bennedich
My name is Max. I like to travel.

Preparations
San Diego, United States
The weekend has been meticulously planned. Nothing has been left to chance. Two weeks ago, I drove my motorcycle from San Francisco to San Diego. It took two full days along highway 1 and the highlight was Big Sur. Awesome views, great motorcycling, and north and south of it there are plenty of beaches where you can camp at night and relax at day! I parked my motorcycle at Andy's house in San Diego and flew back to San Francisco. Today, Friday May 22, I take a 12 hour night bus from San Jose to San Diego. My gear all fits in a regular size backpack and consists of the following:
- 1" 3/4 length sleeping pad (15 oz)
- Emergency bivvy sack (3.5 oz)
- Hydration unit (3 l)
- AAA Baja California guidebook
- AAA Baja California map
- Some clothes, passport, 140 USD
The bike is a 2005 Suzuki DR200SE dual sport and has 6000 Miles on it.
What I learned today:
Don't take a bus to San Diego. Fly instead.
Big Sur.
The gear.
Summerland beach, east of Santa Barbara. Drizzling.
Food for the cat while I'm gone.
written by  bennedich on May 22, 2009 from San Diego, United States
from the travel blog: Baja Off-Road

My last day in Oslo
Oslo, Norway
My last day in Oslo is a bit hectic. I have a lot of things to pack and finish and the situation at work is just chaotic. For the second day in a row, I work until 7am and wake up to continue at 11am. "Are you taking the weekend off?" a woman asks me in the elevator as I enter with all my luggage. "I'm moving to USA" I reply "And I won't come back."
My office the night before departure.
written by  bennedich on December 4, 2008 from Oslo, Norway
from the travel blog: Ukraine, Iraq, Iran, etc

Manila
Manila, Philippines
I land at 3.30am in Manila after a ~13h flight. After passing immigration, I realize that I printed the wrong page from Wikitravel, I printed only an overview of Manila, so I have no detailed information or maps. Moreover, no information is available at the airport. I wait for daylight then take a series of "jeepneys" (minibuses) to reach the historic center of Manila (cost: about 60 cent).
I am pretty lost, but there's a 10k run going on called "Freedom run". I decide to join (walking) which turns out to be a wonderful sightseeing tour of the historic center. Then I have breakfast, visit Fort Santiago, Rizal park, Bayview. I meet some Filipinos who tell me there's not much to do in Manila, better head to Taal Volcano. I go there after lunch. My plan is to take a nightbus to Banaue in the evening, so I'm very pressed for time to reach the Volcano and back. Luckily, on the bus to the Volcano, I meet tricycle driver Lui-Lui. Upon arrival in Tagatay, the rain is pouring down (it's rain season), and Lui-Lui takes me in his tricycle down to the lake where the Volcano is, then I take a boat over to the Volcano.
On the foot of the Volcano, some people tell me it's too muddy and steep to climb the Volcano by foot, so the only option is horse. Never having ridden a horse before, I climb terrified and my budget nine-year old guide Cherry jumps on behind me, grabs hold of me and yells something in Tagalog and off we go...
Back in Manila I barely make the night bus to Banaue (I get the last seat). Next to me sits a guy from the Mountain village Batad about 16km outside Banaue. He tells me I definitely should go to Batad.
Manila historic center.
View of Manila.
Manila fortress. Watch out for flying golf balls.
My horse and guide Cherry.
Taal volcano. It is active, with water boiling at places.
Sunset at Taal volcano.
written by  bennedich on October 24, 2010 from Manila, Philippines
from the travel blog: Philippines & Taiwan

Getting to Batad
Batad, Philippines
I arrive Banaue around 5am. It's a town about 9h north of Manila, in the Philippine mountains at about 3500ft. I'm determined to go to the mountain village of Batad, but due to the typhoon last week, a series of landslides have closed the roads up to the mountains.
After breakfast, I find a motorcycle driver called Freddy who claims he can ride on top of the landslides to drop me off close to Batad. I hop on, and indeed he rides on top of the landslides, it's pretty cool, I just have to get off and walk one of them. After 6 miles we reach a really massive landslide, and Freddy says he can't take me longer. So I hike from there, around 6 miles on bad roads, climbing numerous landslides, then another 3 miles descending a small mountain trail to reach the village at around noon.
Batad is a truly remote place. The village is set on a mountain side surrounded by rice terraces. The only way to get around is by the steep trails they've created along the mountain. There are no motorized vehicles, I don't even see any electricity! In the Philippines, this area is called the Eighth Wonder of the World. It is so beautiful, that even the locals seem to spend most of their time just gazing at the rice terraces. Unfortunately, I'm so exhausted after the hike and the two nights without proper sleep, so I have some lunch, a shower, then collapse and sleep no less than 15 hours!
Freddy drives over a landslide.
A landslide on the way to Batad.
Another annoying landslide.
Arriving in Batad.
written by  bennedich on October 25, 2010 from Batad, Philippines
from the travel blog: Philippines & Taiwan

First dirt road!
Ensenada, Mexico
The bus arrives in downtown San Diego at 6am. I'm a bit tired and stiff and head to the gym for a morning workout, hoping to regain some energy. It doesn't work, so I head over to Andy's house for breakfast and a short rest. He reminds me of motorcycle insurance for Mexico and helps me get it online. I notice that I forgot the registration at home. This is pretty bad and will definitely be a problem if I get pulled over in Mexico.
The drive down to Tijuana is less than 30 minutes. No traffic at all at the border. Immigration guard tells me it will cost 262 pesos to enter Mexico (1 USD = 13 pesos). I reply "huh, it's supposed to be free?". So he gives me another form to fill out and I get to enter for free. Welcome to Mexico!
I drive straight down to Ensenada (1.5 hours), have lunch, then head to La Bufadora, a geyser 45 minutes south of Ensenada. Then I decide it's time to leave the paved roads and I select a 40 mile dirt route that will take me from highway 1, to the coast, pass a camp site, then back to highway 1. This should be a good warmup before I cross the desert. I'm a bit concerned since I've never driven on dirt before, but it turns out to not be complicated at all! It's a little bit like mountainbiking on dirt, except that the motorcycle weighs 250 pounds. At dusk I meet a farmer on the road and ask him if it's far to the beach. "No no, just 30 minutes." I drive for approximately 1.5 hours before I find an old abandoned camp site next to the water where I spend the night. Freezing! I have to wear all the clothes I brought, including the motorcycle gear.
What I learned today:
Don't park your motorcycle in a downhill. It will roll away.
La Bufadora. Super touristy.
Mexican immigration, Tijuana.
Geyser, La Bufadora.
When I see this I proclaim "no mames!!!"
Hmm. Let's go back and try another road.
Bulls and wild dogs roam the backcountry.
Campsite sign.
Campsite office??
written by  bennedich on May 23, 2009 from Ensenada, Mexico
from the travel blog: Baja Off-Road

Entering the desert!
San Felipe, Mexico
I wake up at 5.30am, and when I see the water and the direction of the road I realize that I made a wrong turn yesterday just after I met the farmer. I see on my map that I just slept at a place called "Los Muertos" -- "The Dead". So I backtrack 8 miles and take the correct road south along the coast. Fantastic driving! The road is pretty bad in parts, with big loose rocks and plenty of hills. After 3.5 hours I reach Erendira where I have breakfast. Then I get back to highway 1 and drive north back to Ensenada. I have a mechanic fix the tail part of the bike which came loose after all the shaking. I then head east on highway 3 crossing the whole Baja. There's lots of motocross riders here. At a broken gas station I meet a group of Mexican riders who tell me that there's an off-road race called Baja 500 coming up, and all the riders I see are pre-runners who practice for the race. They give me some gas and I tell them about my idea to cross the Juarez desert. They strongly advice against it unless I have a GPS since they say it's easy to make a wrong turn. "Go to Mexicali instead. Miau Miau, best whorehouse in Mexico" one guy says. "The girls there will love you" another says. "Long time" the first one clarifies. I look at my map and don't see how one possibly can make a wrong turn, there's basically just one road that I have to follow through the desert, then make a right turn after 27 miles. Amateurs.
When highway 3 meets highway 5 there's a security checkpoint looking for guns and ammunition. I need to fill up with gas before the desert and since the guards look so serious I try to lighten up their day a bit by asking "hay una bomba por aqui" which in Colombian spanish means "is there a gas station around here?". In Mexican spanish it means "there is a bomb here". Both guards jump and ask where the bomb is. I think it's hilarious. Further north I find a mechanic at the side of the road who sells gas of questionable quality in plastic bottles and I fill up the tank. The bike has a range of around 180 freeway miles on one tank.
I enter the desert at around 5pm. The first 8 miles are on a salt lake and offer great driving. As I come off the lake, I happen to end up on the wrong road but find out after only ~3 miles when a fence covers the road. I go back, find the correct road, and start driving north. The road is OK, but very sandy in parts, and I can keep around 10-15 mph. I drive until dusk and camp behind a little bank at the side of the road. This is the moment where I find out that I only have ~0.7 liters of water left and half a bag of chips. I do a little bedtime reading in my guidebook before I fall asleep and come across the following: "dangerous creatures like rattlesnakes and scorpions thrive in most of Baja's backcountry". Excellent! The night is amazing, so quiet and clear, and not cold at all.
What I learned today:
Don't tell a Mexican security guard that you have a bomb.
Camping at Los Muertos.
Breakfast of a champion.
Road leading to the water.
This is me.
Watch out for Chupacabras (blood sucking beasts).
Not So Easy St in Erendira.
Main street in Erendira.
Breakfast in Erendira.
Highway 3 in central Baja.
Where I fill up with gas before the desert.
Oups, wrong road.
Salt lake.
written by  bennedich on May 24, 2009 from San Felipe, Mexico
from the travel blog: Baja Off-Road

