Dragons

2005-08-07T22:34:00.000+02:00

Taking off for Zurich with view on Sofia

Flooded landscape on the way from Varna to Sofia

Dear friends

After holidays, we usually spend our time at home, catching up with everyday life and work. Our tour through Bulgaria has unfortunately ended. Luckily, we made it back so Sofia safely. Bulgaria was afflicted by some major floods - people drowned, villages are under water, bridges torn apart... The train tracks to Sofia had been interrupted and we had to change to buses.

Today, we strolled around Sofia, bought some Rekia and Tcherga Wine and enjoyed our last coffee in a café close to our former 'garden' with its adjacent hostel. The rain must have driven the people off the streets...

That's all about Bulgaria for now, folks, and anybody who just liked our notes a little bit should go there and discover it for her- or himself. And if somebody is looking for us back home - in the evenings, we usually spend our time in the marvellous garden behind our house (if and when the work is done), sipping a drink and having a look at the nearby mountains as the sun sets. Seriously: Drop by and join us for a drink!

Mesum, Florian

2005-08-06T13:26:00.000+02:00

The goddess 'Nike', here in form of golden jewellery, slightly larger than a thumb, 4000 years old. Her wings served as model for the logo of the well-known brand with the same name.
Cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin in Varna

Dear friends

Unexpectedly, we met our host couple last night downtown, where we usually spend our time in Varna at night. We drank a couple of beers in a wild west theme bar (at the coast) and then headed into a rnb club where one of the most famous Bulgarian hiphopper was present who calls himself something like 'slap in the face' (german: Ohrfeige). Our hosts know him from school. After some pool games (since Mesum got the title of 'Master of Sozopol', Florian needed a revenge) and some more beer resp. vodka our hosts left. We followed a couple of hours and beers later...

Today, we visited the Archeological Museum of Varna which boasts some 6000 years old relicts. Nicely displayed as they are, you get an impression of what juwellery and everday tools looked like 4600 - 4200 BC. The site where these items were found is older then the oldest sites found in Mesopotamia and Egypt. (Does anyone know that?) Anyway, it seems that the area around the Black Sea has always been a fertile ground.

How fertile it could further get in Varna, we can't explore anymore. As mentioned earlier, we catch the train tonight to Sofia. See you there for the last of our Bulgaria notes...

Mesum and Florian

2005-08-05T15:28:00.000+02:00

Our hosts and us.
Kids playing in front of our apartment building
Typical apartment building
Changing the gear...

Dear friends

The nice thing about our Bulgaria holidays is that we usually don't spend our time on extensively long transportation (like we did in Asia, see the entries below for details). But bus and train rides frequently proof to be useful. On our trip from Burgas to Varna, there were two guys heading for Varna to hear 'Guru' (Gangstar & Jazzmataz) who is obviously touring on the Balkan. The decision was taken quickly: Soon after arriving, we bought a ticket at the Momo Club, located right at the town beach of Varna and obviously one of those venues to be seen... In the evening, probably half of the Bulgarian hip hop scene appeared and freaked out during Guru's and his partner's performance.

Today, we checked out beach life in Varna which is pretty much the same as it is in Sozopol. There is one difference: there are boards for windsurfing for rent. We took our chance and while Mesum successfully went seafaring, Florian at least got the sail out of the water - for a couple of seconds.

We are staying in one of these suburbs consisting of those 'plattenbauten' which seem to be so typical for the former communist countries. A young couple (of about our age) is renting out one of their rooms to get a few more leva income. As you might know, Bulgaria's economy is not excatly thriving; is is actually the opposite and this kind of income is bitterly needed. We acutally expected just a room and not real hosts. But excellent hosts is what we got: They invited us to some superb sopska salad and home made Bulgarian brandy, Rakia, which was an good starter for the 'gangstar' night. And today, Gali showed us downtown Varna and joined us for a coup of coffee.

The train to Sofia on saturday night is booked. The last comfortable night in Bulgaria is ahead of us (is there a bias concering the comfort of Bulgarian trains? - let's find out) and the day after we'll spend again with laying on the beach and maybe having a look a the archeological museum. It has an excellent reputation and features exposits which are 6000 years old. Meanwhile, we focus on more contemporary artefacts.

Mesum, Florian

2005-08-03T17:34:00.000+02:00

Upside down in Sozopol - Mesum
Upside down in Sozopol - Florian

Dear friends

How exciting can relaxing be? Usually, we would spend our time with studying hard for an intelligible answer, but as we are in Sozopol, we just look around and say: Very exciting! (You might have noticed that these blog entries get shorter and shorter while we are relaxing more and more - since entries are not that hard to write and it would be easier to do so, let's call this the 'Black Sea Coast Paradoxon'...)

We decided to leave for the Varna tomorrow, also called the 'Ibiza or Mallorca of the Black Sea'. Join us tomorrow or the day after to know whether this is a compliment or not...

