Tag Archives: Travel Photographer

Pamplona, Spain

The five kilometer walled “old city” of Pamplona (Spanish) and/or Iruña (Basque) is well preserved. Founded in 74 BC by Roman military and political leader, Pompey. Due to its strategic location it was fortified right way.

* Click to enlarge photos

The Camino de Santiago Frances meanders through town. It was on our third day of the Camino that took us through town 10 years ago. Through being the key word. No time to explore – we had miles ahead of us.

Bill partied here one night 50 years ago and was determined to find the bar so we booked a week’s stay at an Airbnb to allow us the time to investigate. He didn’t remember the name or the location so we drank or way through town trying to figure out which one held Bill’s barstool.

Our apartment was on Estafeta Street right above a popular restaurant/bar. The street is renowned for its 300 meter path where six bulls and thousands of crazy masochists converge for the running of the bulls during the San Fermín festival.

In 11 days, our balcony and all the ones up and down the street, now quiet and unoccupied, will be full of onlookers peering down to the mayhem below. More than 1.5 million people will fill the town.

Preparations are under way. Stores advertise white and red in honor of the celebration – some empty store fronts are shored up with painted murals and fencing has been installed to keep people out of areas. It’s hard to fathom the masses for the festival.

We spent three days on portions of the Camino. The first day we followed the arrows to Cizur Menór and it only took 20 minutes to get lost. I had to pull out the GPS to get oriented. The next time we hiked in the opposite direction. It was like Where’s Waldo trying to find the trail makers. We taxied to Alto del Perdón and walked back – backwards on the trail again! Yes, we got lost but not for long.

Searching for arrows that guide the Way and not knowing where they lead was thrilling. We talked about a reunion walk in the future. We’ll see how that pans out. One thing we learned is that we’re not as strong as we used to be. Super light packs and a few extra days to walk would be essential.

Pamplona pays homage to Ernest Hemingway. A city that he loved and wrote about in his 1926 book The Sun Also Rises. Some of his favorite haunts still stand today attracting tourists and local alike.

San Fermín

We gobbled up as many pinchos as possible and tried to soak in every ounce of Spain as possible.

Hemingway’s book is downloaded on my Kindle to read as we head west – going to let Pamplona linger a bit longer…

La Próxima Ciudad – San Sebastián, Spain

We got up early to catch a 6:30 taxi. The previous night we tried to hire one for the morning and the driver assured us there would be lots of them waiting. No pasa nada. Don’t worry.

All there were was a bunch of drunk and tired party goers. We had allowed ourselves 35 minutes for a 10 minute drive and one guy told us he had been waiting an hour. Panic! There are no ride share companies in town. A taxi was it.

The guy was exhausted after going to three parties in three different barrios where he drank and danced the night away. He said he had a great time as he tried to keep his eyelids open.

I expressed my concern that we’d miss our train and he kindly offered to share his taxi. Twenty minutes later our chariot arrived. The remaining people who got there long before us freaked out that we were getting in a cab out of turn. It was explained and all was well with the world.

Bill tried to give our cabbie friend money and it was turned down with a – it’s for Spain and from Salamanca! ¡Buen viaje! He certainly saved the day.

The 1.5 hour train took us to Valladolid where we switched trains for a 4 hour journey to San Sebastián – also known as Donostia/San Sebastián (Basque and Spanish).

Famous for their pintxos/pinchos (Basque/Spanish). The Spanish dictionary defines a pincho like ‘a portion of food served, sometimes with a cocktail stick, as an aperitif’. The word “pincho” comes from the verb “to pinchar” which means “to pierce”. The pincho is normally served on a piece of bread or other, served usually with a cocktail stick which you can eat in one or two bites.

* Reality is that it takes multiple bites to finish off a pincho! The person who wrote the definition must have been famished and unless you’re a glutton two of them are a meal!

The train ride was stunning. A reminder of all the things we absolutely love about Spain. Lush, forested mountains, quaint villages, rolling farm land and fields of vegetables inter-dispersed with thousand poppies. Often it feels like we’ve stepped into a fairy tale.

We had been to San Sebastián many years ago for just a few hours when Carlos and Isabel took us on a field trip from their hometown about a half hour away for pinchos and a beautiful afternoon lunch.

San Sebastián is on the coast of the Bay of Biscay and 12 miles from the French border. The Basque Country. Where the Urumea River runs along side the town and spills into the bay.

*click photos to enlarge

“We could live here.” rolled off our tongues. The old architecture, the beaches, the long La Concha beach walkway, the forested lush hills, pinchos and bars. I thought I heard Bill said that but upon reflection I think I imagined it.

Our VRBO was in a much quieter area than Salamanca. The bars across the street closed at 9:00 pm. Yes!

Everything was new to us so it was enjoyable exploring. A historical city on the beach was a new kind of perfect. A best kind of yin and yang.

Much to my surprise at Playa de Zurriola in Gros (across the river) nudity was a thing. This isn’t a hidden beach. It’s right there! Wide open for all eyes to see. Yes, they were kinda on the corner but you had to walk past that area to get where you’re going.

Yup! I’m a prude. But the kids, do what you want away from kids…

Of course we stopped to soak it all in. One old dude stripped off his clothing, ran to the water jumped in and frolicked in his nakedness. I was particularly surprised by his willingness to swim in the cold water! Just saying. About 10% of the women sunbathed topless and G-string bottoms were worn by most.

It was kinda funny but this American who sun bathed next to us must have felt some new sense of freedom and was topless. It had to be her first time since she had tan marks from her bathing suit top. We watched her swim in the bay and she actually did frolick. She raised her arms to the sky and spun circles.

