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Imagine going to sleep one night under the banner of one country, and waking up the next day living in an entirely different one. Sounds crazy, right? Well, not for the people of the Balkans. In fact, this scenario has played out dozens of times throughout their history; so much in fact that it has became a common occurrence.

After WWII, the nation of Yugoslavia (now present day Slovenia, Croatia, Montenegro, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serbia, Macedonia and Kosovo) came under the dictatorship of Josep Broz (better known as Tito). Fighting between all these rival groups halted under Tito’s term and Yugoslavia was even considered the most open of the communist republics by reaching a fairly high standard of living. Tito also sought neutrality in the two sided game of Cold War politics and made allies with both the USSR and USA. Life was good in the Balkan Peninsula for the next four decades.

Then, in 1980, Tito (the only entity gluing this fragile ethnic-religious mosaic together, died and Yugoslavia slowly began to deteriorate into a fiery blaze. In the early 1990s, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Serbia and Montenegro were all separated and at each other’s throats again. Then shit really hit the fan and Tito flipped three times in his grave.

(Bombed buildings, Pristina, Kosovo)

Slobadan Milosivic of Serbia began speaking of a greater Serbian nation, one that would incorporate Serbs from all surrounding republics into one big nation. Milosivic started moving into neighboring countries and even started the process of ethnic cleansing local Muslims to “make room” for the Serbs. Soon, full out war broke loose: Serbia vs. Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina.

(Bombed buildings in downtown Belgrade, Serbia)

The alliance of Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina didn’t last long, however. They eventually turned on eachother as well, creating a three way war between the Bosniak Muslims (who wanted to create a multi-ethnic/multi-religious union) the Croats (who wanted more land for a greater Croatia) and the Serbs (who were mass murdering innocent Muslims under Milosivic to make a sort of lebensraum for Serbia). The situation incinerated like a cigarette in gasoline, causing US President Bill Clinton to lead a NATO intervention on the side of the Bosniak Muslims.

(Bombed buildings in downtown Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina)

After much bombings and heavy fighting, by 1996 everything cooled down for the time being. The Bosniak Muslims with the help of NATO achieved their aim of a multi-ethnic/multi-religious country by having sizeable groups of Bosniak Muslims, Croat Catholics and Serbian Orthodox, forming the country of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Croatia, Macedonia and Slovenia were also then independent. Serbia and Montenegro and Kosovo at the time during 1997 were all united under the Serbian flag.

Things heated up again in 1999 when the predominately Muslim region of Kosovo tried breaking away from mother Serbia. Serbia intervened and war broke out again. With the help of the US and Bill Clinton to the rescue once again, Kosovo got independence… kind of (only half of the world’s countries see Kosovo as truly independent). Serbia obviously doesn’t recognize Kosovo and the two every few years seem to clash.

(More bombed buildings in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina)

Amazingly, in 2006, Serbia allowed Montenegro to have a referendum for independence. Montenegro voted “Yes,” and Serbia peacefully let them go, officially land-locking Serbia. It’s funny, why would Serbia put up such a fight for Kosovo, a region full of ethnic Albanians who are Muslim (meaning they’re very different from the Serbs), and let Montenegro, a place full of Orthodox Serbians (a place with obvious cultural and historic ties to Serbia), go with ease? Politics is a dirty game.

There’s a brief history of the Balkans for ya, but let me state that I have barley scratched the surface. There’s much more to this conflict than a few paragraphs scribbled down on this blog.

Anyway, I traveled to each of the former Yugoslavian nations to see how they were doing two decades after the conflict, and this is what I noted:

Slovenia

I had a unique time in Slovenia because I stayed at my friends’ house. Since they were locals, they showed me an entirely different side to the country and even took me snowboarding. Apart from that, it seems that Slovenia is doing the best out of the Balkans. The economy is booming and they’re the only country of Former Yugoslavia who uses the Euro. It also seemed to be a very clean, quaint, quiet, organized and enjoyable place to live in. The natural scenery is pristine and the architecture of down town Ljubljana tops European standards.

Croatia

Croatia seems to be doing the second best out of the Former Yugoslavia. Though they haven’t started using the Euro yet, it seems like that days is coming soon; especially with all the wealth that’s pouring in from it’s tourism industry on the Adriatic Coast. The Adriatic Coast is gorgeous and it attracts holiday sun bathers, rich businessmen with private yachts and party goers from around Europe during the summer months. Too bad it was below zero when I was there, a beach sounds mighty nice right now…

Bosnia and Herzegovina

Bosnia and Herzegovina, unlike Croatia, Slovenia and Macedonia, was the center of the wars of the 1990s. Many of their buildings were destroyed, best friends from highschool turned on eachother, the economy plummeted and the nation was almost wiped clean off the map of Europe like Prussia. Nonetheless, they survived and are kickin’ it like never before. The Bosnians are having a cultural renaissance while people eat and drink all night to celebrate the joy of just being alive. People from different religions and ethnicities are friends again, just like the good ole days.

(Above is a pic of the Mostar Old Bridge. The original one was hundreds of years old, but it was destroyed during the war. This is the renovated one. There’s a mountain of tradition here. A group of locals jump off this bridge to 1. save the name of tradition 2. make cash and 3. impress the ladies. Bridge jumpers are town idols and each one has a tattoo of the bridge and their name written in a special book. I met a bridge jumper one night and chatted with him about the proud bridge jumping heritage for a bit and the horrors of a gruesome war for the other bit. He’s one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met).

Serbia

Serbia’s capital Belgrade was the most important city and capital of Yugoslavia. Apart from being the economic hub and capital of new Serbia, it’s the largest city of the Balkans with over 2 million people and seen as kind of a regional cultural hub. Plus, Belgrade was rated by Lonely Planet as Europe’s number one party city of 2010. Like the Bosnians, the country suffered a lot from the war and suffered even more from Milosivic, the genocidal mad man. But they seem to have put the past behind them and are enjoying life to its fullest.

(I was in Belgrade the eve of January 7th, the same day the Orthodox celebrate Christmas! So, I got to celebrate Christmas twice this year! I met a group of Belgian guys and partied with them and the locals the entire night. Everyone was bar hopping and drinking warm, herbal red wine. After everyone got a strong buzz, they went to the church (shown here and in the below pic) to pray. After a good drunk prayer, they hit the streets again. Why can’t all Christmases be like this?).

Montenegro

The people of Montenegro are nearly exactly like the people from Serbia- Serb and Orthodox. Which makes me question, why did Serbia let a region with similar beliefs, race and history go with a referendum while they fought brutal wars with a tiny Albanian Muslim region known as Kosovo, one that has no cultural ties to Serbia. Apart from crazy politics, Montenegro is one of the most boring places I’ve ever been to. I hear that things pick up during the summer on the Adriatic shores, making it a kind of mini-Croatia, but that doesn’t help my opinion much. I stayed one day then bounced.

Kosovo

What’s up with all the US/Bill Clinton propaganda? I’ll get to that in a second. The region at the souther tip of Serbia has definitely got the blunt end of the stick. Serbia refuses to let it go and stomps its foot to recognize Kosovo’s independence. Saying that, only 50% of the world recognizes tiny Kosovo as an independent nation. Furthermore, every once in a while, Serbia and Kosovo skirmish. In fact, there was one 3 days after I left the country! It was a close one. But perhaps the most interesting thing about Kosovo is their passionate love for Americans. Yeah, I couldn’t believe it myself. Many countries have a strong anti-American sentiment, but Kosovo hasn’t forgot the help Bill Clinton provided them. In fact, the main street in Pristina is called Bill Clinton Ave and there’s a statue of him in the center of town. I told people I was American and was instantly bombarded like bombs over Belgrade with free food and discounts. I can get used to a country like this!

Note: Many say the US is raging a war against Muslims around the world. Let me remind you again, however, that the residents of Kosovo are predominately Muslim. So disconcerning whatever mess George W Bush has started, it just goes to show that not all American presidents and Americans have had anti-Muslim sentiments.

