After walking around and around for more than half an hour I stopped a lady to ask her for directions back to ‘car-park A’ which I thought may have been the one and not ‘B’ and ‘C’ were I was at that moment. Well she was so good. She walked me all over the place. She listened to my pathetic clues as to what signs I had seen and what bank I had robbed – even tried for help from the information desk. Then on to the stairs and not the lift to the place I was so sure I had been before – but I hadn’t – because there Phe was just where I had left her. What a dopey old bugger I am and especially in this country where the language barrier that I so often blame for misfortune didn’t come into play. I am really only recounting this episode to remind myself just how nice some people are. This lady could not have done more – could not have been more helpful, and all to a total stranger (who shook her hand and kissed her cheek in gratitude when Phe was discovered – and with a scratchy beard last shaved, what, 30 odd hours ago). Anyway I appreciated her help and reckon and hope that her karma will see her through life. I was up and away from the Left Hand Drive Place just before midday heading for Dover with my good friends Karen, Compass and Phe. And it felt good, but I can’t help wondering what lies in store for us during the next four months. I am a little nervous especially when I think about the Arab countries in the Middle East although I did enjoy my time in Islamic Morocco last year. Even the thought of driving in Israel has the heart fluttering a bit, but I have had the same feelings of trepidation before and it has always come to nought. It is one of the tremendous advantages of driving a car through strange lands, because the changes to the landscape and even to people, the way they dress, the way they talk and the way they live is so very minuscule while driving that you hardly notice the progression – it is so gradual and slow. An aeroplane would be totally different, leaving say Australia or even from an airport in England, and then a few hours later walking through the glass doors out onto the street and into a car to start driving around Tel Aviv, say. I don’t think I could do it. Years ago, Barb and I flew from Perth in Australia’s west, directly to Johannesburg in South Africa. We arrived at around ten o’clock in the evening and I remember how uneasy I was. All we had to do was to get a taxi from the airport to the pre-booked hotel – simple – but Barb was holding on to me so tight and I was trying to appear calm and not nervous. It was hard! But as I said, by driving a car we tend to creep up on the changes so very slowly they just don’t seem to happen until eventually you look back and realise the extent of change. A very comfortable way to travel. Maybe it’s the little things that get you. It’s amazing how the mind adapts to driving a car with the steering wheel on the left but cannot cope with having the indicators worked by the left hand and the wipers worked by the right hand – exactly the opposite to my car in Australia. So many time we were going into a turn and instead of the indicators, the windscreen wipers came on! Drongoe! Just remember the indicators are nearest the door. I also reckon it solves a lot of problems by looking to the left first . Anyway we made Dover before three and the ferry wasn’t due to sail until a quarter past five so there was plenty of time to find an internet cafe and tell the kids that all was okay. And the hour and a half voyage from Dover to Boulogne offered the chance for forty winks here and there too. Boulogne was just as I had remembered it and the hostel was friendly and French.
Hear more about Graemes’ travels at http://robingrahamtravel.blogspot.com