The Detour Diaries

If you’re looking for a travel blog, you might think you’ve come to the right place! Although travel does seem to be a major aspect of my life, and the name of this blog does tend to give that impression, I hate to be the one to disappoint, but this is actually not a travel blog. This blog is just an honest recount of my adventures, both external and internal.

The Oxford dictionary describes the word ‘adventure’ as “an unusual and exciting or daring experience”. I can get lost in my own mind for hours and come back an entirely different person, or I can find myself lost in a mountain range and have to fight for my survival. I would call both an adventure. You can have a life-changing experience in absolutely any moment in your life, and that is what this blog is really about - these moments in my life. No moment is ordinary, and I invite you to follow me as I try to live life by taking every moment as a chance to change the course my life. Chances are that I’ll jump from depression to ecstasy at the drop of a hat on several occasions, and experience the best and worst of what is out there, but that’s just life, and hell, at least I’m honest.

So right now I’m traveling from Africa to South East Asia, crossing as many countries as I can slip into my route, and adding a couple of detours to delay myself from the reality at the end of this rainbow. The first country on the list was Egypt. I flew in from Cyprus, where I spent the majority of 2010.

Egypt held a first for me, I was finally successfully robbed after six years of this lifestyle. Shit happens though, I’ve said it now, no point dwelling on it.

In a word, Cairo is loud. I have never heard such incessant beeping of horns in my entire life. I will be hard pressed to find a louder place on earth. Literally a never-ending chorus of noise all day and all night. Not a single moment of silence was had during my time there. Other than the noise nothing else stands out. For the largest city in Africa, it was definitely a let down.

The pyramids however, were fantastic. Of course they were. Who doesn’t want to see the pyramids? They could have been half the size and I still would have been impressed. I hired a camel and rode around them for a couple of hours and it was like stepping back in time. I feel like everyone needs to see the pyramids at some point in their life; they are a testament to human potential and a blatant reminder that we as human beings, have the capacity to achieve the impossible.

Next on the agenda was Alexandria, but within half an hour the attitude of the locals pushed me to jump on the next bus out. I ended up spending the night in a small beach town on the north east coast of Egypt. The sunrise was spectacular. The water was a patchwork combination of both the brightest and darkest blue. This truly was a postcard-worthy paradise. Unfortunately I had no time to waste, and I was on my way into the Sahara Desert before the sun had reached full height.

I arrived in Siwa Oasis around midday and spent the rest of the day riding a bike around the many ruins and springs in the area. Siwa was much nicer and quieter than anywhere else I had been so far and it was a welcome change of pace. The food was good, the people were nice, and the dried dates were superb.

I hired a local kid and his donkey cart to take me deep into the Sahara to see ‘The Great Sea of Sand’ and to try sandboarding the massive dunes out there. I’ve seen quite a few deserts and sand dunes before, but nothing comes close to what I saw in the Sahara. An endless sea of mountainous sand dunes flowing as far as the eye can see. The particular dune I was sandboarding down was so high that to push off the edge of it was always a little nerve-wracking. The Sahara was just how I had imagined it, vast and desolate, but this desolation had a wild beauty about it. I left the Sahara feeling better than when I arrived.

It took me a few days to get to the east coast of Egypt. I travelled back through Cairo, to a town called Suez, and made my way around the Sinai Peninsula. These few days were filled with unnecessary detours, a series of Egyptians ripping me off, agonisingly long bus trips, and a whole lot of waiting around. Egypt’s infrastructure is a little rusty to say the least. I just had enough time to spend the night on the red sea and watch the sun rise over Saudi Arabia before jumping on the next ferry to Jordan.

To be honest, I was just glad to be getting out of Egypt. I’d run out of money after being robbed, and that cost me not just a trip to Mt. Sinai, but also added a day to my time in Egypt. I was glad to leave all that behind me and tackle Jordan. A new country awaited me, and that in itself was enough to put a smile on my face.

