tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13592259331692513112024-03-15T01:59:25.474+11:00WalkaboutsSuzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-76541997189056219252011-02-28T08:53:00.005+11:002011-02-28T11:57:04.429+11:00My top ten moments spent with locals: I met them by chance and they are still in my heart<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RxevpglFYKI/AAAAAAAAA7k/hSmmFG6d-g8/s640/DSCN6169.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 297px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RxevpglFYKI/AAAAAAAAA7k/hSmmFG6d-g8/s640/DSCN6169.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">1. Albanian Nona: She dotingly tends to my cuts after a near-death experience hiking to get to her mountain home.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">2. Russian Nadia: We wake in her Moscow lounge/bedroom giggling whilst recounting stories of table dancing away the night before.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">3. Russian Boris: After tracking me down at Nadia’s place, he leans out his SUV’s window proclaiming “Russian and Australian family reunite HA HA!”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">4. Georgian Goram: The morning after attending an infamous Georgian Table of dangerous toasting marathons, war-troubled Goram slings his arm around my ruined husband in brotherly camaraderie.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">5. Georgian saviour: After being scared witless by the treacherous road up to mystical Tusheti I feel the opposite coming down with the Georgian Off Road Champion.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">6. Turkish Yilmez: After dinner in his Amasra apartment I feel touched when helping him understand an English love letter from his Russian internet girlfriend.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">7. Afrikaans Melinda: We feel elated - she calls me her angel - as we escape a toxic situation together in rural Freestate.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">8. Namibian Jacques: He convinces me to drive while he hangs out the window, yelling to the desert his joy in being alive.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />9. Kyrgz hostess: She tucks me into bed under dense quilts in her isolated yurt in the mountains of Kyrgyzstan.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">10. Serbian Maja: Four month pregnant, tears glisten as I read her email explaining a dream she had of when we would meet again; she is selling flowers in Zemun and I arrive holding the hand of a little girl.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">This post has been entered into the <a href="http://grantourismotravels.com/">Grantourismo</a> <a href="http://www.holiday-rentals.co.uk/?icid=IL_Redirects_IB_T_Text_None_LEXT_all">HomeAway Holiday-Rentals</a> <a href="http://grantourismotravels.com/2011/02/15/grantourismo-travel-blogging-competition-february/">travel blogging competition</a></span></span><br /><p></p>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-6195946606737932542011-01-31T22:07:00.009+11:002011-02-28T11:58:59.789+11:00In Russian's shoes<span style="font-family:georgia;">My boots were on their last legs after only a few months of travel. They had marched me around Central Asia, propelled by a desire to not miss out on anything.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />Upon entering Russia my boots and I dramatically slowed in pace when good fortune led me to a man called Boris. An enigma of a man with a commanding personality, Boris offered me a ride to Volgograd with his family. Two weeks later I said goodbye to him. </span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />Boris told me what I was to be doing. Without discussion I was taken to his Moscow soviet-era communal apartment and given it for as long as I wanted. I lived there within the tangled lives of my flat mates who had been together a long time. Boris would suddenly appear and tear off with me out of town. I stepped into his complicated family and would wake under a vodka cloud inside their postage-stamp sized flat or contrasting palatial <span style="font-style: italic;">Dacha </span>(country home).</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />Slowing down and letting Boris take over allowed me to feel like I got to know Russians. I lived like a Russian, ate like a Russian, tried to speak like a Russian, and, of course, got drunk like a Russian.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I was also shamed into looking like a Russian. It was time to bury my almost sole-less boots and look the part in much more stylish leather. I left them in a pile of rubbish behind my flat, to solider on there forever as a part of me.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECuGOH4aW0H7wcb3v2nVeNsoRDeFEdBp2951RczwxMx6ZCJ51sldSqlSrKPsszr2_8iZG9D1pb5mLGOZlXEcLx0JIBRg9U4plvepbP36sT9tya6b6UHStNUKZgIJOXiQrAZLrcc9jHwM/s720/F1050033.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 407px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECuGOH4aW0H7wcb3v2nVeNsoRDeFEdBp2951RczwxMx6ZCJ51sldSqlSrKPsszr2_8iZG9D1pb5mLGOZlXEcLx0JIBRg9U4plvepbP36sT9tya6b6UHStNUKZgIJOXiQrAZLrcc9jHwM/s720/F1050033.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">This post has been entered into the <a href="http://grantourismotravels.com/2011/01/10/grantourismo-travel-blogging-competition-january/">Grantourismo</a> <a href="http://www.holiday-rentals.co.uk/?icid=IL_Redirects_IB_T_Text_None_LEXT_all">HomeAway Holiday-Rentals</a> travel blogging competition.</span></span><br /><p></p>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-3030692151359217942010-12-20T11:58:00.002+11:002010-12-27T12:29:37.609+11:00Thanksgiving Virgins<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_y_QqQWp_iDI/TRfnJBWDlnI/AAAAAAAACIw/32AonFWHWL4/s912/IMG_7189.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 415px; height: 277px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_y_QqQWp_iDI/TRfnJBWDlnI/AAAAAAAACIw/32AonFWHWL4/s912/IMG_7189.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-size:100%;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;">As Australians in Australia on a balmy night in November we went to our first Thanksgiving dinner. Kimberly, our new American friend and her Aussie husband, Shawn, were recreating Kimberly’s favourite holiday for a little taste of home. </p></span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I knew this would be no simple affair. Weeks before, our cleverly crafted invitation <span style=""> </span>arrived, itself a labour of love. It announced it’s traditional to contribute to the meal, mine to be a vegetable platter. That I could do!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Their apartment was filled with an intriguing mix of Kimberly’s fellow American Thanksgiving orphans, randomly acquired new Australian friends, and members of Shawn’s family. American football graced the TV, pre-recorded for traditional atmosphere. The men prancing in pads were dutifully ignored in preference for the spectacular array of food that required days of preparation.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Wondrous things like: sweet cake type stuff to eat with your main meal; a turkey the size of a wombat; cheesy, creamy sides. I scoffed it all and headed for the desert table for, amongst other treats, my first ever Pumpkin Pie.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"><span style="font-size:100%;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;">The best part of the evening: giving thanks. Most notable was the Americans, thankful for the opportunity to celebrate their special holiday just like at home. It was a touching way for a random group of people to honour being brought together, only for today, to break bread.</p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">We waddled home feeling like it was Christmas already – but it wasn’t! We would eat like this again in a month’s time. I could get used to this.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">This post has been entered into the <a href="http://grantourismotravels.com/2010/12/14/grantourismo-travel-blogging-competition-december/">Grantourismo</a> <a href="http://www.holiday-rentals.co.uk/?icid=IL_Redirects_IB_T_Text_None_LEXT_all">HomeAway Holiday-Rentals</a> travel blogging competition.</span></span><br /></p>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-43110307335952406692008-12-22T23:20:00.003+11:002009-06-29T21:37:09.444+10:00Can't be captured<span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1245323998_0" >Time flies</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> and I have finally got around to putting some of our pictures from </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1245323998_1" >Hong Kong</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> and </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1245323998_2" style="font-family:georgia;">Madagascar</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> online (see Photos links).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I guess I haven't been thrilled to do this as our pictures don't come close to capturing how magical our holiday was. I didn't write an update as I couldn't figure how to put in words how much fun it was. I still can't. But, you can have fun seeing how spectacularly daggy I looked in hiking gear.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/SU4rpexiAFI/AAAAAAAAB14/m9TBTlfYeWU/s576/Madagaskar%20080.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 193px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/SU4rpexiAFI/AAAAAAAAB14/m9TBTlfYeWU/s576/Madagaskar%20080.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo courtesy of Trude</span><br /></div>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-22693591361780806422007-10-22T20:35:00.015+10:002009-07-24T09:14:59.885+10:00"Magnificence" + "What the Hell!" = The Caucasus<span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">After about six weeks in the Caucasus we realised oddities had become the norm. Where to begin telling the stories! Our time in Georgia was dominated by the people and the mountains and was all at once magnificent, plenty of "What the hell is going on now!?", thrilling and ultimately too short. Armenia was an education in the cradle of Christianity where we were charmed by this remarkable ancient race and didn't want to leave.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >Georgia:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The Georgians were to us generous, open-hearted, passionate, stunningly male chauvinistic and boastful.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">They tried to kill us with kindness and we ran away to Armenia for a while leaving pillars of smoking <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">faux</span></span> pas in our path. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">They express themselves regularly in emotive and heart-felt toasts that Mick had to match, and he did a good job.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">They live and breathe their orthodox religion and their churches are some of the loveliest I have ever seen. Delicate stone work from centuries past; emotive icons busy being kissed. We met two boys smoking dope that were off to spend a month praying in a monastery.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The man responsible for 20 million deaths (more or less, depends who you read) has a shrine built to him and is praised in toasts: the most famous Georgian ever - Stalin. Here he still stands in some squares and hangs on walls; he may have made mistakes, but look what he achieved - the Big Man! We saw his death mask, poked around his personal train carriage and the humble home he grew up in. Creepy. However, the lovely young man showing us around invited us to tea where we met his parents.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Now, the wine. The Georgian wine reputation greatly preceded our visit from ancient Roman writings, period novels to travellers rapt guest book comments. We were looking forward to it but ended up wondering what the hell was going on as at no point did anyone admit the wine is crap.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">When Georgians presented us with wine at their parties or at home with a flourish it was the vilest stuff I've ever tasted and had bits floating in it. This might explain the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Georgian's</span></span> juvenile attitude to alcohol - "don't enjoy it, just drink it" - as glasses of wine (and firewater homemade spirits) must be downed in one or you will be shouted down. We visited a Soviet-era wine factory (some craftily labelled plonk for the Chinese market - Stalin again!) and another winery in the famous wine district of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Kakheti</span></span> with an equally bemused Israeli couple. We convinced ourselves it wasn't too bad, but I ended up with a horror headache. A final effort involved sitting in the swankiest wine bar in Tbilisi and ordering the most expensive bottle. It was as good as anything mass-produced anywhere else. There, I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ve</span></span> said it.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/Rxe4eglFYRI/AAAAAAAAA88/oZlkTcOTe3Q/s400/DSCN6386.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 259px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/Rxe4eglFYRI/AAAAAAAAA88/oZlkTcOTe3Q/s400/DSCN6386.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >Stalin-based marketing campaign for Georgian wine to the Chinese market</span><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />The magnificent Caucasus Mountains were beyond-words beautiful and we couldn't get enough, so we climbed into them three times.<br /><br />First was the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Kazbegi</span></span> region. We were taken there by a Georgian friend, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Lasha</span></span>, and his uncle. We climbed to a stunningly located church. Shared much vodka and stayed with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Lasha's</span></span> crazy friends who starved us as no woman was around to grow the food and cook it. Hiked gorgeous <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Truso</span></span> Gorge inspecting the carcasses of sheep left behind by wolves who killed another 80 of their mates. Attended a Georgian christening party under the stars to experience the legendary toasting traditions and grown men rolling around drunk.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RxevpglFYKI/AAAAAAAAA7k/hSmmFG6d-g8/s512/DSCN6169.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 370px; height: 278px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RxevpglFYKI/AAAAAAAAA7k/hSmmFG6d-g8/s512/DSCN6169.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >The morning after the night before: Georgian friends with Mick.</span><br /></div><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Next was the mysterious </span><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Svaneti</span></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> region reached by one of the most thrilling trips of my life - in the belly of a worn Russian military helicopter passing by one of Georgia's conflict zones. Exciting stuff as it wound up to an ear splitting nudge off the ground to float into the mountains, seemingly just skimming over ridges. Words absolutely fail me on how beautiful it was up there.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">The local kids had a party in our campsite all night; tire marks at the door of our tent in the morning. We checked out their concert of a guy with a camel toe in his pants inexplicably singing in English making up his own Brit Pop tunes. I got another five minutes of fame when a camera crew nearly fell over on discovering we were Australian and got us on film raving about </span><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Svaneti</span></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> (but not the band).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Finally we made a dash to remote </span><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Tusheti</span></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> where the trip up surprised me by making me scared. Not an unreasonable fear as we ascended up a steep single jeep track from 500m to 3000m in a Toyota that early on hit a rock and lost its high gears. Well worth it though, as the scenery again was majestic and the village life fascinating in how different it was to our own.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">There was no power or running water to the now mostly empty villages as hardy shepherds drove their flocks down for the winter. We walked between pretty slate villages, accompanied by </span><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Loma</span></span> the <span style="font-family: georgia;">62kg Caucasian dog whose head was the size of a </span><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">bear's</span></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">. C</span>oncerned about the approaching winter, we joined the Georgian Off-Road Club on their trip down even though one of them was a tool who nearly died driving his vehicle half-way off a precipice the night before. But, this time I had a thrilling time, much more confident in our Georgian 2006 Off-Road Driving Champion and his serious 4 x 4 machine. We pushed our way through flocks of sheep, one thousand strong, and herds of cattle and horses that were watched over by the shepherd's pack of ear and tail-less Caucasian dogs.</span><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/Rxe40glFYZI/AAAAAAAAA-A/a60fEZ-vYRk/s512/DSCN6446.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 362px; height: 271px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/Rxe40glFYZI/AAAAAAAAA-A/a60fEZ-vYRk/s512/DSCN6446.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >The Georgian Off-Road Club heading down from Tusheti, pushing through a flock of sheep doing the same thing.