Category Asia by Land

ATC in Cappadocia

We arrived in Cappadocia extremely excited and giddy, having seen the fairy towers out the bus window. We checked into the Traveler’s Cave Hostel, on the fringe of town, which landed us a three person cave room carved directly out of one of the spires. Though our bags were heavy we were light of foot as we headed into town to gape at the larger fairy towers.

A fairy tower, contrary to what I thought (and hoped) is actually ash from a volcano explosion a long, long time ago. Ash, when it makes contact with air, hardens. So, when people put Obsidian tools to the piles of ash and carved caves, they hardened and were a safe dwelling from the elements. Wind and water eroded the exterior into spires, which look super cool and are fun to climb on.

It was late by the time we got into town, so we stopped at Fat Boys for drinks and discovered a Risk board game set, which we proceeded to set up. Until late, we stayed at the pub, had dinner, and attempted to dominate the globe.
The next morning we got up early, having booked an all-day tour of the surrounding area to maximize on what we could see in our minimal time in Cappadocia. The tour group, which was composed of a plethora of young adults from India, Italy and Japan, left at 9:30am with another minibus full of tourists, and an over eager guide named Manchuria. Our first stop was to see the Red Valley structures, which people of antiquity carved into homes for themselves. We snapped photos like true tourists and were mobbed by people selling dolls and scarves.

Our second stop was to the Underground City, which was an 8 story deep ant-hive like network of tunnels and rooms which could hold up to 10,000 people in times of turmoil. People ran down into the caves to hide from enemies, and had such soft limestone walls that they carved out churches, livestock holds, and sleeping quarters—a full city underground. The tunnels were, at times, so small that Matt and Mike had trouble fitting, though I felt that finally something was just my size!

We headed in our mini convoy to a beautiful gorge, where we did a 3k hike through cave ruins along a riverbed, ending at a restaurant where we all dined. From here we set off, stomachs full, to a small town of fairy spires, which was the highlight for our merry group. We had been joined by two other Americans named Sam and Max, who had traveled from Africa and the Middle East to be in Cappadocia. Now we were 5 cube abandoners, and we all fidgeted as the tour guide explained to us not to go into the far left chamber of the highest tower.

Fairy Tower

When the tour guide finished we all went to the far left chamber in the highest tower. Never tell an American not to do something, is the lesson here. We found a crumbled stairway leading straight up into the royal chamber. We climbed up until the tunnel became dark, and then retreated as the tour guides screams started to echo off the walls. We felt like kings, or archeologists, discovering something unseen. Many of us were cut and bleeding from the rough climb, but our smiles were ear to ear as the guide winked at us. I think she told the group not to go to protect the weaker climbers, full well knowing our mini group would attempt the climb.

We next headed to the pigeon valley, a panoramic view of awesomeness. We were all cold by that time, and hungry, but the view was something not to be distracted from and we all stared into the valley reflecting on the day. A tour of a jewelry factory followed, which we hurried through before heading back to town. We quickly had a few drinks and checked out of our cave and bought bus tickets to the Mediterranean Sea Coast, which would be an overnight bus landing us in Olympos by 8am the next morning.

Cappadocia, Goreme

On the evening of the 26th I found a shuttle to the airport and waited for Matt, my friend since 1st grade, to arrive in Ankara. Lauren waited in the hotel room and worked on her several writing contracts. Without thinking, I had brought a pocketknife to the airport with me. Even worse, they had a security check at the entrance – something that is refrained from in the states if you are simply waiting for someone to arrive and not flying. I slowly, and somewhat hesitantly, walked toward the security officers with my unopened pocketknife in one hand. I did this before I went through security and we stumbled through conversation. First, they tried to kick me out, but after a while, one of the guards came over and inspected the knife. I opened it for him and he jokingly put the knife to his neck and pretended to act as if someone – possible me – was cutting his throat. I dramatically shook my head and explained I just wanted to wait for a friend and would not go further into the airport.

I thought for sure it was going to get confiscated so that is why I approached them so it didn’t appear I was trying to sneak it in. To my surprise that had me walk through the metal detector and one of the security ladies came up and slipped the knife into my pocket and told me to keep it in my pocket and not let anyone see it. Although I was surprised, I walked in and nervously waited Matt’s arrival. I was worried he would miss his connection flight because of customs in Istanbul. After waiting for about an additional 40 minutes after his flight landed, I was starting to think he would be on the next flight. Suddenly, I heard a faint yell from behind me. Matt was outside the airport and they wouldn’t let him back in. He was quickly shouting my name as the sliding doors opened and closes for exiting passengers.

It didn’t take us long to find the cheap shuttle, local bus 442 back to Ulus – where we were staying. We were so busy talking and catching-up, also in disbelief the strange location we were meeting each other, that we missed out stop entirely. Luckily we quickly got on the subway back to where Lauren and I had booked a room earlier. After dropping Matt’s stuff off in the room, we went down the street and bought a few local beers – Efes – and then walked toward the Citadel in Ankara, which is the oldest part of the city and the inner walls and foundations were first set by the Galatians. We walked up the steep alleys and streets until we reached near the summit. There was a cul-de-sac with a great panoramic view of the city at the top. We walked over to the wall and kicked our feet over the side of the wall. I think it was a fitting intro to Ankara and it was great to share the experience with Matt and Lauren.

The next morning, after a small breakfast, we went to the impressive Museum of Anatolian Civilizations. It was full of pre-historic, early ages of human settlement, Greek, Hittite, and Roman history etc. The center of the museum housed some of the most interesting collections, several of which have been purchased by the Turkish government from private collections. These comprised of wall frescoes and carvings most of which were from around 9 BCE. After enjoying the museum, we quickly rushed back to the hotel, I repacked my stuff into my old bag – which Matt brought along. (My Chinese knockoff was not going to last another week.)  As we had already purchases tickets to Cappadocia, we barely made out 1:00 bus to Goreme, Turkey.

Ulus, Ankara

Having enjoyed our time in Safranbolu, but eager to get out of a town that was little more than a giant tourist trap complete with cliché souvenirs and overly friendly people trying to rip off any traveler who isn’t used to be wary every waking moment. It was the only town, thus far in Turkey, where people have been rude, tried to swindle us, and have generally left a bad taste in our mouth.

The bus to Ankara was small, and the people on board not particularly friendly. We settled in and put some comedy on the i-pod to liven up our moods. A little bit of laughter goes a long way, and soon we were revived and excited about Ankara.

We arrived in the city and were immediately shocked that it is the capital of Turkey. The city is dirty, expensive, and according to the Lonely Planet, dangerous. The city is divided into three main parts, the cheap part, the party part, and the diplomatic quarter. We went, obviously, to the cheap part, which is also where the Lonely Planet advises against going. The area was safe enough, and we checked into a hotel that smelled of cat urine and cigarette butts. This place makes Hotel California look good. The owner was an old man who had a gentle smile and was affectionately polite. We deposited our belongings in the room (30 TL because it has a bathroom you share with the whole hotel, and no showers at all) and half expected never to see our bags again. We walked around the nearby park, which has been restored and is now clean, nice and heavily guarded. We bought donar kebabs at a booth from a friendly-looking man who told us his brother is in Philadelphia. We had not eaten a real meal in a while, and he gave us a discount when we went to pay—a rare treat when someone loves American travelers, so we relished in it as we walked back through the park.

We spent the next several days in Ankara waiting for our new traveling companion, Matt, to arrive. We saw the Ataturk Mausoleaum and monuments, the Ankara Museum and Citadel and spent hours walking the back alleys and major arteries of Ulus, in Northern Ankara. It is a rather plain and bland city but an expensive one, and we were eager to move on to Cappadocia.

Old Ottoman Museum

We arrived in Safranbolu, named after the plant Safron, around 8pm and instantly realized our bus driver, who was to deposit us in the downtown area, had overshot the landing point by 2k. He pushed us out the door and tossed us our bags as we coughed on exhaust. We shouldered our bags and instantly someone came up and pointed us in the right direction. 2k later, with 50lbs on our backs, we arrived in the right part of town—old town.

