ODYSSEUS AND ME TURN EAST

Viva Brasil!

2007-04-02T06:22:00.000-07:00

as this is the last entry of the great roadtrip that lies behind us, i am lost for words. i can only close my eyes and touch the sand at my feet. i can only take in what the sun has offered me. i look back to all the faces of those i have loved since the first day of flight, and those that i have met down this long and dusty road. i am not allowed to forget the sea, that great body of water and her calm and rocking waves. i am not allowed to forget each word, each syllable pronounced, each satisfying gulp of food and drink and especially the toasts we made for and in each others company.

the dance is in all of us and we must abide to it with our eyes closed, bodies free of restraint and just swing.

thanks to everyone in Brasil for allowing me in on another secret.

Porto Seguro

2007-03-25T12:03:00.000-07:00

21st March - 26th March

Porto Seguro is a colorful yet mild comparison to Salvador, a major city in the north that prides itself on true Bahian culture, food and history. Therefore, I will offer you Porto Seguro by means of a visual tour. Enjoy!

Paraty & Trindade

2007-03-25T11:56:00.000-07:00

16th March - 21st March

Paraty is an old romantic colonial town of 10,000. The streets are well preserved and offer night performers a home for their shows and stunts.

The town is surrounded by steep jungle mountains and secluded beaches, a well kept secret among Brazilian tourists. During an evening stroll, soothing sounds of bossa nova and forro are heard in many dark-lit cafes.

********************************************************************
A well deserved introduction is due to a trio that entertained a greater part of southeast Brasil for many days and nights. This trio has been compared by many to ´The Three Amigos´, ´The Three Stooges` and ´The Three Muskateers`; they had courage, they had style and, most importantly, they did not take themselves seriously FOR A SINGLE MOMENT (even under physical force and bribery). For your pleasure and enjoyment, they are Benjamin, Zhenia and Neil.

Ladies and Gentlemen: a moment that must never be forgotten. Here, Benjamin is accosted and taken advantage of by the local loco, a woman of boundless beauty, brilliance and seduction. Later in the evening, she gave him a sweet love bite on his shoulder with her jagged teeth when he least expected it. With her leading the crowd, we all pissed in our pants from laughter.

A short bus ride south of Paraty sits Trindade, a quiet beach town of a few hundred residents and easily one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. Benjamin and Neil, having visited Trindade resently, decided to take us on a sightseeing day tour. Here, we climb through thick jungle and mud paths to get to the mystical ´Rock that Swallows`.

Miscellaneous pics:

Ilha Grande

2007-03-25T11:25:00.000-07:00

8th March - 15th March

Rio felt too big to swallow in a few days so we decided to head to the south coast where the beaches are pristine and the island philosophy of "do less, enjoy more" rules. Upon our arrival, there was an agreed moment of silence for we had nothing more to say.

Mishka and Sergey were the ultimate comic duo during our stay. These two clowns couldn´t stop posing as they both love the spotlight.

Even mouia found a moment to pose in the new "all hangs out" bikini.

The dirt and rock tracks that twist and wind around the island provide a great way to see the different coast formations, jungles and beaches. We wasted no time (actually 6 days post arrival) to hike to Dos Rios, a 2 hour trail to the southeast of the island. At 11 a.m. there was much energy and enthusiasm. Beautiful plant life covered the whole trail. One could spend days just picking up flowers left behind by mother earth.

Hot, sweaty and bothered, we arrived to Dos Rios and sank our feet into the cool sand.

On the way back we huffed, puffed (the color of Talia´s face says it all) and struggled to catch the last beams of light before darkness set in on the jungle. Things got a little bit crazy.

This picture was taken when Sergey was leaving and we all stayed on the dock until his ferry disappeared from the horizon. Much credit is due to you, Seryoshka, for slipping a joke at awkward moments and being a true gentleman.

Ilhe Grande is a harmony of percussion, guitar and sweat left over by the heat of the day. A tiny church sits midst a white-washed plaza square, a meeting point for many and the musical center of the busy island town. The breeze is cool at night and on the weekends sun-kissed locals and tourists come out in their tropical costumes and walk over bridges and awkward cobblestone streets that trail away like sea snakes underwater. When the late night drums and hip swaying ends and my feet are tired, the sand and water lovingly invite and we wait for the kiss of the morning sun on our faces and tired flesh.

Rio de Janeiro

2007-03-25T11:15:00.000-07:00

1st March - 7th March

Arriving into Rio from the cold fronts of the Bay Area felt like a sweaty, sticky affair filled with titilating views of Brazilian men and women in all their uninhibited glory. The general attitude here is...the less you wear the more comfortable you are. This wild city breathes rhythm and sex. Here, you are truly welcome.

Seeing Sasha after 11 months made the 30 hour flight that much worth it. The first few hours felt unreal.

Another moment to highlight: the smiles and laughter that Mishka effortlessly brought out in all of us. What a charmer!

While waiting for Sergey, our younger cousin to arrive for a brief visit, we stayed in Ipanema, known for its beautiful beaches and the famous bossa nova song "The Girl from Ipanema".

Brazil~s most famous icon, Mr. JC himself. Bless him.

A bird´s eye view of Rio from JC´s perspective.

Mountenous Rio at night. The beaches to the left of the photo are Copacabana and Ipanema.

As soon as Sergey arrived and the Nagorny´s finally reunited, all was set into motion. Let the party begin...

The Odysseus Team hit the U.K and San Francisco

2007-02-26T00:06:00.000-08:00

15th February - 1st March

Bangkok was the very last stop for the Odysseus Travel Team before they split up. Tom went to the U.K. to see his family and is looking as adorable as ever...

...and has even managed to pursuade his mom to buy him a pair of posh Victorian shoes.

On the other side of the Atlantic, Zhenia arrived for a 2 week stop-over in San Francisco to visit a few close friends and family before heading to Brazil to see Sasha for a month. The city truly provides the best transition from a long trip abroad back to America but the February chill took a bit longer to get adjusted to. The red hat is signature and compliments of Dan's mom.

Dan and I attended a fundraiser which provided pure karaoke entertainment plus cheap booze. Here, Dan and Mark sing Natalie Imbrulia's Torn with much charisma and spunk.
The true posers of the night: Dan and Sam, a dear friend and one of the organizers of the event.
On a pleasantly clear afternoon, we decided to walk through much of the city. One of the first stops: the de Young museum had a fantastic (and free) scultpure garden.

I also got a chance to see my uncle and aunt who had recently moved from Toledo (Ohio) to San Jose, another great reason to visit the West Coast more often. We started the day with a cosy lunch in Dan's apartment which overlooks Baker Beach. ...and then headed out to enjoy a bit of sightseeing.
With a short break from San Francisco on a Greyhound to Los Angeles, I paid a sweet visit to my old high school buddies, Rona and Dennis. With Rona's sass and Dennis' culinary genius, little entertainment was needed and we passed the time laughing and drinking delicious wine (hey i'm in wine country). A toast to the best chicken parm this side of the Mason-Dixie; a toast to old and new reunions.
These two weeks included many wonderful meetings and conversations. Thanks to everyone who came out to enjoy the silliness. Here are other pictures of interest...

Malacca returns

2007-02-08T22:08:00.000-08:00

30th January - February 10th

Malacca is like an awaiting breeze on a hot, spicy day-another reason why we found ourselves back in her presence and charm.

There is an old Chinese man that sits in his house at nights and watches his TV screen while on the other side there are football goals and the crowd is roaring. He sees me peeking into his window and smiles and yells out for me, "Newcastle 2, WestHam 0". An elderly Malay woman sits every morning across Sama-Sama guesthouse where we stay and waves us a hello. Her eyes glow with youth.

Our morning ritual begins at a local Chinese coffee shop where the customers don't say much but their orders haven't changed for at least 20 years. We were sure that the (frighteningly) serious woman, who serves us "Kopi-O and Kopi Ice" in these last few weeks, isn't a human but a zombie. She never smiles but in the last 3 days something strange has been happening. We caught her laughing out loud to another customer and couldn't help but laugh along.

The weekly night market fills Jonker Walk with lights and cooking smells and chatting noise while the antique boutiques fill with eager shoppers on spending holidays. Doggo, Sama-Sama's adopted street dog, follows us, wagging her happy moods. We know where we're going: toward a Nyonyan couple who know our order well: "fresh popiahs with chilli and no meat, yes?" We like watching the wife while she generously adds cucumber, corriander and the sauteed cabbage that glistens in its boiling pot to the thin crepe and then rolls it all into a bomb-shell of a meal.

We walk back to Sama-Sama, to the familiar faces of the slow travellers that stay in Malacca for weeks. Like us. We share stories and teach each other card games and dice games that will be taught in other parts of the world. Gabby and Soon, the guesthouse owners, sit and chat and smoke and laugh along while the night moves and the market passes to another weekend.

Nothing much changes when nothing much happens and the days blend into each other. Malacca is a lovely place to stumble upon and wait for a dentist appointment.

Ubud

2007-01-25T01:59:00.000-08:00

22nd January - 28th January

After our gruelling rescue diving training we headed back to Bali and decided to head for the hills, chill out amongst the rice paddies with the aim of doing nothing but eating well and reading a good book.

Ubud itself seems to be very spiritually inclined, even by Balinese standards. A Hindu temple on almost every corner and most of the old houses were indistinguishable from the temples. Here's a more ostentatious example...
...and one of the more basic doorways...(for those of you who don't know, the swastika is an ancient Hindu symbol)

The pavements are strewn with offerings that the Balinese put out every morning. Sometimes just rice but often flowers in banana leaf baskets with incense.
This lady goes through the offerings ritual for the entire street...
We did take a few trips around however, the first to the local monkey forest. More like a jungle with some frightening sculpture...
No photos of monkeys this time, they steal everything and if you fight them for it, they'll bite you. Here's a more tame variety...

Another of our jaunts was a walk around the local countryside (read rice paddies)....

We witnessed some back breaking work done by the farmers. This crafty lady however was making a killing selling coconut milk to passersby...

......and proceeded to rip us off with the old "no change" routine, what was to become a typical Indonesian encounter.Bali is beautiful but towards the end of our travels we are tiring of the bullshit, hassling and scam artists plaguing tourists. Where else can we go but back to Malaysia for some lazy and familiar comforts as Bali waves us a goodbye...

Gili Trawangan

2007-01-25T01:52:00.000-08:00

13th January - 22nd January

For us,

Indonesia

began on a remote island off the coast of Lombok. In the early dawn fisherman walk out into the sea and spread their nets while their wives wait patiently underneath the shade of a palm tree. While they sit, they supportively nudge their sisters with advice and remedy while their children play in the nearby sand. Behind the main street, sits a quiet village where not much happens but everything happens. There are two mosques that seem to be competing for the loudest and longest sermon while we sit quietly and listen to the call to prayer. Horse carts and bicycles are the main mode of transportation for both tourists and locals down the 2 km main drag. There are no roads, just dust and gravel.

An elderly lady sits crouched on the asphalt with baskets and bowls at her feet, feeding our hungry bellies with fresh gado-gado and tempe curry. She takes out a triangle-rolled palm leaf and opens it up to reveal rice that’s been cooked the old-fashion way, for hours and on low heat. The flavors of her dishes are a different mixture of peanuts, spices and coconut milk that we have not had before. We visit her everyday. “Good morning” and “Thank you very much” in Indonesia Bahasa always gets a smile from her and others not expecting.

The sunsets are sealed with color and the mist on the mountainside facing us makes us awake and silent.

Kuala Lumpur

2007-01-08T18:22:00.000-08:00

6th January - 9th January

Kuala Lumpur is a tall city, filled with skyscrapers that seem to have taken root midst historic districts and local markets. At first sight, or at least from our guesthouse window, KL feels like a familiar city, smelling of sewer and infested with all kinds of underground creature and crawlers. After we've had enough of the morning traffic noise, we boarded the monorail and headed to the Lake Garden district.

But first, we passed the old train station, an old gothic building with Islamic features and curves.
The National Mosque can house 15,000 worshippers and stands magnificent and serene.

A fountain near the mosque.

No monkeying around for Tommy-on the way to the gardens!
After many hills and stopovers, we reached the Lake Garden. The Hibiscus and Orchid Garden was a haven for the specially delicate flowers.
Finally, the Butterfly Garden was the real highlight. Thousands of butterflies scattered a jungle-covered area filled with fish and turtle ponds, tropical flowers and trees while children ran around in a flurry.
This indian-leaf butterfly resembled a dead leaf so well that it took us a minute to spot it.
Onward to Indonesia! First stop: Bali and then Lombok. See you soon.

Malacca

2006-12-25T04:02:00.001-08:00

23rd December - 4th January

Recommended by a fellow traveller as a quiet and historic town in Malaysia, we boarded a long-day bus to Malacca and arrived on a Friday evening. Also much recommended (and we thank Dan from the bottom of our hearts) was the Sama-Sama guesthouse where owners Soon and Gabby were the most gracious of hosts.

The 6-day floods had finally moved on and the weekend markets opened their doors and stalls to the Christmas shopping masses that shuffled at a painfully long pace down Jonker Walk, known as the antique street in Malacca's Chinatown.

Here is a view of Jonker Walk from the historic Cheng Ho Museum, which outlines Chinese explorations of Africa, Latin America, California and South East Asia years before Columbus was even born.

The next day Tom spotted a Morris Minor parked on Jonker Walk. What a sighting!

Malacca's personality begins with the holiday inspired rickshaws and their kooky drivers. Many are decorated with fancy plastic flowers, religious icons and are mostly connected to a boom-box with speakers and CD players so the customers can enjoy quality booming 80's techno music. It's all too kitsch.A famous Portugees Settlement, dating back to the 1500's, hosts a massive Christmas celebration with a mass, carols and loads of Portugese food stalls. In the evening, we took a town bus and got off where the crowds began to appear. Tom was a bit bored during the mass but the carols were wonderful, sung by a school chorus. As soon as the ceremony ended, out came the canned snow (soap suds in a spray can) and silly string and before we knew it (as the foreign novelty) we were attacked by the giggling youth wherever we went.

