Hajjah - finding my way around

1 October 1972 (still)

Later on the day I arrived I was taken to the palace where I met the director of education and one of two doctors in Hajjah - he was trained in West Germany for two years, until relations were broken, and then in East Germany.  Later I was taken to my room at the top of the palace - it's a small room with a separate toilet room off a small hallway, and a walled veranda sort of thing round three sides.  Later on the electricity in the palace was turned on - especially for me, so they said - and during the evening I played chess with the doctor (he won).  Earlier on I met a teacher called Azzadin who I had met in Sanaa and the British Council director, Richard Jarvis, had told to look after me. We went out and had dinner at a local restaurant (of sorts).

In the evening the electricity failed twice about 10pm and then went off altogether having borrowed a torch from the German-trained doctor.  That was last night.

This morning one of the servants at the palace brought me some breakfast at about 7am.  I have no idea who is paying for this food, but I dare say I shall find out in the next week or so.  Then I went downstairs to a sort of general meeting room in the palace.  Hamud was there, and then a number of us went to see the governor's representative in another part of the palace.  There I met a man who had spent a year in Small Heath in Birmingham.  Then I met someone else about my age, called Ismail, who took me to see the school which is rather rough and ready, and then the Education Office which is in an old building on another hill in the town.  Then we went to see the hospital again, where the German-speaking doctor explained that they were rebuilding the hospital because it had all been destroyed in the civil war.

It seems that Hajjah was in the thick of the fighting for most of the time the war was going on but I haven't worked out yet whether it was a republican stronghold surrounded by royalists or the other way round.  They have only really started rebuilding in the last year, although the war ended 2 or 3 years ago.  Then Ismail and a friend of his and I went to see coffee trees in one of the wadis below Hajjah.  Most of the agriculture in Hajjah is millet or qat - less coffee now because qat pays better.  Then we went to Ismail's uncle's house where we had coffee, smoked a hubbly bubbly (called a madaah here) and ate toasted millet and some sort of beans.

When we got back to the palace I found that my trunk hadn't made its way from Hamud's house yet, so Ismail went off to see what had happened to it.  Shortly afterwards several people arrived pushing and shoving it up the stairs, so I was able to unpack some of the things I had bought in Sanaa.

A bit later, about 1.30, Azzidin came to say hello again.  He is rather hard work and his English is not too hot, although he has been studying it in Sanaa and is supposed to be able to teach it. Unfortunately he doesn't understand the local Arabic dialect well either, as he is from the south somewhere where the dialect is quite different.  In the afternoon Ismail came to take me to his house on the back side of the hill facing the town called Naaman.There we chewed qat with a whole group of friends, smoked a hubble bubble and (ahem) drank some whisky afterwards. 

Naaman hill facing Hajjah town. The Education Department is the large building on the right hand side.

When I got back to the palace at about 8pm there was a kerosene lamp for my room which hadn't been there the night before, when the electricity went off, so I had supper and sat down to write this letter, then probably I shall go to sleep.

Hajjah - getting there part 2

1 October 1972 - later

The second part of the journey here.

On Friday (29th) I didn't do much in the morning, and Hamud asked if I would like to see some of the town.  I thought that might be nice, and so he told the guard who was with us to give me a quick tour on foot.  The guard set off at enormous speed so that I was mainly rushing to keep up rather than sightseeing.


We were supposed to continue our journey to Hajjah at 4pm, but the car - another Toyota Landcruiser - didn't show up till nearly 5.  We stopped by at someone who I think is the governor's representative in Hodeida and gave him my baggage tickets in case my luggage turns up, so that he can send it on to me in Hajjah.

We set off northwards from Hodeida along a pretty good tarmacked road, making me wonder if the road system in Yemen was quite as undeveloped as Professor S had suggested.  But after a short distance we came to a roadblock on the road.  Straight ahead, along the nicely surfaced roadway, was  the port, I was told.  We weren't going that way.  Our route meant leaving the nice smooth way and turning on to a sort of track in the scrubby desert beside the road which, the guard said, was the way to Hajjah.  The first part of the journey was interesting - the villages on the coastal plain (called the Tihamah) are all grass huts, and the people are very black.  We stopped at one grass hut village for tea, and later, at another, for supper.

