The Epic Ecuadorian Chocolate Adventure, Peurto Quito, September 2004

The raw cocoa beans

After 48 hours, 3 buses, and some dodgy hitchhiking I was negotiating a dirt track enclosed by lush greenery and wondering  if at some point earlier I’d taken a wrong turn.  Just as I was having a crisis of faith a small wooden shed on stilts magically appeared in front of me.  A brightly woven hammock was casually slung on the narrow balcony and a large, heavily ladened cocoa plant completed the scene.  Nothing could have been more a sight for sore eyes, the reason I had ventured this far off the beaten track was to learn how to make chocolate- a tradition passed on by such ancient civilisations as the Aztecs and, the more commonly associated Maya where chocolate was used in religious ceremonies as well as medicinally.

Dried and roasted

The main house was also on stilts and the ‘basement’ below was cluttered with the implements needed for the chocolate making process, as well as several batches at different stages in the cycle.  Mammy Rose talked me through it; the cocoa was grown in the forest surrounding the house, once the rough green fruits were ripe, they were cut open to reveal the raw bean which was coated in a fibrous, white layer which had to be removed (either by sucking the bean in your mouth or more hygienically peeling).  The lustrous coffee coloured pebbles are then air dried before being roasted and the now blackened crusty outer layer cracked open.  The significantly smaller nugget is then ground to a powder before being mixed with oil and water to become a silky, fragrant liquid.  The warm and soothing drink was vastly different to the hot chocolate we are accustomed to in Europe; not only is it thicker and smoother but without sugar or milk it is bitter but without being uncomfortably sour.  In fact milk wasn’t added until 1689 (by the doctor Sir Hans Sloane), although the Cadbury brothers are more frequently credited with this transformation over two centuries later.  

Adding oil and water

After a relaxing day at the homestead I set out to explore the surrounding rainforest, which in most places seemed completely void of human contact.  The stillness gave the impression of silence, yet the air was thick with the sounds of creaking braches and busy insects.  The trail was narrow and descended steeply.  The trees so thick I could have been tunnelling through the centre of the earth.  I was headed towards the mysterious ‘Green Waterfall’.  The lagoon nestled in the heart of dense foliage and boasted a shoreline of vibrant turquoise rocks.  The cascading water caught the fine stream of light piercing the canopy, shedding a soft blue glow onto the surface of the pool- a just reward after long and sweaty trek.

The finished product

My final morning in the village arrived and I was invited to the small, single room school situated on the main road out of town.  A frantic lesson attempting to teach the children the geography of South America ensued.  Every time I opened my mouth the whole room would descend into fits of giggles, my rudimentary Spanish the source of the hilarity.  Despite the prospect of another two days on the road I was happy to leave, encouraged by the thought of a hot shower and flat bed.  

Aussie Adventures: Part 1, Australia, November 2004

Australia holds fond memories for me; I found and promptly lost the love of my life, learnt to drive a 4x4 up and down sand banks, how to drink beer, but mostly how to relax, a skill I find none too simple.  To this day spending a day lounging around in the sun with cricket on in the background and ‘stubby’ (or more likely Pimms if I’m in the UK) in hand makes me feel slightly uncomfortable, like I should be doing something more productive but then I remember, if a whole nation build their reputation on nothing more than having fun then so can I.

Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge after the rain

My adventure started after a ludicrously long flight from Santiago to Sydney through Auckland, where we stopped disembarked and re-embarked.  On the second leg I found myself sitting next to a girl who I would have kindly described as a free spirit, in reality she looked a bit grubby; greasy hair slicked back, browning tie die prints and a discernable lack of personal hygiene.  Despite this she seemed quite friendly and we were soon chatting about what I should expect in Sydney, she was even staying at my hostel and agreed to accompany me there.  On arrival we queued for what seemed like an eternity at passport control and my new found friend started talking to a man who had appeared quite by magic behind us, she was shifting nervously and eventually terminated the conversation with a gruff ‘OK’. 

