RUSSIAN TRIP BY BAUBIE AND GRAHAM RICHARDS AUGUST 2003

Here is an account of their August 2003 trip to Russia by Baubie & Graham Richards 

 Dear All, 

Well it was as wonderful as I had hoped and many of my preconceived ideas were shot down in flames very quickly. We arrived exhausted and both as ill as anything but were determined not to waste a minute and didn't in spite of feeling so grim. As the week progressed we felt better but both of us coughed and blew our noses into oblivion the whole trip..... The weather was kind to us. It was as hot as hell though and very humid too. Average temp whilst we were there was between 28 and 30 degrees and it is sweltering. 

No provision is made for aircon in 95% of the places we went to bar the Armoury in Moscow and our home in St.Petes. You walk into a shop and it's like stepping into your 240 degree oven. There were two massive thunderstorms during the first two days we were there. Both caused us no inconvenience, as we were indoors. They only have 3 months of summer and 9 months of winter. Winter temps average 30 degrees below zero, inconceivable in the heat we experienced.........It was light most of the time we were there. Only gets dark at about 2am and the sun is back up by 5am.....so we woke up in sunlight and went to sleep in sunlight...makes for very little sleep, as you never seem to tire when the sun is blazing outside all day and all night. 

We stayed up one night to see the bridges over the Neva river open to let the massive ships through and that was the only time it got dark, and it wasn't really dark as we know it...... St. Petersburg is beautiful. Very flat and the river runs through the city, which is littered with canals. 

Our apartment was situated on the banks of a canal and our hosts, Rob and Michelle Elfick live on the top floor of their five storied building. It's big and spacious with three bedrooms -the main bedroom with a walk-in dressing room, spa bath, sauna and double vanity slab and shower. The kitchen cum dining room is vast, with enough room for a study and suite for a family room. We had our own bathroom with shower, loo and vanity setup. It is air-conditioned and costs the company $6000 per month!!!!!! 

You can't drink the tap water but they have a water machine in the kitchen area, so iced water is on tap all the time. Phone calls within the city are free, you only pay if you phone outside the city limits......There are wide boulevards between some of the buildings and they can be filled with outdoor restaurants by the dozen or be completely empty of any activity. 

Everywhere one turns there is a statue to a poet, Tsar or some admired Russian...no-one who has done anything worthy does not get a statue put up to acknowledge his contribution. Even statues of Lenin remain but I never saw one of Stalin or the other Soviet leaders but then maybe didn't go to those places.

The gardens too are very pretty, brimful of flowers and vast. The lawns in between them appear to be mostly mown weed. In the parks there are huge trees which provide welcome shade in the heat and loooooong benches to collapse onto, as well as fountains of every shape, size and variety you can think of...no shortage of fountains. And again everything is spotlessly clean....which I must say amazed me, mostly I think because there are hundreds of people everywhere.....the Russians go and see all of the sights en masse. 

 As far as shopping goes there is almost nothing you cannot get. We went to several supermarkets and they are packed full of goods with names that one recognizes like Lipton iced tea, Rama marge, Persil washing powder etc Of course lots of Russian labels on products but all with pics, so not difficult to find what you're looking for. The supermarkets we went into reminded me of our supermarkets back in the 70's. Small isles and wire trolleys, small old fashioned fridge's but all stocked to the gills. I forgot to look at prices but Michele felt that you got better value in SA for the equivalent in Rands. As to clothing etc all of the top name brands are there and that goes for furniture, white goods, crockery etc, The choice is vast.......

The economy is buoyant, the skyline a mass of cranes and the streets are teeming with people. There are tourist markets to buy souvenirs and Graham went off exploring on his own one day and discovered a huge Russian market, selling everything including the kitchen sink but Michele said she didn't feel safe there and avoided it...probably full of pickpocket gypsies. 

 Onto the Russians.........what a bunch of miserable, militantly grumpy, obnoxious folk. They are unfriendly, in fact I have to assume that the words smile, friend, civility, thoughtfulness and manners are missing from both their vocabulary and dictionaries. 

For example, I was walking along the pavement with G and M and moved to one side as some Russians came towards us but got mowed into by this woman, who hit me in the leg so hard with her bag, as she storm-trooped by, that I had a huge swelling and bruise on my thigh for the rest of the trip. What's more I fell off the pavement and she didn't turn a hair. Charming dame !!!!!!!!! 

They will walk in front of you as you're taking a photo and in spite of learning the Russian for thank-you and smiling at them, they glare back at you as if to say....well push off now, what do you expect from me.... Unbelievable. Another example was when I was looking at a fountain, a Russian male decided to have his photo taken next to me. Until I got a shove and verbal barrage from him, I was unaware of him but I was obviously cramping his style and was bombed on in no uncertain terms. Rude oaf. On the odd occasion one met a friendly soul but they were the exception rather than the rule. 

The two tours we went on in Moscow, run by a private enterprise had super people running the show and the guides were nice too. The two drivers that are assigned to Rob and who chauffeured us around, when asked to, were also very nice chaps and spoke moderately passable English. But as a rule they are revolting people and very hard to warm to. On the other hand they are scrupulously honest. I forgot my vanity case at the airport and my heart sank but it was held there in safe keeping for me and after filling in a multitude of forms to satisfy the most enthusiastic of bureaucrats, it was mine again!!!!! 

I also left my glasses case at a stall one day, and rushed back to find it and there it was waiting for me. Also on the overnight train to Moscow, there is a little vase of silk flowers placed on the table in the compartment and when we got off the train there they all were, window after window.....they wouldn't last a sec in this country..... 

 The people I expected to see were big, strong Russian Amazonian type woman and huge men. Instead the women I saw swarming all over the streets were petit, slender and in a lot of cases very pretty. They seem like clones of one another, they all have very similar figures....it strikes one very strongly. The men too are small in the main and slim. Of course there are big men but ones impression is that there are hoards of the little ugly okes all over the place. I didn't see one good looking man in either Moscow or St Petes, not one......maybe that's why the women are so grumpy and long-lipped.......The only big strong women I saw were those doing the manual labour and one has to ask why none of them were around the streets, but they weren't. They all dress in skin tight pants and skimpy tops, or little mini skirts and skimpy tops. That's obviously a broad generalization but that's the over-riding impression I got. 

Another remarkable phenomenon I noticed, and I have to confess it made me feel my age, was all the young women setting forth to these massive palaces and their equally massive gardens in the new pointed toe high heeled shoes, (those with points so long, they ought to be classified as lethal weapons) and traipsing around.....totter...totter...totter....for miles on end, in the sweltering heat.....positively hurt my feet, just looking at them and yet there were masses of them. I guess what women will do in the name of high fashion will never change but I was very comfy in my Nikes and got home at night blisterless and with my back in tact!!!!! 

You know you're getting old when........... Driving around is another experience altogether. None of the ex-pats drive themselves, as the traffic police adorn the streets in their multitudes and pull you over. You get a spot fine and pay then and there. The multi-national companies won't let their staff drive, as soon as the traffic cop knows you're not Russian the fine quadruples and it is levied in dollars, not roubles. 

The moves our driver pulled in the streets were mind-blowing and the little gaps he squeezed the car through left me whistling in admiration. They drive fast and defensively and it's an experience I will not easily forget....weaving in and out of traffic, avoiding pedestrians by a hairs breadth and squeezing into gaps that weren't there. Also the swinging around, over several lanes to get to where you want to be seemed to have no apparent rules as we know them. It's pandemonium but it works somehow. 

We saw several prangs though, one guy just sailing through the red robot straight into a vehicle crossing the road.........scary stuff. Every imaginable car is on the roads in Russia, from the bombed out Ladas to state of the art Mercs, BMWs, Audis, stretch limos......you name it, it's there. Public transport includes mini-bus taxis, metro and trams and all seem to be well patronized. 

 We ate a little of the local food. Had a blini at a stall in a street boulevard but neither of us were mad about them, in spite of Michele saying they were very moreish. They are similar to a large flat pancake and are filled with a myriad of fillings of your choice.. I had cheese and ham and G had mushrooms, as an example. We also had a salad one day in a Russian restaurant. It is presented to you in a glass goblet and the base is a mixture of bits of potato, peas and corn. This is topped with Chinese cabbage (neither lettuce nor cabbage) and your choice of salad..once again I had ham and cheese and then it is all drowned in mayonnaise...they are wild about mayo and ice-cream. There are ice-cream and cooldrink vendors everywhere....One day G elected to eat a pie from one of the park vendors and his choice was potato or cabbage or meat of some kind. He had the potato and said it was good but the pastry wasn't flaky pastry as we know it but a sort of donut type dough but not sweet...he suspected it was a deep fried pie. 

They seem to eat very fatty foods but according to Michelle need all that fat to survive the winters. We ate out a very posh place but the chef there was French, so I'm not sure that the style of food was Russian at all....it was divine. We all started with' vegetables' which was in fact a salad as we know it...lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, peppers etc and then G and I had the most delectable piece of salmon which topped little flat ravioli type pockets filled with the most delish spinach and another with a delicate mustard sauce.....As we were taking Rob and Michele out and she wanted pud, I had some too although I was as full as a tick and I had a trio of three different flavoured creme brulee and she had an Earl Grey ice cream on a little tartlet...also scrumptious. 

