2013 Update - Mr and Mrs!

Well we finally made it!

May I introduce you to my wife, Mrs Funkyronster!

So much has happened in a year or so. I now write this blog more for a diary for us, than a blog for the outside world. But we are happy to share, if it inspires just a single person, then that's cool.

So last time we were in Thailand, waiting for the immigration authorities to do their thing. Well it took 6 months, and a lot of money, but once we employed a solicitor, it was all plain sailing. Luda has to take an English examination in Bangkok, which was a stress, but there was never a problem, she passed with very high marks. Then a 3 inch thick application was couriered to the embassy in Bangkok, where they took 3 excruciating months to process it.

Finally we had one of those seminal moments in life, where the envelope is in your hand, and the decision is only a few fumbling seconds away. And do you know what? You cry either way. The relief that it is all finally over completely overwhelms the emotion of success or failure.

It's horrible to have your destiny in the hands of others, especially a faceless bureaucracy. It's demeaning and dehumanising, and has changed my world view and politics for ever. But that's another story.

So our success was sweet, all the sweeter that we opened the envelope under a palm tree on a tropical beach. Life was good, and we will never forget that magic moment.

Sigh.

The rest of 2012 was a blur ..... our marriage licence ran out on the 22nd of June, and the marriage visa took ages, arriving on the 28th of May! We had three weeks to get home and get married! If we didn't get married by the 22nd of June we would have had to get a new marriage licence which would have been a hassle, and we were clean out of hassles.

So the 22nd of June found us in Ruthin registry office, with 21 close family and friends enjoying what turned out to be a perfect day. 

The 23rd of June 2012 was the first day of the rest of our lives. We had no plans, not even a thought. We had long stopped even thinking about making plans - it was just our way of coping with the stress of not knowing if we would succeed.

So we just decided to drift for a while, enjoying every day as it came. 

We headed north in the van, and spent an idyllic few weeks wandering around the lake District and Scotland.

Then one day the phone rang and tragedy struck - for others, not us, but we received news of not one but two tragic deaths in our friends and family. 

It turned into a summer of sadness, and by the time summer had ended, we had lost several close friends and family, and several more deaths of more distant friends and relatives, and one much loved and faithful dog. One morbid evening we counted the toll ..... and we ran out of fingers.

Such is life. 

So as the weather closed in for winter, we were still in the van, no closer to finding a place to live, or even knowing where and how we wanted to live.

So we did the only thing we could think of, and headed back to Thailand, now our second home, for winter.

Life is so different here, this island has gradually drawn us into it's heart. He have now spent half of the last 3 years here, all of it together. It is almost home.

But we have dear family and friends back home, and limited resources. The party is over, we need to be productive again .......

Where and how ...... that is now the big question in our life.  

2012 Update

So here we are in 2012, waiting for the world to end. Maybe!

After Morocco our lives changed dramatically, and I just didn't have so much desire to blog about my home country, others do it better.

We spent a fantastic 6 months in the UK, introducing Luda to my family and friends, finally! It all went so quickly! She absolutely loved it, and all my folk love Luda.

At the end of the 6 months we decided to spend the winter in Thailand. So the van is laid up in a farmers field in Wales, hibernating! We were not ready for another winter in the van - the engine needs work before we travel far again.

Now we are back on the Thai island of Koh Phangan. Luda is studying more yoga, and I am a beach bum.

Now that Luda has finally succeeded in visiting the UK, we are planning to return this summer to get married. That means yet another visa! So next month we are off to Bangkok. This time we have a lawyer on the case, and are hoping for a smoother time.

Then we will resume our adventures as man and wife ..... or maybe we'll just get a place and call it home. Four years on the road ....... just maybe it's time for some stability.

Or maybe not. Once you travel, it gets under your skin. When travelling you dream about a permanent home, when you stay in one place, you dream about travelling!!

Time will tell.

Success at last!

Well what a carry on! We have been to hell and back, but with a happy ending.

We travelled north to Rabat, where we parked up the van, hooked up the PC and printer, and set to preparing our visa application for Luda to come back to visit the UK with me.

