Spanish hills

 At 6am on a Sunday morning

Bleary eyed and stifling the yawning
We step aboard an Easyjet plane
For an Exodus walking trip to Spain.

I wonder who my fellow travellers will be
I expect they're thinking the same about me.
We're looking forward to a week of fun
It had better not rain as we need some sun.

We're met at the airport by Jose Miguel
A shy and retiring chap, I can tell.
But it soon becomes clear that the trip will be fine
When he stops after an hour to buy us some wine.

And although Frances was first looking a little dismayed
After stopping for wine, all her fears were allayed
She was worried it would only be her that was drinking
Good God! What on earth was she thinking?

It seems a bottle of wine is the cure for all ills
A panacea  for all those hills.
Ah yes! That brings us to the important part
The subject of mountains - now where do I start?
No rest for the wicked on the tortuous climb
But the pain will be cured by the vistas sublime.

Breakfast is at half past eight
We leave at half past nine.
Don't worry about being punctual though
Juan works on Spanish time.

He calls it a gentle warmup
Just up that hill and a little bit more.
But I think it's his way of punishing us
For so much wine the night before.

We follow our fearless leader, however,
And when the hills we have survived
We're rewarded with elevenses
And soon feel much revived.

There are jokes and banter constantly
It keeps us all relaxed.
Jose Miguel takes it in his stride
When we ask if his chest is waxed.

He puts up with a lot from us
We're relentless throughout the day
But he starts to look a little non-plussed
When we tell him we thought he was gay.

Jose's English is already first class
But we improve it all the time
He learns the term for a very steep hill
"It's a bugger of a climb!"

We have a fine collection of ailments
They affect us all at some stage
There's diabetes and asthma, bad knees and gout
Sore legs, blisters and just plain old age.

Peter and Di are pancreatically challenged
They compete with their blood sugar test
But despite Di's very expensive machine
Peter's results are always the best.

The two guys from Belfast keep us amused
With dancing and singing and jokes
But the best is their photo of Benidorm
In which they proudly display that they're blokes.

 I'll leave you with something to think about
As we part at Alicante airport
If you come with the aim not to make any friends
You'll find it's harder than you thought.

Stark raving bonkers?

Inspired by the adventure that was my Inca Trail trip, I may have lost the plot completely. The day after we finished the Inca Trail, I was chatting to Juan, our guide, about mountain trekking and all the places I wanted to go to. "So are you going to do Kilimanjaro then?" he asked. I was astonished! Of all the people to suggest that, I thought Juan, who nearly had to have me airlifted off the mountain, and who was so worried about my health he had been to check on me 5 times in the night in my tent, would be the last person! But no, it turned out he was serious. "Why not? You said you've always wanted to do it, you love trekking and mountains, and you've got the attitude and determination to make it." Now those who know me will know how much I love a challenge. Oh, and I love East Africa. And especially elephants. So I gradually got to thinking about it, and discussing with friends who'd done it, and friends who hadn't and wished they had, and friends who would never in a million years drag themselves up a mountain willingly. I started idly researching it online, went to an Exodus presentation about it, and somehow ended up deciding to do it in February 2013. So there we go. I've bought the book, started my research, and for the last week have dreamt about it every single night. So I've now started a separate blog for it. Countdown: 11 months to go!

"What am I supposed to be looking at?"

Travel is very different when you're blind. You have different priorities, and very different experiences, when you can't see properly. Leaving aside the navigational challenges, which are a whole kettle of fish in their own right, this is about what you get from visiting a new place. I love visiting new cities, new countries, and even new continents, but I'm not really one for seeing the sights, visiting the museums and ticking off things in a guide book. I can see pictures of cathedrals, bridges and museums in books and on the web, and I get a much better view of them than in real life. I can read as much history as I want about them without ever going there (although frankly, I'll lose interest after more than a couple of facts anyway). Visiting new places for me is about the atmosphere: the smells, the sounds, and yes, the visuals too, but mainly, seeing what life is like, rather than what buildings and attractions there are. You'll see this from my photos. Most of my photos are not the usual tourist things, they're incidents or angles that just catch my eye. I think sometimes it's an advantage having poor sight when taking photos - because I have no depth or distance perception, what I see is kind of similar to what you get in a (2D) photo: in other words, I see things in the same way that they appear on film. For example, those pictures where you appear to have a tree growing out of your head, or you're holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa? That's how I see in real life. The best thing, though, is when I can blow the picture up later on my computer, and see in much clearer detail exactly what it was I was looking at originally!

