The Foreign Traveler

Bishapur ancient city, Iran

2011-12-31T23:33:00.001+04:00

Bishapur

The city of Shapur, king of the Sassanids. A.D. 260

About 2 hours drive out of Shiraz is another old city of Iran, Bishapur. It's half way to the Gulf, (coincidently, on the news today they announced that Iran will close the Straits of Hormuz if they don't remove the sanctions and allow oil to be sold!) through beautiful valleys of spectacular mountains and wild orchids.

Narrow valleys with bas-reliefs up the side were damaged by a trough for a water mills and Muslim extremists hacking off parts of statues (though it does puzzle me why they went for the horse's tassels instead of something else more important). The city consisted of a super castle perched up on the side of the mountain, and hills and hills of unexcavated ruins. Mum and I were disappointed that the cave with the 7 meter high statue of Shapur that we had been looking forward to seeing was a 1 and a 1/2 hour walk up a cliff face that we did not have time for.

However, one of the most remarkable things I've ever seen is Anahita's temple, which was a massive, very tidy stone courtyard 7 meters underground where there would have been a pool for worshippers. I've never seen an old city with something so big and open below the level of the land, and it was so well constructed with massive stone blocks that fitted together almost without mortar. A square corridor around it disappeared underground. It would have been a beautiful building and a beautiful pool, but the fact that it was so complete and intact and underground as well (the underground bit was what allowed it to be intact) were quite amazing!

Found it fascinating to imagine the 70,000 or so Roman soldiers (prisoners of war) that built the city. They had lost to Shapur, and I believe they lived the rest of their lives out there as punishment. Roman emperor Valerian mentioned that if he'd lost he would have had Shapur cut into bits and distributed in the hills so that the eagles could eat him (which somewhat complied with Zoroastrian beliefs, but not really), but Shapur built Valerian a palace so he could live out his days in this spectacular location. What would it be like to go off to fight and to never return to your home? Most of the soldiers would have been from all over the empire, and Iran is beautiful, but that is really a punishment in emotive proportions. Would there have been resentment or contentment? How have their genes dispersed down through Iran's lineage? We were talking yesterday about how Gengis Khan impregnated 500 women (or was it 100?) and now around 15 million people can trace their genetic code back to him across Asia and Europe. Where are the genes from those soldiers? Shouldn't everyone around here have blue eyes and blonde hair, although I recognize that's a stereotype.

We wandered the palace and a massive domed reception hall (sans dome of course) while the sun set in front of us. Not another soul was around the entire time, and it was peaceful and relaxed. Mum said the ruins in Turkey were like that in the 70s, but now imagine they are as roped off and sterile as Persepolis is today. For moments I decide I like the organization and good management and preservation, but really, I am pretty sure that I prefer the freedom to roam wherever I wish and the romanticism that occurs to me in a wild site.

Was a bit disgusted by Lonely Planet's lack of info on the site, really. Just another example of money taking precedence over quality.

Ghesm Island, Iran

2011-12-27T23:31:00.037+04:00

Flying from Shiraz to Ghesm showed amazing lines of dry mountains and winding riverbeds slowly turn into drastic cliffs and scrubby desert.

We landed and were impressed by the tourist information booth ('Seven wonders of the Persian Gulf') and the on site diving incubator! We joined the swarm for a taxi, finally getting in one, we pondered how much it would cost as there was no meter. How hard to bargain? Then we saw that it was 45km to town and were glad we hadn't asked as it would probably have just shocked us! However, as is reasonable Iran, it ended up only being $15.

The view from the Diplomat Hotel in Ghesm town. Hormuz Island is on the horizon but difficult to see.

We got to the Diplomat Hotel whose tiny zoo-like lobby was a fascinating look into the travelers of Ghesm. A sign on the wall warned that all women must wear Islamic dress including the hijab, but a glance around had three very heavily painted women: one with a bandana tied scarf and stray hairs poking out around her bare neck (forbidden), one African looking woman with all purple (colors are frowned upon), and short Capri pants (legs!), and while the third was properly covered, her casual seat on the front steps and her flouncing around in her flowing abaya showed she felt very comfortable around all the many men that overflowed the well-used seats. At first we thought they were prostitutes but then we discovered their plight: they are all women from Dubai on visa runs. We later discovered that one was a Nigerian woman who had been stuck here for a week waiting for her visa and trapped like a prisoner with no money! She told us of someone else who was stuck here for 3 months. They are at the complete mercy of the Dubai government bothering to send them the visa letter fax, and often get stuck with no money and no hopes on this island and more famous Kish Island, both Duty Free ports. They all thought we were insane to be tourists in what they considered a god-forsaken place. It was interesting, if tragic, nevertheless. This is also the first time in a long while that I've had a squatter toilet in my room.

Wow, what a forgotten corner of the world this is! It was touted to be like the gulf was before the oil boom and does seem like it, and we had no idea how large the island was until we got here. 160km of very little except spectacular land formations and wild deserts that must be awfully hot in summer. We sat in our hotel watching the (smuggling) speedboats zip across the harbor contrasting with the newly constructed mosque with half -finished zellij tile decorations going up the 4 minarets, preparing to go to the Portuguese fort here in ancient-but-you-wouldn't-know-it-Ghesm-town.

The stew that is dizi... the mixed vegetables before and after!

We ate a scrumptious local dish for dinner from a little cafe because we couldn't be bothered waiting for the restaurants to open at 8pm. The eating of 'Dizi' is best summed up by the Lonely Planet:

"Getting dizi
Known alternatively as abgusht (or as piti in Azerbaijan, though I never saw it there) dizi is a cheap soup-stew meal named for the earthenware pot in which it's stewed (ours was metal). It's considered by many Iranians as the old of the poor. But assuming you're neither a vegetarian nor obsessive about cholesterol, it's actually a delicious and filling dish. There is, however, an art to eating it. First, drain off the soupy broth into a bowl full of bread that you've previously ripped into bite-sized morsels. Eat this stew the turn to the main ingredients: chickpeas, potatoes, tomatoes, and soft-boiled mutton. Grind these together using a provided metal pestle that looks disturbingly like a stylized toilet plunger. Do include the inevitable chunk of fat; it might look unappetizing but adds to taste and texture. Eat the resulting mush with a spoon or bread."

Day 2

A day to go around the island and see the seven wonders of the gulf. We started off at the dhow yards where we contrasted the wooden ones with the fiberglass ones. It was interesting to see how fiberglass is made. This was the period when Iran was testing nuclear missiles in the Gulf and threatening to close the Straits of Hormuz. We saw many military jets zooming overhead while we criss-crossed the sand piles.

Then we went on to the town of Laft where they are still using the ancient system of air conditioning, the wind towers called bagdirs. It was lovely to see the boats lined up in front of the town as it unfolded down the hill. The mangrove forests were amazing. 9000 square hectares, with dolphins, storks, pelicans, seagulls and other birds. We even prevented our boat driver from pulling a nest out of a particularly old tree.

The view from Khorbas cave.

Valley of the Fallen Stars.

Chah Kuh Valley.

The two geological formations we visited, Chah Kuh Valley and the Valley of Fallen Stars were spectacular. Water erosion has created spectacular winding valleys to walk down and climb up, and we all got as dusty as we could. We finished the day at Khorbas cave which was a couple of houses carved out of the cliff whose tunnels we explored in the dark as the sun had already set.
Day 3

We took a tiny speedboat ferry across to mainland Iran, making bets as to whether they would check our passports (we were thinking of the ladies at the Diplomat Hotel making their escape!). They didn't. No jets or missiles either! We arrived into Bandar Abbas, one of the many bandars (ports) along the coast, and taxied to the little town of Minab, which has a famous Thursday market. Anyone else would think we were crazy to go so far just to see oranges and abayas on sale, but it was a fascinating mix of people, with a snake charmer, toothless old ladies, and an amazing collection of people going about their business.

Day 4

White caps on the sea cancelled our desires to ferry across to see the large fort on Hormuz Island, which we could see in the distance at sunrise and sunset. Instead we lazed in the sun and read.

Persepolis

2011-12-26T23:33:00.025+04:00

Persepolis (built by the Achaemenids circa 518 B.C.) and the Necropolis (series of tombs nearby)

Sacked by Alexander the Great in 330 B.C.

Shiraz Fort

Shiraz is a pretty unexciting city, but not bad, I suppose. Not too cool or hot a this time of year. It has many charming tree lined streets, but apart from a small castle fort filled with sour orange trees (yes, we tried them), does not really have much to distinguish it from any other moderately sized city in Iran. And to those who may have dreamed of it, the famous Shiraz grape that hafiz wrote poems about is, of course, no longer grown here.

Necropolis - Naqsh-e Rostam

Necropolis

Tomb of Cyrus the Great

We started the day at the Necropolis... 4 tombs dug out of the rolling geologist's dream of a limestone mountainside similar to Petra. Beautiful reliefs depicting Persians battle wins against their enemies, and a square tower with connections to the solstices. We headed on to Pasagarde 80 km down the road, to ponder Cyrus the Great's tomb on a windswept plain (and the pillaging of it by his own soldiers, which he was very unhappy about) as well as the palaces and massive unexcavated fort of the complex.

Persepolis

I can now finally say that I have been to Persepolis. I remember feeling jealousy that Baku friends had been and I hadn't but it never seemed to make it onto my itinerary despite two previous visits to Iran. It was not as big as I had thought it would be, but I was imagining it to be similar to Palmyra in Syria or Gerash in Jordan. But these expectations were unfair -- it was a special palaces complex and not a living city; and wow, what a complex it would have been. The pillars of one hall were 23m high, and then a roof on top of that! The reliefs carved into the walls, many unfinished as the carving was interrupted by the invasion of Alexander the Great, are among the most spectacular I have ever seen. Because the Achaemenids were so proud of their multicultural nation, there are depictions of 30 different races along with their offerings to the kings, including lions, sheep, goats, camels, stockings, fabric, and other riches. The layers and layers of soldiers are phenomenal, down to the detail on the sword.

I must say, however, how pissed off I got with the management of the complex. While mum mourned that it was not as natural as when she visited 44 years ago (and they have gone overboard in terms of over-manicuring everything), I was constantly being whistled at by the guards for stepping over ropes in order to take a better photo. They had barricaded almost the entire complex off from public viewing (despite carefully crafted pathways showing it was previously ok to go there), and all of those parts included the best bits of course!

View over Persepolis from the tombs

Tombs behind Persepolis

The two tombs behind the complex had spectacular views and the red and pink late afternoon light on the mountains and archways was wonderful. It was great to see the translated languages and the many lion eating deer carvings (I did wonder why they had so many of the same thing).

The complex was covered in sand until the 1930s, which preserved many riches from both raiders and vandals (which Iranians say that the Arabs all were), and we could imagine the wonders that were there before.

We exited to look at the contrast of the Shah's tent city contrasting with the nomadic tents outside the walls, and went home for dinner. I will say that if I have to eat another plate of chicken kebab and rice, I think I'll go crazy.

Christmas Greetings 2011

2011-12-25T02:18:00.000+04:00

Dear Friends and Family,

As I lie awake exhausted but wide awake from jet lag, I'm reflecting on my year: another truly amazing one, filled with the upheaval of moving and the joys of friendships and travel! I didn't manage a Christmas letter last year, but had a great 2010 with trips to places like Samoa, Kurdistan in Iraq, and Alaska. Spectacular!

Cape Town's Table Mountain

White Sharks!

Penguins on the Cape of Good Hope Peninsula

I started 2011 in Cape Town, South Africa, where I was with my family to share in the celebration of my cousin Cherie's wedding. Had an amazing trip down the Cape of Good Hope peninsula, went out diving with the sharks, and joined a fantastic safari in Hluhluwe-Imflozi National Park (left), where I managed to catch a glimpse of the big 5.

Aside from small trips to the UAE to visit my parents (we had a great trip to the Musandam Peninsula in Oman one weekend), and to the UK for a job fair, the highlights of the first term included trips with friends to amazing Georgia and around picturesque northern Azerbaijan. Georgia, still possibly one of my favorite countries in the world with its warm, welcoming people, glorious good (which I miss considerably), and spectacular scenery, brushed with resilience through hardship.

Marquands on Musandam

Beautiful Tbilisi, Georgia

Azerbaijan near Xinaliq

For the Azeri new year (Novruz), I jetted down to Tanzania (via Dubai, of course!), and caught up with friends in Dar Es Salaam. While not quite fulfilling the dream of climbing Kilimanjaro, I spent a hot few days in Zanzibar diving and catching some sun, while taking many photos of Stonetown.

Stonetown, Zanzibar, Tanzania

My summer was spent visiting friends across North America and I delighted in Canadian cottages, Michigan sand dunes and beaches, VA dinners, DC museums, and even a Dave Matthews concert. I am truly astonished at the number of American foundations that are solely in existence to offer up fantastic lesson plans, courses, and general support for teachers. There was even one offering a free summer course (all you had to pay was transport and they covered room, board and training, and it was great training, too!). Thus I spent a week in Williamsburg, VA with the Foundation for Teaching Economics. If you had told me 5 years ago that I would be teaching Economics, I would have laughed at you, but I find that I love it.

After 3 fantastic years in Azerbaijan, I decided to embark on a new journey, and after pondering many places (thanks for all your tips and advice!), I chose Bogota, Colombia, where I’m working at the Colegio Anglo Colombiano, a bi-lingual school for Colombians. However, before I started, I decided to get my Spanish from non-existent to very basics at a Spanish language school in Antigua, Guatemala. What a gorgeous town it is! There I also visited the Lago de Atitlan and climbed a very active volcano!

Volcanoes from Antigua

Ancient Antigua, Guatemala

Lago de Atitlan

In August I moved to my new country where there are amazing new and old teachers whom I have loved getting to know and share the journey of a new place with. I have rediscovered salsa dancing, and enjoyed the new forms of dance and music like reggaeton, samba, rumba, merengue, etc. I still miss my rock bands in Baku with golden oldies and more, but particularly love the Cuban music in the lovely old suburb of Usaquen.

Colegio Anglo Colombiano

I went to the coastal city of Santa Marta (Taganga, left) in October to enjoy beach time with friends where I was introduced to ceviche (a delicious prawn salad mix) and completed my Advanced Open Water -- can't believe I didn't do it years ago - it was easy! I look forward to exploring the diving of the Galapagos, San Andreas, and Gorgona in the near future with whales in migration and other exciting things.

Taganga near Santa Marta

In October Andre got married and I had the wonderful honor of taking the photos. It took place in a romantic Dulwich, London setting. Immediately upon return, I took a group of students to the Colombian Amazon (pics, left). They were an amazing group of students, mostly girls by chance, and we did some fantastic things. I slept in the jungle in an ingenious hammock with mosquito net, rappelled up trees, went hunting for crocodiles and anacondas, saw the pink dolphins, tarantulas capybaras, blue parrots, monkeys, and generally had an amazing time. I think my favorite thing was the bird song in the jungle!

I have arrived into Dubai where I will spend Xmas with my parents and we will jet off to ancient Persepolis and Ghesm Island in Iran. I’m also really looking forward to visiting my old friends in Baku for a week in January as well.

I continue to be inspired by friends across the world's journeys and joie de vivre. Your lust for life is magical! My 2 Jos in Iraq, Graydon and Tamara's multiple bike rides across the world, Cara's marathons, Kate’s, Nick’s and Mum's art. I have also loved seeing other friends move to new places and experiencing the joys of travel. Other friends have had babies and families and it is a gift to watch these new lives emerge on such a fantastic tool as Facebook. I recently swapped over to the FB ‘timeline’ and it was wonderful to be able to go back in time and see all the memories and people that make life worth it!

May you all have Happy Holidays and best wishes for a fantastic 2012 where your dreams come true!
xxoo Natalya

Desert Trip to Omani enclave

2011-12-24T23:29:00.000+04:00

The desert in Oman is spectacularly beautiful. It is harsh and unyielding, yet in this season picturesque, full of colors and hues and simplicity.

We went on a safari of sorts, 8 cars of Historical Society families from all walks of life. We started at a bat cave after going off road. The one lonely bat flew out in disgust at our disruption of his sleep.

We also saw multiple sand dunes including 'big red'. Driving in the sand is deceptively difficult. The worst place (for embarrassment as well as for towing) is actually on the flat. You cannot lower your revs and it's as slidy as a snowstorm. Walking in sand is not so much fun either. We marveled at the slate mountains and the majestic dunes and wildness.

We picnicked under some Ghaf trees and a hungry camel smelled our gorgeous lunch and wandered over to sample some, so we fed it some leftovers... She even wanted to eat the plate. She stole a cardboard one from the back of someone's open car on her grumbly way out.

We got home well after nightfall while others camped in the desert to stargaze.

Dubai Terminal 2

2011-04-10T19:45:00.002+05:00

I'm reading this book at the moment and it's a fascinating look into a journalist's lifestyle. In the very beginning, she is reflecting about travelling constantly and I thought this passage was particularly pertinent considering I was taking off from Terminal 2 in Dubai! Apologies because the excerpt is a bit long.

"Why do it?

I could tell you that it’s a search for truth. I could tell you that when I was a child I loved to read the poems of Robert Louis Stevenson and turn the sheets hanging on the washing like into doors on to faraway places. I could tell you that I felt suffocated by suburbia. I could tell you that I adored Hemmingway and wanted to run with the bulls in Spain, watch big game among the green hills of Africa (though not hunt it), drink mojitos in bars in old Havana and find love behind the lines. I could tell you that once you see others die and evils such as boys turned into killing machines with AK-47s, or families forced to bury stick-limbed girls because they could not afford HIV drugs, one’s own life becomes pretty insignificant.

I could tell you that there is nothing more thrilling than getting on a plane to somewhere you have never been, particularly with a name like Bujumbura or Cochabamba. That used to be true but these days endless security queues have spoiled the magic of airports.

