Travels with iPhone

I spent spring break last week with two law school friends in Istanbul. While it was our last spring break ever (unless someone decides to go to business school), it was filled with many firsts since it was my first vacation with a smartphone. It was the first time I could broadcast my adventures in real time through social media, the first time I could friend new people I met instantaneously, the first time I took prolific pictures. It was also the first time I felt anxious about being so connected.

The wifi in Istanbul was fast and plentiful. As a result, we found ourselves asking for wifi passwords at cafes and restaurants even before we sat down. Hooked up to the internet, we checked email. We posted Facebook statuses in real time and we "liked" them immediately. Yes--8,200 miles away from New York City, we were replicating what we did at home. The tableau was often three girls on their iPhones, ignoring the plates of borek, pilav, and kofte in front of them, posting pictures of the Bosphorus view behind them.

We took pictures of food before eating

Why did we feel this compulsion? Partly to provide evidence that we were there; partly to get validation from them that what we were doing was cool; partly to capture a moment so that we could remember it later. But what is it about the smartphone that ignites this sudden desire to document? I literally have no photographs from a trip to Paris two years ago since they lie undeveloped in a disposable Kodak at the bottom of a suitcase. Was that trip somehow less real than my recent trip to Istanbul? It was certainly more personal. None of my friends “liked” it; I didn’t use the internet at a café once. My memories of the trip are mine alone, unmarred by a camera lens.

Because shooting and sharing has become so common in real life-- pics or it didn't happen as everyone knows--the act of taking pictures on vacation is more ordinary too. The once rare ritual of cleaning off the bulky Nikon has transformed into the smooth motion of tucking your phone into a pocket. The ubiquity devalues the vacation pic. Scrolling through my phone, it looks like I have at least two pictures of everything I saw. I chose my shots carelessly, knowing each new image only cost a minuscule slice of memory. I was at once pleased to be able to take so many pictures while also anxious that my compulsion was detracting from fully being there. I couldn't mentally check off a destination until I had achieved an adequate shot.

In Istanbul or NYC?

The irony is not lost on me. The very action designed to prove I had been somewhere ended up distracting me from being there.

Why couldn't I help myself? After all, my Hagia Sophia pictures are surely worse than most professional ones just a Google search away. Why do I feel the need to clutter my friends' Facebook feeds with my own poorly lit pics? Perhaps I am driven by the specter of the negative inference. Now that everyone has a smart phone, the absence of documentation could suggest that something didn't happen. Pics or it didn't happen takes on a literal meaning when pics are so easily available.

My amateur picture of the Blue Mosque

The proliferation of Facebook pics documenting where everyone is at all times has made the world smaller. Though I was ten hours away, in a country where I didn’t speak the language, I was still able to maintain my web regimen. I knew that my friend’s letter to the editor was published in The Times as soon as everyone else knew. While I was grateful to be able to Google places to eat, I was a tinge disappointed to feel like I had never left NYC.

Perhaps I need to strike a better balance between enjoying technological comforts and exploring new places. At the end of the day, my ambivalence did not prevent me from taking pictures or using gchat to talk to my NYC based friend about her wedding plans. Though I’m ambivalent about my experience taking pictures everywhere, I am glad to have them to remind me of the trip. And until I can resist the urge to post them, I will continue to do so.