Dave the Nomad

I took another overnight bus back to Bangkok, and hung out with a Thai friend I met in Madrid while waiting for my Chinese visa. Wasinee had to work during the days, but we caught up over a couple nights of dinner and wandering the streets. Getting my Chinese visa was virtually painless compared to my Indian visa adventures in Turkey. I simply handed my passport over without filling in a form, and picked it up two days later, and $200 poorer.

Ready for my trip, I boarded a bus for Siem Reap, which is the major town outside Angkor Wat. The plan is to get the Cambodian visa at the border, and take a mini-bus the rest of the way. After a brief stop for lunch where our guide tried to have us pay almost three times as much for our visa through his agency, we were back on the bus to the border town of Poipet. We arrived in a nice strip of shops and well kept roads, and started walking to the border. On the other side was a plume of dust rising from the road, and suddenly the people were not smiling anymore.

While walking to the customs office our guide offered to take care of our visas for only 1000 baht (it was 1400 baht at lunch), but the visa only costs 650 baht. I was happy to wait an hour in line to save the money and pressed onward. Our guide walked in before us, jabbered to the immigration officials, and sat us down to fill out papers. When it came time to pay, the officials wanted 1100 baht. I knew something was fishy, so I nonchalantly asked for a receipt with my passport. No one was willing to sign off on it. No one wanted to admit how much the visa cost.

Perturbed, I stood in line, got my visa stamped, and politely asked how much the visa cost. They said it was 650 baht. I asked if they could tell me why I paid the guy 40 feet away 1100 baht, and why he couldn’t just give me a receipt. They said it was for “fast process, no wait.” I was fine with that if someone could own up to signing a piece of paper. I walked out, looked at the guy in charge, who couldn’t hold eye contact, and told him to have a beer on me, and put his children in a good school.

Our guide agreed to get a taxi for myself and a nice Irish couple I had met so we wouldn’t have to take the 6 hr long non AC mini bus. Before we could do that we were put on a bus to listen to some guy talk about Cambodia, hyper-sweat for 10 minutes, and walked back off the bus which only went about 100 meters, and were ushered to the back of the taxi building to get a taxi. We asked why we were out back, and he said, “special priority, you skip all others.”

Our taxi driver took off, flying down the dust blown roads, honking so frequently, I wondered if he hadn’t just attached it to a CAM shaft on the engine. I was back in India.

In India, you could do anything for a price. The scam artists are God, and sometimes you have no other option. Trash was splayed like spring flowers, cows aimlessly roamed the streets, and our driver was driving on the left side of the road (you drive on the right side in Cambodia) as if we were fleeing for our lives. Unsurprisingly, we arrive in Siem Reap in record time, and were left at a tuk-tuk stand to go to our hotel.

My plan was to meet up with my friend from CWRU, Pat, and his fiancee, Mary, at a guest house, so I had a place to go. The tuk-tuk/rickshaw driver hates this. They always want to bring you to their buddy’s place. Wryly he asked which guest house as their were two of them very close. I said the cheaper, but I would just check at reception. We passed the ‘Popular Guest House,’ and turned into another place. I looked behind at the sign; a ploy. This wasn’t ‘Popular Guest House II,’ but another hotel. I told them to take me to the guest house, and that was final. Unhappily, he took us there, and we immediately ran into Pat and Mary.

The poverty level back up, the scam and buddy networks thriving, I am finding it hard not to compare this country to India. The stretch of road we had just traveled is infamous for scams, and I felt glad to make it out relatively unscathed. It is not all bad however, I missed the small children business selling you trinkets and pouting. I enjoy bartering with them, or tricking one of them into telling me their break-even point.. The difference here is they get upset when you buy from someone else, and they whine at you, “Why you no buy from me, I talk you first,” and every business advance is done in the most pathetically high pitched voice possible. I’ll go into more detail of the ruins, but when you arrive at one of the temples, the sound is very similar to the noon time tornado warning horn at home. A cacophony of women starting their attention getting, “helllllloooo, driiiinnnk, collllldddd drinnnkkk,” as they flap their menus in the air at you, and scoot their children off the hammock to sell you postcards.

