WORLDWIDE 2006
INCLUDED ISSUE #10 $6.95 >GST
TRAVEL CULTURE
SEX IN THE CITY
AREAL CASTAWAY
THE BERLIN LOVEPARADE
IN THE PHILIPPINES
CAVE CRAWLING
GOWILD
IN SOUTH AFRICA
IN LAOS
WHITE WATER FRENZY
WRESTLE MANIA
INBOLIVIA
INCAIRNS
INDIA +
HAIRY TALES FROM
AC/DC IN THE BAHAMAS PHOTOGRAPHY TIPS AN ARGENTINEAN STEAK OUT SWISS CROSS COUNTRY MARATHON DUBLIN IN 24 GUINNESS’S
www.getlostmag.com
philippines
castaway
confidential text: thomas hunter
images: cheyenne morrison
Your very own island? No, it’s not an impossible dream. With a bit of hard work and organisation, Cheyenne Morrison has shown that man can indeed be an island. Warning: this story contains scenes that may thrill and excite some readers. #40 get lost! ISSUE #10
get in the know! 98 episodes of Gilligan’s Island were originally screened in the US from 1964 to 1967.
T
HE DIAGNOSIS IS NOT LIFE THREATENING, BUT ‘islomania’ – an addiction to islands – is not a condition to be taken lightly. According to the psychologist, you’ve been exhibiting the symptoms for some years now. You may have thought that the constant daydreaming about empty beaches, palm trees and a limitless supply of coconuts was merely a response to life in the big city. Wrong. Support groups might assist you in your struggle or perhaps you could buy a selfhelp guide at the local bookstore. You know the type: put the CD on, lie down in a dark room, close your eyes and 12 hours later you’re cured of your island addiction. Or maybe a hypnotherapist would be better: “You are getting very sleepy in your hammock, peering up through the leaves of the coconut palms fringing your beach, as the sun inches towards the horizon of your private ocean.”
You know your situation is serious when the only thing that ends your island daze is the sharp slap from your boss’s hand across the back of your head, or booking a ticket to a patch of lost land known only to migrating gulls and pirates. Well, the good news is you’re not alone. Cheyenne Morrison also suffers from islomania, having battled the condition since he was ten years old. Indeed, if islomaniacs were paid by the hour to dream about islands, Morrison is the Donald Trump of islomania. He’s in control of it now, but like anyone battling an addiction, he had to confront his demons. That meant spending a year alone on an uninhabited tropical paradise. And no, don’t pity him. Envy him. After waking every morning, Morrison stepped out of a bamboo hut – not dissimilar to those that Gilligan and his fellow castaways lived in – onto his own beach. The fine white sand would spill between
get in the know! Mel Gibson reportedly purchased a private island in Fiji with the proceeds of his film, The Passion of the Christ.
his toes while waves of pristine turquoise water lapped the shoreline just a few metres away. No bus stops. No junk mail. No neighbours. “My island was basically a 330m-tall limestone cliff with a tiny beach on one side, about an acre in size, and a tiny hut. The owner of the island left his fishing boats there, but they were quite a way from where my hut was. Basically, I had it all to myself – the beach, the water, the jungle, the cliffs, you name it. There was also an underground cave that ran 700m from one side of the island to the other. Jacques Cousteau dived through there and discovered albino lobsters living in it.” Morrison says that arriving at the island for the first time was a surreal experience. “Before I got there, I had a photo of the island, and getting there and stepping from the boat was like stepping into that picture, except it was much more beautiful. ISSUE #10 get lost! #41
philippines
My hut was perfectly situated, right on the end of the sandspit with a 180-degree view of Malapacao and Langen islands.” As the sole inhabitant of Pinagbuyatan, one of the El Nido chain of islands in the Philippines, life for Morrison was pretty idyllic, even without the so-called modern conveniences that fill our lives. “Life on an island is simple and satisfying – if you are the right kind of person for it,” he says. “I didn’t have any electricity; I had kerosene lamps; I had a charcoal stove; and I had to cart my own water from the well. If you’re the kind who must have the morning and evening paper, a cinema around the corner, your favourite show on the TV and all the other stuff of urban life, stay at home. But if you are the sort who craves adventure and needs new experiences to keep yourself feeling alive, you will find in islands a happiness that is inexpressible and something that you will never forget as long as you live.” #42 get lost! ISSUE #10
get in the know! Only seven per cent of the Philippine islands are larger than one square mile and only one-third have names.
