(New Zealand) Long way back

Despite our desperate denial that the trip was almost at it's end. The only thing between us and the soil of the homeland (not mine but you get my drift) was a 48 hr stint on various flights. First flight was from Windhoek to Johannesburg. The international airport in Windhoek is about 40km outside the city and it seemed like there was a fixed price to get there, but Dan and I had been busy asking the local taxi drivers around to get a better price. We got hold of a guy which gave us a decent deal and we agreed that he would pick us up on the day of our departure at a certain time. Luckily, we also got his number just in case. On the day of our flight there was no taxi in sight. We waited about 20 minutes and then called the taxi guy. Sounded as if he was asleep but he was on his way, apparently 10-15 minutes away. Another 20 minutes went by and still no sign of him. As we were considering a plan B, he finally showed up. Good thing we always leave plenty of time to get to airports etc. If there is one thing that Dan and I consistently agree on is that we hate to be in a rush to catch a flight. Off we went once the taxi guy had taped over all the taxi-related numbers on his car. We figured it was a way to show that the taxi was engaged in case any other people were trying to wave him down.....although that theory didn't hold up since we still picked up another passenger? We didn't care as long as we made it to the airport.

About halfway to the airport, there was a military checkpoint. No big deal we thought, although we started to get a sense that something was not quite right when our taxi was pulled aside. A furious looking military guy was  screaming at our taxi driver and waving his arms in anger. Wooh "What the hell is going on?"(the French guy Thomas' favorite expression). The military guy switched language to English, probably so that we would understand as well. Apparently only taxis with special permits are allowed to drive to the airport (that explains the fixed price!!!) Oh oh, now what? The public shouting went on for another minute or so and I was trying to think of what we should do if we were dumped on the road and our taxi had to return. The outlook wasn't very promising. Actually being dumped there would not at all be convenient!!! BUT I think the military guy realized the same thing and after his shouting and anger venting he let us continue, although our driver had to surrender his driver's license to the angry guy......presumably only temporary. I felt a bit bad that our driver had gotten into trouble and he wasn't all smiles after that. Seemed slightly concerned....who could blame him really. We tried to make up for it with a bigger tip although it didn't sum up to much since we didn't have much money left (and we wanted to keep some for supplies).

Finally at the airport we finished our trip in style with our "supplies" (ie chocolate and diet coke:)) that we consumed happily while waiting to board our first flight of five.
Travel route back: Windhoek-Johannesburg (1.45 hrs), 7 hrs stopover, Johannesburg-Dubai (8hrs), 2 hrs stopover, Dubai-Auckland (via Melbourne)(20 minute delay for me to get clearance from the Australian immigration so that I could board the flight+ 18.35 hrs flight), 3 hrs stopover, Auckland-Wellington (1 hr)! Final destination reached....kind of. Ten days in Wellington to eat, socalize, sleep, unpack, then re-pack......before moving to Melbourne!

(Livingstone, Zambia-Windhoek, Namibia) Journey in the bus of God!

After wildlife watching in Chobe national park,Victoria falls viewing from both the Zimbabwe and Zambian side and 'bungy induced adrenaline rush' it was time to head back to Windhoek again. We had actually planned this ahead of time and booked bus tickets online two weeks earlier. Mostly because we had to be back in Windhoek on a specific date and also because it was busy times in southern Africa. Never before had I seen so many people travelling on the plentiful "safari-trucks", (wittily called 'the mother-truckers' by us:)) a phenomenon I don't remember encountering when I was in Africa last time.....14 years ago:) Travelling has obviously been taken to a new level and dimension.  Even if we didn't have to compete for the bus tickets with the truck-tourists, we had more than once heard of hostels and campsites being booked out, so to avoid being stuck in Livingstone, we opted to be on the safe side for once.

