Richard Stupart

Watching Abu Simbel shining in the night sky and surrounded with the dark desert beyond, brought in on the cold winds that cut across the deck of our ferry, I said my silent goodbyes to Sudan. In truth, I had said farewell out loud, in person, the evening before. Standing in the dust beyond the town and watching the white sky turn silently orange, then red, before finally burning out into the deep blue twilight of evening in the desert . My goodbye was presided over by the still slightly veiled moon, saving its face for the next night’s transition to Aswan. There I stood and whispered my goodbyes to Wadi Halfa, to Sudan, to beautiful, kind people met and landscapes that I had only ever been able to fractionally guess at before.

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Or not. There is no Christmas in Sudan – not even the bubble-wrapped version where the jolly Santa Claus puts you on his knees and hears your Christmas wishes. No sir. Tomorrow will be another day of bright sun, delicious schwarmas, clapped out yellow taxis and business as usual.

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I’ve been in Ethiopia for almost two weeks now. It’s been a delicious downtime from constant traveling up to this point – a chance to stop thinking about Cairo, about endings, about the fact that nothing lasts forever. But this morning it will be time to move on. To Metema at the edge of Ethiopia and on into Sudan to write the closing chapters in this journey.

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The last week and a bit I have been in Ethiopia, drinking delicious coffee, wandering around the ruins of castles I had never known Africa capable of possessing and ruminating on the big questions of life, the universe and everything (yes, I brought a towel). On Monday I am leaving Gonder in the north for a tiny spec of a town called Metema for the crossing into Sudan and the final leg north to Cairo.

I promise to post something before then, but for now wanted to show off the first actual piece of writing I’ve had published somewhere that isn’t this blog.

Glow.

It’s dark. We left Marsabit an hour ago, by which time night had long fallen, but as I clamber down into the lorry’s cargo hold, the darkness becomes a dense, clinging oil. Occasionally pierced by small torches as the dozen or so others in the small space jostle for enough space to sleep in as the frame of the vehicle bangs and squeaks and unexpectedly leaps into the air.

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Taken straight out of my journal notes. Disclaimer for poor grammar,etc :)

At the matatu station, I am relieved to find that there are still matatus departing for Isiolo via Nanyuki, despite Nairobi’s ungodly rush hour traffic thoroughly interfering with any attempt to arrive and board quickly after leaving the Sudanese embassy. A wired and wide-eyed but friendly, khat-chewing conductor named Martin gets me packed tightly into the next-departing matatu, managing to fit me, my pack and my day-bag into the tiny interior without upsetting the rest of the passengers’ seating arrangements. Truly a miracle. While sitting out the long wait for out matatu to get a nose in the jammed traffic in order to pull off, Martin lectures me extensively about khat. Where it grows (Kenya, he tells me). How to eat it (you just chew it and pack it in your cheeks, in the style of a hamster). It’s authoritative-sounding advice and I make a note to try and find some khat in Ethiopia (he was wrong on that score – it in fact grows there extensively) Read the rest of this entry »

Taken straight out of my journal notes. Disclaimer for poor grammar,etc

It’s moving day again today. Somehow another three mosquitos managed to get into my mosquito net and haunt my dreams. I wonder sometimes if it’s not called a mosquito net because it attracts them. I’m not feeling entirely well this morning – almost fluey. Putting it down to the effects of extended travel, I make a note to find some vitamins somewhere this morning. I’m al;so quite thirsty, and realise that i’ve not actually drunk anything since around lunchtime yesterday. I’ve not seen much bottled water on sale here (as compared to, say, Tanzania) and a quick check in the guidebook is silent on the issue of water drinkability. So I chance it and drink from the tap in my room. I’ll know in time if that was a silly idea or not.

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The enterprising folk over at tripbase (thanks to Rob for letting me know) are busy collectively picking the brains of people with an affinity for different-looking scenery, exploratory bus rides and otherwise off-the-well-paved-path travel. They are looking for three travel secrets from anyone who has them – places you were completely wowed by, would love to return to, but are pretty sure that most people haven’t realised exist yet.
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Hi Richard

I am you, five years from where you are now. You are about to travel to Asia for the first time – to Malaysia. I know you are excited and have absolutely no idea what you will encounter there. But know that it will be the start of a way of thinking that will come to consume you as the years pass. You will journey much more, on paths much further than that you now confront – and it is in this spirit that I am writing back to you. To give you a thought on your travels – borrowing a few pages from that other famous speech about life that routinely does the rounds on the Internet. If I could give you only one piece of advice above all others, it would be this. Read the rest of this entry »