Macedonia

Macedonia is the quiet guy of the Balkans. It’s shy, the economy is puttering a long and it stayed clear of the major wars. Despite being a bit introverted, it gets the sash of “Miss Balkan” due to its incredible natural scenery. I guess nothing is always that easy though. While the Balkan nations were fighting it out, Macedonia was having its problems with Greece. Greece apparently got mad that this newly independent country was called Macedonia (the same name of a Greek Province where Alexander the Great’s from). Greece flipped out and forced poor Macedonia to change its name to the FYR Macedonia- The Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia! Again, politics is ridiculous sometimes…

Albania

This one came out of left field since I haven’t mentioned Albania all blog! And why should I? It was never part of Yugoslavia. Instead, while Tito was practicing a very open and tolerant form of Socialism, Albania’s Enver Hoxa introduced one of the world’s most radical branches of communism. The country was closed off from the rest of the world, military bunkers were constructed all around the country and Albania sunk into a hole of international isolationism. They didn’t want relations with anyone, not even the Soviets. Now, Albania is opening up very slowly like a heated clam shell. But despite the bleak rays of internationalism shining through, there’s still hardly any trace of Western influence, giving the country a very unique feel and culture that can’t be seen in too many other countries today. I really enjoy odd places like this one!

Leaving Georgia marked my grand push into Europe. I’d been living and traveling in the Orient for more than 2.5 years and have actually began to forget what defines Western culture. It was exciting to know I’d be weaving through the rough edges of Eastern Europe for the next two months and was anxious to cross the Bosporus pronto.

My first stop in Turkey was the northeastern city of Trabzon on the shores of the Black Sea. I arrived early in the morning giving me plenty of time to explore this off the beaten track town. By all means, it was cool seeing real Turkey, but my traveling force from within kept pushing me to the West. Then and there, while eating some free baklava at a cafe, I decided to go nonstop across all of Asia minor until I reached Europe. Instead of booking a hotel room that night in Trabzon, I stayed at the bus station waiting until the wee hours of dawn for the next westbound.

Next stop, Ankara, the capital of Turkey. Again I arrived extremely early, so I left my backpack in the bus terminal lockers and jumped on the metro to explore. I ended up in the center of town and took off on foot from there. As the sun grew higher into the clouds, I noticed a rally of protesters yelling forceful slogans and waving red and white signs. There wasn’t too much going on in town, so I followed them for a few hours to see what trouble they’d get into. It didn’t take long for the riot police to gather with transparent shields, guns and helmets. They also dispatched a few under cover cops who periodically gave their identity away by talking on a walky-talky.

In the end, no violence erupted preventing the state of Turkey from becoming another one of 2011′s numerous revolutionary countries. Still to this day I have no clue what they were protesting about, but I did see on the news that many were upset that France passed a law acknowledging the Ottoman genocide of Armenians. Who know knows if this was in fact the reason of their anger, but it seems like the most likely cause.

As the day before, I opted to pass on spending cash on a hotel room. I enjoyed saving the money and really didn’t mind living in the bus station for another night. You see some strange characters in international bus terminals in the early dawn (and I’m sure they were saying the same about me).

The next bus to Istanbul departed at night and I was well on my way to Europe. I was sure that the bus was going to drop me off on the Asian side of Istanbul (since the city is cut in half by the Bosporus Straight, leaving one side on Asia and the other on Europe),  and promised myself that I’d have a mini celebration upon stepping foot on Europe for the first time since 2008.

The bus parked at 5am in the morning. I jumped off to look at the map to see which metro would take me to the European side. After examining the map, I realized, lo-in-behold, I was already standing in Europe. I looked down at my feet and said, “Damn, so much for my celebration. Here I am! Goodbye Asia!”

I went to the edge of the Bosporus, bought a sandwich and watched the Ottoman sun rise from the East. Stray dogs roamed the alleys while seagulls scoured for crumbs. Bums traversed the walking paths with bags draped over their shoulders, business men rushed around with big coffees in their hands and cars ignited to clog the tight Constantinople streets.

My time in Istanbul was great. There are so many ancient sights like the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia (see pics below) to visit, the food is remarkable, remnants of the Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman empires outline the city, sky-scraping minarets from the thousands of mosques blast the call to prayer religiously five times a day and fisherman line the bridges to forever provide fresh seafood. The glorious Bosporus, separating two distinct continents, is always sparkling and busy with Goliath international cargo ships, fishing vessels, ferries and private yachts criss-crossing the waves.

Istanbul is full of surprises and has a charm and character unmatched by many other towns. I greatly enjoyed my time there and declare it to be one of the most enjoyable cities of the trip thus far.

Nonetheless, all good things come to an end. Next stop, Bucharest, Romania for New Years Eve.

I had the chance to check out a few of the Romanian capital’s famous landmarks by meeting a friend out of pure luck. I was lost on the streets when a nice girl approached me and offered to get me back on track.

Later, she told me she was a history teacher and would be happy to show me some of the city. I eagerly excepted and she bought me on a tour for several hours. Unfortunately I forgot her name, but she knew everything about everything and enlightened me on the rich history of her country, especially about the Ceausescu days of communism.

The next day I partied like it was 1999 for new years. I met an older Scottish guy wearing a kilt who was bombed off his ass and offered to buy me free drinks since I was traveling alone. He said he had much respect for solo travelers and it’d be his pleasure to hook me up. He also introduced me to some of his local friends- some of whom were gorgeous local Romanian girls. Free drinks and good company, what better way to bring in 2012???

After being hungover for two days and eating enough McDonald’s to super-size my waist (it was the only restaurant open in town) I reached Sofia, Bulgaria. I met a solo-traveling Malaysian girl on the train and instantly became friends since I could communicate with her in Chinese. We checked into the same hostel and explored the capital. Surprisingly enough, there were a few Chinese restaurants scattered around town, so we popped into a few to strike up conversations with the Chinese staff.

It was cool finding out what Chinese immigrants were doing in Bulgaria. Everyone has a story, and stories like theirs is interesting enough to make award winning novels.

The hostel we stayed at was quite hip. Simply named “Art,” it attracted local artists from around town into the basement bar. The Malaysian girl and I met a few graffiti artist there and all became friends. They even took us out to their favorite bar later that night, a great chance to meet the locals. It was funny though, along the way all of them kept tagging street signs and buildings around Sofia.

I’ve never really hung out with graffiti artists, nor Bulgarians in general, but that’s why we travel!

Plus, I’ve got to admit… They taught me how to tag, so I got to shoot my skills and tagged my name on a building. Luckily I didn’t end up in a Bulgarian jail that night.

(Take a look at the pic above. He’s Vlad III Prince of Wallachia (Son of Vlad II Dracul), and he’s one mean sonofabitch. Vlad Tepes (which means “Vlad the Impaler”, his nickname) ruled a section of Romania known as Transylvania during the 15th century and was known for his law and order and exceptional brutality. If you were an enemy of Vlad, or broke the law under his reign or challenged his throne, he’d play a little game with you called “impaling.” Impaling, for those who don’t know, is taking a long, thick, wooden rod with a sharp point, erecting upright into the ground then putting a human body on top of it. The stick was lodged into the anus while the victim was still alive and shoved a foot or so up into the intestine. The victim would then lay so for days while the long splintered rod slowly slithered up the body until it finally penetrated up through the mouth. The corpse would lay impaled for days, showing others not to mess with with the best. After Vlad’s death, tales of his terror spread throughout Europe. He was known as this ruthless tyrant from Transylvania who quenched his thirst in blood by impaling victims and leaving them up. Since Vlad Tepes was the son of Dracul, his patronymic became Dracula. His brutality made for quite the horror story, thus influencing Bram Stoker’s famous 1897 novel “Dracula.” Now you know).

I love asking myself the title of this blog every month because it allows me to remanence on all the great things I’ve eaten. Furthermore, everything seemed to taste a lot better after leaving the Stans. Not to say the food in the Stans was horrible (quite the contraire, they’re lamb kebabs, flat bread and tea were spectacular) but eating sheep and wheat everyday gets old quickly. I was craving pork, beef, veggies, chicken, anything but lamb. Good think I wondered into the Caucuses and Turkey, a land that it isn’t particularly known for its culinary arts, but definitely has some mouth watering treasures. Below is just an appetizer of what Trey’s been eating during the last month of 2011.

