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| Don White cabled us: this picture of himself enjoying the Australian sun |
WOMANS OWN LONDON-WONDERFUL SUN ON SYNDNEY BEACH STOP
THRILLED TO HEAR YOU ARE PUBLISHING MY STORY HOPE READERS ENJOY MY TRAVELS AS MUCH AS I AM -DON WHITE-SYDNEY AUSTRALIA
Here’s a story that breathes the spirit of Youth today!
Thousands of young people will go abroad this summer -in search of adventure and excitement - like young Don White. . .
Around the world on £25
THE big Turkish policeman stared at us for a moment, and dug the muzzle of his revolver into my ribs. "He indicated the rear seat of his car. I got in without: a word, and Barbara, my travelling companion, nervously followed me.
Barbara turned her pale face up to me. "Don, what are they going to do to us?"
As the car roared along the dusty, desolate road, my mind went back to Trieste, Italy, weeks ago, where I had first met Barbara; back to the day, four weeks before that,.. when I had set off from Britain with £25 (about $70.25)? in my pocket.
When I first landed on the Contnenit with several of my school friends--I was 16-my plans had been quite modest. I just wanted to find holiday work in Europe and see something of the life of other countries.
So I’d hitch-hiked about, and after a month I had found myself in Trieste, at the head of the Adriatic, with just £9 (about $25.29)? left.
At this time there was a lot of street rioting in Trieste, and it was thanks to one of these riots that I met Barbara.
The police had at last succeeded in clearing away the rioters when a voice from behind startled me : "Does that happen often?"
I turned round to find a young girl smiling at me. She wore a coloured cotton frock and carried a red straw bag..
''I'm from Cheshire," she continued. "My name's Barbara. I
arrived in Trieste only today. Does that happen often?"
"I don't know. It's the fourth one I've been in this week, though." We stood there awkwardly for a moment. "Fancy a cup of tea?"
We walked out of the square toward the beach. The Adriatic looked beautiful. I glanced at my companion. She was about five feet tall, with a happy face. I felt immediately at ease with her.
We found a small, cheap-looking cafe with its inevitable strings of glass beads at the door. We went in, and ordered spaghetti.
"Where did you arrive from?" I asked her.
"I left London three weeks ago," Barbara explained. "My fiance is working in Basra, and I thought I'd like to join him. What about you? What are your plans?"
"I’m just on a six weeks' holiday," I said, rather shyly. "I started off with two other boys from school but I lost them-or they lost me-- the very first day! I haven't seen them since."
"Where are you going now?" asked Barbara.
"I don't know," I said. "I've been to Italy and Austria. If I go to Yugoslavia I shan't have enough money to get home. What would you do?"
"Well, that depends. How much have you ""got left?" .. "Well, I had £25 when I left London, but I've only got £9 left now," I said miserably. "It costs £2 (about $5.62)? to cross the Channel so I've really got only £7 (about $19.67)? to play around with. . . ."
"But that's a fortune." gasped Barbara. "I left Brussels with only 10s (about $1.55)?. and I've still got about half of that left." "But will that take you all the way to Iraq?" I said, astonished. .
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| India It was there I met Louise Sutherland who was touring the world-on a bike |
Call of the Orient
"WHY not? And why don't you come as well, then Robin-my fiance -can get you on a ship back home for free? He's captain of an oil tanker in the Persian Gulf. He's wonderful. He'd do anything for me. . . ."
Ten days later, we had hitch-hiked our way into Greece. And after a day or so there, we hitched a lift with an American to Constantinople, the fabulous Turkish city on the Bosphorus. Our American friend dropped us by the main station.
''I'm hungry," said Barbara. She sat down on the kerb with her head in her hands. "How much have we got?"
"We've got exactly one Turkish lira. That's roughly half a crown (about 35 cents)? between us."
"Oh!" Barbara stood up and brushed the dust from her frock. "Let's find a cafe," she said, "and have a cup of real Turkish coffee."
Down and almost out
I SHOULDERED my rucksack and followed her. There was a small cafe open near the station and we went inside.
"Coffee, please," I said, indicating a cup and pointing to my mouth.
"After breakfast we must try to earn some money," said Barbara. I’ll call at all the big hotels and see if they need a chambermaid or washer-upper or something. What will you do?"
We decided that I should call on one of the leading Istanbul newspapers to see if they were interested in our story.
I left Barbara and set out to find the offices of the Cumhuriyet Gazetesi, the leading newspaper of the city, making my way through streets far too narrow for any motor vehicle-corridors of mud, dirt and cobbles.
