cigar Archives - Page 7 of 22

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.

Central America / Caribbean Guatemala North America

Smoking Cigars in Antigua

Anyone who knows me or reads this blog with any regularity knows that i love smoking cigars. Pretty much daily whether at home or away. It’s just one of my favourite things. This means that when i travel anywhere, part of my travel planning is researching where I can smoke and if there are cigar lounges and stores. Antigua, Guatemala is an unusual place in this regard.

Guatemala is in the part of the world where tobacco is grown and cigars are rolled, but, unlike many of its neighbours, Guatemala doesn’t really have a cigar industry. Perhaps connected to that, smoking (at least in Antigua) is mostly not allowed. Smoking is not allowed indoors and not in any outdoor courtyard. (Harumph)

Antigua has all of these charming cafes and restaurants, but, due to the style of the buildings, the outdoor areas are all courtyards (super lovely ones), which means they are smoke free. It was a bit disappointing, however, i could smoke on the patio of my air bnb and no one complained when i smoked on benches in parks, – but there were even better options.

If you like cigars and are in Antigua, your home away from home will be Antigua Cigars. It is this perfect cigar store/lounge in the historic centre of Antigua. It has a small humidor with a limited selection of Cubans and a selection of excellent non-Cubans, including their great house brand and a wide array of Plasencia cigars, which I enjoyed.

Attached to the store is a small and inviting lounge with just the right decor and music and, best of all, great people. (I swear to god, they aren’t paying me; i was just so happy there.) The owners are lovely people, a husband and wife, from Canada, and they have lived in Antigua for years. Full of great stories and hospitality. The other clientele at the lounge were mostly expats/immigrants and every single one of them were delightful company. I went there maybe 4 or 5 times in my 8 days there and felt like I had friends.

*My arm is complete again, at Antigua Cigars*

The owners at Antigua Cigars also let me in on two places that allowed smoking: one is the rooftop patio of an Irish pub called The Snug. It has a casual and fun vibe and excellent views of the volcanos and no one had an issue with my cigars.

The other place is called something like Primavera and it is a restaurant maybe two blocks from Antigua Cigars. It has a romantic courtyard with a fire and fairy lights and cozy nooks. It also had excellent food. I went twice and ate and drank more than i needed so i could keep enjoying the ambiance, which also included live music.

There is another cigar store/lounge: Cigar Boutique and Lounge Antigua. It is just half a block down from the yellow arch towards the end of the street. It has a very well stocked humidor of Cuban cigars and a nice room of leather chairs. It didn’t seem to have a crown of regulars, but was a nice place to smoke. I’m not totally sure about the quality of the cigars though. I bought four there; two were excellent, and two smoked so badly i would have bet they were counterfeit (but maybe they were just duds), and on my second visit, i found a box in the humidor that had cigars riddled with beetle holes. So i don’t think i would buy a lot of cigars there, but i would still visit and buy a cigar and use then space.

*At the Cigar Boutique and Lounge near the Yellow Arch. That Bolivar was excellent.*

I also spied a lot of egregious counterfeit Cohibas at the local crafts market. Don’t be fooled.

I smoked an obscene amount of cigars in Antigua, even if it was not as open as i might have liked. And i brought back a couple bundles of the house brand cigars from Antigua Cigars, which I am still enjoying. But the best thing, as is often the case with cigar smoking, was not the cigars themselves, but the connections made while doing it.

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.

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A Tea House and a House of a Different Sort in Erbil

My third full day in Erbil bears no mention. I got a covid test at 7:30 am then returned to my hotel room and worked until 6:30pm. This was not planned but could not be avoided. I was especially thankful for the fact that that I had been upgraded to a big room and that I could smoke cigars in it. I killed a handful of the Romeo y Julietas I had bought at duty free. But that is not interesting. What is interesting is my fourth and final day in Erbil.

I had already seen most of the sights of Erbil, but I had a few more wanders and things planned for my final day.