Maybe the truth lies in Dubai Terminal 2. That’s where you go to catch planes to the bad places. The destination board reads Kabul, Baghdad, Mogadishu, and the airlines have names you’ve never even heard of like Chelyabinsk Airlines, Don Airlines, Kam Air, Ossetia, Mahan Air, and Samara Airlines. These are airlines so dodgy that they are not allowed to land at the proper airport. Many, like Arian Afghan Airlines or Reem Air of Kyrgyzstan, are on a list banning them from European airspace and describing them as ‘flying coffins’. Their planes are sold Tupolevs bought second or third hand from Aeroflot or Air India.

The name, Terminal 2, makes it sound as if it is attached to the main airport, but in fact it lies a half-hour’s taxi ride away. It seems in another country entirely to that gleaming glass temple to capitalism where Arabs in white dishdash and sunburnt passengers in shorts and miniskirts shop for Rolex watches and Fendi handbags and buy $100 lottery tickets to win a Jaguar X-type.

At Terminal 2 there is just one shop and people stock up on Mars Bars, tampons and biscuits, for they don’t know what will be available at the other end. Mostly, they are bounty hunters, Afghan moneychangers, aid workers, private security guards and journalists. Instead of smart shiny suitcases they have battered kitbags and rucksacks, black plastic crates of survival equipment, or, in the case of the Afghans large cloth bundles. The ones with briefcases are consultants, being paid thousands of dollars for something called ‘capacity building’, but they will get on a special United Nations plane. Sometimes there are dead bodies being flown back from comfortable exile to be buried in harsh homelands.

Most people have grimly resigned expressions, particularly if like me they are flying Ariana. For the airlines of Terminal 2 departure times mean nothing and it is common to turn up day after day before a plane finally arrives. Besides we all know that the Ariana pilots prefer staying in Dubai to piloting their ‘coffins’back to a destroyed country. We debate with those holding Kam tickets whether it’s safter to fly with an airline that has already crashed or one that always seems about to crash. Passengers that make a fuss and try to find non-existent airline representatives are exposed as newcomers.

Some might be committed do-gooders; others are only doing it for money. ‘George Bush has paid off thousands of mortgages,’ says a Scottish ex-para on his way to be a $1,000-a-day security consultant in Afghanistan after a long stint in Iraq.

But there are a few that have a look on their face that I recognize. It’s a sort of suburban restlessness. Not in a grass-is-always-greener kind of way: but a search for adventure.

Those are the people whose eyes light up when they see the name Kish appear on the destination board. Where is that? Kish Island in Iran, someone tells me. It sounds intriguing. I know I will try to go there. It will mean flying Kish Air which last crashed two years ago.

Biographers of Alexander the Great used the Greek word pothos to describe his endless yearning to be somewhere else, whether it was to cross the Danube, go to the oracle of Ammon, sail the ocean, see the Persian Gulf or untie the legendary knot at Gordium.

I liked that description. But then I read that the longing for something unattainable expressed by pothos could also signify a desire to die. For pothos is also the name for delphiniums, the flowers that Greeks traditionally placed on someone’s tomb.

I never set out to be brave or daring or intrepid or any of those labels often attached to the title, ‘war correspondent’. What I wanted to be is a storyteller. I have been lucky enough to live in countries in Asia, Latin America, Africa, the Middle East and Europe at a time of huge upheaval when the world was adjusting from the cold war to a whole new war of terrorist attacks and suicide bombs.

To me the real story in war is not the bang-bang but the lives of those trying to survive behind the lines.

-Excerpt from the Prologue pp3-5 of ‘Small Wars Permitting: Dispatches from Foreign Lands’ by Christina Lamb ©2008, Harper Press, Harper Collins, London.

Image from Terminal 2 Dubai checkout board.

Image from Sharjah Airport, December 2012, with similarly obscure destinations.

Iraq travel article for AZ Magazine

2011-01-29T20:15:00.002+04:00

Typically, a break from work is supposed to be a holiday away from all problems and troubles. You can imagine my acquaintances’ surprise when I told them that I was spending my time off in Iraq! Perhaps I over-exaggerated the notoriety, because in fact, I spent it in Erbil in Iraqi Kurdistan, and they are certainly not quite the same thing. Iraq is dangerous and terror ridden, frequently making the news for suicide bombings and violence. Erbil, also known as Arbil or Hawler in Kurdish, is (mostly) safe and secure. No visa is required for many nationals (although this only allows a visit to Iraqi Kurdistan and cannot be used to go into the rest of Iraq), and airlines such as Lufthansa and Austrian Airlines fly there. It is practically normal!

Nestled at the top of Iraq, just on the other side of Iran from Azerbaijan, Iraqi Kurdistan is just one small part of Greater Kurdistan, which encompasses territory in Syria, Turkey and Iran as well as Iraq. Iraqi Kurdistan is home to a mixed group of people: Kurds, Turkomen, Arabs, Christians, Muslims (both Sunni and Shiite), among others, and has been a frequent scene for tension. Skirting the infamous Arab city of Mosul and negotiating for control of oil-rich Kirkuk, the Kurdish Autonomous Region remains a powerful element to modern Iraq. Turkey has been a recent investor, tending to support Turkomen businesses, while returning from exile, Kurds are bringing money and business ideas to aid in the establishment of a strong region.

As I boarded my flight in Dubai’s terminal 2 (quite a familiar spot considering FlyDubai’s other destination of Baku!), I noticed that I was one of only 3 or 4 women on the flight. Most other passengers were businessmen going to the Trade Expo in Erbil. But why Erbil? Erbil has a magnificent old citadel, now a UNESCO World Heritage site built on layers of archaeological remains dating back to the 6^th Century BC, allowing it to lay claim to being one of the oldest continuously inhabited places on earth, akin to Damascus or Cairo.

Wandering the citadel (which requires special permission due to the derelict nature and potential collapse of most buildings) is like entering a ghost town. While as recently as 5 years ago, this was a vibrant living museum, a government decree moved all residents to other residential complexes elsewhere in the city (where no, doubt they were glad of the extra space, running water, improved repair of buildings, and of no longer having neighbors literally on the other side of the wall or below their floor -- remodeling with mud-brick does leave a little to be desired!). As tragic as it is to lose the live heritage of living in such an ancient city, the restored city will provide a draw for tourists and other visitors to the city. Currently, however, there is an air of decay – if I blink I can convert the charming, deserted courtyard centered by an ancient olive tree into a lively display of ladies gossiping and laughing over their dinner while a child or two or four runs from room to room or up the narrow steps. Each courtyard is unique and they vary enormously in size, shape, wealth, community feeling and functionality. Even the traditional Kurdish clothing worn by men seems very comfortable – a wide sash-like belt over loose khaki trousers: formal and yet unique.

The old city was originally divided into three districts (mahallas): the Serai for notable families maintains its dignity with large homes and grand two floored courtyards elaborately decorated with paint motifs and wooden carvings. One such home has been converted into the Erbil Carpet Museum, a charming collection of rugs, kilims, sumaqs and other woolen products similar to those found in the stalls near Baku’s Maiden’s Tower. The Takya area was the home of the dervishes, a mystical Sufi ascetic sect, and the Topkhana was for craftsmen, farmers and other families. The Topkhana has left us with narrow winding alleyways with small doorways leading to an intimate world within, also with beautiful designs on buildings and the occasional glance over the highly-coveted outer wall balcony. Views from the tops of buildings show layers upon layers of mud-brick rooftops and homes, with small trees peeking through occasionally, with the Mulla Afandi mosque (the only religious structure surviving in the old citadel), a centerpiece seen from all areas of the citadel.

Beneath the ochre citadel walls lies the Qaysari Bazaar, a maze of alleys with ancient shoe-makers, wooden cradle carpenter shops and other crafts and wares. While not a prime spot for purchasing tourist wares (which are a rarity in Kurdistan), the photo opportunities are excellent! Further afield is the incomplete Mudhafaria Minaret. Evoking faint vestiges of turquoise tiles and complex geometric designs found across Iran and Central Asia, this minaret is a bit out of place surrounded by a city park which includes a gondola and fake rock art exhibit hall!

Whether picturing the battles between Alexander the Great and Darius III of Persia that raged in nearby plains, or when Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, Ottomans, and Sumerians wove their tapestry of layers over this ancient fortified mound, there is no doubt about the history that is imbedded throughout Erbil. What must each ruler have been thinking? I’m sure they didn’t think that it would remain inhabited for millennia, and that in 2010, it would be surrounded by a prosperous new city booming with new investment and businesses of Kurds returning home. New mosques are being funded by Saudi Arabia and Turkey, and the vibe of success is at a high.

Iraqi Kurdistan is a comparatively safe part of Iraq. Despite a small car-bomb that went off the week following my visit, it was only a minor hiccup in the overall safety of the area. How does it stay safe? The Kurdish government militia and independent army maintain multiple strict road blocks entering and leaving all towns and cities of the region. Why should they have their own army? Unfortunately, Saddam Hussein was responsible for perpetrating many terrors against Kurds specifically, and most Kurds feel safer being policed by their own military force. You may remember hearing about the Halabja poisonous gas attack where around 5000 people were murdered (and around 10,000 injured) by chemical weapons on March 16, 1988 as part of a genocidal attack against the Kurds by Hussein’s regime. This is just one example of the horrors attributed to the Anfal genocide campaign. Kurdish history is, of course, more complex than this, with the establishment of a separate region occurring in 1970 and several uprisings and many forced and unforced exodus of the population occurring since.

Around Erbil, and for much of Kurdistan, scenic mountains, very similar to those of the Caucasus Mountains north of Baku, with picturesque villages, green spring valleys, waterfalls, and dammed lakes provide a respite for all of Iraq from the hot, dry desert plains. Lake Dukan, a reservoir created by a hydro-electric dam, is a popular vacation spot and cabins and tourist facilities cannot be built fast enough to cater to the demand. It lies on the picturesque mountain route from Erbil to Sulaymaniyah, which winds over hills and passes with spectacular viewpoints all along the route.

While Erbil is flat urban sprawl with wide ring-roads and new factories, Sulaymaniah is an older city with a vibe catering to decades past. Three hours drive from Erbil, the traffic is abominable, but the energy is exciting. Built over valleys at the foot of various mountain ranges, Sulaymaniyah, colloquially known as ‘Slemani’ is also showing signs of economic prosperity and revival with new businesses and opportunities. The downtown market has a vibrant mix of produce that cater not just to visitors, but also to locals purchasing their necessities. On a more sober note, aside from the two small museums, Sulaymanieyah is also the site of Sadam Hussein’s notorious ‘Red Security’ Amna Suraka torture prison, which operated as a facility for torture and death for thousands of Kurds under Saddam Hussein. It is ridden with bullet holes and left as a museum and monument to the horrors committed there. I was quite surprised when my taxi driver had never been, but he thought it important to visit to bear witness.

On the drive back to Erbil over the rolling dry hills, the traditional nomadic tents were still being used (much to my taxi driver’s horror at having no plumbing facilities!), the shepherds were still tending their flocks, and the road blocks were as strict as ever.

While I’m not really hoping to convince any of you to book your tickets, I do hope you will now know a little more about this forgotten corner of the world, that is not just about war and bombs and devastation, but about new developments and families being able to return to their homeland. Travel information is very scarce. Hotels tend to cater to the higher level markets. Budget accommodation does not exist. Even finding a place to eat without simply stumbling upon it in Ainkawa (the Christian suburb) is difficult, although we all felt amused to see ‘Costa (Rica) Coffee’ a spoof on the large Costa Coffee chain found around the Middle East. This is an emerging destination - we even had the local expat fare of Quiz night on Monday! However, this region is changing and will emerge into a regional center. Direct flights to Tbilisi are planned for 2011, and other cities throughout the region are aiming to connect, both for business, and for the odd curious visitor such as myself, to explore. Two new international schools have opened in Erbil, and the promise of growth and change is palpable. Whether it is to explore renovated hilltop forts and castles, examine ancient relics and cities in-loci, get a view of the spectacular mud-brick mountain villages hidden away far from urban civilization, this is a place worth visiting.

Three interesting trips by other travelers:

http://joestrippin.blogspot.com/2009/04/iraq-kurdistan-region.html

http://jennifersblog85.blogspot.com/2010/11/iraq-part-v-sulaymaniyah-halabja.html
http://silkroadride.blogspot.com/2009/10/into-mesopotamian-lowlands.html

Recently, this article was published in Az-magazine in Baku. You can visit the magazine website at www.az-magazine.com. It was pages 44-47 in the Janaury 2011 edition.

What do I love about Alaska?

2010-07-07T11:47:00.000+05:00

That the weather changes dramatically.
The deep dark colors – greens in the trees, greys in the clouds, blues/grays/greens in the oceans.
Spongy ground
Wildlife: bears, whales, seals, eagles, etc, etc
Being outdoors and doing active things
Yummy hearty food and seafood
Long hours of daylight
Quirky small towns where doors are left unlocked and people are friendly
Ferries that offer free showers, and conveniences like towels, blankets, pillows, mattresses and a solarium to put up your tent!
Ocean inlets and islands
Glaciers!

But the ultimate best thing about Alaska?

· Picking wild salmon berries and blueberries everywhere I walk

Even better?

· Putting a wild blueberry inside a wild salmon berry and eating! Yum!!!

Virgin Mobile

2010-07-07T11:37:00.000+05:00

Alaska is beautiful and pretty, and I would love to call my friends and family to tell them all about it. This is why I just bought a minute plan and got the most expensive internet data package possible – all connected in less than an hour in Seattle airport… except Virgin Mobile (my US phone) has no coverage at all in Alaska. What kind of ridiculous company neglects an entire state?

Vancouver & Vancouver Island, Canada

2010-07-07T11:31:00.000+05:00

Getting to Alaska is a bit of a pain. I tried to stop off in Iceland, but that would cut into my Alaska time. It turned out, that the best way to get to Alaska (and be able to do the Inside Passage), was to fly to Vancouver. I booked my ticket on Sunday, to fly on Monday (a tricky thing to explain to customs in Canada!).

I spent the night in Vancouver in the central YHA hostel, and had a glorious jog around the peninsula early Tuesday morning. Vancouver really is a great city – the psyche all along the West Coast reminds me of New Zealand. It was great to see all the cyclists, especially. Someone in a shop on Vancouver Island said that while Australia is like the US, New Zealand is like Canada. I thought it was an interesting comparison. I suppose, Australia is certainly more state-based and conservative in some ways, and there’s always the little brother complex that both Canada and New Zealand have.

I am always fascinated by the homeless people I see in Canada and the US -- this guy had a teddy bear that he was carrying. How can this happen in a functional society? Would it ever happen in New Zealand?

The other thing that absolutely shocked me were the bunnies on the University of Victoria campus -- they were everywhere. They are considered too cute to be removed and culled and animal rights advocates go nuts when anyone tries. I keep saying that they need a rabbit eating culture like Britain to ensure they all disappear. It's ridiculous because cats are kept inside, dogs are kept on a leash and so they have gone crazy without any predators.

Anyway, I visited Carole on Vancouver Island and she took me around Victoria – a beautiful city. See below for pictures of the harbor and the totems outside the fantastic museum. We also had a lovely lunch outdoors with atmospheric ivy leaves around us. The last picture is of the beaches with their amazing logs -- Carole said it's illegal to take wood from a beach now, but they were so large and there were so many of them, I was quite surprised.

To Pack or Wheel?

2010-07-02T23:28:00.001+05:00

I had two questions as I packed for Alaska the night before my departure. Do I take a pack or a wheeling suitcase, and should I take my hiking boots? As it was last night drinks and of course the world cup match, I was out with friends and asked their opinion. They said take a pack and don’t take hiking boots and unfortunately, I now disagree with both!! A temperate rain forest means wet and mud, and soaking feet yesterday means that I wished I had my hiking boots (though I do agree they are heavy).

As for the pack, this caused me more turmoil. The last time I used my pack, I was still at university. It’s a fabulous pack and it was all part of the traveler I was then. However, I have had a wheeling suitcase ever since, and never thought to go back. There are certain places that require it, like India and Africa where walking and travelling is rougher, but did I really need it for Alaska? It is true I was a backpacker, and I had my yoga mat/bed roll and sleeping bag. I stopped short of the tent that would have completed the image, but I was definitely the sort of person who would normally have a pack.

So I packed my gear into my pack. I picked it up, groaned at its weight (I tend to overpack), cursed, swore, bitched, moaned and groaned to myself, ‘Do I really want to be heaving this everywhere for the next month?’ I thought about it some more, then decided to unpack it all and put it into a suitcase (it’s 2am by this point and my airport pickup was coming at 4). I went to sleep and tossed and turned (for all of an the hour that it was). All sorts of self-challenging questions arose. Was I still able to be a true backpacker or had I gotten soft? Was I too old to be a backpacker? I remembered the time in Pakistan when the hostel owner told me he expected me to leave because I wasn’t the right “type” for a hostel. I thought about whether having a wheeling suitcase was the lazy option. But then I remembered that that particular suitcase had a broken handle so would need repacking anyway. I decided it must be fate and repacked it back into the pack, cursing more all the while.

So how long did I last with a pack? 3 days. I went to Walmart on Vancouver Island and bought a wheeling suitcase that fit the pack and all else. Pathetic isn’t it!? However, when I am riding ferries that have elevators/lifts and everywhere I am going has nice concrete footpaths and taxis if I wish them, I will enjoy my wheels and save the pack for India and the tropics and another trip.

Travelling again!

2010-06-30T23:22:00.000+05:00

I am off again on my annual summer pilgrimage to rack up the miles and check off the places from my most-want-to-see list. This summer, I’m off to Alaska, via Vancouver. So many people seem amazed that I’m going to Alaska, which surprises me. It’s supposed to be beautiful and spectacular, and is that not enough? I have yet to discover if it really is off the beaten path.

