Shoestring Road

It’s 2011 and I am 66 years of age. Ordinarily I wouldn’t hasten to remind myself of that, but in this instance I think it’s probably a good idea to establish the fact at the outset and give myself an anchor in reality before I mentally plunge back down the time tunnel of my life and become 19 again.

I have decided to take a journey. I am going to relive the Great Travel Adventure of my youth, country by country, town by town, highway by by-way, retracing exactly the same route I took 46 years ago. The difference will be that this time it will be a virtual journey. The pack on my back will exist solely in my mind, the passport can stay in the drawer, and I won’t need to worry about visas or stomach bugs. I will arrive by Google Earth, look around courtesy of the World Wide Web and leave at the click of a button to spend each night dreaming in the comfort of my own bed. That certainly will make a difference, believe me.

On the 24th August 1964, a few months short of my twentieth birthday, I said goodbye to suburban claustrophobia in Sydney, Australia, and embarked on the Italian liner Galileo Galilei, bound for Bombay, India, from where I planned to travel overland across Asia, North Africa and Europe to England, in the company of my boyhood friend Adrian Sever.

We had dreamed of such a journey since schooldays and prepared meticulously in the months leading up to our departure, researching widely and establishing a number of pen friends along our projected route. Even so, we were largely heading into the unknown. There were no guidebooks for our sort of travel then, and the overland route was still a few years away from becoming the famous ‘hippie trail’ of the late sixties and early seventies. With our youthful enthusiasm for adventure, we were eager to face the challenges of the road, and we were fortunate that the political situation at the time, though in places precarious, permitted most of the borders along the way to be open, providing a short-lived window of opportunity that allowed the bulk of our travel goals to be accomplished.

The journey to England took us just on six months and when we arrived the cultural phenomenon known as the ‘Swinging Sixties’ was at its height. I lived and worked in various parts of London for sixteen months, taking short travel breaks, including a four week period motoring around Europe in an old Bedford van with Adrian and two Malaysian friends.

After various changes of plan we decided to return to Australia in similar fashion to the way we had come - overland, but by a different route except for some necessary or desirable repetition. So began a second great adventure that we had not originally envisaged. This took a further four months, ending in Singapore, from where we flew home, arriving in Sydney to a jubilant welcome from our families on 17th November 1966. We had been away for two years and three months.

In the pre-digital sixties, before mobile phones, internet cafes and Skype, contact with loved ones when on the road was limited to the international postal network, unreliable at best, especially if the stamps were interesting. I kept up a regular fortnightly correspondence with my family while backpacking, and weekly when in London. My mother dutifully replied to every letter she received, keeping track of a complicated address schedule and providing a support system from the other side of the world that I could not have done without.

I also kept a journal, and it is this that will guide me on my virtual journey and form the basis of this blog. It is the voice of an innocent abroad, thirsty for all kinds of new experiences, but fearful as well, and prone to a bit of post-adolescent navel gazing. I make no apologies for that. As I transcribe the journal I will be making the parallel trip, so the voice of the sixty-six year old will be there as well. I will do my best with the photos, but they are mostly scans of slides which have been sitting in boxes for decades, gathering dust and mould and slowly fading like the memories they were meant to evoke. How the conversation between a wide-eyed nineteen year old and his equally wide-eyed incarnation half a century later will develop, and what they still have to learn from their common experience, remains to be seen.

Monday 24-8-64

We sailed for India aboard the TV Galileo Galilei at midnight on the 24th August 1964. The actual embarkation and sailing gave me a unique experience. The feeling was a curious mixture of joy, sadness and fear. Once outside the Heads this gave way to a certain elation, and I was childishly bounding up and down the passageways thinking I had already overcome the unbalancing effects of the ship’s movement. After somewhat apprehensively enjoying my new won freedom for a few hours I went down to bed, did not bother to clean my teeth even, and slept in my underwear. In trying to fall asleep, which took some time, I felt slightly ill for the first time.

