England, and epilogue

The last leg of the journey and where we will go from here.

Transcript

Episode 16 – England and epilogue

Hey everybody, and welcome to the 16th episode of my podcast, Goin’ down the road with Randy. I am amazed that it has taken nearly twenty hours to tell this story and I am somewhat thankful that it is finally recorded. Chronologically this will be the last episode of my early travels. It is also probably the shortest episode as well. I still have a few stories to tell I think but this will wrap it up as far as my circumnavigation. I hope you have enjoyed listening to all the weirdness.

If you want to listen to these tales in chronological order get you a pen and paper. Go on, I’ll wait for you. >pause> O’ screw that, you can pause it. O.K, right. You start with episode 10, then 11, then 4, then back to 11, then 14, then 5, then 15, then 2, then 13, back to 2, then 1, then 12, then 6, then 3, then 7, then 8, then 9 and finish with this one, 16

I left you at the end of episode 9, we are leaving Nepal and flying to New Delhi, India. It is Thursday, April 16th 1992 We’re on Royal Nepali Airlines returning to Delhi it is, thankfully, not nearly as exciting as flying into Kathmandu. Little did we know however that we were about to enter into a travel odyssey with an uncertain outcome.

One small detail I am leaving out is that I mail almost an ounce of fine Nepali hashish back to the US from Kathmandu. I carefully roll it out into a thin sheet about the size of a postcard. Then I wrap it well in plastic and tape it between two postcards, put it into an envelope and I mail it to myself at the AMEX in Washington, D.C.

From Delhi we are booked on Air India for a flight to London. (We bought this really cheap one-way on Air India from Bangkok to Delhi with an indeterminate stopover in Delhi, then to London, with a stopover and then on to New York city.)

The Royal Nepal flight is uneventful and safely deposits us in Indira Ghandi International airport. We have only been here once before but we have grown to hate this airport. We collect our luggage and go hang out in the transit lounge and wait for our flight. It is due to depart to London the following morning so we have some time to kill.

We are hanging out in the transit lounge and make small talk with an English couple there, Dave and Karen.  Then it gets weird. It turns out that they are the ones who bought Dave and Heidi’s VW combi van back in Darwin last September - was it only that long ago?

I have to ask them how it went for them. Well, turns out it was not so good. The van caught fire in Tennant Creek due to an electrical short that caught the bedding on fire. Somehow they made it to Melbourne where they sold it to a dealer at a huge loss. It’s amazing that we randomly run into them in an airport lounge half a year later.

I have more questions, namely how the hell did they get a burned up van from Tennant Creek all the way to Melbourne? I feel like details of the fire might have been a bit overstated. But they have to leave to catch their flight to Moscow so I will never know.

We start playing Yachtzee and drinking our duty free rum with cokes from the snack bar. I’m pretty sure you are not allowed to drink your duty-free purchases in the transit lounge but we made it happen. Once you start there is no point in stopping because you can’t bring a half a bottle in so…

The airport is hopping. I think 2 a.m. might be their busiest time. We finally pop a couple of Valium and stretch out in lounge chairs to try to sleep. At 7 a.m. we are awakened by an Air India representative who checks us in. Yeah people, this was back in the good ol’ days when airlines took care of you.

We have an interminable wait to check the bags in and Greta gets pissed – and rightly so – because we miss breakfast. They have this strange procedure where even after we check the bags we have to go down and identify them again. It is a huge hassle with no discernable point other than for the sake of being a hassle, as with many things in southeast Asia.

Finally we board the Air India 747 and settle in. As we begin our final taxi, only slightly behind schedule, we are informed that there is a “small problem” and we must return to the gate.

Actually, we don’t even go to the gate. They tell us it will be at least a 4 hour delay and we deplane right onto the tarmac and then are bussed back to the airport. We soon learn that this is all a result of a bomb threat.

This is very unfortunate as we are absolutely wrecked from lack of sleep. Air India to the rescue. They take our passports and boarding passes and put us on a bus to the Centour Hotel in the airport where everyone gets a posh, comfortable room and lunch.

Lunch turns into dinner. We nap. We watch T.V. We shower but have no extra clothes to change into - a major traveling faux pas on our part. Always, always, always carry on a change of clothes and toiletries people!

Finally at 11 p.m. we go back to the airport to stand in another interminable long line to retrieve our passports and boarding cards. We finally board the plane and leave at about 4 a.m.

