Lisa Niver's Blog: We Said Go Travel, page 364

A Morning Wake Up Call in Italy

An Early Morning Wake Up Call

“Even Jesus was not glorified in his own place but rather judged. “

-Unknown

 

It has always been a struggle to prove oneself from where you’re from, people tend to overlook what  known you can do because they’ve known you for so long to remember your mistakes but not the otherwise.  Yet, it should be the goal of oneself to rise above it all and to prove everybody wrong and oneself right.

A quest that most often than not makes one a free man, free from judging, free to become one’s true self, and free to become the best one can be. Was it Cambodia for me? I did eat, pray, and love in Bali but was it a life changing place for me? Sure, I have mind opening moments in Myanmar and found love in Thailand but where did my life really change? Europe? Australia?

I have been on the road since 2004 and since I left home, I always longed to go back home safe.  I did not know that leaving home will forever change my life.  I thought it was when father died when I was 16 that forced me to mature early, but it did not stop there.  Life made me struggle every step of the way because I have to make my own mistakes and wrong decisions to learn on my own.

Working on a modern day Amistad open my mind that life is cruel, and not fighting means you have to take it all in.  Escape to Italy was my young mind’s solution to all the suffering, but little that I know of that ahead of me was even worse.  Homelessness in the cold winter weather, hunger, and loneliness.  I didn’t know how horrible it was to be homeless in the snow.  Churches kept me warm when they’re open.

When I finally found a job, it was not as great as it was, it was camouflaging horror.  A sexual predator with a conscience, I was not raped but harrassed and in my hopeless situation as he sat me on top of the glass counter in the shop, locked himself in between my legs while his grip on my crossed wrists were so tight that all my strength pushing him away and trying to kick him does not even made him move a flinch.  He was that strong and I remember staring to his eyes while my mind asked him “Why?”, and I felt his grip loosened.  I pushed him away, grabbed my stuff and ran fast the switch of the automatic taparella not knowing how fast I got out there with the slow moving auto-taparella.

I remember how paranoid I’ve become after that.  Every bus and train I get on made me turn and get nervous  everytime  it opens.  Once, I remember docking when the bus stopped exactly where the monster’s shop was.  I thought I’ve gone crazy.

I ran so fast that, it took me an hour to tell my landlord what happened to me.  Surprised hearing my story, he went down to tell my uncle, my only close relative, that lives downstairs my story and came back telling me that my uncle wanted to talk to me.  I went down but he did not say anything helpful, I remember he only asked, “Was that true?”. I nodded.  Nothing else after that, so I left and went back up.

Friends helped me to file a complaint to the Carabinieri, and I am grateful up until now to those who have helped me, went out their way to help someone that they were not even related. I don’t forget good deeds unto me.  It was a terrible state of mind and being; An mind opening experience that slaps truth in your face that when I called home and told my mother what happened to me, she was worried at first but were asking money for my siblings’ the next day.  That day, I realized I was all alone in this battle I fought to help them.  The truth that forever changed me.  I could have died that day and because I wasn’t they think asking money the next day was okay.  I could not comprehend any of that at all but it was my wake up call.  Italy changed me, my relationships, and how I deal with disrespectful people.

I’ve learned to let go but I am still healing, and traveling definitely helped a lot to it.  Different places has taught me different things I sometimes overlook in my daily life.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Gratitude Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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@RitzCarlton #LosAngeles: Turn Your Daycation into a Residence!

Have you ever wondering where to spend a day in Los Angeles that makes you feel so refreshed and renewed it is like a week’s holiday? Spend your Daycation at the Ritz Carlton in Los Angeles and feel revived!

I toured around L.A. LIVE and Staples Center with my umbrella. I think it was 100 degrees in the shade, very surprising for September but it made the stunning lobby of JW Marriott Los Angeles L. A. Live all the more inviting. Later, The Mixing Room would become the site of not only people watching and star gazing but I would meet Bailey from the LA Kings!

As I take the escalator up to the Ritz Carlton Spa, I have no idea that simply entering the doors will be like finding a cocoon of peace and serenity. Elissa greets me with a glass of champagne and shows me the private relaxation area inside the women’s spa which is enveloped in the smell of eucalyptus from the steam room. I decide to relax in the co-ed sanctuary in my Ritz Carlton robe on one of the comfortable round loungers while listening to the music and reading. This is truly an urban oasis.