I don’t know how many times I’ll get ripped off in my life, but this trip has thus far produced the most consecutive instances in such a short amount of time than ever before. Straight off the bat Syrian immigration took Lebanon off my list of countries for this trip. Not only did they refuse to give me the free transit visa I was entitled to, but they also told me I only had one option; buy a 15 day single entry visa for $105. This automatically crossed Lebanon off the route, because it would involve paying for another Syrian visa and after what happened in Egypt, and the price of Petra, I just could not justify cutting another chunk out of my already depleted budget. 

I’m in a very travel orientated mood right now. I’m not feeling like talking about all the other stuff going on inside of me So as a result, this post is going to be strictly travel orientated. For all those who have wanted to hear more of the travel side of things, this one is for you. Enjoy. 

Syria’s reputation as a budget destination was greatly exaggerated. Either that or other people who think they have an idea of what a tight budget is, are a lot better off than I am financially. Presumably it is actually the latter. Food and transport were very reasonable, and the food in Damascus was particularly delicious and easy to come by. Hotels on the other hand, were expensive in comparison. After hours of searching, nobody was willing to budge on price, so I had to settle for an overpriced excuse for a hotel, that would have cost one tenth of the price in any other budget destination. 

All negatives aside, Syria was a beautiful country. I didn’t really have any special encounters with the locals, so I didn’t get a real chance to experience the Syrian people, which was a shame really. Since it is such a small country, all bus rides between towns I visited were short, a couple of hours at most. Compared to Jordan, Syria is a lot more diverse in my opinion. A lot greener, it has more mountains, as well as the standard desert landscape you find all over the Middle East. 

Damascus’ old city was a stunning network of alleyways and ancient architecture. I would have to say that the best part of Damascus was actually the many street- side fruit markets. I have never enjoyed cheaper or more delicious fruit in all my travels. The blood oranges and strawberries were to die for and at just 15 cents a kilogram, I could eat until I was full. A rare occasion for me. 

Homs was nothing special to be honest. Overpriced and dilapidated hotels and a couple of modern and trendy streets full of western style boutiques and ice cream parlours. But it did have some unusually delicious falafel pockets up it’s sleeve and it does make a perfect base for visiting the medieval marvel that is the Crac De Chevaliers. 

Crac De Chevaliers was a portal to a time long gone. All who have praised the medieval castle before have really hit the nail on the head. It was such a well preserved and beautiful piece of ancient ingenuity. Luckily I had a torch so I could take pitch black staircases down to explore the dungeons below the castle. 

Aleppo was the final stop on my way through Syria. I could tell that much more money had been spent on the infrastructure of this city than the rest of Syria. It was definitely a step higher in quality.  

After three years of keeping it long, I decided it was about time to cut all my hair off. I had the interesting experience of getting a haircut by a local Syrian barber, and since he didn’t speak a word of English, it took a couple of tries before he finally cut it all off. I spent the rest of my time in Aleppo exploring the ancient citadel and the maze of undercover bazaars. 

The next move was to get to Turkey. which as it turns out, wasn’t as easy as I had originally thought. After hours spent arguing with bus and taxi drivers over a decent price, I was finally squeezed into the back of a car heading to Turkey. Stuck next to all of the luggage without anywhere to put my legs, I spent the next several hours wanting to get out. There was actually a silver lining to this drive to Turkey. I made two new valuable friends along the way, who, as it turns out, were to come to my aid in a dire situation in Turkey the following day. But that story is for the next chapter. So remember to subscribe or follow me, and don’t forget to tell all your friends to do the same.  

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Until the next time readers, I bid you farewell.

A rude awakening; that’s what comes to mind when I think about my second trip to Turkey. 

 Waking up on a bus stop bench at 6am and realising that both my passports were stolen, along with the $300 I hid safely inside my jacket while I slept, will always be a memory I’d rather forget. I searched everywhere, every pocket of my jacket, every bin in sight, I even asked the only guy asleep next to me, but no cigar. No cops were on duty and I happened to be asleep in the one surveillance blind spot. Things weren’t looking good for me.

