“It’s fair to say that Tuvalu is unlike any other islands you’re likely to visit: small, isolated, beautiful, sleepy and sinking." < Back That Sinking Feeling 2 May 2017 “It’s fair to say that Tuvalu is unlike any other islands you’re likely to visit: small, isolated, beautiful, sleepy and sinking." Guy Needham's latest article about one of the smallest and most low-lying countries in the world, Tuvalu, is the cover story of this week's New Zealand Herald Travel section. < Previous Next >

I think I'm a nun-magnet. Not in a creepy sort of way, but this isn't the first time a sister has made a beeline for me. "I'm a photographer too," said Josette, seeing my cameras, before going on to share that both Pope Francis and Pope John Paul II had visited here. < Back Sieges, Saints, and Salt Pans Sunday Star-Times 20 Sept 2026 I think I'm a nun-magnet. Not in a creepy sort of way, but this isn't the first time a sister has made a beeline for me. "I'm a photographer too," said Josette, seeing my cameras, before going on to share that both Pope Francis and Pope John Paul II had visited here. ‘Here’ was the Shrine of the Blessed Virgin of Ta' Pinu, an impressive basilica rising from the open countryside, and the most important shrine in Gozo. Gozo, located halfway between North Africa and Europe, is one of three islands that make up Malta – along with the island of Malta (confusingly) and tiny Comino. Smaller and greener than its sister island, Gozo moves at a far more laid-back pace. "Have you visited the Ċitadella yet?" asked Josette, playing both spiritual and physical tour guide. As it happened, I had, walking its honey-coloured ramparts that morning for a sweeping view over Gozo's rolling fields. The Citadel, in the heart of the capital Victoria (known as Ir-Rabat in Maltese) can be seen from nearly everywhere on the island, and I'd been driven there by the man now waiting outside for me: Ian, of 'Gozo Taxi by Ian'. A proud Gozitan, Ian had spent the morning giving me a humourous and insightful tour of the island. Picking me up from The Duke Boutique Hotel, our first stop had been the island's most impressive viewpoint, Xlendi (pron. 'Shlen-dee'). With a 17 th century tower standing sentry over an imposing coastline, the view of the limestone cliffs carved by wind was nothing short of awe-inspiring. When I said to Ian that Xlendi would be hard to beat, he just smiled. Driving to the north of the island, he parked us beside 350-year-old salt pans stretching out next to the sea. Climbing the dozen or so steps to the 'salt store', I was lucky enough to meet a fifth-generation salt harvester, who sold me a bag of crystals her family had scraped up over the summer months. With the salt safely stashed in my bag, we headed back across the island to Dwejra's Inland Sea. Connected to the Mediterranean through a tunnel in the cliffs, you can take a 15-minute boat ride into the open sea for some of the best diving around Gozo. Worth knowing: if you're by yourself, you either have to wait for others to arrive or hire an entire boat yourself (and that wait can be a long one). From there, it was on to our final destination of the day: Gozo's – and perhaps Malta's – finest beach, the crescent-shaped Ramla il-Ħamra. Literally meaning 'red-sanded beach’, Ramla is refreshingly free of crowds, and families were making the most of the gentle, warm waters as kids ran around on the rusty red sands. It was a fitting farewell to Gozo. The next morning, I took the 45-minute highspeed ferry to Malta. If Gozo's charm lay in its natural beauty, Malta's lay in something far more dramatic: a history of sieges, knights, and empires. Unfortunately for Malta, geography made it a target. For thousands of years, control of the island meant control of the Mediterranean's sea routes – a prize fought over and claimed by the Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Romans, Arabs, Normans, Spanish, Sicilians, French, and British. But it's the Knights of the Order of St John whose presence still defines the island today. Refugees from the Crusades, the knights had been chased from Jerusalem to Rhodes before finally settling in Malta. It was here, in 1565, that they won their greatest victory: 500 knights and 8,000 Maltese held out against 30,000 Ottomans in the Great Siege of Malta. Leading the defence was 70-year-old Grand Master Jean Parisot de Valette, after whom the capital, Valletta, is named. As an avid history buff, there was one place in