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Terrified in the Treetops

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It has been quite a couple of weeks what with one thing and another. Rowan, our daughter and Ben, her boyfriend, came over to South Africa for a three week adventure. This began with them going to Cape Town, to stay with my brother and family. They arrived very late on Tuesday evening off the daylight flight from Amsterdam. Derek and Lynn and the girls looked after them magnificently, and they had a wonderful time.

On the Saturday they flew up to Durban which is where they were to be based for the next two weeks. I was at work at the University and at about two o’clock I became aware that there was a southerly gale blowing. This meant the plane might be early and so I headed for the airport at high speed. Their aircraft was indeed 20 minutes ahead of schedule, but fortunately I was there in time. The beasts had organized their social life well in advance. After having supper with me they headed for a party with one of Rowan’s old school friends. I decided that I would therefore go to the cinema as I didn’t want to be sitting at home, (apparently) waiting for their return. I went and saw the chic-flic movie ‘It’s Complicated’ which I rather enjoyed.

Rowan and Ben stayed in Durban for the Sunday and Monday and on Tuesday drove up to the game reserves in the Hluhulwe area staying at a place the family love: Bonamanzi Game farm. Rowan first went there aged nine months. They reported seeing a lot of game; having an opportunity to visit the cheetah farm (cheetah’s purr); and getting drenched in a huge storm which left their treehouse without power or water. They got back on Friday and we went to a ‘standard’ Durban Manor Gardens Easter party on the Sunday. It no longer involves hunting for Easter eggs, most of the children are now way too old for this. It did involve sitting and talking and catching up with our neighborhood.

On the Monday I went to Swaziland to spend a couple of days doing research, but also to give them an opportunity to enjoy Durban by themselves. I returned on the Wednesday and took Friday off as they wanted go on the Karkloof Canopy Tours. According to the blurb “the canopy tour involves traversing from one platform to another along a steel cable suspended up to 30 meters about the forest floor. The tour comprises seven platforms and eight slides that zigzag down a pristine forested valley. The scenery and bird life are spectacular and the professional guides providing interesting facts about the forest ecology during the tour”.

That is the experience that most people may have; for me it was moments of amazement in a sustained period of sheer terror. The mountain is located about an hour and a half drive away from Durban. At the foot is a beautiful little set of cottages where visitors get their safety harness and a briefing. We then climbed into a Landrover and were driven to the top of the mountain. There were four of us doing the tour and there were three guides to make sure we were OK. Effectively one is clipped onto a steel cable, with a second cable as a safety device. There are two links to the main cable and one to the safety cable so it is very safe

The first slide is short, only 40 meters and is quite easy. Doing this one learns how to brake with the large leather glove on your hand. The second slide comprises of two ropes that disappear into the mist for 100 meters, taking you to the waterfall. Jumping off a platform and sliding down for this distance is not something that comes naturally. For the first three slides I went last. On the fourth slide I was told I was to go first (‘last in first out’ in trade union terms). It was hugely embarrassing because I slid down from one platform for 175 meters; arrived at the next platform; and gently bounced back five meters away from it. We had been told what to do if this happened: monkey climb; put your hands on the cable and haul yourself into the platform.

What we had not been told is what to do if, as I was, you were too terrified to even let go of the harness as you gently swung above the gorge. I tried monkey climbing, but I was shaking too much and so had to say to the guide: “please come and rescue me”. One of them shinned down the rope and hauled me back up catching my hand between two harnesses as he did. I sat on the platform shaking, sweating, pallid, and appalled at what I was doing. The other three arrived and looked at me and made helpful comments like:

“Oh shame”; “You are doing very well dad”, and “Not much more to go”.

Fortunately at this point we were given a small chocolate and a drink, the energy was absolutely necessary. There were three slides to go and I have to admit that I went in tandem with one of the guides who took responsibility for controlling the speed as we flew down those aerial rope-ways. What an experience. Rowan and Ben think it was one of the best things they had every done. I think I was insane. I hate heights at the best of times and this was clearly way way out of my comfort zone. They told me that the views were spectacular. I can’t comment, my eyes were closed for parts of the journey. At the end of the tour we were given a free drink and toasted sandwich, (they laughingly call this a delicious Midlands meal in their brochure). I am still processing the event!

