When I was a teenager and didn't know anything about whales or lesbians, I heard Margaret Cho say 'lesbians love whale watching. they fucking love it.'
I didn't know what any of that was.
Well, Margaret Cho, you were RIGHT. I fucking love it.
A whale named Pepper.
A whale named Little Dimple and her calf. Who is somehow, sadly, not called Littler Dimple.
All dolphins are whales. But not all whales are dolphins.
Mola-mola always astound me with their.. strangeness. I love them.
SQUEEEE. OTTERS.
In flight pelagic cormorant left before I could ask, can I kelp you?
We saw ALL of these on a three hour sunset whale watching trip with Monterey Bay Whale Watch. It's a company led by marine biologists, and everything is extremely professional. The marine biologists onboard knew all of the beautiful animals by name and sight. I learned so much! I shall commit to trying to go at least once a month (best employee perk for me)!
For an all hands meeting at work, I was asked if I wanted to share a story about my life and how I got here.
It has not been the easiest, holding all of these identities and selves, often in places that did not welcome me. I think sometimes of Merantau: of finding a home away from home. All of my parts and intersections make up the messy and glorious bits that I have lived and experienced.
I turn forty this year. I want so much to tell the four year old self: it's going to be fine, you're going to have fun, one day you are going to put up beautiful photos of your life and tell your story to everyone.
I have a new job, which also means new views! Million dollar views, in fact.
I so love this part of the world: when Sabrena and I first moved to California back in 2018, we were so excited to finally be somewhere where we could travel with our dog, Cookie. We booked a trip and came to Monterey for my birthday that year. I wanted to see the aquarium, and I wanted to experience being in a hotel room with Cookie. We got that and so much more.
7 years on, I now work at Monterey Bay Aquarium. How I got to this was pretty fun: I like going on long runs, and I like listening to podcasts on topics I know absolutely nothing about. Back in May, all of my running podcasts were about marine biology, marine science, oceanography and deep sea research. The podcasts often reference Monterey Bay Aquarium and our partner org, MBARI (Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute). I was obsessed with the stories about deep sea research, and the Into the Deep exhibit. I resolved to visit again, and to see the exhibit.
A view of Monterey Bay.
While looking up information about the exhibit at the aquarium, I noticed that they were hiring a Director of Product Management — which is what I do! I applied, of course.
The rest is history. Never in a million years did I think I would end up with such a cool position. I have an interesting commute where, once a week I take a shuttle from SFO Airport that takes me right into downtown Monterey. While there, I spend a couple of days, in a cute little room I rent. I live with a few other queer people, we like cooking for each other, and watching Interview With the Vampire at night, so it's been quite ideal, actually.
After five years of almost fully remote work, or working two blocks from work, I was ready for a change of scene. I love to travel but can't travel too much internationally at the moment, so this was perfect for me.
Invasive ice plants near the water, right outside Costco in Seaside
Sabrena came to help me setup the IKEA furniture. It was sad not to have Cookie there with us this time, but I'm getting to get familiar with the Monterey, Pacific Grove, Seaside, Marina areas. The coastal trail is my favorite: I can bike or run or walk to work quite easily, without ever coming across a motorized vehicle. Last weekend, I ran to several Korean markets in Marina and Seaside, where I came across the happy 'secret' that Marina / Seaside have tons of great Korean grocery stores with homemade banchan and many types of homemade kimchi.
The produce that we get at San Francisco farmer's markets also all come from here, so the produce is cheap and good and plentiful. It's going to be hard living anywhere else after this. Good vegetables go for '3 for $5', which is a great deal (here in Monterey and in San Francisco).
Some days, I grieve the life I left behind in Singapore, but I also know this for a fact: we've built ourselves a wonderful and beautiful life here.
Even though the world feels like it's too much somes days, I feel unreasonably lucky to be here, to be able to work on things I care about, to be surrounded by people who give a shit about the world. And to be able to eat delicious food.
Nikon D810, 200-500mm lens. Alcatraz Island, just off San Francisco
In the early days of Covid-19, a friend said 'we're getting old let's do old people things', so we picked 'birding'. Looks like it stuck.
Here, a photo of some baby Western gulls on Alcatraz island, which has many types of birds, including falcons, and herons and more. While Western gulls are kind of 'boring', I do love how these baby gulls have spots on their heads.
Nikon D810, 200-500mm lens, somewhere near the Farallon Islands
Once or twice a year I try to get on a boat out to the Farallon Islands with birders in the Bay Area. Pelagic birding is my absolute favorite type of birding: being able to get out in the ocean and see a huge amount of sea life of all types is a treat.
In June this year I had the opportunity to head out there again. And this was a lucky shot.
I love the Mission. Specifically, I love the less gentrified parts of it. There's still so much life and culture; DJs spinning records on the street, bands playing live Latin jazz, record stores where you can explore cumbria, and Indigenous dance groups that perform at the many plazas.
Despite its many problems, the Mission is where I default to for food, adventure and fun. And to just generally feel alive.
I took all of these photos on my iPhone yesterday.
Windows.
Universal Bakery has a wonderful torta de carne asada. With a huge block of salty cheese. It's the perfect sandwich for me.
I love the colors of the Mission.
More colors.
Ever since I started shooting medium format on film, I've much preferred square or 1:1 photos. It helps me see the world in a different way.
Whenever I can, I make the 45 minute walk to Chinatown in San Francisco to Dim Sum Bistro, my favorite 'cheap dimsum' spot. Sometimes, I take photos too.
I say this every chance I get: dimsum isn't always 'cheap' food. Dimsum can be fancy, and should be fancy, because to make large amounts of high quality dimsum you need a very large team. 'Nice dimsum' is a treat. It's a birthday meal, it's a treat you give your parents, it's going out to linger over nice tea and good ingredients to snack on dishes you probably won't make at home.
Cheap dimsum also has a place. But it should still be fresh and of relatively high quality. The menu should be large and the 'skin' of dumplings shouldn't be too thick. On these metrics, many of the other Chinatown dimsum places don't pass muster for me. But Dim Sum Bistro always delivers. So I'm glad it's here, and I'm glad I can have good, cheap dimsum.
As a person from the literal equator, I struggle a lot with winter. Not the cold, since it's not really that cold here in northern California, but with the increasingly shorter days. The best way I can describe it is that I feel as though my brain, happiness, and overall health is powered by the sun. The sun is my battery. The less of it there is, the worse I feel. Every year, without fail.
Going out for a run or walk daily has been the only thing that's worked to help me feel okay consistently. Even when it's grey and gloomy and rainy (the extent of winter here in San Francisco, but already way too awful for me), I try to go out for a run. I carry a tiny Olympus XA2 in my pocket and I take photos of the things that I see.
I see many beautiful things, because San Francisco is beautiful, and being outside in the beauty restores me.
Sunny, windy days.
Market days at Fort Mason.
Overcast but still lovely days.
(All photos taken on an Olympus XA2, Fuji Superia 400, self-developed at home with Bellini C-41 kit and scanned on Plustek 8200i)
I've been keeping a 'creative notebook' for the better part of the year. I was trying to learn many things at once, and wanted to help make sense of it.
Here are some things I wrote in my creative notebook about the three main things I worked on this year in my practice: taking photos, playing alto sax, and learning darkroom as well as inkjet printing.
Bridge at Dolores Park, San Francisco. (Leica M3, Kodak 250D).
shoot ten thousand photos in 2023 on color, black and white and slides. (I got to 7000, and did a lot of color and black and white, but only a few slides). I wanted to do this as I had not been taking photos on film for more than a decade. I figured the more photos I took, the more I would learn.
learn to load film from 100ft bulk rolls (done: I load black and white, as well as slide film and motion picture film regularly)
learn to load film in film dev tank (done: the hardest thing to do was not be so impatient. That led to many kinks and crimping in the film, early on)
learn to develop black and white, C-41 (color) and ECN-2 (motion picture film) (done: I don't enjoy the ECN-2, but can easily do the rest)
how to scan 35mm and medium format film using a Fuji Frontier as well as home scanners (done: it's a regular part of my creative workflow now)
Things that seem intimidating are quickly learned, once you try
Some things feel complex and overwhelming if you try to intellectualize things in your brain. Getting motivated to just do it is more important than thinking about how to do them perfectly or expertly
Mistakes happen, and we can learn from them but mistakes that arise from being careless (for example, if I try to develop 5 rolls of film at once but I'm exhausted before I begin, I am likely to make cascading mistakes) can be avoided by being mindful of my current state
Get rested before trying new things, especially if it is a difficult thing or something I have 'failed' at previously
My classical music grounding has given me many skills: I can play almost anything written, I can still sightread extremely well, I can play 'in time' easily
However, I need to keep working on improvisation so it feels less like a mystery, and more like second nature
To do this, I need to keep practicing
Go back to basics: work on all scales and chords
Practice all the jazz standards
Spend as much time out there with working musicians as I can: I notice that if I do, even if I'm just messing around, I pick up new skills exponentially, as if by osmosis
Things that are hard on my own at home: playing the high F on the alto sax, comes almost instantly when I'm in a music studio environment with other musicians and just 'fiddling'
Same as with photography, don't intellectualize too much: trust yourself to reach a note or be able to find the right ones, and just do it
Don't get nervous about not knowing or remembering all the things
The more darkroom time I get, the more naturally it will come to me
I've already exceeded my own expectations by being able to actually produce an image (for both black and white, and color): doing something almost entirely in the dark is less anxiety-inducing than when I started
I went to a super touristy part of San Francisco for the first time
I shot slide film for the first time
I saw a very old friend from my Dubai days, for the first time in a decade
Ticket to ride.
Carousel.
Boats.
I probably won't go there for another ten years. Other than wanting to spend time with my friend, a place like Fisherman's Wharf simply accelerates my social and Covid-19 anxiety. I also don't like the shops and food there, but I know it's not for me.
When I'm back in Singapore it can be easy to fall into old habits: sleeping in till late, staying out late, doing all of those things I used to do. On my recent trips, I'm trying to remind myself that I've been away for so long my parents aren't getting younger. My parents' daily routine starts with: picking a different hawker centre every morning to eat at. I try to join them, if I can wake up (they leave extremely early).
Bukit Merah View is one of my mum's favourites. It's relatively low key and quiet, but has some heavy hitters. More importantly, there's a wanton noodle stall there run by one of our distant relatives (my mother's cousin..?). It's very simple, but always tasty. It was even recommended in Michelin Bib.
The nice thing about a hawker centre is that it's usually attached to a wet and dry market. After a leisurely breakfast I was able to wander over to the other side to pick up some essentials: like the Feng He Yuan first extract dark soy sauce. None of the dark soy sauces I get in the US compare, and it is absolutely essential for some of the traditional Hokkien and Teochew dishes that I try to cook abroad.
While I don't relish waking up at 6 in the morning when I'm on vacation, food, and family is worth it: and in this part of the world, food and family is one and the same.
Purveyor of soy sauces, chilli pastes and dried goods in Bukit Merah View market.
Carrying a retro TLR camera around my neck was fun. Many older people in Singapore looked at it, wide-eyed, and told me that they used to love their Seagull or Yashica cameras too.
Breakfast with my parents.
My distant relatives' simple, but very good, wanton noodles. If you're expecting KL style lardy savory wanton noodles, you will be disappointed: this is a basic Cantonese Singaporean style plain wanton noodles with bouncy noodles and good, basic ingredients.
View of the wet market in Singapore with tall public housing behind it.
(All photos taken on Yashica Mat 124G, Portra 400, self-dev in Bellini C-41 kit, scanned on Fuji Frontier)
I find myself spending more and more time in SF and Oakland Chinatowns. I love Chinese bakeries, so those are obviously the best places for me to get my fix. In SF Chinatown, check out Yummy Bakery and Stockton Bakery. In Oakland Chinatown I am partial to Napoleon Super Bakery. In all of those spots, pork floss bun, butter cream bun, hot dog bun, egg tarts: those are all classics. At Yummy Bakery definitely try the 'egg white tart', Japanese cheesecake and pineapple (bolo) bun. There are no pineapples in pineapple bun.
When I see old Chinese people staring at food in windows, I'm assured that that, too, is in my future. I mean I already stare at food in windows, especially in Chinatown, but I am looking forward to many more years of doing that.
This neighbourhood is meaningful to me. I spent a lot of time here as a child, running about after church, going to eat all of the food, visiting people, going to get charcoal (from the back of a lorry here) and fresh coconuts (grated at the back of a little market here).
I think my child's consciousness of the outside world was first formed here. I first became aware of the world in Tanglin Halt. There were Indonesian women who would take the ferry from Batam to sell food items from the market here, and I remember talking to them and wanting to know more about their food cultures, their language, and how I could take the ferry too (and I would often make the journey in the other direction, when I grew up).
Now that it's all been set aside for redevelopment, I feel a little sad. Some bits of it remain. But I know that when I return next, it's all going to be different, or gone. Such is life in Singapore.
I lost too much money to these machines, as a child.
Public housing apartments in Singapore's Tanglin Halt estate.
If the Burmese population in Singapore were a city in Myanmar, it'd be one of the top 10 cities.
We have many Burmese grocers, restaurants services in Peninsula Plaza and Peninsula Shopping Centre, conveniently located across the street from each other.
Here's what it looks like.
Snacks.
Menu.
Offerings.
Tea shop.
Groceries.
If you'd like to try Burmese food, my favorite restaurant at the moment is Mandalay Style, in the basement of Peninsula Plaza (try the fried chickpea tofu, tea leaf salad, tofu salad and Shan noodles).
