Bassano sits in a stunning location by the River Brenta with Monte Grappa in the background. It is about 35 kilometres north east of Vicenza. The town's symbols are said to be the Palladian bridge, white asparagus, ceramics and the Grappa liqueur. I visited the town for the day in February 2005. I really liked the location, the fresh air, the fast flowing river and the picturesque bridge. If you like to be slightly off the tourist track and would prefer a more rural setting for short break or as a base for a touring holiday, Bassano is ideal.

How to get there

The nearest airports are Treviso, used by Ryanair as its airport for Venice and Venice Marco Polo. You could hire a car from the airport. It is possible to reach Bassano by train on the Vicenzia – Trento or Padova – Bassano lines.

History

It is often assumed that the city takes its name from the well known liqueur Grappa. This is not the case; it is named after Monte Grappa. The mountain's name is said to originate from crapp or greep, meaning crag in an ancient pre-Latin language. The liqueur Grappa's name stems from grappolo, meaning a cluster of grapes.

Grappa liqueur has been produced in Bassano since 1779 when Bortolo Nardini bought a Grapperia on the Brenta River bank. Grappa is made from the by-products of wine making, the seeds, stems and skins. The company is still run by members of the Nardini family, accounting for around one quarter of annual grappa production.

Ponte Vecchia has become synonymous with Bassano. The bridge is first mentioned in the 11th century. The bridge has been rebuilt several times due to flooding or destruction during wars. It is still the original design by Palladio from 1569. The bridge is built of wood, making it more resilient to the fast flowing River Brenta.

There is a record of the city on St Mary's Hill from the 10th century. From the 14th to 18th century the city was under Venetian rule. It became well known for the manufacture of ceramics, wool, silk, iron and copper. The Remondini family ran one of the most up to date printing houses in Europe from the17th to the 19th century.

The Town Hall was first constructed in1405. Bartolomeo Ferranci installed the present clock mechanism in 1743. The interior walls are adorned by frescoes of 120 coats of arms.

White asparagus was first produced in the 16th century after Bassano experienced a hailstorm which destroyed the asparagus crop. The farmers dug up the part of the plant below the earth and discovered that it was so tender and delicious that they started to grow it underground permanently.

Parolini, a local nobleman, designed the Giardini Parolini in the early 19th century. In 1829 Parolini catalogued 3000 plant species in the garden.

During the First World War the Italians took a last stand against the Austrians in Monte Grappa where they entrenched themselves in tunnels and bunkers to repel the Austrian attackers. Over 12,000 Italian and 10,000 Austrian soldiers lost their lives in the numerous battles.

During the Second World War Italian partisans hid in Monte Grappa, organising raids on the main supply route from Germany to the German troops stationed in Italy. In 1944 the Germans took revenge by marching up the mountain behind women, children and elderly local inhabitants. Any partisans discovered or civilians suspected of assisting partisans were killed. There were public hangings and shootings with families forced to watch.

In 1946 the Italian prime minister awarded Basssano the gold medal for military valour. Every year the city commemorates these events during September.

The Museo degli Alpini was established in 1948 in memory of the Italian Alpine Troops It is located on the eastern side of the Ponte Vecchio. You have to enter it through a cafe. I found this rather confusing but the museum is down stairs to the left when you enter the cafe. Originally the collection was very small but has grown as more war relics have been gathered together. There are many original photos, uniforms and armoury.

Museo della Cermica is near the eastern side of the Ponte Vecchio. The building was constructed as the residence of Ferrari family, owners of a local silk factory. The entrance hall is adorned with a fresco by Giorgio Anseli. There are pieces of engraved ceramics from medieval times, Mainardi majolica pieces from the 17th and 18th century, along with modern pieces.

The Civic Musuem is one of the oldest in the Veneto region. It was built in1828 on the site of the convent of St Francis. It houses a collection of paintings by the Da Ponti family, Guariento and Magnasco, a collection of prints by the Remondini family. There is also an archaeological section and pieces by Antonio Canova.

Bassano boasts several churches. San Donato was built in 1208. It is claimed that St Francis of Assisi and St Anthony of Padua both stayed here during the third decade of the 13th century. The church was a hospital, run by Benedictine nuns in the 14th century, then a Fransican monastery during the 15th century. The church was restored in 1900, including work being done on the cell which was used by the two saints.

The Church of San Francesco was started in the mid 12th century, after the return of Ezzelino 11, the Stutterer, from the Holy Land. The Church of St John the Baptist was originally built in 1308 but reconstructed in the 18th century by local architect Giovanni Miazzi. Giambattista Piazzetti made the altarpiece of John the Baptist and Orzio Marinali created the statues of angels and the bas-reliefs.

The Cathedral of Holy Mary was a 10th century parish church in the original high part of the town. The present cathedral dates from the 17th century. The high altar piece and the painting of St Stephen are the work of Leandro di Ponte, and the sculptures are by Mainali. Di Giacomo Dacci made the organ and the three ceiling paintings are by Volpata.

Day trips

Marostica

Marostica is a 14th century medieval town where the original town wall stands intact. It is best known as the “town of chess”. Every second year a match, with people dressed in elaborate costumes to portray the pieces, is played on the giant chessboard below the castle. This takes place on the second Friday, Saturday and Sunday every second year, when the year ends in an even number. This commemorates the chess match played in 1454 when the victor was to win the hand in marriage of Lianora, the daughter of the Lord of the Castle of Marostica. Two suitors, Rinaldo d'Angarano and Vieti da Vallonara, had fallen in love with Lianora and were to fight a duel to see how would marry Lianora. The Lord forbade the duel and order decreed that the victor of the chess match would marry Lianora. However all was not lost for the defeated suitor, as he would marry Lianora's younger sister, Oldrata. The period costumes are permanently displayed in the Lower Castle.

Marostica holds a Cherry Festival every year during May and June. There are kiosks in the streets selling a variety of cherries including morello, roame, marostagne and sander. There is an annual exhibition of comic cartoons in the town. Every July and August local craftsmen display their work the exhibition hall of the Lower Caste. There are some lovely walks through the surrounding hills.

Asola

Asola is a charming hilltop town, with a castle, a cathedral with a altar piece by Lorenzo Lotto and the 15th century Palazzo della Ragione. It was called the “city of one thousand horizons” by Giosue Carducci, because of all the fantastic views. It was much favoured by the Venetian nobility. Caterina Corona, the former Queen of Cyprus, lived here in the late 15th century. Robert Browning, the English poet, bought a house ere in the mid 17th century. Eleanora Duse, credited with being the greatest actress of the Italian stage was also a resident. The travel writer Freya Stark was brought up in Asolo and spent a lot of time here between her various expeditions. There is an antiques market every second weekend of the month, except during July and August.

Karen Bryan is an independent travel consultant and writer, specialising in less well known destinations in Europe. Her websites are: www.europealacarte.co.uk, www.europe-culture-activity-tours

Scotland has been a favourite holiday destination for many years and now it has a growing reputation as a favourite destination for couples from around the world to tie the knot. Here are the eleven main reasons:-

1 There are no residency requirements. Couples from anywhere in the world can get married in Scotland. You don't have to live here. You don't need UK citizenship. All you have to do is complete the necessary legal formalities and you can marry within 24 hours of arriving here.

2 You can get married anywhere – absolutely anywhere – in the country. On a beach, in a castle, up a mountain, in a hotel, by a loch… your choices are limitless.

3 You can opt for a civil or a religious ceremony. The civil ceremony is more restrictive as regards your choice of venue because they have to be licensed by the local authority. But there are now so many venues licensed for civil ceremonies that, in practice, you will always find somewhere to match your dream.

4 A religious ceremony, conducted by a minister can be held anywhere. I have known them to be held on boats, in lighthouses and even on cliff-tops! Obliging and occasionally daring ministers can always be found.

