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Category Archives: travel
I had just passed a Laotian wedding party – held in the cordoned part of a side-street that evening: tarpaulin, tables of food and drink and smiling, seated guests, others dancing merrily to the band beside a stack of huge speakers, been offered a glass of beer-lao by a guest and then 100 meters later a young girl running; her agonized shrieking alarming.
Mekong River – my room with view, Savannakhet
Next second I knew why she was so hysterical. Accident; just happened. Shit. Us first on the scene – more people running towards the carnage now. Two bloody bodies collapsed on motorbike; the front of this small truck massively punched in and windscreen scattered – fallen out in a collective web. Front passenger sitting, staring into space – not moving like attempting to flush out this bad dream, blood streaming down his serious, statue face. On the road below neither men wear helmets; one is fucked and the other is dead.
Reality is suspended in movie surrealism; a frantic, tortured hush of blood and impending death. In these seconds I am helpless – I don’t want to move the injured; surely his back’s broken; I can’t speak Lao; wish I was a doctor – as others arrive. More people gather shocked, stunned, others frantic in action as Lao men lift the bloody bodies onto the back of the truck and then someone gets into the passenger seat and proceeds to drive towards hospital … as I wander away into the quieter, calmer night, stunned, as thoughts on the philosophy of life and death tease me.
Just months ago during my hazardous journeys across West Africa on the back of taxi-motorbikes for hours traveling terrible rural or jungle trails – across Togo, Guinea and Sierra Leone – I had wondered when this would happen to me? There’d been so much great accident potential: the near-miss trucks; skidding on steep rocky paths; sliding into mud bogs; nearly-hitting livestock and people; and the constant danger of being humped-off the back of the bouncing bike …
So the sombre walk back to my Mekong River-view guesthouse got me thinking … Where is the luck to avoiding death? What is the logic that determines when one is to be consumed by death? And God tell me, when is it my turn, to die?
Uploading chickens onto the bus roof in Burkina Faso
Kono mosque at dusk (looking from the balcony of my guesthouse)
along a market street, Freetown – Sierra Leone, 2007
I was on an early morning bus – that departed 2 hours late so we got caught up in the market rush of this main street, as the music of Lucy Dube played on the bus stereo.
To celebrate 20 years on the road – across the planet – I’ve decided to begin a series of advisory posts: 2 > WHAT TO TAKE … Sure I know there’s plenty of advice out there on this particular theme – and it’s subject to individual needs and the purpose and duration of their trip but what-the-hell here’s my offering for those on the road for many months, this list mostly based on the contents of my backpack now spread across the floor of my hotel room here in downtown Freetown, Sierra Leone.
> DOCUMENTS – hidden money-belt with a Passport that has plenty of pages anda long life (6 months or less until expiration will be refused visas by most embassies).
> Up-to-date vaccination passport – especially Yellow Fever certificate.
> Emergency cash in US Dollars, Sterling or Euros hidden beyond your main money-belt; get bank cash advances or better still global ATM access to your travel funds at home via a VISA credit card but make sure it has a pin number and get two cards, one stashed for emergencies (Note: Mastercard & Amex are not that widely accepted beyond the West); WATCH OUT – Traveler’s Checks are largely useless or a real hassle to change in much of the Developing World.
> Passport photos ready for visa applications.
> Travel Insurance can be good for piece of mind – both medical cover and personal effects … BUT depends on your outlook and budget.
> Copies of documents on paper and also maybe on a pocket flash-drive and/or also stored in an email account.
> Backpack (my 40-can-expand-to-a-55 liter) with fold-away dust/rain-cover; the pack body is rugged, tall and slim – as opposed to wide and bulky – which is better for squeezing into crowded places like buses, stations, etc. For security, in rooms and in transit, all the zippers can be padlocked. And I also use an additional combination-lock and wire to secure my pack to a pole, inside a cupboard, etc.
> A Daypack / sling bag is essential for small trips and hikes and when taking your valuables with you onboard transport when your main pack may be flung on a bus roof or in a taxi boot. My daypack is rugged, slim, 20 liter with rain-cover. And the pack is attached to my main pack by snap-chain and carried in front when on the move to new locations. (For my purposes my daypack is well-padded to hold the few consumer items I own: Nikon DSLR camera with lenses & accessories; small video camera; 10” laptop @ 1.5 kg, with extra 120GB ext. drive; MP3 player; etc. But what you need is most probably much less weight and hassle: So unless you are a pro-photographer or totally nomadic like me and live out of your backpack – the ELECTRONICS I would recommend you travel with include a MP3 player, compact digital camera with portable storage, and maybe a mobile phone).