Same, same, but different.

The drive into Rajasthan was relatively flat and mundane, the countryside more arid and relentless, and horses or cattle pulling carts slowly being replaced by camels. The most interesting sites on the road were the trapezoidal spires puffing smoke as they fired bricks. Each spire had a mini community of make-shift huts bustling with people carrying materials or moving bricks around it. Plots of land were cut away like mini-quarries, and the walls made of neatly arranged bricks ready for moving. This work camp environment seemed oppressive from my fleeting glimpses, but hopeful as at least they had a job, and not forced to send their children to beg in the streets.

Bricks in progress

We arrived fairly late again, and decided to find some street food and call it a night. We stumbled upon some fried chicken, and after a misunderstanding on half and whole chicken walked away with a whole chicken each instead of a half chicken each. Five minutes of engorging ourselves in complete silence we managed to talk to each other like humans again. The next morning we weren’t feeling too great, but not bad enough to stop the tourist bug.

Our first stop in Jaipur was actually outside the city, and is referred to as the Amber Fort. True to its name, this impressive fort seems to be an extension of the hill will large ramparts, moats, and towers. This is the middle of three forts, and by far the most charismatic. If you aren’t willing to climb to the top, you can opt to ride in a jeep or on an elephant. After wandering around the beautiful courtyards, temples, and painted gateways, we were happy to have visited the Agra Fort first, comparatively, it was boring and less exotic. This is a must-see, and if I had to pick only one place to visit in this city, this would be it.

Courtyard outside the Amber Fort

Jaipur is known as the Pink City, as the Old City buildings and walls are colored an orangish color which supposedly turns pink at sunset. I didn’t quite see the connection, but it is certainly a nice change from Agra, each shop has a designated store front and keeps some of the traveling salesman sedentary. There are tons of shops in the Old Town neatly divided into bazaars. Each bazaar specializes in a particular trade, so you could see the iron and metal works, electronics, jewelry, cloth dying, sari shop, etc in between trying to see a few of the city’s 5000 temples.

Three of the temples stood out to me, each which a different glimpse at life. The first temple we visited they were kind enough to let us climb on the roof and check out the ever-moving life around the traffic circle below. The colors of flowers for temple devotionals framed in the chaotic movement below, and if you blurred your vision for a few seconds it almost seemed to have a semblance of order. In the heart of the traffic stood one cow eating its cud, daring a snail to walk faster. The air was filled with the sounds of horns blaring and people bartering, but slightly distant. For that small amount of time wandering around the walls, I was able to take in the city below without seeing it from two feet away. Truly a unique perspective into the city.

We happened along a second temple as we walked through the city. It was virtually empty on the lower level. We took off our shoes, mumbled a quiet namaste, and ascended the steps to the higher courtyard. Again, it was empty except for two boys. The older holding a spool of string walking backwards. The younger of the two was holding a kite, and had pinned himself diagonally from his brother, waiting for his queue to thrust the kite to the wind. The courtyard wasn’t perched on a hill, but enclosed by relatively high walls. It was an interesting place to see two children flying a kite. As we entered the courtyard, we heard giggling hellos from behind a veiled screen on the second floor. I said, “hello.” The response was a jumbled response of five or six questions all said in a loud whisper, none discernible from the other until they were all hushed. There were no faces to make out, but the contrast in light told me where they were sitting. I went to the main altar, looked around, and upon returning to the courtyard, a man, presumably the father had joined his sons in the courtyard, and was about to school them in the art of kite flying. He too was walking backwards until pinned into a far corner of the courtyard, and flew the kite to the top of the courtyard before hectically running about with the twirling wind trying to keep it afloat. It was a cool experience, isolated from the city, but characteristic of the region.

I didn’t realize kite flying was as popular as it was here until we were ascending the hill to the final temple. This one is endearingly referred to as the “Monkey Palace,” by the rickshaw drivers. It is perched on a hill on the east side of the city, and is a popular place to join the troupes of monkeys that converge here at dusk to watch the sunset over the city. The sky to the immediate south of the temple was filled with a smattering of kites, and the trees appeared to have new leaves made of kites. The walk up the hill is steep, but filled with beggars of peanuts. The monkeys are fed here daily, and know exactly what a bag of peanuts looks like. They will usually wait patiently on the side for you, or walk alongside you at a safe distance. Some of them would follow you, and if you turned around to try and catch them in the act they would sit down, look away, and find some other menial task to occupy their time.

