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Category: archive
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Country Statistics: highest population density
Country tatistics: highest population density.
Rank
Country
Population
Area (km²)
Density
6,445,398,968
510,072,000
13
1
449,198
25.40
17,685
2
32,409
1.95
16,620
3
4,425,720
692.70
6,389
4
6,898,686
1,092
6,317
5
27,884
6.50
4,290
6
1,376,289
360
3,823
7
921
0.44
2,093
8
398,534
316
1,261
9
65,365
53.30
1,226
10
349,106
300
1,164
Source:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_population_density
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Traveller's Diseases: Bird Flu
What is it: there are believed to be at least 15 different
types of avian flu that routinely infect birds around the world.
The current outbreak is caused by a strain known as H5N1, which is
highly contagious among birds and rapidly fatal. Unfortunately,
unlike many other strains of avian flu, it can be transmitted to
humans, causing severe illness and death.How do I get it: human cases have been blamed on direct
contact with infected chickens and their droppings. People who
catch the virus from birds can pass it on to other humans, although
the disease is generally milder in those who caught it from an
infected person rather than from birds.What happens if I get it: bird flu can cause a range of
symptoms in humans – some patients report fever, cough, sore throat
and muscle aches. Others suffer from eye infections, pneumonia,
acute respiratory distress and other severe and life-threatening
complications.Diagnose and treatment: flu drugs exist that may be used
both to prevent people from catching bird flu and to treat those
who have it. Currently there is no vaccine, although scientists are
working to develop one.How can I avoid contracting rabies: the World Health
Organization recommends that infected or exposed flocks of chickens
and other birds be killed in order to help prevent further spread
of the virus and reduce opportunities for human infection. However,
the agency warns that safety measures must be taken to prevent
exposure to the virus among workers involved in culling.
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First Impressions by Sue Button
From 25,000 feet the view of the Tanzanian coastline with its coral
reefs, long sandy bays and azure blue sea looks like a classic
glossy travel brochure. And the 15-minute drive from Mtwara airport
reveals tantalising glimpses of the Indian Ocean between the exotic
display of palm and baobab trees. But as we enter Mikindani village
I'm looking more carefully at the scenery – for me this
isn't an exotic holiday destination; this is to be my home.I've already been advised that the first two weeks will be in
'Homestay' i.e. living with a local family, so I'm
interested to see what the local homes look like. I know that I
won't be staying in one of the daub and wattle huts, but in one
of the old stone houses. Sounds good. But the first stone houses
that we pass, although inhabited, appear to be in total ruin..?
Becky introduces me to my host, Mr Sijaona. He is a
small wiry man with a purposeful stride. He welcomes me into his
house. I gaze around at the crumbling walls and the total lack of
comfort. But then he says in halting English that his other house
is better, (two wives, therefore two houses) – so I pick up my
suitcase and follow him down the dusty street.His other house is in a rather worse state of disrepair. The
ceiling of the front room is in a pile behind the door. I can't
see much detail, as the inside of the house is inky black after the
bright sunshine outside. He pulls aside an old piece of cloth to
show me to my quarters. I have arrived.I can't deny that during that first evening I wonder what on
earth I'm doing. Waves of panic alternate with interest, and
frustration. I want to ask a hundred questions; which is your wife
and who are all the other girls, children and women; what are we
going to eat for dinner and how is it prepared, how does the family
get water, how many people live in this house,…. but I
can't seem to make myself understood, or at least the answers
in halting English don't match my questions. I'm clutching
my 'Teach Yourself Swahili' but at this stage it might as
well be 'Astrophysics for Beginners'.By Day Four I'm beginning to make a bit more sense of my
surroundings. I've wandered around the Boma and its grounds,
visited a couple of schools, explored the village, the waterfront
and the yacht club, but more importantly had time to watch and chat
to local people. 'Chatting' takes the form of sign
language, my pathetic attempts at Swahili greetings, and local
people's various standards of English. Mr Sijaona and his
family are being wonderfully patient and helpful. I went with him
yesterday to water his garden and help him plant sweet potatoes.
Yesterday morning wife number 2 (you see, I am beginning to
find things out) sat with me for over an hour teaching me how to
plait grasses into a tape which forms the basis of a mat. And this
morning Mr Sijaona showed me how to weave a basket from palm
leaves.They are delighted to teach me these things and are willing me to
absorb the Swahili they keep throwing my way. If only I could
absorb it all quickly. But it's “Pole pole catchy
monkey”. I'll get there!
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Mac's Travel Reminiscences
We are sorry to say that Mac is not very well, but he is still
e-mailing strong and recently sent the Beetle a collection of
travel reminiscences about Australia, camels which takes us to
India and then back to Australia.In Alice Springs Australia I stayed in an Anglican (Church) Hostel.
