Category Archives: Main article

Meeting News from Texas

The Texas branch has both good news and bad news. The bad news is the cancellation of the April meeting on the 10th. The good news is the speaker for the May 8 meeting has been confirmed.

The Texas branch meets at the New Braunfels Public Library every second Saturday of the month at 2 p.m. There is no charge for the wonderful meeting room and all a/v equipment is provided. The location is convenient for Globetrotters Club members and all travellers in south central Texas. The room is being used by AARP to help folks do their taxes on April 10. So, no meeting.

We have our room back on May 8, with an exciting presentation: we will be hearing about Servas, a wonderful program for travellers who care about World Peace. If you like to travel and care about World Peace, this is a must attend event. Wayne Thomas will be the speaker. I guarantee you life will be enhanced after meeting him.

So, no meeting in April and an exciting one in May. See you then.

For more information about the Texas Branch: please contact texas@globetrotters.co.uk or register for email updates at our website (click here) or call Christina at 830-620-5482

If anybody would like to enquire about meetings or help Christina, please contact her on: texas@globetrotters.co.uk

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Bilharziasis, Snail fever, Schistosomiasis

What is it:Schistosomiasis, also called bilharzia (bill-HAR-zi-a), is a disease caused by parasitic worms. They currently infect over 200m people each year, and the number of people infected increases.

Where am I most likely to catch Bilharzia? Africa: Southern Africa, Sub-Saharan Africa, Lake Malawi, the Nile River valley in Egypt, Latin America: Brazil, Suriname, Venezuela, Antigua, Dominican Republic, Guadeloupe, Caribbean: Martinique, Montserrat, Puerto Rico, Saint Lucia (risk is low), Middle East: Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Syrian Arab Republic, Yemen, Southern China, Southeast Asia: Philippines, Laos, Cambodia, Japan, central Indonesia, and the Mekong delta.

How do I get it: by paddling, swimming, washing or drinking fresh water. Fresh water becomes contaminated by Schistosoma eggs when infected people urinate or defecate in the water. The eggs hatch, and if certain types of snails are present in the water, the parasites grow and develop inside the snails. The parasite leaves the snail and enters the water where it can survive for about 48 hours. The schistosoma parasites can penetrate the skin of persons who have contact with the water.

What happens next: within several weeks, worms grow inside the blood vessels of the body and produce eggs. Some of these eggs travel to the bladder or intestines and are passed into the urine or stool.

What are the symptoms: symptoms of schistosomiasis are caused by the body’s reaction to the eggs produced by worms, not by the worms themselves. Within days after becoming infected, you may develop a rash or itchy skin. Fever, chills, cough, and muscle aches can begin within 1-2 months of infection. Most people have no symptoms at this early phase of infection.

How do I cure it: your doctor will ask you to provide stool or urine samples to see if you have the parasite. A blood test has been developed and is available but for accurate results, you must wait 6-8 weeks after your last exposure to contaminated water before the blood sample is taken. Safe and effective drugs are available for the treatment of schistosomiasis. You will be given pills to take for 1-2 days.

How can I prevent getting Bilharzia:

  • Don’t swim in infected water
  • For washing or bathing, use water that has been heated to 50oC or more for at least 5 minutes or water chemical disinfected.

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Write for the Globetrotters monthly e-newsletter

If you enjoy writing, enjoy travelling, why not write for the free monthly Globetrotters e-newsletter! The Beetle would love to hear from you: your travel stories, anecdotes, jokes, questions, hints and tips, or your hometown or somewhere of special interest to you. Over 8,000 people currently subscribe to the Globetrotters e-news.

To see your story in cyber print, e-mail the Beetle with your travel experiences, hints and tips or questions up to 750 words, together with a couple of sentences about yourself and a contact e-mail address to Beetle@globetrotters.co.uk

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Traveller’s Thrombosis

A recent New Zealand study of almost 900 passengers has shown that up to one in 100 long-haul fliers could develop blood clots, and wearing compression stockings, taking aspirin and travelling business class may not help.

The press release says: “New Zealand researchers tested almost 900 passengers who took long-haul flights over a six-week period. The subjects travelled for at least 10 hours and each flew an average of 39 hours. They discovered nine cases, four of pulmonary embolism and five of deep vein thrombosis (DVT), which involves the formation of blood clots which can cause death if they invade the lungs or brain.

Seventeen percent of the passengers in the study by the Medical Research Institute of New Zealand wore compression stockings to aid circulation. Thirty-one percent took aspirin to thin the blood and reduce the risk of thrombosis”. The conclusion is that all air travellers are at risk and not just those in economy class. The team carrying out the research even suggested renaming ‘economy class syndrome’ to ‘traveller’s thrombosis.’

During recent court action, victims have blamed cramped aircraft cabins for their blood clots and argued that airlines have known of the risks for years but failed to warn people. A British court recently agreed with the airlines, which claimed that DVT was not an accident under the 1929 Warsaw Convention that governs international air travel.

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A Hiking Guide to Easter Island by David Stanley

Ask me which Pacific island has the most to offer hikers and I’ll probably answer Easter Island. Here on an island 11 km wide and 23 km long you’ll find nearly a thousand ancient Polynesian statues strewn along a powerfully beautiful coastline or littering the slopes of an extinct volcano. Getting there is easy as Easter Island can be included in Oneworld’s round-the-world Explorer airpass, and a fine selection of inexpensive places to stay and eat awaits you.

The legends of Easter Island have been recounted many times. What’s less known is that the island’s assorted wonders are easily accessible on foot from the comfort of the only settlement, Hanga Roa. Before setting out see the sights, however, visit the excellent archaeological museum next to Ahu Tahai on the north side of town (the term “ahu” refers to an ancient stone platform). Aside from the exhibits, the museum has maps which can help you plan your trip.

