Most tourists travelling to Machu Picchu from Cusco would take the train direct to Aguas Calientes which takes about three and quarter hours. But no – not our adventurous crew . . . Instead we decided to take an alternative route – by minibus up and down mountainous roads with at least 3 million turns, ending up in the spa town of Santa Teresa about eight hours later. But of course with everything on our hippy happy tour, there were so many plus points. The views of the mountains and valleys with fast flowing crystal clear rivers were amazing. We may crow about our mountain scenery in New Zealand, but this was something out of this world. The other advantage of taking our alternative route was we were able to visit our second school – this time with younger kids aged from about three through to eight. We played games in the courtyard and then went into the classroom to distribute some gifts and supplies for the school. We asked the head-teacher what they really needed for next time, and to think big. Tactile stuff such as plasticine and play dough is important, as is some furniture – simple things like shelves and cupboards to store supplies. In other words stuff we just take for granted in our western society . . . One huge benefit of arriving in Santa Teresa travel worn, dirty and tired is you get to relax in some glorious natural hot springs. There are three pools in the complex – ranging from nice and warm to toasty hot, all with views of the mountains and valley. I was unfortunately spotted by an eagle-eyed pool attendant who ordered me to first have a shower in, what I discovered, was freezing cold water. I was obviously rated as someone who might get out of this requirement at the earliest opportunity and so she stayed and watched until I was almost blue. Man those hot springs felt good after that . . . Our travel from Santa Teresa to Machu Picchu the next morning was easy peasy. A short train ride (with our group sitting a little self consciously alone in a first class carriage followed by half of Peru crammed into three local cars behind), and then a 20 minute shuttle bus from the town of Aguas Calientes up the hill to one of the seven wonders of the world – the almighty Machu Picchu. Machu Picchu was built by the Incas in the fifteenth century and then abandoned about a century later at the time of the Spanish conquest. It is located in such a remote and inaccessible area (well it was before tourists came) that amazingly the Spaniards never came across it during their rapacious occupation. The history books will tell you that the American Hiram Bingham bought it to the world’s attention in 1911. However the site was always well known to the local people – in fact My Bingham only chanced upon it after being brought there by some local kids who had been using it as their playground. Again, never wanting to do things the easy way, our intrepid group decided to start the day by climbing Machu Picchu mountain which soars 650m above the ancient city. OMG was that a tough climb. Compared to New Zealand hill treks which tend to make use of switchbacks (and hence providing some welcome respite to catch your breath), this mountain walk just goes straight up in a series of steps which seem never-ending. For about two thirds of the climb I gamely kept up with my three fit (and younger I might add) companions: Michael of the long legs, Jenna our yogi will-o-the-whisp and Jeremy the fitness trainer – need I say more . . . I finally made some lame excuse, waited until they had disappeared around the next corner and then collapsed panting for what seemed like an hour but in fact was only five minutes. Yep that was a good lesson on the ego for me! 'It wasn’t the views from the top that made the climb worthwhile for me, but the half hour or so of silent meditation – after we had caught our breath of course. Imagine sitting on top of the world in your own silent cocoon, focusing on your breath and then finally opening your eyes and taking in the panorama before you. Its amazing how you can see colours and landscapes differently and in so much more detail . . . The afternoon was spent being escorted around the ancient Machu Picchu city by our guide Marita, and as usual her local perspective was invaluable. These Incans sure knew how to get a primo spot to build a city. If you had an Airbnb with these kind of views you could charge whatever you wanted . . . The only negative about the place (and this does seem a little petty) was the commercialisation – and that goes also for the local town of Aguas Calientes. Everything was at least double or triple the price of elsewhere in Peru and the bars and restaurants felt as if they had been designed specifically for rich tourists – it was hard to spot where the local people hung out.
And so with our return from Machu Picchu to Cusco, so ended our Peru Yogaporvida adventure. If I had to sum things up, it was a trip of connections. Connecting with the land, its people and culture and, of course, our travelling companions. It’s not often that I click so immediately with so many people. Jenna, Michael, Scott, Denise, Jeremy, Melvin, Tatiana and Marita – thank you for your company, your laughs, your help and your hippy yogi ways. It was never dull and there was always someone to talk to and share. I miss you all already . . . Namaste and hasta luego . . .