Caspian Sea Sludge. Somewhere on the Caspian Sea between Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan. I get a little criticism on my food blogs for putting unappetizing meals up from time to time. They say, “Trey, readers only care about the good ones. Just post those and leave the rubbish out!” Well, I disagree. The good and the bad is what makes traveling, well, traveling, and it’s what I’ll continue to do. So, saying that, this is a soup served to me on the cargo ship in the middle of the Caspian Sea. They’re not supposed to serve passengers, only crew, so I bought a melody of fruit along for the ride. However, after getting stranded on the freezing waters for more time than expected, the fruit ran out quickly. Luckily, one of the crew I befriended served me this- oily broth with chunks of carrots and rice, accompanied with a chunck of stale bread. Any other day, it’d taste bad, but being famished can make rubber taste like tiramisu. Ranking: 5 out of 10. Cost: Free

Shwarma. Tbilisi, Georgia. I had this thing going in Taiwan where I was trying to find the best cheeseburger in Taipei. It’s cool eating other national foods outside of a foreign country (like tacos in Kyrgyzstan, or pizza in Vietnam, or fried rice in Brazil). I did the same in the Caucuses- to find the best shawarma in the entire  region. FYI a shwarma (aka kebab or doner or gyro depending which country you’re in) is meat and vegetables and sauces all rolled up into flat bread. Every region and even every restaurant has their own special way of preparing this native Greek/Turkish meal and it can be found all over the world due to it’s tastiness and quick preparation time. So, the winner of the “Shwarma Challenge” is Tbilisi (see the before and after pics above). This one has pulled, roast pork, taziki sauce, tomatoes, cucumbers, onion and, the breaking point, incredibly spicy green pickled peppers! It was complete and utter ecstasy! Ranking: 10 out of 10. Cost: 1.50 USD.

Khachapuri. Tbilisi, Georgia. It’s cheesy, gooey, fluffy, crunchy; it’s khachapuri! Khachapuri is a traditional Georgian snack that comes in many shapes and sizes and styles. Basically it’s cheese bread. Out of all the khachapuri I tried, this one took home the heavy weight title. The bread was so light and airy, yet at the same time it was loaded with enough traditional, pungent, Georgian white cheese to clog an artery or two. But who cares, food this good and cheap is worth sacrificing a few years off your life. Ranking: 9 out of 10. Cost: .50 USD.

Kinkhali. Batumi, Georgia. It seems like every culture on the planet has its own variety of dumplings- steamed dough stuffed with meats, cheese, vegetables or anything else you can think of. Georgia is definitely no exception to the rule, but the locals prefer either meat, white Georgian cheese or mushroom stuffing. Also, Georgians use their hands to eat these bad boys. The pick up a kinkhali by the top knob and eat the dumpling, but don’t eat the nexus that their fingrs pinch at the peak ofthe dumpling. In other words, the nexus is only used for holding, not eating. If you do eat it (like I did because I’m a glutton and eat everything in sight) the locals laugh as if they were attending a Jerry Seinfeld stand-up comedy show. Ranking: 8 out of 10. Cost: about .25 USD per Kinkhali.

Turkish Pizza. Yerevon, Armenia. It’s basically a pizza without cheese and was adopted from their neighbor- you guessed it, Turkey. It’s a long flat piece of crispy crust topped with minuscule dices of tomato and meat. You also squirt a bit of lemon on top for… actually, I’m not sure why? I guess just because it taste better that way. Good meal but the ones in Turkey were better. Ranking: 5 out of 10. Cost: 2 USD.

Spinach Balls. Yerevan, Armenia. This was as interesting as it was outstanding- spinach grounded and rolled up together with butter, spices and a few grains of pomegranates. You use it as a spread for bread rather than globing the whole thing in your mouth at once (again, something I did because, to reiteratete, I’m a glutton). This would make Popeye’s biceps pop out of his skin! Ranking: 8 out of 10. Cost: .25 USD.

Kebab. Stepanakert, Nagorno Karabakh. As mentioned, shawarma, kebab and gyros are all pretty much the same thing. However, sometimes, instead of wrapping them up, they leave them unraveled like the one shown above. This kebab was ground up chicken and pork placed on a skewer and flamed on an open grill. Then they toss it on top of some raw onions and flat bread. What else more do you need in life? Oh, I know, a beer! Sure, add a beer to this already awesome dish. Ranking: 8 out of 10. Cost: 3 USD (along with the beer).

Fried Pork Patty, Fries, Carrot Salad, Green Peppers. Yerevan, Armenia. Russia, meet Armenia. I told you already that Armenia was the most similar to Russia out of all the Caucus nations, and with meals like that it only confirms my statement. However, the only difference is if this meal were in Russian borders it would be tasteless and dull, but inside Armenia it was passable Again, let me vent my anger towards Russian cuisine. Ranking: 6 out of 10. Cost: 2.50 USD.

Roast Lamb, Yellow Rice, Salad and Bread. Trabzon, Turkey. This meal sounds so simple and boring it’s amazing that it actually tasted great! In fact, Turkey has without a doubt been the biggest surprise in terms of food, culture and enjoyment this trip. It seems like everything in Turkey is just better. Great country, even better food. Ranking: 7 out of 10. Cost: 2 USD.

Baklava. Trabzon, Turkey. Baklava is Nirvana, Jana and Heaven all packed into one tasty morsel. By far my favorite desert, ever. And guess what, baklava is even better when eaten in its home country of Turkey. Baklava is like a small cake, except it has honey, nuts and pastry bread. It, like humans, comes in all different shapes, sizes, colors and flavors; but no matter what variety, it’s always daaaaaaaaaaamn good. (Wish I could say the same about humans). The baklava of this picture was even better because the owner saw me dwelling in front of his window, dreaming about baklava paradise that I couldn’t afford. Him, knowing I was a foreigner low on money and hungry, invited me in and let me sample 12 varieties! Ranking: 10 out of 10. Cost: Free.

Turkish Sandwich. Ankara, Turkey. Roast lamb meat, lettuce, onion, pickles, spicy yellow peppers and cloud like French bread. Holy God, where did Turkey get all these ideas for amazing eats? Honestly, this street food wonder goes down in the top 5 best sandwiches I’ve ever eaten. Ranking: 20 out of 10. Cost: 1.50 USD.

Yep, more Kebab… Istanbul, Turkey. What can I say? Kebab is everywhere in this part of the world- as it damn well should be. This one is like a shish kebab- skewers with beef, peppers and tomatoes resting on top a bed of crispy fries. Throw in some raw tomatoes, lettuce and taziki sauce and you got yourself one hell of a meal. I guess when it’s all said and done, anything you can cook, Turkey can cook better. Ranking: 8 out of 10. Cost: 1.50USD.

Mini doughnuts. Istanbul, Turkey. Just when I thought Turkey already had the world’s best dessert, I had to stumble across these things. A street vendor was selling them on the European side of Istanbul. I went up to his stall, ordered a bunch, and instantly fell in love. They’re hot and crispy on the outside, but dripping with liquid sweet inside. Again, some of the best doughnuts I’ve ever tried. Ranking: 9 out of 10. Cost: 6 for 1 USD.

Please click the video below to catch a glance of the “Hiroshima of the Caucuses.”

I met an Aussie and Estonian couple in Uzbekistan several months ago and just so happened to run into them again in Azerbaijan. After chatting a bit, we realized that we had similar future travel plans, so we decided to trek together for a week or so. We spent a few days in Georgia and Armenia then crossed into the Mountainous Republic of Nagorno Karabakh.

Nagorno Karabakh is truly no man’s land. Now it’s a tiny piece of land that claims independence, but the only problem is no one else in the world recognizes it as a country. Azerbaijan claims this land as theirs, and Armenia does the same. In fact, a brutally ugly war broke out between Azerbaijan and Armenia in the early 1990s with both sides suffering mass loss of life and destruction. A cease fire was issued in 1994, leaving the Mountainous Republic of Nagorno Karabakh isolated in the world community and laying lazily in a true state of the unknown.

