Rome in Black & White

I recently visited Rome, in the height of summer, on a weekend break with one of my sisters are her seven-year-old son. It certainly wasn't the most ideal time or conditions for capturing Rome from a photographic point of view, but I made the most of it, combining sight-seeing and spending time with family with the odd snap or two.

I first visited Rome in November 2010 and it was grey, cold and wet and I didn't like the place all that much, perhaps as a result of the weather, or perhaps just because I couldn't make sense of the mish-mash of ancient, old and new all cobbled together haphazardly. This time I at least knew what to expect the city to look like, and the skies were clear and blue, although this was accompanied by temperatures soaring far higher than I feel comfortable with (at least 32° C). The apartment we stayed in had no air-conditioning, just an ineffectual fan, so I was forced to sleep, ear-plug-less, with the windows wide open onto a noisy square (screaming children and yappy dogs at 1am not appreciated!). As a result of the excessive heat, dreadful nights' sleep and unnecessarily unfriendly waiters, I still didn't come away loving the place.

In spite of that, the architecture, cultural wealth and the history are undeniably impressive. I'd warned my sister that my nephew probably wouldn't be interested in much of the cultural side, the but she was keen to see the Sistine Chapel, so we gave the Vatican Museum a go anyway. I'd paid the €4 per ticket to book online, avoiding the long queue to get in along the City wall outside, but inside the queue continued - right to the Chapel. It was absolutely rammed and the journey past endless riches through the painted corridors to the prized chapel took over 45 minutes, shuffling along with the other tourists, everybody snapping away. It was so packed and hot that it was hard to appreciate the immense treasures we were passing by.  It was less crowded on the return journey, but by that time the seven-year-old was definitely over it (we were too, actually), and so we walked swiftly to the exit (via the wonderful iconic spiral staircase, below (and gift-shop, of course)) and headed off in search of spaghetti bolognese. I took a few shots inside (not in the Sistine Chapel, of course, as it is forbidden there), but in spite of the 5DIII's great low light capabilities they still didn't come out brilliantly.

Over the weekend we took metro trains, buses and a tram and visited many of the usual sights - the Piazza San Pietro in the Vatican City (I'm obsessed with those magnificent pillars!), the Colisseum (also worth the €2 a ticket online booking fee to avoid the queues) and nearby Palatine Hill, had a good wander past some other sights (the Trevi Fountain - currently under wraps, the Spanish Steps, the Pantheon, the imposing Altare della Patria, Castel Sant'Angelo) and took an open-top bus tour to see a bit more. We watched the supermoon rise over Ponte Sant'Angelo after the sun had set behind the Vatican City. We visited my favourite restaurant from my previous visit (Enoteca Cul de Sac) in hope of their delicious onion soup, only to find it isn't served in summer (the lasagne wasn't bad, instead).

Upon my return home I sifted through the hundreds of photos and began processing a few. One thing that had struck me while I was there was that we were often out in the middle of the day, with harsh overhead sun and deep blue skies (away from the sun, anyway), which would make for striking black and white images. With this in mind I'd tried to capture images that would make the most of this contrast as well as conveying the feeling of the blistering sun.

I've recently started using a programme called Perfect Effects 8 for my black and white processing, as it gives huge scope and control over the process which is somewhat basic in Photoshop Elements. I love playing around with the channels and contrast to find the right look, ensuring that the blue skies become dark (move the filter slider over to the red side), the highlights aren't blown out, textures remain strong, the mass of people stand out like little ants and the buildings pop out at you, while still looking real. I finished these images off with a fairly strong dark vignette to make the subject stand out even more. The occasional cirrus cloud lingering around adds a welcome contrast to the skies.

These images (and many more - including some colour ones!) can be seen (bigger) on my website and are available for purchase.

Midsummer in the Lofoten Islands

I've seen the midnight sun before a few times, and there is something exciting about it to begin with. For a photographer, however, it's not the best time of year to visit the Arctic - unless, that is, you enjoy staying up all night. The days are bright (if there is any sunshine, of course) and the golden hours come between 10.30pm and 3.30am - not the ideal time for any normal being. There is no dawn or dusk, no blue hour, no dark skies. But I didn't visit the Lofoten Islands over midsummer for a dedicated photography trip; it was a last-minute holiday grabbed with my husband, and we both enjoyed it very much - speeding ticket aside, so I mustn't complain too much.