> ESSENTIAL ITEMS include flashlight; sunglasses; hat or cap; sun-block, alarm clock; Swiss Army Knife (for opening beer, tinned food, wine, and survival in wilderness); 2 liter water bottle (collapsible to save space) and a water purification solution; compass; 2 pens with some writing paper; maps; guidebook & local language phrasebook; paperback book; light stainless mug and water heater element (very useful when you stay awhile and want to domesticate oneself by boiling water or eggs or to make tea or coffee or instant noodles or packet soup); inflatable neck pillow for sleeping on transport; ziplock plastic bags to waterproof & compartmentalize everything for quick, easy searching and packing of small items; earplugs; and depending the climate – mosquito repentant and net, silk sleepingbag liner &/or a small compacted sleeping bag; needle and thread; candle & lighter; photo of your family to show interested people …
> CLOTHING is a matter of personal need but I have the following presently in Africa – and can buy others when needed in colder climates or a work situation – 2 loose, pocketed trousers with zip-off legs; 3 t-shirts; 2 shirts, 4 underwear; small quick-drying towel; rain poncho (that can also be a ground sheet for sleeping rough); sarong (for relaxing about but also to use as a shower dress or towel, head-cover or scarf); study hiking sandals; and for cold snap emergencies: thermal top and bottoms, thermal beanie and 1 pair of socks (I will also carry hiking boots, more socks, a gore-tex jacket and tundra fleece if traveling beyond the tropics).
> MEDICINES – not an exhaustive list but have at least most of this: pain-killers like Paracetamol or Asprin; antihistamine; anti-shit pills – Immodium for stopping the flow on a journey and Flagl for serious bowel problems; a course of Malarone post-exposure anti-malarial pills (it’s impractical over all these years for me to take daily tablets to prevent Malaria); sleeping pills (for light sleepers – like me – on long flights or overnight buses); anti-cold/flu tablets and throat lozenges; antiseptic, plasters, bandage, tape, safety pin, butterfly stitches; condoms; eye-drops; multi-vitamins; as for carrying an anti-biotic, take a general one but often it’s okay to find a specialized A/B locally, like I did in Yemen & later Morocco, when I got a hellish dental/gum infection. AND, along with this main first-aid kit I have a small purse of these items that stays in my daypack for immediate access. NOTE: If you have special needs / prescriptions – bring them all with you.
> TOILETRIES – again we have different needs but watch out this stuff can get weighty so keep bottles / packets small like sachets of shampoo and small soap; toothbrush, paste, floss; nail scissors & clippers; deodorant; comb & gel; razor, blades, tiny mirror; cotton buds; toilet tissue – have small bundles everywhere including in trouser pockets; moisturizer – essential in hot dry climates – is contained within your sunscreen. For re-supply all this stuff is readily available world-wide BUT if you have special needs then bring them from home.
> Packing it all in – have it organized so it flows easy – best with side-zipping packs as opposed to top-loading. And as mentioned earlier have everything compartmentalized into plastic transparent bags for easy identification and access, fast packing and extra water-proofing. Needless to say have stuff that you may need accessible or at the top or stashed in a side pocket – like a poncho for a sudden downpour or a guidebook ready to locate yourself when arriving in a city or finding a flashlight in black-outs. Obviously wrap clothing around fragile stuff and make sure bottles like mosquito repellent are in their own plastic bag to avoid contamination.
Now that all is said – Good luck: Pack and Go …
> PS: If you’re a traveling surfer or mountaineer then obviously there is much more you can take … other things that I don’t carry but others like are a washbasin plug – missing so often, so you can wash clothes, and a line of string and pegs to hang the washing on; personally, for a few dollars I employ a local to do my laundry.
To celebrate 20 years on the road – across the planet – I’ve decided to begin a series of advisory posts. First let me outline my experience … I have hitched the Sahara in 1991, north to south, across Algeria down into Niger; have gone overland – which was mostly hitching – from England to India, via Europe, Iran & Pakistan, in 1990; I’ve hitched across the Tibetan Plateau and over the Himalayan high passes into Nepal in 1994; I hitch-hiked across the desert from Jordan to Iraq in 1989 and across Northern Kenya into Ethiopia in 1994, and there’s also been dozens of smaller journeys in numerous countries ranging from New Zealand to Vietnam to Morocco to Scotland to Uruguay, etc, so here are some tips:
Hitching on trucks – the only way – from northern Kenya into Ethiopia, 1994
> While hitching is usually to save on transport costs often it’s the only viable means of transport, especially so in remote developing world regions where you may ride on top of a cargo truck, and if this is the case then 99% of the time you will be expected to pay, so agree on a price before you hop in/on.