Best regards,
Mesum and Florian

2005-08-02T15:03:00.000+02:00

What is Florian looking at? Beachlife in Sozopol
The legendary Sozopol-Series - the winner...
... and holder of the second rank

Dear friends

What do we usually spend our time with at the Bulgarian Coast? Sun, fun and nothing to do!

See you soon,
Mesum, Florian

(PS: There were of course a couple of things we did. For instance, celebrate 1st of August (Swiss 'Independance' Day) with the right amount of food and beer. Or, eg help a lost ten year old German kid at night in a bustling town find his way back to the hotel and his parents. Others things we continuously do: playing pool, sunbathing, swimming in the black sea, breathing fresh air, eating fresh fish, drinking refreshing beer, sleeping comfortably, thinking about where to travel next (maybe Varna), drinking coffee, taking a picture here and there, wearing sunglasses,...)

2005-08-01T17:41:00.000+02:00

Sun set over the old town peninsula of Sozopol
Seagull enjoying the sun set (ornithologists are welcome to correct...)
Old town of Sozopol
Sozopol town beach

Again, dear friends,

happy greetings from Bulgaria. After having been to a real Bulgarian disco in Gabrovo on saturday night (where we could imagine ourselves spending our time usually), we caught our bus for Burgas on Sunday morning. Having arrived there, we decided to move on straight to Sozopol. Our private room, on offer by a charming elderly couple, is located in the middle of the old town which is a collection of old wodden houses and narrow cobblestone alleys (first settlements date back to 4000 BC; our room luckily does not). The two beaches in town are packed with all kinds of folks craving for sun and a refreshing bath in the black sea. We still need a bit to get used to the smell of the occasional bunch of alges driven into the bays. Sozopol is visited mostly by Bulgarian tourists. And Bulgarians, as we found out, are taking serious care that the whole body gets a good sunbath. As we take this seriously too, we need to take a good rest now and let you know more later :-)

Mesum and Florian

2005-07-30T16:34:00.000+02:00

Downtown Gabrovo at night
Our dinner waiting for us...
Dinner with view on Gabrovo
The lights of Gabrovo...
Nasdravie! (No 5/10) (Nasdravie=cheers)
Nasdravie! (No 9/10)
Florian, Natalie & Mesum at the Gabrovo bus station
Storks and their nest
Church in the old town of Tryavna
Car
Bridge downtown Tryavna
Tryavna was famous for its woodcarvers. This house features two famous carved ceilings.
Typical old town building in Tryavna
Chapel of the monastery above Etara.
Inside the chapel
Looking around inside
Walking around the chapel
Courtyard of the monastery

Hello again dear friends

We found out that we usually would spend our time in our own hotel located right downtown in Gabrovo. There are several empty buildings which look a bit run down but the broken window glasses glistering in the sun are reflecting an artistic and slightly melancholi... c! We don't know how, but this text got cut off. Well, maybe in the middle of the right word... Unfortunately, we can't reconstruct what we've written and leave it up to the pictures to tell how it was like.

2005-07-29T18:42:00.000+02:00

The two charming ladies who showed us around Plovdiv
Old town of Plovdiv
Roman amphitheatre, built by Trajanus in 2nd century AD
Once the house of a well-established Plovdiv family, nowadays the ethnographic museum
Old town archway
Market in Plovdiv

Dear friends

Gabrovo is a long stretched town in a valley and rises on both sides to the top of the hills, similarly to St Gallen. Lucky as we are, we reside on one of those hills, also called 'Beverly Hills' of Gabrovo. The view on Gabrovo and the surrounding landscape is especially at night beautiful. We therefore spend our time now usually on the balcony on Natalie's marvellous flat, eating tomato cucumber salads, enjoying dry Bulgarian wine and sharing our views - what could you want more in holidays? Yesterday, we ventured into town to have a look at what Gabrovo is famous for: the mueseum for humor and satire in art (HSS). Gabrovians are known to be very 'closefisted', and they really do show what this can look like in one exhibition room. The rest of the exibition halls is filled with works of artists who have participated in the biennale of humor and satire in arts that is held every year in Gabrovo...

Today, we decided to go on a day trip to Plovdiv which lies on plateau on the other side of the stara planina mountain range. The bus ride to get there lasted surprisingly a bit over three hours. During this trip, we met two young ladies, a French and a Bulgarian one, who were visiting Plovdiv again for its nightlife. Good and honest boys as we are, we just stayed for the afternoon and spent it at the old town of Plovidiv, which is definately worth a visit... Thanks to the two ladies, we went straight to the interesting sights and caught the 4.30 pm bus back to Gabrovo. That's where we are right now, writing this and thinking of more things to do in the 'old mountains' of Bulgaria.

