Jenga

This will be a very short entry - connection rates here are slug-speed.

In short, therefore, the journey to Benghazi was uneventful despite warnings of doom on the highway from those who've gone before. 1000 kms in 10 hours in my trusty little motor - which then broke down the following day - phew!

Moved into a flat sans Internet, hence the brevity of this piece, but it's definitely a step up from my previous place - automatic washing machine, carpets, working cooker, and a proper sofa. Bliss.

More to follow once I get connected.

For my final night here in Tripoli I was invited out to a party at a farm just outside Tripoli. This is a tradition every Thursday night here, before the very quiet day of religious observance. Salem collected me, and on the way we bought some bocha to help the evening go with a swing - it was like doing a deal in dope with money changing hands surreptitiously for a bottle of 'water' behind a suitably anonymous suburban  front door.

Wajdy lives on the estate with his brothers and mother, and he is in the process of building the main house in readiness for getting married later this year, so the party was held in one of the many smaller houses in the grounds. I was given a tour of the project:

It was enormous - a very modern kitchen, a ballroom, and I don't know how many bedrooms. Salem brought along his portable sheesha, but I declined the offer to inhale.

This is no place for vegetarians - we gorged on meat of all descriptions, and finished off with a huge shared bowl of pasta and lamb. I don't think I'll eat again for a week.

On the way home we stopped off at another party, and some more bocha. By the time I got home this morning I was truly partied out.

Some of the exam results have been leaked ahead of time, and Sadeq in particular is not happy; he thinks the Seior Teacher has fiddled the figures. I don't know the details, but there is going to be an investigation, and if any manipulation is discovered, the ST's visa will be cancelled. Sadeq is very influential (as I have learnt to my benefit), so there could be trouble simmering here.

Well, lessons have finished now, and we all just need to wait for the exam results. My heart is in knots, not knowing how they've all done before I leave, but I'm sure I'll hear eventually.

Over this week, I've finally been able to tell the students I'm leaving. There was the customary exchanging of emails and phone numbers, and I do really hope that we keep in touch - this has been an amazing six months in all sorts of ways, not least the experiencing of such profound friendliness and friendship.

Here are some pics of my final classes:

The chap on my left below used to play in goal for the top Libyan football team, and apparently he is the equivalent of David Beckam in idol status here. I feel very privileged to have been able to teach him English.

Two of the chaps on the back row of this picture are so full of life, I nicknamed them Tigger1 and Tigger2. They never stop leaping around in their chairs, and their hands are forever shooting upwards to answer questions:

After the end of classes, Hannah left the Institute for her last time. Not sure what the sign above her head says - Entrance, perhaps, or maybe toilets:

We then moved on for lunch to Sadeq's house, or, more accurately, palace - it was enormous, and so was the meal. Despite it being poor form to leave the table before everything is eaten, we just couldn't manage it. Camel, lamb, stuffed intestines, and all sorts of other delights. His wife had cooked everything, but we didn't see her.

We moved inside for pudding and sweets, but had difficulty moving. Absolutely delicious food. Hannah was the first woman ever to set foot in this room - it's normally reserved for male visitors. As each new course was ready to be served, Sadeq's wife pressed a buzzer, and Sadeq collected it. If he was a bit slow, the buzzer was pressed with more urgency. Abdullah, Sadeq's two year-old son came in to visit, but was scared by Hannah - he wasn't used to seeing women in his dad's domain.

It all got too much even for the host, so he and the rest of us lounged lower and lower as the food kept coming. It was a wonderful example of Libyan hospitality.

After we made our excuses, Hannah and I moved on to a team meal at a Moroccan restaurant in Tripoli - our boss was here, so we couldn't duck out of it!

I held the last of the Tripoli tutorials last week as the students prepared for their final exams. Hannah and I have spent every evening for the past week cramming exam technique into their heads, and I think, and hope, that it went in. They have been very focused, and deserve to pass, but these are the first real exams they have taken under strict conditions, so they're all rather stressed - working through the night in some cases. We had a little party on the last night to celebrate the end of 'special' treatment:

That's not alcoholic beer on the table, by the way, but it's the closest that's avaiable legally.

On Saturday, I flew to Benghazi to find somewhere to live, and to have a look around my new school. The hotel I stayed in was right on the bay - Benghazi, unlike Tripoli, faces the sea, so it has a very different feel.

