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Published: February 5th 2010
What started as a glorious idea to buy a landrover and travel overland to the South Africa 2010 World Cup with a bunch of mates undertaking copious amounts of charity work has since become what it is: me (and no mates) travelling by any means (landrovers less likely) to the WC (World Cup, not toilet) with a focus on survival and not on charity work (although you never know).
One thing has come to fruition: I'll be meeting my mates, Walshy and Alex, in SA, and we'll be attending three matches together. Holland v Denmark in Johannesburg, Slovakia v Paraguay (go on Roque!) in Bloemfontein and Nigeria v South Korea in Durban. The lads will then return to their homes (England and Japan, respectively) and I'll travel on to Cape Town for the second round match between the first placed team in Group H (Spain, have you seen their group?) and the second placed team in group G (Brazil, Portugal or Ivory Coast).
Inspiration came from a variety of sources. I previously spent six months in East Africa, mainly Tanzania. I loved the place and I loved the people. I have always wanted to return to see how some of the children I taught have developed and to see some of my friends. I was also inspired by Boorman and McGregor's 'Long Way Down' gig. The route they took is a very similar one to that which I will be taking (see the map) but my trip will differ in one big way from their trip: I'll whinge less. I was also inspired by 'Blood River' by Tim Butcher. It was one of the most enthralling travel books I've ever read, documenting the journalist's journey up the Congo River. There was also the generosity of my civil service employers who see career breaks such as this as 'developmental' and, finally, there was the (rather large) carrot of a World Cup at the end of the journey.
Before I'd even secured tickets for games, in December 2009, it had become apparent that, of all the countries I'd be passing through, Libya would require substantial planning. The issue with Libya is that free travel is not permitted due to some petty theft on the part of western tourists some 20 years ago. After emailing several Libyan tour companies in October 2009 (and dropping the words 'Lonely' and 'Planet' into correspondence in order to expedite proceedings) I finally received confirmation of my itinerary from Ocean/Almuheet Tours in January 2010. This only came after I'd faxed Ocean Tours the the bio-data page of my passport and an Arabic translation of the same page. It sounds simple enough, but isn't. In order to obtain the Arabic translation you have to first obtain the appropriate template from the Identity and Passport Service in Victoria. Easy enough. Then you have to obtain a list of approved translators from the Libyan Embassy. Very challenging. After (I'm not exaggerating) about 40 phone calls I finally got through to a lady who gave me the mobile number for Mr and Mrs Smith and informed me that they were the only translators approved by the embassy. I called 'Mr Smith' and, after finding out I lived in Feltham, he requested that I meet him outside Hounslow East Station at 7pm that evening with £50 in my hand. I took my 6ft5" flatmate, Biggsy, and was at the front of the queue for the only cash machine outside the bustling station when a lady walked up behind me and asked me if I was there for the translation. How did she know who I was? Experience, apparently. And she laughed when I called her Mrs Smith. Her name is Faroukh. Isn't that a man's name? Anyway, she was a very pleasant Libyan lady and leant on the side of the ticket counter as she wrote 'Ashford, Middlesex...' in Arabic. When she'd finished she stamped her work ('This is an official translation') and smiled as she requested the £50. £10 per minute. Not bad. Anyway, it did the trick and my Libyan adventure has since been organised and finalised.
The rest of my preparations have been somewhat event free. Visas, injections, country research, hounding of African contacts and relentless money-saving exploits have proved effective. I now feel ready to go. The journey begins on Sunday 7th of February with a lift to Milan in the lorry of my step-father's brother's friend (fellow civil servants, i appreciate this sounds like a Sri Lankan asylum claim, but it is true). Today I said goodbye to my beautiful girlfriend, Bex. That, for me, was and will be the hardest part of the trip. Now that it's done I've got the whole trip to look forward to.
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Tricky
non-member comment
Chilling
Truely chilling and completely incredible. You didnt even know the name of the haulage firm that your "step-fathers brothers's friend worked for.................................. It considered that you are infact attempting clandestine entry into an EU Member state for "other" purposes.