Crepuscular Rays over the Norwegian Sea at Kvalvika Beach

The Lofoten Islands are a small chain of islands just north of the Arctic circle in Norway, with magnificent peaks that jut out at steep angles from the sea. Getting there is no easy feat - requiring at least an internal flight from Oslo, and then either a long drive in an expensive rental car, another short hop in a plane, or a not-very-conveniently-timed boat-trip from the mainland. We chose the first option, flying from Oslo into a little airport called Evenes or Harstad/Narvik, from where we rented a car, stayed overnight in Bogen nearby, before embarking on the long drive south-west through Hinnøya (Norway's fourth-largest island) before arriving in the Lofoten Islands themselves.

The view from our hotel, Evenes Fjordhotel, near Bogen

We spent our second night in the town of Svolvær, the largest settlement on the islands, after driving for a few hours through pleasant scenery. Svolvær is a nice-enough town with an array of impressive mountains in the distance (including the islands' highest peak - Higravstinden, at 1,161m), a harbour, a few restaurants, some swanky hotels, and place to take boat-trips around the surrounding fjords. We took a drive around the area, stopping at the local aquarium to see the bizarre-looking wolf-fish, before taking a loop drive around the northern part of Austvågøya past the lighthouse at Laukvik. The weather had deteriorated as the day had gone on and the peaks were now shrouded with an ethereal fog. Our fingers froze in the fierce cold winds at the lighthouse. About 20km before getting back to Svolvær we were pulled over by a traffic cop hiding in a driveway behind a bush and fined a whopping 4,200 krone (about £420 or $715) for driving 66kmph in a 50. It somewhat ruined Svolvær for us, and we were glad to leave the following morning (having gone through the arduous exercise of actually trying to pay the damned fine - you have to pay cash at the police station - they don't accept foreign cards).

Laukvik Lighthouse

Misty hills on the north side of Austvågøya 

The view from our hotel, Thon Lofoten, in Svolvaer

On the way south the road goes through endless tunnels and over steep bridges. We made a short stop at Unstad beach, not far from Leknes - the other reasonable-sized town - on the way to Hamnøy, where we had rented a rorbu (fisherman's cabin) for 4 nights. At Unstad a surf-lesson was going on, and I took a few long exposure shots of massive rocks at the far edge of the beach, with the sun peaking out briefly.

Long exposure at Unstad Beach

From there we continued onwards, but our journey was slowed considerably by summer roadworks on the road just outside of Hamnøy. The road is being rebuilt, with massive open-sided tunnels being built to protect the road from the frequent boulder falls from the mountains above. The road is closed for about 15 minutes while they blast a few rocks, and then each line of traffic is guided through in turn. Throughout the summer nights they close the road between 11pm and 1am and then again from 2am until 5.30am while they continue working in the available light. I hope the works will be finished soon, as it definitely impedes one's ability to explore the area.

We spent our first full day hanging out in the delightful rorbu (see my earlier blog on our first rainy day there). Wifi helped us while away the hours, and I did manage to get a few shots of the mountains across the fjord, in spite of the horrible weather. The winds rattled the rorbu but we felt safe and snug inside. Gulls struggled to stay on their feet on the rocks outside the cabin.

Looking out at our neighbours as the rain fell...

A large herring gull tries to stay upright in the gusty winds

The sun briefly came out in the early evening over Lilandstinden, one of the peaks above the cabin.

 

The following day the weather was considerably better so we did a wonderful hike up from Sørvgen to the Munkebu Huts (thanks to Cody Duncan and his wonderful site www.68north.com for all the detailed information about hikes in the Lofotens). It took us a little longer than anticipated and skies cleared as we reached the huts. The hike back down was glorious - the views throughout the trek are fantastic.

