I've been getting a lot of questions about why there aren't more blogs. In a nutshell, I haven't stopped traveling, but I've been to lazy to type up my blog. I made it through Eritrea, and am now back in the Middle East, studying Arabic in Sana'a. The blog should be uploaded Real Soon Now. Thanks for reading. [View Full Entry]

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3:30am. A petrol station in Assab. The daily bus to Asmara is about to leave. Our entire room, sheets, mattress, etc reeked of (someone else's) sweaty penis, but I still wish I could have slept a couple more hours. We're facing a 1 ½ day journey up the Red Sea coast in August -- following the Danakil Depression, one of the hottest places in the world - until we reach the cool highlands' spring weather. It's pitch dark, but we're already sweating profusely in the absence of even the slightest breeze. Trying to lug my sack onto the bus, and simultaneously [View Full Entry]

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X tells me “Djibouti” is French for “tiny, expensive, hot, steaming pile”. I admire conciseness in a language. Night. Somewhere in the desert between Hargeisa and Djibouti. A couple of huts selling food. I am in full power-saving mode, stretched out on the tarp with my daypack under my head, eyes tightly shut and not a single muscle moving, even though I know there’s no time to sleep, even if I could manage to. My fellow-passengers are finishing up their meals and are assuming similar rest positions. X is somewhere to my left, taking full advantage of his Frenchness and talking [View Full Entry]

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The Horn of Africa. The self-declared and officially non-existent Republic of Somaliland, occupying the northernmost part of the fictitious country of Somalia. For some reason the word “warlord” pops up in my head when I hear “Somali”. Somali Warlord. Like Apple Pie. Images of brave marines killing hundreds of skinnies for every one they lose. The overwhelming and irresistible firepower of Democracy. Black Hawk Down. When I told him where I was headed my brother asked me if it was possible to find a more dangerous place. As people you meet on the street will tell you, there are 5 parts [View Full Entry]

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Perhaps the most unnerving part of entering a new country is what makes it so exciting: namely, the uncertainty. Things one has gotten used to (if only for a few weeks) can be swept aside in the few innocent steps that take you across the border. There are practical considerations: money looks different; a dollar can vary from 70 cents (Jordan) to 1.5 million (Turkey) in local currency; the food is different; the language is different; transportation, hotel, and restaurant standards change and must be re-learned. Perhaps the most important change is the renewed uncertainty of one’s position as a foreigner: [View Full Entry]

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A brothel/bar in Lalibela. 4:35am. Xavier knocks on the door: "Khwaja?" I had set my own alarm but forgot to turn it on. Good to have a travel companion. We exchange sparse words: I'm going to shit. More use of that excellent newspaper we bought. Our bags are packed and ready from the previous night. Lalibela has chronic water shortage and I haven't showered since we left Addis Ababa 6 days ago. I smell awful. X coughed all night; he's developed a dry rasping cough over the last couple of days. We went to bed around 8:30 but neither of us [View Full Entry]

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Of Lorries “Shok!” the cry goes out, and I amateurishly duck, trying to flatten myself against the roof of the truck-cum-bus. The thick branch bristling with two-inch thorn is too low, so I make a stupid face and stick out my arm to shield my face. It’s a good thing we’re moving so slowly, or this would be very dangerous, rather than adventurous. The branch knocks off the turban from my head. I’m just happy to be alive, but luckily the people in the truck following us retrieve my turban from the tree. In fact we’re traveling in a convoy of [View Full Entry]

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Aswan. Luxor. Sa’aid. Upper Egypt. Gradually increasing “African features”, and changing landscape, colors (even of clothing and houses) as we move steadily south. Even the trip from Cairo to Luxor covered more ground on the map than places that took me more than a month to travel in the fertile northern countries. Yes, in the Syrian desert I wondered at the fact that apart from the narrow fertile strip of the Euphrates it was completely empty with no human habitation and likely no potential for it either. Here in Egypt the same is true on a much larger scale. When I [View Full Entry]

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I had a clever and witty blog, all typed up on my friend's computer that I was planning on uploading, but ... something got messed up somewhere along the way with the file format and all (how I hate windows), and the file is corrupt (due to "long lines"), and so I can't upload it... I'm heading out to Sudan in a few minutes, and will be there for about a month... don't expect to receive any emails or updates from me, since it is a real 3rd world country, and I've heard reports of an hour of internet costing $15. [View Full Entry]

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"Yellow man" is (as described to me by an Israeli soldier guarding settlements in the Gaza strip) is a desultory term applied to those incapale of going beyond official doctrine and/or direct orders. He used the term in relation to paratrooper units (of the IDF), but I think Yellow Men lie at the root of the current problems in the region formerly known as Palestine. Since my last blog I've spent about 10 days in Eastern (now Jordan), and 3 weeks in Western Palestine. As the majority of the population of Jordan is comprised of refugees, I have had occassion to [View Full Entry]

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