If you are already thinking about Valentine’s Day, choose the couple’s room which has a tub to enjoy after a treatment. Your room and tub will be scattered with rose petals and create a lasting memory from a spectacular experience.

Raquel soon escorts me to my treatment room, called Mercury;  the entire area has a stars and sunshine theme. I love the golden tiles in the in-room shower which can be seen all over the spa.  Today, I am discovering the “Fire and Ice” treatment.

From the Ritz Carlton Spa Menu: about Fire & Ice: “Take time to experience earth’s rarest elements from the depths of the Blue Lagoon in Iceland. After a light exfoliation, a rare white silica mud mask is applied to instantly hydrate and re-mineralize skin. The journey concludes with a relaxing full body massage incorporating hot and cool stones.”

I selected this treatment as it is a combination of things found while traveling like minerals in Iceland as well as hot stone massage. I had never had a hot and cool stone massage and this experience was fantastic. I loved the heated table, the silky sheets, the white silica mineral mud mask and the smell of the oil. I can highly recommend this experience. After my treatment, I felt like I was walking on air and had been on vacation for days.

The Ritz Carlton is known for being a place to expect the unexpected and have first-class memorable experiences, every moment of my daycation proves that this is true. After my spa treatment in The Mixing Room, I was able to see the Stanley Cup in person and get a hug from Bailey from the LA Kings. The first preseason game is September 22 against the Arizona Coyotes and you can join Bailey’s Buddies and enjoy the newest PUCK&PLAY at the NEST  and WP24 on the 24th floor. Enjoy Dim Sum before the game and have tasty treats without waiting while making it to your seats on time.

Look for more about my amazing dinner at The NEST coming soon in USA TODAY. Thank you to the entire Ritz Carlton team especially Elissa and Raquel at the Spa, Wagstaff Worldwide, Kalayana, Justin, Alonso and Klaus Puck at the NEST and WP24 for an amazing day and evening!

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A Day in Bordeaux, France

The image in my head of Bordeaux was stuffy, snooty and uptight. I would think of the cost of First Growth Bordeaux and the pretense of collectors I have met over the years. But, when I stepped foot in Bordeaux, it was not at all what I expected.

Bordeaux is a vibrant, exciting city thanks to their long-standing center-right mayor (and former prime minister) Alain Juppé who started a massive regeneration program in 1995. He opened up the riverfront, made the city center pedestrian friendly, cleaned up the old buildings and installed a hi-tech tram system. Today Bordeaux is not only the largest urban world heritage site but has been ranked as France’s second favorite city after Paris.

A great place to start when you are visiting Bordeaux is the Bordeaux Wine School. While they offer many intensive courses, they also offer a two hour workshop where you can learn how to taste and talk about Bordeaux wines.

Once you have a foundation under your belt, it’s time to explore the city. While surrounded by some of the best vineyards and wines in the world, the city of Bordeaux is worth taking some time to eat and drink and we have some suggestions.

La Brasserie Bordelaise Bordeaux 

A traditional, and popular, French brasserie in the old part of Bordeaux with great oysters (a classic Bordeaux dish) and exceptional quality meat from local farms.Le Petit Commerce Bordeaux

Le Petit Commerce Bordeaux 

A cozy restaurant located down an alley, a short walk from the square in the old town of Bordeaux, Le Petit Commerce serves fresh seafood. Served tapas style, it’s a great place to enjoy with friends. It’s popular and small so it fills up quickly but they have two other restaurants next door to help with the crowds.

Miles Restaurant Bordeaux 

Owned by four young chefs (two couples) who all hail from different parts of the world (Israeli, Japanese, New Caledonian and French Vietnamese). These talented chefs offer regularly changing tasting menus for lunch and dinner. The flavors are exquisite and the presentation elegant.

And with a vibrant nightlife, finish off the evening with drinks at L’Alchimiste Bordeaux, the first classic cocktail bar in Bordeaux.

 

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Supreme Influence: Join Niurka in Los Angeles October 11, 2014

Are you ready for transformation? As Niurka says, “Often the very thing that challenges you is where the greatest gift resides for your evolution.” See her in person in Los Angeles for a one-day session October 11, 2014 or join her for a several day conference in Joshua Tree.

Niurka recently asked a Los Angeles audience at the Marina Marriott: “Do you TRUST Life?” She then said: “If you do not trust life, you can see where you have been wounded. There is a space to find a gift and magic.” Tenesha, who sat next to me at a recent one-day event, told me she first found out about Niurka on Facebook six months ago and knew she could not miss this live event. She told me she wanted to go after her passions instead of just staying in her comfort zone. She hopes to learn to use all the power inside herself to change her life.