I decided to give all my peanuts to the small monkeys, but this was a futile task. The larger monkeys would run them down before they could shell them or climb high enough to avoid them. At one point I was completely duped, as I was trying to give one a peanut and another came up behind me and stole the whole bag. I wasn’t very happy, but couldn’t help but commend their teamwork. After finishing the climb, we visited the temple, had yellow dots put on our head and red and yellow strings tied around our wrists. We of course were prompted to make a small donation to the Sun God in turn. The views over the city were incredible, and well worth the hike up. I watched the kites flying in the air, and tried to find their respective master on the adjacent rooftops below. Sometimes they appeared to be rogue kites under no control, and I appreciated watching them as they danced around until one of them found the fate of being cut and drifting to the ground. I saw a fallen kite in the corner of the temple courtyard, and started approaching it. Immediately a monkey saw me and perceived it to be of value. His response was to promptly pick it up, eat a few pieces of it, and then vanish over the wall with the remaining morsels.

After saying goodbye to the EWB group at the Delhi airport, Sam and I rickshawed into the heart of Delhi for our first independent stay night of travel. We were planning to stay in an area near the New Delhi Rail Station known for cheap quasi-run-down places filled with backpackers. The main strip stood unwavering from the reviews as we tip-toed along the muddy road and did our best to avoid making eye contact with the vulture like shop owners and hustlers. We stayed in an eloquent hotel with only the random appearance of a mouse scuttling in between our belongings.

We had already seen some of the sights in Delhi during a day-trip with the EWB team including Qutb Minar and the Ba’hai Lotus Temple. Qutb Minar is an impressively large minaret built to signal the arrival of Islam in what is present-day India, and the Mughal Empire. Today it is a bit off the tourist path, but less hustle and more interested school groups happy to practice their English and make you feel like a politician shaking hands. The Lotus Temple is an impressive modern-day structure shaped like a semi-open Lotus blossom with serene pools and gardens around the base. We ended the day trip here with a stop at the famous India Institute of Technology (IIT) and a social gathering with the Industrial Design Group, and dinner at the home of a University of Hartford alumnus who treated us with fantastic hospitality and a delicious home-cooked meal.

Sam and I narrowly escaped scams as a latent past-time while on our own, and managed to peruse the random bazaars and visit Connaught Place. Outside of being hustled, seeing the reasons why this is a contender for the most polluted city in the world, there was little else which was enticing to us here. We managed to find a rotating restaurant near Connaught Place that offered a great view of the city and decently priced food before planning our exit strategy.

I had a friend from Case Medical School, Deepak who took us under his wing and helped us plan our trip onward over several meals and hanging out with friends. Deepak is currently working at a hospital on the west edge of Delhi, and it was great to catch up on life and relay information on friends at home and afar. Our plan was to take his personally recommended driver from Delhi to Agra, and onwards to Jaipur before sending him back to Delhi while we headed farther south. Deepak knew him well, made sure he understood our plans before leaving, and was always on-call for any potential problems.

Ashok, our driver, whisked us away from Delhi and off to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. We arrived after dark, and would have to wait until the morning to see the wonder that is the Taj. Our hotel had a great rooftop view, and we decided to find a reliable internet cafe for the night and enter the Taj early in the morning before the hoards of tourists arrived from Delhi. We weren’t quite ready to return to the hotel and attempted a walk around the city. As we started walking down several darker streets we heard the monkeys all around us, and they weren’t very happy. They were hollering, hooting, running around the power lines, and some even screaming from no distinct location as the sounds echoed around us. If you stared carefully you could pick them out hiding in window sills or crevices between steps and doors defensively holding their positions. For a brief moment I felt like I was in a bad zombie movie, and we both thought it would be best to return to the confines of the hotel. I suddenly understood why the whole upper part of the hotel was effectively caged in at night, and appreciated the no monkey business aspect.