Talk to you soon,
Mesum and Florian

2005-07-27T15:14:00.000+02:00

On the way to Gabrovo
Above Gabrovo (please note the stadium which hosts in its basement 'the' disco to be on a saturday night in Gabrovo)

Dear friends

usually we don't spend our time in the garden anymore. after one more day and night in Sofia, we went on to Gabrovo, a mid-sized town close to the stara planina mountain range in the middle of Bulgaria. These mountains actually cross the whole the Balkan. Gabrovo still lies in the rolling hills inbetween the moutains and the plain. As far as we can see, woods, woods, woods. Far away on the horizon, the place where the communist party was founded can be seen, represented by a huge congress building that looks like a giant church down upon the hills from the mountains. Why Gabrovo? First of all, we had enough of our backyard at the hostel and, more importantly, we visit Natalie who is staying and working here in Gabrovo for six months (www.sixmoisenbulgarie.blogspot.com). Third of all, Gabrovo has been 'the continual butt of jokes' (lonley planet) in Bulgaria (similar to the Swiss making fun of the Austrians) and we are just curious how funny it is here. Join us later for a report. Probably from the black sea coast.
Oy oy oy, Mesum and Florian

2005-07-25T17:52:00.000+02:00

High speed transport below Zurich Airport
Leaving Switzerland behind
Usually, we spend our time in the garden.
Florian: Hmm, where shall we go?
Mesum: Just go!
A real Bulgarian surfer does what all Bulgarians do: Eat Salad!
Kiosk
Downtown Sofia
Sveta Nedelnya Cathedral in Sofia
Inside the cathedral
Holy Sofia watching over the Sofia
Banya Bashi Mosque
Sofia at night
"Free huge breakfast"
Aaahhh, coffee! At the bar of the hostel
If we remember correctly: St Nikolai Russian Church
Downtown Sofia
The famous Aleksander Nevski Church
The oldest building in town, St George's rotunda
Somewhere in Sofia
Soviet Army Monument

Hi everybody

'Usually we spend our time in the garden' is the official and overall repeated slogan of our 'art-hostel'. Having seen the garden, this was not, let's say obvious to us, since the 'garden' is really more a shady corner with some wild plants spreading all over the place. Having spent a night here, though, we could understand much better: the beds are so hard that you rather sleep in the soft plants than elsewhere. Well, well, we saw Sofia today too, and we are still alive. It did not blast us away, and it did not bore us to hell. Strolling around, looking around, visiting old orthodox churches and, following a warm welcome and invitation, spending some time in a mosque, sitting outside, enjoying the weather and the incredibly good doner kebup. Okeydo, see you later for news out of the sunny heart of the balkans :-)

Mesum, Florian

Zu deutsch es wort au fuer de noeggi: Es war super in Sofia! Langenscheidt hervorgeholt und uebersetzen... Was nicht geht, liefern wir natuerlich nach der Reise nach...

2005-07-24T23:29:00.000+02:00

hoi zaeme!!
mir sind gueaet acho in sofia...
scho serstimol verarscht worde, aber easy...
sbeer schmeckt au guaet!! see you later...

florian und mesum

2004-08-20T15:22:00.000+02:00

wolfgang / welcome back party 04

2004-08-20T15:19:00.000+02:00

urs & vera & andreas / welcome back party 04

2004-08-20T15:16:00.000+02:00

ivaylo & catherina / welcome back party 04

2004-08-20T15:15:00.000+02:00

fränzi / welcome back party 04

2004-08-20T15:14:00.000+02:00

mesum & jeff / welcome back party 04

2004-08-20T15:09:00.000+02:00

küde & florian / welcome back party 04

2004-08-20T15:06:00.000+02:00

christian & rahel & catherina & küde & florian / welcome back party 04

2004-08-20T15:05:00.000+02:00

vera / welcome back party 04

2004-08-20T15:02:00.000+02:00

sebastian & küde / welcome back party 04

2004-08-20T14:59:00.000+02:00

martin / welcome back party 04

2004-08-20T14:57:00.000+02:00

mesum & florian / welcome back party 04

2004-07-21T14:52:00.000+02:00

paul, nikki, florian, dim

2004-07-18T14:46:00.000+02:00

dreamland, bali/indonesia

2004-07-15T14:43:00.000+02:00

florian surfing

2004-07-15T14:41:00.000+02:00

mesum surfing

2004-06-13T14:38:00.000+02:00

From Kunming, a booming metropolis in South Western China, a night bus took us on the famous ‘Burma Road’ to Ruili, the Chinese border town to Myanmar. The road was once built to connect the British troops, fighting in Myanmar, with the Kuomintang troops in China. Nowadays the road is a major economic link between the two countries: China delivers everyday goods, Myanmar ‘goods’ from the Golden Triangle…

Ruili – the barber is not as gentle as elsewhere in China, the fruit juices are probably the best and there are a lot of venues catering to many kinds of needs. It takes us two days to arrange our overland trip, bargaining only to find out that there is simply a monopoly situation. Reason enough to spend the last night awake in some province disco in China, which proves to be quite – let’s say – fluid and long. On the next morning we arrive early at the border with the primary focus on walking in a straight line up to the border police. They are obviously not informed about the visa extension we got and it takes the whole team two hours to believe us that we did not sneak into China in an illegal way. Finally we are free to leave (just before passing out in the hot sun). Burmese border control, unpacking everything in front of a very friendly and curious officer. Our two swords and quite big Chinese kitchen knives pass – luckily none of us brought a mobile phone (as we find out later, only the Burmese Military Intelligence has mobile phones).