Are you walking around half asleep? Join Niurka and WAKE UP! Her transformational seminars will teach you to direct your subconscious. Using her MINDPOWER techniques you can change your life. As you learn to masterfully navigate your thoughts and words from problems to possibilities, you can find the gifts and immense power of your subconscious.

When she said, “If you step out in faith, you will be given firm ground to walk on or wings to fly. We show up FIRST and life shows up to meet us.” I thought, “What am I waiting for?” As Niurka says, “One doesn’t have to have all the ducks in a row to begin!” We can all begin together and immediately.

Her latest book, Supreme Influence, is available from Harmony books if you do not want to wait to get started. As she says, “Science and Spirituality are coming together. We do live in a universe of possibilities that are influenced by our thoughts.” If you control your thoughts, you can change your life.

From Supreme Influence “We live at a perpetual crossroads. We have freedom to choose and power to create. From moment to moment, we are either aware of our choices and thus choosing wisely, or we are unaware and thus choosing ignorantly. The choices me make yield corresponding consequences.”

 

Niruka loves the Gayatri Mantra from Indonesia. When I was in Bali, I recorded yoga teacher and mystic, Nyoman Korya, singing the Gayatri Mantra at sunset in Lipah, Amed, Bali, Indonesia. Enjoy!

 

 

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Thatta Girl! Lets go to Germany!

“How many pesetas?”

“They don’t use pesetas anymore. Euros only.” The future lawyer rolled her eyes and placed coins in the machine. It spat out a ticket.

“Oh.” I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud.

I picked through the money I’d recently exchanged. How much?

My friend Jessie snatched my change purse and plucked 10.3 Euros.

A convex mirror was hoisted in the corner of the subway station. Shaking heads, impatient arm gestures, and shifting feet accelerated my pulse. I overheard “American” plus an expletive or two in Spanish.

I jammed my ticket in the turnstile the wrong way, then the right way, and ran to catch up with the 3 girls who were already standing on the platform.

Primavera Sound Festival, Barcelona’s annual gathering of alternative, indie, electronic, pop and more already started. We missed the opening acts. If we hustled we would get there in time to see Arcade Fire.

The subway car was full. We stood and rubbed shoulders with aloof and bearded 20-something hipsters, middle aged parents clinging to college cool in Converse and Malcolm X glasses, and kissing teens dressed in black and neon from their souls up to their hair ribbons.

Jessie, Chandra and Elin laughed so hard at their inside jokes they snorted. They did everything together, even laughter.

The military sculpted their minds and bodies. Living in Europe exposed a loophole. Music, fashion, language, and culture seeped through. It left an imprint.

“The first round’s on us. It’s your birthday.” They paused in the middle of a rant about men.

Ah yes. I’d almost forgotten. Today was my birthday.

The things you do on your birthday set the tone for the rest of the year. That’s what the blurb said, when I read it ages ago.

The suggestion took root but didn’t manifest until Al died.

Al, the elderly man that I cared for, died in December. The pain cut deep. So deep it opened my veins to his guidance.

92 years of living had convinced him that it was better to do than to dream of what could have been. He reminded me of this often, during our walks at the park, our snack with the sisters at the Abbey, or watching The Lawrence Welk Show.

“Do it, Mari.” He wouldn’t entertain my excuses. The truth was that I was scared. It had nothing to do with an unreliable car or the recession. “Afraid. You have no reason to be afraid.” He shook his finger at the lie. “Don’t waste time.”

I booked my ticket a few weeks after his ashes were interred. In my dreams he held my hand, and said it was time.

“Parc Forum,” The conductor said. The doors opened and we shuffled up the escalator past the ETA graffiti.

Flower vendors, ticket scalpers, and beer peddlers jockeyed to interrupt our progress.

The “PRIMAVERA SOUND” sign was lit up Las Vegas style. Each letter lit up in florescent yellow, one after the other. It looked like a wave or an undulating snake.

Our bracelets were color blocked and dotted with green, pink and white thread. When the dreadlocked security guard fastened it on my wrist, I knew I’d wear it until it unraveled.

The Iberian coastline and its tiny pebbles also hosted t-shirt stands, vinyl racks, and organic food wagons. Falafel and first press Mudhoney records reminded me to come back later.

