Category: Blog

Confession – I like to travel. I dream of distant lands, faraway places, bustling metropolises that vibrate to their own special, unique cultural beats. The world is a big place, and from the fiery Darvaza Crater in Turkmenistan to the remote Tiger’s Nest Monastery in Bhutan, I have amassed a hefty list of Places-To-Visit in my lifetime. Below are a few of the wilder ones.

##

Tristan da Cunha Island
The loneliest island on Earth. With the nearest land mass 2430km away, Tristan da Cunha is as remote as it gets – so remote that cartographers cannot draw it on most maps.  The island, a mountainous and rocky volcanic outcropping, supports 270-odd British citizens. One telephone, one fax machine, and one mail delivery each year from the RMS St. Helena a year, the only mail ship in the world.

Darvaza Crater – Darvaza, Turkmenistan
As locals say, the door to hell. It was 1971, and a group of Soviet geologists discovered an underground cavern in central Turkmenistan that was rich in natural gas. Unfortunately, the cavern collapsed, destroying the drilling rig and creating a large, yawning hole with a 60 meter diameter. More than 30 years later, the pit still burns, creating an apocalyptic landscape that, after dusk, attracts thousands of spiders from around the desert. I’m sure my mom would dig that.

Manikarnika Ghat – Varanasi, India
In 2006, I was fortunate enough to visit Varanasi, one of the oldest continually inhabited cities in the world. According to Hindu mythology, Varanasi was founded by the Hindu deity Lord Shiva, and those that are cremated at the Manikarnika Ghat are supposedly granted instant nirvana. The city draws over one million pilgrims a year. The funeral pyres dominate the “burning ghat”, ghat meaning the flight of steps leading down to the Ganges River, and surrounding markets sell all the essentials required for a proper cremation – wood, ghee, clothing, offerings to deities, etc. It’s a wild experience.

Namib Desert – outside of Swakopmund, Namibia
Considered one of the oldest deserts in the world, the Namib Desert boasts some of the largest sand dunes in the world, making the location a sandboarder’s paradise. A paradise without foliage of course. The timeless and shifting dunes reach heights of over 300 meter, sure to challenge even the most skilled riders. Sounds fun!

Blue Lagoon – Grindavík, Iceland
One of the most frequented destinations in Iceland, the Blue Lagoon is a geothermal spa with an average water temperature of just over 100°F. Toasty. The superheated water is sourced near active lava flow and after being routed through turbines to generate electricity, the water is fed into the lagoon. The water is reputed to have medicinal properties, and bathers are required to adhere to a strict hygienic code, showering both before and after bathing. Don’t forget your towel.

Atlantic Road – Norway (Atlanterhavsveien)
The Atlanterhavsveien, or Atlantic Road, is the second-most visited scenic road in Norway (after the Trollstigen), stretching 5 miles and connecting the island of Averøy to the mainland city of Eide. The road spans several small islands, landfills, skerries and eight separate bridges. Both tourists and locals can often be seen fishing for saltwater fish, mostly cod, directly from the road. Drivers beware. Fun fact – while the road was being built from 1983 to 1989, no less than 12 hurricanes hindered construction.

Wadi-us-Salaam – Najaf, Iraq
Wadi-us-Salaam is undoubtedly the largest Islamic cemetery in the world, home to the graves of many Prophets and revered followers of Islam. Located in Najaf, Iraq, one of Shiite Muslim’s holiest cities, nearly all Shi’as in Iraq request burial in Wadi-us-Salaam. Approximately 5 million bodies are already buried throughout the 1500 acre grounds, so personal space may be limited.

“Tree of life” – Tsavo National Park, Kenya
Tsavo National Park was declared protected territory in 1948 and covers 8,200 square miles in southeastern Kenya. This acacia tree – deemed the “tree of life” – stands solo in the wild, thorny expanse of sun-blasted savanna. One can only imagine the paltry refuge it’s shade provides to animals seeking to escape equatorial rays. The image comes from Yann Arthus-Bertrand, a prolific French artist renowned for his aerial photography. What a shot, yea?

Taktshang Monastery – Paro Valley, Bhutan
Talk about remote – Taktshang Monastery, or Tiger’s Nest Monastery, is located several hours away from Bhutan’s only airport. While you can walk close enough to snap some photos, you probably won’t be granted access inside. Erected hundreds of years ago on the side of a 10,000ft cliff, Tiger’s Nest is positioned precariously on a ledge 2,000ft above the valley floor. As outlined by national law, one cannot travel around Bhutan without a guide, and many tourists shy away from the daily costs associated with following these rules.

Grand Bazaar – Tehran, Iran
The Grand Bazaar is the world’s largest bazaar, with many corridors ranging over 10km in length. Despite historical significance throughout the 19th century as a hubbub of banks, mosques, financiers and guesthouses, most of the bazaar was constructed rather recently. In fact, you could call the Grand Bazaar one of the newest in the Middle East. Iranians trade, among other goods, precious metals, spices, paper, carpets, and a wide variety of modern products. Locked and guarded at night, the bazaar experiences peak traffic at midday and between 5pm-7pm in the early evening. Haggling is encouraged!

