Last trip with Baba

A 20,000 km bicycle tour returning my fathers ashes to China

Backroads of Sichuan

Posted on June 13, 2016 by bodhitree

After graduating college I spent close to a whole year traveling China with my father. It was a time when anything was better than returning to the US and contemplating the next step in life, and traveling seems to occupy those moments in my life. My father too, had plenty to escape, his health was failing and his energy to conduct his antique business had long since left him. We traveled to so many Buddhist temples and holy places that I can hardly remember which ones were interesting and which ones were more like Buddhist amusement parks . Most if not all the monasteries had long since been destroyed during the Cultural Revolution and had been replaced with flashy stucco replicas with large plastic golden Buddhas.

Native grass at 14,000 feet.

During our many temple visits we met a very interesting Tibetan teacher who became a close friend. We spent several days with him at the monastery, then invited him to our home in Guang Zhou. He had a very familiar laugh and a smile never seemed to leave his face. After my father’s death, we continued to keep in touch. He would call at 2 am California time and laugh about the time difference, and repeatedly ask when I would return to China.

Rin Chen Jer Po Rinpoche and Padma (my Tibetan name)

An offering. Rin Chen’s monastery in northern Sichuan

Rin Chen’s village, Zong Mai Xiang

After more than a year of silence, I hesitated, then called him while pedaling south through the deserts of Qinghai. He quickly remembered me and extended an invitation to visit him in Sichuan. It turned out that his home was not too far off my route so I braved a 100 km single track mountainous road to his home village.

Rin Chen making a call at the only place with service, the nearest tallest mountain pass 4,700 meters.

My friend’s name is Rin Chin Jer Po, who at the age of 19 was told by a senior Buddhist teacher that he had a strong potential in the practice of selflessness and Enlightenment. Immediately after hearing the news he decided to make a pilgrimage to India, and walked to the Holy city of Lumbini in northern India. When he arrived he met his future teacher and decided to devote his life to the study of Buddhism. After a year in India he returned to his home in Sichuan province and began to teach in China.

En-Route to Zong Mai Xiang village.

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Rin Chin’s village was almost impossible to find as it is extremely remote and not located on any maps. He gave me the name of his temple and told me that he was about 100 kilometers from a certain landmark. En-route it took me close to a whole day of cycling to and fro on a large highway looking for a small dirt road that would take me his way. Once found I quickly noticed that I would be riding on a road full of muddy pot holes, loose rocks and steep climbs. At times I doubted my resolution to visit him but continued on as he was very good to my family after my father’s death.

When I arrived at his village I spent close to an hour asking villagers about where he lived, no one seemed to have heard the name Rin Chin Jer Po. Did I pedal to the wrong place, I thought? The name of the temple was familiar to most but no one seemed to have heard the name Rin Chin Jer Po. Finally I asked a few monks at the monastery for the residence of the abbot, thinking this was his home I quickly entered expecting to see him. Instead I met a relatively large bald man with a very happy face. I apologized for barging into his home, however he seemed too surprised at seeing a foreigner that he didn’t seem to noticed that I had just walked into his home. I quickly described Rin Chin to him and made a long hair gesture as well as large earrings. He quickly knew who I was talking about and led me to his residence.

A large Tibetan meal of Blood sausage, boiled beef and beef buns. The yogurt (in bowls) was really good!

Seeing Rin Chin through his second story window brought tears to my eyes and his large smile met mine. My doubts about coming quickly vanished and I was invited into his home and treated like a royal guest. A Tibetan feast of fresh beef, yogurt, milk tea, and lots of Sampa was soon prepared and a bed in the monastery waited me. It took me a day to get used to Tibetan customs as women do everything for the men; wash their clothes, cook, serve, and prepare all the meals, wash their feet, make and serve tea the daily tea.

Preparing to eat a large bowl of butter and boiled roots, a Tibetan delicacy!!

The boiled roots are added to a large bowl of butter, the liquid butter is sipped while the roots are chewed. I must have eaten close to 3 sticks of butter. The white cheese looking like stuff is milk curds.

Spring has finally sprung at 14,000 feet.

I am headed south again, towards the province of Yunnan. It is warm, humid and rainy. Food rarely deviates from Tsampa, boiled beef and buns. My bags are full of gifts from Rin Chen and I must have at least a months worth of Tsampa and butter in a large bag.

Tibetan Plateau

Posted on June 3, 2016 by bodhitree

Chinese bureaucratic nightmare

Posted on May 25, 2016 by bodhitree

i pedaled past miles of trucks waiting to go through the border patrol.

There is little left for me to do but circle around to the western side Qinghai and hope to cross into Sichuan through the mountains. The entire southern half of Qinghai is close to foreigners. I pedaled a long 60 km into the wind to find a huge border patrol forcing me to return. I asked to speak with the superior officer and found myself in a room with several Tibetan monks sitting on the dirty floor. The superior told me the monks did not have proper identification and had been held in custody for 2 days.