> Maintain eye contact with the driver even as he passes – often it’s at this point that they will slow, and stop. Always have your sunglasses off so your eyes are exposed, and smile slightly.
> Some people think that dress appearance helps/hinders the effort –maybe; all I know is that in my teens/20s/30s I was a long-haired dude in colorful, alternative clothes and this did not hurt my chances.
> Make sure you can carry your backpack for a few km, easily and without effort; heavy, bulky bags are a nightmare. Travel light.
> For marathon journeys carry some white A4 paper and a RED marker to write – in clear block letters – your destination and hold it above your head for each passing car to see. Often a joke can work or maybe a smiley face. EG: when I was stuck in Luxembourg I wrote my final destination – INDIA; that got attention and soon a ride out of a tough spot.
> Chose your hitching spot with care. Walk or get a taxi or bus to the edge of town, the city, the village. No one will stop at a bend or a busy intersection. If it’s very hot find a shady area. Don’t walk too far if the area is – like an endless desert. Find a good spot and be patient. Make sure the driver can see you at least 100 metres away and then they can assess you on the approach.
> Start your trip early in the morning – at dawn – if the distance is great, the land sparse, the road empty, and you should always have at least some water, and some light snacks / biscuits, maybe some salami or a tin of tuna, for emergencies.
> If it’s a long journey and the climate – EG: Europe – is temperate or cold carry a sleeping bag and plastic ground sheet so you can sleep anywhere alongside the route if you get stranded. And if it’s hot, off course carry extra water and use a hat & sunscreen.
> Always carry the essentials like a torch, map, rain-jacket or poncho, Swiss Army knife, a compass, tissue paper, basic medicines, etc.
> Hitching in Europe is illegal and dangerous on most major highways, so wait at petrol and restaurant parks and approach drivers directly or wait at the exits.
> Because the driver has picked you up often they will want conversation / company; so introduce yourself, your country, your journey and ask a few questions – if there’s no common language use charades, hands – and if the conversation continues fine, or maybe the driver prefers silence … You will assess this within the first 5 minutes. Be warned that numerous conversations during lots of short rides can get tiring but you’re obligated to be polite to those that are doing you this favour.
> Sometimes it’s best to decline offers of short rides in favour of waiting for the perfect ride BUT often you have no choice or it’s too late in the day or few vehicles pass – so then take any offer.
> I’ve never had a really bad experience hitching but use common sense: avoid drunks, families are good, and if you’re female then be extra careful and use your intuition – if it feels bad – don’t ask why? just follow the vibe – and decline the offer.
> Remember: hitching the Developing World along major routes is often unnecessary as cheaply-priced buses and shared-taxis will ply all the main routes (but this is less so in parts of Africa).
> Hitching can be a great way to encounter the locals and often people will go out of their way for you – EG: buy you a meal, smoke a joint with you or offer you a place to stay, sometimes detouring off their route to take you closer to where you want to be.
Have confidence, be wise, and get on the road …
I’ve decided to begin a series of advisory blogs to celebrate 20 years on the road – across the planet: 1 > Travel advice 101 for backpacking in the Developing World, written here whilst in Freetown, Sierra Leone, West Africa: the first rules and probably the somewhat-fuckin’-obvious ones but one has to start somewhere, yeah? Okay.
> Get interested in a country or region, read, surf the web but don’t plan too intensely; better to have plenty of time and see what happens … be flexible; go with the flow. Plans change.
> Travel as light as possible: a heavy, bulky backpack will be your worse enemy … Besides: you can always buy cheaply and discard as you travel.
> BUT: bring all important items from home before you leave: EG: prescriptions/medicines, specialized camera / electronic items, guidebook, personal essentials …
> Buy quality footwear – hiking boots or x-country-sandals – if you want to get the miles without pain (but for about-the-town or beach then cheap jandals /thongs are okay). Likewise make sure your backpack is good – so zips or seams won’t bust within months.
> NEVER save money avoiding vaccinations – get all that are necessary. And travel insurance is good for piece of mind but not essential (if you are on a tight budget; take ya chances).
> Buying your flight via the internet is often the cheapest; but not always! Research.
> In most cases smile, wave, or say Hello / greet all people who meet your eye (unless avoiding touts or hustlers; or you’re a woman avoiding sexual harassment).
