I’ve been meaning to write about the rather excellent photobombs I’ve been executing on this visit to Turkey. I’ve aways enjoyed the practice but on this trip they’ve been a lot more fun. I think this is because I’ve expanded somewhat from the standard-issue photobomb people are most familiar with.
Done poorly and you could end up in a fistfight. Done well and can you make the world a more magical place. What I’ve learned over the years is that a successful photobomb is all about technique. Your garden-variety photobomb is pretty safe – it usually involves surreptitiously making your way into a photograph of a large group of people and it usually takes place in a bar or close to a prominent landmark. But on this trip I thought I would take it to the next level and find out if it is possible to photobomb a single individual who is posing for a random photo.
So on Saturday night Ozan and I had just left the bar to go get something to eat when I noticed a man setting up to take a photo of his supposed wife. I immediately seized the moment and jumped down to where she was standing and posed next to her. She laughed. And I laughed. And her supposed husband laughed. And he took the photo. And we all laughed.
And then they told me they were from Sweden! And then I told them my Swedish jokes! And then we all laughed even more! The man was especially enjoying it.
Ja it’s true! We Swedes *do* make a mess when we visit Denmark!
So the next day I was thinking about the whole thing and how it turned out pretty good. But there was something that was bugging me. Like it could have been even better. And I couldn’t pin it down. But this morning I think I figured it out.
I posted the other day about my trip to the barber shop and my objectively fantastic mo. I received a lot of positive feedback from the Interwebs, but the architects I’ve been hanging out with here in Istanbul – they didn’t say much about it. Which struck me as odd, because it is a pretty awesome mo.
Lucky for you, this morning I realized the problem: the beard part of my face was camouflaging the mo part. I also came up with a very simple solution: I just need to go back to the barber and get him to shave off my beard. Then, and only then, will I be able to fully commit myself to some truly epic photobombs.
Lumbersexual will have to wait a few weeks – right now, I’m turkmensexual.
That’s a play on the word “metrosexual” but for describing the Turkish men whom I’m trying to emulate. It’s not intended to describe men from Turkmenistan – although I imagine it could work there too.
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