DelsBigTrip

My hotel here in Cape Town is on the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront, a regenerated area of once derelict harbourside not a bustle with restaurants, shops, bars and hotels. I've just spent most of the morning gazing out from my tenth floor room across the bay, past the fleets of banana boats, trawlers and container ships to the ocean beyond. This is a fine city to just stand or (preferably) sit and watch the world go by.

On Friday I did some of the touristy things; went to the market at Trafalgar Place, to City Hall, to the Grand Parade - originally an earthwork fort dating from 1652 and beyond that the Castle of Good Hope - a pentagon shaped fortress that is now surrounded by a restored moat and gardens, a lovely place to wander and take lunch, which I did. The train station was opposite, so I ducked over there and bought a ticket to Johannesburg - it cost about $120 for a bunk in a sleeper compartment - the Blue Train, which makes the same journey charges some $3000 - albeit with meals thrown in and a little more leg room, half a carriage more legroom to be exact. From the station I ambled down Government Avenue, an oak-shaded walk through central Cape Town - on one side it a beautiful and exotic botanic garden, on the other, government buildings. The walk eventually brought me to the South African Museum and with rain threatening, I spent the rest of the afternoon in there.

By morning the Cape Doctor (an offshore breeze) had been and blown the rain clouds away. From the hotel's restaurant on the top floor I could see the clouds still lingered atop Table Mountain - its famous tablecloth. I had pre-booked to go to Robben Island - and realising that I shouldn't have been so quick to get rid of the hire car, I rented a Moke and set off to Green Point - from here a ferry took me across the choppy waters to the place infamous of course as the prison that held Nelson Mandella. First thoughts were that if you were going to spend time in prison, this was not a bad place to be - sea views, comical jackass penguins for company ... but inside it ws different. A dank, cramped cell - austere and institutional doesn't do it justice. And you can easily imagine the abuses that most have gone on here. I remember the images of his walk to freedom, and followed in his footsteps on the way back to the ferry - my head filled with negative generalisations of this country - one that should, given its natural resources - be the richest on earth. This is a country that has fucked up in a very big way. I don't know what the answer is, but I know there needs to be one found, and soon. Still in bars and restuarants you see races keeping themselves to themselves, the blacks and asians are always friendly and ready to chat - but only once they know I'm 'Irish' - yep, I'm still playing that card!

An early lunch and then I set off down the Cape Peninsula, where I passed golden beaches, rocky coves skirted the Twelve Apostles. The road the ran high above the crashing waves on a twisting narrow ledge hacked into the cliff face - it was a little like Highway 101 in California. From here I swung inland, crossing the peninsula to False Bay and the warmer waters where seals and basked on rocks and swimmers and surfers offered themselves up as shark-bait. Eventually the road ran out at Cape Point. Here I had to leave the car and take a shuttle bus to the top of the final hill. Here I spent a couple of hours wandering from lookout point to lookout point. Here the granite falls away, suddenly and dramatically - 259 metres - five times the height of Niagara Falls, into the frothing mass as rollers crash onto the rocks below. Even on this the calmest of days, the wind tugged at my jacket and ruffled my hair. Riding the air currents I saw cormorants, gannets, gulls, giant petrals and albatross. To the west was the Cape of Good Hope itself - spectacular, rugged and with the feel of being on the edge of the world.

Today you find me relaxing - had a bit of a heavy night last night. Didn't fancy being the only single person out in Cape Town on a Saturday night, so bought supper from a Malay take-out and a couple of bottles of SA white - had planned to stop after one - but, what the heck - I'm on holiday! It's mid-afternoon here now, am going for a walk around the harbour after I've posted this and then dinner somewhere quiet with a view. My train back to Jo'burg doesn't leave until midday - looking forward to it - love long train journeys, the air of romance that they always carry.

Delx

The first day of December - yikes.

So, I left you in Coffee Bay, yes? Well from there I drove into the dense bushveld of the Eastern Cape. There, quietly tucked away I came across Addo Elephant National Park. Est 1931. It was set up to (can you believe this), protect the last 11 wild elephants from extermination. Today more than 400 elephants roam through an area that is remarkably diverse. There were more opportunities to see black rhino, Cape buffalo and leopard, as well as a host of other animals both large and small. From there I hit the Garden Route at the Tsitsikamma National Park and the Storm’s River Mouth. I hiked part of the famous Otter Trail, gazed out over the spectacular Indian Ocean breakers pounding the rocky shores beneath 180m high cliffs topped with evergreen forests, heathland and ancient rivers which have carved their path to the ocean through rocky ravines.

Next I made the short drive to the pretty holiday town of Knysna where I went out on a little boat in search of whales and dolphins. Quite a few dolphins, no whales - shame. I had lunch in town, then poked around the craft shops and flea markets. Later I drove south, through lush forests, past tranquil lakes and golden beaches that adorn South Africa’s unspoilt southern coast that was once home to the ancient hunters, gatherers and nomads known as the Khoisan People. They inhabited this part of the country from the Stone Age onwards, feeding on the riches of land and sea, only being displaced after the first Dutch settlers arrived in the area during the 17th century. In the evening I returned to Knysna, ate dinner in a cosy café and basked in the small-town charm and hospitality.

Yesterday I moved on to Oudtshoorn, where I could, if I had wanted, visited one of the famous ostrich farms - instead I chose the Cango Caves with their spectacular rock formations - sculpted by nature through the ages leaving breathtaking limestone formations in a wide variety of natural colours in a subterranean wonderland - They were pretty cool as far as caves go, but not worth travelling all the way from Weston-super-Mare especially to see them. This morning I was on the road early, pausing at the wine producing town of Stellenbosch where I reluctantly turned down several offers of tastings before driving on towards Cape Town - via the airport to get rid of the car. Took the shuttle bus into town and my hotel for the next 4 nights.

I spent the afternoon on Table Mountain - figured it was a good way to get a feel of the city. The ascent to the top is exhilarating - offering breathtaking views over the city and its beaches - oooh, I sound like a travel brochure! On a clear day like today I could see for miles across the Cape Flats to the Hottentots Holland Mountains on one side and the ocean(s) on the other. Descended the mountain several hours ago and spent the past couple getting slightly tipsy on a bottle of red I picked up the other day. Going out for dinner now, I may be gone some time!

Monday morning I joined a trip out to the Hluhluwe and Umfolozi National Parks - they are home to the largest population of black and white rhino in the world - established in 1895, these are the oldest game reserves in Africa. Set in the heart of Zululand, where Zulu kings such as Dingiswayo and Shaka hunted and then put in place the first conservation laws, the park contains an immense diversity of fauna and flora. The Big Five were all seen with two hours of entering the park, as well as cheetah, wild dog and giraffe. Hluhluwe was characterised by hilly topography, towards the northern section of the park we encountered a wide variety of birdlife - some 300 species have been recorded here.