Of all of the neighbourhoods in Singapore, I've probably spent the most time in Little India. Not only was I born in a hospital on its edges, I also lived and studied near here for several years. Every trip abroad had to start with a visit to Little India, for foreign currency, electrical adapters, or extra supplies at Mustafa Centre.
Filter coffee.
Coconuts.
Aloo pyaz.
Windows.
Alleys.
All photos taken on Nikon FE, 50mm, Kodak ProImage, dev and scan by Triple D Minilab, Singapore.
There's a touristy bit of Chinatown Singapore (Smith Street-ish) and a less touristy part. Often, they're just side by side and you need to know which doors to duck into, or which alleys to turn off into, to see the less tourist bits.
Since I grew up here, I think I have a pretty good handle on things. There are the little barely marked doors past my favorite food stalls. Go through a door and turn left, and you'll get to a large wholesaler of Korean toiletries. Take a certain overhead bridge, and you'll get to another part of Chinatown that will soon turn into the bars and restaurants of Clarke Quay.
Buns
People's Park.
Doors.
Wigs.
Cycling.
All photos taken on Nikon FE, 50mm f1.8 lens, Kodak Vision 3 500T, dev and scan by Whampoa Colour Centre, Singapore.
Between 2013 and 2018, I lived near the Mei Ling Street estate. I felt like if I was a housing estate, I would be Mei Ling Street. It's old and crumbly, but it's also got fantastic third wave coffee, one of the best cheese shops in Asia, and a few of my favourite hawker stalls (Sin Kee, Shi Hui Yuan, Ah Pang Seafood, Hui Wei Lor Mee). It's quiet and sleepy, on the surface, but full of interesting stuff if you know where to look!
A memory I will always treasure: the opportunities I've had to visit Tretes. Going to Tretes always means going on a short road trip with my best friend of 25 years. I remember listening to her describe her home to me, when we met as teenagers in Singapore, and dreaming about going there with her one day.
Indeed, we stayed friends, and I've visited. Many times. While I live ten thousand miles away now, Indonesia, especially East Java, will always have a special place in my heart.
This past weekend, we managed to get up to Tretes again. The trip was remarkably the same as every other time. Consistently delightful food and company. I am going to miss this. And everyone.
Absolutely delightful rawon, pecel and empal. Possibly one of my favorite restaurants in the world.
Sunlight trickling into the restaurant we usually stop at.
I don't know anyone who eats as much krupuk as I do. And it's the best in this part of the world.
Nasi rawon is my favorite dish in Indonesian cuisine. I can eat it a few times a day, every day. That I don't get (good versions of) it, or at all, abroad, is why I feel the need to really focus on my rawon time when I am in East Java.
Check out the view. You can't hear it, but there was also beautiful traditional / classical Javanese music streaming out of a school or home in the valley below. Culturally, this part of the world just speaks to my soul.
(All photos taken on Nikon FE, Kodak Gold 200, developed and scanned by Whampoa Colour Centre, Singapore)
One of my oldest friends in the world lives in Surabaya. I love visiting her. Not only is the food one of my favorite cuisines (East Java food is my favorite Indonesian regional food, and it can be hard to get abroad), the city is also a place I enjoy photographing. Eat, shoot, eat, shoot. That's basically all I do there.
This was my first time there with a film camera. I brought my trusty tiny Nikon FE with a 28mm f.28 lens, as well as a 50mm pancake f1.8 lens. That's really all I need on a vacation.
I even got the film sent off and developed at a local lab in Surabaya, which I was happy with.
Green.
Old.
Noodles.
No parking.
Rainbow.
I'm getting into the swing of things, shooting and developing film locally. Although I miss developing film since I'm so used to it, it's nice to see what services are available.
(All photos taken on Nikon FE with either 28mm or 50mm lens. All photos are Kodak Gold 200, dev and scan by Impossible Lab Surabaya)
I lived in the Prinsep Street / Bencoolen neighbourhood in the early / mid 2000s. I've always enjoyed the vibrant street life. It is close to everything I love: Little India, Arab Street, Sim Lim Square, Sim Lim Tower, Burlington Square, and more. From early morning till late night, there's always something fun to do and see here.
On my first full day back in Singapore today, I walked from Whampoa to Bencoolen then to Orchard Road. It felt like I got to see some of the same places and people (popped in to many of the film photography stores I used to frequent). As with everything else about this place, everything has changed. But Bencoolen Street is still the place of temples, synagogues, churches and street life that I remember it to be.
I even got my film developed and scanned in 3 hours (shout out to Triple D Minilab)!
Windows.
Temples and trucks.
Deities.
Prayers.
Great coffee.
Cats, swans, rabbits.
Heritage.
Googly eyes.
Green.
Objectifs, a non-profit arts space dedicated to film and photography.
It is only in my thirties that I have started to think this: growing up in a city-state where the 'capital of Singapore is Singapore' (from an Alfian Sa'at poem) is a unique experience not understood by many globally. That when nationalistic people in city-states say 'if you don't like it, leave', it's really about leaving your entire country behind. There is nowhere else to go.
So the idea that one can simply leave your city and find another one, is a way of thinking that has not really properly entered my mind. I have no sense of how large a country, or even a county can be. Back home, whenever I wanted a change of scene, I had to leave the country.
I spend some of my days in Alameda, a town accessible from San Francisco by ferry. Some people take the ferry to work. I've always found it quaint. It feels like the kind of small town America you might see on TV. I don't really see elements of this lifestyle (or urban setting) where I live in San Francisco. Some times, it's just nice to be able to be briefly away from what you know.
Birding at Elsie Roemer bird sanctuary.
Don't be deceived: beaches in Northern California look gorgeous, but the water is much too cold!
Textures.
Retro cars and homes.
Shoreline apartments.
Alameda has birds, food, coffee, and soon, good Singaporean food (at Mama Judy's), so I expect to be spending much more time there in the future.
All photos taken with Nikonos V, on Kodak 5222 film, developed in Rodinal 1:25 for 5:45 min, and scanned on Plustek 8200i.
The last time I was home in Singapore, I did one of my favorite alone activities: I walked a lot, and ended up in Little India. I did a 7km walk starting at sunset, and wound up there just in time for all kinds of fun. Since Mustafa Centre is 24 hours, and my favorite naan shop (Usman, along Desker Road) is open till 3 or 4, I am never in much of a hurry.
It was also mango season.
Mango season is my favorite season. And when that happens, I prefer to be in India or Singapore. (More on mangoes here)
The smell of jasmine flowers tells me there are devotees and a temple nearby. It also smells of home.
Mustafa Centre. How do I even describe how much I love it?
I would have loved this, if I was still into booze.
I've always loved this neighborhood the most because of all of the street life.
Once or twice a year, I try to go on a boat ride with some birders. I started birding as a joke ("I'm getting old I need an old person hobby!") but found that I love it. I especially love pelagic birds (and also shore birds, but to a lesser extent). Something about the raw power of the ocean and the ocean life in and around and above it really inspires me. The first time I went, I saw a feeding frenzy up close: of whales hunting, pushing fish up to the surface, different types of birds diving in and out of the water. It was majestic.
The Farallon Islands don't look too far from San Francisco on the map but it's many hours in treacherous waters. Many people throw up: for hours. I have never had motion sickness, so I was happy to tap on that life skill to try to take photos from the boat. It's hard when you're on a boat, harder when the waters are so incredibly choppy.
Anyway, here are some photos I loved from the trip back in July.
Sea lions on a buoy off Half Moon bay.
Tufted puffin bobbing about in the Pacific Ocean.
Active sea life in the Pacific Ocean.
The pure power of the ocean and the life in it.
Sea lion and pup in the rocks.
Sheer and overwhelming number of birds on the rocks and the waters around.
All photos taken with a Nikon D810 and 200-500mm lens.
Camping in the Sierras is a tradition in this region. The camps all work similarly: the recs and parks departments of those cities manage and operate these camps, which are also excellent places for youths to work summer jobs as they get free board and an hourly rate comparable to working in a restaurant. For outdoorsy youths it certainly seems like a dream, and I wish I had such a thing open to me as a teen. The camps are open to residents and non-residents, though non-residents will tend to pay a little more. The cities also have subsidized programs for lower income residents, and may also run special weeks for the elderly, for families, or for disabled children.
San Francisco's Camp Mather seems to be one of the most competitive ones to apply to. There's a lottery, and if you win it you get to go. On a whim, I applied to a lottery for a 3 person cabin and got it for late August. I went with my wife, and a friend.
The cabin was a reasonable size, with only space for a double and a single bed and a chest of drawers. Mosquito nets all over the windows and doors. Clean bathrooms and toilets a short (1 min) walk way. The camp was very well set up, with good facilities. There was a swimming pool and a gorgeous lake. There are activities for adults and children every single day and evening. There are on-site naturalists who have daily morning and evening walks to nearby spots. We went on one such walk, and found it fun and helpful: they knew the trails that were not widely known, and they'd each had decades of experience in that particular spot of Stanislaus National Forest (where Camp Mather is located) and the parts of Yosemite National Park that are near.
What you can expect: Hetch-Hetchy, the reservoir that provides water to San Francisco, is a short drive away and is gorgeous. Almost as gorgeous as parts of Yosemite National Park, but with far fewer tourists. Plan for a whole day in Yosemite Valley, which is easily accessible, if you haven't been. The kitchen can provide a packed lunch (various sandwiches and fruit) for your days out of camp. A coworker said 'Camp Mather is the only place where I can leave my children and have them entertained from morning to night, while I also get to do fun things on my own or with my spouse, and I just have my kids on a walkie-talkie and everyone has fun'.
Indeed, that was the vibe of the whole place. On the evenings we were there, adult programs included 'wine and paint night in the barn' and 'walk to see the superbloom of a giant flower'. Oh, there are also tennis courts, and lots of ping pong tables. Food was also good, and it's nice to be in an outdoorsy environment without having to manage your food supply!
Overall, I'm a fan.
View of the famous Yosemite peaks from Tunnel View.
Going out to spend time in nature is just a wondrous gift.
Our little cabin that was home for a few nights.
Every cabin has a bench like this in front of it. It's a good place to have a snack or just sit, as the cabin doesn't have much of a seating area.
Yosemite in the summer is extremely crowded. If you only have a day you might only be able to see the car-accessible spots in and around Yosemite Valley. But it is still wonderful. This is a photo of Lower Yosemite Falls. Not pictured: the hundreds of people below it.
All photos taken with Yashica Mat 124G, Kodak Portra 160, self-developed in Bellini C41 kit, and scanned on Fuji Frontier.
Some time around 2012/2013, I spent most of my time in Myanmar. The country was opening up: Aung San Suu Kyi was out, reform was in the air, Burmese students and exiles were coming home. There was a true spirit of hope and optimism. I was no longer a photographer or writer at that time, but I had developed a set of skills from my time in that world. I had become the person that tech companies sent to 'figure stuff out in new markets'. It was also a lucrative and exciting gig while that lasted. I did that for a couple of years.
My time being a 'fixer' for photographers and journalists around Southeast Asia also meant that I already knew people everywhere. I was not only okay with bureaucracy, I celebrated it. They just seemed like interesting puzzles to solve. Getting a photographer access to a person in a Bangladeshi village was more complex than getting a multinational company access to the top ten people they could hire, or finding them an office space in a booming market.
Somewhere in Mandalay.
Britney was everywhere.
Being close to Bengal, Myanmar and Kolkata always had strong links. Rangoon and Calcutta were, in the heyday, the Paris and London of the British empire in the east. Many Burmese people have Indian ancestry, and Burmese-Tamil, Burmese-Gujarati, Burmese-Bengali cultures are totally a thing. You see that in the people, food, language and historical landmarks too.
Fried total food. I love Burmese food.
My routine was to get in to Yangon on the early morning Jetstar flight from Singapore. I would land at Yangon airport, and head straight for Tin Tin Aye in Sanchaung for their famous mohinga. No one was allowed to schedule any meetings for me until I'd had mohinga.
When I think back to the life I led in my 20s, I will be forever grateful and amazed that I got to do the things that I did. How did I figure out how to travel around the world, eating, working, writing, taking photos? I don't think that life exists anymore. Not in the same way anyway. But I really milked it for what I could.
Right out of college, I was a freelance travel and food writer. I wrote about different parts of Southeast Asia. I wrote about chefs. I was interested in history, food culture, people. I still am. But the ways in which I led that life (writing for magazines with "Geographic" in their name, getting advances and payouts from travel guidebooks, selling photos to newspapers), don't and won't exist anymore.
So I continue to do those things, but with a day job.
While I was out on the road, my phone photos were an important 'B Roll'. Today I am sharing a selection of those photos in one place, for the first time.
Chennai was often my first port of call. Whenever I had work in India, I would fly first to Chennai. $100 one way from Singapore. Once there, I deeply explored the world of 'nonveg Tamil food', still one of my favorite cuisines anywhere. That love for Tamil Nadu country food was a love that nourished me and kept me happy. Brain masala, mutton sukka, deeply spiced seeraga samba biryanis. They also called this 'military food', and it was cuisine that was eaten in contrast to the totally vegetarian, 'cleaner' high caste food that I never developed a fondness for. Whenever in Chennai, I ate most at places like this.
Sri Velu was one place that I frequented for this type of food.
Roadtrips across India were a big part of my life. I went on long rides with friends, and one frequent trip was the road trip from Mumbai to Alibag. Vada pavs were mandatory, of course. Till this day, I still dream about the perfect little potato patties, with the right amount of spice, in a squishy white bread.