It was in one of these corridors that I found the back entrance of the Cumhuriyet offices. I plucked up courage and knocked at the door.
I was received by a tall, slim young man dressed in very baggy American clothes, who said: ''I'm Nuyan Yigit, one of the chief reporters on the Cumhuriyet."
I began to blurt out my story. "Hold on, hold on," he shouted. "Where is this Barbara you talk of? I think the best idea will be for you both to meet me for dinner at six o'clock this evening. I shall be here waiting for you. Meanwhile, I'll have a chat with my editor. O.K. then, see you at six o'clock."
I raced back to the hotel we'd planned to stay at to wait for Barbara, and to start writing an article about our travels.
Barbara returned late in the afternoon. "I’m absolutely exhausted," she gasped. "There's nothing. Not a thing."
"We've got a dinner date at six," I said.
"Food! How? What did you do?"
I told her about Nuyan Yigit and the article for the Cumhuriyet. Nuyan took us to a cosy restaurant near the editorial office of the newspaper.
"I spoke to the editor about you both," he began. "Can you give me three articles? I'll
translate them. We will pay you 15 liras (about $5.25)? for each article."
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‘Imagine it! Me in Istanbul
the magic gateway to the East'
continued on page 24
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"Oh, wonderful said Barbara.
"And one more thing," said Nuyan. "I telephoned Radio. Istanbul and they want to interview you on their programme In Town This Week. How's that?"
"That's terrific," I said.
"You’re marvellous," said Barbara.
The radio interview was a great success. We were asked to describe our respective journeys to Istanbul and our impressions of the city. It was all over in a few minutes.
But by the- end of the week our money had almost run out again, and Barbara said to me: ''I'm fed up with all this. Let's pack and go." So we packed and went. When we had left our hotel, we took the ferry over to the Asiatic coast and got a lift to Ankara.
In Ankara, a spacious modern city the very opposite of romantic and ancient Constantinople, we managed once again to sell our story to a Turkish repapswen Then a Turk who had befriended us gave us a lift out on to the Aleppo road, and we were hitch-hikers again.
We were silent for a while until Barbara suddenly sprang to her feet. "Don, look!"
Through the desert - by camel
COMING along the highway towards us was a caravan of camels. Five of them: the first caravanserai we had ever seen.
Barbara thought aloud. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could. . . ."
"Oh no!" I interrupted. "No camels. I read once that you can get seasick riding a camel."
"An old wives' tale," Barbara said. "Hello!" She hailed the old man leading them, and in a few moments the little merchant was instructing us in the art of camel-riding.
The saddle is slung over the hump, and you sit with your left leg hanging down the side of the animal, and the right around the front of the saddle. The toes of the right foot are firmly hooked beneath the left knee. It is very uncomfortable, and very difficult to maintain.
We managed at last, and our journey south through the Anatolian desert began. By early afternoon we had covered quite a distance, but I had had enough. After a few hours in the blazing heat, I was thoroughly seasick. Camels lollop along with an odd gait that gives the impression of a ship rolling in heavy seas.
"Barbara," I called. "I must get down. I can't stand it any longer."
"But we can't get off in the middle of the desert," she called back. "The last village was miles back. Goodness knows how far the next one is."
"You go on then," I said, in desperation. ''I'm going to get off and die."
I disentangled my legs and jumped down weakly.
Barbara joined me. The caravan moved off. Soon it was gone.
"This was a silly place to get off," said Barbara.
I didn't answer It was quite true. For miles around us there was a vista of sand, pebbles, bare, burned hills and more sand.
We sat for almost four hours. Every now and again Barbara would stand up to scan the horizon for traffic: Her patience was rewarded at last.
"Look," she said. "There's a cloud of dust on the horizon. It must be a car."
The vehicle drew nearer. It was an old black sedan. As it approached we waved violently, and the car stopped.
A huge Turk emerged from the rear seat of the car and walked over to us. He wore the uniform of the Turkish police, and was pointing his revolver at us. . . . .
Arrested at gun point
SO there we were, being driven through the bleak countryside back towards Ankara in silence and fear, wondering what our offence had been, and whether we might be sent to prison. . . .
We entered Ankara and drove through the narrow maze of streets until we stopped before a large building.
We were marched briskly along a dim, ill-lit corridor and up a flight of stairs, and led into a gloomy office, where an official sat drinking tea. We stood there for over an hour while the official made innumerable phone calls and was visited by countless other important-looking officials. Not one of them spoke English. At last a very important-looking officer
"I speak English," he began."You are fools. Your movements have been under observation for the past four days."
