The Vegetarian Photographer Travel Blog

Long Term User Review of the Olympus E-P2 and Lenses

2012-01-30T11:07:00.000-06:00

Image shot with Olympus E-P2 and 40-150mm f4-5.6 lens, Lake Nokomis shoreline in spring

What I love about the camera

The size is great—its big enough to fit in my XL hands (byglove manufacturing standards,) yet small enough to take with me everywhere. It is a great general travel camera that canreally do most everything without breaking one’s back or discouraging one fromtaking a camera, and its cheap enough to have a bunch of versatile lenses. I also like the retro styling, although it’snot as retro as I might like—I would prefer more manual control knobs andwheels. Cosmetically, it is a veryhandsome classic looking camera. I alsolove that I can use vintage manual focus lenses (possible with aftermarketadapters.) It’s nice to carry on theOlympus Pen tradition from the days of the half-frame cameras.

Interchangeable lenses

One can use most any lens from any camera with the Olympus mirror-less system cameras. I personally used several brands fromdifferent manufacturers with cheap-y third party adapters. Third party adapters have varying degrees ofreliability, but I have had good luck with the ones I have bought fromAmazon.com as sold by Rainbow Imaging. They are cheap and they don’t need to beshipped from Hong Kong—although that isundoubtedly their origin. The beauty ofbuying them from Amazon is that you get them in about 2-3 days.

Interchangeable lenses work very well with the electronicviewfinder—it adjusts to maintain image brightness regardless of the F stop selected. It sometimes pays, however to open up thelens to the max aperture, or one stop below, for the most focus control. It’s a little hard to manually focus accuratelyon a particular subject point with the apertures greater than f5.6.

I have found it best to have several adapters permanentlyattached to individual lenses—this is part of the reason to use third partycheapy adapters—you can then have a lot of them for a little money. Eventually I will buy one of the better-madeVoigtlander M adapters for Leica bayonet lenses unless I choose to trade ineverything for the Fuji X10 or X100. Alot of my decision will depend on whether or not they figure out the X10's “whiteblob” issue when specular highlights are involved. From what I have read from Fuji and otherreviewers is that it is in the research works as a potential firmware update.

Micro Four Thirds and the Zoom Lenses

This type of camera is really served best by using primelenses in my personal opinion, but thankfully, Olympus has produced severalzooms. This makes the camera much moreflexible to a wider range of photographers and usages—kudos to them for thisforesight. There are probably streetphotographers everywhere chiding me for this statement, but in reality, whodoesn’t want the optimal flexibility in their camera system?

I also offer another round of kudos to Olympus for makingtheir lenses with the ability to accept threaded protective filters. A camera that won’t take protective filtersis another deal-breaker for me. I wasglad to see Olympus realized the importance of this feature—especiallyimportant for those of us who throw our lens caps in a bin until the lenses aresold or disposed. One can’t shoot aphoto through a lens cap, so unless I am stowing it for shipment to a newowner, a cap is not on my lens. Instead,a clear, high quality multicoated filter is. If I break the filter, I can replace it for much less than the lenswould cost and I can shoot something that is happening right away—without fumbling with a lens cap.

Olympus 14-42mm f3.5-5.6 lens (Version 1)

This is an excellent, light, portable lens. The zoom is great, although the frontrotation on the early version of the 14-42mm (V1—the one I own) zoom rotateswhich makes using a polarizer a giant pain in the A$$. The lens also perceives, through an internalsensor, any slight pressure on the front of the lens (like when changingfilters or bumping it) as though the lens is in a state of retraction. The ability of the lens to retract to a morecompact state is a nice feature of this lens, but one which also makes it lookreally, really odd when extended. Ididn’t realize how odd, until a friend commented on it as being the oddest lenshe had ever seen.

Since it’s a super tiny and light auto-focus lens with manual focuscapabilities, it isn’t great for holding focus while making other adjustments suchas changing filters. The focus doesn’thave the nice positive, slightly resistive feel that one gets with a truemanual focus lens, in fact the focus ring has no terminus, so one can spin itindefinitely in manual focus mode. Thankfully, one can set the camera to allow for manual override (as longas the shutter is pressed half-way) of focus which is occasionally necessary indifficult focus conditions.

The 14-45mm is a contemplative lens. It is a horrible street photography lensbecause the focus is slow and it hunts a bit in difficult conditions, but it isgreat for travel photography and the occasional landscape. The newer version of this lens is supposed tohave corrected for this flaw, and be quieter for movie making.

The positives of this lens are big, however. It close focuses accurately on the wide endto allow one to make some dramatic wide macro-type shots. I also love it for shooting stuff for sale on eBay. It is the perfect small set, smallcamera lens, and they are generally pretty inexpensive on eBay used. They are sold often as part of a kit when onebuys the camera, but if one is a street photographer, I would steer them to thekit with the 17mm f2.8 Pancake lens.

I have to say, for a tiny lens, the color rendition isimpressive, as is the sharpness.

Olympus 40-150mm f4-5.6 (version 1 with improved silence formovie use)

I also have the 40-150mm lens. While not optically fast, this lens isso light that I can track really small and fast birds in flight (check out my bank and barn swallow shots on mywebsite) I have never before been ableto track bank or barn swallows in flight with a heavy D-SLR body and associated 300+mmequivalent f2.8 lens. The Olympus40-150mm is pretty accurate in focus, however when shooting birds at a steep anglein a tree, I sometimes need to manually focus to compensate for some inaccuracyin focusing. I shot this image of a Red-tailed Hawk with this lens which required some manual focus override. This could be made betterby making the focus area smaller, but then I would need to change my settingsback for street photography. There is acustom menu feature which may help here as well.

There is another more expensive lens that is reallynice. I am not normally a big fan oflong zoom range lenses, but if you can afford it, the 14-150mm lens is trulyimpressive. I should say that I haveonly tried it briefly in the camera store, but it made me want to trade myother two zoom lenses to get it. It’s abit heavier, but it’s excellent on the wide end and the perfect travel zoomrange. It has much better, more solidconstruction than its two counterparts covered in this review

What is less desirable about the Olympus EP-2

The lack of a built in viewfinder would normally be a deal-breaker. Thankfully they have a less desirable, but available option in an electronic viewfinder. The Olympus VF-2's superior viewfinderresolution was one of the main reasons I didn’t go with the Panasonic mirror-less camera offering. I really prefer a built-in finder, even ifit’s an electronic viewfinder, but an attachable version comes in at a close second. I can, however, saythat I have successfully knocked the nearly $280.00 viewfinder off my camera atleast 5 times. One time, I thought itwas lost for good in a lake—thankfully I found it in the scrub brush near theshoreline. One needs to maintain acertain vigilance with regard the finder since its not cheap, and while itattaches well, it nevertheless doesn’t lock-on—it really should for its price. I hope the future versions lock, or that theyjust build a zooming optical finder in like the Fuji X100 camera. Even betterwould be a built in super hi-res EVF like the new Sony APS-c camera (I have only heard about this finder--never tried it.) In the meantime, one can get a cap keeper orsome such device to keep track of the finder. If you own it, you will at some point knock it off the camera.

Black Olympus E-P2

If you get the black version of the E-P2, be forewarned thatyou are basically buying the silver version with a light plastic coating overit that will wear off in time. It wears rightunderneath the spot where one holds the camera. Mine is missing a bunch of the coating where one might expect it. I have, on occasion, looked at my handwondering where the grayish stuff came from—turns out it was from the camerabody. I still would recommend the blackbody and black 17mm kit lens combo—just try shooting through a window with thesilver camera or lens and you will understand my recommendation. Silver may be preferred by some, but it’s aphotographic nightmare to have a reflective surface shining back on one’ssubject especially when there is a potentially reflective surface through whichone is shooting.

Resale value

I am not sure why, but these camera bodies have been goingfor some ridiculously low prices on eBay—maybe its because they are well usedlike mine, but even with a lot of use on them, they are an excellent “classic”digitalcamera. In my thinking, they are worth far more than they are going for oneBay. Buy them used before peoplerealize what they are really worth.

The Olympus 17mm f2.8 lens (34mm equivalent)

I love shooting street photography with a 35mm lens—and inmost cases; the 17mm f2.8 is a great lens for this. The only time it becomes frustrating is whenone is shooting something with straight lines in it (architecture orconstructed abstractions where the horizon line becomes integral to theshot.) The distortion is unpleasant,although mostly correctable with Photoshop (although one loses image area in this process.) It would also be nice if the lens was a bit faster, but then it wouldalso be a lot more expensive. The lens ispretty sharp and focuses quickly and accurately with no detectablehunting. I look forward to trying thenew fast 12mm and 45mm prime lenses with their hefty price tags—I would suspectthese problems don’t exist on the new primes. While the new lenses look cool in silver, it would also be nice to seethem in black painted versions.

Olympus 17mm Optical Finder VF-1

I also had the optical finder for this camera (VF-1,) butsold it after I learned that the camera settings wont let one turn off the rearscreen completely (it looks off, but if you are shooting at night or in subduedlight, you can see that its not really off. It was also easy to bump a button, any button, which immediately turnedon the rear screen until one turned it back off—a royal pain in the butt. The optical finder was a great idea, and ifthe rear sensor turned completely off while allowing one to make theadjustments without it (more old-style knobs and levers instead of softwareadjustment) then I would have kept it.

ISO/ASA adjustment

Olympus really allows oneto adjust just about everything on this camera to suit one’s shootingstyle. The two adjustments I couldn’tfind was one that turned off the wrap around ISO. What do I mean by this? ISO 100 and 6400 are, but one accidental bumpaway from each other. If one sets theircamera to 100 and then bumps the adjustment button in just the right way, itwill switch to 6400. They really need tomake this so that if you bump the adjustment button when set at 100, forexample, that it only goes in one direction—toward 200. The difference between 100 and 6400 aresignificant in both noise and camera performance. The difference between 100 and 200 is barelynoticeable and rather inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

The second issue that I have is with the Auto ISO. I use this feature a lot in streetphotography since shooting conditions are constantly changing. For some reason it allows one to set an upperlimit, but not a lower limit. The lowerlimit is automatically set to 200 even though the camera can perform at100. I love auto ISO on this camera—Iset the top to 4000 which for me is the acceptable noise limit, but it surewould be nice to use the 100 setting as the starting point. I suppose this limit may be imposed becauseof the +/- settings on exposure??? Iwould guess, however, that these allowances have been made for ISO 100 anywaysince I am pretty sure I can make +/- exposure adjustments when the camera isset to 100. There is undoubtedly areason for it, but if there is, it is lost on me.

Flash

The flash is great—until one needs to use it at the sametime as the finder—then you are out of luck. Here, my wish list is a separate shoe for accessories and one for thefinder—or as previously suggested, a built in finder. I would even welcome a sync port to allow oneto use a manual flash on a bracket or an off camera flash.

The Olympus E-P2 Shutter Click Sound

For street photographers, the shutter sound is veryimportant. If one is trying to bediscreet, one wants a quiet shutter. Thequietest shutter I have encountered was on the Canon G7-G10 cameras—I can’t sayafter those models what their shutters sound like since I didn’t own them. The E-P2 shutter is about the same loudnessas the Contax G2 film rangefinder, maybe even a little softer. I will say the Leica M (I owned the M2)series are probably more discreet, but they aren’t an electronically re-cockingthe shutter at the same time like the Olympus E-P2 and the Contax G2. I find the shutter quiet enough, but I don’tgenerally need the super discreet click of the Leica M.

The Olympus E-P2 Sensor

This camera has a great sensor. I can get really nice sharp images and I lovethe proportion of the images. My CanonDSLR APS-c camera had broken down for a while (broke the mirror hinge when I surpassedshutter capacity I suspect) and I was forced to shoot my Olympus E-P2exclusively. After I replaced the Canoncamera, I was shocked at how much more compact the Canon image area was top tobottom. I prefer the proportion of the Olympus sensor over the Canon, but the Canon wins oncolor, resolution, and imperceptible color noise. The Canon has a larger sensor, fewermegapixels, and seemingly better color depth, so it’s really no surprise. APS-c is a much larger sensor.

Professionalism

A lot of photographers are choosing these smaller camerasfor their portability and weight. Theyare also much less threatening in reportage and journalistic applications (See PDN's Tools & Techniques section, Compact Cameras Keep It Discreet, p36-40 of the November 2011 issue.) One is less likely to be stopped as aprofessional journalist if they are using something that looks to be a vintage,unassuming, small tourist camera. Theyhave a larger than normal sensor for a “pocket”camera, and so provide a better resolvedimage than most pocket-sized cameras—I use the term “pocket-sized”loosely. I generally carry it on a longstrap on the side of my body. It is abit of a trick to fit it in one’s pocket with the viewfinder or anything otherthan a pancake lens attached. Theexternal viewfinder makes it particularly difficult to remove from one’s pocket quicklyanyway.

Olympus PS-BLS1 Battery life

I have two batteries and recharge one per day onaverage. I try to never leave foranywhere important without two batteries—one in the camera and one backup. I generally leave my camera on at all timeswhen there is potential for making photographs, and so the camera is onsometimes for 1 hour at a time, sometimes longer. I do this because a camera isn’t ready tomake a photo if it’s turned off. Ialways want my camera ready to make a photo.

The camera tends to heat up over time when used in thismanner—the sensor is in essence always on which means it is always collectinglight, and in turn heating up. Thecamera seems to handle this type of usage well. I have shot with it for over a year now and it’sstill going strong. The heating-up ismore a problem in the summer months where ambient temperature and lightintensities are more at issue. In thesecases, the camera sometimes gets a bit too hot to hold, and I shut it down fora while. Not ideal, but there isn’t areal alternative at this moment in mirror-less camera manufacture. There are always trade-offs in anytechnology. Olympus has done really wellin this regard, and I can imagine it will only get better.

If I am shooting continuously, I can say the camera willshoot about 300 images per battery, but keep in mind that I don’t do a lot ofchimping, and when I do, its to check focus using the viewfinder which I suspect draws a lot less power than the rear LCD screen.

Conclusions

This is a great street camera—the best I have owned to datein the digital realm, and the only digital I have owned with interchangeable lenses. I have not yet owned a Leica M9 however, norhave I owned the Panasonic micro four-thirds equivalent, but chose against itdue to its electronic viewfinder which was a much lower in resolution incomparison with the Olympus finder. Icould more frequently manually focus accurately with the Olympus finder. I suspect I would like the Leica M9 betterthan the Olympus or Panasonic, but for the price, the Olympus is an excellentalternative.

The Olympus viewfinder isthe thing that makes this camera really stand out. It is the one accessory that should really bea part of the camera body. It allows oneto use aftermarket and vintage lenses—something that I really enjoy. There were hundreds of really cool lensesthat were manufactured in the golden age of film that are still really cool andstill really sharp. This camera allowsone to shoot like the old days—fully manual (although with double the focallength due to the M4/3 Sensor.) Thereare ways to make this camera even more incredible with a larger sensor, but Leica has been the onlyone to embrace the full-frame format in a small rangefinder orrangefinder-style body.

So, until I can afford the Leica M9 camera and itsassociated cadre of expensive lenses, the Olympus E-P2 is a great streetphotography option. And, if you need toshoot birds with a long telephoto, you can certainly do that, too. Not even the M9 can do that.

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Cabin Fever Cure: North Shore Winter Adventure

2011-02-13T12:15:00.000-06:00

Lake Superior Shoreline near Duluth, Minnesota

Luck was in our favor—it was a warmer day in this snowy Minnesota winter. The state parks were open, but nature was in control and no-one raised a shovel against it on the trails. The North Shore of Lake Superior, which usually beckons us as an autumn adventure destination for leaf peeping, was begging for our winter return. January had been a challenging month. My brother and I needed some of the natural beauty and the relative peace these popular destinations offer.

The park offices and parking areas were well plowed, as was the Split Rock Light House overlook, but other stairs and access-ways for the deeper-woods attractions were made smooth by snow and ice cover which filled the stair treads and risers. It would be impossible and cost prohibitive for the parks to keep the lengthy passages shoveled during the long northern Minnesota winters, and there were very few visitors to justify it. We, however, were the exception.

Gooseberry Falls' frozen surface with water running below

For Gooseberry Falls, the stairs were the only marginally safe access points, and we, or rather, I, obliged the falls with some falls. This particular stairway had water flow over it, which froze solid, then was later followed by a dusting of snow to disguise it for my eyes as walk-able terrain. Even the metal railings along some of the sidewalks were coated with black ice, so grabbing them, while better than not, was no guarantee of easier passage.

Stair conditions leading down to Gooseberry Falls

I had two cameras draped around my neck in typical photo-nerd fashion. Fortunately, I landed well—on top of my camera bag. Everything survived—including the gear still in the bag—what a relief. I always have at least one camera around my neck, so guarding one or more of them during a tumble has become more of a reflex than a conscious action. One should probably be more concerned with personal preservation, and an ankle was slightly injured, but it quickly healed. In hindsight, it would have been better to sit and slide down the stairs rather than attempt to walk on them.

I counted two other “crazies” walking near and across points of the falls—it helps if one has visited recently to know where the major, more slowly changing structures are, but even that is no guarantee that major erosion, bizarre ice, or fallen trees have washed treacherously onto the natural chokepoints of the falls.

Even though much of the falls had iced-over, there was plenty of water roiling beneath the frozen exterior. The water did an excellent job reminding of its unpredictability through terrifying, tumultuous, and roaring openings. There were plenty of tiny signs planted in the snow and ice warning that river ice is never safe—believe them. Luck was on our side this time.

Moving north along the coastal highway, we stopped at Split Rock Lighthouse for a quick peek over the cliff—it was the only attraction open beyond the visitor center and gift shop. The wind was raging, snow stinging, but it was worth every minute. It was exhilarating to stand atop Split Rock gazing across the cliffs, hazy skies, and snow powdered shoreline filled with leafless trees. The day was overcast and the snow was whipping sideways due to the lake winds, but the adventure continued—even with a few of my protestations—I am glad it did.

We pushed on in what seemed to me to be worsening, but tolerable snow conditions. The radio weather reports differed wildly, some initially predicting a foot of snow, but the most recent local reports quoted 3-4 inches—this was much more acceptable. Regardless of the weather, I had, as always, packed for a potential overnight in the north, but didn’t want to have to make use of my gear—especially if it meant sleeping in the car.

We pushed northward to Tetteguche State Park. Tetteguche has a river gorge area near the entrance that we like to visit, the stairs were similarly filled in with packed snow, but far less icy since no water, and only a few hikers, had flowed across them.

Surf at Tetteguche State Park where Lake Superior meets the Baptism River

We slid down the long stairs, hiked the path, and eventually arrived in the water-carved rock ravine where the Baptism River meets Lake Superior. The waves beat against the coastline as the wind straight-lined its path across the lake. We had no idea what we were in for—we just knew it was a very cool looking place in the summer.

We made our way down to the mouth which had silted over with rock, huge chucks of lake ice, and a slicker coating of splash ice. We were safer here since little water flowed between the Baptism and Superior this time of year—or for that matter even in the fall during our normal excursions.

The wind blasted us—snow was whipping sideways across us, and in some cases was blowing up the cliff sides—yes, UP. Shards of water spray that froze in mid-air were carried by the gale force winds—hitting us in the face and eyes, but it was pure enjoyment nonetheless. We howled like school kids as nature demonstrated its winter’s fury.

Tetteguche has dangerous cliffs, even in the warmer, non-snow and ice covered months. We chose not to venture further to keep from making our own small splash from the cliff heights into the very unforgiving, frigid lake.

We left Tetteguche State park for home, just in time to enter white-out conditions on the normally scenic roadway. We could only see about 100 feet in front of us due to blowing snow. The driving was slow, and only possible by patiently following other cars and trucks bright tail lights, while keeping our speed below about 25 miles per hour.

White-out conditions on the return drive on Minnesota State Highway 61

An impatient guy zipped by us in his car, passing at probably no more than 40 miles per hour only to forcefully mold his car into a snow bank about a mile up the road. I would guess the driver was looking at $1500 in damage to the underside of his car in the form of CV joint boot replacement and possibly more if his exhaust system, oil pan, or other underbody components were compromised by chunks of plow ice and snow. The police responded quickly—seemingly parked at a nearby gas station waiting to assist in just such an occurrence.

The snow lifted as we suspected once we reached Duluth’s city warmth, but then became freezing rain, which made for a different group of difficult driving conditions. We pulled off the road for a bit and a bite to eat at Grandma’s in Duluth in hopes the rain would subside. We had eaten little else during the day, and this was a semi-traditional stop on the way home from the North Shore—a full belly is particularly prudent on winter road trips. The freezing rain quickly emptied our windshield-washer fluid as the rain turned to ice on impact. We stopped again in a small town to refill both gas and washer fluid, get a snack, and continued on safely to the sacred warmth of our homes.