I spent most of my time in either Chennai or Mumbai. These are the two cities that, even today, if you were to drop me there and have me live there for months on end, I would be quite happy. My social circles and my favorite foods remain the same. Goan and all other coastal Konkani food is also a cuisine that I adore. In Mumbai, I frequently went to places like this, as well as to Gomantak or Malvani restaurants.
My happiest food memories are always whenever I get to get Tamil style biryanis. Orosorru in Chennai was a fave for a long time, but sadly they are no longer around.
One of the things I love about film photography is how it gives me a good sense of my exact feelings at precise moments in time. Depending on the film stock and camera I used, looking at old film photos takes me back in ways that I don't experience with other types of photos I have taken in the past.
I know, for example, from the low light and lack of sharpness in these first few photos that I was just beginning to learn about film photography, and that I frequently used film stock that was not 'right' for the light conditions.
I know from the photo of the bus stop that this is in 2004 exactly, because I have been taking a bus from this bus stop my entire life and can tell from the way the shelter and seats and ads are set up, that it was when I was heading to university. I also know that I was probably late (because no one is waiting here and it's way past rush hour, so I've definitely overslept, again.)
I can tell from this photo of a woman sitting outside a mosque in Little India, Singapore, that this was when I was experimenting with plastic, toy cameras. I came to this area very often for food, and often walked past this mosque.
I know from looking at this photo that it was in the early 00s. This wide open space no longer exists in Singapore. Every inch of open space now has several buildings on it. The tallest building in the background anchors me and lets me know exactly where I was when I took this photo: my cousins lived in that building.
This photo was taken with my first 'real' camera, which was a Nikon F-601 SLR. I used it to take photos on my first 'real' trip abroad, where I traveled to Thailand and Cambodia overland (by bus and taxi and train and motorbike). As part of that trip, I saw some atrocities (Cambodia has a horrible recent history, as demonstrated by the window of Tuol Sleng prison here). I also some great beauty.
Like the gorgeous architecture of the temples of Angkor.
Increasingly, I started to have more and more nice cameras and film things. I also got to go on more trips.
Taiwan was a firm favorite. It was so close, and always so fun. I miss it.
I even have a photographic record of my unfortunate couple of years where I dressed only in hippie pants and sandals. Here, a self-portrait in Melaka, Malaysia.
I feel so lucky to have been able to experience that part of the world and to have called it home, and that I always had my camera(s) with me.
Like so many people who still shoot film, I am now mostly rolling my own. Bulk loading, once you have the equipment, is really easy. I mostly buy bulk rolls of film stock that I can't get off the shelf, so that's a lot of Kodak 5222, Ektachrome, and also motion picture film.
You can get bulk rolls of many black and white film stocks easily; none for color, except for motion picture color film (I will write another post about how I learned to shoot and process this later on).
All of this has to be done in the dark.
At home, I use a dark changing bag. You really don't need a darkroom for most things unless you want to do prints.
I pop the back of the quick loader open, leaving the crank in. You won't be able to load the film unless you have this crank in. I learned the hard way.
Then, I remove the film from the packaging. If you buy bulk film, only do this in the dark. Shiny side up, I move the film into the recess very slightly, then use my left hand to tighten up the rest of the roll and make it fit in the back. The center of the bulk film roll sits on the spindle, like a roll of tape. Note that film will not advance past the recess unless you have the crank installed in the front.
Shut the back of the loader, screw it tight.
Take the loader out of the dark bag. You can use the bulk loader in daylight now. (It only needs to be in the dark when you are loading the bulk roll)
Remove the film advancer crank. Remove the spool part of a reusable film cassette (I use Kalt, but you can also use these). Cut some adhesive tape, and wrap around the spool. The pointy end of the spool should point towards the back of the film loader.
Pull out some film and stick the tape on the film to secure it. Grab the film cassette casing and gently slide it so that it encases the film and the spool. Note that this takes some practice: you essentially want to gently twist the film and spool to fit the slit of the casing. Sometimes this can be tough, but keep trying (gently). Screw in the cap to close the cassette.
Use the small film winder knob (next to crank) to move the spool into the bulk loader so it sits securely. Close the cover.
Set the counter to 0. Insert the crank. Holding the loader in one hand (I like to tilt it backwards with my left hand), turn the crank until it reaches the arrow. You want to add 4 or 5 extra frames from 36 (or however many frames of film you want per roll). Remove the crank. Open the cover. Use a pair of scissors to cut the film, pulling out enough to make a film leader.
Repeat.
You can get around 18 rolls per 100 ft roll, which brings the cost of Ilford HP5 down to $6.67. Retail price for that film is $9.49, so you can save almost $3 per roll of film. If you're shooting 20 rolls of film in a month like I sometimes do, you save $60.
I have one Bobinquick loader that always has black and white film, and I've got another Watson type loader that has some other film, usually color motion picture film or bulk slide film. I get these from a friend who orders in bulk from Kodak in 400ft, then respools into 100 ft and sends me a few; so that can be even cheaper than buying 100ft rolls directly from a photography retailer.
Hope this helps! In case you prefer manuals, I've also got scans:
When I was growing up in Singapore I loved going to Kampong Glam, the Arab quarter.
The British colonials divided the country's ethnic population into different sections, keeping the best and most central downtown location for themselves and for their buildings. Everybody else had to cram into their own ethnic 'ghettos' with varying degrees of sanitation, cleanliness and facilities.
The Arab population in Singapore largely came from the Yemeni city of Hadramaut as traders. Soon, they married the local population, and formed their own plural Southeast Asian Arab identities, but you can still see their hallmarks in the food, architecture, languages.
As a teenager and young adult I loved spending time in this neighborhood. It was a lot less sterile than the nice, clean parts of town that we loved to show off to the world. It had a soul. It still does, but these days its success (Haji Lane was recently named one of the most interesting districts in the world to visit) means it's changed a fair bit. I still enjoy meeting friends at the unnamed sarabat tea stall, I still have a bunch of fave spots that remain, thankfully, relatively unchanged.
Faith and fortune: a view of Sultan Mosque in Singapore's old Arab quarter. In the background, the eccentric Park View Square building that is also home to Atlas bar, one of the best gin bars in the world (and also where Thandie Newton and Vincent Cassel had a scene in Westworld Season 3). SE Asia has a significant Arab population, descendants of traders from Hadramaut in Yemen, esp. in Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia.
I'm interested in the contrast of eras, architecture, vibes. Also in how quickly all of this came up: just a decade ago I would be in this alley and I could have sworn that tall building, a hotel, did not exist at all, even as an idea.
More contrasts. In the foreground, some old shophouse buildings in the Arab quarter. In the background some modern buildings including I.M. Pei's Gateway building in the back left.
Like so many film photographers outraged by the cost of color film these days, I've thrown myself headlong into the world of shooting stills on motion picture film. Kodak Vision 3 films can be purchased in bulk, spooled into lengths that bulk rollers can use, and then self-rolled into canisters at your own leisure. Instead of the $12-18 per roll abomination of standard color films, you can get motion picture film for $10 a roll if you buy them pre-rolled online, and $5-8 per roll if you do it yourself.
The huge caveat if that you can't just send this film to any film lab. They have a layer of black carbon on the film, known as 'remjet', that requires special handling. While I previously bought and sent my motion picture film to a specialist, I decided that I wanted to learn how to do it myself.
There's very scant information about how to shoot and develop motion picture film. The best information I've found has been this Reddit thread, other comparison threads, and some historical information on Photrio. Like I do in most things, I dove head first into it and made a ton of mistakes. But now I know.
I know, for example, not to use a stiff sponge to remove the remjet at the end. I know now that baking soda alone is not sufficient; borax is better. My darkroom (i.e. my bathroom) is now full of photo chemicals. I have all kinds of bottles and funnels. I'm truly getting into my mess around and find out era, and it's super fun. I discovered I have as much of a passion for the ins and outs of photo developing, scanning and printing as I do for taking photos and telling stories. It's been the important balm for my soul: the art and science of doing something that engages my heart, eyes, hands and soul.
This was from the first roll of Kodak Vision 3 250D that I developed. I used baking soda only in this roll to remove the remjet. Then, I used a stiff sponge to remove the remaining remjet at the end and.. that ended up scratching the negatives. But I'm learning to appreciate that mistakes happen and it's fine and maybe even cool, since it imparts a strong sense of physicality to the digital realm: if you were to look for this negative a hundred years from now, it will still have these scratches. It will be unmistakably something that happened from my own hand, rather than rendered by stable diffusion.
So I will keep shooting motion picture film and keep developing them.
I love you too, California, San Francisco, and Green Apple books.
Bob's donuts. A landmark of San Francisco.
Donuts donuts donuts.
Mona Lisa, modernism, and scratches across the negative.
(All photos taken on Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II with Kodak Vision 3 250D film, self-dev in ECN-2 chemistry and scanned on Plustek 8200i)
To me, the best thing about living in the Bay Area is the easy access to all kinds of nature, by bike and by other means of transportation. You can put your bicycle on nearly every form of public transit (except Muni street car): all buses, almost all trains, and also by ferry. This makes bike-powered weekend trips a lot easier. Our hills are treacherous, and our beer is decent: sometimes you want to skip a hill or roll down one. Put your bike on a ferry, bus, train.
Recently, I did one such trip with a friend where we boarded a ferry to Larkspur and then a train to Petaluma. While I find it easier to just cycle across the Golden Gate Bridge and get in the miles, on days where I want longer rides, I'm thankful to these multi-modal options on easier days when I just want to take it slow but still be further from home, on a bike.
I also recently came into the possession of a Nikonos V. The seller was very apologetic that its meter wasn't working, and that its O-rings needed work before it can be a truly amphibious camera again: but I was not, for I managed to own a Nikonos V for $50 instead of $500. Although it looks like a toy camera, it is one of the most ergonomic and user friendly cameras I have ever used. It puts a modern GoPro to shame. You can even scuba dive with it (after getting the O-rings serviced).
As someone who enjoys manual metering, I am not afraid of film cameras without batteries and meters. The camera is perfect on land as well as in water. I quite like the heft of it: I think it will be my standard biking and camping camera. I have no worries at all about rolling into a pile of dirt, or falling into water. The 35mm f2.5 lens it came with is also very capable.
View of San Francisco from the ferry.
A person looking at Alcatraz from the ferry.
People on a boat near the Bay Bridge.
On the Larkspur ferry, the bike holding area is on the deck, which makes it fun and easy to look at the view while also being able to keep an eye on your bike.
There was a large Falungong rally at the Ferry Building in San Francisco on that day. The Nikonos IV is a capable land documentary camera as well as underwater camera, too.
All photos taken with Nikonos V, 35mm f2.5 lens, Fuji Superia 400, self-developed in Cinestill C41 kit, and scanned on Plustek 8200i.
Last Friday, I had the unfortunate honor of experiencing (yet another) race-related incident in San Francisco. A mentally unwell person pointed a kitchen blow torch at me, with the flame out, and threatened to 'burn me' because I was an 'ugly Chinese ho'. I laughed it off, but I guess she was serious, and then she started pointing that thing at my dog and also calling her an ugly Chinese ho (???). Thankfully, I was able to leave as my bus arrived quickly.
I took the day off to decompress. This situation came hot on the heels of some conversations that my wife and I have been having: what is home? Where is it? What does it mean for us to build a home together? I decided to take a long walk through San Francisco. I needed to remember why I came here, and why this city is still, despite its many, many warts, a home I see us living in for the long haul.
I got coffee, met friends and family for dim sum, pet many dogs. I looked at the bay; I breathed in and out. While the city's beauty cannot make up for some of the ugliness that one experiences as a result of bigotry, I am reminded of how, on balance, I have had a largely good time here; I have experienced a lot of love and support, especially at moments like these; and I have the space to participate in activism to push back precisely on this sort of thing.
At the end of the day, I come back to my maybe slightly nihilistic view that there are no good countries. My wife experiences everyday racism in Singapore, that felt like it was worsening towards the end of her decade there; that, plus the fact that my home country doesn't recognize our marriage, are among the many reasons we don't live there anymore. A country where we are both outsiders, where we have the ability to participate fully in the building of a society that we want to be a part of, feels, at this point, like where we want to be in spite of the other BS that it comes with.
All photos taken on Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, Kentmere 400, self dev in Rodinal 1:50 and scanned on Plustek 8200i
I'm not actually a very handy person. It's amazing that I am able to load film at all in a change bag, into a reel, into a tank, and then get pictures out of it. Anyway, this was the first ever medium format color film that I developed myself at home: clearly, I put too little chemistry. I still like the pictures, and I like that I'm now able to post stuff like this instead of being a perfectionist.
Part of the reason I shoot film and develop it myself is really to learn, and you don't learn without making mistakes.
Anyway, some photos from Drag Up, Fight Back rally: all photos shot on Fuji GW690II, some kind of Portra (400?), developed in Cinestill C41 kit, and scanned on an Imacon Flextight 848 scanner.
Fuji Superia 400 has been my stock color film for a long time. I have 10 rolls left, and when that's gone it doesn't look like I'll be able to find it easily anymore. It was my favorite 'buy it at a drugstore' film, but now that I can't buy it easily, I don't think I will put in the effort to source it. For color, I will probably switch to Ektar and Kodak Vision 3 250D or 500T. Or some combination of all of that.
Until then, some photos celebrating Fuji Superia 400.
