Very Interesting

A fellow traveller Scot from the US sent me this.

Gather ’round, children, for it is time to play a game. Grab a map and let’s count how many countries do not exist. One of them occupies a chunk of the Republic of Moldova. When Moldova broke away from the Soviets, the narrow strip of land to the east of the Nistra River wasn’t happy with that move. That region, called Transdniestra, tried to break away from Moldova. There was a brief civil war, and Russian peacekeepers still man the unofficial border. In the Romanian language, Transdniestra roughly translates as ‘behind the river.’ The local Communist government felt that was a bit of an insult, so their ‘official’ name of the breakaway region is Pridniestra, meaning before the river – it all depends on which way you’re facing. The region has its own currency and stamps, which are no good in any other country.

Getting through the checkpoint was no problem. I had a local with me who was my CouchSurfing host. On the bus from Chisinau (Moldova’s capital) to Tiraspol (breakaway capital), we passed by Russian soldiers who had an armored personnel carrier hidden in a pit by the side of the road under camouflage netting.

Visiting Tiraspol is like stepping back into time. Russian is one of three official languages, and is the default that most people use. Not much has changed since the Communist era. Visitors are not welcomed, and therefore are rare. I had to register my passport with the local police. There are new apartment buildings, but not many hotels. My host is basically as homeless as I am, so we couldn’t stay with his friends. The hotel we stayed at didn’t have hot water, at any time of the year. When I asked about that, he said civilization has not yet arrived in Tiraspol.

What the government doesn’t control, a company called Sheriff does. Sheriff runs most ‘private’ businesses in the region. They’ve got supermarkets, gas stations, security guard companies, the local football (soccer) team, banks, etc. Anyone who wantsto open their own business has to go through Sheriff to do it. The gas stations post prices in Transdnietrian currency, as well as in U.S. dollars. My host said people can use almost any currency (dollars, euros, rubles, etc) to buy stuff because the local currency isn’t valid in any other country in the world. He warned me to change my local money into Ukrainian cash while in Tiraspol, because no exchange house in Ukraine would accept it.

My host used to be a professional football player, and so we got to go play a match with some of his friends at the Sheriff stadium practice field one night. I had to keep my mouth shut as we went near the gate because the security was very strict. Some people who work at the stadium get patted down when they leave in the evening to make sure they’re not stealing anything.

The main square in Tiraspol features an eternal flame for soldiers who died in the civil war, as well as the graves of some of them. There’s a tank mounted on a monument, which is one of the three tanks the country had. I saw another tank in the town of Bendery, near Tiraspol. Down the street from the square is a large billboard of the local ‘president.’ He’s part of a group of three men. Guess who the other two are? The ‘presidents’ of South Ossetia and Abkazhia, the breakaway republics in Georgia. It’s also common to see pictures of Putin or Medveydev next to an image of Che.

On Wednesday afternoon I got to the Ukranian border with my host around 1pm. He headed back to TIraspol, and I walked through the control zone. I made it through customs without any problems, and the immigration officials let me pass by as well. But I got stopped by the final guard. He checked my passport and radioed back to the immigration office some question about me. I didn’t understand all of what he said, but he took me back to the office and I got to answer a lot of questions from a huge guard while he looked through my passport. I knew the game he was playing, but acted like I didn’t. He was a nice enough guy, the kind you’d have a beer with, but he was simply the product of a system with endemic corruption. We chatted for a while in a friendly way, and he finally let me know that if I kicked in five dollars for beer money, I could leave. The $5 bill I had in my wallet was ripped, and the $10 was as well. But, I had 170 rubles from Russia (roughly $7) and that served just fine. So now I can say I’ve bribed my way out of two places (Mexico back in 1998 to get into Belize). A $7 bribe isn’t that much, and I’ve had to pay as much as $15 in official fees while crossing the borders of Central and South American countries.

