Happy Easter!

We sung this old Salvation Army hymn at the church service today (lyrics just there in the red.) I dug it. . . I dug it because for me the fact that Jesus dying and coming back to life means "the end of mortal days", floats my boat. Do you ever sometimes wake up and think 'sheesh, life is like a shrivelled up raisin' ? (I do.) I love it that Jesus offers a way out of meaninglessness... mere mortality... simple survival... This verse is a reminder that Jesus opens the door to a life deeper and more colourful than we can imagine, a life where darkness is defeated, and where love oozes over us (and hopefully) out of us.
Happy Easter. I really pray you know the peace and freedom of the living Christ as your friend.

A Good Friday triplet...

James K. Baxter from Autumn Testament
King Jesus, after a day or a week of bitching
I come back always to your bread and salt,

Because no other man, no other God,
Suffered our pains with us minute by minute

And asked us to die with him.

Colin Mccahons Imprisonment and Reprieve

Nikos Kazantzakis from The Last Temptation of Christ
Jesus uttered a triumphant cry: "It is accomplished!" and it was as though he had said: "Everything has begun!"

The pursuit of happiness and the glimmer of hope

We saw Pursuit of Happyness this week. It's a good movie (best waiting till it comes out on DVD though) about a not well off guy, Chris, who gets a few bad breaks and gets stuck on a downward spiral. It portrays really, really well the trap of poverty, you get a poignant insight into the hopelessness of what it is like to very poor. (Not student poor, which I think alot of us may have experienced: "Man, I can't even afford to go to the cinema!")
But, of course, it's all very Hollywood because at the end, due to a splash of luck, the dude's dream comes true and he gets rich. This is all really fantastic and I couldn't help but shed a tear at this wondrous thing. I also couldn't help but think about the googles of people stuck in the povetry rift who weren't ever, ever gonna get the good cards dealt to Chris. (But, you know, the stories of normal people just dont give veiwers that warm glow when they leave the building.)

Last night we went to Artists Corner at Number 10. Number 10 is a Salvation Army thing at the back of Oxford Street, a small centre for the local homeless people. It is beautiful, like fully unassuming and authentic. We have had a few chances to hang out since we got here, and last night too, was really fantastic. People read poems they had written, sang songs and even did some live painting. Deep well springs of talent. Alot of the expressions of art were about their experiences of being homeless and almost all moved from a point of despair to a point of hope.

So, anyway, to tie this babling on all together...
Chris's story (although apparently inspired by a true one) ends pretty unrealistically. Things are so bad for Chris predominantly because he has absolutley no friends, no one to turn to. But then, magic, he comes upon a gold mine. (But still has no friends.)
On the other hand, last night I was filled with the sense that the glimmer of light for alot of Number 10's homeless friends, wasn't the prospect of a pot of gold but the people at Number 10, inspiring them, encouraging them but most of all being there, always there to turn to.
Shivers. So in conclusion. Hopefully this isn't too naive...
If us Jesus Followers really saw ourselves as salt and sprinkled ourselves around neighbourhoods, the total despair for people that was Chris's wouldn't be so bad, as we would be his friends to turn too. And, clearly, hope and happiness isn't found in the miraculous stockbroking job or the lottery win, but in solid friendship that everyone should have accesss to.

Gullible?? How 'bout we say trusting...

So... yesterday we got scammed.
We were walking down the road when this lovely Italian chap called us over to his flash wagon and after a fair few minutes of friendly chat, me showing off all my Italian, Tim being his wonderful warm self and the stranger charming us utterly and completley, he explained that he fancied giving us a gift of some expensive Italian leather coats. (?!) Neither of us are the Giorgio Armani types, but, hardly wanting to reject our new friend's offering, we accepted the designer bag, albeit in a bemused kind of a way. After a few moments, Mr Mario got on to the fact that he just needed a bit of cash for petrol. Sweet as, no worries; we gave him a crispy note. He wanted another. After some squirming, we, er, gave him another. He wanted just the one more. We explained that, um actually, we were unemployed and clearly not loaded and HELLO YOU'RE DRIVING A BMW. Except the capitals didn't quite make it from our minds to our mouth, and we pretty much emptied our wallet into his sweaty paws. Fifty. Freaking. Pounds. (Yup, thats $150 kiwi golds.)
The exact second he started up his Bimmer and drove off we realized that whatever had just happened we had just done a very stupid thing. Our hearts jumped into our mouths and our jaws dropped meaning that our hearts were bobbing all over the pavement right there outside South Kensington Tube Station and we stared at each other in disbelief. We were in shock; we gasped, we laughed, we yelled, we ran (away from the police in case they did us for handling stolen goods) and we finally made it home to open up the bag. 'Till this point I wasn't too traumatised, even if they were off the back of a lorry, we could always sell them on e-bay and make back the dosh, and perhaps an extra bob or two. But oh, no. It was worse. They were 100% polyester, made in China, worth about 70p each and the tool of a worldwide rip off.

