The Namib (meaning "open space") Desert in Namibia

After Namibia, the London Underground took my sense of proportion, dragged it through the proverbial hedge backwards and then left it in a crumpled heap on an escalator. All while urging me to move right inside the carriages and to stand clear of the closing doors.

You see, Namibia has a population of 2 million and neighbouring Botswana has only 1.7.

London, however, lilts and lurches around the 10 million mark, (depending on the mood of the official on any given day) and its transport system herds 28 million people beneath the earth each year in order to move them from A to B.

Twenty-eight million.

The social rules are simple, but then, perhaps they have to be: don’t look, don’t talk, don’t stop. And for god’s sake, don’t get in the way.

Usually, I follow them. This time however, just fleetingly, I wanted to freeze that activity and focus on one person. One individual alone among the millions.

Alone Among Millions

The latest in a run of very cool competitions I’ve been told about lately – this one comes from Land Rover and Biosphere and the prize looks well worth the effort.

How to Enter

Send a one minute video clip of you doing something that shows that you have the passion to make a difference (suggested activities include “nursing sick animals back to health, doing charity fundraising or simply picking up litter from local streets.”) Unfortunately, you do then have to canvas people for votes but the good news is that the top 25 videos make it through to the final selection, so don’t be put off if your facebook friend list is small or non-existent.

What’s the catch?

UK residents only, I’m afraid and you have to be over 21. It’s probably also a good idea to make sure that you can make the dates for selection and the trip itself…and the deadline for entries is 23rd September.

Good luck!

Disclosure: Er, I don’t get anything from mentioning this on my blog!

Cologne Dazzles

They say that you never forget your first time – and for me that was in Seville. While strolling along in the unfiltered sunshine, sharp flashes of light caught my eye. This was it, this was what I had heard about: the bridge of locks, the bridge of hearts, a new trend that was somehow already a tradition.

For the uninitiated, lovers sign their names onto a padlock and then throw the key into the river below. Authorities subsequently remove the locks.

A few months later in Paris, I had my second taste.On the intimate Pont des Arts, in the world’s most romantic city, a string of metal locks shimmered from the railings.

Then I visited Cologne, where passion, not to mention, imagination runs wild.

Cologne doesn’t limit itself to padlocks. The Hohenzollernbrücke Bridge excels itself, not only in terms of the length of its name, but also in terms of declaring undying love.

Cologne Says It With Handcuffs

Hohenzollernbrücke has padlocks, alright. It also has handcuffs, tin cans, bicycle chains and padlock formations. Glitter, gold and gratuitous gemstone stickers. Wilting roses, weathered writing and rusting romance.

A modern blacksmith-of-love sits at one end of the bridge, carving initials into padlocks, while a rose-seller approaches from the opposite direction.

The Hohenzollernbrücke Bridge excels itself, not only in terms of the length of its name, but also in terms of declaring undying love. 

Perhaps things have got out of hand, especially given that Federico Moccia only invented the “tradition” a few years ago as a handy plot device for his novel and subsequent film Ho Voglia de Te.

The Padlock Bridge, Cologne

Creative Padlocks

Love overflows in Cologne...

Ah, well. True love conquers all, as they say.

Or does it? Perhaps I’m not alone in raising an eyebrow of cynicism at so much symbolism.

Stencilled onto the tarmac walkway lies the following message: “Love is only a four-letter word.”

...but not for everyone

I travelled to Cologne as a guest of the Eurostar Explorer team, although as usual, all opinions are my own. I have no relationship with any padlock sellers, engravers, florists or gemstone sticker salespeople, which is probably just as well.

This post on padlocks in Cologne has also joined the happy ranks of the Lonely Planet’s Blogsherpa carnival Love on the Road, hosted this time at Barefoot Inked. Head over there to read more traditions about love from around the world.

British Weather

In Britain, talking about the weather is an accepted, even expected, way to start, finish and sometimes fill a conversation. Every time it snows, the country grinds to a halt and the press fills its pages with scenes of gridlocked white. Every time the sun shines, people rush to parks and roll up their trousers and sleeves until they turn red. Both extremes are rare.

Instead, the weather in Britain lurches and stumbles through various shades of grey and flattened blue, with clouds, drizzle, fog and mizzle (a word that describes a cross between mist and drizzle in the north of England, which has plenty of both.) In this way, British weather provides citizens with enough small-talk to sustain a conversation for decades.

