Jenga

Here's a pic of me in the New Forest about an hour away from where I live at the moment. It was a cold and rainy day, but it was Heaven.

Such a  difference from Libya.

Oh, how I'm torn.

The two trees between which I'm standing are physically joined by a branch:

I was there with a wonderful friend, and we walked, walked, and walked through the New Forest. It was gorgeous - we kicked leaves like children, smelled leaves like innocents, and fell, exhausted, finally, into a hotel in the heart of the forest. It was the England of my childhood.

It was great being reintroduced to a part of England which I'd forgotten existed. And what a perfect time of year to go walking.

I heard on the radio today that you can tell which way north lies, apparently, by looking at the moss on the tree when in a forest - it's on the northern side. In England, anyway. Let's hope. So there you are. And another thing. If you rub the leaves of a Douglas Fir, it smells like oranges - and, astonishingly, it does: I've tried it!! Today!!!

The fateful day eventually arrived, and I'm now back in Britain. Rajab and Mohamed took me to Benina at 5.00 am - and it's a good job that they were so punctual. Although the time of my flight was ticketed as 07.15, that was just Afriqiyah's little joke - the actual time for departure was 06.00.

The flight was fine and I was at Burj el Fatah by 8.00, waiting outside the BA offices. I had tried to find a hotel for the evening but all rooms were taken - there was a conference on in town - so I decided to fly a day early.

BA were happy to change my reservation, and there was no fee, so my flight out was booked for the afternnon. I met up with Khaled for drinks and a bite to eat, and we had an introductory lesson on email in an Internet cafe. Then he took me to the airport.

Having queued at the check-in for a while, I was then told I wasn't booked on the flight - BA had accidentally booked me in for the 17th October, not November, and the gate was about to shut.

Arrrgh - panic.

I quickly rearranged my booking, and slipped through emigration with seconds to spare.

Then I got on the plane and there was a big notice on my allocated seat saying 'Not to be occupied'.

Bummer.

So they upgraded me to First. Lovely. Champagne, caviare, china, the works. I think this will be how I always travel in future.

We flew over the Alps as the sun was setting - they were unbelievably beautiful. Ski-ing on Christmas Day? Yes, a definite possibility.

After a hugely expensive taxi trip home, it was into the comfort of Mother's home.

It's great to be back, but I shall miss Libya terribly. I have made more friends over my year there than I thought possible, and I am seriously thinking of returning at some point. There have been several offers of work in both Benghazi and Tripoli, so I shall have to consider my options.

My time, my photographs, my life in Libya, are safe in my mind, and on my computer. Now I need to share my experiences with other people, so I'm going to start presenting Talks to people near High Wycombe to encourage them to visit the Libya that I have fallen in love with.

Here endeth the blog

On Tuesday, I was invited round to Moftah's house to meet his wife and children, and for lunch. It was a lovely afternoon, and a pleasure to be invited out again by one of my students.

Last night, I was invited round to Salem's to eat, and, as always, the food was delicious and the hospitality was wonderful. Whoever wrote in the Lonely Planet that the food in Libya was nothing to write home about couldn't have been more wrong. Whilst the food on the street tends to be a bit repetitive, it is perfectly adequate. The food in the homes is just gorgeous - without exception.

After visiting Salem's stationery shop, we went to his home and I met his family - all of them.The average size of a family here is 6.8, and Salem's is 7 so he's done his bit to keep the numbers high. All of his shildren speak English, most of which has been learned from TV, so their accents are American. Salem himself studied at Aston, although our paths didn't quite cross - I was there a few years before him.

Here we are relaxing after the meal:
We had some interesting discussions about the place of Italians in Libyan history. It was very useful hearing a different perspective. Apparently it was only once Mussolini arrived on the scene that things went badly downhill; up until that point the occupation had been benign, and almost accepted. There was certainly no mass murder. In fact, many Italians stayed on in Libya after the War, and only left, under duress, in 1971 when the situation became more fraught for foreigners - Brits, and Americans included.

