As part of Trade Aid’s work in Tanzania, we aim to promote a sustainable tourism industry in Mikindani area. The following is the impressions of a trip to investigate the tourism and tourism opportunities in Palma, Northern Mozambique.

Palma is a small, fishing town set inside a large bay along the northern coast of Mozambique. It is home to some 10,000 people, most of whom are supported by industries linked to the sea. Like Mikindani, the place is quiet and peaceful and its people and culture are dominated by the influence of the Indian Ocean that surrounds it. In this way, what we expected was something more akin to Mikindani but the reality was quite different.

We arrived in Palma via two pick-up trucks and a boat across the Ruvuma to be greeted by the dusty, sandy sight all so familiar to us after our five months near Mtwara. However, what struck us was the complete absence of the historic buildings and NGO vehicles that dominate the landscape of Mikindani and Mtwara. The vehicle on which we arrived was virtually the only thing to pass through Palma during our stay while the old colonial buildings that dominate the visage of Mikindani were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps this was why Palma almost had a more earthy sense of untampered-with Swahili Coast. The charm of Mikindani lies in the huge mixture of different colonial, native and trade influences that have shaped its past and continues to shape its future. With Palma, it’s great appeal lies in the idea that it never was a settlement of great importance and so you feel, when walking around that this is the natural development of this part of the world.

There was no electricity or running water in the guest house, no Boma to retire to for a cold beer and certainly no hint of mobile phone signal and internet access but Palma itself was all the better for this. These things, along with the presence of brand names such as coca-cola and Pepsi are right for the formerly upwardly mobile Mikindani, a place now beginning to see a revival thanks to enterprises such as the Boma, the brand new ECO2 dive school and the newly revamped Ten Degrees South lodge. However, in a place such as Palma, where people are living on less than a dollar a day and where there has never been a glorious past to compare to that of Mikindani, these things would simply be out of place. We saw no other tourists during our time in Palma, which only served to enhance the feeling of being part of a totally different society. When following a regular tourist route, however sensitive a tour company or hotel may be, you never get to feel as cut off as this.

As part of our time there we went to see a local group of women rehearsing traditional Mozambique song (see picture, left). We were merely walking by when we were invited to sit in on the group during practice. Listening to the women and drums as the sun set and the tide came in really will be a lasting memory of my time spent in East Africa. Later that day we caught a dhow (traditional African/Arabic sail boat) from Palma all the way back to Mikindani. This again will stay with me for the rest of my life as one of the most authentic experiences of the lives people lead in this part of the world. These sorts of experiences, however overused the cliché may be, really are priceless. Money cannot buy memories and certainly looking at the people of Palma or Mikindani, plays no part in happiness or generosity. This sort of journey, away from the beaten track and reach of the guidebooks is highly recommended and, although not to everyone’s taste, will provide lasting memories to anyone willing to embark on them.

1. The USA has more personal computers than the next 7 countries combined.

2. Americans and Icelanders go to the pictures on average 5 times a year, while Japanese go only once.

3. The United States spends more money on its military than the next 12 nations combined.

4. Kazakhstan is the world's largest landlocked country.

5. Most people live in poverty in most African countries.

6. Only two countries in the world are doubly landlocked: Liechtenstein and Uzbekistan.

7. Senior gentlemen might consider a trip to Russia, where there's two over 65 women for every man.

8. Sick of crowds? Try Greenland where there's 38 sq km per person.

9. Sri Lanka has lowest divorce rate in the world – and the highest rate of female suicide.

10. South Korea is the heliport capital of the world.

At university I read War Studies and Theology. Whilst this makes me a complete weirdo it also means I can write very interesting newsletter articles. I have done one on Religion in Tanzania so now for the bit that keeps St Peter busy, War.

Little is known of East African warfare before the arrival of Europeans but we know the Arabs would have been developed whilst any combat involving the natives would have been small scale using edged weapons like swords (pangas), spears, bows and possibly shields. A look at the contemporary Massai or watching Zulu (great film) will give you some idea of what this would involve. Some Kenyan pangas from the Mau Mau uprising are on display in the Imperial War Museum. The Swahili’s first contact with gunpowder was from the Omani Arabs and then the Portuguese. However, most of the European-Swahili conflict occurred from 1884 onwards with the arrival of German occupation. The huge technological and military advantage enjoyed by the German’s meant that they were going to win most rucks. The British-Dervish battle of Omdurman (1896) with rifles, machine guns and artillery left 30,000 of the Sudanese spear chuckers dead or wounded for the cost of fifty British dead. However, the Europeans did not always have an easy day of battle.