From there it was back to Durban for Rowan’s final evening and we took the Brauninger family (who are old friends and had seen a great deal of Rowan and Ben) out for dinner. I had thought it would be possible to get a table for eight people at one of my favorite restaurants. This was completely not the case on a Friday evening. We ended up at a restaurant on Davenport Road.

The evening had the potential to be a complete disaster. Rowan, Ben and I walked down from my flat to the restaurant to get just there after 7.15pm. We informed the manager that we had a booking for 7.30pm. He denied it. Brigitta who had made the booking arrived shortly after, and the manager admitted that they had taken the booking but someone else had commandeered the table. We were put in the lounge area, sitting on leather cowhide seats. These were untanned and hairy which didn’t work for those people wearing shirts or shorts as the back of one’s’ legs were prickled and tickled.

It took nearly 40 minutes before we got a table and in the meantime the waitress came and got one drinks order at a time and brought us one drink at a time. The wine was red and hot an attribute one does not want. The day did not improve, the manager informed us that it was better to be inside under the fans than outside in the breeze, it would be cooler he said, members of the party wanted to smoke and went outside and report that this was definitely not the case. However when they were outside they had overheard the manager speaking about our party, being quite uncomplimentary about us, a complete lack of professionalism.

Eventually, an hour after we got to the re, we given a table, seated and orders taken. By this stage everyone was bad tempered and hungry. The food came and those of us who had order side dishes found we got meager portions. Rowan had a meal which had pesto on it which she detests. She said if she wanted pesto she would have ordered it.

Just as the food started coming from the kitchen, the switch on the distributor board on the pole outside the restaurant tripped, and we were plunged into darkness. Because the kitchen cooks with gas they were able to bring our means but it meant that their extractor fans ceased working and the inside of the restaurant gradually filled up with greasy smoke. Rowan, a vegetarian, went to the rest room and came back feeling quite nauseated. “Dad I walked through a cloud of meat”.

It was the only restaurant on the street affected in this way and was badly handled no apology just blame for the city council. Patrons were expected to simply carry on as though nothing had happened. Although that wasn’t quite the case because the waitress came over and said “Our computers are going to go down, please would you mind paying your bill now?’

We were paying cash so this was irrelevant. She carried on pushing until she had the money in her hand. By this time everyone was extremely irritated. I went to the manager and asked, “How much will you charge me for a tub of ice cream”.

“Why? Won’t you stay here”, he said.

So I told him why we would not in clear terms. All’s well that ends well though, we went to the flat and had ice-cream and several more bottles of wine. On the Saturday Rowan, Ben and I went over for breakfast to Mitchell Park; the weather had changed, it was grey, overcast, cold and a strong wind was blowing from the South. I dropped them at the airport at about 12.30. They flew to Johannesburg and then had to wait for 10 hours in before getting on the plane to Amsterdam and then connecting on the flight to Norwich. I got news, on Sunday that they had arrived back safely after an adventurous and I think very much fun time in South Africa. It was quite strange having company for this amount of time and probably rather good. They got in a decent amount of beach time which I think they very much appreciated.

Of course while all this holiday fun was going on here in South Africa we have had three major events. The first the murder of Eugene Terre´Blanche, a right-wing Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging leader. He had spent some years in prison in the 1990s and I can’t say his passing was greatly mourned by anyone. The second issue has been Julius Malema who has been severely reprimanded by President Zuma over his inflammatory behaviour. All this against a backdrop of us moving closer and closer to the World Cup. This stadia are complete, South Africa is ready but sadly it seems as though many fewer tourists than expected will be arriving for this event. I fear that Fifa has oversold and under delivered on the World Cup.