</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />I left Georgia with a heavy heart filled with a crowd of faces of those who eagerly went out of their way to look after us. After all the time we spent in Georgia and digging pretty deep I felt we left unsatisfied, there is so much more to the place but they had worn us out this time.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Armenia:</span><br /><br />In Armenia we loved staying in private homes where we were welcomed like visiting dignitaries, especially when they found out we were Australian (rare in these parts). Armenian's would throw their whole body into frantically waving us over to join them for vodka and food. But they <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">didn</span></span>’t try to kill us with it like the Georgians.<br /><br />We learnt about their long history of survival and found their quiet resilience, open-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">heartedness</span></span> and generosity remarkable, despite all they have been through. Their longing for all they had lost over the centuries was palpable. Such as biblical Mt. Ararat - achingly sacred to all Armenians - but it is in another country. I was taken aback to see the mountain looming over Yerevan, so close, but with the border slammed shut by the Turks: you can look but not touch.<br /><br />The Genocide Museum did what it was supposed to and made me sick with the images. The Turkish government only last week said it "never happened".<br /><br />Armenian’s were the first Christian nation, building churches when now long-dead races were waving swords about. Our Armenian church experience started in Turkey, at the most fascinating church I have ever seen - on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Akdamar</span></span> Island in massive Lake Van. In Armenia we saw at least a monastery a day, each with its own ancient architectural feats. They seemed to grow out of the remote locations we found them in. I won't bore you with a list of them, but thanks to our guide / driver <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Gagik</span></span> they came alive for us. He is a charming artist whose passion for his landscape drew the beauty of it even more into our eyes. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Gagik</span></span> became a friend too, especially with Mick over a homemade rocket fuel mulberry vodka session!<br /><br />We giggled calling out to each other in retro bathtubs watched over by a nurse in a lurid synthetic uniform at a thermal mineral spring resort. We were confused why we had to visit a doctor first – serious medical institution, not for fun it seems!<br /><br />You know when your meal is slow arriving at a restaurant you say, "Are they out the back killing it!?" Well, here they are. I discovered this wandering off to the loo at one outdoor restaurant, walking past a man busy hacking up a sheep hanging from an A-frame. Driving through villages we would be greeted by a decapitated cow - her skin on one side of the road, the butcher selling the rest of her on a sheet on the other. Fruit and veg is picked straight off the plant and put on the table. It was the freshest food of our lives, and none of it had a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">yuppy</span></span> organic price tag.<br /><br />We really <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">didn</span></span>’t want to leave, there <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">wasn</span></span>’t much left to see, but there was something about the Armenian’s that I can’t quite explain. We felt at home.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/Rxe7VwlFYoI/AAAAAAAABAU/b6TdSD9DlQU/s512/DSCN6253.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 262px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/Rxe7VwlFYoI/AAAAAAAABAU/b6TdSD9DlQU/s512/DSCN6253.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" ><span class="gphoto-photocaption-caption">Gagik and Mick joining cheerful locals for vodka at Hayravank monastery, Lake Sevan.</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Turkey:</span><br /><br />We have been back in the land of mighty <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">moes</span> for two weeks, greatly enjoying the super friendly but not overbearing Black Sea Turks and having a quiet, relaxing end to our Walkabout. All along the way locals helped us before we even knew we needed it.<br /><br />We were <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">leapt</span> on by traders to join in their street-side feast at the end of a Ramadan day.<br /><br />Explored yet another beautiful mountain range, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Kackar</span>, listening to the call to prayer dance amongst the brilliant autumn colours of our alpine village.<br /><br />We cruised the entire length of the Black Sea coast, the best bit being on a little winding road amongst cliffs and ranges dotted with minarets and villages of tumbling Ottoman homes on the sea. Just beautiful, and not an ugly resort in sight. We thought we were in heaven, wiling away days in a charming fishing village where every bin had a cat in it. Fell in love with Istanbul - must return one day.<br /><br />We are back in Melbourne on Friday, back at the desk on Monday. We'll miss meeting curious and friendly people, dogs and cats everyday. Mick won't miss the accursed money belt and bashing his head on low doors. I'm just looking forward to a decent vino.<br /></span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-35359767438509303882007-09-30T20:17:00.008+10:002009-07-12T19:03:38.159+10:00Eastern Turkey - Holy Carp Batman<span style="font-family:georgia;">Beyond our intermission in the UK and most of the way through our second, more challenging and exotic leg of the Walkabout, here's some results:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Physical Status - The trip before Istanbul endowed me with a bum an African woman would be proud of, built on sometimes monotonous food and omnipresent vino. Since then I have been alternating between the squirts (thanks Turkey), great variety and tastiness in food (thanks Georgia and Armenia), starving (Georgia too), weeks without booze (too much Turkish tea) or forced to skull vodka (those piss head Caucasians). Need a hair cut; I've grown a daggy Diana.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Mental Status - Head crammed to overload of experiences and images of previously unheard of ancient wonders, historic horrors, beyond words natural beauty, loony alphabets, local's everyday lives. Thus, I'll only tackle Turkey in this update.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">After breathing in the exotic feel of Istanbul only briefly, we bolted for the great interior of Turkey. We decided to focus on the east with only a smattering of tourists (thanks PKK) and found a load of stuff we had never heard of before. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">One of the most friendly and safe places I have ever been was a pious, Muslim pilgrimage town - Urfa. We still regret not staying longer to soak up the mix of dress of the Iranian or Arabic pilgrims, wander the labyrinth bazaar, laze in the peaceful gardens, chat with the pleasant locals who stopped us every five minutes or scream "ewwwwww" at the writhing mass of holy carp eating our breadcrumbs. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We were swollen with tea in Mardin, a town of honey coloured, old, extravagant mansions dripping down a mountain side. The view of the roasting plains of Mesopotamia spread below our tea house, seemingly into antiquity.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Filled with quiet excitement at the beauty of little Hasankeyf, we climbed the ancient fortress overlooking the Tigris river, yellow mountains, and people still living in caves. Batman was up the road but dodgy apparently.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RxerUwlFXqI/AAAAAAAAA2c/GyCF5z2YfsQ/s512/DSCN5896.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 347px; height: 260px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RxerUwlFXqI/AAAAAAAAA2c/GyCF5z2YfsQ/s512/DSCN5896.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >Mick's favourite photo: Hasankeyf and the Tigris River in a scene unchanged for centuries.</span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We visited both Mt Nemruts. One at dawn to watch the sun spread across the ancient stone heads left to honour a long ago king. On top of the other Nemrut we splashed about in a volcanic lake and watched locals devour a whole sheep for a picnic - brought along alive.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Turkish baklava is the best!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I was denied paradise - found a house full of cats, but I could hardly touch them. The rare pure white cats of Van, many with one green and one blue eye, are in quarantine playing in gardens caged by mesh or bars that I could at least stick my fingers through.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/Rxer6wlFX2I/AAAAAAAAA4A/ReZbbH6X2FQ/s512/DSCN5977.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 228px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/Rxer6wlFX2I/AAAAAAAAA4A/ReZbbH6X2FQ/s512/DSCN5977.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >A mysterious Van Cat</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Anyone heard of the Urartians? Well I hadn't, but we met a man who spoke their ancient language and checked out millennia-old ruins.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />M</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">t Ararat took our breath away as it loomed over us from its 5,137m height with the remains of the top 1,825m spewed about from an eruption a while ago. I'm confused as to why anyone believes a bit of old lava flow is Noah's Ark. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RxesCwlFX5I/AAAAAAAAA4Y/8hQQAFRBXcI/s512/DSCN6003.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 311px; height: 233px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RxesCwlFX5I/AAAAAAAAA4Y/8hQQAFRBXcI/s512/DSCN6003.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" ><span class="gphoto-photocaption-caption">Us and Noah's Ark - apparently</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />I had a Turkish bath, of course, and briefly was less of a grot - scrubbed so clean.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Kars was a dump of a town, but the nearby old Armenian city of Ani was eerie and magnificent. Various earthquakes and destructive hordes left only the walls, churches and mosque standing. An act of God? Ani is long deserted, but quietly watched by Russian guards on the locked-down border with Armenia. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">In the east we met plenty of overeager locals offering tea, seemingly every few minutes. However, the stone-throwing, doodle flashing, 'money, money, money' chanting kids can grow boils on their tongues. Also, it’s the most traditional part of Turkey, and there were just too many men around - women were kept at home. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">After trying to fit the east into three weeks, we were stuffed - moving too fast.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />Entering Georgia was a welcome, dramatic change, evident by the first Georgian we met - a woman with a job. The relief spread from there: women freely walking on the streets, flirting with boys on the beach, drinking alcohol. We chilled on the Black Sea coast seeing lots of things to laugh / cry at, but I'll get to that next time.</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-40373834698261575252007-08-11T19:51:00.008+10:002009-07-12T19:11:59.893+10:00East to West and back again<span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Since my last update we have passed from heat wave to a very soggy country; been defeated by food and run with open arms to the curry restaurants of England and fabulous cheese of France; been cultured with concerts and theatre; marched around mountains, coasts and dales; and enjoyed glittering hospitality with friends and family. As I have been slack in writing this is going to be long...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >Bosnia:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I greatly enjoyed this little country with big mountains and recent, very visible history. Catholic bell towers, Orthodox onion domes and minarets compete on the sky line. There is endless pots of Turkish coffee and too many restaurants dedicated to one national dish.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We watched posers jump off the magnificent Old Bridge of </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Mostar</span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, clapped along with disabled kids at a music therapy concert, and marvelled the super kitsch on offer at a Catholic pilgrimage site.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RpQhCNonwWI/AAAAAAAAAmE/O-eQoOk84Ak/s512/3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 315px; height: 240px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RpQhCNonwWI/AAAAAAAAAmE/O-eQoOk84Ak/s512/3.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A gaggle of Mary's for sale at Medjugorje</span></span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Mick and I can't stand seeing food wasted and can eat just about anything - except risotto swimming in squid ink. It tasted like nothing, except very wrong. We kept eating though, until raising the white flag in defeat.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We didn't want to leave Sarajevo; a gutsy, compact place full of life. We learnt a lot of the daunting recent history. Free philharmonic concert. Too much of the national dish.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We went for a walk in the Bosnian mountains with a sugar fiend called </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Larenc</span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> who fed us multiple pieces of cake (with ice cream) for breakfast. Spectacular scenery, apparently. We saw mostly the inside of clouds, but the dense primeval forest and </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Larenc's</span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> passion for the outdoors (and sugar) made a great day.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >Croatia:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We then almost turned into puddles lounging on the Croatian coast for another two weeks. </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Soooo</span></span> lazy. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style="font-family:georgia;">We tracked down the </span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> quietest coves on laid back islands and mostly had them all to ourselves (except for a few </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">nudeys</span> here and there</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">). Crystal water against silver rocks topped by forbidding, spiky vegetation. However, a heat wave struck and the crowds were growing, so the first day of summer was our last on the coast.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RpQga9onwPI/AAAAAAAAAlM/oMymrizzih4/s512/21.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 346px; height: 259px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RpQga9onwPI/AAAAAAAAAlM/oMymrizzih4/s512/21.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" >Our private cove within the National Park on Mljet Island</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >Montenegro:</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RpQe5Nonv3I/AAAAAAAAAiM/-RMHGrVy0go/s400/13.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 207px; height: 276px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RpQe5Nonv3I/AAAAAAAAAiM/-RMHGrVy0go/s400/13.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">This was our second visit to Montenegro and we gave the interior a good shot. The harsh coast gave way to glorious mountains, a colossal canyon and lush fields. There was whole families out building their hay stacks – it looked idyllic from the bus as the setting sun cast long shadows behind the high stacks, but not fun for the women stripped to their bras in the oppressive heat.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >Serbia:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Our travel </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">mojo</span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> was now a little off kilter. Little things would not work out quite right, i.e. we would go for a walk and end up in the wrong place, but had a nice enough time anyway. We got seriously over identical menus of meat with canned veg. Hunted down a spa described by Serbian tourism as “peaceful, relaxing, therapeutic, historic” and were surprised this description matched the 70s communist era brown public pool oldies on crutches put their faith in.</span><br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Anyhoo</span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, this all changed when we lobed in on a Hospitality Club mate, Jimmy the Eccentric Philosopher, in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Novi</span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> Sad. We crashed in his flat which was the size of our storage unit at home. Found a Chinese restaurant. Stumbled across a wine festival. Tasted lots of yummy local vino and chatted with growers. Slightly pissed, I got dragged into saying a bit to camera for their festival promo video! Somewhere on Serbian TV is a grotty, unglamorous traveller giggling, "Hi from Australia, Wine is Love!" What a worry. Stayed up to 4am in bars with Jimmy's mates.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RpQiTtonwqI/AAAAAAAAAog/f2nsfth3-Pw/s512/DSCN5453.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RpQiTtonwqI/AAAAAAAAAog/f2nsfth3-Pw/s512/DSCN5453.