LUSAKA 2

30th Dec - 2nd Jan 2014

The national flag. 

One facility near central Lusaka which impressed me was the Show Ground. This is a large area of shops and stands surrounding the main arena. Once upon a time it must have been truly magnificent, on a par with any large permanent show ground in UK but, as with so much in this country, it has been allowed to deteriorate. Many of the once glitzy show ground shops have been converted into shabby workshops and temporary offices. There is even an internal railway system which, years ago, took visitors around the ground. The line is still there but overgrown and now defunct.

 The central arena ( right ) is still used for an annual show, including equestrian events such as show jumping. 

Sadly, much of the area resembles a 'work not in progress' with much debris and dilapidation in evidence. There is so much scope, one feels, for investment here to make this place an impressive showpiece but I presume the will, money and entrepreneurial mindset is just not there. Such a pity. One day....maybe.

On the periphery is a fully functioning polo field. This, I presume is patronised by ex-pats and the wealthy locals. It has a picturesque thatched clubhouse ( although part of the roof has caved in ) and a fairly smart restaurant on the boundary. I was told that the Zambian polo community has 1 five goal and 3 four goal handicapped players. They play international matches with such countries as South Africa and Zimbabwe, as well as holding local tournaments.

There are about 50 ponies stabled here, although most now out at grass. The ones I saw all looked in remarkably good condition.  There is plenty of good grass. They are mostly retired race-horses from South Africa and Zim.

Right: The stables, which are in good nick. Plenty of grooms around even though this is not the polo season; it's too wet. They play from March through to November.

Left: This lady ( 1 handicap ), and her husband, own twenty ponies. She was out exercising a few of them. PS. I have been asked; the man in the photo is not her husband.

That about covers much of what I saw in Lusaka and I am most grateful to my hosts for a luxurious stay. Heading on south next to Livingstone ( I presume ).

LUSAKA 1

30th Dec - 2nd Jan 2014

The Happy New Year Chicken. Lusaka

Before I left southwards we had a surprisingly good Indian Sunday Lunch at a restaurant in Ndola. One of few hidden gems in the town.

Also visited the town golf course which is in reasonable nick. Suspect it was even better in it's Northern Rhodesian heyday. Unclear why it is the home of 'Cock of the North', but I'm sure there is a good reason.

For those interested in golf courses I attach a couple of pics. Left: GD posing by the 'Senior Past President' parking place. The white stick might give a clue as to his handicap.

Right: .......and one of the greens. This probably turns to a dust bowl in the dry season. There were a few 'membas' lounging at the bar and on the outside verandah sipping their gin & tonics. Or perhaps 'Chibuku', a traditional opaque and glutinous  brew made from maize and/or sorghum. I never plucked up enough courage to try it. 

The friend I was to stay with in Lusaka for three days owns a couple of aircraft. He generously came up to Ndola to collect me in his 'all singing and dancing' Cessna 210 which is marvellously equipped with all sorts of 'glass screen' navigation aids. These sort of aircraft are the real work-horses in this part of the world and are used to land on some pretty rugged and challenging country airstrips. 

We took the opportunity to do a sedate ( i.e. not low-level because he is a conscientious pilot ) pass over the banana plantation at Battledore Farm. Farm buildings top centre and the farmhouse to the right.

The countryside to the south was relatively flat before a series of rifts climbing up to Lusaka ( which is on a plateau at about 3000ft ). Lots of the land is a patchwork of tiny agricultural plots ( right ), mostly growing maize.

This being the rainy season it is all quite green. In the dry season I am told it is just brown dust. The photo, left, shows one of many of the kilometre wide circular irrigation systems. A single diameter wide irrigation pipe revolves, on wheels, around the hub. I was informed that this system is not good for the general eco-system. Can't remember why not.

Lusaka airport is fairly basic ( no radar because of various 'misallocation' of funds and additional financial demands by local air traffic controllers not being met ), but is not very busy and hassle free. It is about 25kms to the east of the city.

Right: On final approach. Runway just visible at the top.

I was to stay in great comfort at my host and his family's 'estancia' near the city. I was taken on tour of the city over a couple of days.

On New Year's Eve we all went to a splendid party at a sort of entertainments venue just out of town. Many local ex-pats and the wealthier locals were present. This involved a normal alcohol intake ( a mere trickle compared to Battledore Farm proportions ), a very good South African band and dancing. I was dragged onto the dance floor more than I wished. My shoulder stood up to the strain but one of my knees went a bit wobbly. A most entertaining NYE celebration.