I was back in St Lucia just in time to take the sundowner cruise on the nearby St Lucia Wetlands Reserve. A vast swampy area seperated from the Indian Ocean by huge sand dunes some two to three hundred feet high. Here a 'mosaic of landforms' (according to the brochure), 'have created breathtaking scenic vistas that stretch for as far as the eye can see'. It was superb. As we puttered around on our boat we encountered a variety of habitats ranging from the Ubombo Mountains to grasslands, forests, wetlands, mangroves and vegetated dunes, with magnificent beaches and coral reefs. We spied an abundance of Nile crocodile and hippo, as well as rhino, elephant, buffalo, giraffe, waterbuck, kudu, nyala, impala, duiker and reedbuck, amongst a host of other species.

The next day I headed back up the highway to Shakaland - lured there by another brochure that promised a traditional 'kraal experience' - a chance to soak up the true ways of Zulu life. I left after a couple of hours, it was incredibly commercialised. The chance to 'watch traditional dances, eat traditonal food and learn traditional ways could be rounded off by spending the night in an authentic Zulu hut - with WC, shower and mini-bar - no wonder they gave Michael Caine's guys a hammering! So I headed on inland to three historic battlefields of the Zulu Wars: Isandhlwana (where British forces were wiped out), Rorke's Drift (we all know this one, don't we?), and Ulundi, where the army of Ceteswayo was defeated. It was, as is often the way with battlefields, a series of unremarkable places - and I found it hard to imagine what fear and bloodshed took place here.

In the fading light of the day I drove south to Durban - along the N2 - with the Indian Ocean away to my left for most of the journey. I got a room in a motel just off the main highway on the edge of town and in the morning drove on into Durban, drove along the Golden Mile - where the hillside eventually rolls down into the ocean by way of wide sandy beaches. I parked up and walked past rickshaws and their owners touting for business and into the business district where the architecture had real feel of the sub-continent about it (later learnt that the majority of Durban's residents are of Indian descent). At the Indian market I bought a packet of 'hell fire curry powder', and got an omelette for breakfast. I rounded my brief sojourn in Durban with a meander through the beautiful botanic gardens with vast arrays of orchids, tropical ferns and vines.

Lunchtime and I was moving on, inland again and up into the Drakensberg Mountains - a spectacular drive. The Drakensberg Mountains are one of South Africa’s most amazing natural sights - in Afrikaans Drakensberg means 'Dragon Mountain', and the Zulus call the range uKhahlamba, or "barrier of spears". The Drakensberg stretches the entire length of KwaZulu-Natal's western border with Lesotho for hundreds of rugged kilometres. Here I spent a couple of wonderful days exploring the mountains, wandering down mountain trails, stopping to take in breathtaking views, discovering bushman rock paintings in caves or just feeling at one with nature. The second day here I drove over to Royal Natal Park - equally dramatic - where a wall of rock known as The Amphitheatre rises to 2,000m - imagine Mount Rushmore set atop Alpine foothills and you pretty much get the picture. Yesterday I headed south through a reserve called Giant’s Castle - the most spectacular section of the Drakensberg for wildlife viewing. Near the small town of Himeville is the Sani Pass, where you cross into Lesotho. The tips of the peaks were covered in snow - with clouds sailing high above in the blue sky - it was a beautiful spot.

Late yesterday afternoon I drove through the green hills of the central Transkei and fell with the highway steeply down to towards the Indian Ocean, through slopes covered with the dense sub-tropical forest. The area is relatively sparsely populated, with just a few small villages dotting the hilltops. Signs warned of antelope and monkeys - but I saw none. As I approached the coast again, by way of a wide estuary I passed colourful and exotic birds in the tree tops and beyond the mangrove swamps, you could see silver shoals of fish jumping and splashing in the shadows just off the beaches.

Coffee Bay, where I spent last night (and where I'm spending tonight) is situated on the beautiful Wild Coast. I've just been chilling out today, spent the morning with several coffees and a newspaper (learnt of George Best's death - very sad - bet the Liverpool and Leeds scum give vent to the petty hatred of a better team again by ruining the minute silence). Have had a late seafood lunch in a nice restaurant overlooking the ocean and spent the afternoon browsing around town, topping up what has become a bit of a tatty wardrobe and pausing for yet another coffee or two. Am now back at the hotel catching up on emails and stuff - later I might go for dinner at the restaurant across the street that advertises 32oz buffalo steaks. Or I may not.

Delx

As an introduction to the thrill of a safari, Thursday evenings jaunt was hard to beat. We were just heading out into the bush when our guide Chris' walkie-talkie crackled that a leopard had just pounced on an impala and bitten and broken his neck. We drove quickly to the spot, arriving just in time to see the leopard dragging its kill into the branches of a tree, wedging it in a high cleft. We watched for half an hour as the leopard devoured its kill - safe from other bigger or pack predators that might see her off - such as lions or hyenas. In spite of our bright flashlight the leopard went on knawing at the impala's flesh, tearing at the haunch, crunching and splintering bones - an entire hind leg gone in ten minutes. Later in the moonlight we drove on, on a distant ridge we could see huge shadows, elephant and giraffe against the blue night sky pricked by a million stars - it was spectacular, and very romantic, Cx you should have been with me. As it was, I shared the experience with fellow Brits, a woman called Lisa from York who was there with her two kids and a couple from Kent called Ken and Joyce who had the annoying habit of finishing each others sentences. Our guide was Chris, an ex-pat who used to work in the coal mines of County Durham - he came out here on his redundancy and never went home.

That evening we had ... impala steaks for dinner. Taken on the terrace under those same stars - and accompanied by a bottle of red wine and the calls of the African bush at night - the occasional distant roar of a lion, the elephants trumpetting and the constant chriping from the veld. I slept soundly that night, and in the morning over my contincental breakfast watched the river for hippos, or anything else that stopped by for a drink. Later we headed out of another bush drive - encountering a herd of nearly 200 buffalo, another of twenty elephants, a pride of lions - with 3 cubs - very cute, countless deer and antelope, two giraffes and the occasional carcass of something that wasn't quite quick enough. Back at the Malelane Hotel in time for a light lunch and an afternoon lazing around - at least that was the plan, scuppered at first by a few dark clouds, then thunder rolling around the distant hills and finally rain of biblical proportions. The hippos loved it - wallowing in the muddy river - everyone else sought cover. It was dark by the time the rain eased, and so the game viewing that evening was confined to leaning over the rails of the terrace watching the wildlife come to the waters edge to drink - most quite nervously as now there were crocs cruising the river in search of casualties washed downstream with the rising waters. My afternoon was spent sitting in the shelter of my covered patio watching the rain fall - it was quite relaxing and theroputic. By the time dinner was done the skies were clear again and I wandered out onto the terrace with a glass of whiskey and just gazed up into the southern skies - I'd forgotten how much clearer and brighter the night skies are in the southern hemisphere. Over the chatter of diners came the occasional splash from the river, or a rustle in the nearby bush, but otherwise silence until suddenly a roar - a lion - and it sounded close. I stared into the darkness by the river, moments later I could see a pair of eyes picked out hotel's lights, two eyes staring at me, they moved to the left, then down to the river, my eyes strained to make out what it was, but I couldn't. In the morning another game drive, I told the guide about what I'd seen and heard the previous night, he was pretty sure it was a lion.

