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Relations between Libya and the
UK are thawing. A new embassy in Kensington is dispensing visas.
British Airways and Libyan Airlines are carrying oil workers, businessman
to Tripoli several times a week. So it's 'all clear' for UK travellers
to trade political preconceptions and strong drink (Libya is 'dry')
and enjoy this fascinating North African country.
 There
is little crime or unemployment and tourists are not pestered for
baksheesh. Thanks to Gadaffi's 'man-made' river the water is safe.
The hotels and restaurants in Tripoli are excellent. Libyan women
wear simple headscarves with their modern clothes, can venture out
alone, and are allowed to drive. The roads are good and fuel only
costs 7 pence a litre. The historical monuments are more than worth
a three and a half hour flight from the UK, not to mention the romance
of the desert.
Around 12,000 BC the people who roamed the once
lush savannah, hunted elephant, giraffe, rhino, ostrich and crocodile.
They were also talented artists who engraved their observations
in the rocky cliffs above the many rivers with a purity of line
of which Picasso would have been envious. In fact twelve thousand
years of civilisation can be charted through the engravings and
delicate rock paintings of the area: the slow march of climate change,
the shift from hunting to pastoral pursuits, tribal differences,
mysterious religious ceremonies, the introduction of the horse and
finally as the desert encroached, the camel.
The Romans relied on trade routes from Africa to
the port of Leptis Magna (one hour east of Tripoli for vital shipments
of ivory, slaves, plus thirty-five thousand wild animals sent to
Rome for gladiatorial displays. These are graphically shown in Ridley
Scott's film Gladiator which is set in the reign of the decadent
Emperor Commodus (son of Marcus Aurelius). His lust for bloody displays
in the arena helped make Leptis rich and made one of its citizens,
Septimus Severius, a Libyan, Emperor of Rome. And incredibly, the
remains of the city of Leptis with its theatre, temples, courts
of justice, market, saunas, latrines, hunting baths, lighthouse
and an intact amphitheatre are in an excellent state of repair.
As is the Roman city of Sabratha (half an hour West of Tripoli),
and the Greek cities of Apollonia and Cyrenica near Benghazi.
Positives
Few tourists, Archaeological treasure chest, the Sahara desert,
the Tuareg people
 Negatives
It is inadvisable to talk politics and inadmissible to bring in
alcohol or a penknife
Activities
View the best preserved Greek and Roman cities in the world on the
Mediterranean coast.
See the rock art of the Sahara charting 12,000 years of civilisation.
Enjoy the romance of the desert.
Best time to Travel
October to April
Clothing
Summer clothes from midday, ski jackets morning and evening. Warm
pyjamas for desert nights.
Food
Good. North African and Italian
Shopping
Date Jam (Food Shops), Honey, Olive Oil in season (roadside stalls,
Tripoli) Tuareg Silver Jewellery (Oases Um El Maa/Tripoli Soukh),
Antique Bedouin Carpets/Shawls (Tripoli Soukh)
Restaurants
El Bore - Tripoli Soukh - best local food
Café Commercio, Green Square, Tripoli - best cappuccino
 Days
of Heaven by Angela Clarence The Observer 21 May, 2000
Relations between Libya and the UK are thawing.
A new embassy in Kensington is dispensing visas. British Airways
and Libyan Airlines are carrying oil workers, businessman to Tripoli
several times a week. So it's 'all clear' for UK travellers to trade
political preconceptions and strong drink (Libya is 'dry') and enjoy
this fascinating North African country. Lunching under an acacia
tree in Wadi Mathhendusc, a dry riverbed dissecting the Messak plateau
of the South West Libyan desert - the 'Fezzan - I discovered a Stone
Age cutting tool lying at my feet. Not an unusual occurrence, for
millions of pre-historic relics - spear heads, arrow heads, crushing
and cutting tools, shards of pottery and ostrich eggshells - litter
the plateau, the high dunes, the dry wadi beds and the verdant oases
of the 'Fezzan'. A veritable open-air museum.
Around 12,000 BC the people who roamed the once
lush savannah, hunted elephant, giraffe, rhino, ostrich and crocodile.
They were also talented artists who engraved their observations
in the rocky cliffs above the many rivers with a purity of line
of which Picasso would have been envious. They depicted the gentle
movements of giraffes, the lumbering bulk of rhino, the last moments
of a dying elephant and the lassooing of a group of ostriches. All
with a purity of line of which Picasso would have been envious.
In fact twelve thousand years of civilization can be charted through
the engravings and delicate rock paintings of the area: the slow
march of climate change, the shift from hunting to pastoral pursuits,
tribal differences, mysterious religious ceremonies, the introduction
of the horse and finally as the desert encroached, the camel.
The water still runs deep below the surface of
the wadis that criss-cross the Fezzan and it is here that scrubby
trees, bushes and scratchy grass support myriad animal life. The
evidence is in the sand. The droppings of camel, goat, gazelle and
ibex. The spoor of a fox poised above a gerbil burrow, a bird picking
off a dying lizard, the antics of kangaroo mice (who hop on hind
legs only) and the scurrying scarab beetle. But to catch sight of
a fox or gerbil one must sleep out under the chock-full-of stars
desert sky and I had chosen a more luxurious option.
