I AM sitting in my hot Brisbane office dressed in a leopard-print summer dress, reflecting on my life as a travel writer in 2016. Let’s not beat around the boiling bush, it was always going to be a quirky one after I kicked off the year in January at Gwinganna Lifestyle Retreat on the Gold Coast where I spent an hour in a one-on-one mediation session with a horse, of course.
Yes, Jack, the 22-year-old horse, was quite the listener and as it turned out, I was a good learner, discovering more about myself in that paddock than years of therapists have been to unravel. Working with my breath, and the fact horses are instinctive creatures, I was able to go from having Jack walk away from me (apparently I hate rejection) to have Jack trotting around the ring by the end of the session, based purely on my inner calm and emotions. He even stopped on cue when I exhaled. In that one crowded hour I learned I am prone to being a bit of a bull at a gate, and expecting others to join me on my crazy schemes, without first checking that they’re on board. Jack, you taught me a lot.
In February, and in the name of another story, I plunged into the warm waters off Lord Howe Island for Ocean Swim Week with World Ironman Champion Ali Day and Pinetrees Lodge. I’d never swum out in the open ocean before and learned that it was far more different and difficult to the university pool in which I try to carve up a daily 1km. Swimming among reef sharks and over fantastic coral, I also learned I could overcome sea sickness in rough swells and complete an impressive 2-3km a day. I also learned I’m incredibly stubborn once I push through an initial lack of confidence. Salty and stubborn. And I wonder why I’m single.
March saw me in Fiji, working with the fine folk at the Outrigger Fiji Resort and writing stories about some innovative and compassionate community projects in which they are involved, building new kindergartens and maternity wards. That kindy opened last week and it was heartening to know I was there at that pivotal point in history with people who have so little, but find so much reason for joy. Want perspective on your life? Head to the South Pacific. Sit under a coconut tree and pull your head out of your proverbial. It will change you, I promise.
In April, I was in Germany on a beer tour, also in the name of research, and if you think I had to train for Ocean Swim Week, it’s like I was born for Beer Week. And to think successive maths teachers over the years said I would never amount to anything. Add to that a dash of Mother Nature where I summited Germany’s highest mountain…and by summit I mean taking a gondola to the top and promptly order a beer and goulash. Because I’m hard-core. I explored my animal instinct here by taking to Bavarian Tinder and I was quite the hit in Germany. Not that I had time to actually meet any of my Bavarian boyfriends, but I got the distinct impression they were different to Brisbane boys and not once did anyone send me a photo of their penis. #winning
May turned out to be a journey of a different kind where I had some long-awaited tests and surgery for health symptoms that killed a fellow travel writer last year. While my tests turned out fine, the surgery laid me up for four weeks in incredible pain, and it was a time to reflect and go inwards, something I’m not particularly good at. But when Mother Nature speaks, sometimes you have to listen and it was a good life lesson. I did have a moment of truth while awaiting those test results, questioning myself on whether I was living the life I wanted. And the answer was yes. By June, when I was back on the road in Vienna and Monaco, exploring Royal and Imperial Luxury Europe, I was thrilled. I may have even danced around the house just prior to leaving to Willie Nelson’s On The Road Again. Because I have an excellent taste in music.
In July, I braved a chilly Toowoomba trip to explore the city’s sensational street art. And it blew my socks off. Not literally, as that would have been unpleasant in the cold, but metaphorically. I also took my first trip to Darwin and again, was thrilled by the Northern Territory capital with its outdoor cinemas, national parks, and great dining and accommodation offerings. This is a city which celebrates its sunsets, with hundreds of residents and tourists flocking to the beach to watch the sun plunge into the ocean and that, in itself, was a magical moment. A destination which sells tickets to its annual festival out of an original caravan used to house homeless people after 1974’s Cyclone Tracy? You’ve gotta love that.
August saw me at Sabi Sabi Private Game Lodge in South Africa on a luxury safari and yes, I was lucky to experience the Big 5, plus all the rest. Mother Africa and her beautiful people stole a piece of my heart and I came home reeling from Jo’Burg’s street art to Robben Island where the mighty Mandela spent 18 years of his 27 year jail term. There’s usually about one month of the year where I try to stop, pause, reflect and recharge and it was September this year, which also turned out to be my birthday month, and what a delight it was to be a normal person again, catching up with friends, going to yoga classes, and just “sitting with myself” as we say in meditation.
