Ukraine, Iraq, Iran, etc - bennedich
I take a one month vacation in order to relax a little before I emigrate to USA. The idea is to head to Iran and visit some friends on the way.

My last day in Oslo
Oslo, Norway
My last day in Oslo is a bit hectic. I have a lot of things to pack and finish and the situation at work is just chaotic. For the second day in a row, I work until 7am and wake up to continue at 11am. "Are you taking the weekend off?" a woman asks me in the elevator as I enter with all my luggage. "I'm moving to USA" I reply "And I won't come back."
My office the night before departure.
written by  bennedich on December 4, 2008 from Oslo, Norway
from the travel blog: Ukraine, Iraq, Iran, etc

A night in Prague
Prague, Czech Republic
I have a one night stopover in Prague and am staying with a Mexican guy named Eduardo. He studies "relaciones internacionales" and went to the same school as me in Mexico! After having slept 4 hours a night for the last two nights, I hope to get some sleep... but Eduardo has other plans. He takes me sightseeing in the middle of the night then we head out to a bar where we meet up with his girlfriend and have some drinks. We get back home at 3.30am and set the alarm for 6am in order to catch my early morning flight to Kiev.
written by  bennedich on December 5, 2008 from Prague, Czech Republic
from the travel blog: Ukraine, Iraq, Iran, etc

Meeting up with Rostik
Kiev, Ukraine
Rostik, my ex-colleague from Oslo, meets me at the airport in Kiev. We go to his place to dump my luggage then we head out sightseeing Kiev. It's a beautiful city, similar to Minsk but the buildings are even larger here. It's also really cheap, much thanks to the economy crisis. In the evening we play poker and drink honey pepper vodka with Rostik's flatmates and we go to bed at around 2am.
People dancing in the metro station.
Chicken and vodka with Rostik's flatmates.
written by  bennedich on December 6, 2008 from Kiev, Ukraine
from the travel blog: Ukraine, Iraq, Iran, etc

Sightseeing Kiev
Kiev, Ukraine
Today I was supposed to go to Chernobyl, but the trip got canceled. Instead we spend the day sightseeing Kiev. In the evening we play more poker and drink cognac from Rostik's hometown.
Me in front of a medium range nuclear missile.
Rostik eating Ukrainian borscht.
Memorial for the great famine in which 4 million Ukrainians died.
written by  bennedich on December 7, 2008 from Kiev, Ukraine

Leaving Kiev
Kiev, Ukraine
A snow storm hits Kiev and we mostly stay at home. I buy a new 70 l backpack at the market (for 16 euro), so now I can carry 135 l in total. In the evening I fly to Ankara and meet up with my friend Eda who visited me in Oslo a few months ago.
Close to Rostik's house.
written by  bennedich on December 8, 2008 from Kiev, Ukraine

Sightseeing Ankara
Ankara, Turkey
We sleep until late and spend most of the day sampling Turkish food and drinks. We visit Eda's university and the Attaturk Mausoleum. Apparently I bring the bad weather with me as it snows for the first time of the year. In the evening I order some kind of meat kebab on the street. The street vendor asks me why Turkey is not allowed in the EU. I tell him and he starts chopping the meat. As I eat I notice he starts laughing. Eda says to just keep eating and she'll tell me later what's up. And later she explains "This meat is prohibited in EU. It's made from part of animal where shit goes through."
Snow and sun, close to Attaturk's Mausoleum.
Eda's study.
written by  bennedich on December 9, 2008 from Ankara, Turkey

