Win a movie star trip to LA!
SEE INSIDE FOR DETAILS
iSSue #23
unique travel $6.95 GST INCLUDED
er forget! v e n l ’l u o y s y a d holi
MOzAMBIque Beach Bliss INDIA how to buy an elephant peru Go to Cusco SLOveNIA A holiday in piran SOuTH AfrIcA 24 hours in Cape Town
TropICAL ESCApES HAWAII SABAH SOLOMON ISLANDS TONGA
ISSN 1449-3543
www.getlostmag.com
text: steve davey images: steve davey
steve davey may be a festival veteran but even he is entranced by the sights and sounds of the world’s largest livestock fair.
A
s occurs At so mAny IndIAn festIvAls, all vehicle traffic is banned on the big day. A policeman waves a bamboo stick known as a laathi at my driver. even if they have not been on the receiving end, everyone in India has seen this unique form of crowd control in action. my driver slows to a stop. I slip out of the car and walk up to the copper, smiling ingratiatingly as I explain that I am a photographer en route to the tourist camp. I ask if my driver might be able to keep going. He looks at me blankly, picks his nose and then waves over his officer. I repeat my litany to someone who may just speak english. He nods and details a police motorcyclist to ride in front of us and clear our path. #22 get lost! ISSUE #23
As I climb back into the car, the driver is grinning. He speeds behind the motorcyclist, honking his horn with wild abandon as he scatters the trudging pilgrims on either side of the road. He is undoubtedly playing at cops and robbers, but I don’t care. It has been a long journey and the nearer that he can get me to the camp the better. It was 4am, right after an overnight train journey, when I hired my driver at the town of Patna to complete the 35-kilometre journey to the village of Sonepur. Our otherwise unremarkable destination is home to an annual mela, or fair. It is billed as the largest livestock fair in the world and renowned for its secondhand elephant market. Well, perhaps not too
renowned: the cream of Patna’s taxi wallahs had barely heard of it. That said, the cream of Patna’s taxi wallahs hadn’t heard of mirror, signal manoeuvre or slowing down for pedestrians either. After a few kilometres, we reach another police roadblock. This time my escort is sent back, my driver halted and all of my pleas are ignored. It seems that I am going to have to walk from here. According to a smug-looking police officer, it is only a few kilometres to the camp. Realising that my special treatment has come to an abrupt end, I pick up my bag and join the slow stream of pilgrims heading down the track. As well as being a livestock market, Sonepur is situated at the confluence of the holy rivers Ganga and Gandak. Hindus believe that bathing here
get in the know! A beggar from Patna pays 36,000 rupees annually on two life insurance policies.
india
’’
at the Kartik Poornima full moon is auspicious and can help to wash away their mortal sins. The origins of the festival lie in the mythical struggle
even if they have not been on the receiving end, everyone in India has seen this unique form of crowd control in action.
Mahout with elephants in the Haathi (elephant) bazaar.
’’
between King Indrayamuna and the Gandharva chief Huhu, who were turned into an elephant and a crocodile after being cursed. Huhu the crocodile
get in the know! Writer V S Naipaul once described the state of Bihar as where civilisation ends.
lay in wait for the elephant at Sonepur and when he came to drink, Huhu bit his leg and attempted to drag him into the river. The two animals fought for years until the weakened elephant called upon Lord Vishnu for help. Vishnu intervened and cancelled the curses on both of them, making the location an auspicious place to sell elephants and to bathe. Fortunately, it also means that there are no crocodiles. The plodding pilgrim hordes resemble a column of refugees. Indians don’t travel light and many have great metal trunks and bedding rolls on their heads. It makes my own luggage and camera bag look quite modest. I soon reach an old bridge over one of the rivers and begin to cross. The bridge is made from a lattice of iron ISSUE #23 get lost! #23
girders and looks like it dates from the days of the Raj. Many of the pilgrims start to chant as we cross this sacred water. I leave the crowds and move to the footway at the edge of the bridge to look down on the bathers below. A policeman moves to stop me but then thinks better of it. I can see crowds of pilgrims bathing far below. It is still early – less than an hour after sunrise – and they are immersed in warm golden sunlight. Amongst the pilgrims are a few elephants being washed by their mahouts. The reason for their ablutions is prosaic: today is the first day of elephant trading and the beasts’ current owners
’’
Pilgrims on the ghats leading to the Hari Nath Mandir.
want them to look their best. The elephants plunge into the muddy waters as their mahouts clamber on top and scrub them down. As the elephants slowly roll over, the mahouts scramble over them to keep out of the water. From the end of the bridge, it is an easy stroll down to the haathi bazaar where the elephants and their mahouts camp out under a number of ancient, shady trees. There are a few rows of tents, some small compounds, quite a lot of activity and a barely suppressed feeling of excitement. Most of the elephants have now been washed and their mahouts are painting ornate and colourful patterns on them to attract the highest prices. A loud trumpeting echoes through the trees and everyone starts. There is a commotion at the other side of the camp and many people are running away. A group of mahouts runs towards the noise. One particularly large male elephant is loose. When not directly under the control of a mahout, elephants are generally kept chained. This one has somehow broken away and represents a real danger. The mahouts soon subdue it – a remarkable achievement considering the relative size difference.