Disclaimer: This account of our adventure is not an endorsement of the trip itself, only a documentation of it. Activities portrayed in this account, while truthful, are not recommended without proper training and the proper use of safety equipment.

Many of these destinations have safe, sanctioned winter activities—check their websites for more details.

Tetteguche State Park

Split Rock Lighthouse

Gooseberry Falls

Stay at Home Travel: Ten Ideas for Low Budget, Rich International Experience

2011-01-26T17:07:00.000-06:00

There are three things I think about constantly: travel, art (photography,) and science. If it’s true what is said about men, then sex probably fits in there every seven seconds. At any rate, the other 6 intervening seconds are otherwise occupied with travel, art, and science.

Travel can be as much of the mind as it is of the body if one is primarily driven by experience and culture—if your primary objective in vacationing is laying on the beach and soaking up the sun, then this article will be of little help to you. A towel, some cut-up travel brochures, and some indoor sand might be your ticket to the perfect stay-at-home travel experience.

Recessions lend themselves to certain necessary economies. Since my wanderlust never ceases, I have created innovative means of sustaining some of my travel needs without leaving my home. I consider these experiences personal edification for the day when I can travel more robustly using the more traditional grouping of airline ticket and hotel rooms, pre-booked.

Others have approached the recession from a “cautious, but still have money” perspective. The recently coined term “staycation” generally refers to driving vacations in one’s home state, but yet still away from one’s home for a defined period of time. What if even this type of travel seems an extravagant expense of either money or time? What if you want a more international experience?

I have adopted a more hyper-local yet international version of the staycation which I call “Stay at Home Travel.” Some of the following ideas can play double duty. They can be expanded upon to create an international-style staycation, or act as a pre-travel research and preparation experience for a future travel event. They can also become an event unto themselves and will work for most any documented destination, anywhere in the world.

Stay-at-home travel requires very little expense, but can be very informative while providing some of the mind expanding experiences normally only associated with overseas travel.

Boarding Call: Ten Seed ideas to get your Stay at Home Travel Underway

1) Set aside your vacation day(s)

This seems simple, but it will often take a little planning to get everyone’s schedules in sync. Think of this as a standard vacation, and give it the space and time to truly develop as an enriching travel experience. If you need to work during your Stay at Home Travel experience, then pretend that you are working abroad. It can be fun to say a few pleasant words in a foreign language at the water cooler, or spend your lunch hours at thematically relevant restaurants. It probably would be a good idea to let your co-workers know what you are doing—it might even lead to some new traditions in the workplace.

2) Think about local pods of culture, specialty museums, and experiences available in or near the town you live

These resources are going to be valuable to you in the near future for your stay at home travel vacation. I live in the Twin Cities, so there is a lot of culturally rich areas from which to choose, but say for instance that you live in a remote town in Northern Minnesota—you might have concentrations of German, Scandinavian, and Native American communities among many other cultures nearby which may be of interest to you.

3) Watch tons of travel shows about the destination in which you are interested

Public television is an excellent resource for this, but you can’t ask them to customize their program broadcasts to meet your specific destination of focus. Use Public Television as part of the initial survey process in choosing a destination. The public library, however, is an excellent resource for reserve-able travel programming and cultural information. I go online to the public library’s website and place requests for DVD programming that focuses on the specific area of my interest (your local library services may vary.) I then watch everything that I can find about the destination of interest. This prepares me for interesting new insights into the country and gives one an idea of what highlights the region contains. Travel shows not only show areas of significant touristic interest, but provide insights into a framework of cultural basics.

4) Find local culturally relevant specialty grocery stores and bakeries

I used to live near a Vietnamese grocery (if I remember correctly) which allowed me to buy, and later have a taste of a green soda which had chunks of gelatin in it. While an interesting experience, I discovered that I don’t like chunks of candied gelatin in my drinks. I could get used to it, and even grow to like it if spent a lot of time in Vietnam, but for now, I have at least added an interesting experience to my life.

While in the grocery, knowing that I didn’t know what I was buying since I couldn’t read Vietnamese, I bought a second type of soda—I liked the second one much better, but oddly, I don’t remember that one because it contained only soda—no gelatin chunks. It was a great stay at home vacation moment that I have long remembered. It cost less than two dollars, but I learned something about another region of the world.

5) Find resources for some of the traditional food dishes that are offered from your country of interest

Chances are, if you live in a major city, that there are plenty of restaurants that serve culturally relevant food. The more traditional the restaurant the better. You may not like everything you are served, but you may love something else. For picky eaters, this takes some courage, but you will find the more you explore, the more you becomes willing to explore. There is an entire world of interesting foods, drinks and traditional dishes out there waiting to be discovered. Put away your preconceptions and try something new.

6) Explore the festivals, holidays, and seasonal traditions of your selected stay at home vacation

As an example, while visiting the American Swedish Institute during their annual holiday exhibits, I went into their fantastic gift shop. My companion graciously bought a couple treats from Sweden for us, one of which was called Glogg. I had heard of Glogg on some of the European travel and cooking shows I have watched. It was fantastic—the best thing I have had in a long time. I even wrote a blog entry about it.

7) Decorate a room in your home based on your chosen stay-at-home travel destination.

Use the library or internet for research on your culture of interest. You may not get it right, but it can be fun—who knows, you might create a new family tradition.

8) Watch movies created in and for your region of interest

Foreign language films can give hints of culture by the nature of their origin—you might even pick up some of the language. Foreign actors are language and nuance masters. Even fictional accounts are based in the reality of the cultures, international positions, and politics from which the film originates.

9) Study the language or learn a few key phrases

Create a short-term immersion environment in your home. If you speak another language, spend a few days only speaking that language to your children, spouse or housemates (assuming they are agreeable to it) during dinner time. If you don’t speak another language, take a phrasebook and learn a few phrases, practicing them among your family members. Your accent may be off, but its kind of fun to expand your language resources.

Libraries are an excellent resource for language learning materials. Spend some time browsing their DVD, audio, and book collections for language learning resources. Pop in a language CD in your car, or watch a Language DVD while working out on the treadmill (safely, of course.)

10) Record your experiences in a travel journal

This may seem a bit hokey, but if you set aside a specific notebook to keep track of interesting facts, brochures, titles of movies, and a record of your stay at home adventures, then when it comes time to take a real trip, you will have some pre-searched ideas on file. You have spent so much time learning about your destination of interest, you may as well keep a file of the most interesting stuff and personal experience notes to compare. It can also be the jumping off point for more enrichment—maybe you will find you have an affinity for a certain language, or the art works from a certain region. Travel, even stay-at-home travel, can be a mind-expanding, life-enriching experience.

Many of my overseas travel experiences have resonated with me long since returning from the adventure. Many of my interesting experiences from my stay-at-home travel have stuck with me equally. The world is a culturally rich place with many ideas of what constitutes joy, pleasure, spirituality, celebration, neighborliness, tradition, and home. We honor these cultures by entering them, whether through stay-at-home, or physical travel with the intent to learn about them and experience them with openness acceptance and peace.

There are many ways of course to make a stay at home vacation exciting and relaxing. These are just a few starter ideas. We are increasingly a global village. One can only help increase understanding by learning about the cultures around us. This can only help create a more peaceful world. When one has a true understanding of a culture, one is less likely to have intolerance of that, and other diverse cultures.

Resources:
The public library again is an excellent resource for language tapes, DVDs, books, and foreign language movies. It is free (unless the item is returned late) and allows one to sample many cultures without financial investment. You pay for this resource with your taxes, so help the environment and make use of it.

The Public Library in Minneapolis also has museum and adventure passes that can be checked out. These passes offer different benefits, some provide free passes for two people, others get you audio tours, or other benefits. They, too are a valuable resource especially during low points of the economy. Of course, if you have the means to pay, I am sure the museums prefer the income to maintain their offerings and quality.

The adventure passes allow one experience the twin Cities in its diverse offerings. I have lived in the Twin Cities all of my life, but only discovered many of the local museums after discovering the libraries adventure passes. The library only allows one adventure pass per week to be checked out.

PBS: PBS has some great travel and travel/food programming from various destinations. Their listings are available online. If you live in the Twin Cities, then the website is www.TPT.org. Travel shows are often played in abundance on TPT over the air channel 2-3.

PBS travel show recommendations:

Rick Steve’s Europe
Burt Wolf’s Travel & Traditions
Rudy Maxa’s World (Also, Smart Travels with Rudy Maxa)
Globe Trekker
Art Wolfe’s Travels to the Edge

Travel/Cooking show recommendations:

Perfect Day (Same Website as New Scandinavian Cooking)
New Scandinavian Cooking
Rick Bayless: Mexico, One Plate at a Time
Spain…On the Road Again

Glogg: Mystical Brew of the Nordic Gods

2011-01-04T10:13:00.000-06:00

Winter-y Landscapes always go well with Glogg.

What is it? I wondered. It came to my attention yet again while re-watching the Rick Steve’s Christmas Special—my sixth iteration. The name alone piqued my curiosity. I suppose my Nordic heritage may predispose me to the enjoyment of such things, but my similarly Scandinavian companion found it acceptable, but far less enjoyable. To be fair, she had drunk the tail end of my glass after it had cooled—a far different experience. Glogg is at its magical best when its hot and you, are cold.

Glogg has a hearty fifth century sound to it, although the English translation of it is mulled wine. Many of the European countries have slightly different variations in name, but most seem to generalize it to reflect the temperature, calling it simply warmed or hot wine. The term “mulled wine” takes a bit of the shine off this magnificent beverage. Mulling, by my thoughts, reveals more about the heating and mixing process rather than the alchemy in the pot, so from here on, this soul-nurturing beverage will be referred to only as Glogg.

Its Nordic origins run parallel to frigid temperatures and the winter snows. It is sourced in earthy, hearty spices, citrus, and your choice of local alcohols and juices. I prefer to think the ingredients are measured and combined in mystical quantities in a copper kettle, stirred with a Viking oar or broadsword over a bonfire, deep in a Scandinavian forest.

Glogg is heavenly the moment it touches one’s palate, and earthy once it becomes intertwined with one’s senses. One’s body becomes saturated with warmth and clarity. It feels as though this is, all at once, what winter can be, and makes you glad to your core to be a part of it.

So why haven’t I had this elixir before? Why did I only learn of this drink from watching travel shows rather than through familial cultural experiences within my own heritage? I shouldn’t have needed to look it up on Wikipedia and dictionary.com for this article. Surely, anyone who has watched “It’s a Wonderful Life” is familiar with the scene where Clarence the Angel, third class, orders a Mulled Wine, but beyond that, it seems to have faded as a Christmas—or even a winter tradition in the United States.

Maybe the Glogg recipe was lost during the long voyage of my ancestors to America. Maybe in the pursuit of the American dream, its importance was downplayed and eventually drummed out of families. Maybe the spices and ingredients reserved it, in the early days of settlement, for only the well connected and rich.

Other traditions have remained. My family still eats lefse, krumkake, herring (sadly relinquished during my vegetarianism,) and many other pickled items used for sustenance during the harsh Norwegian winters. So what happened to Glogg?

My family came, in-part, from several of the Scandinavian countries, so the name or memory of the name may have been lost in translation within the tree of my intermingled grandparents, great an greater. Glogg (or its English translation) isn’t a rare drink, but its importance and impact may have lost cultural favor when our Scandinavian ancestors attempted to acculturate to American values. Maybe its just a misunderstanding of a drink perceived as passé and somehow not in keeping with the industrial or information ages—possibly a long slow trending away from the past?

Unless one has Glogg in the home during festivities, I would guess one’s exposure to it is limited. I can only think of a handful of times when I have even heard the English or one of the varieties of Scandinavian terms in any holiday discussions. While it may be excellent as a traditional drink savored during the holidays by a select few, I personally am going to try to re-integrate it into presumed traditions possibly left by the wayside in my families historic journey to the Americas.

As global warming exposes us to more frequent severe weather events, I find myself hunkering down more—enjoying the home interior and its warmth. Exploration and enjoyments move inward to a perceived spiritual depth, created in part by 30 inches of snow-induced semi-hibernation and this horrible economic downturn. Minnesotans have long had hearty practice in the enjoyment of winter, but as winters become more extreme, maybe a return to some ways of the old country are worthy of re-integration.

Make some Glogg, buy some Glogg, or just enjoy saying the word Glogg. It was the name Glogg that garnered my interest. By all means, include Glogg in your life during harsh winter months. If its not part of your heritage, then take advantage of the recipes on the internet to adopt it as your heritage. All you need is a cold climate, a warm stove, and coffee cup. If we made Chai tea and double café lattes a daily tradition—both acculturated beverages from other parts of the world, we can sure make some room for Glogg in the home front after skiing, sledding, or even driving on a particularly frigid day.

Notes:

Glogg, in the forms I saw, were bottled in wine bottles, and strongly resembled wine in appearance. Glogg is meant to be drunk warm from traditional Glogg cups, but a coffee cup does just fine. I found it best consumed when heating enough to fit in about half of the coffee cup—a full cup, in my opinion, is too much of a good thing.

Paintings: Coke and Santa at the American Swedish Institute

2010-12-13T09:41:00.000-06:00

There is an extra great exhibit this year of the actual oil paintings used for many vintage Coca-Cola Santa advertisements. When I first saw them at a distance, I thought they must be prints (assumed in part because one wouldn’t imagine such a large collection of original coke advertisements in one space.) When we got close enough to better view the images, to our surprise, the majority were original oil paintings. The exhibit is displayed in two rooms of The Turnblad Mansion, one large and one smaller room. If you are into Coca-Cola history or advertising, or just have fond memories of these ads, then I would strongly recommend you see this exhibit. It put me in the holiday spirit. I rarely drink soft drinks, but found I had a craving for a cola when I was in the gift shop. Vintage advertising apparently still works on me.

The American Swedish Institute is a great visit, whether for the architecture, the sun-room (personal favorite for soaking in the winter sun), the glass exhibit, the special exhibits, or the annual “Nordic Christmas” Exhibit. Whether Swedish or not, it’s a great place. While I recommend paying the entrance fee since its well worth it and it supports the operation of the institute, if your circumstances prevent such support, complimentary admission passes valid for two people are available at Hennepin County Library locations on a limited availability basis to H.C.L. and Minneapolis Public Library Card Holders.

Visit The American Swedish Institute website for more information on dates, times, and length of the exhibition. The American Swedish institute is located on Park Avenue in Minneapolis, Minnesota in a beautiful historic mansion. Ample parking is located in the south lot.

The American Swedish Institute
2600 Park Avenue, Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA 55407
Telephone: 612-871-4907

8 Pre-Trip Tips: Camera Selection for European and City Travel

2010-10-05T07:46:00.000-05:00

A small castle in the Bretagne region of France

If you would like to read the complete article, please visit my photography blog at www.fahrmannphoto.com.

1) Start your camera search well in advance of your trip. Cameras can be quirky. It is better to be familiar with your camera so you can make it secondary to the trip itself.

2) Take some memory cards with you to the camera store and shoot some test photos prior to purchase (most often this will need to be done in the camera store.) Compare the test photos with each other on your home computer and choose the camera with the images you like best. Make sure to make a variety of images with a variety of settings.

3) Stay at or below 10 MP (megapixels) when choosing a small point and shoot with a small image sensor. Too many megapixels in a camera with small image sensor can make for more image noise and lower image quality when photographing in low light (higher ASA)—it’s a quantum physics thing.

4) Choose a camera with a 24mm or 28mm wide angle zoom lens if you are going to cities with small streets and great architecture—or skyscrapers and wide streets. Wide angle lenses are also great for sweeping vistas and landscapes. Cameras with more moderate wide angle of a lens (i.e., 35mm or 38mm) will prove frustrating when trying to include the elusive church spire while standing in the narrow street below it. You will also appreciate it for monuments such as the Eiffel Tower.

5) Select a camera with a moderate telephoto end of the zoom range that extends to somewhere in the 90mm or longer range. This can be useful for shooting villages and detail scenery when up in the mountains. The telephoto end (any focal length greater than 50mm) of the zoom range is great for close-up portraits as well. If you are going on safari and want to shoot primarily wildlife, then you need a more serious camera. If you want to do it with a point and shoot, then get one with the longest telephoto you can find.

6) Take your new camera out several weeks before departure and shoot photos around your neighborhood to hone your photography skills and fine tune your understanding of how to adjust your camera. Try to visit areas in your town that will encompass the range of places you will encounter in your travels.

7) Bring several memory cards instead of one large one. Bring something on which to back up the memory cards or have prints made at a local photo hut and send the prints home via the post office.

8) Carry an extra charged battery for those extra heavy days of photography or those days when you forget to recharge the night before.

Stockholm Surprise—Labor Day Weekend

2010-09-09T17:30:00.000-05:00

Traffic was brisk—parking was only available on the edges of town that normally boasts a population of 97. The four blocks of downtown Stockholm were packed nose to tail with cars. All I could say was “wow” and “I can’t believe it.” There weren’t a ton of people walking the sidewalks, but if one stepped into the local businesses, there were people eating, shopping, chatting, and enjoying their visit.

If you read my previous stories about Stockholm, you might get the sense that it’s a sleepy town on Lake Pepin in Wisconsin—My previous visits were midweek and off season. I often included a disclaimer in my reporting about Stockholm’s tourism traffic since I thought there might be disparity in what I saw. This trip, on Labor Day Weekend, has revealed a surprising explosion of visitors to this now business-burgeoning vintage village.

Stockholm has been a pleasant surprise with each of my return visits. It is as though each visit has slowly brought me closer to a true picture of the town as I test the outer boundaries of its tourism influx. While I reported in my first article that many businesses were for sale during the start of the recession in 2008, I can now say it is a very resilient place with new businesses popping up at a remarkable rate, seemingly governed only by the space available in its historic buildings.

I have a long history with Stockholm. I used to vacation there with a friend and his family in my youth. It was nearly a ghost town back then—a handful of businesses lined the streets and many buildings stood empty, acted as storage, or as homes. Stockholm went through a long period of revitalization culminating in this moment on the cusp of full gentrification. Its location, I suspect, keeps it somewhat hobbled as a three season destination, but the amount of business undoubtedly transacted in those seasons is enough to keep the town humming all year long.

I wanted to get a new sense of this town—the weekend version of Stockholm that seemed so appealing from my recent weekday visits. I went this time to show my significant other the town, see some parts of it I have never seen, and to taste the pie from the Stockholm Pie company. I misjudged the town on many levels. I thought there wouldn’t be much for the vegetarian to eat—I was wrong. I thought parking would be readily available—I was wrong. I thought the town may have declined since my last visit—I was really, really wrong.

Since most all of the buildings along the street are now retail businesses, I was able to see many of the interiors that were formerly impenetrable. I was previously limited to my imagination as to what resided within these treasure troves as I walked passed them on the lonely streets in Stockholm’s distant past.

We started at one end of the street and worked our way down—one store at a time. First a new bric-a-brac store, next a bookstore with antiques, then an antique store with a front entrance for the upstairs and a rear entrance for the lower level. With each store, I saw a part of Stockholm denied to me in my youth—a new view of the train tracks, a new understanding of the interior architecture, a long held private residence with a slanted staircase, now open for business. I was transported from the Stockholm of my youth into this new place, a vibrant and transforming place, showcased within most every business I visited.

The more we walked, the more we wanted to experience. I had my list and my companion, hers. I wanted to see the house where I used to stay and I wanted to taste the pie at the Stockholm Pie Company.

We stopped into the Stockholm Pottery and Mercantile so I could finally get a review of the transformed home’s interior as remembered from my youth. It seemed much smaller than what I remembered, but I was able to give a brief personal history tour to my significant other. I even was offered the chance to tour the upstairs where I used to sleep, but declined for reasons that are mysterious even to me. Maybe personal history is best revisited in small doses.

It was strange to visit a cabin of my youth that has been transformed, re-purposed, and segmented. The beds, dining table, and big cast iron stove were gone to make way for pottery display and sale. I didn’t visit the kitchen, I didn’t see the upstairs. I did see the basement—a place I rarely, if ever, visited in my youth. It was enough for now, but on my next visit, I may try for more.

The Stockholm pie company was as advertised. Its retro look befit its tiny space—a long hallway from the front entrance—perfect for the undulating line of people that seemed to fill it in waves. The pie was great--homey tasting with excellent ice cream. It was good earthy comfort food and it disappeared fast.

We stopped-in, mid-afternoon, in time to witness the majority of pie choices listed as unavailable—eaten by our touristic predecessors, I suspect. My companion and I shared a sampler (two smaller slices) of two of the remaining desert pies. I liked the Chocolate Pecan the most, but the Sugarless Apple was a unique combination of apples and tiny white grapes (or some sort of pre-raisin-like berry) which I also enjoyed. The Chocolate Pecan was heated, the apple wasn’t. I might have liked the apple even better if it were heated.