Ankara and Diyarbakir
Diyarbakir, Turkey
Today we visit a huge mosque and a castle overlooking all of Ankara. I tell Eda about my plans to go to Diyarbakir (city in eastern Turkey) and Iraq and she says "Yeah. Good luck with that." and she shows me a website with recent terrorist attacks in Diyarbakir. Eda thinks I will die before I reach the Iraqi border. Or at the very least at the border itself. But she gives me some advice: "Don't ever mention the word 'Kurdistan'. You'll get into trouble."
Due to religious holiday Bayram I'm not able to find someone to stay with in Diyarbakir and have to check into a hotel. I'm very disappointed to have to pay for accommodation for the first time in 41 nights. At the kebab place around the corner from my hotel I happen to sit down next to Bivar, an Iraqi Norwegian guy who's heading to Iraq tomorrow morning. He's already arranged a driver and everything and offers me to go with him to Dohuk. It wasn't where I intended to go, but he tells me he'll visit his old refugee camp and some other places along the way, so it sounds too interesting to say no. We leave tomorrow at 11am.
Mosque in Ankara.
View of Ankara.
written by  bennedich on December 10, 2008 from Diyarbakir, Turkey

Entering Iraq
Dihok, Iraq
Bivar calls me at 10am and says the car is outside my hotel and we have to leave immediately. I sit in front and Bivar goes in the back with some luggage and a wife. We make several stops along the way to eat, drink tea, take photos and visit historical places. As we arrive in Silopi close to the Iraqi border we have to stop to empty all the gasoline from the car since we risk being charged with smuggling if we enter Iraq with too much gas. After Silopi there are several kilometers of trucks lined up waiting to cross the border. Bivar tells me they can wait here for weeks. A few hundred meters before the border we run out of gas. Bivar swears at the driver as he gets out to push the car towards the border while Bivar leans forward to take the wheel.
The border basically consists of two parts: leaving Turkey and entering Iraq/Kurdistan. When leaving Turkey I am called into a small office and questioned about my motives. Bivar comes with me and has prepared a story about how we know each other from Norway and how I come to visit this area for socio-anthropological reasons. After 5 minutes we're done, and after 20 more minutes our driver comes running with a PET bottle of gasoline and we continue to Iraqi immigration. Bivar knows one of the border guards there (the one with me in the picture) and we're treated tea while we're waiting for immigration to process our passports. Everything is very smooth and we're on our way within minutes.
We continue to Dohuk where I am at the moment. Tomorrow I will do some sightseeing here and then continue to Erbil. Non-Iraqi SIM cards do not work here so I've bought an Iraqi one and my number is +9647709142398.
Wall in Diyarbakir. Supposedly the world's second largest wall.
Graves of Mem and Zin in Cizre, the original Romeo and Juliet.
Noah's ark came to rest on top of this mountain.
Emptying gas.
Many kilometers of trucks waiting to enter Iraq.
Bivar and wife drinking tea at Iraqi immigration.
Me at the Iraqi border.
written by  bennedich on December 11, 2008 from Dihok, Iraq

Mohammed Mohammed
Arbil, Iraq
Wow... what a day. I wake up in Dohuk without electricity. There's extreme power shortage in Iraq so this is normal. I do some sightseeing and try to look for an ATM but people I ask just look at my visa card as if they've never seen one before. I have euro but not a lot so I would have preferred to save it, but now I have to change it on the street. I get 76000 Iraqi dinars for 50 euro.
I meet a guy on the street called Steve. He describes himself as a warrior from Mosul. He has two scars across his face and speaks with authentic American accent, although he's a Christian Iraqi and never left the country. He shows me pictures of him and American soldiers. He's like 8 years old. Or 11 at most. He shows me around for a while and helps me arrange a shared taxi to Erbil. I stick him a 1000 dinar banknote for his help. He hugs me and says "keep it real man".
The taxi to Erbil is 2.5 hours and 20000 dinars. There are no buses in Iraq. Bivar told me to stay away from Mosul if I wish to leave Iraq alive. The taxi basically circles Mosul, 20 kms from the city. We leave Kurdish area for a while, but everything feels safe.
In Erbil I'm staying with Mohammed Mohammed. Mohammed provides Kurdistan with satellite Internet. He is doing fairly well. He picks me up with his BMW and we go to his house where he lives with his mother and brother. On the way he needs to change engine oil, but has trouble paying because he only carries 100 USD bills. His mother makes me lunch and later we head out to meet Mohammed's friend David, a British architect working for UNESCO. We go to a top end Lebanese restaurant and are taken to the VIP table. The food is good and the raki (Turkish liquor) is strong. The power goes out 4 times during dinner. Mohammed and I continue to Ankawa Palace to meet up with his other friends who all belong to the elite in Erbil. Richest of all is Zatan, good for 20 million USD. We drink only chivas regal 18 year old and smoke nargileah (water pipe). There are no Iraqi dinars around the table, everyone carries 100 USD bills. I'm not allowed to pay for anything during the evening.
Dohuk dam.
On the road between Dohuk and Erbil, close to Mosul.
Lebanese dinner. Amin (Syria), David (UK), me and Mohammed.
At Ankawa Palace.
written by  bennedich on December 12, 2008 from Arbil, Iraq

