Is there life after the trip?

People often tell me that the adjustment after such a journey must be really hard. I didn’t feel this way. Even for a free spirit, being on the road for three years makes you appreciate some stability. I couldn’t possibly describe what a joy it is not to have to pack your bag yet again after a couple of days in your apartment.

I also grew to miss work. Surprising as it may sound, work is a source of meaning. I could have continued travelling as there was no immediate financial pressure to return. But I felt like it was time.

How to summarise this trip? 70 countries, 5 continents, a full circle around the world and then some. Slept in innumerable hotel, hostel, apartment, B&B, AirBnB beds, took a ridiculous number of planes, buses, ships, and trains, met an endless variety of people. So many events have taken place, it feels like a whole lifetime of experiences. Those who know me won’t be surprised – I of course kept a list of all the decisively new experiences that I tried. It goes from sky diving to a meditation course, though some items cannot be disclosed. By the end of the trip, there were at least 58 positions.

There are two major changes. Work feels different. And travel feels different.

Once you’ve been to so many places, and not just “been”, but spent quite a while in them, a month here, several months there, every place feels like home. And no place feels like home. I am never lost or awed or even really disoriented anywhere. And yet I don’t feel a particular attachment to any place.

The work on the other hand feels a lot more rewarding. This is what I keep repeating to my director – work is a reward. In the past it felt like a duty. Now it feels like an opportunity to apply myself. Quite a difference. Also the nature of my work has changed, and I feel lucky about it.

And nobody said I have to stop travelling! For example, this year I’ve already spent time travelling in…

US Deep South,

Sicily,

South Africa, Swaziland and Lesotho,

Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan,

and Switzerland,

not even mentioning minor trips like a weekend here and there!

I am writing this in sunny Bern, the capital of the Swiss Confederation. What a great place to be!

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This double attraction is the pride of Haiti and its main tourist sight. Inscribed to the UNESCO World Heritage list, it is no doubt the most surprising and most impressive fortress built in the Western hemisphere after the “discovery” of America by Columbus. As I wandered around it, I was struggling to comprehend how the slaves that had just gained their freedom could built such a miracle of architecture in the middle of a country destroyed by the civil war? How an idea this brave could be born, what was the key to its methodical implementation?

Clearly, when this fortress was built, when the kingdom of Henri-Christophe just came into existence, the whole history of the world must have appeared very different, and the future too held a very different promise. It was the time when the United States had just been born, the French Revolution had just taken place. The reactionary forces had not yet suffocated the new growths of freedom in Europe. And Africa was not yet divided between colonial empires like a multi-coloured carpet. At that time anyone could be forgiven for thinking that freedom and self-sufficiency were within reach for any hopeful new country.

This is a video I made in Citadelle Laferrière. From its top levels I could see an incredible panorama of Haitian mountains descending towards the Atlantic in the distance. I added a song “Ayiti leve” from an album of Haitian music given to me by a friend long time ago. “Ayiti leve” in Creole means “Get up, Haiti!”

There are virtually no tourists in Haiti. The locals are convinced that any white person has an endless supply of cash and so the rare visitors that do come here are asked to pay exorbitant amounts for the most basic services. The asking price for an excursion to the Citadel from Cap is from 120 dollars. I figured out that taptaps connect Cap with a small town of Milot that is at the bottom of the mountain – the Sans Souci palace is bordering the town. From Milot it’s 7 km up the moutain to the Citadel, and it was not entirely clear how to deal with that obstacle. We’ll play by the ear, I decided.

Finding the right taptap in Cap was easy-breezy. There were armies of taptaps all over the place, but once I asked for Milot, smiling drivers sent me from one to the next until I got to the right one. Off we go. This time I sit in the back of taptap – it’s covered, with narrow benches inside along the sides, where lots of passengers squeeze you from every side. I was glad to have earplugs with me – the centre of the truck, like an altar, was occupied by a huge music transmitter which blared so loud you had to shout to be heard.

Of course, it’s Haiti. Immediately after departure we were caught in a monstrous traffic jam. What’s going on? Very soon we were surrounded by a shouting and dancing crowd carrying handwritten slogans. A demonstration! I couldn’t quite figure out its reasons, but it was clearly against the government. So all traffic froze. No matter, after standing for about half an hour we slowly started to move again and an hour later I got off at Milot. Of course local handymen surrounded me right off, insisting that they wouldn’t even let me inside the national park without a “guide”! My earplugs came in handy yet again – I demonstratively put them in my ears to get rid of a particularly insistent guide candidate. And then promptly struck a deal with one polite boy. He offered to get me up to the Citadel and back for 10$ return.

Midway up the mountain a realisation struck him that he’s out of fuel. He left me by the roadside works and asked to wait. I was laughing, but did wait for him – perhaps a quarter an hour. It’s Haiti, after all, I was telling myself. This is where I was waiting for him:

It’s actually a long way up. To walk it on foot in the scorching sun would be madness (though a few mad tourists to Haiti nevertheless undertake this hike). Finally after 5 km on a steep uphill road you get to a mud square. From here on the motorbike cannot go. You can walk or you can ride a horse.

I resolutely declined paying a fortune for a horseride up and even insisted that a horseride seller stop following me (it’s their tactic to get tourists to buy their product). I much preferred walking alone. The way up looks like this from this point:

It’s only 40 minutes of pleasant walking. Of course it’s hot – but you get to enjoy such views!

As you approach the Citadel, you start appreciating its enormity.

I had no helicopter to make this kind of pic – so it’s a photo of a photo.

I reach the foot of the Citadel:

The gates:

The first internal courtyard, meant to confuse the attacker:

That courtyard as seen from the inside of the fortress:

From another angle:

The internal courtyard of the fortress itself:

You climb steep internal staircases to reach still higher inside:

The tomb of king Henri-Christophe about mid-level inside the fortress. Henri-Christophe was one of the generals in the liberation war of the slaves against the French colonisers. Following the decisive victory in that war the top general, Dessalines, declared Haiti’s independence. As Napoleon crowned himself emperor of the French in 1804, Dessalines swiftly followed suit and declared himself emperor of Haiti. However in 1806 Dessalines was assassinated in a coup d’état, and Haiti dissolved into two parts – the South was controlled by general Petillon of mixed black and white blood, whereas the North was ruled by general Henri-Christophe, a former slave. Some years later Henri-Christophe declared himself king. He developed a complex administative system for his kingdom, copied after feudal Europe, and came up with a whole list of titles – princes, dukes and counts – for his new “nobility”. In Europe this provoked a lot of ridicule – for a long time the expression “Haitian nobility” stood for fake, newly created titles with no tradition to back them. However the rule of Henri-Christophe was based on the system of forced labour – which gradually led to loss of popularity and power. In 1820 he commited suicide and Haiti was again unified by yet another general.

We climb ever higher:

To the actual roof:

Impressive towers marking the corners of the fortress:

Internal rooms:

One of the giant terraces:

Cannon balls:

All the cannons of Henri-Christophe’s army are tropheys – they were taken by the slaves from the French expeditionary corps sent by Napoleon. The origins of a few cannons cannot be traced.

Such as this one – created in England after the Haitian independence and bearing English markings. How it got to the slave army is a mystery.

The plan of the Citadel:

Citadel is a veritable labyrinth actually – you can circle it for hours:

Having spent about 2 hours in the Citadel, I headed back down.

It’s around here that I met the crazy South Korean from my previous post. He was riding a horse up the mountain! Here he described his “very basic” hotel for 10$ and told me where he’d managed to visit already that morning. He also shocked me by telling that he was taking a night bus to Port-au-Prince. Shocked – because I was going back to Santiago where I’d left my luggage – and so couldn’t make it to Port-au-Prince!

This road leads back to the exit. The local villagers keep asking you to buy something – the effect of the constant flow (trickle, rather) of tourists.

My motorbike rider waited for me for over two hours right here – to take me down to Sans Souci. Little did I know that the greatest challenge of the day was only coming up! Explanation: the road is paved with stones. It’s no problem as you ride the motorbike up. But it’s a wholly separate story to ride it down. You feel like you are inside a washing machine – the bike keep jumping every second, and you jump with it, holding on to the dear life to the back of your black driver, praying he doesn’t lose control and we don’t fly off down the mountain! I though my intestines will turn into whipped cream. It was so bad that I asked him to stop several times and let me get back to my senses.

Finally we arrived. I thanked him and entered the Sans Souci palace – or rather its remains. The main entrance of the palace:

Guarded by the UN:

You get to feel the scale of the construction:

Looking back:

This is how Sans Souci looks from above:

In actual fact I entered the palace through a hole in the fence where my bike driver left me off – to avoid circling the whole palace. We’re in Haiti, after all. (It’s one ticket for the Citadel and Sans Souci anyway.) So actually my first view of Sans Souci was like this:

This statue is probably the most recognisable emblem of this once resplendent palace and its long gone glory.

The way back through Milot.

Passers by:

I got back to Cap-Haïtien as I came – in a taptap, knowing by now that it’s a perfectly operational transport mode, despite being squeezed in the seat next to the driver with two (TWO!) other rather fleshy locals. No worries. On the next day I took a Caribe Tours bus from Cap back to Santiago – without any crazy adventures this time, except that on our way we came across another Caribe Tours bus that had broken down and so all its passengers joined us in our bus.

My impressions of Haiti were nothing like the horrifying stereotype that I’d had beforehand. Nobody is eaten in the streets in this beautiful and friendly country. Though don’t count on things going quite as planned

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The secret of all this glory was that the French came up with the most efficient system of mass production of sugar cane of them all. As a result, Saint-Domigue was the richest colony in all of the New World. The rest of the colonisers looked at Saint-Domingue with envy and tried to copy its methods in their own territories.

However these incredible riches were built on two unsustainable factors. Firstly, the system required inhuman exploitation of black slaves. Several tens of thousands of white slaveowners used sadistic methods to enforce the backbreaking work of millions of black slaves. Secondly, the system irrevocably destroyed another resource – the soils that cover most of hilly Haitian countryside. These soils accumulated over thousands of years and were only sustained due to the forests that prevented the erosion from rain and wind. As these forests were cut down to make way for plantations, a quick and irreversible soil erosion followed. Today forests are only 5% of Haiti’s territory which was once all forest. The fertile soils are almost completely gone. This is the inheritance left to Haiti by the colonisers. Yet another inheritance is the “debt” of 90 million golden francs that Haiti would pay back to the French all the way to 1947. (Absurdly, some former French colonies in Africa are paying analogous “debt” to France to this day.)

The rare visitors to Cap often note how badly Haitians take care of their architectural heritage. They forget an important detail – Cap-Haitien was entirely destroyed in 1802 in the course of the liberation war with the French. All the buildings here were built after Haitian independence.

The city is indeed very beautiful and picturesque and obviously in bad condition. The taptap from Ouanaminthe let us out on the outskirts of the city where mototaxis were already waiting. Luckily I had exchanged some dollars to the local gourdes at the border, so I could negotiate in the local currency – and quickly agreed to be taken to my hotel for 50 gourdes (1 dollars). (In fact even that was too expensive.) This is how this and many other trips by mototaxi looked – it’s by far the most operational way to go around Haiti’s towns!

