California knows how to party!
Day 130 Los Angeles
| I finally had a chance to wear my sandals and shorts again. I drove over to the beach area and sat in the sun. It was still pretty cold but at least the temperature had seemed to increase by 15 degrees in a day. It didn’t seem like SD was going to happen for me though and rather than fight it I decided to text Bonnie in Los Angeles as a backup to the mail I had sent her through Couchsurfing the previous day. It was a good job I texted as my mail was still in transit and she was happy to put me up for a while while I decided on my plan. That morning I spotted a post on the Couchsurfing site from a girl called Sheena who was in San Fransisco and looking for a lift down to Mexico. Seemed like good timing since she was heading to LA after the weekend. Hopefully I wouldn’t be driving all the way south on my own…. LA was supposedly a couple of hours away and it was 1am by the time I set off. The freeways were suddenly busy after all the empty ones in the south and gas prices were pretty crazy now. $3.40 a gallon was not uncommon, but my green girl was thirsty and thats what I had to pay. Not wanting another ticket I drove with my main beam on and hoped I wouldn’t get busted for that. The traffic was simply awful and I had no chance of getting into LA before sunset. The interstate seemed endless and the traffic was stop and go for two hours. I finally got to the cause which was a 3 car pileup in the car pool lane and then I could finally speed up the last 5 miles into the downtown area. |  |
Being a bastard, all day…
tap tap tap….
tap tap tap….
tap tap tap….
oh god, no prizes for guessing who was knocking on my door. I was buggered if
i was getting up or even answering, I was on holiday! There was an outside
chance it was someone from the hotel but I wasn’t going to rick making a
sound. Eventually it stopped and I went back to sleep. I had already bee
woken up twice that morning. It was early and the sun was shining when my fan
went off. I had it tucked under my mosquito net, since even on high it sent
no air through it from the outside. I suspected it was intentional because
shortly later it restarted along with a choir singing nearby. The church was
only 30m from my hut, and although the singing was pleasant, for some reason
someone started drumming along and it sounded like he had to hit every one at
least once every 4 bars. I’ve never heard heavy metal hymns before, but its
not the alarm clock you really need.
She collared me when I got up for brunch, I told her I had my ear plugs in
and she believed me. I sat and read, ignoring her or giving one word answers.
She kept going on about walking to the castle at Dixcove in the next bay or
going to smoke ganja, I refused, then she started asking for a coke, I told
her I didn’t have enough money (which was pretty true) and she relented, god
knows she wasn’t going to pay for it herself! I went for a swim, she waited
on the beach for me (her costume was still festering in a plastic bag in my
room and I didn’t gove her a chance to get it. i stayed in the sea for about
an hour, but she still didn’t leave. I got out to do my laundry, she kept
going on and on about how the hotel would do it for my and I pay them. No
shit… Im quite capable of washing a few clothes, not getting charged a
fortune and not having to wait a whole day to get them back. I really should
have brought more money with me and didn’t want to leave the next day from
lack of funds. I did my laundry, eve washed her bikini at her insistence. She
was very impressed to see me doing women’s work with such skill. I guess she
could already see herself relaxing in England while her rich husband did all
the chores and looked after the babies. Um……
I hung my clothes (and her bikini) outside and sat down to read some more. The
place was dead and it was still the weekend, I was thinking maybe Ghana was a
mistake and where were the people to have fun with? I was stuck in a
beautiful place with a motor mouth pain the arse who wouldn’t take a hint and
leave me alone! I went for another swim to get away, she was still going on
about the castle, ganja and coke. When I got out she was gone, it was late
afternoon now, I went took a shower and had a walk up to the resort for a
look. Nice…. if there were some guests… place was deader than a vultures
dinner. I went for a pancake at ‘Daniel the pancake man’ place by the school.
They had a nice sign by the road encouraging people to come and find it but
it was locked. Someone came over to open it and I wish i had’t bothered. It
was like a empty house with a few tables and chairs. Lord know when the last
time someone had eaten there, it needed some sprucing up. I loved the posters
of huge houses and expensive cars that awaited the faithful, just believe in
god and you can be a millionaire was the general theme. Well, millionaire in
Ghana is easy, just go to the cash point. I got my pancake (no honey,
finished) and hot coffee (I don’t know what I was thinking asking for it
iced…) which was ok, at least the juju girl wouldn’t find me here. I gave
the local boys a quick lesson about what would happen during the eclipse and
erroneously told them there would be no totality in Busua. Too many people
think white men know everything, so Im happy to shatter that illusion. Then
they wanted to know about making a web site. Ok, credit for moving with the
times but no one is going to look at their website and say ‘honey, lets have
our honeymoon in Busua so we can eat at Daniels every night!’. I gave them a
few hints, ie google it and find some free hosting sites but I managed to get
out before offering to do it myself. I wish them all the luck in the world
but I still wonder how they manage their rent each year.