There are only two places to sit in the pie shop—one near the registers and one near the entrance. I wanted to sit near the entrance, but the line extended right to the door. We took our pie outside to a nearby bench—the only one unoccupied at the time. We did a bit of impromptu word of mouth advertising for the shop at the request of inquisitive passer’s-by.

Filled with pie, we ventured to the park to see the Lake Pepin waterfront locations filled with campers, tents, and RV’s. I wanted to show my companion the boulder jetty and the pre-relocation foundation of the house I used to visit (right on the shores of Lake Pepin.) The park is a lovely green space made interesting by the lake and its hordes of self-service campers during this tail end of the summer.

We finished our day with the intent of dinner at the Bogus Creek Café & Bakery prior to departure. We examined the menu but then noticed the time. It was about 4:45 and the Café closed at 5:00 so we decided against extending an already long day of service and cooking for its' staff. We were pleasantly surprised to read the wide variety of vegetarian friendly options on the Bogus Creek Café menu and have chosen it for our next Stockholm trip lunch stop—assuming we can get on the road a bit earlier than we did this time. The Bogus Creek Café has some nice courtyard seating options for a very relaxed dining experience augmented by the sound of bubbling water—I presume this tiny creek is that for which the Café was named.

Il Gatto, Minneapolis: Figlio, but with a much better menu and much worse napkins

2010-08-24T08:55:00.000-05:00

Service Ranking: 11 of 11
Food Ranking: 8.5 of 11

I am still working out my ranking system, but as a tribute to Spinal Tap, my reviews are based on an 11 point scale.

Opinions and Ramblings before the Review

Il Gatto, as I understand it, means “The Cat” in Italian. It is the refreshed name for a restaurant formerly called Figlio, which was a long-standing, trendy, marginal quality, expensive restaurant with an excellent location in Minneapolis. Figlio, as far as I can find on the web exists no more, and Il Gatto is a grand improvement for the much lauded location on the corner of Hennepin and Lake Street.

Cats, as a species, are not an association I personally make with good food and fine dining, but in Uptown Minneapolis, it may be just the right hook to draw in trend-hungry young Uptownies and weekend wanna-bees with modestly fat wallets.

Uptown holds itself as the city’s rule breaker although it seems to be in a long slow process of gentrification. Anything that is slightly edgy or hip plays well. I am a former Uptown resident and insider, who now can only provide an outsiders observation—I no longer have the pony tail, uptown address, or cheap silver rings. With my residency past, I can hardly be critical of Uptown. I am, however, thankful, I never did get any tattoos—I only embraced the easily reversible trendiness’s.

Unappetizing restaurant names, while not ubiquitous, somehow work in the Uptown area of Minneapolis—a short walk down any of the streets will provide a taste of the cultivated flavor of the place. Uptown does have plenty of great restaurants with normal names as well—some of my personal favorites for value and quality are the French Meadow Bakery & Café and Chang Mai Thai.

In keeping with the spirit of Il Gatto, another nearby trendy Uptown restaurant called Chino Latino (owned under the same “umbrella” company as Il Gatto) tried billboards advertisements a few years back along Lyndale Avenue that implied a menu through which one would chance food poisoning. Another billboard suggested one might end up eating meat from an animal that may at one time have been pet or pest.

Their media and creative advertising package never really worked on me—in fact, quite the opposite. I was obviously not their demographic, nor was anyone to whom I showed the billboards. It must have worked on many others, though since Chino Latino has built a strong following. Il Gatto, at least as a name, held about the same curb appeal for me as Chino Latino, but their menu looked very promising and contained a few vegetarian-friendly dishes.

The last time I was at Figlio was prior to the Calhoun Square’s sale and remodeling. The Figlio menu wasn’t very vegetarian friendly—I seem to remember having super expensive, unremarkable, bland noodles with a bit of olive oil and black pepper as my entrée. I am pretty sure it was a dish made vegetarian only at my request. One might have hoped for a more inspired creation from the kitchen especially considering the prices Figlio charged back then.

It has been a while since I last ate at Figlio for obvious reasons, so my recollection may be slightly inaccurate—the point of it being, that I generally didn’t jump for joy when someone suggested going there, and often actively tried to change the restaurant destination when a with a group of people. Figlio had been in business for a long time, so they may have provided a good meal on occasion to the less discerning or at the very least it was a trendy place to be seen in a great location.

Il Gatto: The Review

Il Gatto, in stark contrast to Figlio, served a decent meal to my pleasant surprise. The food tasted fresher and more inspired than I remembered ever receiving under the Figlio moniker, and there were several vegetarian options from which to choose. The noodles at tasted fresh and hand-made, along with the entirety of the dish—a much better match to its hip location. It remains a place to be seen, but with much, much better menu offerings that make the prices seem more reasonable.

I could tell the pasta was freshly hand made, and I thought it tasted good. The Ravioli Pomodoro dish had a defined separateness about it—I could taste each ingredient and component, but there didn’t seem to be any unique harmonies among the ingredients—just freshness. I’m not adding the restaurant to my favorites list, but I will be more likely to go willingly if a friend or family member suggests it for a meal. I was pleasantly surprised at the quality and diversity upgrades to the menu—the location as “formerly Figlio, but with a new name” has now been removed from my personal association with “places to avoid.”

There weren’t any vegan entrées that I could find, but there were four Pizza’s and 2-3 Pastas (depending on their gnocchi specials) that would work for an ova lacto vegetarian. I had the Ravioli Pomodoro ($15.00) and my companion with whom I shared meals had a Linguini Con Pesto ($13.00). Both were good, but I was definitely more favored toward the ravioli. The Linguini Con Pesto, however, was an interesting combination of pasta, garlicky pesto, new potatoes and green beans—good Italianesque comfort food when you need it.

The service was outstanding—our waitperson was very effervescent and kind—she provided just the right amount of attention and was well versed on the menu. Service really can make a big difference in the experience of a restaurant. Plates were cleared quickly by an army of helpers and our conversation felt unrushed and uninterrupted.

So, now to the only unpleasant surprise of the meal—the napkins. Several members of my party were wearing dark colors—the basic uniform of Uptown. The napkins, in keeping with the casual-trendiness theme, seemed like low grade rags that one might buy in bulk at an auto or cleaning supply store. They weren’t tattered or dirty, just cheaply made. They left so much white lint on my clothing that I no longer could keep the napkin on my lap or get it anywhere near my shirt. The napkins might have been less a problem had they also included a lint brush at each table. Instead, the entirety of my party had to try to brush an inordinate amount of white cotton lint from our clothing using our hands—very ineffective. While it was a minor inconvenience, it is not great to leave after one’s meal covered in white fuzz balls and cotton shards. Don’t avoid the restaurant because of it, just be aware of it to keep yourself lint-free if you have other destinations, post dining, on your roster.

All in all, it was a pleasant experience. The wait staff were the highlight, and the food took second billing, but it was a super-vast huge improvement over its days as Figlio.

This review of Il Gatto Restaurant was based on one afternoon meal experience in which I tasted two different items on the menu. Four people were in attendance at the meal, and all seemed generally pleased with the food and very, very pleased with the service. If I find myself at the restaurant again soon, I will update or add to this review if necessary.

Il Gatto is located in Minneapolis at the intersection of Hennepin and Lake Street in the Calhoun Square Shopping Center. Their menu can be reached through this link.

A Taste of Thailand—Nice, If You Can Get It

2010-08-02T08:59:00.000-05:00

Our table, unencumbered by food, with other patrons in the background.

Restaurant Review By Aaron Fahrmann

Every once in a while, I enjoy Thai-ing one on (insert fake-sounding chuckle here.) A friend who works downtown told me of a place that he had eaten a few times that had fantastic Thai food, but sometimes the service was a bit slow. Both were dramatic understatements to both his and my surprise on this visit. I thought slow, by American lunch standards, might mean we would have a half an hour to eat out of an hour long lunch. This would, however, turn out to be a lunch of firsts—the first time I didn’t leave a tip and the first time I had barely enough time to get to my car before the parking meter ran out.

We met for lunch at the Taste of Thailand on 7th Street near Hennepin in Minneapolis. I was a few minutes early so that I could get a table before the lunch rush. Also, if as my friend had said, the service was a bit slow, at least we would get a jump on the ordering process. My friend was going to try to get there a bit early as well. His lunch hour was exactly that: one hour.

I usually park a few blocks away instead of using a parking ramp—as a blog writer and fine art photographer, I try to keep my expenses low. The parking meters, as is my usual habit, seemed the way to go. Indulge me a bit here since the parking will be important to the story.

I put in enough money to cover me for an hour and 20 minutes—I thought this would give me an extra seven minutes in case lunch went a bit overtime, but I figured my friend’s normal lunch schedule would keep us on-time per usual. The walk to my car was about three minutes if I walked quickly, but the parking monitors in Downtown Minneapolis have been known to watch the parking meters run out while they are printing out the ticket. I have seen it happen and personally could not afford the extra expense. I even took extra time to make sure that my car was perfectly parked—First Avenue has some bizarre parking meters that sit atop the curb, but about three feet from the place where one actually parks—opposite of a painted-in bike lane. In essence, cars look like they are parked in the middle of a driving lane. I had forgotten about this when arriving downtown, and for a second sat behind a car wondering why it wasn’t moving.

Water was brought quickly to the table with a slice of lemon—nice touch and I didn’t even have to request it. I had plenty of time to peruse the menu which was extensive. I was pleased to see that they had several vegetarian selections, well marked with a special flower logo.

The atmosphere was nice—in fact I felt a bit underdressed wearing shorts, but there was no dress requirement that kept me from being seated. The prices seemed reasonable for the quality of food we anticipating, based on my friends recommendation. They were primarily in the $10-15 range for entrees—my entrée was $10.50.

We placed our orders shortly after my friend’s arrival. We talked, drank water, talked some more, drank some more water, and talked some more and drank even more water. Thirty five minutes later, we were still talking and drinking water, but our glasses contained mostly the meltings from the ice. We talked for another five minutes and I decided to make a quick trip to the restroom—atmospherically also very nice, classy and clean.

I arrived back at the table to my meal at about 12:50—forty plus minutes after we ordered it. My meal was luke-warm upon my return from the very brief bathroom trip. I was so hungry and concerned about being able to wolf down my lunch before my meter ran out that I didn’t even get to ask my friend how his was. Mid meal, I had to break from my blur of eating activity to ask for the bill so that I could pay it and get out of there in time to beat the parking police—it was the first time in my dining history I have left absolutely no tip. It was in part due to the inattentive and extremely slow service, and part because I didn’t have the time to do any calculations in my head before my meter ran out.

I am always a generous tipper since my mother was a professional waitress. I suspect my actions were similar to what she would have done in this situation—although in this case she would have left a penny. By leaving a penny, you let the server know you aren’t cheap, just displeased. I considered leaving a tip out of guilt, but then since my meter could soon cost me a lot more money, I took the easy route and crossed out the tip and rewrote in the billed amount. If I had more time, I would have even tried to negotiate down the meal price due to displeasure with the service and the food. If I wasn’t so hungry and out of time, I would have sent it back to be reheated. I didn’t have time to take my leftovers and I didn’t have time to enjoy my food.

Two women who sat near us, and who had ordered before us, complained about the wait as well. When their food finally arrived, they had to ask for to-go containers. I made a cursory visual sweep of the place and it seemed that no-one contemporary to our arrival had their food delivered either. When ours was finally delivered, mine was barely warm while others who arrived well after we had ordered, had visibly steaming food in front of them. I suppose since I was wearing shorts and carrying a camera, I might have looked more like a tourist—unlikely to return for another meal. I am not a tourist, but yet I am still not likely to return.

Until they work out their staffing issues and speed up their kitchen during lunch, I would certainly never go there when time is at issue, and would hesitate even when time wasn’t an issue. The food that I inhaled had very tasty vapors, but it would have been much more enjoyable if it were hot, and I could have chewed or savored it as well. I can say that it was made with very fresh and tasty ingredients—the peanut sauce was excellent with just the right amount of spice and the rice was fluffy and nice. I would have really liked to savor it since it seemed to be well and carefully crafted.

The service was barely service based on American expectations, although the three moments of interaction (one of which was when I was desperately trying to quickly pay the bill) were kind and pleasant. Our water glasses were only refilled forty-five plus minutes later when the food arrived. No one checked in on us, no one had a chance to ask us how the food was, no one apologized for the lengthy wait.

For a downtown restaurant who most likely gets a lot of lunch hour traffic, ignoring the lunch schedule of the traditional American office worker when you provide lunch service in a busy part of town is just plain bad business. I realize that the service is possibly based on a culture of quality, but unfortunately most patrons downtown are living under the crushing expectations of American business time constraints.

Currently, unless you are taking a two hour lunch (common in many other parts of the world), I would not recommend Taste of Thailand for your noon-time meal. If you have the time and are mentally prepared for the wait, then by all means try it. If the food arrives hot and you can eat it leisurely, then I would guess it would be a fantastic experience. And, if you do go, spend the extra money on a parking ramp—you never know how leisurely your lunch might need to be.

Taste of Thailand
11 South 7th Street
Minneapolis, MN 55402
612-333-0082

Sigma 70-200mm f2.8 II APO EX DG Macro

2010-07-29T14:48:00.000-05:00

Motorcycle Street Portraits - Images by Aaron Fahrmann

The day I got this lens, I took it out for a spin. Many of the consumer reviews I read of this lens were either love it or hate it depending on whether one received a “good copy” or a “bad copy.” I was blessed with a good copy—if such a thing truly exists, and can only rave about it.

I wanted a fast zoom lens so I could get increased focusing speed when using a 1.4x converter attached and have auto-focus assist even with a 2x extender attached—something just not possible with f4 lenses.

I used to own the Canon 70-200mm f4 lens (non-IS). It was a great, but kind of funny looking L series lens. I would rate it as top notch for image color, focusing accuracy and precision. It’s a lightweight field lens—very nice image color and excellent sharpness, very quiet, weather sealed and works with the Canon 1.4x and 2x Extenders. Canon really nailed it with this lens, but alas, an f2.8 zoom replacement was calling me.

I was a Canon snob at the time, but my bank account was not. I decided to look for an alternative lens options and came up with the Sigma 70-200mm f2.8 lens. I thought I would use it as a transition lens as I saved my pennies for the Image Stabilized Canon 70-200mm f2.8. I am no longer saving for the Canon because the Sigma is just that good. I previously avoided Sigma products completely prior to buying this lens due to inconsistent reviews. It appears that, like any lens company, they have successes and failures—this lens was a huge success in my eyes.

It is a great lens, but does tire one’s arm a bit which is to be expected for the amount of glass and metal incorporated. It is about the same weight as my former Canon 24-105mm f4 IS L lens was (about 3+ lbs), but since its longer, it feels heavier. The Sigma does seem to have a slightly heightened degree of chromatic aberration in back-light, peripheral field of view conditions over Canon L glass, but they are equally sharp—the Sigma might even have a bit of an edge in sharpness. Canon L glass has a slight color warmth advantage over the Sigma. Chromatic aberration, on any lens, can be reduced a bit by underexposing 2/3rds stop for bright objects, then making additional chromatic adjustments in Adobe Lightroom. For the most part, the chromatic aberration is really a non-issue, and right in line with or much better than virtually every lens on the market currently.

Some things about this lens that surprised me—I could hand hold it and do some really cool panning shots. If you look on my photography website, the majority of the motorcycle shots were done with this lens. It is not image stabilized, but once again, its fast and accurate autofocus more than make up for the shortcomings of the f4 image stabilized lenses.

Most people are afraid to shoot their lenses wide open due to quality and contrast losses experienced at the maximum and minimum apertures of their lenses. I have had some pleasing experiences in this regard. On the one hand, when shooting street portraits for a project, I shot wide open with fantastic results—excellent portrait-level sharpness and just the right amount of contrast. I shot several hundred images wide open and noticed no resolving power issues, i.e. excessive, or for that matter, any softness. I even bought a B+W softening filter in case this became problematic.

It is a very quiet lens—I was impressed that it was nearly as quiet as the Canon L lenses. The focus was fast and for the most part, very accurate. The lens doesn’t seem to perform differently when using servo mode on my camera—the lens seems to be in constant servo mode whether you need it or not, which can be a bit of a pain, but also makes one less setting I have to change on the camera body when my subject matter changes. Servo is definitely useful with the Canon L lenses however. Since getting the Sigma, I now have my camera parked in the AI focus mode when using auto-focus.

The zoom and focus rings are right where one would expect them. The zoom and focus are internal so the length of the lens is static. The manual focus ring feels like the old days of manual-only lenses—just the right amount of resistance for accurate fingertip focusing. The AF/MF (auto focus, manual focus) switch is big and easy to find when one needs to switch quickly between manual and auto. It is located on the upper left side of the lens when mounted on the camera—near, but not exactly in the same position as the Canon L telephoto lenses. The Canon L switches are smaller, recessed, and often a bit harder to switch quickly especially when wearing gloves, but have the added benefit of being water resistant. In reality, unless you are shooting in rainy conditions regularly, use a rain sleeve or a plastic bag over your lens and get the Sigma.

If you are a klutz and enjoy dropping your camera in water for brief periods of time, then the Canon might be a better option for you. I have done this only one time over my 23 years of photography, with a Canon L Lens, and fully recovered thanks in large part to a Sharp-cut Canon Filter over the front element.

In general, I have gotten by with non-water resistant lenses for a long time, even when shooting in the rain, just by consciously and frequently wiping down the camera and lens with my shirt. If the rain is really coming down hard, then I either work quickly, find shelter, or break out a plastic bag and a rubber band. Kata makes an excellent SLR rain cover that allows full access to the camera and controls when one is exposed to harsher weather conditions, but I never seem to have it with me when it starts raining. I works best when you know you are going to shoot in rainy conditions. It has clear plastic where you need it and elastic arm holes for access to the camera. I have had one for two years to date and never used it—but it has been carried several places where I might encounter heavy rain conditions.

The only drawbacks I have found with the Sigma lens are the size and weight—neither of which are deal-breakers or can be helped on a professional lens without going to plastic optics designed for smaller sensor cameras. The lens commands attention when on the front of your camera which can be advantageous in some situations while disadvantageous in others.

I like the Sigma’s black color better than the off white on the Canon L lenses—no need to get a sleeve to camouflage the lens when shooting nature. The Canon L lenses, however, probably perform better under intense heat and sun conditions where a black lens can get hot. Excessive heat might affect the internal performance of the lens, but my money says that the engineers have worked out the tolerances for the majority of conditions most professional and advanced amateur photographers will experience.

The Sigma 70-200mm f2.8 II APO EX DG Macro is a fantastic lens. At less than 2/3rds the price of the Canon glass, it is a worthy substitute unless you really need the weather seals. Fast, accurate, and quiet auto-focus with minimal hunting ensure more success in the field when shooting moving targets. I use it for portraits, senior portraits, fashion, sports, and nature photography primarily, but it is a versatile lens for a wide range of journalistic and artistic photographic needs.

User review: Tamron SP AF 17-50mm f2.8 XR LD Aspherical IF Di II

2010-06-30T10:18:00.000-05:00

Plusses: Lightweight, sharp, fast and accurate AF, good build, tight tolerances, not flashy looking

Minuses: Noisy AF, not sealed, mild barrel distortion, but impressive considering the sensor size for which its designed.

The lens I used for this review is designed for APS-C sized sensors, which on Canon APS-C cameras, have a 1.6x cropped frame from standard (24mm x 36mm) 35mm film size. The 1.6 is the multiplication factor applied to the lens focal length to calculate the actual focal length based on 35mm format equivalences.

This lens is available in many other branded lens mounts including Canon, Nikon, Pentax, Minolta, Sony, … which may have slightly different crop factors.

If you are APS-C shooter looking for an excellent wide to portrait zoom lens for a lot less money than the Canon L lenses with comparable quality glass, the Tamron SP AF 17-50mm f2.8 XR LD Aspherical IF DiII (not image stabilized) will handle your needs admirably. The Tamron is a lightweight and versatile lens with fast, accurate focusing, and constant aperture throughout the zoom range. One can use this lens for fashion, portraiture, senior portraits, landscapes, and even street photography. It makes an excellent lens to have in one’s urban travel photography arsenal. It is a joy to carry.

It is a straight and simple maximum aperture f2.8 lens with professional quality optics and remarkably tight tolerances for a plastic composite-body lens. I have no experience yet with the lens’s durability performance in tough remote environments. If you work often in such environments, you might consider buying two of the Tamron lenses and carry one as a backup—its still cheaper and lighter than owning one similar focal length Canon L zoom lenses and wouldn’t take up that much extra room in one’s camera bag.

I tried this lens as a move to save on weight and increase light gathering with a faster maximum aperture over the Canon EF 24-105mm F4 L IS. I sold the Canon 24-105mm lens shortly after trying the Tamron lens—it was just that good. The Canon was better built (if metal, heft and weather sealing are your needs or hot buttons) and has image stabilization, but with the Tamron’s size, weight, and APS-C advantages, it has become the go-to lens for everything in the wide to portrait-tele range. It is so light weight, one doesn’t need image stabilization. One can, with practice, handhold a camera at 1/15th of a second, and with more practice, sometimes half that shutter speed (barring a medical condition or muscle fatigue.)

