Reflections

“One of the gladdest moments of human life, methinks, is the departure upon a distant journey into unknown lands. Shaking off with one mighty effort the fetters of habit, the leaden weight of routine, the cloak of many cares and the slavery of home, man feels once more happy.” – Richard Burton

So. We have been home for one month. After the euphoria of completing our round-the-world trip and arriving back on familiar territory had worn off, by the end of the first week, we went into free-fall and landed firmly on our backsides.

More than one month on and we realise that, contrary to our beliefs, few people have a real  interest in where we went, what we saw or did. Our trip, our passions, joys, strife, experiences and journey were ours, and whilst we were happy to share them, the only people they really affected was us. Life changing and worldly lessons were ours and ours alone. Personal development, broader minds and a greater understanding of humanity and life are not for everyone, I guess.

Arriving home it felt like nothing had changed: but on the other hand,  everything had. On reflection, it’s us that has changed – and how could we fail to have done so, after we had upped anchor and set sail for 7 months in unchartered waters?
Profound and lasting insights into other cultures and people’s way of life cannot be erased from our memories and neither do we want them to be. We share a common thread of humanity with the people we met all over the world; yet there are huge differences too, such as the glaring poverty and the impact of a massively strong faith. We all have the same basic needs and desires for ourselves, our children and our families, but we go about it in very different ways and what’s important to my English neighbour is not necessarily what’s important to my Indian or African neighbours. But we all share the same planet, bask in the warmth and energy of the same sun and sleep under the same sky, watching the same moon.
Having been out and about at home, we miss the cheery greetings called out to us as we passed people in the streets of Arusha and the genuine warmth of welcome offered everywhere we went. People here generally seem pre-occupied, avoid eye contact and keep their heads down. We have become a very insular society as a result, largely, I believe, of technology and social media. In those countries where technology is not prevalent, people seem happier and have an  engaging mindset. Children at the orphanage did not need to be shown how to play with each other, as some children here do.  They are not wrapped in cotton wool and their physical skills and self sufficiency would put our children to shame.
Us? We feel lost. A feeling of disconnection is quite strong, but there is also a part of us that is hanging on to our experience and our lessons because we definitely do not want to lose all that we have gained and be propelled head first into the rut that we hoisted ourselves out of all those months ago. That is not going to happen. Period.
So, what next. We are now wearing our fund raising hats and will be shaking that proverbial tin and rattling the metaphorical buckets under people’s noses for money to help improve the future lives of the children we met, whose names we know – Riter, Ester, Barakiel and Kishu to name a few – the children who are the personal faces of the thousands of children in Africa (and around the world) who deserve a better future.
Long term, we don’t yet know. There are lots of things for us to consider. But for now, we need to re-group, re-evaluate and look forward so that our passion and the next dream can take us onward. Having truly lived every day of this journey with motivation and excitement, we refuse to let go of the joie de vivre to return to a humdrum life where ‘things’, pettiness, greed, judgement and things that, in the great scheme of things, really don’t matter get in the way. Life matters and every day counts. Live it before its too late, because one day it will be. In the words of Edith Piaf, “Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien”.

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” – Steve Jobs

African Dream 2

We visited the family homes of a few of the children we had been working with in the orphanage. As gifts, we took bags of rice, flour, sugar and cooking oil because these were what was most needed. The first house looked, from the outside, and to our western eyes, reasonable. The inhabitants were two young children, cousins, raised by the mother of one of the girls as the other mum neglected her daughter from 5 months old so her aunt raises her. The owner of the house said she could stay there whilst he was away, so she could be made homeless any time – when he chooses to return. She spends every day from dawn to dusk at the local market, taking the girls with her during holiday times, sitting by the roadside trying to sell the vegetables she has grown. She constantly worries about how she’s going to feed her family – she also has an 18 year old son – and most days they only have one meal, Ugali. Rice and beans are a luxury. When we went inside her home it was a real shock. It was one room, part of it curtained off which was where they all slept. The main part of the room housed a wooden crate, containing 3 chickens and a rooster, as well as an old wooden framed sofa and chair. In the corner was a very old and dirty paraffin camping-type stove and a saucepan. The floor was concrete. There were no home comforts or frills of any kind. It was dirty.
This woman was doing her very best, working all the hours God sends just to keep a roof over their heads and food in their mouths – just. But she did not complain, or moan about how tough life was, or ask ‘why me/us?’ She thanks God for what she does have, and praises Him for His goodness. This is true for so many people we met – they have nothing (in comparative terms) but have the biggest smiles and most generous hearts of any other race we have encountered. They also know how to enjoy themselves; they know that poverty will not be gone tomorrow, that it is today that matters and that they are alive and God will provide. It is their strong belief and faith, displayed openly, that carries these people through each day and confirms to us that in order to be truly happy, as they are, appreciation is key as is living in the now – you do not need to have ‘things’ and tomorrow is another day. In fact, the less you have, the happier you are. They know that happiness comes from within, from that place where God resides, but which so few people know. We learned so much and take home with us a greater understanding and richness than we ever could give to them. It is ironic that it was originally Missionaries from England who took Christianity to Africa, yet they are the ones that now have the spiritual richness that we in the West lack. Ask yourself who has the greater happiness. It’s not us.

Manyara, Tarangire, Serengeti, Ngorongoro Crater and Mikumi are all National Parks which we have been fortunate enough to visit. Seeing the vast plains of the Serengeti, serenely at sunrise from a hot air balloon was magical, especially as the animals were on the move after the dangers of the night had passed. The natural beauty of these incredible places, together with the pleasure of watching many of the world’s most well known and loved animals roaming freely was very special; learning about their strategies for survival and seeing these in action was mind blowing. For several wonderful days we became as natural as that which surrounded us; limitless space, a freedom to wander, just ‘to be’. Nothing stood between us – we were all as one. The connection and realisation of our ‘one-ness’ was a strong feeling and reaffirmed our beliefs that we are all carved by the same hand. Life is not a finite entity – we return from whence we came at the end of our days and blow as gently as the soft breeze on a summer’s day, until the next time our souls are called purposefully forward, to begin our next journey.

We travelled south from Arusha to Ifakara where the landscape is very different. Rich red dust/sand/soil, lush green vegetation, agricultural land, rivers with water in them and mountain ranges en route. Here we saw some great projects that have been started by a young man who was sponsored through school and University and who is now putting back into his local community, in conjunction with a charity based in the UK run by the man who sponsored him. He and his board are empowering young women who are very often the victims of circumstance and find themselves on their own with several children, fighting for survival, after the men have abandoned them because of the stresses of life and poverty. Young women from villages who did not receive an education are being taught how to use a sewing machine and make clothes so that, following a years worth of training, they can begin their own small business. Electricity poles have been bought and erected to extend the electric supply further into the village and provide light in the community hall/library – used by students so they can study each evening  in one place and share the power.  A tractor is available for hire, the money from which will be used to pay school fees, as will the sale of harvested rice, reducing the reliance on sponsors. Vitally, the final project in place currently is the installation of a water pump in the village. There is always water available at the pump, which is a huge relief for all the villagers. Becoming self sufficient is crucial for the future and with educated people like this, who are now putting back into the community this is becoming a real possibility for the future.

And so we left the mainland for the tropical paradise that is Zanzibar. The island has a rich history encompassing, amongst other things, the slave market and the spice route. Many spices are grown on the island and exported around the world. To see the nutmeg nut hugged tightly by the mace within the fruit from the nutmeg tree and the bark from the cinnamon tree rolled into a cinnamon stick, in situ, was pretty amazing.

Our reflection, rest and relaxation week is now drawing to a close, as is the trip we spent so long dreaming about, planning and then living. Life has been day after day of new experiences, cultures, challenges, beauty, wonderment, and many other things besides. We have been truly blessed on our travels: with good health, fabulous people, seamless travel arrangements and sunshine wherever we have been. God’s angels have kept us safe and have provided us with an insight into ourselves that we were unaware of. Pushing through boundaries, extending our comfort zones, really living life to the full with excitement, purpose and eagerness each day has given us a new zest for life. Settling back down will not be easy, but we return with a renewed sense of purpose and are determined not to crawl back into any ruts. And who knows? One day, we might just do it all again.

African Dream

Landing at Kilimanjaro airport was the realisation of a long standing dream: going to Africa. Here we were, standing on the tarmac of the smallest international airport I’ve ever been to, with the biggest smiles! We were ushered into the tiny terminal and asked to complete our visa application forms and join the queue, which we did quite quickly. Immigration and Visa staff were smiling, jovial and very welcoming, a foretaste of things to come. Things could have got a little sticky when I inadvertently handed over my husband’s passport with my visa application: the man looked down at the passport and said “this isn’t you”. My heart missed a beat until he continued with “it’s his!” The desk mounted camera took our photos for the visa and I was urged to smile, unlike in Britain where any official pictorial documentation requires a neutral expression. Formalities over, we stepped outside and revelled in the hot, but oh so fresh, sunshine before finding ourselves a taxi to drive us the 40 minute journey to our tranquil haven, where we could unwind and relax for a whole week. Complete bliss, after the previous destination.

