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Around the World 2022 Asia Bangladesh

Discovering Dhaka, Bangladesh

I like cities, better than nature if I am being honest. Sometimes when I pick a city to visit it is because it has something specific I want to see, but sometimes I am just curious about a city itself. Dhaka, Bangladesh was one of those cities. I had little on a list of ‘sites’ to see in Dhaka; it was just the city itself that appealed. Everything I read about it suggested it would be either a lively chaos or a miserable cesspool. (Seriously, most people had nothing but negative things to say about it.) Either way, I knew it would be interesting. I’ll just say now, I loved it. I loved it instantly and throughout.

It started the moment I stepped out of the airport, having flown there from Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. People crowded, shouting, pushing perilous towers of beaten-up luggage, cars bumper-to-bumper, instant heat and smells of people and exhaust and perfume. Terrific.

I got a taxi to take me to my accommodation. Dhaka is notorious for its traffic, and we did spend a little time crawling along, but I didn’t mind because everything was exciting. The overcrowded buses that looked like they had been through 50 years of bad driving, the tuk tuks, bicycles, rickshaws, and trucks, all jockeying for position. I’m sure that if I lived there, I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic, but as a new arrival, everything seemed new and thrilling.

And then we pulled up to the high gate of my accommodation: the Ambrosia Guest House. I can confidently say I would not stay anywhere else in Dhaka. There are no hostels to speak of and most of the budget hotels look grim. The fancy hotels look generic and are in a dull part of town, but this Guest House is in a perfect location for a walker like me, just off a main road but slightly tucked away with a beautiful garden oasis. I had a big private room, use of the common areas, and enjoyed breakfast each morning with the other guests. In the evenings, I had a cigar in the garden.

But I didn’t travel to Dhaka to luxuriate in gardens. So out I went.

The streets in Dhaka are wonderful madness. Endless traffic with a parade of colourful rickshaws, creating a cheerful din of handlebar bells. Old, repurposed, red double-decker buses from the UK. The regular city buses, so beaten up but painted with colourful patterns and sometimes with whimsical hearts or birds. And of course, bicycles, tuk tuks, and people on foot, like me, all moving together. It is chaos, but it works.

Everything is loud, from the voices to the horns and bells, to announcements made over loudspeakers about, presumably, things for sale at the central market.

It is colourful. Not just the buses, but the people, many dressed in bright local or traditional clothing, stalls selling fresh flowers, businesses covered in a riot of multicoloured signage that can only come from a lack of regulation.

Nothing is orderly or slow. It is all terrific and exhilarating.

I walked for a bit, stopping for coffees or teas. I wandered through book stalls and shops at the market and meandered around taking it all in.

I then hailed a rickshaw to take me to the edge of Old Dhaka. That was fun. I discovered later that I paid about 10x more than I should have, but the price I paid was still like $3 cdn, so it was cheap – especially since I was paying for a slightly-built human being to pull me by the power of his own cycling whilst I rode in my sparkly rickshaw seat like a king.

I was dropped off at the Dhakeshwari Temple, a candy-coloured Hindu temple. I can’t tell you much about it, but it was busy with worshippers and had altars of slightly fearsome, slightly comedic looking gods.

From there, I wandered towards the Lalbagh Fort. It wasn’t difficult to find. Buildings in Old Dhaka are not that tall and eventually I saw the walls and the tops of the fort ahead of me. The entrance fee was negligible and well worth it. The fort structures inside are fine. A bit like the Red Fort in Delhi or the Lahore Fort in Lahore, but much smaller. The real treat are the grounds, lovely expanses of green with beautiful flowers.

It was all locals (and me) inside, everyone enjoying the serenity. It was there though that I discovered the Bangladeshis’ fondness for selfies. I couldn’t go a few feet without being asked to take selfies with people. One person asked me to hold their baby for the photo. (I declined that. I’ve never held a baby in my life and was not to start with a stranger’s child.) Eventually I had to start declining the selfies or I would never get where I was going. People asked me where I was from and, smiling, wished me happy travels in Bangladesh. Both the selfies and friendly greetings happened everywhere. Even people that spoke very little English would manage to ask me where I was from and say, “thank you”.

From there I visited the Armenian church, a pretty buttercream and yellow church surrounded by trees. I was let in by the caretaker who unlocked it and was happy to show me around. (All my pictures were lousy, but it is worth visiting.)

I stepped out of the church and was trying to decide which direction to walk next, when a young man approached me. He spoke English and asked me where I was from and if I was lost. I explained I was just looking around and he suggested I walk to the river and told me the way. He gave me his business card and said that if I needed anything, to contact him. That too was not the only time that kind of hospitality happened.

I did walk down to the banks of the Bariganga River. The river is the life of the city, connecting it to the rest of the country. The waterways are filled with passenger ships, cargo ships, and little boats transporting people and goods. It is as energetic as the streets. I sat on the banks of the river, smoked some cigarillos and watched the action. I did not go out on a boat that day but did the next.

After that, I continued to walk the streets of Old Dhaka. Old Dhaka is, well, the oldest part of the city. The streets are narrow, sometimes not even wide enough for cars. The buildings are in poor repair and the streets are lined with shops, restaurants, small mosques, and tons of food vendors.

Mysterious fried snacks filled with vegetables or meat, sweets, fresh juices, overly sweet tea, fruits, plates of curries and biryani. I ate some things where I was able to discern that they were vegetarian. I assumed I would get some sort of food poisoning not matter how careful I was, so why not go down enjoying the local food? (Amazingly I did not get sick on this trip.)

I walked back to my hotel, getting there after dark.