The razon-backed ridge on the ocean side of Rano Kau crater.The first morning after arrival, I suggest you climb Easter Island’s most spectacular volcano, Rano Kau, where Orongo, a major archaeological site, sits on the crater’s rim. But rather than marching straight up the main road to the crater, look for the unmarked shortcut trail off a driveway to the right just past the forestry station south of town. It takes under two hours to cover the six km from Hanga Roa to Orongo, but bring along a picnic lunch and make a day of it. (If climbing a 316-meter hill sounds daunting, you can take a taxi to the summit for around US$6 and easily walk back later in the day.) Once on top, you’ll find hiking down into the colourful crater presents no difficulty. It may also look easy to go right around the crater rim, but only do so if you’re a very experienced hiker and have a companion along as shear 250-meter cliffs drop into the sea from the ridge.

Another day, rise early and take a taxi to lovely Anakena Beach at the end of the paved road on the north side of the island (you should pay under US$10 for the 20 km). A few of the famous Easter Island statues have been restored at Anakena and you could go for a swim, although the main reason you’ve come is the chance to trek back to Hanga Roa around the road-free northwest corner of the island. You’ll pass numerous abandoned statues lying facedown where they fell, and the only living creatures you’re unlikely to encounter are the small brown hawks which will watch you intently from perches on nearby rocks. If you keep moving, you’ll arrive back in town in five or six hours (but take adequate food, water, and sunscreen). This is probably the finest coastal walk in the South Pacific.Anakena Beach, starting point for the northwest coastal hike.

Almost as good is the hike along the south coast, although you’re bound to run into other tourists here as a paved highway follows the shore. Begin early and catch a taxi to Rano Raraku, the stone quarry where all of the island’s statues were born. This is easily the island’s most spectacular sight with 397 statues in various stages of completion lying scattered around the crater. And each day large tour groups come to Rano Raraku to sightsee and have lunch. However, if you arrive before 9 am, you’ll have the site to yourself for a few hours. When you see the first tour buses headed your way, hike down to Ahu Tongariki on the coast, where 15 massive statues were re-erected in 1994. From here, just start walking back toward Hanga Roa (20 km) along the south coast. You’ll pass many fallen statues and enjoy some superb scenery. Whenever you get tired, simply go up onto the highway and stick out your thumb and you’ll be back in town in a jiffy.

An outstanding 13-km walk begins at the museum and follows the west coast five km north to Ahu Tepeu. As elsewhere, keep your eyes pealed for banana trees growing out of the barren rocks as these often indicate caves you can explore. Inland from Ahu Tepeu is one of the island’s most photographed sites, Ahu Akivi, with seven statues restored in 1960. From here an interior farm road runs straight back to town (study the maps at the museum carefully, as you’ll go far out of your way if you choose the wrong road here).

A shorter hike takes you up Puna Pau, a smaller crater which provided stone for the red topknots that originally crowned the island’s statues. There’s a great view of Hanga Roa from the three crosses on an adjacent hill and you can easily do it all in half a day. A different walk takes you right around the 3,353- meter airport runway, which crosses the island just south of town. Near the east end of the runway is Ahu Vinapu with perfectly fitted monolithic stonework bearing an uncanny resemblance to similar constructions in Peru.

A fallen statue on Easter Island's south coast.Easter Island’s moderate climate and scant vegetation make for easy cross country hiking, and you won’t find yourself blocked by fences and private property signs very often. You could also tour the island by mountain bike, available from several locations at US$10 a day. If you surf or scuba dive, there are many opportunities here. A minimum of five days are needed to see the main sights of Easter Island, and two weeks would be far better. The variety of things to see and do will surprise you, and you’ll be blessed with some unforgettable memories.

David Stanley is the author of Moon Handbooks Tahiti: Including the Cook Islands http://www.southpacific.org/tahiti.html which also contains a full chapter on Easter Island. His online guide to Easter Island may be perused at http://www.southpacific.org/text/finding_easter.html

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Serengeti Safari by Jennifer, NYC

I decided to go on a safari in Africa – not so unusual. However, all of the travel information I was able to dig up in preparation for this life experience talked about the game drives during the day and the typical you’ll see this many giraffes, this many zebra, this many lion, etc. I was not able to find information on what it was like being out there in your tent in the middle of the night. But I went anyway – not knowing. As it turns out that was my favourite part of the trip.

It’s October, we arrive in Tanzania and eventually make it to our camp deep in the Serengeti – Kusini Camp run by Fred and Carol, who are two of the coolest people my husband and I have ever met. We go out for some game viewing which is great fun, as expected. Evening starts to roll around, we have a great dinner, and then relax by the fire. As we are sitting around the fire listening to Fred’s crazy hunting stories we hear a slight noise to our right. As we look over, the Masai tribesman, who is monitoring the perimeter of the camp for wild animals shines a light on the stone bird bath not but 10 feet away. There is an enormous Cape Buffalo drinking from the birdbath. A magnificent sight up so close. This is when I knew that night time was going to be the best.

Shortly after, the Masai tribesman with rifle in hand, escorts my husband and I back to our tent – fully equipped with a small walkie talkie in case of an emergency. As we settle down for sleep we notice the unbelievably unique quiet surrounding us. It’s deafening quiet, however amongst the quiet you can hear the sounds of Africa. I can’t stand it anymore. I jump up, grab the spotlight provided, and start to survey the land around us through the thin mesh windows of the tent that separate us from them. Under the magnificent light of the stars in the black sky I am able to see an elephant slowly moving toward our tent. He arrives in only a minute or two to graze on the grass surrounding our temporary canvas residence. He is loud when he eats and a bit clumsy fooling around in the bush. But graceful and so close I could smell his dank leathery breath. I know he could charge at any minute if I went out and got in his way, but I feel safe inside and am able to watch him from only a few small feet away.