They weren’t the only people having problems with rent. I hid in my room
until 10pm and sneaked out for some food at Nana’s again. He wasn’t a happy
man, it seemed his landlord had raised his rent by 25% that year and only
told him when it was due. Which was 2 weeks ago, and now he was making a
stink about it. I was sensing a scam, what exactly did he want, money? I got
him to explain it again, and it turns out he wants me to talk to his landlord
and ask for a bit more time. That I can do! … um, can I? Barely
understanding the full story he takes me around the corner to speak to some
middle aged guy who wants his cash, 2 weeks ago. Bizarre. I put it to him,
all the facts, appeal to his christian spirit, since after all we’re all men
of god…. right. Still Im obviously well qualified to present his case,
being white and all (!), and he agrees. Nana feels the weight of the word
lift from his shoulders and say Im his best friend. I go to bed with a clear
conscience.
Actually I go to bed thinking ‘what the f**k was that all about??’
Beach Life, it’s the only life I know…
early (for me) the next day it was time for the beach. And time for my first
encounter with that legendary Ghanaian mode of transport, the Tro-Tro! Got to
the Tro station, ask a few people where the tro to angona leaves from and get
on board. Its basically a minibus with fold up seats in the aisles of varying
sizes. They leave when they are full or more than full. People use them to
transport themselves and everything all over the country. You wouldn’t want
to be in one in a crash as there is no escape, but if you want to get about
and don’t want to charter taxis everywhere its the only way. Sadly the usual
method of counting if it is full is to get you on board and wait for it to
fill up. No aircon and 40°, not a fun way to spend 20 minutes of your life.
But cheap, even if you’re forced to pay a fare for your bag, but 25p ×2 for a
20km ride is better than waiting more than an hour for the next one so they
can shove you bag under a seat.
A short taxi ride from agona later and I was by the beach. I checked into
Alaska hotel, into a round mud hut type place by the beach and went off to
find the party…. The beach was huge, the hangout area by the beach was busy
from Ghanaians down for the weekend, but after a good wander up and down there
were probably 15 white people in the village. Some party! And the weekend was
the busy time, I really don’t know how half the places could survive. Still,
the beach was a couple of kms long, clean and fine sand, waves good enough
for body surfing, all i needed was a bit of romance… or so I thought!
I sat down to read by the beach, I got harassed by the juice man for 10 mins
until I agreed to purchase his bottle of ‘fresh’ juice (i just caved, it was
too expensive but he was so insistent… and annoying), too much money os
spoiling me on these trips. Ah. peace and quiet, with only the sound of three
frenchmen drinking wine and throwing water at each other. A Ghanaian girl sat
down next to me and we began the usual exchange of name, travel information,
liking ghana, home country, same old same old. After 30 minutes of this she
suggested we go for a walk along the beach. I thought ‘why not, im not doing
anything else important’. She said she was a 23 student on holiday for 3
weeks, studying catering in the nearby city of Takoradi. I wasn’t so sure but
prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt. The place wasn’t exactly
brimming with people to talk to and I was feeling slightly lonely I admit.
However this is normal state of affairs when you travel alone, a few days of
not knowing anyone, trying to make some suitable friends, chatting to people
and never seeing them again, not chatting to some guy on his own and then
seeing him with 2 pretty girls a week later… Quite normal. We walked along
the beach towards the nearby headland, children playing on the sand, local
fishermen repairing nets their boats pulled up out the tide. Again I was
asked if I wanted to smoke ganja, I replied no. This would be a frequent
theme in out conversation. There are 3 reggae bars along that stretch of
coast, and its not easy to guess their main cash crop (especially considering
the cost and quality of the pancake I ordered at the start of typing this. 1
hour later I got 3 tasty pancakes, far too much to manage for breakfast, I
only wanted one, a room temperature banana shake (which also took an hour to
come… or rather an hour to warm up) and since I foolishly didn’t ask for
the cost, a bill for £4!)
We walked over to the Black Mamba restaurant, run by a local guy and a german
woman, didn’t see the woman but the guy was friendly enough. They had a huge
sty full of pigs, chickens and vultures…. Well, I guess the vultures were
free to leave but it was a strange combination of bed fellows. Sitting at
the headland for what I thought was a quick rest and look at the view
produced a menu and offer of refreshment, Angela could hardly contain her
disappointment that the Guinness (the most expensive drink) was finished. She
had to settle for Star beer, and since the water was also finished (!) me
too. We sat and chatted about this and that, while I just wanted to get back
to my book, she said how we would have to go and visit the fort in the next
village together and, alarmingly, how she would love to come north with me
since we both had such long holidays. Obviously Im not used to 23 year old
girls throwing themselves on my generosity so much but I didn’t really fancy
bank rolling this girls holiday. Ok, if she had been stunningly good looking
or not such a motor mouth I might have considered it, but I hadn’t brought
that much cash with me and there was no ATM for 20 miles, so I was in danger
of going broke after a few days myself.
It was late afternoon still and we walked back to the beach and had to visit
her ‘brother‘ who just happened to work at one of the reggae bars, and just
happened to be cutting up a huge slab of weed into a plastic bag. I saw this
and then some guy with a uniform showed up, Angela said he was he police, it
was ‘no problem!’, Yeah…. right! Mary Jane is illegal in ghana like most
countries and I set off for a brisk walk back down the beach. Just because
Angela (like Mark before her) tells me that she would never let anything
happen to me is no comfort at all when you’re banged up in some filthy cell.