Lions In Lusaka And Down In Durban

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Mercifully planes usually leave on time, so I am feeling slightly hard done by at the moment. I travelled from Norwich to Amsterdam on Sunday 31st May. The check-in for the flight from Norwich is at 05h10 in the morning, a brutal time to have to be awake and functioning. The plane leaving Amsterdam was about an hour late, a pain because we only got to Joburg at 10pm. Although I was spending the night at the Intercontinental Hotel right next to the terminal,I had to be up again the next morning at 05h00, the Monday flight to Lusaka was at 06h30!

Then coming travelling back to Joburg and Durban two days later we had to leave the hotel at 06h45, so I had my share of early mornings.

All the other flights were on time, and so when I left Durban a few days ago on Sunday I felt quite good.  I need to keep my Gold frequent flyer card on South African Airways so decided I would travel with them, instead of the usual KLM flight to Amsterdam followed by the short hop to Norwich. It means taking a trains and tubes from Heathrow to Norwich.

The trip back did not start well. I worked at the University in the morning, up to about 11h30 and then went home to pack. I was booked on the 16h55 flight to Joburg. As I had arranged to meet the Principal of Waterford School for dinner, at 17h00, I knew I had to get an earlier flight – and decided the 15h40 would work. My planned steady, measured packing, with a shower at the end and a reasonably early arrival at the airport to change my ticket was thrown into complete disarray. I know, to deal with failing memory and the fact I travel so much, have a checklist of things I must take. Running through it I realised I had left my flash disk with all the documents I was working on, at the office. Under normal circumstances it is a 35 minute round trip. I did it in 22 minutes. I left the flat in a cab at 14h45. I made it, albeit drenched in sweat!

However things really deteriorated in Joburg. Laurence and I had our meeting, and very useful it was too. He drove from Swaziland just for this, although we also had a meal, which turned out, with hindsight, to be a good decision. I then wandered through to the departures lounge in our magnificent new airport.

For the past three years, or more, O. R. Tambo airport has been undergoing massive renovations and expansion. This is in part to cater for the 2010 soccer cup. It has been amazing, and impressive as the airport has continued to function without too many hitches, albeit a degree of dust, noise and inconvenience. It has been worth it, the new facilities are magnificent. The arrivals halls are huge, clean, airy, and efficient. This has had a knock on effect on the staff. They are friendly, helpful, smiling, and happy, so unlike any airport I have been to in the last few years. Normally the attitude is that you have done something wrong until proven otherwise.

“Why do you’, said with contempt, “want to come into our country. How are you going to exploit us and misuse us?”  We seem to have a virtuous circle developing in South Africa, long may it continue. There is still work to be done, in particular there is a temporary international Business Class lounge, which is crowded and has no toilets on site.

The boarding time for the London flight was scheduled for 19h35. I did some shopping and wandered to the gate. A great deal of nothing was happening. After half an hour I went up to the First Class lounge and asked the receptionist if she knew what was going on, explaining at the same time that the business lounge was not particularly pleasant.

“That is OK, sir “, she said understandingly, “We are not busy you can sit here”.

And that is where I was until we boarded at 23h00. The problem was a ‘relay’ controlling power to the business class cabin and it meant there was no in-flight entertainment, nor would the seats recline. It was finally fixed for almost all the seats but not 5D or 5E. I, of course, was in 5D!!

So what were the good things? Well I normally travel on KLM and I was cursing my decision to go on SAA, until looking at the screens, I saw that KLM’s flight had been cancelled. If I had been doing my normal route I would have had a 24 hour delay! I was in business class and that meant that I slept on a fully reclining seat. I was not travelling with babies or rug rats, although there was a small infestation at the front of the cabin. There are such swings and roundabouts in travel and most of it is not anything one can control.  One has to grab what pleasure you can, and the fact that my bag was among the first off the plane at both Joburg and Heathrow was a small victory!

The Swedish International Development Agency reference group meeting was held at Chimanuka lodge about  30 minutes drive from Lusaka http://www.chimanuka.com . It is a delightful spot. The owners have excellent rooms and conference facilities. They have farm land in the area, but the lodge is centred in a game farm. On the property there is also a cheese factory. It is possible to have a game drive and a tours of the cheese factory. They also have, in a separate, and one hopes, very secure enclosure.