The last time we applied was last year in Kuala Lumpur, and they turned her down flat....twice. So we were advised to keep a record of our relationship, to prove that we were a genuine couple, and not an internet arranged marriage (!!), and apply again in a year.

So this ultimately has been the reason we have had such an epic journey together. It just seemed the best idea to use what we had, ie the van, and visit the countries that we could - ie Ukraine, Turkey and Morocco.

During this time we have had identical visa records in our passports, and a complete financial paper trail of all our expenses.

I had also done extensive online research and taken legal advice from home.

So we were pretty confident that this time we had a credible application, as opposed to the last time, when to be fair it was true that we had only just met, hence the refusal.

How wrong we were!

Once again they refused the application, but this time in terms that plunged us into deep despair. I don't want to go into specifics because in the end not only did they reconsider, but did so in a manner which left us with nothing but praise for the embassy staff here, but it was a very low point for us.

We cried for a day, and then I got really angry!

The manner of the refusal meant that no matter how good the evidence was, or how genuine and law abiding we were, it appeared that they had a general policy of refusal, and we were never going to get a visa, unless we married abroad, and even then there was no guarantee.

But I had to do something, and I could think of no other course of action than to present myself at the embassy and demand to see my ambassador. I knew of course that this was a waste of time, but I had to try nevertheless.

There is no right of appeal for visit visas, except on matters of human rights or discrimination, but you can complain about the process, so I prepared a letter complaining very strongly about the wording of the refusal. Again I can't go into specifics, but it was pretty bad.

Those of you who know me well, know what a hot head I can be, but I am growing up and I knew that this was not the right attitude. So I had steeled myself to be calm and polite. I knew inside that I was going to get nowhere, but I had to do something if only for my self respect.

Now you may have a mental image of a typical British Embassy - a little stately home oasis in a foreign land with a flag flying above, cups of tea, and vestiges of a once great empire......

The reality is heavy security, pat down searches, surly guards and stainless steel security turnstiles reminiscent of a football ground.

But to my utter amazement within ten minutes I was seated in an office in front of a lady vice consul, albeit separated by half an inch of armour plated glass. When asked how she could help me, I simply slid my letter under the glass and said it would be better if she just read it.

This she did, and then said she needed to talk to somebody, and disappeared. Ten minutes later she came back with somebody from the visa section, who then proceeded to have an extremely sympathetic and decent conversation with me, during which I explained my grievance, not with the decision, but the way in which it was worded, and that we were now in such an impossible position that we had no option but to explore every avenue open to us, which was complaint, involving my MP, writing to the Foreign Office and generally being a very angry citizen - all of which was in the letter and was the result of some extensive internet research, as I had discovered we were not the only people to be suffering in this way.

I pride myself in being very well researched in matters like this, and this time it really paid dividends.

The crux of the matter was that they had no proof that Luda would leave the country at the end of her visit. My contention was that it was impossible for anybody to "prove" that they would do anything, but it was absurd that somebody like Luda, who has travelled to many countries over many years, and had the opportunity to abscond at any time, including being married in the past to an American would suddenly consider marooning herself illegally in any country, let alone the UK, as this would effectively end her travelling future, as she could never leave the UK again without immediate discovery and end up in court, deported and barred from travel for years to come.

To cut a long story short, she "suggested" that we apply again, in the light of "new information".

This seemed to me to be an olive branch, which I gratefully accepted, and withdrew my complaint on the basis of a new application. No promises were made, but officials can never make promises anyway.

So we made a new application, and as I have already said, it was successful. 

We returned to the Embassy last Friday, the day of the Royal wedding, to find that the Embassy was closed for a their own party, and told to come back next Wednesday!! This was too much! In desperation I blagged my way up the chain from the security guard, until finally the same lady offical I had met came out through the turnstile, dressed in all her garden party clothes, and handed me Luda's passport, open at the page containing her visa, and with a beaming smile, wished us good luck. And that was that, she was gone, and I was stood there outside the embassy while all the official cars were dropping off the local dignitaries arriving for the Ambassadors garden party to celebrate the wedding of Wills and Sarah!