This was a floating restaurant on the Neva and was full of the so-called 'new Russians", all filthy rich and dressed up to the nines. The ultimate status symbol (for a woman) appears to be to have a miniature dog under your arm and they accompany you everywhere, restaurants too!!!!!!!!! Cellphones, the SA status symbol for the masses are ubiquitous there. On our return train trip from Moscow we were each handed a packaged meal consisting of cheese, marge, bread roll (fresh), biscuits, yoghurt, chocolate bar, pate, a bottled water, nuts (pistachio).......so you don't go hungry on the speed train..

There is also a hostess of sorts who trolls up and down with a drinks cart and you can buy all sorts of alcohol from her. The Russians like to drink. It is more common than not to see a fellow off to work in the morning with his briefcase in one hand and an open bottle of beer in the other.........but then they are strange people......I went to a bakery with Michele and the cakes are varied and look delish. A beautifully decorated cake starts at about R100 but is decorated so that each slice cut will look like a work of at on its own. 

There was every conceivable type of bread, croissants, rolls, biscuits, tarts, tartlets, donuts, buns,ready made sandwiches etc. It is an upmarket shop and is apparently owned by an English woman. The things we found to be really cheap were CDs...less than R20 each but apparently they are all black market and yet sold in modern CD stores. Camera equipment...cheaper than Hong Kong according to Rob (one of his drivers told us that that was because they had been smuggled in without customs and government taxes being paid), but again all sold in huge camera shops, computer programs also cheap and the same criteria....copies. 

We bought and had developed endless spools of film, as that too was really cheap. The whole industry is Mafia run apparently and bribes are the order of the day. The so called New Russians apparently derive their wealth from what is referred to as "unclear circumstances" and have hoards of servants, flashy cars and clothes and live in vast homes...apartments with individual swimming pools etc., 

The wealthy drug barons put up these huge homes in the country too.....we saw several dozen of them and it is obvious that money is not in short supply. The wealth of art, sculptures, tapestries, gold, silver, porcelain, crystal, marble, exotic woods , jasper....oh the list is endless that adorn the palaces of both the wealthy and the Royals is mind blowing. 

What is on display is apparently a small sample of the stuff in storage. It is magnificent and as you travel from one room to the next in these vast palaces, you just cannot believe the scale and grandeur of it all. It is so breathtakingly beautiful...the art on the walls, the ceiling and even the floors is spectacular. It is impossible to believe you will see anything more magnificent than the room you are standing in and you move on to the next room and gasp!!!!! It is endless and afterwards, when you study the diagrams of the building you have visited, you realize you saw one paltry little corner of the palace in terms of its total size.............just amazing. 

I knew that the Russians were the envy of every Royal house in Europe but had little idea of the immense scale of it all. I have only been to Versailles and Buckingham and Windsor castles, I hasten to add, but this lot make them look ordinary and I thought at the time that they were splendid indeed. You would need a couple of months to look over one palace and try to take it all in. As I said, palaces are a dime a dozen in St Petes and Moscow and so it is difficult to imagine the extent of it all. What also is amazing, is that the communists kept it all squirreled away somewhere.......... 

 I also visited a museum devoted to communism and that too was interesting but mostly documents and pictures and clothing and the like. Very drab and monotonous but all there to see. It was set up in the palace that the last Tsar gave to his ballerina mistress in St. Petes and I have to confess that's why I went, not realizing what I was actually going to see. Glad I did in the end though, saw a totally different side to the museums.

What is very irritating in both the museums and palaces, is the lack of translated signage on the exhibits. Most of it is in Russian and so you are left wondering what you were actually looking at or who you are looking at. Because of the Cyrillic alphabet, it is even more difficult to even attempt to figure anything out for yourself. 

 The city is very clean, kept so by women, who also seem to man the parks and do heavy digging and raking of flower beds in the parks and street verges. The men seem to do all of the construction type work...refurbishing pavements etc., It has a population of 5 million and there is little evidence of poverty on the streets with a few old timers begging outside churches. There are a lot of street kids around, apparently it is a big problem and arises from alcohol abuse at home. The trouble makers are the gypsies, although we were lucky enough to escape them....saw a few but they were not really in evidence. 

The week before we got there though Rob and Michelle's folks had been victimized by them trying to steal wallets out of pockets and cameras...and it was frightening for them, as they surround you in gangs and then victimize you. 

The river is not clean, nor are the canals. The edges are positively gross looking with scum and gunge, yet the Russians happily swim in it..............ugh!!!!!! 

 As you stroll or drive from one place to another you will inevitably come across a bridal party, consisting of the bride and groom and each of them appear to have an aide, who has a sash across their chest. The wedding party trek off to a favoured monument and lay a buch of flowers at the site. They travel in a car that has an arrangement on its roof and another on the bonnet. This scene is familiar every day of the week and we were told two different reasons for weddings taking place on any day of the week. One was that it is expensive to get married over a weekend and the other was that in order to arrange your marriage you go to a bureau who help with everything and they obtain aa date for you from the registry office, which has so many marriages to cope with due to the size of the population that they dish out a date and that's your wedding day, full stop. 

There is a big bash after visiting the monument of your choice, we were aware of one at the floating restaurant we were at and another zoomed passed us on a hydrofoil boat on the Neva. We also went on the hydrofoil, when we went out to the Peterhof palace for the day with Rob and Michele and that was a first for me. It was fun once we had managed to get onto the boat without being crushed to death by pushing and shoving Russians, who are at every venue you visit in their thousands. All militantly grumpy, rude and unpleasant. 

 The buildings in their entirety are magnificent. The architecture superb and it goes on and on and on, one beautiful structure after another. The city is littered with magnificent churches too, all with gold cupolas soaring into the sky and often with brilliant mosaics, frescos and carvings adorning them. Inside they are breathtaking....filled with icons and statues and art and chandeliers that are gigantic and exquisite....just so superb one quickly runs out of adjectives to describe them. 

There is an enormous amount of construction of new places going on as well as reconstruction of existing buildings. The city is overflowing with palaces too....apart from the royal palaces, wealthy nobles and merchants also had homes that were so magnificent they beggared belief. Whilst all of this is so beautiful, the Russians have a lot to learn about tourism. On a whim they will close down a palace or a museum and that's that. We devoted one day to go up to Tsarkoe Selo to see the Catherine palace. We carefully checked the guide books to make sure that it was open, as it entailed Rob laying on his driver for us and it is about 15kms outside the city, only to get there and discover that it was closed for a medical day...whatever that may mean. So you may have travelled half way around the world to get there and it's closed, no explanation, no apology...just your tough luck. 

On our last day there we again tried to go there only to discover that after waiting for 3/4 hour in the baking sun at a ticket office queue, being pushed about by the locals, that Russians would be admitted from 12-2 and non-Russians from 2-4. So we had to leave as we had to get to the airport by 1. That too was the rule for that day...it appears in no guide book and it's just tough if you are inconvenienced by it, they don't give a damn. 

We had the same experience in Moscow...Red Square had been closed off for 2 weeks, due to a terrorist threat (?)........when you see the scale of the place, that's just nonsense. In both instances, without the aid of someone who could speak Russian, there was nothing to inform us as to why we were not allowed into these places. The officials on duty just glare at you and snap 'closed' and that is that. I mean it's like shutting Cape Town down for a weekend and to hell with the tourists....can't conceive of it happening anywhere else in the world. 

So if one is going to Russia on holiday, it is wise not to set ones heart on seeing anything specific, as you might get there to find its closed and that's the end of your desire. I must say it was very disappointing as the Catherine Palace houses the newly refurbished Amber Room, reputed now to be one of the major attractions in the world, and judging by photographs of it, it is spectacular...........oh well, bloody Russians. 

 After the disappointment of our day at the Catherine Palace we had a wonderful evening. We went off to the Imperial Theatre to see a Russian ballet troupe perform Swan Lake, accompanied by the State Orchestra and it was fabulous. The Kirov Ballet Company was performing in London and the London Ballet Company was performing at the Marinsky. We wanted to see Russian ballet and so elected to go and see Swan Lake at the Imperial. Just wonderful............and the theatre, believe it or not is staffed by friendly people, who smile and are very helpful. I would highly recommend St Petes as a tourist destination though, it was quite wonderful and we were exceptionally lucky to have Rob and Michelle to visit and show us around. I would hesitate to go there alone, one would need to go on a tour to see what we crammed into 8 days and the way was smoothed by Michelle, who did an enormous amount of organizing for us. Also she can communicate in the local lingo and without that you are doomed to a very frustrating time if you have a busy schedule. 

