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In pursuit of the perfect Potala Palace picture


View Tibet and Yunnan 2013 on Chris Parsons's travel map.

Lhasa takes your breath away, quite literally as we discovered when we stepped off the plane at 3,700m. Canisters of oxygen were provided in our airport transfer car and next to the minibar in the hotel room, but being experienced in the acclimatization business we refused to succumb to their temptations. After 24 hours of suffering we were ready for Lhasa, and Lhasa was ready for us.

The Potala Palace also takes your breath away: not only for its scale (1,000 rooms, 113m high and 2m thick walls), but also for its dramatic setting and dizzying construction which make it quite unlike any other building in the world. Even seeing it for what felt like the hundredth time, our eyes were still drawn magnetically to it; such is its captivating power. Capturing this emotional response in a photograph is impossible, of course, but that didn’t stop us from trying. And so we embarked on a quest for the perfect Potala picture.

We used an early drive-by as a reconnaissance, checking out the light and shade on the Palace walls, imagining the trajectory of the sun and assessing the promising backdrop of mountain peaks. An elevated viewpoint to the south west of the Potala seemed promising, and a quick non-Google search (this is China, remember) revealed this to be King Medicine Hill. We hatched a plan to return early the following morning armed with bagfuls of camera gear.

The following morning was overcast, but undeterred, we hailed a rickshaw to take us to the viewpoint. We were dropped off some distance short – at first I thought we were about to be victims of a scam, but in fact this was as close as our rickshaw could get. Security around the Potala was tight, for this happened to be the first day of the Shoton Festival and a big show was taking place that evening in the square in front of the Palace, featuring live performances and a fireworks display. We paid 2 yuan each to climb the steps to King Medicine Hill and reeled off a few photos of the Potala under brooding skies. We knew the photos were nothing spectacular, but they were 'bankers' and might look quite effective in black and white.

Potala Palace in monochrome

Potala Palace in monochrome

The same website that had given us the name of the viewpoint also mentioned a small temple nearby which afforded another view of the Potala from a slightly different angle, so we headed there next. Events took a turn for the bizarre at this point. The temple kept two tame blue sheep (a wild species normally found at high altitudes in the Himalayas). Here was an animal I had spent many hours tracking across remote mountain slopes in India and Nepal in a vain attempt to photograph, now practically tame enough to eat out of my hand. I knelt down for an eye-level photo (at this point a pet rabbit had taken shelter under the sheep’s body, adding an even more surreal aspect to the scene). The blue sheep faced down my camera lens and charged – I had to take evasive action to avoid a head butt. Round one to the sheep, but it wasn’t finished there. Clearly thinking I was a rival worth seeing off, the sheep made repeated attacks on both me and Jen, and only by grabbing its horns could I stop it. Salvation came in the form of a friendly local, clearly highly amused by proceedings, who managed to distract the sheep with some food, allowing us to dodge into the temple. The photos of the Potala from here, it has to be said, were not really worth the effort.

Potala from the Pabuluk Temple

Potala from the Pabuluk Temple

Early afternoon saw us back at King Medicine Hill with our fingers on the shutters again, this time with the Potala looking resplendent in the sunshine. We had just finished our guided tour of the Palace: all tourists are allotted a one-hour time slot, such is the popularity of the tour. It’s forbidden to take photos inside the Palace, but there are plenty of interesting angles as you climb the switchback stairs to the main entrance, and we covered them all. Now we had a set of classic Potala images, and we thought that was that.

Potala Palace in the sunshine

Potala Palace in the sunshine


Climbing the stairs to the Potala Palace

Climbing the stairs to the Potala Palace

But the quest was not over. Our Tibetan guide Phurpu mentioned how impressive the Potala looked at night, when the whole building is floodlit. Suddenly our mission seemed unfulfilled without that night-time shot. Musing over this problem at a local café later, it struck me that if I could get on to the roof of the hotel, I would have an unrivaled view of the Palace from another angle. I’m not sure guests are supposed to go on the roof, given that it involved crawling through an access hatch at the top of the stairs, but I was proved right. Now all was set!

Potala Palace from the hotel roof

Potala Palace from the hotel roof

Dinner came and went and night began to fall. Over in the Potala Square, the various dignitaries, officials and army officers were assembling for the Shoton Festival show. Just when it seemed our quest would be fulfilled, the weather decided to intervene. Rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning signalled a major storm was about to hit the city. I fired off some shots of the Potala before the rain arrived, beautifully floodlit and looking magnificent. Yes!