The irony is that I wasn’t really going to see the scenery. I decided earlier on this year that I wanted my summer to be an active one, and was dreaming of doing some dance classes. I eliminated the flamenco in Spain and decided I wanted to do some art courses at the same time. A search of the internet yielded only one option (that wasn’t for kids or for professionals): the Fairbanks Summer Arts Festival. It’s really quite bizarre that I’m going all the way around the world to do courses that I could theoretically do anywhere, but this was where the options were.

My lineup of courses (and the irony continues!): Highland Dance, Middle Eastern Dance, Swing, Tai Chi, Ballroom, and the art course, Surface Design. I’m not even doing the Alaskan drumming class because it clashed with some others I wanted to do. I am doing nothing Alaskan! But I am excited.

Considering that I was visiting Alaska I figured I’d better actually see something of Alaska as well, so I’m also going to ferry hop up the Inside Passage and take the train past Denali. Thanks to Greg for his fabulous advice.

Enjoy these lovely pictures of Frankfurt’s airport – interesting lines!

Nakchivan

2010-05-30T15:31:00.101+05:00

Last weekend, Jo and I took at trip to Azerbaijan's exclave, Nakchivan. It's supposed to be the cultural heart of the country and has a very ancient feel -- much like Iran just across the border. Very interesting!!

Because it's one of the only destinations going out of Baku's domestic terminal, the airport had a bus station feeling. We had to go up two flights of stairs with our suitcases, and there was even a ticket booth like in a bus or tram station. You can't buy your return journey until you get there! It certainly gives the illusion of being cut off instead of connected! Jo and I commented on the bizarre feeling -- two guys were racing remote control cars and boxes and boxes of goods were there, with one guy even flying with car parts. The flights are subsidized for nationals of course (and exorbitant for expats), and there is no land route there except through Iran. Our boarding pass said 12.50 but that's the "old time" (I wonder when Nakchivan was ever on that time -- the Ottoman Empire perhaps?) but we were leaving at 9. The cafe had friendlier people, and we noted the irony of there being no milk for my tea, but yet other customers had received a full omlette complete with pan. They loved the fact that my name was Natalya, and I believe I remember hearing someone saying 'Take off your clothes': before you get excited, they were talking about my jacket.

We arrived and took a taxi straight from the airport via Jolfa and the Aza bridge to the southernmost village of Ordubad -- what a great town! While it was once on the main road to Nagorno-Karabakh, it is now a sleepy place at the very end of the road. Jammed in the bottom triangle of Nakchivan, squeezed between a non-bridged river border with Iran, and hostile Armenia, it is a quaint forgotten sort of place. It had lovely crumbling mud brick walls and restored mosques. It had a lovely old square with a teashop under a giant cinar tree. The madrasa was being renovated and there was a cool bridge house under repair. Through narrow streets where the taxi driver, Shamil, would simply stop and sigh with exasperation when a car would happen by and need to get past. Jo found it amusing when Shamil was directing me to a better picture on the other side of the Aza bridge where there ended up being a garish yellow pipeline, ubiquitous to Azerbaijan to ruin the picture.

Stopping for lunch at a little place on the side of the road on the way back, we enjoyed our salads (and for me, kebabs) right above a dammed reservoir full of the most interesting fish, lizards and floating snakes. It was quite astonishing, in fact, to see 3 yellow snakes, a turtle, multiple ducks, and a cat all sharing the same space as the fish!

To Naxcivan city, where we negotiated being able to stay in the hotel of our choice (and not Shamil's), we wandered to the famous mausoleum just before it closed and huge storm rolled in. It was quite an exciting storm, but alas, we had no jackets. Tea (again), and I eat the whole bowl of sweets as it's already 6pm! We then wandered through the melted mud citadel collecting tile fragments (probably modern), scampering down banks and gawping at modern reconstructions of mud-brick (quite amazing actually, that they are not making them out of concrete). I was most fascinated that there was a mud-brick fort exactly like Merv (Mary) in Turkmenistan. Past closed Imamzade (over renovated!) to town, we felt quite accomplished for our first day. A Turkish dinner and ghastly green restaurant in the hotel for drinks (yucky decor and wine, price, etc).

We had arranged to meet at 9.15 through unlucky translator son Ali. After two museums we only sort of wanted to see (but Shamil wanted to show us) -- one was Heydar Aliyev's, and another was a more interesting carpet museum. We debated about what famous people's museums should have -- their breakfast food, favorite TV programs, a look at the inside of the house -- but these were not present in Heydar Aliyev's museum. To the ticket office to buy our flight back (and for Shamil to collect a secret package), finally we were on the way to where we actually wanted to go!

The mountains were high and spectacularly snow-capped, and we drove up into the passes where there are the famed islands within lakes that move location. We drove to Qarabaglar, a charming little village with the best Islamic structure I've seen in ages. Quaint homes and rusticly left-alone. Batabat -- not even a town, it turns out, is just lakes up a mountain pass. Spectacular scenery, but disappointing to have no village. We had a lovely little picnic ala Shamil under the cautious eyes of the army post above us (who were no doubt amused by us going to the toilet on the side of the road). Tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese and lavash. Yum!

He then took us to his home past stones holding house roofs down, poppy fields, rivers, bridges, cliffs. We had tea with his wife and family and then tea again at the airport (this is after tea on the side of the road as well). We were the only women at the airport drinking tea, but the best part was the plane ride. Wow! What a jump back in history. It was a 1970s plane with an ashtray and sharp pointy things on the tray table, which was also extra high. However, the seats were more padded, and there was actually leg room, even if the seats did fall down like dominoes because there was no such thing as a recline! There was the oldest life jacket I've ever seen (thank goodness we weren't going over water). The window shutter is down because the window is cracked. It's also very hot! The toilet is retro complete with paisley walls and a wooden seat. No water! They moved our seat 'more up' to Business Class, but all the other rich people were late (in their own time). We were shocked to see a stretcher appear outside the window (contemplating the ghastly thought of an air-evacuation from here!). The stretcher went up the stairs, then down them, then up again as they tried to find a part of the airplane to accommodate this awkward passenger. We were barred from going backward, eventually, as he was given the middle part of the plane.

More photos at this link:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=437032&id=668335330&l=6fa70d45ad

If you are interested in how another traveller found it, check out this link:
http://joestrippin.blogspot.com/2009/04/naxchivan.html

My archway

2010-05-09T19:00:00.001+05:00

This, my friends, is the archway of my courtyard... this hole now has concrete, but the other two (at extreme left and right) do not. That big wet pile of rubbish smells as disgusting as it looks, and those bins are usually overflowing everywhere. I'm pretty sure it doesn't meet BP safety standards, but the bonus is that while this construction is going on, there are no cars in the courtyard. The clean-it-up scheme for Nizami doesn't usually include courtyards, so I'm wondering how it will look, and how far the tiles will go in when it's all done!

Building... gone!!

2010-05-09T18:51:00.005+05:00

One day I was walking home and the building I used to buy eggs from, and watch the cat sleep under the mannequins in the long corridor, was gone. I had bought a coat, and other clothes there, and the whole building was demolished, just like that. You can see the pile of rubble that was left behind above.

Now it's a huge construction site, usually completely blocked off from public eyes, but I managed to sneak in the other day and see what's happening. It means that the street that was almost finished with construction, Nizami, will now be blocked off for at least a couple of years.

I wonder how much warning the residents had? There was another building on the boulevard in front of the Maiden's Tower that went down in the same time frame. Apparently there was some dissent about removing it, so it was declared "unstable" yet the turn of the century walls were so thick they had trouble removing them. It's now a nice square of grass, in case anyone was wondering. Prime real estate for you!!

Baku Construction

2010-05-08T18:13:00.000+05:00

Baku has been a construction site since at least September last year. I just thought I'd share some photos so you can get an idea of how bad it is!!

Samoa

2010-03-23T20:40:00.000+04:00

23 March 2010

I’ve arrived in Samoa!! This is country number 67 – and my first small Pacific island. I remember when I was little and watching the commonwealth games, I remember thinking that the Samoans and the Tongans and the Fijians were so different from us. They were the epitome of foreignness. It’s funny and ironic, but arriving in Samoa is the complete opposite. I feel like I’ve come to as close to a tropical home as I could have. I think it must be because I am finally on a Polynesian tropical island, and Polynesia is home. I’ve seen other tropical paradises, so much so that I feel at home in the tropics, but I have always felt them to be more foreign than this one. Make no mistake, I am not home, this is still a foreign country, but it has familiarity. Perhaps once I’ve been here a while, I’ll change my mind, but the faces and the looks of the people are lovely.

There are slatted glass windows of the 80s in every home, but no mosquito nets. Everything is open. I even saw a lady’s breasts through her open windows as she got changed to lie down on the mat on the floor! There are lovely open fales where just the pillars of the sides exist and roofs (no walls), and everyone sits communally and shares the breeze then lies down to sleep right there.

It’s really quite funny to see all the pigs walking around. Dogs are everywhere too, but there is something different to have this huge snorting beast wandering past. Pork is probably the most important food here – though expensive too. Big feasts require killing an entire beast, of course!

We got a flat tire on the way home from the airport, and since they certainly aren’t wasting electricity here, one would think it would be a scary situation, but when everyone’s homes are communal and open to the public, it doesn’t seem possible. I wasn’t being taken to some crazy place to disappear forever. They are too nice and too small town and too local. There must be crime, but perhaps not in the same way that we have? Am I being naïve?

I’m sleeping in an open fale where I hope I don’t roast (it's very hot here), and tomorrow I will have a lovely tropical fruit breakfast and wander around town. I hope I get to dive and swim and relax and get my paper done. I will discover what Guadalcanal really is because I mentioned it being here, but it isn't. Because the reef disappears into the deepest of oceans just off the coast, the color of the sea in Samoa is very dark! What spectacular ocean, though. My freckles have come out! It must be something about the southern sun.

I took the bus out to the coast, and what a fun experience! Even though we spent an hour waiting for it to depart, it was a prime example of the wetness of humanity (sticky bodies leaning in above boxes of leaking produce, bread, etc. There was a complex order of sitting, foreigners and women and elderly were first, but I didn’t need to worry about it because they just told me where to go.

Some of my interesting conversation: The top 5 questions I was asked: Where are you from? (NZ – a common answer here) What do you do? How long in Samoa? Why Samoa? Have you been to Savai’i? The beach? The mountains? Are you married? (No) What? Why not? Do you want to meet a Samoan man? (Perhaps I do -- They do all the cooking!) Actually, I probably don't as everything is shared with the entire family, so one income is everyone's.

Samoans are happy in their own skin and have lovely wide smiles. They seem content with life, even if life isn’t so easy for them sometimes.

Photos here:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=412105&id=668335330&l=20be0585f2

Video to family and friends

2010-01-23T17:50:00.000+04:00

So I finally finished my Christmas video! What a saga. A month of back and forth with so many roadblocks. There are lots of problems with it, but it's been a learning experience. Basically, I decided that instead of regaling my friends and family with copious travel stories (as there are many!) I would make a video of my photos to send. It is rather amateur and dorky, the sound quality is quite poor because I have a crappy microphone, and I have all sorts of other issues with it, not to mention my own voice sounding hideous!

Next time I will ensure that the picture size is reduced before I add it to the film -- it made for a huge (200MB) file. Because it was over 10 mins (It's 12 mins long and that's with very rapid image changes) YouTube wouldn't take it (although it took about 100 upload attempts to discover this). Then there was the fact that due to music copyrights I had to change some of the songs (but, of course, it doesn't tell you which one, so I changed all before I discovered it was the last one - Murphy's Law). Who knew that Alice Cooper's 'School's Out for Summer' would be so strict when it's so appropriate? I still have my doubts about the Frank Sinatra and Nickleback ones as well, but at least it now plays, which is more than it did before.

So, if you would like to view my slideshow movie, I had to break it into two parts on you tube (and I do find it amusing that many of my friends and family have chosen to watch only the first part -- I have stats to check!).

Part 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJLV1rUpspA
Part 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9cwHnjODYM

If you’re on facebook, you’ll also find it here:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=374696&id=668335330&saved#/video/video.php?v=419981490330&ref=mf

2010-01-07T15:06:00.001+04:00

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_songs_banned_by_the_BBC

Found this interesting website in my notes! How times have changed -- what people found sensitive would now be common conversation. I wonder if they bother to ban any songs in this day and age, but I'm sure they think about it!!

Some interesting examples:

Lou Reed's 'Walk on the Wild Side' was banned because of "giving head"
The Smoke's 'My Friend Jack' for "eats sugar lumps".
Billie Holiday's song 'Gloomy Sunday' was about suicide, so it was banned in 1941
The Sex Pistol's 'God Save the Queen' in 1977, because BBC has to be patriotic!
John Lennon's 'Imagine' was banned during the Gulf War

Just an interesting selection!! :) Even songs about banning songs like the Beverly Sisters 'We Have to Be so Careful' of the 1950s and Norman Long's 'We Can't Let You Broadcast That' in 1932.

Cancer

2010-01-05T23:10:00.000+04:00

Have had connections to two people with cancer this month that have really given me food for thought -- I just want to send my best wishes out to them -- Katie's fight is my yoga teacher's friend (see website link http://katiesfight.blogspot.com/), and then there's my cousin Lana in NZ... my thoughts are with you both. xxoo

I'm alive

2009-09-15T23:49:00.002+05:00

Well, this is absolutely appalling -- I haven't posted anything travel related for almost 6 months. I guess that's because I've been so busy... travelling.

I'm aiming to get caught up on this. It's just a matter of how much time it will take me. I am also aiming on working on my webpage as well, but haven't gotten there either. The fact is that my picture quota on my blog has almost run out and it didn't seem worth it to post without pictures (or I couldn't be bothered adjusting)! I will just have to reduce the images! Will try and get Iran, Greece, Cyprus, Brunei, NZ, the USA and camping in Azerbaijan up soon! Whew!

Am back at work in Baku, Azerbaijan, and we're well into our second month of the school year. So far, life has been pretty uneventful -- some small trips out of the country, planning for the term, doing my Master's Courses (am doing a really exciting one on Archaeology in SEAsia and the Pacific which is great). I am teaching English, Humanities, Economics and Art this year, so can that be my busyness excuse? Am also in process of trying to buy a car. Things are changing this year!!

25 things about me...

2009-09-02T23:11:00.017+05:00

1. I am the ultimate vagabond. I bewilder half my friends with stories of places they would never have otherwise heard of, and feel a constant drive to get to the rest of the world that I haven't been to. I realised that if I want to get everywhere by the age of 60 I have to go to at least 4 new countries in each year. I have an enormous thirst to see it all, but I'm always aware that the path is quite a lonely one to have chosen.

2. I didn't want to be a teacher, I just sort of ended up doing it. But, because I'm naturally good at telling others what to do (!), it seems like a good fit, whether I want to admit it or not. I want to be working with humanitarian aid agencies in emergency relief, but I can't stand the politics of NGOs and the constant requests for funding that are all about who you know. I would also love to work for UNESCO relating to something like the World Heritage Sites, but I also think that the UN contradicts itself enormously in the ludicrously large salary and benefits packages they give.

3. I love cats. I really really adore then, but I don't think I really want one of my own. I've gotten too independent and selfish and want nothing to be responsible for, except myself. It's been nice cat-sitting though, even if Lenin is a karate-jumping, horse-racing, love-you-one-minute-bite-you-the-next maniac.

4. My family are one of the most important things in my world. I love spending time with them and sharing my life with them. Whereever they are is still home, and I enjoy going back there. I would live at home, if that was the city and job that I wanted, though it will stifle my social life!

5. I have too much stuff. I collect memories and beautiful things. I've tried to make a lot of it digital, but my computer hard drive bursts with my efforts. Moving constantly and being forced to kull it is the only thing that allows me to live in a house I can move around in. I do love my books and movies, even if I never have time to read/watch them. No matter how long a photo, painting or piece of art stays on my wall, I never tire at staring at it. I used to keep all photos, cards, letters, and items that were given to me--I even collect ticket stubs-- but I've made them digital images so at least I can pretend that I don't have a lot of things and they don't really take up any space.

6. I love thinking about how all my friends are doing. I'm not very good at translating that into actually telling them I'm thinking or asking how they're doing, but I hate the thought that people drift apart -- I try and fight that!

7. I like cheesy movies and books.

8. I love history and have decided that archaeology is the best way to feel like I will ever have some sort of impact on it.

9. I'm always sad that I seem to pick friends from completely different walks of life, societies, groups, cliques and cultures that don't get along with one another. I feel like I have to keep them all separate, when all I want is to bring everyone I love together and have happy times.

10. I'm a natural blonde, and in the sun, it bleaches. I love my hair, but I hate it when there's dry static. I've only died it twice in my life -- once made the fringe red (bad idea as it emphasized the zits and blemishes), and once brown because I was sick of Filipinos saying, 'Wow, your blonde hair is so gorgeous, I want your hair." It made my head hotter.

11. I want to visit Antarctica, Mongolia, Afghanistan, Patagonia, Teotihuacan, Libya, Yemen, Ethiopia, and do the Trans-Siberian Express, but not until my Russian is better.

12. I want to speak Arabic fluently -- what a beautiful language!!!

13. I wish I had more time in my days. I do not understand boredom and always have to be doing as many things at once as I can, and I still don't have time to do everything I want to do. I want to have a photography exhibition. I want to be a published writer of short articles. I want to paint. I want to make jewelry and other crafts to sell. I want to have a beautiful website with all my interests displayed and organized and connecting to all my friends and the interesting places I've seen and done. I want to read all the novels that sit on my shelf and have time to watch movies. I want to cook healthy meals for myself every night and have the odd opportunity to sew myself beautiful clothes. I want to walk outside more often and leave Baku to go to the country.