Safranbolu’s Old Town area is more than old, its ancient. Some wooden structures still standing are over 300 years old, roof to floor. The Ottoman style homes cover the entire floor of a valley, which is enclosed on all sides by sharp, rocky hills. The only way to enter Old Town is to hike up a hill and over it, which we did in the dark with our bags.

We arrived at our hostel by 9pm and were told it was full. The annual film festival was being held in town this week, so we were out of luck. They did happen to know of a friend who had a room available, so the proprietor picked up Mike’s bag (and nearly fainted at the effort) and marched us up one of the hills to a smaller hostel called the Efe Backpacker’s Pension. We deposited our bags in the dorm room and walked back into town to eat dinner at a small café we had spied on the way up the hill.

Back in the room we met Zoe, a British traveler on her way to South East Asia via Turkey and Iran. She regaled us with stories of meeting the city’s mayor that evening while strolling through town, and of having tea with the film festival’s chairwoman. Zoe was a lively and fun girl to be around, so we stayed up chatting until rather late. We had a few beers we bought at a store down the street, but the owner’s wife came running out onto the patio and told us not to drink there because it was against their religion. The beer we were drinking is called Efes, the Turkish local beer that the hostel was named after. In a daze of irony, we wondered why the named the hostel Efe, why they had a hostel at all if they were so devout, and why they had asked us to stop drinking when we were on the patio. Moreover, why do they sell beer in town if it isn’t to be consumed anywhere? I’m not one to be insensitive to anyone else’s beliefs, but on this count I find the no drinking in a hostel named after a beer just ridiculous. The situation was made all the more ironic because we were in a co-ed dorm, which should really be considered risky in Islam, when you think about it.

In the morning we walked around admiring the old Ottoman structures and snapping pictures of the town’s millions of cats. The town is small, and it took less than an hour to see the entire thing. We did something we never do, and bought a few cheesy souvenirs and a hand-woven shirt. In the evening we had a nice dinner with Zoe of Turkish meatballs and egg pizza. We went to the town’s only bar for a beer afterwards, and enjoyed the live music and atmosphere. On the way out the owner tried to charge us 5 TL for the nuts that had been on the table, but Mike and Zoe did their verbal punching and we ended up walking out paying what was right. I’m convinced that people in tourist towns like Safranbolu are not as good as elsewhere, since they are always trying to turn a quick buck on unwitting, young tourists.

At any rate, we slept in the dorm room again and in the morning notified the owner that we would be moving out. They panicked and pushed us from the breakfast table back into our room to pack up our bags. In a haze, they loaded our bags on our backs and gestured to the door. Apparently, once you pay, you might as well get the hell out because you are no good to them anymore. Three strikes for Safranbolu! Since we were thus evicted, we went to the bus station to get out of dodge, but found that there were no buses until 5pm. It was 11am. We took a minibus to the next town and from there got on a bus to Ankara by 1pm. Take that, crappy bus system of Safranbolu! We’re out of here!

Sinop Harbor

Trabzon and the magnificent hanging monastery of Sumela disappeared in the distance behind us as we boarded yet another bus heading West. Our goal was to go from Trabzon’s main bus station to the Samson station, half way to Sinop along the Black Sea Coast. For better or worse we arrived in Samson behind schedule at midnight and discovered that there was no minibus into town. The bus station was in the outskirts of Samson, and we were not in the mood to spend money and time getting to a hotel just to wake up early to catch another bus. We hastily pitched our tent near the bus station in a field next to a row of wind-break trees. It was dark, creepy and ominous not knowing what else was in the field, but since the frogs and birds were chirping it became a soothing kind of nature as we quickly jumped in the tent and fell asleep.

We awoke to the sound of barking dogs, the only concern in my mind. People you can reason with and explain that we were just camping on their property for the night—you can’t reason with a drooling dog. A farmer emerged through the field and called the dogs off of us just as I was reaching in my bag for a blunt object to protect us with. The farmer simply walked back through the corn stocks and we headed towards the bus station. It was 7am, and our bus, we discovered, left at 8:30.

After a light breakfast we were on another bus heading West….a déjà vu kind of feeling. Sinop was our destination and we had heard great things about the small coastal town. I caught up on my sleep and we arrived by early afternoon and checked into a pension. The owners were two friendly old men who gave us a discount simply based on how pathetic we looked. We cleaned up, showered and changed out of our camping clothes and reemerged to startle the proprietors, who hardly recognized us in our new and clean state.

Sinop was bustling with activity, and we quickly followed the noise towards the harbor, where people of all colors were drinking tea, playing chess and backgammon and smoking. We grabbed a table at a harbor-side café and had a few beers while we watched the fishermen haul in their catch. With Ramadan over, people around us were snacking and we jumped on the bandwagon and headed off to find food of our own.

Mike succeeded in finding beers, which he bought to drink on the harbor. I found some juice and we sat on the dock dangling our feet over the side playing cribbage and watching the sunset.

Because it was such a restful place we were tempted to stay another day, but having made arrangements to meet a friend in Ankara, we had to push on. We checked out of our friendly Pension and waved goodbye to the two proprietors who had been so kind. We took a local bus to the long-distance bus station and boarded yet another bus, this one heading to Kastamonu, mid way between Sinop and Ankara. But we had other plans in mind, at Kastamonu we got on another bus to Safranbolu, and ancient Ottoman town that has survived intact to this day!

Trabzon Mosque

After a restful week in Yusufeli we felt more than up to the task of our 6 hour bus ride to Trabzon. This was no ordinary road, but a winding, rocky pathway on which giant buses passed each other going opposite directions like slugs creeping past one another. I quickly fell into my “sleep when you can!” routine and managed to feel marginally normal for the first twenty minutes. But when we hit the first of a series of winding curves it was back to barfing into a Doritos bag for me! Looked up at one point, mid-puke, and Mike was laughing hysterically as I gave the thumbs up and finished emptying my stomach. Apparently I had eaten something red (I don’t remember that?!).

We arrived relatively unscathed in Trabzon, which is one of the biggest Black Sea coastal cities in Turkey. We had decided not to take a direct bus to Ankara, but to tour the Black Sea Coast and soak in our last glimpses of this temperamental sea. Trabzon was a delightful city with glistening white Christmas lights hanging over pedestrian streets that were crowded with merry people shoving baklava into their mouths by the fistful. We checked into a hotel and received a discount based on how utterly hopeless we looked with our giant bags and sweat-covered faces. We wandered into the central park and had tea before finding a place to dine and exploring the city on foot. Mike’s primary interest was in acquiring a few beers, since Ramadan was now over. This proved more difficult than one would imagine, and Mike became ever more determined as the shops displayed endless amounts of sweets but no beer for poor Mike.
We strolled around feeling like it was a Christmas-like city, without snow and full of Muslims. The attitude was jovial and holiday-like, and everyone seemed happier than normal and full of holiday cheer. It was the last day of post-Ramadan feasting, which was perhaps part of the mood, but I think Trabzon is also just a friendly place.

Sumela Monastery. The next morning we booked a trip with a travel company (our first group tour!) to go to the Sumela hanging Monastery, about 45minutes away. Our minibus held mostly Turkish tourists and three other international travelers. It rained, and our minibus sent showers of water up the windshield with every puddle we hit. We were deposited at the top of the mountain to climb the last 1/4th of the mountain on foot. As usual, Mike forgot his umbrella so we huddled under mine as we climbed through the woods and up ancient stone steps to the monastery. The buildings have been restored, but were original built in Byzantine times by the Greeks who had hoped to acquire the area as a Greek state. The creation of the Turkish Republic saw the demise of Greek Orthodoxy and the abandonment of the monastery. The structure itself clings almost desperately to the side of a sheer rock face high above an evergreen forest, with a raging river and waterfalls galore below. We wandered from room to abandoned room and gaped at the paintings of Christ and the Virgin Mary on cave walls.

