China: The Final Frame – Reflections on a Journey


The tour is over. The bags are unpacked, and things are settling back into their usual rhythm at home. But even though I’m back, part of me is still in China—still thinking about the streets of Shao Xing, the energy of Shenzhen, or the moments shared with the orchestra. The journey may have ended, but it hasn’t really left me.

Reflecting on the Journey

From the moment I landed in Changsha to the final farewell in Shanghai, this trip was a series of moments—some I expected, and some I didn’t. The hustle and bustle in Shenzhen, the streets of Shao Xing, the quiet hills of Xian Ju, and the meals shared with colleagues between concerts. It wasn’t just about the places. It was about the little things—a gesture of hospitality, that mutual respect between musicians, or just watching the world go by.

This trip wasn’t just about playing concerts, it was about learning and adjusting. It was about connecting with people, understanding their way of life, and how we relate to one another in those brief encounters.

The Photographer Without Film

For the first time in a long while, I didn’t travel with my usual film cameras. The Fujifilm X100F was the only camera I had with me, and while I had mixed feelings about it at first, it became a good fit. There was no hesitating over which shot was worth the price of a roll of film. It was just me, the camera, and the present moment.

Not every moment needed to be captured. I found myself slowing down and soaking things in—sometimes shooting quickly, sometimes just letting the moment pass. It wasn’t about having everything on film; it was about experiencing it fully, even without the lens in front of me.

Respect and Connection

One of the most memorable things about this trip wasn’t the landscapes or the buildings—it was the people. Everywhere I went, I felt a deep respect and sense of community. It wasn’t about being given titles like “Uncle” or anything else. It was just how people engaged, how they saw me as part of something.

The concerts themselves were a reminder of this—the public wasn’t there for rehearsals, but they were there for the concerts, offering energy and appreciation. Music, like photography, is about presence. It’s about sharing a moment with others, and that’s something I’ll never forget.

Coming Home

Returning home after a trip like this always feels a little strange. The familiar feels slightly unfamiliar at first—the quieter streets, the slower pace. But there’s comfort in returning, and yet, it’s hard not to feel that shift in perspective. Things seem different now.

The Final Frame

So, what remains from all of this? The photographs, of course. They’ll hold the moments, the details, the things I might forget over time. But beyond that, it’s not just about the photos. It’s the way travel shifts your perspective and makes you notice the small moments—the ones that don’t always get captured in a frame.

This series was meant to document a tour, but it ended up being more than that. It’s a reflection on the journey itself, on photography, on what it means to truly be somewhere, to connect with others. The tour might be over, but this story isn’t done yet. And whenever the next journey comes, I’ll be ready to pack my bags again.

I have been posting these articles in the WhatsApp group made for the people on the tour, and people’s feedback has been amazing. What came out the most was the feeling of revisiting the tour through the photographs and how that made people feel. And if you make somebody feel something with an image, then you’re off to a good start. The other comment was, “Oh, I didn’t see that!” And that is part of our role as photographers, to record what people don’t see… My reputation as a photographer seems to have surpassed my reputation as a beer drinker, which is good, because I hardly drink a drop anymore. My reputation as a writer seems to be well established too.

So not only am I seen as a hornplayer but also as a photographer, a writer, and a sensitive soul instead of the gruff bear that sits at the back of the orchestra and makes farting sounds with his instrument. Quite the step up really!

China – Shenzhen day 4 – Shenzhen to Huizhou to Shenzhen.


Today, we were giving a concert in Huizhou (clue in the title, as always) and needed to be ready for the buses at 10 a.m.—a thoroughly civilised hour for a gentleman like myself. The journey would take us about 90 kilometres, another day of life on tour spent bussing around. Victor, the oboe player, kindly put my suit in his suiter, leaving me to carry only my instrument and camera. What a pleasant young man. As people drifted down from their respective floors, we gathered in the hotel lobby, a mix of sleepy faces and quiet anticipation. 

Off we went. Was I with the young, trendy crowd today? Not at all. Always leave them wanting more. Instead, I decided to spend the day with my “girlies” from my Cholet days—Eléonore, Titaua, and Mathilde—along with Catherine, another first violin. It was a calmer group, slightly olde9r than the twenty-somethings at the back, which suited me just fine.

Once underway, we learned our first stop would be a lake before heading to the evening’s venue. A leisurely stroll around a lake? I wasn’t thrilled at the idea. Am I coming across as a misanthrope? Moi? Really? But when we arrived, I was pleasantly surprised. The lake, surrounded by hazy sunshine, was breathtaking—quintessentially Chinese with pagodas, temples, and bamboo groves. The entrance gate itself was a work of art: a grey, ornate roof atop white columns, with traditional calligraphy adorning the sign above. It was beautiful, and I felt unexpectedly happy to be there. 