I started with an early morning walk to the Jalil Khayat Mosque. One thing I had not done was seen inside any of the mosques in Erbil, and there are lots. Not getting a lot of tourists (or maybe because they don’t want tourists poking around) they don’t keep the mosques open outside of prayer time – and then at prayer time I was not allowed in. But I had seen pictures of the inside of the large and beautiful Jalil Khayat Mosque and had read that if you got there early you might be allowed in. So I walked there, which was pleasant. I arrived and the high gate around the mosque was locked. I saw a few men walking around inside of the gate and quite far from me, but was unable to persuade any of them, with my smiles and friendly waves, to let me inside. At least the outside was nice.

I wandered back to the citadel and the square and then into the bazaar to look for the Mam Khalil tea house, which everyone said was a ‘must visit’. Mam Khalil has died in recent years, but the tea house that he opened in the bazaar in 1963 lives on. It took some looking around the labyrinth of stalls and circular aisles, but it was worth the hunt (Even if en route a nice-looking man in a suit tried to use google translate to politely (?) ask me if I was interested in sex. I wasn’t. I was interested in tea.)

Mam Khalil’s teahouse is a charming den of curved roof nooks and tucked-away seats, with nearly every inch of the walls displaying framed pictures of family and friends, and visitors of all levels of notoriety. I had a couple cups of tea and smoked a bit while taking some sly pictures. (Pictures are clearly allowed but I still felt odd about it, as it was full of locals going about their day.)

Fueled by tea, I walked to the market, separate from the bazaar but nearby. This is where people are buying their food. Long rows of colorful fruits and vegetables, nuts, fish, and a display of meats, complete with severed animal heads on display. (My favourite, just because I love the gruesome nature of it.)

It was great for a wander. I was invited to sit with one man, who spoke no English, at his little stall selling bales of cigarette tobacco. He rolled me a cigarette and I felt obliged to accept (I don’t smoke cigarettes and never have. I am strictly cigars and, when in certain countries, shisha), but I didn’t want to be rude.

I finally found the money changers’ part of the market. It is something to see. A large aisle of men with piled of currency – foreign and Iraqi Dinars – trading. The neat thing is that there is zero security and the money is just sitting out in high piles. Sometimes a man will just wander off from his money table and leave it there unguarded. No one seems concerned. Plus a lot of the older notes still have the faces of fallen or ousted dictators. The thing is, they aren’t crazy about photos, which is why I don’t have any to share. It’s just as well. More fun to see it in person. I could post the gps co-ordinates to find it, but I’m not going to do that either. The search is half the fun of it.

I walked to Minara Park, which was not much to see, as it wasn’t quite spring, so it was fairly brown, but there is the Mudhafaria Minaret, built in the 1100s. Not all of it remains, but it is still tall and impressive.

Other parts of the park have some statues and hedge animals, but it just wasn’t the season for it and had a depressing feel. I bet it would be lovely in spring. Another reason to visit the park in better weather though is that there is this cool cable car lift that takes you from Minara Park to another park, passing over part of the city, but it was not running at this time of the year.

I went on a long aimless walk, which I enjoyed, but then it was late afternoon and I was ready for a rest. I took a taxi to La Casa Del Habano in the ‘Christian area’ of Erbil. La Casa Del Habano is the main Cuban cigar chain of stores and lounges selling cigars as authorized by the Cuban government. I was quite excited that there was one in Erbil…except there isn’t. I knew if from as soon as the taxi pulled up out front. It had the sign and the logo, but it was a little off. Poorly made. A slightly wrong shade of burgundy. Inside it was blatant. Selling alcohol and cheap goods. And the cigars were all counterfeit. Bad ones. (How I know this is 25 years of smoking and years working in cigar stores, writing for cigar publications etc.) It was not just the cigars that were knock offs; the whole store was. But I was there, so I took a shot and bought a cigar anyway. Sometimes a fake Cuban is still a decent cigar and sometimes it is banana leaves and floor sweepings. This was somewhere in between.

