A change of date….on October 19^th, we have yet, another interesting guest speaker!! Liz Ferber will be doing a picture show and presentation about some of her favorite exotic locations, with an in-depth look at some of their most special features. Highlights will include: India, Peru, Africa, and Thailand, specifically: Northern India, the Andes mountains and Cusco area, Senegal and the Gambia in West Africa, and the Andaman Sea, food in Chiang Mai, and the best chicken in Thailand!

Elizabeth Ferber is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in The New York Times Book Review, The Washington Post, New York Magazine, and several other publications. She is the author of ten books, is a graduate of Barnard College and received her Master's Degree in Education from New York University. She is the President of Design Alternatives, a firm specializing in environmentally-sustainable interior design. She currently lives in Katonah, New York with her husband and two children. Together, they travel to the ends of the earth as often as possible.

New York meetings are held at The Wings Theater, 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 from 4pm -5:30pm. $8.00 for members, $10.00 for non-members.

Darrell from Washington, DC, wrote in: “someone who visited both Prague and Bratislava before Czechoslovakia split should get credit for two countries. Likewise, chalk up two countries if someone visited East and West Germany separately before 1990”.

Del from Texas says: “Easy, it counts if the part that split was visited”.

Henry from Hawaii says: No, one could count two countries if both Prague and Bratislava were visited before the split. It is the territory that counts since it is pretty much the same regardless of who owns it at any given time. A purist would argue that it would require visitation when the current state was in operation and one could agree with that view in order to keep the counting as standard as possible.

Nick from London wrote in to say: I liked the What Counts as having visited a Country? section in the newsletter this month. Years ago I visited a couple of bits of Yugoslavia, and I would note that as several countries now.

Our webmaster Paul sent in a link of the official ISO country list, for worldly travellers to tick ‘em off! Take a look at http://www.iso.ch/iso/en/prods-services/iso3166ma/02iso-3166-code-lists/index.html

This month’s question, from Nick from London is: I would be interested if people think it counts if you have visited a country for a stopover.

On September 20, Bruce Weber & Hoang Nguyen will talk about: “Impressions of Vietnam” (with slides). Bruce, the first-time visitor and Hong returned after 15 years. We will also have some Visiting medical students talking about: “Secrets of Bavaria”

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.

Greetings one and all. This message is coming to you from Lusaka, the nerve centre of quiet, peaceful and more or less desolate Zambia, a Southern African country just north of Zimbabwe. We landed in Zambia somewhat by accident. You see, it all started at the Zimbabwean border not so long ago.

As we left South Africa with our hearts warmed by the hospitality of its people, particularly the Bekkers and Viersters (noted in prior emails), and entered Zim a little wary due to the much-publicized conflict arising out of its recent elections, we were greeted by a friendly Zimbabwean border official who asked whether we desired a single or multiple-entry visa. We weighed the pro's and con's: Sali, the nest-builder that she is, decided it best that we pass through Zim as quickly as possible, lest we lost our opportunity to build our future nest in a post-election squabble; I, the budget-minded one, found it morally reprehensible that we might waste funds on the more expensive multiple-entry option when we had no intention of returning to Zimbabwe. So, for differing reasons, we found common ground and unanimously opted for a single-entry visa. The border official dutifully completed the paperwork in triplicate and, upon completion, asked our plans in Zimbabwe.

We came for two reasons, we told him: to see Victoria Falls, one of the seven natural wonders of the world, and to relax on Lake Kariba, considered a gem of Southern Africa. With great pleasure, our friend pulled out a map of Zimbabwe and outlined possible routes. Only then did we realize that the easiest way to go from Vic Falls to Lake Kariba is to transit through little-known Zambia. In response to this geography lesson, we decided it best to purchase the multiple-entry visa and go along the suggested itinerary. Oh, so sorry, we were told, but he had already completed the paperwork for our single-entry document. Oh well, live and learn, we figured, and we left for Victoria Falls not entirely sure of our future plans.