I can't remember a more poignant moment in my recent life. I walked back to the van in a daze, where Luda was waiting.....in her own personal hell. I had clung on to hope, in the best spirit of British fair play, but Luda, a Ukrainian citizen, and with no such faith, deep down had no such hope, was waiting in despair.

We cried for an hour. As I write this the memory is still fresh and brings tears to my eyes. But the relief! Suddenly all of the positive scenarios became reality, and all of the negative ones just melted away. 

The whole process took 3 weeks, hours and hours of research, typing, emails and STRESS! We tried to live a normal life through it all, but it was impossible. It simply took over every waking minute, and our dreams as well. We were completely frazzled. 

Our lives had reached a crossroads - it all came down to a simple decision by the people who effectively govern our lives and personal freedom. Now is not the time to make political or philosophical points. We are just happy.

Compared with so many people around the world, our little situation has no relevance at all. Boy it sure makes you think!

As Wills and Sarah sip champagne on their honeymoon, boatloads of refugees are drowning between Tunisia and Italy, and thousands more all over the world, sometimes in the news, sometimes not.

And then there are people like me and Luda. Normal people who travel, meet, fall in love and just want to be together. We have met many, and heard even more stories similar to our own, and not always with a happy ending.

I was on the point of giving up - not giving up with Luda, we would have survived regardless, being lucky enough to have enough money and options to stay together even if not in the way we would have wanted. But I was on the point of giving up my faith in the British system, and the principle of the right of a UK citizen to choose a partner regardless of nationality, as long as they were honest.

So we thank that very nice lady at the British Embassy in Rabat, and we thank all of our friends and family who have supported us.

After 3 years of travelling I can finally come home, with the woman I love on my arm. We don't know if we will settle or carry on travelling yet, but at least we now have the freedom of choice. We have a visa for 6 months, ample time to decide what to do next, and find out about our long term options.

Tomorrow we make the rounds of the European Embassies here in Rabat, to see if there is the possibility to get another visa for Europe so we can drive home together in the van, which will be the icing on the cake. Our Morocco visas expire in two weeks, so it's unlikely. If not, Luda will fly and I will drive - can't have everything!!

What a bloody adventure! Sometimes I think I will just wake up and it has all been a dream.

PS.......

TRIVIA......

After months of sand and sun, it's chucking it down! All the repairs I made to the van are solid.....no more wet carpet!

Which is good because we found some lovely Moroccan carpets for the van which look great!

We crossed the Atlas Mountains on another vertigo mountain pass - this time Luda just closed her eyes.

We went to the "other" Sahara ..... in the East of the country in the interior. Spent 4 days in a sandstorm - completely different type of sand....powdery. It got everywhere, and I mean everywhere - food, drink, bodily orifices, bed, bathroom, clothes ....... took 2 days to clean up.

Saw the biggest dunes we have ever seen.......monsters! 

Glad to have had the desert experience, but NEVER, EVER want to see another dune, camel or turban ever again!!

Out of the desert ....... visa time again ......

Well the festival was a washout, not literally. But it co-incided with the start of the recent wave of trouble right across North Africa. Down here the indigenous people and the  occupying Moroccans live uneasily but mainly amicably in peace with each other. It's a bit like the catholics and protestants in Northern Ireland. Most people just want to live their lives in peace, so they do. But the local lads are always up for a punch up, and there is always somebody wanting to make trouble because of something they think they believe in but haven't woken up yet and realised that they are being fed a line by some bloke miles away with an even bigger axe to grind and what better time than when the king pays for a music festivaland there are tourists in town so lets smash a few windows and look threatening, but don't go too far because if we really upset the police we might get shot, or a kicking in the cells at tghe very least.

Phew! So the festival was cancelled after one night, and the tourists left en masse. It was amazing, one day the whole beach was full of vans and tents from all over the place - mostly french motorhomes.....and you should have seen them go! A day later and there were just 4 vans on the beach - us and a convoy of Czech surfer kids who didn't have the slightest clue because they were living the dream man....sleep smoke surf smoke surf smoke eat smoke shag smoke sleep ........ It took us a while to get on nodding terms with them because we looked pretty square to them, but they were nice kids, working back home, saving, and then taking off in a van. Like me! Living the dream.