I sat on a sofa in the store, disappointedly puffing on a fake Partagas No. 2 when I started chatting to a local guy named Ali. We got to talking about various things. He told me about his family: his relationship with Islam, his wife, kids, and mistress. Somehow, he ended up telling me that in this neighbourhood there is a red-light district of sorts. I don’t know how this came up, but I was interested. He told me that in the Christian area there are brothels operating out of massage parlours, which sounded quite familiar. He said he doesn’t frequent the places for illicit purposes (uh huh), but that you can go there for shisha and tea as well. He invited me to join him. I know that sounds like a bad idea, but he seemed harmless and affable and there was no way I was going miss out on visiting an Iraqi brothel.

It was just on the next block, though he pointed out several others. The downstairs looked like a semi-legit massage place, but upstairs there was a bar (not sure if there was alcohol), a decorative swimming pool, and tables. At the tables were men smoking shisha and drinking tea. And there were women sitting and smoking shisha and then wandering around to meet the visitors. When a man met a woman he liked they disappeared for a time into one of the massage rooms, where the price was negotiated. It was all very similar to how these places work at home in Vancouver, including the price. (I won’t explain how I know that.) I talked with some of the women, most of whom spoke some English. On the day that I was there, most of them were from Lebanon, and I met one woman from Thailand. All pleasant and friendly and, thankfully, all of age.

I stayed there for about an hour, smoking shisha, watching the goings on and chatting with Ali and the women who worked there. It was a pleasant environment actually. I don’t know why I was surprised that there are ‘massage parlours’ in Iraqi Kurdistan, but I was and happy to see that, on the surface anyway, it seemed to be a place of legitimate business. (I know that you can never know what is going on behind the scenes, but that is true of workers in a variety of industries, especially for women and women from countries that are developing or in some form of strife.)

I want to be very clear that I am not recommending that people go hang out at a brothel in Erbil as part of their travel itinerary any more than I am recommending that one should visit a counterfeit La Casa Del Habano (I’m not). This is simply an account of what I did on a given day. I am also not making any declarations about whether these women have agency or are exploited or anything else. I have thoughts about it, but I’ll save that for a future blog: “Wandering North’s Feminist Think Pieces.”

I said goodbye to Ali and caught a taxi back to the centre where I had a cup of tea and yet more shisha at Matchko Tea House. I sat streetside and watched the nighttime goings on. A family sat next to me and insisted on sharing their cashews.

It was a great visit. There is certainly more to see in Iraqi Kurdistan, but four days and five nights was a long time for me and it was time to move on. To wander North, as it were, to Albania.

Asia Iraq Iraqi Kurdistan/Albania trip 2022

Citadel to Shisha: Exploring Erbil in Iraqi Kurdistan

I woke up early my second day in Erbil, in the Kurdistan region of Iraq. I had arrived the evening prior and, while I went out, I hadn’t seen much or seen anything in the light of day. But first, breakfast. I was pleased to see that the hotel buffet breakfast had returned during these pandemic times. Even better, it was a middle eastern buffet breakfast. There were tons of fruits, nuts, yogurt, local salty cheeses, lentil soup, foul, fluffy pita breads amongst other delights. Best of all, was the view from the breakfast room on the top floor of the Erbil View Hotel.

Sufficiently fuelled, I walked back to the Citadel in the centre of Erbil, where I had been the night before. In the daylight, my assessment was still that it is not a beautiful city; not even really a charming one, but there is a lot to like, not least of which is that it all seems entirely authentic. There is very little that seems geared towards tourists. I liked this about it.

The Citadel is a high mound in the middle of the city with various structures and buildings on it. Apparently it has been occupied as far back at 5,000 BCE. It is an impressive sight from the ground and walking up to the top gives you postcard perfect views of the square, but there isn’t much to see of the Citadel structures themselves. They are (and have been for several years) undergoing a UNESCO restoration and so for now, much of the site is off limits.

*View of the citadel behind a shisha café*

That said, there are still some interesting buildings to see and there is a Kurdish textile museum, which is one of the few museums in Erbil. It is small and interesting and the entrance fee is negligible. Plus, there is an unflattering and candid photo of Steven Segal pinned to the wall from when he visited.

