At a Tourist's Mercy

Henna
Jul 28
2 min read

Updated: Jul 29

There’s for sure a kind of vulnerability that comes with handing your phone to a stranger and asking, “Can you take a photo of me please?”

You know that it’s not just about taking pictures but it’s also the trust, the timing, and the silent hope that they’ll capture the moment the way you see it in your head.

You start first by scanning the crowd. You eye someone. Your eyes met - yours are pleading, hers are curious. The ‘stranger photographer’ says yes and relief floods through you. Now the responsibility is no longer yours. The ‘photographer’ holds your camera, looks into the viewer then at you, you strike a pose, and maybe a little creative flair - all these you hope. But often, you’re left with whoever’s nearby: a girl in her earbuds, the guy rushing a sign of 'do not disturb me', or the woman who looks like she’s never touched a mobile phone in her life.

In Riga, Latvia, I found myself in that exact situation. I was standing in Old Town (Vecrīga), a UNESCO World Heritage Site with cobblestone streets, medieval churches, and charming squares. It was a crowd but seemed like there was no one I can ask around but a kind local woman who nodded uncertainly and admitted she had never held an iPhone before. I smiled, handed her my phone, and gave the gentlest instructions: “Just press this and keep it steady.” She nodded, unsure, and I stepped into the frame.

Click!

Done. Framed with light, right angle, and focus, it was a perfect composition. I still don’t know how she did it, but she did.

Moments like these are precious. We don’t exchange names, just short glances - and act of kindness.

Other times, it’s less cinematic, worse when it’s blurry. There are enthusiastic volunteers who tilt, and direct you like a Vogue shoot. Others say no with a polite shrug or a look that says, “Why would I?”

But here’s the thing again with travel photos taken by strangers. They are the ones we’ll never see again. People who paused for a minute or so to help me capture mine.

So the next time you’re at a waterfall, a mountaintop, or in a temple, and You Are At A Tourist's Mercy - ask anyway.