I’ve been feeling blue; well, how about you?

It doesn’t seem like it based on my previous post, but I did make an itinerary for Osaka. Shops and exhibitions, places to eat, even specific spots I wanted to photograph—I just ended up managing to cross them all off in the first three days. I’d even penciled in day trips to Kyoto and Kishi Station and considered a day at Universal Studios just to ride Jaws again, but again, I honestly fumbled my planning somewhat and it ended up a little too cold for me to even fathom them.

But I set out for and sought after what I could, and I really had quite the perfect few days.  

My first order of business was another pilgrimage. A nondescript little tunnel next to an automated parking lot in a chic little neighborhood where university students gather in Americana-themed bars blasting Michael Jackson and whimsical cafes. It looks like nothing unless you recognize it from j-hope’s Hope on the Street docuseries, in which he spent his downtime in Osaka (where he’d gone for an award show) doing a few popping performances in various locations, one of which was this very spot. 

It was a fun little excursion, even if I spent most of it trying not to get lost in the massive underground mall in Umeda. 

Visiting a shooting location I’d only seen on my screen is always a little fantastic, but it was only made more surreal when two days later, a gigantic underground pipe rose 30 feet from the ground in Umeda. I saw a video on Twitter and immediately checked my gallery for a photo I’d taken, which depicted the exact same area. What were the odds? Roads were closed and it looked pretty scary to witness in person, so I was glad I made this my priority.   

Also: here I go with my Sophie Tajan crates again. 

The next day I walked through Minamihorie to visit two shops I’d learned about when I went looking for places to buy prints and zines. It was such a nice day. I turned a corner from the street of my hotel and the storefronts began morphing into something more and more offbeat. I love how accessible it was and how there was so much to see.

At Art House I went crazy picking out all the postcards I wanted, and I also got two zines. There was also a lot of original art, from drawings and paintings to handmade crafts like wood carvings, clay pieces, tiny plushies, and miniatures. The woman running the store was very nice, and one of the artists sitting at a table (I wasn’t sure if there was an event going on) gave me a chocolate cookie. Definitely a place I would’ve loved to become a regular at, and it reminds me of Cubao X the way it was in my memories.

It was quite a longish and intimidating walk to the second shop, but I found it calming. For the first time on any of the trips I’ve been on, I finally put my wool gloves to use. 

I passed this little community store selling vegetables in partnership with farmers, and I found it so wonderful that people of all ages were really stopping by and carefully choosing their veggies. 

It was nice to meander around the side streets of Osaka on a quiet weekday afternoon while everyone was busy at school or work. I passed two community parks on my way. There was a pretty large group of young women beautifully made up and all dressed up in kimonos, smiling and laughing as they held hands on the sidewalk.  

Book of Days is a pretty small room on the second floor of a walk-up, the shelves and tables lined with countless books and independent publishing on art and photography. I got a zine and a book and wistfully browsed the heavier one-of-a-kind publications that I couldn’t take with me.

I’d downloaded Uber and was considering taking one to my next stop, but when I went to check how to get there from where I was, I saw that the nearest subway station was five minutes away, and from there it was only one stop. 

 

When I got to Higobashi Station, I found it so cool, the way it was lined with these comfy seats so passengers could rest while they waited. Silly, but I thought I wouldn’t mind spending some time just in the station reading while it bustled around me. There were trains on both tracks, but by the time I thought to take a picture, they were already pulling away. 

I had gone to the Nakanoshima Kosetsu Museum to view their current exhibit “Journey to Masterpieces: Torajiro’s Dream, from the collection of the Ohara Museum of Art.” I felt so lucky to be able to catch it, especially when I learned of the works I would get to see, curated before his passing by Western-style painter Torajiro Kojima, whose own paintings were also on display.