I was headed south from Golmud and planned to take side roads to Yushu. I am now headed east of Golmud and hope to cross near the yellow river.

I begged the officers to let me through as this was the only southern road to Sichuan. But was repeatedly told that the road also went to Tibet and in order for me to move forward I had to have a permit! Imagine being in California and being unable to visit San Diego because the same road that took you there continued on to Mexico!

After rejoicing the end of my hardships, I am back into the cold windy desert. I will try again to find a southern passage to Sichuan. If I fail I am not sure what to do.

Land of extremes

Posted on May 22, 2016 by bodhitree

Small road house dinner, my first day in Qinghai

Home Dog Wind, from Guangxi province. He was headed north.

I am now in Qinghai province in the city of Golmud. This morning it was snowing and I looked around to see that I am surrounded snow packed mountains. It is going to be a cold ride south from here, but I hope to find shelter with locals in small villages along the way. The desert was difficult, almost everyday there was a sand storm and temperatures at night dropped below freezing. Local truck stops however carry their own special “Baijiu” (Sake) recipe, and a few sips helped warm me through the cold nights.

I am so close to Tibet, that could easily make a brief trip over there. That is… if I wanted to book a tour with a guide, confirm with hotel dates and give up my bike. It is currently impossible for anyone without a Chinese passport to enter Tibet independently. Too many protests and riots before and following the China Olympic games. In some ways it would be a sad sight to see, considering that the Dali Lhama has lived in exile since his departure in the late 1950’s.

Tibet’s Potala Palace before Chinese invasion

After

I feel strong yet confined here in China. People, pollution, traffic, noise is sometimes overwhelming and in many ways I feel that I am better of in my cold tent out in the desert. All night and day I can hear the horns from the cars outside my hotel window honking at pedestrians. Mega phones seem to be the new craze, and everywhere I go, supermarkets, side walk corners and city centers they are blasting pre-recorded loops advertising cellphones and sales. Accommodation continues to be difficult, but there is not much I can do.

It is almost June but there is still plenty of snow, cherries are in season and throughout the town there are carts selling kilos for a few cents. Flowers are blooming. I continue on.

Crawling into the Abyss

Posted on May 11, 2016 by bodhitree

Bicycle street Urumqi, getting ready for the long desolate road south

I didn’t know it at the time. But I was lucky. I left Urumqi and confidently pedaled south into the mountains. In the distance I could see a storm gathering and the once snow capped mountains were no longer visible. My cadence was sporadic, my chain just didn’t seem to stay in gear. When I got to the lower foothills I took a closer look and decided to turn back, as there was no way I could ride 350 km at my current pace. That night a snow storm covered the foothills, road and mountains and somewhere a landslide closed the main road in both directions.

A dry summit, after pedaling to the Turpan Depression, 500 ft below sea level, there little to do but go up! A long 50 km climb to the top of this pass.

After following a few Chinese cyclists dressed in Lycra, I returned to Urumqi and found the bicycle shop area. It was A long alley filled with all sorts of bikes; fat, cruisers, mountain, fixies even unicycles. By that time I knew I needed more than just a chain, so I started asking around. First shop, “no” second shop “no” third “no”. One shop owner told me that most people just buy a new bike when they need to replace a part! And asked me if I wanted to buy a new bike! Finally I came across a small roadside shop and convinced the owner to take the parts off of a bike he was selling. It took a few hours but I got what I needed and installed everything curbside.

Osh or Pilaf. The Rice a roni’s great ancestor, and large wok cooked in lamb fat, carrots, onion and garlic. 15 yen for a plate with meat, 5 yen without.

Finding a place to stay is so difficult that I contemplated pedaled back out of the city to camp. In some ways there is almost no point in asking how much a room costs as most hotels can not accept foreign guests! I ended up at another 3-4 star hotel and spent 5 days worth of food money on one night! (Couchsurfing is also a problem as most police in Xinjiang do not allow foreigners to stay with individuals). Anyhow, I spent a nice day in the Muslim district and as it was Friday, I pushed my way back into the hub of the Muslin quarter to see what prayer time was like.

Naan. Central Asian bread. A good piece of Naan is cracker like in the inside, (crispy and crunchy), and bread like (doughy and soft) on the crust. I like the thin large pieces with seseame seeds best. However sometimes I will settle for the bagel looking like ones in the middle because they are sweet! Usually around 2-4 yen a piece. Made fresh daily in a large circular oven.

Traffic was backed up for miles but I weaved in and out, and suddenly I found myself at the largest mosque in the city. The side walks were filled with men sitting, knees down on top of small, colorful, hand woven-carpets, all sitting in silence, waiting for the call to prayer. The road emptied. I watched, listened and prayed, surrounded by devotees and Chinese riot police.

