French Polynesia.

Lai and I were married on July 27, 2019. About a year prior, we sat on the couch discussing our plans and the topic of a honeymoon came up. Both of us were working long hours at work as well as putting in time each night organizing the wedding. The prospect of a honeymoon seemed so far off and we were more focused on getting the wedding right first. That said, we decided that we needed to think about where we would go. The stress of work and wedding planning narrowed the choice significantly: we wanted to go somewhere warm where we could relax on a beach. I jokingly named the most iconic beach island I could think of, Bora Bora. We laughed, paused, looked at each other and immediately started a Google search for “honeymooning in Bora Bora.” A year later and two days after our wedding, we found ourselves waking up in paradise.

We flew from San Francisco to Pape‘ete, on the island of Tahiti. Pape’ete is the largest city on the largest island in French Polynesia, a semi-autonomous “collectivity” of France. We spent our first night on Tahiti before taking the 10-mile ferry to Mo’orea the next day. I’m not exaggerating when I say that Mo’orea is possibly the most beautiful place on the planet. The ferry towards the island was, for lack of a better word, epic. The hilly, jungled, volcanic outcropping rose into view and neither Lai nor I could take our eyes off it.

We spent the first week of our honeymoon on Mo’orea, splitting our time between relaxing on the beach and exploring the interior of the island. The Polynesian people are some of the most hospitable, welcoming, and wonderful people I’ve ever met. Our absolute favorite person was our tour guide, Étienne, who took us on a hike through the “bush”, or jungle in the center of the island. A wonderful man who educated us on the history of the island pre and post-colonization, and the effects that French colonization had on his people. We left our time on Mo’orea with a tremendous respect for the Polynesian people, as well as a clearer, first-hand view into the effects of European colonization.

As we jokingly suggested a year before, our next and final honeymoon destination was Bora Bora. Bora Bora is a collection of small islands about 170 miles away from Tahiti. We returned from Mo’orea to Tahiti by ferry, then took a quick flight to Vaitape, the largest town in the island group.

Bora Bora is famous for its barrier reef and lagoon, and wow, is it warranted. The islands were once a singular volcano that slowly depressed into the ocean, leaving a ring of coral that keeps the interior of the island surrounded by a pristine lagoon. When I say pristine, I mean cyan-colored-water pristine. On one afternoon, Lai and I went on a snorkeling tour. At our first stop I was first off the boat and took an opportunity to look underwater while Lai was getting ready. I almost inhaled water. Words cannot describe what I saw (but here I go trying anyways). The lagoon is so densely packed with marine life that it felt like I was on the set of a live-action Disney film. Millions of fish, sharks, jellyfish, eels, and other animals were swimming all around me. It became immediately obvious that the boat was just a blip in this massive expanse of life, representing all shapes, sizes, and more colors than I can name. If you’ve seen “Inside Out” then you’ll know what I am describing - a core memory. A memory so beautiful that I will be impossible to forget it. I immediately surfaced, accidentally inhaled some water, and cough-yelled at Lai to hurry up and look below. She grumbled for a second, fixing her mask before diving underwater. I could hear her yell of delight from above the surface.

Miscellaneous Photos from 2018.

Continuing through David’s archives, I’ve selected some of my favorite photos from 2018. These didn’t merit their own blog posts, but some that I wanted to share regardless.

2018 was our year of adoptions. In March we finally caved on getting a dog, rescuing Fenton from the San Francisco SPCA only five days after he arrived at the shelter. He immediately changed our family dynamic, and it was our first adult experience in caring for another living thing. I have a distinct memory of panic as we drove away from the SPCA - “I’m responsible for keeping him ALIVE?” Thankfully, four years later he is still very much alive. A few months later Fenton was joined by Wasabi, adopted from the Humane Society of the Silicon Valley. Together these two conspired to terrorize our sleep schedule and disrupt the cleanliness of our home, often pairing their efforts for maximum impact.

Wasabi immediately developed an independent streak, and Fenton a love for travel. Throughout the year we drove all across California, hiking and camping with Fenton while Wasabi watched over our apartment. Fenton generally enjoyed these expeditions, save for the endless posing he had to do as soon as I brought out the camera.

My favorite 2018 Fenton expedition came when I joined my two brothers in law, Peter and Marc, to go fishing in Northern California. I took Fenton as he had never been fishing and I thought he would be intrigued by the whole activity. Intrigued was putting it lightly. For the first hour or so after arriving at the lake, Fenton meandered around the shore lazily, a little bored and wondering why we weren’t walking along a more interesting trail. He watched as we set up our rods and cast the bait into the lake. But after a short delay, Peter received a solid tug on his rod. He jumped to attention, grabbing the rod and immediately fighting the fish. It was a long back and forth, as the fish proved to have an admirable lust for life. Eventually the fish was reeled in enough so that it would flop around the surface of the lake, causing Fenton to go absolutely insane.

At this point it probably makes sense to give a little background on Fenton. We aren’t totally sure of his history, though DNA tests estimate that he has a strong terrier streak in his ancestry. The terrier becomes obvious anytime he sees prey animals - he is obsessed with mice, rats, squirrels, rabbits, and even birds. On one occasion he even successfully slipped my grasp after spotting a rat and ended its life with surprising prowess.