The lens has beautiful bokeh (pleasing background blur when shooting wide open) and is a lens no one will want to steal—its just not an expensive or impressive looking lens. For a serious lens, it kind of looks like the kit lenses that come with the cheaper SLR’s. It is about the same size as the Canon 85mm f1.8 if memory serves me. If your ego is tied up in the size or flashiness of your camera gear, then its probably not the lens for you, but if you want great performance, then keep reading.

It is a great lens to keep on the front of your camera—no need to worry about lens creep as one often has to contend with on the Canon 24-105mm F4 L, plus it has a lens locking feature that I personally have never needed to employ—I haven’t had any lens creep. The lock might be useful in shipping or airline travel. My former Canon 24-105mm F4 L had lens creep after one week of use and required a high degree of finger skill and strength to restrain it when shooting up or down—it didn’t have the lens lock.

While the Tamron is significantly noisier when autofocus is engaged than the Canon L, it focuses more accurately and faster than the 24-105mm ever did or could on a crop frame body—even in bright light. I would guess this is due to the lighter weight of the lens, in addition to the faster aperture—the Tamron’s focusing motor has a lot less work to do. This isn’t a supremely fair comparison, but considering the Canon 24-105mm L lens is almost three times the price, it’s a comparison worth noting. The Tamron in this instance has a 1 stop advantage over the Canon, but for $800.00+ more than the Tamron, one might expect some reasonably fast and accurate focusing on the Canon lens especially with the L moniker and fancy red line that tells the world you are a professional, or can just afford expensive lenses. I also used a Canon 24-70mm f2.8 lens for staff work and was often equally underwhelmed by its focusing performance, although the focus was a bit faster and more accurate when used with the full frame 5D body on which it was mounted (I suspect due in large part to the full frame sensor and corresponding larger focus/metering areas. As a side note, I personally preferred the Canon 24-105mm f4 for its extra range and size to the Canon 24-70mm 2.8.

I was a die-hard Canon L Lens snob with the exception of my former non-L Canon 10-22mm lens which was a great APS-C dedicated lens—it was sharper, and in my opinion better (once again) than the 17-40mm f4 L lens when mounted on a crop frame camera. I have since sold all of my L lenses and regret selling only two of them—the Canon 300mm f4 and the 1.4x extender. Canon, in my opinion, is stronger in the long prime lenses than they are in the wide angle lenses, but they have really stepped up their game with the 10-22mm lens.

Close focus ability is another strong suit of the Tamron 17-50mm lens. While this isn’t technically a macro, it’s a great lens to move in wide and close—closer than many of the nearly equivalent full frame 28mm lenses out there. I love getting really close to my subject and blowing out the background with this lens. I think this is a byproduct of the APS-C sized sensor in combination with great design and the wide 17mm end of the zoom (which translates into about 27mm in 35mm film format parlance.)

No lens is perfect, but this one has kept me increasingly happy with each use. It is a moderate range zoom, and while one might prefer to have perfect rendering at the wide end of the lens, there is a slight bit of barrel distortion which is only visible when one is working with a lot of frame edge verticals and horizontals. Keep in mind that this is very minimal barrel distortion for the focal length and barely even requires a mention because, in my opinion, the Canon L wide zooms have more pronounced, albeit slightly more pleasing distortion (the 24-70mm f2.8 L lens is also 4mm wider). None of these comparisons are side by side or technical, but rather experiential, based on my extensive professional and personal impressions of the lenses during use and in post production. Look to other reviews if you want to get into nitty-gritty comparisons.

Depreciation in monetary value is of course a concern with compatible technologies, but a small one. The Canon L lenses will depreciate a lot less over time. The compatibility brands such as Tamron, Sigma, and Tokina are going to depreciate much faster and be worth much less when the time comes to list them on eBay. When I sold my Canon L lenses, I got top dollar. Some were bought used, and sold for nearly what I paid for them even after three years of professional, but gentle use. When and if I ever sell the Tamron lens, it will be worth a much lower percentage of my initial investment (unless it becomes as legendary as its shirt-tail cousin, the Tamron 90mm macro.) These lenses, despite being stellar photographically, suffer from the mere fact that they are not Canon L brand lenses.

If you are looking for a great lens with constant aperture, reliable autofocus, and minimal autofocus hunting, this very well may be the lens for you. If you are going to accidentally immerse your lenses briefly in water or heavy down pours from time to time, then maybe the Canon L lens of similar zoom range is a better choice. For me, right now, this is the best lens in this zoom range for the APS-C cameras I have ever used.

I used to have people interrupting me all the time when I was making photographs with the Canon L lenses because they look professional and attract more attention—now, I photograph equally well, but with many fewer interruptions to my work. I love it and highly recommend it to APS-C sensor sized camera owners.

Additional Note:

My experiences point to better lens performance on the wide to normal or wide to slightly telephoto zoom range when one chooses APS-C specific lenses for APS-C cameras. This, I suspect, is due in large part because they are designed and optimized specifically for the smaller sensor size and focus points. I used to think that using the L Lenses allowed the smaller sensor cameras to crop to the optimal portion of the focus circle in the more expensive lenses. This is true, but there seems to be an associated sacrifice in auto focus performance since the mirrors and metering takes place in a smaller area as well.

Another of my favorite lenses for crop frame Canon cameras:

While I don't let such things color my reviews, if you buy these lenses by following these links, I earn a commission to support my blog.

Excellent Post on Photoshelter about Customer-Photographer Relations

2010-06-29T14:43:00.000-05:00

In addition to the excellent Photoshelter Blog post (linked below), I would like to add some thoughts.

I used to show my fine art photography work in public a lot, but over the years have had many problems with visitors photographing my work without permission. While I can educate them on copyright law one at a time, I thought I would use this forum to expand that education.

All in all, stealing time or taking a photographer's images (or words) without compensation is bad--photographers and other artists need to make a living from their work. Copying images from a website, scanning, or photographing another photographer's work is copyright infringement and in essence, stealing their intellectual and creative property.

When one is viewing any work (photography, painting, sculpture, etc.) at a show or art fair, one shouldn't photograph it unless one has the express written permission of the artist. Artists put a lot of money and effort into their creations, often without having a lot of money to support their creative efforts. If one likes an artwork enough to photograph it, then maybe its better to give the artist who put all their time, effort, and personal resources into it's creation, a pat on the back by buying it.

If a person were to steal something from a vendor selling clothing, then they would be considered a shoplifter and thief. The same applies to works of art--and any uncompensated images appropriated without the permission of the artist.
One may be dismayed by copyright markings across my images on my blog, but its really just my attempt to keep theft to a minimum and earn money from huge amount of time and money I have personally put into my craft and the resultant imagery (and blog writing).

Photography is more expensive now than it has ever been--even since the days of film--software, computers, storage, and camera gear are all more expensive. Its not just a matter of a push of a button. Composition is king--and a comprehensive understanding of light is of equal importance. I have been a photographer for 23 years and I still learn new things all the time. The camera is just a tool to create the work regardless of its technical advancements.
This blog post from Photoshelter says a lot.

Excelsior, excelsior!

2010-06-16T18:51:00.000-05:00

We were going to go east to Stockholm, Wisconsin, but the weather report predictions ranged from dismal to scary. Heading southeast, according to the local weather channel was akin to walking into the eye of a tornado while taking numerous lightning strikes to the nether regions. Neither I, nor my traveling companion, wished to risk it, so we went in the opposite direction, with my optimism leading the way since it was raining the entire drive. I renamed the rain sprinkles as sun drops to lesson their impact on our optimism—they were, after all, very small and barely wet. I attempted several times to will the weather with optimism, and it seemed to payoff.

We arrived in Excelsior, Minnesota on this rainy early June afternoon and by the time we had found parking, the rain had stopped, leaving behind stifling 95% humidity—the type normally reserved for mid August.

Since our travel itinerary had changed, we made some quick work of internet searches interspersed with bursts of personal grooming to meet the world on our terms. We discovered some activities that sounded interesting, but in our haste and my poorly made assumptions, missed a few significant travel details.

Excelsior is the location of the Streetcar Museum and the recently resurrected streetcar boat. I say resurrected because the streetcar boats were sunk into Lake Minnetonka when the ubiquitous streetcar system was replaced by our current stinky, characterless, and inconvenient bus service. I say this only because Minneapolis once had a fantastic streetcar based mass transit system that was later rumored to have been ripped from the town by bus, auto, and oil interests. The Twin Cities now has a lot of resulting urban sprawl that most likely wouldn’t exist at its current extremes without the prior removal of the streetcar system.

The mass transit system in Minnesota is gradually getting renewed and restored by the recent addition of light rail. Former Governor Ventura, in one of his lasting contributions to the Twin Cities, made the first light rail lines happen—I didn’t vote for him, but I was glad that he took this project to the mat for necessary transit revival.

I was excited at the opportunity to take a ride on one of the original streetcars and take a cruise on the restored streetcar boat. We organized our trip around the boat ride, but later realized after asking a few people that our Friday visit was going to be devoid of vintage mass transit. The streetcar boat cruise and the Minnesota Streetcar Museum were only open on Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. The website hinted at this, but it was unclear enough that I thought it should mention in my article. I presumed the streetcar boat was every day of the week, and if not, I presumed it at least ran Friday through Sunday—obviously, I was wrong. The streetcars also do not run in the rain, so visit on a sunny day if the streetcars are your goal and check their website for start and end dates—they only run seasonally. The Hennepin County Public Library has Adventure Passes that can be checked out for the Streetcar Museum. I am not sure what discounts they afford you since we never had the chance to use ours.

Vegetarianism in smaller towns is often a lifestyle challenged, but we prescreened a few restaurants on the internet that might have vegetarian friendly selections. We came up with Biella, which was closed during lunch, 318, which we couldn’t find do to our rushed preparation, and the Hazelwood Grill which we also couldn’t find for the same reasons. We instead drove around the town center a bit and just barely happened to notice a place that advertised itself as a lunch spot as well as antique shop. We decided to look on the menu.

We entered through the front door into a small area packed with antiques and patrons. The patrons were soon seated, and we asked to see the menu. The staff at Antiquity Rose were very kind and helpful, even pointing a few things out on the menu that we could eat when we mentioned we were looking for vegetarian fare. There was a Veggie wrap with cream cheese that was big and tasty as well as an egg salad sandwich with lettuce and tomato. I had a delicious Arnie Palmer (1/2 lemonade, 1/2 iced tea) that was, along with the soft drinks, bottomless. The egg salad was tangy—just like I like it and the Veggie wrap was very tasty. The service was great.

The atmosphere of the restaurant was particularly interesting. Here and there, throughout the restaurant were hanging white paper sales tags and stickers—I saw them on chairs, wall hangings, stoneware pitchers that lined the walls and even one on our table—the doily beneath the sugar dispenser was for sale. We sat at a pinkish red, maybe a deep salmon colored Formica table with chrome trim from the 50’s or early 60’s. Only a few of the tables and chairs in the restaurant matched, and the walls spoke of the country antiques and decoration that I used to see when visiting my cousins on their northern farm.

The part of the restaurant in which we sat was, what I can only assume, the converted former porch of this vintage house since there was siding along one wall. If you like an interesting eclectic atmosphere as much as good home-style food, I recommend this little restaurant masquerading as part antique store. Hardwood ceiling and carpeted floors—it would have been nice to see the original hardwood floors which I presume were hiding beneath the carpeting. I thought the multigenerational vintage décor and the food were well worth the visit and, I would definitely return. It is not a hoity-toity place by any stretch of the imagination, but it was the type of place that I enjoy visiting for a unique real food dining experience specific to the small town in which it resides. Our shared bill with drinks was less than $25.00.

Prior to departure, we were offered a decadent looking desert tray, but chose instead to travel back down the road to the high-end patisserie we originally deselected for lunch called Patisserie Margo. I enjoyed an excellent tasting and rich Flourless Chocolate Dome. It was solid chocolate and was shaped like a mushroom cap on a gold foil cardboard. My companion had a puffy chocolate croissant. They turned out to be excellent complements to each other—the richness of the chocolate dome could be offset by the flaky buttery-ness of the chocolate croissant. The treats were excellent, but the croissant was affected a bit by its Midwestern locale. There was no suffering Frenchman toiling for years on perfecting the recipe and techniques—this is knit-picking though. In other words, it was an excellent croissant, but I have had some that were better in France and Montreal (my favorite patisserie in all my travels was the Patisserie Nancy in Montréal’s Notre Dame de Grace.) Still, for the Midwest, it was a top-notch croissant and there was none of the associated airfare or travel headaches.

The Flourless Chocolate Dome was perfectly rendered and could have only been made better by a hot cup of coffee, which on our visit was entirely inappropriate for the August-like humidity level. The Patisserie Margo also served sandwiches and quiches, which was part of the reason we initially considered it for lunch. We may try the sandwiches on our next trip. Our two treats, and a shared iced tea came to about $10.00. Very nice atmosphere and lovely outdoor seating was available.

When on our hunt for lunch spots in or near the downtown in Excelsior, we walked by Haskell’s Wine and Spirits, which we thought was a fancy liquor and wine store (akin to the Minneapolis branch store)—but the one in Excelsior apparently serves food and drinks like a bar. Surprise-surprise. We only realized this later when we walked past it a second time to visit the lakeshore. We saw a number of people sitting in the outdoor seating once the humidity had dropped to a more reasonable level and the sun had peeked its head out.

We walked the towns shops on Water Street since our boat trip and streetcar rides were not going to happen barring some act of vandalism to gain access. We peaked our head in an interesting and authentic looking antiques store called The Country Look in Antiques. It was packed with well selected antiques—it was easily the best antique store we went into based on my personal preferences. It was well ordered, displayed, and packed with quality pre-information age wares from several different dealers. Not a lot of frills or finery in the setting, but there was a nice balance between selection and walk-ability—a true antique store. I thought many of the other antique stores in town looked more boutique-ish which for me is of little interest, but I know there are those for whom this is a preference.

The Country Look in Antiques had several small niches here and there filled, but not overfilled with antiquities. I generally look for cameras when I go into these stores—I was impressed with the quality of the selection. My companion generally searches out props for her still life oil paintings. We both found items we wanted. As with most antique stores, it was packed with stuff that could keep one engaged for a long time.

We re-parked the car near a cool little barber shop on Water Street that had a stuffed beaver among other trinkets in the window. We walked passed the barber’s doorway to a shop that looked narrow from the sidewalk—not necessarily architecturally narrow, based on the size of the store, but narrow by the parallel shelves of floor to ceiling stuff on either side of the entrance—it reminded me of the show called “Hoarders,” but more organized and with retail purpose. Every space was maximized for density. We initially noticed the place due to a cat and dog pair that seemed to be regulars. We walked passed, but later returned. Never have I seen so much stuff in one compact space. There were antiques, used books, used magazines, small packs of facial tissues, Minnesota hats, tiny lampshades, vintage looking signs—you name it, they probably had it somewhere. It was so overwhelming that we barely looked—too much of a good thing in my humble opinion. It wasn’t the type of store you browsed. I would guess they have their regular clients and do well by the amount of time they seemingly have been in the location, but its not a place for anyone but the die hard collector looking for an illusive treasure, or a pocket size package of facial tissues.

As our last stop for the day, we walked through the ordered chaos of vendor preparation and sat along the shoreline. Excelsior, at the time of our visit, was getting ready to host its annual art fair near the lake shore (June 12-13, 2010). Artists were busy setting up their tents, transporting their works, and looking to the sky from time to time, hoping for peeks of a steadily glowing orange ball on this rain-predicted weekend.

There was a beautiful view from atop a small hill where we sat and watched the waves crash on the beach and the boaters boat. Excelsior is well worth the visit, and its close to the Twin Cities—the perfect daycation with plenty to do even when the boats and streetcars are stowed. And if you want a longer stay, there is even a bed and breakfast on Water Street at the edge of downtown.

See more of my photographs of Excelsior by visiting the Air and Travel Gallery on www.fahrmannphoto.com

Streetcar rides: www.trolleyride.org
Streetcar Boat cruises: www.steamboatminnehaha.org
Antiquity Rose (Lunch place): www.antiquityrose.com
Pastisserie Margo, Excelsior (they also have an Edina location): www.patisseriemargo.com
The Birdhouse Inn and Gardens Bed and Breakfast in Excelsior (didnt stay here, but FYI):www.birdhouseinn.com

History: My Personal Stockholm Experiences in the late 70’s early 80’s

2010-05-21T15:52:00.000-05:00

The yellow house has been converted to a business, but was formerly the cabin to which I ventured many weeks and weekends in Stockholm, Wisconsin. The second floor window was my former quarters facing the train tracks.

My friend’s parents conversion van rolled slowly up the gravel driveway to my parents home--all decked out with mag wheels, custom prism jewel windows, a sleek sparkly brown paint job and swivel animal print front seats. I felt cool just getting into it. It was going to be my home for the next few days as we trekked an hour out of Minneapolis along the Mississippi to Stockholm Wisconsin for a camping trip in a field.

Stockholm was a small town in the middle of nowhere on the Great River Road near Lake Pepin. This place would eventually get into me—and get into me good. It was among many seminal experiences of my youth. Most, but not all of my memories of it, are particularly fond, but its uniqueness would draw me back there years later to rediscover my connection to it. When I was in Stockholm, I was constantly moved out of my suburban-raised comfort zone, and at that age, I needed it. Going back was an unnerving experience—I didn’t know what I would find or how it would make me feel.

I was 14 or 15 years old at the time I first went to Stockholm. My friend and I went to elementary school together, but lost touch when he moved further north to another school district. We reconnected when roller skating was having its rebirth in the 70’s. We hung out, became friends again, and eventually became “weekend brothers” in this small Wisconsin town.

My friend’s parents were among those whom I suspect were the priming catalyst for the more recent revival and gentrification of the town. They were among several families who started buying commercial and residential properties in Stockholm as their vacation cabins in the country. I was the fortunate beneficiary of many weeks and weekends in this town.

It was the quintessential small town in those days. The downtown area was (and still is) approximately four blocks square--in other words, one could walk from one end to the other in about 2 blocks, although the downtown area is kind of lower case “t” shaped as viewed from above. I thought of it as a ghost town at that time since one rarely saw anyone on the streets—and if one did, they were someone you knew. It had a single bar which served as a convenience store and pub to the locals and weekenders. I should mention that there was also a post office and a long-lived insurance agency which are, to my pleasant surprise, still in business to this day in their same locations. My experience of the town back then was more bar-centric.

The bar was called Bill and Mary’s River Road Bar and was owned by, you guessed it, Bill and Mary. It had only limited general store conveniences though--one could basically buy milk, bread, cigarettes and a few candy bars there. It was a bar to do some drinking for the adults, play some pool, and get the local gossip. Kids were welcome to attend with their parents, which I realize now is more an echo of the British Public Houses (pubs) which serve more as community living rooms than bars. The bar strengthened, and sometimes ripped the social fabric of the community depending on the amount of drinking that took place.

My friend’s parents eventually bought an interesting old country house near the railroad tracks--very near the railroad tracks. It sat about 100 feet from the crossing gate arms. My guess is that it was exactly the legally required distance from the tracks at the time the house was moved from its original location near Lake Pepin. Trains went by the house frequently throughout the day and night. I shared a frigid room with my friend at the time, which had a window overlooking the tracks. There was more than one room, but this was the only one that had potential for heat.

The house was painted white back then, but the trains, as you can see, still visit with the same frequency.

The first night we stayed there was dicey as we attempted to condition ourselves to sleep through train horns, shaking windows, and clacking box cars. The night trains were generally respectful of the town and only lightly sounded their horns in the wee hours of the morning. Amazingly, we did get used to it and could sleep soundly thereafter.

The house was the ultimate in basic living. It was built in the 1900's and apparently hadn't been updated much since it was built. It had basic electricity, installed post construction, throughout the house. The only other convenience the home held was cold running water to the kitchen sink. Heat was provided by a large metal wood stove that was installed the second or third week of my friend’s parents’ ownership in the dining/living room. If you wanted hot water, you stoked the stove and put a kettle on it. Our room upstairs had a floor grate (hole in the floor with a wide spaced grate covering it) to conduct the heat into our room—it wasn’t very effective. There was another room upstairs, but it was even colder than ours since it lacked a grate (according to my memory)—the reason, in addition to sociability, my friend and I shared the room.

The fall and winter months were brutal, particularly if one had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. The only local option beyond a chamber pot (I don’t remember if we actually had or ever used one) was an outhouse in the back yard. In a recent visit, I peeked in the back yard of the house and found the outhouse still standing. It looked from the outside as though it was well maintained. It still gives me shivers thinking about having to use it in the colder months. It was a good reason, however, to make a social call to a friend or visit the bar down the street for a candy bar. The bar owners even generously allowed us to use their upstairs shower during our longer stays. One learned to really appreciate a hot shower. At the time, the bar’s upstairs was an unoccupied apartment if memory serves me.