14. I love coffee shops, but I hate coffee. I think idling away a couple of hours chatting with a friend, people-watching the world go by is a delightful way to pass time, and I can drink copious amounts of tea, with cup after cup.

15. Not every single item in this list should begin with 'I'.

16. Maroon is my favorite color. I had always thought purple or lavender was, but all of a sudden, when I was about 16, I realised that all sorts of items I owned were maroon. I don't like red much at all, however. Don't even talk to me about yellow, orange and green, especially the primary colored ones.

17. I often wish that I could play a musical instrument, not for lack of trying. I really did give up the piano for lack of interest and the practicing of both it and the guitar just didn't seem to fit into my schedule. I sometimes wish I could sing, but get such stage fright that at other times I'm very glad that I can't.

18. While being single has it's perks, I would love to meet a lovely man who would be a good match for me!

19. World politics and human nature fascinate me and sadden me. I try to be optimistic, but am so incredibly realist by nature.

20. I have recently discovered unitarianism which sounds very interesting to me.

21. I don't mind if I die tomorrow, but of course I don't want to.

22. I'm late for dinner........

21. I don't mind if I die tomorrow, but of course I don't want to, but if that's meant to be I feel like I've still checked off a lot of my 'I want to do this before I die' list (but it keeps growing of course)

22. I'm discovering how unhealthy it is to live alone for too long. I get so prickly when I don't have to share time/space/things with others, and I hate it when I'm deliberately rude or difficult just because I'm feeling grumpy.

23. When I was a child I had nightmares that someone was chasing me and my family with a chainsaw, and while it was alarming, it was mostly a frantic run as opposed to terrifying stress.

24. My handwriting is some of the messiest you've probably ever seen, and it changes daily so that I don't have one style that stands out as mine. I pity my poor students who receive my marking.

25. I have almost 60 GB of music on my hard drive from all over the world, and 90 GB of photos that I have taken. I love the digital world, but still carry a notebook of numbers, addresses, tips, dressmaking/jewelry/art ideas, books to read/movies to see ideas. I would be devastated if my computer crashed, so I try and back it up repeatedly.

Iran - Esfahan May 2009

2009-06-08T22:22:00.051+05:00

On Thursday I arrived from Baku at about 1pm and took an expensive taxi to Esfahan. We drove through raw brown landscapes, with truly sweeping vistas--flat plains and salt flats split by jagged uplifts of rock and canyon. I checked into my shabby room way at the back of the Abbasi hotel then went for a walk to the Si-oh Seh bridge and then to Imam Square. I have to say that I love this square! The second biggest in the world after Tian'anmen, and the contrast couldn't be greater. While Tian'anmen is enormous, it's cold, rigid and uninspiring. On the other hand, Imam Square is lived in and loved by all! I love the fact the people can sit on the grass here. All sorts were blazing around, playing soccer or hacky sack. I wished I had a frisbee. The fountains were delightful and you are allowed to put your feet in them! If that's not enough, the square is surrounded by shops and has delightful horse carriages making the rounds. One of the best things about Esfahan are its squares and gardens. I sat for a while on the grass and nibbled at the delicious fresh strawberries and cherries I'd bought.

Friday morning, after moving to a far more superior room, I went on Lonely Planet's walking trail. Unfortunately a lot of the bazaar was closed due to it being Friday, but it was still a lovely day. To see the layers of civilization and the continued existence was super! The light filtering in through the covered arches was amazing. I then watched the sun set over the bazaar before heading back to my hotel. I wandered into the new city on the other side of the river for dinner -- what a chic modern place.

Mum and Dad certainly had adventures to get to Esfahan from Dubai: they lost a passport in the airport, and the plane was delayed (believe all the bad stuff you hear about Iran Air!) because the pilot's seat wasn't right. It didn't matter that their seats either didn't recline or only reclined. Finally after several painful hours in Dubai airport, the pilot came on and said he was "fully operational if you know what I mean". There were no safety guideline announcements, no barriers in the plane (so you could see the full length right up to the pilot's door), no seatbelt signs, and it seem some seats were held together with masking tape. However, they thought the biggest irony was that in their wait for the delay, IranAir supported American capitalism by issuing food vouchers for McDonalds!

After a few hours sleep, the Architectural Society of Dubai got us all up and out of bed for a quick run around the city sights. They're restoring many of the old areas of Esfahan and we visited the planning office of one just behind the Great Mosque. Everyone collapsed at around 1pm, and then more exploring in the evening.

The last day was spend driving back to Tehran airport for me -- just a quick trip!

Most Traveled People

2009-04-14T17:25:00.002+05:00

www.mosttraveledpeople.com

So I found a new way to procrastinate. I have a total of 117 of 757 places in the world according to this checklist, but I think the list is incredibly uneven. It includes provinces of some countries, but not of others, it includes states sometimes, but then forgets to put places like New Zealand's Stewart Island. India's provinces, but not Pakistan's. Only half of Spain's, and every single island in the middle of an ocean but not those close to the shore. I personally think that the creator allows places in by one's he's been to!

Interesting anyway. Was just telling a friend that I normally use the UN's list of countries to see where I've been, but that there are so many ways to list them and every list is different!

Teacher movies

2009-03-30T15:40:00.002+05:00

http://jimmy13.wordpress.com/2008/10/16/why-i-hate-teacher-movies/

Surfed onto this blog entry while I was looking for materials on 'October Sky'. Interesting-- and I find that I agree with a lot of what he says.

A reading list

2009-02-27T08:45:00.002+04:00

The BBC believes most people will have only read 6 of the 100 books here. How do your reading habits stack up?

If you want to follow along in Facebook, copy this note and then go to 'write a new note' and paste into your notes then... Look at the list and put an 'x' after those you have read once. Enter a number for the number of times you read something. Make sure you delete my x'S!

OK fellow bookworms, let's fight dirty!
1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen X
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling X2
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible -
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens X
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott X
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy X
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell X
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams X
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis X5
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis X5
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini X
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne X
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell X
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown X
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meany - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding X
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zifon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon X
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck X
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold X
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas X
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson X
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Inferno - Dante
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton X
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery X
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare X
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factoy - Roald Dahl X
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

Total: 23
Interesting collection here...

Languages

2009-02-22T12:40:00.002+04:00

This week is Mother Tongue week, and we've decided to celebrate it at my work/school, TISA. In my homeroom alone, we have 1 Spanish speaker, 4 Russian/Azeri speakers, 1 Mandarin/Cantonese speaker, 1 Italian Speaker, 1 Russian/English speaker, 7 English speakers (one with a Persian/Iranian background, and another whose parents speak Italian and German), and 2 Scottish speakers. What a diverse group!!

That last group was contentious -- is Scottish a dialect or a language in its own right? Scots, of course, insist it is a language, yet it is based on an English grammatical structure where many English speakers can understand large parts of the language. Sure, there are unique words in the language, but even New Zealand English has its own words - jandals, crook, chook, wagging, etc, although to be fair Scottish has more words than most dialects!! Wikipedia said that there is no accepted definition for where to draw the line between a dialect and a language, so there is no final answer. Heated discussions, though!! :)

Lenin: the couch-surfing cat

2009-02-14T16:45:00.003+04:00

Recently, when a friend was out of town on business, I had the joy of cat-sitting Lenin the cat. She'd recently been neutered, and had a delightful costume to prevent scratching, which Nina aptly said made them look like Christmas presents!

Calm and quiet for the first few days, after a strip-tease of the "corset", Lenin enjoyed her freedom by leaping over every item of furniture in my living room withing 5 minutes, continuing repeatedly for the next week. Lively and fun, but a bit of schizophrenic personality with flashes of calmness interspersed with attacks on limbs to karate-style leaps from couch to couch.

Baku news -- not much

2009-02-09T23:20:00.003+04:00

So Baku in February seems like the longest month, despite the irony of it being the shortest. Not a single holiday, not a single break. January and holidays are a memory, but March and future holidays are still distant. Many of my students are off to Dubai this weekend to play or watch siblings/friends play rugby, so it'll be a different mood at school.

Hmm... I'm still trying to decide where to go for my two week holiday in March. Iceland, Tanzania, Turkmentistan, Yemen, Socotra, Ethiopia, Cairo, Tunisia, Balkans, Baltic, London, Myanmar, Iran, Azerbaijan and others have all been considered, but I'm waiting for the tug to pull me to where I should be going. Possibly a ski trip to Georgia and to Armenia?? All sorts of plans. I got a new passport, so it's feeling a bit empty at the moment, though I did get the "Arabic" stamp so I can go to Libya (it's such a joke, and will still require other action).

I'm going to go to New Zealand in July. I am excited and can't believe this will be my first time home in winter in 9 years. Wow, time flies. Visitors are welcome!! I would love to share my home with you. I'm planning on hiking and skiing and other fun things. I am still deciding where to go via and where to come back through--nothing can be simple, of course! Lauren, I think I'm coming to your wedding! Who else lives in New Jersey?

I have a couchsurfer staying with me at the moment -- his name's Eric and he's cycling from Aberdeen to Adelaide. Check out his blog: http://www.aberdeen2adelaide.blogspot.com/. I haven't done so many activities in such a short time in Baku for ages, but it's great as I'm meeting all sorts of different people. Sunday, for example, I went on my first Baku hash through the Industrial Zone near Ulduz metro station (which has no other reason to ever cause people to go there), and I went to a quiz night tonight and my team won. I do believe that's the first time ever.

Okay, M4 will demand a good reason why I haven't marked their papers, so I'd better go and do some to pacify them!

Oman

2009-01-16T23:54:00.040+04:00

I'm putting my whole trip in one blog entry which makes it enormously long, but such an epic has to go all together! Just warning you… it’s 8 pages in MS Word.

Friday, December 26, 2008

On the first day we drove SE from Dubai towards the lovely oasis town of Al Ain. Several oases are spread throughout the little border town. Tragically, the oases are drying up because of the lowering of the water table (just imagine the consumption of water it takes to feed thirsty Dubai). On the UAE side, they are feeding the oases with desalinated water trucked up from the coast, but on the Omani side, they can't afford to do that, and are justifiably pissed off because they have to deal with a problem they didn't cause. What to do? The megalomaniacs of Dubai are unlikely to care about such a non-immediate environmental problem that doesn't directly affect them.

Once across the Mazyed border, we drove on towards Nizwa, stopping briefly at Ibri's charming little fortified village, which was only abandoned in1970 after hundreds of years. While we agreed on its picturesque nature, especially in the golden light of the setting sun, no doubt the draws of concrete (as opposed to mud brick) plumbing and air conditioning made it an easy choice to move.

Pics: Ibri's fortified village

Saturday, December 27

We left at about 9 to drive towards Nizwa fort where we spent an hour or two wandering around looking at the various holes and crevices of the restored castle. I spent $120 on 8 silver rings, having left all my own in Dubai. There were neat rooms with a special tri-cushion specially made for sitting on the floor. From there to Bahla where we wandered the empty souq at noon prayer-time looking for the indigo man and the pottery sellers. A beautiful mix of old mud brick and new quaint houses meandering past date palm plots, mosques, and empty scrubby desert.

After that, we drove to Jabrin fort -- a delightful castle reminiscent of the crusader castles in Jordan, full of sun lit lounging rooms with carpets and cushions perfect for lazing away a quiet afternoon, an underground tomb, Al-Humbra palace-like balconies and multiple misleading staircases. Lastly, we drove up the mountain: Jebel Shams. A fun drive up a windy road to a majestic vista of a beautiful dry Grand Canyon-like wadi at the top, where we settled into tent accommodation for the night and wandered off to see the sunset from various locales. It got quite cold as evening descended!

Pics: Nizwa fort, Bahla, Jabrin fort, views of Jebel Shams.

Sunday, December 28
Mum, Daniel and I all started with an early morning walk up Wadi Shams to the abandoned, hanging village of Sap Bani Khamis, which meant a three hour round trip walk up the inside of Oman's Grand Canyon. What an amazing walk! 300 meters of sheer cliffs hanging above you, a sharp drop off of over 1000 below you; surprisingly it didn't feel dangerous, but as a leisurely walk around a valley, including stunning views. The village was gorgeous, too! 15 families lived there till about 30 years ago, in tiny little stone houses built under the cliff overhang. They eked out a living with onions, pomegranates, olives, etc, planted on narrow terraces, the bottom of which falls directly off the cliff to the valley floor a sheer drop below. A little creek flowed through a cave, over a waterfall only to disappear into a little hole and drop under a natural stone bridge thousands of feet above the canyon. They herded sheep, goats, and no doubt chickens too. A small water collection tank, a flour grinder, and the bare trees of an orchard remain to flourish the imagination with a detailed picture of how it must have been to live here. The isolation would have had its blessings and curses no doubt (inter-marriage issues, water/electricity supply, distance from enemies, an ideal view to wakeup to, etc).

We drove back down Jebel Shams through Al Hamra, and back up a spectacular new road to a saddle summit where a ferocious wind was blowing. From there we passed breathless tourists in multiple jeeps ascending what must be the most spectacular mountain road I've ever been on, to get to the lovely villages at the bottom of the wadi near Hatt and Wadi Bani Awf. We were descending the steep, steep inclines in low ratio 4WD on the dusty narrow track in 1st gear, with the nervous passengers on the outer rim looking fearfully straight down the canyon over the edge. No such thing as guard rails! We wondered how they even got the heavy machinery up there to make the road in the first place.

Along the bottom of the wadi, we raced over the unsealed road toward the coastal highway and Muscat, passing other carloads of tourists sweatily getting into wetsuits to swim in the canyon of the wadi to our amusement, since we had already discovered that there was no water! In Muscat we stayed along the corniche near the fish market and just managed to catch the closing of the shops of the souq before bed.

Pics: canyon at sunrise, village and terraces and natural bridge, views from top of drive, Muscat

Monday, December 29
Mum, Dad and I headed out early to go to the bus station and to pay for future nights in the desert, narrowly avoiding the road closures of the GCC conference in town while everyone else toured the fish market and souq for some shopping. Off at around 11, and with a Shell service station's biryani for lunch, we took the new road to Sur via the Bammar sink hole swimming hole. What a neat place to swim! Andre, Daniel and Rory had a blast jumping off the rocks into the deep, brackish water while Jeff-o envisaged a slide rolling down the side. Seeing such a gaping hole made from an underground river's cave falling in makes me wonder just how many caves we were zooming over on the newly built road just in from the coast. Off again, and several badly-signposted wrong turns later, I drove us into Sur Beach Hotel for a sunset gaze over the red-tide infested low tide.

Pics: sink hole, mountains

Tuesday, December 30
After a delicious breakfast, we headed out to the beautiful green wadi near Tiwi that we had passed the day before. We hiked up the valley across stones where there used to be green gardens. Mum and Dad kept exclaiming about how different it was just two years ago. There was a major cyclone (very unusual for Oman) which blew across the whole region (see PowerPoint) and wiped everything out. At the top of the wadi we swam in a gorgeous refreshing pool. The boys enjoyed jumping off the high cliffs bombing into the water. Then we climbed over several pools and swam under a tunnel to get to a fantastic cave, where of course there was more jumping and tunnels to be had. Normally you have to swim underwater a ways to get to it, but right now the water level is low.

After walking down, we drove through Tiwi and down to the dhow yards of Sur and on to the desert camp near the turtles. After dinner we went out to see the mother turtles coming in to lay their many eggs. Everything's changed since the last time M&D were there—the government has taken over what was chaos and regulated it. We headed out at 8.30 and walked down to the beach in a big group. I must say the parents in our group disgusted me! Talk about leading by a bad example: leaving the torches on the beach when it confuses the turtles, speaking in full volume instead of whispering, and then there was this one woman who, when the guide asked if there were any questions, demanded to know when (impatiently) we would see turtles.... Of course it was the same woman that said, when we did eventually see a mother covering her eggs, 'That's it?' I decided that some people should never reproduce!

Pics: wadi, Sur dhow yards, camp

Wednesday, December 31

We got up at 3.30am to go and see the turtles again. Because of it being early, the people were keener and quieter, and it was much more enjoyable. Adding to that, we saw the babies! What gorgeous little things, and it's quite amazing to see the reproduction cycle at work, and the cycle of life with survival of the fittest clearly exhibited! Each mum waits till she's 37 before she returns to the same beach she was born on (hoping that some rich Dubai company hasn't developed it into a hotel or fake island) to lay 100 eggs, returning again for the same two weeks later. There were about 20 mothers laying on our beach that night, but of 1000 eggs, only 4 or 5 baby turtles survive! We sat around one nest of cuties emerging and half couldn't seem to get out of the hole, or got up to the top then rolled back down in their eagerness to live. Stumbling over sand dunes (our footstep holes) twice their size, they were disoriented by the torch lights, and some just headed inland out of idiocy or bad genes. Assuming they make it to the sea (and to do that, they must evade foxes, seagulls, crabs and other predators), the babies have enough energy to swim frantically for 3 days to reach the food and relative safety of deeper waters. Then they may travel the world to such exotic locales as Indonesia, Australia, Mauritius, South Africa or India.

It was heartbreaking to see one little one make it all the way to the sea, only to be repeatedly swept back by the waves, then scooped up by a passing gull! Aunty Helen rescued one from the dire fate of going inland, and watched it foolishly bob away on the surface instead off diving deep, and then it too was scooped up for a mid-flight snack. That is their fate though, and though we encouraged and assisted as many little ones as we could, acting as bodyguards from other beastly treasures, we could not save them all, and once they disappear into the big blue, we cannot help them at all.