The Hehe tribe had become one of the largest in Tanzania by the time of German occupation and opposed the colonists. In 1891 the heroic Chief Mkwawa led his tribe in battle at Lugalo and gave the Hun a good thrashing. A bit of a one off though as he was up against the finest offensive troops in the world and was soon on the run. He committed suicide and his head was cut off and sent to Germany where it remained until British diplomatic pressure saw it returned to Tanganyika in 1954.

By 1905 the Swahilis had been forced into labour and as a result of the appalling conditions, rebelled. The rebellion was known as the Maji Maji rebellion (maji = water) as the natives believed the Germans’ bullets would turn to water after firing. If their knowledge of ballistics was somewhat more developed then they would probably not have suffered such terrible casualties. The Germans reacted harshly but effectively using scorched earth tactics which resulted in wide spread famine and malnutrition. Mass executions of tribal leaders especially to the fearsome Ngoni tribe mopped up any remaining resistance. About 100,000 natives perished. Fortunately, the German colonists changed their stance and relative peace prevailed. Until 1914…

German East Africa (GEA) was surrounded by the British to the east in Zanzibar, the north in Kenya, the south east in Nyasaland, by the Belgians in the Congo and the Portuguese were honouring England’s oldest alliance and, therefore, the Germans were hemmed in from the south by Mozambique. This unenviable position was defended by Paul Von Lettow Vorbeck leading at any point about 3,300 Germans and 15,000 locally recruited levies. It was an impossible position really – his armaments were mostly obsolete and re-supply from the sea was going to be problematic.

The German Kriegsmarine’s ship Konigsberg managed to out fox the Royal Navy (RN) and was able to land supplies and wreck the Pegasus as she cleaned her boilers off Zanzibar. She fled up the Rufiji River where her shallow draft meant she could escape from the RN’s guns. If you have seen a particularly shocking Roger Moore film ‘Shout at the Devil’ (nothing compared to Moonraker, “I think he’s attempting re-entry”), then it shows the idea a little. However, the response was not to get a poor quality actor to black up with boot polish and take an alarm clock attached to TNT to blow the ship up. The British got two shallow draft monitors with long range howitzers to shoot it. Before sinking, the Germans landed the guns and ammunition and the Captain later defended Lindi.

Lettow Vorbeck employed hit and run tactics often deep into the surrounding colonies and was still being supplied by the Kriegsmarine. The RN blockaded the coast and supported the movements of the army along the coast. By 1916 the combined allied force outnumbered the Germans considerably and was led by the South African General Smuts. The Germans were rolled up and slowly encircled but the fighting continued in earnest. On 13th September a naval bombardment preceded a land attack on Mikindani. The impressive Customs House was shelled and wrecked and Mikindani claimed its only death of the war, sadly a forgotten villager. It appears the Boma was not attacked and resistance was not offered.

After a long game of cat and mouse and many casualties to malaria and dysentery the brilliant military campaign of the charming and brave General Von Lettow Vorbeck came to an end. He heard of the armistice two days after its signing and gave up his sword honourably on 25th November in North Rhodesia as a truly great soldier. GEA passed into British administration under a League of Nations mandate and became Tanganyika. The coming of the 1939-45 war did not result in any domestic combat but Tanganyikans did volunteer for service in the King’s African Rifles and the population as a whole suffered from shortages and rationing as Britain pulled her Empire into the war. Roald Dahl’s ‘Going solo’ provides an interesting account of life in Tanganyika at the outbreak of war (as well as great snake and decapitation stories).

The war passed as did British rule and now Tanzania is defended by the Tanzanian People’s Defence Force (TPDF) as well as a militia and a paramilitary police. I have personally seen the militia drilling and was not overly impressed. However, the TPDF proved themselves to be the best East African army in the war to oust Idi Amin from Uganda in 1979. Needless to say if America wanted Tanzania I would put money on the yanks, the TPDF’s budget would not buy a single US fighter aircraft. There was an issue a few years ago of Tanzania buying a high tech radar system from a British firm, I am unsure of the outcome.