A jeep and a guide take us to Lashio, where the Burma Road ends and where we stay for the first night in Myanmar. The next morning we take the train to Mandalay, a city in central Myanmar which is considered to be the ‘cultural heart’ of Myanmar. The train is not the fastest way of transportation – the average speed is about 20 km/h, due to the bad condition of the tracks. Several times we try to get a hold of our luggage stored above us because the train seems to jump out of the tracks. Sometimes the train driver obviously gets bored of the speed and goes up to about 30 km/h – it feels like on a boat trip through jungle. Green rain forest (close to touch), villages, rice fields, green rain forest, plains, rice fields, villages… The countryside gives the journey a monotonous rhythm outside the train. Inside, this is not the case. We meet a family from Yangon on their way home, engage in talks and get invited to lunch and for a sip of ‘OK-Rum’. The train team of our carriage, soon after take off drinking quite a bit of ‘OK-Rum’, cheers up the atmosphere and entertains everybody. Starting at 5 in the morning, we arrive at 11 at night and quickly check in at the Royal Guest House.

Going separate ways, I leave for Bagan which lies at the edge of a vast, grass and palm covered plain; far away dark green mountains, close, a broad silver band – the Ayeyarwady River. Here, in medieval times Buddha’s heirs seemed to have played with pagodas like giant dices and left them dispersed and unattended to nature. Heavily and quiet they rest where they were left, expression of majesty and grandeur, silent witnesses of a nowadays mystical past, altogether leaving an impression of visions being almost too grand. As a light contrast, the villages are less bold statements and almost disappear in the landscape, perfectly fitted into it. In addition to this pleasant and calm atmosphere, at every main pagoda several hawkers try to sell you something, always at a special price for ‘my close friend’, ‘only for me’, since ‘my family has not food’, because ‘you are very nice and look very good’, it is ‘lucky money – in the morning, just now, for you’ and ‘here, a present, I waiting for you’. Two days by bike through these fields is enough – soon I am back in Mandalay again.

In Mandalay, the Royal Guest House is located in a lively neighborhood close to the old royal palace. It has grown to be something like home quickly, with its small chamber below the roof, pink painted, the heat with a van just bearable, with the breakfast toast roasted perfectly and the unbelievably warmhearted ‘staff’ – leaving is not easy. I sit in the small, dark lobby, sip a ‘crusher’ (a Fanta alike drink which can match its opponent) and stare, partly without thinking anything, into the blistering heat of Mandalay, where I just came from my forenoon excursion to my favorite pagoda. It is time to leave, and the goodbye smile of the reception lady is just too much – I jump into the heat where my ‘best friend’, the rickshaw driver, already waits and takes me to the train station. Train again! 3 hours late it leaves for Myitkyina, up north.

I open a Red Bull and just manage to balance the pressure and not to spill the whole compartment with this sweet and sticky stuff. As it is custom here, I drown the juice with a certain speed and get my notebook (paper back version) out the backpack. With some toilet paper I try to clean the sticky fingers – it doesn’t help. Everything is sticky and sweaty – my longyi (I am wearing a Burmese skirt), my t-shirt, my bench, everything is covered with an ‘adhesive’ layer and quite a lot of insects were caught by it last night… We are sitting now over 20 hours in this train, and long ago I quit the struggle to maintain some basic everyday elegance. A short stop at a village diverts my attention shortly away from my struggle – a loud chaos of voices enters the window and joins the happy discussions of the train crew that has been again having OK-Rum for quite some time. Every time they go to the toilet, they stare into our compartment with a bigger smile.

