting. Occasionally he would shake with his left hand, but hey, things take practice.

The coolest kid in all of Xamtai.

As I have mentioned, I spent a great deal of time on the Xam river photographing the agricultural water wheels (a small folio of those coming later this year) that were prevalent there. One day I wanted to make it to the other side, but I didn’t want to hike all the way back into town to the only bridge and then hike all the way back up to where I wanted to work. So, I was standing there on the shore feeling perplexed about getting across—remember, I had 40lbs of camera gear strapped to my back. I looked over and noticed this woman and her infant looking at me. She saw the gears turning in my head about how to get across and then just pointed at me and the pointed to the bank on the other side of the river. I’m guessing I was a pretty odd sight standing there but she must have thought that was what needed to happen. I gladly jumped in (trying not to capsize the shallow boat) and we were across in about two minutes. I gladly thanked her, and I handed her some Kip, but I think that surprised her and I hope that I didn’t offend her. Then she was off, back to the other side of the river.

Gangway! Load of Falang coming through!

One on of the days when the the crew spent an inordinate amount of time bouncing around in the back of the Land Cruiser—hot, sticky, and getting coated with the ever-present fine red road dust—we stopped at a stand selling watermelon to stretch our legs and eat some of their delicious offerings. I was wandering around as usual with my point and shoot and came up to this tiny house with a large tarp covered in drying rice:

Drying rice before it is hulled.

Being my nosey self, I walked up the embankment to take a closer look and take a snapshot and the kids were all smiles. Then, the mother called the two girls into the house and I was about to move away not sure if I had just inappropriately crossed some sort of line. But, moments later as I was about to go down the embankment, the mother and kids all appeared… but the girls had their matching sweaters on for a photo! I gladly snapped away. These are the times that I wish I had a Polaroid to give them a print, but I just have this digital image, nothing tangible to give them for their posing for me. Nothing to reciprocate (other than showing them the LCD screen on the camera) for making the effort to look their best for a visitor to their country. I feel like I’m just taking and not giving anything back. That makes me feel a little sad inside.

Man! What is up with this falang and his camera?!

During my time in Xamtai, I spent a great deal of it in the hospital. So I would often see kids (and adults) sitting around waiting, bored, not unlike hospitals in most places. I’d set up my camera to photograph something and then I’d get that tingling sensation that I was being watched. Sometimes it was curious adults who would want to know what I was doing but didn’t know how (or were too intimidated) to ask. But more often than not, it was some kids. They were more curious, and often less intimidated. So, I started engaging the kids more. These cute Lao/Hmong girls found me entertaining for a very brief period. They both had sick relatives in the hospital and pretty much wandered around doing whatever kids their age would do when there isn’t anything to do.

Cute Lao/Hmong girls not knowing what to make of me.

This is a picture of the girls with my favorite nurse. She was one of those complete hard asses with a heart of gold. An endless number of times I would come to the hospital with my gear and she would look at me like I was completely nuts: More pictures?? I would reply Oh yes, many pictures! And she would shake her head and dismiss me with a sweep of her hand. Then she would smile a slight smile. Actually, every time I saw her very serious face there was laughter in her eyes. She took her job seriously and I felt… I felt that somehow she was taking care of me also.

Nurse, cute Lao/Hmong Girls.

As I mentioned above, there was no shortage of camera assistants in Laos. While I was taking an image at the front of the patient ward, these two fine gentlemen snuck up behind me to see exactly what the hell was going on there. Their mother barked at them to stop bothering me, but I motioned to her that it was OK as long as they didn’t bump anything. It was great fun for them. I have a 5″ LCD monitor on my camera that looks like a small television. When I was done shooting and contemplating what to photograph next, one boy ran inside through the field of view of the camera and the other saw that it was live—they were on television! Utter chaos ensued. One would run through the picture whilst the other one would watch laughing hysterically. Switch. Rinse, lather, repeat. I earned serious marks for being the entertainment that night.

Can we run in front of the camera again? Please???

Yep. More assistants. In this case, near a remote health center very far out in the countryside. So, as I was setting up these six decided that I was mostly harmless and that a closer look would be worthwhile.

Critiquing my technique. A tough crowd!