We had a fabulous time on the bushveld the next morning. I sat in the back with Lisa's kids (Jack and Naomi), while she sat up front, flirting with Chris. It was a lot of fun watching the kids faces full of joy and excitement as we came across three giraffes drinking at a pool - their legs widely splayed and their bodies kowtowing so they could drink. Then a baboon, sat amongst some boulders in the mouth of a cave. Next more hippos, in a murky waterhole - but we could see little more than their eyes and nostrils above the brown soup. We saw zebras peacefully chewing grass, and a mother rhino with her eight-day-old calf - her, we gave a lot of room to! Next up a troop of maybe fifty baboons, and countless birds - barbets, shrikes, coucals, hornbills, cormorants, kingfishers, eagles and vultures. Finally a pride of a dozen lions stalking a skittish herd of impala through tall grass. Magical.

After lunch (ostrich egg omelette) it was time to move on, I headed southeast on leaving the park and drove down to the tiny kingdom of Swaziland. Cruising along the highway I spotted a sign for Mlilwane Wildlife Sanctuary. There was a good visitors' centre here, I wandered in and learnt that this was Swaziland’s pioneer conservation area and it was situated in the beautiful and secluded Ezulwini Valley - the reserve gets its name, Mlilwane, from the little fires that appear on occasion when lightning strikes the distant granite mountains. From the centre minibuses ferry you through the park where you can see antelope, giraffe and zebra as well as countless birds and insects. Our trip concluded with a trip to a 'traditional village' where locals were selling tribal art and carvings - it was a bit contrived, but buying something here at least felt like I was giving something to the local people.

It was after 4pm local time when I set off again, travelling down the highway to the Indian Ocean coastline at St Lucia - a World Heritage Site. The sun was just setting as I drove into town and along the waterfront - the beach looked fantastic - wide and sandy with breakers rolling in from far offshore. I found a nice motel right on the seafront. There are seven bars, four restaurants and another couple of motels on this little strip - think I'm going to like it here! Booked in for three nights. Have spent this morning doing my laundry (yawn) and called home to say hi to my ma - will someone show her how to e-mail! Apparently it's really cold and foggy back home - I've just sauntered back to my room at the Palm Court Motel from the laundromat under sunny skies - must be, ooh, mid-twenties at least ... Going out for a late lunch now, then want to book a trip for tomorrow into Hluhluwe/Umfolozi National Park.

South African Airlines flight from Cairo was about an hour late leaving in the end. It was an okay flight - meals awful - ate the cheese and bread roll. Slept a while I think. We were on the ground at Jan Smuts Airport in Johannesburg by 9.30pm, but by the times I'd cleared customs and immigration and all that rigmarole, it was gone 11pm when I reached my hotel - the Airport Holiday Inn, Jo'burg. The restaurant and bar were deserted - so I ate my burger, washed down by a beer in an empty and silent restaurant - save for the three waitresses who stood at the bar watching me eat. As soon as I put down my knife and fork the plate was whipped away and the bill presented. Happy days! Upstairs I watched some TV for an hour or so, then turned in, getting a decent nights sleep in a big comfy bed.

This morning took a long hot bath, scooped the complimentary shampoos, soaps and lotions into my wash bag and headed back to the airport to collect my hire car from the good people at Avis. This process took at least an hour, lots of things to sign, several deductions/deposits taken from my credit card and photocopies of my licence and passport - began to think they might not trust me.
'Any tips for driving in South Africa?' I asked the toothless black guy who brought the car around.
'Don't!' was his one word answer.
Suitably filled with confidence, I edged the snazzy little red VW Chico (in the UK it's a Lupo) away from the kerb and into the busy traffic. It only took me three circuits of Johannesburg Airport before I found the exit I was looking for and at a steady 60 clicks headed up the highway to Pretoria. I'd not wanted to stay in Jo'burg - partly because of the bad press - but mainly because there seemed very little of interest there. Pretoria on the other hand is rated as one of the most beautiful cities in South Africa, with a long and involved history - at least according to my guidebook it is, I have to say that I found it rather dull though - it's also supposed to be a far more relaxed and quiet city than its often chaotic neighbour - this is certainly true. I drove into the city, did a quick circuit and then parked up to take a look around. There were long leafy boulevards lined with trees full of purple blossom - very pretty, must find out what they are someday. I spent the afternoon at the Transvaal Museum, South Africa's Natural History Museum and home to Mrs Ples - the 'World Renowned Huminid Fossil' (Australopithecus Apriunas) - the oldest human remains ever discovered, the rest of the museum offered little in the way of distractions. I rounded the day off with a poke around the Kruger House (old SA Prime Minister), very dull and dutifully went up to the parliment buildings and government offices - equally dull. Dinner was ostrich steak - very nice, washed down with a bottle of SA red. Slightly startled to realise that it was only a month ago that I booked this flight/trip - 3 weeks ago I left home - seems a lot longer.

Yesterday I headed northeast out of Pretoria under sunny skies, through Mpumalanga province, pausing at the historic town of Pilgrim’s Rest - a small mining town that has now turned to tourism - but claims to have maintained the 'excitement of a gold rush' and to be 'perfectly preserved' as it was during the heady days of the 1860s when Alec ‘Wheelbarrow’ Patterson, pushed his barrow into this valley and began panning gold in the stream running through the valley below. Upon hearing of his success he was soon joined by hundreds of others and within a year there were 21 stores, 18 canteens and 3 bakeries. Some extraordinary gold nuggets were found, including ‘Breda’, which weighed in at 214oz, and ‘Lilley’ at 119oz. One reef, found after the main rush had died down, yielded over 5,000,000oz of gold in 50 years of continuous working. I strolled around town, past the tin-roofed miners huts and into the main square with its courthouse and town hall - it was pleasant enough I suppose. After lunch I drove up through Robber's Pass (where miners in Pilgrim's Rest were routinely relieved of their finds) and on past the pretty Mac Mac Falls before arriving in Graskop, where I spent the night. This was another former mining town, now a 'mountain resort' town - presumably mountains come here to get a little R&R. That evening I dined on savoury pancakes, followed by sweet pancakes - the town seems big on pancakes - every other business on main street sells them.