I eventually found myself in a room with a police officer who spoke no English, a suspect who had access to me while I was asleep, and the telephone number of Baris, the Turkish man I had met in the taxi the night before. As it turns out, the suspect was in the army, and this gave him instant credibility with the police officer. The odds were stacked against me but I just needed to check the guys bags. I had already searched everywhere, walked all over the bus station, and done absolutely everything I could to find my missing passports without any luck. Things were looking grim, and for the first time, I came to terms with the fact that I was flying home and this trip was over. For those of you who don’t understand why this was a trip stopping event, I’ll explain the severity of the predicament I was in. 

 First, you can’t travel without a passport, and even though I am lucky enough to have passports for two countries, unfortunately, they were both stolen, so no help there. Secondly, you need a lot of various IDs to get a new passport, IDs which I did not have. A third problem, is the fact that it takes three weeks minimum to get a completely new passport, and costs a lot of money to do from outside your own country. Lastly, and most importantly, all my visas and letters of invitation for this trip were for my stolen passport, therefore invalid to any new passport I received, which would have taken over a month to arrange again, on top of the original three weeks for the new passport to arrive.

Thus, I was left with the gut-wrenching reality of applying for an emergency passport, and booking the first flight to Australia.

I had one last chance, and that was finding my passport in this guys bag, but no one could speak English, and I knew my time was running out. The cop and the suspect were joking around now; it was clear he was about to be set free, so I played my last hand and called the one Turkish friend I had made in the twenty- four hours I had been back in Turkey.

Baris was there within half an hour. A lifesaver to say the least. I was immediately taken more seriously, I could finally talk to everyone in the room as he spoke fluent English as well as Turkish, and I was now able to search the suspect and his bags.

After a thorough search without finding a single trace of my passports or my money, I had no choice but to let the suspect go. I was discussing my options with Baris, and just as he was telling me he’d help me get a new passport, I felt something hit me from behind. I looked down and saw my passport case at my feet, with both passports and my cash intact. 

I was standing in a room with three cops, two friends, and the suspect. To this day I’ll never know where my passports came from or what happened. Whether it was a miracle, the suspect with a guilty conscience, or my own foolishness, I could never say for sure. I know a heavy passport case with cash and two passports inside it can’t appear out of thin air, but I have no other way of describing it. I wasn’t really in the mood to question it, I was too happy to care about anything else for the rest of the day. I was shaken up, but I was happy. 

After breakfast with Baris I jumped on a minibus to Kahta, where I’d try and tackle Nemrut Dag, and get my first taste of the real winter I was about to enter. 

I was told not to attempt climbing Nemrut Dag in the winter, but I’ve been told that about a lot of things that I’ve accomplished with a bit of determination and a spark of stupidity, so I assumed this would be no different.  

It was definitely when I found myself standing in front of a ‘5km to go’ sign, waist deep in snow, with no feeling left in my feet after over two hours pushing through knee deep snow, that I realised I had finally been beaten. I will admit it right here that I did not make it up to the top of Nemrut Dag. I’ve done some pretty ridiculously stupid shit and risked my life enough times to know this was very out of character for me. But seriously, when you touch your foot and you can’t feel even the slightest feeling, you’ve reached the point where another ten hours with wet and frozen feet will do serious damage and Nemrut Dag was no Mt. Fuji, so I wasn’t prepared to get stupid this time. Although climbing mountains in jeans and Nike Dunks has worked in the past for me, I may have reached the point in my life where real mountain gear should be on my shopping list.

The rest of my time in Turkey, which was fleeting, was spent seeing mediocre sights around Nemrut Dag, and spending long hours on buses as I traversed eastern Turkey on my way towards Georgia. I spent my last day in Turkey hanging out in Trabzon, and somehow managed to not see the Black Sea, and yes, I hate myself for it.