I suspect that thailand would be luxurious compared to a moderately affluent
african country! I didn’t want to go back to hers to collect her swim suit
but she just happened to have a ‘auntie’ nearby who had one. Damn, I managed
to get some peace since she couldn’t swim by going out into the surf, but she
stayed in the shallows lurking like a hungry shark waiting for me to go back
in.
Sometimes I really hate being English, I suppose an Australian or American
would have told her to ‘f**k off and leave me alone’, but Im too polite so I
decided to revert to the classic tactic of being rude and uncommunicative
until she left me alone. I suspected she wasn’t a student after all,
reinforced by her attempts to get ‘friendly’ in the surf. Not the ‘summer
lovin’ I was really looking for! It was interesting to watch the fishermen
bring in the catch of the day by a dozen or so guys pulling in the nets from
500m out in the bay, they ended up with loads of barracuda as the little kids
scrabbled for the tiny discarded fish. Still Angela was telling me to come
here, do that, lets go but I did my best to ignore her. I took a shower after
my swim and then she insisted she get changed in my room. Great. I could
hardly leave her in there with all my stuff lying around, she probably
wouldn’t nick anything but I wasn’t gonna take that risk.
It was awful, I took of my trunks and then she asked if I was ashamed of my
body because I didn’t turn around! I got dressed, had to give her my sarong
to use and then kept asking why I wasn’t looking at her. Because you’re naked
as the day you were born and I don’t want to give you any encouragement? Then
I said I was tired and needed a nap, so did she… was there any escape? ‘Im
tired, I need peace and quiet’, ‘its ok, I just lie here, feel free!’. No
you’re not! I kicked her out, although she left her bikini behind, for the
obvious reason of coming back to get it, even though i put it in her hands
since it was so obvious. I locked my door, closed the windows and crawled
under my mosquito net to watch a film on my PSP. About 2 hours later there
came a tapping at the door, light but insistent, I held my breath and waited.
I was wearing my earphones so she couldn’t hear me, I hoped… I gave it
another half an hour, dressed and ran out to the main road. Hoping she wasn’t
lurking nearby.
I dined in great luxury at Zweite Heimat, home of the legendary Nana, such a
sweet and gentle guy you could’nt hope to meet anywhere else. He prepared me
a lovely fresh barracuda with rice and tomato sauce. I sipped a cold beer and
nodded to the people passing on the street. I was very exposed, it was right
next to the main junction in thu village, Angela could be using her juju
right then to track me down, but she never showed up. I finished my meal,
complemented the chef paid and went to leave. Nana insisted he clean my dirty
hands because of the fish. I told him I only used my cutlery but he insisted,
running off to buy some lemons which he put on my table. So I waited and
waited, he came back and cut one in half, then I waited some more… My hands
weren’t even sticky so I grabbed him, shook his hand and said good night, the
legendary hand wash people had written about all over his walls would have to
wait. I brushed my teeth, locked my door and slipped into a restless uneasy
sleep…
Road trip!
I managed to crawl out of my sweaty room in time for a quick breakfast of
chocolate spread on bread and milo. The woman looked at me like i was mad for
wanting food at 11.30! I had decided to head down the coast, apparently
busua was a backpacker mecca in Ghana, surely there would be parties and
beach volleyball, chicks in bikinis and guitars around the fire. Perfect! I
grabbed a taxi and headed for the STC bus station, after allowing several
people to push in front of me, I shrugged off my stupid british way of
queuing and got a ticket for the 2pm bus to Takoradi. It was 12.30pm, I asked
the helpdesk where the bus left from and the woman said the 12pm bus was just
there and I could get on that one. Result! I climbed on and off we went right
away.
No A/C and I sat right at the front so the view was pretty crap, but at least
I was getting out of boring accra. I could already smell the banana pancakes!
The road was excellent for 2 hours but after that it was being repaired and in
variable condition. People would be selling things at the toll booths and
police check points, hawking pineapples and dead bush animals at the side of
the road. Not much in the way of jungle really, lots of foliage but not the
thick jungle you’d expect in a rainy country like ghana. It was nearly dark
by the time I got to the city of Takoradi, so I got a room, went for a meal
of red-red and read another novel on my phone. Restaurant service was
typically poor, order a drink and a meal and sit there for 15 mins before
going up to get your own drink. The reason, the sprite was finished, so
obviously i didn’t want anything else….