I never want to hear the word "landslide" again
Batad, Philippines
After breakfast at 6am, a 60 year old village man named Yun says he'll take me for a walk along some Mountain trails. It's been pouring down heavy rains all of yesterday afternoon and night, so it's very muddy and slippery. After about an hour hike we're almost back in the village, when I suddenly hear what sounds like gushing water. Yun stops as the sound grows in intensity, soon sounding like there's a roaring waterfall right next to us. Seconds after, some villagers come running along the trail shouting "landslide! landslide!" (same word in Tagalog). It turns out the slide has taken out a big chunk of Mountain, right where the trail was, only about 150 ft ahead of us! Had I not just stopped for photos, it could have meant the end of us.
Yun then takes me another route back. The hard route. It involves some pretty scary moments such as climbing on small and slippery outcrops of rock with 100+ ft drop under us (guaranteed death if fall). Yun helps me through some tricky parts by pulling me up and telling me where it's safe to put my feet (he's climbed these Mountains all his life). I am so relieved when we reach back to the village center.
There, I meet a Filipino called Steve and his German boyfriend Adrian. They have learned about an alternative route back to Banaue which involves a 5 mile hike along a Mountain trail (unfortunately with numerous landslides) until we reach the same road I arrived on the day before. So there are another 5 Miles hike along that road until my driver Freddy meets me with his motorcycle.
Back in Banaue around 2pm. I have a really bad headache probably from lack of food and water, so I just have lunch, some Internet, and then sleep approximately 12 hours.
Downtown Batad.
Me with Batad rice terraces.
Not a great shot, but this is the landslide that took out the trail in front of us.
Batad school.
Me and my guide Yun.
Steve asks an old lady for directions, but she only speaks some tribe language.
written by  bennedich on October 26, 2010 from Batad, Philippines
from the travel blog: Philippines & Taiwan

Caving in Sagada
Sagada, Philippines
I spend the morning sightseeing Banaue, then hang out with Steve and Adrian for a while until our jeepney leaves to Sagada (mountain adventure capital). We arrive Sagada about 2pm after driving along some pretty spectacular scenery. Steve and Adrian go to bed, and I meet a guide who suggest we do a cave tour. He says we can either do normal cave, or adventure cave. I tell him adventure cave sounds nice. Little do I know that my guide is insane. Completely deranged, in fact.
30 minutes later we arrive at the cave. He lights up some lantern from the 18th century and when he sees the look I give him he says to not worry, he has a backup flashlight. He asks if my camera is water proof. No, why? Oh, because we will be walking with water up to our necks. After about 15 minute descent into the cave he stops and looks very puzzled. "Strong water has moved the rocks around. We need to find another route." Ok..
10 more minutes and we reach a hole. He tells me to take my shoes off, and proceeds to throw them down the hole. Seconds pass before we hear them land. Seconds. He says "don't worry, there's a rope, you know how to rappel?". Yes, I've rappeled, but not with a slippery rope without safety line. 10 more minutes and we reach another hole. Same procedure, except this time he tells me "here, nowhere to put your feet, you must use only arms. can your arms carry your bodyweight?". After we climb down, he tells me how one girl he guided fell there. I ask if she was ok, he says yes, yes. So she could continue with the tour? Oh no, she had to be rescued, but at least she survived. Great.
About 10 more minutes and we reach an underground river. This is what he says: "Oh, river is strong today! Dangerous! Are you strong swimmer?" I ask him what happens when it starts raining. He says then the cave fills up with water by flash flood; you must never enter the cave while it's raining. I ask him, but what about if it starts raining if you're already inside the cave, then you don't know? His expression is blank. As if he never thought of that. The rain has been pouring down every afternoon for the last three days. Our next step is a free climb around a slippery boulder above the river. I tell him there's no f*cking way I'm doing it. After promising him I will still pay him, he agrees to go back. The last memorable quote on our way up is "Shit! (lantern starts to flicker) SHIT! (complete darkness) (1 minute pass) SHIT, I forget the flashlight, can you climb the rest in darkness?"
When we're back outside the cave, he tells me it probably was a wise choice; FIVE tourists have died in that cave. Three fell to their death while climbing and two have died by flash flood. We have some time before darkness, so he takes me to Echo Valley to see the hanging coffins. Of course, on our way he happily points out the spot where an Italian tourist took a wrong step and fell 100m to his death. When we arrive back at my guest house, he says we've had such a great time so he invites me for some shots of local alcohol. I kindly decline, have some dinner, then stagger to bed.
Downtown Banaue. There's a ~300 lbs alive pig loaded in the tricycle...
Guide with lantern, at cave entrance.
On our way out from the cave, just having climbed up the last rope.
Hanging coffins, Echo Valley.
Me and my cave guide. I'm like a giant next to the small Filipinos!
I fell down a rock wall (luckily landed on a rice field).
written by  bennedich on October 27, 2010 from Sagada, Philippines

Crossing the Juarez desert
Mexicali, Mexico
I wake up at 5.20am and decide to keep going north despite the water situation (~0.5 l left now). First of all, I will likely meet more pre-runners in the desert who can help me out (I can see tire tracks in the sand), and second, my guide book mentions Cañon de Guadalupe, a palm fringed oasis with campgrounds, waterfalls, a restaurant and a store and shows a picture of a big Coke sign. It's around 25 miles north of me.
The road becomes a little bit more difficult, but still manageable. After around 10 miles I cross a dried-out river that I recognize on the map, just before the intersection where I'm supposed to turn right. The right turn is so inconspicuous that I don't even see it. After about a mile I can tell (from the sun) that something is wrong. So I go back and find the small road heading north. After around 2 miles it turns really bad, just loose sand where I have no traction at all. The back wheel just digs down when I accelerate and my speed is reduced to ~5 mph. I hit a sand bank and drop the bike. Fortunately, I can pick it up (which is good to know since I was unsure if it was too heavy or not to lift). I stop every 30 minutes to take a small sip of water. It's getting pretty hot (97F/36C later today) and I sweat a lot in the motorcycle gear.
After 4 more miles I come to an intersection which is NOT on my map. Both roads are about equal size. This has me a bit concerned. I pick the left one since it goes in the direction of the mountains where the oasis is. After 4 more miles I encounter another intersection, precisely 10.2 miles after the river like my map says. I'm exhilarated, I just need to take the side road for 6.5 miles to reach the oasis and coca cola! I sip down half of my remaining water right there. After 4 miles, the side road just comes to an end in a sandy pit. I drive around for about 20 minutes looking for where to go. There is nothing. And the mountain is still far away. Moreover, there are no tire tracks at all here which leads me to believe that I'm either on the wrong road, or that the oasis doesn't exist any more (the guide book is 11 years old).
I go back to the main road and find a tree under which I sit down to think about what to do. It's unclear if I have enough gas to go back, I've only gone 80 miles on the tank (20 highway, 60 desert) but a lot of it has been spinning in the sand in 1st or 2nd gear, and in addition I always leave the engine running when I take a rest (since sometimes the engine doesn't start and I have to roll it to a start which I can't do in the sand). On the other hand, if I am where I think I am, it's only 30 miles north until I reach highway 2. I turn on my cell phone but there's no reception. There's ~0.2 l water left. I decide to keep going north.
A few more miles north I reach a ghost town and the road splits into several minor roads. I turn off the engine and listen, but there is nothing. I drive around and hit the horn, over and over. Nothing. I feel exhausted from the heat and constantly having to balance the bike through the sand so I lie down under a tree to get some rest. I continue after 20 minutes, picking the road that leads mostly to what I think is north. After around 2 miles, the road is joined by another road and becomes much better. It looks promising! After 5 more miles I come to an abandoned ranch that is marked on the map! Yey ! The rest of the drive is easy. With about 6 miles to go I meet a car, the first people I've seen since I entered the desert. I finally reach the highway, after 97 miles and 20h (10h driving). There's a refresqueria at the side of the road where I gulp down 2 liters of water. "Are you thirsty?" the store owner asks. I haven't eaten anything (except a few handfulls of chips) in 24 hours so I celebrate with grilled rabbit at a roadside grill. Two hours later I come to Tecate where I spend the night at a hotel, literally 50 meters from the US border.
Don't attempt to cross a desert with 0.7 l water.
Sun rises over my desert camp site.
0.5 l water left.
Tire track.
Dried out river.
Sandy road.
Annoying intersection. I end up going left.
Road that should have led to the coca cola but didn't.
Tree providing a little bit of shade.
Taking a rest and trying to figure out what to do.
Ghost town.
First water after crossing the desert.
The giant Tecate brewery.
Wall separating USA and Mexico.
written by  bennedich on May 25, 2009 from Mexicali, Mexico