Valletta on my ‘must see’ list: the Grand Master's Palace. Once the official residence of the Knights' Grand Masters, it now houses the Office of the President of Malta, along with an impressive medieval armoury. Walking between rows and rows of elaborate armour, mounted swords, and flintlock muskets, I doubt I closed my mouth once – five centuries of warfare lined the walls on either side. Keen to learn about one more siege I headed to The Malta Experience, an audio-visual history of the country. During World War II, Malta endured more bombing than London did in the Blitz, as Germany and Italy tried to force it into submission. Under siege for two and a half years, the island held out until convoys broke through with vital supplies – earning it the George Cross, Britain's highest civilian honour for bravery, which still flies in the corner of the flag today. Walking the streets back to my hotel, I looked up at the colourful gallariji, the enclosed wooden balconies that I'd first noticed on Gozo. I raised my camera to take a photo, then paused, thinking of Josette – wondering what the nun would be photographing next. Originally published in the Suday Star-Times and The Post < Previous Next >

Articles ARTICLES 17 Sept 2026 From Shame to Bond New Zealand Herald “Is this the square?” “Si.” The couple sitting next to me were taking in Piazza San Giovanni, picturing James Bond in his DB5, machine guns blazing as his steely blue resolve and bullet-proof glass got him out of another sticky situation... Read More 20 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 >

Articles by Guy Needham in international magazines and newspapers. Articles ARTICLES 20 Sept 2026 Sieges, Saints, and Salt Pans Sunday Star-Times I think I'm a nun-magnet. Not in a creepy sort of way, but this isn't the first time a sister has made a beeline for me. "I'm a photographer too," said Josette, seeing my cameras, before going on to share that both Pope Francis and Pope John Paul II had visited here. Read More 17 Sept 2026 From Shame to Bond New Zealand Herald “Is this the square?” “Si.” The couple sitting next to me were taking in Piazza San Giovanni, picturing James Bond in his DB5, machine guns blazing as his steely blue resolve and bullet-proof glass got him out of another sticky situation... Read More 2 Aug 2026 Salve Procida Herald on Sunday In one swift motion the taxi driver heaved my suitcase into the boot. “Do not worry, I am strong!” she laughed, flexing her biceps. Sabrina was my unofficial welcomer to Isola di Procida, a 4km2 speck of land in the Gulf of Naples. Read More 23 Jun 2026 Hats off Substack "You're not buying a hat," José told me, turning one over in his hands like he was checking for a pulse. "You're buying a hat that already knows how to be worn." My friend Fernando and I had come in expecting a shop. We were getting a philosophy lesson, and I hadn't even parted with any euros yet. Read More 30 Nov 2025 Viva Valencia Sunday Star-Times “Seriously man, what are you wearing?” My friend Fernando was jacket shaming me in the Valencia arrivals hall, not-so-subtly pointing out how hot it was. “What is wrong with you?!” With mock indignation I removed my jacket – and then proceeded to sweat profusely anyway. Read More 11 Oct 2025 The making of a pencil case Substack 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. Read More 30 Sept 2025 Magical Māpua The Press We’d been in the village for less than half an hour before we were propositioned. Usually, I’m a little wary of strangers inviting me to their house but the tall man in the grey hoodie insisted. “It’s only three minutes away,” he said with a straight face and slight accent. “You should come.” So we slowly followed him down the road. Read More 16 Jun 2025 Opening up Angola The Post My guide turned to me. “I’m lonely,” he said. Oh OK, this is going to be an interesting trip. “No, no, that is my name. My Bantu name is Uliwa which means Lonely. I have no idea why my mother called me that, I have seven brothers and sisters!” And so began a weeklong friendship of Angolan stories and Afropop beats in the cabin of a Hilux. Read More 3 Aug 2024 Asia's overlooked Gem Copy Sunday Star-Times “The Pope, The Pope!” A construction worker was vigourously waving his arms and yelling at me. “The Pope, no entrada!” Seeing my obvious confusion, he came running over and introduced himself by way of tattooed name on his forearm. Pito explained that the attraction I had come to