I was pleased but surprised that they sold
beer in this church hostel. Nothing wrong with this especially
since it was Australia but something different. When we arrived in
Alice Springs the bus driver got a broom and swept off the dust
from our suitcases. I guess the Coober Pedy, where the author of
article below stared his safari from was that town, that was mostly
underground as it was so hot. Even the chapel or church was underground where I went to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.
They dug and searched for emeralds underground. You
paid a few dollars and you could dig for same.I think maybe they planted inferior or cheap emeralds so tourist
could discover them but maybe it was genuine. On our bus going to
the outback there were two drivers, double springs, double air
conditioning and one tub full of ice in aisle way where people put
beer (it was the Holidays). We stopped at one out of the way shack
and it was full of grizzled natives.We had a British lady with us that was dressed as if she was going
to a party at Buckingham Palace and she carried a dainty parasol.
The grizzled natives decided they would have some fun with this
British lady. They said. You know when Prince Philip was in
Australia he went with a native girl. The lady replied “Good
for him!” It turned out she was a journalist and had been
around and could pass out the repartee too. I used the term Safari
which in Africa means any kind of journey I am told, but don't
know if they call them that in Australia.I am reminded of camels. One of the reasons I did not enjoy a camel safari in Rajasthan was because we
did not have an entertaining fun group of people and
we did not see much except sand dunes. I am a sightseer and want to
see things. Ha! It was kind of boring but another time I might have
enjoyed it. I really did enjoy the cities with their castles and
their colourful people in colourful garb in Rajasthan and it was
kind of medieval or something. It was just that I was kind of out
of sorts on that day of camel riding. Sometimes on a lengthy trip
you need to stop travelling and just sleep or rest for a day or two
(kind of a vacation within a vacation) and then continue on. I was
trying to see all of India in one trip. I later returned two more
times and by then I was more adjusted to India and really enjoyed
it. I only recommend India though to people that can kind of rough
it and don't get too upset by poverty. Poverty in warm
countries where they have large family support does not bother me
as much as poverty in cold countries. I saw a lady in Nepal sitting
on the ground trying to sell six peanuts. Come to think of it,
tourists were giving her money so maybe she knew what she was
doing.Back to Australia: there is an article in the January 2001
Smithsonian Magazine titled For Dromedary Trekkers in
Australia's outback its Camelot in the Desert by Derek
Grzelewski, photographs by Mark S Wesler. The Author had seen a
sign earlier on a camel farm “For those of you who have never
ridden a camel we have camels that have never been ridden
before”. Here is a condensation of the rather lengthy but
interesting article.It was a 150 mile desert trek on two dozen dromedaries from
Archaring Hills north of Coober Pedy toward Witjaira National Park.
The camels go in single file with three weeks of provisions (swags
(sleeping rolls) and 100 gallons of water). The human participants would
ride only an average of two hours a day taking turns sharing the
two camels that were not carrying supplies and equipment. The rest
of the time they walked beside the camels. (Me/Mac speaking now: I
one time took about a two hour safari on camel out of Rajasthan
India. Maybe it was a half day. I had forgotten about it until I
read this article. The camels and their keepers in Australia
originally came from Rajasthan, India or Northern India and
Pakistan. The five seasoned cameleers and eight adventurers in
Australia might have been on camels that were ancestors of the
camel I tried to ride.The author describes the trip as a gentle rocking motion that one
could read a book while riding. (Me, I remember my ride as mildly
uncomfortable. My camel was smelly and had bad breath worse than
mine. In Egypt outside Pyramids the touts will tell you if you are
an American that your camels name is Coca Cola. If you are Canadian
they will tell you that your camels name is Canadian Club, if
German your name is Heineken. Same camel. I disliked the camel I
rode in Rajasthan so much that I did not ask its name.All I could think of was I want to get back to civilization and get
a cold beer. We had no beer with us. Perhaps it was forbidden.
Drunken tourists and drunken camels would have been more fun.
