• About
  • BeyondOverton Travel
    • Silk Road (1): If Turkey is in crisis, it’s not obvious visiting it
    • Silk Road (2): Could beautiful nature and ancient history create a false sense of entitlement?
    • Silk Road (3): Fast Car
    • Silk Road (4):We took a bus ride to Iran
    • Silk Road (5): Border bothers
    • Silk Road (6): Chevrolet Land
    • Silk Road (7): Free-roaming camels and wild horses
    • Silk Road (8): China West to East
    • Silk Road (9): I have not told half of what I saw
  • BLOG
  • g88kboy Travel
    • On the Silk Road
    • Bulgaria : The Chicken crossed the Road
    • Turkey : The Country, not the Bird
    • Georgia on my Mind
    • Armenian Ayran
    • Iran – The Curious Land
    • An American in Azerbaijan
    • Uzbekistan: Golden Teeth and Neon Signs
    • Kazakhstan: Thirty Sweating Seniors
    • China Part One – Pandas Are Extinct
    • China Part Two: My TED Talk (Deep Analysis)
    • Phillipines – They Relax, I (pretend to😉) Study
    • Singapore: flashing trees and a torrent of tears
    • Malaysia: That ain’t no croc, it’s a log
    • Brunei: The Instinctive Fight for Superior Domination
    • Phillipines: Hello Friend Again
  • Outside the window
    • Bulgaria
    • Turkey
    • Georgia
    • Armenia
    • Iran
    • Azerbaijan
    • Uzbekistan
    • Kazakhstan

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Monthly Archives: September 2018

Silk Road (3): Fast Car

30 Sunday Sep 2018

Posted by beyondoverton in EM, Travel

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Armenia

“You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won’t have to drive too far

Just’ cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living.”

~Tracy Chapman

I am not sure if Armenians are ‘worse’ drivers than their Georgian neighbors or, actually, ‘more skilled’, considering the incredibly poor state of their transportation infrastructure. The road leading to the Georgian-Armenian border indeed is only one lane and once past it, it becomes one of the worst major roads I have been on so far. Avoiding the humongous holes and the incoming traffic was an incredible feat (our driver even proceeded to overtake an ambulance whose lights and siren were on). We were duly stopped by the police a few kilometers after for speeding.

The driver’s skill was even more incredible considering that a lot of the cars in Armenia are beyond ancient: I have never seen so many old Soviet cars since I lived in Bulgaria in the 1980s. I think literally all the trucks we saw were ‘Zils’ or ‘Kamaz’. Funnily enough though, the Armenians seem to take a lot of pride in their cars. Indeed, our driver – who, despite the fact that we picked up the minivan at the Tbilisi bus station, his lack of spoken Russian and his abruptness, was Armenian – got really upset when we ate some chakapuri (bread with cheese) and a few crumbles fell on the floor of the car. He did not calm down even after we cleaned up everything. All this even though the minivan was an ancient Mercedes with worn-off interior and holes in the plastic dashboard.

The area along the border here is very mountainous but the landscape changes from plush, almost tropical in Georgia to arid, almost desert-like in Armenia (similar to the one around Kars in Turkey). The border crossing itself was very straightforward: modern and absolutely no queuing at all. The kids and Georgia were sitting in the back, while I was squeezed in between a lady with more bags than she could carry and a poker player with just a ‘man’s bag’ in his hand. Still, she asked me, and not him, to help carry one of her bags across the border (was she a ‘trader’ of some sort?).

We arrived in Yerevan under a scorcher. If the driver likes you he will stop anywhere you ask him too. I had developed a connection with the poker player, who was in Tbilisi overnight to play as he had been banned from all casinos in Yerevan, so he helped us get to our hotel. We found tennis in common with him: Andre Agassi, who, according to him, is an Armenian born in Iran and living in US (the lady thought that even Serena Williams is of Armenian origin!).

The old town of Yerevan is like Chernokonevo, the village upon which my home town, Dimitrovgrad, was built after WW2 – a few shanty houses. But unlike Dimitrovgrad, Yerevan is an ancient city with rich history and culture. All the wars and earthquakes must have put a heavy toll on this city. Maybe, this is why there is massive amount of construction going on, much more than I saw in either Istanbul or Tbilisi, or, in fact, in any European city. To see ancient Armenian churches and castles one has to go in the surroundings of Yerevan and across the border in Turkey.