##

Which places would you like visit?

Did you enjoy this post? Please pass it along to others via StumbleUpon, or share your comments below. Thank you for your support!

I love maps, especially maps that move. Wild!

It was 12:42pm, and the air in the D-finger of the Lagos Airport was stale and musty, like the air you might find in a shadowy, backdoor staircase. The woman to my left was grumbling, audibly enough for me to turn my head, but not so loud as to wake the lightly snoring Saudi Arabian man to my right.

If he is wrong, we tear him to pieces! He offer himself as sacrifice and we tear him to pieces! We take off his belt and expose him. Ha!

The woman was referring to the Virgin Nigeria agent lumbering our way. It was over an hour after our scheduled departure, and until that point, not an agent was to be found. The 40-odd Accra-bound passengers had been lingering outside of an unmarked Gate 41, and while some of them didn’t seem to mind the idling, the woman to my left was determined to find out where our flight was. Thankfully, it was on the way.

I realized that it had been over two weeks since I had last flown – a lengthy duration for someone who normally bounces from city to city. In lieu of my traditional nap, I took the opportunity to ruminate on all that had happened during my previous two weeks in Nigeria.

How, on a balmy, traffic-typical afternoon in Lagos, my driver Shola was accosted by a street rascal targeting his tires with a rusty nail – Shola promptly socked him in the face, and we drove onward. How, after being asked to leave a supermarket twice, I went back two days later to sleuth all the prices onto my mobile phone. And how, over a two-day span, I was laughably stalked by Ginny, the relentlessly persistent prostitute.

Nigeria, what a riot.

A common blunder amongst us all is to lump the unknown together. To think of a place like Africa as a homogeneous, static continent- lions and tigers and poverty, oh my! I must confess that I can’t ignore this occasional tendency. After all, it’s much simpler to stereotype, right? A few hours in Ghana slapped some sense into me. Africa is a diverse, diverse, diverse place. Ghana and Nigeria are vastly different, and even now, after a few days in Accra, I must consciously force myself to reanalyze and recalculate my surroundings.

While Ghana means Warrior King, Accra’s city name is derived from the abundant anthills urban core. That’s right, folks, Accra, in a roundabout way, means ants. I haven’t seen any ant hills as of yet, but my eyes are prepared. Throughout the 18th century, Accra grew as a trade center, with gold, cocoa, and a variety of other commodities changing hands amongst the Portuguese, Swedish, Dutch, French, British and Danish. Fast forward a number of years, throw in a railway system, and Accra transformed from a fort-town into a modern city, now the administrative capital of Ghana. Today, Accra boasts infrastructure. Good schools, clean roads – Accra is a hubbub of progress.

Driving around the city, I am no longer aggressively besieged by howling hawkers – Hey, white man! – freed up from pushy selling and able to take deep breaths. Just yesterday I was sitting in the car, my bent elbow hanging outside the window, and I watched a chicken cross the road [insert joke here]. That made me happy. I continue to be amazed at the women with bulging bundles balanced on their heads. I surrendered to one of them and purchased some super glue for 60 cents, which I needed to repair the already-broken flip flops I had picked up in Ibadan.

My work, for the most part, is done, and since I don’t leave until Saturday evening, I have a few more moments of travel left, a few days to soak up some equatorial African rays, to see some sights, to reflect on the last month. Tomorrow I will be waking up early to visit the Cape Coast Castle, a UNESCO World Heritage site roughly 3 hours outside of Accra. The fortification played a major role during the trans-Atlantic slave trade as the holding grounds for African slaves. The number of African-deported slaves is remarkable – estimates range from 12 to 25 million – and many of them channeled through West Africa, spent their final days on the African continent cramped up in the dungeons of the Cape Coast Castle.

Should be a busy day. Check in soon.

In America, we sell hot dogs on the street. Here they sell just about everything – just this morning, half-melted packages of Fanice ice cream, dried fish, and car floor rubber mats caught my eye. A man, selling Hercules Mouse Boards (designed to kill domestic rodents), had very real, very pungent dead rats dangling from his other hand to demonstrate the validity of his product. Driving through town is always a spectacle for me. Motorcycle taxis that haul a passenger in and out of traffic, on and off the sidewalk, over the broken, sun-bleached roads – it’s fascinating to watch. Especially when the passenger’s baby is strapped to her back, the baby’s head precariously bobbing up and down with each turn of the bike.

I feel comfortable claiming that vehicular awareness is much higher in Nigeria than in America. Anyone who has spent time in the developing world knows what I’m talking about – mad driving skills! Impossible parking jobs appear effortless. Traffic, at first unnavigable, opens up with a couple of delicately aggressive, forward nudges. Movement, though, in the middle of the day, continues to be slow. I can’t say that I like idling, but I’ve learned to cope.