The walk would be leisurely, which was ideal for me. The trees and bamboo offered some welcome shade and acted as a diffuser for my photographs, and I knew this was definitely going to be a good day. I saw our friends’ Chinese boyfriend and Chinese girlfriend going through the same rigmarole as they had in Shenzhen’s Window on the World, which I still find amusing! 

There were groups of Aunties and Uncles, as the Chinese call older people, sitting on benches looking out across the lake at various pagodas and temples. It was one of those places that breathes calm. I like calm. 

I sat down to join the girls for lunch, but I had already eaten, yet they insisted I partake of their picnic, which I did with pleasure. They really are good to Uncle Ian. They joked about hiring a pedalo and going around the lake. Mathilde’s foot was hurting her, so we decided to take the shorter walk back to our rendezvous point, letting Eléonore and Catherine explore the long way round. We even joked about hiring one of the electric golf cart-type buggies to get around. You may have noticed that I haven’t talked about selfies yet.

 Well, at the table behind was an Uncle and Auntie who wanted to take a selfie with us—first it was the two uncles together, then everyone! I was getting a taste for all this. The attention is definitely validating and made us feel amazing. Yes, made me feel very special, especially when you see their smiles. It’s not like being adulated by adoring fans, but more like appreciating and celebrating your presence in China. It is something that will stay with me for the rest of my life. 

We crossed the lake using the walkway and going through the decorated walkway with its traditional Chinese style. Everything felt Chinese, but in a more classical way. The architecture, the building styles, the plants—even with the bamboo being a feature—as well as the white hump-backed bridges. I was having a special moment with Mathilde and Titaua as we gently made our way back to the bus, and even though it wasn’t the scenic route, you could be mistaken for believing it was. The views were amazing… 

Taking in the light coming through the trees, and sparkling on the water. It was beautiful, and I was so happy to be there amongst longtime friends. Titaua moved on ahead, and I stayed to accompany Mathilde and her bad foot. 

She had put on a brave face the day before, chasing around Shenzhen with the girls. It had gotten so bad that Titaua had to accompany her back to the hotel in a taxi. She didn’t want to put anyone out, and I found myself seeing her in a new light. Maybe that’s what this tour was really about—seeing people in a new light and discovering facets of them you’d never noticed before. When you’re on tour, the masks we all wear tend to slip, and the inner person shines through. It’s human nature to put on a front—I’m certainly guilty of it, especially with my own ongoing struggles with mental health. But during the tour, I felt I could let that mask drop. It was liberating in a way I didn’t quite expect. 

Back at the rendezvous, I was captivated by a coconut and sugarcane juice stall—a moped with a shop grafted onto its back. I didn’t partake but saw how the backlit scene looked very poetic and couldn’t resist taking a picture. I’m glad I did. 

The younger crowd soon returned, with Corentin (aka Sir Fanny Magnet) and Paul (“Duck Tongue” Trouillet) basking in their fan club’s adoration. 

Another selfie session ensued with the younger crowd having selfies with the young Chinese crowd. Corentin, aka Sir Fanny Magnet, and Paul “the Duck Tongue” Trouillet had obviously told their fan club of their imminent arrival. But unexpectedly, that same younger Chinese crowd came up to me asking very shyly if they could have photos with me. I don’t know if it was the Uncle Ian legendary charm or the Father Christmas effect; it certainly left me feeling even more wonderful!

Yes, I think you might have guessed by now, but it was back onto the buses, and off to the venue. I had certainly been inspired for this concert by the kindness and bienveillance of the local population. I would have to make this a performance to remember. And indeed, it was!

China – Shenzhen Day 3


A Day Off in Shenzhen – Rest, Reflection, and Culture

https://ijmphotography.net/2025/11/14/致我在中国的读者们:一封感谢信a-letter-of-gratitude-to-my-readers-in-china亲爱/

After a late night chat (you know how it goes on tour – what happens, stays on tour), I decided to treat myself to the luxury of a lie-in. And it was just what I needed. This felt like our mini-break during the tour – a sort of weekend off. It was well deserved. Life on tour can be demanding, and the emotional investment involved can really take its toll. Corentin and I both got up at the same time, and he was off to join the others in the big city. As for me, I was having a day to myself with my little companion – the X100F. Just the two of us.

So, what was the plan for the day? Well, I was hoping to visit a spa for a massage to sort out my legs. I’m not exactly fond of pain, but thought it would do me good. I have arthritis in my right knee, and although the weight loss has relieved much of the pain, my left knee has been compensating, and my left calf was starting to feel like it was on the brink of tearing. Not ideal. I had found a few places on TripAdvisor, one of which had a rather dubious reputation – apparently, not only offering massages but also “happy endings.” Definitely not for me. I did find a more refined option with a solid reputation for wellness. Perfect. All I had to do now was find it.