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If you’re the kind who must have the morning and evening paper, a cinema round the corner, your favourite show on the TV, and all the other stuff of urban life, stay at home.
Morrison’s simple and satisfying lifestyle began with breakfast. “My biggest worry was whether I would catch the right fish. That’s how my day would start – with a spot of spear fishing. I would usually have caught and cooked breakfast by about 9am, and then I would retire to my hammock to do some reading or writing, before cooking lunch and then heading out for the afternoon. There were 52 islands around Pinagbuyutan, with hundreds of little bays, and I’d just go exploring. My time was actually really busy.” On one of those expeditions, Morrison discovered a 17th-century Spanish fort that had been swallowed by a jungle. When he first arrived on Caseledan, Morrison and some intrepid friends asked locals if they knew where the fort was. They were pointed to the other side of the island, but given no further information. “The western side of the island has two large bays; each of these bays is then divided into a further five smaller bays. Finally we saw a small bay with a beach dominated by a
large hill; a deep anchorage extended into the bay. After a few minutes of pushing our way through the undergrowth I spotted the first stone wall, which was only two feet high; this was the edge of the outer rampart which surrounds the fortress proper. As we entered a very large gate, a stairway was immediately to our left; we took this up to the upper ramparts of the fortress and with difficulty made our way all the way around. As we stood on the upper parapet and gazed down into the bay, I could almost feel what it must have been like being a Spanish soldier in one of the most remote outposts in the world.” Morrison’s adventures didn’t end there. He met tribal people who had never seen a white man before. He also discovered a Spanish shipwreck in shallow water and salvaged a load of Sung Dynasty porcelain, which was later sold to a dealer to finance further adventures. But life wasn’t always as laidback as it sounds. As a voluntary
get in the know! Sir Richard Branson is the owner of Necker Island, located in the British Virgin Islands.
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castaway, Morrison had to deal with Mother Nature more or less on his own. With storms lasting for days and a monsoon pouring water onto his little encampment at a dangerous rate, his shelter’s sturdiness was a constant concern. “One storm took five days to blow itself out, but after the first few days I had run out of food and had to make a trip in my small boat to the nearest town. That would usually take about 15 minutes, but on this occasion it took me more than 45. My boat got flooded three times. I barely made it to town, but when I got there I had to stay for three days until the storm passed. “Tropical ulcers and mosquito bites are another fact of life. When it’s hot it’s so hot that you only have to walk six feet and you could sweat to death. When it’s the monsoon it can rain solidly for up to a week. Then you go stir crazy from not being able to go out and do anything.” The year of isolation Morrison spent on Pinagbuyatan may not have ISSUE #10 get lost! #43
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get in the know! Nacho Libre is a new feature film starring Jack Black as a monastery cook who has a secret life as a Mexican wrestler.
bolivia
text: david atkinson images: christian lombardi
David Atkinson gets ringside to sample the sports craze currently sweeping Bolivia.
get in the know! The luchadores (fighters) are divided into two camps: rudos (the bad guys) and tĂŠcnicos (the good guys).
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get in the know! Masks have been worn since the mid 1930s when pioneer wrestlers such as El Enmascarado (The Masked Man) made them popular.
bolivia
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It’s a battle of good versus evil – just like real life.
following in Bolivia recently, especially since we first allowed women into the ring last year. Life is tough in El Alto and people are poor, but luche libre lifts our spirits. It’s a battle of good versus evil - just like real life,” he adds.
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I
T IS SUNDAY AFTERNOON AT A BREEZEBLOCK gym in El Alto, the poverty-stricken slums that loom above the downtown area of Bolivia’s administrative capital, La Paz. As the lights flare and the ancient PA system cranks into life, John Peralis, today’s master of ceremonies, takes the microphone and climbs into the ring. A skinny man with a tight-curled perm and implausibly shiny shoes, he announces the first of the day’s seven 20-minute bouts of luche libre (freeform wrestling). Young couples, having paid an entrance fee of US$1, sit ringside, spitting mandarin pips onto the floor. Aged grandparents, dressed in the traditional garb of flowing skirts and bowler hats, prepare to lob popcorn at the competitors. Anticipation sweeps across the stadium as the pre-match music reaches its crescendo and the crowd start shouting the names of their favourite wrestling stars. This is no ordinary wrestling bout. The biggest cheers are reserved for the female wrestlers. “Luche libre was born in Mexico around 1930,” says the event’s ebullient organiser Juan Carlos Chávez. “It has developed a huge
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by the German industrial band, Rammstein. The fighting style is ‘anything goes’ with gouging, low blows and dirty tricks all actively encouraged. As the bell rings to break the initial scrap, referee Barba Negra, a Grizzly Adams type
Satanica... takes to the ring wielding a flaming torch to the strains of Black Sabbath.
