We are now moving into production with our “Faces of Nova Scotia” series.
“Welcome to Nova Scotia, one of Canada’s most populated picturesque Maritime Provinces!
Nova Scotia or New Scotland in Latin is a delightful destination home to stunning coastal scenery, one of the world’s largest natural harbours, a pleasant countryside, and the charming city of Halifax.
Nova Scotia is steeped in history and rich in culture. It was first populated by the indigenous people known as the Mi’kmaq,
the first European settlers were the French. They founded Acadia in 1604 and established the first capital for the colony Acadia at Port Royal. Scottish settlers colonized Nova Scotia for a short time but they were removed by treaty and the area was handed back to the French until the mid-18th century. The British Empire gained control of the area and established a capital, Halifax. In 1867 Nova Scotia was one of the founding provinces of the Canadian Confederation. The Irish Famine and the Scottish Highland Clearances brought many people with Celtic ancestry to Nova Scotia, Today this Celtic character is evident in the provinces music and culture.
Nova Scotia can most certainly capture your heart with its friendly people and picturesque views. It’s a painter’s paradise where so much peace can be found in the numerous capturing locations around the province.
Halifax is Nova Scotia’s urban center offering lively city streets, casual strolls along the beautiful Halifax waterfront, cobblestone sidewalks, fine dining, fashionable boutiques and lively music in many pubs. It offers everything a large city has to offer but has a small town charm.
Nova Scotia is one of the worlds most beautiful and charming places full of character and wonderful people. Life evolves around the sea and the character that makes up Nova Scotia is one of the world’s best-kept secrets!
These are the Faces of Nova Scotia!”
We had to wait until after midnight to board our train to Milano. On this train we met a very friendly guy, Mohammid, from Morrocco. He invited us to share his cabin and after showing me all his photographs of deserts in Morrocco, family, and leisure in Malaga, he made sure we were stretched out comfortably to sleep. At first, I was afraid that he may have ulterior motives for being so friendly, but I believe he was only searching for company. Sadly, he was made to get off the train by the passport controllers as his visa did not match up to requirements. Michelle and I could only wish him all the best for all his kindness and thanked God for our Canadian passports. We arrived at the impressive Milano station for a change of trains and were shortly on our way to Venice. We sat next to an extremely gorgeous Englishman and another lady (possibly his mother) . The first thing I noticed on our arrival in Venice was that the color of the water was not at all what I expected - a light blue. The charm of the city uncovered immediately with the numerous canals, dainty streets, festival masks, and many, many people. Unfortunately, it was a rainy day but this did not dampen the passions that stirred in me upon reaching St. Marc’s square - the water, magnificent buildings, thousands of people, and something else I cannot explain. When the thunder roared, hundreds of pidgins flew into the sky and as we waited, sheltered by balconies of the Piazzo S. Marco, amidst many people waiting for the down pour to end - I realized it only added to the atmosphere of Venice. Michelle and I sprinted in the rain splashing water onto our legs as we ran into puddles and I could not stop smiling for love of this famous place. It is know to be romantic, but my romance was purely with the city and any man involved would have only been in the way with the magic I was feeling. It was impossible for Michelle and I to follow the map and looking for the Rialto bridge was not an easy task but we enjoyed every minute of it. We had not reserved a spot on the train and after enjoying some “must be had” pasta, we found that our train to Paris was couchettes only. Luckily, we managed to charm the coordinator into giving us a deal and we must have done well as we ended up in a private first class cabin. After waking up in a comfortable couchette, Michelle and I rebuilt our stress while moving from one station to another and then trying to find the right line to book our ride to Rome. Unfortunately the train was fully booked and so we ended up reserving a seat for the night train to Biarritz.
Saint Ranieri is honored on the 16th of June in Pisa, Italy with more than 70 000 candles, which light up the Arno riverbank. The tradition started in the 17th century and is absolutely spectacular as the architectural details of the palaces and bridges are gloriously illuminated in a fairy-tale-like setting. Thousands of lighted candles also float on the waters and the people of Pisa join in by lighting fires and bonfires and letting off blasts of gunpowder.
On March 26th 1688 the urn containing the remains of Saint Ranieri who is the patron saint of Pisa, was placed in the Cathedral of Cappella dell’Incoronata. The Illumination of Pisa has been held every year since then.