When I got there I didn’t realize the true scope of what I would be in the presence of. It was overwhelming and magical. All these painters I only ever thought I would read about or see on a screen: El Greco, Raffaëlli, Pissarro, Cézanne, Degas, Matisse, Picasso. Name drops so unbelievable I sound like a character on a sitcom being written to sound cultured and smart. I didn’t know that “starstruck” could ever apply to inanimate objects, but that’s exactly what I was. 

The piece that really gripped me was this lithograph version of Edvard Munch’s Madonna.

And then there was Monet’s Water Lilies, seen on the poster for the exhibition and the only piece I really knew to expect. I was so emotional, there’s just no other way to describe it. Like with most of the paintings, I stepped as close as I could and examined every detail, trying to grasp the fact that these artists, these human beings, had once created every stroke of the brush with their own hands. They jumped off the canvas, their textures so real and so clear to me for the very first time that I could almost feel them at my fingertips.

I put on the piano version of “Fake Plastic Trees” from the Westworld soundtrack and just lost myself in that room until I had to go.

I bought postcards of my favorite paintings at the gift shop. (No prints of the Munch, sadly.) Also: I love this shot so much. 

I took a short walk by the river before finally letting myself have that Uber ride back to my hotel. 

Sometimes it’s hard out here in the deep end: Pictures I took walking in Osaka

 My body’s different in Osaka than it is in Seoul.

Maybe it’s something about the Dotonbori River and the other rivers in the city, along with Osaka Bay, that makes it feel so much colder. In Seoul I could wear a sweater with my breath coming out in puffs of white in zero degrees and I would be cozy. But six to ten degrees in Osaka and I fold, slipping wool gloves onto delicate fingers and finally putting my hot packs to use. 

Two things became the driving force of this trip: I needed to get away, and I wanted to wear my Human Hope knockoff sweaters. Preferably somewhere cold enough, before all the spring tourists. And I was starting to miss this city a little too much. 

The first thing I did when I arrived was to walk the couple blocks that would lead me to the Dotonbori Bridge. I looked out over the view, and there was this sense of, What now? 

I came to find a lot of solace in the looser, as-you-go style of travel I tried in November—letting go of the pressure and staying comfortable didn’t have to mean sacrificing new experiences and discoveries. They could go hand in hand. People say there’s not a lot to do in Osaka, but the way I saw it, this only made it perfect for this kind of meandering. 

I made a map of places I specifically wanted to stop by just so I could take pictures of the ridiculously fun larger-than-life shop signs around the river. I ended up not needing to consult it at all—most of them were side by side, literally jumping out at you as you passed. The best part was finding a number of them that I hadn’t even heard of. 

They remind me of how it felt when I first came here and what it was like to come across one of them when I had no prior knowledge or expectations. Crossing what I thought was an ordinary side street, only to find a bright red giant crab claw sticking out of an otherwise unassuming storefront. It’s still one of my favorite photos I’ve ever taken. 

I didn’t bring my Canon G9X on any of the trips I took last year, thinking it would weigh me down when my phone was good enough for documentation. Now that I was intent on going slower and really capturing what I saw and experienced, I made sure to have it on me all the time. 

It’s not a Ricoh GR or any of the other viral cameras, but I’m still so in love with it and think it takes stunning shots and makes such a huge difference. 

I made a playlist before I left, with the theme of depression walking alone at night in a city where the closest person who might care about me is thousands of miles away. I put it on while waiting for the light to turn green at the first crosswalk, and of course it starts off with j-hope’s “Safety Zone.”  

I didn’t cry in public (and we all know I’m the last person who would ever care if I did), but I almost wanted to, you know? For the catharsis of it all. I just stopped by the riverfront and took it all in with a rattle in my chest as the music drowned everything out. Waiting for that sense of healing, and welcoming it when it settled over me. 

It’s only my first night, and it’s a feeling I would chase through the rest of my days here. 

For the last few years, whenever I thought about returning to Osaka, I would think to myself that I could spend my entire stay just discovering everything Dotonbori had to offer. It was this hyperbolic notion, because surely it would be a waste of having flown all this way and I’d grow bored of it. 