Tuesday 25-8-64

Between Sydney and Melbourne - I slept well, but awoke this morning to a badly pitching ship. Being closed in that cramped, swaying, pitching cabin made me feel violently ill and I vomited several times this morning. I tried to eat some breakfast, took a pill, and stayed up on deck, but nothing helped. Most other passengers felt the same I think, as very few were up and about. I felt bloody awful, I hated the sea and the ship, loathed everything about the trip, and was already missing the family as well. If I could have, I would have got off the Galileo and gone home. So now I know what it is like to be both homesick and seasick. After vomiting about 1.30 I went to lunch to get something solid inside me, and I managed to keep that down. The seas had abated and it seemed that the worst was over. I went to see a movie in the afternoon (Man in the Middle with Robert Mitchum) and this I found to be a most peculiar sensation. It was a rather tame film, but I did not mind, as I was quite glad just to be feeling better. I had a good dinner, stayed alright during the dance in the main lounge, and at midnight went down to the cabin. I had showered, shaved and dressed for dinner, which had also made me feel better, and as the cabin was no longer moving I felt I would be able to get a good night’s rest.

Wednesday 26-8-64

Berthed in Port Melbourne - I awoke to a fair day with the ship already berthed. I felt fine and had an excellent breakfast before heading into town with Ade, Tony, Jim and Dave. Probably the most vivid impression we all got of Melbourne was the weird little two carriage train which took us into the city (Flinders Street Station) from Station Pier in Port Melbourne. It was more of a tram than anything else, and was dirty from one end to the other; typical of Melbourne we thought, and we were right, it is a filthy city, with even the new buildings covered in grime. We wandered through Treasury Gardens, took a few photos, saw Cook’s cottage, and looked through their two excellent cathedrals (St. Paul’s CE and St. Patrick’s RC). The priest we met in St. Pat’s allowed us to go up onto the roof and into the main spire, which gave us an opportunity for some unusual photos and some panoramic views.

We took a taxi back to the ship for lunch and remained on board until tea time. We returned to the city after dinner, went for a tram ride, became terribly bored and went back to the ship. We were sick of Melbourne already. I suppose we were rather unfair, since we only saw a small section of the place, and none of the supposedly better areas. We were cynical and downright arrogant. We acted foolishly. However, considering the traditional rivalry between Sydney and Melbourne, what else could we do? We were all pretty bored. There was little or nothing doing on ship and we were not looking forward to the following day, also to be spent in Melbourne.

===Ozac 2011===

I was certainly making a rather hasty judgement on Melbourne and expressing a very parochial attitude. The irony is that I would later live there for three years and then work there for extended periods on a number of occasions after that. I love Melbourne. It is a totally people friendly city, easy to get around, great parks, galleries and eateries, and the only city in Australia with a proper theatre district. It gets better every time I go there. Even the weather isn't as bad as people say and the autumn is marvellous. I got to ride on that same little train almost every day for a couple of years, working in South Melbourne. It never got much cleaner, but I noticed that every time there was a big liner in port they put on a smart new train for the day to create a better impression. Must have happened after we left.

Thursday 27-8-64

Still fine, and quite warm out on deck. I spent most of the morning out near the pool, doing nothing, and then after lunch went into the city with Ade, Jim and Dave. We roamed around some more, then got back to the ship by four, as we were due to sail at 5 pm. The ship was full of visitors and we were feeling rather proud and boastful, being passengers, and seasoned travellers at that. We laughed to ourselves at the emotional scenes and thoroughly enjoyed watching the visitors and trying to pick out the new passengers. We had fun catching and throwing streamers to those onshore, laughing and calling out to them, and generally acting like schoolboys. We sailed on time, and after dinner there was a dance, which was quite enjoyable. It was a most peculiar sensation to be dancing on a rolling and pitching floor. Things slowed down for me about twelve, so I went to bed.