Women balance all kinds of goods on their head to the train carriage. The elderly Burmese gentleman (sitting across to the left) buys some corn and, while eating it, brews himself a coffee. Carefully he stows away the expensive, silver thermos bottle. He sips, has a smoke. Not one single drop of sweat! Somewhat desperate I have a look at my meanwhile quite wet and ‘crinkled’ appearance. At the same time, the sunset beams run through the steam of the coffee and cast a beautiful light on the yellow corn and the wall, painted with somewhat kitsch mint green, and the dark brown wooden seats of our compartment – great! Pervading this is the unbelievable snoring of the Chinese fellow next to the Burmese gentlemen (straight across). Grown tall, hardly fitting into the train toilet, his longyi divides his body into a lank and a rather ‘wealthy’ looking half. The first one ever I met to really snore as somebody was cutting down a tree. Or even better: a fruit mixer just before giving up because it cannot manage the load of fruits. Even the rather calm and very polite, almost stiff looking Burmese once in a while glances to his right to check whether everything is ok. My (short) questions in Chinese usually trigger 5 to 10 minutes answers of which I understand about 5%. Producing affirmative sounds, enquiring again, sometimes contradicting his statements, sometimes pensive shaking my head, often laughing out loud we lead an entertaining and interesting conversation, interrupted by long silent phases which everybody shares with a cigarette. Myitkyina, finally, after 28 hours. I check in at the YMCA, get something to eat, shower and go to sleep.

By motor bike to the confluence of the two rivers that create the Ayeyarwady River. Next morning by pickup to Bhamo. What I have come here for, the boat ride to Bhamo, is not possible, since the Ayeyarwady has too much water (it is rainy season) and the bigger ferries can’t make it through the gorges. Bhamo – that’s where I met the old metal shop owner who built his own lightweight helicopter! I first would not believe it until he showed me his construction. His father served as driver for the British during the second world war, taught himself some engineering and tool making and opened up his own shop. His son, being a body builder in school, finally went into the same business and eventually took over the shop. That’s where in 1990 he started to work on a plan for a ‘one seater’. In 1993 he decided to built the thing: and there it was, in front of my eyes, and I could not believe it. He tried to fly three times, but the engine was not strong enough to lift it. He sold it, but running out of money (for his son’s education) he has not been able to buy a stronger motor…

Back to Mandalay by boat, two days, sleeping on the floor of the 2nd class, next to a family with a boy who, falling off a bullock cart, has caught a skull fracture! The hospital up north was, except for an x-ray, not possible to do anything for him (they didn’t even have pain killers), and now the family is taking him to Mandalay hospital…

It’s my last stop in Mandalay. Imagine Mandalay being the center of a cross. Bagan was to the West, Myitkyina to the North, and now Kalaw and Inle Lake are waiting in the East, from where I will go directly south to the capital, Yangon. With two Belgium ladies I go on a 3 days trek around Kalaw and get an impression how 60% of Myanmar’s population lives (off the main road): Villages, rice and tea fields, very basic accommodation, virtually no medical support and facilities, long distance walks to school, hard work outside, hardly any tourism... Our guide is married to a village woman in the area, has six kids and a lot of experience to talk about.

Inle Lake with its swimming fields and villages and people who are rowing the boat with one leg is literally the next ‘attraction’: a boat tour on the lake confirms the impression of what the location is: a tourist place. On the next day I move on to Yangon.

The Char Zhi Win Guesthouse proves to be a run down place, although it is located in a nice old building; I put my bags into something they call a room. At least it has 4 card board thick walls, a ceiling, and something to lie on. Luckily, after 5 minutes talking and questioning, the owner hands me over Mesum’s message: He changed to the Okinawa Guesthouse. That is where I instantaneously go and met him; he leaves Myanmar on the very same forenoon for Bangkok while I will stay for a couple of days and follow him later.

The Okinawa Guesthouse (the owner worked for 10 years Okinawa) is again a very pleasant guesthouse and makes exploring Yangon a comfortable experience. The city itself seems to be an uninspired and grey place compared to the rest of the country – the rainy weather and hazy view sure contribute its share to this impression. The Shwe Dagon Pagoda is an exception. An atmosphere of peace and tranquility surrounds it, although quite many people are visiting the place, walking around the pagoda, praying and chatting. On the cold marble floor noise seems to flow away like water… I spend several hours, watching, contemplating and enjoying the atmosphere.

Taxi to the airport. Check in – my sword is not a problem again – and the good bye smile is again hard to bear…Quickly I enter the waiting hall.

PS:
A word concerning ‘Myanmar’ resp. ‘Burma’: In 1989 the government changed the name of Burma to Myanmar, which is a historic name being widely used until European (and later Japanese) forces entered the area. The official reason: The expression ‘Burma’ is (supposedly) too much connected to the biggest ethnic group of the population (the Burmese) and therefore discriminate the numerous minorities. On the other hand, the opponents of the government insist on using the name ‘Burma’ (although this is a colonial relict) as an expression of their opposition to the current military government.

2004-05-27T14:33:00.000+02:00

It turned out the be more than one beer last time in Lhasa and we finally decided to overpay a bit for another journey and have a closer look at Eastern Tibet. The 'Autonomous Region of Tibet' (ART) borders in the east to the Chinese provinces of Sichuan and Yunnan, both containing areas formerly belonging to Tibet – the Tibetan culture therefore spreads beyond todays ART border. The plan was to go by car to Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan province, 2400km and 10 days away from Lhasa.