But it was proving too cold to go on day trips or Make the Most of It. The point of this trip was to relax and float along, so I gave myself permission to do just that. My hotel offered access to all of these areas and neighborhoods that I never even knew were so close until I was in them. Shinsaibashi and Namba were a given, but Amerikamura was right there, and so was Minamihorie—an instant favorite of mine that won me over not with its endless row of vintage stores, but with its unique architecture, quaint parks, and arts and culture spots.

Just the surrounding streets were full of scenery and moments that I desperately wanted to remember as I saw them, like this little okonomiyaki place that I’ve always found so fascinating to look at. 

I spent my last two days perfectly happy walking my little walks, exploring on foot and thoroughly inspecting the shelves in every konbini. Like I had all the time in the world, like every day could look like this, like I could get used to it. Getting to know it like it was mine. 

There’s something about depression walking on the Dotonbori bridge that everyone knows. My initial impression of Ebisu Bridge—impossible to cross on a Halloween marked by tragedy in another city—had left me with dread, but I’ve come to find a strange comfort in routinely finding myself, well, by myself in a sea of people and movement and chaos and noise. Couples holding hands, friends spending time, families making memories, and me. 

Dwarfed by the billboards and the bright lights, which I’ve only recently learned have been there since 1935. Looking up to admire them and bask in their presence instead of keeping my head down staring at my feet. 

And then there’s depression walking on the other side of the street, on the Dotonbori bridge that no one takes except to get someplace, where it’s just me and the quiet and the river in the faintly glittering dark.

Nobody stops on Shinebisu Bridge. In the morning it’s a silent witness to how the day unfolds; the shops and restaurants won’t open until later. At night it becomes a safe passage as tourists wind down or stumble around in search of one last thing to do, because this is Dotonbori and there’s always something to do. 

I’m the only one who ever seems to slow down, who pretends to check for messages that are never there just so I could pause and look out into the water that no longer ripples because it’s late and the boats have stopped cruising. 

The first time I crossed it, I thought: How come no one ever talks about this? Because no one ever comes here, and there’s nothing to see but a large body of water. But that’s exactly what I love about it. It becomes something I consider a secret, something only for my own. And as always, I feel like I never stay and look long enough.

Osaka makes me feel like I’m part of something.

Encountering people who make me believe in kindness, in wonder, in the importance of wanting and happiness. Tourist traps that remind me not to take myself too seriously. Equal parts kitsch and genuine beauty that will always make it worth it to stop and point and shoot. Streets paved evenly enough to support me on my feet. Rivers deep enough to drown out my grief. 

Osaka makes me feel like myself. 

I took this with my phone on my last full day, but I think it might be my favorite from this trip. Another thing I learned recently is that the giant crab on the sign of the Kani Doraku flagship branch has been around since at least the ‘50s. 

I went back so I could take this before I grabbed dinner, because I was curious about what it would look like. 

I don’t think I’ve ever had this certainty where I knew I wouldn’t be back someplace for the foreseeable future. But that’s exactly what I was thinking about as I walked to the middle of the Dotonbori Bridge on that final night. I had seen everything there was to see, for now at least. It was time to say goodbye for a while, and I’ve never been good at goodbyes. 

I started to walk away, but the light at the crosswalk was red and I could still feel the everlasting glow of it right behind me. So I stopped, and I turned back for one last look. For real this time. 

But as always, of course, I was left feeling like I didn’t stay and look long enough.

If I wanted, I could

I took advantage of the holiday on Tuesday to book a stay at Valero Grand Suites for the week. I liked the idea of walking to and from work for both office days, and I could spend the rest of the time on personal writing projects and ordering in from places I’ve always wanted to try since the area gives me a wider range of choices. 