Some hikers below us on the way down from the Munkebu Huts

Murray crossing some late snow just above the Munkebu Huts

One of the many picturesque small lakes on the way up to the Munkebu Huts 

A view down to a bridge on the E10 between Reine and Sørvågen

When we returned from the hike the sun was just above the Olstind peak opposite the cabin and poured spectacular rays across the hills as it moved slowly northwards.


The next day we decided to do an evening hike to Kvalvika beach, hoping to catch some real midnight sun (although it doesn't actually face due north, so it wouldn't have happened anyway!), so we took it easy during the day and headed back down to the charming village of Å, at the end of the E10, where we had a short stroll and then managed to locate the bakery and scoffed a couple of their delicious cinnamon rolls, chatting to a couple of intrepid young American guys who were travelling around the region by public transport, and camping along the way.

Picturesque traditional buildings in Å

Delicious cinnamon rolls at the bakery in Å, part of the museum there

We set off towards Kvalvika in the late afternoon - via the laborious roadworks - and ate in Ramberg, a pleasant little place with a long white beach. Heavy clouds sat above the hills in the direction that we were planning to hike.

The long expanse of white sand at Ramberg

We then drove back and across the bridges towards Fredvang, where we parked the car and set off on our trek. To get to Kvalvika beach you have to hike up about 200m, taking about an hour, before a steep hike down to the beach. It is worth it, though, as it's quite an impressive beach, split into two with some boulders inbetween. The sea was an incredible green colour, only visible at its best briefly as the sun peaked through from the clouds. My husband explored each beach (finding a few plastic bins and fish containers from random towns in the UK) while I set up the tripod and took a few long exposure shots (my favourite!). There were some pretty crepuscular rays seeping out over the sea, but the midnight sun was not going to appear.

Even without sunshine the sea appears amazingly green. This is the northerly of the two beaches at Kvalivka; 25 second exposure

After clambering across the rocky area between the two beaches I took a few long exposures of the southerly beach at Kvalvika; this is a 1.3 second exposure

By the time we'd left the beach and climbed the massive hill the golden hour had arrived, although the sun was still behind clouds to the north. The views from the pass were lovely in both directions.

Nice light looking back over Kvalvika beach once we reached the top of the pass 

Sunset light over the mountains to the east seen from the top of the pass on the way back from Kvalvika

Once we'd got back down the other side we'd already missed our window-of-opportunity to reach the road while it was open. We took a drive around a few fjords to kill time, knowing we needed to be back at the edge of the roadworks between 1 and 2am in order to get back to bed, so we couldn't go too far. We drove to a quaint little fishing village called Nusfjord where I took a few shots at midnight, before driving back, waiting to pass the works, and finally getting home at about 1.30am.

Picturesque Nusfjord at midnight

On our last full day in the islands we checked out of our lovely rorbu - nearly leaving our delicious juniper-smoked salmon in the fridge - and drove north-east again, stopping at the picturesque Haukland beach. The beach is also split into two parts and has pure white sand, and the sun actually came out while we were there. It was one of the prettiest beaches I'd ever seen - like a tropical beach but without the palm trees (and a wee bit colder too!).

The stunning Haukland beach

We continued through Leknes where we stopped for a delicious lunch of bacalao and fish curry at Johnsen's Fiskerestaurant. We hadn't know about the place but stumbled upon it - what a find!

Delicious bacalao - a tomato-based stew made with salt cod - absolutely yummy!

We continues on to Henningsvær, another pretty fishing village with a backdrop of jagged peaks, via a lovely back-road with very few other cars around. Most of the Lofotens actually seems quite built-up, with houses dotted every few km along the E10 main road. It was nice to get off the beaten-track and feel a bit more remote. There were also far fewer Dutch camper-vans along that stretch.

We ate in a smart restaurant in town and finally tried a dish of semi-rehydrated stockfish (the dried cod that we'd seen hanging everywhere throughout the islands). It wasn't particularly nice, but we managed to eat most of it it! It was a nice little village to wander around, with typical old Scandinavian houses dotted around a couple of islands, connected with bridges. The place has lots of fishing and sailing boats, as well as being a centre for rock-climbing in the area. It also has a fantastic modern art gallery, which we visited the following morning before heading back to the airport, in an old converted caviar factory (Kavi Factory). Throughout the town one can also spot stencil graffiti by a local artist (Pobel) - a little bit like our own Banksy.