I have to digress here and tell of an event that happened when I was about four years old. We lived on a cattle farm outside Nairobi in an areas close to game reserves. One of the lions developed a taste for, easy to catch cattle, and so the young British farmers decided that said lion had to be shot. The story goes that they sat in a hide near the carcase of the last kill all night. Just before dawn, at the time the first birds start clearing their throats, they gave up. Walking along the road they were swinging the torch and suddenly, caught in the light, was the lion, eyes and teeth gleaming. Somehow one of the chaps managed to get his rifle up, and with a lucky shot, killed the lion stone dead.

There was much excitement in the community. The staff of the little pre-primary school I was at, decided that it would be fun if we were taken to see the dead lion. Indeed I recall being placed on its back and having my photograph taken. I would like to think I was an unusually sensitive child, but that may not be the case, just my wistful thinking. This outing made a deep impression on me. When I have nightmares involving animals it is always lions that feature prominently.

So back to events in Zambia. After a day of meetings we decided to go for a walk. It was dusk, a beautiful African evening. We walked down toward the lion enclosure – and I could hear them roaring quietly in the distance. We got as far as the dam and watched the dying sun. It was idyllic, thorn trees and clouds reflected in the water, standing listening to the chirp and croak of the frogs and the various noise of the African night. Suddenly the lion roared about 20 metres away on the other side of the fence. I leapt two metres into the air and my pulse was racing. I managed to play cool, and we nonchalantly walked back, with me taking comfort from the knowledge that while I could not outrun a lion, I was pretty confident that I was faster than at least two of our party.

It was really good to be back in Southern Africa and I felt so comfortable, which is probably a bad sign I need a challenge and a change.

Circumcised Statues In Oslo

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Over the past ten days my destinations have been Olso, Stockholm, Uppsala and Liverpool. I was invited to take part in an interesting conference in Uppsala on “HIV and AIDS, Political Mobilization and Democracy?” This was organised by Forumsyd a Swedish NGO (forum south in English); SIDA, the Swedish Development Agency and Uppsala University. Given that I had to go to Scandinavia I decided to visit HEARD’s supporters in Oslo and Stockholm.

I flew over to Oslo on Sunday 10th May. Or at least I thought I was flying to Oslo but on getting to Amsterdam I looked at the departure board and saw that there was a plane to Oslo and then mine to Sandefjord Airport. This airport does indeed serve Oslo but is nearly 120 kilometres south! On arrival I had to work out how to get to Oslo – The choices were bus (nearly 2 hours); train but this required taking a shuttle bus to the station; or taxi which would have been impossibly expensive. I asked the driver of the rail shuttle bus which he thought would be my best option and he charmingly and honestly said: “Train of course, it is much nicer”, but then added “but not today we are using buses because there is a problem on the line”. I took the express bus!

I had looked at the weather forecast and it had seemed to be unrelentingly wet and cool, but this was not the case, it was sunny and pleasant the whole time and everywhere! What was striking was the extra daylight. I went to bed at 10 pm it was light; I woke up at 3 am and it was light again! This would take some getting used to if one lived there. In addition the size of the rooms and beds in the cheaper (but still expensive) hotels required a mental adjustment. In all three locations there was only a shower in the room and two had very small single beds.

I had a very useful day and a half in Oslo. Unfortunately my last appointment was in a slightly run down part of the city. Try as we might neither the taxi driver nor I could find the office, so I had to miss that meeting. The driver having taken money for the  trip to the location hung around and helped me look then took me back to my hotel so I could head for the airport without charging for the additional time, which was really decent. I felt so guilty about it though.

I was taken out to a really nice restaurant and told by my host that if I did only one thing in Oslo, I had to go to Frogner Park and look at the Vigeland Sculpture. She kindly put on the right tram to get there. It was a really beautiful evening so this was not a hardship. The sculptures are amazing, the website I found ishttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vigeland_Sculpture_Park and it is worth a look. The sculptures consist mainly of large naked men, with fewer women and some children and animals. They were sculpted in clay and caste in bronze or carved from granite. My favourite was the Wheel of Life. It was also clear that his male models were not circumcised! I walked back to the city and hotel, easy because it was all down hill, enjoying the evening.