Deep fried street eats. (Jie tou Xiao chi)

I don’t think anyone could say China or rather Xinjiang was dangerous There are literally police everywhere. All the bus stops, subway tunnels, intersections and gas stations have check points, and the banks, supermarkets, and hotels have guards operating x-ray machines and metal detectors. The presence is extremely noticeable in the Muslim districts and during prayer time there were fully armed riot police waiting for unrest. From what I have heard there were several Uighur riots during the Xinjiang Conflict of 2009 and 2014. Many Uighur openly feel and have expressed that Xinjiang is an independent country and that the Peoples Republic of China is occupying their land. The PRC has responded with a strong police presence and many discriminatory policies.

Uighur man chops meat for Lagh Mian

I no longer eat street meat, as I have been sick countless times. However I will still eat the meat pastries.

Somsa pastries

After Friday prayer most people return to their places of business and rest, but many go to eat! This is the norm for Muslims on Friday, as it is considered the Sabbath. Leaving the Mosque I looked for the most local “hole in the wall” Muslim restaurant I could find and quickly found myself surrounded by Uighur’s sitting at small shared tables.
Considering the situation, and how much I must have stuck out wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses, I surprisingly did not draw much attention. Ordering the norm, a bowl of Lagh Mian I had a conversation with my table mates in Veyu and Mandarin. They told me all about the riots and that the Uighur historic city of Kashgar has almost completely been rebuilt with large Chinese hotels and businesses. I was happy to tell them that I was American and wished them well, I hope that it may lead to a better reputation in the Muslim world. I get a very mixed response from the locals, they are either super grumpy like “Ramadan a full day of fasting and no water” grumpy or they are exceptionally kind. I just wish I could get an idea which is which before I connect.

Camping among the reeds. I was swarmed by mosquitoes minutes after propping up Esperanza.

Leaving the city once more I crossed paths with a few Chinese cyclists who had recently returned from Lhasa. (Another ethnic minority suppressed by the PRC). They wanted to join me on my route south but I repeatedly declined the invitation and proceeded alone. No matter how lonely the road gets I still enjoy the challenge of doing everything myself.
My new route south took me down to the lowest point in Central Asia The Turpan Depression, 505 ft below sea level. Within a 100 km from Urumqi few hours the weather became hot and dry. I camped in a small oasis areas but found the ticks and mosquitoes almost unbearable.

Turpan Depression, in some areas there is literally a large hole in the ground

As many times as I have visited China I still find myself completely amazed by the size, traffic and population of the cities. On some days I come across cities tucked away behind step mountains in the far remote corners of the province, completely surrounded by desert. The cities are usually more like “towns” as it is not uncommon to hear someone say “You know… this is not really a city its more of a town…. the population is small maybe about about 700,000 to 1 million people”. These “towns” are being developed at an extremely rapid rate, with large apartment buildings, hotels and universities. From a far I can almost always spot a few cranes and soon to be future apartment buildings. I sometimes wonder, with still so much development how can the economy be doing so bad?

King of the road. Just another day at a Chinese intersection. There is no country other than maybe the Philippines that is like this. The traffic lights are considered a “suggestion”.

I am currently in the city of Korla (just below the Tian Shan mtns) headed south east to Chengdu, Sichuan. There is very little in terms of services between here and there.

I leave tomorrow for a long trip through the desert. The Qinghai city of Golmud is 1,100 km from here and I hope to be there in less than 2 weeks.

Korea in retrospect

Posted on November 17, 2014 by bodhitree

Night views of Gyeongju

I really lucked out on boat last night! Trying to find the correct terminal to check Gabriella, I ran into the owner of a limousine service who bought me dinner and upgraded my ticket to first class!! Instead of sleeping in a mixed dorm room with 12 other travelers I had a large room with a double bed, small kitchenette, T.V and bathroom all to myself. Unfortunately the journey was only a few hours, making it really difficult to leave the comfort of the suite for the cold, rainy Fukuoka morning.

Setting up camp at the ferry terminal in Japan

Setting up camp at the ferry terminal in Korea

My plans for visiting the beautiful Korean island of Jeju changed when I noticed that November is quickly coming to an end, leaving me with little over a month before heading back to the states for the holidays. Korea, besides being one of the most populated countries in the world, was especially bike friendly! Bike paths can literally be found everywhere and when pedaling on the highways vehicles usually pass with care. The traffic light system is also designed in a (rather annoying) overly cautious manner where 5 seconds will pass between a red light and the green! Making maters worse intersections are usually devoid of sensors, which leads to huge traffic jams during rush hour. During this time I see many vehicles do what I call a “Korean U-Turn” where drivers will often turn around near the intersection at a red light and try to drive into nearby drive way to avoid waiting at the signal.

East Asia’s oldest observatory

The mix of people and openness of elders was also quite interesting, especially in the countryside where I was often lectured and sometimes even scolded by elderly women for the following:

1. Not wearing warm enough footwear/clothes. (Sandals are a definite no-no)

2. Camping in the wilderness (they said this will make my mother and father worry)

3. Not eating the correct food (“kimchi and noodles everyday will make you weak and eventually sick”)

Luckily my Korean and their English was extremely limited so the top three pretty much sum up the conversations of many encounters.