The view of Henningsvær from our hotel, the Finnholmen Brygge

Chairs outside the Kavi Factory in Henningsvær

A stencil graffiti work by the local artist Pobel, seen in the toilet in the Kavi Factory art gallery - worth nipping inside to have a look!

The drive back was long and slow - we didn't dare drive a km over the speed limit after the earlier incident, and in retrospect it would have been more efficient to fly into Bodø and then fly into Leknes from there, but I booked it in a hurry and didn't have time to do much research. While the scenery is still mountainous on Hinnøya it's certainly not as spectacular as the Lofotens themselves and the drive is a bit tedious at 80kmph (although there are a few stretches as you hit the mainland where it increases to an almost normal speed of 90kmph!).

I'm considering returning for my winter photography trip, to see the islands in better light, with snow and ice, with the golden hours at a reasonable time of the day, and of course with a chance to see the northern lights over the stunning peaks. I'm not sure if I can keep away from Iceland, though! We shall see; it's a long time until next March...

Six minute exposure of the view from our cabin, Thomas Bua (no.1) at Eliassen Rorbuer, taken at 12.35am

More photos fro this trip can be seen on my website.

A Long Weekend in Prague - 33 Years Later...

I first visited Prague as a child, on a family holiday aged 10. It was back in the days of the Iron Curtain and my main memories of the overnight trip from our base in Germany was that it was grey. Windy, grey, cold and dreary, in spite of being mid-July. I looked at my parents' photos from the trip the night before I left, and they were probably what had moulded my memory - pictures of me, my mum and three sisters posing on Charles Bridge, our unflattering bowl haircuts flying around in the wind.

So a few decades later I finally returned. It is a completely different country, not just geopolitically, but also bears little resemblance to that depressed communist place of my childhood. Everywhere I looked were spires and towers, statues and relief upon most buildings, brightness, colour, sunshine, even!

I was visiting with my husband and his father, prior to them heading to Passau for a river boat cruise down the Danube to Budapest. A few days in Prague seemed like the natural prelude, and I accompanied them (obviously armed with my camera kit). We spent the first day wandering the city with the throngs of other tourists - across Charles Bridge, up the steep Nerudova hill to a viewpoint at the north end of Petrin Hill, down to the St. Vitus Cathedral and Prague Castle, before heading back into town to the heaving Old Town Square, via a modern restaurant where we had some delicious pork medallions with a creamy wild mushroom sauce for lunch. We waited around to see the hourly performance by the astronomical clock (a highly missable event), surrounded by tourists taking "selfies" and then meandered through the cobbled streets to the hotel. The rain then came and that finished off the sight-seeing for day 1. We headed out for dinner, the recommended restaurant was full, so found a lively (and a little smoky) beer hall for a very disappointing goulash (served with highly missable bread dumplings) but delicious Master beer. We dropped my father-in-law back at the hotel and then headed back out to a nearby wine bar, consumed some average Czech wine and some really disgusting cheese (it was nearly up there for inedibility with the mares milk cheese I'd tried to eat in Mongolia) before calling it a night.

We woke up to grey skies and a forecast of sunlessness, so headed north on the metro to the National Gallery, down the ridiculously steep escalators, lined with adverts that weren't vertical, accentuating the feeling of vertigo. After struggling a little to find our way, we eventually got to the hideous communist sixties block which hid a fantastic interior not only architecturally, but five storeys crammed full of art, ranging from Czech to French to general European, all from the 19th and 20th centuries. Apart from a short break in the café for rather nasty coffee and a delicious plate of mezze (they were out of everything but mezze and cakes) we spent four hours looking at the art! Afterwards we took the Metro back into town and returned to the hotel to recover. I then spent a couple of hours trawling Tripadvisor for a decent restaurant nearby. I found a couple, asked reception to help me booking a table, but one was fully-booked and the number for the other didn't work. We were early, though, so decided to wing it and turned up at the second restaurant in time to get the last table. We ate Tripadvisor-recommended wild mushroom soup followed by more pork medallions and crispy duck legs (and a light sorbet to round things off). We headed back for an early night - no more smoky wine bars or beer halls for us.

