Ecuador

Hey Folks,

Well, after 2 months, we’ve finally moved on from Ecuador. I don’t think we expected much from this little country when we arrived, but we got so much out of our time there that we can’t even begin to talk about it. Once again, just photos this time – covering the costs, the mountains, the jungles, a little glimpse at everything that made it such a wonderful place to visit.

We’re in Peru now, taking a little time with family and working on our next videos. We’ll have more updates soon enough. Thanks for your comments and support, we always appreciate it – and happy new year!

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Colombia

We spent five weeks in Colombia and it wasn’t nearly enough.  After 2 years on the road, to find ourselves in one of the friendliest countries either of us had ever visited was a real treat.  We have a selection of our photos from our time there below, we hope you enjoy – and we hope we get to go back to Colombia someday soon.

For the rest, there might be some of you wondering where the lengthy rants of our travel updates have gone (anything is possible, right?).  We’ve decided to let them slide though, we’ll be just doing photo updates from now on.  Partially this is a question of time – we prefer to focus our efforts on visiting projects and making videos.  Partially though, let’s face it, bumping around in a bus isn’t as exciting as biking – we miss our Da Silvas!

In the mean time, we hope you enjoy the projects and the photos and of course, any comments, questions, or advice are always welcome.  Happy Holidays!

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Central America

We’re updating the site from Bogota where will be spending the next few weeks getting some work done and eating arepas.

To cover the last two months, here’s a selection of photos of our time in Central America.

Hope you enjoy it and as always, thanks for checking in!

Posted in Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Panama | 1 Comment

Mexico

Photos available here.

For even more photos and news, check out our facebook page!

Let’s start with the essential: Tacos.

They are infinitely better in Mexico than in the US. The corn tortillas are tiny and bite-sized and you can eat a dozen before you realize you’ve made yourself sick. And why do we waste our time with those hard taco shells up north? Why are our tortillas not nearly so good? We have a lot to learn.

Burritos though, there the Americans have the edge. We’ve perfected that up north in our own way. Though an American burrito with a good Mexican corn tortilla… could be magic.

Quesadillas are pretty much the same everywhere – there is only so much you can do with a tortilla and melted cheese it seems.

Everything else – tamales, taquitos, tostadas, empanadas, etc. – is better in Mexico; you could eat every meal here for a year and never repeat the same dish twice. Though that does not forgive other, more worrisome culinary trends, like mayonnaise on corn, or chili sauce on fresh fruit – and definitely not chili in beer. I don’t know who started that one, but it’s just not okay…

Since our last update, we left Puerto Vallarta for Guadalajara, and then continued on to Mexico City, Oaxaca, and San Cristobal de las Casas in Chiapas. It’s hard to imagine that the scorched desert we crossed in early June is the same country as the chilly mountain forests we’ve been traveling through the past few weeks. Not to mention that in the middle of the two was one of the biggest cities in the world…

Some things are the same throughout this country though – the aforementioned delicious tacos, for one.

For another, Mexicans everywhere seem to mistrust their government and have nothing but contempt for its “War on Drugs.” Our first night in Hermosillo, our couch surfing host brought us to a bar where there was a poster on the wall proclaiming, “This war isn’t against the drug cartels, it’s against the poor. It’s no coincidence that in Juarez only the poor are killed. Get the soldiers off the streets, no peace wit hout justice.”

In Guadalajara friends joked about how every little problem in the country is now blamed on the drug syndicates. Trash pickup is late? It’s the Narcos’ fault…

In Mexico City, a veritable tent city was occupying the central square, demanding the resignation of the president and the end to the war on drugs.

In Chiapas, we heard again and again of government paramilitaries murdering local people and spreading dissent in indigenous areas, officially as part of the war on drugs, but in the minds of locals just another way to continue its fight against the poor and the indigenous. In the latest round, the government has apparently blamed the indigenous people for climate change. Yes, you might have thought that Mexico’s contribution to global warming had something to do with having one of the largest and most polluted cities in the world in its center, or all that industry in the maquilladores along the US border, but no: it’s the villagers in the forest who have lived on the same land for millenia without trouble that are destroying the planet…

As foreigners though, especially foreigners who just came from 16 months in Africa, there was a somewhat blasphemous thought that kept coming to mind – actually, the Mexican government looked pretty good to us…

We really came to appreciate this in Guadalajara, when for the first (and not the last) time a Mexican told us that it was easier for us to travel since we came from a first world country where everyone was rich – Mexico on the other hand was a third world country and so people had to work to get by. Good news for any Americans reading this – have you heard? You don’t have to work anymore to get by!

