Were it not for the lush Amazon rainforest that surrounds it, Wanderland could almost look like a piece of 19th-century Dutch farmland; a straight, muddy path cuts through rows of neatly arranged farms with perpendicular houses and barns.
A typical morning begins with blond-haired, blue-eyed, smiling boys in horse-drawn carriages picking up gleaming jugs of fresh milk from the farm gates to be made into cheese.
The name of this rural idyll carved out of the dense green of the jungle hardly seems to need translation, even from the Plautdietsch, a mixture of Low German and . . .