An account of the events, the decision to remove a participant, and what followed. THIS IS A DOSSIER.
Before addressing an incident that occurred during my recent four-day photography expedition in Puebla, Mexico, for Día de Muertos, I want to make one thing absolutely clear: the expedition itself was an outstanding success.
It was an intense, rewarding and memorable photographic experience, built around the people, traditions, places and extraordinary cultural richness of Puebla and its surrounding communities.
One of the participants described his experience in a message sent to me afterwards:
“What an amazing experience!!! Transformative in so many ways. The people we encountered were so gracious.”
Those words reflect what the expedition was intended to be and what it ultimately became for the participant who embraced it fully. I am already considering repeating the experience in Puebla next year.
However, an otherwise successful experience included an incident that I cannot overlook or leave undocumented.
On the fourth and final day, approximately two hours before the scheduled conclusion of the expedition, I made the decision to remove one of the participants.
This was neither an impulsive decision nor one I took lightly. It followed several days of incidents, disagreements and behaviour that progressively affected the experience, the group dynamic and, eventually, my concerns about our safety.
What follows is my personal account, in chronological order, based on my direct experience and the communications exchanged before and after the expedition.
I will not publish this man's name. My intention is to document what happened, not to turn this into a public exchange of personal attacks.
Before the expedition
There were already warning signs before the trip began.
The participant frequently preferred telephone calls over straightforward written communication. He questioned the price despite having already received a substantial reduction, from $2,400 to $2,000.
At one point, he even calculated how much I would supposedly earn from having two participants, suggesting that I would make $4,400.
I found this attitude intrusive. A client is entitled to ask questions about a price, but calculating the organizer's income and treating it as grounds for further negotiation is something else.
The expedition had originally been organized at the request of another participant. We had discussed Oaxaca but eventually agreed on Puebla as an alternative. The possibility of a second participant was accepted by the first participant, and only afterwards did the other person express interest in joining.
Following repeated discussions about payment, I eventually told him that I did not think he should join the expedition. He insisted that he had already booked his flight and hotel and genuinely wanted to participate. I eventually agreed to let him come.
During our first telephone conversation, he also mentioned that he would introduce me to women, despite knowing that I am married. It was an unnecessary and peculiar remark, but I did not consider it sufficient reason to cancel the arrangement.
There was more.
Throughout the expedition, he repeatedly suggested that I should leave my wife because, according to him, she did not cook. He also proposed introducing me to his own so-called girlfriends.
He presented these women as something different from the escort services he subsequently attempted to arrange during the trip. I found the distinction, and the repeated unsolicited advice about my marriage, particularly inappropriate.
My private life was none of his business. I had no interest in his suggestions, and I had never invited him to comment on my marriage.
There was another issue that would become relevant later: politics.
At our first dinner, he introduced political discussion, apparently hoping to persuade me of his views. I told him that I did not want to discuss politics during the trip. I was there to photograph, teach and share an experience, not to debate political positions.
Day One: An introduction that did not go as planned
The first participant had already been in Puebla for two days when I arrived. We met at the Zócalo, took some photographs and talked.
My intention was to hold the introductory presentation at Profética. When the second participant called to say he was about to arrive, we started making our way there.
The first participant mentioned that he knew a quiet restaurant where we could sit and talk. I agreed, even though it was not my original plan.
Then the other participant called again. He said that someone had recommended a restaurant he described as Michelin-starred and asked us to come to him instead.
This irritated me. The introductory dinner was included in the program and was to be paid for by me. I had not planned to take everyone to an expensive restaurant of that kind.
When we arrived, he made a remark along the lines of:
“Do these prices look expensive to you?”
It was an uncomfortable way to address the person hosting and paying for the introductory dinner.
The presentation itself was equally unsuccessful. Between his interruptions and the constant interruptions around us, I found it extremely difficult to speak and conduct the introduction as intended.
