Jenga

There have been one or two problems with the net here in Libya, ever since the day commemorating the end of the Italian occupation when all phone lines were cut out of respect for those who lost their lives. The service is still rather patchy, hence the gap in my updating of this blog.

Anyway, semi-normal service can now be resumed.

I now have my own private policeman. Whenever I go into town, he stops the traffic for me on a particular road, we exchange a few pleasantries in Italian, and I move on. He doesn't do it for anyone else - he's there to stop cars behaving badly - a never-ending task given the eccentricity of Tripolitanian road behaviour.

On the subject of traffic, here's a picture of the main bus station in Tripoli - just a hundred yards from my flat:

A bus journey of about three miles costs 25 piastres - 10 pence. It's a bit hairy, but quite an experience. Taxis, too, are very helpfully priced, and equally scary. Traffic accidents are the biggest threat here, not the usual suspects!

I found a supermarket yesterday with the help of one of my flatmates, so am now able to cut my living costs quite considerably. The 'flavour' of the supermarket was very Italian, so no Cheshire cheese or Marmite, but have made myself some very tasty pasta dishes now. Camel may well be on the menu soon.

I have also started my Arabic classes - very slowly initially. Can you guess what this says?

Yes - John!

I have looked for a dictionary which gives English pronunciation of Arabic words, but no luck so far. I'll probably have better luck in Malta or the UK.

The teaching is still wonderful. Most of the lessons last only 90 minutes, and there's usually alot of ground to cover, so it's quite intense, but the students are hungry to learn, and my style seems to gel with them.

Two more weeks of teaching, and then we get a week's break for either a holiday, or time to prepare for the next block of lessons. I haven't decided what I'll do yet, but my options are a little limited - my passport has passed into the hands of The Authorities, and there's no telling when it will reappear. Soon, I hope, because otherwise I'll become an illegal immigrant in a fortnight.

Having said yesterday that I didn't expect to be visiting the poshest hotel in Tripoli, I ended up having a feast there least night in its traditional 5 star Moroccan restaurant on the 24th floor, regaled by a traditional Moroccan three piece combo (drums, electric guitar, and Roland keyboard) surounded by traditionally affluent Europeans being waited on by....well, you get the picture.

I was the guest of the owner of Berlitz Manchester, plus some others, so it was a pleasant evening, but a little out of keeping with the activities and lifestyle at street level. I shan't be going back for a while.

Earlier in the day I went for a haircut - at least, that's what I asked for. An hour later I energed from the parlour, feeling like a new man. If you know what I mean. Once my hair had been cut, the barber slapped some gunge on my face, and then started pummeling me around the eyes, cheeks, and forehead. Then he scraped a load of slime off my face with little pads, slapped some more gunge on, and repeated the exercise. Well, I didn't know when or where he was going to stop. My French didn't stretch as far as 'Excuse me my man, what are you doing to me?', so I just sat back and suffered.

Actually, I'm being unfair - I don't think my face has ever been so well treated, or clean. I'm thinking of going for another trim tomorrow.

Bored witless at work today - invigilating and then marking exams. Ah well, into each life a little rain must fall. On the bright side, I had a bit of time to kill, so some of my students decided that it was time they started teaching me Arabic. Once they've agreed on which dialect to teach, it should be very useful.

Yesterday was the Sabbath here, and so I expected things to be quieter, which indeed they were, but Tripoli is a city which never sleeps - it slumbers.

In the morning I went for a walk around the harbour, trying to find the places I had visited 35 years ago, but of course things have changed considerably. When I tried to gain access to the docks, I was told I couldn't gain access without a Shore Pass. This in itself reminded me of the occasion when I didn't have a Shore Pass in Famagusta, Cyprus, so ended up with a machine-gun being poked in my stomach as I tried to climb the dock gates. Happy days! No trouble here though - I was pointed towards the Security Centre, and told to come back with the appropriate paperwork on another occasion.

As you can see from the picture above, there weren't many people around!

The tall building to the left is Bouj al-Fatah, next door to where I live, and the home of the British Embassy - a very useful landmark for when I get lost...... The tall building to the right is the Corinthia Hotel, one of the few places which stays open in the day during Ramadan. It's very pricey, so I haven't been there yet, and suspect that it will have to do without my custom for some years to come.