This year, Lloyds TSB has launched a competition to celebrate Britain’s crazy weather (perhaps as an explanation to outsiders as to why we talk about it so much.)

How to Enter

The British Weather Photographer of the Year is open to all UK residents (except for professional photographers) and is free to enter. First prize is £10 000 and the photographer with the most votes each week wins £100. Get snapping soon as the deadline is 30^th September.

Geese On Ice

You can upload as many photos as you like and the good news is that you can vote without registering a gazillion details in advance. Try it out now by voting for one of my pictures ;)

Or, if you don’t want to do that – just let me know in the comments box which photo you prefer.

Sponsored Post – See the full disclosure policy here.

A bee takes shelter just in time

Ice Swan

Sunset on Ice

Safari in the Okavango Delta

Despite the stillness of the water, there’s no sound of silence. Insects skim across the reeds with a soft buzz and woodpeckers tap against acacia trees. Birds chatters in all directions – yet the loudest by far are the doves.

Chu charra, chu charra.

“Work harder, work harder,” says Rodger, slipping a pole into the delta and easing us forward.

“Drink lager, drink lager,” says another guide, Amos, illustrating a different point of view.

From where I’m sitting, level with the water in a slender mokoro, I hear something else. Botswana, Botswana, Botswana.

The Okavango Delta

The Okavango Delta, Botswana

Eight hundred miles from the Atlantic and a thousand from the Indian Ocean, the Okavango Delta looks like a miniature version of the earth from the air, an expanded jigsaw of land swirls amid deep and spreading blue.  Its water seeps up through the soil, having landed as monsoon rain a thousand miles north in Angola. It’s long been protected, both by government intervention and because its soggy, swampy nature makes building roads here impossible.

To get this deep into the delta, we’ve flown from Maun in a four-seater Cessna, a tiny contraption  that trembled during the descent as though in awe of the expanse below. An elephant greeted us on the runway and warthogs scuttled past us in the camp.

Conservation in Botswana

Botswana takes its wildlife pretty seriously. Even on foot, guides can’t carry firearms for self-defence, only a gunpowder-laced contraption that resembles a syringe. When an elephant veers too close to the camp, a single empty gunshot rips through the vast sky.

Should an elephant charge, or a hippo rear up from the water, our survival depends on our behaviour, we are told. Stand still, stay quiet – and if told to run, try not to fall into an aardvark hole.

Not everyone is reassured.

An Elephant Greets Us on the Runway

“Why not take a gun with you?” asks one member of our camp. “If you killed something by accident, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“A lifetime in prison,” comes the reply.

There’s a rare moment of silence before we climb aboard.

Stand still, stay quiet – and try not to fall into an aardvark hole.

Mokoro on the Delta

Despite the danger, it’s hard to imagine a more peaceful mode of transport. A cross between a punt and a canoe, mokoros used to be the only way to travel around here. Previous generations hand-carved them from ebony and kigelia trees but had to wait for more than 100 years for the trunk to reach the right size. Since a wooden mokoro only has a five year lifespan, the arrival of a fibreglass version was greeted with about the same enthusiasm as the discovery of sliced bread.

Today, boats use small motors to churn along the main waterway to Maun, carrying people, food and beer. The mokoros, however, fashion their own way through the reed fields, the long grass spreading apart before them in a deferential rustle.

This off-piste navigation isn’t just for entertainment, though.

Giraffe on Safari

 “The only animal I fear,” says Rodger when I ask him, “is the hippopotamus. That is why we stay away from the main channel.”

“But,” I state the obvious. “We do need to cross it… eventually.”

Rodger sinks the pole into the delta again and water sloshes gently against the thin-walled mokoro.

 “I look for bubbles,” he says slowly. He grins. “And I drive fast!”

Chu-charra, chu-charra.

 The doves reach a crescendo as we glide past giraffe, baboons and impala, while Rodger keeps watch. My mind drifts to his interpretation of what the doves are saying.

Like the rhythm of the mokoro itself, his version soothes me.

More information on arranging a safari in Botswana’s Okavango Delta coming soon…

Okavango Delta Flowers

Birdsong & The Okavango Delta, Botswana

Mokoro Safari, Okavango Delta

Short Film Competition

Deadline September 3rd

My life has been a whirlwind of travel and change lately – but I’m lucky because it has been for good reasons.

