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Asia Mongolia-Kuwait-Bahrain trip 2025 South Korea

Hello Kitty to the Rescue: A Layover in Seoul

I don’t know why, but in the last few years my travel planning has become a little bit more chaotic. I used to book my trips many months in advance, and I would spend time refining the itineraries and learning phrases in the local language and getting organized. But more recently I find myself booking the trips with just a few weeks’ notice. I still make a good itinerary, but it all feels a little rushed. I don’t think I can conceive months in advance of actually being able to take time off work, but then something happens and I just need a holiday and then I book it without much planning. This was one of those trips.

I had decided that I needed to go somewhere, and I decided to go to Mongolia. But I didn’t just want to go to Mongolia, I wanted to try to visit a couple of other countries. And that’s what I tried to do on this trip. I decided to go to Mongolia and Kuwait and Bahrain. I’m aware that Mongolia is nowhere near Kuwait and Bahrain, but it made for an interesting itinerary. And it started with an overnight layover in Seoul South Korea.

This was my third or fourth time visiting Seoul, although each of those visits has been on some sort of long layover. I’ve never actually taken a trip just to see South Korea. I probably should, but this would be another layover visit.

I don’t love Seoul. I know that Seoul is very popular but, overall, I am not enamoured with it. It does make for a good layover though. I appreciate its excellent public transportation and its affordable accommodations, and that there’s lots going on day and night to fill your time. As much as I don’t love it, I was happy to be back for my layover this time.

*Arex: the fast train into the city. Of course it has a cute mascot.*

I arrived at 4:00 PM and I would have to leave again at 9:00 in the morning, so I just had an evening. I booked myself into the Hostel Drip & Drop, which is conveniently located in Myeongdong and right by the Euljiro 1(il)-ga metro station. I took the AREX Express train (which is only slightly faster than the other train) into the city with my backpack and walked to the hostel and dropped it off.

Before I say anything else, I have to say how impressed I was with this hostel. I have fantasies of designing the perfect hostel because there are so many of them that just have design flaws, like having no lighting options between pitch black and blinding white or showers in shared bathrooms with no place to take off your clothes or hang them up outside of the soaking wet shower. This hostel was close to perfect.

It had an immaculate sleeping quarter. I opted for the girls’ dorm and it was one of those ones where every bed is a pod with a proper curtain, a shelf, lighting, and a comfy mattress inside. For the first time ever, I had a little bunk with a window in it. This hostel also had an adjoining room where there were lockers to put your backpack and your shoes, so you would take off your shoes and get your pyjamas, or do whatever you needed to do, and then you could either go into the room with the beds or into the shared bathroom. What this meant was there was no possibility of anybody in the sleeping room rummaging around in their bags, or getting dressed, or crinkling plastic bags because all of that happened in another room. I’m sorry if you’re not here to hear about effective hostile design, but I was very excited by this. And it was $56 Canadian per night. Not exactly dirt cheap, but pretty close.

I don’t know why it’s called Drip & Drop except that it has something to do with coffee and they do provide you with a coffee pour-over situation and they had a pour-over station in the common area. I mean, that’s pretty great. The downsides were no kitchen, and the common area was very sterile and didn’t really invite one to hang around, but that’s OK; I wasn’t there for long. I would 1000% stay there again.

Once I was finished admiring my hostel, I set out into the city. I decided to wander along the Cheonggyecheon, which is sort of a man-made urban river that runs through the city lined with pedestrian and bike friendly spaces with benches and sculptures. It’s a really wonderful use of public space and provides some serenity into what a busy city is otherwise.

I meandered around taking exploring the streets. There appeared to be some sort of festival happening geared towards children and there were a lot of inflatable things and children’s activities. I have no idea what was going on but it did make for some fun photos. It was blisteringly hot in Seoul, so, to cool off, I lingered by the fans set up outside next to some inflatable children’s water park set up for the event, until I realized that a single adult lingering near strange children is creepy.

I wanted to visit a cigar lounge before it got too late (and I needed an escape from the weather) and so I went to the Resolver Cigar Lounge. It was walking distance from my hostel in a commercial building. The lounge was a little bit difficult to find and I nearly gave up and left but finally I found it and it was worth the effort as it was a beautiful lounge. Dimly lit with comfortable leather chairs, excellent cigar accessories, and a sophisticated atmosphere. I visited the humidor and picked out a Plasencia Alma Fuerte – a cigar made at the Plasencia factory I had previously visited in Nicaragua. They had a decent selection of Cubans and some non-Cubans but the prices were very high, and this was the cigar that I decided best fit my budget and palate. The only downside of the lounge, if there was one, was that it was very quiet. There were a couple of other groups of men smoking cigars, but it didn’t have a very social atmosphere. I’ve noticed this a lot with cigar lounges in East Asia which is that people don’t really seem that inclined to talk to each other. Everyone seems to kind of keep to themselves.

By the time I left the lounge it was dark, but that did nothing to reduce the heat and humidity. Sweating profusely, I walked back to the area near my hostel to visit the Myeongdong Night Market. I was delighted to have a night market to go to. At first, it was terrific to walk around the area with the market. The neon signs were twinkling, throngs of people were out gawking at the stalls and eating things on sticks and there was food and merchandise for sale throughout the streets. It was a fun atmosphere. Except now not only was it hot, but it was hot and I was walking past stalls frying up food and producing clouds of hot greasy air.

