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See the exhibition about one of Angola's oldest tribes, the Vatwa of Angola "We were the original inhabitants of this area thousands of years ago. No one really knows where we came from. We have crops over there, we have these goats, we live off the land.” Mutjila, Vatwa chief. The Vatwa of Angola Regarded as the first indigenous inhabitants of the Onconcua region, the Vatwa remain semi-nomadic and grow crops and tend goats within the compounds housing their traditional huts. The most striking thing about the Vatwa are the women, covered in a red paste of ochre clay, animal fats and lotion that makes their skin shine in the unrelenting sun. Young, newly married women wear a three-pronged ekori goatskin on top of their platted dreadlocks. The wearing of certain necklaces, braids and shells represents a unique mix of personal style and significant life stages. The attire makes sense considering the isolated environment: sparse, desolate, flat. See the exhibition Melbourne 8 April - 6 May 2026 Address Ladder Art Space 81 Denmark St, Kew VIC 3101 Contact (03) 9852 8772 Opening Hours Tue - Sat 11:30am – 5:00pm info@ladderartspace.com.au guy@guyneedham.com ABOUT THE PHOTOGRAPHER Guy Needham’s inquisitive worldview was shaped by growing up in rural New Zealand in the 1970s. Today he is noted for his international work with indigenous tribes, primarily drawing on themes of identity and place within cultural narratives. His work is a hybrid of photographic genres, sitting somewhere between documentary and portraiture. The simplicity of his pared-down style has been described as having both a quiet intensity and a subtle momentum. His images have been exhibited in New York, London, Paris, Berlin, Barcelona, Tokyo, and Athens, and been seen on the pages of National Geographic Traveler, CNN.com, Lonely Planet, SUITCASE Magazine, International Traveler, Portrait Magazine and AFAR.

Recent solo and group exhibitions that Guy Needham's work has featured in around the world. EXHIBITIONS SOLO 2026 The Dani of Papua , Galleria Arte Roma Design Rome, Italy 2026 The Vatwa of Angola, Ladder Art Space Melbourne, Australia 2025 The Dani of Papua, Associação de Psicanálise Relacional Lisbon, Portugal 2023 The Dani of Papua, FotoNostrum House of Photography Barcelona, Spain 2023 The Dani of Papua, The Grey Place Auckland, New Zealand 2021 The Hadzabe of Tanzania, Ladder Art Space Melbourne, Australia 2020 The Samburu of Kenya, Studio 541 Auckland, New Zealand 2019 Six Tribes, Blank Wall Gallery Athens, Greece 2019 Six Tribes, L’Atelier de Pilar Güell Barcelona, Spain 2019 The Hadzabe of Tanzania,Grey Gallery Auckland, New Zealand 2018 The Mentawai of Indonesia, ArtHouse Sydney, Australia 2017 The Mentawai of Indonesia, Studio 541 Auckland, New Zealand 2016 The Hamar of Ethiopia, ThisThat Gallery Auckland, New Zealand 2015 Shades of Otara, Studio One Auckland, New Zealand 2014 The Huli of Papua New Guinea, Allpress Studio Auckland, New Zealand 2014 Colour Nature, Rendezvous Auckland, New Zealand 2013 People of The Balkans, The Photographers' Gallery Napier, New Zealand GROUP 2026 Pop-up collective, Galerie Frank Wien, Austria 2025 Winter Solstice, Griffin Museum of Photography Boston, USA 2025 Travel, Blank Wall Gallery Athens, Greece 2024 Indian Photo Festival, State Gallery of Art Hyderabad, India 2023 Portraits, Blank Wall Gallery Athens, Greece 2023 Budapest Inter national Foto Awards, Budapest, Hungary 2022 Prix de la Photographie de Paris, Espace Beaurepaire Paris, France 2022 Winter Solstice, Griffin Museum of Photography Boston, USA 2022 Vienna International Photo Awards exhibition, Austria 2022 Portraits, Glasgow Gallery of Photography, UK 2022 Still Life, Blank Wall Gallery Athens, Greece 2022 The Portrait, Praxis Gallery Minneapolis, USA 2022 Shoot The Face, State Art Gallery Hyderabad, India 2022 Photographers for Ukraine, Incubator Lisbon, Portugal 2022 International Street Photography, Glasgow Gallery of Photography, UK 2021 6th Biennial of Fine Art & Documentary, FotoNostrum Barcelona, Spain 2021 International Photography Awards, Shatto Gallery Los Angeles, USA 2021 Budapest International Photo Awards, Budapest, Hungary 2021 Tales of the Unwritten, Stelio Crise State Library Trieste, Italy 2021 International Juried Exhibition, Centre for Photographic Art, Carmel California, USA 2021 After Dark, Praxis Gallery Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA 2020 Winter Solstice, Griffin Museum of Photography Boston, USA 2020 GZ-Basel, Virtual exhibition, Basel, Switzerland 2020 First Place, Portraits, Florida Museum of Photographic Arts Tampa, USA 2020 The Portrait, Praxis Gallery Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA 2020 The Golden Hour, Auburn Art Gallery Los Angeles, USA 2019 Portraits, Glasgow Gallery of Photography, Scotland, UK 2019 Monochrome, PH21 Gallery Budapest, Hungary 2019 Members Show, Florida Museum of Photographic Arts Tampa, USA 2019 Postcards, Jarvis Dooney Gallery Berlin, Germany 2019 Jurors' Exhibition, Chania International Photo Festival, Greece 2019 Faces of the World, Ferencvárosi Művelődési Központ Budapest, Hungary 2019 SE Members Show, SE Center of Photography, South Carolina, USA 2018 Wanderlust, Galerie Sehnsucht Rotterdam, The Netherlands 2018 London Photo Festival, The Crypt London, UK 2018 LCAP Annual Exhibition, LA Centre of Photography, USA 2018 Atlas of Humanity, Photokina Fair Cologne, Germany 2018 Portraits, Blank Wall Gallery Athens, Greece 2018 Travel, PhotoPlace Gallery Middlebury Vermont, USA 2017 London Photo Festival, The Crypt London, UK 2017 Show Your World, Gallery MC New York, USA 2016 Portrait Salon, Reminders Photography Stronghold Gallery Tokyo, Japan 2015 MIFA Foto Awards, Na Kashirke Gallery Moscow, Russia 2015 UK Portrait Salon, The Embassy Tea Gallery London, UK 2013 The Story of The Creative, See Exhibition Space New York, USA see exhibitions in situ > see tear sheets > see About >