I’m in Odessa, Ukraine, now. Just a tip: anyone coming here should get reservations ahead of time. Find a cheap hostel was very hard and took six hours of hiking around with my pack, plus three stops at cafes to use the Wi-Fi. I came across a place listed in my very outdated guidebook that is now a two-star hotel. The cheapest two types of rooms do not include access to hot water. Now, it was cold enough to se my breath at 3pm yesterday. Not providing hot water to guests precludes a hotel from having any stars, in my mind.

Another update

Just to let everyone know, I did not go to France-Spain as I was unwell. I visited Stone henge and London instead. I’m still on the road. Back to London then Chester and Cheltenham then London again. I go to Denmark on October 7th and intend to backpack to Sweden and Finland.

We will see. Happy travelling to everyone Tonythetraveller

Morocco brief

I got assistance onto the ferry at Terifa, to take me across the Strait of Gibraltar to Tangeer, Morocco. A kind, friendly Moroccan exchanged my British pounds for Moroccan (D), which was approximately 15 D to £1. The journey across the Strait of Gibraltar took about forty-five minutes with an hour reversal in the process.

I had been warned that Tangeer was rough at night and dangerous and had nothing attractive for the tourist, except pick-pockets and beggers. I met a young backpacker from Finland and we decided to go together to find a taxi to take us to the train station – we were both heading to Marrakesh.

My passport was stamped on the boat and I crossed into Moroccan territory without incident. The port was almost deserted, it being around 8.00 PM. One Moroccan man approached and claimed he new where the taxis were and said a price for the journey to the train station. He asked for some money for showing us to the taxi rank. We just kept saying thank you and yes and no simultaneously. He was friendly enough. We were deposited at the train station ten minutes later after a quiet ride. The station was a modern looking building with white marble everywhere. We both perchased a ticket for the sleeper to marrakesh, a journey of some eleven hours then ventured outside to sample the air and wait for the departure. We had at least two hours to wait. It was a cool evening with a chill in the air. Tangeer held nothing of note and was so quiet it felt still. Once on the train, we bedded down to sleep and I was only disturbed once when the guard checked our tickets. I enjoyed the journey and slept soundly, waking an hour before the trained pulled into marrakesh. At the taxi rank my friend and I parted company, he going to his hotel and I going to my hostel near the main square. I payed 50 D for the taxi because I had no change. The hostel was comprised of two buildings separated by the centrol square named Djemaa el-Fna. I was met by an old man who spoke little English and some French. This building housed the dorms, but I needed to check in at the main house. This building held the reception. It was a lovely house (Medima) with comfortable couches and rugs scattered about the marble floor. It was where the included breakfast was taken every morning between 8.00 AM and noon. I checked in, payed for two nights and was walked back through the square to the dorms. I was given a bed in a ground floor room which contained four beds, but no bunks. There was one bathroom for the entire building. It was durty and the shower had no hot water.

I slept for several hours and on awaking, asked the old man to take me to get some food. I also got him to wash my clothes. He took me to a durty kind of café, a five minute walk from the hostel. I had a bottle of sprite and a kind of spicy casserole. It contained meat and some vegetables plus a round peace of bread. I soon discovered bread is served with every meal and in large quantities in Morocco. The meal cost me 50 D, though I learnt later I could barter for everything. In the afternoon, I went for a Moroccan massage. I had heard that the hostel could arrange massages so I asked for one. I was taken to a small house around the corner and went up some steep stairs into a narrow room. I removed my clothes and lay on a bed. A large man then rubbed oil into my back and legs and gave me a heavy Moroccan massage. He moved my heavy muscles and pounded my body. It lasted an hour and was impressive. It cost me 140 D. On my first or second evening I met an English backpacker and we explored the square together. I heard the commotion, the drums, the singing, different performers, all trying to make money. The centrol square was jammed packed every evening and it was just as caotic by day. Mopeds road in and out of the croud – not caring who or what they hit. Men everywhere shouted at us, asking if we liked Morocco or did we want to buy something. It was interesting and very different from Western society. My companion and I wandered around sampling different refreshments and enjoying the wild ambiance. We tasted orange juce at one stall and had a kabab at another. There were outside restoraunts with tressle tables. Paper place mats were layed and food put upon them. Once you were seated, a large round peace of bread would land, you gave your order and nothing happened for ages. Eventually, the food arrived, greecy and hot. I liked the small sausages and I also tried a kabab on a skewer.

