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Albania Europe Iraqi Kurdistan/Albania trip 2022

Albanian Arrival

I arrived in Tirana, Albania on a flight via Istanbul from Erbil, Iraq (Kurdistan). It was still covid times, but the requirements were decreasing, all I needed was a PCR test to leave Iraq. Albania was, apart from a curfew of sorts, was restriction free. And I was glad for it.

Alania only really came on my radar as a travel destination in 2020 when it was one of the few countries to have almost no covid restrictions. I read about it and it looked interesting, so I picked it as my next destination after Iraq. But I didn’t really know much about Albania, I realized as the trip drew nearer. The bits of reading I had done to plan the trip and some snippets of history, but otherwise, my references to Albania were pretty much limited to the depictions of Albanians in the first two “Taken” movies (sorry, Albania) and that it was the country against which the US waged its fake war in the movie “Wag the Dog.”

The individual countries of the Balkans are still relatively new and, in my lifetime, went from the USSR to Yugoslavia to what they are now, which is still evolving. Look at Kosovo. Admittedly I haven’t kept up with the countries and cultures of the region. I was in Bulgaria in 2019, but that was pretty much it.

All this lack of knowledge made my visit to Albania all the better as I was so curious about the museums and the history, as opposed to being blasé about it because I feel like I’ve heard it all before. I was eager to cram a lot of knowledge and history into my brain in my time in Tirana. But first, I needed to get into town.

My flight landed in the afternoon. I changed some Euos into Albania Lek and walked out of the airport. I was confronted by a row of waiting taxi drivers. All 50+ in age. Each wearing a leather jacket. They had faces that said “I am unhappy to see you.” and “I’d rather be drinking.” They smoked cigarettes with hands that looked like they had been used to hammer in nails. They weren’t rude at all; just tough, and matter-of-fact. A local guy later reminded me that all men of a certain age have all fought in war and are ‘hard’.

I stayed in a private room at the Tirana Backpackers Hostel. I recommend it. The location is perfect; maybe a two minute walk from the main square and surrounded by cafes and bakeries, restaurants, and amenities. The hostel itself has a very welcoming hippy vibe and is strictly vegetarian (i.e. no meat allowed and group veggie meals prepared each evening). I was walked around and introduced to visitors from all over the world, each of whom seemed genuinely happy to see me. It felt a bit like an orientation to a friendly cult, but I was in.

The hostel is in a cozy old house with a ramshackle backyard, welcoming living rooms, and a sweet dog. My room was chilly, but my bed came with at least 100 heavy blankets and I felt snuggly and ready for sleep when the time came.

On that first day I walked around the main sights and got my bearings. My original plans had me spending 3.5 days in Tirana, but due to a flight cancelation that became 2.5 days and one of the days I would spend in North Macedonia, so I really had only 1.5 days in Tirana. It proved to be fine, but I was busy seeing stuff.

Tirana makes a decent first impression. It is not super beautiful but feels interesting and alive. And it feels like it is evolving – rapidly. Objectively ugly, yet appealing to me communist era apartment buildings were mingled with new, modern architecture. Actually, Tirana’s skyline was dominated by cranes when I was there. New high-rises going up everywhere. Discussions with residents confirmed my question, which was ‘who can afford to live in these places?’ Answers were not forthcoming.

I strolled around the main square (Skanderburg Square), taking in the varied architecture. On the square, most notably is the Opera House, which also has a good bookstore and restaurant, the National Historical Museum, and an unusual mosque. The museum has an excellent mosaic on the front, but it was under repair when I was there, so I had to make do with a picture of it. Presiding over the square is a huge statue of Gjergj Kastrioti (aka Skanderburg), the military hero from the 1400s who led a rebellion against the Ottomans and who is legendary for his battle prowess.

I walked past a massive, nearly complete mosque under construction and looped along the river to find the Pyramid of Tirana. The Pyramid is (was) one of Tirana’s most famous sights. It was built in 1988 as a museum to honour the recently deceased Communist leader/dictator Enver Hoxha. After the fall of communism, it became a conference centre and later was used by NATO in the war in 1999. It fell into disuse for many years but sat empty and covered with graffiti. Sort of a broken monument to former times and photo op for backpackers. When I was there, however, the Pyramid was being gutted and incorporated into a new commercial building. Preserving a bit of the dark past and merging it into the future. It was surrounded by high construction walls, but a security guard let me in to walk around, telling me I was beautiful. Some women get jewelry or dinners – I get invitations to off-limits construction sites.

I had a coffee and some nibbles at the Kometiti café, which is delightfully filled by antiques and has a great atmosphere and then walked past the House of Leaves (more on that later) and visited a large, new church.

It was getting to the time when the museums and whatnot were closed but I was happy to just get a sense of the city on foot. I talked with one young man in the square about the city and the construction and where I should wander.

I ended the day at the Radio Bar, which was recommended. Honestly, I didn’t love it, but my time there was improved by the fact that I could smoke my cigar inside (a non-Cuban cigar, I forget the name, that I had purchased in Erbil days earlier) and that I spent my time talking to a young duo of friends from Albania – she a law student in Germany and he a medical student in Tirana. They were good company gave me lots of insight into the impressions of young people in Albania (which, according to them, and in a nutshell, is that most want to move to other parts of Europe) and cynicism about government.

It was a good first day. I didn’t visit much inside, but that would change on day 3, when I would hit as many museums as I could. I didn’t stay out late, as technically the bars and restaurants were still under an early closure curfew due to covid. (The only restriction that Tirana seems to have.) Plus, I had to get up early for a long day trip to North Macedonia.

Africa Mauritania Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021

Nouakchott, Mauritania

I picked Mauritania for my travels first because of the opportunity to ride atop a train through the Sahara, and second because it is so seldom visited. That always makes me curious about a place. Also, I knew little about it, and what better way to learn about a place than to go there.

A bit about Mauritania

It is a huge country in West Africa, largely covered by the Sahara and is both one of the least populated (~4.6 million people in an area roughly twice the size of Spain) and least visited countries in the world. It is poor, filled with many historically nomadic groups and its capital, Nouakchott, is quite new, only having been founded in the 1960s.

There isn’t much here in terms of tourist sights. It’s primary draws are the desert and the lure of the remote and mysterious. That and the Iron Ore Train (more about that later).

It is a Muslim country. The main language is Arabic (though a specific local version) followed by local languages, like Wolof, then French. English is not common. I can speak enough to French to get by in common situations, though understanding people is often difficult. The few pleasantries in Arabic that I have in my repertoire go a long way.