We woke up around 7 am, stumbled up to the cafe on the roof and watched as the sky turned from blue to pink and more and more details revealed themselves on the magical Taj Mahal. There is a reason this place is so famous, and it was a bit surreal to being seeing it while eating a parantha (stuffed unleavened bread) and Chai for breakfast. Satisfied the morning sky was done revealing interesting colors, we headed out to pay the ridiculous entrance fee. I haven’t mentioned this yet, but India has different entrances fees for Indians and Foreigners; at the Taj we each payed 750 rupees (~15 USD), while the Indians paid only 20 rupees. You quickly get over this souring note walking along the sides of groomed lush gardens and reflecting pools. The Taj is certainly the center of attraction, but the red mosque to the left was also a nice visit as were the views onto the Yamuna River bordering the back edge of the beautiful mausoleum.

After the must visit, we checked out of our hotel, and had Ashok shimmy us through the tourist mayhem of the city including the Agra Fort, mini Taj Mahal, and Moon Gardens. After the in-your-face souvenir shopping, the gardens were a breath of fresh air, and a completely different perspective of the Taj. We sat on the far banks of the river looking across at the Taj from the shade of a pepper tree and enjoying the goats scavenging the almost dry river bed and occasional passing camel. The relaxing end to the day was a nice start to our 5 hour drive to Jaipur and the Rajasthan state.

As you should be aware, I needed to visit Ankara to get my visa for India. Since I was traveling on a holiday, and book-ended on the other side by a weekend, I decided to visit Cappadocia for the weekend, and drop off my visa application on Monday. Cappadocia is a unique area in central turkey composed of windswept rock formations and an obvious inspiration to Fraggle Rock.

The bus ride to Cappadocia was absolutely amazing. On one side was a serene salt lake. I watched the horizon of the lake disappear into a sun-set colored haze as if it continued like an ocean for an entire ten minutes before I saw the first whisp of wind churn the mirror-like surface. The other side of the road was buttressed against steadily growing curvaceous hills. The snow-covered landscape soon disappeared with the daylight, and it wasn’t until I arrived in Goreme I saw the first of Cappadocia. The fairy chimneys (or so they are called by locals), were lit up and surrounded the city. The mix of normal buildings, and bizarre rock formations was certainly a wild experience. Brad, Venecia, and I had decided it would be best to stay in a cave, and managed to find a hotel room for 10 euro nestled in the rock overlooking the city.

Cappadocia is actually a geographically large area; as such most people take a scramble around hustle and bustle bus tour. The three of us found out renting a car was the same price, and decided a more relaxed approach would be nicer. As the only person with winter driving experience, I was elected the driver. The driving was slow, but it was nice to pull over to take pictures or grab food when we pleased. Our first stop was the underground city of Derenkuyu.

Derenkuyu was a city capable of holding over 30,000 people with multiple entrances, and almost 100 meters deep. About 10% of the city is open for exploration, and small signs direct you around to make sure don’t get lost. Parts could be isolated by throwing mill stones in the path of invaders, and secret exits allowed them to entrap enemy. I haven’t had this much fun exploring in a long time, and would highly recommend going here if you get the chance.

We continued our journey by driving another hour to the Ilhara Valley. The “valley” is actually a steep canyon where many Christians built hidden churches in which to worship while being persecuted. A local dog seemed to know exactly where to go, and guided us around the snow covered canyon floor to the cliff dwellings and churches. We climbed, hiked, jumped, and crawled around the various areas. Seeing these humble churches with ornate hand paintings was a very stark contrast to the monstrous Gothic cathedrals of Europe, and a bit more personal. There was character, personality, and a level of understanding and siding with the underdog while visiting the churches. The hike around the valley alone was beautiful, and a great end to the day.

On our way home, we decided to take a different route, and ended up helping an old couple who were stuck in the snow. Another man had gotten out to help push as well, and we manged to get them out just fine. If they had snow tires they would’ve been fine. What little Turkish we knew conveyed less than the smiles on faces.