In fact, Yerevan is very modern: there are a lot of art installations and monuments all over the city. But most of the architecture is still Soviet style. Yerevan is also very vibrant. While we were there it was full of street musicians, there was even a live concert of a Russian band, and the singing fountains in Republic Square were on every evening.

Armenian food is somewhat similar to Georgian – just slightly different versions of the same dish. I did not see the khinkali equivalent in Armenia though. And, of course, Georgian wine is out of this world. But I found Armenian fruits sweeter, especially the apricots (I am really gutted I did not try the Georgian watermelon, though). The Georgians have this ‘churchuri’ made out of dried fruits and nuts held together by grape molasses; the typical Armenian equivalent is to take the whole dried fruit and fill it up with nuts – both are absolutely outstanding!

As I mentioned before, we are doing this trip the backpackers’ way, meaning we use as much public transportation as possible. Turkey was perfect in that sense – very easy. Georgia was ok – we used the metro. But while there is more Cyrillic on the signs along the road in Armenia (than in Georgia) Yerevan’s metro is very small and the signs are only in Armenian. Therefore, we walked till, under 34C, at some point it became impossible. So, we took a taxi back and forth to the Armenian Genocide Memorial – it cost us less than $2 equivalent each way and both drivers were very pleasant and polite (I could communicate in Russian).

Having spent some time now also in Armenia, combined with our experience in Georgia, made me reflect on our expectations regarding the service industry and how it affects our views of a country and its people. In Tbilisi, the restaurant waiter may indeed have been less attentive according to our standards, but we felt very welcomed when we were invited to the house of our friend’s friend and treated to tea, coffee and fruits. In Yerevan, even though the hotel’s clerk was clueless when asked basic tourist information and she clearly didn’t seem to think it was part of her job description to help, the doorman kindly helped us.

It made me question whether the level of service we expect is linked to our culture. In particular, I guess, I was surprised at my own Western bias, considering I grew up behind the Iron Curtain. It made me wonder what possible hope we have to teach our kids tolerance and understanding of other cultures by any other means than travelling through them

Silk Road (2): Could beautiful nature and ancient history create a false sense of entitlement?

29 Saturday Sep 2018

Posted by beyondoverton in EM, Travel

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Georgia

The first thing that struck me in Georgia was the Toyota Priuses. I think that literally every third car was a brand-new Prius. That was in stark contrast to almost all other cars which were very run-down Opels, Fords, BMWs, etc. You could still see the old Soviet Lada, Jiguli and Volga too.

We took the ‘marshrutka’ (minibus) from the border to the rented apartment in Batumi. Needless to say, the exchange rate at the border was much worse than anywhere else in town, so apart from exchanging our leftover TRY and having enough (50 EUR cents = 1.5 GEL per person) to pay for the ride into town, no more money was necessary. The marshrutka itself was a leap into my past – the early 1990s in Bulgaria – I think the vehicle was even older than that. Moreover, it boarded at least twice the allowed capacity and our Turkish driver on the other side of the border was an angel compared to this Georgian one.

The second thing that struck me was that pretty much everyone was reluctant to speak Russian, regardless of age. The military conflict with Russia had left a big impression of some resentment but mostly bewilderment (“What possibly could the Russians want from us?”). The caretaker of the apartment where we stayed however, brightened up when I told him I am originally Bulgarian and gave us a very nice bottle of local homemade red wine.

Batumi has an impressive beachside boulevard where we spent our day strolling about and riding on mini-scooters. The scooters had their own designated lane but at 20-25 km/h they could still pose danger to the pedestrians who walked nonchalantly in the area: I presume this was part of the Georgian driving experience anyway. Hiring the scooters ‘broke’ our daily entertainment budget but that was an offset from the transportation budget from the day before (the ‘marshrutka’) and the free ride to the train station later which our host was nice enough to offer.