Instead of having a proper opportunity to explain the photographic approach, the itinerary and the experience ahead, the evening became unnecessarily difficult.
It was also during this dinner that he introduced political discussion. I repeated that I did not want to talk about politics.
I want to clarify something because it would later become one of his accusations: I did not arrive at this expedition intending to discuss Trump or American politics. The initial political discussion was introduced by him, not by me.
Day Two: Cholula
The second day was dedicated to Cholula.
At the end of the day, the participant commented that he had not enjoyed the experience. During the drive, he said:
“Tomorrow had better be better.”
The day also included a series of disagreements over food and where to eat.
He did not want to eat at the market. He wanted to go to a restaurant where he could have a large fish. Once there, he asked the waiter to show him the fish. After seeing it on ice, he concluded that it was not fresh and must have been frozen. He then changed his mind and said he wanted a steak instead.
We left.
This was not an isolated incident. It followed the previous day's situation, when we had abandoned the restaurant originally chosen for the introductory dinner because he wanted us to go somewhere else.
He subsequently changed his mind again and said he wanted tacos. I had to pay for a taxi to take us to another location simply to accommodate this change.
We eventually went for tacos árabes. He asked the waitress for cilantro, which is not a standard ingredient in this particular preparation. The request created an unnecessarily awkward interaction with the waitress.
Later, during the drive, he began negotiating with someone for paid sexual services using his smartphone.
This was not simply a matter of personal taste or private choices. We were travelling together in Mexico, and his actions introduced a situation to which the other participant and I had not agreed to expose ourselves.
I will return to the question of safety because it became an increasingly important concern for me.
We returned by Uber, as planned, with the transportation paid for by me.
When we reached his hotel, he said he needed to go upstairs to leave a bottle of alcoholic coffee that he had entrusted to the other participant. He had also left his jacket in my backpack.
He asked us to wait because we were supposedly going to the Zócalo afterwards. The wait became prolonged. I eventually sent him a message. He replied that he had not realized we were still waiting outside and that we would see each other the following day.
Day Three: Atlixco
The third day took us to Atlixco.
At some point, the participant wanted to return to Puebla earlier than planned because there was a parade taking place there.
I preferred to remain at the cemetery in Atlixco. I knew there was not an enormous amount to see or photograph, but that was not the point. For me, even a single person in that cemetery, with the traditions and atmosphere surrounding Día de Muertos, could be more interesting photographically than an entire parade.
We disagreed.
Throughout the expedition, he had also developed a habit of consulting ChatGPT to challenge or contradict my suggestions and decisions. This happened even during relatively ordinary conversations.
I am not against technology, and I use it myself, but repeatedly turning to an application to challenge the person responsible for organizing and guiding an experience is not a particularly constructive way to participate in it.
By this stage, I was seriously considering asking him to leave.
He seemed to understand that the situation had reached a critical point and asked me to let him continue. I agreed to give him another opportunity.
At the cemetery, he made a comment about there being first-class and second-class cemeteries. The remark upset the other participant.
Later, the other participant told me that he was certain the experience would have been considerably better if it had been just the two of us.
That comment confirmed something I had already been feeling: the problem was no longer simply a difference in expectations or personalities. There was a recurring lack of consideration for the people around him, including myself, the other participant and, most importantly, the local people we encountered.
I was increasingly uncomfortable with the attitude of superiority I perceived in his interactions with people in the communities we visited.
The incident in Atlixco
There was another incident in Atlixco that, in retrospect, should not be left out of this account.
During our visit, the participant approached an elderly woman who appeared to be experiencing significant cognitive or mental difficulties. He wanted her to walk in front of a particular house so that he could photograph her. He physically blocked her path with his own body, preventing her from simply continuing to walk, and offered her money.
I found this behaviour deeply inappropriate. The woman was in a visibly vulnerable situation, and rather than respecting her space and autonomy, he attempted to direct her movements and use her presence for a photograph, even offering money in the process.