After an hour at the Monastery we wandered down the mountain in the rain as cars splashed past us on their way up. Midway down my shoes had more water inside than out, and my toes began to turn to raisins inside my mushy socks. A friendly Turkish family picked us up, thanks to our pathetic looks once again, and drove us down the road (which was now more a river than a road) to the base of the mountain where a small restaurant sat nestled in the woods. Here our driver had instructed us to gather at the appointed time. We ate a small meal so that we could sit inside where it was warm, and then boarded our minibus back to Trabzon where I sat with a German lady, an Australian man and a Polish traveler as we discussed what was worth seeing in Turkey and the highlights of the Caucus—the normal backpacker conversations one hears in every bus station, airport and hostel across the planet.

Mongol Rally Logo

Lauren and Mike landed a team in the Mongol Rally 2010! We’re in the process of picking a few team members, looking for sponsors, and planning our route. You can follow all of our progress via the blog, but we’ll also be creating a Mongol Rally page on our website soon with updates and more information.

The Mongol Rally is a charity event wherein each team (500 total) take a 1 liter car from Europe to Mongolia to donate the car to charity along with $1500 for Mercy Corps. We’re overwhelmed with glee that we get to participate in the event this year, having witnessed several teams from the 2009 rally while in Turkmenistan. It is a once-in-a-lifetime, crazy event and it’s for a good cause.

Our team, the Abandon the Cube team, is conjoined with the Not Cubists team from Yelm, Washington. We’re busy with the preliminary aspects of putting together two winning cars with one winning strategy to make it to Mongolia in our perfectly unsuitable, tiny little cars.

More information on the Mongol Rally  or for other volunteer experiences, see our “Events ” drop-down menu.

To sponsor us, or if you have ideas for sponsors please send us an email at lauren (at) abandonthecube.com or mike (at) abandonthecube.com

Water Pumping

Having arrived in Yusufeli without a map, we had to rely on shabby LP written directions to get us a place to sleep. We have not had good luck with these in the past, but luckily since we were so exhausted after the 4 minibuses that day, we found the place within a half hour. We walked through the very quiet town of Yusufeli to Green Piece Pension. Reading our guide, we were tipped that there were places to camp here, which really appealed to us because we were somewhat shocked at the inflated prices in Turkey, or at least in comparison to everywhere we had been. We walked across a creaky suspension bridge that made Lauren’s stomach churn and down a gravel road for less than 1 k. Nestled next to a rolling stream, several vegetable fields, and rocky hill tops in every direction, this was a great place to stay.

The friendly family immediately showed us the camping area and within a few minutes, our camp was all set up. The nice thing about Green Piece, was that we could use their facilities, which included a restaurant, wifi, warm showers, and bathrooms. Over the next several days, as we really took a liking to the place, it rained 5-6 times a day. I was joking with Lauren that it was a lot like Seattle. Coincidently, we also heard a comedian’s joke about Seattle on my iPod, “You know what they say in Seattle, if you don’t like the weather, just wait 5 minutes and then shoot yourself in the face.” – Probably a little dark for the blog, but the rain was actually really refreshing and the rain lulled us to sleep in the tent at night. We also got a lot of work done on the site. It was funny making a few Skype calls from our tent – as the fact that we had wifi in a tent was ridiculous, but I made a point to tell everyone where we were. Traveling is not what it used to be, huh?

One thing that did not take us too long to pick up was that there was a shortage of food!!! Yusufeli was a very religious Muslim town. We realized this the first night when the 5:00 am call to prayer blared on for several minutes and woke us up in the middle of the night. We also quickly learned that it was the festival or “torture” of Ramadan. Ramadan, a Muslim “holiday,” is a long period of fasting. This made people irritable, hungry, short-tempered, and ill-humored. It was also difficult for us to find food as all the food establishments were closed. It also made me feel guilty to eat in front of the family when they couldn’t eat from sun up to sun down. The lesson learned was, and we had heard it before: Don’t go to Muslim countries during Ramadan. Unfortunately, I don’t really keep track of things like as they usually don’t apply to me. They did in Turkey. We were able to cook a few meals in the kitchen as well. They told us we could use the kitchen, but I am not sure how happy they were about it. We also saw several whitewater rafting groups come there while we were there, a man from Holland who had been riding around on a motorcycle for a year and a half, as well as another Dutch couple with a camper who lived in St. Martin. Besides the great company we had while we were there, the slow atmosphere of the mountain city as well as the trekking around the village, made it a worthwhile place to plan and time the rest of our trip up to Ankara.

The Minibus

Having crossed several borders, with shady officials and legitimate ones, we have now crossed the easiest border on the planet between the Republic of Georgia and Turkey.

Georgia has no visa requirements, but welcomes everyone to their country. Turkey sells visas for $20 a pop at the border crossing, a simple sticker and a quick scanned copy of our passports was all that was needed. They did not check our bags, or fingerprint us, or ask if we had the swine flu, or rob us, or tell us their political views. It was as if we were going from one friendly place to another, which is exactly what we were doing.

We left the beach in Georgia in the morning and caught a simple, 1 GEL bus to the Sarpi border. From there we simply walked across the Georgian side with a wave and an exit stamp, and we were in Turkey! A friendly border guard pointed us to the visa purchasing office, and we bought the required stickers and got the required stamps without hassle.
Once outside the barbed-wire fence we sat around waiting for a bus. Without any Turkish language ability we were SOL for a while before someone came up and offered to take us to Hopa for 4 TL a person, which seemed reasonable. Once in Hopa we watched everyone else pay 2 TL a person and had to grin a bit. Less than twenty minutes in the country and we were swindled. Typical, but we’re not in Georgia anymore, are we! And there was something special about Georgia, perhaps the shared religion, that made the people honest and kind and unable to cheat.

From Hopa we found a nice family who helped us onto another bus to Artvin. Here is where the world proved itself to be a great leveling device. Because the other bus driver had charged us double (and we had agreed in advance) we did not have enough money for the bus to Artvin. The driver took the money we did have, which was 4 less than the correct amount, and drove us all the way to Artvin without complaint. Hence, we ended up getting there for 2 TL less than a local would have. Ironic.

Once in Artvin we had to wait an hour for my stomach to stop hurling from the motion sickness. Hopa to Artvin was a winding, mountainous road that followed a raging river. We hurtled through the mountains without a care to the deathly drop-offs next to the bus, and without worrying about oncoming traffic or rocks in the road, or cows. I’m surprised I didn’t vomit just from looking over the edge of the cliff as we whizzed past. While we waited, our driver got in his minivan and put it in reverse and then floored it! His minivan was aiming right at Mike and I as we sat on a bench catching our breath. Everyone yelled and I propped by feet up on the bench hoping the metal frame would stop the van before it crushed me. Luckily the screaming worked and the driver got out of his minivan and looked at Mike and I (and a local sharing the bench). We still had our feet up, but thanks to the nausea we were more focused on not vomiting than not being hit by crazed, lunatic drivers.

Finally, we boarded the bus to Yusufeli, which was to be our destination for the night. We got in the mini bus (meant to hold 12, but now holding 18) and settled in for a long drive. Midway the road was closed due to an avalanche, so we all got out to throw stones at the river below us. A passenger got in the driver’s seat and put the car in reverse while trying to impress two female passengers. He rammed the minibus directly into a parked truck, rocking both vehicles precariously close to the drop off. Our driver came running, full of curses and wild hand gestures, to the passenger and berated him in front of the ladies—the opposite of his aim. We watched the whole event from the river bank, wondering how we’d fish out our belongings from the river if the car had slid in. Finally, as night approached, we made it to Yusufeli, having left Georgia that morning and taken 4 buses in the course of the day and witnessing two car accidents.