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I have to say group tours leave me a little cold – its often a bit like “ticking” off touristy must-dos, getting on and off buses, being deposited at shops full of the usual tourist tat and mixing with people who actually like that sort of stuff … Having said that, neither of us had experience in Peru and so devoting one week out of our four to an organised tour seemed like a good idea. We decided to join a yoga themed experience of Peru organised by Jenna Jasso, an Austin Texas based yogi – and what a great decision it turned out to be. With 8 other like-minded people and our Peruvian guide Marita we are connecting with this country and people in a way we could never have done on our own. The group met on Saturday 18th in Cusco and within a few hours it was like we were family. From Canada; Melvin with an energy to just hike and keep on going, from Colombia; Tatiana on a 3 week break from her job but missing her Mum already, from the US; Denise from Louisiana with a smile that would stop traffic, Jeremy the nutritionist who insists on doing handstands in the most unlikely places, Michael with his own yoga and meditation business and a presence that lights up a room, Scott the chief dispenser of bear like hugs and the amazing Jenna, the group leader and organiser, founder of Yogaporvida and the absolute yogi bear of yogis. Last but definitely not least, the incomparable Marita – formerly from Cusco but now living in Puno. With energy to burn and a wicked sense of humour, Marita gave us heart-felt insights on her country and culture that I will never forget. On our second day we departed Cusco by mini bus and 12 hours later arrived in Puno on the shores of Lake Titicaca. It wasn’t all driving – there were stops to try the local bread made by a lady resplendent in a top hat, visit the ancient Inca ruins at Raqchi, photograph the amazing mountain scenery at 4400m (the highest point of the journey where even Jeremy struggled to do his handstands) and visit a museum on Incan history which appeared closed for the day but was subsequently opened by a flustered looking man summoned by Marita from a few houses up in the village. We arrived in Puno in the dark but woke to the view of Lake Titicaca – the world’s highest navigable stretch of water straddling the border between Peru and Bolivia. We loaded ourselves onto our own private boat (very posh I know) and steamed off to our first stop – the strange but fascinating floating reed islands just a few hundred metres from Puno harbour. We landed on one of the islands and were treated to a fascinating account of island building and culture by the island’s President. Around 20 voting citizens live on the tiny and slightly damp mass of closely packed reeds – their income seemingly coming mainly from tourism judging by the masses of woven blankets and other trinkets for sale. It was fun but not, I felt, terribly authentic. But authenticity was definitely to come at our final destination - the island of Amantaní. Amantaní is an isolated island – a decent 3.5 hours boat trip from Puno (although apparently you can do it in an hour in an emergency) with a population of about 4,000. Traditionally strongly agricultural based, the economy has been bolstered in recent years from tourism. There are no hotels, backpackers or hostels – instead you stay with host families. Ours put us up in their best rooms – we weren’t sure where the couple and their five kids slept …. Dinner was made by the family in the most basic of kitchens - by our western standards anyway. The following morning we had the option of getting up at 4am and making a strenuous climb to the top of island. Well hello …! Jo and I stayed quiet and hidden in our room. We were sitting at the breakfast table stuffing ourselves when our weary companions arrived back some five hours after their departure. Apparently the experience at the top of the island was amazing – at least that’s what I think I heard over my noisy chomping of a particularly crunchy piece of toast and jam … We visited the local school to play with the kids and to distribute much needed donations in the form of books, pens and even toys. It was a humbling and profound experience for me. These kids come from families with very little in terms of material possessions, but their outlook on life and their sheer joy at participating in the games was infectious. Just a “wow” moment … The return on the boat to Puno saw us arriving at the city in the dark. Sitting on top of the boat watching the sun set over this beautiful and peaceful Lake was just something out of this world.