Back to USA
San Diego, United States
The border opens at 5am. I wake up at 4.25am and find that I'm not the only one who planned to enter USA today. The line of cars is like a mile long. I drive around a few blockades and position myself 3rd in line (I think 1st or 2nd would have been very rude). The drive to San Diego is less than an hour on small curvy roads. I shower at the downtown gym, have breakfast and drive out to the airport to catch my SF flight. Free unlimited parking within walking distance to the terminal, sweet! I'll return to pick the bike up in a week or two.
Nothing, for I am fully learned. Ready for Sahara!
Cat did not eat much on Sat and Sun.
My room at the hotel in Tecate.
1. La Bufadora 2. First night 3. Second night 4. Third night
written by  bennedich on May 26, 2009 from San Diego, United States

Sagada - Baguio - Manila
Baguio, Philippines
I do some early morning sightseeing of Sagada, then leave on a 6 hour bus to Baguio. The views are even more spectacular today. We're driving over mountains, rivers, through clouds, rice terraces and all sorts of plantations. I spend the afternoon sightseeing Baguio, it's a pretty big town. At night I catch a bus back to Manila (I have a flight leaving at 7.40am).
Quick summary of what I've seen of Philippines:
- Food is ok, nothing spectacular. Mostly rice, eggs and some kind of Chicken stew.
- Very cheap. I paid $3.50-$5.50 for a private room (shared bath), and $1.70 is common for a complete meal (soup+main course).
- People are generally poor but friendly. Most women I see are either pregnant or carry a baby. Tourists are few and far in between.
- English is widely spoken, in fact all official signs seem to be in English. The country also has a strong Spanish heritage. This is evident in many foods (tocino, chicharron, longaniza, etc), words and numbers. (E.g. you'll hear someone ask about the time in Tagalog and the reply is "las once".) This makes traveling here very easy.
Some crazy people in Sagada downtown.
Here, in the mountain village of Sagada, I find the long sought for vaccine against the dreaded HIB.
Sagada church.
Each sack contains two live piglets. This was to go in our bus, but didn't fit. (We did have some chicken in our bus though.)
Baguio downtown.
Baguio market.
Baguio lake.
written by  bennedich on October 28, 2010 from Baguio, Philippines

A night in Prague
Prague, Czech Republic
I have a one night stopover in Prague and am staying with a Mexican guy named Eduardo. He studies "relaciones internacionales" and went to the same school as me in Mexico! After having slept 4 hours a night for the last two nights, I hope to get some sleep... but Eduardo has other plans. He takes me sightseeing in the middle of the night then we head out to a bar where we meet up with his girlfriend and have some drinks. We get back home at 3.30am and set the alarm for 6am in order to catch my early morning flight to Kiev.
written by  bennedich on December 5, 2008 from Prague, Czech Republic
from the travel blog: Ukraine, Iraq, Iran, etc

I arrive in Taiwan
Taipei, Taiwan
I have a rough night at a Manila bus station and airport, fly out at 7.40am and land in Taipei at 9 something am. I quickly discover that Taiwan is a very Chinese country. English is not very widely spoken. This makes getting around a bit of a challenge, especially since I don't have a good map. After having a delicious lunch near the railway station, I spend about 1.5 hours looking for my hostel. Apart from the map situation, I learn that a street name can be transliterated in different ways, so what I see on the street sign and my map is not necessarily the same. Wonderful. So after 1.5 hours I finally get a hold of someone who speaks English and she tells me the hostel has moved, she doesn't know where. I am very angry at Taiwan at this point. Were it not for the good food, I would probably fly home right away. 45 minutes later I find another hostel.
I spend the afternoon sightseeing the city; visit Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall, Longshan temple and the Xinyi shopping district. I don't go to Taipei 101 since it's raining a little and the view wouldn't be that great. I also buy a train ticket for 7.18am tomorrow morning to the Taroko gorge (3 hours south of Taipei).
Yummy Taiwanese food! And spicy!
Lost in Taipei.
Some kind of monument.
Some temple and people praying.
written by  bennedich on October 29, 2010 from Taipei, Taiwan

Taroko Gorge
Taroko National Park 太魯閣國家公園, Taiwan
I wake up at 5.30am, have breakfast at the train station and set off to Hualien, a medium-sized city about 2-3 hours south of Taipei. There I rent a scooter and drive up to Taroko Gorge. Spectacular scenery! And driving there on a scooter makes it so much better. This might have been the best experience of the vacation. It was supposed to be light rain and overcast today, but luckily the weather report was wrong; it's a sunny 23°C (73°F). I drive up to about 1000m altitude (~25km into the gorge) before turning back, stopping for lunch, photos and several small hikes on the way. I return back to Hualien at 6pm, and Taipei at around 9.30pm. Then I go to Shida night market. It is very busy. It's funny, whereas in Philippines, almost every woman was pregnant, here I don't see any pregnant women. And whereas in Philippines, almost no-one wore glasses, here it seems to be stylish to wear them. Many girls even wear glasses without any glass in them! It is a strange place, Taiwan.
Me, my scooter and my stylish helmet.
House and waterfall.
Inside a pagoda.
Me (bottom) and Buddha (top).
Blue river.
written by  bennedich on October 30, 2010 from Taroko National Park 太魯閣國家公園, Taiwan

Meeting up with Rostik
Kiev, Ukraine
Rostik, my ex-colleague from Oslo, meets me at the airport in Kiev. We go to his place to dump my luggage then we head out sightseeing Kiev. It's a beautiful city, similar to Minsk but the buildings are even larger here. It's also really cheap, much thanks to the economy crisis. In the evening we play poker and drink honey pepper vodka with Rostik's flatmates and we go to bed at around 2am.
People dancing in the metro station.
Chicken and vodka with Rostik's flatmates.
written by  bennedich on December 6, 2008 from Kiev, Ukraine
from the travel blog: Ukraine, Iraq, Iran, etc

Sightseeing Kiev
Kiev, Ukraine
Today I was supposed to go to Chernobyl, but the trip got canceled. Instead we spend the day sightseeing Kiev. In the evening we play more poker and drink cognac from Rostik's hometown.
Me in front of a medium range nuclear missile.
Rostik eating Ukrainian borscht.
Memorial for the great famine in which 4 million Ukrainians died.
written by  bennedich on December 7, 2008 from Kiev, Ukraine

Leaving Kiev
Kiev, Ukraine
A snow storm hits Kiev and we mostly stay at home. I buy a new 70 l backpack at the market (for 16 euro), so now I can carry 135 l in total. In the evening I fly to Ankara and meet up with my friend Eda who visited me in Oslo a few months ago.
Close to Rostik's house.
written by  bennedich on December 8, 2008 from Kiev, Ukraine