We’d heard the same line in Africa and we never quite knew what to think. Sure our lives are easier than the average African, and we have more opportunities to save money and to travel than they do. But the US and Europe are not the paradises that they seemed to think they were.

And then coming in Mexico, it just seemed so out of touch with what we saw day by day around us – blackberries, iPhones, functioning bus terminals, clean city parks, exceptional museums…

You’re not a third world country if your bus stations are nicer than New York City’s airports. Or if your cultural history is preserved in your own country rather than in a European capital. You’re not a third world country if your trash is picked up regularly, and if your public parks are well maintained… I could go on and on.

Compared to Africa at least, life in Mexico is quite good; the government clearly delivers a lot of services for its people. Which is not to diminish the downsides – there is serious poverty as well, and a government which can legitimately be accused of killing its own citizens to chase them off their land isn’t a good one by any measure. But sometimes we forget that there is poverty in the United States too, and that we have our own corruption, every bit as insidious and destructive. And Europe is no different – cycling in eastern Europe in 2008, Anna and I passed through Roma villages that were at least as poor as anything we saw in Mexico, if not worse.

And while the US government does not have paramilitaries wandering the jungle killing its own civilians, it’s far from the “land of the free” that the rest of the world sometimes thinks it is – two years in prison for preventing the government “of the people, by the people and for the people” from illegally auctioning off the people’s land to mining companies is hardly a perfect democracy.

And Europe isn’t much better – as I write this, the president of France is still pushing forward mass expulsions of Roma, often the poorest people in Europe, in blatant disregard for even the loosest concept of Human Rights.

If anything, the mass protests we have seen in Mexico, with villagers bearing socialist banners camped out in the central plaza in Mexico City or San Cristobal de las Casas, seem far more democratic and open than anything we have seen back home. Just remember the NYPD infiltrating protestors at the Republican National Convention and then starting fights to create a pretext for arrests… And where are the street marches in France in defense of the Roma? Where are the Americans camping out in front of the White House for Tim DeChristopher?

One of our favorite moments in Mexico was going to see Lucha Libre in Mexico city. It’s like vaudeville meets halloween meets Terminator 2. I didn’t expect to like it as much as I did – the wrestlers are real athletes and the crowd gets so into it that you can’t help but be dragged along, rooting for the good guys (los tecnicos) to come from behind and beat the bad guys (los rudos).

It was only later that I decided that I think the lucha is the key to Mexican culture. All that anger at the government, all that cynicism, it’s just that people here don’t take any shit. They have in the past, they’ve been through dictatorships and wars and immigration and corruption, and they’ve clearly decided that enough is enough. It’s time for the tecnicos to rally and toss the rudos out of the ring and then to climb up on the ropes and throw themselves spread-eagled on top of the reeling enemy, pulling his legs up and pinning him down and taking his mask off!

And while I don’t think the real world is that simple – human nature is far too complex for there to be good guys and bad guys, and hearing Marx and Lenin quoted in political discussions without a hint of irony as has happened over the past few months is always a little disquieting – the fight is admirable. In the US and Europe, we have become so accepting and blasé about so many things, from injustice to inequality to environmental destruction, that shouldn’t be accepted ever, anywhere.

We could learn a lot from la lucha.

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What is Permaculture?

So what is the ‘perma’ in ‘permacyclists’ for? Permanent? Permafrost?”

A question we hear fairly often actually.

And then, when we reply, “No, Permaculture!” there is another small silence, this one a little awkward as if they’re trying to figure out just what language we just spoke. Was that Eskimo?

And then eventually when it’s clear we were speaking English (or French or Spanish or KiSwahili or Cibemba or…) comes the inevitable question: “What the hell is that?” Which honestly is a little frustrating since now it’s our turn to look confused: we’re never quite sure how to answer. It’s just not that easy to give a concise definition of permaculture without completely befuddling the person who’s asked.

So today, for those of you who want to know just what permaculture is without having to pick apart our usually incomprehensible ramblings, we have a special update to try and explain some of it, with photos and references even so you don’t have to take our word for any of it.

For those of you who prefer the usual travel updates, fear not, they’ll be back in two weeks with a summary of our time in Mexico.

And of course don’t forget to check the “projects” section, updated regularly with videos and descriptions of all the good news on the environment that you can handle.

Puerto Vallarta, the first stage of our trip in Mexico, led to us practicing permaculture in a very concrete way and that’s how we’ll lay out this little explanation. Vallarta is a beach town full of resorts and tourists that is generally about as far from permaculture as you can get.