A walk around Mikindani shows little evidence of current military activity but the historical signs are more common. The Mtwara airstrip was an RAF base, the customs house was destroyed by naval artillery and subsequent neglect, the splendid hotel is a fortified building. The Boma is no great castle but would have been a hard nut to crack. The crenulations (saw teeth type things you get at the top of castles) on the bastion at the back are wide enough to accommodate the large water cooled barrel of the Maxim machine gun whilst those on the tower could only fit a rifle. Both employed at the time of construction.

The now covered well shows that the adage is true that a castle’s defence is only as deep as its well and the witch doctor who dug a whole at the top of the Boma hill looking for German treasure found only spent German rifle cartridges. Using a chicken as a metal detector probably was not the best method of finding treasure though. The fact that Tanzania is relatively boring to a student of war belies its greatest asset. The peaceable nature of its citizens.

Michelle writes: I felt compelled to write about my second visit to The Gambia, it was all so different and held so many new experiences for me than from my first visit back in February this year. I also appear to have 'dodged' the bumsters – as I got to know and befriend a few the first visit – hey life is hard they need to live yeh! And you fail to mention poverty in Gambia – as a 'developing country' in your news letter! I appreciate bumsters can be annoying – I just tend to say 'no abaracca' (thank you) and emphasise I'm staying at Kololi compound like a Gambian and they leave me alone!

Yes, I stayed at a compound/lodge (£6 per night) and was no 5 star hotel – but if travellers want to experience The Gambia, what better way than to live the true Gambian experience? Ok sometimes it is a trickle from the cold water shower, the electricity is on 50% of the time, the two ring gas cooker is outside, and there’s a flea bitten dog guarding the gates to the compound..but hey my Gambian friends can visit – they are not excluded as they were when I stayed on a complex. I'd also like to mention the compound like the one mentioned below was moderately clean enough!

The benefits of befriending Gambian people whether they are bumsters or taxi drivers or people from my friend Fakeba's compound – and they do not have the luxury of a toilet or running water there (water from the well in buckets) – or adequate schools for the children – (a tin hut!) is sharing experience. One of the best true experiences was sharing Koriteh holiday – the end of Ramadam with 14 adults and 10 children all living in one compound (about 8 one bedroomed houses) and sharing together excellent food from 4 large bowls and green tea. The children so nice and happy with no toys dressed in their Sunday best, the women worked so hard to make the meal. And other children and friends all come around from other compounds..is sooo nice.

So I have my best soul mate Fakeba to show me around – I am charged as a Gambian not as a tourist..and my money is going into the local economy and not to the 'middle man' in an hotel! This cuts my costs down by at least 50%. So try the market in Serrekunda – I feel I was the only white person there – but food shopping is much cheaper than the supermarket – and as fresh – though the meat market was something else! (Very hot with flies and smelled!) though the food my friends cooked for me after – wow! So I return in kind..it is not hard, what I can save I can give – especially to the children. Please don’t ever go to the Gambia without some clothes for them or stationery for their school (special mention for Karin Nursery School, Serrekunda). Or why not give stationery to the children in a compound who do not go to school – less than 50% of the children can read or write.

So my new experiences apart from those I mention above? Seeing dolphins coming back from St James Island – look out for them, and its a wonderful swim there! Seeing the women going out on their small canoes to pick oysters at Lamin Lodge.. my favourite place.. Seeing monitor lizards at Bijilo (monkey park). I'd also recommend going to Brufut fishing village – I rode by bike – but I’m sure there are easier ways to get there – saw cows being herded on the beach and the boats were so colourful – is sooo beautiful.

I would say more about less beautiful encounters I witnessed between my friends and the police…. but I may get censored!