It reminded us of three burners we saw on their last day of Burning Man stark naked with super white short tans lines – smiling ear to ear with their new found freedom. Perhaps we’re missing something.

Onwards….

We refrain from shopping when traveling but this time while exploring we stumbled upon a walking shopping district where sirens sang me into a rocky oblivion!

San Sebastián is certainly an international destination and for good reason. We enjoyed every minute of it.

Protest

Slot machine at the train station restaurant

On to Salamanca, Spain

We fell in love with Salamanca ten years ago when I went to extensive Spanish school for three months after walking the Camino de Santiago. Bill said he would learn more Spanish in the bars while I was in school. Game on. I’m sure you could figure out who the winner was in that challenge.

Actually what happened was Bill learned every square inch of the old part of town and beyond – walking while I traumatized my brain. On weekends he would take me on field trips to show me what he had discovered.

*click photos to enlarge

Outside the old city…

What’s scary is how much our memories have deteriorated in 10 years. We eventually found almost all of our favorite spots but it took an effort. Sadly a lot of businesses have closed – perhaps victims of COVID lockdowns.

This time we rented an apartment on Plaza Mayor with a balcony that allowed front row seats to people watching and three concerts.

We took this time to wind down after hotel stays and a whirlwind tour the past couple plus months. Now shifting to the Spaniard clock – sleeping in and staying up late. Tapas and a caña (beer)/wine for lunch, snack time, dinner…. any time, all the time.

Point of clarification – We got on the old person’s clock. The young stay up partying all night long. There is never an hour period of time throughout the night and early morning where you don’t hear them. When we left at 6:30 am to catch a cab to the train the taxi stand was full of drunk party goers waiting for a ride home.

Mid-week we were awakened by super loud partiers in our building. The building is 4 stories with one unit on each floor – ours the 3rd. Their voices reverberated off the walls in the narrow stairwell. It sounded like they were right outside our door until they were inside our apartment! They used a key to enter. Our bedroom was near the door. Bill popped up and grabbed a pillow to hide his private parts and exited our door and met them in the hallway where he said in his best English “leave”. They hightailed it out of there without a rebuttal. They partied for another half or so and then settled down.

I messaged our landlord who tried to convince me that it was impossible since they didn’t have a key and the only way to access is with one! Can you imagine? Later he confessed they must have had a master key.

Salamanca is stunning with old, towering and ornate sandstone buildings. It drips history, with Roman, Muslim and royal periods. The majority of historic buildings were created by the Catholic Church.

The “old city” is a UNESCO World Heritage site and the oldest university in Spain sits smack dab in the middle of it. Columbus studied celestial navigation here prior to sailing for the New World.

In the afternoon some group is celebrating something almost every day with parades, artistic displays or some sort of organized party. It makes me smile to see people living life with a happy purpose.

Storks must be the Salamanca’s mascot. They sit proudly in their huge nests at the tops of churches. The largest gathering was eight. They have a strange clucking call and their vast wingspan shadows the sun when they circle. It appears that they deliver lots of babies.

The central market has many stalls selling fresh fruit, vegetables, meat, cheese, eggs, piglets, chicken, etc. You can shop daily. So wish we had something like this in the USA.

The week went by quickly and with a bit of sadness we left for the next town…

Oh – by the way – Bill is now snapping a photo here and there!

Hola Madrid, Spain

It’s hard to believe it’s been 15 years since we last spent time here.

Madrid is fabulous! The old buildings are eye candy. Food fantastic. First class museums and lush parks. And this time of the year – tons of people. It’s all remarkable.

*click photos to enlarge

In keeping with our routine we walked and walked and walked everywhere. No metros to explore – only one to a train station outside the city to buy tickets which we could have purchased online, and no busses.

We hit the tops of the waves. A repeat of all the things we did 15 years ago.

Stunning is Patrick Blanca’s vertical garden wall – 78 feet tall containing 250 varieties of 15,000 plants.

It felt good to practice our Spanish and eat food different from Central Asia.

Fun story: Bill occasionally puts one of his hearing aides in his pocket when it starts to bug him. This time when we returned to our hotel the aid was missing. It was assumed that he dropped it while taking his money out of his pocket but with it would be impossible to retrace our steps.

Days later we went to back to a bar, after viewing Picasso’s Guernica, where we had eaten on the day that Bill lost his hearing aid ONLY because every other restaurant in the area was full.

I decided to ask our waitress if they found a hearing aid. She looked at us strangely and said I don’t think so – no. The bartender heard the exchange and said Yes! They found it on the sidewalk a few days ago. What are the odds? A crazy miracle for sure.

We found it interesting watching these street sellers walk up with a tarp full of knock off purses, bags, scarves, etc.. They cautiously open their bag, displaying wares and at a moments notice (police) can pull the cord which wraps up their contraband for a quick get away. They looked right and left, constantly accessing of their situation while trying to make a buck. The stress was apparent.

All in all it was fantastic being back. We love Spain. Preston met the love of his life here and it holds special meaning to all of us. There’s more of Spain to come….

Ultimate Uzbekistan – Khviva

We got up at 3:00 am to catch the Bukhara-Urgench express. Paige bought the 4 berth cabin so we had railroad sheets and pillows with privacy for the 6 hour trip across the Kyzylkum Desert.

The conductor’s room.

Urgench is actually 2 towns, the ancient in Turkmenistan and the modern one across the border in Uzbekistan. They also include the ancient settlement of Khiva.

New Urgench is a vast fertile valley served by the Darya River which originates in Tajikistan. The area has been irrigating for more than 2,000 years, growing cotton and rice for export on the Silk Road. It also has exported alfalfa and other seeds for hundreds of years. Since the advent of electricity and pumping power it has really expanded irrigation as it looks like some city along Highway 99 in California.