Finding out about their half-off offer has been dangerous for me since I want to stay there all the time now. I love the double rooms since the beds are huge, and one is always set against the window, where there’s this elevated space wide and comfortable enough to be a desk if you sit at the end of the bed. It offers views of the Lepanto Building, flanked by my own office building at Ayala Triangle Gardens. There’s also a full-size fridge that comes with an ice tray and a microwave, which is perfect for making sure I get to eat without taking too much time away from the stuff I want to get done. 

On the first day I walked to the nearby 7-Eleven after checking in to stock up on drinks and some of their ready-to-eat meals. It started raining on my walk back, but the sidewalk is fully covered so I got to experience the downpour without getting wet. 

Stuff I tried from 7-Eleven through my stay: the black forest cake slice, which was really good and full of cherry flavor; the breakfast sausage patty with rice, eggs, and mini pancakes; the cheesedog onigiri; and the crispy shrimp balls with garlic aioli. 

On Wednesday I got up at 9:30 (the usual time I arrive at the office, from having gotten up at 6:45 at home!) and showed up to work at a little past ten. Before heading back I stopped at the Marketplace downstairs, where I ran into a high school classmate and found this adorable red panda popsicle—the dark brown is hazelnut, light brown is coffee, and the little pink peaches are of course peach-flavored.  

I ordered in from Flipside Burgers and got the one with bacon jam, cream cheese, and fried onions, which might be my favorite burger in Manila right now. I also got some sliders for snacking or later meals. I got a cookies and cream cake and seafood cream pasta from Sweet Inspirations. Again, I’m a little too particular about cream-based pastas and it’s much more likely that I end up not liking something I’m trying for the first time, but this one had a good texture and flavor and I’m glad I had it. 

I had to take on double (honestly, triple) duty at work and it wasn’t very fun. The day ended at around seven or eight, and we had dinner at Purple Rice in Salcedo. I got the grilled angus beef belly with nutty Thai BBQ sauce, and I’m obsessed with it. I finished half and got the rest to go, which I had for breakfast the next day. 

It was nice to walk back to the hotel at night. I haven’t been journaling by hand for a while, just writing about my days in my mood tracker but I’ve been too lazy to be detailed about it, so I wanted to put some of my feelings here. This week kind of left me feeling lonely and grasping at notions of belonging. Work has been a lot since last June and there are a lot of frustrations. I have friends to commiserate and carry it with, but at dinner I was listening to them share about how they’ve been talking with their parents or how their parents have been supporting them and it just struck me: I used to have that too, and now I don’t anymore, and never will again. It was so easy to imagine what my parents would’ve said, and how comforting it would’ve been. But I’ll never know for sure. 

So my supposedly chill workcation week got clouded over with some fun little depression side quest that didn’t really subside for a couple of days, but getting to do what I wanted and get some good food helped. 

Friday I didn’t have to come to the office anymore, but it was still a work day, so I set up a desk on the large counter space next to the TV and drew the curtains for lots of natural light, which I don’t get a lot of at home. For the rest of the day I watched Something Very Bad is Going to Happen in one sitting, since we just got the screeners for work. 

On Saturday, my last full day, I ordered Umi Sushi as a final treat for myself. 

I think it’s pretty affordable since you get eight huge rolls per order. The first kind I got was the salmon aburi, with cream cheese and chopped cucumber and a topping of torched salmon, a creamy sauce with aonori powder, and tobiko. This one was really fresh and filling and sated the part of me that’s been craving salmon for a few days. 

I found the dynamite roll adorable with its tiny panko-deep-fried topper roll of minced unagi, kani, and cream cheese. The main roll had torched fresh salmon and cream cheese, with chili mayo. 

See what I mean about the desk-esque space by the window? I spent Saturday doing some reading for research, and at night I turned out all the lights and sat facing the night sky and the beautiful buildings while I organized my notes into a semi-coherent outline. This story has been haunting me for a couple of years and I’ve been so scared to touch it since it features sports and it’s important for me to strike the balance of making sure it’s well-integrated into the plot while knowing next to nothing about it. I didn’t get as much done as I’d been planning, but I think I finally know what to do with it and most importantly how. It’s definitely progress, and I can’t wait to go further.  