The city of Lusaka is a sprawling low-rise conurbation with a terrible traffic problem. I never understand why more people don't use scooters in places like this, as per Vietnam. The roads are just not designed for many cars or large vehicles. Saigon is similar but the locals ( and ex-pats ) there all get around more efficiently, and amusingly, on scooters. There are some smart hotels and shopping 'malls', modern buildings and undoubtedly some extremely grotty and probably very dodgy areas. Beautiful architecture, with the exception of a few colonial remnants, there is not. The big shopping malls and chain shops throughout the country are mostly South African enterprises. The Chinese seem to control mineral extraction and South Africans the consumer goods and new buildings.

Not to be outdone by 90% of the rest of the world's major cities there is an 'Oirish Bear', O'Hagan's, in which we had a drink. It is remarkably similar to all other global brand Irish pubs; spacious, walls cluttered with 'humorous and quirky' Irish decoration and selling ( tinned ) Guiness, Irish stew, sausage with concannon, and , of course, that old Irish staple, curried chicken wings.

This place becomes very crowded, and raucous, on occasions so they have extra annex bars which open to cater for a sudden inrush. 

Right: Some of the traditional witty decorations. So amusing if you haven't seen them many times before.

We passed the large UN compound ( left ) which houses no less than 25 different UN agencies, all no doubt employing vast numbers of well paid tax-payer funded people doing often irrelevant jobs with great inefficiency. I know; I worked for the UN once. A nice little earner if you can get it. 

Right: The modernistic HQ of the Energy Regulation Board. My guide told me it contains a lot of wasted space. This organisation sets the prices for electricity, although I am led to believe local prices vary wildly depending on who pays whom what.

Left: The HQ of what was the Zambia Consolidated Copper Mines, now the Mubuka Pensions Building. One wall, to the left, is made entirely of copper. 

The statue in front, a copper miner, is interesting. I'm not sure whether it is intended to be serious or a  jokey cartoon character. I fear it is the former. Statuary in this country is not notable for it's aesthetic or artistic qualities.

....as per this one outside the National History Museum. Looks like whatever it is meant to represent is suffering from severe metal fatigue, or scrap metal thieves. Or both.

It costs 25 Kwatcha ( $5 ) to enter. The ground floor is given  over to a large exhibition of local paintings and drawings which mostly look as if there were done by the local primary school.










Upstairs is the usual 'how humans have developed from the stone age' display. It would be too politically incorrect of me to indicate how far some of Africa has evolved along this scale.

Left: The ( replica ) skull of Broken Hill Man. The original, and I don't know where it is, was discovered at the Broken Hill mine near Kabwe about 100 miles north of Lusaka in 1921. It is supposedly 200,000 years old.




Right: There is a good series of dioramas showing village life. Whether contemporary or historical is difficult to tell. I suspect it is contemporary due to one of the characters wearing what looked suspiciously like an Arsenal football shirt.

Another rather gruesome display ( not suitable for children or those with a nervous disposition it explained ) was of a gang of three murderous bandits, the Mallon brothers, who were eventually shot dead, this year, after 10 years of evading capture in the Luimba Valley, north-east of Lusaka.

Left: This display ( artwork ) is representative of one of the miriad battered and overloaded blue and white mini-bus 'taxis' which proliferate in all the towns and cities. They all look as if they have been involved in near death , if not fatal, collisions at some point. They often have slogans written on their rear windscreens, if there is a rear windscreen that is, such as 'Travel With God', 'Praise Jesus to Live', God on Bold ( not a misprint ) or 'Jesus Saves' ( though sadly misses the old punch-line 'but Mboko Scores on the Rebound' ), and with good cause I fear. One would need to believe in some supernatural protection to risk boarding one. Actually this one pictured would not look out of place amongst the  only slightly more roadworthy ones.

Talking of religion, did you know that the official title of this country is 'The Christian Republic of Zambia'? It is the only officially named 'Christian' country I believe ( as opposed to all those 'Islamic' ones ). The sort of Christianity that they practice, and there are hundreds of different branches,  is generally of the wacky happy-clappy variety involving much 'Praise the Lord!', cheering, applauding and raucous singing conducted by a manic, screaming swivel-eyed priest who whips his congregation up into a wild frenzy. They seem to enjoy this and no doubt the Sunday 'chuch suvisses' provide the poorer population with much needed entertainment and are the major social occasions of an otherwise boring week.