I considered visiting some other cities, Casa blanca or Rabat, the capital, but once I had been tricked into spending 600 D on a magnificent belt and discovering my funds were lower than I had figured, I stayed put and waited for my time to pass.

I wandered the streets and square by day after taking the usual hostel breakfast. This consisted of bread, jam, a tiny glass of orange juce and tea/coffee. Their tea was interesting, peppermint flavoured in a small tea pot. It was poored into a glass resembling a shot glass. It was very hot and had to be sipped. However, it was refreshing.

I wandered round the market streets absorbing the mixture of sounds and smells. I got lost on many occasions and had to ask people to show me the way back. This cost me 10 or 15 D. one Arab gave me a ride through the market on his moped, which was a frilling sensation. It cost me 20 D, but it was an experience. The machine wobbled through the narrow streets passing different marketeers yelling out various prices and trying to get the foreigner to come and buy their goods.

It was on one of my many wanders that I got my cane broken! I was standing in the shade in a narrow street, about the wipth of two cars when this young man ran through the narrow space and stood right on my cane. It snapped in two. I swore and bent to inspect the damage. It was broken and almost useless. A man in a stall saw what had occurred and offered to mend it. He said it would cost 100 D! I laughed and said “To much!” he laughed as well and asked me to sit on a small wooden stool. We chatted as his friend put some wood around the break and tied it with strong tape. I thanked them and continued my explorations. The cane was not perfect but at least usable. Oh the joys of traveling blind!

I met the few people who became my friends on my third or fourth day. The first guy I met was an Italian named Nicola. I later met a Swiss Guy named Andreas. They were both in my room. I got chatting with the Italian first, he was in Morocco to explore the desert for a week or so. The Swiss was doing likewise. I told them about my travels and they were impressed. Nicola thought I was a bit strange, not being able to see yet using language of the sighted etc. Plus, the fact I liked to sing when I walked, which sounded strange to him. The three of us spent an afternoon walking the streets, eating in a few cafes and talking about travel. We met the girls in an alley when looking for the way to a kind of museum-palis. There were four of them, they were from England. They were studying in Spain and had come to Morocco on a ten day sight-seeing trip before returning to Spain to re-commence studies. Their nanes were Claire, Nisha, Hayley and Franchesca. We aall just fell into conversation and decided to team up and explore together. The palis we found was largely just ruins with a large square with trees in one corner and some old crumbling steps which led to a covered room in another corner. The weather was hot and it was quiet in the ruins – away from the traffic. It was outside the city walls which made a change from narrow alleys and the centrol plasa. In the evening, we went for a meal in an expensive restoraunt. The food was delicious, I had a lamb dish with rice and it was fantastic. There was a real table-cloth and cutlery. Nicola had met a local guy in his mid fifties, he took us to the restoraunt and afterwards suggested a night club. WE took two taxis and ended up in an upstairs place that contained old couples dancing to some strange loud music. I drank water as I new we would be charged an extortionate price for any drinks. I chatted to the English girls who were interesting and very pleasant. I especially liked Hayley who was studying English literature. We eventually left the club after an argument over the drink prices. Our Arab friend was drunk and got a little agressive, he was funny and acted strangely. I suggested walking back to the centre, the night was young, it was warm and it would cost less – I was down to my last 100 D by then! We arrived back at the hostel around 1.00 AM and I joined Nicola and one of the girls on the ruth patio for some air while they shared a joint. It was relaxing being with like-minded young people.