Potala Palace illuminated at night

Potala Palace illuminated at night

But my ultimate Potala Palace photo is none of the above. In fact, it’s an image I hadn’t conceived and didn’t even realise I had taken. As the storm raged outside I caught another sound in between the thunderclaps: the fireworks had begun. Wouldn’t it be cool to capture the Palace and the fireworks in the same photo, I thought. With the rain now pelting down (those poor Chinese dignitaries), I found a window at the end of the corridor outside our hotel room which afforded a good enough view of events, braced myself against the window frame and began to reel off some continuous shots of the fireworks exploding, hoping to capture the perfect moment. Well I got it, and then some: it seems God himself decided to partake in the display. It’s not sharp, but it’s a one-off!

Potala Palace lightning strike

Potala Palace lightning strike

Posted by Chris Parsons 06:19 Archived in China Tagged photography tibet lhasa potala Comments (2)

Picture This...

...a small cycle ride through Southern Thailand

35 °C

Exploring the lanes around Ban Bang Burd

Exploring the lanes around Ban Bang Burd


The world at work, Samsen District, Bangkok

The world at work, Samsen District, Bangkok

Typing into Google “map of Bangkok to Phuket” brought back a somewhat flippant repsonse from the well known search engine: 825km in 10 hours and 21 minutes! Really? Actually it was more like 600k, and 10 days but then again it’s only me who’s quibbling.

Cycling from Bangkok to Phuket, was rather an indulgent afterthought on my list of 2013 travel destinations. But a long-ish spell of horrible cold wet and snowy weather in the North of England, combined with one bug after another, convinced me to book some time with the sunshine, and what is rapidly becoming, my Painted Roads extended family. Arriving in Bangkok on the 27 January, to be greeted warmly by friends and a cold bottle of Singha I could scarcely believe it. Three weeks previously it wasn’t even a figment of my imagination.

David Walker (Painted Roads) knows how to keep his customers happy!

David Walker (Painted Roads) knows how to keep his customers happy!

Having been in Thailand only 12 months ago, this promised to be what I would actually call a ‘holiday’ , something with an emphasis on the R&R rather than my usual adventurous line up of ‘epics’. Having said that, I was admittedly most excited about what I generally refer to as “the bits in between”.
The Thailand most tourists are familiar with probably looks something like this...

Destination Thailand: A longtail boat in the Malacca Strait

Destination Thailand: A longtail boat in the Malacca Strait

...and while we did indulge ourselves at the end of the tour, I was more keen on discovering what I would find on the way there, behind the scenes, as it were.

What you don't find in the brochure - cows come for me outside the military base in Pretchuap Khiri Khan

What you don't find in the brochure - cows come for me outside the military base in Pretchuap Khiri Khan

It would also probably be an underestimate to say I was quite excited to take my new OMD-EM5 for a proper road test, complete with two new lenses – the Olympus 17mm f1.8 and 45mm f1.8. Having been cooped up at home by the properly dreich blizzard, sleet and drizzle for the better part three weeks, with only one dog photo to show for my efforts, I couldn’t make it to the Airport check-in fast enough. In Thailand those without OMD’s were a borderline minority group, as both our tour leader David, and JP both had their’s with them. This inevitably lead to a number of very satisfying ‘total geek-out’ sessions, washed down with a Singha or two. Naturally.

OMD photo-geekery in Bangkok

OMD photo-geekery in Bangkok

Thailand is noticeably the most developed nation in South East Asia, so the opportunities for street photography of the style I’ve been used to in Vietnam, Kyrgyzstan, Nepal and India were less obvious. But interesting landscapes, sunrises and sunsets were fortunately plentiful, despite some initial weather challenges.

I have one abiding memory from the trip, of getting caught in a thunderstorm (possibly power shower?), with two hours of cycling left to do on our first day. After avoiding making a decision for about 20 minutes, we eventually departed from our huddle in a nearby shelter to hammer through the pelting rain. I wore no more than shorts and a t-shirt, having abandoned the idea that waterproofs could keep out such a sustained attack. But instead found something very liberating about cycling into the storm, no hands, soaked to the skin, and yet warm enough to confidently invite as much rain as the heavens could possibly throw at me. I did so with a large smile on my face - there was certainly not a hope in hell of achieving this in the UK with out initiating the onset of hypothermia, which just served to remind me I was on holiday. In Thailand! As a fitting end to the afternoon therefore, I thought it best to jump fully clothed straight into the surf at Ban Krut, much to the amusement of the locals (#mad Englishwoman). Well why on earth not?
The following dawn, I was suitably rewarded for my efforts. The photography gods were smiling and the sun had got its hat on.