With more than thirty years desert experience,
Italians Sergio Scarpa Falce and his wife Adrianna have fulfilled
a long cherished dream of organising a fixed camp deep in the Sahara
from which to inculcate tourists in the beauty and diversity of
the desert. Deep in the Acacus mountains in a stunning amphitheatre
topped with rock sculptures whittled by the wind they have created
'Camp Auis'. The twenty double tents have wooden floors, comfortable
beds, feather duvets/pillows and electric light from 7-10:30. Hot
water is brought to your tent in the morning for a splash wash at
your basin, as well as hot, sweet tea. Each tent is assigned its
own private loo and shower in a separate block. Showers are taken
in the late afternoon after the water has had time to heat up, but
plans are underway for guaranteeing hot water via solar power by
next year. The dining room is well supplied by excellent local produce
(grown without chemical fertilisers or pesticides), supplemented
by shipments of food from Italy, Egypt and Tunisia. A well is mooted
for the camp and the local village, in the meantime, water is brought
in by tankers, siphoned from the desert aquifers in part of Gadaffi's
great 'man made river' project. And the water is good. There is
no fear of gippy tummy in Libya.
 I
spent four days and nights at the tented camp and each was filled
with new surprises. In the ever-changing landscape of the desert
we met one of the seven remaining nomadic families in Libya; we
saw a camel giving birth; we wandered through wadis accompanied
by chirping mulla mulla birds; we raced across the desert plains
in four wheel drive Toyotas at 90 kilometres, our Tuareg drivers
vying with each other to get there first (wherever "there" was);
we leapt over impossible, impassable dunes, whipped into geometric
knife-edges by the ever-present desert wind; we came across cracked,
salt lakes where strange, bulbous trees live and die; snowy white
patches of gypsum; swathes of green plants with pale purple flowers,
a consequence of three days rain two months before; and unforgettably,
the great blue-green slashes of still water, fringed with succulent
date palms and stands of pampas grass, that comprise the beautiful
oases of Um El Maa, Mandara, Mafu and Gabraoun, where turtle doves
flutter through the air, tiny pink shrimps swirl in the water and,
on that occasion, a solitary white camel was tethered on the shady
bank.
White camels are highly prized and our Targi driver,
Barka, told me that his family have won races across the Arab world
with his fifteen-strong herd. In high summer he will leave his village
and go with his family, and his camels, into the desert. The temperature
will be fifty degrees but it is the only time they can simply 'be'
there. When I explained that England has no desert, he exclaimed
sadly 'then there is no yellow'. The Tuareg are not of Libya, Algeria,
Niger, or Mali, they are the people of the Sahara. Their native
tongue, Tamashek uses neither Arabic or Roman script. But they have
had to adapt, taking Libyan nationality, settling in villages and
learning Arabic, and French, or Italian and English. Proud, honest
and exceedingly generous, they are a joy to be around. They acted
as drivers, guides and cooks, regaling us with traditional songs,
dispensing chilled water from goat skin bags, and on one occasion
picking herbs from a desert bush to alleviate constipation! Every
day after lunch they brewed Tuareg champagne - strong green tea
boiled over a driftwood fire, poured from a height to make cappuccino-like
foam, then reheated and poured into small glasses with plenty of
sugar. They seemed to genuinely enjoy showing us their territory.
 The
Tuareg were a thorn in the side of ancient Rome, plundering the
trade routes from Africa to the port of Leptis Magna (one hour east
of Tripoli). Eventually the Romans were forced to make peace, safeguarding
the vital shipments of ivory, slaves, plus thirty-five thousand
wild animals sent to Rome for gladitorial displays. These are graphically
shown in Ridley Scott' s new film Gladiator which is set in the
reign of the decadent Emperor Commodus (son of Marcus Aurelius).
His lust for bloody displays in the arena helped make Leptis rich
and made one of its citizens, Septimus Severius, a Libyan, Emperor
of Rome. And incredibly, the remains of the city of Leptis with
its theatre, temples, courts of justice, market, saunas, latrines,
hunting baths, lighthouse and an intact amphitheatre are in an excellent
state of repair. As is the Roman city of Sabratha (half an hour
West of Tripoli), and the Greek cities of Apollonia and Cyrenica
near Benghazi.
Libya is an easy country to visit. There is little
crime or unemployment and tourists are not pestered for baksheesh.
Libyan women wear simple headscarves with their modern clothes,
can venture out alone and are allowed to drive. Thanks to Gadaffi's
'man-made' river the water is safe. The hotels and restaurants in
Tripoli are excellent. The roads are good and fuel costs 7 pence
a litre! The historical monuments are more than worth a three and
a half hour flight, not to mention the romance of the desert. Not
to be missed.
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