Apart from the popularity which comes with its name from the old Soviet times and the casinos which I presume tourists flock to, I am not sure what else Batumi has to offer though (BTW, again, the bid-offer spread in some exchange bureaus is less than 1%). Yes, the skyline looks impressive and even the modern buildings have a very nice style, which actually blends well with some of the older architecture still visible across. But the beach itself is large rocks and no sand at all: Kobuleti, a half hour drive East, has a better beach.

The train to Tbilisi is very modern with free Wi-Fi and outlets for charging devices. It is not as fast as Istanbul-Ankara, though, as it takes one hour more to cover 100km less in total distance. But then the mountainous landscape does not allow it. The ride immediately after leaving Batumi train station runs for several kilometers literally along the beach where there are still the old Soviet style (very rundown) blocks of apartments alongside some impressive villas. If the mountains on the Turkish side of the border reminded me of Switzerland, this side of the border looked much more like Costa Rica – almost tropical. And while the Turkish side has much more order and the houses looked generally nicer, everything looked rundown in Georgia.

Tbilisi, however, also has a touch of Italy when it comes to its old city (and, of course, the wine): it is a quirk combination of art, imposing buildings, beautiful natural landscape and historical artifacts. It is a city for romance, full of balconies (on a visit to the city during the Cold War, M. Thatcher allegedly said, “Everywhere else they are building shelters, you are building balconies”) and night lights – the stroll to the Sulphur baths is a must. In hindsight, actually, we should have stayed longer in Tbilisi to enjoy its full splendor.

We were very lucky to meet up with a friend of a friend who spent the whole day showing us the city and its surroundings. She was amazing, such a nice and positive person. Most Georgian people in the service industry, however, looked rather miserable and even bitter somehow. I am not sure whether it was my Russian that made them so. That attitude, which sometimes merged into outright rudeness, obviously will not help business: most tourists are Russian. And knowledge of any foreign language is a plus, especially one which is spoken by hundreds of millions of people (Georgia’s population, on the other hand, is just around 4 million).

While in Turkey, I fully expected to be bargaining when engaging in an exchange as part of custom. In Georgia, the bargaining felt as if it was more about not being taken advantage of. Our host in Tbilisi, for example, offered to charge $280 (4 people) to take us to Yerevan (5 hours drive) and lied how much the ‘marshrutka’ would cost ($50 per person), when the actual price was not only $13 per person but there was plenty on offer as long as someone bothered to go to the taxi stand at the bus station.

In the local street flea market my daughter’s leaning to touch an object provoked an extreme reaction by the shopkeeper – she yelled so violently that passers-by stopped to see what happened. In one shop there was even a sign in English that said “Customer is not always right”!

I am only guessing here, but all this could be related to a sense of entitlement, also very common in my home country, Bulgaria. Small countries like these, which are lucky to have amazing nature, are full of ancient history and once had very sophisticated culture, but which were more recently easily conquered by other more populous, but less ‘ancient’ nations, do maybe tend to feel superior and to blame external forces for their issues. In that sense, Georgia is both an old and a very new country at the same time: having gained its independence from the Soviet Union only a few decades ago, it still lacks the proper institutional infrastructure and framework to really make decisions in its own interest. It is naĂŻve to think that having exited one ‘union’, joining another would automatically solve all problems.

Before passing a real judgement about the way a traveler is treated in Georgia, however, I feel we need to complete our journey and revisit, under the light of new experiences, this first opinion I formed.

Armenian Ayran

28 Friday Sep 2018

Posted by g88kboy in g88kboy, Travel

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Sheese balls.

How Armenians try to translate to English is amusing.

Someone should tell them that it’s cheese balls. Let’s see how long it is before they realise the correct spelling.

I can easily summarise Yerevan in four words – the city of construction. You cannot miss the imposing cranes situated besides the crumbling houses or the buildings still in construction. There isn’t even an old city of Yerevan any more – builders have destroyed a part of it and the rest looks like barracks.

Apart from all the construction, the warm and welcoming atmosphere made Yerevan beautiful. There even was an extraordinary city fountain water display, with light and sound. However, I couldn’t enjoy the experience, because I had just broken my phone while walking there which left me very miserable for most of the day (and to make matters worse, later on I realised that I had left my jacket somewhere behind – given to me especially for the trip by a friend for my birthday) 😫😭.

