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 Mac reminiscences about some of his travels in 1992.  Here we have thoughts and experiences on India.

I am enjoying reading a book called Eating The Indian Air by John Morris, published by Atheneun 1969 New York.  Eating the Indian Air is an Indian expression meaning to take a walk.  Morris was in British Army in India and returned around 1969 to see changes.  He had been on Mt Everest expeditions of 1922 and 1936 so his visit to see Tensing at the Himalayan Mountaineering School, Darjeeling, India was interesting.

Quote: “After breakfast I set off to visit the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute.  The world famous Tensing is the chief instructor at the Himalayan Institute.  I had purposely not telephoned to let him know of my visit because I wished to give him a surprise. In 1936 as a young and inexperienced Sherpa porter he had been my personal servant on Everest and although I had seen him in England after the successful climb in 1953. By local standards he has become a wealthy man but he is quite unspoilt and still lives in a simple but comfortable manner.  His appearance reminded me of the best of the Swiss guides with whom in more affluent days many of us used to climb.  And he was dressed for the part, thick woollen knickerbockers, hand knitted stockings, a peacock blue sweater, Homburg hat (favourite of all men of Tibetan origin and the heaviest of climbing boots I have ever seen.  I could not resist pulling his leg about his appearance but this he said with a laugh was the outfit in which American tourists expected to find him; they were disappointed if they found him more soberly dressed”.

Me, Mac speaking now.  I visited this Himalayan School outside Darjeeling when I was maybe 69.  There was a slight hill to get to it and I came puffing in the door and asked if I could enrol in the school.  They laughed and said they did not take anyone over 18 years of age.  I was sorry Tensing did not get to meet me but he was either not in that day or away climbing a mountain. They had a gift shop and I brought several kinds of key rings with picture of Mr Everest and I think some saying.  They proved to be the gift the recipients enjoyed getting the most and they did not take up much room in my pack.

I stayed in a budget place and I thought they said I could see Mr Kangchenjunga, the third largest mountain in the world from my window. They suggested I get up at 5am before the clouds came in or something. What they said was that I could see this Mt perhaps at this time from the hotel but from the other side of hotel. I did later see it.

They brought hot water in something like a milk bucket at the time I told them I wanted to take a bath. The woodwork in hotel was beautiful although a budget place. They did not service meals but they told me how to get to a place friends owned and it was good. I really enjoyed Darjeeling and the little toy train to get up there. I also visited a Tibetan refugee place.

From book The Whole World Stranger by Virginia Moore, The McMillan Company New York 1957 Page 144: “In the big bazaar of Calcutta (India) amid merchandise common and exotic we saw up for sale boxes of food from America marked “Do not sell, this is a gift” and heard that many recipients mistaking cheese for soap had washed their clothes with it” (Me. The night before we were to get on troop ship at Bremerhaven, Germany  (WWII) to return to the states a German POW doing kitchen duty mistook a bar of brown GI soap for butter and put it in the soup, (or so the story goes.)  At three in the morning troops were wandering around with dysentery trying to find a dispensary.  What a mess.  I decided I was going to get on that ship in the morning even if I had to crawl up the gang plank on my hands and knees lugging my duffel bag.  I did manage to stand up but had a movement on the way up the gang plank.  What an exit from war torn Europe.  (I think it was an honest mistake on the part of the German POW and don’t think it was sabotage.  Ha!) When we got to New York there was a harbour captain that came out to guide our ship on in.  I was at the side of ship watching this.  He came on board and shook my hand and said “Welcome home son.” (I had cleaned my self up by then.)  I get tears in my eyes just remembering him saying this. 

Back to the book. “At Jjama Masjid (noble Moslem mosque) in Delhi, the guide showed them three world sights.  Mohammed’s sandal, his footprint, and from his beard a long red hair.” The sandals were two inches shorter than his footprint.  They had one guide that they joked needed a guide as he didn’t know what some well known sites were.

Me: I found the guides on the government sponsored tours were very good and tours were reasonable.  I also found the government sponsored hotels were reasonable, clean and met my needs.  You find out about them from the National Tourist offices. While I did not use them all the time it was nice to know they were there.

I am reading an article about Oil Rich Brunei a feast for eyes by Sandra Scott in today’s Washington Times Travel section. She writes: On the Royal Brunei airplane from Thailand to Bandar the capital of Brunei just before landing a flight attendant advised “The importation of drugs into Brunei is illegal and punishable by death.  We are sorry for any inconvenience this may caused.”.

