Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
We flew AIRASIA in Nov 2008 from Macau to Bangkok.
During the demonstrations in Dec 2008 were held up
could not fly out of Thailand.
AIRASIA.COM simply closed their offices, as there were many
From a close Thai friend I know the Managing Director of ThaiAirasia
prefered to spend his time in his resort in Khao Yai.
She even spoke to him asking him who to contact at his offices
To no avail. All numbers were not responding, we held on for
hours and hours.
THAI TOURIST ORGANIZATION officials were trying to call.
Airasia's offices had moved, noone was sure where exactly they were located.
Thousands of Baht spent by cab to find them. Again, all proved futile.
Emails were NOT answered, till today no email had been sent.
Although their system allocated an official complaint Nr., we never heard
one word from them.
Our money is stuck with them, our time has been wasted.
After one week left Bangkok on 5th Dec. via land route to China,
thereby occuring substantial additional expenses.
Now we are taking this matter to the web, hoping other passengers
will come forward who faced the same problem with AIRASIA.
This Airline is a junk Airline.
The fact that we were insured for Travel delays, cancellations,
does not have any effect.
Pushed from a Malaysian telephone center back to the
Thai offices of AIRASIA, the rest is known.
Get us our rights, AIRASIA.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Daloa, Man to Gbakpleu, Border Cote d'Ivoire - Guinea
.. Setting off after breakfast early morning, the road still stretches a few hundred mil
Daloa, Man to Gbakpleu, Border Cote d'Ivoire - Guinea
.. Setting off after breakfast early morning, the road still stretches a few hundred miles westward to the border with Guinea. To travel early has many advantages : For one the dreadful Gendarmerie and Douane checkpoints and barriers are mostly unmanned, and secondly the temperature is still bearable.
The land is lush with green, a fruit basket - the entire country. On the way we pick up a ton of pink grapefruits, whatever we could take, a real bargain.at 15 cents a kg. I found grapefruits to assist in many ways, it has many nutritional values, and is a natural antibiotic and a Flavonoid.
We reach the town of Man at 14.00 PM and ask directions to the border, which according to my map should be about 30 - 35 miles away.
It is mandatory in this region to call on the local police station to report your itinerary. The Police in Man is just wasting our time. Nobody cares and we move towards direction of Guinea.
A nasty feeling overcomes me when I notice the changing of the road surface, till now we had tarred roads; from here it turns into a rusty red, unpaved rough country road, full of potholes. Used to bad street conditions I try to brush my ill feeling aside only to be overwhelmed by it again later.
The Policeman standing on the road asking us for a lift looks decent and I invite him in the car with his AK 47 . A welcome guide, protector in case of a problem. Not long after, we experience the first heavy downpour on our trip.
With near zero visibility we move through the tropical storm, I am now fully alert, envisaging the things to come.
In no time the road has turned into a network of miniature lakes and waterholes, making it difficult for the vehicle to pass.
At speeds of 20 kph we inch along through the rain, avoiding the massive pools. We pass villages which lie like paralyzed, everyone seeking shelter from the storm.
Coffee plantations along the way, with deep red coffee beans being visible within the foliage, a beautiful sight I recall.
As we encounter our first hundred feet stretch of lake we cannot bypass, our guide, the policeman volunteers to wade in front through the lake.
The rain drenching him in seconds, he has to show us a shallow place to pass. We manage the first one, but I have a notion that things will get worse, and they do.
A village is being cut off by a torrent stream, the road washed away. The makeshift road which serves as a diversion is not much better, we find ourselves in the middle of the village with everyone staring at us with curiosity. It is not everyday white people find their way in these remote parts.
Through the center we drive and find back to our road on a cattle trail, which is hard to maneuver on. And always striking me is the immense beauty of this country, even under such a stressful situation, The beauty of Africa is unsurpassable, has its charm, no doubt.
The dream is short lived, we find more trouble ahead; a truck has blocked the road, sunk his axle deep in the mud.
Loaded to the brink, if anyone can understand the term, unknown in western parts those trucks are being overloaded to their allowed max. payload.
And amidst all this, the driver and his mate attempt to lift the truck by means of a hydraulic jack. By now the downpour had stopped, we get down form the car to watch the spectacle.
People shoving and pushing the 20 tons plus without results, the jack lifting up the back axle, wheels grinding the vehicle miraculously finds its way out of this morass, the driver knew where to jack up.
I still cant believe it, the truck actually moves ! Wonders happen. With the bypassing truck and people shouting in excitement we continue our journey.
As our wheelbase is shorter we pass unhindered by the sump that has developed where the truck had dug his tires into.
It is 5 PM when we reach a long stretch of horrible looking morass; it makes my heart come to a near standstill.
Deep tracks left by the first truck, I cannot imagine how I can possibly pass this, more than 300 feet long.
We get out from the car and reckon how to get through this, everyone has a good advice, at the end it is me who has to drive us through.
10 minutes it takes me to draw up courage to move ahead, right into the huge mud puddle of water.
And I must admit at the time I am still a novice. The inevitable happens, the vehicle gets stuck 20 yards later.
Everyone is on his feet, giving me a push forward, only to see the wheels digging in deeper and deeper into the soft laterite.
Smelling burnt rubber from the tire friction, I begin to panic, I know the forest dusk sets in at 6 PM, and here in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by tropical virgin rain forest, not an ideal place to spend a night.