On the way back I saw something I had not expected. I was on a busy street with sidewalks and there was a man lying down. I hadn’t seen this yet in Dhaka, so it caught my attention. Plus, the man was lying in an uncomfortable position…with his eyes wide open…and not moving. I stopped. Also not moving: his chest. I know what a dead person’s open eyes look like and this was it. No one else was stopping, so I walked to the corner, where there was a group of policemen. I approached them and tried to say what I had seen, but they didn’t speak English. I tried to communicate through miming. I pointed, then leaned back with my arms crossed over my chest. Made a slashing movement in front of my throat…but they didn’t seem to understand. So I carried on. At that point it wasn’t exactly an emergency situation, and I did what I could. It was a little jarring to see death in the middle of a city that feels so alive, but you can’t have life without death. You just don’t often see it.

I had only been in Dhaka a half a day but saw so much. I finished the evening in my hotel’s garden with a cigar, reflecting on all of it.

A few practical comments:

As I discussed in a previous post, I did have to get a visa ahead of time, but there was no other hassle entering the country.

Dhaka is inexpensive. Like, really cheap. You can obviously spend more if you want to go to western-style restaurants and cafes, but just walking around, taking local transport, and eating at casual places or on the street, you would struggle to spend $10.

This is one of those places where you should have cash. I brought a mix of Euros and US dollars and exchanged them for Bangladeshi Taka as needed. I did try some ATMS just to see if they worked. Some did. Some didn’t. You can’t expect places to take cards unless they are more upscale.

I felt completely safe, day and night. It is so busy and there are always people around and they are exceedingly helpful. No one was rude or leering or threatening in any way. Probably the only risk is tripping or stepping into a hole in the sidewalk.

It was really hot and humid. Staying clean was impossible. That said, despite the heat, it felt good. There are so many trees and often a nice breeze, especially near the river.

Most people didn’t speak English but often there would be someone around who would speak it a bit if you really need to communicate.

In case I haven’t made it clear: I thought Dhaka was awesome and was happy to have more days ahead.

Europe Germany Riga Long Weekend

Munich Layover – Part Two

Six hours in Munich. That was my opportunity as I flew home from my long weekend in Latvia. Never one to leave a crumb of vacation on the table, I decided I would again head into the city, just as I had three days prior. This time, though, I was more efficient (and did not get lost looking for the entrance to the S-Bahn).

Getting out of the station at Marionplatz, this time I turned left instead of right and wandered down a big pedestrian street, popping into a café and a church (the Frauenkirche).

The boulevard was busy with leisure seekers, sipping coffee and shopping. Buskers staked out their places – my favourite being a young kid playing an upright piano with the skill of a trained classical composer. I watched him for some time and was dismayed by all the people who video recorded him and did not give him a cent. I over tipped him, which both compensated his talents and made me feel like a superior person in comparison to those who gave nothing. (I’m sure there are plenty of time I don’t give money, but this time I did.) Money well spent.

I popped into a bright yellow church: the Theatin Church of St. Cajetan (built in the late 1600s). I’ll pretty much poke my head into any old church. I generally know they will either be dull or beautiful and occasionally they will be jaw-droppingly opulent, like many of the orthodox churches in Russia. This was something else. While the outside was brightly hued the inside was a monochromatic pale grey. It was extremely decorative in its carved ornamentation, but every bit is it was this pale grey. It looked like someone just turned the color off and left it in monochrome, like an optical trick. I thought it was extraordinary.

*interior of the Theatin Church of St. Cajetan*

Feeling elevated by the street music and the architectural design I set off to see some visual arts at the Haus der Kunst, which was a pleasant walk through a park.

The Haus der Kunst was built by the Nazis to show its collection of dull, rural, Aryan art, but now features art that represents diverse groups and challenges. I hadn’t been there before, but picked it because it is fairly small, so it seemed perfect for my short stopover.

I don’t know what they normally show, but when I was there, they had all installations – light, sound, and fog. Many years ago when I first heard of a light or sound art installation, it thought it was stupid. Some kind of pretentious scam. I later realized they are legitimate and can be amazing. But when I heard of a fog installation, again, my first reaction was scepticism. “That sounds stupid,” I thought, as I entered a large, high-ceilinged room with a long pool of water down the centre and taking up most of the floor space. We all stood around, waiting, then there was an almost imperceptible sound. Was it a rumble or a tone? And then fog started to rise from one end of the pool and it rolled in a controlled way down the pool to the other end, filling the room with haze until the figures around me nearly disappeared. Subtle lighting gave everything a blue-green tint. It was eerie and beautiful and menacing. And then it was over. I was converted. I know it sounds stupid, but it was great. (I should say that the artist is Fujiko Nakaya from Japan and this is what she does.)

There were also excellent installations where record players on pedestals filled a room and randomly turned on when a shaft of light fell on them and each would play its record, each of which was a soundscape of a different city. Calls to prayer, traffic, overlapping conversations.

Another favourite was a room then enveloped the viewed in a swirl of sounds and words.

The experience of all of these things left me feeling full of emotion and conviction that art (be it music, writing, architecture, or even bloody fog) is the most important thing we do and makes the world a better place. I mean, I do feel this way generally, but sometimes i get kind of swept up in it all.

With my heart full and spirit uplifted, I made my way back to the train station and the airport and returned with plenty of time of time. I understand why one might not like to leave the airport with a six-hour layover, and this may seem obvious, but I am amazed at what one can do and experience in such a short time. It was a wonderful end to my already great Latvian long weekend and left me feeling satisfied. I would be happy to see more in Munich, but I can’t believe all I enjoyed in my two layovers.