Later, I wake up to what I consider a roar, and it wasn’t my husband! This immediately provokes me to get out the spotlight again. This time I cannot see anything, not even a set of yellow eyes, but I can hear the roar from time to time. You just know he’s there. I set up shop by the opening to my tent waiting for him to emerge. I slept right there on the wooden floor but never saw him. In any case, this was surreal enough.

The next night I could barely wait to head back to the tents. This time I was ready and wanted the entire wild kingdom at my doorstep. While I lay there I could hear a lion again. I think he came back – maybe he liked it there as much as I did. I kept listening until I finally fell asleep. Fred was able to confirm my suspicions in the morning – there were lions in our camp.

We headed on the 4th day to a different camp in the Western part of the Serengeti – Kira Wira camp on the Grumeti River. During the night at Kira Wira I was also able to feel the excitement of being out in the wilderness. Again I awaken halfway into the night. This time to watch a hippo casually stroll by our tent and then head over to my Aunt’s tent nearby. The big fellow sauntered through the bush. I couldn’t believe it – up until this point I had only seen their heads in the water.

In the morning our Kira Wira friend came to wake us up with our usual coffee and tea just at sunrise. As he began to leave our porch he was confronted by a small herd of about 10 Cape Buffalo that came to graze by our tent or try to stay safe from the lion and lioness that may start to get hungry again. We were able to watch these buffalo in the faint morning light. They were only a few feet away looking falsely harmless and eating their breakfast.

Our last night we began our tent ritual by sitting on the bed with all of the tent windows zipped open looking out at the darkness. A large bat landed on the meshy “front door”. As it hung out there we watched its quick tiny movements. All of a sudden a long very furry blob leapt up on the door and grabbed the bat, whisking it away into the night. It all happened so fast we are still not sure what kind of 3 foot Civet or Janet it was that had been lurking nearby but it was an amazing close to our last eerie evening.

While the game drives were awe-inspiring across Tanzania, as I am sure they are all over Africa, I have to say that by far the most exciting part of the trip was not knowing what kind of visitor I would have each night and how close they would venture to mingle with this crazy New Yorker.

Kusini Camp info:

P.O. Box 427, Arusha, Tanzania

tel: +255 27 2502143

fax: +255 27 2508273

kmkjmz@optonline.net

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Knysna by Kevin Brackley

The town of Knysna in the western Cape of South Africa lies a scenic 500km east of Cape Town along the Garden Route. There is the option to drive all the way into town, but a far more interesting way is to take the Outeniqua choo-Tjoe train that departs from George. If you are lucky your train will be pulled by a steam engine. Once you have left George’s shanty towns behind the scenery is wonderful, sweeping curves where if you peer out of the window you can see the engine going round the bend ahead. At Sedgefield the line passes over a scenic bridge, under which flows an inlet from the Indian Ocean on your right. The train takes a couple of hours and costs approximately 120 rand.

Knysna itself has much to offer including trips into the surrounding countryside where you can hike, abseil and go mountain biking amongst others. At the waterfront area there are lots of touristy shops and restaurants to while away some time. From a jetty at the waterfront it is well worth taking a trip out to the Knysna Heads. Knysna itself is in a lagoon protected from the ocean by a narrow inlet where the surrounding hills almost meet. The trip out is on one of the worlds most advanced ferries, even though it does have the appearance of a bathtub!

The boat actually has three legs that can be put down on the sea floor so that it is lifted up like an oil platform. This can be used in rescues and also to drop passengers off at places where there is no jetty. The “Heads” are a raging torrent even on a semi calm day, they have claimed hundreds of ships and thousands of lives over the centuries, so much so that if you intend to take a vessel through them you have to inform the shipping insurers Lloyds of London. The boat staff keep up an interesting flow of information as you cruise, not only about their very interesting boat, but also about the nearby nature reserve and about what you are seeing.

After all this activity it is hard to beat a meal at “Bosuns” a pub come restaurant, which does excellent bar and sit down food for around 80 Rand, including a drink.

East of Knysna is the Tsitsikama National Park, which is located right next to the ocean. From the beach you can follow a lovely boardwalk through the forest called the “Mouth Trail”, which eventually comes out at the spectacular Hangbrug suspension bridge, from where you can gaze onto the crashing Indian Ocean waves. On the way back to town you can take in the adrenaline junkies Mecca of the Bloukrans bungy jump, this is currently the world’s highest bungy with a drop of 216 metres, reputed to be the longest seven seconds of your life as you free fall, are there any Globies out there who can confirm this, as this one has no intention of finding out!

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Boxing Day Sports Festival in Mikindani by Matt Maddocks

Having been nothing but impressed with the way the Mikindani Sports Club or ‘Klabu ya Uboreshaji’ (the club’s Swahili name which means improving oneself through sports) was been run, I wanted to reward the club’s members along with others in the village with a day of competitions. Thanks to the efforts of those volunteers with me and several willing helpers on the day, the 26th December brought memories to a vast number of people, both spectators and competitors alike. We held a sports day which included a Bao competition and a football six-a-side taking place on the football ground on Mikindani’s biggest football team.

Bao is a traditional Swahili board game played on a board on which seeds are moved around a series of carved out dishes, the object of the game being to take your opponents seeds achieved by finishing moves adjacent to an opponents seed. Without explaining the ins and outs of the game a skilful play is made through experience, strategic play and being able to think moves ahead of the game which may be compared to chess or draughts. In Mikindani the older generation of males are the most respected group of players so we invited three players from each of the village wards to join up for a knock-out style competition. Proceedings took place under a mango tree and organisation took care of itself as there was a competitive but friendly atmosphere and players were self-affiliating and all joined together, rather enjoying playing along side the best players in the village. As the rounds went by, large crowds were drawn in and the final was quite a spectacle with two players surrounded by a sea of onlookers, both competing for the prize money placed underneath the playing board. The champion was delighted with his title but all players were very humble and delighted with how the competition took place.