My Aussie friend and I heard about a place on the front line called Agdam. Agdam used to be a prominent city of 100,000 inhabitants, making it more populated than the present capital of Stepanakert (pop. 50,000). However, once war broke out, Agdam became the focal point of violence and fighting. The entire city was destroyed with nonstop artillery shelling and gun battles. Residence fled the scene and evacuated into either Azerbaijan or Armenia. Once everyone left, looters ravaged the town looking for scrap metal and other valuable materials. Agdam now resembles a site of ancient Roman ruins, except only these ruins are of modern architecture and high rise apartment buildings.

The ghost town feeling and carnage is so shocking it led to the Agdam’s nickname as the “Hiroshima of the Caucuses.”

Due to outbreaks of violence continually erupting out on the front line, it’s illegal for any foreigner to visit Agdam. If caught, I’d be sent to prison in a country that is not recognized by any nation and therefore not have the chance of working with my embassy to get released. In layman’s terms, I’d be fucked.

The Aussie guy named Yanish and I talked about this issue for hours, weighing the pros and cons. He, like me, is the adventurous crazy type, which ultimately meant we decided to go and explore. His Estonian girlfriend, thinking more logically, didn’t want to risk it and stayed behind in the hotel.  Yanish and I took off.

We asked several taxis earlier about bringing us to Agdam and they all said “No” because it was illegal and too dangerous. Even after offering a hefty tip they still denied. I thought traveling to this war zone would be impossible.

Luckily, we met a taxi driver who agreed to bring us there (I think he needed the extra cash). We entered the city limits and spotted a sign of the Halo Trust Company- the company responsible for removing all the land mines in the area. Despite their effort, there’s still 100,000s of land mines in the vicinity, so our taxi driver wouldn’t let us leave the vehicle.

An electric shock of fear shocked my brain as we inched closer into the heart of town. All life was destroyed and dead. The only remaining signs of civilization stood as partly erected buildings and/or crumbling structures. It really did appear as if a nuclear bomb had exploded.

We then spotted a mosque in the distance and told the driver to head for it. We read that no one, under any circumstances, should cross the mosque due to snipers in the area. However, we still wanted to climb the minaret to get a snap shot of the ruined city. The driver pulled up to the mosque and out of nowhere, two army commandos  decked out in camo carrying sub machine guns stepped out to see who was stepping foot in this zone. I freaked out, thinking I’d be arrested and sent to a Nagorno Karabakh jail.

The driver stopped calmly, shifted the car into reverse and pulled out of the field. Yanish and I ducked and placed our heads beneath the windows, trying to cover up our identity. Incredibly enough, the commandos didn’t pull us over, and simply let the driver retreat without making a scene. “Wow, that was a close one!” I whispered to Yanish.

After spending 20 minutes in Agdam we began our way back to civilization. At one point, the car got stuck in a mud pit. Again, I thought we were doomed when this occurred. But luck was apparently on my side and the driver barely, just barely, got the wheels moving. Next, a beautiful white stallion approached our ride on the middle of a rugged street. It was spooky seeing this white horse in the middle of a war torn city; it appeared like a ghost then vanished rapidly into the distance with a quick trot. Tension was accumulating with these weird omens of the car staling and ghost horse, but we were nearly home free. But, since three’s a charm, we had another encounter with an animal.

Out of deserted building a hefty dog came screaming toward us at full speed. It leaped toward the car and bit the tire, barking and going nuts. I looked down at this beast and saw it had blood red eyes, foam in the mouth and and chunk of his skull missing, enough to see his skull and a little bit of his brain. I thanked God for being inside the vehicle because this demon surely came  from the raging depths of Hell and was looking to kill anything in its path.

Finally, we escaped the guards, the horse, the faulty roads, the law and the rabid beast and found ourselves back in Stepanakert safely. Yanish and I shook hands and congratulated one another on accomplishing this wildly insane excursion.

In no ways do I regret this trip. In fact, it goes down as one of the most interesting trips I’ve ever had in my traveling life. Enjoy the pics and video, but remember, the only way to truly get the full experience is to go there yourself and see it first hand. Let me know if you make the journey to Agdam, if so I will personally congratulate you.

I just want to stress that not all of Nagorno Karabakh is a devastated land completely ripped apart by the horrors of war. Here is the brighter side of life of the Mountainous Republic of Nagorno Karabakh.

Pics from an ancient monastery on top of a hill in the northern part of the country. After a 2.5 km hike up the mountain, a good prayer was needed!

Just your average street of Stepanakert.

Remnants of the Soviet Union. Communist bloc apartment structures in Stepanakert.

The War Memorial Museum. This small house has the photo of everyone who lost their life during the bloody war. The owner, and old woman, said she made the museum after her 18 year old son was killed in combat. She also had a big enough heart to say, “I hope war never breaks out again. I don’t want any mother, on the Armenian side or Azerbaijan side, to experience the pain of losing a child in battle.”

A Christian tomb stone.

Some of the people of Nagorno Karabakh.

I promised to end on a happy note, and here it is. It seems the residents of Nagorno Karabakh are moving on in life, looking toward the future and forgetting about the gruesome past. We were lucky enough to meet the director of an English Language club and she invited us out that Friday night. We were astonished to see the youngsters competing in break dance competitions, rap battles and dj-ing. Of course, they made me compete in the break dancing and freestyling, making it the second time this trip I’ve gotten up on stage and rapped in front of a foreign audience. Anyway, here’s video of some of the moves these kids were putting on, it’s pretty cool so take a look.

I can’t help to wonder that these kids of 17 and 18 years old would be dying in war if they had been born just a few years earlier. Now, instead, the only battling they do is with their funky dance moves and lyrics through a microphone.

“What we did during the war, We won’t tell anyone. Ask our mountains, they are the only witnesses.”

- Unknown Solider of the Nagorno Karabakh War.

While the tittle may sound like the heading of a pamphlet you get at a Finish white supremacy heavy metal concert, I can guarantee you that it’s certainly not the actual thesis of this blog post. To be honest, it’s the only one I could think of and it made me laugh a bit, so I left it as is. If you were in fact looking for neo-Nazi propaganda and just stumbled upon this through Google, sorry to disappoint you, but keep searching, I’m sure you’ll fınd what you’re looking for…

Now, for the rest of y’all. While I do appreciate the more Xtreme travel side of life, I will save that part of the story for the end. But before we get to that, please allow me to switch to my nerdy side and explain what this strange little area known as the Caucuses is all about.

Fırst, geographically speakıng, the Caucuses comprise of three recognized iindependent countries along the Caucus Mountains wedged between the Caspian Sea, Black Sea, the Middle East and Russia. Secondly, the region has been under the control of just about everybody from Tsarist Russıa, the Soviets, Genghis Khan, Timurlane, Alexander the Great, the Persians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Arabs, and pretty much everyone else in the neighborhood. Thirdly, the land is a mosaic of ethnic groups, religions and ideologies. You’ve got Muslims, Christians and old-school Soviet Atheists livıng side by side. To further complicate this multi-ethnic patchwork, there are only three countries demarcated on the Caucus map-Azerbaijan, Georgia and Armenia. But there could be way more since you have three other break away provinces inside these nation-states- Nagorno Karabakh, Abkhazia and South Ossetia. You could even expand on this if you  include the Russian controlled territories of Chechnya and Dagistan! But that’s a whole another bag of bullets. Fourth, this region is just comıng out of the dark ages. After the fall of the USSR in the early 1990s, the local economies suffered more pain than the US durıng the Great Depressıon. Wars broke out, poverty spiked to about 75%, murders rose, kidnappıngs soared and violent crime slashed a scar into civil society. While things are much, MUCH, better now, the region as a whole still has outbreaks of its violent past. Last, but not least, professionals have a hard tıme classifyıng who the Caucuses belong to due to it’s global possitioning and uniqueness. Should it be considered X-Sovıet Union? Middle East? Europe? Christian or Muslim? Safe or Unstable? No one, not even God hımself knows where the Caucuses belong, so let’s just go ahead and keep it easy- the Caucuses are the Caucuses, that’s the way they’ve always been and always will be.