see, was closed, in preparation for a visit from the Pontiff. Read More 20 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 17 Feb 2024 Wayang Kulit Makers of Java The Jungle Journal Indonesia’s centuries-old shadow puppet-making tradition as practiced by artisans today Read More 25 Jan 2024 The Last Great Hunter Gatherers The Travel Almanac The leader reaches in between the freshly cut, drooping skin and through to the open organ cavity. Twisting his hand with a precision that only comes with age, he pulls out the bloody liver. The baboon dripping in front of him will be dinner, and perhaps breakfast, for the four families gathered under the ledge. Read More 15 Dec 2023 A Horim The Travel Almanac Deep in the Baliem Valley of Indonesia’s Papua region, size really does matter. The Dani tribe, first discovered by air in 1938 and still isolated in the mountains today, are known for a particular appendage: the horim. 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 1 Nov 2023 The Land of the Toraja Otago Daily Times As I left the room, I respectfully bowed my head and thanked my host, Tanjkeara. His wife, Francisca, who I had met at a cock fight had invited me into their home, impressing upon me that her husband spoke English, Dutch and Bahasa. As it was Tanjkeara didn’t say much - he hadn’t since he had died three years ago. 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 22 Mar 2022 Palliser and Pinnacles New Zealand Herald “38!!” laughed Alison, when I asked her the population of Ngawi, the small fishing village we’d just set out from. We were aboard the fishing vessel Elan skippered by her husband Andrew, who had generously agreed to take me for ‘a spin around the point’. Read More 26 Jan 2020 Peru Navidad Sunday Star-Times Marden was ashen, it was obvious that the poison was starting to take effect. I knew what would happen next – the toxins making their way into his bloodstream, then his glands and finally hitting his central nervous system. With a small first aid kit there was nothing I could do. Not that he wanted me to. 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 6 Apr 2018 Colour in the Streets Get Lost Magazine 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!” Read More 25 Feb 2018 When Two Worlds Collide Sunday Star-Times “Smash it on the head” yelled Geranio, our guide. “Quick!” The freshly caught piranha was flip-flopping in a desperate attempt to get back to water, sharp teeth biting at air as I brought a rotting stick down upon its head. Minewa, a 60-year old local tribesman, added it to his string of dead fish and smiled at me. “Now you are a warrior!’”, laughed Geranio. 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 2 Feb 2016 On Safari in the Masaii Mara Sunday Star-Times The lion was just metres away now. “Look, he’s trying to find some shade so the meat doesn’t rot quickly,” whispered my guide, Nicholas. In the big cat’s mouth was a Maasai calf, being unceremoniously dragged across the plain towards a desert date tree. It was nature at its primeval best in Kenya’s most famous game park. 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 4 Jun 2015 Why Albania Let's Travel “Why Albania?” “Why not?” “What have they done to us?” “What have they done for us?” “Nothing….” “See, they keep to themselves. Shifty. Untrustable.” Read More 26 Apr 2015 The Strangest Town in Australia Sunday Star-Times We both looked up. It was a strange sound, obviously unfamiliar to my host. “When was the last time it rained here?” I asked. A pause. “Um… this is the first time this year. Might settle the dust though,” said Nick laconically. Perhaps a good omen to mark the centenary of what some would say is Australia’s strangest town. 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 12 Feb 2013 Leap of Faith The Press 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. Read More 17 Jan 2013 An Eye on Hvar Horizons Dominion Post A car’s side mirror on a plinth. Next to it, a mounted set of papier mache breasts. Between them, a hanging axe. I was standing in front of one of the world’s strangest – and strangely inviting – exhibitions. Read More 13 May 2011 Spires of Patagonia The Press Before you pull out the atlas, a word of warning: Patagonia isn’t officially a 'place' as such. Rather it’s the name given to an area spanning southern Argentina and Chile, and everything you have heard about it – barren, windswept, sparse and beautiful – is true. Read More 26 Apr 2011 Brazil