Joey Phoenix Media
Photographer • Videographer


Salem, MA Portrait and Event Photographer
Posts in Travel
It Was a Bloody Pineapple!: 7 Days in Edinburgh

The first time I was in Edinburgh it was 2011. I was fresh out of college and still mostly clueless about the world. Doe-eyed, moving to Boston in less than a month, and uncertain about my future, I booked a trip with my sister and we hopped around the UK. The two days we had in Edinburgh were spent dodging crowds at the Fringe, eating chips and curry, and being perpetually soaked. 

I loved it. 

Flash forward nearly 6 years and I was going again, only this time I would be more prepared. I decided to do some research.

My views of Scotland prior to this adventure were advised by three different sources: Trainspotting, the stories of Loch Ness (especially the terrible book by Sara Gruen "At the Water's Edge"), and Brigadoon.  

And oh yes, Braveheart. 

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In the Land of Kokopelli Part 2

“The desert could not be claimed or owned–it was a piece of cloth carried by winds, never held down by stones, and given a hundred shifting names... Its caravans, those strange rambling feasts and cultures, left nothing behind, not an ember. All of us, even those with European homes and children in the distance, wished to remove the clothing of our countries. It was a place of faith. We disappeared into landscape.” - Michael Ondaatje

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In the Land of Kokopelli: A Journey to Northern Arizona (Part 1)

"Is he friendly?" I ask of the woman sitting at the picnic table adjacent to mine. She is handing a sandwich to her son with one hand, and holding the leash of a fidgety golden retriever with the other. The dog immediately starts barking at a passerby, a male wearing a bright green running shirt. 

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Sriracha Donuts on the Peninsula ~ 2 Days in Charleston, SC

It had been 6 years since I walked the uneven streets of Charleston, SC. For a summer I had called this peninsula my home, and ever since I’ve looked for reasons to return – but the timing wasn’t right until now.

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Chasing Black Squirrels All the Way to Ohio (Part 2)

I awoke slightly after dawn to humans downstairs, probably human neighbors, possibly neanderthals, screaming ALASKA! ALASKA! as if they were Vitus Jonassen Bering and his team of Siberians.

**I would later find out that Adam had an Alaskan license plate, that this happens to him a lot, and that the overenthusiastic neighbors thought we were all from the northwest extremities. Now THAT would have been an epic drive...

I rolled over and peeked my nose out over the windowsill, and confirmed they were human. Then the cat leapt onto my back. I guess I was going to have to wake up.

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Chasing Black Squirrels All the Way to Ohio (Part 1)

I spent the first nine years of my life in the cornfields of mid-eastern and southern Illinois. The familiar sight of silos, cows, and freshly tilled fields continue to fill me with a type of aromatic nostalgia that makes me feel like I'm about to turn double digits. 

It's a strange sort of magic, and I find myself at least twice each year making the excuse to ride back to the midwest by plane or train.

This time, I traveled by car.

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Losing the GPS and Finding History: A Detour through the White Mountains

A trip to the White Mountains of New Hampshire offers the things you might expect: scenic mountain vistas, serpentine rivers, and epic journeys on the historic Cog railway. However, it’s the things you don’t necessarily expect which rest firmly in your mind long after you’ve driven away – the sudden detours, the hidden destinations, the spots less prominent on the tourist maps.

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From Beverly to Bridgetown: Cross Country with Caroline and Stanley Part 1

In January 2015 I drove across the United States with Caroline, a lovely neo-punk alternative vegan chick, and her gentlemanly cat Stanley. The following is a brief account of what ensued, told from my heavily biased perspective.

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Wine and Raindrops in Fog City

Planes are like boats except for one critical aspect, when you get sick there's no side to retch over. Ok, planes are actually very little like boats, but at 30,000 feet up I was more seasick than I had ever been on the open water, and my clothes were soaked through. For some reason, a monsoon had swept through the Boston area the night of our departure for the west coast, and we hadn't had the presence of mind to call a cab to take us to the train station. We had lugged our cases over half a mile, our shoes quickly filling up with rainwater, through marshy streets and over flooded train tracks. At one point we had thought to turn back, a two foot deep gully stood in our path with no way around it. We resorted to throwing our cases, leaping over, and hoping that we wouldn't slip into the muck.

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