Squinting in the thick, filmy heat of equatorial sunshine this afternoon, I noted a substantial amount of religious-themed shop names. “Adonai Concrete Block Industry,” “Pastors Bookshop,” “God Is Able Electronics,” “Shalom Cyber Center,” and “Blessed Joe Computers” were my favorites. I wonder who the first missionaries to come to Ibadan were. Where they stayed. What they were thinking. I’d like to do some more research on missionary migration throughout Africa. Any suggestions?

Before my Internet connection runs out, I have two quick stories to share:

1. Just go with me on this one – I was pressured to give a prostitute my phone number, so I gave her a wrong one. She found out, and howled at me as I drove by the following morning. She tracked me down to the hotel and ended up calling my room last night. I said no. 30 minutes later, she called again. I said no. This morning, at the hotel restaurant, I was grabbing a quick bite to eat, and she walked up to the table! Apparently her sister had spent the night with a Canadian man (or something?), so she was there to pick her up. Again, I tell her that I’m not interested. I hop into Seyi’s (my driver’s) car, and 10 minutes later we are idling in traffic. The sun is hot, and with no AC in the car, I rolled the windows down while explaining to Seyi what had happened the night before. THE SAME WOMAN walked up to the side of the car and said, “I hear you be talking about me.” Remember, this is a 10-minute drive away from the hotel. She then knocked on the window of the car in front of us and jumped in. No call tonight.
2. At a real estate meeting, I was discussing the Ibadan rental market with an agent when he began to laugh. I asked him if everything was OK. One of his colleagues chimed in, “you are the first white man he has ever seen.” The agent made me take a picture with him.

I can’t make this stuff up folks.

That wraps up Ibadan. Tomorrow morning I leave the hotel around 7am for my 11:30am flight from Lagos. I should be in Accra, Ghana by 1pm. Talk to you then.

A few weeks ago, I came across a diamond in the rough. It was early in the morning, and I was thumbing through books in the Abuja airport, trying desperately to stay awake for my Virgin Nigeria boarding call. I am always interested to see which booksmake it to the far corners of the Earth, and in this particularly seedy shop, it was an interesting blend of business and self-help titles, with a few Obama memoirs. Then I found it: How To Be a Nigerian, a 79-page “guide book for Nigerians and expatriates on the conduct, deportment, comportment, bearing, demeanor, mien, carriage, air, port, actions, the misdoing, misconduct and misbehaviours of the Nigerian adult male and female.”

Oh – what a read! The book is quite outdated, written and published in 1966, and the author is hysterically opinionated, but I enjoyed it thoroughly. Below are a few of my favorite quotes:

It is not easy to write a book. First, you have to get a book; then you have to write it. That has been my experience.

Doctors cannot cure you of fresh colds unless they know to what tribe you belong.

If invited to dinner, it is pertinent to arrive terribly late, for it is bad manners to give your host the impression that you are eager for his meal. You’ve got to show that you too have food in your home and you are doing him a favour by turning up at all…When you are offered a drink, refuse it right away, even if you need one desperately.

The practised Nigerian orator is verbose, expansive, repetitive. If there are two ways of making a point, one short, the other long, he will plug for the longer route. Because, in the ears of listeners, it is the length of his speech that will determine its substance, its wit, its power, its influence and its effect. He begin his marathon address with a familiar apology: …”I do not intend to waste your time.” Then he goes to so precisely what you expect him to do – waste your time.

They tip the taxi driver for giving them a nice ride through a circuitous route to their correct destination; they tip the newsstand vendor for risking his health in a cold booth to sell them newspapers. They tip the dainty usherette who guides them through dangerous aisles in a darkened cinema hall, they tip the lift attendant for attending the lift; and if a waiter brings them their change, they tip him for not keeping it to himself. How simply horrible.

In fact, a telephone is a gadget for recording silence. It is also an instrument installed in the home or office to relieve boredom. When life becomes monotonous and dull and friends and relations are nice and pleasant, you can obtain a good quarrel and get happily ruffled at very low charges, by merely lifting the receiver and calling the telephone operator.

The difference between an aeroplane and a Nigerian taxi is that one takes off, the other just fails to take off.

A Nigerian who writes fluent Arabic and has acquired a command of the French language in Chad Republic is still not educated, until he can speak and write English.

Most successful men in Lagos are rich not for the size of their savings, but for the load of overdraft they carry.

To be a good foreigner, you must stay an alien. Nigerians are immensely hospitable to foreigners. They especially like foreigners who know their place as aliens and keep it.

Well there you have it – how to be a Nigerian. Not sure how fitting these ideas are today, as I am fairly confident that a lot has changed in the last 43 years. I will attest, though, that the quote on taxi drivers couldn’t be any truer. Again, it was a fun read. Highly recommended if you ever get the chance to visit this country. Heading to Ibadan tomorrow, a city about 2 hours outside of Lagos, and will be there until next Saturday. Will update in the next few days.

##

Sweet lizard, yea? Spotted him at the hotel in Abuja. I call him Hubert.