You look like a dork. I say that with love, because for about six years, I was that dork. I was the guy standing in the middle of a crowded street in Hanoi, sweating through a linen shirt, desperately trying to swap a 35mm prime for a 85mm while a sea of motorbikes buzzed past me like angry hornets. I had $4,000 of glass around my neck and I was miserable.
We’ve been lied to by the YouTube gear-review industrial complex. They tell you that “travel photography” requires a weather-sealed body, a trinity of f/2.8 zooms, and a carbon fiber tripod that costs more than your plane ticket. It’s a lie. In fact, I’ll go a step further: the more gear you carry, the worse your photos actually get. I’ve lived it. I work a regular 9-to-5 in logistics, so when I get my two weeks of PTO, I used to treat it like a National Geographic assignment. Big mistake.
The $3,000 mistake I made in Kyoto
It was 2018. Fushimi Inari. You know the place—the endless rows of orange torii gates snaking up the mountain. I had a Sony A7R III and a heavy 24-70mm lens. I’d been walking for three hours. My lower back was screaming. I was so focused on finding the “perfect” composition without any tourists in the frame that I didn’t actually look at the shrines. I was looking through a viewfinder, not with my eyes.
Then it happened. I tried to do a mid-walk lens swap because I saw a cat sitting on a stone lantern. I fumbled. My lens cap popped off and rolled into a restricted moss garden. As I was lunging for it, I tripped, bruised my knee, and the cat—the only interesting thing I’d seen all morning—bolted. I sat on a wooden bench and realized I hadn’t enjoyed a single second of the trip so far. I was a technician, not a traveler. The camera had become a physical wall between me and the city.
Anyway, I ended up taking my favorite photo of that entire trip later that night on a grainy iPhone 8 while eating convenience store ramen. It had soul. My professional shots looked like screensavers. But I digress.
I’ve started loathing Fujifilm cameras (and I know you’ll hate me for it)
I know people will disagree with this, and the Fuji cult is loud, but I genuinely think the X100 series is a scam. I bought an X100V because every blogger said it was the “ultimate” travel companion. I hated it. I used it for three weeks in Lisbon and the buttons felt like they were made by a toy company. Everyone raves about the “tactile dials,” but they’re just fiddly. I kept bumping the exposure compensation dial every time I pulled it out of my bag.
I refuse to recommend Fujifilm to anyone who actually wants to take photos rather than just look like a person who takes photos. It’s a fashion accessory, not a tool.
I might be wrong about this—maybe I just have fat fingers—but the hype is a collective delusion. I ended up selling mine on eBay for more than I paid for it, which tells you everything you need to know about the market. It’s not about the optics; it’s about the aesthetic of being a “photographer.”
The “Keeper Ratio” is the only metric that matters
I’m a bit of a nerd, so I actually tracked my stats over my last five international trips. I looked at how many photos I took versus how many I actually bothered to edit or print. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. I looked at how much “work” I was creating for myself.
- 2017 (Italy – Full DSLR Kit): 4,120 photos. Keepers: 12. Ratio: 0.29%
- 2019 (Peru – Mirrorless + 2 Lenses): 2,800 photos. Keepers: 15. Ratio: 0.53%
- 2023 (Mexico – Ricoh GR III + Phone): 640 photos. Keepers: 52. Ratio: 8.1%
When you have less gear, you stop spraying and praying. You wait. You watch. You don’t feel the need to document every single taco you eat because you don’t have a 2-pound weight hanging off your neck demanding to be used. Precision beats volume every single time. 8.1% success rate is a massive jump. That’s the only data point I need to never carry a camera bag again.
Stop being a creep with the “candid” shots
Here is my genuinely uncomfortable take: most travel photography of “locals” is borderline exploitative. We’ve all seen the shots. An old woman in a market, a monk walking by a temple. We call it “street photography” to make ourselves feel better, but usually, it’s just us sticking a long lens in someone’s face because they look “authentic.”
I used to think I was capturing the human condition. Now I think I was just being a jerk. If you wouldn’t take a photo of a random person at a grocery store in your hometown, don’t do it in Marrakech. If you want a portrait, talk to them. Buy something. Ask. If they say no, move on. The best travel photo isn’t a stolen moment of someone else’s life; it’s a photo that reminds you of how you felt in that moment. Nobody cares about your bokeh.
What actually works
If you’re still reading and haven’t closed the tab because I insulted your Fuji, here is the short version of what I’ve learned after a decade of doing this wrong.
Buy a Ricoh GR III. It fits in your pocket. It has a sensor as big as the heavy DSLRs. It starts up in less than a second. It doesn’t look expensive, so people don’t look at you like a target for mugging. Or just use your phone. The new iPhones have better HDR processing than most $2,000 cameras anyway.
Also, buy a wrist strap, not a neck strap. Neck straps are for tourists who want to develop chronic cervical spine issues by age 40. A wrist strap keeps the camera in your hand, ready to go, and you can tuck it into your sleeve if you feel like you’re in a sketchy area.
I still struggle with the urge to buy the newest Sony body every time a pre-order goes live. The marketing is strong. But then I remember that bruised knee in Kyoto and the lens cap lost in the moss. I think about how much more fun I have when I’m just a guy with a tiny camera in his pocket and a beer in his hand.
Why are we even taking these photos? Is it for us, or is it to prove to people on Instagram that we went somewhere? I don’t know the answer to that yet. I’m still trying to figure out if I’d even bother taking photos if I couldn’t show them to anyone. Probably not. And that’s a weird thought to end on, I guess.
Buy a small camera. Take fewer pictures. Drink more local beer. That’s the secret.