Friday 28-8-64

Enroute to Adelaide - This morning on deck I was treated to a most beautiful sight; we passed between Kangaroo Island and the mainland, and the sun shining on the rolling green hills and the beaches was truly something I had never seen before. It made me realize that we were now really on the way to beautiful exciting places. Deva (Peter) Singh, the Indian chap in our cabin, who has a farm near Jullundur in the Punjab, and is a Sikh, has given us the first experience of Indian hospitality by inviting us to stay as long as we like, all expenses paid, on his property, which is apparently rather large for his district. He has told us he has the biggest house in the village. He is a naturalized Australian by reason of his father being such, is very proud of it, and speaks English with a very broad Australian accent, which he picked up while working in the banana and cane growing areas. One of his fingers is missing (bitten off in a brawl, he says), and he looks a bit like a dark Barry Jones (so Ade says). He said he would like us to go straight with him to his home when we reach Bombay, but as we have to go to Poona first this would be impossible. I like him a lot, and although I would not impose in regard to ‘all expenses paid,’ I think we will definitely take advantage of his hospitality for a few days.

We berthed at Outer Harbour, Adelaide, at 4-30 pm, and took the train into the city. I like Adelaide. It is spacious, somewhat quaint and provincial, and a very relaxed looking city. We could only stay an hour or so, so all I got was a very general impression, but I like it very much. We returned to the ship, seven of us, for dinner and a most boring evening of gin rummy. There was quite a farewell as we left Adelaide for Fremantle, but third time round was souring a bit, so I did not stay out on deck to watch the ship pull out. The most exciting thing about Adelaide was arriving. The dock was in a most picturesque setting, and the tugs pulling us in would have made an excellent photo if I had had a colour film.

Saturday 29-8-64

Crossing the Bight, enroute to Fremantle - Out here at sea time means nothing. Today is Saturday, but it could be any day of the week for all it matters. With no land in sight, the ship is just an island in a seemingly endless sea. There seems no reason to record time, as there is nothing to relate it to. And so I lose track of the hour, the day, and later, perhaps the month. Whether it is night or day does not even seem to matter. The sea at times is hateful, sometimes boring, and sometimes wonderful. It has been difficult as yet to see the overpowering force of the wind and the sea, as they have stayed reasonably calm. Neverthless, perhaps I will yet experience the awe-inspiring might of the elements.

Sunday 30-8-64

This morning I awoke late. Strange to wake up at 11 am to a dark room. Wrote my second letter home this afternoon, and played my first few games of deck tennis.

I feel I am now completely adjusted to the movement of the ship. It can get as rough as it likes now, I can take it. This evening, about 5 pm, we sighted land for the first time in two days. It was a beautiful sight. I am not sure whether it was a group of islands or the W.A. mainland, but at that time, with the sun just beginning to redden the sky, and the wake of the ship glowing an intangible turquoise, this misty land on the horizon could have been anywhere on Earth. It was the first glimpse of the kind of thing I have dreamed about.

Monday 31-8-64

When I came out on deck we were approaching Fremantle. It was exciting to think that this was to be my last day in Australia. The overseas terminal where we docked was very large, and very new, much better than Sydney. A whole group of us went in on the bus to Perth, and I was somewhat apprehensive of this, right from the first. As the day wore on, the usual indecisiveness of large groups made it most frustrating. We must have wasted hours. I could not change my pounds in the city, as there was nothing less than 10,000 lira notes at any of the banks. We had lunch in King’s Park, which affords superb views over Perth. It is a beautiful city, even more spacious and relaxed than Adelaide seemed to be; clean, warm and friendly. My only objection is an occasional artificial quality in its buildings. Whereas Adelaide, for example, has created a genuine atmosphere with its many quaint old buildings, Perth seems to have created a somewhat pseudo atmosphere, with architectural styles borrowed from elsewhere, (example: London Court [Elizabethan], Tech. College [Norman], University [Spanish], Town Hall [German Gothic?]). This must have been a phase it passed through, as its newer buildings are excellent. Nevertheless, I like Perth very much and I would enjoy returning one day to see more of it. At about 4 pm we took over the lounge of the King George’s Hotel and had a swinging, drunken party. Once I overcame my natural quiet reserve, I had a wonderful time, even though I went through about three days living expenses. I will feel the pinch during the rest of the trip to Singapore. It was a Good-bye Australia party, and we sang Waltzing Matilda all the way back to Fremantle in the bus and into the terminal. Back on board we quietened down and I went to bed with a headache. I believe the ship pulled out two hours late, because of wharfie trouble.