I like Fuji's colors with neon lights, especially reds. (Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, handheld)
A friend came to town and invited me to an epic dinner. (Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, handheld)
The next day, I had a delicious tasting menu at Ox + Tiger, a Filipino-Japanese restaurant in San Francisco. (Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, handheld)
View of the San Francisco skyline from Yerba Buena island. (Rollei QZ 35T)
The greens and blues of San Francisco bay. (Rollei QZ 35T)
Almost 50 years ago, a drag queen named Tessie started feeding the homeless in the Tenderloin and so many decades later the tradition continues. I was grateful to be able to volunteer this past Easter at one of the Tenderloin Tessie events.
Every Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas, the organization puts out a massive event feeding hot food to anyone who needs it. Not everyone who came was homeless, all who wanted a hot meal were welcome. Many immigrant families also came and I think, the opportunity to feed your entire family good food and have fun entertainment is always welcome, regardless of your financial situation.
I was very impressed with the values that the organizers imparted to the volunteers. Treat everyone with respect, seat them at the table, provide table service, make sure that people have what they need and that they go home with things that will help.
The line started on the street, on Geary and Franklin.
There were also free haircuts to be had.
There was also free clothing, very neatly organized by gender and size.
The venue was wonderful and light-filled.
We also handed out gift bags with some essential items.
It's a wonderful initiative. I'm going to keep going back to volunteer when I can.
All photos taken on Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II with Fuji Superia 400, self developed with Cinestill C41 kit. Scanned with Plustek 8200i and Negative Lab Pro.
I had a drag-filled weekend that was full of trans joy. For that, I am grateful.
On Saturday, I went to the Drag Up, Fight Back march for drag and trans rights. Unless you've been living under a rock, trans people are under attack all over the world including in many parts of the US. California is not immune. It would be silly complacency to assume that because we are in San Francisco, things are going to be fine. In fact, a Republican in Riverside, CA, has just sponsored AB 1314 which would require educators to inform parents if their kids are trans. I hope I don't have to tell you how harmful that will be to trans people, and how that's just the start of more anti-trans legislation wrapped up in the supposed just-asking-questions 'concern' of 'children'. If they truly cared about the children, they would support an environment where all children, including queer and trans children, don't have to live in fear, where they can be who they are without being used as a political prop.
So we march.
I met a few other film photography enthusiasts!
Lots of people were being interviewed by all sorts of journalists.
Stop the joy destroyers, indeed!
Cistem of a down.
So much joy. Especially compared to the lone, sad, and hateful anti-trans protestor across the street who nobody could hear or care about. He had a Repent or Perish sign! Very stylish. But not as stylish as these folks on the right side of the protest.
Drag IS Joy.
All photos taken on Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, Kodak 5222 film, developed in Rodinal 1:50 and scanned on Plustek 8200i
One of the interesting things about living near City Hall is I never know what I'm going to walk into. Some days it's a protest about the declining state of trans rights in this country. Or one by the Burmese or Iranian communities to try to raise awareness of the issues at home.
Other days it's an Irish festival that somehow has large representation from law enforcement. (For more information about the impact of the Irish in San Francisco law enforcement, read Season of the Witch.) I had my black and white film camera out, but I also had a roll of Kodak Vision 3 500T film in my rangefinder camera that I got processed and scanned much later.
I was interested in the parade and curious to know how it would proceed in the rain; though like many other observers, I kept a distance from it. I come from a country where protest isn't allowed (except in a very specific park with strict rules requiring pre-approval), so I am always going to be photographing and gawking at any protests, and parades (which also require pre-approval where I come from), I think, even if I might not agree with all of them.
Tomorrow, I'm going to go to a rally for trans rights. It's cool that I can just stroll over to show my support for things like that.
The entire street was closed.
San Francisco is the hub of the Irish diaspora in the West Coast. The police force has also been a favored profession for that community.
Classic cars are my thing.
Rainy days are here again.
I really like the colors on the motion picture film. This photo would not be as interesting on regular color film!
All photos taken on Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, with Kodak Vision 3 500T, processed and scanned by Eureka Film Lab.
I have a problem: I tend to be a perfectionist. Sometimes, when something doesn't turn out well I get so annoyed that I don't touch it again forever. Or for a long time. (Recently, I learned that people with autism and ADHD like me have severe 'rejection sensitivity'). Being mindful of this, I'm trying to actively embrace mistakes.
So when I pulled out my film and found many 'spots' on my photos I decided to embrace that mistake, too. I had left a small amount of Photoflo in a container that I also used to stir my Ilfosol film developer. After developing, I noticed that my solution was bubbly. For some reason the detergent bubbles only showed up on one reel of film and not the other. In fact, it lent an interesting visual effect to some of the photos.
Dinner the other day.
Surprised at how well Kodak 5222 performs in low light indoors.
I've been delighted to see more street food vendors in the Mission these days, especially on Friday nights outside very busy nightlife spots. From this lady I also had a delicious, freshly made pupusa with pork, beans and cheese. She was shaping the masa to order when you ordered one. Or twelve.
I think I can eat four of them at once.
More bubbles. Thankfully, they only impacted less than 20% of the photos.
All film shot on Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, on Kodak 5222 film, developed in Ilfosol 1:9 for 7:45 min, scanned on Plustek 8200i.
Recently, I had an opportunity to purchase a few rolls of Kodak Vision 3 500T Film (5219). I was warned that it would be almost too 'cool', that it had tones of blue in most photos unless I used a warming filter, or fixed it in post.
While my style of color photography tends to be vibrant and warm (Portra and Ektar are favorite film stocks), I wanted to try something new.
I went out shooting photos of San Francisco at dusk, and also in the midst of our poor weather (on the days when it rained ceaselessly). I think that if you know its quirks, you can get a lot out of it. I really like this look and am excited to try other motion picture film stock (I have a 50ft roll of Vision 250D film I'm going to bulk roll myself).
Shooting motion picture film is an interesting premise for a film stills photographer: you can buy it in bulk! It's affordable! And has very interesting look and film somewhat reminiscent of many of the movies we know and love (500T was used to shoot parts of Euphoria, among other TV shows and movies). The main downside is that regular labs don't process motion picture film. It has a black layer of 'remjet' at the back that can lead to damage of commercial labs' equipment. What you want to do is look for someone who does ECN-2 developing (there are several), or do it yourself with an ECN-2 kit.
Also, it never fails to amuse me that people think San Francisco is a really modern-looking big city: to me, it's a small town trapped in time, where buildings and entire neighborhoods (except the downtown area) look more or less the same as it did when hippies were running around naked in these areas.
No parking at any time.
A church in blue and pink and cloud.
Victorians in this neighborhood seem to like blue and white a lot.
And purple.
Retro blues.
Pink and yellow.
All photos taken on Minolta Hi-Matic, Kodak Vision 3 500T film, developed and scanned by Eureka Film Lab.
I used to be a creature of the night, but no longer. I used to be out all the time, but rarely now. Partly, it's that San Francisco is so chilly at night, but also that it's pretty dead at night compared to the much bigger cities I've lived in. I don't quite enjoy walking around, cold, in areas where there just sijmply isn't that much going on at all. For my wife's birthday, we went out to dinner in the Mission and I also brought my Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II. It's fast becoming one of the cameras I use the most: its f1.7 lens, combined with the small form factor and weight, makes it easy for me to pop it into my jacket pocket. It works really well indoors at night, too, with black and white film (and a steady hand.. or an elbow firmly on a table or chair or door, which is my style. I dislike tripods).
Here are some shots on Kentmere 400, pushed to 800 in Ilfosol 3 (1:9). I really like the combination of this film and this camera, and my self dev setup at home these days. Scanned on Noritsu LS-600.
The outdoor space at Blue Plate is quite lovely. So is the key lime pie there.
I love neon signs. I also love that I was professionally involved in getting these 'parklets' up early pandemic: my team at sf.gov helped get a joint permitting process out quickly to help businesses move their business outdoors.
Alamo Drafthouse in the Mission.
Street tacos are the best tacos. There was a lot of light from one side from the street lamps, but I quite enjoy the effect it casts on the photo.
I am starting to feel more confident about bulk-rolling black and white film and developing it at home. Other than the cost savings, it's the immediacy that I love: I can roll a 24 exposure cassette in black and white, shoot it in an hour, and come back and process it immediately and see it shortly after through a scanner or light table.
Join me on a walk around Lower Polk, a neighborhood directly adjacent to mine. I spend a lot of time here because it has the grocery stores and other shops that I go to the most. I rarely need to take a bus or car anywhere else because I get everything in the Tenderloin and Lower Polk, as well as in and around Nob Hill.
A sign of the times.
I feel lucky to be able to walk to a world class film photography store, Glass Key Photo. They have everything I need, and more.
RIP, Harvey Milk. Thanks for everything you have done for this city.
Hi-Lo has great drinks. Back when I still imbibed. These days, I just like the neon signs of these bars.
Count the rubber duckies.
Sutter St is home to a mosque frequented by the Yemeni community in the area.
This part of San Francisco has a strong link to Frank Norris, the anti-Semitic author. A bar in Lower Polk is named after one of his novels, McTeague.
All photos taken on Leica M3, 50mm Summilux, bulkrolled Kentmere Pan 400. Self developed in Ilfosol 3 (1+9) for 7 minutes, and scanned with Plustek 8200i.
In 2007, I moved to the United Arab Emirates for my first full time job out of college. I was working at a publisher that specialized in trade magazines. I worked mainly on travel titles, as a deputy editor and also staff photographer. It was a pretty good life (tax-free, high salaries, lots of adventure).
It was not a long term place for me to be in because, well, I'm queer. My long term partner at the time lived in London: it was reasonably easy to go see her, and we also fancied meeting 'in the middle' (Istanbul was a fave).
It was an incredibly lonely time. While I met some lovely people, Dubai and I didn't quite get along. I had some wonderful memories of the people and places I got to see, and it was a launch pad for me to go to all of the other places in that region that I adore. I got to see places like Syria, Lebanon, Yemen, pretty much because they were there, and I could get there for a hundred bucks or less (Middle Eastern budget airlines were my best friends).
It was a weird time. When I got there, Dubai (and many global economies) were booming. A few months later, once we got into 2008, it became a ghost town in some parts. Some of those countries I visited regularly soon plunged into civil war and other turmoil. I hope that I can visit Syria and Yemen again one day in better times. It's awful what's happened to those societies and countries. Truly the most remarkable countries I've been to in so many ways.
I had a reasonably charmed life as a privileged Dubai expat with a powerful passport who got to travel anywhere on the weekends (which were Friday and Saturday!). It was just as easy to get to Europe as it was to get to South Asia, and also to the countries in the region, and I rode that wave for the whole time I was there. Outside of my day job as a staff photographer, I was also writing and taking photos for an assortment of travel magazines and newspapers in India, Singapore, Thailand and the Middle East. When the financial crisis came all of that work dried up, which is also partly why I stopped working in the field.
Still, I got to see so much and do so much, all at the age of 22.
I lived and worked in one of the newer parts of Dubai near Media City that were still under active construction. It was a weird time. There was no train then, and sometimes literally no roads to cycle on. In hindsight, I should have lived in the old city, which I much preferred for culture and food and people. That part of Dubai was, at that time, very alienating if you were not the right type of expat.
I tagged along on a camping trip to Oman one weekend with a bunch of architects. It was beautiful, but I don't know if I'll recommend peeing in the desert for women (it steams your butt).
I LOVE CAMELS. Always have, always will.
Dubai, like Singapore, is a cleaned city: cleaned by other people. Also built by other people. The reliance of these city states on foreign labor, especially from South Asia, and the propensity to severely mistreat them with poor labor practices and living conditions, is appalling. Being there opened my eyes to similar practices back home in Singapore and Malaysia. Later, I would work in migrant worker advocacy in those countries.
I am glad I did what I did at the time, but that's probably not a life choice I would make again. In my 30s, I am less accepting of living in environments where I cannot be openly gay, or be able to advocate politically in that space. However, that experience showed me a slice of the world that I deeply love, and also helped to imbue a certain amount of cultural understanding about some of the challenges in that region. When you know a place beyond the politics, and have met, dined with, and lived with the people, it's hard to see them as just passive figures in newspaper reports.
All photos taken on Canon 350D. Or 50D? One of those.
Look up any travel information for San Francisco and 'helpful' people will tell you: avoid the Tenderloin! It's not safe! There's lots of.. stuff we don't like!
Well, I live there. By choice. I won't downplay the issues we face here: the living conditions on the streets are dire. They are maybe comparable to some other places in the world when you think of 'squalor'. It's not befitting of one of the richest cities, in one of the richest countries, in the world. But the squalor is there for a reason (historical and other neglect). There are few effective ways to 'improve' it (short of building more housing and providing more services), and certainly few that I personally support. I do not want to put more people behind bars simply for being so poor they no longer have a home. At the same time, many Tenderloin-dislikers have disingenuous reasons for singling out this neighborhood. We have different politics. Beyond politics, a fundamental disagreement about how we should treat people without homes.
Personally, I enjoy this neighborhood's diversity and density. I have never lived somewhere less dense; the TL was literally the only place in the city that felt like home (in terms of taller buildings, and no of people). I don't do well in the suburbs. I struggle mentally and emotionally with the suburbs. I am happy being among people. And buildings. And great food.
Sun set in the Civic Center area of San Francisco
This part of the city is full of historical hotels like these. Some of these are now student housing, others are homeless support housing. Others are still rented out by the day. The conditions are not always acceptable.
I have never lived too far from transit. So being in this neighborhood is great because I can go anywhere by transit, if I am not biking. Light streaks and dust on negatives on this frame, but I quite like the character it imparts.
I have not always been confident about taking film photos at night. But in rolling my own bulk film (Kentmere Pan 400) and developing and scanning at home, I feel a little more confident about it since it costs less, and I can see the results faster. These photos were taken with a Minolta Hi-Matic 7S II, with Kentmere 400, developed in D76 1:1 for 14 minutes, and scanned on a Noritsu LS-600.