After that the place was pretty deserted - ha ha pun! Geddit? Desert - ed .......groan.

So then we just settled in to a period of easy living on the beach. We were waiting now for documents to be sent from England to support Luda's up coming visa application in Rabat.

And that has brought up all sorts of memories and issues. It's time to deal with Her Majesties government representatives who get to decide just who can visit our wonderful country. When we applied last year in Kuala Lumpur they turned her down flat. I wasn't blogging then, but still have the emails sent and received, and some reading this will know what we went through. It was simple enough, and although it was hard for us, now I am more familiar with the system, I can't really complain. We had only been together a few months, and they just treated the whole application like it was some Russian bird latching on to a lonely british bloke....in Thailand for god's sake!! So we never had a chance really. They just assumed we were a holiday romance. Can't blame then for that really. It was true at the time. When I finally started to look into it properly and consulted an immigration lawyer back home, he wasn't surprised either. Be together and stay together, and keep a record, and apply again next year, was his advice.

So we have, and in many respects it has been a good thing for us both. We have been living in the motorhome together since August last year, through Ukraine, Turkey and Morocco, an epic trip around the fringes of Europe. It's the same as living in a one room appartment, you are together all the time. That would be a good test of any relationship! And it has been wonderful! We are totally devoted to each other.

So here we are again, this time in Rabat, where perhaps the process will be more pleasant than Kuala Lumpur. You no longer have any contact with the embassy staff. They have a private company who handles the applications. So all you can do is read the website, download the documents, and deliver your application in person, and have your fingers and face scanned.

Having been refused once, we are petrified of it happening again, as it will again force us to separate. I have to go home once a year to tax, mot and insure the van, and of course to visit family. It will be hard to do it alone especially now that everybody who knows me, also knows Luda, and is dying to meet her in person, rather than on Skype. Last year it was quite embarassing to have to repeatedly tell people that my partner was refused a visa - there is quite a stigma about it. If they don't let her in this time, she will fly back to Thailand and resume her Yoga studies, and I will join her as soon as I can after driving the van home and doing my family and paperwork stuff.

The absurd thing is that she doesn't even want or need to go to the UK, except to be with me and meet my family, as I have hers. Neither of us ever want to spend another winter in Europe. We just want to be able to do our stuff together, and enjoy the good fortune we have of having the means and time to travel the world, and not have these enforced separations every year. Everybody says well get married then! And we will, but neither of us want a "shotgun wedding" in some far away place, no matter how romantic. We want to plan it, savour it and enjoy it, at a time and place of our choosing, and with our dearest friends and family. One day we may want to settle down, but it could be anywhere.

So fingers crossed!

Update from the Sahara

We are now in Dakhla, Western Sahara, having had a nice long 2000km drive down through the Atlas mountains and the northern Sahara. Good roads all the way, well except for the "scenic" mountain pass I chose.

The pass was truly spectacular, but very frightening for LUda, who doesn't like sheer drops, so she spent the best bits sat cross legged on the floor of the van, below window level, clutching a packet of cigarettes and a whisky bottle.

Soon we were down on the plain again, and the heavens opened leaving the roads awash with torrents of brown water. Interesting day.

Eventually we reached Dakhla, where I have some friends from my last visit here two years ago.

I was looking forward to arriving in Dakhla for a maintenance stop.

Dakhla is a good place to get work done and spend money on maintenance, as long as you are prepared to supervise closely. The front end of the van has been wobbling around quite alarmingly, with gaps starting to appear, and the inevitable leaks. Can hardly blame the van, it's taken a right pounding over the years! I am really appreciating how solid this van is, considering it was originally designed to take germans on their annual holidays!

Anyway, the plan was to re-build the front end, by taking out the dashboard, thus exposing the structure, and strengthening it by whatever means possible.

We went to a local guy who was recommended. He took one look at it and proposed an entirely different solution to what I had in mind, ie fabricating a whole new dashboard from galvanised sheet steel, and completely replacing the wooden one. This would then act as a structural member.

