So I’m in Ireland, as per usual I have no return airfare, and they are only getting dearer. The pricy part is just getting from that last country back into Oz. Next time I think I’ll sail a yacht, staff it with supermodels, and live on beluga caviar. Probably about equal with a cattle class airfare from Singapore, but more fun. First world problems.

       Sal wants to go to Dubai. They have a beach and good weather. Sounds like a starter. Three nights in the Jemeria Beach Hotel, the only down side is they email me just after I can’t cancel, telling me the water park next door is closed for maintenance for the next six weeks. Did I mention that free access to the water park was why we were staying there. Oh well they do have 5 pools a beach and a good breakfast. I’ll survive.

         So far I’ve been on someone else’s trip, but I have a cunning plan. Sal heads off for Sydney, I go in the opposite direction.  My cheapie plane ticket to Qatar leaves from Dubais second airport. I'm hoping they have a bus between the two.  No such luck, but after a crazy ride and a $75 taxi fare I arrive at beautiful Sharjah. This place is not the chrome and gold plated main airport. It runs on Kaos. People with boxes everywhere, hidden airline desks, random queues, defiantly the budget section. Somehow I get my boarding pass, planes a bit late, two gate changes, but next stop Qatar. My flight gets in late, the next one leaves early, only ten hours to kill. Through to the transit hall, then to my home for the night. A two square meter box, in a room full of boxes, with a chair that folds up into a bed. It’s not as bad as it sounds, and I get a good 6 hours of sleep. Next stop Seattle.

            Or it would be if some numbnuckle didn’t want to see my ESTÁ. It’s an electronic visa to the US,  note the word Electronic. No body but lard brain wants to see it. You can’t check in to a US flight without one. I already have a boarding pass. Half an hour on the IPad to find some two year old paperwork, thanks buddy. This guy isn’t even a crazy American Homeland security dude, the're to come. Doha to Seattle, it’s a long way, we even fly straight over the North Pole. I can’t see Santa. I almost fly over my final destination, only another four and a half hours in the wrong direction.

         Trump hasn’t started arresting everybody coming to the states yet' but the last couple of times I have been here Homeland Security have given me , and everyone else a hard time.  I have screen shots on the IPad of anything I think they might ask for. Addresses, outward flight’s, reservations.  I give the agent my passport, say "I’m here for a week". He stamps it, “Have a nice day” that’s it. Seattle airport has a Starbucks,and lots of craft beer bars. Pretty much what you would expect for a tech town. I have some friends here I would love to visit, sorry next time . It’s just a quickie. 

        Four and a half hours later I’m back over Anchorage. My friend picks me up. It’s late, I’m tired, and in the wrong time zone.  Over the next week we do the sights, go south to the ski fields, then north to Wasilla. You can’t go east or west without a boat or a plane. Do some hiking, ice skating, check the museum, hang out in bars , and restaurants. Fun fact, you can’t buy beer in Alaska without I.D. My friends take great care of me. All too soon l’m back for a midnight flight to LaLa land. 

            L.A. Early morning, and it’s wet, bit strange for a place that was on fire a couple of weeks ago. I buy a tap card, hope on the bus, do Denny’s for breakfast, Pollo Loco for dinner (go the horcheta), and crash on Century Drive near the airport. Next day is a bit of a train tour down town to kill some time. That night LAX, Nandi, Melbourne here we come. I even made it out of the States without being arrested.

                Thanks to Duane and Tammy for the excellent company, and sightseeing.    Cheers 007

               Spend six weeks in Ireland in the middle of winter, I’m up for a challenge. Mind you that includes Christmas. My friend’s mother likes to cook. I like to eat, I should survive. One storm, a few sunny days, a bit of snow, a couple of road trips., plenty of good company. There it wasn’t that hard.

Slán  007

I’ve been to Turkey before and it’s one of my favourite places. The busselling craziness of Istanbul. Thousands of tourists, the madness of the grand bazar, sweeping views of the Bosphorus, the silence of Anzac cove.  When I arrive I always seem to be on the gate furthest away from immigration. Nothing like a two km walk to get that circulation back. Then after battling the metro system for a couple of hours. Guys you could try a few directions, and place names. Not every one knows where they are going. I find my friends at the Pera palace hotel. They have booked me in for my birthday. Turkish home of Agatha Christy, Ataturk, and a mirriad of others over its hundred year history.  It’s way above my pay grade. Very old world 5 star charm, with a pool, and a daily afternoon tea to die for. We are off to the Stan’s next, and don’t really know what to expect, so we live it up. Maria guides us to all the  bars, cafes, and San Sebastián cheese cake hot spots.  