Brave, would be an understatement in trying to go it alone, as one can do in the rest of Europe fairly easily. We had a long trip home and the last comment I have is that the new Joburg International is fantastic. Warm , friendly and efficient staff make it the most super experience......superior to Charles de Gaulle and unquestionably a million times better than Pulkovo, which doesn't know what service means. 

We were bowled over by the level of assistance and the smiling, friendly staff we came across.......a far cry from the good old apartheid days, where we compared favourably with the Russians. Even an unsmiling South African face is a friendly face after Russia and when we smile, we light up the world!!!!!!!!! Much love to you all, Baubie / Eileen xxxxxxxxxxxxx

MILL PARK RUNNING GROUP SINCE 1986

This is an account of the history of the Mill Park Running Group as seen by Graham Botha at an annual Dinner held at the PE Club in Bird Street Port ELizabeth in about 2003

Mill Park Road Runners

History

The group was started on the 18/11/1986 by Andy Bolton and Adrienne Wilson. They were joined initially by Dassie Biggs, Herbie van der Merwe and Jumbo Williams. In time familiar names like Wally Hyam, Tim Lane Margie Saunders and Greg Ward-Able joined the group.

Routes were soon put in place, and the following programme was followed;

Monday – Town and Golf Course

Tuesday – Hill work in Target Kloof followed by a cool down around St Georges Park

Wednesday - Lovemore Heights

Thursday – William Moffit

Friday – St Georges Park and Linkside

Saturday – 24 km run normally to the beachfront

The group soon had success at the Two Oceans Marathon when Adrienne and Margie both achieved an 18th place in a few years. In the late 1980’s, Peter Giddy and Ron Pask joined the group, and the Paddy/Clem group joined in for the Saturday run. Adrienne started her run of pregnancies in 1991.

Kobus Gerber joined in 1991 (after Adrienne had fallen pregnant) and the group consisted of a nucleus of about 10 members for the next few years. From 1995 to 1998, a group of runners from East London infiltrated the ranks, and the group soon had up to 30 runners. It was soon evident that the pace did not suite everyone, and as a result a new group was formed at 6th Avenue Walmer. They were soon named the Amakrokakroka.

The year 2000 saw a huge swell in numbers, as old runners returned, and novices marked the turn of the century by doing memorable events, like the Comrades. We had 68 guests at our annual dinner in that particular year. Interest in road running has dropped off in the past few years, but the stalwarts at MPRR have ensured that the group has remained strong and vibrant.













Statistics

Members of the MPRR have completed the Two Oceans marathon 260 times

Members of the MPRR have completed the Comrades marathon 174 times.


Using the above stats, keeping in mind that some runners still run but no longer enter events, the following calculations have been made. (Factor = 285 years of running)

The group has run together 5219 times

The group represents in excess of 1700 completed marathons and ultras.

285 years x 52 weeks x 70 km = 1,037,400 km

In rugby terms, we have run around a rugby field 2,593,500 times.

The Earths circumference = 6347 km – we have run around the world 164 times.

We have run to the moon and back, and are 30% of the way on the way up again.

At 5.5 min per km, we have run for 95095 hours.

Andy and Gerald have just clocked 85000 km each.

We have used in the region of 1150 pairs of running shoes (at today’s prices = R 920 000)






















The road so far


In 1986 a young lady and a chap
Started to run from a new place on the map
As runners will know they trained in the dark
But they could not be safer, they were in Mill Park

Although they were fast, good, looking and smart
They only could muster two runners to start
The word soon got out about the lady and the lout
And others then joined them to get out and about

Routes were chosen and set in place
And occasionally they attracted a fresh new face
Up hills and mountains they did run
But no one could imagine what this group would become

The years rolled by for these chaps and ladies
Some got lazy and some had babies
Many joined the Mill Parkers to run
And most of them stayed because it was fun

The turn of the century was soon upon them
And many old hands returned to run again
The group got so large that the roads were too small
And often we saw the clumsy ones fall

We were asked to run from our corner no more
By a famous young lady known as Amore
She considered our cars to be no good fun
Even though she once had a Beemer stuck under her bum

The group has survived through this all
Because we welcome all people, big or small
No dogs are allowed, as we very well know
Our Chairman politely just tells them to go

We have teachers and preachers brokers and tutors
There are salesmen and doctors and chap selling computers
Also professors and students and a man in the arts
A gardener, some bankers and a man who heals hearts

Our travels have taken us far and wide
We’ve seen cities galore and oceans from both sides
We’ve run in snow bundled in fleece
And few lucky ones even ran in Greece



Things in our country have changed a lot
But things at Mill Park certainly have not
Whilst others have seen there fortunes reverse
Our chairman finds change completely perverse

As friends we have grown for many a year
We shared joy and success and even a tear
A better group of friends we don’t think there are
We are truly blessed to have M P R R

IMPRESSIONS FORMED ON A BRIEF TRIP TO RUSSIA BY GRAHAM RICHARDS AUGUST 2003

IMPRESSIONS FORMED ON A BRIEF VISIT TO RUSSIA

Preconceptions
My wife Baubie and I had the privilege of spending the last 10 days of July with Port Elizabethans, Rob and Michele Elfick in St. Petersburg where they have been living for 18 months.

Inevitably one approaches a visit of this nature with some preconceptions, in my case arising from memories of a visit to Moscow in 1992, the impressions of Rob and Michelle circulated to their friends by e-mail, recent extensive media coverage of matters Russian (e.g. Chechnya, Putin’s administration, the 300th anniversary of St. Petersburg and the G8 visit) and not least the vestiges of cold war and apartheid era propaganda instilled in baby-boomers like me. These preconceptions include visions of a crumbling infrastructure, a confused and overly bureaucratic administration, corruption, “Mafia” dominance, a struggling economy and 3rd world environmental and other standards. Like much about Russia, such preconceptions are both true and untrue. Russia and its people are full of contradictions, making the visit for me, brief as it was, a fascinating experience.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

We arrived at St Petersburg’s Pulkova Airport in the early afternoon on a day which weather wise, set the pattern for our entire stay – hot (+/- 30 degrees C) and muggy. The majority of arrivals debark within a couple of hours of each other each day, and passengers issue almost directly off the plane into a dingy, unrelentingly plain and unbearably hot hall, too small for the numbers, and immediately queue at about 10 passport control windows. Although Russians are supposed to go through the ‘citizens’ control point, for some reason many of them prefer to use the others, often waiting much longer and adding to the discomfort of the rest of us. The passport control officers are the Russians of my preconceptions – forbidding, unsmiling women who snatch at passports and documents and spend an interminable time poring over them to no apparent end –family groups are not permitted to present themselves together – those who attempt to do so are waved imperiously back.

We nevertheless got through in what apparently is a record time – about an hour. Rob tells of a recent return from Finland when after standing in the queue for in excess of an hour, the booth he was heading for closed without explanation, leaving him and others to rejoin another queue – at the back!

The luggage hall was strangely cool – it may even have been air-conditioned. The carousel (only one) was inadequate, and officials randomly hauled bags off to make more space, leaving one to search through piles of bags on the floor to find one’s luggage.

The grogginess caused by heat, flu and a long sleepless flight caused us to leave a small bag. The next day however we found it to have been collected, efficiently sealed and locked up and available for collection after completion of two lengthy forms and a written customs declaration declaring that we had nothing to declare!

We were finally met by the happy smiling faces of Rob and Michelle, complete with traditional bouquet for Baubie. I later realized why they stood out so much from the crowd – they were the smiling ones.

The airport gave us our first experience of the emphatic unhelpfulness of Russians (i.e. those that you don’t know) Nobody (officials, shop assistants – even ticket sellers and others at major tourist attractions) is prepared to make an effort to help or to understand. Often you will be berated aggressively in Russian (presumably for not speaking Russian or daring to ask if they speak English) Accordingly, (or perhaps I should say especially) by South African standards the service levels are extremely poor. The level of bureaucracy (of the unnecessary red-tape sort) remains high.

For example, visitors to Russia may not stay with friends (Russian or otherwise) It is necessary to check into an accommodation establishment which retains your passports and registers you with the authorities. The recognized (almost overtly so) practice however is to pay for a night’s accommodation at such an establishment, in our case a back packer’s hostel, leave one’s passports (against all international traveller’s advice) and come back in a day or so to receive the necessary certificate. In our case, it turned out we had not been given the correct form at the airport, making it necessary to write to the relevant office requesting one, then return to complete it, once again leave it and passports with the hostel and hope for the best. It turns out that we had got caught in the coils of a common dilemma. A law or procedure had changed at a high level but no forms or advice had filtered down. It is quite possible that we no longer required the form to get out of Russia but as the penalty at the exit point (usually under pressure of an imminently departing flight) is a fine of varying hundreds of US dollars, we were not about to take a chance.

However, to return to the airport, we were transported by one of the Elfick’s Russian drivers in a blissfully air-conditioned vehicle. The road in from the airport is typical of major Russian routes (in Moscow too) being multilane boulevards with wide (often grassed and flower studded) central islands. The major routes of St. Petes (including the two most important being Moscovskiy and Nevskiy Prospekts) radiate out from a central meeting point near the Neva River.