I quickly became very uncomfortable. I also desperately wanted to eat something but, as is always the problem with night markets in Asia in my experience, it’s very difficult to find anything vegetarian; plus, I had forgotten to get cash from the ATM. After a while I just needed some air conditioning and relief from the weather and that’s when I saw it, like a beacon calling to me. My savior. Hello Kitty.

I love Hello Kitty and I’ve been wanting to go to a themed cafe forever. And there it was: a two-story Hello Kitty café, open late and artificially ice cold. While I was thankful for the air conditioning, I will say that the interior of the Hello Kitty cafe was so brightly lit that I felt like I was in some sort of alien spacecraft, but I was happy for it. I bought two food items that I’ve never had before and will certainly never have again which was a dragon fruit iced tea and a mango cake that was shaped like an actual mango inside a hard shell. It was delicious; or maybe I was just hot and famished. I sat by the window by myself, my eyes ringed in smudgy black eyeliner; I was looking goth-adjacent smelling of cigar smoke and thoroughly enjoying my Hello Kitty meal.

After that, I took one last spin around the market and then went back to my hostel for a shower and asleep. In a few short hours I would be up again and heading back to the airport to fly to my next destination: Ulaanbaatar.

*Temple at sunrise. Headed back to the airport*

Asia Yemen Yemen Trip 2025

Yemen – Shibam and Departures

We awoke on this, our last full day, at our beautiful hotel in the valley. The previous day had been our excellent visit to the villages of Wadi Doan. The routine was well established at this point: I woke up, had my cigar, and watched the sunrise, followed by breakfast with the group before we set off on our next excursion.

Today, we would be heading to Shibam. As I’ve said in earlier posts, this was the thing that I most wanted to see. This was the picture that I had seen on the internet years ago, making me think, “Someday, I must see this place.” And that day was today.

The Old Walled City of Shibam is one of the highlights of a trip to South Yemen. The town was founded in the 3rd century, but the buildings that you see today were built in the 1500s. The structures are made entirely of mud brick and stand between 5 and 11 stories tall. They are narrow and built close together. Apparently, this particular design was meant to protect them from Bedouin attacks, but whatever the reason, it looks unusual and beautiful. Amazingly, the buildings remain strong and resilient. While they need regular, fresh applications of mud to the exterior, they have lasted all these centuries. The tallest ones are just over 30 metres high. It is the look of these closely clustered tall buildings that has given Shibam nicknames like “The Manhattan of the Desert” and “the World’s First Skyscraper City.”

Seeing it from a distance the night before was magical, but walking amongst the buildings was equally special. People actually live and work here. We saw pharmacies and honey vendors, little shops selling antiquities, and, of course, men sitting around smoking and drinking coffee. Sometimes, seeing things that you’ve been dreaming of can be a disappointment. This was not one of those times.

From Shibam, we drove back to Seiyoun, where we had started our journey; however, we hadn’t seen much of the city at the beginning. This time, we visited a museum in the market. I was delighted to explore the marketplace, finally try some Yemeni coffee, and browse through the little shops. I picked up some small bottles of oud as a souvenir. We sat around a café with our guide and driver, and I thought again about how much I wished I could just explore a little bit on my own. I could have spent all day sitting at a café, smoking and watching the people go about their daily activities.

We went to a specific spot near the market where they made jambiyas. A jambiya is a large, curved dagger that Yemeni men wear as part of their traditional ensemble, tucked into a thick, embroidered belt and worn on top of their futa. John and Doc had not gotten their jambiyas when they first bought their Yemeni clothing, but now they would. The craftsmen at the shop picked out the right jambiya for each of them and hammered holes into custom-fitted belts so that John and Doc could wear them with pride — right up until they had to go through airport security, I guess.

I bided my time at one of the nearby gun shops. This is another moment where I must emphasize that my trip to Yemen felt completely safe, and that the people were extraordinarily nice and hospitable, but there is a tremendous amount of guns. This little shop, which was no bigger than a single parking stall, sold an astonishing assortment of handguns, machine guns, and rifles. They even let us handle and pose with them—without any ammunition, of course. I couldn’t resist posing for a few photos. I had mixed feelings about sharing these pictures online, but I think I’ve been clear that Yemen is not a scary or dangerous country. I just really like this picture of myself with the machine gun. I’m not someone who does online dating, but if I did, I think this would be a fun picture to use in my profile.

Next, we made a specific visit to the honey market, where rows and rows of small shops sold an incredible variety of locally produced honey. Yemenis are very proud of their honey, and we had been eating it every day, but I had no idea there was such a wide variety. We got to sample different types and were told about how different varieties of honey were good for various ailments. Each of the three of us picked up a tiny little bottle of the most expensive honey (sidr) to take home. It was thick, a dark amber colour, and very strong-tasting. I think it was about $5 USD.

But there was still more sightseeing to do. We drove to the nearby city of Tarim, walked the streets, and took in the Al-Mihdar Mosque and some Sufi shrines.

We returned to the Hawta Palace Hotel (the place where we had stayed on our first night in Yemen) for our final night. We were called to dinner and told there would be a special surprise. A group of men arrived and set up for us just before we ate. There were about 8 men dancing and another 10 men playing musical instruments and singing as they put on a performance. It was wonderful, although admittedly, I was trying to juggle a bit of remote work during the show. My companions, John and Doc, were called up to dance with the performers. John tried to call me up as well, but it was very quickly made apparent to me that this was a men-only situation. No problem. I sat outside with my cigar and just watched the show. It was a terrific end to an incredible trip.