Tom got especially teased by groups of young girls and didn't really stand a chance to defend himself. Since we usually spend Christmas in Leeds with the Lyons', this year we decided to not try and imitate a home Christmas and instead opted for a Nyonyan (Chinese and Malay mixed cuisine) meal at a nearby restaurant.

Malacca has many beautiful temples, varying from Chinese Buddhist and Taoist...

to Indian temples, like the famous Sri Mahamariaman Hindu Temple with its fancy big-bellied deities...
...and the Kampung Kling Mosque, which is one of the oldest mosques in Malaysia. Instead of a conventional dome, it has a three-tiered roof rising like a pyramid and is just one of many examples of the mixture of East-West architectural influence.

Here Doggo, the resident guesthouse pooch joins the call to prayer with some tuneful howling..

Malacca also sits on a quiet river and occasional long-tail boats whizz through.

New Years was also spent in Malacca since this wonderful little town easily kept our cultural interests, our appetites and our thirsts satisfied. Here Zhenia and Christine from Zurich get started on the Thai whisky, though Christine will fiercely deny the rumor.

From left to right, Marco of Germany(via Indonesia), Sean of Portsmouth and Dan of Toronto. The party came out onto the streets as a few fireworks shot into the sky on the stroke of midnight.
The two of us, our first pic of 2007.

Marco and Zhenia enjoy a giggle.

A picture of the New Year's gang. If you're concerned, Tom isn't smoking but merely posing for his new year's resolution: to look tough and mean.

The Jungles of Cameron Highlands

2006-12-23T00:58:00.001-08:00

21st December - 22nd December

2,000 meters above sea level in central peninsular Malaysia sit the Cameron Highlands. We decided to take a break in the high mountains for a couple of days before continuing south for Christmas.

The first day pissed it down but the second proved to be a bit more welcoming so we heading out for a jungle walk...but first we found an enormous scorpion on the sidewalk; this bad boy was a good 7 inches long.

Tally, Ho! Come on George! Come on Timmy, lets go rescue Anne from the wicked Skunk Ape of jungle mountain!

Deeper in the jungle, the sunlight began to shine though the canopy creating a beautiful effect with the mist.

A birds nest fern hangs enormously at the top of the trees and is a common sight in the tropics.

The mountain paths were difficult, to say the least, especially after a week of rain. We slipped in the mud several times and had to almost get on all fours to get under some of the fallen trees. At times we wondered whether it was wise wondering off without a guide and only a rudimentary map.

That was until we reached the top and found ourselves surrounded by school kids from Kuala Lumpur on camp for the Christmas holiday.

After an hour we finally made it back down, here Zhenia poses next to a stream.

While asking for directions back to town Tom got stuck discussing the merits of Arsenal and Thierry Henry with a local hiker.

Georgetown or Pulau Penang

2006-12-23T00:57:00.000-08:00

17th December - 20th December

Our first stop in Malaysia was the island of Penang, which literally translates from Malay as "Betel Nut Island". Given to the British by Sultan Kedah in 1771 in a deal for protection from foreign invaders, Georgetown was founded by Sir Francis Light and became a thriving trade port for the East India Company. The Chinese and Indians came as merchants and labor workers and never left. Now the island's colonial days are over and the world praises it for it's ethnic and religious diversity and it's absolutely superb cuisine. Infact, it is quite common to run into a Hindu temple, a Chinese Temple, a Mosque and a Church on the same block. Similarly, the ethnic groups have also build gastronomical bridges with cuisines of South India, China, and Malay.

Here's Tom with a delicious mug of massala tea, enjoyed by everybody on the streets...

...while Zhenia digs into her vegetarian set consisting of popadom, roti canai, lentil dall, chutney, alou gobi (something similar anyway) and a big heap of rice - all for one US dollar.

A close up of ABC (Air Batu Campur), a Malay desert consisting of crushed ice flavoured with various syrups, sweet corn and red beans. Zhenia, of course, demolished this in no time and refused to let me publish the evidence.

At a fruit market Tom holds up a Jack fruit, which smells mildly better than its sewer-smelling cousin, the Durian fruit.

A view of our street in Chinatown. The streets are usually quiet and look lost or asleep in some old time.

Once an old colonial building this music shop in Little India counts Jesus and Ganesh as it's sponsors.

We spent the rainy days sitting on the porch of our guesthouse - here I am looking very pleased with my new shirt I found in a Thai thrift shop for pennies.

On one of the warmer days we decided to get out of the heat and spend the hottest part of the afternoon in the Indian cinema watching the latest Bollywood box office hit. No subtitles but who needed them? Lots of singing, dancing and the wafer thin melodramatic plot was easy enough to follow. A sensational riot of funabration.....ness...

Lastly, at Batu Ferrenghi, a beach coast on the island, we spotted two 4-ft Monitor lizards sunbathing on the rocks.

Bangkok

2006-12-01T21:56:00.000-08:00

Anyone who has been to Thailand for more than a month has been to and fro Bangkok too many times to count on one hand. This entry consists solely of pictures of this great city, one of many faces, ironies, humor and let's not forget, smiles.

Pat waves at entering Humphaluong Train Station, our favorite station in the world.

The city is filled with fast-flying mopeds, bulletins, smells of great variety and little nooks that make it a great place to stay.

A view from a quiet part of town, right near banks of the Thewet Ferry.

Chillies drying in the day market.

Wat Benchamabophit (the Marble Temple) on Sri Ayuttaya Road.

You can buy fish food on the Thewet Pier and feed the hungry mongers, while the pigeons look on hungrily.

The Leaning Buddha (reaching nirvana) at Wat Pho, Thailand's largest and oldest temple.

At a night market kids try to catch fish through a rice paper sieve and get a prize.

Since this is our last entry in Thailand as we are off to Malaysia in a few days for some new adventures, we would like to thank everyone who has been a part (directly and indirectly) of these last two wonderful months. Names not be mentioned, you know who you are. Chok-dee-kaa!!

Happy Birthday, Mama Raia!!!

2006-12-01T04:16:00.000-08:00

4th December

Happy Birthday, mama!!! What a special day for you and so many people around you. For those that cannot be near you to kiss you and hug you, here's a little collage I put together for your birthday enjoyment.

Remember when Sasha and I looked like this?

And Sasha always seemed to be hungry, either munching on something crunchy or waiting sadly for a potato to boil.

You and papa had just gotten married and everything seemed so new and exciting.

And we always loved the way papa looked at you and wanted that same loving glance with our own men.
And all the pictures looked like this, full of memories and stories; always so many stories.

Meeting old friends included tables of food and never feeling too tired at the end of the night.
Remember the first few months in America? Sasha and I were always playing some game, making a funny face at papa's camera lens. Everything was a celebration; everything seemed to be happening for the first time.

Here's a toast to you, in Russian and in English, across the globe in Thailand, Ukraine, Russia, and America. For your health and happiness, 12 hours ahead (for me) and with smiling faces around you right now, eating home food and drinking a roomka of vodka with a zakuska. But before we drink...

Copy the following link into your browser, press PLAY and enjoy your surprise....http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFMolOtRFiY.

I love you, mama and happy birthday from the both of us.

Zhenia and Tom

Phi Phi Islands for Incredible Diving

2006-12-01T04:03:00.001-08:00

24th November - 30th November

After the utter disappointment that Koh Tao, our diving destination, has been greeted by a typhoon, we didn't waste anytime planning to dive somewhere else. The Phi Phi Islands boasts to have the most beautiful diving in Thailand and we rushed there to get started. Shortly after, we struck up a good deal with a Moskito Diving, a 5 Star Padi dive shop and began our Open Water course with David, our Swedish instructor.

Our Open Water course was mostly a breeze, though we studied hard and didn't entertain the idea of partying even for a minute. The first few dives were a bit awkward but we tempered on and finished the course. Here, we sit with David and smile before we plunged into the waters around Bidah Nok.

Here, we celebrate finishing the course and being able to dive on our own.

Our last dive was so much fun that we all agreed to do the Advanced Open Water and begged for David to be our instructor once again. We did the course on the Excalibur, a luxury boat with a captain, a full time cook and staff to help us with everything from filling up our air tanks to helping us out of the water.
Tom was so proud of his new mustache (aided by the stinking compliments of both Pat and Sarah) that he looked forward to each picture with a smirk.
The water was pleasant and calm on our liveboard and as far as the eye could see there was no one to interrupt our paradise. Pats burnt face says it all.

This picture was taken right before our night dive, where we saw many coral dwellers too scared to come out during the day.

We finished the Advanced Water course with flying colors and enjoyed every minute of it. To top it all off we saw soft blue coral, a haven for all the tropical fish in the best of the fish books, along with zebra sharks, a turtle, a black and white spotted lobster, moray eels and so much more. Congratulations to the Moskito Team NYC!

Koh Phayam

2006-12-01T04:03:00.000-08:00

18th November - 23rd November

With Sarah as the new addition to the travelling crew, we headed over to Koh Phayam, a small island still in its beginning stages of tourism where bungalows are scattered on the beachfront and electricity is powered solely by generators and solar panels.

Tom got sick (again) and was in bed for two days while we got stuck in paradise for longer than we had planned (how very disappointing).

We spent every day walking on the shore and collecting beautiful shells. Here is Zhenia's collection for the day though she returned it all back to the sea after the picture was taken.

The sand crabs were everywhere, nesting little balls of sand in explosions of star-shapes and then rushing back to their holes for safety.

Baby sand dwellers leave their mark.
The sunset was SHOCKINGLY beautiful.

And by night, the little fellers come out in all shapes and sizes. We all found little friends everywhere on the beach. Pat was no exception.

We took very few pictures here we're afraid, we were too busy drinking Whisky sodas on the beach while Tom sweated his fever out in bed.

Prachaup Khiri Khan

2006-12-01T04:01:00.000-08:00

14th November - 16th November

On a whim we decided to stop in this nondiscript town and on arrival we were pleased to find that the three of us made up half the backpacking population.

Our first day was spent on the beach that, strangely, is located within the local air force base. We won't bore you with beach pictures, suffice to say that the sea was warm and the beer cold.

The next morning Pat and I decided to go to the north of town to climb Khao Chong Krajok or Mirror Tunnel Mountain for the view but mainly to feed the monkeys.

This old man just sat at the bottom watching the world go by.

We picked up a bunch of bananas and several bags of peanuts from this lady who kindly accompanied us all the way to the top with a catapult, lest the monkeys rip us to shreads - the greedy little bastards. I'm firmly of the opinion that she saved us from being eaten alive or at the very least a serious case of rabies.
Here Pat nears the top, joined by a little guy grabbing peanuts from his hand.

Pat begins to be surrounded. The smaller one has his eyes on the bananas just out of shot, fortunately so was our protector with her catapult so he didn't dare climb up Pat's leg.

Ayuthaya

2006-11-12T03:17:00.000-08:00

10th November - 12th November

Surrounded by three rivers converging, the island of Ayuthaya was once the capital and cultural centre of Thailand from 1350 to 1767. Now a UNESCO heritage site, it is home to several sets of ruined Wats (a Buddhist temple/monastery).

Consequently, travellers from all over the world come here to sweat their balls off cycling from Wat to Wat in the searing heat with the only shade taken up by the resident packs of rabid dogs.

Fortunately for us, however, we decided to start our own cycling tour in the evening while the Wat were closed. After a shaky start, getting lost and then chased by a pack of dogs we found ourselves at Wihaan Phra Mongkhon Bophit and bribed the security to let us in while it was still lit.

There were owls and large fruit bats roaming the sky. Zhenia caught one on camera flying past one of the Praang.
Towards the end, Pat got spiritual. There can be only one!

The next day was hot but we sucked it up and got on our bikes. Here's the Chedi at Wat Phra Ratburana.

One of the many mange dogs relaxing after a busy night in the shade.

Zhenia looks serene at Wat Phra Mahathat.

One of the major tourist snapshots - the Buddha head engulfed in tree roots.

A grumpy and sweaty Pat sits in the shade after we cut the tour short in favour of drinking beer.

We thought it was a branch floating by until we realized that there's no current in the moat. A four foot monitor lizard.

Nong Khai

2006-11-12T03:13:00.000-08:00

6th November - 9th November

Once in Nong Khai we were told by everyone and their Thai girlfriend to go and see Sala Kaew, a sculptural park that includes some very bizarre, surreal and creatively impressive concrete statues filled with Hindu and Buddhist imagery.

As the story goes, Luang Poo Boun Leau Sourirat, a Lao national, tumbled into a hole as a child, where he met an ascetic named Kaewkoo, who introduced him to the manifold mysterials of the underworld and set him on course to become a Brahmanic yogi-priest-shaman. As a sign of his gratefulness, Luang build the park and named it after his teacher.

Before we set off for the park, however, Zhenia bought a hat - simply charming!

To get to the park we rented bicycles. In the background, Pat's foot is hanging mid-air.

As we approached the park an enormous concrete Buddha appeared right in front of us.

On entry into the park we were immediately confronted with one of the more bizarre sculptures: a pack of dogs wielding booze, guns, riding motorbikes (all with erections) angrily surrounding a huge elephant.

A 27 foot seven headed Naga. Pat enters the jaws of the 'Wheel of Life', considered to be the main spectacle of the park.

One of the stranger representations in the 'Wheel of Life': adultery. Here the husband slaps his mistress while his wife looks on laughing. In the background you can see two skeletons representing the death of love.

In the middle of the wheel sits a large head with many little heads on top of it, representing (according to the artist's view) the many faces that a person has throughout his/her life. From bottom to top in order: your best face, your most evil face, again your best face, your strange face, an even stranger face, the snake, good face, zero. If you ask us, the whole thing is strange but curiously interesting.

A reclining Buddha. All the details on the head and the torso are the artist's own design.

More information and pictures about the park can be found at www.mutmee.com, just click on the 'Town to Explore' section. Also, a digital version of the above "Wheel of Life" is available on the same website.

Pat and Tom were later given a brief tour of the main building, a shrine to Luang Poo Boun Leau Sourirat himself, which included his mummified body (no pictures allowed, unfortunately). The most fun in the park, though, was feeding the fish.

Later, we celebrated another religious monument, a massive rotisserie chicken machine and shared a spiritual moment around a whole chicken (feet and all).