Camels can do without water for weeks but I couldn't go a
couple of hours without beer. Camels can travel 600 miles without
drinking if food is succulent (plants) and the air cool. These
camels and handlers (known as Afghans or simply Ghans) brought from
India many years ago were used to haul supplies to remote mines and
sheep stations. Also sleepers for the Transcontinental Railway and
the first piano arrived in Alice Springs lashed to the hump of a
camel. Between 10,000 and 20,000 were released to the desert to
fend for themselves when the Ghans became unemployed and could not feed their camels. The camels
thrived in the desert and doubled their population every six to ten
years.There are now as many as 40,000 out in the desert. “The once
unsurpassed beast of burden became simply a beast and a
burden.” Now the Australians find camel meat lean and tasty
and the fur and hides are used for crafts and clothing. The author
did not say how much trip cost. Mine out of Rajasthan was
reasonable and I got it from one of their Government sponsored
hotels in Rajasthan. Now for a quiz for my generation: was the Arab
on the package of Camel cigarettes riding the camel, standing
beside the camel or leading the camel? Answer: he was not sitting
on the camel, standing beside the camel or leading the camel. He
was behind the pyramid in the picture taking a sh_t.Happy Camel Riding. Mac
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Steve Cheetham Visits Northern Chile
This is the first in a series of trip reports sent to the
Beetle by Globetrotter Steve who is travelling around South
America and Easter Island, the lucky chap! So, if you
are planning trip to Suth America or are interested in
knowing more about it, you may find Steve’s trip
reports of interest.Life has it's ups and downs. On Tuesday I started the
journey with a tour to the Altiplano National Parks.
There were just three of us in the group, myself and two
Germans. We went first to the local farmer’s
market to stock up on fresh vegetables and fruit for picnics
on the trip. Then we headed inland for a view of
ancient petroglyphs showing herdsmen and llamas. There
was a tomato farm nearby where we bought fresh produce,
exceptionally huge tomatoes.The next call was a Hari Krishne monastery where we had lunch
and then started to climb. It was the main road to La
Paz and there were some heavy lorries on the road, one of
which had started to roll backwards and had come a
cropper. We called at a fortified site over 2000 years
old where the entrance to a fertile valley was guarded by a
series of semi circular walls. The countryside was now
very dry and we climbed through an area of cactus found only
in that area of Chile. Near Socompa we went for a short
walk down an Inca roadway and we started to see the first
wild guanaco and llamas in the fields. We entered the
village of Sacompa and looked at the very old church with its
squat detached tower. From there we climbed to Putre
where we were to stop for the evening. Unfortunately
for me I was unable to eat the evening meal as I was feeling
light-headed and wasn’t hungry. I had a very poor
night’s sleep and was sick in the morning.
Nevertheless I set off with the group up to Lauca National
Park. There were spectacular views of the volcano
across the lake and vicuña to be seen. The group
went for a walk but I wasn't feeling well enough to go
and so stayed with the vehicle. In fact I slept most of
the time they were away. When they returned I was unable to
keep fluids down. We returned to Pucalpa as planned but
once there the group leader took me to a doctor who said my
blood pressure was dangerously low because of the altitude
and I needed to travel down to sea level immediately.
They tested my blood pressure before oxygen, while breathing
oxygen through a mask and then again after the mask was taken
off. It immediately fell to very low levels. And
so the tour leader drove me down to Arica immediately and the
tour carried on without me.The next day my appetite returned a little. I got a bus
to Iquique and booked into a hotel for a couple of nights
there. Iquique is a very strange city. It is set
at the foot of cliffs that must be above 3000 feet
high. An enormous sand dune extends into the Southern
part of the city. The old downtown area was very run
down and poor, but right next door are two large sandy bays
and a lot of quite wealthy looking seaside developments – a
casino, sailing club and smart hotels. In the old town
is one long street of big houses built when the city was
wealthy from the nitrate trade. This extended from an
Opera House where Caruso sang to the sea. The whole
street is listed and the buildings, built of timber shipped
from Oregon in the 19th century, are being restored. It
has all been pedestrianised with timber side walks, Victorian
era lamp posts and street furniture installed and a new horse
tram route is being constructed. Apart from these
features it was quite a dull place and so yesterday I boarded
another bus and spent four hours twisting down the
spectacular coast with cliffs and mountains on one side and
the Pacific on the other but nothing growing and no
settlement. The road then turned inland past the Santa
Elena Nitrate plant and an enormous copper mine to Calama
where I changed bus and travelled the last hour to San Pedro,
through the desert, as the sun set and the mountains glowed
in oranges, reds and gold.As the bus pulled in I saw one of the Germans who had been on
the National Parks tour and chatted to him. I found
myself a pleasant hotel and then went out for a good dinner
in a restaurant with live musicians where I bumped into a
retired Irish teacher from Maidstone who I had met in Arica.After the problems of the Andes, San Pedro proved a welcome
change. I took it easy on the first day, just going to
the wonderful museum. I chose the same time as a SAGA group.