Mauritania is also a bit troubled, as any visit to Wikipedia will tell you. Aside from the poverty and encroaching militant Islamist groups, primarily around the borders with Algeria and Mali, there have been some acts of violence, including one (very bad one) of which I am aware against a group of tourists in 2007.

Mauritania is (unfortunately) notable for being the last country in the world to outlaw slavery (in 1981) and they only criminalized it in 2007. Despite that, it is a country where slavery still flourishes. Estimates say 10-20% of people live as slaves. There is something of a caste system between people of different ethnic groups. I haven’t quite got a grasp on that. And there are some troubling stories of the treatment of women, including force feeding young women (or girls) to fatten them up to make them more desirable for marriage.

Of course I have not seen these bad things in my travels, unsurprisingly. I am glad for that, but I think it is important to acknowledge that they are there. In my experience so far, everyone has been kind, hospitable, and helpful. I recognize that I will never see the whole picture of a country in a short visit.

Arrival

I arrived in Nouakchott, Mauritania after almost two days of travel, including my long layover in Paris. It was late and I wanted only to get to my hostel and settle in. Mauritania has a visa on arrival process, which is great, though it means often hours at the airport standing in queues. Covid has not approved this situation. Leaving the airplane, I power walked to immigration, grabbed the paperwork and filled it out while standing in line. I was person number two. A small victory. I was soon though the process and had in my passport a new visa with the least flattering picture of myself I have seen on a government document.

I was picked up at the airport by Sebastian, the proprietor of my accommodations, who also picked up a friend of his; a woman from France who had lived in Mauritania for many years, and her dog.

We arrived at the Auberge Triskell at close to midnight and I spent the next hour or so relaxing and chatting with my hosts in the lovely garden.

The Auberge Triskell is super. It has private rooms in the former grand home of a Mauritanian pop singer and on the roof it has tents and bungalows. It was very comfortable and in a great location. Sebastian speaks English and was helpful in assisting with onward travel. And it is very inexpensive.

Also staying at the Auberge was an Italian man in town on business, a Greek fellow travelling solo, and a Math teacher from Paris also travelling solo on a break from school.

The First Day in Nouakchott

My first day in Nouakchott was busy. I saw pretty much everything the city has to offer. I spent it with the Parisian Math teacher. As it turned out, he had the same basic plan I did for sight seeing and he was keen to walk, so we ventured out together.

We started in the centre ville and went to the National Museum of Mauritania. It is a modest museum with artifacts and ethnographic displays. Worth a visit (especially for the modest entrance fee of about $1.50 CDN). We were the only visitors at the time.

From there we walked to the Grand Mosque. We were not permitted to enter, but it was indeed grand from the outside.

Nouakchott is good for walking. Surprising to me it was rather calm; not a chaotic, crowded city like others in West Africa. The traffic is not bad, crossing the street is easy and there are often sidewalks. Sidewalks are one of those things that one thoroughly takes for granted until they are gone. You can’t really go for a leisurely walk when you are dodging traffic at every step.

The streets are navigated by cars mostly, with a few yellow tuk tuks, donkey carts, and, occasionally, motorcycles.

We wandered over to the Moroccan Mosque, which is very pretty. We were not only allowed to enter but were given a personal tour by some guy who seemed to be in charge. He really seemed more interested in promoting Morocco than Mauritania, but it was a good conversation.

Our religious visits done, we headed to the market; a sprawling outdoor grid of covered stalls, mobile fruit carts, butchers preparing goat and camel meat, date salesmen, textile vendors and tailors, and women selling peanuts and freshly fried balls of dough, often with meaty centres (I didn’t have the meaty ones but the plain ones were delicious). I love markets so this was a treat.

People for the most part here do not want their picture taken. Art one point a man was unhappy when i took a photo of his donkey. So I kept my market photos few and broad. Sometimes though people were keen for it, like this one vegetable vendor who requested a photo. I thought she looked like a queen on a throne of vegetables.

The textile vendors were very visually appealing as they were mostly blue. Most people here have stayed with the traditional Mauritanian dress of long robes and a long scarf, worn around the neck, around the head as a kind of turban, or wrapped around the entire face, with the exception of the eyes as a protection from the sane, which is everywhere. (Only the main streets are paved.) When the fully face covered men add a pair of sunglasses they look just like the Invisible Man trying to blend in.

We ran a few errands. A SIM card for the Math teacher, some fruits to take back to the rooms, and finding a bank machine that would accept our foreign cards – a feat that, when accomplished, resulted in me doing a lively dance, much to the amusement of onlookers.

We walked back to the Auberge for a 20 minute rest, then walked out to the high street to catch a taxi to take us to the sea. On the way we got a bit turned around and asked a family where we needed to go. They were seated on the side of the sandy street, under an awning, cooking up some meat over a fire and cutting up onions to have with the meat and baguettes (as far as I can tell, the only form of bread widely consumed in the country). They gave us directions, but also immediately invited us to join them for their meal. We declined, as we were on a mission, but this is the sort of hospitality that seems to be common here. That sort of thing never ceases to amaze me.

Nouakchott has a busy fishing port with colourful wooden fishing boats similar to those I saw in Ghana. We were there in the afternoon, just in time to watch the hauls and boats being brought in.

It was beautiful and the breeze from the sea felt incredible after the heat of the city centre. We watched the action and the waves and then walked down to the actual beach that people used for recreation – not swimming as the sea is too strong, but exercise and sitting in groups, hanging out. There were also a couple of camels and horses.

On the way back I saw a ghastly form on the sand and immediately yelled out twice “What the fuck is that?!” What is was was the grossest and most interesting sea creature I have ever seen in real life outside of an aquarium. About four feet long, with a beak like face, beady, evil eyes, and a flat, angular body. I learned later that it was a snub-nosed guitar fish, in the ray family. Like something out of a nightmare.

We popped into the building where the fish were weighed and sold, and to the outdoor place where they were cut up and gutted, the floor covered with a thick carpet of scales.

We managed to find a car (I am using this term in its loosest sense, as the vehicle barely had the structure of a car, with its rear end dragging on the ground and its doors only partially operational) to take us to the vicinity of the Auberge.

We had a bite to eat at an indoor, air conditioned restaurant near a cluster of embassies. I was delighted to see ashtrays on the tables.

I spent the rest of the evening, chatting in the garden with Sebasitan and the other guests, making plans, swapping travel tales, and discussing how after living in Mauritania, returning to France seems unappealing.

I slept well, happy with the day, and with plans to head west in the morning for Atar and adventures in the desert.