Let’s look at each one of the Caucuses in detail. By the end of thıs review you’ll be astonished of how different each one of them really are.

AZERBAIJAN

Profile- Azerbaıjan is not only one of the only Shiite countries in the world (along wıth Iran and Bahraiın), it’s the only fully iindependent Muslim natıon-state of the Caucuses. Also, their language and culture is extremely similar to Turkey. Azerbaıjan is also balling out of control due to being sittuated on top of a massive reserve of natural gas and petroleum, making the capital Baku one of the most expensive cities I’ve ever visited! Baku is a modern first world city with and an astonishing place wıth massive skyscrapers, grandiose architecture, gushing fountains, the boardwalk along the glitterıng Caspian Sea and a temperate climate year round. It’s extremely clean, safe, well organized and even kept the remains of its old town in tact for historical purposes.

The Dark Side- Not all that glitters is gold. While Baku dizzle dazzels visitors and supplies the Earth with energy to move, there’s stıll a major territorial dispute wıth Armenıia ın the region of Nagorna Karabakh. A vicious war broke out between the two countries in the early 1990s and it still hasn’t been resolved. Both sides are still very bitter toward one another and claim it for themselves. As of now Nagorno Karabakh lays in no man’s land, an area constantly on the brink of war not belongıng to any nation. It lays in limbo as an iindependent region recognized by no one. And guess what? I got the chance to go there and check it out myself!

Bet you didn’t know… The Armenian/Azerbaıjan problem is so bad that when I went to apply for my visa at the Azerbaıjan Embassy in Uzbekistan, there on the main desk stood a book tittled ”The Armenian Genocıde.” Also, if you posses a Nagorno Karabakh visa in your passport, you are not granted permissıon into the Republic of Azerbaıjan.

Outlook- As long as filling up a tank costs more than my monthly rent, Azerbaijan wıll contınue to do just fıne in the future. They also fınd a balance between pleasing the big dogs and seem to be on great terms wıth Russia, the US, Europe and Chına (but obviously not Armenia).

GEORGIA

Profile- Before going I pictured Georgia as this tiny mountainous republic with rolling green hills, turquoise rivers and picturesque Chrıstian Orthodox churches ont of hill tops. And I was 100% correct! The country side and capital of Tibilisi resemble a Medieval European city with enough gothic churches to tempt the gargoils of Notre Dame into mov,ng there. But I also discovered more to Georgia. Theır food is as cheesy as my jokes and delicıous. They also love to drink homeade wine and they force (yes force) visitors to drink till drunk. I had a hangover ranging between a 6-7 on the ”I want to put a bullet in my head” scale every mornıng I spent there. So, as you can fully see, I loved Georgia!

The Dark Sıde- We’re not in Gerogıa anymore, and that’s certainly true for the former Georgian regions called Abkhazia and South Ossetia. While the Armenians and Azerbaijanis beef it out, Georgia does the same with Russia. In fact, they fought a war wıth the former colonial ruler over these small territories three years ago in 2008! (The same tıme I just so happened to be living ın Moscow). So, as the story goes in the Caucuses, Abkhazia and South Ossetia remain in no man’s land, not part of Georgia or Russia, rather sitting comfortably alone as unrecognized republics caught between the bloody game of politics.

Bet you didn’t know… Josef Stalin is Georgia’s most famous celebrity (if you can actually use the word ”celebrity”). He was in fact Georgian, not Russian, and grew up in the subburbs of Tbilisi before rising the ranks to Soviet Premier.

Outlook- Georgians love the US more than natives of Atlanta. The war with Russia only pushed them closer to the US and the West and general. The war also rose anti-Russıin sentiment amongst the Georgian youth. Now just about all the youngsters prefer to study English and other European languages over Russian.

ARMENIA

Profile- So if Azerbaijan is the rich oil sheikh, and Georgia the European win-o who gets forgiven for being drunk every Sunday while the priest pours more wine into his mouth, that would make Armenıa the Soviet relic of the past who still hasn’t got the memo about the whole collapse of the USSR and all. My Estonian friend who was traveling with me at the time said it best when talking about Yerevan, the capıtal of Armenia, ”Thıs place looks like Tallin in the 1998os.” The entire city is brown, blocky, dirty and forever gray and cold in the sky. However, it’s not all that bad. There are some lovely, ancient Churches and the economy is growıng rapidly, creating a bustling and lively seen in downtown Yerevan wıth cafes, shops and restaurants.

The Dark Side- Poor Armenia. Not only did they have an aggressive war with neighboring Azerbaijan, but also suffered mass killıngs by the Ottomans in the early 1900s. Genocide and war has been such a common trait of Armenian hıstory that now more Armenians live outside of Armenia than wıthin her own borders. The Armenian diaspora lays all over the world and has actually become quite succesful in other countrıes, most notably in Israel, the USA, Europe and Australia. In fact, the diaspora is exactly what’s giving Armenia new signs of life. The succesful expatriats abroad are the ones coming back to help revive the economy and get the place back on its feet.

Bet you didn’t know… The Kardashians, the American socialite famıly, are of Armenian descent. Apart from being rich, snobby and bratty, Kım (one of the daughters) serves as a role model for millions of aspırıng young females in the US who seek fame. Kim most certainly showed them that anyone one can reach stardom, all you have to do is make a sex tape and release it for the world to see!

(Author’s editing note to self- Before publishing, put the bit about the Kardashians in the ”Armenıan Dark Side” section, probally fits better there…).

Bet you didn’t know part deux… Armenia in the 4th century was the first nation to officiıally adopt Christianity. The second was Georgıa several decades later.

Outlook- Armenia really can’t let go of the Soviet days. They stıil look to Russıa more so than any other region in the area and is probably Russia’s number one ally there. However, that’s changing quıckly, especially with the insanely big new US embassy just completed in downtown Yerevan.

Alrıght now, that’s the Caucasian Files! But as promised, I told you I’d get to the Xtreme part of the trıp at the end of this blog. My trip to Nagorno Karabakh was pretty insane and defınitely one of my favorite travel experıences all time. But, erm, I feel a bit tired now, so please allow me to pull the ”To Be Contınued” card. Next blog entry it wıll be up and believe me, you don’t want to miss the pıctures and videos from this strange, war torn and dangerous part of the world.

So, instead, Il’l leave you with some of these other shots from around the Caucuses. Peace out!

Old Town, Baku

Zoroastrian Fire Temple, Azerbaijan. Cool place! Before Islam, Zoroastrianism was the big religion in town. In fact, Zoroastrian is from Azerbaijan. This temple is sacred because flames constantly rise from the ground due to the huge amount of natural gas below the earth. It attracted pılgrims from all around, especially India, thus becoming sacred in Hinduism as well.

The Caspian boardwalk, Baku.

Where I attended a church service ın Tbilisi, Georgia. I love comunion in this country. After the service, everyone goes outside and drinks glasses of wine while the priests hand out thick chunks of thick, doughy, white holy bread. That a way to increase your Sunday attendance rate!

The new and the old of Georgia

A staircase leading off the side of a mountain. Thank God it was day time when my friends and I began walking down it because if not… Only in Armenia

What an adventure! I’d been looking forward to/agonizing over this part of the trip since Beijing, but I finally did it and made it in once piece. Now, for the record, the only way to truly traverse Eurasia without flying is to either A. Go through Iran (which I can’t really do being American and all) B. Pass north through Russia (which I didn’t want to do because the Russian visa is annoying) or C. Cross the Caspian Sea on a cargo ship. Option C sounded like my kind of ride, so it’s what had to be chosen.

I left Uzbekistan and headed back into Kazakhstan to find a cargo ship parked at the docks. I’d heard horrible rumors of travelers getting stuck in the shit town of Aktau for weeks waiting for a ship to leave, and after seeing how cold and miserable the coastal town of Aktau really was I became horrified of the fact of even having to spend two nights there.

My luck hasn’t been that good all trip, so I figured I would have to wait at least seven days. But apparently my fortune has morphed and and is now brighter than the sun. I jumped off the train at 7am, went directly to the docks to inquire about the next departing ship and got this response, “The next one leaves at 5pm tonight. If you don’t take this one you’ll have to wait ten days.”