I'd like to give a special mention to Kotu Point beach bar..one of the best and only bars that does not discriminate against Gambians trying to make a living by selling things.. or 'hanging out' there… the views are wonderful as are my friends and the music there – and especially 'bongo man' who will teach anyone to play! I’d also like to say to all you tourist not happy with Gambia – please remember it is a developing country that does not have the same access to health care, sanitation, education, social security and employment we in the west are privileged to have.. the culture is different – celebrate it along with all the similarities of humanity we all share! Share a smile on the smiley coast yeah – it is nice to be nice! I'm going back for more smiles next March… and especially looking forward to meeting my friend Fakeba's family who are Mandinka 180 miles up the river Gambia:)

The day not long born – Bloody hot already, the sun reflecting off the tarmac and I could already feel the weight of the heat on my back and head, even through my Tilley hat. The fragile looking little single-engined plane, nicknamed in Brazil a ‘Teko Teko’ because of its resemblance in sound and vision to a child’s model plane driven by elastic bands – It stood there and shimmered and glowed in the sunshine while the temperature had not yet even reached 42 degrees Celsius.

In what seemed like slow motion a fat mechanic slowly hand pumped fuel into the plane’s tank. The smell of aviation fuel added itself to the tropical morning smells as Adam Baines and I stood waiting nervously to load and board this Teko Teko. Denis, the pilot, stood there in his beautifully cut, fashionably faded Khaki. This forty-something, athletic pilot exuded confidence as he emerged from the cockpit holding a slender glass phial which he dipped in the fuel tank. Denis looked at the yellow liquid in the phial against the blue, blue sky. He slowly brought it to his nose and gently sniffed it and rolled it under his nose with the concentration of a wine connoisseur. In Cruzeiro the pilot’s nose makes the final decision between aviation fuel and anything else that could find its way into tank!

Denis eyes turned to us, then drifted slowly over our baggage. He was not in a good mood. We were last minute passengers with extra weight, forcing him to remove all his various boxes, destined for different jungle stops and reload the craft again. On top of that we were going to pay the $900-00 with travellers’ cheques instead of US dollars cash. Denis looked us over. I could feel him wondering if the traveller’s cheques would bounce. He starred at these two Europeans and he probably wondered if we knew what we were getting into. I said, “The traveller’s cheques are paying for the return as well as the outward journey and, if they bounce; you won’t have to bring us back. Chief Biraci will vouch for us anyway”. Right he said, looking at my waistline “Back to the cargo hanger to get you weighed”. Finally, now having to believe that I really did weigh 85 Kilos, we approached the plane again.

Instrument checks done, the tower gave us clearance, chocks away. Propeller whirling, he shouted above the engine in English, let us sway. Mystified for a moment, then Denis loudly said the Lord’s Prayer in Portuguese and asked for the Lord to watch over our journey. A moment of reality came through the excitement and I prayed to whatever gods are up there, please keep an eye on us. The plane slowly surged forward, gathering speed, it lifted off and skimmed above the trees. Cruzeiro gradually disappeared behind us. At last, the adventure was to begin as we soared up, up and away.

I saw a carpet of green under the sky blue canopy, the sea of endless forest stretching as far as the eye could see to the edges of the horizon. I had a feeling of how small and insignificant are men in comparison to this wonder of nature. We flew on, gradually leaving behind the amazing golden beaches of the snaking river Jurua, so different from any riverbank I had come across before in either Africa or Australasia.

I was sitting in the seat by the pilot with my camera at the ready. Ready for what? I looked down at the trees so tightly packed together, my imagination was running away with the thought of what might happen if our one motor took sick and died. Chief Biraci had said, “There are no bad old pilots in the Amazon. Bad pilots die young; and so do their passengers”. Quickly glancing round I saw Adam starring out of the window, obviously moved by the sight of such beauty. Not the time to spoil his dream with a possible nightmare, for at that moment a rainbow appeared across the jungle and made what was already wonderful, magical. I looked at the Chief relaxed in his seat. I began to feel some of passion he had for his home, and also began to understand how he stood up at a conference in Panama and caused consternation by tearing up a prepared speech while shouting, “The Yawanawa want their land back”.

This man, who had lived on the building sites of Rio Branco and earned a pittance of money, had not only fed and clothed his body, but also fed his mind and soul and to become a survivor. At a time when most Indians ended up on the bottom of the human scrap heap, became alcoholics and the low life of the gutters of these fifth world towns. Chief Biraci had educated himself, fought for Indian rights to become their spokesman at the various conferences that became fashionable in the 80’s when the 1st world became aware of environmental issues. This plane journey was giving Biraci a small escape from his almost constant responsibility for the tribe. We had been in the air now for about 75 minutes, a journey that would have taken about fifteen days on foot or twenty by canoe.

