German Military Cemetary in El Alamein
15 May 2012
Matruh, Egypt.
We drove in from Marsa Matrouh, where we spent one night. We wanted to take it easy, so decided to only drive a hundred kilometres or so and then find a place to camp cheaply (preferably for free). After speaking to people at the 3-4 hotels under development (there are literally dozens being built in the area along the coast to cater for the Cairese on holiday), we discovered that the reason we had been so thoroughly unsuccessful in finding somewhere to set up was that we needed permission from the army to stay in the area. We decided that trying to get this permit would be futile without greasing some palms, so had no option but to push onto El Alamein, some 70 kilometres down the road.
We drove into El Alamein and spotted a German World War 2 cemetery on our route. Aware of the historic significance of El Alamein (being the second place the Gemans & Italians lost a battle, the first of which was the Battle of England), we decided to stop and have a look. When we drove up, we were greated by Moniem, who almost immediately invited us to stay on his family’s land, upon which the cemetery is located. Soon afterwards, we decided to make the most of this hospitality and stay for two days.
In the two days that followed, we went into the desert, swimming in the sea, saw the small town of El Alamein and enjoyed the sun setting in the sea from our vast, empty campsite. In the desert you can visit an underground hospital, a small pyramid which remembers the crash and death of a pilot, or go out with a metal detector to find WW2 stuff left behind. Even if you are not looking for a campsite, the cemetery itself is also very impressive and provides a great view from the roof. On the last night, we were invited into Moniem’s family home where we drank traditional Egyptian tea and enjoyed the bedouin hospitality.
The campsite is located alongside the German War Cemetery, which is difficult to miss on the drive to Alexandria or Cairo from Marsa Matrouh (and the border with Libya). The coordinates are N30 53.356 E28 52.499. Perhaps until traffic from Libya picks up, or the place becomes known among travellers in the area, it is better to contact Moniem Rauf directly via +20 122 351 3401 or moniem.elalamein@yahoo.com.
He without a plan sleeps in the desert
14 May 2012
Matruh, Egypt.
We have been making good progress eastwards across North Africa towards Cairo, from where we will turn south. Libya turned out to be a pleasant surprise, full of warm, hospitable people who were happy to see us. We were slightly worried that Egypt would turn out to be a cold shower, full of people with the sole intention of making some “bakshees” (money/tip) off the tourists passing by. Although that is certainly the case in some popular areas, the rest of the country (as far as we have seen it) is also very friendly.
After a complex, time-consuming and sometimes stressful time at the Egyptian border, we drove into Salloum. This small town lies below the highland on which the border station is located, right on the sea. We spent about two and a half hours at the border (3 hours is normal) and drove into Salloum just over an hour before sunset. The hotels were full or sub-standard, meaning that we preferred to sleep in the car than on a mattress crawling with cockroches. So, we drove out of the small border town, hoping to find something in the next place. We called on some army guys for help (the area is littered with army bases like much of the rest of Egypt at the moment), but they could only point us down the road to the next town. Typical for travelling without a plan, an opportunity lay around the corner. We were overtaken by a man who was traditionally dressed in a white gown and driving the most common car in this part of Africa: the Toyota pick-up. Perhaps even more typical, he did not speak a word of English or any other language Twan or I speak to some extent. After some pointing and universal signalling from window to window (while he was driving on the wrong side of the road with oncoming traffic) we decided to make contact with Joris & Merel from expanding-horizons.eu (with whom we travelled through Libya) and ask them to follow us. The car suddenly turned into the desert and, at tremendous speed, we drove down what was barely a track. A moment of doubt was followed by a feeling of adventure. Soon we spotted another truck on the horizon. What followed was a welcome with Egyptian tea (strong tea with as much sugar as water) from six local men from Salloum, none of whom spoke English, who seemed to gather here regularly to get away from their wife near the end of the day. A campfire was made, music played, singing started, photos were shown and videos too (sometimes gruesome images of slaughtered sheep and fights in neighbouring Libya). They immediately seemed to like us, and after an hour or so they offered to let us stay for dinner. A fantastic night ensued in the desert with large insects, an ever growing campfire and exchanges of culture. We looked at the stars and I was able to see more of them than I had ever seen before. Close to midnight, we opened our tents and went to sleep. A night to remember.
