-Well our big adventure started on the 6th April 2017 in New Zealand, and so we are now back for the final hurrah. Within 3 days of arriving back in Wellington we boarded our Air New Zealand flight for Nelson at the top of New Zealand’s South Island. From there a two-hour drive took us to the ultra-hippy yoga centre of Anahata in Takaka. The final 20-minute drive up into the Takaka hills, on a dirt road, opening and closing farm gates and crossing river fords made it clear how remote this place was going to be. Perched up on a promontory overlooking Golden Bay, Anahata Yoga Retreat is in a beautiful spot – bordering the Abel Tasman National Park and full of bird life, notably the flightless Weka of which a great number saunter through the grounds as though they own the place. Swami Karma Karuna, the retreat’s founder, welcomed us with a big hug and we were to quickly learn what an amazing person and great teacher she is. Far away from my perception of yoga Swamis as being kaftan clad, austere and serious, Karma Karuna has a laugh you can hear a mile off and is full of life experiences and, I strongly suspect, has a slightly naughty past. Our retreat was to last 7 days – an immersion into Hatha Yoga in which we started each day with asanas at 6am, followed by breakfast, theory, Karma yoga (in which you are required to mindfully help out with the gardening and cleaning – at least that is when you aren’t hiding in your room), yoga nidra (a deeply relaxing meditation lying on your back), lunch, more asanas and finally meditation. Dinner was vegetarian, like all meals, and coming from the retreat’s organic garden. I had the deepest possible relaxing sleep in this peaceful and energising place. An excellent week and one that I left feeling wonderfully chilled, with a desire to make yoga more part of my life – but definitely hanging out for a cold beer. We decided to stay on in Takaka township at our retreat end - being within a much easier reach of beer and other frowned upon comestibles. We checked into a cheap little Airbnb, Unicorn Gardens which is a slightly rambling small holding owned by a vibrant, earthy and spiritual English lady called Annabelle. We each availed ourselves of a healing massage – which involved our host communicating with the spirit world and chanting in some indecipherable tongue - in my case with St Raphael the healer. Well I enjoyed it . . . Takaka is full of weird and wonderful people – dreadlocked, deeply tanned and looking relaxed. From Takaka to Christchurch, the South Island’s largest city - still undergoing a major rebuilding programme following two devastating earthquakes, the last occurring in February 2011 and tragically causing the death of 185 people. Dom Bell, a larger than life Doctor who I knew when studying in Dunedin, was one of those to lose his life while working in a medical centre in one of the buildings to collapse. The CBD is starting to take shape into a modern, vibrant centre - however the hearts and minds of Christchurch people are still very much hurting. Our Christchurch sojourn was a great opportunity to catch up with old mates. Sandy and Neil, Bron, Andrew and Leanne and James and Helen. We swam in 32-degree heat at Taylors Mistake Beach, dined in one of the many new restaurants to pop up in the city centre, were entertained by the busking festival, drank wine (and beer – and more wine), lunched and chatted over coffee. When you catch up with very good friends its like the years melt away. Priceless . . . And so from Christchurch to the place we have arbitrarily decided will be the official “end” of our Big Adventure – Taupo, New Zealand’s largest lake situated pretty much smack bang in the middle of the North Island. My brother Andrew and his wife Dianne have taken over our parent’s holiday house in picturesque Acacia Bay. Andrew has been an amazing support during our time away – receiving our post and parcels and generally dealing with a range of unforeseen issues. New Zealand is in the middle of a heat wave and so our days have been hot with the sun beating down. The lake, normally frigid, has been a delight to swim in and Andrew took us in his boat to some brilliant swimming spots. The barbecue has been cranked up each night and we have cooked overlooking the lake with beers in hand. One more day until we board our final flight back to Wellington. And so – 296 days and 11 countries later . . . what have I learnt? Here are some thoughts – in no particular order:
• Say yes more often: It has been my year of saying yes and I have found myself doing and enjoying things that previously would have scared me. • You don’t need much stuff in life: For 10 months I have been with five t-shirts, two pairs of trousers, one pair of shoes and jandals, toiletries, a laptop, camera and a few other bits and pieces. 18kg tops. Being minimalist is liberating . . . • It feels great to feel calm: I set out to give yoga more of a go on our trip, and I now definitely feel a calmer person. I feel, notice things and listen better than I used to and my sleeps have improved. • Take your time when travelling: I enjoyed things more when we set down roots in a place, observed the local life and generally blended into to the neighbourhood. Tourism, for me, shouldn't be about “ticking” off sights and experiences . . . • Live your life like you are on holiday: I have been doing a lot of thinking about how I would transition back from travelling to life as “normal”. And I guess the conclusion I have come to is that I don’t have to. My aim is to try and incorporate the learnings from my travelling and to “be” in a better, calmer, more confident and simpler mode. Well I’ll see how it goes anyway . . . Jolanda - thank you for sharing the last 296 days with me. We have had our ups and downs – but we looked after each other, laughed lots and (I think anyway) learned a lot more about ourselves and each other. Long may our travel state of mind continue . . . !