On a pretty hardcore trip to Xiengkhor (eight hours driving the first day, visiting three hospitals the next day, and eight hours back to Xamtai the next) we were invited to what we thought was going to be a small dinner with a friend in a local family. Surprise! It was also a going away party as one of her daughters was soon to leave for Vientiane for school. So, instead of a small dinner, the entire village was there celebrating a Baci (pronounced Buy-see). Eating, drinking lots of Beerlao and Laolao, and traditional Lao dancing to a really loud live band. To the right is our friend’s younger daughter, and to the left her friend. Both decked out. The girl on the left asked me to dance (there is no touching in Lao dancing, the men are in a circle on the inside and the women in a circle on the outside, the circle rotates and you stay next to your partner. Every so often you spin around your partner and return to your respective circle). Both the men and woman make these very seductive motions, but only with the hands. I’m sure I looked like I had some serious nerve disorder; the woman did it with amazing grace.

Super cute. And in their nicest silk sinhs.

I really do have an attachment to Laos. I don’t want to sugar coat it, it has numerous problems like every other country. It is communist run, so it is advisable if anyone approaches you and asks you political questions, you either act like you don’t understand or immediately just move away. I was also offered drugs on two occasions, both times in Vientiane, the capital. Once by a tuk-tuk driver, and I just acted like I didn’t hear him. Another was an offer of opium by a very old woman in the back of her store right on the boardwalk of the Mekong! My friend and I demonstrably motioned that we absolutely did not want that. It could have very well been a scam with the police as corruption is pretty rife. You buy it, and the cops are waiting for you. They then confiscate the drugs, then they hit you up for a bribe—to not take you to jail. Then again, I’ve been offered more drugs in one hour in a park in NYC than in three months in Laos. And don’t ask about political corruption in the USA—it’s just been legalized there. Just avoid those two things in Laos and you shouldn’t have any problems.

I don’t want to end on a negative note though. This was a life-changing experience for me and I found the people so kind and caring that at the beginning I didn’t even know how to respond. I really hate to admit this, but I was even a bit suspicious. Every time I went to explore the river by myself, I would be repeatedly asked by the national staff where I was going and if I was going alone. It irritated me at first; then someone much wiser than I set me straight: they felt seriously responsible for me. They wanted very much that nothing bad would happen to me, and would accompany me or help me if I just asked. Amazing.

Another thought: As I crossed over the Friendship Bridge into Laos the first time, I had a brief, but interesting philosophical conversation with Lynn, a Canadian woman sitting next to me. At one point, she said “We North Americans aren’t very kind.” At first I bristled slightly at the comment. What did she mean?! I’m kind, aren’t I? But now after three months, I realized I had found true compassion in Lao and am sad that I didn’t always reciprocate it. She was right: it was foreign to me. Try this mental exercise on for size: you see a Lao or Hmong trekking through your neighborhood. Do you walk out and try to great that person? Do you invite them in to your home for tea and dinner?  Would you do that?

Even though I am not religious in the least, I do find the basic philosophical tenets of Buddhism (desire creates suffering) are brilliant and meditation has helped me immensely with stress. I think that much of the kindness and compassion I found in Laos stems from this. I hope Laos can hold onto its Buddhist core while it develops. It will be an infinite loss if it doesn’t.

Leaving Laos.

The post Leaving Laos! appeared first on The Decentered Element.

Thinking About Composition: About 99% There. Click To Enlarge.

Then again, being able to adjust your composition and see your digital results immediately on a screen (I mount a LCD monitor that is considerably larger than the screen on the back of my Canon either in the hot shoe or on the tripod) is immensely useful—especially in the case when it is impossible or incredibly difficult to return and reshoot if you are not happy with the results. The downside for me with digital is that I will shoot a huge number of images each of the slightest variation, and after a period, I start to lose my sense of what is the best composition—sort of a visual overload. Anyway, let’s consider the image above (this shot was taken in a medical facility in Laos that I can currently revisit without too much trouble), with which I’m mostly satisfied.