The main stage was in sight. A thick crowd clustered the stage. Each age bracket managed its anticipation differently. The younger channelled it into Facebook statuses on iphones. The older punched beach balls into the sky and reminisced about the first time they saw the Pixies perform.

“Drinks first.” Bar stop. As promised, a birthday beer was forthcoming.

“Ugh,” I grimaced.

‘Drink up,” Jessie said. “And loosen up!”

They chugged and wove towards the front. Arcade Fire was on. Kaleidoscopic lights and multicolored props matched wits with paint splotched white suits. I could hardly see them, and split my time between standing on tiptoe and looking at close-ups on huge screens.

Not that it mattered. They ripped into songs. The production leaked oil into my creaky joints. Like the Tin Man, my jaw unlocked. I could sing.

It was like riding a bicycle. Once you learn, you never forget.

I danced in emancipation. Sweat pulled up from my pores. This time, joy was to blame.

Confetti blasted into the sky like a geyser. It landed on me like New Year’s Eve: a herald of new beginnings.

We raised our arms high. Reached for the invisible space where art is born. We brushed it with our fingertips.

Al was right. There is no other time. “Thatta Girl,” I felt him say, in the frisson of the encore.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Independence Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Marvelous Malaysia: Housesitting in Langkawi

While sitting in our guesthouse in Fortuna, Costa Rica last Fall, I was imagining our upcoming trip to Volcan Arenal when I found a housesitting assignment in Langkawi, Malaysia in the Caretakers Gazette. After nearly a year and a half on the road, staying in one place for three weeks sounded like heaven.  I wrote to Valerie and Donal, the homeowners, indicating my interest and all about past travels to Asia including a brief visit five years ago to Langkawi.

Valerie wrote back the next day and mentioned that of all the applicants, we were their top choice and it was quite important to her that we had been to Langkawi in the past. They requested more information as well as a photo. We shared several emails and everyone was content with the arrangement.

We first learned about Caretaker’s Gazette from Jen Leo. We appeared on her show, This Week in Travel in July 2012. While being interviewed by Jen during her show she recommended the Caretaker’s Gazette to us and we quickly decided to join and paid the reasonable annual fee. For many months we perused the ads but nothing stood out as suitable for us until we noticed the Langkawi assignment.

George and I first met seven years ago on an online dating site; housesitting reminded us of the dating process. Whether in search of a mate or a housesitting date, we highly recommend that you remain patient and wait for a good match. Don’t offer to housesit if you always dreamed of living in a specific location but the level of responsibility is not appropriate for what you want. If you have not cared for multiple pets or are unsure about being exceedingly remote, be honest with yourself and select assignments that fit in your comfort zone and are in line with your level of experience.

WATCH: Marvelous Malaysia

We recommend waiting for one or two posted jobs that pop out at you. Once you know you are interested in a particular assignment, use a standard prewritten letter listing your qualifications. When corresponding with homeowners, be sure to be professional, prompt and sincere. Be careful about what you place in your emails and your online profile; a recent book release entitled, “What Happens in Vegas, Stays Online!” is a reminder that digital memory is permanent.

What would our first housesitting assignment be like? We received a photo of the owners but knew very little about the house and cats. I was confident that it would all work out but looking back I realize that tips from two leading housesitting books would have helped clarify our job. Both books recommend attaining photos or a Skype tour of the property. The books also suggested ironing out all details in advance as part of an agreement letter or contract. Fortunately, Valerie and Donal were wonderful and treated us like special guests, even picking us up at the ferry and feeding us dinner before they departed.

When their car broke down on our tour of the area, we were all concerned. Together we problem solved and organized a taxi and a tow truck. Valerie left us money for the car repairs and the phone number of her favorite taxi driver. For the first ten days, we sat in the large garden and worked on our website, WeSaidGoTravel, and uploaded movies to our YouTube channel. The cats were fairly independent but watering the sizeable garden was more work than we had originally imagined. We also raked the property, moving wheelbarrows full of leaves to the nearby dumpsite.

We were surprised on December 31 when our idyllic retreat turned into a construction zone. The glass patio table was covered in dust. The air was full of diesel fumes and the noise of chirping birds in the quiet village was replaced with roaring lorries and trackers. Since we took the assignment as a respite from constant travel and as a way to focus on reaching our website related goals, this was a calamity. It became difficult to enjoy the property and complete our work objectives. After two days we figured out how to manage the situation but it was still not ideal. Remember that while traveling you must be flexible.