My rather expensive hotel was located on the edge of the city. In Haiti there are practically no hotels in the middle price category. There are either complete rubbish holes for 10 dollars or “luxury” hotels for “rich foreigners” for 100 dollars and up – whose expenses are anyway reimbursed by their international organisation or company. Afte some hesitation, I decided to pre-book an hotel and picked the cheapest of the “expesive” hotels – which turned out more than enough for me. My Korean friend on the other hand set out to one of the rubbish hotels mentioned in Lonely Planet. Next day I accidentally bumped into him and with his unfathomable smile he explained that his hotel was “very basic, very basic” – but cost all of 10 USD!

No one wants you to pay by card in the Dominican Republic: I guess either they’re hiding their revenues or are avoiding the credit card commissions. To my extreme surprise in my hotel in Haiti paying by card was no problem at all! A refined black man behind the counter spoke to me in absolutely perfect French and quickly performed all the necessary manipalutions. And here I am in my hotel room! As it was already dark, I decided to have a dinner in the hotel and head out to explore Cap-Haitien the next morning.

My first impressions of Cap.

I decided to explore the centre on foot – so at first I was looking at unkempt suburbs.

Unbelievable numbers of iron shops everywhere.

The beginning of the true historical Cap-Haitien, the one that makes travellers lament on how the Haitian architectural heritage is not preserved as it should be.

Sophisticated old buildings with beautiful hanging balconies:

I headed first thing to a local grand market which is called Marché de Fer (Iron Market). To get there, I had to pierce the mass of humanity in narrow surrounding streets:

The entrance of Marché de Fer. It is called Iron Market as it’s literally built from iron – not unlike the Eiffel Tower!

Inside the Iron Market:

I have to say that in the Dominican Republic a white person won’t be able to walk three steps without being shouted at and asked to buy something. Nothing like that in Haiti – people look at you with some surprise, but no one actually bothers you. If you take pictures, some people turn away, but mostly people laugh and start discussing you with their neighbour. All in all, no one actually cares about you!

From Marché de Fer I headed towards the main square, which is just several blocks to the North. It is centred on the statue of the Haitian hero, Toussant L’Ouverture, the leader of the liberation war against the French.

The buildings of the main square:

You would be forgiven to forget that Cap-Haitien lies on the ocean shore as most activity is concentrated inland.

I decided to walk to Fort Picolet which lies some kilometres to the North. The road passes through deserted suburbs and eventually you arrive at this secluded beach frequented by locals. Later I discovered that the actual Fort Picolet lies way further – behind the faraway rock that you can see on this photo – and you can only reach it by walking on the rocks through the waves.

I was not ready to give up and so I walked on and on through the waves until I reached the isolated Fort.

To my surprise, I realised the reason why Haitians visit it has nothing to do with tourism. It is a religious site. In a niche by the rocks there is a kind of an altar where the locals were burning candles and singing songs.

I observed the ceremony for a bit from afar and decided not to bother them too much. Walking around the Fort built many years ago by the French to defend Saint-Domingue from other Europeans was an eerie experience.

The ocean roaring below:

The way back:

This is Haiti after all and not all is romantic waves-rocks. Actually you walk through veritable rubbish. It’s like this everywhere.

For example the stream (former river) flowing through central Cap-Haitien is a river of rubbish.

The rubbish is burnt in the very centre of Cap:

These very my impressions from Cap-Haitien. However the most important part of my Haitian program was surely the visit to the castle of the black king Henri-Christophe. Citadel Laferrière lies 20 kilometres from Cap in the isolated Haitian mountains. That’s the subject of the next post!

/to be continued in the next post/

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A visit to Haiti was in my sights already during my first visit to Santo Domingo. That time I couldn’t make it – despite trying numerous times to buy a bus ticket to Port-au-Prince. There was always a reason – the office of the only bus company that plies the route was unexplicably closed; or they wouldn’t have tickets; or the border was closed and the bus was cancelled – “Huelga!” shouted at me a black saleswoman when I inquired about the reasons.

And yet I was irresistibly drawn by Haiti – it felt like a truly weird place, wild, chaotic, exotic and unknown, a perfect candidate to broaden my own travelling horizons. Haiti is unique as the only country in the history of the world where a slave insurrection has been victorious and has led to independence. The slaves managed to defeat the troops sent by Napoleon himself!

Unfortunately, their hardwon freedom has not resulted in exemplary prosperity. The slave republic has long been an outcast in the world affairs, shunned by all of its colonial neighbours and even forced to pay absurd reparations to its former colonial master, France. In the 20th century constant meddling by the Americans guaranteed no sane leader could remain long in his position, whereas the terrible Duvalier dynasty had a free reign to terrorise the population for decades as long as they played ball with the United States. As if that wasn’t enough, an horrific earthquake struck Port-au-Prince in 2010. Today Haiti, while trying to rebuild itself, remains the poorest country in the Western hemisphere.

So how did I make it there? I changed my tactics and decided to go to Haiti from Santiago de los Caballeros (DR’s second city) instead of Santo Domingo. As I flew to Santiago from Puerto Rico, first thing I did was visit the office of Caribe Tours that was supposed to sell tickets to Cap-Haïtien, Haiti’s second city. That office was a windowless room hidden somewhere in the back of an out-of-town bus station in Santiago. A lone black man sat in the windowless room. As I switched from Spanish to French, his facial expression changed immediately as if he decided that my request to buy a ticket was not a joke. He sold me a bus ticket for the following morning. I didn’t reveal my excitement, knowing how nothing is set in stone when it comes to Haiti.

The following morning I was waiting in the station and – surprise, surprise – the bus arrived almost on time and off we went to Cap-Haitien. To make it all easier for myself, I left my large luggage bag in a hotel in Santiago and only took a small rucksack with me. Each and every passenger in the bus besides myself was black, with one notable exception: a crazy guy from South Korea who didn’t even speak any of the local languages – not Spanish and not French (not even mentioning Creole). Of course we started talking (in English) and it turned out he had also been to more than 100 countries. We did have a lot to discuss, especially considering that his travel collection was very different from mine – he’d been to a lot fo countries in Africa for example.

And yet Haiti did show it’s character. Let me explain. As we were approaching the border, all of a sudden a strange commotion set in inside the bus. A loud discussion turned into an argument turned into a shouting match – in Creole. Finally I managed to grab the travel hostess (yes, these buses feature a hostess who welcomes you on board, serves lunch, and is theoretically responsible for all border formalities). The hostess declared to me that the bus will not go further. Why??? The border is closed. Somebody has been killed and the police has closed the border bridge. The bus goes back to Santiago!!! However, if you want, you can cross the border on foot. And then organise your own transport to Cap-Haitien.

I think something in me already expected something like this. Otherwise why would I have taken only a rucksack with me? So I translated all this story to the South Korean, we looked at each other for a split second and of course decided that we would cross the border on foot. To her credit, the hostess took us in tow and took care of us in the immigration departments of the two countries. On this pic you can see as she leads the way to the Haitian immigration. She is second from left.

A look back at the border.

The lorries wait in an eternal queue thanks to the Haitians’ crossing the border bridge.

The border itself is a very dirty river in which the locals nevertheless cheerfully swim and wash their clothes. I photographed it from a bus window on my return trip:

The hostess left us after we’d crossed the border without any issues. Immediately in the very immigration building we were surrounded by a crew of non-descript characters who insistently tugged on our clothes and offered us their “taxi” services to take us anyplace we like – charging tens, hundreds, why, thousands of dollars! Quickly we lost all trust in them and headed out, towards the border town of Ouanaminthe. I had info that from Ouanaminthe local minibuses headed to Cap-Haïtien.

I was impressed by the zen-like tranquillity of my South Korean companion through all of this. He cheerfully filmed all of this on his video camera and generally took his time, despite the fact that the evening darkness was slowly approaching. His calm was quite infectious. This is how Ouanaminthe looks. To be honest, it looks like a rubbish pile.

Finally after several kilometres’ walk through Ouanaminthe in the scorching sun we reached a non-descript “station” surrounded by a chaotic collection of local buses. We were quickly ushered into one of them – luckily next to the driver. My view – I’m sitting right behind the driver. Note the scenic metal scraps hanging from the ceiling.

The Korean is sitting next to the driver and is constantly filming, provoking everyone’s laughter.

The view of Ouanamanithe out the window to my left. We sit in this position for an hour, waiting for the bus to fill. The local buses all over Haiti are called taptaps. Very quickly I realised the origin of this name. Apart from the driver, there is always a second worker in a local bus – a kind of a hustler who directs the flow of passengers. Every time he asks for a stop or signals we can keep moving, he slightly taps the bus with his hand – literally “tap! tap!” The taptap stops everywhere all the time, and the back of taptap is filled to the brim with Haitians with most inbelievable density.

And finally after a few hours we enter Cap-Haïtien.

/to be continued in the next post/

The post How I finally got to Haiti: adventures on the border and what is taptap appeared first on Around the world in three years.

Grenada is the last, i.e. Southernmost island in the Antilles archipelago. Further South is South America with its satellite islands.

Grenada is marketed as the Spice Island due to a huge choice of spices available here. As for me, I knew it mostly as the island which was attacked by Ronald Reagan.


The capital is called St George’s and is mostly on the hills. The cathedral:

You go up and down all the time. The population of St George’s is 3 thousand.

In 2004-2005 two major hurricanes hit the island. There are still buildings in the centre of St George’s that haven’t recovered from that.

I was particularly interested to learn about Grenada’s history so we visited a local historical museum.

The controversial events of 1970-1980 are covered on 2nd floor.

What is controversial? Grenada obtained independence from Britain in 1974. In 1979 a revolution took place which got into power the New JEWEL Movement. It was a left wing party which incorporating ideology of “black power”. The new government was quickly at odds with the USA, consequently it turned to Cuba for help and eventually oriented itself in Socialist direction.

As often seems the case with left wing revolutions, there were significant personal tensions within the movement. In 1983 the leader of the revolution Maurice Bishop was removed from power by his former subordinates. In some dramatic sequence of events, Bishop tried to take power back heading a crowd of supporters, got arrested and – in a shock to to all – executed by gunfire. The new leader took an even more radical leftist position. Six days later the United States invaded Grenada (declaring rather absurdly that Grenada was a threat to USA), removed the government and installed a friendly regime.

To this day in Grenada these events are seen as controversial. However the international airport here is named after Maurice Bishop, who is officially considered a national hero.

The semaphore on the main square of the town. As we can see, no economic miracle transpired here despite a capitalist economy. All the cafés advertise “free wifi” to tourists. But very quickly we found out that actually it’s a local telecom hotspot open to all.

A key intersection in the townscape – the tunnel through the hill which leads to the harbour.

Carenage is the most atmospheric area of St George’s. It’s a harbour to the East of the centre.

Sophisticated restaurants line the waterside around the harbour offering a view to die for.

I climbed the hill which separates Carenage from the town centre. On the top of the hill is located Fort George which guarded Grenada in the old days.

Our ship from every possible angle:

Spices are sold in everywhere on the streets. We checked out a few – they are prepared with sugar. Our day in Grenada flew very quickly as we realised it was the last island in our cruise. And soon we depart it. For this occasion the captain opened the helicopter deck and drinks were served there.

To conclude the cruise, some photos of our ship. This is how we saw it on the first day as we boarded it in Puerto Rico:

In addition to gorgeous views, the top deck features offers several pools and a tanning beds. To be honest, we never used either of those.