Dead Womans Pass - dealing with altitude

The story of my trip to Peru and the Inca Trail would not be complete without mentioning the day of Dead Woman's Pass. Apart from the first couple of days when I had a splitting headache (and I'm still not sure if that was the trapped nerve in my neck or the altitude, or possibly both) and a lot of very heavy breathing especially as soon as I started going up any hill, I'd been feeling great on the trip and no problems with altitude. On Christmas Day we set off for what we knew to be the toughest part of the trek - the long ascent up and over Dead Woman's Pass. I felt fine that morning and was in good spirits until our first rest stop at about 10am. I was with the front group of 4 people and although breathing heavily, felt fit. However, hanging around at the stop for a long time waiting for Alison and the slower members of the group to catch up, I got cold, and it was raining. Soon after we set off again, I couldn't feel my fingers and my hands went white. My breathing got worse and I was struggling. Alison and Lena warmed my hands up and I found my gloves, but they soon got wet and my hands never really warmed up. I then started feeling sick and started getting slower and slower, with more and more difficulty breathing, as reached the lunch stop. My memory is a little hazy here, I don't remember anything about getting to lunch except arriving in the dining tent where almost everyone was already seated and waiting, feeling terribly dizzy, and going to take my seat at the table. I tried to sit on the stool and fell over backwards, straight into the mud, much to the hysterics of the rest of the group. I think they realised quickly that I wasn't feeling very well. I ate a bit of soup although I wasn't really hungry, and we were soon on our way again. Now I was getting slower and slower, and feeling progressively worse. I was walking at the back with Alison, and even she seemed to feeling fitter than I was. Every step was a struggle, and I felt terribly sick. My stomach started to heave, and before long I was having to find quiet spots off the track to visit the loo. I'll spare you the details, but it wasn't pretty. Luckily I had a plentiful supply of loo roll and hand sanitiser! After a couple of hours, I was feeling so ill I could barely move. My whole body was shaking, I was stopping for the loo every few minutes, it was still raining, I felt desperately sick and everything ached like when you have flu. In fact, I felt like I had flu and a sickness bug both at once. Sometimes it took me several seconds to lift up one foot and place it on the step above. And all the while we were climbing up the steps. I felt so frustrated, and so ill, I felt like giving up, and had to keep giving myself a stern talking to about not giving in. Alison had long since overtaken me and I was alone with Juan. I could sense his annoyance, but I couldn't begin to convey how ill I was. I contemplated the options, but knew there were only 2. Carry on somehow until I got to camp, or lose consciousness and be airlifted out, and miss the rest of the trek. Which I was not going to let happen. Juan started pushing ahead, and he got a little stern about the need to speed up or we would never make it before dark. I think his only worry was about the dark, not that I was really ill. But I was getting weaker and weaker, and I was struggling to coordinate my legs, wobbling with every step and walking in a very wonky line. I saw him ahead waiting for me, made it to him and then half fell, half sat down. I had no water by this time and was terribly thirsty. He started talking to me and asking me to repeat his name, and asking simple questions. My head was foggy and I knew his name began with J but couldn't remember the rest. "Juan" he kept saying. "My name is Juan." "What's my name?" I couldn't do it. "What your name?" Hmm, I couldn't remember that either. I shut my eyes to blot everything out, and felt everything go warm and fuzzy. Juan kept shaking me and asking me questions. Next thing I knew, I was breathing something violently strong and coughing. Still fuzzy, I then realised Juan was slapping me around the face and shaking me, and my throat was burning. I came to and found he had been making me breathe pure alcohol. Apparently it gets the oxygen back to the brain. A bit like smelling salts in the old days, I imagine. I started feeling better and soon I was on my feet and able to progress. At that point, I realised that Juan was actually quite worried. I felt much better, although still desperately sick. We soon reached the top of the pass but, unlike the others, didn't have a chance to take it in or celebrate, or even take a photo, it was down the other side as there was still another hour and a half or so till camp and it would be dark soon. I started feeling sick again, and a bit later had to sit down again. My stomach was still problematic, and by this time I was just having to go by the side of the track. Luckily all the porters had long since passed so there was no danger of anyone coming up behind me. I looked up and saw 2 porters coming up to meet us. Juan had radioed the camp and got them to come up and help. One of them took my bag. Moments later, I realised I was actually going to be sick. Finally..... I projectile vomited about 3 litres in one go, and felt much better. Juan never left my side, and the porters had brought tea in a flask, which I was incredibly grateful for! After that, I felt much better and almost ran down the hill to the camp for the last hour, overtaking Alison on the way, who was suffering terribly with her knees, especially on the downhill. I arrived in camp just before dark, and saw Adrian outside my tent. He asked me if I was OK and I burst into tears and gave him a hug, as I was just so relieved to have made it and not to have been airlifted out. Adrian and Haydyn had even unpacked my bag for me in my tent and laid out my sleeping bag and mat for me. What absolute stars!