5 Ceremonies can even be conducted by non-religious celebrants, including certain officers of the Humanist Society.

6 The choice of venues is staggering. From sophisticated Glasgow to traditional Edinburgh; from the rugged, breathtaking beauty of the Highlands to the Ayrshire coast; from imposing castle to pretty little village church, Scotland has it all.

7 You can fly into Glasgow, Prestwick, Edinburgh, Aberdeen or Inverness airports and be close to your wedding venue from the start.

8 So many people around the world have Scottish ancestry and love to search out their roots.

9 What better clothes to wear at your ceremony than the kilt, made especially for you in your own tartan.

10 And what better accompaniment as the bride enters the wedding venue than a Highland wedding tune played on bagpipes!

11 And after the ceremony, what better way to toast the health of the bride and groom than with a single malt whisky from a Scottish quaich in the country where it is made!

The truth is, there are lots of reasons for you to hold your wedding ceremony in Scotland. If you are in love, Scotland is the place for you. If you believe in romance, Scotland is the place for you. If you long for the mystery of the lochs, the glens, the castles and the mountains, Scotland is the place for you.

Charlie Taylor is one of the founders of Highland Country Weddings Ltd, a Scottish weddings agency with an international dimension. For more information, please visit

Trip duration: 56 days
Trip miles to date: 5,632
Miles since last update: 472

Having completed over 5,600 miles in the previous 5 weeks, these past two weeks have been frustratingly static as I've waited for the Beemer to complete its rest and recuperation courtesy of the BMW dealership in Santiago. Having sampled a lot of wine, I've visited probably every museum in Santiago and spent a long lazy weekend in Valparaìso I'm definitely ready to get moving again.

I'm also sad to report that shortly after I left the Torres del Paine national park an intense forest fire broke out which has now been burning for 3 weeks. Over 14,000 acres have been destroyed and wildlife has fled from the area and the entire park closed in what was peak season.

The fire was started by a Czech tourist who knocked over his stove whilst illegally camping outside the official boundaries, trails and designated camping areas – after a fine of US$200 he was allowed to leave the country. Significant attempts to teach visitors the perils of fire were plastered all around the park when I was there and the stupidity of the Czech made national news.

Ruta 5 up from Temuco was a 2 lane, blissfully smooth, tarmac road all the way to Santiago. In fact Ruta 5 is the major artery that runs the length of Chile from the tip of Chiloe in the south to Arica, on the border with Peru in the north – a distance of some 1,600 miles and is probably better known as the Panamerica highway.

Although this is not highway in the English sense of the word. Even for the stretch leading to Santiago, you should think less M25 and more like a medium size A-road. The speed limit is 120 kph (75mph) although most vehicles seem to interpret this as “as-fast-as-this-vehicle-will-allow” and speed differentials vary greatly.

Another notable feature is the volume and bravery of pedestrians. The entire length seems to harbour life like a coral reef as towns and villages straddle the road. Locals seem to appear from all directions and fearlessly cross the road in the face of onrushing traffic. Strangely I saw a woman, carrying 2 small children, struggle over the raised central reservation (rather than use the raised pedestrian walkway installed not more than 50 metres away).

My initial view of Santiago was breathtaking and surprising. Having spent many weeks in the wilderness of Tierra del Fuego and Pategonia the mere sight of a huge, sprawling city containing millions of citizens was surprising. My initial impressions of Santiago were of a warm, friendly and generally happy capital. In fact I felt more comfortable than Buenos Aires – I'm not sure if this is a reflection of the comparable characteristics of the 2 cities, or the fact that I'm more conditioned to South America after nearly 2 months.

One first task was to collect a package sent from Touratech – being a replacement lid to the pannier box and various other parts. Rather than deliver them to the hotel, DHL left me a note requesting I pick up the package from the airport (thanks!) as the goods exceeded the US$500 limit on imported packages. After I pointed out that the only reason it exceeded US$500 was because they had forgotten to omit the US$400 freight costs they conceded I could collect the package after I paid a further US$200 import taxes.

I struggled to keep my temper after I pointed out that US$200 taxes on goods worth no more than US$150 could not be right. It frustratingly took me 4 hours to persuade DHL and custom officers (including opening up the package) that taxes were not due and I could leave the airport with the parts. As a piece of luggage, the price is comparable to anything Louis Vitton ever put out but it has bought me piece of mind and will make life easier.

The ride up took me through the prime wine-growing real estate of Chile. After depositing the Beemer with the (only) BMW garage in Chile I rented a pick-up and headed back down the road to tour the area and sample some of the produce. The quality of the wine belies its price and the Carmenère grape (unique to Chile) has become a favourite.

After 3 of the 4 days had passed I quickly appreciated that they would need at least another week (waiting for parts) so I hired a car and drove to Valparaìso, the historic port town about 60 miles to the west.

Rather ungainfully tacked onto the side of Valparaìso is Vinà del Mar. Whilst Valparaìso is a busy commercial port full of historical buildings, busy market places and rickety old carriages that ascend the surrounding hills to the residential areas Vinà del Mar is full of bars, restaurants, modern shopping malls and beach side holiday apartments for wealthy Chileans.

After 4 days of wandering around the raised walkways and picturesque alleyways of Valparaìso and 1 day sitting on the beach in Vinà del Mar I returned to Santiago to check on progress of the Beemer. Good news and bad news awaited me.

The bike was still 3 days away from being finished but they had discovered a holed radiator (explaining an overheating issue on the road into Santiago) and a burnt-out wiring loom where the heated grips had shorted following the crash in Argentina. The fork seals had arrived and were being fitted as I visited and as I write this I expect to pick up the bike this afternoon – after depositing an unfeasibly huge amount of money with the garage.

These past 2 weeks have moved incredibly slowly, the bike (and I) are back in good shape to tackle the demands of the Atacama desert and onwards to Bolivia and the Salar de Uluni.

If you want to know more about Greg's travels, visit his website at: http://www.unbeatentrack.com/

We are sorry to say that Mac is not very well, but he is still e-mailing strong and recently sent the Beetle a collection of travel reminiscences.

Scotland. Inch is Gallic for island. Firth is a mouth of a river. Brae is a hill. Haggis is in a shape of a ball but you don't kick it you eat it. It is sheep's intestines and oatmeal wrapped in a sheep's bladder. After you eat it you wish you had kicked it. It was so clear when I was in Edinburgh that I could see to Fife from the Firth of Forth or maybe it was Forth I saw from the Fife of Firth. A Firth is like a fjord only not as far. Anyway it was a clear day.

Many years ago I gave a Scottish lady some tea bags I was carrying in my backpack. The lady had been used to brewing tea in bulk and said Oh how clever they have measured out a spoonful in a container. She then ripped open tea bag and dropped the contents into the pot. (I am sure they probably have tea bags now!)

And let's move on to Irish toasts. An Irish guide toasted us with, “Here's to the best years of my life, spent in the arms of another man's wife, my Mother”. The guide in Dublin Castle told us of a hanging judge. The judge would fall asleep while hearing a case and then all of a sudden wake up, bang his gravel and shout, “Hang the Dog.” A priest at mass in Dublin one morning told this story. He said he was giving a sermon on death and remarked that everyone in the Parish would die some day. One guy had a big smile on his face and when asked why he was smiling replied, “I am not from this parish!”

One of the residents here in the Soldier's home is going to Scotland and England for a month this Fall and another friend of mine here at the home (Saigon) is interested in things Scottish so I am copying stuff down from an interesting article I found in the Travel Section Washington Times. The title of the article is The Enchanting Highlands by Corina Lothar. “Mr Owens arrives in 18th century attire and explains the history of the Scottish Kilt which dates back about 1,000 years and is related to the Roman toga and Indian Sari. He demonstrates how to pleat the eight yards of fabric and tells us that the white cockade in the cap is the symbol of Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Jacobites in the 18th century Battle of Calddean. The sporran, the curious pouch hanging in the front of the kilt originally was used to carry oatmeal (I never knew that) still a staple of Scottish kitchens.

