Trippin Soundscapes aims to immerse you in the sounds and visuals of destinations across the world. First in our series is Zihua, where Director and Photographer, Will Reid, transports us to the shores of Zihuatanejo. A note from Will below...
This time is incredibly difficult for those lucky enough to indulge their wanderlust, and even more heartbreaking for those who are loosing jobs and livelihoods as a result of never before seen clamps on travelling around the planet. I’m sure that more now than ever, people are pining for adventure or remembering past trips when flying between countries and throwing yourself into the deep end of new cultures was a given privilege of the modern day and not, as is now, at best prohibited by governments and at worst a big risk to both your health and that of those whom you’re visiting.
As I found myself looking out of my window, daydreaming, I was revisiting memories of when I was in Mexico shooting the film A Day In Paradise with Trippin. It suddenly occurred to me we had still plenty of footage that hadn’t made the cut for the film and so, with drawn curtains, I sat at my computer and dived into the rushes, vicariously living again the experiences of that trip over an overcast, milky London dusk.
One of the entire sections in our footage was of an immense but brief thunderstorm that rolled over the house we were staying at while filming in Zihuatanejo. The sky darkening, the thunder clapping, the rain falling in heavy hot globules onto the terrace and through the palm leaves. It had been a full body sensory experience that I’d stood in and filmed, but had never looked at again.
I thought now would be the perfect time to unearth this moment in time and assemble it very simply so I could share it with the rest of the Trippin team who had lived it. But after cutting it together - this simple, rhythmic sequence of slow motion - it occurred to me it was a rather lovely slice of escapism. The sound design of the storm is very intoxicating and, closing your eyes, you could almost trick your brain into smelling the heat of the air and the immensity of the petrichor that settled over the hills after the rain had subsided.
So, enjoy this. It’s nothing much. It is, in plain terms, just a moment from a day several years ago in another part of the world, but it is quite relaxing. And if you allow yourself to go with it, the sound can transport you for a few moments. It’s maybe a chance to zone out and it might be just the sprinkle of what you’re after to break you out of the isolation cycle, however briefly, before you get back to counting rolls of toilet paper or eyeing up the last cans of beer in the fridge at 3pm (or is that just me?