Our first experiences of Tanzanian people were the staff at the lodge where we were staying. Such welcoming people; smiles and genuine warmth radiated from them all – from Beatrice who did the housekeeping to Baracka our restaurant host and Maria, the manager. Nothing was too much trouble for anyone and, whilst they offered quite a few cultural and local trips, providing a local guide and transport, we chose mainly to ‘just chill’. That said, we took a taxi into the nearest town, Arusha, a couple of afternoons and also visited the local women’s market at Tengeru, a few minutes up the road. This was the biggest, most colourful and most chaotic market I think I’ve been to, and we were glad that Eric, our driver, escorted us through and around it. Whilst we were at Tengeru we also made a visit to the site of a former Polish refugee camp, where my mother-in-law lived as a young girl during WWII. It is now a cemetery, lovingly looked after by a local African man, whose father had been the camp superintendent and who had himself tended the graves of the Polish ex-refugees, who chose to settle in Tanzania after the war. It was quite an emotional visit.

Our first few days in Tanzania brought us many sights and sounds that were stereotypically African – and we loved them. Waking up to the sound of gospel singing from the pentecostal ‘church’ across from our lodge, the girls walking along dusty roads from school, with very white socks and long skirts, the mothers with their babies, tied in a kind of sling, on their backs, women carrying phenomenal loads on their heads with very little effort and the men sitting in the shade under the tree, putting the world to rights. The banana market was held regularly just behind our accomodation and we could hear the early morning chatter as the sellers prepared their space and arranged their goods. People arise early in Tanzania and have many of their chores done before the hot sun is too high in the sky. They have a great cleaning ethic and, even though there is so much dust, you will find them, every morning, sweeping outside – either on the front steps, the yard, or the little piece of ground outside the house/shack /shop, and then the steps and yard get a good wipe over with soapy water and a cloth. This regular sight is seen everywhere, with all the women bending  from their hips – knees don’t come into it!

Dust. So much dust. If there’s one thing we will never forget about our time here, it’s the dust. It rises from the ground in great clouds as vehicles pass by and hangs in the air, like unspoken words. Walking through it off the main roads, it clings to your clothes as a distressed child clings to its mother. It gets everywhere, especially one imagines, on the chests and in the lungs of the residents, who do not have the luxury of masks like the Japanese. In some places they throw precious water on the ground in an effort to damp it down  – but this only gives temporary relief. When the rains come – the short ones in Oct/Nov and the long ones in March/April and May – the dust turns to mud and makes roads in some places impassable.  But once the rains stop the dust takes a few weeks to recover to its ubiquitous ways. I guess you learn to live with it.

At the end of our first week, we were collected from our accomodation by staff from the volunteer organisation we would be working with, for the next three weeks.I was apprehensive about where we would be staying – we knew it was a home stay and not the organisations volunteer houses – but would it have electricity, running water… my mind had started running a little wild! But, if there’s one thing I have learned on this trip, it’s that everything is always ok in the end, and any worry or anxiety beforehand was unnecessary. Hakuna Matata – don’t worry, be happy! Again this was the case, and once we had opened the gate and I saw the house, I knew all would be well. And it was. We shared our home for 3 weeks with 6 or 7 other volunteers from around the world and were wonderfully looked after and catered for by our house Mama.

Our first day volunteering was spent at ‘orientation’, filling in forms, getting our work visa organised and gathering general information we needed to know to, amongst other things, keep ourselves safe. The volunteer organisation were excellent in making themselves available to everyone, at all times and offering support, advice and help if necessary. At the end of the session, they took around 50 of us into town to show us the places we would need, like ATMs and phone shops. Returning home was our first experience, of many, on the daladala – the local buses. Well, like an isolation ward, this needs a whole section on its own!

The daladalas (pronounced dollar dollar) are mini buses with 15 seats. 15 passengers maximum then? Absolutely not: maybe 18, maybe 16 and a goat, maybe 17 and large baskets of bananas, potatoes or tomatoes! As you might imagine, there is no room between passengers; there are 4 seats on the back row so 4 people WILL sit there, regardless of size. We got to know some people extremely well! If you are in the back corner on a full daladala and need to get off, half the other passengers also have to alight to enable you to get out. Standing room only passengers have to stand in the daladala entrance, bent pretty much in half! The fare is cheap though 😉 We caught the bus to our placement from opposite Mama’s – there’s no timetable or designated stops, they come along frequently – and it was always full-ish when we got on. The first few days when we weren’t sure of where to get off we were looking for landmarks, but it was difficult to see through the windows – through all the people and with the window stickers proclaiming things like: God is Great, or Arsenal!

The ‘conductor’ hangs out of the window of the sliding door, looking for passengers and banging on the side or roof of the vehicle when someone wants to get on or off. He also collects the money, loads and unloads people’s baskets/children/animals and unhooks mattresses, cushions or larger items people have brought from the market, which have spent the journey hanging from the back of the vehicle, gathering dust on the way!

If we were going into Arusha town, which we did quite a lot, we caught the daladala to and from the bus station at Kilambero. It’s hard to know how to describe this place really!The bus station is a huge, open, sandy/dusty area on the corner of two roads. As the dala dala pulls in to the area, many others are also pulling in at the same time. Once it stops it’s time to jump out – but beware of the vehicles, people, carts, barrows that are also in the same space. There is a huge market opposite the station, so many people are coming from, or going, there,  either with their purchases or with their wares to sell, or taking them back home at the end of the day. There are no bus stands, or indications where you should catch the daladala going to the area you want. We discovered where the daladalas grouped that were going where we were staying so headed there, then all the conductors are touting for business (they are very competitive), so are asking the area you want, then either pointing you in the right direction or encouraging you onto their daladala. If you want a seat and don’t mind waiting then get on one further back, but if you’re in a hurry (haha!, no-one’s in a hurry here – ‘Africa time’ is great, but another story!) then get on one at the front, as he’s heading out of the entrance just as soon as there is space for him in the line up! Please don’t think for one minute that there’s any order here – it’s completely chaotic, and noisy – as hundreds of drivers and conductors are blowung their horns and shouting their destinations and warning off their competitors at the same time. And just outside the entrance, women sit on the dry, dusty ground, chatting, dusting off their tomatoes and onions with their beautiful bright khanga’s and arranging them in lots of small, neat pyramids to attract your custom.

After a day of orientation, completing regulation administration and learning the do’s and don’ts of living in Arusha, we were ready for action. Cue New Hope Orphanage, the most beautiful, happy and loving, but the poorest, children from the local area and one passionate, committed, hard working young woman with a far-reaching vision, which here and now almost seemed impossible. But we all know that we can make our dreams come true. After all, I was living my own, right there, in that time and space. This lady, the orphanage’s Director, hopes to (and we know she will) improve the lives of the children by opening first a primary, then a secondary school and finally a training institute for teachers. She trusts in God (as do the vast majority of African people) believes in the power of prayer and knows (as do we) that one day, her prayers will be answered – as they are already being, on the journey which she has already begun. We have absolutely no doubt about her integrity or her motives and we fell hook, line and sinker into the ocean of her commitment to these children.

The children in pre-primary sat, eyes wide, teeth gleaming, hanging on to the Directors every word, soaking up her teaching and congratulating their class mates on achievements in class by clapping together and repeating their uniformed, sing-song response: “well done, well done, you are the best…” I have to comment on their abilities, work ethic and respect, in contrast to their UK brothers and sisters of a similar age. Their number and letter formations were spot on, pencil grip and control, ability to copy from the board, concentration, willingness to learn and volume of work completed would put many 7 year olds to shame,  let alone children of their own age – 5 and 6. They responded, willingly and quickly to any instruction given to them and the adult very rarely spoke using anything other than hushed tones. And she never used any tone other than a respectful, sometimes authoritative, but always kind voice – there was no need. Of course, children are children all over the world and there were occasionally issues between them, or they weren’t doing as requested, but the minute she spoke, they responded appropriately. It was very refreshing!
On our last day with the children,  we provided ‘party’ food – peanut butter and jam sandwiches, water melon and oranges for more than 60 children. Not one child refused, or left, anything because they ‘didn’t like it’ – even though some of the bread and the crusts were unfortunately very dry.

Gratitude and appreciation for everything is very evident, from everyone here, which is extremely humbling when you know that what you have done, or given, is fairly modest in our terms.  Another traveller we met was told by a local that they feel blessed that we, as tourists, choose to come and spend our money in Tanzania, out of all the places in the world. That explains why they are the most genuinley warm and welcoming people we have ever met. Everywhere we have been, people’s first words are: ‘Karibu sana’ which translates to ‘you are most welcome’, even in the humblest and most remote of places. I was moved to tears when we recently visited a residential centre for mentally disabled children and young people, who benefit from the bread that the bakery we help to support, provides for them daily. They were told in Kiswahili who we were and their immediate and repeated response was, ‘Asante sana’ – thank you very much. To us, it’s nothing but to them, it’s everything. A life saver. So, so humbling.

Who Turned the Heat Up?

After initially flying into Shanghai and spending a few days in beautiful Suzhou and Hangzou, we headed back to Shanghai to catch our flight to Beijing ready to join our 3 week tour. But No Flight. Cancelled and chaotic, no one seemed to be able to confirm if there would be a later flight that day or not. We spent much of the time chasing our luggage and queueing with several hundred others, from the 6 or 7 delayed flights before ours, to get our piece of paper to confirm the cancellation in order to get a refund. A fellow queuer found that there was a fast train from Shanghai to Beijing leaving from a station the other side of the city, so we stuck with him, shared a taxi to the train station and got the last remaining tickets for the last train that day. Lucky or what – in what was a stressful few hours.