Spreading the Avian Flu

2006-11-08T23:26:00.000-08:00

Before being entirely done with Laos, I would like to leave a humorous, yet true, episode.

After leaving the crew for some well deserved peace and quiet, Pat caught up on our 2nd day in Vang Vieng. Shortly after, he fell seriously ill of what he thought was the Avian Flu as he shared his train carriage with a cage of chickens. Not long afterwards, the rest of us (I'm talking Phil, Ursula, Sean, Tom and myself) fell ill with the same bug and were practically glued to our bed for days. Symptoms included extreme body aches, severe headache and a fever that had buckets of sweat dripping off us. I swore up and down that it HAD to be Dengue. Good thing we were all supplied with antibiotics and managed to crawl out of an emergency state to a somewhat normal state with hacking coughs.

Crossing the Friendship Bridge and back into beautiful Thailand made us all sigh with release because we were on our way back to health and sanity. However, our first guest house over the border in Nong Khai was run by a very fruity set of aging ex-pat hippies that charged three times the price for beer but still expected you to serve yourself. Real put-on shit!! Our goal: to disseminate the killer Avian Flu to at least 2/3 of the granola crunching population of Mut Mee Guest House and leave unnoticed. So far we have been able to detect 3 people with our familiar raspy cough.

All that's left to say is, "Can't you feel the love in this house, man? You look like you need a hug!".

Laos, The Land of A Million Elephants

2006-10-23T04:04:00.000-07:00

24th October - 7th November

We crossed into Laos at Huay Xai and caught the two day slow boat down the Mekong. Destination: Luang Prabang. An uneventful night was spent at the half way stop Pak Beng - a veritable shit hole; an over priced tourist trap. Luckily, we managed to find probably the worst guesthouse in town - despite the clear grafittied warnings....

The two days on the boat were pleasant with river views of working elephants and suicidal speedboat captains. We were, however, glad to reach Luang Prabang. Here's the sunset view across the Mekong from our guesthouse.

Inside, here was one of many of our fellow guests. This ol' girl was about as big as your big toe.

Who wants to be a Millionaire? Here, Casey basks in his first and last moment of glory of holding 1 Million Kip, equivalent to about $100. Luang Prabang is a busy and lovely little city, literally made up of three main streets. The Hmong Night Market heaved with street vendors selling textiles, handicrafts, mulberry-paper lanterns and other souveniers for what seemed to be entirely for tourists. We ate like kings from the street food vendors on grilled fish, whole roasted chicken, papaya salad and ubiquitous sticky rice.

The Phu Si temple, bang in the middle of town on a hill gave us a stunning view of Luang Prabang. However, due to the editors dicision to cut down on boring landscape shots, here's zhenia's stolen shot of the monks inside. This one was smoking a fag.

The lying Buddha sleeps...

...while Sean prays with the disciples.

Tat Kuang Si. The most stunning waterfall i've ever seen in my life. Further down stream it broke out into pristeen turquoise swimming pools where we jumped from over hanging trees.

Here's the view from the very top. The path takes you right across the very edge of the fall.
Before arriving in Vientiane, our last stop in Laos, we stopped off in Vang Vieng for some outdoor recreation (btw Vang Vieng is the tubing capital of the country). We floated down the Nam Song River in big black rubber doughnuts and every hundred meters was a makeshift bar that served us a Beer Lao and offered us some silly entertainment. It's funny to note that it took us the entire day to make the 3 km trip down the stream.

On a more productive day, we decided to hike to Tham Phu Kham cave, which also boasts a lagoon. The hike started early and the 6 km through a shade-less road wasn't enjoyable but the scenery was wild. Part of the US led carpet bombing campaign in the 1960's, these bombs have been recycled to mark where the road begins and ends. The entire countryside seemed to be surrounded by golden rice fields and rugged mountain peaks.
A sweet farewell image from Vang Vieng as Ursula walks across a newly-made bamboo bridge on the Nam Song River.

Don't you love the sentiment?

Pai ปาย

2006-10-21T03:12:00.000-07:00

17th - 23rd October

One of those old hippie stops, Pai, is now packed full of aging fareng coining it on the tourism trade - those dirty sell outs. It's also a a damn good time surrounded by serene mountain jungle packed full of insects the size of your fist.
Here's where we lay our heads at night.....a sweet bungalow shack with stalks of green bamboos growing on all sides.
Our first full day happened to be Phil's 30th birthday so Pat and Tom planned a white water rafting trip down the Pai river.......but not before we got Phil completely hammered the night before.
The next day, as the hangover was creeping back, we tightened our helmets and lifejackets and boarded our rafting boats. Down the Kong and Pai Rivers, we passed some killer waves and scarry whirlpools...Tom's look says it all.
Another stop down the river was a 7 meter cliff from which almost everyone (minus Zhenia) jumped into the rushing waters. Here, Tom cliff jumping mid-stream....
After a day of recovery we rented bikes and headed out of town and over the mountains to the Mo Paeng waterfall. But before we got to the waterfalls, we passed some Elephant camps with many baby elephants.
Here, Tom takes a dive down the rock slide.

That day we decided to continue our expedition and see the Lot Caves. Here, Tom poses with mini Sean on Pai's lookout.
The Lot Caves rise in height of nearly 60 meters. It's a wild scene when one realizes that all the shapes and contours within the cave were caused by water. In one of the caves a wooden coffin was found so there must have been a civilization that lived in this magical darkness.
We needed to take a bamboo raft to get to the main attractions in the cave.

Later....a view of Pai from above from the Wat Mae Sen.

Fanny (from Paris), Pat and Zhenia took a ride through Pai. Rice paddies grow wild here.

We never got to our destination but took a walk through the jungle that surrounds Pai. The fullness and vastness of life here is unimaginable. It is everywhere you look.

Many of nights were spent at Taku Art Bar, a chill loungy venue with great artwork by our friend (from Chiang Mai) Suwat Arvui. Here is the large gecko he sculpted from metal that hangs above the bar.
Here, he poses holding a marble (yes, the stone) lamp. Zhenia and Ursula swear by it.
Note: A GREAT BIG thanks to Suwat for all his advice on Pai, the best Thai food we EVER had and for all your 'love and happiness'. You're truly a guru!!

Chiang Mai - เชียงใหม่

2006-10-15T21:27:00.000-07:00

12th October - 17th October

We arrived to Chiang Mai with the Avenue I gang and before we could figure out a local bus route to our guesthouse of choice, we saw two guys from BANANA guesthouse waiting for us at the train station! A breeze of a tuk-tuk ride later, we ordered some kao-soi (curry noodles served with red shallots, pickled cabbage and some damn-HOT chilly paste) and sat back feeling satisfied from head to toe.

Everyone in Chiang Mai, or anywhere in mainland Thailand, rides mopeds. Even the elderly ride it wild without a helmet. By word of mouth, we were recommended to see the waterfalls in Mae Rim just 25 minutes north of Chiang Mai.
Here, our partners in crime, Phil and Ursula (another great Brooklynite travelling in SE Asia), ride the country roads to the waterfalls.

Here, Phil poses in front of the Mae Sa waterfall. The waterfall was beautiful and the misty air cooled us instantly but the brownish color of the water, especially after the recent flooding in the area and the 'parasitic leeches' we read about in the papers, changed our minds about taking a dip.

On our ride back to Chiang Mai, we stopped at the Insect Museum, which happened to be closed. So we spotted a farmer tending his double-hunchback cows, a new variety to us.
Chiang Mai has a famous Sunday Night Bazaar whose legacy dates back to the original Yunnanese trading caravans that stopped here along the ancient trade route between Simao (China) and Mawlamyine (on Myanmar's Indian Ocean coast). On Sundays, half the city is closed down to allow street vendors and local artisans to show off their art and craftwork of wood, jewelry, clothing, etc. In addition, Chiang Mai boasts to have as many wats (or Buddhist temples) as Bangkok, even though the city is much smaller in size than the capital. Here, is an example of such a wat.
Our stay in Chiang Mai wouldn't be the same if it weren't for all the great people we met there. This page MUST end to Chiang Mai's hospitality and her cool residents: Suwat, a teacher cum artist cum bar-owner cum social slut extraordinaire from Pai taking a break to see his bar owner friend in Chiang Mai. He could be found spending hours drawing the customers at the Freedom Bar, our main entertainment base in Chiang Mai.
Zhenia helped Hoy paint the front of the Freedom Bar. Here, she giggles at the camera.
Jennifer, another wonderful Brooklynite teaching in Russia for the last two years, also was a solid member of the Freedom Bar/Avenue I-in-Thailand crew.
And last but not least, Selly, the owner of the Freedom Bar who fed and satisfied the thirst of many, many customers in the larger Chiang Mai area. We love you!!

Koh Pha Ngan - เกาะพะงัน

2006-10-08T23:54:00.000-07:00

5th October - 10th October

Following a week long stay in Beijing and our 6th month anniversary on the road, we were too eager to see the familiar faces of our Brooklyn friends and booked a flight to Bangkok. An overnight train, a ferry and a taxi ride later, we arrived onto the sandy beaches and leafy goodness of Koh Pha Ngan, where the famous full moon (along with black moon and half moon-damn! the Thais sure know how to have a good time) parties are held.Our first few moment with Pat, Phil and Sean were spent goofing around in our new base, the Lighthouse Guesthouse.Most of our evenings were spent in Haatrin, drinking buckets of thai whiskey and red bull, chiang beer and "special" shakes. Here Zhenia (the undisputed party Queen) holds court....
The boys from Brooklyn: me, Pat, Phil and Sean Casey...
All the partying and tourists aside, Koh Pha Ngan is a haven of a place and offers spectacular views from every direction...a sure rest for the mind, body and soul. Oh yeah, and the daily Thai messages and Thai curries don't hurt either.

Here Zhenia has her party spectacles on, ready for a night out after watching the sunset.For the next four days, we can safely say we didn't do a great deal other than eat well, play lots of yatsi, drink bad thai whiskey and cool off in the sea. We didn't get a great deal of sleep - who would when you can stay up for a sunrise like this??

Beijing - 北京

2006-10-03T10:19:00.000-07:00

25th September - 4th October

We ended our Trans-Siberian route in Beijing, a city of grand (and at the same time--infinitely small detail) scale from architecture to landscape to people and, of course, food. This city is ALIVE beyond anything we have seen so far and the streets are surprisingly safe at night. We found the 'adapting to changes' in the category of food relatively easy after Mongolia's culinary delights of boiled mutton and (yak and goat) dairy products (no offense to Mongolia). We made our temporary home in the Dashilar district down the colorful and bustling hutong (narrow alleyway that create a circuit of never-ending streets and one-storey ramshackle dwellings and courtyards) off Quianmen Dajie.

The Forbidden City, the palace where the Ming and Qing dynasty resided (and forbade everyone else to visit or live alongside--hence the name) contains 800 buildings and 900 rooms. Unfortunately, the main ceremonial building was under construction (SHOCKER!!!) so Zhenia took it upon herself to pout away...

Buddists have their own way of 'acting' Buddists, hence the happy touching of the knobs of the front gate of the Forbidden City.

These glass sculpted ornaments were all over the place; we're talking doors, wall ornaments and garbage cans.

Behai Park is situated around the Beihai Lake and offers a splendid and serene atmosphere of a park with a lake. Here it is peaceful and relaxing...but don't forget the fierce salsa couples doin' their thing in the middle of the park.

The While Dagoba, built in 1651 for a visit by the Dailai Lama, sits splendidly in the background.

The Temple of the Heaven is a 267 hectare park which contains the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvest whose temple's wooden pillars support the ceiling without a single nail!!

Here Tom (as always) appreciates a finely-trimmed lawn at the Temple of Heaven Park.
We rented bicycles one morning and decided to see Beijing ourselves. To our suprise, the roads were really safe since bicyclists have their own lane and everyone rides like a buddist.We could not show our face again if we did not visit The Great Wall while in China...so, here it is. Tom, Miguel (from Argentina) and Vit (from L.A. via Czech Republic) act natural while climbing the steep hill that took us up to the Wall.
View from top.
After 2 hours of walking on the wall, Zhenia gives Tom (the photographer) a sexy pose as a testament of conquering the damn thing.
There was no end to the celebrating in Beijing and since the food was so good, Tom decided to risk a little (with Vit's help) and try the fried chicken head (in which he proceeded to suck out the brain in one quick inhale), the fried sparrow (several babies on a stick) and other kosher goodies.
Here, Tom's chicken head fights back for dear life.

Mongolia

2006-09-21T21:16:00.000-07:00

15th - 26th September

Our train carriage to Ulaanbaatar was full of tourists and a couple of Mongolians. On leaving the Russian border Zhenia orchestrated a Vodka toast that included everybody on the carriage (about 30 people) to celebrate our Russian exit.

We shared a compartment with Namsurem, a Mongolian woman who spoke Russian. Zhenia and her chatted and laughed so much on the train that she invited us out to a Dance & Song Concert where we finally got to hear the throat-singing we missed in Tuva!! Here's Namsurem and her 3 year old grandson, Temujin.
N.B. This is typical Zhenia and one of the reasons she makes such a great travel companion.

Earlier in the day we had got chatting to two Aussie girls, Mez and Emma, who were looking for people to fill their jeep to go out to central Mongolia for a 3 day horse riding trek. So, bright and early the next morning, an olive green Russian jeep with French-beret and leather vest wearing driver named Bairraa were waiting for us to set off. The 7 hour ride to the ancient capital, Kharkhorin, consisted entirely of unpaved dust roads, valium for motion sickness and autumn colors and landscape to boast about (if you were sober).
We crashed at a family ger (a large white felt tent used by nomadic Mongolians for shelter) for the night, which was comfortably equipped with electricity(powered by solar energy), a table with 6 chairs and a wood burning over for heat and cooking. Sleep was sweet. (see below for example)

The next morning we drove to the first Buddhist monastery in Mongolia called Erdene Zuu Khiid (Hundred Treasures). Built in 1586, it had between 60-100 temples, about 300 gers were set up inside the walls and up to 1,000 monks were in residence. Unfortunately, Stalin destroyed most of it but it is slowly being rebuilt.