Armenia is home to many precious and beautiful gems such as the piece I found below:

Yerevan has delicious food – including enormous Armenian pizza, my favourite so far. It was far different from Italian pizza. The dough was hard and crusty while it only consisted of one topping – groundbeef. I loved it so much, I had two of them. Also, I had no idea that ayran (diluted yoghurt) was popular in Central Asia, so it’s good news for me (I can now have ayran every day😏😄).

Our Armenian driver who took us from Tbilisi to Yerevan was even worse than the Georgian driver. It’s a relief that we all managed to arrive in one piece. His attitude didn’t help either. We were having chakapuri and some crumbs had fallen on the floor of the bus and when the driver saw, he went completely mental on us. The driver never told us we couldn’t eat in the bus. We even asked him if we could have breakfast and he agreed.

Anyway.

As part of my English studying, my mum asked me to write a sort of descriptive piece about Armenia… well, Yerevan. I had to include alliteration, onomatopoeia, personification, metaphor, simile, anolgy, satire and hyperbole. See if you can find them. So, here goes.

Armenian Aryan

While at times the sky turned grey and clouds rumbled , at others the sky was full of the scorching sun sending burning rays of light. In which case, the latter seemed the most appropriate opportunity to take a sip of Armenian aryan.

During the day, Yerevan was a transforming city – cranes creaked , metal clanked on metal and builders shouted out orders.

But during the evening, the whole city took a break and enjoyed their best works, including the miraculous fountain. The dancing water was an elegant ballerina, performing their best piece yet. The jet sprays were like fireworks – emitting a whole colourful display of noise and sight . The city was bursting with surprises and entertainment each day.

In contrast, the old city of Yerevan was empty. It was equivalent to your average abandoned park.

But Armenia, they really do have the best drivers. I mean, it’s rather safe for them to be going as fast as they possibly can and swerve around the corners at the last second, even if it is on the edges of a mountain. It makes sense why they should rock their buses or cars when attempting to go over the speed limit. I mean, they’re not breaking the law, right?

Talking of driving, the bus from Tblisi to Yerevan took forever to arrive. Let’s just hope we don’t need to say the same for the bus from Yerevan to Teheran.

Silk Road (1): If Turkey is in crisis, it’s not obvious visiting it

20 Thursday Sep 2018

Posted by beyondoverton in EM, Travel

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Turkey

One year after I left HSBC, and after more than 20 years in the business, I have finally left London with my family to seek other opportunities. We are currently on our land journey to Asia where we plan to relocate for the foreseeable future. That last one year in London went fast into organizing the trip, getting my tennis coaching credentials and actually enjoying time spent with the family. We even managed to squeeze in 6 weeks in our beach house in Italy!

We plan to follow the Silk Road as much as possible without taking any unnecessary risks by visiting certain places along the route. I am typing this at the moment from a very modern and fast train in the middle of Turkey but we started the journey in Italy, of course, the Marco Polo way, on September 1 and stayed for a few days in my home country, Bulgaria. The fact that my parents live one hour away from the Turkish border made the bus trip to Istanbul very easy and convenient. In fact, if it was not that the border crossing takes unreasonably long (due to the fact that Bulgaria is part of the EU and Turkey is not – the incredibly long queue of trucks is a stark warning to what perhaps awaits at the border between France and the UK after Brexit), using Ataturk Airport instead of Vrajdebna Sofia Airport might have been a more efficient option for most people living in Bulgaria close to the Turkish border.

Istanbul is as magnificent as always and as I remember it from visiting it on numerous occasions before both for work and pleasure. In fact, even more so because the ancient history and culture are very well blended with the modernity of the present times: public transportation (bus, tram, metro, ferry) is very efficient and much easier to navigate than many other European cities; getting tickets for attractions is straightforward; even the bid/offer spread in some foreign exchange bureaus is better than some professional retail platforms I used while trading for my own account in London this past year (BTW, best ones I came across are around the Spice Bazaar – that makes exchanging and using physical cash, still infinitely better than withdrawing local currency from a foreign based account or paying by credit card)!