Europe Latvia Riga Long Weekend

Latvia Long Weekend – Riga day one

I landed in Riga, Latvia very late. Past midnight. I would get just a few hours of sleep before getting up early to see the city. No time for sleeping in or having leisurely breakfasts. I had flown to Riga for a long weekend. From Vancouver. Not the sort of trip with time for relaxation built in.

As I said in my previous post, I didn’t know much about Latvia. Riga just seemed like a nice place to spend two and half days, the architecture looked pretty, and, well, what a great opportunity to learn something about a place I knew little about.

I took a taxi from the airport to the old town centre, to my hostel, the Blue Bird Hostel. I let myself in with a key code and snuggled into my bunk bed, careful not to wake my sleeping roommates.

In the morning, I went outside and began to explore.

Riga’s old city centre is stunning. So are the centres of many European capitals, but this one really stands out. Gracefully curving streets lined with colorful buildings, often adorned with decorative paintings or whimsical flourishes. There is, for example, a building that is yellow with turrets and at the top of each is a black cat, arching its back with hostility (a sort of ‘fuck you’ to a particular guild that had denied entry to the owner of the building.). Another has a statue of a German Shepherd standing guard over the roof.

The place is a delight and a dream to take pictures of. And because it is touristy, you don’t feel weird taking pictures of streets and shops and whatnot, the way I sometimes do when I am the only tourist around and everyone else is just trying to get on with their lives.

There are some museums and galleries here and there, but when I visited, all but one was closed for refurbishment or covid. No matter: the streets were the main attraction.

I stopped for coffees at cute little cafes and went in search of public art, including a statue of a ghost that, inexplicably, made me uneasy even though it was, you know, a statue. There were tourists wandering about doing a lot of the same things that I was, but the town was far from over run.

Getting outside of the historic centre, the city felt less precious, but the architecture was still awesome. Riga is known for having an impressive display of art nouveau buildings. They are not difficult to find. There are a few streets that are lined, end to end, with these gorgeous buildings. Colorful and decorated with white filigree, often depicting ancient legends, or incorporating imagery like dragons, flowers, and sexy naked people. One of my favorite details were large faces staring out, open mouthed in shock or horror.

*Buildings on and around Alberta Street*

I do feel a teensy bit bad for the people who live in the buildings on Alberta Street, where there must just be an endless parade of tourists snapping selfies in front of the striking structures. (But that concern did not stop me from taking dozens of pictures.)

When you get away from these streets and before plunging back into the confection of the old centre, there are more ordinary streets, but charming in their own right. Modest but appealing old two-level wooden buildings, serious coffee roasters, and graffiti.

I had a coffee at the excellent Rocket Bean Roastery and then decided to seek out the Oak Lounge, a cigar lounge, for a break. (I had been walking for hours without rest.) To my delight, the cigar lounge was across the street. Sweet serendipity. I bought a Bolivar from the modest but reasonably priced selection and settled in with a tea and my cigar. It was early and was quiet. I chatted a bit with a local guy until his friend came to join him. Otherwise, is just smoked and planned my next moves.

I spent the rest of that day continuing to walk around. I walked over through a park lining the Daugava river, visited a grand, orthodox cathedral, and then over to the Riga Cental Market.

The market visit was good. They always are, but this had the bonus of being housed in WWI zeppelin hangars. Yeah. It was cool. I spent time wandering amongst the pickled vegetables and dumplings, fruits, and honey, trying to imagine dirigibles filling the spaces, which then led to me thinking about air ships generally and trying to remember the difference between a dirigible, a blimp, and a zeppelin. (This is, incidentally, something I look up regularly and never seem to remember.)

The area around the market was just a little bit seedy and busy, which was a great antidote to the beauty of the old centre.

Riga was beautiful and I loved it, but you really can see the old city in a half to a full a day. I loved the wandering, but it was not a big area. With the museums closed, before I was finished my first day, I was starting to feel like it was out of things to do, in that area anyway. So I planned a walking tour of ‘alternative Riga’ for the next day.

I had a mediocre meal on an excellent patio before wandering over to the Grand Hotel Kempinski, to enjoy their very fancy cigar lounge. The cigar prices were insane, so I smoked a cigar I brought with me (a Quai d’Orsay) and had a fancy tea service. In the lounge I had a most pleasant conversation with a Norwegian accountant in town for a corporate weekend and nursing a hangover from the previous night’s festivities (strip clubs).

After that I went and had a martini under an umbrella on a patio (it was raining) where I had yet another cigar while chatting with vacationing and moderately intoxicated Brits and Russians.

I had hoped maybe to find someone from my hostel to hang out with, but the people I encountered there were fairly dull and seemed to spend the whole day sleeping and watching Netflix. Dull.

It was a perfectly pleasant Riga day. I was completely satisfied with my first day and looking forward to more.

Europe Germany Riga Long Weekend

Munich Layover Part One

Latvia for a long weekend in May

It was the May long weekend, and I had an extra day off. There was no question that I was going somewhere, but where was the question. For the May four-day weekend in April I went to Malta, which meant that, for variety, I should have gone somewhere other than Europe, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about Latvia. I don’t even know what I was thinking except that 1) the only Baltic country I had been to was Estonia (and that was years ago) and 2) they have incredible art nouveau architecture in Riga. The tipping point in favour of going was when I saw that I could spend a long layover in Munich on either end of the trip, and I hadn’t been to Munich. Flying to Riga for a long weekend from Vancouver isn’t exactly a budget fight for a long weekend, but not terrible and being in Riga is a bargain, so I booked the flight.