Tuesday 1-9-64

Enroute to Singapore - Stabilizers are in and the ship is rolling a lot as we try to make up lost time. They have filled the swimming pool, and passengers stand around gawking as if they had never seen one before. The sun is beaming, an excellent day. The Indian Ocean is like glass, with only the even swell moving the ship. Life is terribly easy at the moment, a wonderful feeling. The food is becoming somewhat monotonous. It is all too spicy and not enough variety in taste. Some clean, plain Australian food would not go amiss. Blast that bloody front tooth of mine! It came out finally in Perth, and I can’t stick it back in again. I think I will wait until India, and have Dr. Kale fix it (free?). I am yet to see a sunset at sea. This is one thing I have looked forward to very much, but it has always been too overcast at sunset. This evening I thought there would be one, but it never fully developed.

Wednesday 2-9-64

Today a complete change has come over the ship and everyone on board, all due to the weather. We are steaming north now of course and the weather is becoming more tropical by the hour. Whereas yesterday people were wearing winter clothes still, today everyone is out on deck in swimming costumes and summer gear. The atmosphere on deck is how I imagine a Riviera atmosphere would be - relaxed, playful, friendly, sunny, with deck chairs and swimming pool, umbrellas and drinks, sunglasses and sunhats, accordion music in the background, and above all, a cosmopolitan harmony. That’s what makes it so exciting to me, complete harmony among all the nationalities on board: Australians, Italians, Greeks, Germans, New Zealanders, English, etc..

* * *

The sun, a huge, shimmering golden circle, is making its final appearance for the day from behind a grey, low bank of cloud. It is huge and brilliant, and rims the surrounding cloud with gold so as to make a regal exit into the sea. The sea is composed and waiting, and when the sun is fully ready he falls with the greatest dignity into her depths. The sea does not murmur, but there is an empty sky. Such is the sun’s daily duty, and so it was today. Full five minutes later the sun comes to life again. The grey cloud thins, the sky glows orange, green, yellow, pink and blue, all light radiating from the point where the sun sank. The black blue sea reflects all these colours. All these colours merge into a deep golden fire. I saw this sunset tonight. It is what I have been waiting for. The first such sunset I have ever experienced. I am watching it still. The blue black and the gold deepen by the minute. There is nothing to clutter it. It is a merging of the elements. The sun, the sea, the sky, the clouds. I am still not satisfied. It has not moved me fully. Perhaps it is the ship in my background. To experience it fully it would be necessary to be alone on the sea. The gold is gone, the day is dead, the night is born.

Thursday 3-9-64

In two days we have passed from wintry weather into humid tropical conditions. Out on deck it seems difficult to breathe, the air is so full of moisture. We have now left Australia well behind, and tonight we will be passing through the Sunda Strait, between Java and Sumatra. Sometime tomorrow we will be crossing the equator. Trying to forget the people on the ship for a moment, I look out to sea, and everything seems so different and so full. I can imagine World War II battles being fought in these waters, and ships being sunk, and men struggling for their lives in the sea. Not far distant, Java and Sumatra, scenes of Japanese atrocities, and now trouble spots of South-East Asia, teeming millions, and a completely different environment to the one I have lived in. All so very close. The air is different, the horizon is haze, the experience is all so very new.

Tonight I have been sitting out on deck talking frankly to the first interesting person I have met on the ship. At about 12 midnight, lights appeared out to sea, one on the port side, and two on the starboard side. They were Indonesian gunboats following us. After about half an hour they dropped astern.