This morning I drove out to Lisbon Falls, where high above (92 metres according to a sign) three seperate plumes of water plunge over the edge of the escarpment and into the colbalt blue of the deep pool below. It was pretty. Next, I headed along the rim of the Blyde River Canyon - part of the Great Escarpment. I was on highway R532 and every few miles I was pulling off into one of the viewpoints along the road to take in the fantastic views - it really was something to behold. At Bourke's Luck Potholes I looked out across the canyon to a sheer granite rock face opposite covered in thick forest, further on the inland plateau just fell away, abruptly and steeply and opened up with fantastic views of the plains of the Lowveld a thousand metres below. At the Three Rondavels you could see where millions of years ago erosion caused by the whirling waters of the Blyde River and created surreal cylindrical rock sculptures and left a series of dark pools which contrast artfully with the streaked white and yellow of the lichen-covered rocks.

This evening finds me in the world-renowned Kruger National Park - with promises a wildlife experience that ranks with the best in Africa. I'm staying at the Malelane Sun Hotel in the very south of the park and nestling in the foothills of the Drakensburg Mountains. I'm happily installed in my own little bungalow in the hotel grounds - I've got a king-sized bed, a marble bathroom featuring a huge sunken tub - room for at least two, the room opens onto a terrace with views of the grounds and Kruger NP beyond. Leafing through the hotel literature they told me the park was established in 1898 to protect the wildlife of the South African Lowveld, that Kruger is nearly 350km long, and is the flagship of the South African parks. It alos boasts an impressive number of species - as you might expect: 336 trees, 49 fish, 34 amphibians, 114 reptiles, 507 birds and 147 mammals. The “Big Five” – lion, leopard, elephant, rhino and buffalo – are all found. Just about to head out now on an early evening safari - I'm very excited!

Thursday morning we took the Hydrofoil from Hurghada to the Sinai Peninsula, then transferred on to St Catherine, a small town named after the monastery at the foot of Mount Sinai - and the place where we spent the night. St Catherine is surrounded by spiky granite mountains, and lies between two of the highest and most religious mountains in the region; Mount Sinai and Mount St Catherine. It was cooler there too, which was nice. I spent the day strolling around the village, mixing with Bedouins, nomads, big camels and tiny goats, trekkers and pilgrims. Later I headed down to the beachfront, had a Coke and gazed out over the crystal blue waters of the Red Sea where boats and swimmers bobbed around on and under it. Heading back to the hotel, took some (I hope) stunning photos of the white-washed village against the sharp reddish brown granite mountains, wide valleys and coloured canyons - beautiful at sunset. Back at the hotel as I turned in for the night I flicked on the TV - images of devastation - where? Iran, probably. But no, it was Amman - later learnt that 50 plus people had died in the terrorist attack on the capital of Jordan. Couldn't help thinking of all the friendly people I met there, wandering if any had been caught up in the blasts. Fucking Osama, fucking Arsenal supporter.

Early morning call on Friday - 2.30am. We were all slightly sombre as we set off to climb Mount Sinai in time to witness the sunrise. For the heathen's amongst you, Mount Sinai is believed to be where Moses received the Ten Commandments from God. 3.15am and the ground beneath my feet is starting to rise, have a feeling this is going to hurt - why can't God appear in gentle rolling meadows? For some two hours we follow an old camel trail over steep, dusty and rocky terrain. It's cold - barely above freezing. Teahouses dot the way, we pause at one near the base of the final ascent - the hot tea tastes awful - but it's hot and wet, and so welcome. Then it's off again, up the 750 stone steps that lead to the summit, which we reach a little before 5.30am - ten minutes later the first rays of the day break the distant horizon. It was beautiful, yes. Worth getting up in the middle of the night, being freezing cold and aching? Urm, I'll get back to you on that. We spent half an hour at the summit, then began the descent. Back down the 750 stone steps, but then we followed another winding path known as the 'Steps of Repentance'. 3000 or so steps gave lots of time to repent - some two hours. Back at our hotel we had a late breakfast and then gathered up our things and boarded a bus to Cairo, arriving after dark. I was footsore, weary and tired and headed straight for my room, showered and fell asleep.

Yesterday we all traipsed around the Egyptian Museum. A wonderful building, with as you might expect the world's greatest collection of ancient Egyptian artefacts including many of the treasures discovered in the tombs of Pharaohs and the amazing golden mask of Tutankhamun as well as a large number of mummies - including cats, dogs and crocodiles, as well as foetuses - yeah, quite grim. A guide led us through the museum, pointing out particular highlights. Later I drifted away from the group, and spent a happy afternoon wandering through the winding narrow streets of Islamic and Coptic Cairo, where exquisite mosques and minarets call the faithful to prayer, I nosed around the Al-Azhar Mosque and shopped at Khan el-Khalili, a bustling bazaar. Definitely not in Kansas anymore Toto. Eventually, and I'm not really sure how, I found myself back at the hotel where we had a farewell dinner followed by a floorshow - several bellydancers interspersed by 'traditional Egyptian folk music', hmmm.

It's Sunday morning now and I'm at the airport - security is tight - been asked to switch this laptop on twice and had my bag searched. The flight to Jo'burg leaves in a couple of hours - it's a seven hour flight and I'm not looking forward to it. The last three weeks have been good though, the Middle East and Egypt have thrown me into the deep end of travelling again - okay, so I've been with a group, but perhaps that was good too - not allowing too much time for brooding, naval gazing and contemplation. On the down side, there have been times when I could have murdered an Egg McMuffin.

Last Saturday morning we took the bus down to Abu Simbel. Three hours there, three hours back - but worth every bumpy mile - an amazing place, probably the highlight of Egypt so far - for me at least. The temple lies deep in the heart of the desert, miles and miles from the nearest habitation - as these things should be, not in the suburbs of Cairo like the Pyramids. From a gigantic monolith workers carved a temple and four colossal statues – each one a seated figure of Ramses II - supposedly the greatest pharaoh of them all. Built in the 13th century BC, the temple had over the following three millennia become buried beneath the sands and wiped from memory. It wasn't rediscovered until 1813, when a young Swiss explorer by the name of Burkhardt tripped over it, almost literally - at the time just a small part of one statue poked through the sands. Over the next 25 years archaeologists worked to uncover the temple from beneath the desert, until finally it stood proud overlooking the Nile once more - although built to honour Ramses - it was also a show of power to travellers entering the land of the pharaohs by river from the south. However, the most remarkable story regading Abu Simbel survival was still to come. Some 150 years after Burkhardt finding the temple, it was destined to be submerged again - this time under the rising waters of Lake Nasser - a man made lake which was being formed after the building of the Aswan High Dam. The temple was only saved thanks to an incredible and massive UNESCO project which saw the entire temple and the cliff out of which it is carved, dismantled and reassembled on higher ground redirecting the magnificent stare of Ramses II across Lake Nasser's blue waters. You can still see how close we came to losing these statues - forever submerged beneath the lake - by the watermarks around their bases. We spent a couple of hours strolling around the temple, our tame Egyptologist on hand again with explanations for this and that, but I just preferred to wander along at my own pace, stroke the pillars and marvel at what a place this must have been - indeed, still is. The power that such a place must have held over the people - it even gave me, super-sized cynic that I am, pause for thought that there just might be SOMETHING else. I shot off a couple of rolls of film - you are all gonna be SO bored looking at my photos when I get home!