It's nothing like I remember it from my previous visit back in 1973, but then after such a long time, that's not surprising. It has a more provincial feel with narrower streets, older buildings, and few if any glass and steel monoliths - at the moment. Change is happening here, as in Tripoli, but in a more structured pattern.

After being shown around the town by the departing head teacher, I had a walk back into town along an enormous viaduct. The ghibli (the desert wind) was blowing hard, but fortunately it hadn't brought too much heat with it. In the summer, I'm told that it's like being battered by a giant hairdryer, so that'll be something to look forward to. Once I got into town, it was closed - the ghibli forces everyone to keep their shutters down or everything gets covered in sand and dust.

Yusuf, an estate agent, picked me up a bit later to show me round a couple of flats. Neither was quite suitable, but I did get an idea of what's available, so when I return on the 23rd, I'll know what to look for, and what to expect to pay. He then dropped me off at the teachers' flat where there was a leaving party, and some of the locals brought some of the local fire water round for me to try. I also experienced some home made burgundy which was surprisngly good. It was good to meet some people, and also to see women in party frocks again!

Some Britsh Council teachers were there, so I've made some contacts already who can show me round when I settle in. Another visitor was a professional footballer who has been in Benghazi for a year, on loan from Dubai. He said he'd had enough of the lack of nightlife, and the restrictions on female company - mind you, he's only 24 so I suspect his agenda is rather different from mine.

I also met someone who had just come back from working at a tobacco factory in Hamilton, Ontario - a town where my uncle has a truck factory!

On Sunday, I went into the Institute to meet some other teachers and the management team. It turned out that the MD studied at Aston (one of my alma maters), as did the MD and his Number Two in Tripoli. Perhaps we'll discuss war stories at some point, although my guess is that I visited different places when I was in Brum.

Before catching the flight back to Tripoli, I had another wander around the town. By chance, I found the Green Book Research Centre. The subtitle for this book is the Third Universal Theory, and I asked the English speaker I met inside if this was where Blair's Third Way had been developed. Yes, it was, and because of the interest I showed I've been invited to attend some lectures there when I return. The building reminded me of another society which implemented radical political ideas:

Since getting back, I've been trawling round car part shops to get my car equipped for the 1000km journey overland to Benghazi. One of my students has been invaluable, negotiating discounts and getting greasy hands fixing the bits that needed fixing. I don't know how to repay all the kindness I've been shown whilst I've been here.

Last night I was given a small measure of bocha, and afterwards I had the most peculiar dream: being chased by characters from He Man, led by Skeletor, whilst wading through treacle! A little more water will be needed in future, methinks.

I've taught my last full lesson in Tripoli now, and a twinge of sadness crept into my heart as it sank in. I have had a wonderful time in Tripoli, and made many friends - far more than I dared hope. In the last lesson, we had a little party:

Next week is taken up with exams and end of term feedback, and then it's off to Britain for visa renewal, before returning to collect all my stuff and driving off to Benghazi to start the next chapter of my odyssey.

Tomorrow I'll be holding my final private teaching session at my flat, preparing the students for their exam. Exam technique is not something they're very familiar with, so I'll be able to give them the benefit of my vast experience in this area...ahhh, memories of my Art O Level still haunt me, but as I keep telling my charges, making mistakes is the best way to make progress: learn from them, don't regret them.

It's been a tough week following such a busy weekend last week. I've had some sort of bug, but have been unable to spend recovery time at home because of the shortage of teachers, and the critical time in the students' education - they take their final exams in a couple of weeks so need all the attention they can get.

Hannah and I went out to Garyan yesterday, but, being Friday, everything was closed, so we just turned round and came back home. The police stopped us again (Hannah seems to attract their attention), but there was no hassle.

Here's a picture of my Great Aunt Lisa Gherardini, a relative on my mother's side of the family:

Last time I was in Florence I visited the Chieso Santa Croce where the family tomb is sited, and I recommend it to you as a very serene place to rest, away from the crowds.

I've decided not to take the posting to Sirt. My students tell me that it's very dull apart from when the Leader visits, so I'm taking their advice. So, it's full steam ahead to Benghazi. I'm flying over next weekend to find somewhere to live and be shown around the school by the current Senior Teacher. I'm rather daunted by the whole prospect, but my transfer to the post was requested by the Central Bank, so at least I'll be starting with no initial acceptance hill to climb.