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TRABANT TREK
IN LATE 2007, JOHN LOVEJOY AND A GROUP OF FRIENDS EMBARKED ON A SIX-MONThJOURNEY-OF-A-LIFETIME FROM EUROPE TO CAMBODIA TO RAISE FUNDS FOR CAMBODIAN STREET CHILDREN… IN THREE PLASTIC CARS
“ARE YOU CRAZY?” THE QUESTION CAME IN A VARIETY OF accents and languages that ranged from Hungarian to Thai, but the tone of disbelief was always the same. From the inception of Trabant Trek until its completion months later, these were the first three words out of anyone’s mouth. Granted, an intrepid journey from Germany to Cambodia in three underpowered plastic cars (named Ziggy, Fez and Dante) does warrant such a reaction.
Maggie Eno, the founder of M’Lop Tapang (which translates as “in the shade of the umbrella tree”) never imagined she would be the inspiration behind such a mad endeavour. But the petite Englishwoman who set aside her luggage and travel plans to better the future of Cambodian street children was just that.
Two months after meeting her, I sent out an email to friends.
In eight months, an international team of eight – passports bulging with hard-to-acquire visas – got behind the wheel of three Trabants, the infamous plastic East German auto, to embark on a bizarre 26,000km expedition, using our lunchbox cars’ absurd nature to raise funds and awareness for M’Lop Tapang and their partner organisation in Phnom Penh, MiThSamlanh (or Friends).
The smooThribbon of asphalt from Europe to the Caucasus was anything but troublesome. Local press coverage in every country, VIP treatment in Izmit as guests of the mayor and courtesy police escorts gave the team a false sense of security. That was until we ran out of tarmac.
“Where are the maps?” I yelled at John Drury over the engine noise. He looked at me worriedly. “Maps? I thought Tony had them.”
We had just crossed the border into Georgia and had no idea where we were going. I quickly got Tony on the radio.
“Tony, you don’t have the maps, do you?” “No, Drury has them,” came the static-filled response. A shrug from Drury summed it up. The maps, thoughtfully assembled months before, had been left on his bookshelf in Washington DC.
“Ummm… There is a Georgian farmer drawing a map in the sand with a stick,” Carlos Gey’s voice resonated through the radio. “I’m going to take a picture; it might help.” We had determined the best way to navigate the remaining 20,000km from Georgia was to simply ask locals the best way to Cambodia. This was supplemented by the rather limited maps in our guidebooks and two broken compasses.
“They’re made of paper, not plastic,” came Drury’s shout after hitting a cow and splitting the hood. “I don’t know… the tyre just rolled off that way,” was Megan Calvert’s response as Tony, our mechanic, assessed the breakdown. Central Asia was unkind to boThTrabants and team. Marlena Witczak flew home from Uzbekistan due to time constraints, as did Megan, under financial pressure, from Kyrgyzstan. The mountains of Tajikistan were especially unforgiving on the cars, with a breakdown every 30km for six straight days. The bureaucracy of overstaying our visas due to the mechanical delays made matters worse. We were two months behind schedule, forcing a drive through Siberia and Mongolia in early winter.
“Lovejoy has ice in his beard! It must be at least -20C,” declared Zsofi Somlai. We were in the inhospitable Gobi Desert and it was Thanksgiving 2007. Normally a holiday of feasting, we were sitting around a fire fuelled by camel dung, eating our last packet of dry noodles – with out water. The frigid wind carried Tony’s voice back to me as I tried to convince the Chinese police o[fb03] cers we would be off the side of the highway and back on the road soon. “I think it’s the same thing that happened to Fez.” The little blue Trabi was out of commission with a seized engine and was being shipped to Beijing. Now the same thing was happening with Dante.
Two hours later, we were still there working on the problem, rotating sitting in the cars to revive the feeling in our extremities.
“Let’s just cut the seatbelts,” I suggested. In moments, two seatbelts had been cut out of Dante and a towrope fashioned between it and Ziggy.
The rest of the team hitchhiked into Beijing while I drove Ziggy, pulling Tony in Dante the final 70km into the capital. Ziggy failed to start the next day.
Our government-issued guide, Edmund, organised the shipping of all three Trabis from Beijing to the Laos border. A few days caged up in wooden boxes atop a truck took them the lengThof China. Zsofi had flown out the day before to return home and I was flying to Bangkok to organise the logistics of sending over two new engines from Budapest. The rest of the team prepared to head souThto Laos by public transportation. It seemed as if it was all falling apart. Xi’an, home of the famously exhumed army of Terracotta soldiers, was one of the many highlights in China I would miss. I did receive an email from Drury: “We’re now in Xi’an – the city is amazing. It reminds me of Central Asia with its mosques. We’ll see you in five days.” I was on the move from Bangkok to Vientiane where I would pick up the 40kg worth of parts to carry through Luang Prabang to Boten on the China/Laos border. By some miracle the stars aligned – the caged cars and the remaining four team members managed to show up at the border on the same day that I arrived carrying the parts.