Rediscovered Que Magazine 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. Read More 11 Mar 2011 A Flying Visit Let's Travel It might not have been the largest plane in the world but it certainly was the friendliest. As we disembarked to the hot sticky tarmac, the pilot literally poked his head out of the cockpit to say “bye” to each of us, adding a cheery “Welcome to Gizzy!” Read More 28 Oct 2010 The Greatest Train Journey in the World The Press Platform 3, Beijing Railway Station. And there she was - the fabled Trans-Siberian, ready to take me on the longest train journey in the world. A surreal three countries, five time zones and 8300km of steppe, snow and stations lay ahead... but first of all there was Beijing. 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 10 Feb 2009 A Date with Hizbollah Real Travel For years the name Beirut evoked images of a vicious civil war and a hotspot of clashing cultures. It’s been a while since tourists flocked to the ‘Paris of the Middle East’, so you can imagine my surprise when I discovered a Lebanon of high class fashion, vibrant beauty, worldly citizens and some of the most amazing nightlife in the Middle East. Read More see tear sheets >

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

Published tear sheets of Guy Needham images and articles. TEAR SHEETS see exhibitions in situ > see exhibitions in situ >

“Is this the square?” “Si.” The couple sitting next to me were taking in Piazza San Giovanni, picturing James Bond in his DB5, machine guns blazing as his steely blue resolve and bullet-proof glass got him out of another sticky situation... < Back From Shame to Bond New Zealand Herald 17 Sept 2026 “Is this the square?” “Si.” The couple sitting next to me were taking in Piazza San Giovanni, picturing James Bond in his DB5, machine guns blazing as his steely blue resolve and bullet-proof glass got him out of another sticky situation... Being a location for the most recent Bond movie has brought a new fandom to Matera, but long before then this southern Italian town had a very different and somewhat embarrassing past. Considered the oldest inhabited settlement in Europe, Matera’s history dates back to cave dwellers 7,500 years ago. After being constantly attacked, the troglodytes shifted across the valley to take up defensive positions on the stassi (stone mountains). It is here where they carved their homes into rock, dotting caves along the cliff faces. Their descendants lived the same way for thousands of years until la vergogna nazionale d'Italia. “We were called the shame of Italy,” rued my guide, Renato Favilli. He explained that in 1952 the Prime Minister of Italy visited Matera and was shocked by what he saw – extreme poverty, widespread disease, no electricity, human waste in the streets, and animals living with people in caves. Passing a law that forcibly evacuated the 17,000 residents to the adjacent ‘new town’, the stassi were left abandoned and decaying. Things began to change in 1993 when Matera was designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, and tourists started coming to this ancient town in the arch of Italy’s boot. “When we were named European Capital of Culture in 2019,” Renato continued, “we became even more popular!” That popularity was now heading our way, as multiple tour groups jostled for shade from the 30degree heat on the narrow cobblestone streets. Unlike the day-trippers from nearby Bari, I had made Matera casa mia for the next few nights. “ Ciao! ” bounced the effervescent Domenica, manager of Il Casale di Maria, a boutique hotel cut into the limestone of Stasso Barisano. Before she even showed me my room, she was scribbling on a tear-off map pad. “Your Google maps will not work well here. Too many streets close together’. She circled restaurants. Underlined churches. Arrowed piazzas. “ Prego! ” First up was what Matera is known for, its chiese rupestri or rock churches. Santa Maria de Idris is the most prominent, carved into a rocky outcrop overlooking the gravina far below. I put €4.50 into the ticket machine, took two steps to the right and before me was a faded fresco of Christ Pantocrator painted 900 years ago. The fact that these delicate works even exist today is astounding. Not content with one rock church I made my way to Convento di Sant'Agostino, built by Augustine monks in 1592. Domenica had underlined a church that lay hidden beneath the convent – but I needed to seek permission to see it. Poking