There is a concert hall on the ship offering performances every night of the cruise – we saw some bits and pieces and found it sufficiently entertaining to return. Various events and performances are organised in other spaces too. To get to the concert hall, you have to pass through the shopping area as well as the casino where we won some chips. Finally, we visited an art auction – chiefly for the free champagne, but the action itself was fun too!

Farewell, Jewel of the Seas!

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Saint Lucia was nicknamed the Helen of West Indies due to the fact that no other island changed hands so many times – no less than 14 times it was traded back and forth between the French and the British. Paradoxically, the last military conflict here was won by the French – and yet it was the Brits who stuck with Saint Lucia, thanks to a peace deal signed in faraway Europe. Today Saint Lucia is part of the Commonwealth and the head of state here is the British queen. And yet many of the local names in Saint Lucia are French, starting with the capital, Castries, which is named a French marquess. The locals pronounce it in English manner though, with the stress on the first syllable and without omitting the final “s” as you would in French.

Saint Lucia is remarkable for the fact that it happens to have the most Nobel prize winners per capita! As many as TWO islanders have won the prize – writer Derek Walcott and economist Arthur Lewis. By a strange coincidence both were born on the same day, 23 January.

As for me, it was particularly sweet to visit Saint Lucia as it was my 100th independent country. To reach 100 visited countries was one of my goals for 2015. Done!


Exceptionally, we decided to take an organised tour of Saint Lucia as we had heard there were things worth seeing on this island. So right from the ship we board a minivan and off we go to explore Saint Lucia. Our guide Bernadette keeps making jokes, but first thing she tells us is that she’s about to get married!

We start in a vintage point of the capital, Castries. Our ship (to the left) dominates the scene.

The road South passes through endless jungle with some foothill villages here and there.

The most exclusive area on the island is the bay of Marigot – it’s the one on the first image in this post. We stopped there on the way South. There we had a chance to sample the local produce. The banana ketchup was particularly in vogue – I tried it and it tasted just like the regular tomato ketchup to me! I don’t particularly fancy either though. Banana ketchup goes 5 dollars for a small bottle. We later tried another, extremely hot local sauce. All alone it destroys your palette, but when added to various dishes, it suddenly opens them up from an unexpected side. It’s sold in the same small bottles.

On our way we pass by the banana plantations. When the bananas reach the stage of ripeness, they are packed in these blue bags to prevent birds and other animals from consuming them. Bernadette bought some fresh bananas and gave each of us one – honestly, they tasted utterly unique, pure and tasty. Nothing like the supermarket bananas which of course are transported over half the world.

Finally we reach the village of Anse-la-Raye – one of the local tourist magnets. Known primarily for its local goods fare and night feasts.

A very atmospheric village!

On this beach I was approached by a rather decrepit looking homeless man. First he introduced himself at length, shaking my hand. Then he offered to make photos of him or with him. I politely declined, seeing that it’s likely a pretext to ask me for money.

The beach.

Picturesque church is full of – not doves, not swallows, but small white herons.

We continue our path through the jungle.

The snake charmers try to catch the tourists.

This one seems like an avatar of the hero on his T-shirt.

Finally we are at the viewpoint where we can see the most famous site of Saint Lucia. The Pythons are two oddly shaped mountains, so unique in terms of geology that they are listed as UNESCO World Heritage.

The richest town on the island is Soufrière at the foot of the Pythons. We stopped over for a lunch. It is possible to climb either of the Pythons – the Big Python has a pathway and it’s possible to trek up. The Little Python requires a lot more work as it’s a technical climb.

Myself with the Pythons, proud of my 100 visited countries milestone.

Passing through Soufrière. The weather in Saint Lucia is quite particular – it changes literally every five minutes from rain to sunshine to rain again. The explanation is the geography of the island: the mountains keep condensing the clouds, but it passes quickly as the island is small.

We got to see the crater of the local volcano, with the requisite smoke. Obviously after visiting endless volcanoes in New Zealand and Central America I don’t find it that much of a novelty. I was more interested in the mud baths that apparently could be taken right nearby – but we had no time to take one.

Because the botanical garden still had to be visited!

Bernadette would speak in unbelievable detail about multitudes of local plants. You could see this topic was her passion.

For a fee, you can take medical baths in the botanical garden. These were created by the French during the reign of Louis XVI. It was said that their effect was comparable to the best waters in France and Germany. (I doubt though that many tourists would cross the Atlantic for this reason alone in those days!)

The garden’s delights:

Crowned by a waterfall:

This was the last point of our organised tour. We decided to take a quick walk on our own around Castries – I was craving coffee. Coffee was nowhere to be found, but the town seemed to live its own life, quite unaware of the tourists – quite a contrast to a place like Charlotte-Amalie, for instance.

The Castries’ cathedral on the main square:

With fascinating interior:

A little park on the main square devoted to the Nobel prize winner Derek Walcott:

Colonial buildings surround the main square. Not many have been preserved in Castries due to frequent fires.

A local:

And finally – the last look in the direction of Saint Lucia. Farewell, Pythons!

All the posts about the cruise in the Caribbean:
Puerto Rico: Strange Spanish-speaking United States
A Denmark in the Antilles: Charlotte-Amalie of the US Virgin Islands
Blotch of Antigua with its 365 beaches of eternal sun
Colourful decay of overseas France: Martinique
Saint Lucia, the most authentic of the Caribbean islands
The last island of the Antilles: Grenada

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France keeps a whole laundry list of various tiny territories all over the world – remains of the former giant colonial empire. The French constitution groups them in various clusters, some of which overlap. This complex system was previously referred to as DOM-TOM (“overseas departments and territories”), but following recent reforms this abbreviation has become obsolete – now it would be DROM-COM, though in the corridors the old way is still used.

Welcome to this shard of France stuck in the middle of the Caribbean! Liberté égalité fraternité say hello!


Overall view from the sea of Fort-de-France, the capital of Martinique:

A recently built Lumina Tower – the largest building in the Small Antilles.

The Catholic cathedral:

As you descend on the shore of an island in the Caribbean and suddenly you’re met by the perfectly Francophone locals citing prices in euros, you suddenly experience a cognitive dissonance.

The top sight of Fort-de-France is the Schœlcher library. Schœlcher was a French publicist who led the fight against slavery in the mid 19th century. He had visited French colonies in various continents and wrote a number of literary works based on his experiences. These works passionately denonunced slavery and became so influential that eventually Schœlcher was appointed minister and got to implement the project of his life – the abolition of slavery in French colonies. The law to that effect was passed in 1848. In Guadeloupe and Martinique Schœlcher is venerated as a true hero. The main streets are named after him, there are even towns, schools, museums and ships bearing his name. Schœlcher library is foremost known for its sophisticated architecture – it was initially created for the World Fare in Paris, subsequently disassembled and moved in pieces to Martinique, where it was rebuilt anew.

Must be quite a pleasure to spend time there drinking from the collective mind of the humanity. We also took a sip – in the form of free wifi.

Fort-de-France impressed me with its explosion of colours and its incredible colonial architecture with a French twist.

You can’t help noticing the traces of decay. The local legislature.

An abandoned cultural park. Giant posters next to it inform that the EU had financed its restoration – in 2007!

Somewhat menacing graffiti:

As we walked to the cultural park, we came across a municipal cemetery.

Paradoxically, a central bus station is organised around the cemetery. Buses arrive and depart like clockwork, electronic screens announce the timetable, brand new
A cemetery as a station of arrival and departure – I like the irony!

We visited the artisanal market:

I tried to decipher the Creole inscriptions using my French – sometimes with success!

The coconut punch is quite popular. Spices are everywhere too.

Especially cinnamon.

A very serious fortress, Fort-Saint-Louis, occupies the East of Fort-de-France.

The fortress is bordered by the La Savanne parque. In the middle of the park is the statue of Josephine, the wife of Napoleon. She was born in Martinique, but is not fondly remembered here – she was a supporter of slavery as her family owned a large estate here. Apparently she persuaded Napoleon to abandon his plans to abolish slavery.

To finish off the Martinique experience, we checked out the top local drink called “Ti’ punch”. It is rum with lime and sugar. In this heat even a small glass of course immediately makes you tipsy – that’s the idea!

Back to our ship!

The views of Martinique as we leave it behind.

All the posts about the cruise in the Caribbean:
Puerto Rico: Strange Spanish-speaking United States
A Denmark in the Antilles: Charlotte-Amalie of the US Virgin Islands
Blotch of Antigua with its 365 beaches of eternal sun
Colourful decay of overseas France: Martinique
Saint Lucia, the most authentic of the Caribbean islands
The last island of the Antilles: Grenada

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But the main treasure of Antigua are surely its beaches. They say there are 365 of them – one for each day of the year! It’s a kind of a long tale, of course, and yet it highlights the fact that virtually of all of the island’s shoreline is one endless beach. From above Antigua looks like a huge blotch of ink delineated from everywhere by virtually uninterrupted beaches. With our cruise ship acquaintance we headed to his favourite beach in the North of the island.


Welcome to Antigua and Barbuda!

Most Caribbean islands lack public transport of any use to the visitors – you are gently pushed towards using taxis. On Angitua you pay not per ride, but rather per person driven. We paid 4 dollars each one way.

The paradisiacal beach.

Even though it looks like paradise on Earth, in reality even to lie there for several hours was a challenge! Not only because personally I’m not a big fan of beaches. Truth is the sun on that particular beach was simply a killer. Even you lie under a sun umbrella, as we did! The sun is reflected in every direction from the water and the whiteness of the sand – so you can set the world record for burning your skin, 5 minutes is sufficient. On the other hand the water on that beach was shockingly cold. Even though the locals seemed to spend hours in it, as for me, I would start to freeze after five minutes max! Must be the steep decline to the ocean that’s responsible for this. Still in my mind it was really inferiour to the Dominican Republic, where I could spend days in the water as it was so pleasant.

On the way back I asked the driver to drop us out in the centre of St. John’s – the capital of Antigua and Barbuda. Normally the tourists would see it for 2 minutes on their way back to the ship. It was a holiday and so the town’s streets were empty and everything was closed. The town had a rather depressing feel, not least due to the obvious poverty.

My eye did come across a couple of elegant colonial mansions.

An interesting sidewalk detail – apparently meant to protect pedestrians from reckless drivers.

Some life did exist by the cruise ship quai. These gentlemen attack all the arriving tourists offering their polyvalent services at the prices you could imagine.

A Potemkine village for tourists.

Our ship in the background.

Again I photograph the island from the top deck in the rays of the setting sun.

St. John’s

Antigua the blotch

Blotches in the sky

All the posts about the cruise in the Caribbean:
Puerto Rico: Strange Spanish-speaking United States
A Denmark in the Antilles: Charlotte-Amalie of the US Virgin Islands
Blotch of Antigua with its 365 beaches of eternal sun
Colourful decay of overseas France: Martinique
Saint Lucia, the most authentic of the Caribbean islands
The last island of the Antilles: Grenada

The post Blotch of Antigua with its 365 beaches of eternal sun appeared first on Around the world in three years.

Actually we didn’t even notice how the ship left Puerto Rico. It was dark and we were dining and suddenly we realised that through we no longer see through the windows the evening lights of San Juan. Rather it was the darkness of the open ocean as we were sailing past it at a good speed. Waking up the next morning and looking out the window, it was an “It ain’t Kansas, Toto!” moment. It was clearly not Puerto Rico, this tropical island down below.