What I do like:

• I like how the two light fixtures appear in such a way as if you drew lines through their centers lengthwise, the lines would cross at a point somewhere outside the building. They appear to point at that spot in the distance; this is know as a vanishing point. Of course, in reality, the two light fixtures are parallel.
• There is a window to the right, and it is ‘spraying’ a shadow from where the base of the ceiling fan connects to the ceiling.
• One of the tips of the three blades of the ceiling fan appears to be touching the exact spot where the spray of shadow emanates from the base of the fan.
• I like the light distribution: the blown out area from the fluorescent on the left; the relative darkness from the powered off fluorescent on the right. The wide expanse of middle tones in the upper right quadrant of the image, and, the very dark corner where the ceiling and the two walls meet toward the lower right side of the image.

What I don’t like, which is really only one thing:

• I really don’t like that the two lower fan blades are crossing over the intersection between the left wall and the ceiling. Is that an OCD nit pick? Probably. But it distracts me to see the intersection line through the blur of the lower blades.

From looking at the geometry of the objects in the images, I may not physically be able to compose this exactly the way I’d like. I think I’ll try an ever so slightly lower camera position and see if I can change the relationship between the lower blades and the intersection of the ceiling and wall. However, I suspect that if I do that, I’ll no longer be able to catch the tip of the blade ‘touching’ the base of the ceiling fan.

Is this image worth the extra work, a reshoot? I don’t know. But you know what? I think I’m gonna try.

Tech specs:

Camera: Canon 5D MkII
Lens: Canon TS-E 24mm f/3.5 L II Tilt-Shift Lens

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Thinking About Composition.

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Since this is going to be a bit of a party, I thought I’d put my Botanica Obscura folio on sale for 50% off. That’s right, for the rest of April, the print folios will be priced at $45 instead of their normal $90.

Sale!

Take a look at the Botanica Obscura folio photographs in the gallery here on jonwitsell.com, take a look at the photos in a YouTube video (turn up the sound!), and give a look at another YouTube video with yours truly describing the folios.

And, while you are at it, take a look at this Lao water buffalo I wandered by on my last trip out to the river. I’ll have a funny post about an encounter with a much larger buffalo in a future post.

Female Or Immature Male, Still Probably A Good 600lbs

Botanica obscura folio.

The post Botanica Obscura Folio Sale—Happy New Years! appeared first on The Decentered Element.

Ixus 125 HS, the non-North American version of the Elph 110 HS

So, I was surprised at how seriously “off” I was feeling not having a camera on me everyday—almost a sort of withdrawal; great situations begging to be photographed just seemed to be flying by constantly. Sure, I’ve got a camera in my iPhone 3GS but the lens is badly scratched and using a cell phone as a real camera doesn’t do it for me—crap form factor. And, my EOS kit and accessories weigh almost 40lbs, so that was out of the question for trip snapshots. Laos is a place where you really should have a small camera on you at all times. There are just too many interesting things happening.

So, while making a Visa run to the Thai border, I discovered there is a Canon Concept Store in Vientiane run by SOA, Co. I have to admit, I wasn’t holding out for much. I really didn’t believe they would have what I was looking for.

SOA’s Canon Concept Store, 181 Rue Thadeua, Vientiane, Laos

So I was genuinely surprised—I was surprised because I’ve only come across one other store in Laos that had a decent selection of electronics, but they didn’t carry Canon. Long story short, I sent a message very late on Thursday to SOA’s Facebook page. And I had a message waiting for me Friday morning. We messaged back and forth a bit and they let me know that they had the camera in stock, in the color I wanted (I’ll take a camera in any color as long as it is black), and what the price was. Pricing was higher than in the USA, which I knew beforehand. But, it was cheaper than in Thailand, which really surprised me.

When I arrived, I was greeted by a woman named Tar. She was quite helpful (despite my atrocious pronunciation of the nine Lao words I know), got the camera out, charged the battery, installed the SD card, and set the time/date. And brought me a glass of cold water (it is about 97°, but the ‘feels like’ temperature is about 111°). Nice service! So, just for the hell of it, meet Tar:

She has that “I get photographed by customers too often” look…

If you happend to be traveling in Laos and need some Canon gear (they stock everything from “L” glass to point & shoots to printers—and I think they have Apple products also), stop by SOA’s Canon Concept Store and take a look around.

Canon store Laos.