Vic Falls is all it was cracked up to be: a roaring waterfall of immense power that kicks up mist which engulfs the verdant foliage and all nearby tourists; high above the spray, a rainbow arches atop the chasm that forms the Falls. Noting that the surrounding greenery enjoys sunshine and water in abundance, Sali confided that if she were a plant, Vic Falls is where she would like to live.

During our stay at the Falls we learned that Lake Kariba, bounded not only by Zimbabwe but Zambia as well, is equally beautiful on the Zambian side–though not nearly as prepared for tourism. Bidding goodbye to our newfound friend–the country of Zimbabwe–we sought the cool blue waters of Lake Kariba from the Zambian coast.

As for Zimbabwe and the oft-discussed strife, we found tension in the air but nothing more. Upon discussion with whites and blacks, we found distrust of the government and concern for the future by many. But we also found great pride among its peoples and appreciation for the beauty of the land by all of its inhabitants. While South Africans may decry the happenings in Zimbabwe, Zimbabweans will quickly point out that the number of violent attacks on Zimbabwean farmers at the peak of violent times is surpassed tenfold by the number of attacks on city goers in Johannesburg at any time of the year.

There is famine in Zimbabwe, or so we had heard, so we stocked up on dry goods before we entered the country, only to be greeted by well-stocked markets at the major stopping points. There is a shortage of petrol in Zimbabwe, we were told, so we entered the country with three full jerry cans. Admittedly, the petrol was of pure quality, causing our car to spit and sputter uphill, but petrol was abundant and cost us half what it cost in South Africa. Indeed, we did not use our stock of petrol until we entered serene, under-developed Zambia, where fuel costs three times what it costs in Zim.

In sum, our tour of Zimbabwe shot bullets through the misperceptions we had heard about the country, leaving holes in the blanket of fears we clung to upon arrival. Of course, that is not to say that the trouble is over in Zimbabwe (or anywhere in Africa, for that matter). As reverberations of empowerment spread through this continent, Zimbabwe and the rest of Africa will surely experience strife as each country settles into the foundations of its nationhood.

Okay, I'll get off my soapbox and move on to telling you about Zambia. After a few days on Lake Kariba, where I honed my fire-building techniques, Sali washed the dickens out of our clothes and we both improved our butterfly stroke at the camp's swimming pool, we set out for a campsite along the mighty Zambezi (Africa's fourth largest river behind the Nile, the Congo, and the River Niger). Driving as far as we could go on public land, we found the perfect spot, where the Zambezi meets the Chongwe River and wildlife abounds from both sides.

Entering this idyllic retreat, I half-expected to see a distinguished-looking man in a white three-piece suit and his half-pint sidekick welcome us to Fantasy Island. Instead, Ann and Bruce, a couple of expats from South Africa living their dreams in the untamed bush of Zambia as managers of the Chongwe River Lodge, directed us to our campsite along the water. Outfitted with a private ablution block (i.e., open-air toilet and shower, each fenced in with thatched walls) and a campsite on the bank of the river, our temporary home could best be described as designed for rustic comfort. The plumbing in the toilet worked great and the shower was prepared upon our request by a worker who carted, via the use of a wheelbarrow, tubs of hot water which he then poured into a 60-litre drum hoisted overhead through the use of a pulley system.

Nocturnal sounds at the campsite included chirping birds, grunting hippos, screeching baboons and an occasional fish breaking the water's surface to feed. Shining a flashlight across the placid river, one can see brawny hippos powering through the water and the creepy, glowing red eyes of crocodiles. In daylight, elephants traipse through the camp, tugging at trees and ingesting all the shrubbery they can stuff into their hungry mouths. Fiercely herbivorous, elephants eat about 200 kilograms per day (almost 450 pounds) of leaves, branches and roots. In the hot sun, hippos remain submerged in the water up to their eyeballs for most of the day, bobbing up for a periodic breath, and bounce on and off the land sometime after nightfall.

