Schladminger Hike

Schladminger Hike: the time we hike the beautiful Alps and it was the most harrowing experience of my life.

Blog post by big sister Hazel Ho:

So on Saturday Sept 13th Vanessa and I (and Tereza/Martin/Carolin) almost died. True story.

We organized a hiking weekend starting in Schladming, a village 90km SE of Salzburg. When we checked the weather forecast for the weekend we knew to prepare for a rainy trek, so I purchased Goretex hiking boots and a waterproof knapsack. A gondola helped us up a little (500m I think?) and we started off the hike on a good note - free apples were given to us! Vanessa was happy. It was a bit drizzly and I could tell that if it weren't for the thick fog we'd have a beautiful view of the Austrian valleys. Everyone was in good spirits initially and when I first saw snow I was giddy with delight. I even wanted more snow to appear so I could make snow angels! 

But the snow didn't stop and neither did the altitude. As we continued our climb up to the peak the weather conditions worsened and we ended up hiking through rain, hail, slush and snow. It wouldn't have been too terrible if we had a safe path to follow but unfortunately that wasn't the case. We ended up clmibing rocks, wading through streams, and Vanessa and Lu practiced rock-climbing techniques on more than one occasion. The scariest part was being surrounded by fog and not being able to see what was below us. The terrain was precarious and a few of us had slips and falls that could have resulted pretty tragically if we were unfortunate enough to lose our balance on a part that had a steep drop down. 

We had three pretty experienced hikers with us (2 Czechs and one German) and I'm happy to say that I wasn't a wimp for being a little scared to continue on. They all said that if they'd known the conditions were going to be that terrible they wouldn't have proceeded with the hike. And before you can say anything else in regards to our lack of preparation, we did go to the information desk to let the people there know what hike we were planning on doing and besides a 'you'll get a bit of snow' there were no other warnings regarding the hiking conditions.

Vanessa edit: Even though the hike was incredibly treacherous and slow-going, and the nightfall was quickly approaching, Hazel kept stopping and pointing out every single flower that was poking out of the damn snow.  I think she was delirious.

Anyway, long story short, we FINALLY made it to our hut 6.5 hours later (wet and cold) where we were met with one of the most inhospitable people I've ever encountered! Our hut was only accessible by foot so maybe the owners aren't used to socializing...but the lady there seemed to enjoy yelling at us in German (knowing full well we didn't understand a word she was saying) and didn't want us showering until after we had dinner even though we were chilled to the bone due to wet clothes. Showers, we found out later, were charged at €4 a hit. 

Vanessa edit: How do we describe this woman? Surly comes to mind.  A surlier woman I have never met.  You would think after 6 hours of seriously treacherous hiking, she would have asked about our journey, how close we came to not making it to the hut before sundown.  Wrong.  Instead, she seemed annoyed that 6 travellers who made reservations to pay her exhorbitant prices for food and lodging had actually arrived at her doorstep.  It's not like business was booming at the mountain hut - aside from our group, there was one other person who had been there for days... and he was a bit off
.

I was looking forward to a fantastic home-cooked Austrian dinner but my pasta was so salty I couldn't finish it. Neither could the two others who ordered the same dish, but the owner didn't seem to notice/pay attention/care that we all half a plate remaining. Maybe she thought we were all on diets. Vanessa didn't seem too particularly fond of her 'authentic Austrian meat' dish, which was just spam. Lu's dish was good...he ended up sharing a lot of his dish :D

Cracking the coconut

Many years ago, on the night of my 15th birthday, my father came home from work and grinning ear-to-ear, presented me with my coconut. I stared at him, confused. What was the significance of this round, hairy, foreign object?

'It's a coconut', my father explained. 'Instead of a birthday cake, you get to have something different!'

Right. So instead of getting a delicious vanilla cake frosted with cool whip and decorated with strawberries and kiwis (the only cake my grandma has ever been known to make, and so she makes it very, very well) I was getting ... a coconut?

I thanked my dad, still baffled, and told him that I didn't know how to open it. I guess this was something my overly enthusiastic father had failed to consider. We all stared at it, puzzled - me, my dad, and my best friend Kim. Thus began the night's labor of opening the most bizarre birthday cake I've ever received.

First we tried scraping open a hole with a paring knife. It failed to make a dent. Then we tried smashing it against the kitchen counter, again, to no effect. We soaked it in water, thinking maybe it would soften the outer shell. Nothing. Finally, my dad took matters into his own hands and retreated into the garage with the coconut. We could hear sounds of heavy machinery being used. A few minutes later my father triumphantly emerged with a freshly drilled hole in the coconut. He emptied the contents, which amounted to half a glass of cloudy coconut milk, and gave it to me, 'Happy birthday!'