From there it was off to Stockholm. This time I went from Oslo airport, but it was still a 65 minute trip on the bus from the city centre! The flight was 50 minutes, the plane was packed and the cabin crew still managed to serve drinks, a meal and tea and coffee in this time, while remaining calm, amazing. Arlanda airport is well seved by an efficient train that runs into Stockholm and I then headed to my hotel for my one night in the city..

Over the course of the trip I gave two presentations in Oslo and one each in Uppsala and Stockholm. The conference was interesting, there were new ideas and a number of people I had not met. It was particularly pleasing to have a chance to talk to a PhD candidate who is looking at the role of media in the response to the epidemic in Lesotho and Namibia. It it is clear to me that we, in Southern Africa and at HEARD, are ahead in our thinking, and that kind of affirmation is much appreciated.

Oslo is a beautiful small city. It was good to finally get there as I have never visited it. Stockholm is much busier. I had a city map for both locations and was amused to do a little analysis of the avertisments in the boxes around the central plan. They have about the same number of boxed adverts. On the Oslo map five of the 23 were for shops selling sweaters or other knitted goods, the balance were for resturants and sightseeing. The Swedes by contrast are more into general shopping including jewelery, there was not a single sweater shop.

Uppsala is a bucolic small town a forty minute train ride from Stockholm. We were housed is quite odd little hotel called the Muttern with only 26 rooms. Their website is  http://www.hotellmuttern.se The wardrobe was on a swivel stand, one side the mirror the other the opening for clothes and hanging jackets. It smacked of Ikea! The cathedral which was begun in 1287 is an amazing brick building.

The town itself is centred around the University, and so had all the standard features of such towns. These included hordes of students riding bicycles; cheap eating places and lots of pubs; and in the evening students staggering through the streets with open bottles and tins in their hands. They lined up at the pedestrian crossings and then eratically weaved the way across. I have not seen men urinating in public in the northern hemishere (except next to roads, and then with the car door as concealment), well in Uppsala brought that experience as well. The other striking feature was the largen numbers of Goths, who seemed to congregate like crows in the open spaces, sitting in circles and passing joints and booze.

I took a taxi from the hotel to the airport, it was driven by a melancholic Swede in his 40s, who unusually, did not speak English. It is, of course, possible that he choose not to speak though. As I  sat in the front I had ample opportunity to study his picture on the licence, and learn his name, Kenneth Lars Lindstrom. I could not decide if he looked shifty or sad, and eventually concluded he was carrying the weight of being Swedish on his shoulders. The driver from the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine by contrast did not stop talking. He said he really enjoys his job because he gets to meet all these interesting people. Quite how he knows they are interesting was unclear as he does all the talking. He has collected me a few times and I know a lot about him, but he does not remember this.

The visit to Liverpool was to attend a meeting on “Strengthening the research to policy and practice interface: Exploring strategies used by research organisations working on Sexual and Reproductive Health and HIV and AIDS”. We had three HEARD, two by Tim Quinlan and one co-authored by myself and Fiona Henry on Swaziland, Fiona gave the presentation which was excellent. It is clear we are punching above our weight.

