Travelogue: Flexibility and Tbilisi Georgia

I can't believe this trip was 6 months ago and I'm still writing about it.  Just two more stops and the travelogue will be complete and ready for new adventures.

The best travel advice I can give is BE FLEXIBLE.  You don't know when your minibus is going to break down.  Maybe that super reliable airline you booked on goes under the morning of your trip.  Or maybe you fall in love with some little village in Argentina and decide to stay for an extra week.  There are tons and tons of things that can either go wrong or right that necessitate sudden change in itinerary.  Our time in Georgia was a lesson in flexibility.

We had planned our departure from Sheki around the published bus schedule.  Of course the bus decided not to go to Tbilisi that day.  So we adjusted.  We took a taxi to the main bus station with hopes of taking another bus to a town closer to the Azeri/Georgian border.  But the minibus to Qax only had two people in it and according to the bus schedule, we had to be there by 10:30AM.  Our next best option was a taxi.  We've had bad taxi experiences in the past.  So we worked out a deal with the driver to take us to the otovagzal in Qax before we got in the car.  We even had him write it down so we'd have something more solid when we arrived and paid him (again, no English).  Great plan, we were covered.  You can imagine our fury when he pulled over 15 clicks outside of Qax and demanded more money to take us all the way into town.  I pulled out the sheet of paper we had written the total amount on.  He said that was to the city limit not the actual city.  Sometimes a raised voice is a good thing. . . we ended up in town and paid him about $2 more than the amount on the sheet opposed to the $15 more he was demanding.  But the bus to Tbilisi was cancelled here too.  I'm pretty sure we were there on bus strike day.  Next best option, another taxi.  Lesson learned from the first experience, we meticulously agreed to a price and destination.  This guy did us one better and took us all the way to the border without demanding an extra cent and restored our hope in humanity.

The Azerbaijan/Georgia border was a breeze.  I'm pretty sure they looked at our passports, but I can't quite remember.  It was nice to not need a visa.  And with that we traded the Inshallah of Azerbaijan for the Icons of Georgia.  We repeated the taxi negotiation process.  For fear of sounded repetitious I'll just go ahead and say my next piece of travel advice "Taxis are a rip off all over the world."  Sure they may be cheaper in most of the world than in the US, but there is always a more economical option.  And I'll add to that a personal comment, I love metered taxis.  Yes they're expensive, but at least you know what's coming.  The one good thing about taxis is they're fast.  We arrived in Tbilisi in about half the time it would have taken by bus.

If I had to pick a single word to describe Tbilisi, it would be lovely.  Everything about the city is quite wonderful.  It's easy to walk, there's lots to see, it feels safe, it has great cafes, it has all these little bakeries selling fresh bread, and it has a really fascinating wine culture (Georgia was the birthplace of wine).  We had planned to stay in Tbilisi for two nights before heading down to Yerevan Armenia.  Back to the flexibility theme, we were unexpectedly grounded due to some unforeseen circumstances and we loved having an extra 5 days to explore the city.  It was one of those times when flexibility paid off.  We'll catch Yerevan next time around.  For now, we bask in the loveliness of Tbilisi.

Travelogue: Hospitality Hostages, Part 2

Find Part 1 HERE

Part 2: So, here we stand, The Hawk and I, thumbs in the air, large backpacks at our side, and a group of Azeri men and women staring at us from across the road.  Another mashtruka with a sign for Sheki pulls up.  It's packed full, but three or four men manage to pile into it.  It takes two men shoving the door from the outside to close it.  I breathe a little sigh of relief.  I have little no experience with hitchhiking, but I assumed it would take awhile.  At 12:04, the second car that passed us screeched to a halt.  The Hawk ran up with his list of town names.  After a brief back and forth we found out they were heading to Ishmalia, a town two towns before Sheki.  Equipped with our one word of Azeri "Otovagzal" (bus station), we decided to go for it.  We also convinced the lady who had been sitting next to us in the van to get in the car with us . . . I still wonder if she regrets that moment.

