“Shark!”
I was facedown in the water, mesmerized by schools of surgeonfish weaving their way among the rocks, yet the word registered loud and clear. I looked up and saw Coen waving frantically, pointing to something underneath his body. I swam towards him, careful not to make any sudden movements that might scare the fish away. Continue reading
A breeze carried the sound of squeaking hinges and creaking wooden panels. In the overwhelming silence of the desert the slamming of a metal roof plate echoed as if a gun had been fired. When listening carefully I heard voices from the past. Voices that told stories about promised fortunes and working yourself to death under the scorching sun of the Atacama Desert – one of the driest deserts on earth and, around 1900, home to Chile’s nitrate boom. Continue reading
I picked up the thermos and filled up the gourd with mate, a popular herbal tea in Uruguay. It’s a drink you share with others, so I handed the gourd to Coen, who took one last photograph before he sat down next to me. We were sitting on a low wall along the Río de la Plata, the river that divides Uruguay and Argentina. The sun slowly sank into the river and sets the sky aflame. Everything was perfect: my company, my drink, the sunset and Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay’s most scenic village. Continue reading
It all started with a photo: a beautiful photograph of an old wooden altar featuring an angel killing a devil, painted in blue tinges. Some of the paint had chipped off and the wood was damaged, and it was clearly a piece from colonial times. The accompanying text told me the photo was taken in the Church of San José in Valenzuela. I asked the caretaker of the museum for directions and my partner Coen and I were on our way. Continue reading
It was Sunday, late afternoon. The weekend vacationers from Manaus had returned home and peace reigned once more over the small tourist town of Novo Airão. I was the only one to go swimming with dolphins – what a stroke of luck. Continue reading
We stared at pieces of plastic strewn around our campsite. Chunks of bread lie here and there but we gathered two of our three loaves had gone. We were aghast.
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Herons skim the water, their white bodies reflecting in the inky-black water smooth as glass. Green kingfishers nosedive from branches and resurface with a thrashing fish. Roseate spoonbills scratch around in shallow waters, and jacanas do what Jesus Birds do: they walk on the water. Continue reading
Living on an island of reeds, in a house of reeds, sleeping on a bed of reeds, cooking on the fuel of reeds, and fishing from a boat of reeds? How intriguing is that? Please meet the Uros People of Peru. Continue reading
Living-root bridges? Bridges made of natural materials that last hundreds of years? Yes, they exist, and only in one place on earth: India’s northeastern state of Meghalaya, and more specifically around the village of Cherrapunjee – which also happens to be the wettest place on earth. Continue reading
There wasn’t just one stone – there were two. Which one did the tiger jump on when crossing this gorge? Tourism was booming in the Tiger Leaping Gorge, which made me wonder why there wasn’t a panel pointing out which stone was linked to the legend of the leaping tiger. Continue reading
We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open. ~Jawaharial Nehru
It’s 2am and we’re up and about to climb a 3248-meter-high mountain: the Chicken Foot Mountain, as is the translation of Jizu Shan. By leaving at this time we will be ahead of the crowd of visitors that will start climbing in an hour or so, and we’ll have the peace and quiet of a silent night. Continue reading
Booted Rackettail
Purple-Crowned Fairies, Green-Crowned Wood Nymphs and Violet-Tailed Sylphs were fluttering all around me. Had I just landed in an elf forest? It most certainly felt like it. Surrounded by a towering wilderness of forested mountains with gray clouds closing in or receding just as suddenly, the area felt mystical enough to be one. Continue reading
The reason to drive to Usuki was to see its famous stone Buddha statues. But on our arrival we first got a lesson in history: it was here where the first Dutch ship reached Japan, in 1600. A map at the tourist information promised more good things, and so we found a place to camp – in the parking lot of the tourist information – and explored town. Continue reading
Two men with furrowed faces under wide sombreros enter the arena. Callused hands leisurely hold the reins of the horses and short ponchos striped in natural colors fall around the cowboys’ shoulders. A gate is opened, a young bull set loose. Let the game begin! Continue reading
For a moment I am caught off guard and almost fall overboard. Piranha jaws sharply tug at the chunk of fat I had fastened on the hook. Pablo, my host, guide and friend helps me pull in my line until the feisty creature plops on the bottom of the boat in fluttering spasms. Continue reading