Destinations // Where are the Wild Things by Destinations Publishing

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OCT-DEC, 2015 NZ. $9.90 AUS. $9.90

LIVING LIKE A W H E RE A RE T H E

local wild things

Destinations represents a new breed of travel magazine. In print and digital form, we connect divergent people, places, cultures, lifestyles, and perspectives through intelligent, thought-provoking written and visual storytelling. Our mission is to inspire, challenge, and inform, providing a compelling medium for global engagement. We create goals to aspire to, and entice those who have an innate curiosity for the diverse world in which we live.

This edition takes its inspiration from Maurice Sendakâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s iconic childrenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s book, Where The Wild Things Are to examine our relationship with the big wide, wild world and its non-human inhabitants. We consider the roles travel, wilderness and wildness play in our imagination and cultural expression, and explore destinations that fuel this. Humans who have chosen to depart from civilisation in various ways are profiled, as are a range of incredible creatures that are swimming against the tide of human encroachment. The taming of the wild is also addressed, along with a range of destinations that allow us to let loose, including those ideal for (re)igniting the spark of romance. Following the bookâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s narrative arc, in our specialist cruise, island and epicurean sections we set sail around the world, discover remote island destinations, and rejoice in coming home to some good old-fashioned comfort food.

OCT-DEC 2015

WHAT’S INSIDE?

50.

76.

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE SPECIAL FEATURE

28. Unmasked A journey across the many cultures and events for which the wearing of masks facilitates social cohesion and individual escapism.

74. An Alien Encounter From the vampire squid to the okapi and panda ant — we get a glimpse at some creatures stranger than fiction.

36. Abandoned Destinations Human beings have managed to inhabit a staggering range of habitats across the globe, but not all attempts have proven successful in the long run.

88. Alive In The Amazon The Amazon is packed with life-threatening creatures great and small, making a deep jungle trek a journey not for the faint-hearted.

48. Wide Wild World From rainforests and great plains to one of the most terrifying volcanoes on earth — we explore some of the world’s wildest landscapes.

94. Making The Connection Wolves are making a return to the not-so-wild west: we venture to a centre near LA that is helping with their recovery.

64. Departure From Civilisation We profile several individuals who have chosen quite different motivations, means and environments to retreat from civilisation and its expectations.

102. The Greatest Show We trace the evolution of circus over the last 250 years, from the display of all things ‘wild’ to a kaleidoscope of theatrical performance.

70. A Chat With Carine McCandless In 1992, Carine McCandless’ brother, Chris, set out into the Alaskan wilderness and paid the ultimate price. We reflect on his legacy.

110. Discovering Daintree We uncover what it takes to be zookeeper for a day before channelling Tarzan with some ‘jungle surfing’ in the Daintree Rainforest.

120.

130. COLUMNS

116. Uncamping Camping used to be about carrying our home on our backs and roughing it; well, perhaps not any more...

18. Talk Travel Contributors share their views on the ‘wild things’ of our world, including favourite creatures, wildest experiences, and the role of imagination in travel.

118. Survival In The Serengeti A Maasai warrior on guard, silver service and flush toilets — seeking the ‘big five’ in the southern Serengeti isn’t what it used to be.

26. People Going Places: Julia deVille A Melbourne-based jeweller, taxidermist and artist preserves the bodies of animals, adorning them with jewels in a celebration of life.

128. Burning Man 196. Bazaar Part festival, part circus, part art show, part pilgrimage, News, events and promotions from the international part Halloween, and part Mad Max – it could only be travel industry. Burning Man in the Nevada Desert. 138. A Romantic Rendezvous The fairytale is alive and well: fantasy destinations Croatia, Quebec City and the Bahamas offer inspiration for lovers looking to get away from it all. 142. Married To The Maldives We discover a series of island resorts that take ‘escape’ to new levels, providing the perfect opportunity to reconnect with that special someone.

OCT-DEC 2015

WHAT’S INSIDE?

CRUISE JOURNALS

156. Max Cumming Cruising the world for a living might seem a dream, but the advent of technology and a new era of pirates are altering the experience. 160. Cruising New Zealand Seeing one’s home country from the languid decks of a cruise ship should be a breeze, but what if both the wind and the seas are rising?

156. ISLANDS ON OUR MIND

166. An Island To Oneself We explore the enduring allure of island isolation in out-there environs, from Iceland, and the Galapagos Islands, to Newfoundland and Easter Island. 178. An Island Refuge We delight in the Andaman Resort on the northern coastline of Langkawi and contemplate the plight of the region’s ‘wilderness’.

166. EPICUREAN TRAVELLER

188. Giving The Wine Some Air Wine on most airlines is taken for granted, but there is far more to the selection and consumption of wine at 9000 metres above sea level. 192. Comfort Foods Part of the pleasure of travel — and coming home — is the appeal of cuisine: we present a selection of favourite international ‘comfort foods’.

192.

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Touch down and you’ll discover the beating heart of Polynesia. Sure Samoa has all the mod cons you’d expect today. But it also has something completely unique. Fa’aSamoa, our way of life!

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Publisher Stephen Brown Editor Rowena Bahl Associate Editor Dominique van de Klundert Cruise Editor Michael Hooper Editor-at-large Glenn A. Baker Graphic Designer Tristan Lewis Production Executive Anita Sanghera Contributors Chloe Skeggs, Elicia Edijanto, Christina Huntington, Thai Neave, Hermine Banks, Lauren Owens, Tudor Clee, Dev Capey, Sally Blyth, Nick Walton, Zara Bowens, Annalee Jones, Nicole Gray, Jemma Smith, David Lazar, Sarah Prikryl, Nico DeBarmore Proofreader Anna Varghese Account Executive Mark Hobday Quote Title Page Illustrations Elicia Edijanto Printed By Image Centre Distribution Print: Netlink, Shout Media, Admail Online: PressReader, Zinio, Magzter Subscriptions subs@destinationsmagazine.com Editorial Enquiries editorial@destinationsmagazine.com Destinations Publishing Ltd Destinations is a registered trademark of Destinations Publishing Ltd. Destinations publishes four editions each year. The contents of all are copyright and cannot be reproduced without the consent of the editor. Destinations Publishing Ltdâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s acceptance of all contributed material, words, images and illustrations, is on the basis that these will be used internationally in all forms of the magazineâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s distribution and marketing, be that print, digital or social networking.All articles, images and illustrations submitted will remain open for reading, reference and retrieval without time limit through all forms of distribution. All material is received on this basis only. Contact Physical: Level 4, 156 Parnell Road, Parnell, Auckland 1151 Postal: PO Box 137-067, Parnell, Auckland 1052 Email: mail@destinationsmagazine.com Phone: +64 9 377 1234 Website: destinationsmagazine.com Social: facebook.com/destinationpublishing | twitter.com/destytravelmag Instagram/destinations_mag

On the cover: Eye and Stripes Photo by Mario Moreno Read: Survival in the Serengeti on page 120

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OCT-DEC 2015

16 / Our Word

EDITOR’S WORD

Where are the wild things? I cannot seem to find them anywhere. But then I look again, and see them staring at me. Our interpretation of ‘wild’ can be anything we make of it: it can be a wild night out with friends, dancing the night away at our local; a week camping in the Nevada desert at Burning Man with societal expectations dropped at entry; or a few nights in the Bahamas walking the beach holding our lover’s hand. It can be surviving in the Amazon with only the skills of a knot-tying Boy Scout, deciding to depart civilisation to live in an Ewok-inspired village in the middle of the Costa Rican rainforest, or engaging in close encounters with primates, lizards and leopards in Malaysia. All these elements and experiences that make up our idealistic conceptions of ‘the wild’ come from one place — and that is nature. The one, true ‘wild’, the place where dreams are born, the place whence we take our inspiration when our ‘civilised’ life just doesn’t cut it. The troubling thing is, man’s muse is disappearing at a staggering rate — and once she’s gone, with her will go our last link to a reality not wholly man-made. This edition of Destinations takes readers through our wide wild world in a travel translation of Maurice Sendak’s iconic book, Where The Wild Things Are: a text that speaks to our complex relationship with the ‘wild’ — one of fascination, emulation, and control — along with our desire to escape the confines of our everyday life, and the comfort of coming home. We discover vast landscapes, strange creatures, and dynamic interpretations of the ‘wild’ — whatever that may be.

Rowena Bahl — Editor The Idealist

ABOVE. The deep sea provides a look into some of the most unique cases of evolution. It reveals strange creatures that adapt and survive in extreme environments. Discover this weird and wonderful world on page 76

OCT-DEC 2015

PUBLISHER’S WORD

17 / Our Word

I was on my way to the island of Langkawi, off western Malaysia, and was sitting on Singapore’s promenade. Behind me the hectic bustle of construction crews marked the imminent arrival of the Formula One circus, while overhead the city’s tiered rows of skyscrapers were immersed in a thick soup of grey signalling the annual funeral pyre for yet more of Sumatra’s rainforest. I couldn’t help but ponder just what will be left of Southeast Asia’s wild places and animals in years to come. Not much, if the leaden haze dominating Singapore’s skyline was any guide. Ecologists refer to the emergence of a sixth mass extinction on Earth, the first implemented by a single species. When we have lost the animals and habitats that still tentatively linger as touchstones for our own heritage and evolution, will it be enough to have the latest iPhone, BMW or tickets to a Formula One race? Indeed, just how truly sad will it be when there are no places to visit or contemplate that truly have a sense of the ‘wild’ — of being untrammelled by humankind, and of still offering a challenge to the adventurous at heart and inquisitive of spirit? As I looked towards the artificial rainforest of Singapore’s Gardens by the Bay, juxtaposed against the spectacular Marina Sands Hotel and Casino, I was more aware than ever before that part of the very essence of being human will disappear with the loss of our truly wild world — a world that can never be replaced by sanitised, Disneyesque recreations or high-tech surrogates.

Stephen Brown — Publisher The Sophist

ABOVE. Stephen visits Langkawi island in Malaysia. Read story on page 178

OCT-DEC 2015

18 / Talk Travel

TALK TRAVEL

Michael Hooper The Wine and Food Guru

Christina Huntington The Contemplator

Elicia Edijanto The Imaginarium

Chloe Skeggs The Thrill-Seeker

How have your expectations of travel destinations been formed, and to what degree have they lived up to what you imagined?

For my first trip overseas I sold everything. The feeling of having only what lies ahead was scary but liberating. Travel is all about the next revelation and always facing forward. Imagination is about what we have yet to see.

The best experiences are the unexpected chance encounters I could never plan for, so I try to travel without expectations and follow my instincts — which leads to unique experiences that cannot be found in a book.

A lot of my travel expectations are formed by my fondness of wild things and outdoor activities. There are quite few places that live up to my imagination, but New Zealand is one of them. I’m looking forward to exploring more wild things on the South Island.

The stories of friends and family, and increasingly, Instagram and blogs tend to form my opinions, but they never quite capture the ‘feel’ of a place. The atmosphere, the smells, the people — to me, that is the magic we can only experience first-hand.

Which endangered species' extinction would sadden you the most?

The bumblebee. Like us, its ability to fly defies its natural limitations. We need it.

Elephants. I visited the oldest living elephant in India and it was profound. Much is written about ‘the wisdom of elephants’, but this cannot be truly understood until standing in their majestic presence.

I can’t really choose one, because I would be equally saddened if any of them became extinct.

Chimpanzees. How we could let a species that shares 98 percent of our genes become endangered and suffer such cruel treatment is beyond me.

What is the 'wildest' destination you have been to and how did it qualify for placement in that category? With wind chill the temperature is -50 degrees Celsius. North of the Arctic Circle I am speeding up a frozen river, following my guide towards a native Sami village where a hot knife to the back of the neck is used to banish any evil spirits that might have hitched a lift on the snow bike.

What is the 'wildest' destination you have been to and how did it qualify for placement in that category? Panna National Park in India, where wild Bengal tigers and leopards roam their natural habitat. We received training for walking back to our lodging at night — in case we were being hunted.

What is the 'wildest' destination you have been to and how did it qualify for placement in that category? Definitely, Mongolia. It's what my imagination of a 'wild' place would look like in real life. The vast grassland, wild horses, and feeling the cold air while sleeping in a yurt: while that doesn’t sound comfortable, and even though I was miles away from home, I was happy.

What is the 'wildest' destination you have been to and how did it qualify for placement in that category? Casablanca. I remember our taxi driver stopping in the middle of a busy intersection and getting out of the vehicle, just to have a casual conversation with another driver.

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OCT-DEC 2015

20 / Talk Travel

TALK TRAVEL

Dominque van de Klundert The Philosopher

Lauren Owens The Narrator

Thai Neave The Thought-Provoker

Hermine Banks The Coversationalist

How have your expectations of travel destinations been formed, and to what degree have they lived up to what you imagined?

Photography, definitely — but its conventions haven’t changed much since the technology was invented. Films and books, for a more subjective viewpoint. The reality is always different, and always better — in the sense that it is my inimitable experience.

Tales from other travellers and reading travel books (On the Road and Walk in the Woods are favourites). Travel always exceeds expectations — the highs and lows are more intense than can be predicted.

When I was 9 my mother yanked me out of school and took me through Europe in an old VW Kombi van. For a year we had few plans, even less money, and no idea what we were really doing. Travelling like that made me expect the unknown and embrace the uncertainty of adventure.

The one lesson I have learnt while travelling is to always have an open mind and that there is beauty in every place we visit, especially if one is willing to scratch beneath the surface. There are destinations I have travelled to that I have wholly not expected to enjoy and ended up absolutely loving.

Which endangered species' extinction would sadden you the most? Though technically only ‘vulnerable’, I’d be devastated to see the Komodo dragon disappear: a living reminder of all the other ancient megafauna lost over millennia, while at the same time having this strange co-existence with humanity. What is the 'wildest' destination you have been to and how did it qualify for placement in that category? I’m not sure it’s possible to have a truly ‘wild’ experience. Facing elements or isolation — kayaking between small Tongan islands, clambering up mountains in the Jordanian desert — feels like more of a civilising of the wild.

Which endangered species' extinction would sadden you the most? Bluefin tuna. Our attitude towards large-scale commercial fishing is slow to change, even when the ripple effect is noticeable.

Which endangered species' extinction would sadden you the most? Snow leopard: the most majestic of creatures.

What is the 'wildest' destination you have been to and how did it qualify for placement in that category?

Pantanal in Brazil — the largest wetland in the world. Our days were spent tiptoeing past caimans and piranha fishing with homemade wooden poles. It was one of the best up-close experiences with nature and our tour guides were cowboys (one got a bit too close to a baby caiman).

India. It's another planet, right here on Earth.

Which endangered species' extinction would sadden you the most? The African elephant. Will we humans never learn? These beautiful animals are still being poached for their ivory tusks. What is the 'wildest' destination you have been to and how did it qualify for placement in that category? The Daintree Forest: a 180 million year old forest with prehistoric animals — need I say more?

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The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind and another... His mother called him “WILD THING!”

OCT-DEC 2015

PEOPLE GOING PLACES Words by Dominique van de Klundert

Taxidermy artist and jeweller Julia deVille finds beauty in places many would consider morbid. Her interest in taxidermy was piqued “the moment I discovered it was something you could ‘do’.” As a teenager, deVille “proudly displayed” on her bedroom wall an eight point stag head mount, acquired from an antique shop. Trying to find a taxidermy mentor at around age 16, however, she found “no one would take me seriously.”

26 / People Going Places

Growing up in Wellington, New Zealand before making the move to Melbourne, Australia, deVille tried on a number of creative endeavours for size — including fashion design and shoemaking — before discovering jewellery. From there, one aspect of her path was set: she recalls, “I knew on the first day of my first class that I wanted to make jewellery for the rest of my life.” Fortunately, deVille’s shift to Melbourne also brought a meeting with a retired taxidermist, who offered to ‘show her the ropes’. Learning both skills — jewellery and taxidermy — alongside one another, their integration came naturally. Birds and mice — found dead locally — “lent themselves well to the scale of jewellery,” deVille recalls. “I would add little diamonds for eyes and give the mice silver tails, and it just grew from there.” The two practices “feed into each other in a very intimate way.” DeVille “will often make a decoration for an animal and realise that it would make a great necklace, and vice versa.” Further, the addition of jewellery materials to her animals “is a question of preciousness: what do we value? Most people consider diamonds and gold precious, but for me the life of the animal is far more valuable,” deVille explains. There is a strong ethical dimension to the work: deVille follows a vegan lifestyle, and only uses animals that have died of natural causes. In demonstrating animals’ beauty, she hopes to allow people to get “in touch with their true loving nature — where they do not want to cause harm to other sentient beings.” Rather than taking a didactic approach, however, deVille explains that the goal is to help people “make educated decisions that are aligned with their true beliefs and values.” Some of the pieces are quite direct about the way animals are utilised by humans — being mounted as trophies, served up on a platter, or hitched to a cart — while others draw more on the imagination. DeVille takes inspiration from ancient myth, particularly tales of the underworld, with her innocent-looking, saddled creatures referencing the non-judgemental ferrymen who take souls to Hades. The Victorian aesthetic also comes strongly into play. The artist notes, “I just love the Victorians. What a bunch of kooks! I love their aesthetic, their almost fashionable acceptance of death and the bizarre contradictions in the way they lived their lives.” Though the era’s penchant for the hunting of endangered species for sport and trophies does not resonate with deVille’s personal values quite so much, even this “is all part of their eccentric charm in a funny sort of way.”

OPPOSITE TOP. Julia deVille Photo by Luzena Adams

OPPOSITE BOTTOM. Cookies & Cream, 2014 (chick, onyx, antique ice cream scoop; 8 x 6 x 28 cm) Photo by Terence Brogue

BELOW. Lamentation, 2012 (Stillborn lamb, rubies, uncut diamonds, silver plate platter, glass, sterling silver, gold plate; 76 x 46 x 9 cm) Photo by Terence Brogue

27 / People Going Places

Of the discomfort her work can generate in this day and age, deVille reflects, “death is taboo in our society unfortunately.” Having been “lucky” to be raised in a family that faced death headon, deVille learned “a valuable lesson about death at a very young age… so death is not confronting to me. It is beautiful and quiet.” As such, she says, “I want to lovingly show people the softness of death.” In addition to facing mortality in a general sense, deVille suggests that “people are also confronted by seeing the animals that they eat, in full form before them, instead of... neat little cuts on polystyrene trays.” Regardless, the controversy that her work can cause as a result of raising such issues has been “highly beneficial,” with the attention that it generates providing deVille “more opportunities to speak about my beliefs and philosophies.” The work has obviously struck a chord, with deVille scooping up a number of grants and awards over the past decade, and her pieces are now held in prestigious public and private collections, both

within Australia and internationally. In relation to the notion of the ‘wild’, deVille reflects that, “in a literal sense, taxidermy is taming something wild.” It means we are able to “get up close and personal” with creatures we may not be able to approach in everyday life — or at least not in the same way. However, she notes, “as with the taming of anything wild, something is always lost. Taxidermy can only ever be a shadow of the beauty that is a living creature. You cannot capture the essence of life, except by its blindingly obvious absence.” Her concerns also have an ecological basis as, on a grand scale, “our society has become masters of taming the wild for personal gain, often with little awareness of what we are meddling with.” DeVille argues that the consequences of the “collective atrocities” being perpetrated today go “far beyond our comprehension.” Fortunately, we have the artwork of Julia deVille to shine a light on the small losses, so we might contemplate the larger ones as well.

28 / Where The Wild Things Are

UNMASKED For purpose or pleasure, from tribal to theatrical, masks can conceal or reveal emotion. They offer protection, enable disguise and encourage interaction.

WORDS BY SALLY BLYTH

29 / Where The Wild Things Are

TITLE PAGE. Yup’ik Mask, ca. 1900, Kuskokwim, Alaska (painted wood, leather ties; height 101 cm). Fondation Beyeler, Riehen/Basel Beyeler Collection

30 / Where The Wild Things Are

Photo by Robert Bayer/Basel

Masks can disguise and deceive, charm and captivate, entertain and entice. What makes masks so enigmatic? Is it the element of disguise and intrigue, or a connotation of other-worldliness? Perhaps it is their alignment with ritual and deep tradition. In any case, there is no doubt that with their ability to enable coquetry along with a sense of anonymity, masks facilitate the chance to escape, to take on another persona.

masks so no one could read their facial expressions. Criminals would wear them so they could not be identified. Noblemen who had lost their money and fallen from grace could beg on the streets behind a mask and no one would know who they were. On the other hand, servants wearing a mask could be mistaken for a nobleman. The practice of disguise and deceit was alive and well in Venice.

As a mask artisan, I have been running workshops and creating masks for clients around the world for more than a decade. It is an arena full of joy and creativity, dealing with such pressing dilemmas as which mask to choose, or which colours to wear to a much-anticipated party. Character, glamour, ethnic, wall-art, and theatrical masks — creating them is all in a wonderful day’s work for me.

CONCEALMENT & REVELATION

I was first drawn to masks on a visit to Venice in the 1980s. Not only did I fall in love with the best city in the world in which to get lost, the beautiful mask shops around every corner captivated me and triggered my passion for all things masquerade. This love grew exponentially during subsequent visits to Venice, when I observed and absorbed various techniques and styles that I carried back to my home studio to adapt in my own way.