This was not an ordinary disagreement about photography or the way we approached a location. It concerned the treatment of a vulnerable person who had not volunteered to become part of anyone's photographic project.
Looking back, this incident alone should have been sufficient reason to end his participation in the expedition. I nevertheless allowed the experience to continue, giving him another opportunity. That decision was mine, and in retrospect I believe I should have acted earlier.
A growing concern about safety
There is another aspect of this experience that deserves to be documented separately.
His behaviour did not only create tension and discomfort. It also raised concerns about the safety of the people travelling with him.
Mexico is a country where I have lived and worked for many years. I understand that travelling here requires awareness, discretion and respect for local people and circumstances.
I do not consider it responsible to expose other people to unnecessary risks simply because one participant chooses to behave without sufficient consideration.
There were three particular concerns.
1. Attempting to arrange escort services
As already mentioned, during one of our drives he used his smartphone to negotiate paid sexual services.
I am not interested in judging someone's private life. However, seeking these services while travelling with other people creates potential complications that extend beyond the individual making the arrangements.
The circumstances surrounding prostitution and paid sexual services can involve unpredictable situations. Neither I nor the other photographer had any reason to become involved in those circumstances.
2. His attitude towards local people
His interactions with people we encountered increasingly concerned me.
In Mexico, and particularly when travelling through communities outside the major urban centres, treating people disrespectfully, provoking them or humiliating them can have unpredictable consequences.
I am not suggesting that anyone threatened us or that a violent incident actually occurred. I am saying that I was uncomfortable with the possibility of being exposed to unnecessary confrontation because of his behaviour.
In certain communities, such confrontations can escalate. I have no intention of pretending that every situation is harmless simply because we are there as photographers.
3. Discussing substantial personal wealth in an Uber
During one Uber journey, he openly discussed millions of dollars and the properties he manages.
There is nothing inherently wrong with being wealthy or discussing one's professional activities. The problem is the lack of discretion.
Uber is generally a reliable means of transportation, but we do not necessarily know who is listening, who is driving or how information shared casually inside a vehicle might be used.
Discussing substantial financial assets and property holdings in front of strangers is an unnecessary exposure.
Once again, the issue was not simply his personal choice. We were travelling together, and his indiscretion could potentially have affected everyone in the vehicle.
I am documenting these concerns because they contributed to my growing feeling that the situation was becoming unacceptable.
As the person responsible for the expedition, I had to consider the safety and well-being of both photographers, not just the preferences of one participant.
Day Four: Huaquechula
The final day was supposed to be the highlight of the expedition.
Huaquechula is known for its extraordinary Día de Muertos altars and for a tradition of hospitality that is particularly meaningful. Families open their homes to visitors, offering food and welcoming people who come to pay their respects and experience the tradition.
There is a custom involving the offering of a candle to a family. By bringing a candle, visitors become guests of that household and are welcomed with food. The families taking part in this tradition alternate from year to year.
For me, this was exactly the kind of experience that makes a photographic expedition worthwhile. It is not simply about finding interesting subjects or taking pictures. It is about understanding a place, respecting its customs and allowing yourself to become part of an experience, even if only temporarily.
The morning went reasonably well, but the same difficulties continued.
The participant wanted to eat before taking part in the local hospitality tradition. He initially suggested going to the market. When he discovered that the food he wanted was not available with cilantro, he simply said “OK” and walked away, leaving the vendors behind without much consideration.
Eventually, he found somewhere else to eat, and this time he paid for the meal himself. I ate very little, but that was not important.
At that place we met Ricardo, who invited us to visit his mezcal business.
The visit was a pleasant and unexpected opportunity. We were welcomed, talked and tasted mezcal. We each had approximately three small glasses.
I want to be transparent about this because a subsequent message accused me of getting drunk while guiding the expedition.
Yes, I drank mezcal. So did the others. We had a tasting in a convivial setting. That is not the same thing as being drunk. I was not intoxicated, and I reject the allegation that I was guiding the expedition while drunk.