Back in Aswan, I took afternoon tea at the Cataract Hotel, I was hoping that I'd have retired colonels, the odd Earl, some shady characters or even an author incognito for company - it was here afterall that Agatha Christie wrote Death on the Nile. But the only other people there were other tourists. Still, the cones - topped with jam and cream - and a cup of Earl Grey tea went down well. How wonderful, dahling! The next day was spent on the river, we were cruising north to Edfu, arriving early evening. It was hot, mid-twenties, so I spent the day in the shade at the back (stern?) of the boat where there was a kind of covered terrace, reading my book and sipping beers - most of the group doing likewise which made it rather crowded and not too relaxing - looking forward to being on my own soon! Monday morning, we paid a visit to the temple dedicated to Horus at Edfu. For centuries Edfu was almost completely covered with sand (this happens rather a lot around here I've noticed), but this protected the temple from the elements meaning that it's one of the best preserved sites in Egypt. Reliefs carved into the temple walls depict Horus and other Gods on a grand scale, black granite falcon statues standing over two meters tall and a myriad of secret passageways and hidden rooms lend an eerie - almost sinister feel to the place - I felt as though I was constantly being watched - maybe from another world. Very spooky.

We were in Luxor by the time lunch had been taken on Monday. In ancient times Luxor was the capital of Egypt - then known as Thebes. During our briefing our guide listed an endless number of temples, tombs and museums that we could visit - there was just too much to see - and that's when I felt the sensory overdose coming on. Instead I ambled through the hot dusty streets, soaking up the sights and sounds - have to say though I did get a little fed up with the touts and salesman constantly approaching me until I eventually I wound up at the Movenpick Hotel - a place famed for its ice cream and also for being a rather chilled place to hang out and relax. In fact, so relaxed did I become that I nearly missed dinner back on the boat and the night-time visit to Karnak to watch the Son-et-Lumiere presentation. This was excellent, not in a beautiful or dramatic way - it was just sooo kitsch! For an hour and a half we sat there as an overly dramtic voiceover set against booming operatic music recounted the history of Thebes in a true Hollywood-style extravaganza. The sad part was that the star of the show (Karnak), needed no smoke and mirrors - left to wander alone through the floodlit temple would have been truly dramatic - awesome even - as Jake, one of the American guys noted.

It was back to the boat after the show and straight to bed as we had to be up before sunrise the next morning, to meet a bray(?) of donkeys - sturdy, but stuborn donkeys at that. We were all assigned a donkey(!) and given a quick lesson in how to control them(!!). We then rather haphazzardly set off on the 7km ride to the Valley of the Kings, taking quiet roads with views across green fields leading to the edge of the Nile and the sheer cliffs of the desert beyond. Villagers on their own donkeys passed by, laughing and (no doubt) making rude comments about us before riding on. We left the green fields behind and headed up into the steep, scorched cliffs where the pharaohs once lay in their great sarcophagi. The sun had broken the horizon now, above us a liquid blue sky, ahead the peak of Al-Qurn - I started humming the Anvil Chorus by Verdi. The valley itself was a bit of a disappointment - there's nothing much to see above ground - but once you enter the burial chambers carved deep into the side of the valley it's a different matter. The tombs are covered in incredibly well preserved paintings depicting the gods and goddesses of ancient Egypt and complex hieroglyphics which our guide deciphered. We visited three tombs (Seti I, Amenhotep and Tutankhamun - the famous boy king), and then spent an hour just strolling around this incredible site and turning down touts offering camel rides and to show us other tombs that no one but them knew about ... yeah, right. Later, back in the saddle (ouch), we rode out the other end of the valley, over a hill (no jokes, please) and down into the Nile Valley again - wonderful views of life on the river and Luxor beyond. On the way back to the boat we passed by Deir El Medina, a village constructed soley for the tomb builders and their families, here we clambered over the remains of the houses (all that's left are some walls), but it was really enjoyable - ancient Egypt on a more human scale, a more intimate encounter.

Back on the boat, I spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around, trying to coax my nether regions back into place after being bounced around on the back of that bloody donkey. Several beers numbed the pain. It was hot too - the weather that is, not my bits - way too hot to do anything strenuous, so I just sat and watched life on the river. Mellow. This morning we left the boat behind, boarded a bus and our original group of fifteen headed off on a five hour drive across the desert here to Hurghada - a small town on the edge of the Red Sea which is, if you're into that sort of thing, renowned as one of the world’s great diving locations with spectacular coral gardens and marine life, apparently. Me? I've had all the watery fun and excitement I could want on this trip in the Dead Sea, so I went to the bar, sipped a nice chilled glass of beer and later soaked up the sunshine and relaxed.

Tomorrow we head across the Red Sea to the Sinai Peninsula and then back to Cairo by the weekend. Sunday morning I'll be flying down to Johannesburg - looking forward to having the freedom to do what I want, when I want - three weeks in a tour group are beginning to take their toll! Feel like I've adjusted to life on the road though - senses are constantly heightened and aware. Feel more alive than I have since ... I can't remember - of course it could be the coffee!

Dx

Beginning to feel I may have O.D'd. on ancient sights and monuments. Last Tuesday morning we had a brief jaunt around Alexandria; the Greco-Roman Museum, where there were some fine examples of craftsmanship from Egypt's Greco-Roman Period and the best of Alexandria's treasures. Pompey's Pillar - a massive thirty metre high hunk of pink granite, that was mistakenly credited to Pompey by the Crusaders - it was erected in 293 AD as part of a larger temple complex. The pillar is the only ancient monument remaining whole and standing in Alexandria. Next came the Roman catacombs of Kom el Shuqafa (meaning the 'hill of pot shards') which are beyond anything you can imagine. These catacombs, the largest known Roman burial site in Egypt, were discovered accidentally in 1900 when a donkey disappeared through the ground. They consist of three tiers of tombs and chambers cut out of the rock to a depth of some 35m. Finally, after another seafood banquet, we poked our noses in the Biblotheca Alexandria - boasting the world's largest reading area - and a lot of books. From here we were ushered back onto our bus and taken to Alexandria's main Railway station where the a train was waiting to take us south, back to Cairo and beyond.