DISGUISE & DECEIT Masks have been worn in cultures throughout the world for thousands of years, but perhaps never with such fervent pageantry as in Venice. Masquerade balls were particularly popular amongst the hedonistic upper classes during the 15th century Renaissance period. Flamboyant and fabulously extravagant occasions, the balls allowed masked guests to dress so as to be unidentifiable, and part of the game was to work out one another’s identities. Wearing a mask meant people could behave in ways they might not otherwise. One’s identity could be changed dramatically: emotions concealed, character transformed. Gamblers wore

One Venetian mask that acts as a veil with a difference is the rather odd Moretta mask. 'Moretta', meaning ‘small and dark’, describes this mask most aptly. It is small, round and black, with circular eyeholes and no mouth. It is worn only by women, often with a veil as a shroud. The Moretta kept the beauty of feminine features hidden. It also kept women quiet, as the mask was held in place by a button clenched between the front teeth. Its plain design was meant to conceal emotions. However, despite its rather unflattering appearance, this concealment was seen as a means of enticement. The mask could be removed quickly by releasing the button to reveal the woman beneath. However, as things gradually got rather out of hand, an anti-masquerade movement emerged within Venice. Laws were introduced banning the wearing of masks, with heavy penalties inflicted on those who broke the law. Today, however, this heritage is celebrated at the Venice Carnivale, a well-known and illustrious event with a special history, lavish costumes and a rich sense of mystery. Being part of it one day is on my bucket list. A decorative mask can be a glamorous dress-up; a little frivolous, or even daring. Hiding behind a mask in this way allows the wearer the sense of escapism the early Venetians enjoyed. It is a way of being who we might want to be, or who we know we are not. As a means of disguise, rendering anonymous the person beneath, this may

bring a sense of comfort for the wearer, though it may equally be unsettling for the observer. THEATRE & ENTERTAINMENT Used on stage, masks can portray moods and characters and bring an element of fun and intrigue. One of the earliest uses of masks for drama was in ancient Greece, in the 6th century B.C. Masks from that period generally incorporated over-exaggerated facial features and enclosed the entire head. These characteristics created a resonance chamber for the voice of the actor, allowing audiences in the huge amphitheatres to hear them more clearly. The ancient art of Japanese Noh theatre, which is still alive today, is considered a highly refined means of artistic expression using masks, movement and lighting to convey subtleties of emotion and character. Many types of masks are also used in traditional Italian Commedia dell’Arte. Whilst this is a highly structured art form, with characters and situations precisely defined, there is also plenty of scope for actors to embellish their parts in the moment. It is all about constant surprise. Cut to more modern times, and masks used in movie-making continue to bring characters to life, with such examples as Darth Vader and the iconic mask from Scream both instantly recognisable and emblematic of a meta-narrative on the nature of masks themselves.

PROTECTION & PROVISION From primitive to modern times, wearing a safety mask has served to protect the wearer from physical or spiritual harm. Medieval armour incorporated a protective helmet with facial covering and strategically placed slits to see through, while gas masks used in wartime saved many lives. Practical masks are used regularly today with safety in mind: think

As travellers, we journey to far off lands and, in effect, we encompass all that mask-wearing entails: as we discover new corners of the world, we do so largely anonymously.

However, masks are also used to guard against misfortune from supernatural spirits that the wearer or their community might fear. Masks that are believed to have such protective qualities are often in the figure of a god or mythical being, sometimes with a grotesque appearance so as to frighten away evil spirits. An elaborate and fearsome mask coupled with aggressive gestures and threatening sounds is indeed frightening and mesmerising.

HEALING & CONNECTION Masks are often linked to the great milestones of life such as coming of age, seasons, and illness or death. These are all times of transformation, and wearing masks for such events is ingrained in many cultures. In African tribes, initiation ceremonies are common as boys reach adulthood, while for women, masks may be worn as part of fertility rituals. Ceremonies designed to give thanks for the land and to ensure the abundance of future harvest can incorporate the wearing of masks. Some people believe that by wearing a specific mask they might connect themselves with ancestral or other unearthly spirits. There is a belief that putting on such a mask can provide a

link between the living and the dead, the natural and supernatural. Having the power to heal as well as harm, masks have been sought after to cure illness, and wearing a mask is often accompanied by the beat of a medicine drum, chanting or music. In Iroquois society, masks decorated with horsehair, to represent a spirit with the power to cure disease were used for healing. Burial masks played an important role in ancient times. Placing a mask over a dead personâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s face as a preserver of personality was common in many communities. As a mark of respect and honour, especially for someone of important social standing in society, the mask would preserve and protect during transition to the afterworld where its power would transform them into a god or protective spirit. Such funerary masks were prized. Without doubt, there is a highly spiritual connection when masks are used in these ways. The Romans also collected and displayed the death masks of their ancestors as an important part of the affirmation and embellishment of their lineage. This was especially important for the patrician tribes of the Capitoline and Palatine Hills elevated above the surrounding mass of the â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;plebsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;.

DECORATION & COLLECTION While some masks are intentionally destroyed after they have been used in specific ceremonies, others are built to

last but are damaged and disintegrate over time, requiring preservation or restoration by mask artisans. Those masks that last can be collected as a travel memento, as a cultural artefact for studying or simply for aesthetics. They are often passed down through generations, just as mask-making techniques are. Old and new masks are a popular decorative item in homes, with designs drawing on traditional and modern styles. Such masks often do not have openings for the eyes and/or mouth, their form and function being somewhat different to those that are worn.

INCOGNITO As travellers, we journey to far-off lands and, in effect, we encompass all that mask-wearing entails: as we discover new corners of the world, we do so largely anonymously. The unfamiliarity of masks can frighten and startle, but they also generate connection. Similarly, going out of our comfort zone to gain new experiences amongst strangers, we absorb their customs and practices, often participating and always learning. New bonds are formed. As we travel, pleasure and purpose are wrapped together and the stories come tumbling out. Mask-wearing, personified.

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surgeons, firefighters, sportspeople, and tradespeople. Given that the face alone facilitates the senses of sight, smell, taste and hearing, it does indeed warrant protection.

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NOH MASK — JAPAN

DOTTORE DELLA PESTE MASK — EUROPE

Carved from Japanese cypress, painted with natural pigments and dating back to the 14th century feudal period, these highly stylised masks enable skilled performers to convey the mood and character of a range of roles in Japanese Noh theatre. With each slight tilt of the head or subtle lighting adjustment, a new expression is communicated.

In demand in medieval Europe, plague doctors were fully covered to ward away spirits and smells, believed to be the cause of illness. Their attire included a distinctive beak mask with glass-covered eyeholes, and two small nostril slits stuffed with herbs and spices to help purify the air.

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YUP’IK MASK — ALASKA

GURULU RAKSHA MASK — SRI LANKA

Created by Yup’ik Eskimos, these masks play a central role in dancing ceremonies and storytelling gatherings during long Alaskan winters. Each carved mask tells its own unique story, honouring life in the Arctic environment. The muted colour palette complements intricate, diverse and expressive designs reflecting nature, animals and humanity.

One of several raksha (demon) masks used in Sri Lankan festivals, rituals and cultural dances, the Gurulu portrays a mythical bird devouring a snake and is believed to bring good luck and protection. Made of wood and painted in vibrant colours, raksha masks are apotropaic — used to ward off evil influences.

Yup'ik Eskimo dance mask, early 20th century, Lower Yukon River, Alaska (wood, feathers, pigments, vegetal fibers; width 62 cm). Donald Ellis Gallery Ltd.

...a forest grew and grew â&#x20AC;&#x201D; and grew...

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ABANDONED D E S T I N AT I O N S It seems that some of the most alluring destinations are those where humanity does not cluster. Perhaps we feel as though we can return home from such places with quiet memories tucked neatly into our pockets for when we need to escape our hectic realities. Mankind has continually sought to understand the mysterious places of the past. Because so many of us seek quieter existences, it is no surprise that we are drawn to the solace of these forgotten worlds. Here, we re-discover spots from around the world that were once loved and lived in, but have since been left behind. In the absence of humans, nature's persistent tendrils have made these places even more wondrous â&#x20AC;&#x201D; making our return inevitable.

WORDS BY ZARA BOWENS

OPPOSITE. Gas mask left behind in Pripyat city, Ukraine, following the Chernobyl disaster Photo by Nico DeBarmore

PRIPYAT CITY, UKRAINE Perhaps the loneliness of Pripyat city is so unmistakable because of the sheer number of those who left it. Its 50,000 inhabitants were all evacuated shortly after the devastating meltdown at the nuclear power plant in nearby Chernobyl in 1986. Their absence cannot just be seen, but felt in this nuclear wasteland. Though the surrounding forest — now part of a huge wilderness area — is moving in, Pripyat is a whole city suspended in time, which is why it is so mesmerising for many tourists. The fairground that was never opened lingers in the memory, its rusting Ferris wheel, bumper cars and swing-boats now just a melancholy reminder of life’s abruptness. There are sobering remnants of the past everywhere — abandoned gas masks and children’s dolls entwined in the school yards. Although it is not safe to visit for long periods of time, one is able to enter on a day pass.

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Photo by Peter Kšiňan

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MAUNSELL SEA FORTS, ENGLAND The Maunsell sea forts in the Thames and Mersey Estuaries have long been left alone to rust and decay. These remarkable army and naval forts were built during the Second World War but had a short period of actual operation. The forts have had unique and fascinating lives, from being pirate radio sites to facing attack by vandals and collisions with wayward vessels. Although some of the forts have been defeated by time and other â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;enemiesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, several stubbornly persist. Now the only steadfast visitors that these concrete sea creatures regularly have are the squawking birds that ride the surrounding swell. Many of the forts are deemed too unsafe to enter, though it is possible to admire them from the boats that occasionally visit and more often pass by. Photo by Daniel Jones

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HOUTOUWAN, CHINA Houtouwan was once a flourishing fishing village on Shengshan Island, east of Shanghai, before the mass exodus of over 2000 fishermen many years ago that left only a solitary few inhabitants behind. The decaying stone walls and houses have been consumed by lush foliage, giving the village its exquisite distinctness. Every crack and crevice seems to sprout greenery, as nature continues to heal the village of its past loneliness. The mountain and sea outlooks make this place even more breathtaking. Though abandoned by permanent residents, Houtouwanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s streets are well-worn by the relentless flood of tourists who visit the village daily.

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Photo by Hei Jiaoshi/ImagineChina

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KOLMANSKOP, NAMIBIA The unforgiving sand dunes of the Namibian desert are gradually burying Kolmanskop, a former diamond mining town which was abandoned nearly 60 years ago. The town’s population dwindled to non-existence because of the discovery of healthier diamond deposits further south. Kolmanskop was left a ghost town. Its ballrooms, theatres and casinos are frozen in time — never to delight another soul again. Today, however, guided tours of the collapsing and sand-filled ruins bring people back to this fascinating town. The grandeur of the town's past is inescapable, but because of its arid, windswept surroundings, it is easy to see why there is only an echo of life remaining here. Photo by Stephan Vorster

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CHATILLON CAR GRAVEYARD, BELGIUM An overgrown car graveyard can be found in a quiet forest near the Belgian village of Chatillon. Though their origin remains a mystery, the lichen-laced skeletons of vintage cars are rumoured to have been left by US servicemen who were posted in the area following the Second World War. Newer cars have been added to the foliage highway over time. The rusting corpses have slowly been dismantled by collectors and devoured by the surrounding forest. Although the site has apparently been closed to the public for the last few years because of environmental concerns, hopes remain that it may once again be possible to visit this strangely beautiful place. Photo by Marcel Wiegerinck

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WIDE WILD WORLD From deserts and tundra to cliffs and glaciers, rainforest and woodlands, we visit the wildest landscapes around the globe.

WORDS BY ANNALEE JONES

LOWER DANUBE, EASTERN EUROPE A cruise down the upper Danube has become a staple of European travel, but those who dare to go low are in for a treat. From Budapest to the Black Sea, the lower Danube runs through some of Eastern Europe’s less well-known landmarks. The story of southeastern Europe’s political evolution unfolds along the riverbanks as the water winds past gothic castles and ancient fortresses. But it’s the shabbier countryside, unkempt and unpolished, that charms travellers into coming back for a second visit. Wandering through villages, sampling the local cuisine, floating past the Iron Gates, and witnessing an Eastern European riverside sunset make the less conventional end of the Danube well worth the trip. Photo by Dan Dinu

MT EREBUS, ANTARCTICA Amidst the mountain ranges of this otherworldly place, we find the peak of Mt Erebus, nestled into the icy plains of Ross Island. Although Erebus is infamous as the tragic site of Air New Zealand Flight 901â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s crash in 1979, the mountain is also a fascinating geological landmark in Antarcticaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s vast emptiness. Mt Erebus is the most active volcano on the continent, and the southernmost in the world. Gases rise from its slopes, giving off steam amidst the snow, and lava splutters from its underbelly to carve ice caves and towers into the mountain. Photo by Deven Stross

GREAT BEAR RAINFOREST, CANADA With mountain ranges on one side, the Pacific Ocean on the other, and 8.5 million hectares of lush, green wilderness filling the space between, the Great Bear Rainforest has no trouble attracting adventurers from all over. But just to sweeten the deal, it has a pretty impressive collection of wildlife too. The rainforest is home to gorgeous birds, wild salmon, cougars, wolves, and — of course — bears. The area gets its name from the high population of the furry creatures: black bears and grizzlies live side by side, and the forest is the only place one will find the Kermode or 'spirit' bear — a special sight, and significant player in First Nations culture. Photo by Paul Nicklen/National Geographic Creative

MT NYIRAGONGO, DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF THE CONGO Mt Nyiragongo is one of the most terrifying volcanoes on earth, whose recent displays affirmed its ability to wreak havoc. This is a worry for residents of Goma â&#x20AC;&#x201D; a town just 20 kilometres from the mountain. In 2002, Mt Nyiragongo devastated downtown Goma, forcing 350,000 residents to flee while the volcano buried the city in over 11 million cubic metres of lava. But this is nothing compared to what the volcano is thought to be capable of. Scientists are currently uncovering the mysteries of Nyiragongo, climbing into its fiery walls and sampling the poisonous gases rising from its crater lakes. The hope is to be able to understand the beast, and protect Goma if Nyiragongo should unleash its fury once again. Photo by Nico DeBarmore

KRUBERA CAVE, GEORGIA In 2004, a group of Ukranian scientists managed to descend over 2000 metres into Krubera cave, and in doing so cemented its status as the deepest cave on earth. The dark, damp descent involved wading through freezing waters, sleeping in tents suspended against the rock face, and cutting paths through crumbling limestone. Although the challenge of getting to that record-breaking point was, according to one team member, like "climbing an inverted Mt Everest," descending through the Earthâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s crust gave explorers a close up tour of our worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s geological past. Tiny crevices led to prehistoric underground pools, and limestone rock told tales from Jurassic and Cretaceous times, providing fascinating information about what lies beneath the surface. Photo by Stephen Alvarez/National Geographic Creative

KINABALU NATIONAL PARK, MALAYSIA Established in 1964 in Sabah, on the edge of Borneo and Malaysia, Kinabalu was one of the first national parks in Asia. While the park itself is a great sanctuary, perfect for cooling off in the heat and exploring the rainforest via walking trails, Gunung Kinabalu, as it is known in Malay, is the parkâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mountainous centrepiece. The climb to the peak is steep, but for those who persevere, the views make an incredible reward. See the Philippines from the summit, or time it just right to watch the sun set over Borneo. Photo by Weera Sunpaarsa

NORTHERN GREAT PLAINS, USA The Great Plains is a straight-up kind of place, getting by with few gimmicks and a minimal amount of fuss. But despite this sparse first impression, a road trip here is full of excitement. Rolling hills, lush countryside, and fields of prairie grass may fool visitors at first, but this stretch of central states is home to storm chasers, wicked old cowboy towns, and the mighty Missouri and Mississippi Rivers. Hire a pickup truck, find the way to Route 66, and let loose through the backcountry roads and untouched expanse of Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s best adventure. Photo by Todd Klassy

POINT NEMO, PACIFIC OCEAN Named after Jules Verne's Captain Nemo from Twenty-thousand Leagues Under the Sea — not the lost clown fish — Point Nemo is miles from anywhere. As the Oceanic ‘pole of inaccessibility’ (others are found in obscure parts of Australia, Antarctica, and China), this unmarked patch of water is the exact spot where seafarers are the furthest from land in any direction. If one is out there with sea legs giving in, the closest place to come ashore is 2688 kilometres away, either at Ducie Island in the Pitcairn Islands, Moto Nui in the Easter Islands, or Maher Island in Antarctica.

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D E PA RT U R E F R O M C I V I L I SAT I O N In today’s world, where constant connectedness is increasingly the norm, it has never been more timely to consider those who have chosen a ‘wilder’, less conventional existence. Those who stray from mainstream society are often harshly judged as backward or ignorant. Nothing, however, could be further from the truth. Examples set by an Honours student, a Doctor of Mathematics and a game-changing sustainable community shatter this stereotype, and prove that people can be moved to depart civilisation for any number of reasons and in many forms.

WORDS BY CHLOE SKEGGS

BELOW LEFT. The body of Chris McCandless was found in this abandoned Airbanks 142 located in the Alaskan wilderness

BELOW RIGHT. A model student: Chris McCandless' senior portrait Photo courtesy of Carine McCandless

OPPOSITE. An artist's impression of the cabin where Ted Kaczynski plotted his revenge on society Illustration by Tristan Lewis

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Photo by bgs Photography

CHRIS MCCANDLESS Chris McCandless ventured into the Alaskan wilderness with only 5 kilograms of rice for food, and a tramping pack lacking many items essential to survive in that environment. Tales of his experience and ultimate demise have amassed him a cult following and inspired hundreds of fans to make the pilgrimage to the abandoned bus located on the Stampede Trail, where McCandless spent the final 113 days of his life. However, while his story has captured the hearts of many, he has also faced intense criticism, particularly by Alaskan locals who have categorised him as arrogant, ignorant and suicidal. McCandless grew up in the affluent Washington D.C. suburb of Annandale and attended W.T. Woodson High School, where he was the captain of the crosscountry team and excelled academically. He went on to graduate from Emory University with Honours, with the expectation that he would subsequently attend law school. Why then, did a man who appeared well-equipped to thrive in society, choose to depart civilisation and venture into the wild? While McCandless’ upbringing appeared picture-perfect, the reality of his home life was far from idyllic. His father, Walt, met

his mother, Billie, when she was 18, and he was already a married father to four children. Rather than divorce his wife, Walt established a second home, where McCandless and his younger sister Carine were born and raised. Walt and Billie’s relationship was an abusive one, both physically and emotionally, and it took a toll on the children. McCandless struggled with the eventual emergence of the truth about his parents’ deceit. He also resented the fact they felt they could buy his respect and complicity in the life planned out for him, attempting to bring him around with a gift of a car and promises of funding law school. A great admirer of Tolstoy, McCandless often sought solace in nature. From a young age, he encouraged his sister to appreciate nature, as “it may be harsh in its honesty but it never lies to you.” After graduating from Emory and in search of fresh, challenging experiences, McCandless told Carine, “I think I’m going to disappear for a while.” He then renamed himself ‘Alex Supertramp’, gave away his US$24,000 in savings to Oxfam, and

adopted a nomadic existence. For nearly 2 years, McCandless covered vast distances across America, even after a flash flood forced him to abandon his car. Alaska, however, was always his ultimate goal. On the 28th of April, 1992, McCandless made it into the Alaskan wilderness, following the Stampede Trail. While his journal entries express the contentment he felt during this period, ironically it was there that McCandless met his unfortunate end. In September, his lifeless body was found in an abandoned Airbanks 142 bus, weighing only 30 kilograms. After surviving for 113 days, he died as the result of eating toxic, wild potato seeds — the plant can be consumed safely, but only under certain environmental conditions. Poignantly, McCandless had attempted to leave the wilderness on the 3rd of July, only to have been forced back when he was unable to cross the overflowing Teklanika River. Although it is impossible to know, one can’t help but wonder what sort of life McCandless was intending to return to. Could he ever have found peace in civilisation as he had done in the wild?

Some of those who depart from civilisation are seeking something more sinister than solitude or self-discovery. Such was the case for Ted Kaczynski. This serial murderer became infamous for mailing homemade bombs to leaders of universities and airlines, leading the FBI to name him ‘The Unabomber’ (University and Airline Bomber). In 1958, Kaczynski entered Harvard University on a scholarship at the impressionable age of 16. According to the health services doctor who examined freshmen, Kaczynski was a “stable, well integrated”, if “slightly shy” student who “[made] his friends carefully.” Nothing unusual for a student 2 years younger than his peers. While by all accounts he had a balanced first year, it was at Harvard that Kaczynski began to develop an anti-technology ideology — one that he would later detail in his famed 35,000-word essay ‘Industrial Society and its Future', or ‘The Manifesto’. He began to romanticise taking revenge on technology-dependent society and escaping into the wilderness. After graduation, Kaczynski discovered The Technological Society, a book published in 1954 by the French

philosopher Jacques Ellul. It put forward views similar to what Kaczynski had begun to develop himself: that society no longer saw technological advancement as a tool but as an end in itself, and that people were valued only by their contribution to the advancement of technology. He went on to gain a PhD in Mathematics from the University of Michigan and in 1967 became an Assistant Professor at the University of California. However, Kaczynski was growing more and more obsessed with his philosophical beliefs. After 2 years at the university, he resigned. Then, in the early 1970s — after a 2-year stint living at his parents’ small home in Lombard, Illinois — Kaczynski moved into a remote cabin not far from Lincoln, Montana. He enjoyed a simple existence, living in the cabin he had built himself, without electricity or running water and surviving on the little money he earned from odd jobs, and financial assistance from his family. However, he was fired by his brother from his role at a foam rubber factory for harassing a female supervisor who had rejected him.

One day, Kaczynski went out for a walk to enjoy one of his favourite scenic spots, only to find it had been replaced by a road. “You just can’t imagine how upset I was,” he wrote. “It was from that point on I decided that, rather than trying to [develop my] wilderness skills, I would work on getting back at the system.” Kaczynski’s subsequent campaign of terror spanned nearly 20 years, killing three people and injuring 23 others, before he was finally arrested in 1995. Despite this carnage, his comprehensive social critiques and opposition to industrialisation and modern technology led one American criminologist to label Kaczynski “the most intellectual serial killer the nation has ever produced.”

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TED KACZYNSKI

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FINCA BELLAVISTA With a 5-star TripAdvisor rating, Finca Bellavista offers its guests and permanent community an unparalleled opportunity to live ‘off the beaten track’. The beautiful treehouse community, located in the middle of the Costa Rican rainforest near the Piedras Blancas National Park, provides an immersive experience like no other in the world. Inspired by the Ewok village from Return of the Jedi, the community is almost whimsical in design, made up of visually stunning treehouses that are connected by zip lines and bridges. In just 9 years, the sustainable community has grown to include over 243 hectares of reclaimed land — land that had been slated for palm plantations that would have been sprayed with contaminating pesticides. The staff and residents place a strong emphasis on conservation, sustainability and local community initiatives, while ensuring each guest receives individualised attention and care. “Living in a treehome is almost like

living in a conventional home — there’s plumbing, electricity, a kitchen, a bathroom, [but] because of our climate, there are no windows, just screens, and the ambient temperature is surrounding you all of the time,” co-founder Erica Hogan explains. Host trees are carefully selected by a botanist who assesses a range of criteria, including the tree’s growth pattern and root structure, as well as its overall health and age. This is very important, as if chosen wisely, “there is no reason why a treehouse can’t last as long as we do.” For those who reside at Finca Bellavista, daily life involves “work[ing] and enjoying [their] surroundings as much as possible.” Erica attends a morning meeting which may be followed by work on construction and a range of community projects, in addition to hosting visitors, operating

tours and, of course, enjoying Happy Hour with guests. Far from living a loner existence, Erica explains they “never have a moment alone here — the world comes to us on a daily basis.” However, despite the constant social interaction, Erica does admit to missing her family, as well as snowboarding, and the ease of socialising and availability of events in a more ‘civilised’ environment. But that’s about it. She never feels disconnected from the rest of the world, and notes that in fact, the contrary is the case: “Being bombarded in ‘civilisation’ with news media and advertisements creates more disconnection for me.” This raises an important point: perhaps it is those of us living within an increasingly mediated ‘society’ who are truly disconnected from ourselves, each other and the planet we share.