After the visit, we returned to Huaquechula.
The participant was becoming increasingly impatient. He said something along the lines of:
“Yes, but let's hurry up and find a house, the first one we find, and then go back to Puebla.”
That attitude was already at odds with the purpose of being there. We were not looking for the quickest available meal. We were guests in a community that was opening its doors to us.
Eventually, we found a family willing to welcome us.
The family offered us food without asking for payment. This was precisely the tradition we had come to experience.
A young boy, approximately eight years old, was serving food. The participant repeatedly addressed him as “Sir, sir”.
Then, looking at the chicken on his plate, without tasting it, he declared that it was raw. His reaction was visibly disgusted.
He had not even tried the food before making that judgment.
A woman sitting at a nearby table described his behaviour as rude. The atmosphere became tense, and initially people were looking at all three of us with disapproval.
The other participant intervened. He explained that we were not in a restaurant, but guests in a family's home, and said that he wanted to stay and experience the tradition properly.
I agreed.
I told the participant that the other guest and I would remain, but that he was no longer welcome to continue the expedition. I explained that his behaviour towards the family was disrespectful and that I was ending his participation because of it.
He eventually asked me:
“Are you saying I have to leave?”
I replied:
“Yes. You're out. You're expelled from my expedition.”
I then spoke with the woman in Spanish. I was deeply upset by what had happened, and the conversation was emotional. She was visibly offended and even began to justify herself, although she had done absolutely nothing wrong.
During that conversation, she brought up Trump and the behaviour of some of his supporters. I responded to what she was saying. I also made a point of explaining that the other participant was American, but that he was a completely different person. The two things should not be confused.
This matters because the participant would later accuse me of repeatedly bringing up Trump and introducing politics into the expedition.
That is not what happened in this conversation. The subject was raised by the woman, and I responded to her.
As the participant was leaving, I said “gringo de mierda” loudly enough for him to hear.
I am not going to pretend I did not say it. I was angry, and I wanted him to hear it.
I do not consider myself a racist person. I considered his behaviour towards the people we encountered deeply disrespectful, and I was angry at what I perceived as an attitude of superiority towards them.
The expression I used was offensive, and I take responsibility for having said it. But it was also the culmination of an extremely tense situation, after several days of behaviour that I had found disrespectful towards me, the other participant and the people who had welcomed us.
As he walked away, more than fifty people, by my estimate, stood up and applauded. Several people came over to shake my hand.
I remember shouting:
“¡Viva México, cabrones!”
An elderly man shook my hand and told me that I had defended them and the Mexican people from what he called an imperialist.
I recount these reactions because they were part of what happened. They do not establish that every person in the village shared the same opinion, nor do they make my own words automatically right. But they do convey how strongly the incident was perceived by some of the people present.
I had not gone to Huaquechula to create a confrontation. I had gone there to share an extraordinary cultural experience. Yet, at that moment, I felt that allowing the behaviour to continue would have meant accepting it.
As the person responsible for the expedition, I had a responsibility not only to the paying participants, but also to the communities that welcomed us.
We cannot arrive in somebody else's home, benefit from their generosity, photograph their traditions and then behave as though their hospitality entitles us to judge or humiliate them.
That was the point at which I decided that the expedition could not continue with him.
After the expulsion
The expedition did not end when the participant left.
The other participant and I stayed in Huaquechula and continued photographing. We did not abandon the day or the experience.
Later, when it was time to return to Puebla, we discovered that there were no Ubers or taxis available at that hour. A local family offered us a ride.
I bought elotes for the family as a small gesture of gratitude. The other participant noticed that the family had admired a ceramic pumpkin they had said they wanted to buy the following week. He bought it for them.
It was a simple gesture, but one that stayed with me. We had been welcomed by strangers, and we wanted to show our appreciation in return.
We eventually arrived back in Puebla.