As for our interactions with the elephants, they were nothing short of spectacular. Literally, they walked among us. Sali and I were drinking our morning coffee one day when one slurped from the river not ten feet from us. The only danger with these generally gentle beasts is if you enter their comfort zone (probably about 35 feet in radius) without permission. After a while, it becomes not too hard to read the animal, so it is unlikely to be confused by its inclinations. However, I did mistake a never-seen-before elephant with the one that Sali and I had met over coffee. That exchange turned out to be a frightful one for yours truly, for when the elephant found me, a stranger, entering his space without proper invitation, he quickly turned from mild-mannered leaf eater to severely agitated wild beast.

Looking like he was going to stomp me like a grape, this 2-ton wild animal charged. Maybe it was because of my kindly demeanour, maybe it was because of my devilish charm, or maybe it was because I ran like hell. Whatever the reason, the big guy decided I wasn't worth it and stopped after a long moment, and I quickly made my way to the loo.

Oh, I nearly forget about Silkie, the domesticated Antelope that Bruce and Ann have taken under their wing ever since its mother discarded it at birth due to a cleft hoof. In the bush, any deformity is viewed as too costly to the rest of the group, and the animal is left to fend for itself. But thanks to Ann and Bruce and modern medicine, a vet repaired Silkie’s hoof. However, having become habituated to humans, she likes our company and sticks to the campsite. Silkie was kind enough to chaperone us on all of our nature walks.

Tourism is growing rapidly in Zambia and everyone has their finger on the pulse of dollars coursing through the veins of the tourist trade. On our second day, the local chieftainess (yes, a woman–duly elected by her tribes people), made an impromptu visit on the lodge to spy on its developments. We don't know the business arrangement exactly, but we do know that she leased the land for 99 years and keeps a watch on it now and then. When the chieftainess arrives, everyone jumps to attention, bowing and scraping as much as possible.

After several days walking along the Zambezi, talking to the elephants and searching for hippos breaking the surface of the water, we bid farewell to Ann and Bruce–a more amiable couple you will be hard to find–and headed for the somewhat bustling capital of Zambia, Lusaka, which is where we are now.

Michael and his wife have been driving through Africa since March 2002.

14^th September 2002 Texas branch meeting Review by Christina Smith

Two wonderful presentations were enjoyed by the 18 in attendance. Emily Naberhaus, a regular attendee, discussed and demonstrated packing techniques for a week or a month.

Sue Howell, a soon to be regular attendee, introduced the group to her new business Vacations Unlimited Travel, Inc. Everyone had time to share their travel stories and dreams, and do some networking before the meeting ended. Two door prizes were given.. More than half of the group continuedtravel conversation over a few beverages and a bunch of peanuts at the Hoity Toit.

On October 12th at 2 p.m, resident photographer Chris Schorre will present a slide show and provide travel facts about Croatia. As always, everyone is invited to the New Braunfels Public Library in New Braunfels, Texas to meet with fellow travelers.

Organizer of the Texas branch meetings Christina Smith says: “The monthly meetings are the exact support I need in dealing with the travel bug that bit me early in life. My desire and obsession for travel takes center stage. Fortunately the fellowship of other travelers on a monthly basis continues toenhance my addiction. I love this wonderful support group”. The Beetle says a big thank you to you, Christina for making the Texas branch what it is today – down to your enthusiasm and dedication!

The Texas branch members have decided to take a trip together! Plans are being developed for a group excursion to the Copper Canyon in Mexico for Spring 2003.

Future meetings: October 12and November 9th

A reminder that Texas meetings will start one hour earlier, at 2pm and not 3pm.

