World Traveller: 20 Years of Travel Stories

1.?????Copacabana mugger left empty-handed: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2000

2.?????Frozen toes in the Andes: The Bolivian Andes, 2000

3.?????Peruvian romance: Cusco, Peru, 2001-Casablanca, Morocco, 2002

4.????They were wearing army fatigues: San Agustin, Colombia, 2001

5.????Before the revolution: 8 hrs in police custody: Tunis, Tunisia, 2002

6.???Turning up unannounced at the house of Satyajit Ray: Calcutta, India, 2003

7.?? We have no record of your booking sir: Santiago de Cuba, Cuba, 2005

8.?? Drinks with the Yakuza: Hiroshima, Japan, 2006

9.???What was that hole doing there?: Jakarta, Indonesia, 2013

10.??Panamanian paranoia: David, Panama, 2014

* Chaos at the airport, Hong Kong, 2019

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I. Copacabana mugger left empty-handed: Rio de Janeiro,Brazil 2000

At 2pm I decided to take my top off and relax on the world-famous beach. A weird guy with intoxicated red eyes called out: “Hey English guy”. I wondered how he knew I was from England? Perhaps it was my pale skin or an educated guess. He was carrying a big bottle of whisky and asked me if I wanted a drink. Of course, I declined, and replied that “it was too early for me’’. He then asked me to give him money. I said that “I am not stupid, as I know people get mugged here, so I don’t have any”. This was rather impetuous and stupid as I did have a small amount in reals in my pocket. He then became more persistent, and, during this impromptu attempted mugging, he flagged down a lobster seller and bought a piece to munch on. He then began to start pointing the skewer at my ribs and asking me for money. He felt my pocket to see if I had any. Then adrenaline took over and common sense flew out of the window. I took him by surprise and boomed “Hey, what are you doing?’ He then replied: “I have no problem with you” and walked off.

The moral of the story is that you should not take unnecessary risks. Just have a small amount of cash with you in case and hand it over. I had not thought it through and I had put myself in danger for the equivalent of ￡3. Afterwards, with the same money, I bought a super cheap replica Brazilian T. shirt from a vendor and played football on the sand (no mean feat) with some 15 year old Brazilians and scored a goal against them, who were brilliant of course, and whilst having a broken toe nail.

In fact, all the others from my youth hostel had been mugged near the beach the night before. Other tips are to stay away from here in the evening, spend beach days at Ipanema and Leblon beaches, which are guarded by armed guards, and don’t sit on your own on Copacabana beach.

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II. Frozen toes in the Andes: Bolivian Andes, 2000

Bus rides in Bolivia seem to add a few years to your life. If it’s not the death-defying drops with no barriers, and the nonchalant drivers who race up the mountains with blaring Latino music and religious paraphernalia all over the dashboard, it’s the actual buses breaking down.

Heaven’s above, the radio communications were playing up and we were stranded high in the Andes and the temperatures were dropping fast. All I had was a poncho to wrap around my poor footsies on top of a pair of socks and sandals and, yes, I was certainly not dressed for the cold. My stuff was all packed away in my bag, which was out of reach and out of the question as it was night-time, and it would have been impossible to get all the bags out from underneath; so I ruled this out. Somebody was kind enough to hand each of us a small snack, which we gratefully ate. This whole ordeal was a valuable lesson; always have some money in the currency of which you are passing through, if possible, and don’t forget to bring some emergency rations with you; I only had traveller’s cheques and no money I could use, which was not sensible, plus no nosh.

The passengers had to eat, so somebody made the decision to slaughter 4 large llamas and paid a farmer accordingly. I could not watch this grisly spectacle, felt sick to my stomach, and would not eat the poor animals. Luckily, for me, I was able to have some soup at an old lady’s humble abode instead. She also heated up a pot of water for a few us and, after really feeling the cold, drank the finest coffee I had ever had. We slept in the bus somehow, and in the morning my toes felt frozen. After stepping out and stretching, I ran backwards and forwards, somebody started a mini fire and I put my feet over the flames to try and warm up. The replacement bus arrived after a 13 hour wait! We were so relieved we cheered and got the hell out of dodge.

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III. Peruvian romance: Cusco, Peru, 2001-Casablanca, Morocco, 2002

It all began in Cusco one day and I met her at my hotel. She was working there for the tourist board selling souvenirs and such. We were attracted to each other and after showing her photographs of my journey so far, we hit it off and got to know each other better.