Well I was up for that, until I saw that all he had for tools was a pair of pliers and an angle grinder.

I won't bore you with the details, but 5 traumatic hours later, he had made and fitted the whole thing by hand. Over the next few dyas I tidied up his work, and was lucky enough to blag some hi-tec engine room insulation from the engineer of the only luxury yacht in the harbour. Talk about right place at right time!

The result is outstanding. The van drives like new and is quiter than before, and when you have had a vehicle as long as I have had this ....you are used to it gradually rattling itself to the scrap yard over many years. It is a true pleasure to end up with a quieter vehicle than before!!

The next job was Luda's birthday present! All she wanted was new curtains and a lobster. Fair enough!

I had been meaning to replace the van curtains for years, and a couple years ago I bought some lovely Peruvian hand stitched pieces, that I thought would make nice curtians. As soon as Luda saw them, she wanted them up! But they are too small, so needed incorporating into proper curtains. So we threw caution to the wind and went material shopping. We had no problem on settling on purple velvet!

We found a lovely woman in a tiny shop with a sewing machine and babies crawling around the floor....and a week later we are sat in what we fondly refer to as our "Ganesha Spaceship purple pussy parlour......" I kid you not.

It just seems to be happening naturally and organically.....we are making a home together. I look after the technical stuff, and she looks after the aesthetic and karma side of things!

And the lobster? I'd like to say that I personally dived off a cliff and wrestled the most succulent lobster from under a huge stone amongst crashing waves ....... but we went to a restaurant instead.

It's the only place in town, and is run by an elegant french lady with a cigarette holder and one of those fluffy lap dogs. She must have a story to tell. I wonder how she ended up with the only european restaurant for a thousand kilometres - in every direction! An oasis of "gourmandise" in a desert of camel burgers and lamb testicles!

Talking about lamb testicles ...... I nearly had to do it again last week, but just avoided it in the nick of time. Call me a soft tourist all you like.....AFTER you eat one, as I did last time I was here two years ago.

So a few days ago we were at the head wetting party of the new born son of my retired army friend. Over here the tradition is to celebrate the birth 7 days after the actual event.......probably a tradition harking back to high infant mortality.

But it's a sheep slaughtering situation. Any bloody excuse to slaughter a sheep! My last experience made me more prepared this time. And especially since Luda wouldn't particularly like it. She respects animal eaters everywhere, but wouldn't choose a ringside seat in the abbatoir, and neither would I.

So I bugged out of the slaughter, and we turned up fashionably late, but clutching gifts.

When the muslim world slaughters a sheep - nothing is wasted.

First dish of the day is Offal Tajine, a tasty concoction of nice vegetables and spices, with all the tasty bits of intestine, lung ....... well you name it, it was all in there.....and some really interesting shapes too! The men eat this for lunch while the women prepare the evening feast


So I knew the balls where in there somewhere, and I knew I was honoured guest, so I knew they were coming my way!

Well forewarned is forearmed, and I had prepared a no-thankyou speech that would have put the US ambassador to North Korea to shame. Diplomacy wasn't the word!

So by the time the chicken came, we were starving! And it was delicious.

After all that activity we needed a break from the dusty town, and we also needed visa extensions, so we set off to the very southern tip of Morocco to the Mauritanian border, 400km further south, and probably the furthest south I will ever go in this van.

The paperwork was a formality, which makes a change! We had been told to "ask for Ali", and give him 20 euros, which we did, and we were in and out in half an hour, clutching our passports, ready for another 3 months! If only the British Embassy was so easy!

We then drove back slowly, enjoying some stunning desolate desert scenery on the way.

Next week is the Dakhla International Music Festival ............ more on that later.

I made a youtube video!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IAEWK0fHnII

I can't caption the photos, so you can work out the captions yourself!

Colour co-ordinated van in the desert......

Luda incognito......

Ron takes a hot sulphurous desert shower......

New curtains!.......

The Big Drive......

The Drive

Well what an epic adventure!

Turkey, Greece, Italy, France, Spain and finally Morocco. Six
countries in 10 days, three boats and five thousand kilometres of
road.