After a morning snooze and a bracingly cold shower, we headed off down the coast through quaint, hardy, fishing villages that had a distinct feeling of the Wild West. Ornate, worn, carved doors hid behind crumbling concrete archways, derelict half-toppled mud-brick walls sat astride the road beside Toyota trucks with faded stripes that looked either faintly abused or well-loved but certainly as if they had a hard life. Men in dishdashas and Omani headscarves at one service station wanted to sweep me away to some stifling marriage or other such pedestal!

We arrived at our desert camp and amusedly watched everyone else struggle to drive up the sandy incline in front of the camp. One particularly stubborn woman in a Dodge? Lincoln? Mercury went up the hill 6 or 7 times, then was directed by one of the guides to the top, and proceeded to go straight back down again to prove that it was her car and not her driving (or something like that) and couldn't get up for another 6 or 7 tries! Cheering or laughing depending on the attempt, we hoped the people didn't take note of our clothes to harass us at dinnertime.

We went dune bashing into the sunset. A rather foolish endeavor from the car owner's perspective, it involved driving as speedily as possible up steep golden sand dunes, bouncing through twists and turns, getting stuck in a pit of sand and asking passengers to push the car out, rolling the car from side to side as you swerve through pitching turns, the car yawed shark-like back and forth, bouncing us all almost through the roof and certainly into the doors. It was rounded up by the Grand finale: driving straight down an almost 45 degree slope, which Jeff-o's apt description sums up. 'On that last one, I could see the horizon through the sun roof!' we sand-boarded leisurely down steeped slopes and captured the meeting sun in our hands.

2008 was rounded up with a delightful Arab drum concert and other festivities organized by the camp. The fantastic band were also a dance troupe: all African descendants, mostly of slaves from Oman's spoils of conquering the East African coast. The dancing was an amazing mix of Arab and African... Dancing in lines with no touching, circles and feet kicks (presumably to remove sand), sashaying randomly with all caliber of energy put into the dancing. White-makeup-faced women were dancing in bright costumes of many layers with blue patterned veils used coquettishly in the motions of movement. The men wiggled their hips and stamped their feet in their sarongs and ceremonial dagger belts. One kept leaping up and then rolling and falling on his knees at everyone's feet to weave a story into the chirpy rhythm. The women gave their mournful yodeling cry, and the men chatted to their brethren and continuously swapped places to ensure an even match to the 6 hardy women. Everyone clapped. Delighted Lebanese women guests in juxtaposing tight jeans with exposed bellies wove between them to donate money as a tip by putting notes on the women's heads. Everyone got up to dance: quite a workout in the deep sand!

Pic. Turtles, mum and babies, sunrise, desert camp, dune bashing, sun in hands, sitting on rise of sand

Thursday, January 1, 2009
After a leisurely breakfast at our delightful desert camp, we drove to nearby Ibra to have a wander in their souq and woman's market. After a quick browse through the vegetable and carpentry sections, we decided the old city might be more exciting, so drove off into the distance, eventually meandering our way through tiny alleys and gates that were not intended for SUVs, almost scraping the sides. We found the magical mud- brick township full of derelict old merchants’ homes, palatial and beautifully decorated, but abandoned to the sun and winds. They apparently made their money in the trade with and colonization of Zanzibar, which Oman controlled until the middle of the 20th century. Making homes of mud-brick is one thing, but making them three floors tall is a genuine glory, and they must be the mansions of the times!

A couple of ‘Oman Oil’ stops later (to return our sand-abused tires to normal p.s.i.) we arrived back to the civilization shock that is Muscat. Wow, what should we do when we see a Starbucks and a Dairy Queen?? It's too much to handle! Seafood buffet (which didn't quite meet the glory of the one at Christmas, but was still delicious) and several games of Hearts later (sadly despite my best efforts, I was the loser this time), it was time for bed.

Pics: Ibri's mud-brick homes

Friday, January 2
After yet another delicious buffet breakfast, we discovered someone had forced open the windows of the jeep overnight. Luckily, nothing appeared to be taken. While that was being fixed, I discovered that a dear friend from my childhood in Queenstown (Lauren Kelly Stoneley) was killed in a car accident over the xmas holidays. What a tragedy! So young, and her poor little boy!

We drove from our place which was almost on the beach, past Ruwi, and 'downtown' (Muttrah) to old Muscat and the Sultan's palace. It’s a 70's monstrosity of blue and gold pillars, but perfectly appropriate for a new age prince. Most of the old city had completely lost any quaintness however, but the next bay over was much more charming, and also clearly more poor. We attempted to drive into the major Shangri-La hotel and a neighboring Dive Center beach, but the colossal prices were off-putting, no doubt as they intended! USD30 just to drive the car in! We eventually found a little cove with a fishing village and had a wander along the coastline. Unfortunately, most of northern Oman has the Red Tide, which is an algae that turns the water a soupy red color. Because it sucks oxygen out of the water, it kills fish and coral, and this year it has lasted two more months than usual. It is bad to swim in, and everything is affected! Poor Oman.

After a leisurely wander around the beach and shops near our hotel during the afternoon (it was Friday after all, so nothing is open) we went back to the souq for dinner and a forage in the silver shops. Many beautiful rings and other jewelry is old-looking and hand-made, so we all sat down at the over-flowing baskets of dusty creations to blackened our hands with finding that perfect item. Mum and I are still debating if it truly is old, or just recreated. I found a replica of my Create pendant there, and it is impossible to doubt that much of it is made in India. The sad thing is that the south Asians dominate the selling and shopping instead of the traditional Arabs, and as two cruise ships were in town, the prices were vastly inflated and the shopkeepers impatient.

Pics: Sultan's palace, fishing village

Saturday, January 3

Rising at the crack of dawn, M&D drove me to the bus station and put me on the 12 hour slog to Salalah. It passes through the mountains then passes through a huge amount of flat, empty desert. It was fascinating to see the sheer number of camel crossing signs (yet no camels) and the random ambulance that passed us, sirens screaming, that we later passed and picked up the driver of! Where on earth is it coming from and even more puzzling, where is it going? There is absolutely nothing out there.

As a solo female traveler, I am a focus for curiosity and puzzlement. At Oman pit stops, females are required to enter through the 'family entrance'. Only men may enter the front door. This is not to exclude women but to protect them. If I had insisted on entering the front door, I would be allowed in, but honestly, the stares of the many men just wouldn't make it worth it. A young woman invited me to eat with her and was astounded that I was travelling alone, even more astounded that I was in Oman alone, and in a hotel alone. She was sure I would get bored with all the time by myself. I am such an enigma! After the typical biryani, I shuffled back onto the bus again.

Arriving into Salalah just before sunset was like arriving into a deserted Wild West ghost town. There are many empty lots and very few people, but as it is not the Khareef (monsoon) season, there are very few people here. I wandered across the street to my charming hotel where I settled in while watching ‘Enigma’, some cold war film from the70s with Martin Sheen as the star East German. I had a wander to the Indian shopping center nearby, and then around the little shops downtown.

Pics camel crossing and desert

Sunday, January 4

Sleeping in a bit (despite also sleeping on the bus all the previous day) I enjoyed my continental breakfast and had a wander of town, eventually succumbing to one of to the obnoxious beeping taxi drivers who drove me down to Al-Baleed, the old city ruins. A huge expanse right of the sea's edge, it has been designed so that the rich Arab visitors can ride around it on electric golf carts. Not much is there other than a giant pile of rocks, although they have uncovered the remains of many mosques, which would typically have been the most permanent of structures. As I wandered through the thick dust I wondered if it was the remains of ornate mud brick homes. A new museum has been setup, and it seemed that everything in there was a copy of something in a European museum. London, Paris, Germany... What disgusting hoarders the colonists were (are), or else far-sighted culturally interested people, supplying examples for their future generations.

After buying an Oman calendar (ironically, produced in Dubai), I snuck out through a hole in the fence to the glorious beach beyond. Miles and miles of empty white sand (albeit pockmarked by many sets of tire tracks) was all mine -- not another soul was within shouting distance. Cursing that I'd left my togs back at the hotel, I had a swim in my shirt and undies instead --- delicious water, but a fierce wind, which while cold, made for a quick dry off.

I strolled back to town past the derelict old houses and boarded up restaurants, and pondered how obnoxious the busy season would be. As it was, it felt truly like a ghost town, with almost no people around. Reaching the Sultan's beach-side palace with nary an inch of shade in sight, I gazed out at the birds and stalks feeding on fish and crabs. Wandering through a reawakening souq, I was disappointed to find nothing of interest. At the gold and silver souq closer to town, I had success however! A quaint little burger place provided dinner.

Pics: Al Baleed, town

Monday, January 5
I met a girl at breakfast. Her name was Claire and she was a solo female traveler like me, so I invited her to come along with me in my rent a car. To think, she was going to try the microbuses! Now, that's intrepid.

Off we went in the direction of Mirbat. What a town! If I ever thought Salalah was an outpost at the end of the world, Mirbat is worse. The site of a major battle between the Marxist rebels and Sultan Qaboos' government forces in the 1970s, it was supposed to have a fort. We found three sort-of-fort-like buildings, one of which was titled castle but had fallen in on one side and was boarded shut. Other than that there wasn't so much in the forgotten town... That was until I found my favorite abandoned mud-brick house in all of Oman. This delightful, derelict structure had intact stairs leading all the way to the third floor! It had turret style roof edges, beautiful wooden lattice windows, and the best part were the fantastic decorations still intact in each room, with the best being the third floor of course, which has spirals and coils lined all over the walls, carved doors, window frames and pillars, painted ceilings and beams. The view out the windows was of the sea, the courtyard or to an almost equally delightful similar house next door. Why oh why is concrete and air-conditioning seen as better? Why couldn't they preserve their old homes instead of abandoning them to the elements and raiders, squatters, animals and other vandals?

From there we drove to Khor Rhori. The northern turn off, it turns out, is the wrong one. After being in jeeps and 4WDs for the last 10 days, I am unused to a regular car's capabilities, but I took it off-road, certainly over places I shouldn't have. At one point I was unsure of the path, but it was too late to go back, although we eventually did made it. Khor Rhori was the amazing frankincense port of Samhan in history, with a beautiful harbor that is now blocked off by a sand bar. We stopped for a while on the sand bar for a paddle and a swim, the drove on up Jebel Samhan to a sinkhole and Wadi Dharbat, a dry waterfall near a green valley with many strolling camels near the town of Tawi Allei.

At around 4 o'clock we pulled into Taqah to visit its two forts/castles, which had unfortunately locked up for the day. As we were driving back we passed 20 or 30 fishermen pulling in their nets on the shore, near 5 or 6 trucks parked on the sand. Huge flocks of gulls circled greedily, swinging down to swoop away some of the catch as it came to the surface because of the nets. Other dumb birds just crowded around to watch and got nothing. They squawked all the way up the beach and their excitement was palpable.

Pics: abandoned house in Mirbat, Khori beach, fort, fishermen

Tuesday, January 6

Was up with the usual hotel construction (a 7:45am jack-hammering beside my ear), and another simple 'continental breakfast' (toast and tea). Met an interesting German guy who had cycled down to Salalah from Dubai. It certainly put my 12 hour bus ride into perspective!

We were out the door by 9, headed on a much more picturesque road toward the Yemen border. Inland for the first while, we eventually hit a gorgeous beach: Mughsail. From there, a majestic snaking road up to 1000m, right above the sea. We passed a military checkpoint and then went a bit further, where it was rolling plateau inland. We didn't reach the border as it was a further 70km, but turned around to head back to the beach. From the beach there's a walk up to some blowholes, which sadly were not blowing because the sea was calm. Lunch in a cute seaside restaurant (I was going to say bistro but that's probably going too far!), and then a swim, while the fisherman drove up and down the enormous line of sand looking for schools of fish to throw their nets at. A peaceful drive back and a drink at the Hilton brought us home at sunset. Dinner at Al-Fareed's--Indian food or the typical kebab fare is all that we seem to be able to find in Oman, although ironically, this place also had Chinese!

Pics: cliffs, beach, mountain road

Wednesday, January 7

My last full weekday in Oman began with some errands, the most important of which was the post office. I also discovered that because they've created the new museum at Al-Baleed, the old one is empty, save the (very interesting) photos by Wilfred Thesiger of the Dhofar area before his camel trek across the Empty Quarter. Unfortunately, a child's festival and exhibition was taking place so the photos were in storage.

From there I drove to the Prophet Job's tomb: a very unremarkable building in a remarkable place. It's incredibly important to Islam, perhaps even the holiest place in this part of Oman, but other than being very long, is not the most exciting tomb I've ever seen. However, I can quite admire its humbleness. It is perched high on the edge of the mountains directly behind Salalah, and after several wrong turns taking me to a random farmyard, I made it. The view from the parking would have been spectacular, gazing over the plains to the sea with a clear image of Salalah, but it was hazy and the hills are an ugly brown at this time of year.

I headed back to Taqa fort to see what I had missed before. It's been beautifully restored, albeit with concrete instead of the traditional mud-brick, and each room decorated how it would have looked with any traditional artifacts. Interestingly, it was more a castle than a fort, with the main military garrison being on top of the hill behind. It was a castle in the sense that it belonged to one important family, and the rooms they lived in, complete with master bed and baby's cradle. I forgot to look for Sultan Qaboos' mother's grave, but drove back in search of Prophet Salem's camel's footprints instead. I never did find them! They've hidden in a suburb of Salalah, and to be fair, I can't say I know who Salem is anyway, though I was curious to see how they'd preserved the footprints.

Instead, I drove on, down the main street of Salalah, As-Salam Street, passing little dinky little shops, a disproportionate number of hairdressers, but most things were closed for the siesta. My destination was a bird preserve at the western end of town, were there are many storks, flamingoes, and other protected avians. Unfortunately, I couldn't see many, but enjoyed the beach instead, in its vast, empty, wild expanse. The last order of the day was exploring Salalah's retail opportunities. The ‘Centrepoint’ chain provided me with some much needed new sandals, and then I watched the beginning of the Iraq-Oman soccer game from the luxury coffee shop downtown, Browniz, whose Lebanese owners were staying in our hotel in Muscat.

Pics: Taqa fort, view from Ayub's tomb

Thursday, January 8

After breakfast I tried the handicrafts market, but unfortunately it was closed for the day/month/whatever. After some email time and a trip to the ATM, my rental car company came to collect me to go to the airport. The charming Indian man who was the manager told me he’d been in Salalah 8 years and absolutely loved it there. He said it was a great place to live because he had his family with him and he had lots of time off. Compared with his hard-working, mistreated friends and relatives in Dubai, no doubt it must have enormous appeal, which is quite ironic considering that most westerners would prefer the excitement of Dubai to the boredom of Salalah. Different places in life generate different needs, I guess.

I had a long time in tiny Salalah airport, and then, once in Muscat, I caught the 6-hour bus back to Dubai. It’s an enormous border crossing (a very wide no-man’s-land through hills and canyons). The Dubai bus station is in Deira, where my parents were waiting in the smokiest Shisha café, where, to the vastly over-eager owner, my father said that I was married for the first time in my life.

If you've gotten this far, you certainly deserve to see the rest of the photos if you're interested: They're on facebook and anyone can access them: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=204140&l=466fb&id=668335330, here http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=204172&l=2622a&id=668335330, and here http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=204635&l=59482&id=668335330

R.I.P. Lauren Kelly Stoneley

2009-01-03T22:28:00.003+04:00

On December 29th, a childhood friend of mine, Lauren Stoneley died in a car accident on her way to Queenstown, NZ. She was a lovely, kind, fun, caring person who will be greatly missed. Best wishes to all her family back home.

Iran December 2008

2008-12-24T16:33:00.000+04:00

This December (2008), I had some free time so decided to check out the skiing scene in Iran. There are several ski fields near Tehran: Shemshak, Dizin, Darbanshar, Touchal. I also decided to try out www.couchsurfing.org as a surfer instead of a host. Great way to see the real Iran!

Skiing:
I took a tour --at 6am a bus picked me up at the house I was staying in North Tehran. It's a good thing I wasn't sleepy as the loud boppy music that was coming out of the speakers was young and vibrant, just like most of the people on the bus. I would say what a way to meet gorgeous Iranian men -- ride the ski bus, except, oh well, they were all under 20! The bus driver was clapping and energetic (singing) bus and sometimes it seemed as if the bus drove itself --alarmingly, we passed two accidents!

The ski fashion was interesting. In most of the world, everyone is wearing snowboarding fashion, but in Tehran, it didn't matter if you wore ski racing gear from the 70s or now -- it's all fashionable and costs money! Ski suits I haven't seen since my childhood were common.

Half way, of course I needed to go to the loo. Have you ever tried squatting in ski boots? I wasn't impressed.

Many people asked me what the condition of the equipment was like. Well, it wasn't like Georgia. The lifts look they were built in the 1970s - no wonder they shut down one day a week for maintenance! The conditions were fabulous (at first). A beautiful sunny day with lovely powder and no trees, just like NZ. However, they also don't feel it necessary to supplement their feelings of inadequacy by having a million snow makers. They say there's never not been snow, so no worries! There were a few too many pomas, though, and I have quite forgotten how to ride them! I guess I'm just being lazy and not challenging myself. When did I become so cautious?

Anyway, with cheap prices and beautiful skies, how can I complain. However, after lunch, the weather moved in, and even in the antique cabinas -- it snowed inside! Door were held shut, but barely. I was amused to see how the snow stuck to all the hair gel on the men!! I guess where it's an expensive sport, it's about fashion and not talent -- perhaps like the japanese were in Queenstown when I was learning to ski. For example, I was quite impressed with the fashion daring of the ski suit that was all white with checkers and white with alternating colored stripes! However, the conversations I had were interesting: One handsome young thing said: How long are you staying? Another: Don't ever go shopping by yourself. Another: I want your blonde hair and white skin (sad!), etc, etc!