Out near the airport are wide public open spaces. All Russians in the city live in massive apartment blocks. During the short period of warmth (about 6 weeks in July and August) they flock to the open spaces and strip off to expose themselves to the sun. The grassy areas alongside the road are studded with reclining sun-worshippers.

On the road in, one passes monuments on a massive scale – the monument and museum commemorating the 900-day siege of Leningrad by the Germans in WW 2 marks the effective entrance into the city. The bravery and stoicism of the Russian citizens of the then Leningrad is aptly marked by the huge circular monument, with a jagged break in the circumference representing the fall of the city, eternal flames and huge cast groups showing all the categories of citizens who contributed. The museum is not overblown, but displays simply and eloquently the almost unbelievable steadfastness of the besieged city, that lost half its population.

The museum is a huge circle and marks the beginning of Moscovskiy Prospekt – the good taste of the monument is impinged upon by the sight on each side of the Prospekt of two identical massive buildings designed and built in the Communist era, of unutterable concrete ugliness – these are perhaps the only two really ugly buildings I saw in St. Petes (many of the newer apartment blocks are merely bland and faceless)

Further along Moskovskiy one passes a huge pointing Lenin – unlike the tsars and emperors, the Communist leaders have not by and large survived in statuary form, apart from Lenin.

There are many emperors on horseback, authors (Dostoevsky, Gogol, Tolstoy and the like) brooding over St Petes and Moscow. One passes a huge Brandenberg-gate like monument to one or other victory of war topped by neo-classical forms of heroic warriors. The Russians do not forget their tragedies, their victories or their heroes. They have successfully preserved the beauty and character of a remarkable city with a glorious history, succeeding only in blocking from visible memory the gloom and paranoia of the Communist years. Unfortunately (as with the relentless spectre of apartheid) the excesses of control exercised in those years continue to bear heavy on the Russian psyche.

Even on a Sunday our trip from the airport was marked by heavy traffic. One sees plenty of Ladas (Fiat 124 clones) driven by Mr Average, or young jollers. However there are large numbers of expensive (mainly European, not Japanese) vehicles – big BMW’s and Mercedes, some Audis and Volvos and many SUV’s – clearly money is being made and spent by many in St Petes.

THE CITY

St. Petersburg was built on what was essentially a swamp, at the mouth of the Neva River into the Gulf of Finland (a shallow flat and somewhat stagnant stretch of water, not really worthy of the name sea) The city is networked with canals. The Neva (and by extension the canals) are heavily polluted. One is warned not to drink from the taps as the water supply is drawn from the Neva and the purification process does not remove either an endemic amoeba which causes painful diarrhea (residents are largely immune) or heavy metals which cause undetermined long term damage. Residents however do swim in the Neva, mainly at the ‘beach’ at the Peter and Paul Fortress, which is also where the polar bear club meets –they are reputed to swim every day of the year, even in minus 35 degree C temperatures when the Neva had frozento 1.5 metres thick. As with all cities on the water however, the presence of the river and the canals provides a pleasant relief from the cityscape. It is seldom that one is not passing alongside or over a canal on the river, and the bridges (especially over the canals) are fascinating and beautiful.

The road infrastructure is good, although off the main routes there are potholes and places where the heavy steel trams have gouged up the road alongside the tracks, making them impassable other than to 4x4’s. Rob tells me there has been a marked improvement in city infrastructure in the 18 months they have been there, and it seems central government spending will now be redirected from Moscow (which in the 11 years since I was last there has undergone a remarkable transformation) It strikes me that I may have been painting a somewhat negative picture. The city of St Petersburg in keeping with the intentions of its founder is essentially a ‘ European’ city as interpreted by the Russians and this makes it unique. It is both constantly impressive and beautiful.

Its buildings constantly amaze – as we drove down unimportant access routes we would see buildings currently used for some nondescript purpose, but which bear the signs of loving architectural design – one after the other – our necks became strained from “looking at that!” and we became lost for superlatives to describe the wonders we were seeing. Graceful columns, embossed designs, figures and statues, swooping architrave’s appear everywhere – on the main thoroughfares, such as Nevskiy Prospekt one sees the massive department store of the Gostiny Dvor, the amazing design of the old Singer Sewing Machine Building, interspersed with churches, cathedrals, theatres, small parks and statues. The imposing facades of the buildings do not always reveal what lies behind (especially to those untutored in Cyrillic) but step through any door and find a host of opportunities for those who revel in retail recreation – many in “old-fashioned “ surroundings such as the grocery store which retains its heavy sloping glass fronted display cases with wood frames and marble tops, stained glass windows and the aura of a bygone era (“Yasileevs” – redolent of the old “Hustlers, the grocer” of Main Street, PE). Many outlets are in extensive below street level basements or off alleyways running crookedly between and sometimes through buildings – many having internal courtyards. The massive Nevskiy market is contained inside the square created by a building which covers a city block, but only around the outside – the interior is a plaza, accessible only through narrow pedestrian walkways – on Nevskiy itself you would not know it was there.

The features of the city are monuments (I have said enough about them – without counting I suspect the most numerous are to Catherine the Great and Alexander 1.)
Secondly I guess would come the palaces. They seem to be ubiquitous – not only did the emperors create enormous, endlessly beautiful fantasy masterpieces, but everyone with a bit of money seems to have had a palace as well. The Winter Palace (Hermitage), the Catherine Palace, Peterhof with its fountains, the Alexander Palace are all available to visit. In most cases only a small portion of each is available to view, but even still it is a foot-wearying job working through them. The Hermitage Museum (which is packed with priceless works of art – reputedly 90% of what they have is still in storage) will reputedly take you 14 years to view. We were not able to spend time on the art – just the rooms were enough – in many cases each room was designed by famous architects for a specific purpose and then created over a period of years by skilled artisans and craftsmen. Again, superlatives so not do justice to the reality. Added to the above are the “non-royal” palaces such as the Engineer’s Palace, The Yussopov palace and others. The latter was built as a town house to hold the merchant, Yussopov’s art collection (much of which is still there.) He saw fit to build a 180 seat theatre in the house (complete with Royal box) to the whim of his daughter who had a yen for the stage, but as a society lady could not be seen on the stages of the public theatres. Yussopov Palace is a manageable size and again leaves one agape. It is quite astounding how much art and other treasures (not to mention these monuments to aristocracy and elitism] survived the communist years, the depredations of looting Germans and the like.

It is similarly interesting to see the extent to which churches have survived. The Kazan Cathedral, a crumbling edifice in the course of restoration, dominates the middle of Nevskiy Prospekt and continues to host not only masses of tourists but seemingly continuous services and many merely passing in the street who call in to light a candle.
From the front of the cathedral one looks across down the canal (alongside which Rob and Michele live) at the gingerbread castle fantasy of the much more recently built Church on the Spilt Blood – perhaps now one of the most photographed views of St. Petersburg. Other notable turreted, bell towered and gold leafed masterpieces include St Nicholas Cathedral (built for sailors) Peter and Paul Cathedral (in the similarly named fortress, where all of the Tsars and Tsarinas are buried) and St. Isaac’s which has a walkway “in the sky” around its golden dome and from which a panoramic view of the city is available. And those are just some of the the Russian Orthodox churches. Others we saw included the Catholic Cathedral and the “Armenian Church”, and a large Mosque decorated in turquoise mosaic.
As I have mentioned before, another constant in the city is bridges. Those on the Nevskiy are all capable of lifting and are opened at 1:30 in the morning to allow river traffic through (ships of similar size to the coastal freighters which ply the African waters, but with pared down superstructures navigate the Neva) On warm summer nights in July and August, it is only dark for a couple of hours and the opening of the bridges an attraction to tourists (the vast majority of tourists are Russian) and locals alike. All along the river, floating restaurants and kiosks alike do brisk business in beer and meals whilst crowds of people promenade along the water’s edge. Certainly at this time of year St.Petersburg does not sleep.

The many canals are criss-crossed with bridges; many decorated with golden winged lions or other mythical beasts, gold leafed columns and turrets, on tower bridge-like arches. Perhaps my favourite is the “Taming of the Horses” on Nevskiy, at each of the four corners of which is a large representation of a straining horse being controlled by a muscular man – each being unique. From road or water, this bridge is spectacular. For runners (who seem to be Rob, Michelle and their visitors) the Neva bridges, with their slight inclines, represent the only hills available in the city.

The city features a number of open spaces (some of which are squares or plazas) but include a number of parks. We visited the Summer Garden (very popular with strollers) the park around the Mars monument and one morning went to run on Yelagin Island, on one of the tributaries of the Neva. On the island on which the Peter and Paul Fortress is constructed (commissioned by Peter the Great to command the seaward approach to Petersburg) there is a “beach” alongside the walls of the fortress, an artificially created stretch of what I will charitably call sand, which attracts not only sunworshippers, but bathers who brave the scummy waters of the Neva in all temperatures.