Friday 4-9-64

Off Indonesia - At ten o’clock this morning we had the crossing of the line ceremony, although we are not due to actually cross the equator until later tonight. It was a messy, sloppy affair, and got a little out of hand. Rather a pointless business, but it is traditional. We passed dozens of small Indonesian islands during the day, and occasionally saw a small fishing craft in the distance, only just discernable through binoculars. At four in the afternoon, Ade and I went up to the bridge. The heat and the glare were shocking, but the view and the clean quiet efficiency of the whole set-up made it worthwhile.

The Captain was there, and Ade faked a shot of me apparently being shown something by him, even though I was several feet back from him and a female passenger. Ade wanted me to try the same with him in the shot, but I am not sure whether it will work out.

I went to bed quite early so as to be able to get up at five for our arrival in Singapore tomorrow. We will be crossing the equator late tonight and the day has been steaming hot and humid. The sky and horizon were hazy and I did not enjoy staying out on deck too long. The sunset was quite something, with the islands dotting the sea, and the clouds, creating a beautiful sight. Note: I saw some flying fish from the bridge in the afternoon.

===Ozac 2011===

The Lloyd Triestino ship TV (Turbo Vessel) Galileo Galilei, launched in 1961 to commence service in 1963, is now sadly at the bottom of the sea. After a couple of name changes under different owners she became the Sun Vista, and during a cruise in South-East Asian waters she caught fire on the afternoon of 20th May 1999 and sank 9 hours later about 60 miles south of Penang, at a position we would pass close to within the next 48 hours. Fortunately there were no fatalities.
She was a magnificent ship, built for the migrant run between Genoa and Sydney and, in alternate monthly sailings with her sister ship the TV Guglielmo Marconi, carried many thousands of young Australians, such as myself, on her return voyages to Europe during the sixties and seventies.
There was a chilling moment, when I came upon the website www.drmike.smugmug.com which contains a remarkable series of images of the encrusted wreck, lying on its side in 70 metres of water in the Malacca Strait. There were the very wheelhouse windows I am looking out of above, and the starboard side bridge wing and compass, the mirror image of the port side one in the photo with the Captain. It was an eerie feeling.

Saturday 5-9-64

At Singapore - I rose at 5.30 am and went up on deck, just in time to see the rising sun. The lights of Singapore attracted my attention more however, as this was our first overseas port of call. We took the pilot and customs officials aboard about 6.30 am and proceeded to our berth. Then came the announcement; “Singapore is a closed port at the present time and no passengers in transit will be allowed ashore”. This came as a complete shock, and at the time, with Singapore stretched out before us, oriental, fascinating, it could not have been worse if we had been asked to abandon ship. I had been in a state of slight nervous apprehension about landing in this strange foreign city, and I was glad that this feeling passed with the announcement, though I feel it will only delay it until Bombay. Nevertheless, as the thought of missing Singapore settled in, I became bitterly disappointed. We passed several small islands on the way to the dock, and they were covered in tropical jungle and native Malay style houses. There were also some bombed out ruins and some prosperous looking British Colonial homes. It was all so picturesque and definitely how I imagined Singapore would be. There was a fishing village on stilts over the water, and motorized sampans making their way up the harbour. I tried to imagine the time when the Japanese had invaded the island and had patrolled these very shores and waters. The experience was already so strong and yet it was so frustrating to think that it was not to be completed. We had come so far, and were so close, yet we were to leave without seeing it. From various sources we learned the reason for the ban. Last night there had been renewed outbreaks of racial violence in the city, many being either killed or injured. Malays were fighting Chinese, and the riots were apparently instigated by Indonesian infiltrators who had been parachuted in the night before. The whole of the city had been declared a danger area and a state of emergency was in force. A twenty-four hour curfew was imposed and it was, and still is, impossible to move about without a curfew pass and a police escort. No one except disembarking passengers could possibly leave the dock area. Singapore was having big trouble and we had arrived in the thick of it. There was so much I wanted to see, do and buy, but impossible. About 12 midday we were allowed to walk around the dock area, and we took full advantage of this small concession. There were some World War II sunken hulks in the water on the other side of the dock, some distinctive architecture, and plenty of Malays, Chinese and Indians working on the wharves. They were very friendly and talked freely of the trouble, especially the smartly dressed police. I went on board a tug and talked with the captain, a Malay, for a while. Some of the others gave money to some small children, through the wire fence, but it disgusted and embarrassed me to see them being so patronizing, as if they were feeding animals at the zoo. It was exciting to see the typically attired native workers, and it is definitely the people, and not the change of scenery, that make you realize where you are. Another complete tour of the docks after lunch found us eventually aboard the Lloyd Triestino ship T.V. Asia, which was in port at the same time, enroute to Hong Kong. Much older and smaller than the Galileo. We returned to the ship and she sailed at five pm, six hours early. Singapore was a fiasco, a disappointment and a cheat. Thousands of miles to see a confined dock area, interesting though it was. We could not buy any cheap goods, so we lost money on that score. I can hardly wait now until I disembark in Bombay. I am sure I would have loved Singapore and its people, so I will come back one day to see it and stay awhile. Tonight we are sailing up the coast of Malaya, and Ade tells me we have just passed Malacca, on starboard side. Sumatra is to port. Five more days of partial monotony, until this new life of independence and experience which I have tasted begins to fully bloom.