The bus we had booked was based on the information that we had received while in Namibia and once again that information had been very selective. We had been told that there was only one bus company which serviced travel from Livingstone to Windhoek, but we soon realized that there were in fact two other companies as well and they seemed to be cheaper. But it was too late to worry about that and our bus was in fact quite nice. We looked forward to a comfy bus ride (or as comfortable as possible on a bus) and judging by the advertisement on the TV on the bus, this company was reliable, friendly and had resourceful drivers (a bit of self-praise is only good for the staff moral I guess).  The 'pro-company ad' had just finished when the bus suddenly screeched to a halt! Hmmmm not a good sign and definitely not after that "we-are-so-bloody-awesome" ad! We were told that a fan belt had broken, but that it would only take 5 minutes to fix. Three hours later we were still standing at the roadside taking turns staring at the complex engine structure of the bus while our resourceful drivers were frantically trying to fix the problem with a tree branch and a hammer? I'm sure they knew what they were doing, but can't help if I was a bit skeptical. Just as we were discussing with a few other co-passengers whether we would actually reach the border before they closed at 6pm, the bus from another company came by and stopped. We were pretty much ushered onto that bus and rushed to the border which we reached just before closing. Relief! At least we were in the right country and even if we ended up being 10 hrs late we would make it back to Windhoek! However, things were looking up since miraculously 'our' bus had now caught up with us, apparently patched up and functional and we were able to continue our trip without further delays.

We settled back in and listened as the bus hostess finished the (what seems to be) compulsory road prayer. The TV started up and we were ready for some relaxing time. To our surprise the "entertainment" consisted of hardcore Gospel spreading movies involving extremely poor acting skills. I'm all for religious freedom, but this was a bit  too much 'Christian propaganda' and I tried to close my eyes and tune out. This would've been successful, if Dan hadn't been so fired up about how disturbingly bad the quality and contents of the movie was and kept telling me what was happening on the screen.  He also kept muttering Insha' Allah, just to be annoying (one of his many special talents:)) and to exert his "freedom of religion"! Sigh! What was the point in even trying to sleep. I endured 3, what seemed to be, never ending movies about: 1) Bad boy meets girl and changes into nice boy while finding God, 2) Jesus serving food in a diner, trying to convince bad guy to eat his delicious food (=salvation) before heading off with officer 'Devile' and 3) Angry widower lost his faith in God but was shown the right way back into the light...or something like that. As if the movies were not bad enough, it was also stinking hot in the bus. I tried my best to cool down by pressing my face and arms tightly against the window, still being able to watch the movie in the reflection of course:) Finally kind of passed out either from heat stroke or mental exhaustion. It felt like one of the loooooongest bus rides ever (and there have been many in the past, record = 46 hrs in Argentina), but we finally made it to Windhoek. We were only 3 hours late which was not bad going considering the chaotic start, but in the future I much rather go on the local "chicken bus". At least then you get what you pay for!

(Namibia to Botswana) Public transport hello???

We reluctantly left Madagascar, but was looking forward to new adventures in Namibia and Botswana. Windhoek was a nice and modern city, a bit like Hamilton according to Dan (not sure if that's exactly selling the place). We arrived on  a Monday and started to look into how to get around the next day. To our surprise it seemed like long-distance buses only left on Mondays and Fridays??? A bit annoying since it was now Tuesday! We assumed that there must be other means of getting around (but nowhere to get that kind of information). Everywhere we asked they gave us the same answers and prices, almost as if the information available for tourists was fixed. As it turned out a few days in Windhoek was not necessarily the worst thing that could happen, especially not with our slightly odd dorm mate. He was superfriendly, but he talked in his sleep about "killing them" and slept with his boots on?! This was also the guy who the next day proudly pulled out a 9mm pistol to show us! Understandably I was a bit nervous that he would jump out of bed and start shooting randomly when we had to get up really early and the alarm clock would go off at 4 am. Instead I slept very poorly and turned off the clock before it went off:)

