It’s been a week of change – unexpected and secretly, expected. My travel plans to Panama have been reviewed and cancelled in lieu of a trip back home to New Zealand. The reasons are complicated but for those of you who have been following my green card visa process let’s just say I’m going back to New Zealand so I can return to the US as a resident — temporary status.
I left New Zealand seven years ago for Japan and then onto Korea. Of course I have been back home several times over the years and when I do return to New Zealand’s shores, I always revisit some of my old favourites: haunts, food, friends. It’s a way of touching base with my homeland even if the favourites change and evolve over time.
by Cate
The Pacific’s eastern shorelines of both islands are calmer than the western shores of the Tasman Sea, until a southerly storm blows up from Antarctica, which can occur anytime of the year. During summer the beaches and shorelines are great for long walks and discovering penguins and seals.
by Cate
Wellington City, small enough to walk around in a day, big enough to eat at a different place everyday, and windy enough to blow you off the sidewalk. When it blows in Wellington be prepared to cling to traffic lights so you don’t get blown away.
The cafe scene in New Zealand is big and homey. It’s almost like walking into your grandmother’s kitchen, that is if she were Italian who loved good old fashioned English cakes. I love the sweet sour taste of a lemon slice …
by Cate
And sharing it with some of my old friends.
by Cate
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Not forgetting the two-legged kind and family.
This is part of Photo Friday, for more posts check out Delicious Baby.
Caffeinated Traveller
New travel writers are constantly warned about the pitfalls of using clichés and adjectives to describe an experience. The writer is expected to convey a sense of realism and feeling by choosing words that show, not tell, the reader about travel.
Things are different in travel conversations. Clichés go in free fall, adjectives describe everything and anything in flowery format and are often categorised in degrees of satisfaction alongside a noun — great time, good food, nice weather and awesome man! Nothing or no-one is left unscathed by such language because eager travellers want to share their new discoveries with any available ear.
One such conversation — which amuses and also bugs me – is “the friendly people” conversation. In an attempt to convey a great discovery, the traveller pulls out every possible superlative, to compare and contrast their recent experiences with past experiences — louder than others, the rudest ever, the funniest, the most easy-going I’ve met.
These opinions are largely formed from small interactions or observations and nothing more. Politeness is viewed as kindness, a surly face is regarded as cold, pushy is considered rude and smiles are all too often revered.
Travellers speak of these local encounters as though it were a new phenomenon, forgetting the possibility that friendly people exist everywhere: neighbours, street vendors, teachers, drivers, business empire builders.
My observations: emotions don’t discriminate, people choose how they feel, the only difference in the level of friendliness is — perception.
by Cate
Caffeinated Traveller
It was a usual September morning in Panama City, the sun was beginning to push its way to the streets below, traffic began building as sleepy-eyed commuters inched their way to work, and school buses belched out fumes in protest of their age and overall neglect.
I met Heraldo — an indigenous Indian, coffee lover and super-guide — got into his car and drove off in the opposite direction of the bustle. We were heading towards the Chagre River, a waterway that feeds the Panama Canal, entertains botanists and conservationists worldwide, and is access to a group of Embera Indian villages. It was also where I would be spending the day learning about basket weaving with the plan of bringing some back with me to Panama.
Originally from the remote Darien province near the Colombian border, the Embera tribes moved closer to Panama City decades back, settling in the surrounding rainforest. While the men are skilled carvers and hunters, it’s the women who have gained a reputation over the years for their basket weaving. Certain pieces have been known to sell from $2000 – $11,000 or more in high street stores and private dealers in the US. Of course these baskets are more than just an object for carrying or holding, they are – objet d’art.
by Cate
Time, technique, and age of the weaver contribute largely to the basket’s quality. Each basket tells a story relating to tribal lore and mores, are made from a palm fibre, natural dyes and threaded using a fine point needle. Like other forms of art, the weaver places their logo or signature style on the base of the basket, these baskets are meant to be hung and viewed from all angles.
by JR May
After careful budget considerations I decided that this trip would purely be for the fun factor. Plus buying baskets directly from the weavers was also satisfying. For the less serious art collector — you know, the person who just wants something simple — young Embera women weave plates using a thicker thread, still retaining the patterns and colours, but sell at a real price of $45.
by Cate
I’m a big fan of indigenous art and tend to seek out places less known to souvenir hunters. Sometimes, it means a trip down a river in a dug-out canoe, but in the end it’s all about the journey.
Don’t forget to check out the other bloggers @ Delicious Baby for more photo Friday stories.
Caffeinated Traveller
It stands in the centre of Chitre town, a feature on a vehicular roundabout. It chimes as the quarter hour passes completing a full tune every hour. It gleams white in the full day light and cools people as they enter inside. It’s Iglesias San Juan Bautiste — a church yes, a religious thing possibly, a way of life definitely.
If you stay in the provincial town Chitre it’s likely you will come across this church whether you plan to or not. It’s literally the central landmark of the town, opening at sunrise and closing at sunset, acting as a beacon to devotees who seek — companionship for a lonely old man, hope for a young women fervently in front of Christ, solace for a grandmother over her active grandson; and a quiet place for a lunchtime worker texting.
There isn’t much left of the original 19th century interior workmanship, but there is plenty of beautifully renovated woodwork, gilding and stained glass. In keeping with the laws of nature pigeons continue to coo high in the rafters, reminding us of their right to protection.
Long gone are the days when choirs or solo organists practiced their upcoming Sunday services. Instead the church plays salsa style hymns on speakers above the entrance ways. Even religion has to keep up with new trends.
It’s not a religious thing to enjoy sitting in a quiet place, beautifully restored, away from the heat, but a chance to see the strength of faith within a culture.
Caffeinated Traveller