Obviously, we are gutted as we feel very ridiculous. However, we are glad to be able to say we have learnt some lessons (Being jobless we have much time to philosophise.) Ok, drumroll....
*However spiritual and unmaterialist we may feel at times, the truth is we are inherently greedy and our minds get whirring at the thought of getting something for nothing.
*Even though we feel we got majorly ripped off, it is absolutley nothing in comparison to the story of millions of other people. Such as this Sri Lankan woman featured in this article who paid a wonderfully charming con artist $600 to take her into slave labour, thinking she was going to a well paid housekeeping job to support her daughter.
*There is a fine line between being good stewards and being tight, which sort of leads to the last one...
*It is always better to trust strangers, even at the risk of having your pockets dishonestly unburdened.
So, lets go with trusting, eh, rather than any other words that come to mind. I will admit that so far as an artistic representation goes, this probably does sum us up best...

"Where the spirit of God is there is freedom!"

Happy Freedom Day! I hope you have all enjoyed your celebration of the anniversary of the abolition of the slave trade act! Bono says... "Freedom has a scent like the top of a new born babies head." I love that.

I smelt the newest baby head ever a couple of days ago, fresh out of my sister's womb, when Hudson was hatched. It has to be one of the happiest, sweetest and most energising smells ever! I love him!

I'm stoked to have the happiness, sweetness and energy that my own internal and external freedom brings. But I don't want to get lazy with that freedom, which it's so easy to do, eh.

Like Jesus I want to be about freedom for the 20 million captives around the world. Yup.

So, keep radical in your pursuit of freedom, justice and hope for all people, not just cos it smells good but because that stuff is the stuff of God's heart.

initiation complete

We have arrived in London, wahoo!

Joanna still has not had the little Tinker which was due a week and a half ago. But on our first morning here my two best pals, Amanda and Marina bought over their little babies for brunch donning "Haere Mai" (Welcome in Maori) tee's that my dad had made for all the tikes.

We are currently watching a 6 nations rugby game between Wales and England with my mum in the room which means Tim has survived his initiation into my whanau. She is Welsh and she goes mad and they are currently kicking Englands butt which means Tim is experiencing the full shebang. My first childhood memory is of my Uncle Howard breaking the sofa from a trimphant leap when we had all my mums side over for a Welsh match when I was two.

It is such a treat getting to spend each day with my beloved family and friends, wah.

(Walking through Hyde park.)

Frrrrreeeedooomm

Today we were in one of those posh gift shops that sells stinky candles and soaps and lots of breakables like sculptures of angels. We spotted a sign that cracked us up: "Unattended children will be sold as slaves". It was great cos after having a chuckle I was prompted to think about this whole human traffiking thing that has become quite a global campaign over the last year or so. (Don't you just love that serious part of your brain.)
Some of the stats are crazy:
*20 million people are held in bonded labour around the world
*profits from the trafficking of people are US $7 billion a year
*of the 600,000 to 800,000 men, women, and children trafficked across international borders each year, approximately 80 per cent are women and girls, and up to 50 per cent are minors.

A really important day for this modern slavery is coming up later in March- Freedom Day. It is a day for those around the globe to create awareness about this traffiking evil and to show solidarity for those kept in bondage and a renewed vision to see everyone experiencing freedom.
I love the concept of freedom. It is one of those words that is used so incessantly and has been for so long that it really should have lost some impact. But I just don't think it has. Everyone, to some degree, knows what it is like to be in chains. I also love it because it sums up, in one theme, all my spiritual and social passions! Jesus came to earth to see all of God's children set free and this liberation is to be experienced both inwardly and outwardly. Down with oppressive lack of hope, unjust economic structures and evil social problems!
Anyway, there are some really fantastic websites out there for you to get equipped to get on board the Freedom Day ship on March 25th.
Stop the Traffick has some ideas for taking the issue into your workplace/school etc.
Set All Free has some brilliant resources for churches to get involved, especially check out the pdf of worship ideas.
I like this prayer from there:

Gracious and liberating God
Lift us beyond the burdens of pain and guilt
Build our memories
into life-giving resolutions
Give us the vision of a new creation
Strengthen us to act
for justice and human dignity
And set all free.