Guy Needham is noted for his international work, primarily drawing on themes of identity and place within cultural narratives. His images have been exhibited in New York, London, Paris, Berlin, Barcelona, Tokyo and Athens. ABOUT Guy Needham’s inquisitive worldview was shaped by growing up in rural New Zealand in the 1970s. Today he is noted for his international work with indigenous tribes, primarily drawing on themes of identity and place within cultural narratives. His work is a hybrid of photographic genres, sitting somewhere between documentary and portraiture. The simplicity of his pared-down style has been described as having both a quiet intensity and a subtle momentum. His images have been exhibited in New York, London, Paris, Berlin, Rome, Barcelona, Tokyo, and Athens, and been seen on the pages of National Geographic Traveler, CNN.com, Lonely Planet, SUITCASE Magazine, International Traveler, Portrait Magazine and AFAR. see exhibitions in situ > GET IN TOUCH guy@guyneedham.com +64 2164 5600 CONTACT CONTACT for print sales and media enquiries First Name Last Name Email Type your message here... Submit Thanks for submitting!

Guy Needham is an international photographer noted for his work with indigenous tribes, who primarily draws on themes of culture, identity and place. The Dani of Papua The Dani of Papua The Dani of Papua The Dani of Papua

Articles ARTICLES 19 Mar 2024 Why Bluff is the New Hotspot you must Visit New Zealand Herald The town known for those fat juicy you-know-whats, and the place where every New Zealand fundraising ride / walk / tour seems to end, is having a modern-day renaissance. Bluff is one of the oldest settlements in New Zealand but rather than resting on its oyster laurels its quickly becoming a destination of its own. Read More 5 Mar 2024 Cruising down the Highway 35 New Zealand Herald I first saw it through a 1973 Holden Belmont station wagon’s smoke-stained window. Staring back at 11-year-old me was a blue and yellow sign: ‘Pig Dog Training School / Bookbinder’. Located just outside of Torere, Joshua Kauta’s iconic landmark still stands, symbolising the next 300 kilometres. Known yet mysterious, friendly yet wary, this is the East Coast. Read More 8 Nov 2023 A Spell in Salem New Zealand Herald “Salem has 400 years of history, yet all people want to talk about was the single worst year we ever had”. Our gregarious Witch City Walking Tour guide, Sean, with tongue firmly planted in cheek, introduced us to what put this Massachusetts town on the map – the Salem Witch Trials. Read More 25 Oct 2023 Falling for New England New Zealand Herald As the road softly curved under a canopy of maples, rusty reds and golden yellows tumbled to the ground. A solitary man, belt braces strapped over his checked shirt, stood out against the wall of crimson trees. Tailgate down on his Chevy pickup, twin American flags bookending his sign, his bottles of homemade liquid sweetness magnified the sun’s rays. Read More 9 Aug 2023 Hidden Gisborne New Zealand Herald The runway was approaching and we still didn’t have clearance. We’d reduced speed but the control tower was looming closer. Suddenly we got the green light. “There it is,” pointed Geoff, “Up in the tower”. Sure enough, a green light beamed back at us, permission to continue on the railway that cuts through Gisborne’s airport. Read More 13 Oct 2019 Barcelona Nights New Zealand Herald “Li-ber-tat! Li-ber-tat!” The chant was sweeping across the square like a Catalan wave. The crowd ignored the soaring heat to remind the world that their pro-independence leaders were still in exile or jail. “Libertat-del-presos-politics!!” Read More 21 Aug 2019 Disappointing a Nun New Zealand Herald Vasillia gently touched my arm and leant in. “You are an Orthodox at heart,” she whispered, her eyes lighting up. “Yes, yes, I can see it inside you!” For the first time in my life I had to disappoint a nun. Read More 11 Dec 2018 Kenya's Lion Warriors New Zealand Herald "Um, aren’t we a little low?!” shouted my fellow passenger over the Cessna’s engine. She was right of course, we were only 50 metres above the ground and below us impala were scattering everywhere. “No, of course not,” I reassured her while secretly enjoying a personal ‘Out of Africa’ moment as she gripped the armrest. Read More 24 Oct 2017 The Mentawai of Indonesia New Zealand Herald “Hold on, I just need to scrape something off…” My guide had removed his gumboot and was reaching for a knife. Slowly he sliced the blade down his leg to remove the blood sucking leech that had attached itself to him. “Welcome to Mentawai!” he said with a broad grin. Read More 12 Jun 2017 Guiding Principles New Zealand Herald Even the most ardent solo traveller at some stage will need a guide - someone who knows their cantons from their arrondissements better than you do. I’ve used more than 20 guides around the world, from well-known tour companies to random taxi drivers, so here are a few simple tips that might help you out. Read More 2 May 2017 Where the Ocean meets the Sky New Zealand Herald “In the olden days,” began Apinelu, a tone of longing in his voice, “it was never this hot. Never. Now everything has changed, not just the sea.” It was a very still 33° and my earlobes were sweating. Welcome to the small island nation of Tuvalu. Read More 3 May 2016 Deep in the Heart of Texas New Zealand Herald Y’all not from round here, are ya? Ain’t nobody drinks Budddd. This is Shiner Bock country, sir.” And with that the barman passed over a golden-labelled bottle of ale. I was in Luckenbach, Texas, population 3, a small town in the Hill Country west of San Antonio. Read More 12 Jan 2016 Better than a Band Aid New Zealand Herald “Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, cause every little thing, gonna be al-riiight…” It seemed only appropriate that Bob Marley blared out the front of the pick-up as we bounced along the dirt road. After all, this was the country of Emperor Haile Selassie, recognised by Rastafarians as the Massiah of African Redemption and head of their religion. Read More 5 Feb 2015 Off-grid Ocean Journey New Zealand Herald “When the alarm goes you grab this,” Officer Cadet Dusan said as he pointed to my lifejacket. “And this.” An orange survival suit. “We muster on C Deck, starboard side.” I didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing that my welcome was bringing up Titanic-like thoughts. Read More 14 Apr 2009 Morocco in Focus New Zealand Herald When you're in Morocco colour is inescapable. The contrasts, hues and shades that make up this North African country are evident from the moment you land. Travelling through the country is an unbelievably vivid experience, an intoxicating blend of colours, photo opportunities mixed with spicy smells and the strange sounds of a foreign land. Read More see tear sheets >

