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Now and Zen: travels in Japan

Arashiyama Bamboo Forest

Behind an inconspicuous wooden door marked only with a tiny sign on a side street of Tokyo’s Azabu-Juban district lies Gen Yamamoto bar. With just eight seats around a counter of Japanese oak, no music, no food and bare walls, this tiny bar is an spartan temple to cocktails. Here, the white jacketed Gen Yamamoto, who with his clean shaven head and soft spoken voice has the air of a monk, brings science and art together in his six-course tasting menus, which change depending on the fresh produce he can source from all over Japan. The drinks are sophisticated creations that have layered flavours and textures – such as a 12-year old Yamazaki single malt with mashed pumpkin from Hokkaido, milk and sesame seeds which tastes like the epitome of autumn – and the overall experience demands the kind of quiet reverence you’d usually reserve for fine art.

In Japan, almost anything of worth – like cocktails – is elevated to the level of an art form, whether it’s flower arranging, the design of manhole covers or even the wrapping of packages in a shop, and in no place is this more evident than in Tokyo, one of the most culturally attuned cities in the world. In a metropolitan population of 38 million, Gen Yamamoto is just one of many artisans taking their craft seriously.

With more Michelin-starred restaurants than anywhere else in the world, Tokyo is the ultimate culinary capital. Chefs take decades to perfect the art of making just one thing, like Jiro Ono, the 90-year old sushi master who was the subject of a 2011 documentary film. At his eponymous 10-seater restaurant, Sukiyabashi Jiro, located in the basement of a nondescript office building in Ginza, each 20 sushi course is presented by Jiro. The precision and artistry that Jiro applies to each piece of moulded fish and rice makes you realise that in Japan food can be so much more more than just something you eat.

The more I see (and consume) of Tokyo – the bonsai gardens, the coffee shop with perfect iced cappuccinos inside a tiny wooden cube, the faultlessly curated design shops, the confectioners with sweets almost too beautiful to put in your mouth – the more I start wonder what it is about Japan that its culture is one of such craftsmanship and attention to detail. It’s only when I go to Kyoto – Japan’s spiritual centre of Zen Buddhism – that I start to make a connection between Japanese artistry and Zen.

During my week in Kyoto, I immerse myself in Zen, visiting some of the more than a thousand Buddhist temples scattered across the city and its surrounding mountains. I experience a “rebirth” in the pitch dark cave womb of a Bodhisattva at Kiyomizu-dera Temple, sit in contemplative silence in front of a 15th-century rock garden at Ryōan-ji, shoot photos of the Golden Pavilion reflecting yellow brilliance off a still pond and wander the treed pathways of Ginkaku-ji where a massive cone of sand has been meticulously constructed to reflect moonlight back onto the garden. Each temple is an aesthetic paragon of minimalism, beauty and simplicity – all conspiring to facilitate the kind of meditation that I try to practice towards the end of the week.

I spend a night on a futon mattress at Shunkoin Temple and awake at dawn to the ringing of bells for morning practice: zazen (seated meditation) takes place on the floor of the four-century-old temple with a view of the carefully manicured garden and its raked gravel patterns. Vice Abbot Taka Kawakami talks through meditation in a nutshell – how it is about conditioning the mind, so you can maintain inner peace and live in the moment, which is the essence of Zen.

While one morning of meditation doesn’t have any effect on my caffeine-fast mental chatter, it’s in the zazen session that I realise that Japanese craftsmanship reflects the inner stillness that comes with Zen practice. Zen breeds a focused mind, a preference for minimalism, and a quest for the perfection of form together with a distilling of things down to their most core essence. It seems clear that it’s these qualities that shape the approach people in Japan bring to their craft. And to consume something done expertly in Japan – drinking cocktails, admiring bonsai, slurping a bowl of ramen noodles – is to have an experience so immersive and so anchored in the here and now that it’s not far off from the presence of mind that you aim to reach in zazen. There’s a lot to love about Japan, but for me this is where its true magic lies.

This was originally published in the December 2015 issue of Wanted magazine

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Finding surf and yoga zen in Nosara

Playa Guiones, Nosara, Costa Rica

Nosara is one of those places that you arrive in and on your first day you think “I could live here”. It’s the kind of place that makes people change their flights, cancel other travel plans, or, in many cases – decide to relocate.