And without a hitch......not a puncture, or a policeman in sight
...... and despite the trip being on high quality motorways, a feast
of sights, smells and weather. And some of the finest engineering I
have ever seen. The Greeks, Italians and French don't let little
things like mountains and rivers get in the way. They tame them almost
arrogantly with magnificent bridges, spectacular viaducts and endless
tunnels. And then, having paid for it all with your tax money.....they
charge you extra for the privelege of using them! I paid over £200 in
tolls alone from Greece to Spain, adding twenty per cent to my total
energy bill for the journey.

The drive north through Turkey was interesting, it changes noticeably
as you drive north, and the temperature plummeted. While most people
back home were experiencing the big freeze and chaos. I was lucky
enough to be just far south enough to escape the worst of it. But it
sure was cold. I spent a week in long johns and thermals and sleeping
fully clothed! The third day driving across Greece was sunny and
bright, but as soon as I got off the ferry in Italy, I had howling
winds and horizontal snow. By the time I got to Marseille it was minus
7 in Provence, and spectacularly pretty.

There I took my first break, staying with friends in Marseille, eating
fine food, drinking fine wine, and enjoying a brief exposure to one of
the most civilised countries in the world. After the supermarkets of
Ukraine and Turkey, a trip round Carrefour in Marseille had me
drooling like a rescued shipwrecked sailor. Knowing I was bound for
another country where stuff is rare and expensive, and with Christmas
looming, and with a wonderful woman to welcome home, I took the
opportunity to shamelessly stock up on goodies of all descriptions.

My attempts to make the journey more comfortable by catching a long
ferry from France to Tangier had failed, so I had no choice but to
drive all the way. The drive from Marseille to Algeceiras near
Gibraltar, about 1500km, I had done many times, and is not
particularly pretty. So it was a case of just get on with it.

For me, driving long distance is like meditation. It's thinking time.
All the things you have had churning around your mind for ages, but
never had time to think about properly, all come bubbling up to the
surface on a long drive. My van is an especially cool vehicle for long
trips. A nice steady and safe 55 mph, panoramic windows, a soft drink
to hand and cool tunes on the music system. You settle into a rhythm
and the time and miles just fly by.

Sometimes it can be a negative experience. When you open all the doors
of your mind for a spring clean, you know in advance what to expect,
but nevertheless it has to be done, and you always feel refreshed
afterwards, regardless of the consequences. Your mind is clear, you
know what you have to do to move forward.

But this time my cupboards contained nothing but good things, other
than a few cobwebs that were easily dusted away.

As the miles flew by and the countries and landscape changed, my mood
lifted and soared. There I was, cruising across Europe, on my way to a
new and exciting country to start a new life with a wonderful woman.
And best of all, a gradual awareness that my house is in reasonable
order. In fact I am bloody HAPPY!

Five years ago I was a suicidal drunken wreck, unable to work,
terminally depressed, cynical and negative.

That's all I can say about it - you can work the rest out for yourself
- my story is no different. The delicious irony is that you can't
really appreciate the good times without having experienced the bad.

The turning point for me was a single hour in the port of Igoumenitsa,
Greece, waiting for the boat to Italy. The place was a really pretty
Greek coastal town, close to Corfu and the Albanian border. It is the
favoured route from Greece to the rest of the EU, as it allows you to
avoid the mess that remains after the former state of Yugoslavia.

I had six hours to kill, and spent a very pleasant few hours in a
waterfront restaurant. When I came out and was climbing back into the
van, I was doorstepped by an illegal immigrant, one of hundreds of
dark hooded figures I had seen loitering desperately around the port.
If you travel a lot, you get used to dealing with all sorts of needy
people, from beggars to destitute to chancers. You have to develop the
skill of rejecting people without upsetting them or yourself.....too
much.

But this guy had something about him, an air of respectability, and
pretty good English too. Turned out he was Moroccan - my destination!
There I was trying to get in, and there he was, trying to get out.
Maybe it was the wine, maybe my state of mind, but something prevented
me from sending him away gently. So I sat him down, made some tea, and
we traded life stories for an hour.