Sightseeing Ankara
Ankara, Turkey
We sleep until late and spend most of the day sampling Turkish food and drinks. We visit Eda's university and the Attaturk Mausoleum. Apparently I bring the bad weather with me as it snows for the first time of the year. In the evening I order some kind of meat kebab on the street. The street vendor asks me why Turkey is not allowed in the EU. I tell him and he starts chopping the meat. As I eat I notice he starts laughing. Eda says to just keep eating and she'll tell me later what's up. And later she explains "This meat is prohibited in EU. It's made from part of animal where shit goes through."
Snow and sun, close to Attaturk's Mausoleum.
Eda's study.
written by  bennedich on December 9, 2008 from Ankara, Turkey

Ankara and Diyarbakir
Diyarbakir, Turkey
Today we visit a huge mosque and a castle overlooking all of Ankara. I tell Eda about my plans to go to Diyarbakir (city in eastern Turkey) and Iraq and she says "Yeah. Good luck with that." and she shows me a website with recent terrorist attacks in Diyarbakir. Eda thinks I will die before I reach the Iraqi border. Or at the very least at the border itself. But she gives me some advice: "Don't ever mention the word 'Kurdistan'. You'll get into trouble."
Due to religious holiday Bayram I'm not able to find someone to stay with in Diyarbakir and have to check into a hotel. I'm very disappointed to have to pay for accommodation for the first time in 41 nights. At the kebab place around the corner from my hotel I happen to sit down next to Bivar, an Iraqi Norwegian guy who's heading to Iraq tomorrow morning. He's already arranged a driver and everything and offers me to go with him to Dohuk. It wasn't where I intended to go, but he tells me he'll visit his old refugee camp and some other places along the way, so it sounds too interesting to say no. We leave tomorrow at 11am.
Mosque in Ankara.
View of Ankara.
written by  bennedich on December 10, 2008 from Diyarbakir, Turkey

Entering Iraq
Dihok, Iraq
Bivar calls me at 10am and says the car is outside my hotel and we have to leave immediately. I sit in front and Bivar goes in the back with some luggage and a wife. We make several stops along the way to eat, drink tea, take photos and visit historical places. As we arrive in Silopi close to the Iraqi border we have to stop to empty all the gasoline from the car since we risk being charged with smuggling if we enter Iraq with too much gas. After Silopi there are several kilometers of trucks lined up waiting to cross the border. Bivar tells me they can wait here for weeks. A few hundred meters before the border we run out of gas. Bivar swears at the driver as he gets out to push the car towards the border while Bivar leans forward to take the wheel.
The border basically consists of two parts: leaving Turkey and entering Iraq/Kurdistan. When leaving Turkey I am called into a small office and questioned about my motives. Bivar comes with me and has prepared a story about how we know each other from Norway and how I come to visit this area for socio-anthropological reasons. After 5 minutes we're done, and after 20 more minutes our driver comes running with a PET bottle of gasoline and we continue to Iraqi immigration. Bivar knows one of the border guards there (the one with me in the picture) and we're treated tea while we're waiting for immigration to process our passports. Everything is very smooth and we're on our way within minutes.
We continue to Dohuk where I am at the moment. Tomorrow I will do some sightseeing here and then continue to Erbil. Non-Iraqi SIM cards do not work here so I've bought an Iraqi one and my number is +9647709142398.
Wall in Diyarbakir. Supposedly the world's second largest wall.
Graves of Mem and Zin in Cizre, the original Romeo and Juliet.
Noah's ark came to rest on top of this mountain.
Emptying gas.
Many kilometers of trucks waiting to enter Iraq.
Bivar and wife drinking tea at Iraqi immigration.
Me at the Iraqi border.
written by  bennedich on December 11, 2008 from Dihok, Iraq

Mohammed Mohammed
Arbil, Iraq
Wow... what a day. I wake up in Dohuk without electricity. There's extreme power shortage in Iraq so this is normal. I do some sightseeing and try to look for an ATM but people I ask just look at my visa card as if they've never seen one before. I have euro but not a lot so I would have preferred to save it, but now I have to change it on the street. I get 76000 Iraqi dinars for 50 euro.
I meet a guy on the street called Steve. He describes himself as a warrior from Mosul. He has two scars across his face and speaks with authentic American accent, although he's a Christian Iraqi and never left the country. He shows me pictures of him and American soldiers. He's like 8 years old. Or 11 at most. He shows me around for a while and helps me arrange a shared taxi to Erbil. I stick him a 1000 dinar banknote for his help. He hugs me and says "keep it real man".
The taxi to Erbil is 2.5 hours and 20000 dinars. There are no buses in Iraq. Bivar told me to stay away from Mosul if I wish to leave Iraq alive. The taxi basically circles Mosul, 20 kms from the city. We leave Kurdish area for a while, but everything feels safe.
In Erbil I'm staying with Mohammed Mohammed. Mohammed provides Kurdistan with satellite Internet. He is doing fairly well. He picks me up with his BMW and we go to his house where he lives with his mother and brother. On the way he needs to change engine oil, but has trouble paying because he only carries 100 USD bills. His mother makes me lunch and later we head out to meet Mohammed's friend David, a British architect working for UNESCO. We go to a top end Lebanese restaurant and are taken to the VIP table. The food is good and the raki (Turkish liquor) is strong. The power goes out 4 times during dinner. Mohammed and I continue to Ankawa Palace to meet up with his other friends who all belong to the elite in Erbil. Richest of all is Zatan, good for 20 million USD. We drink only chivas regal 18 year old and smoke nargileah (water pipe). There are no Iraqi dinars around the table, everyone carries 100 USD bills. I'm not allowed to pay for anything during the evening.
Dohuk dam.
On the road between Dohuk and Erbil, close to Mosul.
Lebanese dinner. Amin (Syria), David (UK), me and Mohammed.
At Ankawa Palace.
written by  bennedich on December 12, 2008 from Arbil, Iraq

Erbil
Arbil, Iraq
Bad news. I just found out there are NO international ATMs in Iran, and possibly nowhere in northern Iraq either. This is bad because I only have 200 euro, 5 USD and 10 more days before I leave Iran.
I meet up with David at 10.30am for a tour of the citadel, a huge fortress on top of a hill in the city center, 8000 years old. David is working on the preservation of this thing and is trying to make it a world heritage site. Most of the citadel is closed to public, but that doesn't bother David. As we climb over one of the blockades, peshmerga (Kurdish military) comes towards us with a machine gun. Amin, a Syrian guy working with David, translates: "He say we can not go". David ignores him and mumbles "We're UNESCO, we can go wherever we please". Afterwards we have lunch, mutton and rice, courtesy of UNESCO.
I spend the afternoon sightseeing the city center and the bazar. The city is a bit chaotic but still enjoyable. A lot of people are curious about me and ask where I'm from. Almost everyone has a relative or friend who lives or has lived in Sweden, so I'm very well received. As it gets dark Mohammed picks me up and we go play bowling with Zatan & co. Then we have dinner, Iraqi pizza, mostly in darkness due to a blackout. We drink tea, drink tea again, then head home to Mohammed to watch some TV.
Steve calls me at 10.30pm and asks if I'm married. Apparently he can set me up with an Iraqi woman if I come back to Dohuk. I tell him thanks, but I'm heading to Iran. He says "be safe man, you might get killed".
The Erbil citadel.
Sador, from the Iraqi/US special armed division.
Erbil seen from the citadel.
Men in Erbil.
Street in Erbil.
Inside the bazar (market) in Erbil.
written by  bennedich on December 13, 2008 from Arbil, Iraq

More of Erbil
Arbil, Iraq
Before breakfast, Mohammed goes out to start his car. He leaves it with the engine running for a good 45 minutes to make sure it's really warmed up when he drives to work. When we get to his office, he asks one of his drivers to take me around to the places in Erbil that might have international ATMs. We try 6 ATMs but none work. I give up that idea and go to the big mosque instead. It's closed to non-muslims, but the imam's brother and uncle live in Sweden so he's nice and lets me in to have a look. Afterwards, I sightsee pretty much all of central Erbil that I didn't see yesterday. It's actually a charming city, in a way.
In the evening, Mohammed takes me to Hawler Restaurant, the most upscale restaurant in town, where we have excellent food, whisky and smoke narghilea. After two hours, we get the main course. The owner of the restaurant, who is a friend of Mohammed, joins us to smoke. He has a deluxe narghilea, bigger and with a much wider tube so he can smoke more. He also has family in Sweden and has been there himself. His brother was the former leader of the Kurdistan Democratic Party. Mohammed knows an insane amount of people. As we get home, Bush has just got attacked by shoes in Baghdad. The Iraqis can't stop laughing about it.
Tomorrow I'll try to enter Iran through the Haji Omaran border. I'm not sure if the border is open for westerners. I've done a lot of research and haven't heard of a westerner that has passed here. I've spoken to one who's tried though, a war correspondent who's been to Iraq 8 times. He tried to cross earlier this year and was not allowed through. But I think I'll make it. I leave tomorrow morning.
Mohammed's car with the engine running.
A huge amount of cars stolen in Europe end up in Iraq.
Big mosque.
Street sign.
Fruit seller.
"Doctor street"
written by  bennedich on December 14, 2008 from Arbil, Iraq