Friday arrived and we were off to Maun in Botswana. (We had decided to go to Botswana first since we had to  return to Namibia anyway to fly out.) We were first catching a bus towards Gaborone to cross the border and then apparently we were going to be let out where a connecting bus to Maun would come by. Piece of cake...if everything actually worked out that way. We managed to get on the first bus without any problem and the border was easy. Then all of a sudden we were told to get off. It was a big junction in the middle of nowhere (nearest town was 44 km away), but supposedly the other bus to Maun would come by within 30 minutes. A local guy also got off which was at least a good sign and we felt a bit more reassured since he was also going towards Maun. The guy almost immediately started to hitchhike. Maybe he was in a hurry or impatient and didn't want to wait for the bus?? With only 2 million people in Botswana there are not many cars on the roads, but after only about 20 minutes a truck stopped.  We were a bit unsure if the guy meant for us to tag along and we didn't want to take advantage of his hitchhiking skills so we made no attempt to climb into the truck. At this point we were still naive enough to think that maybe the next bus would come. However, the guy told us to get our gear into the truck and come along to the next town Ghanzi since he was sure no bus would come! Shit, better get our asses into that truck or we would be left in the desert/grass lands at the disposal of the wild animals!!!
In the next city we were dropped off at what seemed to be the public hitchhiking spot. Lots of people waiting and therefore also fierce competition.  It was not easy to interpret the different handwavings and hand gestures used by the passing cars and I was glad we were in company of our new best friend. By now we were slowly realizing that "public transport" was almost non-existent in Botswana and that hitchhiking was the best option although at times frustrating. However, on this day we were in luck and our next ride eventually arrived after only over an hour of waiting. We arrived late in Maun dirty, tired and hungry, but were pleased to see that the people with huge and over-the-top tents had left at least one shitty spot of the campground for us to pitch our tent, close to the river and any potential crocodiles. No sympathy from the 'wealthy' as they even walked around our tent in the morning giggling. Bastards!!! Even a dog had pissed on our tent!!!!  Despite this we had a lovely time in Maun and got to explore the Okavango delta. For the rest of our time in Botswana we continued to hitchhike and also continued to remind ourselves to enlighten the "tourist information person" in Namibia how completely wrong her information had been....no grudge held of course, since hitchhiking turned out to be our favourite way of getting around in southern Africa and was one of the few authentic opportunities to interact with the locals!

Madagascar- Mora Mora indeed!!

Despite having enjoyed the friendliness and hospitality of the people of Jordan and the amazing visit to Petra, we were ready to move on. Especially after almost a week in a cockroach riddled (Dan averaged 6 kills per day) and (too late we realized) bedbug infested room ( 36 bites on one leg must be a record of some kind?!). Hey at least it was cheap!!!

We arrived in Antananarivo, the capital of Madagscar without having any real idea what to expect. We were pleasantly surprised by the bright coloured houses that seemed to dominate this country! This was a stark contrast to the brown mudhouses we had got used to in Amman! Undeniably Madagascar is a very poor country, but admirably the people make the best of what they have and are generally vivacious and smiley! Very rarely have we encountered such enthusiasm from kids who spotted us 'Vazahas' miles away and yelled their hellos! ('Vazaha' is a term for white/ foreign people based on the name of a tree with flaky/ peeling bark from too much sun! Very appropriate!) We of course didn't want to disappoint the children and leave them thinking that 'Vazahas' are arrogant, so we made sure to wave frantically left and right.

Another interesting, but challenging aspect of Madagascar is the lack of proper roads in many parts of the country. This has been compensated by alternative means of transport such as pirogues (= a dugout canoe), zebu-carts and shared vans (called taxi-brousses) to help ease travelling around. One thing these have in common is that it is extremely slow-going! Dan and I initially joined an organised trip to get to some more 'difficult-to-reach places'. Then we planned to explore the south/middle of the country making use of the excellent taxi-brousse network running along the only highway going south. We knew that this was definitely not the most time-efficient way of getting around, but without question the most budget-friendly!

The taxi-brousses had 14 passenger seats. We were told that new rules limited the driver to overfill the taxi-brousses and that this was strongly enforced by the many police and military check-points along the way. (For awhile we believed this to be true until we later on got squeezed into a taxi-brousse with 28 people, including us+ a chicken :)). We were also told that the drivers were not allowed to drive at night either due to bandits or because of bad roads....never worked out what was the real reason. Either way, with this information we were set to endevour on our first taxi-brousse ride.