I do not know how the expelled participant left Huaquechula, what transportation he arranged or what he did afterwards. Once I had ended his participation, I no longer had any responsibility for his arrangements or movements.
The messages that followed
At approximately 5 p.m., after the expulsion, I began receiving messages from him. At some point I noticed that one message had been deleted.
At 10 p.m., he sent a longer message in English.
He said that his office would send me an invoice for the amount he wanted reimbursed and threatened to dispute the payment through PayPal if I refused.
He also announced that he would publish his account on review platforms and contact Fujifilm.
His accusations included that I had a temper, that I had been drunk while guiding the group, that I had refused to cover dinner despite it being included in our agreement, that I had called him racist names and that I had repeatedly brought up how much I hated Trump.
I want to address these allegations individually.
The meals
The written program included one dinner: the introductory dinner on the first evening. No other meals were included in the expedition fee.
The introductory dinner was to be paid for by me. The program did not require me to take the group to a Michelin-starred restaurant, nor did it include the cost of meals throughout the four days.
Alcohol
We visited a mezcal business and took part in a tasting. I had approximately three small glasses, as did the others.
I was not drunk. I do not accept the attempt to turn a shared tasting into an allegation of intoxication while guiding.
Politics
The political discussion at the introductory dinner was initiated by the participant. I said I did not want to discuss politics.
At Huaquechula, it was the local woman who brought up Trump and the behaviour of some of his supporters. I responded to her comments and made a distinction between those attitudes and the other participant, who was American.
The language I used
I did use the expression “gringo de mierda” as he was leaving, deliberately loudly enough for him to hear.
I have included it here because leaving it out would be dishonest.
It was an angry and offensive expression. I do not claim otherwise. But it does not erase the events that led to the expulsion, and it does not change the reason I made that decision: his treatment of a family that had welcomed us into their home.
I did not respond to his message. Unless he takes further action, I have no intention of entering into an exchange with him.
The other participant's account
There is another perspective that deserves to be included.
The second participant, who remained until the end of the expedition, sent me the following message after returning home.
I am publishing his words as he wrote them, subject to his permission.
Alex,
What a wonderful experience. I thoroughly enjoyed learning from you. As I review my work, I see a definite change in the way I approach photography.
As I mentioned a few times while we walked, this was a top-ten experience of my lifetime. Exploring new landscapes, new cultures, and new food, and allowing myself to sink into someone else's way of life, made me a better photographer. In Puebla, Cholula, Atlixco, and Huaquechula, I felt to a certain extent part of another's way of life. We laughed, we learned, and we met wonderful people. It was absolutely amazing.
I know the group dynamic changed our plans in Huaquechula. I think we made the right call, but I hope on a future trip to experience the cemetery and capture those visuals.
During my travel home, I had time to reflect and make a quick pass through over 1,000 photos, not counting a few burst-mode moments.
I would highly recommend your workshop to other photographers, but only if they are willing to soak into the culture. There is no other way to properly document a holiday like Día de Muertos.
I am already looking forward to our next adventure.
Thank you again, my friend.
Warm regards,
John Matthews
PUEBLA 2026
I believe this message speaks for itself.
It describes the photographic and cultural value of the expedition, the encounters with local people and the positive impact of the experience.
It also explicitly acknowledges that the group dynamic changed the plans in Huaquechula and that he believes we made the right decision.
I do not need to add anything to his testimony.
What this experience means to me
I have been organizing photographic experiences and teaching photography for many years.
I have worked with people from different countries, backgrounds and levels of experience. I understand that participants may have different expectations, personalities, opinions and ways of approaching photography.
Disagreement is not a problem. A demanding participant is not necessarily a difficult participant. And nobody is required to agree with everything I say.
But there is a line between disagreement and disrespect.
There is also a responsibility that comes with travelling as part of a group, particularly in places where we are guests.
A photography expedition is not a private bubble in which the guide and paying participants are entitled to do whatever they want.