We weren’t there for the beaches though: since our time in Africa the idea of intentionally sitting in the sun has lost all appeal to both of us. Rather, we were there to WWOOF for four weeks with Ana and Krystal, who run a delivery organic grocery network in town and who work to convince the farmers in the surroundings to take the organic plunge (we’ll have more about them in a few weeks in our projects section).

Behind their house, Ana and Krystal have a small experimental garden where they test varieties of fruits and vegetables they hope to eventually commercialize. The problem though is that Ana and Krystal work so much that they don’t have all the time they would like to work in the garden – just where permaculture, “lazy-man’s agriculture” comes into the picture.

So during the first few days, after a short talk, Ana and Krystal were game to let us try and apply some of the permaculture principles in their garden to try and make it as productive as possible in such a small space.

We started with some time drawing all over a plan of the garden trying to anticipate the changes we wanted to make. This is the “design” that permaculture is so often associated with and it can take a lot longer than ours did – but fortunately Ana and Krystal knew what they wanted and how to make their land work.

And then on to that most useful of garden projects: a compost pile.

Compost heaps are so great because they let you “make” quality soil with very little technology or time. All you need are two compartments where you pile up organic matter from the kitchen and garden (keeping a balance between the two). Once one compartment is full, let it sit while you fill up the other, stirring, waiting or even watering it depending on the climate and the time of year. If it’s working, the interior of the pile will get smoking hot. When it’s done, it can be spread out in the garden.

It’s obviously possible to build composts that are more beautiful and more expensive than this one, but reusing and recycling are always priorities in permaculture and we used the materials available on-site. And besides – if you’re going to be piling your garbage somewhere, just how pretty does it need to be?

The next step was to address the always essential question of water. In the tropics just as much as desert regions, it’s important to be able to recover rainwater and to be ready for the natural peaks and valleys of the year’s precipitation.

There are tons of ways to do this without spending much money. For our part, we stuck to croissants and swales…

Croissants are just a built-up barrier downhill from a tree in the shape of a… wait for it… croissant! (Yes, we learned permaculture in Francophone Europe) The idea is that the flow of water is slowed by the croissant long enough to sink into the soil rather than just running along the surface. This way as much water as possible actually goes to the tree and any other plants you put in around its base (this is a great spot for a guild – see below). In the left-hand photo, there’s heaps of organic matter aded to the soil which serves to protect it from drying out when the sun returns, and of course which decomposes itself in time, contributing to the health of the soil (and avoiding the need for the compost pile we talked about above…).

A swale is a ditch dug along a contour line so that it is on level the whole way across. Rather than funneling water away like a drainage ditch would, it stops the water and lets it soak into the soil (where hopefully there are plants waiting to drink it up). The photo here is of our half-dug swale from Kenya. There is no limit to how many swales you can put on a given bit of land, and if you plant on the downhill side you can make sure you’re using that infiltrated water to grow things and that you’re doing everything to fight erosion. In a few years, the plants’ roots infiltrate enough to take the place of the swale. It’s easy, it’s cheap, and check out this video to see just how effective it can be: Greening the Desert.

Once the question of water is solved, it’s time to decide where will be planted. One way to do it is to decide where the pathways are going to go – and then you just plant everywhere else!

In Vallarta, we started by putting clearer edges on the existing pathways with bricks – the material that was available, almost anything else could do. And then we laid out new beds with the “double-dig” method, which we had learned back in Malawi and which is no one’s favorite way to prepare a bed since just as the name implies it entails a lot of digging. It’s a great way to get through hardpan clay soils though and that was what we were working with here.

Generally with beds, the idea is to maximize the space available for planting, which means breaking away from the image of the square and rectangle garden – spirals, water-drops, circles, H’s, keyholes, amoebas – all are more efficient uses of space than a straight line. This also falls under the heading of “learn from nature” – there are no straight lines in the natural world, only in the man-made one.

Here the beds were dug, covered with a layer of cardboard (which eventually decays but which serves as a weed barrier for a time), powdered with agricultural lime, and then recovered with straw, compost, and the soil we’d just dug up. We then planted them with peanuts: a legume, which means among other things that it has a symbiotic relationship with a bacteria that takes nitrogen from the air and fixes it into the soil to make them a sort of natural, work-free fertilizer. We then covered the beds with a layer of straw for mulch (again, the material that was available).

Mulch is again learning from nature: bare soil almost never occurs naturally. In a forest, in a grassland, anywhere where the natural world lives without human interference, the soil is covered by decomposing leaves, by grasses, or by other plants. Just look at what happens to an untended bit of city sidewalk if you leave it alone: how long before grass starts sprouting up to cover it? Less time than you might think.

Oh, and don’t forget to mark out pathways through the beds so you never have to walk on planted soil!