OPPOSITE. Upcycling used boots for planters in the nursery

TOP LEFT. A group of visitors enjoys the waterfall view from the Mis Ojos treehouse

Photo by Matt Berglund Photo by James Lozeau

TOP RIGHT. Peppers grow in nursery

BOTTOM LEFT. Founders Erica & Matt Hogan

BOTTOM RIGHT. A visitor cruises by a treehouse on the zip line

Photo courtesy of American Eagle Outfitters

Photo by Brian Beasley

Photo by David Barrantes

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A CHAT WITH CARINE MCANDLESS Photography by Dominic Peters

In April 1992, Chris McCandless abandoned civilisation and disappeared into the Alaskan wilderness. Four months later, his body was found in an abandoned Fairbanks City Transit Bus off the Stampede Trail, and his legacy is a series of inspirational writings: So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.

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Chloe Skeggs discusses the lessons of Chris McCandless' life with his sister and author of The Wild Truth, Carine McCandless.

The Wild Truth does such an amazing job of capturing the violent and deceptive environment you grew up in, I almost feel as if I’ve met your family. Do you believe Chris was wanting to leave behind your family, or society in general, when he began his nomadic existence?

Regardless of our age and circumstance, we are all students as long as we are lucky enough to be alive and care enough to be aware.

It was important to me that the reader be immersed within the environment so they could better understand it. I make a point to not speak for Chris, but to allow him to speak for himself through the letters that he wrote to me before he headed west after college. Through them, and the conversations we shared, he was quite clear about how the detrimental actions of our parents made him feel that he needed to leave in the manner that he did. He didn’t want that identity to define him. From that and my own experiences, I believe Chris found it hard to trust in people, and that certainly affected his view of society. But he remained a social and friendly person. He had hope. His past pushed him away, and his love of nature pulled him to where he knew he would find the inner peace needed to be able to engage day to day with society again in a positive way.

Judging by your relationship, as portrayed in The Wild Truth, you knew Chris better than anyone. In your opinion, what do you think was the main catalyst for him wanting to head into the Alaskan wilderness? It was the toughest challenge he could imagine. Chris would talk about challenging himself both physically and mentally as if it were an act of cleansing himself spiritually. He was in search of the peace, purity, and honesty that were not a part of his childhood. Where better to find those elements than in nature? And where better to immerse yourself in nature, than in Alaska?

When your brother attempted to leave the Stampede Trail on July 3 1992, what sort of life do you believe he was intending to return to?

Judging by the opinions of Chris, portrayed in both The Wild Truth and Jon Krakauer's Into the Wild, it appears that he made a strong impression on people, even those he knew only briefly. Why do you think this was? He was rare. He was remarkable. He made people think, whether it was from conversations they had with him or just by simply observing him. It caused them to think about themselves, their own lives. There are so many lessons to learn from Chris’ successes, and from his mistakes. And he would want people to take all of that in, while in search of their own true path, not in following his. To that end, it isn’t about Chris. That is why his story

is so timeless and resonates with so many people.

Have you noticed a shift in the perception of your brother since the release of your book? Absolutely. One important shift is that those who thought Chris was just reckless or had suicidal tendencies, when provided all of the facts about Chris’ life and death, realized that simply was not the case. He was an overconfident and underprepared young man in some aspects, sure, but that young man wanted to live, and learn from his experiences. But it’s important to note that I did not write The Wild Truth to defend Chris’ actions. Nor did I write it to condemn my parents, for that matter — we all make our mistakes. I wrote it because I had cause to realise that it would help others dealing with family dysfunction, that it could empower victims of domestic violence and raise awareness so there are fewer victims in the future. This became clear to me while working with students across the United States: Jon's book has been required reading in

thousands of high schools and colleges for almost two decades. When I finally began to accept invitations to speak at these schools, I saw what a profound effect it had on the students to have the rest of the story. Providing my own perspective took Chris beyond literary legend. It made him real. That personal insight enabled the students to identify with Chris. Thus it became less of an assignment and more of a lesson that would stay with them beyond their time with a character in a book. That has proven true for students of all ages, from diverse individuals all over the world who have read Jon’s book or have seen Sean Penn's movie adaptation. Regardless of our age and circumstance, we are all students as long as we are lucky enough to be alive and care enough to be aware. And the greatest lessons come from that which makes us human, not from what makes some iconic figure. I had my own lessons to learn. Mistakes and accountability, awareness and forgiveness, faith and purpose. These are the valuable lessons that come from Chris’ entire story. And I finally realised what a disservice I had done by not sharing it sooner.

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We will never know this answer, unfortunately. My opinion is that Chris would have always been an adventurer, but that he would have used his education, intelligence and determination to balance his thirst for adventure with work he could be proud of. He would have placed himself in purposeful occupation, perhaps as an educator, a writer, a journalist, an advocate — work that would keep his mind busy and would constantly have him learning and exploring.

They roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws...

ABOVE. Artheris squamigera, a venomous viper species endemic to west and central Africa Photo by Thor Hakonsen

AN ALIEN ENCOUNTER An abundance of weird and wild creatures of kinds that we could never dream up occupy our oceans, forests, deserts and islands. Sea creatures straight from horror films and children's nightmares scour the ocean floor, masterfully luring in their prey with a variety of imaginative techniques. There are land-dwellers that possess beauty seemingly morphed from a blend of species, while others warn of their predatory nature to which no human or animal wants to fall victim.

WORDS BY JEMMA SMITH

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GLAUCUS ATLANTICUS (BLUE SEA SLUG) The mesmerising blue sea slug grows to no more than 3 centimetres in length and uses a gas-filled air bubble to float upside-down on the surface tension of the waters of the Pacific, Atlantic and Indian Oceans. The beauty and size of this tiny blue dragon should not allow it to be underestimated, however. It is a ravenous predator, feeding off the oceans' highly venomous creatures, in particular the Portuguese man-o'-war. The blue sea slug can store and concentrate its prey's venom and stinging cells in its many tentacle-like fingers, and uses them to deliver a painful sting when defending itself. Photo by Steve Passlow

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OKAPI Long thought to be a mythological creature, the shy and elusive okapi lingers deep within tropical African rainforests. This endangered species relies on secluded areas of dense foliage to conceal itself from predators. The okapi boasts a unique blend of zebra-like stripes and reddish-brown fur coat, with an elongated neck and long black tongue resembling those of a giraffe, used for wrapping around hard-to-reach leaves and foraging forest floors. The Democratic Republic of Congo claim this 'forest giraffe' as their national symbol, actively promoting and protecting the species from the distressing threat of extinction. Photo by Ryan Summers

VAMPIRE SQUID Vampyroteuthis infernalis literally translates as 'vampire squid from Hell.' For a creature with disproportionately large eyes, a jet black body and caped webbing of its eight tentacles, this seems an apt moniker. Though in reality more docile than its horrific name, the vampire squid's defence manoeuvre of spreading its webbed arms in a pineapple shape to protect its body is alarming enough to allow it to make its escape. Despite a weak and gelatinous body composition not unlike the jellyfish, these squid use ear-looking fins to propel themselves over 2 body lengths per second through tropical and temperate oceans.

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Photo courtesy of Deep Sea Photography

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GULPER EEL Found in the darkest and deepest regions of temperate and tropical oceans, the gulper eel is a true creature of adaptation. Its unusually small eyes have evolved to detect only faint traces of light at 500-7500 metres deep, and compared to its wide and unhinged jaw, this slimy monster has tiny teeth. These features don't hold the gulper back though: also known as the 'pelican eel', it has a light-producing organ in the tip of its long, wispy tail, believed to emanate a pink glow used to lure its lunch in close enough to gulp the curious feast whole. Photo courtesy of Deep Sea Photography

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PANDA ANT What do we get when the exterior of a giant panda is morphed with the character of a killer wasp? A deceptively friendly-looking insect, the panda ant — actually a species of wasp — certainly earns its nickname, 'cow killer', as it administers a severe sting known to bring down beasts as large as cattle. The panda ant exhibits a pronounced sexual dimorphism, with wingless females dominating the stinging game, while their larger male counterparts are predominantly nocturnal and devoid of a sting. Originally discovered in coastal regions of Chile, the species has since migrated to other desert and sandy areas of Mexico and the south-western United States. Photo by Krishna Mohan

TARSIER The peculiar tarsier leads an arboreal life among forests in the Philippines and other various Southeast Asian islands. Not quite lemur and not quite monkey, with extraordinarily large, fixed eyes and a tail twice their body length, the tarsier is a primate all of its own. These nocturnal carnivores have evolved to rotate their necks up to 180 degrees to locate and pounce on their next snack, be it insect, lizard or snake. Climbing trees within hours of birth, they develop an aptitude for leaping early on, with long, powerful hind legs that can thrust them up to 5 metres between branches. Photo by Peter Pokrovsky

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BUSH VIPER The colourful bush viper is not a creature to befriend, with venom fatal to humans. Fortunately, these snakes avoid regions of human settlement, being found within tropical forests in western and central Africa. Their green and yellow scales act as both warning and camouflage as they lie coiled around the top of bushy plants, basking in the sun for days. As an ambush predator, the viper strikes at record speed to bring down prey that unknowingly wanders by its discreet locations, straight to their death. Photo by Tiberiu C. Sahlean

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ANGLERFISH The menacing anglerfish is the most rarely seen of all deep sea creatures â&#x20AC;&#x201D; not surprising when they inhabit unimaginable depths of the ocean. The female 'black sea-devil', significantly larger than the male, wears a protruding pole above her mouth with a luminous tip that lures in her prey. The unfortunate male stands no chance in the mating charade. Seeking companionship becomes a lifelong mission, so once he's found a female he literally latches on by biting into her. Over time, the male fuses with his soulmate, dissolving everything except for his testes, which the female uses once she's ready to reproduce. Photo by David Shale/Nature Picture Library

SPIDER CRAB This giant crustacean crawling around the ocean floor off the Japanese coast is the largest crab known to the seven seas, weighing up to 20 kilograms. From claw to menacing claw, the spider crab's weak daddy-long-leg limbs span nearly 4 metres. More terrifying than the mere existence of a giant underwater spider, however, is the near-immortality of such a beast: this crab has an average lifespan of 100 years. The spider crab is considered a prized delicacy in Japan â&#x20AC;&#x201D; remarkable, considering the scavenger's diet consists of carcasses left on the ocean floor.

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Photo by Pascal Kobeh/Nature Picture Library

ALIVE I N T H E A M A ZO N WORDS BY TUDOR CLEE

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Location: AMAZON, BRAZIL

Boy Scouts didn’t prepare me for this: reef knots and immolating sausages are not adequate preparation for the depths of the Amazon rainforest. The world's largest jungle has survived for millennia by responding with lethal force to anything that tries to invade or destroy it. In simple terms, every plant, tree, bug, fish, or any other organism is still there because it has the means to kill just about anything that attacks it — and this explicitly includes tourists (my signed waiver said so). Most trips to the Brazilian Amazon start in the city of Manaus. Sitting in the heart of the jungle, it was once a staggeringly prosperous city, with its surrounding rubber plantations helping to drive the mobilisation and industrialisation of the Western world. Pneumatic tyres were invented in the mid-1800s and Manaus rode the crest of the rubber boom, until — in a daring act of espionage by a British adventurer — seeds were smuggled out of Brazil and replanted in Malaysia. The rubber monopoly was broken and the city descended rapidly into a state of decay that is clearly apparent today. The first part of our tour out of Manaus was to see the ‘meeting of the rivers’, where the dark Rio Negro collides with the brown waters of the Amazon to create a remarkable, swirling milkshake — chocolate and blueberry — on a truly grand scale. I joined three other travellers of a similar age on the journey to our first campsite. Mike was a well-fed Alaskan: dressed in a mudstained pale Khaki outfit and carrying a 2-metre blow gun, he looked every bit the ‘great white hunter’ already gone slightly ‘tropo’, whereas Brits Amir and Gill – two London lads ostensibly visiting Brazil for the Rio Carnival – had got slightly side-tracked. They seemed particularly ‘well prepared’ for our little soiree, with suitcases full of neatly folded, semi-casual clothes and rows of snack packs lovingly prepared by their wives. After several hours of navigating the tiny waterways that sidle off the Amazon’s main river stem, we arrived at our campsite. A definite air of slow decay permeated our timber, dorm-like rooms, complete with a common area, board games and cold drinks. However, the site also had the atmosphere of a place to stay for those wanting to brag about going into the Amazon without really having to get their feet wet. After satisfying the camp guide that we were in fact ready for some deep jungle, a

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TITLE PAGE. A spectacled caiman in the Bolivian Amazon

PREVIOUS PAGE. Navigating the narrow waterways to the jungle campsite

Photo by Jonne Seijdel

further guide and supplies were arranged. The supplies comprised some rice, a pineapple, and a chicken. The plan was to kill the chicken and use 'non-essential' parts as bait to catch piranhas. If this brilliant strategy didn’t prove 100 percent successful, then we would have to start fishing with the essential parts of our hapless chicken, or resort to eating them instead — either way, rapidly exhausting our only guaranteed food source.

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Our guide, Mata, was an Amazonian native with passable English, and to break the ice I offered him that most essential of all jungle accompaniments — my hand sanitiser. His immediate response was that it would destroy the natural balance that his body had already achieved with all of the bacteria that, according to my waiver, had a reasonable chance of killing me. Conversation over.

OPPOSITE. The piranha, a fish made famous by its sharp teeth and voracious appetite for meat

Mata also warned us to avoid urinating in any puddles, as organisms living in them had a tendency to race up the donor’s stream and cause a new world of pain. Finally, we were warned not to stand still. I had already noticed that much of the jungle floor seemed to be carpeted with red ants up to 2 centimetres long. They weren’t a problem while on the move, but as soon as we stood still, the insect carpet began to move upwards — and they loved to bite. Having survived this initial trial of nature, I climbed into my hammock — protected by two layers of mosquito nets — and drifted off to sleep, only to be woken almost immediately by Amar yelling and carrying on: “There’s something on my back!” “There’s nothing there, mate,” Gill replied sleepily. “Look again!” cried Amar.

Venturing out in a canoe that carried us deeper into the real Amazon, we eventually reached our jungle campsite, which comprised a tree fern shelter, some hammocks, and mosquito nets. The first order of business was to catch dinner and, with Mata having despatched our poor chicken, the ‘non-essential’ parts were arrayed for use as bait. Unfortunately, neither the great white hunter nor the rest of us turned out to be great fishermen — huge surprise — and the only piranhas we landed were too small to eat. Even so, removing our hooks from the minnows that we did catch was an exacting exercise, as dead or alive, their teeth remain series of serrated razors, and being infested with carrion, they could be deadly in more ways than one. Dejected, we returned to camp for a barbecue of chicken remains and pineapple, then an early night. Mata gave us the rundown on ‘calls of nature’, where simple mistakes had the potential to invoke the jungle’s wrath. In particular, there was to be no standing on sleeping snakes, and if bitten, we had to try and identify the snake immediately so that Mata could decide whether sucking out of venom or amputation was the best response. However, using my headlamp to avoid snakes was also a bad idea, as mosquitoes the size of golf balls were instantly drawn to it, and far too many of them seemed to prefer slamming into my eyeballs over actually reaching the light.

After much turmoil and many reassurances, our intrepid explorer slowly settled down and we drifted off to sleep again — to be woken once more by shrieking of a completely different kind. An enormous clamour was coming from directly outside our enclosure: highpitched yelps and the sound of crashing. We soon discovered that we were under attack by a posse of howler monkeys, who were systematically throwing around the campsite every object we had left outside. Trying to sound calm, I asked Mata if he was going to do anything about it. “Are you crazy?” he replied. “I’m not going out there." If Mata was worried, then we had every right to be petrified. In the morning, we collected the remains of our crockery and celebrated our survival with coffee and freshly-picked Brazil nuts. The other casualty of the night was Mike’s shoes. He had left them on the ground and the ants had found their unique fragrance highly appealing. The surface of the shoes was now completely concealed and replaced by a shimmering mass of ants. The easiest solution at hand was to hold the shoes over a fire and let the smoke drive them away; a column of ants was soon dripping from both shoes like treacle. As we learned during our time in the region, anything and everything in the Amazon seems to have the ability to kill. The bark on many of its trees is lined

by fine hairs that are poisonous, while swimming in local streams is simply not an option. However, most tantalising of all are the numerous holes in the jungle floor that can house a multitude of deadly inhabitants. Mata would poke a stick in the larger holes, as much to see our reaction as to find out who or what was home. Sometimes a lizard would pop out; just as often a tarantula the size of a football. But it was the potential for a bushmaster (pit viper) or giant centipede attack that really had everyone’s breath held tight. Yet, in spite of the constant danger, the jungle also revealed a peaceful dimension. Nothing seemed to be in a hurry — and not just because this is the home of the sloth. Time has little meaning, the cycles of the forest and its own micro-climate loom large, and the local wildlife does its own thing to its own ‘beat’. In the middle of the nearby river, we passed a piece of driftwood with a spider the size of a dinner plate covering its surface. The spider seemed to be patiently waiting for an errant branch or oar, or a spur of land to climb on to. This timeless tranquillity was only broken by our discovery that Gill had a quite irrational and extreme phobia of ladybugs — leading to the near-capsize of our boat on one of our outings. Fearing the return of the howler monkeys, however, we decided that evening to take a night-time boat trip in search of caimans. The tiny alligators are nocturnal, emerging at night to hunt on the banks of rivers and streams. Using headlamps, we could make out their reptilian eyes reflected among the reeds. Mata was able to catch one, holding its jaws firmly and safely shut. Apparently, they are relatively easy to handle so long as they are under 60 centimetres long, so we nervously passed our new-found friend around the boat before finally releasing it. After 2 nights and 3 days of deep jungle, it was time to return to the main camp, grateful to find cola and chocolate awaiting us. We had planned to spend another few nights there, but our newlyformed group of adventurers fell apart after Gill retrieved his dry laundry and a poisonous centipede as thick as his wrist dropped out of it, narrowly avoiding him. He promptly declared, "My Amazon trip is over," and departed with Amar. I followed suit, back to Manaus, my Scout skills well and truly tested.

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Travel Tracker

Things we love about the Amazon: The jungle offers different levels of adventure depending on comfort zones, but the areas visited by tourists are still relatively undeveloped so plenty of wildlife and traditional living can be seen. Getting there: Plane tickets bought within Brazil can be extraordinarily expensive. As such either find an air pass prior to travel or have domestic flights as part of the international ticket. Transport: Amazon Riders (amazonriders.com) offer a 5-day, 4-night jungle tour, including airport transfers from Manaus to the campsite.

Currency: Brazilian Real. Language: Portuguese, though English is spoken by tour guides. Climate: The temperature in the Amazon is relatively consistent throughout the year â&#x20AC;&#x201D; generally in the mid-20s Celsius. The rainy season is December through May, and it remains humid the rest of the year.

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MAKING THE CONNECTION words by Christina Huntington

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Location: CALIFORNIA, USA

As soon as I step outside, a call erupts in the distance that stirs something deep and primal within. Though still far away, the wolves know that I am here and they are announcing my arrival. I follow their hypnotic howls down a path that leads to a large chain-link fence adorned with a yellow 'wolf crossing' traffic sign. Here, I catch my first glimpse of the wolves gathered in their various kennels — some white-grey, some jet-black, all with burning gazes that follow my every move. Apparently, they are just as curious about their new visitor as I am about them. In just a few minutes, I will be face-to-face with these majestic wild creatures. But first, I need to get a lesson on wolves. I discover that the 29 wolves housed at the sanctuary are all domestic rescues — animals originally kept as pets and surrendered or removed once they became unmanageable. The friendly volunteer staff likens it to keeping an elephant in one’s home: a baby elephant is very cute and everybody wants to play with it, but what happens when that elephant grows up and starts trampling the house? Unfortunately, since breeding and keeping wolves is illegal in most parts of the United States, once a wolf is surrendered to a shelter, it is immediately put on death row to be euthanised. That is where the Wolf Connection steps in.

I stand outside the fence and take a few deep breaths, trying to remember everything I have been told to prepare myself for what I am about to encounter. Once I enter, I must drop down low to the ground on one knee, palms facing upwards, breathing slowly and steadily, and remaining calm. Then I wait. If they feel my energy settle, they will approach and brush against my hands. Only then am I allowed to touch them. But one thing is clear: they come to me, I do not go to them. After all, though they may appear to resemble the friendly canines with which we routinely cohabit, these are not dogs. These are wolves. After driving beyond the outskirts of Los Angeles and passing through the sleepy Old West-style town of Acton, I wind my way up a remote hillside to find myself at the Wolf Connection — a youth empowerment educational centre dedicated to rehabilitating wolf and wolf-dog rescues. The compound stretches out over 11 hectares of California desert mountainscape.

Each wolf and wolf-dog that passes through the gates of the compound must go through an intensive 6-month rehabilitation process. First, their physical health is attended to. Then they must be socialised with the rest of the pack, which is often done with the help of Maya, the alpha female. An arctic white beauty from the original rescue pack, Maya serenely and confidently trains newcomers in wolf etiquette. As the wolves begin to stabilise, they learn to bond with select human handlers. Eventually, more people are added into their sphere until the wolf feels comfortable and safe interacting with humans. Many of the wolves thrive in this environment and become highly adept service animals. But some wolves will never get to the point where they can receive visitors in their kennels, their emotional wounds too deep to ever fully recover. Just like humans, wolves are very emotionally sensitive and many display ‘fear aggression’ from past traumas that can be difficult to overcome. Enter the at-risk-youth component of the Wolf Connection. Founder Teo Alfero was a youth counsellor when he met his first wolf-dog, a baby girl named Tala. Little did he know that one small pup would change the course of his entire life — and save the lives of dozens of wolves and wolf-dogs across America, while

TITLE PAGE. A resident wolf eyes up our photographer Photo by Sarah Prikyl

BELOW. Wolfee. This affectionate animal joined Wolf Connection after being confiscated during a sting operation â&#x20AC;&#x201D; he had been traded for drugs Photo by Sarah Prikyl

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Just like humans, wolves are very emotionally sensitive and have 'fear aggression' from past traumas that can be difficult to overcome.