While my primary mode of transportation in San Francisco is my bike, I do find myself enjoying the varied modes of transit here as well. They are especially useful during the rain: it has been pouring, for days at a time, during the 'atmospheric rivers' that we are currently facing in California.
When that happens, I don't love being on my bike. Not only are roads slick, but drivers are also worse than they usually are (and they are usually awful).
The train I take the most is the N.
There are so many transit systems and agencies here that it took me a while to learn all of them. I wish someone had told me at the start, when I was a tourist, that the 'tram' is a 'train' (trains were only subways to me) or a 'streetcar', and that they all have letters; whereas Muni local buses have numbers, like 38, 49, 5.
View of an underground station from inside the N.
These days, I most frequently take the N to get to the Harvey Milk Photo Center.
The Harvey Milk Photo Center is a darkroom and photo center run by the city of San Francisco. It is also one of the largest darkrooms in the west coast of the United States. The darkroom has something like 30 different enlargers; they also have a cool set up where you can go in, as a member, to enlarge and develop prints, and they take care of the chemicals and wash for you. I took a few lessons there this past month, and love going there to learn and to spend time with like-minded photography enthusiasts.
Since this roll of film was also developed and scanned on my own, I feel like I have made some large leaps where film skills are concerned: going to HPMC has been a large part of that journey.
All photos taken on Olympus XA2, Tri-X 400, developed in D76 1:1, scanned with a Noritsu LS-600 and edited for dust and contrast.
I love running or biking towards the Golden Gate Bridge. I come here far more than I go to Golden Gate Park (which many of my friends prefer). They're both the same distance, but I come here more because as an island girl I need to see the ocean. (Also, I don't have to go uphill too much)
Recently, I caught Covid-19 after three and a half years of avoiding it. Once I felt better, I had to come here again: I grabbed my medium format camera and some Portra and headed to Crissy Fields / Presidio.
Depending on my mood, and how much time I have, I either stop right at the marina and head back, or I do the whole stretch to Fort Point (under the bridge) and back. Or, I might take a detour into the Presidio if I want to do a trail run, or visit friends who live there.
Sometimes I take the 22 from here and head to Japantown to get groceries. Or I head back to Van Ness and take the 49 BRT, which I love. (So much faster along upper Van Ness these days, with the rapid bus lanes)
I never get bored of this place, rain or shine.
Boats in the marina.
Fort Mason from behind some plants.
Sunset over Golden Gate Bridge, tiny kite in the sky.
All photos taken on Fuji GW690II, probably Portra 800, and processed by Robert over at Brooktree.
Some photos from the first roll of film I developed and scanned myself.
I have been wanting to learn how to dev and scan for many years now. The sheer number of items and chemicals to procure left me dizzy, and I never did. I'm lucky to be near the city-run community darkroom and photo center, Harvey Milk Photo Center. For a reasonable price ($193 for 6 months, you can have unlimited access to the developing chemicals, equipment, and darkroom and digital lab.
While walking to a black and white film development class, I came upon the St Patrick's Day parade that the mayor of Cork and the mayor of San Francisco took part in. I took some photos, and less than an hour later (including transportation to the darkroom, and learning how to load film into reels for developing.. challenging for a person like me with dexterity issues), I was able to see how the photos turned out, on a light table.
It took some more time to scan. I am still figuring out my dev and scan workflow, and will keep trying different things until I find something I feel I can stick with.
The mayor of Cork, Ireland, was visiting San Francisco and took part in the 2023 St Patrick's Day parade.
Many people participated, in spite of the weather (the 10th or 11th atmospheric river event in San Francisco!)
Rain or shine.
All photos taken on Olympus XA2 and Tri-X 400, developed in Kodak D76 1:1 for 9 min 45 seconds, and scanned on Nikon LS-40.
I have been away from 'home' full time for almost five years now. Even though I've lived in other countries in the past, I never stopped seeing Singapore as 'home'. 'Home' was where my family, childhood home, friends, food, favorite places, and memories were. I was afloat, in that I was quite literally all over the world, but I was rooted. Every once in a while I floated my way 'home'.
This time it's different. I've built a home elsewhere, in San Francisco, with my wife. We have a life here. We have two senior pets, who we love very much. Our home, in the literal sense, is a comfortable apartment in the center of San Francisco. It is perhaps one of the first 'homes' my wife has had, but I am feeling.. no, struggling, with the idea that I never quite got to say goodbye to my 'home'.
For Singaporeans abroad, it usually means home in a literal sense shifts from under your feet. Our little island city state country where the capital of Singapore is Singapore moves on and on without you. Buildings change. Entire neighborhoods emerge. Two new train lines appear, like mushrooms after the rains. You needn't even have been gone for very long. It just happens. That's how it is. (I've examined this many, many times in the past, with no conclusion.)
The neighborhood I ran around in as a child, after Sunday school, and as an adult, as I lived there, is now gone. Most of it, anyway. They moved most people out of Tanglin Halt, the neighborhood that was home to Singapore's first high rise public housing apartments, to build even taller ones. Even today, you can get into a cab and tell the driver (of any ethnicity) that you want to go to zap lau (ten floors, in Hokkien) and they know exactly where to take you. To Tanglin Halt, the site of Singapore's very first ten story tall public housing buildings.
Tanglin Halt food stalls I have been eating at since I was a child.
My favorite old school Chinese bakery with the best donuts and Hai Lam bread is gone.
A friend of mine lived in a newer building in Tanglin Halt. On the 25th floor. We went to that house in May. When we visited again in October, he had moved down the street to another neighborhood with even taller buildings. He now lives on the 40th floor.
This is the neighborhood I lived in since I was born. While I was away, my parents moved to the 25th floor of brand new public housing apartments 7 minutes away, right next to the train station. It was their wish to be close to a mall and a train station in their old age so they don't feel too isolated as they get older. In October, I said bye to the home and the neighborhood knowing I will probably rarely go there again. Which is a weird thought, since it was all I'd known as 'home'.
I noticed things I never did when I actually lived there. Like all of the plants in front of my 'block'.
The view from my mum's old kitchen. The metal stuff sticking out of the kitchen window is a laundry pole holder. We put our clothes on bamboo sticks, then stick the stick into the laundry pole holder, and air dry clothes that way. The traditional way. Nicer than a dryer.
My apartment overlooked a bad mall. But it was where I went to spend all my money at the arcade (Time Crisis 2, I still resent you); meet dates, grab food, shop for groceries. It was my bad mall. I don't think I will miss it. But it will be weird to not longer have it in my life.
Farewell, West Coast Plaza.
I am frequently traipsing around in the green bits of Singapore. There's quite a lot of it, actually. Many of the 'wilder' bits I used to walk around in for fun, now have names and signs and sometimes, buildings. Like the Green Corridor. I liked the tropical forest. I even lived in one for a while.
Some trees near Queensway. View from the road. I lived in an old house deep inside, which could be accessed via a shortcut through this bit of green. They're building on it now.
I like the trees so much, I even had my wedding photos taken there. These were the former railway tracks to Malaysia.
In the end, I'm just but a small cog in the wheel that is Singapore, that keeps turning. My memories and my life there fade every year. It's the same, but different (for me). When we took that photo in our wedding whites at the train tracks in Bukit Timah, we were about to move to the United States. I guess intellectually I knew what was going to happen. But emotionally? I was never ready. Maybe I still am not.
Wet markets have a bad reputation, because of the 'rona, but their name really just comes from being the opposite of a 'dry market' (like a market that sells pots and pans and such). They are very common in many parts of Asia and don't have wildlife. For many of us, a wet market is our first port of call to make the delicious foods from our part of the world.
These photos are from a wet market in Taiping, Perak, my wife's hometown. We visited with my mother-in-law and her sister, who were preparing a large family feast for the first reunion in the Taiping home in a very, very long time.
Eggs
Salted fish
Essential items
Aromatics
Potatoes
Sambal
I can still taste that sambal. What passes for sambal in the United States (Huy Fong sambal oelek!!) makes me so, so sad.
Lately, I've been thinking about how growing up in Peninsular Malaysia and Singapore (and spending lots of time in Thailand, Indonesia, India) really spoiled me where food is concerned.
The food ways I am used to: buying fresh food. On a daily basis. At wet markets. Learning to cook traditional foods from skilled older people from different cultures.
All of those things are vastly different from a convenience-first food culture where I now live in the United States. Even though California, and San Francisco in particular, has a reputation for being farm to table, and for having good quality food, I do find myself feeling, quite often, like I never knew how good I had it until I left Southeast Asia. California is good, for food: my part of the world is better. That's how I feel, anyway. Being able to wake up in any of those countries and grabbing one of many hot breakfasts. Being able to eat hot, savory, spicy food all day, everyday, including at 3 or 5 in the morning. Being spoiled silly, really, by aunties of all types. Being surrounded by people who want to feed you all day, every single day.
Taiping, Perak in Malaysia is one of my favorite little towns. It has beautiful weather and scenery, an interesting history, and some of the best food I've had anywhere. I dreamed of the simple bowls of noodle soups I've had there (Restoran Kakak!!!), for years, until I went back again in 2022 to visit my wife's family. You've not had noodles until you've had the kway teow tng at Restoran Kakak. It takes skill, and really 'giving a damn' to make food like that. I think Taiping (and Perak as a whole) has a higher density of people who 'give a damn (about making food in a very specific way)'. And that's just normal, there.
I was always a big city person. I liked nature, but not excessively. Now that I'm almost 5 years into being a Californian, that's starting to change. I don't just like the outdoors, I love it. I survived (and thrived) at a five day backcountry Yosemite backpacking trip with no toilets or showers. I scaled Half Dome. I go bikecamping a few times a year.
Shot on Fuji GW690II on Portra 800, developed and scanned by Underdog Film Lab
That's one of the joys of living in Northern California, and in being in San Francisco specifically. I can bike to the Golden Gate Bridge in 20 minutes or so, and cross it in the same time (I don't bike very fast). Across the bridge, I can go west to the Marin Headlands or straight into the small towns of Sausalito, Mill Valley, or as far as San Rafael or San Anselmo where I have some favorite spots for food and snacks; and in some areas, set up camp if I want.
I'm thankful to have the opportunity to experience this, and to have found a bunch of folks who will come experience all of this with me.
Daido Moriyama is one of the photographers I admire the most. His work (black and white street photography) is an influence on the kind of work I am trying to do in my photography; and his shooting style most resonates with me. He is known to mostly shoot with compact cameras, especially the Ricoh GR series.
This photography book is unique in that it isn’t just a book of his published photos centered around a theme. Sometimes, I get quite bored of those types of books: Western photographers who go to India, for example, and shoot hundred page photo books that feel vaguely exploitative and white-gazey, are an example of the types of photography I very much dislike.
Since I know Asia, and Asian cities quite well, I have a finely tuned nose for that sort of thing. I don’t find Asia exotic because, well, I am from there. So I tend to look to the Japanese, Chinese, Indian, Bangladeshi photographers I admire whose body of work situates them within places they work in, where, they have frankly far more interesting things to say. (Dayanita Singh’s photography, for example, does not need to rely on that pop and shock of India’s color or festivals or ‘weirdness’ to make a point: her long term work embedded in local communities tell me so much more about the place than, “India is so strange and exotic!”)
So it is with Daido Moriyama. There’s no mistaking a Daido Moriyama photograph for someone else’s. No matter where he’s shooting, whether it’s Japan or Argentina. If there is a photographer whose ‘personal vision and style’ I want to learn most, it is his.
This book is written by his collaborator, a Japanese author and photographer who shadowed Moriyama on several trips, all the while asking: what advice do you have? What are you thinking? What message are you trying to make?
And all Moriyama says is:
Just go out and shoot
Shoot as much as you can (he believes in having quantity as a way to get quality photos)
He walks up and down a street both ways and he takes about a roll of film per direction
He thinks there is value in observing the mundane
Some basic tips, like ‘if you shoot a body of water against the light, the contrast is quite nice especially in black and white’ but he refuses to believe there are any specific tips that are applicable to all
He cares about doing the work more than talking about the technique or gear
The book also says that he teaches sometimes, and many of his students are trying to break into fashion or avant garde photography. For those students, he advises that the work is the same as that of someone trying to do photojournalism or documentary photography. Go out and shoot mundane things. Find a building, take a hundred photos of it. Learning to see beauty in the mundane is the most important skill one can develop.
Each part of the book is based in a certain location. So when he goes to Ginza, for example, there is a photo of the contact sheet that he shot. It was actually nice to see that a master has a ton of duds, too. Not that he ever pretended otherwise: but it was still assuring to know that Daido Moriyama isn’t getting 36 book or exhibition worthy photos out of every roll of 36.
Lastly, he advises that the most important thing to do when you take a photograph is that you must have a desire to make that photograph. Not necessarily to tell a story or make a point (in fact, he says that arriving somewhere and having a pre-conceived idea of the location or community’s politics or social message is not a good way to take photos, that he prefers to just witness). But that you must feel that you have to take that photo.
Moriyama also has a lot of things to say about film vs digital. He’s gone digital now, and there’s no going back! Having used both the Ricoh GR film and digital cameras, and also being agnostic to the film vs digital debates (currently, I am shooting more film to learn the darkroom arts specifically, but if I were to go back to working again as a photographer, it would probably make more sense to be digital-first, especially given film costs these days), I think he’s right. The Ricoh GR digital cameras are extremely capable, and they are my favorite film cameras. I do miss the contrasty T-Max grain and quality of his earlier work, but artists are allowed to evolve their vision and tools, and experiment. I appreciate this non-dogmatic quality about Moriyama.