Sunday 6-9-64

(In the morning the Galileo passed west of the spot where, renamed the Sun Vista, she was to sink some thirty five years later, at 1.22 am on 21st May 1999. Ozac 2011)

In the Malacca Strait - Today everyone was still somewhat dejected over the Singapore fiasco. Everything was dull and there was just nothing to do. I was very bored. Late afternoon we rounded the northern tip of Sumatra and, as the seas began to rise, we sailed into the Bay of Bengal. No land now until Ceylon.

Monday 7-9-64

In the Bay of Bengal - Worse than yesterday. No land in sight and nothing to do but eat, sleep, sit and talk. I am glad I will be disembarking at Bombay. I do not think I could stand another fortnight. The sea has many moods and is a great elemental force, but no matter where I have travelled in the last two weeks, the sea has looked the same, with the possible exception of the equatorial area, where everything was hazy and still. The sea outside now looks exactly as it did when the ship was crossing the Great Australian Bight, yet we are not far from Cape Comorin, the southernmost point of India. The only thing that makes one realize that one is getting somewhere is to make stops at foreign ports. To Fremantle it was fine. To Singapore it was fine, but then what happened? No one got to see Singapore but from a distance. The whole trip so far seemed pointless, and the prospect of another five days at sea, without land, was not an enjoyable one. We are now three days out from Singapore and I am bored stiff. If I could realize just exactly where I am on the earth things would be different, but for all I know I could be anywhere. When I disembark at Bombay I know things will change, and I will begin to feel the fullness of experience, which I began to taste in that frustrated glimpse of Singapore.

Tony and Jim, 2 days to Bombay, 12 days to Genoa

Tuesday 8-9-64

The veil of boredom lifted for a short time this morning as we rounded Ceylon and headed north for the western coast of India. It settled down again as we lost sight of land. I could not realize it was the Ceylonese coastline. Ade and I packed our London bags last night, and this morning we took them down to the baggage room. We now have only the rucksacks and their contents left. Late tonight, as I came up on deck after a documentary film on India, I saw the lights of India for the first time. I do not know exactly where we were, but there were many lights, and it was India.

Wednesday 9-9-64

Tomorrow morning we will be in Bombay and today we could see the Indian coast all day. It still could be anywhere. This afternoon we sorted everything and packed our rucksacks, which were bulging with cigarettes and liquor. The day passed uneventfully, but I could feel myself coming to life again as we approached our destination.