Walking away from the train station we stopped for breakfast and Paige spotted a restaurant with 2 tandoor type ovens. It became obvious that they were very popular as people bought them one after another.

We’ll take two! A samosa of some sort with a spicy meat filling and a sauce on the side. It took a couple tries to eat them correctly without silverware. When in Rome….

We spent the night in Urgench as it’s the gateway to Khiva but didn’t nothing other than walk around.

Khiva – a crown jewel and great summation to our Central Asia Silk Road adventure.

Per Lonely Planet – The historic heart of Khiva (Xiva) has been so well preserved that it’s sometimes criticised as lifeless – a ‘museum city’. But walk through the city gates and wander the fabled Ichon-Qala (inner walled city) in all its monotone, mud-walled glory and it’s hard not to feel like you are stepping into another era.

Well said!

Within a hour of our arrival, while having lunch, the same Road Scholar tour group we saw Kazakhstan and Tajikistan walked past us!

Our hotel was within the town walls so it was super convenient to walk, eat, explore and take photos. Rinse and repeat for 3 days. Palaces, madrasas, caravansaries/markets filled the town. The night time was stunningly peaceful as the whole town was magically lit.

We celebrated Bill’s birthday at a roof top restaurant with a sunset dinner. Below a woman baked fresh bread Tandoor style.

My camera finally kicked the bucket! No more limping along. Now just dead weight in my pack.

Back to Urgench for our last night and a morning flight to……. It’s time for a different selection of food.

Uzbekistan – Bukhara

It was a two hour high speed train that took us from Samarkand to Bukhara – the historic city center is another UNESCO World Heritage site.

*click on photos to enlarge

Early morning bread delivery to the train station

Different from Samarkand Bukhara hasn’t changed much since it’s inception. No big shiny, new buildings and restorations haven’t changed much from its original form.

The Bukhara Fortress, the Ark, is an intact magnificent walled (up to 66’ tall) city full of madrassas, mosques and markets. It was occupied without interruption from 4 BC to 1920 when the last Emir was removed by the Bolsheviks.

Through out our time in Central Asia people asked if would pose with them in a photo. In a sea of dark hair my white hair stood out like Rudolph’s red nose. Bill often is referred to as 007.

Cotton is a major resource exporting to Eastern Europe. Handwoven rugs and embroidered items hang from railings hawked to persons apparently traveling with trunks and not carry-on luggage.

Outside Bukhara is the summer palace of the Emirs – Sitora-I Mokhi Khosa.

Back streets encounters find children kicking soccer balls, bikes, markets and doors with treasures.

We stumbled upon a group of men playing cards and backgammon. After asking if I could take a photo they kindly invited us in to share chai tea. Again, we did not share the same language but sat like old friends.

Three generations – grandma, mom and grandson were picking apples in their front yard. They flagged us down and insisted upon sharing a handful of tart and tasty, small green apples. I think they would have given us a box full had we not insisted that a handful was enough.

Evening roof top dinners, cocktails and sunsets were the icing on the top of each day.

Uzbekistan- Tashkent to Samarkand

Venturing into a train station to buy tickets where no one speaks English can be a bit tricky. Lucky for us a kind gentleman offered to assist in translating. The Uzbek people have to be the kindest that we’ve encountered on this trip.

Men put their right hand across their heart and bow ever so slightly to greet or thank one another. This is especially true toward women since men do not shake a woman’s hand. It feels so kind.

The same kindness is granted on the road. In either direction no matter how many lanes one car pulls over slightly so another may pass. The same is true with oncoming traffic – cars move slightly aside to allow passage. It gets a little tenuous when 4 cars share 2 lanes but somehow it works. No road rage!

Back to the train station. Our new friend walked us to the counter and asked for two tickets to Samarkand. The ticket lady told him there were only upper seats available and perhaps we could ask for a lower one once we got on the train. Ok – that seems simple.

After helping us John (his English name) gave us his name, phone number and email address offering to help us in any way while we’re in his country. Wow.

It’s a four plus hour train ride to Samarkand. Founded in the 7th century BC. Hugely popular on the Silk Road trail making it the most crowded tourist spot so far. The Registan (UNESCO), Gur-e-Amir, Bibi-Khanym Mosque and Shah-i-Zinda were so full of people that it took away from its peacefulness but not its majestic beauty.

*click on photos to enlarge

Samarkand, the navel of the vast empire held by Timur aka Tamerlane (1300’s) one of history’s greatest and cruelest conquers. It was built by architects, artists and craftsmen abducted by Tamerlane and his his descendants from away conquered territories for 2,000 year it was one of the most important stops on the Silk Road, it’s bazaars thronged with merchants and shoppers.

Controversial and frowned upon by some it is believed that the government has “over-restored” these once falling down sites making them appear more like “Disneyland”. However to stand the test of time one must restore – right?

Back to the train – I had pictured a double decker train since our seats were upstairs. HA! Talk about lost in translation. Upstairs is a small bunk. Bill and I discovered we both had these and also were in separate parts of the compartment. Our carry-on luggage now seemed huge as there was virtually no place to store them. The lack of air circulation had me in melting. I must have looked a wreck.

Two sweet women noted the confusion on our faces and the sweat on my brow while we tried to figure out our seats, luggage, etc. Moments later one of the women came up to me and motioned for me to follow. She pointed to the top bunk and the seat below. Don’t know how she arranged that but it worked out perfect. Bill would have never fit in the bunk. The seat offered no room for his legs since his suitcase filled that space but he was extremely grateful for the seat. Bill sat like a yogi pretzel and I was able to recline and nap. Fortunately there was a tiny window above the bunk that allowed fresh air during the journey. It worked out perfect.