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">In Belgrade we stayed with a gorgeous character and new mate, </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Maja</span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, in her flat for five nights. She cooked yummy stuff for us, Venison Goulash! We were homebodies together with her charming cat; again off kilter as this is supposed to be a major party capital! But we enjoyed being at home and learning about the intricacies of her social life in the Balkan’s big smoke. She cried when we left.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >UK:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Now we have been in the UK for over a month and can’t express enough how much we have enjoyed the hospitality of our friends and family here. Thank you all again for looking after us so well. Catching up with you has been a great highlight of our trip.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We miraculously tip-toed around all the rain deluges and flooding. We spent time with my parents and </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Scotty</span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> in the wilds of Scotland in the (almost) most northerly cottage on the mainland.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RxeA9QlFXSI/AAAAAAAAAwE/hGr09nZkt3A/s512/DSCN5510.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 228px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RxeA9QlFXSI/AAAAAAAAAwE/hGr09nZkt3A/s512/DSCN5510.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" >Most of the Wehl family at Dunnet Head, the most Northern spot on the main island of Britian</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />We saw surprisingly beautiful beaches, dramatic cliffs, cute puffins, funny seals, sheep so fat (and some locals) that if they fell over they </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">couldn</span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">’t get up again, and met friendly Scots in t-shirts while we wore beanies. We also drove around for a week further south tasting whisky, watching strong men toss cabers and rambled in mysterious glens.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Another week was spent in the picture perfect Yorkshire Dales spotting steam trains, catching up with a friend and marching through people’s farms. Now back in London after two days tasting all things French with friends in Lille, we are about to fly out on Monday to Istanbul to resume our eastern adventure.</span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-75973607515267816822007-05-29T19:11:00.010+10:002013-12-03T15:07:08.184+11:00Albania, Montenegro & Croatia - Wooo hooo<span style="font-family: georgia;">Since the last update we have had two weeks in Albania - wow, what a time! It is now high on our list of favourite countries. We didn't find the dangers that fog foreigner's minds from a decade ago (uprisings, crime). Instead, this diamond in the rough gave us everything we wanted out of our trip. Life changing experiences, breath-taking scenery, visible fascinating history, beautiful people who welcomed us to their tables and in their homes, looked out for us on the buses or just gave us a wave on the street. Many countries are friendly but this was another level. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Traditionally</span> guests were placed next to God, and we felt this trait at every turn.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">There is the rough edges of a poor country (rubbish, broken communist buildings when everyone went on a looting rampage, some rough roads) but they are fast emerging from the ashes of a complicated history. Get in quick, this will have to be a travel hot spot soon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">The coast was spectacular. We sat on the beach drinking with boys from Kosovo and hung out playing chess with the guys at our beach side hotel; had the best fish meals of our lives; drove tiny, old road winding around the mountains that crash into the sea, shepherds and their flocks diving out of the way; sat on long pebble beaches all to ourselves with little coves to climb around to.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">We explored ancient hilltop fortresses and checked out how Ottoman's lived in their mansions. We climbed in, on and around the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">indestructible</span> bunkers that litter the entire country; placed there by Enver Hoxha's paranoia.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikLrEju-CVcClSk5JZ20a6kAxbndPnhDegQuBr8HjaidDj4c9x-JLKtfrAjMKH4j39sUyeybGUroGjgOXnF1V7KMrc7P8q8uzUgiiRkSQOhPeTqvoUB2Bzt8QIsbGC2g_cTpW4i5xDIqY/s512/DSCN4955.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikLrEju-CVcClSk5JZ20a6kAxbndPnhDegQuBr8HjaidDj4c9x-JLKtfrAjMKH4j39sUyeybGUroGjgOXnF1V7KMrc7P8q8uzUgiiRkSQOhPeTqvoUB2Bzt8QIsbGC2g_cTpW4i5xDIqY/s512/DSCN4955.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 248px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 332px;" /></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 85%;">Mick on top of one of the many one-man size bunkers that will litter Albania for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">eternity</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">We stayed in the trendiest area of Tirana where the communist honchos once lived it up behind walls to keep everyone else out. We took in celebrity spotting as we stood with a media pack gawking at the Prime Minister.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">Inspired by an evocative book about the Accursed Mountains, we just had to see them and the mountain people's traditional life for ourselves. The people used to live by a specific code, the Kanun, that included rules about conducting blood feuds. We took a guide, Florian. He is well educated, worldly and has a great laugh - we became good mates.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">We travelled into the remote north, got a ferry up to a spectacular dam, stayed in traditional homes. On our six month anniversary we challenged ourselves walking over a mountain pass covered in snow with stunning weather and views.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RlxTKkE0xRI/AAAAAAAAAeY/xQMXFnQekgc/s512/DSCN5040.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RlxTKkE0xRI/AAAAAAAAAeY/xQMXFnQekgc/s512/DSCN5040.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 272px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 363px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Florian, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Zeni</span> (local Shepard) and Mick on our challenging walk in the Accursed Mountains</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />We stayed with a gorgeous </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">grannie</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> and her son for four days in a monstrous valley on the other side. We ate home made everything (butter, honey, </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">raki</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> etc) and explored the area. Tastiest water ever. We saw the tower men used to lock themselves up in forever to avoid being killed in a blood feud. Met kids who acted very grown up. Everyone was working hard in their fields.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">We were the first Australians anyone in the village had met. How weird is that!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">Alas, we left Albania and had a week on the Montenegrin coast. We enjoyed </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Ulcinj</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> where the local men swam in their undies and lolled around in the black sand. Cute old town. Good local vino varieties.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">There was more cute old walled towns along the small coast, along with big tourist holiday spots. We stayed in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Kotor</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> within the beautiful, old, walled, vibrant town on the edge of a stunning fjord. But I must admit, we were not in a touristy holiday mood and got a bit bored. Maybe we had too much excitement in Albania.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">Now, we have just concluded another super duper highlight of the trip - a week on the Croatian island of </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Vis</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> with our friends Ben and Emma. Again, it was everything we could ever hope for. We had quality time with good friends; met many friendly locals who invited us into their homes; learnt much of the islands history and culture; enjoyed charming villages with low key tourism and great restaurants - more fabulous fish dishes.</span><br />
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RpQf7tonwBI/AAAAAAAAAjY/-SotGzvWY3g/s512/7.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RpQf7tonwBI/AAAAAAAAAjY/-SotGzvWY3g/s512/7.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 129px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 172px;" /></a><span style="font-family: georgia;">Emma and Ben took us to the gems of the island such as a winery set up in old WWII tunnels; a fancy dinner co</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">o</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">ked</span> in a </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Peka</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> at another winery (like a big cast iron </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">tagine</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> - I want to </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">buy one n</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">ow!); swimming in special spots in the glittering blue sea; and a boat trip into a florescent blue sea cave that took our breath away. Their home in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Vis</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> town was a haven of cosy comfort.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RpQf4tonv_I/AAAAAAAAAjI/hHutECJSQr4/s512/5.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RpQf4tonv_I/AAAAAAAAAjI/hHutECJSQr4/s512/5.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 216px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 288px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span class="gphoto-photocaption-caption" style="font-family: arial;">Mick and Emma lit by the glowing blue cave, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Bisevo</span> Island</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">Time to go farewell them. </span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-25509928043172874392007-05-01T19:01:00.003+10:002009-07-12T19:19:11.476+10:00Greece - Cafe Loafing Wannabees<span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Mick and I have had a month in Greece now. There is a lot more to it, but we feel we have had a good look about Northern Greece. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We hung out with more Greek-residing Germans, marvelling the emerald (by Greek standards) isle of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Samothraki</span> where there are more goats than people. We wandered ruins of temples more ancient than the Olympian Gods with only some goat herders for company.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Bird watchers we are not, but you have to get excited about a flock of massive black vultures flying just over your head! We perched in a hide spying on three different types of vultures bickering over something dead. They deserve their reputation as looking menacing, but they are fascinating all the same.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">The draft wine at dinner is cheaper than coca-cola; only once was it truly vile. We've eaten everything Greek in sight. There is such a thing as too much cheese. We haven't, however, had enough of Greek sweet shops. Service in bars and restaurants is second to none. Travel has been too easy as everyone is so friendly.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">We tried to imitate the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">professional</span> cafe loafers, sitting on one drink for hours. Mick discovered why they sometimes don't even bother finishing their token coffee - he had one and couldn't get to sleep until 3am.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">We saw more snakes in one day than in my whole life. The pretty <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Prespa</span> Lakes were ringed with tall reeds – a cesspit of musical frogs, birds and snakes. Since the mobs of Greek teenagers on a school trip didn't notice them (expect the bus driver stabbing some snakes with a stick), mobile phones still glued to their ears, we assumed they mustn't be poisonous and walked amongst them on the shore - carefully.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">We drove around the stunning <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Zagoria</span> villages for days in drizzle. Blending in with the mountains as they are made from the same stuff - slate, sturdy, proud - these villages cluster together in impossible locations in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">breathtaking</span> mountain ranges. We brought on vertigo looking into the colossal <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Vikos</span> Gorge; almost one kilometre deep, and over one kilometre across.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5clfiyB43hVOh_Ntwr7iRtsCu8T4thULYQRjg6xsolve5DejxnVAHgVlEL1i_KwOOamjXJYyWJU9E0pSX435JZCCNyRvxz4SiHb2WBRpjbCg4k3L7aFct51Xrz1K_4pB6_5nR0QUhIM/s512/P4250270.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 323px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5clfiyB43hVOh_Ntwr7iRtsCu8T4thULYQRjg6xsolve5DejxnVAHgVlEL1i_KwOOamjXJYyWJU9E0pSX435JZCCNyRvxz4SiHb2WBRpjbCg4k3L7aFct51Xrz1K_4pB6_5nR0QUhIM/s512/P4250270.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" >Me looking down into the immense <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Vikos</span> Gorge</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We finished up in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Meteora</span> marvelling the monasteries perched on giant rocks and hordes of tourists. Until then we hadn't seen many other foreigners, but here we were lucky to get a bed or not get run over by a tour bus.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RjdhI3Q_LHI/AAAAAAAAAao/dD2jHcwVv1A/s512/029.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 331px; height: 248px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RjdhI3Q_LHI/AAAAAAAAAao/dD2jHcwVv1A/s512/029.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" >A scene of the monastries of Meteora</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Now we are in Albania. People are more reserved than the colourful Greeks, but friendly just the same. We were greeted by fields of one-size-fits-all bunkers poking out like mushrooms from crazier days of the mad dictator's, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Enver</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Hoxha</span>, reign.</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-33182020489554377272007-04-12T18:53:00.003+10:002009-07-12T19:21:15.128+10:00Greece - Aaaaahhhh<span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Mick and I are now over a week into our post-wedding big travel adventure and I am afraid I might not have any of my travel tales of weirdness or laughable disasters. We are in Greece and it all has been.... lovely.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Highlights so far:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">My brother Scott joined us for a week which was great fun to catch up.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Joining the Greeks in their Easter services. More like a orderly scrum at times, these services were attended by hundreds. At midnight on Easter Saturday we ended up shut inside a church while fire crackers went mad outside.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The island of </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-family:georgia;">Lesvos</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. Low key on tourism; its a big island of dramatic mountains currently coated in green grass, pungent wildflowers and endless ancient olive trees.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I tell you, Greeks can talk! We stayed in the main town of </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-family:georgia;">Mytilene</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> for 24 hours and marvelled at hundreds of fashionable young things sitting in the funky cafes ALL DAY.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The sun on your face all day without (badly) burning.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Litres and litres of (kinda weak) red wine.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Lots of sleep.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Not being able to tear ourselves away from picture-perfect </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-family:georgia;">Molyvos</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> in the north of </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-family:georgia;">Lesvos</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. It is everything you dream of in a Greek village – stone houses on top of each other up the steep cobbled streets, topped by an old fort, pretty painted shutters, cute boats in the stone harbour, plenty of healthy stray dogs and cats to play with, stunning views over the glassy Aegean and no foreign tourist crowds. The town ran out of food though as the Greeks on Easter holidays ate it all up. We drank Ouzo in a </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style="font-family:georgia;">café</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> with the old boys and went bush bashing through the terraced olive groves which was fun; Mick nearly stood on a black snake.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RjdbEnQ_K4I/AAAAAAAAAXw/kfphDNbLpRE/s400/014.