Jenga

Before I set out for my normal weekend jaunt, I instructed my dutiful workforce to get stuck in to painting the kerbstones throughout Benghazi. I don't want the place looking tatty on September 1st. So, as you can see, they set out the cones in accordance with the new Health and Safety instructions I have instituted, and got stuck in. By the time I returned to my flat in the afternoon, they had done both sides of this road, so Benghazi as a whole shouldn't be impossible in the timescale:

I drove out past Tocra to find somewhere to walk, and initially went off down a gravel lane towards this monument, but, having cut through one or two gates, and eventually got to a large building guarded by people with serious faces, and guns slung around their shoulders, I was advised that this route wasn't open to the public. So I drove a little further down the coast, went back off road, and parked on the beach by some construction machinery. Undefeated by my earlier meeting, I walked back along the coast to the monument - I've no idea what it commemorates or signifies, although it's reminiscent of the closing scene of Planet of the Apes, as Charlton Heston sees the fallen Satue of Liberty rising out of the sand, and says something memorable, which I can't remember offhand.

The sand was pristine, soft, warm, and welcoming. There was hardly anyone on the beach on this, a beautiful, sunny, Friday at the height of the summer holidays. The water was cool and clear, the wind was gentle, it was gorgeous.

I was about twenty miles from Tocra, and five miles from Tolmeitha, so not terribly close to either of the old cities, but evidence of previous occupation is all around you here. This bit of wall had been exposed by the gently lapping sea where I was walking - who knows, perhaps I am the first Brit to have seen it. This country is an archaeologist's paradise.

Driving in to Tolmeitha for a bite to eat, I decided to stay off road, so wound through the tracks and lanes by the coast. On the outskirts of Tolmeitha I came across this interesting site - a necropolis being used as farmyard:

I gave my class a test on Thursday, and felt rather discomfited by the results. It was obvious that some of the students were not doing any work outside of class, apart from the bare minimum. One student only managed 4 out of 48 in the vocab/definition part of the exercise, yet he's capable of so much better. Fortunately this was only a test for my benefit; tomorrow, they have their mid-term test, and that affects whether they are put forward for the BEC next term. Hopefully Thursday's showing will focus their minds.

It's 35 years to the day since I first visited Benghazi, and the harbour is the exact site of my first experience of this city. I went for a bit of a wander around whilst tracking down a Western Union office to pick up some money to pay some bills. When I came here last time, photography within the environs of the docks was banned, so I have no pictures of that time. Things are much more relaxed these days:

The city is being spruced up in readiness for my birthday. All the trees are being trimmed of their scrappy cuttings, and the buildings are being given a lick of paint:

By coincidence, there is also a minor celebration happening alongside my own festivities, and new posters are being erected to celebrate the people's revolution. This poster shows, at the top, a confrontation between what look like Egyptian forces, and their Libyan counterparts, with the Leader leading from the front. Underneath, the Leader shares the successful conclusion to the earlier debate with his people:

In the course of the revolution, the people of this country have been guided on the way forward by the Green Book, some extracts of which adorn the lobby of the Tibesti Hotel where I stayed when I started this part of my contract:

It's 39 years since the king was overthrown in the bloodless revolution - he was out of the country at the time, and the time seemed right. It's Benghazi's turn to hold the prime festivities this year; next year, who knows, but they should be fun. Best to book a hotel now to get a ringside seat:

All the untidy bits of land are being tidied up with coatings of new sand and soil, so as I drive around the city on 1st September in my open-top car, well, with the sun roof open, all will be pristine. I expect I'll give all the students the day off so they can share in the fun but since Ramadan starts around then, it may all be a little muted:

Having been driving past and through Tocra (formerly Arsinoe - stifle that snort please) ever since I arrived in Benghazi, I thought I'd better spend a little time here. It's the fourth of the Pentapolis cities that I've visited (Cyrene, Benghazi, Tolmeita being the others, leaving Barce, or al Marj, outstanding). The caretaker spoke good English, so gave me a good rundown of the history of the place - there's not very much in the Lonely Planet. I asked how much the entry fee was, but he said we'd discuss this on my way out. Most visitors come in the winter, he said, and usually from a cruise ship moored in Benghazi for a day trip. It was unusual to see people on a hot day in the summer, and I had the place to myself.