We threw our bags in the trunk and got into the backseat of the car (a really nice Acura Sedan, we were fully prepared for a beater).  In the front sat two men that didn't speak a WORD of English, they didn't even know the word "Hello."  But as Joey and I have traveled the world, we've realized that communication is not limited by common language.  The driver (Rahim) was from Afghanistan, but he hasn't been back in years.  He didn't speak any Dari and the word of the day became “Khube” or “Good.”  His passenger (Khalid) was Iranian, but he only spoke Azeri.  And Khatera, our friend in the back, lived in Sheki and was in Baku on business (we later figured out that she was trying to get her passport so she could visit her children who live in Moscow).  The two guys seemed to be having a great time speeding along the highway, smoking pack after pack of cigarettes, and listening to loud Turkish and Iranian music that they sung with incredible passion.  They pulled out a CD that said "English" on it.  There were two songs on the CD, "This Is Why I'm Hot" by Mims and "Go Girl" by Pitbull.  After the rest of the trip on repeat, we know these songs very, very well.  Side note: We've been continually surprised at how popular Pitbull and Lil Jon are all over the world.  Maybe it's because all Lil Jon says in his songs is "Yeah" and "Ok." Also, Joey would argue that we're not surprised, of course they are popular around the world, because they're awesome.

From Hospitality Hostages

After about one hour of driving we pulled over at a small chaikhana (tea house).  Khalid and Rahim motioned us over to a cage at the side of the road that had a live bear in it.  We later watched some kids through a liter of Mirinda in the cage that the bear drank.  After our tea stop, we pulled over again a natural spring.  This is when we realized that we weren't just being driven from Point A to Point B; we were hospitality hostages.

When we arrived in Ishmalyia, we met up with a large Azeri guy driving a Lexus SUV.  We ate a three-hour lunch at an incredible garden restaurant.  The Azeri, Tafiq, asked Joey a question that needs no translation, "Vodka?"  In the back of my head, I vaguely remember my 20th Century Russia professor saying some sort of warning about drinking Vodka with Russians.  I think I can safely say that the warning applies to all Russians and former Soviet countries.  Khalid and Rahim weren't drinking because they're Muslim, I don’t do Vodka (bad memories), Khatera seemed pretty against it too.  So, The Hawk and Tafiq proceeded to toss back shot after shot of toasts as Tafiq motioned out different toasts and we guessed their meaning, "Women?"  "WOMEN!!!" "Azerbaijan?" "AZERBAIJAN!!!" "Family?" "FAMILY!!!" . . . you get the point.  Luckily Khalid stepped in before they ran out of things to toast and used the last half of the bottle to wash his hands.  We also figured out sometime that this was a real estate deal.  This was confirmed when our next stop was viewing the land in question.

From Hospitality Hostages

From Hospitality Hostages

And then they dropped us off at the bus station and we proceeding on to Sheki, right?  Nope.  Our next stop was Tafiq's house where we met his wife and kids, drank more tea, and looked at some amazing pictures full of non-smiling wedding parties and Russian officials.  We listened to Tafiq's daughter count to 10 in English and watched his son do karate.

From Hospitality Hostages

As we sped a long the road from Tafiq’s, we realized that we were not heading back to Ishmalyia.  At this point we were resigned to our fate as hostages, maybe a little bit of Stockholm Syndrome had set in.  We smiled and nodded as they continued to make stops.  We just sat back and sang along to the two songs playing over and over and over.  And two hours later we rolled into Sheki.  Khatera motioned for them to pull over, gave us hugs and kisses, and was gone (and relieved).  When we tell this story, people always ask about her about midway through and are shocked to find out that she stayed along the entire way.     

But our story doesn't end here.  After Khatera was dropped off, Khalid and Rahim drove us around to the sites of Sheki, all of which were closed as it was now 8:00 PM.  They banged on the door at an old palace and convinced the guard to let us have a quick look.  When they finally took us to our hotel, we had our first conversation with an English translator.  They wanted to view our room to make sure it was suitable.  They refused any form of payment.  They wouldn't let us buy them dinner.  They said that they were going to head back to Baku.  And they said that they might come back to visit in 3 or 4 hours (or 1:00 AM).  We said our goodbyes and that was it.  After they left, all we could do was stare at each other with mouths agape asking each other over and over, "Did that really just happen?"  