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 232px; height: 309px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_-oaNXVs9JQ8/RjdbEnQ_K4I/AAAAAAAAAXw/kfphDNbLpRE/s400/014.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" >Mick, Ouzo and a pretty spot in Molyvos</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Off the track in the South. Yesterday we stayed in an almost deserted village on a pretty pebble beach after twisting and turning on the wrong dirt road through crazy mountains. We met a mad old German, Claus (of course), who took us for a 4 x 4 drive up tracks to an impossibly high, tiny church while entertaining us with tales of what the commanding rock outcrops speak to him. He showed as much joy at the changing natural "theatres" as we climbed higher and higher as I imagine he did when first arriving here 15 years ago.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Now, we are back with the kids in the cafes waiting for a midnight ferry further North.</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="font-family:georgia;"></span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-43022873890657251202005-10-30T19:49:00.001+11:002009-07-09T22:07:44.124+10:00News<span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">I'll get straight to my news, Mick and I are engaged! He completely surprised me, pulling the perfect ring from his pocket while </span><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1245055668_0" >walking down the street</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, after dinner. While gasping for breath the first thing I managed was, "you dag!".</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We have been in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-family:georgia;">QLD</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> for my </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1245055668_1" >30<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> birthday</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> which turned into a great celebration, happy parents and excitement all round. Mick handled the endless introductions marvelously.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I hope you are all well</span>.Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-10386455578905852402005-06-08T20:51:00.001+10:002009-07-12T19:39:01.305+10:00Lightening across Laos<span style="font-family:georgia;">Mick and I have just finished three weeks in </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243853339_0" >Laos</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. Alas, it is the end of our adventures for a while so this is the last rambling you’ll have from me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Its been great traveling with Mick, he is fun and handy. Not only was he wearing his undies on the outside one day in </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243853339_1" >Cambodia</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> when he stopped boys from stealing our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">day pack</span> out of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">tuk</span></span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">tuk</span></span> we were traveling in (the bag didn't survive though - ripped in half) he has also been my consummate <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">chauffeur</span> around the remote areas of the south of Laos. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The highlight has been when we got off the track and took to the jungles of the </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243853339_2" ><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Bolaven</span></span> Plateau </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">doubling on a tiny motorbike (think <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Vespa</span></span>) with Mick driving. We gave the local hill tribal people plenty to laugh at: two giant <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Falang</span></span> (foreigners) on one struggling little bike, egg shell-shaped helmets and sometimes coming to undignified halts. We whizzed past squealing kids springing into water holes in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">nuddy</span></span>, traditional basic thatched huts with satellite dishes attached, women hand pummeling rice, dense jungle and stunning views up at the plateau. The area is famous for its <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Arabica</span></span> coffee. It must </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">be good because I, being a dedicated non-drinker, ended up guzzling plenty of it. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOzfye1Uc6vg-X4fBEPYTv8SpDI3AkpUNndSbDECc-Q2n0ah9RBGX_dZS0n-UIMAZox9VYshBOjAUs2TUYx0ebHyvzAyDXdGtwhIbR7fTWv09Vq85QN8_hyphenhyphenV4iyQAdhv8M-bJL3uyEeuI/s400/DSCN3709.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 336px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOzfye1Uc6vg-X4fBEPYTv8SpDI3AkpUNndSbDECc-Q2n0ah9RBGX_dZS0n-UIMAZox9VYshBOjAUs2TUYx0ebHyvzAyDXdGtwhIbR7fTWv09Vq85QN8_hyphenhyphenV4iyQAdhv8M-bJL3uyEeuI/s400/DSCN3709.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >Mick and our poor little bike</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We bought tribal textiles and stayed in a haunted hotel in a tiny town. It was a case <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Scooby</span></span>-Do might investigate. We had howling dogs, slamming shutters and someone banging to get in the hotel and then trying our door in the dead of night. Apparently it is two Malaysian tourists who died in the river coming back for their luggage. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">At this point we were hooked and continued further into the remote South East. People <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">gaped</span></span> open-mouthed even more at the sight of us, and only the quickest kids screamed out "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">sabady</span></span>" (hello) before we disappeared. With only one change of clothes each I did lots of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">hand washing</span>. Our visit here was perfect timing. We got the benefit of a sparkling new road (that has opened a new boarder to </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243853339_3" style="font-family:georgia;">Vietnam</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">) but shared it with no tourists, yet. There was more buffalo, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">chooks</span></span>, dogs and goats than traffic. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">The massive</span> hotel in bustling <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Attapeu</span></span> we stayed in was empty, but brimming with potential as the manager gleefully set up his tour desk in anticipation of the tourists that will use the new route. It will lose its charm, but that’s progress. We ate grilled goats liver with Beer Lao and crashed when everyone else did at </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243853339_4" >9pm</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Mick skillfully got us 20 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">kms</span></span> along a boggy dirt road to the Ho Chi Min trail where he climbed <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">on top</span> of the Soviet missile still sitting there in its launcher. He rapidly howled off it again as a wasp took a chunk out of him.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPev-RPVcWt8Wjw5uOgcVSwsoFvImOsWSU5-EcwUrTDxphvO9NfDZoyhuApVsh9DGeInGG_D-RmfQHgaXEDy6yvmTNIzAJLEIu4_vJOydeyqAldm9kDFnZdDgfCVRwfcQhR3s3GKsEM1A/s400/DSCN3690.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 346px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPev-RPVcWt8Wjw5uOgcVSwsoFvImOsWSU5-EcwUrTDxphvO9NfDZoyhuApVsh9DGeInGG_D-RmfQHgaXEDy6yvmTNIzAJLEIu4_vJOydeyqAldm9kDFnZdDgfCVRwfcQhR3s3GKsEM1A/s400/DSCN3690.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >The split second before Mick bolted off the rocket with a howl of pain</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />There is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">UXO</span></span> (unexploded ordinance) absolutely everywhere, killing plenty of farmers every year. We dropped in on LAO <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">UXO</span></span> (</span>the National Clearance Agengy of Laos) <em></em><span style="font-family:georgia;">to look at their collection of retrieved stuff. The poor girl who spoke a bit of English just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">couldn</span></span>’t understand we had just </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">come to take photos.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Waterfalls were another highlight of the area. Mick climbed up behind them and came back with sore fingers from clutching to ledges as he nearly got washed away. Some places had gorgeous resort accommodation, at only $16 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">USD</span></span> but they felt luxurious.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCFSw6j95tWnvOhjPBcO9GxMJIcHqrqJPhU7OqzstFgu9Ug2E_nLp15y6jQL3XvI8wFzJWyHCuU_h04mFe3yFk7izzt999YODeLWjqFcsSc5z9jDA3_Kn6nXjtv85GRLp6AaE63BjKFM/s512/DSCN3663.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 334px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCFSw6j95tWnvOhjPBcO9GxMJIcHqrqJPhU7OqzstFgu9Ug2E_nLp15y6jQL3XvI8wFzJWyHCuU_h04mFe3yFk7izzt999YODeLWjqFcsSc5z9jDA3_Kn6nXjtv85GRLp6AaE63BjKFM/s512/DSCN3663.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" >Mick behind a thundering waterfall</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">At all times during our stay in Laos spectacular storms have brewed. Clouds so dense and dark it felt we could disappear in them. The sky is always flashing. We got caught in downpours while on pushbikes one day, and watched kids go nuts and dance. Lightening claps have gone off like bombs over our heads in the middle of the night. Exhilarating.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We got back without a scratch but nearly killed the bike. I thought the engine was going to blow and take our ankles with it. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We finally headed North to the capital where we dined on </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243853339_5" style="font-family:georgia;">French cuisine</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> that we never could afford at home. Then we moved onto </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243853339_6" ><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Luang</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Prabang</span></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, a tranquil town of 100 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">wats</span></span> where the better-off-in-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Ibiza</span> backpacker scene was in full swing. The north looks stunning, we have to come back sometime. Now, we must drag our kilos of purchases home and start saving for the next trip!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Love</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Suze</span></span></span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-67711276421259155692005-05-26T20:09:00.001+10:002009-07-13T16:35:26.191+10:00Cambodia - Pol Pot Pol Pot Pol Pot<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">I last wrote half way through </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243850918_0" style="font-family:georgia;">Cuba</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, where I was off on my own for two weeks. I found beautiful colonial towns; determined methods to shake the blokes of my back (I would sit on a bench half in the sun so they would wilt within minutes of sitting with me); ate like the locals and thus started to develop a bum like the them; people watched for hours in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">fascination</span> of their intermingled lives but never really got the "Cuban" experience I hoped for. So if you go, learn Spanish so you can talk to people other than those wanting you to buy them a drink, and take someone with you, preferable of the opposite sex. It isn't a great place to be solo, on the wallet and the ears. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Now I am in </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243850918_1" style="font-family:georgia;">South East Asia</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. The bum and just about every fluid in me has melted off in the</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">suffocating</span> humidity. I am with Mick, my boyfriend, and we just finished two weeks in Cambodia. I am afraid he might drown in his sweat one day.</span><br /><br /><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243850918_2" >Cambodia</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. Some things where what I expected, some not.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Expected:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The people are remarkable. I would look at anyone old enough to have lived through the seventies, and not be able to comprehend the horror they must have seen. And they still have smiles firmly fixed. We have learnt <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">a lot</span> about the carnage of various wars, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">particular</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ly</span> the genocide of the </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243850918_3" >Khmer Rouge</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, and have seen torture chambers that evil dreamt up. But, as a whole </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243850918_4" style="font-family:georgia;">Cambodians</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> are polite, always cheerful, smiling and charming. No one talks about the horrors; they want to move on.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Unexpected:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Hordes of tourist touts descended on us at certain points. When I had three young guys inches from my face shouting the benefits of their hotels in only a very small village, I realised Cambodia is far from the "emerging" travel spot I naively imagined. It is so well trodden it is a highway. This was especially evident one night, 3am, when the paper thin <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">fibro</span></span> wall to our left started vibrating from an argument in some pommy accent, while the wall to the right started shaking from a</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">couple banging away so violently our bed shook with them. We have avoided backpacker ghettos since.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Expected:</span><br /><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243850918_5" >Angkor Wat</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> was magic. We splashed out on a guide for two days. He was worth his weight in gold for what he taught us about the intricate stories carved into the sandstone. We saw temples being strangled by trees, flaming saffron monks <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">flitting</span> amongst the grey stones, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">and exquisitely</span> carved dancing women with jewels in their hair and voluptuous chests. It is as good as you think </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">it would be. </span><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0yfccnzJ8wYQjI1IdKS6VXCBb_iun6sd7an-wl0c_rmVZr6PxBalpjdyCH1rG20VoDspT4IN2n2TMzbfH_p73xws1o2k4unHZi2op3LekyVo26fhDIgtig3Rrb9hsd1kYy8ZqP91wR0/s400/DSCN2896.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 257px; height: 343px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0yfccnzJ8wYQjI1IdKS6VXCBb_iun6sd7an-wl0c_rmVZr6PxBalpjdyCH1rG20VoDspT4IN2n2TMzbfH_p73xws1o2k4unHZi2op3LekyVo26fhDIgtig3Rrb9hsd1kYy8ZqP91wR0/s400/DSCN2896.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >Mick with our charming guide at one of the ruins of Angkor Wat</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Unexpected:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We spent <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">a lot</span> more money than I have ever thought I would in a third world country. I have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">truly</span> moved up from arse-hanging-out-of-my-shorts traveller to someone who runs into an airport and pays a premium to jump on the first plane, gets guides in most areas to give us insights into their culture and to pretend to be our friend, buys silks worth a </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">local's yearly wage, while at the same time still insisting on talking down the room for the night from $5 to $4 and feeling proud of it. But, I think moving up the budget rung is worth it in Cambodia, it isn't as cheap as its neighbouring countries, and we have got <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">a lot</span> more out of our time and the experience by spending that bit more. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Expected:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">There was one area that lived up to the remote jungle and tribes I had envisioned: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ratanakiri</span></span> in the North East. We hung around at a twisted, collapsed bridge while waiting for our car to be floated across the river on a raft. <br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCEJtyHJXvNdZyi2cR1FQugV0aFgFpQl4-KfL7qnLsIQB-3vhl07CDKGScQfIrF6CCEMFA2s2ZNqymJg1n1q3GtzEkCVw-4JYK_b80hhao8YnfrLFPdnrzRoX1_C8fMt6R8tVOqaQBmek/s512/DSCN3065.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCEJtyHJXvNdZyi2cR1FQugV0aFgFpQl4-KfL7qnLsIQB-3vhl07CDKGScQfIrF6CCEMFA2s2ZNqymJg1n1q3GtzEkCVw-4JYK_b80hhao8YnfrLFPdnrzRoX1_C8fMt6R8tVOqaQBmek/s512/DSCN3065.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" >An enterprising ferry business that popped up overnight as the bridge in the background completely collapsed.