Bolivia is the poorest country in South America, and has a long tradition of ritual fighting. ‘Tinku’, a harvest festival event to celebrate the end of the agricultural year, is a a colourful clash of Catholic and pagan beliefs that draws on the rituals of the indigenous communities. After two days of dancing and drinking, the third day often ends in a blood-splattered punch up. This afternoon’s no-holds-barred grudge match takes the traditional Tinku and gives it a twist of WWF-style glamour. First up is a men’s round. Luxor makes a dramatic entrance in a devil suit, while opponent, Picodo, dressed like a member of metal band Slipknot, arrives to a backing track provided
get in the know! Even popular fighters make only US$13 from bouts and have other daytime jobs.
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with a flowing mullet, tries to bring a semblance of order. The bout becomes increasingly surreal when the wrestlers roll out of the ring but carry on fighting regardless. The action comes to a climax when a visibly tiring Picodo reels from a heavy blow to the wedding tackle and the crowd responds by screaming, “Give it to him.” Luxor obliges and Picodo hits the mat, spitting teeth. The first blood of the day is spilt and a young mother lifts her baby onto her shoulders for a better view. Triumphant, Luxor stands astride the ropes, dripping sweat and blood. “I am the best,” he hollers. “I am the best.” As his opponent tumbles ISSUE #10 get lost! #53
confessions
text: mark butler image: mark butler
Crime doesn’t pay? Tell that to Mark Butler as he tears it up on the island of Langkawi in Malaysia with his hairdryer on wheels and enough gumption to make both Erik Estrada and Tom Selleck blush.
I
DON’T RIDE MOTORBIKES. I DON’T KNOW HOW. But when I’m on holidays and someone presents me with a scooter, I always saddle up. It could be the heat, the oversized helmets, or the sunglasses... I don’t know. But as soon as I squeeze that throttle, I enter the world of 1980s television. I am on the island of Langkawi in Malaysia. It’s six letters and a million miles from LA, but with an engine between my legs I suddenly become one half of the TV cop duo from CHiPs. My friend has already bagsed Poncherello on account of him having a similar skin tone to Erik Estrada, so I end up being the character played by Larry Wilcox whose name no one ever remembers. But names and engine sizes don’t matter. I’m on a bike in the sunshine, cruising the island roads with the wind and the insects in my face. My confidence grows and it shows in my bike
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handling – I’m banking around banana trees, and overtaking minibuses on the wrong side of the road. But I always stay on the right side of the law – I’m one of the good guys, remember. I spot a fancy hotel around Tanjung Rhu. I sidle up to my partner and ask him to pull over – this highway patrol business is thirsty work. The hotel is so exclusive we have to bluff our way past security, and the beach is so white the sand could be sugar. From the restaurant’s veranda the view of the limestone outcrops is spectacular. We hang up our helmets and let the tax-free beers fly at us. I am soon aware that if I don’t stop drinking, I’ll be breaking the law when I get back on my bike. The smiling waiter asks us if we would like more drinks. A tough one. The real CHiPs would send him packing. But I’m tired of being a good guy, so we order again and again. We don’t plan on doing a runner – it just happens. The waiter
presents Poncherello with a bill, a pen and a look of expectation. “Would you like this charged to your room, Sir?” he asks. Ponch looks at me. I can’t resist. “Let’s charge it to my room,” I say. And it is at this point that I remember my name. I take the pen and sign the bill, “Officer Jon Baker”, from Room 218. The waiters move slowly in Malaysia, and this buys us just enough time to sneak through the gardens, around the pool, past reception and out into the car park. My bike is still there but I now see it for what it really is – a hairdryer on wheels that refuses to start. Poncherello’s bike starts the first time, but mine only splutters when I kick it. The security guy is big. He has an earpiece. He walks over. My heart skips like a kindergarten teacher. I’m ready to confess. “You need to use the choke,” he tells me. And I’m back on the road.
get in the know! Even though Larry Wilcox and Erik Estrada didn't get on during their time on CHiPs, they still keep in touch for ‘coulda, shoulda, woulda’ type conversations.