We stopped for lunch overlooking the valley we were to head into. The skull of a horse ornates an ovoo, a pyramid-shaped collection of stones (wood or other offerings) placed on top of a hill or mountain pass in a shamanistic traditional offering to the gods.

Waterfall of Orkhon Khürkhree in the Övörkhanga Aimag region. We stayed the night here in another Ger before setting off by horse back to Naiman Nuur (Eight Lakes Region).

We each rented a horse and were guided by Tommur and his grandson. Here, Zhenia’s horse takes a drink before riding off for 65 km into complete wilderness.Never have we been surrounded by such an abundance of shit (yak, horse and cow) that we absolutely had to bring back the special photographic tribute to the SHIT (remember Sevilla and the Sahara?). It is so abundant here that locals use it for fuel instead of wood burning in ovens.
After a painful but exhilarating horse ride that took 8hrs we finally arrived at the nearest of the lakes. Here's our Ger at sunrise the next morning - very frosty.

.....and one of the very aggressive Yaks...

That day Zhenia decided to give her bum a rest so Tom went out with Tommur our Aussie friends to see the other lakes. Tom poses near the largest of the eight lakes. Tom and Tommur bonded while collecting pine cones for their nuts.

Our horses rest by a lake...Our guide, Tommur, takes a break and a cigarette...

While Tom was away Zhenia made friends with Tommur’s grandchildren. She made them a Wendy house for them out of an old bed frame. The girl is 4 and the boy is 5.

Later that night, after wondering what the awful stink was in our Ger we discovered several dried out sheep carcasses under our beds. Everything smelt of mutton, our clothes, beds, even our money. That night the party began. Out came their mp3/dvd player (powered by a car battery) and on came Madonna, Black Eyed Peas, even Goddamn Craig David. Zhenia got the dancing started (of course). And while we shared our Vodka with our hosts they pulled out Yak Vodka (distilled fermented Yak milk), a clear liquid that tasted like, er...off milk - pretty grim. We did enough shots with Tommur for him to do a special buggy-down Mongolian style for us with the ubiquitous cigarette hanging from his mouth.

In the morning (as if she didn’t have enough yak vodka and fun the night before), Zhenia decided to take a stab at yak riding. This picture was taken about 10 seconds before Tom slapped the Yaks behind to make Zhenia go flying.

Tom got really into his "cowboy" role and all the girls started calling him a man's man. He did however impress Tommur when he managed to stay in his saddle when the horse nearly fell flat on it's face while cantering cross country.

Back on the road on day 5 of our trip, we were all beginning to suspect Bairraa, our driver, of hustling us, the dodgy bastard. After the absolutely the last straw, we asked him to drive us back to Ulaanbaatar.

On our ride back, we spotted a community of vultures resting and double-hump camels getting ready for a trek.

The few days we had left in Mongolia were spent living it up in the city, eating great Korean food and drinking Mongolian pilsner in an English pub. China here we come....

Olkhon Island - Ольхон

2006-09-12T20:10:00.000-07:00

8th -12th September

Our bus driver wore a somber look at the Irkutsk bus station as we left to Olkhon Island. The day was gloomy and the autumn wind seemed to creep closer and closer. As we began to approach Lake Baikal 6 hours later, the body of water we would need to cross in order to get to our destination, he began to perk up with the rest of the local travelers.

As we crossed the lake by ferry and began driving to Khuzir, the main village on the island, we began to ask around in the bus for accommodation. A 40-something guy with crystal-blue eyes named Sasha offered us his house. All seemed to fall into place. What follows can only be described as a destined meeting and the best darn time anyone can ever want.

On the way to the island, we had began to chat with other travelers on the bus: Monica, an Austrian teacher living in Irkutsk teaching German, in love with the region of Lake Baikal and fluent in Russian, with an authoritative German accent; Agneshka, a Polish teacher living in Irkutsk teaching Polish; Matteias, a German violin maker living in Milano; and lastly, Cranmore and Anna, a Bristol couple who are on the road to Australia for a friends wedding. After a few laughs, all agreed to set our bags and bums at Sasha’s place and see what will come.

Once we arrived at Sasha’s, we met his mother Tamara, a hardworking village local with large stranglers hands and a larger than life hospitality. She heated the stove in our rooms, warmed up our backside and we toasted with vodka and slept like babies that night.

Sasha offered to give us a tour the next day in his olive Russian military ambulance jeep refurbished with faux marble vinyl and plenty of cheap carpet. While we bumpily drove to our first destination, Sasha began to give us a sense of Olkhon Island and its residents, an ethnic mix of Russians, native-Siberians, and Buryats living mostly harmonious. Many locals are Christian Orthodox but with an eastern blend of Shamanistic Buddhism. The island is considered sacred and spirit-filled and there is a great amount of energy in its waters and soil.

Zhenia at the "Three Brothers" above Cape Khoboy.

A blooming wild flower over looking Cape Khoboy. Tom and Zhenia on the purplish sandy beach on the shore of Maloe More on the western side of the island.Tom plays hide and seek.

We drove by plenty of horses that roam freely on the island.

Cows watch the sunset. The cows roam around freely in the street and often block shop doorways and force cars off the dirt track.
That night Sasha and his friend, Igor invited us for a little drink and some laughs. Here Sasha, Zhenia and Igor discuss the pros of having a mistress and a wife. This apparently is totally kosher in Russia.
Tom and Cranmore sit in the cab of Igor's luxury truck. Very drunk on Tamara's home made hooch. We both later drank even more with another friend of Sasha's, Sergey, who was a spy for the north vietnamese during the war. He made us arm wrestle him (we lost of course) and he made stabbing motions with his (large) knife everytime he mentioned americans. I don't think I've ever been so happy to be English.
The beautiful weather of Baba Leta (literally translated as Grandmother's Summer or two warm weeks in September) allowed Sasha to show us his favorite beach spot on the island, coincidently where he brings his mistress on their 'excursions'.
A view the from above.
Tom, the brave soul, was the first one to get into the waters. You can tell by his face just how cold it really was. Zhenia bravely tackles Lake baikal near naked.
Lake Baikal is known to be so clean that one can put a cup and drink it straight without worry (which we did). Here, cows stop for a water break.

Olkon Island is known for it's delicious and tender Omul fish. Fisherman are known to catch and sell Olkhon Omul all over Siberia and Russia. Since we were in the presence of a great fisherman, Sasha wanted to show us his net-catching tactics of fishing. Here, Tom, Matteias and Cranmore smile on the waters of Lake Baikal.
Cranmore and Tom are rowing, not posing. Sasha waits for the right moment to drop the net into the water.
The fishing team is quiet while Sasha carefully picks the net out of the water not to lose our catch.
At the end of the fishing trip, we proudly cooked our catch on the campfire and ate it proudly.
On the ferry back to Irkutsk, with a smile worth every penny.

Irkutsk - Иркутск

2006-09-12T20:07:00.000-07:00

6th - 7th September

Irkutsk, located smack in the middle of Siberia, is agreed by most to be a refreshing stop on the Trans-Siberian Railway only in the fact that the city is friendlier and more accommodating for backpackers with a budget. We stayed at the Irkutsk Downtown Hostel and were so excited about the full stacked kitchen with the decently sharpened knife that Zhenia cooked up a storm for the ENTIRE hostel, which included 11 travelers, Luidmila, the on-duty staff member, and her 19 year old son. Similar celebrations followed the next night but this time with Olga, one of our favorite hostel staffers EVER!

This picture was taken while Zhenia (after a few beers) held Olga to the security camera downstairs while Tom snapped the image on the screen upstairs at the hostel.

We took a break from camera snapping here so this is the only picture we have from our days in Irkutsk!

Guidebook on Riding the Trans-Siberian Railway

2006-09-07T03:51:00.000-07:00

So you've got your ticket and you're on the train. Get changed into your "train clothes". This is what you'll be wearing night and day until you get to your destination. To better blend in and be comfortable, consider purchasing the following:

1. One track suit (matching bottom and top is not necessary).

2. One pair of sandals, any variety will do as long as they are not thongs, you must be able to wear them with socks. If you are feeling especially daring then wear a pair of furry slippers (preferably in some neon shade).

3. Socks are one of the most important items. Be creative and definitely think style over substance.

4. Forget about bringing a rucksack, you're travelling by train not hiking. No self respecting Russian has one and this is the main item that'll make you stick out like the odd foreigner that you are. One medium (over filled) sports bag is key. A plastic bag is all you need for a day bag and all your food items while on the train.

5. Earplugs are absolutely essential since there is bound to be hours of snoring at unimaginable volumes and drunks attempting to sober up with more vodka after falling out of the top bunk.

Be especially nice to the train attendant(s) who work on each carriage. These are usually ladies with crazy color/shape hairdos and are late fashion bloomers. They can make your train journey pleasant or miserable since they wake you up and serve you coffee at the break of dawn before your arrival.

The restaurant car (if you're lucky enough to have one) often only stocks cucumbers and vodka so bring as much ramen as your stomach will handle since hot water is constantly available from the carriage samovar and it's free; a dozen boiled eggs; fresh tomatoes and cucumbers; loads of bread and one long sausage stinking of garlic. Bring plenty of drinking water.

While on the train, you will no doubt be forced to seriously compromise your hygiene including dental so be prepared to stay clean using creative methods or just stay dirty. There are no showers, only a small sink and a metal toilet and it's cleanliness depends on the fastidiousness of your attendant. Usually, the bathroom nearest the attendant's berth is the cleanest because that's the one she has to use. My advice is to get smelly and blend in with the locals but if you really need to get clean bring a bit of hose to attach to the tap to makeshift a shower.

When sharing a compartment, it is our recommendation to share lunch or snacks to your bunk-mates. The whole affair usually ends with a bottle of vodka and a hangover in the morning.

Since the railway is long and the view doesn’t change much, it is wise to bring some entertainment: music player, books, cards, puzzles (our newest obsession has become SU DOKO), and games.

Depending on your budget, 2nd class (4 beds with a door) and 3rd class (4 beds and 2 side beds without door - privacy is unheard of in this class), is fine for the independent traveler. For comfort and easy access to a table, buy lower bed bunks. Unless you are 5’5, you must get used to sleeping in the most unorthodox positions.

The train is a social place so don’t feel shy or inappropriate at starting conversation with a total stranger. Knowledge of the Russian language is not always necessary, in fact, the less you know the more friendly people are likely to be.

Kyzyl - Кызыл

2006-09-06T21:09:00.000-07:00

1st – 4th September

Kyzyl, capital of Tuva. WE MADE IT!!! Well, actually, not yet because before Kyzyl we had to take a shared taxi from Abakan, a truly breath taking 5 hour drive at break neck speed.
Beautiful rolling landscape, wooden villages, Siberian cowboys herding cattle…..then it rained. A lot. This guy got really wet.
Then we climbed up through the Ergaki Mountains and it snowed. At this point we wished we had at least a warm hat.
Once settled in Hotel Kyzyl, a dubious establishment (perhaps of ill repute?), we took to our beds for some well earned rest. Here’s the view from our hotel room once the clouds cleared. The building in the foreground is the National Drama Theatre, eagles perched here between hunting sessions.
On our first full day we went in search of throat-singing and stamps for postcards. Incredibly, the main post office here does not stock stamps and, believe me, Zhenia asked everybody working there and created more than a little fuss!

Rebuffed but not defeated we decided to see if we could fulfill our other quest. Our first stop was the theatre but the heavy wooden doors were firmly shut and certainly nobody was home. Our next option was the Cultural Centre, maybe we could stumble across Kongar, the famous Tuvan featured in Genghis Blues? Teaching a khöömii class? No. The caretaker answered “Nyet” to every one of Zhenia’s enquiries and the place looked abandoned.

At this point we were sorely disillusioned and took to wandering the streets with our ears vainly straining for any other worldly sounds that might be emanating from a Tuvan throat. What did we find? Another post office that sold stamps (only boring Russian ones we’re afraid) in very small denominations but beggars can’t be choosers.

So celebrating our minor victory we took a tour of Kyzyl’s other sights….here’s Zhenia standing by the Centre of Asia….
Here’s a close up of the mountains that surround the city…
A statue of a martyr commemorating the repression of the Tuvan people…
We’d arrived at probably the worst time, three weeks after the major festival, the kids are starting school, everybody’s busy preparing for winter, we realized that our chances of seeing some throat-singing were slim to none and that we’d just have to come back some other time.

We still had some jolly good fun…our last afternoon was spent on a peddle boat in the mosquito infested park.

Krasnoyarsk - Краснояарск

2006-09-06T21:03:00.000-07:00

31st August

We arrived here in the morning and spent the day wandering around before our evening train left for Abakan, on route to Kyzyl, Tuva.

Of course, like every other town, there’s Lenin on Lenin Street.
The joke here is that if Lenin’s holding out his arm, he’s pointing to the nearest bar and if he has his thumbs in his braces then there’s no bar in sight.

Up on the hill over looking the town is the Chasovnya Chapel that features on the 10 rouble note. With nothing but time to kill we took a stroll up the hill and made an interesting discovery. Marijuana. Siberia is truly the last place we expected to see this plant growing wild.
We were reluctant to show (yet another) soviet urban landscape with electricity pylons in the foreground so here’s a picture of us at the top instead.
Me and the Intercession Cathedral…. looking like a pimp without a sell.

Tomsk - Томск

2006-09-06T20:59:00.000-07:00

27th – 30th August

Known as the “Oxford of Siberia”, Tomsk was definitely a refreshing change from other Russian towns we’ve passed through. The streets were filled with rows of wooden houses featuring “wooden lace” decorating window frames. A lot of these were run down and derelict but were still quite beautiful.
Unfortunately, the Siberian winter was already creeping in and the weather got very cold and wet while we were here, forcing us to find refuge in bars. Here’s our only other picture taken here – Lenin Square.
Our highlight was bumping into two lads from Bristol (our first English speakers in weeks) at the post office and getting the beers in at the Sibirski Pub.

Omsk - Омск

2006-08-28T03:58:00.000-07:00

25th - 26th August

We arrived in Omsk at dawn and quickly found our way to our hotel, Hotel Omsk. Stanley Kubrick must have had soviet hotels in mind when he made The Shining. Stepping inside was like a strange time warp. Nothing had obviously been changed or upgraded or renewed for at least 40 years. It was beautiful. Complete with long desolate corridors, discolored wool upholstery and wallpaper print that makes you cry "nostalgia".

