A return to travel shaped by slower steps and careful looking
After two years of staying close to home, travelling again felt unfamiliar. I wanted the trip to Yucatán to be different from the ones before the pandemic, when days were filled with screens, backups and the pressure to bring home as many images as possible. This time I packed only an analog camera and a few rolls of film, hoping it would help me pay attention in a quieter way.
It took a few days to adjust. Without a screen to check, every frame became a small decision. I watched the light more carefully, waited longer than I normally would, and paid attention to details I might have overlooked before. The shutter gave nothing away. I had to trust what I saw.
Yucatán revealed itself in a rhythm that shifted throughout the day. In the heat of the afternoon the streets felt almost empty, washed out by the brightness and stillness. But as soon as the sun began to drop, the pace changed. People stepped outside, conversations drifted through open doors, food stalls appeared, and the colours softened.
Tourists moved through these scenes in their own rhythm. Sometimes they blended in, sometimes they stood out, and sometimes they became more interesting than the places they were visiting. When the usual sights were crowded, I often turned the camera towards the people looking at them. Small gestures, brief pauses, fleeting expressions that revealed something of the moment.
By the time I returned home and developed the rolls, the images felt like a record of how it was to start travelling again: slower, more attentive, and more open to whatever unfolded. The photographs weren’t my best, but they carried the feeling I hoped for.
