Sunday, September 16, 2007

This took for friecken EVER

A friend of mine (who shall remain nameless;-) send me this...

"""Be a better Globetrotter. Get better travel answers from someone who knows. Yahoo! Answers - Check it out."""

What in goodness name is that suppose to mean? That's like the latest "Responsible Travel." Is someone suggesting that I'm traveling "Irresponsibly?"
"Be a better Globetrotter. Get the answers from someone who knows." LOOOOoooooooooooL

Here are a few of my globerotting experiences...

Memories of Checkpoints in Yemen:
Waiting ten days for travel permits from the Minister of Defense. Explanation? "We need a green light. The Minister has not arrived in his office. The Minister has not arrived at his home. The Minister is at home, but he is not answering his phone." Finally..."no one can find the Minister of Defense." End result: permits are signed by the acting director.

Checkpoint day one:
A large sun baked space of nothingness. Broken stone huts and caved in army tents buried half way with sand. Ruined trucks and dismantled cars. Mountains of trash. Soldiers in ragged uniforms nursing their sub-machine guns. The road is choked with lorries, oil trucks, taxis, bad tempers, and fear of getting stuck in a nightmare. Hallo Yahoo!!!! Please tell me O wise one what would you do?

Checkpoint day two:
Soldiers surround our Land Rover. Hamdi, our Bedouin driver, disappears into the military tents. Bad news: we need a military escort and none are available. A soldier explains: "sorry, but we do not have enough guns or bullets." Permits are taken away.

Checkpoint day three:
The Land Rover was not a tourist car but a business one. Permits are taken away. Hamdi gets a splitting headache. I give him one of my pain pills and just for precaution I take one.

Checkpoint day four:
Hamdi is asked into the tent where he has to answer the soldiers questions all over again. Bad news: the written dates on the permits are wrong. Permits are taken away again. On the way back to Sana'a the exhaust pipe collapses and is mended with my bandages. Hamdi wants to go and chew quat and I take a Zanax. I also demand to see the Minister of whatever who signed the permits. He agreed to see me in his office. I show him the permission papers with stamps and signatures. He looks at the paper and nods his head, "yes yes you have permission. But please tell me...what does permission mean to you?"

Now I don't know what the above experienced Globetrotter advise would be. Here is mine. Logic and efficiency has no meaning here. Period! The only thing that will save you is a speedy psychological adjustment. Failure to achieve this attitude adjustment will expose westerners to real dangers: a nervous breakdown, a freak out, a need for heavy sedation, or temporary dementia. I opted for the sedation...waited a week and hired someone who knew his way around without permits. We traveled via the smuggling route. And we had a blast. That's what I call a real Globetrotter experience. I'll try to post a picture of him. Oyvee...bad idea. LOOOL