Eager to go there, none of us knew exactly what to expect. Nobody, including our 'guide' Tsering (22) and driver Pema (34), since both of them were the first time in Eastern Tibet – there was obviously not a great demand in the past for these kind of professionals, since the area was closed to foreigners until very recently. But tourists are required by law to travel with a guide in Tibet, and since there is basically only one travel agency in Lhasa (the FIT branch of the state owned travel service CITS), there is hardly any way around that regulation.

Off we went, Matthew (South Africa), Rika (Belgium), Mesum, Florian, Tsering and Pema, in a 17 years old Toyota Landcruiser, backpacks securly tightened on the roofrack, one seat in the back, a big smile on every face except for the guide who was showing a slight expression of concern.

Soon after Lhasa, the landscape changed its appearance again, and it kept on doing that until the very end. We drove through a Tibet we had hardly known before through books, TV, slide shows and alike. If I had to describe 'my typical Tibet' now, I could hardly do so, because it is so diverse. The secenery from Lhasa on to the east is not so much the well known arid plateau with desert character and stone houses, but much more large mixed forests, lush green barley fields and pastures, wooden houses, enourmous regions just endlessly covered with green hills, really steep and narrow river gorges, valleys with subtropical (!) rain forst vegetation, vast grasslands, mountain passes ascending more the 2000m etc. So, we basically experienced the whole range of probably all green tones existing, including some golden-brown-grey tones for the gorges and dark purple stones for the valley of the Mekong.

Here is our 10 days route our guide was told to absolutely stick to!: Lhasa - Bayi - Nyingtri - Pomi - Pomda Truck Stop - Chamdo - Jomda - Dege - Daofu - Chengdu. On the way, we finally saw what we were looking for: Endless riverscapes, including the major rivers and life sources in Asia like the Salween (going down to Myanmar), the Mekong (leaving China for Kambodia and Thailand), and the Chang Jiang (flowing through the flooded three gorges to Shanghai). Hidden in vallyes, but sometimes only a couple of kilometers away, the Brahmaputra - at least we travelled along many of its contributory rivers. At the last stretch in Tibet, it makes some big u–turns and flows through a giant gorge, being at some places 5000m high (again: 5000m high), before it flows to Bangladesh, where it brings fertile soil and is the main life source for most of the population. Unfortunately, the Brahmaputra area is strictly off to foreigners, since the Chinese Government plans a big project: At that gorge, they plan to build a river hydrostation which is twice as big as the one at the three gorges! Even better: Additionally, they will drill a huge tunnel, 30km long, going down 15km, which they will use to divert most of the Brahmaputra water 800km to the north of China (in order to compensate a huge lack of water they have there to irrigate farming land)! To drill the tunnel, they use what is called 'peaceful nuclear explosion' (PNE) in an area which is prone to earthquakes. Bangladesh and India, not surprisingly, are not very pleased about the project. In fact: If the project will be carried out (starting in 2009), it equals an inofficial declaration of war.

Passing close by, the culture seems to be 'more Tibetan' than what we have seen so far. The larger cities on the major road, though, a pretty much dominated by Han Chinese. Unfortunately, there was no possibility to follow one of the many treks off the main road into the next valley(s) which conserved a more Tibetan, or let's say local way of life. There are still monasteries, though, which are hardly visited by foreigners and visitors are welcome as an interesting (ex)change. Hopefully, this friendly atmosphere will be preserved for some time, although this is a mere hope – not more. Road construction is going on everywhere with full speed, and in the middle of nowhere there are new hotels and superstores being built. It seems that there is a well orchestrated plan, probably catering to the (mainly Chinese) tourists pouring in in two or three years once the road work is completed (and, according to our government travel agent, no permits will be needed anymore).

Afther the local hub and capital Chamdo, where we stay two days, we drive on to Dege to visit an old printing place, where a lot of Tibetan texts are stored in wooden print blocks (some of them being several hundred years old). After Dege, the plan was to drive the remaining 720km in one day to Chengdu. No chance – we skip the one rest day in Dege and split the rest in two days. Crossing the quite big pass of Erlangshan, we definately leave Tibet and take the superb freeway to Chengdu. Pema is driving for the first time in his life on a high way and obviously enjoys driving at a higher speed. Less joyful for him is Chengdu – cars, bicycles, red lights everywhere, even so at 10pm. We finally make it to our hotel and change to 'Sam's Guesthouse' the next morning. Located in an old wing of another hotel, it features a small, green courtyard, old style architecture and reflects the very pleasant atmosphere of Chengdu. Sichuan opera, shopping, extending the visa, seeing the biggest buddha statue in the world and after two days we are off by night train to Kunming, the capital of the southern province of Yunnan.

It's in this metropolis where I sit again in a cyber cafe and try to review what has happened the last 14 days. Quite tired, we take a rest and organize our trip to Myanmar. The Myanmar consulate is very conveniently locacted in our hotel and after leaving you we will pick up our passports (hopefully including a visa good for over land entry). Internet access in Myanmar is apparently very rare, and very likely you'll have to wait for news until we leave Myanmar, which will be in about a month.