However, the story doesn't quite end there....

March of the Chinchillas - on the Inca Trail

One of the things I love to do most of all is travel. I love the thrill of going somewhere I've never been before, especially a new country or, better still, a new continent (though I'm fast running out of those), and of experiencing a new culture. Of course, when you're partially sighted, travel always becomes more of an adventure, especially if you like travelling alone as I do. But even though I usually end up having at least one terrible moment on any given trip, I try to learn from my mistakes. Or at least, I try to see the funny side afterwards.



This year I decided to go somewhere I've been dying to go for years - Peru. I've always had my eye on walking the Inca Trail and visiting Macchu Pichu, but never got round to it. So after the success of my 2 week holiday in Cuba earlier this year, I decided to go for it, with Exodus again. Oddly, the things I was most nervous about were mainly things other people would think stupid. My two biggest fears were getting a dodgy stomach while trekking, and what the camping would be like (and how cold it would be). I was also a bit worried about getting soaking wet walking and not being able to dry out overnight. I wasn't particularly worried about altitude sickness, or at least, only to the extent of getting a bad stomach. Oh, and my other biggest fear was not being able to negotiate my way around the campsite in the dark, for example to get to the toilet. And just how badly the toilet tent would smell. Oddly enough, all these worst fears came true apart from the getting extremely wet. I suffered from altitude sickness, had stomach problems and vomiting for 24 hours, collapsed twice and was almost airlifted off the mountain as a result of some combination of altitude sickness and dehydration, and a couple of nights couldn't even begin to navigate my way around the campsite in the dark. Of course, I survived all these problems and many more.

On the plus side, my worries about whether I had the right gear (warm enough / cool enough) were unfounded as I got that spot on. The weather changed from tshirt, shorts and suncream to 4 layers and ski gloves within 10 minutes. At night my worry about being cold was also largely unfounded. As soon as we got to the campsite I put on 4 layers (2 thermal tops, a fleece jumper and a light down jacket) and was fine pretty much every evening. At night I was toasty warm in my trusty 3 season down sleeping bag with a silk liner (though many people were cold), and on the coldest night we got "hot water bottles" (so glad I took a metal water bottle with me as well as my hydration pouch!). We spent most of the evenings sitting in the dining tent which was warm when everyone was in there, and then a quick run to the tents. I also bit the bullet about my sight issues and just asked for help around the campsite. Everyone was brilliant about helping me out - I usually made it to the dining tent before dark and simply asked someone to escort me back to my tent when it did get dark. Similarly when we had to walk 2 miles along an unlit track back to the campsite in Aguas Calientes, I simply asked someone to guide me and to give me their arm, and they turned out to be an excellent guide dog. There was a time when I wouldn't have summoned up the courage to ask, and would have struggled, but I'm getting better at this now, much though I still hate it and have to pysch myself up to do it. Actually the less I think about it the better. And of course, no one's going to refuse if I ask for help. The one major problem I had was going to the loo in the night, on a couple of nights when there was no way I could negotiate my way to the toilet tent. Luckily it was dark and I just went behind the tent with noone any the wiser. Even more luckily, the night I had a bad stomach, I managed to negotiate my way to the toilet tent (although it was tricky and I did fall in the ditch on two occasions!). Sometimes the guides can be a bit funny about my lack of sight - either choosing to ignore it or being over conscientious (actually I've never had the latter, but I can believe some of them might be). Juan was fantastic - he never brought up the topic and treated me just like anyone else (actually he forgot a few times about my sight, which led to some comedy conversations), but I felt he was always watching out for me just in case. Same with the diabetes, I could sense he was discreetly watching from a distance without making a fuss. On the first day (I think) when I had low blood sugar in the early afternoon, I struggled for a couple of miles and fell to the back of the group. I didn't mention it specifically to Juan, although I think I did mention it to a couple of the group, and he said nothing but walked beside me until I felt better. Or maybe he was just oblivious!


