thumbs up the bet

Thumbs upp, the bet.

Allright, it's time for a final update from uncle traveling Phil on the quest for India, and my holy mountain.


When me and Jogeir made the decision to get rid of the car, split up and make a race to India. Me going trough Syria and Jordan to Israel to catch a cargo-ship from Israel to India. And Jogeir joining a Canadian guy named Jordan going trough Iran and Packistan. With the looser having to Tattoo the winners name some where on our body to make the whole bet more interesting.

I was shore the Holy land would help me on my way, thow it turned out to be slightly harder than I expected. So I jumped on the first bus down to Capadocia in the middle of Turkey to with a couple of Interesting American guys I meet in Istanbul. And it was all worth it. Capadocia is by fare one of the highlights of the trip with probably tousands of ancient houses and churches carved into the sandstone pillars in the arya. The first day one of the americans got sick so me and the other one went hiking the arya by our self trying to avoid the other torist's. We hiked around, finding old, un tutched settlements, eating fruits from the trees and discovering the arya feeling like Indiana Jones. This making us feel like true adventures we desided to climb a sandstone mountain to get some good scenery from the top. And it ended in a true survival experience, almost getting couth by a earth slide, and having to get rescued by a local park ranger.

This kind of scared the americans of a little bit, so we desided to split up, me going on by myself. And there I was, by myself again. Alone against the world. From cappadocia I took a couple of busses, and did some hitchiking down to Antakya at the south of Turkey, spending a night at a shitty cheap hotel. The next day I ended up first being hussled by the money exchanger, and then by a friendly guy selling me a fake buss ticket to Aleppo in Syria.
So when I got to the buss station I was told that my buss did not exist and I had no money left for a new ticket. This actually pissed me off a little bit, making me burst from one agent to another until I meet some turkish speaking guy who took my passport and told me to wait on the spot.
So there I was. With no money, no ticket and no passport, thinking that I really screwd up this time. Looking at a worst case senario. But before I new it, my turkish speaking friend came back with both my passport and a new ticket for a buss leaving ten minutes later only carriyng a hand full of passengers. And a whole lot of black suspect garbidge bags full of tobacko, or so they said.
And after about ten minutes of driving I started to realise that I had become a part of a smuggeling operation. Witch actually turned out to be a good thing.
The effect of this turned out to be bennefittial for bought parts, since the smuggelers were keen to get as quick as possible trough the border they told me to give them my passport and an ten dollar before they dragged me around the border control finding the one corrupt agent, giving him my money and passport, getting it stamped in less than five minutes, while the other tourist's spent hours getting trough.

Finally I was out of Turkey and I felt sequre again.
Sinse my money was running out, I did not have to much time in Syria, but from what I saw, it is absolutely a country I will visit again. Despite all the media propaganda the western news is serving us the people in Syria is some of the friendliest I ever meet. Showing no sign of violent behavior at all. Even thow they burned down the Norwegian embassy in Damascus not to long a go, they showed me as a Norwegian full respect, and a big curiosity about my culture.
So from there on I kept on my travels ending up in Amman, Jordan. Where I got the honour of seeing a modern Muslim country at it's prime. Also there I was welcomed as no were else. To go out on a restaurant was an experience like no other. I did not have to pay for one meal, since it was impossible to enter a restaurant with out one of the local families forcing me to eat from their food, joining them at their table. This also a country I will return to one day to see more.

Still, the urge to win the race to India kept me from spending to long time in this country, and before I new it I was back on the road. Heading for Israel. I had a pleasant crossing at Sheikh Hussein Bridge getting frisked by a bunch of cute girls, so after about an hour I was trough the border entering the Holy land of Israel.

In Israel, I went strait to Haifa to visit my good friends Gil and Yael. And there I started searching for a boat to India. At the beginning I sent out a lot of mail's to different shipping companies hoping for a answer while traveling israel. My friends have taken me to the Golan highs, giving me a fantastic tour around the north of Israel, Whine tasting,, swimming in volcanic hot springs, and teaching me about the history of the aria. They also took me to the dead sea where I had a good time splashing around in big salty waves having a blast. I also got the honour of cellebrating a propper Hannuka with theyr family's. And then I got to now the owner of the Norwegian seamans church in Haifa who took me to see Joshwas Alter in mount Ebal, giving me her point of view when it come to the middle east conflict. And from there she took me to the south of the westbank ending upp in Jerusalem for christmas time.

In Jerusalem I met some of the nicest people on this trip who ended up joining me to Bethlehem for Christmas eve. And celebrated one of my best Christmas until now on the birth place of Jesus Crist.
And to end it all I celebrated New years eve In Tel Aviv with to grate Swedish friends of me before meeting up with my child hood friend before take of.

I must say, that my quest for India and my inner mountain took me somewhere else that I expected, showing me things I could not be without. My money have ran out, and I have no money left. And the last I heard from Jogeir he was in Pakistan close to the Indian border. So I guess I lost the race, but as Colombus did before me, I think I found my own India in Israel. So I am looking forward to get back home taking my painful tattoo saying ''Jogeir Daae Maeland '' sincierly knowing that this tattoo will represent probably the best journey of my life.

I've found some love, I lost some love, got kicked out of a country. Being kicked out of a hostel. Got some good friends and one enemy. The to last ones for a girl. Bribed some costom agents and now I am going home to write a book, and to see about a girl.

Phil.

First chapter. The Mercedes

Eg og Jogeir Daae Mæland bestemte oss mandag, for at i dag var dagen for å haike til India på lykke og fromme. Til vår store begeistring bestemte Knut strand og Holdt & Sønner AS seg for å donere bort en bil til vårt edle formål, og etter litt pakking og planlegging var vi snart på tur mot det ukjente. Turen ned til fagernes gikk som en drøm, så vi tok turen innom Valdresen for ett raskt intervju før vi reiste videre mot gjøvik for å ta farvell med venner og kjente samt gjøre unna litt handling før vi for alvor begynnte turen på. Men første mål var å komme oss ut av Valdres.

I det vi kjørte ut av Valdres og nærmet oss dokka stoppet vi bilen for å fyre opp vår første seiers-cigar. Men i det samme øgonblink som Jogeir kappet sigartuppen og tente ligtheren hørte vi ett smell og gjentatte flapflapplyder fra motoren mens samtlige lys på dæshen lyste opp vår tilværelse. Etter gode råd fra Vegard Hammerstad satte vi da klampen i bånn for å komme oss til Dokka før bilen døde. Det gikk, men bare såvidt. Innen vi nådde gatelysene inn mot dokka hadde vi mistet både lang og kortlys. lysene på dæshbordet begynte å fade ut og blinklysene var lite sammarbeidsvillige. I det vi rundet hjørnet på den første bensinstasjonen døde også vår motor. '

I Dokka møtte vi på mange trivelige mennesker som prøvde å hjelpe. De fleste erklærte Merca død. Vi trodde også at bileventyret hadde kommet til en brå slutt, men takket være vår hovedsponsor Knut Strand fikk vi ordnet det så Kjell Sirirud ved vekstedet MB-deler skulle gi oss en god rabatt på deler og arbeid om vi møte opp på verkstedet dagen derpå. De hyggelige menneskene som kom for å hjelpe tauet bilen bort for oss. Mens vi fikk overnatte hos en grepa kar ved navn Andre Kallekleiv.