I would highly recommend this book even if you don’t love this type of street photography. It’s a good way to get an insight into how a great photographer works and thinks, beyond gear talk and such. The world has too much of the latter; but books like these are what I appreciate much, much more.
San Francisco's Chinatown is one of the oldest ones in the United States. Chinese people, mostly from the "Sze Yap" region of Toishan and surrounding areas, came to northern California almost two centuries ago. They were boxed in in certain areas, within cities and regions, both in the city and outside it.
As a much more privileged ethnic Chinese immigrant to this country who came with far more money, a better passport, I have it a lot easier, of course.
But that doesn't mean I don't feel the occasional challenges of living here at a time of increased anti-Asian hate. I've had far less of a problem living in California than in parts of Europe, Australia, but there are some among of us who never miss a moment to let others know that they are not welcome.
In the shadow of the Transamerica Pyramid, Chinatown stands with its lower rise buildings from an earlier time. The Financial District to one side, the Italian community of North Beach to another. Borders real and imagined are continually defined here. Some decades ago, a minority within a minority resided on the edges of Chinatown and the Financial District, not far from here.
Manilatown was in Chinatown, San Francisco, until one day it was no more. It was the site of a fierce battle between those who wanted to build high rise buildings, and those who wanted to keep a home for the 'Manong Generation', the Filipino men who came here, were discriminated in many ways (they were not allowed to bring their families), who then aged out. It was said that they were not welcome outside the borders of Manilatown, for a long time. So this was literally a refuge and a home away from home for them.
I'm reminded that borders are defined not only in maps, but also in minds. Walking away from Chinatown and into the Financial District, when I see signs for 'French Laundry', I'm also reminded of how, not too long ago, that was thinly veiled code for 'no Asians', but now it's just one of the most famous restaurants in the world. California is weird like that. Everyone tells you you are welcome, until you're not, but until then you're free to build your community, until you're not. For what it's worth, it's now home.
I am now 8000 miles from home but I am anchored by this Vietnamese Teochew noodle house near me. People speak to me in this language on the streets. My dog has a Teochew name. I speak it with my neighbors. On days when I am extremely homesick, I come here and order what I always ate with my grandparents, almost ten thousand kilometres away: dua kway teow tah, mai tau geh, keh ark tui.
(干捞大粿条 / 不要豆芽 / 加鸭腿 / wide rice noodles, soup on the side, no bean sprouts, add a braised duck leg)
The roasted chilli oil (not sriracha), and the soup on the side, makes it especially close to some early childhood memories.
I was especially close to my paternal grandparents, and they were my link to that culture. I felt especially thankful that I got to form these ties with them, the land they came from, and the language they spoke, in ways that many of my peers did not. By the time I was in kindergarten, I realized I was one of the few people of my generation who were able to communicate fluently with them in their first language. The political and education system in Singapore had sought to destroy all ties to non-Mandarin Chinese languages around the time I was growing up. They were largely successful: today, I speak more Teochew on the streets of the Tenderloin in San Francisco, and even more of it in Bangkok, or in Paris, than I do in Singapore (I don't know more than five people under the age of 50 who speak it well, other than my relatives).
Even as I mourn language loss in one home, I have also cultivated strong links with the community that mostly comprises Vietnamese and Cambodian Teochew people who have moved to the West Coast of the United States. I am thankful to Mr Hua, who reminds me of my late grandfather in his movements and his speech, and in his family members Nancy, Randi, Amy and others who keep these traditions alive so that somehow someone from somewhere else is able to feel like I can live in this country because I am not all alone here.
I had the good sense to have brought a toy camera then, since I was concerned about my nicer cameras falling into the river. No such concern for my own physical safety... Holga fisheye, probably.
When I was in my early 20s I thought it would be a super swell, super safe idea to get on the 'fast boat to Laos'. I met T, a very old friend who was by then living in Australia, in Bangkok. He wanted me to plan an adventure that would reflect the kind of fun things I get up to, something he might never be able to plan or do on his own. And he wanted me to take him with me.
So I put us on a bus from Bangkok to Chiang Khong, near the border with Laos. We were going to take the fast boat. The slow boat was too slow (two days! I was in a hurry all the time back then. For what? Who knows!), so we would take the fast boat. Only five hours if we take this boat, I said.
T thought it was exciting too. We got on the fast boat from Huay Xai, threw our bags into the back, and we were given a life jacket and crash helmet each. Other backpackers who wisely got on the slow boat looked mildly concerned for us. I had not a concern in the world. I was young. And dumb!
I fell asleep on the boat the entire time. T, however, looked quite sick. I got off the boat refreshed and in no worry at all. The next day, we went to look at some caves.
I'm thankful to my photography hobby, which has been a part of my life in some way or form for the last 20 years.
I thought it might be interesting to locate photos that would locate me at different parts of my life, in many places, so that I could see, at a glance, what a journey it's been.
In many ways, my photography journey is indistinguishable from my journey through the world. I never went anywhere without a camera.
My first camera was a Nikon F-601. I brought it with me to Koh Chang, a beautiful island in northeast Thailand.
This was the first overseas trip I went on by myself (with a former partner). We were in our first year of college. It took a fair amount of convincing (and saving) to make this trip happen. I planned an ambitious trip that got us to Koh Chang for a brief respite before we went north into Cambodia by land.
I don't think I was interested in being a backpacker as such, but I felt very drawn to immersing myself deeply in the countries around me. I had a sense that this type of travel would open up many opportunities for me: but I didn't know what. It didn't make financial or any other sense then.
All I knew was that I did not want to be sucked in to the corporate rat race in my home country, and that if I followed my nose for adventure, maybe things would make sense later.
I kept returning to Thailand. Often with friends, sometimes alone. It was my place of peace and happiness. I had a friend who let me stay with him in Bangkok (RIP Dave! I will always be grateful that we became friends the time and the way that we did). It was also a hub: eventually I started taking on assignments for magazines and newspapers, and being located in Thailand (during my college summer vacation) was perfect. I could get on a $80 flight to India, or take a bus or motorbike to Cambodia, or go meet someone and work with them in Vietnam relatively easily.
When I was home (I actually had full time college to complete, though it often did not feel like it), I sought out exciting things to do. Growing up, I often heard people say 'Singapore is boring' or 'there's nothing to do here' (even from people who were from there), but I refused to believe that was true.
I certainly got up to a lot of mischief. Some of it good, some not. In any case, this sort of exploration fueled my curiosity. In this period, I actually wound up writing travel and food guides to Singapore at a variety of places, some online, some in hard copy: which was an exciting way to make money to fund other onward adventures. I also wound up eating at every corner of the country because of that, and I certainly have no complaints.
My university wanted me to do an internship at a bank, and I balked. I fought to have this work be recognized as an internship. Eventually, I won. But it was hard fought.
In my last year of college, I fell in love with a woman who lived 250 miles north of me. We met sometimes in the middle. I knew my life was about to change: big time. I guess this photo was a tentative record of that moment. Shortly after, we moved even further away. She moved 8000 kilometres west, and I also moved halfway there. Years later, we would finally live in the same country, the one originally pictured here. We had such anadventurous life together. I got to see a lot of the world with her, and I got to do many things in this period of my life. We started companies, we made software, we made food, we had a dog. A dog that's still very much a part of my life today.
I never thought I would move to America. It wasn't my dream, the way it was for so many people. But life brought us here. Specifically, my marriage brought me here. We needed a place to live that was going to be more... amenable to our lives.
I think we've built a good life for ourselves. It'll be five years soon. Five years of being married to Sabrena, my wonderful wife, and five years of living here together. I now speak in Fahrenheit, much to her horror. She keeps tabs of all the ways in which I am 'turning American'. "You speak way too loudly, and just yesterday you scared me when you told me the boiling point of water was 212."
I am sorry.
We're part of a community. We go to things. We learn things together. We explore our environment. We fuss over Cookie, our 14 year old dog, and Mila, our 16 year old cat. We trace the ways in which our lives have changed, the ways in which we have, inevitably, become, well, American. It's a bittersweet story.
But we are here now. And if you were to tell 20 year old me in the very first photograph that this is going to be my life in the future? I'd be very thankful for the adventures, and be looking forward to this one.
Invalid DateTime
Photo taken on Rollei QZ 35T, Ektar 100, developed and scanned by Underdog Film Lab.
For whatever reason, I've been going to Chinatown in San Francisco more often. I don't particularly love the restaurants there (a few faves, but that's it), but it is convenient to go there when I want to pick up certain groceries.
When I want the Malaysian instant coffee I desperately miss (Chek Hup brand from Ipoh), the only place I've seen in the city that carries it consistently is Sun Kau Shing Co. (The older people who work there speak Chiu Chow / Teochew, if that's also what you speak, like me.)
The freshest tofu at Wo Chong (look at the glass cabinet by the counter, not in the fridge.. get literally anything there).
The best deal on hotpot supplies (everything from hotpot soup base to the best quality beef and lamb, homemade fish paste, all the sausages and tofus and noodles you need, even the hotpot) at Gold Coin Trading.
When my mother was visiting, she also loved Mow Lee Shing Kee, a local SF Chinatown lap mei business that has been preserving meats the traditional way for the last 150 years. I never had this quality of Chinese meats until I came to California: many people have been doing it in old school ways for the last 100 to 200 years, whereas I've only had very commercially made Chinese meats in modern Asia. (SoCal has a few really good stores, too.) Try their duck liver sausage. If you've had lap cheung in the past and not liked it (Chinese sausages), I guarantee that the ones from here are.. different. The difference between a Chinese sausage from here and one made in a factory, is an even wider delta than say, an artisanal Italian sausage and an American factory made sausage. I am a big fan of this place.
It was our first time attending a high society event in San Francisco. There was wonderful music. The multiple Grammy-winning San Francisco Girls Chorus sang a few select pieces, and we were also treated to the 'dark, velvety' operatic voice of Nikola Printz.
Since the theme of the evening was 'Out of the Woods', there were also fairies. Naturally. I took a photo of one of them here.
Photo taken on Leica M3, 50mm Summilux, Kodak T-Max P3200, developed and scanned by Underdog Film Lab, Oakland.
One of the joys of living in downtown San Francisco is how I can get to many cultural events with a 10 minute walk. Some nights it's jazz at SFJazz, others it's at the opera or symphony. Many rock and punk (even Balkan music!) shows within walking or transit distance, too! Even though many artists have been priced out of San Francisco, many cornerstone and higher prestige shows still remain here at the downtown venues. I do find myself popping over to Oakland for more hiphop and even folk music, though. That stuff is barely in San Francisco anymore.
I brought my Leica M3 and 50mm Summilux to the SF Symphony to watch Herbert Blomstedt conduct Dvořák’s Eighth Symphony. With high ISO film (T-Max P3200) of course. The Leica was very silent, though of course I didn't take photos while the orchestra was playing. It was also my first time shooting T-Max P3200 indoors in a dim setting. I like this photo, and want to keep documenting the music I go to see.
I have been an avid enthusiast of phone photography and videos even before iPhones arrived in the world. To that end, I still chuckle when I think about how in the mid 00s, I not only took cool photos that I still love today, using a Nokia N73, one of them even went on the front page of Flickr for a while!
A photograph of a cow on a pile of limestone. Cherrapunjee, India.
A photograph of a limestone kiln in Cherrapunjee, India.
A sign that greets you as you enter Cherrapunjee.
I had to take a screenshot.
This was the first photography and writing assignment I ever went on. I met a photojournalist in a bar in Mumbai, and ended up collaborating with him across India and Bangladesh. He took the cool pictures (I thought, at the time, as I was less confident in my photography skills and equipment); I wrote many of the stories (which were published by various magazines). We were there to document climate change in the world's wettest place at the time. Not bad for a still-in-college kid (me, then), to have had the opportunity to do things like that.
Around a decade ago the world was a vastly different place. Aung San Suu Kyi had been released and was poised to run her country, finally. The country, so close to mine yet so far apart in so many ways, was opening up. I set out to try to see it before it became another Southeast Asian tourist hotspot with breathless growth and development. I think I was concerned about ecological destruction then, but boy, there was that and so much more to have been worried about.
This was maybe the second last time I traveled anywhere that had no Internet connectivity whatsoever (the last place was Cuba, 2016). 6 months from the time this photograph was taken, you could get data on sim cards at the airport for five bucks; at this point, I still had one of the infamous three thousand dollars (yes, green bucks) per Burmese sim card arrangements, that I got through work. It also had no data on it, in spite of the cost. (For a long time, the market in issuing Burmese sim cards was very much like the used car market in an oligarchy. The elite officials ran the whole thing.)
Friends with Burmese connections helped me plan this trip. You couldn't buy a domestic travel ticket for bus or plane outside of Myanmar, because that was closed, but you could do it in Peninsula Plaza, Singapore, the hub of one of the largest Burmese diaspora in the world. You couldn't use an ATM there, but you could send money to someone in Singapore, whose uncle would then meet you at your hotel to give you a bag of cash.
I was trying to get to Bagan. "Go to this place, wait there, and someone will come and help you sort out everything."
It was a whole thing. I waited here for a long time, so I had plenty of time to take photographs. Sometimes, I wonder what happened to the people in the photographs I took a decade ago. But it's hard to think about it.
Later, I went on to spend much more time in Yangon and Mandalay. I was there on a project with a company for almost a year. It's one of the countries I love so much, and so terribly, and I stand with the brave Burmese people who rise up, decade after decade, against crushing military rule.