While the Bao players ate complementary lunch, final preparations were being made to the football pitches which were small with full sized goals promising lots of scoring and the eight teams (made up from two sides from each of Mikindani’s four football teams) were warming up and stretching off. Matches commenced and those who were not players gathered on the sidelines with large numbers of spectators to watch who was on form and for any nominations for the man of the tournament who would receive some golden football boots! Games were fast and furious as any decent six-a-side should be but again collectiveness and good spirit between teams was evident throughout.

The crowds cheered as we were treated to some dazzling touches and outstanding play from all teams but the final was eventually contended (after both semi-finals going to penalties, the hero goalkeepers held above heads by the rest of the team and a few passionate supporters!) between Cigara F.C and Beach Boys who we were told were the equivalent to ‘Arsenal and Manchester United’; long standing rivals keen to get one up on the other. In a closely fought final Beach Boys won by a single goal and their followers ran on the pitch to congratulate their team just as though they were professional sports men. A presentation ended the day’s proceedings and a team photo of the 2003 winners.

Later that day and the next, several comments from teams and supporters gave their thanks for the day. I was told by some it was ‘the best public holiday ever’, ‘never to be beaten’ and ‘the village was awoken with delight and happiness’. These are exactly the feelings I hoped to bring about and numerous groups in Mikindani were fulfilled, old men, young footballers and families of supporters all had a brilliant day.

For more information about Trade Aid, volunteers and their work, please visit their website: www.mikindani.com

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Travel Stats: Largest No of Airports per Country

World airpports top 10

Rank Country Name Airports
1 United States 14,720
2 Brazil 3,264
3 Russia 2,743
4 Mexico 1,848
5 Canada 1,417
6 Argentina 1,359
7 Bolivia 1,093
8 Colombia 1,091
9 Paraguay 915
10 South Africa 741

Source:

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Mac’s Jottings: Languages

U. S. Soldiers Home, Washington: during a century of travel (well 78 years!) both in and out of service I have travelled to over 150 countries (I count both North and South Dakota as countries) and for some reason have jotted signs and happenings that I thought funny at the time (and now wonder why). So here is the perfect opportunity to share some of my anecdotes.

I admire those that speak many languages. I don’t. This reminds me of the guy that spread out the blanket for his girl friend and noticing the wet grass said: “some dew”. She replied “I don’t”.

The Japanese are very polite. You can be murdering their language and they will say: “You speak very good Japanese”. You then know you don’t. The French sneer at me if I don’t get the pronunciation right. I would try out a few words of French and would get the sneer.

In India and the Philippines because there are so many languages their leaders sometimes give their speeches in English. This surprised me but I was told they reach more people that way. In Mexico, I don’t speak much Spanish, but I am a very good guesser. I have a booklet that has pictures in it of different objects and no matter what country I am in when I want something I point to the picture. I am a good pointer.

I envy those that speak French as it sounds so sophisticated to me. My French is limited to: “Come and tie my shoe”, “Mow de lawn”, “Chevrolet coupe”. I was asked to leave France. I met some French people individually on a one to one basis having been introduced by someone and even was invited to a French couples’ home (both were school teachers.) They had a copy of newspaper printed the day after D Day when the Germans were printing the paper and gave me a copy, interpreting it for me. It said such things as The Terrorists (allies) have arrived but they will be pushed back. I had copies made and gave one copy to French embassy here.

While we Americans don’t speak very many languages, at the same time I think American are a friendly lot and are apt to invite foreigners into their homes or help foreigners on the street. I also lived in a French couple’s home right after the War. It is a long story but they were very hospitable to me. This was in Biarritz, France and the townspeople did not like us. We thought Hitler was going to go down to Spain to meet Franco and go thorough a train station in Biarritz. Our airplanes were meant to hit the train station but travelling so fast they bombed a path from the ocean right though the town.

On the other hand when the Germans occupied Biarritz they had the elite of their troops there and the French told us so they were so neat when they went to the beach lining their equipment up nice etc.

Next month, Mac discusses his 1990’s travel trip to Malaysia, Singapore, India, and on komodo dragons .

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

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An Ascent (Finally) of Stok Kangri by Jules Stewart

With a shuddering sob Helen collapsed on the ridge and burst into tears.“I cannot take another step,” she sobbed. “Oh, I know it’s all vanity and pride!”

She was referring to the summit, looming in full infuriating view an hour’s slog above us. “You go on,” she said with quivering lip, “I’ll wait for you here”.

“Forget it, I’m not going up without you and frankly I’m not that bothered about the summit. And for goodness sake stop crying. You’ll need that energy for the descent”.

So that drew a line under our climb of Stok Kangri in Ladakh, surely one of the Himalayas most accessible 20,000 foot peaks. The error that day was to have taken the summit head on across the moraine from our advanced base camp, which was set up on the wrong side of the glacier. Had we crossed the glacier and pitched our tent on a platform below the start of the climb, and then headed off diagonally left across the moraine towards the ridge… who knows?

It doesn’t matter: I repeated the mantra to myself on the silent trek back to base camp and down the trail to Stok village at the road head, the last stop before picking up the jeep to Leh. Success, failure – every mountaineer knows these are mere words, devoid of significance. The summit is a trap cunningly laid by our ego, designed to keep us bound to the wheel of samsara.

What’s that, you failed to summit Stok Kangri? There it is, the very word of shame and humiliation, enslaving us to our egos. It’s all rubbish, of course, we reassure ourselves. What really matters is the camaraderie, the days spent with good companions in the inspiring environment of the high mountains. The summit is a bit of icing on the cake. It adds nothing to the experience apart from a false sense of prestige, derived from the Latin praestagium, meaning illusion. The summit, in fact, is a mere illusion.