> Never carry the bulk of your money, credit card, passport in an obvious money-belt but rather one hidden beneath your clothes, and also use additional secret emergency stashes in a zipper-belt, in a shoe, or in a bag, etc. For dailytransactions rather than a wallet have small money in a plastic bag stuffed into a front pocket.
> Don’t wear a watch or expensive-looking bling; ethnic jewellery is okay.
> Best to avoid tap water unless purified or otherwise told its okay. Likewise salads washed in the same water – but peeled fruits are fine.
> Street food is cheap, yummy and essential to the experience – just chose carefully – busy means good, fresh, high turn-over; but all the same you may get a stomach upset simply from the change of diet.
> Rest assured you’re not alone: internet cafes are across the world – in most most major cities towns – and usually cheap with reasonable speeds.
> NEVER – no matter how convincing – get involved in get-rich-quick schemes or other great proposals – they are always scams.
> ALWAYS negotiate a price before using a taxi, rickshaw or motorcycle-taxi.
> It’s always good to learn at least Hello & Thank You in the local language.
> Don’t have fear about what might happen – unless it happens, which most-often, it doesn’t. Have confidence and fun, and get out there!
Often you know when a journey will be difficult, when it with wear you out, when it will numb your bum and tire your mind but hell it will be memorable and etched in your head and so this was one – one, of 100s – that I’ll remember (assuming that a mind-rotting disease doesn’t kick in) but hell for now it’s here. But how did it begin …? I forget.
On the road towards Guinea
NOTE: Presently I am in Labé in the Fouta Djalon region, the lush, canyon-ed high plateau of north-eastern Guinea, writing this on battery by candlelight … and I’ve drunken several beers at a friendly, hole-in-the-wall bar shortly after the Ramadan fasting came to an end today.
So where was I? Remembering … Okay, let me listen to my audio diary and get back to you …
Koundara: just been talking to Captain Thomas and friends – very drunk soldiers, missing teeth, red berets slopped everywhere. They came into this shack-bar/disco/hotel where I was staying – few other choices … the boss-chick has just gone out to appease them; I fucked her when I arrived – in the morning & in the evening … don’t know where to start … this was on the eve of Ramadan, drinking amid drunk, ragged, aggressive soldiers in a scene from a twisted movie.
Lone hut in the early morning light
This is a country that is deemed the next failed state – here a history of dictatorships and coups and economic mismanagement despite it being a major Bauxite exporter and having other vast mineral riches – Guinea is driven by a general who for the last 20 years has succeeded in keeping himself in power by cheating at the ballot and by changing the rules to suit himself, and who was last shot at in 2005. Even his soldiers, after a pay revision, revolted, but he survived despite an artillery siege at the presidential palace and then after an agreement there followed the sudden execution of mutineers. Today Conte still rules; this is another banana republic that we don’t know or care about. (And I read on the internet this morning that the soldiers just this week are threatening violence again unless pay owed from the late-1990s is paid. But I also hear that nothing will happen until after Ramadan).
There is no running water; electricity is either occasional in major towns or more likely not at all unless supplied via private generator. And, most roads are appalling.
Which brings me back to the roads – the journey … a test of the will, or at least this western will. Not the most difficult but (that was yesterday on route to Labé – shattered roads that are red clay hard ruts, deep festering holes, thick mud eating trucks; to avoid holes one side of the car driving along road’s outermost edge and other down lower along the mud track, car riding at a sloping 45 degree angle – branches hitting windows. Fucked up but … the mountain slopes often the best traction – less erosion uphill apart from some deep rain ruts that channel down; early in the day passing thatched huts and long green red-tipped grass then and later jungle and grouped chimpanzees on huge rocks seated calmly in dusk light as we struggle uphill. Followed by cattle and goats across the track – kids waving – when I wave at then – astonished at my white presence – Foto, they call – meaning white in the local tongue. Women with bowls on heads going nowhere obvious but greenery all around and our journey slow, bumpy, broken; painful.
Awaiting more passengers in Koundara “taxi” station
I woke at 6:30 AM in dark, waited till 7:30 for the car to fill and we arrive in dark at 9:30 PM; we have only covered 265 km … we have 4 people in the front including the driver, 3 in the back – only cos I paid double for an extra seat/space, and then 3 more cramped in the boot-bench-seat of the Peugeot 505 over the rear wheel, and one more in the tiny actual boot and two more on top of the heaped baggage on the roof-rack. And so a humble 5-seater hatchback is a 14 seat slave … But this particular journey of Guinea is another story.