At Peterhof, not only is the palace surrounded by beautiful gardens throughout which are situated the many astounding fountains, but the palace is on the Gulf of Finland, also a popular bathing spot. I saw large numbers of people heading off a wide dark stretch of mud serving as a beach. About 200m offshore, the water remains only waist deep, so not much real swimming is done.

Although many residents of St. Petersburg now seem to have access to cars, a great many remain reliant on public transport. The main means is the Metro. Built during Communist times and generally paraded as a triumph of the state, the metro as experienced by us in St. Petersburg and Moscow is efficient, fast and cheap. In St. Petes, the tunnels are deep (due to the swamp-like nature of the soil) with steep, long very fast escalators – no room for hesitation. The connecting pedestrian tunnels are clinically tiled like old-fashioned provincial hospitals, with white tiles. Many taxis ply the streets and fares can be negotiated if business is not good. Many streets have tram tracks on which extremely heavy old steel trams operate – obviously also going back to the early communist era. These have a tendency to tear up the tar surrounding the tracks and where this has occurred, the 4x4 was welcome. There are also “route taxis” looking somewhat like the proposed replacements for our local taxis. Interestingly there seems to be little commercial ferry traffic on the river and canals. Large hydrofoils carry day-trippers to and from Peterhof and the sightseeing boats ply the Neva and the canals. On the streets traffic is heavy, except in the morning (The vodka seems to kick in at about 3:00 or 4:00 ) and traffic only picks up at 8:00 or so, increasing with the rush to get to work at 9:00 and peaking from then until midday (obviously winter will change this pattern- apparently many cars are put away for the winter, when driving requires steel studded snow tyres)

For a front seat passenger, a first experience of driving in Russia (on the right) is alarming. The traffic signals do not go to amber from green, but directly to red. From red they change to red and amber together and through to green. Intersection collisions are a favourite pastime and we saw a few and a number of near misses. The prevailing pattern seems to be that if a perceived gap exists, go for it. This includes on the right of a large articulated truck or bus about to turn right. The sport is to make it through the gap before it closes. If alongside a tram, which stops, a driver must stop too (trams are in the middle of the road) – and let the passengers off. It is nor permitted to cross the major boulevards from a side street (even at a controlled intersection) and turn left into the lane on the opposite side – rather one turns right and does a U-turn to face in the opposite direction in a small space left in front of cars stopped at the robot in the main thoroughfare. The roads in central St. Petersburg are often jammed, but I did not see them gridlocked – the traffic always seems to move somehow.

A feature of Russia is “VIP Convoys”. I believe that certain levels of politicians are entitled to travel in vehicles with a flashing red light on the roof and a braying type klaxon. It seems that the ‘right’ in question often seems to pass to others with the means to acquire it. The typical convoy is led by a Mercedes Benz (decked out in traffic police livery, although the average patrolmen use the ubiquitous Fiat 124 type Ladas – presumably they are also sponsored by the convoyed person) Next in line will typically be a black S class Merc 500 or similar and a luxury SUV (BMW X5 or Merc M Class) and followed by another big Merc. They all drive bumper to bumper at considerable speed, through red robots, intersections etc., loud klaxon braying – smoked glass windows complete the “Mafia picture” Apparently the big-shot is usually in the SUV – if a hapless Lada driver gets in the way in an intersection, the big Merc will merely T-bone him and be left whilst the one at the back pulls up to the front. As is apparent in the media, political/business/Mafia assassinations are not uncommon (usually an anonymous shot in the back of the head) and the convoys are a safety mechanism. In such cases the line between politician and "Mafia" is not always apparent.

Traffic cops are everywhere, usually weeding out the unconnected Mr. Average in his Lada, or much bashed Opel or similar to check papers and vehicle, find something wrong and send him on his way a couple of hundred Roubles lighter. This seems to be a tacitly accepted method of income supplementation.

On the business front, the multinationals are moving in, with substantial manufacturing and other facilities. Rob works for JTI, a massive cigarette manufacturer, which markets Russian brands as well as well known names such as Camel. There is now a Coca-Cola plant, a Cadbury’s chocolates and biscuits factory, a Cadbury’s owned Dirol chewing gum plant and more. Many of the major US and European companies seem to use expats at the upper echelons of management although I believe from Rob that the skills transfer rate has resulted in the numbers of expats decreasing. For the present however, it remains cost effective for companies to pay for such skills in US dollars, expensive apartments and cars with drivers. It seems that the level of frustration of operating in an environment where the work ethics and service standards that we take for granted are not only lacking but not understood at all, results in expat burnout after about two years.

On the retail front, over the last 10 years there has been a metamorphosis. I have mentioned the massive shopping precincts such as Gostiny Dvor, the market on Nevskiy and supermarkets. Traders have made imaginative use of atriums, basements, arcade spaces and the like, with few purpose designed retail buildings (such as massive malls). It is possible to find all the major brands and labels as well as many high end boutique shops (such as a beautiful household goods, furniture and appliance store we found – presumably catering to the wealthy “new Russians” – run by a Frenchman and stocking cutting edge European designs). Prices in “label” shops tend to be in ‘units’, somewhere in the shop you will find a conversion, which will give you the Dollar/Euro or Rouble rates. It is a bit confusing for the uninitiated particularly if they think they have found the bargain of the century in Roubles – usually it needs multiplication by at least 30! By and large everyday goods are competitive in Rands. Nearly all CD shops stack huge ranges of CD’s you would never see in Musica (complete set of the Doors, GrandFunk Railroad and John Mayall for example) selling for 70 Roubles (about R18) each. Of course, they are knock- offs, but they sell in legitimate retail outlets. Also DVD’s, computer software and the like are similarly available at bargain basement prices. The latest range of digital cameras is available at about 60% of SA prices.

It is necessary to say something specific about the environment. The most notable feature for South Africans is the massive differential between winter and summer. We experienced the current European wide heatwave with temps usually in the 30-degree C range, with Durban like humidity. Contrast this with December temps of –35 deg C and the massive pressure on city infrastructure will be understood. In the dead of winter, the sun never comes up and at the height of summer it only just goes down. At this time of the year (August) daylight is lost at a rate of 45 mins per day. We experienced one drenching thunderstorm (luckily whilst in the Pajero) which rapidly caused streets to flood to a depth of a metre and dropped visibility to a few metres. In winter the city is blanketed by heavy snow, the Neva (and the Gulf of Finland) freezes to a depth of 1.5 metres. The city is dotted with tall chimneys of the heating plants, which produce steam to heat office and apartment blocks. It seems that it is in this area of infrastructure that much work needs to be done. In some apartment blocks the heating has failed, making for a bitter winter.

The vehicles still use poor quality fuel, leading to stinging eyes and coughing due to poor air, if one is using foot-power. But it has certainly vastly improved since I was last in Russia in 1992.

By way of contrast, the newspaper reports on the action being taken by the government against the Cadbury’s owned Dirol plant for illegal use of chemicals contrary to factory specs approved when it was built.

The Neva River remains polluted in spite of being the city water supply – visitors are warned in guidebooks of the pernicious amoeba, which causes major runs.

The contrasts in weather are visible on the facades of buildings – double glazed windows are essential.

The national government elects a deputy Prime Minister whose sole responsibility is preparing the country for winter. Having to deal with that environment is beyond our understanding. Rob tells me that they stop running below about –8 deg C. Even then he has a pack if bubble wrap which goes into the front of his track suit to protect the leading parts of his anatomy from suffering from frost-bite.

Finally, I have to make some comments about the people. I won’t pretend after 10 days to have any great insights. The greats of Russian literature have attempted to expose the Russian psyche. I obviously cannot compete. In 1992 the Russians seemed to be almost in a daze – they were confused as to how to deal with the collapse of a massive centrist communist regime – most people had known nothing else. It was hard for people to take control of their own lives to the extent required. However it is now apparent that they have succeeded in doing so to a far greater degree than I would have believed possible. There is an air of confidence, of security and of self-worth which was lacking 11 years ago. Of course, the government remains largely centrist in nature and the people seem to accept a far higher level of central control and intervention than is the case in SA. The Russians that one meets (policemen, ticket sellers, and shop assistants et al) seem to have no consciousness of being part of a greater world. They will incorporate Western consumerism and culture into their own lives, but on their terms. US movies are available on DVD, but with Russian soundtracks (unlike in most other European countries which often make do only with subtitles) In fact, those with soundtracks by “realist” translators, who incorporate the modern Russian slang, swearwords and references to “new Russian” culture are much in demand. I detect a deep seated and unbending sense of “Russian-ness” which pervades the make up of every Russian. I have not in any other country experienced the same sense of identity by the people with their country, their language, their culture, with a national religion (even by those who reject it) such a sense of sharing of centuries of national suffering and melancholy, as with the Russians. Perhaps only the French come close in their essential Frenchness. It is perhaps this, which gives rise to the serial grumpiness, the pervasive scowl, the refusal to be helpful with which one tends to be faced from all Russians. The usual Western tourist’s refrain of “Do you speak English?” is usually met with a contemptuous dismissal and often with a torrent of abusive Russian, essentially “why should I speak English, this is Russia and I am a Russian”. On the other hand, it is possible with time to get behind the façade and as long as the proper degree of respect and understanding is shown for the fact that one is dealing with a Russian, to find friendliness and hospitality.
In St.Petersburg, women are reputed to outnumber men by 5 to 1. And what women! The promenading masses on Nevskiy Prospekt in the afternoon contain as abnormally high proportion of beautiful women. Uniformly small boned and slim, they parade in tiny skirts, high heels, tight and plunging tops designed to display all their charms without actually being quite naked, and without somehow lacking taste or being vulgar. Perhaps it is the disdainful “Nevskiy strut” – hips and breasts thrust forward, legs swinging from the hips, heads held high- which is the saving grace. Certainly there is an eye-popping panoply of pulchritude, unaffected by dour notions of politically correct feminism.
St.Petersburg is perhaps the quintessential new Russian City. It retains with pride its ancient heritage – yet it has developed its own lifestyle and vibrancy – a mixture of wild-west land-grab Mafia barons, petty corruption, new money, optimism, growth, goods in the shops, luxury cars and perhaps overall a sense of opportunities and a better future which has continuously emerged over traditional Russian pessimism.

