THE SECRETS OF THE PLACES WHERE PEOPLE LIVE LONGEST
There are five spots on the planet where people are likelier to live to a great age than elsewhere. Life in these “blue zones” – small areas in Sardinia, Costa Rica, Japan, California and Greece – has been studied in great detail over the past two decades by Dan Buettner, a National Geographic fellow and New York Times bestselling author.
Buettner and his colleagues have identified elements in the lifestyle of each of these communities that seem likely to account for the remarkable number of centenarians among them. We can’t all up sticks and move halfway round the world, though, so we challenged five writers to live the sort of lives they might do in each of the blue zones for a fortnight, to see what insights would emerge.
Nicoya, Costa Rica
‘A fortnight later, I can genuinely say I’d like to live like Nicoyans forever’
By Anna Tyzack
Coffee, fruit, homemade tortillas and a plate of eggs with rice and beans: this is the breakfast of champions in Nicoya, Costa Rica, which has the highest number of centenarians in the world, yet I’m struggling to sell it to my family here in London. The children are more than happy to try living as Nicoyans for a couple of weeks, but only if they don’t have to eat gallo pinto, the Costa Rican rice and bean dish, which is packed full of nutrients, complex carbs and antioxidants.
Eventually we agree that it can be substituted with hot chocolate, which, according to research by my eldest, is also a key component of a Nicoyan child’s breakfast.
As we set off to buy a stack of corn tortillas and a mountain of fresh fruit and vegetables (less than five per cent of an average Costa Rican diet is meat or fish), I explain the point of the experiment: to introduce Nicoyan diet and customs into our daily lives for two weeks to boost our health, happiness and, hopefully, our life expectancy, too. While the global average life expectancy is 72, in Nicoya it’s 85 and there are healthy 100-year-old grandparents on the school run.
According to David Rehkopf, associate professor of epidemiology and population health at the Stanford School of Medicine, who has spent years researching Nicoya’s long-living population, we can create our own “micro blue zones” by adopting their healthy habits. “The social behaviours seen in blue zones are things we can all integrate into our everyday,” he confirms.
Research shows that Nicoyans have a lower cellular age than the rest of the world; they’re younger on the inside, which scientists believe could be down to their diet and also their social system and community, which is more supportive than ours. Nicoyans also have younger immune systems that have endured less wear and tear, which experts attribute to their simple, nutritious, unprocessed way of eating and the fact they are less stressed.
Obviously we’d be happier and healthier if we played on the beach all day, the children point out when I show them a picture of the stunning Nicoyan peninsula, with its turquoise sea and white sand. Yet Nicoyans aren’t a bunch of beach bums. Sure, they prioritise sleep, but they also eat a rainbow of fruit and vegetables and spend much of their lives outside, working and playing sport, all habits we are advised to adopt. In Costa Rica, the focus is on promoting the health of the community with regular home check-ups rather than simply treating the sick – healthcare not sickcare.
Clapham, however, is not Costa Rica, so we will have to approximate Nicoyan habits: we can’t walk to school, but we will cycle there across the common. Nicoyan families tend to live in extended multi-generational communities, so we arrange to spend both weekends with my parents, cooking together and sharing parenting duties (lucky them). One thing we will not be adopting, however, is the machismo side of Nicoyan culture: many women stay at home doing menial tasks while their husbands go to work, which might account for why Nicoyan men tend to live even longer than women.
When I come downstairs on the first morning to our nanny playing Costa Rican music, I wonder how the experiment will go, but the older children are already halfway through their first Nicoyan breakfast and there isn’t a cereal box in sight. They’re still chattering about it as we cycle to school, excited for the arroz con pollo (chicken and rice) they’ll be having for supper. After school I send them into the garden to play cricket (Costa Rican families tend to be members of several local sports clubs).
At the weekend we spend time with my parents and cook together in the late afternoon, a barbecue with corn tortillas and vegetables, which we eat as a family like Ticos [Costa Ricans].
A fortnight later I can genuinely say I’d like to live like Nicoyans for ever. I now see for myself how much easier and more fulfilling life is when you embrace the support of the wider family. While my parents have their own busy lives and wouldn’t want to move in with us in London, I’m grateful we can spend time together in the holidays.