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Well, New Year’s Day has come and gone. We are now at Ministro Pistarini International Airport in Buenos Airport about to our board our flight out of South America and on to New Zealand (but more on that later . . .) Admittedly we really only scratched the surface of this huge continent. Three countries in two months. However, for what it is worth, here are some reflections . . . Peru is seriously cool. I could have spent much longer there. On the downside I am not sure we ever really got used to the high altitudes – living at over 3km above sea level does affect your energy levels. Things that normally you take for granted, like popping to the shops for some provisions, often leaves you sucking for oxygen and in need of a jolly good sit down and a cuppa . . . And also, while we are on the downside, Lima does slightly suck. Big, dirty, unimaginative and without a soul. But there is so much more to Peru outside its capital city. Machu Picchu is just amazing and one of those places that actually does live up to its billing. We wandered around for almost a full day and could easily have come back for more the following morning. Cusco is laid back (well when you avoid the touristy Plaza de Armas it is) and a delight of cobbled streets, cafes serving fantastic food and nice people. Lake Titicaca is just, well beautiful and the drive there from Cusco takes you though some of the most spectacular mountain scenery I have ever encountered. Perhaps one important reason for Peru being our favourite South American destination is that it was here that we decided to join a tour. And not any old traditional tour, but one involving a group of just the nicest bunch of genuine, mindful yogi types you can possibly imagine. We saw Peru in such a relaxed and meaningful way – meditating on the top of Machu Picchu Mountain is an experience I will never forget. Neither will I easily forget the hugs, the laughs and the deep conversations about stuff that actually matters. From Peru to Argentina – and a big cultural shift for us. On the plus side, Buenos Aires is a hugely fun city. So much to see and do – tree lined streets, excellent museums and galleries and the San Telmo Sunday market just brilliant. But the prices of everything probably doubled from Peru – but not (in my view anyway) the quality of merchandise on offer or deliciousness of the food. Argentina has been in some serious financial strife for the last few years, and it shows – mainly in the demeanour of the people. The casual, laid-back friendliness of Peru is much harder to find – its almost like the people have been under the cosh for so long that a lot of the fun has gone out of their lives. And in Bariloche in the Lake District (our next destination after Buenos Aires) this pervasive malaise in the people almost seemed to increase. Bariloche has some stunning scenery – I think my favourite memory was swimming in a crystal clear lake at Llao Llao with a truly magnificent snow-capped mountain backdrop. But overall – it’s a strange kind of scene there. And that brings us to Chile where we went to just one place (Puerto Varas) for one week – but was so different from Argentina. The same beautiful mountain and lake scenery, but a quantum leap in terms the friendliness of the people. I would love to go back there one day . . . In keeping with our theme of flexible planning for this big adventure, Jolanda and I made the decision in mid December to head back to NZ with Viv on the 2nd January 2018. Yes we could have seen more of South America, but the lure of the early NZ summer beckoned and we thought – why not just continue our travels for a while longer back in the land of the Kiwi . . . ? And so after some discussion we decided to book an early January yoga retreat in Takaka at the very top of the South Island in New Zealand’s Golden Bay.