Women too wore long kilts. The warring clansmen carried a targe (shield) with spikes and a dagger in the left hand and a basket-hilted broadsword in the right. Expressions such as “going off half-cocked” and “a flash in the pan” and “sideburns” all come from clan warfare, reflecting the dangers of incorrectly cocked musket and the facial hair worn to protect the cheek from powder burns (so that is where term sideburns comes from. I never knew that. There is so much I don't know!

Kilt pins are a Victorian addition. Queen Victoria who was never easily amused, reviewed one of her Highland regiments on a windy day. Pins were soon ordered to keep the slits in the kilts closed. All of which brings us to this very old joke. A soldier wearing a kilt is asked by a young lass what is worn under the kilt. The soldier replies. “Nothing is worn. Everything is in fine shape.”

There is a Victorian mansion in Scotland built by Jardine Matheson of Hong Kong. Owner of “go-downs” as the Chinese workers first called the warehouses in that formerly British Colony (as in “Go down to collect a bale of hemp.) This is me talking now. When I was in Hong Kong I was told that the expression cumshaw (meaning asking for a tip) came from the Chinese who used to go out and meet the U.S. military ships with small boats to take the sailors ashore in their small boats away from the huge ships that could not get in any closer. They learned to say Come Shore and they would get tips for hauling them ashore. It finally got to sounding like Comshaw or whatever the expression is asking for money.

Ten percent of the whisky lost (in processing) through evaporation is called “the angels share”. Distilleries are open to the public from April through October. “The Royal Scotsman (tourist train) speeds through the wild Scottish countryside on iron, not brine through deep green forests of pine moors that turn purple in August and September when the heather is in bloom.

If you would like to contact Mac, he can be e-mailed on: macsan400@yahoo.com

Meeting News from our branches around the world.

This months meeting took place at another new venue, The Dragon Hall in Stukeley Street. Despite the change of venue the meeting was well attended, with one member (Padmassana) flying in from Rome just in the nick of time to attend.

Our first speaker of the afternoon was Neil Taylor who talked to us about “Estonia, Tallinn and the Baltic Capitals”. Neil told us how these countries have come a long way in a short time from being part of the old Soviet Union to independent countries now served by low cost airlines. The countries do not have much in the way of natural countryside to attract the visitor, it’s their towns and cities that are worth the look. Tallinn in Estonia is the best known, though often full of Finns seeking cheap alcohol, but also has an old own full of charm. Nowadays there are many bars, restaurants and hotels to cater for tourists in the Baltic States and the days of surly waiters, demanding hefty tips in US $ for even condescending to serve you a drink have been consigned to history. Neil has written the Bradt guide to Estonia – see www.bradtguides.com

After the break Stevie Smith gave us a thoroughly entertaining talk on the Expedition 360 – see www.expedition360.com Steve along with Jason Lewis set out in 1994 to circumnavigate the Globe using manpower only. They built a boat, called Moksha, a Sanskrit word meaning freedom, which is powered by pedal power to cross the seas and oceans. The UK boat show allowed them to promote their trip, but there was a slight hitch with the publicity leaflets; they dictated to the printer that they would be living on “dehydrated rations”, but this was printed as “dehydrated Russians”. They left Greenwich in 1994 expecting the journey to take a couple of years, but it’s now 2005, and they still have a way to go. They initially cycled to Portugal and then spent 111 days crossing the Atlantic to Florida. Jason then roller skated across the US, before being hit by a geriatric, blind car driver and spent 8 months off the road. Their boat took them across to Hawaii, which you can read about in Steve’s book “Pedalling to Hawaii”, www.p2hi.com. They have crossed the Pacific and Jason is now making his way up through S.E. Asia towards Singapore.

Saturday 5th November

This meeting will be at our regular venue, The Church of Scotland, Crown Court, behind the Fortune Theatre in Covent Garden and will start at 2.30pm, Doors open at 2.15 pm.

Tom Fremantle will be talking about “A Journey down the River Niger” by dugout canoe and donkey cart. Tom follows the trail blazing Scottish explorer Mungo Park, taking in mangrove swamps, Tuareg camps and the legendary city of Timbuktu. [Gambia, Senegal, Mali, Nigeria] www.mini-mule.co.uk

After the tea and coffee break, Amar Grover will be talking about “The Ethnic Minorities in China.” China has 55 Minorities living in the countries most beautiful and interesting corners. http://www.travelintelligence.com

London meetings are held at The Church of Scotland, Crown Court, behind the Fortune Theatre in Covent Garden at 2.30pm the first Saturday of each month. There is no London meeting in August, but we will be back in September. For more information, you can contact the Globetrotters Info line on +44 (0) 20 8674 6229, or visit the website: www.globetrotters.co.uk Admission Members £2.50 Non-members £5

For information on Ontario meetings, please contact Svatka Hermanek: shermanek@schulich.yorku.ca or Bruce Weber: tel. 416-203-0911 or Paul Webb: tel. 416-694-8259.

Meetings are held on the third Friday of January, March, May, September and November. Usually at the Woodsworth Co-op, Penthouse, 133, Wilton Street in down town Toronto at 8.00pm.

There’s a well trodden “tourist” route in Sabah, Borneo. Most people arrive in KK (Kota Kinabalu), from mainland Malaysia or Brunei. The usual route is to make the 1 night 2 day climb of Mt Kinabalu, scoff at seeing the ‘circus’ of orang-utans at Sepilok, (but still go,) do a jungle trek (complete with leeches when it rains) at Kinabatangan, and end up diving around Sipadan. The Beetle however, obviously a wuss, headed direct from KK for the delightful town of Semporna to go diving around Sipadan.

I am told that Semporna translates from Malay to mean ‘beautiful’. Beautiful it ain’t. It’s a small place clustered around the sea front, spilling up a small hill where a motley collection of shops, two budget hotels, an internet café, one KFC, a Courts Mammoth, Maybank, a supermarket and the mini van terminus can be found. Down the slope by the sea there are fish markets (upsettingly selling manta rays, blue spotted rays and sharks amongst the usual tuna etc.,) lots of small rickety wooden stalls with people selling water melons, small plastic bags of tomatoes, durian, bananas, rambutans, small piles of chillies, ginger and the like. The road from the top of the town leads via a small roundabout with a rusting sculpture of a marlin in a circle down a small incline to the central market and wharf. The road is broken up, badly pot holed and largely comprises rough gravel. Partially open culverts run by the side of the roads.

The place stinks and you have to pick your way around gaping holes in the pavement and road, steel girders stretched across the pavement and road, debris from semi abandoned buildings and rubbish: decomposing food, dead animals and plastic bags abound. Several divers came a cropper on any one/combination of the above and hurt themselves – and this on land and not in the sea.

Opposite the wharf, there’s the Dragon Inn budget hotel, a collection of long houses on stilts in the sea. To the right of that is the somewhat posher Seafest Hotel and cafe. In between there’s a small collection of dive operations.

I arrived during Ramadan, a time when there are a lot of dusty fruit and veg stalls during the day but the supermarket is closed until 7pm. The KFC was not doing a great deal of business during the day either, though there is a large Chinese population in Semporna and they were not fasting and could be found sitting in the kedai kopi – coffee shops. After 6.30pm, the local Malays broke their fast and sat in open air restaurants watching violent movies whilst feral cats fought beside for scraps of food. The owner of the place I stayed at, Lees Rest House gave me his views on Semporna, but not first without complaining how hard it was to do business as a Chinese person in Malay society. I was told that there were many illegal Filipino people, as Mindanao, in the south of the Philippines is close by.