It’s been the Nicoyan diet that has been the biggest game-changer, however, particularly the breakfast. Costa Rican cooking is clean, high in fibre and lean protein, and the children absolutely love the way there are so many different foods on the plate. I struggled to find many authentic Costa Rican home cooking recipes online, although there are some on bluezones.com and on puravidamoms.com, a blog by an American mother of two who has been living in Costa Rica since 2001. I’m not saying the children have become fans of black beans – they still pull faces – and we still eat more meat than the average tico, but the boys are now happy to have rice with their eggs and tortilla for breakfast – I credit it for seeing off the endless snacking.
Ogliastra, Sardinia
‘The pounding headache I got from my sugar withdrawal was uncomfortable, but I stayed strong’
By Danny Danziger
Perhaps the first thing to do when adopting a new lifestyle is to get rid of the old one. Especially when the good folk of Ogliastra lead an existence light years away from my current one.
My home patch of southwest London is not mountainous; livestock do not roam nearby. As for “hard physical labour” – short of tapping the keys of my laptop, sometimes vigorously, I don’t indulge. Dietary differences are the most stark. The average Ogliastran rarely eats meat and revels in vegetables, particularly beans. I hate most vegetables, but particularly beans: string beans, broad beans and kidney beans (ugh), black, white and green beans, too …
But a fortnight is not an eternity – how difficult could this be? I already possess similarities to my Sardinian friends: I am socially engaged; I spend time with my extended family – and, hooray, I’m already old, although not yet a centenarian.
Sardinia’s community of shepherds is known to walk more than five miles a day. I loved that. I walked on the three rainy days, too – and I stamped in puddles, so there. As for hard physical labour, I ticked that off when I stayed with friends on the Wintershall Estate in Surrey. The estate has 1,000 acres – hilly ones too – and I roamed all over them for donkeys and sheep, as it was my job to feed them.
Hand-feeding the sheep was a doddle. Donkeys have large teeth, and that was scary – I did a finger count after every feed. I never got the hang of chopping wood and the axe was gently taken away from me on the first day. Driving the tractor was great fun, though – so many gears!
I never normally nap, but I took to that well. An hour of shut-eye in mid-afternoon is delicious, and paradoxically I slept better at night.
Food was always going to be the biggest challenge. The Frosties box looked tempting each morning, but I resisted. I threw away the Tangfastics and we had nearly run out of Jaffa Cakes anyway. The pounding headache that accompanied the sugar withdrawal was uncomfortable, but I stayed strong. I stuck to traditional Sardinian foods: pecorino cheese and pane carasau, a wafer-thin flat bread, seasoned salami, raw sea urchin, (never again), and bottarga, a cured and salted fish roe, which took a bit of getting used to. But I mostly enjoyed eating a completely different diet for two weeks. I now like vegetables – even beans.
If I stuck with the Ogliastra lifestyle it’s a dead cert I would become a centenarian. Do I want to, though? Walking every day, taking hour-long siestas, toiling on the farm, eating healthy food… it’s exhausting being so virtuous. I think I’ll mix and match. Those Jaffa Cakes look mighty tempting…
The island of Okinawa, Japan
‘The Okinawans can keep their tofu and floor sitting, but tai chi? I’m a convert’
By Polly Dunbar
I’m sitting on the wooden floor of my flat trying, and failing miserably, to find my ikigai. For citizens of the Japanese island Okinawa, the pursuit of ikigai – a passion which gives them purpose – underpins their entire way of life. The aim is to enter a state of “flow”, in which you’re so fully absorbed by an activity that time zips by. But all I can think about is how hard and uncomfortable it feels to sit like this.
Not only do people from Okinawa live longer than anywhere else in the world – there are 40-50 people over the age of 100 per every 100,000 inhabitants; far more than the global average – but they’re among the happiest, too. When I try to recreate their lifestyle, initially it’s not easy to understand why. Their culture is simple, with few indulgences – including furniture. Hence my position on the floor; the act of continually getting up and sitting down is believed to help maintain supple joints into old age. To my cosseted 42-year-old body, it feels like punishment.