Layover in Munich

I was excited to have a layover in Munich – two layovers actually. Six hours each. Long enough to see something of the city. I arrived at about 1:00 pm and power walked my way through the airport, through immigration, where the officer told me, looking through my nearly full passport “you travel too much”, and to the S-Bahn station. (As an aside, this was the final trip that I took with that passport, as it was full – 6 years into its 10-year lifespan. I wear that as a badge of honour.)

The S-1 and the S-8 both go to the city centre of Munich and come every 10 minutes or so. The ride takes about 40 minutes. To save time, I had pre-purchased my train ticket online. (This was not really necessary. I could have bought it from a machine easily, but like I said, it was a 6-hour layover. Every minute counts.)

The Marienplaz Station is the one right in the centre of the old town and coming up the escalator from the station into the sunlight, was a delight. Germany! I was immediately surrounded by beautiful old buildings, street musicians, and throngs of people. It was a hot spring day and even if all I had had time for was a coffee in the square, that would have been satisfying. But I had time for a bit more.

I had done a bit of map review before my flight, so I had a rough plan about where I wanted to walk. I didn’t stray too far from the main square, gawking at the Neues Rathaus (the new town hall) and Alte Rathaus (the old town hall) before walking around the food stalls of the Viktualienmarkt, picking up a perfect sandwich to munch on.

I didn’t linger anywhere too long, but enjoyed wandering around the area, having a coffee, buying a cigar at a little shop, enjoying the architecture, and poking my head into shops and churches.

With a 6-hour layover, I comfortably had 3 hours in the city, so was never totally relaxed. My pace was brisk and I checked the time a lot, but I had a good time and made mental notes (also some actual notes) about what I would do when I returned in 3 days’ time.

I took the train back to the airport where, thankfully, there were no extraordinary queues, and was back in time to duck into a lounge at the airport before boarding my flight to Riga. Next stop: Latvia.

Europe Malta

Easter in Malta

They take Easter seriously in Malta. The population is about 90% Catholic and grand churches are ubiquitous. People actually seem to practice their religion – or at least the holidays. I thought it would be interesting to visit on Easter weekend and take in the celebrations. And it was, although visiting that weekend means a lot of things are closed on Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Let me be clear that I am an atheist, but I love visiting religious sites and seeing people in prayer or religious ritual. I try to blend in, but I always feel like my heathen status is apparent. I was also keenly aware of the fact that I had a fresh tattoo of the devil on my left forearm. Thankfully it was long-sleeves weather.

I had arrived on the afternoon of Good Friday. On that day in Valletta there are processions through the city with Christ on the cross carried aloft. Things are closed and there is a solemn air. I missed the processions but caught enough of the solemnity.

On Easter Sunday in Valletta – and in the other cities in Malta – there is a festive atmosphere as processions proclaiming Christ reborn happen. There are parades with statues of Christ risen carried through the streets and then people run through the city carrying the Christ statues. I had to see that.

The problem is, it is very difficult to get any information about when these processions start. I thought it might be in the morning, so I went out early, walking around and luring around various churches and squares, drinking coffees. The day was sunny, and I was happy to hang around, even if I had seen most of the sights the previous day.

One thing I hadn’t yet seen was the interior of Saint John’s Co-Cathedral, a massive church in the centre. I got there just before it opened and there was already a big queue (not sure if that is an Easter thing or a regular thing). The queue moved fast though, and I was led into the crowded, but ornate interior. It was worth the wait.

Saint John’s Co-Cathedral (Kon-Katidral ta’ San Ġwann in Maltese) is a church built in the 1570s. It has a relatively simple exterior and a glorious, Baroque interior. Every inch is covered in glided design and ornamentation. Some of the chapels have paintings by Caravaggio and there is a small but lovely crypt. Definitely worth visiting, even if if i had to elbow my way past the crowds.

I poked around various churches and caught a bit of an Ethiopian service where people were dressed like the pilgrims I had seen in Lalibela, Ethiopia. I watched through the door of an orthodox service and caught a bit of a Catholic one.

As it turned out the processions started in the afternoon. I found the church where people and marching band members were congregating, and I waited. Finally, a palanquin with a huge statue of Christ was brought out of the Church by a group of young men in white robes who carried it on their shoulders. And it began.

The procession was headed by a series of…religious guys. I want to say they were priests, but I feel like they had higher titles, but I don’t really know. They were dressed in fancy robes and headdresses, some carrying ornate staffs, some swinging thuribles burning incense. One guy was dressed in red robes with a comical grey wig. I have no idea who he was, but he seemed important, even if he looked silly. Following the statue was a marching band and then hundreds of people.

They paraded through the city. I followed along and sometimes got ahead of it to take pictures. It ended at Saint John’s Co-Cathedral, where Christ was taken inside and then brought out again as bells rang. After that, the running with Christ started.

It was an interesting spectacle.

After all that was done, I wandered around a bit more as it got dark and then settled in for a late dinner of pasta, a perfect negroni, and a cigar on a quiet street where jazz was playing. It was cold, but I didn’t mind.

My time in Malta was at an end, as I flew home in the morning. I liked Valletta. It didn’t satisfy that part of my that craves adventure, but it was beautiful, pleasant, and I did feel like participating in the Easter festivities gave it a special flavour, even for a heathen like me.

Europe Malta

Malta Long Weekend

The Plan

I had an extra day off work on Easter weekend, which gave me four clear days off. I canvassed my list of possible international trip ideas for a four day weekend and decided on Malta. It looked lovely, it is tiny, and it isn’t packed with too many sights for a couple of days. Plus, it was Easter weekend, which meant processions and ceremony. Done. I booked the flight.