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As I wandered down the river I noticed a bunch of Hmong busy on the other side of a large truck. As I came around the truck I was briefly taken back to the scene in Apocalypse Now where the camera is cutting back and forth between Willard killing Kurtz and the ritual slaughter of a water buffalo.

Of course this doesn’t look anything like the movie, but it was the closest thing to seeing a water buffalo slaughtered in SE Asia I’ve experienced. Odd what pops to mind when you come upon a scene in life that is so different to what you see in your native land.

I think it was machetes In Apocalypse Now, but I’m guessing it was an ax this time.

Yeah, guts. Click to enlarge if you really want to.

Hmong: 1. Water buffalo: 0.

This boy was headed back to his home and was too shy for a photo, but with some help from a new friend I just met and hamming it up a bit he finally cracked a smile. Let me posit the obvious: kids here do not believe meat magically comes in a plastic-wrapped styrofoam package from the grocery store.

On the way home.

As I mentioned above I met a new friend. When I approached the crowd (and I barely know one word in Hmong) someone said “Hello! How are you?” in excellent English. That someone turned out to be a 17yo high schooler named Boun Mee Xay. His english was very limited, but what he did know, he knew how to pronounce very well. We chatted a bit and he mentioned that he had a garden on this small island in the river. Being an avid gardener, I suggested we cross the river and take a look. He showed me some squash plants, some things I didn’t recognize (and we didn’t know how to communicate the plant’s names), and these eggplant bushes. Eggplant is difficult to grow in the Pacific Northwest where I live because of the relatively low temperature and light levels. Not the case here. That’s the biggest eggplant plant I’ve ever seen. The eggplants were shaped and colored purple the same as the common eggplants in the USA. However, they were much smaller (and least at the point I saw them, maybe they grow much larger, I haven’t seen them in the market here). But this bush was just covered with them.

As with virtually all the Hmong and Lao people I’ve met, he was exceedingly gracious. He invited me back to his house to give me a motorcycle ride back to the guesthouse where I’m staying (which was great as I had about 40lbs of camera gear on my back). When in his house I met the family in this order: Grandfather, grandmother (shy, off to the side), father, mother, and brothers and sister. He then asked me if I wanted to stay for dinner, which I declined as I had to get back to meet friends. Then he offered me a share of their water buffalo meat! I declined that also as we don’t have a kitchen where we are staying. At that point we drank some Hmong tea and he pointed to the TV and told me it was a Hmong channel (Note to self: TV sucks in every country I’ve been in). I didn’t think it respectful to take photos, so there aren’t any of the inside of the house. I said my goodbyes and went out to get on the motorcycle. He started it and I got on and he stated in complete surprise “You are heavy!!” He’s about 5′ and probably weighs 110lbs soaking wet. I’m guessing he’s never had a live 240lb load on the back of his motorcycle. We headed off.

As we headed down the road, he said “Let’s go see my English teacher” and we whipped a u-turn and came to a stop before a wooden room with a very low light level (these pix below where shot at 12,800 ISO to get a barely acceptable shutter speed… it was much darker than it appears), some old desks, and one whiteboard. There I found his energetic English teacher and three of his friends getting tutoring after school. The teacher works all day at the school then puts in three more hours a night tutoring at this small room in town. He’s dedicated.

His teacher wasted exactly zero seconds putting this native English speaker to work. He wrote sentences (his English was near perfect—actually textbook perfect) and had me read them. Then the kids had to read a question and I would answer. Then I would read another set of questions and answers and they would repeat after me. I was there about a half an hour and with their turbo-teacher we covered a lot. I was peppered with many questions and would repeat them and then respond. I don’t know how their teacher keeps it up. He’s a dynamo.

I’m still amazed at the generosity and kindness of the peoples in Laos. Considering America’s dirty war, the use of the Hmong as the CIA’s proxy army (and then our abandonment of them and their repression at the hands of the Pathet Lao), and the fact that people are maimed or killed every week by unexploded ordnance (UXO; mostly anti-personnel cluster bombs) America dropped on them for ten years, I expected some hostility. It could be that they are too young to remember, that they don’t want to remember, or some other reason I can’t decipher.

But I’m very happy that I found these people. I it is so wonderful for me to discover cultures like this. This won’t be my only trip here.

Apocalypse Now Redux, Redux. NSFS (Not Safe For Squeamish).

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