Shanghai railway station

It seemed that, for a few days, everything happened at the same time to actually push us up against the wall. The hotel we were booked into used to be university halls and certainly needed a good deep clean, new carpet and some renovation. The room smelled of smoke and, what can only loosely be described as ‘breakfast’, included a pile of cold fried eggs and a sign: No Wasting.
Our long journey and very late/early morning check-in  added to our emotional exhaustion, together with the oppressive heat and hoards of people at the Forbidden City. The toothache that I now had, the inflamed ankle with horrendously itchy bites added to the tiredness, stress of the cancelled flight and the unknown whereabouts of a tracked parcel sent home from India, together with the culture shock of India catching up with us, created a huge desire in both of us for the comforts of the familiar. We could have quite happily got on a plane home.

Beijing is a city that seems cold, vast, imposing and foreboding. The austere feel about the city seems to symbolise the military power and control that China holds. Our tour group leader asked, before we arrived at Tiannamen Square, that no-one asked any politically sensitive questions whilst we were out, as besides the evident police and security personnel on duty, there are also undercover people who mingle with the crowds…

The Forbidden City is also massive, and a series of vast open courtyard type squares with imposing gateways through to the next one. The one that is prior to what was the Emperor’s residence is completely stone with no trees or nature of any kind in evidence. This is so that whenever the Emperor summoned any of his staff, Province leaders for example, who would be nervous anyhow (because the Emperor had the power to kill anyone for no reason) he did not want them to have any recourse to the tranquility or restorative properties that nature is known to have. He liked to see them quaking with fear before him!

Our walk on The Great Wall took place on a part of the wall in Jinshanling about a 3 hour drive from Beijing. It was worth the drive as we pretty much had The Wall to ourselves. We were prepared for a 3 hour walk: hats, suncream, plenty of water and comfortable shoes. However we were not prepared for the incredible humidity and heat, despite the fact it was cloudy and early in the day. A group of Mongolian ladies wait every day to walk alongside hikers and offer support, if necessary. A slim, shy lady in kitten heels and a neutral shade of foot socks attached herself to us, and I, for one, am very glad that she did. After a gradual and steady incline we began to climb steps and shortly I began to feel the combined effects of the heat and the exercise. After a couple of stops, my new friend began to offer me a helping hand up the steps, which seemed to get taller each time I raised my leg. She whipped a large hand fan out of her bag and fanned me as I stopped every now and then to get my breath back. We were on The Wall now and it was a spectacular sight from the look out towers that we came across  every now and then. Despite the cloud and haze we could make out the heavily tree-covered mountainous terrain that surrounded us 360°. The Great Wall stretched out before us and behind us as far as the eye could see. An incredible and ancient man-made feature on the face of planet earth – and we were standing on it. On the one side of the wall were battlements so that missiles could be aimed at the approaching enemies. Part of the wall has been replaced and repaired over the years but we also saw, and walked on, part of the original wall. Unfortunately by this time I was feeling lightheaded, dizzy and nauseous so chose to take a path from the wall down to our starting point and wait for the rest of the group. My supportive lady came with me and was so kind. A mixture of emotions overwhelmed me: relief that I didn’t have to continue walking for another couple of hours, disappointment in myself that I couldn’t complete the walk with the group and an overwhelming realisation that I was not as young and fit as I once was. However,  when I was feeling calmer, I rationalised that I had made it up onto the wall and had walked along it for some of the way which had been the aim when we set out that morning. Therefore I had achieved that and had not failed myself.

The overnight train to Xi’an (pronounced She-an) was not as bad as I had anticipated. We were booked on to the second class sleepers which is what the Chinese people use rather than the plusher western carriages. 6 to a compartment, luggage storage under the bottom bunks and under the tiny table with a pillow and quilt for each berth. Lights out at 10pm so we managed to down a few beers, share some snacks and engage in some pidgin Chinese/English conversation with our neighbours in the open corridor which passed all the compartments and led to the toilets, which could have been an awful lot worse. Except we found out the next morning just before we alighted that there was a western loo just in the next carriage and we had all been squatting!

Xi’an is the oldest city in China and one of the oldest in the world. It has a very impressive city wall and also a beautiful south gate. The Bell and Drum Towers are right in the centre and add to the fine Chinese architecture evident in the city. As soon as we walked from the bustling train station there was a different atmosphere in this city and there was a warmth about it; it didn’t have the ‘edginess’ of Beijing. Whilst in the city we went to the City Wall and opted for the golf buggy transport around part of it, as once again, it was incredibly hot. We also sampled street food in the lovely Muslim Quarter and found time to look around one of the oldest and most important Mosques in China, which dates back more than 2000 years.

However, despite all this history, the highlight of our visit to Xi’an (and for us, China) was the trip out to see the Terracotta Warriors, a couple of hours drive away. Lena was our excellent guide for the day and during the drive to the site she put the Warriors into context: why they were made, the beliefs of the Emperor of the time and what we would be able to see.

On arrival at the site of the ‘Pits’ where the Warriors were found early in the 1970’s we made our way into Pit 1. A huge, hangar type building, with a viewing walkway all around the edge of the pit, so we were looking down at the warriors. They are so life-like in size, each with their own unique facial features and expressions. The amount of detail is incredible and on one of the warriors, who was found almost intact, and is now in a glass case in the museum area, the whole of the sole of his shoe is  detailed. He also had evidence on his uniform of the fact that, originally, the warriors were colourfully painted before they were buried. This is the reason that only about 30% have been uncovered; the rest will remain buried until such time that there is better knowledge about the preservation of colour. Many of the warriors have been painstakingly and lovingly restored and in one area it is possible to see the labelled and catalogued body parts waiting to be reassembled. It takes one worker between 3 and 12 months to restore just one warrior. It really was an awesome sight seeing these ancient relics in the place where they had been buried so many years ago.

In Pit 2, four military arrays were found in 1976. Numerous horses and chariots are buried here and are awaiting excavation. What is absolutely incredible is that the chariots were made in the 3rd century BC. How did they learn about, let alone manage to do, welding over 2000 years ago?

We travelled down through China, through many beautiful rural towns and villages, on many different forms of transport and staying in a variety of different accomodation, including a monastry at Emei-shan. And if we thought that was basic, with communal showers and squat toilets, we were mistaken. The following day, we bussed, walked and took the cable-car up to see the Golden Buddha, which was well worth the effort. The rest of the afternoon was to be spent on a reasonable 3 hour hike, but with a very steep ascent for the last half an hour. I decided that, again because of the excessive heat, I would take the other option on offer, which was to return by bus to the previous nights accomodation and the rest of the group would join us the following day. Boy, did we make the right choice! When one of the group sent us a picture of the ‘facilities’ on offer later that night, I know that if I had pushed myself to do the hike, the sight of those toilets would have tipped me over the edge completely and the men in white coats would have had to be summonsed! Whilst it was a fabulous view from the top, our group members reported that the heat had almost finished most of them off.  The following morning they had to put back on their, still wet, sweat-soaked clothes to make the journey back to join us. The humidity was such that the clothes did not dry off over night. It was just too much.

Our next destination was Chengdu, the home of the Pandas and the breeding research centre. We spent a wonderful morning here, watching these beautiful creatures eating breakfast,  before moving into the nursery to see some tiny pandas in incubators and ones which the mothers had abandoned. They seemed so adorable! But they are not. Pandas, we learned, are aggressive as well as being solitary animals that don’t like group activities. Pandas spend 17 hours out of 24 eating, and eat 25% of their body weight per day in bamboo! In the spring and summer they eat bamboo shoots and in the autumn and winter they eat the leaves. Another lesser known fact is that pandas are also known as ‘living fossils’ because they are known to have lived for 8 million years and survived the ice age.
The boat cruise along the Yangtze river was under-sold to us in the itinerary. It was actually a very pleasant 3 days luxury when we could relax, not move very far, or fast, and enjoy our surroundings: The Three Gorges. We left the boat and climbed into smaller boats that took us through the second very beautiful gorge, which was at one point extremely narrow. The whole experience was, however, a little spoiled by a local group singing and playing local folk tunes, loudly through a microphone,  on a pontoon at the half way point. It was rather bizarre and spoiled the serenity and beauty of the gorge. Well, I guess keeping the tourists entertained is their perspective!

Following the boat trip and visit to the Three Gorges Dam, the biggest of its kind in the world and built to reduce the annual flooding and loss of life, we took our third and last overnight sleeper train from Yichang in the direction of Liuzhou, ready for our onward journey to Yangshou. However, someone had other plans for us! We boarded early afternoon and settled ourselves in for the long haul, when, after about an hour into the journey, we realised that the train had come to a standstill at a station and had been there for sometime. Cutting a long story short, it transpired that further down the line there had been a landslide and the train had to return from whence it came. Much discussion regarding options for alternative ways to reach our destination followed and we ended up reaching our destination a few hours later than we would have done originally,  but had a reasonable nights sleep in a proper bed rather than a shelf on a train!

Yangshou was a beautiful place, full of very tall hills, which we cycled around on a very hot day, consuming litres of water and, ashamedly, adding dreadfully to the environmental issue that is plastic. We also visited a beautiful lake, at night, and watched a brilliant light show, choreographed by the same man that was responsible for the Beijing Olympic opening ceremony. It was excellent!

