man down

The change of route has led to a change of heart. Neil has struck out alone to conquer the faraway lands of Syria, India & Nepal. Last seen hitching a ride in Jordan; destination unknown.

Bon voyage!

*NEWSFLASH*

The sharp amongst you may have noticed that we have taken an about turn and are now reluctantly heading south.

Having spoken with the security services at the Islamabad consulate we have taken the tough decision to alter our original route. The developing situation in Pakistan has created a huge question mark with regard to our chances of being admitted to this warring nation, which when combined with a void personal insurance policy our only remaining reward looked distinctly unappetising – kidnap!

Our new route will see us head into Sudan, Ethiopia and Kenya. If we’re honest life couldn’t get much better – sun, sea and sand.

house sitting

For all you out there considering an overnight stay in a Bedouin tent then I suggest you begin saving now. However, if like us you happen to trip over one late at night in the Wadi Rum National Park then grasp this golden opportunity with both hands and enjoy the comfort that they provide.

Needless to say the tour guides were a little irate when they discovered us early the next morning.

the name’s Jones

Our bad luck continues – we found Petra shrouded in thick fog.

dinner time

Any country whose national dish is also served upside down and held in equally high acclaim is a country worth visiting!

jordanian wares

Amman’s packed streets provide even the most cynical amongst us with an unforgettable shopping experience. Take the florists for instance whom have clearly been plagued with problems arising from stocking perishable items. Many have chosen to remove the element of risk in its entirety and now choose to sell plastic flowers, plants and trees – ingenious.

However, one stall left me a little unnerved. The enterprising individual in question proudly displayed a pair of muddied army boots, a balaclava and an urn. I can only presume all the above items were purchased at the house clearance of an unlucky rebel who gave his life whilst fighting a lost cause.

priceless

After spending three consecutive days at the garage we were unsurprisingly adopted by the vast variety of workshops that surrounded our immobile car. If you too have an unfortunate incident involving a head gasket and you chose to head to Amman to complete the repair job, you will no doubt be greeted with countless photographs of ourselves – a pretty picture I can assure you.

For all you sadomasochists out there please find the costings detailed below:

Recovery bill – £160
Head gasket – £35
Cylinder head skim – £15
Repair of old radiator – £15
New radiator – £100
Oil change – £35
Labour – £75

If anyone chooses to add the above figures together please be sure not to bother informing us.

gormless yet downright dangerous

The recovery driver was a little unfortunate in his choice of face. Initially we were rather charmed by his gormless blank outlook on life however we soon realised this was a particularly dangerous combination in his chosen profession.

Our view from the Land Rover, which was now perched perilously on the rear of the truck was somewhat limited and left us a little nervous with regard to the events which were now beginning to unfold in the cab. After just two hours we became distinctly aware that we had begun to veer wildly across the road onto the hard shoulder. However, thankfully the truck soon came to a shuddering halt in a small village, where we shakily dismounted from our perch to enquire about our rather erratic drive.

Clearly desperate for the cash the driver had forgotten to mention that he had yet to go to sleep and with another 4 hours ahead of him he was becoming more than a little sleepy. Our resourcefulness has yet to fail us and within minutes a solution was born which would enable the driver to get some much needed rest whilst still retaining some essence of forward motion.

In this instance the two willing participants were Ollie whom nervously gripped the huge steering wheel and Tom whom attempted to take charge of the gears. As the two novices fished for lost gears and lurched around slow moving vehicles the driver silently slept; confident in his passengers’ ability.

Remarkably we survived the six-hour, 300km journey.

burn baby burn

We set off to the Wadi Rum National Park in high spirits and joyfully spent the following hour listening to Motown and playing hangman.

Our serenity and good mood was soon shattered with a yelp from Neil. He reluctantly informed us that the temperature gauge was leaning firmly to the right indicating the water temperature was deep in the red. Silence descended upon the car as we nervously watched the temperature gauge twitch uncontrollably – unfortunately it was all a little too late as the damage had already been done.

The outside of the Land Rover was streaked with trails of burning coolant and we were soon engulfed by an ever-increasing cloud of steam. Even the most positive amongst us were resigned to a rather expensive search for a new head gasket.

doctor strangelove

The night was in full swing as we departed the ferry into Jordan. Having consulted our small and rather dismal map of Aqaba we set off along the south coast in search of a quiet area to camp.

After driving for 7km we pulled off into the King Abdullah Gardens where the shop lights still blazed brightly. Sofia – the shop attendant – soon woke as we plodded toward his slumbering body.

His initial offer of free camping soured somewhat when he informed me that I would first have to complete a favour. Normally I am more than happy to complete a task based request in return for financial gain, however, this favour made me feel rather uncomfortable and deeply aware of my apparent lack of finesse when communicating with the opposite sex.

I’m not entirely sure how true Sofia’s claims were of his status as an English doctor’s plaything however in order to guarantee a free nights sleep I’ll believe anything! It was soon explained that I would act as a translator for this love lorn gentleman and where possible provide a little input as ‘I knew what an English woman would like’ – I found the latter statement reassuring and so ploughed headlong into the task in hand.

However, my rather gung-ho approach and rash proclamations of love and marriage were not appreciated. After numerous attempts, many suggestions and some rather bizarre input from Sofia the following message was both constructed and lovingly sent:

‘My dear Lauren. I want you to tell me your date of birth so I can make you feel special. I wish I could kiss you all over my bum. My wife I send a million x.’

Something tells me Sofia won’t be hearing from his English Rose.