It soon became clear that she had to work much of the time, but she was flexible and could meet me in some of the places I was travelling to. I had the chance to experience Lake Titicaca; the highest lake in the world, which is a mystical place by the way, and see the reed boats and island, which was titillating enough. We almost met in Puno, the nearest city, but she got held up and it wasn’t to be. I had left a note for her at the hotel, and then moved to the next destination.

We were busy emailing each other on Hotmail at the time before Facebook and such things. It felt as though we were in love during this time and maybe that’s what it was. Then came one of the most impulsive decisions I had ever made and certainly the most na?ve. I wanted to propose to her at the next stage of this trip and alluded to the fact in a message. The place where we would meet was Arequipa: a really romantic and atmospheric Southern Peruvian city that has its own snow-capped volcano, Juanita, the ice-maiden (a mummified sacrificial victim of the Incas) and lots of colonial buildings.

She arrived after I had done enough waiting. With bouquet in hand and ring on her hand I proposed in Spanish and she said yes. This was a big deal for both of us and we had a great evening. We went to a lovely colonial restaurant and had some red wine. The next day we went on a day trip to Sabandia and visited the mill and walked around the picturesque countryside.

As tradition dictates, the man has to ask her family for her hand in marriage, which I did. I ironed my best shirt and wanted to make a good impression. We got on the bus and ended up at a very rudimentary dwelling on the outskirts of Lima. The whole family was there to see who this Englishman was. I played with some kids and swung them about. Apparently, their first impression of me was that I seemed childish as a result. Then, at the dinner table, I explained my intentions in Spanish and tried to be as poetic as I could about how I felt for her, and they all listened attentively and sat there transfixed. They were very hospitable to me, although, I was told in no uncertain terms, to take good care of her.

After I got back home from Peru, we stayed in contact on MSN Messenger for six months or so and, amazingly, she moved to London and still lives there now. First, she moved in with her aunt in Tulse Hill, which was not exactly the safest place, where, apparently, gunshots could be heard first thing in the morning. Then fast forward a bit, and she moved to a far nicer area near Camden. We saw each other at the weekends as it happened to be, and, then, the real test came: we went abroad together.

We began our trip together in Casablanca and before we had left the first city, we had broken up. We had not been used to living with each other or being around one another in such close quarters. We were too different and although I could be dogmatic, she would not compromise; we were both stubborn and fiercely independent.

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IV. They were wearing army fatigues: San Agustin, Colombia, 2001

Passing through known guerrilla territory, and whilst reading Gabriel Garcia Marques’ News of a Kidnapping on the bus, I couldn’t fail but notice that some men in army fatigues had just stopped the bus. As I sat there, I was quite worried as I did not know for sure which side these heavily armed fighters were on. As it happens, the book is about the FARC (revolutionary armed forces of Colombia) who were well-known Marxist-Leninist kidnappers. Recently (on 20th July 2016), they stopped their activities after they made peace with the government. I had read about Ingrid Betancourt, the Colombian Presidential candidate, whom they had held hostage for quite a spell.

All passengers were required to leave the bus, and I, as a foreigner, was asked to move away from the others. At this point, my life flashed before my eyes and I momentarily considered the possibility that I was being taken aside to be shot. I could see bullets and RPG launchers, grenades and, as, I looked for a symbol, I saw the ‘Colombian army’ badge at the top of a uniform. Those few minutes were some of the scariest I have ever been through, and when I saw who they were, I was so grateful, I couldn’t help but praise them and uttered something like: “the Colombian army are the best” in Spanish, and I am sure they realised that I was rather relieved. I found out that they had been looking for suspicious activity in the form of illegally transported weapons for revolutionary activity.

A year later, FARC was responsible for firing mortar bombs at the Presidential palace in Bogota. In Medellin I met two soldiers who spoke of their exploits against their greatest foe and one of them showed me a scar he had after being shot in the arm. Here is a comprehensive list of FARC attacks: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_attacks_attributed_to_FARC

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V. Before the Revolution: 8 hrs in police custody: Tunis, Tunisia, 2002

I saw a beautiful Ottoman palace and this time it wasn’t the Bardo museum: where they have the finest collection of mosaics that I have seen. I had spotted the Algerian embassy, and decided to take a snap. What I hadn’t realised is that this is one of the most sensitive and heavily guarded embassies in Tunis. Back in 2002, before the jasmine revolution and the toppling of the government, President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali was still the dictator in charge who was calling the shots.