People were also very good about helping me out - whether intentionally or coincidentally, I'm not sure. For example, when we had a toilet stop, it was rare that I could actually figure out where the toilet was. It would usually be in a hut somewhere, that could have been anything. I quickly developed the habit of finding someone else going, and following them, although sometimes it was problematic finding my way back. it might sound odd, but it's worse when there are other people standing around, because you know they're watching you while you're desperately trying to figure out which was the way back. One of my main problems was distinguishing which was the kitchen tent (which we weren't allowed in) and which was the dining tent, as they both looked the same to me and were right next to each other. A couple of times one of the porters had to direct me to the other tent. I tried not to feel too embarrassed and shrugged it off as being tired!

There was only one major disappointment on the trek. On the fourth day we finally reached the Sun Gate and our first view of Macchu Pichu. It was the culmination of our trek and as we finally reached the top, Juan was there waiting to congratulate us on making it, with a big kiss and a hug. I walked through the gate, and it hit me. Nothing. I couldn't see anything interesting at all. All around me, people were gasping and frantically taking photos and celebrating (not just from our group, but from many other groups also). I fought back the tears and wondered what they were all looking at. Finding a quiet spot away from the crowds, I sat down on the edge of a rock and tried to breathe. Had I come all this way for, well, nothing? I should feel exhilarated, but all I felt was terrible sadness and disappointment, not just that I couldn't see anything, but that this was the end of the trek. I wished everyone would hurry up and move on, but it was a long time before everyone even arrived at the gate. Finally I gave myself a good talking to, and dutifully went to take a photo. The problem was, I didn't know where to point my camera. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be looking at or in quite which direction. I aimed my camera at a couple of random points and clicked away. If someone noticed I was pointing it in the wrong direction, I could pretend to be taking a picture of a bird or something. After what seemed like an eternity, I followed the others down to the entrance itself, unusually silent for me. I was determined not to let on how I felt, as I knew no one would really understand. As we rounded the final corner, my whole attitude changed. I saw Macchu Pichu in all its glory, and realised that while I had missed the first view, I could now see pretty much what I'd missed from before, just from closer. And when I finally uploaded my photos to my computer, I discovered I'd actually taken a couple of decent shots from the Sun Gate after all.

In summary, my sight wasn't a big issue on the trip (not that I had thought it would be too much of one), apart from the usual difficulties of campsites at night, diabetes wasn't an issue, although it may have exacerbated the dehydration problems - more on that in another post - and my fitness wasn't a problem (not that I was particularly worried about that). Nor of course was spending 2 weeks with a random group of strangers! I've done enough Exodus trips not to worry about that. Despite being terribly ill (see the next post), it was an amazing holiday. When I came back and recounted all my tales, people said how adventurous I was to do all these things. For me, it's a no-brainer. (1) I love travelling and experiencing new cultures. (2) I love getting out and being active on holiday, and don't particularly like Christmas and the enforced inactivity, fake jollity and consumerism. (3) I don't know how long I have left before my body refuses to cooperate and I lose my sight completely, or my body falls apart in some other way. My mum regrets bitterly having never done the Inca Trail, and there's no way her body can cope with doing it now. I don't want to regret having never done these things while I could. I already mourn the lack of years I had doing some of the things I can't do now: playing cricket amd lacrosse (too dangerous now), playing almost any sport to a much higher level than I now can, doing things like LaserQuest and go-karting, being able to drive a car, and just generally being able to do almost anything more easily than I now can, from shopping to cooking to watching TV to climbing mountains. Whatever experiences I have travelling and being adventurous, they're better than the regrets I would have if I didn't manage to do them.

Travelling solo

When I first lost my sight, I used to ask for assistance at the airport. This meant that once I'd managed to find the check-in (not always easy) someone would whisk me through security and take me right to the gate. Sounds perfect? Well yes, it takes the hassle out of it all. But it's awfully boring arriving at the gate 2 hours early. And sometimes you have to sit and wait for ages before you get someone to come and assist you, especially getting off the plane the other end. And they don't always speak English. Also, often on arrival they insist on you going in a wheelchair or in one of their little cart things, which I hate! I always refuse and they say that I have to. Why don't they let me walk? Probably because they think I'll sue them if they're supposed to be looking after me and I fall over or bump into something. Anyway, if you know me at all, you'll know that I like a bit of adventure and excitement in my life. So I don't bother these days with assistance.