Morning view from my wild campsite

While pedaling through the more inhabited regions I would often set up office at a Starbucks or McDonald’s, which always has free internet and unlimited hot water. The Starbucks’ in Korea almost always take up two floors. The bottom floor is usually empty, and at first you think that you are the only customer. That is until you go up the stairs and see that almost every seat is filled with Koreans on their laptops or cellphones. No one speaks and it’s almost as if you are on the silent floor at the local library.

A very early Korean Pagoda

I must say though that, one could visit Korea solely on the purpose of frequenting the public bath houses (Jim Jill Bang). I stayed at a few of these during my visit, usually pedaling into the city in the late afternoon and asking a local to point me in the direction, (Jim Jill Bang Odi Soy Yo). Almost every major city will have one and on all three occasions I have never seen another foreigner inside. It usually costs less than $10 to; bath using 3 different shower set ups (standing, siting and tub), soak in 3 different pools (very hot, warm and cold), sauna, steam and sleep in a warm wooden room near a wood burning stove. Home cooked food is usually available, but sleeping can sometimes be difficult as cellphones frequently ring at odd hours during the night.

Ancient Confucian academy Gyeongju

Before pedaling to Busan (where I took the ferry to Fukuoka) I spent 4 days exploring the ancient Korean capital of Gyeongju. During Korea’s dynastic period, Gyeongju was the main city in Korea, with 5 different Dynasties calling it their capital. Throughout the city there are hundreds of landmarks ranging from tombs to temples to ancient villages. There are also lots of examples of early works of Buddhist art fabricated at the time when Buddhism was spread to Korea by the Chinese Tang dynasty (early 7th century C.E). The Koreans at this time also adopted Confucianism as well as the Tang Clothing style. Many of the giant tombs in Gyeongju contain Chinese board games, pottery and jewelry.

Tang clothes style adopted by the Koreans in the early 7th century C.E

Royalty were buried inside these mounds of dirt

Gyeongju bridge day

Night

On my last day in the ancient city, I made friends with a “Miss Kim“, a Korean lady in her 80’s who claimed the title of Kimchi master! This is a pretty bold statement in a land of cabbage but I took her word for it as she gave me a tour of the different types brewing in large plastic tubs in her yard. Like my grandparents in Los Angeles (who always adopt and use the latest piece of technology) she boasted that she gave up using the classic black ceramic kimchi pots because she wanted to introduce a new style of fast/flash fermenting, and plastic tubs warmed faster during the day. I tried all different flavors and even drank her home-brewed soy sauce and miso paste.

Chopped daikon kimchi

Fermenting soy beans

A few months later Soy Sauce

Whole Daikon soaking in salt water

I got totally lost following a bike path headed for Busan and ended up in the center of one of Korea’s largest cities, Ulsan. Aimlessly, I pedaled for close to 45 minutes, taking steep walkways to underground shopping malls and pedaling roads built on bridges that seemed to lead to the heavens. As it got dark, I gave up and decided to fill up my stove and cook dinner in a park. My luck quickly changed at the gas station where I befriended an employee who gave me fruit, crackers, vitamin drinks, gloves and 20,000 won ($20).

Old style Kimchi ceramic pots

20,000 won goes fast in a Korean grocery, store especially when you buy foreign goods! For the first time in a very long time I bought peanut butter, jelly and gummy bears! I was so excited that I woke up several times at night to eat a few bites of peanut butter, and chew on a gummy or two.

Overall I would have to say that the same mechanism that led me like Korea, has also made me dislike it. Many people seem to be stuck in social constructed norms, where situations that don’t fit in with their daily routine are often ignored. This can be said for many countries but it was very noticeable in Korea. I found that many people will ignore me when I ask for directions on the street. If I speak to them in Korean or pronounce a destination in Korean they will tell me that they don’t speak English and walk away. It seems that they would rather ignore than to confront a new situation. Being ignored is great when you are camping in the central park but when you are lost it’s frustrating.

Busan port, so long Korea

Even with these constrictions I met many great and hospitable people, and hold a high regard for Korea. It was an interesting experience traveling there, and I am interested in how Japan will compare.

Confucian temple Gyeongju

Time to find a place to set up my tent in the busy city of Fukuoka! I looked at a few hostels but they are all located up several floors in large buildings with small stair cases/elevators and it just too much work to carry Gaby all the way up to a cramped dorm room for one night. Prices are also pretty steep here so I rather save a few Yen for more peanut butter and gummies.

