It seems like just last month that I was doing a year end wrap of my most popular Instagrams of the year. Time sure does fly when you’re having fun.

This year, Myanmar, Ukraine and Jordan all featured in the most popular images. And no doubt why… they’re some of my favorite places to photograph and visit. I’ve been diving deep into each country as I continue to search out new stories to share. It’s my passion.

Follow me on Instagram @dustinmain

#10 Frame It 'till You Make It

Think you've seen it all? Change your perspective, or add some. You can make anything your own.

Step outside the box, or if you don't have one, maybe you can make one.

There are many ways to look at something, and just as many ways to capture it. It’s one of the benefits of joining other photographers as you’re out hunting for great compositions… you have a chance to see what they see. That doesn’t mean “monkey see, monkey do,” but rather observing how others see the world, and using that to add to the way that you see it.

And if you're not sure where to start, let me show you how in November for the Un-Tour To Myanmar.

#9 Taking What The Land Gives

Tin Tin (23) has farmed this land with her family as long as she can remember.

The land in the plains of Bagan are hardly optimal for farming. In fact, the soil is so poor that only a few low-value crops grow here. Some beans can make it in the sandy ground, including pigeon beans which are mostly sent to China. These hard beans need to be boiled for a long time before eating, and that adds it's own cost. They're just not worth wasting the limited resources for using these themselves here.

Tin Tin's family plants peanuts on their land. Harvest time is the beginning of winter here, but the temperature is hardly cool. Stints of working for ~20 minutes are bookended by breaks under the large tree to gain respite from the sun. Hats, long sleeved shirts, and natural thanaka smeared on the face help keep those sun rays at bay. The latter, a natural sunscreen / cosmetic made from the bark of the thanaka tree, is popular here in Myanmar.

The oxen are tied together and drag a wooden structure on the ground behind them, with metal poles attached to dig deeper below the ground. Oo Than Lo, her father, steps on this contraption to keep it down while coaxing the animals to move ahead. This pulls at the roots of the peanuts, lifting them out or the ground as they pass.

Tin Tin and her younger brother Ko Chin (18) pick up these bunches, shake off some of the sand and dirt, and toss them into a pile for later. They've been here since early in the morning, and they'll be here until late in there afternoon before heading back to their village, Minnanthu, a couple of kilometers away.

Tin Tin has finished her schooling, but jobs in her field are tough to come by as the education system is poor at best. Either way, it's her hope that farming the land here won't be part of her future for too much longer.

#8 Cafe Chernobyl

When you picture the aftermath of a nuclear apocalypse in your mind, what does it look like? Abandoned buildings? Trees without their foliage, and a world devoid of colors? This was one of the reasons I went to the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone in winter.

Honestly, it's pretty true. An overcast winter day has it's way of sucking the color, and life out of a place. The wind whistles through the barren trees as you make your way through snow that goes up to your knees with each step. It's a feeling, and it comes out in emotions and in my case, photography.

That made this cafe, in the abandoned city of Pripyat, extra special. Located on the river going through the city, this would have been as hip of a spot you could find in the Soviet Union in 1986, or at least around these parts.

Pripyat, a town of ~50000, was made for local workers at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. The average age around here was about 26, and this was a great place to be. Good jobs, a fully stocked modern grocery store, and excellent amenities and parks.

As I approach from the cafe from the front, the faded colors of the stained glass windows give a hint of color. Around back, I pass through a side door, avoiding debris strewn about the ground from damaged walls and a ceiling that is slowly collapsing. And then I enter this room.

With the backlight of the last hints of daylight pouring through, the colors of the windows hit my eyes in a way nothing else has here for the past three days in the zone. Stretching 6m (20ft) tall, they're beautiful enough to be in any metropolis today.

I've never been terribly interested in human history, partly because I find it hard to put myself in a place while trying to imagine what it was like at that time. But here it's a bit different. The Chernobyl disaster happened during my lifetime, when I was a young child. Standing here, I'm beginning to understand what it was like to be here.

This was a place of joy, of hope, and of possibility. The hope of nuclear power that would eliminate all of our energy worries. A new world.

Today, it's a lone bright spot on a landscape that shows us what happens when something goes terribly wrong.

#7 The Real Night Lights

We just don't appreciate the stars the way we should, but at least being in Myanmar helps.

It's been a little shocking to hear from people in my travels that they haven't really seen the night sky in their life. I mean *really* seen. Light pollution in so many cities has gotten to be so bad that in many large cities around the world, you can't see more than a star or two when looking up into the cosmos from the street.

Admittedly, I'm a bit spoiled, growing up in a place where I could see the northern lights from my front door.

It makes me think about adventure. I've always been interested in space, from being in space club and launching rockets as a kid, to a recent trip to the Kennedy Space Center and Cape Canaveral where rockets are literally launched into orbit.

How thirsty would I be for the adventures I currently take on if it weren't for those days in my childhood dreaming about my future as an astronaut? Hard to say.

But in a small village in Northern Shan State, where a battery runs some LED lights to help light up the room while cooking over the fire, I remember that the adventures are out there, on the ground and above.

#6 Life on the Lake

Imagine for a second, growing up on a lake. I don't mean for a nice summer break, but everyday.

Your house is on stilts, 3m above the water. Your main mode of transportation is canoe, and you'll need it to go to school or the corner store. If you're in high school, you might head on to land, but you'll need someone to pick you up after class gets out at the dock.

The lake is life. Fish is of course a dinner staple, but even more so are the vegetables grown in the floating gardens on the lake. Imagine rowing up to the tomato plant to grab what you need for the evening salad.

