Wednesday, June 15, 2005

titbits

Okay, off your screens for the last 14 days, RGJOM returns with a bang below...

A new world record of approx 20,jointly crafted, paragraphs of the backpacker saga is below - the gory and often trying tale of the last 11 days in lovely Malawi.

Unfortunately no photos though. My protestation that there was no longer a place on earth that didn't have a memory card reader and a cd writer, has proved sadly wrong. It now seems there is an entire continent. Rest assured though, every effort is being made to return full service to your screens. Courtney is just glad it wasn't her marvellous decision to leave the USB cable at home.

Keep an eye out for the back gammon score as the race to end the year ahead really heats up. Place your bets here...

tyres, trying and tired

First up, let's acknowledge that, yes, reggae music does indeed hail from the Carribbean. I realised this the moment I pressed publish on the last post, just as I realised that SmartAlec would be the first (and only one) to point this out. That said, we won't be needing his Bhundu Boys tapes, as our Thomas Chibade - Malawian reggae - rocked the car...

Anyway, 11 days in Malawi to catch up on..

Driving north from Lilongwe in our seemingly flash Toyota 4WD, everything in the garden seemed rosy. We even discovered a mysterious 5th gear on the car, contrary to the 4 denoted on the stick. Even the periodic police checkpoints seemed friendly enough. That was until the 3rd one, when the policeman decided to welcome us to his country by fining us $10 for non possession of a fluroescent red warning triangle. Threatening to call our embassy didn't appear to phase him and to add further irony, we discovered the next morning that we did actually have 2 of the bloody things hidden in the back of the car.

First stop Luwawa Forest. No spectacular wildlife, just trees, friendly hosts, mashed potato and dusty red tracks to spend the days walking along. The manager was so helpful that he even pointed out our back tyre was flat and pumped it up for us.

Tyre fitters no.1 happened 100km up the road in Mzuzu, the 'capital of the north'. The offending tyre was leaking air again. Back in Lilongwe, like proper innocents abroad, we had checked the car for scratches etc, failing to pay any attention whatsoever to the slightly more African essential factors as a spare tyre with tread, a spare tyre with a rim that fits the car and 4 nut bolts for every wheel. Now, 100km from home we discover we have none of these.

Anyway, Mzuzu sorted us out with more air, an apparently 'mended' slow puncture and a new rim for the spare. And of course we got to spend half the day most definitely off the usual tourist trail.

Next up was the Vwaza Marsh Reserve, a mini wildlife park 30km down a neverending and ever worsening dirt track. So at least we got to see some elephants. And being out in the middle of nowhere meant self catering for the first time in god knows how long.

Displaying the type of boy-scout skills that only 10 years at a desk job can provide, we spent a fruitless 30 minutes (in ever increasing darkness) trying to get the log fire on the barbeque to light. Desparation was about to set and the remaining Sudoku puzzles be sacrificed as lighting fuel, when the night watchman wandered over and suggested using some of the parrafin from the hurricane lamp he'd supplied us with an hour ago. Lo and behold it worked. Genius.

Now the last time one of us had attempted to cook a camping meal - on the Forest Gump cycling trip of 2001 - he hadn't exactly covered himself in glory. Then, after taking over an hour to boil the water and cook the pasta, everything had been spilt on the dirt when attempting to drain the water. The next day the camping stove was posted home and he ate in restaurants everynight thereafter. This time there was more success.

Pasta, tuna and tomatos tasted perfect, so much so that we helped feed a very hungry 18 yr old Dutch student (the only other resident of the camp). Judging by the way he wolfed it down, the poor chappie hadn't eaten a square meal in weeks and probably his claim to have lived off $150 for the last 3 months in Africa was perfectly true.

Anyhow, erring on the side of caution, it wasn't until 10 seconds before planned departure that either of us thought to check the offending tyre to see how it was bearing up. Sure enough, it was flat again. Without a pump within miles, it was time to don our best engineer hats and fit the spare tyre. Miraculously this was achieved successfully and with only the midlest temper tantrum halfway through.

