retinian burnt - - words from the world

Friday 29 August 2008

the workers of sulphur

By dorian on Friday 29 August 2008, 23:01 - RTW2-Indonesia

End of our Balinese adventure, most of the family goes back to France to enjoy the last days of summer on the French Riviera. I move on to Java with my parents. A short journey by bemo up to Gilimanuk before getting on the ferry which links the island of Java in 45 minutes. Transition from an island to another, radical change of culture.
Our first stage will be the Kawah Ijen, a volcano whose crater shelters an emerald-hued lake. This volcano was made famous by Nicolas Hulot and the Kraft couple for its mind-boggling colours and the sensation that the man is not welcome in the heart of this mountain.

The Kawah Ijen is the main extraction area of the Indonesian sulphur. The deposit of this yellowish substance is located inside the crater itself. Wrapped by a stifling sulphurous cloud, we walk downhill to meet it. On the way, no machine, just few men carrying 2 baskets they balance on one of their shoulders. An appalling work that begins a little bit further downhill, near the emerald lake. Pipes provide steam which liquefies the sulphur. The orangy juice finishes to solidify in a yellow and compact slab. A worker breaks off the ground to get some transportable fragments he loads into the basket. A mere dirty piece of linen covers his nose and mouth by way of respiratory protection. Around the sulphurous mound, a suffocating, whitish vapour gives an otherworldly feeling. Each porter loads his parcel and starts a slow ascent of the crater then a walking downhill. The suffering distorts their faces, the disastrous effects of the day-after-day inhaled gas can be heard in the hoarse cough of these courageous workers. More than 2 hours to bring back the booty down of the volcano. Each hero carries a minimum of 80 kilos, twice a day. The kilo is sold 400 Rupiah which represents a one-Euro gain for 35 kilos brought down! The modern times of hard labour. Scant consolation, the scenery is a visual pleasure. Supernatural colours. A dense and mythical smoke which, as a jewel case, hides the beauty of its bowels. An inhospitable land where the man hasn't his place but the economical realities drive the neediest to enlist in the volcanic adventure. And with 80 kilos on a deformed shoulder by so many journeys, they are genuine heroes in my opinion. And each time I'll eat some granulated sugar, I'll think about these smiling faces the life hasn't blessed because among its uses, the sulphur serves to refine the sugar.

Sunday 22 June 2008

The surrealist painting of the Sossusvlei dunes

By dorian on Sunday 22 June 2008, 22:15 - RTW2-Namibia

Click on the pictures (including the panoramic views) to enlarge them.

Namibian tracks and natural curiosities meet. The road unfolds and the uncertain gravel spurts under the weight of the vehicle. A hazard roadsign indicates the skid risks and with good reason... First fright of the trip with an off-the-track escapade. The high, yellowish, sunburnt grass bends to receive us. Everyone is safe, so is the car. We arrive in a whole part at Sesriem, entrance point for the Sossusvlei dunes.

The sun sets and we cover the 4.5km standing between us and the Sesriem canyon, a little trench within the stone laying down a sandy bed. Soon, the rock outline fades and the dusk floods the small canyon with obscurity. We drive back to set up the tent at the campsite of the NWR-ran park – NWR is a national company that manages most of the national parks. And we notice the Namibian government opted for a luxury tourism since the slightest night in a lodge is between 100 and 150 euros per person and the campsite comes to 25 euros per person but that is the only way if we wish marvelling at a sunrise over the red sanddunes of this part of the Namib desert. The gate of the park stays close for the « non-residents » until 6h45, a too late time to cover the 60 kilometers from the dunes before the sun starts rising.

Wake up at 5 am, fast breakfast, we put on shorts, a tee-shirt, a polar jacket and we leave for one of the most scenic spot in Namibia, the giant dunes of Sossuvlei. The ash dark veil of the night hardly dispels we begin climbing the dune number 45. A pilling up of sand we struggle up so much our feet sink in. But what a reward at the top! Day after day, the sun rises and sets amidst total indifference. There's however sunrises which engraves on the memory forever. Here is one of them. The first rays spurt from behind the rock that blocks the horizon. From the top of our dune we contemplate the other sand-made blazing colossuses. The morning wind sweeps the silica atoms that build these huge natural walls. Behind the unpronounceable name of Sossusvlei, hide the greatest sandunes in the world, ours is about 200 meters high while others can rise beyond the 300m.
We take off our shoes to feel the warm sand giving way under our feet. Our toes split up the ridge of the sand mountain and our eyes leap from a dune to another one without weariness, the cameras crackle and the emotion overwhelms us. Meeting between the African nature and the astral light for a breathtaking chromatic patchwork.