In October, I was out on the road again, on my longest trip of the year to Canada where I started in Vancouver, sitting in a traditional indigenous sweat lodge with an elder, talking to our ancestors. But the absolute highlight of that three-week journey was the opportunity to go on a walking safari with the polar bears with Churchill Wild. I discovered that the Lord of the Arctic was to be respected, not feared, and that if we don’t manage the way we treat the planet, polar bears may be relegated to the history books.
The conservation theme continued into last month, November, when I jumped on a plane to the Maldives Outrigger Konotta Resort and spent a fascinating few days talking with a marine biologist who is trying to resurrect the reef with innovative coral planting strategies. On a monsoonal Monday I sat on the edge of a jetty weaving coral necklaces from coconut rope that would later be implanted on the reef, in a moment I will always remember when my fingers are no longer nimble and I’m too old to travel. From the Arctic, where the ice is melting, to the Indian Ocean, which is becoming too warm, I had the immense privilege of experiencing the impacts of Climate Change first hand.
Which brings me to December. In two days I’ll be boarding a plane for my last travel writing assignment of the year. And yes, this trip has another animal theme. I’ll be boarding a sailing boat and exploring beyond Bali to the islands around Indonesia, before we arrive at the land of the komodo dragons. Along the way we’ll be snorkelling with manta rays and sharks. And I cannot wait. Yes, it’s been a big year, and moments of great challenge, times when you are so jetlagged you want to weep, a deep-seated loneliness from long weeks out on the road, and a disconnect from normal life. I didn’t find the love of my life, but I know he’s out there. And when I’m out in the world, doing what I love best, hunting and gathering stories, there’s no better feeling on the planet. I wish you a Happy Christmas and may 2017 be everything you dreamed of and more.
The Global Goddess would like to thank all of the tourism and travel operators, local communities, kind random strangers, PR people, publishers, editors and fellow writers, who joined her on the incredible journey that was 2016. See you out there in 2017.
THERE’S a running joke among professional travel writers that our luggage has journeyed to more destinations than we have, referring, of course, to one of our biggest bug bears: lost baggage. At the risk of jinxing future trips, I can happily say I have never lost any luggage in 30 years of trekking the globe. Nor, as it turns out on last week’s trip to the Maldives, have ever I lost a giant unicorn. Unlike my fellow guests.
Call me crazy, but when I travel, I like to carry a suitcase, unlike the numerous guests I encountered on my trip to the beautiful Outrigger Konotta Maldives Resort, in the middle of the Indian Ocean. While I was travelling with a brand new Paklite Slide Safe case, it had seemingly occurred to not one, but many of my fellow adult companions at this remote locale, to bring a giant inflatable pool toy, the likes of which I have never encountered before…and hope to never again.
Yes, there were giant unicorns, swans and my all-time favourite, the duck. And again, call me cray cray, but while I was snorkelling the beautiful waters off of this luxury resort, my fellow travel companions were endlessly wandering this gorgeous green island, gargantuan duck tucked under armpits, in search of the perfect selfie shot. While I was out with the island’s marine biologist replanting coral on the at-threat reef, I got to experience the duck fly past me, out into the wild, blue yonder, no doubt just waiting to pop, and strangle a turtle or a dolphin.
Sitting under a palm tree one day, contemplating the duck, got me thinking about cultural differences and the emotional baggage we pack when we travel. One person’s Climate Change crime is another person’s holiday prop. And like the planet itself, I’m sure the balance for tourism operators and resorts is a precarious beast indeed. And it is something I am exploring further in a travel story for one of my mainstream outlets, so, instead, I will focus on the actual baggage I packed on this trip, in this case, the new luggage.
Paklite is an Australian company, designed by Australians for Australians and the new Slide Safe comes complete with TSA-approved locks to help keep intruders out and souvenirs in. This soft-sided luggage boasts a twin-zip feature on all main compartments to prevent thieves from piercing the zip and stealing belongings, although this feature can prove confusing at times when you simply wish to open your luggage. Unlike other luggage, it is just one cavernous compartment inside, rather than the more contemporary two-sided flip bags, a feature I found a little old-fashioned, although handy for carrying long snorkelling gear. There was also no pouch in which to slip a business card or address details.