You may wonder, from my description of Semporna, why I stayed there. Simple: because this is the best place to stay to go diving around Sipadan. The alternatives are to go and stay in one of two very swish resorts on Mabul – too expensive for me – one quoted me £1,100 for 7 days’ diving and accommodation, and the other is even more expensive. Another option is to stay in a long house on Mabul, which I did think about as it would mean that I could sleep in a little until the dive boat arrived from Semporna, but, being a Beetle, I decided to stay in my small but clean and air con’d room at Lees Guest House for 40 Ringits a night – about £6 and that I could run the twice daily gamut of hisses and whistles from the local men whilst walking down to the dive shop and back. They’ve obviously not seen a Beetle before.

A small oasis in the town called Semporna is a dive shop called Scuba Junkies, complete with fury creature Ewok, a white gangling ball of walking fluffiness. I did 21 dives with Scuba Junkies over seven days and can recommend them whole heartedly; they were professional, safe and fun to be with. The diving around Sipadan more than made up for staying in Semporna, which faded into insignificance compared to the sharks, turtles and reef fish I saw.

Sipadan diving really is world class diving. One dive site called Barracuda Point has so many resting sharks on sandy slopes and turtles that it is easy to become blasé about them. We also saw small schools of barracuda too, and I saw two leopard sharks, my first sighting ever. March/April time there are sometimes schools of hammerheads sharks. At times there are so many turtles that you have to get out of their way as they ease of their ledges or move from sandy patches. This is not necessarily deep diving, you can see all you hope to at less than 25 metres; yes, sometimes, there were strong-ish currents but nothing too difficult and on top of the reef at between 9 and 5 metres there was always a myriad of hundreds of reef fish.

There’s macro diving too, if that is your thing. I felt so in awe of the ‘big stuff’ around Sipadan that I did not want to miss out on that so only made three macro dives around Mabul. On one dive, around the pillars supporting an old oil exploration rig that is now the Sea Ventures floating hotel, at around 12 metres underneath a pile of iron girders is the most enormous moray eel I have ever seen. He is called Elvis, though I don’t know why. On the macro dives, we saw frog fish, scorpion leaf fish, juvenile sweetlips and there are sea horses, though I did not see one.

All of the photos in this article were kindly given to the Beetle by Tino, dive instructor, and one of the owners of Scuba Junkies.

We had just finished a fantastic evening barbecue at our Kakadu hostel. Most of us were settling in for an evening of drinking, talking and fighting off insects around the camp fire.

“Come on everyone, let’s go croc spotting” the hostel host said enthusiastically.

“Croc spotting?” someone exclaimed “but it’s night time?”

“Well, you don’t have to if you don’t want to” he said somewhat disheartened before adding. “I just thought you’d like to! Kakadu is another world at night!”

He paused to think of what else he could say to sway those hesitant.

“You don’t know when you will be back? But I’ll leave it up to you. I will be leaving in 10 minutes which will give you enough time to grab a jumper, a torch and put on a pair of walking shoes. Therefore, if you decide to come, you can meet me at the hostel gate”.

I already knew that I wanted to go night croc spotting. After all, I didn’t come all this way to miss out on anything. Off we headed into the darkness, a mini bus-load of city dwellers led by a bearded, bare-footed reptile lover along a moon lit dirt track in search of salt-water crocodiles. After a 15 minute walk which involved brief stops to look at the local flora and fauna including a spider which could have easily slapped someone with one of its huge legs, we arrived at a causeway.

“This is close enough I think” said our host. The causeway can be crossed by foot during the dry season, but as we weren’t quite in this season yet the causeway still had water rushing over it. Apparently it was a great fishing area. Unfortunately, we were told that only the week before a young boy was taken by a crocodile while fishing with his father here.

Our host spotlighted the causeway with his torch. We were about 50 feet away from it. A long, rough, grey croc tail disappeared over some rocks. This brought gasps of ‘wow’. It truly was an incredible sight to see a crocodile in its natural habitat. He then scanned the river with his torch.

“Look” he said excitedly “see those two orange snake eyes?”

I squinted into the darkness until I saw those two orange spots.

“Well that’s a croc” he said “and a bloody big one too”.

“How can you tell?” someone asked.

“The larger the eyes the bigger the croc. I’d say that one is at least 6 foot long, even more”.

“Wow” someone said. Wow seemed to be the word of the evening as most of us stumbled for words describe what we were seeing.

The area turned out to be mission control for our crocodile spotting. We all took turns standing next to our host looking at those illuminated, transparent, marble-like eyes. They were hypnotising. I felt like a kangaroo staring into some headlights.

More pairs of orange marbles appeared hovering in the darkness ahead of us. There must have been at least a dozen. No doubt, the buggers were thinking, food, succulent live food of all shapes and sizes, all waiting for an underwater roll. I was glad they were all over there and we were here.

“Have you ever smelt croc before?” our host suddenly asked.

“No” someone said, and I thought, I don’t think I want to.

“Can you smell that briny, salty water smell?”

I stuck my nose out into the darkness and let the smell fill my nostrils. It was an odour I was familiar with. It was similar to the smell of drying seaweed on a beach. Yeah I can smell that briny, salty water smell which intensified the longer I smelt it. No cause for alarm though I thought, after all, we have kept our distance.

“RUN” our host yelled.

It took a few seconds for what our host just said to register, but when it did, I and everyone else joined our host high tailing it back up the track. Whether this was a joke or not I am not sure. However, if you take a trip into Kakadu and your host of the hostel asks you to come for a walk to do some night croc spotting make sure you stay behind him at all times.

When we were younger, there was a TV program called Daktari. It was about a family in Africa, who looked after and raised many different types of orphaned wild animals. As kids we loved it and I remember getting deeply emotionally attached to the different animals.

Subsequently, having grown up in the bush in Africa and through my work as a ranger, I have taken care of many orphaned animals, all the way from small bush babies, giraffes, elephants and lions – even injured birds that had flown into power lines or windows.

My wife, Michèle also used to watch Daktari in France where she grew up. Already then she vowed to live in Africa one day and to look after animals herself. Her dream came true when we met on a game reserve, and she was able to assist in hand-raising a baby zebra which had been attacked by lions, an orphaned wildebeest, and two small orphaned warthogs whose mother had been killed by lions. Since then, there have been many more…

A very good friend is a quadriplegic. The joy he had (and us!) when we spent time together and he was able to help in raising these animals inspired an idea. We learnt, through our friend, that there is always a way to ‘make a plan’ so that he could assist in much of the day to day work needed to look after the animals. We rose to the challenge and modified or altered tools so that he could assist the animals nevertheless! Thus ‘making a plan’ is central to what Daktari is about.

The idea took shape and eventually we decided to set up a charity where people from all walks of life, underprivileged, handicapped or simply in need of a break or an adventure could have the opportunity of caring for animals in need and learn about nature. At Daktari they will all work together as one team – we will not segregate by race, religion, ideology or physical condition.

We have set ourselves a great challenge: our aim is to give people a chance to make themselves useful, to show them that they are needed, encourage them to take responsibility and let them be proud of their work and contribution to conservation. At the same time we want to offer animals a chance to survive in a world where nature has to retreat more and more in the face of human development. Hence, ‘doing good’ to people and animals is equally important to us. If every person on this planet has these two simple tenets, perhaps the world will be a better place to live in?

Daktari is not run by amateurs – it is run by experienced people who, if they do not know what to do, know whom to ask! It is run by people who have a common dream – and have the love and dedication to do it. For us, Daktari is a chance to share our world and some of the magical experiences that we have had in the bush over the years with others and it is thus immensely rewarding. It is a great character building experience for anyone that joins us and we hope that many more projects like this are started in the rest of the world and that our visitors share the knowledge and experiences they have gained!

Daktari is situated near the Kruger Park in South Africa, on a private reserve of 700 hectares, containing numerous plains game, but none of the “big five”. The closest town is Hoedspruit in the Limpopo Province. In the area there are many attractions, game drives in big five reserves, hot air ballooning, white water rafting, tours to the Kruger Park, reptile park, rehab centres, cheetah breeding project, Blyde River Canyon and many more!