The hotel was a dump, but it was cheap, the batteries on my phone died after
being used all day on the bus and although there was a plug in the room, the
cable to it was inextricably cut. The guy on duty knew all about it and
showed me, quite why they couldn’t be bothered to fix it I’ll never know…
Playing doctor
My only task today was to charge my depleted camera batteries with the inverted we replaired, but we had to top up the batteries and let the sun do its thing first. One of the dogs ate a chick which was a shame. The only other thing of note was one of the staff telling Dom one of the other guys had been stung on the lower lip by a hornet and did we have any drug for it. I went and found some anti-histamines and gave it to him. He looked in a bad way, his lip was massive! Apparently he asked Dom later if there was anything he could take and Dom had to suppress a laugh and saying ‘Yes, a photograph!’. Would have made a nice one! :p Luckily it wasn’t the carpenter/cook so we had another couple of stunning meals to keep us going. Shame the beer wasn’t cold, but you can’t have it all. There was a delivery of Coke from the local boat um, I looked for unusual rocks on the beach. We played Ludo for a bit… I was perfetly bored and perfectly happy. There was nothing to be done, but I had gorillas to trek soon so it was getting time to more on. The next day would be time to leave, and I absoutley positively had to get on the road south on monday!
Tags: photographs, shame, beaches, locals, lips, drugs, boats, rocks, sun, beers, TravelLazy day
It rained in the morning and when I dragged myself up I found everyone eating breakfast in the room next to the dorm. It looked like a building site but I spotted a Yamaha acoustic guitar and made a mental note to check it out later. After breakfast I got out my tuner I was carrying with me (you never know…) and had a go and getting it in tune. Once I had oiled one of the pegs broke a string, restrung it with the part left ad gone through the tuning up again it sounded… awful! And it wasn’t just me, the neck had actually been broken on a boat ride and Dom had rescued it and glued it back together. I guess he shouldn’t have bothered because you could tell it was f**ked. I gave it up and returned to the routine of reading, wandering around, making coffee and skinning up. It rained a bit more later on but soon the sun made a comeback. We had evening drinks on top of Doms ‘castle’, discussing in depth how to destroy the evil local fishermen who were stealing all the islands fish. Lots of fish eagles circled overhead as the sun went down and right on cue, thousands of fruit bats lifted off from the forest in the jungle in search of their evening meal. Then we retired back to the beach and sat around chatting until it was late. ‘Nother perfect boring day!
Tags: sun, jungle, boats, locals, wanderings, circles, rainRobinson Crusoe meet Survivor
I dragged myself up at a very respectable 11 am and wandered down to the beach in search of breakfast. Everything looked very nice in the morning, the guys were playing backgammon, the three dogs were racing about as they do and Steves daughter, Lisa, or Busy as he always called her, was poking things with a stick. There was some breakfast left so I grabbed some and sat down to watch the game. Seems like they do this quite regularly and apparently once a year there is a tournament. I sat drinking coffee and listening to the rambling commentary that unaccompanied every game, each roll and move being dissected. The island was about 1 km by 2 km, and although it is possible to walk all around it, it is kind of tricky in places and Dom had never bothered. It was probably easier to kayak or sail around it and there were several wrecks of water vehicles all in a state of near ruin. The pirate ship, a sail-less catamaran, a small dingy, and several windsurfers with no sails. There was also a blue kayak which looked the best bet, but only had a single paddle, the kind for rafting, not the kind for kayaking. I wasn’t going sailing then, and Lake Victoria is full of Bilharzia which attacks your internal organs anyway, so it was probably just as well.
I did my laundry as it was that time of the trip and relaxed for the rest of the day, reading and wandering around. Dom had built himself a huge house, but it was half finished, another in a long line of semi abandoned projects and ideas. His latest invention was a huge long drop toilet in a big round hut, with the toilet dominating the structure. I didn’t quite understand the logic of spending so much time and effort on one big building for crapping, especially when the more vital parts of the facilities were in such a state of disrepair but I’m sure he knows what he is doing. The island was dotted with buildings, some with solar panels supplying low energy lighting during the night. The bulb in the toilet worked intermittently, I suspect someone had left it on. They also had a couple of solar ovens which reflect the heat of the sun onto a pot in the centre of the dish. Nice.
I had overheard a girl ask at the bar in Red Chilli the day before about Banda and chatted to her briefly and it seemed she was arriving later on that night as planned along with her boyfriend and someone called Dan. We hoped it was short for Danielle :p The fire was built, the sun went down, we ate a rather nice diner and sat waiting for them, amusing ourselves taking long exposure photographs with my camera.
Still it seems to take forever, the boat owner texted to say they were about to arrive but we still didn’t hear the boat for another hour. Finally they bobbed into view and we lit up the fire and swung paraffin balls around our heads. Dom managed to miss his head this time :p
They also swung around to the other side and pulled up to a jetty of rocks in the bay and …. sat there. No one said anything to anyone, no greeting, no waves, we just sort of sat there looking at each other as well as you can by lantern light. Freaky. I think they were expecting the Spanish guys that were heading over to another island to do or say something. They must have been mad anyway. I was 11 pm and they had another 2 hours to go before being dropped off on a deserted beach before walking 2 km over the island in the dark. And crazily there is a new ferry that takes them most of the way during the day for the same price!
Eventually the Israeli couple got off along with Dan, a fellow pom. We all hiked over to get fed and watered and have a good chat. They all rejected the dorm which was good, but since I had the only working toilet on the island I would to be see plenty of them passing through :p I guess they were just as freaked out by the strange set up as I was, with Dom ranting off at random tangents, but at least he wasn’t as pissed as the night before. Steve and Dom were actually desperate to get to bed, and I wasn’t that far behind, although I had the benefit of more sleep. Another beer and we all sloped off to bed, another shitty day in paradise.