So I forget, I forgot, my mind is rotting … back to this day, this journey: Her name was Monica, 3 babies at age 25, tribal slit cut down along the rims of each ear-lope; when I arrived she offered me sex … fingers placed together then the in-out motion is understandable in any language – especially mine, her washing the rooms – dusty, concrete, lino-clad floors, spider web corners, sunken thin mattress, showers equal water in a bucket, a fan when the generator kicks in at 7 pm … She got on top of me. Twice … actually, five times by the time it was over that evening.
Anyway before that there was the border crossing between Guinea-Bissau and Guinea in a crammed car, no room for legs or arms or beer bellies … that lasted checkpoints and past villages to the now searing mid-day heat of the frontier, where the Immigration officer in a small tatty concrete office was pleasant, decent, friendly but the Customs across the dirt road made me empty my backpack. But I threw off his ambitions of a full search straight away by showing him my dullest aspect of my bag first – here’s my towel, my books, my toothpaste, my … after wanting something from me – he got nothing, he actually thanked me, keen to have met a New Zealander, a nomad who had nothing but his bags – for he understood slight English and I explained my life to him. But then the soldiers in the thatch hut wanted me to enter … Alert: nasty dumb fucks ahead.
River crossing on route to Labé; the barge was broken, so cables welded for 2 hours and then we crossed … by two men turning a wheel we were pulled along the cable to the other side
They tried to intimidate me: 5 of them; unfriendly. They didn’t acknowledge my greetings in English, Islamic salutations, or French. They wanted me to empty my backpack and electronics bag on the dry dirt floor and I realized there was some real danger here of a huge bribe or other hassle. I got shitty, growled – fuck this shit, having already deflected the same nonsense minutes earlier at customs and so said loudly and slowly each item. I got out my towel and mentioned its name – like a teacher – and demonstrated drying myself. Then I got our my tooth brush and brushed, my book and I read … trying to delay the search of my valuables – a Nikon SLR D80 with expensive lenses, Sony video camera, lightweight powerful laptop with extra hard drives, MP3 player, etc, etc … I got out my toilet paper – “here’s my toilet paper, this is for wiping my butt” – and held it high and started to wipe my arse – and they cracked up! That was it, I could pack my pack, and out … they asked my nationality and were pleased to meet me – although I’m sure they knew nothing of where I was from. Even the mention of Australia washed over them – but no more search. No money paid; nothing lost.
The next stage was much easier: but no vehicles were going from this deserted border post to the next deserted border post. There was only one other traveler. A guy from a Guinea, as the others in our shared taxi had raced off into a waiting friend’s 4WD, and that left us with 10 seats to fill; just 2 people and not a person or vehicle coming within hours to complete the journey and so I offered to pay the bulk of the distance: 45 km = over 1 hour of rutted track to get us to the next village and there next shared taxi probably awaiting passengers – as maybe you don’t know: but taxis, cars, buses in Africa don’t leave until full: there is never a timetable for departure – just when a vehicle is full, which by my previous experiences of Africa can mean mercifully just 30 minutes or even less but usually up to several hours waiting … so I paid nearly-the-complete taxi fare which, in this case was nothing – $10, but often it can be too much, as in 10 x $10 +/-.
When we arrived at the Guinean border – about 1 km away – I hopped over the wire that stops traffic – like there’s any – and the soldier go shitty, didn’t understand what he was saying but realized I had to go around the now limp wire down on the dirt – Not over it, like I was walking on the flag or something! Got to the Immigration shack where lines of tired Africans were waiting and was stamped immediately, without fuss. Wow. Thank you. Then as our taxi was rearing on – the Customs guy on the other side was calling to the driver to stop – but he could not hear – as we were walking on to the next post – I also ignored him while urging the local with me to stop shouting to the driver to stop … and so we cleared Customs by ignoring them.
Truck on the road in the mountains of Fouta Djalon, Guinea
The next soldier post was gentle. And that was it, across more broken mud tracks – too easy, with seats to ourselves – for an hour towards the town of Saréboido. And then it was back to cramming – should have paid a few bucks extra to avoid this but … got in the back – as in 3 people crammed in over the rear wheel for another hour of banging heads, crammed legs room, scarping shins.
And so I arrived in Guinea, in the sleepy town of my chosen stay in Koundara, found a “hotel” and gotten laid within minutes of arrival, had endured hours of cramped spaces over rough roads, had defused greedy soldiers and gotten drinking with deluded others to realize that indeed it was a lucky day; a relatively easy journey.
(PS: in Part 2: Leaving Guinea to Sierra Leone was just as crazy – soldiers, bribes and bad roads abound.)
