Beijing, China, March 2016

Homesick

“Homesick…cuz I no longer know…where home is…”

Fantastic – switching on a random playlist, this is exactly the song to lift me up, as I am lying on the bed in a hotel room like a million others, somewhere in a city in China.

I vaguely remember that song and the feeling of melancholy, right in the heart, that it used to cause me at some point….and trying to see through the mist in my memory – when was that? I guess I have just been away from home and anything familiar one too many times, I can’t remember when the realization that “I no longer know where home is” still pinched in a way that it hurt noticeably. Now, that realization is just a faint echo of a pain that has lost its sharpness. I am reaching a point where I stop wondering where home is.

Kings of Convenience - "Homesick"

Connected

It is rare to meet someone from North Korea – one of the reasons why I was curious about this workshop in Beijing, to which a North Korean delegation had been invited. Amongst them was a young woman, around my age. I thought about her a lot throughout the week. What is it like to be her, in a country where people get brainwashed from birth on, and have little contact with the outside world? Was this her first time abroad? What went on in her mind, and to what extent did the exposure to more “international”, more liberal ideas and concepts in the workshop trigger new, forbidden thoughts? Here we were together in that hotel for a few days, her and I, our paths briefly crossing, where our lives, our opportunities, our aspirations and thoughts so far must have been vastly different.

I would have done a lot for a chance to connect with her, but it was hard to find an opportunity. At the beginning of the week, the 6 North Koreans moved around as a solid block, and quickly disappeared after each meal. They seemed to never smile. On the last evening, however, they had apparently warmed up a bit. I saw the young woman standing in the lobby. She said something to her colleagues, raised her arms as if to reach for something, smiling. That image will stay in mind.

The morning after the workshop, I entered the hotel and met the North Koreans one more time, as they were about to head to the airport. The young woman and I exchanged a few sentences; she thanked me for my role in the workshop – a connection, even if a brief one, in the end.

 

Venice, Italy, October 2015

Una notte a Venezia

Waking up in the dim light of the hotel room, with the sun being blocked by the heavy velvet curtains, the memories of last night come back. Are they memories, or was it a dream? Looking back, it feels unreal, like a Cinderella kind of story.

We found it amusing to dress up in evening gowns and high heels, and like teenagers on prom night, kept having our picture taken in the hotel lobby by the guys at the reception – who clearly found US amusing.

We took a water taxi down the Canale Grande, with a bright round moon reflecting on the water, and the illuminated palazzos passing by left and right. Who can resist the enchanting charms of Venice, this unique blend of culture, romance and decay. At night, a tad of magic gets thrown into the mix. Our destination was (as the taxi boat driver told us) nothing less illustrious than the city’s finest palace.

Well, when a superyacht shipyard hosts a gala dinner, they do it in style. I had to keep reminding myself just how I, representing a conservation organization, had ended up as a special guest in this circle, with the mayor of the city and who knows what other important people. It was one of these moments in life that you look at from the outside, even while you experience it, shaking your head with a slightly bemused, disbelieving smile.

Walking into the bluely lit dining hall, with real candles on the chandeliers, I am certain I forgot my countenance for a moment and just stood with my mouth open. The 9-course dinner, prepared by a Michelin star chef, was themed around “the sea”, and each of the minuscule dishes had a patron. I introduced “my” dish, a fish named “occiata” (eye), by saying that we all, as we use the ocean in whichever way, need to jointly keep an eye on the sea to protect it. There you go for the conservation message, delivered within 30 seconds, to not keep the esteemed guests away from their conversation for too long.

As if the string quartet hadn’t been enough, an opera singer entertained us during the second part of the dinner. 

I quickly gave up trying to figure out which of the wines served in the various crystal glasses in front of me (right next to the hand written name tag) was supposed to be consumed with which dish. I have an instinctive adversity against wasting food (and beverages), so as the waiters kept refilling my glasses, I kept trying to empty them. Which just served to make the evening appear all the more magical.

Even after midnight, the boat to bring us home hadn’t turned into a pumpkin. So reconsidering, I’m pretty sure all this really did happen. Fortunately. I get up, open the curtains, and look out onto the sun-lit piazza. 

 

Tanzania, September 2015

Waiting is part of the Tanzania experience.

Right now, we wait for either the tractor to come, the sun to dry up the soil, or some other solution to our situation to magically appear. It doesn’t rain during the dry season….normally. Well, this morning, it did, and half an hour of showers was enough to turn the “all weather road” through the park into a mess of mud and water. Sure enough, our car got stuck, just as others did.

Two days ago, we waited for Peter, our Tanzanian colleague, to show up, or at least call. The whole day. When Peter finally made it to the entrance gate of the park, darkness had fallen. No one is allowed to enter the park after dark. However, the people at the gate know him, and were willing to let him pass, but not without authorization from higher up. So they made a few phone calls. Meanwhile, Peter waited for a decision – for 1 ½ hours. And we waited for Peter. Who didn’t come that night – the decision had been negative.

Walking around the village during the late afternoon, I observe a harmonious feeding community: goats, baboons and warthogs all peacefully coexisting, finding a meal in the light of the low-standing sun.

Late afternoons are the best time in the village anyway. The heat of the day is over, people have finished the day’s chores, and lie on woven mats in front of their houses, weaving ropes from leaves, chatting with each other, or just looking into the air.

More about my Tanzania experience on the IUCN website and Kesho Trust website (thank you Kesho Trust!).