Across the way a beautiful young woman snapped a photo of me in the bunk and then motioned for me to hand her my phone where she opened my Instagram account, shared the photo and the followed my account. From her account I learned she’s a doctor finishing her medical degree and gymnast coach. She was traveling with three young gymnasts for a competition.

The history and the architecture in each location are stunning but it’s these little life events with others with whom we can not conversant but still manage to communicate that make exploring new cultures so worthwhile.

We saw this stunning white building with its door ajar. An invitation to sneak in – right? We stumbled upon this ornate room that was set up for a wedding. Wowza. The worker was sitting on the floor in the corner on his phone. He had no idea we were there.

An open door in another alleyway showcased a collection of old treasures for sale. While I snapped some photos Bill visited with the owner.

Now having been to several cities in Uzbekistan we’ve learned that kiddie parks are part of the landscape.

My camera has been giving me grief. The shutter button at times stops working. I can reset it by removing the battery and reinserting it only to have it happen after a few shots. UGH! Thank goodness I’m not photographing a wedding.

Japanese tourist was wearing these!

Shoe repair

These punching machines are scattered around the town.

Uzbekistan continued…

On our adventure to follow the Silk Road Uzbekistan might be the crown jewel.

The land of storks, white Chevrolets (were told Chevy has a factory here) and 3,000 mosques in Tashkent alone, ping pong and two Russian cosmonauts (one-upping Kazakhstan from where Sputnik was launched).

*click photos to enlarge

We walked our legs off in the capital and largest city – Tashkent – which means city of stone or stone city. Founded over 2,218 years ago. Part old beautiful Soviet buildings (yes – they do exist), part mud houses and then the shiny new which are popping up like freshly planted seeds. Like Beijing, the hutongs are being razed and replaced with square high rises.

Hideous, run down and beautiful was the Uzbekistan Hotel. Built in 1974 and had to have been the cat’s meow. Now a beacon on the horizon, photo op and a place where Bill got a hair cut.

The are large flood irrigated parks and open irrigation ditches and drains. A kiddie sized carnival embedded in the heart of the city park where mini-me sized rides and games entertain all year round.

Kyrgyzstan to Kazakhstan to Uzbekistan with a detour to Tajikistan

From Bishkek we followed the Silk Road to Tashkent, Uzbekistan via Shymkent, Kazakhstan. Another crossroad conquered and destroyed by all the great invaders. It lies in the foothills above a great valley. Noteworthy because Timurlane the Great died here, and the city’s forges produced millions of lead bullets for Russia’s WWII fight against Germany.

*click on photos to enlarge

The train left the station at 11:22 pm and lasted 14 hours. We paid for all 4 berths in one compartment assuring us some privacy (approx. $32.00 total). Unfortunately that compartment was only a door away from the WC (water closet/toilet). Thick pads and down pillows were rolled up on the top berth and to my horror there were no linens.

The ticket collector showed up and plopped down next to Bill and we tried to communicate while he looked to make sure our paperwork was in order. Russian is the “common” language amongst the Caucuses and we can’t speak a word of it. He spoke no English. Overall it worked out well and we had a jolly time. Bill offered him a tip and he walked away happy.

About 10 minutes later he returned with two sealed bag of clean sheets. Yes!

Bill and I snacked on red wine and potato chips and quickly fell asleep.

Near the Kyrgyzstan border the steward woke us up and told us to wait….. a half hour later young military men showed up at our door speed talking. We said something in English to which they asked back “Do you speak Russian?” Yeah right.

Passport. Check. Then the young man pointed to my suitcase and grunted. I opened my suitcase and he was satisfied after a portion of it was emptied. He motioned to close it, did an about face and left.

Off to sleep again…

At the Kazakhstan border it was a repeat of the whole language barrier, passport scenario……. It’s now 3:20 am and this time the young military man, holding a small 3”x 3” video camera, demanded that we empty our entire backpacks on the bed and then demanded we open our suitcases and empty them. The backpack contents were mounded next to us and left no room for the suitcase contents. So like good passive aggressive people we moved things around and didn’t unload. He dug into Bill’s suitcase – grunting. He didn’t put his hands in my bag and gave up after I moved a few things around. Next the immigration man stepped in and did the passport ritual of photos and stamping our books while the first showed back up with the drug sniffing dog. Geez.

Bill thought he’d be exempt from being hassled at borders because he’s an old guy. Apparently that was just another case of MSU.

By 4 am we were fast asleep again. The fumes from the bathroom had thoroughly permeated our cabin. Nothing like the smell of urine in the morning to make you hop out of bed.

We stood in the hallway in front of the small open window waiting to pull into Shymkent.

We hired their equivalent to Uber to take us to the border so we could do the easy peasy walk through and then grabbed another in Uzbekistan to take us the the capital city of Tashkent.

Uzbekistan is another landlocked country surround by 5 landlocked countries – Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Afghanistan and Turkmenistan.

By luck of the draw we ended up in a hotel with a great location. Surrounded by tasty restaurants and walking distance (albeit long) to the happening places.

We left Uzbekistan for a day trip to Tajikistan. Brand new cities were being built outside Tashkent much like China.

We ran into the same Road Scholar group from Kazakhstan in the immigration line at the Tajikistan border! Crazy.

Tajikistan – has a slight different feel of remoteness and less homogeneity, having 2 lengthy borders with China and Afghanistan and serious mountain ranges. This remoteness seems to have slowed its movement toward the west, but not the desire.

Many residents migrate to Russia and work summers harvesting crops. The local swimming pool is open for men only 6 days a week and women! About 50% of the city dwellers own car.

Khujand is another 2500 year old city founded by Alexander the Great and built on an 8th century BC fortress and is the eastern most point of his empire. During the Russian era it was known as Leninbad. The army of Genghis Khan later destroyed the town and razed it to the ground. The revival of the city was aided by its geographical position on the Silk Road.