Oh yes.

So it was that the following August found us starting off once more from advanced base, this time camp properly sited on the far side of the glacier, plodding manfully across the moraine straight towards the summit ridge.

Two hours into the climb and “Oh, God,” Helen moaned, collapsing once more on the ridge, in fact the very same spot as the previous year. “It’s such a long way…”

Not again, I thought with inner rage, an eye fixed on the beckoning summit.

“All right, have a little rest. Have a drink of water, catch your breath, count to ten – but we’ve got to carry on because the weather is looking pretty naff.” Bands of mist rolled up from the valley, intermittently obscuring the snow-capped summit. It was obvious we would have to move smartly if we were to enjoy any view at all from the top. Helen began rummaging in her day sack and what happened next left me gaping in stunned disbelief.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing with that?” “It’s all right,” she smiled. “It’ll boost my morale”. But – lipstick! We’re nearly twenty thousand feet up in the Himalayas and you… “There we are.” She zipped up her sack, smacking her brightly rouged lips. “Let’s go.”.

Helen is six feet tall and she is maddeningly unaffected by altitude. Once suitably made-up off she marched at a sprightly quip, unheeding of my protests about the importance of keeping a slow and steady pace. We negotiated the handful of slightly exposed spots on the ridge and three and a half hours after leaving out tents we found ourselves on the top of Stok Kangri, with just enough sunlight left for a couple of snapshots of K-2 on the horizon, before the mist billowed over the summit.

Jules Stewart is leading a Ladakh trek and ascent of Stok Kangri on 17th-31st July 2004. Details are available on 0207 2294774 or e-mail: Jjulesstewart@aol.com

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Our Friends Ryanair

Ryanair has carried out its threat to scrap services between London and Brussels’ Charleroi airport, in an escalation of its battle with the European commission over illegal state aid from the Belgian authorities. In its summer schedule, it was revealed that its eight daily flights between the two cities would end on April 29. Ryanair blamed the EC’s ruling this month that the airline’s landing deal at Charleroi was illegal. Rivals say that the route may have been hit by competition from rival airlines and Eurostar.

Ryanair has banned eight passengers for life for compromising passenger and crew safety by smoking on board. The eight people were on different flights, and all cases have been referred to police.

Never let it be said that we are always horrible about Ryanair. Here’s a website where you can see some positive comments about our friend: http://www.ciao.co.uk/ryanair_com__77254 This website allows you to enter your views, pros and cons about using Ryanair. All three of the pros that the Beetle saw when she looked at it were to do with price – it’s cheap, the cons say impractical deals, no meals on board and a slow website.

For the sake of balance, here’s another website where you can record your own Ryanair misery story: Stories include luggage not being on the same flight as the passenger and all the hassle involved in getting some sort of recompense from Ryanair, money taken without confirmation and comments about the way Ryanair operate – little things, like using premium rate telephone numbers if you want to contact them and lack of e-mail address. It’s sober reading.

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Mac’s Jottings: Malaysia

U. S. Soldiers Home, Washington: during a century of travel (well 78 years!) both in and out of service I have travelled to over 150 countries (I count both North and South Dakota as countries) and for some reason have jotted signs and happenings that I thought funny at the time (and now wonder why). So here is the perfect opportunity to share some of my anecdotes.

Sophisticated traveller that I am, I almost panicked here at the Malaysian border coming from Thailand. The night before on the train a man collected our passports for processing and gave us no receipt. Mine was not at the Malaysian border. I ran from Thai border officials to Malaysian and neither had it. Finally one of them found it. Later a Malaysian official came on the train to “visit” with me. I think the many visas in my passport made me suspect.

In Kota Tingu, Malaysia, I asked a seamstress if she could make me a secret designed undershirt with a secret pocket (no secret anymore) to hide valuables. I asked her when it would be finished and when I should pick it up. I thought she said “Today, three o clock”. When I returned at three I discovered she had said. Two days, three O Clock. In two days I was in another country. In India I had a pocket made in my shorts (also a secret pocket and again no secret) I sometimes wear athletic soccer shorts. They have a pocket in them that has a shield to protect your private parts. I put a plastic bag with money in this pocket. I feel that if a robber got down to looking in my shorts that I would be lost anyway. I also carry valuables in many different places so as to not be carrying all my eggs in one pocket.

Johure Bahru: a sign “Wet Market”. Wet market means they hose down the floor in the market where they have fish.

In my travels I have often met individuals that have been travelling for years. Sometimes taking a job teaching English or some part time job for a while and then moving on. I met a Swedish man (these individuals are usually from Australia) that had spent some time in Malaysia. He had brought one hundred video games and was on his way to Kula Lumpur to catch a Russian Airline Aeroflot plane to Sweden (he says is lousy: the airline not Sweden.)

He pointed out to me in the station some transvestites – Malaysian men dressed as women. He said to look at their big adams apples in throat and their big feet. I asked him what he did for a living. He said “I live.” Can you live on reselling video games alone? He was maybe 35 and dressed respectfully.

In a Malaysian paper there was an article about a visitor to the Philippines being drugged, robbed and left in a cemetery. I asked the Swedish man if he had ever had anything stolen. He replied “My wallet and a gold chain I wore around my neck but that his girl friend might have stolen them.”.

Next month, Mac discusses language.