A visit to St.Petersburg is recommended to all readers who have endured this far!

WALMER METHODIST CHURCH SUMMER CAMP MARK MANLEY CHANGE MANAGEMENT MARCH 2003.

WALMER METHODIST CHURCH
SUMMER CAMP 2003
MARK MANLEY
PETER’S NOTES OF DISCUSSIONS AND PRESENTATION
THE DISCUSSION WAS ONE OF CHANGE. (TRANSFORMATION)
HOW DO WE REACT TO CHANGE?
HOW DO WE ACCEPT CHANGE?


STORM
FORM
NORM
PERFORM
FORM
PERFORM
STORM
NORM

Success of the past is one of the greatest enemies of the future
BUT
Growth is demanded of us
AND
We all resist change
BUT
Growth is impossible without change

For change and growth COMMITMENT is essential for the process.
HOWEVER
Committed people are prepared to make sacrifices. If this is true then how do we make people committed to the change?

Behaviour Incidents of activity or action
Attitude Pattern of behaviour
Values (system) For areas of our lives
Internal rules that are built-in
Values for success in the areas of work, sport, family etc.
Belief Something that we have chosen to be true (Ref Romans 12.)


HOW TO CHANGE?
Exposure
Reinforcement and repetition
Move to a value system
Integration
Adoption
Revelation


BEHAVIOUR

ATTITUDE

VALUE
BELIEF
Good = the enemy of excellence

Story of Tiger Woods. Who won the US Masters. And then went out to learn a new swing because he was not satisfied.

Who resists change?
Those who are experts in the old ways.
Those who see no success in the new ways
The timid
The uncommitted.



There will be an insecurity about our survival.
If we SURVIVED yesterday
Then why not make tomorrow like yesterday.
Here we see there is no talk of growth but merely of survival

Personal reaction phases to change
Denial
Resistance
Exploration
Commitment


DENIAL
How good things were in the past
It cant happen here
They don’t really mean it
Everything as usual attitude
Refuse to hear the new information

RESISTANCE
Anger
Loss / hurt
Stubbornness
Blaming others
Complaining
Doubting our own ability
(the opposite is: I have the ability, I am competent and They like me)






EXPLORATION
What will happen to me?
Seeing possibilities
Chaos
Indecisiveness
Learning of new skills
Decisions not based on past experiences


COMMITMENT
Where am I headed
Focus
Teamwork
Vision
Cooperation


Ability to bring about change
Use the influence that you have
Action … Prepared to take action
Endless striving
Release

Churchill: We will never, never, never, never, never, never, never give up!

Now:
Look to see what changes are needed
Where are we now?
What are the old rules?
What if we did it? Would it radically change the situation?

CAT'S IN THE CRADLE BY SANDY AND HARRY CHAPIN

Cat’s in the Cradle
By Sandy and Harry Chapin

My child arrived just the other day
He came to the world in the usual way-
But there were planes to catch and bills to pay
He learned to walk while I was away
And he was talkin’ fore I knew it and as he grew he’d say

I’m gonna be like you, Dad
You know I’m gonna be like you.

And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin’ home, Dad
I don’t know when
But we’ll be together then-
You know we’ll have a good time then

My son turned 10 just the other day
He said, Thanks for the ball, Dad, com’on let’s play
Can you teach me to throw?
I said not today, I got a lot to do
He said, That’s okay
And he walked away but his smile never dimmed
It said I’m gonna be like him

Well he came home from college just the other day
So much like a man I just had to say
Son. I’m proud of you, can you sit for a while
He shook his head and said with a smile-
What I’d really like, Dad, is to borrow that car keys
See you later, can I have them please?

When you comin’ home, Son?
I don’t know when
But we’ll be together then
You know we’ll have a good time then

I’ve long since retired, my son’s moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said I’d like to see you if you don’t mind
He said, I’d love to, Dad- if I can find the time

You see my new job’s a hassle and the kids have the flu
But it’s sure nice talkin’ to you, Dad
It’s been nice talking to you

And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me-
He’d grown up just like me; my boy was just like me

KILIMANJARO 2000 -- BE PREPARED FOR A REALLY TOUGH CLIMB

Kilimanjaro September 2000

Peter & Barbara Giddy
Keith Braatvedt
Nico
Petera
Dawn Kumm

Kilimanjaro is a tough climb. Preparedness will help. Talk to people who have been up the mountain recently if possible as their memory will be fresh. Here is an account as best as I can remember it.

Barbara had this thing about wanting to climb Kilimanjaro. I had no such desire and so left all the organising to her. I felt that we could not afford such a trip and also that this would be something too taxing on the physical side of things. Nevertheless she continued to talk to various people and a fair number showed interest. But when it came to putting money where mouth is it was Dawn and Keith who were going to be with us. Keith found an associate of his from Johannesburg who was also keen to take on this adventure, Nico. Dawn had mentioned the climb to a man who Tracey knew from her work, Peter and he too agreed to come along.

Of all of us there was only Peter who had any climbing experience. As far as I can remember he had climbed in the Andes in South America and the Himalayan Mountains. Barbara & I were completely new to this and had to do a huge amount of shopping before we felt prepared. We visited Cape Union Mart on a number of occasions before we had bought the necessary down Sleeping bags, Sturdy Hiking boots, Thermal underwear gloves, headlamp torches, Special water bottles that don’t freeze up and big winter anorak jackets that had special fleece lining for the extreme cold. Another major purchase was the anti altitude sickness pills. I can’t remember the name of the stuff but we read extensively on the subject and made sure that we would be well stocked.

We set off to meet in Johannesburg The airport was our rendezvous place. The flight to Tanzania was Air Tanzania and we really did not have any illusions about the comfort levels that we should expect. I think that the flight was in the region of 4 hours and we landed in the evening at the Moshi Airport. Here we loaded all our stuff onto a bus. Peter could not find his luggage. It seemed to have been lost. But we had to leave so piled into the bus and headed off for Moshi. We had no idea what to expect and as we got to the hotel we were ushered into bungalow type accommodation. Keith and I shared, Peter & Nico shared and Barbara & Dawn shared rooms. That evening we went to the main dining area of the hotel and had a good meal. After this we gathered in a large entertainment area where we were given instructions for the next day. I had no idea what the man was saying and thought that I would just follow everyone else the next day. We bought ourselves some of the local Tusker and Kilimanjaro beer and settled down for the night.

The next morning was the most chaotic day that I can ever remember. We had a breakfast and then packed our things up again. Peter had still not found his luggage and so the rest of us men clubbed together to make sure that he would have enough clothes for the climb. We, of course, had brought way too much for ourselves. Fortunately Peter had the foresight to have retained the essentials for the climb on board the plane. He still had his video camera, Boots, jacket and I think that he had his warm sleeping bag. After breakfast we were introduced to our guide, Tobias. He had piles and piles of stuff that had to be loaded onto vehicles. We each were allowed a large tog bag not weighing more than 15 kilograms.

Finally it seems that we were the last to leave and left in a Landrover type vehicle. We drove into town where there seemed to be more chaos and filled up with petrol. As we drove we saw the mountain for the first time. It seemed awesome. It is not far from Moshe to the base of Kili where the climb was due to start. As we arrived at the base we were in even more Chaos than before. We had to sign in as climbers and sort out the tip with the head guide. What we did was to write it down. We had heard that a tip of about US$90 was expected from each of the climbers in a party. Most transactions were conducted in US dollars. Each of us had a small day pack and after quite a time we eventually started the walk. There was total confusion all around but somehow our bags and all the equipment for the climb was sorted out. At the base there were probably a couple of hundred people including porters and climbers. The porters loaded the equipment on their heads and began a brisk walk up the pathway. We had heard that the way to climb Kili was “Poly Poly” which is Swahili for slowly. The first day was along rough pathways and in enormous forests. We stopped a few times and I learned my second word of Swahili – Twende – This is the word for “Let’s Go”. At this stage we were having fun. It was not over taxing and luckily there had not been heavy rains recently so we were not in mud or slush. At the end of the day we walked into thinner forest and into our campsite. The first camp is the Machame camp. The walk had probably been about 5 or 6 hours that day. Our tents had been set up and after supper in the main tent we were in bed fairly early. Keith & I had done a bit of exploring to see if we could buy some beers at a hut in the center of this campsite.