As does the antioxidant-rich Okinawan diet, consisting of leafy vegetables including seaweed, rice, noodles, sweet potatoes, fish and tofu, with very little meat, no dairy and jasmine tea in place of alcohol. Inhabitants stop eating when they’re 80 per cent full, called “hara hachi bu”; fewer calories means fewer free radicals are created during the digestive process, leading to a lower risk of cancer and dementia and better cardiovascular health. Okinawan women also report fewer debilitating menopause symptoms.
But as a lover of refined carbs, lattes with sugar and pale, summery rosé, it’s a struggle. My caffeine and sugar-withdrawal headache lasts three days. I never quite manage to learn to like tofu, so I consume more fish, vegetables and rice noodles than ever before, doused liberally in soy sauce. I lose 3lb in a fortnight and feel less bloated and sluggish, but I’m also hungry and bored.
If the Okinawan diet is the gastronomical equivalent of a hair shirt, thankfully other elements of the lifestyle feel far more nourishing. The island’s residents prioritise their friendship groups, or moai, meeting several times a week for activities including singing and dancing. Frantically juggling work, partners and children means months can slip by without seeing my friends, but I manage to meet my closest friend twice in one weekend.
Okinawans don’t do strenuous exercise, but they move their bodies every day, preferably in nature. As the mother of an active three-year-old, my life is a whirlwind of racing from nursery to my desk to the park and home again; of trying not to lose it when he throws his shoes across the room. Relaxation is a distant memory, but when I start every morning with 15 minutes of tai chi – a Chinese martial art popular in Okinawa – its gentle, meditative effects are intensely soothing.
This slowness is central to the Okinawan philosophy; their lives are long, so they never rush. I try to take my time. I find 30 minutes for a walk in my local park or to pull up weeds in my garden. When I’m writing, I put my phone in another room and try to focus; a few times, I achieve that elusive “flow”.
Taking these moments for myself feels quietly radical; I’m lighter and less stressed, which benefits my son as much as me. The Okinawans can keep their tofu and floor sitting, but tai chi? I’m a convert.
Ikaria, Greece
‘The Ikarian lifestyle is more challenging when you live in Surrey and have a career, deadlines and bills’
By Nick Harding
Life on the island of Ikaria is idyllic. Think long lunches with friends and wine followed by afternoon naps. “Mindless” exercise such as walking and manual work. Fresh fruit and vegetables, fish caught from the sea, olive oil, goat’s milk and herbal teas made from antioxidant-packed herbs such as wild rosemary, sage and oregano. People there forget to die. Indeed, one in three residents lives past 90 (in the UK the figure is around 0.9 per cent). These golden oldies are also almost entirely free of dementia.
Sounds perfect doesn’t it? And if you live on this remote Aegean outcrop, I’m sure it is, because there the pace of life is dictated by the speed of your donkey. However, achieving longevity the Ikarian way is more challenging when you live in Surrey and have a career, deadlines, bills and a mild addiction to brutal exercise.
First, the easy stuff. Introducing a Mediterranean diet was simple. I eat lots of fresh food normally and for the sake of the experiment avoided supermarkets. Fruit and veg came from the greengrocer on the high street. I rarely eat meat and I’m lucky to live near a fishmonger, so I had a ready supply of fresh fish. I found goat’s yoghurt tastier than cow’s, though goat’s milk took some getting used to in my morning flat white. I also replaced butter on bread with olive oil without too much trouble.
Fasting and periods of hunger, also part of the Ikarian lifestyle, were not too much of a challenge as recently I’ve been on the 18-6 diet, skipping breakfast and only eating between 1pm and 7pm from Monday to Thursday. So far, so Ikarian.
Introducing mindless exercise took more effort. Ikarians walk through the mountains, forage and work in their gardens to stay fit. I go to the gym, attach myself to a range of monitors and obsess over calorie burn and effort levels. Away from the gym, my days are sedentary. Curtailing my physical exertion and replacing it with gentle strolls and gardening was not easy from a psychological perspective. I felt constantly restless and tried to fit in extra walks to make up for the perceived activity deficit, but never felt fully exhausted like I do after a Blaze HIIT class at David Lloyd.
I managed to take a few extra walks after work up nearby Box Hill. The gradient added a welcome physical challenge. There I foraged and spent painful minutes collecting nettles from the middle of a patch of brambles to avoid the ones on the edges that dogs had urinated on. The resulting nettle tea was surprisingly drinkable. I also found some wild garlic, which worked perfectly with sauteed mushrooms.