Our China experience ended, after a long day of travel, in Hong Kong. A ‘western style’ dinner was the choice of our guide, Jay, who had chosen some fabulous chinese dishes and restaurants for us over the previous weeks. The group dynamics had worked incredibly well and we, of all ages and nationalities, had gelled well under Jay’s quiet but positive leadership. He, too, was sorry to see us all go. But, whilst for us, the China tour had been hard work and had probably not fallen at the best time in our itinerary, we had made it to the end, despite all the sweat and tears – no blood, as far as I remember! Loved is probably not the best word to describe our overall China experience, but the place was certainly interesting, as was much of the social and cultural history we learned along the way. We were not sorry to board our flight to Doha, en route for the highlight and main purpose of the whole trip: Africa, and more precisely, Tanzania.

Apologies for the lack of pictures – the app is not playing ball and I have steam coming out of my ears! You can see as many pics as you like when we’re home!

Beautiful, Filthy India

What a place! I don’t even know where to start – there’s SO much to write about.

Before we arrived in India I didn’t know, really, what to expect, except what we had seen on television and been told about by one or two people who had visited. Now we’re here, it’s everything we’ve ever seen or been told about, and more – all at once!
After the calm and order of clean and tidy Japan, India is the complete antithesis: chaotic and filthy. But it’s also captivating.

Our first experience of the people was before we had even boarded, and then disembarked, the plane. At Sri Lanka airport (our stopover point) there was a family of about 10, grandma, cousins, uncles etc all there to say goodbye to one relative who was off somewhere. They watched him/her for as far as they possibly could until they disappeared out of sight. This was much farther than would be possible in the UK as the screening and checking in process was very different. They waved periodically but the last few family members refused to leave until they were absolutely sure there was no chance of one last sighting. This was a huge insight into the importance of family in India.
Once our plane had landed, we have never seen people up and out of their seats, getting their hand luggage down so fast. They were pretty much ready to leave the plane by the time it had finished taxi-ing and come to a halt! As for us filtering in to the aisle to be able to exit too – that wasn’t going to happen without the use of elbows… Once inside the terminal, formalities were slow, but then the baggage collection was slow too. My husband eventually found our bags in a corner away from the carousel – they’d obviously been in the way of someone else’s! Exiting through arrivals to the front of the airport, a sea of colour and hundreds of people greeted us and as we looked for the board with our name on we were very glad our rep. had the foresight to stand forward of the melee and be a little more obvious. There were ropes to keep the crowds back and as we walked towards the pavement, but for a red carpet, we could have been at some awards ceremony, there were so many people there! All the family had turned out to meet and greet returning relatives. We felt like celebrities on the one hand but alone on the other, as there was ‘just’ us.
We have since realised that, as white people we are a spectacle, and many people, especially children, have not seen the likes of us before. Many times and in many places we’ve been asked to pose for photos with and without the enquirer!

The roads and the driving are an experience in themselves. We had a one and a half hour drive from the airport to our hotel, and I think for most of it my heart was in my mouth! I’m glad there was so much else to look at too as it gave me a distraction. Packed buses with air conditioning ‘au naturel’ (no windows), cars, scooters with the whole family on, pedestrians and tuc-tucs all vie for position on the road and although there is a white line down the middle, no – one takes notice of it! Up hills, round bends and on the straight, if there’s room to get past, then they take it. And by room, I mean the minimum space possible. One honk on the horn means ‘I’m behind you, move over’, two honks, ‘I’m coming past’ and several honks warns someone who can’t yet see you (because they’re round the bend or over the hill) that you’re on their side of the road so move out of the way! Swerving, dodging and weaving are specialities of the Indian driver as is getting between vehicles with literally millimetres to spare. And aging his English passengers very quickly! As far as rules go in India, they are meant to be broken, apparently! Traffic moves down one way streets in both directions in the early morning before the police are on duty. One early morning our convoy of taxis were in a blocked off street so the first driver hopped out, removed the barrier and we all drove through – no one put it back after! There is disregard for the law in many places, but especially on the roads.

Poverty is very obvious: the shacks that line the road side are ‘shops’ and homes. Everything is broken or crudely fixed. There is no thought about getting the best corrugated roof,  just a piece that does not have a hole in will be fine. The standard of living is very poor, yet the women – here in Kerala, anyhow, wear beautiful, bright saris with their dusty flip flops. Everyone seems to wear flip flops, even the construction workers widening the road. The monsoon rains are due any day now and it will rain heavily, most days, for at least 2 months. The pot-holed roads will flood and they will still walk everywhere in their flip flops. Women do not drive: they travel either on the back of a scooter or on the bus. But many of them walk everywhere.

Health and safety does not appear to exist here. Scaffolding (made from bamboo) we saw up against a building looked very precarious and was being supported by a couple of guys. Construction helmets or high viz jackets we have not seen and I don’t suppose they exist here. The men we have seen undertaking road widening were using one pneumatic drill and pick axes. They had no protective clothing whatsoever. God only know how long it will take to complete the work.

India has a reputation for being dirty. We couldn’t believe the amount of litter on the roadside and everywhere. Bags and bags of rubbish were piled here and there along the roads and when we walked along by the beach on the Sunday afternoon we arrived, we saw people just blatantly throwing rubbish on the ground. Apparently Indian people keep their homes spotless… On the Monday as we walked the same area with our guide, there were women out sweeping the rubbish and it did look better. Our understanding from our guide is that Kerala is making an effort to improve the situation and teachers are raising the awareness of children and encouraging them to burn their rubbish. As we moved around the state and into more rural areas there was more noticeably less litter but, as with anything, there is always room for improvement. We did wonder whether the hotel employees who keep the place clean are more litter aware when they are out. The Prime Minister has called for a ‘Clean India’ campaign, which is great, but changing the mindset of 1.4 billion people is not going to be easy or, indeed, happen overnight.

We realise now that anything we see, from grass cutting or clean laundry through to carpets or beautiful saris, it has taken a huge amount of effort to get to the finished product. One afternoon as we sat by the hotel pool there were 3 or 4 workers, women, sitting on the grass trimming the long grass around the steps…with scissors! We discussed the whys and wherefores and wondered if they had thought of the possibility of buying a strimmer and one person could do the job. But when we chatted with our guide about this he told us, as have a couple of employers since, that machines are not used because it deprives people of jobs, and everyone is entitled to a job. The hand made silk and carpet co – operatives that we visited in the north use traditional methods of weaving and the new loom they have is 150 years old; the second one is a little older… a mere thousand years old! The carpet place provides the only fully hand crafted wool and silk carpets in India, and they are suppliers to John Lewis. It is back breaking work but provides many women in the rural villages with employment – they have a loom in their home and work around their family obligations. India railways is the biggest employer in the world, providing work for 13 million people!

Once we left the state of Kerala and flew north, first to Mumbai and then Varanasi and Delhi, our whole experience was very different.

Our Mumbai guide discussed our morning itinerary with us and, not really being museum type people, we chose to see a commercial slum laundry instead. This was definitely big culture shock number one. As we entered the slum we passed the one and only toilet which we were told is cleaned as often as they are able,  but the stench was not good, as I’m sure you can imagine. Moving quickly on we stood and watched as each man stood in, or next to, his concrete ‘washtub’ filled with soapy water (that may or may not have been clean), vigorously slapping soaped clothes against the concrete in a determined effort to remove the very last stain. There must have been 20-30 men doing this task. Other people had their own tasks: mixing the detergent and bringing it to a central place, bringing the next pile of washing to be done or taking the newly washed items up onto the roof to be hung up for drying in the heat of the sun. No commercial machines here, but they have made their own driers which they have to use when the monsoon arrives. Standing up on the corrugated roof we were faced with lines and lines and lines of newly laundered napkins and white shirts belonging to local hotels and their staff. This laundry was used by many of the hotels in Mumbai and, on going for afternoon tea that afternoon at the biggest and poshest hotel in the city, we consciously noted the pristine white table linen and the waiters uniforms, knowing where they had been laundered.
Following the sight of the yellow napkins billowing in the gentle breeze, we went to the ironing ‘department’ where several young men were waiting for their day’s work. Through our guide we asked how many hours a day they worked and what they earned: 12 hour days, 7 days a week for the princely wage of approximately  £150 per month. Our visit here, where these people live and work as a community, day in and day out is etched in my emotional memory for sure. I asked if, generally, the people were happy and was assured that, ‘because they have only seen the purse and not the bag, then yes, they are’. After this visit we were very glad that we had not complained about the few marks that had appeared on a couple of items after they had been sent to the laundry in our previous hotel, especially as we know it was out-sourced!

Leaving Mumbai the next morning we arrived in a very dusty, arid Varanasi early afternoon and were welcomed to India’s holiest city in the almost overwhelming heat, with garlands of yellow and orange marigolds. This is a city of 95 square kilometres and a population of 4 million people.
As we drove from the airport to our hotel it was clear very quickly that this was a very different area. To be brutally honest it looked like a war torn or disaster area – stones and bricks just lying in piles, buildings that look half demolished, or alternatively half built, along the wayside. People sitting in shade where they could find some, outside their small livelihoods – their barrows or covered shacks selling bananas, mangos or maybe some coco-cola or water. Still, litter adorned the side of the dirt track adjacent to the road. We’d heard about cattle being part of the Indian ‘traffic’, and here we saw sacred, scraggy – looking cows meandering alongside the tuc-tucs and rickshaws, carts and cycles not to mention cars, scooters and brightly painted lorries (‘we know how to enjoy ourselves’ was the response when we admired them).