We arrived back in Goreme and our hotel guide brought us to a local bar to hang out. There weren’t a lot of people in the bar, but it was a fun environment, and the rolling brownouts were always a good time to laugh and relax. We ended up learning some Turkish Dances, and had a great time, until the bartender tried to charge us way too much. It definitely was a mood killer to the end of the night, but our hotel guide held his ground, and helped us leave unscathed.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

I arrived in Istanbul a couple of days ago after a delayed and tiresome train journey through Greece. The late ferry arrival from Santorini meant I had to take a night train to Thessaloniki. Somewhere in the middle of the night, the train broke down, and we ended up arriving 5 hours late in Thessaloniki. You can’t really book train travel in advance in Greece, but I was originally planning to take a 7 am train straight to Istanbul per advice online, but it turned out there is only a night train to Istanbul with compulsory couchettes. I spent the day wandering around Thessaloniki with a guy from Chile who was a bit anxious about most of life but was entertaining to explore the city with versus alone.

The train was great! There were only two couchettes in each cabin with a small sink, mirror, and outlet. I shared mine with a friendly Serbian man who gladly exchanged the last of my Serbian currency for euros. (PS It’s impossible to exchange it outside of Serbia, so plan accordingly if you go) He spoke fairly good English, and we were able to have some good conversations.

We arrived at the border around 4 am and were directed off the train to a small office that reminded me of a trading post you might come along in the middle of no where while camping. The skinny man inside would randomly pick a passport and yell your name as everyone was trying to pack themselves into the office to get out of the cold. Depending on your nationality you paid a different amount. Afterwards you could simply go back to the train to sleep…. until the custom agent would come knocking a little bit later. Just enough time for you to have just fallen asleep to be precise. Depending on his mood and your appearance, he would simply stare at your luggage or make you open every pocket. Thankfully, I got a stare somewhere between “you’re a young traveler, go spend money.” and “I don’t want to deal with unpacking that backpack.”

Turkey is an almost entirely Muslim country, which means since arriving in Istanbul I’ve been reminded five time a day of where I am. Sometimes its nice to mentally pause for a second, and put everything into reality; at other times, I wish I wasn’t as close to the megaphones attached to a nearby minaret. There is a vibrant life throughout this city. It is still a constant hub of movement with influences from all over the world. However, it is still distinctively Turkish and so far a very interesting place. Unfortunately, the weather has not really behaved, and it has been bitterly cold and rainy most days, last night there was some snowy-sleet falling, and I did see a little snow on some distant hills. I’ll settle on calling it a semi-white Christmas

Since Turkey is a Muslim country, Christmas is known as just another day. As such I loked for the Indian Consulate to start processing my visa. I got to the general neighborhood, but kept getting the run around by a dozen people or so all swearing to know exactly where it was, but never succeeding in getting us there. I finally gave up after realizing I narrowed it down to a two block radius, and I would have to wait until morning for them to open anyways.

While debating the exact location of the consulate, I was duped into a ploy. A shoe polisher walked by me and dropped his brush, which I promptly picked up and handed to him. He was so grateful he insisted on shining my mesh hiking shoes. After him trying and I not letting him he insisted on asking me for 18 lira (about 8 euro) for his bum leg and his sad attempt at ruining my shoes. I gave him a lira and walked away laughing. I was walking around with Brad at the time, and we both decided next time we would have a little fun with them. Here’s hoping they try again!

I spent the rest of the day exploring the Grand Bazaar, which has over 4500 shops and 22 entrances. The area is divided into gold, carpets, antiques, denimwear, etc. with other random shops sprinkled around and an even larger outdoor market surrounding it for blocks. It was a fun place with pulsing crowds of people. Other than that, I called home in the evening to wish my family a Merry Christmas, and went out with some other people from the hostel for little spicy hamburgers. It was great to hear from everyone, even if it was for the briefest of moments. I hope all of you had a wonderful white Christmas!

Merry Christmas everyone!

I wasn’t planning to go to Santorini because I heard it was pretty much shut down for the off-season. However, I met several girls who were going anyways for a few days, and I decided it would be a more economical way to spend my time than trying to rush around another country. The ferry ride over was comfortable and interesting. There always seemed to be some island within site, each one being a little different, but vaguely similar as well, and then we reached Santorini. The crescent shaped island was amazing with colorful rock strata and the occasional spots of greenery. We found a hotel for 12.50 Euro/ night, and spent our first day wandering around the main city of Thira as the sun was setting and rain pouring.