Major pluses include the fact it’s super lightweight and comes which detachable wheels (which move in all directions) making damaged luggage wheels a thing of the past. The cabin-size model features Paklite’s RFID blocking pocket to prevent identity fraud by blocking your identity from unlawful scanning devices while travelling the globe. If you are looking for a light, simple suitcase with super security, Paklite could be for you.
And yes, while other guests were photographing giant inflatable toys, I was wandering around the island taking photos of a suitcase, so who am I to talk?
The Global Goddess travelled as a guest of the Outrigger Konotta Maldives Resort – http://www.outrigger.com/hotels-resorts/maldives/konotta-island/outrigger-konotta-maldives-resort
The Slide Safe case was a gift from Paklite http://www.paklite.com.au The model I used cost $339 and comes in Deep Purple, Desert Storm and Black.
BRISK, crisp days out on the remote Arctic tundra can lead to some funny conversations and so it came to be one afternoon that we were watching the polar bears and pontificating about their defining features. While it’s hard to identify polar bears from each other in general (they are all white with few markings), males tend to be bigger with square heads, while females have softer, more refined features. One thing turned into another and before long we were talking about dating, and I coined the phrase Tundra Tinder. Kind of like real-life Tinder, but far more interesting. For your viewing pleasure, I present the following candidates…
BIG OLD BEAR
Big Old Bear weighs about 400kg and is 9 years old. He likes to hang around Seal River Lodge and flop about in the tundra grass, fully aware you are checking him out. But Big Old Bear is also a bit of a show off, and one day, putting himself between the lodge and our group, he decided to come for a wander our way. In fact, Big Old Bear got within 10 metres of our group, and it was only when Churchill Wild guides Derek and Josh started to negotiate with him that he decided to keep walking. He then made a new day bed for himself and promptly plonked his considerable bulk down into it. The only difference between Big Old Bear and a Brisbane boy on Tinder is that you can actually negotiate with Big Old Bear.
Arctic Hare is a bit of stalker, he liked to hang outside my lodge bedroom window at night, looking a little like the Easter Bunny. By day, he’s a bit elusive, hiding behind rocks, cocking his ears for a brief photo, before hopping off into the distance. A bit of a shady character who would probably agree to going out with you to dinner, but disappear when the bill arrived.
Beautiful Girl sported all of the traits of a pretty female bear. And she was far less showy than Big Old Bear. We found her on the other side of the lodge, peacefully stretching and flopping. It’s here I started to think about polar bear yoga poses that I can deploy back home. Beautiful Girl was happy for us to stare at her for hours, which is precisely what we did, and it was one of the most peaceful moments of my life. A low-maintenance date if ever I saw one.
Baby Girl was possibly my favourite of the bears we saw during our stay. She was also the cutest. Only about 4 years old, Baby Girl liked to walk straight down the gravel driveway leading to the lodge, and right up to the fence which kept us humans in. Yes, she adored her human zoo and had a habit of trying to sniff each of us individually, stare right down the camera lens, and then happily walk off. If you ever felt like you could hug a polar bear (not recommended) this was that moment. So beautiful was Baby Girl, that several of us just stood at the fence and cried in her presence. Saving herself for a male bear who deserves her.
Ok. So not all of the Tundra Tinder action revolved around animals. Josh, 19, from Alberta, was one of our guides. And the photos don’t quite show it here, but Josh had the most awesome head of hair I’ve ever seen on a man, coupled with a great personality. Think Brad Pitt’s sandy, foppish hair meets Hugh Jackman’s soul. As a reformed cougar, it was quite the challenge not to leap onto Josh’s head, the situation being somewhat similar to placing a 1969 Grange in front of a recovering alcoholic. But this trip was not about felines, it was about polar bears, and I desisted. I can tell you, young women of Australia, that Josh is a fine specimen indeed, and either you get yourselves up to Seal River Lodge or you invite him to our fair land. The good news is I did manage to pluck a few hairs from his head as I hugged him goodbye, and I am currently cloning him in my downstairs laundry. And yes, I am taking Christmas orders.
The Global Goddess travelled to Canada as a guest of Destination Canada (www.keepexploring.com.au) and stayed at Seal River Lodge with Churchill Wild Safaris (www.churchillwild.com)
FACT: Canadians are the most polite people on the planet. How do I know this? Having spent three weeks in this beautiful land recently, I can honestly say I have never encountered a more genuine, friendly bunch of humans anywhere in my world travels. Sure, Australians are reasonably happy-go-lucky, but Canadians take it to a whole new level, apologising to YOU if you are clumsy enough to bump into them, which I did both literally and metaphorically on many occasions. Here’s a great bunch I bumped into during October.