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One of the best experiences I had while I was there, however, was the night of the winter solstice. In Iran it's called 'Shab Yal dar' (longest night/milod birth). It was so interesting to discover that their calendar is solar and based on zodiac (12 Angels of Ancient Iran). I also discovered that when I insisted on pronouncing Iran as the sound in Arabic, I was actually wrong. Iran = Ayran = not Ir but ay.

Anyway, the wonderful opportunity to go and spend the longest night with elders and recite poetry was truly magical. I was shamed in the lack of poetry I have memorized. While they are reading from ancient Farsi scripts (sometimes even in a competitive game where the end must be beginning of next quote). It was so amazing to also discover the historical connections. Farsi = there is no 'p' in arabic so it was actually parsi = Persia = Persepolis. The Parsis in India were the Zoroastrians. Iran included Azerbaijan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Afghanistan, so all speak Parsi in some way, so I was delighted to hear some of the Azeri on the street: e.g. beli (yes), yeni (new). They also don't call it Armenia but 'Armentistan'.

Iran was wonderfully cosmopolitan with French, Swiss, American, Turkish and other connections becoming immediately apparent. They are incredibly educated, and have a strong heritage. In the family I visited, 4 in family of 15 spoke English: how many in my family could show the same variety by speaking another language or more than one? The 94 year old uncle quoted me poetry in English and I couldn't even remember one poem from high school!

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I did a little bit of touring in Tehran as well, because the weather wasn't so hot for skiing after all -- I went up the ski field that overlooks Tehran and was half way up when the wind increased and they asked us all to go down again.

There were some interesting old photos in Golestan Palace downtown. I was fascinated to see the Armenian women with tall hats and mouth/nose covers -- not just a Muslim tradition? Especially amazing was the photo of the Zoroastrian tower of silence with decaying bodies inside. What an amazing practice! There were also lovely images of musicians with neat shoes, and elaborate clothing all trimmed neatly with hats and traditional women making butter in a skin.

I took the metro everywhere, usually going into the special women's carriage. I thought it was interesting to imagine that Tehran in it's essence, seemed to me to be a cross between Syria and Korea, or maybe I was just imagining it!? However, in neither of those places did I have to wear the frustrating cloaks and layers that Iran requires! Then again, why is world so fascinated with jeans, anyway?

I ended the day with a trip to the Gem Museum. Never have I seen so many gems in one room. If you wore them now, many people would think them gaudy, ostentatious and over the top... I don't even buy fake stuff that looks like that, but I suppose to have the gems and look rich was the whole point.

Photos: The decorations at Golestan Palace. Me with the topled Shah's boots at his old palace. Views of Tehran from ski field.
NB: I finished writing this on January 5, 2010.

From Tehran

2008-12-22T19:14:00.002+04:00

And wouldn't you know it.... Facebook is blocked in Iran. Why am I suprised? What I'm pissed off about is that because I've been out of the "controlled" zone for 6 months, I've forgotten all the web proxies to get around it! Oh well...

What a great place this is! As I always do, I've been debating back and forth about whether I'd like to live here, but of course there are too many reasons on both sides, it would have to be for fate to decide!

I would love: the welcoming, friendly Iranians, the gorgeous Iranian men, the majestic Taborz mountains on the skyline, the sheer size (many places to explore), the four ski fields within driving (or taxiing) distance (FOUR!! And two go from telecabinas within the city!), the four seasons, the chic modernity, the well-dressed locals, the eternal search for good shopping, the narrow windy streets, exotic places like Persepolis, Shiraz and Esfahan within travelling distance, the fascinating Persian history and language.

I wouldn't love: the aggressive men, having to be bundled up all the time (I thought I wouldn't mind, but after whole days wearing a headscarf, I just want to TAKE IT OFF), the lack of cafes and restaurants, religious prudishness, having to search for the shopping, the sheer size of the city, the traffic, the narrow windy streets, that I've already exhausted most of the interesting muesums, the tiny international school (only 100 or so kids!) and the lack of many nationalities, the one hour trek to the airport, streets and streets of bland rolling suburbia, the insults towards Arabic as a result of the overt nationalism.

Um... and probably lots more but I can't remember them now.

I'm going to sign out now because it's time in the internet cafe, and I'll write more later! (Lots to say!)

Myanmar: To go or not to go?

2008-12-16T22:38:00.002+04:00

http://www.burmacampaign.org.uk/dirty_list/dirty_list_details.html

'The Dirty List' was published this week with a list of companies that have relations with the Myanmar junta government. It's an interesting assortment of companies, large and small, predictably with many from China and Thailand, but other big companies as well. While I don't really want to comment on companies and corporations going to Myanmar, other than to say that they are certainly in many other disreputable places without receiving criticism. Practices of corporations may not necessarily be good in their home country, and may well be very good in their host country and it is not good to generalize them all.

One interesting criticism that Myanmar travellers often receive is that they should not travel there because travelling there is helping the Myanmar junta. Daw Aung San Suu Kyi is one advocate of this argument.

First of all, I honestly believe that Daw Aung San Suu Kyi has been under house arrest for so long that she may not necessarily be the best expert on matters in her own country, and she is certainly restricted in seeing the full picture by her advisors and the government.

Secondly, I think the advice not to travel is very limited. I think that needs clarification. I wholeheartedly agree that the large tour agencies that offer package tours where the tourists see nothing but their tour bus and 5 star hotels (which are very government influenced) are not advisable. However, I truly think that cutting a country off from foreign witnesses allows the problems to prevail. Independent travelers are a necessity in a place like Myanmar. Getting to the out of the way places means that people are seeing and witnessing and contributing in ways that get directly to the people.

I lived in Myanmar for three years as a teacher, so all those axes that should fall, will. But education, regardless of whether it is the poorest villager or the richest businessman's son is about awareness, and if we are to ensure that future generations of Myanmar leaders are not the corrupt madmen of the present day, then we need to make them aware, not only of their own country, but of the world, and human nature, and people and compassion.

I would never want to sanction the Myanmar government in any way. However, the situation is far more complex than the black and white that foreign groups often portray it. Many of the so-called "government-owned" properties are in fact owned simply by rich Asian businessmen who may have made deals with the government for permission (and this is done everywhere). That doesn't make me any more willing to put money in their pockets, but it does affect the overall issues. Yes, the people of Myanmar are some of the poorest and most needy in the world, but politicians will be politicians wherever they are, and corruption exists in most places, so it will never be eradicated. What areas can we improve on and affect? Health, education. The UN chooses to have a presence in Myanmar to aid the people, and we can support the people through them. Yes, the Myanmar government charges ridiculous prices of foreigners for its sights, but so do many places in the world. Yes, there are fees and charges hidden into many costs in Myanmar, but for just as many fees you pay to the government, you are at the same time contributing to a real person's need to make a living and support his/her family.

I have felt sad when friends or associates of mine have chosen not to visit Myanmar for fear of aiding the government. Every one of them would have been independent traveller, and would have maintained their contributions to the junta's pockets at a minimum. Thankfully, very few people that I know would come on a package tour, and I recommend all those that are considering that to look elsewhere for such pursuits. It is a truly beautiful country with a long-suffering, gentle, welcoming, friendly Buddhist populace. I cannot recommend experiencing a trip there, and meeting and helping those people that you can, any higher.

Court Documents via Facebook??

2008-12-16T20:57:00.002+04:00

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10548377&pnum=0

The world is constantly evolving!! Apparently it is now legal to find someone on facebook and issue them with a court order and it is binding if other methods of contacting them have failed. An Aussie couple that were avoiding their house payments and court dates, were told they'd lose there house.

When I first read the headline, and I was disgusted with Australia (but it was a bit sensationalist and written to shock), but now that I've read the article, I actually agree. If someone is being difficult by not leaving a forwarding address and ignoring other contacts, then they deserve to lose their rights. Of course if there is a legitimate reason for their being out of contact, then it should be able to be appealed, but that's quite unlikely if they're using Facebook constantly.

What next in this modern evolving world??

Iran, Dubai, Oman and beyond!

2008-12-14T18:23:00.004+04:00

This Friday, I'm flying to Tehran to try and see what the skiing scene is like in Iran! I've heard it's good and cheap, and honestly, how many people do you know who say that's what they did for their weekend? It's quite exciting. I have to remember to get some ID photos taken that have a scarf, and let's hope getting a visa on entry is hassle free (and possible)! I'm not sure how well I'll deal with skiing in a skirt, but hopefully the dress code is more lax on a ski field! Lovely Iran - here I come!!

After that, I'm going to join my family in Dubai for yummy Christmas dinner! On Boxing Day, we'll pile into an SUV convoy and drive over into Oman. I'm excited to see the turtles, the beautiful canyons, the desert, the cities and of course the warmth (it snowed in Baku this morning!). I'm probably going to go down to Salalah if I can for the last week, then have a couple of shopping days in Dubai at the end. What fun!

Scotland

2008-12-14T18:13:00.002+04:00

I spent our long weekend last week on a very quick trip to Scotland to visit Sam. I only had four days, and one of those was spent entirely in travel. Still, what fun!!

I arrived at noon and Sam patiently waited while I spent a small fortune in the super Glasgow shops! We spent an evening on the town going to places like her local pub The Islay, ABC Club, Buddha Bar, but missed out on Nicensleazy and other exciting places! What great live music! What delicious cider! :)

On Sunday, I made poor Sam get up early so that we could catch the train up to Loch Lomond (1 hour away). Thankfully, the entire time I was there I had spectacular (if crisp) clear weather. Loch Lomond reminded me so much of Central Otago! I can see why the Scots felt so at home there! The beautiful tree-less mountains of brown tussuck-like stuff, covered in a nice dusting of snow was just like the hills behind Cromwell, not to mention Cecil Peak across from Lake Wakatipu! Gorgeous! They even had their own 'Maid of the Loch' steamship just like the Earnslaw! We missed the train back by seconds, but enjoyed some country time. Sunday night saw us in the church that has been converted into a bar/nightclub. The founders must be turning over in their graves, but it was wonderfully modern and a sense of today! Great use of space!!

While Sam prepared for her presentation on Monday, I took the train 1 hour to Edinburgh to explore that majestic touristy city! I spent pounds on Princes St, wandered the Castle, had my ears split open by the 1pm cannon, admired the Scot crown jewels, and wandered the Royal Mile! A lovely last dinner in the Islay with Sam's mates that was supposed to be Christmas Dinner, but needed pre-ordering!

I love the bookshops, the clothing, and the amazing thing was the Scots themselves!! I never really thought about it, but they look similar. There really is a typical 'Scot' look, and now that I've seen it, I recognize it in my Scot students here in Baku. It's hard to describe, but seems to be wide high cheekbones and large eyes, but there is also a smaller narrow-face, pointy pixie look. An English colleague mentioned that she can often tell a regional English as well, such as Cornish. Because I come from such a poly-glot NZ/Aust/USA background, everyone is distinct, but it is just fascinating to see a place with a 'typical' look!!

Reading the news

2008-12-09T18:10:00.002+04:00

I was reading The Economist on the plane home today and it had an article about Iraq ('Well, is it victory or humiliation?' Nov 29-Dec 5). It talked about Iraqis deciding for themselves when America would leave. They mentioned that America would not be getting the bases it wanted. I never even thought about them wanting that, but of course there have interests in the area and that would be a perfect way to protect them.

As for America invading Syria and Iran from Iraq, I don't doubt that they have done that but they will do that while they have control of the area. It's all about multiple agendas. I don't know if I agree with them when they say that the Iraqi Sunnis have rejected al-Qaeda but they seem to think so although they do say that Iraq 'remains violent and fractious'.

The most interesting part however, was when they mentioned the connection or non-connection with Iran. Although Shias are close to Iran, Iraq's Shias and Sunnis share an identity as Arabs that may encourage them to resist an Iranian takeover of their politics. When America departs, a lot of Iraqis will want Iran to butt out too. Very perceptive! It's so easy to focus on the bad that America is doing that we often forget about the other parties to the issue. Poor Iraq!!

I often think that if Myanmar didn't have such a lazily corrupt government/dictatorship then it might descend into similar sectarian violence. Purely hypothetical of course, but it does make you think.

Baku news

2008-11-25T17:58:00.008+04:00

I can't believe that I haven't posted anything in over a month. I just don't know where my time goes, but I certainly don't have any of it spare. Tonight, of course, I need to be doing my grades and it's only when I have something important to be done that I get all the other little things done (like on Sunday, I finally hemmed my pants from my September trip to Dubai!!). I certainly need to finish blogging about my trip to Pakistan, not to mention the summer holiday! There are CDs to burn for Andrea and Dennis, and of course many books to read. Anyway, here's a little blurb about some of the things I've done in the last little while.

Here's me a Sue's housewarming party with Sue and Cath last weekend.

This is at the St. Andrew's Ball with Ashi and Chris (who was at ISM in Manila for years!), which I absolutely loved. Too many of these types of functions have half-hearted dancing, but this one was great--very active and enthusiastic! I do wish I'd taken highland dancing as a child... I think mum wouldn't let me because I already had too many things going on.

An official photo from the ball complete with pipe band. The pipe band missed their flight because they had such a long night...

This is at the Rugby ball with Sally and Jojo -- not the best ball I've been too, but a wonderful kiwi parent at school was lovely enough to think of me when she had some tickets. A life for future All-Blacks: speaking at balls in random places like Baku: Former Springbok Kobus Wiese was the speaker of the evening. Apparently last year it was Sean Fitzpatrick and a guy at my table gave him a really hard time!!

My taxi buddies: Jo, David, and Liz outside the front of the school one morning.

This is us wandering along the "Boulevard", the Caspian Sea-side Nefchilar Avenue. We've had fantasticly warm weather for this time of year, really!

At Neila's halloween party with David. I finally wore my mermaid outfit--to rave reviews!! :) And yes, this is just something I happened to have in the closet...
So I won something at a bazaar two weekends ago--this was my lovely prize. It's entitled "Azerbaijan Oil and Gas" and I think it's god-awful... one of my charming homeroom students decided it would make the perfect gift for her dad for Christmas!! :)

My soccer team winning the championships! Considering we actually had only 3 practices, I shouldn't really take any credit!! I don't know if I'll coach next year. I don't think I make a very good coach because I just wish I was playing all the time.

This is during spirit week, and these are my homeroom students with spirit!

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So that's it... for now anyway!! I'm going to see Sam in Glasgow next weekend--yay!! It's supposed to be cold, but I've been told by several people here that it's a fun party town with a great historical center, so we shall see. Then there's only a week and a half beyond that to our Christmas vacation! I'm going to go to Iran to see if I can ski for a couple of days (after all, how many people can say they did THAT?), then will join the family in Dubai for Christmas where Aunty Helen's family is also coming, and we'll go to Oman for New Year's together in a car convoy --I hope I get to drive!! I have a week extra just for me, where I have to decide if I'll stay in Oman and travel down to Salalah on the bus, or come back to Dubai for a week or go somewhere else exciting. I wanted to go to Socotra in Yemen, but there are no flights from Dubai of course. Someday, I'll go there.

I really must go and write some more of my million and one comments for the report cards and finish marking all the material for them. I can't wait for tomorrow to be over because I'll finally have a clean slate after being bogged down and behind for so long.

Taxila

2008-10-18T19:04:00.002+05:00

Taxila is a site that's just out of Islamabad and it's got everything from all eras.

The site of taxila is an archaeologists dream! It must have been so amazing to 'discover' it in the the 1920s. There are amazing finds such as statues of Athena and Aphrodite... Proof of Alexander the Great's far conquests. There are tablets in Aramaic. Even the every day articles are amazing... From chairs to keys, to door pieces, to horse fittings, to surgical instruments, to scales, to the requisite arrowheads and chisel and axes. Whole wheels and oh, the most amazing beads! Even carved heads and statues.

Of course, the museum doesn't look like it's been modified since the 1920s right down to the painted list in the curator's office and the leather-metal-button seats. I exaggerate of course, but it was ridiculous to see the carpet being swept!

At Julian, the only way to see the relics was to go with the guy who had the key. He was the only 'guide' I tipped, and when I gave him 100 rupees which is half the ticket price, he called me cheap! I was indignant. Hell, I shouldn't have to tip anyone when I pay an exorbitant entry fee compared to locals. 200 for foreigners and 200 again for the museum. That's western price of $4 which I suppose isn't much, but still, the fact that that is the minimum and I'm expected to pay more in tips is unfair. The locals pay 10 rupees to get in by comparison. He also wanted to know if that was the only place I tipped, and it was, which I suppose means I'm stingy, despite all the other obliging but unwanted 'guides' (ticket checkers/caretakers). I wonder what other nationalities/travellers refuse to pay.

Then, to make me feel even more sad, a souvenir seller asked me as I was walking down the path if i'd like to buy real relics. I told him they belonged in a museum. How self righteous of me!

Lahore 2

2008-10-17T18:52:00.003+05:00

There's nothing like a new country to throw your beliefs and life into turmoil. Being in Pakistan is like being in Myanmar all over again, but without the acquired apathy. The poor are so much poorer here, and the people are so much more aggressive. Mum called them 'bolshie' and it absolutely fits. They challenge me. They make me take a hard look at what I believe, what I do when I encounter challenges, and how I respond to people in general. I really am such an awkward defensive person when I first meet people. I'm abrupt and rude and want my space.

Tonight I left a friendly guy and a rickshaw driver on the street while I went up to dinner all alone. Upstairs there was a lovely Canadian girl who invited them to share her plentiful meal. I felt so ashamed of myself. I would have loved the company and I can certainly afford it so it's not that. Sure I don't want to be the sucker providing the free meal but they turned out to be very generous and helpful although of course grateful for the free meal. A contradiction. Why am I so defensive? I remember meeting an amazing lady in Morocco who said she cannot fear people... Why do I? Am I being cautious? Where does cautiousness end and snobbery begin?