Post-war syndrome hospitable Libya
7 May 2012
Tubruq, Al Butnan, Libya.
We arrived in the Tunisian border town of Ben Guardane in the late afternoon on the 4th of May. We had been travelling around Tunisia for several days, and enjoyed the culture, hospitality and diverse landscapes. We visited a Ksar (berber village), the Roman colosseum at El Jem and met many friendly people along the way. Ben Guerdane was a typical border town: lots of people waving cash around for exchange, many expensive foreign cars and a bit dirty & chaotic. We saw an internet café and decided to stop to check the current situation in Libya. The owner spoke English and pointed us towards the bank, hotel and various other essential stops. Needless to say, before our friends Joris & Merel from expanding-horizons.eu arrived, we were reading a book outside with a drink, totally relaxed.
The next day we got up early and headed down the road towards the Libyan border. Along the way, we passed an enormous UN refugee camp, which gave us a harsh reminder of the situation we were driving into. We had no idea what the procedure was at the Tunisian border post, but being the only tourists to enter Libya by road for some time, we were singled out and thoroughly questioned about the purpose of our visit. On the Libyan side of the border, things were easier; we were even greeted in fluent Dutch! One of the border guards (who had been shot in the arm and was carrying a mitella) had spent time in Holland, and on occasion even visited Eindhoven. We were given a warm welcome and offered a sincere appology for having to wait a fraction of the time it took on the Tunisian end. Our business visas, arranged by Libya Travel & Tours who also booked our hotels and provided us with a vast amount of information, were checked. The militia guarding the border all shook hands with us, asked us where we were from and why we were here (“transit to Egypt” sufficed everywhere despite the business visas). Our carnet du passage was not valid in Libya (or so it said with a big stamp on each page), but we never needed it, and we not required to purchase anything for the Land Rover at the border.
Immediately after entering Libya, the waving, welcoming and honking started. Everybody was delighted to see us. We were in turn delighted to see the first gas station with diesel (commonly called “NAFTA” here), not only because we were were running low, but also to confirm the incredibly low price of around €0.10 per litre! The hospitality was un-ending; if you ask the way to a hotel, you aren’t simply pointed in the right direction, or even given directions for that matter; no, you are driven under escort to the hotel, even if it is on the other side of the city. We were also offered “help” at nearly every checkpoint, and there are many (although you can usually drive through and there is never a line). I am sure they would have been happy to provide us with a city-to-city escort if we had have asked. Perhaps they would have used one of the many tanks we saw. Twan could fill entire photo-albums with them, blown up or fully operational, a trophy or a reminder of sacrifice, and Joris was even invited to sit in one. The artillery, as seen on the news (on the back of pick-ups), can be seen at every checkpoint and seems to be ready to shoot down anything that threatens the new, free Libya.
Our route through Libya was simple: from the border with Tunisia to Misrata (through Tripoli and visiting the famous Roman city, Leptis Magna), then one long drive to Bengazi (well over 1000km), and then to Tobruk (visiting the tourist sites of Cyrene and Appelonia), and then heading for the Egyptian border, not too far to the east. Needless to say, after day two, we felt so welcome and were so fascinated with the country that we contemplated staying a few days longer, but our hotels were already booked, so we drove on. The hotels in Libya were all excellent, easily in the 3-star category, while even more luxury would have been possible. Safe parking for our cars was paramount, and possible at every hotel.
The two main points of interest, besides the battle for Sirte, Ras Lanuf etc. and the destruction of anything Gaddafi-related (even entire villages), were Leptis Magna and Cyrene. Without tourists these sites are absolutely mesmerising, like you have just walked into the Lost City or have found Atlantis. No tourists to ruin your photo, no children cying, no rubbish… Just pure ancient ruins, some thousands of years old, most of which are in excellent condition. The city is so large we had an archeologist working on-site to point us in the right direction. Cyerene is much older and dates back to the Ancient Greeks, making it just as impressive but harder to imagine how amazing things must have looked.