The lack of tourists was actually refreshing. Although less places were open we only had to share the streets with the natives, a few ex-pats, and a friendly little pack of stray dogs. We quickly made friends with our waiter at El Greco and he helped us rent a car for 25 Euro/day. The island is too big to travel entirely by foot, and uses infrequent buses this time of year; the car was perfect. We drove around the winding roads the first day visiting the highest peak, a few beaches, and attempted to watch the sunset from Oia on the north end of the island. Sadly, the rain clouds blew in and we resigned to eating, seeing our new dog friends, and checking out a few of the local bars.

Our second day on the island was a real surprise. I decided to go for a morning swim before heading over to the volcano island located in the middle of the crescent. The lively crater has been active in the past, and still boasts some hot springs. The water around the volcano was a little bit warmer than the rest, but certainly not hot. After taking the ferry back to the old port of Thira, we took the traditional way back up the hill, on a donkey. There is an old man with a chubby face that partially hid his smile who will gladly let you ride one of the decorated donkeys up the path for a few euro. The donkeys are real troopers who stopped as long as they could until the old man would give them a little shout. They would zigzag up the path and a few times I had to pull my foot out of the stirrup to avoid having my leg squashed into the side of the wall. However, I have to give those donkeys a lot of respect, drenched in sweat, and the sound of those little bells jingling around their necks had to be an uncomfortable.

We drove out to Oia again in hopes of seeing a good sunset, and the clouds seemed to break just in time to see it set over the distant water. After having to change a flat tire from a screw, we settled into a small restaurant on the edge of Thira with a roaring fire and cozy atmosphere. To my surprise, the girls also managed to get a birthday cake for me to make sure I celebrated it with company. It was a great end to the day, and certainly the highlight day on the island.

Before catching the 7 pm ferry back to the mainland, we checked out some of the islands better beaches. Among them was the red beach outside Akrotiri which was true to its name and almost entirely made up of red lava rocks. You have to hike a bit to get there, and then stomp through some washed up type of seaweed that was almost like straw in the shape of fettuccine noodles. The waves were very calm, and it was my favorite of the beaches.

The beach at Vlichada was also cool. It is primarily a black beach with some pumice on the high tide line and wind carved sandy white cliffs above it. It was certainly unique, but much more exposed than the red beach. A large storm came in as we boarded the overnight ferry, and the colorful cliffs of Santorini were hidden from a proper goodbye by nightfall.

The ferry ride was much different this time. We took the Atek Lines instead of Blue Star Ferries and were directed to our seats in the lounge area which were simple movable chairs you would expect to see in a reception area. I managed to get some quality sleep, but the ferry had difficulties docking at several of the islands due to the high winds. The whole ordeal saw us landing in Athens five hours late, and me sitting around after missing my train to Thessaloniki. Overall, Santorini was beautiful and definitely a place I’ll make sure to visit in the summertime.

I arrived in Athens approximately 26 hours after leaving Belgrade, and was excited to get some quality sleep. I easily found my hostel between Syntagma Square and the Acropolis and only saw a few burnt out stores. The next day, I met some girls in the hostel who were finally going to the Acropolis. It had been closed for the last four days due to the riots, The Acropolis and its many temples, agora, and green space was beautiful, but a dwarf in comparison to Rome. It was great to visit, but the scaffolding and crane jutting out of the Parthenon on the top of the Acropolis didn’t help make it an amazing experience aside from its historical reasons. The rest of the day we visited other ancient sites around the city, ate traditional food in the Plaka area, and entertained ourselves with the dogs.