Portion of the original wall built by Alexander the Great

It has a fabulous Alexander the Great fortress, museum and caravanserai.

On a side note – the capital of Dushanbe is home of the famous Buddha in Nirvana or Sleeping Buddha statue founded in 1959 and dating back to the 5th or 6th century. It is the largest clay Buddha statue in the world. America contributed $30,000 toward its restoration.

p.s. The blog is pretty much caught up. As of May 26th we’re still in Uzbekistan. Tomorrow is Bill’s birthday!

Kyrgyzstan

We contacted a company (all done by What’sApp) to arrange a driver from Almaty, Kazakhstan to the border of Kyrgyzstan and then another driver on the Kyrgyzstan side to take us to the capital city of Bishkek.

Our first non-English speaking driver had a black Camry that was huge (unlike American Camrys) with leather seats and more bells and whistles than typical – the back seats had electronic reclining adjustments. Very unusual and especially for the price we paid. His mission was to get us there in half the time it should take. Time is money! Poor Bill had to ask him to slow down to help curb my fear of crashing.

The two driver system is genius because the line of cars at the border was insanely long. We just walked on through easy peasy.

The driver on the other side surprisingly spoke English. He had taken it in school 20 years ago and said he was rusty for lack of using it. It was the first time in many, many countries that a driver/cabbie could communicate with us.

Kyrgyzstan is another landlocked country in Central Asia. It borders Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and China.

Bishkek is another spread-out city with virtually no beautiful historical buildings. It looked and felt like a throwback to Soviet times. The one thing it did have was a long walking park with tall trees and gorgeous roses in full bloom. It included a vast carnival and kiddie park, selling cotton candy at 10 am.

Groups of old men gather in the squares around the old soviet buildings – squatting on their heels ala Viet Nam.

Adorable are the older women with colorful scarves wrapped around their hair. Usually contrasting the colors of their dress to make it visually interesting and beautiful.

Zhang Qian crossed near here and documented his travels in 138 B.C.

Numerous Buddhist and Muslim rock inscriptions surround mosques, temples and Christian churches from the 800s through the 1600s.

The natural light hit this painting perfectly

In town a vast and bustling market remains. Outside the city nomadic tribes live in their yurts and move, livestock among the foothills and steppes.

We’re wearing out the treads on our shoes as we explore.

Kazakhstan

Officially known as the Republic of Kazakhstan. It borders Russia, China, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and the Caspian Sea – phew that’s a lot of borders. It’s the world’s largest landlocked country.

We fly into Almaty, the former capital. Expansive and not so easy to navigate all the highlights on foot unless you’re masochists like us. Most people travel to Kazakhstan to play in the mountains.

Almaty is not a picturesque architecture wise but the stunning snow filled Alatau mountains that nearly surround the city are breathtaking.

Our mission was to follow as much of the Silk Road as possible so we headed east toward China.

The Silk Road spread to fundamental products – commerce and religion.

We have followed the road in China to Xi’an and Chengdu, but we are missing the vast west of China which we hope to fill in next year. The missing portion is replete with ancient Buddhist art.

But lo and behold near the Chinese border we saw a Buddhist temple which is a Mosque. It was strange to behold. As we wondered around seeing obvious physical evidence to each religion. It also included a small museum of Silk Road artifacts.

As we left the border the sky darkened and near the Big Tree called Ulken Agash we were inundated by a beautiful thunder storm with rain and hail rendering us soaked to the bone. This tree was frequented by Silk Road businessmen who believed that walking around it seven times would bring them luck.

Aisan and Iden. Aisan worked at the reception desk and joined us. Iden was the brother of a friend who drove.

We returned west across the Altyn Emel National Park which scenery was spectacular, with wide lush valleys dotted with Silk Road cemeteries, cattle, horses, sheep, goats, donkeys and red poppies. It reminded us of Northwestern Elko County.

Gas lines are run above ground.

Our walking journey in Almaty took us to the Russian Othrodox Ascension Cathedral where we ran into a Road Scholar tour. The first Americans we’ve seen since leaving Dubai.

Bill continues to whoop me playing rummy 500. We’re having a blast exploring with the best of the Silk Road yet to come…

Azerbaijan

Azerbaijan is in the South Caucasus region and is surrounded by Russia, Georgia, Türkiye, Iran and the Caspian Sea.

After being warned in Armenia and subsequently reading online, we were prepared to be hassled upon arrival since we have an Armenian stamp in our passports. You’re either with us or against us in our continuing border war. Immigration was supposed to grill us, inventory our medicine with prescriptions, count our money, prove our hotel AND flight out of the country and perhaps deny us entry.

Fake news – I say! Immigration and customs was a breeze. No questions asked. Welcome to Azerbaijan!

As we flew over the capital city of Baku it looked parched and dry but the city couldn’t have been more different on the ground.

Not sure if it had anything to do with it being a week after the Formula 1 race but the city is stunning! Baku rests 92 feet below sea level. The lowest national city in the world and the largest city below sea level.

Lonely Planets describes it as “the architectural love child of Paris and Dubai”, and one of the fastest changing cities in the world. It’s a great combination of old and new architecture.

We stayed within the ancient walled city – an UNESCO World Heritage site. A wonderful place to get lost in its narrowing winding alleyways. Sandstone buildings and cobblestone roads make for warm, nostalgic feelings.

Just outside the wall are parks with huge fountains and stunning landscaping. Metropolitan with a few suburban qualities.

On the shore of the Caspian Sea, which I learned is a huge lake and historically may have been connected to the Black Sea, is a long and wide promenade with views of modern glass buildings and the old town.