Either way, the first problem is to try to find the relevant check-in. Since I can't read the signs unless I'm right next to them (and sometimes not even then) it can be a non-trivial task to find the relevant check-in desk. Sometimes I've even had to ask the person at the desk if I'm at the right one, but I've been put off doing that after I got the joking response that I was in the wrong place (the guy not realising that I couldn't see), which upset me enormously. I hate people making jokes about things like that when I'm asking a serious question. Finding someone to ask for assistance is also often impossible, as it's hard to find relevant staff and/or to identify them. And because I don't look as if I can't see, they don't realise.

Usually, getting through security isn't too difficult as it's well signposted. But I do struggle with "sheep pen" negotiation. I often can't tell where the entrance to the sheep pen is and wander in the wrong direction, which usually alerts the security as they think I'm going somewhere I shouldn't be! Even worse, actually getting on the right plane can sometimes be a challenge, if you have to go outside and walk across the tarmac, I'm not always sure which is the right plane!

On arrival, passport queues can be tricky - I usually can't tell which is the queue for EU and non-EU passports. I try to guess by looking at the people in each queue, but that doesn't always help these days!

Finally, the very worst part of travelling is getting out of the airport and/or being met by someone. I can't recognise a person holding a sign with my name on, if I'm being met. If it's someone I know, I may well not recognise them either, and they may forget to actually call my name. If I'm making my own way, trying to find the taxi rank or the right bus can be tricky - if it's on the far side of the road I usually can't see the sign. I've spent hours of my life wandering up and down the airport exits trying to find the taxi or bus rank, always to the amusement of some smelly chainsmoking employees. And getting out of a taxi can be as bad - they drop you more or less outside the hotel, but I often can't tell which is the actual building or where the door is. It's usually far too complicated to explain all this to a taxi driver who may not speak English. of course, I could take the easy option and get assistance coming out of the airport too. But where's the adventure in that?

blindness is an adventure not an obstacle

I don't like to do things the easy way. I refuse to let my sight (or lack of it) be an obstacle to getting out there and doing things. And I try to see it as an adventure rather than a hindrance. You can't get much more adventurous than travelling in China, on your own, with very limited sight, no knowledge of Chinese, and just to make things a little more fun, diabetes and yeast intolerance. The latter two mean I have to be very careful about what I eat and drink. Not easy when you have no idea what's in the food you're eating....

On arrival in Shanghai, after nearly 20 hours of travelling and not much sleep, I decided in my wisdom that it would be much more interesting to take the metro from the airport than a taxi to my hotel. It was about 5.30pm when I got through the airport, and already dark outside. I also had a sneaky suspicion that the location of my hotel on google maps didn't bear much resemblance to its real location. But I knew which road it was on, roughly where it was, and had the address in Chinese.

I followed the signs to the metro and managed to find Line 2. No sign of a ticket machine, but there was a bag security check so I dutifully passed my bag through it and collected it on the other side. For some reason I never thought to put my laptop bag through, and no one said anything. It wasn't until after I had done this, that I realised the ticket barrier was right there, and I didn't yet have a ticket. Back out through the entrance and eventually asked an official looking person who pointed me at the ticket machines round the corner. Feeling a bit silly for not having seen them, I followed the instructions on screen and then realised that I only had notes and that the machine I was using only took coins. Found another machine and went through the process again. I had figured out that the stop I wanted was called Shiji Avenue. I could tell because it had about 6 different intersecting lines so I was sure it was the right one (having looked it up on the computer earlier and also written down the name). More on this later... After going through the process again, I got to the point at which I had to pinsert the money and discovered that the biggest denomination note it took was 50CNY, whereas the smallest note I had was 100. Now what to do? I found a desk that looked as if it might be a ticket counter and explained where I wanted to go and handed over 100CNY. The lady changed it for two fifies and pointed me back towards the machines. Ah, so it was just an information desk then. Back to the machines, got my ticket, and found the train.

Now began the confusing part. My ticket was for Shiji Avenue, about 45 minutes on the metro at the vast price of about 60p. Looking at the information in the train, it was all very high techand had little lights showing how far along the route we'd got. It also had announcements in English and Chinese, but I couldn't understand either. I really think I have some kind of hearing problem but I refuse to even consider that as an option. It's bad enough losing your sight, let alone your hearing too. Anyway, I couldn't see Shiji Avenue anywhere on the map. it was definitely Line 2. But Shiji Avenue didn't exist. Hmm. Century Avenue looked to be in the right place and had lots of connections, but I started worrying what would happen if my ticket wasn't valid and wouldn't let me out at the gate! Knowing that any officials were highly unlikely to speak English made me a little anxious. I started practising how I would explain the problem in very simple English and hand signals, but couldn't really come up with any hand signals for "I bought the wrong ticket because I'm a stupid foreigner and I've been travelling for the last 20 hours with no sleep in the last 36 hours or so. Could you please tell me how I can get the right ticket. And where the **** is Shiji Avenue anyway?"