Right: The Lusaka Roman Catholic Cathedral. A strange edifice with the entire roof constructed from an enormous single sheet of corrugated iron. I expect the vicar has to do a bit of screaming to make himself heard during one of the tropical downpours.

There are one or two mosques springing up in the city, however I didn't see any 'daleks' floating around.






Left: One of the few monuments. This one is in front of the main government offices building on Independence Avenue from where the President ( currently Mr Sata ) takes the salute at the annual 'out of step' military parade. Above the word 'Freedom' it depicts a Zambian 'breaking the chains of oppression'. Once some wag graffitied on the plinth 'Just goes to show that an African can break anything'. This did not go down too well, as you can possibly imagine.











As mentioned, there are some smart hotels, the smartest being the Taj Pamodzi. We called in there for a gin & tonic. Most civilised, excellent service and presumably very expensive. Much of the eating, drinking and accommodation at the higher end of the market is very expensive because of taxes and the fact that everything worthwhile has to be imported.
Right: The doorman who has collected an impressive array of foreign badges. I noticed one from the Longwithy Darts Team!? Apparently his predecessor had even more and presumably retired when he could no longer stand up.








I took some photos of a few of the ex-colonial buildings still standing. This one, left, is the Supreme Court.
It was while photographing another that a car stopped beside me and I was told by a magnificently uniformed rear seat passenger that 'This is a restricted area. No photographs'. I then found myself surrounded by four threatening looking heavies ( well one was rather skinny and mean looking ) wearing the customary dark glasses and scowls. In the words of that irrepressible African icon, Lovemore Sibanda, I had been well and truly "kapchad". They demanded to know what I was doing and did I know what this building was? "No" I said, " perhaps you can tell me". They told me I was acting illegally, or some such. They began to give me quite an interrogation and I had visions of being bundled into their car and driven off to the local clink. Under these circumstances I adopt my rather convincing Mr Bean impersonation ( not difficult ). It seemed to work, fortunately. After a tense few minutes they began to realise I might be more trouble than it was worth, especially after being asked for my telephone number and address which I gave them...in London. They didn't get round to asking where I was staying in Lusaka. I think I remember wishing them a Happy New Year but resisted the temptation to ask them if they would pose for a photo. They did not smile, or reciprocate. After deleting the photo of the building they told me, not altogether politely, that I was 'released' and ''go away'. Phew! ( apparently it was the Ministry of Defence ). I was surprised they didn't ask me for a bit of 'income support'.
OK, I had a bit of a laugh about it afterwards but it demonstrates the volatility of some of the rather paranoid 'officials' one can inadvertently fall foul of in these places, even when not knowingly doing anything wrong; but there is a more insidious implication, not for me but for my host. If I had been taken away it would have been difficult not to admit where I was staying ( although I had conveniently forgotten the address anyway ) and that might have had serious consequences for both him and his family and their hard won business, reputation and even residency in the country.
You may have noticed that I have been reluctant to identify my enormously generous hosts. That is the reason why.
By the way, unlike many other Third World countries, Mr Bean does not seem to have made an impact here...yet.

Right: Nearby, the mausoleum for past, deceased, Presidents. At present it has only two incumbents. The redoubtable Kenneth Kaunda, KK, the first, is still alive and well and living in gracious  retirement in the country.









I think I was safe in taking this pic ( left ), the HQ of the Zambian Football Association. Zambia, until last year, was the top football nation in Africa ( beating South Africa and Nigeria ). This is quite an achievement considering the population is under 13 million people. They would probably beat England.








Right: A typical block of flats for the less well off. Architecture, and maintenance thereof, is not a Zambian strongpoint.











Left: The railway line through Lusaka with the main station in distance. I am normally keen on travelling by rail, but resisted the temptation here. The tracks are what you might describe as 'severely wonky', the rolling stock has seen much better days and breakdowns are frequent. Timetables ( for want of a better word ) are erratic; more a case of hope over expectation. I believe in most cases it is quicker, less painful and more reliable, to walk. On the plus side, it is cheap.



If this hasn't bored you enough there is more to follow from the great city of Lusaka!