Saturday, April 18th is on the long flight from Delhi to London. We sleep, mostly and get into Heathrow at about 8:30 am. We breeze through customs somehow managing to be amongst the first from our flight. Paul and Janet have said they were picking us up but we don’t see them right away. Not to fear they find us as we are changing money.

My journal notes that “it is nice to be in a normal country again.” It further states that it is “the little things that you miss”. I am not sure what those words really mean. It might be that we are in an English-speaking country that follows norms that we are accustomed to. It might be that we flew in from a long, bomb-threat-delayed flight and friends were there to meet us.

And I think that is what I meant. Paul and Janet take us into their home in St. Albans, a suburb in northern London. It is almost funny how well we all get on and how good it is to see them again. We don’t feel like doing much. A little tour of St. Albans in the afternoon, a nap, and then out to an Indian restaurant of all things.

We have numerous pints in the restaurant and more in the pub until it closes at 10:30. We are forced back to Paul and Janet’s house where we play Yahtzee and drink even more before passing out.

We get up late the next morning and Paul and Janet drive us into London to meet Mary, from the Gran Café, in Bondi Beach. We meet her at the Dome Restaurant where she is currently working and make plans for tomorrow night and Tuesday. Then the four of us go visit the Tower of London and the Crown Jewels – not my first time seeing either one by the way. I had spent many months in England with my family back in the 70’s.

We’re still a little tired so we go back to St. Albans and cook pizza and hang out and play games like the old days. We don’t party for too long though before we are all drawn to bed.

The next morning we think about going to Greenwich but our motivation level is quite low and the idea doesn’t blossom into action. Paul takes us to visit his parents, a great couple who make us feel like old friends.

Then we are off into London to find The Seashell, Lady Di’s favorite fish and chip shop. No Google in those days people, you have to physically search for these places. It is supposed to be in Swiss Cottage but it is not and our search is fruitless. 

Instead we eat masses of ribs at Chicago Meat Packers and then wander around Covent Garden before meeting Mary at 6:30 and going to see “Death and the Maiden” at the Duke of York’s Theater in the West End.

The play is short, very well-acted and extremely disturbing. Afterwards, we go out for a Samuel Smith’s on tap. Then Paul and Janet take us to get mass quantities of beer and drop us off at Mary’s apartment, which is above The Dome restaurant where she works in Hempstead and best of all – it is free!. Not a bad perk but, then again, can’t call in sick unless you really are so, that’s a bit of a disadvantage.

We start playing a drinking game called three man. Basically you roll a pair of dice until someone rolls a three or a 1-2 combination. That person becomes the three man and will remain until they roll a three or 1-2 combo and then they can designate the next three man. If someone rolls a three the three man drinks. If someone rolls a 5 they have to drink, if they roll a 7 the player to their left drinks (if the 7 is a 3 and a 4 the three man must also drink), if the roll is a 9 everyone drinks, if they roll an 11 the player to the right drinks. We get pretty shitfaced playing this game and we only stop because we run out of beer – and we started with a lot of beer. We pass out at like 5 a.m.

Tuesday, April 21st  1992 and we three are experiencing the largest hangovers ever recorded in British history and trust me, that is saying something. Amazingly we are up by noon. We take the tube to Baker Street where we finally find The Seashell and find that it is closed! Damn! Well, we satisfy our fish and chips craving elsewhere and then go to Madame Tussaud’s and then the planetarium.

We rush over to Hamley’s – the finest toy shop in the world – and get in just before they close. I pick up a London Monopoly game. We end up with Mary treating us to a delicious dinner at The Harvester restaurant in Golders Green. And that is about it for us today we go back and crash at Mary’s place – no three man shenanigans this time though.

We’re up early and go out to Ruislip to pick up Mary’s car and then we drive to St. Albans where we meet Phil and Karen, who have driven up from Bristol. None of these people have met each other before. Chronologically, we met Mary at Gran Café in Bondi, we met Paul and Janet getting dive certified at Airlie Beach and Phil and Karen we traveled with all through Indonesia and Thailand. But these folks have never met each other until we brought them together. I’m not saying it was a huge kumbaya experience, but we thought it was kinda cool.

We all hang out looking at photos and videos, talking, drinking and making a big ol’ Spag Bolognese. We catch up on old times and trade travel experiences from Viet Nam – where we kinda split with Phil and Karen – and Nepal. It is a blast re-connecting and reliving our travels and that’s when it hits me that ours are nearly over now. We play a few games of Pictionary and before we know it it is 4 in the morning and Phil and Karen have to drive back to Wales and poor Paul and Janet have to work. 