We keep on visiting the site and park the car at the end of the road. We yomp through a few dunes to reach Deadvlei. In the past, trees lived here but the aridity of the desert decided differently. The immortalized scene looks unreal. Trunks set in the white clay of a dried lake. It's probably in this strange place Salvador Dali drew his surrealist inspiration. We step on the dry earth while branches seems to writhe in pain in the scorching heat. 900 years the time froze the destiny of these trees. And a few centuries people marvel at. The surrounding red sand seems to respect this shrine. And the millions of particles gather together at the shore of the white expanse. The emotion still gnaws us.

Thus, an ordinary day in Namibia ends but an extraordinary one for the travelers we are.

Friday 7 December 2007

when the water meets the void at Iguazu

By dorian on Friday 7 December 2007, 01:57 - RTW-Argentina

20 hours by bus, we spend our time as we can, we sleep a lot, we chat, we passively watch the unexciting movies broadcasted on the screens of the bus and we count the hours. I finally arrive the next day in the morning at Puerto Iguazu, a small village whose prosperity is due to the proximity of the eponymous waterfalls. I live in a hostel which belongs to the Hostelling International network. I take off my bag and put my name down the list of the all-you-can-eat BBQ dinner. Lively evening around the swimming pool and caipirinha a gogo, the hours spent in the bus seem very far. A moment of relaxation before living some intense emotions, tomorrow morning. I'll do this discovery of the waterfalls with Philipp (German) and Maria (Canadian).
8am, we take the "El Practico" public bus and half an hour later we get in the park after paying the fee entrance. Most of the tourists opt for the train to go to the garganta del diablo (the devil's throat) but we prefer the morning serenity of the red earth of the path and its flanking thick forest. Our choice will be rewarded by 2 toucans which, not disposed to meet us, take off dragging their long orange beak into the air. On the path, large ants frenetically move. We wonder if this sort of ants must still be classified in the insect family when their body goes beyond 2 centimeters long! Giant lizards wriggle through the bushes and from time to time the railway track.

We finally leave the muddy path to walk on a one-kilometer-long footbridge which snakes up to the waterfalls. Our steps get closer and the noise gets louder. The pontoon ends into a circular platform, a zoom as a sound background. The serene upstream water panics and suddenly dips into the abyss. uncontrollable fury of cubic meters of water which disappear into the lair. A cloud of steam hides the bottom and gives to the waterfalls an endless sensation. The water jumps into the void, an aquatic roar evaporates from the fog. Ears and eyes disconnect to store the anger of the nature, this raw beauty that sticks us to the guardrail. Or how an apocalyptic scenery gets us right there, overwhelms us with indescribable emotions. And among that, we must tell us there will be inevitably an end because from this sudden passion, born on a metallic platform, we must unfortunately stick off and leave. As we walk further, we have withdrawal symptoms, this need to walk backwards to inject a dose again but the day is still long and the park still keeps us great surprises.

The discovery path of the waterfalls is a hide-and-seek with the water and the nature. We pass from an overview to a close view, from a wide-angle to a low-angle shot. We see some coatis which play among the branches. We drag our feet to lenghten the path a little bit. We don't definitely grow tired of this water in distress. The movie is a perpetual loop of water molecules in motion captured by the terrestrial gravity. And even if we know the mere and tragical screenplay relating the life of these agglutinated water drops, we stay faithful spectators, leaning on the handrail.

At the end of the day, we stroll on a remote path of the park. The route is silent and ends to a waterfall, another one. At the bottom of it, a tiny lake. Compulsory swimming for everybody.

We didn't finish with the waterfalls and we don't want to. The next day, a shuttle leaves the hostel to go to the Brazilian side. We form a superb international group and we get on like a house on fire. the journey lasts half an hour including the administrative formalities since no visa is needed to go to Brazil. The Portuguese takes the place of the Spanish on the signs alongside the road. At the entrance of the park, a bus shuttles up to the pedestrian way where all the team gets off.
The view of the waterfalls from the Brazilian side is actually complementary from our yesterday visit. The stroll offers us a breathtaking panoramic view. The water leaks from all the sides of the cliff. From a unique river, the water splits into multiple arms which, as a parasite plant creeps, invades the rock and submerges it. Like the Argentinian side, a footbridge extends the visit close to the waterfalls. Deafening symphony of this falling water, we are soaked by the spray. We slowly go back on the path to finish with an elevator which gives us an even more air viewpoint of the waterfalls. Last moments of a magical discovery we appreciate up to the last drop.