So its adios South America. Like any form of travelling its been a contrast of scenery and culture. We wouldn’t have missed it for the world . . . The trip from Bariloche in Argentina to Puerto Varas in Chile by boat is one of the most popular tourist activities in Patagonia. And so we decided that Jo and Viv would embark on this excursion while yours truly volunteered to drive the rental car round. The term boat trip is bit of misnomer, the travel actually involving 3 boat and 4 bus hops, essentially taking the most direct route across the lake region, altogether about 11 hours and covering just over 100km. My car trip, by comparison, took about 5 hours to cover 300kms as I wound my way around the lakes. Both trips were stunning in terms of the scenery – snow capped mountains, forests and lake vistas each seemingly more photgenic than the last. Just one of the world’s great journeys. The only slight blemish on our respect travel routes was our experience with the Argentinian and Chilean border controls. Leaving Argentina involves arriving at the border station, parking and entering a long building with many signs (none of them in English of course). Helpfully you are handed a form indicating two steps, the first being simply to hand over your passport upon which I received my first stamp indicating step one had been successfully completed. Step two was more confusing – I wandered over to another section and was called to a counter where I presented my passport again, along with various forms from the rental car company “allowing” me to take their cheap piece of junk across the border. I was greeted with a fast stream of Spanish until the official looked at my passport. “ALL BLACKS” he boomed. “PUMAS” I barked back, entering into the spirit of things. From then on things went very smoothly with lots of furious stamping and (helpfully) no further correspondence in Spanish until all was seemingly complete upon which I received a “GOOD MORNING” which fair shook the rafters and caused a number of curious looks from others in the queue. I drove off feeling quite pleased with myself only to discover, about 20km further down the road, an identical Chilean border control where the whole process was repeated . . . Well I am pleased to report our time in Chile made it all worthwhile. The town of Puerto Varas, also known as "La ciudad de las rosas" or “the city of roses”, is nestled on the shore of Chile’s second largest lake – Llanquihue. Our Airbnb is about 100m from the lakeshore, and just around the corner from some excellent restaurants. It’s been sunny but not exactly tropical in terms of temperature with an average of 15 degrees in what is supposed to be one of the hottest months. Having said that the lake foreshore has been full of local families taking in the sun and swimming – surprisingly the lake temperature is not so icy cold (not that I have yet taken the plunge). On the other side of the lake, and dominating the skyline, stand the snow capped peaks of Mt Tronador, Mt Calbuco (which spectacularly erupted in 2015) and the massive Orsono Volcano. Viv and I drove up the ski-field road on Orsono and were treated to dazzling views from the top. Being summer, we had the place virtually to ourselves – the ski lift was even started especially for us so we could gain a bit of height before wandering back down a specially prepared path. On our way back we visited the Petrohue waterfalls, a spectacular spot. Tomorrow we depart back to Argentina where we will spend Christmas day.
Interestingly when you Google “Bariloche and . . .” one of the instant fillers supplied by Google is “Nazis”. Over 9,000 high ranking third reich officers and collaborators reportedly fled to South America in 1945, and one of the favoured destinations was the picturesque lakeside town of Bariloche in Argentine’s northern Patagonian region. Bariloche earned the dubious distinction of being referred to as “The Third Reich Capital in Exile” and it was even rumoured that Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun had faked their deaths and lived out their remaining years in the Bariloche region. Bariloche, at first blush, is a chocolate boxy type town overlooking the beautiful Lake Nahuel Huapi and the snow capped Andes. It's two and and a half hours plane ride south-west from Buenos Aires, within spitting distance of the Chilean border. There are numerous large chalets behind large gates and fences with picture perfect gardens and the soft chug-chug sound of sprinkler systems. On closer inspection however there are cracks in the façade – unpaved streets are full of potholes and there is a general state of neglect, especially on the lake frontage. And that’s probably a good summation of Argentina at the moment – a nation that was once one of the world’s super powers but with an economy currently in a poor state. When the current President, Mauricio Macri was elected in December 2015, annual inflation was sitting at around 25 per cent and the fiscal deficit amounted to an alarming 6 per cent of the country’s GDP. Two years later the economic situation now seems to be improving - single digit inflation is within sight, on the back of hard hitting reforms including slashing subsidies, import tariffs and freeing up the currency. We are staying in a cute little Swiss style cottage with views (OK a glimpse) of the lake. When you book an Airbnb, or any kind of holiday rental, you are never totally sure of what you will end up with. Our place is certainly cutesy but it’s a fair way from the main centre, up a steep winding hill and without much obvious in the way of walking routes – unless you don’t mind dodging cars on unpaved roads with no pavements. Sounds a bit ungrateful, but hey – now that we have experienced a number of holiday rentals around the world, you end up being a bit choosy . . On our fourth day we ended up doing what we should have done on our first, that being to take the gondola ride up to Cerro Otto – 1400m above sea level. The views of the lakes and surrounding mountains are jaw dropping and its great to get an appreciation of the local geography. Reminded us all (and, I might add, some English tourists we met up top) of the views from the top of the Skyline Gondola in Queenstown. There is a revolving restaurant that offers exceptional and slowly changing views and we were quite happy sitting back and making our ten-dollar coffees last a good hour. In the winter this is a ski town, while in summer it’s all about enjoying the outdoors. We decided to head to Cerro Llao Loao on the western end of Lake Nahuel Huapi where there was reportedly some excellent trekking. Our start point differed from the majority of trekkers in that we headed straight to the ultimate swanko potsy Hotel Llao Llao for a pre-trek coffee. It’s a bit like a cross between the beautiful Blanket Bay Resort near Glenorchy and the Millbrook Resort in Arrowtown, both in the South Island of New Zealand. Lightly perspiring golfers were pulling up in their carts as we drove our cheap rental up to the main entrance. Everything about the place is beautiful – from the high wooden ceilings to the huge stone built fireplace to the panoramic views over the lakes and mountains. If we could have sold the rental we might have been able to stay a night . . . Oh and the trek was amazing – the sun shone brightly through the fir trees that lined our path and we started to see glimpses of the shimmering lake until we emerged onto a clearing with 180 degree views of the lake and mountains. Diving into those crystal clear (but very cold) waters was the ultimate respite from the heat of the day. Heaven . . . So Bariloche for me was really a place of contrasts - from opulent chalets to pot-holed dusty streets to not so friendly and welcoming people. But overshadowing everything is the nature, mountains, lakes, rivers and trees (lots of them) – and after all, this is really why most people come here . . .