I snapped a selfie against one of the hanging carpets and decided to don my sunglasses as my eyes were still a bit haggard looking from the long flight the day before, resulting in my own ridiculous photo.

*I take my Kurdish Textiles very seriously*

I walked around the square, which was full of local people sitting and strolling; vendors selling nuts and fruit, cigarettes and phone cards.

I walked to the Qaysari Bazaar, which is just at the foot of the citadel. Qaysari Is the Kurdish word for market, so it might be redundant to call it the Qaysari Bazaar (like saying chai tea), but I’m sticking with it because that what it was called on my map. The Qaysari Bazaar is a covered bazaar, just like a smaller version of the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul. It was established in the 13th century and was a delight to wander in. It has the usual, colourful stall selling fruits, sweets, tea, and clothing, but with some unusual twists. It also has a renowned tea shop, but I wouldn’t stumble onto that until day four.

Around the perimeter of the bazaar were money changers with blocks of foreign currency sitting in or on top of clear, plastic boxes. A lot of the Iraqi Dinars still had Saddam Hussein’s face on them, which was not surprising, but I still did a double take.

I stopped at a cute little coffee shop on the edge of the bazaar and ordered a Turkish coffee, which came served to me on a purple velvet cushion, covered with two gilded, metal domes, like Russian nesting dolls. It was so elaborate. It seemed like something made for tourists, for Instagram, but the other people in the shop were unenthusiastic local men smoking cigarettes and seemingly blasé about their pretty coffee service. I was delighted.

I walked around a lot more that day. A bit aimlessly, but then as I started to see all there was to see in the centre, I decided to walk to Dream City for a coffee and to visit a cigar shop.

Dream City is a new development a bit out of the city centre. It was a long walk, but it is walkable. I stopped for more Turkish coffee and a couple of baklava at Ashtar Sweets.

Dream City is gated and very much geared towards drivers. In most parts there were not even sidewalks. The homes were huge and garish (and, I found out later, very expensive, like $10M expensive); but they all really looked like nouveau riche “McMansions”.

If you want international food, or a sports bar, or a steakhouse, the area around Dream City is for you. They even have a “Central Perk” cafe that is themed after the TV show friends. Honestly, I hated the area and both the cigar shop and the book-themed café I went there to see had recently closed, but I was happy for the walk and it was interesting to see the newer, richer areas.

On the plus side, as I excited the Dream City gates and turned to walk back down a different street, I realized I was near another cigar shop: H&H Cigars. I was thrilled. It was a proper cigar shop and, despite it not having any Cubans, it had a great selection. I bought a My Father cigar and settled into one of the comfy leather wing backed chairs and smoked and read my book (Wuthering Heights – my second go at it and I still couldn’t get into it) until dark. It was heaven after all my walking.

I opted to take a taxi back, which was a bit of a hassle. There are beige taxis everywhere and they may or may not use meters. This one did, but the driver ‘got lost’ several times on his way back to the Citadel, which is literally the most famous and visible and easiest to find sites in the city. The fare was still very cheap but I was annoyed at being taken advantage of – not that I could express my irritation easily when I knew only about four words in Kurdish and he knew about the same in English.

I ate my dinner from the same street-side falafel cart as the previous night. The proprietor seemed to remember me, smiled, and refused to take any payment for my meal.

I stopped for some shisha at a hole-in-the-wall type of place where I attracted a bit of attention from the all male clientele, as they looked up from their backgammon, cards, dominos, and mahjong, but I contentedly puffed away, watching the smoke drift off into the night sky before walking back to my hotel.

I should say that each of the five nights I was in Erbil I stayed out reasonably late and was always by myself. It felt completely safe. Most of the streets were busy with people and even the ones that weren’t did not seem menacing. The whole city seemed completely safe. (Of course, as I am writing this it is about a month after the fact and missiles have landed in the city from Iran, so it is impossible to know what to expect I guess, but my experience was a great one and without worry.)

The next day I had a trip organized to Lalish and Akre.