As I left the hotel, I bumped into Jennifer Courcier, our soloist and guest star. She still has an amazing voice – if you caught last week’s concert post, you would have heard it. If not, well, go have a listen now. I’ll wait…

Starbucks and Cultural Contradictions

Good, wasn’t it? Doesn’t she sing beautifully? Jennifer mentioned she was heading to the beach but first needed a coffee fix. Starbucks was nearby, so off we went for a caffeine hit. Now, whenever I hear the word “Starbucks,” the phrase “basic bitch” comes to mind. I never know what to order, so, with a bit of help, I discovered that “ordinary” coffee is actually a double espresso. My anxiety was starting to rise as I tried to make the choice, but I finally settled on the “Yunnan” blend. The Chinese barista prepared it with such care that I almost felt like royalty. Things were already looking up.

We sat on the terrace and chatted. I’d been mentoring one of my younger horn players to help him out of a funk. He had recently switched mouthpieces to improve his upper range but went back to his old one. Classic horn player existential crisis. If you know, you know. Jennifer had witnessed one of my coaching sessions and seemed quite impressed by the process. Maybe I did know a thing or two about teaching after all.

The coffee was excellent, and so was the company. We chatted some more, staying off the topic of music. Who wants to talk shop when you can get to know the real person? It humanises them, and Jennifer shared the story of how she became a professional singer, her journey to this point. We eventually parted ways, and I popped back into Starbucks to buy a couple of mugs for the children. One less thing to argue about back home.

Solo Adventure – Exploring the City

I managed to find the metro on my own and bought my little green ticket. The attendant asked where I was going and showed me the map. I couldn’t make sense of it, so out came my phone to zoom in on the stop I needed. I suddenly felt very old, yet thoroughly modern.

On the train, I just watched people, even managed to get a photo or two. My destination? Window to the World – a theme park where you can see replicas of monuments from around the world. I wasn’t going to pay for the full experience, as I’ve already seen many of the real monuments during my travels, but it seemed like good material for photography.

I’ve mentioned before the cultural differences between France and China, but this next observation took me by surprise. Let me introduce you to our characters: Chinese girlfriend and Chinese boyfriend. Chinese girlfriend is the picture of elegance, effortlessly fashionable, her makeup and hair flawless. Chinese boyfriend, by definition, is the photographer, capturing every moment to make his girlfriend look like a top model. She strikes a pose, usually demure and poised, while he stands there, holding the handbag, looking less than graceful. After a few snaps, she sends him back to retake the shot, and they repeat the process at every new location.

I could understand the desire to control one’s image, especially in a location that might seem exotic for a Chinese person, just as a pagoda in Europe feels exotic for us. In some ways, I must seem a bit exotic to them, too. Later, I learned that some people had been taking photos of me without approaching. It might have been a respect thing, as I was a bit older than them.

I wandered around, watching society unwind on a Sunday outing. It felt good to be alive. But then, it was time to head to my massage.

The Google Maps Mishap

I knew the spa wasn’t far away, but that’s where I made the mistake of trusting Google Maps in China. Let’s just say it’s not the most reliable way to get around here. It led me in the wrong direction, and before I knew it, I was walking the streets, getting increasingly lost. But in moments like these, you often find unexpected shots because you’re paying attention to everything, frantically trying to orient yourself. I eventually found my way thanks to a kind gentleman at a hotel who pointed me in the right direction. I was back on track.

The Deep Tissue Experience

Arriving at the spa, I was greeted by dimmed lighting, tea, and a comfortable chair to relax in. I chose a deep tissue massage that would last an hour – pure self-care. I was told there was a short wait, so I took the opportunity to edit some of my photos from earlier in the day. I was offered more tea by the receptionist, who made sure I felt well taken care of.

When it was my turn, I was shown to the massage room and instructed to change into the disposable undies and bathrobe. Let’s just say, as a bigger guy, I was given their largest robe, and it was definitely on the small side. The little lady who came in to perform the massage had no hesitation in digging her elbows into my back with surprising force. She asked if the pressure was okay, and honestly, it felt like her elbows were massaging so deep that they had gone right through me. The pressure was definitely intense, and despite whincing a little, I said the pressure was fine, lying through my back teeth. She worked through my back, shoulders, and calves, and though at times it felt a “little” too much, I could feel the benefits immediately. They don’t call it deep tissue for nothing!

Recharging and Reflection

After the massage, I was feeling thoroughly relaxed, though not quite “recharged” yet. It would take a couple of days before I truly felt the benefits, but it was already worth it. I was pampered with more tea, biscuits, and nuts – twice! I couldn’t fault the service.