It's interesting seeing places which I last saw when I was 17. Perhaps I'm trying to regain the innocence I had then - a country boy going out into the big, wide world. Certainly I grew up during my Merchant Navy experiences, and Tripoli was the first major city I'd visited with a culture totally different from the one I'd known to date. Gibraltar had been like a sunny Macclesfield in comparison.

In the afternoon, I went to an exhibition detailing the hardware which has been left behind in the desert since the Second World War. There were dignitaries, and speeches in Arabic, so I didn't follow very much of that part of the session. However, I did go round the displays, and was absolutely horrified - people are still, sixty years after the end of the war, being mutilated by mines and unexploded bombs. Of course I was aware of this happening, but to be confronted with the facts so graphically was quite disturbing.

On my arrival I had been asked if I was Italian. Initially flattered, I then realised I'd have been persona non grata if I had been. They behaved abominably whilst they were the occupying power, and the Libyans are still suffering from this today. The locals fought the Italians with weapons which, in some cases, were over a hundred years old, with predictable results. And the Germans, once they weighed in, had some evil munitions.

Then I thought of Iraq.

A rather sobering afternoon. Here are a couple of pics of the exhibits:

Well, that's enough depression for today.

Back to teaching tomorrow.

Having just woken from my siesta - I hadn't realised how knackered I was - I've wandered back to the WiFi cafe to reflect on my first full week.

Above is a picture of the entrance to the old city from Green Park, or Revolution Square as it is sometimes called. There are pictures everywhere of the Colonel, or Leader - 38 years into the revolution, and real change is becoming apparent.

Below is a picture of the Square from the sea - it's a tropical treat!

I feel so lucky to be here, and what perfect timing. Ramadan is over so the students are alert - and we can eat and drink in the day; it's not too hot - just pleasantly warm, particularly in the evening; and I have the balmy winter to look forward to.

The teaching here is not a million miles away from East Berks, but we do have the luxury of course books which we follow almost to the letter, unless extra classes are needed, and then we can use our initiative. But a significant amount of the work is still firing from the hip - introducing new topics to develop the book material - I've been extemporising today on the energy spread in the UK which of course I know masses about.

(mmmm - I've just had a sip of delicious mint tea - so refreshing after a hard week)

Whilst I had a few minutes at work I had a look at the history of Libya on the net again. It is a terribly sad recent history with concentration camps, forced migration, and genocide on a massive scale - 50% of Tripolitanians by some accounts perished in the first half of the last century. With the Italians accountable.  So it's all the more astonishing that the Libyans are so welcoming to outsiders.

(mmmm - I've just had a spoonful of Italian ice cream - so cooling after a demanding week)

I have to finish my proofreading tomorrow of the Director's thesis proposal. It might involve more time sitting here in this cafe, looking out over the sea, because of the internet access which we haven't got back in the flat. But then on Saturday, I shall hit the tourist trail and search out some Roman sites.

Vene, vide, amore.

What a beautiful evening it is here.

I've just been for a walk along the sea near Revolution Square, and have been astonished, constantly, at the friendliness of the people here. People just want to say hello, and welcome me. It's so lovely. Equally enchanting is seeing couples sitting under trees, chatting, with no booze or high jinks involved. It would be a terrible shame if the increase in the tourist trade were to bring with it the bad behaviour so often seen elsewhere.

On my way down here, I bought a cheap bag for carrying my computer in to work, and clothes for those odd days away when getting visa renewals, and was quoted LD150 for a bag. I said I only wanted something cheap, so was offered another for LD20 - about £8. So I went for this, handing over LD20. The guy told me to wait whilst he gave me change, and gave me a discount of LD5. I've never been haggled down before when spending money!

It's not unique to me either; one of my flat mates told me that when she went shopping, she was always given extra eggs, potatoes, whatever.

At the moment I'm sitting in a WiFi-enabled cafe overlooking the bay, sitting under date palms occasionally dropping ripe fruit to the ground, as the sun sets, sending its rays against the stone walls of the old town.

Libya is a country of contrasts - WiFi but few landlines; oil but no postal system; cars but rutted roads. Perhaps that's what makes it so beguiling.

Two days till the end of my first week teaching in this glorious country.

The weather has calmed down a little, and I can hear the sound of swallows outside my window - your loss, our gain.

I spoke to the Embassy yesterday, and have been invited to a fancy dress party in November, and also a Rememberance Day gathering on the 16th - they hold them in Tobruk, Benghazi, and Tripoli. I will probably go to the latter, but the former seems a bit naff. Time will tell - the occasional G & T might be on offer, so that might tip the balance.