We agree with the authors of the book, Breakfree: The Ultimate Guide to Housesitting, that “Housesitting allows you to travel the world on your terms, and while this is a growing movement, not enough people are taking advantage of it to see the world – yet!” When my husband George counted the money in his wallet, we were shocked at how little we spent during our three weeks of housesitting. Normally we spend under $50 a day for the two of us, but while housesitting we spent so little that it felt like we made money.

Breakfree is a tremendous resource for both house sitters and homeowners. Complete sections of the book have specific tips and stories to help teach how housesitting can be done well and what we should do if something goes wrong. Whether you are a newbie or seasoned house sitter, you will gain insight on how to properly write profiles, make checklists, and put together housesitting agreements. The authors will even makeover your profile to help you get started! Throughout their book, they share many ups and downs of housesitting with detailed stories. As I read the book while we were housesitting, I could see how useful it would have been to read it before we made the agreement or arrived.

Dalene and Pete Heck’s “How to Become a House Sitter” is beautifully laid out; I enjoyed the landscape format and the design almost as much as the content. Traveling since 2009, they share how to make life on the road work out with housesitting as a main component. Their book is “an introduction to the wonderful world of house-sitting – for the aspiring house-sitter.” The chapter on things to consider will help you clarify all pertinent information prior to taking your next assignment. They share about profiles, interviews, contracts, communication and their personal experience. I plan to use their three-page checklist for any future housesitting assignments.

While in Langkawi, we enjoyed the beaches all around the island since the homeowners lent us their car. We also shared a New Year’s Eve picnic with friends of the homeowners and made significant progress toward attaining our personal and professional goals while we relaxed in the three-bedroom garden home.

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5 Reasons to Buy Insurance When Going on a Cruise

Booked your dream cruise and excited to go? Remember to take out travel insurance for a cruise holiday.

A cruise is undeniably a great vacation option as it normally offers a relaxed itinerary with many opportunities to explore different places during the stops on the way. More often than not, the cost of a cruise is all-inclusive – accommodation, meals, drinks and entertainment on board and land excursions, plus top-notch full service all the way – except the assurance that you will be adequately compensated in the event that something goes wrong!

Many travelers have the “it will never happen to me” mentality and will forego purchasing suitable insurance. But let’s face it – it IS a reality that the “chill out” trip you may be looking forward to can easily turn into a nightmare! Here are some scenarios which we may think are unlikely to occur:

1. The cruise is cancelled or cut short.

Mechanical problems or inclement weather can crop up prior to or during the cruise. Although the cruise company is expected to at least give refunds, the amount may be insufficient to cover the inconvenience and other costs you may incur as a consequence.

A concrete example is the Celebrity Century Mediterranean cruise in October 2010 which had to drop off its guests in Villefranche, France just two days into the cruise because its rudder was damaged. It so happened that there was a transportation strike in the country during that time such that the guests had a hard time going home from there.

It is also possible that your cruise is cancelled just a couple of days before scheduled departure because of a threatening hurricane, at which time you may have already flown in to the port of call, spent on hotel accommodation, arrangements for home or baby (or even pet) sitting while away, filed a leave of absence from work several months prior which you cannot recall (worse if unpaid), etc.

2. A family member or you get ill making it impossible to push thru with your trip.

Many have experienced this and most get the heartbreaking news that the cruise line is unable to refund what they paid for the trip because of cancellation restrictions adhered to in the cruise contract.

3. You get sick during the trip.

An illness can strike when you’d least expect, and it can come while you are on a cruise. If it turns out real bad that you need to be hospitalized, costs of bringing you to the mainland (by helicopter, if out at sea) and medical care in a foreign country can be prohibitive.

4. Your baggage is lost or stolen.

It can happen to the best of us, however careful we get. Imagine being stranded at the disembarkation port without your personal belongings, specially your travel documents?

5. Your pre- or post-cruise flight is delayed or cancelled.

In the instance that your flight is delayed or cancelled making you miss the cruise embarkation, it is highly probable you will not get a refund for your cruise investment. If, on the other hand, your return flight is delayed or cancelled, you may incur unforeseen additional expenses and possibly miss opportunities back home.

If by chance any of these do happen, you will be grateful you spared extra money for coverage to protect your investment in the trip (which can be your lifetime savings). If nothing happens to spoil your holiday, then be thankful for the peace of mind knowing you are fully protected, enabling you to sit back, relax and just enjoy! Isn’t that what a vacation is for in the first place?

