Mexico? Or Spain? Italy?

Don't worry, I won't keep you in suspense. It's a rooftop panorama of Valle de Bravo, one of the favorite weekend destinations for well-heeled residents of Mexico City. As the name suggests, it sits in a valley by the shores of a man-made lake. This is the view over the center of the town, which of course is characterized by the spires of a colonial-era church alongside the plaza.

The buildings in this part of town mainly have sloping red clay tile roofs, giving the impression almost of an Italian or Spanish village. Of course, the mega-houses and villas arranged along the shoreline suggest, well, any wealthy weekend retreat town in any part of the world. Valle is a wonderful place for sailing and a few of the "extreme sports" involving wheels, mud, and the thrill of potential bone fractures. I prefer the sailing myself. You can always bang your head on the boom if scars and contusions are an essential part of a weekend. 

I stitched six photos together in Photoshop, did a little curves adjustment, and took the result back to Lightroom for final retouching. Taken with my 40D - sadly without a tripod - at 24mm, f/9 and 1/160 sec.

 

em ustang!

Poker has been one of my favorite, if occasionally expensive, recreational activities since I went on assignment to South Africa in 1996 and came across some truly serious players, including my continuing poker mentor, Tom Cohen.

There is a tacit etiquette to social poker that is absorbed rather than learned, I guess, and it is particular to each game's host, and the circus of players. It adds that unique feel to every poker night that feeds your appetite and keeps you coming back no matter how many tragic hands you've dropped or how much of your own hard-earned currency walks out with a new owner.

I'm lucky enough to have been adopted into a ring of poker maniacs, all locals, here in Mexico City and our weekly games have become a highlight for me. I brought my little Leica to one of the first games I was invited to and did some tabletop shooting that yielded some really atmospheric pics. I revisited them this week just to practice some Photoshop techniques and thought this one came up well. The title, "em ustang!"is how one of our crew has taken to calling a Hold 'Em variation I imported from my Washington DC games, called Mustang Sally. It's become a favorite with the crew as it gives you the chance to play either the five cards you're dealt or just two with the table cards, as in regular Hold 'Em. I think the cartoon treatment goes well with the outsized behavior during our games.

La Bandida de Tequila

Three years on in Mexico City and I still never hesitate when invited to even the most obvious tourist destinations, as you can never know what potential rewards await. A group of us were having brunch at El Bazaar Sabado in San Angel this past weekend, looking for hangover relief in the desayuno buffet in the market's interior courtyard. On offer was cheap and cheerful breakfast food, accompanied by surprisingly good mariachis on a little raised stage. It takes a moment but you come to realize it's quite the little oasis amid the tide of humanity that courses through the market's narrow passages in search of souvenirs and traditional trinkets. What caught my eye however wasn't the mariachis or the happy bustle of tourists and locals, but a slight figure darting among the tables in the courtyard with a bandolier slung around her hips that contained a clutch of tall shot glasses and a bottle of tequila secured in a holster by a rubber band. Hair of the dog and a picture opportunity in one. I was soon sipping a Tradicional and reviewing a few frames I took of the wonderful tequila bandida. Canon 40D with a 24mm-105mm f/4 at 1/60 sec and f5/6.

Para Llevar

For those who haven't asked for a doggie bag in Spanish, "para llevar" means to carry or take away. Sylvie, my brother and I had just emerged from a gallery in Guanajuato and I literally did a double-take when I caught a glimpse of this scene. A more obvious photo op I've never seen. Guanajuato is a photographer's delight given the architecture and the colors, and I thought the green in the painting was accentuated nicely by the paler green in the wall beyond it. But mostly the Sunday stroll pace of the gent, the jaunty angle of his Panama, and the casual perching of the painting really got me. Canon 40D with 24-105mm f/4, shot at f/6.3 and 1/200 sec.

 

The Bedside Musketeer

Just sifting through the scads of photographs from recent trips, and of course I was drawn toward the selections from our recent trip to France. Having lurched from news assignments in a besieged Mexico City to sunsets and surf in peaceful Punta de Mita, it's a little odd to look back at the Paris pictures and think of this sort of calm-before-the-storm sojourn. 

Sylvie had booked our first night in Paris at L'Hotel on the Left Bank, a ruddy jewel of a place that saw a guest named Byron draw his last breath. The hotel is designed around a narrow, circular atrium and accordingly the rooms have bowed walls and doors, a surreal touch enhanced by the plush decor, all in red, gold and leathery browns. 