Surely the rest of the tour can’t get any better than this? It was a 120km and 600m ascent from Ollantaytambo to Cusco, which means we are now at 3,400m above sea level. As a comparative - New Zealand’s highest ski resort Turoa and Europe’s highest ski resort Val Thorens both sit at around 2,300m. So here we are sightseeing, eating and sleeping at above the level of the highest ski lifts of either of those two resorts. The altitude – headaches in the morning and a general feeling of lethargy, has affected us both but on our third morning here we are definitely improved. The key is to rest, hydrate, avoid alcohol (I know!) and drink the local coca tea. Cusco, once of the capital of the Incan empire, is a busy little city with a population of around 400,000. In the historical centre where we are staying you could be forgiven for thinking the economy is in pretty good shape. There are signs of affluence in many of the restaurants, shops and buildings – and the place is full of tourists. But in reality there is much poverty. Which brings the amazing Jolanda van den Berg into the story. 21 years ago Jolanda came to Peru with no Spanish and little money but a desire to do something for the many children she had seen working and begging on the street during a trip to Cusco six months previously. We met and chatted with Jolanda at Cusco’s Niños Hotel, one that she had started for the benefit of the kids. She started in 1996 by renting a small room and offered two of the children, who roamed the Plaza de Armas, the opportunity to come and live with her. The condition was they stuck to the rules, which included daily chores. Two boys quickly became 12 in a five-bedroom house with one toilet and shower for everyone plus limited running water. Funding initially came from family and friends in the Netherlands but it was never going to be enough. And so with little knowledge of the hospitality industry, Jolanda and her partner hit on the idea of starting a hotel – the objective being to become financially independent and for the boys to learn a trade. Out of the blue one large Dutch sponsor provided the funding and the Niños Hotel Meloc became a reality in 1998. That is where we are now staying and it is just the cosiest little hotel I think I have ever stayed in. There are no room numbers; instead all the rooms are named after the boys. The program now looks after 600 children, incidentally not all of whom are homeless. Many rural families aren’t able to find decent education in their home villages and so they send their kids to Cusco in hopes of a better life. Many kids live together in these arrangements, receiving some financial support from their families but often supporting themselves through enterprises such as shoe shining and selling cards to tourists. The program feeds them three meals a day, six days a week. It provides shower facilities, medical and dental treatment and also sport – all aimed at not only keeping them healthy and well fed but raising their self-esteem.
Jolanda van den Berg is just a gorgeous bundle of vibrant energy. She has the most sparkling eyes and if she has any regrets about her life over the last 21 years they are very well hidden. I think I’m a little bit in love (purely platonically of course!). Her philosophy is that “there are no victims here”. She treats her relationship with the kids as a partnership – she gets just as much out of it as they do. The way you give is important. “giving has to be useful in the eyes of those who are receiving”, rather than satisfying ones well-meaning ego. That in turn has led her to continue to expand the hotel business (there are now three) and thereby rely less on sponsors, so many of whom want to be recognised and associated with a particular “gift”. Jolanda says she doesn’t need more refrigerators – it’s the money that is needed, given selflessly with no attachment. If anyone is looking for somewhere very special to stay in Cusco, come to the Niño’s Hotel Meloc – it may just change your life . . . ! It was with some excitement that we landed in Peru on Wednesday November 8th, 216 days after leaving Wellington on our big adventure. Travelling to South America has been a dream of Jolanda’s for a long time and so it was natural that this massive continent would figure in our itinerary at some stage. It has to be said that Lima, our first stop, was a little bit of an anticlimax. We knew from our research that this would not be one of the world’s most beautiful cities but we were unprepared for the sprawl of smog-drenched dreariness that is Lima. Our one bright spot was somewhat of a surprise for us having discovered that New Zealand was playing Peru in a world cup qualifying football match on our second night. Man do those Peruvians love their football. Just about everyone in the city centre was sporting Peruvian colours, screens were set up in Kennedy Park (worth a visit by the way to see the 100 plus homeless cats protected by the local council), and the bars were heaving. We were interviewed by a local TV channel while walking towards a lively looking place for a beer – I think they were amazed to find out we were Kiwis. Nil all was the result by the way. The second leg is being played in Lima in a couple of day’s time which will be an absolute hum-dinger . . . The journey from Lima to Ollantaytambo in the Sacred Valley was torturous, not through any fault of the transport logistics but when you have a stomach upset I wouldn’t recommend a cab ride through smoggy Lima, being bounced around in the plane over the Andes to Cusco and then another 90 minutes of taxi driving on pot holed Peruvian roads to anyone. Jolanda wasn’t feeling a hundred-per cent either and so we were a couple of sick and grumpy so-and-sos when we finally checked in to our little hotel in Ollantaytambo We felt marginally improved the next day but by the day after we were definitely back on our feet and ready to do justice to this little town set on the Urubamba River amid snow capped mountains (well they are snow capped in the winter). And what a majestic, beautiful and cosy place it is. The place is dominated by two sets of impressive Inca ruins, one of which, the “Fortress”, we explored for an entire morning. The story goes that the Spanish conquistadores suffered one of their rare defeats here, and when you experience the fortress at first hand its not hard to see why. A series of massive terraces leads up the mountain with fortifications at the top, from which the Spanish apparently suffered a deluge of arrows when they tried to attack. As if that wasn’t enough, the Incas then flooded the valley by way of a pre-prepared trap from which the Spanish had to beat a hasty retreat. The Incas should be admired not only for their building genius and their ability to flood valleys at will, but also for the way that they somehow transported so many massive masonry blocks up the steep mountain face. One wall of the temple of the sun still remains – six huge blocks, each weighing over fifty tonnes, and fitted together with not so much as a paper-thin crack. Fifty tonnes! My Toyota SUV weighs 1.5 tonnes (Ok I had to look that up) – so that’s the equivalent of dragging thirty-three of those beasts five hundred metres up a steep rocky hillside. Impressive . . . Ollantaytambo is a cute little village, full of narrow cobbled windy streets and stone constructed buildings. On the one hand its very touristy, with buses and trains leaving for Machu Pichu in the morning and returning in the late afternoon, but between those times it’s a lot quieter and more mellow. Everyone sells the quintessential lama wool hats, ponchos and blankets but the stallholders aren’t pushy at all – leaving one blissfully free to browse at leisure. The fruit and vegetable market is more for the locals and is a photographer’s paradise. Ollantaytambo definitely ranks among my most favourite places to visit. If you are visiting Peru, stop here for a while – you wont regret it . . .