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

Meeting News from London Saturday 7th February London meeting by Padmassana

Our first speaker this month was Chris Bradley, whose talk was called “Walking Wadi Hadramat”. Chris made a 550 mile solo trek through this barren area of Arabia. Yemen is another country that is unfortunately on the No-go list just now, so this talk was a fascinating insight. Chris showed us Shibam, also known as “The Manhattan of the desert” thanks to its 500 tower houses, some dating back 500 years. On his travels, Chris took part in local events including a shooting competition and a wedding. His nights spent under the stars, sometimes literally when one hotel had no room he slept on the roof and on another occasion he slept on a garage forecourt in the middle of nowhere, only for his evening meal to be delivered in shifts by a local family. Chris succeeded in his attempt to walk the Wadi, ending up on the beach of the Arabian Sea.

Our second speaker was Rupert Attlee, The Trail to Titicaca – 7000 mile cycle adventure through South America. Chris and companions decided to do this epic trip from the tip of South America following the Andes up to Lake Titicaca in aid of Leukaemia Research. The trip didn’t start well when they were all hospitalised after eating some shellfish. But once recovered they set off up through Chile to Santiago, though they found it hard going, having done very little training before setting out. Before setting off they had assured their sponsors that they would ride the whole way. This meant that on one occasion a road tunnel which would have been too dangerous to cycle through with all the fumes, was closed for them so they could ride through safely, on the other side they were met with cheers from the drivers who had been kept waiting. Rupert’s views of the Andes were superb, culminating in their Bolivian goal at Lake Titicaca.

£82 was collected after the meeting in aid of Leukaemia research, thanks to all those Globies who contributed.

Next month, on Saturday 6th March, Anthony Lambert will talk about railways on the Wildside – a look at a selection of the world’s railways. After the break our very own Jacqui Trotter will be talking about travelling 8 months overland in South America.

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

Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea by Iona Hill

The capital Port Moresby has a fairly poor reputation, in part deserved, but then, all large cities have their problems. Having said this, Port Moresby is not a large city, it is hard to really say where the centre is, as it is small-ish but sprawling. There is a down town of a type where there are a few multi storey buildings, including the infamous Deloittes building. Last year when I was there, I read a newspaper account that said that this building had been built three times. The first two times, the construction was awarded to a firm who took the money and went bust. The final time, at hugely escalated costs, it was finally built and houses the few accountancy firms that remain in Port Moresby and other businesses. Shell have offices around the corner.

This starts to highlight the real problem with PNG as a whole: crime, environmental degradation, corruption and cronyism. There is a system called won tok, whereby your won toks do you a favour, such as getting you a job, and this holds you in their debt and you are expected to do favours for them. For example, if someone wrongs you or your family, you can call on your won toks to right the wrong.

And this brings me to discuss law and order. The population of PNG is 4 million, and there are around 400 police officers. The geography of the area is interesting. On the other half of New Guinea that is PNG, as opposed to Indonesian, there is a large mountain range separating the north from the south. There are no roads that connect the two coasts. The interior is very mountainous and remote. There are a collection of outlying islands, including New Britain, New Ireland, Bougainville and many smaller islands. This geographical dispersion and the remote interior has resulted in many different tribes of people and over 700 languages.

Many people from the highlands and islands, unable to make ends meet, or ambitious for a better life migrate to the cities, such as Port Moresby, Lae, Kavieng seeking work. These people are referred to as settlers, and they build their own houses from wood, corrugated iron, palm leaves, plastic bags or sheeting etc and maybe cultivate a little land by growing mangoes or coconuts etc. In Port Moresby, there are many settlements which an outsider cannot and should not go into. The nearest comparison I can think of are the shanty towns in Rio or the townships around Johannesburg. They are self policing or completely lawless, depending on which way you look at it.

Over Christmas 2003, I was in Madang, a very pretty natural harbour town on the “main” land. The government had previously issued several warnings to the settlers there that they should leave and go back to their original home land. Few settlers did leave. Over Christmas it became real, and the police were deployed to forcibly evict the settlers from their homes, by burning down their houses and chopping any cultivated trees down. It was a sad sight. There were reports that the police were stealing possessions from inside people’s homes before they set fire to them. In Madang, many of the settlers had been there for over 20 years, and the mood of the people I spoke to was that the government should have laid on some transport or means of helping people to return to their original homeland. I since read a newspaper report that said that the PNG government had refused to allow the Red Cross to distribute aid to the displaced settlers. It was not a good time and I imagine is still on going. I know this happened in provinces other than Madang.

There is a small ex-pat population in Port Moresby and they live in compounds. I visited the Shell compound, and was quite taken aback by the security: double gates to get into the compound, razor wire all around, watch towers, guards and guard dogs, electric fences and inside each of the 6 homes, huge sturdy rape gates on the top floor to prevent entry into the bedrooms.

The majority of expats are Australian and this is the closest sizeable country. Many companies have pulled out of PNG as they say it is too difficult to do business there – problems with land title, bribery and corruption and high levels of crime.

The Australian High Commission sits on a hill and the houses for their staff are right beside it, and look like Lego buildings. Locals call this compound “Shit Scared Alley”. I spoke to some of the Australian High Commission staff and they said that they barely leave the compound. Car-jacking is common place, rape, sexual abuse and incest are distressingly too common. All men own machetes. There did not seem to be too much of a gun culture, but they certainly exist. AIDS is not a huge problem yet, but it is there. The female expats, mostly wives of ex-pat workers are advised to be extremely careful where they drive and not to fill up at petrol stations alone for fear of being car-jacked. The modus operandi is to rape a woman in front of her husband or son and make them watch. This was every ex-pat woman’s biggest fear and I sensed a huge feeling of vulnerability.

This probably paints a fairly grim picture of Port Moresby, but it is at least realistic. I stayed there a week by myself in Christmas of 2002. I stayed at the Magila Hotel which was cheap, friendly, clean and safe. It was a fairly transient sort of place, and not in a good part of town, being in Six Mile – called Six Mile because it is 6 miles from the centre. The motel is surrounded by razor barbed wire and has a watch tower and 24 hour guards – common for Port Moresby. I did not go outside the motel at night on foot – you really don’t walk anywhere in Port Moresby, but I did go by car with friends I made, into town and had meals there etc.