In a nutshell he was a skilled motor body engineer, and had had a good
job in Morocco. Decent family, father and elder brother in the army. A
former black belt in Akido, and a skilled footballer. No doubt he was
the black sheep of the family, and probably rebelled. Reading between
the lines he went off the rails, took to drinking and smoking and
generally let himself go. Probably got in with a bad crowd. In the
middle of it all his girlfriend got pregnant, gave birth to a baby
boy, and emigrated to the UK, Liverpool of all places, right on my own
doorstep. There was probably a lot more to it than that. Muslim
families are very close knit, and you are either in, or out. Her
family probably rejected him, and packed her off to relatives in
Liverpool to start a new life.

Having pulled himself together, and exhausted all other possibilities,
he set out on the long and risky road of illegal emigration. No chance
of any visa, no other choice. Via Egypt, Cyprus and Greece, he finally
made it Igoumenitsa. Greece is unique in the EU in that it is
physically isolated from the rest of the EU countries. All the
countries that border Greece are not part of the "Schengen" countries,
those that have no border controls between each other.

He had already been to Italy underneath a caravan, only to be caught
on the other side and just dumped back on the same ship within hours.
Forget all this "claiming asylum" malarkey. The system is ruthless and
insensitive. Any sort of legal intervention means they then have to be
recorded, which leads to statistics, which leads to recognition, which
leads to politics. Far more efficient to just dump them straight
back.....no arrest, no charity workers......just back and turned out
outside the fence of the docks. Some of them make it through - fine,
someone else's problem. But officially, they don't exist. How would
you like to "officially" not exist?

I saw no evidence of charity groups or support, no soup kitchens,
nothing....just a very heavy police and security presence.

All this guy wanted was to see his child. He even had some support
from Liverpool. They had tried to wire him 50 euros via Western Union,
but the local Western Union office had been INSTRUCTED by somebody,
not to deliver wired funds to any illegal alien. This alone made my
blood boil.

The only thing that stopped me stowing him away under the bed was the
fear of getting caught. I would have taken the risk as a political
statement, I would have probably only got a slap on the wrists. But
uppermost was the selfish desire not to jeopardise my imminent
rendezvous with my own loved one.

And I was right to do so, as I experienced the most thorough search I
had ever had on my travels in the van, as I entered the port a few
hours later. They would have found him for sure.

So we cried on each others shoulder, smoked cigarettes, and he
eventually left with whatever I could give him, the most important of
which was some friendship and support. Some love. He promised to keep
in touch. Good luck to Saheed.

So that grounded me.

A few days later I was on the grottiest dirtiest Moroccan ferry I had
ever had the misfortune to encounter........welcomed into his country
with open arms. And a few hours after that in the arms of my lovely
woman at Casablanca airport. A few hours later, after a stupendous
sunset drive from Casablanca to Marrakesh, with the Atlas mountains
rising majestically from the horizon, we were seated in a walled
garden restaurant in the old quarter of Marrakesh, celebrating our
reunion.

Now it is Christmas Eve 2010. We sit by the side of the Atlantic
Ocean, sipping Spanish supermarket sparkling fizz, nibbling on little
luxuries.....and on each other.

I am enjoying this time in my life. I appreciate it all the more given
the hard times. But my hard times, and probably the hard times of most
of the people who read this.....are relative. I feel so lucky to have
had my "accident of birth".

I hesitate to moralise, but also feel it's my duty, especially at this
time of year. We are so lucky to be part of the civilised West. But we
consume more than four times more than our globally fair share. the
Americans nine times more. Two billion and more exist only to survive.
I have spent hours wondering just what an individual can do. There are
no easy answers.

But what everybody can do is just be aware of the situation. Spare it
some thought, choose a charity, read wisely, influence friends,
challenge selfishness and bigotry......use your vote. Be aware.

Luda and I wish you a very happy Christmas.

Here we go again!

Well we have had a very restful time in Turkey, but now it is time to move on again. Our visas expire at the end of December.

Next stop Morocco! Or to be more specific the occupied territory of Western Sahara. It's a long way down into Africa, even further south than the Canary Islands. In fact is it as far south as you can drive on normal documents.