The hardest elements to introduce were, sadly, the best elements: the lunches, the socialising, the daytime drinking and the napping. My workday generally runs from 8.30am to 6.30pm, with 30 minutes for lunch. I am always busy. All my friends work, too, so finding time and company for lunch was difficult. On the few occasions I managed, it was not relaxing. Everyone was clock-watching and I was the only one who drank (modestly – to raised eyebrows). I couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt and anxiety. It was the same when I tried to nap during the day. Thankfully a few days off fell in the middle of the experiment and gave me more leeway for socialising, which I embraced.
After two weeks trying to be more Ikarian, I concluded that the dietary elements were worthwhile, but the other magic ingredients were not meant for people like me, embedded in the rat race and time-poor. And that’s sad, because my way of life seems often to end with cognitive decline and the regret of not having spent more time with friends and loved ones, while Ikaria and its nonagenarian evergreens remain a sun-dappled pipe-dream.
Loma Linda, California
‘Saying no to alcohol at a birthday party, a wedding, a family lunch, Father’s Day – that is tricky’
By Jenny Tucker
In true 1980s John McEnroe fashion, my eldest son squawked loudly in my face, “You cannot be serious!” I had just asked him to turn off his phone so we could spend a designated Sunday together as a family – all devices banned. He looked at me like I had asked him to chop off his big toe, before huffing to his room, where he remained for most of the day. This household bonding experience was no doddle to instigate.
Halfway through this experiment, I realised that much of life is about habits. We adhere to them because they provide structure and a sense of reassurance. Ordinarily, my husband and I start every morning with a cup of coffee and a digestive biscuit in bed. We take it in turns to make the brew, then we sit together, reading the news on our laptops and chipping in every now and again about “the state of things”. Friends who know the score laugh at our adherence to this routine, but we’ve been doing it for aeons and it makes us happy. Swapping an experimental Colombian dark roast for a herbal cuppa just didn’t cut it.
Other aspects of the Loma Linda living were easier to handle. Exercise wasn’t a problem. My husband plays tennis most days, I attend regular Pilates classes and we have two dogs that demand long walks. For years I haven’t eaten meat, so veggie food is no stranger to our table.
Saying no to alcohol, as the Seventh-day Adventists of Loma Linda do, was trickier. It turned out that during the two weeks of the experiment, our social calendar included a birthday party, a wedding, a family lunch, Father’s Day and an Australian mate staying at our house for a while. All of these would ordinarily include bucketloads of booze. As we watched others quaff ice-cold glasses of summer-infused sangria, or babble on about their crisp and cheeky bottle of chardonnay, I felt a maddening sense of FOMO. “Might I have a drink problem?” I wondered silently to myself over yet another glass of elderflower pressé.
And even though we were both entirely willing to apply our talents to voluntary actions, it wasn’t easy to arrange. A friend of ours does shifts cooking meals at a homeless charity. We tried to join in, but were stalled by the time involved in pursuing the necessary DBS checks. I saw a sign outside my local charity shop asking for assistants, but when I returned later they’d been inundated with offers. Frustrated, we turned our good intentions closer to home. I took a meal to a friend’s family while they were having a disruptive kitchen extension, and one afternoon my husband announced he’d carried an old lady’s bags to her car at Sainsbury’s. At first, she had thought he was after the pound coin from her trolley and told him to get lost.
But perhaps the most difficult aspect of all this for me was doing little on the Sabbath, as the Adventist lifestyle requires. I have ants in my pants. And after working most of the week, Sunday is my catch-up-on-chores day. The pile of ironing in the corner was calling me, and I found it hard to ignore the lawn, which seemed to be growing higher by the second. My husband was far more inclined to be happily horizontal on his garden lounger, and even fell asleep for a staggering three hours.
In an attempt at distraction, I strolled into my local church for their morning service. It was a chance to sit quietly and reflect on how things were going in my life. After a while, I felt more light-hearted than I had in an age. I am not a religious person, yet there was something about the soothing voice of the priest and the singing of the hymns that calmed my soul. Returning home, I felt strangely ethereal. But then I saw the pile of ironing teetering in the corner. Habits are not easily changed.
Are you tempted to adopt any lifestyle habits from those residing in ‘blue zones’? Please let us know in the comments below
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