Later that evening we had THE biggest culture shock. Our guide collected us from the hotel for a sunset boat ride on the River Ganges, followed by watching an Aarti ceremony on the river’s banks. As we drove towards what must have been the centre of Varanasi the ‘traffic’ was chaotic…and then the guide told us the car was stopping, we were exiting from the left and to keep walking. My God. COMPLETE and UTTER sensory overload. Didn’t know where to look: at the guide so we didn’t lose him in the throngs; the bikes, rickshaws, and cows etc so we didn’t get knocked down; the road incase we stood in any cow pats or tripped over uneven surfaces; the vendors and their ‘shops’ at their brightly coloured wares; the shocking poverty or the beggars… The noise was deafening: car and bike horns honking continuously; music blaring from shops; people shouting to each other; the loudspeakers relaying the prayers and chants from the temples…
The smells: street food cooking; spices, fresh flowers; rotting rubbish and other unmentionables.
Finally, we made it to the sacred Ganga river and our guide secured a row boat and a young lad to row us and (breathe) we were out of the frenetic mêlée. It was scary, but exhilarating and bewitching at the same time.

NEXT SECTION IS ABOUT CREMATION
Viewing the ghats along the river, we were told there are 84 in total: 82 are for purification and the additional 2 for cremation. People come, and wait, to die in Varanasi as they believe their reincarnations will cease and their soul will go straight to heaven. The river twists and turns across India, but here it runs from north to south, in the direction of Paradise. Women are not allowed on the cremation ghat as any tears that may be shed will prevent the soul from entering heaven. The close male members of the deceased’s  family bring the body, after it has been prepared in the home, to the ghats, and wait their turn on the steps. One of the men will go to another building to buy the flame, the price of which could cost from 1 rupee to 1 million rupee, depending on the caste and richness of the person. They then return to the ghat and, prior to lighting the pyre, they will take the deceased’s body down to the river and place it briefly in the water to purify it. Once it is their turn the body is burned and the family wait during this time. Once the process is complete, the thickest bones (shoulders in men and pelvis in women) along with the ashes are then thrown into the river. This is also the final resting place of young children and pregnant women who are not allowed to be burned. Cremations take place between 4.30am and 9pm every day.

CONTINUE READING
Once we returned to the place we boarded the boat we disembarked and took our seats in prime position to watch the colourful Aarti ceremony, practised by Hindu priests in the temple and ordinary people in their homes every day, maybe several times a day. Thousands of people had arrived during the time we’d been on the river and were sitting either in boats or on the steps and stones, still holding the heat of the day. More and more people gathered and repetitive chanting was playing over the loudspeakers. Then the priests arrived – 7 in total – and took their places on their individual platforms. Bells began ringing and continued for the 30 minutes of the ceremony, whilst the priests carried out a ritual involving incense and flames, all the time moving to the chanting of sanskrit. It was a fascinating, colourful,  sensory and spiritual spectacle and one which we were very lucky to witness in this sacred place.
The following morning we were on Mother Ganga again, watching the sun rise. It was a very serene and peaceful experience and as we rowed up and down the river, alongside a few early morning fisherman and one enterprising souvenir vendor, past the ghats we were able to watch the place began to come to life as people began coming in to the river, some for exercise, some for ablutions and some, with a priest, for purification. People who had been sleeping on the steps of the ghats, or in their boats – like our young rower – began to start their day, washing their clothes in the river, or cleaning their teeth with the twig of a Neem tree. After sunrise the cremations began and would continue until the sunset, a continual cycle just as that of life and death. And for those who have shuffled off this mortal coil, their hell on earth, during the night, one hopes their beliefs and their faith have served them well and they have reached their final destination: Paradise.

From Varanasi we flew to Delhi to begin our group tour of some of the northern states, including ‘the triangle’. History, palaces, forts and gates a-plenty, we have seen some of the most beautiful buildings in the world, heard some fascinating stories and gained a huge amount of information. We will leave with a richness of experiences and an even richer understanding of life and culture in this parallel universe, where western perspectives have no place. Our eyes have been exposed to many unpleasant, upsetting and disgusting sights, but our hearts understand and connect with our fellow global citizens, our brothers and sisters of humanity, and we will never forget our time in this country which has insidiously crawled under our skin and made its way into our hearts. Thank you India, for all you have unknowingly offered us and which we have unwittingly absorbed.

Harmonious Land of the Punctually Rising Sun

We love Japan. It’s spotless and there’s not a litter bin in sight. The trains are punctual to the Nth degree. Polite people who are  friendly, helpful and courteous appear to take pride in everything. Black and white, shrines and temples, neat and orderly are words that come to mind to briefly summarise the people, the place and society.

Our initial apprehension and fears of the unknown were quickly dispelled, once we had time to calm our nerves after a good night’s sleep, following a 9 hour flight from Vancouver. A day of sightseeing in the city with our personal guide gave us the opportunity to use the trains with support, and ask plenty of questions, which developed our confidence to get ourselves around Japan using public transport and arriving in the right place at the right time on our itinerary!

Very quickly we recognised that our comfort zone had only been stretched a little and we could function quite well in this new environment. It is a fascinating place, not least because of its history, about which we have learned just a small part, but also because of the culture and the people.

Our observations are of a people who are reserved, polite, shy, considerate, kind and helpful. However, there are those will barge through if necessary and don’t move out of the way on the pavement! They take great pride in appearance and uniforms, whether it be school, police, train personnel (who wear white gloves!) or hotel staff are so smart at all times. Women dress conservatively and we have not seen hem lengths, anywhere, above the knee. In hot sunshine, gloves – sometimes full arm length – are worn, hats, light scarves and parasols all keep the UVA at bay. The skin of most Japanese people is so clear and youthful looking – we spoke to a man who looked around 50 who told us he was 72! We were also lucky enough today to see a couple who were getting married and they looked about 14, although I’m sure they weren’t!

School children,  out and about everywhere, in bright white shirts, spotless white trainers/pumps and dark trousers or skirts and often white caps are eager to call out ‘hello’ cheerily, as they pass with a wave. They learn English at school but are shy to speak it incase they make a mistake – when we engaged them in conversation they became very flustered!

The first morning we had to catch a train (in rush hour), we were walking against the huge crowds and it literally was a sea of black and white coming towards us, as people seem to favour these colours for work attire, and together with their jet black hair and pale skin… we felt we were drowning in an ocean of black and white!

Prior to arriving in Japan we had read about social customs and etiquette. Society is orderly, neat and tidy and you can see this everywhere. The streets, buildings, public areas, inside and out, are spotless. Litter bins in public are extremely hard to find- people take their rubbish home with them. Shoes are removed on entering a house, and it seems, some bars. The custom is derived from making a clear distinction between inside and out, and not mixing the two. Apparently it is not appropriate to voice an opinion (certainly not loudly, anyhow) if it does not fit with the majority. On further research, it seems that harmony of the group is paramount and social cohesion is very much the order of the day. Making sure that your behaviour doesn’t impact negatively on other people is also important; the station announcer inside the train reminds people not to use their mobile for calls on the train, but if they must, go to the end of the carriage so as not to disturb others. And people abide by this. Blowing your nose in public is frowned on, and you should always make sure the place you have vacated at a cafe is left clean and tidy for the next person. As well as the heated loo seat!

The trains are something else. They run EXACTLY on time and when they pull in to the station the numbered carriages stop precisely lined up with the designated waiting space for that car, marked on the platform. People wait in line between the two white lines marked for such. Orderly, calm and patient is what you see everywhere. Even the steps up and down to the platforms have arrows indicating which side you should walk on, and it is adhered to. Makes for an easier life when negotiating hoards of people! The signs in all the stations (even the small local ones) for the JR (Japan Railway) trains, Shinkansen (bullet train), subway and local lines are all in English too (phew!) and, when you’ve got the gist of it, are easy to follow and find the relevant track. In the first few days people were very helpful in pointing us in the right direction. We’re now catching ferries and buses too, so feeling quite pleased with ourselves!

Our Cultural Experience was very interesting and informative. We went to a traditional Japanese house in a quiet narrow street, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of downtown Kyoto. The lady welcomed us with a customary bow and we left our shoes on the un-matted hallway floor, before stepping through on to the tatami matting and following her to the first floor to be dressed in our kimonos. One size fits all, apparently, and formal kimonos are often passed down through the female line in families. Most young ladies and women own one and are often presented with ones from their family to wear for graduation and formal occasions. An undergarment is worn first and tied tightly, before slipping into the often exquisitely decorated kimono. Decorations of birds and flowers are the more common ones whilst decorations of ladies are more highly thought of.  Choosing a sash to complement the kimono was difficult; there were so many beautiful ones, and it was a work of art to tie. The drumroll, as the ‘backpack’ is called is usually arranged for more formal occasions, otherwise a bow is quite common. The drumroll is purely decorative and serves no function, but people do pop a small purse in there if they’re at, for example, a tea ceremony.

The essence of the Art of Making Tea, aka the Tea Ceremony is a complex one. It is about all those present being equal (hence sitting on the floor) respect, harmony and being present in the moment. The process was very specific and purposeful and gave the opportunity for reflection and mindful thought.

The top leaves of the tea plant are the ones used for grinding and making the macha (powdered) green tea. Once in the cup, boiling water is added and then it is whisked furiously with a small bamboo whisk (it’s all in the wrist action) until there’s a thick foam on the top. Then it is ready to drink, but not before a polite offer is made by the host and an equally polite response from the recipient of the tea.  It’s all very pleasant! There is also an alcove in the room and this is where the guest of honour would sit. After the tea is drunk, the tidying away is also part of the ceremony.