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OPPOSITE TOP. Maya, an original pack member and quintessential alpha female

OPPOSITE BOTTOM. Wolf and volunteer forming a bond Photo by Sarah Prikyl

Photo by Chris Perry

inspiring the growth and empowerment of the next human generation. While volunteering to rehabilitate a pack of 16 wolves at a local shelter, Teo saw an opportunity to merge his two passions. He envisioned bringing his wolf rescues together with at-risk youth groups in the hope that each could help the other on their journey of healing and recovery — and the Wolf Connection was born.

Teo explains that the majority of the participants are dealing with confused feelings about love, rejection and what it means to be accepted. Since most of the people who proclaim to love them have actually hurt them, these concepts become very confusing. The same could be said of the Wolf Connection’s wolf rescues. Through bonding, the wolves and youths help each other learn to trust again, breaking down barriers and instilling confidence. As Teo puts it, “In the presence of these magnificent animals, kids who have experienced trauma, violence and abandonment find a place of hope and freedom from their past.”

Travel Tracker

On the monthly Community Hike with the Pack, guests pay a donation fee and enjoy a beautiful afternoon hike in the surrounding mountains with the wolves, followed by a potluck, kennel tour and educational talk. Hearing each wolf’s story — how they overcame neglect and abuse to emerge even stronger — is enough to bring tears to the toughest person’s eyes. Many visitors end up bonding with one particular wolf through a mutual recognition of their unique challenges and ultimate triumphs, often feeling motivated to become a 'sponsor' of their favourite wolf. As the popularity of the Wolf Connection’s community outreach has grown, along with the need to rehabilitate more and more rescues, Teo and his team are very busy on their newest project: building a wolf sanctuary and retreat centre. The new property will allow the admission of more rescues, moving them from kennels into natural habitat areas. At the new facility, visitors will be able to

lodge on the grounds and attend retreats while participating in wolf education programs. To honour the wolves’ naturally sustainable way of life, the entire compound will be run on green energy. Many levels of sponsorship are available for those who wish to contribute to building the wolves' new home. Back outside the kennel fence, now completely prepped and ready to meet my first wolves, I follow my instructions. I step inside, take a deep breath, drop down low, and wait. Then it happens. Suddenly, a giant wolf-dog approaches me. He brushes up against my hands and waits for my reaction as he looms stoically above me. His immense tufts of fur give him the appearance of a mythical creature from a fairy tale. This is Ranger — a strikingly handsome wolf-dog twice my size. He leans in close to my face as I remain perfectly still. Then… he licks me. I am instantly won over as he plops down and gives me his belly to rub. Sitting with this massive wild animal in my lap, I am touched to the core by the simple truth that all beings just want to be loved. If we can find ways to understand and respect each other, that love becomes our one common language. Here at the Wolf Connection, it is the only language they speak.

For more information on the Wolf Connection, to visit, or to make a contribution, go to wolfconnection.org.

Things we love about Acton, California: Its oldwest styling, desert landscape — and of course, the wolves.

Currency: US Dollar.

Getting there: Fly direct from major cities to LAX.

Climate: Expect hot summers and cold winters, though fortunately rainfall is relatively light throughout the year.

Transport: It's best to rent a car for the journey from LA to Acton.

Language: English.

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Five years later, Teo and his team regularly host revolving foster care and youth substance abuse rehabilitation groups for 8 weeks at a time. The kids come to the compound once a week, experiencing first-hand the value of patience, trust and second chances. In learning about the wolves’ recovery from abandonment, neglect and abuse, the program participants are able to hear their own stories echoed back at them — and apply the wolves' lessons to their own healing process.

Although the main focus of the centre is youth rehabilitation and empowerment, the Wolf Connection maintains a larger mission of inspiring all people to discover their full potential by interacting with the wolf rescues and witnessing their resilience. With this in mind, Teo and his team of wolf experts offer community visits for those interested in learning more about these beautiful creatures. Private educational tours by donation can be arranged, where visitors can have face-to-face time with the more social wolves.

Max said, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Be still!"

THE G R E AT E S T S H OW The story of circus began in England nearly 250 years ago and has since made its way around the globe â&#x20AC;&#x201D; drawing inspiration from our cultures, landscapes, people and wildlife. We take a look at how circus has evolved from a luxury outing for the family into a treasured and diverse art form.

WORDS BY LAUREN OWENS

TITLE PAGE. The tables have turned Illustration by Tristan Lewis & Rowena Bahl

OPPOSITE. An act from Kurios — Cabinet of Curiosities, Cirque du Soleil

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Photo courtesy of Cirque du Soleil

It was his impressive skills on horseback that inspired Englishman Philip Astley to forge a career as a showman. Astley was so talented on horseback and at wielding a sword, that after being discharged from the British Army at the end of the Seven Years’ War in 1763 he turned to performing publicly. He opened his own riding school in London and quickly gained a reputation for his daring feats — which nearly always ended with a reenacted battle scene. After two seasons, the audience wanted more. Astley enlisted the help of other performers — acrobats, rope-dancers, jugglers, and clowns — and the circus was born. This new style of theatre quickly gained popularity, and competition wasn't far behind. One of Astley's former troupe members, Charles Hughes, formed a new group and headed to St. Petersburg, Russia in 1793. That same year, one of Hughes’ equestrian students, John Bill Rickets, opened the first circus in the United States — in Philadelphia.

CIRCUS HEADS TO AMERICA When Rickets went to America, the concept of 'circus' was split in two. In Europe, circus was at first always held inside a building — and every major city had their own lavishly decorated and permanent space. Indeed, between the two World Wars, Paris alone had four permanent circuses. However, in the developing nation of America, this wasn’t possible. The groups had to travel long distances to keep drawing in the crowds, and there was no guarantee of a building big enough at the end of the road. In 1825, Joshuah Purdy Brown invented a collapsible canvas tent, known as the 'Big Top', which allowed circuses to travel between the new and

developing cities and set up shop anew in each one.

clowns became mute performers of visual gags.

It wasn’t easy though. Troupes travelled at night in wagon trains and could only make it up to 25 kilometres at a stretch. A rider forged ahead and marked the shortest path by placing rails from farmers' fences across the path to stop the trains taking a wrong turn. This nomadic lifestyle has always been at the heart of the circus.

It was the aerial acrobats who now shone as stars of the show. Tightrope walking and the flying trapeze became the crowd favourites — and the performers became legends. The inventor of the flying trapeze, French gymnast Jules Leotard, became a celebrity in Europe — as much for his performance as for his revealing costume, which has since become the norm for acrobats.

It didn't take long for these practices to stretch beyond Europe and America. By the 1850s, Italian equestrian Giuseppe Chiarini had established a circus in Havana before zigzagging across the world to Japan, Mexico, Chile, Argentina, China — and then down to Australia, New Zealand and Singapore. Similarly, the Cooper & Bailey Circus toured Honolulu, Fiji, Australia and New Zealand between 1876 and 1878.

SEND IN THE CLOWNS Even though acrobatics is a 2500-year-old tradition in China, it was equestrians who introduced it to the circus. They would balance, somersault and juggle atop horseback. By the mid-1800s, clowns were often the best at floor acrobatics. As well as singing, riding a horse, juggling and appearing with wild animals, they could balance and tumble with the best. In the 1850s, English clown Little Wheal became famous for regularly performing 100 somersaults in a row. Soon, things moved upward. Tightrope walking became hugely popular, eventually giving rise to the trapeze. By the end of the First World War, equestrians in circus were a thing of the past, and with the introduction of the three-ring act,

ODDITIES AND WILD ANIMALS The first elephant to join the circus was a female African elephant called Old Bet. She was bought in auction in London for US$20 and sold to Hackaliah Bailey from New York for US$1000. When she berthed in America, Bailey walked her to her new home, 90 kilometres away — but doing so only at night, so the public wouldn’t get a free show. During the day, he would charge people to see her. Even Old Bet's death in 1816 didn’t stop Bailey from displaying her. She was stuffed and preserved, and toured New England for 4 years. Soon enough, more wild animals were being put on display. By 1833, the original lion tamer, Isaac Van Amburgh, would dress like a Roman gladiator and step into the lions' cage. He dared them to attack, all the while beating them into submission with a crowbar. The performer would also bring a lamb into the cage — and at one stage, a child from the audience — to prove his control over the animals. The media were hugely critical of Van Amburgh's treatment of the lions, but the audiences kept coming. In the late 1820s, small 'freak shows' began appearing in America and England. It was

OPPOSITE. The bicycle balancing act of the New Shanghai Circus Photo courtesy of New Shanghai Circus

Tightrope walking and the flying trapeze became the crowd favourites – and the performers became legends.

Many of Barnum’s 'freaks' have since been immortalised: The Bearded Lady, The General Tom Thumb, The Tattooed Man and The Dog Faced Boy. Perhaps most compelling is the story of the original Siamese twins, Chang and Eng Bunker, who were born in Siam (Thailand) in 1811 and toured with various circus companies before ending their career as part of Barnum's troupe. When they retired, they settled in North Carolina, married sisters and fathered a total of 21 children. Chang died of a stroke in January 1874, and Eng discovered his death the next morning. By the time the doctor arrived for an emergency separation, Eng had already died.

THE CIRCUS TODAY The quite different circus we know today has been shaped by several factors. The World Wars put pressure on the labour force and many circuses simply went

under. Audiences were also shifting their attention to the growing culture of cinema and festivals. Those circuses that survived these changing trends downsized dramatically and looked at ways to reduce costs while maximising entertainment. It was Russia, though, that forged the new path focused on gymnasts and acrobats. When Lenin nationalised the Russian circuses in 1919, the Moscow Circus School was formed. By the 1950s, its performers were considered to be the best in the world — both in terms of technique and originality. Public opinion has also shifted in relation to the use of animals for entertainment. The audience no longer want to see ‘the taming of beasts’, but instead prefer to witness the physical prowess and skill of athletes, combined with engaging narratives and exquisite production values. The international popularity of Cirque du Soleil is a prime example of this. The show has inspired other groups to work on a similar narrative foundation — but with their own distinctive ‘twist’. For example, the French heavy-metal circus, Archaos, entertained in the 1980s and 90s with chainsaw juggling, explosions, and the 'wall of death'.

Combining the power of modern machinery with traditional daredevil antics, Nitro Circus has also found growing fame by performing jaw-dropping feats of FMX, BMX and skateboarding. The show is led by American icon, Travis Pastrana — the first person to do a double backflip on a motorbike — and features a line-up of internationally renowned freestyle athletes. Today, circus is as varied and interesting as our imagination allows. A day at the circus proves to still be as entertaining and whimsical as it was two centuries ago.

For a video demonstrating the acrobatic prowess of New Shanghai Circus, click below.

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in 1871, though, that these exhibitions of human as well as animal 'oddities' reached their pinnacle of popularity, when Phineas Taylor Barnum took to the road in America with his 'Greatest Show on Earth'. This was the biggest circus in the world at the time, requiring 500 people and 600 horses to take it from town to town.

CIRCUS AROUND THE WORLD

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CIRCUS VARGAS One of the world’s largest travelling circuses to still use a 'Big Top' tent, Circus Vargas has been around since 1969. Based in California, it tours the western United States, combining old-time circus with daredevil stunts. As well as featuring clowns, acrobats and magicians, it also lets motorbikes loose in the 'Globe of Death'. Nearly as impressive is the 7-hour task to raise the tent at each location, requiring a team of over 30 people.

THE 7 FINGERS DE LA MAIN This troupe strips away the 'superhuman' aspect of circus. Formed in Montreal in 2002, the troupe has grown from 7 to 200 people. They combine fantastic stunts with emotional narrative, seamlessly shifting from balancing atop a stack of chairs to strumming the guitar. Each member has a long-running career in circus, but wanted to remove the costumes and polished bravado, in order to reveal the person behind the stunt.

CIRQUE DU SOLEIL As one of the best-known shows in the world, Cirque du Soleil has performed to nearly 155 million people in the past 30 years. Its recipe — combining beautiful costumes, extensive production design and character-driven themes — has proven to be a real crowd puller. Cirque has come a long way since its beginnings as a theatre troupe in Quebec that impressed with stilt-walking, juggling, dancing and fire breathing. Today, it has artists from more than 50 countries and a permanent show in Las Vegas.

NEW SHANGHAI CIRCUS The New Shanghai Circus combines traditional Chinese dance with dramatic acrobatic performance. Taking its inspiration from China’s 2500-year acrobatic history, the circus features over 40 performers in exquisite costumes set amidst stunning backdrops — including a 3500 year-old sculpture. Founded in 1991 in Shanghai, they have toured internationally more than 80 times and are now based permanently in Missouri, USA.

Photo courtesy of OGA Creative Agency

FLYING FRUIT FLY CIRCUS Australia’s national youth circus has been teaching students the art of performance since 1979. Each year, up to 80 students learn how to juggle, flip, balance, and perform aerial displays. Their skills are then put on display at festivals and theatres around Australia and the world. Recently, it was announced the school will perform at the Sydney Opera House.

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SWAMP CIRCUS As the longest-running ‘contemporary circus’ in England, Swamp Circus has delighted audiences in more than 20 countries. Formed in 1986 in Sheffield, they also hold regular workshops in England and even a 5-day Circus Camp for all ages. They are renowned for high energy performances, aerial displays and fire and laser shows.

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D I S C OV E R I N G DA I N T R E E WORDS BY HERMINE BANKS

Location: QUEENSLAND, AUSTRALIA

flora and fauna that form part of Australia’s rich and unique biodiversity. Much of Australia’s native wildlife, including its marsupials, originated in rainforest ecosystems — so their descendants inhabiting the forest today are the closest surviving relicts of ancient Gondwanaland.

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I soon have the opportunity to get up close and personal with some of these descendants, with a stop at the Wildlife Habitat in Port Douglas. I have barely stepped into the enclosure when paws pull at me. My handbag’s cover is flung open, and a head is rummaging eagerly through my bag. I laugh, as I’m soon completely surrounded by the kangaroo bandits until the last of the roo feed I have has been devoured. Keeping the animals well-fed and watered is, unsurprisingly, a large part of caring for them — as I find out during my day playing zookeeper at the Daintree Wild Zoo and B&B. Established by owners and avid animal lovers Gill and Donna about 15 years ago, the boutique zoo is located on the cusp of the rainforest. Lisa, one of the zookeepers, is our guide for the day. She greets us at reception, pushing a wheelbarrow about twice her size filled with an array of fruit, vegetables and meat. "The animals are a lot of fun," she tells us. "Each one has a different personality – but it’s also a lot of hard work.’ And she is not wrong on either count.

It’s almost dark; the final rays of gold are streaming through the gaps in the trees, casting long shadows on the mossy forest floor, where nothing moves. The air is rife with the long, drawn croaks of tree frogs as they start their day, and the last shrieks of the cockatoos as they settle in for the night. There is a sudden rustle in the underbrush in front of me. A large, stocky helmeted bird with beady eyes, taloned feet, a bright blue throat and a distinctly red wattle appears, as if time-warped from a prehistoric age. I look around at the canopy villa in which we are staying at the Daintree Eco Lodge, to make sure we are still safely in the 21st century. Yes, the timber floors remain underneath me, the beautifully-carved tree stump side table is still there to covet, and the forty winks-inducing bed and splashes of green décor are all in their place. My favourite part of this luxurious tree house, the fully mesh-enclosed sun room in which I am sitting, allows me to secretly observe the activities in the forest below, forming an invisible barrier between me and the ancient rainforest (I am not game to share my living quarters with pesky mozzies or any snakes and spiders that may want to cuddle up to me at night). The lodge is located in the Daintree Forest in Queensland, along the north-east coast of Australia. The Daintree Forest is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and at 180 million years old, it is the oldest rainforest in the world — older even than the Amazon jungle. The forest is a living historical record of the evolution of the

The day is filled with a lot of feeding; cleaning and refilling of water bowls, and removal of poop from the cages, as well as general upkeep and maintenance — such as building or repairing perches for the various birds. Animals need food, water and clean shelters — sounds pretty simple, right? However, there are many intricacies to all of this, which means it can take years to develop the necessary knowledge and experience to become a fully-fledged zookeeper. Feeding, for example, requires Lisa to have thorough knowledge of the dietary requirements of the various birds and animals. Daintree Wild Zoo houses about 50 varieties of native tropical birds, as well as many ground-dwelling creatures: dingoes, crocodiles, quolls, possums, bettongs and wombats. The cassowary (my time-travelling friend from the prehistoric era) enjoys a diet mainly of fruit. Bananas are its favourite, which it pecks right out of our hands and downs whole in one gulp. The cuddly wombat also enjoys a fruit and vegetable diet – but finds bananas to be rather toxic to its constitution. The carnivores of the zoo, including the small, ferret-like quolls with their vampire fangs, the playful dingoes and the rather more intimidating crocodiles, all like their meat rare. The dingoes and the crocodiles are particularly fascinating to watch at feeding time. The zoo has two dingoes, a male and female. Only Lisa, Gill or Donna are allowed to go into their cage. And I can see why: with their wolf-like features and overzealous nature, they can change in an instant from cuddling Lisa on a log like a family pet to careening wildly around their yard in search of hidden meat. Chivalry is well and truly dead here — the female dingo must get to the meat first and fight the male for it, or else go hungry.

TITLE PAGE. Zip lining through the ancient rainforests of Daintree

TOP. Nighttime at Daintree Eco Lodge and Spa

BOTTOM. A cassowary

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OPPOSITE. Feeding the wallabies of Daintree Wild Zoo

There is also no love lost amongst the crocodiles when it comes to feeding time. The Daintree Wild Zoo has around 18 crocodiles, which are kept in three different swamps according to their size, so that they don’t kill one another. I throw a piece of meat out to a croc who's sunning himself on the bank closest to me. Suddenly, there’s a flash and his (much bigger) brother appears out of nowhere to death roll him for his food. These animals take sibling rivalry to the next level. “That one will need to be moved," Lisa says.

Although we can’t get up close and personal with some of the larger animals — those that may well want to eat us — we are able to interact one-on-one with some of the Zoo’s abundant birdlife and other tamer inhabitants. The black cockatoos are particularly friendly, immediately flying down to greet us and perch on our shoulders. They serenade and gently peck at us as we clean their aviary.

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And then there are the two young, exuberant emus. They push each other out of the way to get in front of the hose I am using, to cool themselves down and then playfully roll around in the puddles created by the water. Meanwhile, their two older counterparts look on this childish behaviour with complete disdain. Despite the strenuous work, I can see what makes life as a zookeeper worthwhile: it is the interaction and entertainment provided by each of the animals and their vastly different personalities. So when I leave — sweaty, tired and covered in mud and poop — I do so with a newfound appreciation of both the animals and the people who care for them. Leaving the animals to enjoy their afternoon, I head back to the Daintree Eco Lodge for some rest and relaxation of my own. The next day, we venture further into the forest for a day tour and jungle surfing safari with Jungle Tours and Trekking. So far, I have had plenty of opportunities to interact with the wildlife of the Daintree rainforest, so this tour allows me to get to know some of the flora that the forest holds, especially the millennia-old trees that tower above.

Things we love about the Daintree Rainforest: It's the oldest rainforest in the world, yet one of the most accessible. With adventure activities, isolated beaches and luxurious lodges, it is the perfect place to get amongst the wild. Getting there: Tigerair flies direct to Cairns, the closet airport, daily from most major domestic Australian airports. From there it's a scenic, mostly coastal 1.5 hour drive to the Daintree Forest. Transport: Those wanting to explore the area will need to hire a car or join a tour group.

I feel the palms of my hands get sweaty and my heartbeat double its tempo as I step to the edge of a platform 20 metres off the forest floor. Part of me wants to turn around and cling to the cedar tree around which the platform is built, and never let go. Instead, I lower myself into a sitting position and push off. I find myself teetering on the edge, going nowhere, and look up to see a cheeky grin on our guide’s face as he holds on to the rope from which I dangle. I laugh, “Let go, let go — it’s a lot scarier just sitting here." I’m soon zooming through the air attached to a zip line, passing a native nutmeg tree underneath the umbrella-like canopy of the Daintree fan palm, then racing past a tree kangaroo that pauses momentarily to survey me as he scurries up a neighbouring trunk. On the next platform, we find ourselves at the crest of a hill amongst the canopy of the trees, with a 360-degree view of the forest around us. The gradient of the land slowly morphs through brilliant hues of green to meet the blue of the sea below. “Do you know what’s so special about that view?” our guide asks. “It’s the only place in the world where you can look from one heritage site to another.” As I gaze across the treetops to the Great Barrier Reef in the distance, the truly special character of this area dawns on me. It is a place where animal and human inhabitants live in perfect balance and harmony with each other, interacting with each other yet respecting each other’s boundaries. “Live and let live,” as the saying goes.

Currency: Australian Dollar. Language: English. Climate: The Daintree has a tropical climate year-round with temperatures ranging from the low to high 20 degrees Celsius. There can be up to 120 days of rainfall a year, with most of the wet season being in the summer months.

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Though the crocodiles can move fast, jumping out of the water at speeds of up to 60 kilometres an hour, they can also move very slowly. The next piece of meat I throw is to a 3metre crocodile in the neighbouring swamp. Despite my best efforts to get it as close to his mouth as possible (crocodiles do not have very good eyesight), it hits him squarely in the middle of his head and falls into the underbrush beside him. “Take that, you bully,” I want to say, and run away. Instead, I find myself apologising, before spending the next 10 minutes screaming words of encouragement as he inches his large body around in a painstakingly glacial search for the elusive piece of meat.

A cheeky white and pink galah follows us around his cage, pecking at our feet while repeating, “Kiss kiss," and bopping away to some song only he can hear. We also come face to face with a mesmerisingly wide-eyed golden possum who stares at us timidly from inside a log, sticking his head out every now and then to take a bite out of the fresh leaves we have just given him. Those eyes. I think I’m in love.