Amen.

the art of underestimation

When my sister visited Niagara Falls with my parents before I was born she spontaneously burst into the old chorus "Deep and wide, deep and wide, there's a fountain flowing deep and wide (Hallelujah)"

Joanna, today I appreciated the riduculousness of you singing that particular thing.

The falls really are very big- ginourmously gargantuan actually. It actually made me giggle, you silly sausage. (Yes, yes, okay you were two.)

I couldn't help but peek over the rails and imagine sliding down the thunderous waters. Before we went I did some googling and found out about the 16 daredevils who attempted the vertical wet ride. There were some mad hatters in there- the first person was 63 year old Annie Taylor (I suspect a relative of my crazy brother in law, Steve) a school teacher who took her cat who both lived to tell the tale of the wooden barrel. There was also a chap in a steel barrel who didn't make it who took his turtle who did make it and then there was a guy a couple of years ago who tried it in a kayak. Hello?

When Tim saw me researching these people and their modes of transport he laughed nervously and then this morning checked the boot of the car for any stray barrels. But don't worry folks, the Niagara downhill stayed in my imagination. I was just having too much fun singing Deep and Wide in honour of my sister.

A vertible feast for my eye balls

Stratford, Ontario is a wonderful place. A quaint wee town where my Aunt and Uncle abide...

Today we visited the pinery, a reserve on the shores of a grand lake. The great mass of freshwater had completley frozen over, and in the process of doing so had created what I fondly have come to label "snoaves". They are mounds of snow and sand in the shape of waves in great banks 10 metres from the shore line. One of the most peculiar and spectacular things I ever did see.

We have more sights of today- and other Stratford ones including white squirrels - online. (And eventually other Canada and South America photos... what a palava)

614

So we have just spent a week at 614 Regent Park, a Salvation Army church based in Canadas oldest housing project. It is ghetto.
This small square of land houses about 15000 people of multitudes of ethnicities. The work of the 614 crew that live there seems to be one of the most authentic expressions of faith I have ever seen in my life. The relationships run deep and the commitment to revealing hope possibly even deeper.
It was a total inspiration to see the Army in the sort of place it was birthed to be, doing such uncomplicated Jesus like business.
"....They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations." Isaiah 61:4

I heart San Francisco

What a charming town! Yesterday Andrew took us on a wee tour around the place... it was fab eating crab meat and sourdough bread on pier 39 (with Ben and Jerrys for pudding) and seeing some rad views. Intensely cold for our systems though, which have gotten fairly used to 30-40 degrees! In fact, I am crook today. It is great practice for in-the-minuses-Canada though. Had coffee in "Coffee for the people" on Haight St, which is so my favourite place. Organic and Fair Trade and fully using their space for inspiring action and raising awareness on issue. Love Love Love. Their sticker wall will be fuel for my blog for many months to come! Off to visit Salvation Army 614 Toronto tommorrow, which will be really great. Except we forgot to email the guy we are hoping to stay with, um, till this morning. So....

Anyway, San Fran, come on down:

The Bushman- a hilarious larrykin that hides behind his twigs and Boos daydreaming pedestrians!

Houston we have a photo... or two....

If you are interested or want visual evidence that we have been really having adventures and not just making them up while we sit and eat ice cream on the sofa.... here they art...
South America on our camera before it broke
Disposable Camera numero uno

corrupt fried chicken

Half way to San Francisco. We are awaiting our next flight, to LA. Due to a bit of a mix up with our flight from Chile to Lima we had to take the roadtrip option... 21 glorious hours on a bus. We were really pushing it fine as we had a flight out of Lima a couple of hours after our arrival there. They also were wanting to take a super long time getting our luggage out of the bus so we were begginning to freak out abit. Tim was obviously dissapointed that 5 weeks in South America had produced no dabbling in bribery and corruption and felt this was his moment, reaching into his pocket he was determined to bribe the bus driver to get our bags off first. (what a rascal) In the end some kind chap helped us and lost time was made up by our cantankerous and road ragey taxi driver who halved the 30 minute airport trip.
Anyway... here at the stop over in El Salvador a couple of vagabond cops were the cherry on the top of our Latin American adventure. In answer to our question about where everyone was getting these delicious looking boxes of fried chicken and chips from we were met with a mysterious whisper and some glances over their shoulders. With a backhanded $10 dollars on some gloomy steps Tims desire for the corruption experience was sated and 20 minutes later we sat enjoying our greasy goodness.
Anyway, boarding queues are calling and this plane really needs to be on time for us to catch our Greyhound down to see Tims bro, Andy, in San Fran. So adios, amigos from the Americas south of the US of A.