Africa Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021 Senegal

A Final Day in Dakar

My final day in Dakar, Senegal was a good one. There is something nice about when you have done the things on your list for a city and then can just freely explore with no expectations and see where it takes you. That was my day. (Truthfully, I did spent about half of the next day in Dakar before flying out, but I didn’t do anything noteworthy.)

I went out before breakfast to get a covid test. It was cheap and relatively efficient, but I got to the clinic very early before there was a big queue.

Nose freshly swabbed, I had breakfast at the hotel and hit the market. I browsed around and haggled over some west African wax print fabric with the ‘speed bird’ print on it, which was destined to be cushion covers in my office back home. A lot of fabric prints have meanings in different countries in West Africa. The ‘speed bird’ print means various things in different countries, including ‘money comes and money goes’ or something like ‘when the hunter learns to shoot straight, the bird learns to fly without stopping’. That was fun. So many interesting patterns to browse through.

I also bought a painting. I haven’t been buying much in my travels recently. (My home décor is minimalist, and my office is already bursting with odds and ends from my travels.) But in Dakar they had these paintings that are done on the underside of glass and I thought they were quite unique, so I bought a portrait of a regal-looking, older African woman in orange clothes.

I decided I hadn’t had enough markets apparently, so I left the arts and crafts market and went headlong into the more local market, past the shops and stalls selling clothing, fabric, and household items, past the colorful buses, until the market became more of a labyrinth of tarps and tents, with outdoor cooking, and, well, really just a lot more poverty. I didn’t take pictures of that part of the market, because, while very interesting, I really stuck out and didn’t want to seem like a gawker.

Around the edge of that part of the market was the Dakar Grand Mosque, which is quite attractive and has a 67 m tall minaret. I might have been more taken with it, but it is very much in the style of the mosque I had just visited in Casablanca days earlier, but smaller, so appreciated was diminished a little.

From there I walked to the Musée des Civilisations Noires, which is a very modern museum (opened in 2018) designed to celebrate Africa’s contributions to the world. It is pretty great. There are some detailed displays on the origin of man and African technical and scientific achievements, but the best part was on the upper floors where there was an excellent mix of (primarily west) African traditional masks and works of art with modern art. It was so good. All they are lacking is a café.

After that I walked rather aimlessly, stopping for a bite to eat and a cigar at a rather posh Lebanese restaurant, and then discovered that there was a decently stocked Cuban cigar store just around the corner from my hotel. I was not out of cigars, but still picked up a few. (I can’t visit a cigar store and not get something.)

On my way back to the hotel for what I felt was a well-deserved nap, I say that there was a concert happening that night at the Institut Français. I bought a ticket. It was the Medicine Man Orchestra. The concert took place at a great outdoor stage – a proper stage and seating, but outside, under the stars with bats and birds overhead. The Medicine Man Orchestra was a little difficult to describe. On their website they say: “Medicine Man Orchestra (MMO) is a time adventure, swinging between ages, dimensions, cognitive or cartographic geographies. It is a show that takes you to the limits of multiple realities. Advanced audio-visual technologies provide the gift to carry you away as in West Africa, beside venerable griots, as in the fancy european clubs of avant-garde electronic music.” That is kind of apt, actually. There was electronic music, mixed with more traditional music, particularly percussion. There was dance. There were video projections of computer-created landscapes and designs. It was cool. And well attended.

I had a cigar and a juice at the café there and then headed back to my hotel. It was late – for me anyway. I had plans to go to bed. I was leaving the next day. On my way back though, I walked past a doorway that had excellent jazz pouring out. Live jazz. I paid cover charge of about $2 and went in. An unremarkable room, but with a jazz quartet playing, people, eating, drinking, and smoking. Everyone was a bit dressed up and having a good time. I stayed for a while and had a small cigar and a couple of virgin mojitos.

What else could you want for your last day? It was wonderful, and wrapping it up with a couple of spontaneous concerts was perfect. It was a great end to a great trip that took me to Mauritania and Senegal (two new to me countries) with short stays in Paris and Casablanca. I flew out, already day dreaming about where I would go next.

Tag: cigar