Denis, the pilot, banked the plane and we moved on to another compass heading. He shouted over the roar of the engine in as much of a conversational tone as possible, “Don’t forget to be back on the grass strip on the date we agreed. We were cutting it fine by planning to be back just a couple of days before the start of the rainy season and the plane would be unable to land if the strip was waterlogged. I had already had a bad landing on a previous trip on a water soaked landing strip, the plane had tipped up on its nose – So, I had been there, done that and had no desire to repeat the excitement. “I make two passes and then I leave – That’s the deal”. I shouted back to the pilot,” I won’t forget, nor will Adam we both know that a seventeen day walk as the wet season starts could be the end for us”. Denis smiled,”Could be? It definitely would be”. “Thanks for the vote of confidence”, I shouted. We banked again and Denis said, “Sete Estrellas, time to land”. We swooped down low, crossing the river Gregoria and making for the grass strip by the side of the small group of thatched huts that was the village of Sete Estrellas and the jumping off point for our trip into the unknown.

This is the first in a series of trip reports sent to the Beetle by Globetrotter Steve who is travelling around South America and Easter Island, the lucky chap! So, if you are planning trip to Suth America or are interested in knowing more about it, you may find Steve’s trip reports of interest.

Life has it's ups and downs. On Tuesday I started the journey with a tour to the Altiplano National Parks. There were just three of us in the group, myself and two Germans. We went first to the local farmer’s market to stock up on fresh vegetables and fruit for picnics on the trip. Then we headed inland for a view of ancient petroglyphs showing herdsmen and llamas. There was a tomato farm nearby where we bought fresh produce, exceptionally huge tomatoes.

The next call was a Hari Krishne monastery where we had lunch and then started to climb. It was the main road to La Paz and there were some heavy lorries on the road, one of which had started to roll backwards and had come a cropper. We called at a fortified site over 2000 years old where the entrance to a fertile valley was guarded by a series of semi circular walls. The countryside was now very dry and we climbed through an area of cactus found only in that area of Chile. Near Socompa we went for a short walk down an Inca roadway and we started to see the first wild guanaco and llamas in the fields. We entered the village of Sacompa and looked at the very old church with its squat detached tower. From there we climbed to Putre where we were to stop for the evening. Unfortunately for me I was unable to eat the evening meal as I was feeling light-headed and wasn’t hungry. I had a very poor night’s sleep and was sick in the morning. Nevertheless I set off with the group up to Lauca National Park. There were spectacular views of the volcano across the lake and vicuña to be seen. The group went for a walk but I wasn't feeling well enough to go and so stayed with the vehicle. In fact I slept most of the time they were away. When they returned I was unable to keep fluids down. We returned to Pucalpa as planned but once there the group leader took me to a doctor who said my blood pressure was dangerously low because of the altitude and I needed to travel down to sea level immediately. They tested my blood pressure before oxygen, while breathing oxygen through a mask and then again after the mask was taken off. It immediately fell to very low levels. And so the tour leader drove me down to Arica immediately and the tour carried on without me.

The next day my appetite returned a little. I got a bus to Iquique and booked into a hotel for a couple of nights there. Iquique is a very strange city. It is set at the foot of cliffs that must be above 3000 feet high. An enormous sand dune extends into the Southern part of the city. The old downtown area was very run down and poor, but right next door are two large sandy bays and a lot of quite wealthy looking seaside developments – a casino, sailing club and smart hotels. In the old town is one long street of big houses built when the city was wealthy from the nitrate trade. This extended from an Opera House where Caruso sang to the sea. The whole street is listed and the buildings, built of timber shipped from Oregon in the 19th century, are being restored. It has all been pedestrianised with timber side walks, Victorian era lamp posts and street furniture installed and a new horse tram route is being constructed. Apart from these features it was quite a dull place and so yesterday I boarded another bus and spent four hours twisting down the spectacular coast with cliffs and mountains on one side and the Pacific on the other but nothing growing and no settlement. The road then turned inland past the Santa Elena Nitrate plant and an enormous copper mine to Calama where I changed bus and travelled the last hour to San Pedro, through the desert, as the sun set and the mountains glowed in oranges, reds and gold.