From Hospitality Hostages

And this is what travel is all about.  Unplanned detours, head aching borders, perfect cafes in towns most people have never heard of (I had the BEST cappuccino of my life in Sheki), and friendly hostage situations.  Sure, we didn’t get to explore Sheki.  Sure, the trip took twice as long as it should have.  But the experience of spending time in the company of real Azeri’s, not tour guides, not taxi drivers, but real Azeri’s who were proud and honored to show us the places and people they love definitely goes down in my top life experiences.  I think next time we take a mini bus, we’ll do a once over to make sure there’s a chance it might kick the bucket 30 miles outside of town.   

Travelogue: Hospitality Hostages, Part 1

We are definitely Lonely Planet travelers.  Not only do these handy books fit our travel budget, they now have downloaded-able chapters that fit our three trunks a piece lifestyle.  So, when the Azerbaijan chapter of the Lonely Planet Caucasus guide recommended Sheki, Azerbaijan as a "must see," we decided we must see it!

Our trip to Sheki began better than planned.  Our taxi driver not only drove us to the airport, he escorted us into the MASSIVE bus station to help us find our bus.  We would have been hopelessly lost in a sea of cyrillic signs and long, empty corridors if it hadn't been for his help, and he didn't even overcharge us.  Without any English, we were able to gather from him that he suggested a mashtruka over a bus.  A mashtruka is a big van crammed full of people.  They are usually faster than buses, however a bus is on a schedule and a mashtruka leaves when full.  We were told to get in the back of the van, the most undesirable seats.  I mimed car sickness to the driver and he let us move up.

At about 9:30 we were on the road, bumping along the very unpaved way outside of Baku.  According to our LP guide, a mashtruka trip to Sheki should take around 7 hours.  At this rate we'd be there by 4:30.  Our first little hiccup was around 10:00 when the van pulled over and one of the three guys in front hopped out and started pouring water on the engine.  At 10:30 the van was pointing back towards Baku and was no longer moving.  Oh, and Azerbaijan has a striking resemblance to Eastern Washington or Western Texas or, well, Kabul as soon as you get out of Baku.

From Hospitality Hostages

So here we are in the middle of the desert, no one speaks a lick of English, we don't speak a lick of Azeri, and we have no idea what Plan B would be.  After about an hour of looking at a bunch of men staring at a very overheated engine, Joey and I made a pact that if nothing had happened by 12:00 we would cross the street and stick our thumbs in the air.  The Hawk has been lobbying for an IPhone since the things came out.  This moment is his strongest argument to date: In order to look at our PDF pages from Lonely Planet to see what towns were in route to Sheki, he had to pull our MacBook Pro out of our luggage, wait for it to turn on and load, and write the names of the towns on his hand.  Yes, I get it, an IPhone fits in the palm of your hand negating the need to copy down names of cities extracted from your laptop in the middle of nowhere in Azerbaijan.  It might have been useful to see what LP said about hitchhiking in Azerbaijan too, because after an hour and half of this:

From Hospitality Hostages

We crossed the street and stuck our thumbs up in the air.

Stay tuned for Part 2.

Flashback: The Caucuses

It seems like ages ago, but earlier this summer we went on vacation to the Caucuses.  You may be thinking, "The where?"  The Caucuses, this little area of land sandwiched between Russia, Iran, Turkey, and Central Asia.  You may have heard of Georgia recently in the news, Russian occupation, civil (and not so civil) protests, etc..  Or you may have heard of Azerbaijan, oil boom, new money, etc.  But let's be honest, most of us haven't heard of these little countries.  Here's a map for reference:


View Larger Map


After months and months of CNN International commercials for Azerbaijan, we just couldn't take it anymore!  So, off we went.  Our initial plan was to go from Azerbaijan to Georgia to Armenia to the Black Sea Coast of Turkey to Istanbul.  Unforeseen circumstances caused us to take out Armenia and the Black Sea Coast and spend more time in Tbilisi, Georgia and Istanbul, Turkey.  We'll get there next time.  And there will definitely be a next time.  These countries were amazing!  Beautiful scenery, unique cultures and languages, incredible foods, incredibly old history . . . what's not to love!

So, along with my Picture of the Week-ish and Election Updates, I will also be featuring some flashback travelogues of our fantastic adventure.  Stay tuned and keep reading!