Carneval

All over South America over this last month Carneval has been being celebrated (originally a pagan celebration of meat, most famously manifested in Rio's elaborate street parade.) A major theme of it is water wars. Here in Cochabamba you literally can not walk for 5 minutes down the street without several water balloons whizzing past or occassionally meeting their target (its pretty refreshing in the heat, thanks.) On Saturday we joined in the fun, after buying 50 filled balloons for 5 B's we trawled the city streets and woe to any rascal with a water gun who surely felt our liquid wrath. (Well, Tim's. Most of us were just the subjects of hilarity with our totally lame throwing skills. Generally soaking only ourselves.)
This weekend is the climax of the festivities with 2 statutary days off, the only holiday many Bolivianos will get all year. But this year the celebration is having a stand off with disaster as the clouds decide to join the party, bringing the most rain for 40 years. Flooding and land slips are making several appearances all over Bolivia. As the heavens declare their own water war the president has declared the country to be in a state of national emergencey.
52687 families have been made homeless from the damage
73495 acres of crops have been wiped out
21 main roads impassable
35 dead, 6 dissapeared
1200 with dengue fever (risen from 20 in 5 days)
and the stats are climbing by the minute....

It's already in a pretty sorry state, old Bolivia, (it receives the 3rd most global aid) and you've got to wonder why this stuff has to happen to such a country. A bit of me says- "its just the self perpetuating cycle... if the politically situ wasn't so unstable then infrastructure could cope with natural disasters etc." But a big chunk of me simply wonders why nature (which ultimatley God could stop!) chooses to let loose so regularly on places that can't cope.

(A site I have found since being in South America is the Democracy Center, which has offices in Cochabamba and San Fran, whose aim is "building democracy from the ground up", they have some rad articles. They also have a super interesting blog that has some light reading on Carnival from Bolivian perspective.)

rainy season in the rainforest...

is pretty flippin rainy!

We have been here (Trinidad, a jungle town tucked into the amazon) for a few days, got a short flight out from Cochabamba to do some floating on the river, wildlife spotting.

The river is flooded by 15 metres, so we were mostly passing the canopy layer of the jungle (lots of birds, hehe)

Although we saw.... pink dolphins (yes, there are freshwater dolphins in the world... and they are pink!! totally news to me) monkeys, tucans, giant kingfishers and storks, a snake, little amazon beaver things, fireflys, bats and their babies in our room! And a whhooollllee lot of trees.

Generally all very wet, has rained the entire time, like, torrentially...soaked to the bones! We even got freezing cold, blue lips and everything... that would have been a peculiar story, hyperthermia in the hot, wet season in the jungle! Back to the Hasties now ( we are just waiting for our flight at the moment) and then only one more week in Bolivia.

politiko

I don't know if you know, but we only just really made it to Cochabamba because of the political unrest. It has been super crazy but has settled down. Anyway, Nathanael, the oldest Hastie kid (14 year old genius, upcoming social entrepeneur/ UN Secretary General/ global justice advocate) has started a blog on the socio-political experience in Cochabamba. His first one describes the recent hooha.

Update from Cochabamba

In the last week we have...

Visited islands made out of reeds on the lake in Puno where thousands of people have lived for centuries.


Stayed on the beautiful Isle Del Sol in Copacobana, where we did heaps of trekking and swimming in the snow melt of lake Titicaca. It is the birthplace of the first Inca...


Stayed in a flash hotel in La Paz that we thought was 20 Bolivianos for both of us ($4 nz) and then it turned out in the morning it was um... $20 american, hehe. (Thats a HEAP of money for Bolivia!!!!)


Been to the jungle (Coroico) and went tramping to these waterfalls. It was freaky thinking about all the things out there that want to eat us! Okay, not so much, but imaginations really run wild in the wild! (There were hundreds and thousands of beautiful butterlies, that really wanted to hang about the water and our feet. It made me think about how they were so fragile- so much can kill them- but it doesn't stop them flying daringly about being what they were meant to be!)


Experienced some manic thunderstorms, both on the lake and in the jungle, where a roll of thunder actually feels like giants are playing bowls with gargantuan concrete balls over your room.

Left both our books on the bus to Cochabamba, which also had all my written and addressed postcards in. (Yep, I was totally sending all ye postcards!! But now they are all vamos!)


