While most Dutch people will often shy away from the invasive sight of a camera lens pointing toward them (it would be an infringement of our privacy after all), the exact same thing can ignite a very opposite response among Americans.

On my first day back in San Francisco, I chose to meander along its hilly roads to restrengthen the few muscles I was left with after doing very little intensive hiking in the Netherlands. This would also be my very first time properly shooting film in a city setting – and in general, it was really pretty much my first time experimenting with street photography overall. Over time, I had grown much more comfortable taking shots of my loyal (and particularly patient!) golden retriever as she skipped her way through muddles and puddles alike, sat still atop tree trunks or diligently listened while I asked her to “sit and stay” at the most random of moments, or even more preferably I liked taking photos of non-moving models like flowers and plants. I had not quite dared to venture in the realm of human photography before, besides taking pictures of friends or family members of course. There is a certain awkwardness that needs breaking, and I personally believe there has to be some consent that I not yet had the guts to ask for.

Making my way along North Point from Fisherman’s Wharf to the Palace of Fine Arts, my newly-acquired yet trusty film camera dangled on my chest with each strutting step. I had a total of 36 shots to fill (realistically more like 30, knowing there would be bound to be more than one failed attempt), and I was keen to eventually capture more of a personal face to San Francisco besides just shots of its unique mix of architecture, old cars and oversized American flags. As I walked down a road of expensive mansions with over-the-top Halloween decorations (one sign read: “No trespassing: we’re tired of burying the bodies” with some blood plattered over and around the lettering), a man dressed in a blue overall one block away seemed to be staring right at me in complete stillness. From afar, a small part of my brain even entertained the thought that one of these houses had decided to decorate their front yards with a life size old-timey scarecrow. Once I came closer, I realised that was not the case (bummer, because if it had been, I for sure would have taken a photo!) and instead it was a middle aged man gently smiling right at me, the corners of his lips tucked upwards and pinching into his cheeks. I smiled back and nodded my head at him in acknowledgment and respect, still getting into the level of street niceties common in the U.S. (a few minutes prior to writing this, a man told me “God bless you” as we passed each other on a street corner down in Mission – people are truly kind here).

“Ah, I was posing for you!” he jokingly called out as I had almost made my way past him – head instinctively lowered to reduce any form of further awkwardness. We briefly continued to quip back and forth, talking about how I would have felt too self-conscious to click away at him as much as I wanted to, while he instead instilled that I can (and should! He had recently seen the movie Civil War and felt in awe at the courageousness of the journalist on the front lines of the war) on the account of it being San Francisco where you can “do as you want”. By telling me this, in a tone so jovial that I couldn’t help but feel instantly relieved and comforted by his words, he helped me break down some of the highest bricks that constructed the barrier I had to climb in order to feel comfortable documenting street life. Just as I was about to ask whether I could perhaps take his photo – I could already imagine the way his kind face would reflect on film and was itching at the prospect – the garage door opened up behind him and it was time for him to get back to work. Uncertain whether to linger around and if anything, at least ask, I didn’t quite take long enough to linger on that thought and instead thanked him for his time, advice and confidence and continued on.

For most of the day, I regretted not taking his photo. I replayed the conversation in my mind more than once and thought of all the conversational gaps during which I could have mustered up enough confidence. But ultimately, I had to accept that some things simply aren’t meant to be. Besides, a few days later, once I’d grown more accustomed to interacting with people on busy streets, someone else jokingly told me he was instinctively posing at the sight of my camera. I responded that I would love to take his photo, and I did. It isn’t the best thing I’ve shot, it isn’t even particularly good, as his face is out of focus and the light seems to fall flat. But what I saw looking at him through the little viewfinder on my camera was pure joy and playfulness. And confidence – the American amount, of course. I’m glad I got to capture that.