On the way to Australia, I let Lena to go ashore at each port of call, while I stayed aboard looking after children. I did not mind because I have been this way before on my own, and it was her turn to see the world.

However, at Aden, there was advice from the Ship Company warning passengers against going ashore because of the risk of terrorism. Lena, of course did not go but, for a change, I decided to go.

I went to a pub In Tawahi, full of Arabs and only one young European. He was rather tipsy, fraternizing, and glad to see me, another European. He had a polaroid camera, generously taking pictures of everybody who wanted, spoiling many shots, and dishing out free copies on the spot. He told me he was an American working for an Oil Company. I joined the crowd, trying on one of their Arabic skull-caps, offered to buy it from the owner but he wouldn't sell it.

In hindsight, I believe the American must have been a CIA agent, pretending to be drunk, and collecting pictures of suspects. My presence made his task less conspicuous.

The American, myself and a Yemeni in a pub in Aden - September 1966.
Notice on the table in front of the American his Polaroid camera film.

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