Erbil
Arbil, Iraq
Bad news. I just found out there are NO international ATMs in Iran, and possibly nowhere in northern Iraq either. This is bad because I only have 200 euro, 5 USD and 10 more days before I leave Iran.
I meet up with David at 10.30am for a tour of the citadel, a huge fortress on top of a hill in the city center, 8000 years old. David is working on the preservation of this thing and is trying to make it a world heritage site. Most of the citadel is closed to public, but that doesn't bother David. As we climb over one of the blockades, peshmerga (Kurdish military) comes towards us with a machine gun. Amin, a Syrian guy working with David, translates: "He say we can not go". David ignores him and mumbles "We're UNESCO, we can go wherever we please". Afterwards we have lunch, mutton and rice, courtesy of UNESCO.
I spend the afternoon sightseeing the city center and the bazar. The city is a bit chaotic but still enjoyable. A lot of people are curious about me and ask where I'm from. Almost everyone has a relative or friend who lives or has lived in Sweden, so I'm very well received. As it gets dark Mohammed picks me up and we go play bowling with Zatan & co. Then we have dinner, Iraqi pizza, mostly in darkness due to a blackout. We drink tea, drink tea again, then head home to Mohammed to watch some TV.
Steve calls me at 10.30pm and asks if I'm married. Apparently he can set me up with an Iraqi woman if I come back to Dohuk. I tell him thanks, but I'm heading to Iran. He says "be safe man, you might get killed".
The Erbil citadel.
Sador, from the Iraqi/US special armed division.
Erbil seen from the citadel.
Men in Erbil.
Street in Erbil.
Inside the bazar (market) in Erbil.
written by  bennedich on December 13, 2008 from Arbil, Iraq

More of Erbil
Arbil, Iraq
Before breakfast, Mohammed goes out to start his car. He leaves it with the engine running for a good 45 minutes to make sure it's really warmed up when he drives to work. When we get to his office, he asks one of his drivers to take me around to the places in Erbil that might have international ATMs. We try 6 ATMs but none work. I give up that idea and go to the big mosque instead. It's closed to non-muslims, but the imam's brother and uncle live in Sweden so he's nice and lets me in to have a look. Afterwards, I sightsee pretty much all of central Erbil that I didn't see yesterday. It's actually a charming city, in a way.
In the evening, Mohammed takes me to Hawler Restaurant, the most upscale restaurant in town, where we have excellent food, whisky and smoke narghilea. After two hours, we get the main course. The owner of the restaurant, who is a friend of Mohammed, joins us to smoke. He has a deluxe narghilea, bigger and with a much wider tube so he can smoke more. He also has family in Sweden and has been there himself. His brother was the former leader of the Kurdistan Democratic Party. Mohammed knows an insane amount of people. As we get home, Bush has just got attacked by shoes in Baghdad. The Iraqis can't stop laughing about it.
Tomorrow I'll try to enter Iran through the Haji Omaran border. I'm not sure if the border is open for westerners. I've done a lot of research and haven't heard of a westerner that has passed here. I've spoken to one who's tried though, a war correspondent who's been to Iraq 8 times. He tried to cross earlier this year and was not allowed through. But I think I'll make it. I leave tomorrow morning.
Mohammed's car with the engine running.
A huge amount of cars stolen in Europe end up in Iraq.
Big mosque.
Street sign.
Fruit seller.
"Doctor street"
written by  bennedich on December 14, 2008 from Arbil, Iraq