We have seen some wonderfully ornate buildings, Temples and Shrines. The main religions are Buddhism and Shintoism, and there are temples and/or shrines on nearly every corner, so to speak. Tokyo is now the capital city but in years gone by Kyoto was and before that, Nara. Kyoto is therefore a very culturally rich city and it was here we saw the temple covered in gold leaf. The Shinto shrines have a ‘gate’ as you enter, at which you show respect by bowing, and once through the gate and walking on the gravel you are said to be purified. Before you reach the Shrine there is an area at which you are required to cleanse and purify yourself further by holding the bamboo cup-like structure (with a long handle) in your right hand and pouring water (that you’ve scooped into the cup) from the small ‘trough’ over your left hand.

You then reverse this so both hands are ‘clean’. Finally you pour some water into your hand and let your lips touch it before letting it fall into the ‘waste water’ part. Then any remaining water in the cup you allow to fall down the handle of the cup as you tilt it, so that it’s ready for the next person. Now you’re in a state to offer up a prayer. You stand in front of the shrine, bow deeply twice, clap your hands twice (to get the attention of the Gods) and then offer your prayer. Bow deeply again when you’ve finished, and move away, after making a coin monetary offering. Absolutely fascinating to watch.

There are many World Heritage Sites in Japan and we have visited quite a few during our stay. It’s easy to see why they are designated so as some of them are extremely old and are valued in Japanese history, as well as being very beautiful.

For hundreds of years Japan was ruled by Shogunates, and kept isolated from the rest of the world and outside influences. But at the end of the Edo period (1603-1867) the last Shogun relinquished his power and the Emperor Meiji became the ruler of Japan, and is credited as being the Father of Modernism. He was the great grandfather of the current Emperor, who is now, like the Queen, a figurehead and has no actual power. The Emperor lives in the Imperial Palace in Tokyo, once the residence of the Shogun.

We have eaten some traditional foods, and we have left some. In the ryokan (traditional type houses), the meals were served on trays, mainly in small dishes or other interestingly shaped vessels, with several bite sized pieces of food,  some of which looked appetising, some of which didn’t! Every meal served rice and also miso soup, even breakfast. We’ve eaten slivers of raw fish with soy sauce, which was good, Japanese pickles, seaweed, tofu and pickled plum, to name a few things. We also had a burner on the table at dinner to add in thin slices of beef or pork to cook with what was already prepared, which was delicious. We ate Soba noodles with pork at a traditional Japanese ‘cafe’ which were cooked and served on the hotplate. It was good to see what went in it! We also had a delicious stir fry at a small, more upmarket restaurant,  but the set up was similar – the wooden bar we sat at surrounded the chefs and we could see our food being prepared and cooked for us. We are a whizz with chopsticks now!

We have travelled extensively through Japan on the Shinkansen, passing numerous cities and towns at high speed. We have travelled on local lines and seen paddy fields, just sewn before we arrived at the beginning of May. We have travelled through mountains on scenic routes and seen beautiful views and we have walked streets in Tokyo, one of the world’s largest cities, as well as Takyama, a small town with some of the countries best preserved oldest houses. And we have loved every minute. Thank you, Japan, for all the memories and for keeping your uniqueness in a world of sameness. It’s been fascinating and we are so glad we came.

Magnificence: Mountaineer, Mountains and Mother Nature

‘All Aboard’ cried the expectant crowd, which included us, in the Rocky Mountaineer Station, and the Scottish bagpiper piped us aboard. It was a fantastic atmosphere, reminiscent, I imagined, to that of a farewell on the quayside of a departing liner, perhaps on its maiden voyage. I had images from a modern day Titanic in my mind as we stood, coffee in hand, in the early morning Vancouver sunshine, waiting our turn to board this gleaming train and the world class experience that awaited us. I felt very emotional. From the moment we had been collected from our hotel the enthusiasm, love and pride each person connected with our journey had shown towards the Rocky Mountaineer had been absorbed by us, the passengers, and I for one, certainly felt the impact.As the train began its two day trail, deep into the heart of Canada’s rocky mountains and Jasper, we left the station to a line up of ground staff, resplendent in their uniforms,  genuine sunny smiles on their faces waving us off with heartfelt wishes for a fantastic journey. It was a really lovely send – off!  We travelled slowly to begin with through the railyards and before too long the hard concrete and glass buildings of the city gave way to nature’s restorative green trees and forests alongside blue waters of the Fraser river,  which we followed for a good part of our journey to Kamloops on day one. Very surprisingly, this landscape changed and became desert; but for the river, we could have been in Arizona, remarked a fellow passenger, and having been there now, we could agree.

Hospitality, comfort and meeting our every need was the order of the day on board. Organisation and staff training was second to none and we wanted for nothing. A hot breakfast and a three course lunch, complete with an unending flow of wine kept us fuelled and it’s surprising how arduous the day was! By the time we arrived in Kamloops we were absolutely shattered and add ‘train-legs’ (yes, really!) to the equation, we were ready for an early, and a good, night’s sleep.

The second day’s journey took us into more mountainous areas, alongside rivers and through forests but, unfurtunately, the weather was less kind to us and the greater proportion of the mountains were  covered in mist, and raindrops obscured our view, limiting our photographic chances somewhat, which was disappointing. We rolled into Jasper at around 6.30pm and were transported to our lodge accomodation in a beautiful setting in time to enjoy a short walk around the lake, where bears roamed (we were reliably informed), before dinner and settling in for the night.The following day, in increasing sunshine, we enjoyed all that nature offered in and around Jasper: Maligne Canyon, Patricia and Pyramid Lakes and on our wildlife spotting evening tour, we were very lucky to see a bear, thanks to the eagle-eyed Irish lady on our bus. We also saw some elks and a bald headed eagle in her nest at Medicine Lake. The driver/ guide was very knowledgeable and passionate about the wildlife and the local area and kept us all well informed, and entertained, about what we were seeing.

Little did we know what the day had in store for us when we left our lodge the following morning. But on reflection,  the stillness of the water on the lake that reflected Edith Cavell mountain, standing out so majestically against the pure blue heavens and the early morning mist rising off the lake, should have given us a clue.

As our bus drove south in the direction of Lake Louise we followed the Athabasca river, a UNESCO site, along the Colombia Icefields Parkway. We pulled into a car park to visit the Athabasca Falls, but we didn’t get to see them; instead there was a Very Big Bear lying on the grass beneath the tree, eating. We sat watching and taking photographs, but that wasn’t enough for some people. They wanted to get off the bus, and as the driver had reluctantly opened the doors (so they could get better pictures) they began slipping off one by one and getting ridiculously close so they could take their selfies – without any apparant thought that the bear could have, at any moment, moved much quicker than them… it was a wild animal. The bear did get up and, thankfully, walked away from us, but it was a good job he was so pre-occupied with his food. This time of year, after hibernation, bears are very hungry and have little energy. Therefore food is vital for them. As they begin to get stronger and less ravenous they move further up in to the forest and are less likely to be visible. The bus driver was required to report the bear sighting to the parks ranger so that they could come and put up barriers to make sure the bear was protected and people were not in danger. He was also concerned that he would be reported for letting people off the bus. His unfortunate mistake was opening the doors: some people chose to ignore his requests to remain on the bus. I’m just glad no – one was attacked, but they so easily could have been. About 10 minutes after we left the bear, we saw a lone wolf walking in the opposite direction on the other side of the river. This is a rare occurrence to see one on its own, so we were incredibly lucky, once again.

As we drove along the highway the mountains were increasing in number and were very quickly everywhere as we sat, open mouthed in silent wonderment. I have never seen mountain ranges before and every corner we turned revealed glorious and impressive sights. Most mountains were still capped with snow, but British Columbia has had an unusually early Spring and there was much less snow than usual for the time of year.The Athabasca Glacier was dazzling and we were taken on a huge ice explorer vehicle, driven by a remarkably young looking lady who handled it extremely well and was also very knowledgeable about glaciers, their formation and the way in which they are changing. This one is 265 metres deep, 1 kilometre wide and 6 kilometres long. About 150 years ago it was 8 kilometres long and it has been retreating since the end of last ice age. It was a beautifully warm day and we stood on the glacier ice, which has been there for 10 to 15 thousand years, marvelling at our spectacular surroundings and the power of the earth which caused such magnificent structures. The Rocky mountains were caused by 250 miles of ocean floor erupting into 75 miles of mountain range. Just imagine witnessing such an event! Once again, this sight and knowledge brings it home that humankind has no such power, and thinking we can meddle with nature is futile.As we left the glacier behind we continued along the Icefield Parkway, with a running commentary from Robin, our driver for the day. What he didn’t know about everything we were seeing, together with the history of the place wasn’t worth knowing. We stopped at several lakes with, as you’d expect by now, beautiful vistas all made even more stunning with the glorious weather. Bow Lake was especially beautiful, and was named, I guess, because of the bow (arrow kind) like shape made with the reflection from the way the snow was left on the mountain.We finally pulled into our lovely hotel at Lake Louise at the end of a fabulous day. This day was up there with Grand Canyon Day and left us both feeling quite emotionally drained. Nothing can compare with the beauty and majesty of these places and I can’t do justice to them with words or pictures. I now know what Awe and Wonder is, and nothing material would ever touch my soul in the same way. If there are places that you know you want to see, then go there. You have to feel the place; absorb it through your senses and take it home with you in your heart and in your memory. Seeing it on the Discovery Channel just doesn’t cut it.