Charlotte-Amalie is the shoppers paradise. It’s a U.S. territory which however possesses special tax free regime for certain categories of goods. We weren’t too interested in that, and so we walked the shore promenade to the town – passing by necessity the shopping area.

Our ship can be seen from every point in the town. The cruising ships are of course the lifeline of this island and everything revolves around the ship and the visitors it brings when it’s in port.

The main street of Charlotte-Amalie. Diamonds are the top export article here (like all over Caribbean, as a matter of fact – Nassau in the Bahamas also had diamond shops all over the place). Experienced shoppers warn against buying diamond articles so far from home – changing, returning or repairing them becomes a big nuisance due to the distance, even if the guarantee is respected.

American Virgin islands have a curious history. For most of the colonial times these four islands in fact belonged to Denmark! There’s a colonial empire you wouldn’t first think of! Denmark gradually accumulated four islands, whereas the rest of the Virgin island group was controlled by Britain (and they remain British as British Virgin islands). Looking at the French Saint-Domingue (today’s Haiti) just nearby, the Danish tried to copy the efficient slavery planatations on Saint Thomas, but the soils here were too poor and so nothing came of it. Instead the island became the centre of piracy as well as the slave and rum trade. In 1917 Denmark sold the four islands to the Americans for a rather substantial amount at the time.

No one actually speaks Danish in Saint Thomas anymore, and yet the Danish streetnames have been preserved. Every streetcorner shows off a fancy “gade” ending.

On Norre Gade there’s also a Lutheran church:

Very picturesque!

Colourful pastor:

No less colourful parish members:

Of course the church is dutifully visited by Danish tourists:

The town occupies a steep hillside. We climbed the stairs up – this is the so-called 99 steps staircase:

And we met this rather indifferent beast on one of the side streets. A huge iguana!

Commemoration of liberty fighters:

The top local tourist attraction is the Blackbeard Castle, at the top of the Government Hill. We decided that climbing this little tower is not worth our ten dollars.

You could see our ships in the middle of the splendid bay anyway. In the meantime another ship came to join it.

We descend back down:

In the meantime a visit to the Pirate museum, which is more like a shop – like everything in Charlotte-Amalie:

The governor’s residence is a wonderful colonial mansion.

The view out from the mansion:

There’s “the place for everything” in Charlotte-Amalie!

We had lunch in a local restaurant – I took a traditional local dish called callaloo soup. Its main ingredients are spinach and ochre. If you add all the requisite local sauces, the result is mighty spicy!

And then – no limit to our delight! – a colibri came to visit! First time in my life I saw one.

It’s absolutely true that their wings move so fast that the human eye cannot perceive the movement – it appears as if the body of the bird is surrounded by a tiny blue and green cloud!!

A local acquaintance took us around the island in his car. First stop was Magens Bay, the most famous beach in the Virgin archipelago.

I was especially envious of the impressive yachts docked in the distance in the Bay.

The pelicans would repeatedly land on the water right next to us as we swam.

Magens Bay is on the North side of the island, across from Charlotte-Amalie which is in the South. On the way back we visited a luxury hotel in the hills.

The views of the island from the various lookout points:

We walk back to the ship. The ship normally leaves port rather early – at 4 or 5pm. I’m not sure what is the reason for such a schedule – cleraly it’s not the distance to be covered, as on the day when we only needed to go 100 kilometres we sailed out at 4pm anyway. I suspect the small Caribbean towns are considered unsafe after dark by some overly protective security officials.

The roof of the ship offers a great opportunity to make photos. I made quite a few on that day as we sailed in the sunset.

I wonder who is the owner of this one. The name is Infinity, George Town.

Charlotte-Amalie is now firmly behind us.

All the posts about the cruise in the Caribbean:
Puerto Rico: Strange Spanish-speaking United States
A Denmark in the Antilles: Charlotte-Amalie of the US Virgin Islands
Blotch of Antigua with its 365 beaches of eternal sun
Colourful decay of overseas France: Martinique
Saint Lucia, the most authentic of the Caribbean islands
The last island of the Antilles: Grenada

The post A Denmark in the Antilles: Charlotte-Amalie of the US Virgin Islands appeared first on Around the world in three years.

Puerto Rico is officially referred to as a “commonwealth”. The population of the commonwealth by now exceeds that of many states. To be fair, Puerto Ricans themselves are not decided about what they want to be. The three options being eternally debated are independence, statehood and status quo. Puerto Ricans enjoy most of the rights of US citizens, with the exception of being able to vote for President and to elect Senators. As a candidate, Obama supported the idea of conducting a referendum to set the final status. However in order to approve such a referendum, the agreement of U.S. Congress is necessary – and that’s missing.

Much like Hawaii, Puerto Rico receives large subsidies from the mainland. Its special status also allows it to create a special business and tax regime, and as a result most pharmaceuticals made in USA are produced right here on the island. Obviously lots of American tourists come here as well and support the local economy with their dollars.

Everybody speaks Spanish in San Juan, and so you get a strange feeling of walking around Spanish-speaking United States. I guess in 20 years California and Texas will feel similar (parts of Miami and New York already do). The currency is the dollar and the prices are very American too – feels very different compared to Colombia, where I’d been just prior. On per capita basis, Puerto Rico is poorer than the poorest U.S. state (Mississippi), however it’s richer than any Latin American country.

San Juan from the air. Old San Juan is the peninsula in the centre of the image.

Like a collection of postcards, San Juan is incredibly picturesque.

The Cathedral:

One of the multitudes of felines that participate in the special airs of this city.

The fact that Old San Juan is surrounded by water from every side makes it particularly atmospheric. The Western promenade.

The historical Main Gate of the city – facing West. In the colonial times the prominent visitors would use this very gates to enter the city.

The so-called Paseo de las Princesas:

The North-Western tip of the peninsula that is Old San Juan is occupied by an ancient Spanish fortress. You can see it in the background here.

Separated from the city by green lawns:

Looking back at the city.

The gates of the fortress:

Very impressive:

In colonial times San Juan possessed an enormous strategic importance. For the ships coming from Europe or from Africa, Puerto Rico was the first major island where the reserves of food and water could be replenished. Furthermore San Juan has an excellent deep natural harbour. Hence it was always seen as the key to the whole Caribbean. For the Spanish Empire to defend San Juan was the top strategic priority, whereas the other colonial empires saw it as a desired prize. Various invaders tried to capture it many times. The Dutch came the closest and only by miracle the Spaniards managed to resist their siege. In the end nobody ever took San Juan and the Spanish only lost it in modern times as their empire disintegrated.

The towers of the fortress control the ocean and the straights for many miles in every direction.

Inside the fortress:

As we happened to be in San Juan during Catholic Easter, of course we didn’t miss a chance to see the ceremonies on Easter Sunday:

A very pleasant café by the cruise ship harbour. It was no accident that I came to San Juan. In fact I came up with a somewhat crazy idea to take a cruise around the Caribbean. I’d never been on a cruise before – and to get this kind of a new experience was an added motivation. A cruise also happens to be the most economical way to visit several Caribbean islands in one go – as it is very difficult to hop from one island to the next due to virtually non-existent transport links. So in the end I found a very interesting offer from Royal Caribbean with departure out of San Juan.

But of course since we were in Puerto Rico, we had to see its main attraciton – which is National Park El Yunque, famous for its rainforest.

We went on an organised tour – quite a dissappointment, honestly speaking. The promised trek in the rainforest was ridiculously short. We did get to see a termit mound:

And generally soaked in the rainforest atmosphere:

The key of the program – a visit to a tower commanding the views of the mountains and forests. 98 steps lead up:

Practically half of Puerto Rico can be seen from there:

Finally, the El Yunque waterfall:

All the posts about the cruise in the Caribbean:
Puerto Rico: Strange Spanish-speaking United States
A Denmark in the Antilles: Charlotte-Amalie of the US Virgin Islands
Blotch of Antigua with its 365 beaches of eternal sun
Colourful decay of overseas France: Martinique
Saint Lucia, the most authentic of the Caribbean islands
The last island of the Antilles: Grenada

The post Puerto Rico: Strange Spanish-speaking United States appeared first on Around the world in three years.

Most Bahamians are black, as you would realise boarding my flight. The Bahamas is not a poor country though – on the contrary, prices in Nassau are very substantial, and hotels in mid-price category are nowhere in sight. They’re actually near impossible to find! Eventually I discovered a guesthouse kept by an elderly Greek couple that cannot be booked online – you can only call and shout for half an hour hoping that they’ll finally hear you and note your arrival! But it was a nice and homey place.

Nassau lives to the rhythm of the cruise ship. A giant vessel or two enters port every day, and for the hours it’s there Nassau is like an ant mound, its Main Street shops are full of tourists, restaurants serve kilograms of overpriced American fare to American visitors, museums are open and the town lives. As night falls and the ship leaves port, all of a sudden a silence reigns, everything appears closed, and a rare empty restaurant boasts of one or two visitors at most.

The main sight of Nassau is probably the Pirate Museum.


Or so I decided towards the end of my stay in the Bahamian capital. Initially I had no intention of going there – hearing as it was supposed to be superficial family entertainment. And so it is – and isn’t. It was actually fascinating and engaging to learn about the times of the pirates, and of course I’d read all the Captain Blood books in my childhood and so the seeds fell on fertile soil.

In 17-18th centuries Nassau was one of the primary centres of piracy. A pirate saying from those days claimed that whenever a pirate sleeps, he dreams not of paradise, but of Nassau. The port of Nassau is rather shallow, so it can easily accommodate light pirate schooners, while it’s impassible for the large vessels of imperial fleets – a perfect place for a hideout.

You see a pirate city first – and as you pass certain window, a sudden cry startles you, you hear a prayer or a sound of moving feet. Fun!!

Afterwards it’s onto the ship – or inside it, rather. The pirates’ life was not easy. Food was scarce. The provisions would be renewed in case of a successful attack – a rather rare occurrence. The medicine standards were of course extrmely law – oftentimes the cook was also the doctor. The pirates signed a contract which stipulated every member’s share. The division of spoils was very democratic, the captain rarely got even two standard shares – usually it was only 1.5.

The pirates’ way of punishing the breaker of pirate law. Leaving the culprit on an isolated island with only some water.

Tolerated by England, pirates thrived for a while, hunting the Spanish galleons. As the British colonies in North America gained economic weight, pirates started to threaten them – and Britain promptly laid end to piracy. A governor with a fleet was sent to the Bahamas, and the British ships efficiently pursued pirates in various corners of the Atlantic, killing or executing most.

The first governor of the Bahamas, who played a key role in destroying piracy.

Using this iron concoction the hung pirates were demonstrated to the populace. The body was covered in tar and so it could hang for a year.

The first Bahamian coat of arms. The motto says “Expulsis piratis, restituta commercia”. Pirates gone, commerce restored.

Let’s walk around Nassau just to get a feel of the cityscape. The main street and the lifeline of the city – the cruise ship.

One more ship from the boardwalk at night.

The main square – including the Parliament and the statue of Queen Victoria.

Bay Street – that’s where all the tourist shops and restaurants are. The Bahamas use the Bahamian dollar, equal to the U.S. dollar. Both are circulating at the same time. Indeed I only saw a local banknote on the third day of my stay!