Everyone I met was friendly, polite, interested in why I was in PNG and I have never encountered any problems myself. The diving in Port Moresby is excellent and there are 2 dive facilities – PNG Dive, where I was, and a resort, the Loloata resort. There are 2 places where ex-pats go: the Yacht Club, with good views, a cheap bar and decent food, but predominantly frequented by ex-pats, and there is another place where ex-pats married to local women tend to go. Rather uncharitably, a friend of mine said you could always tell who would go there because they have a red nose through drinking too much.

There isn’t a huge amount to do in Port Moresby and I would not recommend it to the visitor other than to dive. There is an interesting designed Houses of Parliament, and my favourite place is PNG Arts. It is a large shop that sells handicrafts made by people from all over PNG, from the river Sepik where the work depicts spirits in the form of crocodiles, from the islands and from the highlands. I love it there and have spent many an afternoon browsing around the masks, ceremonial daggers, tables, wooden crocodiles and yes, they do make penis gourd holders – the shop told me that the Japanese are the largest customers of these! The people who work there are great (especially Ken, the Canadian who went to PNG as a bet in the 1960s) and the man who owns it is local. They can tell you who made the artefact you are interested in and can ship direct to your home country. I did this last year and had 2 crates sent back to London – it took 5 months to arrive, but it did arrive!

Infrastructure in Port Moresby is better than it used to be. Many of the roads have been repaired – in December 2002 when I was first there, there were huge craters throughout all of the roads which created small mini roads around them! Taxis are very expensive and you need to make sure that the driver knows exactly where you want to go. Electricity is mostly on although the water is not safe to drink from the tap, bottled water is widely available. If you need to stay over in transit, the Airways hotel is pretty good, and you can get a free transfer from both the domestic and international airport as they meet every flight, even if you don’t stay and just want to have lunch or dinner there or sit by the pool. It has a nice green setting, overlooking the airport, 5 minutes drive away on a hill and they do good food.

Bride price is still paid by many people. One man I met who helped with the dive operation I was at last year told me how much he paid in bride price for his wife. It seemed like an awful lot (won toks are expected to chip in as well as the entire family) and I said jokingly that his wife must be a princess. He solemnly replied that yes, she was a princess.

Once you get outside Port Moresby then you can then appreciate the true beauty of the country and the friendliness of its people.

Meeting News from New York

For details of forthcoming meetings email newyork@globetrotters.co.uk or register for email updates, click here at our website.

New York meetings are held at The Wings Theatre, 154 Christopher Street(btw Greenwich St and Washington St), to the right of Crunch Fitness, in the Archive on the first Saturday of each month at 4 pm.

The Black Sea

Where exactly is the Black Sea? It is formed by three rivers: the Danube, the Dnieper and the River Don and is bordered by six countries: Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Georgia, Russia and Ukraine. The population of the greater Black Sea basin is more than 160 million.

Nobody really knows why the Black Sea is called such. Some say that it gained its name from sailors and pirates who were struck by its dark appearance when the sky turned black with storm clouds. The Ancient Greeks called the Black Sea the Scythian Sea, after the not so friendly tribes who lived on its shores at the time. Shipwrecked sailors could generally expect no a hard time from the Scythians, who raided the wrecks and were said to have made wine goblets out of sailors’ skulls. The Greeks also called it Pontos Axenos – the inhospitable sea – until they settled in Crimea, after which they changed their minds and called it Pontos Euxenos: the hospitable sea.

The Black Sea is very deep (1,271m at the centre) but it’s less salty than most oceans. It began life as a fresh water lake about 22,000 years ago. About 7,000 – 9,000 years ago, global warming melted glaciers and the polar ice-caps, sea levels rose and eventually the Mediterranean overflowed through the Bosporus, turning the lake into the Black Sea. Many archaeologists think that this catastrophic event was in fact the Noah’s Flood of the Bible.

The sea is unique in having two layers, an oxygenated upper layer, about 200m deep, with fish life, and a `dead’ lower layer, where until recently nothing was thought to be able to survive.

A peculiarity of the Black Sea is the bi-directional current where it flows through the Bosporus straits on its way to the Mediterranean. The surface current flows westwards through the straits into the Sea of Marmaris, but there is a deep current which flows simultaneously in the opposite direction, back into the Black Sea.

There are plenty of beaches in The Crimea, of Florence Nightingale fame – some 517 km of beaches – mostly small pebbles and some black volcanic sand. Many beaches are public, and the private ones owned by hotels and sanatoria are usually open to non-patrons at a price of around 3 Hryvnias (£0.40p or $0.56 cents) per day. There are also naturist beaches near Koktebel in the east.

Meeting News from Ontario

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 downtown Toronto at 8.00 p.m.

Angkor Artichokes by Dave Fuller

“Artichoke. It’s like a hard, rough, green flower.” The gears in my head whirred away as I searched for a description. All around me, serene faces carved out of stone blocks smiled. “What does it taste like?” asked Kay with pen poised. I looked to the grey sandstone heads for inspiration and replied, “A bit like… Cabbage.”

During the week, the Bayon and nearby stone temples of Angkor resemble anthills crawling with travellers. Two by two the tour groups scurry around the ancient monuments, up the steep sides and in and out of cool corridors, collecting knowledge, photographs and memories. On Sundays, the 200 carved faces of Avalokiteshvara smile smugly at young Khmers carrying notebooks collecting English words.

Kay is 13. He lives in the small village of Kok Tmey just outside Siem Reap. He goes to the temples of Angkor every Sunday to find travellers willing to spend a few minutes teaching him their language. That week his homework was to learn how to spell and pronounce a list of 28 fruit and vegetables.