my sweaty head into the sacrestia , I surprised a priest who kindly directed me to the left of the altar. Unlocking an unassuming door, he waved me through a carved-out tunnel, and I stepped into the small subterranean 15th-century crypt of San Guglielmo da Vercelli. Sitting in a niche was a fresco of the Holy Trinity; beside it was Madonna col Bambino (Madonna with Child), dating to 1603. Back outside my squinting eyes slowly adjusted to the low Basilicata sun, only to gaze upon what is arguably the best view in Matera. If I had prompted ChatGPT to create an ancient mountain town, with cliff-hugging roads, stone alleyways, twinkling lights at dusk, jigsaw-like houses, and topped with a cathedral, it would have created the view from Belvedere Emilio Colombo. As the moon slowly rose, I found myself on Vico Santa Cesarea in front of one of Domenica’s circled restaurants. Carved into rock with a patio out front, Ristorante Baccus offers more traditional fare than its counterparts in Stassi Caveoso. Conjuring up my best Italian I ordered Polpo alla griglia con crema di patate al profumo di rosmarino. The octopus was stunning. After mopping up the sauce with the unique and strangely shaped Pane di Matera bread, I looked longingly at the dessert menu… but settled on an espresso. The next morning I didn’t have to go far to find a local artisan at work. Concentrating hard outside his workshop-cum-shop, Pasquale was chipping away at a small block of limestone tuff. Everything inside he had carved himself and he told me he preferred to sell it directly. After browsing the uneven shelves, I purchased a small carved figurine of two cats together (who seemed to get on better than mine do). Cats are a common sight in Matera. Throughout the streets are signs announcing, ‘Here lives a Protected Feral Cat Colony’ and it is forbidden to mistreat them . For the most part the felines were just lying on the road in the sun, oblivious to any passers-by. The streets of Matera also host a surprising number of artworks, including Salvador Dali’s original bronze “Dalinian Dancer” sculpture – its blue hues matching the Materan sky – and the more contemporary The Drop, which I spent far too much time questioning if it really belonged in Matera. There was one more arrow on Domenica’s map to visit: Palombaro Lungo (long deep well). A man-made cavity dating back to the 1500s, it was one of five cisterns that was used to collect rainwater for the town. I crossed the boardwalks suspended over the colourfully lit water, in awe at a cave that had once held 5million litres of water. Making my way back to the hotel I ticked off the items on Domenica’s map, taking care not to obstruct the wheezing three-wheeled Piaggios full of tourists opting for wheels over heels. Much as they were handy for navigating the stassi, something tells me they wouldn’t have been 007’s first choice of vehicle for the ancient streets of Matera. Tips & tricks Wear comfortable shoes. You’ll be doing a lot of walking on uneven, and slippery at times, cobblestones Get a printed map to supplement your phone map – it simply won’t work at times Carry water with you, even though it is freely available Plan ahead: https://www.materawelcome.it/en/ Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >

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PHOTOJOURNALISM

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. < Back Deep in the Heart of Texas New Zealand Herald 3 May 2016 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. It was to be the starting point for an adventure deep into the heart of Texas, a road trip to discover the smaller side of the big state. The Hill Country is known as much for its wildflowers and Harley-hugging roads as it is for being in the Bible Belt of America – a place where God meets guns, traffic yields to longhorns, and TexMex and ribs are a staple diet. Even the towns have great names; you can travel to Welfare in the morning, visit Comfort in the afternoon and spend the night in Utopia. ‘Luckenbach, Texas’ was made famous by a Waylon Jennings song and is not so much a town as a gathering of buildings. Located just off Highway 290, the post office is also the general store and the saloon is out back. It’s renowned for its live music scene so we arrived in time to see the ‘picker circle’ – an improvised mish-mash of musicians who gather under an old oak tree and pass around a pick, each playing a song with the others joining in. "Da-da