We have a carriage reserved for our group, and being the only 'single' single person on the tour - I luck into a compartment all to myself. I settle in, kick off my shoes and take out my new book - Death on the Nile by Agatha Christie - hey, I'm nothing if not predictable huh? We trundle south, the carriage attendant, Khaled, kept up a steady supply of tea and biscuits - so civillised! After a couple of hours we reached the outskirts of Cairo - after the beauty of the wide open desert it looked big and ugly -but up close, it took on a more human scale once more. We had an hour in Cairo's Rameses Station before heading south once more. We followed the western bank of the Nile - catching glimpses of the Pyramids and Sphinx again as well as the ruins at Memphis before dusk turned to night. Dinner was Molokia (mallow leaves prepared with garlic, spices and chicken) and shammy (pita bread) - all washed down with karkadai (hibiscus tea - served sweet and cold) - I've told you what I ate, because it's about the first time in a week I've known! Turned in for the night somewhere beyond Tell el Amarna.

Daybreak on Wednesday and the train was standing in Luxor station, from here a half-dozen taxis ferried our happy little band to our Nile cruise boat, the MS Melodie. The boat, so we were told, had recently been refurbished throughout - and was again for the sole use of people travelling with this company - we weren't the only guests of course, there was another group who'd been on the train and others arrived on a flight later that day. As on the train, I got a single en suite cabin with a view across the river. The boat had a large sundeck with a Jacuzzi, dip pool and a covered terrace where you could, and indeed I did over the next few days, enjoy a drink in the shade whilst watching this fantastic country slip quietly past.

Later that morning we climbed aboard a touristy horsedrawn carriage and headed off along the banks of the Nile for a tour of the great temple of Karnak. An avenue of ram-headed sphinxes leads you up to the magnificent gates. Nothing however can prepare you for the sheer size and scale of the temple when you get inside. It was built by many pharaohs over a period of 2,000 years - each adding to, dismantling, restoring, enlarging, decorating but always trying to outdo their predecessor in architectural achievement. You could lose yourself inside forever, but another tame Egyptologist led us around, pointing out all the most impressive parts of the temple and giving a full insight into the lives of the pharaohs who worshipped there. Karnak is dedicated to Amun, the ram-headed Sun God - thought to be creator of all things, and the most powerful deity in ancient Egypt. See, this blog site is eduactional!

Late afternoon and the boat set sail. As we left Luxor, everyone was up on deck - cocktails in hand - sharing in the magic as the last golden rays of the day cast shadows across the city, bathing it in a warm glow. Later we took dinner as we drifted down the Nile, small villages and houses dotted the shoreline, feluccas and other cruise boats sailed past. So romantic - wish you were here to share Cx. We moored up for the night at Esna and in the morning continued onwards - to Kom Ombo. I woke late - we were already underway - showered, dressed. I took breakfast on deck, orange juice, scrambled eggs and toast, then spent the morning trying to read, but not managing a chapter - my gaze constantly being pulled to life on or beside the river. There were fantastic views of the small villages along the Nile Valley with palm tress nearly touching the sky, young kids playing on the banks of the river and fishermen casting nets into the waters.

It was just after lunch that we reached Kom Ombo and its temples dedicated to the Gods Horus and Sobek. The temple stands right on the banks of the Nile, so we could pretty much wander over and look around whenever the mood took us. It was beautiful, and it was hard to imagine anything more magical than wandering around the temple with its exquisite relief carvings, as the sun shone over the Nile colouring the stone a deep gold. God update; Horus is the falcon-headed god of all things living (every pharaoh was considered a human embodiment of Horus). Sobek is the crocodile-headed god of ... erm ... ooh ... actually, I can't remember. One thing I do know is that there are apparently no Nile crocodiles in the Nile any longer - at least they (whoever they might be), say not.

This morning (Friday) we sailed down to Aswan, where we've had the day pretty much to ourselves. I spent the afternoon strolling the streets of this beautiful and vibrant town - a whole world away from Cairo - the pace of life is so much slower and the town small enough to explore on foot - plus you don't get hassled for bakeesh everywhere you go. In Aswan the Nile is at its most picturesque with golden sand dunes coming right to the waters edge and scores of white sailed feluccas gliding around the islands. A bazaar runs the whole length of town and is crammed with shops and stalls selling everything imaginable - and one or two things not; was offered a postcard of a woman performing a sexual act on a donkey - a service a donkey wouldn't normally expect to receive - even from another donkey. As dusk fell I ate fuul and sipped more karkadai (think I'm becoming addicted), am now back on the boat now- in the purser's office - I'd asked if there was anywhere I could e-mail from, there wasn't, but he's unplugged the phone line so I can connect up via that! Dinner in a mo', then a late night stroll around the streets of Aswan, no doubt get hussled by some locals at backgammon - the game is something of a national obsession. Tomorrow we have a long day on the road - heading out into the desert to Abu Simbel - before starting back north towards Cairo via the Red Sea and Sinai.

Caught sight of myself in a store window a few moments ago - have already picked up that slightly scruffy traveller-chic look - you know, a couple of days stubble, hair a little wild, a stain of unknown origin on my jeans and eyes that tell you I've downed perhaps three too many coffees. Jordan had been hard work, long hot days (temperatures in the mid-twenties during the day, but chilly at night), but there had been so much to see, so much history, a terrific country and wonderful people, you should go there. NOW! Also fellas, the (young) ladies are gorgeous - almond-eyed beauties. Girls? If you like swarthy macho types, you'll be happy.

On Saturday we headed up to Jerash, a place I had never heard of until booking that tour. Apparently it is (I'm ashamed to show my ignorance here), widely acknowledged as one of the finest, if not the finest preserved provincial Roman town in the world. The imposing remains of the city - reflecting the grandeur of Imperial Rome, lie nestled in a green valley an hour north of Amman. Here we were left to wander the empty deserted streets of this ancient place, I strolled around the once bustling marketplace, through the ruined bathhouses and traced with my fingers the ruts left by the thousands of chariot wheels that passes along those cobbled streets. Even for someone with such a limited imagination as me, it wasn't hard to envisage these streets bustling with life, I walked down to the amphitheatre and climbed onto the stage, surrounded by the imaginary roar of the excited crowded - the image was soon shattered when my fellow travellers joined me on stage and we gave a rendition of the Locomotion which had Omar holding his head in his hands. That afternoon the trip reached its low-point, literally. We spent the afternoon splashing around in the Dead Sea. It really is a strange sensation, especially for a landlubber like me. I waded in, and as the water reached waist level, I felt it lifting my toes off the muddy seabed, by the time the waters reached my chest I was floating. For an hour I bobbed around like I was in an invisible armchair - very, very strange. I tried to get the hang of swimming - my uncle Maurice learnt to swim here when doing his National Service - but all I succeeded in doing was splashing a lot of water around and moving in the opposite direction I was trying to go in. Interesting aside; you may know that the Dead Sea is the lowest point on earth, but did you also know that it is part of the Great Rift Valley that stretches from the Middle East all the way down to East Africa? Don't say you never learnt anything from me.