Tags: toilet, madness, beaches, huts, greetings, crap, toilets, photographs, kayaks, possiblity, girls, catamaran, sleep, dishes, dorms, drinks, TravelParanoia!
Hmmm, looked like I was the only guest, or everyone else was off partying
somewhere else. In any case I had no choice as the boat was shoved off the
beach and i was now stranded! We walked over to the other beach where the
bonfire was still burning and I was presented with my supper. Dom talked the
entire time, showing me where I could help myself to drinks and where I
should mark my tally. He was slightly worse for wear having apparently spent
most of the day drinking, Steve was also pretty drunk and had arrived earlier
on with his daughter for one of their regular marathon backgammon sessions. I
told Dom in my text that I only ate fish, but he somehow interpretted that as
not eating fish. Anyway I got some beans and chapattis which I washed down
with a bottle of warm beer. I refused the local liquer which apparently ‘make
you more intelligent’ after finding out they reckoned it still had plenty of
non alcoholic chemicals in it.
Instead I ws presented with a huge tin box of, um, shall we say happy plant?
Assured there were no police present on a virtually deserted island on Lake
Victoria I threw caution to wind and helped myself. Well i didn’t want to
appear rude to my host did I? Dom had a severe case of verbal diarrea and
never shut up. However I learn some valuable facts, he was born in 61, had
owned the island for over a decade, unmarried, couldn’t stand people who
pissed him (and everyone else) off and had evicted several such ‘guests’ in
his time, had made his fortune in minerals and mining and had actually bought
the island to mine it. More facts would be forthcoming in the foloowing days,
but since he had a tendancy to bullshit it was not always possible to
seperate fact from fiction.
For instance, is there a village of locals on the other side? Did he really
have 18 people in his employ at one point? Did he really build the pirate
ship abandoned on one of the beaches and sail it up from Tanzania? Other
incredible stories would be related in the following days, but he seemed
friendly enough if rather pissed. Steve said goodnight and went off to bed
leaving me and Dom to admire the moonlit lake with only the lapping of the
waves, nocturnal insects and Doms inceasingly bizzare comments to break the
silence. We had a few more smokes and if I was feeling worse for wear I can
only imagine what it was like for Dom he was absolutley mashed! I got up and
said I had better get some sleep. ‘Ok, sleep well!’ he said. Um, someone had
taken my backpack, apparently to the dorm, and I had no idea where that was!
After three attempts Dom somehow managed to get up and we staggered off into
th jungle in search of the dorms. ‘Gravel is good’ he said as we crunched
along with only my weak mini-maglite to show us the way. Things were rustling
all around us and up ahead there was a building either in a state of
disrepair or being used as a lumber yard. We negotiated ourselves up the side
of the building and around the large stairs on the outside to find ourselves
in the dorms. Outside was a rather grubby toilet with an equally grubby
shower room across from it with 8 bunks just inside. Thankfully my backpack
was sitting next to a made bed. Not having seen the movie ‘Hostel‘ but
knowing it was about a crazy murderous backpacking place was probably worse
as my imagination is always in overdrive when Im stoned. What a whacky place,
and when dom suggested he sleep in one of the other bunks rather than walk
back to his house I was certain I was going to be murdered. It reminded me of
how Ewan McGregor felt when they were met in the middle of the night by some
hotellier and taken to some weird place. I lay there imagining that all the
scariest horror stories are ones that you never read about, because they
actually happen and after being chased through the jungle and hacked up by a
machette and eaten, there is no one left to tell the tale.
With these happy thoughts, I somehow drifted off to sleep… only to be woken
up by strange scratching noises, things moving around, distinctly non hippo
sounds this time. It seemed to be all around me, something was coming to get
me, and it sounded like it had talons, bright eyes, furry coat, huge tongue,
a big wagging tail… I remembered Dom telling my that the dogs used the
upstair room as a bedroom. Looks like I was going to make it, going cross
eyed by keeping an eye on each of the doors on opposite sides of the rooms I
somehow fell back asleep….
The Legend of Banda Island
 did some research on how to get to Banda and found I had plenty of time, I
texted the number on the internet as confirmed by a poster in the hostel and
headed into town for breakfast and to find out where the bus left from. I
didn’t want to be wandering clueless around the main minibus station like I
had done in Accra and gettng hassled by touts and everyone while carrying my
backpack but Kampala was amazingly organised with signs giving destinations
and minibuses fillng up and others waiting their turn. They even didn’t fill
the buses to more than capacity, which is nice in a fatal crash! I burned off
a couple of CDs of my photos so far and went back to Masala for fish curry.
Yum, but Dom on the island still hadn’t gotten back to me and it was getting
late. I texted him again, asking him to confirm I would be able to come.
Turning up on some random island with no idea of where it is, if anyone will
be there to greet me (or more importantly cook for me :p) or how the hell I
will get back is an adventure too far even for me (although it would be
cool!).
