zoom with a view

Nancy (of Countdown to Mexico) commented yesterday that I should have included photographs in yesterday's post about my new camera.


Great idea. I wish I had thought of it.


I sorted through my output over the past month -- trying to choose examples of shots that have made a difference with the new camera.


The photograph at the top is an example. My prior camera did not have the pixels to pick up the details of Salem's tallest building -- or the textural variations in the Autumn sky.

This is a sentimental favorite. It is impossible to miss this dog on the beach. He is the class clown.


If he is not worrying a coconut shell to death, he is pestering strangers to throw it into the sea where he will retrieve it. Again. And again. And again.


But, more than that, he simply likes to dig holes in the beach. Simply because he can. In this shot, I used a sports setting with a high speed shutter in the macro. My old camera could not have captured the sand as the dog tossed it out of his excavation.


OK. Some of you are thinking this is just the dog I need to adopt. But he does not want to be adopted. He has friends everywhere, and no desire to be anyone's dog. He is his own.

I wish I could remember the setting I used for this shot. I simply liked the combination of the horizontal driftwood matched with the sea's horizon. I was also impressed with the different hues of blue that the camera was able to distinguish.

The 18X optical zoom tied with its 12 megapixel capture picks up some interesting detail. This shot is the highest point on a war memorial -- a hand grenade held aloft. I took it at full zoom.

This is another zoom picture, but it illustrates a different point. On full zoom, the heron was only a small portion of the photograph. After severe cropping, I ended up with a photograph that looks as if the image filled the view finder. This works only because of the megapixel capacity.

This was a tricky shot.


I hate getting too close to people when I am shooting. For some reason, I dislike being intrusive. But I was close enough to this couple not to need my zoom. I include it because of the color and detail.

There are bloggers amongst us who rail at closeup photographs of flowers.


Well, this bud's for you.


Abraham Lincoln once said: "People who like this sort of thing will find this the sort of thing they like." That is true of the closeup macro on my new camera. Lots of options. Lots of good results. Just look at the rain drops.


So, there is a little bit of what comes out of this new camera. I trust you will be seeing more in the very near future.


No matter where I am.

mi recámara

You may have noticed an improvement in my photographs since early October.


If you haven't; I have.


The sole reason is my new camera. After a bit of assistance from a number of you (through a glass darkly), I decided to purchase a Panasonic FZ-35.


I wanted a camera that had some of the ease of a point and shoot, but also had the ability to override the built-in macros to perform more like an SLR camera. This camera met that basic criterion.


Along with the ability to shoot at 12 megapixels and an 18X optical zoom.


For me, the zoom is far more important. The wide vistas of the Mexican Pacific coast gives me a great field of vision for shots. But many of those shots are simply beyond the range of a point and shoot.


My last camera taught me the value of a powerful zoom. I will never buy another camera without one.


But there is one downside. The camera body is about the size of an SLR camera -- just a bit smaller. It certainly will not fit in a pocket without some rather morally-pointed stares.


That means I need to carry a back pack with me when I go out on shoots. Not really a big deal.


The camera has also given me an opportunity to relearn basic photography skills. Because I can set the camera as if it were an SLR, I need to recall all of those principles that are now on a dusty shelf somewhere in the south of Greece. But it will be fun to relearn what I have forgotten through disuse.


My bottom line is that is a great camera.


The question is whether or not you will enjoy the photographs.


I promise to use it on my upcoming trip.

gidgets wanted

My little fishing village on the Mexican coast is not a hotbed of athletics.


As in any town in Mexico, there are the odd football matches. And even a rodeo or two. But Melaque is not known for its sports society.


With one big exception --skim boarding.


I have commented several times that the waves on my beach are not swimmer friendly.


The pitch is steep enough that the waves do not merely pound the sand. They slam it. The WWF has nothing on drama queen noises in comparison with the sounds the ocean makes when greeting the shore.


But that violent one-break surf creates a veritable Aspen for the local skim boarders.


If you do not know what a skim board is, think of a short surf board that is smooth on the bottom.


The boarder waits on the beach for a likely wave. If he spies one, he tears off in Jesse Owens style.


When he hits the surf line on the wet sand, he drops his board (taking advantage of another Newtonian rule of physics), jumps on it, and sails out into the surf, where he catches the curl of the wave.

Most of them are in their teens. Some are older. But, unlike snow skiing, it is a sport not to be enjoyed by white-haired men, no matter how many wily tricks they may have learned. Wiles do not equal balance.


But watching these guys on their boards is a cultural potpourri. Graceful as ballet. Enchanting as the Cirque du Soleil. Invigorating as active youth can be.


What is missing are young women. Oh, they are at the beach. Lined up in a row with their babies. Watching their men grapple with nature. All attired in proper Nazarene Church camp summer wear.


I asked one of the young women why she was not a boarder. She simply laughed, and said: "That's for boys." And looked at me as if I had just asked why boys don't wear skirts.