Plenty of people, however, have to contend with travel and change in response to real whirlwinds and other environmental disasters and that’s the theme behind the Explore/HATCH Short Film Award.

The Explore/HATCH Short Film Award

Explore.org, a non-profit educational and inspirational multimedia organisation, is inviting film submissions that tell the story of one remarkable individual and how they have made a difference in the face of a natural catastrophe.

The Prize

The prize is a fully paid trip to the HATCHfest Bozeman festival (Sept 22 – 25, 2010) from anywhere in the world, plus a new Canon HD SLR camera.

How To Enter

Find the full submission guidelines here.

Good luck!

The Okavango Delta From Above

The world’s largest inland delta from the sky: the Okavango Delta in Botswana.

I’ll explain more when I return…

As the sun sets over the Okavango Delta...

The Okavango Delta is the world’s largest inland delta. Between reeds and palm trees, “the Delta” in Botswana nurtures crocodiles and herons, impala and elephants, locals and, for a while at least, me.

While wildlife is abundant, electricity is scarce. So, here’s a taste of what I’ll be blogging about in the weeks to come (and apologies for any lapse in cyber-etiquette in the meantime!)

Chunky British Traffic Lights

“Is it weird to be back?”

I hear that a lot each time I return to this jigsaw-shaped island that floats west of mainland Europe. The first answer that springs to mind is “well, yes…and no.”

Since that makes for a spectacularly boring blog post (not to mention conversation), I thought I’d pay my homeland of Britain a little more attention and write about something I have only noticed since I started travelling so much:

Britain is Chunky

Britain is chunky.

Chunky British Signposts

Chunky, not as a euphemism for fat, but as an expression for sturdy, bold and substantial. Britain is the Yorkie chocolate bar of countries. If France and Spain have a tendency for finesse and fiesta, then Britain’s street furniture (don’t laugh, that’s what it’s called) says “no fuss, please.”

Solid red post boxes, block letters on signposts, road markings so thick they could double as a new form of Braille. Huge angular 50p pieces, police helmets like church bells and those cubes in Branston Pickle.

Just imagine a pint of real ale next to a flute of champagne and you’ll understand what I mean.

Chunky British Post Box

So, is it weird to come back? No, not weird. Just chunky.

Spanish Traffic Lights - A Casual Approach

Petrol Art - A Close-Up

Against a passionfruit and pomegranate backdrop, black swirls created a face that grinned like a friendly version of Alice’s Cheshire cat. The picture hung in my hotel room at Mallorca’s Hotel Horizonte, a wild splash of colour in an otherwise neutral place.

As it turned out, this was Petrol Art, a creative enterprise distilled from the desire to convert environmental damage into something more worthwhile. I caught up with the painting’s creator, Jimmy Pons, and asked him to tell me all about it.

“I started about 20 years ago,” he told me. “And I learned by practising, learning, trying.”

Jimmy Pons - Petrol Art

To make the paint, Jimmy collects lumps of black petrol sludge (or “tar biscuits” as he more optimistically describes them) from the leftovers that wash up on the shores of his native Spain. After soaking for several hours, the tough material softens to form a vivid, dramatic artistic material.

Such strong black lines could easily display horror or focus on destruction, yet by casting his strokes over rainbow canvases, Pons obviously takes a positive approach.

He’s a man who smiles a lot, with tanned skin and an age that’s hard to pin down.

“This is some of the work we’ve done with kids,” he says, leading me through a series of YouTube videos and Flickr photo collections, the first hint of his main occupation as an expert in social media.

“Now we have a series of BlogRooms,” he tells me, showing me a photo of the room that I stayed in.

Petrol Art in the "BlogRoom" at Hotel Horizonte

This is the sort of thing I feel I should know already, but don’t. “What on earth is a BlogRoom?”

“A hotel must provide free wifi within the room and donate 200 Euros each year to a charity that cleans up environmental damage,” Pons explains. “We now have Petrol Art on display in five different hotels across Spain, from Mallorca to Asturias.”

It sounds like the perfect project for this enthusiastic man from Menorca: travel, art and saving the world, mixed in with a healthy dose of social media.

“Is there any danger that you’ll run out of materials?” I ask.

“Walking around Spain?” he says. “Sadly, not.”