Georgia was waiting though, so stay posted to hear all about that!

I apologise for the large lapse in time between all my posts so far. I am traveling through countries where the internet isn’t the most common commodity and most websites are blocked anyway. But I promise to try to get them coming in faster if more of you start following me. Deal?

Feel free to ask me questions regarding where I go, where I stay, how much things cost, and basically any travel advice I blatantly fail to mention. I’ll try my best to reply the next time I get online.

Let me begin this chapter with a simple fact that some of you may not know yet, but something you all need to know before you can understand what I have to say.

I am out of my goddamn mind. 

Hopefully that thoroughly prepares you for these journeys through my life and my mind throughout these next few months. 

Somehow Georgia managed to impress me even though I only spent a relatively uneventful week there. As usual bad weather had followed me, so I had a gloomy grey sky and a slight downpour to welcome me to Tbilisi. Through tired eyes I took in glimpses of the city from the window of a Marshrutka. I wasn’t expecting the city to be quite as interesting as it was already looking to be. My experiences with ex-soviet cities thus far had proved unfortunate, so my hopes were lifted with every old church, house, and bridge I caught a fleeting glimpse of.

My time in Tbilisi held both beauty and darkness, and since I have sworn to write from my heart and soul, I have to include both aspects when I write about that week of my life.

When the sun finally won the war against the clouds, and I had rested to the point of recovery from the fatigue of days without sleep, I found myself wandering the streets of Tbilisi. It was one of those cities with vast contrasts, mixing the modern with the ancient, and throwing in a chunk of soviet flair into the mix. I have to say that Tbilisi had character. I am never usually a fan of cities, and very few ever spark enough interest in me to want to stick around or come back, but I thoroughly enjoyed this city. Picturesque churches clinging to cliffs and river banks, an extravagant gold touched cathedral, a tasteful modern bridge, and an interesting old town, set this place apart from other cities I’ve seen throughout Eastern Europe.

I had heard there was a holy town with an ancient church just half an hour away, so I jumped in a Marshrutka and went to check it out. As I arrived at the church complex, the most intense snow storm unleashed itself on the town, and I found myself hiding out inside the famed church during the funeral of someone important to the local people. Awkward to say the least.

It was at this point, standing in this church surrounded by death, that I started to realise I wasn’t as concrete as I had been convincing myself I was. Doubts that had started in my mind while I was in Jordan started to take shape in my mind,  and I guess that it just took a couple of blows to my esteem and a feeling of intense guilt over the loss of someone incredibly dear to me for me to fall back into darkness.

The wolves that have followed me my whole life finally caught my heels and this time I let them consume me.

“They’ve told me life is a gift, but this gift was just a curse. A burden to carry until the day I die. They say that the weak give up. I guess I was never as strong as I made myself out to be.”.

- Diary entry 03/02/11

Anyone who suffers from depression will know what it’s like. You feel the sorrow flow through your veins, it’s heartbreaking but for some reason it empowers you. Warmth spreads all through the body. It’s like giving up the fight is such a relief that whatever happens after is worth it. Suddenly nothing matters anymore and you lose all motivation to be alive. It’s an intense internal pain you can’t escape, and you convince yourself that you will never feel happiness again, but this knowledge is somehow comforting, because you no longer have any expectations.

I have never taken any drugs in my entire life, in fact, I’ve never even been drunk or tried a cigarette before, so I can’t relate the experience to any kind of drug induced state of mind, but from what I have read, it does come pretty close to a couple of the worst.

There is a silver lining to this lapse in positivity, so don’t give up on me just yet. This chapter does have a happy ending.

I’ve been dealing with this side of my life for as far back as I can remember, and although there are times when it’s all just too much for me to bear, the mind is a very powerful force, and I have learnt to harness this power. I became aware of how deep I was falling, and through the darkness I saw a ray of light, and that’s all it took for the battle to begin.