Being on the road in Libya is an experience in itself. The endlessly long stretches of coastal-road offer anything from camels right alongside the road, to car & tank wrecks and fata morganas. The condition of the roads is excellent; damage from shells has been repaired, and if the road is still in a poor condition, they are certainly working on it. The coastal road east to west is essential for trade and a good relationship between Tripolitana in the west and Cyrenaica in the east. This does not, however, mean that driving in Libya can be considered “safe”. Like before the revolution, they still drive like idiots. On some sections, people were driving against the traffic, effectively making a dual-carriageway into a two-lane road with arrows clearly pointing in the opposite direction. Roundabouts are total anarchy too, however, we observed a most fascinating phenomenon in the city centre of Misrata; here the traffic lights were not working yet, so people self-regulated the busy intersections. The traffic from one direction will be driving, while all the others patiently wait. If the one side thinks they have waited for long enough, they start honking and then driving. The other drivers then stop while the ones who had been waiting continue to drive until those who are now waiting are fed up: a most interesting piece of cooperation in the interest of all parties involved. My advice on surviving Libyan traffic would be: follow the locals, but do not pick up their driving habits unless you have a deathwish!
In conclusion, Libya is a wonderful country that is suffering from the post-war syndrome that is creating an almost tangible feeling of togetherness among its population, and making everybody more hospitable and warm towards outsiders visiting their country.
Africa in sight
3 May 2012
Sfax, Tunisia.
We have now been on the road for about a week and a half. Things are going well: the car is performing outstandingly and we are making good progress on our journey through Europe to North-Africa. Since my last post, we reached the south of Italy from where we were to take a ferry from Villa San Giovanni, on the tip of Italy’s mainland, to Messina in Sicily. The ferry goes roughly every hour, so its rather like catching a train. We were pushed onto the ferry with rapid hand-waving and then walked to the top deck. On the stairs, the first Italian stereotype was confirmed: Italians, and in particular Sicilians, are, on average, old. This confirmation comes from the two dozen or so eldely women, many hunched over and walking in slippers, making their way up the stairs. Italy seems to be divided between rural parts, where this picture of an ageing population is very true, and the cities, which are dominated by black Audis and young businessmen in tightly cut suits.
The ferry took us to the lovely city of Messina, where the streets are wide and the many old buildings set an authentic atmosphere. We spent three days on Sicily. It’s an island with a beautiful and diverse landscape, sometimes dominated by green forrests and fruit orchards, and sometimes by brown, scorched mountains. We watched the first part of The Godfather on a camp site, which made both the scenery and the film more special.
On our last day, we made our way to the western tip of the Island to Trapani, to catch the ferry to Tunisia. However, while we were looking for the right dock, Twan got a call that the ship was delayed for a few hours. Perhaps more importantly, the friendly woman on the phone informed us that we were in the wrong city; our ferry was to depart from Palermo rather than Trapani! So we drove the 100km or so to Palermo, checked in with the friendly and interested officials, spent some time in the city centre and watched the second part of The Godfather on the docks until the ship pulled into port and we could get on. The ship itself was soon filled with countless bodies lying on the cold floor, most of them wrapped in blankets on sleeping mats or anything else remotely comfortable. We decided, although formally forbidden in both Italian and Arabic (neither language I speak or read), to sleep in our car on the lower deck. An undisturbed night was the result. In fact, the only thing making the experience less than comfortable was the deep penetrating sound of the ship’s engines.
The next morning, we went up to top deck only to be nearly blown off it by the strong winds. However, even through the horrid, almost painful, wind, we got our first glimpse of Africa: the mountains of Tunisia on the horizon, perhaps some 50 kilometres away. After that, we spent some time reading on the restaurant deck until we pulled into port. We had been filled with horror stories about getting into Tunisia, but the whole experience was rather painless and took less than 30 minutes.