Europe France Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021

Paris Layover: Overnight en route to Mauritania

I decided to go to Mauritania. It had been on my radar for a few years. I was drawn to it because I knew nothing about it, it has a vast expanse underpopulated Sahara desert (which seems mysterious and adventurous), and it has the Iron Ore Train (about which I will say more in a future post). After my other pandemic travels were to more conventional destinations, I was ready for some proper adventure.

Getting to Mauritania involved a 22 hour layover in Paris, which was a bonus for me, since I hadn’t been to Paris since 2009. I arrived in Paris at around 5pm. Between the covid checks, the super huge queues at the airport, and train station construction, it took me almost two hours to get from tarmac to the Gare du Nord train station. It was just starting to get dusky as I walked 10 minutes to my hostel.

I booked a private room at the Le Regent Montmartre ‘Hip Hop’ hostel, just on the edge of Montmartre. It was simple, cute, and comfortable…and I spent as little time there as possible before getting out to see something of Paris.

I took myself on a walk through the area around Pigalle, with its sex shops, burlesques historic and modern, and vintage cabarets. I took a series of failed photos. I was just too impatient and wanted to keep moving, so I ended up with a lot of blurry snaps of neon.

I started to meander up to Montmartre, delighted that the cafes and restaurants were full, live music flowing out of open doors, crepe shops cooking up tasty treats. I wandered past the usual, notable sights in the area and enjoyed the busy squares and the Sacre Couer, but it was also wonderful when I found myself on an empty street so picturesque, perfectly French, and atmospheric.

I finally settled at a outdoor cafe just off the Place du Tertre where I enjoyed a glass of wine and a Partagas Series D No.4 (that’s a cigar). I think 3 people invited me to join them or asked to join me for a drink. I don’t know if people are just extra social now that the covid restrictions have been lifted or what, but that sort of open, hospitality to strangers would be very out of place in Vancouver and I appreciated the invitations, but I preferred to remain on my own.

I had the shortest of sleeps and got up early to see a bit more of the city before heading back to the airport. Still dark out, i took the metro to the Seine and walked along it, watching the sky change and the lights reflect in the water. I looped past the Louvre and into an area with cafes and boulangeries. I could smell the freshly baked breads in the cool air.

I settled in to one of the few open cafes and had a proper (carb heavy) French breakfast.

By the time I was finished the sky was light and I strolled back to the metro through the Tuileries Gardens.

*Everything looks so lovely in the early morning light*

I rode back to Pigalle, where the streets were filled with what I assume is a weekly flea market and people were already busy shopping for fur coats, old typewriters, and ephemera.

One last look at the Sacre Coeur, this time in the light of day, and I trained back to the airport for my flight to Nouakchott. It is a long journey and I have enjoyed it, but I am ready to just get to where I am going. Now the new arrivals are boarding. I find myself looking at them, trying to find clues about what to expect in Mauritania. A lot more traditional and religious dress. A group of young French speaking girls who I have overheard say they are on vacation for 5 days. My immediate reaction to that was, “who goes on vacation to Mauritania?” …right. Me. Well, there is some comfort in knowing I am not the only one. A couple more hours and my curiosity about my chosen destination will all be put to rest. Departure is imminent.

Denmark Europe

Copenhagen Long Weekend: A pleasantly surprising start

Arrival

Copenhagen is far from Vancouver. About 11 and a half hours if you get a direct flight. However, in the spring of 2020 I had planned to take a four-day weekend trip to see the Danish capital. Of course, that trip was cancelled due to covid. Flash forward to October 2021 and a four-day weekend coupled with a complete lack of covid restrictions in Denmark made the trip seem like a very good idea. I booked it within a week of leaving, but the planning was easy, as I had done it all the previous year.

I flew to London, enjoyed a brief layover and flew to Copenhagen, arriving at about 6pm. Because Denmark had dropped its covid restrictions, as long as you are vaccinated, you don’t even need a test to go there. And once I left the airport, I got to ditch my mask for the weekend. It was like it was 2019 all over again.

That said, Canada has not dropped its covid restrictions, so the first thing I did was get a PCR test at the airport, since I would need it for my return to Canada. Unlike in every other country I have been to since the pandemic started, covid tests in Denmark are free.

I took the train to the central station and walked the few blocks to my hostel. I was staying at the Steel House hostel, in a dorm. I don’t often stay in dorms. As much as I love the hostel vibes and amenities, I do prefer having my own bedroom. But Copenhagen is really expensive and if you are going to splurge on a weekend trip to Europe, you have to cut corners somewhere. The Steel House hostel is quite fancy and has a ton of amenities. The dorms are space age situations with gleaming white bunks and chrome touches. Not pods, but they had that feel. Fortunately, my dorm mates were a very friendly group of girls from Germany and Taiwan and I enjoyed their company when we swapped stories at the end of the day.

As soon as I found my bunk, I ditched my backpack and hit the streets. It was dark, but not late, and there were people out everywhere. I didn’t have a plan, but ended up meandering over to Nyhaven, because that’s the place that you see in all the travel pictures. Nyhaven was … fine. At night anyway, it was nice in an “I’m really in Copenhagen” way, but wasn’t my scene. I did love walking through the city though. Lovely streets, glittering canals, appealing cafés with warm lights, and glimpses of things I would see properly the next day. There is nothing like that first walk in a new city, when you are finding your way and just discovering where you are.

I walked and walked before settling at a restaurant, outside, by one of the canals. All of the outdoor eateries were packed, even though it was October. After dinner I slept soundly, excited to wake up and start the day.

Exploring Copenhagen

Saturday morning I got up ridiculously early. I only had two full days in Copenhagen, I wasn’t going to spend them sleeping in.

The day was clear and crisp. Perfect for walking. And did I walk. First I walked a similar route to that which I taken the night before, enjoying seeing everything in the light of day. The dumb thing about getting up so early was that nothing was open for coffee. I ended up getting a coffee from a convenience store (I know…) and sitting outside in a square near the statue of Hans Christian Anderson. I little while later I had a proper coffee at a café and had a pastry. They aren’t messing around when it comes to coffee and bread products there. Every single thing I had to eat was excellent.

I walked over to Christiansborg Palace (a palace, the house of Parliament, Prime Minister’s office and Supreme Court) on a little island and watched them exercising the horses and wandered over to the gardens in front of the Queen’s library. I had forgotten, until I saw the palace, that Denmark still has a monarchy. Speaking of islands, Copenhagen has 1,419* of them. A fact I find stunning. Like, if someone told you the tiny country of Copenhagen had “a lot of islands” you would probably think that number to be around 50, maybe 70; but 1,419 seems impossible. I think I only set foot on four of them. (*only about 443 have been named and only 78 are populated.)