Crossing the Iraq/Iran border
Piranshah, Iran
One of Mohammed's drivers takes me to the "garage" in the morning and helps me arrange a shared taxi to Haji Omaran at the Iranian border. I share the taxi with two Iranians and one Iraqi. The Iraqi carries a handgun that he hides in the seat pocket in front of him. The ride takes 3 hours and is very beautiful, we pass through canyons, over rivers and next to snowy mountains. We're stopped several times at military checkpoints, but there are no problems, we just show our passports, the soldiers usually give me a confused look and ask (in Kurdish) where I'm from, and we're allowed to continue.
The border itself is stunning, really basic, just some shacks and a nice set of gates, but it's set in the highest point of the mountain pass, surrounded by mountains and lots of snow. I pull out my camera to photodocument this moment, but Abobakrmahmode who's sitting next to me freaks out; "No no! Soldiers! Danger danger!". The crossing itself is a breeze, no problems at all. Well, except for a short moment when an immigration officer asks me for my purpose of travel and I have my thoughts elsewhere and respond "terrorism" instead of "tourism". Abobakr quickly jumps in to explain things after which the officer starts laughing. Abobakr laughs too, but looks more nervous.
On the Iranian side, I share a taxi to Piranshahr with Abobakrmahmode and the other Iranian who came with us from Erbil. Abobakr takes me to his brothers store; he creates gravestones. Then he invites me to his house for lunch. It's pretty cool, he lives together with his 3 brothers, 2 sisters, dad, wife, daughter and probably more people. There's a sitting room where we spend all the time. No furniture, just a carpet on the floor and cushions against the walls. Not at one point do I get to see the women, they keep in the kitchen, and when the men need something (tea, fried eggs, soup, etc) they just yell. When it's ready, the youngest brother goes to get it.
Only Abobakrmahmode speaks English, but still not really. He has a phrase book that he keeps flipping through and mixes phrases like "I am twentyeleven year old" and "This was an exquisite meal". The brothers are thrilled to meet a foreigner and they take me around town in their old beat up car, show me the garage where one of the brothers work, their fathers antique shop, etc. I give Abobakr a fluorescent keyboard that I brought from Sweden. He's really happy, even though it's in Swedish and not Farsi. In the evening we have dinner at their house and then they take me to the bus station where I'm getting on a night bus to Tehran. Abobakrmahmode tries to convince me over and over to stay at their house in Piranshahr, but I have to continue. He tells me "You go, I sad" and "Thank you for shiny keyboard", he kisses my cheeks three times and they all wave me goodbye as the bus leaves. I think I'm going to love Iran.
Mountain at Haji Omaran border crossing.
Taxi driver taking us from the border to Piranshahr.
Main street in Piranshahr. The gravestone store is first on the left.
English phrase book.
Dinner with Abobakrmahmode and his family. Abobakr is rightmost.
written by  bennedich on December 15, 2008 from Piranshah, Iran

Tehran
Tehran, Iran
I arrive to Tehran at around 6am. I am completely lost -- no guide book, no map and all signs are in Farsi. I only know I'm supposed to meet my friend Ali at 10am at some street downtown. I meet a guy named Mohse at the bus station, he takes me to the bus that goes to the metro, follows me on the metro, pays for all transportation, buys me breakfast and finally walks me 1 km to my meeting point. The only thing he accepts in return is my friendship. Amazing.
Eventually I meet Ali and we go to his place. They are 5-6 guys living together in downtown Tehran. Just like at Abobakrmahmode's place, there's a sitting room with a carpet where all the action takes place. After lunch, Ali and I do some sightseeing. When I take up my camera to take some pictures of downtown, Ali shakes his head: "You're not gonna take a picture, are you?" Iranians are very afraid of the police, and for a reason. At least three of the guys at Ali's place have been arrested. Ali was arrested and jailed for simply going to a coffeehouse with a girl.
Ali has to work in the evening so he arranges for me to meet with his friend Reysan. She suggests we go to a coffeehouse where we have some coffee and pizza. Outside, the snow is bucketing down, the first snow of the year incidentally! I walk Reysan home and she suggests I come up to her apartment. Thinking about the Iranian police, I tell her I probably shouldn't. I get back to Ali's place around midnight and he says it was very wise since she could have gotten into serious trouble. The day ends in "Iranian style", I brush my teeth with salt and hot tap water and sleep on the carpet on the floor.
I've bought an Iranian SIM card by the way and my number is +989373693430.
Tire shopping mall.
My wallet after I change 100 euro to Iranian rials.
Reysan.
Snow.
written by  bennedich on December 16, 2008 from Tehran, Iran

The sheep head
Tehran, Iran
I'm woken up abruptly at 7.30am. It's eid, religious holiday, the anniversary of the prophet or something like that. Some of the guys have been up almost all night and prepared something special -- sheep head and coca cola! This is a real feast, only eaten twice a year. The meal consists of two parts, first is the sheep head water which is the fluids that came out of the head as it was cooked. It's mixed with bread and eaten as soup. Second is the sheep head itself, with the brain being most delicious of all. I eat sheep brain, sheep jaw and sheep forehead. Then we drink tea and smoke qalyan (water pipe).
After breakfast we all go out for some sightseeing and visit the national museum. Then we head back home where we just spend the afternoon chatting, drinking tea and playing cards. I learn a lot about Iran today. We have late lunch and I realize it's been 5 days now where I've only paid for food once (in Iraq, cost less than 1 usd), so it might not be a problem after all that I don't have a lot of money.
Not much happens in the evening, we go around the city a bit, buy my bus ticket to Esfahan for tonight and meet with one of Ali's (girl) friends. At one point, Ali and I pass a huge army building. It's lit up and looks very impressive. I can't resist the urge, so as Ali continues walking, I pull up my camera and point it through the fence. Ali turns around and sees what I'm doing; "Max, don't do that!!" he yells. Seconds later, a soldier comes running towards me with a machine gun, shouting in Farsi. He quickly relieves me of my camera. The next 20 minutes are spent arguing whether I'm a spy or not. Then all of a sudden I get the camera back and we're allowed to go. Ali whispers "Go go go, don't look back!" He says we were very lucky; another foreign friend of his was deported after a similar incident.
I leave to Esfahan at midnight and the trip takes 6 hours.
Eating sheep head.
Smoking qalyan.
Imam Khomeini square. They used to hang people from the statue.
Me, Ali (right of me in the photo), and two of his flatmates.
Fruit store.
written by  bennedich on December 17, 2008 from Tehran, Iran

Esfahan
Esfahan, Iran
I arrive early in Esfahan, "the jewel of ancient Persia", and spend the whole day exploring the city, walking, walking and walking. It's a very beautiful city, it's just unfortunate that it's freezing cold all day. I am like a magnet of attention here in Iran; whenever I sit down to read, sip some tea or collect my thoughts, it usually only takes a few minutes before I have company. People asking where I'm from, why I don't have a wife, inviting me for tea, etc. One man carefully looks around him, then leans forward and whispers "Yesterday, I drank wine" (alcohol is illegal in Iran). Sometimes, this attention is a bit annoying. But mostly, I'm just amazed by the friendliness of the people here.
After everything I've seen today, I feel that I don't need another day here so I buy a ticket for the night bus to Shiraz. In the evening I call Shirin, a friend of Mohammed (Iraq) who lives in Tehran. She says she's interested in meeting me when I get back to Tehran. I'm surprised by how open, flirtatious even, Iranian girls are. I had not expected that.
Jameh Mosque.
Old man outside the bazar.
Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque.
Imam Mosque.
Koran quotes like this are all over Iran.
Si-o-Seh Bridge.
written by  bennedich on December 18, 2008 from Esfahan, Iran