On our first day in Tunisia we saw Carthago, which was rather disappointing. The area had obviously seen investment, but few actual Romain remains were left. A little disillusioned, but unremittingly enthusiastic about finding the “real” Tunisia, we set off through the capital, Tunis, to Nabeul.
Later that day, in Nabeul, we found what we thought was a camp site. In fact, the guys from Auberge de Jeunesse de Nabeul were still hard at work finishing their “camping international”,which was beautifully situated alongside the beach. We even lent a hand when they painted the traditional Tunisian blue colour on the outer metalwork. Nabeul itself is a small city of past glories; like many places in Tunisia, the tourists have left, perhaps now only to be found in the tourist hotspots we are so keen to avoid. Many of the older inhabitants speak Arabic, French, German, English and the Dutch phrase “allemachtig prachtig” (please shoot whoever came up with that). The people were, like everywhere in Tunisia, incredibly hospitable and friendly.
The next day, we moved on towards Sfax, and visited the colloseum at El Jem. Here, there is one of the best preserved Roman colloseums in the world, which is meant to be spectacularly touristic. However, although there were plenty of facilities and souvenir shops, here too there were few tourists. The site itself is impressive, particularly the underground cells and hallways and the view from the balcony. After making our way through the crazy Tunisian traffic, a few kilometres down the road in an internet cafe, we hopefully fixed our satellite communicator (DeLorme InReach), which has worked well so far save for the fact that it eats batteries for breakfast, dinner and lunch and we haven’t been able to pair it with the Android phone until today.
We are now camping outside a beachside hotel on a parking lot in Mahres. Tomorrow we head south for the desert pistes…
The start of our journey
30 April 2012
Trapani, Sicily, Italy.
After preparing for about a year and a half, we finally left on Sunday 22nd of April. Expecting only a small, family departure, we were surprised by the large number of people who had shown up for the occasion. Not only were our families there, including some rarely seen distant cousins, but we were also pleased to see that friends and the dispute we both belong to had made their way south to Twan’s hometown of Sint Odiliënberg. Twan’s mother, Gerry, had arranged a buffet that provided a wonderful brunch for everyone in attendance. After singing the dispute song, twice, to please our audience, and saying goodbye to our parents and brothers, we drove off, heading south. Of course, you don’t immediately take it in that our departure had become a reality, instead of the dream we had planned for over the past few months; something that carries such weight and with so many implications takes several days to sink in.
Heading south, we drove through the hidiously ugly city of Liége, trying to press on through the occasional rain shower while also saving fuel by driving no faster than 85 km/h, which has paid off so far with our fuel consumption being well over 9.5 km per litre of diesel. Twan has carefully kept track of our mileage and the number of litres of diesel going in and out of the tank, even putting everything in a neat spreadsheet!
The first two nights we roughed it by camping out in the woods. We had quite a bit of rain, particularly on day 2 on a narrow muddy track around Chemin de Coutelieu near Lyon. All of our equipment has performed outstandingly well so far: the tent, cooking appliances, bread-making machine, power converter, water tank and filter etc. What’s more, the Land Rover is performing flawlessly except for some vibration in the steering wheel from time to time at just over 80 km/h. Perhaps this is the wheel alignment, but any advice on this matter would be welcome.
On day 3 we reached the Côte d’Azur and travelled through Nice, Cannes and Monaco. Twan really wanted to visit the small country of Monaco, as he had never been there. So, after bearing in mind that we would be driving a 2.5 ton truck into the most densely populated area in the world, which also has major altitude differences and probably more scooters (they always make me nervous) than inhabitants, we decided to go for it and drove into the famous city. We were slightly nervous, but had our camera at the ready and a video recorder mounted on the roof rack (it was aimed too low, unfortunately, so the footage was disappointing). Slowly driving through the city, while making some hairpin turns, we saw most of the 1.6 square kilometres and turned more heads than the many expensive Ferraris overtaking us. We got out safely though and were perhaps a bit more confident for the experience.