I walked over to a large waterway where people were walking the sea wall, sitting with coffee, rowing on the water, having a morning cigarette. This was also my first glimpse of the modern architecture in the city and have to say, it is a bit disappointing. Not bad, but not great. I preferred the historic buildings.

crossing over to the islet of Slotsholmen

At this point I decided to go to a museum. On the way there, I visit the Danish Pipe Shop for a browse and to pick up some cigars (and get tips of where to smoke from the proprietor). Just around the corner was a small square, where there was a very unusual statue. Terrifying pigs in overcoats, men with screaming faces and a giant hand giving the middle finger. By Jens Galschiøt, it is a temporary installation celebrating the 700^th anniversary of Dante’s death and some commentary on modern city life. I couldn’t find much about the sculpture in English, but the artist is pretty interesting and I like anything that disrupts the flow of city life, which this sculpture definitely does.

I went to the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, a fine arts (mostly sculpture) museum. It is a good size and has a pretty little tropical courtyard. I found it very pleasant and particularly liked the Egyptian mummies and – most of all – the nasotheque. The museum has a small and unusual collection of noses that have fallen off ancient sculptures. (Nasotheque, like bibliotheque or discotheque – not my invention. It’s what the museum called it.) I can’t explain the ears included.

I walked back to Nyhaven to see all of the colorful buildings in the daylight. Along the way I passed by Tivoli Gardens (actually for like the 4^th time; it’s right in the centre of town). I was sad that the park was closed that weekend to set up for Halloween and each time I saw the rides and decorations peeking out from above the barriers, I was a bit wistful, but I can always come back some day to ride the rides. If you don’t know, Tivoli is the second oldest theme park in the world and is said to be the inspiration for Disneyland. And looking at what I could see, the similarities are apparent, right down to a Matterhorn type rollercoaster.

The entrance to Tivoli Gardens, halloween style

Nyhaven is lovely a strip of colorful buildings along a canal just off of the sea port. Tall ships docked and canal-side eateries full to the brim. Set against a blue sky it is perfect. I still didn’t have much desire to hang out or eat there (it is a bit crowded) but it is pleasant to see.

I walked over the round tower and, feeling peckish, stopped for a hot dog. Copenhagen is lousy with hot dog carts or pølsevogn, as they call them. (Actually, it was the only street food I saw in Copenhagen other than warm nuts.) They seem to be sort of a fancier version than in North America and have different toppings and better quality ingredients. I had read that Copenhagen was the ‘hot dog capital of the world’ so I had to have one. After several failed attempts, I found one sausage wagon that had a vegetarian option. At the foot of the round tower. Mine came with mustard, remoulade, onions, and pickles. It was good and one of the least expensive meals in had in the pricy city.

I then walked over to Rosenborg Castle (or Rosenborg Slot, in Danish), a Renaissance castle from 1606, now a museum and tourist attraction. The castle is pretty and pleasant, and has a treasury with weapons, wine, and impressive jewels. It is set in a lovely park and guarded by ever-marching, armed soldiers.

Freetown Christiania

I decided to walk from Rosenbourg Castle, lap of monarchial luxury, to the other extreme: Freetown Christiania. (Note that this required walking back past Nyhaven. I really did not plan an orderly walking route.) To get to Freetown Christiania, I walked across two bridges, past crowds of people at beer gardens and out on small boats with bottles of wine and picnics, or on bicycles.

I haven’t even mentioned the bicycles. Copenhagen is a bicycle city, with dedicated lanes everywhere and masses of bikes parked – many not even locked up, because Copenhagen is just that safe. Unlike in some biking cities, where the cyclists seem aggressive, here, everyone just seemed so calm and happy, as they peddled along. And it is totally flat, so the cycling is nearly effortless.

Anyway: Freetown Christiania. It is a self-declared micro state and commune set on an island in Copenhagen. It was founded by squatters in the early 1970s and is home to about 1000 residents. It has its own flag and laws (sort of – its legal status is constantly in flux). It is a real hippie place with no cars, colorful art works, and a big meditation and yoga scene. Danish law is not really enforced there and cannabis is sold and consumed openly (it is illegal in Denmark; something that seems so weird coming from Canada).

It is worth visiting, though I have to say it wasn’t my cup of tea. It’s interesting (the day I was there, there were many police standing at the entrance but not entering) and there are some cute, colorful buildings and whimsical art, but it didn’t keep me entertained for long. There are a lot of cannabis sellers there, but, again, this is legal in Canada, so it didn’t have that exciting appeal of the illicit.

After a bit of a look around, I returned to the mainland. (Note that there are rules in Freetown Christiania, which includes no running [it makes people think there is a police raid] and no photos of people [which makes taking pictures of anything a challenge]).

Smørrebrød, cigars, and my assessment of Copenhagen so far

At this point, I decided to go for a quick bite: some amazing smørrebrød. The famous, Danish open faced sandwich. I don’t know how such a simple dish can be so delicious, but…wow. So happy to find vegetarian options. It would never have occurred to me to put pickled onions and hazelnuts on a sandwich. My horizons have been expanded.

While sitting there eating, I took some time to assess my experience so far. A day in and I was surprisingly smitten with Copenhagen. Honestly, I expected it to be a bit dull, which was part of the reason I picked it for my weekend city break. But I didn’t find it dull. I loved it. I loved the food and the coffee. I loved the pretty, but understated historical architecture. I loved the canals and the squares and the bike paths. I loved that people were out eating and drinking on patios in the chilly night air, cozied up under blankets. I loved that there were more museums and art galleries than I could visit in a month, let alone a weekend. I loved the way everyone was dressed. They seemed both dressier and more casual than in Vancouver. Like, people in Copenhagen are dressed for comfort, but in a way that doesn’t look like they are headed to the gym or bed. Smart sneakers, over-sized cozy knitwear, big wool coats, loose jeans, turtlenecks…I don’t know, they looked effortlessly cool. And everyone looked very attractive, in a really natural, healthy sort of way. Copenhagen didn’t remind me of any place I had been before. It just seemed specific to itself. This all came as a pleasant surprise to me.

I popped back to the hostel for about an hour and chatted with my dorm mates, who had also migrated back for a bit of a rest. We had all done similar things during the day and it was fun to compare notes and swap recommendations.