CHRISTMAS IN DARKEST AFRICA

25th - 29th Dec 2013

Christmas breakfast

Christmas breakfast, on the verandah, consisted of Bolly, smoked salmon, and mince pies with brandy butter. Very healthy. The rest of the day was spent in considerable lethargy. All the farm workers  and house staff had the day off. Robin, the excellent engineer who had miraculously mended the Range Rover, had joined us. Bwana Banana broke the rules straight away by playing some 'Ding Dong Merrily' type carols sung by King's College Cambridge Choir, and I'm sure one or two of us inadvertently wished someone a Happy Christmas.

With much preparation and cooking 'by the seat of our pants', we managed to produce an excellent Christmas Dinner with only token 'decoration'; a very small Christmas tree plus lights and fairy on top, bought from the native 'Harrods' ( ShopRight, or some such ) in Ndola ( in the background of this photo ).

Told we had run out of brandy butter, I volunteered to make some form of imitation stuff with sugar, butter and brandy ( of which there was no shortage ). My concoction looked rather strange; a dull brown gritty sludge, which I put in the fridge. Shortly before dinner I went to inspect it and, magically, it had set into a delicious looking and tasting creamy brandy butter. Flushed with pride, I offered it to the others to taste. They appeared mighty impressed. Come the Christmas pud phase ( c/o Waitrose import ), my original disgusting sludge was produced. The bastards had swapped my concoction for some previously hidden genuine article. A cruel blow to my pride. They thought it funny; I vowed never to bother trying again.

Right: Tom, self and GD with our token Christmas tree and, for some reason, a small giraffe.











Boxing Day featured a Lunch Party given by friends of BB in Ndola. Our host here is South African and runs a construction company currently building a shopping 'mall' in town. I must say that the ex-pats I have met do live in comfortable and well appointed houses, most of which are hidden behind rather ugly brick wire-topped walls. They are generous entertainers.








Right: Our host's wife, Lorna, with a small selection of the pud. You can see why my diet has come to a sticky end. I will have to start all over again on return to Blighty. Thanks Lorna!














This 'lunch' went on until about 9.00pm. BB gave a highly amusing impromptu speech which included many filthy jokes, recitations and a lecture on how to 'slice' not 'scoop' the stilton. For once he failed to grossly insult anyone, cause a female 'target' to burst into tears or presage a mass walk out ( for which he is renowned ).








Right: The nearest I could get to recording wildlife on the farm.

We went on trips to and through a few towns in the area. Most of these were 'mining' towns and there are still many vast copper mines, both deep underground and open-cast. Copper has been and still is the major product of Zambia ( 7th largest copper producing country in the world ). It went through a dodgy period in the 90s when the government 'nationalised' the mines, but they are now 'de-nationalised' and back to profitable production.
Many of these mines are Chinese owned. The Chinese, as you are probably aware, are determinedly and successfully buying up mineral rights throughout Africa. They are also building much of the infra-structure, and providing 'gifts' such as the grandiose football stadium outside Ndola. One suspects that large backhanders are accepted by less than totally unbribable 'ministers' to facilitate the Chinese acquisitions. To put it bluntly, the Chinese seem to be colonising much of Africa, to get minerals, including oil, by economic persuasion. Sadly, not much of the wealth generated is put back into the local economy. It is sad to see what were once beautiful and thriving mining towns in the days of British colonisation fallen into scruffy, dirty decline. Africans, in general, really don't appear to have a clue, or give a toss, about their environment or the benefit of aesthetically pleasing surroundings. The rich ( and often corrupt ) minority hoard their lavish wealth, and the poor, the vast majority, are content to live a very basic existence with little ambition to better themselves. Sad but true.
Cases in point are the towns of Luanchya, Kitwe ( the centre of the mining industry ) and Mufulira ( near the DRC border ). One can still see remnants of beautiful villas, smart official buildings and tree lined avenues, but in general they have reverted to what can, at best, and kindly, be described as 'grotty'.

Left: What was the mining communities sports and recreation centre clubhouse in Luanshya, about 30 mins drive from Ndola. In it's heyday, during the British period, this place included a well appointed clubhouse, tennis courts, sports fields and a magnificent swimming pool.









The clubhouse is now empty and derelict except for this 'bar' ( right ) which, when I found it, had about six local customers who appeared a little worse for wear having much drink taken. Not the sort of place one would drop into for a convivial night out. Interestingly, lounging outside the front door were two rather sullen looking 'security guards'. What on earth they were guarding was unclear.






Left: The swimming pool which must once have been magnificent. There were a few locals using it, one of whom, a rather traditionally built lady, was washing her clothes in it.
You could not see the bottom, even at the shallow end, through the putrescent green water which had dead frogs and 'things' floating on the surface.