The runway was approaching and we still didn’t have clearance. We’d reduced speed but the control tower was looming closer. Suddenly we got the green light. “There it is,” pointed Geoff, “Up in the tower”. Sure enough, a green light beamed back at us, permission to continue on the railway that cuts through Gisborne’s airport. < Back Hidden Gisborne New Zealand Herald 9 Aug 2023 The runway was approaching and we still didn’t have clearance. We’d reduced speed but the control tower was looming closer. Suddenly we got the green light. “There it is,” pointed Geoff, “Up in the tower”. Sure enough, a green light beamed back at us, permission to continue on the railway that cuts through Gisborne’s airport. Geoff was a guard aboard Wa165, the only remaining Wa class steam locomotive in the world. As President of the Gisborne City Vintage Railway, over the clack clacks he shared the history of an engine that first ran when Queen Victoria reigned. After years of neglect, it was lovingly restored by rail enthusiasts and now plies its route as one of Gisborne’s hidden treasures. “You’ll want to see this,” Geoff nodded ahead. We started to slow as the Waipaoa River Bridge came into view. Passing over the longest rail bridge in the North Island made for a vintage scene before picking up steam through the fields to Muriwai. Once the train had safely stopped it was the kids’ time – selfies lying in front of the cowcatcher and oohs and ahs as they clambered into the cab under the watchful eye of the driver. John the fireman (in a steam train sense) took me through the stats: half a tonne of coal, 4,000 litres of water, and a whole lot of levers to get the three carriages here and back. As a trainee driver, it was his job to manage the ‘run around’ – when the engine is shifted to the ‘rear’ of the train in order to lead the way home backwards. As we rumbled back to the city and scenic views gave way to urban landscape, the piercing whistle reminded cars that a 200-tonne train was headed their way. At journey’s end Wa165 braked to a stop and 150 beaming faces disembarked. Quite conveniently the railway depot is just a five-minute walk from New Zealand’s oldest independent brewery. The home of Gisborne Gold, Sunshine Brewing is a boutique brewery, pizzeria and off-licence all wrapped into one. Kahu was there to greet me, passionately explaining what it takes to create such locally-inspired drops as Life’s a Peach, Pipeline Pilsner and Stockies, before generously pouring me a tasting flight from a selection of their 20 tap beers. Spilling out onto the patio was a melting pot of jandals and John Bulls, mullets and bangs. Spilling out onto the patio was a melting pot of jandals and John Bulls, mullets and bangs. Piping hot pizzas landed with ice-cold pints as beer-matching is an art here: Rip Tide pizza accompanied by Mahia Pale Ale, slices of Shore Break with the award-winning No Access East Coast hazy IPA. As I left it was obvious that the locals appreciate it too as ‘double dozens’ were carried off to be sipped elsewhere. Tūranganui-a-Kiwa has always had an active arts scene so it was exciting to come across Toi Ake. Located in the Ballance Street Village, its teardrop banner gave little away. Randomly popping in I was welcomed by co-founder Henare Brooking (Ngati Porou, Rongowhakaata), himself a painter, tā moko, pounamu and paraoa (whalebone) artist. “We wanted to create a hub for local artists to work from, a place where they could grow their art”. Now one of the country’s leading Māori art studios, the gallery features work from across the motu. Paintings and prints cover the walls. Carvings look down and sculptures stand proud. While the front of Toi Ake is a gallery, it was out back where the action was taking place. One of the five full-time tā moko artists was carefully applying fresh ink to a client’s ankle; the concentration was evident. On the other side of town, there was a different sort of concentration: wild stingrays. 24 years ago diver and underwater cameraman Dean Savage was befriended by a curious stingray, planting the seed for what is now Dive Tatapouri’s Ecology Reef tour. Today these kaitiaki of the ocean, sacred to the area, feel the vibrations of people from all over the world who have come to interact with them in their natural environment. Thorough safety briefing done (“avoid the barbs”), waders on and pole in hand, we entered the reef at low tide. My partner's trepidation quickly evaporated as Stevie Ray glided up beside her. Graceful, serene, Stevie Ray investigated the line of legs before being joined by eagle rays Aroha and Rachael. Our guide Matt handed out bait. “When you go to feed them take your hand right to the bottom, all the way down – their mouths are under their body.” Aroha came up to my partner’s hand and sucked the food in like a soft vacuum, despite pushy kahawai trying to get in on the action. Matt was encouraging: “Go ahead, gently stroke them if you like.” I nodded affirmatively as if I was a marine biologist. A hand went into the water and the report came back: slimy but cool. Soon it was our turn for lunch and the city’s inner harbour beckoned. Years ago, when I was wearing Nomads at Gisborne Boys’ High, the Kaiti Freezing Works was a major employer in Tairāwhiti. Today the only remaining building is a gable-roofed structure that houses one of Gisborne’s best eateries, The Works. With an industrial-meets-casual vibe that wouldn’t be out of place on Ponsonby Road, the brick restaurant is less ‘hidden’ and more ‘destination’. Like many a hospitality venue over the summer post-COVID, it has been “smashed as”, but you wouldn’t know it judging by what was coming out of the kitchen. Cradled in a halved brioche was