The journey is 6000 km!! That's 12 days at 500 a day, and that is too hard going for me! Ideally we would be dreaming about a leisurely drive through the Balkans, Italy, France, Spain and Portugal, where I have good friends.

But as usual the authorities have something to say about that! Luda needs visas - I need none!

We were hoping to get her visas in Turkey, but the rules say she has to apply in Ukraine. Then we found that it is ILLEGAL in Ukraine to send a passport via post or courier. So now she has to fly to Ukraine in the middle of winter to get her visas, and I have to stay in Turkey. I can't go with her because I can't leave Turkey without my van. And we can't go in the van because she has no visas to cross Bulgaria and Romania! Confused? Yeah tell me about it.

So we have been busy online researching and had to come up with a plan.

The Moroccan visa is no problem - we are told. She will get that in a few days. But the EU visa is a different matter. She has to apply to the Greek consulate in Odessa, and institution not known for its efficiency. Anyway, they will either say yes or no. If yes she will fly back to Turkey and we will enjoy the drive together.....if no, I will hit the road alone and get a head start, and she will fly to Casablanca, where we will re-unite and enjoy the drive south through Morocco.

In that case I will want the fastest way from A to B, and that will mean driving to a greek port near Corfu, jumping a ferry to Ancona in northern Italy, a short drive to Genoa, and then a long 2 day ferry ride direct to Tangier in Morocco. Should take about 5 or 6 days in total. (and a shedload of dollars!.....although I worked it out that it will be cheaper than driving all the way)

Her ladyship will skip down the steps of her personal 757, to find me and the van, steaming and knackered, having driven and shipped all 4.5 tonnes of me the entire length of the Mediterranean in a week! "Taxi to the Sahara, Madame?".

Then we have a further 3000km to drive down the entire length of Morocco to the town of Dakhla, the last town in Morocco before Mauritania, Senegal, and Africa proper.

I will write about Dakhla in future posts, but I spent 4 months there 2 years ago.

Luda is not that keen on the trip to Ukraine, but she will get to see her mother and son and pick up 20kg more of her gear. It may be quite a while before she sees them again.

Life in Turkey has been nice. My sisters place has a fantastic location, with sunsets to die for! It's a nice working fishing village, more a small town. I am told it is full of villa owners and tourists in Summer, but in December expats number about 6! We have met a few people and made one new good friend - Charlie, a young guy who is a mining engineer locally. Originally drinking buddies to improve his English, we soon struck up a friendship. He has helped us enormously with all things Turkish.

The van, having spent 2 months parked outside, forgotten save for the odd shopping trip, is now away at various local garages being fixed and serviced ready for the trip.

Those Ukrainian roads took their toll, as we found 2 broken leaf springs on the rear wheels, and I hadn't even noticed! The other springs have been taking the strain, but the next one to go would have resulted in some real damage. Yesterday I watched as 4 Turkish lads with minimum equipment, jacked up the van, and removed the entire spring in 20 minutes. The boss of the place then produced 2 new springs from stock (!) and I was back on the road in 2 hours. They don't mess around!

A week ago we were invited to Izmir to a small party. Having not partied for many months, we decided to go, and had an absolute whale of a time. Izmir is the most liberal and cosmopolitan of Turkey's big cities, and has a fabulous location. We parked the van right on the pavement outside the small backstreet club, and had our own evil looking Kurdish security guards "guaranteeing" to look after the van while we partied inside. It was cool to come in and out of the party and chill out in the van. We didn't leave until the next evening, when we saw the most spectacular sunset in living memory. A photo would not have done it justice, and we had no camera anyway. But it was amazing. As the sun set over the harbour, the last rays streaming across the water highlighting all the buildings and features of Izmirs many hills, the sky was alive with incredibly diverse cloud patterns and aircraft trails, and the whole lot was cycling through the most amazing shades of red, orange and purple. We just sat there on the promenade in silence.......nothing needed to be said.

On the drive back we passed a huge salt lake that in ancient times was sea. Old ruins were just poking out of the water.......just like buried villages in a new reservoir, only this was 2000 years old.

Turkey is full of surprises.

We shall be happy and sad in equal measure to leave.