Here's a pic of the building site where I live:

It's not as bad as it looks, and it'll be beautiful when it's finished. It's only ten minutes from the city centre, 2 minutes from the Embassy, and ten minutes from work, so pretty good overall.

I'm being a bit cautious with photographing things at the moment - I could easily make a mistake and end up in trouble. Once I feel more comfortable, I'll post some more.

My visa runs out in three weeks, so I've got to leave the country and then come back. Where should I go for a couple of days? Spoilt for choice really: Tunisia is popular, as are Malta and Italy - they're all only an hour away. Tricky decision.

Ciao.

Global weather changes have even hit Libya. There have been thunderstorms and flooding over our own personal building site over the past few nights. Apparently this is is very unseasonal - it's normally well into November when the weather turns. The days are still beautiful, however, and the evenings are pleasantly balmy.

I have been told the weather is becoming more English - since the day I arrived!

As I sit at the office PC, gazing out onto the playground of the next door school, I can see a teacher walking around waving a couple of sticks. Really. He's not using them on the kids, but the message is clear. Perhaps this is why there is so little crime in this gorgeous country.

At the end of this second day of teaching, I feel strangely relaxed. My prep is completed for tomorrow's lessons, I have written my lesson plan (please, no laughter back there!), I covered all the necessary work today to the satisfaction of both students and employer, and I'm looking forward to my first bus ride - 20p to go about 10 miles. But then petrol is only 6, yes 6, pence per litre.

Last night I went on the hunt for some airmail paper, but without luck. I'm still looking forward to actually writing some letters (last done, I think, last time I was here, back in August 1973), so I'll keep searching. I did manage to get some ink for my fountain pen - quite a find.

OK. Enough of this fascinating stuff. Charabanc, here I come.

Well, every day is certainly a new day here.

I bought the final bits of my kit yesterday - shoes - and wandered back to the flat, getting desperately lost in the process. I accidentally entered the old, walled city, with its narrow streets, all manner of tiny shops, and rubble for paths (too narrow for cars). As I walked deeper and deeper into the maze, I lost all sense of direction, so made the most of it - every corner I turned led to more exciting sights, sounds and colours.

Eventually I exited close to the sea, so I managed to navigate my way back using my 1973 Merchant Navy skills. Things might have changed on land, but I can still read the stars.

After a little siesta, I tried a new route into town and found a cafe which looked good. And indeed it was - 5 quid for a slap-up meal (excluding wine). Finished reading my Aurelio Zen book - there are so many opportunities for catching up on reading now that there's no television to tempt me - and was then picked up for the highlight of the day - the rugby!

Luckily one of my flatmates has made some good contacts whilst he's been here, so I was given a privileged seat in the cinema at the French Institute of Culture - there were five of us in a 200 seater theatre, only two of us supporting England.

Today things have reached new heights - my luggage has arrived! So I now have a very full wardrobe. I'm not sure which countries it's visited, but it looks happy, and is all intact, so that's a huge relief.

And finally - teaching started this morning. What a joy! There are four classes and four teachers, all of whom teach all classes. Mine only involved introductions and learning names, but they are a really charming group.

East Berks prepared me well for being thrown in at the deep end - it's the only way to do it. Such fun.

I'm beginning to think that I've made the right decision again - I was beginning to flag a little a couple of days ago. I also now believe that I am actually here - it's not just talk and apprehension - it's the real thing.

I thought things were going a bit too smoothly.

Having finished emptying the house at 11.01 last night, and had a bit of sleep before getting up at 5.30 to be at the airport for 7.00 am, I was feeling pretty chipper. The suitcase was a bit heavy, but with the handy handle and wheel arrangement, generously supplied by EBC, I was flying.

The taxi arrived on time, and we got the airport at 6.55.

Now, my contact had told me that the airport people could sometimes be a bit iffy with Libyan visa arrangments, but I wasn't worried - I'd been told mine could be collected once I got to the other end. Mmmm. Well, not quite - you're not allowed on a plane to Libya without a visa, so there was a slight flaw in this arrangement.

So, at about 8.45, I was told I couldn't board, and would have to make other arrangments.

These were finalised about 5.30 this evening - I'm catching the same plane at the same time - tomorrow.