I went back to the Hostel and just when I was thinking I was going to have to
give it a miss I got 2 identical texts in short succesion telling my to get
the boat ‘Big Fish’ at 3 or 4. Hmmmm, it was 3.38 when I got them so getting
to the harbour in 20 minutes was going to be a problem. I ordered a taxi and
headed into town after first stowing my most valuable items in my video
camera’s underwater housing. African boats eh….? Typically the most time
was spent getting the minibus out of the bus park but once going it wasn’t
too far. The pier is down near the Airport, about 30km most of it on a nice
sealed road with only the occasional goat, chicken or child to get in the way.
Down at the pier I followed the instructions on the Internet and went to the
shipping container cafe with the Banda sign to wait. And wait. And wait some
more… I am a patient guy, but some idea of when we were leaving is always
nice. Still I guess I was better off there than getting dragged onto some
random boat by people occasionally wanting me to come with them. At about
6.30pm I was told to get up and go, some guy with arms like steel cables
would carry me to the boat, give him 500 no more. After he carried me over he
wanted 5000! Despite being there while the cafe owner told me in front of him
to only pay 500. I gave them 1000 for me and my bag and turned my back. It
was a lovely evening, lets go!! hmmm, more waiting….
The sun sunk low in the sky, more people got on, they loaded more stuff, lots
of ice and still we waited. At least there was no danger of sunburn, the sun
then set! It was 2 days to the full moon though and it shone in the Africa
sky. I kept singing that Paul Simon song t myself off Gracelands
‘homeless, homeless, moonlight sleeping on a midlight lake’
Not quite midnight but it might as well have been.
At 7.43pm it was fully night and we sent off! …. for 100 meters anyway,
until the engine died. Not a good start by my standards, however at least we
couldn’t load more stuff! They fiddled with the engine for 10 minutes and
got it going again. I was soothed by the fact they had a spare engine on
board, although why should they need one….? We chugged out of the little
bay and off into Lake Victoria, the pilot seemed to know where he was going
as he pointed it into the inky blackness and kept the same course with
nothing to guide him. I sat and read ‘The name of the rose’ on my phone,
squashing my backpack and trying to relax. It was slightly rough when we
started but the wind died down and so did the swell. Most people fell asleep
(including the 2 babies on board).
I could see a light twinking in the distance and slowly vague island shapes
emerged from the horizon but we were going very slowly. Just before 11pm we
came near the island with the light and people were scrurrying on the beach,
there was a parafin induced whoosh and someone lit a bonfire followed by some
burning ball and chains being spun around madly. Looked like I had arrived,
only we went right past and kept going… I asked the pilot but he just
ignored me, he obviously knew what he was doing so I let him get on with it.
He pulled around the headland and into the next bay, someone came and
collected my pack and i jumped into knee high water. Dom and his friend Steve
were there to greet me on the beach, ‘Welcome to Banda!’.
 To be Continued….
Welcome to the Oven
After I had bought my flight I sent them a text saying I had bought a laptop off Ebay and it was in Dubai, hence they could bring it home with them. This was of course a lie, but I didn’t know where they we and what their plan was each day. It worked rather too well as Mum was thinking it could be a bomb or something dodgy. My parents were even rowing about it in the hotel all the time. I was spoiling their holiday before I even got there ;p I sent another text outside the hotel telling them the guy was waiting in reception and wearing a white hat. I also told dad to video him :p So he turns up with the boys and is too busy videoing to notice its me! I guess if he had a high definition camera he woud have realised right away. The hotel was something else, at least compared to my usual standard. Five stars, loads of staff all saying hello and ready to run around for you, calling you sir and opening doors. Quite a change. I went upstairs to the room to suprised Mum, Louise and Steven. I dont know what was ging through her mind when I was saying ‘Laptop for Mrs Towner’ with a middle eastern accent outside the door. Sadlly for them they hadn’t bee upgraded to a suite or villa but the room was plenty big enough with a great view of the beach and the Burj hotel, the worlds only 7 star hotel. I didn’t go for a look but apparently its very posh! You have to get dressed up to go over, so that was me barred :p We went to see how much it would cost to add me to the room and went for breakfast. Thus started the general routine for the net 3 days. Breakfast, then down to the pool for a while, a hour or two in the Wild Wadi with the boys, a drink at the swim up bar in the executive club pool, afternoon tea at 3pm for an hour, back to the pool until late. Then free drinks and snacks in the executive club room followed by dniner. They loved it, after 2 days I was kinda bored, so after dinner in some pizza joint I excaped from the ungrateful tourists and jumped onto a bus on the main road. Destination : anywhere…. I ended up at the Marina and had a good trek around, there wasnt much to see but the skyline was filled with cranes and half completed buildings. It was 11pm and everyone was hard at work, I guess the place will be finished next year and look completely differrent. I wandered around for 30 minutes and then hopped in another cab. I just told him to drive, go left here, straight on, whatever. But when I found I didnt know where to go and we were going in circles I said to go to the city centre. Well that kind of worked bcause he was now happy we had a destination, but the shopping centre called ‘City Centre’ wasn’t xactly what I wanted. It was after 12 by now and it was still open! I went for a look around and to see if I could find a cold drink. Most of the places were shutting up, but I found some fresh mango juice after futiley trying to get the big supermarket to let me in to get a can of coke. Stupid jobs-worths, i only needed 1 minute. However, watching a load of DUbai residents finishing up their shopping wasn’t really what I had in mind so I went out ad jumped in another taxi to try to find the place I had passed by twice in previous taxis. The guy had no idea where it was, but we drove around and eventually I found an interesting built up area called Nasser Square so I jumped out there and went for a look. Even at 1am it was still pretty busy, with plenty of shops and restaurants open and severing, but you could see the place was windng down. Pity I wasn’t there earlier… Even in the middle of the night it was roasting hot, without all the oil and air con the place would be unbearable. It seemed everyone was just scurrying from air con island to island. Walking is impossible, the car is king. All my taxi drivers were indian or pakistanis, everyone working at te hotel were from all over the world, except dubai. A truely international county, but completely transient. They spend billions on building their tourism industry, but who will come when there is no oil to power the planes?