The journey was eventful - we were travelling now in a convoy with a GMC pick-up truck loaded with people and goods and at one point our Toyota seesawed as it was going over an agricultural embankment and got caught on its transmission shaft.  This is because the road isn't very distinct, and is about half a mile wide in some places and we were following the tracks of a lorry which obviously had been able to get over this packed earth embankment.  We all got out and some of the people scraped away the earth from under the car until the wheels were able to grip again - encountering a scorpions' nest in the process, whcih slowed things down for a short while.  Further along, the road got wetter and wetter and we had to manoeuvre around enormous muddy puddles.  At this pint we were ahead and we noticed that the GMC had come to a halt.  We drove back to discover it bogged up to its back axles in one of the puddles.

People worked away to free it for about half an hour (joined by travellers in other cars coming along the road to and from Hodeida) until someone decided I must be getting tired (I was) and took me to a nearby village about three quarters of a mile away and ordered tea and a bed for me.  The tea shops in the grass villages had a kind of beds made of wood and cord where people can sit or sleep in the open.  After another half an hour the cars turned up along with the GMC and after a short rest we set off on our way.

At the tea stop earlier I had borrowed someone's radio, and had tuned in to the BBC.  They had said that fighting had broken out between northern Yemen and southern Yemen, and I reported this in my Arabic, which isn't very good yet, to the others in our party.  They assumed that I had misheard or mistranslated, and told me that wasn't the case.  But at the supper stop they listened to one of the Arabic channels and heard the same news and admitted that I had been right.

From here the road was really rough, and I was half asleep, but constantly woken up by jolts and bumps.  At some stage we drove along a rocky river bed for a short distance with water running alongside us.  Then at 2 or 3am we started to climb into the mountains.  We finally arrived here at about 6am.  Thankfully I was set down, with the trunk, at Hamud's house and I fell into a deep sleep until early afternoon when I awoke and was brought something to eat - Yemeni lunch.  Tasty!

Before I set off for Lebanon and Yemen my brother, Dugald, gave me a set of Arab League booklets which he had got from somewhere.  I have the one of Yemen with meand there's a picture in it of Hajjah where I now am, and it shows the former Imam's palace which is apparently where I am going to be put up until they find somewhere else for me to stay!

Hajjah! - Part 1, getting there.

Hajjah, Sunday 1st October 1972

Part 1 - getting there: down to Hodeida

Well, I got here at last!  Khalid, the Minister of Education's son came round at 1.30 on 27th and told me that the Minister wanted to see me now! so I went along to his house (near where I was staing with the Boyds, near Zubairi Street which turns into the Hodeida road.  After a cup of coffee with the Minister Khalid hailed a taxi and we went by the Boyds' house to pick up my brightly painted metal trunk and took it round to the governor of Hajjah's house, also not far away.  I'd got some blankets and other essentials, like a teapot, to equip myself for the western highlands.  The governor is called Mujahid Abu Shawarib - the Abu Shawarib bit means "father of whiskers", but it is a family name.

The governor and I and a couple of soldiers and one or two others left Sanaa at about 3 pm in a Toyota equivalent of a Range Rover.  The soldiers sat in the back with my trunk between them - it was rather larger and harder than they were expecting, and I think they found it pretty uncomfortable.  We swept off on the road to Hodeida.  The temperature rose and rose as we descended to Hodeida.  I think I had already forgotten how hot it had been when I arrived earlier in the month.

We arrived in Hodeida after dark, about 7.30pm and went to a rather basic hotel, the Red Sea Hotel I think, which was apparently the best in town.  Rather oddly we had a shared room - the governor, me and an official from Hajjah called Hamud Siraj, with lots of gold teeth.

On Thursday (28th) we had an early start and set off after breakfast in our convoy in the direction of the airport.  I hadn't a clue what was going on at first - there were enormous crowds there, and wild confusion.  A military officer was telling his men to stand on one side of the road to the runway and then on the other and pushing the crowds this way and that.  Finally a plane landed and the crowd-pulling event turned out to be the arrival of the President of Yemen!  He came out of the plane and shook hands with everybody in the first 30 yards of the crowd lining the road to the airport building, including me.  The governor kindly took a moment to ask the airport customs about my missing luggage, but to no avail.

