Meat on the table

Travelling so much can be challenging.  Yes, you get to see and do some very amazing things, and I wouldn't trade any of the experiences I've had, good and bad, for anything, but I've seriously complicated my life in the process.  Passports and work visas and international tax laws and maintaining immunizations, which differ greatly from country to country, take a great deal of your time.  Different countries have different rules, different procedures, different languages and customs, all that you should strive to learn if you are going to spend any length of time there.  I'm sure it's all old hat to the guys who have been doing this international touring year in and year out, but the novelty of it all hasn't worn off on me yet.  The multitide of challenges becomes addictive, and the nomadic lifestyle tweaks something in one's soul.  I do believe I'm getting better at the packing, but I still take far too much.  Every job is different and you don't wish to be caught short.  Some places you can pick up anything you could possibly need locally. Turkey has malls to rival Toronto, and others, Mtwara comes to mind, you had better come well prepared.  Typically if a base is already running, you can find some sympathetic soul that'll offer advice on what to bring.  Advice for Mtwara ranged from "don't worry about it, they'll put you in a pot and cook you anyway" to "bring all your own food for an entire tour", with the next guy telling me eating locally was fine, which turned out to be the case.  No invites to over-heated hot tubs yet, but I'm only two weeks in.

 I was told to bring something to keep myself entertained as there is very little flying, so I brought my guitar.  I've maybe picked it up once.  I'm very glad I brought a mask, snorkel and fins though!  Trying to narrow down everything you need to function, plus work related items like headset and uniforms and work shoes, for a six week stretch, and fit everything into a package that make all the transits manageable, has been a chore.  It's easier if you are posted to the same base and keep returning, as you can leave items behind, and know exactly what you need, but that hasn't been my situation at all.  Not yet anyway.  And good luck trying to find an underwater camera in Mtwara!

Last night was a treat.  In hasn't rained in I don't know how long, and the volleyball court is getting very dusty, but the counter-piracy dudes joined in and everyone had a great laugh.   The flying has been spectacular as well, as there is little doubt as you look down at the dense bush, sand roads and white landrovers, and huts and palm trees, that you are seriously in Africa, but I'd give anything to see an elephant walking through the brush.  A kudu, an impala, some water buffalo, wildebeast, zebra, giraffe, anything! One place we go for lunch is said to have monkeys in the trees from time to time, and despite hanging out there a great deal, so far all I've seen are numerous dogs and one snake, and that was at the hotel I live in. I want to see a monkey. 

The social aspect of touring is a suprising benefit as well.  Here you are, in the foreign place, with very little English spoken by the locals, with crew members with very similar experiences, all dealing with the issues of being away from home for months at a time, all dealing with living in an enviroment quite different than their homes, but the backgrounds vary enough to provide some very entertaining conversations.  You are working with people from France and Finland and South Africa and Ireland and Uzbekistan and Australia, guys and gals who have flown Search and Rescue in the high artic and hearded cattle with helicopters in the outback and who have fought in Iraq and Afghanastan and guys who have toured the far reaches of this wonderful blue ball of ours for decades.  The stories and conversations are stimulating and enlightening, and one cannot imagine the personalities this lifestyle brings to the table.

For all the adventures, I still feel a little like an imposter, because I would rather be home.  Perhaps Livingstone just wanted to be home as well, just another bloke putting meat on the table, whatever it took, and for him, that meant putting one foot in front of the other across unexplored Africa.  I doubt he played volleyball, but no doubt he enjoyed the evening conversations around the campfire as much as I do now.