Omsk offers its tourists a ferry ride down the Irtysh River. "Come take the river air and see our beautiful city across the water." With nothing but time on a lovely breezy day we said, "Okay!" While not exactly scenic we did manage to have a jolly time.

Here's a river side view of our fantastic hotel.....

....and luxury riverside apartments....

Here are the cranes. The first thing that comes into view when arriving by train.

Next stop: Tomsk. The "Oxford of Siberia."

Yekaterinburg (a.k.a. Sverdlovsk) - Екатеринбург

2006-08-28T03:54:00.000-07:00

22nd - 24th August

We arrived at our first stop in Asia completely exhausted. If you're over 5'8, you can forget about getting any decent sleep on the 3rd class russian carriage (Rule Book on How to Ride the Trans-Siberian Railway is soon to follow-stay tuned!). And let's not fail to mention Knig, a burly fellow with purple slippers who chose to chew our ears off declaring that a new Ghengis Khan would emerge from China to devastate Russia and Europe within the next 20 years. He was sober.

This is the town where the Romanovs were murdered and although the original building was destroyed (on Yeltsin's orders), they have since built "The Church of the Blood" on the site.

Religion is back in a big way. New churches are everywhere (because Stalin blew most of them up) and the Romanovs are now all saints. Even Putin is kissing religious icons on public TV. Meanwhile, Russian soviet past still seems to be celebrated (Lenin's monument proudly stands in city centres and buildings and street names claim his name). It's all very confusing.

Yekaterinburg is a fairly ugly town; a concrete mess of old and new. And between the grand new monuments celebrating pre-soviet Tsarist achievements and the old decaying soviet ones, we're left to believe the whole thing is full of crap.

On the plus side, our hotel was pretty good and offered a sweeping sunset view of the Russian industry complex.

Zhenia found an old childhood favorite...pitushok lollipop made of maple syrup.

We discovered an enormous 720 kg crystal in the Ural Geological Museum.

And if you were in any doubt-yes. that's right, the Peruvians are here too.

Nizhny Novgorod - Нижний Новгород

2006-08-20T04:18:00.000-07:00

August 18th - 21st

Nizhny Novgorod, formally known as Gorky (during soviet times) after it's most famous writer, is located south east of Moscow on the banks of the Volga.

This town is also well known (within Zhenia's family circle) for being the home of the Bochova family of which Alla "the boss", had offered to give us a bed while we were in town.

From left to right, a very excited Zhenia, Alla, Sveta and Pasha.

Our first day was spent, in order, sleeping, sightseeing, drinking and eating. Here is a picture from inside the Kremlin's (yes, this town has one too) barricades. The pic above is the view from the Kremlin walls.

Here Zhenia wrestles for a beardy kiss above the banks of the Volga.

Alla, Zhenia and err, Zhenia (Sveta's flatmate) overlooking the......Volga!

Pasha, the handsome devil, carries home an enormous watermelon for dessert. Needless to say, we've eaten very well here.

Saturday afternoon was spent at the strangely named Central Switzerland Amusement Park. We strolled around the forest of Silver Birch, ate roasted chicken and had a hoot. Alla revealed some hidden skills with a rifle!

Moscow - Москва

2006-08-20T04:13:00.001-07:00

August 15th - 17th

We were both nervous wrecks on the train to Moscow from Kyiv, not many "westerners" come this way into Russia and we prepared for a rough 3am immigration/customs interview on the border. As usual, however, we had little to worry about and they only disappeared with our passports for ten minutes before returning them with a "Хорошо" (okay).

Thankfully, Sasha Metraphanoff met us from the train station and took us back to his place in a highrise inner-suburb. This was the view from our room.

Not the least excited to be in Moscow at this point; knackered from the train journey we slept for most of the day. Sasha later returned from work, fed us his superb Borshch and took us out on a short tour of the centre. Here's an evening shot of St. Basil's Cathedral.

Here are some pictures of me (for once) outside the Kremlin in the Red Square.

The next day was spent aquiring train tickets east - not an easy task by any means and inquiring how on earth we get our visa registered since we're staying at a private address and not a hotel. All tourists must register themselves within three days of arrival in every town/city they visit in Russia - hotels usually do this service for free. This turns out to be a royal pain in the arse and very difficult to do.....legally. To cut a long story short we resolved to cut our stay short and leave before the 3 day time limit ran out and booked tickets on the overnight train to Nizhny Novgorod on the next day.

Time was now quickly running out, so Sasha again very kindly took us on two more walking tours of Moscow.

Pictured here is a small section of the massive Cathedral of Christ the Saviour.

Sasha and I listen for the Nutcracker with the man himself, Tchaikovski.

Big thanks for Sasha for not only putting us up for two nights, being our personal tour guide and train ticket agent but also for cooking the best Borshch in Moscow.

The last look on Kiev through WC Window

2006-08-20T04:11:00.000-07:00

The New Look

2006-08-14T01:21:00.000-07:00

14th August

We have given ourselves a fashion overhaul in time for our arrival in Moscow tomorrow morning.

Here Zhenia wears a new cropped do with a sophisticated white T for an easy get-out-with-style look. Tom sports a farmers tan with a red neck shirt design, a 3 week vintage beard, topped off with his signiture faux-panama hat.

Cruising The Dnipro

2006-08-12T16:03:00.000-07:00

9th August

Volodya took a day off work to accompany us on our last excursion around Kyiv. A boat trip down the Dnipro river.

River view of the Pechersky Lavra (Cave Monastery).
Living it up mafia-style with cheap beer, ciggies and sunshine.
Sun worshippers on the river bank. This beach is packed on weekends with speedos for everyone.

Three grandads

2006-08-12T15:48:00.000-07:00

6th August

The elder Nagorny family decided to have a get-together. From left to right sits Tamara (my father's first cousin), Dedushka Andrey, Anton (my cousin and the youngest of the Nagorny clan), Dedushka Alyosha (my grandfather's youngest brother who travelled 300 km to see us) and Dedushka Vacily (my grandfather's younger brother), Z & T.

Here are the three brothers in their sunday best.

Dedushka Andrey downs a shot, this time for his own health.

Alyona’s Cabbage Pie Sensation

2006-07-31T01:29:00.000-07:00

For the filling, you will need:
1 kg. of white cabbage
2-3 onions
20 g. butter
salt and pepper
oil for frying

Cut the cabbage into medium strips and boil in salted water until the cabbage has lost its crunchiness and is tender. Lightly fry 2-3 onions. Add the cabbage, cover and fry the mixture on low heat for 10-15 minutes. Add 1 T. sugar, 20g. of butter and salt and pepper to taste. Taste the filling; it should definitely have a bite to it and should not be bland.

For the dough, you will need:
1 packet of dry yeast (15 g.)
2 T. warm milk
1½ T. sugar
½ t. salt

Mix well in a large bowl until yeast bubbles appear in the mixture. Add 5 eggs,
200 g. sour cream, and 2 ½ cups of flour. Mix well and begin adding single tablespoons of flour to the dough until the dough cannot absorb anymore flour and becomes fluffy and elastic. Cover the dough and place in a warm part of the room (preferably without a draft) and let stand for 1-2 hours. The dough should double in size.

Leave margarine out to soften at room temperature for an hour. Take 150 g. of margarine and divide it into separate portions. Sprinkle some flour on your workspace and pour entire dough onto it. With your fingers, spread the dough out and form a large rectangle. Take a portion of the margarine and spread thoroughly across the top of the dough. Take each side and wrap into itself like an envelope. Let stand for ½ hour. Follow the above steps again and let dough stand for ½ hour.

Preheat oven to 240 Degrees. Divide the dough into 2 unequal parts, the larger will serve as the foundation and the lesser part will serve to cover the pie. Spread the larger portion onto an oiled baking sheet and put the filling on top. Shred 2 hardboiled eggs and sprinkle on top of the filling. Shape the lesser portion on a floured workspace into a rectangle and cover the pie. Take 1 egg yolk and spread on top of the pie. When the pie has been put into the oven, reduce heat to 200 Degrees and bake for 40-60 minutes.

As dictated by Alyona, the master pie maker this side of the Atlantic Ocean, to Zhenia, her devoted student and #1 fan. “It is my wish for anyone who completes this recipe to get a tasty and beautiful pie. I invite you all to my house so that we can all enjoy it”.

Where it all began...

2006-07-31T01:28:00.000-07:00

25th July

At its heyday, the Skorinets village, where my Cossack great-great-grandfather settled his family in the late 18th century, was once a thriving and populated community. My grandfather could not in a million years pass the opportunity to show me where our family tree planted its roots. The photo below begins our tour on a rough dirt road to the village.

My great-great grandfather, Nazar, built this very house to accommodate his wife and 8 children. As we walked around the gate to take a closer look, a woman came out and asked us if we wanted to come in. We went inside the gate with smiles and kind words and were offered nothing less as my grandfather talked about the customs and celebrations of the villagers and what had changed in the village since his youth.

Dedushka Andrey stopped to say hello to everyone we passed as a sign of respect. His easy conversation with the villagers made me proud and much at ease since the journey without him would be impossible. I kept thinking about Alex from Toronto making a similar journey back to where his family came from and the similarities of our experiences.

My gramps and me sitting underneath a tree.

Other photographs of interest…

Chernigiv

2006-07-31T01:27:00.000-07:00

24th July

Being a historian buff and a nationalist in his own right, my grandfather, Dedushka Andrey, was especially proud to give us a tour of Chernigiv, not only revered in Slavic culture as an important town dating back to Kyivan Rus but also a starting point for my father’s family. Before the war, when my great-grandmother was imprisoned in the Siberian gulags, my great-grandfather Gregory would ride the short trip on his carriage from his village to Chernigiv to sell the produce he had grown in his garden. After the war, a large part of my family moved to Chernigiv to work and live there. My grandfather worked in the grey administration building across the square.
On the outskirts of town, my great-aunt Pasha lives on # 33 ½ Fedorovska Street and welcomed us for a hearty dinner and offered us all a bed for the night.
Great-aunt Pasha was born the same year as my grandfather and through the years they have become great friends. She has one furry tomcat that leaves very early and comes back late at night. As many as 4 neighborhood cats arrogantly roam in her garden and her house, giving Pasha a never-ending headache.
The next day we made plans to see a cluster of ancient churches that ornate the town as well as the famous Antonyi’s caves. Beforehand, a solid half an hour was spend at the market in the dry sausage section as Zhenia and Dedushka Andrey picked out their very favourites.

Antonyi’s caves were founded by the Greek Saint Antonyi in the 11th century after Orthodoxy was adopted by Kyivan Rus as the official religion. He and his followers dug a series of caves where they worshipped, studied and lived here in recluse.

Odesa

2006-07-31T01:26:00.001-07:00

14th July – 16th July

Masha and her husband Volodia (another one) invited us to Odesa for the weekend which was great because we were planning to make our own trip down but all the trains were booked. We spent a couple of day in a “sanatoria” right on the shore of the Black Sea.

The styles on the beach were entertaining, dominated by butt-floss worn by both men and women, especially the old wrinkly ladies and the fat hairy geezers.
The beach was especially lovely at the end of the day when the sand cooled down and pink and blue fingertips left their marks on the sky.
We ate great shishlick and Uzbek food by the shore and watched the weekend fireworks.

Volodia and Masha gave us a whistle stop tour of Odesa which featured walking down the Potemkin steps to “Baby Schwartzenegger”, the local joke that supposedly celebrates Soviet youth and strength (we think).

Odesa’s hidden charm lies in the quiet courtyards between facing apartment buildings with overgrown vines and whispering alleyways.
Alexander Pushkin’s memorial.
The famous Opera & Ballet Theatre designed in Habsburg baroque style.

Old Kiev with Grandad

2006-07-31T01:26:00.000-07:00

My grandfather had insisted on showing us Old Kyiv before we even arrived into Ukraine; we gladly accepted. Kyiv stretches 2,000 years back to the founding of the city by three Slavic brothers Ky (who gave the city its name), Shchek, and Khoriv and their sister Lybid.

We started our day at the Golden Gate, which was erected in 1037 by Yaroslav the Wise and served as the main entrance into the ancient city.

As we walked within the borders of the Golden Gate, my grandfather showed me where my father and his brothers lived and the courtyard they played in; the school my grandmother and her sister attended after the war and the streets my grandfather used to pass on his way to work.

The Kyiv-Pecherska Lavra, or senior monastery of the caves, is considered by pilgrims as the holiest ground in the country. Here my grandfather climbs the Great Bell that used to hang in the nearby Bell Tower to read and translate the ancient inscription for us.

The seven gold domes of the Orthodox Dormition Cathedral was erected in 1077 but was completely demolished by the retreating Soviet Army during WWII, which is why it looks so white and new. During our visit to the Monastery, we noticed a large crowd of people pacing around the Cathedral and found out that the Ukrainian Orthodox Church was awaiting the arrival of the right hand of St. John the Baptist from Jerusalem.

I ended our tour rather quickly when my grandfather yelled out that the anxiously awaiting Moscow patriarchs (who historically reigned over the Ukrainian Orthodox Church) were “former KGB members”. To say the least, it was a funny moment.

We went back to my grandfather’s apartment and celebrated with a bottle of his special home brew (it’s not actually martini) and some good home cooked food.

Meet the Folks...

2006-07-31T01:24:00.000-07:00

We have stayed in Kyiv amidst the company of some great people too long not give them an introduction.

The matriarch and culinary extraordinaire of the motherland, Alyona. This lady’s a card shark that would make Las Vegas tremble.
Volodia, a man deserving of much praise for his comprehensive and wordy explanations. He has the patience of five chess grandmasters put together and can melt any lady’s heart with his smile.
Masha, Alyona’s daughter and Zhenia’s older sister. She gives a new meaning to second hand finds with her fashion nose for less. This fashionista loves to dance to Ghengis Kahn’s greatest hits.
Alyosha, Masha’s son plays football almost as badly as Tom, however, he’s a successful Rollercoaster Tycoon (2) and is a dab hand at poker, jacking cars and solitaire. Nobody messes with Grandad, or as we say here, Dedushka. Andrey Gregorovich Nagorny not only has the best moustache both sides of the Dnipro River he can also silence any rowdy crowd with a mere raise of his eyebrow.