Marrakesh was interesting for two or three days, but on ones own, it quickly became borring. However, sharing its delights with other people made it more entertaining. The girls marveled how I managed to get about blind and seemingly unaided. I just smiled and said I trusted my ability.

When the group left me to go on their various tours for a couple of days, I mostly rested in my dorm, only going on one main excursion. It was Nicola who returned first and he met up with some more of his friends who he introduced to me. They were reg and antoinette from Belgium. We met them around 8.00 Pm in the square and went for food, I had sausages as usual. After, we went to a bar for some drinks. They were interesting though a little quiet. Regie had large hands and Antoinette was gentle. On my penultimate evening, the English Girls along with Andreas returned from the coast and we all went for dinner and Drinks in the Djemaa el-Fna. I got to sit next to Clair this time and everyone gave me their sausages, which delighted me immensely!

We all caught up on each others events and laughed about different happenings. Andreas got teased about having been alone with four attractive girls!

Once the evening was over, I got kissed by all four girls and the following morning, Nicola gave me some money so I could get to the airport. We said farewell and I went to catch my flight back to England to wash my clothes and prepare for another adventure.

Travel Words

My name is Tony Giles from England, I am totally blind and severely deaf, yet I have travelled the world visiting all its continents.

It is a fantastic achievement and a dream come true. At a young age I desired to be independent after attending a specialist boarding school for the blind. I gained the mobility skills and confidence to believe I could do anything I desired. Further education presented opportunities to experience other countries. Once I was exposed to travelling in foreign environments, there was no going back – I was bitten by the travel bug!

It has been a privilege and a real education to travel the world, meet people from different cultures with alternative epistemologies and engage in all at a country and its people have to offer. I nearly always travel alone, meeting likeminded individuals as I go. I have made many friends and have created a vast global social network through travelling. It is my entire life and I love the challenge it provides.

My main goal for all of these adventures is to increase my knowledge and become a wiser and better more open-minded person. However, it is also about personal challenge and discovery. I challenge my fears and discover not only new peoples and cultures, but also I learn more about myself and that is exilerating.

I am exceptionally lucky in that I have a private income from my deceased Father, this enables me to travel without having to work. I journey as a backpacker, choosing the cheapest accommodation, often buying my own food and travelling by the most cost affective means. However, my income is constant so I do not have the worry of becoming broke when on the road!

I like to engage in many activities while travelling, from meeting local people to mixing with other backpackers who are often found in hostels – cheap shared accommodation for travellers. I have bungee jumped twelve times and sky-dived in Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, the fact that I cannot see the ground only makes it easier and more frilling!!!

I want to get the most out of my journeys, so participate in as much as possible. Trying the local food and hearing a country’s music is a must when travelling, as it not only enables me to use my other senses but it also gives me a greater impression and appreciation of a country’s culture. Travelling teaches one to be open-minded, to try things, to be receptive. It is about being open to new ideas, concepts and not afraid to try the unknown.

Travelling can be a buzz for anyone, doing it blind can be even more rewarding. I engage all my senses to discover a countries delights.

It is not all a bed of roses and travelling for a prolonged period gets tiring. You are constantly having new challenges and have many emotions to tackle and often fears to overcome. Many regions of the world are dangerous and one has to be permanently aware, it is this which is the most exhausting. It has its frustrations like any challenge. Probably my biggest problem on the road is cooking/eating. Hostel accommodation though great for meeting people, often lack good kitchen facilities and the ones that do, also lack disabled friendly appliances. If in Asia or Africa, it is cheap enough to dine out, but this becomes a chore after a couple of months. Plus, when on a budget eating is the first area where cutbacks are made. The theory being, ‘I’m here to experience the country’s attractions, eating can wait’. I also get disenchanted with food after about three months of travel, I still do not know why.