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UNCAMPING AT C A S TAWAYS Full disclosure: I deeply dislike the term 'glamping'. As far as I am concerned, it is an abomination within the English language, along with all its compatriot portmanteaus. The word itself — portmanteau — actually sounds rather beautiful. It was originally a practical leather travelling bag, and now more often denotes a linguistic blend of sounds and meanings. To my mind, though, it recalls some marvellous shawl or cape, rich with brocade to keep out a cruel, 18th-century wind. For such a brilliant combination of letters to be associated with some of the worst words in English is a shame. Sheer laziness is what I think of such word-blending. It's about as lazy as the act of 'glamping' — glamorous camping. Nevertheless, here we are at Castaways Resort in Waiuku, south-west of Auckland, New Zealand, ready to experience this ironic combination in the flesh. Castaways calls the experience 'glam camping' rather than 'glamping' and for this small mercy I am very grateful. It's about 6pm, the winter sun setting far too quickly and darkness looming, promising an interesting journey to our luxury tent. We park up and are guided to our vehicle for the evening — a golf cart that will transport us to our tent, no traipsing over grass, laden with gear necessary. I put my partner in crime in the driving seat and plan just to enjoy the ride — one that turns out a lot bumpier than expected. It is already too dark to make our way alone, so we are helpfully led by a kind staff member lighting the way in their car. Left to our own devices, things may have ended quite differently, as my chauffeur is not exactly an elegant driver. It's fortunate that we have the lovely Castaway crew making the journey a little less 'death by golf cart'. We follow the car in front of us, surrounded by pitch black. With only the headlights for guidance, it becomes like having tunnel vision. For all we know, we’re merrily about to drive off a cliff. After what seems like forever driving around the

Blair Witch Project set, the car in front of us finally stops and we are shown to our tent. What a tent it is — or indeed, not a tent at all. My last experience of tenting involved pitching our own, pegs and all. When it rained, water would trickle inside the tent and onto our faces. When someone was not having a 'good tummy moment', everyone would know, and the only escape was to run into the rain, as far away from the tent as possible. That, after all, is real tenting — the way that gets us closer to nature, and also to our companions, in ways possibly altogether too natural. The tent in front of us is the exact opposite of these past trials. Everything is ready and waiting for us, including a luxurious kingsize bed and a bottle of New Zealand red. The 'tent' comes complete with a fridge, barbecue, couch, romantic lighting, and — wait for it — a bathroom with running hot water and a composting toilet. If there was one thing I found difficult to handle when camping previously, it was the toilet situation. With this new development, I feel like my problems are mostly solved. It's particularly great for those couples who are not ready to know each other quite that well just yet. Upon opening the fridge, we find dinner and breakfast ready for the following day. There are tempting little containers labelled 'entree', 'main', and 'dessert', along with clear instructions as to how to cook our meal on the barbecue. It is all very homely, making us feel as though mum came to our tent and did all the work for us before quietly leaving. Perfect: after all, when camping as kids, mum and dad often did all the work, while we were allowed to eat and make merry. There are no s'mores around campfires here, but it certainly is civilised fun while still having nature right at our doorstep. Although it is difficult to see in the dark, I can smell the grass and hear the sound of the sea nearby. The crashing of waves is one of my favourite sounds in the world

and at once I begin to relax. I also start to come around to the idea that we do not have to do anything at all. Camping takes commitment, effort and preparation, all of which bring their own sense of satisfaction. But it is actually nice to be able to experience that feeling of freedom that camping offers without having to worry about pesky details to get there. We settle into our palatial tent, happily immersed in Coastal Glam Camping, one of two camping experiences offered by Castaways. While the coastal version complements the New Zealand beach scene, Totara Tree Glam Camping caters to those who want to experience some thick New Zealand bush. In this case, the tent is perched between two totara trees — quite the treat for those excited by the idea of a luxury treehouse with the sounds of native flora and fauna lulling them into a deep sleep. The next morning, I wake to the sound of light rain pattering above us and I feel the excitement that comes with waking up to the rain in a tent. That sound brings the outside world in, and makes one part of it. I smile as I shift on the soft, comfortable mattress with its lovely linen caressing my skin. This could be a wholly different experience in a regular tent. I could be waking up to the beautiful rain with my inflatable mattress deflated and a twig digging into my back. I would certainly have need of my imagined brocaded 'portmanteau' to protect me from the elements as I relieved myself in a nearby copse of trees, dark and dripping with the overnight rain. On reflection, I would prefer to be just as I am now. Nature is a wonderful thing, but it is also unforgiving. Sometimes a little 'forgiveness' goes a long way. 'Glamping'. Well, I suppose real portmanteaus exist for a reason. We need a practical bag when we have a few things to carry, and a practical (if abominable) term to carry the best implications of two words — and the best of both worlds.

TOP. Coastal Glam Camping with a sunken bath tub that looks over the ocean

BOTTOM. Totara Tree Glam Camping where guests can enjoy the sounds of New Zealand's unique flora and fauna

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S U RV I VA L IN THE SERENGETI WORDS BY NICK WALTON PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARIO MORENO

Location: SERENGETI, TANZANIA

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It gets dark quickly in eastern Africa, as if a great vacuum cleaner is draining the sky of light. The acacia trees of the southern Serengeti become gently swaying silhouettes against an increasingly indigo sky. Night nestles around our crackling camp fire like a lover’s embrace, its flickering flame acting as a beacon against the darkness. Immobile but ever-vigilant, a Maasai warrior, draped in a red wool shawl against the chill of evening and clutching a traditional leaf-shaped spear called an eremet sero, scans the tree line, his ears tuned to the calls of nature. He is our sole defence against whatever might be out there, watching our little camp fire from a distance. There is something magical about sitting around a camp fire enjoying a post-meal brandy under a glorious canopy of stars. It’s as much a part of the African bush experience as the early morning game drives or lingering game walks under a late afternoon sun. While our Maasai companion can probably hear all manner of activities taking place in the bush beyond our circle, all I hear is the roar of silence far from the big city, the crackle of the fire, and the pitter-patter of conversation. I’m at Olakira Ndutu Camp in the deep south of the Tanzanian Serengeti and it’s my first night on safari. My two travelling companions and I have a six-tent camp — which moves seasonally with the animals of the great migration — to ourselves, save for a friendly, ever-smiling staff that serve a three-course dinner with gusto despite our remote location, and afterwards tell tales of the Serengeti past and present by the light of the fire. Olakira Ndutu sets up camp in a shaded forest clearing in the acclaimed Ngorongoro Conservation Area between December and March. The region, located west of Arusha in the Crater Highlands, is recognized as one of the most important conservation reserves in Africa. Its crater — that of a large volcano that exploded and collapsed on itself 3 million years ago — is home to hippos, elephants, black rhino, crocodiles, Cape buffalo and a large concentration of lions. It’s a popular first step for safari seekers who drive from Arusha or fly from Kilimanjaro International Airport with African specialists Robert Mark Safaris, a company which sends an increasing number of affluent travellers from Asia to Tanzania for an African experience that’s out of this world. Earlier that day, our game spotting had begun while Jarad, our bush pilot, flew us from Kilimanjaro International Airport. As our tiny 12-seater Grand Caravan approached the dirt airstrip, a short

drive from Kwihala, we spied zebras grazing and giraffes walking like catwalk models across the vibrant savannah below. A family of warthogs, their tails erect like radio antennas, went to ground with the passing of the turboprop. We’re picked up by our guide from the camp in a long-wheelbase Land Rover with open sides and high-mounted seats that are ideal for game viewing. Here, in the southern Serengeti, every movement — whether on a game drive or just getting from A to B — is a safari experience. Within minutes, a large herd of elephants emerges from the thorny tree line as we bump our way towards camp, two adolescents wrestling with their thick trunks. A ‘toddler’ the height of a man raises a clump of savannah grass in the air as if in greeting, the elephant equivalent of a smile on his face. Beyond, a Cape eagle-owl the size of a housecat glares at us from his shaded perch and a cheetah lies languidly in a bed of reeds waiting for the sun to dip lower in the sky. Our guide has keen eyes and an encyclopaedic knowledge as we trail timid bushbuck, ambivalent eland and a herd of wildebeest. Rhubarb-hued agama lizards dart from rock to rock in our wake. Olakira is a clutch of nine spacious canvas-floored tents, each comprising a sitting area, work desk, queen-sized bed, and massive bathroom, complete with flushing toilet. Bucket showers mean staff deliver the hot water to a tank at the back of the tent at a pre-arranged time. After dinner, I’m guided through the inky darkness to my accommodation by our warrior chaperone, who is armed with a powerful torch and his trusty spear. His torch beam scans the tree line surrounding the camp, looking for the tell-tale reflection of a lion’s eyes or the silhouette of a startled elephant. It’s a poignant reminder that we are the outsiders on the savannah, and that the wild things know far more about where we are than we do them. Life on the plains begins early. Before the golden arrival of the dawn, we’re already up, bleary-eyed but excited. After a cooked breakfast and strong, steaming coffee, we leave Olakira on an airport transfer that doubles as an early morning game drive — taking advantage of the increased activity on the savannah before the sun starts pounding. A pair of fearless honey badgers dart across the road before us, and two spotted hyenas eye us casually before scampering off in their signature skipping rhythm. A cheetah sits motionless in the gentle breeze, one eye on our slow approach, the other on a herd of dik-dik. Beyond, a pride of lions pretend not to notice us as they lounge on a rocky peak surrounded by gently swaying savannah grass the colour of honey. It’s a short flight north-east to Namiri Plains, a true African story of conservation and rehabilitation. Closed for 20 years to create a safe haven for cheetah, the reserve and its intimate Asilia Africa camp opened up in July 2014, promising an unrivalled ‘big cat country’ experience. The migration passes through Namiri Plains from October to May and unleashes spectacular predator sightings during December and January as the resident big cats feast on the passing herds of wildebeest and zebra. One of the joys of Namiri is that, unlike in the reserves surrounding the Ngorongoro Crater, this slice of Africa needn't be shared with anyone else. In fact, after being picked up at the nearest landing strip, we quickly become the only game vehicle for as far as the eye can see. Following a long ribbon of dirt track across the flat landscape, we spy more yelping hyenas, and a pair of male lions cooling off in the shade of a desert date tree, their dusty bronze halos wreathing battle-scared faces. In an acacia tree, an augur buzzard feasts on a plump green chameleon.

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PREVIOUS PAGE. Clockwise from top left: a Maasai warrior stands guard, cheetah kill, an acacia tree at sunset, lion cub on a log

BELOW. Crane coming in

and leek soup and zesty fish curry with fluffy saffron rice is followed by a long, quiet session of star gazing and self-reflection. I can’t help but wonder if the lioness is enjoying the same view as we are, or if she is already out hunting in the darkness. That night I hear things that go 'bump', as a hyena and a family of warthogs make their way through the camp, one of them pausing to rub itself on the thick fabric of my spacious canvas-floored tent. There’s very little risk of him getting in through the double-zipped layers, so I just lie in my bed, hold my breath, and listen to the night close in around me.

Namiri Plains is a little less on the ‘wild side' than Olakira, providing more pampering for its select visitors. The camp’s eight tents are spaced well apart from one another and offer spacious bathrooms with flushing toilets, screened-off snugs and king-sized beds. My tent, the furthest from reception and thus the most isolated, offers stunning views across the riverbed, where warthogs and wildebeest graze in the early morning sunshine.

Our final stop is Sayari Camp, another short bush flight away and our third Asilia Africa retreat. Despite the short 1-hour flight, the landscape below changes dramatically: we leave the flat savannah for the northern Serengeti and the Mara River, on the border with Kenya. Here, the grasslands have been burned away as part of an annual program to help regenerate the ecosystem before the great migration arrives, revealing undulating hills dotted with massive polished boulders. But even in the absence of the migratory animals for which the northern Serengeti is famed, its populations of elephants, antelope, buffalo and cats can be seen throughout the year.

The afternoon is spent on a game drive. We watch as zebras drink at a water hole framed with emerald grass, and play hide and seek with cheetahs in a pile of ancient boulders the size of a block of flats. As the sun sinks into the golden grass later that evening, our guide plays bartender, and serves gin and tonics in the back of the game vehicle. Only steps away, a pride of lions enjoys some family time, a pair of 3-month-old cubs taking turns to stalk up before their mother calls them back with a growl and a yawn that reveals rows of brilliantly white teeth. That night, we dine under another skyscape, lit by dancing lamps suspended from the camp’s great acacia tree. After drinks around the fire pit, we move across to the candle-lit communal dining table to join guests from America and England who have just arrived. A dinner of potato

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Leaving the landing strip, we skirt around the Mara’s deep river bed, watched by massive Nile crocodiles and a clutch of hippos cooling off in the deeper water. The river is a popular spot for Great Migration viewing: as hundreds of thousands of wildebeest attempt the crossing, the resident crocodiles do their best to catch a few in the process. But today the landscape is quiet. A family of elephants, including two babies, stands in the shade of a kigelia tree and watches our progress.

camp, with the second wing dedicated to families and groups travelling together, and boasting its own facilities. With spacious, air-conditioned living spaces, a small signature spa, and an infinity swimming pool that offers captivating views and welcome respite from the afternoon heat, Sayari is no hardship. My spacious hard-floored tented suite features a little patio, a deep soak tub, a flushing toilet and flowing shower, and a kingsized bed. Outside, only 100 metres away, a mother elephant and her child stroll past without a care in the world. A northern goshawk circles above us like a drone, its broad wings casting a perfect silhouette in the late afternoon sunshine. With the sun hanging low in the sky, we set out on our last game drive, heading north towards the Kenyan border in the wake of a herd of elephants that trace the dry riverbeds in search of grass. A family of mongoose race through the grass behind us and a hundred-strong herd of Cape buffalo eye us closely as we skirt around them. The leopards that many travellers venture north to find are eluding us this evening. However, as we stop at the top of a gentle rise to welcome the sunset with ice-cold gin and tonics, we spot a pair of rare black rhino in the distance. There are fewer than 70 black rhino left in the Serengeti due to endemic poaching. This rare encounter is the topic of the table when we return to camp and a glorious three-course dinner, served under the African stars and serenaded by the folk songs of local Kuria tribesmen. It’s a breathtaking finale to an unforgettable African adventure.

Soon, the tan-coloured tents of the camp come into view on a low ridge. Sayari is home to 15 tented suites, built in two wings. Most guests stay to one side of the

Things we love about Tanzania: The wide open spaces, the diversity of landscapes, and the warm hospitality.

For an extended photo essay click here.

Tanzania safari experts (www.robertmarksafaris. com). Currency: Tanzanian Shilling.

Getting there: Fly Singapore Airlines (www.singaporeair.com) to Bangkok and connect with Kenya Airways (www.kenya-airways.com) to Nairobi and on to Kilimanjaro International Airport. Transport: Robert Mark Safaris is Asia’s leading

Language: Swahili & English. Climate: Tropical, with highs of 30 degrees Celsius between November and February, dropping as low as 10 degrees between May and August.

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We arrive at the camp in the early afternoon. As we dismount from the safari 4x4, our guide whispers to us, “Do you see? We’re being watched.” It takes me a while to catch on, eventually spying a pair of golden ears and an attentive face peeking up from the tall grass less than 50 metres away. It’s Namiri’s resident lioness, a beautiful cat who divides her time between the shade of a tree on the far side of a dry riverbed from the camp’s dining tent, and the tall reeds below, where her cubs safely play. The idea of a lion lurking only a few bounding leaps from where we sit with our gin and tonic sundowners is exhilarating. It’s why we’re here.

"Let the wild rumpus start!"

BURNING MAN WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY THAI NEAVE

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TITLE PAGE. Nudity is not just encouraged, it's embraced

ABOVE. A spectacular 15-metre woman framed by the seemingly endless desert. Made entirely of steel and crowd funded dollars

Location: NEVADA, USA

Burning Man has grown every year since its humble conception in 1986. Years of social and conventional media blasting spectacular images of the event has intrigued people from all corners of the globe. Now, approximately 70,000 people descend into the middle of the Nevada Desert to form the temporary Black Rock City. Many argue that the journey is in its own way a modern pilgrimage — so dedicated are many of those that attend the annual event, that the closest they will ever get to organised religion is their proud identity as 'Burners'. Pilgrimage or not, we waited 12 hours overnight in a 80-kilometre line of RVs and campervans just to reach our makeshift Mecca.

"I feel like I’m Han Solo, and you’re Chewie…and we’re in that f***ed-up bar." The line, uttered by 'Jay' in the film Dogma, came to mind one night as I was — yet again — failing to understand what the hell was actually going on. Like that legendary bar scene in the original Star Wars, Burning Man is a challenge to define. But here goes… It’s part festival, part circus, part art show, part pilgrimage, part Halloween, part desert wastelands à la Mad Max, and yes, part Star Wars. But unlike the fictional planet Tatooine where Obi-Wan Kenobi comes to Luke Skywalker’s aid with the swift brush of a lightsabre, Burning Man actually exists. And, at least to me, therein lies the event's greatest appeal: every year one can visit another planet, right here on Earth. The official event website says that Burning Man is "a temporary metropolis dedicated to community, art, self-expression, and self-reliance. In this crucible of creativity, all are welcome.” That is, of course, for those who can actually get in: the event sells out so quickly that it’s a little like trying to lay hands on one of Willy Wonka’s golden tickets.

Whether it’s one's first 'Burn' or their 20th, participants are instantly smacked with an alternative paradigm: no money is exchanged (except to purchase ice and coffee), and clothing is very optional. The weather is extreme; the music endless. Phones and social media are forgotten, and the focus turns from everyday capitalism to exchanges in creativity, love and generosity. Maybe this isn't the place for those for whom that sounds too hippydippy-woo-woo. But for most that regularly attend, it’s their Utopia. What struck me this time around was how critical attendees are to creating the overall experience. Sure, the price of admission contributes to the overall infrastructure and art installations, but it is the Burners that ultimately make each event so unique. It is our creativity, our music, our costumes, our workshops, our gifts to each other, and ultimately our attitudes that separate Black Rock City from any other place on earth. We didn’t just go to the event — we were the event. Whether we were conscious of it or not, we came to experience ourselves — one another — vibrating on a higher frequency. As such, we morphed into art admiring itself.

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Once inside, everyone sets up camp around a large space of desert left entirely for art and unimaginable debauchery. This space is affectionately referred to as the ‘Playa’. It’s here where spectacular pieces of art are showcased, only to eventually be burnt down. A giant man and a temple are always erected, and the event culminates with their ultimate destruction. Because the art is equally new and impermanent, it gives Burners more reason to keep going back: if they don’t go, they miss out.

RIGHT. Art imitating life or life imitating art? Either way, who cares? Humans are awesome

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PREVIOUS PAGE. Clockwise from top left: a dust storm provides the perfect excuse to stop everything and just dance on the desert stage, revelers turn into sunset silhouettes at a Burning Man wedding where everyone is invited, hugging replaces handshakes at Black Rock City, the 'art cars' are so creative they give the latest Mad Max a run for its money

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That art extends to costuming. For those that want to actually wear clothes, Burning Man is a bit like Halloween on steroids. What’s interesting is how quickly the wackiness becomes normalcy. It reminded me of a sensation I had in Havana, Cuba, when after a week or so I got so accustomed to the old 1950s cars rumbling by that it no longer felt unusual. Similarly, after just a few days at Burning Man, the sight of a 2 metre tall Canadian getting out of his tent next to mine dressed as a banana felt, well, expected. No doubt many Burners' getups are heavily influenced by the fantastic post-apocalyptic world of Mad Max. Sure, leather and fur are perfect in the harsh weather conditions, but the bonus is that they also look stunning against the desert backdrop. Adding to the desert-chic style are the goggles, masks and bandanas needed to protect against the dust storms that frequently sweep across the Playa with little to no warning. Sometimes, the dust can be so thick that it’s literally impossible to see more than a body length ahead. Most Burners use bicycles to get around, which means at night, it’s advised to incorporate lights into one's costume, simply for safety. So when the sun sinks, the greatest light show on earth erupts as the Playa becomes a giant soup of red, pink, blue and green neon whirling around in every conceivable direction. That scene in itself is worth the price of admission. Adding to the spectacle are the elaborate art cars that are constantly cruising by day and night. Hundreds of thousands of dollars are spent building these contraptions. There are cars and trucks that look like giant octopuses, deep sea

creatures, converted boats, floating islands, dragons, and airplanes, just to name a few. Often they serve another purpose, as they carry with them speaker systems worth more than what most people will ever pay for a home. Popular art cars and their DJs will often have a slipstream of people following them deep into the desert, where a dance floor erupts and continues until well after sunrise. It might look and feel like Mad Max at times, but Burning Man is by no means a lawless society. Police and state rangers dish out speeding tickets, remain on the prowl for illegal substances 24/7, and even ensure that IDs are checked wherever alcohol is served. Yet make no mistake, the usual constraints and expectations of society have been completely loosened: this is a place where people of all walks of life can — for at least one week of the year — be exactly who they want to be. For instance, one day the dust departed long enough for me to spot a guy sporting a Santa Claus beard and a peach-coloured tutu. He stood in the one spot, mesmerised as he twirled a plastic human skull around his head, like John Wayne wielding a lasso. “You look like you’ve finally found your home,” I remarked. “Exactly,” he said, noting it was his first Burn and he had only arrived the previous day. What makes someone want to dress up like Santa in a tutu and twirl a skull around his head for hours on end is personally beyond me, but such considerations completely miss the point. Burners frequently greet each other by saying “Welcome home,” because many inherently feel like the event is the only

place where they can truly be themselves. The irony is that most have travelled thousands of kilometres away from their actual homes to a desolate dust bowl to finally find a place that accepts them whole. Perhaps, then, Burning Man represents something that we’re all ultimately yearning for: a place, community or family, who will give us the freedom to be our truest selves and embrace us for who we all ultimately are — human beings with an inherent desire to love, create and be joyous. At the Burn, no one ever seems to be completely on a metaphorical island because there are tens of thousands of other people just like them, exploring their own gamut of craziness, weirdness, or freakiness. These are not just the drug-taking or hippy stereotypes that many would love to attribute to Burners. Rather, they’re just as likely to be lawyers, CEOs, geologists, models, and artists. Gender, sexual and racial diversity are strongly represented. Everyone and anyone can be a Burner because whatever that person identifies with — where they live, what they do, what they wear — eventually melts away on the Playa. Some people (like me) need a little push to unleash their wild side, while others seem to easily let go. Either way, all walks of life from all over the world make this incredible pilgrimage because they feel drawn to exploring something deeper within themselves. By doing so, they expand beyond personal and societal limitations as to what humanity should look like or how it should behave. If it’s true that life isn’t about finding but rather creating ourselves, then Burning Man provides the ultimate blank canvas.

BELOW. Australians Rosie and Lauren climb on board their 'dream'. The spectacular art changes every year and is often burnt right there in the desert

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Travel Tracker

Things we love about Black Rock City: Spectacular dust storms and art; nudity; all night, all day dancing... This place shows what humanity is capable of when we shift our focus to giving and creativity.

acid. Metaphorically speaking of course... Currency: No money is exchanged at the Burn, except to buy ice and coffee. Language: Love.