It wasn't till we'd passed the third set of locals laughing and pointing at the wheel, that we pulled over and discovered that the 'brand new rim' that we'd had fitted 3 days previously (the man at the petrol station said 'wait here, I know a man who can help you...'), was so badly dented that it caused the wheel to literally wobble from side to side. Great.

The hastily convened expert panel of 8 locals and us decided that the lesser of 2 evils was to continue the hour long drive to (relative) civilisation with the wobbly but inflated tyre rather than the stable but nearly flat one.

Miraculously we made it to Rumphi and Tyre Fitters no.2 . Once again, in minutes this time, the tyre was 'mended'. And once again, we stuck our head back in the sand and pretended, hoping and praying, that the car hassles were behind us.

(is anyone still reading this?)

Next stop was Nkhata Bay where, contrary to better intentions, we ended up staying in Myoka Village, the Backpacker Central of Malawi. And all the stereotypical characters were out in force.

First up was (un)Friendly - so named because clearly being a volunteer in the local school meant he was far too cool and worthy to bother talking to us, despite the fact he'd swam 100m to sit on the same small floating dock in the lake as us. Next was ExcitablePoshBird, Amarintha (I kid you not..). Everthing in Am's world was simply 'Ammaaazzzing'. Best was her application of the traditional Malawian triple handshake without the faintest hint of irony or recognition that this was slightly strange for someone that only arrived in the country 3 days previously.

Elsewhere, WackyPeaceCorps from West Virgina rambled and twitched his way through a detailed monologue about how wonderful his sister back home was (before sitting in the corner and listening to this ipod for the rest of the night). Full critiques of FlowerPowerShoeless, PrinceHarry, AlcoholicOwnerGary, ManicallyHappyHans, MrChocolateMan, TheLocalBoyz, WaifyCardiganStudent and SmugRecentlyEngagedCoupleInTheCorner will have to follow some other day.

Joy of joys, dawn broke on day 2 in Backpacker Central with the arrival of yet another (the same one) flat tyre. To add extra spice, this time we were stuck miles from town at the bottom of a road clearly not designed for our low clearance (we know all the terms now) car. An entire morning was wasted trying to buy a foot pump to give us enough inflation to get the car back to town to get the tyre 'mended' again. Eventually we managed this and, instead of spending the afternoon on the beach or swimming in the lake, we hung out at Tyre Fitters no.3 watching repair operation no.237. This time the guy actually put a patch on and merely by the fact that he took an hour we could tell it was a more professional job. With the tyre back on the f**ing car, we ensured a warm welcome for any future tourist faces by tipping handsomely and buying them all a crate of beer.

Car hassles a thing of the past? Amost. Upon returning to BackPacker Central, NormalOwner'sWifeKathryn causally informed us that the wooden bridge connecting us (and our car) to the mainland was being dismantled at dawn the next day. Now, though we'd have gladly got shot of the f**ing thing, we faced the prospect of having it stranded on an island for weeks while a concrete bridge was built.

Every cloud has a silver lining and this news meant we had the perfect excuse to beat a hasty retreat from BC, thereby escaping the bridge destruction and being stranded with WackyPeaceCorps for the next month.

Every cloud has a silver lining x 2 la la la and the next destination was Makuzi Beach, a drop dead gorgeous secluded beach resort on the banks of Lake Malawi. Still, budgets have to be kept to and this meant Ms Love slumming it in a tent rather than the $100-a-night chalets.

What else? Well tours of missionary churches, graveyards, local villages and even a visit to the school headmasters office followed. And, having successfully found excuses why we couldn't afford it for the last 10 months, finally we had to go on a bl**dy horse ride. And swim in the sea with the uncomfortable thing.

Which wraps up Malawi. From here it's off to see zebras or something similar in Zambia.

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