Travelling the globe over the last ten years has taught me much, both about the world and myself. There was an occasion when I was travelling in Canada, I had made it to the Yukon Territory and had decided to camp. I was alone and pitched my tent in a field; near a path so I could find it again with my cane. I went off exploring. I returned later that night to discover my tent and backpacks gone. I hailed down a passing motorist who helped me to search and later took me to a Salvation army hostel for the night. Kind people took me in, gave me a bed, a meal and new clothes. Initially, I was angry with myself thinking that if I could see I would have pitched it in a better place. However, the experience taught me that things could have been worse, I could have been attacked and injured or even killed. I had lost all my gear, but they were just possessions. The only things that really matter is one’s health and family and friends. I also realised that even though something bad had happened to me, there were still good people willing to help. Since that experience, I have travelled light with just one small backpack and maintain that anywhere I go in the world, there will always be kind people to help me along the way.

I am exceptionally lucky, I have the time, money and confidence to travel. It is what I love and it gives me so many rewards. I put myself in the situations and I am positive and willing to have a go, despite my disabilities. If people see you trying, they are usually willing to meet you half way.

Having an outgoing and positive personality helps. But anyone can travel if they desire, disabled or not, male or female, rich or reasonably poor.

I would not give anyone any advice except follow your dreams and live life to the full.

Alternative travel

I was sent this from a friend who is also deaf and blind, enjoy.

Kayaks, Unicycles and Rickshaws – July 15, 2008
By Andrew Shanahan – The Guardian

Why travel to work like a sardine squashed into a tin?
Andrew Shanahan meets the commuters who have ditched trains, buses and
cars for less conventional transport
 
Bill Corr, Software Engineer
Rickshaw
When my wife decided to start working again, it seemed like we’d need
to get another car to get the kids to school. We really didn’t want to
because I work at home [but do the school run] and it just seemed like
a waste, so we explored alternatives and I found this rickshaw on the
internet. I showed it to my wife and I thought she was going to say,
“Don’t be stupid!” but she said, “That looks really cool!” which
flabbergasted me. So that set the idea in motion.
 
We were very dubious about whether it would be feasible because it’s
very hilly in this part of Devon, which is why we chose a motorised
rickshaw, to give me some help pedaling a full load of about 200kg up
a 1:4 hill! It cost us about £5,000, which was pretty expensive but
they have a very high resale value. When it arrived in February it was
quite cold and rainy and I thought that might put the children off it,
but they absolutely love it, and it gets a very favourable reaction
from most people.
 
On the school run there’s quite a long hill where you have to park
your car at the bottom and walk up. I’ve lost count of the number of
times I’ve given other kids a ride up the hill and then given a load
of mums a lift back down. It’s designed for three adults but you can
get six kids in it.
 
I definitely think people should look for alternative ways of doing
their current commute. It does make me laugh that people drive a few
miles to work, drive home and then drive to the gym. Why don’t they
just cycle to work? People are stuck in the mentality that a car is
what takes you to work and back.
 
I have always lived outside of that car-loving mentality simply
because I adore cycling. The other thing we’ve found is that commuting
can be fun. If I’d only bought the rickshaw because of the
environmental benefits and the children hated it, we would have spent
a fortune to make the children miserable. Fortunately, it’s a scream,
it’s cheap to run and I can be smug about the fuel prices rising!
 
Chris Dawes, Chief flying instructor
Microlight
On an average day it takes me about 15 minutes to fly the microlight
to work. It would take me about an hour and 20 minutes if I was
driving a car to work, so it makes sense. In the summer I may start
teaching very early and not finish until late – and the last thing I
want to do is get in a car for a long journey home. Flying is quicker
and definitely more enjoyable.
 
I take off from a field outside my house – for a microlight all you
need is about 150 metres of field to get airborne. So I get to the
field, kick the tyres and get in. As I climb away I take a bearing
straight for an old stone circle. I fly at about 3,000 feet at about
80 knots and there’s even a heater in the microlight – it has all the
mod cons. I don’t listen to the radio because when I’m commuting it’s
nice just to have time for myself without interruptions. Quite often
when I’m flying along I’ll see a traffic jam tailing back on the
motorway – and I always make sure I wave.
 