</span></span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />The road in was like a rally track. We had an entire </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243850918_6" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">eco</span></span> lodge</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> to ourselves; flies and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">geckos</span> kept us entertained at night. We swam in a crater lake surrounded by lush jungle. We were guided through an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">indigenous</span> tribe's farms and homes</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">where they still live quite traditionally. We rode an elephant. Only when I was three metres up on his back did it cross my mind he might have a mind of his own. Just like a horse he didn't want to go, constantly stopped to pull down trees, and sped up when he knew he was on the home stretch.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Unexpected:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We crossed from Cambodia into </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243850918_7" >Laos</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> in the bush. Two very basic little huts, each a </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1243850918_8" style="font-family:georgia;">one-man-band</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> without uniforms. No problems. No attitude. They were the nicest immigration guys I've met in a while. Hang on, maybe that should have been expected.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We are in Laos now, it is going great, but I will take up your time about that later.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"></span></span></span></span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-82663041331254340272005-04-08T19:16:00.001+10:002009-07-13T16:51:46.704+10:00Cuba - Baby got Back<span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">In case you didn't know, I've been kicking around </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231323376_0" >Cuba</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> with a friend, Trude, for two weeks. We've sat on icing sugar white beaches, studded with palms. Swam in liquid crystal water. Eaten like royalty in private homes stuck in 1950's time traps. Rum and music are everything in the evening; one night we felt like we were in a vintage movie as we cruised in an antique Chevy, hosted by two young Cuban male models.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Right, now that you have called me B...!....T....C....H at least once I have got that out of the road and can fill you in on what little I understand of Cuba.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">1. </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231323376_1" style="font-family:georgia;">MC Hammer</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> is not the tune I expected to have in my head but the bums of cartoon proportions on the women have me gaping. Fair enough, many are of African descent, but it must be difficult getting through doors.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">2. The women can wear anything they like as long as it is skin tight and tacky. Combined with point one, imagine white bike shorts stretched to be see-through, teamed with a rolls of fat escaping a halter top. Never again will I scoff at teenage Australian chicks sporting their </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231323376_2" style="font-family:georgia;">muffin tops</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. They are amateurs compared to the Cubans. (For a definition on muffin</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">top - email me later)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">3. Communism means food is a limited resource. Rationed and too expensive, food that is affordable to people seems to be mostly oily pizza, anything fried and anything pastry. Hence, the rolls on parade. Atkins would have a heart attack.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNl_G_l2IB2B0yr75Ovy5zr77vunJ5oje65C8OkhLdXYMp9Oh31OV-xi-AzIpRCKjpDToM3vopQm2v_E2VpiCaqtfZbCOYEEjbzQy80Ip4bDISU7_KgasyaZ3UA2BJqv-QXO3D6VE6uWs/s512/IMG_0520.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 322px; height: 241px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNl_G_l2IB2B0yr75Ovy5zr77vunJ5oje65C8OkhLdXYMp9Oh31OV-xi-AzIpRCKjpDToM3vopQm2v_E2VpiCaqtfZbCOYEEjbzQy80Ip4bDISU7_KgasyaZ3UA2BJqv-QXO3D6VE6uWs/s512/IMG_0520.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >A popular meal: something like pizza that needed the oil squeezed out of it before eating</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">4. In stark contrast, we eat like Queens in the private homes licenced to have tourists stay.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">5. Point 4 makes it hard to understand how everyone else lives. Self-righteous tourists declare they have nothing. A taxi driver told me how bad the West's obsession with money is. Everyone is educated. The arts are ubiquitous. Plenty of young men hang on corners with nothing to do but provoke the girls (and me) to want to hit them. I enjoy a life free from visual advertising pollution, to be replaced by endless political slogans on billboards and buildings. They </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">queue </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">for banks and buckets of water, but the greatest </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">queue </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">of all is for ice-cream. Yesterday I saw three girls scoffing huge cones, three each!</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> They love it.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyX8yxyufceNBue4cHbTPIA1SnCN0HIh2sCMuHJmJJ3g7R2WlezfDRjya1z-99S5uNabu9Yowh_RwzBXVgIJ8t435AO-1yKpbjLHb89sDtNBKdVEQMvo0FbHuFjyg98sYh6kNxRvnS0rs/s512/IMG_0472.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 377px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyX8yxyufceNBue4cHbTPIA1SnCN0HIh2sCMuHJmJJ3g7R2WlezfDRjya1z-99S5uNabu9Yowh_RwzBXVgIJ8t435AO-1yKpbjLHb89sDtNBKdVEQMvo0FbHuFjyg98sYh6kNxRvnS0rs/s512/IMG_0472.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">One of the many political billboards featuring Che: a man without blemish and without fear. Photo courtesy of Trude.<br /></span></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">In summary, I know nothing: contradictions everywhere. It feels as if understanding the culture is kept behind a veneer labelled TOURISM that I can't see behind, especially without Spanish.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I am on my own now for 12 days and already today three people have wanted to be my friend (and my brother's special friend apparently - look out Scotty one sexy chick has your address). But, I don't know how far to trust people; tourism has meant hassle in some places. So, I am trying to keep away from the tourist hot spots, and I hope my next report will have more tales of mayhem, missing from the first two weeks.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Anyhoo, I'm off to sit in park to work on the art of doing nothing, and learn how to say "I and my brothers are married".</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-56733587446559582072003-11-16T20:52:00.002+11:002009-07-19T17:42:29.098+10:00Turning pale in the Baltic winter<span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">I hope all is well with all of you in your corners of</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">the world. For me, I have finally come full circle. I </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">passed through the refugee camp that is London</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Standsted Airport and am revelling in the land of </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">natively spoken English and where I can buy vegemite.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">I spent the last three weeks in t</span><a id="saveButton" class="cssButton" href="javascript:void(0)" target="" onclick="if (this.className.indexOf("ubtn-disabled") == -1) {var e = document['stuffform'].saveDraft;(e.length) ? e[0].click() : e.click(); if (window.event) window.event.cancelBubble = true; return false;}"></a><span style="font-family:georgia;">he Baltic republics,</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">where things were extremely civilized. No crazy</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">grannies attacking me, no cops with guns shaking me</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">awake at </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321933_0" >2am</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, and definately no millionaires</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">kidnapping me.<br /><br />They do, however, have some</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">entertaining languages.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">In </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321933_1" >Estonia</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> the national museum is called the "Kik in d</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Kok" and the bus station is the "Busijaam". I entered</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Estonia and marvelled for days how free I felt not</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">constantly watched or in fear of the cops. I gapped</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">open-mouthed at all the modern contraptions, the</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">sparkling clean toilets, and total embrace of </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321933_2" style="font-family:georgia;">Europe</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. I w</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">ent clubbing twice and listened to the bloke</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">travellers crap on about the beautiful girls. </span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">In Latvia and "i" goes on the end of everything. Like</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">"Britneyi Speari". Hum...sounds familiar.<br /><br />I moved onto Latvia. Riga is a</span> <span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321933_3" >beautiful city</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> and with a massive dump down of snow it</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">was magical. But I was getting tired of being a total</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">tourist tied to the cities, and listening to the</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">blokes crap on about the beautiful girls. </span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">So, me and three others divised a plan of escape. We</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">hired a car and drove around </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321933_4" >Latvia</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> and </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321933_5" >Lithuania</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> for</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">seven days; two very country Aussie boys who inflicted me</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">and the groovy yank from </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321933_6" style="font-family:georgia;">Boston</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> with the </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321933_7" style="font-family:georgia;">Dixie Chicks</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">and "A Whole Lot of Country" CD compilation. We ran</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">up and down gorgeous, freezing, endless beaches on a</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">futile hunt for amber. Visited a defunct nuclear</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">missile base, once extremely top secret where once missiles</span> were <span style="font-family:georgia;">ready to be launched at </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321933_8" style="font-family:georgia;">Western Europe</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> at the push of</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">a button.</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> </span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRZfKNYEgqzrWzRu_x4a8uZ2dXHN8WvXB4Ra0odBJ-hRioO4sqM9qMeLOzJRywaXKCZAp-Iu5ESDY6wd2oaKJ6S55gmwta1pVaoZKulh3LlW6IZRW5IRIcJaBkyU4k3Jr-VIc4P3mB4js/s400/F1060028.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRZfKNYEgqzrWzRu_x4a8uZ2dXHN8WvXB4Ra0odBJ-hRioO4sqM9qMeLOzJRywaXKCZAp-Iu5ESDY6wd2oaKJ6S55gmwta1pVaoZKulh3LlW6IZRW5IRIcJaBkyU4k3Jr-VIc4P3mB4js/s400/F1060028.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Hunting for Amber on a Latvian beach</span></span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />In Lithuania the main supermarket chain is the "iki"</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">and to say thankyou, you say "ah chu". I visited the</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">old KGB headquarters where locals were tortured for</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">any reason. This was the third museum to the</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">occupation, even described as genocide, that the Soviets</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">inflicted on the region. Very graphic stories, absolute misery. I</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">have learnt a lot on this entire trip of the suffering</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">humans can cause their fellow man; I visited mass graves</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">and places with long histories of bloodshed. I understand that</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">nothing is impossible.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />I was getting really tired of only meeting other</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">travellers, and listening to the blokes crap on about</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">the beautiful girls reached its crescendo here. By</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">this stage, the girl travellers were in awe of how</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">spectacularly ugly the local men where. How the hell</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">did the mothers spawn the same breed? I moved out of</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">hostels for good. The very lovely Hannah, a mate of a</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">mate (thanks again Catrina!), took me in and I really</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">enjoyed my trip's last days. I wandering the Russian</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">market and said goodbye to what now felt familiar.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />The </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321933_9" style="font-family:georgia;">Baltics</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> were lovely, but hardly a secret anymore</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">and I feel I didn't get to know life there. I was</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">initial glad to escape the mayhem of the Russians, but</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">before long, it felt all too easy. I missed the</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">mayhem, and I think I might even miss the Russians.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />So, I am here in Blighty now, excited to be catching up</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">with mates and my brother, and people who have known</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">me longer than a week! </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Not much of a clue what I am doing next, I'll keep you</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">posted.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsymPWLoBv20gsLEQs83yvTxPb9UgsldGhYrnPU8ujL_YHkKhM7_rFm_eI0OALVgXc-lz2AOYoTfpvfGlARYkKwB3SXfYvqrziPR6agw1a4MDhhqAO_rWf8LPpzKmC8PUgoQrqMCn-oA/s576/F1020020.JPG"><br /></a>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-816365128224918892003-10-19T18:40:00.001+10:002009-07-15T22:55:49.924+10:00Oh....Those Russians<span style="font-family:georgia;">I hope you are all well and my updates aren't getting</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">too long for you. I can't help it! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The time has come to leave </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321182_0" style="font-family:georgia;">Russia</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> and give you all a </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">wrap up on it. It has been a ride, I've felt like I </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">have gotten to know </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321182_1" >Russians</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">: lived like a Russian</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">(on top of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">each other</span>), eaten like a Russian (</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">you cook at home), looked like a Russian (covered</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">head to toe in leather), mostly only hung around with </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Russians, and, of course, drunk like a Russian. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The bulk of this experience is due to extreme good </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">luck and a man called Boris. Boris, an enigma of a </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">man in his middle age, and his young wife and little </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">boy offered me a ride to Volgograd. Two weeks later I </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">said goodbye to them. I could write an essay about </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Boris' numerous business dealings, complicated family </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">intrigues and commanding personality. He says he was</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">one of Russia's first millionaires. But, perhaps an </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">overview will be to describe all the times I woke up</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">with a "where the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">phark</span> am I?" thanks to Boris.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4u5SSBO1JzJ73wdu2tWvwW4vYZlF5XhtR-mEE-_a3z7iyhyphenhyphentmo6rea_tIwepeOSLwC-tr0SNhgrRNhm-m5JmHmCXgafB6bJwUaDsjgyjrIhXeUVWHSND-EcLrZhRVzfVBTKdzrnKn_-U/s576/F1070023.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 357px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4u5SSBO1JzJ73wdu2tWvwW4vYZlF5XhtR-mEE-_a3z7iyhyphenhyphentmo6rea_tIwepeOSLwC-tr0SNhgrRNhm-m5JmHmCXgafB6bJwUaDsjgyjrIhXeUVWHSND-EcLrZhRVzfVBTKdzrnKn_-U/s576/F1070023.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >Boris, his son George and me at a lunch stop at the Volgo River on our way to Moscow</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">In </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321182_2" >Volgograd</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, the site of 3 million deaths from one of </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">the worlds bloodiest battles marked by a 72 metre </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">statue of mother Russia, we stayed with some family. I </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">was welcomed in, stuffed full of food and poisoned </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">with vodka then passed out (tad embarrassing). I woke up </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">on a mattress on the floor and got lost trying to get out of the </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">room.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">One thousand <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">kms</span> later, I spent the night in Boris's </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">tiny apartment (even though he is a millionaire, he </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">doesn't like to spend it on showy things - he says) on the </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">outskirts of </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321182_3" >Moscow</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> where I found two more kids, and </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">discovered I had taken the girl's bed when I awoke to </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">her trying to rest half of her on a corner of it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I woke up the next morning in my own apartment. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Without discussion I was taken to Boris's Moscow </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">apartment and given it for as long as I wanted. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Wooooo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">hooooo</span>. It was a communal flat, a hang over from </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">the Soviet days where four rooms share a bathroom and</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">kitchen. I lived for about 10 days with the intrigues </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">of my flatmates who have been here for a long time I</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">think. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Boris tells you what you are doing. He took me on two </span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">whirlwind</span> tours of the magical Golden Ring, the </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">heartland of Russia dotted with golden domed churches</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">monasteries</span>. On both trips I woke up under a vodka </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">cloud in a dump of a Soviet-era hotel. The second stay</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">was in some town he had business dealings but </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">foreigners were not supposed to be. I forgot to keep</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">my mouth shut while on the street after the second </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">bottle.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">In both Moscow and St <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Petersburg</span> I have seen world</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">best art galleries, observed the tourist </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">hordes in the Hermitage that made it feel like a metro</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">station, vulgar displays of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">wealth</span> in the palaces, </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">marvelled at the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">irresistible</span> beauty of St <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Petersburg</span></span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">and at the jigsaw car parking in Moscow. The colourful autumn </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">leaves all over the country are just stunning. I went</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">to the ballet in Moscow and St <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Petersburg</span> and it was </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">absolutely magic. My Russian friend (another new one)</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Nadia took me clubbing in Moscow where everyone danced</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">on the tables and they had a strip show. I went clubbing </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">here in St <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Petersburg</span> and made new Russian friends</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">where we seemed to hang out at the 24 hour bottle shop </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">longer than in the club.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vIKuarXWyaeU0Q0-BTHiXc8LKdICilYXJb_ZGmLijVvfXBzSYU-sGID6icTrvS8Aiqo5yKGMGQsEbtmb_AgJAnUd60wGq7Ywes99R7IZ9hZD_KZN3tU9zE-cIPIRsWKQS1SWuk8uvqQ/s400/F1050026.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 224px; height: 335px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vIKuarXWyaeU0Q0-BTHiXc8LKdICilYXJb_ZGmLijVvfXBzSYU-sGID6icTrvS8Aiqo5yKGMGQsEbtmb_AgJAnUd60wGq7Ywes99R7IZ9hZD_KZN3tU9zE-cIPIRsWKQS1SWuk8uvqQ/s400/F1050026.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" >My Russian look that got me into the Catherine Palace (behind) at the Russian price!</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Thus, I have enjoyed finding breaks in all the </span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">stereotypes</span> of Russians, even though they can be true too. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">They do get around sour faced and provide infamously</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">bad service; but I have experienced extreme </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">hospitality and generosity. The girls are still </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">vain; but I have made down-to-earth friends who also </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">scorn other's sledgehammer approach to sexuality. The</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">men, however, are all short. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">But, the most common catch cry out of me has been "For </span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">pharks</span> sake!" for quite sometime now and I am looking </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">forward to (hopefully) losing it. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I am now going to </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231321182_4" >Estonia</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, a country that has no visa </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">and an alphabet that doesn't look like hieroglyphs. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">NO VISA! After the king daddies of visa pain, this</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">feels like an impossible dream come true. I love the </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">place already. All you heading into summer think of</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">me as I head somewhere rather....well...Baltic!</span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-36074487075264768132003-09-28T19:21:00.001+10:002009-07-15T22:35:49.775+10:00Kazakhstan - Riding the Iron Bazaar<span style="font-family:georgia;">I trust all is well in your sections of the world. I</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">felt the need to tell you all what the last 3 weeks</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">have been about, by bursting into song.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >"You can check out any time you like, but you can </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >never leave"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">That was Almaty, the big smoke of </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231237324_0" style="font-family:georgia;">Central <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Asia</span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">: some </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">kind of vortex that had me attached with a rubber </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">band. Every time I tried to get out of the city it </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">snapped me back in. I gave up trying to leave </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">after...cue music....</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >"Tragedy! When the feelings strong and you can't go</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >on"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">All the trains were booked and I had to wait five more </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">days and thus had no time to stop on the way to </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231237324_1" >Russia</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. This clanged very loudly with my fear of </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">missing out on something. Then again, there isn't </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">much in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-family:georgia;">Kazakhstan</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> that I haven't already seen </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">in the region. The desolation of the </span><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231237324_2" >Aral Sea disaster</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, and poverty from ruined Soviet plans. Something</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">different would have been going to where the Soviets </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">deemed the country "uninhabited" and used it for</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">nuclear tests. Hum, I might not have missed much.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">But, back to Almaty. I arrived feeling like a country </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-family:georgia;">bumpkin</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> lost in the concrete jungle. I marvelled at </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">the western food and incredible displays of wealth </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">paraded by some. From </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231237324_3" style="font-family:georgia;">Gucci</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> to </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231237324_4" style="font-family:georgia;">BMW Z3</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, it was all </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">there. Moreover, it demonstrated the huge gulf </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">between the rich and still very poor. Stories of </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">government and police corruption were astonishing. I</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">hung out with expats and made a local friend.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The women were the most consistent wonder though. They</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">can wear whatever they like, as long as it is skin </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">tight, high heeled and caked in makeup. This was</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">evident in the other </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="font-family:georgia;">Russified</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style="font-family:georgia;">stans</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, but reached a </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="font-family:georgia;">crescendo</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> here. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> I, the Amazon </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" style="font-family:georgia;">grot</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, did not fit in with them.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> I toyed with the idea of trying to. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Step 1: Handbag. Easy, the Central </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" style="font-family:georgia;">Asian</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> briefcase is</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">a blue plastic bag with, inexplicably "A & G </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" style="font-family:georgia;">Amgen</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">, </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Made in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" style="font-family:georgia;">Italy</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">" on it. I have one, 30 cents. No </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">worries. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Step 2: </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231237324_5" style="font-family:georgia;">High Heels</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. From 12 year </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" style="font-family:georgia;">olds</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> to grannies, </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">everyone is in them. But, I decided that even the drag </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">queens would not have the ankle hobbling spikes in my </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">size. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Step 3: Tight pants. I would get an ankle in where </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">their thighs go. The skirts wouldn't cover my bum. Not an option really.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Step 4: Tight tops. This I could easily do, it wouldn't</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">matter if it didn't fit.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">So, that would give me a plastic bag and a booby top. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Hum, I don't think you can match up to the locals</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" style="font-family:georgia;">teva</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" style="font-family:georgia;">sandals</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Gave up. But, I did think ahead. I bought the </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">heaviest, warmest, most funky sheepskin coat with </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">enough fluff to look the part in </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231237324_6" >Moscow</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The climax of my </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" style="font-family:georgia;">dagginess</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> was trying to attend the </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Opera. They very nearly didn't let us in we were so </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">messy. My companion Charles, being Canadian and thus a </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">perpetual apology, and I felt our </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" style="font-family:georgia;">embarrassment</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> was </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">almost tangible. We skulked to our seats and refused </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">to move until everyone left. It was good though, a </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" style="font-family:georgia;">Kazakh </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">opera in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" style="font-family:georgia;">Kazakh</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> language, a gripping love tradegy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">One very cool thing we did around Almaty was...cue </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">music......