My teenage memories of Stockholm are at times a blur due to the passage of time and lack of attention I paid to them. Much of my time there was spent wandering the town with my friends, dealing with all the standard teenage anxieties, watching small town dramas unfold, and experiencing controlled bursts of youthful freedom. I am more interested in the place now as an adult looking backward. I am happy to have seen the interiors of many of the buildings in their pre-gentrification state, and I am happy to see the present day revitalization of the town. It is now a much nicer place than that of my youth, but I am glad to have been a small part of Stockholm’s history. I didn’t make any substantial contributions, but in a small town, its history is its people.

I value the time I spent in Stockholm. There are probably not many chances for a suburban boy, born into readily available modern conveniences, to experience some similarities to those who lived there in the early 1900`s. To live the way they had lived, even in just the lack of conveniences we take for granted, gave me a great appreciation for the luxuries we currently enjoy. Those wild stories your grandparents spin are all true.

See my previous article on this blog for more information about Stockholm as a present day tourist destination. Visit my website for additional images of Stockholm under the Air & Travel Gallery.

Stockholm, Wisconsin: Euro-midwestern Flair on the Great River Road

2010-05-06T18:50:00.000-05:00

Old Post Office on County Road J, turned Stockholm Museum

Do yourself a favor. When driving the Great River Road in Wisconsin, Highway 35, slow down and pull over in Stockholm. Have a piece of pie and a cup of tea; stroll through the art gallery, and walk the village’s many shops in this historic little town. Cross the train-frequented tracks on a free Stockholm Blue Bike and walk down to enjoy the views in the Stockholm Village Park—camp for the night if you please.

Stockholm’s a small place--Its current population is between 82 and 97 depending on whether you enter from Highway 35 or County Road J—the population signs were different. Stockholm is also the burial place of Gustav Johnson and his wives, marked “Wife 1” and “Wife 2.” These markers were made temporarily famous on the Jay Leno Show and are highlighted within the Stockholm Museum.

Gustav's Wives Marker in the Stockholm Cemetery on County Road J

Stockholm, not to be confused with the capital city of Sweden, lies on the lake border of Wisconsin. It was established circa 1851 by a group of Swedish settlers with big visions based on the name chosen for this small settlement. By American standards in the Midwest, Stockholm is a pretty old town. By European standards it is an infant.

Stockholm has become gentrified in its own way, starting with an odd revival about 25 years ago as suburbanites from Minnesota and Wisconsin began buying up vacant buildings as vacation cabin destinations. I have no hard data about this gentrification origin story beyond my being a peripheral player during its genesis. My friend’s parents owned a cabin in Stockholm at which I was a frequent guest. During this time, it was a sleepy farming community with empty storefronts and Bill & Mary’s River Road Bar as its major attraction. The bar has since closed and the building now houses J. Ingebretsen’s AV Stockholm.

There are about eighteen commercial buildings that have been re-purposed for a variety of different things from residential homes to commercial businesses since the time the village was established. It looked as though Stockholm was experiencing another turbulent period due to the recession since many of the properties in the town were up for sale when I visited in October 2009. A recent visit to the Stockholm’s Merchant Association website however shows the resilience of the town and its devotion to keeping Stockholm a viable tourist destination.

The town is laid out in a logical fashion--it makes me want to know it from the early settlement days. A brochure given to me by the bar tender at Gelly’s Pub & Eatery, the town bar, listed some of the interesting history of the architecture in the town. The most fascinating to me, of course, was the house in which I spent so many fall, winter and spring weekends—and the occasional week during the summers. According to this town guide sponsored by David & Linda Brassfield of Century 21, the house had apparently been built in about 1900 near the shoreline of Lake Pepin. I walked down to the shoreline and found a foundation that is still visible, but crowded with foliage. The house, according to the guide, was relocated shortly thereafter (due to flooding problems) to its current location near the train tracks. It was originally a residence and confectionery, then later a barber shop and restaurant, and apparently may have served as a brothel for a time.

Stockholm Pottery & Mercantile and Northern Oak Furniture, formerly a private residence with an interesting history

I believe the house sat vacant before my friend’s parents bought it. They, or possibly some other family (I have been out of touch for many years) kept it as a residence until 1990 when it was sold to become the Stockholm Pottery & Mercantile and Northern Oak Furniture. The house is listed as building 18 in the village guide. There are several other beefier publications sold through the Stockholm Museum that provide a more detailed history of the area. Local proprietors can help you with your Stockholm merchandise purchase since the Museum is unstaffed.

Many of the seasonal businesses in 2009 had hours geared to the times when tourism was greatest—Thursday through Sunday. Some of the businesses that now occupy Stockholm were closed when I returned for my personal reunion—it was either a Monday or Tuesday in October 2009. There were, however, plenty of businesses that were open all week long as well. Check the Stockholm Merchants Association website for current business hours and locations.

My objective with the trip was to re-ignite my passion for photography by documenting this place from the pages of my youth, and surprisingly, as it had done once before, the memories have created an interest in visiting yet again. I want to try the pie shop and peruse the book and curio store—even visit the current post office to buy some stamps. There are elements of every small town which make it special, and Stockholm is no different.

Stockholm has kept its architectural integrity in-tact and has a Euro-Midwestern charm. It has reliably held an arts festival for as long as I can remember. It seems to be a budding artist and craft community that is combining an interesting mix of the old and the new, the experienced and the young.

If you love vintage architecture, fine art, colorful towns, or quiet flair, then this sleepy hamlet with its revitalizations may be an enjoyable retreat for you.
I plan to return and hope to have even more to share with my readers.

Info: www.stockholmwisconsin.com

Notes:

Stockholm is located on the Great River Road near the Wisconsin/Minnesota border just across Lake Pepin from Lake City, Minnesota. There is no way to cross Lake Pepin from Lake City, Minnesota to Stockholm other than by boat or more practically, the thirty mile drive around one end or the other of Lake Pepin. If you are coming from Minnesota and want to keep your drive reasonable, make sure you have both your Minnesota and Wisconsin maps loaded in your GPS, otherwise it will make for an extended trip. I took the Lake City route and found it an enjoyable drive even for the extra distance.

When coming from Minneapolis, one can best cross the border from Minnesota to Wisconsin at Hastings or Red Wing to avoid an unexpectedly extended trip. After crossing one of the 3 potential bridges, take Wisconsin Highway 35. The drive is beautiful and single-file in both directions for the majority of the route. When you get to Maiden Rock, you have about six more miles to go. I also encourage stopping at the Maiden Rock scenic overlook if you happen to travel near sunrise or sunset.

The Stockholm Museum is located in the old post office near the Bogus Creek Café on County Road J.

Formerly The Merchant Hotel on County Road J. You can see additional images of Stockholm by clicking on this link and visiting the Air & Travel Gallery.

Work Abroad in London: Part V—Entertainment

2010-04-28T20:41:00.000-05:00

No discussion of London’s entertainment scene would be complete without a mention of an interesting place to drink and an interesting drink to drink. But London is a widely diverse culture with many excellent experiences to have. While I wont cover all of them, I will discuss a few highlights that I haven’t seen discussed in other travel venues.

The George

There was a bar on the south side of the Thames river called The George Inn. It was rumored to be a watering hole for the bard himself—Shakespeare, but I heard this rumor from another American whose source I can’t confirm. The Globe Theater was nearby, and so it makes some logical sense. At the time of my visit, the theater was being recreated and constructed—it even re-opened for business while I was there, but I didn’t create the opportunity to attend a performance.

Many of the pubs had their own brew of beer on tap. One of The George’s was called Flowers. It was one of my favorites during my London Experience, bar the name—not supremely manly-in title according to British preconceptions where size matters—pints for men, half pints for women. I really was not attached to the idea of gender associations with alcoholic products, but it seemed an important social marker in the pubs of London.

In Flowers, however, I figured I may have been tasting the greatness with which the bar was associated—it seems, after looking at their web information, they change their house brews every so often, but it was a nice romantic idea at the time and it was by far the best tasting beer I had in London. I returned several times for the beer and the atmosphere. I enjoyed the beer enough to remember its name after nearly 13 years. Whether the tale of the pubs former famous customer was true or not, it was definitely an ancient pub with ancient time-worn furniture--centuries of cultural-luminaries’ derrieres may have rested upon these historic hewn timbers.

Chaucer was another rumored to have done some writing in the pub as well (according to the website.) There were many pubs in London with history, but this one had a special feel to it. My friend, who introduced me to the pub and frequented it with me, also introduced me to a version of pool played there that included bumpers and small billiard balls, but also predated the form of pool as played in the USA. A bastardized version of it was brought over here as bumper pool, but beyond that there was little else similar in play. The tables were small and could easily fit into the semi restricted space of the seating area.

Slithery Booze Tales

Later in my UK experience, I came upon a drink with a drinker’s lore behind it. There is a drink in the UK called a Snake Bite. It is half beer and half hard cider and is very, very tasty. The bitterness of the beer in combination with the sweetness of the cider created a well balanced palate. The problem comes after drinking one. The rumor is that somehow the chemical combination of the two drinks creates a more potent alcohol concentration. Chemistry was one of my weakest subjects in college so I can’t attest to it’s truth. Anecdotally, however, I can understand how the idea germinated. This drink will knock your socks off—quietly. Cider, by itself, was apparently also viewed by the British as a drink for the fairer sex—I would guess there is some politics behind this—it is a potent, albeit sweeter drink. Combine it with a beer and it becomes a great tasting drink the sneaks up quietly to sink in its teeth. It is good for the budget too since one can only handle a couple pints of the serpents brew without compromising one’s ambulatory control. I may overstate this a bit, but trust me—its strong.

Organ Lovers

There used to be a show on public radio called Pipe Dreams. I used to listen to it on Sunday nights either in my office or on the road. It allowed me to create an appreciation of the king of instruments in classical music. Organ music is wonderful when removed from the traditional religious context where its accompaniment is the inelegantly joyous sounds as emanated from masses. Don’t get me wrong, I support the creation of joyous noises in any religion, but I search out something far different when I am listening for pleasure. The program opened my eyes to the differences between organ sounds and turned me at the same time into a bit of a organ music geek—its not something one generally, or ever leads with in conversation or admits publicly.

Now, to the point of the previous paragraph. If you are one who, like me, has an appreciation for the king of instruments, several of the churches in town offer organ recitals. Top notch instruments need to be played. Attendance is highly recommended. While I didn’t make it to many recitals, I am pleased to report that Westminster’s organ is nothing short of world class. While I appreciate the raspier instruments, the organ in Westminster delivered clean and beautiful notes which were in themselves transcendent. The instrument does not play itself of course, in this particular performance Ekaterina Melnikova delivered a marvelous performance with this magnificent instrument. She was accompanied by Alexander Karpov on the clarinet. If you are an organ music lover and in London, make a point of attending an organ recital, if not several.

Westminster is also really cool from a tourist’s perspective. If you want to see the tombs and memorials of many important contributors to humanity, look beneath your feet. Many tombs of famous people lie in Westminster, although technically not all are under foot. Darwin, Chaucer, and Dickens share this address with several markers so old that the plaques have been worn nearly smooth from centuries of the public’s footfalls and shuffling.

St. Martin-in-the Fields

St. Martin-in-the-Fields is, of course, another well known church for its organ music. I, however, went there for a performance of Mozart’s Requiem. St. Martin’s is another world class destination for music, and gets my highest recommendation. The concert I saw there was spectacular, albeit a bit humorous and rough in the beginning—the performance included a rare instrument called a flat trumpet which apparently was not getting along well with the person or persons who were playing them. The conductor indicated the instrument created some problems unique to its species. To, me, it sounded as though a small scuffle had broken out amongst the musicians, but it was just this trumpet’s protest of being played with respect to its rarity, I suppose. After the problems were resolved, the performance was one to easily remove and surpass any preliminary flat-trumpet-hiccups. I only remembered the incident it after reviewing my journal notes, and even then it’s a bit fuzzy. The performance highlights however are well remembered.

The concert wasn’t cheap. A rear nave ticket was 11 pounds (about $22.00) in 1997, but was easily worth triple the amount paid. I only wish I could have heard one of their organ recitals, but one always needs a reason to return to London in the future. The internet was in its infancy when I was in London, and the only way I generally found out about concerts was via flyer postings on the street. The church did have a postal mailing list one could get on for 3 pounds 50 back then to keep abreast of future concerts. I would guess the internet has replaced this service now.

Location Note: St. Martin-in-the-Fields is located kitty corner from Trafalgar Square and across the street from the National Gallery in central London, which is another must see destination for art lovers and culture seekers.

The British Museum

My museum away from home was the British Museum. I must have gone there six times and barely scratched the surface of their collection. My hostel was located in Bloomsbury near The University of London—only blocks from the British Museum. Unfortunately I have very few notes from those visits, but remember vividly the Lindow Man and the Rosetta Stone. The British Museum is centrally located and well worth one, if not several visits.

Greenwich Surprises

Synchrony is a really cool thing when one can engage the flow of one’s day. I had one particularly synchronous day when living in London. I had gone out the night before with some friends from work to The King Arms and Callahan’s and another pub I don’t remember. I had about 8 pints total that night (according to my notes—I still find it hard to believe) which was more than I can ever imagine drinking in the states. At the time, I was a devoted runner, and since we didn’t get back extraordinarily late, I got up the following morning and went for a run.

I had the thought about going to Greenwich while doing my run, but dismissed it until another hostel-mate of mine said she was thinking of going. A short while later, we were on the train. As we arrived at Greenwich and the Royal Observatory, there was the drop of the Royal Ball, a loud noise, sudden exuberance among a crowd, and the simultaneous release of balloons—I now presume 1000 of them. I would later learn that our chosen day to visit was the start of the thousand days to the millennium—Saturday, April 5th, 1997, at 1:00pm GMT. I had no idea, since to me, this number held little significance, but the timing of our arrival with the crescendo of the celebration was eerily convergent.

It was an odd celebration—There were TV cameras, people dressed in Star Trek costumes with full makeup. Access to all of the events and museums was free—except for the Queen’s horses (wrongly recorded according to my chicken scratch notes). It was actually the Queens House which was closed. The rest of our day in Greenwich was equally filled with coincidences piling one atop another. I wrote my master’s thesis in part about this kind of synchrony in conjunction with decision making.

Work Abroad in London: Part III

2010-04-21T18:34:00.000-05:00

New Job, New City, New Work Culture

I started off to my new workplace, making the best sense I could of the roads. I asked directions of kind strangers as I got closer to my new employer—this was my second experience in the differences between American-English and English-English. I see in retrospect my misunderstanding was embarrassing and ridiculous; Leicester Square is pronounced Lester Square, and Edgeware Road is referred to as “The” Edgeware Road even though my map just says Edgeware Road. I kept thinking I was hearing it wrong from the kind gentlemen who was helping me. I was hearing his response as Thedgeware Road. He finally pointed to the sign and pronounced it at the same time. It wasn’t that he was running the words together, I was just unaccustomed to hearing road names referred to with the word “the” placed before it when not part of the actual street name. Once I understood the difference, it became an enjoyable experience walking down Tottenham Court Road to Oxford Street and up “The” Edgeware Road to my new workplace among a hurried clump of well-dressed pre-work Londoners.

My new job was the best temporary job I have had in my many years of college. I was calling businesses to collect overdue invoices--much preferable to calling individuals at home for the same purpose. In businesses, you are generally working with accounting departments who are often just trying to keep-up with their workload or holding invoices for various reasons—far different from dealing with the desperate individual who is having money problems due to lost employment or horrible financial turbulence. I was able to use my foreign language skills in my new position on a rare occasion when conversing with a customer—a rare treat for me, but possibly taxing for the customer since my French had oxidized a bit. Most of the collection calls were well received and the people with whom I dealt were pleasant.

There was no way of tracking my individual collection successes, but I tracked my call volume on a sheet of paper figuring that it might be important some time down the road if I needed to present my productivity to management. American firms are interested in such things, so I presumed that British firms would be too—I think I was wrong. I was never asked for call statistics and never discussed my work with any management.

British work culture is much different than US work culture—I am sure I still don’t have a good handle on it, but I will share my impressions. At the time, I thought the day seemed to be primarily organized around tea and conversation with work sprinkled in-between. This sounds like a criticism, but its not—it was just my misunderstanding of the work environments dynamics based on my cultural misunderstanding.

In an American office setting, ideally one would arrive at work and begin working efficiently and productively until one took a fifteen minute break. There would be conversations here and there, but it was mostly organized around work, and if not, the boss would straighten it out in short order. There would be several meetings discussing ways to improve efficiency which by its nature decreased efficiency.

American efficiency is really a type of busy for the sake of looking busy and maintaining a status quo. American companies are also looking for more work for less money, which in my opinion is a type of self-defeating, unsustainable efficiency. American businesses have a hard time shaking this cultural status quo, but there are some forward looking companies emerging in 21st century work culture that realize that productivity includes happiness, recreation, and flexibility—but back in the 90’s it was rare.

British work culture, in my opinion, was a byproduct of a healthier interpersonal attitude based on mutual respect instead of power, domination and the illusion of forced efficiency. My co-workers in my office had a healthy respect and mutual admiration of each other that fostered a better and healthier work environment. I was only there for a few months, but they were a good few months.

My American frame of mind kept telling me that I didn’t want to get replaced, since I was a temporary worker and really needed the job. I worked extra hard according to ingrained American ideals to make sure that I didn’t give them a reason to let me go. This was the wrong move. Being liked, getting tea for your co-workers, getting reasonable work done and talking at the expense of “American idealized presumed productivity” was the real measure of success. Management respected its employees and gave them autonomy.

I got into the swing of things in the beginning, but worked hard in between the constant interruptions. Tea runs were seemingly constant—someone in the cube quad would announce that they were going to get tea and wondered if anyone in the cube section needed a refill. I was able to partially adjust to this one cultural difference shortly after figuring it out.

The British work environment, as I experienced it, is far less competitive and much more kind and cordial, yet very professional. Business is much more social, but genuine. In the nineties and even today, these qualities did not exist well in the American workplace since everyone was and is busy pretending to be busy, filling time, and stressing-out about looking busy. Americans associate being busy with success and The British seem to understand that not everything is an emergency that can be made better by lording over their employees. I only really understood many of these differences after recently reading a great book called “The Four Hour Workweek” by Timothy Ferriss. I guess this realization demonstrates the long term benefits of travel and work abroad experiences.

I have been reading the previous edition, but here is a link to the most recent:

Liquid Lunch Laments

My next cultural misunderstanding issues came on my first Friday of work when I went out to lunch at a local pub for socializing with my colleagues. Americans are OK buying a round for themselves and one or two other colleagues, but the British have made a stricter social order out of it. Each person in the group buys a round. I was neither accustomed to or capable of drinking 8-12 rounds over lunch without getting plowed, although I presume most people skipped rounds and just bought drinks for everyone else. I couldn’t afford to buy rounds for 8-12 colleagues since it was my first week of employment and I was a cash-challenged, work-abroad college student.

I saw a few people order appetizers to share, but very few actually ate lunch. Everyone was really nice and I enjoyed their company immensely, but I was making a temporary workers salary, it was my first week, and I hadn’t gotten my first paycheck—30+ pounds sterling (about $60) for a round was more than I had in my bank account or wallet at the time. Even if I only bought a round for myself and one other person, I would have been tapped-out. I bought my own beer and left the bar when it was gone, which was a really bad social mistake, but I had to do it. I didn’t do a lot of drinking when I first arrived in London for the same reason, and so initially was not accustomed to the strength of the beer either. I was buzzed after a single pint and got nothing else substantive done the rest of the afternoon which, in a strange way, probably cushioned the social blow of skipping out early—or at least my comprehension of its consequences.

There was a social stigma applied to the size and type of drink one had at the pubs. There were pints and half-pints. Half pints were for women and pints were for men. I learned this the hard way—yet again. During the aforementioned Friday liquid lunch, I initially tried to order a half pint to save money and be able to get some work done in the afternoon. One of my coworkers corrected me and steered me toward the pint for the sake of my manliness. At a later Friday lunch, I saw the same coworker order a half pint, but then watched him take the half pint glass and pour it into his previous pint glass—manliness preserved. It is an interesting trick used, I suppose, when one is reaching their limit and may still need to tend to a client in the afternoon.

Drinking over lunch was not uncommon in London. Most of my friends at the hostel shared similar work stories. My office was the most conservative of all of them in that drinks for lunch was a “Friday only” activity. One of my roommates had a job where the entire office went out for lunch every day and had drinks. She echoed the same sentiments as me—her second half of the day rarely involved any kind of real work since she was some degree of buzzed. She did a much better job fitting into her work culture and gained lots of friends. I have little doubt that she was able to stay for the duration of her work permit with plenty of flexibility in her schedule for impromptu travel.

