Childhood memories: playing make-believe you were the hero. In my days: cowboys and knights, but these kids were without a doubt re-enacting David Villa’s better moments. I watched the first half of Spain vs. Portugal in the World Cup at a Spanish bar yesterday, hoping to get a good shot of some one-hundred glorious Spaniards after a goal, but left with the scene of a more interesting game of soccer of five-year olds outside during halftime. Of course, Spain scored right after I got back home.

Every once on a blue moon you stumble upon a story that gets stuck in your mind. The story of Mrs. Popa is one of them. I met her a year ago while on assignment for Amnesty International in the slums just 10 kilometers due North of the posh inner city of Paris, where she lived with her husband, three children, a cat and a goat in a cardboard shack somewhere along the high-speed TGV train track that connects Paris to Brussels and Amsterdam.

She was a hearty woman and invited us in for a remarkably good cup of coffee. Her tale was one of sorrow and despair for their future in Romania and the health of her daughter who didn’t get any treatment for her tuberculosis back home. Thus they ventured out into the world searching for a better life, only to end up there in their shack next to the trains swishing rich tourists back and forth to the Champs Elysées. She managed to make the most out of the hostile environment in which they settled. The lack of water and electricity was a minor nuisance. It was the rejection of people living their rich lifes comfortably tucked away in their lavish homes that hurt, especially the kids throwing stones at her beautiful daughter on her way to school nearby. And still, in all the misery, she was kind and welcoming and invited us over for a BBQ one day. Of course we never went back, our worlds being so close and yet so far apart.

A week ago I went to Paris and must have swooshed past her small cabin. I never managed to spot it, but she’s been on my mind ever since. Mrs. Popa, how have you fared?

After shooting all those politicians in Paris, forgive me for thinking there wouldn’t be any left for the rest of the world; hence the surprise. These here would be trust-busting European Commissioner and, according to Forbes, one of the most influential women in the World: Neelie Kroes, and Dutch state secretary for Health, Welfare and Sport: Jet Bussemaker. They met with me today in Brussels so I could upgrade my handshaking network and now I’m up to date again.

“With hair dark as night / her eyes were like that / of a cat in the dark / they hypnotize me with love / She was a gypsy woman”, Santana sings and he might have been describing the woman in the image, some 20 years ago, for all I know. Although this particular shot was already used in my farewell to Paris, I now have a pdf of the resulting article for download (in Dutch). It was published in the July issue of Wordt Vervolgd, the monthly of the Dutch branch of Amnesty International, an organization I heartily support even if they don’t know how to spell my name…

Even if you don’t have any knowledge of the Dutch language, I still heartily recommend buying the book “In Parijs” by Olivier van Beemen (cover depicted above). Why? I shot the cover image, portrayed the author who in daily life is correspondent in Paris and provided several images inside the book. At just €17.95 you’ll never get another chance to have an authentic Emile Gregoire in your home for less! An added boon for Dutch speaking people is that it’s highly entertaining and provides a solid background of France’s evolution in the past 7 years. Needless to say, I’m very proud of both Olivier’s terrific accomplishment and my tiny share in it. You can find more info and order a signed copy here.

Another still from the same wedding proves the title of this post. Well, at least as far as weather is concerned. And, okay, there are certain limits too. Lightning striking the photographer would be one and others that come to mind are the groom being swept away in an avalanche or the bride flying off in a hurricane. Oh, and I do hate getting wet. But for everything else: the badder, the better. As long as it isn’t too cold, that is.

It’s been a while since I shot a wedding, but last Thursday it was time again to pack some 10 kg of gear and head to Amsterdam. This shot here was taken in the beautiful garden of Museum van Loon on the Keizersgracht. It’s one of my favorites of the day. Udo & Femke, have a great honeymoon; it was a joy working with you!

While this might at first glance look like a fashion shoot, complete with props such as a derelict caravan, the harsh reality is that this 17 year old girl, recently recovered from tuberculosis, lives with her parents and two brothers in a cardboard shack just a few kilometers north of posh Paris in the hope of finding a better future here than back in Romania. You can read more about her in the summer edition of Wordt Vervolgd, the Dutch monthly of Amnesty International, in a feature on the dark side of major tourist attractions.

I’ve discovered a new niche market: shooting the favorite bar of somebody who’s leaving Paris. In this case the somebody was the press officer at the Dutch embassy and her favorite hangout this tiny bar called Le Fanfaron, in the lively Bastille area. It features run-down furniture, red lights (not for the obvious reasons), walls plastered with whatever owner Xavier found in the gutter and the air is filled with all the greatest Rock ‘n’ Roll tunes, played on good old vinyl of course. Highly recommended!

Say what you will about French President Nicolas Sarkozy, just don’t criticize his smashing Sarkozettes or you’ll have to deal with me. You’ve already met Rachida Dati, so now I present the beautiful Mrs (alas, fellows) Rama Yade, Secretary of State for Human Rights, with whom I shook hands today. Besides doing an excellent job, I noticed she has remained a very amiable person. Suffice it to say I won’t be washing my hands for a long time (something I obviously haven’t done since April 2007).