An overnight trip from Vancouver to Frankfurt, a short connection, and a flight to Valletta. I left Thursday after work and was in a taxi heading to my accommodations on Friday afternoon. Like magic.

Arrival in Valletta

Malta is a couple of small islands in the Mediterranean, just south of Sicily. It is a country. A beautiful island micro country, like a tiny jewel in a magnificent setting. A few fun facts about Malta: they speak English by and large but they have their own language which is Maltese, which seems like is a mix of Italian and Arabic, but then there are unique letters like an H with an extra line through it. Interesting.

Malta is immediately impressive. In that first taxi ride, the sun was up and it was stunning to see that light reflecting off of the sand coloured buildings and churches that lined the hilly streets, which led to the sea in every direction. Domed churches, clusters of cemeteries red, blue and green wooden balconies — all lovely.

I stayed at what called itself a hotel but was really more of an Airbnb in that I let myself in with a key pad and never saw anyone. Not my favourite, but the hostels were not in central Valletta and the hotels that were, were expensive. This place was fine. Not cheap, but about as good as can be expected for a destination like this. I was happy enough.

On that first day I did what I always do: I walked. I walked fairly aimlessly to get my bearings and see what there was to see. Valletta was even better on foot than it was in a taxi. So many narrow streets with tremendous views, beautiful architecture, and inviting cafes and bistros.

It was a bit cold when the sun went down but I found a restaurant with some heaters on its patio and I had dinner, a cigar, and a martini. It was a great introduction to the city.

Valletta Day Two

This is normally the part where I would break to a new blog post for day two, but, I don’t have that much to say, so I’ll carry on. Here’s the thing, Valletta IS beautiful and it IS a great choice for a weekend break, but two and a half days there felt long. Valletta is small and easy to walk and see in a day (a busy day). I would have spent more time in galleries and museums, but many of them were closed; some due to renovations or maybe covid, but almost everything was closed on Easter Sunday. So mostly, I walked. I explored the narrow streets, enjoyed the architecture new and old, visited the library, MUZA (the National Museum of Fine Arts), and the 17th C historic house of Casa Rocca Piccola.

When I needed a rest, I stopped for a coffee and a small cigar. (Weirdly, there are no cigar lounges in Valletta, but smoking outdoors is fine, if a bit chilly in April. I SAW “weirdly” because Valletta seems quite posh and classic and it seems like it should have dark wood panelled cigar rooms filled with posh men in leather chairs. But it doesn’t — or maybe it does but they are so posh that they are off limits to me.)

I visited the Upper Gardens, which, as gardens are fine, but the impressive thing is they have the most incredible views of the water, the rooftops, and of the neighbouring islands. Cannons line the edges, facing the sea.

From the gardens I took the outdoor elevator, running parallel to a cliff, down to the lower part of the city and got on a small ferry boat. Tiny things, they only hold about six passengers and look a little like gondolas. The ride across to the “Three Cities” is cheap and pleasant and, if you take the crossing on a super windy day, as I did, it is a little exciting. The boatman did not share my enthusiasm for the wind and waves.

Taking the boat across to explore the other side is reason enough, but I had a more specific purpose. The Fort of Saint Angelo. It is open to the public and is fine for a visit, if not very interesting, but what I wanted to see was the visit to the upper fort.

The upper fort of Saint Angelo is technically, kind of, it’s own sovereign state. It isn’t one of the 193 universally recognized countries on the UN list, but it is recognized by the UN as being sovereign. It is the territory of the Sovereign Military Hospitaller Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, of Rhodes and of Malta (or the Sovereign Military Order of Malta for short.) It has no land per se, but has this space in Malta and some in Rome. The Order has relationships with and is recognized by over 100 countries and had its own stamps and I have read that it also has passports and currency but I’m not sure about that.

So will I add it on to my list of countries visited? No. But it is pretty cool, like visiting Transnistria or the Vatican or Christiania. I love these geographical/political rebels.

I expected some kind of fan fare, but sadly I just stepped across the threshold of a black gate, under a seal, past a sign, and I was in.

There wasn’t too much to see on the other side. I had hoped for cloaked figures in the shadows at least. But I walked around and took pictures and then when I was satisfied I left and bloated back to Valletta.

The evening was an excellent meal and a negroni with a couple of cigars.

Reflections

It was all lovely and pleasant and pretty…and I am happy I went … but it wasn’t super exciting. I think Malta is one of those places where it might be nice to be there with a significant other (something I am sure I will never have or do); I say this because Valletta is just so romantic — romantic and a teensy bit dull — so I could imagine being there with someone with whole you want to linger over meals or glasses or wine with. Or maybe it is better for people who want to relax more than I do. Plus, being that Valletta is decidedly not a backpacker crowd, I had trouble meeting people. It seemed like everyone else was there for their own family or romantic weekend so people didn’t seem so open to chatting up weird Canadian cigar smoking solo travel women. Fair enough.

I don’t want to dissuade anyone from going to Malta; it is gorgeous and unique and historically interesting, and romantic. It’s just that for me, travelling the way I do, a day and a half was fine and I could have done with some (mis)adventure.

The next day, were it not Easter Sunday, I would have ventured to the ancient temple of the Hypogeum, but it was closed for the holiday and I really wanted to see the Easter Sunday festivities in Valletta. That I will save for another post.