On the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica’s Nicoya Peninsula, Nosara is a small low-key village of yoga studios, juice bars, laidback restaurants, surf shops and small hotels surrounded by trees and flanked by Playa Guiones, a wide, gently curving stretch of golden sand with a legendary surf break. There are strict rules on development, so there are no buildings near the beach, and there are no big resorts, tourist touts or rowdy bars.When parties do happen, they’re usually over by 10.30pm – everyone goes to bed early to get up for surfing. The tiny grocery store sells homemade hummus, raw chocolate spread, vegan chocolate bread and French cheese.  The notice boards around the village advertise drawing classes, yoga workshops, massages and reggae band gigs. People get around by quad bike, bicycle, golf cart and tuk tuk, and everyone you pass walking on the streets (which are sprayed with molasses and smell like sugary treats) greets you with a friendly Hola! Each day, just before sunset, everyone in Nosara – including all the dogs in town – gathers on the beach to watch the sun set over the Pacific Ocean together.

Nosara is the kind of beach paradise I’ve always fantasised about living in. I’m not the only one – many people who live in Nosara are expats who either live there full time, or for a few months over the northern hemisphere winter. Many are people who came to Nosara on holiday and just never went home.

I could see why after just the few days it took to get into a Nosara routine: waking up early to the rasping growls of howler monkeys, walking on jungle paths to a yoga studio set in the treetops, drinking a coconut water and eating a bowlful of delicious tropical fruit for breakfast, sitting under a ceiling fan writing stories during the heat of the day, and then heading out to the beach in the late afternoon. After a couple of failed attempts at surfing in Cape Town, I decided to give it another go in the warm ocean in Nosara, so I added surfing lessons to my routine after the first week there.

Learning to surf is challenging and scary (read more about my surfing learning curve here) but so much fun – and the best thing about it is seeing the synergies between riding the waves and practising yoga (breath, focus, connection with nature, meditation), and realising that within surfing you can find a lot of life’s great lessons.

It didn’t take long to feel part of a community, getting to know restaurant owners and surf instructors and yoga teachers and the Argentinian guy who sells empanadas from a picnic basket, and the ever-friendly Warner, who sells his jewellery at a little stand right by the beach. I even got to know Nosara’s dogs, greeting my favourite ones with a hug on the beach every sunset.

Travelling is about seeing new places, but it’s also about getting into the rhythm of a place. After four months of traversing South America, stopping for awhile in Nosara and getting a taste of a simple beachside life, was just what I needed.

Playa Guiones, Nosara, Costa Rica

Playa Pelada, Nosara, Costa Rica

My guide to Nosara

My favourite places and things to eat in Nosara.

La Creperie, a 10-minute walk from Playa Guiones, serves up proper French crepes and delicious casados. My favourites were the caramelised leek and zucchini savoury crepe and the number six – homemade dark chocolate, shredded coconut, hazelnuts and vanilla ice cream.

La Luna is the only restaurant in Nosara with a beachside setting, right above Playa Pelada. It’s a pricey spot, but you’re paying for the glorious view (go just before sunset) and the tasty food – paper-thin pizzas, Middle Eastern platters (the baba ganoush and hummus are amazing) and the delicious cocktails.

La Luna Restaurant, Playa Pelada, Nosara, Costa Rica

Dee’s is a small, well-priced Vietnamese restaurant close to Guiones Beach with great veggie pad thai, summer rolls and fish curry.

Rosi’s Soda is one of the only Costa Rican restaurants in Nosara, and a great one it is too. The casados, packed with fresh salad, fried plantains, avocado and delicious beans, topped with homemade salsa piccante, were the best I’ve had anywhere in Costa Rica.

Go Juice is a colourful little food truck parked just by the northern end of Playa Guiones which serves up delicious juices and smoothies (love the coconut water with lime and watermelon) and iced coffee (the one with banana was my favourite) which are great right after a morning surf. On Wednesdays they also offer a Costa Rican take on Hawaiian poke, with fresh raw tuna in sesame oil with spring onions and avocado.

I cooked a lot of my own food while I was in Nosara, and loved shopping for organic fruit and veggies (and amazing vegan pesto) at the weekly market which took place on Saturday afternoons at the skate park.

