Some cameras are just tools you use and forget. Others? They’re like old friends who’ve seen you at your best and worst. My Sony A77 II is that for me—a scrappy, slightly beat-up companion that’s been there for stray cat rescues, family chaos, and way too many lumpia experiments. It’s not the shiniest thing out there, but this one’s carved out a place in my life, and I’m not trading it in anytime soon.
My wife feeding some cats, picture taken with A77 II
I snagged my A77 II back in 2015, used off eBay for about $800 with a 16-50mm f/2.8 lens that’s still my go-to. I wasn’t trying to be some pro photographer—I just needed something solid to capture the stray animals I feed around Makati. My buddy Richard, who’s basically Sony’s unofficial hype man, talked me into it. The guy’s got a Sony TV, Sony headphones, even a Sony Walkman he swears still sounds better than Spotify. He raved about the A77 II’s autofocus and that flip-out screen, and I thought, alright, let’s give it a shot.
Lenses I would recommend:
When I unboxed it, I’ll be honest: it didn’t feel like a beast. My friend’s Pentax K-1 is like a tank—you could probably drop it off a jeepney and it’d still work (and yeah, I’ve seen him fumble it twice). The A77 II? It’s lighter, a bit plasticky—like it’s putting on a brave face but knows deep down it’s not fooling anyone. I see you King from One Punch Man. Still, there’s this weird charm to it. Not quite a full-on DSLR, not exactly a sleek mirrorless—more like a misfit that knows how to dance.
Strays, Street Food, and the Stuff That Sticks
Young Namaki
This camera’s been with me through moments that hit deep. I’m a solo rescuer, spending my afternoons feeding stray cats and dogs around the city. The first shot I took with the Sony A77 II was of a scrawny tabby kitten I named Namaki, perched on a wobbly plastic garbage bin, yowling like she was demanding a five-star meal. The 24.3-megapixel sensor caught the glint in her eyes, even as the sun dipped behind the barangay. That 12fps burst mode? Got her mid-yawn, looking like she owned the place. I took her to the vet that day, and now she’s sprawled on my couch, tuna breath and all.
Since then, I’ve filled SD cards with shots of strays—dogs like Pakudah, who still limps around the sari-sari store, wagging her tail for a scrap of SkyFlakes. These photos aren’t for likes or follows, though I’ll toss a few on Instagram for the rescue group. Late at night, when the city quiets down, I scroll through them. They’re like little time capsules of the lives I’ve crossed paths with.
SD CARDS:
Then there’s my other obsession: street food. Richard got me hooked on lumpia—those crispy, golden rolls that taste like home. I’ve used the A77 II to film my attempts at making them, grease popping in the pan, my kitchen smelling like fried garlic for days. The 1080p video mode isn’t 4K or anything, but it captures the sizzle and steam just fine. That flip-out screen is a godsend for getting low shots of food stalls at the palengke without crouching in fish water and looking like a total outsider. I’ve got a whole folder of market shots—piles of calamansi, fish glistening under bare bulbs, vendors yelling over each other. It’s chaos, and the A77 II just dives in like it was born for it.
Family, Weddings, and Rodimus Prime
It’s not just about strays and snacks, though. This camera’s been there for the big moments too. Few years back, my sister Shee got married, and I ended up as an unofficial photographer. She had a lot of other photographers but I was there too. Her husband Andre’s a car designer with a thing for clean lines and retro vibes—guy’s got a Rodimus Prime figure on his desk and quotes Transformers: The Movie like it’s scripture. And for him it is. I overheard him once muttering, “Light our darkest hour,” while trying to fix a jammed printer. I couldn’t resist sneaking that toy into a few wedding shots, perched on a table with the bouquet in the background. Got a big laugh at the reception.
The A77 II’s autofocus locked onto every moment—Shee’s shy smile as she walked down the aisle, Andre’s awkward-but-charming dance moves, the kids tearing around with sparklers as the sky turned purple. The colors came out rich, the details crisp, even in the dim banquet hall with its flickering fairy lights. I’m no pro, but those photos made my sister cry in a good way.
Travel Memories and Dawn Light
The A77 II hasn’t just stayed local—it’s been my travel buddy too. I brought it with me to Singapore, and it handled dawn light like a champ. There’s something magical about that soft, bluish glow before sunrise, and this camera somehow captures it without blowing out the highlights or drowning in noise. I remember standing outside Universal Studios, waiting for the gates to open, snapping shots of the Transformers ride entrance like a total fanboy. The colors popped, even in the low light, and the details on Optimus Prime’s armor looked crisp enough to touch.
Later, I took it to Kuala Lumpur, where I stayed near the Sunway Resort Hotel. It’s still around, by the way—fancy place, right next to the theme park and mall. But what stuck with me wasn’t the hotel—it was the stray cats lounging near the back alley, just behind the loading dock. I spent an hour crouched there, camera in hand, trying to get a shot of this orange tabby with one ear folded like a taco. The A77 II nailed it. Even in the shadows, the fur texture came through, and the eyes had that wild, wary glint.
And then there was the time I wandered into a small barbershop run by Pakistani barbers. They let me take a few portraits while they worked. These guys use oils I’d never seen before—thick, fragrant stuff that smells like eucalyptus and cloves. One of them rubbed it into a customer’s scalp with this rhythmic, almost meditative motion. I snapped a few shots with the A77 II, and the way it caught the sheen of oil on skin, the texture of the combs, the faded posters on the wall—it felt like I was documenting something timeless.
Why I’m Still Sticking With It
Look, I know newer cameras are out there. Sony’s mirrorless Alpha series, like the A7 IV, has better low-light performance and 4K video that’d make my lumpia clips look cinematic. You probably could see the old street vendor dropping it into oil then reusing said oil for Turon. But the A77 II still gets the job done. Light enough to sling over my shoulder without a second thought when I’m biking through Makati’s backstreets, dodging tricycles and stray dogs. The battery lasts longer than my phone ever will, which is more than I can say for some fancy mirrorless models I’ve tested. And it’s got this… vibe. The grip feels like it was made for my hand, and that shutter click? It’s like a secret handshake between old pals.
It’s no superhero. There’s a scratch on the LCD from that time I misjudged a mango cart’s turning radius at the market—my fault, not the camera’s. But somehow, it’s weathered dusty alleys, sudden downpours, and one very humid summer that had me sweating like I was in a sauna. I’ve even used it to shoot Andre’s car designs, catching the way chrome gleams under midday sun in a way that makes him grin like a kid unwrapping a new toy.
SD Cards:
The Verdict
You won’t see it turning heads at camera shops or topping gear reviews. But there’s soul in this thing. It’s been with me through quiet mornings tossing kibble to strays, loud family parties with too much Inasal, and late-night kitchen disasters that somehow turn into decent lumpia. It’s more than a camera—it’s like a memory keeper with a shutter button. A scrapbook of the things I love: animals, family, food, travel, and the small, messy moments that make life feel real.
I could upgrade. I’ve thought about it. But every time I pick up the A77 II, feel its familiar weight, and hear that shutter click, I think: nah. This one’s still got stories to tell.
This is dedicated to Richard, who we lost during COVID. He was more than a Sony hype man—he was my friend, my lumpia partner, and the guy who could quote anime like scripture. I’ll miss you, brother.
As Kenshin once said: “You can die anytime, but living takes true courage.” You lived with heart, humor, and loyalty. I’ll carry that with me.