On our first morning on the mountain we were greeted by a porter. His name was Richard. He had a Skeef eye but was one of our favourites as he offered “hot water washing” in the mornings. He seemed to be the equivalent of a Mountain butler and would be there to see to all our needs in the camp. We had ourselves a bit of a wash. It was freezing cold in the early morning but we soon warmed up as we began the days walking. Some teenager had a CD player but we had decided to enjoy ourselves and were tolerant to everything around. As we looked back to the Machame camp through the morning mist we saw how quickly we had ascended. At lunch time we were treated to hot ginger tea, soup and good food. Each time we stopped for a meal the porters would lay out a table cloth, stools and set out the meal as if we were picnicking at the beach next to our car.

This was a long days walk with plenty of climbs and no more forest. A lot of Lava rock and desert looking vegetation. On these first two days I had walked in shorts and a t-shirt. I was very grateful of the solid boots that I had as the pathway was rough and stony. At this stage this was still just a tough hike. That afternoon we reached the Shira Plateau. We were above the clouds. This afternoon many of the climbers were not feeling well as the altitude sickness was starting to take its toll. I realised that I had left my allocation of the anti altitude sickness pills at home and so had to share with Barbara. Fortunately I was not too bad at this stage.

Keith & I walked up and around the nearby koppies. Peter “super C” did a much longer walk along the plateau. As Keith and I looked down on the campsite below it stretched across a vast area and counting the number of tents I did an estimate that there were in the region of 300 people at this camp. I remember that the toilet facilities were (excuse the pun) the pits. There were these huts with a hole in the ground. And my apologies if I disgust you but many of the people using the toilets missed. Ugh! So we would mainly use the spade method. Littering is a big problem on a popular mountain like this. However the main litter to be found is toilet paper.

This evening we were all exhausted and asleep early. We had a talk to our main guide (Tobias) about the route. It seems that the way to overcome AMS (acute mountain sickness) is to walk high and then sleep low. So we should be doing a walk and then coming back to the same camp for the night. I am not sure if it was our or the guide’s decision that this was not a good idea in our case but the next day we packed up and walked up the plateau and away from the camp.

It is a mystery to me how the porters are able to pack up the tents, load all the provisions and our bags on their heads and meet us at the next camp with the tents already set up. But that is what happened each day. Our third day was a long and tough day. Tobias and Pascoe urged us to walk “Poly-Poly” and to conserve energy. I remember finding it so amusing that Tobias was entrusted with the bag carrying the eggs and Pascoe was carrying a gas cylinder for cooking. He would carry the cylinder on the back of his neck. The Guides of Kili have to undergo fairly rigorous training. They learn to speak English, to cook, basic first aid and have to be fit and accomplished climbers. Tobias had climbed this mountain many times before.

The terrain became increasingly harsh. We walked in biting cold winds. We saw less vegetation and by lunchtime we were all pretty exhausted. During the breaks we would sit or lie down and relax for as long as we were allowed. After the break today the walk became extremely tiring. We walked into a wind with sleet beating down on us. I put my Kili jacket on with the hood covering my head and face and walked in total misery. Eventually we reached the Lava Tower. The weather cleared to some extent and we were able to explore our surroundings. Some of the other climbers were extremely sick and we were able to assist with the AMS pills.

The Tower is this huge outcrop of rock and I think that Nico, Keith and Super C all climbed it that afternoon. I was too tired and flopped down to try to recover. There were not nearly the same number of other groups at this camp. I think that most of them had walked to the Baranco Wall and would take a different route to the summit. It was very cold here and I remember sleeping with all my clothes on. I would sleep well every night on the mountain.

The next (fourth) day Super C had walked up the west face of the mountain before breakfast. He called down to us to wave as he was filming with the video camera. He must have lost it I thought. I had just enough energy to walk to the breakfast tent and here was this man walking way up the mountain for fun. As we emerged from our tents it looked like it had been snowing in the night. But what it was, was the early morning frost and sleet making the ground appear white. We were told that today would be a very short walk.

We started off in heavy mist. We had absolutely no idea where we were going. We could see that there were gouges made by ancient glaciers that had slid down the mountainside and we walked through these mini valleys. It was really not long before we were at the Arrow Glacier camp. The wind was whipping up at the tents and it seemed that they would not last. But our guides were clearly experienced and secured everything down.

The four men decided to do a bit of exploring and walked over to the Glacier where we did a Zulu Warrior dance for Super C’s camera. The porters collected water from pools of melted ice. That evening we had a meeting with the guides who explained the routine. We would try to get to sleep as early as possible and they would wake us up at about 23.00. We would then have something to eat and drink and then start walking at midnight. We looked up to the rockface that we would be climbing and tried to imagine doing this in the pitch dark. But we were in the hands of the guides and had to do what they told us.

Sure enough, after some tea and biscuits we set off at midnight for the ascent through the Arrow Glacier. We did not have to climb through any ice. It was just a rock face that we walked and climbed with the aid of our headlamps. There were a number of other parties but they seemed to go at a quicker pace than we did. At this stage we could see the snake like line of lights up and ahead of us. Eventually it became light and we could see how high we had walked this morning. It was freezing cold. We had our big gloves on as well as the Kili Jackets and beanies to try to ward off the biting wind and cold. At one time we stopped for tea.

This was one of the toughest times of our lives as we huddled in the rocks to cut out the wind. Barbara was in total misery as she now had her own, plus the guide’s gloves on. I was in no state to help her and she wanted us to press on and she would follow later. Fortunately the guide was able to understand how she was feeling and eventually got her going again. I remember Super C taking pictures of the clouds below as the early morning sun shone on them. And how he nearly fell to certain death as he took a step backwards and nearly over the cliff face. We tried to be extremely careful as we climbed up but being so tired and out of breath it was difficult to think clearly.

Eventually after about six hours of climbing we reached the top of the rockface. The sun shone onto where we sat and tried to recover. I had this dilemma that I needed to breathe and wanted to take the beanie off my mouth but if I did that my face froze. Super C walked over to the Glacier at the top to measure how big it was. I think that it was about five times his height. It was huge and vast. At this stage we were in a kind of valley just below the highest point of the mountain. We walked in single file to the base of the very last part of the climb. We saw that some of the groups had gone ahead and up this section. Barbara, Dawn and Pascoe were behind us.

In hindsight I was selfish and thoughtless and worried about my own preservation only. But we went on and up the final section. Keith does Karate and counts to ten in Japanese. So what we did was contour up this section at ten steps at a time with Keith counting in Japanese. After each ten steps we would stop and rest. Once we crested this section it was a flat 100 meters to the signpost saying that we had reached the top of Kilimanjaro. The Uhuru Peak. This point is just short of six kilometers above sea level.

It seems that what most people do is to take pictures and immediately begin their descent. But we had to wait for Barbara and Dawn. We looked down to the valley where we had just been and there we saw them. It looked like they were resting. So we decided to do the same and had a good sleep before they eventually joined us on the top of the mountain. It was midday and we had been hiking for 12 hours by now. On the top of the mountain there are some vast Glaciers. We hear that these Glaciers are melting and may soon disappear and may be a thing of the past for future climbers. We took a few pictures and began the descent.

Pascoe found a glacier pool and fetched us water. Water is so essential on the mountain-top. This is what we should have been drinking to stave off the headaches. Super-C had no medication, only water. We were going down a different way. It was shale and loose rocks for most of the way. Keith was not feeling well. But we had to continue down. Again we became separated from Dawn and Barbara. We did not know how far we would have to go before we met up with our camp. We had been told it was called Millenium (or High) Camp. We passed though a camp with huts and fires on the go. This was not ours. We finally reached our camp and found our tents. Keith & I looked around to find the place where beers were on sale. We paid double the already exorbitant price but were happy to do so as a celebration was in order. We had no idea where Dawn & Barbara were and after a while we became anxious.

It was getting late and it was dark. The Guides put together a bit of a picnic supper boiled eggs and some ginger tea and sent out a search party to find them. Eventually at about 23.00 they walked into camp. Barbara was severely sunburned and they had been on the go for 24 hours. Probably for both of them this was one of the very toughest days of their life. They had been having illusions on the pathway. Seeing all kinds of things and not knowing where they were.

The following morning there was frost on the ground and the tents. It was cold but we were feeling good having all achieved the climb successfully. Barbara was in a bad way with sunburn. Today we started off in high spirits and although it was a fairly long trek. We finally made it to the check out gate where we were certified as having reached the Uhuru Peak. Tobias did the paper work while we waited. There was quite a long queue of people at the gate.