We would be more than happy to tell you more about the project, and our accommodation (Daktari no longer rent out accommodation.) – just email or call. If you would like to get involved in the project – any help is greatly appreciated! Contact details are on our web page: http://africanorphanage.com

If, like the Beetle, you are travelling in a Muslim country, you should be aware that it is Ramadan, which started 5^th October. Ramadan is a special month of the year for over one billion Muslims throughout the world. It is a time for inner reflection, devotion to God, and self-control. Many Muslims regards Ramadan as a kind of tune-up for their spiritual lives. Fasting in Ramadan is obligatory for those who can do it, so people who are ill and pregnant women for example are exempted from the fast but must make it up as they are able.

The third “pillar” of (Sunni) Islam is fasting and is believed to have many benefits including a means of learning self-control and going without food and drink during the daylight hours is felt to improve one’s spiritual nature, which becomes a means of coming closer to God. Ramadan is also a time of intense worship, reading the Quran, giving charity, purifying one’s behaviour, and doing good deeds.

The daily period of fasting starts when the sun comes up and ends when the sun sets. In between this time, Muslims do not eat, drink, smoke or have sex. Many people to have a pre-fast meal (suhoor) before dawn and a post-fast meal (iftar) after sunset. In Brunei, where the Beetle has just finished working, working hours are cut short, with people leaving at 3pm to allow the women to prepare the evening meal. Many people have relatives and friends over during Ramadan to share their evening meal.

The last ten days of Ramadan are a time of special spiritual power as everyone tries to come closer to God through devotions and good deeds. The night on which the Quran was revealed to the Prophet, known as the Night of Power (Lailat ul-Qadr), is generally taken to be the 27th night of the month. The Quran states that this night is better than a thousand months. Many Muslims spend the entire night in prayer. During the month, Muslims try to read as much of the Quran as they can. Some spend part of their day listening to the recitation of the Quran in a mosque. Some spend the last ten days of Ramadan in a mosque devoting the whole ten days for worshipping God.

You should be respectful to those fasting during Ramadan, and this includes not eating in front of a person who is fasting or asking them to join you in food or drink during fasting hours.

Trip duration: 40 days
Trip miles to date: 5,160
Miles since last update: 2,080

It’s been an eventful few days since the last update. I’ve travelled over 2,000 miles, crossed 2 borders, crashed on the notorious Ruta 40, slept in the shadow of a glacier, been interviewed by Argentine TV and met some fascinating fellow travellers along the way.

From Puerto Natalès (last update) there is no road route north through Chile. You can either take a 4 day ferry to the Island of Chiloè, some 500 miles north or opt to do what I did and head back into Argentina. First stop was a visit to the Moreno Glacier National Park, just outside the busy tourist and backpacker town of El Calafete. This also marked the beginning of the notorious Ruta 40, a thin strip of dirt track that slithers down the western side of Argentina and the subject of numerous messages of warning and disasters from fellow travellers both prior to arrival and after.

The Glacier itself was stunning (see photo below), although the park itself was extremely busy with numerous bus trips from Calafete. Rather than find space in the town I elected to camp in the park, in the shadow of the glacier, allowing me to rise early and watch the sunrise light up the face. This experience is simply not done justice by the photo above.

Back onto the Ruta 40 north to visit El Charltèn, an Argentine equivalent to the Torres del Paine range in Chile. Early in the day I spotted the dust clouds and silhouettes of 2 bikes coming towards me. Each of us slowed down and we exchanged greetings in the middle of the road, in the middle of nowhere! They were Kevin and Julia Sanders, a couple I had read about and had visited their website (http://www.globebusters.com/) before coming to South America. They were on route to Ushuaia after starting in Vancouver, a trip not so different of my own. We parted promising to meet again in Alaska.

El Charletèn is a pretty, almost Alpine looking town sitting in the shadow of Mt Fitzroy, a 3,400 metre peak of granite dominating the skyline. I was only stopping for lunch but I bumped into Mad Marco from Germany, who was currently stuck in Charltèn as the forks on his Honda Africa Twin had permanently destroyed themselves.

That afternoon I headed for Tres Largos which, according to the map, would be a seemingly sensible place to stop for the night. I pulled into the gas station there at about 4.30 and met a group of Germans heading south. Now, for some reason I’m growing weary of travelling Germans. This a completely unreasonable and irrational assumption I know, but after several comments (all negative) about the preparation and condition of my bike (for example “your chain sprockets are about to expire” and “why is your seat set so low?” and “ugh, why are you using that GPS unit?”) I mentioned that I was going to look for somewhere to stay the night in Tres Largos.

I grant them that Tres Largos was little more than a gas station in the middle of a rock desert, but I wasn’t expecting the vehement “NEIN! There is NOTHING in Tres Largos! You MUST carry on and stay where we stayed last night” (an estancia some 100 miles further on). I should have taken note that by 4.30pm, they were in the same location as I was expected to be by that evening. That alone should have warned me of the condition of the upcoming stretch of road.

On top of this, Tres Largos represented the last opportunity for petrol until Bajo Caracoles, some 230 miles north. This is at the absolute maximum of the Beemer’s tank range so I filled my spare 10 litre container in preparation. Against my better judgement and contrary to how I felt physically after a full days’ riding, I set out for the Estancia Angusteria. Within 50 miles I had crashed severely.

Now on dirt tracks it’s a common technique to apply speed to even out the inconsistent surface. At slow speeds the bike becomes nervous, twitchy and more difficult to control – a condition that gets steadily worse from the feedback from an increasingly nervous rider as he / she grips the controls more tightly. This “application of speed” approach is good for 99 times out of 100, but of course, it’s the 1 time out of 100 that will bite you, and at 60 mph accidents will happen quickly and most likely hurt more.

Up to this point of the trip I had been really enjoying the dirt tracks and that afternoon I was travelling at about 50 to 60 mph. In reality this was about 10-20 mph too fast for the road conditions (coupled with my weary condition.) The track had deteriorated and I’d failed to reduce my speed. This particular stretch was comprised of fist-sized rocks that had accumulated into deep ruts by the heavy trucks that use this route.

I always find it interesting that accidents and crashes take an infinitesimally small amount of time for you to pass beyond the point of no return (otherwise you’d react and there would be no accident, right?). However, once you’re past that point everything slows down. My memory of what led up to the accident is therefore slight, I suspect that the front wheel tried to rise up out of the rut, probably following a wheel track from a previous vehicle that had changed lane. The back wheel probably declined to follow this example and stayed in the rut, the bike fish-tailed violently and I failed to correct it (even if I could). Minor fish-tailing happens all the time, and it’s part of the enjoyment of riding dirt-tracks that they usually come back, but I distinctly remember thinking “oh shit! This ones not coming back… the bike swapped sides a couple of times (known as a tank slapper as the bars are violently swapped from side to side). I was then unceremoniously spat off the top of the bike, over the bars, as the front wheel dug into the track and the bike flipped over frontward.

That’s where things really slowed down. Flying through the air I knew that at this speed, this would be a severe crash and things were about to get hurt. I also remember considering the fact that I could not afford to break anything (i.e. leg, arm or neck) as I was a long way from anywhere and this was not a busy road.

The initial impact was HARD!!! but I realized that I had survived it and I tucked everything in as best I could… far, so good. The next thing to enter my head, and I remember it vividly, was “well, the only thing that can kill me now is the bike landing on top of me!” So as I was still rolling I was looking back at the bike as it nosedived into the track, and skidded to a stop about 20 feet short of me.