One of the things I love about my home region is how it's home to so many unique cultures. Even in countries that I know well, like Malaysia, I never run out of things to do, people to meet or things to learn. In 2007 or so I went to Sarawak, one of the two Malaysian states on the island of Borneo, and lived with a local Indigenous family. June 1 of each year is usually the day of Gawai itself, which concludes the harvest season, but as many people return home from the city or even from other villages, it's also a time for merrymaking and reconnecting with family and friends. Festivities can go on for a month or more.
Read more here. It can be difficult to arrange without an 'in' to the community. Some people go to the traditional tattoo artists in Kuching and ask if they can get a tattoo, AND be invited to their family celebrations (with adequate payment, of course).
We were lucky to have been invited. Way too much local alcohol was made and consumed, and while my liver can't make this type of journey anymore (since I no longer drink), I have many fond memories of the longhouse we stayed in, and the families we met.
A young woman dressed in traditional Iban dress for Hari Gawai.
A child looks on as his cousins play, in a long house. We slept with everyone, with a mattress pulled out, on one side of the long house.
Getting there required expert navigation of the Skrang river. We were in good hands with the penghulu himself, and his sons, carrying us up the river from a small town a few hour away.
Most people love the Golden Hour. I also love the moment just before the sun sets where the light changes so quickly you don't know what you're going to get.
A photo of temples at Angkor Wat, some time in 2005. Nikon F-601, not sure which film stock.
A photo of camels in Jaisalmer, India. 2006. Canon 350D.
A series of unprecedented storms swept us in San Francisco in January and February. Dark clouds and gloomy skies are not your typical fare here. I felt just as gloomy, but also thankful for the rain's impact on California's drought situation.
Soon, the sky started becoming bluer and bluer. Sometimes pink too.
And now we're back to blue, and I'm happy again.
Chinatown photo taken with Olympus XA2. The rest with Nikon L35TWAD. All on Fuji Superia 400. All developed and scanned by Underdog Film Lab, Oakland.
Photo taken on Leica M3, 50mm Summilux, Ektar 100. Developed and scanned by The Darkroom.
When you think of bakeries in San Francisco, perhaps you think of sourdough. Certainly, there are some well known bakeries in the city known for their sourdough, but that's not a style or type of bread I enjoy at all.
I don't think it's for everyone, but I like Chinese and Japanese bakeries. I like soft, pillowy breads that straddle the line between savory and sweet. I like hot dogs in my buns. I like ham in my bread. I like scallions in them, too. Barbecue pork. Eggs. All of it. My palate leans heavily on the savory side of things, and I also prefer my breads that way. Salty. Savory. I opine on that, and more, in this video.
As part of my increasing frustration at the perennial sour-ness of bread in the city I now live in, I seek out Chinese bakeries. Here are a few of my favorites.
Mee Mee bakery in Chinatown (pictured), is known for its 'cow ear cookies' or 'pig ear cookies', a savory spiral biscuit that's really more salty than sweet. I love that shit.
I also like Yummy Bakery for Hong Kong style 'paper cup cakes', which are fluffier and softer than American cupcakes; almost like a souffle, but like paper. If that makes sense. Also try their egg white tarts and wife cakes.
In the Outer Mission, Princess Bakery is an old school favorite. Try the coconut buns and the hot dog scallion buns. In the same neighborhood, Hong Kong Bakery is a classic. Don't sleep on the Excelsior: I think it has the highest density of my favorite Chinese food in the city, more than Chinatown and more than the Sunset or Richmond.
Lastly, Pineapple King Bakery, like I recommend in the YouTube show. Try literally anything there, and definitely don't skip the milk tea. I wish there were more Japanese bakeries in the city, but there are not. I'm glad people enjoy the sourdough of San Francisco, but I'm overjoyed that I have these alternatives here. I'm trying to take the perspective of "it's okay to not like things", but it is so goddamn hard when it's so hard to find good bread in this city that isn't surprisingly sour. (Recently, I bought a bag of bagels, and it was made of sourdough. Without warning. Sour simply isn't a flavor I enjoy: I also feel that way about American hot sauce.)
This is one of the photos that made me very glad I had a film camera in my pocket. I was able to jog alongside these friends, who were having so much fun on a Segway tour of San Francisco's Crissy Fields area near the Golden Gate Bridge, and they were very kind to pose for a photo for me.
Ever since I got my Olympus XA2, I've had a capable film camera in my pocket at all times, including when I'm out running. It's not my favorite camera, but it is very capable. It certainly fits the bill for 'everyday camera'. I did not have any issues zone focusing with it as I used to own one.
It was my first time using the Fuji Acros 100 II film, though. It's very sharp, very dark, very contrasty. I probably prefer the Tri-X and HP5 look in general, but it was fun to have tried something new. I don't think I would shoot the outdoors in black and white again; a big part of why I love this part of San Francisco is the sunshine and blue skies. Even when it's extremely foggy out, it still tends to be quite colorful. I'll probably end up shooting this area regularly with different types of film stock, and see what we end up with. I think I spend most of my time outdoors in the city in this area, at least four times a week.
More photos:
Yachts outside Fort Mason.
Which way? Near the Palace of Fine Arts.
All photos in this post taken with Olympus XA2, Fuji Acros 100 II, developed and scanned at Underdog Film Lab
Photo taken on Olympus XA2 on Fuji Superia 400, developed and scanned by Underdog Film Lab.
Mention the Tenderloin and a certain type of San Francisco resident will definitely scrunch up their faces. "Homeless people", "poop", "crime"; look behind all of those terms and I believe the fear and condescension is "class".
The Tenderloin is a working class neighborhood with a largely Southeast Asian, trans, Mexican, Arab, queer, and Black population. It is also home to many of the city's unhoused population. We also need far more toilets. And housing. Problems aside (as a board member of the Tenderlon Community Benefit District, I am working to improve things in this neighborhood!), I live here because it immerses me deeply in my communities. It is Southeast Asian, and queer, at the same time. I am also far more comfortable around working class people than around the types of people who live across Van Ness. It has the food that I want to eat, and the groceries that I need.
The freedom to run downstairs and get the types of tofu, lemongrass, galangal, many rice types, noodle varieties that I use without having to go to a 'special store', or the 'ethnic aisle', is what makes me feel connected. I know that living in a 'nice neighborhod' where my food lives in the ethnic aisle will be extremely alienating. Not to mention inconvenient.
So here I am, and I am always giddy with joy when I get to grab the freshly made tofu, and the nice stalks of lemongrass, from a Cambodian grocer in the Tenderloin. The lady and her son speak my native language, even though we come from different countries. We have the same conversation daily. "What are you cooking today?"
Tofu is often my answer. The answer is always tofu.
There's a curious shop on a street I walk past daily, that makes it look like we're in the '60s. It sells vintage magazines and other memorabilia. It also has vintage theatrical programs and erotica.
I thought it would be a nice shot to take photo of a retro magazine store with my retro camera. So here's a shot of The Magazine, taken with my 60 year old camera.
Leica M3, 50mm Summilux, Ektar 100. Processed by the Darkroom in San Clemente, Orange County
As I previously mentioned, I've had my Nikon L35TWAD for some time but was not able to turn it on until now. I'm glad I managed to do that, because it's been such a joy to use! The idea that you can have two very good lenses: a wide and a telephoto one, in such a tiny package, is wonderful to me.
Here's a test shot at dusk with Fuji Superia 400 film, handheld: I like it a lot. I'm going to take it out for a few more rolls.
Nikon L35TWAD point and shoot camera, Fuji Superia 400, developed at Underdog Film Lab in Oakland.
I was having a horrible day in August 2020, feeling shut in and defeated. There was no Covid-19 vaccine yet, and we had been sheltering in place in our tiny studio apartment for around 6 months by that time. Going out for a walk with my camera was something that helped me find the little joys of life.
I hadn't used my Leica in a while, and this was one of the moments that brought a smile to my face. I'm glad I managed to stand there and hear them play for a few minutes. It lifted my spirits. I'm also glad that I have a photograph to remind me of that time.
Photograph taken on a Leica M3 with 50mm Summilux, Kodacolor 200.
In my last year of university I started dating a person who lived 250 miles away from me. It was my first serious relationship, and my last long(ish) distance one.
Before we found a living arrangement (that involved me moving to her city), we met sometimes in the middle. Luckily, her country was full of fun towns and cities with delicious food, so I didn't mind.
That relationship eventually fizzled out after several years, but I got from it: Cookie, a deep love for that country, and many years of happy food and travel memories.
A black and white photo taken in Melaka around 2007. Probably with a Leica M3 and 50mm Summilux, unsure which film stock (I'm guessing it's Tri-X).
Getting to see Sana'a in 2009 was an honor. It was one of my favorite cities: ever. Anywhere. I stayed with a friend and I got to wander around sometimes with him and his family, but sometimes alone. It was the weight of history and the air of what was about to happen: I frequently described Yemen as 'better than a set from the Passion of Christ'. It felt old, dusty, but also warm and familiar.
At the time, I made some videos of my trip. You can see me talk about spending time with some local aunties, and how they fed me. I also have a stack of photos from that trip that I never looked at. What's happening in that country is truly horrid and makes me feel sick to my stomach. (My friend managed to leave, but his family remains in Sana'a.)
You hear about the hospitality of that part of the world but you never truly understand it until you've been a guest. Then it's a memory that you'll never lose.
As a child, my parents would put us on a bus or train to Kuala Lumpur to see friends, visit people, or just have a weekend break.
One of my strongest memories of KL: getting out of the overnight train at the old railway station, and strolling to Chinatown (Petaling Street) for breakfast. Air mata kucing (literally translated to 'cat eye water'), is a sweet drink with ice, rock sugar and longans. This stall in Petaling St is extremely famous, and probably still there today. I loved drinking it out of the little steel bowls they used to have, the ice cooling me down in the ever present Malaysian heat.
This photograph was probably taken in 2005 with a Yashica Electro 35. I can't wait to go back there and have it again.
Longans are now popular in the west as a sugar alternative: 'monkfruit' sweetener is popular with fitness types. I like the fruity fleshy taste of longan, or 'luo han guo', in a traditionally made beverage like this. To this day, I haven't found a better version than this stall, though nostalgia is a drug.
Mae Salong is one of the most interesting little towns I've ever been to. It is said that many of the town's folks are descended from the southern Kuomintang army during the Chinese civil war. They went south through to Thailand with instructions to wait there in case Generalissimo Chiang wanted to mount a southern attack against the Communists. That day never came.
My mother and I went to spend a week here together once (she also likes adventurous and historical vacations), and I wound up meeting so many people because she's so good at talking to people. She speaks many languages, including the several languages spoken by this community.
We went to the market every day for fresh soy milk and you tiao. It's a memory I will cherish, and I think I have my mum to thank for why I am really interested in people, adventure, food and stories.
I love the wet markets of Asia, especially in Thailand. There's always so much to see, so much to eat.
In 2018, my wife and I moved to San Francisco. We love the Mission district and try to spend as much time there as we can, especially for groceries and tacos. (La Oaxaqueña is our favorite.)
I'm especially interested in the less gentrified bits of it that remain. A few steps away from Valencia Street, there are still pockets of the Mission that are gritty and edgy. Those are the parts of the Mission that tend to have the food and groceries that I want to have.
Sometimes, I admire the old department store signs for shops long gone, in buildings still vacant and abandoned. I like grit, real people, and greasy tacos. I like these parts of the Mission.
Photo taken on Leica M3 with 50mm Summilux, Kodacolor 200, processed by Underdog Film Lab in Oakland and lightly edited by me for color and contrast.
Sometimes you have a bad photography day where there is no light or poor light, you don't get any of the shots you want because you haven't had coffee, or you just don't know your equipment very well.
In this case, I had a borrowed Fujifilm XT-30 and telephoto lenses and.. boy, I did not have fun. I'm still not sure the Fuji digital cameras are for me, though many people love them, but I did come out with this one shot I love.
I had a wonderful trip to the Farallon islands just off San Francisco. We got on a boat with a birding crew from Half Moon Bay and, many, many seasick hours later, got close to the islands. We saw pelagic birds, porpoises, and even puffins. We got to hover near the rocks full of spectactular marine life, where the deafening chaos of thousands of sea lions and birds overwhelmed us with the sounds of life, thriving.
If you ever visit, it's well worth trying to join a trip to the Farallons. We had a good time with Alvaro's group, where we had some scientists onboard including a scientist who was previously stationed at the Farallon Islands himself, so he had a lot to share. Remember to pack the Dramamine, though.
The scientists told us about how colonialism led to the decline of many birds in the area, but that conservation efforts of the past decades are starting to help them flourish again.
Singapore is technically a secular country. A large number of its ethnic Chinese population practices traditional Taoist rituals, though evangelical Christianity is encroaching quickly. As an ethnic Chinese person raised in Christian traditions, I felt surgically removed from these practices and I wanted to document them and learn about them whenever I could.
You'll find signs of faith everywhere you go. Outside local 'coffee shops' (kopitiams), inside wet markets and hawker centres, under trees, in a street corner somewhere. At various Taoist festivals. At 'void decks' (the ground floor of a public housing building), especially during funerals.
From my archives, some photos of how faith is professed in black and white. First photo is a film photograph, the rest are digital (some kind of Sony Nex camera from 2012).
The ground floor of a public housing building is used for weddings and funerals. Here, a scan of a film photograph taken with a Leica M3. The Chinese characters are a call to prosperity.
