To Tripoli, Libya

Catchup Postage: Ghadames to Tripoli

Hmm. Not much opportunity to get online these days. Wonder what it's going to be like in Central Asia? We may well disappear!

Now where were we? Oh yeah...

We set out for Tripoli before dawn. The windstorm has abated, the full moon is westering and almost everybody is asleep again before we pass the last of the streetlights that extend into the desert far beyond Ghadames' outskirts. One side of our great circular horizon blushes at the coming sun as the setting moon fades into mauve dusk above the other.

The day brightens as we retrace our route and at eight-thirty we abandon the road for breakfast under the vast bowl of the sky. The tracks of shrew, centipede and gecko are thrown into high relief by the wash of the early morning sun across the powdery microdunes deposited by the storm.

We're in for a long day's drive, the highlight of which comes not long after breakfast when a wealth of camels materialises from the seemingly empty desert, their herdsmen swathed against the sun and resurgent wind and dust.

The men are keeping the herd compact and shepherd the animals swiftly across the road before us. I get the feeling they're bound for somewhere far over the horizon and have little time for a sealed road or its strange travellers.

George stops the truck briefly for the photographers amongst us and I notice a lone rider bringing the stragglers up behind. He is yet to cross the road, so I open the truck's back door and step out onto the spare tyres bolted on the back to get my angle. George can't tell I'm out there, so I grip a handle tightly with one hand while framing the shot in anticipation of the herdsman's route.

Silly really. The truck lurches into motion, a few of my fellows yell and Amber's hand grabs the back of my jacket and hauls me back through the door. I wasn't in danger of falling, but I guess it didn't look that way.

All I can think of is the look in the Berber's eyes as he met mine through the lens.

Several bumpy Libyan road-hours later the desert has given way to parched farmland and olive groves which have in turn been subsumed by the sprawl of heavy industry on Tripoli's outskirts.

Our lodgings for the night turn out to be the most salubrious of the trip - giant rooms with barfridges, satellite TV and marble bathrooms big enough to hold a dance party in. It wasn't supposed to be this way, but it's the cheapest available within 30km of the city center. It's blown Oasis's budget, but we've lucked in!

Opposite our hotel is the former king's palace which is now occupied by Libya's equivalent of the CIA. We're admonished to not even consider pointing a camera in that direction. We go for a group dinner, then most of us follow Ader to a shisha café in the center of town. By the time we get back to the hotel at midnight, the concierge has fallen asleep and we're locked out. After repeated hammerings and buzzings fail to rouse him Nick and Kevin decide a leg-up over the wall is required. The two rather imposing gentlemen who've been hanging by their Mercedes watching us spring into action, dissuading the lads from this approach in no uncertain terms. When we finally gain admittance, they berate the concierge mercilessly. It's later alleged they were a pair of generals instrumental in Gaddafi's coup, but they didn't seem old enough to me.

Tripoli is a cosmopolitan city and the Italian quarter has some imposing architecture. The boulevards of the capital are thronged with late model expensive cars (is there another city where the police drive new Mercedes saloons?) but it seems no-one's inclined to keep them clean and sparkly. Perhaps that desert dust reaches here too often.

Our morning amble brings us back to the shisha café, which occupies the courtyard of government buildings erected under the influence of Mussolini's dream of a resurgent Roman Empire. The high arches leave no doubt of the aspiration, but I've seen ruins that were far more impressive.

Alas! We wander as far as the citadel down by the ocean, but I find little inspiration for the camera. The light is harsh and flat and our time is limited as we leave at four for Leptis Magna. I'm sure Tripoli has much more to offer, but we're not finding it today.

Not long after lunch we see the writing on the wall.

We do as it suggests.