Every year, my wife and I pack our bags and head to the exact same resort in Phuket, Thailand.
We do not explore.
We do not sightsee.
We simply show up, unpack and enjoy.
Going to the same place repeatedly feels like returning to a beach house we own. The staff knows us, a large Welcome Back note waits on our dining table. We know every restaurant and venue like the palm of our hands. We eliminate the pressure of researching new places.
This predictability is the ultimate luxury. It allows us to truly relax and recharge our batteries.
Slowing down
In my daily life in Macau, my schedule is a race against the clock from the moment I wake up. My routines are structured into strict time slots. I have my kids, my wife, work and cycling.
Everything must tick precisely like a Swiss watch. I cannot fail any of them. But for three or four days in Thailand, the schedule disappears.
There are no time constraints. My wife and I slow down entirely. We find joy in simple, unhurried moments.
Lingering over morning coffee, spending time at the gym, sipping white wine by the pool, the occasional swim, reading our e-books, analyzing the movement of the clouds at the beach to guess if rain is coming.
We love slowing down.
Going analog
This trip was also the perfect testing ground for my latest obsession: shooting film.
About 25 years ago, I migrated fully to digital. I started with a Canon DSLR then embraced the mirrorless revolution and jumped to Micro Four Thirds with Olympus, then switched to Fuji APS-C for the elegance of their cameras.
Later, I collected full-frame bodies like the Leica M-E and Nikon Df. Eventually, I chased ultimate image quality into medium format, getting first a Fujifilm GFX 50R and then a Hasselblad 907x 100c. And finally to my current day-to-day camera, the Fujifilm GFX 100RF.
The GFX 100RF is perfect. In fact, it is so perfect that I realized I had reached the maximum ceiling of digital image quality.
And frankly, I got bored. I grew tired of the cleanliness and clinical perfection of modern digital technology.
In my pursuit of something new, I decided to go backward. My wife recently gifted me a vinyl turntable and a pair of premium speakers for my birthday, which beautifully set the mood for this analog revival.
To match this mindset, I bought a Voigtländer Bessa T film camera, which I recently reviewed. I paired it with a Leica Summicron 35mm and a Zeiss Biogon 21mm f/2.8 to Thailand.
As a camera that requires a deliberate, three-step process for every individual exposure, it was the perfect tool to slow me down.
Stepping out
Though our routine in Thailand usually consists of the gym, the resort pool, healthy food and cold white wine to beat the heat, this year we decided to step out for one day.
We booked a one-day cruise on a beautiful ship that toured the small islands near Phuket, including the famous James Bond Island (named after The Man with the Golden Gun). I had actually been there twice before — the first time way back in 1986, I’m this old — but my wife had never seen it.
The islands were an excuse to spend a day out at sea. To ensure our peace, I opted to pay a premium to upgrade to the upper deck.
It was worth every penny.
While the lower deck was crowded with young groups partying to loud music, the upper deck was practically empty, more suitable to farts like me. It was just us and one other family with a baby.
The upgrade completely transformed the experience from a noisy, high-energy party into a slow-paced, peaceful journey in harmony with the sea.
We claimed our private corner at the tail of the ship, which featured a large, bed-like cushion.
We spent the day sunbathing, watching the ocean glide by and slowly sipping a few bottles of chilled white wine.
My wife, wearing her bikini, became my muse and model for the day.
I captured dozens of frames of her on film, fully immersed in the slow, beautiful texture of analog time.
For this day trip out at sea, I shot with the Zeiss Biogon 21mm lens. It proved to be the perfect choice, given the wide vistas from the sea.
Between canoeing into hidden sea caves and leaping straight off the ship into the open ocean, the day was a spectacular mix of adventure and quiet luxury.
But the real magic happened when I received the scans from the lab.
I had loaded the camera with Fujifilm Superia 200. The resulting images carry a unique atmosphere that digital simply cannot replicate. The contrast is beautifully struck and the colors possess a gorgeous, subdued restraint.
From what I know, Fuji’s CLASSIC NEGATIVE film simulation is meant to replicate the look of Superia. I can’t say if the digital film simulation is close or not, but when you shoot real film negatives, the experience hits differently.
You know it is the genuine stuff. It’s legit, not a digital trying-to-look-like simulation.
The tones immediately transported me to my childhood.
Looking at the frames of my wife on the ship, I told her she looked like a Japanese model from a vintage 1980s calendar.
It was wonderfully old-school.
And I made this with AI just to prove my point!
(I mean, in 1984 she wasn’t even born!..)
Digital made me a better (film) photographer
Returning to film after more than two decades felt like coming full circle. I migrated from film to digital about 20 ~ 25 years ago and I can honestly say that digital technology made me a better, more mature photographer.
The immediacy of digital — the ability to instantly review your photo, rectify if need be and shoot again — is an incredible teaching tool. Over the years, that rapid feedback loop sharpened my knife.
While I do not consider myself a gifted photographer, I’m sure digital gave me a solid mastery over exposure and framing. It taught me how to better express myself with my camera.
Because of this modern training, my film hit rate now is higher than before.
Back in the old days, after having my rolls developed, many photos were absolute trash.
This time, the experience was entirely different. As the process forced me to be slow and be deliberate with each of the 36 exposures – combined with my matureness as a I ended up with a high number of keepers.
What makes it even better is that I can still remember the exact moment, the setting and the feeling behind every single frame I took.
Anxiety
Returning to film also meant reclaiming some anxiety of the analog process. I experienced two distinct waves of nostalgia-induced feelings that I haven’t felt in decades.
Rewinding the film… When I fired the 36th frame and it was time to rewind the film back into the canister, I remembered the careless mistakes of my past… When you start feeling the wrong kind of resistance in the crank, hearing a strange tearing sound and realizing too late that a whole roll was ruined.
To counter this, I turned off my mental autopilot. I followed a methodical, step-by-step approach to winding the film, to make sure I got everything right!
Then the second bout of anxiety is the wait for the lab.
That nervous excitement. I loved every bit of it.
Final thoughts
I fully enjoyed this return to film experience. And now I want more.
The funny things is that, with digital, I can always shoot randomly at home just to hear the click of the shutter and satisfy my photo addiction. Whereas with film, once the camera is loaded, there is no clicking or else I’d be wasting film.
So yeah, my hands are itching now. I want more of this film experience using this beautiful, barebones Voigtländer Bessa T.
And I’m looking forward to sharing the results here again.
Stay tuned!