Call it a personal fetish, or a real obsession. Or maybe I was an el indio bravo in an earlier lifetime. Whatever it is, I am fascinated by the Philippines during its years as a Spanish colony.

In fact, it shows in my work. As a journalist, I’ve encountered much of this Spain-flavored past in my numerous trips around the country. I’ve seen it in nuances both big and small; from the massive baroque churches that dot the Philippine countryside, to the carefree fiesta culture and the devout Catholicism that the Filipinos practice. As a travel photographer, I’ve been inspired many times by grainy, fading prints from those bygone days.

Four-hundred years of Hispanic influence, in a period that stretched from the mid-1500’s to the late 1900’s. To my mind’s eye it was a fabled time of conquistadores and revolucionarios. Of horse-drawn carriages clip-clopping down cobble stoned streets, and of lovely señoritas peeking from behind the windows of grand wooden mansions. Back then, of course, photography was a relatively new craft, its equipment characterized by those clunky daguerreotypes with their massive film plates and messy emulsions.

Save for the last part, I think the era of la colonia must have been a photographer’s playground. When Sony asked me to test-drive their new digital camera – a sleek, funky, 5-megapixel DSC-T7, I saw it as a good opportunity to document an old subject with a new tool. And so, with this camera in my hand and with Spain in my brain, I boarded a plane (pardon the pun) that flew me down to the land once known as Las Islas Filipinas.