I checked out early the next morning and went over to Ate Inah’s place so we could go together to where we’re having her birthday lunch. 

Was it just a ploy so I could execute my ulterior motive of seeing Fifi and giving him all the pets? Who’s to say. 

This time he actually laid still and let me pet him after giving my hand the perfunctory sniff test. When I got up he kept stopping at my feet and rolling around, showing his stomach to me! And later, when I got out my bag of Chips Delight cookies to snack a little, he climbed onto the couch to beg for some, but of course I had to turn him down. 

Lunch was at Azadore in the Scout area, but I got too lazy to take proper photos by then, so have some more of Fifi. It’s a gorgeous place, another repurposed midcentury modern home with plenty of private dining areas at no additional cost. Perfect for family celebrations, and I wished my parents were there as usual. 

My favorites from our meal: all the paellas, the lengua, the truffle penne, the pork belly with aioli, the toasted baguette with compound butter, and the churros. It was nice to close off my week alone with my larger nuclear family. 

(Less nice when I got home and finally counted up the damage on my expense tracker. I don’t want this to be a habit, but maybe it can be a seasonal thing.) 

Lately I've become aware

There are a lot of cool things that I get to do at my job, but I get so caught up in the day-to-day that it doesn't really occur to me to blog about them or document them properly. But I was going through my photos and it brought me back to how much I loved getting to experience certain parts of a shoot, so I thought I'd gush about it here.

I think my favorite location we've ever had for a shoot would have to be this mid-century modern home along West Avenue, which we used for One Hit Wonder. We don't get to shoot on location often (at least I haven't, but we've done set visits involving road trips and everything) and I just fell in love with all of the secrets begging to be discovered in the house. It looked like a chic '70s bungalow from the outside, but there's a kind of loft leading to the bedrooms, and our area was in the basement. My parents would've loved the warm wood, high asymmetrical ceiling, and that insane glass block window. 

Part of what made the set so warm and beautiful was the production design, of course, but the house itself had plenty of character all its own. The holding area was right by this huge collection of DVDs both authentic and pirated, including countless local titles like Booba and Sigaw. I can't say it enough: OBSESSED. There are also different knick-knacks like a life-size bust of Marilyn Monroe, a sword, some vintage cameras, and elaborate miniature boats and planes. 

Not the most well-framed picture, but I wanted to show that they also had this record player and telephone. 

For this season of Bida/Bida, we literally managed to pull off an episode reuniting both Juday and Gladys and Marvin and Jolina—not the easiest feat considering difficulties with scheduling almost drove us all up the wall trying to come up with new combinations of stars and compromises. But I was almost more starstruck getting to "meet" a real, live glambot. It was super cool to see in action, and we made use of sequences that were more complicated than your average red-carpet shot for our intro. Writing this now, the way we used the robot arm actually reminds me of how it was applied to j-hope's "MORE" music video. (It's also kind of scary since the equipment is massive and heavy and makes a lot of noise and quick movements that will make you take a couple of steps back.) 

My second-favorite set from last year was this gorgeous teal greenhouse for It's Okay to Not Be Okay. The entire cast was so fun and gracious, each of them stepping into our holding area to introduce themselves, and everyone looked so good. Anne Curtis was a total sweetheart, and one of the concepts I was most proud of was this one where Anne and her character Mia "meet face-to-face." I loved getting to see what the process of shooting The Parent Trap must've been like, as well as the way Anne seamlessly snapped into character as Mia, and then as herself. (It was also past midnight, but she was a trooper and a pro the whole time.)  

This one's from 2024, but I think I definitely need to highlight the experience of getting to work with and directing KATSEYE through a few quick concepts.

