For my birthday last year, I got myself a Diana Baby from the Lomography Embassy Store in Amsterdam. I’ve always wanted a Diana, and this seemed to be the perfect thing, since it was so small (it is a 110 film camera) that I owned absolutely no duplicates of it. That first photo is the first one I took with it—a multi-x of my face and the apartment we had rented out for the short duration we were there.
I really miss Amsterdam. It was my favorite stop.
This is the area in which we stayed in. We stayed quite a bit of ways away from the city center. I don’t think we even went to the Red Light District, but I didn’t want to go there with my parents, so I guess that’s kind of a blessing.
We had breakfast in this coffee shop on my birthday, and I had a birthday bagel—cream cheese with chives.
Me, my sister, and my brother.
Walking in beautiful Amsterdam. <3
Speaking in terms of ease of use, this camera is awesome. I think it’s not a necessary one or the best pick if you had to pick only the essentials, but if you want a small and compact camera that churns out little squares of prettiness (Instagram, cough), this is your guy.
The cons I see here are that it doesn’t do so well in indoor, low-light environments, and it costs so much money for a roll of 24 shots. Still, I’m one of those nutters who’d dare declare it “worth it.” There’s always been a certain charm to film photographs. I find that there is a bit of a quietness about them, a genuine stillness that is hard to replicate with digital photography.
(Fourteen is missing. I wonder why. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THAT LIGHT LEAK IS OBSCURING.)
Sometimes, it’s inevitable for you to miss some potentially lovely shots, but that’s OK, too.
This is the train station we went on to go from Amsterdam to Brussels, which we walked around in for a few hours, while waiting for the train to London, which I realize I hadn’t even written about yet. For shame~ Just kidding. I think I got overwhelmed with updating. It happens.
Stepping out of the train station. We left our bags at the train lockers, so all I had with me were some film cameras—this one, and a Nikon FM2. This was after the moment we realized that Tintin was Belgian and not French.
See?
Fin.