In return for running through the list, Kay lead me to the bas-reliefs at the bottom of the Bayon where the first level of carving depicts daily life in Cambodia. “My uncle has one of these on his farm,” said Kay pointing to an ox-cart in a picture of Khmer soldiers off to battle. “And this is the village where the boat comes in from Phenom Penh,” he said, pointing to a panel that included a fish market. “Look at the chickens fighting and the old men playing.”

Kay tugged at my shirt sleeve. “Come this way. This is my favourite.” We walked to the western corner where a slightly faded panel showed a Khmer circus complete with tight-rope walkers and a giant lifting three other men.

From that point on ground level, the Bayon was a jumble of sandstone blocks. As we climbed knee high stone steps to the third level, the giant stone faces appeared in front and in profile, smiling above and all around. I said goodbye to Kay and left him and his school friends interrogating a Canadian girl about the taste of a guava.

“Custard Apple. It’s like a small soft coconut with green skin,” I explained as I sat in a deserted courtyard inside the Preah Khan temple. Bun, one of Kay’s schoolmates with the same homework, nodded and pointed to a small white flower growing in the shade of the rock. “Did you see the movie ‘Tomb Raider’?” he asked. “The girl found the entrance to the temple by finding the flowers. Just like this.” I looked closer at the tiny orchid, not much bigger than a thumbnail with five delicate petals in the shape of a star. It was a great reward for sitting still. We ran through the list of fruit and vegetables and then Bun showed me through the ‘Sacred Sword’ temple. We walked down the main corridor towards the central sanctuary. “Look how the doors get lower as we get closer,” said Bun. “This is to make you bow before the statue of Buddha.” Bun had no problems walking through the doorways as they shrank, but I could not pass through them without bowing my head.

The Preah Khan temple covers an area of 700m by 800m. As Bun led me over a pile of collapsed rooftop, I was glad that I had a guide to show me the hidden details, like an intricate carving of Shiva holding up the mountain and a queen statue that I would never have found on my own. We wandered down lost corridors to the southern gate where two headless statues stood guard against the jungle. “They guard against the monkeys,” laughed Bun, as the screeches of gibbons got louder in the treetops.

Bun and I made our way to the South Eastern corner of the temple where the Banyan trees had taken over from the stone. The thick roots of the trees gripped the 12th century sandstone blocks like the talons of a mythological bird of prey, providing a base for the trunk that dwarfed the remaining towers of the temple. “The jungle tree and the temple need each other,” said Bun, “The tree can not be removed. It holds the pieces together.” He walked with me to the north gate where he was delighted to find a French couple to help him with a postcard he had been sent.

“Persimmon. I don’t know. I’ve never eaten one. I think it might be a bit like this one,” I said, pointing to where passion fruit was written on the sheet. I sat with Jac under the cool canopy of trees covering the crumbling ruins of Ta Prohm. Jac pointed to a row of doorways topped by banyan tree roots. “That is where they filmed ‘Tomb Raider,” he said. I could see why. Unlike most of the other temples around Angkor, Ta Prohm has not been restored. Instead it has been left at the mercy of the jungle.

Academics argue about the merits of letting the site decay to satisfy tourists who want to feel like Lara Croft or Indiana Jones. Some say it is selfish to want to discover the overgrown entrances as if for the first time. As we sat in a green shady corner, listening to the birds and lizards rustle in the jungle, it was hard not to marvel at how nature had reclaimed the space.

We clambered over stones that had collapsed under the weight of foliage and in and out of courtyards that had been sealed on all sides. We slipped on moss and lichen still eating away at the carved stones and I tried to imagine what the place would have been like when 80,000 people had lived and worshipped there.

Another word was collected on the trek out the long sandy track to the eastern gate, Jac jumped backwards as a foot long shoelace came out of the grass and started to slowly cross the path. “Is it a snake?” asked Jac as I leaned closer. “No. We call it a worm,” I said as he furiously wrote it down in his notebook.

“Adventure. It’s a long and exciting journey,” I explained to Tola, a monk who lived in a monastery not far from Angkor Wat. Like most monks, he had studied English for a long time, but he still came to find tourists on Sundays on the third level of the main temple. We sat and looked up at the steep steps that led to the top of the central tower. Each step was about a foot high but only just wide enough to fit a foot sideways. “You get used to it,” said Tola, “I don’t even think about the height, I just run down.” He pointed to the summit as three Khmer boys threw their sandals off the top and onto the flat stones in front of where we sat. Then they ran, face first, down the steps without faltering. Tola grinned, “There is a hand rail around the other side.”

Tola met me at the top of the central tower. He climbed in bare feet straight up the side, while I used the thin metal handrail to pull myself 31m to the top. Once there, Tola pointed out the significance of the design of the temple. “This tower is Mount Meru,” he said, referring to the place where Hindu cultures believe the gods reside. “That is the ocean,” he continued, gesturing out over the walls to the moat of still dark water that forms a 1.5km by 1.3km boundary to the complex. We walked around the top level, traditionally reserved for Kings and high priests, until we were facing the paved pathways and main gates in the west.

The sun was setting and the Angkor sky was orange, tangerine, melon, paw-paw and blueberry. There was a colour for almost every fruit on the homework sheet…

This article can be found on Dave’s website:

dave@dmfreedom.com

Meeting News from Texas

The next Texas Globetrotters meeting will take place on Saturday March 13th when we look forward to a talk from Southwest Airlines.

The location for the March and April 2004 meetings will be changed, (tax season), so watch your e-mail for the updates.

For more information about the Texas Branch: please contact texas@globetrotters.co.uk or register for email updates at our website (click here) or call Christina at 830-620-5482

If anybody would like to enquire about meetings or help Christina, please contact her on: texas@globetrotters.co.uk