2004-05-15T14:26:00.000+02:00

The road gets smaller and rougher, the valleys steeper and higher, and the intense green colours of the woods fade and make way to more subtle brownish and gray tones. After one day, a seemingly barren landscape appears. It takes a while to recognize that it actually is a vast plateau, since quite big hill chains go across it in all directions. Far away they grow into snow covered mountain peaks that pop through the clouds. We take a rest and have a cup of butter tea before 'tackling' the first mountain pass (5000m above sea levels). It is at the top of this pass that for the first time the hilly plateau reveals it's vast size, but also its subtle beauty. Clouds cast shades on the landscape and break the intense sunlight which otherwise is brightly reflected by the rocks. Through this dark and light brown spotted landscape we continue our way to Lhasa. It has not been raining for days, and our convoy, composed of jeeps and buses, is dispersing dust like a desert rallye. Our driver adds to that feeling, racing over bumpy roads which are probably not even easy to master by bike. After two days it starts raining and the 'desert' changes into an off road test area for vehicles.

We drive by smaller villages whose inhabitants make a living out of farming. The closeby fields are neatly segmented and nerved by irrigation channels which (on the first two days) are dry. A farmer, having a closer look at our convoi stopping to repair a flat tyre, indicates that they expect rain soon – he obviously knows what he depends on. As we continue, the scenery seems to change every time we come around another hill – small bushes, a couple of trees, sand slides, harsh, grey stonefields, snow covered passes, enormous, deep blue lakes, but also entire valleys covered with lush green fields. After a night at the border town Zhangmu we stop at Lhatse, Shigatse, Gyantse, and finally arrive in Lhasa.

The remaining few monasteries on the way remind us of how rich and powerful (spiritually as well as worldly) the buddhist orders must have been before the cultural revolution. The Kumbum Tschoerten in Gyantse, for instance, constitutes a three dimensional mandala (a mandala being a representation of the spiritual order of the world). The building is composed of 7 floors which have in total over 87 chambers and chapels, each dedicated to different buddhas, bodhisattvas and spiritual leaders. As one moves the way up, he moves on a tantric way towards Nirvana. Not surprisingly, the upper floors are closed for tourists, since they represent the most holy places to be at – Mesum had the chance three years ago to go all the way to the top, probably being the first one to have those photographed and the last one to see them. According to the monks, they will remain closed for the future. We are lucky to be there before the big herdes of tourists rush up, and can enjoy the spiritual and calm atmosphere.

At Lhasa, the rest of China catches up with us. Walking along the main road (Beijing Road) feels like being in any other Chinese city – Chinese urban standard sprawling everywhere. The Potala, the former residence of the Dalai Lama, has been turned into a museum, featuring monitoring cameras and police guards.

We check in at a hotel run by Tibetans and start organizing our 10 days journey to Chengdu. Meanwhile we relax a bit, visit the surrounding monasteries, and mingle with some Tibetans and play snooker with them in the streets of the (recently constructed) Tibetan 'old town'. The sun sets over Lhasa, and with our first beer in China we let the impressions sink in. Join us for some more in Chengdu.

2004-05-06T14:22:00.000+02:00

We leave Rishikesh for Hardiwar, where we will board the night train to Lucknow. At the train station, we meet a woman who has been living for a couple of years in Guangzhou, studying Chinese Medicine, then living for about 12 years in Varanasi (Indian town at the Ganges, famous for it's universities, music, and ghats). She's been renting an apartment and living entirely on her stock market investments. Since profits are not as good as they used to be, she starts looking for work...

We board the train at 8.40 pm. During the day, all train windows must have been open. Most of the interior is covered with a thin layer of mud; the seats are ok though. Every time, I have to get used to this kind of travelling, and the feeling of nonchalance always kicks in after I feel to be as clean as the means of transport. This is the case after 30 minutes. Although 'hard class', everywhere in the train food can be ordered calling the hastily walking by waiter. 10 minutes for dinner. A chai (wonderful Indian Tea: loooots of sugar, black tea and milk), a cigarette and I feel comfortable.

We check out how far the windows close (two thirds), make a bed out of two seats, chain the big backpacks under the seats, and talk to an Indian who lives close to the border to China (Tibet) and knows the latest government regulations.

It is hot outside, the windows which cannot be closed are a good relief. There is not enough wind for the mosquito-like flies though. Up again at 1 pm, using some anti-fly lotion, back to sleep, arrival in the morning.

Then: one day in Lucknow, next day at 6 am a 6 hours bus ride to Gorakhpur, then again 3 hours to Sunauli & Bhairahawa, border towns to Nepal. We arrive hot and sweaty, like after a day hike in the Jungel.