In Bill’s adventure to follow the Silk Road we drove to the Caucasus mountain town of Sheki – an important city that welcomed merchants and travellers from all over the world, founded in the 1st century BC. We walked the grounds of another caravanserai which now functions as a museum and hotel and the UNESCO site of Sheki Kahn Palace. The Way came from Tabriz and passed on to Sinhnaghi in Georgia. Up the road is the village of Kish. Here, built over a pagan temple, sits the oldest Albanian Orthodox Church, built perhaps in 50-60 A.D. . The convent, walled grounds and access road are built of river rock, and all still used and well-maintained. This church, begun by disciple Elishe, is probably the oldest Christian church in Central Asia, a vast area under Albanian control (no relation to Eastern European Albania) before Turkic, Macedonian and Mongol (then Russia) took turns invading and destroying much of the ancient civilization.

The balance of the valleys and foothills are verdant with grapes, apples and wheat growing over hill and dale.

Similar to Armenia and Georgia sheep and cows are watched by shepherds as there are no fences.

Natural gas burning in the desert sand was mystical to early inhabitants. A massive gas field discovery in recent years is fueling the flame of progress. The Flame Towers symbolize the country’s close relationship with fire.

On a side note: the airport is beautiful. They have these sleeping pods available for free and these “Cocoons” are filled with stores and restaurants.

The Country of Georgia

Back to Armenia for a second (Bill is chiming in). We flew over Iran nearly the entire trip from Dubai to Armenia. I don’t think U.S. carriers do. Along the way we had a magnificent view of Mt. Ararat. If you see that speck in Paige’s photo it might be Noah’s Ark.

Now to Georgia – at the intersection of Eastern Europe and Western Asia (Caucasus region) bordering the Black Sea, Russia, Turkey, Armenia and Azerbaijan.

The capital of Tbilisi is yet again a city reminiscent of Europe, conceivably a bit fancier than Yerevan.

*click on photos to enlarge

The city’s name is derived from the Georgian word “tbili,” meaning warm, perhaps a nod to their famous sulfur baths founded in the 5th century.

On the banks of the Kura River which divides the city, cliffs and hills overlook the tall sycamore trees that line the streets. Tiny alleyways are filled with quaint al fresco restaurants uniquely decorated.

Old books are displayed on any flat surface waiting to be purchased by the non-digital reader.

Underground passageways allow people to cross the street safely, avoid inclement weather and shop at the same time. They’re brilliant!

The food might be our favorite so far – rich, creamy, spicy, garlicky and delicious. Like French bread is to France – Shoti bread is to Georgia. Tasty and soft in the middle with crispy edges, moon shaped and made in tandoor ovens.

The dinner crowd steps out late like in Spain but unlike Spain dining is available all day.

Our guide said it’s the world’s oldest makers of wine but the internet and maybe the discovery of the winery in the Armenian cave might challenge that. However, UNESCO added their ancient and traditional winemaking method, using the Kvevri clay pots (stored in the ground) to their Intangible Cultural Heritage List in 2013.

Left-over grapes are used to make cha-cha, a clear grappa type drink that tastes like gasoline. Wine and cha-cha are sold everywhere from fancy stores to tiny homemade kiosks.

The under 30 crowd looked like a throw back from Berlin some 30 years ago wearing funky black clothes and Doc Marten’s.

Smoking must be a National pastime as everyone seemed to have a cigarette dangling off the edge of their lips or pressed between their fingers.

Feral dogs are tagged to show they have been sterilized. Seems a humane way to address the dog problem.

The tiny walled city of Sighnaghi is a must see. Reminiscent of Italy with stone terra-cotta roofed buildings dating back to the 17th century lining narrow windy streets. The Alazani valley and Caucasus mountain views are stunning. This is a Silk Road stop, with the 4th century Bodbe Convent (church), walled city and caravansarie overlooking the valley below, the Caucasus mountains and Russia in the distance.

The country’s sweet – churchkhela

Miscellaneous from Tbilisi and beyond…

Armenia

Armenia – a landlocked country in Western Asia (Caucasus region), sharing its borders with Turkey, Georgia, Iran and Azerbaijan.

Azerbaijan and Armenia are bitter rivals disputing their territory since the 1980’s. Their current war is in the Nagorno-Karabakh border area. All of Azerbaijan’s borders are closed to land travel.

We had been using a tourist map that showed areas of Armenia denoting treasured historical and fascinating places to see.

Compare maps:

Tourist map we got from the hotel

Internet version showing it’s Azerbaijan

On our drive to Goris our non-English speaking driver pointed out large amounts of dirt bunkers and with his hands mimicked holding a rifle and made a shooting sound and said Azerbaijan. Upon searching the internet we realized that we were 100 miles from the conflict area. Click here to read about it.

*click on photos to enlarge

We’ve since learned that our passage to Azerbaijan is going to be tenuous once they see Armenian stamps in our passports. It is understood that we’ll get in but will have to prove we weren’t in this disputed region.

Back to the fun stuff – wowza. The capital city of Yerevan is like a European city with stunning architecture, walking friendly, fabulous sidewalk cafes, parks and decorative fountains galore (most of which were being turned on the day before we left). It felt very family oriented with parks offering rides and games for children. Don’t get me wrong old USSR is present but the European charm shines beyond it.

: I don’t know what is it but I love photos showing “life”

The small Russian Lada cars are commonplace and reminded me of an old times. Like the old American cars in Havana.

On a clear day you can see Mt. Ararat and said to be the resting place of Noah’s Ark.

