DIY Digicam Fisheye

My fisheye Lomo is great, but I haven't found a processing lab near my hotel. I got to thinking about ways to convert my Canon ixus 980 since I don't really use it -- it takes such boring shots out of the box... So I added a fisheye lens.

















Here's how:

1. Obtain one of these

I got mine from an old guy in Bo Ai Lu, Taipei, for 700 TWD (a big Mac combo is about 100). He only had one, otherwise I would have bought a spare... as you'll see there's a strong possibility I'll need it! It's intended for video cameras, so it's about the right size for a P&S digicam.

2. Get some rubber bands

3. Stretch them out and pull them into the filter ring, which slides down leaving a gap

4. Turn the camera on and wait for the lens to extend

5. Pull the rubber bands over the camera, and start shooting!

6. Optionally, hold onto the lens so it doesn't fall off...

Cute stuff in Taipei

Taipei has lots of cute stuff that Auckland lacks.

There are little dogs on scooters...















There's Mos Burger, where combo meals come with jelly (in a cup, with a straw) instead of coke, salad that tastes like moss, and paper place mats with interpretive depictions of NZ.

Mmmm, natural beef. I can't stand that imitation factory rubbish.















There's Apple Sidra, which is good (and nothing like cider in case you were wondering - I was), partly because it is Without Chemical Ingredients.
























There are people with facemasks everywhere (Taipei air, H1N1). The security guard at the company I visited today asked me if I was American, then handed me one.

Taiwan also joins the fray of countries where Google forces visitors to play an annoying little game called Where the Fuck is the English Display Setting.

Google products default to the local language, and redirect to com.tw (.cn, .th...), displaying in traditional Chinese, of which I know about 6 characters (the useful ones, like mountain, rabbit, and death). The fun part is finding the language setting on the page ('Language' is always in the local language...).

Campfire in IR

Campfire at coffee farm, Doi Suthep, Chiang Mai.

Snow in Auckland

I've been dabbling in IR (infra-red) photography lately.

Here are some of my initial results, shot in Victoria Park during a lunchbreak last week.

















T: 5s
A: f4.0
ISO: 3200

This was supposed to be a quick test shot (hence low f-stop and high ISO) but turned out to be one of the better shots, largely due to superior composition -- something hard to get right without image preview.
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T: 4s
A: f3.5
ISO: 500

Backlit plane trees.

Foliage appears white (infra-red actually -- I've converted to B/W in post-process) because it reflects IR.
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T: 4s
A: f8.0
ISO: 3200

More plane trees.

Geography Fail

While standing in line at Bangkok airport waiting to get my passport stamped I glanced up at this international wall clock.


















I chuckled a little, then reflected how Americans are not the only ones who find it challenging to locate world cities on a map.

Timelapse

I've been tinkering with CHDK on my old Canon Powershot S3 lately, and I'm wondering why it took me so long to get around to playing with it. My S3 was promptly relegated to storage after I acquired a 40D DSLR a year ago where it has remained since, guarding it's untapped potential.

Here is a timelapse video I made out my bedroom window using a readymade script:

Auckland Drivers = Fail. Or, Spare Socks, Your Time Has Come!

I arrived in Auckland at midnight on Friday December 12 last year. By Sunday evening the universe had conspired to put me in hospital with a broken ankle. I was destined to wear left shoes for the next six weeks.



















I had been navigating a roundabout on my conspicuous red motorbike when a car pulled out in front, promptly forwarding me to the tarmac. The bike landed on me, all 151 kilograms crushing down on my right ankle.

It hurt. A lot. It was the most agonising thing I had ever experienced, short of watching Ms Teen South Carolina attempt to string a sentence together.

It happened like this:








I didn't want to imagine what state my ankle would be in. It felt like it was detached, or dangling by a few threads. I was rather glad to find later the situation wasn't nearly as macabre.

The offender was a 17-year old girl, whose honours included 'Prohibited from Driving' (now twice) and 'Idiot'. She proceeded to drive off after her unwelcome greeting; presumably the thought of extra traffic fines was too much to bear.

Anyway, I got lucky. The driver behind me saw it all and slowed down before running over me, while memorising the offender's license plate. I'm extremely greatful for this turn of events - I didn't get run over, and There. Will. Be. Justice. Hurrah!

Some things I've learned from the ordeal:

• Drivers are not to be trusted. Everyone (and everything) on the road is trying to kill you. This applies generally, but motorcyclists should take particular care. I knew this before the accident, but only in theory. 'Real world learning' elucidates theory like nothing else can.
  
• Crutches generate more suffering than the injury proper. Palms are bruised purple, shoulders pop and grind, and the remaining foot withers under twice it's rated load.
  
• Despite bruised palms, the urge to hop must be resisted. The hopped-on foot won't last the first day of hopping.
  
• Moping at home on Friday night isn't fun.
  
• Shoe pairs become assymetrically worn, as one sits unused.
  
• Spare socks can finally enjoy a purpose in life.
  
• Indeed, pairs of socks go twice as far. This is the sole advantage of having one foot out of service.

Perhaps the most remarkable thing I've learnt is that some people actually want motorcyclists to get hurt. Popular sentiment would suggest that if you're on a motorbike you somehow want or deserve to be hurt, that you're literally asking for it by riding a motorbike. That you need to be taught a lesson, etc. It's rather unsettling, and somewhat perverse. In other countries I've visited, ones westerners consider to be comparatively less civilised, larger vehicles give way to and look out for smaller vehicles. No sane person would disagree with this line of reasoning.