ding-ding, ding-ding, ding-ding, diiinnng," the unmistakable sound of a banjo was slowly echoed by a guitar, "Da-da ding-ding, ding-ding, ding-ding, diiinnng.” Everybody chuckled at Duelling Banjos being played, and I half expected someone to call out “Squeal like a pig, boy!” as a nod to Deliverance. Thankfully it was not to be as the banjo player ended with a flourish before passing the pick to the young cowboy on his right. He broke straight into that ol’ country classic, “Cocaine’s gonna kill my honey dead.” It was time to explore. Not far from the circle in front of a wooden building sat Cassey, co-owner of the Snail Creek Hat Co. “Howdy, y’all look like you need a hat!” While I didn’t take her up on her offer I did ask about what’s in style. “Welllllll,” she drawled, “Over yonder you can see that they come in all shapes and sizes,” pointing to the audience. “I used to be able to tell a Texan from a Dakotan just by looking at their hat but now it’s about personal preference.” She and her husband Glen use water to shape the unstructured palm leaf hats they get in. “In West Texas they angle the brim like this,” she said, folding in the sides like a paper dart. “It means the hat’s more aerodynamic and the winds just pass right on through.” Much as I was tempted to buy a cowboy hat, I opted instead to see the real thing in action, and where better than the Cowboy Capital of the World. Even the towns have great names; you can travel to Welfare in the morning, visit Comfort in the afternoon and spend the night in Utopia. Bandera, Texas, earned its moniker after the Great Western Cattle Trail drives of the 1880s, where at one stage there were more cattle and cowboys going through the main street than all the other cattle trails in the United States. More recently they’ve had a number of rodeo champions come from Bandera, which just gives extra points to their town spurs. Everywhere you look there are authentic buildings, early Americana and signs advertising the next rodeo (Friday). We were here to see the most Western event of them all – the gunslingers shootout.Every weekend the Bandera Cattle Company celebrates its heritage with a re-enactment of real scenarios from the town’s past. Taking a seat on the bleachers behind the Visitors Centre we watched as the period costumed cowboys slowly took up their positions, one drinking ‘whisky’, another playing cards, and our host, Dennis, sharing some of the local history. “God damn, that wasn’t meant to happen!” Dennis had just shot himself in the groin with a blank. It looked like it hurt. “You’re as dumb as a box of hammers!” yelled one of his compatriots to much laughter from the crowd. The show went on for an hour, with kids having the chance to be deputised afterwards. It was enough motivation for me to take the plunge and go buy some cowboy boots. After much assistance I settled on a pair of Justin’s that have been produced since 1879, “Made by his daddy’s daddy and his daddy’s granddaddy before him.” Quite chuffed with my new purchase we rocked up to our accommodation, a Texan ‘dude ranch’. There are a number of dude ranches near Bandera that offer accommodation, meals and activities all rolled into one – think of it as AirBnB meets the Warkworth Rodeo. We chose the Twin Elm “For Western Fun.” As it was getting dark when we arrived the owner pointed us towards the campfire and invited us to join her for ‘s’mores’. S’mores are a Texan treat where you roast marshmallows over a fire ‘til they’re ohhh-so-gooey and then add them to a graham cracker topped with a slice of chocolate. With full tummies the next morning we took advantage of our surrounds with a horse ride led by some of the local hands. Wading through the Medina River, past the fallen trees and down the trail, we got to experience their daily life at a leisurely pace. Bandera was also where I discovered how deeply ingrained religion is. On the way into town we noticed a number of flags at half-mast. I politely enquired when we got there, “We saw some of the flags were at half mast, has someone important died?” The lady stared straight back at me and said, “Jesus”. It was Good Friday. Moving on quickly after insulting the entire state of Texas, our next stop on the small town tour was Fredericksburg. Established by a German baron in 1846 after signing a peace treaty with the Comanche Indians, the town is considered the capital of Hill Country. Fredericksburg’s main claim to fame is being the birthplace