The contrast between ancient and modern is indeed striking when it comes to religion. We were in a small barber shop in Besiktas in which the TV was showing scantily dressed women dancing provocatively on Turkish pop music while the mosque loudspeakers across the street were blaring the daily prayer. The locals in Istanbul still do not get dressed that much differently than the locals of any European Mediterranean country. Are there more women wearing burqas than what I remember from previous visits? I noticed the fully-covered ones but they were mainly in the touristic part of the city and I wonder how many of them were actually foreigners – in fact, London’s Knightsbridge has probably more of them than Istanbul’s Sultanahmet.

If Turkey is in crisis there is absolutely no sign of that in Istanbul… except that everything is much cheaper for a EUR/USD-based foreigner. And when it comes to the service industry at least, Istanbul is no different than London, for example: most of the personnel is foreign. Reality is slightly different than that, of course, for just like London is not a good representation of the UK, Istanbul is not one of Turkey either.

We crossed the whole country west to east all the way to the border with Georgia. We saw small villages and bigger towns. Especially in the villages we would struggle to see women who were not covered. Not the burqas that we know but the square headscarves. But then again, the reality is not that dissimilar in many villages in Bulgaria and even in some European Mediterranean countries: I feel this is more a question of generations’ customs than religion.

Our journey across Turkey was mostly by train. In fact, we are doing this trip the ‘old-fashioned’ way, the way I remember my school years: a backpack, hostels, and public transportation as much as possible. I want to see these countries not through the eyes of the Ministry of Finance or the central bank, which is the way we used to do it in the business, but through the people and their daily lives. I also want my kids to understand how privileged and lucky they have been so far.

Istanbul-Ankara was a modern, fast train with Wi-Fi and all the amenities. The train station in Istanbul, strangely enough, was just two tracks one hour away from the city center. Ankara’s one, on the other hand, was a modern spacious building, resembling more Heathrow T5, but right in the center of the city.

Ankara-Kars is an overnight train, slower and less modern (no Wi-Fi) than Istanbul-Ankara but better than London-Glasgow (friendlier service, fridge with complementary food and drinks and slippers!), for example (compared to when I last did that journey about 5 years ago). We used the time on the train to just look out and reflect. In fact, we did this for hours and we did not mind because it brought back memories from when we used to do that kind of travelling with our parents on long journeys. When I say ‘we’, I meant I and Georgia. Our kids’ attention span is infinitely smaller and their idea of entertainment profoundly different. Not that there was much of it (they do have to study on our trip) but they had to constantly be reminded to leave the digital distractions so easily available to them.

The one thing that stuck me while passing through the interior of Turkey was the heavy presence of the military: there are military barracks literally in every town we passed. Kars, itself has a few. We arrived late in the evening and while walking to the hotel we merged with the backpackers’ ‘crowd’. Kars is the eastern-most large city for visiting Georgia and Armenia (latter indirectly as the border is closed). There is heavy influence of either Armenian or (further northeast) Georgian culture. If you are looking for a financial or economic crisis, you are not going to see any traces of it in Kars either.

The drive to the Georgian border was through what I can best describe as the Switzerland of Turkey: the landscape changes from flat arid land to picturesque mountains literally immediately. The Turkey-Georgian border crossing would have been straightforward too if it was not for walking in no man’s land for half a kilometer under torrential rain (and make-up cover). By the way, the queue of trucks waiting to cross the border was at least twice longer than at the Bulgaria-Turkey border crossing.

Georgia on my Mind

17 Monday Sep 2018

Posted by g88kboy in g88kboy, Travel

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I would like to say that Georgia was named after my mum because it is a beautiful land. 😘 Shout out to my mum.

I particularly felt the landscape of Batumi was gorgeous. It was relaxing to ride along the Black Sea on a scooter by myself and seeing the futuristic-like buildings. This may be one of the places I will consider living in for some time. I already have an idea to own a nice house by the side of the Black Sea and to take out the scooter every morning.

I really liked Batumi. But soon enough, we were on a train to Tbilisi.

Both the apartments we rented in Batumi and Tbilisi while in a central area which looked so rundown that walking around didn’t make me feel safe. Thankfully, once inside, they were modern and nicely decorated. It made me wonder if they left the area to decay to turn away the robbers.I

Saying that, on arriving in Tbilisi I almost felt I was in New York again. It has tall buildings, wide lanes, lots of lights and car noise.