The only way to make any sense of what goes on in the mind, is to paint a picture of a situation we can imagine in our own heads.

Picture me as a child, that’s my soul. Picture depression, anger, and sadness as a massive flaming demon. Now picture my heart, strength, honour and will as a white knight on horseback with a sword of light.

My mind is a massive abyss where my soul sits suspended and unmoving in the nothingness. When certain things in my life occur, the demon will grab my soul and dive deep into the abyss with it, under the pretence that it’s protecting me. When this happens I just fall willingly, it’s easier to fall than to stand, I am not denying it. But over the years I have developed a defence; the white knight.

So back to the situation hand.

I saw this ray of light, and with that the battle began. I was thrown deep into meditation and watched as the knight and the demon fought over the child standing between them, and the deeper I dove, the more one-sided the fight became, and I awoke with a sense of warmth. A realisation that I am in control came over me and I knew that although the war was yet to be won, this victory was an important first step to recovery.

Like I said. I am out of my mind and I am insane according to the average human being living an average day-to-day life. But I haven’t lived an average day-to-day life. I wasn’t blessed with that luxury. I was born as me and it’s been years since I have thought that that is anything to be ashamed of. Everyone undergoes these struggles and battles, on different scales and in different ways.

I have just found that visualizing my mind and emotions as separate entities has helped me control and understand my own mind and put me in touch with who I am as a person. I just hope that in giving this insight into my mind and the way it works, others might relate to me and know that they’re not alone in this struggle we call life.

I was feeling like a new man as I jumped in the back of the last minivan to Yerevan, the capital of Armenia. I would be coming back to Georgia briefly on my way to Azerbaijan, so it wasn’t goodbye as I watched Tbilisi fade into the distance. I felt I was beginning yet another important chapter of my life.

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When I think back on my time in Armenia, the first thing that comes to mind are the massive snow capped peaks I wound my way through on the drive from Tbilisi to Yerevan - a short distance that seemed to triple with all the cut backs and mountain passes. It’s one of the times when Nature has clearly made its own border and we have just stuck to it. The temperature dropped to an uncomfortably cold degree and the dense snow as far as the eye could see was a clear indicator that Armenia was going to be a lot colder than Georgia had been.

To be honest, Yerevan was nothing special to look at. If the Iranian embassy hadn’t forced me to stick around for a week while they processed my visa, I would have only spent a day or two there. On top of the lack of aesthetically pleasing sights, the cold was so intense that spending time outside was too painful to enjoy anything.

Armenia however, had been on my ‘to do’ list for so long that I felt compelled to get out and see the country regardless of the cold weather. A lot of what I wanted to see wasn’t possible during winter, so I made do with what I had. My three best options were: Lake Sevan, Echmiadzin, and an ancient temple just outside Yerevan.

Lake Sevan is a vast lake about an hour away from Yerevan. It’s a particularly beautiful spot with a typical Armenian church on a hill, overlooking the water. The day was clear and the view from the church was breathtaking. I could only spend a few minutes taking it all in though, as the wind was so fierce and cold that any exposed skin felt like it was on fire, and with a temperature of -20, it’s no wonder.

Armenia is a very religious part of the world, and definitely the most dominantly Christian place I have ever seen, so I feel that this is the time for me to talk about my thoughts on the whole thing.

Echmiadzin is the Armenian equivalent of the Vatican. It’s said to be the third oldest church in the world, and the oldest still functioning church on earth. I had read a lot about Echmiadzin, and I just recently started reading the bible in my spare time in hopes of understanding why people feel the need to follow a hand- me-down book of beliefs written by men thousands of years ago when they also believed the earth was flat. So now that I was here, it was interesting to see such an ancient place of worship, built not long after the bible itself was written.

From the outside it wasn’t anything to write home about, and it was surprisingly small for such a famous church, but the interior was incredibly beautiful. The attention to detail just could not be beaten. The artworks were so intricate, along with all of the gold and silver ornaments and chandeliers. There were ancient books of the bible that had to be from medieval times encased in exquisite metal bindings placed on alters throughout the church. 

