25 years after the event (March 2022) I am starting to write up the wonderful 1997 trip Janie and I took to see Lebanon, Syria and Jordan, followed by some restful time in Eilat.
Hopefully my diary/log together with the many pictures we took will prompt my memory to tell the whole story, as my notes are light and even the Abercrombie and Kent itinerary (a bespoke jobbie for us as independent travellers) seems to have gone walkabout in the intervening quarter of a century.
Writing about it now is tinged with sadness, as I realise that many of the things we saw have been destroyed and can never be seen again. The artisan depicted in the headline photo, working away in the Aleppo Souk, is but one example of that.
The photos have been available on Flickr for some time, so Ogblog readers who like to look at pictures and read captions can glean much about the journey without reading the Ogblog pieces.
Here are links to the pictures divided by country visited:
The Ogblog pieces (will) mostly cover a day each, with highlights from the photo albums (and some stock photos where desires/required) to illustrate the stories.
For reasons I hardly need to explain, we then did very little during the day, apart from lounging, reading and swimming.
In particular, we tended to skip lunch, other than perhaps some nuts and a beer.
We befriended a camel, whom we named Cadissa, convinced that this single camel had followed us all around the Levant and was now resting up in Eilat along with us. On subsequent holidays in the Middle East and Maghreb we would often encounter Cadissa again…or so we would say, anyway.
Cadissa was there on business that morning
In short, we had a very relaxing and enjoyable break at that place. Although we don’t normally go for that type of big hotel, it was just the ticket after a rigorous touring holiday.
Our flight home was quite late in the day, so we made an impromptu arrangement for our transport vehicle to give us a brief look around Tel Aviv-Yafo before we went on to the airport. I think we had used up all of our film ahead of that mini tour; in any case we have no pictures from it. Janie hadn’t seen any of it before – I hadn’t been up top to see the contrast of and views from Yafo before.
…I was given quite a grilling on exit by an Israeli security guy, who perhaps found our Lebanon, Syria & Jordan trip a matter of concern. He tried to wrong-foot me by telling me that I had been inconsistent in my account of where we had been.
When I repeated what I had said and then shown him the Abercrombie & Kent itinerary, he apologised to me and then let me through.
An apology from an official – there’s a first time and a last time for everything I suppose.
You can see all the pictures from this trip in a single, 300+ picture album, by clicking here or below.
The sixth port of call was Israel (presumably the Port of Ashdod), from whence we went to Jerusalem for the day. Our visit was just a few weeks before the outbreak of the Yom Kippur War, which must have put a stop to such touring for some while.
Still, several stereo photographs, some “monos” from which are shown below.
I remember little about this day, other than being super excited (to use the modern phrase) ahead of it and super exhausted (I’m SO modern) after it.
The Shrine Of The BookThe Western WallDig For King David’s CityEl Aqsa Mosque
No surviving cine for Jerusalem, as the film was spoiled, as I described in the preceding piece, much to our (especially my mum’s) dismay.
Fifty years later, writing in August 2023, I can state with conviction that sea cruises are extremely fashionable amongst the travelling classes, while Janie and I are both relentlessly keen to avoid such holidays.
But in 1973, ahead of my eleventh birthday, my parents took me on this Mediterranean cruise ahead of me starting at Alleyn’s School for my secondary education.
Context
I suspect that dad bought our holiday at a bucket shop price in a travel agent on or near St John’s Hill Battersea (near his shop) and I suspect that it was sold to dad as a “holiday of a lifetime”.
In truth, we were probably lucky that it didn’t lead to an extreme shortening of all our lifetimes. Our ship, the Delphi, was part of a cobbled together fleet of ships owned by Costas Efthymiades, one of whose crowded tubs, the Heleanna, had caught fire and led to dozens of fatalities on my birthday two year’s earlier. “Hold the front page!” news even in the Evening Sentinel, although the typesetter, in their rush, seems to have jumbled the headline!
While word of the above tragedy and the negligence cases that arose from it almost certainly evaded my father, I don’t suppose it had a positive impact on the market for that particular family of passenger ships. Hence, I’m just guessing here, the bucket shop price that I imagine would have attracted dad at that time.
Hold on…wait a minute…SW11 5RG – Lavender Hill – dad must have known some of those Clarkson’s people. I bet dad didn’t pay £73 per head.
Our tub, The Delphi, was probably not quite such a death trap as the ill-fated Heleanna. It had started its life primarily as a passenger ship, Ferdinand de Lesseps, rather than a cargo ship, so its conversion to a cruise ship was probably more appropriate and safer.
I do remember the days at sea feeling very crowded, albeit fun-packed for kids like me. The first two-and-a-half minutes of the cine film (see links below) looks even more crowded than the following photo.
Still, I have very happy memories of this holiday. We even cruised again as a family, one last time, a couple of year’s later. By that time, I think I was able to express my opinion: I loved seeing lots of different places on a holiday, but I did not love being on a cruise ship.
Itinerary
I didn’t start keeping a diary until 1974, so I have had to try and reconstruct the itinerary from the photographic/cinematographic materials (see links), from memory and from a vague sense of routing, geography and timings. There might be some inaccuracies:
18 August – Day Zero: Streatham -> Luton Airport -> Porto di Rimini;
Historians might note that, within a year, all of the countries we visited, with the exception of Yugoslavia, had been involved in a war. Within a few weeks of our trip, Clarkson’s Cruise-Jet holidays were avoiding the Lebanon and Israel stops as a result of the Yom Kippur war, which made the term “Holy Land Cruise” somewhat of a misnomer.
Links
There is a movie of this holiday. Not one of dad’s best; he/we never got around to adding a commentary so the soundtrack is just music. Also there was some film spoilage which destroyed most of the film from Lebanon and all of the Israel/Crete footage is lost.
Dad’s main shtick for this holiday was Stereo (3D) still photography. Here is a link to the digitised stereos I have painstakingly made from the stereo transparencies.
Stereo images in stereo – click the above picture link
You either need a viewing gadget or extremely strong eyes trained to be able to see stereo images in stereo.
The following link shows the stereo images in mono, as it were:
Stereo images in mono – all the left ones followed by all the right ones – click the above picture link
There are also a few prints from the single roll of film dad put into his ordinary camera. They are mostly pictures taken with flash in the evenings. Dad clearly forgot about this roll for some time – there is one picture from December of 1973 in the little batch of prints and they are all dated May 1974. Fifty years later, can you imagine anyone waiting nine months between snapping and seeing the results.
Print scans – just a few – click the above picture link
The expression “cobblers children” comes to mind. I expect dad took the camera with the half-finished roll to the shop with a view to doing something or other with it and then “rediscovered it” months later – possibly on more than one procrastinating occasion.
Day Zero: Streatham To Porto di Rimini via Luton Airport
Nowhere in the materials we have retained does it mention Rimini – I just firmly remember that we embarked and disembarked there. In my mind for much of my childhood that place was a major port from whence the Mediterranean opened up. Most likely it was a place where Clarkson’s and/or Efthymiades had done a good deal, because it doesn’t otherwise make sense to start and end a Greek islands/Holy Land cruise at Rimini.
I remember that Dad was very excited that we would be flying on a Lockheed TriStar, which was a relatively new plane at that time.
This holiday was my first, and to date only, experience of flying from and to Luton Airport. For much of the remainder of my childhood, I took pleasure in having been there, whenever the then ubiquitous Campari advert was shown:
I remember little about my journeys to and from Luton Airport, but paradise it wasn’t.