The next day was the day of our departure. We got up, had a leisurely breakfast, and went into the city to walk around the market a bit more. We even went to a sort of Western-style coffee shop for iced mochas and lattes. These fancy coffees were not included in the trip budget, and I think this brought the total amount that I spent on the entire trip to about $30 USD—not including the tips that we gave to our guide and driver, of course. I had no idea how much spending money I would need and had brought a lot more with me; it is always better to be safe than sorry. If you are bringing money to Yemen (and you should) make sure that it is crisp, new US bills. They won’t accept anything with any imperfections.

At the airport, we said our goodbyes to our guide and driver and headed through security. There was little to no fanfare or hassle at immigration. Once we were through, we found a little seating area with a café, and we spent the last of our local money on snacks. I realized at this point that I was no longer really in the country and no longer had to wear my abaya. I had thought earlier in the trip that I might bring it home with me, but after six days of wearing it in the heat, it was crusted with sweat and dirt. I was completely sick of it, so I took it off and left it behind.

We boarded the plane and said goodbye to Yemen. It was an amazing trip. While I wouldn’t visit those same sites again (simply because I think we did them justice) I would be happy to go back to the country if the northern part ever reopens to tourism, as I would love to see the capital, Sana’a.

We shared a quick overnight layover in Cairo before John, Doc, and I went our separate ways. Next was a short layover in Cairo where we spent the night and I got interrogated at the airport.

A few more pictures from that final day in Yemen.

*i accidentally snapped a photo of the most handsome man in Yemen*

Asia Yemen Yemen Trip 2025

Yemen – village life in Wadi Doan

On our third day in Yemen, we awoke at the hotel in Mukalla, and after a morning cigar and breakfast, we were back on the road. This would turn out to be both the best and most trying day of the trip so far. We drove to our next accommodation, the Haid Al-Jazil Hotel. It sits pretty much in the middle of nowhere—but what an incredible nowhere! Approaching the property, it simply appeared to be sitting isolated in the middle of a dry desert plain. The hotel itself consists of a series of landscape-appropriate bungalows alongside a main building housing the reception and dining area. However, stepping just past those bungalows revealed the most extraordinary view.

Before us lay a massive desert valley with a thin ribbon of green slicing through the bottom, marking where water flows at certain times of the year. Rising up from the middle of this valley was a large, round plateau topped by a tiny town. A compact cluster of mud-brick buildings sat perched high atop this rock, isolated in the heart of a desolate landscape. It was one of the most remarkable sights I have ever seen, and our accommodations offered a front-row seat.

This was Wafi Doan (aka Wadi Dawan). A wadi is a desert valley, and Wadi Doan cuts through the larger Wadi Hadhramaut region. It is globally famous for its distinct architecture and premium honey production. Looking down from the hotel’s vantage point, I could see tiny people leading tiny creatures along the valley floor. I suppose they were actually regular-sized people leading regular-sized animals, but from that immense height, they looked like miniatures. It was simply amazing.

After taking in the view, we got back on the road to visit some of the local villages. We hiked down into the wadi, but after that point, I get a little confused about the exact order of the places we saw. Trying to piece it together later by looking at my photos and searching online didn’t make it any clearer. I know that on this day we descended into the valley and visited Ribat, Qarhat Ba Humaish, Qarn Majid, Al-Hajjarain, and Sif, but distinguishing between them in memory is difficult because they sit relatively close together.

We began with the descent, which was probably the only low point of the entire holiday. The plan was to hike down to the valley floor to visit that charming village on the rock. No problem, right? I was told it would take about 90 minutes going downhill. I love hiking, so I wasn’t initially concerned. Where it became an issue was the dress code; while the guys were exempted from wearing traditional clothing for the hike and could wear shorts, I was still required to wear my abaya.

As a result, I was hiking through an exposed desert landscape with absolutely no tree cover while wearing leggings, a t-shirt, socks, heavy boots, a thick fabric abaya, and a hijab. I don’t know exactly how hot it was, but I would estimate it was well over 40°C. I overheated very quickly, and the climate took a massive toll on me. Furthermore, while the hike wasn’t overly technical, the terrain was covered in loose rocks. I had to be incredibly cautious about my footing to avoid twisting an ankle. Perhaps other people wouldn’t be so worried, but I have a historical habit of falling off mountains, so I was trying to be careful.

On the way down, I just grew hotter and hotter. My abaya kept catching on thorny bushes, which was incredibly frustrating. The closer I got to the bottom, the more lightheaded I became, to the point where I actually collapsed a few times. Frankly, it felt humiliating. Despite that, the views were beautiful, and descending into the valley remained exciting. When we finally reached the bottom, I allowed myself to collapse onto the stones to drink some water before we walked into the village.

The village itself was incredibly charming: dirt roads lined with three-story mud-brick structures, and small market areas where locals hung out in the shade of palm trees. It felt like a true oasis, even though I didn’t see any actual water. We walked through the paths, stopping to admire the goats and the fruits and vegetables for sale. There was a little open-air, covered structure where a group of men had gathered to play dominoes. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to see us, and a few people even asked us to take their pictures. It was astonishing.