Oh, and do make sure to check the print on your cruise contract to know what are covered and what you will need to get protection for.

*****

Photo credits:

Alaska Cruise: Travis Wise via Flickr

Relaxing During Cruise: eGuide Travel via Flickr

Cancelled Departure: Gilad Raphaelli via Flickr

Lost Luggage Tag: Rick McCharles via Flickr

Happy Couple on Cruise: Clintus via Flickr

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Finding Heart In Borneo, Indonesia

The rally had gone late. It was dark and raining hard.

Two tiny women crouched in the bow of the narrow canoe with a headlamp, peering into the darkness. Every few minutes one would holler and pound the side of the boat with an open palm, helping our host, who was driving, to avoid the logs surging downstream.

For some reason I kept imagining the boat tipping over, my laptop sizzling in the muddy water before being swallowed by a crocodile.

As the rain came down harder the boat began to fill with water and our host pulled over to the side of the river. The ladies flipped off the light, and we sat in total darkness listening to the rain and the rhythmic sloshing of the bailing bucket.

I sat staring ahead at the nothing where the river was, drenched and shivering for the first time in nearly a year of traveling in Southeast Asia. I wondered vaguely if we were stuck, but no one seemed terribly concerned about the rain, the inch of water in the boat, or the logs that still kept battering the hull with hollow thunks. The ladies chattered lazily, ripping leaves the size of television screens from the bank and using them as make shift umbrellas.

Then it hit me – while to me this was an insane adventure, a crazy travel story to tell my friends back home, it was an annoying yet normal commute to the people I was with. It was a sudden glimpse into another world that I didn’t think even existed anymore.

I’d landed in Borneo and been horrified by what I think I’d known but didn’t want to believe. It was a land largely denuded, riddled with environmental woes and concrete jungles that sprawled across what most of us still imagine as a verdant forest inhabited by pygmy elephants, tigers, orangutans, and a native people still living a simple, natural life.

I’d stumbled into a small pocket of this romanticized Borneo, yet even it was threatened.

Uma Bawang is a Kayan village up the Baram River in Sarawak, Malaysian Borneo. No roads connect them to the outside world, and they bathe, drink, fish, and move by the river, which might as well be their life blood.

The village got some notoriety in the 1980’s when they began blockading logging roads to protect swathes of traditional forest territory that the government had begun selling off to oil palm plantations and logging companies.

But on the day I arrived they had a larger problem – the construction of 13 mega dams that would flood over 2,000 kilometers of some of the world’s oldest rainforest, forcing their tribe and 10,000 other native peoples to abandon their homes and traditional territory.

Leaders of tribes in the area had conjoined in the larger town of Marudi, where my husband and I happened to bump into them on our less noble quest to find a few rare durian species. They invited us to visit, and that’s how, a few hours later, we found ourselves drenched and wondering how many crocodiles inhabited the river.

The morning dawned misty but dry, and we set off across the river to visit our host’s grandmother, who had moved there to sleep in a durian grove for the season, as her ancestors had done for the generations.

Durian trees live for centuries. As we stepped out of the boat, their enormous buttressed trunks towered above our heads, making me feel as if we’d been whisked into a fairy tale or suddenly shrunk.

Each tree is given the name of the person who planted it As we tread along the narrow trail our host pointed at each tree, calling it Aunty this and Grandpa that. Most of the people had died long before he was born. But as we got closer to the tiny shack, he pointed to a spindly tree his father had planted.

His grandmother sat relaxing in the shade of the bamboo roof, waving smoke from the damp fire with a woven paddle to keep away mosquitoes. Her bare feet were stretched out in front of her, and I could see that her scrawny legs were blackened with a fine network of tattoos.

Then there was a crash overhead, a cracking and banging as leaves and debris floated down from the mottled canopy. With a sudden thunk a durian hit the ground. The old woman gathered up her sarong and tottered out beneath the megalithic trees, grinning in toothless glee as she pulled the spiny fruit from the leaves.

I returned her grin. This was the Borneo I’d been unconsciously searching for, a place where wilderness not only co-existed alongside human civilization, but was an integral part of it.

We ate the durian.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Independence Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Hunza, Pakistan: The Lady Finger Peak

 

HOPPER GLACIER- Photo credits: Ahmad Mahboob

“Pakistan is one of the most plundered countries whose riches and potential yet awaits to be discovered”, remarked my driver-cum- guide as we took leave from Eagle nest- the hotel where I had spent the night. I had traveled all the way from Islamabad to Gilgit –Baltistan, the newly formed province in North Pakistan to view the famous high peaks rising above 6,000 meters.

