THE WINNER
What a howler
In my favourite photo of my sister and me as kids, she is holding a cute baby monkey in her arms. Another sits on my shoulder. Fast forward 30 years and once again there is a monkey on my shoulder. This time, I am trying to feed six-month-old orphan Bridget (named after Bridget Jones) her bottle of milk. But Bridget is not interested in the milk. She is more interested in pulling my hair. Tepid milk dribbles down my neck and then, warm urine too. It may not sound like it but I am having one of the best experiences of my life.
This May, I "volunteered" for three weeks at the Caraya Project in Cordoba province, Argentina. Carayas, or black howler monkeys, live in family groups in the rainforests of Latin America. The project aims to rescue and rehabilitate ex-pets and zoo specimens, with the ultimate objective of returning the animals to the wild. Seven groups of rehabilitated carayas live free in the woods on the isolated 350-hectare (860-acre) site north-west of Buenos Aires. They spend their days foraging, sunbathing and playing. The remainder live in cages while they are rehabilitated. The site is not their true habitat. The trees here are mainly fast-growing conifers and non-native to Argentina and it is bloody cold too. Reminds me of Scotland.
Hunting for the pet trade and loss of habitat (to make way for soya production) are two of the threats faced in the wild by the caraya. These issues are discussed on educational tours given to tourists who visit the project. On day five, although I can barely speak Spanish, I am asked to take some visitors to see a rehabilitated group. They watch as the monkeys swing and fly through the trees. It's a fantastic sight and the tourists are very enthusiastic. They are also interested in me – how I managed to end up here on a monkey reserve in the middle of nowhere. One man asks if I'm studying monkeys or the Argentinians.
My three weeks are spent feeding, cleaning and observing. As a monkey novice, the babies are the least risky for me to handle. Even when they bite, it rarely hurts. The baby orphans are like naughty toddlers. Demanding, but great fun. I loved getting close to these amazing creatures. Three weeks fly past and I am sad to leave the wild landscape, the other volunteers, the Argentinians who patiently tolerate my attempts at Spanish, and, of course, the monkeys.
The project welcomes volunteers from all over the world. Spanish is an advantage but the only requirements are to be physically able and available for at least three weeks. A charge (I paid €450) is made for accommodation (it's basic), food (yours and the monkeys) and goes towards funding the purchase of a new home in the rainforest near Paraguay. It is pricey but these monkeys are the business.
Visit volunteer-with-howler-monkeys.org for more information
Monty lives in Edinburgh
The judge: Richard Hammond, editor of greentraveller.co.uk, said: "This is the wittiest entry, grabs you early, describes the place well and provides a description of the responsible tourism project without it sounding too worthy. Plus, Monty Roy is a good name for a travel writer!"
The prize: A pair of first-class InterRail passes, courtesy of Rail Europe (raileurope.co.uk), valid for up to one month throughout 29 European countries. The prize does not include accommodation, food or travel from the UK into continental Europe.
THE RUNNERS-UP
South Korea's model village
Heyri proudly declares itself "The loveliest village on the earth" where "all artists are dreaming". In reality, this aesthetic oasis sits on an ex-military base five miles from the heavy artillery and fanatical security of the Demilitarised Zone dividing North and South Korea. Green getaway, environmental enclave, living symbol of peace and serenity? Impossible. Yet as I sit here amid cutting-edge design, sipping green tea in the autumn sunshine, all these things ring true.
It is a soothing space of world-class architecture housing 150 unique homes, galleries and restaurants. I am staying at the beautiful Forest Garden, home and guesthouse of the lovely Mr and Mrs Kim. Over breakfast of Korean rice cakes and sweet potatoes the Kims explain that Heyri is the brainchild of a few creative souls who wanted a village for artists, writers and architects. Nothing in Heyri is left to chance. Environmental stipulations are inflexible and buildings have a strict height limit to ensure the surrounding mountains and setting sun are not obscured from view. In contrast to the futuristic, angular buildings, roads are curved and contain no asphalt. Streetlamps are dimmed to imitate moonlight which, Mr Kim assures me, "allows plants and animals to sleep." At least 45% of Heyri must remain green.
Forest Garden invites the forested mountainside in through the floor-to- ceiling glass walls. Crisp lines, pale colours, wood and stone complement nature outside. This special place costs around £90 a night to stay.
As the sun casts dappled leaf patterns across my teacup, I look out over some of the world's most prestigious architecture. "The loveliest village on earth?" Let's just say there's nowhere else I'd rather be right now.
heyri.net
Gaynor Jones, Orkney
Volunteering in Italy's green heart
Three hours under the Umbrian sun, and I'm sweating more than I ever do at the day job. Pruning an organic olive grove sounded like a rewardingly peaceful two-week break, but as I drag my purple ladder over to the next gnarly, overgrown tree, the task ahead seems impossible – the grounds of Villa Pianciani have more than 3,000 trees, and they all need serious work.
Feliceto, a local olive farmer, is my volunteer group's instructor. His walnut-like skin is evidence of a lifetime spent outdoors. There is little verbal explanation – he speaks a regional dialect (even our translator is bemused) but tutting and head-shaking are clear enough in any language. He demonstrates how to hold the pruning saw, how to cut the spindly shoots in the heart of the tree. This lets light into the lower-hanging branches, where the best olives grow.
Mid-morning, and we take our first much-needed coffee break. It is a chance to appreciate the beauty of Umbria – Italy's "green heart". The Spoleto valley is one of those "why don't I live here?" places. Back to work, and despite the exertions and occasional scratches, it's fantastic fun.
By midday the farm cottage table is overflowing with mushroom pancakes, barley salad and baked fennel and a cauldron of steaming tomato pasta – all cooked in organic olive oil from last year's harvest. Hard work is richly rewarded in the hills of Umbria.
Tim Woods, Colchester
A lion at bedtime in Zambia
"Yeah, a lion ate one of the horses last week," says the Old African Hand with the sort of blithe cheeriness that comes from living 60 years in the Zambian outback. "We're going to have to keep an eye on it." A peal of uneasy laughter ricochets through the group. We are staying in the open air tonight. If a lion were to approach, there are just us and a few moth-eaten mosquito nets.
Ironically, we had travelled to Mutinondo Wilderness because it is not generally known for its big game. Instead this 10,000-hectare (24,700-acre) no man's land in northern Zambia is cherished for its smaller wildlife which thrives within a wild expanse of natural rock pools, granite whaleback hills and endless, hazy woodland.
It is an ambitious conservation project and a privately managed land reserve. The lodge is a labour of love and prides itself on the use of renewable energy sources such as sun stoves and a wind generator.
The sun goes down quicker than we can finish our sundowners but with the possibility of lions hanging faintly on the breeze, they are useful for Dutch courage all the same. The Old African Hand helps us light a fire and uses a telescope to point out Saturn and Jupiter, so easily seen without light pollution on a pitch black Zambian sky. This leads smoothly into card games and charades by gas light. As we turn in for the night the wilderness air is cool and quiet. A low gnarl seems to echo across the valley. But it could just be the wind.
Contact the Mutinondo Wilderness by email on 2MWL@bushmail.net
Anna Brech, London