I decide to drop my bag off at the tourist camp before continuing. It is a kilometre or so from the river, along the same route followed by the pilgrims after bathing. As I near the camp the pilgrims seem to part and I spot a large elephant storming through the crowd. The mahout on top of the elephant is using a long stick to push recalcitrant pilgrims out of its path. One old man with a large bedroll on his head is looking down as he walks and hasn’t seen the elephant. The mahout wields his stick like a lancer, places the end on the bedroll and gives the man a big shove. He staggers off the road into a ditch: safe but very unhappy. The elephant carries on through the crowd in the direction of the haathi bazaar. Many of the elephants are walked to the mela from great distances. This one has arrived after the deadline and is trying to sneak in the back way. The tourist camp is basic but friendly. There are a dozen or so huts made from woven rushes. They each have two small beds inside, a light bulb and an electrical point. At the rear is a small courtyard with a toilet and a coldwater shower. I don’t linger and am soon pushing against the flow of pilgrims to return to the river. My destination is the Hari Nath
one particularly large male elephant is loose. When not directly under the control of a mahout, elephants are generally kept chained. this one has somehow broken away and represents a real danger.
’’
Elephants being bathed in the Gandak River.
#24 get lost! ISSUE #23
get in the know! Bihar employs transvestite eunuchs to shame people into paying their taxes.
india
Elephants and pilgrims bathing in the Gandak River, seen from the railway bridge leading into the mela ground.
get in the know! The inaugural meeting of the Indian Association of Cow Protection took place in Sonepur in 1888.
ISSUE #23 get lost! #25
BEaUtIfUl ’’
Welcome to the Terra de Boa Gente, The Land of the Good People. A destination as confounding as it is delightfully uncomplicated.
’’
image: peter maron
#52 get lost! ISSUE #23
get in the know! Mozambique is the only member of the Commonwealth that doesn’t have a constitutional link to the British Empire.
mozambique
text: luke wright
thIng hErE images: various
In search of sunshine, seafood and a slice of Africa, Luke Wright takes a trip to the southern coast of Mozambique.
W
e’re rATTLInG ALonG A GoAT-TrAck of a road when I see the sign nailed to a tree. It immediately strikes me as quite ridiculous. The message, messily drawn and written in english, reads as follows: ‘Beautiful Thing Here; come Look Today’. Where is the ‘thing’, I wonder? We hadn’t seen any ‘thing’ for a couple of kilometres either side of the sign. I look all around me to see if there’s something I’ve missed, but there’s nothing. I soon figure it’s another of those baffling occurrences that happen when travelling in this part of the world and I return to gazing out the window, watching the world pass by. Past the pineapple fields and the cashew nut stands. Past the lazy little villages with thatched-roof houses and the herd boys attending to their cows.
later that day, when we stop for petrol, I get talking with a gap-toothed old man who speaks a little English. I ask him if he understands the message I saw scrawled on the sign. I’m not sure if it’s a language problem or if he thinks I’m an idiot but, to him, the sign makes perfect sense. “It’s simple. there’s a beautiful thing here, you come look today,” he says. “Why this difficult for you?” When I ask him what exactly the ‘thing’ might have been, he looks at me with a mixture of disbelief and sympathy – a look reserved for those who ask stupid questions. “It is everything, my friend; it is Mozambique!” Welcome to the terra de Boa gente, the land of the good People. a destination as confounding as it is delightfully uncomplicated. a nation whose ongoing battles with war, weather, famine and disease seem difficult to imagine while sipping a chilled cider on its big, beautiful beaches. a place where teenage boys who dress and speak like american gangsters still debate a girl’s appeal in terms of the number of cattle she might be worth. a country where it feels as if it’s still possible to truly get off the beaten path,
get in the know! Portuguese is the official language of Mozambique but is only spoken by 40 per cent of its population .