From Monaco, we quickly drove into Italy, where we are now, with its picturesque landscapes and beautiful light blue sea. On day 4, we were looking for a camp site in the city of Savona, but discovered that ridiculous prices were being charged for a night’s stay. Concluding that it must be some sort of cartel or mafia site, we decided to try our luck inland! The camp site that we found on the map had long since closed, so we decided to find a quiet place to stop. Twan walked up a narrow, steep track looking for a good spot when he was met by a car. Indicating that he was looking for a place to sleep, he was pointed downhill. There, we were met by a lovely woman, her husband and daughter, who offered us one of their rooms for hire. Later that evening, after a nice dinner, we sat out on the terrace overlooking a beautiful valley that had no lights except ours. We smoked a pipe and drank a glass of red wine. Now our trip had really started…
Since then, we have driven some distance to the south of Italy, from where we took a quick ferry to Sicily. On Monday the 30th of April at 23.59 hours we leave the European continent, and take an overnight-ferry to Tunis, Tunisia.
A word of thanks before our departure
20 April 2012
Eindhoven, Noord-Brabant, The Netherlands.
Two days before our departure, it seems right to thank all those involved. We could not have organised our expedition without the help of family & friends and sponsors. Likewise, information from fellow-travellers and the assistance of those who have contributed in other ways has been invaluable. Many of you are mentioned on the Partner page, but there are also those who have showed their support in other ways, or have created an account on Wakibi or Kiva. We would like to thank everybody from the bottom of our heart. We will now enjoy our trip and hope to return safely!
Departure on Sunday 22 April
17 April 2012
Eindhoven, Noord-Brabant, The Netherlands.
It’s busy this week, very busy! We’re planning to leave on Sunday the 22nd of April, so a lot needs to happen before then. On Monday we applied for our visas for Libya, for which the paperwork has been very professionally handled by Libya Travel & Tours. We also dealt with some minor electrical problems with the car at Beek Classic Wire in Houten. On Tuesday, we’re picking up our spare parts and changing our tyres, and we’ll also collect the dollars we’ve ordered. In the meantime, we’re packing up the Land Rover with personal stuff, such as clothes and toiletries. We also have to sort out all of our finances, and on Thursday we’re going meet with Wakibi in Amsterdam. The food, sponsored by the Plus Supermarket in Sint Odiliënberg, is also packed. What’s more, we’re working on the carnet du passage, letters of guarantee, stacks of photos & copies of our passports and other paperwork!
Route through Libya
Our current route is, strangely, the one we originally started with. It’s changed dozens of times, but now Libya seems stable enough to travel through anyway. Our route takes us through France to Italy, then from Trapani on the ferry to Tunisia. Then we’ll drive into Libya at the Ra’s Ajdir border. From there, we’ll take the northern coastal road to the Egyptian border. Joris and Merel of expanding-horizons.eu are, coincidentally, entering Libya on the same day, and are certainly also worth following.
Personal heroes in Africa part 3 – ‘Far better it is to dare mighty things…’
14 April 2012
I am frequently asked why we are undertaking such a madcap adventure through a, currently, particularly unstable Africa. However strongly I try to explain it, nobody puts it better than one of my personal heroes, Theodore “Teddy” Roosevelt (1858 – 1919), probably the only American President to outgrow the office through his personal achievements and exuberant personality. In a speech at the Hamilton Club in Chicago in April 1899 he said: “Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in that grey twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.”
Roosevelt is probably the only Republican on my list of heroes, but this can be easily explained by his attempt to move his party towards Progressivism, which was characterised by social activism and political reform between the 1840s and the 1920s. This is closely related to his personal slogan: “Speak softly and carry a big stick”, which is an African proverb. In political life, it meant using civil, peaceful diplomacy while subtextually threatening with real power (e.g. military).
Roosevelt was an outdoorsman and naturalist, with a favourable attitude towards conservation. When he left office in 1909, he toured East and Central Africa and Europe to get away from politics, and was replaced by his friend, William Howard Taft. He travelled from Mombasa, Kenya to the Belgian Congo before following the Nile River to Khartoum in modern Sudan. For over a year he hunted for specimens for the Smithsonian Institute and the American Museum of Natural History, a common practice at that time for acquiring scientific knowledge of the natural world. Roosevelt collected over 11,000 specimens ranging from insects to elephants and white rhinos. As a conservationist, he clearly had reservations about killing animals, but cleverly deflected criticism towards institutions which were hard to condemn: “I can be condemned only if the existence of the National Museum, the American Museum of Natural History, and all similar zoological institutions are to be condemned.”