The sultan’s new 1,800 room palace is the largest in the world and is managed by Hyatt Corp.  For three days following Ramadan the palace is open to the public, a buffet is served and the sultan and his wives- he has two greet the people.”.

I met in Rio De Janeiro one time the son of one of the Royalty of Saudi Arabia, or he said he was.  He said his father had seven wives and he was the son of the youngest one.  He may have been a fake as he was staying in same budget pension I was.  I know he did give Varig or whatever Brazils airline a bribe to get on flight out when it was difficult to get out and they took it. I was surprised at this little transaction.

If you would like to contact Mac, he is happy to answer e-mails: macsan400@yahoo.com

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I was pretty taken with Cefalù. I had not expected it to have retained such charm since its advent to practically every tour firm’s brochure. My one disappointment was quite a major one, that the lovely cathedral, with mosaics older than those at Monreale [though nothing like as many,] was undergoing repair, a place of noise and dust with little mosaic actually showing. Never mind, you can’t win ’em all! Somehow I missed the quickest way to the bus for Castelbuono and I arrived in time to see the back of it as it left. It was right by the train station and, as Castelbuono was the very first stop and a train was almost due, I was not too worried. In fact my only worry was during the short train journey when I realised I had not validated my ticket! Fortunately nobody had told me that the station was nowhere near the town and that the walk was up a very long and pretty steep hill. I only had seconds to worry about this, as the fellow passenger who told me went on to offer a lift. We can have been only a little behind the bus!

My lift was to the tourist office who started to look for somewhere for me to stay that night. I quite fancied the idea of a b&b for a change and the price sounded OK until they phoned back to all but double it as I was on my own. No good. The next attempt was the only hotel in the little town, as far as I know, the Ariston. This was remarkably cheap and I left my luggage at the tourist office to carry on uphill to the castle before dropping down to the Ariston. The view, both of the town below and of the hills of the interior in the other direction confirmed the impression that it would be a good walking centre. However there was no time to weigh that up with only two nights left. I returned to the Ariston and the very cheap price came to seem explicable. The receptionist was playing cards with a couple of friends – they called to mind Manet’s famous painting in the Courtauld Gallery at Somerset House, London. Shortly after he had given me the key I heard them – all – leave the hotel and that was it. There was nobody else in the hotel from then until I left in the morning. I do not remember the name of the place where I ate. I suppose you might call it an Italian fast food joint but it was just what I needed – fast indeed but remarkably friendly. I should go again – just above the arch on the right if you want to find it!

So back in the morning to Cefalù on the bus to catch the train on along the coast. I had by now what I thought was probably a pipedream, that it would be great to take a boat out to one of the Aeolian Islands for a couple of hours if timetables permitted – and they seemed to. This time the mistake was not my fault. The departure board in the station had been changed from the time-table from the tourist office and I had to wait well over an hour for the next train – and pay extra for the privilege because it was called an express. It would hardly be reasonable for an Englishman to complain about the train service anywhere but this was actually as bad as ours at near their worst.

Thus I arrived at Milazzo very uncertain whether it was going to be possible to do anything. I discovered that by taking an aliscafo [hydrofoil] I could get just about an hour on Lípari. I am and I was very aware that an hour on Lípari is absurdly insufficient. On the other hand it was nearly an hour more than nothing and allowed a sight of Vulcano on the way – and the sea was like a mill pond. There was really no contest in my mind; I went and I am glad I did – though I should certainly like to go again for longer and see some of the other islands as well.

After the trip, reported in the next edition, I was rather too tired to walk up to the castle at Milazzo but it looked striking enough towering over the town. I was there at a time when the industrial smoke said to spoil the town so badly was absent and it seemed a good place. I stayed at the Central in the Via  del Sole, an ordinary little place with shared bathrooms, cheaper but otherwise much the same as several others. I ate at a sort of shop/cafe at the far end of town from a wonderful spread of antipasti type dishes – very cheaply indeed.

David was a keen walker, particularly on mountains before he developed serious heart problems in 1995. He has now adapted his holidays to what he is able to do and we are presenting his account of 12 days in Sicily over this and the coming months. Next two episodes: Palermo.

Next episode – Aeolians , Messina, Taormina.

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1 Bahamas	2 Brazil	3 Croatia	4 Germany	5 Iceland

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