Since Ana and Krystal do a lot of cooking as part of their delivery service, an herb garden is an important bit of their yard, and it is also a good example of how permaculture principles can be applied. An herb spiral is a more efficient, more diverse way of planting a garden and it can be built in two hours with locally available materials. Since the planting space is sloped, a spiral has greater surface area than if it were flat, and then the spiral shape creates a series of microclimates that let you plant a wider variety of species (the north side gets less sun, the south more, and the bricks and stones of the structure hold the heat or cold longer). You can even vary the type of soil as you go up the circle and add another level of specificity to your garden.

Our hostesses also wanted an area to build a huge fire for their sweat-lodge. Before, the only barrier between the plants and the fire was a bit of iron sheeting that would get so hot that it was really barely a barrier at all. We decided instead to replace it with a cob wall, which would keep the heat all on the fire side of things and let them plant right up to the edge of the space.

And of course the nicest thing about cob is that it’s made from things readily available in or just near any garden: clay subsoil, sand, straw, and a little water.

It’s worth it to make a few tests to be sure the soil is right and to get the mix down pat – just vary the mix for each test and then let them sit outside and dry. When they’re dry, bang ‘em up and see if they’re strong enough. The strongest mix wins!

Then mix them well…

With the base laid out of old bricks, you just pile on the cob, making sure to not put too much on at once (or it will squish down) and to let each level dry out a bit before putting on the next. Just keep going on up until you reach the height you want, and feel free to sculpt and mold any shapes you want. Just google “cob wall” if you want inspiration – or better still, check out our friend Eva’s beautiful work over at Fire Speaking to see about building cob ovens, rocket stoves, and barrel ovens.

In Vallarta, the wall was very simple, and with the rainy season we didn’t have time to finish it. We explained the technique though, it’s simple enough that it can be finished easily.

And voila, after 4 weeks of working, the basis of a working permaculture garden was set up, with space used as efficiently as possible to make it as efficient as possible.

Here again, as in nature, no planting monocultures in straight lines, instead laying beds out in guilds or just tossing seeds. Guilds are groups of plants which work together symbiotically and can let you maximize the space used.


So yeah, that’s the idea, and there is no reason you can’t do the same in your own garden! Whether it’s an herb spiral near the kitchen door or a small patch of tomatoes and basil, it’s an easy way to make life a bit more delicious and to do a little for the planet, cutting down on food miles, pesticides, and synthetic fertilizers!

For more information on permaculture or on any of the specific bits mentioned here, just click on the links in the text or check out the “resources” section where we mention some interesting books and links. And of course, don’t hesitate to get in touch if you have any comments or questions.

Permaculturally yours,

-Anna and Dave

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USA to Mexico

Photos available here

And check out our new flashy video here!

When we set out to travel overland from New York to Rio, I definitely worried about some things – drug cartels in Mexico, right-wing extremists in Colombia, Dengue and Malaria in the Amazon…

Maybe all that will still happen, but what I realize now that that list was incomplete without two simple words: Amtrak and Greyhound.

The United States public transportation system sucks.  It really sucks.  It really really sucks.  I also think it’s probably racist and elitist, but that’s a whole other rant, and it’s possible I’m still too bitter about the experience over the past month to be unbiased.

Example:  Our train was 4 hours late arriving in DC from New York – a city 4 hours away!

One of our Greyhound drivers backed into a 20-story building (It jumped right in front of me, officer!).

I could go on and on…  This country has a lot to learn in terms of mass transit – not a good sign if we think of all that peak oil and climate change have coming down the pipeline for us.  Six dollar a gallon gas is going to be rough in a country that can’t keep to a simple bus timetable.  And yet how can we give up our cars if the only long-distance alternative is a type of medieval torture?

Which is not to belabor the point, but it’s just strange from a country which regularly calls itself the “richest nation in the world.”  If we’re so rich, then why are we incapable of selling bus tickets that correspond to actual seats so that boarding isn’t a mad rush like the Running of the Bulls?  Tanzania can manage that, why can’t we?

But I digress.

We left DC on Amtrak, destination New Orleans.  Once we finally got going it was actually a nice enough trip, very quiet and relaxed and comfortable.  If you have the time, I highly recommend it.  If you have the time.

Along the way, we passed through areas of Alabama that had just been hit by a tornado.  It was dusk, and the train was full, and must have tilted over to one side for a stretch because everyone was leaning and gawking out the left windows – for about five minutes we passed a town that simply didn’t exist anymore.  As far as the eye could see, there was just rubble and flattened houses and crumpled stores and toppled trees.

A fitting entrance to New Orleans.