of Admiral Chester Nimitz who led the US Pacific naval effort in World War II. The town houses the fantastic National Museum of the Pacific War and it made me proud to see the New Zealand flag flying (at full mast). “God damn, that wasn’t meant to happen!” Dennis had just shot himself in the groin with a blank. It looked like it hurt. The best part of Fredericksburg however is just outside of town. It’s called Wine Road 290 and comprises 15 different wineries in the area. In Texas a winery does not necessary mean a vineyard; it could simply be wine retailer. We didn’t let a wee detail like that put us off as we slowly pulled in to The Vintage Cellar. We’d already tried some of the local Bending Branch ‘Thinkers Blanc’ so that was a mandatory buy, but what caught my eye was the “Pour It Forward” chalkboard. Like a ‘random act of kindness’, the idea is to buy someone a drink in advance by writing up an occupation on the board. Unfortunately, no one had written ‘Parched Kiwi’ but if I’d been a fireman, marine, zookeeper or teacher it would have been a very boozy afternoon. Leaving the Hill Country the next day we noticed that the landscape had changed, speckled with political billboards. Texas is staunchly Republican – represented by Senator Ted Cruz – and even here it’s hard to escape the slogans in the midst of an election campaign. Looking around as the last of the sun’s rays lit up the wildflowers on the side of the road, we passed a “Make America Great Again” sign. Something tells me that the locals don’t have anything to worry about. This land of cowboys has never had a problem being great. Details Stay: www.twinelmranch.com Getting there: Air New Zealand flies direct Auckland to Houston (14 hours); Houston to San Antonio is a 1 hour flight; Hill Country is a 1 hour drive away Websites: www.luckenbachtexas.com www.banderacowboycapital.com Visas: Apply online for the USA ESTA visa waiver for up to 90 days Location: Hill Country, Texas, USA Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >

We’d been in the village for less than half an hour before we were propositioned. Usually, I’m a little wary of strangers inviting me to their house but the tall man in the grey hoodie insisted. “It’s only three minutes away,” he said with a straight face and slight accent. “You should come.” So we slowly followed him down the road. < Back Magical Māpua The Press 30 Sept 2025 We’d been in the village for less than half an hour before we were propositioned. Usually, I’m a little wary of strangers inviting me to their house but the tall man in the grey hoodie insisted. “It’s only three minutes away,” he said with a straight face and slight accent. “You should come.” So we slowly followed him down the road. Not that there was anything to worry about. The inviting local was one of the Māpua’s many talented craftspeople, industrial designer Sebastian Roccatagliata. In the workshop below his house, he pointed to thin boards of rimu, matai, and rewarewa, ready to be crafted into lamps for his Studio Deco Design showroom. Sebastian, like many of Māpua’s residents, had moved here for the lifestyle and natural beauty. The name says it all: Māpua means ‘a place of abundance’ in Māori. Only 30 minutes from Nelson, the township is best known for the historic and revitalised Māpua Wharf – an eclectic mix of boutiques, restaurants, bars, galleries, and a bike hire shop. “You want a step thru? A hardtail?” Establishing that I was a novice, the staff at Kiwi Journeys carefully wheeled out my first e-bike. “Go round to the left, between the buildings, down the ramp, onto the sand, we’ll meet you there. We drive the ferry too.” The flat-bottomed Māpua Ferry is the cycle-friendly link to nearby Rabbit Island and the only ferry crossing on New Zealand’s cycle trail. It took a whole five minutes to get to the other side. “See you in a few hours” came the cheery wave and off we went, doing a majestic 20kph with the help of eco and sport modes, peddling the coast track before heading towards the beach. Beyond the protected bird nests lay total solitude, undisturbed sand as far as the eye could see. Further inland we doubled back though the pine forest, navigating pinecones and debris before taking on the Conifer Park Track. Along the way we came across other cyclists who were doing the Great Taste Trail, one of the Ngā Haerenga Great Rides of New Zealand. Once back in Māpua it was time to eat, and The Jellyfish’s sun deck was calling. Located