As a tourist, one did not usually notice any of the injustices or improper treatment that locals must have experienced. The only big surprise had come in the form of culture-shock for me and my former partner; we had accidentally ended up in a men-only bar where alcohol was openly served with olives for snacks, but females, such as my Peruvian ex-fiancée, were not welcome. Once we understood the house-rules, I had to down two pints of beer and we made ourselves scarce.

So, when I innocently took the picture, I had no idea that all hell would break loose. First, I heard a whistle and a policeman signalled for me to come over. Then, he checked my passport and said “I do not like people from there”. I was annoyed by how confrontational he was, and soon I was to be taken to a police station and had to wait for a Sergeant to talk to me. After a long time, some detectives came to question me and I had to hand in my disposable camera. We then drove across town to the office of a Captain. This man was mean and kept pacing about and I fell asleep in his office as nothing happened for so long. Then, when I complained about how long it was taking, he yelled at a subordinate and I was taken to see the Commissioner of the Tunis police department. This gentleman was smartly dressed and spoke very good English. He apologised for how I had been treated and then told me that he had to keep the film in my camera. Unfortunately, I lost a lot more than just one picture of that beautiful building; all my pictures of Carthage were in there too.

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VI. Turning up unannounced at the house of Satyajit Ray: Calcutta, India, 2003

I had written my Bachelor’s thesis on the great humanist and classical Indian cinema director and late Brahmin Satyajit Ray (1921-1992), and found myself in Calcutta. Somehow, I thought it might be worth trying to see if I could visit his home and had tracked down his address from vague details in one of the books I had read about his life, and, more specifically, at the coffee place where he had spent so many afternoons discussing intellectual matters. Without further ado, I went there without an invitation; I was surprised to see Sandip Ray, the film-maker, who is also the maestro's son, standing there; he welcomed me in with open arms. Perhaps other fans who were Westerners had made the pilgrimage before.

I explained how I had written the thesis and we had a long chat about his father, some of his wonderful achievements and the films themselves. Sandip was kind and welcoming and his servant made me a cup of tea. He warmed to me and trusted me enough to show me, a stranger, the Golden lion award his pa had won for Aparijto in 1956, which is the top accolade a director can win at the Venice film festival. We both enjoyed talking together and I was humbled when presented with two copies of his father’s books that used to belong to the great man himself.

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VII: We have no record of your booking sir: Santiago de Cuba, 2005

Cuba has some incredible Spanish colonial architecture, and I had booked a hotel to stay in one of them. It was carnival time and was busy all over. I had made my way from Havana, where I had managed to stay at a tourist hotel, to find that this time there was no record of my online booking. I felt both powerless and speechless, and the taxi driver who had waited with me, had a suggestion. He thought I should go and stay with a family, which was my only option. All other accommodation was fully booked up for the carnival. So I bit my lip and went along. I was greeted by a man with a big belly and a birth mark right on his tummy. Surprisingly, his partner was wearing a top with the American stars ‘n stripes on it. They were nice folk but were clearly not happy. We spoke at length and we agreed on how much I had to pay. They did tell me that it was illegal and, if an inspector would come and find that I was staying there; they would be fined $500; a whole month’s salary.

I was not happy about the set-up, but accepted the situation and that was that. After some time had passed and I had gained their trust, they told me that they had pretended to be married in order to get the house free from the state. As Fidel’s communist ideals blared from the TV, I started to understand this country a bit more. This odd couple had family in the States, but were not allowed to see them. Most of Cuba’s decent food products were exported, much like how they were in other communist countries, and I learned that tourist hotels were able to get hold of better quality produce, for example. We went to the carnival together and I wondered if things would ever change in this country.

Since my trip in 2005, Cuba has seen a lot of change; diplomatic relations with the USA has returned with the US embassy in Havana, the embargo may be lifted some day, and travel restrictions have also eased. Still, Raoul Castro, Fidel’s brother is in charge, and communism is still very much part of the picture.

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VIII. Drinks with the Yakuza: Hiroshima, Japan, 2006

Innocently eating a bento whilst walking may seem a little decadent, but I managed to catch the attention of the local Yakuza inside a private meeting-place. I was beckoned in and thought nothing of it at the time. When I entered, I noticed that it was a group of Yakuza, from the characters I had seen in Takeshi Kitano films. I was respectful and spoke when spoken to. They were very curious to meet me, a Westerner with blond bleached hair in their neck of the woods. I didn’t mind the attention and shared jokes with a guy called Ryu who handed me his business card and told me he worked in import-export for the food industry. He looked quite tough, and I noticed that he had swollen knuckles; probably from punching people’s lights out; though I might have been mistaken. I did not feel threatened at any time. I also briefly met Mr Aniki, the boss, who was a quiet character, but had a powerful presence, and a ginger haired cat-like female hanger on, as well as the owner of the bar, who was known as mama-san.