The stray dogs in Greece are collared, given rabies shots, and spay/neutered whenever possible. This mix of dogs are friendly and seem to adopt you for your jaunt around the city. For instance a group of us went out for dinner with a dog we named Nigel. Nigel would stay about 10 feet in front of us only to run off other dogs and cats, bark at other pedestrians, and mark his territory every 5 minutes or so lest we get lost. While we were at dinner, a man tried to sell us roses, and after declining the first time, Nigel jumped up and barked at him when he tried to come by again. After politely curling up by our table for dinner, he declined any scraps and took us back to the hostel where he found a couple other strays. It was a bizarre experience at first, but after a while you look forward to the company, and many of the girls liked it when walking alone as the dog would bark at suspicious person when not on a crowded street.

As for my experiences with the riots, they are based on little more than stories from locals and local news papers. Take the economics and politics as you wish, but what I heard is people aren’t happy with the government, and the demonstrations have turned violent, but towards Christmas trees, shops, and ATMs. Otherwise, the “riots” were little more than demonstrations with a few hooligans who got out of hand and are using laws protecting Universities enacted after the fall of the dictatorship in the 70s as a safe haven.

The government apparently has used up all of its 10 tonnes of tear gas during the stand-offs, and has used it liberally. One man told me about how he was alone on a street with seven old ladies who were carrying groceries home, and they were suddenly in a cloud of unprovoked tear gas. He tried to help as many of them as possible before not being able to see himself. Take it as you please, but I personally only saw some riot police calmly waiting around Syntagma Square ready to protect the replaced Christmas tree while happily using the free wireless around a bunch of holiday shoppers.

I didnt want to admit it at the time, but I was starting to get sick in Sarajevo, and I only felt worse by the time I got to Belgrade. I took a bus, and it was painfully cramped. My seat was about two inches too small and my knees were crammed into the seat in front of mine for the long journey. I was thankful for every rest stop, but the sinus cold couldn’t be relieved as simply as a good flexing of the legs. I spent the first day, which was cold and rainy, in the hostel sleeping off as much of my illness as possible. The next day I walked around the city, but was underwhelmed with the sights after being in Sarajevo. There is a nice citadel and fortress on the banks of the Danube with a large park, but otherwise the vaguely boring buildings were less than exciting. This was my first time in an Orthodox Church, and from what I observed, you first bow and kiss the icon in the main isle, and if you desire, stand in front of (sometimes kiss the other icons) as you walk to the right and then left side of the altars. Some of the churches had bar stool like seats around the edges with high arm-rests that were excellent at letting you rest your arms in a penitive stance. I was told the true charm of Belgrade is in its nightlife, but seeing as I was trying to get better I opted to miss out this time.

I was planning to take an overnight train to Athens, and a couple hours before I left a band from the US walked into the hostel. They were a lively bunch about halfway through their Eastern Europe tour. They were a rock n’ roll band, and a fun bunch to spend my last hours in Belgrade with before heading off to the station.

After my enthraling bus ride, I thought I would get some more rest by getting a couchette, and coughed up the extra 10 euro for a bed. Thankfully, I was the only person in my cabin, and I was able to spread out and relax. Unfortunately, I found myself violently ill about an hour into the ride, and didnt really sleep until after I heard a distant minaret’s call to prayer at the Macedonian border. I was really glad I didn’t have any cabinmates, and I think they would all be equally happy for not being there. I managed to feign a form of sleep until arriving in Thessaloniki around one, and switching trains for Athens.

I had an odd altercation with some gypsies in my seat. Until now, when you find someone in your seat, its been more of a ‘just take an open seat and dont worry about it’ approach. The three gypsies in what should’ve been my foursome of seats was loud and they made some ludelooking faces at me even though I had just sat a couple seats away, as I was not really in the mood to force my hand. At the first stop, I was in a ladies seat, and after explaining they were in my seat, she looked at them and started yelling something in Greek. She wasn’t happy, and it seemed like it might’ve been the last straw. The threesome were very rude, and hesitant to get up. Then another old man stood up and started yelling at them as well. When they finally got up and sauntered off with bitter faces, the cabin seemed to depressurize and the old man told me they were swearing and saying inappropriate things the whole ride, so when they saw they were also not supposed to be sitting there, it was too much. I’ll see if my experiences in Athens will align with my first impressions of the Greek people who sofar aren’t afraid to say what’s on their mind.