Any book about climate change will include a bit about New Orleans, and so setting out to learn about people trying to fight climate change, and having read our fair share of books about climate change lately, we were curious to see what the city had in store.  Six years ago a lot of it looked like that town in Alabama – but today?

It’s hard to say as a tourist.  We didn’t have the sense of traveling in a war zone, but there were still a surprising number of shuttered and blown-out buildings, even right in the heart of downtown – but maybe that’s more a sign of the mortgage crisis than anything else?

We arrived at just about the same time as the Mississippi flood that had so damaged Memphis, and our last night in town we met up with some friends along its swollen banks where a line of police tape kept the crowds back.  The Army Corps of Engineers had let out most of the water by then to protect the city they didn’t protect six years ago, and if our friends hadn’t told us this was the big flood, we might not even have noticed.

But still, that’s the thing about New Orleans now, it puts hurricanes in your mind, you can’t help but think about Katrina when you’re there.  We did realize quite soon that the French Quarter wasn’t for us (picture Bruges, but run by Larry Flynt), which freed us up for the real highlight: the coffee shops.  They have some great coffee shops in that town, at least one of which even claims to have fresh H&H bagels.  Who knows, maybe so?

Still, it was all very familiar in the end for me.  Even if New Orleans is like no other place in the US, it’s still a place in the US, and after sixteen months in Africa I just didn’t really feel like we were traveling anymore, it was all like being home. Everyone speaks my language, everyone has the same cultural references.  Which is not to say that we didn’t make our usual share of faux pas – including Anna eliciting peals of laughter from a crowd of Texans when she asked if we could “walk to the grocery store” from where we were.

“Honey, this is Texas, I drive to get my mail,” was one response.  Amen!

Though actually, if anything, on the environmental front, it was a mixed month.  On the up-side, we met some amazing organizations that are doing some really great things, even in the heart of oil country.  There were the folks at Transition Houston, who were unbelievably kind and welcoming as we learned how to film and interview for the first time.  They are working to make Houston, the capital of the global oil industry, where people drive to get their mail, a resilient, sustainable, oil-free community.  Yikes!

Then there was Lester from Food, Shelter, Water, who took time off work to drive us out to his land and show us around his self-sufficient homestead in the heart of Austin.  He has spent $100,000 of his own money in legal fees just to have the right to live off the grid where he does.

And finally, the whole gang at Houston Access to Urban Sustainability (HAUS), who were an avalanche of kindness, and to whom we owe a huge debt.  They are running the first green housing co-op in all of Houston (the 4th largest city in the US), and are doing it with such energy and joy that you know they will be successful.  And hey, who cares if you drive to get your mail when your car runs on vegetable oil recovered from the Chinese take-out place down the block?

We’ll have more on all of those organizations in the coming weeks as we put together and post our first videos.

And really, we could go on and on listing all the people we have met over the past month who became good friends – Anna even declared Texas, “America’s best kept secret.”

I hesitate though.  I was in the middle of listing the up-sides on the environmental front, and some of those wonderful people have nothing to do with the environment, a fair number of them work for oil companies actually, and plenty of others just aren’t interested in things like climate change.

In the end though, it’s the fact that all those people who wouldn’t call themselves environmentalists were so wonderful that made us feel good about things.  We realized at some point, no doubt while laughing, that once this movement gets some momentum behind it, and once people decide that it’s really time to change, and that we’re all environmentalists, it will be an avalanche.  An avalanche of wonderful people – who can stop that?

And so now I hesitate again.  My little outline would have me list the downsides on the environmental front here, the droughts and the forest fires and the rainy season gone missing, and…

But I’m not going to.  Not this time.  Maybe next time.  Y’all know all that, you don’t need me to tell you.

Oh, and just one last thing.

We’re in Mexico now, where the bus system is fantastic!

More on that in a month.  In the meantime, enjoy the new video, don’t hesitate to pass it around, and check back in two weeks for our first full-on video update: Transition Houston.

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The US of A

Photos available here

So long since our last update, I bet y’all thought we were dead! 

No such luck, although we did come close to it.  Or no, that’s a bit overdramatic, and I shouldn’t speak for Annabelle.  But for my part, I certainly felt like I was almost dead.  It turns out I was not alone sitting in seat 15B on the flight out of Lilongwe – I was sharing the space with a few hundred thousand of my closest friends who just didn’t want me to leave Africa behind…

Schistosomiasis for some, Bhilarzia for others – a very unpleasant way to spend the first few weeks home for me!  It was a bit difficult to get through that initial re-entry period, with reunions with family and friends accompanied by a pesky lingering abdominal pain that seemed to befuddle all the doctors.