After the formalities we walked on for a little while to an outdoor restaurant type of place where we were given a plate of Stir-Fry and rice. We also bought ourselves a beer each. This was a real treat. It was delicious. After our meal we were loaded onto busses and rode back to the Moshi Hotel. Here we booked in again to our Bungalows and had a good shower. And finally after we had washed up we all met outside the hotel with our group of Guides and Porters.

Tobias handed out the Certificates while we treated everyone to beers. The Porters then sang us the Kilimanjaro song. To which we replied with a version of I-Zika-Zooma-Zoomba-Zey. They delighted in this. We had gathered a whole lot of stuff that we would not be needing back in PE, including snacks and clothing that we had made them carry up and down the mountain. This pile of stuff we handed to the porters together with the pre-negotiated tip.

For the six of us climbers there had been a team of about 15 guides and porters. Not all of them had been with us all the time. While we were hiking it was Tobias (Head Guide) and Pascoe (assistant Guide) who had stayed with us. Richard was the Butler and I think one of the cooks. The rest we had hardly seen as they would hike up the mountain with our stuff and often run down again. Others would carry tents and equipment to the next camp, set up the tents and begin the meal and so everything would be ready as we arrived into camp.

After a good nights rest in the Bungalows we loaded our stuff up the next morning and were driven by bus to the airport. The airport wait was quite pleasant as we chatted to other hikers and visited the shop there where we purchased a tape with the Kilimanjaro song. We were shown onto our airplane through the rear entrance and were told that there was “free seating” and that we were headed for Daresalam.

Daresalam is Tanzania’s largest city and is on the East Coast. This was a mystery for us as we though that the flight was direct to Johannesburg as it had been on our trip up. Anyway, Who were we to argue? An amusing feature of this flight was the coffee that was served in the thinnest of plastic cups imaginable. If the cups had been any thinner they would have melted and leaked. It was a short trip to Daresalam and we were ushered to the transit lounge. I think that it must have been Sunday as none of the shops were open.

We sat in a café area and watched the Olympics that were on at the time. After a while we were told that there was to be a delay as “the plane, she are broken”. We were issued with meal tickets in the form of boarding passes which when we tried to redeem them were handed a packet of Simba Crisps. After a while the trays of Airplane food were wheeled into the lounge area and we were fed this. Then I think that we were either told or a rumour spread that we would be boarding soon. So we checked through the security x-ray machine and sat in the waiting area for a while until we became bored and walked back to the restaurant area. All during this Dawns Ice Pick was frozen on the screen of the X-ray machine!

It seemed that we were going to be there for a long time and the airport officials were getting sick and tired of us so they gave us an outing to the city. We were loaded into taxi combi's and driven through town to a plush hotel. The streets of Daresalam were some of the worst I have ever seen where we would have to ride over onto the side of the road to avoid huge donga's in the road. The Hotel was something quite different. Here we were treated to a sumptuous meal and given a room to change so that we could have a swim.

We had been told to be ready at 18.00 at the front of the hotel and there we waited for quite some time as even when the busses came to collect us there were arguments about how the bus drivers were to be paid for all their efforts. We were at this time concerned that we should be back at the airport for our flight back to Johannesburg. But it all worked out okay and I think it was about 21.00 when we finally boarded a Nationwide flight that had been chartered specially for us to fly home. As the doors of the airplane closed and we taxied on the runway I realised how it must feel to be a hostage and then to be freed. Our own experience was hardly a hostage one but we felt a huge sense of relief as we headed home and were being flown by South African Pilots and were being served by South African Stewards.

Our day in Daresalam had been an experience on its own. When we finally reached Johannesburg, Keith’s wife, Suzanne was waiting to collect us. She drove us to their home where we spent the night telling stories. The next day we were able to fly home to recover from this amazing experience. We have an album of photos as well as a copy of a Video that Super C Peter had taken.

Peter Giddy
September 2000

MY TRIP TO GREECE AROUND SEPTEMBER 1971

My trip to Greece
Around September 1971

I cannot remember exactly how old I was when I did this trip. But I must have been round 20 years old as I was at university at the time. My last year at St Andrews was 1968 and from there I went directly to University in Johannesburg. For a brief period I had a Greek girlfriend. She introduced me to this trip that had been planned mainly for Greeks in Johannesburg. The price of around R500 was to include accommodation at the University hostel in Athens. Even at that time this was a good price and my father agreed to pay for me. I think that he must have also given me some spending money. I left with no idea as to what I was going to do when I got to Greece but packed a minimal amount of clothing and set off on the Olympic airline. By the time we started this little adventure the girlfriend and I were no longer going out so I teamed up with a young man Tim and his sister that I met on the plane. We sat together and worked out a possible trip.

Once in Athens we were taken by bus to the City Centre where we were shown to our rooms. It was basic accommodation but very comfortable and they gave us a meal. We wanted to explore and so began our tours around the city of Athens. By day we would take busses to various part of the city. We combined our trips to the ancient sites such as the Acropolis with visits to coffee shops. The evenings were spent in the area just below the Acropolis known as the Plaka. It was a small area full of Taverna’s and Restaurants. This is where we had about three nights of real fun. We ate watermelon, drank wine and sang songs with the locals. I remember one night when I had been the last to leave that there were no busses running so I had to walk home. I had no idea where to go and was lucky enough to meet up with a young man who helped me find the hostel. I was not worried about getting robbed as I had very little if any money. On my first day in Athens I bought a shirt in the local style. And I wore this shirt throughout the trip. It was white with embroidered Greek style patterns around the V neck. I loved this shirt. During the day we ate Slouvaki. This is a pancake filled with shavings off a huge polony type of meat that turns slowly around a griller.

After we had our fill of partying at the Plaka and sight seeing in Athens we decided to do an Island trip. One morning we woke up early and took a bus to a port town. From there we boarded a ferry boat that would take us to Skiathos. We always travelled deck class on these boats. I froze every night we were on the boats. Sometimes I would try to sneak into the lounge through the window but was scared of getting caught and being handed over to the police at the next port. So mainly we huddled in the ropes to try to keep the chill out of our sleeping bags. The Island of Skiathos was a huge success for us. As we landed we greeted by young boys who asked us if we were needing accommodation. They offered a bed only for about R0.50c per night. We were allowed to use the toilet but a shower would cost extra. We were quite happy with this as the room was sunny and warm and we really only needed the room to store our kit and to sleep. Tim, who I had met on the airplane turned out to be a Transvaal diver. One morning we were on a beach when some passing fisherman saw that we had female company and offered us a ride on their boat. Once on the boat we saw they had a huge kind of shell fish and Tim asked if he could try to dive for one. They laughed as this was a once off that they had managed to catch this shell fish deep in the ocean. Tim jumped off the boat and it was not long before he surfaced with one of these shell fish even bigger than the one that they had. He was the hero of the day and they immediately rushed us off to shore to a beach Taverna where there was a lot of dancing and singing about this catch. The lady of the Taverna offered to cook the delicacy and the owner offered us some wine. This was an amazing afternoon and we celebrated with them until late that evening. The fishermen eventually offered to take us back to the main port where we were staying. Each evening I would walk the narrow street and tried to find a small local taverna where I would sit for hours with a glass of wine or Ouzo and absorb some of the local culture. During the days we took busses or walked to the various beaches and spent hours sunning ourselves. On one of the beaches Tim & I saw some people on a Hobie Cat and enquired if we could hire one. Soon we were sailing off into the sea. Carefree and happy we hardly noticed how far we had sailed nor did we notice that the wind had picked up. Eventually as we battled to make our way back to shore we capsized the Hobie Cat and after a long fight we were able to right the boat. But by now time was against us and the owner of the boat must have realised that we had little chance of returning his boat to him in one piece so he came out in a speed boat and towed us back. This was a really embarrassing time for Tim & I as we had left with so much confidence and had returned with our tails between our legs.

After something like a week in Skiathos we left for Mykonos. This was one of the most popular tourist Islands and while we had a great time there we did not find the same hospitality and friendliness that we had experienced in Skiathos. IN Mykonos we did much of the same: days on the beach or walking the streets and exploring everything we could. There were huge numbers of Americans in Mykonos. Some living on the beach for what seemed to be undetermined periods. Our evenings were spent at Taverna’s and coffee shops. There was one restaurant where I was able to find a waitering job for a few days to try to supplement my funds.

From Mykonos we crossed back to Athens. Again we travelled deck class and froze on the boat. In Athens we were again able to use the hostel and I was really grateful for this as I was able to wash my precious Greek shirt. I had not noticed how brown it had become until I gave it a good wash. We had about a week left and decided to take a trip to the Island of Hydra in the south. This was another commercial Island and we only spent one night here. The last few nights of our trip were back at the Hostel. More sight seeing during the day and more partying at night.

I had spent a month in Greece and had thoroughly enjoyed the trip.