I ended my long day at the Musen & Elefanten (mouse & elephant) bar, recommended to me by the guy at the Danish Pipe Shop. It was a tiny, slightly sub-terranean watering hole. Super cozy. The best thing about it was that they allowed cigar smoking indoors (possibly the only place in the city that does). I sat at the bar and enjoyed a Partagas Serie D No.2 and a Hoyo Epicure No.2 along with a cocktail or two made by the extremely affable bartender, with whom I chatted. It was a very nice end to the day.

I returned to my hostel and got cozy in my bunk, later than all my dorm mates and fell asleep immediately, unsurprisingly after ~25 km of walking. I still had one more day ahead of me and much more to see.

Asia Jordan

Amman Arrival

Why Jordan / Why Now

When Canada dropped the covid quarantine requirement for its returning, vaccinated travellers, I knew it was time to plan something. I had been to Ukraine a couple months prior and that went well so it was time go farther afield. The number one place I wanted to go was Jordan.

Jordan had been high on my list of places to go for many years. Decades, really. But somehow I never went. As I visited other big heritage sights (the pyramids in Egypt, Machu Picchu, Abu Simbel, Lalibela, etc) I sort of held on to Jordan, figuring I would go there one day and I liked having Petra in the future, as something to look forward to. Then the pandemic hit and travel was effectively taken away for a time and I thought that Jordan, and Petra in particular, would be the place I would go as soon as I was able. No more putting it off; ‘one day’ may never come. And so I went.

Covid Travel

I flew to Amman from Vancouver via Toronto and Doha, covid tests, vaccination forms, pre-approval paperwork all in hand. It is easy in this time of travel to get frustrated by the queues, the ever-changing restrictions, the paperwork. I could spend half my time I airports feeling frustrated by the rules and the other half of my time feeling irritated by the people who do not follow the rules, but instead I have adopted a mantra of “I’m just happy to be here.” Whenever I want to simmer about yet another hour long queue to show my paperwork yet again or about the person seated next to me on the plane who just refuses to wear their mask, I just remind myself that I am just happy to be traveling, hoops and all.

As of the writing of this, to enter Jordan without a quarantine or test at the border, you must be double vaccinated with an approved vaccine and have pre filled out a form through the https://www.visitjordan.gov.jo that gives you a QR card that you show before boarding and again on arrival. Officially, masks and gloves are required in all indoor, public places, but I didn’t see a single person wearing gloves and mask use was…inconsistent at best. But all of that may change at any minute.

Amman

I arrived in Amman at about 11pm and by 11:30 was pulling up to my hostel (the Cabin Hostel) in the heart of the city and was delighted to see that even at that late hour, the city was alive. Everything was open and the streets were busy. I don’t know why people would be shopping for suits and spices at close to midnight, but if it strikes your fancy, you can do it in Amman.

The Cabin Hostel, by the way, is perfect. You couldn’t ask for a better location, surrounded by inviting cafes and restaurants, on the edge of the souks, and a short walk from both the Citadel and the Roman Theatre. It has cozy dorms and serviceable private rooms, and a shady rooftop for breakfasts and general socializing. And it is cheap.

The next morning, I set off early with my sights set on the Citadel. The map showed that it was not far – and it isn’t – but the thing I quickly realized about Amman is that they don’t call it the city of seven hills for nothing. Indeed, that might be an understatement. It seemed that everywhere I went I was walking uphill. In some areas the hills were so steep that the sidewalks just became daunting staircases. All the better to work up an appetite for falafel. It was fine, if not leisurely, for walking. It was hot though. As a demonstration, this is me as I left my hostel that morning:

And this is my one hour later, red-faced and sweaty, though quite happy:

The Citadel is an historical site occupied since about 1800 BC and is most famous for being the site of the Temple of Hercules, of which several columns remain and, fantastically, has the remnants of a massive statue of Hercules. It’s just a part of a hand and an elbow but they are large and delicately carved. The original monument must have been amazing.

The Citadel also offers great views of the city.

From there I meandered my way down to the 2^nd century Roman theatre.

And then I wandered the streets, visiting the souks and a few mosques.

I saw the first of some excellent street art murals.

Exhausted from the heat and the walking I spotted an inviting balcony on a second level of a building and popped in for some fresh lemon mint juice and a matching lemon mint shisha, happy for the breeze and for a bit of distance from the hectic streets. The waiter did not speak English, but continually stopped by my table to mutter things to me. On my way out, just as I began descending the stairs to leave, he approached me and grabbed my hand, pulling me for a kiss. I gave him a sharp “No” and shoved him back against the wall. He accepted his defeat and simply said goodbye. In English. I thought, “Great, am I going to have to deal with this bullshit the whole trip?” Thankfully, I did not and that was the only bit of harassment I faced.

I walked (really, climbed) to Rainbow Street, which is a street full of eateries, shops, and galleries, for dinner. I wasn’t crazy about it. Everything seemed a little too expensive and not that appealing, but my opinion on that seems to be the minority.

I finished the day joining the masses wandering around the souq area near my hostel at night, enjoying the reprieve from the heat, until finally settling in on a quite alley for some fresh fruit juice and a cigar, watching the crowds and the on again-off again amorous advances of the many stray cats.

It was a packed day. I didn’t see everything of course, but it was a good start, and I would be back at the end of my trip, but the next day was a trip down the King’s Highway to Petra.

Europe Ukraine

In Love with Lviv

I arrived too early on my night train. The train I took left at the best time for me and had only one stop but it got me in at like 6:00am. I should have booked a hostel room for the night before so I would have a room to go to. But instead I took a tram from the train station to the town centre, grabbed a coffee from the one place I found that was open at that time a day and sat in the town square for a while, watching the city wake up, feeling a little like Belle at the beginning of Beauty and the Beast, except that I didn’t want to leave.

I was instantly smitten with Lviv. It is so pretty. Like any of those really pretty small European cities. It has charming narrow streets lined with inviting cafes and eateries, spilling out onto the street. Beautiful buildings. Really old churches ranging from haunting to impressive. Quaint town squares. Lots of flowers. It’s just wonderful.

I was so happy to walk around. Kyiv was cool and impressive but Lviv was charming.

I ate some great meals there, from traditional Ukrainian to excellent Italian to a really wonderful Armenian meal. And everything was so in expensive. Like I had a meal with salad, pasta, and wine at a really cute place and it was like $12 Canadian. Kyiv was also very inexpensive but it really hit me in Lviv.

Oh, and Lviv has tones of excellent coffee shops, ranging from cute to cool, but all with a real focus on excellent coffee, like you would find in any more famous coffee city. (And chocolate shops. Lviv is famous for them.)

