The Olive Route (The Olive Series Book 1) by Drinkwater Carol

Author:Drinkwater, Carol [Drinkwater, Carol]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780752881393
Publisher: CBC Books
Published: 2013-04-16T04:00:00+00:00

Libya

My visa allowing entry into Libya as an independent traveller had proved impossible. No agency or tour operator was willing to assist me unless I hooked up with one of their programmes. The country had recently reopened its doors to tourism, which in a low-key way was doing well. Sanctions had been lifted; in March 2004, Tony Blair had flown to meet with Colonel Gaddafi, outside Tripoli, making the first British state visit in years. But there was still no channel, save with a tourist organisation, to gain entry and I had no desire to be herded about in a bus with a group, shepherded by guides. I flew to London and tried the few contacts I knew in the British travel scene. The messages came back that to gain entry I must agree to lay out a detailed schedule, which I had not precisely planned, and travel with a group. Eager as I was to visit this ancient coastland, I was contemplating skipping Libya if this proved the only option available, yet there were sites there that had been closed off for decades. I wanted to see them, to understand their role in the growth of olive culture. I decided to call upon the offer made by the Scotsman I had met in Djerba. Duncan was neither surprised nor fazed when I got in touch. He requested copies of my documents be faxed directly, assuring me there would be no difficulty whatsoever in securing the necessary entry papers. Fax operations took a couple of days because connections were erratic, but eventually I furnished all that had been requested.

‘Give me a week,’ was all that was now required of me. And, lo and behold, nine days later, I received a message saying that my papers had been cleared and a copy of the visa would be faxed forthwith. I could board a plane. Rushing about at the last minute, I could find no small token of gratitude for the burly Scotsman. Alcohol is forbidden in Libya – possession of it is an imprisonable offence – so transporting a bottle of fine whisky was out of the question. He did not strike me as a man who read books. I didn’t know his musical tastes, and I did not feel sufficiently well acquainted with him to arrive with aftershave. I fired off a last-minute email asking whether he had any particular requests. His response was instant: ‘A few wee rashers of bacon for breakfast.’ Bacon! I was taken aback and friends who heard were horrified that I should entertain such an idea: to travel pork into a Muslim dictatorship. But after all that he had achieved for me, how could I refuse? He was even offering me a place to stay; without a tourist visa, booking hotels was exceedingly complicated. So, a few ‘wee rashers’ seemed to be the least I could do. I confirmed with my guidebook and with the airline that the importation of foodstuffs was not deemed an illegal act akin to the smuggling of alcohol.

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