The Blue Mosque

There are not many tourists in Afghanistan.  When I emailed someone that we were going sightseeing they responded, "Can you do that in Afghanistan?"  Apparently the answer is yes because on our first full day we had a chance to fly up to Mazar-e-Sharif with the other Dynamic employees and have a look around (see map link for location).  

As with most of the country, Mazar-e-Sharif has seen it's share of battles from Ghenghis Khan to the Taliban.  It was one of the last cities to fall to the Taliban and one of the first cities freed (Nov 2001).  Being a stronghold of the Northern Alliance and having a large population of Hazara people and predominately Shia muslims, Mazar-e-Sharif was the scene of some of the most atrocious acts of the Taliban Era.  However, as the first city regained, it is now considered one of the more secure areas in the country.  

The customer being flown had arranged to have a driver waiting at the airport and at our disposal for the day.  We arrived to find an armored car waiting for us complete with security detail.  Not exactly what we had in mind.  Being followed around by a guy with an AK does not make for a day of leisurely sightseeing.  Number 1 safety point, don't look obvious.  Both the guard and driver said they spoke a little English, which usually means they know how to say the phrase "a little."  After making it clear to our guard that he would be staying with the car, we were taken to the Blue Mosque.  We've quickly realized that it is difficult to make concrete plans in Afghanistan; the situation here is fluid at best.  When we arrived at the mosque, there were hundreds and hundreds of people walking through the gates.  Safety point number 2, avoid crowds.  

We called our fixer, Rafi, and asked if he knew of any reason to avoid the mosque.  He asked if the crowd was Hazara, it was.  Then he asked if they looked angry, they didn't.   Then he asked if they were carrying banners, they were.  He said they were either protesting the killing of a group of Hazara by the Kochi tribe (the government has done little to respond. . . but yet again, that's a whole other post), or they were mourning the recent death of one of their leaders.  Since they didn't look angry and weren't protesting the war, he said it was probably safe.  But just to be on the cautious side, he recommended that we take a driving tour of Mazar-e-Sharif and then return to the mosque to see if things had settled.  He told this to our driver, who proceeded to drive around the mosque block about 15 times.  This is when we learned that there isn't much to see in Mazar-e-Sharif besides the mosque.  About lap 10, we realized that the crowd had completely dispersed.  We parked and motioned to the guard to stay and tried to motion to the driver that we would take about an hour at the mosque, and we were off.

A little bit of background, the Blue Mosque is the reason why Mazar-e-Sharif exists.  According to a little legend and a little fact, Muhammad's son-in-law/cousin Ali is buried here.  It is said that his followers placed his body on a white camel after his assassination.  Where the camel stopped would be Ali's resting place.  Most believe he is buried in Najaf Iraq.  However, in the 12th century, it was revealed to a mullah in a dream that Ali was buried near Balkh and the town of Mazar-e-Sharif (Tomb of the Exalted) was founded.  A mosque has stood on this spot ever since. 

I have to say that the Blue Mosque is one of the most impressive sites I have seen.  It is also one of the few mosques in Afghanistan that non-Muslims can visit, or at least enter the courtyard.  The mosque is known for its painted tiles and white doves.  I think the pictures speak for themselves.

Of course, being the only foreigners at the mosque, we garnered quite a bit of attention.  From the moment we entered the gates to the moment we got in the car, we were followed by a group of boys utilizing all the English they knew: Are you tourists? What is your name? What is your father's name? Where are you from? Do you work for the UN? Are you soldiers? Afghanistan, good, yes? Kalishnikov. Can I see your (point at sunglasses, point at cell phones, point at camera)? I have to say that I was impressed with their English.  

As I write this blog post, I realize that there is so much that goes into one day of living in Afghanistan.  It is such a different place than anywhere I have ever lived.  Afghanistan takes a completely new historical and cultural context than what we know. As I write this, the last call to prayer has begun (by our tone deaf mullah across the street). It is impossible to fit each experience into a post without countless explanations and background information.  And of course, I am learning as I go.  As our minds reset, our bodies struggle to adjust.  I currently have a high temperature and have spent the majority of the day in the bathroom.  But, as we are quickly learning, all this is part of life in Afghanistan.