Central America / Caribbean Guatemala North America

Antigua, Guatemala

Prologue

I try not to mix work and travel. That isn’t always possible, and I will work on holiday if I have to, but I try to keep it minimal. But when the law firm I work at, inspired by the working for home trends we all got used to during covid, announced that we could take an extra week away in a remote work ‘workation’, I wasn’t going to let that opportunity pass by. Yes, I would have to work, but I could do it from anywhere. I realized staying in a relatively comparable time zone would be essential and I wanted to go somewhere I hadn’t been. I put on my digital nomad hat and decided on Antigua, Guatemala.

Because I spent my 9ish days in Guatemala mostly working, I’ll condense it down to three posts: one about Antigua, one about cigars in Antigua, and one about my trip to see the pyramids at Tikal.

Arriving in Antigua

I landed in Guatemala City and took a taxi to Antigua. It is cheaper to take a bus or shuttle, but my flight had been delayed by man hours and I just wanted to get where I was going with minimal hassle and delay. I chatted with my driver, Carlos, who told me mostly about the covid restrictions in Guatemala, which was masks required everywhere. Even outside and even in your own car. Of course, as he told me about this and we discovered we were of like minds, we ditched the masks. As it turned out, enforcement was minimal, so I ended up only having to mask indoors.

I had booked myself an Air BnB in the historic centre of Antigua. I am not usually a self-contained apartment rental person (I like the interactive-ness of hostels and having front desk people to answer questions and give advice; but I was there to work, so a quiet place all to myself was required. I chose well. I little one room apartment with everything I needed, including, most importantly, a pleasant courtyard with a table where I could work and a hammock where I could relax. It was simple, cute, and affordable.

That initial drive into Antigua was fabulous. It is so pretty and colorful. The whole town is a Unesco site, so nothing is out of place. All of the buildings are either low rise, colorful, Spanish colonial or grand barroco antigueño buildings. There are no billboards, no advertising, no neon – even the banks had low key signs that sort of disappeared into the overall traditional design. It looked like a movie. Or a dream.

The streets were cobbled. As we drove in, we passed the leafy central park square, which was filled with people at a crafts market, enjoying the shade, or strolling through. It seems like every block revealed some picturesque church, fruit stand, or building. And high above the buildings in the distance were volcanos – proper ones. Triangular mountains with, sometimes, plumes of smoke pouring out of the top. It was all perfect. I congratulated myself for having chosen well.

It was Saturday and it was late afternoon. By the time I left my room, it was getting dark. I used that first evening to walk around and get my bearings. I had dinner from a food cart near one of the churches (something vegetarian and spicy and crunchy with avocados for about $1) and found a cigar lounge near the yellow arch and enjoyed a Cuban cigar before walking back for bed. Antigua felt totally safe, and I did walk around at all hours of the day and night without issue.

The real sightseeing would be the next day – Sunday – before I started my workweek.

Sunday Sightseeing

As this was probably going to be my one free day to see Antigua, I didn’t have time to waste. I got up and out early. The air was beautiful. Warm and sunny, but not hot. I walked out onto the streets which seemed to be lined with trees and bursts of colored flowers at every turn. And this is on top of the colorful and cute buildings. Everything was charming.

Antigua doesn’t have a bunch of big sights or attractions. The attraction is the town itself, for how pretty and well preserved it is. And it does not disappoint. I walked up and down almost all the main streets that day, stopping into churches and cafes as I went.

The local transportation is even charming: colorful and shiny “chicken buses” (repurposed and highly decorated old formerly yellow school buses) rolling down the cobbled streets.

I visited the market at the park and walked down the street with the distinctive yellow arch, which was originally built as a passageway to allow nuns to get from a building on one side of the street to the other.

It definitely feels touristy in Antigua, but as it was still covid times, the tourists were not overrunning the place and it is still certainly a place where people live and work. Most of the people I encountered didn’t speak English (or spoke only very little). And it didn’t feel like all of the businesses were there to cater to tourists only.

There are museums, but I skipped them. I was worried about running out of time to do my aimless wandering.

I think a day in Antigua would be good to see it; two if you want to do museums and enjoy more of the restaurants; three if you want to relax. I was happy with my one day of walking and didn’t feel like I would be deprived when I sat down to work the next day. But as it turned out it was great to have the week; even though I was working, I got to experience more of the daily life and what it is like to have a routine while traveling, which was a bit novel for me.

Work Week

I’ll spare you the details of my work life, but I enjoyed this experiment in remote work. Every morning I got up ridiculously early and went on a lovely walk, each day stopping at some new café, before heading back to my abode.

I would work all day – smoking cigars the entire time – and then wrap it up around 5:00pm when I could. I work much longer days when I am at home, but I could be a bit more efficient working there as there was no chit chat and time wasting. Plus, I was motivated to finish early to I could go out.

Every evening I would walk, go to a different place for dinner or walk around some street I had missed previously, and I would go for a cigar. I have a bit to say about the cigar scene in Antigua, but I’ll put that in a separate post. Suffice it for now to say that cigars remain one of the best ways (for me) to connect with a group of people in a new place and Antigua was no exception.

Café Culture

A word about cafes: Antigua has a lot of great ones. It was overwhelming, actually. So many that were cute or historic, or trendy, or had excellent offerings of beans and methods of delivery. A lot of them had tasty food and vegetarian or vegan treats. It was great. Occasionally I spent an hour in the morning or afternoon working from the ones with wifi. I could have stayed longer to go to them all. I had this plan at one point to discuss my favourites and write little reviews, but that’s not really my thing. Just get out there and stumble on them, drink coffee, and be delighted.

Reflections

This remote work week was a nice routine. Every day when I finished work I was in a foreign city and that felt like a bonus. Like I was getting away with something.