We found the right pills in the end though (Prozyquantil: 2$ in Malawi – 200$ in NYC), and I have to say, it was almost worth it for the pleasure of the doctor visits, just the sight of otherwise stoic Manhattan physicians turning white when I told them where I’d just come from. 

“You actually swam in Lake Victoria?  Are you nuts?” 

But there was nowhere else to wash ourselves!  And besides, let the record show that my schisto was not acquired on Mfangano Island, but more likely somewhere in Mozambique or even Malawi, where we didn’t swim in any fresh water but may have washed with some that was contaminated.

Otherwise, coming home after a year and a half in Africa, we weren’t quite sure what to expect.  We had missed so much – films, current events, deaths, births – would we have any place back home? 

It was a real joy to find our friends and family though, and to see that time and distance can’t break apart the strongest relationships.  Which is not to say that things haven’t changed at all – we saw friends and family who had become mothers and fathers since we last saw them, who had published books, who had changed careers, bought houses, written plays and movies and opened Tai Chi studios…  And yet invariably we managed to sit and talk as if nothing had happened and no time had gone by.  It was a real treat that made it harder to leave again – it’s nice to have people who know where you’re from and what’s important, and being far from those people is probably the hardest thing about traveling – even worse than the schistosomiasis if you can believe it. 

Also though, after our decision to give up the bikes and continue on down to Rio by public transportation, the question weighing on our minds as we rediscovered New York and Brussels was whether we were we were alone to feel the gravity of the situation, the looming crisis of climate change. 

At first, all around us things seemed to be going on as usual.  Manhattan luxury stores seemed just as packed as ever, there were more iPhones on the street than we had imagined possible, more and more people were telling us about their plans to fly around the world or even just across the state for short vacations.  In Brussels, friends told us of a popular backlash against environmentalism, with ads now mocking concern for the environment.  In New York, a huge network of bike paths had elicited a backlash (though what doesn’t elicit a backlash in New York), with an angry resident calling cyclists, “terrorists.” 

Personally, I started to doubt whether there was any problem: surely if we had done irreparable harm to our climate and the very survival of life on Earth was in jeopardy there would be some kind of response, right?  People wouldn’t just go on calmly with their daily lives as if nothing was wrong, right? 

So don’t worry, everything must be fine, just relax and have another cheeseburger…

And then during just an hour watching CNN we saw news coverage of unprecedented tornadoes in Missouri, of catastrophic wildfires in Texas, of a food-safety scare in California…  Not to mention the flooding in Memphis, now pending in New Orleans.  Or the hydro-fracking spill in Pennsylvania.  Or the company responsible for the Gulf of Mexico oil spill applauding itself in its annual report for its exceptional safety record in 2010.

It all felt like a scene from Eaarth, or Hot, or Six Degrees, or Storms of my Grandchildren, or any of the other books we had been reading recently about the pending climate crisis.  Things weren’t looking good…

We spent a month in New York trying to get ready for the road down to Rio, and it was while we were there that our plans changed once again.  We were talking with a friend at ATD Fourth World when we had the idea of bringing a video camera with us for our trip down to Rio.  If we wanted people to see what we saw, and to have the same sense of the changes going on in the world today, then we would have to bring them along with us – and maybe along the way we could cure our own pessimism some as well and find other people who were taking action against climate change and who might be able to show the rest of us the next steps forward. 

It isn’t like nothing is being done, we just have to find what’s out there.

So we have decided to start filming our trip, going out of our way to find as many organizations working for the environment as possible.  Hopefully we can put it all together into some kind of documentary film at the end covering the people we’ve met, with maybe a sense of what sort of actions are being taken around the world, of what ordinary people can do and what works.  All of it building up of course to the Rio summit that is still our destination: June 2012, the UN Conference on Sustainable Development.

We left New York a month ago with a video camera in hand and five billion ideas bumping around our heads.  We then spent three weeks in Asheville North Carolina learning about natural building – cob, adobe, straw-bale, timber-framing, bamboo, etc.  Forty percent of the world’s resources (and CO2 emissions) are linked to the building industry: natural building is an abundant, cheap, durable, and ecological alternative.  We built a small house, a barrel oven, a fireplace, and various other projects and met some of the most wonderful, engaged people we have met all trip as well.

Now, we are back north in Washington DC.  From here we will make the big turn to the south, heading out by train to New Orleans, then across Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona before heading down into Mexico.  We hope to visit some Transition Towns along the way over the next few weeks, and to make it to an organic farm in Puerto Vallarta by mid-June.

Our next update should come from there, where hopefully we’ll speak a little Spanish and have a bit more optimistic news to share!

As always, thank you for your support.  Your comments and e-mails are more than welcome – and for all our friends and family: we miss you dearly, thanks for welcoming us home so warmly!