The next day, a friend of a friend kindly gave us a tour around, all the way from the old capital of Georgia to the best balconies with a view, and to old Tbilisi.

We also went to the Bath of the City which, although it reeked of rotten eggs (sulphur–which has healing properties), was also very elegant. At the end of it, there was a waterfall. This was very special, because what other city has a waterfall in its centre?

Flashback to our arrival, a few evenings ago. It was pouring. Literally. When we were in no-man’s land, past theTurkish border walking towards the Georgian border, the rain was so strong it made puddles on the ground. Security had to put planks of wood for people to walk on. And that was only indoors. Imagine outdoors.

Once we officially arrived in Georgia, we took a minibus to the apartment. The vehicle was packed, so we had to stand for half an hour. To make matters even worse, the driver was absolutely crazy. Italians are the worst drivers? Pfffff. Come to Georgia, people.

That’s the worst you can get, right? Nope.
We were drenched and we were wearing these waterproof covers, and they were drenched. We were all standing and I had to hold on for the sake of my life, to avoid being thrown across the minibus. One passenger, on her phone, sitting down, wanted me to move, because the waterproof cover kept going in her way. She didn’t ask me. She pushed me, although gently. I’m sorry, but I’m trying to hold on. I didn’t realise that your priority was scrolling through Facebook on your phone. Hmm. Selfish!

Turkey : The Country, not the Bird

14 Friday Sep 2018

Posted by g88kboy in g88kboy, Travel

≈ 1 Comment

Dude.

Animals need to stop crossing the road.

Seriously.

I witnessed a number of geese and cows (separately) crossing the road on our way to Georgia.

So, Bulgaria – two chicks and a rooster.

Turkey – several geese and cows.

What next? Pandas in China?

Talking of chickens, they keep showing up. It was devastating to see one squawking in the hands of a man taking it to the market😭.

Poor chicken 🐔.

But that was in Kars. Instanbul was beautiful. No doubt about that.

The picture above was taken at the fountain in front of Hagia Sophia, a former church which was destroyed twice, rebuilt and converted as a mosque after the fall of Constantinopolis. Now, Hagia Sophia is a museum.

Its neighbour, the Blue Mosque (named after the predominant presence of the blue and turquoise tiles) was the first mosque I have been in.

Once in Kars, we also visited an orthodox Russian-built church converted into a mosque – which makes it the only one with such architecture in Turkey – or so I’ve been told.

So by now I’ve reached the conclusion that I prefer mosques to churches. The latter are so serious and so quiet while the former are loud, playful and as a bonus, have comfortable carpets.

We also went to see the Basilica Cistern (an underground water cistern from the Roman times). It was quite creepy, walking through the passage surrounded by the dark. The music didn’t help either. To be honest, I didn’t really care about the building, but I was curious to see the two carved Medusa heads, of which the story still remains a mystery.

It was interesting to see the culture of Turkey through my own eyes.

For example, while I’m not a religious person, listening to the call of prayer from the mosques was satisfying to my ears.

Even more fascinating was watching two restaurants in a battle of convincing passers-by to stop and eat. I couldn’t help but feel pity for the vendors in the Spice Bazaar and the Grand Bazaar when my parents refused their offers, but both my mom and dad found that perfectly normal. They grew up in a Mediterranean environment, so they must have been used to it.

The same goes for the sight of all the homeless dogs and cats stranded in the streets. This was not a common sight in London and it was soon enough that I was informed of the ugly truth – a lot of animals found on the streets of London were slaughtered.

Probably though, the first amusing encounter to the foreign culture was already on the bus from Haskovo to Instanbul.

Approaching the border of Bulgaria, you could see a lane going for kilometres full of trucks waiting to get into Turkey, as shown below (my parents were commenting on how this will become a common sight on the UK/France border once Brexit happens).

The locals have thus found ways to trade making do without the red tape of customs. As you are allowed to bring one bottle of alcohol per person into Turkey, the bus hostess was then going around asking the passengers if they wouldn’t mind carrying a bottle each for her. The bus then duly stopped before the border at a big discount store to buy the extra alcohol 😂.