Ever since my cousin Ahmad had returned from a trip to Hunza, his images capturing the picturesque beauty of this mountainous valley had mesmerized me and I had put Hunza on top of my “Must see” list. Among all, the “Lady Finger peak” seemed to attract me the most. However, I had to wait a couple of months till the temperatures up there were favorable for tourists. Hence it was the start of June when I finally decided to visit the Valley- perfect time to escape the scorching heat wave which hits the rest of the country. May till October marks the peak tourist season for Hunza because November on wards temperatures begin to fall below freezing point and heavy snow often restricts access to this enchanting valley.

Mountain climbing is not my cup of tea. As much as it fascinates me, it also exudes a feeling of fear and the most dreaded thought “What if I fell off” which has always kept me from giving it a try. It was my fifth day in the beautiful valley of Hunza, situated north/west of Hunza river at an elevation of about 2,500 meters.

This valley provides spectacular views of some of the most beautiful and magnificent mountains of the world, including the 7,788 meters high Rakaposhi, Hunza Peak and the famous 6,000 meters high Ladyfinger peak which drastically resembles a female finger.

The friendly locals and remarkable scenery provided by the surrounding mountains had made my trip to the famous tourist destination Altit quite memorable.

Altit Fort, Hunza – Photo credits: Nabil Arshad

Traditional dress and jewelry display at a local shop. Photo credits: Nabil Arshad

 

 

Traditional houses in Hunza Valley- Photo credits: Nabil Arshad

 

It was early morning and the sun rays had turned the snowy “Golden peak“ literally golden. “What a beautiful sight”, I exclaimed looking outside from the jeep’s window.

Enjoying the bumpy ride and nature’s exhibits from the jeep’s window I found myself playing with my wedding ring, twisting it around the middle finger.

“Lady Finger peak, hmm how interesting”, I thought.

I was munching on some sweet and sour dried apricots that I had bought along with some mix dry fruit last evening from the Bazaar. The market also had a huge display of cherries, plum, peaches and grapes- the specialty of Hunza valley and I planned to buy some on my last trip to the market before returning for folks back home. Our jeep was now taking a sharp turn along an uneven bumpy road.

GOLDEN PEAK- Photo credits: Ahmad Mahboob

The driver disrupted my thoughts by adding a lovely fact to my knowledge,

“Madam Do you know that the literacy rate of Hunza valley is above 95% and all children have access to High school?” My face beamed with pride to hear this wonderful statistic.

“Now that’s something to be proud of”, I replied gleefully.

No doubt I had found the people very friendly and hospitable but being part of a country where few eyebrows are raised at child labor, this happy news really made my day. The bumpy ride had finally come to an end. We had safely reached our destiny. I could see the real thing right in front of me. Unlike other peaks the Lady Finger peak hardly had any snow on its apex due to the sharp pinnacle.

The pebbles crunched under my joggers as I jumped off the 4×4. And then for a couple of moments I just stood there, speechless! There was a strange silence in the air. Glad to have my Reeboks on, I stood on a ridge and took a deep breath. Nature had its own beauty even in solitude and I wanted to savor the whole experience.

“Hellooooooo” I shouted on top of my lungs.

The stark silence broke. “Hellooooo”, my voice echoed back!

It seemed as if the rocky mountains were about to pierce the sky.  I stood in awe devouring the splendor of the scenery spread before me and the power of its Creator. That moment answered many questions that had been in my mind since a long time. Had n’t my entire life revolved around the word “ME”? MY plans, MY decisions, MY strength! My eyes fathomed the size of the gigantic mountains surrounding me and then I looked down at my own being- so tiny, frail and utterly helpless.

“Who am I after all?” I found my heart questioning myself and this time the reply was quite different than it always had been.

“Nothing!”  a single word said it all.

Lady finger peak – Photo credits: Ahmad Mahboob

 

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The Potters Village in Mexico

The Potters Village

The two-lane paved road rises and falls, twists and turns like a dangling rope through the rugged Chihuahua hill country. “Amazing that one of Mexico’s most famous potters lives out here,” says my friend Dick Davis.