my Pork Belly Karaage, a perfectly coated tonkatsu topped with honey soy sauce… which instantly got ‘shared’ with uninvited forks. The Orecchiette Pasta was nearly enough for two: prawns sitting atop lemon pangrattato and thinly sliced zucchini. There was no need for dessert, tempting as it looked. It’s a little-known fact that the National Arboretum of New Zealand is… in Gisborne. To be accurate, the arboreal ark that is Eastwoodhill is a 30min drive away through the Ngatapa valley. Upon arriving I instantly regretted not putting more time aside to see the largest collection of northern hemisphere trees in this part of the world. Autumn sees the 100-year-old gardens come alive, a deciduous cloak of orange fluttering upon a bed of needles and cones. Another little-known fact: it's not only the Giant Panda and Bizarre-nosed Chameleon that make the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species; Eastwoodhill helps protect over 150 threatened or endangered trees on the list. We took the Yellow Walk to see them, zig-zagging through the woodlands before the scent of eucalyptus led us to The Cathedral. Originally an outline of Westminster Abbey planted in Lawson cypress, the enchanting smell comes from the tallest tree in the arboretum. There is something soul-fulfilling in walking amongst giants and my partner couldn’t help but say hello to the trees in their native language: “Konnichi wa” “Ni hao” “Hola” ”Bonjour”. The arboretum isn’t all exotics though; there are plenty of natives for the kids to learn about if you can tear them away from the carved lion. The fading sunlight was our cue to head down the road to our final destination, Gisborne Astro Tours. Pulling up outside a paddock and a large portacabin shed, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Our host, John Drummond (MSc Astronomy, Fellow of the Royal Astronomical Society of New Zealand) strolled out to meet us, extending his hand like we were old friends and inviting us inside. As we took a seat John explained how we were in a perfect position: zero light pollution and the best view of the universe. As he started his interactive 30-minute presentation I realised that this astro-scientist was the epitome of Gizzy: friendly, knowledgeable, enthusiastic and authentic. Nebulae, clusters, supernovae, constellations - it was (excuse the pun) all so clear now. John put up with my inane questions (“Why did Pluto get demoted?”) with the skill of a science teacher and the patience of a saint. Then it was time to see the real thing. Leading us out past wool-shedding Wiltshire sheep, John disappeared through a low door before popping up to roll back the roof of his custom-built observatory, revealing two large Newtonian Reflector telescopes. This is where stargazing guests spend most of their time, marvelling at the celestial worlds before them until reluctantly having to share the eyepiece. As we were leaving John casually mentioned Gisborne Astro Tours’ Introductory Course to Astronomy: six lectures over six weeks focusing on how to use the telescope, astrophotography and solar system viewings. Humble as he was, I think it’s one part of the Gisborne experience that doesn’t deserve to be hidden. Details Getting there: Air New Zealand flies from Auckland and Wellington on a daily basis to Gisborne Gisborne City Vintage Railway: www.gcvr.org.nz Sunshine Brewing: www.sunshinebrewing.co.nz Toi Ake gallery: www.toiake.art The Works: www.theworksgisborne.co.nz Reef Ecology Stingray tour: www.divetatapouri.com Eastwoodhill Arboretum: www.eastwoodhill.org.nz Gisborne Astro Tours: www.gisborneastrotours.com Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >

We clap our hands for many things, but until this year I’d never actually applauded the sun going down – that is, until I was at Ipanema. < Back Brazil Rediscovered Que Magazine 26 Apr 2011 We clap our hands for many things, but until this year I’d never actually applauded the sun going down – that is, until I was at Ipanema. In homage to a certain tall and tan and young and lovely girl, I was at this iconic beach to see the Procession of Lemanja, an African-Brazilian religious pilgrimage to honour the god of the sea. Often dwarfed by Rio de Janeiro’s New Year celebrations, the festivities involve women clothed in white, throwing flowers into the incoming tide as they try to avoid the crashing waves. As more and more locals and tourists gathered on the cliffs above to watch, we lifted our heads to take in the last rays of sunlight. When the big orange ball finally disappeared below the horizon, spontaneous applause broke out and you just couldn’t help joining in. It was, after all, a dazzling display in the world’s sexiest city. While Ipanema’s golden sands are the playgrounds of the rich, beautiful and occasionally sunburnt, locals prefer its more famous neighbour. Amongst the bikini-clad bodies on Copacabana, are kids from the favellas, who just want to play in the waves like you and I used to do. Brazil is massive – bigger than mainland United States – so for this trip I’d limited myself to Rio de Janeiro, Iguassu and Sao Paulo: the fifth largest metropolis in the world with a teeming 20,000,000 people.Away from Rio’s ubiquitous hotel towers are its less visited old suburbs, including Santa Teresa, best explored by taking the creaking bonde tram. As we rattled through the cobblestone streets, the beats of 1960s bossa nova echoed out beyond the grilled windows, the rhythm of samba tempting us to sway. But something else beckoned more strongly – the all-encompassing arms of Cristo Redentor. In a country that has the largest Roman Catholic population in the world, this iconic statue is more than just a tourist attraction. Built in the 1920s, on the top of the Corcovado Mountain, the monument towers 700 metres above the city and offers breathtaking panoramas. A word of advice: the best views are early in the morning, before the mist and clouds roll in. It was mist of a different sort that we encountered at Iguassu Falls. Taking a jungle boat to the edge of Garganta do Diablo, ‘The Devil’s Throat’, we were swallowed up by a thunderous spray that soaked us to the skin. The