There isn’t much in the way of “must see” sights in Lviv. You kind of just go because it is lovely. I was happy to see the churches and soak up the atmosphere.

An excellent little cafe selling bread items filled with meat, cheese or fruits

On my first day of walking around I spotted the big opera house, took a photo, and figured it would be closed due to Covid-19…but it wasn’t. It was open and there was a show on that night.

I was thrilled. Because of the pandemic, I hadn’t been to a live show in a year or more so I decided to see this show, whatever it was. What it was was a show called When the Fern Blooms, from the 1970s, but banned by the Soviets, so it is only in recent years that it has been produced.

I can’t tell you what it was about. I don’t speak Ukrainian and it didn’t have surtitles, but it was clearly very patriotic. It started off well, but honestly it ended up corny, and reminded me of cheesy 1970s sci-fi movies mixed with the big number at the end of the movie Stayin’ Alive. But the good things outweighed my criticisms. It was opera, I was there, I was entertained, and…In the interest of social distancing I bought myself an entire opera box and paid very little. It was either $30 or $60 Canadian. I felt like a king. A masked king.

I stayed at the Lviv Dream Hostel, which was excellent. Perfect location, great amenities and hangout areas, as well as maybe the cleanest hostel kitchen I have ever seen.

There weren’t many backpackers there but lots of people who were in Ukraine working remotely because life was better there at that time than in their own countries, in terms of the pandemic. One guy, an accountant from San Francisco, was told by his employer he would have to work remotely for at least another few months, so he decided to work remotely from Europe. Why not? The place just had a great hostel atmosphere, even if the style of traveller was a little different at that time.

On my next day, I had planned to visit the yard of lost toys, which became pretty blog and Instagram famous as a courtyard in a residential neighbourhood where people had collected and put on display a group of ever-changing lost toys. I found the courtyard, but the toys were gone. I would like to think they all found homes, but the truth is, the residents probably got tired of looky-loos tramping through their backyard. And rightly so.

I did carry on however and visited the Lychakiv cemetery, which is excellent. It is a huge cemetery, still in use, but dating back to the late 17th C. It is massive and very green and peaceful. Perfect for a walk. I was lucky enough to come across some gathering (not a funeral) that involved passionate singing.

That evening I just meandered around and had a meal and cigar. Enjoyed some wonderful traditional music from a busker. I had enough time there and I feel no need to return, but I really loved my time in Lviv.

When I left, instead of the train, I took a short, cheap flight back to Kyiv.

Europe Ukraine

Kyiv, Ukraine

I liked Kyiv instantly. I don’t know if it is because I already have a fondness for former Soviet cities or because my maternal grandparents were from the Ukraine or if it is just because it is awesome. Probably a mix of those things. It had everything I wanted for my first international trip during COVID. It felt like Europe, but distinctly Eastern Europe with imposing architecture, a good bustle, ornate churches, nightlife, and a bit of a sense of order. Normally I prefer chaos, but in a time of such caution about travel, a bit of order seemed prudent.

As a Canadian I didn’t need a visa to enter the country, so I breezed in. My COVID test was checked, but only briefly. Soon I was in a taxi, with a new passport stamp, on my way to my hostel in Podil.

Podil is the oldest part of Kyiv and was a great place to stay. I could walk basically everywhere I wanted to go – to all the main churches and squares. And it is a great area of restaurants, cafes, and a bustling nightlife. It was also the location of a proper cigar lounge – a bonus for me.

I was staying at the Dream Hostel Kyiv. It was great. Easy to find and close to all sorts of things. It has a cafe and court yard, good wifi, hot water, a kitchen, laundry, and a proper hang out area, where people were actually hanging out. It would seem that even during COVID, hostels are still a thing, as they were before. When I originally booked this trip a year before, I was going to stay in a dorm, but I figure with the COVID hoopla (and I was only half vaccinated at this point) a private room would be better. It was. I still shared a bathroom, but that seemed ok. Technically masks were required inside, but they were generally not worn. I stayed there at both legs of the Kyiv part of my visit.

The hostel was on a long, historic and hilly street called Andriivs’kyi descent, the bottom of which is in Podil and the top connected with the centre of town, as marked by the stunning Saint Andrews Church, which was the first of many stunning churches that I visited.

Seriously, I went to so many churches, I am sure I have some sort of Orthodox Christian brownies points, notwithstanding a lifetime of dedicated sinning.

I won’t break it down day by day, as I was in Kyiv for about 4 days and I spent most of it wandering; not entirely aimlessly, but from church to park to monument to art gallery to market, making significant detours along the way, as interesting things popped up.

Kyiv is a serious cafe town and I drank an obscene amount of espressos whenever I wanted a break or some wifi.

I delighted in the architecture. Seldom was it quaint or charming, but it was often impressive, overwhelming, and ornate.

It really is a great city for walking. Relatively easy to navigate, with surprising hidden bits. I was looking, for example, for some gallery that I never found, but in what looked like a courtyard car park I found a charming bookstore/cafe. I stumbled upon street art and gardens.

*bird statues in a park I found by accident*

Make no mistake. This is a big city and I did a lot of walking, but it was always worthwhile, even when I did not find what I was looking for, I found things I didn’t know I wanted.

The public transportation was excellent. There is a vast subway system with stations that tout themselves as ornate. I qualify that statement not because they are not attractive (they are) but because once you have been to Moscow, all other subway stations have to be considered in their shadow.

Because Podil is at the bottom of a long hill, there is a handy little funicular to whisk one from the sea to the centre. The walk is also fine but I do love a funicular. I should mention that, like all things, transportation was very cheap in Kyiv. A ride on the subway or funicular was 8 hryvnia or about 35c Canadian.

One of the things I loved about about Kyiv is the smoking culture. This is a place where people smoke. You aren’t supposed to smoke inside, but outside it was totally fine and no one even gave me so much as a disapproving glance for lighting up a cigar over breakfast, for example, provided I was on a patio. It was great.

I really felt like I fit in, which is odd, as usually I’m in places where I stand out more as being from somewhere else. But in Kyiv, as a pale-faced, spiked leather jacket wearing woman with dyed black hair, I looked like a local. This was to the point where people were asking me for directions, which I took as a badge of pride. Hopefully I didn’t set too many people off in the wrong direction.

Most of my evenings were spent wandering around Podil, which each night seemed like a party, with buskers, streets teeming with people, and on many nights, a literal dance party just in the middle of the street.

And on one night it was an actual festival of sorts complete with a stage with live music and some traditional dancing.

At the beginning of my trip I spend just a day and a half in Kyiv before taking a day trip to Chernobyl and then a night train the following day to Lviv. Fresh posts for those places.