Our New Travel Companion - Photo: Keyboards for There's Always Wednesday

Here at Abandon the Cube we’re always happy to hear other traveler’s adventure tales. We’ve met a lot of great people along the way, and admire (with tears of jealousy) some of the insane routes people have chosen. But now we’d like to announce that Abandon the Cube has a new traveler jumping in on the itinerary.

The story of how Matt is joining the ATC crew is a funny and inspiring one. Matt was at the casino over the weekend when he put a penny in a lucky machine and out popped a $1300 prize.  He got on the web, sent an email to Mike that said, “I’ve won at the penny slots, I’m getting my birth certificate, applying for a passport, and I’m coming to join you!”

Matt will be joining ATC in Ankara, Turkey, and traveling with the, what will become trio,  throughout the Medderiterranian region. We’re happy to have him on board and look forward to the adventure!

Batumi Beach

After Bojormi National Park, Gori, Tbilisi, Kazbegi, Baku, and the Caspian Sea ferry, we were ready for a break. However, we were unaware that we would get such a great one. As our minibus emerged from the foliage and hilltops, we caught our first glimpses of the Black Sea. It was right here that Jason and the Argonauts landed in search of the Golden Fleece. Being a huge fan of the film from childhood, it was an awesome experience coming to the realization that the story was based on actual legend and places and that we were standing on the very ground that the story unfolded upon. My first impression of the Black Sea was that I quickly understood where the name came from. Black clouds were rolling over the hills surrounding the sea and gave the water a opaque dark color. The beach was very rocky and, my imagination running wild, I thought of the rough whitecaps throwing wooden ships onto the rocky shores.

After a few more hours, the bus pulled to a stop near a small port city. The bus driver turned around, enamored that we were from ‘America,’ gave me a head nod and said, “Batumi.” He then gave me a thumbs up and said, “Chicago Bulls.” I immediately got a west coast United States feeling from Batumi. It seemed like a laid-back beach community. We wandered through town with our cumbersome bags, receiving stairs of wonderment and distress. Many women would stop and stare at Lauren and look at her in distress over the big bag she was carrying on her back. I couldn’t help but feel like they then glared at me as if I was some kind of horrible creature to make her walk around carrying such a weight. We found an acceptable place to stay, albeit slightly musty, but we just figured that added to the coastline experience.

We walked down to the beach and, although still very rocky, we found it full of locals. We enjoyed two days and three nights in Batumi and kicked our feet up in the laid-back atmosphere. Lauren read her books, drank a few beers, and snacked in the sun and under umbrellas, while I spent half my time floating out by the buoy and the other half, running into town or the other side of the beach to replenish water and other beverages. I found out, days later, that my parents were worried about us being in flooding that was going on in Turkey. Little did they know that we were laying out on a beach drinking vodka tonics. It was a very enjoyable drive out to Batumi and the atmosphere was unlike anywhere else we had been, and was very different to anything else in Georgia. Batumi makes for an interesting entrance or departure into the Republic of Georgia, but definitely a must see in Georgia, as we saw Georgians in a new relaxed light we had never seen them in before.

Reconstruction of Bagrati Cathedral - Kutaisi, Georgia

Kutaisi, Georgia offered us some much needed rest after city-hopping for the previous few days.  The minibus dropped us off at a random bus station, which was of course, not even on the Lonely Plant maps.  It would be so difficult traveling without that book, but it is a love-hate relationship as you read and look through it occasionally wondering why they wasted space and why they gave you worthless information when there was so much more to write about.  Lucky for us, the Caucasus have been so easy to travel around in.  After China and Central Asia, we were expecting mind numbing conversations as you walk from bus to bus asking to go to a certain city and then each person points in a different direction.  Azerbaijan and Georgia have been completely different.  Baku was simple to navigate and using public transportation was a cinch.  Georgia was a great breath of fresh air. Leaving Central Asia behind and entering into a new world of Judeo – Christian values, we found no endeavor to result in a headache.  People were friendly, curtious, helpful, and seemed to have ethics matching our own.  In the previous town of Gori, we talked with the owner of “The Man Bar” and he gave us our meal and beer on-the-house just for being American and talking to him and his friends.  This was the first time in all of my travels that being a foreigner actually resulted in a direct benefit within the culture.

Back in Kutaisi, we painlessly enlisted the help of a local taxi driver who drove way out of his way, after several roads were closed – up winding streets and hills to where we wanted to stay for the night.   We were greeted at the gate by a very friendly young girl who spoke fluent English. She took us through their beautiful compound home that was over 100 years old.   The two storey building didn’t look like much on the outside, but the interior was ornately decorated with a classic Russian feel. As we walked around the side of the home, which was probably once a sanitarium, we noticed grape vines hanging down around our heads.  The whole house was surrounded with a vineyard.  Around the back, a huge greenhouse took up most of their backyard. Inside were tomatoes, lime trees, and an assortment of other vegetables.  With the exception of meat, I would say that the family was practically self sufficient.

After meeting Emily, a young solo traveler from the U.K., we walked around the side streets and back alleys of hilltop Kutaisi.  Less than 1 km away, the Bagrati Cathedral – early 11th century – sits in ruin.   However, reconstruction was underway while we were there.  The cathedral was destroyed by the Turks in the early 17th century, it was still awe inspiring to stand underneath the now dome-less ceiling.   To the East of the cathedral are the ruins of a medieval palace, complete with wine cellars and a chapel, also gave great views of the city below.  The palace was destroyed by Russian artillery bombardment from the opposite bank of the river.  We returned and had dinner with Emily, and enjoying the comfort and company so much, stayed an additional 2 days.

Hiking

Kazbegi is a mountain town nestled smack dab between South Ossetia and Chechynia, in northern Georgia. All around this peaceful and beautiful valley wars rage off and on while the serenity and peacefulness of this particular town and the surrounding mountains has been maintained for generations on end. Indeed, in times of turmoil in Tbilisi, artifacts would be rushed to this region for safe keeping from any invading force or political what-have-you.

I was hesitant to go north due to State Department warnings and because I read the news regularly and know that the border areas are about as stable as a three legged dog. But, after meeting several Georgians, travelers and even government workers who vacationed in the area, we felt assured, and packed a small bag to take with on our journey north.

The bus careened up a road in such disrepair that it does not deserve to be called a pathway at all. Our bus’ tires screeched along pebbles mere inches from drop-offs that would have decimated any vehicle unlucky enough to fall over the edge. They would have a hell of a time searching (and identifying) body parts should the bus tumble out of control. Rather than harp on the uncontrollable, I shut my eyes and woke up occasionally to the sounds of honking, squealing tires, and eventually, of the parking break.

Mike and Friend

Kazbegi was the classic cowboy town, with one main street through town (littered with cows on their way to greener pastures) and lined with tiny shops, cafes, and a few hostels. We bypassed all of these and found a café on the outskirts of town where we ordered a few beers and the only item in English on the menu: Plate of Meat.

After eating, we climbed the mountain behind the town to the church, which is where religious artifacts are kept in times of trouble. With heavy packs, the walk was grueling, but we made it fun with chatter and joking until we suddenly emerged from the woods to see the clouds breaking and light pouring over the tiny church as if God was peeling back the clouds for a look.

Strangely enough, when I entered the church a man approached me with a wrap-around skirt that he insisted I put over my jeans. Apparently the Orthodox church likes women to have their head covered and a skirt around their legs. After traveling through several Muslim countries, I was shocked that this was the most conservative religious experience yet: I was in long pants, hiking boots, a sweater, a head-scarf and now a wrap-around skirt. I looked ridiculous. I’ll never understand traditions like this, unless you grow up with it, it just comes across as odd.

We set up camp near the base of the church, and Mike made a small fire so we could cook some ramen noodles and tea (our camping staples) before watching the sunset and climbing into our sleeping bags and falling quickly asleep.