Zhenia comes home

2006-07-11T03:19:00.000-07:00

10th July

For all of you that know (or might not), Zhenia and her family emmigrated to the United States in 1989. This would be her first trip back in 17 years….

I had many fears coming to back to my old apartment building and the playground where my sister and I spent many afternoons giggling and amusing ourselves. It had been so many years since I walked down Zakrevskoya Ulitsa or had caught the tram that zipped down this street. I feared that my childhood, safe in the confines of my memory, sheltered me and also made me a bit naïve to all that might have changed since I left. But as I jumped off the bus, I began to remember everything.

Zhenia walking down Zakrevskoya Ulitsa midst the blooming lime-trees and horse chestnut.
The tram still works but will soon become obsolete and replaced by the tram-bus. It is as if the tram was waiting for my arrival!
The old brown soviet-type building is a food market that has been slightly changed on the inside. Sasha, do you remember how we took that baguette of bread without paying and mama made us go back and apologize?
Ice cream in a cup with Little Mermaid wrapper. What more can a girl ask for?

The road to my apartment building was paved with these great big cement blocks, too big for a 7 year old to have to tackle on her own. I used to hold my mothers hand and jump from block to block. It felt so good to hop from block to block by myself.
I grew up on the 8th floor, 8th window from the right in apartment 93. In the main lobby downstairs there are still two elevators (one big on the left and one small on the right) which rattle and clank whilst in mid-air.
The stadium can still be viewed from the balcony of the building.
“Zhenia’s coming home tour” would naturally end in this spot, my old playground. It isn’t much by the look of it but does hold many fond and innocent memories for me. I couldn’t hold back the tears.

Sasha, do you remember the jump rope we would tie around the cement columns and compete for the fanciest jumping combination?

Lviv to Kyiv

2006-07-11T03:18:00.001-07:00

8th July

We were absolutely fearless when we joined the queue to buy train tickets to Kyiv. Having survived and conquered the Morocco’s bus system and other difficult situations, we thought we were more than equipped to handle the 8 1/2 journey….

Our carriage resembled more of a dorm room with empty beer bottles strewn around the leftovers from a food fight (chicken of course). Our neighbors had obviously been drinking the night before and were now dozing very loudly in time to the train’s melodic sway.

This was literally the width of the “bed” we were given, the least said about it’s length the better. All the windows were locked in the 35ْC afternoon but we kept on smiling…

During the second half of the train journey, our happy neighbors woke up and decided to celebrate again. We were chatted up in Polish and/or Ukrainian half mumbled drunken stupor and were offered what can only be described as Ukrainian moonshine; homemade from plums (apparently), not that it tasted of anything except it’s 70% alcohol content.

Kyiv Day One

2006-07-11T03:18:00.000-07:00

9th July

Kyiv is a busy city and the morning wake-up calls were the scenes of life and noise on a Sunday morning. Zhenia’s family offered us a large room all to ourselves for as long as we wished to reside in it. Volodia proposed to take us on our first excursion in Kyiv. Summer mornings aren’t complete without a fresh cup of kvas, sold from huge tanks on street corners. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this incredibly popular soft drink; it can only be likened to home brewed beer that you’ve impatiently decided to drink before the fermenting process has taken place. However, it’s great deal tastier than it sounds.

First stop: 0,5 L of kvas makes the doctors go away…

Tom and Volodya stand in front of St. Sophia’s Cathedral, Kyiv’s oldest standing church. “Old” as in 10th century old when the cathedral was built to celebrate Prince Yaroslav’s victory in protecting Kyiv from the assaults of tribal raiders.

Statue of the Cossack Hetman Bohdan Khmelnytsky who was fatally betrayed after signing a military alliance against Poland that ultimately permitted Russia control of western Ukraine.

Cobbled Andriyivsky uzviz (Andrew’s descent), one of Kyiv’s most charming and beloved streets, winds up to St. Andrew’s Church. The street is called after Kyiv’s first Christian preacher, Andrivy, who is said to have climbed the hill here, affixed a cross to its summit and returned via this path.

Zhenia and Volodya begin to make the descent down to Podol where many Ukrainian craft makers, souvenir sellers and painters line the street and offer passerby’s a lovely and unchanged landscape of this area.

Podol. My mother had lived in this building on the 2nd floor, somewhere in the middle of the apartment complex, for many years along with my grandmother and great-grandmother. In those days, the lingerie store downstairs (with the blue header) used to be a book store. Go figure.

Lviv

2006-07-11T03:17:00.000-07:00

5th of July – 8th of July

Welcome to Ukraine! The land where cigarettes cost as little as $0.20, beer costs $0.40 and ice cream comes in wrappers with BMWs on the front. We arrived on an overnight bus to Lviv at the break of dawn, a trip that included a welcoming 3 hour border crossing. We arranged our accommodation with a family in a house since our only other realistic choice was to stay at the Banking Academy Hostel. No kidding!

With faded, ornate buildings and friendly, unjaded locals, it feels very much like Prague because everyone drinks beer like it’s soda while they walk between job interviews. It’s also similar because it’s beautiful but daunting because no-one speaks English.
One could never truly be in Ukraine if one has not cleaned and tasted sunflower seeds. Here, Zhenia buys a glassful from a sweet lady on the street.

The beer drinking spot of choice is the central avenue, Prospect Svobody, which boasts an enormous status of Taras Shevchenko (1814-1861), the revered national poet who embodied and stirred the national consciousness, while achieving literary respectability for a Ukrainian language then suppressed under tsarist Russian rule.
Here the locals gather to smoke, sing songs, chat up girls and play chess. All of course, with a bottle of beer in hand.
Later, we climbed the Zamkova Hora to see the High Castle. The 14th century ruined stone fort at the summit was Lviv’s birthplace and offers the best vantage point of the modern city.
A bit on the morbid side and not so much your typical tourist attraction is the Lychakivsky Cemetary, compared as the Père Lachaise of Eastern Europe. Unlike in Paris, no one is holding a vigil for Jim Morrison but it is a final resting place for many important Ukrainians and Poles alike.
Museum of Folk Architecture and Life was a day trip, or rather a hike, up to a somewhat isolated woodland area where we walked around and saw different styles of old farmsteads, windmills, churches and school built in Ukraine. Here, Zhenia stands in the gates of a chimneyless wooden house built in the 17th century in the Lviv region.
Another example of folk architecture with elaborate carvings and straw roof.
Zhenia stops to talk to some nuns eating lunch.

Krakow

2006-07-01T15:02:00.000-07:00

30th June - 4th July
Like Prague, Krakow is firmly set on the tourist trail so we stepped in time with the camera snapping hordes and the late-night kebab feasting. The Old Town square is large and houses an old and beautiful market. One can watch the world gawk and pace around the clock tower from which a trumpet plays and stops abruptly (a reinactment of an old scene involving a trumpeter that warned the town of an oncoming invasion and was shot with an arrow while playing).

Here's Zhenia in the courtyard of the Wawel Castle that overlooks the city.

We spent much of our time in the Old Jewish Quarter. Here's Z shopping for our luncheon.
We took a visit to Oskar Schindler's factory building where he saved 1100 jews from being deported to Auschwitz.....
Surprisingly, very few tourists make it out here. Not much of the original factory remains and the reconstruction of what once was his office has little more than a desk and a hat stand. However, there are some plans to complete the museum and to refurbish the factory into a modern art gallery.
Strolling around on our last day in Krakow, we suddenly stumbled on a dark little bar on the outskirt of the main square in (name of jewish section). Black and white portraits lined the discolored walls, while pre-war furniture and other antiquated accents made the entire place look trapped in time. Even the hard-cover books arranged to appear some-what accidentally placed around dark corners and cabinets felt like stepping into the lives of those old photographs on the wall.

Wroclaw

2006-06-29T16:03:00.000-07:00

26th June - 29th June

The train ride from Prague to Wroclaw (pronounced Vrots-wauf) was hot and muggy and we fell asleep in the sticky leather seats but oddly enough we took turns sleeping and managed to photograph each other without the other one knowing.

Poles are among other things proud, particularly of their cherries and strawberries. Fortunately our stay in Wroclaw coincided with the harvest. We managed to finish a kilogram of strawberries and half a kilogram of cherries on a lovely afternoon in the park with our new buddy from Toronto, Alex.

Though not as popular as it's eastern neighbour Krakow, Wroclaw has an kind of an honest character since it has not been gentrified to the same extent.

It still retains plenty of really fucking ugly soviet style buildings, however, a lot is being done to improve things here. It really shone in our eyes though, because the people were super friendly and the milk bar food is GOOD.

NB. Many thanks to Alex for guiding us through Milk Bar protocol with his expert Polish language skills.

Prague

2006-06-29T15:34:00.000-07:00

23rd June - 26th June
Probably one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Already swamped with tourists when we arrived, we were just two adding to the melee. Almost every inch of the main square has been appropriated for posh restaurants and bars. We decided to avoid the centre altogether and visited the outlaying parks in the residential areas between World Cup games and found the lesser known (and therefore less visited) Krizíkova fontána located behind the White Elephant Exhibition Hall. This thing is a feat of engineering with it's spouts choreographed to everything from Mozart to Shania Twain.

Of course the world cup played an important part of our brief Prague visit, where our days were organized around the all important matches. A lot of time was spent finding the most dodgy "sports bars", often utterly deserted, just to watch the game.

Saxony Switzerland

2006-06-24T01:59:00.000-07:00

21st June

As a birthday girl, I had a choice of what we were going to do on my glorious day. A day trip to Saxony Switzerland sounded nice so we took the afternoon train.

As we got off the train, the road led to an ancient forest and as we got deeper and deeper into the greeness the smell of moss and wet leaves was all around. Millennia have shaped the boulders and rocks into smooth shapes and we could see many trails of water and rain.

The hike through the forest didn't take long but when we approached Basei the view was unbelievable!

An old-fashioned ferry with an actual steam engine and a whistle took us back to Dresden down the Elbe river. The ride took three hours and was entirely filled with castles and mansions of the old times when Dresden was the financial and political capital of Germany. In 2004, UNESCO declared Dresden and the surrounding section of Elbe river valley to be a "World Heritage" site.

We arrived back in Dresden by 8 pm and Nazan (a wonderful woman from Turkey who was attending a conference in Dresden) organized a birthday party for me, full of hot and tasty Indian food, wine and even a chocolate cake with candles!! I was so surprised and flattered and even had the birthday song sung for me.

Dresden

2006-06-19T06:10:00.000-07:00

14th June - 23rd June

What can we say? We loved Dresden. After originaly planning to only stop here one night before heading onto Prague, desperate to avoid the world cup mayhem, we totaly got hooked to the place...

A nightview of Dresden.

The Church of our Lady, which was only rebuilt recently after the damages of World War II.

Tom calls this "The Boob Shot" because we can't remember the name of the building. So there it is!

We slept at Hostel Die Boofe, which literally means a natural shelter in Saxony Switzerland's climbing region where one can stay during a storm. Owned by the coolest and most eccentric of characters, Danilo, this hostel and all her staff and residents were heartwarming and welcoming. Seeing Carole was definitely the most anticipating moment of the morning because she's got a spunky attitude and makes the best cup of coffee this side of the Berlin wall.

Carole, Kyle from Northwestern University and Zhenia display their morning churpiness.

During our stay, Dresden had a 3-day music festival in Neustadt (translated as "New Town" but is actually the older side of modern-day Dresden) that began in 1990 as a demonstration against capitalism and luxury reconstruction of the area. Neustadt has been celebrating itself ever since. One street of the festival was set up for children and had a large merry-go-round and puppet theatre. While all the children were completely in awe of the hand-puppets in the box, one girl stood up and walked over to the theatre box. Zhenia captured the moment as she is yanking the poor puppet out.

During this time, we met Storm and Warren from New Orleans who were also staying at the hostel. For the next 4 days it was impossible to separate us.

While relaxing on the bank of the Elbe river, Zhenia started chatting with a German couple, Nina and Jorn, and before we could say "Prost!" or "Cheers!" they invited us to their apartment for dinner and football. The below picture was our first experiment with the timing setting on our camera. From top left: Jorn, Warren and Tom; from bottom left: Storm, Zhenia and Nina.

On the day that Germany was to play Ecuador, there wasn't a single bar in town that wasn't packed with people. We stumbled on "La Rue", a French and Jewish restaurant owned by the curious Moushka who handed us a free bottle of Cider and said "Say Hello to Brooklyn for me!" on our way out. Here, Warren and Tom are victorious with the new gift.

On the night of the 20th, while Tom watched the England vs. Sweden game at a local English pub, Zhenia took a Night Tour with Anna, the guide and Dresden's personality extraordinare, to experience the culture and history of Neustadt. When we arrived back at the hostel, there was a welcoming committee waiting for us to begin the party that was to last until 5 a.m.
Zhenia, Anna, Danilo and Jason begin the early part of Zhenia's birthday celebrations.

Our final thoughts on Dresden: YOU MUST GO AND EXPERIENCE DRESDEN AND STAY AT HOSTEL DIE BOOFE!!!

Barcelona

2006-06-16T07:55:00.000-07:00

11th June - 14th June

Barcelona, the fashion Neverland where fashions never die. You name it.......from the girl in Doc Martin's and a tie dye t-shirt to the fellas with MC Hammer pants.....it's all here. Punks, Skaters, Hippies, Rastas and the ubiquitous Goths are all represented and the mullets here would put any trailer park to shame. And lets not leave out the "Rat Tail" which is still going strong in these parts......

We're only sorry we didn't have the means to document the cultural time warp that has a hold on this city. Unfortunately, the below picture is the only one we have in Barcelona (courtesy of the photo shop guy who sold us our camera). Guess it sums it up pretty well...

To better see this wonderful city, we decided to book a scooter. What a ride and worth every penny! We saw all the highlights and lowlights of Barcelona and didn’t have to walk a single block. Unfortunately, we were unable to take a single picture of the curves and mosaic magic of Gaudi (thanks to the Sahara desert) but here are a few shots that we picked up off the internet. Yeah, I know it’s lame but you’ve got to see it for yourself if you’re a Gaudi virgin.