It was fascinating to learn that it was here in 301 AD when Gregory the Illuminator converted paganism into Christianity making it the first state to adopt Christianity as their religion. It was a beautiful but tragic story leading to Gregory being thrown into a pit at Khor Virap for 13 years (I climbed down a long narrow ladder 197’ deep, inside the church, to witness this deep dungeon) only to be removed to save the king from utter madness and change the course of history. The story reads better than fiction and I encourage you to click on this link to read about it.

There are stories after stories about Jesus, martyrs, Saints, war, genocide. The churches (Monasteries) are plentiful, grand and magnificent.

Geghard Monastery (the Monastery of the Spear) is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Carved out of the rocks and allegedly where Jude (Thaddeus) brought and stored the spear that wounded Jesus.

The countryside is stunning. We’re so lucky to be here when’s it’s green.

Yes! We drove on this road.

Some tid-bits:

In the country gas lines are run in pipes above ground.
Pulpulka drinking fountains bubble fresh drinking water 24/7 (Armenia is known to have the freshest, clean and natural drinking water).
The soil is rocky and lacking trees.
They having a thriving wine industry. In 2008 wine pots were discovered in a cave dating back some 6,100 years making this the oldest known winery.
Small cow herds roam the country and are watched by shepherds.
Women (mostly younger) worn oversized blazer. Perhaps it’s back in season?
They believe they escaped COVID by drinking vodka!

Fruit juice contains fruit

Lavash made the old traditional way in the countryside and newer more automated way elsewhere.

It was all enchanting and captivating! Highly recommended.

Dubai, UAE

Dubai is the city of superlatives.

The – best, largest, biggest, tallest, luxurious, richest,, iconic, uniquest, fastest, cleanest, most-est…

We stayed at the Marina Sheraton (filled with Russian guests), nine stories tall. Ten years ago we stayed at the Ritz Carlton, four stories tall. These hotels are now absolutely dwarfed by dozens and dozens of 30 -100 story neighbors but they both have vast private lawns and beaches; and are reminiscent of the Raffles in Singapore and the Metropole in Hanoi, symbols of a bygone era in travel.

On Dubai Creek – a U-shaped nine mile long inlet – is the old quarters. Amongst everything you’ll find gypsum and coral buildings, gold and spice souks, textiles and wooden dhow boats delivering goods and merchandise to the Middle East and North Africa. The lack of everything tall and big is a contrast to the new Dubai. Contrary to the balance of the Emirates, only 1% of Dubai’s annual revenues come from oil and gas. It is sustaining and succeeding on returns from shipping, logistics, finance and tourism.

Dubai’s population is just over 3,000,000 with approximately 15% being UAE nationals, the rest are expats. Islam is the state religion.

Nationals wear traditional clothing – women, the Abaya (long cloak – mostly in black) with a hijab and men, the Kandura (long cloak with long sleeves – white in the summer and darker colors in the winter) and the ghutrah (head-dress).

On the contrary women were wearing clothing so revealing that it left nothing to the imagination – g-string bathing suits were the rage on the beach – worn by young women to old ladies!

With the cruise in the rear mirror we now have the time and freedom to explore at our pace.

Oh Man! Oman

Forming the N/E portion of the Arabian peninsula, we are across the Gulf of Oman from Iran, and our stop at Salalah is approximately 30 miles up the coast from Yemen, neither one of which are current feel good spots for Americans. The mountains, arroyos and blue water remind us of southern Baja – I guess it’s called a desert.

Oman is also our first contact with Marco Polo country, since he stopped here, returning to Venice by sea from one of his trips to China.

Salalah is the world’s historic source of frankincense, brought to the birth of Jesus by the three kings and delivered to Zanzibar and India by early sailor/traders.

Our cabbie for the day, Noah, just became a father the previous day, adding to his children, who are 25, 24, 14 and 12.

We drove into the mountains to see Job’s tomb, crowded because it was a post Ramadan holiday.

Along the way, we passed literally hundreds of acres of a festival site, which occur annually over a month or two. By its size it must dwarf Coachella or Burning Man.

Hotel sized homes dotted the road. The size accommodates a wealthy man, his multiple wives and children.

The desert and foothills were scattered with camels, domestic and wild. They control the roads, since there are no fences.

The capital, Muscat, is a dead ringer for Indian Wells, California. Date palms, and bougainvillea, Mount Eisenhower and the Living Desert, no high-rises, just white-washed villas and green lawns – tiled palaces and mosques, with the Sultan’s two yachts bobbing in the harbor.

The current Sultan deposed his father in the 1970s and has used his oil and gas dollars to create a clean attractive capital, which has half the population of Oman.

With the exception of a few old stone forts, the development is all post 1970.

Large roads, cut through the coastal range to allow expansion of the city inland, keeping the port village, small and quaint. Inland the row of car dealerships line up, like Los Angeles, including all the exotic manufacturers.

A planned community with a planned economy, and with total iron fisted control, which results in this kind of eye candy, is almost tempting to endorse.

Seychelles

Seychelles – a place I have longed to visit but it was so far away from anywhere (the closet airport is 7 hours from the east coast of Africa) that I figured it wasn’t in the cards.

Lo and behold it appeared on an African cruise itinerary.

Comprising of 115 islands. The flora and fauna, the humidity and the turtle doves reminded us of Hawaii.

Mahé is the largest island in the Seychelles – 60.7 square miles – population is approximately 95,000. and 86% of the country lives on this island.

The town of Victoria was walking distance from the port. We soaked in the local life as we sweated like an icy glass of water in the hot sun.

*click on photos to enlarge

The beaches are the draw. My mission was to get us to Beau Vallon Beach on the other side of the island.

I’m the one with the cheap gene in the family – passed down for generations. Uncharacteristically Bill decided that a $25 taxi fare to the beach was absurd for the sign said it was only 4K away.