Threatening weather on the East Coast

Threatening weather on the East Coast


The morning after on the coast road at Ban Krut

The morning after on the coast road at Ban Krut

Dawn surf at Ban Krut

Dawn surf at Ban Krut

I must confess, after initially reviewing my photographs on the back of the camera, (admitedly in the blazing sunshine) I wasn’t overwhelmed by my efforts. But now, having gone through all of the files, I have been struck by just how many photographs actually turned out better than I had thought. Some even make quite striking images once “developed”, though they look dull in RAW format. This is the first time I have really photographed entirely in RAW, and I can say unequivocally that I will not be returning to JPEGs in-camera. I’ve also been utterly astonished at the quality of the 45mm Olympus lens. Images from this amazing construction seem to have a luminous quality that I can’t really put into words.. .other than to say that it takes me back to photos taken by my Dad with his old Leica. The 17mm seems to have done the job for now, but I don’t yet feel I’ve given it enough of a test, or sufficiently mastered the controls of the OMD to understand whether I’ve seen the best it can do. All I can say, is “it’s not the 45”, which goes some way to explain why it hasn’t spent sufficient time yet on the frontend of the OMD.

Karst Limestone scenery captured with the Olympus 45mm at f2.5

Karst Limestone scenery captured with the Olympus 45mm at f2.5


Undulations, captured with the Olympus 45mm at f1.8

Undulations, captured with the Olympus 45mm at f1.8



Some cat action on Koh Yao Noi, captured with the Olympus 45mm at f1.8

Some cat action on Koh Yao Noi, captured with the Olympus 45mm at f1.8

Our cycling route took us from Prachuap Khiri Khan on the East Coast (Gulf of Thailand) down to Pak Nam Tako (just beyond Chumphon). From here we then began to turn inland towards our destination on the West Coast: Ao Luek and Koh Yao Noi in the Malacca Strait. This took us through fishing villages, past wind-swept surfing beaches, through coconut groves, along Highway 4 – the main arterial route North-South through Thailand, and finally through beautiful Karst Limestone scenery to the Ratchaprapha Dam, Ao Luek and the picture perfect East Coast.

Cycling through Ao Luek

Cycling through Ao Luek

A short long-tail boat trip delivered us to the quiet island of Koh Yao Noi, perfectly set up for the chillout backpacking crowd. By the time we reached the island, we were ready to fit right in. Hammock. Check. Singha. Check. Sunset. Check. Bob Marley on speed dial...hmmm. Ok so we swapped the reggae for Blondie, but everything else was definitely in order. We were almost in a fit state to cope with Phuket, and the perks of being a tourist!
I would like to extend a huge thank you to David for lending me various bits and pieces of lenses filters and tripods, for photographic inspriation, and to both him and his team, Ar and Gor for such a fabulous trip. (Again).

David Walker in evening photography-mode

David Walker in evening photography-mode


Squid Boats on the East Coast

Squid Boats on the East Coast


Sunset in Koh Yao Noi

Sunset in Koh Yao Noi

Sunset in Phuket

Sunset in Phuket

Posted by jparsons 16:55 Tagged thailand photography cycling Comments (3)

Crocodiles on mopeds and other tales from Hanoi

The crazy street life of Vietnam's second city


View North East Vietnam 2012 on Chris Parsons's travel map.

Last year's brief visit to Hanoi left a strong impression, even though Jen and I weren't able to make the most of our time there. Arriving straight from the Himalayas, we were tired and preoccupied by lists of errands. We arranged excursions to take us out of the city, thinking we would prefer the tranquillity of the coast and countryside to rubbing shoulders with millions of Vietnamese. It was probably the right decision at the time but it left me feeling short-changed by Hanoi. So we did the obvious thing - we went back.

Returning less than a year later felt like a homecoming rather than a holiday. Not only were we reunited with our cycling chums, David (Painted Roads tour leader), Phong (local guide) and Eddie (impossible to categorize), but we instantly fell in love with the city all over again. Hanoi casts its spell in unexpected ways. The guidebooks may try to talk up its tourist sites, but it's not the prospect of puppets, pagodas or pickled propagandists that excites me. Instead, it's the pulsating bustle of Hanoians going about their daily business in the enchanting Old Quarter. This is the beating heart of the city, an inside-out place where everything happens on the street. Ladies in shimmering blouses and stilettos revving their mopeds; pensive groups of men hunched over their cờ tướng boards on street corners; flower sellers weaving their bicycles between uniformed schoolchildren; street food vendors stirring, frying, serving and smiling. With so much life on show, we were keen to brush up on our street photography.