From time to time, he was joined by Frederick Selous (1851-1917), a British explorer, officer, big-game hunter and conservationist, and another of my personal heroes who explored the African continent. Roosevelt also interacted with land-owning families, native peoples and local leaders. His exploration is described in his book ‘African Game Trails’.
When Roosevelt returned from Africa he fell out with Taft, which led to a different kind of progressivism in the form of a new political party known as the ‘Bull Moose Party’. While Roosevelt was campaigning in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, on October 14, 1912, a saloon-keeper, named John Schrank, shot him, but the bullet lodged in his chest only after penetrating his steel eyeglass case and passing through a thick (50 page) single-folded copy of the speech he was carrying in his jacket. Roosevelt, as an experienced hunter and anatomist, correctly concluded that since he was not coughing blood, the bullet had not completely penetrated the chest wall to his lung, and so declined suggestions that he go to the hospital immediately. Instead, he delivered his scheduled speech with blood seeping into his shirt. He spoke for 90 minutes. His opening comments to the gathered crowd were: “Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t know whether you fully understand that I have just been shot, but it takes more than that to kill a Bull Moose.”
For me, Roosevelt represents a rugged, modern cowboy with progressive ideas. Like Ernest Hemingway, he enjoyed boxing and hunting, as well as the outdoors. There are numerous stories about Roosevelt: he was a cowboy in North Dakota; hunted down outlaws on the Little Missouri River; formed a volunteer army to fight in Cuba; and climbed Mont Blanc. He thus managed to combine an esteemed career as a politician with that of an explorer.
Personal Heroes in Africa part 2 – Reaching Timbuktu alive
7 April 2012
Today, my eye was drawn to an article about the unrest in Mali caused by the coup d’état and Tuareg rebellion in the north of the country. It seems that in early April, the Tuaregs entered the town of Timbuktu, which has long been a place of mystery for the rest of the world. Timbuktu grew quickly as a result of trade between the Sahara Desert in the north and the Niger River Delta in the south. Historic descriptions of the city prompted several European explorers to try to find the exact whereabouts of this mysterious city and its fabled riches. In 1824, the French Société de Géographie offered a 10,000 franc prize to the first non-Muslim to reach Timbuktu and return with information about it. As far as I can ascertain, at least two people took on this challenge and set off for Timbuktu: the Scottish explorer, Alexander Gordon Laing (1793-1826), and French adventurer, René Caillié (1799-1838).
Major Laing
Like many early explorers in Africa, Laing originally set off with the goal of identifying the source of the Nile River. Although he cannot be credited with the honour of finding it, he did pinpoint it with relative precision. Laing left England in 1825, and travelled via Tripoli to Ghadames in modern Libya under the southern tip of Tunisia. He then ventured to In Salah, where he was well-received by the Tuaregs. In January 1826, he left In Salah and made for Timbuktu across the desert. There, he was plundered by another group of Tuareg, and his journal describes being wounded in 24 places and losing his right hand. He did, however, manage to reach Sidi Al Muktar despite having no equipment or money. There, he joined another caravan which eventually did reach Timbuktu, making Laing the first European to cross the Sahara desert, north to south. Nothing more was heard of Laing from that point onwards, although it is certain he left Timbuktu three days later and was murdered around the 26th of September 1826.