Nepal goes on strike the next day, meaning no transport is allowed (except for rickshaws & airplanes) as well as most shops have to be closed. Political parties and very left wing groups reinforce it in protest of the government, clashing (violently) at several places all over the country with security forces. We try to catch the last night bus to Pokara and miss it, probably thanks to the taxi driver who dropped us off at the wrong traffic junction. Well, another night at Butwal and the next day (10th of May) a 2h rickshaw ride back to Bhairahawa Airport, where we will catch a flight to Kathmandu.

After Zurich, Dubai, and Delhi, this airport is one of the more interesting ones. One run down building, hedged with a rusty barbed wire, somewhere out in the plain, the sight reaching as far as the high grown grass, waving in the blistering heat. Security check. Inside: A shady hall, a big fan at the ceiling, a couple of security guards 'hanging around' (all wearing different uniforms), some passengers waiting for their flight, all but one check in counters closed.

With Buddha Airways we fly to Kathmandu in a 19 seater airplane. Here we are, staying in a quiet, peaceful hotel, relaxing a bit and preparing for our overland trip to Lhasa which starts the coming Saturday, May 15th. Our hotel happens to be where one of the rising music stars of Nepal has his office, Sunil Lama. We meet him one morning having breakfast and reading newspapers in the courtyard of the hotel – cool, isn't it? No airs and graces... We have a cup of coffee together and get to hear how he managed to get as far as he is now.

We cannot complain about bad internet connections now, but we won't have any for the days venturing into China until we reach Lhasa. All we can ask you now is to log on later again.

2004-04-26T14:15:00.000+02:00

Starting point: Zuerich Airport, 26th of April 2004, boarding at 15.30 Emirates Airlines to Dubai. At about 12 o'clock midnight, we arrive at Dubai Airport. Palm trees, air condition, carpets, international
crowds (African-Arabian-Asian-international), and not a single grain of sand. 4 o'clock local time: Emirates Airline to Delhi Airport.

Delhi – spread like a seemingly endless spider web, noisy, hot, traffic gone mad and everyone offering his good business deal to you. We check in at 'My Hotel', an Indian business hotel which is lately used by more and more travellers, mostly coming from Asia.

Since it is a 'must' for every visitor to India, we go on a day trip to Agra, where one of the greatest monuments stands, the Taj Mahal. Before being able to go there, we queue for about 3 hours at the train station 'New Delhi' to get a ticket. The Taj Mahal is covered by a marmoreal facade, which is 'decorated' all over by several thousands of patterns, made of stones laid into the marble. Very impressive.

Back in Delhi, the Jama Masjid, a big mosque, like the Taj Mahal demonstrating the power of the former rulers from Middle East, generates additional impressive memories. In the morning probably one of the most peaceful places one can experience in Delhi.

On Saturday, 1st of May, we start working and leave Delhi for Rishikesh, using the night bus which takes about 8 hours – in the driver cabin, missing window and light rain. Arriving at about 6 o'clock in the morning, we change directly to a local bus which takes us across mountaineous area to Gangotri.

Gangotri, a small moutain village, lies at 3'050 metres above sea level and is the starting point for several trekking routes in the Himalaya, the most important one being the pilgrim path up to Gaumukh. At Gaumukh, the Ganges river makes its way from underneath the Gangotri Glacier up to daylight and then flows towards Gangotri and Rishikesh. It is pilgrim season; more and more people are arriving at Gangotri. To Gaumukh (at 3'900m) it is a 19km hike – we start early and manage to pass the checkpoint without somebody awake to collect the photography fee of 100 Rupees. The reward for the 7.5 hours walk: a striking view on a beautiful, snow covered scenery composed of several 6'000m peaks and – the source of the Ganges, here called Bhagirathi River. We walk back the same day and are in Gangotri after 6.5 hours, tired and ready for a rest. Plan for the next day: 12 hour bus ride back to Rishikesh.

In the evening of Tuesday, 4th of May, we arrive again in Rishikesh, this time spending a few days here. Rishikesh is split by the Ganges: on the left bank the bustling, noisy and traffic-all-over India, on the left bank the more peaceful (but nonetheless bustling and noisy) India of Ashrams & Yoga. Since the Beatles were here in the 60ies for an introduction into eastern spiritual wisdom, Rishikesh is making good profit out of the crowds coming here to retreat for a while and refers to itself as the 'yoga capital of the world'. The Gangaputra (putra=river) has grown from a lively mountain creek to a slow moving river, and on both banks there are several 'gaths' where people devote their time to a ceremonial dip in the Ganga.

Now that the computer has crashed once and I had to write this twice, and since the guys left to me are building a new part of the cyber cafe and are hammering like wild right above my head, it's time to stop. Plan for the coming days: via Lucknow to Sunauli, from there across the border to Nepal, stay a few days at Lumbini and then via Pokhara to Kathmandu. Namaste.