A typical house:

A very curious Museum of Slavery and Liberation on the main street – this pink building.

Most slaves brought to the Bahamas were either from yoruba tribe in Nigeria, or from Congo. The related slaves were purposefully dispersed during the trip over the ocean. And yet in the Bahamas the two communities assembled anew and became antagonists. In our days though these differences have disappeared.

The Museum is appropriately proud of African heritage. A lot of stands educate you about the high level of development of African states before the arrival of the Europeans. I think it would give a very strong new perspective to someone who doesn’t know much about the history of slavery.

The Columbus statue in front of the Government. You go up and down all the time in Nassau – lots of hills.

I climbed one of the hills to visit the local Cathedral. A view of the local Hilton, the centre of local glamour.

The Cathedral – the old part is being restored currently.

The new part in the back:

Looking through the glass:

Walking around Nassau during the day you feel totally safe. As night falls though a certain unpleasant sensation sets in, especially as you walk into groups of rather shady characters. In a shuttle bus on the radio I heard a report that two armed men had just attacked a shop and shot the shopkeeper. The Bahamas have a high murder rate. The owner of my hotel without hesitation advised not to go “upstreet” at night.

The Art Gallery by the Catherdral was closed.

There are three fortresses in Nassau – one faintly crazy governor erected all three. Nobody ever attacked Nassau in actual fact. I climbed one of the fortresses, Fort Fincastle, that encloses the highest point in the city.

It’s plan is a triangle.

How it looks in practice:

The entrance fee is $1.08. Prices like this are everywhere in Nassau. The reason: on 1 January a new VAT tax was introduced, at 7.5%. And so the locals simply add the VAT to the existing price – no matter how clumsy it looks. The postcards too cost $1.08.

The top of the Fort:

The water tower:

And the view of the city. On that day there were two cruise ships in port.

A very impressive construction next to the fort is called the Queen’s Stairs. It was built inside the rock to mark the abolition of slavery during the reign of Queen Victoria.

Quite an unexpected sight in a Caribbean town!

It is rare for visitors to Nassau to stay downtown. Most of them would come to the exclusive resorts, the most famous of which is on the so-called Paradise Island. Half of that island is occupied by a megaresort Atlantis. The island is connected to Nassau by a bridge and for 4 dollars you can jump into a shuttle bus to reach it. This is the Atlantis as seen from the bridge:

I walked into the Atlantis. You can visit all kinds of aqua parks there, tickets start at 100 dollars. I opted to skip.

A couple of more hotels on the island:

The marina in front of the Atlantis is full of glamorous yachts:

But my goal was to see the so-called Cloisters. It is an actual monastery that was moved in 1930-s from France piece by piece by a local enthusiast. Surprising and enchanting to find it here.

The view onto the sea from the Cloisters.

At that moment a fashion shoot was performed inside the Cloisters.

Through the garden inside the island you get to another exclusive hotel (closed for simpletons).

The garden is he backdrop for the statues of the favourite figures of the enthusiast who created it all. This is president Roosevelt (in the background).

The discoverer Livingstone:

Usually in the Bahamas you’d bathe on the beach of your own hotel. As my guesthouse was downtown, I decided to visit a city beach. It’s several km to the West and you go there using a jitney – a special Bahamian local minibus driven as a rule by a Rastafarian with long dreads and a portrait of Haile Selassie on the windshield. Entrance to the beach:

Someone was building castles in the sand very recently:

Perhaps this couple?

An exhibition of sea shells:

Atlantis in the distance:

Private boats passing by:

And a cruise ship slowly sailing to its next destination:

Two words on local cuisine. The main ingredient here is conch – it is a part of everything. For example I tried out a fresh conch salad. Very fresh indeed – they were raw – simply cut and sprinkled with spicy and bitter sauce. Very tasty, though it was a bit frightening to eat such an obviously fresh fare!

Conch fritters is the most popular local starter. Conches are cut and baked in dough. Having eaten 6 out 8 fritters which were my starter, I realised I’m done and the main dish is out of the question. Caribbean dishes are WAY too large – every time!

I also tried the third local preparation of sea conch – the main one – but neglected to make a photo. I did take a pic of a typical local cocktail – HUGE! Lots of rum in it too.

The traditional Fish Fry market is to the West of the centre. It consists of lots of small booths where the locals gather and consume sea conch dishes. I arrived there on a weekday and the booths were closed – but a nearby restaurant was open and so I visited it.

One more future Bahamian dish looks at me through the aquarium wall:

The post Nassau – the capital of pirates, cruise ships and conches appeared first on Around the world in three years.

That is how I feel now that I am back in Europe, as I look back at my trip around Latin America and the Caribbean. So many places discovered, so many new (and old) people met, so many impressions and events… and all of that in such a short timespan!

Sometimes I think back about my days before this crazy two-year-long trip and it feels to me as if all of it was in another life. I have changed so much, experienced so much and learnt so much. And simply time-wise it feels like a temporal abyss separates me from that day in 2013 when I left Brussels.

Certainly it was the most intense period of my life.

As for you, my dear blog, I must apologise to you that I haven’t spent much time with you in these last months. You are probably well and truly upset with me. Yes, other causes have consumed my energy. I could probably write 25 posts about all the places I visited during that time. And in the back of my mind I still have that idea, that need – to write about these places. Now that I will not write about them day to day, it will be a retrospective look. But how surreal and magical it feels to take that look.

The post Taking stock of one mad trip appeared first on Around the world in three years.

Right now I am in Costa Rica. However my trip around Central America started in the Dominican Republic. I took a flight from Brussels to Santo Domingo, the little-visited capital. Which happens to be the oldest city in the Americas. Columbus himself was a governor, as were his brother and his son Diego. This is where the Spanish conquest of the Americas was planned and executed: the expeditions to Mexico, Central America and further South all started here. Due to the wind pattern in the Atlantic Santo Domingo was an obligatory stop for sailing ships both on the way from Europe and on the way back. Santo Domingo lost its importance after Sir Francis Drake, at the time a British-sponsored pirate, took it and looted it thoroughly in 1583. The centre of gravity of the Spanish Americas moved irreversibly towards the continent.

Yes, by the way, if you ever wondered where the name of the Dominican Republic comes from – very easy! The Republic is named after the capital city, and the capital city takes its name from the Catholic saint – and the founder of the monastic order which used to be rather powerful here.

The Columbus park is the heart of the colonial town – Zona Colonial, as it’s known here.


Behind his back – the first Cathedral of the Americas.

The meaning of the name “Columbus” is “dove”.

The Conde street heads West from the Columbus park. It’s the main street of colonial Santo Domingo, always full of life. For a Western-looking person it’s also always full of rather unpleasant attention from various shady characters.

Alcázar de Colón (Columbus’ Castle) on the Northern Plaza de Espana. Columbus’ son Diego lived here as the Vice-Roy of the New World. The Spanish King got scared that Diego would declare himself emperor of the Americas and recalled him back to Spain. The building henceforth belonged to the heirs of Columbus. Surprisingly, he has numerous direct male-line descendants, some of whom rank among the Spanish nobles.

The balcony inside the Alcázar. You can almost feel the heat and the humidity.

Diego Columbus might have eaten behind this table.

From Alcázar’s balcony you have the overview of the Ozama river. The river was the key reason for why the Spanish founded their settlement here. In the distance you can make out the Columbus Lighthouse – an immense concrete monolith in the shape of the cross, which is supposed to hold his earthly remains. The light projectors placed on the roof are supposed to draw a giant cross in the sky. It’s a running joke in Santo Domingo that when the cross of light is in the sky, all of Santo Domingo sits in darkness – the electricity is too scarce here.

From the balcony of Alcázar. Plaza de Espana.

Motorbikes everywhere! Feels like Naples with its Vespas.

The original wall to the North of the Alcázar.

The railway bridge over the Ozama river:

The famous calle Atarazana, the restaurant street that limits the square from the North. Actually right now most of Zona Colonial is being renovated, streets are covered with building sites, so not too many visitors in the restaurants.

In the residence of the Spanish governor today is found Museo de Las Casas Reales, the best museum in the country.

The audience hall – although the Spanish kings never came here during the empire.

This is supposed to represent the conversion of the Indians to Christianity. To me it looks rather like an S&M orgy. I wonder what the painter was smoking.

Yet another key building, the National Pantheon. Not a single name of those enterred here was familiar to me. So I felt like I was in a make-believe Pantheon of a make-believe country.

Of course it reminded me of the Natheonal Pantheon in Paraguay, where it also represents the overcompensation of a wounded nationalism.

Very serious.

Let’s enter the Cathedral:

The main altarpiece:

In 1583 as the English took Santo Domingo, they used the Cathedral as their residence for the time that they remained in the city to loot it. According to the legend, Francis Drake himself slept in this chapel by the altar.

Wooden monks all around the building:

Lions in the Cathedral’s garden.

The post The oldest city in the Americas: Santo Domingo appeared first on Around the world in three years.

But in the case of Kuwait there is no ostensible hyper compensation. The Kuwait City centre is strictly functional, there are no new eye catching buildings that you would expect from a country risen from the ashes. Obviously this is not a question of money. Rather it is the conservative culture that prescribes focusing on the private space, hiding all wealth from jealous eyes of an outsider. Only recently the government took a decision to build a proper national museum and to renovate the Kuwait Towers – more on that later.

The first glimpse of Kuwait from a plane window:


The plane prepares for landing over the centre of Kuwait City.

My visit started from the broad main avenue of Kuwait City, simply because my hotel happened to be located right on it. This broad street leads straight to the roundabout in front of the Seif Palace – the residence of the Emir. On the right we can see the Main Mosque.

The Seif Palace. The guidebook insists you cannot photograph or even approach it, but I did walk in front of the main gate and nobody seemed to mind.

All the Gulf cities are proud of their waterfronts – which are always called Corniche.

The nerve centre of the Corniche in Kuwait is the Souq Shark complex. The cluster of shops is separated from the rest of the city by this marina. Behind the Souq is the Gulf.

On the left from the marina is a modern building of the Fish Market, considered perhaps the main tourist attraction in the city. Not according to the locals though: they consider their immense shopping malls as the main objects of pride.

I did visit the Fish Market.

Of course it is nothing like the Tsukiji market in Tokyo, and yet it was fascinating in its own way – it is a life that is fully authentic, not meant for a consumption of a tourist – and indeed my presence evoked surprise.

On the other hand as you visit Souq Shark, you wouldn’t know you are in Kuwait, or anywhere really. Well actually there was one exotic aspect. There is a mosque located right inside the mall, and the toilets are combined with the mosque – they also serve for ritual ablution. It took me a bit of time to figure it all out as I entered.

Very few visitors ever go to Kuwait City for fun, this any tourist information is scarce. I did find out that there was a Contemporary Art Museum – and decided to give it a go, seeing how Dubai art galleries were a complete surprise. The museum is very close to Souq Shark. As an aside, the emptiness we see on this photo is generally very characteristic for Kuwait City – even at the height of winter, when the temperatures are perfectly friendly.

The museum was a clear disappointment. Seeing as I was the only visitor…

Only a sleepy guard was playing with his phone among the “masterpieces” from 1970s.

This is apparently the most famous object in the collection.

Kuwait City’s major landmark are the Kuwait Towers. They were built in 1970s at the time when the rivers of oil were flowing out of the country bringing in the unheard of prosperity and nobody knew the tragic future that was coming.