Right: The outside of a copper mine near Kitwe. There are many of these around the area but I didn't get the chance to go inside one. I expect you would need to speak Chinese to ask permission. You can find out anything you want to know about Zambian copper mines on the internet much better than I could describe.
Many main roads around this area are new and good ( Chinese built ) to service the copper industry presumably, although they seem to be laying not much tarmac on a bed of compacted dirt which doesn't bode well for their longevity.

Travelling to Mufulira, near the DRC ( Congo ) border, we passed, as normal, several police check points, or 'road blocks' as they are called. These exist primarily to provide 'income support' for the local police. They can nick you for speeding, not wearing a seat belt, licence deficiencies, vehicle faults, looking at them in a funny way or a myriad of other invented infringements should the mood take them. There is then a fine of 'negotiable' amount. It always pays to be grovellingly polite. Having said that we got stopped often enough but never got fined for anything.
There was a large crowd gathering and a long queue of vehicles approaching a bridge over a river  near Mufulira. Police, army, recovery vehicles, ambulances, rescue boats and all kind of emergency services were in attendance. Spectators were taking up position on vantage points overlooking the river. It all looked most dramatic and we were stationary for a long time. On asking a well armed soldier on the bridge what was going on we were told that someone had committed suicide by jumping into the river and they were searching for the body. This was obviously the most exciting thing to have happened in the area for a long time and was attracting an increasingly large crowd. I wouldn't be surprised if someone was selling tickets for the best seats.

Dotted along all the main roads are little stalls selling meagre amounts of fruit, or other trivial goods. Sometimes doors or deck-chairs. Sometimes it is just one lady with a small bowl of mangoes or similar. This little group, one of the more elaborate and well stocked branches, is fairly typical. They live a very hand to mouth existence some of them.








Right: A typical street in Mufulira. A very down at heel town but, as always, remnants of previous elegance exist in places. There is a nice church and one or two neglected grandish houses. We were there to collect a large quantity of wine and other goods sent up from South Africa. The delivery vehicle had broken down here. Everything breaks down sooner rather than later.

On return, a couple of hours later, to the site of the 'suicide' there was an increased vehicle tailback, but the crowds were beginning slowly to disperse. What exactly had happened and what the outcome was we never discovered, but it obviously provided an amusing diversion for the locals.

Off south for New Year leaving the Gallant Captain Daintry surrounded by bananas. Next stop Lusaka. Happy New Year to you all.

CONTINUED JOLLITIES

21st - 24th Dec 2013

Our host. Bwana Banana. He is rather camera shy.

As you are no doubt aware the 21st December is Sahagun Day. This is the day that all ex-15th/19th Hussars ( and 1 Regt RHA, for some reason ) celebrate the magnificent charge of the 15th Light Dragoons ( later Hussars ) which routed and put to flight two regiments of French near the Spanish town of Sahagun in 1808. 

We ( or at least I ) celebrated at another debauched feast that evening. I'm not quite sure that the others grasped the significance of this occasion.

This being the wet season there is normally a violent thunderstorm at some point in the afternoon and evening. During one of these a tree fell over the main electricity supply and we were plunged into darkness ( with battery power for emergency ) and on another the metal roof of the house was struck by lightening with a fearful bang. Lights out again and even the emergency farm generator was blown up. C'est la vie out here, but at least the internet works, intermittently.

Another slight disaster occurred when self and Gazza took the Range Rover into town to do some shopping. Talk about the blind leading the blind! At some point in the town centre the hydraulic steering packed up and much hassle to get it to a safe place. It looked as if half our vehicle fleet would be inop until after Christmas at least ( the nearest Landrover garage being in Lusaka, about 250 miles away and closed for the holiday anyway ). Fortunately Bwana B knew an engineer (ex-aircraft engineer ), Robin, who managed to fix it with the help of a hydraulic pipe mending expert.

Right: Teresa, the very jolly, and helpful, hydraulic pipe mender who, given the offending pipe, had it fixed in 15 minutes. A better service than you would get a most local workshops in UK I think. They have much experience in mending hydraulics due to all the mining operations in the area. It took a lot of dissembling and reassembling the engine, but all well that ends well. They need to be a resourceful bunch here.