Just a note on spelling. It used to be Kiev, which is the Anglicized version of the Russian spelling, but after Ukraine became independent it switched to the Ukrainian spellings (or, for foreigners, the Anglicized versions of the Ukrainian spellings), so it is now Kyiv and not Kiev. People didn’t seem too bothered about it in Kyiv where Russian was the most prevalent language, but in Lviv, people very much wanted things to be spelled in the Ukrainian way. And rightly so.

Asia Pakistan Pakistan/Oman trip 2020

Sufi Night in Lahore, Pakistan

My third day in Lahore I had planned to see more of the city and spend the evening watching dervishes whirl, but the day did not go as planned. The illness I had come down with the night before persisted. I did make it to Sufi night, but that was about the only thing I did.

Still Sick

I spent most of my day in my little, windowless hostel room. I had a fever, I was freezing cold, and I ached all over. I was nauseous and got up to go to the bathroom, which was not attached to my room and lacked basic facilities. Fine when you’re well; but very inconvenient when you’re sick. I just laid there, with not even enough energy to read.

Finally, in the early evening, I went for walk down the block to a market to buy toilet paper and water and I went to a restaurant with a patio. I ordered a platter of assorted vegetarian, Pakistani dishes. I had no appetite, but I figured I should eat something so I had nibbles of the dishes, leaving most of it. I at least wanted to try some local food. It was very good. I wish I had been hungry.

Some pictures from my outing:

That night – Thursday night – was “Sufi Night”. I was going no matter what.

Sufi Night

Every Thursday night, followers of the Sufi faith in Lahore gather at a few places, including the shrine to Sufi Saint Shah Jamal, for an all night gathering of music, dance, and prayer. I went with the manager of my hostel. I am glad I did. I could easily have taken a tuk tuk to the shrine, but it would have been intimidating and I would not have gotten as close.

The shrine was on a crazy busy but small street lined with shops. People and tuk tuks pressed in. I had to cover my head well before we entered the area and I kept it covered, I didn’t see any other obvious foreigners and few women.

We walked into and through the marble shrine and to the back of it, where a couple hundred people gathered outside under some large bodhi (peepal) trees. There were lights strung up and fires burned. The air was thick with incense and hashish smoke.

In the clearing in the middle of the people was a group of musicians, notably drummers, wearing log red robes with drums like wine barrels hung in front of them by a sash around their necks. They beat on their drums with hook-shaped implements, creating the rhythm that drove everything and everyone around it.

The clearing was filled with maybe 15 men; each dressed in a single color, barefoot, spinning. Some of them spun constantly, some spun intermittently. Arms out, head slightly back. Eyes closed or open, but intensely focused on something. Others danced, stomped, thrashed, swayed, kicked legs, waved arms, rolled heads, twitched hips. It was fascinating. Even a little unsettling at times.

My companion forced us right up to the front. We were seated cross-legged on the ground; sometimes just a few inches from a foot or knee.

The dancers seemed unaware of the crowd or each other. Like they were in a trance. Some of them wore bells that made them part of the music.

The crowed swayed and nodded to the beat. It was easy to become entranced just watching (though obviously not to the same degree). Occasionally someone from the audience would join in, briefly.

The most extreme thing I saw was one young man who had been dancing and spinning, kneeled down and began pounding his forehead into the ground along to the music. Someone eventually put some cloth under his head to prevent him from doing more damage to himself.

A couple of times one of the drummers took to the clearing and, while continuing to drum the beat, spun around fast; never losing the pulse of the music.

It was hypnotic and fascinating.

I took photos, but they are all a blur. Literally.

After about 2 hours I had to insist we leave. It just continues until dawn (theoretically) and people come and go. My unsettled stomach insisted that we leave when we did.

I think this is a ‘must do’ if visiting Lahore. If I had been feeling better, I would have liked to wander around the shrine and the neighbourhood more, but what I saw was great.

Winding up in Lahore

I will add that the next day in Lahore was my last. It was the day I would have gone on a day trip out of the city, but I still felt awful. I took antibiotics, but again, I spent most of the day in bed, going out in the late afternoon for a very slow walk to a local park around a library (?), where I sat outside and sipped at a coffee.

That was it for Lahore for me. Not as action packed as I had planned, but yet it was thoroughly satisfying. I look forward to returning to Pakistan someday to see more, but on this trip that was it. I would have one night in Doha and then I was back to Vancouver.

Asia Pakistan Pakistan/Oman trip 2020

Wagah Border Ceremony – The View from Lahore

Wagah Border

Getting there

At the end of day two in Lahore, Pakistan I planned to go to the Wagah border between Pakistan and India for the famous Wagah Border ceremony. Each day since 1959 an impressive military ceremony is held at this border crossing, on both sides, with great fanfare and feats. Apparently it was not to be missed, so I put it on my list.

The border is not too far from Lahore and you can take a taxi and arrange to have them wait and drive you back or you can take a bus and walk a bit, but I went with a hassle free and slightly more pricey option; I went with the manager of my hostel in a car. While it did cost a little more than if I went on my own, it was worth it. I was able to ask lots of questions and get pictures that I probably would not have been comfortable asking for on my own. On the way there I enjoyed seeing the sights and streets, as the driver stopped repeatedly to get snacks for us to share – samosas, oranges, popcorn.

The Event

Everyday before sunset, hundreds of spectators gather in stadium-style seating on either side of the border, which is marked with a tall, pointy fence and gate. On one side is India and the other Pakistan. Each side has its group of aggressively moustachioed soldiers in fancy dress, complete with elaborate headdresses. There is music and flag waving.

*Looking Across the Border to the Indian Side*

Prior to the actual ceremony starting the crowds are worked into a frenzy with music and singing and cheering. There were men who hyped up the crowd, leading cheers and yells, waving huge flags. One man, who had only one leg, delighted the crown by spinning around and around and waving a massive flag in the air with endless enthusiasm.

Entrance is free and if you are a foreigner there you will be ushered to one of the seats in front for the best views.

During all this pre-ceremony hoopla, the soldiers are strutting around and posing for photographs. I couldn’t resist. Not only are their uniforms imposing, but they are ridiculously tall. Just for context in the photos, I am 5’9″ and they tower over me.

Finally, the ceremony started. The gates along the border open, though to be clear: the border may not be crossed. I asked my companion what would happen if one of the soldiers accidentally crossed the line and he said he would be jailed or killed. I couldn’t gauge if he was serious.