I encountered this attitude in a lot of people, from close family to strangers. Conversations usually began with them asking in a concerned, friendly voice what happened. We'd then progress to how it happened, at which point the tone would abruptly flip to one devoid of sympathy. Ouch! I think I'll just start taking the bus.

Luck

Luck, it's an odd commodity.

Or perhaps the currencies used to sell it are. Take these caged birds I encountered in the Chiang Mai night market area one Saturday morning.

A woman (attached to the white sneaks) encouraged me to give her some money. In return I would be allowed to let a bird free, earning me luck*.

I wondered, out of the three parties, who would gain the most luck were I to pay the money and free a bird?

I figured the luck would be distributed thus:

1. 100% to the bird, who escapes captivity, naturally comes out on top.
2. 10% to the woman. She can buy some new sneaks, and has a good laugh at the morons who pay for them.
3. -10% to me. I'm poorer, the bird will probably shit on me, and there's one more sucker in the world who's easily parted with money at the first opportunity to buy what must be earned.

QED.

Luck is created through hard work, understanding of the world's workings, enthusiasm and imagination. Anyone who thinks you can buy it is a fool!

*Probably karma points actually, but 'luck' may appeal to a wider audience.

Jiaxing

Jiaxing always amazes:




^Taxi! China's funky answer to the tuktuk challenge.



^Out on the town with the JX crew... Ms Dong, the Doc, Maaaichael, and Yours.

^I'll take two.

^Comrades.




^2% beer is better than 1%.

^We want to be eaten!

Shanghai

When I think about it, I really like midday flights.

Early morning flights are terrible; I tend to get very little sleep the night before making it nigh on impossible to raise myself from slumber in time for the flight.

Evening flights are the worst, particularly long-haul ones. It's hard to sleep (perverse as it is, this is my experience), and there's always more work to do after hitting the tarmac. There's finding a taxi, driving a couple of hours to the next city, and helping the driver find the hotel in unfamiliar territory (this can take some time, the best plan is to change to a local taxi).

Midday flights on the other hand let you sleep in a little and enjoy the morning. I had a midday flight to Shanghai yesterday, which I was rather happy about. It's easy to get blase on a slow morning though, and getting sucked into Wikipedia can be dangerous. With 100 unread tabs open I realised I had about 10 minutes to pack, get breakfast, check out, and get to the airport by the recommended time. The airport wasn't far and traffic was light, so I arrived with plenty of time as it turned out.

I had a lighter in my carry-on bag (I don't smoke, but it was a cool lighter), and even though the bag was full of batteries, adapters, two phones, ipod, chargers, camera bits, etc - the x-ray image was a complete mess - the security suits found it. I guess the machine can identify and highlight certain density and/or chemical signatures - probably in the butane gas, I don't know. I had forgotten it was there, and they didn't tell me what they were looking for at first. I thought they would be satisfied after removing my camera lens, which is frequently mistaken for a bottle, but no. They told me what they were looking for and started digging around, it didn't take long to find. I got a rather unimpressed, yet unimpressive "you aren't allowed to take that onboard", and it was promptly confiscated. No questions, no warnings, nothing. I returned a dumb look, said ok, and was on my way.

With half an hour to spare I found a cafe and sat down with the Doc, my colleague and travel companion. 58 RMB for a coffee... A few months back the NZD was pushing 6 RMB. $10 for a coffee would have been steep, but agreeable considering this was the last stop after customs and immigration (anything for sale in an airport departure lounge is by default extortionately overpriced). Unfortunately the NZD has taken a battering of late, and it's currently down to about 3.6 RMB. That's $16 for a coffee. No.

We stumble upon a Star Alliance lounge, something neither of us were expecting a small town (with its mere 6 million pax) airport like this to have. Gold card in hand we slipped into a land of free coffee, biscuits, and blaring, tasteless elevator music.

The departure lounge resembled a local market more than anything, with a large fruit and vege stall and shops selling all manner of toys. Oh, and people everywhere. We board. I watch The Graduate on my laptop. The friendly Chinese man next to me watches some of it too, taking particular interest in the scene where Ben takes Elaine to a strip club. The lunch and service is surprisingly good. I doze off...

...Rough landing. Everyone gets up as soon as the plane pulls into the gate, still moving, seat belt sign positively still on. I go for my luggage in the overhead locker. People swarm past, pushing and shoving. I stand back and block the aisle, to little effect. So much for being 6" and wearing a leather jacket! Apparently, as long as I can't see who's pushing, they'll be ok. Even with nowhere to go, with plane doors still closed, immigration counters for Africa, plenty of luggage trolleys, etc, people are still running, pushing, and shoving. The mentality is odd, yet understandable when put in context. China is a harsh place, fear is pervasive and survival is key. I figure the thought process goes something like this: While I don't have any particular hurry, nor is there any immediate need to get ahead of everyone around me, I must try to gain an edge. If don't I will be disadvantaged in some way when unforeseen circumstances arise in the near future.

Taxi to Jiaxing. I doze, snap pictures of the setting sun through the thick smog. Check in. Dinner. Sleep.