Skyscrapers of the CBD

“Who was that?” I inquired, “Oh just a friend of mine from Auckland”.  I was satisfied with this explanation and took my turn at passport control.  The process took longer than I expected as I was asked about my activities in South America but soon all paper work in order I headed out to the carousels to collect my rucksack.  Unsurprisingly the girl had vanished but unphased I wandered through customs.  I could see Sydney by this point, the sliding doors were opening as I strode towards them, sunshine glinting through the skylights when someone caught my eye…the man from earlier was looking at me so I enquired after the girl.  This was where my trouble really began, I should have realised that someone with their bags open on a table with a customs officer riffling through them was not someone I should be associating myself with.  But it was too late, I was surrounded.  A group of men in blue police uniforms guided me to the side where they relieved me of my passport, luggage and tickets, I was panicking and trying to summon enough courage to ask what on earth was happening.  The most senior looking officer turned round and sarcastically asked “do you not know what’s going on”.  He clearly saw the blankness of my expression and no more sympathetically explained “you’re being arrested on suspicion of international drug smuggling”.  Instantly the headlines that would accompany my fall from grace circled in front of me ‘Senior Civil Servants Daughter Involved in Drug Ring’ and the like.  

Bondi when the sun finally shone!

Tediously every inch of me and my possessions were searched and I was questioned for what seemed like hours but it soon became clear to all involved that I was not the girl they were looking for.  The mistake was clear, the man I had spoken to had been found to be carrying a very large quantity of cocaine with him and I was thought to be his partner in crime!  I was released feeling weak and shaky, but I was resilient and knew a Mars bar and a coke would sort me out and I’d soon be recovering on the famous white sand beaches.  But of course Mother Nature had other ideas and as I stumbled out onto the brightly lit concourse of Sydney airport the skies opened and a two year drought was broken…

Monsoon in Makeni, Sierra Leone, April 2011

The road had been dusty and long, even the tarmacked highway was uncomfortable.  Despite the magnificent mountainscape we traversed out of Freetown I was glad to have the end in sight.  The roads in the town of Makeni were covered in large rocks and so I was thrown about inside the now empty four by four.  The sunset had been a glowing orange but as we reached the city limits dusk turned the sky, grey to black.  We drove down a quiet track in front of an impressive looking building, the sky was looking ominous, large mushroomed clouds were backlit by the remainders of day light giving their edges a ghostly translucent glow.  “This is St. Joseph’s Sister Mary announced”

Creepy crawlies come out to play after the rain

We stopped in a spacious courtyard surrounded by the main school on three sides.  Before Sister Mary had even turned off the engine there was a multitude of children surrounding the vehicle begging to be allowed to help.  Unusually the scene was next to silent, only the occasional excited squeal being heard- these children were deaf and St. Josephs the school where they lived.  One tiny boy insisted on carrying my daypack- it must have been at least half his size but he skipped merrily along in front of me before depositing it on the table in my room.  I was hustled in by the large group and made to feel welcome; I don’t remember a time anyone being so happy to see me!

Suddenly there was a noise, at first a humming, we stopped and listened as it grew to a roar.  The children knew exactly what was happening but it took me a few seconds longer to look out the window and understand.  The clouds were beginning to crack and the wind was picking up.  Gallons of rainwater were being battered onto the tin roof.  I was so dusty and sweaty from the journey that I thought what could be better than an open air shower.  However I resisted, what would the elderly nun who had brought me here have thought?  I grinned inwardly and instead stuck my hand out into one of the waterfalls that was cascading over the balcony.  It was cool and refreshing, I stood there for a second allowing it to cleanse my soul. 

Sunrise after the rain

The treat was not over as the shower continued, thunder grumbled close by while the horizon transformed into a dramatic lightshow; lightning bolts flitting from one end of the vast expanse to the other. 

The roads had turned to muddy rivers making traveling a treacherous affair so there was nothing to stop me standing on the verandah watching the storm move away.  When it was over, a calmness descended onto the sleepy town, the cool air a welcome change from the close heat of the previous week in Freetown.  Many a shaking head commented that this was too early for monsoon rains but for me it was just the perfect welcome to Makeni.