</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >"Flash, </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" >arrr</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" > </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" >arrrrrrr</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >, he's one of us"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">A mad, defunct astronomical observatory is in the </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">beautiful mountains outside Almaty. It looked like a </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">ruined set from a 80's </span><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;font-family:georgia;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231237324_7" >Flash Gordon</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">: death rays </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">and what looked like space junk lying around, odd </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">scientists ghosting between buildings, cows grazing.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We were disappointed not to use the one telescope that </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">worked to see Mars, it was too cloudy. I walked out </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">in the morning to light snow that added an eerie feel to </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">the place. I loved it.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYvCPc8uP5eexEhKg4Oy8b15JkROakKkdDwR5FaVcfP8nBznvyx97C7ba3MnAKmam5zf7yrQpErzwpp3lqMT-xxQBImaBHacEU8EFPiqwyPM-aVR0o_8-UOYs6H2ypKCSlzAS0FS_VRGA/s400/F1040023.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 327px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYvCPc8uP5eexEhKg4Oy8b15JkROakKkdDwR5FaVcfP8nBznvyx97C7ba3MnAKmam5zf7yrQpErzwpp3lqMT-xxQBImaBHacEU8EFPiqwyPM-aVR0o_8-UOYs6H2ypKCSlzAS0FS_VRGA/s400/F1040023.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >Me on some fun junk</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >"There's a slow, slow train </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" >comin</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >' up around the bend"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">So, I saw </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" style="font-family:georgia;">Kazakhstan</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> from a train. For three days and three </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">nights, this moving </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" style="font-family:georgia;">bazaar</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> provided views </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" style="font-family:georgia;">of utterly</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> endless steppe. The clear sky banged </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">into the horizon in a precise line. Two-humped camels </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">grazed as we passed. The numerous stops at tiny villages caused </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">atom bombs of activity as people on the train sold </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">goods to the villagers. I went first class, </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">mostly because no other tickets were left, </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">but it was very comfy and still cheap.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8D6dFikuOiDWQbkFv9Znm3u0BeXK5PNqzcBQI_gzRdsMoc3BhcA-TP-c1B4vVnEBoWORjhpMjkr4RLmErXWK3J9mmlbQG3neXyRKeEy_OQRsmF750Zw6fXoVz2sMuXiBE_iE9p35xQc/s400/F1070015.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 325px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8D6dFikuOiDWQbkFv9Znm3u0BeXK5PNqzcBQI_gzRdsMoc3BhcA-TP-c1B4vVnEBoWORjhpMjkr4RLmErXWK3J9mmlbQG3neXyRKeEy_OQRsmF750Zw6fXoVz2sMuXiBE_iE9p35xQc/s400/F1070015.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" >Looking down the train platform at the instant market the train brought to the village</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">So, I left Central Asia. The best thing about my trip </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">in the region was it was almost an entire surprise. I</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">had almost no </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26" style="font-family:georgia;">pre</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">-conceptions of what would be there</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">and what it would be like. I wonder if I will get </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">that feeling again; travelling an entire region that</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">was a blank blob that has now been so richly coloured </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">in. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">But, onto Russia! It feels logical being here, like </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">getting to the horse's mouth. I entered Russia in the </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">most </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27" style="font-family:georgia;">obscure</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> way I could think of. I am in Astrakhan in</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28" style="font-family:georgia;">Volga</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> Region. Overnight I stepped from </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231237324_8" style="font-family:georgia;">Asia</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> to </span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1231237324_9" style="font-family:georgia;">Europe</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. The buildings are lovely, but run down. The </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">desolate steppe has been replaced by the lush </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29" style="font-family:georgia;">Volga </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">River. I have perversely made it hard on myself by</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">having no guide book here. A very thin armour of bad </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30" style="font-family:georgia;">Russian</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> is all I have. But it causes me to talk to</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">people, ask their help, and I have met some lovely </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">ones so far. Except for the old dragons behind hotel </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">counters, they can go to hell with the taxi drivers.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">There are tourists here, all </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31" style="font-family:georgia;">Russian</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">. I haven't</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">talked to anyone at length in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32" style="font-family:georgia;">English</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> for six days. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Besides Charles, there hasn't been any others </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">travellers for 3 weeks. It is a challenge, but this</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">is what I wanted. It is rewarding.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Enough crap from me, I hope all is well, tell me all, </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">as you can might guess, I need a little more</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">conversation!</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33" style="font-family:georgia;"></span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-15403194626057105302003-09-09T11:35:00.007+10:002009-07-15T22:19:23.697+10:00Kyrgyzstan - Disaster has struck<p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I have run out of Vegemite! </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">My last update let you in on the challenges one sometimes faces in Central Asia. I will make up for that with gushy, flowery words....I love Kyrgyzstan! </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">It is an exceptionally beautiful country, covered entirely in mountain ranges that always change: naked brooding rock, powerful folds in the Earth, golden velvet coverings, alpine trees, many glaciers sparkling and varying sizes of snow caps. I could describe my time here as a Lake Tour and, of course, mayhem is never far away either.</span></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;">Lake Issy-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kul</span></span></strong></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Oh god, I thought I was in heaven when I walked into a village on this gigantic lake, stayed in the home of a lovely middle-aged couple who made me feel as safe as if I was staying with my grandparents (she was a food Nazi, "eat, eat, eat, Suzanne!" ) and wandered down to the beach.<br /><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUC-YU4I-uKDyBTBTEC8EF3t6qrV8fq28zjCKr-y4xARVPxonvU-Jhm2D8tvYtuuM4jDtf249lGJrJ0DjyJdePucdD99Ea8re83X22pHYkFtucuFMQ21NC-dwLWWwkcjWRXbvX-M78sY/s576/F1030013.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 366px; height: 245px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUC-YU4I-uKDyBTBTEC8EF3t6qrV8fq28zjCKr-y4xARVPxonvU-Jhm2D8tvYtuuM4jDtf249lGJrJ0DjyJdePucdD99Ea8re83X22pHYkFtucuFMQ21NC-dwLWWwkcjWRXbvX-M78sY/s576/F1030013.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >My lovely hosts who welcomed me in when I showed up on their doorstep</span></span><br /></div><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I found an entire cove to myself, dramatic mountains behind me, the fresh water lapping in front and the snow caps of the colossal mountains on the other side mingling with the clouds. I proceeding to get really burnt at this altitude, nearly run over by a guy hurling out of nowhere over my beach on his horse, and joined by kids arriving in their horse and cart, dressed in the latest bikinis, playing volleyball in the lake.<br /></span></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;">Lake Ala-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kul</span></span></strong></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">My usual approach for experiencing mountains is to stare up at them in wonder and think that the trekkers crawling up them are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">nutbags</span>. Suddenly I realised that every bastard travelling here was into trekking and I was the weird one not doing it. So, I joined some others and our semi-prepared crew did a hike in four days; it takes fit Israelis only two. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">The scenery was alpine. I picked edelweiss and thought it was all fine until we were shaken out of our tents at 2am by the police brandishing guns (scary). However, I was sharing the tent of a tattooed, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">shaven</span> head, big bearded, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Bavarian</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">truckie</span> so he handled the negotiations while I shivered behind, and the Aussie girl screamed into the night. The police are considered the biggest criminals here, but these did eventually leave us alone.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">We climbed up 900 metres in one day into the hail (very cold), scrambled across the pass (very spectacular until it started snowing horizontally), literally dove down the other side with Russian porters laughing their guts up at me staggering down (nothing left of the outer sole of my boots) and finally make it to some hot mineral springs where heaven was found again.</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzcUxS-kKtIUaUT2wDV_H1pwFjltptPXeM5yPg54ntgYQCmzrTrjICTtMSidtFy5kpi0Du_Sc4W_5-0WhrO0XaHajqEtjMQH260Z09F0rHiTRXlP8evEpTStQS5rNlu0FG1t-9vLu5MnM/s576/F1040006.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 369px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzcUxS-kKtIUaUT2wDV_H1pwFjltptPXeM5yPg54ntgYQCmzrTrjICTtMSidtFy5kpi0Du_Sc4W_5-0WhrO0XaHajqEtjMQH260Z09F0rHiTRXlP8evEpTStQS5rNlu0FG1t-9vLu5MnM/s576/F1040006.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;">Me, hair on end, high in the mountains on our walk past </span></span></span></strong><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" ><strong style="font-weight: normal;">Lake Ala-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kul</span></strong></span><br /></div><p><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;">Lake <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Kol</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ukok</span></span></strong></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I couldn't wait to get on horse back and find the remote summer pastures, called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Jailoos</span>. I rode with two dutch girls up to this remote little lake: blue skies above, shimmering glaciers staring down and marmot's shrieks piercing the silence. On the way local men crossed our path, proceeded to get drunk and our guide got into a horse whip fight with one of them. I decided this stuff is becoming normal. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Yurt life is fascinating. It is so far removed from our own lifestyles as they cook, eat, and sleep all in the little, efficient space. I love the beds they make up on the floor of piles of quilts, mostly because there is no foot boards; the beds in the houses are designs for the short arses around here! I have stayed in yurts a total of six nights, and could write an essay on it. Let me know if you want to know more.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFG4OO8ud6n_q_I89sNVKLJNXjaxk-ngGqEoZLBe_WeDO1GKW1Kt-HVpdTMYusbqB3zsEx3Tfo9pTxUB-a-w2u_Ceezv7DZtlD5lcoV0qLyh8DoTbivrUkdIMyRsCVK8wa18I6-90Nkr4/s400/F1040031.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 359px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFG4OO8ud6n_q_I89sNVKLJNXjaxk-ngGqEoZLBe_WeDO1GKW1Kt-HVpdTMYusbqB3zsEx3Tfo9pTxUB-a-w2u_Ceezv7DZtlD5lcoV0qLyh8DoTbivrUkdIMyRsCVK8wa18I6-90Nkr4/s400/F1040031.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLaYOevNkFLRDLlbnJBfRFqhJS-23ZkYRwZvAajp4_9OHRxQDatrzGEzUvTv49izXqC4onPeEXMxLzuZd5YcKl9-VvOs5auC6GIBPFRYvkc976GPCag58r0qQVXeIP9iMnsQ331QHIb1M/s576/F1040034.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 341px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLaYOevNkFLRDLlbnJBfRFqhJS-23ZkYRwZvAajp4_9OHRxQDatrzGEzUvTv49izXqC4onPeEXMxLzuZd5YcKl9-VvOs5auC6GIBPFRYvkc976GPCag58r0qQVXeIP9iMnsQ331QHIb1M/s576/F1040034.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" ><strong style="font-weight: normal;"></strong></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-weight: normal;">Yurt life on the high Jailoo I visited</span></span><br /></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;">Lake Song-</span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Ku</span></span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">l</span></span></strong></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I went up to this big lake with a Aussie/Kiwi couple, not as huge as Issy-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Kul</span> but higher. We stayed in a tourist yurt, but got horses and a guide to find a more authentic one at the other end of the lake. Little did we know the crazy old bastard was a vodka terrorist. He directed us over to a shop yurt for lunch, vodka was produced and it never stopped: he kept us pissed for 24 hours. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Giggling across the fields, we arrived at a yurt for the night, the woman frantically tidying and 12 men crowding in to laugh with (at, more like) us. Vodka continued, there was no escape and I wasn't as much of a man as I couldn't get the huge shot glass down in one. The night blurred into ruddy faces in the single lantern light. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Our sleep was interrupted by comings </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">and goings, and things got ridiculous as vodka was presented for breakfast! By 10am we were forced more shots, and I started begging for the vile fermented mares milk instead. Riding back, all the hills seemed to know us and had converged on the shop yurt where we had no choice in arriving at. But, this time we were seriously pissed; vodka terrorist victims rolling around on the grass. A man was singing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Kyrgyz</span> folk songs, we danced and ate salted, raw fish. Very wonky at remounting, we were given another shot while astride and, with vodka-fueled need for speed, I took off a couple of times with the couple bouncing along behind, then got called back. We hid out like timid mice that night.<br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJpCc6SbyZO6SFfe0MERaVnOIV-olpub7XLyqoZ2RbEPJ8eRuUqjcMODbb6WLwFJF_ObCn_H-uRUfeR-Pl2Vj5rT3OiHxsEEqZOgZZtCppAKxcSob8dxuJ5dNlTPKwvhaDm0gqZuYw_k/s576/F1000032.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 366px; height: 245px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJpCc6SbyZO6SFfe0MERaVnOIV-olpub7XLyqoZ2RbEPJ8eRuUqjcMODbb6WLwFJF_ObCn_H-uRUfeR-Pl2Vj5rT3OiHxsEEqZOgZZtCppAKxcSob8dxuJ5dNlTPKwvhaDm0gqZuYw_k/s576/F1000032.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >A vodka terrorism victim: Ken with a local</span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkQfG7bzkjOksSmoBw62HjlOoYsIR6sHj833NdrYw-Zwm1HJ_ErE65g8FZSAUtqIZYSSQXzHAFTLEPYkx0pq_DbPQPJNAHyTWiR7sUowLXhF7IvaySPP-BRXmIGJ6M5s6qviGbOKdC5A/s576/F1000031.