Spritz, Sweat, and a Little Surprise

Life didn’t stop after Lowland. Well, at least not for me. For the snails, that was still debatable.

It was 2023, and while nothing was certain yet, one thing I did know: I had a pretty good chance of securing 3rd place in the international category of Varázslatos Magyarország (Magical Hungary). Of course, this wasn’t handed to me on a silver platter. It took long, sweaty battles, countless sleepless nights, and enough spritz (fröccs) consumption to make winemakers slightly concerned about their reserves.

But the important thing was—this one was in the bag.

Then, in February, the notification arrived: I had placed! What’s more, they asked for the EXIF data for my photo. Excellent! That could only mean one thing: I had definitely won something!

At moments like these, one starts imagining oneself among the greats, nodding humbly while sipping champagne, as the press lines up for interviews. (Or, more realistically, a relative asks, “So, does this mean you can finally buy that new lens?”)

But then came the surprise. Another notification.

I re-read it, thinking at first it must have been the aftereffects of all the spritz. I had also secured a podium spot in the Birds category!

I could have caught a bird with my bare hands out of sheer joy! But then I figured that might be pushing things a bit, so I settled for just standing there, struggling to process what had just happened.

For a moment, I felt like I had finally joined the ranks of the greats. But that feeling didn’t last long—mainly because no one called to inform me that I’d now have a say in the geopolitics of wildlife photography.

However, one thing was certain: that next spritz wasn’t going to drink itself. 😄 The two attached photos also made it into the exhibition—so now at least other people can stare at them too, instead of just me at home.

Hyperjump – The Snail That Moved Faster Than the Post

 

 

The world is full of surprises. Take photo contests, for example. You enter your images, send them off with a casual shrug, and… nothing happens. Business as usual.

Then, out of nowhere—long after you’ve written it off as just another failed attempt—an email strikes like lightning from a clear sky:

“Congratulations! Your photo has placed in the Lowland Photo Contest!”

At this point, the human brain enters emergency mode. Because in today’s world, this can mean one of two things:

  1. I actually won something.
  2. Or a Nigerian prince wants to leave me his fortune… if I just send him a small processing fee first.

But this time, it was real. The Lowland jury had officially declared that my image wasn’t just another drop in the ocean of over 5,000 entries—it was one of the awarded ones! “Highly Commended.”

I was over the moon! Birds could have been caught with my bare hands. Snails too, though that would have been trickier… slimy, slippery little things.

The photo that won me this honor was called “Hyperjump.” A fitting name, considering the painstaking effort it took to convince a snail to move in the right direction for the perfect shot. I spent countless nights experimenting, testing, and searching for the right subject, only to realize that whenever I finally found the right angle, the snail would immediately start crawling in the wrong direction.

But at last, the image was captured. And if someone had told me at the start of my journey that my first big international success would come from a small, stubborn gastropod, well… I’d probably have bought them a beer for their sense of humor.

Then came the big moment—the contest book was published. I eagerly flipped through the pages to find my image, and that’s when I got hit with the next surprise: they had titled my photo “Turbo Snail.”

Turbo Snail.

The very same creature whose speed could be outpaced by a sleepy retirement home on a Sunday morning had now been reborn as an icon of velocity. But you know what? At that moment, I couldn’t have cared less.

Because the important thing was this: that stubborn snail and I had somehow bent time and space, and the Lowland jury had decided—this image deserved recognition.

Sure, the colors in the book weren’t exactly what I had submitted, but at that point, nothing else mattered. As I held that book in my hands, I felt just as proud as if I had won the overall category… or the Olympics.

And if one day a snail ever enters a Formula 1 race? You can bet I’ll be there in the front row, camera in hand. 😄