There must be a common 10-second rule, as the first thing you want to do after an accident is leap straight to your feet. I’ve watched track racers try to stand up while they are still rolling at 20 mph (!) and I did the same. Patting myself down I could hardly believe that I was in one-piece. I had taken the initial impact on my shoulder and hip, both which were talking to me in protest, but everything else was fine. RELIEF!

Looking back down the road the same could not be said of the bike. I regret I did not have the presence of mind to take pictures (forgive me!) but I saw a sorry sight of the bike lying on the gravel with all the luggage spread down the trail for about 30 metres. Time to take off the gloves, the crash helmet, the back pack and the jacket and just take a moment or two – this was obviously going to take a little time to fix.

From an initial appraisal, the worst issue seemed to be the aluminium Touratech panniers. Both had been stripped from the bike and the left hand box had completely burst – what was left was a mangled mess. The left-hand side of the handle bars were bent down and the foot-peg bent under. The headlight had rattled loose in the fairing, the pannier frame was badly bent and was fouling the chain guard, the mirrors were stripped off and the left-hand indicator broken.

Slowly I began to reassemble the components. I pulled the handlebars back into shape by bracing my foot against the engine guard. Then, by grabbing several boulders from the side of the road to use as a hammer and anvil, I began to bash things back into some sort of shape – starting with the pannier frame. It took 2 exhausting hours before I was fit again to move. The left-hand pannier box was held together by tape and a strap. In that time, only 4 vehicles passed reminding me how lucky I had been not to be hurt myself.

I still had 50 miles to the Estancia that the Germans were so keen about, it would take me a further 2 hours to cover this distance and the road got much worse both with the failing light of dusk and my general feeling of depression following the crash.

I found the Estancia almost by luck, it was placed 10 miles off of the main road, signposted by a small, unlit sign. I was greeted warmly and enthusiastically and shown a modest room and told that if I wanted food, a cordeo (barbequed lamb) was just being served outside. I merely dumped my bags and followed him outside, still wearing my dusty riding gear. I found a small gathering of the family accompanied with 3 Argentine documentary makers, interviewing the rural locals about how the world has changed for them.

It was a charming meal – little understood by me as my Spanish is still not good enough, but I enjoyed the food, and shared the last of my malt whisky. It felt like a good way to finish the day. The film crew interviewed me and seemed interested how a lone Englishman on a motorcycle could have stumbled on this place.

I awoke incredibly stiffly. The shoulder and the hip screaming in recognition of what they had gone through the previous day. A couple of Ibuprofen and some strong, hot coffee saw me straight and I was back on the road (filmed as I left).

After I re-crossed the border with Chile, the next few days were spent in first Cochrane and then Cohyique. In the latter I found a local mechanic to re-shape the pannier boxes into approximate shape – and the results were remarkable. So back onto the Carratera Austral (the spindly dirt-track road built on the instructions of General Augustine Pinochet) and an observation that the Chileans take far better care of their dirt-roads than the Argentines. I stopped for the night at the luxurious fishing lodge at El Parque, just north of Purto Puriguapi, and a welcome evening of relaxation after a tough few days.

The next day would get me to Chaitèn, the stepping off point to the Isla Grande de Chiloè. To continue north, most tourists and travellers head back into Argentina and drive north from San Carlos de Bariloche. I, however, have always wanted to visit Chiloè so I was excited to leave the main tourist route. The ferry was to leave at 9am so dutifully I was sitting on the ferry embarkation slipway at 8.45am the following morning. I was seemingly the only person not to know that the ferry NEVER, EVER leaves on time. After 1 hour, news filtered that it would be 12 noon, at least, before the ferry arrived. Of more concern was the phase “well, if not 12 noon, it will definitely be today at least”. I decided to cut loose and ride out to the end of the road, some 40 miles away, at Caleta Gonzalo. The ride was pretty and the coffee from the café at the end of the road made the trip worthy. I later found out that this was part of Doug Tompkins (the US billionaire and philanthropist) vast nature reserve.

After racing back to catch the ferry perhaps predictably an empty slip-way welcomed me. I took encouragement from the fact that many locals were now attending – perhaps signifying promise. The ferry eventually arrived at 2pm, and as a consequence we arrived in Castro, the large port town in the middle of Chiloè, at 9.30pm. For a change, I was let off first (motorbikes are usually last) so I had a head start to finding a hotel (boy, the beer tasted GOOOOD!)

I’ve decided to get to Santiago quickly and to get the bike fixed up and better prepared for the challenge of the Atacama Desert and the altitude and isolation of Bolivia. I’m currently in Tecumo, about 400 miles south of Santiago and late yesterday afternoon, having found suitable replacements, I got the tyres replaced. Santiago is just 1 days ride from here and it’s smooth tarmac all the way. Perhaps, after the last few weeks of intensely rough tracks and the crash on Ruta 40 this is all the bike (and I) are fit for at the moment.

If you want to know more about Greg’s travels, visit his website at: http://www.unbeatentrack.com/

Kensington Palace stands at the western end of Kensington Gardens. It was originally a private country house called Nottingham House but was acquired in 1689 by William III and Mary II (1689) because the King’s asthma improved there during the winters. Sir Christopher Wren was engaged to design improvements to the house and the Clock Court and the South Front, including the 96-foot Long Gallery were added. After William III’s death in 1702, the palace became the residence of Queen Anne. Wren designed the Orangery for her and a 30-acre garden was laid out by Henry Wise. Further extensive alterations were carried out for George I and William Kent painted the elaborate trompe l’oeil ceilings and staircases. The last monarch to live at Kensington Palace was George II, whose consort, Caroline of Ansbach helped develop Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens and the Serpentine, Basin and Grand Vista and the Broad Walk were created for her. The sudden death of George II in 1760 marked the end of an era. Kensington Palace was never again to serve a reigning monarch.

Queen Victoria spent her childhood at Kensington Palace and it was here in June 1837 that she learned of her accession to the throne and moved to Buckingham Palace. The palace was most famously the London home of Diana, Princess of Wales and is still home to several other hanger-on members of the Royal Family.

Kensington Palace first opened to the public in 1912 with a display of relics and objects relating to the City of London. It attracted 13,000 visitors in just one day. The museum pieces now form part of the collection at the Museum of London. Visitors today can see the State Apartments, the Royal Ceremonial Dress Collection that includes outfits from the eighteenth-century to the present day, the Orangery and sunken gardens.

Kensington Palace opens daily. 10:00-17:00 (Nov-Feb) 10:00-18:00 (Mar-Oct). Closed 24-26 Dec. Tube: Queensway, Notting Hill Gate or High Street Kensington. Enquiries: 020 7937 9561. Entrance: Adults £10.80, Students and Snr Citizens £8.20, Child: £7.00 Under 5s: FREE.

We are sorry to say that Mac is not very well, but he is still e-mailing strong and recently sent the Beetle a collection of travel book reviews and things that caught his eye.

From Book Holidays In Hell by P. J. O Rourke. P. J. O Rourke is currently the White House correspondent from Rolling Stones magazine (l988.) Page ll: “There are worst pests than mainland Chinese taking Frigidaires home on the plane.”

Commodore Hotel in Beirut, Lebanon where correspondents hang out: “Get a room away from the pool. It’s harder to hit that side of the building with artillery. Rates are about fifty dollars a night. They’ll convert your bar bill to laundry charges if you’re on an expense account.”

Page 15: “The wise traveller will pack shirts or blouses with ample breast pockets. Reaching inside a jacket for your passport looks too much like going for the draw and puts armed men out of continence”

Page 16. “West Beirut can be toured on foot. — “There’s a lot of jewellery and make-up and the silliest Italian designer jeans on earth. They’re rushing from one place to another in order to sit around drinking hundreds of tiny cups of Turkish coffee and chat at the top of their lungs. The entire economy is fuelled so far as I can see by everyone selling cartons of smuggled Marlboros to each other.”