A motorcyclist stops to check his phone on the busy road along Hoan Kiem Lake's east side

A motorcyclist stops to check his phone on the busy road along Hoan Kiem Lake's east side


Parents coming to collect their children in Hanoi cause a traffic jam outside the school gates

Parents coming to collect their children in Hanoi cause a traffic jam outside the school gates

The Old Quarter was our base for the few days we spent in the city. Here, we watched Hanoi wake up, go to work, take coffee, exercise and go to sleep. A great many hours were spent at the street café opposite our hotel, sipping glasses of bia hơi and watching the city pass us by. At other times I would go off to explore, walking the streets morning, noon and night in search of the unexpected. Despite venturing no more than a mile from the hotel, my senses were thoroughly overwhelmed.

At first light, the street vendors begin to appear. Every morning, an estimated 10,000 of them - mostly women - converge on Hanoi from the surrounding rural provinces, as they have done for centuries. They bring fresh produce from their farms, but it’s not just fruit and vegetables they sell. I passed one lady whose bamboo baskets had been transformed into mobile ponds full of splashing turtles. Fresh ingredients are very important in Vietnamese cuisine, so the street vendors fulfil the same role as a Tesco Express would in the UK.

These women are amongst the poorest people in the city, earning around US$2 a day. Worse still, their earnings can be confiscated by the overzealous police, who increasingly enforce local laws which place restrictions or even outright bans on street selling. I have since discovered that the British government has recently provided funding for a project to improve the lives of Hanoi's street vendors.

My attempt to go undercover in Hanoi falls short of the mark

My attempt to go undercover in Hanoi falls short of the mark


One of the many women who travel to Hanoi on a daily basis to earn a meagre living as a street trader

One of the many women who travel to Hanoi on a daily basis to earn a meagre living as a street trader


A street vendor completes a sale at one of Hanoi's many food markets

A street vendor completes a sale at one of Hanoi's many food markets

Hanoi’s street cafés are a local institution enjoyed by city folk and foreigners alike. Space is at a premium in the Old Quarter, so the clientele sit on child-sized plastic chairs out in the street and conduct high-volume conversation over the noise of passing mopeds. Many cafés serve the aforementioned bia hơi, a weak home brew costing around 8,000 dong (25p) a glass. The quality can vary but at that price, who's complaining?

Others are purveyors of Vietnamese-branded coffee, a distinctive beverage filtered slowly into the cup and mixed with condensed milk. The connoisseur’s choice is cà phê Chồn or “weasel coffee”, the world’s most expensive variety. The coffee beans have passed through the digestive tract of an Asian palm civet (a weasel-like animal) which supposedly takes the bitter edge off the taste. A rather bizarre fact which begs the obvious question: who discovered it?

A smoker with his glass of bia hoi at a street café in Hanoi

A smoker with his glass of bia hoi at a street café in Hanoi


A newspaper seller cycles past a Hanoi café in the city's Old Quarter

A newspaper seller cycles past a Hanoi café in the city's Old Quarter

To the south of the Old Quarter lies Hoan Kiem Lake, the spiritual heart of the city. I wrote a blog article last year which discussed the famous giant turtle which inhabits the lake, a creature so rare it seems destined to join the dodo on the path to extinction. There were no turtle sightings on this occasion, but our lakeside walks offered up a number of equally extraordinary visions.

Dragging ourselves down to Hoan Kiem at dawn, we found the paths and parks had been taken over by a small army of exercising Hanoians, all stretching, pumping and burning. Around the lake swarmed an anticlockwise wave of joggers and power-walkers, whilst in a public square nearby, impromptu classes were being held for aerobics, salsa, ballroom, tai chi and, my favourite of all, laughter yoga. Perhaps they were laughing at the committed fitness fanatic who was attempting to target all his major muscle groups whilst sat on a park bench.

Laughter yoga is the latest craze sweeping Hanoi

Laughter yoga is the latest craze sweeping Hanoi

In the evening, another swathe of the population descends on the lake’s leafy promenades. The exercisers are now a minority, but this only seems to encourage exhibitionist tendencies, judging from the shirtless men performing chin-ups on lampposts and five-minute headstands at the very edge of the water. Meanwhile, young lovers stroll hand in hand and wedding photographers fuss over their subjects as they contrive to maximise the romantic potential of the scene. Quite what the turtle makes of it all, I can only wonder.