We arrived early at the taxi-brousse station. We knew that the taxi-brousse wouldn't leave until it was full, but we anticipated that it wouldn't take that long considering that it was already "full" when we bought our tickets. All they had to do was to load stuff onto the roof of the taxi-brousse. Three hours later we were still watching as they were strapping tables, chairs, ducks and chickens onto the roof. Apparently someone was moving house!!!  We had been told that we would reach our destination 600km away in the afternoon around 4pm. It was late morning before we set out so obviously we knew this was optimistic and guessed maybe it would be more like 7 or 8pm (if that was before any night drive ban would come into effect) ! However, after 2 hrs and many, many more stops we had only covered 50km. Considering the banned night driving we now doubted if we would make it to our destination at all that same day. Not much we could do about it so no point in worrying to much about it! Instead Dan and I entertained ourselves by listening to the loud Malagasy music blaring out of the speakers and finding English words for the lyrics that sounded like the Malagasy words. We were particularly fond of the "sundried cheesy" song, which was played fairly frequently and that we cheerfully sang along to! Later we realised that our "cheesy" might actually have been the word for Jesus!! Oops!  I'm sure that must be counted as a severe case of blasphemy to call Jesus-"cheesy and sundried" :)
The taxi-brousse journey continued even after dark (at 6pm) so we had our hopes up that maybe we would make it after all. BUT at 9pm it was blatantly obvious that we were in no such luck! Only about 100km from our destination we had stopped along side the road with another 20 taxi-brousses in front of a military check-point and we were not going anywhere.We assumed that this was it for the day and that probably we would continue after sunrise the next morning, which would be the logical thing to expect. We settled in for a night in the freezing taxi-brousse with our 12 co-passengers while listening to Madagascar's version of Elton John! It was very uncomfortable, but we managed to get a few hours of sleep (maybe). At 1 am we woke up and the taxi-brousse was on the move???? What was the point in stopping at all?? That just didn't make sense at all!! It was even more illogical since we reached our final destination at 4am!! The town was deserted and we refused to get out. Instead we stayed inside the taxi-brousse at the taxi-brousse station, desperately trying to stay warm until sunrise. In the morning, looking a bit rough and ragged, we got on the next taxi-brousse, but only after reassessing  our plan. We had overnight learnt our lesson and decided to shorten our intended distance between destinations as to avoid another night in the taxi-brousse. At least after this we truly came to understand the meaning of the favorite Malagasy expression "Mora mora" which means slowly slowly!!

(Turkey-Egypt-Jordan) Jordan on the cheap....

Arriving in Istanbul we soon realized that we had preferred the "no tourists in sight" feeling of central Asia rather than the tour bus packed city of Istanbul. It was a bit tiring with people and more people everywhere you turned, all following a designated guide with a flag/umbrella to make sure his herd of lost tourists didn't stray from the path. We also had a mission to complete. We had to make a decision on where to go from Turkey. Our initial plan was to travel by land through Syria and then onto Jordan. Since we had deemed the situation in Syria to be too unstable we chose to be "safe than sorry" and abandon this plan. Plan B was either to go by boat to Cyprus, Greece or Egypt. In Turkey it became apparent that either one of these options were neither economical or time efficient. We reluctantly had to go with plan C which was to fly to Egypt and from there go across to Jordan.

Why then "unfortunately" you may ask? Egypt shouldn't be a half-bad substitute for Syria. Well, it was unfortunately for us since we had been there 4 years ago and swore never to return (so much for saying never:)). Back then we were hassled to insanity and pretty much considered it 'asshole central'. Of course this was only based on the people that we met and these were people that worked in the tourist industry. Both Dan and I are almost convinced that the every day Egyptian is nice and friendly. Back in Egypt we were at first taken back by the friendly staff at the airport and we got our hopes up that maybe things had changed. Oh no, once outside the airport our previous impression was validated. We were immediately approached by unreasonable taxi drivers asking for ridiculous fares and who got angry with us when we declined?!? We then finally agreed on a price with one guy who almost bit my head off when I tried to put the seatbelt on?!? Apparently seat belts are not necessary now once Mubarak is gone?? Not sure what that has to do with me trying to be safe (I've seen driving in Egypt in the past) but at that point I didn't want to agitate our somewhat crazy driver.  We quickly made our way to Dahab which luckily was a bit less intense and spent a few days there to soak up some sun and eat banana pancake.

We left Egypt by ferry to go to Jordan (of course we were ripped off one final time at the ticket office, but difficult to argue if you can't read arabic) and were lucky to end up with a bunch of other travellers on the boat. These were people that we would end up meeting throughout our stay here in Jordan. But as with everything else there are different kinds of people and some you get along with better than others. We didn't know it yet, but as faith would have it we ended up with the cheapest guy on the planet....There's cheap and there's CHEAP!! Man, this dude (I will call him Ranger Bob) really had an issue with costs!!!