There are not many places left in the world where you can travel and feel like you are truly somewhere different—where there is no mobile phone service, no recognizable Western businesses, and people do not dress the way they do back home. As much as globalization is likely beneficial for the world overall, it does chip away at these unique pockets of cultural experience. But here, at the bottom of a valley within a valley in Yemen, it felt entirely distinct.

Our driver met us at the bottom, picked us up, and drove us through the various towns and villages I mentioned earlier, stopping so we could explore points of interest. We saw small palaces clinging inexplicably to sheer rock faces, brightly coloured buildings, beautifully carved wooden doorways, and winding paths through mud-brick neighborhoods where children peered down at us from windows. Everything we saw was beautiful.

One site of historical significance we visited was the ancestral Bin Laden family home. I don’t think it is a house Osama ever lived in, but it belonged to his father. We couldn’t go inside, but we looked at the exterior and took a few photos. While we were there, a young boy rode by on a motorbike and stopped to gawk at us. John asked him if he could try riding the bike, and the kid nodded. It is not clear if he actually understood the request, because when John took off down the road—going maybe 50 feet—the kid panicked and ran after him yelling, thinking he was being robbed! Thankfully, the misunderstanding was quickly resolved, and everyone had a good chuckle.

Driving between the villages, we occasionally spotted women minding livestock. While the task itself is common, their outfits were extraordinary. These women wore full black abayas, niqabs, hijabs, and what appeared to be gloves. I didn’t find the coverage unusual, since I also prefer to stay covered up in intense sun, but their hats were completely eye-catching. They wore comically tall, peaked, brimmed hats that looked exactly like witches’ hats, except they were straw-coloured. Some had the very peak and the band around the brim painted black or red. We passed them too quickly to get a clear photo, though we tried.

The hat is called a madhalla. They are woven from date palm leaves and can stand up to two feet tall. Apparently, the extreme height is designed to keep the wearer’s head cool by creating an insulating pocket of air. I have no idea how the women balance them so effortlessly while navigating that rugged terrain and tending to goats, but it looked incredibly stylish.

Walking through the villages, we also noticed a number of locals carrying firearms. We were already somewhat accustomed to this, as our tour group traveled with a guide, a driver, and an armed guard. Our driver carried a semi-automatic handgun, while our guard carried an older automatic rifle. Because a few days had passed and we felt more comfortable, we finally asked if we could take pictures with our guard and his weapon. I understand that people in Yemen do not want their country portrayed as a scary, gun-crazed society; it isn’t. That is America. Our guard carried his weapon strictly for our protection. I am not certain we actually needed protecting from anything, but if it provides a job to someone in an economy where employment is scarce, I am all for it.

Our last stop of the day was another village whose name escapes me. We drove to the end of a road and sat on a rocky outcropping looking out over the valley, and there before us was the skyline of Shibam. Shibam was the city I was most excited to visit on this trip. Because we were scheduled to tour it the next day, I will save my full description for the next entry. However, looking out over that cluster of tall, narrow, ancient mud buildings in the middle of the valley, washed in the warm glow of the setting sun, was a truly special experience.

In the early evening, we returned to our beautiful hotel with its commanding view of the valley we had just explored. We had dinner, and I sat outside at leisure, enjoying my cigars and watching the landscape until the view completely dissolved into the blackness of the night.

At one point, while I was relaxing at the hotel in my regular Western clothes, four young girls approached me. One of them spoke a little bit of English. They were fully dressed in abayas, niqabs, and hijabs, so I couldn’t see their faces. They walked up to me, said hello, and giggled. They asked me where I was from, and giggled. They asked if I liked their country, and giggled some more. I asked them a few questions about themselves, and they kept giggling. Eventually, they asked to take a photo with me. I agreed, on the condition that I could also take one with them on my own phone. Finally, twittering with excitement, they all flipped up their niqabs to show me their faces, smiled warmly at me, dropped the veils back down, and ran away giggling.

It was a wonderful interaction. I suppose they don’t see many foreign women. I thought it was incredibly neat that they felt it was appropriate to show me their faces. Personally, I am all for people wearing whatever they choose to wear, but I struggle with the idea of anyone being forced to wear certain attire because a government, culture, or religion dictates it. Even that is complicated; if your religion prescribes a dress code, and you love your faith and genuinely want to follow it, then there is nothing oppressive about that choice. Still, I certainly have mixed feelings about societal systems that imply women must be covered up. I don’t know what the exact situation was for these girls, but I was simply happy to have met them.

This was by far the best day of the trip so far. While the first two days were great, today was truly amazing. By this point, all the money we spent and the bureaucratic hoops we had to jump through to get here felt completely worth it. The next day, we would finally visit the ultimate highlight of the trip: the ancient city of Shibam.

Asia Yemen Yemen Trip 2025

Yemen – Mukalla

After a short sleep at the Hawta Palace Hotel in Seiyun, Yemen after our arrival, I awoke buzzing with excitement. We had just arrived the night before, but apart from buying our clothes at the local market, we hadn’t seen or done anything yet. I couldn’t wait for what the day had in store. I got up early and took a walk around the grounds. Because it had been dark when we arrived the previous evening, this was the first time I saw the light hitting the mountains and the flowers on the trees. It was like a beautiful oasis. I had a morning cigar and drank coffee while I waited for John and Doc to join me.

Our guide and driver arrived, and we drove to Mukalla, the main city of the Hadhramaut region on the Gulf of Aden. This was our first real glimpse of Yemen, and it made a great first impression. The city was bustling. It lacked the chaotic crowds of major cities in India or Africa, but it was still incredibly lively. People were going to and from the markets and shops, and children were out in the streets playing football and pool.