After asking multiple taxi drivers the cost he exclaimed to the last one that we would walk. The man pointed to the mountain in front of us and said no you won’t.

As Confucius says “Roads were made for journeys not destinations.”

Second option was taking the local bus to the beach. We managed to jump on a full bus ready to depart the station. Being the last passengers on board the only option was a standing position by the driver.

Bill said “We can stand – it’s only 4 clicks”.

Oh but wait – it was rush hour. Bumper to bumper traffic that moved slower than a snail. Forget the 4 clicks which was way wrong – the amount of time spent standing with my backpack weighing me down and packed in like sardines had sweat dripping down my face hindering my sight. Pools of water seeped from every pore. The fellow passengers wouldn’t make eye contact. They had to assume I was sick with some disease.

After finally breaking free from the traffic jam our driver went peddle to the metal and climbed the tight mountain curves (with no shoulder) throwing the two of us around like a sack of potatoes. We white knuckled the bars to keep ourselves upright at the same time giggling like school kids. The rest of the bus remained silent.

Unbelievably, the driver stopped three more times and allowed more passengers to board. How the bus absorbed them was a mystery. It just added to the heat. The open windows offered no relief.

What goes up must come down. I don’t know if it has harder hanging on going up or down.

All the people at the front of the bus must have known which beach we were heading to because when the driver stopped we were told it was our time to get off.

Phew. All that excitement for a $1.50!!!

The beach was lovely. White sand and clear warm water.

Our cruise wasn’t leaving until 4 am and this allowed us to have a beautiful beach-front sunset dinner with cocktails.

By the time dinner was over the busses had stopped operating so we paid $20 for a taxi ride back to the port! HA!

The next day we arrived at La Digue – the 4th largest island – population 2,800 and 3.89 square miles.

Now this is what I saw in photos. An oasis – where tall mountains are blanketed in tropical green. Huge rock formations are scattered on the white sand beaches and the Indian Ocean is crystal clear. Coral reefs make beautiful designs below the water’s surface.

It is home to one of the most photographed beaches in the world – Anse Source d’Argent.

Bicycles are the popular form of transportation and personal vehicles are scarce.

Poor Bill had to pedal in the heat of the day so I too could photograph the most popular beach.

Popular = people. Too many for any special photos.

We peddled to a quiet beach where we could leave the camera, phones, etc and do what was really most important – wading in the Indian Ocean until our fingers became pruney.

Nosy Be, Madagascar

Nosy Be (means big island in Malagasy) is located an half mile off the Northwest coast of Madagascar – it’s 123.56 square miles and is the number one beach destination for the country. Malagasy and French are spoken here.

The cruise boat offered a shuttle to the commercial district. The main street is lined with restaurants and larger stores where as the side streets are filled with small booths, one next to another as far as the eye scan see selling every type of goods (mostly from China) and food that you can imagine. Tuk tuks swarm like bees.

Some shopkeepers squatted in their stores engulfed by their products while others sat out in front chit chatting with friends and family and enticing consumers to buy.

Along with a fellow cruiser (from Thailand by way of Santa Barbara) we hired a tuk-tuk for the ride to the “best “ beach.

The road was riddled with large pot holes. The tuk-tuks bobbed and weaved in a perfectly corrugated dance to avoid the volcano sized holes, occasionally being confronted by a massive truck approaching in the opposite direction. All this around a huge road construction project. Utter chaos.

The countryside is lush and tropical. Small wooden stick homes reveal poverty where most people live on the equivalent of $1 USD per day.

Suddenly hotels, restaurants and PADI dive shops started popping up a sign that we were getting closer to the beach.

The water is getting bluer as we head north but we’ve yet to see the turquoise water advertised on the internet. Supposedly Nosy Be has offers that as well but traveling there required a drive longer than our time allowed.

It was all exciting and colorful.

Police busting the hawkers

Mayotte, Comoros

A French territory located in northern part of the Mozambique Channel in the Indian Ocean. Most people are Muslim, but interestingly…..when independence was offered, the Mayotte trio of the Comoros Islands opted to remain a French possession. Thus French is spoken, the euro is the currency and baguettes are the National starch. Somewhat like the Falklands and Britain.

*click on photos to enlarge

We docked in Grande-Terre (large island) and walked around the main part of town. It is an endless market of mostly homemade, new items from China or used “stuff”.

Close up

Spider by the taxi sign

It’s getting hotter and the humidity is high. Dressing conservatively – knees and elbows covered – make for a sweaty day. I can’t imagine wearing a hijab in this climate. The good news is that it is lush with green goodness.

After exploring Grande-Terre we hopped on a car ferry to Petite-Terre. We used sign language to purchase our tickets (hoping we were in the correct boat) as English is not spoken.

The mass of beautiful woman dressed in a rainbow of bright colors was eye candy for my camera lens.

On Petite-Terre we walked to a beach area to cool down, relax and sip Pernod and beer.

Maputo, Mozambique

Maputo (sounds like Ma-pu-tu) is the bustling capital city. Previously named Lourenço Marques after a navigator who explored the area in 1544. Upon independence as a Portuguese colony in 1975 it was renamed Maputo. It borders Eswatini and South Africa.

The architecture is a combination of old uninteresting concrete buildings with occasional unique and charming Mediterranean buildings in between – like the creamy middle of an Oreo cookie.

*click to enlarge photos

The city is right next to the port and easy to get to by foot. The streets are lined with jacaranda and flame trees (our favorite from Baja – árbol de fuego).

Armed police were scattered about and security guards stood in doorways which I took as a warning to keep my camera hidden.

The Maputo Central Train station was quiet with only a couple people wandering around. Two passengers napped on a bench engulfed in their luggage. It’s named one of the top 10 most beautiful train stations in the world by Time Magazine and Newsweek.