Our visit has thrown a monkey wrench into their daily routines. This is because traveling has no routine. Every day starts differently and usually in a new place. Some people hate it, some love it.

The next morning, we wake and shower and thank Paul and Janet for their incredible  hospitality and Mary takes us to Heathrow. Unfortunately, Mary does not actually know the way to Heathrow so we take the scenic route but she gets us there with plenty of time to spare. We say our “So longs” because it is not “Good-bye”

Our flight is – I know, who would’ve guessed – slightly delayed. Air India gives us a six pound 50 voucher for food while we wait. Say what you will about Asian airlines but in my mind they are without parallel. Air India came though every time we needed them.

Finally it is time to go and before we know it we are on our final leg into JFK where Greta’s dad is due to pick us up. We land and go through Customs. Their questions don’t make sense. It is weird being back in my own home country and having culture shock.

My travel journal abruptly stops here. I guess I thought that since I was back home, I was done traveling. As we all know, nothing could be further from the truth. The road is perpetual and infinite. Travel is life and life is travel. They are perfect metaphors for each other.

We end up hanging out in Annapolis, Maryland at Greta’s dad’s summer place. We stay there over the winter. With some trepidation I go into the AMEX office in Washington, DC and pick up a fat envelope from Nepal with no problems whatsoever. The content helps make the fall and winter go by. I got a job at the Holiday Inn as a daytime food and beverage manager.

Greta and her sister make plans for a Balinese silver jewelry empire. I have over ten thousand dollars in credit card debt to take care of. I have lived off of cash advances for a while now. I have to ask myself, “Self! Was it worth it?” The answer, invariably is, “Hell yeah it was!”

Her dad’s place is right on the water opposite the Naval Academy and it is absolutely gorgeous. I have the use of a 19 foot runabout and use it fishing for rockfish on the Bay. We meet up with Craig and Sue, whom we last saw in Thailand, and who have endured a cross country train trip on Amtrak, foolishly thinking that the American passenger rail system is something more than the shitshow that it really is.

My buddy AJ, you remember AJ from the Bali episode, and Viet Nam, right? Well, AJ is now in Taiwan, teaching English and bragging about how much money he is making. I make plans to go to Taiwan for a year to make a pile of money and pay off this debt. It seems like Greta and I have drifted apart and we are each on our own road now.

I buy a computer, paying like a thousand dollars, and write an article for the Sunday edition, travel section, of the Baltimore Sun about Viet Nam which at the time was hot and sexy in the travel world.

They accept it and I get front page of the travel section with pictures and it is the first piece of writing I have ever been paid good money for.

I buy a China Air ticket online. Sounds normal but remember this is 1992. They FedEx me an actual paper plane ticket! I leave for Taiwan in January of 1993 after staying about 7 months “back home.” In Taiwan I pay off my credit card debt within a year and end up staying in Taiwan for another 6 years after that. In Taiwan I meet the love of my life. But those are other stories. And I will tell them too.

Oh, one last thing before I go. I often get told how lucky I am to have had these travel experiences. I get the sentiment. I am fortunate for the opportunity is what they really mean, I think

It pushes my buttons a bit when people say, “That’s so cool, you are so lucky.” I’m here to tell you in no uncertain terms that while I believe I cultivated as much good karma as I could and had some amazing times and serendipities, I don’t consider myself lucky. I worked hard for the opportunity to do what I did. OK, I’m a white dude and I was born that way, so maybe a bit of luck there. 

What I mean is that no one handed me a pile of cash and told me to go for it. I studied and saved and traveled and worked and saved and suffered, because believe me, traveling the way we did it was often a sufferfest. Lucky, perhaps to have had the luxury of taking the opportunity and thankful for that but not lucky like “pot o’ gold at the end of a rainbow” lucky…at least not yet.

So, grrrrrrr, don’t tell me how lucky I was. 

Because the implication is that “If I were only as lucky as you, I too, could travel the world.” Oh, but you can, you can. It is not easy and sacrifices will need to be made and luck, luck will have little or nothing to do with it, thank you very much. Karma maybe, I believe in that more than luck.

Which is not to say that people have not helped us along the way. Family was there for us in a strong way and we are always fortunate to have that to rely on.

And thus we have arrived at the end of this particular travel story of a circumnavigation. A bit clunky maybe at the end but, ah well, clunky is my middle name and Taiwan is yet another episode with an even more unreliable narrator. It may take me a while to get my narrative together but I promise you the podcast will continue. However this is where we will leave it tonight and where I will find you again, next time, somewhere down the road. Thank you for listening, be kind to one another.