// This post references events in Quito’s Episode 4.  You might want to give that a look first. //

A long time ago in a film school far, far away, I studied to be a fiction filmmaker.  My favorite films were fictional, and the stories I wanted to tell certainly didn’t lend themselves to documentary, or so I thought.  Over time my views changed; I came to see that the difference between the two was more a matter of production than anything else.  Documentaries can and do tell any number of stories, often with more grace and less ego (and always with less money) than their fictional counterparts.  Aside from that, the two are remarkably similar.  Most films are made in the editing room, anyway, regardless of the fiction/documentary label.   But, from a production standpoint, the differences are still astounding.

When I made fiction films, I would put months of work into preparation.  I knew how it would look, how it would sound, who would say what to whom and where long before anything was recorded.  In documentary, it’s almost the exact opposite.  The story develops in front of you, and I’m lucky if I even know where we’re going next, let alone what’s going to happen there.  Sometimes I’ll have only a few minutes notice before having to embark on a trip to an indigenous market, or a soccer game, or a gang fight outside our apartment (“South Quito says hello!”).  To say “You have to be prepared for anything” is an understatement.  You have to be prepared for everything.

The guys’ trip in episode 4 is a good example. At around 8 PM one night we got a call from Sarah and Alice (who we kinda knew, a little) to come to Baños, a town about 4 hours from Quito.  Freddie had just quit his job and the girls were out of town, so the timing was more or less perfect… except for that 4 hour bus ride.  But what could we do?  With less than an hour’s notice I packed a small satchel bag and hopped on a bus with Freddie and Ryan.  By 1 AM we were stealing blankets out of the hotel linen closet and making makeshift beds on the floor of the girls’ room.

There’s a couple things I did to “prepare” for that move, I guess.  First, I had my equipment at the ready: batteries charged, memory cards empty, etc.  Second, I have a well-honed ability to travel light.  Since the camera is in a backpack, I have to fit all my belongings into a smaller side bag.  Neither of these things take a whole ton of work, but you have to stay on top of them 24 hours a day, otherwise either one could have scuttled this trip.

The next day brought more surprises.  Sarah and Alice casually mentioned that we’d be going horseback riding because, y’know, we do that all the time.  I guess it doesn’t matter, because had I known before I probably wouldn’t have done much different.   How can you prepare for that? Filming from horseback was challenging but fun, until it started raining and I had to figure out how to pack up the camera from on top of a wet, angry filly.  Also, my horse was the slowest of the bunch and got lost at one point, so I had to figure out dismounting and guiding, too.  Whatever horse.

Sarah and Alice want you to say 'Yes.'

So what have I learned after being subjected to these (and other) unforeseen events?  There’s no secret to being prepared.  Much like making a fiction film, it’s a matter of keeping your equipment clean and in good working order and getting a good night’s sleep.  Also, just like making a fiction,  carrying a toothbrush with you is never a bad idea, and a knife never goes to waste.  But the real trick, the real moral to this story if there even is one, is that you just have be ready to say “Yes.”   It’s the fastest, easiest, and hopefully cheapest way to get into trouble.  Beyond that, just be ready to go a couple days without showering, because you won’t always get to crash in some British girls’ swanky hotel room.  That kind of stuff only happens in the movies.