We had another day of sightseeing in Banff, which included a gondola (cable car) to the top of Sulpher Mountain allowing a stunning 360°vista, and a helicopter ride, before making our way down to Calgary, where our tour ended. We then hired a car to drive back to Vancouver, partly retracing our steps enabling us to get a second bite of the cherry. So sweet.

We arrive back on Thursday and then have a long flight over the Pacific Ocean, during which we need to muster up all our courage for the next part (very nearly second half) of our adventure as we arrive in Tokyo, Japan. Excited? Yes. Scared? Yes. Comfortable? No. We’ll just have to hit the ground running, up that steep learning curve! All will be well.

Driftwood, Mountains, Water and Trees

Our Vancouver Island stay has been wonderful. For one, we have been able to unpack our bags and get washing done which, I know, should be at the end of the list of priorities, but actually was a luxury!

We have spent time with less-oft seen family, which has been great, had chill-out time, been taken to the most beautiful places, some of which we would not have found ourselves, not to mention been thoroughly spoiled. We are extremely grateful for their hospitality, very appreciative of their time and, indeed, use of their space.

The ferry journey from the mainland was a foretaste of things to come, and as the boat began to weave its way through islands of varying sizes it became apparant, very quickly, that we were indeed approaching a land of blue and green. Trees and forests dominated the islands, the trees in what appeared to be height descending order, reaching right out to the end of the long, curved shorelines fringing the edges. Here and there a house was the only sign of any human habitation, but there’s no doubt plenty of wildlife resided in the peaceful havens. Islands, almost blue, formless shapes in the hazy distance, revealed their secrets as we drew closer and the sun sparkled on the rippling, bluest of blue water. It was a great introduction to Vancouver Island and whetted our appetite for more. We were not disappointed.

Generally, beaches that we visited  are not soft and golden, but are more grey in colour. They are made up of rocks, stones and pebbles and are topped with driftwood. First impressions may be that it looks a mess, but in reality the wood is beautiful; washed up on the shore, dried out, some as smooth as silk, varying in size and shape. Great for art, construction and creative activities. The bays are beautiful; places of peace and calm, somewhere to take refuge when the world just gets too much. Sitting on a driftwood log, listening to the gentle lapping of the clearest water, watching the birds taking advantage of the thermals, the outlined, snow topped, hazy mountains on the horizon, and the tall, straight green pines framing the bay on either side are the perfect antidote to any stress and the quality of mother nature restores the soul perfectly.

Across from the Island, America’s Olympic Mountain range is spectacular, even though the mountains were not clearly visible for much of the time. When the cloud lifts, their shape, outlined with shimmering white snow against the blue sky, and their majesty, is awesome. Seeing them meet the water and then a golden beach (we did find one!) in the foreground redoubled our belief that we were truly blessed, in so many ways. Thanks to so many people we stood in that place.

We visited British Columbia’s capital, Victoria, several times and enjoyed the area around the picturesque harbour. The government building is one of grandeur, fronted by well kept lawns, and it’s green dome shaped roof was a clear landmark. The Royal B.C Museum was well worth a visit, as was Fisherman’s Wharf which housed some very colourful house boats. Whilst there we saw a few seals, one of which was determined to ensure the person feeding them knew he was there, by splashing his front flipper in a ‘don’t forget about me’ kind of way!

Butchart Gardens are, apparently, world famous and they were certainly worthy of the accolade. The sunken garden, developed in a disused gravel pit, was glorious. The impeccably kept, rainbow coloured garden was a complete surprise as we turned the corner and we spent a considerable time admiring the spectacle.

Our hosts ensured that we saw the very best that the island offered, and took us to the wonderfully named Whiffen Spit to enjoy a walk out along the Spit, which protects Sooke basin on one side and has the open water of the Juan de Fuca strait on the other. It was a very beautiful place. We also visited Goldstream Park, where  salmon return to spawn and which has so many moss covered trees, a(nother!) lovely waterfall and the Malahat and Finlayson mountains in sight.

The Malahat is the demarcation point that starts an ‘up-island’ trip, as the road begins to climb from this point.  Our up-island day trip to Parksville was one to remember: not a cloud in the sky from dawn to dusk, mid twenties temperature and the mountains sitting on a blue ribbon of sea that bound the far edge of a golden blanket of sand, stretched out before us. Heaven.

Another day we went to Witty’s beach with another wonderfully named piece of nature: Sitting Lady Falls. Not sure how she managed that!

The drive up, most of the way, and a final walk to the summit of Mount Douglas, affectionately known as Doug, was well worth it: a panoramic 360° view of Victoria and surrounding area.

Our only disappointment was the Whale Watching trip. No whales on our watch. But we do have in our possession a lifetime guarantee from the company: that we can take as many trips as we need, until we see whales. I guess that’s a good reason for a second trip to Vancouver Island, the beautiful place we have taken into our hearts.

A few days in downtown Vancouver to spend some time with our daughter, will give us a chance to reflect on our visit, amongst other things, before our second encounter with the beauty of Canada’s fabulous landscape: The Rockies.

Santa Barbara, San Francisco and all the bits in between

Red tiled rooves, white buildings, blue skies and soaring temperatures – we could have been forgiven for thinking we were in Spain.

But no. Santa Barbara and many other places we have visited have a Spanish, or Mexican, influence and the Pacific coastal towns were no exception. Santa Barbara is a gorgeous small town just a few hours north of Los Angeles, and to reach our destination we drove along highway 1 up the coast, through Malibu, with some very lovely beach side properties. We arrived mid afternoon on a Saturday and parked in the street (we have not – town councils take note – paid for ANY parking whether in the street, car parks, or attractions during the whole of our time here) and our first impression was an appreciation of the quiet and the cleanliness of the area. We walked a couple of streets admiring the beautiful buildings and then we were on the main street. It was really bustling with Saturday shoppers, but the street was spotless. Red tiled sidewalks, with troughs of plants neatly lining them, ornamental street lighting, plenty of seating, with people sitting, chatting or people watching. It was a great atmosphere and one in which we were happy to participate.

Many of the houses in Santa Barbara were nestled in the hillside and our Airbnb accomodation was in such a location. Once the neighbour had finished pruning his hedge, the sound of silence was deafening.

As it was Easter Sunday, we found the local church and made the effort to get up early and be there in plenty of time. It was at the church which had been the original Mission in Santa Barbara and was very beautiful. The locals are obviously very proud of their church and we joined a queue of, well, it must have been over one  hundred, people waiting outside for the Mass that was in progress to finish! An even greater number of people exited the church, before we went in, and when we came out there was a similar sized queue, or line-up  (as they like to call queues) waiting for the next Mass. Religion is certainly alive in Santa Barbara!

From here we drove further north on route (pronounced ‘rowt’) 101 – which alternates between being the 101 and highway 1 – to a lovely small place named Morro Bay. Prior to arriving there we stopped for lunch at a place called Madonna Inn, and if you’re ever in the area, do call in and see it for yourself! It’s…, well it’s…, hard to know how to describe, really. Friends told us about it,  and it was worth the hour of our time. The lunch wasn’t bad either! Anyhow, back to Morro Bay. Only a small place, but it has a huge volcanic rock that separates the harbour and the Bay.  The day we arrived it was mega windy (we struggled to open the car door) and we sat, after our ‘walk’ along the beach turned into an enforced sprint, watching someone kitesurfing on the raging seas; it was phenomenal to watch and whoever it was, was lifted 10-15 metres in the air, several times, and carried along by the wind. Incredible!

The following day was much calmer and we strolled along the embarcadero, stopping to watch the playful otters in the marina. We chatted with an elderly American couple; the gentleman was super impressed with our trip and told us we were ‘outta his league!’ He’s never left California – why would he, he asked, he had everything he wanted right there. Fair comment.

The next leg of our journey was something else. Google maps was directing us up the freeway several miles east of the coast to Monterray. We ignored it. We had always planned to drive up the coast, but after chatting with a lady in the line up at the church who mentioned the Big Sur, which we subsequently looked up, we were even more determined to ignore Google maps!

It was a stunningly beautiful drive: dramatic cliffs, tucked-away bays, a twisting and turning highway that, here and there, shaved the cliff which dropped many feet to the ocean, rolling hills and all with a backdrop of an azure blue sky that went on for ever. Bliss!

The driving was quite intense and good old Google’s prediction of 2.5 hours, grossly underestimated. It took pretty much all day and the concentration required was quite significant. The puncture we sustained was, thankfully, as we were nearing the end of our journey, and necessitated  a detour to the Goodyear tyre garage for a replacement, before arriving at our motel for a well deserved beer, follwed by rest for my amazing chauffeur.

Because of the tyre situation, we hadn’t been able to stop at Carmel, so we re-traced our steps the following morning. I really wanted to go because many of Danielle Steele’s (you’ll have heard of her if you’re my age, I bet!) protagonists drove up to Carmel when it all got a bit too much in San Francisco, and they needed to get away to mull things over. It was another gorgeous small town, with, I would guess, plenty of people with plenty of money. The beach was at the end of this pretty little road which we walked down in 5 minutes from the town. It was beautiful, and, much to my husband’s dismay (as we found out afterwards), Doris Day lives there and appeared on her balcony to celebrate her 92nd birthday just 2 days after we’d visited! He’s a big fan.

Our next destination left us, once again, open-mouthed and repeating similar superlatives used at the Grand Canyon.