Suddenly the train came to a stop and everyone got off. Now this definitely wasn't anywhere near my destination. What should I do now? I stood hesitantly, not believing that everyone really had to get off, until a young Chinese lady jumped back on the train and said "you have to get off here". I couldn't understand why. Everyone seemed to be crossing to the opposite platform. Again I stood hesitantly - the sign for the other train looked identical to the one I'd just got off. Line 2 going to wherever line 2 goes to... She came back again and almost pushed me onto the other train. Once on the train I managed to get close enough to the map to read tiny sign which said "you may change train here" at the stop we were at. Ah.....I think that means "you MUST change train here". I still have no idea why, but it seems to happen in both directions. Why don't they tell me that in my guide book?

To cut a long story short, I get off the train at Century Avenue and head for the exit. I look for the one that says Fushan Road, my destination, and congratulate myself on my success. I even mange to find Fushan Road once I get outside, and start heading up it in the direction of my map. Of course, it is pitch black and I can't read building numbers as they're too small. The roads are pitch black to me, although to everyone else, it's obviously still light enough to see. I trip over random steps, slither down steep inclines and generally stumble along. I try to walk behind other people so I can tell more easily if they're going up or down something (the height of their head, which I can just make out if i stand close enough) goes up or down when they do. Eventually i start getting to what looks like a more residential area. This doesn't look right so as I reach a bar, i see a young man standing outside and ask him for directions. He looks at me blankly so I pull out the piece of paper with the address in Chinese. He looks worried and suggests a taxi. I insist I can walk - after all, I'm on the right road, so it can't be too difficult, I just need ot know how far away I am. He can't understand my question but points me back in the direction I've come. OK, so clearly the map is wrong. I head back down the road. Eventually I see a street number which is a couple of hundred short of the one I want. I keep going. Then I reach some kind of enormous 7-way intersection. In my mind I know which road I want, but I have to cross several individual roads before I can get there, and I get a little confused. No problem, all the roads have signs on, with English too. There are some little maps at some of the junctions. Funny, Fushan Road has now disappeared from the signs, and at least 3 of them say "Century Avenue". This can't be right. The maps all appear to tell me I'm at the same point, no matter at which intersection I look. I cross backwards and forwards over several roads, trying to decide which one looks most likely. I ask a few more passersby, all of whom look blank and shrug. Finally I ask a newspaper seller (well, I show her the address in Chinese) and she points down the road. Aha, now I must be nearly there. I keep walking, and again it goes pitch dark and I can see no street numbers. How far am I? I reach another hotel and decide to ask the doorman for help. Surely he must know where my hotel is. Another shrug and an offer of a taxi. No thanks. This is getting ridiculous. I am covered in sweat (though the air is cool), my blood sugar is low but I'm too anxious to get there to do anything about it, so I turn my insulin pump off and hope for the best. I keep going and ask again. Finally someone tells me that Fushan Road is just round the corner. Funny that, about 3 people just told me I was already on Fushan Road. Oh well, let's try. I turn down an even darker street and walk along. I reach some kind of brightly lit plaza and ask another young couple for help. They have no idea but they ask a nearby waiting taxi driver if he knows. They come back smiling and laughing and point across the street. "It's right there!". I still can't see anything but I take their word for it and wonder how far "right there" actually means. I walk past some unlikely looking buildings and suddenly realise they were correct, I am actually standing outside the hotel. Hurrah! Well the supposed 10 minute walk from the metro took only an hour and a half. Somehow, instead of being annoyed, I am at the same time both deeply relieved and also feel, somewhat oddly, slightly victorious that I have finally found my destination despite all the obstacles. I can't even contemplate the thought of going out to find dinner, once I reach my room. Although had I had better sight, I would have realised that the building immediately opposite my hotel is a supermarket. I only discover this when the following day an American gentleman asks where the nearest supermarket is....Hmm well I guess he didn't realise that either! I much my emergency biscuits in my room, ravenous but far too terrified of going out and getting lost again!

Footnote: the following day, I try to navigate my way from the same metro stop to the hotel and it also takes me 1 1/2 hours and a lot of getting lost! But I now have a slightly better idea of where it is - if I can find the building with the big red lights on, then I am OK. better still, I discovered the hotel is about 10 yards from another metro stop. I think I'll use line 6 in future!