As the bus pulled in I saw one of the Germans who had been on the National Parks tour and chatted to him. I found myself a pleasant hotel and then went out for a good dinner in a restaurant with live musicians where I bumped into a retired Irish teacher from Maidstone who I had met in Arica.

After the problems of the Andes, San Pedro proved a welcome change. I took it easy on the first day, just going to the wonderful museum. I chose the same time as a SAGA group. What has happened to adventure travel? One member of the group was so overweight she wasn’t able to manage the whole museum tour and commented that the thin gold used for face masks looked as though it had been made to cover chocolate.

The next day I was feeling more adjusted to the altitude and walked out to a pre-Inca fort 3km from town. I arrived shortly after the SAGA party. The fort is built on a steep hillside where the river leaves a gorge and forms the oasis. The stonework was interesting, similar if cruder than Inca work. There was a maze of rooms, passages and who knows what leading up to an excellent viewpoint. The SAGA group didn't get there. The area has an interesting history. The Incas were only dominant for 60 years. The local people just submitted to them so were not defeated. However when news came that the Spanish had defeated the Incas the community leaders decided they weren't going to be dictated to about changing their names to match a new not understood religion. They therefore rebelled and retreated to their 11th Century fort. The Spanish, with horses and assisted by some local antagonistic neighbours defeated them in short time and executed the leaders. San Pedro de Atacama then became the sleepy backwater it remained until recently.

Next day, feeling full of confidence, I joined a tour to the Salar de Atacame to see the birds. The Salar looked like thawing snow, a grubby white and crunchy underfoot, with surface water in places. In the distance the distinct shape of the flamingos could be seen although even with strong binoculars you couldn't tell what species of the three found there were in sight. When they flew they looked even pinker and had an unusual Concorde profile with the wings far back along their bodies. In the distance Volcano Lascar steamed. It erupts every four years, the last time being 2000! It seems it throws out ash, not lava, and the winds always take the ash into Argentina. So that was alright.

The next stop was the isolated village of Socaire which had a very small stone church and tower. The church had become unsafe and so the community built a replica on a new town square but were now repairing the original. Around were terraces used for growing vegetables but slowly going out of use. Local men work in the Lithium extraction plant at the Salire and so the local economy is becoming cash based.

From the village we ascended to the deep blue Lakes of Miscanti and Miñques at above12,000 feet. We walked along a ridge from one to the other with stunning views and then back close to the shore. It was an important site for the flamingos to breed. They’re poor parents producing one chick which they will abandon if disturbed. It was the breeding season so we had to keep back from the lake shore. I was pleased to manage the walking without breathlessness or losing lunch!

The final stop was the village of Tocanao which is at the end of a gorge with a stream flowing through it. The stream is used for irrigating figs, quince, grapes and other fruit. The contrast between the arid highlands and the deep green of the valley was outstanding. It reminded me of Dovedale with surreal colour enhancement. Walking along the valley was a real pleasure after the heat and exertions of the rest of the day.

San Pedro de Atacama has an odd mix of visitors. There is a 'hippy' Chilean element, European gap year students, young European Professionals and elderly Islington or Baden Baden types having an alternative retirement holiday. The restaurants are a little more expensive than usual in Chile but have some adventurous combinations on the menu and the wine is delicious.

Well, I moved on to Antofagasta. Antofagasta is lack lustre. It's just a busy city and a bit down at heel. I decided to spend half a day looking at an industrial museum a little out of town. At the bus station this morning there were several ticket windows with bored staff sitting behind them and closed signs firmly in place. I went to the enquiry desk where three men were assisting one customer. After a while one broke away to see me. Can I have a ticket to Bacquedano I asked. I was told to get on the bus already in the terminal quickly and buy a ticket from the conductor. After half an hour the bus left. (Why the hurry?) “Bacquedano” I said to the conductor. “Calama?” he replied. “No, Baquedano.” I said. “Maria Elena?” he said. “No. Baquedano,” I said firmly and pointed to it in heavy print in my guide book. “Ah, Baquedano” he said, “$1 000”. I paid.

