Travels With My Friend



Barbara Wood

 
© Copyright 2025 by Barbara Wood
Photo courtesy of the author.
Photo of Chris fooling around courtesy of the author.

My husband died, but dwelling on that is still painful. I was lucky to meet Chris, who is my travelling companion and he makes me laugh. He is a little eccentric. I think he was born in the wrong era as he likes everything that’s old: old films, old books, old furniture, old hotels. I like old, characterful hotels too, but I always have to check the star rating before he books as the days when I didn’t mind ‘roughing it’ are long gone.

Early on, when he was still trying to impress me, he took me to a swanky hotel in Prague. He was so nervous he drove through a red light on the way to the airport and nearly crashed the car. But Faginesque in his long, woolen coat, the inside pockets stuffed with all manner of things, he has never looked so smart.

Chris and I are so fortunate, not just because we are baby boomers. About one in twenty safari trips in Indian wildlife parks succeed in spotting a tiger. On our trip to Ranthambore, as soon as we entered the park, our guide spotted a tigress pursuing a deer. We followed the chase until she eventually gave up on the deer and prowled around right next to our landrover for a while. She was hungry, but we were lucky as she wasn’t a man eater. She just posed for some photos before moving off.
 
The big news story of the day was about the body of Richard III being found in a car park, straight away in the first place they put their spade in the ground. Chris equated the two experiences saying that seeing a tiger on our first game drive, immediately on entering a wildlife park in India was as lucky as that.

Sometimes luck runs out. We were looking forward to a trip to Cairo and a cruise down the Nile when the inconsiderate Egyptians had a revolution. We took up the offer of an African safari instead.

In the base camp hotel we frequently heard squeals and screams as the resident vervet monkeys, true to form, jumped onto hotel balconies and snatched bags of snacks from tourist’s hands.
 
We were resting, half asleep on our beds after dinner when one impudent little fellow swung into the room looking for booty. I sat up to shoo him away, but he stood his ground and showed me a very nasty looking set of yellow, potentially rabid teeth. Instinctively I leaped to my feet, grabbed a chair for protection and, like a lion tamer, faced up to the intruder and saw him off the premises. I have no idea where that came from! Chris was still lying there, but now his eyes were wide open. I don’t know if he was more scared by the monkey’s teeth or me with the chair!

At the end of the holiday the travel company was on the brink of bankruptcy due to the loss of business in Egypt and the poor hotel staff were not being paid. Amidst the chaos at Mombasa airport and in spite of a group of queue jumping, vodka drinking Russians with hotel towels round their necks, we managed to board our flight home before the airline realised they were probably not going to be paid either.

Some travel tips….
Waiting to check in to the Jasper Inn, Alberta, the woman in front of us was asking for an upgrade. To Chris’ embarrassment I decided to try my luck. We got to stay in the Elke Sommers suite, which had been the home for six months of the German actress during the making of the 1990s TV film series Destiny Ridge….
 
So ask for an upgrade. The worst they can say is ‘No’.

When you are on holiday I think it is best not to carry valuables you don’t need out and about with you. I’ve always locked my passport, return plane tickets and extra cash in the hotel room safe. On an early holiday with Chris I suggested he do the same, instead of carrying everything in his bulging pockets. He picked up the safe and carried it across the room to me.

‘Do you mean this safe?’

Later some friends told me they lost everything on holiday when a thief made off with their safe….

Make sure your hotel safe is not portable!

On a special deal we went to Sri Lanka, primarily because Chris wanted to stay at the Gal Face, an old colonial hotel where everyone and his dog had stayed, as evidenced by old movie stars and celebrities looking down from black and white photographs on the walls.
One day, as we walked out of the hotel, a local man fell in with me as they tend to do with gullible tourists. He started to tell me of a special festival that was taking place that very week and kindly offered to show us where we could get tickets, suggesting that we get into a tuk tuk with him. The man was holding my arm and I had one leg in the tuk tuk when Chris dragged me away.
 
He told me the story of a friend who was offered a boat ride to a ‘special festival’ when he was travelling in Nigeria. As he was being rowed further and further down the ever widening river, away from civilization the wiley oarsman told him to hand over his camera, and then his wallet and his watch. He complied. With a vision before him of his bloated body being found washed up in some lonely place, weeks hence, he flipped over the side of the boat and swam for it. Chris wondered how he managed to get back to the hotel?
 
‘Ah, I always carry an extra few dollars in my sock’.
 
That’s another tip. Always carry some money in your sock.

(In fact there was a special parade in Columbo that week; the Buddist Navam Perahera with dancers, drummers, fire eaters and much more. We did feel sad for the elephants though; beautifully caparisoned though they were, they wore chains around their legs.)

On the continent of Europe they don’t know how to make tea. I mutter, just like my mum used to do, when given a cup of lukewarm, milky Lipton’s with hardly a hint of a tan. In the South of Italy one year, with my limited Italian, I tried teaching an Italian barista how to make tea;
  1. Warm the cup first. (Unfortunately it has to be made in the cup as they don’t have teiere, just caffettiere).
  2. Make sure the water is boiling when you pour it onto the tea
  3. Let it infuse then just add a little cold milk.
The poor man tried so hard, mad though he thought I was. He brought me a cup of hot milk, a glass of cold water and a Lipton’s tea bag!
 
An Italian friend sympathised with him. ‘Ma e davvero complicato preparare una tazza di te nel Regno Unito’.

I told her ‘If you think it’s complicated here, try China. You can take a university degree in tea ceremony there’.

While it’s nice to go on holiday it’s also nice to come home. At breakfast on the last morning of a trip to China we overheard another Brit’s comment to his wife spoken in a thick North of England accent.

‘Ave enjoyed eet, but al be glad t’ get back ‘ome t’ some proper grub and a proper bed!’

*****
Dad gave me my values and somuch more. It was from his example I learned how to be a parent and, of course, he encouraged me to get the best education I could. I followed my aunt into the nursing profession, eventually becoming a midwife and then a health visitor. This caused me to move from the West Midlands of England where I was born, first to Southampton and then to Edinburgh where I now live.


Contact Barbara
(Unless you type the author's name
in the subject line of the message
we won't know where to send it.)

Another story by Barbara

Book Case

Home Page

The Preservation Foundation, Inc., A Nonprofit Book Publisher