René Caillié
Reading Robinson Crusoe kindled in René Caillié a love of travel and adventure, and at the age of sixteen he voyaged to Senegal where he learned Arabic and converted to Islam. He started his voyage to Timbuktu in April 1827 from Kakondy, near Boké in modern Guinea. He travelled the Rio Nuñez River, passing the head streams of the Senegal River and crossing the upper Niger. In a place called Time, near the Kong Highlands, he was held up for five months by illness. In January 1828 he reached the city of Djenné in modern Mali, which was about 500 kilometres from Bamako. From there he continued his journey to Timbuktu by water and became the second European to reach the city. He spent considerably longer there than Laing; about a fortnight. He then joined a caravan crossing the Sahara to Morocco, reaching Fez in August. Once there, he returned to France where he received the order of the Legion of Honor, a pension and other such distinctions. He then published his book ‘Journal d’un voyage à Temboctou et à Jenné dans l’Afrique Centrale, etc’ in three volumes in 1830.
Laing and Caillié each represent a very different type of explorer. Laing, like many in his day, was supported by black porters and soldiers, and greatly romanticized his journeys. Caillié, on the other hand, spent years learning Arabic and studying the customs and the Islamic tradition before setting off on his journey. He travelled both with a companion, and later on his own, living as the natives did. Moreover, Caillié, unlike Laing, described Timbuktu for what it was: a small, unimportant and poor village with not a hint of the fabled riches.
Personal Heroes in Africa part 1 – ‘When spring came…’
3 April 2012
Our imminent departure and the wonderful weather of the last few weeks reminded me of a quote from Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) from his 1964 book ‘A Wonderful Feast’: “When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest”. Hemingway is one of my personal heroes. He is revered as a writer by many and repulses others. Some celebrate his lifestyle, while others detest it. But even the youngest generations, to which I belong, recognise him as an icon, perhaps on a par with Che Guevara. In Cuba, which I briefly visited in 2008, he is to this day certainly recognised by the locals as a charismatic figure. I visited Hotel Ambos Mundos, La Bodeguita del Medio and La Floridita in Havana. Hemingway often stayed in the first of these and wrote at least one of his novels there, while in the latter he drank his famous mojitos and daiquiri cocktails. Meanwhile, the walls of La Bodeguita display the words of thousands of people, myself included, but it is the thoughts of Hemmingway that are perhaps the most famous: “My mojito in La Bodeguita, My daiquiri in El Floridita”.
Hemingway, inspired by another of my personal heroes, Theodore Roosevelt, visited East Africa twice during his life. In fact, during his first trip he was guided by Philip Hope Percival, who had also been the guide for Roosevelt on his safari 24 years earlier in 1909. His first visit in 1933, in the company of his wife Pauline Pfeiffer, provided him with material for the novel ‘Green Hills of Africa’ as well as the short story ‘The Snows of Kilimanjaro’. During his trip, he contracted dysentery, which caused him to be evacuated by plane to Nairobi, an incident that is used in the aforementioned short story. During his second visit in 1952, he was nearly killed in a plane crash that left him in pain and ill-health for the rest of his life.
Hemingway was probably the man who introduced the word ‘safari’, which means ‘long journey’ in Swahili, to the English language. Indeed, during his time in Africa, he spent a great deal of time hunting, which later established the image of the ‘Great White Hunter’, a term used for professional big-game hunters who make a living either by taking paying clients on safaris or from the sale of ivory. Although the term White Hunter has obvious racial and colonial undertones, it also evokes a romantic image of stalking game and back-to-basics living on the African savannah. This image is wonderfully depicted in the 1985 film ‘Out of Africa’ with Robert Redford (Denys) and Klaus Brandauer (Bror). Many aspects of Hemingway’s life can be described as romantic, in particular his love of travelling and adventure, fishing (especially for sailfish, kingfish, swordfish and marlin) and big-game hunting. But his life also knew many perils; his family had a series of accidents and endured health problems in the years following the Second World War, he survived two successive plane crashes (the second in the Belgian Congo), endured a series of serious health problems, some of them caused by his years of heavy drinking, and suffered from severe depression towards the end of his life. In 1959, Hemmingway moved from Cuba to Ketchum in Idaho where, in April 1961, he took his life with a bullet from his favourite shotgun.
Hemingway proves to me that writers need not be dull and home-bound. Their stories need not be dreamt up in isolation in a dark attic, but can be experienced by a man and his determination and quest for adventure. Reality really can be more exciting than fiction, although sometimes it needs some spicing up…