yet doing so risks stepping on landmines. Welcome to Mozambique. I arrive in Mozambique aboard a big, blue overland truck operated by global tour company, Kumuka. We’re kitted out with everything we need, from our food to our tents, our guidebooks to our two local Kumuka guides. It feels like a youth hostel on wheels: a 22-seat, four-wheel drive, german-designed mobile guesthouse. We’ve just spent a few days in the comparative luxury of neighbouring South africa, spotting the Big five in the legendary Kruger national Park and mingling with the grey nomads in their campervans and caravans. Crossing the line that separates the two countries, I notice a dramatic change. the highly efficient and functional tourist experience of South africa is replaced with a genuine developing-world adventure. the lazy-looking immigration officials seem only to be motivated into passport-stamping action when a few US dollars are flashed about. all manner of people and things are walking across the busy border without garnering much attention at all. the happy singsong sounds of Portuguese float ISSUE #23 get lost! #53
mozambique
about in the warm breeze. there’s a rawness and roughness here that seems a world away just over the border. after some aimless waiting in the sun, the stamp holder inks our passports and waves us into his country. By land and by sea, Mozambique has been invaded, visited and colonised by people from all over the world. It’s a great cultural crossroads. from Bantu-speaking african tribes to arab voyagers, goan merchants to Portuguese explorers, Mozambique’s land and people have enticed those in search of ivory, gold and slaves. In the late 1700s, its ports became one of the main channels for selling slaves. Some estimate that up to one million people were sold into slavery from here. the Portuguese, whose interest in Mozambique began more than 500 years ago, ruled the country until June 1975. Since independence, the country has been ravaged by civil war, drought and famine. Beset by serious poverty and a shocking hIV infection rate, today’s Mozambique is still largely dependent on foreign aid but is desperately trying to move forward. tourism is vital to this process. Slowly, visitors are arriving and finding a destination rich with cultural and geographic diversity. Its people are an ethnic patchwork of african tribes mixed with Portuguese, Chinese,
Indian, Pakistani, arab and more. and its 2,500 kilometres of pristine coastline, with warm blue waters, untouched islands and swarms of sea life, is some of the prettiest on the planet. Our first port of call is the country’s colourful capital, Maputo. this city quickly reveals itself as quite an attractive beachside metropolis, with some lovely colonial architecture and big, broad boulevards flanked by flame trees and jacarandas. there’s a palpable energy and plenty of sidewalk cafes and restaurants from which to watch the action. We spend the afternoon ambling along the sand with a few sundowners in hand. at night we eat seafood and drink sweet rum from the bottle and sample a couple of nightspots. this is definitely a place to spend a few days, but we’re not here for the city. the next morning we take off up the coast to Barra. after another bumpy day on the Kumuka truck we arrive at Barra lodge, well and truly ready for the fine food, luxury and adventure promised in the brochure. Barra doesn’t disappoint. Only 30 minutes from the charming historic town of Inhambane, the Barra Peninsula is a brilliant seaside location offering hotels and resorts and loads of adventure activities. We check into our cute little self-catering cottages and head for the beach bar. that evening we dine at candlelit tables on the sand, tackling the enormous
seafood buffet as local performers dance and play drums in the moonlight. the following day, my high-energy Kumuka companions go their separate ways to partake in the different adventures activities offered by Barra lodge – reef diving, ocean safaris, deep-sea fishing, swimming with whale sharks and mantas, and other adrenalin-inducing experiences. I, on the other hand, opt for a boat trip to Pansy Island. While this decision did little to improve my standing with the ladies in the group, the experience far outweighed the indignity of the corresponding challenges to my manhood. Onboard a comfortable 33-foot catamaran, we cruise the clear, calm waters off Barra to Pansy Island – renowned as a top spot to find the beautiful and quite rare pansy shell. I’m joined on the catamaran by South african newlyweds who look like they’d been back for a few too many helpings at the buffet. Peter, the proud new husband, is clearly enthusiastic about Mozambique as a tourist destination. “five years ago, nobody wanted to come to this place, but now people are realising it’s okay,” Peter explains. “this place will be a mini Mauritius very soon.” We sit on the deck for a while, sunning in silence together, when Peter pipes up once more. “this place is so fucking beautiful, man.” and with that, he throws his cigarette butt
a happy local proudly having a midday drink. image: manuel alcino cunha
#54 get lost! ISSUE #23
get in the know! the infant mortality rate in Mozambique was 100 per 1,000 births in 2005.
