Well I couldn't possibly leave my last post with the question of whether me and the bike made it back to blighty or not. So I thought it only fair to let you all know (I can tell you were all SOOO concerned! Ha!).
Finally after much deliberation on how to get home and whether to sell my bike not, I decided I was far to much of a sucker for nostalgia and of course stubborn and could not tear myself away from my beaten up KLR. Therefore I decided the way to finish off the trip was a trip home on a cargo boat.
On the 8th January I boarded the Grand Brazil cargo vessel in Buenos Aires, with a slight tear in my eye, not because I was leaving, but because I now have a depressingly large credit card bill to pay for this boating luxury off we went.
The boat sailed via Paranagua, Santos then over to Dakar up to Hamburg and finally Tilbury and home. In all it took 24 days. I was on a Swedish registered vessel with Philippine crew, and everyone seemed very pleasant which was a relief as I was the only passenger so the onset of insanity was very real consideration what with having to talk to myself for over 3 weeks!
I don't have too much to report on Santos and Paranagua. Nice enough but after a quick look round I was done. Rio was really nice, and I found the energy to have a look round the city to see all the usual stuff. On the way back to the port I ended up getting hopelessly lost, and in true ME style I ended up in a Favella near the port. Now my Spanish is OK these days, but my Portuguese is non existent, but lucky for me the word for Kill and Dangerous seem to be very similar, so my suspicions were mildly aroused by various weathered locals clawing at me blathering these words. All was confirmed when a Hilux topped up with heavily armed police went tearing past. At this stage I decided if I wanted to continue floating across the Atlantic it would be best to turn around and find another way back. Finally after a few failed attempts I managed to find a fairly safe looking road to the port entrance, but having thought about it some more, what serious disappointment any mugger would have felt having risked robbing me for my life savings of $1.76, so maybe I was worrying for nothing.
The trip to West Africa was a good laugh as the Sun was out and with bugger all to do I could concentrate of trying to build up the ever illusive base tan that seems to be required of anyone who wants at least someone to believe they have been abroad and not in the pub round the corner for 8 months. With this in mind the week to Senegal went by very nicely, complimented of course by the Karaoke that the Filipinos seem to love, and with my singing voice I'm sure they were all desperately jealous! Also how could I forget the Olympic size pool (actually it was a large bath tub with salt water in it) and of course the Gym (1 broken exercise bike)
The arrival in Senegal was great. I must admit I have a soft spot for Africa and all that seems to go with it, so with my return to Senegal I found many things quite endearing. Namely the important observation I have made regarding cats...
Now something suspicious is going on here. In South and Central America there seems to be a huge shortage of mangy cats but plenty of dead dogs, whilst in Africa it has always been the opposite (maybe the cats are more streetwise). I got off the boat and walked into central Dakar and noticed straight away the huge quantity of cats that by now I wasn't used to seeing. It seemed that every dustbin was some sort of cat manufacturing plant, with a steady stream of felines tumbling over the top and onto the street. Of course they all come in the same spec, which is generally mangy, somewhat leathery with a kind of stringy appearance and of course fitted with an impressive yowel. (If you look hard you can find some fitted with special options like 3 legs or no tail, but I must stress this is a rare find)
After giving this some thought (clearly cabin fever was getting to me) the idea of shipping out the yowling moggies to the Americas in exchange for heaps of squashed dogs seemed a fine plan and would sort out that un-natural imbalance which seems to have occurred. Definitely an export West Africa should be proud of I think.
Anyway, after stepping over numerous heaps of leathered cats I decided Dakar has little to offer, which might be why I didn't bother going there last time! However in my truly energetic state of mind I managed to make it to the Island of Goree where the slaves were sent to the Americas back in the day. This I can honestly say was a trip well worth it. Amazing history and interesting architecture which was accentuated due to the dump that is Dakar right nest to it. To top it off it still has the cannons and gun emplacements from world war 2 in position. I even met some guy who slept inside the large bore cannon at the top of the Island. Great view out of the breech but maybe a tad claustrophobic I felt.
So I left Africa that night, but it was great to be back for a brief visit, and it also confirmed the fact that I would love to ride the beast down the East Coast as soon as the bank manager gives up on the idea of taking my knee caps in payment for this trip.
The week up to Hamburg was pretty dull really as the weather turned and the base tan soon fell off after all that hard work doing nothing the previous week. I must have watched about 40 DVDs a with slight concern that I was going to turn into Barry Norman protege (English Film Critic) if i watched anymore, it was with great relief that I arrived in Europe.
Finally on Friday the 1st of Feb I arrived in Tilbury by London. Great to be home but by god its cold. We sailed in to port in 80mph winds which was fun as I almost got blown off the deck, but of course with a few tins of salted fish my Swedish captain found the energy to steer us home in one piece.
Finally my bike cleared customs that morning without any duty to be paid (quite right too!) and I now find myself back in cold old England with the gripping excitement of spending the next 35 years in an office. (Next major landmark in my life: retirement) So times are good as I'm sure you can all imagine.
Anyone who wants some sensible info on the container home and getting foreign bikes into the UK, send me an e-mail and Ill try my hardest to send you a sensible reply. So thats it. I'm off to find a pension plan and a tedious after work hobby that costs nothing (train spotting seems to fit the requirement)
Keeping positive as always...
bye.
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