During most of my travels in Argentina, I was in the company of five other women (fellow travelers) and one man (our guide). I teased Nacho (Ignacio) more than once about having six wives.

Every time, my group went to a restaurant, our cameras came out. The theme of the tour was The Real Food of Argentina, so it was probably not surprising that we liked to take food related photos.

We liked to take shots of how plates were presented, the wine cellars we were allowed to enter, the chefs (if we were lucky enough to catch them in good moods), and the people with whom we shared our meals.

As a tour guide myself, largely leading high school groups through downtown Chicago to introduce them to our architecture and re-invented green spaces, I admit that I’m not happy about the growing popularity of selfies.

While recognizing the convenience of being able to capture a memory yourself, I can get wistful about how selfies have practically eliminated certain kinds of conversations between strangers.

To me, asking another person to take a photograph of you — for you — can be a doorway to a bigger conversation, to exchanging advice or sharing likes and dislikes.

Maybe you want to have a photograph that helps you remember that you actually saw the Andes or that you stepped out onto a wooden dance floor at a milonga. Maybe you want to remember that you raised a glass of Gran Reserva in a tasting room at a boutique winery.

And while the fact of being in a particular place can be captured with a cellphone camera mounted on a stick, so much more can be infused into a photograph.

It’s beautiful when a person asks something of another person (like taking a photograph). More than likely, the person being asked is only too happy to perform the task.

The desire to have such a memento may push someone into starting a conversation, making a connection with another person that might not otherwise happen.

In negotiating this kind of thing despite a language barrier, one can take encouragement in trying to communicate other things.

There’s a special kind of trust that surfaces when you hand a stranger or new companion your camera. It’s a small act that reinforces a sense of shared humanity and interdependence.

And then there’s something else…

When my group arrived in Mendoza and the weather was not cooperating with planned outdoor activities, Nacho took his six wives to a Zafran, a wonderful restaurant near the main square.

Shortly after walking into the rustic chic dining room, the ladies withdrew their cellphones and standalone cameras and started snapping away.

The artwork was inviting. The table looked simple, yet elegant. The breadbasket included a carefully thought out variety and the way the small dish of butter was transformed into something special by the colorful addition of beet juice — everything seemed worthy of remembering and of photographing.

I don’t exactly remember what I was thinking in the moment, but I handed my camera to Ali, one of my travel companions,  and asked her to take a picture of me. I was basking in the indulgence of a long delectable lunch. I was far away from home, on an adventure where I felt both safe and open to surprises.

I trusted her. She took a picture of me that is better than I could imagine taking myself with a cellphone on a stick.

Not only does traveling help you look at the world differently, it provides new opportunities to take in how others see you.

Maybe a subtle softness or vulnerability or different aspect of your character can best be captured when a fresh eye is behind the lens of a camera.

Trusting that someone else can really see how you are in the world is no small thing.

Photograph by Ali Gordon.