Men talking to me constantly, hooting everywhere I go, rickshaws stopping and blocking my path, begging to take me, even for free. One man followed me, and everyone looks at me! Like the jolt of going over a bump on the wooden seat of a rickshaw. Bump! Think! React! What do you think! What do you believe? Which prophet do you believe in? What do you think of Pakistanis ? Are they aggressive., welcoming, nice, obnoxious? Etc etc. I love this... I love to be forced to look at myself.
--------------------
There are some amazingly interesting people in the dorm I'm staying in... Moroccan, Swede, Slovak, South African, German, French. Amazing people!! The Swede was excited to buy porn, which is just as sickening as Lonely Planet writer I met in Myanmar who was excited to get a photo of a monk giving the finger.

One was a cyclist living on $150 a month, and who lived on less than $1 a day in Africa. These people are doing things with their lives. Sure it doesn't help humanity but it does challenge themselves. What do I do? I live in Baku where the biggest challenge is which bar, which restaurant. I should learn Russian. Will I meet a nice man? I am so superficial... We all are. I want to do more. I want to be more. I know I inspire some people, but I want t to do more. I want to leave a legacy... Then again,, I am also quite satisfied with my life and if I died tomorrow and I will be okay with it... As Zeeshan says... He cannot live in fear. Fate is fate and you can live smart but life happens. I want to be an amazing person. I know I am an amazing person, but I know i'm not even close to my potential. I want to be more!
--------------------
Everyone is so religious here. The religiousness surprises me. Speaking of beards... is it a real sign of conservatives or not? Malike said it was a sign of avoiding hassle... of convenience for them. There was a movie on bus... a big shoot em up... but it was also followed by a documentary of young mullahs and conservatives. Two women had prayer books and chanted the whole bus ride. Women ride only at the front of course.

Lahore

2008-10-17T12:28:00.006+05:00

Lahore's a fun city! It reminded me a lot of Yangon, which I suppose is evidence of their history and economic status! In Lahore, I wandered around like I've been warned not to in Islamabad, and that was so freeing! I was feeling a little bit stifled, but I suppose it's all wise if you live here. [This pic is the Pakistan Monument in Islamabad]

I went to Cookoo's restaurant high above the fort and the Badshahi Mosque for dinner, then wandered back amongst all the street stalls and squalor. Shady men followed me and I did my best to deter them by entering shops! Autorickshaws are aplenty, and several were happy to take me home, even for free because I'm such a novelty. Poor Pakistan to be so desperate for tourism. [View from Cookoo's]

After a fitful sleep in a very cheap hostel ($2 a night! Backpacker style!) I explored the Old Fort - an enormous rambling monstrosity of palaces and eras. It was tragically in very poor repair, and many of the more interesting areas were, of course, blocked off. Particarly memorable were the elephant's walk (where a special giant staircase was constructed so that they could waltz right into the palace with the numerous royal ladies on their backs), the hall of mirrors (just beautiful! it was what I imagined the hall of mirrors at Versailles was like, but wasn't).

After some brief rains, I walked through the thriving, modern old city, with it's confusing narrow streets and bazaars and mud everywhere! The crumbling Mosque of Wazir Khan was stunningly derelict, with beautiful mosaics and a lovely deserted courtyard. [This photo is from an ancient city near Islamabad]

I ended the afternoon by a wander around the tombs of Jehangir, Asif Khan and Nur Jahan. A huge, 180 room, single-level Caravanserai split two of the tombs in an enormous courtyard filled with lovely gardens and trees.
For dinner, I ventured into the newer part of town, MM Alam Road, where all the rich and no doubt expats, too, do their dining away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

What an alive place!

Buses in Pakistan

2008-10-17T12:23:00.003+05:00

On Tuesday, I took a fancy Daewoo bus from Islamabad (Rawalpindi in actual fact) to Lahore. Wow! What service! Headphones, snacks, drinks, newspapers, movies. I suppose when you're paying almost $10 for a 4 hour ride, which is so above local prices, you have to get some bang for your buck. The security amused me incredibly--a man got on the bus just before departure, and filmed everyone's face with a video camera. I suppose this is so we know for sure who's on the bus if it gets blown up - for the sake of both perpetrators and victims!

Islamabad sights

2008-10-16T12:29:00.000+05:00

On Monday, I did the royal tour of Islamabad. There isn't really a lot to see since the city was only created in the 1960s. It's a pretty beautiful city however--broad, green, empty avenues, but I must say that does make it pretty unexciting! It almost has a bit of a provincial feeling... it's certainly small and unlike other Pakistani cities! The shops remind me a bit of Kuwait in their small town-ness!

We started the day searching everywhere to find a money changer that would be open, and after that, Iqbal drove me around past the forbidden places (the ones I'm not supposed to go to because they're so dangerous!), the Red (now very white) Mosque (unremarkable building, really) and Melody Market. Sure, lots of people in the streets, but otherwise, nothing unusual. I didn't get out of the car, however...

I did some shopping as well, buying way too many bed spreads and other things I really don't need!

I went to the Heritage Museum pretty early on. What fun! We had a power cut while I was inside, and too bad about the rest, because it was pitch black in there, and it was all I could do to find my way to the exit. Too bad about the 200% foreigner price that I paid--it's gone, and you have to pay for the toilet too! It was pretty interesting though... enormous halls filled with rather scary looking papermache dummies, and the random odd squirrel thrown in to ensure the taxidermists had something to do! There was an interesting Azerbaijan section in the middle of central asia... obviously the Azeri embassy here felt it necessary to promote themselves with a donation of tourism books, although the carpets were a nice touch!

We then drove up to the new Pakistan Monument. Reminded me a lot of the Armenian Genocide Monument in Yerevan, although I'm sure they'd be horrified at the similarity! A large, rather ostentatious white and red marble monument to the creation of Pakistan and their provinces. It did have a lovely view over the city however!

I tried to find the Beni Imam shrine, but of course the entire area is around where the Marriot blast was, so it is completely blocked off with police checkpoints and blockages.

We drove past the huge Faisal Mosque (which I was amused to read had spurred several rumors of the CIA checking out the bomb-shaped minarets in case they were real bombs!). I didn't feel like going in, but I was astonished to discover that women were walking in with bare arms although they hadn't covered up their heads at that point either, but didn't have anything that could possibly cover their arms either!

We drove into the Mullah hills for a quick dinner of Chicken Tikka and lovely sunset views. What an amazing road!!

Load-shedding

2008-10-15T14:37:00.001+05:00

In Pakistan, when the power goes out, it's called load-shedding. In the Philippines where it was always sticky and warm, it was, appropriately, a brown-out, while in New Zealand and I think other places, it's just a black-out. What a colloquialism!! What a stupid idiom!! At least there is something here that's organized about it--each district gets exactly 6 hours off, but not all at once. For example, Cathy's house has it off from 1 to 2, 6 to 7 and 10 to 11, both morning and night. Unfortunately, you only get to know your own district....

I was at the Islamabad heritage museum, which is really quite extensive, though bizzarely organized. Half way through, of course, what happened? Load-shedding time! It was pitch black inside except for the cracks under the doors to the outside.

In Lahore, they have load-shedding every hour, so one hour on, one hour off. Of course Islamabad is better as it's the capital! This season's not too bad, but it must be unbearable when it's hot. They're also saving on the electricity, so the beautiful night lights at the mosque weren't running!

Islamabad

2008-10-13T07:16:00.002+05:00

Arrived in the dead of night to an expectedly packed airport - lines of tangled groups towards distant immigration lines. Saw one family of Afghans with Canadian passports, all born in Kabul, the son confused as to whether his nationality was Afghan or Canadian. Huge crowds around the bag carousel and outside--my friend the only pakeha face in the lot. Lots of people for such a late night, but it's like Baku in the sense that everything comes in at the dead of night, so is to be expected!

Went aroudn the city a little bit yesterday - some brief shopping then lunch in a local restaurant (this is a rare thing to do since the Marriot blast). The city is a rolling campus of trees and greenery and wide, divided roads with (so far) very few cars on them. Since it's a designer city, it's in large square quadrants, with a little local set of shops in each. Haven't seen any high rises yet, or even any crowds, but am venturing out today! I have been given a list of places that I'm forbidden to go. The hills in the distant are brown and mottled, but add a lovely touch to the city--oh, to be so close to such walking trails!

Darling Samila? Samira?

2008-10-07T00:17:00.004+05:00

Here's the lovely Dubai cat that comes when called, cuddles all night, but is righteously still a cat and will tell you off if you pet her too much. I love the fact that she climbed into my suitcases, but at least there was no ham to be eaten there like friends who were stocking up to return to Kuwait! Kitty, I'm coming! I'll be there on Friday night!

Walking home from work

2008-10-07T00:09:00.003+05:00

So these images are on the walk home, very close to the school grounds in the garbage heap that is the empty lot (in fact, you can see the school in the background behind the long wall!). Take a look closer and see how many animals you can find foraging for food. It was crystal clear when I took it, but somehow they blend in very well. Lets see, I can find: 2 goats, 2 cats, a chicken and a dog (somehow, I remember there being more).

Added photos below.

2008-09-09T18:29:00.001+05:00

I've just added some photos to my Belarus posts below. Enjoy!

Thoughts

2008-08-26T13:28:00.001+05:00

Over the weekend I had the interesting experience of eating both green cheese and green ice cream. The former was pesto-laced and absolutely delicious, and the latter I’m still trying to figure out, although I suspect it to be pistachio. Only in Baku...

My new cleaning lady began today. Wow! What a lot to get used to! I do believe she rearranged my entire home. I haven’t found a single cupboard that is in its original state. The control-freak Virgo in me is itching in aggravation—I am not a messy person by nature and there wasn’t a whole lot wrong with where I had it! My jeans shrunk in her 90 degree wash, and I’ve somehow managed to spend $25 on three bottles of used cleaning supplies. She threw out my one week old sponge and dish cloth, but the place is spotless. I will admit that many of her rearrangements were ingenious, but it does bug me when she begins to go through my fridge and throw out the floppy cucumbers, no matter how much it needs doing. Here goes my over-independence rearing its head. I hate to think that I can’t take care of myself, and she really isn’t helping!

Movement of people

2008-08-24T14:48:00.002+05:00

I'm finding the ethnic diversity here in Baku absolutely amazing. There are people from all over the former Soviet Union who call this place home. Uzbeks, Kazakhs, Tajiks, Poles, Ukrainians, etc, etc. Most of them now have Azeri passports, and while I haven't really gotten into the culture enough to know how the true Azeris feel about this (I remember in Uzbekistan it was very contentious), surely because they have Azeri passports, they have become Azeri and accepted in most senses. Most speak only Russian, as opposed to Azeri, but they truly consider this fascinating place home.

This was an interesting cultural event, really. I know it happened in several waves. It must have been at the turn of the century when the oil was peaking, and then again in the 1960s, although I'm not a hundred percent certain. What is true is that when they were moving, they were moving within the same country, just as an American moves from the east coast to the west coast, yet their cultures are quite distinct, just as the American South is from the North or from the Midwest. Here they are probably more distinct, and it makes for such an amazing polyglot of people--blondes with curly curly hair to Arab-looking men with long conservative beards. They all call this place home!

Baku settling in

2008-08-17T23:20:00.004+05:00

I've been in Baku for just over a week. Things have been super hectic as we've had meetings, groupings, partnership work and other classroom preparation. I'm not at all close to being ready to teach yet as MYP is really quite a complex system, but still have two days of orientation to go. I still want to add pictures and other blogs to this, but it will have to wait till I have time!

I'm really loving Baku--it's such an interesting city! For fear of sounding like a guide book or a tourist promotion agency, I'll try to tone it down!! The Old City is beautiful. There are typical medina type winding cities like across the arab world. The majestic walls with renovated turrets line the edges, and the buildings range from being decrepit (and picturesque) to new and fashionable. At the bottom side is the Maidens Tower and a maze of layers of old ruins. Expensive restaurants with interesting red lamps and rooftop views shine across the courtyards.

Outside the old city are the turn-of-the-century oil boom mansions, and other buildings no doubt built by Russia in it's wealthy hey days. They've had a century of neglect, but are being slowly spruced up to look very majestic in their cream stone and carved awnings. I live downtown in a shabby but quaint appartment on the pedestrian Nizami Street, quite near to Fountain Square, where in the evenings, dressed-to-the-nines couples, families and many young men strut around to see and be seen, in front of the McDonalds and other foreign imported shops.

I'm absolutely appalled by how expensive everything is here! Everything has to be flown in, no doubt, and the price reflects it. Can you imagine it being normal to pay $1 for a normal plastic coat-hanger or $100 for a simple metal rubbish bin? These are just two examples, but it does seem as if everything is overpriced. Even the little stall on my street selling Chinese handbag knockoffs are overpriced, and they're the cheapest thing in town. Thankfully, right now (before Ramadan), it's the middle of sale season, so everything is marked down to 30, 40, 50, 70 percent off, which thankfully, brings things back to more realistic (but not really cheap) prices. The internet is costing $300 just to connect and the satellite TV is at least $150. Is that overpriced or have I been living in dirt-cheap South East Asia for too long and I've lost the sense of reality?

If that's not bad enough, I think the local boys use my stairwell as their urinal, and it annoys me very much. The cleaner spent three days last week cleaning it up from the last incident, but I really would rather not have to get a combination lock because that would be such a hassle for all in the building as well as myself! At least I have a light there now and don't have to use my torch to go up the stairs! That probably sounds really horrifying, but you must understand that it's characteristic of all formerly-Soviet countries that a stairwell should be the most horrifyingly-ugly, phobia reaction-inducing places in existance.

The thing I have to say that I love the most about Baku, though, are the cats. Not just the fact that they are here, but the fact that everyone in Baku seems to be a cat lover and they really take care of them. I have to smile when I see a little old lady reach into her handbag to pull out a little fish for one! It was like it was a cartoon. There is always a little tub of water and cat nuts sitting in a pile around every corner, and none of the kitties look malnourished. They are friendly and cuddle up to me often (which I just love). I'm tired of skittish cats than run away from a pet and a hug, but these ones just climb into my lap and purr! I just don't know yet if I want one of my own...

From Baku

2008-08-11T23:08:00.005+05:00

Am sitting here with a free evening after days and nights filled with events! Things are going very well here--I'm amazed at how fast timehas flown!

I had a crazy flight over through Belarus. At Gatwick, I was unfortunate enough that they weighed my two handcarry bags, so I had to pay 50 pounds in excess, but really that's not bad for all the flying I've done this summer, and they did want me to pay 170, so I was lucky. Minsk doesn't really know how to deal with transit passengers that are not Russia or Belarusian, so when I arrived and had asked several people where I should go (and they had passed the buck by telling me to wait in hopes that someone else would deal with me) I was escorted upstairs to wait by myself in the tiny departure lounge (where not another soul joined me, and not a single shop nor restaurant was open (though they weren't open when I departed a week earlier, either)! Nearing departure time I was herded through the airport because I had no visa but had to re-check-in. My handcarry was given back to me to avoid further excess baggage charges!! I then managed to somehow arrive into Azerbaijan without getting a visa, bizzarely. Wondering about it, I was told we'd worry about it the next day (as it was already 3am and we all wanted to just get to sleep). It was later sorted out, so I am not here illegally, anymore.

I like my new appartment alot, but when others complain, it's so easy to add your own woes to the pile, minor though they may be! The best thing is that I have a lovely balcony overlooking the main pedestrian street right in the middle of central downtown. It's going to cost $250 to connect to the internet, which is not so good, but that's just how it is here. I found a dialup card at the phone card shop today, but it's a bit slow!

All the new singles bar one live in town, but divided into two groups, E and W of the central fountain square. E typically have views, but W are closer to central downtown. I'm in the W. I'm interested to see what will happen as the year progresses. Everyone is quite concerned about the situation in Georgia, but I really don't think that it will have a big impact on Azerbaijan unless the pipeline is greatly affected.

Haven't even been in my classroom for more than a few seconds as we haven't had time to blink because things are happening all the time. Time is absolutely filled with workshops, meetings, and other things like getting an official BP ID card!! In the evenings we are wined and dined across town! It's a very long orientation (almost two weeks), but still haven't done heaps, so I suppose it'll be just enough. Hopefully we'll open a bank account tomorrow, and get some time to sit and get things in order. No sign of a car yet!

Am loving the city--it's grown and developped a lot from what I remember from being here in 2004, but am still recognizing the main landmarks. I keep thinking of more things the more time I spend here! There's lots to explore. I look forward to having visitors in my first ever spare room!

Anyway, must go and do some school work and catch up on all that I'm way behind on! Will send more news soon!

Huge Apologies

2008-07-31T14:04:00.002+05:00

Just wanted to say sorry to those who get aggravated when I post many things at once... I just posted three weeks worth because I've been camping in the wilds and had no electricity nor internet. I tried to get it up earlier this week but of course blogger wouldn't work for me. Will post more soon and get the pics up to match!!

Right now, I'm off to the Belarus State Museum of History and Culture.

P.S. I'm sitting in a cool internet cafe under Lenin Square!

Natalya Posted July 31

2008-07-27T14:03:00.001+05:00

You'd think that being in the land of Natalyas, people would finally
start getting my name right instead of calling me Natalie or Natasha.
It's ironic, though, how ingrained one name is to a language, and so
because the Belarusians have both a Russian and Belarusian form of
their name, the fact that my name really is Natalya escapes them. I am
consistently called Natalie, which to me is the most bizarre form of
cultural exchange. They think: she is a foreigner, therefore she must
have a foreign name.

