life
FEATURE
From the sublime to
the repellent
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang travels from the
wealth of Dubai to the poverty of India
THERE were many times on their trip from
the Isle of Wight to Australia in their replica
of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang that Nick and
Caroline Pointing found their carefully-drawn
plans were as good as yesterday’s
newspapers. They were at the mercy
of other people’s timetables, and other
people’s demands. Now, having decided the
explosive political situation in Pakistan was
too dangerous to contemplate, they were
stuck in Banda Abbas in Iran, waiting for a
container to ship the car to India.
“But we found there wasn’t a direct route,
and we’d have to go via Dubai,” said Nick.
Carolyn’s eyes light up at the memory. “I
thought ‘thank you so much! “ said Carolyn.
The contrast between the austerity of Iran
where they played road runner with boys
on motorbikes, to the huge shopping malls,
indoor ski centre and general affluence of
Dubai was, she said, “fantastic. And we met
so many Brits out there who loved the idea
of us travelling in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.”
Getting into Dubai hadn’t been a problem.
However, after a couple of weeks of
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Article by Roz Whistance
experiencing how the other half live it was
time to move on. This was not so easy.
What should have been a formality – getting
a certificate from the police to declare there
were no outstanding fines – turned out to
be problematic.
“We gave the commissioner of police one
of our Chitty picture cards as a friendly
gesture,” recalls Nick. “And he looked at it
and said: ‘You can’t drive this on the roads
with these wings!’” We tried to explain that
the wings weren’t attached, they’d just
been put on for the picture, but he wasn’t
listening. We daren’t tell him we’d been on
his roads for two weeks and the car was at
that moment parked in his police car park!”
Getting authorisation to ship the car
required all of the couple’s well-honed
negotiating skills, but eventually they were
free to go, destination India.
They felt they deserved time out to chill,
so they followed the tried and trusted
backpacker route to Goa. “We rented a little
hut on the beach, up on stilts. It was ok –
dubious, but ok. You’d get up in the night
and rats were running across the floor. Nick
got dreadful Deli Belly. And while we were
there one of the locals died, and his body
was dragged down on to the beach to be
burned. There you were, sitting there with
your ice cream, and just feet away you were
watching this body burn.”
If Goa wasn’t Carolyn’s ideal destination,
India was far worse. Of course, while most
people who travel to India do the sights,
Nick and Carolyn were seeing it at its most
raw. “The stench, the filth and the poverty
were just awful,” says Carolyn.
Driving up to Mumbai brought them
through good patches of road which
suddenly ended, pitching Chitty almost into
rubble. “We saw some grim sights – lots of
lorries turned over, there’s so much drink
driving. A lot of men are alcoholics, they are
cruel to their wives, and send the kids out
begging for money,” says Carolyn. “The kids
give the money to their mother for food,
the father beats the mother for it. You see
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