Of course it's nearly impossible to capture the feel of the room in a single image but I thought this shot of the bedside lamp might be a good try. That the lamp features the figure of a dashing musketeer examining his rapier is wonderfully representative of the panache of the place, and the leather-bound books bathed in the soft light make for a perfect backdrop. Not to sound like a broken record, but taken handheld with a 50mm on my 40D, at f/2.2 and 1/100 sec.

Of Door-Stops and 'Flu Madness

A call from The Sydney Morning Herald photo desk jolted me awake around 5am Tuesday and within the hour I was sitting with my kit in the silent lobby of the Melia Reforma Hotel. I had an assignment to stakeout a delegation of parliamentarians from Australia, who had the misfortune to arrive in Mexico on the weekend the swine 'flu story erupted in full fury. 

The SMH, or Smaych in local lingo, wanted a pic of the touring party at all costs - including my sleep and potentially my reputation with the Australian embassy, which had the unenviable task of hosting the delegates and managing an itinerary changing by the minute due to event cancellations and restaurant closures.  We had been trying to track down the delegation's whereabouts and schedule but to no avail, there was a gag order from Canberra on their visit. But, in the end, the newspaper got a tip on where they were staying, and so there I was.

Four hours after settling into a chair in the lobby and watching the glass elevators zip up and down like a mesmerized golden retriever, I saw the Australian ambassador emerge with the six delegates, who were busily putting on the familiar flu-be-gone face masks.

I grabbed the camera but resisted the urge to begin blazing away immediately, as I felt that to try to get a broad group shot in a very dimly-lit lobby would look decidedly unimpressive and most likely result in me being bounced down the stairs by the security staff, most of whom had being eying me warily all morning anyway.

So I headed straight to the masked Ambassador, explained my mission and asked if we could work something out. "Not here!" barked Senator John Hogg, the delegation leader and winner of the ironic name of the year award. I calmly explained I wasn't after a "gotcha" pic, that I wanted a good shot of the whole delegation. The Ambassador and I agreed to a shot on the stairs of the Mexican Senate on the other side of the Alameda park outside the hotel. One glitch though. I was on my own, no driver, and would have no time to retrieve my car from the adjacent parking garage to make the Senate in time (let alone find parking) for the promised photo op. Dick Adams, the affable Labor member for Tasmania, saved the day by declaring I should ride with the delegation, which I heartily seconded and snapped up my gear before Senator Hogg could object. 

Into the minibus and away we went for the 10 minute drive. While Adams and I exchanged pleasantries about the wonders of Tasmania (having been there just over a year ago, I could actually do this with great earnestness), I kept an ear cocked to the chatter in the bus and chuckled to myself as the Honorable Senator Hogg (from my own electorate back home) sounded off about the proper way to deal with pesky press intrusions, such as the SMH's insistence upon seeing what our elected officials were doing. 

"Take the air out of 'em" he explained, "that's the way to deal with it. If you don't give them anything, there's no story." 

Six years of dealing with the press - from the Village Voice through to BBC World Service - at the World Bank in Washington taught me a little about media relations (not to mention the 14 years of being a reporter) and this advice always strikes me funny. There are so many examples ("I am not a crook!" - Richard Milhouse Nixon) to bear out that this simply doesn't work IF there is actually something there. Besides, this wasn't investigative journalism, the Smaych just wanted a picture and maybe 15 minutes with the delegates to get their impressions of having arrived in the world's hottest story. Not much "there" there really. In the end, despite the unwillingness of Canberra to even let us know where the delegates were, we found them, spoke with them, and got the pic. So the "take the air out" approach didn't even work in this instance, as my presence on the bus surely indicated.

The story, written by the lovely Tara Fitzgerald, is here on the SMH web site, which used a cropped version of the picture on the home page alongside the story blurb. I'll be checking with friends in Sydney to see if the full picture, above, got a run. 

But overall, I was happy with the experience. I got the shot, didn't put any noses out of joint (other than Hogg's, and please, no puns about hogs' noses), and made the paper, which by the way quoted me in a brief piece Monday about expat reactions to the alleged swine 'flu outbreak (story here).

As for the kit, I wielded my Canon 40D with a 24-70mm f/2.8 and a 580 EX II flash with battery booster pack.

History of the Marais

We were walking through the Marais during our recent visit to Paris and I noticed this old sign above a closed store front. I can count at least six fonts in the lettering, though there might be more. It seems to me the cursive style visible in the center might be the oldest of the bunch. I made a direct-positive treatment to bring out the depth in the sign, which I think worked quite well. The Marais has such a remarkable history and to me this sign seemed to offer a snapshot to the neighborhood's many eras, but only if you took the time to peer closely enough. Shot with a 24-105mm IS f/4 at 65mm, f/4 and 1/80 sec at ISO400.