lifestylesupportguru

Category: Culture

Travel Tips 3 – Car on Fire!

Indian Ocean

Well, beloved believers, here I am, with the sound of the Indian Ocean whispering gently in the background, once more offering you support and succour in your search for success and salvation in this sometimes sad state of existence. In other words, I hope to make you smile!

I realise that I have not yet explained how DOT’s car almost caught fire, so I shall give advice on avoiding such a catastrophe. (For those who may be new to the Lifestyle Support Guru, DOT is a sibling known as Dai Of Tanzania. The other accompanying sibling is TOFU, or Trefor OF ‘Ull.) In addition to motoring matters, I shall be advising on the essential look to cultivate this season when in an EXTREMELY HOT place.

Both male siblings are extremely practical people and I am always pleased when they find

Pet rescue

themselves a project because it means they will leave me in peace to play Pet Rescue rather than taking a brisk walk in the searing African heat. This particular project involved the simple task of putting the battery back in DOT’s 4×4 – it had been on charge all night after being drained when helping someone else start their car with jump leads (I sound as if I know what I’m talking about, don’t I?). I am happily ensconced on the computer and can hear the contented chatter of siblings outside as they do a passable imitation of Jeremy Clarkson (only nicer). Suddenly, I hear TOFU cry out, ‘Open the bonnet! Open the bonnet! It’s on fire!’ I rush to the door to see smoke pouring from the engine while TOFU and DOT are doing their best to remove the battery, which had shorted because of an exposed wire (I still sound as if I know what I’m talking about). It all ended happily, with the exposed wire replaced and the car running smoothly, if smelling a little bit like the day after Bonfire Night.

Masai

Now, with regard to matters sartorial, I have to inform you that, not surprisingly, the LSG has been attracting many glances since arriving on the east coast of Zanzibar this morning (I cannot think that the glances are anything but admiring). The ‘look’ is easy to achieve – simply take a gentle stroll along the white sands in the heat of the midday sun, then speed up a little to get away from the ‘genuine’ Masai trying to sell you anything from a ‘genuine’ Masai bracelet handwoven in the factory down the road to a ‘genuine’ Masai Manchester Utd football shirt knitted by ‘genuine’ Masai grandmothers, and all of this sales pitch accompanied by the constant repetition of ‘Hakuna Matata’, which has probably never been heard outside the West End or Broadway.
You will arrive at your destination (a beach bar, of course) with the PERFECT ‘look’, which will be admired by svelte Swedes, nymphlike Norwegians and delicious Danes, all of whom will be imitating the ‘look’ tomorrow – red face, sweat dripping into your beer, hair resembling a pan scourer. You’ll know you’ve made it when one sibling looks at you, laughs and says, ‘Are you sure you like hot climates?’ The answer, of course, is ‘Hakuna Matata’!

Enjoy your weekend and think of me suffering the trials and tribulations of another day on white sand, soothed by the murmuring of the sea in the background. It’s a hard life, but someone has to experience it. All I need to say is: Tatou Kilimanjaro barridi, taffidali.

Travel Tips – East Africa – Transport and Toilets

Tanzania sunset

Hello again, dearest devotees! Once more, I am here to help you negotiate your way as safely as possible through the maze that we laughingly call ‘life’, so I am going to continue using my experiences here in former German East Africa to guide you. My main topics today are TRANSPORT and TOILETS, although not necessarily in order of importance and not excluding other topics which may crop up as side issues. For those of a nervous disposition, I shall not be discussing TOILETS in more detail than is absolutely necessary.
TRANSPORT is essential if one is to participate FULLY in local life – in other words, if one wishes to visit the local bars. The easiest (and cheapest) form of TRANSPORT is the piki-piki. This is a small motorcycle with a 150cc engine – one perches delicately on the back as the driver skilfully weaves in and out of three lanes of traffic. By ‘three lanes’, I do not mean that there are three lanes on your side of the road, just that the one lane on your side has three lines of traffic on it! Such fun! And to add to the thrill, you are not required to wear a helmet and there are pretty vicious speed bumps at irregular intervals along the road. Your mind wanders to thoughts of how to explain to your insurance company just how you came to fly gracefully through the air as you hit a large pothole.
However, all this is eclipsed by ‘the dismount’: everyone else (i.e. your two siblings) seems able to dismount from the piki-piki quite effortlessly and stylishly, but there is one person who has not quite mastered the art – her dismount involves balancing on her left foot on the ground, gripping the driver’s left shoulder hard while swinging her right leg in a less-than-graceful arc over the back seat of the piki-piki and taking two or three staggering steps before standing upright – this occurs both before AND after visits to the local bars (so those of you putting this down to the effects of alcohol will have to amend your suspicions). Piki-piki drivers queue up to take this particular passenger because of, as one sibling delicately put it, ‘your big tips’. (I think that’s what he said.)