rapid thrill of the wash gave way to the click of cameras as we neared the plummeting 200 foot falls. It’s worth dedicating time to see the 270 odd falls from both the Brazilian and Argentinian sides. Surprisingly, it wasn’t just the almighty falls that were a highlight; the animals that call Iguassu home were simply stunning. Never before had I seen so many beautiful butterflies resting on a shallow pond; nor seen a bird look at me quizzically, as if to ask “what do you want?”; or a family of raccoon-like coati casually wandering down the main track. After a sweltering day of 35 degree heat and 100% humidity it was time to return to town for a cooling caipirinha, the national cocktail of Brazil. Although Rio is the best known and Brasilia is the capital, it is the powerhouse city of Sao Paulo that makes the Brazil go round. ‘Sampa’ (as the locals call it) is like a city on steroids. With five times the population of New Zealand, it also has over 5,000 high-rise buildings, is the 10th richest city in the world and has the largest fleet of helicopters on the planet. I was even invited into the cockpit of one for sale on the 6th floor of a shopping mall. My companion wanted to get away from the concrete jungle so first stop was Ibirapuera Park. Walking around the lakes you’d have little idea that across the way was one of the biggest cities in the world. The locals obviously love it, judging by the amount of cycling, rollerblading and skateboarding going on. The stylised street art on the walls of the Museum of Modern Art adds a real sense of fun to the park. 'Sampa’ is like a city on steroids. With five times the population of New Zealand, it also has the largest fleet of helicopters on the planet. It was a little late when we decided to visit the bohemian suburb of Vila Madalena. As we got out of the car, once again, the sound of music caught our attention. This time we decided to follow the sound. We stumbled across the back alley where the music was coming from – a samba school practising for Carnival! It only cost a few reais to enter and suddenly we found ourselves literally swept up in the madness of drums, dancing, flags and whoop-whooping. The beats went on and on, with everyone joining in, until it was one huge, carefree moving mass of hands in the air. When the samba finally finished and we got our breath back, it was time to eat al fresco. Within minutes we had two waiters fussing over a hotplate placed on our table. We were to have churrasco beef, cooked in front of us, washed down with a couple of cervejas. It looked and smelt good. Thinking back now, that dish on a warm summer night was a metaphor for Brazil - massive, tasty, colourful and slightly unexpected. The perfect way to end a trip to South America. Top 5 not-so-known Brazilian activities Eat: For something different try dinner-by-the-kilo at Ipanema. Fresh vegetables, salads and cut meats to put on your plate before taking them up to scales to weigh and pay Exercise: Hire a bike and pedal the 7ks around Rio de Janeiro’s Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas. When you want a break buy one of the coconuts with straws in them and sip the cool milk (they actually call it water, not milk, but that’s OK. Maybe “milky” water is better - it’s not like Fijian coconuts) Leave: Grab a taxi and cross the border to spend a day on the Argentinian side of Iguassu Falls. Don’t forget your passport and you’ll need Pesos before you cross. Ask for Jair of Sindtaxi Visit: Although the outskirts of Rio are being cleaned up, you can still go on an organised tour in the safer parts of the city. Like anywhere, be aware of your surroundings Shop: If you’re in the market for a new 55ft cruiser or 6-seater helicopter, try Toys & Tools in Sao Paulo. For a measly few million, you too could be hovering over the city. < Previous Next >

Oh my god, he’s going to do it!” screeched the American teenager to my left. Sure enough with a quick wave to the crowd, a furtive glance downwards and a tuck of the pants, over he leapt. One of Mostar’s bridge-jumpers had just taken the plunge into the icy Neretva River below. I’d just witnessed something that wasn’t possible two decades before. < Back Leap of Faith The Press 12 Feb 2013 Oh my god, he’s going to do it!” screeched the American teenager to my left. Sure enough with a quick wave to the crowd, a furtive glance downwards and a tuck of the pants, over he leapt. One of Mostar’s bridge-jumpers had just taken the plunge into the icy Neretva River below. I’d just witnessed something that wasn’t possible two decades before. In 1992 the Bosnian town of Mostar, until then a peaceful mix of Muslims, Serbs and Croats, self-imploded; a microcosm of all that went wrong in the former Yugoslavia. Neighbours who had fought a common enemy turned on each other. The pointlessness was summed up by one act: the destruction of Stari Most – Mostar’s old bridge which had stood for over 500 years was destroyed by Bosnian Croat shells. I was in BiH (Bosnia & Herzegovina) to see how the country had progressed since the Bosnian War. What I found was a vibrant, friendly culture and people that only respected, but also remembered, the past. “Never Forget ‘93” is painted on a rock. Bombed out buildings house trees where once windows were. Cemeteries have the same year on the headstones. And yet, the country is warily finding its own way in the world and once again attracting visitors. While Mostar itself is a relatively small town it is one of the most visited in the Balkans. Known for its alley of coppersmiths, where the sons and daughters of coppersmiths before them have toiled, the ‘clang clang clang’ nearly drowns out the Europop wafting like the smell of burnt coffee. “I have been here with my brother for 17 years,” said one proud artisan. “We started after we stopped fighting. These are the tools of my father”. Showing me his family symbol on the bottom of a plate, he demonstrated how each tool creates a different indent while explaining that “imported stuff in other stores could never be pretty”. I walked away with a copper bowl, a shiny, hand-crafted, story-infused memory of Bosnia. The memory most of us have of