It started off pretty normal. As we arrived late in Jordan we shared a taxi and also a room with Bob . That was all OK, although we did think he had slightly odd ideas. He wanted to ask the receptionist if they had 'trees' in the desert?! It was 'cause he wanted to make a campfire to cook his food. He got pretty livid since the poor guy in the reception failed to understand (according to Bob) his perfectly normal question! Anyway, that was still OK and we thought that maybe he was just a bit odd. The next day we all continued to Wadi Rum (Bob still didn't know if there were any trees there, but brought his canned peas anyway). We got a great deal to spend the night with the Bedouins. By now we were growing a bit tired of his constant ranting about how expensive everything is and how much better it was in Israel bla bla bla! It was like a broken record and if he had any sense he wouldn't walk around talking about Israel like that, when it is obviously a very sensitive subject here in the middle east and one should better keep their mouth shut! To add to his inability of understanding and exercising tact, he gave me a scolding when we were about to pay since I had mentioned the price and he wanted to try and get it cheaper (this he said in English, loudly in front of the more than friendly and well-respected AND English-speaking Bedouin which had housed us)! We were utterly embarrassed! By then Dan said that we had to ditch him 'cause he didn't want to be associated with him. However, once again we were heading to the same place. This time to Petra! All Bob could think about was if it was possible to sneak in without paying. Groan!! Dan and I opted to stay in a double room rather than in a dorm just so that we could get away! Finally some peace and quiet...we thought. To our dismay we ran into Bob again at the Petra site (he had paid in the end) and as soon as he saw us he started to complain about the price of water (US$1.40/1.5 liters). He had therefore walked around in the sun for hours without water. Even though it meant extra weight, Dan and I had carried our bottles with water for hours for our supply for the day. Without asking Bob took one of the bottles and drank some (and then asked if it was OK) AND then complained that the water was warm! WTF (= va fan/va i helvete in Swedish). If there was an award for the cheapest prick in the world, he would win without any competition. AND I believe we have proven that not all assholes are from Egypt :)

(Kyrgyzstan-Bishkek-Kochkor) On the road....

After our horse riding adventure, we made one more stop in Kazakhstan, the lovely city of Aralsk. This used to be a peaceful fishing village, but now has the dubious distinction of being one of the world's worst environmental disasters, which was also reflected in the mood of the locals. Dan and I both enjoy interacting with the locals, but didn't expect much of that happening in Aralsk due to the "unfriendly vibe" we received upon our initial assessment of the town. However, towards lunchtime when the locals had had the chance to down a few vodkas (it was a national holiday) people warmed up and Dan, as always, made a new friend! His best friend for the day was a chance encounter with a drunk, "sumo-wrestler-like" military man called Borat (not kidding) who took an instant liking to Dan and gave him a crushing hug lifting him off his feet re-adjusting his spine in the process!

Kazakhstan had been great, but it was time for us to make good use of our Kyrgyz visas.We said a tearful goodbye to our travel companion of three weeks (Thomas the French guy) and proceeded across the border to Bishkek.We were happy to realize that people in Kyrgyzstan was just as lovely and friendly as in Kazakhstan despite the obviously denser population of tourists in Bishkek...we saw at least seven....

We really loved Kyrgyzstan which was well set up for tourists who wished to stay with families and take part of the culture. The only downside was their bad driving. This was more than obvious when we travelled in a shared van and went past a bad car accident. The car was upside down (or "upside duck" as my sister would say:)) and completely mangled. Everyone in our van went "Oh" and "Ah" seeing the destruction. Next to the car was a man on the ground. I was not sure if he was still alive, but what surprised us the most was that the driver of our van didn't even stop to check or to offer help?!?! Maybe that's the custom here that if it looks like a lost cause then you move on. I made a mental note that it may be a good idea to wear a seatbelt in this country whenever possible. This would prove to definitely be a good idea later on as we were yet again in a shared van going back to Bishkek. Some of the worst driving we've seen in the past was in Egypt and India, but this may well be the most nerve wracking ever. The driver of our particular van was nonchalantly changing lanes back and forth, but for some reason he preferred to drive on the wrong side! Sure there wasn't that much traffic, but to take on fairly windy roads and blind corners  at 130km/hr, still driving on the wrong side, would probably make even Schumacher a bit sweaty!. To make matters worse the driver insisted on turning his head and talking to the man sitting behind him!!! Argh!!!! If our Russian had been any better we would've told him to keep his bloody eyes on the freakin' road!!!  Instead I frantically fumbled to put my seatbelt on while having flashbacks from the "car accident man" .  I hadn't done it before cause no one else had and I didn't want to be "uncool", but screw that, I was rather alive than "cool". Poor Dan didn't have a seatbelt available to put on and I  was desperately holding on to him  just in case we were going off the road....(like that would've helped!) Needless to say it was an unpleasant 2 hrs ride back to Bishkek, but we made it safe and sound even though it took a good while before my heart rate went back to normal.....maybe I'm getting too old for this....