After missing my early morning train to Belgrade, I opted to go to Sarajevo. I never expected to be traveling to this city on my trip, but was excited about seeing the city and how it is doing. I lucked out and didnt have any cabin mates until around 5 am on my overnight train and was able to stretch out and lay down most of the night. Unfortunately, I noticed some serious bug bites on my back, and was debating bed bugs and fleas as the culprit. Fearing the bed bugs I washed all my clothes at the next hostel and put everything out in the cold. It seemed to do the trick, as it hasn’t been a problem since.

From the start, the people of Sarajevo have impressed me. They are not afraid to talk about the siege, or tell you stories of what life was like during those times. They are proud of their diverse heritage, and willing to share personal stories. For those of you a bit behind on recent world history. Sarajevo was sieged by the Serbian Army for the longest amount of time in modern history (1992-1996). There were more armaments per meter around the city then both the American and Russian forces combined in Berlin during the post- WWII occupation. Water, electricity, and communications were cut off from the outside world, and 100% of buildings took some degree of damage.

Nowadays, there are still visible scars, some more subtle like bullet holes on an otherwise nice building, and other more obvious ones like the ‘Sarajevo Roses.’ The roses are areas on the pavement that were hit by shell fire and were filled in with red cement. Although it is faded a bit, they remain to be one of the classier yet untouched memorials to violence I’ve seen on the trip. I also made sure to visit ‘Sniper Alley’ and the Holiday Inn which was home to international journalists. Not many places so far have been as tangible as this. I remember seeing what was happening here on TV, and relating that small bit of my reality to the damage and people is so much more touching. I think back to my frivolously ignorant complaints when growing up or when I was tired of studying, and start to put it in perspective. Its refreshing, and as much violence as there was here, there is growth and life.

Sarajevo is rebuilding, and I’m sure they had practice after preparing for the 1984 Olympics, but the workers seemed tirelessly determined. I felt a sense of pride when I looked at men on their lunch break and they smiled back at me not the smile to a tourist but of people who took pride in who they were and where they came from. Faces who spoke more about adversity and hope than any politican could muster.

Along with the people and recent history, Sarajevo has played a pivotal role in the past. It was a hub of commerce for hundreds of years, and the historic Old Town still looks like a bustling bazaar. It was also the site of an event which changed the world as we know it. The assassination of the Franz Ferdinand which dominoed into the Great War (aka WWI). The historic past of Sarajevo along with its prideful people have made this place unique and a place worth stopping by again.

I left Dubrovnik mid-morning by bus for the main port of Croatia, Split. The bus ride snaked along the coastline with breath-taking views of the islands. The clouds played with the lighting, and seemed to be jealous of the islands below as they mimicked the dotted coast and its lush tree covered islands. I will definitely be returning here!

Split wasnt a city to really shake a leg at, but I came here for several reasons. One, the riots in Greece are still in full-swing, and there is no good route through Albania into Greece. I decided to go to Split and hope for better transportation options. I stayed at a very welcoming hostel which was recommended to me by someone on the bus. Vidic was a great host, and showed us around and brought us out for a night on the town. It was a fun stop, but I was happy to be on the road again after a day of mediocre sight-seeing.

My bus ride from Split to Zagreb, the capital, was fairly uneventful, but at one point we exited a tunnel at the top of a valley engulfed in clouds, and frost covered trees, Oh, the snow finally caught me! It was significantly colder in Zagreb, and much more of a functional city. The buildings are a collection of houses, modern business towers, old Croatian churches, Baroque museums and municipal buildings, and the glue that held it all together of old Communist blocks. The main square was full of Christmas decorations, and had a stage alive with nightly performances and traditional music.

Megan has a friend in Zagreb, Elina, who was able to meet up with me. Elina, was a gracious host and made time to bring me out to dinner and show me around the city. She also drove me out to a small town which is a little more cozy and typical of non-coastal Croatian towns. It was a good time, even though a bit too cold. She also introduced me to Balkan cuisine like Cevapi, which are small sausages stuffed into pita bread with yogurt sauce and onions. Its definitely greasy and delicious. Tomorrow morning I’ll be heading to Belgrade to check out the communist block town and its nightlife.