Persepolis
Shiraz, Iran
I arrive to Shiraz in the early morning, wait for the sun to rise, then take a minibus to Marvdasht and walk around 1 km before I find a shared taxi to Persepolis. (The easy way would have been to just take a private taxi from Shiraz, but there's no challenge in that.) I get to Persepolis at around opening time and climb to the top of a small mountain to have breakfast while savoring the views of this ancient city. Priceless!
Early afternoon, I leave to walk over to another site with some ancient tombs. Three kids on a motorbike drive up next to me and start talking in Farsi. Somehow, I end up on their motorbike, and the kid in front drives like a maniac towards Marvdasht (~12km). Twice we negotiate roundabouts in the wrong direction and I realize that this 20 minute ride probably is much more dangerous than the 4 days I spent in Iraq. Once in Marvdasht, the trio gives me a tour of the city from the motorbike, of which I understand about nothing since it's all in Farsi. Then we drive to a residential area where their friends are hanging out outside a house. They're overexcited to see a westerner. They surround me, touching, dragging, poking. One of them puts a strawberry qalyan (water pipe) in my mouth and another invites me to his house for lunch. Eventually we get back on the motorbike and they take me to the minibus station. I try to pay for the ride, but they only allow me to pay for filling up the gas tank, which amounts to 9000 rials (90 US cents). Great experience!
Back in Shiraz I buy a ticket for a 15 hour nightbus to Tehran and do some sightseeing, but most things are closed since it's Friday (Islam day of prayer). A girl comes up to me on the street and invites me over to her house.. I can't recall ever receiving such an invitation back home (except for the prostitutes in downtown Oslo). I talk to Shirin again and she says she'll show me around town on Sunday. Oh! And she loves skiing and says she could take Monday off work and take me skiing north of Tehran. I love this country!
Me and Persepolis.
Persepolis.
The kids who take me on the motorbike.
Minibus in Marvdasht.
Shiraz citadel.
Creating a billboard in Shiraz.
written by  bennedich on December 19, 2008 from Shiraz, Iran

The Great Satan
Tehran, Iran
I'm a bit tired after having spent the last three days on night buses, so it feels good to be back in Tehran and with Ali. After a shower, shave and some haleem (Persian wheat breakfast -- great!) I'm ready to hit the town again. Ali's working so I'm on my own. As usual, I get a lot of attention on the street. Two Iranians give me their phone numbers; one offers to take me to his house in northern Iran where we can go water skiing and the other wants to take me on a city tour on his motorcycle.
The Nest of Spies (former US embassy) is the highlight of the day, covered in murals testifying to the evil of the Great Satan (USA) and how it will be defeated. Photography is strictly prohibited here, so I have to hide behind some trees on the opposite side of the street, which explains the bad quality of the photos.
In the evening I reunite with Ali and his friend Arash and we go to a really cool qalyan place, then we have dinner and cruise the city in Arash's car listening to underground Persian pop at maximum volume :) Underground means music influenced by the Great Satan, and/or about illegal topics (which is kind of hard to avoid here).
I also spend some time online trying to figure out what to do with the last week of my vacation. Since I've been freezing every single day of my vacation so far, I'm thinking some place warm, tropical, where I can just relax on the beach with a good book. The choice is obvious: Haiti. I leave on Dec 28.
Mountains north of Tehran.
Iranian version of the statue of liberty.
How to defy the Great Satan...
Ali and me smoking mint qalyan.
The qalyan place.
written by  bennedich on December 20, 2008 from Tehran, Iran

Shirin
Shirin picks me up with her car in the morning and shows me around northern Tehran (the rich part). I buy a lot of Persian sweets and candy and a few gifts at the bazaar. We visit a small mosque that has an inside more beautiful than any other mosque I've seen -- completely covered in mirror tiles. Unfortunately I'm not allowed to take any pictures :( We have great Persian food and drinks. It's a good day. Before I know it, it's evening. I notice that I don't have any Iranian money left, which I'll need for skiing tomorrow, so I run around the streets downtown looking for a street changer, but they're all gone for the day. I decide to try another strategy and start looking for foreign tourists, which is not very easy either. Finally, close to midnight, I find three Czechs in a hotel who agree to change my remaining 100 euro to rials, and at the best exchange rate I've got so far, great! All set for skiing tomorrow!
Shirin laughs and takes this photo of me eating haleem, since this is not how you're supposed to eat it.
Sheep head. What we ate the other day.
Graves for unknown people who died in the Iran-Iraq war.
Qalyan place. Smoking forbidden :)
To keep warm, people simply start a fire on the street.

No skiing :(
I'm up at 5.45am and use a combination of metro (10 US cents), bus (12.5c) and shared taxi (25c) to get to the Tochal ski complex in northern Tehran where I'm meeting with Shirin and a few of her friends. I'm struck by grief as we're told the Piste is closed today! So much for skiing in Iran. Instead, Shirin and I go downtown. For lunch we go to a restaurant in an art center. They have a special section for "actors and foreigners". In order to get in, Shirin ties her scarf like an Arab (rather than a Persian) and speaks Farsi with an accent, and I do my best to look foreign myself. Inside, we meet famous actor Behzad Farahani ("the Robert De Niro of Iran"). In the evening I meet with Ali as usual, and Reysan joins us out for the "last supper" before I leave Iran. At one point, Reysan's scarf slides down so her hair is visible. It only takes seconds before a guard tells her to cover up. I casually show them the photo of me and Behzad and they're green with envy. Ali joins me to the airport at night where my flight leaves at 4.40am. Tomorrow: Qatar!
Northern Tehran early morning.
It's not easy being American here in Iran.
Me, Behzad and Shirin.
Grand bazaar.

The most random thing just happened...
Doha, Qatar
I don't know how to describe it; comical, scary, coincidental. My plane lands at 6 something am in Doha, Qatar. My onward flight to Stockholm is tomorrow at 1am, so I have the whole day in Doha. An Indian guy named Najaf has offered me to come and feel like home in his apartment in central Doha. He leaves for work early, but has left the key under the doormat of the caretakers room. I take a taxi to Najaf's building and pick up the key. It's marked with the flat id so I easily find his apartment, take a shower and have some breakfast before I leave to explore Doha. I keep the key with me since Najaf has a spare. In the afternoon, the following SMS dialog takes place between Najaf and me:
N: I am leaving for my place now see you there
M: Ok, 'm on the bus.. 'll be there in maybe 30min.
[45 minutes later]
N: Where are you
M: At your place, watching tv. Where are u?
N: In my apartment, in which flat are you?
M: Flat c
N: Flat t at fifth floor!!
Yes that's right, I've been making myself at home in the wrong fracking apartment!! I get up to the correct flat, meet with Najaf and have some coffee, chat, etc. After around an hour we leave to go to the souk. Outside the house there's a man in his 50s, not sure from where, I'd guess eastern Europe. He's furious, yakking about having left his key under the doormat this morning for the cleaner to pick it up, but now the key is missing and he's tried to get hold of the cleaner for one hour. In fact, the key is still in my pocket. Najaf and I discretely place the key outside the caretaker's room and tell the man "There's a key on the ground here..." We quickly take off, thinking it's better not to be around when he realizes someone has been to his flat. I keep thinking I'm lucky the man didn't get home while I was showering or watching TV... situation could have been quite bad.
Apart from this incident, I try to see as much as possible of Doha today. In my opinion, it's very similar to other cities in the gulf, e.g. Manama, Abu Dhabi and Muscat, but even more boring. My favorite place is the Islamic Cultural Center where an albino Arab gives me a free personal tour of how ablution and prayer are done. During the siesta (1-4pm) I meet with Tunde, a Hungarian girl living here, and we stroll along the corniche and souk. It's sooo nice here, sunny and 23 C, corniche lined by palm trees.
In the evening, Najaf and I meet up with Dr Ahmed (Egyptian born and raised in Qatar) and Hin Yeong (Singaporean). I haven't had beer for 9 days, so we're determined to get some. There are a few bars here at the international hotels. We're first thrown out of Ramada because Dr Ahmed carries a knife, but at Sheraton we have more luck. It's a nice ending to this first part of my vacation. Around midnight, the trio drives me to the airport in Dr Ahmed's car. I fly to Stockholm at 1.10am.
Stranger's apartment that I was using.
Street.
Man in the souk.
Qatari feeding pigeons. Islam Cultural Center in the background.
Old Qataris in the souk.
Me and the pearl monument.
Villagio shopping mall, like a small Venice.
Najaf, Dr Ahmed and me.
written by  bennedich on December 23, 2008 from Doha, Qatar