The flight is beautiful. In the morning you get a lovely light
slanting across the land far below you, and in the evening when I’m
getting home late the light comes from another angle and makes
everything look different again. People are always surprised by how
close you get to the birds when you’re flying. I see a lot of kites
and buzzards on the way to work.
 
I’d definitely recommend it as a form of commuting, although it takes
a minimum of 25 hours to get a national private pilot’s licence. What
most people do to get started is buy a share in a microlight. Then you
just pay for it by the hour for the fuel they’re using. You can get
shares in a really good microlight for between £4,000 and £10,000 and
you’re away.
 
Barry Gates, Computer consultant
Unicycle
I’ve been riding a unicycle to work for four or five years. I take a
car to the station with the unicycle in the boot, then an intercity
into Paddington and then I unicycle to London Bridge. The route’s
quite nice because it takes you into Hyde Park, past Buckingham Palace
in front of the guards and into Westminster Square, across the bridge
and past the National Film Theatre and to my office on the river.
 
There are several reasons why I do it: on a practical level it takes
the same amount of time as the tube – and I’m a unicycle hockey player
in my spare time, so this is a great way of keeping fit for that.
 
I think there is also an element that it’s a bit quirky, which I
suppose I enjoy. The unicycle is a big 36in wheel and the saddle comes
up to your armpit, so when you’re riding it you’re very tall . Perhaps
I have delusions of grandeur that I’m taller than everyone else when
I’m riding it! It’s also quite a relaxed start to the day because I
weave in and out of pedestrians and the cars don’t give me any hassle.
 
The reaction from other commuters is really good. Occasionally people
say that you’ve made their day and wave but then other days you might
get attacked! Most people are very accepting and think it’s a bit of a
laugh – and you get dialogue with regular commuters. At the office
people are used to it now, although there’s a lot of Indian offshore
workers in the building and I think they find it very bizarre.
 
It only costs a couple of hundred quid to get a unicycle and they are
very robust. Having said that I wouldn’t say it was a particularly
safe form of transport. You need a lot of practice to get the
confidence to go on a road. On a standard 20in unicycle you could
probably get to go in a straight line in a week and get to be a
confident rider in about two or three weeks. To get up to a bigger
unicycle is probably about six months. The good thing about that
though is that it means the unicycle is pretty safe from thieves – I
think most self-respecting criminals would get laughed out of town
just trying to mount it, let alone make a quick getaway!
 
Ricardo Assis Rosa, Assistant architect
Kayak
I started kayaking to work because I’m lucky to have a garden that
backs on to the river in Bath and the office is only about 80 yards
from the river. Also I have a terrible travel bug and I feel a need to
be moving all the time – this is a way of working in an office but
keeping this part of me happy because it makes it feel like I’m on a
journey or on a holiday every day. I don’t think it’s strange,
especially if you think that 100 years ago the river would have been
one of the main access points into Bath, so it’s just revisiting that
idea that a river can be used for commercial transport.
 
At work they think it’s great, we have a very environmental focus in
the office and this is just another way of putting those beliefs into
action. I think one of the key things about being aware of green
issues is to actually spend time with nature – with trees and rain and
the river – which makes us much more aware of why we make
environmental decisions.
 
From a practical point of view there aren’t many problems. When I
kayak, I have my work clothes in a rucksack; fortunately we have a
casual office so I don’t need to crumple a suit. Then I put my phone
and wallet in a Tupperware container to keep them dry if I capsize,
and my lunch in another Tuppperware box. The worst thing is that the
swans can be very territorial, especially during the mating season,
but I take some bread and pay my toll and they’re fine.
 
It’s funny but there’s one bridge I kayak under where I always see
people stuck in their cars. You look at them and you know that some of
them don’t even know they’re on a bridge and that this beautiful river
is right under their noses. But you do see people peering down
sometimes – and we look at each other and realise that we’re both on
our way to work.