Although, I did feel uncomfortable when I realised I did not have enough money with me to pay for my drinks. This could have been risky of course and my heart raced as I broke the news. I had more Yen back at the hotel and promised to bring the money tomorrow as it was late and I was tired. Thankfully, this was deemed respectable and I was not treated badly. The following day I kept my promise, and, as a genuinely nice gesture, I had a picture that had been taken of us all enlarged and presented it to the mama-san at the bar, and, to my delight, she hung it up for all to see.

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IX. What was that hole doing there?: Jakarta, Indonesia, 2013

Whatever happens, don’t read your guide book at night-time when walking the streets of Jakarta! I had innocently looked up the whereabouts of my hotel from my current position and then found the ground disappearing from beneath me. Shock – horror! I was falling, and couldn't stop it from happening. What went through my mind was that I was worried that there may be rats down in this sizeable ditch. I landed right on my shin and I didn’t want my precious Lonely Planet book to get dirty, but it was covered in mud.

This hole was so deep that I needed to be lifted out by two guys. They had seen me fall in and came to my assistance. I was shaking and in some pain. I had a couple of minor cuts and plenty of bruising. I hobbled around and was given a lift back to my hotel by a guy on a scooter. I thought that he was kind to take me there in my current state, but clearly displaying cuts and bruises and still in shock, was annoyed when he asked me to give him some money for the 5 minute journey. I gave him a tiny amount and felt he should have been ashamed. In hindsight, I realise he may have been poor, but right then I was not in a good mood. The owner of my hotel was surprised to see me looking so poorly.

The next day I bought myself a walking stick to help me walk and I used it for 1 and a half days; it felt strange, but really made a difference. I was also given a lift to the pharmacy by some well- wishers I had met at the hotel. As an extra step, I went to the thermal springs and sat in there to recuperate. It took a good week before I was back to normal; I count myself very lucky for not having broken anything.

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X. Panamanian Paranoia: David, Panama, 2014

I had had a strange time in David, a place you come to before the capital Panama City, when arriving from Costa Rica. Much to my amazement, the bus suddenly dropped me off in what could have been a dodgy area, with all my bags. I finally found out from a guy who had been jabbering away on the phone, that there was one final bus coming, so we took it. At the hostel, a man was standing in the bathroom, looking pale and acting strangely. When having a couple of beers with some German tourists, I found out that he had had a stroke. Next, the paramedics came, decided that he was not ill enough to go in the ambulance and left. Then, a guest, who was also a doctor, pronounced that he certainly should get medical assistance, propped him up and sent him to the hospital in a taxi.

I had had a long trip to get here and then all this after checking in and standing at a bar, I became hungry and found out that there was a 24 hour supermarket nearby. Unfortunately, a couple of drunk travellers came along, and I really wish I had ditched them back at the hotel. One of them foolishly kicked off one of his sandals and left it in front of somebody’s drive. We bought some fried chicken and, meanwhile in the store, the other guy kicked a bucket of water over and laughed, whilst I tried not to associate myself with them in any way. They were both eating crisps from opened packets before they paid. The final straw came on the way back when one of the two had to urinate behind a vehicle.

Then, before we knew it, there was some rustling in the bushes and, lo-and behold, a camouflaged army commando sergeant and his men were holding us at gun point. The leader barked at us to produce our passports. If anything, this is the take-away pearl of wisdom that could save you a night in jail; always carry your passport in Panama or face the consequences. Thankfully, we all happened to have them with us; Panamanian law states that any foreigner without one can automatically spend a night behind bars. One soldier began to itemise all that we had with us in bags, and when he said “fried chicken” in Spanish it was hard not to giggle, I have to admit. The German guys had some rum as well. In Panama they have a lot of trouble with drugs and are very strict, so they were making sure we were not drug smugglers or users I suppose. After all that, we were told to go back to the hotel and sleep, and the patrol disappeared into the night.