Tuk Tuk

Now, I haven’t even mentioned the tuk-tuk or the almost-destroyed-by-fire Suzuki Samurai, but I am afraid they will have to wait for the next post because I feel I am running out of space to talk about TOILETS and I believe this is something I need to address, especially for those who may be considering a visit to this part of the world, in particular my female followers.

toilet

TOILETS, I am sure you will agree, are an essential part of one’s daily life and I have now learned not to trust one particular sibling when enquiring as to whether a bar will have a ‘proper’ toilet or an African one. He doesn’t really know (since, to be fair, he doesn’t frequent the ladies’ toilets as a general rule), but bases it on how much a beer costs – the more expensive the beer, the more likely it is to have ‘proper’ toilets. (As a rule of thumb, this does NOT work!) A ‘proper’ toilet will have a bowl and a seat. An African one will involve rolling up your trouser legs to avoid getting them wet as you squat over a hole in the ground while trying to maintain your balance (see piki-piki story above). This is all GOOD FUN! And that, I think, adoring acolytes, will suffice insofar as detail about TOILETS is concerned.
I leave you this evening with the thought that my understanding of Swahili is increasing by the minute: BBCSwahili is on the TV in the hotel bar and I have understood so much: ‘Tanzania’, ‘Zambia’, ‘SkyTV’, ‘Manchester City’, ‘Arsene Wenger’, Donald Trump, so much more…
Hakuna matata!

Entertaining The Masses

Tablet Search

A very good evening from the Lifestyle Support Guru! This well be my last post before heading off to the Dark Continent, so I thought I would leave you with a few words about entertaining the masses whilst educating them in Welsh culture at the same time. As ever, I think I may be leading the way where others merely follow.

Occasionally, when I get fed up of writing quiz questions at home, I go to the pub with my tablet (not my tablets) and work on questions there – I like a change of scenery now and again. If there are people around, I sometimes test the questions out on them and here was the latest conversation, which involved a certain little Yorkshireman – who has appeared in previous posts – and three or four other people, all of a similar age. The questions were on children’s TV:
Me: What were the names of the Tweenies?
Yorkshireman: I don’t know, but I can remember the name of the dog. It was Doodle or something like that.
M: Doodles. How did you know that?
Y: I used to watch it all the time.

I then do a little bit of searching on t’internet and find the Tweenies didn’t start until 1999.

M: How old were you in 1999?
Y: 39

Silence from all around as they imagine an unmarried, childless 39-year-old watching the Tweenies. He then lost any further credibility when he was unable to name the series which opened with the line: ‘Here is a box, a musical box, wound up and ready to play.’

Someone else then asked who links the Deputy Marshal in ‘High Noon’ with an underwater TV series (I still haven’t worked out the connection between that and the Tweenies). Much scratching of heads until we are told that it was Lloyd Bridges in ‘Sea Hunt’ – everyone looks suitably puzzled because we’ve never heard of it. I then ask who sang the theme song to ‘High Noon’ and suddenly everyone joins in with “Do not forsake me, o my darlin’” and we are having a jolly little singalong!
It was just like being back home after a rugby match!

Now picture a Sunday night at the same local (which I’ll call the Coach and Horses for reasons of anonymity) which runs a quiz followed by a few games of Sticky Fingers. For those who are unaware of this highly entertaining method of losing money, it’s basically like Bingo but with playing cards. When you are down to your last card (of 13), you shout ‘Sticky Fingers’, just to let everyone else know that you may be close to winning a life-changing amount of money (usually around £30) and, therefore, a prime target for mugging on the way home. Last night a young female had volunteered to take the landlord’s place as the ‘caller’ because he had hurt his arm (no, I wasn’t quite sure how that would affect his ability to call out the cards either, but that’s some men for you…). The young female had imbibed a few Jagerbombs during the evening and was having a jolly time calling out the cards – for example: ‘The nine of spades… oh, sorry, that should be the nine of hearts.’ An easy mistake to make!
Just to make things even jollier, I thought it would be a good idea to teach her how to say ‘sticky fingers’ in Welsh – ‘bysedd gludiog’ – a first for Derby and, possibly, the whole of England! She then refused to accept any calls if they weren’t in Welsh – such larks!

I may try Swahili in a few weeks’ time! Multiculturalism is alive and kicking in the Midlands! Good evening, one and all! Nos da, bonsoir, usiki mwema.

Ask the LSG – hate my job!

London Bus

As some of you may have read, I have been asked to help with a problem by one of our secret group and I have given much thought to this. Basically, Bruce has a problem with his work – he doesn’t like it! In case you didn’t understand his London accent in his post, I shall translate for you:
“I am currently in a job I hate. I get abused and spat at by the public who treat me like dirt. Being a London night bus driver is a very dangerous job and the public don’t even have the decency to abuse me in a language I understand! The management always take the side of the disgruntled passenger; indeed, any incident is the driver’s fault. This is mainly because the management wish to reduce the wage bill as there is a massive influx of EU workers in London who are willing to work for little more than minimum wage . So why do I do the job? £40k plus overtime, free family travel, free uniform and a half-decent pension.
So my question to the lsg do I continue wiping the spittle from my brow and think of the money or move on and be poor but potentially happier and have more chance of living on a state pension one day?”