Daniela was closest to me so it was easy to keep defaulting to her. For the "OA or Nonchalant" concept she took to saying "OA" like a Filipino so well, partly because Sophia was so insistent that everyone get the pronunciation right. Sophia was a true professional and leader (and theater actress offspring!) and greeted everyone in the room brightly upon entering. Manon was so pretty and refined, Yoonchae was shy and adorable but still very game, and Megan was unflappable and cool. Lara was kind of like part of the leader line and kept everyone's energy up. They were all glowing even after several hours of work straight from the airport.

We celebrated with dinner at China Blue, where I ordered the deep fried soft shell crab and shrimp with calamansi and mango sauce that had the perfect amount of kick, and I still think about it all the time.  

(We shot a group pic with them, and I was off to the side. I saved it off the Instagram of someone from another department that I'm not really close with, and in it I'm literally cut in half, but I just never got around to asking for the full high-quality photo. Still, whatever, I know what I see when I look at it, and the whole thing makes me laugh.) 

I didn’t care about little things when I was young and dumb

We never had a junior prom. 

That was the year Ondoy hit Manila and flooded my house knee-deep, causing water damage to beautiful wooden furniture we wouldn’t have it in our hearts—or pockets—to replace for years. We had a nook outside by the gate that was only there because there was nowhere else to put it, table and all, and that was where we ate our dinner, candlelit but not quite something to romanticize. This is just like Villa Escudero, we joked anyway, remembering the restaurant we had dined at that was next to a waterfall. Pretending the current at our feet was anything but rainwater and devastation. My dad and I walked around our neighborhood the next day, surveying the destruction the typhoon left in its wake. 

Months later, the administration of my high school would announce that in light of recent events, they wouldn’t be holding the annual junior-senior prom. It was done out of respect for the victims, they reasoned, and there were also budgeting concerns because the school suffered its fair share of damages. 

I don’t think about it these days, but once in a while it would come back to me. At the time most of the students would talk about it like it was the end of the world. Part of it didn’t make sense to me—couldn’t there have been a compromise, especially for the seniors? Now, though, it’s just another little anomaly about my adolescence that makes for a good conversation starter: One year, we skipped the prom. As in, we didn’t hold one.

I always meant to skip my junior prom anyway. The idea of dressing up stressed me out, I didn’t dance, it wasn’t worth such a hefty expense. I thought it would be cooler to hold an Anti-Prom Party as an act of nonconformity instead. At the time my favorite movie had been 10 Things I Hate About You and I fancied myself akin to Kat Stratford, was never one to go starry-eyed when it came time for the prom scene in a teen movie regardless. Not even with Heath Ledger in a tux and Letters to Cleo performing “Cruel to Be Kind” in the background. 

But senior year was different—this time, I wanted it all. To satisfy the curiosity of what it was like, to have this last hurrah.

The truth is, I barely remember much of the prom I did get to have. I’ve lived twice the life I had at sixteen, after all. I have no idea why I don’t have a single picture either. When I look back on it, I think of how beautiful my friends all looked and how I wished I could always keep them with me. And did you really go to high school in the late aughts/early tens if your prom playlist didn’t include “Can I Have This Dance?” from High School Musical 3 and “So Close” from Enchanted? 

It was also a night of so many firsts for me. First time shaving my legs. First time curling my hair. First time wearing contacts, which I ditched within weeks and never tried again because I thought I lost one while applying them one morning and turned out it had been sucked into and stuck inside my eye socket the whole day. 

First dance after first dance, including one with the boy I’d written most of my lovelorn poetry about. We’d drifted to each other’s sides like we hadn’t even been thinking about it, pulling together into something that couldn’t decide whether it was a waltz or a slow dance. His hand hovered at my waist, but the other was warm and solid in my own, and we avoided eye contact until we had to part. Don’t ask me what song was playing—I wouldn’t have even been able to tell the morning after.