When I read up on Buenos Aires in travel books and websites I was struck by the exuberant, yet slightly unhelpful nature of the descriptions. Lonely Planet, for instance, describes the city as combining “faded European grandeur with Latin passion. Sexy and alive, this beautiful city gets under your skin”. And from Madonna, in somewhat of a literary (or perhaps wacky baccy) state of mind: "Buenos Aires. I'm new, I wanna say I'm just a little stuck on you. And if ever I go too far, it's because of the things you are. Beautiful town, I love you." And it wasn’t until we arrived that I sort of got why so many had trouble describing the place . . . Buenos Aires is a city like no other I have experienced. Alongside rough and ready neighbourhoods tower grand old buildings, ornate and beautiful. Alongside barrios where tourists are warned against openly displaying cameras and backpacks lie streets full of designer and upmarket shops. And where you see chic young Argentinians sipping their morning lattes there will also be an endless stream of street sellers touting socks, paper tissues or simply after small change. Buenos Aires is home to around 17 million inhabitants – in fact one third of Argentinians live here which sort of leaves the rest of this huge country feeling a little empty. I was astounded to learn Buenos Aires is only ranked 81st in the world for quality of life. Well whoever gave it that rank must like manicured lawns, white picket fences and being in bed at 8pm with a warm cup of cocoa because seriously – this city rocks. Its hard to go out on the streets without the senses being assailed by something going on: whether it be massive protests in the Plaza del Mayo, tango dancing and music on the streets or fireworks being let off indiscriminately (and that was just during the last 3 days). One thing to remember for all those vegetarian/vegan/gluten free types out there - Buenos Aires is one big meat lovers dream. Argentinians apparently eat about 55kg of meat a year – well that’s according to www.therealargentina.com - which is about double what North Americans consume. Our little vegetarian party of three encountered some serious challenges searching for an elusive restaurant serving anything resembling vegetables. But hey presto we found the perfect place – for those planning a trip here, wanting to eat slightly healthy but also enjoy ambience, good beers and a lively atmosphere – look no further than Hierbabuena, Avenida Caseros 454. One person who has always fascinated me, but of whom I have to admit I knew relatively little about (aside from being able to belt out some tracks of the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical), is Eva Peron. From humble beginnings in rural Argentina Eva Duarte travelled to Buenos Aires in 1934 in search of fame and fortune as an actress. It turns out she was moderately successful in her acting career, which may have continued had she not met and married Colonel Juan Peron who would become President of Argentine in 1946. And this is where the extraordinary story really takes off as, with no official Government position and within six years, Eva Peron was instrumental in winning Argentinian women the right to vote, acted as the defacto Minister of Health and Labour and founded the Eva Peron Foundation which helped establish thousands of hospitals, schools, orphanages and homes for the aged. When she died of cancer at the age of 33 (incidentally she was apparently the first Argentinian to undergo Chemotherapy), the people’s grief was almost overwhelming. Flowers were sold out in the whole of Argentina – reminiscent of the passing of Diana, Princess of Wales. She was loved by the poor and working and class and is still referred to as the Spiritual Leader of the Nation. Quite a lady . . . It was natural therefore that part of our Buenos experience would somehow involve Eva – and so it was with a visit to the Eva Peron museum and the Recoletta Cemetery. The latter was quite an experience, the Recolleta Cemetery being a surreal maze of over 6,000 mausoleums – most with ornate frontages and glass doors behind which stood anything from one to half a dozen coffins. Viv and I elected not to take a tour, where we would undoubtedly have learnt more than we would ever want to know about notable Argentinian internees, and instead headed straight for most photographed tomb of Eva Peron. I am pleased to say we added to the photography statistics. The Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires “Malba” was a real highlight. Some quite outstanding art (in my humble view anyway) from twentieth century Latin American artists such as Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo. The whole collection is quite manageable (a far cry from the Sistine Chapel in Florence where I mainly remember the hunt for the Uscita/Exit) and blissfully the beautifully designed gallery is air-conditioned. My other highlight was our visit to La Boca – home to a strongly working class population and, most importantly, La Boca Juniors, who incidentally are currently sitting top of the Argentine First Division. Caminito, a small pedestrian alley, is a haven for artists, restaurants and the tango. The art is seriously good – not your usual tourist tat – and we just loved sipping our coffee watching some beautiful, if slightly erotic, tango dancing. So now its hasta luego Buenos Aires – yep it’s been great . . .
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 . . . 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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