I decided to try to visit the Towers. The information regarding their status was contradictory: some sources said they are closed for renovations, others hinted that you can visit if you go to a restaurant inside. Impressive construction, isn’t it?

Despite all my attempts, I could not get in – the Towers were closed, surrounded by a fence and the guards resolutely refused to let me in under any pretext.

My quest to find some crowds in this ghost city finally bore fruit when I entered the traditional Al-Mubarakia souk.

In the way as the Sultan is omnipresent in Oman, in Kuwait the portraits of its rulers are absolutely everywhere. Interestingly here there are always two portraits: the ruling Emir and the heir to the throne. My understanding is that this is done to exclude any doubt as to the line of the inheritance. The Kuwaiti dynasty is comprised of two branches which separated 3 or 4 generations ago. The throne has been jumping from one branch to the other, but there are no precise rule which is a recipe for potential problems. Hence this insistence to always picture the two together.

Another landmark that you can see from any point in the centre is the TV Tower. Here it is between the souk’s buildings.

Here it is among the new blocks of the Kuwait National Museum that is being constructed currently.

It’s forbidden to take photos inside the National Museum – perhaps due to its obvious bad state. Indeed there is not much to see there – it is a poor copy to the surprising Bahrein Museum and nothing like the stylish Bait az-Zubair in Muscat.

The traditional Sadu House next to the Kuwait Museum.

The national dish of Kuwait – machboos. It is chicken with rice prepared in stew with spices and .

An unusual milky almond drink that the waiter advised me to try – in the same restaurant.

And of course I tasted the local fish sbaidi:

Accompanied by a wonderful fruit juice:

On the evening of my last day there I set out to find another museum – et’s called it the War Museum. It is quite impossible to identify its formal name. The internet offers the options “Kuwait House of National Works”, “Kuwait House of National Memorial Museum” and any combination of those words. Even more of a challenge was to locate it on the map. It’s not marked on any of the internet map. The Lonely Planet map is incorrect. So I was relying on a description in the style of “walk a wide street, take a third rune left and cross a field” etc left on a web forum by someone who managed to find it. It worked! 40 minutes on foot from the centre, mostly along the Corniche. I passed the Kuwait National Assembly on the way:

And a few parks right on the waterfront. These immigrant workers from South-East Asia playing basketball immediately reminded me the massive basketball match staged by Vietnamese immigrants that I witnessed in Barcelona. A gym is placed right next to the basketball court under open sky and is full of bodybuilders. Obviously it rains here often…

Finally I reach the National Memorial Museum (let’s call it thus):

Yet again I am the only visitor. The first thing you see:

The exhibition is rather creatively built. As you move through the space in the dark, various scenes are lit next to you and the text is played through the dynamics. The start is very peaceful: the traditional port of Kuwait in 19th century:

Very quickly we reach 1990. The Iraqi tanks of the terrible tyrant (no shortage of such characterisations here) occupy Kuwait City:

Suddenly alarms start squealing, the explosions overpower you, ominous red lights are flashing:

Iraqis jump from the sky:

Heroic Kuwaitis do their best to defend their country from the aggressor. Iraqis shoot them point blank. The scenes are very strong and you can’t help being affected emotionally.

This is the stage where the Iraqis retreat. At the orders of Saddam they lit all the Kuwaiti oil wells. There was so much smoke that for several months until all the fires were extinguished you couldn’t see the sun.

How Kuwaitis feel about Saddam.

In my trip around the Gulf I visited four countries: Bahrain, UAE, Oman and Kuwait. To my surprise, these countries turned out to be very different. Bahrain is the historical key to the Gulf, nowadays an American base that shocks its neighbours by liberal fashions. The Emirates are an immense technological gamble that hides some rather pleasant surprises. Oman is a fairytale kingdom of friendly people. And superrich Kuwait is only now starting to get over its grief. This unexpected diversity was for me perhaps the biggest surprise.

The post In the tragic oil kingdom of Kuwait appeared first on Around the world in three years.

And surely the most important concentration of the urban activity is in the souk, a covered market, which is located right next to the Mutrah port of Muscat. The souk has several entrances. This is the parade entrance, from the Mutrah waterfront:


As I was staying in the valley connecting Mutrah to Ruwi, my preferred entrance was the back entrance of the souk.

This is it:

Broad street-like passages inside the souk:

The salesmen shout at you insistently trying to lure into their shop:

I got lost in the streets of the souk. Normally I don’t get lost, but although the streets here look straight, in reality they curve at imperceptible angles and soon enough you lose your sense of orientation. I tried to find the exit using my phone’s GPS, and still it took me a while to get out! It smells there like in a church – frankincense everywhere, the glory of Oman.

This is the entrance of a small mosque inside the souk.

What do they sell in the souk?

The spices are the key attraction. Oman used to be the world’s capital of the trade in such spices as myrrh and above all frankincense. The presents offered by the Three Kings to baby Jesus were myrrh, frankincense and gold. Frankincense was forgotten in the West for several centuries before being rediscovered during the Crusades.

The streets that leads towards my hotel:

A barber shop on the way:

And my hotel shining in the night:

The next day I set off to visit arguably Muscat’s top attraction – the Sultan Qaboos mosque. It is some 16 km from the centre. The taxis in Muscat are apparently controlled by a monopoly as the prices are ridiculously high – and so it was more efficient to actually buy a ticket for a Hop On Hop Off style bus (something I never normally do, repelled by the sheer superficiality of this formula). In Muscat I did make an exception and in the morning took the red bus in the direction of the mosque. In truth I did have to cover a stretch of the way by taxi as the bus actually does not go all the way – despite there being advertisements to the contrary. A rather modest entrance gate of the mosque:

The fountains in the entrance courtyard:

The proud mosque:

First internal courtyard:

As if the walls were reflected in the water. The absolute cleanliness of the mosque is constantly ensured by the army of (obviously immigrant) cleaners.

The second internal courtyard:

The minaret:

In fact the first hall you enter on your visit is the women’s praeyr room. The Muslims pray separately.

The main prayer room – of course, meant for the men. Rather impressive, I must say!

The huge candelabra famously made from Swarovski crystals.

Mihrab – the niche that indicates the direction of Mecca. A preacher would preach in front of it looking towards the audience.

I happened to visit during an interesting spectacle – out of nowhere this strange spider-like machine appeared and started to reach up towards the lamp. Obviously it lifts up the men who would replace the light bulbs.

We observed the process holding our breath.

And a couple of other observations from the top of the bus as we drove around Muscat. The mountain roads that connect various parts of the capital:

A super modern opera building built in the Qurm area at the whim of the Sultan – a rather exotic hobby for an Arab ruler! Various world opera stars do visit from time to time – no doubt drawn by the magic of the location.

A rare public beach in the Qurm area:

Business area of Ruwi. The buses from Dubai terminate here:

A random car as seen from the bus window. As you can see, the beloved Sultan Qaboos is on the back window:

My bus tour finished after the dark. The Mutrah waterfront in the night:

I had my dinner in one of the restaurants from the previous photo. Oman is a sea country and so incredibly tasty fish is on offer. This one is called hammur and is unbelievably tender.

Pomegranate juice to accompany the fish:

The Omani national dish is in fact shuwaa – meat specially cooked on a slow fire for two days. I tried it in Ubar, a traditional restaurant in the Qurm area.

Their signature dessert is a frankincense ice cream! What a strange idea.

And to top it off, a wonderful date smoothie that I tried in a traditional café well hidden inside the souk.

The post Greater Muscat appeared first on Around the world in three years.

The very name of this exotic sultanate has always seemed an epitome of fairytale. Closed off to all visitors for so long, it seemed to hold endless secrets somewhere among the shifting sands of Arabia. Visiting it seemed an impossible feat, like going into a fairytale. Little did I know…

Oman was not always a hermit of nations. In 17-18th centuries the Sultanate of Oman was a dominant seafaring empire which controlled the Indian Ocean and possessed a network outposts in an arch stretching from Mozambique all the way to India. Oman successfully held off and defeated the Portuguese and only in 19th century did the British and the French gradually subdue it. In Arabia only the Oman’s ruler is titled “sultan” – which is the most important title in the East. (The king of Saudi Arabia does call himself “the guardian of Mecca and Medina”, which is more prestigious from the religious point of view, the word “king” used to translate it into Western languages being a kind of a misnomer.) Moreover, the Oman’s dynasty is by far the oldest of the Gulf dynasties. Thus when the Arab rulers gather, the sultan of Oman possesses a special weight among them – rather like the sultan of Brunei among the Muslim rulers of South East Asia. In the case of Oman though the historic importance is not supported by economic might – among the Gulf states Oman has long been the poorest, endowed with the least oil. Yemen is poorer still but it’s not in the Gulf. In recent times Oman has embarked on an energised development track, to a great extent inspired by the current sultan Qaboos, a unique figure.

I had considered flying to Oman from Dubai or combining it with Bahrain or Kuwait on a sort of an air triangle. Soon I realised that it was not worth it price-wise, and then I came across information that Dubai is connected to Oman by a regular bus! Which is ridiculously cheap – about 10 euros. Actually taking a physical bus seemed a lot more interesting too. And so I did -not with some difficulties, as the office of the Oman’s company that provides the link is well hidden in Dubai’s Deira, and there is no bus station as such. Soon though I find myself on the bus wondering if the border guards in Oman are aware of the new rules freeing me from the visa requirement?

No problem at all! Crossing the border was quick as a flash. The bus did have to stop three times, with intervals of several kilometres – first on the UAE border, then Oman border guard, then the Oman customs. On the last stop all the bags had to be removed from the bus and lined up for a friendly dog to sniff. Last time I went through such an old fashioned check was in Paraguay customs as I took an endless bus over Chaco from Bolivia.

The bus reaches Muscat about 10pm at night. The smartphones have transformed the way we travel – as I’d downloaded a map of Muscat, even in the dark of the night I easily found my hotel, which was some 20 minutes walk from the bus stop. The next morning a set off for a walk around Old Muscat.

The geography of Muscat is rather extraordinary. The capital of Oman is built on the ocean coast among the hills. The hills separate it into many valleys which historically used to be separate settlements, and to get from one to the other you need to drive several km. Therefore Muscat stretches along the coast for some 30 km. Its major areas are Old Muscat, Mutrah, Ruwi and Qurm. The sultan lives in Old Muscat, surrounded by fortresses, museums and administrative buildings, but no hotels are located there. The hotels are either in the business centre of Ruwi, the touristic and port centre of Mutrah or in posh expat area of Qurm. I stayed in a middle range Mutrah Hotel about midway between Ruwi and Mutrah.

On my first morning in Muscat I passed through the old souk to the Mutrah Corniche. First sighting of the sea:


Suddenly the seafront opens in front of you in all its glory:

Dolphins are the symbol of Muscat. You often see them – as a sculpture and sometimes even live in the sea!

One of the many fortresses that the Portuguese built in and around Muscat. They took this regions for a short time at a time of Oman’s weakness. Uniquely the sultanate managed to rebuild its strength and to expel the Europeans! Stopping the expansion of the West for some 300 years.

As I walk on the waterfront in the direction of Old Muscat – some 4 km – I look back at the Mutrah port:

A huge entertainment complex is finished off with a giant incense burner on the top. No coincidence – the incenses are the famous product of Oman. You have to visit the park to climb the lookout, however to the left there was an open guard tower that I headed for.