-Julian

Kazakhstani Desert Nomads

Posted on August 29, 2014 by bodhitree

It is 45C. A dry hot dusty wind dries your mouth, nose and eyes. You try to swallow and clear your throat but your saliva has long since evaporated. Your teeth crack as there is sand and dust between then, and your body radiates the immense heat absorbed from the sun. It is over a hundred and fifty miles in each direction to the nearest source of water, food or shelter. Your bike is extremely heavy with several days of food and over 15 liters of water. These thoughts are at first comforting but after a few kilometers of pedaling know that in this environment the water will only last you at most 32 hours. You can not over exert yourself, because if you get too hot these is no shade to cool you off, but you must keep pedaling to survive. (An average day in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan)

A long desert road

My journey through Kazakhstan was quite challenging. In the 5 days it took me to pedal to the Uzbekistan border I pedaled through the most difficult terrain I have ever encountered. Immediately upon waking on my first day, I was engulfed with dry hot desert winds, and a sun so strong you feel like you are an ant in a child’s sandbox, seconds away from being torched with a magnifying glass. I have never been so thirsty in all my life, and I have really come to respect water as by far our most precious natural resource. The distance between towns and villages is daunting and can be as much as 200 miles on a dusty potholed road covered in a foot of powdered sand. The average daily temperature is close to 45 C, and there is little more than a concrete pipe to give you respite from the sun. I carry between 15-20 litters of water daily, but I can’t seem to consume enough water, I haven’t pee’d in days. I am haunted by the memory of my brother and I’s pet frog Samson, who we left outside in a small cage with little water during a summer weekend. We returned to find nothing more than a dried carcass.

Yes…These is a lot of water strapped on to that bike! A hidden 10 liters under the white bag

Chaihana, local tea house that sells water 3x the price of gasoline

After arriving at Aktau, the port city in Kazakhstan, I suddenly started having diarrhea, at first I figured it was my body, too scared to attempt cycling through Central Asia, trying to get me to give up, but it continued for close to a week. After a few days I debated taking antibiotics, I have a whole arsenal of intestinal chemotherapy, but every time I consume them they make me so weak that I can barely cycle for several days after a normal dose. Between being weak and having diarrhea I chose the latter and frequented all sorts of absolutely disgusting outhouses! However as foul and disgusting as they are, it sure beats digging a hole squatting in the hot desert sun!

The cleanest toilet in Kazakhstan

There is something very unique about the Central Asia environment, the land between the Caspian sea and Central Uzbekistan (my current location) is completely devoid of life. In the evening, when the sun finally goes away for a few hours, it is absolutely silent. Scorpions prowl the evening sands and eat the moths that are attracted to my cooking stove and headlamp. I have never know such affectionate creatures as they like to cuddle and sleep next to me under my tent. Each morning I pack my tent only to find several underneath. In the morning lizards and geckos come to eat the flies that have gathered to drink my toothpaste water, and ants carry away my littered bread crumbs. In 2008 I visited the Chinese Central Asian province of Xinjiang during August, and I clearly remember the difficultly in handling the dry heat even when traveling around in an air-conditioned automobile! It is easy to get in a bad mood, and keeping a positive attitude is the key to survival here. You can not freak out about the heat or not having enough water! Otherwise you might as well hitch hike or take a bus because you will never make it! You can’t change your surroundings but you can always can change the way you look and relate to them.

The best time of day!

House in remote desert village

I have never been so happy to see fruits and vegetables! The only produce market in 500 miles. Beyneu

Occasionally I encounter wild camels (who can survive for a minimum of 15 days without water). They wander about the desert in the hot in sun, and often wake me at dawn trying to eat my tent or panniers. The word for tree in Russian “Derev’ya” is almost as useless in Kazakhstan as the word for snow in Arabic, “Thalj” they don’t exist! Shade can be found when you are passed on the dusty road by a large semi truck, or inside a cement drain pipe, other than that there is no choice but to handle the heat. Pedaling at night is always an option but the roads are very busy as soon as the sun goes down. It seems that most vehicles out here are not equipped with air conditioning making the day time too hot for a commute.

True desert nomad, I offered him a bottle of water but he told I would need it more than him! He had holsters on his saddle one for water one for vodka

Kazakhstani’s are extremely friendly and seem to be very curious of my travels. There are few that venture out into the desert herding sheep with nothing more than a bottle of water and vodka. These are known as the “Kochevnik poustynya” Desert Nomads. These nomads make me feel like baby as I pedal past with a bike loaded with 15 liters water. Life is definitely possible out here, but very difficult. I talked with a domestic tourist in the city of Beyneu and he told me that the USSR used to send criminals to these parts of Kazakhstan as the temperatures can be as hot as 50C in the summer and -50 C in the winter. Locals don their own form of the Arab kefiye, and often make masks out of old tee shirts to protect their faces from the sun. At first it was a bit scary coming across these locals in masks because they also often wear sunglasses making them look a lot like the scarecrow in Batman, but they are usually yelling hello and jumping up and down trying to grab your attention.