What has happened to adventure travel? One member
of the group was so overweight she wasn’t able to
manage the whole museum tour and commented that the thin gold
used for face masks looked as though it had been made to
cover chocolate.The next day I was feeling more adjusted to the altitude and
walked out to a pre-Inca fort 3km from town. I arrived
shortly after the SAGA party. The fort is built on a
steep hillside where the river leaves a gorge and forms the
oasis. The stonework was interesting, similar if cruder
than Inca work. There was a maze of rooms, passages and
who knows what leading up to an excellent viewpoint.
The SAGA group didn't get there. The area has
an interesting history. The Incas were only dominant
for 60 years. The local people just submitted to them
so were not defeated. However when news came that the Spanish
had defeated the Incas the community leaders decided they
weren't going to be dictated to about changing their
names to match a new not understood religion. They
therefore rebelled and retreated to their 11th Century fort.
The Spanish, with horses and assisted by some local
antagonistic neighbours defeated them in short time and
executed the leaders. San Pedro de Atacama then became the
sleepy backwater it remained until recently.Next day, feeling full of confidence, I joined a tour to the
Salar de Atacame to see the birds. The Salar looked
like thawing snow, a grubby white and crunchy underfoot, with
surface water in places. In the distance the distinct
shape of the flamingos could be seen although even with
strong binoculars you couldn't tell what species of the
three found there were in sight. When they flew they
looked even pinker and had an unusual Concorde profile with
the wings far back along their bodies. In the distance
Volcano Lascar steamed. It erupts every four years, the
last time being 2000! It seems it throws out ash, not
lava, and the winds always take the ash into Argentina.
So that was alright.The next stop was the isolated village of Socaire which had a
very small stone church and tower. The church had
become unsafe and so the community built a replica on a new
town square but were now repairing the original. Around
were terraces used for growing vegetables but slowly going
out of use. Local men work in the Lithium extraction
plant at the Salire and so the local economy is becoming cash
based.From the village we ascended to the deep blue Lakes of
Miscanti and Miñques at above12,000 feet. We
walked along a ridge from one to the other with stunning
views and then back close to the shore. It was an
important site for the flamingos to breed.
They’re poor parents producing one chick which
they will abandon if disturbed. It was the breeding
season so we had to keep back from the lake shore. I
was pleased to manage the walking without breathlessness or
losing lunch!The final stop was the village of Tocanao which is at the end
of a gorge with a stream flowing through it. The stream
is used for irrigating figs, quince, grapes and other fruit.
The contrast between the arid highlands and the deep
green of the valley was outstanding. It reminded me of
Dovedale with surreal colour enhancement. Walking along the
valley was a real pleasure after the heat and exertions of
the rest of the day.San Pedro de Atacama has an odd mix of visitors. There
is a 'hippy' Chilean element, European gap year
students, young European Professionals and elderly Islington
or Baden Baden types having an alternative retirement
holiday. The restaurants are a little more expensive
than usual in Chile but have some adventurous combinations on
the menu and the wine is delicious.Well, I moved on to Antofagasta. Antofagasta is lack
lustre. It's just a busy city and a bit down at
heel. I decided to spend half a day looking at an
industrial museum a little out of town. At the bus
station this morning there were several ticket windows with
bored staff sitting behind them and closed signs firmly in
place. I went to the enquiry desk where three men were
assisting one customer. After a while one broke away to
see me. Can I have a ticket to Bacquedano I
asked. I was told to get on the bus already in the
terminal quickly and buy a ticket from the conductor.
After half an hour the bus left. (Why the hurry?)
“Bacquedano” I said to the conductor.
“Calama?” he replied. “No,
Baquedano.” I said. “Maria Elena?” he said.
“No. Baquedano,” I said firmly and pointed to it
in heavy print in my guide book. “Ah, Baquedano”
he said, “$1 000”. I paid.The museum was hopeless, uncared for, vandalised and
derelict. I nosed around, did a sketch and went top the
village for lunch. I had a tasty empenada and a cola
for about a pound and then asked where was the best place to
get a bus back to Antofagasta. The cafe owner said they
were every half hour and you could flag them down infront of
the cafe. He would bring me a chair so I could sit in
the shade. As he was telling me this a bus went past.
I sat in the shade for an hour before the next bus
came. I waved. The driver and conductor waved back and
drove past in a half empty bus. I decided to walk up to
the police check point at the entry to town were all buses
and trucks have to stop. After half an hour of standing
in the early afternoon heat a bus came and I got on. He
then stopped and picked someone else up outside the cafe
where I had been sitting half an hour earlier.Back in town I felt I deserved a coffee and lemon pie.
After quite a while the waiter returned with the coffee
but said there was no lemon pie. I’m going to
treat myself to a nice sea food dinner and white wine.
Wish me luck.Next Steve goes to Easter Island.