Most people looked at us with some degree of curiosity, but no one gave us the kinds of glances I’ve experienced in other cities—where people look at you with disdain or subtle hostility. Everyone we interacted with seemed friendly. Of course, those people were strictly men and children. There were women out on the streets, but they were entirely covered, including their faces, and they did not greet or acknowledge us. The men were friendly and the children were curious. John and Doc kicked a football around with the kids in an alleyway while I took some pictures and watched goats wander between the buildings.

The liveliest part of the city was along the waterfront. A river ran through the city, and it was filled with people on boats flying flags high and playing music. Yemen has two flags: one for the South and one for the North. The people here were flying the Southern flag. Additionally, some people and children were carrying pictures of figures I understood to be leaders or notable political and military figures of Southern Yemen. You know how kids love to carry around pictures of famous politicians and military figures? Maybe it’s a Yemeni thing.

The political history of Yemen is far too complicated for me to explain here. Go read a book. In short, though, Yemen used to be part of the Ottoman Empire. In 1918, the region became independent but was split into two halves: North Yemen was an independent state, while South Yemen became a British protectorate and, later, a British colony. The UK left in 1967. The two halves were briefly unified, but a series of wars broke out between them until 1990, when the People’s Democratic Republic of Yemen (South Yemen) and the Yemen Arab Republic (North Yemen) officially united to form the Republic of Yemen.

Unfortunately, the fighting has not stopped. The region operates, effectively, as two separate countries: the North and West are controlled by the Houthis, while the South and East are held by the Presidential Leadership Council (PLC) and southern factions. Skirmishes and bombings are ongoing, mostly concentrated in the northwest. All of this fighting has created extreme poverty and food insecurity across the country, a crisis compounded by the fact that most Western nations maintain strict sanctions against Yemen.

The view from the harbour was absolutely beautiful, with whitewashed, boxy buildings clustered together along the shore. The water shifted between different shades of turquoise, and everything was framed by the dry desert mountains. It was the sort of place I wished I could have wandered around on my own. It certainly felt safe enough to do so, but that is simply not how things are done there, so we stuck close to our guide as he led us through the city markets before we stopped for lunch.

The restaurant we went to (I don’t know the name, but it was a place we would visit more than once on this trip) seated us in a private room separated by a curtain. We sat shoeless on layers of carpets. In the middle of the floor was a blanket layout holding all the plates of food, which we ate largely with our hands. The thing that always amused me about these meals was that it wasn’t just shoes lined up by the door; various handguns and weapons were also set aside on the carpet just long enough for everyone to eat. Shoes off, guns down. Time to eat.

After lunch, we visited a fruit, vegetable, and fish market, which is always delightful. I don’t know what it is about seeing food sold in other countries, but it never ceases to amaze me. Mangoes stacked up in slightly different ways than they are back home? Fascinating! Truthfully, it is just interesting to see how different people go about their daily lives, and a local market is a great way to experience that.

[Update December 2025: Mukalla was such a pleasant city to visit and seemed so safe, but in late December of 2025, the port was bombed by Saudi forces targeting unauthorized weapon shipments. It serves as a stark reminder that things can seem safe—and may actually be safe for a period of time—but in volatile parts of the world, realities can change instantly. In short: go when you can, because you never know when a window will close.]

Later in the afternoon, just before sunset, we made our way to a new accommodation: the Ramada Mukalla Hotel. It felt more like a standard western hotel compared to our last stop. My room was adequate, and the property featured a massive lobby cafe where the staff had no issue with me smoking cigars indoors. I did quite a bit of that during our down times.

One of the things I quickly realized on a tour like this is that you have quite a bit of down time. The mornings start a little late, the evenings wrap up a little early, and there is always time for a rest in the afternoon; plus, there is a lot of eating. It was a bit too much food for my liking, but I certainly can’t complain about being well taken care of.

It was a perfectly pleasant day visiting Mukalla, followed by a quiet evening at the hotel. The next day, we would head toward even better sights as we left the city and ascended into the valley to experience village life.

Africa Egypt Eritrea-Djibouti trip 2024

Return to Cairo

I planned a trip to Eritrea and Djibouti. On the way there I would have a 24-hour or so layover in Cairo. I was delighted. I hadn’t been to Cairo since 1995. Even more excited because when asked what my favourite country is, a question that is impossible to answer, my standard response is Egypt. I loved Egypt I travelled from to Cairo, Aswan, Suez, Sharm El-Sheikh, and Dahab in ‘95. I loved everything that I saw and did. So I was thrilled to be going back, even if just for a short visit.

(Right about here, I would normally provide a link back to the previous posts that I had done about my past trip to Egypt. But I was there in 1995. This was before blogs and international ATMs, digital cameras, Google maps, text messages and GPS. I think that is part of the reason that Egypt is one of my favourite trips ever, because it was all done solo and without all these modern day conveniences. I really had to figure it out as I went. And it was an amazing adventure.)

*Flashback to me in 1995 heading out on my first solo trip to Israel & Egypt*

Returning to 2024, Egypt and Canada were having some sort of a row, so they had done away, temporarily, with the e-visa and visa-on-arrival systems and I had to spend nearly $300 CDN sending my passport away to the embassy for a more traditional visa. But I had it in place and was ready to breeze through immigration. Which I did.

