Dateline: March 30th 1976 12:00. 58 6th Street, Johannesburg, South Africa
Route from London to the "ferry" in Yemen
I can only assume that I didn't feel that the moment of me leaving UK was poignant enough for me to take any photo's of our departure from Hampstead somewhen, probably in late September/ early October in 1975. That or the shots (like a lot of my ancient pix), are long since tossed or lost. But, if there were, they are not (so far) available in my portfolio
Difficult to believe as I was taken by the idea that if I did a sort of promo for the trip including video, or similar chronological facsimile, I could get a free one on some other overland, maybe even the follow on one to Johannesburg which was the final trip destination.
I was heading to my mates in Nairobi, Redmond and Shirl who I had met years back through Uni mates. He had a job in accounting there. What did I know about expat status back then?
There were about 18/20 of us set out in the Mercedes truck heading to Nairobi. Most of the others being much braver than I, having no such mates or job once they arrived, wherever it was.
There were 2 trips, both on trucks, one to Johannesburg via Nairobi, and the other to Kathmandu. We traveled together until Istanbul. The possible arrival in Nairobi was about 2 - 3 months, some when in December, maybe. I had chosen this trip because it was way out of the normal Sahara/ central Africa route. As I understood it, this route had not been traveled before
Most of us had backpacks, the less than travelers, or the more adventurous had suitcases. Jay, a beautiful Canadian lady (they're all like that) that I had the hots for, actually brought all of her professional kit for working as an X-Ray technician for South Africa. She was really smart. I was not so well organised.
We had a certain space to store our stuff in the truck. I had chosen to bring my own tent and sleeping bag, so I had my own space at night. Others shared (more on this later)
I had my fairly new Praktica 35mm SLR camera and also a rinky dink 8mm movie camera which I seriously thought could make some kind of decent home movie esq travelling commentary
I also brought a few condoms, just in case
The previous few days were a bit hectic getting everyone's visa's, especially for Saudi Arabia, which we didn't get in London, but eventually got in Jordan.
Lets see, there were about 20+ at the outset
Canadians: Jay, Wes & Carol
Brits: Me, Chris, Caroline, Cheryl,
US: Mollie
NZ: George
Ozzy: Maggie
Driver: Tony, Brit. Assistant, South African
We left London and got onto the channel ferry early PM, and of all things, I met Chris (I think) the best friend of Jill, my first girlfriend at Brunel, (see my first post), on board heading off to Paris on her honeymoon. She had lost touch with Jill, so I never did managed to find out what happened to her.
Can't remember many specifics, (this was 43 years ago), and the pix I have are pretty much my only clues as to route
It looks like 1000Km from Calais to Munich, so I assume, as we caught the afternoon ferry, that we took 2 days or more to get there
So assume we camped out a couple of nights on the way, probably October 1st 1975
I remember being pretty pissed and tired the night we arrived in Munich, after our Octoberfestivities.
We drove out of Munich fairly late and pitched even later. Luckily, the driver that night was very professional and stayed sober and got us to our camp site
I think the musical tents started that night.
I think I ended up being host to Mollie and some Aussy guy who grunted their way through the night next to me, in my tent,
This wasn't how it was meant to work, but we've got a few months to go
Dachau was only about 30Kms away, and this was our first tourist stop.
It was definitely a harrowing experience, even 30 years after it was liberated by the US 7th Army, the sheer horror of what people can do was truly shocking
Mollie, who was Jewish, had a hard time here and broke down. I was there to assist.
From there, we headed down to Venice, which as I'd camped out there the previous year, was pretty hum drum, for me anyway.
The trucks carried all the equipment that we would need for rough camping, including camping, cooking and bedding, plus a selection of spares that would deal with most breakdown eventualities, well, almost
There were probably 5 dual seats on either side of the truck with most accessible personal gear between them.
Us passengers sat staring out on the left or the right. When it got cold, we would roll down the covers and put on lots of layers
The food was a bit of a stitch up. Before we left, we all "agreed" because we didn't know any better, to let the drivers drive, and the rest of us would take it in turns to cook/ wash up. so the drivers had it really easy.
There was a kitty and I think 3 in each group to do everything for a meal, breakfast, lunch dinner etc, so probably a 5 - 7 meal turn around.
I can really only be specific about arriving in Greece where we camped in a remote area that was surrounded by pine trees. I also remember a whole pile of wild dogs roaming around. It was chilly, but the scents of pine resin on the night breeze as we sat by the fire apparently, were unforgettable.
It was just after we passed into Turkey from Greece that my humour reasserted itself.
Up to that point we had all been a bit strangers, but, apart from a few of the "outlier" personalities, we were beginning to get on.
We had stopped for lunch on the road, and I thing Wes and Carol had gone into a restaurant for lunch. As we were kitting everything back into the truck, Carol started whining to Wes (they were married) about a piece of cheese.
It went backwards and forwards for about 2 - 3 minutes, along the
Wes: "I can't find my cheese",
Carol: "well it was there earlier",
Wes: I didn't eat it"
Carol: "Well I cant find it!",
Wes: "But I had it earlier"
into which, Smith, nonchalantly offers "Well Wes, it certainly sounds like a fait accompli to me"
Only Chris got it, which was perfect for me as I've always felt that humour is best when it's subtle enough that only the brightest get what you are on about. (Hint - we had just left Greece)
I've always had a chuckle about that one
On to Istanbul.
Probably October 16th?
On my trip to Greece back in 1974, last year, Beevor, being half Greek had heard too many Greek horror stories about Turks, so we decided not to go to Istanbul. Big mistake.
But, I did go there, and had a fantastic time. The sheer scale of the mosques, churches, the palaces.
The immensity of the Aya Sophia, the sheer devotion put into the Blue Mosque and the entire concept of Topkapi, the treasures and the Hareem, the Suk and the people
The Orient. The crossroads of ancient civilisations. Magnificent.
I decided not to be swayed by unsubstantiated stories again.....
Well, mostly anyway
Even though I had the transport, and "accommodation" was going to be free in the camping mode, there wasn't a great deal of free cash to spare. I splurged and bought a fish on the dockside
We were here for at least 3 days. It was incredible, totally amazing like nothing I had ever experienced before.
I toured everywhere and loved it, and the food, especially the yogurts.
Cheap too, at least it was 45 years ago.
There was a huge mosque in town, it must have been the Süleymaniye Mosque where about 6 or 7 of us visited. Interestingly, after taking off our footwear, we, tourists, were ushered into a central area in the mosque and we could see the men in front of us praying, and the women, behind us, similarly. I guess the ladies are of some lesser order than tourists, male or female.
I do remember the Turks were incredibly mysoginistic, and would really harras the ladies. Eventually, we had to accompany them and just tell these hot bloods very civilly, "this is my sister". It really was magic. Absolutely zero problem from then on
Eventually we head out, probably mid - late October, heading to Troy (what was left of it) via Gallipoli for the Kiwi's and Oz folks on board.
We had been wandering around in Istanbul with the other truck, travellers off to Nepal, but this was it, the departing of the ways.
Mollies beau of the last few days was heading off to Nepal, so she moved in with me, and well, moved on me etc etc. My tent was only occupied by me, and like several times from here on, when it came to ladies, first come, first served as it were.
This did of course mean that I had to give up on my desires for any of the other ladies, but, that's showbiz
As I quickly discovered, Mollie had an insatiable, indeed, voracious desire for sex, Suffice it to say, that by the time she departed (in Addis), or more likely, I departed, I had had enough, if not more than enough sex than I needed for a lifetime.
Just kidding ladies, as several young, and not so young ladies will attest, that's total hyperbolic bolix, and false, but it certainly felt like a relief when she left. Unfortunately, looking back, Chris had to bare the brunt of my relief to be celibate for a while, with unforeseen and possibly unfortunate consequences
Sex for me, hod got really boring
This was a big truck, with 20 ish of us heading in a generally south east direction. most of us had certainly never done anything like this before.
Chris, Caroline and Cheryl were all nurses on their first trip, several were from Aus - Maggie, NZ, George and 1 other and had already been on several road trips. Most of us had some money, but the foreigners had more than the Brits
The speed was maybe 200 - 300 kilometres per day. Usually up early like 7:30, breakfast then starting maybe by 9:00 or 10. Lunch somewhere around 1:00, then maybe another 4 hours stopping for meat/ veg for the dinner crew at whatever likely village presented itself.
Stews were popular because you could make everything in one big pot.
Some days we would hardly travel, some days not at all. Others, travel through the day, evening and into the night to the small AM hours
By and large, after the initial rush of actually travelling in foreign parts has passed, sad to say, the travelling actually became mundane and on long runs through arid desertified areas, monotonous, but that was later
So from Istanbul, down to Gallipoli, then off to Ephesus which appeared to be a few columns and about a kilometer of road. It was once, apparently, a great Greek seaport, but now, with the tilt of landmasses and tectonic movements, was actually about 4 Kms from the sea.
I look at Wiki for Ephesus and Troy, and there are huge buildings and museums all around the area. Nothing like that in 1975. Just a few standing arches and columns
We eventually found the place that looked like it might have been Troy, and disembarked.
I remembered some of my classics and screamed
"Come out of there Paris you dirty bastard, and bring the missus with you or you are going to be sorry!"
No one knew what the hell I was on about.
Oh well, so much for a University education
As you can see, the main draw, was an arch and a few remaining structures. Almost nothing remotely suggesting a 1000 ships, or anything remotely connected to Brad Pitt or large wooden horses
But, I did sense that a long time ago, the Greeks could have actually accomplished much of what Homer told us they did.
Of the fabled plains and ancient city......
Just bushes and goats.
Well, it was sacked and destroyed after all.
So, next to a stunning sight: calcium falls of Pamukkale,
I recall camping here for the night and getting up to use the hot springs about 2am. It was a wonderful experience. I even got in naked, this was a first for me.
From here, its a long chilly drive to the Syrian border.
There was one night when we were all totally knackered and probably pissed, after a long drive, and we all collapsed and went to bed leaving lots of our gear just hanging around.
Of course, next morning, several items had been stolen. I forget who's was stolen, maybe Jays, but definately Mollies. We went to the local police, but all they were prepared to do was write up a report.
Mollie (I think it was her, but it may have been Jay), was insured, but the insurance company refused it because the police didn't make the report official with any kind of stamp. Tough luck!
From here on, we have night guards for the camping
At some stage, heading to Syria, we passed through a small village in southern Turkey with several restaurants and cafes.
Backgammon is a national sport in Turkey. Everyone (well, all the men anyway) plays it and this village was no exception.
I think we were just having coffes late afternoon when both Tony and I were challenged to a friendly game of "Towli" with, I assume, (but I would wouldn't I) the better players in the village.
Both Tony & I were pretty good as it turned out, and we both won. This apparently, was quite a coup as the locals were amazed, and so was I.
We were close to Syria. We came throught the turkish bordr fairly late, and just camped on the side of the road that night.
Believe it or not, our first day of arriving in Syria, we found a family camping site, an actual vacation camping ground.
We drove in and camped, for a day or two. I just remember being a total sex slave for our entire time there.
OK. Enough already
It was here, next morning that Wes and Carol were in charge of breakfast, and had not organised any food. We all faced fried salad sandwiches. This was probably the worst meal of the trip, and thats saying a lot!
.
Aleppo and its glorious (now long since destroyed) Suk and fort was another wild ride into the past.
I remember having a coffee just outside of the Suk, and wandering around and into the ancient fort.
Something that has stayed with me since then, was the dreadful driving.
It appeared that there had just been a dual lane carriageway opened here, and we could see the traffic going up and down in every possible combination. It was pure mayhem
Onward to the truly beautiful, and now undoubtedly destroyed in the Syrian civil wars, the Norias of Hama.
These are, or more likely were, massive water wheels, which may date back to 496! Hmmmm
Coming upon them just before sunset, they were both an incredible surprise, and a sight of stunning beauty. As a tourist attraction (we were the tourists that day), these were incredible. I think they were about 15 or more metres in diameter, and had been there, or dialectically replaced since the 5th century...
WOW!
Both of these little vignettes, combined with the welcome and gentle attitudes of the guards in Al Asqua and on the Dead Sea (later) certainly had an incredible effect on my attitude to Israel.... As anyone who has discussed the middle east with me soon discovers
I stayed in the local youth hostel, and next day, was really glad to be allowed back into Jordan.
We head out to the Dead Sea. On the Jordanian side of course.
Again, the gentle wash of life in the village close to the sea.
Luckily, there are showers of fresh water as the sea water is incredibly saline. Apparently a Ph of 6.
Without a guide, we were very lucky. no one actually dived in (there were only about 5 of us there) If you get any in your eyes, it could blind you. Or, more humorously, for me anyway, if like one of the guys on the trip, you have the craps and fart in the sea, you are in DEEP trouble. Like running screaming to fresh water as in exit, pursued by Ph 6.
It's supposed to be very good for your skin. Hmmm. I didn't think so
It's actually incredibly oily and doesn't come off very easily either, but you can actually float high enough to read a newspaper, just like the photo's, but it's very uncomfortable and extremely silly to try. I did
We head down the desert highway along the old railway line as in the one blown up by Lawrence of Arabia. It may sound romantic, but I could feel the history and the changes in world history brought about right here. Well, I could imagine that.
I do remember the costs in Jordan, incredible exchange rate, and everything was very expensive. I didn't like the people either, very arrogant lot.
It got worse in Saudi
There's no doubt that the Nabatean city of Petra is an incredible edifice.
Many centuries ago, it was at the cross roads of the silk road and the ancient incense route.
We arrived fairly late after inspecting who sections of twisted metal that we imagined Lawrence had blow up 60 years ago.
We camped in a hotel car park. There was only one hotel there back then, and probably only 2 or three coaches of tourists. Hmmm, in 2014 there were nearly 600,000 visitors, makes you think
However, the day we had put aside to do our tourist bit, I was up at dawn, and found the hidden valley which leads you to the treasury. No tickets, no guards, no guides, just a valley floor about 2 metres wide, maybe 100 metres directly vertical on either side winding through massive hills. Apparently, it was hidden from a lot of invaders due to this geography
You are walking through the valley, and suddenly, this colossal structure is immediately in front of you. It's huge, but if you go inside, its only about 2 metres deep. Absolutely nothing inside.
The Treasury (no real reason to call it anything really) is a few metres in front of you, so you need to move up and down this perpendicular valley if you want a photo. Even my wide angle had trouble capturing it
There was no one else around that early, so I had the valley to myself until the hotel types had had breakfast and got onto their ponies. They started arriving around 9:00.
It's very impressive. Again, with burgeoning history and The Ancients all around
I spent a wild morning trying to get decent shots, climbing up the rocks (there's paths going up into the hills directly from the valley floor by The Treasury), and basically, investigating every building and carving.
I guess it was a bit of homage to T E Lawrence. Lots of this part of the trip was related to his (and David Lean) escapades during the first World War. So next, to Wadi Rum, then to Aqaba before the real bigotry of Saudi began. but we didn't realise that yet
We arrive in Aqaba as the sun is setting. It's a beautiful view from here looking over Eilat.
I'm glad I'm on this side.
The border into Saudi is a big pain, mainly because the truck breaks down and the engine needs new parts. We get, can you believe it, halfway across the Jordanian / Saudi border into no mans land, and the engine gives up. Pistons seized up as I understand it.
Thankfully, I know nothing about mechanics, and it takes about three days stuck in no mans land with Tony heading back to Amman for parts before the engine is fixed and we actually drive across to reach the Saudi side
These people are really stupid and obnoxious. Something that's reinforced when I go to work in Saudi in 1983.
They find every map and scrawl out every reference to Israel (believe it!), and give us a really hard time, especially the ladies. Real Pricks!!!
I have no idea what would have happened to us if they realised we had actually been to Israel.
Flogging is too good for them
I can't remember much of the Saudi trek, except that I know most of us would have been whipped if the religious police had raided us any of the nights we were camping there.
I recall one morning at breakfast feeling like my new beard was getting itchy, but there wasn't enough spare water. However, we could have as much tea as we wanted, so, I learned to shave with tea.
About 150Kms north of Jeddah, in Yanbu I believe, the trainee driver was, I guess, trying to impress the chicks, and got the truck bogged down on a beach of all places. Tony had to hire two huge cranes to come from Jeddah to lift it out, I guess the trainees contract won't be renewed
I know after Jeddah, we came across a lonely British engineer in a portacabin many, many miles from anywhere. He was a surveyor in charge of some aspects of the new multilane highway being blasted into the mountains along the sea heading south to Taiz. We arrived fairly early and he was extremely welcoming, poor guy hadn't spoken to anyone in English for months, and invited us all to have as much breakfast as we liked. WOW! Marmite.
The road was dreadful, it was literally being blasted as we drove through, but at least the religious police would never find us out here. We occasionally camped in dry shallow wadi's where there were amazing rocks and geology. There may even have been semi precious stone in these river beds, or not.
On, down toward Abha and Jazzan toward the Yemeni border
Towards the border, there was a strange mix of "modern", like fried chicken shops, and poverty in the form of subsistence farmers.
Maybe they supplied the fried chicken shops.
Eventually, we get stamped out of Saudi, and head into Yemen. Now this is getting pretty wild. Luckily, all the guys maiming and killing everyone in this area right now, weren't interested in doing any of that to us back then
We head down the coast and head into Al Hudaydah. This is quite a place, I hear it's just been destroyed, but back then it seemed to be working well enough. So, from here, much like Moses, we needed to get across the Red Sea. This proved to be quite a problem, or at least a problem for the available amount of money. There's no ferry, or even the remotest possibility of one
Our travels take us to the deep south to Mocha, a tiny port which again is too expensive or unavailable. Tony even tries to get into southern Yemen trying to get to Aden. The immigration guy is educated and delightful, but no chance.
Back via Taiz, all war zones now of course, but then, placid, peaceful and relatively prosperous. I seem to remember it was in the Yemeni desert that we hung out for a few days. We had found a little shack in the middle of nowhere that made the most incredible lime (or lemon,? it was whatever the tree outside was) milk shakes I've ever had. I could only allow myself two. Others had more cash.
We end up in Mocha again. This place is wild.
There is a freighter offshore and there dozens of labourers hauling "A Gift From The U.S.A." bags of grain. The truck they used was an ancient British army Bedford from WW II. It, so I was told, needed new wooden pistons each time it was used to take the bags from the dock to the warehouse. Some artisans eh?
We camp out on a local beach. Once again, I'm a sex slave.
Tony finally realises we ain't going to move unless he makes a deal.
He blinks on the price, and the exit process begins.
We eventually ended up here for about a week, finally being placed in customs bond before we ship out.
While stuck here, Jay became so ill, we thought she might die. We had no idea what to do or where to go, this was the arse end of nowhere. This guy (in the pix) however, took her to the local hospital which was totally supplied by Saudi Arabia, where everything was new, and the care was phenomenal. Jay had simply been very dehydrated, and probably had heat stroke.
A drip and a night in bed and she was released next day. We all felt very relieved. I think it was free too.
Probably around early December, we are in Africa.
I divest myself of Mollies demands, and relax, somewhat.
Assab was such a change from the middle east. You could tell that it was more organised and things worked here. We were here for a few days clearing customs, all without any toilet facilities. As several of us had severe crapping problems, this could not remain so for long.
I myself still had a pretty bad case of the runs bordering on dysentery. I'd managed to get this by eating some disgusting fruit (without washing it first) coming into Yemen. It was to be my constant companion for about 4 more weeks
During our time there in Assab, or at least while we waited for the security convoy to take us through the Danakil, a few of us wandered around the navy dockyards.
Back then, this was a major base for the Ethiopian navy
After a few days of the Danikil, we climbed out of the desert into the central higher levels of Ethiopia.
I remember Addis for the the coffee and bakeries, probably from the Italian colonisation times, well within living memory for many people.
I felt very much at home in Addis. It was very civilised, and the people were very friendly.
Mollie & I wander around
the Addis market. It was huge. Every third stall was selling butter. Not edible, but for hair dressing. A kind of African Brylcreem.
The truck had fulfilled it's purpose. It was getting pretty obnoxious, and I was fed up with the cliques, the sniping and the ongoing monotony.
Been there, done that, but was I up for the solo traveler routine?
Luckily, Chris was also interested in, well, thinking about it now, was she interested in me? Possibly, but I was on compassionate leave from sex after too many marathons from Turkey onward to Yemen.
I actually left my condoms in a spare bag that I left in the truck for later pick up once I arrived in Kenya. Something I sorely regretted ever since
So, Chris & I headed north to Bahar Dar and the Blue Nile. I had a map, a Bartholomew's as it happens, so we probably, wouldn't get too far off course. Wrong. On one of our hiking trips, we got to a junction on the map that didn't actually exist and had to return (this was hitch hiking), about 200 Kms. From then on it was only Michelin maps or many, many years too late, Google, eventually
On the bus north from Addis, we met a student studying English. as night drew in, we accepted his invitation to stay at his family place just by the Blue Nile Gorge. Truly, a massive gorge, (What do the Yanks know about "Grand"). That night, in the little mud hut, we had our introduction to Injera and K'Wat. The great Ethiopian signature dish. Eventually I got used to it, but hunger rather than exotic cuisine had a great deal to do with it.
I remember the earthen floors and the outhouse, a tricky set of branches to hang your bum over. Far too dangerous for me at night (I did still have the runs which locally produced Injera and Wat exacerbated), so I headed of to a local wooded copse for a crap. Bagasha and his dad were waiting for me on my return, even though I thought I'd been very surreptitious about the whole project
Continuing on the bus next day, we took our lives into our hands along with the rest of the bus occupants.
The valley was truly massive, a huge expanse stretching ahead of us. Maybe 8 Kms wide, and 1Km deep (?)
There were several bridges that were literally falling apart. We all needed to get out as the bus inched its way down each rickety bridge and made it onto solid ground. Eventually, one wouldn't, and would roll down the valley along with the remains of the broken bridge.
We stayed in pretty run down places that were very cheap. Eventually, the buses ran out and we started hitchhiking on trucks. It was here that we started to get the idea of what the Brits did for Ethiopia by getting rid of the Italians.
Everyone was really happy to take us farther north.
It was on one of these trips North that I started to feel cramps in my abdomen. These started early in the trip and got worse and worse with every kilometer and every bump until, eventually, my abdomen became really bloated and I was in such agony that I realised, like my mate Swain a few month previously, that I had appendicitis, and being about 400 kilometers from any hospital, I was going to die.
I had quite literally come to terms with death. Eventually, about 4:30, we stopped at a little village.
It was a beautiful place with a lovely view of the hills as the sun was going down. I went into a truly disgusting bog/ chamber, sat down on the disgusting "seat" and having accepted The End, prepared to die.
Punch line? Well, I'm still here, typing, sooooo........
Having the craps, I wasn't going to mess up my drawers, so I hadn't "passed" anything bowel wise, but I had come to terms with death.
I just farted, on and on and on, with occasional bits (you don't need to know this). But after 10 minutes, laughing like a drain as the saying goes, I emerged from this hole. It was like I had quite literally, been reborn.
So, even now, death no longer has such a hold on me. I have already done the coming to terms bit, a long, long time ago.
I guess every day since then has been some kind of unexpected bonus.
After a few more days out of Addis, we arrive at Bahar Dar.
We wander around the market, me looking for fresh milk, for some reason, and all I was ever offered was yogurt. I got pretty pissed off with this, but years latter realised that there's nothing fresh dairy wise because most of the cows probably having TB.....
We never felt any kind of tension, or pressure of being tourists, except mainly from local kids who would just run around us calling out "Ferenj, FERENJ!" Apparently because most foreigners in olden times had been French, and this term migrated to be foreigner as part of their language.
Chris & I grab a taxi to the falls. About 30 kms away
Tissisat falls as it is known locally.
I assume the kid who approached us as we arrived was a shepherd boy. He offered to be our guide, and can you believe it, back then you actually needed a guide to find the falls. There was, as I recall, a few run down shops there (they were all run down), and a few paths.
We had to walk over a rinky dink bridge that spanned the gorge, maybe 10 metres across. All the Blue Nile thundered through this minuscule gorge. Talk about instant death........
There was no one else there, in fact, we didn't see another western/ tourist until we met a couple of Brits way south of Addis on the route to Nairobi.
So, we lounged around for an hour or two and felt suitably accomplished
Quick update, looks like most of the flow has been diverted for a hydro project. Another thing my kids will never witness
I only heard of the churches of Gondar about 25 years later in National Geographic.
What a piss off as they were only another 150Kms north of here
Sad to say that we were less than a day away of these incredible edifices. I assume they were similarly un touristed back then, but sad to say, we just headed back to Addis, and were there for Christmas.
I do remember in one of the Addis "department "stores (there weren't many of them, a Father Christmas (aka Santa for North Americans) dressed in said Santa gear, but also every piece of (black) visible skin covered in white gloves and all.
We don't do black Santa's here
The one essential part of this trip came about when I realised I could buy a bunch of local (tiny) bananas and carry them with me.
Somehow I had worked out that bananas are good for the craps, which I still had in a relatively not too debilitating format. Eventually, after about 2 weeks of endless bananas, I regained full bowel control.
I carried a bunch of bananas in my back pack until I reached Joburg, just in case, like a kind of traveling talisman
So, Chris & I departed Addis a day after Christmas, 26th. 1975
Although we always shared double beds, the mood was never on me. Incredible thinking back.
We headed down the Rift Valley and after a few days of hitching lifts (you needed to pay the drivers here), or busing, we met a couple of Brit chicks , probably in Awassa where we got stuck as there were no trucks, and the busses always full by the time we arrived at the station.
They had smuggled some highly potent oil (hidden in their film containers) into the country.
There was a market when we arrived, probably in Dilla, maybe 250Kms south of Addis. It was a full blown camel sale. What an incredible experience. Totally one of a kind. just us two white folks, and the village.
We head down the Omo river valley towards the Kenyan border. We are now into the real outback of Ethiopia. There is nothing here except dust and rocks.
A new road is being built down here, and as there is hardly any traffic, certainly no buses, we take a lift with an Ethiopian engineer who is in charge of the road building stone crushing machines on the new road path.
He obviously takes a liking to Chris.
As we drive down, we come upon a huge crowd of people, many wailing women and a sense of dread. There is a sickly burnt meat smell in the air. sure enough, an overturned backie (pickup truck) on its side, totally burnt out. It is set back onto its now wheel rims and two easily recognisable blackened mannequins loll around and bits of arms crack off. As far as I know, the first time I've seen dead people.
We drive on
There is a large area, maybe 100kms from the border, where there is nothing to be seen except termite hills. Large and orange, pinks and reds that look like an alien landscape, all stalagmites on a huge plain expanding all around us.changing colours gently as the sun sets
It was such an incredible experience, I knew that no photograph could adequately express the wonder of it. so I didn't take any, still don't regret it, but then I still have that memory.
The last night in Ethiopia, Chris & I get a grimy little hut and go to the only decent hotel for miles around as we've been invited to dinner, and as I remember, huge amounts of booze. I assume it's actually in Moyale, there being nothing else even relatively likely to have hotels nearby.
I am imbibed with booze, certainly deliberately by our host so he can get to grips with Chris.
I wake up early morning in the same hotel room with a really nasty head ache and disgusting breath
I seem to remember a shower, but I had been well and truly spiked. Chris?
We said nothing
Welcome to 1976
Next day, I believe it was January 1st, it's across the border in the early morning. There is a funny little roundabout where you officially move from driving on the right, to driving on the left.
There was a threat of bandits between the border and Moyale, a small mountain with it's own climate due to the hills. About 120 Kms. I think we got a lift from some expats or Peace corp folks
In Moyale, it's my first taste of papaya with lime
We stay for the night and meet some colonials with a land rover, heading south.
On the way, just after sunset, we are stopped on the track (that's all it was, by a small group of villagers. No one had any concept that this was any problem. It wasn't. But now a days, I'm sure it would be far more likely to be a bandit trap.
I assume that we arrived in Nairobi on the 3rd. It's convoluted, but as I remember, we got a lift with a Kenyan who was pretty big in a ministry as in Government Ministry, and he probably took us from Nakuru to Nairobi. I only remember because he told me he played squash, and me being a sort of squash player, challenged him to a game. I organised to meet him at his club (the Nairobi club, of course) for a game. He never turned up.... Oh well
The first place we go to is Post Restaunte for our mail. We are somehow in Nairobi without cash. The banks are closed, so I head off to a smart hotel, walk in and ask to change some travellers cheques.
"Are you a guest here sir?"
"Oh yes, room 812" I say
Ah, we only have 7 floors sir.
Oooops.
I apologise, he smiles and gives me the cash. We can survive. Later I learn than no one cashes travellers cheques at the bank. Everyone goes to the Indian Duka Wallahs as they need to stash cash offshore. There's a lot here in Nairobi
Hmmmmm. Don't believe it, but there you go
We (me, Chris and Caroline), stay with Redmond and Shirley who are incredibly welcoming, and we get to experience what colonial expat lifestyle really means.
I love it!
How can I get some of this?
We all hang out at Redders for about 6 weeks.
During this time, I, can you believe it, fix his Kombi, a VW mini bus popular for touring and camping. Perfect for exploring Kenya in.
I worked out that it needed new rings, so I, somehow, replace them.
Talk about rudimentary. I jack up the car and use firewood logs to hold it up while I take out the pistons and replace each set of rings. I have done this on various vehicles I've owned before, but always with someone who knows what they are doing.
It works for gods sake. Redders is so pleased, he tells us to take it anywhere we like.
Much later, Redmond told me he kept and used it for another year, then sold it for more than he bought it for.
Anyways, so we, Chris, Caroline and I, head south to Amboseli and Maasai Mara reserves. Wow, huge amounts of animals
One night, we are on the border of the Mara, down a 100 kilometers of dirt track from Amboseli,similarly dirt tracked, when this huge overland bus with about 40 Germans and a massive trailer for their luggage rolls up next to us. It was bizarre. As the evening progressed, they all got into sliding beds in the lower section of the bus. I guess I'd never seen, or even dreamt of anything like this either.
After a few tourist trips, I settle down to looking for a job. There aren't many electrical/ computer designer jobs here. I get an interview at Burroughs but don't have anything to wear. I borrow everything I need from Redmond, including shoes that are 1 and a half sizes too small.
I walk to the offices, in my, now almost rotten sandals, about a kilometer from the centre. I've brought Redmonds shoes in a plastic bag and only put them on as I go in. Not wanting to take these truly disgusting, falling apart thrice returned from the dead with my sewing skills sandals into my interview, I hide them in the bag, in a hedge outside, first making sure no one was watching. Obviously someone was, because these truly appalling footwear were gone when I returned. Couldn't believe it, but found it really funny as I hobbled back into town with my 1.5 sizes too small shoes.
There was no job offer for Nairobi, but I did get offered the job the Peter Alexander, my mate in about 2 years had just resigned from in Ndola, Zambia. Nah. didn't want that, but I was told that there would probably be a job for me in Johannesburg if I ever made it there.
We head down to Mombasa, I seem to remember on the overnight train, and end up at the hippy dope centre about 8 Kms south of the town: Twiga Beach.
It's wild, right on the beach, lots of dope and somehow, Pink Floyd occasionally. Very cheap to camp here too. I get through all of the Azimov's around and sit under coconut trees getting stoned for quite a while
I slowly start to realise that I'm not going to get the job of a lifetime here, even though I'm white, AND have a degree, and come to terms with the idea that I need to do something other than get stoned
So, as my pre expat days in Kenya wound down, I wrote from Nairobi to Burroughs in South Africa telling them I was on my way, with no idea what that would mean to them. I didn't even know if there was mail from Kenya to South Africa
Eventually, I knew that I had to head south if I was ever going to get an income.
Without a sponsor for my wannabe colonial lifestyle, and realising that we've been living off of Redders and Shirl for too long, Chris, Caroline and I all headed out together to Morogoro in Tanzania where Carolines folks had some friends.
Unbelievably, they had their passports stolen, not once, but twice on the journey after I left them in Arusha.
I got to Morogoro several days before them, (they had to go to the British embassy in dar Es Salaam TWICE for new passports)
It was here that I saw my first Bollywood movie. These people owned the local cinema. This was before the government took everything away and let it all rot. They were Asians (ie from India), so their future was dire too
After a few days, I retired to the local reserve, and camped by a stream, read Lord of the Rings, from cover to cover, and suitably refreshed, returned to the folks in Morogoro, stayed another night, gave many thanks and started off to Joburg.
I was white, relatively clean and hitch hiking in Africa. I got a lift within 20 minutes with some white Tanzanians, about 150 Kms I think. I only recall being in Dodoma around 1:00, just after lunch when I stumbled upon the remains of a Scandinavian diplomats address in a dusty square.
The local police were dismantling the makeshift stage, and of course, me being totally out of context: white with a backpack, I was immediately recognised as a potential spy/ terror suspect. I was invited to come with them to the police station for a few nights in the cell.
These being not the sharpest cops, I politely declined and walked off to the road to Mbeya. Luckily, no one followed me with threats, and I reinforced my notions that Africa is all about you making it up and being more assured that everyone else. No wonder public school boys get on so well here.
As I travel, one of the few past times available at night is letter writing. sometimes these would be 8 or even more double pages of "updates". Much like these blogs I guess. These eventually got to the point where I would write one letter and give a list of names and addresses where it should be passed onto after the current readed had finished.
An old fashioned chain letter.
Hmmmmm.
These typically alternated between Fran and Sarah, with onwards to various other close folks
The trek through the borders is easy here. With a British passport, there's no charge, and no hassle anywhere from Ethiopia onward
There were a few nights in Zambia where I camped in the bush and hid just off the footpath, although once, when I finally decided to get on the new Chinese built train toward Lusaka, I camped in a bush just outside the station as the train left at 4:30AM
I eventually get to Rhodesia via Victoria Falls in Zambia.
Unfortunately, my visa at the border is refused as I don't have enough cash to get in, or more meaningfully, be shipped back to UK at my expense.
I retreat, wounded and hurt, to Chobe Game lodge, in Kasane on the upper Zambezi, and wonder what the hell I'm going to do now.
As luck would have it, Wayne, a Canadian had also had the same problem and was dismissed from the border.
Also fortunately, he had lots of money, but it was all in Canada.
We had previously met at the end of the Tazara railway, where we got got off at Kapiri M'Poshi. He traveled 2nd class, I was in the cattle car with all the locals.
As Wayne most memorably said to me when we both got off the train there "lets ask someone with clothes on where we go from here"
Next day, he went to the local bank and organised a huge amount of money to be shipped over. Eventually, after about 5 days, he gave up waiting, and we headed to Gabarones, way down south to get it. I followed on with him as he had offered to lend me half of it to get across the border. I camped in the local bush, or once on the station platform at Francistown. Wayne stayed in hotels.
We had to wait another week in Gabarones while his money finally caught up with him
Once Wayne had his 2000 Rand (this was before Botswana changed to their own currency, the Pula, we embark on the late night train to Joburg. Wayne gives me 1000 Rand just in case.
The border guard doesn't care about money. We are both white and that's good enough apparently. As soon as the immigration guy leaves, Wayne hovers over me for his cash back. It's a fair cop
We arrive at the central Joburg station Saturday evening and get a hotel in Hillbrow. Talk about culture shock! Things work here, there is food everywhere, there are clean buses, the streets are massive and everything is clean and organised.
I'm amazed, but almost out of money now,
On Monday, I head to Post Restante at the central post office. Yes, this function was a long time ago before internet and message centres. Post Restante was a depository in every central post office that stored mail for travelers. Probably still is.
I had several letters.
There was a pile this time, the usual from the folks and Fran and Sarah, but also a note from Jay (she of the truck trip), and also one from Burroughs.
Here, just outside the post office as I read my mail, my life suddenly and finally changed for the much, much better. A new life.
Route from London to the "ferry" in Yemen
 |
| My home, October 1975 - December 1975. That was way too long |
Difficult to believe as I was taken by the idea that if I did a sort of promo for the trip including video, or similar chronological facsimile, I could get a free one on some other overland, maybe even the follow on one to Johannesburg which was the final trip destination.
I was heading to my mates in Nairobi, Redmond and Shirl who I had met years back through Uni mates. He had a job in accounting there. What did I know about expat status back then?
There were about 18/20 of us set out in the Mercedes truck heading to Nairobi. Most of the others being much braver than I, having no such mates or job once they arrived, wherever it was.
There were 2 trips, both on trucks, one to Johannesburg via Nairobi, and the other to Kathmandu. We traveled together until Istanbul. The possible arrival in Nairobi was about 2 - 3 months, some when in December, maybe. I had chosen this trip because it was way out of the normal Sahara/ central Africa route. As I understood it, this route had not been traveled before
Most of us had backpacks, the less than travelers, or the more adventurous had suitcases. Jay, a beautiful Canadian lady (they're all like that) that I had the hots for, actually brought all of her professional kit for working as an X-Ray technician for South Africa. She was really smart. I was not so well organised.
We had a certain space to store our stuff in the truck. I had chosen to bring my own tent and sleeping bag, so I had my own space at night. Others shared (more on this later)
I had my fairly new Praktica 35mm SLR camera and also a rinky dink 8mm movie camera which I seriously thought could make some kind of decent home movie esq travelling commentary
I also brought a few condoms, just in case
The previous few days were a bit hectic getting everyone's visa's, especially for Saudi Arabia, which we didn't get in London, but eventually got in Jordan.
Lets see, there were about 20+ at the outset
Canadians: Jay, Wes & Carol
Brits: Me, Chris, Caroline, Cheryl,
US: Mollie
NZ: George
Ozzy: Maggie
Driver: Tony, Brit. Assistant, South African
 |
| Chris, Caroline partying at Oktoberfest I'd guess |
Can't remember many specifics, (this was 43 years ago), and the pix I have are pretty much my only clues as to route
 |
| Arbeit Mach Frei Dachau. After Oktoberfest, this was very sobering |
So assume we camped out a couple of nights on the way, probably October 1st 1975
I remember being pretty pissed and tired the night we arrived in Munich, after our Octoberfestivities.
We drove out of Munich fairly late and pitched even later. Luckily, the driver that night was very professional and stayed sober and got us to our camp site
I think the musical tents started that night.
I think I ended up being host to Mollie and some Aussy guy who grunted their way through the night next to me, in my tent,
This wasn't how it was meant to work, but we've got a few months to go
Dachau was only about 30Kms away, and this was our first tourist stop.
 |
| Tourist stuff Glass blowing factory in Venice |
Mollie, who was Jewish, had a hard time here and broke down. I was there to assist.
From there, we headed down to Venice, which as I'd camped out there the previous year, was pretty hum drum, for me anyway.
 |
| A typical "camping site". Right by the road, I think this one was in Austria |
There were probably 5 dual seats on either side of the truck with most accessible personal gear between them.
Us passengers sat staring out on the left or the right. When it got cold, we would roll down the covers and put on lots of layers
The food was a bit of a stitch up. Before we left, we all "agreed" because we didn't know any better, to let the drivers drive, and the rest of us would take it in turns to cook/ wash up. so the drivers had it really easy.
 |
| Wow! look, a Mosque I believe this was way in the south of Yugoslavia, probably Nis. |
I can really only be specific about arriving in Greece where we camped in a remote area that was surrounded by pine trees. I also remember a whole pile of wild dogs roaming around. It was chilly, but the scents of pine resin on the night breeze as we sat by the fire apparently, were unforgettable.
It was just after we passed into Turkey from Greece that my humour reasserted itself.
Up to that point we had all been a bit strangers, but, apart from a few of the "outlier" personalities, we were beginning to get on.
We had stopped for lunch on the road, and I thing Wes and Carol had gone into a restaurant for lunch. As we were kitting everything back into the truck, Carol started whining to Wes (they were married) about a piece of cheese.
It went backwards and forwards for about 2 - 3 minutes, along the
Wes: "I can't find my cheese",
Carol: "well it was there earlier",
Wes: I didn't eat it"
Carol: "Well I cant find it!",
Wes: "But I had it earlier"
into which, Smith, nonchalantly offers "Well Wes, it certainly sounds like a fait accompli to me"
 |
| The Aya Sophia Mosque/ Museum Circa 1975 GO SEE IT! |
Only Chris got it, which was perfect for me as I've always felt that humour is best when it's subtle enough that only the brightest get what you are on about. (Hint - we had just left Greece)
I've always had a chuckle about that one
On to Istanbul.
Probably October 16th?
 |
| Aya Sophia, once a church, then a mosque, then a church Now a mosque |
But, I did go there, and had a fantastic time. The sheer scale of the mosques, churches, the palaces.
 |
| Inside the Blue Mosque (Outside? Hmmm) |
The Orient. The crossroads of ancient civilisations. Magnificent.
I decided not to be swayed by unsubstantiated stories again.....
Well, mostly anyway
 |
| The harbour with itinerant peasants. I thought this was quite arty, but that was a long time ago |
 |
| Jay and Maggie at a cafe at the end of the ferry ride on the Bosphorus The Yogurts were absolutely fantastic |
I toured everywhere and loved it, and the food, especially the yogurts.
Cheap too, at least it was 45 years ago.
 |
| Istanbul from the Bosphorus ferry, October 1975 |
I do remember the Turks were incredibly mysoginistic, and would really harras the ladies. Eventually, we had to accompany them and just tell these hot bloods very civilly, "this is my sister". It really was magic. Absolutely zero problem from then on
Eventually we head out, probably mid - late October, heading to Troy (what was left of it) via Gallipoli for the Kiwi's and Oz folks on board.
We had been wandering around in Istanbul with the other truck, travellers off to Nepal, but this was it, the departing of the ways.
 |
| It used to be a big deal, but when this was taken, there was hardly anything except these columns at Ephasus |
This did of course mean that I had to give up on my desires for any of the other ladies, but, that's showbiz
As I quickly discovered, Mollie had an insatiable, indeed, voracious desire for sex, Suffice it to say, that by the time she departed (in Addis), or more likely, I departed, I had had enough, if not more than enough sex than I needed for a lifetime.
Just kidding ladies, as several young, and not so young ladies will attest, that's total hyperbolic bolix, and false, but it certainly felt like a relief when she left. Unfortunately, looking back, Chris had to bare the brunt of my relief to be celibate for a while, with unforeseen and possibly unfortunate consequences
Sex for me, hod got really boring
This was a big truck, with 20 ish of us heading in a generally south east direction. most of us had certainly never done anything like this before.
Chris, Caroline and Cheryl were all nurses on their first trip, several were from Aus - Maggie, NZ, George and 1 other and had already been on several road trips. Most of us had some money, but the foreigners had more than the Brits
 |
| Drying out in Ephesus. Note our home, such as it was: rather damp |
 |
| Jay modeling one of the few remaining arches of ancient Troy |
The speed was maybe 200 - 300 kilometres per day. Usually up early like 7:30, breakfast then starting maybe by 9:00 or 10. Lunch somewhere around 1:00, then maybe another 4 hours stopping for meat/ veg for the dinner crew at whatever likely village presented itself.
Stews were popular because you could make everything in one big pot.
By and large, after the initial rush of actually travelling in foreign parts has passed, sad to say, the travelling actually became mundane and on long runs through arid desertified areas, monotonous, but that was later
 |
| One of the few remaining arches of ancient Troy (C1975) |
I look at Wiki for Ephesus and Troy, and there are huge buildings and museums all around the area. Nothing like that in 1975. Just a few standing arches and columns
 |
| Wes doing the Achilles thing on Mollie |
I remembered some of my classics and screamed
"Come out of there Paris you dirty bastard, and bring the missus with you or you are going to be sorry!"
No one knew what the hell I was on about.
Oh well, so much for a University education
As you can see, the main draw, was an arch and a few remaining structures. Almost nothing remotely suggesting a 1000 ships, or anything remotely connected to Brad Pitt or large wooden horses
But, I did sense that a long time ago, the Greeks could have actually accomplished much of what Homer told us they did.
Of the fabled plains and ancient city......
Just bushes and goats.
Well, it was sacked and destroyed after all.
So, next to a stunning sight: calcium falls of Pamukkale,
 |
| Spectacular, but was trying to be too clever with yellow filters |
 |
| Hows this one. Yes, it was a rainy day |
 |
| Left to Right: Tony, Jay, Maggie, NZ guy, Brit pain, Carol, no idea, (2), SA driver and Cheryl |
There was one night when we were all totally knackered and probably pissed, after a long drive, and we all collapsed and went to bed leaving lots of our gear just hanging around.
Of course, next morning, several items had been stolen. I forget who's was stolen, maybe Jays, but definately Mollies. We went to the local police, but all they were prepared to do was write up a report.
 |
| Left to Right: SA driver, Kiwi guy, Brit pain, no idea, Tony, your correspondent, Chris, Jay, Maggie, no idea |
Mollie (I think it was her, but it may have been Jay), was insured, but the insurance company refused it because the police didn't make the report official with any kind of stamp. Tough luck!
From here on, we have night guards for the camping
At some stage, heading to Syria, we passed through a small village in southern Turkey with several restaurants and cafes.
 |
| I believe this is just inside Syria, early morning, November, 1975 |
Backgammon is a national sport in Turkey. Everyone (well, all the men anyway) plays it and this village was no exception.
I think we were just having coffes late afternoon when both Tony and I were challenged to a friendly game of "Towli" with, I assume, (but I would wouldn't I) the better players in the village.
Both Tony & I were pretty good as it turned out, and we both won. This apparently, was quite a coup as the locals were amazed, and so was I.
We were close to Syria. We came throught the turkish bordr fairly late, and just camped on the side of the road that night.
 |
| A village in Syria near the border |
We drove in and camped, for a day or two. I just remember being a total sex slave for our entire time there.
OK. Enough already
It was here, next morning that Wes and Carol were in charge of breakfast, and had not organised any food. We all faced fried salad sandwiches. This was probably the worst meal of the trip, and thats saying a lot!
.
Aleppo and its glorious (now long since destroyed) Suk and fort was another wild ride into the past.
 |
| an incredible sense of ancient technology and beauty |
Something that has stayed with me since then, was the dreadful driving.
It appeared that there had just been a dual lane carriageway opened here, and we could see the traffic going up and down in every possible combination. It was pure mayhem
Onward to the truly beautiful, and now undoubtedly destroyed in the Syrian civil wars, the Norias of Hama.
 |
| Again, the arty shot that doesn't always do the subject justice |
Coming upon them just before sunset, they were both an incredible surprise, and a sight of stunning beauty. As a tourist attraction (we were the tourists that day), these were incredible. I think they were about 15 or more metres in diameter, and had been there, or dialectically replaced since the 5th century...
WOW!
We arrived in Damascus the next day. Probably the end of October.
We all went to explore. I headed off with some other guy to the museum, and was blown away by the exhibits. Really ancient stuff, and a whole gallery showing the evolution of "Damasc Steel". Fascinating.
The manager/ curator started talking to me, and I think, some other guy who was from our truck, and invited us to his house for dinner.
He was very well educated, and multi lingual. He was a fantastic host, but of course, his wife stayed in the kitchen, and we may have eaten her dinner as it was all on spec. But I got the general idea of arab/ muslim hospitality, and it's been a noticeable constant in my travels. The muslim sense of welcoming travellers is some universal function. It is quite special.
I assume we stayed a few days in Damascus, as by some unknown agreement, on our last day, the ladies went on a tour in pairs.
About 4:30, we all met back in town, somewhere near the Syrian museum. Jay & Maggie came back having found a rich Greek guy who offered to take them out for dinner. They told them that they were with friends, and were told "they could come too"
So, about 7PM, all 20+ of us turned up, and true to his word, the Greek guy took us all out to a truly fantastic restaurant. I got a bit pissed and had a lambs brains appetiser..... Oh well, I didn't get mad sheep desease so far.
All of us hadn't eaten so well for months, and this was probably one of the best meals I'd had up till then, yes it was that good! I actually found the place and went there for dinner one night when I was working in Damascus in 1983. It was still great food, but Damascus had such fantastic food everywhere back then
To continue:
Of course, payback, maybe, as we are leaving and the Greek guy and his Syrian mate invite the ladies back to their apartment having lain the basics of seduction with loose western women
Well, thanks, but no thanks.
 |
| Jerash. Incredibly well preserved and actually functioning as a theatre even in 1975 |
As they see the truck and reality dawns as we fire up the engine and in a volley of "thanks suckers", we head off into the night.
We drive a long way
We drive a long way
We camp late, and are awoken very early by a Syrian guy telling us we had to move urgently. He told us, and I had no reason to doubt him, that we had camped on a firing range, and we really should go NOW!
We did
Over the border, and to Jerash, an ancient Roman amphitheatre.
Luckily, the driver had done an awful lot of homework, These were places I'd never even heard of and ancient and amazing, certainly for an untravelled 26 year old.
By the time we reached Amman, I needed to take a break. I think we stayed in a hostle and it was a chance to get off the road while we got our Saudi Visa's. I didn't see much of it. It was either Amman or Jerusalem.
 |
| I believe this is Jerusalem from the Temple Mount. November, 1975 |
Most of us took the Allenby Bridge route to Isreal, which as it was still officially Jordanian territory, was a useful subterfuge for never leaving Jordan as long as you didn't get an Israeli stamp in your passport.
 |
| Al-Aqsa Mosque, Jerusalem. Lovely people inside. Chai? |
I'm really glad I went to Isreal.
It really highlighted the differences between the Arabs and the Jews.
A long time memory is of the Al-Aqsa mosque in Jerusalem. I remember sitting with the security guard with some of his friends, or fellow worshipers on the floor in the mosque and he showed me the revolver the Israeli authorities had allowed him to have in his position of mosque guard.
 |
| A slow day for head banging |
Again, sitting on a carpet, always the invitation to "Chai", to discuss and investigate the meaning of peace, religion, politics in one of the most sacred site of religion.
There were very few people inside, it was almost deserted, much like the wailing wall next door.
I stayed a few days in Jerusalem, enjoying the markets and especially the old town walls which were being excavated and apparently supplying a treasure trove of archaeological goodies from its 4000 years of occupation. It really did exude ancient.
After a few days, I headed down to Masada where there was some kind of mass suicide before the attacking armies could over run them.
I was hitch hiking and was on the outskirts of town.
It was early morning and the school kids (Orthodox Jewish) were waiting for their busses.
There were 3 school kids who arrived and after a short time started spitting on me. Maybe my hair was longer or better combed than theirs?
No, I've never worked it out either, but I'm sort of glad of this naked expression of contempt in the youth of Israel.
 |
| Some bit of Jerusalem, C1975 |
After the spitting angels had departed, I got a lift with a settler, or was it a Kabutzim, who took me down in the general direction.
It was a backie, just a small pick up truck. He spoke perfect English and we started chatting. I noticed that the were not 1, but 2 FN automatic rifles on the floor under me. Why on earth do you need two FN's I enquired. Just in case I need to shoot a lot of them he said
Both of these little vignettes, combined with the welcome and gentle attitudes of the guards in Al Asqua and on the Dead Sea (later) certainly had an incredible effect on my attitude to Israel.... As anyone who has discussed the middle east with me soon discovers
Seems, just like the Romans, I arrived too late. The gondola or whatever stopped at 3 (?) and I guess everyone had killed themselves without me
I stayed in the local youth hostel, and next day, was really glad to be allowed back into Jordan.
We head out to the Dead Sea. On the Jordanian side of course.
Again, the gentle wash of life in the village close to the sea.
Luckily, there are showers of fresh water as the sea water is incredibly saline. Apparently a Ph of 6.
 |
| Remains of the old Turkish railway line? Maybe |
It's supposed to be very good for your skin. Hmmm. I didn't think so
 |
| This view was incredible, mountain ranges as far as you could see. Jordan, November 1975 |
We head down the desert highway along the old railway line as in the one blown up by Lawrence of Arabia. It may sound romantic, but I could feel the history and the changes in world history brought about right here. Well, I could imagine that.
 |
| Spectacular route through southern Jordan |
It got worse in Saudi
 |
| A local in the Jordanian desert |
There's no doubt that the Nabatean city of Petra is an incredible edifice.
Many centuries ago, it was at the cross roads of the silk road and the ancient incense route.
We arrived fairly late after inspecting who sections of twisted metal that we imagined Lawrence had blow up 60 years ago.
 |
| The Treasury, Petra, November 1975 |
However, the day we had put aside to do our tourist bit, I was up at dawn, and found the hidden valley which leads you to the treasury. No tickets, no guards, no guides, just a valley floor about 2 metres wide, maybe 100 metres directly vertical on either side winding through massive hills. Apparently, it was hidden from a lot of invaders due to this geography
 |
| Treasury from some way up a rock path |
The Treasury (no real reason to call it anything really) is a few metres in front of you, so you need to move up and down this perpendicular valley if you want a photo. Even my wide angle had trouble capturing it
There was no one else around that early, so I had the valley to myself until the hotel types had had breakfast and got onto their ponies. They started arriving around 9:00.
 |
| Inside the valley. Everything just looks great, but it's only a few metres deep |
 |
| This was our water supply for the day, goat shit included Pass the iodine folks |
I guess it was a bit of homage to T E Lawrence. Lots of this part of the trip was related to his (and David Lean) escapades during the first World War. So next, to Wadi Rum, then to Aqaba before the real bigotry of Saudi began. but we didn't realise that yet
 |
| Wadi Rum. A Bedouin village, a police station and ghosts of T E Lawrence |
I'm glad I'm on this side.
 |
| We find luckily, or Tony has worked overtime, our own oasis first night in Saudi |
Thankfully, I know nothing about mechanics, and it takes about three days stuck in no mans land with Tony heading back to Amman for parts before the engine is fixed and we actually drive across to reach the Saudi side
These people are really stupid and obnoxious. Something that's reinforced when I go to work in Saudi in 1983.
|
| The "trainee" driver pissed around and got the truck bogged down on a beach |
I have no idea what would have happened to us if they realised we had actually been to Israel.
Flogging is too good for them
I can't remember much of the Saudi trek, except that I know most of us would have been whipped if the religious police had raided us any of the nights we were camping there.
I recall one morning at breakfast feeling like my new beard was getting itchy, but there wasn't enough spare water. However, we could have as much tea as we wanted, so, I learned to shave with tea.
 |
| Under construction. The road to Mecca I traveled along this in my own car 8 years later. He did a great job |
 |
| There were a lot of these ancient watch towers in southern Saudi |
 |
| I love this shot. Deepest southern Saudi Arabia. Tony waking up to Peasants (very friendly) |
 |
| Deepest southern Saudi Arabia. Real Felahine |
 |
| I doubt if these folks had ever even seen a foreigner |
Maybe they supplied the fried chicken shops.
I was amazed that there was such poverty here, but the villagers were very friendly and very happy to meet us
 |
| Everyone was very welcoming. Don't remember any women though |
The border is easy on the Saudi side, just go to a local police station, but across the border, there is no road, and you have no idea where to go to find anyone, police, army, immigration, anything.
The post was actually 10 kilometres into Yemen, and from there, we head out of the desert into the hills.
Anxious to obtain some local micro biome, I chew a handful of local raisins, suitably covered in all manner of obnoxious poisons and stomach churning local muck. I last about an hour and then have dysentery for about 6 weeks.
Anxious to obtain some local micro biome, I chew a handful of local raisins, suitably covered in all manner of obnoxious poisons and stomach churning local muck. I last about an hour and then have dysentery for about 6 weeks.
 |
| This was soooo delightful. Fresh water and soap |
Eventually, days later, there is a shallow stream. The truck is parked in it and everyone is stripping off and cleaning off weeks of desert.
It's great.
I decide to climb a local hill and ended up having to sew my poor beaten to death sandals with my sewing kit. more on these poor old sandals in Nairobi, later.
Glad I brought it. It wouldn't be the last time I needed to sew my sandals back together either.
 |
| Clean at last |
 |
| Where's Mollie? She's is in here somewhere. Sa'ana 1975 |
So, we need to look elsewhere for our boat to Africa
From here, we head to Sa'ana. Now this was different. Eight storied buildings made of mud... Really.
 |
| Hand making dhows |
Our travels take us to the deep south to Mocha, a tiny port which again is too expensive or unavailable. Tony even tries to get into southern Yemen trying to get to Aden. The immigration guy is educated and delightful, but no chance.
 |
| This truck was from the war and had hand carved pistons each time its used |
We end up in Mocha again. This place is wild.
 |
| New Yemini Friends, and a sun tanned Brit |
 |
| This guy was fantastic, he really helped us without hesitation |
 |
| Finally, Tony agrees to the amount, and we're being loaded onto our state of the art Yemeni cruise liner |
He blinks on the price, and the exit process begins.
 |
| Our "ferry" from hell |
A drip and a night in bed and she was released next day. We all felt very relieved. I think it was free too.
Part of the deal is that we will be fed, but the food was fishermans muck, and the sea was pretty rough. I remember feeling so sick that there's no way I'd eat it anyway. It was also so rough, I remember some poor bugger (Mollie I think), sticking her arse out of the truck and crapping down the tailboard and throwing up at the same time.
It was rough.
Assab is about 40Kms across the Red Sea, a daylight trip, thankfully, and we arrive in the evening, thank god!
AND! WOW! look how green it is.
I think I'm going to like Africa
 |
| Ariving in Assab, Ethiopia Hey! It's really green here. I'm going to like this place |
I divest myself of Mollies demands, and relax, somewhat.
Assab was such a change from the middle east. You could tell that it was more organised and things worked here. We were here for a few days clearing customs, all without any toilet facilities. As several of us had severe crapping problems, this could not remain so for long.
I myself still had a pretty bad case of the runs bordering on dysentery. I'd managed to get this by eating some disgusting fruit (without washing it first) coming into Yemen. It was to be my constant companion for about 4 more weeks
Hmmmm
 |
| Somewhere on the road to Addis. In protected convoy We saw lots of burnt out petrol tankers on the trip |
Back then, this was a major base for the Ethiopian navy
I was incredibly impressed with the intelligence of the people I met.
The captain of one of the support ships invited me and maybe Chris (?) onto his bridge and we had dinner with him. First time I'd ever had steak tartare. Again, no TB noticed since then.
Along with quite a few soft targets, like maybe 8 or 10 fuel trucks destined for Addis, there were several lumbering food trucks and armoured vehicles with quite a few army guys with lots of weaponry.
We passed many burn out trucks, especially petrol tankers along the road.
This convoy was across, probably 200 kilometers as it only lasted a day. not sure who was our potential adversaries.
 |
| The Danakil neat Djibouti. About 125M below sea level |
Along with quite a few soft targets, like maybe 8 or 10 fuel trucks destined for Addis, there were several lumbering food trucks and armoured vehicles with quite a few army guys with lots of weaponry.
We passed many burn out trucks, especially petrol tankers along the road.
This convoy was across, probably 200 kilometers as it only lasted a day. not sure who was our potential adversaries.
 |
| We could sit on top of the truck too. It was incredibly hot |
 |
| After the convoy, we do some dead camel spotting |
I remember Addis for the the coffee and bakeries, probably from the Italian colonisation times, well within living memory for many people.
I felt very much at home in Addis. It was very civilised, and the people were very friendly.
Mollie & I wander around
the Addis market. It was huge. Every third stall was selling butter. Not edible, but for hair dressing. A kind of African Brylcreem.
The truck had fulfilled it's purpose. It was getting pretty obnoxious, and I was fed up with the cliques, the sniping and the ongoing monotony.
Been there, done that, but was I up for the solo traveler routine?
Luckily, Chris was also interested in, well, thinking about it now, was she interested in me? Possibly, but I was on compassionate leave from sex after too many marathons from Turkey onward to Yemen.
 |
| Addis, central square. A really great place just to hang out in |
I actually left my condoms in a spare bag that I left in the truck for later pick up once I arrived in Kenya. Something I sorely regretted ever since
So, Chris & I headed north to Bahar Dar and the Blue Nile. I had a map, a Bartholomew's as it happens, so we probably, wouldn't get too far off course. Wrong. On one of our hiking trips, we got to a junction on the map that didn't actually exist and had to return (this was hitch hiking), about 200 Kms. From then on it was only Michelin maps or many, many years too late, Google, eventually
On the bus north from Addis, we met a student studying English. as night drew in, we accepted his invitation to stay at his family place just by the Blue Nile Gorge. Truly, a massive gorge, (What do the Yanks know about "Grand"). That night, in the little mud hut, we had our introduction to Injera and K'Wat. The great Ethiopian signature dish. Eventually I got used to it, but hunger rather than exotic cuisine had a great deal to do with it.
 |
| Bagasha and his family |
Continuing on the bus next day, we took our lives into our hands along with the rest of the bus occupants.
The valley was truly massive, a huge expanse stretching ahead of us. Maybe 8 Kms wide, and 1Km deep (?)
There were several bridges that were literally falling apart. We all needed to get out as the bus inched its way down each rickety bridge and made it onto solid ground. Eventually, one wouldn't, and would roll down the valley along with the remains of the broken bridge.
 |
| Their house is behind these shoppers |
We stayed in pretty run down places that were very cheap. Eventually, the buses ran out and we started hitchhiking on trucks. It was here that we started to get the idea of what the Brits did for Ethiopia by getting rid of the Italians.
Everyone was really happy to take us farther north.
It was on one of these trips North that I started to feel cramps in my abdomen. These started early in the trip and got worse and worse with every kilometer and every bump until, eventually, my abdomen became really bloated and I was in such agony that I realised, like my mate Swain a few month previously, that I had appendicitis, and being about 400 kilometers from any hospital, I was going to die.
 |
| The local market, early morning |
It was a beautiful place with a lovely view of the hills as the sun was going down. I went into a truly disgusting bog/ chamber, sat down on the disgusting "seat" and having accepted The End, prepared to die.
Punch line? Well, I'm still here, typing, sooooo........
Having the craps, I wasn't going to mess up my drawers, so I hadn't "passed" anything bowel wise, but I had come to terms with death.
I just farted, on and on and on, with occasional bits (you don't need to know this). But after 10 minutes, laughing like a drain as the saying goes, I emerged from this hole. It was like I had quite literally, been reborn.
 |
| The Blue Nile as it begins from Lake Tana great place to catch Bilharzia just here |
So, even now, death no longer has such a hold on me. I have already done the coming to terms bit, a long, long time ago.
I guess every day since then has been some kind of unexpected bonus.
After a few more days out of Addis, we arrive at Bahar Dar.
We wander around the market, me looking for fresh milk, for some reason, and all I was ever offered was yogurt. I got pretty pissed off with this, but years latter realised that there's nothing fresh dairy wise because most of the cows probably having TB.....
 |
| The statue outside a church in Bahar Dar. In 1975, it was very small, pretty much a village |
We never felt any kind of tension, or pressure of being tourists, except mainly from local kids who would just run around us calling out "Ferenj, FERENJ!" Apparently because most foreigners in olden times had been French, and this term migrated to be foreigner as part of their language.
Chris & I grab a taxi to the falls. About 30 kms away
 |
| The Blue Nile Falls We had the place entirely to ourselves |
 |
| Our guide - it was a short taxi ride from town |
 |
| Imagine that we have all of this to ourselves |
Tissisat falls as it is known locally.
 |
| Spot the "Blue" in Blue Nile hint: Its just the skys reflection |
I assume the kid who approached us as we arrived was a shepherd boy. He offered to be our guide, and can you believe it, back then you actually needed a guide to find the falls. There was, as I recall, a few run down shops there (they were all run down), and a few paths.
We had to walk over a rinky dink bridge that spanned the gorge, maybe 10 metres across. All the Blue Nile thundered through this minuscule gorge. Talk about instant death........
 |
The market at Bahar Dar where I could't get a cup of milk
I seem to remember this guy had severe cataracts
|
There was no one else there, in fact, we didn't see another western/ tourist until we met a couple of Brits way south of Addis on the route to Nairobi.
So, we lounged around for an hour or two and felt suitably accomplished
Quick update, looks like most of the flow has been diverted for a hydro project. Another thing my kids will never witness
I only heard of the churches of Gondar about 25 years later in National Geographic.
What a piss off as they were only another 150Kms north of here
Sad to say that we were less than a day away of these incredible edifices. I assume they were similarly un touristed back then, but sad to say, we just headed back to Addis, and were there for Christmas.
I do remember in one of the Addis "department "stores (there weren't many of them, a Father Christmas (aka Santa for North Americans) dressed in said Santa gear, but also every piece of (black) visible skin covered in white gloves and all.
We don't do black Santa's here
 |
| Awassa bus station. Green and lots of banana trees |
Somehow I had worked out that bananas are good for the craps, which I still had in a relatively not too debilitating format. Eventually, after about 2 weeks of endless bananas, I regained full bowel control.
I carried a bunch of bananas in my back pack until I reached Joburg, just in case, like a kind of traveling talisman
 |
| A camel market in Dilla (?) December 1975 |
So, Chris & I departed Addis a day after Christmas, 26th. 1975
Although we always shared double beds, the mood was never on me. Incredible thinking back.
 |
| Kid & Donkeys in the Ogaden |
They had smuggled some highly potent oil (hidden in their film containers) into the country.
I must admit to being totally blown away by it.
 |
| Once again, an incredible unexpected experience |
We had the Ethiopian stars and the green jungle all around us. Who needs The Doors?
Probably the most ecstatic non reality event I've ever had, well, at least that I can recall.....
It's about 800Kms to the border. Buses and trucks go about 200 Km a day.
It's about 800Kms to the border. Buses and trucks go about 200 Km a day.
 |
| I was captivated by the place, and my place in it |
There was a market when we arrived, probably in Dilla, maybe 250Kms south of Addis. It was a full blown camel sale. What an incredible experience. Totally one of a kind. just us two white folks, and the village.
 |
| My place or yours |
 |
| Same area, deepest Omo valley All the necklace was aluminum. Stolen from the electrical lines |
We head down the Omo river valley towards the Kenyan border. We are now into the real outback of Ethiopia. There is nothing here except dust and rocks.
 |
| Deep southern Ethiopia. The rifle was from the 1890's |
He obviously takes a liking to Chris.
As we drive down, we come upon a huge crowd of people, many wailing women and a sense of dread. There is a sickly burnt meat smell in the air. sure enough, an overturned backie (pickup truck) on its side, totally burnt out. It is set back onto its now wheel rims and two easily recognisable blackened mannequins loll around and bits of arms crack off. As far as I know, the first time I've seen dead people.
We drive on
There is a large area, maybe 100kms from the border, where there is nothing to be seen except termite hills. Large and orange, pinks and reds that look like an alien landscape, all stalagmites on a huge plain expanding all around us.changing colours gently as the sun sets
It was such an incredible experience, I knew that no photograph could adequately express the wonder of it. so I didn't take any, still don't regret it, but then I still have that memory.
The last night in Ethiopia, Chris & I get a grimy little hut and go to the only decent hotel for miles around as we've been invited to dinner, and as I remember, huge amounts of booze. I assume it's actually in Moyale, there being nothing else even relatively likely to have hotels nearby.
I am imbibed with booze, certainly deliberately by our host so he can get to grips with Chris.
I wake up early morning in the same hotel room with a really nasty head ache and disgusting breath
I seem to remember a shower, but I had been well and truly spiked. Chris?
We said nothing
Welcome to 1976
Next day, I believe it was January 1st, it's across the border in the early morning. There is a funny little roundabout where you officially move from driving on the right, to driving on the left.
There was a threat of bandits between the border and Moyale, a small mountain with it's own climate due to the hills. About 120 Kms. I think we got a lift from some expats or Peace corp folks
In Moyale, it's my first taste of papaya with lime
We stay for the night and meet some colonials with a land rover, heading south.
 |
| I remember taking this shot. Note amount of snow and ice on Kilimanjaro. January 1976 It was scary as it was a 50mm lense, so this is "real size" |
 |
| Amboseli Park, with Kili & wildlife in foreground |
There was a baby, in its last death throes. They asked us if we had any medicine that could help it. The driver suspected a snake bite, and explained that we had nothing that could help. The baby died as we watched. It's tough out here
We drove on into the night. Around 9:00, we stopped at a mud and branch hut, still a long way from anywhere civilised. Inside the hut, we were invited by, I assume the village chief to tea. It was ginger tea, another first. It had lots of sugar in it, and was amazing.
The first place we go to is Post Restaunte for our mail. We are somehow in Nairobi without cash. The banks are closed, so I head off to a smart hotel, walk in and ask to change some travellers cheques.
"Are you a guest here sir?"
"Oh yes, room 812" I say
 |
| Just look at all these Rhino's - just such an incredible sight |
Oooops.
I apologise, he smiles and gives me the cash. We can survive. Later I learn than no one cashes travellers cheques at the bank. Everyone goes to the Indian Duka Wallahs as they need to stash cash offshore. There's a lot here in Nairobi
Hmmmmm. Don't believe it, but there you go
We (me, Chris and Caroline), stay with Redmond and Shirley who are incredibly welcoming, and we get to experience what colonial expat lifestyle really means.
I love it!
How can I get some of this?
We all hang out at Redders for about 6 weeks.
During this time, I, can you believe it, fix his Kombi, a VW mini bus popular for touring and camping. Perfect for exploring Kenya in.
 |
| Chris and Caroline adjusting the exhaust on the Kombi |
Talk about rudimentary. I jack up the car and use firewood logs to hold it up while I take out the pistons and replace each set of rings. I have done this on various vehicles I've owned before, but always with someone who knows what they are doing.
It works for gods sake. Redders is so pleased, he tells us to take it anywhere we like.
Much later, Redmond told me he kept and used it for another year, then sold it for more than he bought it for.
 |
| Naivasha, Flamingoes from a bird hide |
Anyways, so we, Chris, Caroline and I, head south to Amboseli and Maasai Mara reserves. Wow, huge amounts of animals
One night, we are on the border of the Mara, down a 100 kilometers of dirt track from Amboseli,similarly dirt tracked, when this huge overland bus with about 40 Germans and a massive trailer for their luggage rolls up next to us. It was bizarre. As the evening progressed, they all got into sliding beds in the lower section of the bus. I guess I'd never seen, or even dreamt of anything like this either.
After a few tourist trips, I settle down to looking for a job. There aren't many electrical/ computer designer jobs here. I get an interview at Burroughs but don't have anything to wear. I borrow everything I need from Redmond, including shoes that are 1 and a half sizes too small.
I walk to the offices, in my, now almost rotten sandals, about a kilometer from the centre. I've brought Redmonds shoes in a plastic bag and only put them on as I go in. Not wanting to take these truly disgusting, falling apart thrice returned from the dead with my sewing skills sandals into my interview, I hide them in the bag, in a hedge outside, first making sure no one was watching. Obviously someone was, because these truly appalling footwear were gone when I returned. Couldn't believe it, but found it really funny as I hobbled back into town with my 1.5 sizes too small shoes.
There was no job offer for Nairobi, but I did get offered the job the Peter Alexander, my mate in about 2 years had just resigned from in Ndola, Zambia. Nah. didn't want that, but I was told that there would probably be a job for me in Johannesburg if I ever made it there.
We head down to Mombasa, I seem to remember on the overnight train, and end up at the hippy dope centre about 8 Kms south of the town: Twiga Beach.
It's wild, right on the beach, lots of dope and somehow, Pink Floyd occasionally. Very cheap to camp here too. I get through all of the Azimov's around and sit under coconut trees getting stoned for quite a while
I slowly start to realise that I'm not going to get the job of a lifetime here, even though I'm white, AND have a degree, and come to terms with the idea that I need to do something other than get stoned
So, as my pre expat days in Kenya wound down, I wrote from Nairobi to Burroughs in South Africa telling them I was on my way, with no idea what that would mean to them. I didn't even know if there was mail from Kenya to South Africa
Eventually, I knew that I had to head south if I was ever going to get an income.
Without a sponsor for my wannabe colonial lifestyle, and realising that we've been living off of Redders and Shirl for too long, Chris, Caroline and I all headed out together to Morogoro in Tanzania where Carolines folks had some friends.
Unbelievably, they had their passports stolen, not once, but twice on the journey after I left them in Arusha.
 |
| I seem to remember camping here, somewhere in Tazania |
It was here that I saw my first Bollywood movie. These people owned the local cinema. This was before the government took everything away and let it all rot. They were Asians (ie from India), so their future was dire too
After a few days, I retired to the local reserve, and camped by a stream, read Lord of the Rings, from cover to cover, and suitably refreshed, returned to the folks in Morogoro, stayed another night, gave many thanks and started off to Joburg.
I was white, relatively clean and hitch hiking in Africa. I got a lift within 20 minutes with some white Tanzanians, about 150 Kms I think. I only recall being in Dodoma around 1:00, just after lunch when I stumbled upon the remains of a Scandinavian diplomats address in a dusty square.
The local police were dismantling the makeshift stage, and of course, me being totally out of context: white with a backpack, I was immediately recognised as a potential spy/ terror suspect. I was invited to come with them to the police station for a few nights in the cell.
 |
| I believe this is the camp site in Zambia |
As I travel, one of the few past times available at night is letter writing. sometimes these would be 8 or even more double pages of "updates". Much like these blogs I guess. These eventually got to the point where I would write one letter and give a list of names and addresses where it should be passed onto after the current readed had finished.
An old fashioned chain letter.
Hmmmmm.
These typically alternated between Fran and Sarah, with onwards to various other close folks
 |
Vic Falls, Zambia side
|
There were a few nights in Zambia where I camped in the bush and hid just off the footpath, although once, when I finally decided to get on the new Chinese built train toward Lusaka, I camped in a bush just outside the station as the train left at 4:30AM
I eventually get to Rhodesia via Victoria Falls in Zambia.
Unfortunately, my visa at the border is refused as I don't have enough cash to get in, or more meaningfully, be shipped back to UK at my expense.
I retreat, wounded and hurt, to Chobe Game lodge, in Kasane on the upper Zambezi, and wonder what the hell I'm going to do now.
As luck would have it, Wayne, a Canadian had also had the same problem and was dismissed from the border.
 |
| Camping at Chobe Lodge. on the Zambezi, Botswana On a Hippo trail I was told |
We had previously met at the end of the Tazara railway, where we got got off at Kapiri M'Poshi. He traveled 2nd class, I was in the cattle car with all the locals.
As Wayne most memorably said to me when we both got off the train there "lets ask someone with clothes on where we go from here"
Next day, he went to the local bank and organised a huge amount of money to be shipped over. Eventually, after about 5 days, he gave up waiting, and we headed to Gabarones, way down south to get it. I followed on with him as he had offered to lend me half of it to get across the border. I camped in the local bush, or once on the station platform at Francistown. Wayne stayed in hotels.
We had to wait another week in Gabarones while his money finally caught up with him
Once Wayne had his 2000 Rand (this was before Botswana changed to their own currency, the Pula, we embark on the late night train to Joburg. Wayne gives me 1000 Rand just in case.
The border guard doesn't care about money. We are both white and that's good enough apparently. As soon as the immigration guy leaves, Wayne hovers over me for his cash back. It's a fair cop
We arrive at the central Joburg station Saturday evening and get a hotel in Hillbrow. Talk about culture shock! Things work here, there is food everywhere, there are clean buses, the streets are massive and everything is clean and organised.
I'm amazed, but almost out of money now,
On Monday, I head to Post Restante at the central post office. Yes, this function was a long time ago before internet and message centres. Post Restante was a depository in every central post office that stored mail for travelers. Probably still is.
I had several letters.
There was a pile this time, the usual from the folks and Fran and Sarah, but also a note from Jay (she of the truck trip), and also one from Burroughs.
Here, just outside the post office as I read my mail, my life suddenly and finally changed for the much, much better. A new life.
 |
| 58 6th Street, Orange Grove, Johannesburg. July 4th celebrations, 1976 L - R: Top row: Carol, Junior, your correspondent Middle row: Tamara, "George", Chips Bottom row: Mike, Dave, Annie |
No comments:
Post a Comment