The views from there over the surrounding rocks:

And back at Mutrah:

Finally after about 2 hours leisurely walk in the sun – the gates of Old Muscat.

You can climb the gates and take a look at the old city:

Actually there is a museum upstairs, but I never managed to catch it open. The doors look intriguing:

The main draw of Old Muscat is surely the Sultan Qaboos Palace. A first look taken from the main roundabout:

The palace was commissioned by Qaboos in 1970s, which is reflected in its retro inspired architecture. The previous sultan, the father of Qaboos, was an arch conservative. He banished all traces of modernity from Oman – no cars, no modern medicine, not even sunglasses were allowed to enter. Very few foreigners could visit the country. Finally in a bloodless palace coup Qaboos overthrew his father and embarked on a program of reforms – a very gradual one, but transformative nonetheless. This is quite a contrast to the Emirates which have embraced modernity with seemingly insatiable thirst, as well as to Saudi Arabia that seems proud of its backwardness. The Sultan is extremely popular. He is not married and has no children – it is an open secret that he is gay. Nevertheless he enjoys full respect and authority in his sultanate. He will probably be succeeded by one of his removed cousins in the male line.

The palace is therefore a signature building. For the Omanis in 1970s, it must have looked like a UFO that landed in the middle of Old Muscat.

The exotic coat of arms of Oman, omnipresent in the country. I think it’s awesome. In the middle is the khanjar, a traditional Omani bent dagger.

Looking back at the palace square. The Omanis are quite different from the other Arabs. Not only do they follow their own version of Islam, the so-called Ibadi faith. They are much less corroded by the wealth and the extreme consumption boom. These are proud but very friendly and hospitable people. You notice it on every turn – they greet you on the streets with a smile, they stop to help you find your way – no money needed, just so. They are also very handsome – you can see the mix of the Arabic and the black features. No surprise, given that for centuries Oman ruled East Africa!

After marvelling at the palace, I headed for Bait az-Zubair museum. Very tastefully curated, more like an art gallery, it speaks of various aspects of Omani life and culture.

But I liked the most the museum café, choke full of various art books – extremely well chosen at that! I must admit I got stuck in that café for some four hours. It is situated in an old Omani house and of course offers a great latte. But the books! The contrast between the exotic city and a cutting edge art literature couldn’t be starker.

As the museum café closed, I discovered that the darkness had already fallen. I walked back. The Sultan’s palace by night:

A mosque next to the palace:

Another Portuguese fortress, right above the palace. Fascinating to roam the empty streets.

A mysterious looking palace from the Old Muscat seafront:

Another fortress.

Through a tunnel in the hill I returned to the Mutrah seafront and to my hotel. The next morning I was to discover the rest of Muscat.

The post Old Muscat, the fairytale capital of Oman appeared first on Around the world in three years.

Probably the most unexpected find turned out to be an incredible richness and variety of contemporary art galleries. I’d read about at least two clusters of galleries – one in the industrial Al Quoz area close to Noor Bank metro stop; the other in the Dubai International Financial Center area (metro Emirates Towers).

I started in Al Quoz, from its most well known gallery called Courtyard. The eponymous courtyard is surrounded by a whole series of galleries. The main gallery and the passage to the courtyard:


I was inspired by this book exchange rack located right next to the entrance to Courtyard. The rules are simple: you can take any book on the condition that you leave any other book. Nowadays the books as physical objects are so omnipresent that to me it seems unreasonable to keep books in your house unless you reread them often. As for me I would gladly exchange most of my books for some other new ones. Et voilà! (Actually I have sold most of my books to a second-hand bookshop in Brussels before setting off on this trip.)

I also visited the Third Line gallery, featuring an interesting exhibition of an Iranian metal artist. The curator stroke a conversation with me that I found utterly fascinating – this was the moment that I realised the contemporary art scene in Dubai was something special. He directed me to the Al Serkal centre, which was close by. I didn’t know yet that Al Serkal is a former industrial estate transformed into a huge gallery complex – there are about 20-25 galleries. Quite unbelievable! I spent there at least four hours and only left because the galleries closed at 7pm.

One of the exhibitions – by a very left-wing female artist. This particular artwork uses air balloons in the sand, painted in traditional colours of Arab flags, as the representation of the Arab countries. Indeed the number of the balloons corresponds to the number of currently existing separate Arab countries. The artwork strives to highlight the ephemeral nature of the Arabic statehood, the lack of true state identity as opposed to the ethnic or tribal identity. (Indeed the instantaneous success of ISIS seems to confirm this point.)

I liked Al Serkal so much that some days later I went there again. This time I would visit each and every gallery. I spent a lot of time in their café too – called A4.

The café is a wonderfully comfortable work space and features two levels. On the second level there are endless books that you are free to peruse. Some hours later I woke up from the book-induced hypnosis to discover they’re closing!

The other gallery cluster is located in the financial centre of Dubai. The galleries there are way more mainstream. As I was passing this arch on my way there, I was trying to imagine the life of the people who work there – most of them are Western expats. I could also be working in a building like that. What would it feel like?

About 10 galleries surround a space enclosed between the DIFC skyscrapers. The Art Sawa gallery:

I especially liked Opera Art Gallery.

One more relatively little visited institution in Dubai is the Sheikh Mohammed Centre for Cultural Understanding.

In the mornings they serve the so-called Emirati breakfast. As you sample traditional food, you get a chance to talk to real Emiratis, who also participate in the breakfast. Quite a rare chance.

One of the things you would least expect in Dubai (or anywhere in the world for that matter) is a North Korean restaurant. And yet there is one in the Deira area. There is only one other NK restaurant outside of North Korea. It is located in Rangoon, the capital of Myanmar. When I was in Rangoon I had plans to visit it, but as it’s located quite outside of the centre, finally I had no time to get there. But this time in Dubai I promised myself to find it!

The experience is seriously bizarre. The waitresses are all dressed in the same folk costumes and to an untrained eye they look quite identical. The menu is a fantastic mixture of English and Korean words. The restaurant’s walls are covered with communist-style large paintings. In one of the corners there is a TV that is blaring over and over the same short propagandistic movie. In another corner there is a souvenir corner – you can buy cheap-looking flags and key holders with North Korean symbols. The whole time I was there the restaurant was practically empty – there was only one other couple. At some point as they were preparing to pay their bill, one of the waitresses approached them with a huge harmonica and with startling efficiency started playing a Russian folk song that I know by heart. The other waitress clapped her hands enthusiastically the whole time. It was like a parody – only it was real.

It is not allowed to make photos in the restaurant, so I only made some quick snaps. I ordered the most expensive item on the menu – the Mount Kumgang mushrooms. For the waitresses it was a shock. They asked me incredulously: do you know what that is? The mushrooms did not impress me too much.

I simply had to photograph their bathroom. Have you ever seen a washing machine in a restaurant bathroom? Me neither.

As I was leaving, I snapped one of the bored waitresses in the empty restaurant.

Obviously I enjoy discovering various unusual eateries. In Dubai I went to rather interesting ones – a Filipino, a Pakistani and a Kenyan restaurants. But perhaps the most exotic (after North Korea) was a Yemeni eatery. It is called Al Tawasol and is also located in Deira. Supposedly it’s the best place in Dubai to check the traditional Yemeni food mandi. As you enter, you get to choose between two spaces – a traditional space where you sit on the floor in a kind of a large tent, or a normal space with tables and chairs. After careful consideration I went for the latter.

The mandi dish is a very tender sheep meat prepared in a tandoor over with rice and spices. If at first the red spice mix in a small dish seems weak – beware! Even a small drop turns into a raging fire on your tongue rather quickly! The mandi was delicious. Yemenis would eat it with hands, and the cellophane on the table is used to efficiently remove all the food scraps at the end of the process. I was served a knife and a fork thankfully.

And to finish off the “unusual Dubai” – this curious machine. No ATM this. It’s a donation machine! I pressed the screen and was confronted with a list of Islamic good deeds, each with a corresponding foundation. You only pick the deed and pay! A rather smart idea in my opinion.

The post Non-standard Dubai appeared first on Around the world in three years.

Even though I am such an experienced traveller, strangely I’d never been to Dubai before. The obvious reason is that before spring of 2014 I needed a visa to enter Dubai which was expensive and bureaucratically difficult to obtain. I had a hunch that soon enough this would change and so it did.

Most tourists are drawn to Dubai for two major reasons: shopping and beaches. As for me, none of this was of any interest. Rather I wanted to experience for myself that paradoxical contemporary miracle, an urban mirage built in the middle of the desert. My expectations were pretty low: I imagined a society torn between the ultrarich locals and the slave-like migrant workers, between modernity and fundamentalism, a tasteless mix of extreme consumption.

Dubai exceeded my expectations. Yes indeed it’s a mirage willed into existence by the imagination and self-confidence of its rulers. The mirage that shook all the surrounding rulers and spurred them into copying it. Actually the emirate of Dubai is a rather small piece of land, the lion’s part of UAE being occupied by Abu Dhabi. The same goes for oil: Dubai has practically run out of it by now. And yet its emirs managed to get the most of out their small territory. Today it is an incredible futuristic ensemble that will leave no one unimpressed.

So let’s get it on. Standard Dubai! Burj Khalifa – the tallest building in the world. Simply dwarfing the surrounding skyscrapers:

Of course I climbed the 125 floor and took all the crazy photos from the open balcony where you feel the gusts of wind and where the glass does not separate you from the air.

This is madness. You are so high up that your brain refuses to quite process it. When I did my bungee jump I had a similar feeling – my brain just couldn’t grasp the distance.

I made this photo through the glass looking due West. Here it is obvious how Dubai is composed of two main clusters of tall buildings – one is concentrated around Burj Khalifa and further East, the other is several kilometres West – you can see it out in the distance. The sail-like Burj al-Arab is about half way between the two – here it is on the right.

Burj Khalifa towers above the largest shopping mall in the world – called Dubai Mall. Indeed you enter the tower through the mall. Looking from below:

Before entering the elevator, you pass through a gallery describing the construction process:

In the evening every 30 minutes you can watch a fountain show. I only kept this pic.

Dubai Mall is famous for its grandiose aquarium several floors high, situated smack in the middle of the shopping area. Madness too:

The brand names appear to float deep in the water:

This fantastic fountain is also located inside the Dubai Mall.

The only thing I bought there was this wonderful date chocolate in a classic Batak sweets shop.

Actually to defy the stereotype I commenced my exploration of Dubai from its old part. The little town of Dubai grew around the mouth of a small creek which flows into the Gulf. My hotel was close to Al Fahidi metro – right in the “historical centre”. It’s about 15 minutes walk to the riverfront from there:

The passenger boats constantly criss cross the creek:

On the other side of the creek is the Deira area, famous for its markets. The Main Market is particularly known as the place to buy spices:

I wandered around Deira:

Actually looking for the Gold Market:

This exotic market offers gold in every possible form – including by weight. The retail prices are shown on an ever-changing electronic screen:

Gold…

more gold…

and more gold…

The darkness fell as I was walking around the Gold Market, and so I had to cross the Creek in the dark:

The very centre of Old Dubai is marked by what is now Dubai Museum, formerly a fortress-residence of the ruler. It’s the building with a tower in the back. The fortress is not very old and is rather small, which highlights the limited importance of Dubai in those days. In 18-19 centuries Bahrain was the centre of gravity, whereas Dubai was a forgotten province.

