When the engine finally chugs to a stop, the silence is deafening. For an hour and a half we had motored through a light chop in the Cebu Strait, the last of the day's sun catching burnt faces, the ancient engine of our traditional Filipino banka outrigger catching and wheezing like an asthmatic. Finally, it gives up the battle, leaving us drifting, cast in the middle of the stunning Talima Marine Sanctuary, a sprawling marine plateau of coral and impossibly blue water, like a pearl cast onto azure silk sheets.
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It's early morning and at the tiny ports of Victoria, capital of the Seychelles, boats are being loaded with supplies. In a nation of scattered islands like the Seychelles, everything comes in by either boat or plane and has to be transported, often by hand, out to the resorts that grace some of the world's most beautiful beaches. I'm off to one such place, a tiny private island an hour's cruise from the main island of Mahe. Riding the gentle swell in, the wow-effect comes as we putter around into the main bay, where the water is the colour of mint mouthwash and the beach is blindingly white.
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Ibu is the Indonesian word for mother. On Bali, surely one of the most fertile places on earth, this simple word appropriately carries much grace and dignity. Women are respected and regarded as equals in Balinese culture. So after a few days on Bali, when men and women alike began calling me ibu, I felt welcome. My sister had leased a villa in quiet East Bali, far from the popular tourist locales of south Bali and under the shadow of Mt. Agung, the island's highest and most sacred volcanic mountain.
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In the middle of winter down under, Sydney is a sparkling jewel. Sunlight bounces off the harbor and is reflected in the glass towers of Sydney's CBD, or Central Business District. The Royal Botanical Gardens and parks lining the waterfront are still vividly green, despite the cooler winter temps. At lunch hour, business people trade their suits and ties for jogging attire. Seemingly everyone is getting fit in the midday winter sun. Sydney is ideal for runners and power walkers - flat, at sea level, and with crisp, cool air. What better way to build up an appetite and sample the eclectic tastes of this city?
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Navigating the serpentine streets of Stone Town, Zanzibar, is an exercise in patience. Put aside thoughts of reaching your destination in a timely manner. Instead, follow the undulating curves of the alleyways, pause to take in a group of schoolboys playing a pick-up game of soccer or watch a barefoot child roll a tire down a narrow passageway. Beautiful women in flowing black hijabs walk purposefully, eyes downcast. Vendors call out from crumbling doorways, hawking antiques, mancala boards and souvenirs. Seagulls cruising the Indian Ocean screech overhead.
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On the outskirts of Dodoma, the capital of Tanzania, micro- enterprise is making a difference in the lives of rural villagers. Central Tanzania is reminiscent of the American southwest: red clay earth, simple mud-brick dwellings, dry riverbeds and deep blue skies.
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"Poverty can be a thing of the past if all of us consider the other person's lot rather than focusing on our successes or failures. It is amazing how small sacrifices in terms of time and financial resources can change the fate of the under-privileged."
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Winter in southern Africa - June, July and August - is an excellent time to visit the Southern Hemisphere. Cape Town and surroundings are cool but still lovely, with charming restaurants and delicious wines. Namibia remains dramatic and wide open, and the wildlife viewing is at its best in Zambia and Botswana. The combination of city life and thrilling animal encounters appealed to our entire family.
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My favourite time to explore Kennedy Town is Sunday mornings. Unlike many expats in Hong Kong, I like to rise early to see my adopted neighbourhood wake for the new day, something I share with the local Chinese. This particular Sunday I wake early and wrap up warm. Despite Hong Kong's reputation as a steaming Asian hot spot, it has its winter too. My neighbours, as usual, have beaten me to the rising and the shining; in the stairwell of my ancient low-rise apartment building there is already the tang of incense in the air and I pass smoking incense sticks poking out from tiny doorway shrines.
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The city of Arusha in northern Tanzania is a jumping off point for many travelers to the Serengeti and Mt. Kilimanjaro. But there is another, perhaps more compelling reason to visit this small outpost.
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