Getting there: The lines in and out make any journey to Burning Man tedious, but it's all just part of the pilgrimage. Many drive through Reno for last-minute supplies, or those with the cash can fly directly in. Transport: A bike is critical at the Burn to see all the art and cruise to all the parties. At night, light it up for safety and the desert turns into Vegas on

Climate: Not to be taken lightly: hot days and icy nights. Leather and fur not only look Mad Max-chic, but adapt well in desert conditions. Always take goggles and bandannas for wind storms that arrive without warning.

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A ROMANTIC RENDEZVOUS Places and destinations that could be ripped straight from the pages of a romance novel.

WORDS BY NICOLE GRAY

OPPOSITE. A private jetty under the night sky in the Bahamas Photo by Will Henfield

CROATIA Below: Buza Bar, Dubrovnik. Photo by Ivo Dukic Right: Rovinj viewed from the sea. Photo by Dragan Todorovic

They run, giggling and giddy with the freedom that comes from exploring the unknown, and being unknown. First a left, then a right; a reversal, an about-turn. Running; the shafts of late afternoon sunlight, the scuffing of sandals on uneven stones, and unsteady, heady excitement. And then, suddenly — a doorway. Unassuming and easily missed in the camouflage of the old, crumbling wall. A modest sign: 'Cold Drinks'. Walking through and emerging onto a small, simple terrace, unremarkable save for the view — expansive and uninterrupted over the Adriatic, with its curious and distinctive shade of blue. A bar and a few tables jostling where there’s space between the rocks. The beginning of a sunset has her drowsy in the last rays of the day. Several frosted bottles of beer later, a sense of bravado. He cocks his eyebrow, a challenge laid out.

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A peek over the edge. A hand to hold. A leap of faith.

QUÉBEC CITY Left: Cobbled streets in the old city. Photo by Clermont Poliquin

They huddle under the warmth of a wool blanket, with a sheet of stars above them. Puffs of cloudy breath, both human and equine, mingle in the sharp moonlit air. The earthy smell of the horses is oddly comforting. Viewed from the height of the carriage, the charm of Old Québec is revealed. The winding cobbled streets, Victorian squares and heritage buildings have a transformative effect. They could be in Europe. Apart from the clop of hooves and the rattle of reins, there’s little sound. They talk in hushed tones, admiring the 'Paris of the Americas'. The driver of the calèche pulls to a stop by the magical Fontaine de Tourny. The horses paw the ground with their hooves and nicker. “Let’s make a wish,” he says. They unfurl from the blanket and climb down. The fountain’s jets leap and whoosh, changing colour with the lights.

Later, they sip something sparkling, the bubbles fizzing juicily in their mouths. A moment to be savoured, not selfie-d.

THE BAHAMAS They stroll along the beach with sand skittering off their feet, and make their way to the end of the jetty. Lit only by candles and the far-away twinkling stars, the white muslin of the tablecloth billows occasionally in the soft, balmy breeze. A personal butler greets and seats them, as charming as the surroundings, humbling them with his servitude. The waves shush quietly, a backing track to the melody of metallic cutlery chinks. The sweet scent of the coastal gardenia ebbs and flows; the flowers, sensitive to the sun, bloom in the evening, falling by morning. They brush hands lightly, enjoying the tingle and bristle of anticipation. When they return to their overwater bungalow, the sheets have been turned down invitingly, the scattered petals blushing. Silk slips over bare shoulders, and in a moment of intimacy with their environment, they leave the shutters wide open. They wake with the dawn and make promises to each other. They wake to their future.

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And then, he is kneeling, arms stretched before him, his edges softened by the fine mist hanging in the air. For a few surprised seconds, he is unexpectedly vulnerable.

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MARRIED TO THE MALDIVES WORDS BY NICK WALTON

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Location: MALDIVES, INDIAN OCEAN

glass of champagne before we make our way, guided by our Thakuru butler Milo, to the Tribal restaurant and a chance to learn African Latino cooking techniques.

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Chef Ken Gundu, twice named best chef in the Maldives, is from Botswana, but spent many years in Belize. Tribal, one of the innovative restaurants at the resort, allows him to blend his influences from Africa and Central and South America. During the cooking class, we learn the different spices and herbs used in Tribal’s dishes, many plucked straight from the resort’s organic gardens. We then attempt to recreate the likes of shrimp salbute tortillas and fluffy escabeche fish, under Ken’s watchful eye. At the dinner which follows, a Maasai warrior serves us phenomenal food that whisks us far from the usual resort buffet. There is only one real way to do breakfast in the Indian Ocean, and that’s 7 metres below the surface of a stunning turquoise lagoon in SubSix, which also features a chic restaurant and cocktail lounge above called Edge. As clown- and parrotfish swim by, my wife Maggie and I are treated to a champagne-laced midmorning soiree, one of several enchanting encounters the resort plans for visiting lovers.

Once upon a time, a visit to the Maldives was all about enjoying the destination’s captivating beauty and doing as little as possible in the process. There are still plenty of guests who arrive at Per Aquum Niyama — one of the Maldives’ most progressive contemporary hideaways, a 45-minute seaplane ride from the international airport at Malé — with exactly that intention, making the most of their beachfront or overwater villas, the spa, or the serene little corners of the island that are ideal for curling up with a good book. However, increasing numbers want to balance out all that relaxation with activities that excite, inspire, and even educate. Per Aquum Niyama is an island that’s always reinventing itself. In fact, it’s technically two islands: Chill, home to the resort’s original villas and restaurant, the Lime Spa, and SubSix, the underwater restaurant and event space located below its own pontoon 150 metres off the white sandy beach; and the recentlyopened Play, an island that adds new restaurants, activities and accommodation options ideally suited for families and the active. For couples looking for romance, but who don’t want to while their days away by the pool, it’s ideal. We check in to our beach pavilion with pool as the sun hangs low, signalling the end of another day in paradise. Our room is spacious and modern without being flashy: there’s a separate master bedroom, an elegant garden at the back complete with outdoor shower, a spacious bathroom with a deep soak tub, and a cavernous lounge that looks out across the sea. The pink sky is captured in a reflection that runs the length of our private plunge pool, the mirror-like waters of the lagoon only metres away across a pristine, deserted beach. There is time for a dip and a chilled

After breakfast, we cruise back to the main resort pier to don flippers and masks. We are heading out — this time above the water — to Niyama’s own private picnic island, for a spot of guided snorkelling and a romantic picnic lunch on a deserted shaded beach. We race across the still lagoon and watch as couples and families start their day under the sun, taking a dip in the lagoon or breakfasting at Blu, the resort’s new Mediterraneanthemed all-day dining restaurant, wreathed around one of the most beautiful infinity pools in the Maldives. The colours of the island — red and yellow umbrellas, brilliant white sand, lush green canopies, impossibly blue water, and the yellow of an arriving seaplane — are intensified as they can only be at the heart of the Indian Ocean. It makes every return to the Maldives like a first encounter. The perfect counter-balance to a day spent on the beach is a treatment at the resort’s Lime Spa. The key here is heritage and innovation in equal measure: visitors can try a host of signature treatments using island coconut oil or Maldivian sand, align their chakras in SubLime — a serene garden with sauna and steam rooms and pools — and fight off the jetlag with one of the ‘After Dark’ rituals that promise to send us directly to a tropically-inspired Cloud Nine. That evening we head to the trees and Per Aquum Niyama’s newest creation: Nest. This unique restaurant features a menu packed with Asian flavours: there’s a teppanyaki hot plate downstairs, but for a true experience, ascend the stairs to the canopy walkways which link the separate dining areas of the multi-level treehouse. Each private pod is suspended 6 metres above the lush island jungle and offers an enchanting and utterly romantic escape amongst the treetops.

TITLE PAGE. A dhoni, a multi-purpose sailboat with a motor or lateen sails used in the Maldives

BELOW. Dining on a sandbank

FOLLOWING PAGE. Clockwise from top left: saltwater flotation pool, daybed, and Lime Spa at Huvafen-Fushi; view from a water studio at Niyama

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It’s a quick seaplane flight and speed boat transfer to one of the Maldives’ most revered hideaways. The tiny and unassuming, but indulgent, Naladhu is a tropical oasis by Anantara. The beauty of Naladhu is that not only do its spacious and beautifully-appointed beach and ocean ‘houses’ offer unparalleled privacy (sufficient even for the late Saudi King, as well as a raft of millionaires and celebrities who regularly visit), but all the facilities and restaurants of Anantara Dhigu and Anantara Veli just across the lagoon are also available. We’re welcomed to the pint-sized island with the ringing of a traditional gong as Zahid, our shy but charming butler, leads us down manicured paths and through lush gardens to our beachfront abode. It is one of just 20 retreats at Naladhu, perfect for sun lovers and beach bunnies. With the décor of a sophisticated summer home, complete with elegant hardwood touches, walk-in wardrobe, a full wet bar with private wine cellar, and cutting-edge technology, the bungalow-style suite is ideal for couples looking to retire from the world beyond. French doors open onto a shaded sala with swing seat, a private plunge pool and a path that leads to a 30-metre stretch of idyllic sand. The bathroom is semi-open air, with a deep soak tub, and outdoor wall shower. That evening, we dine under the stars at Naladhu's sole restaurant, The Living Room. It has the ambience of a tropical private members' retreat, complete with its own glass-lined wine cellar. Long, lingering breakfasts at The Living Room are also a highlight of any Naladhu escape. But it’s not all somnolent living. The next morning, we meet with the team of TropicSurf at their centre at Anantara Veli. After a quick briefing, we’re hitting the sun-kissed beach, practicing our ‘chicken wings’, our ‘lizard legs’ and finally our ‘pop’. Within 10 minutes, we’re paddling surfboards across the tranquil waters of the lagoon. Maggie proves a natural, and with a push from our South African instructor, rides all the way into the beach. Even if I’m no Kelly Slater, the experience is exhilarating. TropicSurf offer everything from beginner classes right through to seaplane surf safaris on remote breaks.

After all that exertion, we elect to spend the afternoon in the cool of the Ocean Retreat, Naladhu’s intimate wellness retreat and certainly the most exclusive spa in the Maldives. With just one treatment room, the Ocean Retreat offers a range of half-day spa rituals, single treatments that include soaks, scrubs, massages and wraps, and even spa cuisine. Take a dip in the private pool, serenaded by the thundering surf that hammers against the sea walls as the therapists prepare, and then surrender to signature treatments like the Elemis Deep Tissue Massage or the Ocean Signature Massage, which uses a blend of oils to stimulate circulation and promote deep relaxation. That evening, positively floating through the coconut palms that fringe the tiny resort, we are led to the end of a pontoon where Zahid has prepared a candlelit dinner for two. Surrounded by the tranquillity of the lagoon, we watch stars emerge from the indigo skies and dine on locally caught lobster as if we were the last people left in the world. For those looking for a destination dining concept that’s bound to set hearts aflame, this is it. Our final stop on our romantic Maldivian escape needs little introduction. Awardwinning Per Aquum Huvafen Fushi, also in the North Malé atoll, is legendary among the luxury resorts of the Maldives. If Niyama is the modern face of the Indian Ocean and Naladhu is the best of tropical escapism, then Huvafen Fushi is the grande dame, a resort that regularly welcomes power brokers, captains of industry, international celebrities and travellers with a taste for the finer things in life. Home to just 43 private bungalows and pavilions, as well as the world’s first underwater spa, Huvafen Fushi has welcomed everyone from George Clooney and Kate Moss to Stefano Gabbana and John Galliano. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes had their honeymoon here, and for good reason: the resort offers intimate, personalised luxury without the hype of city hotels. Chinay, our ever-smiling butler who has been at Huvafen Fushi for 7 years, explains the resort’s amenities as he

serves champagne during a sunset cruise on one of Huvafen Fushi’s traditional dhoni yachts. It’s a magically romantic experience as we circumnavigate the island, the sky above turning a fiery peach hue before the inky darkness of night consumes it. That night, under a canopy of stars that reaches to the horizon, we sip cocktails at Raw, a super-sexy lounge with al fresco seating, before dining at Salt, an innovative seafood restaurant with tables perched above the lagoon, open kitchens and an enviable caviar selection. The next day, it’s hard to draw ourselves from the luxury of our ocean bungalow. Thoughtfully appointed, spacious and supremely private, the overwater villa faces the infinity of the Indian Ocean rather than the lagoon, ensuring no unwanted visitors as one might find at more crowed resorts. The main bedroom is cathedrallike, with soaring ceilings and polished wood floors, while the bathroom features a Jacuzzi that could accommodate a cricket team. Outside, on a three-tiered private deck, is an infinity plunge pool and a duo of sun loungers. We eventually emerge, if only to replace our solitude with more of the same, beginning with a spot of luxurious pampering at the Lime Spa’s breathtaking underwater treatment room. The space is surrounded by a vibrant house reef packed with inquisitive tropical fish. This is followed with a private champagne picnic on a secluded sandbank. Chinay and his team ferry us to our private white sand retreat by dhoni and leave us in the shade of an umbrella with a sumptuous lunch. That night, our last in the Maldives, we celebrate in subterranean style with a private wine-paired dinner at Vinum, the resort’s unique underground wine cellar; home to 6000 bottles and a dedicated sommelier. Then it's time for a return visit to Lime's underwater spa suite for a private exploration of the resort’s reef systems with the knowledgeable resident marine biologist. Donning goggles so that we might capture the fluorescent brilliance of the coral under UV lights is a mesmerising experience — just one of a beautifullycurated collection that lovers can look forward to at three of the Maldives’ most iconic and innovative retreats.

BELOW. Sunset at Raw lounge bar

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Travel Tracker

Things we love about the Maldives: The serenity, the endless sunshine, and the captivating coral reefs.

Currency: Maldivian Rufiyaa.

Getting there: Fly Singapore Airlines to Singapore and on to MalĂŠ.

Climate: Consistently warm, with high humidity offset by ocean breezes. Rainy season is May to October, so it's best to visit outside of these months.

Transport: There are quick speedboat transfers from the airport to both Naladhu and Per Aquum Huvafen Fushi. To reach Per Aquum Niyama requires a 40-minute seaplane flight with Maldivian Air, which can be booked by the resort.

Language: Dhivehi.

An ocean tumbled by with a private boat for Max...

CRUISE JOURNALS

MAX CUMMING WORDS BY MICHAEL HOOPER

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Happiness has many faces for Captain Max Cumming. Some belong to the world’s most wealthy, others to the simplest people and the creatures dotted across the oceans and islands of our planet. He has the good fortune to see them through the portholes of some of the grandest cruising yachts ever launched. To stand beside Max Cumming at the wheel of the world’s largest private schooner, the 90-metre super-yacht Athena, is extraordinary — not because the sleek teak three-masted sailboat is chartered for cruising at US$425,000 a week, nor for the luxury of its five, warmly timbered cabins, one of which boasts an ensuite spa and library. It is because the skipper is as casual as if he were behind the wheel of a Mini, yet on the bridge we face seven flat screens that are windows to some 2600 different monitor readings. However, Max remains nonchalant — it seems this ‘bridge to the world’ is his happy place. “The sea is the ultimate accomplice of human restlessness,” wrote Joseph Conrad, one of Max’s childhood influences (Mark Twain was another). In his memoir Senses: A Circumnavigation with Style, Max also quotes the words of explorer Ferdinand Magellan: “The sea is dangerous and its storms terrible, but these obstacles have never been sufficient reason to remain ashore.” Such wanderlust was in Max’s genes, having a touring singer for a mother and a professional skipper for a father. “I grew up with the concept that people always travelled,” he admits of his nomadic beginnings. With his family, Max Cumming was deposited “at a fairly young age” on the isolated northern Cook Islands, in the early 70s — on a 3-month, seminal visit that was to end up lasting 6 years. There was “No airport, no electricity. No two-way radios. We had a Morse code key when I arrived. The ship came three or four times a year if you were lucky, brought the mail and took things away.” He had a pet turtle he would swim with. He also had a pet booby bird named Aqualung, who would accompany Max and his dad pearl shell diving each day before heading out fishing and returning home to

sit with the family at the table. Returning to New Zealand from the Cook Islands for his 21st birthday, Max took up the same occupation as many other occupants of Russell at the time: fisherman. In a style that was to stick, he didn’t join a crew — he bought a boat. “There was a huge fleet, and I was about number sixty.” His island upbringing had predisposed him to a broader view of nature than most. “I can’t even remember people using the word ‘conservation’ in those days.” Even so, it was the commercial fishermen who drove marine conservation — at least to some extent. “It had been rape and pillage, and they knew the extent of the damage they were doing,” recalls Max. Still, “The only people that counted fish were the people that were paying for them.” Then the quota system came in, putting many fisher-folk out of business, a move Max characterises as ‘brave’ of the then-government. On the surface, says Max, the superyacht community is conservation-minded too. However, “On the other hand, there you are running large generators for just a few rich people and a few crew. You go to a place like Antarctica or the Galapagos, serious bits of wilderness, and you find yourself daunted by how wonderful it can all be; then you find yourself in the total industrialisation of a Singapore shipyard with acid rain falling and making your paint go funny colours. I guess cruising and yachting is a vehicle for seeing all extremes of how we are looking after the planet — or not.” Max is also an accomplished photographer, and looking through images of the insouciant, almost aristocratic progress of some of his superyacht masters, I propose that there exists a cruising dichotomy for us all: is this simply a way for wealthy people to travel the world, viewing the poor? The sight of a ship with a helipad, arriving in a subsistence economy, must generate questions on both sides. “You are almost looking at it through a golden porthole,” agrees Max. “You go ashore in some very poor places

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TITLE PAGE. Top to bottom: turtle spotting, navigating the Corinth Canal in the Aegean Sea

OPPOSITE. Clockwise from top left: going aloft in heavy seas, Max Cumming in his element, departing Venice

and rock up, right off their doorstep, in this very wealthy yacht. They often don’t really understand what the boat is out there, how luxurious it is, and how rich these people are. You do feel quite odd about it sometimes, but all you can do is not make anything worse… and assist if you can.” Max cites a yacht owner who instructed his crew to stay after the Vanuatu cyclone and help for as long as necessary, among other things making and distributing fresh water. Similarly, the group Yacht Aid Global works to coordinate assistance in disaster areas. Max would find it very difficult to work for an owner that didn’t have some sort of social conscience, he confesses, and he has been fortunate in that regard.

DRAGONS, NETS AND PIRATES Days from land, and even surrounded by ice floes, the degree of feeling remote and vulnerable on a voyage depends on location, Max says. “If you go to Antarctica you are very alone. You may have everything onboard the boat, but if it stops… it can be fatal.”

This means that Max appreciates a sense of isolation where he can get it: on a recent voyage to Australia on a boat without internet access, he found “We were back in the rhythm of doing our watches, being out on deck, getting hit in the head by a flying fish… it reminds you that you’re back at sea.” The natural world holds a fascination for Max, and usually for those who cruise with him. Of all the creatures he’s encountered, from a girl’s pet sloth in the Amazon to fishing for piranhas, one of the most amazing is the Komodo dragon, a 3-metre-long example of which he photographed lounging on a volleyball court on the eponymous island. Max explains the enchantment, noting that “They can move quickly over short distances. That’s their strength really. They will get one kind-of soft bite in on the ankle of a cow, or even a human, then a toxin goes to work and takes about

Another important consideration when it comes to the isolation of yachting is security, and like many sailors who knew the murdered Sir Peter Blake, Max is aware of the risk of piracy, especially in notorious areas such as the Gulf of Aden or Somalia, where his boats have been chased twice. He says piracy is also increasing around Indonesia, Vietnam and West Africa. However, “We’re professionals, so we have plans and take advice. There are ways to go through [the Gulf] safely. Most yachts now either get security people on board or join a convoy with two warships to go through.” Still, a concerning new development is the taking of hostages for ransom. Max advises, “If you feel you must transit those areas, you are taking your life into your hands and I wouldn’t rely on chance. They have ways of getting up the side of some big boats now, and yachts are easy pickings.“ Among the advantages that luxury yachts enjoy in this respect are their speed, technology and communications. “You call up the International Piracy Centre in Kuala Lumpur, and they know who’s in your region.” Max recalls being chased by pirates and having the Centre call in the French Air Force from Djibouti: “They shooed the pirates away with a couple of Mirage jets.”

PEOPLE ARE PEOPLE Max has skippered and helmed trips for celebrities, aristocracy and even royalty. What effect does this all have on a Kiwi boy who went to sea — rubbing shoulders with the rich, famous, and titled? “It certainly opens your mind. You come to realise that people are people, whatever background they have. Many are very successful. Some are born with a silver spoon, but a hell of a lot are self-made.” I get a sense that Max is looking less to the wild side these days, and more to his newly-married status for life’s satisfactions. He reflects that “One common thing I’ve heard repeated by a lot of the wealthy and more successful, is that they’ve come to the realisation they should have devoted more time to their families, rather than the constant pursuit of money. The self-made business people, particularly, find it very hard to get away from the empires they’ve created.” Max has come to the realisation that “true wealth really is your happiness and your time.”

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It also depends on the net — but not the fishing kind. The advent of the internet at sea has diminished the frisson of being in the wild. It’s more and more difficult to get the exhilarating sense of being ‘away from it all’, one of the reasons people used to undertake voyages. Now we seem to take a lot of civilisation along with us, observes Max. “It can be blowing a raging storm outside and my crew will be in their mess watching a Bruce Willis DVD or checking emails.”

two days to kill, and they just walk slowly behind. There are great instances of people being chased down wharves and just leaping into the sea to escape them.”

CRUISING NEW ZEALAND

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WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY BY MICHAEL HOOPER

Even after 20 years in the Royal Navy, my father would get seasick if someone swirled the ice in a cocktail glass. If the acorn does not fall far from the tree, my career choice as a cruise writer and editor might therefore seem unlikely or, at best, masochistic. However, it was with relish that I took advantage of one of the regular cruises around Aotearoa (New Zealand), to see how my country looked from the ‘other side’. The vehicle, operated by Celebrity Cruises, was a little slice of America called Millennium, a 2000-passenger ship of modest size and sleek lines, certainly by comparison with some of the world’s newest floating apartment blocks. This voyage would raise the curtain on a land that was named from the call of a lookout on the canoe of Kupe, a legendary Maori navigator. Now, it was my turn to follow the long white cloud that dapples daylight on indigo waves and daubs the cities and towns snuggling into New Zealand’s coastline — from indifferent Auckland to innocent Port Chalmers, and from the wind-blasted cleavage of Wellington’s hills to the breathless silence of the Marlborough Sounds. Almost as soon we left Auckland’s temporary ocean terminal, the city was airbrushed from view by cloud pulled over our heads from the direction of Rangitoto Island. We ventured out into the Hauraki Gulf, towards a night of what was predicted to be very rough seas, but proved no more than a lullaby. At dawn, our 92,000 tonnes quietly slid through the shallows into Mount Maunganui, where shopkeepers were already wide awake with deals to tempt tourists. This was one of the few docks permitting pedestrian access, making trips to the nearby opportunist retail town easy and pleasant. The town staged a main street school kapa haka concert, with the added spice of logging trucks lumbering through the streets, threatening to skittle the appreciative audience.