Page 17. “The Old American Embassy is here in the same state as U.S. Middle East policy.” On kidnapping – “If nabbed, make as much noise as possible (this is where the whistle I carry might come in handy.) Do not get in someone’s car. If forced in, attack the driver. At least that is what I am told.”

Page 23. “Welcome to Lebanon” said the Israeli captain. He read my credentials and smiled. “Tourism?” “Yes” I said, “I’m the only tourist in Lebanon.” The captain laughed. “Oh, no you’re not. I’m a reservist, you know, and this is my vacation too.”

Page 29. “My answer to everyone was that President Reagan wasn’t sure why he sent the Marines to Lebanon. However, he was determined to keep them here until he figured it out, but then he forgot.”

Page 35. “The Syrian army has dozens of silly hats, mostly berets in yellow, orange and shocking pink, but also tiny pillbox chapeaux, peaked officer’s caps and half a foot of gold braid up the front and lumpy Russian helmets, three sizes too large. The paratroopers wear shiny gold jumpsuits and crack commando units have skin-tight fatigues in a camouflage pattern of violet, peach, flesh tone and vermilion on a background of vivid purple (good camouflage Ha!)

On Korea, page 46: “I was overwhelmed by the amazing stink of kimchi, the garlic and hot pepper sauerkraut that’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner in Korea. Its odour rises —eyeglass fogging kimchi breath, throat searing kimchi burps and terrible pants-splitting kimchi Farts.”

And here is a guide to frequently used hotel terms (and their real meaning):

Guide to Hotel Terms

• All the amenities – free shower cap.
• Aristocratic – needs renovation.
• Gentle Breezes – gale-force winds.
• Picturesque – theme park or mystery house nearby.
• Carefree natives – terrible service.
• Bustling metropolis- thousands of hostile locals.
• Airy – no air conditioning.
• Brisk – freezing.
• Off the Beaten Path -people have stopped coming here.
• Remote- People never came.
• Standard – Substandard.
• Superior – free shower.
• Undiscovered -not worth discovering.
• Authentic native dishes- inedible but cheap.
• Playground of the stars – Regis Toomey once stayed here.
• If you like being pampered -you can get waited on.
• Exquisite cuisine – limited menu.

The European Commission is investigating Ryanair’s use of an airport in Tampere, Finland. It is believed that the investigation is under the rules covering aid to regional airports. Last year, Ryanair was ordered to pay €4m back to the Walloon government in Belgium after a Commission ruling found Ryanair had received illegal state aid at Charleroi airport. Ryanair has said that its arrangements with Tampere are ‘legal, open and pro-competition’ and will result in 350,000 international passengers at Tampere in the coming year and will generate 350 jobs in the region.

Ryanair, Europe’s No. 1 low fares airline welcomed the recent Holiday Which article, The No- Frills revolution, which highlights the growth of low fares in Europe pioneered by Ryanair. Peter Sherrard, Ryanair’s Head of Communications said: “If ever evidence was needed of consumer support for low fares airlines it was provided in August when Ryanair carried more passengers than British Airways’ worldwide traffic for the first time.

He said: passengers continue to desert high fare rip off airlines like British Airways in favour of Ryanair because:

1) They want to avoid British Airways’ rip off fuel surcharges of up to £60 while Ryanair guarantees no fuel surcharge ever.

2) They prefer Ryanair’s average fare of £27 compared to British Airways’ average fare of £181 – over 6 times greater.

3) At Ryanair their flights are on time while British Airways are frequently delayed.

4) With Ryanair they will not be stranded at Heathrow without accommodation or compensation like 100,000 of British Airways’ customers were in August.

“Millions of passengers compare Ryanair and British Airways on a daily basis and more passengers chose Ryanair because of Ryanair’s lower prices, better punctuality, better passenger service and guarantee of no fuel surcharge ever”.

July last year, a tired Ryanair pilot nose-dived his Boeing 737 at 6,000ft a minute – twice the recommended speed – after forgetting to descend from 30,000ft at the right time. The 38-year-old Australian captain, who had flown from London’s Stansted Airport with 184 passengers aboard, continued to descend rapidly despite repeated warnings from the first officer. Although he managed to bring the plane to a halt at Stockholm’s Skavsta Airport, the Swedish air traffic controllers reported him. This happened on the captain’s last day before leaving Ryanair. In a statement, he admitted stress and fatigue had caused him to become “deficient in logical thought”. Investigators, who described the incident as “serious”, said: “It was fortuitous the landing was carried out safely.”

We are sorry to say that Mac is not very well, but he is still e-mailing strong and recently sent the Beetle a collection of travel reminiscences about China.

Beijing, China. The Imperial Palace in the Forbidden City in Beijing has 9000 rooms.  We agreed that if we got lost and separated from each other we would meet in the Hall of Heavenly Purity (if they would let us in.)  At the time I was there, the military did not wear rank on their uniforms (don't know if this still applies or not.)  You could kind of get an idea of who outranked who by the number of pockets they had on their blouse of uniform.  Someone with four pockets would have their baggage carried by someone with one pocket or no pockets.

In the hotels the orchestras (In the Peace Hotel in Shanghai I think they had some of the members or orchestra from the 30s) would play songs they thought we would like.  Oh Susannah from a couple of decades ago seemed to be making a comeback, as well as Turkey in the Straw and and Auld Lang Syne.  At the end of each number the players would put down their instruments and applaud us in the audience.  We could hardly wait for the Tuba player to unwind from his Tuba to applaud us.

Our Chinese guide in Wushi kind of had a high opinion of himself (unusual for Chinese) and thought he was hip in Western ways.  He liked to show off and showed us how he was proficient in Tai Chai.  Blonde vivacious Liza asked him to dance with her.  He said that no he could not dance with a client but that he would arm wrestle her!  He told long involved stories about the Kingdom of Wu and Dragons and such. George whispered: “I wonder what he would say if we told him we didn't want to hear any more dragon stories?” 

In 1977 I got in on a deal on a trip to China.  A western cruise ship had not gone into China in twenty seven years but suddenly a Swiss outfit got permission and an ad was in the LA paper one day only and participants had a very short time to get on trip.  I had to fly to Singapore and get on Norwegian Rasa Sayang ship.  Why it did not leave from Hong Kong I don't know.  Everything about that trip was strange.  On board we were arranged into 24 groups of 24 people and in each group they arbitrarily chose a responsible person.  This was the person the Chinese dealt with to give us bad news to pass on to us others.  Your tour has been cancelled.  Unpaid thankless job.  Our Chinese guides had names that phonetically sounded like Mr Shi, Mr Ee and Miss Ou.  They met us at gangplank with Miss Ou carrying a banner with number 13 the number of our group.   24 buses were there to meet us.  It was like a military operation although we were all supposed to be civilians.  One Australian before we left ship asked if it was alright if he wore walking shorts.  He was told “You are going to look so strange to the Chinese that is makes no difference what you wear”.

Our guide Miss Ou had pigtails, glasses no makeup and wore a bag like Mao suit.  Most of our tour group dressed down, slacks etc but one lady in our group wore high heels and a different fancy outfit for each appearance as she said she wanted the Chinese to see her clothes and how they could dress.

There was no tipping but on the second day I gave Miss Ou some picture post cards of Washington, D. C.  She then gave me a ten minute speech that she would accept hers as a signal of international friendship.  I then became her pet and she would come to me on pronunciation of English.  I, who have a speech defect, ha!

At the Pan His Restaurant No 15l Hsiang Yang Rd (Kissinger ate there,) Canton, where we ate one meal, Miss Ou would tell us what was in each dish.  Duck, shrimp, vegetable and other materials. When she saw some smile at “other materials” she looked to me and I said other ingredients.

Wherever we went there would be Chinese on each side of sidewalk waiting for us to come out of antique stores, whatever and they would applaud us.  I thought it was voluntary but was told that they had probably been ordered to do this and perhaps had been there since five o clock that morning waiting for us to arrive although they probably had no idea who we were or where we were from.  I felt like Prince Philip viewing China and found myself walking with my arms behind my back.  I bowed graciously to my fans.  They have gotten so many tourists now that they no longer applaud us.