Fingers crossed.

Well, heavy day. Several trips to the dump after very serious editing of my ex-belongings. Tim, brother number 1, came over with a van to take the bulk of the decent and sentimental stuff away to Mother's. We all had our last lunch together for some time - and very good it was too - as always. Not too much wine was taken - Tim and I were both driving - Tim collecting, me delivering.

It's all getting a bit close. I'm feeling a bit emotional most of the time. Luckily, because I'm British, nay English, I'm not letting it show.

Tim has spent quite a bit of time abroad, so we spent some moments chatting about what it's like to be an 'oddity' in someone else's country. He told me about the time he was attacked in St Lucia for being white - purely and simply for that reason. Even though he was there working to improve the lot of the people. Makes you think.

Luckily, having been racially abused by my neighbour - a Frenchman calling me an 'Anglo-Saxon' (it's a shame he couldn't have been more specific: an Anglo/Norman/Celtic/Saxon/Gallic/Viking/Rift Valley curly haired immigrant would have been so much more entertaining) I'm semi-prepared. Only semi.

It's certainly going to be a turned-tables situation (with apologies to Private Eye).

Moscow.

If I'd known there was so much involved in moving abroad on top of moving house, I might have considered the exercise more carefully. I blame the money launderers, of course, but do I really look like a crook?

The day started OK - wardrobe and small chest collected by Roger (Helen's hubby).

Then it got progressively complicated - I read the email contract from Berlitz, and various other bits - no probs, but paperwork. And, well, it's not my favourite activity, is it?

Then I realised I'd have to reroute loads of Internet accounts I have. No probs, but time consuming.

Where will I store my car? At my mum's. What does that mean? Yes, paperwork - and not possible over the Internet. Cancel the tax disc - Yes, even more.

Then I got an email from the travel agent - because the post is so unpredictable during the current waves of strikes (oh, it takes me back to happier times when you could rely on there being at least one significant strike every week, and it made you plan your life efficiently), I would need to go into London to collect my tickets. Relying on the post was too high risk. So, that's what I did.

Journey in - no probs.

Journey out - some idiot lorry driver had tried to go under a bridge lower than the height of his lorry. Result: cancelled trains; Dunkirk spirit; wait till everything is sorted out.

Not great timing - I had to be back home by 7 to sell my washing machine.

So, all a bit stressful. Luckily, I've trained on stress management at EBC, so everything was sweetness and light in the end.

The moral of this story is: take everything in your stride, keep calm, enjoy the downsides of untoward events, and remember: there is always an upside to be found.

Abyssinia.

So, here we are. Things are coming together.

I've paid cash for the flight, started reading On Chesil Beach - donated/lent by son number 3 - and sorted out my sister-in-law's cistern. Of such things, life is made.

Looking forward to next Thursday - let's just get things moving!

Here's a pic of my last class at EBC, now that I've worked out how to add pics (poor show from an IT teacher, I know):

and here are a couple of others recording a very enjoyable evening out:

Well, I've been and gone and done it - accepted a job in Libya. Unusually, one of my plans has gone exactly according to plan!

Here's the (slightly edited) job spec:

The post is based at the training centre for the Central Bank of Libya. The training centre also employs local teachers who run the lower level courses. These courses feed into our programme.

What a relief that it's sorted. I can now concentrate on tidying up loose ends here in Blighty.

Well, a very interesting day.

Is it Libya, is it Algiers, is it even serious?

I've had a long day with my boys shifting furniture. House is now almost empty.

On to other matters: life after East Berks - is it possible?

Well, yes, in very different ways.

Interviews on Monday for Algeria and Saudi - all positive; today for Oman and Libya - equally positive; and this evening, a begging email (yes, really) to get me to go to Saudi on an increased rate.

What's a chap to do? Just buy a cravat and a linen suit, and move out? Or be a bit more sensible?

Mmmm. Tricky position.

WTS.

Well, it's the second day of the week following my leaving East Berks College, and there's never a dull moment.

After a very eventful final day last Friday, at which I was given a suitcase as a leaving present - what a thoughtful gift - there was a very busy leaving party in Windsor. Photographs are available, but should be viewed with caution.

I went for an interview yesterday, and was offered two jobs: one in Saudi, and one in Algeria. I'll hold fire until my next interview - for jobs in Libya and Oman - on Thursday, and will then make a decision. Algeria is the favourite at the moment.