I worked effectively and efficiently for the rest of my time in the collections position, never really grasping the social aspect was more important than work volume. It was only when I got the call from family in France with a long-awaited appointment date that I figured it out. I called the temporary agency and asked them if I could take two weeks to attend to some personal business in France. They weren’t happy—I didn’t expect them to be, but I had to take care of this business—it was an important part of my trip abroad. They said there was a possibility that I wouldn’t be able to get my job back when I returned. It was a necessary risk since I had waited about a two months for the appointment in France.

I finished my personal business in France and called the temporary firm for whom I worked from France to see if I still had a position—I didn’t. I don’t begrudge the British this, and I understand that if I hadn’t left, it may not have happened, but it was a cultural wake up call telling me to mirror my environment instead of transporting my cultural work biases into another culture. I might have been very happy working in business-to-business collections for the six month duration of my work permit. It was fun to come back to the office with a slight buzz on Friday afternoons—something that I couldn’t even do when I worked as a business to business sales representative in the US unless I could produce a receipt for a client lunch.

Part IV is already posted, Part V coming soon.

Work Abroad in London: Part III (forgot to post it but it does exist)

2010-04-13T18:26:00.000-05:00

I posted part IV, but it seems I forgot to post Part III. I was applying for a fellowship during the time I was writing part III and apparently forgot to upload it. Since I am not sure in what state of editing it was left, I need to review it before posting. I will have it posted soon, but it will be out of chronological order on the blog.

Work Abroad in London: Part IV

2010-04-13T18:14:00.000-05:00

Double-Decker London Buses

Generally when visiting a new city for a vacation, I take a touristy tour bus to get the lay of the sites to see. When I was in London, they still had the red double-decker city buses in operation and so I cheated a bit and just paid non-tourist fare and implemented strategic bus route selection. They were a great way to discover the city since, for the price of a standard bus fare, one could travel down some main thoroughfares and get an idea of the city’s landscape from a second story perspective. Double-decker buses may now only be used as the open air upper deck “Hop On, Hop Off” tour buses, which are much more expensive to ride and socially imply a tip should be left for the tour narrator at each “hop off.” If you do use a tour bus instead of a city bus, which now may be a requirement to have the upper deck experience, I would suggest riding it for the full circuit first, then choosing the stops you want to actually get off and see on the second circuit. Sometimes you can get off in one strategic location and see several sites. It takes more time, but will save you in tips and may save you from seeing a less interesting site over a more interesting site. Plus, if you nab a good rail-side or front seat, then you can keep it for the duration of the first circuit.

The bus service, while a great supplement to the subway system, was a much slower method of transportation due in large part to the traffic congestion. Traffic congestion is somewhat reduced in comparison with other international cities because London charges the drivers a fee to enter the city, which in turn makes city driving a type of implied wealth proclamation. It does make the city less congested and more eco-friendly even with the caste system it reveals. Since my caste was that of a work-abroad foreigner, I generally took the subway or walked in the mornings—one for the experience and the other in effort to be a timely employee. I only took the bus when I didn’t need transportation speed or when I just needed a lift for a block or two. This isn’t to say that they buses weren’t timely, they just felt slower. They were, however, a great way to relax on the days when I didn’t want to swim among the waves of pedestrian traffic on Oxford Street or participate in the rush-crush hour under ground. The buses became my personal respite from the pedestrian drama since I could perch in the rarely-occupied top deck of the red iconic buses. I suspect the upper deck novelty was lost on true Londoners except when lower deck options were depleted. I often had the upper deck to myself.

“Mind the Gap”—The Tube

For The Tube, AKA The London Underground, i.e., the excellent subway system in London, the phrase “Mind the Gap” has taken on a cultural significance of its own as a moniker of London’s public transportation. It is announced, most often by recorded voice, each time the subway train doors open. The tube has received a lot of coverage by other travel lovers and writers, so suffice it to say that it is an excellent means of transportation as long as you finish your journey before plus or minus 11:30 pm when many of the lines shut down. I think they shut down early because the pubs close early—around 11 or 11:30 if memory serves me—the clubs however stay open late—often 4 am. After that, a taxi or sidewalk-staggering is your best friend.

There is one thing about the tube which I found interesting. It was OK to drink alcohol on the tube—or at least it used to be. It was also OK to drink on the street if one so desired. Even though it was fine to do, I still wouldn’t recommend doing it unless you really want to throw off your own American culture’s trappings in legal, non-rebellion. I did it one time only and felt like I was breaking the law the entire time—I kept hoping that what I was told was true, but often wondered if I was misinformed. Americans view drinking on the street and on public transportation as not only illegal, but immoral—reserved for the bottle-in-a-bag crowd. The London experience is much different. While I can’t speak to how they morally view it, it is, or was acceptable behavior within the laws.

Walking in London During Rush Hour

My trip to work took me south on Tottenham Court Road to Oxford Street, and then north to Edgeware Road. I could have taken an alternate, less congested walk down Euston/Marylebone Road, but the few times I tried it were far less interesting. Each time I took the shortcut, I felt as though I had missed out on some amazing happening on Oxford Street.

Tottenham Court Road was a great road, but the real drama started on Oxford Street. Oxford Street had a constant flow of buses, taxis, and even the occasional mistaken car driver. Pedestrians jammed the street making one keep up with the flow of humanity—or else. I exaggerate for effect, but there really are a lot of pedestrians moving in a unified cadence. Its main attraction for me was the determined walkers that emerged every weekday morning in timely orchestrated cadence contrasted with the fair-like disorganized, crowd mobbed, ebb and flow atmosphere that erupted in during the evening rush hour return. Restaurants and coffee places were the domain of the morning, but electronics stores, occasional parades, and microphone-toting gadget-shillers were the domain of the afternoon. I remember one afternoon coming upon the Krishna’s smiling and marching in celebration down Oxford Street in the opposite direction as myself. One had little choice but to step aside and enjoy the parade. This is a city that really knows how to inform with its diversity those of us interested in people and interesting cultural experiences.

After making my turn from Oxford Street to the Edgeware Road, I was again on a slightly less traveled street than Oxford, but one on which clothiers and Hookahs were the primary form of sidewalk experience. I would walk past these people smoking their floor-standing pipes with fancy decoration, which to me looked like bong pipes for royalty. I was a bit naïve back then, but that is why I travel—to limit my personal misunderstandings of the world and become its better informed world citizen.

One distinct difference between working abroad and vacationing abroad: when working, one tends more toward the creation of some normalcy in their daily life to temper culture shock and ease the day to day experience of their new environment. Living and working abroad allows for one to have a great depth of experience not normally available to the vacation traveler. Conversely, when traveling for relaxation or experience, one’s mind is more prepared and willing to try spontaneous opportunities. One is often willing to incorporate many new impromptu things into a less rigid vacation schedule.

With all the millions of cool things going on in London, I availed myself of relatively few of them even though I was there for about 2 ½ months. Many of the experiences that I didn’t have in London involved the diversity of restaurants and infused cultural areas. I focused mostly the broader British culture since it was the primary international experience I was seeking, but I would strongly encourage well funded travelers to experience the cultural diversity of this and any international city.

Part V is coming soon!

Work Abroad in London: Part II

2010-03-24T13:28:00.000-05:00

Getting around London: Arranging my Work Permit

I needed to visit a government office to have my visa validated with my 6 month work permit duration stamped into my passport. I thought I would save cab fare by walking to the government office—it was within a few blocks of my hostel and I was jobless and woefully underfunded. I looked at is as an opportunity to get to know the city by foot. My pedestrian optimism was dashed as I discovered how difficult London is to navigate without a guide book or cab driver. Streets turn into other streets without warning and street signs were difficult to understand, or even see, for a euro-city newbie-foreigner such as myself. The streets intersected in ways one could never logically expect—no grid plan had evolved in the heart of this ancient city. Bewildered, I stopped at a nearby newsstand that had an overwhelming number of London street guidebooks and bought a nice portable sized one recommended by the shop keep—it was the best investment I made during my entire trip. I later learned that even the locals carried them for much the same reason as tourists. London cab drivers train for many, many years just to understand and memorize the complexity of London streets. The licensed cabbies are a valuable resource and get my highest recommendation for timely and efficient commuting.

I didn’t have any realistic chance of getting to my destination in a reasonable time without a street reference guide, no matter how kindly spoken some stranger’s directions were offered. I did finally make it, but I felt as though everyone on the street knew I was a foreigner. I suspect that my squinting in confusion at each intersection’s street names and slowly spinning in a circle repeatedly, indicated my “fresh off the plane” status. I recommend bringing lots of money for cab fare during the first few days or buying a quality GPS with accurate street maps. I had neither of these on my trip, but then again GPS wasn’t a commonplace technology in the late nineties. After the first few days, the tube and bus fare are quite reasonable and efficient for getting around.

Private Cabs vs. the Licensed London Black Cabs

Cab fare, while often out-of-fashion for my wallet’s tastes, was very affordable as long as one used a licensed black cab. I tried to use a so-called “private cab” for a trip that I knew from experience would cost about $6.00 (3 Pounds Sterling) in a black cab. The private cab guy, after we were underway, tried to charge me $40.00 (20 Pounds Sterling). The lack of divider glass, a displayed operators license, and an active, visible meter should have keyed me in when I got into the car that he wasn’t an official cab driver. I told him to drive me back to my start location and paid him nothing. My advice is that no matter what the situation, only use the official black cabs. They all look the same, are safe, and are licensed by the government.

Important Road Rules for the Midwesterner Pedestrian in London

Right of way for pedestrians in Midwestern American cities belongs to we, the pedestrians. If a pedestrian makes a bonehead move in the city of Minneapolis, the cars will at least slow down, blow their horn, or slam on their brakes to avoid hurting a pedestrian. I, as an American Midwesterner, expected that for some reason this pedestrian right-of-way sensibility would apply to the streets of London. It was through a close-call experience, as a car rounded a corner and nearly ended me, that I learned differently. Obey the walk signals in London. Don’t cross when the crosswalk says not to cross—ever. Car driving Londoners will not yield when the signal is in their favor, although they may honk to let you know you are about to become a hood ornament. I was fortunate to be the recipient of such a honk and was able to avoid becoming a statistic. It was a scary way to learn—I shared my experience with all of my fellow travelers at the hostel as a public service. Several of them shared similar experiences.

Standard Footwear vs. London Sidewalks

Cheap shoes worn by a foot dragger or shuffler are another no-no in London if you intend to experience the city on foot. The sidewalks are paved with square segmented pavers that are large; about 2-3 feet square, but often uneven. I would guess they are great for keeping repair costs low within the seemingly constant construction work schedule for London. The pavers could be easily removed by the tiny, toy-like back-hoes without disrupting the entire expanse of the sidewalk. The ease of repair was good for keeping the crush of pedestrians moving during rush hours.

If you are a foot-dragger, your shoes will be de-soled in short order by these very same pavers. Do as your mother instructed—lift your feet. Since I couldn’t train myself to do this within the first week, I was forced to buy new shoes. My original shoes had peeled-back enough that they could talk the talk as I walked the walk. Doc Martin’s shoes, which I bought at the Camden market in London, seemed to fix the problem. They survived the rest of my trip—even when I repeatedly tripped during my gait reconditioning phase. I didn’t have to buy another pair until two years later—long after I had returned home to the States. My Doc Martin’s served several purposes since they could be polished up nice to wear with dress pants—they are the ultimate travel shoe for the young urban voyager in my humble opinion. They are not great however in icy conditions.

Normally, when I arrive in a new city, my desire is to start exploring. I had to put that on hold while I got my documents in order and searched for work. I didn’t have a CV at the time, which was required even for temporary work in lieu of a resume. Fortunately, I had some previous resumes on a 3 ½ inch floppy disk that I had brought with me. I quickly reformatted my resume into a CV at a copy & print place across the street from the hostel, and went about my search for work. I speculate that a Curriculum Vitae is preferable for the English since the word is of Latin origin versus Resume which is of French origin. The French and English, while amenable, have some palatable mutual annoyances into which I shan’t delve.

Job Search: Retail Photography Associate

I had work experience in retail camera sales and was passionate about photography so I thought I would start looking for work in one of the many, many, many, many camera and electronic stores that lined virtually every urban street. I asked several stores if they were hiring which turned out to be a confusing question for both me the asker, and they, the recipients of the question. American English is not English-English. We have been separated by geography for almost three centuries which can do interesting things to a language. It would seem in England, the word hiring meant renting-out. Since many larger professional camera stores rented equipment, one can understand the confused looks I got when I was handing my CV to managers at smaller stores that didn’t rent professional equipment.

Temping-up the Job Search

I needed work fast and couldn’t delay employment due to communication errors on my part. I also needed a job with some flexibility so that I could travel for a couple weeks to take care of some personal business. I went back to the hostel and talked to my roommate who said a friend of hers had gotten employment through a local temporary employment firm. Money was running low, rent was due, I had no local social support structure. Rent was to be prepaid on a weekly basis as opposed to in the US where it’s a monthly expense so you had less time to arrange the money. In the hostel, if you couldn’t pay, you couldn’t stay. One’s salary in London was also paid on a weekly basis, so once one was employed, payment of rent became easy. I needed money quickly and the temporary office was able to place me right away with British Telecom.

New Clothes for Different Circumstances

I had enough dress clothes packed for one or two days of interviews, but not enough to carry me Monday through Friday in an office job with professional dress criteria. I originally planned to work in camera sales which required much less formal clothing— a casual shirt and khaki’s was the common uniform--sweater optional. Thankfully, in equal abundance with camera and electronics stores were clothing stores filled with boxes of overpriced polyester dress shirts. I was normally a pressed-cotton dress shirt and expensive tie guy, having been a business to business salesperson for several years before choosing a life of poverty, education, and travel. Now I was forced, due to economic necessity, to buy cheap ties and polyester blend shirts from the “three-fer” piles of discount intercity clothiers. Polyester shirts look cheap, but could be laundered, and wouldn’t require ironing—a luxury not afforded one in hostel living.

Part III Coming Soon

Vote for People's Choice Award on Photo District News Magazine

2010-03-16T07:49:00.000-05:00

Like the images in my recent Art-science Photography project called: Photographer-centered Non-linear Temporal Networks as Expressed through Street Portraits? Please vote for them on the PDN Faces Contest People's Choice awards. It can be reached by going to http://facesphotocontest.com and then typing "Aaron J. Fahrmann" in the Search Photographer Name box or, this link will take you there directly. Please vote soon--the contest is going on right now!

Thanks for your interest in these photos!

Street Portraits - Images by Aaron Fahrmann

Work Abroad in London: Part I (Late 90's)

2010-03-12T12:41:00.000-06:00

Departure and Arrival

It was a long flight, but I was a veteran international flier now. I had arranged my trip in a hurry compared to most travelers, but I left a lot more time—four weeks—to prepare for my departure than flights I had previously arranged.

The dreaded announcement, one that was typical for London, but atypical for my 2 ½ month stay, was spoken over the planes loudspeaker: “Ladies and Gentlemen, This is your captain. Gatwick and Heathrow are fogged-in and we will need to land in France. We will have to wait on the ground for the fog to clear. You will not be allowed to deplane due to customs issues.” I paraphrase a bit here, but the quote is substantively accurate.

We consumed two hours of hell-time sitting on the tarmac after 8 hours of cramped coach class flying. Its nothing compared to the recent experiences of tarmac bound passengers reported on the news within the last year, but it was bad nonetheless.

I was sitting next to a man who spoke English, but who was from rural Ireland. He spoke with the thickest accent I had ever heard. I understood only every fourth word he spoke, but it was enough to get the gist of his words. He told me he was from a town near Derry—the naming of this, and other towns in Northern Ireland were often contentious—the town is also known as Londonderry. His politics were clearly communicated. It was about the only thing he spoke that I understood, but I’m sure he experienced the same issues with me since our conversation stopped shortly thereafter.

The French offered us some sandwiches during our stay on the tarmac. The food offerings were typically French (at least in the late 90’s) with no vegetarian selections, but I was grateful to have the option of filling my stomach with just about anything after my long flight. Oddly, they didn’t offer a Camembert cheese sandwich which was a basic staple of most Parisian fast fare restaurants. I call it fast fare because it was good tasting, healthy food, but sold in street-side windows and carts—a far cry from American fast food.

I was faced with either eating the tuna sandwich or going hungry for an undetermined amount of time. I chose to forsake my ova lacto vegetarianism for this one sandwich to keep myself nourished. Ova lacto vegetarianism refers to the fact that I eat eggs and some animal products like honey and cheese, but generally nothing with a face—I write this for clarity since there are between 2-4 degrees of vegetarianism depending on with whom you speak. London, in contrast to Paris, is one of the most vegetarian-friendly cities in which I had lived at the time, although I know there are many more these days.

After two hours of tarmac life, we were once again airborne, my stomach filled with a thin layer of tuna, butter, mayonnaise, and white sandwich bread—and glad for it. The clouds had finally burned-off over London. The arrival of the Sun meant my lengthy international flight was about to continue for a short hop across the Thames and come to a welcome end.

I entered the terminal and approached customs. The terms of entry according to my visa stated that I was supposed to have $500 available to me when passing through customs, but I think I had about $300 as per my typical, under-prepared, last-minute budget travel. There was a slight risk of them turning me away and telling me to get back on the plane, but I figured since I already had my work permit and a reschedule-able return ticket that I could make it work. Most countries are not eager to increase the number of dependents on their social services, so a return ticket is a good-faith demonstration of your intent to eventually leave. The graces were in my favor that day. No return trip to the USA would be necessary for six months until my work visa expired.

Initial Lodging: The Hostel

In another rare move in contrast to my normal serendipitous travel preferences, I called for lodging prior to my departure from the United States to arrange my stay at a hostel on Store Street in London—I think the address was 31 Store Street. It was a long-stay hostel for the program through which I had obtained my work visa. I needed to have an arranged place to stay to enter the country on a work visa, but hostels are very much first come first-served establishments.

I took a cab due to my wildly excessive luggage and late flight arrival. In retrospect, I now firmly believe in Rick Steves’ packing philosophy. Everything you need should fit in a carry on bag. Whatever else you need, you buy it in-country. These days, his packing philosophy is further encouraged by checked-bag fees and liquid, gel, and toiletries bans. Even with regard to clothing for my long stay, I barely used 1/3 of what I brought with me. The hostel had washing machine facilities—and even if it hadn’t, there was a sink in my room to wash out necessities.

The cab dropped me off at the hostel a bit late in the evening. I was worried about my prearranged lodging since the door was locked and no one seemed to answer for what seemed like ten minutes. I seem to remember making a call from a nearby payphone to get someone to answer the door. Eventually, I was granted entry, only to find that there was no room at the inn—or rather, there was no room in a men’s room at the inn. I was placed in a room with three women. It was a fine solution and worked well. London is dense enough and expensive enough that these types of solutions were often necessary. In the late 90’s, a long stay hostel was about $500 per month to share a small room with three other people. My entire spacious one bedroom apartment in Minneapolis at the time was the same amount and I didn’t have any roommates.

Part II will be posted soon!

New posts coming soon--much writing in progress!

2010-03-08T20:41:00.000-06:00

More travel writing and product reviews are in the pipeline.

User Notes and Personal Opinions: The Panasonic LX-3 K versus the Canon G10

2010-02-22T13:56:00.000-06:00

As a user of camera equipment, I am constantly on the hunt for companies who listen to their consumers and craft equipment worthy of the photographers who purchase them. My style requirements are always tempered by usability and familiarity. In other words, if it doesn’t work well, then a cool looking camera is placed on the shelf (or returned to the store) as an art object and a real camera is put into daily service. I also have a limit on what I can spend for a pocket camera. In the past, I have been a fan of the Canon G series line as my carry-everywhere camera choice. It offers some great advantages for the professional, especially in its most recent user interface changes on the G10.

I have owned the G7, G9, and G10 cameras—there wasn’t a G8 camera. Canon consistently produced a camera that provided acceptable image quality for its size in combination with consistent advances that were requested by the customers. Canon has done very well with this. The G10 had most of the features that I love in a portable camera. With only a few exceptions, it was my favorite of all (see my previous Canon G10 user review). The G10 had one very big flaw: poor, and in my opinion, lower image quality than its previous G9 version at any ASA above 80. I decided it was time for a change of technology—something that had a better sensor, or at least utilized the sensor better, but that was in about the same price range as the Canon G series cameras. I chose my next camera based on a desire for better image quality and a faster lens for low light work—something I kept hoping for in the Canon G series cameras. Little did I know that this trade to the Panasonic Lumix LX-3 would come at significant workability cost. When the camera itself becomes a barrier to image making in the style in which one is accustomed, it can be tragic and extremely frustrating. The LX-3 became such a camera for me.