Something, some miracle must come our way if we should make it out before dark. Personal safety is a concern, the location near the Liberian border, a triangle of three countries, Liberia, Ivory Coast, Guinea.
The route is being used by smugglers, Armed Robbers, Bandits and other Anti Social Elements, and life does not mean a lot here.
Kneeling under the vehicle I notice the chassis stuck on the ground. The carjack is of no avail, we dig with our hands, cutting our skin with the tiny, sharp stones buried in the red soil. All attempts to free the car are fruitless.
A family of forest inhabitants appear, 10 heads with the Patriarch in the lead, all push the vehicle, it does not move one inch forward. Noticing the nervousness of the Natives which I am not sure how to interprete.
The only way is to get a tractor from the Agricultural station 10 miles ahead to pull us out.
The female family members leave, the Patriarch staying behind, it really is a nice gesture. As predicted, dusk sets in at 6 PM, the forest is shrouded in darkness.
An awesome feeling, sounds of the jungle awakening around us.
All sorts of thoughts come to your mind, what will happen, how do we get out of here ? Normally what would be a scenery for a documentary, but we are captives of a mighty forest of unknown dimensions. The gigantic trees around now look ghostly in the night sky, only the fireflies illuminating the dark.
Mosquitoes buzz around me in thousands, but here I find the difference in being a Vegan.
I am not suffering a single bite, the Mosquitoes not being drawn to my "bad-tasting" hemoglobin. To breed their eggs they look for carnivores, and those next to me keep on slapping their ankles and exposed limbs continuously.
Having waded in the rain water, I roll up my trouser sleeves above the knees. All is a mad scene, the trousers are drenched in mud. In midst the lukewarm, red muddy water, my Timberlands get caught in the sticky mud, and in the dark - never to be found again.
I am now bare feet except the plastic slippers I have in my car, a somewhat cheaper version of footwear.
It is 7 PM when I see a hush of a beam pointing towards the sky, behind the hill in the forest ahead of us, roughly 400 meters away. And rightly we hear a car engine revving its way up towards our position. Whoever has come here must be able to help us to get out I figure.
The car stops on the other side of the puddle upon noticing that we block his way, I was wondering how a Peugeot 504 Caravan,, full with 12 passengers and Cargo could make it through this and I couldn't.
The driver coming over and inquiring about the problem, laughs and calls his 12 passengers to help. With combined efforts, 14 grown adults pushing, the engine reversing, we pull back to where I started from. The driver will cruise his 504 through the mud and will show me how to move my car through the morals..
In excellent fashion he steers his rust bin through all the puddles, sinking so deep that I can't believe he will make it, yet he passes, his engine roaring high. I wonder what is worse, the Paris - Dakar Rally or this here, settling for the latter.
He smiles, then comes to me to give me the secret. Coming from a mountainous region, I have driven on slippery, icy roads before, turning half way down a dangerous mountain in Winter. But this is new to me, I succumb to my African teacher.
He explains when entering the mud, press down the accelerator, turn the steer hard towards the embankment, thus keeping the vehicle in a semi-upper position, and the car won't get stuck.
It made sense to me, and the experience showed he was right. With him on my right side I take the stretch in a few minutes, the car jerking and pushing through all the way. Our savior is obviously happy that he had shown me some bush sense. Amidst thanks and a small token in form of money the driver continues his journey, it is 8 PM when we continue our trip.
Next I notice the ignition warming indicator light turning red, indicating a problem with the alternator.
Now being pitch dark, I decide to continue towards the border. Not far from where we are we also notice the steering going harder and harder.
Upon all this we find a puncture in my rear right tire and I have to change the wheel, like it or not. Again, on a slope, I stop, in the middle of the dark, dangerous rain forest; to attempt to change the wheel when I notice the sound of another car coming from affront. This one is sent by the our Companions to help us, nearly 3 hours after they set of on foot.
It really is a relief to see my companions in this awkward situation. They help me to get the spare tire and we continue, and I am informed that the border post is only 3 miles away now. Just then it begins to drizzle again. when we reach the Soldier post, the rain is again pouring.
We took 8 hours to travel 25 Miles but the sight of the Army post lifts up my spirits high again this evening.
The Ivorian Army maintains a border post here, the 'Capitaine' an Officer and a gentleman.
Upon introducing ourselves, he invites me to stay for the night, his outpost lit by Kerosene lights.
He has also instructed his lower charges to prepare hot water for us and I have my forest shower under the nightly sky with the rain drizzling on me in the process.
I can't express the relaxing emotion overcoming me this moment, after all the digging and profound physical efforts. This shower, in midst the jungle, under open sky and in the rain is what I recall today.
After we are invited to join the commander for dinner. I am hungry and I must say that Ivorians do have a 'cuisine', here, in these remote parts.
Beef simmered in pea nut butter sauce, capsicums spicing the dish, and steamed rice. The dish tastes wonderful. On this occasion I bring out 10 pink grapefruits and distribute them amongst the soldiers.
They have built new barracks here and I am given a new barrack with a bed. I am grateful for their hospitality.
The steam of the jungle, its ever present sounds around everywhere, the rain hitting the Metal roofing sheets , it is hard to find sleep. Tossing and rolling in my bunk, my thoughts go back and forth, what will tomorrow bring, on this journey to the unknown....
Next Episode : Longest road to Nzerekore
A journey to the unknown, by HR.