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Chaos at the Airport, Hong Kong, 2019

‘’Due to disruptions at HK airport’’, said the pilot, ‘’the airline, has decided to land in Kaohsiung, Taiwan’’. After hearing this bombshell mid-flight from Tokyo on board a Cathay Pacific flight, once we landed, we had to surrender our passports to immigration. Next thing we knew, we were staying at a 5-star hotel in a suite no less. Two flawless buffets later, and, after being reunited with our passports, we were finally off to Hong Kong a day later than planned.

This former colony has been experiencing a lot of problems recently. Due to the fact that the government wanted to bring forward legislation for an extradition treaty whereby anybody no matter where they are from could be extradited to mainland China. This, in turn, led to demonstrations, which have continued ever since. Some of which had been violent allegedly involving triads, police and other chaotic scenes such as the complete takeover of the legislative building by some of the more radical types. The demonstrators want the treaty to be withdrawn, (which has happened more recently) an investigation into the police brutality, Carrie Lam, the Chief Executive to resign, the authorities to cease using the word ‘rioters’ to refer to them, which can incur heavy sentences of 10 years per person, release those arrested and grant greater freedoms.

When we arrived, there were only a few peaceful demonstrators sitting on the floor at the airport and we went about our business. The regal airport hotel acted honourably by not charging us for the no-show that was last night; so, we rebooked for tonight on the spot.?

In the evening, the mood, on the other hand, had changed in the main hall of the airport as large crowds of more radical demonstrators could be heard chanting. In fact, we had seem a few of them on the airport express train from Kowloon gearing up with masks to hide their identities and they looked really jumpy as you might expect. Anyhow, we didn’t like the atmosphere, so decided to leave the building. Later, I discovered that a man suspected of being a spy for mainland China had been rendered unconscious and denied medical help. Also, a policeman had pulled out a gun; not to mention foreign tourists being blocked from leaving the country, which caused big problems. All of this made it difficult to sleep, especially due to the uncertainty ahead.

On the last day, thanks to the newly proclaimed court ruling thanks to the night before, only those with travel documents could leave the airport today. Although I have sympathy for those who have been coming onto the streets for 15 weeks now, we were grateful we were able to fly home.

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Special Feature

*** Unesco poems***

Featuring:?????????????

Teotihuacan Aztec temples, Mexico 1995-Maccu Piccu, Peru 2001-Angkor, Cambodia 2003-Taj Mahal, India 2003-Mayan pyramids, Mexico & Hondurus 2014

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Teotihuacan, Mexico, 1995

Dad had to work and I was allowed,

to go myself and I felt proud.

The guide was a film extra,

and was full of character.

The sun temple was the highest,

there was no need for biast.

It features in the film Frida,

When Trotsky really fancies her.

A man let his donkey drink coke,

and that isn’t even a joke.

We saw the site where they had played the ancient ball game,

If a player’d missed the ball they’d always get the blame.

Maccu Piccu, Peru, 2001

I awoke at 4 to climb up the summit,

for altitude, coca leaf will numb it.

It was pitch dark and menacing from below,

the bus left at 7, so I stayed down low.

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The mystery is how did they get these rocks,

all the way up here and not in their socks.

The Incas understood astronomy like you wouldn’t believe,

The trapezoidal architecture’s so perfect, good grief

The Inca Trail,

is part of the tale.

Where bare-footed messengers were the craze,

and lovely furry llamas like to graze

Take a mule to Sacsuayman

if you will.

Scale Ollantaytambo - there is no rope,

but take care coming down the slope.

Angkor, Cambodia, 2003

In Ta Phrom, trees swallow up what’s man-made

Huge roots on top of what had been laid.

Green is the predominate colour

Making other sites look duller

To see Angkor Wat at sunset is a treat,

architecture that’s withstood the heat.

Symmetry and majesty

Open air Khmer

Bayon is the one with many a big head,

clusters of Buddhist busts that are well spread.

This place does get my vote,

go now or miss the boat.

Taj Mahal, India 2003

A labour of love,

see it with the stars up above.

To appreciate it best,

take your love as guest.

Mayan Pyramids: Chichen Itza-Mexico and Copan, Hondurus 2014

From above, the high priest would clap his hands,

and the sound would reverberate below.

The Mayans traded with other lands,

and got the attention of both friend and foe

Copan was a mission

Twas a great decision

Dad had been more than 50 years ago

I’d say If you choose one, give it a go

There are serpent heads on stairs,

solid walls and hidden layers.

On the way you may have to stay in……

San Pedro Sula: one of the most dangerous cities day or night,

I suggest you stay indoors, where you won’t see as much as a fight.