Erika Vader (just like Darth Vader, she told me) is a lovely, young Shishalh Nation woman, who took me on a Talking Trees Tour of Vancouver’s iconic Stanley Park. Erika is one of a number of First Nations Canadians who are passionate about preserving their culture and on this tour she explains the Indigenous significance of animals and trees.
From Vancouver I travelled to Toronto, where I stayed in The Thompson Hotel. Attached to the hotel was a diner, where I met Dana. Dana in the diner was a delight. Dana and I had an enlightening conversation talking about the advantages and disadvantages of travelling the world from the perspective of a black woman, and that of a white woman. Before I left, I told Dana I was flying to Winnipeg that day. She packed me a BLT to have for lunch on the plane. Yes, Canadians really do this sort of thing.
I spent a brief night in Winnipeg getting kitted out in polar gear, before I flew to Churchill and onwards to Seal River Lodge to walk with the polar bears. Meet my Churchill Wild guides Derek and Josh, who are better known as the “polar bear whisperers”. Derek and Josh were a bit like Superman. At night, by the fire sipping wine and talking about bears and life, they were just mild-mannered Clark Kent types. But put on that polar gear and strap on a rifle, and boom, Superman. Or, in this case, Batman and Robin. If you’ve never seen two men negotiate with a 400kg male bear who is getting a bit too close to tourists, then this is the trip for you. (Is it getting hot in here?)
Just when I thought I was going to explode from the testosterone out on the Arctic tundra, I flew to Quebec, where I met Eric. Staying in a monastery is not where you’d expect to bump into “the most handsome man in Quebec” but as we know, the good Lord works in mysterious ways. Eric works as a therapist at La Monastere des Augustines, and before I met him, was told by staff that he was a good-looking cat. I’ll be the judge of that, I thought. But yep, it appears the sacred sisters of the monastery and I share the same tastes. Not only is Eric impossibly handsome, he’s also got a good heart. When he’s not at the monastery giving reflexology treatments to tired travellers such as myself (yes, he touched my feet!), he works with dying patients in the adjacent hospital for whom morphine no longer relieves their pain. Yes, I think I met the world’s most perfect man. And it’s no surprise, as Canada is that kind of place. Kinda like Australia, but with a whole lot more snow. And polar bears. And polar bear whisperers. Did I mention the whisperers?
The Global Goddess travelled to Canada as a guest of Destination Canada (www.keepexploring.com.au)
To check out more of my Canada pics, including loads of incredible street art in Toronto, head to my Instagram @aglobalgoddess
THE autumn leaves are turning from emerald green to gold and a rust red, before they reluctantly concede to the season and litter the Vancouver streets like confetti. Pause and take a deep breath and the scent of pine needles hangs in the air, redolent of crisp, fresh laundry on the line. Canadians grow melancholy at this time of year for it means winter is on its way, but visitors adore this colourful contrast.
Sitting in an Indigenous sweat lodge on the rooftop of a Vancouver hotel was never part of my plan. But that’s one of the great beauties of travel. The serendipity. And so, I find myself on a crisp Vancouver afternoon undertaking a traditional healing with Aboriginal elder Old Hands at Skwachays Lodge in which I am staying.
Old Hands is stoking the coals which will be used in my healing when I bump into him on the rooftop. I ask him what I’m about to encounter in this teepee-like structure on the roof.
“We start off with spirit calling and ask our ancestors to come and join us. We tell them we need some help. And then we ask the creator to give us a good life,” he says.
“There are four songs. We are acknowledging that we are a part of everything and everything is a part of us.
“The second round is a prayer round. Make sure you ask for what you need, not what you want because what we want gets us into trouble. The third round is a healing round to detox all the junk that is in our body. We are going to ask the creator to repair any damage to ourselves that we don’t know about. And the fourth round is a thank you round.”
Still unsure of what to expect, Old Hands tells me that some people cry during the ceremony.
“It’s just a way of letting out what’s bothering you. I get guys I work with in prisons who are all tough and stuff and then the next thing they are crying,” he says.