Ly Thai To park is floodlit at night, providing a perfect stage for skateboarders, breakdancers and rollerbladers

Ly Thai To park is floodlit at night, providing a perfect stage for skateboarders, breakdancers and rollerbladers


Performing your yoga routine at the water's edge adds an element of danger!

Performing your yoga routine at the water's edge adds an element of danger!

The action has spread to the nearby square, where the painted lines of badminton courts are being put to good use. There are no racquets to be seen, however, for the game of choice is played with the feet. The Vietnamese call it đá cầu and have made it their national sport, but it originated as jianzi in China. The standard is (literally) very high, with some unbelievable agility on show as the players leap at the net to smash the shuttlecock down into the opponent’s forecourt with their feet.

Despite all the activity on show, the Vietnamese revert to type when it comes to road transport: everyone and everything travels by motorbike. In Bangkok airport’s duty free zone I came across a neat little book called Bikes of Burden, a photo journal from across Vietnam showing an amazing variety of cargo being transported on bikes, from furniture to scaffold frames, carpets to water tanks and livestock to ornamental goldfish. We kept an eye out for unusual bikes of burden ourselves and found the Hanoians more than lived up to expectations. My favourite was a giant cuddly crocodile toy about the same size as the rider. Sadly there’s no photo to prove this – I obviously wasn’t snappy enough.

Crocodile! Snappy! Ok, I’ll get my coat.

A typical scene in the Old Quarter, where all manner of goods are transported by motorbike

A typical scene in the Old Quarter, where all manner of goods are transported by motorbike


A bamboo ladder would be a challenge to carry by oneself, but a passenger helps to balance the load

A bamboo ladder would be a challenge to carry by oneself, but a passenger helps to balance the load

Posted by Chris Parsons 13:03 Archived in Vietnam Tagged people food markets bikes vietnam hanoi photography Comments (3)

Snap happy: a photographer's perspective


View Kathmandu to Kuala Lumpur 2011 on Chris Parsons's travel map.

This is one for the photography enthusiasts – I make no apologies for the techno geekery which follows!

Several months of planning went into the trip and a large part of my time was spent deliberating over what camera/cameras to take. Jen and I both enjoy photography, and since buying our first DSLR in 2007 (for our first trip to the Himalayas), we have both become converts to the superior image quality, responsiveness and creativity when compared to digital compact cameras. That camera was a Pentax K100D, an entry-level model that we chose over the more common Canikons because it was good value, had in-body image stabilisation and was backed by a line up of compact, inexpensive lenses.

The K100D was a solid warhorse but was beginning to show its age, so I decided we would replace it for this trip. After much umming and arring we finally plumped for another Pentax DSLR, the flagship Pentax K-5. When it arrived, the 400-page user manual and lack of an automatic mode signalled that this was a serious piece of kit. It has headline-grabbing features such as live view and a video mode, but for me the biggest selling point was the weather-sealed body. When paired with Pentax's similarly weather resistant (WR) lenses, we had full protection against dust, sand and rain. In 2007, I had to do some emergency sensor cleaning on the K100D at Annapurna Base Camp after our sunrise photos were spoiled by dust spots, so I was sold on the strength of this feature alone. The K-5 also brought us numerous other improvements: a high-resolution sensor, reduced noise, higher ISO, better autofocus, more user control, a quiet shutter and an impressive viewfinder.

King of the mountains - the Pentax K-5 poses on a Himalayan pass

King of the mountains - the Pentax K-5 poses on a Himalayan pass

It proved to be an excellent package when paired with the WR kit lenses (18-55mm and 50-200mm), and withstood monsoon rains in Nepal, blizzards in India and the dusty roads of Vietnam. It even survived an accidental dunking when Jen, who was carrying it round her neck, decided to audition for Total Wipeout by falling off a rolling log into a lake in Thailand. This wasn't the only pitfall to befall our camera gear. The K-5 had an unscheduled sleepover in a Darjeeling restaurant and one of our SD cards decided to go for a little dip in the sea.

The compromises with a DSLR are weight and bulk, important considerations for us with the amount of trekking and cycling we had planned. We wanted to be able to reach for the camera at all times so the means of carrying it was another issue. I purchased a Lowepro Apex case which comfortably held the K-5, the kit lenses and all the usual paraphernalia (batteries, SD cards, filters etc.) This could be attached to the waist belt of a backpack, carried in the hand or slung over a shoulder, so it was always quick to retrieve on trek. In fact, thanks to the K-5's weather sealing we rarely put the camera in the case. The same was true on the bike ride, which meant we would more readily stop for photos than if the camera had been buried in a rucksack.