Meetings are held at 2pm at the New Braunfels Public Library, 700 E. Common Street in New Braunfels, Texas. The meeting ends at 5 p.m. If you would like to continue travel talk on a more informal basis, we plan to adjourn to the Hoity-Toit, a local New Braunfels establishment. If anybody would like to enquire about meetings or help Christina, please contact her on: texas@globetrotters.co.uk

Dubai has never been known to do things by halves. Tourism is a huge earner for Dubai, the tiny state on the Arabian peninsular. They already have super de-luxe hotel complexes, reputedly the world’s first 6 star hotel, golf courses created from grass imported from the United States, watered each night from a massive desalination plant. You start to get the picture that nothing is too much. And now, the Dubai government has started work on what will be the world’s largest artificial island called The Palm.

It will be 300 metres offshore, and 5km long, in the shape of a palm tree. The marketing company in charge say that it will be visible from the moon. Press information states that the project is using 415 architects and 760 labourers, working 24 hours a day to obtain the rock and sand that the island requires.

Foreigners will be allowed to own property, on a 100 year freehold basis, and there will be an estimated 3,000 villas, townhouses and apartments, many with private access to a beach and moorings. Sound tempting? Villa prices start at £350,000 or $550,000, but buyers can chose the style of their villa, from Italianate, Caribbean or Middle Eastern. 40 boutique hotels are on the drawing board, many designed according to a set of themes: Tahitian, Moroccan, Greek are just some of the styles.

For more info, take a look at: Palm Island Info

The majority of tourists visiting Cyprus are blissfully unaware of the pain and division that has haunted the island since 1974. To most, the image and experience of Cyprus is one of sun and sand, the snow-capped Troodos Mountains and exquisite frescoes housed in Byzantine monasteries. For the island's inhabitants its a different story altogether. After gaining independence in 1960, peace between the Greek and Turkish communities was already fragile with the Turkish minority, representing 20% of the population, retreating into ghettos and enclaves after sporadic violence and harassment. In their defence, the Turkish army launched an invasion of northern Cyprus in July 1974 and occupied the northern third of the island, leaving thousands dead or wounded and huge numbers of refugees fleeing to their respective sides of the divide. That division of Cyprus has remained to this day.

Whilst the south has enjoyed international recognition and a booming economy boosted by tourism, the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus has found life a lot tougher and depends on its sponsor Turkey for its economic survival. Separating the two factions and running almost the length of the country and dividing the island's capital into two is the Green Line, also known at the Attila Line – a buffer zone maintained and patrolled by the blue-bereted peacekeepers of the United Nations. Talks of a reconciliation between the two sides have stuttered and stalled on many occasions and feelings still run high, fuelled by recent incidents like the deaths of the three Deryneia Martyrs in 1996.

This was the background to my visit to the island's capital city Nicosia, or Lefkosia as it's called today. The holiday rep at my hotel in Pafos had whetted my appetite when he told me that crossing the Green Line wasn't a good idea, as I might not be allowed back. That statement immediately sparked my thirst for adventure and my wife Sue and I set off early one morning in our hire car to cover the 150 kilometers to see for ourselves. Our first stop in the capital was the 11th floor of the Woolworths department store on Lidras Street, where telescopes gave us a bird's eye view across into the northern half of the city. At the end of the street, an observation platform allowed us to peer into the buffer zone to see a street with rubble-strewn buildings and rolls of barbed wire, left as it was in July 1974.

On foot, we followed the Green Line westwards, punctuated by a series of UN bunkers, roadblocks, a wall of sandbags and oil drums and signs forbidding photographs and stopped at the Holy Cross RC church, isolated inside the buffer zone and guarded by a solitary UN soldier. Nearby is the only spot on the island where you can legally cross into the north on a day excursion, at the site of the old Ledra Palace hotel. As we approached, Sue's nerves became a little more frayed when we encountered up to fifty wailing Cypriot women, dressed in black mourning clothes and holding pictures of loved ones still missing since the 1970s.The stern-faced Greek Cypriot border guards made little effort to disguise their disgust at our desire to cross as they slowly copied details of our passports onto a list and pointed at a sign that instructed our return by 5.30pm. It was a few minutes past eleven o'clock.