Local with sun mask

Local Kazakhs these guys do not speak Chinese

I know that the heat will eventually die down, but right now life if really difficult on the road. On one occasion a trucker gave me a half-drunken bottle of Fanta, rather than discarding this precious sugary liquid I boiled it and cooked oatmeal in it. Pretty disgusting but it’s food. I entered Uzbekistan 2 days ago and have only passed 2 villages, a part of me wants to take it easy and rest all the time, the other part wants to haul ass and get out of this desert hell. Days are torn between the two. My mind is strong and I continue on….

Deportation and Uncertainty in the Azerbaijan capital

Posted on August 17, 2014 by bodhitree

“Here sign this” the government official said, “It is an official writ of deportation”, “Once you sign you will be deported to Kazakhstan and will be banned from returning to Azerbaijan for 2 years”……

An predawn stroll through Baku’s old city

I am officially being deported from Azerbaijan! Unfortunately, upon entering the country I wasn’t informed of the tourist registration law. (All tourist must register at hotels, guest houses or police stations within three days). Arriving in Baku I quickly learned the unwritten rule from some unlucky tourists who had been fined 300 euros each and had missed their departing ferry to Kazakhstan. According to their story there was no way to avoid a 300 euro fine and it seemed that I was pretty much fucked! The words of the 14th century Moroccan traveler Ibn Battuta echoed in my head, “It is better to negotiate your fate voluntarily, than to be coerced into service”. I decided to travel to the Regional Migration Department, and see if there was anything I could do to avoid the hefty fine.

Ateshgah, Zoroastrian fire temple, Baku outskirts

A tribute to the everlasting flames that were once worshiped here. In the early 1900’s Azerbaijan learned that money could be made from their natural gas source, the true spirit and flames of the temple never returned

After an hour of standing in random lines and trying to find an official that spoke English I was directed to a small interrogation room with several military personal. I explained my situation and pleaded that a 300 euro fine would completely ruin my pilgrimage. After talking amongst themselves in Azeri, the official who spoke the best English produced a contract written entirely in Azeri. “Sign this” he said, “It is an official writ of deportation”, “Once you sign you will be deported to Kazakhstan and will be banned for 2 years from returning to Azerbaijan”…..”But no 300 euro fine”.

Downtown bazaar hours before opening

Caucasus style mosque

Baku is a mix between Dubai and Paris, but lacks the fragrance of a historically epic metropolis. Flame shaped skyscrapers, visible from miles away pinpoint downtown. Towering J.W Marriot, Hilton and Ramada hotels provide afternoon shade near the Caspian Sea boardwalk. City water fountains provide evening entertainment by showering streams of water to the accompaniment of Tchaikovsky.

Downtown is composed of designer clothing stores, McDonald’s, KFC and exotic automobile showrooms. It is impossible to find anything not overpriced as even bottles of water marked at 0.5 manat will cost 1. The city is undergoing a rapid change as it has recently been awarded the opportunity to host the Euro Games in 2015. Large landscaped medians adorn colored flower arrangements with EUROGAMES 2015 clearly written in the patriotic colors of the country flag; blue, red and green.

A once underwater coral reef, Qobustan was inhabited thousands of year ago.

My first few days moved about and wandered through the daytime heat. It is at night that this city truly comes alive. Clubs, bar and restaurants open their doors as the streets quickly become crowded with a multicultural hodgepodge. Like a Christmas pine taken from the wild to a suburban living room, the old city becomes completely illuminated taking on an ephemeral beauty, broken only by the radiance of dawn.

How difficult I have found Baku. If I could I would re-name the city Al Sa’Ab taken from the Arabic word MEN Al SA ‘AB meaning “troublesome”. I have found most of the residents in poor moods and the first few days I shuffled between residences looking for a mellow place to lay my head while waiting for my Uzbekistan visa. After my second attempt I gave up on Baku and cycled 60 km south to a primitive man site called “Qobustan”. There I found a secluded rock cave and carrying close to 20 liters of water camped inside for the duration of 3 days. A real retreat, I wandered about the desert, meditated, read and wrote tirelessly in my journal.

I then pedaled back to Baku only to find that my visa was still not processed, however my luck changed as I met a Pakistani man working in the city who invited me to stay at his apartment. We became good friends and he invited me out to dinner with his friends, bought me food for the road and gave me new clothes. Thanks Cay Jay!