(Kazahkstan-Aksu Zhabagly Nature reserve) Hold your horses!

Perhaps the main thing associated with central asian countries are great horsemen and mongol hordes gallopping across the steppes. Not surprisingly, a major tourist activity for foreigners is horse trekking. We were no different and all of us (Dan, I and the French guy= Thomas) had plans on doing exactly this. None of us had very much experience and Dan had never even sat on a horse (only camels and an elephant). Despite this we were all cocky and set to do a 4-day horse trek in the Aksu-Zhabagly nature reserve.

We managed to organise horse trekking through a guy (Yevgeny) who spoke English.  The plan was to horse trek during the day and then camp at night. Unfortunately it was not allowed to camp within the park so we would have to make our way just outside of the reserve boundaries every evening usually in close proximity to the ranger's house. Even if we wanted to do 4 days Yevgeny had first organized permits for two days and then "we'll see" he said. He mentioned something about the weather, but I think we were too excited to register that bit of information.
The next day we were ready to go and our instructions were drrrr = stop and choo= go, commands that we noticed didn't always work. A bit wobbly to get onto the horse but then it was OK. We all looked quite comfortable in the saddles.We took off at a slow pace to kind of get the feel for it and to try and take photos...little did we know how hard it was to take photos while riding, even at a slow pace. I thought we were doing OK, even though the guide kept telling us we were the slowest tourist he had ever ridden with. In our defence he had only been working at the reserve for 2 weeks.  We rode for almost 7 hours the first day through spectacular mountains. Needless to say, that long on a horse left us looking like a sorry bunch at the end of the day. Thomas was red and sunburnt, my knees for some reason hurt (bad technique???) and Dan's ass was sore unlike ever before (including his last visit to the hospital emergency room hehehe! For further information ask Dan about it!). Exhausted and in pain we were dropped off by horse 2 km outside of the main village where we would camp for the night. After a dinner of canned meat and barely-cooked rice/glue (issues getting the water boiling properly after 2 hours on the campfire makes you less picky about how well-cooked the rice is) we crawled into the tent. Next morning we were all stiff and  in pain and I was dreading getting back onto the horse. Surprisingly, once I was in the saddle it was like my limbs got numb and I couldn't actually feel that much.

Back in the village we met up with Yevgeny to organize the remaining days of our horse trekking combining it with a bit of hiking as well. We had completely forgotten about the warning of bad weather and took off again the next day. Towards the afternoon it was clear that it was going to rain and Dan was the only smart one who had prepared with rain jacket AND rain pants (I only had a rain jacket)! We rode in the pouring rain with the wind blowing in our faces. Not the best conditions for horse riding. The horses slid in the mud and it didn't help that my horse definitely had an eating disorder. Midstride he would stop cause he saw something to eat causing further delays for everyone. Finally we came to the Viktor the ranger's house pretty much soaked through and cold to the bones. Viktor was not exactly the warm type. He had a rugged looking face with ice cold blue eyes. He looked a bit like Ed Gein, the inspiration for Texas chainsaw massacre. At this point we still hoped that maybe Viktor would take pity on us and let us stay in the house even if the arrangement was that we were supposed to stay in the tent. Not very likely.Without a word he showed us where to set up the tent beside a frog-filled lake. The rain kept falling and the wind picked up. Wet and cold we jumped into our sleepingbags and tried to sleep. We heard the wind roaring outside and the rain was continuously hitting the tent. Suddenly there was a strange noise. It was Viktor splashing around in the lake outside trying to start some kind of pump system. The whole situation was a bit creepy and it didn't help that Dan had mentioned that he had seen a fine collection of axes and hacksaws in Viktor's shed. I thought " Shit, no one knows where we are...we don't even know where the hell we are!!!!" In my exhausted state I was convinced that he was going to chop us up and dump us into the lake! The other two were too tired to care. Obviously that night didn't bring much sleep as I stayed awake in preparation for the end....The next day arrived without any further dramas. Viktor even greeted us with an offer of hot tea and told us to bring some vodka to share next time we visited. He was a nice guy after all!!!