I have heard there are some women skim boarders. I simply have not seen them in my stay at the beach.


Until they do appear, I will have to be satisfied with watching the fathers of the little babies who accompany the women on the beach.

death takes a holiday

Near the end of Annie Hall, Alvy and Annie are dividing their property. Looking at a stack of books, Annie says:

Now, look, all the books with death and dying are yours, and all the poetry books are mine.

If you changed the character names to Mexico and America, you would just about sum about the respective attitudes of each nation toward death.


Death is a timely topic. It is always, of course.


But death rides high this week in Mexico -- with its Day of the Dead celebrations.

I drove to the local cemetery today and yesterday. It is a fair distance to drive from town. When I got there, I found a couple cars and a few knots of relatives in the cemetery. Hardly the mob scene I had been told to anticipate.


I stopped, but decided not to intrude with my camera. After all, I would feel a bit violated if a stranger with a camera elbowed into our family's Memorial Day grave decoration ceremony.


The celebration caused me to organize some thoughts I have been mulling over during the last few weeks.


Mexicans seem to have a natural relationship with death. Perhaps because it seems that much closer to people who have few material goods. Or it could be the effect that Roman Catholicism has had on the general public. As Anne Lamott points out "a basic tenet of the Christian faith is that death is really just a major change of address."


Whatever the reason, their remembrance of their dead relatives through stylized demonstrations is not emotional on the surface. In fact, it appears to be quite loving.


Americans do not share that view of death. I have several friends who will not discuss it with me. An American doctor friend tells me that he is amazed at how many of his patients say "if I die," rather than "when I die." Another young friend told me he thinks that death will be conquered by science by the time he gets to be my age (40 more years).


Of course, there are exceptions. I have been fascinated with death all of my life. And another friend told me recently that he has been hiding his fascination with the topic because everyone else thinks he is weird to discuss it.


That is why an American newspaper could run a headline "Mexico death museum lives up to morbid name" with a story about the Mexican National Museum of Death. The story goes on to refer to "the country's macabre interest in kicking the bucket."


Morbid? Macabre? Simply because the topic is death.


When I read Babs's post yesterday morning, several pieces came together. She wrote about the emotional turmoil that she went through when building an altar for her daughter: Jennifer's Altar. But when the altar was complete, she felt a sense of peace.


I suspect that is what we Americans attempt to avoid when discussing death. We want the peace on the cheap -- without the emotional turmoil.


Yesterday I did not feel well. I ended up sleeping most of the day. But my death thoughts seem to have triggered something.


I had a dream. I was in a strange apartment. There was a knock at the door. I opened it, and there stood a liveried chauffeur. No idea who he was. But he said: "Sir, the car is ready."


I followed him down two flights of stairs to an urban street where a Duesenberg J awaited. He opened the door. I got in.


Even though I was alone; I was not alone. There were about eight other people in the car. But they were ethereal. My dad. My grandmother. My Aunt Bessie. Some people I have not yet met.


But they were all looking forward. No social interchange at all.


But that is what I get for thinking too much on this topic.


Of course, it would have been a far better tale if it had been a carriage and my fellow passenger was Miss Emily Dickinson.


Because we could have shared our books -- of poetry and death.

altars and friendship

My friend and fellow blogger, Gloria, has posted photographs and commentary on her Day of the Dead altar.


She has graciously included Professor Jiggs amongst her family members and pets. Jiggs would appreciate it.

I certainly do.

harvey's burger bar

There is a new meat market in town.


Well, a new cooked meat market. A burger bar.


There have long been hamburger joints in Melaque. But this is a new concept.


The owner, long-time resident Harvey, has combined good food with a great location.


The restaurant is located where Cesar and Charley's once did business -- next to the Hotel Monterey. But more importantly, the view takes in the full bay.


Most restaurants with a good view have little more to offer. But Harvey's has great food.


Here is the concept. You can build your own burger.


First, start with a 100% sirloin patty, a grilled chicken breast, fish, or a vegan burger. A nice selection.


Second, add some traditional or not-so-traditional vegetable toppings -- the "healthy" refuge of we burger eaters.


Third, spread on some sauces. From honey mustard to tartar.


And, of course, french fries or sweet potato fries.


I ate there twice -- trying the sirloin and the chicken breast. Both were extremely good. And the secret is that all of the ingredients were top rate.


Better than that, though, it is a great place to meet new people. You can heard Anne Murray warbling in the distance. The snowbirds have started to arrive and this appears to be a new roost for them. And a good roost it is.


Good view. Good food. Good company.


Who could ask for anything more?

lines in the sand

A friend was talking with me the other day about his favorite television program: CSI.


He may have planted the idea. But I think this may be more than my imagination.


Doesn't the photograph look as if CSI is filming a homicide episode in my back yard?


What I want to know is what type of body would leave an outline like that? And did it fall out of the coconut tree?


I doubt I will be producing any television programs in the near future.