He slammed his fist on the table.
"We know all about you-everything. Why are you in Turkey? Who is your collaborator in Ahkara )
"I suddenly realized what he was getting at. "You think we're spies?"
"Of course," he said. "We've been keeping a check on you ever since you arrived at Samsun from Baku."
"Baku?" I repeated. "That's Russia, isn't it?"
Barbara put her hand to her head and said: "Oh, this is ridiculous. Us, Russian spies? I can't believe it. Show him the newspaper clippings, Don."
I thrust my hand into my pocket and took out the clippings.
‘Undesirables'
THE officer snatched them from me. He read aloud in a large, booming voice that echoed round the cell. He laughed several times, and when he had finished said :
''I'm very sorry. It was a mistake. But you understand we have to be very careful here in Turkey. Many undesirable people come here."
The officer took us to supper in the city. He invited us to accept rooms -as his guests -for the night in the Ankara Palas Hotel. one of the two best hotels in the capital.
Before we left Turkey, Barbara and I parted sadly. Her fiance had cabled her some money from Basra (some of which she lent me) and she was to continue her journey by train.
I hitch-hiked my way through Syria and then across the desert to Iraq and Baghdad. As we approached the city, its lights glowed and glimmered like blurred, exotic havens, far removed from the immense silence of the desert. It was in Baghdad that by coincidence I met Barbara again, and we travelled together by train to Basra. I slept on the floor of her first-class compartment! In Basra I came to a decision. I told Barbara. "I'm not going back. It just doesn't seem right to contemplate turning back now that I've come so far. I'm going on. Right round the world." -
"Good for you," said Barbara encouragingly. "That's the spirit. Where will you go?"
''I'm not sure. Teheran, Afghanistan, the "Khyber Pass, Pakistan, India. . . .
I decided on Pakistan and decided to travel by the cheapest way-by Arab dhow. Barbara came to see me off, and I kissed her softly on the cheek. "There you are. A real brother to sister kiss . . . goodbye, Barbara, see you soon. . . ."
The long hot days passed as we sailed slowly down the Persian Gulf towards Pakistan. One night the lights of Karachi appeared. Soon, I was being ferried to the wharf and then I stood on the fabulous soil of India.
In the next few weeks I flew from Karachi into India, and then travelled down to Bombay on an Indian train.
Mysterious woman
ONE evening a truck driver dropped me in the town of Nasik, one of the seven Hindu holy cities. It began to rain and I went into a restaurant for a meal-and found myself in the middle of a mystery. Several people stopped eating as I came in and one stood and said, "Do you look for the memsahib? She is at the Liberty Hotel, at the end of the street."
This was beyond me. I left the cafe and walked beneath the coloured lights to the end of the road. I might just as well put up for the night at the Liberty Hotel; it was too wet to sleep out.
It was a small wooden building with a large painted sign above the entrance. I opened the fly-screen door and slipped in, peering around until my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. I could just make out a cane chair and in it the figure of a woman. "Can you tell me how much it costs for a room for a night?" I asked.
"I reckon I can . . . but I'm only a guest here myself."
You could have cut that accent with a knife: Australian or New Zealand.
I turned up the oil lamp. "Now I can see you."
Fantastic journey
SHE was a tiny girl, curled up in the chair. Large blue eyes shone out of her pert, expressive face. So this was the mysterious memsahib I was supposed to meet
I’m Louise Sutherland. You wouldn't be the English hitch-hiker I've been reading about in the papers?" I nodded.
"Well, I'm glad to meet you. On a trip like this you don't often meet other travellers."
Louise and I had a long chat. I was eager nkn.oto all about her trip.
"I’m cycling around the world," she said simply, and told me about it in a matter-of-fact voice.
I was amazed. In 18 months. this young woman had covered more than 6,000 miles, crossed deserts, lived with natives, suffered all the privations of heat, cold and headwinds-alone. And now, she had emerged from her fantastic journey with the casual satisfaction of a child who is gratified, but not surprised, to find that Santa Claus has called in the night.
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‘travelling my way, you never know what mystery, romance, adventure, lies ahead...’says DON WHITE
Further excerpts from Don White's diary of his journey around the world will appear in WOMAN'S OWN from time to time.
“In Switzerland I met beautiful Brigitte Bardot-what a place and what a girl.We were snapped together and here's the picture which I got her to sign for you-BRIGITTE BARDOT'S MESSAGE TO WOMAN’S OWN-Best Wishes
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(?about)
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