Pretty Kitty

We only had a five day transit visa for Azerbaijan. It is a relatively small country and while we would have liked to stay longer than five days, the visa was 130$ for 30 days or $20 for five days, so we took the later and decided to see as much as we could in the time we could afford to buy.

We spent the morning walking around the city as we weaved our way to the train station to reserve tickets for the evening’s 10pm train to Tbilisi. When we arrived at the station we wondered from window to window asking about a train to Georgia’s capital. Every window-attendant just shrugged, mumbled in Russian, and pointed to another window. We literally made our way, one on each side, down the entire 24 window ticket buying area asking each person, all of whom was rude, and down-right mean. Finally, I started asking other travelers. Most were friendly enough, but said that they did not know how to buy a ticket either. Everyone looked frustrated, annoyed and disgusted with the ticket salespeople. Finally, as I was about to cry, two Azeri boys said they would help us. They stood there patiently with Mike and made sure he got a good ticket for a fair price and then even helped translate from Russian to English for us. Without those friendly boys we might still be wandering around the ticketing office from window to window like lost children.

We headed to the train station at 9:30 a bit depressed that we already had to leave. Our time with the American family in Baku was great, and as we waited for the train to leave we found we already missed the fun loving antics of their young child, who had kept us company over the past few days.

The train was supposed to take 15 hours, but as with everything in the Caucus we’d experience thus far, the time was much more. But, this turned out (as it usually does) to be a good thing. We met Famil on the train, the young man who had helped us purchase our tickets earlier that day. His bunk was only a few doors down from our sleeper train compartment, so he spent the evening drinking beers on the train with us and chatting. His English was phenomenal, and he told us how he spent time in Barcelona and Turkey, as well as in Georgia and his home country of Azerbaijan. He speaks several languages fluently and is learning Spanish. An older gentlemen calling himself Frank (for our benefit) was also in our compartment. He tried to communicate with us in Russian and charades, the latter of which was more effective. A friendly and talkative cabin-mate, this gentlemen was fun to travel with and kept us all entertained with his storied (some of which Famil translated for us).

Azerbaijan, being currently in the middle of an oil boom, is as expensive as Europe. We were confined to Baku because we only had a few days on our transit visa. We talked with other travelers about the best sights and heard about the James Bond Oil Fields, which were featured in the opening scenes of The World is Not Enough. We set off on a bus for 20cents to the city’s largest mosque, which was destroyed (not surprisingly) by the Russians and rebuilt recently atop the hill overlooking the oil fields. Several dozen nodding donkeys pumped oil out of the ground in the field along the Caspian while dozens others were nestled in people’s backyards or along the side of the road. The entire area was alive with up and down movements everywhere you looked. The site, however, sounds cooler than it actually is because you are not permitted to go anywhere near any of them, and can only look down on the chaos from atop a rather tall hill. We spent most of our time watching the dock workers at the Caspian Shipping Company as they loaded a research vassal and an oil rig builder.

We heard about the mud volcanoes outside of Baku several hours, but everyone said they were lame and to skip it because the cab drivers who wait at the bus stop to pick up tourists will take you out to the mud volcanoes and then charge an arm and a leg to get you back to the bus. Meanwhile, the volcanoes themselves are apparently very small and unimpressive. Having seen the boiling mud craters in Darvaza in Turkmenistan, we were fine to skip it.

The Maiden’s Tower in Old Town was amazing. The architecture and construction of the tower was unlike any other for its time, and historians still argue about the purpose of the odd structure. It is called the maiden’s tower not for any damsel in distress saga, but because the tower is impenetrable, with 5m thick walls. From the top there is a great view of the Caspian, but an even better view of Baku.

Old Town is well worth some time getting lost. We spent hours walking around the back alleys, admiring the stacks of moldy bread and playing with the endless supply of feral cats. The nearby fountain park area displays old European architecture that is steadily being rebuilt and recovered in sandstone facades of the new style. The entire area was under construction when we were there, with sandstone flying everywhere as experts carved new bricks.
The Boulevard along the Caspian is a beautiful, several kilometer long parkway that is soon to be the gem of the city. This was also under construction while we were there, but this did not prevent us from enjoying the views, or the shade of the trees in the hot summer sun.

By far the two most interesting things we saw in Baku were the Monument to the Martyrs and the Cemetery. The first was a large park with a headstone for each person slaughtered by the Armenians in the massacre of 1992. There was a monument to those who fell to the Russians in 1990 and even a small monument marking the graves of the British who died in Baku trying to keep the Turkish from invading during World War I. The cemetery contains the resting place of the president, as well as celebrities, scientists and other important people from Azerbaijan’s history. You can take a little tram ride up the side of the hill to reach these two spots for 20cents, and it’s well worth the trip.

We arrived in Baku at 1:00am and disembarked from the ferry with a sigh, it had been an amazing trip, and although it was over 30 hours from boarding to alighting, we were sad that the ‘cruise’ was over. By the time we got through the ridiculously lengthily customs and border check at the sea port it was around 3:00am. Being thrifty, “a penny saved is a penny earned,” we decided that spending $20 each on a hostel that night was a waste of money since we’d only get to sleep a few hours. After a short debate we decided it would be humorous to stay awake all night and watch the sunrise. We heard a rumor that there was a McDonald’s in town, and we were determined to be there for the Mc-Awesome-Breakfast. We strolled along Baku’s main boulevard along the Caspian shore-front, a magnificently redesigned and renovated walkway that parallels main European fairways.

At one point along the walkway Mike rested himself upon a bench and I walked down to see if there was anywhere in the cover of trees to pitch our tent for a few hours of rest. As I was walking alone looking for a spot, a man approached me and was so persistently asking for something and winking so devilishly that when he came close and attempted to reach out at me I was forced to yell for him to desist and put my hand on the knife I always carry. He continued to pester me and I had to pull the knife out and glare grumpily. All the while I was walking (trying to appear calm) towards Mike, and when I was within earshot I called out to Mike and the creepy stranger sauntered off into the trees and disappeared. Having pulled my knife on someone within an hour of landing in a country we decided that all night walk-abouts were perhaps best carried out on lighted streets.

We cut into downtown Baku and were amazed at the beauty and architecture of the city. The entire place is being renovated and upgraded as Azerbaijan is in the midst of a very profitable oil boom. New facades of shaped sandstone with wooden balconies are going up all over the main parkways in the city, giving the entire city a facelift. We walked around in bafflement at how European the city appeared. Having found that the McDonald’s was not a 24 hour establishment in Azerbaijan, we walked to a nearby Turkish donar booth and purchased a few beers. This was the earliest breakfast beer of my life at 4:30 in the morning, but we toasted our much-anticipated arrival in Baku as the sun rose above the sandstone buildings around fountain park.

Having returned to the ferry terminal after our morning attempt failed and we had decided to enjoy the day with a nice swim, we were dismayed when we arrived and found the parking lot empty. The woman who had talked to us earlier smiled and gave us some advice: “Put your name on the list.” This was the first real information we’d received the whole trip about the ferry. What was this mysterious list?

The list turned out to be a log of people waiting in the other room. When a cargo ship has extra room and weight they allow a few passengers to make passage across the Caspian on their ship for a small fee. If a ship is transporting oil, no passengers are allowed. Outside the ferry terminal there were two cargo ships busily loading whole wooden train containers into their belly’s. We added ourselves to the list as numbers 15 and 16, and then discovered there were only 15 seats available.

We waited a while. No one knows anything because there is nothing to know. We had only to wait for the cargo to be loaded, and for a wind storm to pass before the captains of both ships would release how much space they had available. After eleven tickets were given out, the widow was closed. It reopened a bit later once the Captain’s lists arrived. There were plenty of seats for everyone waiting! We got our coupon and ran around to the various windows to de-register and then customs and baggage search before being ushered out to a ship. With a tear-filled goodbye to the drive and translator, we went through customs without incident and headed towards the ship.