“I work with people in hospices who are getting ready to cross over and the one thing they are afraid of is that no one will remember them. I work with people who are fighting their addictions.”
The one thing of which Old Hands is certain, is the healing power of the sweat lodge, a gift that has been passed down to him from five generations of medicine men.
“I’ve been sweating every weekend since I was 13 and I haven’t been sick since. This is where we heal,” he says.
“I had a friend with cancer who was told he had six months to live. He came for a sweat and the spirits said he needed to do four sweats back-to-back. That was 17 years ago and he’s still alive.
“Tomorrow you will feel like you can run to Winnipeg and the next day you will feel even better. It goes on for about four days.”
We start with a smudge ceremony where we are told to toss the smoke of a burning sage bush over our body. Then we enter the sweat lodge, where it’s smoking hot and completely dark.
“We see the clearest when we are in the dark,” Old Hands says.
As the only woman inside the teepee, I am tasked with sprinkling a pinch of sage on the hot rocks, which sparkle with light. Another man in the tent softly beats a drum while Old Hans calls our ancestors.
“We are taught to be weak minded but our bodies can take a lot of punishment. It’s our minds that give up first,” Old Hands says.
“It just takes something to wake us up. Grandpa used to say ‘the turtle goes no where until he sticks his neck out’. We are all eagles being taught to be chickens. Our lives aren’t happy because we aren’t soaring. When we realise we can soar, our lives change.”
It’s so hot and dark in the tent that I almost surrender to panic, but I sit with myself and practice deep yoga breaths, willing my ancestors to give me the life answers I seek.
After the first healing round, Old Hands announces that the ancestors have told him to give me his drum to keep and that I will know what I need it for when the occasion arises. We complete the final three rounds. I sit in the dark, willing my ancestors to listen to me.
The healing ends and Old Hands asks me whether I am available to meet the women of his band tomorrow, saying the “female energy” would be good for me, but I am flying to Toronto for another story. He nods, tells me to look out of the plane window as I’m flying, saying he’ll send me a message.
The next day I spend the four-hour journey glancing from the plane, expecting to see a bird, and just as I’m about to give up, the thick clouds part and form the precise shape of a polar bear walking.
I haven’t told Old Hands that after Toronto I’m heading to Churchill on a polar bear walking safari and I shake my head, smiling wryly. When I get to my hotel room, I research the spiritual meaning of polar bears. It means rebirth and courage.
I think back to something Old Hands told me: “You’re here to do a story but your ancestors didn’t bring you to Canada just for a story. We were meant to meet.”
The ancient drum beat of my ancestors lives on.
The Global Goddess travelled to Canada as a guest of Destination Canada (www.keepexploring.com.au) For those who have wondered, the drum given to me by Old Hands travelled safely with me across Canada, and despite concerns the elk skin wouldn’t make it through Australia’s strict biosecurity laws, passed effortlessly into the country. The ancestors would approve.
GREETINGS from Canada, where I’m heading tomorrow on my next travel writing assignment. I’ve been a little quiet on these pages lately, catching up from my last big trip to South Africa, which, like all of the best travels, stole a piece of my heart. I’ve been writing stories, saying goodbye to winter in Australia, and coming out of hibernation to spring clean my mind, body and soul. I’ve been stretching my mind in meditation classes, my body in yoga, and feeding my soul through plenty of long walks along the Brisbane River. And now, it’s time to hit the road again. I’ll be travelling to Vancouver, Toronto, Winnipeg, Churchill, Montreal and Quebec. And, as this picture suggests, I’ll be going on a polar bear walking safari with Churchill Wild in a remote, pristine arctic location. I’ll be back on these pages soon, with plenty of travel tales, and I’m sure, one or two stories about scaring both man and beast in the Northern Hemisphere. Wish me luck!
“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it…The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” Nelson Mandela
A FLOCK of seagulls soars overhead Robben Island and if I unleash my imagination, so too, do the free spirits of former political prisoners such as Nelson Mandela. It’s my last day in South Africa and I’ve caught the ferry from Cape Town across to this tiny sliver of land to pay homage to the former South African president who served 18 years of his 27 year prison sentence here. It’s a rocky old ride out on the ferry across Table Bay, a day for staring out to the horizon with steely focus, but nothing compared to the journey Mandela made from prisoner to president.