 

 

The following morning I set my alarm for an early start and headed out, alone, at 6.20am towards Charles Bridge. It was already a good 40 minutes after sunrise, but there was no way I could have got up any earlier. It was very chilly, but fortunately my husband had brought a hat with him and I had enough layers to keep the cold at bay. I headed straight to the bridge, which was already buzzing with a handful of visitors, and not just photographers armed with tripods like me. I guess some tourists just like to get up early to see places without the crowds. The light was nice, but not spectacular, with few clouds in the sky to give any additional contrast. The sun was rising fast behind the east side of the bridge and the dome that sits behind it; the shadows and silhouettes were picturesque.

After a couple of hours my fingers were frozen and I was due back at the hotel for breakfast. After the usual buffet my father-in-law checked out and we went for a final wander together, heading towards Wenceslas Square - the one touristy place that we hadn't yet visited. It was rather disappointing, and the surrounding roads reminded me of Oxford Street in London - packed with tourists and full of chain shops. The square itself is actually a long rectangular cobbled traffic-free space, heading uphill towards another imposing dome-topped building at the south end. We passed a few Segway tours (they were everywhere in Prague!) before meandering down the narrow streets back to the Old Town Square again. A scantily-clad woman mimed to a song as she pranced through the square following a camera crew. Tourists snapped away on iPhones and iPads at the astronomical clock.

We still had a couple of hours to kill so we crossed the bridge to the north of the Charles Bridge and wandered through a small park and some backstreets before reaching the crowded bridge. We crossed underneath, then walked through the island of Kampa, passing the John Lennon Wall, crossing the canal from time to time. Each canal bridge was adorned with padlocks, which seems to be a common sight across the world now (I've seen them in China, Paris and New York anyway, and I assume there are some in London somewhere; I hope none of these people have been robbed since they've given up their padlocks to this silly tradition). We walked along the lock through which the large tourist boats come to avoid the weirs that span the river, before crossing a last bridge back to the hotel.

We found a little café near the hotel for a little snack before the others headed off in their taxi to Passau, where we had a Belgian waffle and a beer. They then left me at 2pm and I headed up to my room for a rest, after my early start, the skies outside a little overcast. The maid was just beginning to make up the room, so instead of waiting around or asking her to come back later, I set out again, intending to take a few shots before returning for my rest. I actually got back to the room at 10.30pm after a long session of experimental moving people shots on the Charles Bridge, a steep walk back up to Petrin Hill, up and down to various viewpoints near the castle for a slightly dull sunset, some chilly long exposures overlooking the castle at dusk, my last pork medallions in the same restaurant as the first day (not as good, of course) before a last visit to Charles Bridge - where a sound and light show was taking place, followed by a small firework display - before finally returning to my clean hotel room. I'd racked up about 40mb of photos during the day and was absolutely exhausted.

I had no intention of waking up early for sunrise the following morning and it was just as well as I'd exhausted all of my batteries the previous night and forgotten that I'd donated the lead for the charger to my husband as they were short. I had a little juice left in one of the batteries which I thought I'd save for photos taken from the plane, hoping to fly over London (which annoyingly we didn't!). My young taxi-driver played Portishead on the way to the airport and we chatted about life and music; he was pretty much the only Czech inhabitant I'd really spoken to the whole trip. He was about to give up the taxi-driving and become a financial adviser (he'd tried it out on a friend the previous evening, he told me, but they smoked too many joints and laughed their way through it).

It was certainly a very different city (and country) from the Prague (and Czechoslovakia) that I'd visited 33 years earlier. Although I found it very photogenic, with the endless domes, spires and tiled roofs painting the city red, I hadn't fall in love with it. Perhaps I'd need to explore it a bit further to get more a feel for the place, to get away from the tour groups and people taking selfies, but driving through the suburbs towards the airport it resembled the Prague I vaguely remembered from my childhood - a little run-down and depressed. There was still some of the old Czechoslovakia of 1981 lurking.

More photos of Prague can be found on my website.