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Westward To Botswana: Dirty Shoes And Itchy Feet
Before we start this next post, a shock update. A first for us, we’ve decided we’re not going to complete this trip and we’re going to head home early. There’s a variety of reasons, maybe we’ll detail them when we do a “trip conclusion” post later. We’re cutting the adventure short, which means not doing Namibia, nor, regrettably, Cape Town – but those places remain very much on the wish list. So we’ll be heading home to England in early October rather than mid November which was the original plan. Well maybe that way we’ll have time for another trip before Christmas…. Ever since we began travelling together with a…
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Out Of Malawi And Into Zambia: It Nearly Goes So Well
Before we leave Dedza on that journey to Lusaka which is filled with potential pitfalls, we really can’t leave the pottery without a Monday morning tour of the factory. A willing employee named Owen walks us through the entire process from raw material to finished product, and we have to say that every single stage is fascinating. If you’re ever tempted to order any Dedza pottery, we can guarantee that the legend “handcrafted” is absolutely genuine – despite its global appeal this is very definitely a cottage business using only time honoured processes. Yes some of the machines reducing the raw material to powder are driven by electricity, but from…
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Day Trip To Gibraltar & Other Stories
Sausage, bacon and egg in a bun, a little dash of brown sauce, a sweetened cappuccino: hangover cure par excellence. It’s needed, last night was a long night and today is going to be a long day. But we can’t be this close to Gibraltar without making a visit – the first visit to an overseas British territory for either of us. Our base now is the coastal town of San Luis de Sabinillas on the Costa del Sol, for our last taste of the Spanish Mediterranean on this long journey south. We’ve chosen this location not just for one last dip in the blue but for two other reasons…
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Birth, Death & Border Horrors: In And Out Of Nepal
The wheels of the Buddha train are still rolling as we finish breakfast and wander back to our compartment: evidently there has been some sort of delay overnight and we finally trundle into Nautanwa station about two hours behind schedule. Nautanwa is the end of India’s railway line, the border with Nepal just a few miles away. In spite of the extra two hours to prepare, and in spite of strict instructions to disembark quickly, about ten of the Dawdlers are late, and finally – finally, after 30 minutes waiting on the coach – Little Miss Selfie, the most incorrigible of the Dawdle group, bowls up as if it’s all…