Just like the gulls, swarms of tourists flock here in a bid to understand what Mandela and many like him experienced during South Africa’s apartheid years. On the dock, where the smell of boat diesel mixes with the pungent scent of fish, a sign declares “Freedom Cannot Be Manacled”. But most tourists are too busy rushing past to the waiting buses to notice. They’re intent on getting to the jail and meeting Mandela’s ghost.
Today’s guide Jama is a former political prisoner who entered the prison in 1977, when group cells housed 30 people who slept on mats. It wasn’t until 1978 that the Red Cross supplied prisoners with crude bunk beds, their personal belongings bundled into timber boxes nearby. Those who were considered leaders, such as Mandela, were given single cells, and the scrum of tourists lines up to peek into this tiny space which once housed the great man. I’m waiting for some sort of epiphany, as if Mandela’s spirit will magically part the crowds with words of wisdom. But I feel nothing but annoyed. There’s too many tourists and it seems to make a mockery of history.
Originally an island for lepers, Jama tells us there was no hot water in the prison until 1973, and back in the 1960s, the prison would mix both political and criminal inmates. The type, and portions of food you ate depended on the colour of your skin. I don’t have to imagine living in world in which apartheid existed, as it existed right up until 1994. I was 24 when it officially ended, but its legacy lives on. Speak to any South African cab driver and you’ll hear tales of how “coloured” people still live in the in-between world. And how corruption is rife under current President Jacob Zuma.
This corruption has a trickle-down effect, and it’s one I experience on my drive from Sabi Sabi Private Game Reserve back into Johannesburg when I am stopped by a police officer who claims I haven’t obeyed a non-existent stop sign. At first, the officer says he is going to fine me $75, but then relents, saying the fine is “too much”. In the next breath he asks me how much it will take for me to “show my appreciation” for his leniency. Unfortunately, for this corrupt cop, I’ve never been in this situation before, so I do nothing. I just sit there, contemplating both my next move and his in this crazy chess game. Eventually he tires of the charade and sends me on my way. South Africans say you haven’t experienced Africa until you’ve been asked to bribe a cop, so I guess I’ve now seen Africa.
Back on Robben Island, the last group of political prisoners walked out of the gate in 1991, and in 1996 it was closed as a jail completely. We take a bus tour of the island where prisoners such as Mandela were forced to work on the lime quarry. Many ended up working there for 13.5 years and left with illnesses associated with the lime dust. In 1995 former prisoners including Mandela returned to the island and placed a pile of stones to commemorate the back-breaking work they endured. Mandela picked up shovel and demonstrated to the media how they made the lime.
“The man rose from the dust of the quarry. He rose from the cell of Robben Island,” our tour guide says.
“Where they started to dig the lime stone represents the triumph of the human spirit.”
I’m still contemplating both the strength and weakness of the human spirit when we make our last stop for the day, at a vantage point looking back across the ocean towards Cape Town. Our bus driver tells us we have only five minutes and advises us to return to our original seats to “avoid fights”. When I board the bus, there’s a woman sitting in my seat and I politely ask her to move, repeating the bus driver’s earlier words. But as she stands to leave, her hands full of backpack and camera gear, I notice she has left her hat on the seat. So I simply place it on her head, saying “you’ve forgotten your hat”. What happens next is incomprehensible. Out of the blue her husband comes flying down the aisle in a rage: “What a bitch you are, you put her hat on her head,” he spits at me. His actions are so at odds with the spirit of this day, and my intent, that I am stunned and I don’t reply. For the second time on my South African trip I simply don’t know what to do, and he turns on his heel, but I suspect we’re not done yet.
Back on the road our tour guide speaks again and talks about humanity before depositing us at the boat. I am waiting back on the dock for a friend just as the angry man walks past me again. “There’s that bitch,” he hisses at me. I try to explain my actions but they are lost in his storm of anger, his fury spiralling out towards the ocean like a giant storm cloud. I think about his words all the way back to Cape Town. And about man’s inhumanity to man. The kind that imprisons one man for 27 years because of his belief that all people should be treated equally. Of corrupt cops and angry men. It was Mandela who once said: “No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.” And this thought becomes my travelling companion all the way back to Australia.
The Global Goddess stayed in Cape Town with the assistance of 318 Africa at the elegant More Quarters. http://www.318africa.com.au; http://www.morequarters.co.za