Street photography has at its essence, a degree of discretion. Leica cameras relied on this discretion with their long line of cameras designed around quiet shutters. I believe that even the current camera, the Leica M9 carries forth this tradition. While I would love to have one, at the present moment I don’t. If you have ever priced these out, you may understand my reservations. If Leica would like me to use their M9, I would, however, gladly accept a donation of one with 35mm f1.4 encoded lens. Instead, for a moment, I had the Panasonic Lumix LX-3 in Black. The color of the camera gives it the added designation of “K”, so technically it is an LX-3K. It is very, very close in manufacture to the Leica Digilux 4, but at a much more reasonable price tag. The LX-3 does have a very quiet shutter which is great, but does have an annoying, not so discreet function. When it is dark and the camera has difficulty focusing (I manually turn off the focus assist light), it flashes the LCD screen brightly which turns discretion into a bright announcement that one has just made a photograph and that the camera is on. I have not found any means by which to turn the screen off completely. My normal fix would be to put a bit of tape over the focus assist light, but this won’t eliminate the LCD screen flash. It’s due to the lack of viewfinder and in my opinion, poor design. The Canon had a much more discreet means of letting you know it was having a hard time focusing. It had two tiny lights near the viewfinder eyepiece. The only fix I can think of is one where I tape over the LCD which could adversely affect usability and resale value—two things that are of constant consideration for me.

Unprotected lens

The Canon G10 made the horrible move of changing their auxiliary lens adapter from one on which you could mount a screw in filter to one in which you couldn’t. While there are practical reasons for this with regard to the speed at which one can change lens adapters, for me it was akin to destroying the cameras speed on deployment. I don’t use the auxiliary lenses and I carry my camera with me everywhere. In the summer months, the G10 was on a long SLR-style strap around my neck. I kept the camera on at all times in case there was a moment in which I wished to create an image quickly. The problem arose when I scratched the lens shortly after purchasing the camera. It wasn’t anything that affected image quality, but it made me swear under my breath about Canon for the first time since swearing under my breath about the G10’s resolution issues. There were more benefits than detriments to the G10 though, and its usability remained high.

The Panasonic Lumix LX-3’s lens is even more at risk than the Canon G10. The problem is that the Panasonic LX-3 lens doesn’t have threads for a tiny filter (which should be a necessary addition to the next version of both cameras) nor an automatic lens cover when one wishes to pull the camera out of one’s pocket for a quick shot. The LX-3 lens also sits very close to the edge of the rim of the lens barrel which offers little protection—probably in effort to keep the camera small while offering a fast 24mm lens. It’s a beautiful Leica-specification lens, but its positioned to get scratched easily by the lens cap or other dangers unless one buys a adapter tube and puts a 46mm filter on it—at least this option is available. The Canon G10 and G11 cameras have this availability, but it’s offered through a secondary manufacturer. When the LX-3 has both the tube and a finder employed, it becomes useless in the winter months for quick pull out of the pocket candid shots.

Lenses on which one can’t install a filter and have no automatic protection have become a deal breaker for me. I almost never use a lens cap on my lenses—that’s why I use uv and clear filters. One can’t make a photograph through a lens cap. A secondary manufacturer has also stepped up to help the Leica LX-3 as well and have designed a segmented lens cap similar to the one offered by Ricoh. I have yet to evaluate these caps.

Viewfinder problem

There is no viewfinder on the Panasonic LX-3, but thankfully there is a hot shoe. I would never even consider a camera without a viewfinder, or at least the ability to add one. Aftermarket finders don’t match up well with the actual view from the LCD, but its serviceable The external finder offered by Panasonic for about $170.00 is a huge benefit, but from what I have read on many, many of reviews prior to buying the camera, they made the finder with only 24mm frame lines (35mm standard parlance) that are not full frame coverage. For my purposes, a huge improvement would be to add 35mm and 60mm frame lines to accommodate the zoom. A second important feature would allow one to step the zoom to these frame lines. Even if it didn’t have a stepped zoom, it would be nice to be able to designate custom zoom step settings under the custom menu. I tried saving custom zoom settings several times without success,
I have created a workaround for this, but its not a great solution. I bought an Argus turret viewfinder (some may prefer the non-obscuring frame lines of a non turret finder) and matched the LCD view as close as possible to the focal length of 35mm. I have discovered that the Panasonic shows the zoom position on the LCD screen during zooming and the 35mm-matched position is just slightly less than ½ of the optical zoom range. The Argus Turret finder is perfect size, but doesn’t provide anything close to a super wide angle view. At the 24mm length, I approximate, and at the 60mm end of the zoom I use the 50mm turret finder setting which is remarkably close to the 60mm lens.
I tried the often recommended Petri Tele-Wide (I think Yashica’s Tele-Wide is similar or the same) which was supposed to provide a close to 24mm (full view outside the 37mm framelines) and 57mm frame lines view. After trying the finder, I found it closer to 28-30mm. I think I would just end up trading for a Russian Turret finder with 28, 35, and 50mm settings. While 24mm is nice, I am fine with 28mm and the extra room for cropping. I have also used the Helios 35, 85, 135 bright line finder and really didn’t like it. There was too much guessing on the long end of the Panasonic LX-3 zoom range where one needs framing accuracy most.

Adobe Lightroom and Panasonic LX-3 Raw Files

The Panasonic LX-3 and its proprietary raw files are fortunately handled under the auspices of an Adobe Lightroom 2.6 raw file conversion. One can use Panasonic’s included Silkypix software for the camera files, but the image quality is no better than using Lightroom for reading and converting raw files by my evaluation. Mine was but a cursory evaluation for all of you pixel peepers out there who might challenge me on this.

A brief Sidebar about Lightroom 2.6 and upcoming 3.0

I was really glad Lightroom worked well for reading the LX-3’s raw files—it was one of the few moments that Lightroom wasn’t an exercise in frustration for me. I have an image library in excess of 200,000 images (with backups 400,000+) and lightroom apparently wasn’t designed for this since they are planning to charge me for a third time for the upgrade to 3.0 as a means to solve what I consider bugs of the previous versions. They did this in Lightroom 1.4 and they are doing it again with 2.6—Very frustrating.

The Panasonic Menu—a brief review

I am a technology savvy person who generally never has to touch a camera manual to get the camera to do what I need it to do. The LX-3 is a big exception to this. I found myself on more than one occasion using the users manual to wade through the clunky counter-intuitive menu pail of functions. I think they have resolved many of these problems on the Panasonic GF-1 which retails at over twice the price, but for the relief from frustration it would be well worth the extra money. I only was able to play with the GF-1 for a short period of time at a camera store, but found it more intuitive than its older, smaller sibling. The availability of the larger sensor, interchangeable lenses, 40mm 1.7 lens with filter ring, and the larger size all made me wish I had chosen it instead as my carry-around camera. Once again, if Panasonic wants me to use the Lumix GF-1 with 40mm 1.7 lens, I would be happy to accept one as a donation.

The Panasonic LX-3 Size

I have large hands. The LX-3 is not designed for people with large hands. The Canon G10 fit well in my hand and had a great grip, but was even slightly too small in my estimation as well. It was a good tradeoff since it was winter coat-pocketable. The LX-3, while nice looking, is too small—until you add the viewfinder and lens adapter which makes it too bulky, unwieldy and barely pocketable. It would be nice for me (and I would guess the engineers for the extra space) to make a more square camera that filled out the depth of the lens protrusion and provide a solid, well designed one handed recessed rubber grip. I realize that I am but one photographer searching for a solution to his own photographic needs, and do not represent the population of users at large.

The main thing I have learned about the Panasonic LX-3 is that if you are a prolific photographer and want to use this camera as a carry around, be prepared to buy a lot of accessories, or just save your accessory money and buy the GF-1 complete with finder. The following is a list of accessories I would have to buy to set this camera up for my shooting needs (I haven’t bought most of them, but based on my current frustration level they would include):

- 45 to 46mm Adapter Tube (or glue a small step filter ring on the end of the lens so it can still retract (not recommended unless you really know what you are doing and can afford to replace the camera if it goes awry))
- A quality, coated 46mm filter
- LCD Flip Cover or a piece of cardboard taped over the LCD screen
- A Wide angle viewfinder (the Voigtlander 21 and 25mm finders have been discussed at length on other sites. I would lean toward the Russian Turret Finders. I don’t like ambiguous frame line finders very much.
- Fitted Half cover to accommodate the small size of the camera for those with large hands (might also help protect the mode wheel getting bumped out of position so easily)
- Tamrac Leather and web strap (barely fits through the tiny strap grommets, but at least it fits.)

Everyone has a slightly different means of working, but I think that most anyone who owns this camera for street photography in a colder climate should consider that they will most likely have to invest in some if not all of these accessories.

Conclusion

So one might ask, what was I thinking when trading from the Canon G10 to the Panasonic Lumix LX-3? I wasn’t. I was taken in by the speed and width of the lens—f2.0, 24mm. I like to work in low light a lot. To the best of my knowledge there is only one other pocketable camera that has a faster lens and it is the Ricoh GR-III which has a f1.9 lens. I thought the fast and wide lens of the LX-3 would be worth all the swearing I would encounter when trying to work my way through the menu to switch ASA, exposure compensation, and f stop, but it was not.

In my estimation this camera is really not worth all the trouble it causes. It has a great lens and great image quality for a small sensor camera. It is a horrible camera if you are trying to work quickly or intuitively with the camera to make spur of the moment images. It did however make me really appreciate the Canon G series cameras. The Panasonic Lumix LX-3 might be better considered as a boutique camera—one which is carried to restaurants and family gatherings. It is definitely not a street photographer’s camera. It is very pretty, but not a serious shooter. I thought it had better image quality at higher ASA’s than the Canon G10, but all the image quality in the world isn’t useful when you miss the shot due to poor functional/user design. I know many people absolutely love the LX-3 camera—it was their words that made me consider my defection from Canon to it, but I greatly regret the purchase. I wait patiently to exchange the Panasonic LX-3 for the Canon G11.

Techno Challenge: Street Dances in the South of France (circa 1995)

2010-02-15T15:47:00.000-06:00

The South of France came alive in the summer months with street parties which seemed to spring up and roll from town to town to town, weekend after weekend, all summer long. I remember them being in July and possibly August, but my notes included June as well.

One could always tell where the party was by standing still amid the French mountain air and listening for the direction from which harsh French techno music emanated. If this didn’t work, I suspect a hand placed on the ground could detect the rhythmic thumping base sounds rumbling through the mountain valley’s core with equal accuracy. There were few nearby towns and few roads leading from one to another, so if one headed in the general direction of the music, they would find the party.

The parties outstripped the size of the town several fold in magnitude. Residents from surrounding towns, and I suspect tourists from throughout Europe all converged on the town designated to hold the party that weekend. The south of France was a tourist destination for those who held the 5 weeks of France’s legislated vacation time off—in other words, anyone with a full time job.

The dances were an interesting transplant of the inner city out into the middle of the quiet Pyrenees—at least musically. The very young and old all participated. I remember alcohol was served, but I am not sure if it was offered free or at a charge. The quality of the party spoke of spirit-related funding. The stages, equipment, and lighting that were erected for these parties were not enormous, but certainly startling compared to the size of the town. I would guess the stage was 30-40 feet long, 10 feet deep and about 12-14 feet high with band quality lighting and speakers. This maybe slightly distorted by my memory over these fifteen years, but I remember being shocked at the strange contextual distortions created by the professional gear placed in a town with a population of less than 100—probably closer to 50. The streets that night were packed with dancers and watchers alike, essentially doubling or possibly tripling the village’s normal residency.

The DJ’s played Techno music popular among the French interspersed with various rants and shouts placed liberally throughout the entirety of the song. The DJ would actually turn the music down to nearly off, shout something as though he was falling into a cave, and then turn the music back up. It was a very strange experience.

This style of performance made little if any sense other than to glamorize or justify the DJ, but here was the effect on one’s dancing: the rhythm was good and just as you felt yourself gettin’ your groove on, the music was interrupted by an unexpected momentary silence, the yell of a word or phrase you didn’t understand, then the music started again a few seconds from where it left off, but again at full volume. The first few times it happened, I thought the guy was making public service announcements as though a child was separated from his parents. Instead, this interruption went on at intervals of ten to fifteen seconds throughout every song all night long. When I asked one of my French dance partners why this was happening, her reply was “Its French” as though a sufficient explanation for someone such as myself. Maybe that was all the explanation one needed.

ESL Abroad: Time off

2010-02-08T22:15:00.000-06:00

Part IV (see earlier postings for Parts I, II, & III)

When working in a child-filled language and culture immersion camp—in a town with a population of 53 and no transportation, my one day-off per week held little significance. It was like eating lunch at one’s desk for 24 hours as colleagues and customers asked me work-related questions. One’s day off would include sleeping in the dorm—with several kids sleeping a golf club’s distance from you, and then trying convince them you had the day off—which of course means nothing to a child. Children don’t need time off from us—why on earth would we need time off from them? It’s common sense from the child’s perspective.

The first month of our time in the camp was thusly restricted by our inability to travel to any of the larger towns which held cheap, but reasonable accommodations, sit-down restaurants, public restrooms, or touristy embellishments. The scenery was beautiful and the walks were lovely, but one could hardly fill 24 hours of consecutive time off. One generally needed to return to camp for meals and bathroom usage. There was a hotel in one of the nearby towns, but money was short. We didn’t get paid much in the beginning of our employment.

Hiking in a nearby wooded area was an option if one didn’t fear wild boar, slippery snails or mountain goats. The mountains were nearby and, yes, on one of my hikes, I slipped on several snails as I marched confidently down a trail in the woods. After I was down the trail a bit, I heard the close, angry grunting of a wild boar. If you’ve never heard it before, it will scare the crap out of you—made worse since it was an animal’s temperament with which I was unfamiliar. My flight response instilled the need to run away from the boar sounds. My hasty departure was complicated by unwelcomed skating on a carpet of shell-less snails that looked much like fresh goose dung. I did, however, make it out of the woods. The boar was probably more scared of me than I was of it, however, its 300 pounds (grunt-based estimate) verses my weight put the boar at a distinct advantage. I never saw it, and for all I know it may have been domesticated with a farmer in tow searching out black gold of France—truffles.

Payday finally arrived. It was the first money I had beyond my taxi cab reimbursement. To take better advantage of my one day per week “off” and to see more of the countryside, I decided to spend some money to have a better foreign experience. I was an avid cyclist in my youth, and now was a chance to ride the roads that made biking a sport. I arrived at the bike store at 11:59 and they were closing the doors. I asked if I could come in because I was definitely interested in purchasing a bike. They adamantly told me to come back after lunch—2:00 pm. I couldn’t believe it. In the US, stores stay open over lunch and would never shut the door on a potential customer with cash in hand—especially one wanting to buy a bike. This was a great cultural awakening for me. It was the statement of French life in a nutshell. It was a turning point in my approach to life, which of course doesn’t fit in to my experience of American culture at all.

The rural French found meals and family social time more important than someone who was interested in giving them business. Most likely for this particular bike shop, my purchase was going to be a significant portion of the day’s sales, and yet they risked closing the door on me in favor of lunch with their family and coworkers. Maybe it wasn’t such a risk in French culture—maybe this bike shop was the only game for hundreds of miles, but granted if I would have left their town earlier than the two hours required for their lunch, it would have been. I did end up buying a bike. The final score for the day: French lifestyle—1, American capitalistic expectations—0.

The bike was a big hit among the other counselors and a few of my days off were much better because of it. I probably should have taken the bike stores initial refusal to sell to me over lunch as a sign to abandon the endeavor. My boss, gradually noting the suffering and complaints of the teaching staff, secured a boxy white Fiat hatchback for us to use on our days off. I was one of only 4 other people in the camp that could drive it due to age related insurance limitations. This was a boon for my popularity among the other teachers and camp staff. My days off were now scheduled with many other coworkers. It kept me from sneaking off to stay overnight at nearby hotels most of the time, but it afforded me the chance to talk with the other teachers and befriending a number of them on a deeper level.

The French Greeting – A Guide for Traveling Americans

2010-02-03T14:45:00.000-06:00

In the car, on the way to my host families relatives home, my host says [in my rough translation from memory], “They speak a different dialect than we do. It’s a different region of France that speaks an old-world version of French. Sometimes its even hard for us to understand them.” At the time, I barely spoke any French at all. I was still young in the customs of France and didn’t know how I was to greet these distant relations of my host family. I was soon to learn.

“Quatre” is the first word out of the relatives mouth, although at the time, I was still fresh on whether, as a new acquaintance, I was supposed to kiss or just shake hands—I guess I had my answer. I was told to follow the lead of the person of the region. “Quatre” refers to the number of kisses that one is supposed to plant on one another’s faces. In this case, it was two per each cheek, or four kisses.

The French kiss is a bit of a mystery to most tourists since they spend little time in close contact with French people in their homes and social circles. It is a much different experience from spending an evening with a French friend in public.

Most Americans undoubtedly associate the French kiss as something one does passionately with their tongues. This is not the type of kiss I am covering here, but I will touch on the French greeting’s subtleties and appropriate use in meeting those in your host country.

First things first—you don’t kiss everyone you meet—especially if you’re meeting for the first time. I never kissed any of the vendors from whom I purchased sandwiches, salads, or Evian—nor persons providing me directions on the streets of Paris. Unless you spend some time with a host family, make friends quickly, stay in a small village, or make an acquaintance you see more than once, you will not likely experience this greeting. In case you do, however, I will share my understanding of the gesture and its richness based on some of my content-diverse experiences over a several visits to France to work, live, and travel.

For those of us raised among hugging Americans, one must learn to keep one’s hands to oneself and at one’s side. The key of course is learning to keep your balance at proper social distances so as not to crash into your greeter’s face. When in doubt, let the French person lead the greeting and mirror their body language. Pay attention to what you are doing—nose to nose collisions, while possible, may be considered unnecessary roughness.

The basic kiss is simply and quickly delivered. It is generally performed with lips almost ¼ on and ¾ off the cheek with very little pressure and almost no moisture. Normally the kisses are placed lightly on the broad part of the cheek with almost a grazing effect—no significant pressure is ever involved. The greeting is never quite a full on kiss with the exceptions discussed later in this article. I think the air kisses that one sees performed in the US are an indifferent misunderstood Americanized version of the French kiss designed to show “classiness.” In reality it describes a gross misunderstanding of this complex gesture and its subtleties.

In determining whether to kiss or not to kiss, familiarity with the person is as important as is the age of the participants. Each day starts anew with a round of “who have I kissed already today.” It is important whether or not you have kissed previously the same day, in which case one needn’t repeat—even if you have separated from the person for several hours. When one returns home, however, it is often repeated. And of course, the region of the country dictates one, two, three or four kisses. I have never heard of five, but it might exist. Most of my time was spent in the regions of Brittany and the Midi-Pyrenees.

Paris, with its large population density, has its own rules as a city. Beyond the few French people I knew well while in Paris, I never kissed anyone else. In Paris, as one might expect, two kisses are the norm. I suspect this is for expediency in the big city. In the more laid back, yet still northern region of Brittany three kisses are often used. This means you might have slightly more chapping on one cheek than the other at a large gala with many familiar friends. In the rural south, where the world moves even a bit more slowly it is generally four kisses. If you have confusion, the person you are greeting will often state the number of kisses, as was often done with me to accommodate my American-ness. One can also ask “combien?” which means “how many?” if clarification is needed.

Male to female and female to male kissing is the norm. Male to male kissing as a greeting is reserved for very close relatives (fathers and sons, grandfathers and adult grandsons). If one hasn’t previously met another person, generally one shakes their hands, male or female. However after one has spent time with this person, maybe shared a drink—whether coffee or otherwise, then one kisses on departure or the next time one meets. Children, until about ten years of age, were universally kissed by both genders. I am not sure of the exact age cutoff. This most likely varies from family to family, but my experiences in this regard were somewhat limited—I met very few small children under the French culture rules when in France and have little experience in this regard. Generally, I think one only greets children after one has greeted their parents and knows them from a previous meeting.

Sometimes, the placement of the kiss matters the most. There can be an art of seduction to this greeting—I am not sure if this technique is only used by women or if men do this too. One can express interest in being more than just friends. One moves the greeting kiss further back on the cheek. The first kiss is a very deliberate full-on cheek kiss and the second kiss is nearer the ear. I think that there is also a kiss that when placed on another part of the cheek or lower rear part of the jaw is indicative of this intention as well. An excellent demonstration of the seduction kiss is played out in the movie Amelie near then end of the movie when the man in whom Amelie has interest, is finally welcomed into her apartment. This movie provides a great visual representation of my description.

Suffice it to say the French greeting is far beyond simple. I explored my innumerable questions at every opportunity with my French and Francophile friends to fully uncover the intricacies of this gesture. No amount of explanation on the part of a photographer and aspiring travel writer can do it justice. I don’t understand all of its subtleties, but that is part of the fun of travel and exploration—discovering for one’s self the depth and multi-dimensionality of other cultures.