The ceremony itself consists of marching and competitions of who could blow a horn the longest and who could kick the highest. There is a lot of posturing, including assertive moustache twirling. There and regular chants of “Pakistaaaaan” and something about Allah and the crown went wild; leaping to its feet to join in.

It was very weird and really interesting. I had a great time. On the way back to the car about a half dozen people asked to take selfies with me; a trend that continued during my time in Lahore. Seriously, the friendliest people.

The Sickness Sets In…

That evening I hung out at the hostel, on the patio, chatting with a couple of hard core, long term travellers. It was great. But soon I started to feel…not so good. I was freezing cold (for no normal reason) and my hands started visibly shaking. At bedtime, I but slept poorly as I developed a fever and digestive issues. I felt awful but I figured that I had food poisoning.

In the morning I did not feel better and the symptoms then also included intense body aches. I’ve been sick on travels before and I wasn’t surprised – after all, I had been eating from food stalls with communal dishes and utensils – but this was bad. I didn’t think about it at the time, as I was only peripherally aware of coronavirus (it was mid-late February 2020), but weeks later, when I was home and still feeling bad with aches, a bad cough, occasional fever, and diarrhea it occurred to me I could had covid19, but at the time it did not occur to me at all. So my next two days in Lahore were mostly spent in my dismal room, feeling awful. Thankfully I packed my first two days with activity, so I didn’t feel deprived, though I did wish I had picked a nicer place to stay.

Fortunately, the next night I did muster enough fortitude to see the dervishes. That’s for another post.

Asia Pakistan Pakistan/Oman trip 2020

More Lahore: the Fort, the Mosque, & the Old City

On my second day in Lahore, My plan was to explore the fort, mosque, and old city. I awoke early at my hostel. There was meant to be breakfast, but no one was up, so I went out for a walk in search of coffee. I walked up to the high street and meandered along until I saw a “food street”. Lahore has one popular and touristy food street, but the reality is that there are multiple food streets, which are basically just streets that are nothing but restaurants and food vendors.

It was a great street for walking. People, well, men actually, were gathering to eat plates filled with meaty offerings, flat breads, rice, and tea. I could not find anything vegetarian and I was later told that coffee is usually had later in the day. I did get a fresh carrot juice and a salty lassi, made by fancily dressed men who beat the thick yogurt into submission with long, wooden poles.

I wandered around a bit more, stopping to peer at the Lahore Museum and the Zamzama Gun (cannon) out front, which features in the opening lines of the Rudyard Kipling novel Kim.

There is a lot of grand architecture up and down The Mall with narrow streets crossing, where the architecture becomes…less grand, but also kind of wonderful. Narrow, colorful, and a bit chaotic.

I went back to my hostel where breakfast was served. Tea and a large, greasy, spicy flatbread with potatoes and carrots served on newspaper and with dishes that felt far from clean, on a table to match.

It was time to go the Badshahi Mosque. I think I could have walked, but it would have taken quite a while, so I jumped in a tuk tuk (which cost next to nothing after only minimal haggling) and was dropped off at the entrance to the mosque.

Head coverings and modest dress were required. I kept my head covered most of the time in Lahore, as it was difficult to know where it was and was not required.

The Badshahi Mosque was stunning. It did look a lot like the grand mosque in Delhi, but was much larger. It was completed in 1773 and is an imposing and delicate structure with graceful minarets and intricate jeweled inlay.

I walked around, watching equal parts of people praying and taking selfies. Clearly, I was in the latter group.

Right next to the mosque is the Lahore Fort, which is a massive citadel spanning 20 hectares and containing multiple buildings. There has been a fort there since at least the 11^th C (there have been settlements there going back to 2000 BC), but the fort that is there now dates back to the 16^th C, with most of it having been rebuilt in the 17^th C.

There is a modest entry fee to the Fort and headscarves were required. I opted not to take a guided tour, and instead just walked around the buildings. Definitely worth visiting, but I got a bit bored after a while and wanted to be back on the streets, so I exited through a gate – not the gate I entered through – and then had no idea where I was. There were decorative tuk tuks waiting and I had one drop me off at a specific to the Old City, where I had the start of a walk planned.

The Old City (aka The Walled City of Lahore) is a walled city within Lahore dating back to the 11^th C, but having been rebuilt since then. Like a medina in a Middle Eastern city, it is a labyrinthine city with appealing, traditional shops and mosques.

The best thing to do is just walk aimlessly, finding what there is to find. Eventually you will find a gate to exit through and if you are lost, there are always tuk tuks to rescue you.

I was delighted. I came across a traditional hookah and tobacco shop run by serious-looking moustachioed men. They used the type of hookahs that have long metal tubes that one smokes through instead of hoses. And the tobacco is not the moist, fruity variety; it is mostly dried and twisted into long thick ropes. The men there did not speak much English, but they understood that I loved their shop and they happily let me take photos.

Just after that, a young man who did speak English called me over to his cart from where he was selling yellow lentil cakes served with spicy sauce. Delicious. He insisted that I have one for free, though I did buy a second one.

I walked to the Wazir Khan Mosque, which I was looking forward to seeing, as it is known for being one of the most ornate mosques of the Mughal period.

After that, I walked around the Old City, browsing and taking pictures and chatting with locals where possible. I bought a new red headscarf.

I feel I should say that at no point did I feel unsafe or uncomfortable. I was dressed respectfully, though I did attract a fair bit of attention due to being an obvious tourist.

By late afternoon I made my way back to my hostel, as I had arranged to take a car to the Wagah Border that evening to watch the daily ceremony. I’ll put that in a separate post.

Lahore was just marvelous. I had plans to explore more of the city and different areas, though that was not to be; but the time I did spend there satisfied me thoroughly. The people were so friendly, the city was exciting, and the sights were impressive. It was exactly what I wanted.

Wandering North

Tag: Hostel

Albanian Arrival

Nouakchott, Mauritania

A bit about Mauritania

Arrival

The First Day in Nouakchott

Paris Layover: Overnight en route to Mauritania

Copenhagen Long Weekend: A pleasantly surprising start

Arrival

Exploring Copenhagen

Freetown Christiania

Smørrebrød, cigars, and my assessment of Copenhagen so far

Amman Arrival

Why Jordan / Why Now

Covid Travel

Amman

In Love with Lviv

Kyiv, Ukraine

Sufi Night in Lahore, Pakistan

Still Sick

Sufi Night

Winding up in Lahore

Wagah Border Ceremony – The View from Lahore

Wagah Border

Getting there

The Event

The Sickness Sets In…

More Lahore: the Fort, the Mosque, & the Old City