Tags: tourists, laptop, pool, Travel, wanderings, supermarket, beaches, laptops, pizza, circles, stupidity, drinksMoney?
When I woke up, the bikini was gone! Not quite as funny as my crap joke about
dreaming I was eating a giant marshmallow and when I woke up my pillow was
gone, but i felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders. Not taking any chances
I skipped breakfast (couldn’t afford it anyway) and skipped all the way to
the next village. My guidebook said lots of people got robbed on the way
there so I left everything behind apart from a few quid in my pocket and
pinned a bit more emergency cash inside my shorts. I think this was before
the road was built as I could imagine walking along a path in the jungle
would be now quite as safe as the road that is now there.
Ah real village life I thought, not a hotel in the place so obviously no semi
permanent white residents. A proper little fishing town, with a harbor and
brightly colored boats. I passed a football match where a game was in
progress, the women were pumping water from a well nearby and kids were
carrying it home on their heads in big buckets. No tourist trap here…
Whoever taught the kids to speak that evil word they were all saying needs
shooting! And whoever encourages it needs stabbing. A few times. If you’ve
ever been to China you will know that the only english word everyone knows is
‘hello and after walking through a town and having 500 people say it to you,
you stop replying pretty soon and just get annoyed. Still, it is far better
than every two to seven year old holding their hands out and saying ‘money‘.
That is just depressing, but then half of them don’t know what they’re saying
and just going along with everyone else. The kids are so cute you can’t hate
them, just the fact that a lot of people in this country have very little,
but still believe that money will solve all their problems. Still that’s easy
for me to say…
The castle was cool, nicely restored and the caretaker gave me a great tour
around. Its now owned by an English guy and they did a lot of work on it, I
can’t help thinking its going to be ruined by commercialism instead of te
weather (they’re building a swimming pool on the headland in front of it) but
it certainly makes an impressive, if saddening, site. The slaves were kept in
tiny rooms, any food they got was just throw into the cells, there were no
toilets, little ventilation, 30 people to a tiny cell, rape of female slaves
was commonplace, only the strongest survived this ordeal which might last for
months before they arrived over the Atlantic and a life of misery, never to
see their home or family again. Far too many of these places were build to
house slaves to be transported off to death or the new world and although
Nana told me that night that he loves Tony Blair and the british as ‘out
colonial masters’ I think its a sad legacy to leave to a country as nice as
Ghana. Still, it was well before I was born, and no one alive today can
remember slavery so I don’t feel too much guilt. Still, the British Empire was
built on the profits of human misery, if it hadn’t happened we wouldn’t be as
rich as we are now, it displaced millions and we’ll never know how many
people died or suffered in pursuit of that four letter word – money.
But hey, I was on holiday by the beach and I wasn’t going to get depressed!
Life was good, it looked like it was finally over between Angela and myself,
I felt some slight twinges of guilt for being so mean but it was a
rollercoaster of emotions all the way. Ambivalence, boredom, annoyance,
dread, more annoyance and finally relief. The last thing she said was ‘I
really like you’ to which I said ‘ok thanks. see you’. I couldn’t understand
how she could leave without saying she loved me, but then I know nothing
about women.
Another lazy day but now it was no longer the weekend so the very few people
who were there mostly left. Perhaps it was time to move on, but I’d only just
got there! There really was bugger all to do, the surf was ok for boogie
boarding and they had some surf boards but the swell wasn’t really enough and
the boards a bit too short for me. I had plenty of books to get through
though and with lack of other distractions i was getting through them at a
fair clip. I resolved to leave the next day go and see some culture, surely
there were some interesting things to see in this country, I wasn’t here to
read but for adventure, excitement and really wild things!