After that we raced out of Hodeida in the middle of a convoy headed by an armed truck with an anti-aircraft gun for about an hour, again with me having no idea what was in store until it turned out that we were going to a place called Bajil about 20 miles back along the road towards Sanaa, where the Prime Minister was going to open a cement factory built by the Russians.  We sat in the guests stand and listened to a number of speeches before being given a short tour round the factory.  After that, the governor and I went with our retinue to a rest house built by the Germans where we had lunch and a rest for a couple of hours.

Next we went to the Republican Palace in Hodeida, which is actually very nice.  Then, later in the afternoon, the governor told me that he had to go back to Sanaa for two days, but that I would go on to Hajjah with the rest of the party. Somewhat surprisingly, since I had been told I might not be paid promptly (and possibly not at all) the governor gave me 100 riyals (about £8.50) for anything I might need - that's a third of a month's salary up front!

In the evening a person called Dirham who works at the hotel and had studied for the GCE in Aden invited me to go along to see an Indian film.  The film was pretty tedious with Arabic and disastrous English subtitles but an interesting experience.

Once again we were a threesome in the room at the hotel, the governor's place being taken by a guard.

Revolution Day in Sanaa, 1972

Wednesday 27 September, 1972

I was told the Sunday before last that I would be heading off to Hajjah last weekend with the Governor, so I bought some supplies - some blankets (Chinese cotton-waste blankets - cheap and very warm), a towel, a thermos, a water filter (which I made out of a self sterilising filter candle in a plastic bucket - much cheaper than a commercial filter), sheets, a flag, tea, milk (dried), some basic dishes etc etc.  Also bought a shirt since the one I was wearing kept on getting dirty too quickly.
I took a bit of time to see what stamps were available, as my Dad collects them.  I found that they print much larger numbers than needed, but don't withdraw the old ones, so that it was possible to find stamps commemorating the first and ninth anniversaries of the Revolution, even though we were just about to have the tenth (yesterday).

A week ago, Richard Jarvis took me round to the Ministry of Education to find out if I would be going up to Hajjah that day, and to ask about my residence permit.  No news of either the Governor or the residence permit.  Later that same day I went to see Qadi Ismail the director of Monuments and Libraries.  Prof Serjeant had given me a letter of introduction to him.  The person who took me to see him was Mohammed al-Shami, the director of the university, who I bumped into.  On the same mission I also met up with  Dr Costa, a charming Italian who runs the museum.  Actually I had already given him his letter of introduction from the Prof when we went to the museum a few days previously.  Mohammed al-Shami also took me to see if the Governor of Hajjah had arrived in Sanaa, but he hadn't.

I also visited a missionary called Peter Dahlen of the Red Sea Mission - he is arranging for some nurses to be sent to Hajjah to open a clinic there, though he will not be living there himself.

In my last letter I mentioned that news of the Munich attack was just filtering through.  It wasn't mentioned in the official press until 23 September, and didn't even mention Germany.  Yemen has to be very careful about what it says, particularly as it is receiving aid simultaneously from the US, Red China, East and West Germany, Britain, and others besides.  Apparently Yemen is rated by the UN as the 2nd least developed nation in the world - mainly on the basis of its administration, which isn't in control of more than half the country, and has no machinery for collecting taxes from resistant areas.

Yesterday was the tenth anniversary of the Revolution.

We had some power cuts in the run up to the Revolution anniversary - mainly, I think, because the illuminations for the 26th take up so much electricity that there is not enough to go round. I got up early and went out at about 7.45 to see the parades.  It was a bit of a struggle to make my way through the crowds to Tahrir Square ("Liberation Square") but I eventually found a good place to look from, helped by the fact that I am quite a bit taller than Yemenis and could see over their heads.  People around me were muttering "tawil, tawil" (tall, tall) and "tashuf tayyib" (you can see well), etc.  I was able to see the parade of soldiers (quite smart, in fact) followed by lorries and tanks etc.  A biplane flew over and dropped sweets on to the crowds.