Heading to another village to visit a friend? You'll probably need to take a long boat (with a motor). The boats are long and shallow, just like the lake, so a regular boat just won't do.

This is just a little slice of life on Inle Lake in Myanmar, one of my favorite spots in the country ♥️

#5 Epiphany

Traditions are a funny thing. If they've always been around us, we feel like they are completely normal. On the other hand, seeing someone else's can often feel like looking into a different world.

Epiphany in Kyiv is a curious one for my outsider eye. With roots in Orthodox Christianity and the baptism of Christ, a cross is cut out of the frozen Dnipro river on January 19th each year. A priest then sanctifies the waters in preparation for the event.

Scores of believers gather around on the shore and atop the ice on the river around the cross. One by one, the shed their heavy winter jackets, warm hats, mitts, and everything else until their underwear (and sometimes more...) Each person then enters the waters, most dunking their entire head, some in more dramatic fashion than others. Afterward they rush out, walking barefoot on the cold ice to a towel and their hopefully dry clothes.

It's thought that plunging into the near-freezing water 3 times will rid one of illness and cleanse the soul.

I, for one, was feeling just fine watching from the sidelines, and still am :)

See more from this event with my photo story “Epiphany: A Freezing River Dip in Kyiv”

#4 A Tiny Look Inside, and To What's Next

If you've been following along with my IG stories, you'll have noticed that I'm back in Jordan. And if you didn't know any better, you might assume that all I do is eat.

And to be fair, that's not all that far off.

But I'm working on something that has been years in the making. I'm really excited about it, and if you're interested in the same things I am, I'm sure you will be too. I, of course, have many stories to share…

In recent days, I've been in northern Jordan, a stones-throw from the borders of both Syria and Israel. To get to this spot, on a cliff overlooking the Sea of Galilee and Golen Heights, I had to pass a pair of military checkpoints.

The sky put on quite a show for me, and after the sun went down and I headed back, I had to pass through the same checkpoints again. When passing through the second on my way back to another home-cooked dinner, the Jordanian soldier handed me some hand-picked wildflowers, bound together by electrical tape. Over the next couple of days passing through when coming and going, they got to know my face and my trademark peace sign as I would throw it up as I roll up.

I'll be back soon enough, and you should too.

#3 Colours of the Markets

It's a routine. Early morning, before sunrise, sellers at the street markets head out in the dark to the local fruit and veggie wholesalers. Digging out their phones, they search for the setting to turn on the flashlight, and shine it on the big piles of produce to inspect it. If you're going to be selling this stuff to your customers today, you had better have the best.

Here in Shan State, much of this stuff comes from nearby, and in some cases direct from the farmers themselves. The cool mountain air and available water make this the prime location for growing in the country. That's great for the sellers, and great for the buyers (like you and I!) too.

But getting the best goods is only half of the problem for the street seller. The next: How do you stand out on a street filled with selling pitching the exact same stuff?

There is a pride in their displays that I often find with street sellers around here. Sometimes, at first glance, you might miss it. In fact you might just see a pile of stuff, or some lightly organized chaos. But stick around for a bit and you may just find the method to the madness. Organizing the goods again between sales, slapping piles of packaged goods with a cloth on a stick to knock away the settling dust from the air, or just sizing up the competition from down the street to make sure they can continue to stand out. It doesn't stop.

So when you have a chance, put the camera away and take a minute or two and really watch the action take place. It's been going on since before you woke up this morning, and chances are they'll still be there long after you've headed away with your basket filled with fresh fruits and veggies too.

#2 Basket Bike

These baskets, arranged in a circle, are brought here to Monywa by boat from a village down the river that makes them. They are then sold at the local market at "wholesale" and distributed throughout the region.

Once they come up the shore, they are attached to a trishaw: a bicycle with a basic little side car welded to the side, like right here.

It can be hard to imagine what these baskets look like, so I wanted to give a little perspective on the size, particularly when it comes to what they are hauling around.

How many baskets do you see on the bike?

#1 Longyi Life

When you arrive in Myanmar, there is an immediate visual change from where you're coming from, be it from the west or even neighboring Thailand right next door.

When I flew to Chaing Mai (Thailand) a month ago from Yangon, I was still wearing my red and black longyi from Myanmar. This circular piece of fabric is a tangible link to the country for me, and what I wear all the time there, so much so that putting on pants again afterward seems strange. It's just so normal I don't even think about it.

When I approached the gate, several Thais came up to me and told me how wonderful I looked and how they loved the color. When boarding, one of the flight attendants remarked how sharp I looked, and how seeing me in my longyi reminded him of his grandfather when he would visit him in the village as a child. The longyi for men in Thailand is mostly a distant memory, and for women there, saved just for those special occasions.

In Myanmar, you still see the longyi, everywhere. With their bright colors and patterns, you can't miss them anytime you open your eyes. The same goes for thanaka, the bark of a tree ground down into a paste on a stone and rubbed onto the face for sun protection (or for style) that you see on the young girl.

I write this from another world, an apartment in snowy central Kiev. Outside is mostly shades of grey, with the red-brown of the brick accenting the scene. From a visual perspective, it looks flat in comparison to the vibrant colors on Myanmar.

For the next few weeks, I'll be sharing images and stories from my time here in Ukraine. But for now, I'll be sitting by the heater, watching the life of the streets below from my window above, wearing my favorite longyi.

Do you have a favorite? Let me know in the comments below.

Be sure to follow along on my adventures in 2020 on Instagram, and see what I'm seeing, and live updates from my tours and photography workshops in Myanmar and Jordan.

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