While in Merida, I decided to do something wildly out of character—I hired a stranger to take photos of me.
I’ve never felt comfortable in front of a camera. I’m far more comfortable behind the camera, and more often than not, I’m the one taking photos of others. I used to be so averse to people taking photos of me that I have very few pictures of myself during high school and early college. It was during those years that I got my first DSLR camera, and I was always the one behind the lens. But I realized near the end of my years in college that I’d regret not having photos to look back on one day, so I gradually started making a conscious effort to be in more photos. Still, I feel like the world’s most awkward creature when a camera is pointed at me.
When I started submitting my writing to publications in my mid-20s, I started running into the problem of never having an author photo to submit with my essays. Most publications will ask for a headshot to put next to your bio, and 90% of the photos I had of myself were of me either in a group or holding a strange dog or my niece or like, a possum. The only professional photos I’d ever had taken were required for yearbooks or staff pages at former jobs (plus also some circus performance photos that I LOVE but would perhaps not be the right thing to submit with an unrelated piece of writing). Several years ago, I had a friend of mine who’s a professional photographer take some headshots of me, and finally I had a few high-quality photos to send to publications and use on my website. But more recently, I’ve realized that I don’t have many photos of me traveling.
Because most of the travel I do is solo, I have to make a conscious effort to take photos of myself. Most of the time these are awful selfies, but sometimes I’ll ask a random tourist to take a photo for me. (Sometimes these turn out lovely, and sometimes I look painfully awkward. Please see evidence below of a photo a stranger took of me in Merida. Why do I look like a stork? Why am I elongated? What should I be doing with my arms?! Why am I this way?! Help!)
I have some lovely photos that Michael and my mom took when they were with me in Europe, but I have very few from the majority of the trip when I was alone. When I’m backpacking with just a carry-on bag, I only bring my cell phone for photos, and I can’t imagine a world in which I’d feel anything but absurd pulling out a tripod and posing for self-timed photos.
Something I saw frequently while traveling in Europe were photographers advertising photoshoots for tourists on websites like Viator and Airbnb Experiences. You can browse through sample photos they’ve taken and see reviews and look at their schedules. Often these are marketing toward couples for their honeymoons or engagements, or sometimes families. But sometimes there were solo individuals in the photos who just wanted to document their solo journey. And I decided I should make myself try it.
Merida seemed like the perfect place for a photoshoot. The vibrant colors and rustic buildings looked like perfect backdrops for street photos. But I worried that it would be hard to find exactly what I was looking for in a photographer. A lot of destination photographers do elaborate photoshoots where they put you in giant, flowing gowns or period costumes or settings that look incredibly beautiful but also unnatural. I didn’t want that. I wanted to look like myself.
I finally found the perfect photographer on Airbnb Experiences. Antonio was new to the Airbnb website, so he didn’t have a ton of reviews yet, but all the ones he had were excellent. (I learned later that he’s spent years as a wedding photographer and more recently started offering photoshoots for travelers.) His prices were unbeatable. Most importantly, I loved his photos. The times on his page didn’t work for my schedule, but he very generously worked with me to find a time that we could both do. I booked a private slot.
And then I started feeling increasingly self-conscious as our photoshoot got closer. Would I be a stiff and awkward statue? (Probably.) What on earth was I supposed to wear? Would I be taking those cringeworthy photos I see on Instagram where people pretend to gaze wistfully into the distance? I’d never in my life had a stranger take my photo. How weird would it feel?
I finally accepted that I would, inevitably, feel awkward, and that that was fine. What’s the harm in a couple of hours of awkwardness? If I ended up not liking the photos, it would be worth the affordable cost to give it a try. I wouldn’t follow this stranger down any dark alleys. We’d be outside in daylight or in public spaces the whole time. And I wouldn’t worry about what to wear or trying to fix my hair. I’d be sweating immediately after going outside anyway, so I just grabbed two casual dresses I wear all the time. I had a necklace with Chewie’s profile on it, a Fitbit on my wrist, and sunglasses that were falling apart. I wanted to look like myself, after all.
And it truly could not have been a more wonderful experience. Antonio exceeded all my expectations. We met in one of the most beautiful neighborhoods of Merida which I may never have found on my own. If I hadn’t trusted his suggestion, I may never have seen it. He was personable, genuine, funny, and he understood exactly what I was hoping to get from the photoshoot. He had such an intuitive understanding of color, depth, and shadow, and it felt like watching someone who absolutely loves their work doing exactly what they’re made for. We laughed together the whole time, and it didn’t feel like a stranger was taking my photos—it felt like a lighthearted and encouraging friend was taking them. In addition to coming away from the photoshoot with photos I loved, I also felt more confident and like I’d made a new friend. If ever you’re in Merida, I cannot recommend Antonio enough—both his photos of individuals and couples are incredible.
From now on, I’ll recommend looking for a photoshoot to anyone who asks me for travel advice. Thanks to my wonderful experience with Antonio, I’ll seek out other photoshoot opportunities wherever I travel in the future. Being able to laugh at yourself when you feel awkward is never a bad thing, and it’s entirely worth it to venture out of your comfort zone and make memories like these.
(All photos of me taken by Antonio. Except for that one in front of the Merida sign where I look like an awkward stork, obviously.)