My money for a ticket was in her palm before she even finished her statement. So that night I borded the cargo ship and met the crew and four other passengers- an Azerbaijani couple and two Georgian train conductors whose massive containers of oil and natural gas was stashed below deck. They literally loaded the entire train onto our ship and were crossing the Caspian with hundeds of thousands of liters of explosive materials. (For some reason this didn’t stop one soul from smoking on board. I was waitng for the big bang the entire time).

It was a good thing the crew spoke English because the first night on board I went up to the bridge and learned a little bit about the ship. I also got to steer for a bit and received a crash course on charting and radar navigation. It was awesome and I absolutely loved being on the black water assisting the crew and chatting about various topics.

After hanging out a bit, I went outside to enjoy the sailing experience. Despite the mercury touching -10 Celsius, I sat out and gazed into the crisp sky at the glowing stars above while the steady motion of white-cressed waves rocked the ship to sleep. The howling wind and splashing seas created a feeling of euphoria that put me at ease with the world. I put all the tough times of Central Asia behind me and remembered only the positive and the good people encountered along the way. Indeed, crossing the Caspian was the finale of my Central Asia excursion. After reaching the port of Baku on the western banks I’d officially be in the Caucuses and well on my way to Europe. The freeze chilled my blood like a corpse until I retreated back to my cabin to sleep for the night.

That saying, it was a rough night. With no heater, the cold was unbearable. I wore every layer available in my backpack and tossed 4 blankets over my blue body and still was freezing! We also encounter some rough weather along the way. The waves reached (after talking with the crew the next morning) 5 meters (about 15 feet). In fact, the violent pulses shoved me out of bed several times during the night. It was also quite frightening being bossed around by nature’s wrath. The sporadic loud crashes of monster waves and BOOMS of cargo striking the metal hull always sent a thrash through my heart and made me panic about the ship sinking.

Nonetheless, I managed to pass out and woke up to calm stillness. The ship had stopped and parked off the coast of Turkmenistan. I rushed up deck to see why. The crew told me the waves were too big and we’d have to wait until things settled down. This incident set us back a another night, turning this easy one day crossing into a bumpy two nighter.

The time was well spent though. I got to drink tea and chat with the crew more, grub with the other four passengers, read and take pictures and videos of the ship. Below are three of the other passengers I befriended on the open seas. The Georgian guy in the middle was a character. In fact, the only thing he talked about was women. He always had a smile on and could kill anyone with the weapon of laughter- a true comedian.

Finally, we took off into the moonlit horizon heading to Baku, Azerbaijan. The weather calmed tremendously and the temperature even warmed up to above freezing. I went to sleep again knowing that I’d be in the Caucuses by the time I opened my eyes again. And sure enough I was correct.

One of the crew woke me up at sunrise telling me we were pulling up. I rushed outside to watch the docking process and glamored at the Caspian sunrise illuminating the modern, sparkling skyline of Azerbaijan’s capital.

I waved goodbye to Central Asia at the other end of the sea, calling aloud, “Thanks for the great memories and hard times. You were everything Central Asia was suppose to be. I will be back. I have so much more to see and conquer!”

If a picture is worth 1000 words, then I’m definitely not going to take the next 20 hours trying to explain how beautiful this country is. Uzbekistan is home to three of the world’s most famous ancient Silk Road trading posts- Samarkand, Bukhara and Khiva. These cities have been around for more than two millenium, rose to prominence under great warriors like Alexander the Great and Timurlane, and have been razed to the ground under Genghis Khan and the Mongols.

Usually I’m not the biggest fan of UNESCO World Heritage sites because they’re touristy and blah blah blah blah, but this proves to be a major exception to the rules since I certainly had no idea how stunning these ancient cities were. So, without further ado, here are the jewls of the Silk Road in the order of Bukhara, Samarkand and Khiva, respectively.

1. Bukhara- A major Silk Road post and once Islamic intellectual hub of the first Arab Caliphate. Along with Baghdad and Cordoba, this place was the epicenter of Islamic culture and heritage.

(A Synagogue. Since these cities were such prominate trade routes, many of the Jewish merchants from back in the day still haven’t left. Therefore there’s still pockets of Jewish communities all throughout Uzbekistan).

Samarkand- Samarkand grew, just like the others, as a trade post on the Silk Road between the Orient and Europe/Middle East. However, Samarkand reached greatness due to a hometown local by the name of Timur. Timur, aka Timurlane, was a brutal warrior who gathered an army and rallied after the Mongol conquest. He ended up conquering a mass of land from Moscow to New Dehli to Jerusalem to the Himalayas. Of course, he made the capital of this vast empire Samarkand. He bought artists and architects from the distant realms of his empire to help build Samarkand into the most beautiful city of the ancient world. Timurlane is quite the individual- a lover of the fine arts/architecture and slaughtering any man, woman or child who stood in his way of power.

(Timurlane’s final resting place. Listen to this story. A Soviet archeologists was ordered by Stalin to open his grave and examine the great ruler’s remains. The archeologists confirmed that Timurlane was in fact lame in the leg and arm. But, he also discovered a message carved into the tomb which translated to, “Whoever opens this will be attacked by an enemy far worse than I.” The very next day, Adolf Hitler broke the Nazi-Soviet peace pact and invaded the Soviet Union. This one sends chills down my spine).

Khiva- Silk Road towns made wealth off, you guessed it, trading silk. But, it must be stressed that silk was not the only commodity bought and sold along the Silk Road. Everything from herbs, spices, clothing, foods, fruits, pocelain, tea, livestock, metals, weapons, the list goes on forever. In fact, silk was just another good, not the main product by any means. The only reason it’s called the Silk Road is because some German historian thought it sounded cool. On the other hand, one of the most profitable, if not THE most profitable, thing exchanged in the Silk Road posts were slaves. And the best place to purchase a slave back then was this town known as Khiva. Again, funny how money from slavery was used to build some of the most remarkable religious architectural projects in world history.

Near China’s northern borders lived a man well versed in the practices of Taoism. His horse, for no reason at all, got into the territory of the northern tribes. Everyone commiserated with him.

“Perhaps this will soon turn out to be a blessing,” said his father.

After a few months, his animal came back, leading a fine horse from the north. Everyone congratulated him.

“Perhaps this will soon turn out to be a cause of misfortune,” said his father.

Since he was well-off and kept good horses his son became fond of riding and eventually broke his thigh bone falling from a horse. Everyone commiserated with him.

“Perhaps this will soon turn out to be a blessing,” said his father.

One year later, the northern tribes started a big invasion of the border regions. All able-bodied young men took up arms and fought against the invaders, and as a result, around the border nine out of ten men died. This man’s son did not join in the fighting because he was crippled and so both the boy and his father survived

- Chinese Proverb. “Blessing in Disguise” (Sai Weng Shi Ma, Yan Zhi Fei Fu)

I woke up the next morning after the terrorists tried converting me into a “soldier of Allah” and was excited because I was going to take the Pamir Highway into the GBAO restricted area of Tajikistan and begin my journey down to Afghanistan. I rushed up to the hostel guy and said, “I’m ready, call the taxi.”

He looked back with a discouraging look, “Not today my friend, huge snow storm hit last night and the roads will be blocked for days.”

My heart deflated like a balloon. I responded, “There’s got to be a way! There’s always a way. Call another taxi, please. I only have one more day left on my visa and must leave now.”

Like a father talking to his son, he sat me down and explained it was impossible. The roads, especially the Pamir Highway at 4000 meters into the heavens are plagued with white sheets of ice nearly the entire winter. It’s a perilous journey.

Perhaps this will soon turn out to be a blessing? I accepted defeat and looked into the sky and declared my trip to Afghanistan over. “I’ll be back,” I stated, “I’m not letting you get away that easily.”