The cargo ship contained several railway cars and a hull full of large metal boxes. We reluctantly gave up our passports to the Captain, as well as $100 each, and then followed a man in a T-shirt that went down to his knees up a rickety metal latter into the belly of the vessel. We climbed several sets of stairs that were more like metal ladders before we emerged into a narrow hallway covered in plastic painted to look like wood grain. He led us to a cabin and walked off without even a head nod. We smiled and waved cheerily, determined to make friends on the boat, but he wasn’t interested. Sailors really are tough as nails.

Our cabin was atrocious, but since we were expecting the worst we found it only amusing and entirely hilarious. The room had two bunks covered in blankets that looked like they were hand-woven in the 1500s. A desk along one wall was so smashed it made the room look like an abandoned cabin in the woods. Two wall cabinets with broken hooks and punched in doors held dirty linens and a sofa cushion (there is no couch on board) and then there was the bathroom, which deserves its own paragraph:

You have to kick open the door while you turn the poo-covered door knob and throw your shoulder into the upper section in order to get it to budge. Once the door is open, it takes every ounce of focus not to slam it shut again. A sink to the left inside the door is filled with bug carcasses. The shower head is rusted into modern art, while the basin that collects water from the shower now houses a collection of spider webs and urine stains. The toilet seat was down, thankfully, but Mike opened it for inspection. It contained several petrified turds. The piping was nonexistent and any water (if there was running water that is) would have to drain via a hole in the center of the tiny room that was rusted by urine. There was no light in the room, and only flies (of which there were dozens) and mysterious white spiders would dare to be in the room. The door, needless to say, was thus always firmly shut.

We set sail around 10pm, and I was soundly asleep so did not notice until morning that we had even moved. Out on the deck a strange collection of flying insects had swarmed the boat, and were now clinging onto the sides for dear life. Literally millions of the bugs would swarm any human unlucky enough to be required to walk down an exterior hallway. In the afternoon I ventured onto the deck to take pictures of the ship and search for the source of a strange and ever-constant banging noise. The bugs swarmed so ferociously that I could not inhale without sucking several in through my nostrils. The banging turned out to be the entire non-essential crew on the lower deck chiseling rust off of the main desk. They used crowbars to chisel while the bugs swarmed around them. I watched for several minutes until too many bugs blocked my vision and were so infesting my clothes that I was itching all over. I returned to my now luxurious-seeming cabin to type about the adventures on the ferry thus far, and to read. It was not until late afternoon that I returned on deck to inspect the bug situation and to find the source of an endless supply of Latin music. Young crewmen were lifting weights to the sounds of Shakira, some wrestling each other while others danced or lifted. It was a happy looking crew, despite the bugs, lack of food, lack of bathroom and crappy sleeping quarters. Strangely, everyone on board was happy to be there, ourselves included. We had tried so hard, and focused so much to get aboard a ship to Baku, that now we were thrilled to be in the petrified shit room covered in bugs and without running water or available food. Utopia couldn’t be sweeter than the feelings we had on board the ferry of euphoria and happiness.

Awaza Resort (New Dubai) Hotel

Having heard and read countless horror stories of the ferry situation from Turkmenbashi to Baku, we were eager to try for ourselves. Many a tried and tested traveler has waited for these infamous ferries only to give up and fly across the Caspian after several days of waiting. We were determined not to spoil the integrity of our “by land only” trip from Shanghai to the Western world by jumping on a plane now, having come so far. With a difficult path across the ocean ahead, we set off from Ashgabat, the capital of Turkmenistan, by car to Turkmenbashi, the city on the Turkmenistan coast. The ride is a bone-jarring seven hours, which Lauren spent entirely, unconsciously asleep while Mike looked out the window at the camels and barren landscape. We rode in style in a Land Cruiser with decked out suspension and four-wheel drive. Even more importantly, we had a cooler with day-old pizzas and a recently acquired (thanks Emily) bottle of Captain Morgan and coke. The industrious driver quickly poured out a bottle of water and used his bowie knife to cut it into a cup for Lauren’s cherished Captain Coke. The driver would yell out “SIP BREAK!” between bumps and Lauren would gulp a bit down, making this the most luxurious ride so far. The trip, thanks to the Captain and the napping, went by quickly and we pulled into Turkmenbashi without incident.

Turkmenbashi is a fascinating city with brightly painted buildings that make the white marble palaces of Ashgabat seem bland. We situated ourselves in a hotel in Awaza (the ritzy new area of Turkmenbashi that the president hopes will soon

be “the Dubai of the Caspian.” There is much work to be done before this collection of hotels along the coast picks of the resort vibe that city planners hope to achieve. One is required to drive past a large lake of oil sludge and sewage that has collected over several years and reeks in a way that is indescribably bad, though I’ll try: boiled eggs, vomit and peanut butter mixed with fish rot and the smell of sweaty sandals after a long walk.

Having situated ourselves comfortably in the hotel, we ran down to the beach and jumped in the Caspian without fanfare. The water was cold and the waves were strong, but the sea snakes that had been present on our last visit to Turkmenbashi were now gone. After several hours Mike and the driver set off to find beers, and returned with a nice collection of beer and chips, which we ate after dinner, while watching TV and gazing out across the Caspian.

The following morning was D-day for our first attempt at catching the ferry. We awoke and ate breakfast at the hotel. We picked up our translator and together drove to the ferry terminal. Originally, we wanted to do this entirely without assistance, but as the stories mounted of travelers being rejected or stranded, we opted for help. Our translator inquired around the ferry terminal about when the ships that were docked would leave for Baku. Nobody could provide an answer and the window where you buy a ticket was decidedly vacant. A border guard told us that nothing would launch until the storm passed. There were, currently, very high winds but no rain or clouds in the sky. There were about six women and their various children sitting in the waiting room, all of whom looked dejected, miserable and downtrodden. One woman, who turned out to be from Ashgabat, spoke to us in English saying a ferry might be possible that afternoon.  We got no other information and decided not to sit around and wait since we had the luxury of a driver and translator.  We went back to the hotel, swam in the Caspian until we were exhausted, ate a hearty lunch and then all returned to the ferry terminal.  More had gathered in the waiting room, but there was still no information.

Here is the process you must follow when trying to get a ferry, since many people want this information and no one else provides it in one place:

1) Put your name on the list as soon as you arrive. The list is a little notebook sitting on the counter in the ticket office. If it isn’t there, ask around until someone gets it for you.

2) After the ticket window is opened (only when a ferry if fully loaded with cargo and the Captain’s lists arrive) you will be issued a coupon. This is NOT a ticket. This simply means you were on one of the lists and deserve a spot on a ship.

3) Take your coupon to a nearby window (unmarked, but you’ll see a line of other passengers forming) where two border guards will take your passport information for their exit records.

4) Go to the waiting room and get in line to go through customs. Despite being in line, the guards come out and point at who they want to process next, don’t be offended, they take the ones who look hard to process first.

5) Once behind the white wall that separates the custom’s process from the waiting room, give your passport again to the officer waiting at a table inside the door.

6) From there, guards will usher you to a conveyor belt where your bags will be scanned and searched, they will weigh heavy-looking bags.

7) Confusingly, you need to hand your passport to a man in a window-booth across from the conveyor belt, so put your bags down and prepare to wait; here you will be de-registering from Turkmenistan. They will take your registration card out of your passport, and give you an exit stamp. Do not leave the country without it or you will be denied entry to your next country.

8) Follow the green line on the floor out into the port. Guards will be stationed to usher you ever 100m or so to an awaiting vessel. Follow their direction.

9) Once you step onto a ship, you’ll be surprised at how rough the accommodations will be. Someone will demand your

passport and the passage fee. It is safe to give them your passport, they need them to log who is on the ship, and having done ferry services without any reported incidents of passport theft, it will be safe. The fee is supposed to be $90 USD per person, but we ended up paying $100, which they said we could pay or else get off the boat. The fee includes a room.