And yet the visit to the museum is quite fascinating. It is built in an ultramodern style and offers glimpses of Dubai’s life as it was 100-200 years ago, and so get an idea of the incredible transformation that has taken place. It is often said Dubai has no history to speak of. Strictly speaking that’s not true. It was not always a desert, indeed it used to be grassland and a surprising number of archeological finds have been discovered. This is a model of the rock tomb that was built by an unknown religion 5000 years ago. Plenty of other prehistoric structures dot the Dubai desert.

The Al Fahidi traditional village is located next to Dubai Museum. This village is full of boutique hotels, galleries, restaurants and cafés. Its streets being quite empty of visitors, particularly in the evening, it is enchanting to discover it as you only hear your own footsteps in the silence.

Back to the mass commerce. One more famous shopping mall is the Mall of the Emirates. I visited it as a quaint tourist attraction. This is where the famous artificial snow mountains are located, and the local families eagerly test their Alpine skiing skills. I was there before Christmas, and the complex was full of Christmas symbols – a rather strange sight in a Muslim country, come to think of it.

On the map Burj al-Arab is right next to the Mall of the Emirates. You cannot visit it without a room or a dinner reservation. An alternative is to visit the Medinat Jumeirah mall, playfully recreating an atmosphere of a medieval souq in an ultramodern take. I decided to walk there from a metro stop – just to see how friendly is Dubai to pedestrians. The verdict: not friendly at all. It’s only 2 km but everything in Dubai is meant for cars and so you walk around roundabout after roundabout. I took a taxi on the way back.

Burj al-Arab as seen from Medinat Jumeirah:

In the wonderfully clean Dubai metro you have these touchstreen digital maps allowing to study the station’s environment and plan your journey. Welcome to the future!

Overall the Dubai metro reminded me of the metro in Bangkok. There the lines are also mostly placed above ground – and often you have to walk quite a bit from the metro stop to your actual destination, as the number of lines is very small. Indeed I felt there was a lot of similarities between Dubai and Bangkok – both are exhausting, both are intense, and both are democratic in small things. In Dubai everybody speaks English, most of the population are foreigners, and so it feels like Dubai belongs to all and to no one in particular. I think it is a true city of the future in that sense – this is where most cities are heading.

I rode the local buses a couple of times too – surprisingly it’s often quicker to take a bus rather than take the metro, even large distance. The buses are double deckers, and from time to time you hold your breath – this is from the front row on the second floor:

All of Dubai is covered by a grid of bus stops. In December when I visited it was winter, so the temperature topped at about 27 Celsius during the day. In summer 40 degrees are common – so air-conditioned bus stops are indispensable.

As you can see, the standard Dubai is not so standard after all. I liked it – despite expectations to the contrary. Now I get it why living here is an option for many people.

The post Standard Dubai appeared first on Around the world in three years.

As I departed from Bahrain, my knowledge of this country was rather limited. I initially envisaged heading for Dubai, and I added Bahrain only when I realised that I could easily visit one more country in combination with the Emirates. For the holders of Estonian passport like myself there was a mini-diplomatic breakthrough in the beginning of 2014 – at that time almost all of the Gulf countries changed the entry rules for the “new” EU countries, making the entrance either visa-free or visa-on-arrival. I’d read in the press about the changes introduced by the UAE, but as I was checking the visa rules, suddenly I realised that Bahrain, Oman and Kuwait had followed suit! And only Qatar is lagging behind. I did try to include Qatar this time around, by applying for its visa the old fashioned way, but the procedure turned out to be quite kafkaesque without any clear rules or deadlines – and so I dropped it. My guess is that their visa rules will change soon too.

In a paradoxical way Bahrain is just the right country to start your Gulf visit. The whole history of the Gulf in a way starts right here, on this tiny island. We’ve all heard of the great Mesopotamian civilisation. The great epic poem of that civilisation was the famous Epos of Gilgamesh, in which King Gilgamesh among many other things visits the fairytale land of Dilmun, a paradise on Earth and the source of eternal life. The prototype for the mythical Dilmun was the island of Bahrain. At the time – we’re talking 5000 years ago – it was the economic centre of the whole Arabic peninsula, thanks to its location at the crossroads of trade routes.

This favourable location was at the same time its undoing. Being at the crossroads of the empires, it changed hands between them innumerable times. To this day it is an apple of discord between Iran and the Arabs. Iran considers Bahrain its property and supports the local majority Shiite population, which protested very loudly against the ruling Sunni elite during the Arab Spring. As the Emir of Bahrain is a close ally of both Saudi Arabia and USA, the protests were put down by force and their spacial focus, the so-called Pearl Roundabout, a local equivalent of the Cairo’s Tahrir Square, was destroyed with bulldozers.

Bahrain is the key detail in the big puzzle of the Gulf, due to the fact that it is the base of the American Fifth fleet. Whenever an American aircraft carrier parades along the coast of Iran, it is in Bahrain that it will dock.

The Gulf starts out of Bahrain in one other key aspect. In the old days it was the economic centre of the Gulf due to it being at the centre of the pearl trade. Cartier would buy his pearls right here in 1920s. The pearl trade in the Gulf collapsed in 1930s after the invention of cultured pearl farming in Japan. And then Bahrain gave the Gulf yet another gift of immense wealth. It was right here that the oil was found and the first oil well in the Gulf was dug in 1932.

My plane landed in Manama at 3am at night. It turned out the visa free regime is not quite visa free – I had to buy a visa, and it seemed the cost was at the mercy of the immigration worker – each new visitor would be quoted a different amount. I had arranged an airport pickup with my hotel, although my actual reservation allowed me to check in only at 14:00. I wasn’t sure the plane would be on time, and so decided I’d wait in the lobby working at the computer. This didn’t quite go according to the plan – the hotel manager just could not tolerate a guest sitting all night long in his lobby. When I opted not to pay for an additional night, he checked me in for free at 7:00. If only all hotels managers in the world were as welcoming! I therefore heartily recommend the Bahrain Ramada hotel. My first look out the hotel window, which seemed very exotic on that first morning:


I started my walk around Manama in this very Western neighbourhood right by my hotel, where I could satisfy my craving for coffee and even visit a contemporary art gallery.

Al Riwaq Art Space – a very pleasant space indeed:

From there on I set out on foot for the major Mosque, which was very close. This is Bahrain:

Along with the Bahrain Museum, the Mosque is considered the main attraction of Manama.

Non-believers are welcome to visit the Mosque between the prayer times. At the main entrance you are assigned a free guide who walks you around and will answer all your questions about Islam.

Islamic books are also distributed. I took some books to read, but the style of the books seemed very authoritative and absolute, not allowing for any doubt or questioning, so I quite soon I stopped reading.

The internal courtyard:

The main hall:

Wonderful drawings explaining the exact order of the ablution ritual and the meaning of each action.

Together with my guide, we climbed the balcony around the main hall:

The cupola:

After visiting the Mosque I headed in the direction of the city centre and the Bahrain Museum. The locals looked at me with some bewilderement – apparently “walking” here is considered a strange idea. The taxi drivers would not stop honking, despite the earplugs I had put in my ears.

The Bahrain Museum is probably the most impressive of all historic museums in the Gulf, and also the very first one. I suspect the rest of the museums in the neighbouring countries, which lately have been popping like mushrooms, are modelled and outright copied after this one. The entrance:

The walk around the exposition starts from this drawing illustrating Bahrain’s ancient role as the trade centre of the Gulf. (Interestingly, no-one in the Arab states would ever call the Gulf Persian. For them it is the Arab Gulf, of course.)

Very impressive exposition:

You feel touched by the spirit of ancient times:

The floor of the main hall is very creatively laid out as the map of Bahrain. As you walk around the hall, you explore the map and you find information about each landmark right where it actually is on the map.

I was pleasantly surprised by a wing devoted to contemporary art. This artwork requires no comments.

After visiting the Museum I walked around the central Manama – the financial district. The buildings here mostly date from 1970s and are no match for the ultramodern giants of Dubai. At the time however Bahrain was the financial capital of the Gulf – after the destruction of Beirut and before the ascent of Dubai.

Manama’s status as a capital is relatively recent. For centuries it was Muharraq where the centre of Bahrain’s life lay. Muharraq is a small island today connected to Bahrain with a ramp bridge. When Muharraq run out of space, Manama became the capital.

The main square of central Manama – the Bab al-Bahrain gate.

I decided to venture out to Muharraq as I was told it’s the only place in Bahrain where some old buildings remain. There is public transport in Manama, but it was quite impossible at first to identify the bus stops, plus there was no information on the routes anywhere. So I decided to take a taxi. The taxi drivers in Bahrain are notorious for being some of the least scrupulous in the world. My experience supported that assessment! I specifically looked for a taxi at a taxi stop and agreed several times with the driver that we will use the meter. I asked him to switch the meter on, which he did. And yet as we arrived, he started to demand a fantasy price from me. Good that I had the exact fare shown on the meter – I just placed it and left the car, despite his loud protestations! On the way back I did come across a bus station which was marked on my map, and took a bus to the centre. The rest of the passengers of the bus were Indians and Pakistanis obviously working here.

Muharraq:

A self-portrait in a rather trendy women’s clothes shop.

First thing I visited the so-called Beit Sheikh Isa bin Ali – a residence of a local ruler built around 1800. A deserted and yet a fascinating place. As you walk around, you can’t help imaging the lives and the complicated destinies of the erstwhile residents. There is some helpful signage in English.

The wind tower, one of the most characteristic aspects of the building. I would later notice these wind towers in many old buildings in other places.

This is how it looks from the inside. A rather creative construction meant to catch the wind in the hot times and to direct it inside the building, thus creating a refreshing draft – a kind of medieval ventilation.

Old wooden doors:

The main courtyard – reserved for the family:

What a sky!

After the sunset I took some time to wander around Muharraq. This ice cream parlour is closed – note the reason! Indeed the loud chants of muezzins would come from all directions at that moment.

On my wanderings I came across an almost incredibly nice museum which no map mentioned. It is situated in the house belonging to the heir to one of the richest men in Bahrain who made his fortune in the peral trade:

The view over Bahrain out the airplane window as I was leaving:

And the view over my next destination. You can see which country that is:

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To go through all of your images sounds like an easy task in theory, but in practice it is anything but. From my DSLR cameras alone I have by now over 35’000 images. Indeed even visually to go through all this on a computer screen, assuming you take 3 seconds per image, would take 29 hours. So I took shortcuts: I’d only look at the very best images, the ones I’ve already published on the blog or the ones that I’d given a high rating in Lightroom.

The result is out there – I’ve created two “portfolio” collections: People and Places.

As a side project, I decided to also choose (somewhat arbitrarily, of course) the best ten images for 2014. Just as a way of looking back and of gauging my progress in photography. Here they are:

Singapore, Marina Bay


New Zealand, Cape Foulwind

Bosnia, Sarajevo

New Zealand, Mount Ngauruhoe

Nepal, Annapurna Base Camp trek

Australia, Kakadu National Park

Armenia, Echmiadzin

Nepal, Annapurna Base Camp

Bali, North of Ubud

Bosnia, Mostar

Nepal, Kathmandu

The post Best photos appeared first on Around the world in three years.