So eventually you pack your bag, get the flight and
meet up with everyone else at the pre-departure hotel.
First thing you do, even though you swore that it didn’t matter, is to check out the group to see who’s cute.
Then you check out their clothing, footwear etc to see who looks as though they’ve just bought them for the trip (obviously not an experienced traveller) or who has good stuff but well worn (experienced traveller) or who has cheap grotty kit that’s falling apart (waster who’ll always be looking out for what he can cadge and who never buys a round at the bar).
To save a lot of hassle and time getting to know people overland groups nearly always have a mix of the following types of persons –
You, completely normal, no phobias, nice person, willing to save the planet and hug trees.
The woman running away from a difficult relationship who thinks being on an overland will give her time to find the answer (trust me, no it wont).
The guy who everyone thinks is gay but states he has a girlfriend at home and slips up from time to time with what her name is, where she works and her date of birth and blushes whenever the driver/leader talks to him.
The two lads out for some crumpet.
The younger couple in love who always blow kisses at each other (not for long, they’re on an overland, I’ll give it three weeks before they’re at each others throat and refuse to share a tent together).
The stunning looking girl/woman who becomes instrumental in the split up of the couple because she is insecure in herself and turns to the “safe” guy, the one in a relationship, for help. He sees her vulnerable side and just “wants to help” (get in her knickers more like).
The dirty, smelly young ageing hippy type who smells of urine and stale sweat all the time who no-one wants to sit next to on the truck.
The “know it all” who prefaces every sentence with “When I was in……”
The one who compares every bit of scenery with their home country e.g. “It just looks like a smaller version of Sydney Harbour Bridge”.
The girl or man who wants to bed the driver.
The “thoroughly nice bloke” who is actually a violent drunk.
The bewildered couple that take photos of every last thing as though they’re on a foreign planet and no-one really knows how they got on the trip and plucked up the courage to come.
The guy who always wants to go somewhere else and can say nothing other than “Why don’t we go to ……on the trip. It’s so much better than here”
The man/woman who asks all the daft questions, e.g. “Why do they (the Maasai) drink cows blood mixed with milk? Don’t they know it’s disgusting and unhealthy?”
“If I phone my mother, will she be at home?”
“Why is he cleaning his teeth with that stick, can’t they afford toothpaste here?”
My favourite question, asked whilst sitting in a beach café on Zanzibar, “How high above sea level are we?”
Answer, “Which part of your body are you talking about?”
And they’re the one who always calls the truck a “bus”. Grrrrrr.
Last but not least, the “Walking Lonely Planet”. This is the one who, whenever the leader gives out some information on a place or activity, always disagrees and says, “Well, it says in the Lonely Planet (e.g.) …it only cost twenty dollars and you’re telling us it’s thirty dollars.”
(this person suddenly finds their copy of the LP has been used to light the fire or is hanging up on a piece of string in the campsite toilet with various sheets ripped out.)
Note – Lonely Planet paper is no good for wiping bottom with, the sheets are too slippery, causes smearing rather than cleaning, especially the photo pages.
You start the trip on the first day after the usual polite shuffle as to who’s going to sit where. This ends on day 4 when everyone realises what are the best seats and will rush on to grab them.
After a week you notice a lot of conversations are about food.
After a few weeks you realise you have a magic rucksack. You put clothes in there you could swear blind were dirty, but when you compare them with what you have on, they seem remarkably clean. Maybe the rucksack, if left alone for several days, will clean all your clothes?!
First thing you do, even though you swore that it didn’t matter, is to check out the group to see who’s cute.
Then you check out their clothing, footwear etc to see who looks as though they’ve just bought them for the trip (obviously not an experienced traveller) or who has good stuff but well worn (experienced traveller) or who has cheap grotty kit that’s falling apart (waster who’ll always be looking out for what he can cadge and who never buys a round at the bar).
To save a lot of hassle and time getting to know people overland groups nearly always have a mix of the following types of persons –
You, completely normal, no phobias, nice person, willing to save the planet and hug trees.
The woman running away from a difficult relationship who thinks being on an overland will give her time to find the answer (trust me, no it wont).
The guy who everyone thinks is gay but states he has a girlfriend at home and slips up from time to time with what her name is, where she works and her date of birth and blushes whenever the driver/leader talks to him.
The two lads out for some crumpet.
The younger couple in love who always blow kisses at each other (not for long, they’re on an overland, I’ll give it three weeks before they’re at each others throat and refuse to share a tent together).
The stunning looking girl/woman who becomes instrumental in the split up of the couple because she is insecure in herself and turns to the “safe” guy, the one in a relationship, for help. He sees her vulnerable side and just “wants to help” (get in her knickers more like).
The dirty, smelly young ageing hippy type who smells of urine and stale sweat all the time who no-one wants to sit next to on the truck.
The “know it all” who prefaces every sentence with “When I was in……”
The one who compares every bit of scenery with their home country e.g. “It just looks like a smaller version of Sydney Harbour Bridge”.
The girl or man who wants to bed the driver.
The “thoroughly nice bloke” who is actually a violent drunk.
The bewildered couple that take photos of every last thing as though they’re on a foreign planet and no-one really knows how they got on the trip and plucked up the courage to come.
The guy who always wants to go somewhere else and can say nothing other than “Why don’t we go to ……on the trip. It’s so much better than here”
The man/woman who asks all the daft questions, e.g. “Why do they (the Maasai) drink cows blood mixed with milk? Don’t they know it’s disgusting and unhealthy?”
“If I phone my mother, will she be at home?”
“Why is he cleaning his teeth with that stick, can’t they afford toothpaste here?”
My favourite question, asked whilst sitting in a beach café on Zanzibar, “How high above sea level are we?”
Answer, “Which part of your body are you talking about?”
And they’re the one who always calls the truck a “bus”. Grrrrrr.
Last but not least, the “Walking Lonely Planet”. This is the one who, whenever the leader gives out some information on a place or activity, always disagrees and says, “Well, it says in the Lonely Planet (e.g.) …it only cost twenty dollars and you’re telling us it’s thirty dollars.”
(this person suddenly finds their copy of the LP has been used to light the fire or is hanging up on a piece of string in the campsite toilet with various sheets ripped out.)
Note – Lonely Planet paper is no good for wiping bottom with, the sheets are too slippery, causes smearing rather than cleaning, especially the photo pages.
You start the trip on the first day after the usual polite shuffle as to who’s going to sit where. This ends on day 4 when everyone realises what are the best seats and will rush on to grab them.
After a week you notice a lot of conversations are about food.
After a few weeks you realise you have a magic rucksack. You put clothes in there you could swear blind were dirty, but when you compare them with what you have on, they seem remarkably clean. Maybe the rucksack, if left alone for several days, will clean all your clothes?!