10) Follow someone on the ship to the passenger quarters. These usually contain a bunk (or up to four in a room) and a bathroom with no running water and petrified turds in a broken toilet. Don’t use your facilities, use the public ones down the hall. Don’t complain about your room because they are all equally bad. Even though you are boarded, the ferry might not leave for several hours. Don’t ask why, you’ll get no answer anyway as no one knows anything on board the ship. In the same vein, don’t bother asking when you’ll arrive or how long the journey is. Some take 12 hours, ours took closer to 24, others report 16-18 hour trips.

11) Once you arrive in Baku, the process to disembark and go through customs is very efficient, but a lengthily process. It took our group over four hours to go through customs, start to finish. As a tip, do not mention Armenia, as the two countries are at war. Once you are processed and in the country with your entry stamp, you can hire a cab or you can simply walk away from the docks into town.

Good luck!  By the way, the process is the same whether you are going from Turkmenbashi to Baku or vice versa.

As you know, we’ve spent the last two months in Turkmenistan putting back on some of the weight we lost in Kazakhstan, and relaxing in the desert sunshine. While on holiday in the least hospitable deserts in the world, we took the downtime as an opportunity to order more gear and rearrange the stuff we have to make it more manageable on the onward journey.

Lauren’s backpack (a knock-off from China) broke 30 seconds into the trip. She bought a new one in Shanghai and it broke approximately 6 days into the trip. The lesson here: never buy knock-offs from China– they have a serious quality control problem! So, while in Turkmenistan Lauren spent her mornings doing yoga to fix the crooked spine she received carrying a 50lb. bag on one strap, and spent the evenings reading reviews on women’s expedition packs. Her new bag, an REI venus expedition bag, is amazing. It has a front-loader feature, more room, a bottom tie-on strap and a fully adjustable carry system designed for women. She is happy now, and with some of the weight removed, her 40lb, fitted bag is perfect.

In addition to the pack, Lauren ordered a three-man tent from REI (thanks to her father, who paid for that AND the awesome pack for her). The Marmot tent  we finally settled on is easy to assemble and clean, and very compact. We tested the tent in the desert on four occasions and are very happy with the quality. It is a two season tent designed for warm weather, so you can actually lay in the tent and see the stars through the mesh top. Way cool.

Since we have a tent, we needed sleeping bags. Lauren’s father also supplied those, a survival kit, and a super-nifty all-purpose camp pot to boil water in for soups and coffee. Mike purchased an mini stove with fuel tablets as well, so we are now carrying all of our food, accomedation, bedding and clothing, and a small library.

“Why are you carrying a library on your back?” you might ask. The answer is that we ordered the Lonely Planet guides for every country we’ll be going through. We need them for the maps, primarily, but also for information on visas and border crossings. You’d be surprised how much they come in handy.

While in Turkmenistan we mailed some of the things we were not using back to the States. We mailed half of our clothing, a giant pile of rocks we collected from the trip (“why were we carrying these?”) Lauren’s guitar covered in stickers from her family, and about 10 books and half of our medical kit. We discovered when it comes to carrying your house on your back, you want the smallest possible amount of stuff. Very zen, if you think about it.

Here is what we are carrying now:

• Sleeping bags
• Tent
• Lonely Planet books
• Two pants each
• Four shirts each
• Swimsuits
• Hiking boots/ water sandals
• Shampoo/bar of soap/ bar of laundry detergent/toothpaste/brushes
• Medical kit/ survival kit
• I-touch/ camera/ laptop (Lauren needs all there for work)
• Cooking kit: pot/ mini stove/ cup / chopsticks
• Food: power bars/ dehydrated soup/ ramen
• Passports and copies of passports / important contact info / visa copies

As we depart Central Asia, we’re hit with a bittersweet feeling partially of relief and partly of sadness. Central Asia is like no other place on earth. Check logic at the door, and reason as well sometimes. The people are so vastly different from one another between the Stans that each place is like stepping into an entire new continent. Some are friendly, helpful and kind while others are greedy, rude and unethical. Its a region that will test even the most tried of travelers, and will cause even the most devout to swear. At the same time, it houses some of the world’s most cherished relics, a complex and interesting history and some of nature’s most comical and magnificent structures. While in Central Asia we composed a few top ten lists, here they are, as we say adieu:

Top Ten Illegal Things We Saw in Central Asia:

• Illegal money changers with counterfeit bills
• Marijuana growing on the curb in Tashkent
• Drug deal exchanges in Bukhara
• Transporting illegal substances across borders
• Prostitutes all over Central Asia
• Bribing guards on trains, border crossings
• Dangerous driving, with no regard for safety
• Hassling tourists, foreigners
• Cops patting down travelers for money
• Camping on protected ruins

Top Five Things you Don’t Want to Hear while on rusted, Soviet Chairlift:

• “Is that a broken chair down there?”
• “I think the two seater in front of us is seating four.”
• “Are you wearing Birkenstocks?”
• “Thats definitely wreckage of a chair lift down there.”
• “…and now we have to get back down the same way.”

10 Most Difficult Things to Achieve in Central Asia:

• Getting a napkin out of the booby-trapped holders
• Crossing the street without losing a limb
• Hailing a cabby who will charge in local currency
• Avoiding food poisoning
• Conversing with anyone about Russia
• Mentioning America without getting a response of “George Bush, Michael Jackson or Michael Jordon” in return
• Finding a road without potholes
• Avoiding manty (meat dumplings)
• Changing money across currencies
• Finding shoes in any size above women’s 8

Top Five Strange Things We Heard at a Restaurant in Central Asia:

• “That guy is playing with his belly button.”
• “Last time we ate here, we didn’t get sick!”
• “Try the tongue.”
• “That guy is combing his stomach hair….”
• “Even the waitress looks like shes about to throw up.”

Top Five Strange Menu Items in Central Asia:

• Lamp Shish
• Banana Spleen
• Corn and Cancer
• Language Beef
• Two Generations
• Frog Paws
• Cinnamon of my Youth
• Seafood pizza with Fruit
• Beer: The Goner
• Fish on a Shish

Top Ten Strange Sites We Visited:

• Flaming crater called the “Gates of Hell”
• Sarcophagus of Daniel (13m long)
• The nodding donkey monument
• Mosque honoring Turkmen Dictator, not Allah
• Russian Orthodox Church in the desert with skull and bones
• Downed MiG plane on display in someone’s yard
• Snake infested section of Caspian Sea
• Torture chamber and bug pit where condemned lived for years
• “Big Mac” restaurant on top of a mountain (lamb burgers)
• Petrified dinosaur eggs in the desert

Top Five Things We’ll Miss About Central Asia:

• Friends
• Bazaars (Push-Push in particular)
• Camels, EVERYWHERE!
• 2000 year old ruins…everywhere
• Constant oddities making you shrug and say, “its CA!”

Yup, Central Asia is a strange and mysterious place! We loved our time in the region, despite a few down times (being shaken down by cops, bad border guards and dishonest cabbys). We were lucky to be able to spend over three months in the Stans!

After two months in the arid deserts of Turkmenistan, it is time to move towards water. So we’re setting out sights on the infamous ferry to Azerbaijan from Turkmenbashi.

But as we move on across the Caspian Sea, here is a list of the top things we loved in Turkmenistan:

Merv – The ancient ruins of Merv were astonishing. The dry deserts have preserved the structures yet artifacts remain just sitting on the surface for anyone to admire. Herders push their sheep and camels through 2000 year old doorways and we luckily got to camp in the shadow of Alexander the Great’s biggest capture. Here’s more on Merv.

Darvaza – The flaming crater known as the “Gates of Hell” was a top spot for us, we loved it so much we went back a second time. Nearby, the bubbling mud crater and the languid water crater were also of endless amusement. Camping out next to a gaping, fire-filled hole in the middle of an empty desert is a strange and new experience we wont soon forget! Here’s more.