Up until this moment, Fenton’s understanding of prey animals only extended to the land. Upon seeing the fish unwillingly emerging from the lake, his worldview was flipped upside down. He immediately starting wharking (whining/barking) and pulling on his leash for an opportunity to investigate and probably murder this exciting new animal. Thankfully, I was able to restrain him as Peter finally pulled in a respectfully-sized catfish. We took some photos to celebrate the moment before Peter attached a gill hook and placed the catfish back into the lake.

Fenton spent the next hour or so watching the catfish swim around unsuccessfully trying to ditch its gill hook. He was pining for an opportunity to see the fish, but it was tied up far enough away from the shore and the constant splashing obfuscated it from his view. Peter, Marc, and I took a moment to walk to our bags to grab food and drinks leaving Fenton to watch over the catfish. Suddenly Peter yells, causing Marc and I to spin around just in time to see the catfish swim away, gill hook still attached. How did it escape? No, this particular catfish was not the reincarnation of Houdini - it was aided and abetted by none other than Fenton. After becoming frustrated with his inability to see and eat the fish, Fenton decided the next best idea would be to chew through the rope attaching it to shore. I can only assume that he thought once freed, it would of course swim within murdering-range. Unfortunately for us all, the catfish did what any animal with a semblance of self-preservation would do - it swam away.

After digesting what happened, the three of us broke down in laughter, trying to understand the insanity of what had just occurred. Fenton, now twice as frustrated, did not join in our joy.

New York City.

It has been a while. In fact, almost four years since I wrote in this blog. Life and, well everything, got in the way, so I have a lot of catching up to do on here. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing photos from trips that I’ve taken during my absence, even though my photography style and eye have changed quite a bit. I debated as to whether I should share these photos, despite my developing tastes, but I figured what good is it if I take photos that are never seen. So here they are.

In July of 2018, Lai was invited to a work event in New York City. Her company paid for her flights and a hotel for a long weekend, and so I figured I’d buy a red eye and join her. I was last in NYC in August of 2005 as a sophomore in high school, so I was eager to return and to see The City as an adult. It was on that trip that I learned a red eye is the worst possible way to travel.

Theoretically, leaving San Francisco at 10:30pm to arrive in NYC at 6:30am would give me five hours of sleep, accounting for the time difference. Theoretically. I didn’t sleep a wink, either due to excitement for the trip or due to the pressure of needing to sleep in order to function the next day. I arrived in NYC bleary-eyed and desperate for bed. That said, I had been planning to capture the cliche shot of the Manhattan Bridge from DUMBO, Brooklyn, and that opportunity fueled a rather manic David to drag his suitcase and camera through those streets to take the photo.

After photoing some iconic spots in Brooklyn, I immediately headed for our hotel room in Manhattan, somehow convincing the concierge that I was Lai’s fiance and that I should be allowed access to her room. In retrospect, that was probably a mistake on the concierge’s part. I collapsed in my travel clothes (shoes may or may not have been removed) onto the bed and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

I woke up a few hours later, miserable, hungry, and without any sense of the day or time. Forced out of bed by my grumbling stomach, I left the hotel with camera in hand and walked across Manhattan in search of a perfect slice of pizza. I settled for the first restaurant I found and, well, it was decent.

Over the next few days, we explored Manhattan and I was reintroduced to The City as a grownup. It was a fascinating experience; in 2005, the World Trade Center was still rubble and the people had not yet healed. 13 years on and there was a beautiful new icon in One World Trade Center and an extremely haunting museum at the site of the Twin Towers. NYC is a wonderful city, and I am eager to return, though this time I like to explore more than just Manhattan and DUMBO. As amazing at it is, however, I like to view it from afar. It’s a great city to visit, but not one I could ever live in. Though perhaps a few more slices could convince me.

Paris.

Growing up in Scotland, I was lucky enough to be able to travel to France often as a child. After moving to the United States, I hadn't been able to return in almost eighteen years. That changed this past May. Last year I was able to convince Lai to join me in a trip to my homeland for two weeks, with the condition that we would next travel to Paris, France. This year we made good on that promise.

Paris is an incredible city full of amazing people. Walking through the streets you can feel the pulse of the country, of the continent. Tourists from across the globe coalesce in these forty square miles, and yet the Parisians are warm and welcoming. I did my best to tap into my French skills that I picked up in Primary School, and made an effort to communicate with the denizens in their home language. Although they would often quickly switch into English, the gesture was appreciated and I got that much more out of the trip because of it. 

The following are some photos of my favorite places in Paris. I tried my best to capture the culture and the beauty, but as most things in life, you have to see the city for yourself to truly appreciate it.

Seattle.

So it took me almost three years, but I finally made the trip to visit my brother in Seattle. This was my first time in the city and I immediately fell in love. What a vibrant, clean, exciting place - it's hard to not imagine living there. I actually was reminded quite a bit of Scotland, and not just because of the rain. The houses in the residential neighborhoods are northern European inspired and there is a familiar bustle in Seattle that also exists across the pond. I can't wait to go back, though maybe next time I won't go in winter.