From June to early November this year Jolanda and I have been based in The Hague, on the western coast of the Netherlands. From here we have travelled within Europe – to Scotland, Ibiza, Portugal and Spain. And of course we have visited friends and relatives within the Netherlands. But so far in these blogs we haven’t properly talked about our home base – the Hague.
The Dutchies have opinions about most things – such as tourists on bikes in Amsterdam (hated), queuing (ditto) and beating the Germans at football. In terms of The Hague, its inhabitants are generally thought of as being slightly toffee nosed. Like anywhere, the city is home to all types. People from Surinam (a former Dutch Colony), Morocco, Turkey, Poland, France, New Zealand (ta da) and various other ethnicities from just about everywhere. There is a large expat community – with even an “Expats in The Hague” newspaper, expat focused real estate agents and a large (and vocal) Hague expats facebook group. The Dutchies of course are in the majority and you can usually spot them by way of their bike riding skills. If you see someone signalling their intention to turn left or right, gripping the handlebars with both hands, wearing a helmet or generally obeying the road rules – they definitely AREN’T Dutch. Dutch people are raised from an early age to ride bikes and they do so with consummate ease and panache. I do have to say though, at the risk of sounding like a fuddy-duddy, I’m really not at ease with the not wearing helmets thing – particularly when you see a Mum or Dad biking in heavy traffic with toddlers in front and at the back and not a helmet in sight. Nah that isn’t right . . . Jo and I have been based in the Statenkwartier, generally thought of as one of the more toffee nosed of the wider toffee nosed Hague. I love the area. Its close to the sea and the working harbour, enjoys many parks and dunes and has great shopping – a wander up the Frederik Hendriklaan on a sunny Saturday is just a whole lot of fun. There is actually a real mix of types – from your doctors, dentists and lawyers to the more working class back streets. Years ago the area was strongly focused on the sea where many earned their living from fishing or from the busy docks. One of my highlights was riding our bikes in the dunes along the dedicated bike paths to some spot where we would clamber down to the beach and have a coffee or beer (yes ok it was usually a beer) in one of the beach tents. The beach tent idea is very cool and a big logistical exercise as dozens of substantial looking bars and restaurants are constructed for the summer season and then simply taken away again in around October time when the cold starts to set in. In the summer weekends they are packed and it’s quite a business getting served sometimes. Like most places on our big adventure, art has figured highly. The Dutch have a system whereby locals can buy a museum card for next to nothing – and with that you get free access to just about every museum and art gallery in the country. We borrowed cards from Jolanda’s sister Carole and her husband Frits. We saw some fabulous exhibitions in the Gemeentemuseum (Mondrian and Anton Heyboer) and the Museum Beelden aan Zee in Scheveningen. I think my favourite was a photo exhibition by Tadao Cern in Panorama Mesdag, which featured a series of people lying on the beach in all their “imperfectness” – blissfully unaware of the camera. If anyone is visiting the Netherlands, maybe don’t confine your visit just to Amsterdam. Check out The Hague – a cool little city with a great feel, fabulous art, a diverse and friendly population and miles of beach.
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Richard and JolandaJo and I have decided to give up our work, our house and our lives in Wellington NZ to see the world. Our big adventure started on April 6th 2017 . . . Archives
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