Christmas
Stockholm, Sweden
I spend four days in Stockholm, Sweden celebrating Christmas with the family. I also do some packing (since I'm moving to USA), working, I get sick for two days, and I speak to (and miss) my Iranian friends Shirin, Abobakrmahmode and Ali.
Celebrating Christmas with family.
Kungsgatan, Stockholm.
Kids skating in Kungstradgarden, Stockholm.
written by  bennedich on December 27, 2008 from Stockholm, Sweden

Quick visit to San Francisco...
San Francisco, United States
I stay up all night packing and working, then fly to San Francisco at 9am, via Frankfurt. The flight from Frankfurt is overbooked and I'm told I'm bumped: I'll get 600 euro, hotel and a business class seat for the next flight. Awesome! Except that it means I'll miss my connecting flight to the Dominican Republic. They try to arrange things for me but in the end it doesn't work out so they let me board and bump someone else :( In San Francisco, my Silicon Valley based colleague Juan Pablo helps me out by meeting me at the airport and picking up my 40 kilos of luggage. At 10pm I take a domestic flight to Philadelphia.
I try to stay out of this area.
written by  bennedich on December 28, 2008 from San Francisco, United States

La Republica Dominicana
Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
I arrive in Philadelphia at 6am and have almost 4 hours to kill before I continue to the Dominican Republic. Plenty of time to head downtown for sightseeing and breakfast! When leaving Philadelphia, an immigration officer asks me where I live. I tell her I don't really live anywhere at the moment, which is the truth. She studies my passport. "You've been to some interesting places." She comes to the page where I've managed to get the Iranian and Iraqi visa next to each other. "Why don't you step over here for a while, Sir."
I arrive in the Dominican Republic at around 2pm. Unfortunately, I land in Punta Cana, about as far away from Haiti as possible on this island. I am supposed to be in Haiti tomorrow, but have no idea how to get there. (I deliberately didn't prepare in order to make things more interesting.) I exit the airport and find a guagua (local bus) which takes me to a bus station where I find a bus for Santo Domingo, the capital. The bus takes 3-4 hours during which I make friends with the bus driver. In the capital, he takes me to the hotel where he's staying, then we meet with his friend the taxi driver and the three of us go out to eat, they give me a short tour of the city and tell me how to go to Haiti. Great! They're very hospitable, although one difference between them and all the Iranian people I've met recently is that they're happy to see me pay for things :)
Philadelphia.
I have breakfast here.
Airport in Punta Cana.
Street in Dominican Republic.
written by  bennedich on December 29, 2008 from Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic

At the Haitian border, she asks if I want to marry her...
Port-au-Prince, Haiti
At 6.45am I go to the Haitian Embassy, outside which there are buses leaving for Haiti. Haiti: the poorest country in the western hemisphere. The bus is already full when I get there, but I'm still sold a ticket. It's handwritten, on the back of a cornflakes box. To accommodate for more passengers, they simply put plastic chairs in the aisle of the bus. Right before the bus leaves, a car pulls up with 5 large black rectangular packages, which are loaded at the back of the bus.
The journey can be described as insane at best. It's me, a Peruvian man with his Haitian wife, and around 40 other Haitians, all black. There's loud merengue streaming out the speakers throughout the trip. Everyone is talking and shouting to one another, even though I assume they didn't know each other before the trip started, and things are passed back and forth; food, alcohol, a baby. I'm invited for both food and alcohol during the trip by the friendly Haitians. Everyone refers to me as "blanco" (means white). A girl sitting at my side is touching my skin and speaking to me in creole (language in Haiti, resembles French). A guy at my other side (I'm in the aisle) speaks Spanish and translates: "She wants you." We arrive at the border around noon, it's really busy, like a big market place. When we sit there waiting for our passports, the girl asks if I want to marry her. I contemplate it for a moment, she's 19 perhaps, very beautiful. I tell her it probably wouldn't work.
The border is set next to a lake. Somewhere before the border, the black packages disappear without me noticing. As we've passed, we see a huge black guy without much clothes rowing like a mad man over the lake. He rows towards us, and I see that the black packages are stuffed in the boat. They're quickly loaded on the bus, and we continue towards Port-au-Prince, the capital of Haiti. When I arrive, I call my Haitian friends and they come and pick me up. I'm staying with a Haitian girl called Natasha. There are always a lot of people in her house; friends, family and also another blanco: Jason who happens to be a computer engineer from San Francisco.
At the Haitian border, and the bus and some people I travel with.
Outside Natasha's house.
View from Natasha's place.
At Natasha's.
written by  bennedich on December 30, 2008 from Port-au-Prince, Haiti

New Year's in Haiti
Port-au-Prince, Haiti
After breakfast, Natasha takes me to a slum area of Port-au-Prince (PAP) to visit an orphanage and a school where she works. It's very very interesting to see since the life here is so completely different from say Sweden or USA. Even at Natasha's place, things are not exactly the way I'm used to at home. For example, there's no running water so we have to go get water from a well.
Tonight we're having a new year's party at Natasha's place. Jason and I spend most of the evening cooking and grilling. There's also beer and dancing. Suddenly it's 2009 and everyone is hugging and kissing. After midnight I leave with two Haitian girls to a club called Jet Set in Petionville, a rich suburb. There are plenty of westerners here, something you don't see in other places in PAP, they turn out to be from the UN peace keeping Mission in Haiti. It's a good day. A great end to 2008 and start for 2009!
Kids in the orphanage.
Making coffee.
Street.
Barbecuing.
Jason, Natasha, me and some of Natasha's friends.
Dancing.
This photo shows our delicious salad and Haitian rum.
Life is good.
written by  bennedich on December 31, 2008 from Port-au-Prince, Haiti

National Day of Haiti
Port-au-Prince, Haiti
First of January is the national day of Haiti, exactly 204 years ago they pushed out the French and became a free country. Haitians celebrate this by eating a traditional pumpkin soup. We eat it at the orphanage. The rest of the day we don't do much, hanging with Natasha and her friends and playing with the children.
Haiti is a true third world country, where running water is a luxury and electricity goes on and off, even worse than in northern Iraq. Here it seems the entire city can black out for a period of hours. There is garbage everywhere. Really! In addition to the omnipresent wild dogs, chicken and roosters, we spot a wild pig digging through a pile of garbage close to the city center.
In the evening, Jason and I go on a quest for pork. After having had so much chicken lately we're craving something else. We find it on the street not far from Natasha's home. The food here is really tasty, with a lot of spices.
In the slum.
With Natasha.
Kids at the orphanage. Natasha on the right.
View from Natasha's brother's girlfriend's house.
Kid eating sugar cane.
Pork.
written by  bennedich on January 1, 2009 from Port-au-Prince, Haiti

The village
Grand Goave, Haiti
Today we visit a small village around 2h west of Port-au-Prince where Natasha knows some people (she grew up herself in an SOS village for children without parents). The village is set amidst a Field of coconut palms, so for a snack, all we do is pick some coconuts and chop them open. There's a beach just a few 100m away where we swim and get some sun.
The kids in the village are very curious about us blancos (Jason and me). They stand at a short distance just staring at us. One little girl is terrified and starts crying every time she looks at us. The people here are mostly dark dark black. For example, on our way home after dark we see at a stop sign on the street, only it's not, it's just a very black man with a stop sign on his t-shirt. For dinner we once again have an amazing home cooked meal at the orphanage. Then we head out to party at Jet Set in Petionville.
I really like this country... people are so warm, friendly, curious, inviting. Similar to Iran in a way, yet with many differences. One being that girls here are much more free, so it's easier to talk to them. In the Middle East I mostly just spoke to guys. Another being that Haiti is not particularly safe. There's plenty of crime and kidnappings here, and Jason and I attract a lot of attention. Except for the UN staff in their heavily armed trucks, we haven't seen a single white person. Moreover, police officers are virtually nonexistent, and the ones out there seem to be up to no good anyway. (The one we saw today was making out with a girl on the street.) For these reasons, we always go accompanied by at least one local, and usually in a car with the doors locked.
Having a snack in the village.
On the way to the beach.
The beach.
Local boys at the beach.
Man at the beach.
Fishermen and the catch of the day.
In the village. This is the girl who's afraid of us.
Kid being cleaned.
Reading stories in the village.
Party.
written by  bennedich on January 2, 2009 from Grand Goave, Haiti

