Travels wouldn’t be as vibrant without my love for film cameras.
First of all, when you travel with film instead of digital, you have more time to really look around instead of experiencing your trip through the viewfinder of your camera.
Secondly, every shot is thoughtful and unique. No one else will ever have those shots because you made them now and forever.
Thirdly, it’s like a Kinder Surprise—you wait for the scans from Fotovramke with the excitement of a child. The moment of opening the file is indescribable. I think it’s a magical moment.
The rules I’ve “developed” over years of traveling with a film camera are purely personal.
For example, after my first trip, I learned that you can change the color and color rendition by using high temperatures.
Once, we foolishly decided to go to Italy in +38 degrees Celsius, but it felt like 46. We traveled with backpacks, so the film was tossed here and there all over the backpack; several rolls were roasting among my socks and t-shirts, and some were ready in the outer pocket of my backpack.
After each city, I put the rolls at the very bottom of the backpack—I think they “baked” there like pies in an oven. When I returned, I took them to the store and didn’t expect any grand shots since it was my first travel experiment. We also had a digital camera, so I thought every shot was duplicated. But when I saw the photos, I realized it was now only film. The photos turned out amazing. Interesting color gradients and an incredible warm effect forever captured my heart. I used Kodak 200, but the colors looked like the film was either old-school or hand-painted.
Next tip: buy film in Ukraine.
My next trip with the camera was to a festival in Gdansk. For some reason, I thought it would be cool to shoot Open Air on film, but I never took the camera to concerts. So I decided to shoot with it when I had time to explore the city itself. It turned out there was plenty of time to realize that southern Poland is gorgeous. Almost on the first day, I used 3 rolls in Gdansk. I decided to buy more film. That wasn’t a great decision because the film cost twice as much as I expected. Now I always take at least 7 different rolls with me. One cool thing was that I tried Portra for the first time, which cost me like platinum. So every shot was as thoughtful and deliberate as possible. Portra-Sopot-swans by the sea—it’s love at first sight.
Bring a small tripod with you.
The third rule I almost immediately remembered: don’t take the film out of the box.
Even if you have little space, don’t think it will increase if you take each roll out of the box. Customs officers get really annoyed when they see small objects like rolls on scans. I felt like Pablo Escobar several times when they yelled at me to show what was inside the rolls. And I, like a true drama queen, tearfully explained that there were valuable shots—film—that I couldn’t unwind. I swore I didn’t use drugs and even took a drug test because I overdid the drama a bit. It happens to everyone.
Fourth: old films rule.
My trip to Rome was with a Polaroid roll gifted by my friend Masha. Her dad was into photography and had some rolls lying around. When she gave it to me, I knew exactly that I would shoot Rome with it. With trembling hands, I shot the Spanish Steps, the view from there—the scene from “Roman Holiday” where Audrey rides a scooter and admires the city’s beauty. The photos looked like they came from a 70s magazine.
These are my main tips for travelers. Take film with you and don’t regret if you mess up somewhere—maybe you’ll create a masterpiece, or maybe not. Who knows? That’s the magic of it.