And my reading:The Virus, Vitamins and Vegatables: The South African HIV/AIDS Mystery, eds Kerry Cullinan and Anso Thom, Jacana media, Aukland Park, 2009, 211 page.
In their foreword, the editors write: “This book is an attempt to document some of the madness, sheer weirdness and despair of a decade with Mbeki and Tshabalala-Msimang. We are doing so to safeguard the future. We want to present this book as evidence to citizens of this country and the world and say, ‘This is what happened and we need to ensure that it never happens again.'”  Worth reading? Absolutely! 9 out of 10 for content; 8 for perception and 7 for writing style, this last because it is an edited collection it is a bit uneven.
Sexuality: A Very Short Introduction, Veronique Mottier, Oxford University Press Oxford, 2008, 160 pages.
This looks at how sexuality is determined, our genes or is it shaped by the social norms and expectations. It claims to provide an accessible, thoughtful and thought-provoking introduction to major debates around sexuality in the modern world, highlighting the social and political aspects of sexuality. It also looks at how governments have tried to regulate sexualities. It finishes by discussing political activism around sexuality. I found it useful however am not convinced of the perspective that she takes at the end. I think there is too much on gay politics. Worth reading? Yes because it is a VSI! 7 out of 10 for content; 7 for perception and 7 for writing style.
Dead aid: why aid is not working and how there is a better way for Africa, Dambisa Moyo, Farrar, Straus and Giroux,, New York, 2009 188 pages
This is a short but powerful book. The author, a Zambian woman, grew up in Lusaka but left to study in the US. She has worked for the World Bank and Goldman Sachs and has a PhD from Oxford. Her credentials are impeccable. Moyo argues the problem with Africa, the reason it is not developing, is the trillions of dollars in aid that has been poured into the continent. Her critique of aid in the first part of this little book is damning in the second part she has policy prescriptions.  Worth reading? Yes because if you are interested in Africa and development aid, otherwise probably not! 8 out of 10 for content; 7 for perception and 6 for writing style.

Humus Family And Ruins Turkey

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I have just been on a family holiday. That meant Douglas, who will be 15 in May, Rowan, who is about to complete her first year at university, Ailsa, and I headed off for just over a week in Turkey. We decided to go there because my brother, Derek, who moved to Istanbul with his family about 18 months ago, has chucked in his – very unsatisfactory – job and will be leaving in early July. They are thinking of moving to Cape Town, where he intends to start a consultancy company.

This means that we are unlikely to see them much so we decided to go to Istanbul and spend a bit of time doing family bonding. My sister Gill also went over for Easter, so the entire family were there!

It was fascinating, the family dynamics alone made the visit worth it. Given the huge number of miles I had clocked up on KLM it was easy to book airmiles tickets, (in business class as well) and we flew over on Tuesday 7th and returned on Wednesday 15th April. Turkey was not at all what I had expected.

The flight over was uneventful, other than the fact we arrived at one am. However we whisked through getting visas and passport control. Our luggage was among the first pieces to be delivered. A quick journey and we were able to check-in to the hotel in the centre of Istanbul and fall into bed.

On our first day we arranged to meet Derek and Gill for lunch, a cruise on the Bosporus, a drive up the coast and then, horror of horrors, the school musical play in which my eldest niece had a starring role. I am a reluctant spectator of even my own children’s school plays. I end up going to Waterford School end of term events every time we have a governor’s meeting at the school. I say to the head, ‘Laurence I don’t want to sit through this play/performance/dance’. He responds, ‘You have to, you are a governor”. So not only do I see the performance but it is also from the front row. It was fun though and Emily performed well.

After the lunch and cruise we got in his monstrous SUV and headed out into the Istanbul traffic, which was a nightmare.  Derek explained the Zen of driving in Istanbul. According to him involves patience, being calm, allowing people to push in front of you because you will push in front of others. He was Zen-like. We drove up the coast, had a cup of Turkish coffee, think sweet black mud, and you will have the picture. I really like it and drank copious quantities over the holiday! After this we headed for the school, the play starting at 7 pm. And we hit traffic. The minutes ticked away. It was apparent we were not going anywhere fast. Zen began to disappear and the driving became more aggressive and intolerant.

The trip was in three parts, Istanbul for three nights, then down to Ephesus, (to be strictly accurate the village of Selcuk about three kilometres from the ruins of Ephesus) for three nights, and finally back to Istanbul for two nights. It was an astonishingly interesting trip and well worth it.