For some reason I had not received an invitation for the celebrity stand where the diplomats etc were sitting, as were the foreign volunteers, so I went over and joined them after the crowds had started to disperse.  It was rather fun watching from inside the crowd, though, particularly as I didn't have any trouble seeing what was going on.

-----

On housekeeping matters, Cooks sent me a telegram telling me I could collect £50 refund for the missing travellers cheques in my luggage from the Yemen Bank for Reconstruction and Development but the bank said they knew nothing about it and wouldn't pay up.  However, a couple of days later the authorisation came through and I was finally able to collect my money.

While I was trying to track down my luggage (still) I tried to phone Aeroflot in Hodeidah a couple of Fridays ago to see if I could get the paperwork I would need for my insurance claim - only to find that there are no phone lines to Hodeidah open on Fridays.

I have to finish in haste as I have just learned that we are setting off for Hajjah today - more in my next one.  And I'll try to add a picture or two of the Revolution Day parade when I can.

Sanaa - still no luggage. Finding my way around.

Sanaa, Thursday 14 September 1972

On Saturday I went round to Yemen Airways to see if there was any news of my luggage.  There wasn't, but I arranged that when it turns up in Hodeidah Yemen Airways will bring it up to Sanaa.  It will cost a couple of pounds probably. 

I tried to buy some sheets of stamps for my father (avid stamp collector) at the post office, but they don't like selling them by the sheet, as they can sell sheets of stamps on the international market at a lot over face value - the highest denomination is 18 buqshas, which is just over 2 new pence, so a sheet wouldn't cost too much if they could be persuaded to sell it.

I went for a walk in the suq in the old town and some friendly Yemenis bought me a soft drink - they were really kind.  In the afternoon I thought that Mr Baldry was going to take me to see the museum, but it turned out later that the visit had been postponed till Monday.  Instead I spent the afternoon at a qat party given by the Boyds' servant, who was celebrating his birthday.

On Monday the term started at the International School, and I left the Boyds in a state of (semi-)organised chaos at 8.45 to go to the orientation course that was being run for the VSO volunteers.  In the afternoon there was a colloquial Arabic lesson given by a dynamic French priest cum engineer who apparently runs the power station.  He is called Pere Etienne Renaud.  Afterwards we were taken on a tour of the ethnographical section of the National Museum which has been set up (ie the ethnographical bit) by a French lady doctor called Madame Fayenne.

On Tuesday I went to the Yamaha dealership to enquire about buying a motorcycle to get around on.  Theoretically, as a foreigner,  I should be able to get one tax-free which would be about 1800 riyals instead of 2400, but apparently the governor of Hodeidah isn't quite under Sanaa's control and won't let any motorbikes out of Hodeidah without charging tax, even if the Sanaa authorities have signed a permit for it to be imported tax-free.

In the evening the VSO volunteers and I were invited round to drinks with the Ambassador.  He was very nice, and promised to make sure that I get looked after well in Hajjah.  I'd thought of seeing if there were any VSO vacancies in Sanaa, but I've given up on that idea, and discovered that people who know Hajjah are very envious that I am going to be there.  In the evening I went round to see Mr Jarvis, but he had just heard that theere was an English language film being shown that evening at the UN house (Viva Zapata, as it turned out)  and I went along to that.

Still no news about my luggage - I suppose it must still be in Cairo airport somewhere.  Clothes are rather difficult to get hold of here - especially as I am quite tall compared to Yemenis. 

News is filtering through here about the attack in Munich.  Most of the Yemenis population haven't heard about it, it seems - others think that it might make a profound impact on the Palestinian issue, but that West Germany was not the place to do it.

First days in Sanaa

Thursday 7 September 1972

When I met Mr Bird, who is one of the British Council team here, he took me around to meet a few people, but one of them wasn't in.  He is called John Baldry and he lives in a house in the old city.  Prof Serjeant and others think he is rather funny because he chooses to live in the suq, but Mr Bird brought him round to see me at Mr Jarvis's house yesterday and I have formed a completely different impression.  He has been teaching all over the Middle East for over 10 years now, and has been in Yemen for 10 months.  He is one of the two British Council people here who actually travels around the country and meets people.  Mr Jarvis does too, but to a lesser extent.  He (Baldry) has visited Hajjah quite recently and will be able to give me a lot of solid information before I go.  Apparently the water in Hajjah has bilharzia in it.

