It's too nice to continue

Don't worry, I haven't packed in. Just for the day, that's all.

I left an undistinguished, if memorable little town, called Pemba, this morning at about 6 am just as it was getting light. 60 km later at about 11am I arrived in Choma, a much livelier town with more to offer. I've pulled into the town craft museum which is in a pretty, little park bathed in warm sunshine. The air is dry and clear with a fresh southerly breeze. The sky is a perfect blue. Anyway I rang Judith this morning and she says Nick is getting on with my window-cleaning today, so it must be at least decent on the island. Long may it continue.

I've just had a delicious if terribly slow meal under the park trees. As usual I got into conversation with some local guys (from Lusaka actually) who work for BASF and who had a T-bone steak, nsima and veg each. Nsima I haven't taken to but Zambians seem to love it. I've heard it likened to wall-paper paste but that's unfair, I think. It's made from maize flower, is white and looks a bit like wet Polyfilla. It's generally eaten with the fingers and mixed with anything else on the plate. I've had some and it's OK. I guess if you are brought up with these things.... The guys from BSAF, Jeremiah Shakubanza and his two friends, were particularly interested in the cost of my trip. A back-of-a-fag-packet calculation got it to about £3000.00. Other people have asked similar questions probably wondering how the hell I manage to swan about for 3 months thousands of miles from home. I guess it just indicates the wealth gap between nations and how lucky we are.

I met a lovely old gent and his wife yesterday. I stopped for a breakfast of peanuts, biscuits and Coke at about 9am after a couple of hours cycling. They were farmers but had started a little grocery stall and restaurant (opening soon) by the road-side. He was born in 1936 and had done well with his agricultural studies. In the early1980s he'd won a bursary to study further in Wolverhamton. He told me about it with great enthusiasm. He'd become a fan of Wolves, who, he said, were a top club then. I did a bad Brummy accent for him and it cracked him up. It obviously brought back happy memories. After Wolverhampton he was sent to study combine harvester maintenance in Leipzig in the old GDR. Kenneth Kaunda courted the Soviets then and vice versa, I gather. He was equally positive about his stay there and we compared notes on Dresden. He said that after church on Sunday in Wolverhampton they'd be taken on outings. With a laugh, he remembered one where they were taken to the sea-side and how both men and women would strip down to their swimming gear and frolick in the water together. Ah, decadent Aberystwyth.......

Just before Choma, where I am now, there was a rare distance sign saying Livingstone 200km. That's 2 days cycling after today, so I should clap eyes on The Smoke That Thunders on Friday. Zambians speak very fondly of Vic Falls and urge me to go there. I'm looking forward to it but not the touristy stuff that's bound to be there.

Last night's stop was Pemba. My morale dropped as I rode slowly through the town - only about 400 yds long - out the other side  and back again without spotting a single sign for a Lodge, as hotels are known. I called at a grocer's for bread with a view to inquiring. A man next to me at the counter saved me the trouble by asking if he could help me. He said he'd take me to his cousin's lodge. It was only a few doors away but, as well as being dirt-cheap, it was ..... dirty. No matter, "There's another across the road". Snap! "Let's try the one by the police road-block" he said, "the local MP stays there." Fine. We strolled up the road together, he with his last-born son on his back and me wondering why he didn't take me there in the first place. I gathered from the conversation with the large motherly manageress, in the local language whose name I forget, that they were full. Bugger ! I put on my crest-fallen look, which was quite easy and looked at her in pathetic desperation. "You could sleep in the living room if you wanted". I told her that was the best suggestion she'd made in her life, or words to that effect. So I moved in. Not only that but she caught my bike with one hand when it fell over as I unpacked; she carried my bags in as if they were weightless and then fetched me a plastic bath of  hot water for me to have a wash. The bathroom was full of fancy plumbing but it just lacked mains water. My room was probably the best in the house, a good 30 foot long with 2 sofas, 2 arm chairs, a TV and 2 beds. And all for a tenner (80,000 Kwatchas). I then strolled into town for a beer in a bar. I was obviously spotted because when I went next door for a bite to eat the only other msungu in town, a lovely school-leaver called Nina from near Aachen was ushered in for a chat. She was a one-year volunteer at the end of her year. She'd worked in the kindergarten and local health clinic. She'd had a good year but was clearly looking forward to going back home. So an unpromising arrival in town turned into a pleasant evening. Africa is full of surprises.