Shimmering in the stark desert light is the village of Mata Ortiz, the home of Mexico’s renowned potter Juan Quezada. In the mid-day heat, the pueblo is deserted except for a few stray dogs roaming the dirt-rutted streets. Old adobe walls and ramshackle wooden fences are laced with clotheslines of brightly colored garments drying against a brown desert backdrop.

Quezada’s modest gallery is on the corner of the main street across from an abandoned railroad tract. As we enter, he breezes in from the side room. Dressed in a faded tan cowboy hat, of medium height and bantam weight, he looks as fit as an Oklahoma rodeo wrangler, despite being in his early seventies. His rugged, suntanned face exudes a quiet dignity and purposeful curiosity.

The pale blue adobe walls in the front room are lined with ollas and vases, glazed in a rainbow of rust-red, brown, and eggshell white hues and painted with intricate, geometric designs. I am mesmerized by their spiral, thin-walled shapes and meticulously painted and etched patterns.

Outside, the heat glimmers over the parched, dust-colored land. Nothing seems to be

alive except patches of creosote and agave clinging to the desert’s emptiness. How could such incredible artistic beauty come to exist in such a remote, hardscrabble place?

The freedom and joy of discovery, I begin to realize, lies not in seeing new places, but in seeing things in new ways. The desert, I soon learn, is not empty but full of beauty.

Quezada grew up poor, leaving school at twelve to gathered firewood and herd sheep in the

hills above the village. While gathering firewood, he stumbled on some shards of pottery in a mountain cave, a burial site belonging to an ancient indigenous people called the Paquimé who had lived in this region from 1200 to 1450 A.D.

“The first time I saw those pieces,” Juan tells us in Spanish, “I said, ‘I have found a hidden treasure.’ I knew that the ancient ones must have found the materials here.” Over many years, he experimented with different clays, pigments, drawing and firing techniques to produce ollas or pots with the ancient culture’s iconography and design.

“Nobody taught me. There were no potters then. The village was poor,ˮ he continues.

The story could have ended here, lost in the buried memory of a poor village, but it didn’t because of Juan’s artistic genius, obsessive curiosity, and an unlikely friendship with the American art dealer and anthropologist Spencer MacCallum that would change the fortune of the little town and shape an artistic legacy whose reach is still unknown.

Like a tale out of the Wizard of Oz, it began in 1976 when MacCallum stopped off at a second-hand shop in a New Mexico border town where he bought three unsigned pots. Intrigued by their intricate beauty, he embarked on an adventure south that would take him to Mata Ortiz and the unknown potter. Over the next six years, MacCallum provided Juan with money to work at his craft full-time, while organizing exhibits in the United States to premiere it. “His arrival was a gift from God, a miracle,” says Juan.

Mata Ortiz today is the center of a bustling ceramic cottage industry. About one-fourth of its 2,600 inhabitants earn their livelihoods as potters—many of them trained by Quezada himself.

The homes, some humble brick adobes and others larger cinder-block buildings, radiate with an infectious warmth and vitality to the craft. Pots and vases line oilcloth-covered tables. I look over the shoulders of men and women as they shape, polish and paint at tiny sunlit work stations. They place a single coil of clay atop a plaster mold, and then by hand work the clay upwards to form their thin-walled bowls, jars, and pots.

A piece of hacksaw blade is used to smooth the surface. Hand-made kilns or just an inverted galvanized bucket buried in dried cow chips are used to fire the pots. Brushes to paint the long flowing geometric patterns are made from children’s hair.

Today, one of Quezada’s pots can sell for thousands of dollars. He now owns the land where he used to gather firewood. It has a rich vein of white clay, which he shares with other village potters. “Everywhere the sun shines is for everyone,” he says.

Walking outside the village, Juan points to a thin seam of chalky white clay; at another location to a pile of cottonwood bark once used to fire the clay. I begin to see beneath the bone-dry landscape, the desert’s possibilities discovered by Juan and other villagers. The Chihuahua Desert’s beauty is in its austerity: the searing heat, the stark desert light, and the rich caches of clay that Quezada recognized as the pueblo’s miracle.

About the Author:

Victor A. Walsh’s travel and feature stories and literary essays have appeared in the Christian Science Monitor, San Antonio Express-News, Austin American Statesman, San Jose Mercury News, Arizona Daily Star, Literary Traveler, Rosebud, Coast To Coast, Desert Leaf, Irish America, Sunset, and VIA. He spends his time when he’s productively unemployed prowling forgotten or unusual destinations looking for stories that connect a place and its people to their remembered past.

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