At mid-morning, the humidity was so intense it felt moody, filling the air with heaviness, leaving clothes sweat-soaked. Wavering between heading indoors for some air-conditioning or continuing on with the planned walk, I pushed the camera strap high on my shoulder and waited for the light to change. Over the morning traffic, a din came from across the road — Indie-pop loud and fast pulsed from speakers that hung low in shop door corners, delivery trucks moved along the streets and jack hammers vibrated from a nearby worksite. I crossed the road hurried along by workers, narrowly avoided a group of young women in brightly coloured saris rushing to a bus, and found some shade under the eave of a souvenir shop roof. A young trendily dressed worker stood outside next to a table stacked with Indie CDs singing and swaying to the beat while yelling out to his friends as they passed. Around me the noise increased, the traffic grew and the aromatic smells of incense and spices began to fill the air.

Capturing the bigger picture can give that needed overview of a new place — high level and general. But what does it actually tell us about the individuals who live within that picture?

I was in Little India in Singapore on a Friday morning in February as business was opening for the day. One of the city’s oldest and liveliest districts, Little India is a popular retreat for backpackers and tourists — all wanting something of the Indian way without going to India. Its abundant colour, aroma, history and vibe stimulate even the most regressed senses.

Joining me in the morning hustle were a group of fresh tourists being shuffled around by a quiet guide hidden underneath a sun hat. Holding their cameras close to their fronts, the group quickly navigated the busy street like an obstacle course only stopping at points of historical interest and cultural importance. As I walked past them a red-faced lady said to her partner, “We’ll have to come back and take a closer look at this place.”

Little India, Singapore.

I didn’t envy the group with their eager guide and time constraints, unable to stop and take mental notes, or zoom their camera lenses in for some macro detail. Then it occurred to me that if I focused on through the morning activity I could end up doing the same, overlooking the detail for the bigger picture. The only way to enjoy this place was to leave the hive and head into the quiet side streets, where the morning had just begun for its local residents. Taking off down a random street and slowing down to a dawdle, I started to focus on smaller points of interests that I usually overlook. Door frames, tiles, car parking styles, and a quiet looking temple.

At the back entrance to the small temple an old iron gate stood ajar supporting a businessman while he enjoyed the last of a cigarette before moving in the direction of the crowds. Further down the street was an unassuming shop which probably had opened for business hours earlier. Just inside the shop’s front entrance, rows of floral garlands in hues of red and orange hung on hooks and newly sprayed lotus buds sat in buckets underneath. Big cans of cooking oil stood opposite with rows of false hair extensions arranged on the nearby stand.

This odd mix of items on sale told me stories about the customers who shop there. Devotees that drop by for an offering en route to the temple, women in need of extra beautifying for a special occasion and restaurants or homes that forgot to put oil on the grocery list and had run out. Life down this side street was about continuity from one day to the next — picking up from where it left off yesterday while working its way toward tomorrow.

Capturing the bigger picture can give that needed overview of a new place — high level and general. But what does it actually tell us about the individuals who live within that picture? Details help with the who, what, where and why of a culture, its people, even political thinking of the day. It’s easy to overlook these when time is limited or a place turns out to be uninteresting. Although the opposite is also true, busy colourful places can be distracting enough to miss the detail, and dull places can liven up just by zooming in a little closer.

Sign in Seoul

My first months living in Seoul were painted with images of a city that was overcrowded, polluted and monochrome, and pretty much featureless. To deal with this new unfamiliar culture I went straight into a general impression. To survive it became clear that I had to downscale the negative impression and find insight. On weekends I walked around the inner city — not far from Seoul Train Station — it was old, run down and noisy compared with the city’s southern affluent areas. Through the narrow streets, beyond rusted tracks and faded Brutalist style apartment blocks I found what I was looking for.

School girls walked home after Saturday morning classes, linked arm-in-arm, uniform in clothing, hairstyle and bags. English phrases painted on doors and gates told of dreams for a different life. Park signs subtly made order in a crowded city of millions that at times, felt disorderly.

Transitioning from wide angle to macro is easier to do with a camera than without, but try it the next time you travel. Take the quiet side street, slow down and observe — casually find the details that exist — they will be there.

© Gretchen Wilson-Kalav for TravelBlogs, 2009. | Zooming In: Seeing More by Slowing Down | 15 comments |
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Post tags: cultural experiences, Seoul, Singapore

© Gretchen Wilson-Kalav for TravelBlogs, 2009. | My life in Shanghai | One comment |
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Post tags: Asia, China, Seoul, Shanghai, South Korea