It is difficult to ponder on all that goes on in the still African wilderness. No word or picture could recreate the aura of Africa. Silence is a sound and the word “culture” creates itself where the lions rule. Mankind no longer has power as the majestic earth challenges one’s every point of consciousness. The beauty of silence in the midst of the dangerous yet undeniably peaceful nature is overwhelming. As I gaze across a wide area of lowveld from a veranda in Singita, a curious monkey watches me as though I were the sought after game. This morning I followed Millington into his village, Justicia. This is a Shangaan village with about 15000 inhabitants. We were warmly welcomed by the local people who take much pride in their culture. At first glance, the village appears to be poverty stricken with large craters in the dirt roads, chickens and goats roaming freely and shanty-like homes. However, as we passed women carrying goods on top of their heads and children playing with miniature bicycles, made out of wire, their constant smiles and cheerful greetings proved that poverty has more than one meaning.
I spent the evening on a safari with my brother, Rowan, and a ranger, Andrew. We ventured through the game parks of Singita. The name, Singita, is perfect as the area lives up to the meaning of the word which is Shangaan for “The Miracle.” The names of surrounding areas also prove what life is about in this part of Africa: Londolozi means “The Protector of all Living Things,” and Ngala is “The Place of the Lion.” We first came across a Klip Springer which is a very small buck.So small in fact that it’s largest danger is the eagle. They find one partner and live together in a small rocky area and never venture from it. The certainty that these small animals have of their environment protects them from larger enemies. Next, we watched as an impala male cunningly rounded up his females. The dominant male always chases away the other males and herd as many females as he can. This particular one had successfully rounded up about thirty females. As the sun set, the cold night air became the only bane to our adventure. The African silence that encompasses it’s admirers was slowly broken by chirping crickets and soon to follow were laughing hyenas and the warning cries of baboons that had set their eyes upon some hungry lions. We were next to see those lions and it happened in the most exciting way. Our attention had been caught by a nine meter African Rock Python that had just killed a steenbok. His body took shape to the kill as he started digesting it. However, other animals are continuously lurking about in search of an easy meal. On this particular night, a prowl of lions got lucky, and at the sight, so did we. Slowly and wisely, they positioned themselves for their cause and in hardly a second, they were upon the snake and stole it’s earned meal. We were delighted at the experience and watched as just feet away the lions hungrily tore the carcass to pieces. A lion sleeps around fifteen hours a day and so we were very satisfied to catch their not so lazy side. Earlier that day, we had spent an hour waiting for a male lion to decide whether he would sleep or continue to search for his brother … the same brother that he had outcast that morning in order to mate. After a couple unenergized but powerful calling roars his head grew heavy and he lazily fell back with a groaning puff and so our wait ended. Our attention was next caught by a leopard and her cub. They amused us as they playfully mocked a kill using each other as prey. The cub was hungry and sounded like a kitten as he begged his mother to start the real thing. She knew it was not quite her hunting time yet and kept her cub begging as she curiously climbed a tree and tried her weight on almost every branch. We were not quite as patient as the cub and returned to camp bouma for dinner, which was quite a treat. We were surrounded by large vertically standing sticks as protection from the animals. A bonfire and a few hanging lanterns provided light as we feasted on ostrich necks, quail, and impala. We danced our meals off around the fire to the amazing voices and rhythm of some Shangaan women. The drumming moved our bodies as they sung of love, joy, and peace and those feelings moved our souls. I was surrounded by loved ones but not “a love” and yet that was the most romantic night of my life. In fact, that very thought ran through my mind as I sat alone that night breathing in the smells of Africa and gazing into the dark wilderness. There is something about Africa that touches the soul; I often wonder if every person is born with that.
The following morning I arose to the most surreal sight. The sun rose and shone through some heavy mist blanketing everything in an orange glow and touching every ripple, leaf, and bird. It was my third day back in Africa. The sun beat down despite the extremely cold night we had had the night before. Once again, the baboons seemed to be thoroughly entertained by watching me write. They stared in amusement and as I looked up at them, they would turn their little pink heart-shaped bottoms at me as if to say that they were never looking at all. It was quite amazing to watch them too, especially when they practiced one of mankind’s oldest professions … prostitution. The male baboon guard the berries until the females mate with them and only then do they share the food!