Some Americans discussed a puzzling sign: ‘$11 lunch including flat white'. One inventive bar advertised: 'Husband crèche: leave him here, pick him up when you’ve finished shopping, and pay only the bar tab'. Other cafés had deals for ship’s crew, while stores selling bottled water did a gurgling trade as it was permitted to take water aboard (unlike wine) to consume in the privacy of one's cabin. “This,” drawled one Connecticut shopper, “is the first place we’ve been in 2 months that doesn’t take American dollars. Why is that?” I drew deeply on the straw of my daiquiri as we let go lines from the port frontage and slipped with the tide through the sand traps of Mount Maunganui’s harbour entrance, past surf-sprayed Matakana Island and into seas once again forecast to be 'very rough'. The band played ‘Hit the Road, Jack’, and I quietly congratulated the nation’s first port for turning a positive and playful Kiwi face to tourists from the floating city. Bucking seas lined the far horizon, but there was surprisingly little roll. There was also very little rock, thanks to a rest home-ready DJ and a Filipino band with little beat. Yet more warnings about foul weather ahead permeated the entertainment deck, as we were treated to Dido singing about going down with the ship and the Hughes Corporation crooned ‘Rock the Boat’. The oft-played theme from Titanic was especially spooky in the Olympic Restaurant, where foie gras and champagne were served under wood panel walls recycled from Titanic’s sister ship, Olympic. When the gigantic liner was scrapped, the inlaid and intricate panelling of her formal dining room was bought to furnish an American mansion. Celebrity Cruises found out, and in turn bought the house to get the panelling, which it shipped to its fitters in France to recreate the famed silver-service restaurant. With demand for its classic menus regulated by a US$30 cover charge, the

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Olympic Restaurant was seldom busy, and attracted us back time after time with its extreme service, gleaming silver cloches, deeply bowing maître d’ and a petite Russian sommelier with a knack for selling vintage Champagne. The menu, executed to absolute perfection, could well have come from those Titanic times, including a fantastic mature cheese trolley with Livarot, Forme d’Ambert and La Nectare. However, this was not the night (nor indeed the lifetime) to consider the 1949 Chateau Petrus listed at US$12,400 — plus 15 percent service charge. Though impressive, on reflection the menu seemed rather at odds with the environment we were exploring. Thanksgiving dinner included a 'Fall Salad', but spring was in full flush ashore. Most of the food, even fish, had come from other seas. The high-priced wine list barely nodded towards the glory of vineyards often visible from the gangway, and bringing wine aboard for consumption with a meal was effectively prohibited by corkage greater than the cost of most bottles. Napier turned on not just a hot and beautiful wine country day, but a real art deco welcome, with a jazz vocalist and the Hawke’s Bay Vintage Car Club greeting us on the dock. Edward Harrington-Smythe introduced me to 'Wee Petal', his 1937 Austin Seven, and Deco Ambassador Clarence Bertram St John Fitz-Montague (better known as Bertie) breezed around the tidy, colourful streets, chirping helpful hints to the obvious ship visitors from his open-top 1935 Austin Seven Sports Special. My nose led me past countless cafés until the superb crema on cups from the Zigg Zagg Café enticed me in for one of the most delicious espressos I’ve ever tasted, something not replicated aboard. Across Clive Square, passengers actually queued to enter the Deco Shop and purchase memorabilia. What a well-deserved bonanza for Napier, I mused over my latte. Molls, dames and toffs lined up again on the dock, along with their Chevvies and Austins, to wave farewell as we sailed into the sunset. Meanwhile, local group The Stompers jazzed up ‘Now is the Hour’. As the last flapper flopped into her roadster, I contemplated the perfect end to a day

embodying the deco era, with classic high society cuisine, again at the Olympic. “Welcome back, sir,” bowed the maître d’, by now bending near-horizontal, as I sank into a sea of rising bubbles. A familiar spot viewed from the sea seems a much different place. Wellington, New Zealand’s capital city, was gleaming in the morning sun with no sign of its grey government worker ants. A solitary piper played as we tied up by the 'Cake Tin' stadium, our observation deck high enough for a free view of any event. Walking aimlessly around my old stomping ground brought me to a new appreciation for it. Courtenay Place is the hub, but if the port night is Thursday, Friday or Saturday, walking safely requires one eye on the pavement and one keeping a ‘weather eye’ on the bustling traffic passing by. The cable car still charms, and the waterfront beckons with weathered wharves and welcoming cafés and restaurants. Apartment conversion and conservation of many old buildings has thankfully halted the capital’s decline into faceless 'progress', and its personality oozes from old Newtown and the city streets south of Courtenay Place. Sailing out from my home town had more effect than even the excitement of our initial departure from my adopted Auckland — perhaps akin to the difference between leaving a parent and leaving a lover. The wind whisked up a foamy fadeout over the rocky fingers clawing Cook Strait from Island and Houghton Bays, before the ship’s festivities drew us indoors. A port for Christchurch is one of the hot topics of post-earthquake cruising. Lyttelton — which was economically stretched even before the quake — suffered cruelly, and the stoush between tourism and forestry-driven industry seems set to resume as the port rebuild gathers momentum. The pressing into service of tiny Akaroa village as an alternative destination has pushed that charming settlement to its hospitable limits. At dawn the next day, as gilded sheep peered from volcanic slopes, our wake

bisected the silky waters between Aramoana and the Otago Peninsula on our approach to Dunedin’s Port Chalmers. In eerie silence, the charcoal smudge of our ship’s tall shadow brushed over bluffs still wet from the dew and starting to steam in the sun’s first tentative tint. Bright blue port cranes, like triffids astride their prey of cargo containers, and Chick’s Hotel up the hill as a counterpoint to its neighbouring historic church, welcomed us to the town’s two sleepy streets. There was relief at setting foot on a dock that, even in a tiny town, would lead to locally-roasted coffee within the melt of a moment: a short wander, an espresso, and then a libation of Speight's southern ales seemed in order. It was chilly in the main street, but two likely local lads jollied into the pub in shorts and jandals, whooped at seeing the blackboard’s raffle winners, then disappeared without a drink — presumably to spread the good news to the lucky 'Taffy and Cruddy'. With southern candour, the sign in the pub’s pot plants pleaded, 'No pissing, no butts'. Broad locals and drawling Canadians from the ship sought translators as they raised pints of order in eager cultural interchange. Tall bar stools and 'leaners' with black tubular legs reprised the days of New Zealand’s once-infamous ‘6 o’clock swill’, while a tile glued across the hole in the centre of each table emphasised the more recent prohibition on smoking. Irresistible home-smoked wild salmon from a local fish shop went back with us for cabin canapés. The gentle rise and fall of an ancient crater’s ridges and hills, and coastal crags rimmed with a salt crust of seabirds guided us out from Port Chalmers and south into the already grinding teeth of a gale. A night of light food and wine intake led to a lullaby of sweet sleep through rising seas, before an early, single-figure chill as we slid into the welcome calm and slate-grey waters of Fiordland’s sounds. Dusky Sound, its granite escarpments shouldered in halo-bright mist, delivered on the calendar picture promise: tall, silver-white waterfalls cracked the lush bush amid cascading mountain-sides, while an onboard naturalist bubbled with information over the ship’s speakers. Fifty

TITLE PAGE. Clockwise from top: Deco Ambassador 'Bertie' St John Fitz-Montague, examples of the Art Deco architecure in Napier

BELOW. Doubtful Sound

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thousand seals would have warily watched Cook entering Dusky Sound. Now just a small percentage of that number watches the passage of humankind. Fortunately, there is a tentative recovery underway. Past Resolution Island we slid out from the protection of Dusky Sound. The environmental officer had already secured the ship, which is sealed up when in protected and scenic waters. “We shut everything down,” he told me. “No discharges, no incineration.” Anything that is pulped, such as food waste, is sent to the sea only at speeds greater than 6 knots and at least 12 nautical miles from land in this environmentally-conscious cruise line. Our passage was reverential. On we plied, past Pickersgill Harbour, by the Shelter Islands, and into Doubtful Sound in even brighter patches of light. Glacial hanging valleys fell to sharply

etched crevasses scarring the fiord walls, as we peered to see the few bottlenose dolphins that chose to accompany us. Our exit through Thomson Sound into the open sea brought banshee howls in the hawsers. “Swells of up to 7 metres and winds of 50 knots are forecast,” boomed the heavily-accented voice of Captain Zisis Taramas. “Please do not wear high heels... and enjoy this lovely evening." Fourteen decks of cabins stowed their stilettos and quickly gulped ginger tablets as Millennium ploughed through the wild, deep-south whitecaps. The rolling, heaving, swells seemed to provide up-drafts for the graceful albatrosses, shearwaters and other seabirds that skimmed the mountain peaks, only occasionally dipping a wingtip in the water. Our entry into Milford Sound had

to be postponed as the wind whipped the sea into a line of massive, foam-specked waves barring entry to the northern-most of 16 fiords. The cruise director broadcast with unflagging Kermit-the-Frog enthusiasm that conditions would be “challenging” for Millennium. So, for a couple of hours we circled under white-capped Mitre Peak as the band played on, until the position of the sun betrayed that we had indeed come about to a west-nor’west bearing, heading in the direction of Australia and the conclusion of our voyage. Millennium may be only 15 years old, but she exudes the elegance of a more distant past. It made her a fitting ship to see my country from the same perspective as the mariners both Maori and European, who discovered my fatherland. And I also reckon my sea legs did the old man proud.

ISLANDS ON OUR MIND

AN ISLAND TO O N E S E L F WORDS BY DEV CAPEY

Islands, mythical and alluring, are deeply etched into the human psyche. Whether desolate and arid, or palm-fringed and romantic, islands are 164 / Islands on Our Mind

seen as places of escape and exile, solitude and isolation: they can be time capsules for culture and tradition, sites of eccentric evolution, or just beautiful paradises for daydreamers.

Islands have long been literary devices in our folklore and legends and in some of our most recognisable novels and films â&#x20AC;&#x201D; acting as character and metaphor as much as setting. They are their own special worlds, almost unknown to the continental land masses that are, comparatively speaking, so enormous, diverse, and modern â&#x20AC;&#x201D; and often so far away.

With their own mythical magnetism, islands continue to attract escapists seeking far-away locations that have the feeling of being untouched or unspoiled by outside influence. And as certain island retreats grow in popularity, there is a constant drive to find new destinations more extreme in their isolation, remoteness and disconnection.

In these secluded, far-away reaches, some luxury providers are combining the fantasy of escape with lavish provisions and expertly-guided explorations of both archetypal and highly distinctive landscapes, rich in natural wonders and cultural heritage.

EXPLORA, RAPA NUI Rapa Nui, or Easter Island, constitutes the eastern-most corner of the 'Polynesian triangle'. It remains Polynesia’s forgotten brother, enigmatic and alluring; its culture so close to being distilled down to little more than the infamous stone statues erected by its imperilled inhabitants. Today, Rapa Nui is one of the Pacific’s most mystifying of outposts, full of historical curiosities and a landscape that is quite atypical among the more accessible islands that dot the central and western Pacific. Luxury provider explora — experts in remote locations, active and in-depth explorations — brings an approach to services that straddles the divide between luxury provision and the rawness of the surrounding landscape. Explore this remote island on foot, by boat or bicycle, and witness its magnetic austerity and rich and mysterious cultural heritage.

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PIKAIA LODGE, GALAPAGOS No place captures the strangeness of evolution in exile than the isolated islands of the Galapagos. Here, geographical disconnection has generated some of Earth’s most distinctive endemic species and ecosystems. Hammerhead sharks, marine iguanas, giant tortoises, penguins and a litany of other unique creatures inhabit this archipelago’s 19 isles. Pikaia Lodge is one of the Galapagos’ newest luxury providers. Built atop an extinct volcanic crater, Pikaia Lodge is the perfect base for exploring the unique natural landscape and the strange creatures that have occupied these lands for thousands of years. Pikaia is geared towards the environmentally conscious and physically active traveller: be prepared for guided explorations to empty beaches, species-rich marine ecosystems, and across the islands’ unique land features.

Hosting British Columbia’s capital of Victoria along with other metropolitan areas, Vancouver Island might not be the most far-away of isles. But hidden in its northern and western regions, among the island’s sounds, valleys, mountains and rivers, are some of Canada’s wildest and most underrated locations. Travel by seaplane to Clayoquot Wilderness Resort — nestled in an ice-scoured valley — and stay in their rustic, prospector-style tents, tastefully adorned with wood-burners, opulent carpets, and antique furniture. Experience tailor-made wilderness experiences that range from surfing the West Coast’s empty shores, kayaking down rapids or across calm fiords, and witness an impressive array of wildlife on a real Canadian safari.

For an extended photo essay click here.

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CLAYOQUOT WILDERNESS RESORT, CANADA

FOGO ISLAND INN, NEWFOUNDLAND At Canada’s easternmost extreme, the island province of Newfoundland harbours more than 7000 smaller islands. Among them is the isle of Fogo, famous for its capricious marine climate, and its welcoming and eccentric band of locals. A modernist structure built upon the island’s stark and craggy coastline, the Fogo Island Inn marries avant-garde architecture with bespoke furnishings representative of the island’s craft heritage. The large and soulful rooms are decorated with locally-crafted furniture and textiles, equipped with fireplaces and floor-to-ceiling windows that look upon the tempestuous expanse that is the North Atlantic. Spotting icebergs and humpback whales from the Finnish-style rooftop sauna is part of the daily routine — sounds good to us.

For a video exploring Canada's Fogo Island, click right.

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DESROCHES ISLAND, SEYCHELLES Tropical islands are the ultimate icons of idealised escapism: places where one can swap the harsh colours of modernity for the cool greens, greys and blues of island life. The islands of the Seychelles are dwarfed by the endless emerald waters amongst which they’re scattered. Formerly a sleepy coconut plantation, Desroches Island is the Amirante Group’s only island, offering exclusive, high-end accommodation. When all tropical island fantasies have been satisfied on the island’s 14 kilometres of empty beaches and by Desroches’ fine dining, massage and spa treatments, we’d recommend the fishing. The Seychelles’ enormous exclusive economic zone contains some of the richest, least exploited marine environments, making it a veritable paradise for sport fishing. For those looking for dreamy, tropical island perfection, Desroches is almost too good to be true.

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CARRIER LUXURY CAMP, ICELAND Eighty percent of Iceland is uninhabited: think plateaus and mountain peaks; long, winding fjords and glaciers; geysers, waterfalls, active lava fields and steamy hot springs. Luxury holiday specialist Carrier can drop visitors right into Icelandic obscurity. At the opulent end of the camping spectrum, the tents are all antique wooden furnishings, warm rugs and wood-burners, personally catered and hosted, and surrounded by an untouched landscape — cold, stark and incredibly beautiful. In the sub-Arctic wilderness of one of Europe’s farthest reaches, one couldn’t get much further from habitable human environments than this — yet still feel in the lap of luxury.

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AN ISLAND REFUGE WORDS BY STEPHEN BROWN

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Location: LANGKAWI ISLAND, MALAYSIA

of true progress. The juxtaposition of the super trees against the Star Wars-like profile of the Marina Sands hotel — signposting Singapore’s casino — is just a little too symptomatic of a world that has turned its back on nature, at least in its raw, un-sanitised form.

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The contrast with our new-found ‘home’ on Langkawi Island — just over an hour’s flight north of Singapore — could hardly be more striking. The Langkawi Global Geoforest Park was attributed World Heritage status in 2007. It embraces some of the oldest and most spectacular topographic formations within Malaysia, while the carpet of very real jungle spread around and across them is framed by spectacular coastlines and luxuriant mangrove forests. Outlying islands also form part of the ‘geopark’, while Thailand’s Ko Sarai — visible to the north, but just outside the geopark — is also layered by sharply defined peaks and a broad expanse of remnant rainforest. Indeed, this area has remained relatively remote and little-known throughout most of the 20th century. Until occupied by the Japanese in early 1942, it was perhaps best-known for the British Army’s penal facility on the neighbouring Andaman Islands. Today, the northern coastline of Langkawi Island still retains a cove colloquially known as 'Skull Bay', where locals despatched escapees from both the army detention centre and a Thai prison on Ko Sarai before they had the opportunity to foment any ‘trouble’ with local women. Rain is beating an insistent tattoo on the hotel roof, and as I observe the drops pounding the foliage outside our room, I am acutely aware that my view is a melange of different shades of green — yet devoid of the manicured terraces and gardens that are the hallmark of most tropical resorts. Indeed, as I have already discovered, the Langkawi experience contrasts markedly with that of most of 21st-century Southeast Asia. Only days before, we had been in a much drier Singapore, with its skyscrapers, harbour promenades, shopping centres galore, a teeming mass of humanity and a veritable ‘jungle’ of metal barriers to accommodate the upcoming Formula One Grand Prix through downtown streets. Still, our local tour guide proudly assured us that 15% of the city-state’s land area is retained as jungle, “containing more biodiversity than all the forests of the North American continent combined.” However, our visit to Singapore’s fascinating zoo also revealed that fewer than 300 lions still roam free in the ever-dwindling forests of neighbouring Malaysia, while the seemingly insatiable demand for ivory and habitat loss continue to take an accelerating toll on Asia’s elephant herds and rhinos. The heavy stain of smoke hanging across Singapore’s skyline from forest fires across nearby Sumatra served to aptly reinforce the depletion of the region’s natural heritage. Even the recently-opened Gardens by the Bay seemed rather symbolic of the way in which nature here has been tamed and reconfigured for a family-friendly audience. The ‘super trees’ that provide the visual centrepiece for the gardens comprise a spectacular confection of flower-like structures — complete with skywalk and daily light show — that arch out over real trees and manicured beds below, while the equally spectacular waterfall within the ‘Cloud Forest’ also clearly resonates with locals and tourists alike. Yet, the very contrivance of these features and their idealisation of nature seems somehow more evocative of what Southeast Asia has lost — and continues to lose — rather than

Fortunately, in 2015 the term ‘Andaman’ is more commonly associated with rather more salubrious accommodation and a somewhat more welcoming arrival experience. Sitting on the edge of Datai Bay, near the north-western tip of Langkawi Island, The Andaman resort offers guests a rare sense of engagement with landforms and ecosystems that date back some 550 million years. Indeed, most of its visitor facilities are located inside the jungle’s margins, with a swathe of mature trees and undergrowth separating the greater bulk of the hotel from an expansive, sand-lined beachfront. The hotel’s swimming pool wends its way between islands of trees and underplanting, while the entire forest frontage provides an attractive playground, roost and food source for a variety of local wildlife. However, in December 2004, this swathe of vegetation contributed to far more than just the hotel’s aesthetic appeal, as it broke up a series of 5-metre waves — part of the Boxing Day Tsunami — that swept across the Datai Bay beachfront and hotel grounds. Nearly 11 years on, the scars of that tragic event are still periodically unveiled. A low tide in the course of our stay reveals much of the local coral reef still caked in sediment, with just the bay’s brain coral and one rather forlorn-looking green coral managing to lift their ‘heads’ above this debris. The Andaman’s own constructed coral 'garden' — in a large pool, complete with reef fish — offers insight into just how much has been lost around the margins of the Andaman Sea and Bay of Bengal as a result of that one tragic event. Thankfully, the effects on other local flora and fauna have been less enduring. Even those guests seemingly wedded to their poolside loungers and the beachfront find it impossible to ignore the troops of dusky monkeys and macaques gambolling in the tree tops, while a surprisingly large number of return guests seem only too happy to regale newcomers with tales of

TITLE PAGE. Seven Wells Waterfall Photo by Stephen Brown

TOP. Monitor lizard

BOTTOM. Gardens by the Bay Photo by Stephen Brown

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agile primates raiding their rooms in the hunt for chocolate bars and sugar. More commonly, though, the animal inhabitants simply swing through the tree canopy and chatter loudly, watched warily by hotel staff. On the other hand, my leisurely swim across the swimming pool turns to a brief moment of panic as I suddenly realise I am gaining on a monitor lizard, while a flock of hornbills perched noisily above our loungers one morning present a rather different form of ‘hazard’. Other stories of close encounters abound — from the sudden meeting with a small ringed snake outside my front door to the paw prints that have us firmly convinced a leopard had been down to explore the beachfront overnight. Each evening, the walkways behind the accommodation wings turn into viewing platforms as flying lemurs slowly prepare to launch themselves — in highly aerobatic fashion — from tree to tree. The estuary next to the hotel is renowned for mud banks on which monitor lizards laze and soak up the rays, while overhead, brightly-coloured kingfishers — brown and orange, as well as blue and green — dive from cover and squirrels turn the trees and branches around us into an aerial super-highway. On the walk down to one local beach, we hear the squeal of the ‘night-time gardeners’ — a herd of wild pigs — but these soon disappear, to be replaced by the cries of ever-watchful macaques. Dolphins are clearly visible offshore one evening, while fishing eagles and ospreys hover over our waterfront walks. Away from The Andaman, day trips to the ‘real’ jungle, mangrove forests and the Kilim Karst Geoforest cater for visitors seeking a deeper understanding of Langkawi’s remarkably diverse ecology. However, for those wanting more of an overview of the island, a gondola ride to the top of Mt Machinchang serves to both extol the panoramic virtues of Langkawi’s limestone spine and scare the living daylights out of anyone even remotely

nervous of heights: the initial ride to the middle station is extreme enough, but the final, peak-to-peak approach to Mt Machinchang is even more breath-taking. The ‘sky walk’ from near the gondola’s top station — traversing a chasm between two peaks — is no less challenging for the faint-hearted.

breeds extreme responses. Closer at hand, the sight of plastic bottles strewn along roadsides is a perennial issue, while the odd dead monkey and even a dead monitor lizard on local roads reflect the fundamental incompatibility of wildlife with many of the accoutrements of human ‘civilisation’.