Bosnia of course is the nightly news 20 years ago, dominated by Sarajevo. For nearly four years the city was under siege, surrounded by Bosnian Serbs who wanted it as part of a Greater Serbia. Today in The Hague sit those being tried for war crimes for the shelling and snipers that made Sarajevo unliveable. Zig-zagging across the street for fear of being shot. Queues for water and bread. Every tree cut down for firewood. And football fields converted to graveyards. When the 1993 Ms Sarajevo contestants held up a banner saying “Don’t let them kill us”, they were crying out to the world. When the 1993 Ms Sarajevo contestants held up a banner saying “Don’t let them kill us”, they were crying out to the world. The city had one way in and one way out, a tunnel to the UN-protected airport. We decided to tour it.It wasn’t long before our tour guide was on the verge of tears. She apologised for her emotion and had to stop at the tunnel entrance. “We found out our friends had died because they didn’t come to school. I had many friends… die. It was very sad to be 8 and lose friends”. Her English was broken but not because she didn’t speak fluently. 11,541 civilians were killed in the siege. Today’s Sarajevo is a symbol of resilience, buzzing with tourists-a-plenty. Its pedestrianised areas are filled with chain stores. Old men play chess, young couples kiss passionately and kids cry over spilt gelato. The charm of the old town is still there with restaurants serving up shots of rakia (40% distilled alcohol) and hot plates of cevapi, a moreish grilled lamb dish in open kebab bread. < Previous Next >

I was warned about getting shot in Colombia. The balaclava, reflective sunglasses and combat fatigues in the southern city of Pasto were a giveaway. I should have just run. Instead, I'm hit twice - not with bullets but with white foam shooting out of a canister by a 12-year old boy shouting “Viva Pasto!” < Back Colour in the Streets Get Lost Magazine 6 Apr 2018 I was warned about getting shot in Colombia. The balaclava, reflective sunglasses and combat fatigues in the southern city of Pasto were a giveaway. I should have just run. Instead, I'm hit twice - not with bullets but with white foam shooting out of a canister by a 12-year old boy shouting “Viva Pasto!” That gushing “spssstttttttt” was my intro to El Carnaval de Negros y Blancos (Black and Whites' Carnaval), a five day party held in January that just happens to be the world’s biggest foam fight. The Carnaval is the loudest, longest and messiest festival in southern Colombia, and a real celebration of cultures. To be fair, at the time the trigger is pulled I’m distracted by street vendors yelling, “Some goggles for you, senõr ? A sombrero, cheap?”Now I understand why. Of course, in truehorse-bolted fashion, I purchase a ridiculouslyoversized sombrero and a ‘foam-proof’ poncho to protect myself. Post splatter, I sheepishly make my way back to the hotel. The security-conscious manager, Jaime, is waiting behind a locked door. Letting me in with a chuckle, he looks at me with pity. “You got shot on your first day?! Bienvenido a Colombia! ” After cleaning myself up, I cautiously head towards Plaza del Carnaval, the main square of Pasto and the centrepiece of all things Carnaval. My peripheral vision is working overtime – it seems like every second person is armed with a carioca, an aluminium foam canister, cocked at the ready. Squeezing in next to a family, I proudly introduce myself in halting Spanish, adding “ Viva Pasto!” as if it is some sort of protective cloak. We are jostling among the thousands who have gathered to celebrate La Familia Castañeda – a colourful family who, when they arrived in Pasto in 1929, walked smack-bang into the middle of a horse parade and started randomly waving to the crowd. The Castañeda family became so popular they now have a dedicated parade in their honour. The vibe is electric. We cheer on the performers dressed in 1920s attire as they dance and sing their way past the masses, their vibrant costumes lighting up the parade like the hot Colombian sun. The performance is barely finished before I am hit with foam again, but this time it gets me in the mouth. In an attempt to escape, I hurtle down the main street and find myself at a security checkpoint to a concert, being pat down by a member of the policia. What an entry to Colombia I’ve made. I decide to take it all in my festival-stride and finish the night with a chorizo and a few local Poker pale ales. The next morning Jamie intercepts me as I’m leaving to hit the streets on day four of the Carnaval. “Hey, you got Vaseline?” he whispers. It seems like an oddly personal question. “Huh?” I reply. “Your face,” he says, “the Vaseline, to get grease off.” This is his not-so-subtle way of warning me that it is Dia de Negros (Day of the Blacks). This event marks the day African slaves were freed, and it’s now celebrated with partygoers taking to the streets with black paint smeared across their faces as a sign of respect, symbolising the unity between all ethnicities. My peripheral vision is working overtime – it seems like every second person is armed with a carioca Paint decorates the faces of the masses, and before long I realise I should have taken his advice and packed the Vaseline. My own face gets smudged and I’m greeted back to the hotel with a shake of the head and a smile from Jamie sending a telepathic ‘I told you so’. The pinnacle of the Carnaval is the Grand Parade that falls on Dia de Blancos (The Day of the Whites). This is the cause of all the foam, flour bombs and talcum powder, but before the war starts, a spectacular kaleidoscope of floats takes to the streets. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The floats are covered in colourful and intricate details, and showers of confetti and streamers rain down as tiers of performers dance atop the four-storey-high structures. Cumbia rhythms blast from massive speakers and mechanical heads roar and bob about to the beat alongside the larger-than-life costumedcharacters who dance the streets lined with an enthusiastic crowd. I feel a hand close around my arm and I’m pulled towards a woman. It’s La Lloronda , the legendary ghost who steals children, and she is not to be denied. Doing my best not to look uncoordinated, we salsa Cali-style, spinning and twirling throughout the parade to the sound of laughter, cheers and applause from my fellow spectators. After five hours the show finally comes to an end. Looking around, there is now more white stuff on the ground than in any episode of Narcos. The foam battles have already started up again so I’m pretty grateful there is only 200 metres between my hotel room and my location. Not close enough, it would seem. The powder hits me square on the ear, and it’s impossible not to grin from that one to the other. “ Arriba Pasto! ” Details Get there: Qantas flies to Santiago, Chile, and then take connecting flights on Latam or Avianca from Santiago to Bogota to Pasto www.qantas.com . It is best to arrange a transfer in advance from the airport to your hotel, which should cost approximately 40,000 Colombian Pesos ($18) for the 45min ride. Wear a seatbelt. Stay there: The Hotel Boutique Casa Lopez is perfectly placed between the Plaza del Carnaval and Plaza de Narino – a more casual fun square. The hotel is built in the Spanish style, with restaurant on site, free wi-fi throughout, friendly staff and a relaxed atmosphere. www.facebook.com/hotelcasalopezpasto or on www.Booking.com . Four nights cost 858,000 Colombian Pesos ($377 Tour there: Your hotel manager can arrange local guides, and it’s probably the best way to go as they know their reputation depends on it. You don’t need a guide to the festival, and best of all it’s free. Just get there early and buy a plastic stool off the vendors. Get Informed: Check out Off2Colombia as starting point www.off2colombia.com . The best site about the Carnaval has detail of what to expect every day and is… only in Spanish. Get the Google Translate extension for Chrome or Safari and check out www.carnavaldepasto.org Get in the Know Pablo Escobar was arrested in Pasto when he was caught smuggling 18 kilos of cocaine into Colombia from Peru in truck tires The local culinary delicacy is Guinea Pig, ‘cuy’, which tends to be available roasted. Mmmmmmm. Pasto was founded by the Spanish conquistador Sebastián de Belalcázar in 1537 as he plundered his way south Road rules are more a ‘guide’ as taxi drivers play chicken with petrol tankers on the mountain roads 8000 feet above sea level Near Pasto is the spectacular Las Lajas Sanctuary, a gothic bridge-church built on the site of an apparition of the Virgin Mary. Original publication: Get Lost Magazine < Previous Next >

“Li-ber-tat! Li-ber-tat!” The chant was sweeping across the square like a Catalan wave. The crowd ignored the soaring heat to remind the world that their pro-independence leaders were still in exile or jail. “Libertat-del-presos-politics!!” < Back Barcelona Nights New Zealand Herald 13 Oct 2019 “Li-ber-tat! Li-ber-tat!” The chant was sweeping across the square like a Catalan wave. The crowd ignored the soaring heat to remind the world that their pro-independence leaders were still in exile or jail. “Libertat-del-presos-politics!!” But we weren’t here for the politicians; we were waiting for one of city’s most anticipated traditions - the Castellers de Barcelona. Dating back to the 1800s, these human towers originated in southern Spain and have been gleefully adopted by Catalonia. “Do you think we’ll become part of the foundations?!” chuckled my new American crowd-friend. Before I could answer, dozens of mauve-shirted castellers surged forward, pushing us apart. As they jostled into position, the big men lined up in four directions to form a base. Like an organic mass of human endeavour the climbing began. Feet on shoulders, hands on sashes, arms on waists. Squinting up, we could make out a young girl in a red helmet scrambling towards the top. The crowd was told to shush. Plaça de Sant Juame fell silent as we held our collective breath. Then there she was, eight levels up raising her hand at the top of the castell, and the cheering erupted again. This was, after all, the peak of La Mercè. La Mercè is Barcelona’s ‘festival of festivals’, a tribute to the Patron Saint Virgen de La Mercè who is credited with ending a plague of locusts upon the city. What began as a religious observation in the Middle Ages is now a heady mix of street theatre, dance, music and pyrotechnics with over 2,000 performers taking part. I was one of approximately 1.5 million visitors expected over the five-day festival, and being the geek I am I downloaded the app, threw on some walking shoes and off I went. The wide-ranging schedule meant killing time between the afternoon and night activities but luckily I had two Spanish friends to keep me company in the sun-drenched Plaça Reial – Señor Paella and Señorita Cerveza… The crowd was told to shush. Plaça de Sant Juame fell silent as we held our collective breath. Well-rested after a few hours of listening to live music, I left for the next event with some trepidation. The waiter’s words were ringing in my ears: “You are going to wear protection, si?” Walking briskly to the closed-off Via Laietana I could feel the energy rising in the dusky air; the Correfoc de la Mercè was about to begin. Bang, BANG! A gang of silhouetted devils and fire-breathing dragons danced towards us, spouting flames and tossing fireworks. I realised too late why I needed protection, as sparks shot out from the devils’ pitchforks and landed in my hair. Owwww. The smoke, the sparklers and the drums made the fire-run totally addictive and very surreal – somewhat apt in the city of Gaudi. Of course, Gaudi and Barcelona are nearly always mentioned in the same breath. It’s hard to walk the Catalonian cobblestones and not be in awe of his curvy creations. While not officially part of La Mercè, the night experience at Gaudi’s La Pedrera certainly should be. La Padrera is Spanish for ‘the quarry’, which reflects the amount of stone used in building this monumental house that is officially known as Casa Milla. Constructed between 1906-1912, it was Gaudi’s last building before he spent the rest of his life working on La Sagrada Familia (un-fun fact: Gaudi was killed by a tram). The