It was somewhat reassuring to learn that the ship's officers and crew found the Libyans as exasperating as I had. Even before entering Libyan waters, there were plenty of warnings things might not go to plan.
The first problem was alcohol. Libya claims to be dry, but there's a lot of hypocrisy (and illicit alcohol distilled from dates). We were warned the ship's bars would be off-limits during the four or so days under Libyan jurisdiction. However, it turned out it was possible to (unsociably) drink in one's cabin. A reassuring ship's notice offered to deliver bottles upon bottles before we arrived in Libya. And take back any emergency supplies we didn't open.
In the end, slack officials in Benghazi neglected to seal the bars, but, closer to the official disapproval of Tripoli, the capital, the bars were shut for a few hours.
Next problem was landing. 'Slack officials' does not adequately describe the pilot and harbour master in a place called Al Khums. As we drifted offshore, the ship's officers paced the bridge wondering where the Libyans were.
Although the Libyans had known about the ship's arrival for nearly a year, the pilot turned up late and the harbour master had to shift a freighter to make way for us. Three hours later than expected, we docked. With so much oil, who cares about a few foreigners? I suspect the gentleman in the fancy white uniform is the one responsible for our grudging reception.
No surprise at the many signs extolling the leader. This one reminds passersby it's forty-one years since the revolution that brought Gaddafi to power.
For all the guff about true democracy and 'committees everywhere', the absolute leader is the quirky Gaddafi. Still, I was interested to see the many mosques and that one of my guides took an opportunity to pray.
The few Libyans I met were throughly pleasant. This young man was anxious to say that he knows about Canada.
And this friendly threesome were eager to talk. Isn't she a stunner?
I wasn't planning on many souvenirs from this trip, but did get the two I really wanted, a copy of Gaddafi's 'Green Book' ...
... and a rare (well, rare in Toronto) Gaddafi watch celebrating the upcoming revolution's forty-second year.
The Gaddafi watch cost ten dinars or about eight Canadian dollars and was made in China. My 'Green Book', bought in a rush not knowing if there'd be another chance, turned out to have been printed in England. I fretted over this until the next stop when I discovered all the Green Books in various languages had been printed outside Libya. Perhaps the quality of presses in Libya isn't of the standards required for the Colonel's tiresome prose. Tiresome enough to bring back memories of ploughing through Kim Il-sung.
Anyway, the main point is that I finally got to Libya. My impressions are thoroughly superficial, but - hey! - I got in, so take THAT Colonel Gaddafi!