I tried a couple of different yoga studios and classes while I was in Nosara, but the Nosara Yoga Institute was my favourite (especially Yali’s classes).

I rented my surf board from Juan Surfo’s surf shop, a short walk away from Playa Guiones.

Juan Surfo's surf shop, Nosara

Where to stay in Nosara

Most people stay in rental houses or apartments in Nosara, and there are loads to choose from, but they’re all pretty pricey.

I stayed in the 4You Hostel, which was the nicest backpackers hostel I’ve ever been to, and one of my favourite places to stay on my whole eight-month trip so far. It has a sleek Bali-esque design, a huge communal kitchen, airy bungalows and a big outside couch under a ceiling fan for afternoon naps. The immensely lovely Swiss couple who run the hostel (and live on the property) became like family after my six weeks there.

4You Hostel, Nosara, Costa Rica

If you’ve got the cash to splurge, Harmony Hotel is Nosara’s best luxury boutique hotel, with immaculate palm tree-shaded grounds, a big swimming pool, stylish rooms, a beautiful open-air yoga studio and a great juice bar.

Harmony Hotel, Nosara, Costa Rica

How to get to Nosara

Flying to Nosara on Nature Air

There are direct international flights to Liberia airport, which is two hours from Nosara.

If you’re coming from Costa Rica’s capital, San Jose, the quickest and easiest way to get to Nosara is to fly on the carbon-neutral airline, Nature Air. Flights are around $60 one day and take about an hour – a beautiful flight in a tiny plane with huge windows to make the most of the aerial scenery.

There’s a bus from San Jose to Nosara, which takes five hours, or you could drive yourself in a rental car.


Four months of South America in photos

Sarah Duff Machu Picchu

The second part of this year-long around-the-world trip (after a three-month stint in the USA), was South America, a continent I had never visited. It had always seemed so far from South Africa, so I felt like a normal-length two-week trip would never cut it. I saved up South America for a time when I had months to see as much as possible.

In four months, I travelled the length (and some of the breadth, minus Brazil) of this amazing continent, learning Spanish and tango in Buenos Aires, trekking the spectacular peaks and glaciers of Argentinian and Chilean Patagonia, getting soaked under the spray of Iguazu Falls, hiking the otherworldly landscape of Chile’s Atacama Desert, where I stood under huge steaming geysers and floated in salt lagoons, 4x4ing through the desert of Bolivia’s altiplano and seeing the sun rise over the world’s largest salt flat, bird watching and piranha fishing in the Bolivian Amazon, exploring Machu Picchu,  snorkelling with sea lions and communing with marine iguanas in the natural Disneyworld Galapagos Islands, walking through mists in the beautiful cloud forest of Mashpi on mainland Ecuador, trekking for four tough days through the Colombian jungle to reach the ancient ruins of the Lost City and learning to dive on tiny Providencia Island.

It was one adventure after another – a wild, wonderful journey that I will never forget.

These are my favourite places in photos.

Iguazu Falls, Argentina-1Las Torres hike in Torres del Paine National ParkPerito Moreno glacier trekking, El Calafate, PatagoniaMoon Valley, Atacama Desert, ChileLlama and Licancabur VolcanoEl Tatio Geyser field, Atacama Desert, ChileSalar de Uyuni, BoliviaLaguna Blanca, BoliviaLlama, BoliviaMadidi National Park, BoliviaSarah Duff Machu PicchuView from Wayna PicchuSarah Duff Machu PicchuSarah Duff Galapagos Islands-11Sarah Duff Galapagos Islands-1Mashpi Lodge, EcuadorHiking at Mashpi Lodge, EcuadorColombia's Lost City or Ciudad PerdidaProvidencia Island, Colombia




Providencia Island: Colombia’s secret Caribbean paradise

Providencia Island, Colombia

“Welcome to Providencia, where everything come in slow motion”, said our taxi driver, Jerry, as he coasted down the gently winding road along the coast of Colombia’s tiny Caribbean island. Jerry hooted and waved at just about every scooter and car that passed us: “I don’t know everyone on the island, but I will do soon.”

