The Mongolian Handyman. Ok, fair enough, a person should be well rounded with as many attributes as possible. Some people though will help with anything. If you are after a fantastic Mongolian Meal, ask Kane. If your washing machine is broken, ask Kane. If your roof needs re-tiling ask Kane. If you want your arse wiped for you….you’re gonna have to do that yourself still, unless of course you happen to have a Goat living up there!
The Fijian Entertainment Organiser. As long as the only help you require involves a fourth player for Volleyball, a push to get your hammock swinging again or just some general abuse on the beach, then Alex is your man. Our kinda guy!
The Girlfriends. They took Dave and James off our hands for a good few weeks, surely worth a mention in the New Years Honours list!
The Friend of Dave’s Family. A couple of nights accommodation in New Plymouth, a great feed and unlimited access to the washing machine. Mucho thanks.
The American Mechanic. Dared to take a look under our Mafia-run car (maybe) and didn’t even charge. “Don’t worry boys, the wheel arch bumping is sorted and the warning light shouldn’t be nothing to worry about. Good job you don’t have far to go though, eh?”
Those related to the Wookie. Places to stay as far apart as Shanghai (sister) to Windsor, Ontario (uncle) and meals out from the parents to boot.
The Chinese English speaker. Wandering aimlessly around the back streets of Beijing, we encounter this particularly helpful individual. Louis helped us sort accommodation on our first day in China, showed us around the Beijing bar-scene and even offered to share a hotel room with him where we could all get some “services” hmmmm…..maybe another time buddy!
The Red Cab Inn owner. An all round legend. Sorted out Taxis, Currumm games, lighting and the only person in 10 months to hit us with the phrase “Gentlemen, could I offer you a round of drinks on the house?”
The LifeSavers. Out of petrol in the middle of the Australian outback not long after the Peter Falconia incident (where a guy picking up a hitchhiker ended up dead, not nice stuff), we were not really fancying our chances of a swift pick up. It’s not long after grinding to a standstill that a car rattles past without stopping, no surprise. It is, however, when the car comes back again and offers one of us a lift. I get in with the big empty bottle and hitchhike the last forty kilometres to the petrol station. Phew.
The Support and Finance Departments. Skint, in the last few weeks and really not wanting to spend any more nights in the car than absolutely necessary, “Any chance of a bit of a loan?” Absence has obviously made the heart grow fonder!!!