Money

Well, Bruce, there are several ways of looking at this. Let’s take the positives first:
1. The MONEY!
2. The PENSION (which also counts as MONEY)!
3. FREE family travel (this also counts as MONEY)!
4. The UNIFORM – everyone knows that all the girls like a man in uniform! (This also counts as MONEY because you don’t have to wear out your own clothes – except for underwear, of course, but we’ll leave that subject alone for now).
5. Spittle is FREE (if unpleasant), so this doesn’t cost MONEY!

Welsh Flag

Now, the negatives:
1. You have problems with the language in which you are being abused. There is a very simple answer to this – learn WELSH and answer them back in a language THEY don’t understand (unless you happen to get a Welsh male voice choir on the bus one night, in which case you’ll be covered in spittle anyway because of all those ‘ll’ and ‘ch’ sounds)
2. The management always take the side of the disgruntled passenger – having known you for a number of years, I have to ask if you are being too nice to the management instead of showing them what a REALLY disgruntled bus driver you can be? Your father (aka The Rottweiler) didn’t bring you up to be pleasant to everyone, now did he?
3. You have tried being poor before – and you didn’t like it!

Rottweiler

Taking everything into consideration, I would go with being extremely unhappy but reasonably well off and wait for the state pension to be added to your bus driver’s pension – then you can travel round London for free, abusing as many bus drivers as you like (in WELSH, once you have learnt it) and being a nuisance to the management by showing them what a REALLY DISGRUNTLED passenger is! Your life will then be complete and you can sail off into the sunset (because you will now be able to afford a small dinghy), knowing you have upset as many people as possible!
I hope this answer has helped

Tourist Review – Barnsley

Well, dearest devotees, today I am going to tell you about a hidden gem of a town in England called BARNSLEY. Why BARNSLEY? you cry. Why not? I cry back. (If you really want to know, I’d never been to Barnsley and there was a special offer on at Travelodge!)

Barnsley UK

So, youngest sibling and I head northwards (after he’d come southwards the night before) and after a tour of Barnsley suburbs – unexpected, thanks to youngest sibling reading his Google map upside down – we arrive at the hotel but are unable to go to our rooms because we are early. To pass the time, the receptionist entertains us with a story about a regular customer who, even when he no longer needed to come to the hotel, would call in and visit just to see the staff because they were so friendly (quite true!).
Having enjoyed this little tale, of which I understood only half because it was delivered in a strong Barnsley accent, we set off to have a look at a local tourist attraction, a working flour mill – highly recommended by the receptionist (at least, I think she recommended it, but I may have been wrong). There were some raht trouble at t’mill, however – there were no parking spaces left!
We set off in search of another attraction and found Wentworth Castle, where we were accosted by people dressed in 1920s costumes because they were doing a Murder Mystery afternoon. Great fun and not only that, they had jam sandwiches on the menu in the café – never seen that before!

Jam Sandwich

Upon our return to the hotel, we ask the receptionist about the possibility of getting a taxi into Barnsley town centre to find some refreshment:

“Taxi? TAXI? Eeh, there’s a bus stop just oop t’road, if tha desn’t mind paying £1.20.”
Off we go to the bus stop, although it cost us a whole £1.50 to the bus station – the receptionist has obviously not used the bus for a little while. And Barnsley was absolutely MANIC! People everywhere, music everywhere, fish and chip shops everywhere! Everyone seemed to speak in loud voices, which is not surprising, given the loud music, but I soon picked up the local language and learned to ask for ‘Twarves’ rather than ‘Two halves.’ People shouted at each other from one pub to another (there are lots of pubs very close to each other) in a form of local greeting:
“Oi! Oreet?”
“Aye! Oreet! You?”
“Aye! Grand!”
After a few Twarves, we headed off to a Chinese restaurant recommended by a friendly bouncer and found ourselves in a rather wonderful parallel universe where we were served by a lovely couple of young Barnsley women. The conversation during the meal went something like this:

chopsticks and bowl

Waitress 1: Would you like any drinks?
Sibling: A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, please.
W 1: Is that the white one? I haven’t worked here long and I can never remember.
S: Yes, it’s the white one.
Me: And could we have chopsticks and bowls rather than plates and knives and forks, please?
W 1: Ooh, how wonderful! I LOVE it when people use chopsticks – I LOVE watching people use chopsticks to eat! I’ll watch you eat all your food!

Luckily, she was busy serving other customers when we were eating, so she missed the bit where I spilt hoi sin sauce all down my front!
Waitress 2 didn’t, though…

Waitress 2: Vanish!

At first, I thought this was an order to get out because I’d made a mess, but she was just recommending what to use to get rid of the stain!

In the meantime, all the other customers, who were complete strangers to each other when they entered the restaurant, were by now on first name terms and swapping addresses, having become best friends over the course of the meal. We were also best friends with the waitresses by the end of the evening, especially when one found out I live in Derby, because that’s where

Heart

her boyfriend goes to uni – I almost expected her to ask if she could come and live with me!

And there you have BARNSLEY, beloved followers! Don’t ever let anyone tell you Yorkshire people aren’t friendly – they LOVE people… and they LOVE talking! I HEART BARNSLEY!

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