Arrival and my Night in Cairo – Things go a bit wrong

I landed late. Hopped in a taxi and went to my hotel downtown. The Eileen Hotel. By the time I got to the hotel it was about 11:30 at night. I should have just gone to bed because I had a full day of sightseeing that I wanted to do, and I was already tired from having flown from Vancouver to London to Cairo, but as the taxi zipped through the city and I saw all the people out at cafes smoking shisha and lights on the buildings, I thought “I should go out for just a little while.” And so I did – and here’s where things started to go wrong, as they did repeatedly on this trip.

I didn’t have any Egyptian pounds. I had American dollars and some Euros. But since many things were closed I didn’t see a place to change money, so I went to an ATM. A proper ATM at a bank. I inserted my card, tried to take out money, and the machine would not return my card. It gave me an error message. And when it became apparent that my card was not coming out, I started to panic a bit. This was my only source of getting cash. Yes, I had cash on me, but I was going to two other countries that were primarily cash-based economies, and I needed that money to pay for things like hotels and tours and food. If I couldn’t get some extra cash, I was going to be in a bad way. Plus, I was tired and not thinking that well.

I waited in the ATM vestibule as person after person came in to use it and discovered it was out of service. I tried to ask for help but most of them didn’t know what I was talking about. Finally, the machine made a loud kerchunk sound and powered down and powered back up again. The next person that came in was able to use the machine no problem, at that point I knew my card was gone.

I was stressed, and I walked back to the hotel and told the guy at the desk what had happened. He said that I should go to the bank in the morning to try to get the card back, but in the meantime, he said, “I’m just getting off my shift why don’t we go out and smoke some shisha?” And he said he would pay.

The next thing I knew I was on the back of his tiny motorcycle flying through the streets of Cairo to the Khan el-Khalili area, where we went to a second-floor rooftop outdoor cafe, and before I knew it I had shisha and juice, and we were watching performers dance and twirl capes above their heads. It was good fun. And they took credit cards, so I paid for everything. (Not that it was much money.)

He dropped me off at the hotel. At this point it was about 2:30 in the morning and I really needed to get to sleep. My alarm was set to go off at 6:00 AM, as I had a lot to do the next day before I would leave for the airport. I fell asleep immediately.

I woke up not long after when the door to my small room flew open and there was a figure, a man, in the doorway. I didn’t even think. I’m not even sure if I was fully awake, I just jumped out of bed, shoved the guy back, and slammed the door in his face. I then opened the door, yelled “fuck you!” and then slammed the door in his face a second time. (I’m not sure that second door opening was really necessary, but I was angry.) I tried to go back to sleep but my heart was beating so fast, and my adrenaline was going, and it was a while before I could fall asleep again. I slept for maybe two hours total.

A New Day in Cairo

The next morning, the hotel apologized profusely and said they had made a mistake and thought the room was empty. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but nevertheless it was an upsetting disruption to my sleep. And that was the second thing that went wrong on this trip. Perhaps more importantly, this was my second night in a row I was not really sleeping.

After breakfast, I did as the hotel worker had suggested, and I went to the bank. His advice to me was to tell them about my card but not to remain calm. He said that I should appear panicked and that I should cry if I could and tell that I needed this card for my trip. I couldn’t bring myself to cry, but I did work myself up into a nice state of anxiety and told him the situation. After about half an hour I had my card back. So, the first problem was resolved thankfully.

With that done, I set out to explore Cairo. It would have been really nice to have visited the new museum but that was way too far away, over at the pyramids, and I didn’t want to spend that much time in traffic, so I just walked around downtown and went for some nice shisha and coffee, and went back to the Khan el-Khalili bazaar and wandered around there, having a cigar and a coffee, I visited a couple of mosques, and then went to the citadel for more mosques and a view over the city.

It was just a quick downtown sightseeing jaunt, but it was terrific. Cairo was wonderful. It didn’t feel quite as foreign and exotic is when I was there 29 years before. I suppose both I and the city have changed. But it had a good energy and lots of interesting things to see and do.

One thing that made it much easier is that rather than spending half my time haggling about taxi prices, I was able to cover long distances in an Uber. Some of the drivers will still try to negotiate a price with you in cash, but if you tell them that you were only paying through the app, that ends that conversation. It made things a lot easier.

Finally, after dinner, I went back to the airport, for a late-night flight to Asmara, Eritrea.

*views of Cairo and me at an outdoor shisha cafe*

Asia Vietnam Vietnam Laos trip 2024

Return to Ho Chi Minh City

I wanted to go to Laos. It was the second-to-last country in Southeast Asia that I had not visited (apart from East Timor), and it was sitting as on my map as a hole that needed to be filled; however, to get to Laos from Vancouver I would have to fly through somewhere else in Southeast Asia. I decided to fly through Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, a place I had been to before, but was happy to revisit.

I would only have a little bit more than 24 hours in Ho Chi Minh, but that was more than enough to soak up a bit of atmosphere and food since my last trip to Vietnam in 2013.

I flew direct Ho Chi Minh from Vancouver and landed late morning. Things had changed since I was last there; last time I had to send my passport away to the embassy in Ottawa to get a visa. This time, I had to only do an e-visa online, which was quick and painless. It was not painless in terms of the giant queues at the airport for people with their e-visas, but I paid a little bit extra to have somebody walk me to the front of the queue. When they first approached me about this, I thought it was a scam, but it was well worth it as it probably shaved about an hour off my airport time.