Jen photographing the Nam Ou River in Laos

Jen photographing the Nam Ou River in Laos

Reviewing the photos from our previous treks, I discovered that the most commonly used focal length was 18mm (equivalent to 27mm on a full frame camera), the wide end of our kit lens. So a few weeks before we left I treated myself to a little luxury – a 15mm prime lens from Pentax's delicious "Limited" lens collection. This little jewel weighs just over 200g, has a constant maximum aperture of f4.0 and all-metal construction (including a retractable hood). We made good use of it for wide angle landscapes and shots inside buildings too.

A high altitude valley on the Manaslu Circuit - shot with the Pentax DA 15mm and an ND8 filter

A high altitude valley on the Manaslu Circuit - shot with the Pentax DA 15mm and an ND8 filter

The one place we couldn't take the K-5 was underwater (not without a very expensive housing). To enable us to take photos of the Andaman Sea's marine life, we also carried a compact 'rugged' camera, the Panasonic Lumix DMC-FT2. This is waterproof to a depth of 10m, perfect for snorkelers. Underwater photography is perhaps the most challenging field to master. You have to contend with a lack of natural light, the changing colour spectrum with depth, strong waves and currents and moving subjects, some of which can kill you with a single bite or sting! Not only that, but snorkelers are also constrained by the time they can hold their breath and their buoyancy, which makes it difficult to control position on a dive. Any compact camera struggles under such conditions, and the FT2 was no exception. Taking good underwater images is more a matter of luck than skill – I probably discarded 80% of my shots instantly. Worse still, the zoom lens utilises folded optics. This means the lens does not extend and can therefore be sealed within the camera body, but there is a trade-off in image quality, especially when zoomed in. Occasionally, however, it did produce a corker.

Colourful clams in the crystal-clear water of Tarutao National Park

Colourful clams in the crystal-clear water of Tarutao National Park

We take it in turns to carry the camera. Jen is great at spotting and snapping the most dramatic landscapes, and she takes great portraits too. My approach is a bit more scattergun – I take more photos, but they tend to be a mixed bag! I also like wildlife, action and architecture as subjects. People are always interesting subjects but capturing the right expression is tricky, especially with a hulking great DSLR. They can react in unwanted ways: reticence, anger, self-consciousness or showing off! Sometimes a little ice-breaker is needed to establish a rapport between photographer and subject, especially when language is a barrier. At Gumba Lundang in Nepal, we wanted to take photos of the Buddhist nuns, but they seemed a little shy. We approached a couple of the younger girls to ask permission, and they agreed. Showing them the images on the camera's LCD screen sparked a sudden change, and within seconds we had a crowd of nuns round the camera, all clamouring for their photograph to be taken. A bicycle is another great icebreaker. We had some very good photographers on the Red Spokes cycle tour, and it was instructive watching them in action. In a group situation you need a camera on you at all times to capture those fleeting moments which will get a good reaction when you share them later. I missed lots, but fortunately others were always on hand!

Sharing our photos with the nuns of Gumba Lundang

Sharing our photos with the nuns of Gumba Lundang

In four months of travel, it's difficult to be 'up' for photography every single day. Even sharing the work between two, there were still a few days when the camera stayed in the case. But we've certainly enjoyed taking all our photos and sharing some of them on this blog. Now we are back home we're enjoying them even more on the TV screen. The K-5 has been a superb tool for the job – yes I still wish for faster, longer lenses (particularly for those damn wildlife shots) but would I have been prepared to carry them? No way! On the other hand, I'm very taken with the new breed of compact system cameras, especially after seeing David, our Red Spokes tour leader, using his Panasonic GF1.

If I were doing a similar trip again (if only), I would seriously consider investing in a rangefinder style body from the Panasonic/Olympus Micro Four Thirds system, which seems to me to have the right balance of size, image quality, product range and value. I would also take a high-end compact camera with a fast, sharp lens and an underwater housing (unless the manufacturers can seriously improve the image quality and performance from their waterproof cameras). Must do some research....

I've been asked by lots of people how many photos we took on our trip. All will be revealed in the next and final blog entry, but to give you some idea, I'll leave you with this thought. If a picture speaks a thousand words, then we have a potential War and Peace on our hands.

Posted by Chris Parsons 15:21 Archived in Malaysia Tagged photography Comments (2)

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