in a prime position on the wharf this well-regarded restaurant was bustling despite the chilly spring day. I rued not choosing the BBQ brisket dripping in caramelised onion that she-who-doesn’t-like-to-share ordered. Oh well, there was always Hamish the heron to watch on the pier (spoiler alert: it took me a while to figure out Hamish is not a real bird). Not far from the restaurant are the old apple coolstores, now converted into an art lover’s paradise. Where once 100,000 cases of Granny Smiths and Galas sat ready to be exported, today it is pīwakawaka sculptures of recycled spoons (Forest Fusion), hand-painted scarfs (The Mapua Collective), and mini terracotta vases (Coolstore Gallery) that take pride of place. But it was a pop of fuchsia nearby that caught my eye. The brightly painted beacon that is Kandē was a magnet to my oh-so-sweet tooth . Seated behind the smallest counter in the world was college student Aidan Porch, purveying jars of Grow Some Balls and Stop the Whining Gums . “How would I describe this shop? Small!” he laughed, going on to explain that the candy store was a family affair - built by him and his dad, with mum doing the ordering – giving him the flexibility to work when he can. Like many seaside towns, opening hours in Māpua vary by season : the Golden Bear Brewing Company was still ‘hibernating’ in early September; the ferry timetable was operating on winter hours (weekends / school holidays); and many of the pop-up shops hadn’t popped-up yet. Thankfully this wasn’t the case everywhere. “Open every day but Christmas,” shouted Tim over the Wega coffee machine at Java Hut, a little further up Aranui Road. Complete with self-identifying grumpy old men sitting out front and an overflowing tippo-potamus, it was obvious that Java Hut is a local’s local. “I love it when we get visitors, but there’s more to Māpua than just the wharf.” He wasn’t wrong. Staying in a converted warehouse apartment at Pohutukawa Farm, with its expansive views of tidal Waimea Inlet framed by the distant snowy ranges, it was easy to forget how much the wider area had to offer. In a region renowned for its wines we headed to Moutere Hills Restaurant & Cellar Door in search of lunch. Mistake #1 : not making a booking during a potentially busy period (I’m looking at you, Fathers’ Day). Mistake #2 : not giving ourselves enough time to take in the surrounds. We laser focused in on deserts. Dark Chocolate Ganache Tart? Yes please. Orange Cake, Safron Gel and Aquafaba Meringue? We’ll have that too. A trio of Feijoa Cake Limoncello, Tiramisu, and Ginger Loaf Icecream? Go on then. It’s fair to say that we didn’t have dinner. We had one last stop though: Brook Waimārama Sanctuary, a shortish drive away. The South Island’s biggest predator-free sanctuary is home to 65 tuatara and 41 kiwi pukupuku (Little Spotted Kiwi), as well as the critically endangered kākāriki-karaka (orange-fronted parakeet). We were warmly welcomed to the visitor centre by Chris McCormack, CEO, enthusiastic conservationist, and our tour guide for the night. Red-light head torches on, puffers zipped up, we headed through the double doors into the forest valley. A few hundred metres in Chris froze. “Hear that?” he urgently whispered, “It’s a male.” A high-pitched whistle. A pause, and then another one. “No, he’s a different male.” Then a lower call, slower, a short of trill. “Wow, she’s responding! That’s two kiwi males and a female you’ve just heard”. This was going to be hard to beat. We followed the path through the sanctuary, Chris shining an infrared light to bring the hidden glowworms alive, stopping occasionally to open a wooden ‘weta hotel’ (it’s OK, they’re in cases). This time there was a sharp “Shhh”. Leaves rustled to our right. Then suddenly, out popped a kiwi pukupuku metres from us and shot up the side of the path, it’s powerful legs too quick for us to get a photo, its soft shaggy feathers shining in the full moonlight. We were stunned. To see this taonga in its natural habitat really did feel like an honour. “That has never happened on a tour,” Chris said, when we all got our breath back. The wide smiles continued all the way back to Māpua. The next morning, still excited about our kiwi encounter, we coffee’d in Māpua one last time. As we left the wharf we passed Sebastian’s lighting showroom, his whale-shaped lights still on, grateful that this stranger had taken the time to proposition us. Original publication: The Press < Previous Next >