Belarusian Weekend 2 – Berezinski Biosphere Reserve Posted July 31

2008-07-24T14:03:00.002+05:00

For the second weekend, we hired a van to drive us to the nearby
Bjarezinski Biosphere Reserve to stay in a hotel there and enjoy some
civilization (mainly in the form of hot showers). A tiny little
village yielded all our entertainment – it was great to bike around
and see storks in chimneys, cats asleep on benches outside the
beautifully painted houses (which is quite a new phenomenon, but
certainly a lovely one). The small zoo had a beautiful European Bison,
a very sad looking bear, some wolves, deer and other small animals in
the expectedly small enclosures.

After an afternoon of simple "insideness" and electricity (i.e.
computer usage for me), although the hotel did offer to rent us
skipping ropes and hoola hoops, I went to explore the "magazin" shop.
Everything here is still bought across the counter (such a complicated
procedure with no knowledge of Russian!), and I was quite amused to
have my baked sweets priced by weight. I am missing the ability to buy
non coke drinks—everything, even water, is carbonated! We really are
in a relic of the past, but what is quaint is that people have not
demanded the changes you might have expected elsewhere, such as in the
Baltic. The hotels, even the new ones built in the last 15 years, all
look like the spartan boring Soviet Intourist ones, with long hallways
with artificial carpets and serviceable but certainly not fashionable
furnishing.

The museum across the street has to be one of the best museums I've
ever seen—for taxidermy. It was extensive, but I do find it incredibly
ironic that in a biosphere, the museum with the biological species are
all dead ones! It's certainly not politically correct to have such
places in the west, but here in Eastern Europe it is a perfectly
acceptable form of education. Personally I can't say that I have a big
problem with it because it's certainly quite handy to see examples of
all the wildlife without disturbing their habitat! The outside was
beautifully decorated with the traditional totem-pole like carvings
that are quite common in the villages around here.

--------
I washed my socks tonight. These are two pairs I've been wearing for
most of the past two weeks. The water was black for three washes. I
turned them inside out and scrubbed my hands as if with sock gloves, I
twisted and turned and scrubbed and squeezed, and even after four
thorough washes, they're still black. This was the point where I
decided that I'd had enough washing, and despite still having a faint
whiff of sweat and dirt, they would do for another week, at which
point I will have to ask dear mum to reinstruct me on how to use
bleach. God, I miss a washing machine!

Pics: Bison, Train, Museum statues

Week 2 of Dig Posted July 31

2008-07-22T14:02:00.002+05:00

The second week of digging commenced relatively uneventfully, but we
certainly can't seem to get any decent weather as "Wednesday" (it was
actually Sunday) was a day we spent the whole day at camp instead of
at the site because we had so much rain. It was my cooking day, and so
I made burritos—yum. Several people asked what's needed, and here's a
brief description of why it was so special: Tortillas need flour,
water, oil, and a pinch of salt, but also it is required that they be
rolled with a beer bottle that has had the label rain cleaned. Flies
and dirt are optional but certainly make extra seasoning. For the rare
Vitebsk bought beans, they must be campfire cooked (so including ash,
yellow river water, whatever strange seasoning the shop had – reading
labels should not be attempted) slowly next to the rice (a whole,
packet, why not??), also on the fire. Sticks must be used as pot
holders and if the pot is not covered with burnt charcoal dust then
they will not have that delicious taste necessary for a true camping
feast. Don't forget the sour cream!

We did some more drawing this week, which is really quite prescribed.
I found a fantastic fish knife with a hole in it, which we are not
sure what the true purpose is for, but there have only been one or two
other similar items found anywhere in the region. We also found a
couple of really cool teeth pendants, which are easy to mistake for
just teeth (which I still find just as cool) because of the caked
dirt. Lots more flint scrapers (to the point where we don't even find
them interesting anymore), and I must say that I am quite sick of
pottery clusters (i.e. pots that have fallen in one place and broken
into many shards). They are tedious to brush off, and slow down the
process enormously, plus they are so completely delicate that getting
a complete piece out is a trial. But seriously, it's a joy to be
finding so much—I feel honored to have found the most field objects of
anyone, but that's simply because I picked the busiest square.

When a new volunteer arrived for the "weekend" (read, the real
weekend, but our mid week), he brought with him a volleyball which he
proceeded to blow up and invite all to play with him. Luckily, the
machines and men clearing the fields for hay had flattened the area
surrounding the campsite that very day. Honestly though, when we went
out at dusk for a casual pass around, I spent more time swatting
mozzies than hitting, and I swear I killed as many of the apparently
genetically inferior beasts (so easy to kill) as I passed the ball.
Miserable pests, they are! Whoever invented those was obviously in a
bad mood.

After all the crazy rain of the past few days, we discovered our
"bridge" has now become submerged. Still, crossing the precarious
structure saves us at least 20 minutes, so we are still game to cross.
On Thursday, it was my turn to make a sacrifice to the rain gods—I
fell in. I guess I was getting too cocky and crossing too quickly, but
the wooden logs rolled and I was in the water up to my waist before I
even realized I was falling in. Luckily, I had on my quick dry pants
so I had cleared every drop by lunchtime—just in time for the walk
home and a humble apology to the bridge and rain gods again!

The highlight of our week, though, has to be the shop on wheels, the
"auto magazin" which plies the villages with produce a couple of times
a week. We line up for our chocolate bars, bread, pickles and other
odd items, and of course, the archaeologist's staple item: beer.

Pics: Shop on wheels.

Belarusian Weekend 1 – Polatsk and Vitsebsk Posted July 31

2008-07-17T14:02:00.002+05:00

Multiple Lenin Statues!!

The first major outing from the site was on the "weekend" (calendar
days Wednesday and Thursday, but it's easy to forget that when you
started the week on a Friday not a Monday). Five of the foreigners and
one lovely Belarusian lady, Sasha, piled onto several buses to reach
Polatsk, the most ancient city in Belarus (first mentioned in 862).
There, we were met by a local archaology professor and many of her
hospitable students, who took us on a walking tour of town. We passed
the center of the world monument, another monument to the letter "w"
(the only letter that Belarusian has different from Russian, and I
suppose when you lack a strong identity, it's important to grasp at
anything to be proud of!), the town's Lenin statue, the place where a
cathedral once stood, the ancient riverside street (which reminded me
of Arrowtown, a riverside town in New Zealand), and the ancient
cathedral. We saw the merging of the river Dvina River and the Polata
Creek, and admired the ancient Pagan stone upon which the lovely
ancestor Prince Boris decided he needed to mark with a cross (but
which is still sought after for fertility blessings). They took us to
see the university (which reminded me a lot of Akhawayn in Morocco
because of its newly renovated-ness) and their dig next to a
fascinatingly decrepit deserted house.

The next day (after getting an internet fix, and discovering all sorts
on financial pains in the arse), we headed in the rain to the next
town of Vitsebsk, another ancient city, which also happens to be Mark
Chagall's birthplace. We tried to find his art museum, but ended up at
his old house instead. It was barely two rooms, and certainly a
wake-up call to the living standards in this area. I find Belarus'
history quite fascinating. How can such a huge place (half the size of
Poland!) exist that so few people know about? It was the area where
almost all of the Russian Jewry came from (as they were restricted to
this area), and has passed hands from the ancient Rus of Kiev, to the
Grand Duchy of Lithuania, to Poland to Hitler to the Soviets and now
independence! It really is right in the middle of Europe. The two
towns we visited were actually part of Russia, yet with such large
Belarusian communities, so they were added to the new Belarusian
Soviet Socialist Republic when it was created in the 1920s and 30s.
Amazing!!

Pics: letter w monument, lenin statues-beshankovich, vitsebsk,
polatsk, learner sticker, decrepit house, Chagall statue

This is an interesting "learner driver" sticker.... required everywhere!

Quick news from Belarus

2008-07-17T12:06:00.002+05:00

I've been out of touch in a campsite in rural Belarus for the last week, and I'm heading back there this afternoon, and I don't have much time to tell all about what I've been doing but wanted to send a quick update!!

I'm on a dig near Beshankovich (between Minsk and Vitsebsk) where we're looking at a stone age peat bog site. On the first day I found an amazing Amber pendant and another digger found a flint axe. Very exciting! We've had crazy thunderstorms (thankfully, my tent is just superb!). Also interesting are the microflints, arrowheads and other cool stuff we've found. I'll try and post more soon, but internet is nowhere near the site, so it may be three weeks or so!

Bombs Posted July 31

2008-07-12T14:01:00.003+05:00

Did you know there were two bombings in Belarus a month or so ago? It
probably didn't make big news, although when my mum saw it she had to
ask me why something dangerous always had to happen in the places I
went to! Belarus has had nothing happen for so long, and then I decide
to go there. Anyway, it was on independence day just before I arrived
here. The government has blamed the opposition groups, but of course
they are certainly not inclined in that way, or even that well
organized, united or so well-equipt, but that did not prevent several
arrests from various (of course, random) factions. This led to several
protests against the arrests, where the protest leaders were beaten.
When the leader took it to court, the police argued that of course
they didn't do it, and he beat himself up. All this because elections
are scheduled for the autumn. What a complicated way to dictatorship!

Camping Posted July 31

2008-07-12T14:01:00.002+05:00

When was the last time you went camping? There's something lovely
about going to sleep with the cicadas and seeing the sunset from a
tent. While cooking's a hassle, clean water's a nightmare and let's
not even talk about the showers, I must say the worst thing for me are
the Belarusian bugs. They jokingly said at the campfire that while the
1 ½ year military service does nothing but build homes for generals
now (or maintain their gardens), they don't really need a standing
army because the mosquitoes will do their job for them.

Snuggling in a sleeping bag, with 2 extra blankets and even a
mattress, in my warmest set of clothes got me through the second night
of misty cold. We have delightfully social communal meals and the
campfire is always lovely. The environment is disregarded as we bathe
in the river with soaps and chemical shampoos, and I've already
mentioned that the only thing that isn't burnable waste is a tin can.
It's amazing how I can have two so completely electricity-free
experiences in a year (after all, the beginning of this summer had no
electricity or running water in my home after the cyclone!).

Asaviec Posted July 31

2008-07-12T14:00:00.002+05:00

On "Tuesday" I wandered into the local village where we get our fresh
milk and well water from. It's about 20 minutes down the road, and has
the most amazing quaint painted houses with decorated windows. I
managed to disturb every dog in town, and alienate every snobbish cat,
although one skittish new mum let me pet her and her kittens. One lady
extensively invited me in for tea, and one lovely old man wanted to
give me a ride to the next village on his hay cart pulled by his
recalcitrant horse (which I was happy to refuse as it would have meant
a longer walk home, and I watched how the horse stopped half way and
refused to continue). I saw a dead grass snake and a live one, a dead
mouse and several other live farm like animals in the idyllic summer
existence, but I was horrified at the thought of the isolation that
must occur in winter, despite the twice-daily local bus to take
passengers into "civilization" (i.e.Beshankovic, the one shop town on
the main road). With snow piled several feet high, limited clearing of
roads, poverty, winds from the arctic, simple wooden cottages and
nothing going on, it must not be a fun season. Still, it is pleasant
to live a simple life, giving and getting directly from the land.

I took several photos of the beautiful windows they have here, and
have shared a few.

Pic: painted house, windows, outhouse

Belarus and week 1 of the dig Posted July 31

2008-07-11T13:59:00.004+05:00

After a very quick turn of Minsk, I have arrived at the dig site of
Asaviec 2 2008, near the town of Beshankovic (which translates to
'crazy town', while Asaviec is 'place of horror') on the highway
between Minsk and Vitebsk. So far the digging has yielded a fantastic
amber pendant and a small flint axe simply from the top soil. It looks
very promising! The dream is to find figurines. We are digging a 12
square meter trench and going down in 10cm increments. The site is
smack dab in the middle of a huge field of stinging nettle, so I have
reacquainted myself with the joys of nettle stings, which I'll have
you know, are strong enough to sting through pant legs!! The
mosquitoes and other vicious biting bugs are also good friends with
the site, so I lather myself with spray every time I go out. Oh, how I
wish I had my mosquito racket with me now! I do hope it survives the
journey to Azerbaijan, as it has been hell living without it. Several
campers also discovered ticks sucking on their juicy flesh, and after
removal were then sent to the doctor for testing, as we're in an area
of tick-borne encephalitis.

The foreign volunteers are a much more international bunch than those
in Romania, and the dynamics are quite different. We have one
Lithuanian, Mantas, one Dutch, Aulky, one Brit, Toby, myself, the
kiwi, and four Americans: Maureen, Lee Ann, Alec and Sam, not
forgetting Olya, the Belarusian-Canadian! Almost all are affiliated
with archaeology in some officially academic way, except me, of
course, and many are in the process of masters, so overall it's an
older group, and we all get along well. There are also two Belarusian
State University archaeologists on board: father and son, Michael and
Max, many Belarusian volunteer students, and the Belarusian
"first-years" many of whom are history students as everyone in the
entire department is required to complete a dig. Their English levels
vary and overall, they are a welcoming, friendly, social bunch. We had
a friendly campfire introduction early on this week, and sang songs
with the two guitars!

Camping has added another interesting element to the trip. The last
time I went camping was when I was still in NZ, so it's a been a long
time. I bought a camping shower because cleanliness was the thing I
was most worried about, but after one attempt, I have abandoned it, as
I got more bug bites than is seemingly possible, in all sorts of
unpleasant places, and finding a tree high enough to hang it from was
quite a trial! In terms of food, we have a rotating cooking schedule,
and without a fridge, this has led to interesting concoctions! Sour
cream plays a big part. Trash is interesting, and the idea of
environmentally conscious rubbish has flown out the window! We have a
burn pile and for a while I actually wondered about what I should and
shouldn't burn—aren't burning plastics a big no-no? Not here!
Everything goes on the pile! I have endeavored to keep the compost pit
free of plastic bags, which has been mostly successful, but I will
draw a personal line at attempting to keep the ladies from throwing
their pads in our dug toilet. Too much of a communication confusion,
not to mention cultural exchange!

The walk to the site from camp is around 20 minutes in the morning,
and we wander through a field of yellow flowers, which are apparently
used for some type of oil fuel. The Belarusian students built a bridge
across one of the small canals that was dug in the 1970s to drain the
peat bogs so that we can get to the site more easily. It's an
impressive structure of 4 logs! We also had a visitor this week—a mole
decided to dig a narrow trench through our trench.

I must say the rain here has been insane!! Why have I managed to take
this bad weather with me for so much of my trip? We had a huge series
of thunderstorms on Sunday evening, where at least 7 rounds of
whipping lightning-filled gargantuan storms passed over the camp
soaking us all and shaking every tent to breaking point. (I never
realized that you could repair a tent crossbar so many times, although
I have to say that the person who rigged an entire plastic tarp tent
on top of their other one has to have the best idea!). We also had a
quick hail storm and amazing fog drifting in on what proved to be a
freezing night!

Pics: Campsite kitchen, Hail, campsite in fog, bridge, dig site 2791,
yellow flower field

http://www.belarchaeo.com/

What to do in Belarus? Posted July 31

2008-07-10T13:58:00.001+05:00

I asked Olya to recommend the best things to see in Belarus. Mushroom
picking was high on her list, as were the castles, forts and forests.
Everyone says it is a relic of the soviet past, yet it really is
prosperous in many ways. How would I describe it? There are beautiful
rolling hills and forests, with quaint small towns, and generally,
space. I can see very clearly now why Poles, Russians, Belarusians,
Latvians and other eastern Europeans all chose to settle in the
Midwest and Canada as it really is very similar in climate and
landscape.

Outside of Minsk it's like one continual farm, with no fences and
livestock in large herds still tended by a shepherd. Collectives are
still very common and village-centered farming is the norm. The
government still owns all the land and country villages are extremely
poor but picturesque.

Belarus has a bit of an identity crisis which means than many will
identify with Poland, Ukraine or Russia more than Belarusian, and the
passivity from so many historical poundings means that the will to
fight for their Belarusian language and identity is limited. Teaching
about wars against Russia is illegal, despite the fact that 2 in 1
Belarusians died, which is twice the number of WWII when 4 in 1 died.
The president hates Belarusian language and culture and is notorious
for not being able to even speak the national language—instead
speaking an uneducated creole of sorts called treshanka. Under the
Soviet Union, no military service would be undertaken in one's own
republic, which is why so many Belarusians fought in Afghanistan and
Chechnya, rather than protecting their own people. This was done so
that if shooting against the population needed to occur, the "foreign"
troops would be less hesitant at protecting the populace as they
didn't identify with them. An effective oppression system, really.

The dig is a fascinating site—a Neolithic peat bog just like the
amazing bog-men collection I saw in the Dublin museum, except that no
bog men have been found in Belarus. The site has been excavated
several times over the last 100 years, but unfortunately, one
archaeologist was executed for being an "enemy of the state", and many
of the items found not to mention journals and records from before
WWII were of course destroyed completely when Minsk was completely
flattened by bombing. Many things changed in the 1970s when the
government put in a huge melioration project of canals which drained
the bogs and marshes. The second dig, which unfortunately I can't go
to, is of a flint mine, which would also have been amazing. Because
Belarus is on the front lines for so many wars, there are so many
possible sites. In fact, Olya was saying that very near the dig site
was the area of the biggest tank battle of World War II and several
planes went down in the bogs which children use as playgrounds now!
Many sites have been gone over with people using metal detectors, but
when they find someone, they tend to just strip the treasure and leave
the body, instead of helping to create some kind of memorial. As it's
a crossroads from Sweden to Ancient Greece, there are many trade route
treasures to be found!

What are you afraid of?

2008-07-09T01:08:00.001+05:00

http://www.wired.com/culture/culturereviews/magazine/16-07/pl_print

This was a really interesting quiz... I knew when I was doing it that it wasn't supposed to be as you'd expect, but what you expect is not always what you expect! :)

Latvia - people you meet

2008-07-08T16:07:00.003+05:00