Providencia Island, which is closer to Nicaragua but belongs to Colombia, is a beautiful atoll home to white-sand palm tree-lined beaches, lush jungly hills, around 5000 people who mainly speak a unique form of English Creole, and a handful of small hotels and guesthouses in Caribbean-style wooden buildings the colour of fruit sorbet ice creams. There’s just one 17-kilometre road around the island (the best way to get around the island is by renting a golf cart) and not a single resort. It’s so under the radar that not even that many Colombians know about it.

The island is surrounded by the world’s third largest barrier reef, so the snorkelling and diving is amazing (I did my five-day open water PADI certification with Pichi – the most chilled guy in the world – at Felipe’s Dive Shop, and dived with sharks every day). Apart getting into the warm water to dive or swim, there’s not much else to do on Providencia Island, other than drinking pina coladas out of coconuts, swaying on hammocks, dancing to Bob Marley being played by beachside reggae bars, and watching the sunset each day. It’s honestly one of the most laidback, relaxing, friendly places I’ve ever been to.

My favourite spots were Cafe Studio, a little restaurant near Freshwater Bay that serves the most amazing crab stew with coconut rice, tamarind juices and coconut pie (which I still crave) and Roland’s Reggae Bar at Manzanillo Bay, where you can sit in old wooden boats and drink cold beer, with the ocean four steps away, or swing into the sea on buoys hanging from palm trees. I couldn’t get enough of the crab pizza at the Blue Coral Pizzeria, and the toasted crab sandwiches and homemade lemonade at Miss Elma’s, right on the beach in Freshwater Bay. I loved hiring a golf cart for the day and exploring every little beach on the island.

By end of nine sunshine-filled, wi-fi and stress free, heart-rate slowingly relaxing days on Providencia Island, we felt like we knew half the island (including its packs of stray dogs). People hooted at us from scooters and the back of pick up trucks as we strolled along the road. It didn’t take long to feel part of this tiny island community – it’s easy to see why many of the people who end up here never want to leave.

Providencia Island, Colombia

How to get to Providencia Island

There are only two ways to get to Providencia – by boat or plane from nearby San Andres Island. The boat ride is a seasickness-inducing one, and trips can be cancelled if the sea is rough, so it’s best to fly (flights don’t cost that much more).

Where to stay on Providencia Island

Posada Mr Mac, Providencia Island, Colombia

The most expensive hotel on the island, Deep Blue, has a lovely view but it doesn’t have a beach and it’s on the eastern side of the island, so you’ll miss out on sunsets.

We stayed at Sol Caribe, which was overpriced but had a great location on the beachfront of Freshwater Bay (which, having driven around the island, I think is the best area to stay in, with a great dive shop, restaurants, golf cart rental place and a few hotel options).

We also stayed at Posada Mr Mac – a very basic little guesthouse in Freshwater Bay. The room was cramped and stuffy, but super cheap – and it had a pretty unbeatable setting right on the water, with hammocks stretched across the deck, so you could sway gently watching the sunset.

Freshwater Bay, Providencia Island, Colombia Hiring a golf cart, Providencia Island, Colombia Diving, Providencia Island, Colombia Providencia Island, Colombia Diving, Providencia Island, Colombia Snorkelling, Diving, Providencia Island, Colombia Snorkelling, Diving, Providencia Island, Colombia



An Amazon journey: Bolivia’s Madidi National Park

Madidi National Park, Bolivia

“This is why it’s called a rainforest”, said our guide Orlando Queteguari Apana, as the dark clouds broke above us and rivers of rain were unleashed. We regretted not choosing to take wellington boots on the hike, as pathways through the trees quickly turned into knee-deep rivers on our two-hour walk back to the lodge.

Getting drenched in the Amazon was more fun than it sounds. Just before the rain started, hundreds of frogs started croaking in a discordant, chimey chorus, and it felt like the forest was coming alive. I loved the intensity of walking through the rain, and the colours of the leaves becoming more saturated as they dripped water, and feeling totally immersed in this wild, intense environment.

It was one highlight of a four-day trip to the Bolivian Amazon – to Madidi National Park, one of the most biodiverse areas on the planet. Most people opt for Peru, Brazil or Ecuador for a trip into the Amazon, while Madidi remains undervisited and undeveloped (and much more affordable) – there are only a handful of lodges to stay at in the park.