Went on a walk around the farm to see a bit of local life. Still no sign of any wildlife, unless you count a few tiny frogs and birds and many insects. The 'dam' ( reservoir ) at the southern end is full of sewage; not the place for a refreshing dip, but still the locals fish it for no doubt highly polluted small fish. They use charity donated mosquito nets for fishing. Is that enterprising? Problem is they are then too wet, smell of fish and covered in sewage to use as mosquito nets.




Right: A local 'hut' near the dam. All mod-cons I expect but probably without TV or internet.

It doesn't get cold here in the evenings but Gazza insists that he feels chilly so occasionally huddles around a gas fire ( left ). He lost his white stick the other day because he had put it up against a white fridge and a white wall. We had a great 'hunt the stick' competition.

Right: Another magnificent pre-Christmas Sunday Lunch with a couple of local ex-pat families invited. The two wives very gallantly offered to do the cooking and a great roast beef, turkey etc. etc. feast ensued. Lots of crackers and paper hats. My diet has, unfortunately, gone for a ball of chalk.  

Left: Due to three Cresta riders being present we demonstrated and then got all the men present to participate in a Cresta 'Firework', something normally performed after races in the Sunny Bar at the Kulm Hotel in St Moritz. A bit of nonsense and Zambia is about as far from a winter sports venue as you can imagine.

Bwana B had gone to Johannesburg for a couple of days ( to buy bananas...don't ask ). On his return we all went off to collect another inmate for the farm; a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy which has been christened Rommel ( right ). This, unlike Mrs Potter and Mrs Perkins, the two terriers, is to be an 'outside' dog and it is hoped he will grow up to be a fearsome looking guard-dog.

Left: The house staff ( this is Martin the gardener ) brew their lunch on the lawn. This inevitably consists of mealy-meal with a sauce of some kind. I tried some. It was not too bad actually. The mealy-meal mash has the consistency and taste of rather bland and lumpy mashed potato/rice.

Another trip downtown to do yet more shopping, a constant task, and to visit the railway station. There is one train a week from Ndola, sometimes, which travels from top north through Ndola and Lusaka to Livingstone near Victoria Falls. It stops at about 50 little stations in between and takes over two days, unless it has a breakdown. It is cheap and I am told one travels in extreme discomfort. I'm not sure, even though I normally enjoy travelling by train, that I will risk this journey, although probably at no more risk of bed bugs than I experienced on the Ghan train in Oz to Darwin. The railway station was deserted except for a female security guard and a 'supervisor'. We were told we were not allowed inside until I said I was a senior British Rail manager on holiday and keen to see how railways such as this are so well run. We were then allowed onto the platform to see...a railway line, but NO PHOTOGRAPHS! and outside to clamber over a derelict locomotive ( above ) which looked as if it last ran about 80 years ago and was possibly designed personally by George Stephenson.

Right: Passing a local street-side market. One particularly 'traditionally built' and colourfully dressed lady selling dried fish became extremely agitated when I threatened to take her photograph. Can't think why. The others didn't seem to mind. I am always fascinated to see some of these ladies carrying enormous loads on their heads, perfectly balanced and seemingly oblivious to them, as per the old girl on the left of the pic.





Left: A dull but typical street in Ndola. Difficult to capture any particular scene which characterises the place. As said before, the architecture is functional and rudimentary. Driving around the town is relatively trouble free with no sign of aggressive driving even if some is a touch unpredictable. Drivers even stop considerately to let you reverse out into a busy main road. Driving on the main roads is a touch more hazardous, especially after dark ( trucks often have few lights ) and is discouraged. Lots of speed cameras are operated on main roads by the cops, with great enthusiasm. A good source of revenue, either governmental or personal, which they have probably learnt from the civilised west.

Just off the road towards Battledore Farm is this watering hole, the Second Chance Pub ( right ). We stopped for a beer and were cordially entertained by a group of locals. They turned out to be policemen, detectives they told us, and were most pleasant and chatty. One called himself Obama. We even bought them a drink. Most convivial amid some loud and jolly music.






Unfortunately, the senior guy amongst them ( the one in the pink shirt ) rather blotted his copybook when we were leaving by following us back to our car and rather forcefully suggested that we might contribute something ( money ) to 'make for him a Happy Christmas". We told him very politely to procreate and travel.

Christmas Day tomorrow when we hope to have a non-traditional celebration where all decorations, presents, and even the mention of 'Happy Christmas' are banned. The food and drink will undoubtedly be delicious and plentiful amid much happy banter and 'bah humbug'.