La Sangrada Familia

Park Guell

Casa Mila

Jarandilla de la Vera, Spain

2006-06-16T06:07:00.000-07:00

6\6\06 - 10\6\06

After tracking down my mum and dad in Madrid we crashed their holiday plans and invited ourselves to come with them to Jarandilla de la Vera in western Spain. We stayed in the local Parador (government run hotels in historic buildings around Spain), which was essentially a converted castle originally built for King Carlos V to spend the winter of 1556 before going on to the monastery at Yuste to wait to die.

Needless to say, we ate and drank very well and relaxed despite dad's shirt (and socks).

The highlight of our time here was the walk to Yuste, following the road taken by Carlos V. It was stinking hot but along the way we found several natural pools to swim in and cool down - this one was our favourite...

Many thanks to Mum and Dad for taking us, and for the pics for the log all taken by Mum.

Marrakesh

2006-06-02T07:04:00.000-07:00

1st June - 4th June

Marrakesh at night

On our last day in Marrakesh, we decide to sit and pass the hours in a favourite cafe, Chez Chegrouni located in the central square, Djeema al Fna. People pass to and fro the souks, bargaining with smiles and chatting with their hands. Leather goods, jewelry, silver and clothing lines the square. This is a paradise for the ultimate consumer!
In the center of the square, men sell fresh squeezed orange juice while women sit underneath umbrellas and paint henna in brown and black ink. It’s 5:30 p.m. and the mosque will once again call to her faithful listeners while the camera-snapping begins as the sun starts to set.

The delicious tajines at Chez Chegrouni had Zhenia cleaning her plate spotless.

Djeema al Fna at night

Morocco

has taught us to be more open, decisive in our stride while we walk the streets. As travellers we have seen many layers of this country and it has been interesting to watch people wherever we go. Greetings take many forms and tones, not just a simple hello or a hand shake: kissing each other’s hand, kissing each other’s cheek 2, 3, and sometimes 4 times and my favourite, putting one’s hand on your heart after a handshake for honesty and trust.

Morocco

isn’t a wealthy country by any means but there is a wealth in people’s lives, faces and especially their hospitality to complete strangers. I only hope that many of you who are reading our weblog to consider visiting this beautiful country for yourself.

The Road to Marrakesh

2006-06-02T06:48:00.000-07:00

31st May – 1st June

The twelve hour journey from the Sahara Desert to Marrakesh deserves more than this journal entry but books dedicating poetry and prose to its beauty and diversity. As the bus toddles up towards the High Atlas, reaching nearly 4,000 km, the road loops and turns and opens the curtain: The sand-colored mountainside changes to ocre, as if opening a wound created by the sun and the wind of the region. Rain songs and scars carved from the peaks to the skirts of the canyons. Ocre-colored villages and their mosques scatter within the bedrock looking out like many blinking eyes and ears; they breathe and sigh and watch for passerbys like us. Forests of fern and cedar span miles; veiny trees with scorched and exposed roots. Farmers on wheat fields collecting their golden harvest. Flowers of pink and purple blossom. Grass as tall as corn stalks, palm and olive trees and cactus hedges, with swollen fingers and rusty nails, border the road. A donkey, tied to a tree, chews on some lunch.

The Atlas crouches down and its rugged canyons level off to a grassy plane. Marrakesh appears in the blue horizon ahead.

The Moroccan Bus System Rule Book

2006-06-01T13:56:00.000-07:00

Since we have become common travelers here in Morocco, we wanted to compile a rule book for those interested in traveling by bus in this beautiful and vast country. (Note worth mentioning: we are not refering to CTM or the national bus lines but the various denominatory bus companies that run locally throughout Morocco.)

When arriving at the station there may be as many as 10 different companies covering different lines and areas of Morocco. If your lucky enough to find a destination timetable in english be sure to read it from right to left NOT the other way. However, the best thing to do is to ignore it completely, look for the guys taking money from passengers (never bother going to the counter) and tell him where you want to go. He'll tell you what time the bus comes (in french) and sell you a ticket.

While you wait for your bus to arrive into the main bus station, there are many beggars huddling around. When your bus arrives and you get into your seat (and just as the bus is setting off on its route), at least 3 beggars (as they take their respective turns) come on the bus and ask for change from all the passengers.

Outside of the main bus station, there is no specific etiquette for getting on or off the bus. Simply clap your hands twice for the next desired stop and the bus will ease to a steady speed of 20 km/hour and you will either be told to jump off or jump on.

If one does not have a companion in the next seat or a music headphones, there is always ample noise on the bus to provide entertainment: a jukebox blasting music at an anstounding frequency, a screaming sermon in Arabic observed by passengers in complete silence, men and women shouting to their neighbor friend who they haven’t seen for many years, casual loud conversations on the cell phone or unhappy toddlers kicking and screaming in their seats.

The bus will stop for 15 minutes every 5-50km. This stop will usually be in some obscure town in the middle of nowhere. Once you are spotted by a local you will be greeted and asked a variety of questions and then told that you have entered a beautiful town must stay and enjoy yourself. Just smile humbly (since you have heard this a million times in the most remote areas of Morocco) and say no thanks, you're in a hurry but will come back next year, inshAllah.

The temperature in the bus is mindblowing and an air-conditioned vehicle is unheard of. If the windows aren’t broken then you are lucky to get a cool breeze.

The local bus (our particular favorite) will stop at mere sight of a person waiting on the road, which usually lengthens your journey considerably.

People are very willing to share food with you and it is a custom to give a bit to your neighbor. We have figured out another benefit: in the end you have a friend that will look out for you (possibly in an altercation with a hussler who is trying to get you off the bus so he can rip you off and leave you penniless).

Women and children are always provided a seat when the bus is full and baggage never seems to fit into the overhead compartment and they charge you extra to store it in the trunk so you are usually forced to be squeezed in with everyone’s bags and suitcases.

When a bus passes a village or a small city, people on the streets wave to wish a safe journey for its passengers.

The Moroccan people will talk to anyone and everyone, even if there isn’t a common language between each other.

The bus always respects the 60 km/hour speed limit but the engine will never make it past 45 km/hour.

Picking one’s nose on the bus is necessary (in case there is a sand storm outside and the windows must be open in order to ventilate the incoming dust) and is often expected.

The buses NEVER arrive, leave or get you to your destination on the expected time.

Overtaking a slower car can often takes on the form of a game of chicken with an oncoming truck, which the bus driver always loses because the truck driver is fearless.

The bus will usually break down at least once and if one is lucky the bus driver will bring life back to the vehicle. The passengers in these cases are rarely in a bad mood or in a hurry and will usually laugh at the circumstance.

In conclusion, under no circumstance should you get angry or offended at any of the above. This will only expediate the situation and make you appear uncivil and ungrateful. One MUST, if one is to remain sane, laugh at the above intricacies and enjoy the ride.

Thé de Mente

2006-06-01T13:53:00.000-07:00

Moroccan tea (atay in Moroccan Arabic), sometimes referred to as “Berber whiskey”, is always deeply infused with nanna’ (mint), the fragrance of which is one of the essential elements of the Moroccan culinary experience. A ritualized ceremony has evolved around the offering and drinking of the tea—a ceremony which bears all the hallmarks of the Arabic tradition of hospitality.

The preparation of the brew involves four staples: Chinese green tea, fresh mint, boiling water and plenty of sugar. Traditionally it’s served in elegant metal Moroccan teapots and poured from an impressive height into small crystal glasses. The first glass from a new pot is generally poured back into the pot to assist brewing.

You will need:
1 Tbs. of Chinese green tea
A generous handful of fresh mint, more leaves than stem
25-30 g. of sugar or adjust to taste

Put all the ingredients into a teapot that has been rinsed with boiling water. Cover ingredients with boiling water and allow to brew 3-5 minutes. Stir once or twice only, then pour one glass of liquid into glass. Return this glassful to the pot. Now pour glasses of tea and garnish with fresh mint leaves, if required. Try to pour the tea into the glass from as high a point as possible as this will ‘aerate’ the tea and allow the delicious aroma to permeate the entire room.

The Sahara Desert: Part II

2006-06-01T13:50:00.000-07:00

27th May - 31th May
Kasbah Erg Chebbi

On our last night in the desert we treated ourselves to a fairly touristic but fantastic camel trek into Erg Chebbi to a small oasis a few kilometres in. The Erg (basically an area covered by sand dunes) is about 20km long and 8km wide, which is tiny compared to some of those in Algeria, and is surrounded by "black desert" which is essentially flat sandy terrain scattered with black volcanic stone.

The desert is covered with camel shit, which is a dry, nugget like veriety. I imagine if ever lost in the desert, one need only find the inevitable trail of shit to find your way back to civilization.

Zhenia's camel had a serious attitude and spat in her face. Like all camels in Morocco, this one was called Jimi Hendrix and was also the leader, presumably because of it's prolific production of brown nuggets making a trail for the others to follow.

Here's me on the highest dune.

Zhenia didn't climb to the top because she'd created a new olympic "sport" she called "turban waving".

After the camel trek we are offered mint tea and tajine for dinner in the Berber tent under the starry sky.

The Sahara Desert: Part I

2006-05-31T06:10:00.000-07:00

27th May - 31th May

The bus ride from Azrou to the Sahara desert was long, bumpy and hot, as we watched the canyons grow on either side and the dust settle behind us. And then, as if the dusty mountains could hear us, an oasis appeared from nowhere, stretching for miles down the Oeud Ziz.

Eight hours later (after the bus broke down twice), we drove into Rossani, which is the largest town situated near the desert.

We arrived ignorant of the bad news: our destination, Merzouga, had experienced a catastrophic amount of rainfall during the night and was consequently flooded. With no other choice we accepted an invitation from a young local, Hassan, to come to his kasbah (a citadel-type hotel common in the desert). As our taxi drove off to the kasbah, we sighed with relief at the thought of a shower and a bed. Unfortunately, our taxi could not make it in the mud and eventually died, 500m away from its final destination. We took up our bags and walked toward the lights of the kasbah. The below picture is the end result. Additional feet were provided by Koen, a Dutch guy, and Barbara and Daniel, a Swiss couple we met on our bus.

Ladies and gentlemen...The Sahara Desert.

Azrou

2006-05-24T12:44:00.000-07:00

May 22nd - 26th

So we decided to escape the ever welcoming clutches of Kareem in Meknes and head south to the small town of Azrou. Azrou is set in the hills of the Middle Atlas, surrounded by Cedar forests which are inhabited by Barbary Apes (which are actually monkeys). Luckily we arrived in time for the weekly souk which covers about 2sq. Km just out of town. We skillfully managed to dodge the carpet sellers and zhenia practiced her french/arabic while picking up some tasty melon and tomatoes.

Back at the hotel we made friends with Mohammad Kellal, a local ex-mountain guide now residing in California selling steak. He gave us loads of advice and recommended (at our request) his friend, Jaouad, to take us up into the mountains the next day.

Our 23km trek took us up to the 2000m summit for lunch and down through the Cedar forest hunting for monkeys. We also had fun turning rocks looking for scorpions with some success. Jaouad turned out to be a really great, funny mountain man and now good friend. He didn't ask for any money but we paid him well and gave him the novel zhenia had finished with so he could practice his english.

Over the next few days we did very little, Enjoying the relaxed, genuinely hassle free enviroment that only comes when everyone in town recognizes you. We ate THE BEST kefta we've ever tasted and even took tomatoes from the market to be grilled with the meat. We spent a lot of the time drinking mint tea while hustling tourists to go into the mountains with Jaouad. Had dinner at Mohammad's family home eating fabulous Cous Cous with a bunch of grumpy french monkey nerd film makers. And hung out with DJ roubla "Number 1 DJ in the world". We also went to the Hammam, the Moroccan version of turkish baths. We got a serious scrubbing down, i mean an almost naked (or completely naked in zhenia's case), complete no holds barred scrub down.

Unfortunately, the road was beckoning us south so we said farewell to our new friends and caught the bus towards the desert.

P.S. I grew this fabulous moustache but zhenia wouldn't come near my advances so it had to go.....

Volubilis

2006-05-23T12:10:00.000-07:00

21st May-Day Trip

The abandoned Roman city of Volubilis is a quiet day trip destination for most that cross Meknes. We hired a Grand Taxi (every one is an old beaten up merc) to Mouley Idriss and then another one onto Volubilis. They cram 6 passengers into these things and lock the windows shut because "the wind is bad for your health." So the thing becomes one big rolling sweat box but you make friends fast despite the language barrier.

The 2,000 year old city was made a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1998 and retains many artifacts of a once prosperous culture.

We hired a guide between five people and had a good laugh when he blurted out english phrases like "shake a leg", etc. Here's Zhenia "Berber Lady" Nagorny with our guide.

Meknès

2006-05-23T11:30:00.000-07:00

19th May - 22nd May

We arrived for the ferry that would take us to Tangier at 9 a.m. and the ride across the shore into Morocco couldn't be more beautiful with the crisp morning air and the rough waters of the Mediterranean Sea. We skipped Tangier entirely and took a train to Meknes, considered Morocco's fifth largest city, meeting Peter of Seattle en route. After taking a brief nap, we had a great meal at the family-run Restaurant Oumnia. Tom had the traditional tajine and I had the cous cous with beef. Peter took the below pic of us...

Feeling a bit unprepared and lost, we decided to hire a guide to provide us a local introduction. Akbal took us to the imperial city, the mouseleum and the mosque of Mouley Ismael, a monarch who ruled from 1672 to 1727 and whose legacy is the foundation of modern Morocco.

Inside the moseleum.

These water vendors can be found around the imperial city and many squares across Morocco. They carry a goatskin pouch and golden cups. The water is considered clean to drink but tastes a little leatherish.

The souqs (or markets) inside the medina have everything one can imagine from berber rugs, the latest fashionable and traditional clothes, heaps of spices and minerals, pulse of every variety, freshly slaughtered beef and lamb, etc. and the price is never clear. The object is to haggle, haggle, haggle.