Unfortunately, the faux Asian market village at the foot of the gondola reeks of commercialism with a Disney touch, but little real substance. Rather more appealing is the quick side trip to the Seven Wells Waterfall close by. Although the steep climb to the pools above the waterfall in 30-degree Celsius temperatures and 90 percent humidity takes a rapid toll on both calf muscles and fluid reserves, the view is well worth the effort and, of more immediate importance, the water is wonderfully cool.

Even so, it would be churlish to suggest that Langkawi is anything less than special. Throughout much of Southeast Asia, natural ecosystems, already reduced to shredded fragments among roads, settlements, marinas and palm oil plantations, simply cannot be replaced by symbolic re-creations. By contrast, Langkawi’s geopark offers a glimpse of the price to be paid for uncontrolled human expansion, a short-term refuge within which stock can be taken of those things that will be really important and valuable in the future.

Both the gondola ride and clamber around the falls also serve to remind us just how precious this ‘geopark’ experience is. Even with World Heritage status, there is a real sense that Langkawi’s parklands are under pressure. Housing, roading, plantations and tourist developments — from low-key lodges nestled in the jungle to golf courses carved out of it — are already eroding parts of the geopark, and even though jungle is spread across the northern spine of Langkawi, its key reserves are split in two, with the Machinchang Cambrian Geoforest Park and the larger Kilim Karst Geoforest Park at opposite ends of the island. Looking out from The Andaman’s beachfront one afternoon, I watch as eight Thai fishing boats belch black diesel into the air and scour the waters between Datai Bay and Ko Sarai. Locals talk of fish stocks running out within 5 to 10 years, and of the fishermen then resorting to piracy to eke out some form of near-subsistence living. It’s not a vision for the future that sits well with the spectacular panorama in front of me, but I suppose desperation

Such engagement also has a frisson of danger: the paw prints in the sand and the inadvertent meeting with a tiny snake. Still, resorts like The Andaman, and the environment that supports them, make such interaction a truly positive experience. In the process, such contact educates, motivates and inspires: it is hard to imagine anyone leaving The Andaman and Datai Bay without newfound appreciation for the forests and coastal habitats that surround this resort enclave, or greater understanding of the wealth of wildlife that even a small area of forest supports. Ultimately, such experiences may well be all that stands between the retention of the last of these ‘wilderness’ areas and the blade of the bulldozer.

To learn more about the Andaman, click left.

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ABOVE. Macaque monkey Photo by Zachary Voo

Then all around from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat...

EPICUREAN T R AV E L L E R

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GIVING THE WINE SOME AIR

Taking to the skies brings out new personalities in familiar wines.

WORDS BY MICHAEL HOOPER

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A wild party is needed to create wine. One drop of fermenting grape juice may have 5 million yeast cells. When the conditions are right in the vat, they start to sway. They chomp through the grape sugars, indulge in frantic reproduction, then sink to a glorious death, leaving wine as their hangover. Wild yeast occurs practically everywhere, and, as anyone who has made sourdough bread from scratch would know, it can be unpredictable. In wine, these yeasts impart complexity and sometimes a slightly 'feral' quality that adds intrigue. Wine flavours, however, will taste quite different in a pressurised cabin, where these Bacchanalian beasties may be best replaced by the 'cultured' yeasts whose behaviour is more predictable. The best airlines employ internationally renowned specialists, such as Oz Clarke or Bob Campbell, to help them find the balance between bland and brash in the wines they serve. Some airlines take wine service more seriously than others, and surprisingly it is not always airlines from wine producing countries that have the best selection and service. On a recent long flight with the national airline of a classic wine country, red was the only colour available, served from 187ml bottles. When I queried the lack of selection, I was assured that they did actually carry “both wines." Wine service is a key distinguishing feature of airline market positioning, especially for business class, so the stakes are high. Airlines on which I have personally experienced consistently good, even remarkable wine service, include Singapore Airlines, Air New Zealand and Qantas. It may seem a small thing, but the service ethos of all three is illustrated by the pouring of wine from the bottle, rather than the single serve piccolo. If a passenger is lucky enough to fly first class, the sky really is the limit, with

Chateau Lynch Bages and Champagne Krug served on Cathay Pacific. At the end of last year, Emirates announced they had spent US$500 million on wine over the last decade, much of this en primeur — buying in advance of release. They own a cellar in Burgundy which stockpiles and ages wines, with evidently well over a million bottles. Emirates president Sir Tim Clark believes that “wine is an experience," and draws parallels between the experience created onboard with that of fine dining restaurants. Air New Zealand has headlined its positioning through ongoing sponsorship of the eponymous country’s highest profile wine awards. “The airline is the largest single server of New Zealand wines,” says spokesperson Kelly Kilgour. This entails approximately 6.5 million glasses served to customers each year. For Air New Zealand, this is "a relationship that extends well beyond the inflight service," with the close association between the airline and official industry organisation New Zealand Winegrowers spanning decades. The partnership goes beyond the journey itself, with the aim of promoting New Zealand as a wine tourism destination. Singapore Airlines recently took the serious step of commissioning Oz Clarke to help choose its wines, and work in sessions with sommeliers and crew. He was impressed that, even on his first flights in the new consultant capacity, he encountered good wine knowledge in the cabin crew. “Singapore is a fantastic wine drinking city... There’s a fairly good chance that quite a lot of the people who work in the cabin will like wine as well. If I’m on a flight which is not too busy, I manage to go up to the galley and chat about wines — even in the middle of the night.” He quickly points out, however, that these days crew do not partake in flight. My own recent experience showed me that Clarke has a definite task ahead of him, even on Singapore Airlines. The

first thing cabin crew need to know, he says, is that there are sharper and softer styles of wine, and terminology to discuss this. Crew "need the ability to talk about sauvignon blanc as being fruitier, sharper and fresher and waking you up a little bit, whereas a chardonnay is more likely to be rounder, gentler and mellower." Similarly, "a cabernet sauvignon is likely to be quite firm, a chewy kind of red wine, while a pinot noir is lighter and gentler, with soft, velvety flavours.” Should we even imbibe in flight at all? I considered this momentarily as I toyed with a 2006 Taittinger served pre takeoff, thanks to Clarke’s wonderful palate. Alcohol has long been discouraged in the air, mostly because of the alreadyproblematic dehydrating environment. Alcohol will dry one out (it’s a dehydrating diuretic), so it is important to keep up the water intake. Some airlines will stock passengers up with water bottles, even in economy, while others appear to have hydrophobic crew. If we partake, how different can we expect wines to taste at 9000 metres? The inflight environment can have a surprisingly dramatic impact on our experience of wine. Noise is a major factor: Clarke notes that “One forgets how noisy it is in a plane.” Scientific research suggests that background noise can affect the tongue’s ability to detect sweet and salty characters. I recently popped on the amazingly effective noise-cancelling headphones in Singapore Airlines’ business class, and could swear that the flavour of my New Zealand sauvignon blanc ascended. Nerves can also make a difference to taste, and even frequent fliers are affected, says Clarke: "Subliminally, people are in a different state of mind from what they are on the ground.” Dryness, too, has an effect. Clarke explains that even with the best air management systems in the world, recycled air will produce nasal dryness, meaning we “lose the ability to appreciate

How about the Champagne in my hand? Well, it seems the fizz stimulates the trigeminal cranial nerve, the brain’s largest. It’s a human trait that we like this stimulated. .

Master of Wine Bob Campbell was invited by an airline to compare wines in flight and on terra firma. He decided that red wines taste more tannic at altitude, because our ability to salivate in a dry atmosphere is lessened. This means that the proteins that we usually produce to surround and tame tannin molecules are less readily available. Campbell therefore concurs with Clarke, recommending “more intense, deep and berry-like wines,” but suggesting avoiding light, fresh and acidic wines. Research on flier choice backs these ideas up, suggesting that more intensely flavoured wines are likely to be the popular winners onboard. Less intense wines may appear more alcoholic and acidic, while our sensitivity to bitterness may be heightened. Clarke is on record as suggesting New Zealand wines are generally among the best to have in an aircraft. This is due to

the "quality of fruit in all New Zealand whites, and in a considerable number of reds." He raves in particular about sauvignon blanc as "a complete revelation to the world of wine," in contrast to French varieties that "would occasionally come out with something that was rather pleasant and slightly sharp, and just as often would come out with something that was sulphurous and heavy and flat." Anyone who has tasted the partly wild ferments of Greywacke or Cloudy Bay sauvignon blanc especially, will have experienced the savoury difference that wild yeasts can make to a classically simple wine. The country has much more to offer in the air than sauvignon blanc, however. Clarke also considers New Zealand chardonnays to be "outstanding... stonking wines that were so good because of a beautiful patch of dirt that just produced perfect fruit." The "world class rieslings, bone dry or very sweet," are also "very useful in an airline cabin," though "others like Grüner Veltliner pinot gris, may or may not find their place.” Looking at other wine-producing regions, New York Times writer and academic philosopher Barry Smith has mused that high altitude vineyards, such as those

producing some Argentinean malbecs, grow grapes in reduced air pressure which is close to that experienced in-flight at 9000 metres. Hence, their wines stand up well on pressurised aircraft — an interesting, if quirky, perspective. How about the Champagne in my hand? Well, it seems the fizz stimulates the trigeminal cranial nerve, the brain’s largest. It’s a human trait that we like this stimulated. Not only does tickling the T-spot keep Champagne dangerously moreish, but it might also keep the G&T tasting good at altitude, thanks to the tonic. Even those duty free wines in the overhead locker (presumably unopened) may be affected, suffering some reduction in aroma and taste due to the aircraft’s movement damaging their hydrogen ions. But then again, this could also have been induced by that panicked jog past 120 airline gate lounges to avoid missing the flight. Ultimately, though, when the journey is over, it will not be the theories about dehydration, air pressure and pesky nasal passages that make the memory. It will be that 'pleasure measure'.

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nuances." The solution? "It’s important to try and find wines where fruit is to the fore.” Acidity is also preferred over tannin in selecting inflight wines, he says. “Dry, tannic wines are some of the least attractive to have in the air, as well as over-oaked wines.” Their heaviness, he says reduces “the pleasure measure.”

C O M F O RT FOODS Venturing away or coming home, classic comfort foods evoke place in ways nothing else can.

THIS PAGE. Gwangjang market in Seoul, Korea Photo by Victor Ng

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Above: Photo by Patrick Kerwin

GÂTEAU AU YAOURT W I T H C LOT I L D E D U S O U L I E R Gâteau au yaourt, a cake that calls for yogurt, is possibly France’s favourite cake. Very easy to make and even easier to love, it is often the first cake that French kids learn how to bake. It is a fluffy, cloud-like and moist affair, not too sweet, and just perfect for any time of day — breakfast, dessert, afternoon snack... any time at all. It is particularly tasty fresh out of the oven when it is warm and crusty but it will keep delightfully well in an airtight cake box for a few days, as the flavours develop and the top crust softens and turns melty on the tongue.

See recipe on chocolateandzucchini.com

Clotilde Dusoulier is the 30-something Parisienne behind the award-winning food blog Chocolate & Zucchini, where she shares her passion for all things edible. She is also the author of The French Market Cookbook, a book of French vegetarian recipes, and Edible French, a book on French expressions related to food.

Above: Photo by Carlos Casillas

Caldo de pollo is medicine for the soul. It’s one of my favourite soups and so simple to make. It freezes well, which comes in very handy at times when we are not feeling great, and need comforting. Chicken soup is one of those comfort foods that has no borders, and traditional Mexican cooks have a special place for it, too. Everyone has their own way of preparing it, but I use the recipe that my grandmother made and I grew up eating. It’s a simple soup that can warm us up during a cold day or make us feel better when we're sick. After all, there is nothing more satisfying than a bowl of homemade chicken soup when under the weather.

See recipe on muybuenocookbook.com

Yvette Marquez-Sharpnack draws culinary inspiration from her grandmother's old-world northern Mexican recipes and her mother's comforting south of the border home-style dishes. Though she writes primarily about her culinary adventures on her blog, Muy Bueno Cookbook, she also is a professional recipe developer and food writer.

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C A L D O D E P O L LO W I T H Y V E T T E M A R Q U EZ - S H A R P N AC K

Above: Photo by Rik Katz

BIBIMBAP WITH SUE PRESSEY When people think of Korean food, most people think of Korean BBQ and the myriad of Korean side dishes. In my mind, bibimbap combines these two dishes very well. Essentially 'bibimbap' means 'mixed rice'. It is served in a large ceramic or stone bowl, in which everything is mixed before eating. It is quite common to make bibimbap with leftover ingredients already in the fridge. In a typical Korean household, most people have at least three to four side dishes in their fridge to accompany daily meals. So from this perspective bibimbap is a great way to clean up the fridge. As a result, bibimbap is a favourite dish in many Korean households, so it often brings back fond memories of family and childhood.

See recipe on mykoreankitchen.com

Sue Pressey grew up in South Korea and is now living in Australia. She has been writing about Korean food since 2006 and particularly loves recreating that perfect taste from her childhood. More of Sue’s Korean recipes can be found on My Korean Kitchen.

Above: Photo by Hwuang Taeho

OCT-DEC 2015

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BAZAAR

MÖVENPICK RESORT & SPA DEAD SEA

TIGERAIR

Set on the slopes leading to the world’s lowest point on dry land, 400 metres below sea level, this village-style resort evokes the old city of Jerusalem, with double-story structures of local stone amongst tropical gardens.

A subsidiary of Singapore Airlines, Tigerair first commenced operations out of Melbourne in 2007 and is proud to call Victoria home, with further bases in Sydney and Brisbane. The airline flies to a further nine destinations across Australia, including the Gold Coast, Perth, Cairns, Mackay, Hobart, Adelaide, Coffs Harbour, the Whitsunday Coast, and Darwin.

The resort offers something for everyone: descending the slopes, one can find pool areas ideal for couples on a romantic getaway, party-loving groups of friends, and families looking for good clean fun. Dining options reflect this, from all-day buffet-style options to poolside bars and fine dining. However, it is a divine osso buco on saffron risotto at Luigi’s Italian restaurant, located in the ‘village square’, that is the stand-out of my visit — followed, of course, with a scoop of the resort’s famous eponymous ice cream. While there is much to enjoy across the expansive property, the Zara Spa offers the perfect enclave. A range of treatments are on offer, which naturally make use of the area’s famous mud and salt, and travellers come from far and wide to take advantage of derma- and rheumatology treatments specific to the region. The spa also offers indoor flotation pools, with water sourced directly from the ‘sea’ below. However, I spend my day lounging by the infinity pool which looks out over the haze of the Dead Sea to a soundtrack of tastefully upbeat dance music, drinking fresh watermelon juice and alternating occasionally between dips here and in the somewhat less placid hydro pool, where the amazing view can be combined with relaxing and invigorating water jets. As the sun sinks low on the horizon, I hesitate to drag myself away — to Amman airport, just an hour away, and my flight home. But reluctant as I am, I am heading off completely refreshed, ready to take on the world thanks to Mövenpick Dead Sea. Visit mövenpick.com

Flying from Melbourne to Cairns took on a whole new level of excitement and the ‘new plane smell’ was evident as we boarded Tigerair's brand spanking A320, flying commercially for the first time on our route. The plane will soon be based in Sydney, where it will help to facilitate some of the airline’s new domestic routes. These acquisitions are indicative of Tigerair’s commitment to operating a young and efficient fleet, with the average age of its aircraft being only 6 years. This means we can be sure when flying with Tiger that we are being looked after in an up-to-date aircraft. The new A320 will gain a few friends soon, with three more new aircraft joining the fleet for Tiger’s first-ever international services to Bali, commencing early 2016 from Melbourne, Perth and Sydney. Tiger’s move into short haul international travel comes after years of experience in the domestic market, having flown well over 17 million passengers within Australia to date. A point of difference for the airline is its customer service. From check-in to boarding, to the in-flight service, Tigerair's staff are friendly and eager to make the journey as comfortable as possible — something that is sometimes hard to come by on budget airlines. Tiger offers regular travel sale deals — the (not so) big secret to accessing these is signing up to the free e-newsletter and ‘Infrequent Flyer’ club at infrequentflyers.com, or by becoming a fan on Facebook. And of course, book early to secure the very best prices. Visit tigerair.com

OCT-DEC 2015

BAZAAR

ÇIRAĞAN PALACE

Soljans Estate Winery in Kumeu, north-west of Auckland, New Zealand, offers wine tasting, winery tours and fantastic meals — what more could a group of friends ask for of an afternoon? We arrived at the winery around midday and were greeted with a friendly smile and a warm welcome by the cellar door staff.

Once the luxurious home to the last sultans of the Ottoman Empire, now a fairy tale-like palace hotel, the Çırağan Palace Kempinski is a historic landmark where the old world and the new flawlessly collide.

We started off with a tour, where we were taken to see the fermentation tanks, production and barrel ageing area, along with the production staff, who were busy bottling and labelling wines. The tour was interesting and informative without being too technical, and it was apparent that our guide was passionate about the wine industry. Having gained an insight into all the work involved in producing wine, it was back to the cellar door for a tasting. We sampled a selection of five different wines, including Soljans’ famous Fusion Sparkling Muscat, New Zealand’s most awarded sparkling wine. Each wine was tastier than the last. Next stop was the café, where we were seated by the window next to a cosy gas fire. The views of the surrounding vines were gorgeous and it was hard to believe we were on a main highway just out of Auckland. The café staff were attentive, recommending wines that would complement our meals. Following a friendly farewell, we made our way back through to the cellar door where I couldn’t help but stop and look through the gorgeous array of jewellery and crafts in the gift shop. Suffice to say, I took advantage of the reasonable prices and purchased some lovely souvenirs as well as some of the delicious wines we had enjoyed in our tasting. Visit soljans.co.nz

The palace is like a museum, filled with sumptuous Turkish decor, hand-painted walls, and historic architecture. But most guests who stay in one of the 313 rooms and suites rarely find their way to the hotel’s heart: a luxurious white marble private hammam. The place where royalty once bathed isn’t set up for scrubs and massages though — it’s only used today for photo shoots and small events. It’s a space well-worth convincing a member of the staff to unlock, simply to marvel at its opulent setting and delicately-carved polished stone. I only spent a few moments in this tranquil space, and even without a spa treatment I left feeling serene. There are also multiple ballrooms and exhibition centres in the palace, little-seen by typical guests. However, these spacious rooms epitomise grace and grandeur, with high ceilings draped with crystal chandeliers, including the second-oldest in Europe. I felt close to a sultan myself wandering such palatial surroundings — trailing my fingers over polished bannisters, glass spindles, and gilded surfaces, transporting myself into the lavish past. Almost every room’s view is awe-inspiring, looking out onto the inky blue coastline or gazing over Yıldız Park, once the hunting forest of sultans. Rooms are spacious and thoughtfully filled with luxurious little extras, such as a choice of three different types of pillows. The grounds have a resort-like ambience, with steaming pools tucked in beside the Bosphorus, and a modern hammam and spa. There’s a shopping arcade, several renowned restaurants, and plenty of modern-day necessities like free WiFi and glutenfree breakfast offerings. The entire experience, a bridge between royal history and the best of contemporary convenience, is a dip into a regal world that shouldn’t be missed. Visit kempinski.com/IstanbulHotel

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SOLJANS

OCT-DEC 2015

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BAZAAR

ISLAND MAGIC RESORT

VANUATU EDUCATION AID

Serene, lush and abundant, Island Magic Resort’s stunning gardens are bursting with vibrant colour. Scarlet hibiscus swing in the gentle breeze, while soothing palms stand sedate and coconuts hang handy. This is Eden on holiday and I love it — no mowing, weeding, clipping or getting my hands dirty.

In September 2014, Linda and Ian Roberts donated 25 kilograms of books and stationery to Mele School on Vanuatu's main island of Efate. The gift was so well-received that the Vanuatu Ministry of Education asked the Roberts for further support. Exactly a year later, they returned with helpers and distributed 15 tonnes of books, schools furniture, sports equipment and stationery.

The resort’s luxury bungalows are private, with a stunning water view of Mele Bay or the tropical gardens. I find it is surprisingly easy to recline every day on the generous deck, imbibe and enjoy the vista. The meticulously-tended pathways make exploring carefree and relaxing. The self-contained bungalows are welcoming and spacious. With two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a lounge, dining area and kitchen, our family could truly unwind and spread out. On days when we felt more vigorous, we snorkelled in the pristine waters of the bay, amazed at the colour and variety of fish in the coral reef. We kayaked, used the resort’s mountain bikes to explore Pango Point, and took frequent dips in the refreshing pool. This was freedom at our pace. The resort’s managers Gerry and Jan Smelik are suitably proud of their Coco de Mer restaurant, noting, “Our chef is a gem. His cuisine is creative, fresh and always so tasty.” We thought so too: Coco hit the spot with every single meal. Island Magic is 15 minutes from the busyness of Port Vila and best suited to those happy to rent a car. There is much to explore close by — Mele Cascades, Summit Gardens, Tanna Coffee, Hideaway Island and Havannah Harbour. The resort’s friendly groundsman, Joe, taught me some basic Bislama which pretty much sums up life in Vanuatu: Nambawan. Istret. Translation: ‘Number 1. No worries.’ Surprisingly after a Category 5 cyclone, the rhythm of life here remains unchanged — peaceful, centred and honest; particularly so at Island Magic Resort. Visit islandmagicresort.com

The Roberts, along with Dr. Laryssa Howe of Massey University, launched Vanuatu Education Aid (VEA) in 2014. The sad event of Cyclone Pam saw donations flood in as New Zealand schools, eager to support, cleaned out their resource rooms and libraries. Dr. Howe also approached scientific laboratory suppliers for beakers and pipettes, scarce resources in Vanuatu. Kiwi companies were happy to help, with OfficeMax and Croxley donating 12 pallets of stationery. Fletcher Building Ltd. generously paid the shipping and ferry, truck and driver costs, while Air Vanuatu assisted with reduced airfares. The distribution of items was organised by Joe Kalotap at the Shefa Education Office, responsible for the province including Efate, and the Shepherd and Epi Islands. The resources helped 20,000 students and 876 teachers in kindergartens and high schools with additional supplies. More support is needed to rebuild and Vanuatu is looking to travellers for help. Volunteer Vanuatu is calling for helpers to assist with hands-on work — building classrooms and halls, and undertaking property repairs. After warm welcomes of songs, blessings and prayers at schools, the VEA team found it hard to go home. However, they are continuing their work and welcome enquiries to help via their Facebook page, Vanuatu Education Aid.

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