We chose Madidi Jungle Ecolodge, reached by a boat ride up the Beni River from the small town of Rurrenabaque (reached by a bumpy but spectacular short flight on a tiny plane from La Paz). Our room had a bed draped in a mosquito net, mosquito nets covering the windows and a hammock outside on the veranda. There are only a few other rooms, and a dining area, where you have communal meals of catfish steamed in leaves, rice, salads,  fresh juices, and fruit. There’s no wi-fi, swimming pool or electricity in the rooms – at night you use candles. It was blissfully simple.

For our four-day stay, we hiked through the jungle for hours – virgin rainforest of giant trees, vines, creepers, flowers, mushrooms and moss – with Orlando teaching us about trees, birds, animals and insects. He’s always lived in the rainforest, so his knowledge is astounding – not to mention his amazing imitative monkey and bird calls. It’s hard to spot wildlife in the Amazon – the idea is not to come here with a checklist of all the famous animals you’d like to see (cats such like jaguars are present here but hardly ever seen), but we did manage to spot capuchin, spider and howler monkeys, a capybara, columns of leaf cutter ants, tiny poison dart frogs and successfully tracked peccaries – bush pigs – by following their distinctive sour smell and the sound of their teeth cracking open palm fruit. We saw parakeets, toucans and screeching macaws, and about twenty other species of birds I’d never even heard of, and ate some yellow fruit we collected off the forest floor. We also went on boat cruises, fished for piranhas with chunks of bloody beef, floated down the chocolate-brown river in tubes and went on a night walk, shining our headlamps at thousands of diamond glittering spider eyes and the yellowish orbs of a caiman in the river.

In the afternoons we’d lie on the hammock, spotting birds flitting in and out of the heliconia flowers planted on the edge of the forest, and at night we’d fall asleep to the most beautiful soundtrack I’ve ever heard – frogs croaking, insects chirrupping and rain falling on a thousand leaves.

Almost 20 000 square kilometres large, Madidi, which is part of the Amazon basin and home to 20 000 plant species, more than a thousand bird species, hundreds of mammals and over 120 000 species of insects, only became a national park in 1995, after decades of tireless campaigning by conservationists, who were trying to prevent the logging companies coming into the area. Part of the conservationists’ campaign had to do with the indigenous communities who live within the park getting rights to their ancestral land.

One of these communities is the village of San José de Uchupiamonas. Before 1995, the villagers had previously made their livelihoods from growing coffee and hunting animals – ocelots, peccaries and jaguars – for their pelts, but now ecotourism has replaced hunting. The community owns five lodges in Madidi, one of which is Madidi Jungle Ecolodge, which was started in 2010. All the staff at the lodge are from San José de Uchupiamonas, and the guides, such as Orlando, now use their skills in hunting animals to track them down on hikes with tourists. At a time when the term “ecotourism” gets applied to lodges and tour companies that are anything but eco-friendly, it’s hard to find places that are doing it right. I was thrilled to be in the Amazon, a place I’d always dreamed about visiting, but the best thing about travelling to Madidi, for me, was knowing that by being there I was helping to contribute in a small way to the conservation of this incredibly beautiful rainforest.

Birdwatching in Madidi National Park

Boat cruise Madidi National Park, Bolivia

Our guide at Madidi Jungle Ecolodge, Orlando

Column of leaf cutter ants in Madidi National Park, Bolivia


Salt, sky and sand on a 4×4 trip through Bolivia

Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia

My introduction to Bolivia couldn’t have been more dramatic: a border crossing from Chile at over 4000 metres above sea level in the freezing early morning with the giant Licancabur Volcano looming in the background, followed by three days of offroading in a Land Cruiser through some of the most beautiful and unusual landscapes I’ve ever seen.

After a breakfast of sandwiches and mint tea in a tiny hut next to the tiny hut of the Bolivian border post, my boyfriend and I crammed into a dusty Land Cruiser (where neither the heater nor the odometer worked) with four strangers, no seatbelts and a Bolivian driver who looked about 16 and spoke no English.