Yesterday morning I had a lazy breakfast, sipping coffee that would burn its way through lead and nibbling on a couple of what looked and tasted like cinnamon danish pastries, but weren't. My flight left early afternoon, so come 11am I was in the back of a taxi lurching through the quiet and empty streets of Amman to the equally quiet and empty airport. I checked in and sat in a corner reading until boarding the Royal Jordanian 757 to Cairo. From the peace and calm of Jordan, stepping into the maelstrom that it Cairo airport was a complete culture shock. Thankfully there were no shortage of taxis, or buses touting fo my business - about $6 secured a taxi ride to my hotel - an oasis of calm. There I showered and changed and, taking a deep breath, threw myself headlong into the hustle and bustle of this incredible city. I wandered the streets, my senses assaulted on all levels - the endless cacophony of noise with cars tooting, donkeys braying and the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer; the mix of smells like the aroma from cooking pots bubbling with fuul (some fearsome looking local dish), when my feet grew tired, I stopped for a delicious mint tea in a shaded café - watching the endless river of humanity roll past - women haggling in the bazaars, men talking whilst enjoying a traditional shisha pipe, cars vying for space on the crowded roads, camels ambling serenely along and children playing in the back streets. A different world.

Today we had our tour briefing once the group had met up over breakfast - there were fifteen of us in all - mainly Brits, but there were two Australian couples and a couple of American guys who may, or may not be a couple. We then descended en-masse upon the great Pyramids & Sphinx at Giza for a guided tour - I was very excited at the thought of setting eyes on these tombs that were already ancient by the time that Christ was born. To get there we had to weave our way through the manic Cairo traffic, out into the suburbs and then, suddenly, there they are. Huge majestic tombs rising out the desert, towering above the modern city of Cairo and an incredible testament to the immense achievements of the Ancient Egyptians. The Pyramids really do have to be seen to be believed. Built over five thousand years ago they are the only one of the seven wonders of the ancient world that are still standing. We explored the pyramids and the sphinx in the company of an Egyptologist guide - he explained all the mysteries surrounding their creation – were they built by aliens or are they aligned to the stars? (One of the American guys asked if there was any hope of finding the Stargate!) Later we clambered inside one of the Pyramids and saw for ourselves the burial chamber - it was hot, it was dark, it was claustrophobic, but also incredibly humbling just knowing how many thousands of tonnes of stone towered above us.

By now the temperatures were into the high twenties and the smell of the nearby camels (or maybe their owners) was quite strong - whatever, it was a bit of a relief to clamber back on the air-conditioned bus and head north to the Mediterranean coastal city of Alexandria - a journey of some 3 hours. There's a nice feel to the place, we took a stroll along the wide corniche watching the sunset to the site of the lighthouse of Pharos, another of the 7 Ancient Wonders, we ate a simple but delicious sea food meal in a local back street restaurant and rounded the evening off with an beer - Ice Cold in Alex.

It's early evening - night fell like an axe a couple of hours ago. I'm back where I left you last time - same city, same hotel, same room! Have had the most fantastic few days in between though. On Monday the group met up, there were three of Aussies (plenty of not-so-gentle light-hearted banter about the cricket and rugby!), a Canadian couple, two girls from Yorkshire and a Kiwi guy. All very mellow. That morning we had a short briefing about the trip that lay ahead and then we headed east out of Amman in a mini-bus to visit the Desert Castles. We crossed miles of barren sandy, scrubby wilderness to reach these ancient reminders of a time when Jordan and the Middle East were filled with the violence of the Crusades - no, not the one now embarked upon by the idiot Bush and his 'crusade' for more oil to please his buddies at Haliburton! These heavily fortified castles contained the some of the most fantastic wall frescoes. I drifted away from the group and soon found my imagination taking me amongst the knights clad in chain mail settling down to their meals, fearful of the ever-present enemy just outside the thick stone walls. The castle at Azraq even pre-dates the time of the Crusades, it was built during Roman times, but best of all as far as I was concerned, it was used by Lawrence of Arabia as his desert headquarters, he rested here with his Bedouin followers, while preparing to vanquish their Turkish foes. Later we returned to Amman and had supper at a bustling cafe near the walls of the great Amphitheatre - very ghostly, very atmospheric - all lit up against the night sky.

Tuesday we drove south to the city of Aqaba, a journey of some six hours to the Red Sea coastline. Once there, most of the group headed off to do watery activities in the Red Sea, me - I have all the buoyancy of a Philippino ferry service - I chose to wander around town - nosing around the markets, chatting to the traders (no I didn't want to buy slippers or gold), later I just sat at a table in a street cafe and watched the world go by whilst sipping some very strong coffee and nibbling on some sweet pastries. Early the next morning we travelled north to Petra via Wadi Rum. Wadi Rum was fabulous. According to a Bedouin tradition, in order to understand Jordan, you must allow yourself the peace and time to clear your mind in the vast expanse Wadi Rum - we only had 4 hours, but it's left a lasting place in my heart. Our guide, Omar promised us that this was the most beautiful desert on the face of the earth, arriving there, it became pretty obvious that he wasn't over-hyping the place. We climbed aboard a couple of jeeps and headed into the valley (Wadi means valley) We passed Bedouin women herding goats, stopped for a drink of tea (awful) with a Bedouin family at their traditional camel hair tent, we passed men on camels, appearing from a mirage ahead and disappearing into the dust kicked up by our jeeps behind us - it was all very cinematic. After a couple of hours we stopped in the heart of the valley, climbed down and took in the views, soaked up the peace and the silence. No one spoke, there was just a steady click of cameras. I looked to the mountains, their red sandstone peaks jagging up into the liquid blue sky, shot off nearly a roll of film. It was magical and so romantic - no wonder Lawrence fell in love with the land and people.