It was almost comparable to a palace fit for a king, and that got me thinking. 

If the words of the bible were actually true, then why would anyone worship in a place that that if you sold it off, could feed all the poor and needy people in town? Does that not go against the teachings of Jesus Christ? I am just speaking logically, I’m not trying to have a religious debate, that is another story for another time. But seriously, the bible is so flawed that it wreaks of man’s failings, thus my stagnant belief in my own experiences, and why I don’t find solace in the words and teachings of another man who in my opinion, has the same chances of knowing or finding the answers as me. Just using logic alone, is Echmiadzin not a clear example of how throughout history, Christianity has wasted money and resources on vain conquests and accomplishments in the name of a man who clearly would have used the same money and resources to feed and house the poor and needy? I’m sorry to all of you out there who will find offense in this, but if you break it down, Jesus was clearly what most people would call a communist, and the church is one of the first clear examples of how capitalism has raped the poor by convincing them that they have a chance to gain by allowing it; two conflicting ideologies packed tightly into one religion. It’s hard not to see the blatant hypocrisy there. 

Basically, to put it simply, if someone is going to tell you that you should worship a man who believed a rich man would never make it into heaven, you shouldn’t do it in a place that is so blatantly against every teaching that man ever taught. All I ask is to think about it, use logic and judge from your own experiences. You can learn a lot from history, you can learn a lot from other people, you can use any belief as a guide to live your own life, but at the end of the day, you can’t give yourself completely to an ideal or an idea that is not your own. 

Find your own answers.

The last on my list of places to visit in Armenia was an ancient temple from BC times. It is almost not worth mentioning as I never actually went inside it, and had to see it from a sneaky vantage point outside the grounds as I couldn’t afford the entrance fee. It was a small black temple with roman style pillars and inscriptions. It was set on a flat hilltop overlooking the surrounding mountains, and I’ll admit that if I were to make a temple back in those days, I couldn’t have picked a better spot. 

Receiving my Iranian visa marked the time to leave Armenia and head to Azerbaijan via a short detour to the mountains of both Georgia and Russia. It was a beautiful drive back towards Tbilisi - a clear day with a blue sky hanging above the snow capped peaks. I’ll always remember those mountains, that gateway to and from Armenia. 

I smiled and closed my eyes.

Although this chapter is to be set in Azerbaijan, it actually starts in the Caucasus mountains of Georgia.

I guess I should have learnt my lesson in Turkey when it seemed like I had realised that climbing mountains in jeans and Nike dunks wasn’t the best idea and I wasn’t the young and reckless teenager I once was. Unfortunately, I am also an extremely proud person, so when I was confronted with yet another ‘impossible’ challenge at the foot of yet another snow clogged mountain, I just couldn’t bear to give up again. I had come this far, I wasn’t going to let a bit of cold and lack of equipment stop me.

I was in Kazbegi, a small mountain town on the Russian border with Georgia. Kazbegi just so happens to be famous for having the single most spectacularly located church in the world. If you have ever seen a guidebook for Georgia, or even the entire Caucasus, or any travel photography of this part of the world, it is more than likely that the stand-out image was the church in Kazbegi. The biggest problem for me was that this famed church’s location was at the top of the mountain I was standing at the foot of. 

I could drag this out, and make it sound dramatic and extraordinary, but I am just not bothered. I made it to the top. I didn’t give up, I pushed on, I dealt with the cold and I let the fire inside me drive me to the top, and my god it was worth it.

The view was just stunning. I was surrounded by mountains as I stood on the snow covered peak with my arms in the air screaming out to the wilderness. Russia lay bold, beautiful, and just out of my reach before me. The church sat on the edge of a steep drop and broke the line of total wilderness with just the right amount of human intervention. The air was so intensely cold that I no longer had any feeling in my hands, but this fact didn’t deter me from taking in the view and enjoying my accomplishment.