An evening was pent watching movies. The only television was a five minute walk from camp at a “gym.” Rowan, Wynand and I sprawled out on the gym floor with cushions and blankets and took a break from the bush. The following night was to be a little more exciting; we planned to braai with the neighboring firemen at Skakuza.
On my fifth morning back in Africa, I woke up under a pale blue sky. With much difficulty, I opened my eyes as the sun pierced them. I had slept outdoors with my brother and one of the firemen after a bonfire party. My pillow and blanket were wet and my face was cold to the touch. Slowly, woody shrubs, a marula tree and a brightly blue tailed lizard came into view and I was awake. The morning was quite eventful and full of mischief. My brother and Wynand were flying passengers from one game park to another and we were moving to Londolozi, which is another private game reserve set in the Sabi Sands. The firemen, the pilots, and myself waited on the runway for the passengers. Fun and games grew out of boredom when the firemen decided that soaking their buddies was the aim for the morning. Needless to say, when those trucks shot water in our direction we were drenched. Revenge was sweet when it was time to position the aircraft for take off. The pilots cunningly turned the plane’s rudder towards the firemen and the air from the engines blasted them.
Londolozi captures its visitors. The friendly faces became very familiar after just one day of welcoming. I joined a large group of staff in playing drums on the runway. The experience was quite frightening as monkeys warned of the hunting leopards on just the other side of the airstrip. However, the risk was well worth it as our hands beat down causing the drumming sound to fill the darkness surrounding us. A full moon shone and yet the stars still stole our eyes. A lovers spirit was in the air and could be felt amongst those that gathered. It was dangerous play but it filled its purpose as Africa filled our souls. Earlier that evening, Rowan and I joined a ranger, Garreth, in search of cheetah. It took some time as the cheetah is difficult to see amongst the long grass where it typically reigns. Our venture was not in vein, however, as she was found greedily feeding on a kill she had made earlier that day. She was nervous and made sure to keep aware of her surroundings knowing the danger of hyenas looking to steel her kill. We watched from just a few feet away until she had eaten to satisfaction leaving only the intestines, stomach, and head intact.
Our walk back camp was by no means a comfortable one. Between the warning monkeys, stalking hyenas, and laughing hippos, which sound similar to the roar of a lion at first, my heart raced and my steps quickened. I decided it was better to put the torch out than to know what animals lurked nearby.
The following morning a large crowd of South Africans, Americans, and Albanians joined for a bush breakfast. Apart from the bugs in the food, it was a thrilling experience. On our return, we followed about thirty circling hawks to the same area where we had let the carcass before. A hyenas sudden cry made us aware of the ongoing battle over the impalas remains. The White Backed Eagles obviously won as on our arrival, one or two were still picking. The others were perched on a dead tree to the left looking satisfied with their meal. Inquisitively, we went to what was let of the carcass but only the contents of its stomach remained. Not even a bone was left for the taking.
The following morning, I was scared out of my wits and it had nothing to do with any wildlife. I flew back to Singita with my brother and there happened to be no other passengers. He took the opportunity to show me his skill. Although I threatened to murder with screams from the back seat, he ensured that I saw the ground from every angle. He’s the type of person that will never play by the rules and always makes sure to do what everyone else is not doing. I love him dearly and knew that I would not be able to hold back the tears when we departed for Durban the following day.
One last game drive had to be taken. We followed th tracks of a cheetah and her two cubs and then sat back to watch their activities. When cheetahs walk, they do not retract their claws and this makes an obvious distinction between the tracks of a leopard and those of a cheetah. The clubs played energetically while the mother sat proudly and gracefully watching some nearby impala. Cheetah cubs stay with their mother for three years and she will not mate in that time.
My heart was heavy as we left the lowveld but I found peace and passion during my stay that I carry with me now knowing that I can always close my eyes and think of that place that exists and remains and return to a land that captured my soul.
Folk dancing and country-style dress up are enjoyed by children and adults at the June bonfire festivals in Rio, which are an important part of Brazilian culture. These folklore celebrations take place in the streets, squares, clubs, schools and churches in the form of games, dancing, fireworks, bonfires, and mini country villages with stalls that are set out to bear a resemblance to village market places decorated with streamers and lanterns. The festivals are in honor of Saint John, Saint Anthony, and Saint Peter and take place on three separate evenings. Dancing, eating, and drinking are enjoyed around the bonfires. Mock weddings in which couples follow the old tradition of leaping the flames provide extra entertainment.