Even in downtown Duxton Hill, hipster central in the middle of the Central Business District, you can see altars everywhere if you look. They tend to be hidden away.
There are different hierarchies of Taoist gods. The ones on the street tend to be lower ranking, and serve different functions from the 'higher class' gods.
At big Taoist festivals, like the Hungry Ghost Festival, we have traditional singers on stage. Many traditional Chinese arts are deeply entrenched in Taoist practices; or is it that Taoist practitioners tend to be the keeprs of many traditional Chinese rituals and arts.
A close up of a Taoist altar with various deities.
Taiwan's Taroko Gorge near Hualien is a place of great beauty.
I spent a fun day here in 2006 with my family, with my Leica M3 and some black and white film (I am guessing it is Tri-X 400, which would have been what I was using a lot back then).
I don't photograph nature or landscapes very much, so am very out of my depth here, but I do like the way these photos turned out. Taiwan is a place of great natural beauty, and I don't feel like I've seen enough of it even though I've been many times. (I haven't had enough of the food either, which is in my opinion one of the best in the world.)
In 2023, I am far more into being outdoors in nature than I was at the time. I will take more photos of the Californian outdoors shortly.
Taroko Gorge from the top.
Water enters the gorge from the Liwu river.
Photos taken on Leica M3, 50mm Summilux, probably Tri-X 400, probably processed at Ruby Photo in Singapore
As you may know from elsewhere, I love food. I am obsessed with it. I love eating, I love food stories, I love writing about food, I love writing about people who make and eat food.
I did that more actively in the past where I wrote a few travel guidebooks and cookbooks, and also published a few articles about Asian food culture and chefs in various publications around the world.
From my archives, photos of two true artisans. One in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, the other in Roses, in Spain's Costa Brava coastal region.
I maintain that you haven't had satay / sate until you've been to Malaysia, Indonesia or Thailand. The quality and artistry of this type of grilled skewer is on a whole other level. Xinjiang style BBQ skewers are also very good, but in the realm of well spiced, fatty satay Nusantara style, this is my favorite. Unmarinated and unseasoned chicken breast satay in Asian restaurants in America make me weep.
I had the opportunity to eat at the 'best restaurant in the world' (El Bulli) in 2008, shortly before they closed. It was a memorable meal, but the ridiculously great seafood at Rafa's in the town of Roses was even better. Here, Rafa himself weighing the seafood he's about to feed the hungry patrons of his tiny restaurant.
Photos shot on Canon 350D and 50D, with a 17-40L lens, probably one of my all time favorite lenses.
I started out in film photography in 2003 using a little Nikon F-601, and to many people (including me) the pinnacle of SLRs in the Nikon world is the F3HP.
Built like a tank, this thing will outlive me, I’m sure of it.
The mirror slap of an SLR feels a bit anachronistic at this point. I simply haven’t used a camera with a mirror in years.
With a good old tank camera and a good lens (I love the 28mm f2.8), it’s like being reacquainted with an old friend. Or riding a bike for the first time in a long while. There’s something in muscle memory, and all the pleasures of the thing you loved come back quite quickly.
I’ve not had such a nice film SLR, though. Even as dated as it is today, it is a joy to use. Everything about it feels right.
More on this after I get back my first roll from this baby.
The Tenderloin neighborhood of San Francisco frequently gets a bad rep, but I could not live anywhere else in this city. I live on a block where I get to speak my first language, the Teochew / Chiu Chow dialect of Chaoshan, with all of the Southeast Asian Chinese people here who own restaurants, grocery stores, and who mostly settled here after the Vietnam War.
Being in community and surrounded by the intimacy of language and culture has given me a different perspective on this part of town.
My photographs will often reflect this, and here I really like these half frame photos I took around here with my Kodak H35 toy camera.
The Burmese community comes out to City Hall often to advocate for help for their country.
The people who run this noodle shop not only sound exactly like my grandparents, they also make food like my grandparents'.
Photos shot on a Kodak H35 half frame toy camera and processed at Photo Plus, San Francisco, then lightly edited by me for color and contrast
Between 2013 and 2016, I went to Colombo quite frequently for work and relaxation. An old friend of mine from school lived there, and it was such an easy flight from Singapore that I found every excuse to go there, really. The scuba diving is phenomenal, too.
This past year, Sri Lanka has been in my thoughts. The troubled island continues to have a difficult time economically and politically. I highly recommend my friend Rohini Mohan's book, The Seasons of Trouble, for a gripping read of the civil war era.
It's a beautiful country, and I hope to return some day.
I don't remember what camera I used here, but it's quite likely.. an iPhone 5S definitely a Sony Nex-5 with 16mm lens!
Old school cool in one of Colombo's many historical department stores.
Friendly faces everywhere.
So many of the cities I love—Colombo, Chennai, Yangon—former British ports, have a very similar vibe in their port areas.
It's always time for tea.
The languid afternoons felt like they went on forever.
In my mid-20s I was involved in the production of several cookbooks behind the scenes. That helped start a love for food. I helped to write and photograph a cookbook for an international hotel chain's Dubai restaurants, which had all types of cuisines (their Thai chef also taught me how to cook the Thai food I now love cooking). Later, I helped a Thai-Punjabi restauranteur publish a cookbook for their restaurant in Pattaya.
These were the outtakes from some of these projects.
The essential ingredient in many cuisines, garlic.
The best part about any cookbook project: going to the market.
It's important to note that queer marriage is not recognized in our home countries.
We took these photos, and then we went to Auckland, New Zealand, for the actual ceremony.
It was only fitting that these photos were taken in the woods near Bukit Timah, where the old railway line connected both of our cities. It was also a place of refuge and safety for me, as I frequently went there as a child to walk and spend time in nature. Even today, when I go home, I still try to go to that area frequently.
Which one looks like film and which one looks digital?
She was telling me a joke.
Walking along the railway tracks that connected our cities.
I have always loved film photography. I love everything about it.
From the moment I was given a disposable film camera as a child, to collecting old cameras and taking them on my travels, I love the whole process of waiting to see what photos I come back with.
Like so many others, I have been mostly digital for a while. That's fine. I don't much care for the film vs digital debate; but I love film cameras, the older the better.
At the end of 2022, I decided to jump back into film again. I now live somewhere else (San Francisco), have more time and ability to indulge this admittedly expensive and indulgent hobby, and also generally feel like I have more stories I'd like to share.
Before I do that, I'd like to start at the beginning.
17 years ago: this was me in a different place and time. With the same old hobby. Let's see what it all looks like when I pick up where I last left off, shall we?
A selfie with a Yashica Electro 35, a camera I loved but sold a long time ago.
I have been on a roll of late with my data liberation project.
The last piece in my photo liberation project was to figure out a way to take out all of the data from iCloud. Having been in the Apple walled garden for more than a decade and a half now, I have.. a lot of stuff in there.
Apple's official documentation simply says "log in to icloud.com, select the photos you want and download as a zip". What if you've got tens of thousands, or hundreds of photos like me?
Enter iCloud Photos Downloader, a Python utility that sucks out all of your iCloud photos into wherever you're running it.
In my case, I've already got a Linux server going for my photos so that's where I wanted it. The eventual goal is to put all of the photos into PhotoPrism there, as I like its tagging and deduping functionality. The goal is for all of my photos to eventually live on photos.mydomain.com, which is where all photos are going to.. eventually. Right now, I've only got my Google Photos in there. Time to get my iCloud photos in there as well.
Install iCloud Photos Downloader in your server or other computer
As with any other pip package, there can be errors because of your Python environment. I ran into a problem with having too many Pythons, and I could not run the ./icloudpd.py script, which threw a Python module error.
To fix this, I opened icloudpd.py in a text editor and I edited the first line from: #!/usr/bin/env python to #!/usr/bin/env python3. This tool needs Python 3.6+ to run.
The tool will prompt you to login and authenticate to iCloud.
Note: if you have 2FA enabled, you will most likely have to re-authenticate every 90 days or so.
I got tens of thousands of photos as expected. The tool shows you a nice little progress bar with basic information. It ran for several hours (around 5 or 6?) but it really depends on your connection speeds. You can turn off video downloads by using the --skip-videos option. You can also have it email you when it's done by using the various smtp options, but I did not want to bother with that.
I also have Syncthing set up and I am evaluating which workflow I prefer. I might want to continue keeping a copy of all photos on both iCloud and on PhotoPrism for redundancy.
In any case, I'm glad to have found a non-GUI way to access my iCloud photos. This will make any projects in this category much easier from now on.
If you, like me and many others, have started to feel uncomfortable about one company knowing everything about you, moving off the Google ecosystem is the natural first step. There are lots of alternatives for the main features: for search, there is DuckDuckGo, which is improving all the time and has now fully replaced Google search for me. There is Fastmail, Proton Mail and many other alternatives for email. For photos, Google Photos and iCloud Photos reign supreme.
I have attempted over the last couple of years to move off Google Photos. Each time, I've been let down by problems in bandwidth and download speeds. If you have vast amounts of data, it can get very difficult to work with the raw data you obtain from Google Photos using a graphical user interface. Each time I've tried to do that I've ended up with corrupted files or incomplete data.
With a reverse proxy into a photos.mydomain.com address and https.
To be honest, while I know my way around servers I don't have a lot of experience with containers, networking or security. I did not want to attempt this project until I succeeded in getting a beginner's version of all that up online.
Choice of self-hosted photo software. I looked mostly at PhotoPrism and PhotoStructure. Both of these projects appeared closest to the sort of self-hosted Google Photos-esque application I was looking for. Many other photo projects are far closer to web 1.0 style web galleries. In my case, I had more than a quarter of a million photos and videos strewn across multiple clouds. I have ADHD, and it has been very difficult for me to organize things.. anything.
Hardware. I decided that I wanted to lease a server in Europe, because there are very good deals to be had there. Hetzner, OVH and an assortment of related companies like SoYouStart, Kimsufi, I've used most of them at various times in the past. It's relatively affordable to get up and running on a server run by any of those companies using used or old parts. For the most part it works out cheaper than trying to own your own hardware right now (in the midst of a global chip and memory shortage). Many people certainly do this sort of work on a NAS or a Raspberry Pi, but I knew I wanted something with many more cores. I got a Xeon E3 server to start, but may upgrade later. $27 a month is not a bad deal at all for a dedicated server with those speces (16GB RAM, relatively decent uplink).
Source of data, and download method. As mentioned previously, I have not had much luck with retrieving my data from Google in the past. This time, I decided to completely avoid downloading my data to local storage, knowing that even with decent desktops and laptops I would still struggle with handling all of this data. I decided to download the backup files directly into my server instead. I decided to do a Google Takeout of all of my Google Photos from my G-Suite domains (several!) and my personal account's Google Photos. You can do the same by going to the Takeout page. I decided to send Takeout data directly into OneDrive, where I have a temporary premium account solely for this purpose. I've noticed I can fetch data from OneDrive at very high speeds using rclone, at least 2-3x faster than from Dropbox or Google Drive.
Rclone, a fantastic tool I can't live without. I have been a huge fan of Rclone for a while now. While it works amazingly well for Google Drive and Dropbox, there are known limitations with rclone for extracting and moving Google Photos that I did not want to deal with. Mainly, using rclone for this purpose strips EXIF data, a known limitation of Google Photos' API.
When my Google Takeout is complete, I rclone to download from OneDrive into my server.
Accessing your photos using a reverse proxy For security, you don't want to access your self-hosted photos at SOME.IP.XX.XX:PORTNO or yourdomain.com:portno. You'll want to access it at a domain, preferably one you own. This was the hardest part for me: there are many ways to get a reverse proxy going, and I didn't know very much about all of that.
I decided to use LSIO's swag container. In a nutshell, LSIO provides very well-maintained Docker images for many popular homelab projects. You can easily stand up a wiki, a PVR, or even niche things like a self-hosted Markdown editor. I've used many of their images in other projects and I love how easy it is, how helpful the community is. The swag container was the one I spent the most time on.
It's helpful to read the docs and initial setup info. Once you figure out the ins and outs of how things are set up in this container, you can easily get https://yourdomain.com, https://anysubdomain.yourdomain.com or even https://yourdomain.com/subfolder up and running. Of all of the 'beginner' methods of learning to set up services with reverse proxies (and there are many: you can use Traefik, Caddy, docker gen, etc), this wound up being the one I felt I learned most quickly.
In summary, you want to:
Set up DNS
Get an SSL certificate for all your domains and subdomains
Edit the proxy configuration files
Read the docs, or ask for help; it took me, someone with not a whole lot of infrastructure experience but who knows a bit of Linux, a couple of days to set it up correctly.
The swag container has many built-in templates that makes this easy, once you learn its quirks.
Photoprism has Tensorflow built in. Their pre-trained model doesn't get everything right (for example, it marked a plate of squid as 'baby'), but it is pretty good. My wife is placing a bet with me that I probably have more than 20 000 photos of Cookie. The moment of truth will probably be in a day or so, when all 200 000 ish photos I've got (over the last 20 years) are finally imported, indexed and tagged.
I was able to set up PhotoPrism in Docker Compose in this manner, and access it at https://photos.mydomain.com. While I'm currently importing and indexing a quarter of a million photos, I've been happy with the speed, performance and features and have decided to sponsor the project. It's nice to see people working on useful software that works well and looks good.
I'm pretty happy with the progress I've made on this. I might make a tutorial for the more complex parts of this project later.
I don't have any commentary other than 'oh shit'. So I grabbed my camera and walked around a bit. Everything is weird and I am going to drink tea and stay calm.
I think I'll truly freak out when work stops along Van Ness. Until then, as long as Van Ness goes on, so will I.