 I took one last look down at Kazbegi so far below me, before attempting my descent. My first step resulted in a surprising situation as I found myself sliding down the mountain at high speed on my back. The adrenaline kicked in and I managed to get to my feet and descend the mountain using my shoes as skis, just as I had after summiting Mt. Fuji a couple of winters earlier. I must admit that the descent of this mountain was the most fun I had had in a long time. Screaming and laughing my way down, I felt incredible, I felt invincible, like I was capable of anything and life was a beautiful thing. Panting and covered from head to toe in snow, I made my way from the foot of the mountain into town to start heading towards my next destination; Azerbaijan.

All I wrote while in Azerbaijan was ‘I’m not happy.’

It’s amazing how the weather and my moods are somehow interconnected. I once spent a month living in London through winter, and I was thrown so deep into depression that I thought I would never see the light again. It’s like I can feel warmth pump through my body as the sun cuts through the clouds, and I can feel myself drowning as the rain pours down. It rained almost every day I was in Azerbaijan. I didn’t see the sun for a week and my mood seemed to suffer because of it. It wasn’t that I was depressed, I just couldn’t find any motivation; small and insignificant things started to bother me, and I was just generally in a bad mood all around. It wasn’t until the sun finally broke free of the clouds and pushed it’s way above Baku that I finally started to get out and explore.

I didn’t get to see as much of the country as I had planned to due to the winter weather. I spent almost the entire time in the capital city of Baku while I waited on even more visas for Central Asia. The city itself has a major oil industry, so there is a lot of wealth in Baku, which is quite apparent as you walk through the city. It’s almost like a cross between Bratislava and Dubai - mixing the old with the new, and creating one of the most interesting cities I have had the pleasure of exploring. 

 Azerbaijan is yet another clear example of the failings of ‘trickle down economics’; an economic strategy that in theory basically believes that as the rich get richer, the money will eventually ‘trickle down’ to the poor. The reality of this is far from the theory, and is clearly just another way for the rich to get richer, while the poor get poorer. 

As I just said, Baku is an extremely wealthy city filled with unbelievably wealthy people due to the oil reserves on tap throughout the area. The whole city is extravagant, with it’s elaborate fountains, spotless streets, and the extensive construction work being undertaken throughout the city. Although this makes it a beautiful place to spend your time, the living conditions of the Azeri people outside of Baku is appalling in comparison.  It’s a first world capital city for a country with third world living conditions in numerous areas. It’s clear that the wealth of Baku and it’s inhabitants doesn’t spread anywhere else in the country, and I doubt anything will ever be done about it while the richest few maintain a tight grip of power over the poor masses. 

 It’s something I think we should all be aware of, and although since next to no Azeri’s read this blog, it is up to you the reader to bring light upon these issues and take action. All over the world the richest few percent control the majority of the worlds wealth, while billions struggle to make ends meet on a daily basis. Millions die unnecessarily due to a lack of financial aid because of the selfish few who rape the world’s resources; resources that every living being on earth is entitled to a share of.

Can you look inside your heart and not feel cheated out of the world that could have been without such greed and selfishness?

It’s time to start a global change.

Whilst in Baku, it was reported that a revolution was brewing in Iran. Coincidentally, Iran was my next destination, and as the riots continued and the death toll started to rise, I started to feel anxious about leaving Azerbaijan during such an unstable time. Luckily I am a strong believer that the media is mostly just propaganda and bullshit fed to people to gain ratings and make money, just like any other sales orientated business. So with this is mind, I boarded the train to the Iranian border with more a feeling of excitement than of fear. 

 Right now I am struggling to get online as social networks such as Facebook and Twitter are banned in most of the countries I have been to, or will be visiting. Due to this, it’s hard for me to tell anyone about my blog and to let people know when I make new posts, so please remember to subscribe or to follow this blog through tumblr.

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