Yosemite National Park is 7 miles long, 1 mile wide with the tallest granite rock just a mere 7000 feet high. In contrast to the Grand Canyon, where we stood on the rim and looked down, here we were cricking our necks looking up to try and see the top! El Capitan, Half Dome, Sentinel and Cathedral rocks, to name just a few were breathtaking, not least because of their size. The tall pine trees which dwarfed us were like snippings of garden twine against them. Bridalveil, Horseshoe, Sentinal and Vernal falls were immense and we could hear the roar of the water from our tent at night. These incredible natural wonders are so humbling and really do make you realise the absolute power of nature and (wo)man’s insignificance in comparison. Who do we think we are, really?

Again, blessed with wonderful weather for our 2 days here, we were able to see the place at its absolute best, as we completed a 5 plus miles hike to, and around, Mirror Lake during which we encountered the tallest pine trees, the stillest water, the prettiest glades and babbling creeks…you get the picture. It was all just beguiling. Our bear-proof tent was something else, and the campsite was very strict about not leaving rubbish, food or toiletries in your tent, or car; we saw photographic evidence of trashed cars where bears have tried to enter…

Leaving this beautiful haven of peace and tranquillity, we began our journey westwards towards San Francisco, where we were very excited to be going. But not before we had been to Sacramento and the Old Town there. During the gold rush period it had been the richest place in California, we were reliably informed by the old lady, dressed in character, at the visitor centre. The buildings are beautifully maintained in their original ‘cowboy’ days state, and we walked on boardwalks instead of pavements. We were on the lookout for someone to be eliminated from a bar through some swing doors onto the street on the end of someone’s boot!

Then we were on our way to San Francisco! There was a great sense of satisfaction and achievement that we had, after around 2600 miles and 26 days on the road, arrived at our final destination in America, never mind the fact that it was also San Francisco! Credit to Google maps offline, free hotel wifi and to the navigator – me – who ensured only the very minimal number of errors (which only occurred when the driver failed to listen!)

We loved San Francisco. The people and the place are strong, resilient and stoical in order to have literally picked themselves up, dusted themselves off and started all over again three times after earthquakes have destroyed much of their beautiful city. The last significant one was in 1989.

The city, if you don’t know, is built on over 50 hills, and is 7 miles long and the same distance in width. It has a lovely circular bay in which sits The Rock, aka Alcatraz, once the formidable home to Al Capone and other notorious law breakers. Only 3 people ever escaped and no one knows if they drowned in their attempt to get to the mainland or if they were successful, and once again enjoyed their liberty.

Cable cars traverse the incredibly steep hills which run through the city. Unfortunately these are not indicated on the map so thinking ‘we can walk from a to b’ is not that simple when you round a corner and a mountain of tarmac greets you! The cable cars are amazing vehicles, originally invented by someone who couldn’t bear to see how the horses, that used to pull carriages of people up the hills, got injured. The cars have no engines and are pulled by a steel cable embedded in the street that is continually moving at a steady 9 mph. The only way to stop the cable car is by forcing a wooden lever down hard onto the ground.

For you pub-quiz-goers, there have only ever been 3 women drivers of cable cars, because of the strength needed. The first of these women was the late and great novelist, Maya Angelou.

Other trivia about San Francisco, that may or may not be useful to you over your life time, are as follows:

* there are more cats and dogs in the city than children registered in schools

* providing you wear once piece of clothing, i.e. a hat, it is perfectly legal to walk naked around the city

* Robin Williams rode his bike around the city, autographed it and donated it to charity for auctioning

* The Mrs Doubtfire house is in the city

* Golden Gate bridge is so named because it spans the Golden Gate Straits, and not because of its colour

* There are only 2 cemeteries in the city – one for veterans and one for pets

As the United States of America leg of our trip drew to a close, we reflected on our thoughts and experiences here. We came with no expectations, and therefore have not been disappointed. We have not been anywhere that we have not enjoyed. The natural world has featured very large in our experiences and the vastness of the Arizona desert, the sheer size of  Utah’s Monument Valley, Grand Canyon’s incredible beauty and the unparalleled (in our experience,  at least) Yosemite National Park will be hard to beat. These places have completely bowled us over and our senses have been enhanced 10 fold in the 2 months since we left home. What does Canada’s west coast hold for us, I wonder…

Hollywood or (botoxed) Bust

Well, it had to be done. We could not stay just a few miles away from Tinseltown and not pay ‘it’ a visit.

The tour we booked on to was a ‘combi’: visiting the homes of the rich and famous – I use the term visiting loosely – and a tour of Warner Brothers Studios. We preferred this to Universal Studios which, apparently, is more of a theme park, and no longer our cup of tea (not that it ever was, really).
Our tour bus driver took us through the hills of Santa Monica towards Pacific Pallisades and the homes of Reese Witherspoon, Goldie Hawn and Bill Cosby. A very beautiful area, with wide roads and tree lined streets and not much going on. I didn’t feel very comfortable playing the role of voyeur – after all these people (for that’s what they are, when all’s said and done) choose to buy houses in this location for the privacy and bus loads of gawpers is the last thing I would imagine they want.  Our tour company boasted that it’s smaller tour buses were allowed to go where the bigger buses can’t. That’s alright then. In reality though, there were very few of the houses that could be seen from the bus; many were behind big wooden gates, up or down long drives or screened by heavy foliage. In addition, many of the houses are built on the Californian hillside, so only the roof is visible anyhow. We continued our journey, travelling through Bel Air, Rodeo Drive and Beverly Hills, passing by homes of Jennifer Aniston, Diane Keaton, Kirk Douglas and the Sinatra and Hilton (hotels)families, amongst others. Bruno Mars and Katy Perry have homes in Mulholland Drive and Britney Spears has one somewhere we drove through, although she only really uses it when she’s working, apparently. We also passed by the University of California and Los Angeles  (UCLA) who pick the cream of the crop of athletics students and therefore have the largest number of medal winner amongst former students. Their most famous sports star is the late Flo-Jo, the fastest female 100m sprinter who still holds the world record.

We continued our drive through the leafy, and somewhat exclusive, suburbs keeping eyes peeled and cameras at the ready. Today, however, was not going to be our day for ‘The Hoff’ to spot one of us taking his picture and hopping aboard the bus for a selfie with the photographer, as he has allegedly done recently!
Finally Hollywood Boulevard came into sight, but only after we had got(ten) off the bus (that looked like 10 miles away from the infamous Hollywood sign nestling in the hills) for a picture. What a let down! Each letter is 45ft high; well not in my photograph – they are about 2mm!(and that’s on zoom😄). Apparently you’d have to hike through the forest to get much closer, as they’re trying to preserve the sign.
Anyhow, back to tacky Tinseltown. For that’s what it was. Crowds of people, stalls selling this and that, tours of here and there, swarms of slick selfie suckers and tons of tat. Oh, and some red stars on the pavement, which were hard to glimpse under the varied footwear passing along the boulevard. Some had cracks on them, some the writing has worn off and some were for stars we’d never even heard of. But we found one for our local lad, Ben Kingsley, who lives near Stratford. Ironic really that the gloss has worn off on the glossiest street in the Movie Industry.

One thing we have realised is that, certainly in the West, people and places are all the same. People go about their daily lives, just as we do, whether they live in California or Coventry. In Hollywood or Hull (or Rio😉) the tour company buses won’t wait for you if you’re late. Old folk need assistance here as there and children want their mamas just the same as at home. People and places. No difference.

Combi tour part 2 took us to the Warner Brothers Film Studios which was impressive. Except that the guide was under pressure to get us through the tour as quickly as possible to get us back to our bus. They’ve changed the tour they offer and it now takes longer but the bus company hasn’t taken account of this with regards to the collection times. Like I was saying…same problem, different place!

Nevertheless, we enjoyed the experience. Airport type security on entry, and then Daniel,  our guide, drove a little open – sided, electric, 12 seater vehicle around the ghost-town back lots (outside sets) where production use a variety of different building ‘skins’ to make one street look like any type of street they want it to. We drove around a couple of these and Daniel pointed out various places where scenes from ‘Pretty Little Liars’ and ‘Big Bang Theory’ have been shot. Meant nothing to us!
Our guide took us to a couple of sets they use for shows like ‘Ellen’ with audiences, and also ‘soap’ type shows, explaining how side sets are swung in to give an occasional different set. He also took us to the studio where Casablanca and My Fair Lady (we DID know about those!) were filmed.
It was very interesting but all too rushed.
We then went to an interactive exhibition where we learned how the making of movies progress: from the creation of storyboards to the making of models of buildings and costumes etc to enable films and series to take shape and come to life.
Of course, we had to sit on the “Friends” couch in the coffee shop set and at the table in the refectory in Harry Potter (to see how they manage perspective).
And without question, we had to hold the REAL McCoy…an Oscar Statue. Warner Bros. won it in 1946 for Best Animated Cartoon. It weighed 8.5lbs, is made of copper with a lead base and then gold plated. Really Cool! Just didn’t have my acceptance speech to hand…

Just to add in a little dose of reality to this star-something-or-other (was it spangled or struck? ) post, it was interesting to discover that, due to the higher than average earthquake risk, the houses in California are built from wood and supported with metal frames. Any bricks that might be seen are purely for decoration. Facades, masks, make-up, personas… all the same thing really: come out, come out whoever you are!

We have really been appreciating our total freedom on the road. Every day is exciting, with new things to see and discover; no two days are the same and we can, much of the time, please ourselves. No Monday morning blues, no hump days and no weekend count-downs. This is what really living is all about.