This is from the roof of the house I am staying in

Yesterday afternoon he took me to a qat chewing party - there were about 10 people there, including the director of Sanaa university and one or two high-up members of the government, who all promised to help me in every possible way.  Two of them were called Mohammed al-Shami which was confusing. We sat and chewed qat for about four hours (you have to chew it for at least that long to get any effect) until about 7 pm and then, because you get depressed when you start "coming down" they produced three bottles of smuggled Scotch whisky, then had something to eat.  All the time we had a most interesting discussion with one of the government ministers, about Yemen and its political and economic situation, and plans for its development.

The back of the British Embassy

Qat is a leaf which you chew and keep in the side of your mouth and just chew and chew more.  It is simultaneously stimulating and relaxing (so they say-I also found it slightly nauseating after 4 hours - and it turns your teeth green).  They told me about 10 pm that it also keeps you awake - quite right, as it turned out.  So today I woke with one of the best hangovers I have had in a long time. 

Abdul Mughni Street in Sanaa

Today I went to the Embassy to see if there was any post, but there wasn't, then John Baldry came and took me along to see some other minister (not sure which) but unfortunately he did not turn up as he was busy.  Afterwards we went to the passport office for me to register, but it was shut and doesn't open until Saturday.  While I was at the Embassy reading a seriously out of date Observer, Mr Bird (Norman Bird) came by and told me that Mr Jarvis (he is Richard) has sent a note saying that I was to stay with an American couple who teach at the new international school here.  They are called Mark and Jill Boyd, and after lunch I went round to their house with my luggage (such as it is- no news about the suitcases yet).  They have some rooms in the building that is being used for the International School which has been set up by an American called Jim Gilson.  It is very close to the British Embassy, and in the afternoon I walked around the centre of Sanaa.

Tomorrow I understand that the proper VSO volunteers are arriving, so I'm hoping that my luggage arrives with them.

I have arrived in Sanaa

Sanaa - Tuesday 5 September, 1972

I have arrived in Sanaa!  Unfortunately my luggage hasn't - it was checked through from Beirut to Hodeidah, but it seems it wasn't transferred at Cairo.  The Aeroflot flight wasn't great but we had a pretty nice steak for breakfast on the flight, served by an air hostess who has probably only recently transferred from tree-felling or the construction industry.  It was grey and cloudy as we landed, and the cabin filled with steam from the vents.  When they opened the door of the plane I realised why - it was already incredibly warm and so humid it was like being in a warm bath.

Here is my entry stamp. I have to register somewhere in three days.

At the airport one of the other people was also going to Sanaa, and we went into "town" (it doesn't look like much) and then we got a service taxi from Hodeidah to Sanaa.  That cost 12 riyals (£1, more or less).  One of the people in the taxi was the head (I think) of the passport department in Sanaa who had come in on the same flight and also lost his luggage. The taxi ride took six hours because we kept on stopping for soup and meat every 40 minutes or so.

The road from Hodeidah to Sanaa is phenomenal.  It must be one of the best drives in the world.  The road is good - built by the Chinese.  The first bit out of Hodeidah is a long straight stretch, but then you go through a couple of low hills which they call the "Door of the mountains" and then the road winds up and down pretty much all the way to Sanaa.

When we got to Sanaa, the passport-office man told the taxi to stop near the British Embassy which is in a side street near the main road.  I was glad to see the British flag flying over it, so it was easy to find.  Prof S had said to contact someone at the Embassy called Ernest Noble, who took me round to the home of Richard Jarvis of the British Council.  He has arranged that I could stay at his house for a few days.  He is away in Taizz, another town to the south, but his servant is looking after me very well.  After dinner he took be round to see a Mr Bird, who gave me an idea of who the local British Council people are.  He said that over the next few weeks there will be a course for VSO volunteers which might be be useful or interesting.