Today has been very exciting. It was meant to be a study/tutorial day, so I told the class that I'd be in the office if they wanted to drop in with any particular questions. Well, they did, in large numbers, but not to ask questions - more to fete me with presents and a party:

It has been a lovely day. I felt like a film star - cameras flashing all over the place, people asking to stand beside me whilst our photograph was taken. Such generosity and kindness. This really is a very special place. If a vacancy comes up for a leading position, I think I might apply - I think I've got the appropriate oratorial pose, don't you:

Well, my agent's calling me for a press conference, so I'd better jump into my limo, dodge the paparrazi, and head off into the sunset for endless rounds of champagne and interviews. We media types lead very busy lives, donchaknow.

I'm sitting in the office having just returned from an enormous repast at the home of Muftah where I was able to regale his wife and children with my encyclopaedic knowledge of Arabic, causing no small amount of adulation I might say, and I'm now winding down. All reports are finished, all procedures have been handed over to James and Salem (I think), all necessary emails have been sent, and I'm feeling very content.

The icing on the cake is that I now have a bit of spare time to write this over a fast link which allows me to add some photographs of my weekend. Be still, my beating heart, I hear you cry. Nay, nay, and thrice nay - here they are.

First of all, the infamous beach where Rajab was attacked. There's no sign of the blood here, and you'd hardly believe that such a vicious attack could have happened on such a deserted beach, but happen it did. Even paradise has its ugly side. If I had my way, dogs would be illegal - and I suspect Rajab would go along with that.

Can you believe the sea? It was such a beautiful spot. And this beach continues for a thousand kilometres until you get to Tripoli.

As I was swimming, I noticed a carvan going past - no, not the type with wheels, but a real caravan, so I rushed out of the water and managed to catch this timeless picture:

I know it's not the best picture ever seen, but you try holding your camera still when you've just rushed breathlessly from the freezing sea.

On Saturday, I had a last wander around Benghazi, and caught as many memories as I could on camera. Here's a photograph of the infamous Graziani's house where he lived during the Italian subjugation and occupation of this glorious country. It was in the news again recently when Berlosconi visited to apologise for past Italian behaviour, and to meet the son of the leader executed by his countrymen, Omar Mukhtar:

I really am in two minds about leaving. I have been made to feel so welcome, at every turn. I was told this morning that not only will the School miss me, but also the community at large. I am a well-known person round these parts, and have really been taken to this country's bosom. I feel so privileged to have spent the past year here; it was a leap into the unknown, but what a fantastic journey it's been.

I spent part of my last weekend here on the beach, with Mohamed and Rajab, at a place about 50kms south of Benghazi called Gimenes. We were the only people on the beach - the locals think it's too cold at this time of year. We've been very lucky though - the temperatures are still in the eighties. The water doesn't reflect the air temperature - it was really quite chilly. However, being made of stern stuff, I went swimming until I got a headache at which point I knew I'd been in long enough.

Mohamed and Rajab continued filling me in on the finer points of Libyan culture. One area we covered was women, as you do. Their oldest sister is getting married next month - to a man she's never seen, not even in a photograph. He's been checked out by the male members of the family, and because they're happy, she's happy. I asked what the divorce rate was when marriages were arranged like this; apparently they're quite rare, and certainly lower than the rates we experience in the UK.

Whilst we were lounging on the beach, a dog (Egyptian, of course) ran up and attacked Rajab. Mohamed just laughed. He said that if the dog had killed Rajab, he'd have been happy - he'd be able to move into Rajab's bedroom!

Exams have started, and nerves are stretched to breaking point. A fair amount of 'helping' is taking place, but not to such an extent that I'm fooled. Speaking and writing are difficult to copy, fortunately.

The rest of my week is going to be filled with writing reports, building spreadsheets, and handing the final bits over to James. I've automated as much as possible, so he should be able to cope, as should whoever comes to replace me.