Being Published in National Geographic Traveller

My work featured as the March 2024 Snapshot

Frankly, this is a bit of a pinch-me moment. I’m beyond thrilled to share a photo of mine appearing in the March issue of National Geographic Traveller magazine, a UK publication.

It was through a bit of luck and happenstance that the photo was made in the first place. And I’ll share more about that—plus the wild goose chase of tracking my subject down—in a bit. But first, here is a PDF of my photo as published in the magazine, a full page spread, which is in actual print (!!!) hitting newsstands shortly, and will likely be online as well.

I’m just so delighted to share it with you.

Here is Maria Kampouraki, selling sea sponges from the back of her boat, on the harbor in Chania, Crete.

Before going further, I have to give a massive THANKS and shout out to my friend the sailor, Nikos, and owner of Notos Sailing, who I have known for years visiting Crete off and on, and who helped immensely in tracking Maria down. It was a bit of a wild goose chase as I said. But without Nikos, this photo would not be printed in the magazine, period.

When I first heard from the wonderful Editor at Nat Geo, that they would love to run the photo, I was elated, of course. But, he added, that to do so I must to provide the subject’s full name. At that point, I knew I had a challenge ahead of me.

First, I’ll tell you a bit about the image. The photo was shot on a visit to the island with friends some years ago, and it occurred in a matter of moments. We were walking by on Chania’s Venetian Harbor near the Guardhouse, on our way to see Nikos about sailing, actually. We saw this lovely woman selling her sponges and we stopped to buy a couple. Simple. I didn’t stage anything, or scout in advance looking for a suitable scene or backdrop. Those days, my camera was always in my hand, while traveling. (Nowadays I have a toddler in my hand, along with a camera if I’m feeling strong.)

What struck me, and prompted the photo was the warmth she exuded. The rich blue of her dress was echoed in the gorgeous blue Aegean just behind her, and I loved the focus of them selling just one kind of item. The natural sponges have great texture en masse like that, and I was delighted by how they displayed their wares simply, in baskets and hanging in nets. Plus, they are merely not something I was accustomed to seeing for sale in a boat by the sea. I suppose all of that made the scene feel like it could be somewhat timeless, aside from a few modern elements on the boat. I only took a couple shots. In fact, I went back into my archives for the original just to see, and there were just two frames. Nearly identical. But in this one she had just a bit more of a twinkle in her eye.

But who was she? Don’t mistake me, I absolutely asked her permission for her photo at the time, and may have even given her my card. But I did not say, “hey, this may run in National Geographic Traveller in a few years time, if I’m lucky, and could I get your full name and permission to publish, for when that time may or may not occur?”

Now, I had to track her down. I started by emailing Nikos, of course. Nikos works on the harbor where his boat is moored and his sailing business is based. He said that he had seen her around in the past, but that it had been some time. At the moment he was in Athens for the month, and wouldn’t be back in Chania for some time. But, he would ask around. Super. I was a step closer. It’s a good time to mention that this search was taking place this past winter, not exactly high season for sailing in Greece. Of course Nikos would be in Athens right now, it was winter and not the prime time to be on the water in Crete. Desperate, I reached out to another Greek friend here, on the off chance that she might know someone who knew someone who knew someone, who knew someone. If you have traveled in Greece, you know that this isn’t too much of a stretch. The hospitality and generosity of the Greek people is truly incredible. Eventually, after a few emails back and forth, Nikos wrote that he thought he found her niece, but that she would call the following week. Late the following week, he had an email of someone I could ask, and he shared it with me. Yay, another step closer. So I emailed this new person and crossed all my fingers and toes. I heard nothing. And kept hearing nothing. Eventually I had to email the lovely editor to say that I didn’t have the name yet, so they should give the slot for the photo to someone else.

But then, I did hear from her! She has a fantastically beautiful Greek name that starts with a K followed by several diphthongs. I love names that start with a K. It turned out to be her granddaughter, who was delighted. She was clearly very proud of her grandmother, Maria Kampouraki, who has 13 grandchildren and is, according to her, “the strongest woman I know.” So we finally had a name and NGT agreed to have it run in the next issue, and here we are.

That was a long anecdote, but perhaps it gives some deeper provenance to the photo. And I have definitely given a peak behind the curtain and how a photo gets published. It’s not my first time seeing work in print, and surely won’t be my last. There is something particularly special about seeing a photo in a newspaper, magazine or media outlet you revere and have read for years—especially so, when it is in actual, physical print. It still delights and thrills.

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Have you been published before? Do you agree with the feeling of excitement? I remember a time when I thought that if I ever did get published in such-and-such magazine, then I will know I have really made it. But the moment arrives and then, there is always another goal ahead, isn’t there? Somehow it is not enough. And the dishwasher still needs to be emptied. This brings up another, bigger thought: at what point do we stop to congratulate ourselves on an achievement and truly say well done to ourselves? If you’re asking me, it’s hardly ever. That’s one of the truly difficult parts of working for yourself. No one really takes time to acknowledge you publicly to say, great job! We must be our own cheerleaders.