The rest of the camp. Beirut. Final briefing

Beirut, 2 September 1972 (Saturday)

Tuesday 22 August - we dug another trench for a pipe and then collected some stones.  After that we sat and threw water at each other, then in the afternoon about 8 of us went round the village to look at people's wounds.  Lots of people have infected cuts and scratches - there was plenty to do.  In the evening a rather dull folklore presentation by a Lebanese group.  Would have slept soundly except that there was a major commotion at about 4 am.  Turned out that someone in another tent had had a nightmare and screamed so loudly that the camp leader had rushed down from the house he was staying in about 100 yards away.  The person who had the nightmare didn't remember a thing. Spent the following morning collecting stones.

Thursday 24th - starting to get the hang of the local Arabic. Have found "Voice of the Arabs" broadcasting from Cairo which has Arabic closer to what I am learning in Cambridge. Later, discussion about Palestine.  Some representatives from the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine talked to us - separate groups for English, french and Arabic speakers.  I'd met one of them at Rafid camp last year.  He is the director of the PFLP newspaper, al-Hadaf.

Saturday - The brother of one of the camp organisers works at Lebanon's most important hydro-electric power station and gave us a tour of the power station, followed by an enormous lunch. We didn't get back to the camp till late.

On Sunday I travelled back to Beirut with the Czech motor workers who were leaving so that I could sort out my visa for Yemen and the Aeroflot ticket.  Failing to find the Yemeni Embassy on Sunday, I finally made it on Monday morning, had all the forms filled in by 10 am - and then had to wait for two hours for the consul to arrive.  But at last - here it is:

Thank you, thank you, Mr Murshid.

Less luck confirming my flight to Yemen from Cairo.  Aeroflot say they have to check with Moscow. So I head back to the camp with the mail for my fellow campers which I picked up from the Social Development Office.  I had to get a bus to Sidon, another bus on to Tyre, and then a service taxi to Maarakeh.  The evening's entertainment was supposed to be by a guitar and flute duet, but the guitarist was hurt in a car accident on the way, so the evening collapsed.

On Thursday I managed to go into Tyre and contact the Aeroflot office by phone. My booking is confirmed! Got back to camp and helped with the village clean-up that was under way, then found that someone had apple-pied my bed and taken my other shoes.  I found the shoes but they had been filled with jam.  Very funny ha ha. In the evening we had to dress up for a camp-fire get together. I put on my plastic mac, with a towel round my shoulders, cotton wool in my ears and carried a bucket of water because the French and Lebanese here always make a phenomenal noise and throw water at each other at mealtimes.

Yesterday (Friday) we packed up most of the camp and were brought back to Beirut, to the King's Hotel this morning.  The hotel was expecting us this time.  There was a letter from Prof Serjeant saying he was in town, and to meet him at the St George Club.  We chatted for about 3 hours with some very nice beers. His wife, Marion was with him.  I am to go to a place called Hajjah, north west of Sanaa, and he gave me a lot of advice (including "Don't insult anyone by calling them any sort of animal name" and "Make sure not to use any insult referring to a person's mother").  I gave him £17 for some Yemeni money that he had, and Mrs S gave me some spare pills for malaria and stomach upsets.  He advised me to have some English books sent out, so I shall make a list - apparently reading matter is a bit hard to come by.  He says I'll probably be in Sanaa for about three weeks (though I don't know where) till the beginning of October when the term starts.  I think this will be my last post before I get there - assuming I do.  Look out for my next one.

On the way - Maarakeh, Lebanon, 21 August 1972

Maarakeh, Lebanon.  21 August 1972

Arrived in Beirut last Monday (14th) OK.  Someone had telexed through to say I should be met at the airport (no idea who) and they took me to the Kings Hotel, as per the instructions from the Office of Social Development.  Only the hotel was full, and they weren't expecting me.  I decided to go to the American Community School where I stayed last year and see if there was a room there, which there was.

Tuesday, went to the OSD to sort things out.  Picked up my things from the ACS, and was taken to a rather grotty hotel some way along the coast.  Had a swim and wrote to Prof Serjeant in Yemen, and to Aeroflot in Beirut to confirm the flight reservation.  Still have to sort out my visa.