Time for plan B. I jumped in a taxi and went to the other end of the Tajik border. From there I would cross another set of massive mountains called the Fan down to Dushanbe, – the Tajik capital. Dushanbe is said to be a nice city and the fastest place to process a Turkmenistan transit visa (all the other Central Asian cities take about 3 weeks to process the incredibly painful Turkmen visa, and after those three weeks it’s still not guaranteed you’re granted admission. For some odd reason Dushanbe is the exception to this rule).

The 8 hour taxi to the border was long, bumpy and cold; but I reached it safely regardless. I cleared customs then decided to hitchhike the rest of the way to the city of Khojand. I got lucky, the guy who picked me up was obviously very wealthy since he was steering a brand new, 2011 Crystler SUV. He wore a suit and tie and had his 5 year old son in the back. Most hitchhiking in Central Asia ends up with the driver asking for money at the end of the ride, but I knew this guy wouldn’t… and he didn’t.

I stayed in an old, dilapidated Soviet hotel in Khojand. The rooms were large, spacious and musty, but at least I got my own room and even had a TV, commodities I consider to be a luxury in my travels. Too bad I couldn’t boast about the bathroom. The shower was so disgusting that I realized bathing it would only make me dirtier.

When laying in bed that night, about to go to sleep, a knock hit the wooden door several times. I looked through the crack in the door (not peep-hole, I reiterate, crack) and saw an old prostitute standing there in clothes filthier than my room’s toilet. I decided not to answer and bother using my Russian, instead tip-toeing back to bed and pulling the ole “no body’s home” trick. This incident was funny, it made me remember the time in China a few months ago when a whore came barging into my room while I was standing up stark naked. It made me reflect on my trip and, sadly, realize how quick everything has gone by.

The next day I went to the car lot to ask for taxis to Dushanbe. Like deja-vu, the driver said, “Big snow storm just hit, road closed.”

I flipped out and couldn’t believe it. Actually, I refused to believe him and the other 5 drivers who said the same thing. I really believed that every one was playing a trick on me by not letting me cross these damned mountains. Instead, I decided to beat them in their own game. “I’ll show them,” I arrogantly whispered to myself. “I’m going to take a taxi to the next town and from there I’ll easily find a ride to Dushanbe across the Fan.”

I laughed devilishly and headed south 100km to Istavashim. I reached the car lot in this small, unknown town and began asking for taxis to Dushanbe. They, not surprisingly, told me the same response every taxi driver had told me in Khojand.

I felt like an idiot. I couldn’t believe I really thought going to another city would help me cross these stupid, snow covered mountains.

I talked with the taxi driver more and begged him to go. To my surprise, he stated that the tractor should pass the next morning and we (including 4 other passengers) should be on our way. “Great!” I declared. “See you tomorrow. Where’s the nearest/cheapest hotel?”

Faruq, the driver, told me that there were no hotels in town, but not to worry since I could stay with him and his family. It was a true and amazing display of Tajik hospitality that I eagerly accepted.

(Faruq’s neighborhood)

That night, I went to his home and met his family- his wife, his 3 kids, his brother, his brother’s wife and their three kids. They lived in a square shaped house with an outdoor courtyard in the middle. His brother’s family lived on one side while Faruq and them lived on the other. There was also a room where Faruq’s mother lived. Everyone shared the same communal out-house (no running water) and electricity only lit from 7pm-10pm at night.

(Faruq’s children)

It was a nice place in my eyes and probably upper middle class in Tajik terms. I liked it a lot- it possessed a sense of community, family and culture. Faruq’s side of the house was covered with Tajik carpets, had a small dining table and a bedroom for he and his wife and and another one for the children. Since I was a male guest, they put all the guys together in the kids room (Faruq, his two sons and me) and the girls (his wife and daughter) in the other bedroom.

I ate a good meal and went to sleep almost immediately. The language barrier combined with staying with a stranger made it a little awkward, but I was also as tired as a camel in the dessert.

(Faruq’s house)

The next morning I woke up and Faruq told me the bad news, “No tractor, we still have to wait another day.” Luckily, with every bit of bad news comes the good news. He continued in Russian, “But you can still stay with us tonight.”

I had no other option and accepted his offer again. So, we ate breakfast, took the kids to school, bought his wife to visit her father in the hospital then went to the car lot to hang out with the other taxi drivers. We stayed there all day, chewing this strong type of green tobacco commonly found in the region and smoked cigarettes while I tried my best to answer the 1000s of questions they had about the USA in my poor Russian.

The day passed quickly and I soon found myself back in Faruq’s. We ate dinner again, this time plov, then watched a boxing fight on TV. We all felt more comfortable around each other since I had already stayed one night there. We chatted and I grew more confident in my Russian after being submersed in it for 3 days. I could comprehend better and convey my messages more efficiently and smoothly.

Again, the next day, same response, “No tractor.” I cursed this tractor for never coming, but didn’t blow my top like I usually do when things don’t work out since I knew that would equal another night chilling with Faruq’s family. Perhaps this will soon turn out to be a blessing? I was having fun there making them laugh, while the wife was happy that I helped the children with their English homework and Faruq was happy he had some one to chew tobacco with.

The next morning, again, same response. I already knew the routine and followed it religiously- wake up, eat breakfast, bring kids to school, bring wife to hospital, go to car lot and consume a lot of tobacco, go home, eat dinner, watch Jean Claude Van Dam movies until the electricity blacked out, go to bed.

The fourth morning I woke up and glanced out the window and saw it snowing. I knew that was it. Another snow storm would delay me another week at least. My patience, despite living a free, peaceful existence at Faruq’s house, was growing thin and I began to see myself as a freeloader. I told Faruq that enough was enough and I was leaving Tajikistan into Uzbekistan. There were no other roads to Dushanbe and no way out so the Uzbeck Republic was my only escape. I looked up at the sky and declared an end to my Turkmenistan journey since getting a visa in any other town beside Dushanbe would be killer. Perhaps this will soon turn out to be a blessing? Faruq drove me to the border, I said my goodbyes, wished his family well, and took off into Uzbekistan.

For some reason, there was some force, maybe even God himself, keeping me from reaching Afghanistan and, to even some extent, Turkmenistan. Who knows what would have happened to me in Afghanistan??? Looking back on it, it scares me just thinking about it- Me kneeling in a dusty room blind folded in front of a camcorder behind a black and gold flag of Arabic calligraphy while some one prepared a blade for my decapitation. Obviously this thought didn’t stop me from trying, so it was up to some greater power to halt me in my tracks.

No matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t do it, the snow just kept coming thus barricading the roads clean shut for days on end in every direction. I truly think it was a blessing in disguise, for God or whatever higher force there is up there, most certainly works in mysterious ways.

“I’m not too thrilled about the bitter winter, terrorists, authoritarian regimes, corruption, revolutions and, perhaps the most frightening aspect of them all, the Russian influence on local cuisine.”

- Me from my first blog post of the trip when talking about the fears of Central Asia. August 29, 20011

The entire month of November was spent in the Stans- (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan). And if you keep up with my other blog posts, you can see that my predictions about the hassles of Central Asia stated in my first blog post have, like a Christmas wish, all come true: General Winter turns your thoughts into muddy slush (like it did to me while writing “Goodnight from Astana” and blizzards paralyze transportation for weeks (which is what kept me from reaching my dream destination of Afghanistan). Later I met supposed terrorists in Osh who tried to convert me to a “soldier of Allah.” Corrupt police officials have stolen my money and hassled me in just about ever place I’ve been. The authoritarian dictators of these countries perturbe you in ways you can’t imagine; you’re searched at every metro station, must registering with the police in every town you arrive in and drive you crazy with banners of corny propaganda plastered on an ugly building about building a “strong and prosperous nation.” And though there hasn’t been a revolution (yet), the remnants leftover from the ones last year still linger in the thoughts and minds of the locals. Plus I still have about a week left in this region so let’s not rule a full blood revolt completely out. And that brings me to my last and most horrifying point of them all- “the Russian influence on local cuisine.” Here’s what Trey’s been eating (both the good and bad) of the month of November, 2011 in the Central Asian Stans.