Thursday 10-9-64

We came into Bombay at 4 am this morning, so when I awoke we had already berthed.

It was very strange to go to sleep at sea and to wake up with the city of Bombay sprawled around. From the deck I immediately noted the Gateway of India away to the left. The sight from the ship was not how I imagined Bombay to be, it was more like I imagined an Arab port to be. We left the ship once again with the gang, though I felt somewhat reluctant, but it was our last day with them so I persevered. We took a horse drawn vehicle into the city, eight of us, and paid 10 rupees - highway robbery! We found the American Express office, collected our mail, and wanted to leave our rucksacks there, but to no avail. They told us the best place to leave them was in the baggage room at Victoria Terminus (V.T.). We walked a mile in searing heat to do this, but were rather worried after we had booked them in, as the security did not seem very strict. With the load off our backs, we then wandered up and down the streets experiencing this foreign place. At this time I was feeling a little apprehensive about the future. We made our way back to the Gateway of India and the nearby Taj Hotel, a fantastically elaborate building. The Gateway seemed an impressive waste of money. It must have cost a fortune, and to what purpose - so the King and Queen could walk beneath it. At present, hundreds of homeless people sleep under its arches.

The Gateway of India

Bombay seems to me to be one of the worst places on God’s earth. It is huge, crowded, chaotic, old and filthy. To feel alone there is a terrible feeling, and this is how I felt on that first night, as I fell asleep in that barren god-forsaken hole the Salvo’s call a hostel. Outside was a teeming city of four million, and not one of them did I know or trust. For the most part they seem to live in the worst poverty imaginable, and one million of them sleep in the gutter. Beggars followed me everywhere on the street, and I was frightened of them, and embarrassed, when I refused them and they persisted. I feel it will take some time to overcome these feelings. Although I feel very insecure at the moment, I know there is no going back, and that I must accept and face up to the reality of my present position and make the best of it.

===Ozac 2011===

“Although I feel very insecure at the moment” was something of an understatement! This first day in Bombay I remember as being the worst of the whole trip. For a start, we were sweltering in jeans, boots and army surplus long sleeved shirts, carrying heavy rucksacks on our backs, cameras round our necks, water bottles on our belts, and trudging miles in scorching heat looking for somewhere safe and cheap to park the luggage and spend the night. We were fending off persistent hordes of beggars, hawkers, rickshaw drivers and black marketeers all day. Many of the beggars were horribly deformed. We were stepping around corpse like sleeping bodies covered in flies, on every filthy pavement and public place. We were appalled by the odours, the poverty and the disease, and could see only endless days of such surroundings stretching in front of us. Insecure? I think I was probably terrified. Where I wanted to be was back on board the Galileo, and if I could have sailed away from this bad dream I would have thought boredom at sea was bliss. But I knew that wasn't going to happen.

In a pool of light on an almost deserted Apollo Pier that night, trying to catch the fruit raining down before it split open on the concrete, feeling a bit like the target in a sideshow, and putting on a brave Aussie face for our smiling Mediterranean bound compatriots at the rail above, my stomach was turning over, but that icy beer on a string, like bait on a hook, was too much of a temptation, and I quaffed it back with abandon to show them how confident I was. No wonder I then had to lurch into the half shadows and bring it all up.

Back in our dismal cubicle at the Salvation Army Hostel, which I see is still in business a stone’s throw from the Taj Hotel, we stretched out on hard narrow cots listening to a hacking cough from the other side of the low partition wall and watched the fan revolve slowly on the ceiling. We didn't say much. All our years of dreaming and months of planning had led us to this moment of utter despondency, as we finally comprehended the reality of the challenge ahead.

We needed a lifeline, and fortunately we had two, in Poona, not far to the south. Ram Kale, a recently married dentist who had studied in the United States, was Ade’s pen friend, and I had been corresponding with Nuruddin Khambata, a university student. With them there was the promise of sanctuary until we could acclimatize, and so it proved to be.