Some of my favourite people

I’ve been thinking a bit about some of the more interesting people I met while on the road. Unfortunately I don’t have names recorded for all of them. In no particular order, here’s a few quick portraits:

• At a bar in San Francisco, I was sitting next to Mark (and his wife who looked like an aged rock groupie – think Goldie Hawn). Mark pulled out three harmonicas and laid them on the bar. I remarked that not everyone carries three harmonicas. “Don’t worry Lindsay, I’ve got more at home.” Not quite the response I was expecting
• I arrived at Homs in Syria, looking to change buses to get to Crac des Chevaliers. LP said there were two bus stations, right next to each other. Actually LP, there’s another bus station on the other side of town as well. I didn’t know where to go, or anything, plus I was tired and sick at the time. Then I met Hasan, who showed me which bus to get on, refused to let me pay for my own ticket, and took me to the other bus station to get the right bus, and invited me home for tea. This, from a guy who is educated, working a good job, but earns less in a month than I can in a day in London. There is indeed truth to the stories of Syrian hospitality.
• I’d never seen a 60-year old break-dancing before. But, in Crete, I met a man who did just that. In between sessions on the dance floor (including doing a flip at one point), he would come up to the bar, and order the bar staff and me rounds of drinks. He could certainly put them away too. We didn’t share much in the way of common languages, but we were good friends by the end of the night.
• Walking past a carpet hospital in Goreme, I was called in for a chat. The owner didn’t want to sell me carpets though, he just liked to chat to travellers and practise his English. Then his uncle turned up with a bottle of Turkish wine. They then opened it in a way I have never seen before. After hunting around for a pair of pliers, they then used the handle of the pliers to whack the cork down into the bottle, splashing wine across the room, and us. Glasses were then passed around. It was a quick way of opening the bottle, if perhaps not the cleanest.
• In Antakya, I started chatting to a young guy. We were sitting in a park, talking about Turkey, travel, etc, when he started telling me how all his friends were gay. He was quite insistent that he was not gay, but then he went on to describe, in detail, what happened when his gay friend was staying with him for a few days. Now I couldn’t care less what you do with your friends, but I don’t think I needed that sort of detail from someone I had just met. All very strange. It wasn’t even like we were out drinking at a bar late at night – it was just sitting in the park in the middle of the afternoon. However, I now have a contact if I want to import quality leather shoes into New Zealand. Apparently I could make $20,000 in a month, or something like that.
• Possibly the best guy I met was the connoisseur of fake watches I met in Alexandria. While drinking at Spitfire Bar (well worth a visit) I met Rob, who was in for a few days rotation off the oil rig he works on. His dealer turned up with a bag full of fake watches, and we then spent over an hour going through all the different watches, narrowing it down to a few, then testing the luminous dials, the waterproofness, etc. I learnt several things about fake watches – one is to make sure that all the date/time dials can be set correctly – sometimes you can only have a Tuesday if it’s the 10th of the month. Watch the waterproofness, usually they aren’t. If looking for fake Rolexes, try and get the ones sourced from Italy, not China. Philippines ones are best if you can get those, apparently. It’s not just a matter of going for the cheapest you can find, you know.
• While sitting outside the train station in Alexandria, a group of young girls came up to me to talk. They were quite impressed with my eyes – I don’t think they see a lot of blue eyes. After chatting with them for a while, they told me, quite seriously, that I should not sit outside the train station, there were too many crazy people there. Funny thing was, that they were the only ones I met outside the train station. Hmmmm.
• In Libya, we had some locals driving us around the desert. I learnt two things: Even Arabs can have chavs – the desert is not too hot for wearing a tracksuit, and two: you can have an extremely explicit conversation with someone without needing any common language whatsoever. Sign language goes a long way, you know.
• Captain Basta, in Aswan. He runs a felucca on the Nile. We hired his services for the afternoon, and had a pretty good time. After talking about how he is a Muslim, he then asked if we wanted beers (we did, and we had to get one for him too), and if we wanted any of the joint he had (no thanks, but you go ahead). For the whole afternoon we were mucking around on the boat, we didn’t cover much distance, but we had a good time. He also taught us some Egyptian songs, but I can’t say we were very good at singing them.
• Pia and Linda at DNA – watch out for Norwegians behind the bar, they get you very drunk. Don’t even think about trying to outdrink them. You have been warned.