Cay Jay Pakistani friend working in Baku

I met a few British expats who waited in Baku for 13 days each day expecting a Uzbek visa only on the last day to give up and travel through Kazakhstan. Today marks a full week that I have been on the western edge of the Caspian sea and I am disappointed at my situation. Tomorrow I will go to the Kazakhstan embassy and apply for a 30 days visa, if the Uzbekistan visa does not come through by Wednesday I will pedal the length of Kazakhstan (2,700 km of desert) to the Kyrgyzstan capital of Bishkek. I will write again as soon as I know my plans. -Julian

Uncovering Azerbaijan

Posted on August 10, 2014 by bodhitree

“Allahu Akbar” the Imam shouts. It is afternoon prayer and I am standing foot to foot in a long horizontal line at the local mosque in the old Azerbaijani capital of Gabalar. My sandal tan sticks out among pale feet and I bring my right arm over my left in the first standing position of prayer. “What are the Arabic words to the Fatiha again” I ask myself, for some reason all I can think of is the Pali Buddhist chants I had become so accustomed to as a child, “Namo Tassa Bhagavato, Arahato…” “No no no…wrong chant” “Wrong god” I could almost imagine the Imam calling out to me. Focus. I had come to the Mosque to meditate and to be away from the constant bombardment oflocals, but oddly enough had arrived minutes before prayer. Now at this time any place in the city would be more secluded than where I was. “OK” here we go……

Bismillahi-r Rahmanir-Rahim Al-hamdu lillahi Rabbilalamin Ar-Rahmanir Rahim Maliki yaumi din…..

Oldest Caravansari in Azerbaijan located on the silk road

After pedaling underneath a large sign that read “Azerbaijan Border Good Luck”, I handed my passport to three or four officials before finally being allowed through. Other than the long line of cars with Azer license plates waiting to enter Georgia, there were no dramatic changes. I had chosen the northern border as the roads were said to be less traveled offering a better glimpse at a remote life style. The towering snow-capped peaks, so frequently found in Georgia had disappeared and now all mountains were barren and dry like those found near the deserts of California. Farmers harvesting crops waved and whistled as I passed, and I dodged groups of cows and sheep heading towards the tall grass of a nearby field. I stopped at a small village town and picked up supplies for dinner. My eating habits are best compared to that of an ant; when I find food I like to carry it back to my tent where I can enjoy it in my own space.

Local Azerbaijan boys selling hazel nuts on the road side

The first thing that I noticed was that everything in the grocery store is expired. The challenge therefore became finding the items that had only expired recently. Dairy products, which are mostly sold over the counter (meaning you cannot personally inspect the expiry dates), can be as much as two months expired, and you really have to be adamant about getting the grocer to dig deep within the refrigerator to find something that has only recently expired. Bottled water, also a strange thing to inspect expiry dates, but very few locals buy water in containers larger than 500ml, yesterday I bought a 5 liter bottle that had expired 6 months ago, at first this didn’t bother me until I found jelly fish like algae growing off of the bottom. As a general rule of thumb, if what you are looking for is kept in a refrigerator it is likely to be expired and its cold environment is keeping it from stinking up the store. Raisins, apricots and nuts will almost all contain worms or other strange like creatures, so like being in England during the middle ages, boiling everything!

Azerbaijanis are into their compote, here is a road side assortment

The once quiet northern border road eventually joined with the southern road and all hell broke loose on the tarmac. The road remained the same a two lane highway (one lane in each direction) with very little shoulder, but with the increased number of vehicles, an invisible third lane for passing appeared. Regardless of direction autos would speed pasted slower vehicles into the center of the road pushing the oncoming traffic into the shoulder and sometimes off of the road. There doesn’t seem to be any concern of having a head on collision, and I am often pushed off of the shoulder by an oncoming car. It is an absolutely terrifying experience! I sometimes have to play chicken with the oncoming cars so that they will give me space in my lane. The nicer the vehicle, the faster and more careless the driving. It is almost as if all Azerbaijan drivers are teenagers who have just received their license, they are completely ignorant of the dangers associated with their driving. If that is not enough I often see vehicles that seem to be driverless, only as it gets closer do I see an adolescent, barely able to see over the dashboard, speeding down the road. Police vehicles are ever-present but don’t seem to do much except throw their trash out their windows, and flag passing vehicles with long red poles to cite seat belt violations.

Roadside butcher, this guys sliced this bull up in minutes

Because of the cost and extreme difficulty in getting a tourist visa, locals rarely see foreigners, making their behavior quite annoying. The annoying whistle that I experienced so often in Albania is back, as well as the friendly honk. On a given day I am honked and whistled at least 50 times, almost to the point where I want to wear ear plugs. Just like in Albania if a local whistles at you and you don’t look in their direction they will continue for a while as if there is some sort of important message they are trying to convey. I often tell locals, that I am from Canada to see how the results will vary. If I say I am from Canada, the Azerbaijanis will tell me how much they like American movies, cowboys, Hollywood, “Have you ever seen a movie stars” etc. If I tell them that I am from the States they will tell me how much they dislike the politicians as well as American foreign policies. I guess it is best to say that I am from Canada and talk about how great American movies and movie stars are.

Azerbaijan fruit roll-ups

Overall the country is very expensive, and the local currency: the Manat has the same value as the Euro. Fruit, vegetables these staples are still rather cheap but bread, pasta, rice and other carbo rich sources are often several manat. A big change from the cheap and plentiful Georgia. A days ration of water can sometimes cost me close to $4, depending on what stores I pass. Some venders try to sell water at a price higher than gasoline! The heat and the road conditions make traveling difficult along with the long distances between cities.