Zharkent, Kazakhstan. Beefsteak and potatoes. My first meal in Kazakhstan was disappointing. I was curious to try the local eats and saw this on the menu. It had a picture of a massive, juicy steak, french fries, tomatoes and a loaf of bread all for 4 USD. I should have known it was too good to be true and got this instead- gluey mashed potatoes, a mouse sized cut of stale bread, ketchup, mayo and some meat which I’m pretty sure was a Jimmy Dean sausage. Ranking: 3 out of 10. Cost- 4 USD. Russian influence on food strike number one.

Somewhere on a train between Astana and Almaty, Kazakhstan. Fish (Yeah, it almost fooled me too). Citrus Silver (the schizophrenic maniac I met in Astana) insisted we order a snack while taking shots of vodka on the train because it’s a “Russian tradition.” When he ordered this I vomited in my mouth. It breaks the three rules of seafood: 1. Don’t order seafood on a train. 2. Don’t order seafood unless you’re close to the coast (especially when in Siberia). 3. Never let a drunk schizophrenic order your seafood. When you break all three this is what you get. I told Citrus I wasn’t going to touch this and he, after probing it for a minute and discussing the situation with himself, agreed. It smelt like a Venezuelan prison and was by far the nastiest looking catch of any previous living creature I’ve ever seen. Ranking: -3700 out of 10. Cost: Who knows and who really cares. Russian influence on food strike number two.

Astana, Kazakhstan. Palmeni. Palmeni means dumplings in Russian, similar to the dumplings you get at any Chinese restaurant. The only difference is in this part of the world they use sour cream or mayonnaise for dressing instead of soy sauce and chili. It’s OK at best, especially when compared to the other Russian foods out there, but still can’t compete with Chinese dumplings. Ranking: 4 out of 10. Cost: 3 USD. Russian influence of food strike number three. YOU’RE OUT! No more Russian food for me for the rest of the trip.

After three intestine twisting meals, I left the Russian sphere of influence and finally got to dig into to some of the good stuff. Here it is.

Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. Beshbemark. Let’s learn Kyrgyz. “Besh” means five and “bemark” means fingers. So, in the Kyrgyz language, beshbemark means “five fingers.” No, human limbs aren’t tossed into it; it’s because back in the day before silver utensils you used five fingers to shovel the collage of thin white noodles, sauteed onions and lean strips of lamb into your mouth. This is one of Kyrgyzstan’s and Central Asia’s staple dishes and, guess what, I know why- Because it’s delectable! Ranking: 8 out of 10. Cost: 4 USD.

Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. A Kyrgyz Feast. After spending the morning at a Kyrgyz University, my friend, Sam, invited me to grub down on a traditional Kyrgyz feast; and this is what we got starting from the top. 1. Roast, succulent lamb with slices of veggies. 2. Me holding a glass of airirang (fermented cows milk that taste like bland yogurt. You drink it, use it as a dipping sauce or mix it with sugar for your sweet tooth). 3. Samsa- lamb like dumplings. 4. Sam taking a bite of of a lamb kebab. You already know this meal is good, no need for me to clarify, but the coolest part of it all was Sam teaching me about his local eating habits. Most Kyrgyzs are Muslim, meaning they eat Halal (FYI Hala:Islam::Kosher:Judaism). Some aspects of Halal are you must only eat lamb killed that day, don’t consume alcohol or anything cooked in alcohol and no pork and ham. He also taught me that Kyrgyz must break their bread a certain way with two hands and always pour another’s empty tea glass. So thanks, Sam, for the eating tips and awesome grub, it was definitely one of the best meals of the trip. Ranking: 10 out of 10. Cost 10 USD for two people.

Cholpon Ata, Kyrgyzstan. Lagman. Lagman is very similar to beshbemark except that it’s smothered with a melody of steamed vegetables. So, langman= steamed veggies+white noodles+slices of lamb. Incredibly enough, as similar as it may be to its cousin behbemark, the vegetables are enough to distinguish it and make it an entirely different tasting meal. So, two thumbs up! Ranking: 8 out of 10. Cost: 2 USD

Khojand, Tajikistan. Shashlik and Pickled Vegetables. Shashlik is skewered meat and it’s impossible not to find it on every street corner in Central Asia. In this pic from a bazaar in Tajikistan, I’ve got one stick of lamb sausage, one of beef and one of lamb/lamb fat (they enjoy the fatty chunks over here and consider it to be the best cut of the animal; probably because they keep you warm during this harsh winter). First you select the raw pieces of meat you want. Then they throw it on an open flamed grill right on the street. Next they toss some raw onions over it. Last you’re served along with tea, flat breat and pickled vegetables. PICKLED VEGETABLES? What is this, Korea? Well… Yeah, it may be. Pickled vegetables became popular over here once Josef Stalin forced hundreds of thousands of Koreans from the Eastern realm of his Soviet Empire into Central Asia during his Virgin Lands campaign. They not only bought their labor, but culture, customs and, or course, food traditions as well. In fact, many ethnic Koreans still live in Central Asia and, of course, their pickled vegetables are still served all over the region and considered a native delicacy. Ranking: 9 out of 10. Cost: 3 USD total.

Istaravshan, Tajikistan. An average Tajik family’s dinner of fried potatoes, sausage, fried egg, carrot salad and pot of scalding black tea. As you’ll see in my next blog, I ended up staying at a Tajik family’s house for a few days (long story). They practically adopted me as their son. I helped bring the kids to school, slept in their living room and ate dinner with them every night. This photo is interesting because it shows what an average Tajik family has for dinner, something I sure as Hell didn’t know. It was good, but the company of Faruq, his wife, his three kids, his brother and his brother’s three kids made it even more grand. Ranking: 8 out of 10. Cost: FREE (Thanks Faruq).

Tashkent, Uzbekistan. Plov. A food blog about Central Asia is impossible without mentioning plov. Plov is best served in Uzbekistan where oily, steamed rice, steamed sliced vegetables and chunks of lamb are all mixed together. This particular dish topped it off with hard boiled eggs, tomatoes and onions which proved to be an outstanding combo. Every region of Uzbekistan has different styles of plov and, of course, sticking to the local tradition of every cuisine on the face of this planet, eating it is said to be a natural afrodisiac; especially if you drink the grease leftover at the bottom of the plate.  Plov is so good that it became an obsession of mine. It was the only thing I ate and the only thing I thought about eating for a week straight. Luckily, I’m over that stage in my life and have moved on to eating other foods again. Ranking: 8 out of 10. Cost: 4 USD.

On a highway between Samarkand and Bukhara, Uzbekistan. Pomegranates. Uzbekistan is also famous for pomegranates. Once you get tired of eating lamb and boosting your libido by drinking plov grease (hey, sure beats Viagra), you can replenish the nutrients in you body by eating a few of these babies. In fact, this was the first time I ever ate a pomegranate. And you know what? Pomegranates are great! Why don’t people all over the world eat more pomegranates? Have you noticed that I not only like eating pomegranates but also like saying the word “pomegranates”? Ranking: 7 out of 10. Cost 1 USD for like 15 of them.

The Hostel Meal. You may think I eat every meal like King Solomon while on the road. And I would agree (only if it’s possible for a king to eat like a king for the cost of a Big Mac Supersized meal). I always try to eat local/traditional/tasty food for a budget in every country I’m in because 1. It tastes good. 2. It’s a great way to learn about the culture and 3. It’s how to meat locals. Unfortunately, even paying for a 3 dollar meal here and there adds up, making it essential to release your frugal spirit and indulge in what I like to call a “Hostel Meal.” Hostel meal’s are what you purchase from the local supermarket and eat in the comfort of your own hostel with other struggling backpackers eating hostel meals. Hostel meals are made to be extremely cheap, filling and some what taste bud worthy. These hostel meals vary from region to region depending on local produce and cost. Therefore, my favorite of the trip looks similar to the picture above- a large loaf of bread, chunk of salami, block of cheddar cheese, an orange, a pickle and a Twix candy bar. A good hostel meal in my view like this one should last several days, save money and cover a wide array of tastes. It’s a poor man’s dinner no doubt, but every once in a while, even when I’m working saving up for a trip and not traveling I’ll head to the supermarket and get myself a good ole hostel meal. Ranking: 5 out of 10. Cost. 2 USD