On my first trip to China they said that five of each 24 group of 24 could witness acupuncture which was new to me so I raised my hand.  Most of us did not realize that this demonstration of acupuncture included watching five bloody operations in a hospital where they used acupuncture as an anaesthetic.  One lady passed out immediately and they put one of the needles between her mouth and nose and she came right to.  We were in a viewing area that looked down on the operating tables.  One operation was to remove a goitre from an elderly lady.  After they removed the goitre the size of a golf ball they passed it up to us on a tray much as if they were passing around something to eat at a cocktail party.  After the fourth operation I felt woozy myself and so left room and climbed stairs to roof of hospital.  Attendants came running after me.  There was a church with a steeple nearby and I tried to act like I had just gone up there for the view and to see China as I wasn't seeing much of China in that operating room.  I pointed to the church spire and said what is that building? I was told “It is where they store useless objects (religious statues, religious things).  Just wait until I tell Father Murphy!

We were told that acupuncture did not work as anaesthetic unless you had faith in it. The advantage is that there were supposedly no after effects and one could eat after the operation. In fact before the operation which I don't think is usual practice. When the tumour was removed from the neck of the elderly lady, they wanted to show us that she could navigate on her own. She kind of slid off table looked up at us and waved and we waved back. She then kind of stumbled out of the room.

Would I submit to acupuncture in an operation? Only if I could have an anaesthetic as well.

I did later on another trip submit to this form a barefoot doctor. They call them barefoot doctor (not barefoot) but those that work helping those in communes and field. I paid something like fifteen cents. It was to cure a cold. They then gave me a certificate entitling me to free acupuncture care for a year.

British Airways whose tagline has been 'the world's favourite airline' has been overtaken by our friends Ryanair whom it has been recorded carried more passengers in August 2005 than the whole of BA.  This could have something to do with the Gate Gourmet catering fiasco/strike and increasing competition.  Ryanair's latest monthly figures for August show that BA carried 156,000 fewer passengers than the Irish airline which saw numbers soar by 27% to 3.257m.  As usual, Ryanair's Chief Executive had something to say: 'It's official. Ryanair has today become the world's favourite airline.  Last month, Ryanair's traffic exceeded BA's worldwide passengers across its entire network.'

Whilst the Beetle does not believe that just because Ryanair's figures exceed British Airways' Ryanair can take over British Airway's mantle of being the world's favourite airline.  This seems a little excessive given that Ryanair does not fly long haul, nor has anything like BA's coverage, provides next to no in-flight service and benefited in passenger volume particularly as a result of BA's strike fiasco during the month of August.  Ryanair's success was put down to growing passenger volumes due to Ryanair's guarantee of no fuel surcharges.  And not forgetting that Michael O'Leary likes to have the last word, he went on to say: 'At least on Ryanair, customers can buy a sandwich with the £100 they have saved over BA's high fares and that's why BA are now officially just second choice'.

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51 holiday makers, mostly Belgians but including five Britons and fifteen Germans, were told that their flight from Carcassone to Charleroi airport, Brussels airport had been cancelled due to bad weather and would not be replaced.  They were forced to hire a bus and drive 600 miles home after they were told that the next aircraft out of Carcassone would be in 10 days time.  The 51 passengers led by a Belgian window cleaner, clubbed together to rent a vehicle for €4,000 (£2,700) to drive home to Charleroi in Belgium. “They abandoned us there as if we were dogs,” said Gauthier Renders, the 28-year-old window cleaner from Brussels. “There were children there and even an old woman with a walking stick. They didn't even give us a glass of water.” He continued: “At the Ryanair desk they said there were no available flights for ten days. Everything was fully booked. They said that some of us could get home via Gerona in Spain but that was 200 miles away and there were only 15 places available.   They also said they wouldn't pay for us to get there. So I looked for a bus in the Yellow Pages and we were on the road by 9pm.” The bus company provided two drivers and after a 16-hour drive the coach arrived in Belgium, on Tuesday.

“That's a long trip and everyone was pretty frustrated when we got there. Ryanair said they would refund our return flight – half the price of the original ticket – but said that it would take three weeks for the money to arrive,” Mr Renders said. “They don't care about the bad publicity; they know they are a cheap airline and that people will use them again just because they are cheap. But not me: my wife and I will never fly Ryanair again.”

Countries with the Most Billionaires

Source: http://www.aneki.com/billionaires.html

Meeting news from around the world.

September 2005 London meeting.  Globies kicked off the new
season at our temporary venue The Concert Artists Association on
the other side of Covent Garden.  Jules Stewart
started the season with his talk on the Northwest frontier area
of Pakistan. He told us about the history of the area, which
still has a large tribal element.  Jules showed us the
Khyber Pass and explained the arrangements needed to explore the
pass, including getting a permit and a man with a gun to
accompany him up to the arch. (The Beetle also did this, same
thing: man and a gun.)  We saw the monument to allied forces
killed defending the pass.  We also saw the city of Peshawar
(a city Padmassana remembers only for the ceiling of the hotel
thanks to some dodgy food!) it was good to see what the city has
to offer visitors.  Thanks to Jules for an interesting talk.

After the break, Juliet Coombe took us to post tsunami Sri
Lanka, after a few shots of the usual tourist places she showed
us the aftermath of the devastation.  After seeing the
events unfold Juliet felt moved to do more than be an observer,
so flew out with her rudimentary first aid training to help in
any way she could.  She helped doctors clean wounds and we
also saw difficult images of bodies being recovered.  Later
she became involved in helping the children, first by having
paper and pens sent over from Australia and later letting them
use disposable cameras to help them understand and come to terms
with their loss.  The train swept away at Galle is
remembered by everyone in the west, the children were fearful of
getting back on a train, but with Juliet’s camera’s they
overcame their fears and boarded a train again. 
Globetrotters had a collection which raised £104 for her Perailya.com
charity.

Next month’s London meeting will be held on Saturday 1st
October.

Venue Change

Unfortunately, the building works at the Church of Scotland are
continuing and we are on the move again this month, this time to
a new venue near Holborn. We hope to be back to the normal venue
for the November meeting, builders permitting.

The October meeting will be held at Covent Garden Dragon
Hall, 17 Stukeley Street, London WC2B 5LT at 2.30pm
Website and map: www.dragonhall.org.uk

Neil Taylor will be talking about “Estonia,
Tallinn and the Baltic Capitals.” Neil is a Bradt author,
recognised for opening up the communist world to tourism and
regular traveller to Estonia. See:
www.bradtguides.com and Stevie Smith will be
talking about “Peddling to Hawaii” – a human powered
adventure across the Western Hemisphere.  Picture a
frustrated office worker of twenty-five.  He resolves to
grab life with both hands and embark on a thrilling adventure: to
go around the world by human power.  With no prior
experience and no money, Stevie and his friend Jason managed to
cycle down through Europe, cross the Atlantic Ocean in 111 days
in a purpose-built pedal boat, cycle and skate across the USA and
pedal over the Pacific to Hawaii. Pedalling to Hawaii is
hilarious and refreshingly non-heroic, packed with thrills and
spills. It is also an inspiring account of a search for
simplicity and freedom.  Stevie Smith is continuing with the
expedition. Discovery Networks Europe have broadcast three
documentaries about the journey .

London meetings are held at The Church of Scotland, Crown
Court, behind the Fortune Theatre in Covent Garden
at 2.30 pm on the first Saturday of each month.
There is no London meeting in August, but we will
be back in September. For more information, you can contact the
Globetrotters Info line on +44 (0) 20 8674 6229, or visit the
website: www.globetrotters.co.uk
 Admission Members £2.50 Non-members £5