Vagabond Jim

 "Asides" will be occasional series; my ramblings on subjects that are dear to me and of importance to the blog but not a destination.   Modern photography is amazing.  The computational stuff has made it VERY easy to get a stunning exposure. Whereas on used to have to think about how and how much light to let hit the film, no one needn't.  All.  The move away from chemicals to pixels made that not just possible but inevitable.  The old trade of was to choose between a fast burst through a wide opening (a small aperture (f-stop)  = large opening) or a long exposure (slow shutter speed). Short exposures with a wide open iris would stop motion - think sports. Tiny apertures with long exposures would create amazing depth of field (how much of the picture is in fine detail, moving along an axis away from the film) - think Ansel Adams.  (And his colleagues in the f/64 club.) Assuming that was done right, there was still room to screw up.  In the dark room.  I never played ther

This is a pretty boring place if one doesn't speak Castilian well.  That's OK, I need a new type of boredom.  One that makes my feet sore, my heart thump, and can occasionally lead to backspasms. Quito is for wanderers.  It suits me. After writing this afternoon it was too early to retire.  And, I knew I'd need something else to eat.  I wandered.  What'd I see? Stuff like this, a gigantic convent on Plaza San Francisco.  Don't ask, I cannot remember which order  of nuns. That last shot is the best one I've taken so far, in my estimation.  It really captures the moment and place.  What I see is what I was experiencing.  That's cool.  It was not altered other than a crop.  That's the untouched colors and exposure.  So cool. Not bad for a phone camera that I do not like.  I do appreciate that it is making me think compositionally.  A lot.  Wide angle lenses are new to me.  My thoughts on photo equipment in the future are being reconsidered. Oh, a condor - w

Day 3: - 01Jun23 Written: Quito, ~1500 First: Happy Birthday, Dad! What a day so far. I thought I'd head to the other end of town.  (No, I cannot remember if it's North or South.) The Cathedral (OK, that makes it the southern end.  I think.) side. About half way there I though a bird shit on me.  Then two guys started to try to help clean off what was more like mustard than bird poop.  I knew something was wrong.  How could it come from above only touch my hat brim above but stretch down my neck to my right leg.  Makes no sense.  It must have come from behind.  Bells and whistles started in my head. One guy started cleaning my left leg.  Which happened to have a zippered pocket on the side of my thigh.   And did not have stinky stuff on it.  Alarms, klaxons, and "hooters" (So. African for a klaxon) started SCREAMING. Full alert, this is not a drill! I looked.  The pocket was open.  I slapped a hand; my wallet fell to the ground.  I stepped on it.  Suddenly my helpers