ESL Abroad: The Teacher as Learner

2010-02-02T15:23:00.000-06:00

Part III

We teachers weren’t allowed, or rather, strongly discouraged from speaking French near the children. The childrens' parents, after all, were paying for a complete immersion experience in American English and culture for their progeny, but within the borders of France. This wasn’t a problem for me in the first couple weeks of my arrival since my French vocabulary could be summed up with the phrase “Bon jour,” but I gained a much better handle on the language soon after my arrival. I would constantly ask the French speaking teachers and the vacation camp staff how to say different words in French in an attempt to learn.

The distinction of working with children in a camp setting allows me to now brag that I have been called both an American Monkey and a Fat Cow in French. I subsequently learned the French words for these and many other creative insults. Children will be children, and boundary-testing was all part of the game. We were not supposed to react to these authority-challenges and most of the time I didn’t because I didn’t understand the—until after they were levied. I didn’t need to be a good actor at the beginning of the camp, but near the end, I had to employ more actual acting skills to ignore the children’s covert French conversations. Fortunately, many of the students assumed the teachers all spoke French, which we would often use to our advantage.

At times the children were particularly unruly, as is normal for large groups of children amassed together in tight quarters. It was on these rare occasions that we would break out a few words in French—borrowed from the two fluent counselors at the camp. One particular night while the teachers were in a staff meeting, the kids became unruly and boisterous. I left the meeting, walked into the barracks-like room and shouted in English several times for them to quiet down with no change in their excessive volume or rowdy behavior. I tried a third time in loudly spoken French and it was as though a magic spell had cast an eerie silence throughout the dorm. Shortly thereafter began a stunned and timid round of questions to determine whether or not I did speak French. I just told them that one of then-known French speakers had instructed me how to say the words and phrases, which simultaneously re-instilled a level of ambiguity about my abilities. The rest of that night was peaceful.

ESL Abroad: French Mountain Serenade

2010-02-01T15:13:00.000-06:00

Part II

After a late night of free flowing table wine mixed with a heady case of travel fatigue, I gently awoke in the fresh French morning to serene sounds of a distant accordion player. I stumbled out of bed, clumsily and possibly still a bit drunk from the previous nights debauchery. I walked out of the dorm into the most beautiful little courtyard and town, filled with mountain vistas, church bells, and hard working farmers. I scanned the hills this morning, and each morning thereafter for the accordion player. He was an elusive vintage sprite—at least for my eyes. It was as though he was an angel whose cheerful task was playing the mountains awake each morning. It was at this moment of awareness that I truly became a traveler, and very possibly a Francophile. This was my new home for the next two months and I was eager to experience every moment of it. This moment would change the shape of my future into a travel obsession.

Each morning the accordionist was accompanied by the gently clanging of cowbells as a pointy-horned herd of cattle marched lazily, at the farmers urging, down the town’s main road to graze in a nearby pasture. The farmer dressed much as I had imagined except that he was younger and better looking than one might expect —I expected a haggard, spry, and quirky man, but it was not the reality of this place. Television and movie depictions were but a stereotype.

The vacation camp, turned English Language immersion camp, was now filled with the full light of day. The complex in which we stayed was an old shallow U shaped group of buildings nestled in among the deep valleys and slopes of the town. I would guess that it was formerly a farm, based on its inverted U shape—designed to fend off the weather coming down the hillside and through the center of town. The men’s dorm looked like a barracks with its rows and rows of beds. There was a t-shaped divider with no doors separating the two rooms. A legion of troupes could have bunked here, but instead it was filled with six fatigued English teachers—shortly to be augmented by boisterous French children eager to be free of parental rules under the auspices of learning.

My boss was a tri-lingual Francophile who decided that we as counselors needed to have the full experience of France. Since it was summer, we moved our eating area outside under a beautiful purple-leafed maple tree for dining. The tree was rooted near the mayor’s office, which was at a elevation much lower than our newly-minted dining area. The trees foliage was at nearly the same level as our tables. The camp’s courtyard looked over the red clay Spanish-style tiles of the Mayor’s office. The church, too, was below us, but its bell tower was both near our ears and clear. It rang once every 15 minutes and then chimed out the full glory of each hour’s numeral. It was very close to our sleeping quarters, and took some acclimation to manage lengthy sleep. The bell chimes were helpful though, when out hiking in the mountains or walking in the country roads. I would guess the quarter-hourly clangs were a holdover from the pre-wristwatch days to aid farmers hard at work creating the bounty of French cuisine.

Jet lag, travel fatigue, and getting to know several new co-workers all at once can be overwhelming—I suppose this is a version of culture shock at its most extreme. It was made better by the idea that I was in France and living in another culture. Picture your most romantic ideas of France. They were enjoyed each morning in this place. It was like every dream one might have of rural France. I was learning a lot, which in my opinion makes travel very important for everyone.

ESL Abroad: Three Days Prep for a Two Month Stay: From the Midwest to Thebe, France

2010-01-17T09:13:00.000-06:00

Life changing moments are rarely predictable, but when they occur, it seems that they are always welcome, necessary, and well timed. Three frantic and serendipitous days after learning that my job was eliminated in 1994, my plane landed at Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris. My life would never be the same. My wanderlust had been fully activated, never to be disengaged.

I had rarely considered the idea of travel beyond the confines of the United States and Canada—and even then only because I enjoyed bike touring. I had entered Canada once for a dangerous, yet scenic trip down the King’s Highway in effort to complete a trio of cycling trips circumnavigating Lake Superior. I had only been on a airplane a couple times. Life was different—I was unemployed with no plans and very little time to make them.

The student job board at the University of Minnesota was always full of cool sounding opportunities for graduate students and students with exotic majors like archaeology or international relations, but never for a multi-interest undergraduate non-major such as me. That day was a different story. The writing was on the wall—literally. It read: Wanted: Summer counselors for English Language Immersion Camp in France beginning June 1st 1994. No experience necessary. Round trip flight, Room and Board included, plus stipend of 5000 francs. Will train. French speaking ability not necessary.

It was May 28, 1994—three days before the job started. I called the company only to learn that all of the positions had been filled. While I was on the phone with the company representative, she said that they just had gotten word that a last minute position might open up. The telephone rang that afternoon. The woman on it told me that one of the counselors backed out at the last minute. If I could go, I had a job, but they needed to know immediately. I had no idea how I was going to pull this off in three days. I had never been overseas and had no idea how to prepare for it. I had never traveled beyond the borders of the US, but on an intuitive lark, I had registered for and received my passport earlier in the year. I had a feeling that I would need it, but for what I didn’t know.

The company sent me a packing list. I had eighty dollars to my name, and even that was a stretch. I told the company representative: “Absolutely—I will take it.” I had little chance to say goodbye to my colleagues and friends since I needed to pack and prepare.

Leaving for a foreign country for two months with three days preparation time, even for the seasoned traveler, is dicey. I was not a seasoned traveler at the time. I had to arrange for my apartment’s care and my bills to be paid. I had to buy a suitcase, forward my mail, give my landlord the “what’s-what,” say good-by to my friends and family, and pack for two months of semi-remote living. Three days of intense stress later with little rest, I boarded an expensive, but company paid last-minute flight and jetted off to France.

My new teaching colleagues were in Paris already, having arrived two weeks earlier for a pre-vacation, paid for by the company. We were to board a train and eventually a bus to the south of France—a twelve-hour journey. I arrived at the last possible moment and would have to meet the group at the train station one hour after my plane touched down in Paris. It was a fifty minute taxi ride to the train station. Steve, the lead teacher, had my train and bus tickets for the rest of my trip. I couldn’t afford to miss the connection since I had no money except for the eighty dollars in my pocket.

I deplaned, ran to the taxi stand and found a roaming group of cab drivers speaking in hushed tones, waiting to pounce on the uneducated tourist. The first driver said 500 francs—about $100 at the time. Too much. My money translated into about 400 francs which I only discovered when I touched down. I finally found a driver for 350 francs. It was still too much as I later would discover, but I needed a cab immediately or I would miss my train. I arrived at the train station moments before the train was to depart. I ran—trying to make sense of the departure signs for my train. I miraculously found the company representative even though he had just about given up looking for me. I boarded the TGV (France’s high speed train) and within a minute we were off on an additional twelve hours of travel—my total travel time for the trip would be thirty hours. My body begged for sleep, but my mind wanted to see everything there was to see on every second of the trip. Jet lagged and exhausted, I would make very few friends on the ride south into the Pyranees. Our group of young Americans had to start preparations soon after arrival. It would take me five days to get over my jet lag. I was stressed, irrational, and possibly on the verge of hallucination, but none of it mattered. I was in France. I was in FRANCE!

Defying Time and Space: Multidirectional Non-linear Time in Daily Life

2009-12-17T22:26:00.000-06:00

Street Portraits - Images by Aaron Fahrmann

I have been interested in street photography since my initial introduction to Garry Winogrand’s photography, but only began my artistic practice of it in 2003. Street photography connects well with my interest in the effects of science on our everyday lives. I am interested in the serendipity of the moment, the camera’s as a tool of dimensional compression, and the synchronistic convergence of personal time-space bubbles.

Several years ago as part of a larger state fair street photography project, I began visually isolating individuals with the camera from the crowds at the state fair. This type of street portraiture acts to isolate the subject even further from the street by limiting ambiguous visual context. The subjects often aren’t aware that they are the subject of the street portrait. Their faces express their emotions of the moment. Other subjects are cognizant that they may be the subject of the portrait and either have a look of surprise, annoyance, or pleasure associated with their expression. In the grand scheme of events happening in the world, their presence converged with my creative intent to create this image.

My images are made in part to understand the nature of serendipity in the act of being photographed in a public setting. I use spatial compression and foreshortened optical depth to isolate the subject from the crowd and most of its context. The resulting images, however, allow the viewing audience to interpret a stranger without the interactive social filters we use in public interaction. The viewers advantage is that they are not restricted by norms of bi-directional social conduct which limit one’s stare to a brief glance. Some viewers may interact with the images much as they would within a crowd, others will create a story or judgment based on their own experiential context. These are public persona portraits of people—with few game changers other than the crowd itself.

To demonstrate the effects of implied spatially and temporally dynamic networks, synchrony, and serendipity in the installation, the images can be mounted to posts and displayed together, spread out, but as a representation of time compression and the serendipity of the moment in which my time converged with their time. The empty space in between them is a metaphorical connection made up of non-linear time, geographic convergence and spatial separation, but with the primary connection of me, the photographer, in this case acting as a hub of the nodal network. The people (nodes) are removed from their respective times in a specific space. They were photographed in different areas, times of day and possibly even different days. The people come from a wide ranging geographical areas and converged on this one event over a two week period. They coincidentally merged their time with mine in the vast number of possible choices they could have made. What set of circumstances brought these particular people to my lens? What serendipity placed them and me at the same place within a shared moment? Chaos? Emergence? Synchrony? Predetermination? Will? These are some of the questions I am posing with my photographs.

Art Science Innovation

2009-11-25T13:41:00.000-06:00

Book: Blowing Bubbles: An Art-science Installation Re-imagining Time Interactions, Choice Behavior, and Human Convergence in Eleven Dimensions

Every wonder why time can feel like it drags on forever or passes quickly? Or why a series of coincidences can line up to make interesting changes in our lives? This book is an exploration of time in a slightly different manner than has ever been considered. It looks at how we experience time relative to ourselves based on many scientific theories and a theory of my own. We are the center of our own personal bubble universe. Time doesn't move as the clock would indicate in our personal bubbleverse. Our choices create our experience of time and the opportunities that surround us.

This book was written partially before the Art-science installation was exhibited, and partially after it was taken down. It was designed as a thesis/creative project, but was written for a broad audience of readers.

Enjoy it--if nothing else, I hope it proves a thought provoking read!

-Aaron Fahrmann

Photojournalists vs. The Camera Enabled Public: Does Anyone Win?

2009-06-26T15:44:00.000-05:00

Read this paper here.

Canon G10, some disturbing noise and pixelation

2009-06-26T15:14:00.000-05:00

Shortly after writing about the great features of the G10, I started to notice some disturbing noise problems, in particular on the high end of the ASA range. While this type of noise is to be expected since the camera uses a small chip and tries to squeeze a lot of pixels onto it, one would expect that with each subsequent generation of camera, slight noise improvements would be made. I prefer the G9 when it comes to noise on the high end of the ASA. The G10, when used in available light, ASA 1600, produced a field of blue pixels where one would prefer gradations of black. I was shocked at how much better the G9 was in this regard--and the G9 was far from a noiseless champion. I have found, of course, that the chip was designed to be shot at ASA 80. Anything above that becomes grainy--even at 100. At times, it seems that at ASA 400, the grain of film was much better. I haven't done any side by side comparisons, but rather submit these as the thoughts of a person with many years experience as a professional photographer and experience with both cameras. I love available light photography in low light situations. It would be nice to have a camera that could perform better in these situations even with a less dense megapixel structure. I realize that Canon is trying to go after a prosumer market with the G10, but there are such a wide range of professionals who use this as a carry everywhere camera that it would seem there might be some room to make a similar camera with a better chip even if the price point is raised. I may have to reconsider the Leica M8 to resolve this problem. Even with all of M8's initial problems, the quality is there and the lens speed is only limited by one's budget. I am still very satisfied with the G10 on sunny and bright days where I can get away with using ASA 80. It is nice to have the option to make images made at multiple ASA's, but the higher end's level of noise really needs to improve with each new edition of the camera, rather than degrade.

Chaos, Synchrony, and Pedestrian Movement: Applied Science for the Street Photographer

2009-06-26T15:12:00.000-05:00

Read the paper here.

A Wonderful Honor

2009-06-02T19:07:00.000-05:00

For me, as a photographer, it is wonderful to know how my work has been received by its audience. While working diligently on my search engine optimization, I came across an honor that I had received, but was not aware of, for one of my books called Industry: Revisited, 2003. It was great to hear the comments of bloggers and Blurb staff about the book and I am grateful for the feedback and being the choice for Book of the Week. There was someone posting some unrelated customer service comments in the initial comments, but the fourth comment as well as the announcement post were fantastic and greatly appreciated.

The Canon G10--A User Review

2009-06-01T15:22:00.000-05:00

I am a third generation user of the Canon G series cameras. My first was the G7, then the G9--there was no G8 since I suspect canon didn't want the confusion with the Group of 8 (commonly called the G8). I am now on the G10. So far, I am impressed.

For a long time, I shot images with my Contax G2 rangefinder and grouping of lenses. This was my longtime favorite camera. I was passionate about it, and if Contax had come out with the Contax G3 rangefinder camera with a digital sensor instead of going out of business, I would have been in heaven. After a few years of shooting with my Contax G2, I started to realize that the digital sensors were now starting to outperform film. I shoot primarily color images, and color film processing has become harder and harder to find. I started shooting the Canon G7 at the same time as my Contax rangefinder camera, then bought the G9 and sold my Contax, with some sadness.

First, though, a bit of criticism. For some reason, Canon really likes brightly colored LED indicator lights on these cameras. They seem a bit excessive. I have always covered them with tape, but now on the new G10, they have added yet another light on the on-off switch. This button is much harder to tape over than the dial indicator lights. The fact that the lens is extended or the rear screen is on should be enough to know whether the camera is on or off. I would rather see the camera with no lights at all. They have gone the right direction with a scuff resistant black body, why not leave off all the lighting for those of us who like our cameras understated.

I am however very pleased at the outset with the lessened shutter lag, wider angle lens, and the addition of a exposure compensation wheel. This camera is definitely getting where I as a photographer want it to go--an affordable digital street camera.

I love street photography, but the idea of carrying a Leica M8 with me everywhere would have my insurance company getting ready to raise my rates. I instead use the G9 and now recently switched to the G10. I would like to see this camera take the next step with interchangeable prime lenses, a full sized sensor, and a traditional rangefinder body(Larger)size for photographers with giant meat paws. I have seen that Olympus is making a promise such as this with the exception of physical and sensor size, but the camera has yet to reach the market. I will remain a devoted G series fan until the next gen approximating a rangefinder in an affordable price range is introduced. Kudos to Canon though for including a better grip on the G10. It makes the camera much easier to grip.

The common-sized strap lugs are a great new advantage on the G10. They have been updated to accommodate normal off-the-shelf professional straps that one would purchase for a DSLR/SLR. Gone are the days when one would need to use the included strap which I always found too short to drape over my shoulder. I used to have to painfully attach round rings to my G7 and G9 to attach a normal strap--not an easy feat. I can now use my favorite brand of a long detachable SLR strap. This was a small, but for me, significant improvement that make the camera experience much, much better.

The new viewfinder seems to be even clearer than the older Canon G7 and G9 versions, but equally inaccurate when framing a photo. The error in the finder is on the wide side however, so it can be compensated for in post production. When one looks through the viewfinder, they see about 32mm (my rough guess) in 35mm parlance where the lens focal length is actually close to 28mm as per the camera specifications. One can handle the viewfinder difficulties by using a 28mm shoe mount finder from Voigtlander or Leica if the built-in finder inaccuracy becomes too much of a problem, but if you zoom the lens, the usefulness of this solution goes away. This innacuracy has been the nature of this camera in the last three generations that I have used. I am not complaining—it at least has a viewfinder which many cameras in this price and feature range do not. I think it is the only one left that still has this feature that I personally consider essential in any camera I buy. I would of course prefer a more accurate finder, but this probably can’t be accommodated within the current size of the camera body. I would absolutely love a future version called the Canon G11 with a old style rangefinder look and body. While this may not make the camera as marketable, it would have a devoted following by those of us equally devoted to excellence in photography. Again, it would be nice to have a larger sensor size, even at the expense of megapixels and low price.

The dials on the camera have a very positive click positions in that while it is possible to bump them out of position, they are as firmly locked into place as one could expect. These knobs, in my heavy use and yearly camera replacement have so far stood up to my tests of them. They are excellent. Canon has adjusted the face-on profile to make the knobs even harder to bump by recessing the top of the camera even further. This is also coming closer to the rangefinder look which I also appreciate.

Please, give us a faster lens—as the Canon G series camera once had. Canon may not be looking toward professionals with this camera (although, from what I have read of its users, that’s their market), but if they are, a faster lens on the front of the camera would be one of my first changes. They had one on the canon G2 if I remember correctly, and maybe even a few after that. I am glad for the f2.8 lens, but would much rather see a f1.8 lens (or faster) for those of us who enjoy available light photography. I would even sacrifice the 28mm lens to a 35mm again to have a faster f 2 aperture.

Assuming they are devoted to the retractable lens, another nice feature would be the ability to screw a filter right onto the front of it. Keep in mind, I would rather have a removable/replaceable lens, but if they are going to continue with the retractable lens, it would be great to add some threads to the front element to place a low profile filter. It would keep dust off the front element of the lens for the majority of users the looks of the camera could be greatly improved with fewer moving parts. In the past, I have bought the bayonet mount housing to attach to the camera on which I have attached the filter. It sounds like this might be a slightly different animal on the G10 since they have changed the bayonet mount and state that mounting a filter on the camera may cause vignette problems. A screw on filter would avoid this problem, however one would need to be a bit more careful when using auxiliary lenses since there maybe potential for even the low profile filter to come in contact with the rear element of an auxiliary lens.

Maybe I am old fashioned, but the old mechanical cameras still make me happy. I really enjoy a camera designed with the great stuff from the old world of photography mixed with the most recent technology. I like knobs, but I also like digital readouts. I am not part of the steam punk generation, but I do miss the feel of the manual focus lenses and the metal camera bodies. The canon G10 and its predecessors are still the closest approximation of this in my evaluations of street cameras. I think often about the success of the Canon Canonet QL17 III cameras. Canon has the chance to make another legend here.

I am grateful to Canon for all the improvements they have made to this camera. I love the hot shoe, and the fact that I can use my current Canon Flash with both my cameras. I love the wider angle lens, and I love the extra dial and knob controls. Canon is definitely on the right track with this camera, but there are many improvements that can still be made to make this a logical choice for a street/travel camera in every professional’s repertoire.

I have just started to use the G10, so I will continue to add to my review over the next several months. So far I am loving it. I may complain a bit however about the bayonet mount change after I learn more about the replacement accessories I have to now purchase.

Welcome!

2009-05-22T11:07:00.001-05:00

Watch this blog for future posts!

Photojournalists vs. The Camera Enabled Public: Does Anyone Win?

2009-04-19T21:42:00.000-05:00

This is a paper I have posted on another blog which expresses an opinion about the idea of Citizen Photojournalists, which I have renamed "The Camera Enabled Public."

Excellent Article by Vincent Laforet

2008-12-02T07:49:00.000-06:00

I would highly recommend that anyone interested in the future of photojournalism, and photography in general to read Vincent Laforet's article called The Cloud is Falling as posted to Sportsshooter.com.