Wednesday - we were bussed off to the camp, which is near Tyre.  More organisational issues: no food or water.  However that was sorted out, and so we put up our camp beds and dug a latrine pit and basically sat around until the power cut, which was rather nice because we sat outside and chatted by moonlight.  The campers are a mix - about half of them Lebanese from various parts of the country, the rest are from different countries.  Most are student sort of age like me though there are a couple of older guys from the Tatra factory in Czechoslovakia.


Thursday - drew the short straw and was part of the housekeeping team in the camp for the day while everyone else went off and visited local houses.  Housekeeping is things like washing dishes, making sure that the toilet trench isn't too stinky, and preparing vegetables.

Friday - we dug a trench across a road for a pipe in the morning,then went down to Tyre and had a swim.  In the evening there was a presentation of European music by a group consisting of a Frenchman, a Lebanese pop singer and the singer's girlfriend.  It all started rather late because there was another power cut.

Saturday - another trench followed by another swim.  I do hope that Yemen is a bit cooler than here.  We are about 6 miles from the sea and only about 1000 feet up, so it is pretty hot.  I took a couple of pictures today, and amused people in the evening with a bit of music played on my bicycle pump.  I have adorned it with transfers handed out by the Czechoslovakian men.

Sunday - an outing to Tyre and Sidon.  Now I can identify the pictures I took last year.  Tyre was the place with the rather unimpressive Roman ruins.  Sidon is the pretty little castle in the water.  In the evening we had dinner at Djezzine which has a very high waterfall, and is apparently famous for its cutlery.

I'm not using my (little) Arabic much here - most of the conversation is in French, though the Czechs and two of the English girls only speak English, which slows things down.  Another English girl is studying Arabic and Hebrew at Leeds and is having the same trouble converting classical Arabic into conversation as I have.  Discovered that all the intelligible Arabic radio stations here are Israeli.  The Lebanese campers got a bit agitated when I tuned into an Arabic speaking station which they said was in Israel.  The Lebanese radio signal doesn't seem to get this far south.

As I am flying off to Yemen on 4th, I will miss some of the free tourism at the end of the camp, but I am keen to meet up with Prof Serjeant when he passes through Beirut on his way back from Sanaa.  I haven't got confirmation of the Cairo-Hodeidah leg yet.

A year in Yemen - Chartres, France: news from Prof Serjeant

Chartres, France.  July 1972

It's been a horrendously long day - had to cycle through two towns because their Youth Hostels were full, but thankfully the hostel here in Chartres (run, it seems, by a British couple) has a space for me.  I think it has been 80 miles since I set off from somewhere down the Loire.  Maybe from Blois via Chateaudun, but I couldn't swear to it, not being able to put my hand on my notes.  The bike is holding up well.  Quite often a passing Brit motorist will hoot when they see the GB sticker on the back.  Although it originally had drop handlebars, I'm glad that I was able to acquire some upright ones from a long-abandoned bike in the college bike racks.  It means I can sit up and enjoy the view when the going is easy. But it wasn't today...

Bike rest somewhere along the way

The bigger joy was that there was actually a letter waiting for me at the hostel. Professor Serjeant has arranged with the Minister of Education in Yemen for a couple of us to go there to teach English at schools in regional capitals, Hajjah and Zabid.  He says in the letter that the pay will be about 300 riyals a month - £20 or so - but accommodation will be provided and it will be an excellent opportunity to turn my classical Arabic into something that real Arabs can understand.  With luck, I'll be able to understand them too.

I've already applied to go on my second work camp organised by the Ministry of Social Affairs (or some such) in Lebanon, so my plan is now to hot-foot it (or hot-pedal it) back to the coast, and pack for Lebanon and Yemen.  I should be able to afford the air ticket - Mum is still working at Exchange Travel in Birmingham and is a bit of a wizard when it comes to working these things out.  I'm not even sure how you get to Yemen, or if the northern bit (where I will be going) has airports.  Come to that, I'm not all that certain that I know where Yemen is in relation to the rest of the Arab world.  I've only been to Egypt, a couple of years ago and last year when I got jaundice and missed the first three weeks of al-Bukhala, and Lebanon for their international work camp last year.  Well I can look it up when I get back home.  However, I do plan to spend a day or two here to catch my breath and take a look at the cathedral, which I believe is quite grand.