The last 150 km stretch before Baku

The real feeling of Azerbaijan, being in central Asia didn’t set in until about 150 km from Baku. All of the sudden the farm country and oak tree forests gave way to a vast and almost inhabitable desert. A dry dusty head wind deterred my path and the minarets looked like large ice cream cones stuck out in the horizon. There is no hidden place to park ones tent out here and I must climb the steppe before being out of view.

Fresh from a water bottle shower, camping under a canopy of invasive species

60 km from Baku I pedaled through an unexpected oasis, by oasis I mean a large group of tamarix trees. I was too hot and dry to continue but had little more than 2 manat in my pocket, my dirty and sweaty appearance won me over some tomatoes, bread and a half price deal on a 5 liter bottle of water. I then pushed Gaby through a tumble weed ravine to find a spot of shade to sleep in. Alone and cool at last, I spent the rest of the day resting to the sound of the desert winds rattle the trees.

Azerbaijan, the small bit on land on the left is the infamous Nagorno karabakh region, claimed by both Armenia and Azerbaijan

I have just arrived in Baku, and not sure if the allure of the city is due to it being at the end of a 100 mile desert road. I will be in the city for several days awaiting my Uzbekistan visa, and will post again before I depart for Kazakhstan.

Posted on July 18, 2013 by bodhitree

Dragon fly in the Louisiana sunset

Two hard days of riding to Louisiana. Leaving Conroe, TX I hitched a 30 mile ride on the interstate with a moving truck. The hold was empty except for 3 passengers who were found found lounging on rugs drinking beer and smoking. I lifted my bike to the hold and joined them in their celebration. These guys had just finished moving furniture from Conroe to Seattle and could now rest for a few days in their home state. I pedaled 75 miles from Cleveland to Beaumont. East Texas is a whole different country. Culture, climate and landscape, welcome to the swamp, and say hello to your friendly African-American neighbors. Except for the police force the whole city of Beaumont and Port Arthur were black, and super friendly. As smelly and as homeless as I look, women in grocery stores asked me about what I am cooking for dinner, tough looking guys in lowered cars blasting music stopped and ask me about where I am from.

Pedaling through swampland, east Texas

In Beaumont I slept in the park next to the police station and was devoured by mosquitos every time I left my tent. Mosquitos are so localized in the grassy areas out here that I ate a can of cold beans in my tent to escape the wrath. For the second night in a row, it poured all night, I slept in bouts in a 80 degree steam bath under the tent fly.

The Gulf of Mexico

High hopes! I will be officially out of Texas today! All I have to do is ride to the coast, and take the side roads to Louisiana. Easier said then done. I rode 30 miles on the interstate with a constant Mantra about cars abd trucks ” That was close, its ok, keep pedaling, you are almost there”. I struggled at times to keep my bike going in a straight direction,and was thankful when I got to Port Arthur. When asking for directions I made the mistake of saying that I was going to “Louisiana”. “Oh you’re going to Louisiana, I have been there, this is what roads I take to get there” local after local told me. After crossing the suicidal “rainbow bridge” I pedaled 15 miles in the direction of the interstate. “FuCK”!!! “You have to turn around and ride that brige back out of town”!!

The rainbow bridge, the return side did not have a shoulder

At the apex shoulder not bad on way into Bridge city

After cycling back over the “rainbow bridge” I got back on the correct road and headed south out of Port Arthur. During my first 30 miles of Louisiana I encountered a 40 mph head wind and constant showers. I passed through Holy Beach which was leveled by hurricane Rita, and boarded the ferry to the city of Cameron, LA.

Before the storm, riding the ferry into Cameron

Levee and an old bridge

After perusing dollar general and buying a 2 dollar snickers ice cream bar I pitched my tent behind the local church. Rain soaked the rest of my dry clothes and I slept like a spider between the pools of water in my tent.

Gator season, I saw at least twice this amount dead on the side of the roads out here

Gator season, I saw at least twice this amount dead on the side of the roads, these are killed ofr their tails and hide.

92% percent humidity! Once sweating your clothes don’t dry. When you get off your bike to ask for water people think that you fell into a pool! I am sweating so much that my saddle and handle bar tape are bleeding into my clothes and it looks like I poo’ed in my pants!

Casting a big line, waiting for some blackened catfish

Casting a big line, waiting for cajun cooked catfish

I am in Pecan Island, LA! The whole area is surrounded by swamps and marshes. Several years ago some of the locals broke a levee so that their houses would have an ocean front. I am heading New Orleans tomorrow, a few days in the French Quarter, and a stroll on Bourbon street will be my last resting point before heading off to Norway.

40 mile head winds it took me an hour and a half to cycle ten miles

40 mile head winds it took me an hour and a half to cycle eight miles