smoke, the sparklers and the drums made the fire-run totally addictive and very surreal. As expected, La Pedrera brings to life Gaudi’s fascination with marrying nature to architecture: an attic shaped as the spine of a whale, pillars based on palm trees, water tanks in the form of snails and balconies that look like seaweed on waves. The non-linear lines and organic shapes continue all the way up to the rooftop terrace where the night illumination begins. In true Gaudi style he didn’t just create chimneys, he created warriors. And it’s on these rooftop warriors that a 20 minute audio-visual show projects the rise and fall of civilisations, the immensity of space and the origins of life itself. Noting that the UNESCO-listed building is now run by Catalunya La Pedrera Foundation, our guide explained that, amazingly, below us still lived three families who have tenancy for life – including an elderly lady and her dog that has its own rooms. Suitably impressed post-show we wandered around the terrace, taking one last glance at La Sagrada Familia’s lit towers as sirens faded off in the distance. It was finally time to return to earth, having enjoyed being at Barcelona’s Mercè. Details Getting there: Fly to Barcelona via Singapore La Mercè festival: Held annually around 24th September, child-friendly and free Other activities: Guadi, paella, shopping, flamenco Visa: No visa is required for New Zealand nationals for stays up to 90 days. Travel tip: Book tickets for all museums and Gaudi buildings well in advance. Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >

A pencil case, keeper of memories and three-way pens, lives in that no-mans-land of utilitarian nostalga and scholastic glory. In Lisbon, a city known for its leatherwork, a pencil case is much more than a convenient carrier; it’s a culmination of artisanal training, pre-cut patterns and naked flame. < Back The making of a pencil case Substack 10 Oct 2025 A pencil case, keeper of memories and three-way pens, lives in that no-mans-land of utilitarian nostalga and scholastic glory. In Lisbon, a city known for its leatherwork, a pencil case is much more than a convenient carrier; it’s a culmination of artisanal training, pre-cut patterns and naked flame. Half-way up the cobblestoned Rua Arco de Graca, behind the fresh façade of Di Zocco sits Leonardo di Croce, bent over his vintage Pfaff sewing machine, heel-toe technique on full display as the needle pumps furiously. An Argentine native who began leathercrafting with his brother in Buenos Aires, di Croce loosely follows in the footsteps of his cobbler grandfather and leathersmith uncle. Now plying his trade in Portugal, his unfussy shop-cum-studio welcomes visitors with purposely placed samples lining wooden shelves. Out the back, an old fan unevenly oscillates, wafting the soft, homely aroma emanating from a mélange of offcuts. Choosing a piece of leather, di Croce tugs at it tenderly to check for blemishes. Taking a blade to the Portuguese cow hide he traces around a well-worn pattern, carefully pushing against the metal workbench. The outline for the pencil case is deceptively simple – two shapes – versus the more complex ‘Jimmy’ messenger or ‘Sam’ backpack (each bag is named after its first customer). He precisely threads the leather through a thinning skiver, pushing out a smooth bevelled edge on the other side. Transferring glue from large jar to small, he fastidously wipes his hands on his denim apron, before patting down the adhesive using a fine brush. There are no plastic caps or excessive cloth inserts here; Di Croce follows a maxim passed on by another old hand, ‘If it is leather, show the leather.’ Concentration on his face, tongue between his lips, he expertly guides the Gutermann polyester thread along the zip line. Cigarette lighter and micro scissors in hand, di Croce snips and sears off the final loose threads before turning it all inside out. A smooth, rich dark brown, hand-crafted pencil case is revealed, ready to sit on the shelf and be named after the next customer. < Previous Next >

When you're in Morocco colour is inescapable. The contrasts, hues and shades that make up this North African country are evident from the moment you land. Travelling through the country is an unbelievably vivid experience, an intoxicating blend of colours, photo opportunities mixed with spicy smells and the strange sounds of a foreign land. < Back Morocco in Focus New Zealand Herald 14 Apr 2009 When you're in Morocco colour is inescapable. The contrasts, hues and shades that make up this North African country are evident from the moment you land. Travelling through the country is an unbelievably vivid experience, an intoxicating blend of colours, photo opportunities mixed with spicy smells and the strange sounds of a foreign land. No photograph can ever capture the chorus of mosques in evening prayer. And even when the camera does freeze some spectacular scene it risks looking unreal. At the edge of the Sahara, the sight of the mighty Erg Chebbi dunes looming over an ancient desert fort, reflected in the mirror of a tranquil oasis, seems too perfect to be true. Similarly, like an elusive mirage on a sea of yellow, the Auberge Yasmina looks impossibly beautiful. Round every corner the images continue. One day I am standing in the stark whiteness of Midelt, feeding nuts to snow-covered Barbary Apes. The next, my eye is caught by a red jellaba framed against the intricate Moorish architecture of Fez. Like an elusive mirage on a sea of yellow, the Auberge Yasmina looked impossibly beautiful. Then there are Essaouira's blue-hued fishing boats, rainbow-coloured rows of shoes, multi-hued piles of spices, pink babouches and palm-fringed Kasbahs all demanding attention. But, above all, it is the people who leave an indelible image. From the curious Berber boy with pre-aged hands to the wary guardian of the medersa, every "Salam a Lakum" opens the door to another room in culture that is best described as proud. Each Moroccan I met knew that they lived in a beautiful part of the world... and who could disagree. Details See visitmorocco.org. Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >