As part of Trade Aid’s work in Tanzania, we aim to promote a sustainable tourism industry in Mikindani area. The following is the impressions of a trip to investigate the tourism and tourism opportunities in Palma, Northern Mozambique.

Palma is a small, fishing town set inside a large bay along the northern coast of Mozambique. It is home to some 10,000 people, most of whom are supported by industries linked to the sea. Like Mikindani, the place is quiet and peaceful and its people and culture are dominated by the influence of the Indian Ocean that surrounds it. In this way, what we expected was something more akin to Mikindani but the reality was quite different.

We arrived in Palma via two pick-up trucks and a boat across the Ruvuma to be greeted by the dusty, sandy sight all so familiar to us after our five months near Mtwara. However, what struck us was the complete absence of the historic buildings and NGO vehicles that dominate the landscape of Mikindani and Mtwara. The vehicle on which we arrived was virtually the only thing to pass through Palma during our stay while the old colonial buildings that dominate the visage of Mikindani were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps this was why Palma almost had a more earthy sense of untampered-with Swahili Coast. The charm of Mikindani lies in the huge mixture of different colonial, native and trade influences that have shaped its past and continues to shape its future. With Palma, it’s great appeal lies in the idea that it never was a settlement of great importance and so you feel, when walking around that this is the natural development of this part of the world.

There was no electricity or running water in the guest house, no Boma to retire to for a cold beer and certainly no hint of mobile phone signal and internet access but Palma itself was all the better for this. These things, along with the presence of brand names such as coca-cola and Pepsi are right for the formerly upwardly mobile Mikindani, a place now beginning to see a revival thanks to enterprises such as the Boma, the brand new ECO2 dive school and the newly revamped Ten Degrees South lodge. However, in a place such as Palma, where people are living on less than a dollar a day and where there has never been a glorious past to compare to that of Mikindani, these things would simply be out of place. We saw no other tourists during our time in Palma, which only served to enhance the feeling of being part of a totally different society. When following a regular tourist route, however sensitive a tour company or hotel may be, you never get to feel as cut off as this.

As part of our time there we went to see a local group of women rehearsing traditional Mozambique song (see picture, left). We were merely walking by when we were invited to sit in on the group during practice. Listening to the women and drums as the sun set and the tide came in really will be a lasting memory of my time spent in East Africa. Later that day we caught a dhow (traditional African/Arabic sail boat) from Palma all the way back to Mikindani. This again will stay with me for the rest of my life as one of the most authentic experiences of the lives people lead in this part of the world. These sorts of experiences, however overused the cliché may be, really are priceless. Money cannot buy memories and certainly looking at the people of Palma or Mikindani, plays no part in happiness or generosity. This sort of journey, away from the beaten track and reach of the guidebooks is highly recommended and, although not to everyone’s taste, will provide lasting memories to anyone willing to embark on them.

A few months ago, we invited Globetrotter e-newsletter readers to send us their views on visiting Burma. One of the responses we included in February 2004 was from a retired British diplomat, Derek Tonkins. Since this time, Burma Campaign have been in touch and provided an alternative view on visiting Burma.

While there is much that is misleading and inaccurate in Derek Tonkin's article 'Burma Revisited', no-one can argue with the statement that “we should primarily be guided by the wishes and advice of the Burmese people”. However, the wishes of the Burmese people for or against tourism cannot be gauged from a dubious survey of anecdotal reports. In fact, with around 75% of Burma's people making their living from agriculture, most people in Burma have never met a tourist.

The fact is that the call for a tourism boycott comes from Burma's elected leaders. The National League for Democracy (NLD), who won a landslide victory in Burma's 1990 election, remains the only party mandated to represent the Burmese people and it is a party that continues to draw the support and respect of people inside and outside the country. Burma's Government in exile, the National Coalition Government of the Union of Burma (NCGUB), supports the boycott and it is a position that has the backing of exile Burmese democracy groups around the world.

Derek Tonkin's criticism of Aung San Suu Kyi for not having “had time to discuss it [tourism policy] properly” in May 2002, when she had only just been released from house arrest, may leave him wondering what NLD policy really is. However, a look at their official statements will show that in 2003 the NLD confirmed that “the present situation has not reached the extent that tourists should be encouraged to visit Myanmar (Burma).”

Burma's military regime has identified tourism as a vital source of income and it is working hard to develop the industry. According to the Ministry of Tourism, its top two objectives in developing tourism are to generate foreign exchange earnings and attract foreign investment. Compared to its neighbours, Burma's tourism industry may be small but it is still earning a cash strapped regime millions of dollars every year. It seems odd that while Derek Tonkin is arguing for more tourists to visit Burma, he also admits that an increase in tourist numbers would help prop up the regime. Such a rise in tourist numbers would also result in an increase in investment to support that tourism. But investment in Burma does not benefit the vast majority of ordinary Burmese people. The regime spends nearly half the government budget on the military but less than 44p per person per year on health and education combined.

The article also fails to mention that in Burma many human rights abuses are directly connected to the regime's drive to develop the country for tourists. Throughout Burma men, women and children have been forced to labour on roads, railways and tourism projects; more than one million people have been forced out of their homes in order to 'beautify' cities, suppress dissent, and make way for tourism developments, such as hotels, airports and golf courses. And these abuses are not confined to history. In February 2004, for example, Burmese soldiers rounded up ethnic Salons, or 'sea gypsies' who normally live on boats in the Mergui Archipelago, forced them to live on land and to take part in a 'Salon Festival' aimed at foreign tourists.

A further claim that “travel and tourism advance the cause of democracy” is totally unsubstantiated. Tourists in Burma rarely witness the internal repression so prevalent in the country, indeed much of Burma remains strictly off-limits to tourists. One tour operator to Burma recently remarked “I regularly travel throughout Myanmar and have never seen any of the abuses that appear in the Western press”.

The typical tourist on holiday in Burma is there to visit a beautiful country, look at the historic monuments and temples and enjoy an exotic holiday destination. But even for those tourists wishing to see Burma's problems for themselves, there is very little opportunity to discover the realities of life in Burma. Burmese people are not free to discuss politics with foreigners and can face punishment or imprisonment if the strict regulations for dealing with foreigners are not adhered to. For example, in September 2004 two Japanese tourists were arrested for not obtaining a visa within the country to visit a ruby-mine town in Shan State. Their two Burmese companions were charged with laws relating to hotel and tourism acts and their two Burmese hosts were charged with failure to report the presence of strangers to the authorities.

The people of Burma need our support and solidarity. We can provide that support very simply by listening to Burma's democrats and choosing not to holiday in Burma.

The Burma Campaign UK is part of a global movement for democracy in Burma and is the only national organisation in the UK dedicated to campaigning for human rights and democracy in Burma. For more information on Burma Campaign’s activities, see: www.burmacampaign.org.uk

At university I read War Studies and Theology. Whilst this makes me a complete weirdo it also means I can write very interesting newsletter articles. I have done one on Religion in Tanzania so now for the bit that keeps St Peter busy, War.

Little is known of East African warfare before the arrival of Europeans but we know the Arabs would have been developed whilst any combat involving the natives would have been small scale using edged weapons like swords (pangas), spears, bows and possibly shields. A look at the contemporary Massai or watching Zulu (great film) will give you some idea of what this would involve. Some Kenyan pangas from the Mau Mau uprising are on display in the Imperial War Museum. The Swahili’s first contact with gunpowder was from the Omani Arabs and then the Portuguese. However, most of the European-Swahili conflict occurred from 1884 onwards with the arrival of German occupation. The huge technological and military advantage enjoyed by the German’s meant that they were going to win most rucks. The British-Dervish battle of Omdurman (1896) with rifles, machine guns and artillery left 30,000 of the Sudanese spear chuckers dead or wounded for the cost of fifty British dead. However, the Europeans did not always have an easy day of battle.

The Hehe tribe had become one of the largest in Tanzania by the time of German occupation and opposed the colonists. In 1891 the heroic Chief Mkwawa led his tribe in battle at Lugalo and gave the Hun a good thrashing. A bit of a one off though as he was up against the finest offensive troops in the world and was soon on the run. He committed suicide and his head was cut off and sent to Germany where it remained until British diplomatic pressure saw it returned to Tanganyika in 1954.

By 1905 the Swahilis had been forced into labour and as a result of the appalling conditions, rebelled. The rebellion was known as the Maji Maji rebellion (maji = water) as the natives believed the Germans’ bullets would turn to water after firing. If their knowledge of ballistics was somewhat more developed then they would probably not have suffered such terrible casualties. The Germans reacted harshly but effectively using scorched earth tactics which resulted in wide spread famine and malnutrition. Mass executions of tribal leaders especially to the fearsome Ngoni tribe mopped up any remaining resistance. About 100,000 natives perished. Fortunately, the German colonists changed their stance and relative peace prevailed. Until 1914…

German East Africa (GEA) was surrounded by the British to the east in Zanzibar, the north in Kenya, the south east in Nyasaland, by the Belgians in the Congo and the Portuguese were honouring England’s oldest alliance and, therefore, the Germans were hemmed in from the south by Mozambique. This unenviable position was defended by Paul Von Lettow Vorbeck leading at any point about 3,300 Germans and 15,000 locally recruited levies. It was an impossible position really – his armaments were mostly obsolete and re-supply from the sea was going to be problematic.

The German Kriegsmarine’s ship Konigsberg managed to out fox the Royal Navy (RN) and was able to land supplies and wreck the Pegasus as she cleaned her boilers off Zanzibar. She fled up the Rufiji River where her shallow draft meant she could escape from the RN’s guns. If you have seen a particularly shocking Roger Moore film ‘Shout at the Devil’ (nothing compared to Moonraker, “I think he’s attempting re-entry”), then it shows the idea a little. However, the response was not to get a poor quality actor to black up with boot polish and take an alarm clock attached to TNT to blow the ship up. The British got two shallow draft monitors with long range howitzers to shoot it. Before sinking, the Germans landed the guns and ammunition and the Captain later defended Lindi.

Lettow Vorbeck employed hit and run tactics often deep into the surrounding colonies and was still being supplied by the Kriegsmarine. The RN blockaded the coast and supported the movements of the army along the coast. By 1916 the combined allied force outnumbered the Germans considerably and was led by the South African General Smuts. The Germans were rolled up and slowly encircled but the fighting continued in earnest. On 13th September a naval bombardment preceded a land attack on Mikindani. The impressive Customs House was shelled and wrecked and Mikindani claimed its only death of the war, sadly a forgotten villager. It appears the Boma was not attacked and resistance was not offered.

After a long game of cat and mouse and many casualties to malaria and dysentery the brilliant military campaign of the charming and brave General Von Lettow Vorbeck came to an end. He heard of the armistice two days after its signing and gave up his sword honourably on 25th November in North Rhodesia as a truly great soldier. GEA passed into British administration under a League of Nations mandate and became Tanganyika. The coming of the 1939-45 war did not result in any domestic combat but Tanganyikans did volunteer for service in the King’s African Rifles and the population as a whole suffered from shortages and rationing as Britain pulled her Empire into the war. Roald Dahl’s ‘Going solo’ provides an interesting account of life in Tanganyika at the outbreak of war (as well as great snake and decapitation stories).

The war passed as did British rule and now Tanzania is defended by the Tanzanian People’s Defence Force (TPDF) as well as a militia and a paramilitary police. I have personally seen the militia drilling and was not overly impressed. However, the TPDF proved themselves to be the best East African army in the war to oust Idi Amin from Uganda in 1979. Needless to say if America wanted Tanzania I would put money on the yanks, the TPDF’s budget would not buy a single US fighter aircraft. There was an issue a few years ago of Tanzania buying a high tech radar system from a British firm, I am unsure of the outcome.

A walk around Mikindani shows little evidence of current military activity but the historical signs are more common. The Mtwara airstrip was an RAF base, the customs house was destroyed by naval artillery and subsequent neglect, the splendid hotel is a fortified building. The Boma is no great castle but would have been a hard nut to crack. The crenulations (saw teeth type things you get at the top of castles) on the bastion at the back are wide enough to accommodate the large water cooled barrel of the Maxim machine gun whilst those on the tower could only fit a rifle. Both employed at the time of construction.

The now covered well shows that the adage is true that a castle’s defence is only as deep as its well and the witch doctor who dug a whole at the top of the Boma hill looking for German treasure found only spent German rifle cartridges. Using a chicken as a metal detector probably was not the best method of finding treasure though. The fact that Tanzania is relatively boring to a student of war belies its greatest asset. The peaceable nature of its citizens.

There are several different types of antimalarial medication, the choice of which depends on such factors as area to be visited, length of stay, your own medical history, medication you may already be taking, type of holiday (hotel, cruise, trekking etc).

These drugs can be loosely divided between the older formulations (Chloroquine and Proguanil) and the more recent preparations licensed for antimalarial use (Doxycycline, Mefloquine and Malarone).

Chloroquine has been used for around 50 years and during that time vast areas of the ‘malarious world’ have become resistant. As a 4-aminoquinoline derivative chloroquine prevents nucleic acid synthesis in actively dividing erythrocitic malarial parasites and thus DNA synthesis is affected. The drug is taken as two tablets weekly on the same day of each week, Countries still sensitive to Chloroquine include Costa Rica, Belize and Mexico.

Proguanil is a Biguanide which is metabolised in the body to cycloguanil, an active form that blocks the production of folic acid and subsequent synthesis of DNA. The human cells are not affected by this action except during pregnancy where your doctor will usually give a folic acid supplement to counteract a possible shortfall in the mothers cells.

As with Chloroquine there is widespread resistance now to Proguanil and it is often given in areas where the traveller is unable to take Chloroquine for some reason (such as sensitivity to the product). The Chloroquine and Proguanil when combined in one pack as Paludrine/Avloclor travel pack form a more formidable antimalarial and can be used in many more areas where the individual drugs would not be effective enough.

In the Travel Pack of Paludrine/Avloclor produced by Astra Zeneca the dosage of Proguanil is two daily which would be taken at the same time and the Avloclor (Chloroquine) is two weekly, also taken together. (A calendar pack gives an easy format and prevents mistakes in dosage whilst away.) Proguanil/Chloroquine is used in countries such as Sri Lanka, Nepal and most of India. These preparations can be purchased without prescription from Pharmacies.

The ‘newer’ group of antimalarials are helping to prevent malaria in areas where resistance has become a major problem, the malaria parasites being incredibly adept at mutating and hence overcoming the drugs used against them.

Malarone is Atovoquone and Proguanil combined to give a combination of an antiprotozoal and a biguanide. The dosage is one tablet daily for adults usually taken one or two days before entering the malarious area, during and for seven days on leaving. There is also now a paediatric formulation for children.

Lariam (Mefloquine) is a 4-aminoquinoline (as in Chloroquine) and in adults is taken as one tablet weekly. To check for side effects your doctor will often prescribe these at least two and a half weeks before travel, during and for four weeks on return.

Last but not least is Doxycycline a well tried and tested tetracycline antibiotic given as the hyclate. This was found to have marked antimalarial properties as well as being an antibiotic. It is usually given one week before travel (if it has never been taken before), during and for four weeks on return.

These last three products are prescription only and can only be obtained from a Pharmacy on supply of a private prescription issued by your doctor or travel clinic. Depending on your medical history etc., your doctor will decide which of these preparations are suitable for your travels.

Chloroquine for example is not normally given if you suffer from psoriasis or epilepsy. If taking Warfarin for blood thinning always check this out with your doctor, and likewise if pregnant or hoping to become pregnant then again you must consult your doctor first before taking an antimalarial drugs.

Your G.P. or Travel Nurse will check out the area you are about to visit and together with medical history and knowledge of the type of holiday will prescribe the relevant antimalarial.

For prices and supply of any of these preparations you can log on to www.travelpharm.com or ring us on 01395 233771

The day not long born – Bloody hot already, the sun reflecting off the tarmac and I could already feel the weight of the heat on my back and head, even through my Tilley hat. The fragile looking little single-engined plane, nicknamed in Brazil a ‘Teko Teko’ because of its resemblance in sound and vision to a child’s model plane driven by elastic bands – It stood there and shimmered and glowed in the sunshine while the temperature had not yet even reached 42 degrees Celsius.

In what seemed like slow motion a fat mechanic slowly hand pumped fuel into the plane’s tank. The smell of aviation fuel added itself to the tropical morning smells as Adam Baines and I stood waiting nervously to load and board this Teko Teko. Denis, the pilot, stood there in his beautifully cut, fashionably faded Khaki. This forty-something, athletic pilot exuded confidence as he emerged from the cockpit holding a slender glass phial which he dipped in the fuel tank. Denis looked at the yellow liquid in the phial against the blue, blue sky. He slowly brought it to his nose and gently sniffed it and rolled it under his nose with the concentration of a wine connoisseur. In Cruzeiro the pilot’s nose makes the final decision between aviation fuel and anything else that could find its way into tank!

Denis eyes turned to us, then drifted slowly over our baggage. He was not in a good mood. We were last minute passengers with extra weight, forcing him to remove all his various boxes, destined for different jungle stops and reload the craft again. On top of that we were going to pay the $900-00 with travellers’ cheques instead of US dollars cash. Denis looked us over. I could feel him wondering if the traveller’s cheques would bounce. He starred at these two Europeans and he probably wondered if we knew what we were getting into. I said, “The traveller’s cheques are paying for the return as well as the outward journey and, if they bounce; you won’t have to bring us back. Chief Biraci will vouch for us anyway”. Right he said, looking at my waistline “Back to the cargo hanger to get you weighed”. Finally, now having to believe that I really did weigh 85 Kilos, we approached the plane again.

Instrument checks done, the tower gave us clearance, chocks away. Propeller whirling, he shouted above the engine in English, let us sway. Mystified for a moment, then Denis loudly said the Lord’s Prayer in Portuguese and asked for the Lord to watch over our journey. A moment of reality came through the excitement and I prayed to whatever gods are up there, please keep an eye on us. The plane slowly surged forward, gathering speed, it lifted off and skimmed above the trees. Cruzeiro gradually disappeared behind us. At last, the adventure was to begin as we soared up, up and away.

I saw a carpet of green under the sky blue canopy, the sea of endless forest stretching as far as the eye could see to the edges of the horizon. I had a feeling of how small and insignificant are men in comparison to this wonder of nature. We flew on, gradually leaving behind the amazing golden beaches of the snaking river Jurua, so different from any riverbank I had come across before in either Africa or Australasia.

I was sitting in the seat by the pilot with my camera at the ready. Ready for what? I looked down at the trees so tightly packed together, my imagination was running away with the thought of what might happen if our one motor took sick and died. Chief Biraci had said, “There are no bad old pilots in the Amazon. Bad pilots die young; and so do their passengers”. Quickly glancing round I saw Adam starring out of the window, obviously moved by the sight of such beauty. Not the time to spoil his dream with a possible nightmare, for at that moment a rainbow appeared across the jungle and made what was already wonderful, magical. I looked at the Chief relaxed in his seat. I began to feel some of passion he had for his home, and also began to understand how he stood up at a conference in Panama and caused consternation by tearing up a prepared speech while shouting, “The Yawanawa want their land back”.

This man, who had lived on the building sites of Rio Branco and earned a pittance of money, had not only fed and clothed his body, but also fed his mind and soul and to become a survivor. At a time when most Indians ended up on the bottom of the human scrap heap, became alcoholics and the low life of the gutters of these fifth world towns. Chief Biraci had educated himself, fought for Indian rights to become their spokesman at the various conferences that became fashionable in the 80’s when the 1st world became aware of environmental issues. This plane journey was giving Biraci a small escape from his almost constant responsibility for the tribe. We had been in the air now for about 75 minutes, a journey that would have taken about fifteen days on foot or twenty by canoe.

Denis, the pilot, banked the plane and we moved on to another compass heading. He shouted over the roar of the engine in as much of a conversational tone as possible, “Don’t forget to be back on the grass strip on the date we agreed. We were cutting it fine by planning to be back just a couple of days before the start of the rainy season and the plane would be unable to land if the strip was waterlogged. I had already had a bad landing on a previous trip on a water soaked landing strip, the plane had tipped up on its nose – So, I had been there, done that and had no desire to repeat the excitement. “I make two passes and then I leave – That’s the deal”. I shouted back to the pilot,” I won’t forget, nor will Adam we both know that a seventeen day walk as the wet season starts could be the end for us”. Denis smiled,”Could be? It definitely would be”. “Thanks for the vote of confidence”, I shouted. We banked again and Denis said, “Sete Estrellas, time to land”. We swooped down low, crossing the river Gregoria and making for the grass strip by the side of the small group of thatched huts that was the village of Sete Estrellas and the jumping off point for our trip into the unknown.

1. The USA has more personal computers than the next 7 countries combined.

2. Americans and Icelanders go to the pictures on average 5 times a year, while Japanese go only once.

3. The United States spends more money on its military than the next 12 nations combined.

4. Kazakhstan is the world's largest landlocked country.

5. Most people live in poverty in most African countries.

6. Only two countries in the world are doubly landlocked: Liechtenstein and Uzbekistan.

7. Senior gentlemen might consider a trip to Russia, where there's two over 65 women for every man.

8. Sick of crowds? Try Greenland where there's 38 sq km per person.

9. Sri Lanka has lowest divorce rate in the world – and the highest rate of female suicide.

10. South Korea is the heliport capital of the world.

Michelle writes: I felt compelled to write about my second visit to The Gambia, it was all so different and held so many new experiences for me than from my first visit back in February this year. I also appear to have 'dodged' the bumsters – as I got to know and befriend a few the first visit – hey life is hard they need to live yeh! And you fail to mention poverty in Gambia – as a 'developing country' in your news letter! I appreciate bumsters can be annoying – I just tend to say 'no abaracca' (thank you) and emphasise I'm staying at Kololi compound like a Gambian and they leave me alone!

Yes, I stayed at a compound/lodge (£6 per night) and was no 5 star hotel – but if travellers want to experience The Gambia, what better way than to live the true Gambian experience? Ok sometimes it is a trickle from the cold water shower, the electricity is on 50% of the time, the two ring gas cooker is outside, and there’s a flea bitten dog guarding the gates to the compound..but hey my Gambian friends can visit – they are not excluded as they were when I stayed on a complex. I'd also like to mention the compound like the one mentioned below was moderately clean enough!

The benefits of befriending Gambian people whether they are bumsters or taxi drivers or people from my friend Fakeba's compound – and they do not have the luxury of a toilet or running water there (water from the well in buckets) – or adequate schools for the children – (a tin hut!) is sharing experience. One of the best true experiences was sharing Koriteh holiday – the end of Ramadam with 14 adults and 10 children all living in one compound (about 8 one bedroomed houses) and sharing together excellent food from 4 large bowls and green tea. The children so nice and happy with no toys dressed in their Sunday best, the women worked so hard to make the meal. And other children and friends all come around from other compounds..is sooo nice.

So I have my best soul mate Fakeba to show me around – I am charged as a Gambian not as a tourist..and my money is going into the local economy and not to the 'middle man' in an hotel! This cuts my costs down by at least 50%. So try the market in Serrekunda – I feel I was the only white person there – but food shopping is much cheaper than the supermarket – and as fresh – though the meat market was something else! (Very hot with flies and smelled!) though the food my friends cooked for me after – wow! So I return in kind..it is not hard, what I can save I can give – especially to the children. Please don’t ever go to the Gambia without some clothes for them or stationery for their school (special mention for Karin Nursery School, Serrekunda). Or why not give stationery to the children in a compound who do not go to school – less than 50% of the children can read or write.

So my new experiences apart from those I mention above? Seeing dolphins coming back from St James Island – look out for them, and its a wonderful swim there! Seeing the women going out on their small canoes to pick oysters at Lamin Lodge.. my favourite place.. Seeing monitor lizards at Bijilo (monkey park). I'd also recommend going to Brufut fishing village – I rode by bike – but I’m sure there are easier ways to get there – saw cows being herded on the beach and the boats were so colourful – is sooo beautiful.

I would say more about less beautiful encounters I witnessed between my friends and the police…. but I may get censored!

I'd like to give a special mention to Kotu Point beach bar..one of the best and only bars that does not discriminate against Gambians trying to make a living by selling things.. or 'hanging out' there… the views are wonderful as are my friends and the music there – and especially 'bongo man' who will teach anyone to play! I’d also like to say to all you tourist not happy with Gambia – please remember it is a developing country that does not have the same access to health care, sanitation, education, social security and employment we in the west are privileged to have.. the culture is different – celebrate it along with all the similarities of humanity we all share! Share a smile on the smiley coast yeah – it is nice to be nice! I'm going back for more smiles next March… and especially looking forward to meeting my friend Fakeba's family who are Mandinka 180 miles up the river Gambia:)

This is the first in a series of trip reports sent to the Beetle by Globetrotter Steve who is travelling around South America and Easter Island, the lucky chap! So, if you are planning trip to Suth America or are interested in knowing more about it, you may find Steve’s trip reports of interest.

Life has it's ups and downs. On Tuesday I started the journey with a tour to the Altiplano National Parks. There were just three of us in the group, myself and two Germans. We went first to the local farmer’s market to stock up on fresh vegetables and fruit for picnics on the trip. Then we headed inland for a view of ancient petroglyphs showing herdsmen and llamas. There was a tomato farm nearby where we bought fresh produce, exceptionally huge tomatoes.

The next call was a Hari Krishne monastery where we had lunch and then started to climb. It was the main road to La Paz and there were some heavy lorries on the road, one of which had started to roll backwards and had come a cropper. We called at a fortified site over 2000 years old where the entrance to a fertile valley was guarded by a series of semi circular walls. The countryside was now very dry and we climbed through an area of cactus found only in that area of Chile. Near Socompa we went for a short walk down an Inca roadway and we started to see the first wild guanaco and llamas in the fields. We entered the village of Sacompa and looked at the very old church with its squat detached tower. From there we climbed to Putre where we were to stop for the evening. Unfortunately for me I was unable to eat the evening meal as I was feeling light-headed and wasn’t hungry. I had a very poor night’s sleep and was sick in the morning. Nevertheless I set off with the group up to Lauca National Park. There were spectacular views of the volcano across the lake and vicuña to be seen. The group went for a walk but I wasn't feeling well enough to go and so stayed with the vehicle. In fact I slept most of the time they were away. When they returned I was unable to keep fluids down. We returned to Pucalpa as planned but once there the group leader took me to a doctor who said my blood pressure was dangerously low because of the altitude and I needed to travel down to sea level immediately. They tested my blood pressure before oxygen, while breathing oxygen through a mask and then again after the mask was taken off. It immediately fell to very low levels. And so the tour leader drove me down to Arica immediately and the tour carried on without me.

The next day my appetite returned a little. I got a bus to Iquique and booked into a hotel for a couple of nights there. Iquique is a very strange city. It is set at the foot of cliffs that must be above 3000 feet high. An enormous sand dune extends into the Southern part of the city. The old downtown area was very run down and poor, but right next door are two large sandy bays and a lot of quite wealthy looking seaside developments – a casino, sailing club and smart hotels. In the old town is one long street of big houses built when the city was wealthy from the nitrate trade. This extended from an Opera House where Caruso sang to the sea. The whole street is listed and the buildings, built of timber shipped from Oregon in the 19th century, are being restored. It has all been pedestrianised with timber side walks, Victorian era lamp posts and street furniture installed and a new horse tram route is being constructed. Apart from these features it was quite a dull place and so yesterday I boarded another bus and spent four hours twisting down the spectacular coast with cliffs and mountains on one side and the Pacific on the other but nothing growing and no settlement. The road then turned inland past the Santa Elena Nitrate plant and an enormous copper mine to Calama where I changed bus and travelled the last hour to San Pedro, through the desert, as the sun set and the mountains glowed in oranges, reds and gold.

As the bus pulled in I saw one of the Germans who had been on the National Parks tour and chatted to him. I found myself a pleasant hotel and then went out for a good dinner in a restaurant with live musicians where I bumped into a retired Irish teacher from Maidstone who I had met in Arica.

After the problems of the Andes, San Pedro proved a welcome change. I took it easy on the first day, just going to the wonderful museum. I chose the same time as a SAGA group. What has happened to adventure travel? One member of the group was so overweight she wasn’t able to manage the whole museum tour and commented that the thin gold used for face masks looked as though it had been made to cover chocolate.

The next day I was feeling more adjusted to the altitude and walked out to a pre-Inca fort 3km from town. I arrived shortly after the SAGA party. The fort is built on a steep hillside where the river leaves a gorge and forms the oasis. The stonework was interesting, similar if cruder than Inca work. There was a maze of rooms, passages and who knows what leading up to an excellent viewpoint. The SAGA group didn't get there. The area has an interesting history. The Incas were only dominant for 60 years. The local people just submitted to them so were not defeated. However when news came that the Spanish had defeated the Incas the community leaders decided they weren't going to be dictated to about changing their names to match a new not understood religion. They therefore rebelled and retreated to their 11th Century fort. The Spanish, with horses and assisted by some local antagonistic neighbours defeated them in short time and executed the leaders. San Pedro de Atacama then became the sleepy backwater it remained until recently.

Next day, feeling full of confidence, I joined a tour to the Salar de Atacame to see the birds. The Salar looked like thawing snow, a grubby white and crunchy underfoot, with surface water in places. In the distance the distinct shape of the flamingos could be seen although even with strong binoculars you couldn't tell what species of the three found there were in sight. When they flew they looked even pinker and had an unusual Concorde profile with the wings far back along their bodies. In the distance Volcano Lascar steamed. It erupts every four years, the last time being 2000! It seems it throws out ash, not lava, and the winds always take the ash into Argentina. So that was alright.

The next stop was the isolated village of Socaire which had a very small stone church and tower. The church had become unsafe and so the community built a replica on a new town square but were now repairing the original. Around were terraces used for growing vegetables but slowly going out of use. Local men work in the Lithium extraction plant at the Salire and so the local economy is becoming cash based.

From the village we ascended to the deep blue Lakes of Miscanti and Miñques at above12,000 feet. We walked along a ridge from one to the other with stunning views and then back close to the shore. It was an important site for the flamingos to breed. They’re poor parents producing one chick which they will abandon if disturbed. It was the breeding season so we had to keep back from the lake shore. I was pleased to manage the walking without breathlessness or losing lunch!

The final stop was the village of Tocanao which is at the end of a gorge with a stream flowing through it. The stream is used for irrigating figs, quince, grapes and other fruit. The contrast between the arid highlands and the deep green of the valley was outstanding. It reminded me of Dovedale with surreal colour enhancement. Walking along the valley was a real pleasure after the heat and exertions of the rest of the day.

San Pedro de Atacama has an odd mix of visitors. There is a 'hippy' Chilean element, European gap year students, young European Professionals and elderly Islington or Baden Baden types having an alternative retirement holiday. The restaurants are a little more expensive than usual in Chile but have some adventurous combinations on the menu and the wine is delicious.

Well, I moved on to Antofagasta. Antofagasta is lack lustre. It's just a busy city and a bit down at heel. I decided to spend half a day looking at an industrial museum a little out of town. At the bus station this morning there were several ticket windows with bored staff sitting behind them and closed signs firmly in place. I went to the enquiry desk where three men were assisting one customer. After a while one broke away to see me. Can I have a ticket to Bacquedano I asked. I was told to get on the bus already in the terminal quickly and buy a ticket from the conductor. After half an hour the bus left. (Why the hurry?) “Bacquedano” I said to the conductor. “Calama?” he replied. “No, Baquedano.” I said. “Maria Elena?” he said. “No. Baquedano,” I said firmly and pointed to it in heavy print in my guide book. “Ah, Baquedano” he said, “$1 000”. I paid.

The museum was hopeless, uncared for, vandalised and derelict. I nosed around, did a sketch and went top the village for lunch. I had a tasty empenada and a cola for about a pound and then asked where was the best place to get a bus back to Antofagasta. The cafe owner said they were every half hour and you could flag them down infront of the cafe. He would bring me a chair so I could sit in the shade. As he was telling me this a bus went past. I sat in the shade for an hour before the next bus came. I waved. The driver and conductor waved back and drove past in a half empty bus. I decided to walk up to the police check point at the entry to town were all buses and trucks have to stop. After half an hour of standing in the early afternoon heat a bus came and I got on. He then stopped and picked someone else up outside the cafe where I had been sitting half an hour earlier.

Back in town I felt I deserved a coffee and lemon pie. After quite a while the waiter returned with the coffee but said there was no lemon pie. I’m going to treat myself to a nice sea food dinner and white wine. Wish me luck.

Next Steve goes to Easter Island.