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 329px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkQfG7bzkjOksSmoBw62HjlOoYsIR6sHj833NdrYw-Zwm1HJ_ErE65g8FZSAUtqIZYSSQXzHAFTLEPYkx0pq_DbPQPJNAHyTWiR7sUowLXhF7IvaySPP-BRXmIGJ6M5s6qviGbOKdC5A/s576/F1000031.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >Ken with the crowd at the shop yurt</span><br /></div><p><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;">Lake <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Chatyr</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Kul</span></span></strong></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">This was my last adventure and a truly remote location. At the far end of the country, I got very over-romantic about the Silk Road. I crawled around an historic stone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">caravanserai</span>, picturing the camel trains arriving here, men crouching into the rooms in a mirage of wares and swords. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I was with another Aussie guy and we took horses and a guide into the dramatic, evil looking mountains of naked rock. Passed old camel skulls and into bad weather, I didn't realise we were crossing a pass at 4,300 metres. I had to walk the horse the last bit, heart pounding and the sleet hammering my face: it doesn't tickle. I understand the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Kyrgyz</span> skin tone now, and my hands resembled theirs: very ruddy red, and completed dried out. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">These men don't leave home without their dog, and the one along with us was called Dingo. He got into a fight with a furry marmot, and I watched the cute little creature fight a losing battle for his life. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">The lake was massive. China is over the mountains on the other side and not a scrap of civilisation was to be seen. Where the hell was the yurts? Some white dots in the distance became welcoming yurts with smoke from the chimney, the warmth inside nearly a shock. This was the most traditional yurt stay I had as I watched the woman work no stop, milking horses and making bread. The next day we crossed back over a different pass, the horses toiling almost straight up loose shale. We crossed with three other men, herding three cows and two calves, attended by Dingo and another dog. </span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlaY7yqxS4ff1oYcztYQtjrbwTuJwhvdm_EcVY3YsPqs64Lt9z349iN9hlS-av9vonWUIWx1Us0KWVPn0pbzZHSr-LPA-FSwIVom9Y5ady-5Zm854iKMYIqPkcqheB1i48zMziHS1zMH8/s400/F1010012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlaY7yqxS4ff1oYcztYQtjrbwTuJwhvdm_EcVY3YsPqs64Lt9z349iN9hlS-av9vonWUIWx1Us0KWVPn0pbzZHSr-LPA-FSwIVom9Y5ady-5Zm854iKMYIqPkcqheB1i48zMziHS1zMH8/s400/F1010012.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >Me and my steed on the way up to find the yurts around Lake Chatyr-Kul</span></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" ><strong></strong></span><br /></div><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">By far one of the greatest experiences of Central Asia are the people. I am getting used to it now, but for the first month or so I was astounded at how consistently courtesy, generous, cheerful and genuine they are. I think I have never mixed with the locals so much before; it is a matter of course here. You live in their houses or yurts, and are not treated like a cash machine. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">My Russian has extended from zero, on the first deaf/mute day without Jim, to about 40 words. It is getting exciting that people understand my one word sentences, English being little use here. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Wow, what an epistle! Hope you are still with me. I am onto my next <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">stan</span> tomorrow, Kazakhstan, to hang in cosmopolitan Almaty for a while. I will be fighting the infamous Russian embassy to get a visa and then cross Kazakhstan by train. I have a feeling this is a very long way. I have a feeling that Kazakhstan is as wide as Australia.<br /></span></p>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-75078073925180050142003-08-05T11:24:00.002+10:002009-07-13T21:00:10.556+10:00Uzbekistan - Where have all the vowels gone?<span style="font-family:georgia;">I felt the need to give you a closing update on Uzbekistan as I shortly head into Kyrgyzstan, a name where the first vowel is the second last letter and I still have to look it up to spell it, so don't worry if you can't pronounce it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We have been hanging around Uzbekistan a bit. Due to the deep forests of bureaucracy that runs this area I haven't been able to enter Kyrgyzstan until the date on my visa. The borders in Central Asia are extremely absurd, they look like there were drawn by someone having an violent fit. A number of times when we have moved between major cities of Uzbekistan the road or train line crossed into another country. This can some times involve getting transit visas! We actually entered Turkmenistan for about 20 minutes, the time it took to sign us out and back in again was longer than the trip. Uzbekistan even has little "islands" of territory nestled in Kyrgyzstan. The paperwork must keep some logging industry going; we are registered in every town we enter, and it seriously took about 10 forms, and three different desks, to get my travellers cheques changed into US cash at the National Bank. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6SFW1BqVp-6MyUQdQ60RSj88gVqoYtrPKppCpVLPaVsJXadlC8qdFkruIOgiGBIfjtvnNkEk_o1papLIr5X07kVAvZDScKzDUE7xi5L7wqzgHioSqUarTwHl8QLj9CLe5UtIavw02K0/s576/F1060002.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 207px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6SFW1BqVp-6MyUQdQ60RSj88gVqoYtrPKppCpVLPaVsJXadlC8qdFkruIOgiGBIfjtvnNkEk_o1papLIr5X07kVAvZDScKzDUE7xi5L7wqzgHioSqUarTwHl8QLj9CLe5UtIavw02K0/s576/F1060002.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" >The shape of Uzbekistan</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">For the main reason of killing time, we have been hanging around the Fergana Valley for the past few days. This area has been a hot bed of issues and violet outbursts, mostly due to the spaghetti borders I am guessing. However, even though some people still seem scared of it, the only trouble I have had are the local crazies. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I will tell you a story of my one hour walk around pleasant and leafy Fergana City yesterday. I tracked down my favorite local dish (we know them all by heart now) in the bazaar and read my book in peace. No worries. In the park I became a tourist attraction myself as two boys, I think Russian tourists, asked to have their photo taken with me. Now I know what the locals think when we take photos of them in their funky skull caps: "What the hell for!?". </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Anyway, walking back to the bazaar a lady passed making a keening / wailing racket and promptly striped off her dress (the mu-mu style thing Uzbek women wear). Now in nothing but her big undies she then proceeded to rip up her dress. Other women were starting as much as I. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">That is ok, she didn't affect me as much as the little old women who rushed me and proceeded to claw my backpack, ranting and raving. Have you ever tried to get a little old lady off your back? They are surprisingly tough. Instantly I had a crowd of onlookers as I really tried hard to shove her off and even managed to drag her a few metres. Everyone was pissing themselves laughing and she seriously seemed to think something deadly or extremely offensive was in my backpack. Kindly people were trying to get her off too, to no avail. One man indicated I should just show her was is in my bag. Not a good feeling, but I didn't have much choice and somehow managed to not have everything thrown across the street. With me a bit shaken, she finally let me go with a look of bewilderment on her face. Some people even managed to apologise to me in English, I appreciated that. I wonder what had her so upset and ultimately so confused?<br /><br />Jim was in bed due to very bad guts inflicted by our night on the town on rank vodka (we ended up in a nightclub called Hollywood that only had vodka, not a mixer to be seen). At least I could go and tell him about the ordeal. But, alas, he heads back to Blighty soon and I will continue into the sea of strangers myself. Really, they are generally very friendly people, but they had better lock those grannies up in future.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Anyway, enough crapping on. I hope this email doesn't give the wrong idea, I have enjoyed and been pleasantly surprised by Uzbekistan in many ways. Better get off now to dinner and the every day task of not getting run over by a Daewoo. They are mad drivers and there is an overt war against seat belts; they are all taken out, and in brand new cars never even installed. Lots of things to not understand here.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-62657334652870320722003-07-21T11:07:00.003+10:002009-07-13T20:43:38.298+10:00Uzbekistan - The saddest place on Earth<span style="font-family:georgia;">The title is how the Lonely Planet described Karakalpakstan (a stan maybe other stans haven't heard of). It is a "republic" inside Uzbekistan and we flew to its capital, Nukus, over arid landscapes in a Soviet-era propeller plane whose engine drone was deafening and reminded me of being in a 1970's James bond movie.<br /><br />This is the site of one of the world's biggest ecological disaster, the draining of the Aral Sea. We felt a bit perverse, like going to look at a bloody accident. We mentioned to locals where we were heading, and a certain horrified look crosses their faces, even more so when we confirm we are not doctors or journalists.<br /><br />Hotter summers, colder winters, the Earth coughing up salt, the people suffering high infant mortality, deformity, throat cancer and <a id="pa1" href="http://www.google.com/aclk?sa=L&ai=CBOUBJzNYSeSULY-2tQPQ35jgBLywln6Uzv3sCajE6gYIABABIO2K3wZQkOWPAWCloJWAmAHIAQGqBBZP0Jra6-KuC2GNejRzQYspDwk_hBWA&sig=AGiWqtzf6V9q-SCh8nJgY5w8u8TsiGKOsA&q=http://www.msf.org.au/">Médecins Sans Frontières</a> seems to be focusing on TB. The MSF were kind enough to let us stay in their house in Moynaq, a town that used to be a thriving fishing port. We stumble out of the bus in the searing heat to a half ghost town; we really look like freaks. However, as what is proving usual with the Uzbeks, we are treated with utmost hospitality and fed continuously.<br /><br />We walked out the next morning to the Grave Yard of the Ships. Rusting skeletons of fishing boats sink into the sand dunes. The shore is over 40kms, yes, that is 40kms from where it was. I wonder at what point did everyone give up? The sound of the wind is strangely like the sea. A little old lady stops us and Jim deciphers some of her Russian: "the weather is screwed, the ecology is screwed" and, tapping her head, someone is crazy. We weren't sure if that was the Russians for doing this or us for coming. Probably both, she was pissed off either way.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXL8-_sESvycwkHIoOsXY2d4gO41XmRD54caFx0FoT6Enhy96gLLlBbXVsxu4K9AkLoNLaIfqf2QGp2X3Atdpd2f_Qy-gsYJOo_kGtjMXhvPWQtAQ_6yhBhv9boMRHuUk3tlTgXVmcGqQ/s576/Uz_BoatsLookout.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 357px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXL8-_sESvycwkHIoOsXY2d4gO41XmRD54caFx0FoT6Enhy96gLLlBbXVsxu4K9AkLoNLaIfqf2QGp2X3Atdpd2f_Qy-gsYJOo_kGtjMXhvPWQtAQ_6yhBhv9boMRHuUk3tlTgXVmcGqQ/s576/Uz_BoatsLookout.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >A local killing time in the rusting hull of a beached ship where the Aral Sea used to be. Photo courtesy of Jim</span>.<br /></span></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />Back in Nukus, we visited the world class art museum and bought some great stuff. That night a hooker tried to kick our door in. You can find anything in this desert. We have been happy with how things have worked out, chance meetings with locals and long term expats who point us in good directions.<br /><br />We didn't see any tourists until we hit Khiva and now Bukhara. It is strange to think these impressive cities of highly decorated minarets, ancient mosques and medressas (religious schools) are not world famous. But, the middle aged French seem to have worked it out; they are here by the bus load.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjho5Ic2z_GHQb-5tWOQrAQC4k4-DZqmgHgW1CC17ky4wI5YLc1xxJ28N4Fd0_E8QTBUy5qczmhx1EmYJAQmAOwVvxmqcOjTuC5bsDQxU37iI2zeIc1HbH99GBKiWxiSDFybNL82ZXlvVM/s400/F1060025.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 359px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjho5Ic2z_GHQb-5tWOQrAQC4k4-DZqmgHgW1CC17ky4wI5YLc1xxJ28N4Fd0_E8QTBUy5qczmhx1EmYJAQmAOwVvxmqcOjTuC5bsDQxU37iI2zeIc1HbH99GBKiWxiSDFybNL82ZXlvVM/s400/F1060025.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >Looking out over Khiva</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />The people are fabulous and even where they are used to tourists, there is none of the intense hassle - you can look at a carpet and actually leave the shop. One guy even gave us a carpet to sit on and then totally disappeared. We couldn't even find him to give the carpet back. The reverse psychology worked, what the hell was in his shop that he didn't need to drag us kicking and screaming in!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-DI8l6_LXJMKiGKqQostys2NSYvhjY1llQoFrBRSkTo7q52pAvOWetqp2IsjzRIM0zY-5b9I_puPey0ezhtha5ar6OnhX_TZKJjP-mwlo82SMdrB_m_sVvSlKSQHcX5kM-95HzH0GLw/s576/F1060027.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-DI8l6_LXJMKiGKqQostys2NSYvhjY1llQoFrBRSkTo7q52pAvOWetqp2IsjzRIM0zY-5b9I_puPey0ezhtha5ar6OnhX_TZKJjP-mwlo82SMdrB_m_sVvSlKSQHcX5kM-95HzH0GLw/s576/F1060027.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>The kids are a laugh; still after lollies but give up pretty easy. We had fun teaching them English (I would get in trouble from Jim if he caught me teaching them to say "gudday"). We even nearly ended up invited to a wedding. The hospitably is overboard. Bloody hell, we are in their wedding photos! Jim sweating, me a usual grot standing next to the suited groom and the very demur bride in garish white (she isn't allowed to look up or happy for about two days).<br /><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnbazd3DionSlslg_rDYbKpmZkfP5w1_81N-Ue7Ygyz2L2dbdOGygvj9CoTRrHIJHabl58bKZ-tHLQbKhZfzveE5ma-pujP5HsvQ5__GS7fee-rBr-mKUFxpUaz71NJNYBy5XUoHJ-OzY/s400/F1030007.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 212px; height: 317px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnbazd3DionSlslg_rDYbKpmZkfP5w1_81N-Ue7Ygyz2L2dbdOGygvj9CoTRrHIJHabl58bKZ-tHLQbKhZfzveE5ma-pujP5HsvQ5__GS7fee-rBr-mKUFxpUaz71NJNYBy5XUoHJ-OzY/s400/F1030007.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >Jim and a gorgeous little boy we fell in love with in Bukhara</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />Some of the beer is undrinkable (Afro travellers, recall to your nostrils the vomit-like aroma of shake-shake) and some French we met spat out the wine, but the food is plentiful with fresh fruit and veges. The music is very scary: mostly western pop, boy band medleys, and even a Russian cover of Kylie still in English for some odd reason. Girls fashion ranges from conservative sun dresses to Russian hooker style.<br /><br />Right, now I am just going on. </span>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359225933169251311.post-766427659418448542003-07-12T10:53:00.002+10:002009-07-13T20:20:02.564+10:00Uzbekistan - Bags of cash<span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">I am finally in Uzbekistan! And I conned Jim into coming with me, even though he thinks it was his idea. Things started more than dandy when we were bumped into Business Class from London to Moscow, sweet! Hung around Moscow with a interesting Scot and then got back to earth with a bump in Russian Cattle Class to Tashkent. Moderate bedlam in the airport but survived. I now realise that pushing, shoving, screaming, and loads of big stripy bags all taped up are actually the norm over the world, it is just us crazy westerns who are weird standing calmly in line.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I think I am getting old; didn't battle with the taximafia at the airport, I had someone pick us up, take us to our aircon room and was served a major Uzbek breakfast all before 7:30am. Felt weird not being a total scumbag but the effect hasn't worn off yet.<br /><br />After wandering the gigantic streets, jumping the ankle eating gutters, we found the bank and proceeded to musical offices only to be presented with PILES and PILES of som. Another office juggle to try and get it into bigger notes. Laugh of the day when Jim jokes everyone must carry their change in black plastic bags, then we looked around and found everyone DID have black plastic bags of briefcase proportions full of the stuff. One old dear even wanted us to do a black market trade, while in the bank!</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Anyway, we need sleep and I have to get my bulging pockets home. It will soon be stinking hot, back to the aircon me thinks. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Can't wait to tell you more!<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRt-pLgODCbRzvGYM8TRhyphenhyphenDNVCpqbBfVKelNwqQmaQ1NuvKEqvCGJBn5XkagBZ9VW_ak_95-Tb9w-fl2H1mbx01XsBOJjPB2Ji5CJX1kTBcel_0bAD0Sfo642gfRHF7CLCIPvtqyswJY/s576/Uz_TashkentSom.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 410px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRt-pLgODCbRzvGYM8TRhyphenhyphenDNVCpqbBfVKelNwqQmaQ1NuvKEqvCGJBn5XkagBZ9VW_ak_95-Tb9w-fl2H1mbx01XsBOJjPB2Ji5CJX1kTBcel_0bAD0Sfo642gfRHF7CLCIPvtqyswJY/s576/Uz_TashkentSom.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >My array of Som</span><br /></div>Suzannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00539397608529342626noreply@blogger.com0