The next morning we were all up bright and early for our visit to the rose-red city of Petra - the place/sight that most of us had come to see, and - as the leaflet handed out by the tourist office put it; 'the most mystic and glorious of Jordan's ancient treasures'. The city has a spectacular setting deep inside a narrow desert gorge (siq), it was built by the Nabataeans before the time of Christ, drawing on Greek, Roman, Assyrian and Egyptian architectural influences. It was a little after 8am when we began the walk through the siq, the walls closing in as we passed through the heart of the mountain before opening out to reveal the stunning beauty of the Treasury as the first rays of the rising sun caught the carved sandstone facade - and lit it up as if from within, like a halloween pumpkin - sorry, terrible analogy, I know. The pathway then broadened further to reach Petra's massive theatre, a giant bowl that could seat some 8,500 people - it dates from the 1st century BC. We spent the rest of the day just strolling around the ruins of this ancient city. We learnt from Omar about its refined culture, incredible architecture and the ingenious complex of dams, fountains and water channels that kept the city verdant. We climbed the steps to the High Place of Sacrifice which offered a stunning view over the dramatic expanse of Petra. We caught glimpses of tombs nestled into rugged mountain sides and walked on sands that change colour from rose, to deep reds and to purple. And as the day drew in, we took the monumental staircase to the Monastery and walked to the 'end of the world' for a spectacular sunset over the wild Negav mountains.

And so to today, Friday. After breakfast we headed north along the Kings Highway back to Amman, pausing at Kerak Castle, where we had a couple of hours strolling around the 12th century fortress. It's visually stunning, sitting atop a high desert plateau some 1000 metres above sea level - a desert Oz if you will. There were towers, ramparts and a dark maze of underground tunnels, vaulted halls and passageways. Just south of Amman we stopped again, this time at Madaba, a city famous for its mosaics which were everywhere - on churches and souks of course, but also on ordinary homes. We walked the dusty streets to the church of St George, where one such mosaic lies - it is the oldest known map of ancient Palestine - it has been built around throughout the centuries but is still in superb condition. Ten minutes up the road lies Mount Nebo, the presumed site of Moses' death and his burial place. It was here that Moses reached his goal, setting eyes on the holy land, but knowing he was never to set foot in it. We walked up the slopes along an avenue of pine trees - at the top we were treated to a breathtaking view across the Jordan valley and the Dead Sea. We sat there for over an hour, watching the sunset. It was beautiful.

It's nearly 11pm now, we've been out to see what Amman on a Friday night had to offer - not a lot as it transpires! Going to turn in now, it's been a tiring few days and I think I still need to unwind a little - maybe I should head back to Wadi Rum for a few days. Tomorrow we head up to Jerash and the Dead Sea - just for the day, then on Sunday it's time to move on again, to Cairo.

Del

The flight here to Amman took some five hours, but with the time difference it wasn't until the early hours of the morning that I had cleared customs and immigration and was through to the arrivals lounge where the guide for my trip, Omar, was waiting for me. I was absolutely shattered and it was a struggle to keep up with his cheery chat. He told me that the rest of the group were due to arrive 24 hours later and that I had the day to myself tomorrow, or if I liked, he could organise something for me, I told him that I was happy to see the city via my own hapless wanderings. It was 3am local time when my head finally hit the pillow.

Got a good seven hours sleep, rose this morning, showered and went in search of sustanance. Got a super-strong coffee and a couple of pastries in the hotel's cafe, then went to check out the city. During the flight I'd scanned through the section on Amman in my guidebook and found it didn't promise much. It started; 'Amman isn't the prettiest or most historic city in the Middle East ... ' But I have to say I've had a rather mellow time strolling through the busy streets and poking into the markets and the old souk - which was fabulous - an assault on the senses, the noises, the smells, the colours - amazing. The city itself is quite striking - with few exceptions, no building is allowed to be more than four storeys high, and all must be built with the white limestone quarried from the hills surrounding Amman. The people are super-friendly as well, this may have been because when asked if I was American or English I shook my head and told them Irish (I have an Irish grandmother) - this seemed to be a good move! The majority of the city is ultra modern - spread out over the surrounding hills - and is apparently seen as a showpiece city for the Middle East. It's slightly odd to see women wrapped in dark gowns, their heads covered walking past stores with the latest western fashions in their windows. For (a late) lunch I was ushered into a sidewalk cafe where I ate falafel surrounded by old men wearing keffiyas and smoking shisha pipes. Strolled back to the hotel at dusk, serenaded by James Blunt's 'You're Beautiful' - is there no escape - coming from the doorways of the shops and cafes. I lounged by the pool until after dark, sipped a Coke and took dinner (mezze) at the hotel.

It's 11pm local time now, I've just come up to the room, plugged in my laptop and read my emails - lots of nice messages, thanks guys. Tomorrow we head out into the sands to see the Desert Castles - they date back to the time of the Crusades - we then head on down to Aquaba on the Red Sea coast. Finally Petra, can't wait. Going to read a little now (have with me TE Lawrence's account of his desert jolly!), and then to bed.

Got to Heathrow a little after 2pm. Checked in and passed the security grilling. Am now 'airside' in the airport terminal - sat with a cappuccino in the internet cafe - writing these words. Flight leaves just after 5pm - about another hour.

Cx was on time this morning (a first!) she brought her kids with her, a good move - they always cheer me up. We loaded my bag into the boot of her car and then drove down the road to my mom's to drop off my keys. She was in tears as I said goodbye to her, I gave her a hug and walked back down the garden path, turned, gave her a wave and jumped into Cx's car before I too burst into tears.

We had quarter of an hour to spare at the station, Cx had brought a bottle of Champagne with her, so we stood there on the platform in the weak late autumn sunshine - her kids running around our feet, while we sipped the bubbly stuff from flutes and made small talk. Cx made an excuse that she had to drive home, so she made me finish the bottle off, nerves were beginning to calm now! Train arrived on time (mild shock!) and we said our goodbyes. The kids gave me a hug, and when she thought they weren't looking, Cx gave me a gentle kiss. Time to go.

The first part of the journey I must have done a thousands times; Worle, Yatton, Nailsea and Backwell - the route I used to take every day on my way to work for a penison company in Bristol ... Hey! No more working for the man! Although in my case it was a woman, a tall willowy blonde called Jan - a total selfish bitch, who needs to learn who her friends are/were - she dumped on them really badly, 2 lovely sweet girls. At Bristol, quite a few footie fans joined the train - most were drinking cans of Carling Black Label - but some were drinking alcohol, not knats piss. I sat quietly in a corner seat reading and glancing up now and then to watch the passing scene. At Reading it was onto a bus and down the M4 to Heathrow, one of the most depressing places on the face of the earth. Did the check in thing, wandered around and bought a guidebook to Jordan to read on the flight, eventually wound up here in the Java Cafe.

Going to the departure lounge now, want to stop on the way and get a bottle of Bourbon and might buy some ciggies to hand around to guides and locals as sweeteners. Feeling much more relaxed now - this is what I do!. It's good to be travelling again.

Delx