I was less than amused, but Kim was highly entertained by the entire process. 'Your family is so random,' she said. Sigh... this is true.

Since that day, I've always been a bit wary of coconuts. That is, until I came to the Cook Islands. Since then, I've discovered the taste of freshly opened coconuts, and I can't get enough. This week I finally learned to crack the coconut. It's amazingly simple.

Step 1: Husking the coconut. The husk is the big green or brown shell encasing the coconut and takes some effort to remove. Most people pry it off using a traditional metal pole with a pointed tip to get it under husk.


Step 2: Cracking the coconut. This part is the most fun. See that red line I've drawn around the middle? You have to strike that imaginary line with a blunt object while rotating it to get the weak points. Eventually a crack will show and you can pry it open. A professional can do this with just three strokes and under 2 seconds. I'm working on it.


Step 3: Enjoy the coconut!




I can't get enough of Henry Nilsson this week. I wish I grew up in an era where songs like these made Billboard Top 100.

Click here to listen to 'Henry Nilsson - Coconut'

Working with water

Ahh.. the end of another working week in the Cook Islands. I guess I should explain what it is that I'm doing here. Still finishing up the last semester of my program, I'm interning with one of the government ministries in water resource management, which is relevant to my studies. Basically I'm trying to engage with people from all over the island to talk about what the future of water and health will look like for the Cook Islands, and what we need to start doing now.

Holding a workshop on the future of water, health and climate change

The interesting part of managing natural resources in a small island setting is that any changes you make to the environment has an immediate impact. For example, if there's an unusually heavy rainfall and papaya plantations are laying fertilizers on their fields, it gets washed into the lagoon, causing a spike in algae blooms, threatening beaches and livelihoods because the country is so dependant on tourism. That's why its essential for people across different sectors communicating so they realize how their activities affect, or are affected by, their neighbours. Fortunately this is a place that has close community ties, making this easy to do, most of the time.

Meeting people from all different backgrounds is the best part of my job. Where else in the world can you call up a department minister totally out of a blue, and then sit down for a meeting with them later that day? People here are just so approachable and friendly. I get to talk to schoolchildren, traditional leaders, landowners and lots of other people working in government. Water is important to different people in different ways, and everyone is more than happy to share their point of view.

One thing I didn't expect is how my job would continue to follow me after working hours. Being a tall asian girl with a Canadian accent makes me stand out here, a lot, so people are always asking stopping me to ask what I'm doing here. There have been instances where I'm picking up something at a local shop, and the owners will take me to their house to show me the discoloured water and low pressure coming out of their taps. Other times I will explain what I'm working on, and people look at me and think I'm just attached to another aid project, paid to give their opinion and leave. I've talked to taro planters who have thrown f-bombs at me, telling me that no government should ever tell him what to do with his land. All of these opinions are valid though, and its mostly good-natured. Sometimes I'll be walking along the main road and people will ask me if I've fixed all the country's water problems yet, and I'll laugh and say I'm working on it.

Looking into the island's water sources and reservoirs

I know that the time I'll spend here is relatively short, and realistically maybe I won't have that much of an impact. The one thing I try to do is keep an open mind and try to listen (harder than you think, consider how much I talk!) and appreciate this experience.

Cook Islands

I've been pinching myself every morning for the past month. I've been waking up to sunrises like these, thinking its too surreal to be living in the Cook Islands.

I'm staying on the main island of Rarotonga, which has the only international airport, and the most tourists. With ten thousand people, its the most populated of the 15 islands that makes up Cook Islands. We have two grocery stores, one bookstore, eleven fish n' chip stations and fifteen churches. Perhaps that gives you an idea of the girth and the religious fervor of the people of the Cook Islands. To get an idea of where the country is located, find Hawaii, then head south for about 7000 km. Those tiny dots are the Cook Islands.

The sheer isolation of the island geography was initially daunting, but its hard not to be charmed by the small community feel to Rarotonga. In my first days walking around the main town area, random people on the street approached me saying 'hey you're the new intern from Canada? Welcome!' and there are always open invitations to family birthdays, community socials and dinner parties from virtual strangers. It's easy to feel like you're cut off from the rest of the world, but the sheer generosity, friendliness and amazing hospitality of the Cook Islanders have made me feel like I have a home in the middle of the Pacific.