Other (very) relevant things about Istanbul were:

– Even as we approached with the bus we couldn’t help but notice the amount of mosques all around.

– I finally had my hair cut in Besiktas! We walked into a minuscule shop (2*0.5mt max) where the barber – sitting in a chair, scrolling through his phone, seemed relaxed . He did his job well.

– One day, we tried to take a ferry back to the hotel area. While no-one at the station understood English they gestured us into one when my father showed them our destination on Google Maps. It turns out the ferry was going in the opposite direction. We had no choice but to wait on the ferry till it came back to its departure point. By then there wasn’t a ferry that could take us back to Sultanahmet. On the other hand, this gave us a chance to see the Bosphorus up close at sunset. And it was really beautiful.

That was all our time in Instanbul. But we weren’t finished with Turkey yet.

We took a train from Instanbul to Ankara. The train was very modern with a secure WiFi connection, so we were equipped for the three hours ride ahead 😎.

This wasn’t the case for our next train, Ankara-Kars, which not only was clearly past its prime but also had no WiFi connection. This was a tragedy, considering we were going to be on the train for 25 hours. So we were going ‘old school’ .

But more of this later. First, a bit more about Ankara. We had only two hours before taking the overnight train. Still, we managed to explore the nearby park and fill our parents ears with the chant “It’s not fair! Take us to the fair!” (Gençlik Park has a big permanent amusement park).

We stopped, however, at a park cafe for gyuzleme, ayran, and ice cream. I finally tried Turkish ice-cream! It feels like bubblegum. Very elastic.

While eating, few children startled me by coming over to our table, pleading for food. I had never experienced that. I was surprised and sad. But it turns out this is quite a common practice in Turkey and does not necessarily mean that they are starving.

Indeed, later on, at one train stop, a huge crowd of children came running towards the train, literally on the tracks, asking for food, drinks, toys, anything. Passengers on the train actually started throwing snacks and drinks out of the windows (I saw one kid happily holding a massive bag of Doritos).

This reminded my father of his past. Since he spent his summers in the village of Dobrich (which is really close to the border with Turkey) some of his friends would go with their bikes to the gas station where Turkish trucks stopped. The drivers would gift them with all sort of items but particularly prized was a special type of chewing gum which would contain stickers of fancy cars. They were called ‘BeepBeep’ and the kids would collect them and trade them as a particularly prestigious possession.

But enough digressing, back to the overnight train. I was ecstatic at the sight of our room – a folding couch, a bed, a fridge full of complementary food and drinks and free slippers. The lack of WiFi meant me and my family looked around and reflected on our trip.

So, I, Eliano Tonev, am proud to say I survived a whole 25 hours without WiFi.

In Kars we arrived late and left early. We still clocked in few interesting sights (among others the Kars castle, which I recommend to be called the ‘Karstle’) before heading into a taxi and driving all the way to Georgia.

By the way, the longest word in Turkish literature is composed of 70 letters. We all tried to pronounce it in one go, but we couldn’t. Can you?

Whew. That is one loooooooooooong post.

Bulgaria : The Chicken crossed the Road

08 Saturday Sep 2018

Posted by g88kboy in g88kboy, Travel

≈ 2 Comments

Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?

A: To get to the other side.

I know, because I’ve seen it.

We were on our way back from Perpirikon, a temple erected to honor Dionysus (Greek form) / Bacchus (Roman form), God of Wine. A rooster🐓 and two chicks🐤🐥 were making their way across the road. They seemed to not like paparazzi, because they were going too fast for me to take a picture 😑. Hopefully, they will decide to pop out again during our road trip.

Flashback two hours before.

We stopped first by the Stone Mushrooms (and posed for pictures!) and later made our way up to the Perpirikon temple.

It was the Thracians who first built it around 3000 BC. When around the 7th century, a tribe called Bulgars came to the land of the Thracians (from the steppes of what is currently Kazakhstan – our road trip will go through there!) with never – seen before tamed wild horses, the Thracians were forced to sign a peace treaty with them. The temple remained and Perpirikon even holds traces of Roman construction.