“I cannot believe we are finally in South-East Asia,” screamed Drury in delight as the visa was stamped into his passport.
Tony shook his head, “We’re still three countries away and have three non-functioning cars.” We toiled for five days, straight through Christmas, to fix two of the cars. with tears in our eyes, we abandoned Dante, but not before stripping it of all its parts. Then, once again, our diminutive size-13 tyres began to roll.
Laos was the most picturesque of any of the 18 countries we had driven through. The roads were full of switchbacks staggering up the mountains. On either side, lush jade rainforest threatened to reclaim the road. It was a refreshing change after months of dull-brown, bitterly cold Central Asian deserts. Our multi-coloured cars were an instant hit in every village we passed through. Children would clamour around the cars straining to get a glimpse through the windows; adults smiled, talking amongst themselves, no doubt trying to figure out what we were doing there.
Luang Prabang lived up to its UNESCO World Heritage status. The well-maintained colonial buildings and breathtaking, centuries-old temples were a dramatic, juxtaposing backdrop for our now ragged communist cars.
We limped into Bangkok. By now Fez could only be stopped using the handbrake. Bangkok hadn’t been an intended stop, but the prospect of a CNN interview and the awareness it could bring to the charities was too great to pass up. Every tuk-tuk and moto driver would lean over saying, “Good car!” and give us the thumbs up. It was a touching local reception.
“I can’t believe this,” I muttered to the team after talking to the Cambodian customs o[fb03] cial. They weren’t going to let us in.
I went back in for a second round armed with one of our flyers. It had a route map on it, along with a photo of two Cambodian children. This had worked with police and customs o[fb03] cials before, oft en acting as a sort of get-out-of-jail-free card. This time was no exception. He warned us that it was illegal, but that he would turn a blind eye.
Arriving at MiThSamlanh the next day was overwhelming. All 500 children from the centre stood with signs awaiting us. I drove into the reception with tears welling up in my eyes; turning to Tony to ask what he thought, I saw that he was also blinking back tears.
The money we were raising was going towards saving their US$3 million centre. after a tour, we ate at the famous Friends Restaurant.
“That was the most amazing day of my life,” Drury said. It was by far the greatest sense of achievement I‘d ever had, and seeing the kids’ faces made it all worth while. Now there was only one more stop.
Sihanoukville had changed significantly since I was last there. Most startling was the massive new yellow M’Lop Tapang centre. Maggie received me with a bear hug saying, “Nearly six months now; I thought you’d never get here.” Following an ingenious circus show staged by all the kids, our team got up to dance with them on stage.
It had taken us 173 days to drive 25,882km with 323 breakdowns. We had raised over US$20,000 and much more in awareness, but it was with heavy hearts that we bade goodbye to our two remaining trusty plastic steeds.
THE TRABANT
The Trabant – Latin for “companion” – was East Germany’s answer the to VW Beetle. It was made from recycled cotton waste – known as Duroplast – and powered by a pollution-belching 600cc two-stroke motorcycle engine with a top speed of about 90km per hour.
Defying common sense, the lacklustre car was produced with out major changes from 1963 to 1990. Now banned from most of Western Europe due to emissions standards, the unique car has a cult following but is becoming increasingly hard to find.
Several Central European countries still have Trabants roaming the streets. Trabant Trek procured theirs in Hungary for a cost of less than US$500 a car. If you’re interested in finding out more about these relics, go to www.trabantklub.hu.
VOLUNTEERING IN SOUTH-EAST ASIA
While Trabant Trek raised funds for street children, there are numerous other needs in the region, whether it’s English teaching, conservation work, sustainable travel or backbreaking volunteer labour like digging wells.
For people with limited time (one to four weeks), Open Mind has a variety of volunteer options ranging from healThprojects to working in an orphanage. The median cost is US$950 for four weeks, including accommodation and food. Visit www.openminddprojects.com for more information.
If you have time to get involved, Trabant Trek’s charities accept volunteers for a minimum of two months. To donate or volunteer, visit www.mloptapang.org and www.friends-international.org.
When volunteering for any organisation working with children, ensure that ChildSafe standards are met, e.g. not allowing unaccompanied visitors to have direct access to children, and clarify that the organistion’s ultimate aim is to reintegrate children back into society (family, school, community). For other ways to help street children during your travels, visit www.childsafe-international.org.
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