Turning back home
Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
We get home from Jet Set at around 3.30am. At 6.15am I'm up to catch the bus back to the Dominican Republic. Natasha tells me there are two buses: the comfortable express bus and the crazy bus, which is the one I took to get here. The choice is easy, but unfortunately the bus is not as crazy this time. People are a bit more mellow, presumably because last time they were on their way home to celebrate the new year and now they're on their way back to the reality of their hard lives.
I sit next to Alexis, a 25 year old Haitian whose job is to move steering wheels of imported cars from the right side to the left. During the 11 hour trip we become friends and he invites me to stay at his place for the night. He lives with a friend, another Haitian, on around 12 square meters in a suburb 30 minutes outside Santo Domingo. The living conditions are VERY basic. He prays to God every day to show him an exit, a path to a better life. It's a very moving experience.
Haitian.
Sugar cane salesman in Haiti.
Head for sale in Haiti.
written by  bennedich on January 3, 2009 from Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic

The conclusion
San Francisco, United States
I'm up at 5.20am, take a guagua to the city center, then a motorcycle taxi to the bus station followed by a bus to Higuëy, where I have around 2h of sightseeing and breakfast. The main attraction is a really unique cathedral, apart from that the city is quite standard... but I like it. Whenever beautiful girls come up to me on the street and give me their phone numbers, things are good. Next, I take another bus to Punta Cana airport then fly to my new home of San Francisco, via Philadelphia and Las Vegas. Looong day.
This concludes my vacation. I'll try to summarize briefly. I've been to 11 countries (Norway, Czech Republic, Ukraine, Turkey, Iraq, Iran, Qatar, Sweden, USA, Dominican Republic and Haiti). I met one person whose philosophy appealed to me: "I trust people. If you can't trust people, the world is shit. And I don't want to live in a shit world." I've been careful, but chosen to trust many persons, and it's worked out wonderfully. I've met countless of new people, many of which I'm still in contact with. I've paid for accommodation twice now in 65 days (in Diyarbakir and Santo Domingo), and practically never had to eat a meal alone, which I think goes to show that humankind is pretty good after all :)
Cathedral in Higüey.
Higüey.
Banana street, Higüey.
Punta Cana.
written by  bennedich on January 4, 2009 from San Francisco, United States

Inside a pagoda.

Me, my scooter and my stylish helmet.

House and waterfall.

Me (bottom) and Buddha (top).

Blue river.

Some temple and people praying.

Lost in Taipei.

Some kind of monument.

Yummy Taiwanese food! And spicy!

Some crazy people in Sagada downtown.

Here, in the mountain village of Sagada, I find the long sought for vaccine against the dreaded HIB.

Baguio downtown.

Baguio lake.

Sagada church.

Each sack contains two live piglets. This was to go in our bus, but didn't fit. (We did have some chicken in our bus though.)

I fell down a rock wall (luckily landed on a rice field).

On our way out from the cave, just having climbed up the last rope.

Hanging coffins, Echo Valley.

Guide with lantern, at cave entrance.

Baguio market.

Downtown Banaue. There's a ~300 lbs alive pig loaded in the tricycle...

Me and my cave guide. I'm like a giant next to the small Filipinos!

Me with Batad rice terraces.

Steve asks an old lady for directions, but she only speaks some tribe language.

Not a great shot, but this is the landslide that took out the trail in front of us.

Me and my guide Yun.

Batad school.

Downtown Batad.

A landslide on the way to Batad.

Another annoying landslide.

Arriving in Batad.

Freddy drives over a landslide.

Sunset at Taal volcano.

Taal volcano. It is active, with water boiling at places.

My horse and guide Cherry.

Manila fortress. Watch out for flying golf balls.

View of Manila.

Manila historic center.

1. La Bufadora 2. First night 3. Second night 4. Third night

My room at the hotel in Tecate.

Cat did not eat much on Sat and Sun.

Wall separating USA and Mexico.

Tree providing a little bit of shade.

Tire track.

The giant Tecate brewery.

Taking a rest and trying to figure out what to do.

Road that should have led to the coca cola but didn't.

Annoying intersection. I end up going left.

0.5 l water left.

Ghost town.

Dried out river.

The gear.

Sun rises over my desert camp site.

Sandy road.

Where I fill up with gas before the desert.

Salt lake.

Not So Easy St in Erendira.

This is me.

Highway 3 in central Baja.

Oups, wrong road.

Main street in Erendira.

Road leading to the water.

Watch out for Chupacabras (blood sucking beasts).

Breakfast in Erendira.

Hmm. Let's go back and try another road.

Breakfast of a champion.

When I see this I proclaim "no mames!!!"

Campsite office??

Camping at Los Muertos.

Geyser, La Bufadora.

Mexican immigration, Tijuana.

Campsite sign.

La Bufadora. Super touristy.

Food for the cat while I'm gone.

Bulls and wild dogs roam the backcountry.

Summerland beach, east of Santa Barbara. Drizzling.

Big Sur.

Kids in the orphanage.

Punta Cana.

Banana street, Higüey.

Higüey.

Cathedral in Higüey.

Reading stories in the village.

Party.

Kid being cleaned.

In the village. This is the girl who's afraid of us.

On the way to the beach.

Young girl at the beach.

Local boys at the beach.

Man at the beach.

The beach.

Fishermen and the catch of the day.

Having a snack in the village.

Sugar cane salesman in Haiti.

Kids at the orphanage. Natasha on the right.

Barbecuing.

Pork.

Kid eating sugar cane.

Dancing.

Jason, Natasha, me and some of Natasha's friends.

Life is good.

Head for sale in Haiti.

View from Natasha's brother's girlfriend's house.

This photo shows our delicious salad and Haitian rum.

In the slum.

With Natasha.

Celebrating Christmas with family.

Kids skating in Kungstradgarden, Stockholm.

Kungsgatan, Stockholm.

At Natasha's.

We stop here to buy grilled chicken.

Haitian.

Street.

Making coffee.

Outside Natasha's house.

View from Natasha's place.

At the Haitian border, and the bus and some people I travel with.

I have breakfast here.

Street in Dominican Republic.

Airport in Punta Cana.

I try to stay out of this area.

Philadelphia.

Najaf, Dr Ahmed and me.

Villagio shopping mall, like a small Venice.

Me and the pearl monument.

Old Qataris in the souk.

Qatari feeding pigeons. Islam Cultural Center in the background.

Man in the souk.

Stranger's apartment that I was using.

Grand bazaar.

It's not easy being American here in Iran.

Me, Behzad and Shirin.

Northern Tehran early morning.

Graves for unknown people who died in the Iran-Iraq war.

Shirin laughs and takes this photo of me eating haleem, since this is not how you're supposed to eat it.

Sheep head. What we ate the other day.

Qalyan place. Smoking forbidden :)

How to defy the Great Satan...

Ali and me smoking mint qalyan.

The qalyan place.

To keep warm, people simply start a fire on the street.

Iranian version of the statue of liberty.

Mountains north of Tehran.

Creating a billboard in Shiraz.

The kids who take me on the motorbike.

Me and Persepolis.

Persepolis.

Minibus in Marvdasht.

Koran quotes like this are all over Iran.

Si-o-Seh Bridge.

Imam Mosque.

Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque.

Jameh Mosque.

Old man outside the bazar.

Fruit store.

Me, Ali (right of me in the photo), and two of his flatmates.

Imam Khomeini square. They used to hang people from the statue.

Smoking qalyan.

Eating sheep head.

Reysan.

Snow.

My wallet after I change 100 euro to Iranian rials.

Dinner with Abobakrmahmode and his family. Abobakr is rightmost.

Tire shopping mall.

Mountain at Haji Omaran border crossing.

Taxi driver taking us from the border to Piranshahr.

Main street in Piranshahr. The gravestone store is first on the left.

English phrase book.

"Doctor street"

Mohammed's car with the engine running.

A huge amount of cars stolen in Europe end up in Iraq.

Fruit seller.

Street sign.

Big mosque.

Inside the bazar (market) in Erbil.

On the road between Dohuk and Erbil, close to Mosul.

Street in Erbil.

Men in Erbil.

Erbil seen from the citadel.

Sador, from the Iraqi/US special armed division.

Dohuk dam.