I took a taxi from the airport to my hotel. I was staying at Little Saigon Boutique Hotel. It was small and located in the interior of one of those dense city blocks in Ho Chi Minh where if you can penetrate the perimeter buildings to get to the centre of the block, there’s a reasonably pleasant network of alleyways, hidden coffee shops, residences, and small hotels. This place was great. It was walking distance to pretty much everything that I wanted to do, it had free Wi-Fi, comfortable beds, an astonishingly good free breakfast, and I had my own room and a private bathroom. It was about $50 CDN per night. There were cheaper options, but after such a long flight I didn’t want to bother with hostels or staying further out of the city centre. I thought this place was ideal and was a welcome change from the egregiously overpriced hostel dorms in Barcelona and Stockholm that I had experienced on my last trip abroad.

I had an agenda visiting Ho Chi Minh City this time. There were no touristy things that I hadn’t done that I felt like I needed to do, and while I wanted to casually revisit a couple of sites, the main thing was I wanted to check out was Ho Chi Minh’s cigar lounges. Last time I went to Ho Chi Minh I did smoke, however, I was traveling with my mother and I did not visit any cigar lounges. Since then I’ve heard tales of an opulent and impressive La Casa Del Habano in Ho Chi Minh and I wanted to check it out.

I left my small hotel and went for a bit of a walk around the neighbourhood, passing some familiar buildings and squares. The city felt a little bit different than I remembered it. My memories of Ho Chi Minh were of a city that felt very exotic and where the streets were so thick with humming scooters, that one could barely cross the street. It didn’t feel that way this time. I must acknowledge it in the last 12 years since I was there, I’ve been to many more places in the world and perhaps it just didn’t seem as different to me as it did before. However, it’s also possible that the city too has changed. In talking to some locals, they said that there are fewer motorcycles now and more cars and that the city is more affluent. Whatever the change, it felt good, if less exciting.

I stopped by the market for a bowl of vegetarian pho with some murderous chili peppers in it and it cost me a couple of dollars for this exquisite dish. I say murderous chili peppers because while I am someone who can usually eat and indefinite amount of extra hot chili peppers without any reaction, I put several of these raw chili peppers into my soup and when the liquid splashed on my face and hands, I felt like it was on fire.

I was walking around the city and looking for a place to grab a cup of coffee and found on my map a place on an upper floor of a tall building. I decided to go up. As I was walking up the stairs I passed on the second floor a cigar store and lounge called “Siqar Lounge”. I thought I’d done my research and pinned all the cigar stores on my maps but apparently, I had missed this one. It was small and secluded, but very stylishly decorated and had big old windows that opened up and allowed me to look out onto the street where I watched a couple of scantily clad girls engaging in a photo shoot. [2025 Update: this lounge is currently closed according to Google maps.]

I walked around a little more before finally deciding to have something else to eat. I’m not even sure if I was hungry, but it was so hot outside I just wanted to escape for a little bit. I went to a restaurant called Nhau Nhau; i just stumbled across it, but it was excellent. I had some kind of a small curry and a refreshing beverage that was both citrusy and gelatinous.

But I was on a mission, I headed to the La Casa Del Habano that I had heard so much about, but first, just around the corner I found another spot. Bakolan. A dark and romantic little cocktail bar that was virtually empty, and had cigar ashtrays on the table. I went in and had a cigar feeling incredibly sophisticated and relaxed. In doing some reading after the fact, apparently it is a “hostess bar”, but none of the young ladies gave me any attention.

Finally, I went to the La Casa Del Habano. La Casas are an international chain of cigar stores that are effectively all controlled by a cigar consortium in Cuba. Unless you happen to find yourself at an entirely counterfeit La Casa Del Habano, which I have encountered twice, in Colombia and in Iraq, La Casas are reliable for having excellent stock and good product and sophisticated lounges.

A friend of mine, Stripes, with whom I had visited Cuba for a cigar festival about 10 years prior, had recently visited this lounge and recommended it to me as one of the best he had ever visited. It was everything you’d expect a normal La Casa except it had extra touches. The walk-in humidor was two or three stories high, with cigars piled high in storage on the shelves accessible only by a tall library ladder. Once you bought your cigar and moved up to the second floor, which was a well-appointed cocktail lounge, you could look through the glass window and watch the tobacconists scurrying up and down the ladder, fetching boxes of cigars. I bought a Punch Double Corona and a vodka martini and sat there for about an hour or so relaxing. I will say that of all the things that were cheap in Vietnam, the cigars at this store were not it. This little venture cost me about $130.00 CDN for the cigar and the martini. It was worth it, but I wouldn’t make it a regular hangout. (On the upper floors of the La Casa that I did not visit there is a supper club with live music.)

I walked back to my hotel, which was only about a 5-minute walk away, and went to bed. The next day my flight was at 4:00pm and I wanted to leave myself enough time to get through the airport, so I really only had the morning. I went back to the market for some local, exotic fruits and wandered around the city.

I found three more cigar lounges or stores that I didn’t know anything about but due to the early hour both of them were closed. (The Saigon Cigar Club, Habanos Specialist, and the cigar lounge at the Rex Hotel – and these are just the ones near my hotel. There are so many more in Ho Chi Minh.)

I thoroughly enjoyed my walk around the city and thought that I would be happy to return, even if just for the food and cigars. But I was Laos bound on the 4:10pm flight to Vientiane.