While the sun was scorching and the ascent was steep, it was a beautiful view and it was fun climbing over the mismatched rocks.

Being in Bulgaria for a full four days also allowed my grandparents to teach me the Cyrillic alphabet, which not only was fun, but made the Bulgarian language a lot easier to read – considering this is the official alphabet of the country (try to read this: Елияно).

Baba and Diado have their very own orchard. When I first arrived in the village of Dobrich, I noticed a bunch of grapes my grandparents had grown, hanging from the trees. While walking around, I noticed all the growing apples, pears, peaches, plums, strawberries etc. That seemed a bit unusual to me. I realised how accustomed I was to city culture. I was so used to going to the shop and picking out fruit from there.

One evening, we made our way to Dimitrovgrad to visit the fair celebrating the 71st anniversary of the foundation of the town. My father grew up there before he left for university in America. Here’s a little interesting history.

Dimitrovgrad is the youngest city in Bulgaria, founded in 1947, named after Georgi Dimitrov, a communist leader. This was just after WWII ended. In the years that followed, a lot of places changed their names to honor famous Bulgarian communist leaders or events. When the Berlin Wall came down in 1989 and with that, the end of communism, all those cities converted to their previous names, except for Dimitrovgrad, as it had no previous name. The new government still wanted to remove any memories of communism, so they took down the statue erected in the centre of the town in honour of Georgi Dimitrov.

London. Check.

Italy. Check.

Bulgaria. Check.

Next stop : Turkey.

By the way, did you guess it was my name written in Cyrillic?

Oh yeah, I also saw a chicken cross the road. Did I mention that?

On the Silk Road (2)

03 Monday Sep 2018

Posted by g88kboy in g88kboy, Travel

≈ 1 Comment

Over all my fourteen years, London was fun. I’ve had many exciting experiences that I know I will never forget.

It was a struggle to say goodbye to our flat back in London. It had been my home since the day I was born (literally – I was delivered in the main bedroom). Flat 3 has always been with me, through thick and thin.

For my secondary school, it was a different matter. Pretty much the only thing I will miss from there are my friends.

But I don’t think I will ever struggle to say goodbye to anything more than VillaGea. This house was a pure luxury, something I couldn’t wait to visit every summer.

Not only VillaGea has everything you could ever wish for – a massive trampoline, a footsball table, a Ping-Pong table, a wide variety of balls (ranging from footballs, basketballs and volleyballs to beach balls, squeeze balls and exercise balls), a huge collection of toys and a form of entertainment available at all times, but it also holds many memories – including sleepovers with friends, barbecues with families and late-night karaoke.

However, above all, the house has its very own front-row seat for the beach. That is something extremely extraordinary. How else can you get the beautiful experience of waking up to the soft crashes of waves against the shore? How else can you get the opportunity to sit on a deck chair in the veranda, watching the sunset? How else can you get the chance to have a midnight swim on a whim? The sea was basically my own massive swimming pool. So yeah, it was a struggle saying goodbye to the house of many glorious memories.

Still, as the summer eventually ended, the trip of a lifetime started.

The first stop is the village of Dobrich, Bulgaria. We took a flight from Rome to Sofia, before jumping into the car to drive all the way there.

The time in the car allowed me to relish the sight of Bulgaria’s landscape that I had not seen in many years. When I was younger, I used to come to Bulgaria a lot to visit Diado & Baba. While in the car, it occurred to me, that throughout all the years I hadn’t visited, I still had vivid memories.

I had missed Bulgaria. That was as much as I could realise. So here I am, back in one of my childhood homes.

On the Silk Road (1)

01 Saturday Sep 2018

Posted by g88kboy in Travel

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Italy

This is it.

This is where it all begins.

The trip starts now.

A while ago, my parents suggested relocating to Southeast Asia all the while travelling along the Silk Road. At the same time, I had been accepted into the BRIT School for the performing arts and technology. Both were an opportunity of a lifetime – I didn’t know what to feel.

Forward one year later, and here we are. I still don’t know what to feel.

Today we are leaving from our holiday house – Villa Gea – in Italy.

Next stop: my father’s homeplace in Bulgaria, the village of Dobrich.

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