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Malawi



Photos available here

As I write this, sitting on a bed in a hotel in Lilongwe, a massive thunderstorm is slowly gathering and crossing the city towards us, and the sky outside our window is a dark gray.

We have just a few days left in Africa, the continent that has been our home for the past sixteen months.  It has been a long sixteen months.  We covered 12,302km by bike, from Nairobi to Cape Town and then back up to Northern Mozambique.  If we were a little disappointed not to peddle the last stretch into Malawi, it is a small disappointment and one that we’ve all but forgotten now.  We have no regrets over anything that has happened over the past sixteen months, and the opportunity to cycle and travel on this continent is something we will never forget, that we will forever be grateful for. Continue reading

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Mozambique

Photos available here

Practical information for cyclists is available here

If we were a little relieved to be leaving South Africa, we weren’t quite ready for Mozambique…

After a quick interlude of two days to cross Swaziland (a country which merits a much longer visit than that), the border gave us a taste of what was to come.  Just across the frontier, the road goes from crisp black asphalt to a pot-holed and rutted track that probably was paved at some point…  though there isn’t much sign of it now. Continue reading

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Eastern Cape

Photos available here

Practical information for cyclists available here

Well, it has been a while since our last update, and a strange while at that, with thousands of kilometers covered, though not many of them by bike…

After our meditation course and then family visiting, we got back in the saddle outside East London.  It had been a while since we had last biked, and we were ready to get back on the road and start moving again.  Sure we’d put on a few pounds since we were last in the saddle, but we had come down from Kenya, we had been on the road for a year, we could take anything a sissy country like South Africa could throw at us for sure!

Or so we thought before we reached the Transkei…  Crossing the Kei river, we entered one of the former ‘Bantustans’ created under apartheid to serve as pseudo-independent countries for the blacks – if they were all citizens of different countries, the reasoning went, then when they came to work for the whites they would need visas and work permits and could be more easily controlled.  Only South Africa ever officially acknowledged their independence though.

All of this is similar to American history of course, and having driven through Indian reservations in New Mexico and Colorado and Montana and South Dakota, I had some idea of what to expect – dispossessed native people are never resettled onto beautiful expanses of fertile land.  What I didn’t expect though was that the Transkei would be basically un-bikeable.

Not that there aren’t roads or shops or places to camp – just the endless endless hills!  There is not a stretch of five meters in the whole area that is not on some kind of slope, probably at close to 90°.  Along the coast this makes for some spectacular scenes, with waves breaking along stretches of remote beach and tidal pools mixing with the mouths of the dozens of rivers that cross the area.  Inland too we had some of the most beautiful campsites we have had all trip, a few nights with our tent pitched just on the edge of a ridge looking out over green valleys with more hills rising in every direction.

We inched our way along the first week of cycling though.  We pushed a lot, and were grateful to make it just 50km a day.  The hills combined with the summer heat left us dehydrated and fighting off heatstroke – we definitely weren’t ready for this when we left East London.  We camped at night at clinics and missions.

Every province in South Africa is like a separate country.  There was the desolate Northern Cape, the totally westernized Western Cape, and now the thoroughly African Eastern Cape: no more cattle fences lining the road, the houses were thatch-roofed homesteads, children were chasing our bikes along shouting “sweets!  sweets! sweets!” until we thought we’d go nuts.  Ahhh Africa, we’d missed it actually, and the Transkei felt like something of a homecoming.

Though this is still South Africa; elsewhere in Africa, if you stop along the side of a dirt road in a beautiful rural spot with a view over a green valley and sit to drink some water and rest your legs, passing cars will probably ignore you, or just stop to ask where you’re going or where you’re from.  Not so in South Africa.  In South Africa, passing cars stop to tell you you’re not safe.

“It’s not safe here!  What are you doing here?  This is a wild place, it’s not safe!”  was the greeting that interrupted our rest on several occasions, invariably coming from rich-looking drivers in brand new SUV’s and pickups.  We would look around ourselves after they drove off and wonder – maybe they’re right?  It sure doesn’t look dangerous though…  And that hill up ahead looks super steep…

Now, the subject of security and paranoia in South Africa could get me going on a ten page rant, and so I’ll try to be brief.  Anna and I are not total idiots.  No matter what you think of two people who quit their jobs to go live in a tent along the side of the road in Africa.  We’ve been cycling for over a year now without any problems, I’m from New York originally, Anna was a criminal lawyer in Brussels – we’re not completely naive on the subject of crime. 