As much as I liked Antigua, I couldn’t live there. It’s too small and I would feel trapped there not knowing how to drive; and as pretty as it is, that would lose its charm, I think. Plus, I think that when the pandemic ends, and tourism is back to normal I could see it being unpleasantly touristy, like Bali. I could probably have spent another week, but I don’t see myself looking to retire there or anything.

It was, though, relaxing. Maybe my most relaxing trip ever because there weren’t a million things to do, and I wasn’t run off my feet doing things all day. It was just work and leisurely evenings. A vacation with relaxation…what a concept. This is pretty new to me, as I tend to travel quickly. I like to learn about a place and experience it, but I don’t relax much and have a restlessness to move on. This was a different experience.

Moving on

Anyway, the last weekend I had there only gave me one more free day. I needed all day Sunday to get home, but Saturday was all mine and there was no way I was leaving Guatemala without seeing the magical-looking Tikal. But that is for another post.

Europe Iraqi Kurdistan/Albania trip 2022 Serbia

One Night in Belgrade

I hadn’t planned to come to Belgrade. Not on this trip anyway. My arrival was the result of a flight cancellation. A setback turned serendipity when I had to look for an alternate flight from Tirana back to Vancouver. What I found was a flight to Belgrade and a one-night stay. Belgrade and Serbia as a whole clearly deserve more time, but I was determined to make the most of what I had.

My flight touched down on time. I grabbed my carryon bag and powerwalked to immigration where a dour-faced man stamped my passport without question. Without eye contact. From there to a taxi to my accommodations. A “hostel” that was really more of an Airbnb. The location was perfect, and the price was right. I’m not a fan of apartment rentals, but so be it. As I arrived the sun was about to set so I didn’t have time to waste, which made it all the more frustrating when I arrived and there was no one there to meet me with the keys. I loitered for 30 minutes in the dark hallway of what felt like an abandoned building before an apologetic man in a bathrobe showed up to let me in and show me what was what in broken English.

Freedom!

I went out onto the street. The sun had just set. No matter. I walked over to a main square in front of an opera house where there was a puzzling Christmas market. I say “puzzling” because it was late February. But there it was: Christmas trees, wooden stall decorated with candy canes, mulled wine, huge gift decorations, holiday music, and one Santa wandering around. Had I time travelled ever so slightly? I couldn’t get any official answers. The best I could figure out was that because tax dollars pay for the Christmas stuff, the people want to get their money’s worth.

At this point I should probably say that all of my photos of Belgrade suck. They are all in the dark and most of them are slightly blurry. I don’t know if this is because I was in a rush or because it was cold or what, but they are all lousy. At least I can’t be accused of photoshopping to artificial perfection.

From there I went on a walk that I had sort of half mapped out on the plane. I knew it would be evening, so some things would be off limits, but I figured I could still visit churches and loop around past some impressive buildings. And so I did.

The churches were excellent. Warm and glowing and mercifully open, so I could wander in and appreciate the décor whilst warming up a bit.

My favorite was the small church just next to the enormous Church of Saint Sava (not sure of the name), which was just covered in bright, religious murals.

The streets were decently busy, but being that it was chilly, I wasn’t inclined to sit outside, so I mostly kept moving.

I popped into a little bar, just down from Saint Sava. A cozy, tiny spot with lots of cushions and jazz music playing. I had a drink and…smoked a small cigar. That’s right, in Belgrade smoking indoors is allowed – maybe even encouraged. What a treat.

I wandered around a bit more and found my way over to a busy pedestrian thoroughfare with lots of stores (mostly closed by that time) and lots of restaurants. I settled on one that looked lively and had something vegetarian on the menu (lots of other places didn’t). It was jovial and smoky and … still sporting its Christmas decorations. A fine place to pass some time.

And that’s basically what I did. I walked around some more until I acknowledged that I should get some sleep before I had to return to the airport. 3 hours sleep to be exact. It was a quick stop in Serbia, but I liked what I saw and hope to return.

Oh, I did pop into one more place: a record store/bar, Leila Records, where I had a third small cigar and an espresso martini.

And so put an end to a trip that took me from Iraqi Kurdistan to Albania, North Macedonia, driving through Kosovo and spending a night in Serbia. Action packed. (Post Script: I returned home without a next trip planned, but as it would later turn out, in a few weeks’ time I was off to Guatemala. 2022 was off to a great start.)

Europe Iraqi Kurdistan/Albania trip 2022 North Macedonia

Wandering North Macedonia

Roadtrip!

I couldn’t resist the Wandering North/North Macedonia mashup for the title of this post, but I really wasn’t wandering North Macedonia; it was a strategic strike. I didn’t see myself doing a proper trip to North Macedonia, but a day trip from Tirana seemed perfect. I looked at options to get from Tirana to Skopje (the capital of North Macedonia) by bus and regular taxis and it is do-able but seemed like doing it in a day might be an unwelcome challenge, so I looked for a guide to take me on the day trip. I am glad I did. I got see everything I wanted to in a single day and got loads of useful information about the area.

The tour I booked was through “Go As Local“. It wasn’t cheap as a solo traveler, but it was good value. I was picked up early in the morning by colleagues and buddies Andi and Skerdi. They were delightful. They gave me lots of good historical and present-day information and answered all my questions. As a bonus, they are really great company and quite funny. They get along and have a good vibe between them that was enjoyable. They were good companions for what was a long day.