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.

Europe Ukraine

Ukraine Night Train

The day after I visited Chernobyl, I spent another day in Kyiv. More churches, several art galleries, a market, and a terrific lunch at a Lebanese restaurant on the patio with a cigar. Nothing particularly notable, but it was a pleasant day.

There are lots of galleries in Kyiv, but I picked just a few two visit: the National Art Museum, the Kyiv Art Gallery, and the Pinchuk Art Centre The first was closed. The second I missed because I accidentally went to a different art gallery next door, the Khanenko Museum, which I also enjoyed. I didn’t realize the mistake until I left, but I was happy with what I saw. The Pinchuk is a free gallery of modern art, which I definitely recommend.

But the highlight of the day was in the evening, when I took an overnight train to Lviv. When I was originally planning to take this trip in 2020, I was going to book the cheap seats on the train, which would have given me a bed, along with 40 other people in an open car. I think that is the most fun and probably the safest way to do it, but with COVID, I thought I should secure a private sleeping arrangement. So I splurged on buying both bed in a two-bed car. I was very happy with this decision.

I had booked the train ahead of time online here https://booking.uz.gov.ua/en/ and printed my tickets from home. Super easy. The car wasn’t fancy but has nice linens and pillow and a place to charge electronics. I was delighted and took some silly selfies before drifting off to sleep to the clacking of the weeks.

I slept well and awoke in time to see the sun rise and to clean myself up before arriving in Lviv and going out to explore.

Africa Togo West Africa Trip 2019

The Gruesome Menagerie: The Fetish Market of Lomé

My first full day in Lomé I planned to go to the Akodessawa Fetish Market (aka the Marché aux Fetiches aka the Marché des Féticheurs) and, mission accomplished, I did go. The fetish market in the Akodessawa area of Lomé is, reportedly, the largest fetish market in the world. (For clarity’s sake, we are talking about a voodoo market selling items for rituals, not a marketplace of latex dresses and ball gags.) This was, in fact, the thing I was most looking forward to in Togo.

One of the main things that drew me to West Africa on this particular trip is that Togo and Benin are the birthplace of Voodoo (as it is known in the Americas) or Voudou, Vodun, or various other iterations (as it is known in Togo and Benin) – I’ll stick with the common American spelling. Today about half the population identifies as a practitioner of this spiritual practice, and, I am told, even many of those who identify as Muslim or Christian will still turn to Voodoo when they need help or protection.

There will be a lot of Voodoo references in the future blog posts for this particular trip. But on this day, I went to the Fetish Market in Lomé.

To get to the market from central Lomé, hail a moto from any street. It should cost 500-700 cfa (that’s around $1 cdn). You can ask the driver to wait for you and drive you back if your French is up to it. There is really nothing else to see right around the market, so having your driver wait might not be a bad idea. I didn’t want to feel rushed, so I sent mine away.

The market is not that big, but there is a lot to see. As far as I could tell, this is a legitimate fetish market. Locals were there shopping and seeing the Voodoo practitioners, but it also welcomes tourists. Tourists pay a fee of the equivalent of a few dollars, which includes a guide. You could go without the guide, but you really wouldn’t learn anything.

My guide was great. He explained to me that the dried creatures on display, with a few exceptions, were all to be sold and used in rituals or potions; often grounds up with plants or other natural items.

Ringing the market were displays of carefully laid out dead things: birds, snakes, chameleons, insects, monkeys, rodents, dogs, lions, apes, etc. Some were whole; most were merely heads.

In one area there were some freshly severed animal heads drying in the sun. (I’ll not post the picture of that.)

There were also some things they had on display only because they were old specimens of creatures that could no longer be legally killed, like a hippopotamus skull, a lion cub head, and a fully dried baboon).

Now, I love this kind of dark, gruesome stuff, so I was fascinated. However, I am not unaware of the fact that all of this is a collection of animals who were killed for spirituality (which, as an atheist, I give no practical merit to). That is a lot of senseless killing. And as a vegetarian, it does give me pause…but then I remember that people kill animals for all sorts of stupid, selfish reasons: for entertainment, for food, for fashion, for byproducts of the pet industry…its all morally reprehensible, but I am not above it as I still wear leather. So I left my judgment aside and indulged in my curiosity about this cultural and spiritual practice.

I did visit one of the Voodoo practitioners. He (through my guide) explained what many of the items were that he had in his tiny, dark hovel. I selected a couple of items and had them blessed (that’s not really the right word) for certain uses. One for luck. One for protection in travel. I don’t believe in it, but it was neat. I had to say and do some things and then the Voodoo man rang a bell and said some chants over the items as they lay in a calabash.

And I left, with my magic charms in tow (but without any severed heads) and feeling slightly more knowledgeable about Voodoo. I had not had my moto driver wait for me, but a guy from the market walked with me to the main road and stayed with me until we hailed a moto that agreed to take me back downtown (500cfa).

*Me at the fetish market with a chameleon and with one of the Voodoo practitioners*

There certainly is a tourist element to the market, but it is a real place for people without cameras and questions. And honestly, I am glad it does welcome tourists or it would have been rather difficult, if not impossible, to ask questions, poke around, and take pictures. It is certainly worth a visit.

The next day brought more voodoo with a day trip from Lome to Togoville.

Tag: market

Arrival and my Night in Cairo – Things go a bit wrong

A New Day in Cairo