Months later I would see Prom, the utterly forgettable and mostly forgotten movie, in the cinema on my break. I was completely alone in the theater, the sole ticket sold, and it was an interesting enough experience that I started a new blog and wrote about it as soon as I got home. That blog became a place for me to develop my writing voice and document my teenage years. By then, I was a freshman in university, and it hardly even occurred to me that my own prom wasn’t even all that long ago. It had been only four months, but everything in my life was different, and for once I wasn’t dwelling on the past. 

I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to finish this. None of this had been on my mind in years, until one day I recalled that little blip when I was fifteen where tragedy struck and our prom was canceled, except the tragedy wasn’t hyperbole and had nothing to do with the prom. But there’s one thing I really wanted to write about, and it’s this: 

My prom dress was born out of a magazine clipping, an ad in Vogue for Louis Vuitton’s Fall 2010 collection. Three women primping and preening in a dressing room wearing gorgeous dresses with vintage silhouettes. One of them had her hands at her waist, and immediately I knew that she was wearing my prom dress: Sabrina neckline, sleeves up to her elbows, sheer bodice and delicate layers. 

My mom and I went to a house somewhere in Novaliches or Fairview, the torn-out magazine page clutched in my hands, so we could have a designer recreate the dress. Midnight blue lace and a bubbly, swishy layered skirt, so it would look less like I was attending a funeral. (My mom’s words.) I’d never been so excited. It turned out so beautiful. 

We borrowed a clutch from my aunt, and we searched for the perfect shoes at the mall: rounded toes, wedge heels for comfort, gleaming with gem accents all over. I would wear them around the house before the big day, head spinning with images of my new life as someone who actually wore heels instead of ballet flats and Converse. 

So much of that night was about me becoming a new person. I was graduating high school soon, I was finding my identity and independence, I was growing up. 

Only, not just yet. My parents drove to the fancy country club banquet hall to pick me up. The first thing I removed was my corsage, as soon as I saw them. They brought me flip-flops and helped me out of my heels. My curls flattened out. I had the contact lens incident not long after. My dress was tucked away in a closet, but it might as well have been permanent storage. And as for the shoes? It wasn’t long before I never saw them again. 

I went right back to my Buddy Holly glasses and my rotation of flats and sneakers, but that didn’t mean I stopped trying to discover who I could become—they were just part of who I was, and they weren’t all I had to be. By then I knew better than to box myself in. And, wow, if that isn’t the most Kat Stratford thing of all.

All the traces and reminiscences

I take back what I said about disposable cameras while traveling. The plastic waste made my eye twitch, and I realized I could just spend P200 on a new Aquapix that I wouldn’t mind scratching up. Smaller, cuter, more film options. The one I got is lime green (or Neo Pearl Champagne), which coincidentally was the color of the first Aquapix I ever owned. 

When I went to Seoul I loaded it with Lomography LomoChrome ’92, which captured the autumn of it all pretty well. The shot above is my favorite, taken at Yeouido Hangang Park. The original composition was perfect, but I had to crop it because part of my finger was in frame. Still obsessed. 

The picture on the left was taken last February when I first went to Seoul. I found myself in the same area from the other side and unwittingly took a bookender in November. 

This little pizza nook was so cute and I wanted to step inside, but I’d already booked a ride back to my hotel. 

I’m just absolutely in love with the street that greets you from Anguk Station and the many possibilities it holds. 

Of course I had to make a diptych of both shots I took before exiting certain subway stations. I want to make it a whole series as I keep traveling to Seoul. 

These don’t have the pops of red from the floor and ceiling that the photos I took on my phone do, but I like how they have a more glitch-y feel. 

I loved walking past the row of shops outside my hotel as I made my way to the subway. There’s a flower shop, a bakery, this fruit stand, and a place that had steaming dumplings right on the street, so I’d catch their delicious scent and warmth every time I passed. 

This didn’t turn out as well but I liked the composition and it would be so fun to draw.  

More subway stairs. I like how this one has a bit more to see of the street beyond.

Flowers at a bus stop in the middle of the road as the day winds down.