It doesn’t sound like a recipe for travel success, but it was. Jorge turned out to be an excellent driver and the friend-making in the car happened in a mix of English, French and Spanish. The next three days were spent on a grande aventure cruising through Bolivia’s Reserva Nacional de Fauna Andina Eduardo Avaroa, stopping to look at a spectacular sequence turquoise and white lagoons, driving through a terracotta desert strewn with ancient volcanic rocks like the background of a Salvador Dali painting, swimming in 36-degree hot springs at 4800 metres above sea level in a bitingly cold wind, photographing a field of geysers and a solidified field of lava that looked like brownie mixture as a volcano smoked on the horizon. We spotted one lone fox, tiny flocks of vicuñas and llamas and pink ribbons of flamingoes on a lagoon the colour of dark rust. People posed for photographs on a lonely train track through the nothingness of the desert when suddenly a tiny one-carriage train appeared on the horizon and whizzed past.

We slept in simple refugios – one at about 4500 metres, where I woke up many times in the night gasping for breath – and a salt hotel, where the walls, floor and tables were lickable, ate a lot of potatoes and fried eggs and chewed coca leaves for the altitude.

On the last day we woke up at 4am and packed up our car under a sky thick with stars and drove out to Salar de Uyuni, the world’s largest salt flat (the same size as Lebanon), to watch the sun rise over the hexagonal puzzle shapes of the thick salt crust. In the early dawn light we explored Isla Incahuasi, an island of giant cactuses so surreal and beautiful it stunned almost everyone into silent contemplation. As the sun turned the salt flat a blinding white, Jorge drove us fast straight across the salt flat blasting his favourite tune “Me gusta bailar” as a German girl on top the car next to us took off her top and held on to the roof racks as her blonde hair whipped behind her.


Sarah Duff Salar de Uyuni-2 Sarah Duff Salar de Uyuni-3 Sarah Duff Salar de Uyuni-4Sarah Duff Salar de Uyuni-5 Sarah Duff Salar de Uyuni-6 Sarah Duff Salar de Uyuni-7 Sarah Duff Salar de Uyuni-8 Sarah Duff Salar de Uyuni-9 Sarah Duff Salar de Uyuni-10

How to do a 4×4 trip through Bolivia’s southwest and Salar de Uyuni

There are a number of tour operators offering 4×4 trips in Land Cruisers through Bolivia, either from San Pedro de Atacama in Chile or from the dusty town of Uyuni in Bolivia. There have been some really bad reports about the cheaper tours regarding things like drivers drinking, so it’s not worth it to skimp on cost. The trips are either three days or four days, and you can either do a one-way route or a circular route, back to San Pedro or Uyuni. You can book private tours but these are pretty expensive. Most people opt for joining in with a group. If you can, make some friends before you do the trip, and share a car with them. My boyfriend and I were lucky – we had a great group in our car, and we were travelling in convoy with two other cars filled with a friendly bunch of people from around the world.

After doing a lot of research, I decided to go with Cordillera Traveller. The communication from their office was pretty bad before the trip (like not telling us we needed to bring our own water), but other than that the trip was great. We had an amazing driver, Jorge, who at first looked worryingly young, but turned out to be a great driver, knowledgeable guide and fun guy. Our month of Spanish lessons definitely came in handy – he, nor any of the other drivers, spoke no English.

Our two-night three-day trip from San Pedro to Uyuni cost $180, which included accommodation – one night in a basic hostel where we shared a six-bed room, and one night in a salt hotel where we had double or triple rooms – and meals. The food wasn’t fantastic (especially for vegetarians) but with the high altitude, I hardly felt hungry. If you eat a lot take snacks with you!

You are at very high altitudes for most of the trip. Make sure you acclimatise for a few days by staying in a fairly high place (such as San Pedro) before doing the 4×4 trip. Most of our group had headaches – including me, despite taking aspirins and altitude sickness pills. Chewing coca leaves and drinking coca tea was actually the only thing that helped. It’s also incredibly dry, so bring a large tube of lip ice and lots of moisturiser.

I felt saddened to see so much toilet paper at the “bano naturales” where people had gone to the loo behind bushes and on rocks. Please take your toilet paper with you! Each day there are dozens of people doing this trip, and if everyone leaves toilet paper behind each time they make a natural wee, the most beautiful places on the route will look like the outskirts of Uyuni – a trash wasteland.

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