The themes were traffic, ruins and history, hospitality and family dynamics. The traffic in Istanbul was quite horrendous. Derek is an optimistic soul. On the Friday we were flying from Istanbul to Izmar the nearest airport to Ephesus. Derek kindly offered to take us to the airport. We had to leave by 2 pm. He said that this would not be a problem. He had to bring his family in to the city for an appointment with the police to sort out residence issues and all the family had to present themselves in person. He had set up an appointment for 11.15. His wife pointed out that the children had to go to school for maths tests which could not be missed therefore they were unlikely to get to the police in time. He was confident they would make the appointment, and he would then be able to deliver us to the airport in plenty of time. His family greeted us on the run to their appointment at 12.30. The Zen view had now been replaced by a Tom and Jerry like freneticism.

We took a taxi to the airport, which cost an arm a leg and some hip. I sat in the front seat watching with horror as the meter ticked up, and occasionally asking the driver to slow down. Not, of course expecting the fare to be any less, but just wanting to be alive to pay it. Coming back we were picked up by the hotel shuttle, a huge Mercedes bus, and spent nearly two hours travelling back to the city. There was a 10 kilometre tailback to get onto the bridge across the Bosporus, there are only two bridges joining Europe to Asia. By contrast in Selcuk it was possible to meander across the main road. When we hired a car Rowan felt confident enough to drive, and was very happy to do so, because she was legally allowed to!

In most countries one has to be over 21 to drive an hire car and I had thought it would be the case in Turkey. She went: ‘nyah nyah’.

The hospitality was superb. Every airport pick-up was there on time and the vehicles were clean and comfortable. The first hotel was just OK but the boutique hotels in Selcuk and Istanbul were comfortable and roomy and the staff friendly and helpful. At one café we had just a drink each and were given biscuits by the proprietor. He noted how much Rowan enjoyed them and gave her the rest of the packet. Of course her blue eyes and charming smile may have helped. Over the time we were there we only had one meal where the service was poor, and that was not the fault of the waiter but of the kitchen. The food was uniformly good.

We went to many shopping areas and while the shop owners and assistants were keen to sell they were polite and to the man were not overly pushy. And in that sentence is one clear downside of the country, I left feeling it is hugely chauvinist and possibly even misogynist. There were few women in the shops or the service industry anywhere we visited. The men were highly visible and clearly have enjoyable lives (outside the home at any rate), spending time in cafes and bars, which are male dominated.

Throughout the visit I had a sense of history and humanity. The ruins of Ephesus, a major city of Asia minor, and an important port until the harbour silted up was once home to 200 000 people. What remains is impressive, temples, houses, public areas and even a public latrine, seating up to 16 people. There was no evidence of privacy between the holes in the marble. Perhaps defecation was a communal, and even enjoyable, activity in those times, the guidebooks do not elucidate on this interesting issue. There were two stadia built into the side of the hills, in an economical design, making maximum use of local topography.  In one’s minds eye one can visualise the plays, performances and meetings that must have taken place there.

In Selcuk is an Ottoman castle; the ruins of a basilica built for St John the apostle, which would have been the sixth biggest cathedral in the world if it were standing; and the pagan temple of Artemis. Ephesus is just three kilometres outside the village and a little further away is the little church marking the site of the house reputed to be where Mary Magdalene ended her days. One has to feel sorry for Joseph, who fades out of the story completely – mind you with omnipotent in-laws who could blame him!

Ephesus apart from being home to St John, and the destination of Paul’s letters to the Ephesians, was also the site of one of the early synods which defined Christianity and what was accepted in the bible. Istanbul, too, has many sites worth visiting and I shall have to return. The children do a museum at a fast trot and then complain of being bored.

So what do I conclude? I need to spend more time processing what we saw and did. I need to try writing some more word pictures. While away I finished reading the excellent book by Oliver James, Affluenza,  and began Nassim Nicholas Taleb’s thought provoking, The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable. Both books are about the human condition and where we are at the beginning of this century. Seeing the historical sites in this context was eye opening.

I am incredibly fortunate to be alive now, to have my opportunities to travel, and be with family and friends. In this unequal world we are extremely privileged and we need to be aware of this and try to give back in other settings if we possibly can. I know that I do not do all I could or indeed all I should but at least recognising privilege and having a sense of fun and pleasure at the experiences we have is a measure of humanity. At least I hope so. And so until I next sit down and write a plane letter let me sign off.