Men and women are often separated in public places and you often find men holding hands with other men as women do as well. On our second night in Meknes, we (with Peter) were invited to the house next door to celebrate the birth of Kareem's (our host for the night) first son. Zhenia was quickly scheewed to the women's room, where she ended up giggling and dancing the entire night while Tom and Peter were honored with snuff (which made them cry and nearly throw up) and very strong hashish followed by wine and awkward staring-at-the-wall-moments while stoned. We finally managed to make our excuses and go to bed at 1 a.m., well fed from mutton stew. Here, Peter and Tom cling to Faruk, who is one of the King's personal guard.

Tarifa to Morocco

2006-05-18T03:46:00.000-07:00

15th May - 19th May

It takes us 13 hours to get from Lagoa to Tarifa, a coastal town with ferries to Morocco. After two bus rides and a 3 hour stop at Huelva Bus Station we arrived at night, hungry and grumpy. After finding a cheap room, we took a short walk into the old part of town and found a great tapas restaurant called Au Carrio where all the walls are covered in newspaper clippings, magazine articles, and photographs of famous toreros and their bullfights.

Decided to save a bit of money and to finally use our tent and sleeping bags for a couple of nights. Caught a bus (nearly had to haggle the busdriver to stop at our destination which was 10 km away) and realized pretty fast that we were as stuck as stuck can be, not to mention that there no restaurants in sight and the tiny market has nothing and charges 4 times the price.

Our anniversary, which was May 17th and fell on the camping fiasco, was undeniably pathetic: cheap wine, white bread with cocktail sausages (that came through the other end this morning) and a can of corn. Hey but we used the tent and saved like 20 euros or something stupid like that.

The good part was that the beach was completely empty so we took advantage....here's Tom admiring the scenery....

On day 3 at 9 a.m. we said "TO HELL with THIS", packed up our bags and left. Had to hitchhike for a ride back to town. Tonight we're gonna paint the town red and tomorrow we set off for Morocco for what we hope to be at least a 2 week excursion down the Atlantic Coast towns (Tangiers, Rabat, Fes, Casablanca, Marrakesh and Essaouira).

Lagoa, Portugal

2006-05-12T01:53:00.000-07:00

9th May - 15th May

Portugal didn’t seem much of a sight when we arrived to the southern coast town of Lagoa at 8:30 p.m. on Monday night. Sally, Tom’s aunt, and John, her hot lover, picked us up from the bus station and took us to a hotspot of a restaurant where we enjoyed a local favorite of steamed clams with pork cooked in a catapuna pot. Sally and John live in a villa, Casa Laranja, situated on a hillside surrounded by olive, lemon and orange trees. A nightingale made an appearance every night and in the afternoon we took a dip in the pond (not a swimming pool but an actual pond) to cool off from the heat.
The villa is a paradise and we did not want to outstay our welcome - so to pay for our lodging (since Sally refuses to take our money), We painted the front of their car port and fixed John's bicycle (Zhenia did most of the painting). Sally and John are great hosts, so are their 6 dogs, 3 cats, 2 ducks, 2 hens and the budgie.

The coast is breathtaking, especially when a cool wind blows past you and the smell of the sea is all around.

The sea hasn’t had time to warm up so the water was freezing. That didn’t stop us from running in head first.

One of the highlights was the rising of the full moon up the mountain stairs. The three white scratches in the picture are the highway lights.

Granada...

2006-05-07T09:38:00.000-07:00

5th May - 8th May

Granada felt a bit cooler (temperature-wise) than its eastern partner, Sevilla, but as soon as we unloaded our bags into our new home and headed out to see the city, the mother of all rainbow appeared across the sky.

Alexis, a friend from New York, who is currently living and loving Granada, took us on a tour from sightseeing to tapas. First stop: Plaza Mirador del San Nicholas, a lookout point that extends to the periphery of the Sierra Nevada and provides a magical view of The Alhambra.

History note: The Moors ruled Spain for 800 years, leaving behind a culture that still stands out in these modern bohemian times. The Alhambra was first constructed as a fortress city and later, with the expulsion of the Moors, became a royal palace for the Spanish monarchy. Visited daily by 6000 visitors, it stands high and golden brown and entertains the most vivid sunsets.

Due to the large number of visitors, the tickets to see the Alhambra were hard to come by. The committed begin to queue at 6 a.m., but we left it to luck and managed to scout two tickets. Tom is hiding in one of many gardens that surround the palace.

Zhenia smiles in a row of lush roses in the garden.

On a bright afternoon, we took a stroll through Sacromonte, situated in the north of the city. Known as the central settlement of the gypsies that arrived about 600 years ago in Granada, they settled in the caves of the mountain and as you walk on the hillside, you can actually see the caverns inside the rock. The mixture of Arabic influence combined with the particular lifestyle and temperament of the gypsies is said to have created Flamenco.

Sevilla

2006-05-03T05:21:00.000-07:00

Before arriving to sunny and luscious Sevilla on Sunday morning, Tom and I decided that we would have an an all-nighter (for old times sake) with Rick. What followed was a long 4 a.m. bus journey to the airport, sitting in front of a VERY loud and chatty Pole (Tom and I had attempted to shut him up by giving him a bit of NYC sassy attitude, quickly realizing that our efforts were futile. So we gave up and went back to sleep). The airport was an easy breeze, though we were still on about 15 minutes of sleep and then a turbulent, stiff neck Ryanair flight into Sevilla. Just the sight of the sun (after a rather cloudy and dreary 17 days in England), straightened us out and put a big ol' smile on our faces.

There is nothing like sun shining all day on tiny cobblestone alleyways, terraces with overhanging greenery, warm-hearted and open-armed Spaniards who prefer to eat all day and drink all night.

Tom bought a hat and I cut my hair. At the family-owned pension that I stayed in 5 years ago, some family members have welcomed us into their lives again.

Instead of buying a guide, we decided to invest in a Spanish phrasebook/dictionary. Tom is getting more and more confident in conversation as the days go by (as he didn't speak a lick of Spanish), while my Spanish is slowly waking up. We are having a blast confusing the locals!

The Carboneria is a family owned garden and what now has become a hot tourist spot for the young (I believe it has recently been added to the guides), where locals and amateurs come to perform flamenco.

Hmmm....Sevilla. There is nothing like a fully lit square where everyone mingles around the food, the wine, the romance and the largest turd you´ve ever seen...

London...

2006-05-03T05:09:00.000-07:00

Once in London, the lovely english countryside turned into apartment districts with supermarkets and off-licenses, where alcohol is sold to just about anyone. The sun disappeared for most of our stay but there was no time to waste as Tom and I made plans to see old friends for lunches and dinners and more lunches and more dinners. Here are a few moments....

After the Silver Jews gig, Rick wanted to show off some of his newly learnt skills.

Dinner with Jonjo, Daryoush (who has since got new teeth) and Berry in Islington.

On Saturday, we went to visit Matt White and the new addition to his empire; Mr. George Cosmo White.

What seemed like a freak accident, Tom and I walked right by the Finsbury Town Hall where we were married nearly 4 years ago. Unfortunately, the Town Hall is currently undergoing serious construction and will soon probably become apartments for rent!!!

Ladies and Gentlemen: I introduce to you.....Morris Minor.

2006-04-28T10:15:00.000-07:00

The Lyons family has a classic (practically mint condition) 1968 Morris Minor Traveler. After Tom got Morris all warmed up, we went for a drive around the coast and visited Robin Hood Bay, where Captain Thomas Cook, the great sea voyager, grew up.

For a serious sweet tooth: Raspberry Trifle

2006-04-18T11:05:00.000-07:00

Anyone who has ever been over ours for dinner could only expect one thing for dessert.

My raspberry trifle (or rather my mother-in-law's) has always been a great success (knock knock knock on wood). The Yorkshire countryside has inspired me to finally share it with everyone.

You will need:
sponge or pound cake (one Entenmann's pound cake is plenty);
4 fl oz (120 ml) Madeira or sherry;
12 oz (350 g) fresh raspberries (frozen work just as well);
500 ml custard (make sure that it's not too runny); and
6 oz double or heavy cream

Cut and arrange the cake to cover all the sides of the bowl. Make a few stabs in the sponges and sprinkle the Madeira or sherry carefully and evenly over them, then leave it all aside for half an hour so it can soak in.

Sprinkle all the raspberries over the top of the trifle sponges. Add the custard, a little at a time, to cover all the raspberries. Wisk the double cream and scoop it over the raspberries. Cover with plastic wrap and leave in the fridge for a couple of hours. Remember: the more time you give the trifle to sit in the fridge the more it will soak all that custard goodness. This recipe serves for 6, unless I'm in the near vacinity.

Back in Leeds

2006-04-15T09:52:00.000-07:00

4/14/06 - Good Friday
First day in Leeds
We got the first sunny day in Leeds for weeks. I went to market with Dad, it's the largest covered market in Europe and full of nothing but class, including it's very own tripe shop....mmmm, tasty.

Zhenia skipped the sightseeing and helped Ma Lyons in the garden.

4/15/06
Leeds Utd 1 Reading 1
We went to the footy with Em, Rick & Dad. I ate chips with curry sauce and a pie, much to Zhenia's disgust. 20,000 Leeds fans sang.....

Who the fuck,
Who the fuck,
Who the fucking fuck are you?
Who the fucking fuck are you?

.....to the Reading fans. High brow stuff.

bowling and goodbyes at the Melody Lanes, Brooklyn

2006-04-10T13:49:00.000-07:00

Back in Brooklyn, folks showed up for some bowling action and a chance to bid us farewell. Our crew definitely set the standard for a BLOODY GOOD TIME!! Team Mustard made Jesus bite his tongue while the Montrose man, Layla (who coincidently gave the Hasids a run for their money) and Phil Richter broke some bowling pins with their spins. The fags and dykes on the fourth lane had the worst score but they SURE did look good. The afterparty continued at the Great Lakes, the best damn bar in town. Here are the highlights....

Hungry for more? Just visit our kodak gallery, then click on "View Photos without signing in" and send us a happy message in our guestbook.

Again, thanks to everyone for such a great night.

lebanese lentil soup recipe

2006-02-20T16:55:00.000-08:00

Martin Pengelly of Balham came to visit us this week and chef tom showed off his culinary insinct with this soup. we were first impressed and then sadly disappointed when there was none left. this recipe serves 6, or in our case 3.

you will need:

1 3/4 cups lentils

8 cups water or chicken stock

1 tablespoon salt, or to taste

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

2 medium red onions, finely chopped

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1/4 cup chopped cilantro/coriander or parsley

lemon wedges

combine lentils, water and salt in a 5 to 6 quart pot. bring to a boil. Then lower heat, cover and simmer gently about 20 minutes while you cook the onions.

heat olive oil in a large frying pan over medium-high heat. add onions and cook, stirring often, until they turn a very dark brown color, about 15-20 minutes. stir constantly during last 5 to 10 minutes of cooking to prevent burning. (it may be necessary to reduce heat to medium.)

when onions are well browned, add 1 cup simmering lentil water to the pan with the onions. stand back; the water will sizzle and steam. continue cooking, stirring every now and then, until the water has almost totally evaporated, about 3-5 minutes.

scrape onion mixture into the pot with the lentils. stir in the pepper. cover and simmer 10 more minutes. remove soup from heat, cool and refrigerate 4 to 6 hours, then reheat before serving. (it needs to stand in order to thicken. The soup can be made a day or two ahead, refrigerated and reheated.)

to serve, reheat soup and ladle into bowls. stir 1/2 tablespoon lemon juice into each bowl and finish each with a sprinkle of cilantro or parsley. (Or stir all of lemon juice and herbs into pot of soup.) serve lemon wedges alongside.

Confessions of the Work shy

2006-02-08T17:16:00.000-08:00

Zhenia has now been free of work for a full three days. She is fast becoming a lady who lunches, since she's managed to attend two only this afternoon. One with Dora & Miss Miller and the other with me & Phil. I, on the other hand, am still employed. However, i had nothing to do at work, so, before lunch i pottered around looking vaguely busy checking email with earnest, and after I played video games and aped around in Phil's brand new $80 Gorilla suit. It's a primate's life.

spiced pilau rice recipe

2006-02-07T19:02:00.000-08:00

since i've mastered the pilau rice, i want to share its simplicity and beauty with the world. lovely to serve with curries and spiced dishes.

10 fl oz (275 ml) long-grain white rice (basmati preferred), level in a glass measuring jug
20 fl oz (570 ml) boiling water, level in a glass measuring jug
1 T. groundnut/peanut oil
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 inch whole cinnamon stick
3/4 t. cumin seeds, crushed
2 cardamom pods, crushed with a pestle and mortar
1 dessertspoon ground turmeric
1 bay leaf
salt

heat the oil in a thick based frying pan and soften the onion in it for about 3 min. then stir in the spices, bay leaf and salt and allow a min. or 2 while the heat draws out their fragrance. next stir in the measured rice, and when it is well coated with oil and spices, pour in the boiling water. stir once, put on a tight fitting lid, and simmer gently for 15 min. or until the rice is tender. tip into a serving dish, cover with a tea towel for 5 min., then fluff with a skewer and remove cinnamon and cardamon pods before serving.

credit for the above recipe should go to delia smith, the all knowing culinary genius of norwich.

hungover and cooking for four

2006-01-21T15:55:00.000-08:00

Tom has been napping for an hour and a half and I've been cleaning and cooking but guess who'll get the credit for such great culinary delights? My sister is coming over with her boy, James, who I feel in full authority to break into the Nagorny family. Tonight's menu is as follows:

Appetizers:
Cheese platter
Olives and girkens
Artichokes with breadcrumbs, almonds and herbs

Entree:
Moroccan style baked cod
Zhenia's cous cous salad sensation
Fennel with parmesean and lemon

Shit load of wine to drink and the all-famous trifle for dessert. What can I say? Life is good.

still in brooklyn

2006-01-16T17:19:00.000-08:00

So we're still on the Slope. Zhenia's cooking Aloo Gobi and i'm scratching my balls. There's snow outside and it's freezing but my new trainers can take it, no worries. We both realize that it should actually read "Odysseus and I turn East" but we don't give a fuck, shit head.