WORLD WONDERS

WORLD WONDERS It is the beginning of April ’08. My journey from Kerikeri in New Zealand to Amsterdam in Holland has begun. After a week of rainy weather in Northland, I enjoyed basking in the sun during the bus trip to Auckland. The rubbish along the highway struck me once again. Road works seem to be part of New Zealand which is both a nuisance and a good thing. Many sheep were scattered all over the lush green hills. We passed a small graveyard on a hill side that was more a floral garden than a graveyard with its clean, washed, bright flowers. A few Mynah birds were hitching a ride on a sheep’s back whilst pecking off a tick or two. The humming of the vibration of the bus was irritably drumming against my brain, especially when two youngsters joined the choir.I flew with Korean Air and their service was efficient. Everything was said in three languages. It sure was a great relief for me knowing that some understandable English would follow the initial instructions. The plane was filled to full capacity with tour groups of Koreans. To get a seat in the friendly chaos took a little while and I ended in the middle of the middle row. The woman next to me, about my age, took me under her wing. She would excuse the manner of the Koreans every time and acted as buffer between the few Europeans and the Koreans. They demonstrated how I should properly eat and enjoy my Korean food. With their limited English, photo’s on the digital camera, sign language and pen and paper, we were soon visiting spontaneously. I knew they were on holiday in Australia and New Zealand and they knew that I am from Namibia. A hearty invitation to their home followed when we landed in Korea which unfortunately had to wait till next time. White mist hung in an almost solid curtain to the ground where it seemed to bounce upward like smoke. An eerie and wary feeling crept into my hair. I was disappointed that my expectations to see something of Incheon were restricted, and once in the air, any view of Seoul, was visually blocked. People leaving the entrance of the hotel, disappeared as vague figures in the thick fog. Momentarily the shadowy outline of a car or bus could be identified before fading again. The friendly foyer assistant assured me explicitly that it was spring and the skies would be clear by eleven o’clock in the morning. The bus trip to the airport showed nothing more than ghost traffic passing in the heavy fog that dragged its feet on the ground. When the mist cleared, thick haze remained. The airplane kept climbing to an altitude of 43000 feet, where we finally were on the top level of the smog blanket. Eventually the smog cleared enough that I could see the immediate ground with snow on the peaks of the Greater Hinggan Mountain Range in China. Steep cliffs and gorges alternated with patchwork of cultivated fields in between. My total impression was that it must be very cold, hard and tough down there. Through the smog that hung evenly like a carpet in the sky, I could see the landscape change to desert. In some places even into a sandy desert. I felt in tune with the desolate landscape below when I spotted little pockets of civilization in a valley. It always amazes me where and how ‘life’ can be found. Almost all the curtains was drawn over the windows when we flew over The Great Wall Of China. It snaked with straight lines hard and stark, through the panorama. Clearly visible. It wound up and down the hills and across the desert as far as the eye could see until it disappeared behind the horizon. To look at this immense feat of 6700 kilometres and more than 2000 years old was mind boggling. It was easy to understand why it is a World Heritage Site. The smog hung over most of the Gobi Desert in Mongolia. Flight attendants assured me it was the result of Beijing. Over the Altay Mountains of Mongolia, the sun came through and delighted me in the clear sight of these rough mountains with their snow caps. The Sayan Mountains followed and to my utmost surprise, Lake Baikal came in sight. It is the largest fresh water lake in the world and also a World Heritage Site. Immediately the assurance of the hotel attendant sprang to mind – it is spring. By coincidence I read the other day an article * over the Baikal Lake other wise this wonder might have passed me by, due to ignorance. For now, the lake is still frozen but I could see lines of big cracks over it. The clear blue ice is normally more than a meter thick. Apparently it sounds like a symphony orchestra when the ice starts to crack and break in the spring. It snaps with thunder and roars when cracking. Then purrs like a basket full of kittens when the ice is smaller and the wind blows it across the lake. Snow white fresh water seals found nowhere else feed on a tiny silver fish that flourish at a depth of 200 - 400 metres. If the little fish come into sunlight they melt away. Leaving only a layer of fat and a backbone. In autumn the hurricane winds chase up a wild sea of 4 -6 meters with sunken ships a common result.A blanket of snow covered the Siberian plains that were stretching along forever. The Ob River in Russia made an enormous impression on me. Snaking like a giant silver serpent across the plains with fat curls and elegant whirls, with slender loops and voluptuous curves. Fine and intriguing like embroidery with its many subsidiaries or solid when it is just one very big mass flowing to the Kara Sea. The clouds came and with the blinding glare of the sunshine on them, I had to cover my window to the world.