            After my return from Stan’s, lm in need of a holiday.  Being  shuffled around from place go place by a guide is great, but after a couple of weeks. I need a beach to chill on. Turkey has some of the highest inflation in the world, so Istanbul can be a bit pricey if you’re not careful. Think $55 Cuba Libres, and other essentials. Time to catch the bus south. These guys have the best long distance busses in the world.  The conductor even serves free coffee, and snacks, a bit like flying in the good old days.  Izmir is the first stop, afterwards I’m thinking Mamraius and Anatolia. Izmir is a good start, quiet hotel just off the strip of bars and cafes. Loads of ferries , bit short on beaches though. Head south I thinks, but then out of the blue Thommo calls, “wanna catch up?”    Athens, been there, Slovenia, there too, How about Crete ,bingo. Six hours later I’m on a Agieain plane using  points I’d never thought I’d use, and those Euros I’ve been carting around. Heraklion, is the main town, then we head on to Chania. Finally Jill and l, hit Palaiochora, as Thommo, heads back to keep the country going. This is it, the perfect little “Mamma Mia” village with a great sandy beach, and cafes full of roast dead things as far as the eye can see. I could spend a year here.

        Ten days later it’s Turkey time again. An over night just to make sure I don’t miss my plane home,and spend all those lira that will become worthless with inflation in about a month. One last Kabab and I’m out of here.

Turkmenistan 

       This  place was defiantly not what I thought.  I’m thinking, Stan’s vibe, with a healthy dose of nutty communist monarchy. Maria has been checking the web, no makeup allowed, all cars must be white, no photos, and a pile of other crazy laws. It’s going to be interesting.

        Back to reality. Our guide Denis meets us before we get through customs.  This place only gets ten thousand tourists a year, most people who apply don’t even get a visa.  You can’t come here unescorted, guide-and driver are compulsory . Ours is a Russian Indiana Jones style fixer. First cash, we hand over $160 USD for a visa, Covid test, and something else I forget.  Fill out a few forms in some language, just tick the same boxes. Get escorted past the X-ray machine, while Denis chats to the guards. At the bag check he asks us if we have any drugs or guns. Only for Personal use. No need for this then as he waves off the bag checkers, and herds us out the door to our new country..

             Turkmenistan is one of the world’s largest gas producers. Mostly flat desert, the main thing to see in the country is an industrial accident that happened in 1973. The “Gates of. Hell” was created when a soviet drill crew stuffed up releasing a free flowing stream of gas into the air. Can’t have that, we will just set it on fire and it will burn itself out. Fifty years later it’s still going. Funnily enough it’s in the middle of nowhere, and we are only on the edge of nowhere.  More about that later. 

Click the pic.

       This one was a bit of a two day hit and run really. We leave our driver ,and walk across the border. It takes about an hour, standard one bloke stamping passports while the rest watch. Our resident Pom has to pay a hundred bucks for a visa because they don’t like poms. Seems fair. Our new fixer/guide Al, meets us on the other side. Obligatory Mosque, Pile of dirt, old dusty museum stops. The local market is great. We stock up on things for the evening meal, along with sweets, and fruit. Then it’s off to the highlight. The seven lakes.

            Tajikistan is poor, oil poor, gas poor, land poor, people poor. The smallest of the Stan’s, ninety seven percent mountains, even Ghengis Kan  couldn’t be bothered invading the place, didn’t stop the Russians though.  It’s only really exports are gold and electricity. Being mountainous  with lots of snowfall it has the best hydro resources of all the Stan’s. The Chinese are busy building stuff, and apparently Dushanbe  has a good Steak restaurant.  We don’t see it, our path takes us five hours up a rutted mining road through Taliban country. No ankles visible here. At one stage we are attacked by kids selling us locally made jewellery. Maria keeps them happy, while ten of them try to squeeze into the car to make a sale.  

         The lakes are spectacular, and our basic home stay in the mountains just about kept us alive. A quick word about Tajik wine. “Don’t ”.  The next day is the reverse of the first. Al finds us a good coffee in a hotel before we do battle with the border gods again. Two days doesn’t really do the place justice. There is some spectacular scenery to be had here.  Our guide and driver were great, giving us a bit of background to one of the lesser known spots of the world. So Tajikistan  “До свидания” until the next time.