One last trip to Nana’s for dinner and he had a crowd! Seems like my chat had
bolstered his confidence and he had grabbed every tourist in town, all 8 of
them! No room for me really but I sat down next to a couple of girls at the
end of the table. I have to be careful what I write now because they’ll
undoubtedly read this. although I might make a few footnotes that make it
into the edition that’s published on my death :p It became apparent after 5
seconds that they were a couple of girls from scandinavia, 15 seconds to see
it wasn’t Denmark and another minute to be sure it was Swedish. All while
trying not to listen to their conversation which would have been rude. Or
could have been rude, I really wasn’t listening. Honestly! I had to say
something though, god help me if they started talking about me, that I
couldn’t ignore, and whatever it was they were talking about was more
interesting than my beer label. So I used that classic chat up line that has
served me so well ‘which part of Swede are you from?’ :p They were impressed,
but that soon vanished with the next 2 questions, ‘Have you been to Sweden?
and ‘Do you speak Swedish?’. About as impressive as me asking someone which
part of the west midlands they come from.
Still it got us chatting and they were great girls, always laughing and
speaking swedish in a land where everyone speaks english is great for taking
the piss. The language came flooding back and I didn’t make the mistake I
made in Vietnam by saying I spoke great Swedish only to have the girl I said
it tell other Swedes I only spoke a little. Bitch! I am great! :p
They were away for four months and were about to start their trip back north
to Guinea where they would fly home a week after me. They were also planning
on leaving the next day but we were there until past midnight and drank so
much beer it seemed unlikely they would be getting up in time. I also suspect
it was my good looks and charm that made them want to stay a bit longer, and
nothing to do with my MP3 player filled with western music they’d both been
missing for three months. I staggered off to bed hoping they’d still be
around the next morning and happy that it seemed my trip had finally started!
Lets get wasted!
Next day was more of the same, bandy recovering from his poorly stomach
(and getting up at 7am to find his watch, to no avail). I’ve felt fine pretty
much the whole time, had a sore throat in bangkok but that gave our kid a
chance to oggle the attractive pharmacist in boots when I bought strepsils.
Theres not a lot to do, swim, play guitar, banana pancakes, etc etc. Great
weather, occasional showers, steady 28 degrees the whole time I reckon. Got
a bit of a tan now, nothing serious, no burns like a usually do. Can see
the white bits on my feet from my sandals nicely. I like that 
Ran into Tom the next night again and he”s been drinking since the
afternoon and was well on the way to getting completely hammered. We’d been
given flyers for toks again, free bucket of sang som which is a huge lethal
drink! The flyer said ‘lets get f**king wasted’ which is a nice thought. He
was with his ex-girlfriend, which was kinda freaky (for him). Bandy went
early and I consoled poor Tom as his ex went off with some bloke she’d met
on the ferry. Nice girl, aussie. We even got accosted by a random french
bloke on the beach who reckonned we were going to win the world cup with
‘rouuunay’ or someone. Was nice to hear someone have some faith! I had the
scary jungle trek on my own and we had arranged to leave the next day for
the trap that is bangkok. Any chance of leaving the day after…..?
hmmmmm…..
Karaoke Madness (again)
next day we woke bright and early to take advantage of another day and
another beach. We had ended up on one of the more remote beaches so getting
to where the majority of the action was entailed a trek through the jungle.
I kinda like ko samet, lots of thai tourists, enough bankpackers, not too
rowdy, not too quiet. We had a boring day, swimming, listening to Jack
Johnson (again!), eating banana pancakes, drinking shakes. We had a great
afternoon jamming away on the guitars too, until some random thai woman
opened our door and yelled “excuse me!” I think she didn’t like the sweet
music we were playing, Bandy thought she’d just got the wrong room. She
looked pissed off to me! That night we went out in search of action, but
there wasn’t much to be had. Met a english guy called Tom and took him off
to the local karaoke bar. Quite a good selection, and we broke the rules by
getting 4 songs in a row instead of the usual 2 per group. I belted out a
great ‘band on the run’, bandy muddled through àwill survive and tom make
a massive mistake with coldplays yellow because he forgot about the high
bits which he couldn’t sing due to laughing too much. The crowd was going
wild when we lauched into ‘bohemian rhapsody’, we were building up to a big
rock out climax, and just at the point of beeelzeebub having a devil set
aside for me, for meeee, for mmmeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEE!! the computer crashed
and the song ended. I guess you had to be there, but I was so I dont care.
We wandered back to Toks huts and spent the rest of the night chatting to 2
danish girls who I insulted by asking if they were swedish. I dont know who
suggested the skinny dipping, but I dont really care. Although technically
it was only the boys as the girls were much more modest. Bandy lost his
watch, and now I torment him by constantly asking the time. Shame 
Jungle
treks while drunk and soaked are best avoided.
Lazy Beach Day
After the unfortunate incident of nearly being lynched in the bar we had a quiet day. Wake up, eat a bit of breaky
by the sea, take a dip, play a few songs on the veranda, cruise around the
island avoiding the occasional showers, went to some waterfall, criticize
each others driving before heading home for a swim and sunset beer. good times.
I went back out later but poor bandy stayed in to complete his hangover cure.
Practiced my swedish a bit, got invited to tony’s bar the next night.
Tags: beaches, invitation, Travel, sunset, waterfalls, bandy, sea, cruise, waterfall, laziness, beers