Next, I popped into a shopping mall near the hotel, hoping to find a silk tie for my outfit. Dark jeans, nice shirt, and sports jacket – I looked quite dashing, if I do say so myself. But the price of the ties wasn’t going to work for me, I’m fine with a little luxury now and again, but everything within reason…

A Humorous End to the Day

I took the tube back to the hotel, but of course, I foolishly tried to use Google Maps again to navigate. That was a mistake. I ended up lost. As my phone battery started running low, I sent a WhatsApp message to Corentin, who suggested I take a taxi and sent me the address in Chinese. I was perfectly safe, but definitely lost. Eventually, I hailed a cab, showed the driver the address, and thanked him for saving me. When I told him how awful Google Maps was in China, he just smiled. The fare wasn’t much, but the relief of getting back to the hotel was priceless.

As the great man himself once said, “All’s well that ends well.”

China – Operation Shenzhen Nights


It had been a relaxing day. I’d emptied my mind by wandering around Shenzhen, taking colour photos for my wife, editing them on the go with Lightroom CC on my phone—all the power of Lightroom, neatly packaged for mobile. The afternoon had been just as easy-going. I could get used to this.

Corentin, Monsieur Lover Lover, and Paul “the Duck Tongue” Trouillet had decided that, since we weren’t performing that night, we’d head out for a bit of fun. Thus, Operation Shenzhen Nights was born. They’d planned everything down to the last detail. The walk to the tube station was about a kilometre, and even with my gammy knee, it was doable.

So, off we went—a whole group of us—to the Shenzhen tube. Along the way, we passed bustling restaurants where people were already seated for dinner. We walked by a pet shop where people were cuddling kittens. At least, I hoped it was just a pet shop and not a restaurant! The kittens were adorable.

The Saturday night energy was in full swing, with people out for meals or simply strolling. We were about to do much the same.

First, the journey into town. Entering the tube station, I was relieved to see all the signs in both Chinese and English—a lifesaver, as my Chinese still needs work. Passing through a baggage and body scanner was certainly out of the ordinary, but I quickly got over it. People often talk about personal freedoms in China, but it didn’t faze me in the least.

We bought our tickets—or more accurately, small green plastic disks that you scan to access the platform. Then came the stairs, and that’s when my gammy knee started to let itself be heared. Fortunately, there was a lift, which would have been a shame not to use. When the train arrived, I managed to grab a seat, camera ready to snap photos of the metro ride.

About an hour later, we reached our destination, where Operation Shenzhen Nights would truly begin.

Corentin, always as eager as a five-year-old at the zoo, practically bounced with excitement. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I tried to keep up, though one day I’ll have to explain the “pace of the slowest man” rule to him.

As we exited the tube, we were greeted by a sea of lights, red lanterns swaying overhead in celebration of Chinese New Year, and professional TikTok setups. These weren’t just quick phone clips—this was full-scale production, complete with lighting and sound. I still don’t quite get TikTok, but they sure seem to.

Paul and Corentin were already eager to dive into the street food, and it wouldn’t be the first stop of the evening. Skewers with all kinds of “supposedly” edible things lined the stalls. I was fine with chicken and octopus but drew the line at scorpions and crickets. Maybe next time I’ll embrace my more adventurous side.

The place was packed, with street restaurants everywhere. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a shop selling mineral water and bought a litre. I felt much better after hydrating. I knew it would mean a bathroom hunt later, but I threw caution to the wind. “Bugger it,” I thought. Some risks are worth taking.

The night was buzzing with energy—smells, sounds, and lights everywhere. Red lanterns swayed overhead, casting a warm glow as the city geared up for Chinese New Year. 

Paul and Corentin thrived in the chaos, eagerly planning their next round of snacks while some of the group veered off to McDonald’s for a quick bite. As we waited, we soaked in the atmosphere. When the others rejoined us, I was already with my camera taking shots of a city that seemed to be in perpetual motion. Operation Shenzhen Nights was rich with everything that mattered—good company, questionable snacks, and memories destined to linger long after the evening faded. 

We continued walking, and the boys ended up finding tofu in sauce, which they let me taste. I must learn how to cook tofu like that at home. But again, I drew the line at eating durian. “It can have a rather pungent smell,” he said, going for the understatement of the year.

As we left the main drag, the goal was to find a watering hole. And we did! More beer, and a last chance to have a bit to eat. I kept it simple with my food choices, but one of the group tried roasted silk worm chrysalids. Definitely interesting, but it turned out to be one of the less than tasty things of the evening.

The youngsters wanted to go to a nightclub, an idea which wasn’t really for me at nearly 53 years old. I’m not a fan of nightclubs and haven’t set foot in one since the early ‘90s. Still not a fan 30 years later. The elders of the group headed out for a beer, and the more adventurous of them had rice wine—or rather, rice alcohol. I ended up chatting to one of them until half past six in the morning. He had things to get off his chest, and I entered Uncle Ian mode.