a Bazaruto dive boat in action. image: peter maron
into the ocean. We spend half a day walking around Pansy Island, looking for shells and snorkelling, eating some of the biggest and best garlic prawns I have ever sampled, and being slothful in the sun. When we return to the mainland I make a desperate bid to reaffirm my masculinity by taking off on a quad-bike tour. We noisily slip and slide along sandy tracks lined with coconut palms, high-fiving enthusiastic children who run from their houses to watch us zoom by. We pass through small villages, along the beach front and cliff tops, with the salty air in our faces, and through a terrific little town called tofo, where we stop for drinks and a stroll through the colourful markets. We spend two days at Barra lodge, lazing by the beach and pool. We eat and drink well and feel 100 per cent adjusted to the idle pace of Mozambican beach life. Our next destination is a town to the north called Vilanculos. this is the gateway to the stunning Bazaruto archipelago: a group of tropical islands that satisfies every tropical island fantasy possible. the beaches around Vilanculos come alive each day when the fisherman return from a night at sea in their dhow boats (arab sail boats). the sandy shore becomes an instant fish market, with hundreds of buyers and sellers bargaining for the day’s best deals. Colourfully clad women carrying huge buckets on their heads get to work gutting and cleaning the catch while their kids play in the sand. We join the action, play with the children and watch the sun set a magnificent orange colour over the Indian Ocean. On day two in Vilanculos we make our way out to the Bazaruto islands in a dhow boat. travellers search the globe for picture-perfect
’’
This is the gateway to the stunning Bazaruto Archipelago: a group of tropical islands that satisfies every tropical island fantasy possible. The beaches around Vilanculos come alive each day when the fisherman return from a night at sea in their dhow boats.
’’
image: patrick lemieux
get in the know! It is possible to snorkel with whale sharks off the coast of Mozambique.
ISSUE #23 get lost! #55
confessions
thEBESt joB
text: carol driver
in the world? images: www.sxc.hu
It was billed as the best job in the world. Six months being an island caretaker on the Whitsundays, A$150,000 in your pocket and a luxury, three-bed pad overlooking the crystal-clear waters. To me, there had to be a catch.
M
ore ThAn 34,000 WAnnAbeS hAdn’T thought so, though – they submitted video applications, showing how extroverted they were, how ‘crazy’ they were. From all of these, the judges picked ben Southall, from hampshire, UK. I go to meet Ben. I want to walk a mile in his flip-flops on sandy beaches and find out whether or not the rest of us really had missed out on the job of a lifetime. I meet him on hamilton Island, where the 34-year-old lives with his girlfriend Breanna Watkins. She was away for a job interview to become a stunt girl. It’s the launch of Race Week. he’s being pulled from pillar to post – doing radio interviews, presenting the weather on tV and generally schmoozing with some the country’s wealthiest specimens. I’m introduced to him. Ben grabs my hand, shaking it energetically. he’s wearing that manic grin of his and I’m not sure whether I should now fear for my life or high-five him as he declares: “Are we going to have some fun, or what?” then he’s gone. off to do more interviews and update twitter. We’re flying to Brampton Island the following day. I wait at the airport for an hour. he doesn’t show. our flight is due to leave at 1.30pm and it’s now time to leave.
he finally whizzes up in a chauffeur-driven golf buggy. he apologises profusely and I decide not to make a fuss as we’re spending the next three days together. We make the 18-minute journey in a private six-seater plane to Brampton Island’s Voyages retreat. We’re met by the manager and personally shown around – it’s obvious this is the type of treatment Ben gets wherever he goes. But far from being able to relax, Ben has an image to maintain and a job to do – he has to be involved in as many activities as possible so he can update his tweets and blogs and ‘sell’ the place to his followers. he came under fire from the media in his first few weeks in the job for not doing this, and I don’t think he wants that kind of attention again. Being in the spotlight, and earning taxpayers’ money is difficult though, because should he put a foot wrong, the press is watching. Even Ben admits: “they’re waiting for me to fall.” During our stay, we go snorkelling, walking, fishing, and jet skiing. While I’m resting Ben goes exploring and running – he doesn‘t stop. At one point, as we’re relaxing on sunloungers, he’s so exhausted he falls asleep. two minutes later, he’s awake, and, embarrassed at being caught sleeping on the job, decides to swim to the next island – 800 metres away. I leave him to it.
In the evening we dine together – one night our eight-course meal lasts five hours, during which it’s hard to make Ben sit still. Even Ben admits, had I not been there, he would be lonely. he’s personable and speaks to people all the time, telling them what he’s been doing and what he plans to do once the contract ends. People stop him to shake his hand and have their photo taken with him. But, essentially, whenever he goes to ‘review’ a resort, he’s surrounded by strangers most of the time. We fly back to hamilton the following day, where Ben is whisked off for photoshoots and interviews. Like thousands worldwide, I saw the advert for the best job in the world: “Duties include cleaning the pool” – cue man swimming in an infinity pool with stunning views in the background – and “feeding the fish” – cut to scuba divers enjoying Australia’s wondrous Great Barrier Reef. But it didn’t really mention being a glorified publicist and basically the ‘face’ of the Whitsundays. If Carlsberg was to have made the advert, it would have asked: is this the best job in the world? Probably. But like most things in life, some promises are just too good to be true.
’’
I wanted to walk a mile in his flip-flops on sandy beaches and find out whether or not the rest of us really had missed out on the job of a lifetime.
#112 get lost! ISSUE #23
’’
get in the know! Whitsunday Island, famous for the incredible Whitehaven Beach, is the largest island in the Whitsunday group of islands.