Leaving the checkpoint, Sue and I walked quietly along a connecting road, the ruined Ledra Palace hotel on our left, now used as a billet by the UN (who have 1,500 personnel on peace-keeping duty on the island), and desolate waste ground to our right. Two female UN soldiers nodded their hello as we completed the 300 metre walk and checked into the Turkish police control building. A few minutes later and the form-filling formalities completed, we were in northern Cypriot territory and Sue began breathing normally again. No real hassle at all but a mixed feeling of excitement and unease nonetheless, heightened by the soulful wailing of the widowed Cypriot women we'd left at the border post as we crossed no-mans land.

For the next four hours we walked around the old city, along narrow passageways and empty streets, enjoying the friendliness of the people, soaking up the atmosphere and visiting a few notable attractions including the soaring minarets of north Nicosia's most prominent landmark, the Cami Selimiye Mosque. Its a working church with a strong French Gothic style but it was empty as I stepped inside and removed my shoes for my first look inside a mosque. Next door is the sixth century Byzantine church ruin known as the Bedesten and nearby is another ornate Gothic church, the Cami Haydarpasa. Undergoing restoration work is the Buyuk Han, a rare example of a Middle Age inn, known as a caravanserai. Although closed, the foreman invited us in to look around before we finished off our tour with a ten minute walk to the Turkish (Mevlevi Tekke) Museum, the former home of the mystical Islamic sect known as the Whirling Dervishes. They are famed for their spinning, trance-like dance that flourished for 700 years until they were banned in 1930.

Returning to the old city, we stopped at a sidewalk cafe in the pedestrian zone and listened to a rock band playing an open-air concert. One unusual aspect which gave Sue a few jitters north of the divide was the distinct lack of female shoppers. Instead, large groups of young Turkish men were much in evidence, either standing on street corners or wandering aimlessly and appeared to be army conscripts in civilian clothes. With an hour to go before the border closed, Sue and I made our way back towards the crossing point via the quiet back streets where buildings have been left unoccupied, others are bullet-scarred and in ruins including a church and the Roccas Bastion, where Turkish Cypriots can look through a barbwire-topped fence into the southern half of the city and what for them is forbidden territory.

The smiling faces of the Turkish police were in stark contrast to the dour look on the faces of the Greek border guards as we returned to the southern half of Nicosia via the long and eerie walk past a lone UN soldier on sentinel duty midway between the two factions. The wailing widows were still massed just past the guardroom and we were handed a flyer asking if we knew of the whereabouts of Pavlos Solomi and Solon Pavlos Solomi, missing since the morning of 15 August 1974 and the beloved husband and 17 year old son of the old woman who'd handed us the poster. Her name was Panayiota Pavlos and she told us that 1,588 people are still missing from that time, their fate unknown and the encounter was a poignant reminder of the human face of the division that still separates Cyprus today.

For more information on Andy’s travels, visit his website which has lots of travelogue stories with pictures. Andy Brouwer's website

Amina Lawal to be stoned in Nigeria in the 21^st Century As you may recently have read in the papers, a court in Northern Nigeria has confirmed that 30 year old Amina Lawal will be executed by stoning due to giving birth to a child after her divorce. “The crime”, proved by Ms Lawal becoming pregnant was made at a time when the Law of Sharia was not yet legal in the area. Funnily enough, the father of the “crime” could not be prosecuted because of the requirement of 4 witnesses to the event, who, strangely have not come forward. The stoning will take place when Ms Lawal has finished breast feeding her 8 months old daughter. What’s more, Miss Universe are still considering scheduling their event in Nigeria, despite this sentence.

At Amnesty International (AI) England's home page you can sign an open letter to Nigeria’s President to protest against this cruel sentence. AI say that more than 18.500 people have already done so. To sign the letter, visit: Amina Open Letter