The museum was hopeless, uncared for, vandalised and derelict. I nosed around, did a sketch and went top the village for lunch. I had a tasty empenada and a cola for about a pound and then asked where was the best place to get a bus back to Antofagasta. The cafe owner said they were every half hour and you could flag them down infront of the cafe. He would bring me a chair so I could sit in the shade. As he was telling me this a bus went past. I sat in the shade for an hour before the next bus came. I waved. The driver and conductor waved back and drove past in a half empty bus. I decided to walk up to the police check point at the entry to town were all buses and trucks have to stop. After half an hour of standing in the early afternoon heat a bus came and I got on. He then stopped and picked someone else up outside the cafe where I had been sitting half an hour earlier.

Back in town I felt I deserved a coffee and lemon pie. After quite a while the waiter returned with the coffee but said there was no lemon pie. I’m going to treat myself to a nice sea food dinner and white wine. Wish me luck.

Next Steve goes to Easter Island.

We are sorry to say that Mac is not very well, but he is still e-mailing strong and recently sent the Beetle a collection of travel tips based on several trawls of travel websites. Here are some of the tips Mac has garnered:

• 1. Put wallet in breast pocket of shirt and then put another shirt over it. Me: might want to have a second more accessible wallet to hand to any potential robber
• 2. One traveller wrote that he kept two thirds of his cash in a pouch by his underwear
• 3. Another person wrote in to suggest this: you get old white undies, create a fake crap stain in the appropriate place and lay over your valuables

And here are some items that travellers have listed as being most glad they took: Gortex jacket, universal sink plug, nalgene bottle, toilet bag, pocket knife and camera, hiking type boots, backpack with pull-up handles and wheels, travel pillow, toothfloss, Pitzi headlight (a couple mentioned this), Ortlied folding bucket (a laundry bucket, bearing service bucket, and hat all in one).

Nick O Neill writes in BootsNall.com some good advice. Mac says that he stole his name Travel Nutter from Nick. He evidently has travelled for years. Some ideas I gained from Nick: when you shower pin your money belt with a safety pin to your towel. (I don’t know about that, I am so forgetful, I would probably leave the shower room without my towel or the money belt attached to it!)

On the subject of backpacks, Nick says he prefers a simple pack without 75 pockets and straps. He takes a medium sized pack that doesn’t encourage me to pack too much. Beetle: I have a side zipped Lowe Alpine pack that doubles up as a holdall that looks a bit less back packer-ish for those odd occasions when checking into somewhere a little more up market. Whatever backpack you use, try to get one with a zip cover that hides away all of the handles as these can get stuck in airport conveyor belts etc.

Nick says he has used an extra long North Face sleeping bag for over a decade. Mac asks, does he own stock? Mac says he uses a hollow filled bag while heavier than a down bag, it will retain heat when wet.

Nick says that he carries three $l00 bills in his money belt (the one fastened to a towel). He says he has even been able to use them in a shack in the Himalayas.

Back to Mac: travellers who have had some military service might want to check out the overseas military clubs that are equivalent to the American Legion and Veterans of Foreign Wars etc. In Australia and New Zealand and Western Samoa they are RSL Clubs. I checked in at Cairns, told them a little bit about myself, where I had travelled etc and asked if they knew where the Catholic Church was, the time of Mass etc. and if they knew any reasonable place to stay and eat, asked about local bus transportation, what I should see etc. They made me an honorary member of their organization for the time of my stay in Australia.

In South Africa they are MOTH clubs (military order of tin hats which started in WWI) and Comrade Clubs (British oriented.) Again, I was made an honorary member and even invited to some of the members’ homes. They like to learn about you and you like to learn about them. In the MOTH clubs the commander is always called Old Bill no matter what his actual name is.

In Western Samoa, the commander of their RSL was an American working in Western Samoa. I asked how he got to be commander of this foreign club. He laughed and said he was about the only one of its members that had been in the service, the rest were associate members. Sometimes these clubs in some places to keep them going take associate members without any military service. Most of them are very hospitable and good sources of information and kind of a security blanket. Mac

The Athletic Clubs and other clubs in some of the countries when you show them your passport will let you eat there and use their facilities.

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