It's a sort of boutique city, less excavated even than Tolmeita, and short on significant identifiable buildings, so not terribly interesting at the moment. Some excavation was done during the Italian occupation (in the photograph, you can see the railway tracks used to remove the debris, as in Lubda), and during the Sixties there were a number of British expeditions. During the Turkish and  Italian occupations, a part of the site was built as a fortress using stones from the Graeco-Roman city:

In the early part of the invasion, there were inevitable clashes with the locals, and, very unusually, there is a memorial on the wall of the fortress to the Italian soldiers who died here. Most other war reminders of this period have been removed:

The city was built with only three walls, the fourth being the coast. It's off the beaten track a little, and there were no visitors apart from me, unlike most stretches of coast on a Friday, so maybe this is the bolt hole I've been looking for to get out of the hurly burly of Benghazi after a busy day at work:

After I'd finished my exploration, I went back to the gate to pay. I was waved to a seat in the shade, and stayed for a while chatting about Libya, the heat, Britain, work, and so on. Broaching the subject of the entry fee, I was told: "No charge. You're a Libyan citizen now." I think being a teacher in Libya must be one of the most appreciated jobs in the world.

On my way home - I'm being sensible about distances travelled now - I saw this piece of roadside debris. It's the first time I've seen a cow, with its back legs still hobbled; sheep, goats, even camels are quite common, and all are left for nature to take its course. I didn't stay very close for long - it looked like it was about to explode.

It's been an exhausting week at work. I've instituted mini-exams on Thursdays now to prepare the students for the rigorous exam conditions they will be subjected to in November. We're doing three short tests with strict timings - comprehension, writing, and another skill at random. Before we started, I repeated the rules and ran through the techniques: no talking, no phones, no 'helping', and always answer all the questions, even if you need to guess. Half the class did OK, but there are still some students who miss questions out, spend too long on others, and don't follow the instructions. We've got about eight teaching weeks before the BEC exam, but only four weeks to the end of term exam, so the practices will be very valuable. Those who don't make the grade this term will not go forward to the BEC.

James, the new teacher, is settling in well. He is well-travelled, and has a genuine interest in Libya's culture and people. He seems very knowledgeable about Islam and Arab history, and has gelled with his students. My students refer to his class as the Irish Class. We have a few minutes each day to exchange news and ideas, and our approaches are quite similar - laid back, happy to go off on tangents whilst keeping to the core topics, and interested in English culturally and linguistically.

I've been back at work now for a week, and it's so good to be teaching again. The students were all pleased to see me (I think), and the teacher who has been covering for me, Jamila, was probably pleased that her workload was reverting to only one, rather than two classes. Jamila is a local teacher who had planned to cover only the one class due to be taught by a new teacher from Manchester, so covering two was a bit of a shock.

There was a wonderful surprise at the end of the week - we now have the Internet! This means that once all PCs are connected up, the lessons can broaden out. What a step forward.

I flew off to Tripoli on Thursday to collect my car - it's been languishing in Salem's back yard since I returned from Tunisia, and has been sorely missed in Benghazi. I felt so isolated without it, so was most keen to recover it as soon as possible. On Friday I spent the day on the beach - only the second visit since I arrived, so I shall have to remedy that - with Salem and Nasser:

Other friends turned up later, the sun shone, we had a barbeque, and I spent about three hours in the water. Don't I know it now though - the coolness of the water masked the heat of the sun with inevitable results. Still, a very enjoyable day. My plan now, once the pain has subsided a little, is to drive out along the coast after work to prep my next day on the beach under a tree, and to have supper looking out over the crystal clear waters of this part of the Med. Pretty close to idyllic, I'd say.

On Saturday I collected my deposit from The Libyan Auto Club, and started on the long drive back to Benghazi, intending to stop frequently, and to take it slowly. My autopilot is still not configured for North Africa, so I headed west initially, until I realised what I'd done. Once I'd rebooted my compass, all went smoothly - I began to recognise some landmarks such as this bridge:

It looks like an old railway bridge to me. There are no railways in Libya at the moment, although in the past it was possible to get from Tunisia to Egypt by train. There are plans to rebuild this line, with some spurs going south into the desert, and on to South Africa, so watch this space.

I got to Benghazi in good time, all in one piece, and with no additional pain. My little car is absolutely wonderful - apparently very few people drive across Libya because a) it's a long way, b) a flight isn't very expensive, c) it's dangerous, and d) cars are not terribly reliable in the heat. Well, I have been extremely lucky, but twice is enough. I'll stay a little more local for a while.

One of my neighbours always writes on my back windscreen when it's a bit dusty; these are some of the likely culprits:

Fortunately it's never offensive - usually "English man". I'm tempted to help them with their English - they're obviously keen.

The new teacher arrived today - at last. There have been many false starts, but he, James, is actually in situ, and has his first day at the chalkface tomorrow. He's spent eight years in Saudi Arabia, so he'll be in clover here.