And so, when we’re sitting on the side of the road in a scene so idyllic it looks like it’s cut from The Sound of Music and someone tells us we’re in danger, we just don’t see it…

We decided then to ask local people what they thought – is it dangerous here?

“Here?  No!”  They would invariably say, laughing at the idea before becoming serious and adding, “But South Africa is very dangerous, you really need to be careful everywhere else.  Here though, it’s safe.”

Again and again as if we were biking along under a bubble of safety through the Transkei, from shop-owners, from security guards, from taxi drivers or from women selling food along the side of the road: “South Africa is very dangerous – but here it’s safe.”

All the way until Coffee Bay, where we checked at the local hostel.  Asking for a quiet spot, we were directed to pitch our tent fifty meters away from the rest of the hostel, blocked from sight and sound by a stand of thick trees, on the opposite side abutting a dried out river bed with almost no barrier between us and groups of young men wandering back and forth all day trying to sell us drugs.  Camping along 125th street couldn’t have been less appealing than this spot.

Surely this, we thought, is dangerous!

“No no no,” we were told though when we asked at reception: “Here, it’s safe!”

Here it’s safe?  When we thought we were in The Sound of Music it was dangerous, but now that we’re in New Jack City it’s safe?

We moved our tent closer to the rest of the guests anyway.  So much for listening to the locals.

Anyway, suffice it to say that the more time we spend in this country, the less we understand it.

And then our cycling came to an end.  We rode out of town a few days later for what became the shortest day of our trip – 1.5 km outside town my back wheel derailed and after a spectacular slow-motion fall while climbing another vertical Transkei hill (with of course a small audience of people watching and laughing at me), we found the rear gears were wobbling on the wheel.  Nothing to it but to head to the nearest decent bike shop, in this case in Durban.  We tossed our bikes on a bus, bidding the Transkei a reluctant farewell.  It had been a beautiful stretch of riding, a whole new side of this incredibly complex country, and some of the best cycling we have had the whole trip.

It was a good time to head to Durban though – that night I started coming down with odd flu-like chills and a pounding headache.  Tick-bite fever was the diagnosis – my first mysterious African fever!  It felt like a rite of passage somehow, and we took it easy over the next few weeks as we crossed the country by bus to meet our friend Megan and then head to Lesotho to do some hiking and renew our South African visa.

Lesotho is a country which merits far more than two weeks’ visit.  The mountains are spectacular, reminding us of Mongolia or Central Asia.  The ubiquitous horses help too of course.  But ten days in the end was all we had.  With Megan shipped back to the US, we headed back to South Africa, taking minibus taxis to northern Kwa-Zulu Natal where we WOOFed for two weeks, milking cows, making cheese and butter, and launching an epic battle of wits with a band of pigs that just didn’t want to be fenced in.  The pigs won in the end, and were last seen happily eating Emu food as we left the farm to head back to Durban.

Which is where we are now, reunited once more with our bikes.  We spent Christmas with some other travelers and on the 27th we are taking one last bus – to Swaziland this time.  From there it will be back on the bikes for real, no more public transport, and hopefully no more fevers or broken wheels.

It has been almost four months now that we have been in South Africa, and it will be bittersweet to leave.  We have met some wonderful people here and have made many new friends.  South Africans of all colors may well qualify for the friendliest people in Africa (and that is really saying something).  Not a day went by that we weren’t offered assistance, even when we didn’t need it.  And once you get into people’s homes, there is a sense of hospitality that I would guess few countries in the world can match.

At the same time though, the fear, the racism, it wears on you after a while.  While many of the people we have met really do represent the “Rainbow Nation” image of post-Apartheid South Africa, going about their lives with no concern for skin color – there is still a shocking amount of fear and hatred  in the air on both sides of the racial divide.  Just the moment when you’re sure that South Africa is the most wonderful country in the world is invariably the moment when you meet one of those people.  You’ll be walking down the street as Anna was in Durban and an old white man out for his evening walk struck up a conversation with her and in less than a minute said “I know you’re a foreigner, you think all people should have equal rights and all that.  But the African man is different you see…”  and whoosh, all that love and kindness is a distant memory.

After four months, we’ve hit our limit I think.  It has been a great time here, we can see why this is the “Beloved Country,” but we need to move on.

And we have to move on in fact.  We’ve bought our plane tickets out of Africa – now just to push on up to Malawi, where we catch a plane back to Europe on March 6th before moving on to continue our biking in South America…

We wish everyone a happy new year, and thanks as usual for all your comments and support.  Feel free to sign up for our Google Group if you’d like to get an e-mail when we post – or become a fan of our page on Facebook (just search Permacyclists) if you want the occasional little update on our progress.

Posted in South Africa | Tagged , , , , | 8 Comments