Nohur – This tiny village tucked away in the mountains between Turkmenistan and Iran houses some of the most ancient of traditions. People lived as they have for hundreds of years, and we sat on a family’s roof and listened to the call to prayer echo off the mountains. Here’s more.

Caspian Sea – Swimming with sea snakes in the Caspian and photographing rusted wreckage, walking around Turkmenbashi and exploring the surrounding area by 4×4- all fun and exciting adventures to be had along the shores of Turkmenistan. Here’s more.

Ashgabat – This city, with its glowing white marble palaces and attempt at building pine forests, will forever be the strangest place we’ve been. It is constantly amusing, and not a moment is left to boredom. Ashgabat is also home to some fun attractions like Independence Park (with a giant, glowing plunger) and the Cableway to the Iranian Border and my favorite, the Push Bazaar. Nearby is Nissa, Geokdepe and an endless dead pine-tree desert.

While there was much more that we got to see and experience, this is just a taste of why we loved Turkmenistan so much.

Since many of our readers view the blog through the RSS feed, we just wanted to write to let everyone know that we’ve made massive updates to the site in the last two months, and its worth a quick check to the homepage to browse through the changes.

Abandon the Cube - Website Updates

To outline a few of the additions we’ve made:

• A humor page was added to the site about a month ago. This comprises a series of ever-updated images from around the world that we take while traveling. Some are mildly amusing, others leave you scratching your head in wonder while others will make you roll with laughter.

• We instituted a “Picture of the Week” section on the home page where we load the best picture taken that week. Check back often because we change them weekly.

• Similarly, we added a “Wish you were Here” spot on the home page that has an image of where we currently are and the location. This started as a way for family to keep track of where we are and where we’re going, and has morphed a bit to include imagery.

• We added a “Breakfast Beer” page that displays (quite pathetically) images of our breakfast beers all over the world. Since we’re on perpetual vacation, we instituted the breakfast beer as a way to remind ourselves each morning just how lucky we are to be having these adventures.

• The photo-album was updated gradually over the past month to include images from China, Mongolia, Japan and our entire Shanghai to Turkmenistan tour. Since some of you are having trouble viewing them, simply go to the photo-album site and then click on the album you want to view. There is no default album, you have to chose one on the left hand side to view pictures organized by country.

• The “Contact Us” page was removed, and added to the “About Us” page. Our email addresses and means of contact remain the same.

• The newsletter was sent last month. If you did not receive a copy and want one, you can download the 8 page document on the website’s homepage.

• Finally, we set up a ‘donate‘ button on the homepage, and want to sincerely thank everyone who has contributed. We’re so lucky and so happy to be able to continue our trip even longer thanks to your donations.

We hope you enjoy the changes we’ve made this past months, as always, if you have any suggestions please do not hesitate to contact us and let us know your ideas. We’re always eager to learn and fully willing to listen to your thoughts. A thousands thanks to the people who have already provided us with feedback and web support.

Darvaza Crater

Owing to a misplaced video of our last trip to the Darvaza crater, as well as an urge to try out new grilling methods and camping equipment, we bumped along the three and a half hour ride from Ashgabat to Darvaza last weekend. To set the stage, I pulled a muscle on the right side of my neck that morning, and was rendered useless. The idea of a multiple-hour, jarring ride through the outback seemed daunting, but the end goal of camping out again at the burning crater of the middle of the desert was reward enough to pack ice into a plastic bag and hold it against my neck the entire ride.

We arrived at 6pm, and not a moment too soon because a band of German travelers rolled into camp moments after our arrival, and were disappointed (to say the least) at encountering Americans in their territory. They huffed off into another section of the desert and set up camp out of sight. We set up camp in prime location overlooking the flaming crater just as a sudden desert downpour started. An hour later, a merry band of South Africans arrived and set up camp alongside our arrangement, and proceeded to cook their dinner. These four travelers (two couples) had traveled from the UK, and were heading home to South Africa via the Balkans and the Stans. They drove their own SUV, loaded with extra fuel cans and supplies, and were well equipped for camping.They were good fun to be around, and were as friendly a group as anyone could every ask for. Having come from the direction we’re heading, they gladly shared some travelers tips and hostel hints about Turkey and Georgia, where we will be in a few weeks. In turn, we traded information for hostels in Uzbekistan, which is where they were next setting their sights.

All tourists unaccompanied by a relative, must be in the company of a Turkmen guide, theirs was a friendly Ashgabat native named Max, who puffed away at his unfiltered cigarettes like a John Wayne character. That night, with all of the travelers safely inside their tents, he told us of a deadly black spider that stalks the desert floors at night. He finished his story and then rolled out a mat by the fire and fell asleep.

We awoke at 5:30 to watch the sun rise over the crater before cooking a hearty breakfast of steak and potatoes, coffee and an abundance of bread. The night before we had watched the crater get every more fierce-looking as the sky got darker, and we consumed a respectable amount of local beer in the process with our new African friends.We slept soundly, despite the constant rumble of trucks which were skirting the crater to lay a pipeline in through the desert, and in the morning, amid handshakes and waves, set off to visit a giant crater of boiling mud, which we had skipped last time. The crater was even larger than that of flames or water, and the mud boiled ferociously as we tossed rocks deep into the crater.

After much rock clinging amusement, we headed back for Ashgabat to visit the next best thing to the gates of hell: the Irish pub.

Asia Land Route Map

With a little help from our friends, OK a lot of help via their visa agent, we are finally all ready for onward travel to Baku, Azerbaijan.  About a week ago we decided it was time to get our travel documents in line so we went down the the Azerbaijan Embassy.  As we approached, we noticed a few dozen people standing around outside the embassy.  The doors were wide open and no one there was in uniform, so we proceeded to walk right into the embassy.

A man in khaki pants and a plain button down short-sleeved shirt put his hand on my chest after we were inside the courtyard.  Unfortunately, our Russian has not improved at all since we’ve been here and we did not understand a single thing he said except for the word “passport” – which sounds the same.  So I handed him my passport, he waved us out, and bolted the metal door leaving us, and all the other people stranded outside.  The first thing that came to my mind after that was, “Does he even work here?”

We shared a short laugh about our situation and as the smiles slowly faded from our faces over the course of the next several minutes,  we realized that this, like many things in Central Asia, was going to be a headache.  It is always what you least expect, and these little underestimations can do massive damage to your travel plans.  After standing outside the embassy doors for about 15 minutes, the man in the button down shirt poked his head out the door and handed my passport back to me, but did not say a word.  The door slammed again and the latch locked.  We waited another 15 or 20 minutes, rang the buzzer to no reply, and decided to leave.  Everyone else there looked like they had scheduled they entire day to be there.  One woman and her friend even had a small basket with her and they rolled out a blanket on the bench and had a picnic.

Our friends, who have helped us out significantly in Central Asia, passed our documents on to their visa agent to help expidite the process.  A couple days later we got terrible news that our visas had been rejected!  As our days here are numbered, this made us really nervous and we started to panic about the rest of our trip.  Luckily, we reapplied with an invitation letter – which you need even for a transit visa of 3 days apparently – and we just found out that it was accepted.  So on the weekend of the 22nd, we are heading off for Turkmenbashi to take the Caspian Sea ferry to Baku, Azerbaijan.  We plan to leave on either the 23 or 24 of August, but by the time the ferry arrives in Baku, we are going to have to rush to get to Georgia in our 72 hour period – which commences somewhere in the middle of the Caspian.  We have heard some horror stories about the Caspian Sea ferry, but are in good spirits and plan to make the most of our trip, which now consists of a few extra destinations.

Thank you to some very generous donations, we will extend our trip to Greece!  Our current itinerary, which may change again, now is: Turkmenistan, Azerbaijan, The Republic of Georgia, Turkey, Bulgaria, Macedonia, and Greece.  From Greece we may continue on through some of the Balkan States and then on through the Ukraine to Russia, Mongolia, China again, and Southeast Asia.  We are excited to get on the road again and will keep you all updated.  Thank you all again for your generous donations!