Just a bit of History

If you haven’t been keeping up with the Balkans, here’s the deal with North Macedonia (big picture only). In the 20^th century it was ruled by Bulgaria and Serbia, then became part of communist Yugoslavia. After the Soviet Union fell, it became Macedonia. The problem is, according to Greece, ‘Macedonia’ is a region in Greece and they demanded a name change to the new nation. Macedonia relented and in 2018 Macedonia became North Macedonia. In the 21^st century there have been disputes with Albanian insurgents in Macedonia seeking independence, but that seems to be resolved.

Macedonia is mostly Eastern Orthodox, with about a quarter of the population being Muslim. They speak Macedonian, which in written in Cyrillic. They have beautiful currency (the Dener).

It was a nice drive. Rolling green hills, picturesque towns, the hillside dotted with mosques.

It wasn’t a long trip from Tirana to our first stop: Ohrid.

Ohrid, North Macedonia

Ohrid is notable for being beautiful and, at one time, although a small city (or large town) it had 365 churches. One for each day of the year. I guess they just took a day off each leap year. Most of the churches are long gone, but there are some, the most notable of which is an orthodox church sitting above Lake Orhrid. We walked up a hill though streets of houses to a picturesque fort at the top, Macedonia’s super cool flag flying from top.

(I do really like their flag. A yellow circle with bright, thick yellow rays on a bright red background. It is so bold. It looks like what you might see in a comic book when someone gets karate chopped or takes a kick to the head.)

Anyway, we walked up to the fort, then through the trees, down past the church, which looked stunning over the sparkling lake, then down along a boardwalk on the edge of the lake, past wooden boats and charmingly rustic waterfront dwellings.

It is lovely. That said, I really didn’t need to spend more time there. Sure, I could imagine having a meal and a cigar at one of the outdoor, lakeside restaurants, maybe even spending a night, but I wouldn’t necessarily have seen more; only relaxed. So I prefer the way things actually transpired, which is that we sped off to Skopje.

Skopje, North Macedonia

While Ohrid is an easy day trip from Tirana, Skopje is pretty far. This leg of the journey was less picturesque, but still pleasant. I was looking forward to Skopje because, well, it looked weird. And I like weird. As it turned out all of Skopje is not weird. Much of it is normal and nice, but the part that is weird did not disappoint.

So, in 1963 a huge earthquake destroyed much of the city centre. Many years later the government undertook a project called “Skopje 2014” which was designed to give Skopje an identity, celebrate famous Macedonians (like Alexander the Great and Mother Theresa), and attract visitors.

The result is that the centre looks artificial and haphazard and like it is trying too hard to look classic and refined. Some people have compared it to Las Vegas, which is apt. Like Caesar’s Palace or the Venetian, it’s a grand and a bit tacky. It also feels a bit like a person with poor taste won the lottery and bought every ornate and fancy object they could in an effort to show off their wealth and new class.

The centre of Skopje has, on one side of a small river, a row of gleaming white neo classical / baroque buildings, each with rows of famous (?) historic figures in front. (As I understand it, these buildings are very poorly constructed and are already falling into disrepair. But, man, are they white.) There are foot bridges across the small river. Each bridge is crammed with statues of important persons. On either side of the river there are squares with HUGE statues. Like Luxor huge. Genghis Khan huge. And there are all the images you would expect from classical sculpture, but mashed up in jarring way. There are horses, lions, fountains, thrones, groups of men, solitary men, women in flowing robes, etc. And everything is just sort of plunked down, seemingly at random. It is a lot to take in.

If the goal was to connect Macedonia with important historical figures or make its history more important or to have people take it more seriously, I don’t think it was 100% successful. But if the goal was to increase tourism, I think it is a win for the diminutive nation. Instagram has tons of photos from curious travellers who seem to have been in Skopje to gawk at the weird, big statues. And part of the reason I wanted to visit was to seek the spectacle.

But there is more to Skopje than that. I really liked the area around the hammam, the Old Bazaar area, which was a pedestrian area of gently curving streets of one to two story buildings with rows of shops and some attractive neighbourhood cafes. It has a pleasant feel, even if I did get the sense that the majority of the people there were tourists.

Andi, Skerdi, and I enjoyed a coffee (and I had a small cigar) and then the three of us went for dinner in an old house serving traditional Macedonian food.

Dinner was good and it was a nice end to a great day.

Kosovo…sort of

Except it wasn’t quite the end. We still had the long drive back to Tirana, but (bonus!) we drove back through Kosovo! We went through border patrol and my passport was stamped and everything. I was delighted to be in a new country.

Did I see much of Kosovo? No. I still would like to visit Pristina and I am not writing it off as ‘done’, but I am counting it. We stopped, fueled the car, bought drinks and a bite to eat. It’s something. (I’ve been back and forth with myself on this, but I’ve decided I am counting it – and I will return.)

By the time I got back to the hostel, it was late. I think it was a 14 hour day, but well worth it. The Balkans area great in several regards, not the least of which is that the counties are tiny and crammed in together. The fact that you can visit three countries in a day is astounding. If I drove for 14 hours in Canada, I would still be in Canada.

I went to sleep as soon as possible. I had only one full day left in Tirana and I had a lot of ground to cover.

Albania Europe Iraqi Kurdistan/Albania trip 2022

Albanian Arrival

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tag: church

Latvia for a long weekend in May

Layover in Munich

The Plan

Arrival in Valletta

Valletta Day Two

Reflections

Prologue

Arriving in Antigua

Sunday Sightseeing

Work Week

Café Culture

Reflections

Moving on

Roadtrip!

Just a bit of History

Ohrid, North Macedonia

Skopje, North Macedonia

Kosovo…sort of