Made it to Cochabamba, Bolivia, where we are staying with our friends the Hastie Family for a couple of weeks. They are kiwi Salvation Army officers working here in the Calicanto Community. It has been rad hanging out with them the last couple of days... lots of food and laughs! (we have also watched 5 episodes of MacGyver. They totally have the first 5 series.)


Been a comedy duo of clowns for the Sunday school...(I have the aff and Tim has the plait hat)
Okay, off to watch another Macgyver. He rocks.

sometimes it is okay to be a sheep, you know...

Today we got the bus from Copacabana to La Paz. About half way we stopped at a little town, the driver yelled something down the back so me and Tim looked at each other and went "Ah, toilet stop". Everyone got off the bus, Tim said "Need some fresh air lu?" No, no, I didn´t really need any fresh air, or the toilet, so I carried on reading my book. Moments later I looked up as the bus groaned back into life... why was I the only passenger left? did they ALL need the loo? Were they ALL sick of stale bus air? Something fishy was going on. All became clear as the bus rolled onto a big barge on the lake and I looked out of the window to see everyone else queuing up for a speed boat. RATS I WISH I HAD LEARNED SPANISH BEFORE I CAME HERE! WHY DIDNT I NEED THE TOILET! OR FRESH AIR!!
It turned out to be in my favour though, for after 20 minutes of rolling along the lake we all met up again on the bus on shore AND I was in the money! They all had to pay 1 Boliviano for the speed boat ride! mohaha. (Yep, I saved 15 cents... gonna get a treat..)

The South Americans know how to....

Party:
Wherever there is a group of more then 2 or 3 people they seem to be having the most joyous and exciting time...chatter... laughter... exubiant. Mind you, the last few days we have seem some real partying with panpipe karaoke on the back of a truck and hundreds of gleefull dancers following a day of parading through the streets throwing confetti and having mass it seemed. (That was a bit weird)
Protest:
In every major city we have been in we have been met with large scale protests, at least one or two. Complete with plattoons of armoured guards with tear gas, tanks and water canons. Todays protest in La Pas was the biggest I have seen in my life, at least 5000 miners and their families swarmed the main streets. They are camped out together, united in their desire for change. (Well, okay, thats what we think it is, seeing as our Spanish isn´t crash hot, speaking of which....)
Crash:
Yep, we have been here two weeks and already have witnessed the world infamous dangerous roads. on our first bus trip we were traffic jammed for 3 hours or so because 2 trucks had had a head on. And on our way into Bolivia we passed a truck that had been full of humans (like a cheap bus) that had come of the road onto it´s side, leaving about 70 locals and the vehicle upturned. We were gonna cycle down the worlds most dangerous road tomorrow, but dont really feel much need to anymore! ´
So, this is why South Americans truly know how to Party, Protest and Pcrash. (Silent P, okay, gosh.)

Blisters, archeology and natures wee treasures

Have just returned from Ye Trail of Ye Inca. WOWZA, hard work! Days beginning between 4 am and 6 am and lasting between 6 and 10 hours, mucho up hill mountaineering styles!

Gods finger prints all over it: from the magnificent snow capped craggy peaks to the tiny orchids splashed all round- colourful intricacies the size of your fingernail...

We were with a crazy bunch of singing Brazillians. We got our first warning when we turned up to the 4 day trek feeling totally illprepared (no hiking boots or rain gear) and they exclaimed "Ooh, you two are very professional, yes?" They began the trail using plastic shopping bags to hold their sleeping bags, mattresses and clothes, and finished as a choir of sopping, sodden singers. (Honestly, they sang non stop, from Britney to the Beatles) One of the new amigos from the group will stick in our minds forever I think, he was a pure breed of Edward Scissorhands and Mogley from the Jungle Book, he walked at 1 metre an hour and (as you can imagine) arrived consistently 2 hours late to each meeting point.

Arrived at the Sun gate at Macchu Picchu today at 7 o clock. A mindblowing thing, this little Inca city plopped right in the middle of the jungle. My favourite moments there were when the walls came alive with animals- the lazy chinchillas cosied up in the corner of a shrine, the massive purple millipede hurrying along the steps... the baby llamas: WAH!

The drive home was lit up by the nightly lightening display over the Andes and energy infused by having to push our coach out of a hole it got severely stuck in.

Very tired now, but trying to stay up till a sensible going to bed time. Off on a bus to Puno (On Lake Titicaca) tommorrow for some time on the floating Islands.