Particularly during Día de Muertos, when the experience involves entering communities, visiting cemeteries and being welcomed into private homes, there is a responsibility that goes beyond the photographic itinerary.
We are guests.
The people who open their homes to us are not attractions, props or service providers. They are people sharing something meaningful with strangers. Their generosity should never be mistaken for an obligation to tolerate disrespect.
The same applies to the people we encounter in markets, restaurants, streets and businesses. They deserve consideration and respect, regardless of their economic circumstances or social position.
Had I allowed the situation in Huaquechula to continue without intervening, I would have felt that I had failed not only the family, but also the responsibility I had accepted when organizing the expedition.
The other participant and I would have remained there as though nothing had happened.
I could not do that.
I know that removing a participant from a paid experience is a serious decision. I know that the words I used as he left were not appropriate. I am not trying to portray myself as someone who never loses his temper or always handles every situation perfectly.
But I also know why I made that decision.
I did not remove someone because he disagreed with me, because of his nationality or because of his political opinions.
I removed him because, in my judgment, his behaviour towards the family that had welcomed us into their home had crossed a line that I was not prepared to accept.
His repeated disregard for other people, his interventions in my private life, his behaviour during the expedition and the unnecessary situations of potential risk he created had progressively undermined my confidence in continuing with him.
The decision was mine, and I take responsibility for it.
The expedition remained what it had been intended to be: four days of photography, encounters, generosity, cultural discovery and extraordinary human experiences.
One incident does not define the entire expedition. But neither should a successful expedition require me to remain silent about something I believe was fundamentally wrong.
Photography is about looking. But looking also means recognizing the people in front of us, understanding the places we enter and accepting that we are not always the centre of the experience.
Sometimes the most important decision a photographer can make has nothing to do with taking a picture.
It is knowing when to put the camera down and stand up for the people who have welcomed you.
The timing of the expulsion
It is important to clarify that the expedition was already nearing its conclusion when I made the decision to remove the participant.
It was approximately 4:30 p.m. on the fourth and final day. The scheduled experience had only about an hour and a half remaining. In other words, the participant had taken part in virtually the entire four-day expedition before I informed him that he was no longer welcome to continue.
This was not a decision made lightly or at the beginning of the experience. It came after four days together, following several incidents and, in particular, the events that took place in Huaquechula.
A clarification about my professional role
There is one final point I want to make absolutely clear: I was not this participant's tour guide.
He had enrolled in my photography workshop, in which he was a student and I was the photographer and photo coach. My role was to teach, provide photographic guidance, facilitate access to places and situations, and help participants develop their ability to observe and photograph.
This distinction matters. The experience was not a guided sightseeing tour, nor was I acting as a personal guide or travel companion. The people who joined had enrolled in a professional photography learning experience, with the expectations and responsibilities that such a relationship entails.
My responsibility was to the participants as students, but also to the people and communities we encountered during the workshop. Teaching photography does not mean accepting every kind of behaviour in the name of customer service. It also means setting boundaries when someone's conduct compromises the dignity of others or the integrity of the experience.
A final consideration
There is one further aspect of this situation that I believe deserves consideration.
Following the expedition, attempts were made to obtain a financial settlement in connection with the events described above. I have no intention of allowing financial demands, threats of public criticism or pressure to dictate how I document my own professional experiences.
I am prepared to take responsibility for my actions and to address any legitimate claims through the appropriate channels. That does not mean accepting a version of events that omits relevant circumstances, nor does it mean remaining silent about conduct that I believe deserves to be documented.
The events described here are not based on speculation or invented accusations. They concern things I personally witnessed, conversations I participated in and situations experienced by the people travelling with me.
My account is not an invitation to engage in a public argument. It is a record of what happened and an explanation of why I made the decision I did.
I will not withdraw my account simply because documenting these events is uncomfortable for someone else. Equally, I will not use this publication to make claims that I cannot substantiate.