Crossing the Iraq/Iran border
Piranshah, Iran
One of Mohammed's drivers takes me to the "garage" in the morning and helps me arrange a shared taxi to Haji Omaran at the Iranian border. I share the taxi with two Iranians and one Iraqi. The Iraqi carries a handgun that he hides in the seat pocket in front of him. The ride takes 3 hours and is very beautiful, we pass through canyons, over rivers and next to snowy mountains. We're stopped several times at military checkpoints, but there are no problems, we just show our passports, the soldiers usually give me a confused look and ask (in Kurdish) where I'm from, and we're allowed to continue.
The border itself is stunning, really basic, just some shacks and a nice set of gates, but it's set in the highest point of the mountain pass, surrounded by mountains and lots of snow. I pull out my camera to photodocument this moment, but Abobakrmahmode who's sitting next to me freaks out; "No no! Soldiers! Danger danger!". The crossing itself is a breeze, no problems at all. Well, except for a short moment when an immigration officer asks me for my purpose of travel and I have my thoughts elsewhere and respond "terrorism" instead of "tourism". Abobakr quickly jumps in to explain things after which the officer starts laughing. Abobakr laughs too, but looks more nervous.
On the Iranian side, I share a taxi to Piranshahr with Abobakrmahmode and the other Iranian who came with us from Erbil. Abobakr takes me to his brothers store; he creates gravestones. Then he invites me to his house for lunch. It's pretty cool, he lives together with his 3 brothers, 2 sisters, dad, wife, daughter and probably more people. There's a sitting room where we spend all the time. No furniture, just a carpet on the floor and cushions against the walls. Not at one point do I get to see the women, they keep in the kitchen, and when the men need something (tea, fried eggs, soup, etc) they just yell. When it's ready, the youngest brother goes to get it.
Only Abobakrmahmode speaks English, but still not really. He has a phrase book that he keeps flipping through and mixes phrases like "I am twentyeleven year old" and "This was an exquisite meal". The brothers are thrilled to meet a foreigner and they take me around town in their old beat up car, show me the garage where one of the brothers work, their fathers antique shop, etc. I give Abobakr a fluorescent keyboard that I brought from Sweden. He's really happy, even though it's in Swedish and not Farsi. In the evening we have dinner at their house and then they take me to the bus station where I'm getting on a night bus to Tehran. Abobakrmahmode tries to convince me over and over to stay at their house in Piranshahr, but I have to continue. He tells me "You go, I sad" and "Thank you for shiny keyboard", he kisses my cheeks three times and they all wave me goodbye as the bus leaves. I think I'm going to love Iran.
Mountain at Haji Omaran border crossing.
Taxi driver taking us from the border to Piranshahr.
Main street in Piranshahr. The gravestone store is first on the left.
English phrase book.
Dinner with Abobakrmahmode and his family. Abobakr is rightmost.
written by  bennedich on December 15, 2008 from Piranshah, Iran

Tehran
Tehran, Iran
I arrive to Tehran at around 6am. I am completely lost -- no guide book, no map and all signs are in Farsi. I only know I'm supposed to meet my friend Ali at 10am at some street downtown. I meet a guy named Mohse at the bus station, he takes me to the bus that goes to the metro, follows me on the metro, pays for all transportation, buys me breakfast and finally walks me 1 km to my meeting point. The only thing he accepts in return is my friendship. Amazing.
Eventually I meet Ali and we go to his place. They are 5-6 guys living together in downtown Tehran. Just like at Abobakrmahmode's place, there's a sitting room with a carpet where all the action takes place. After lunch, Ali and I do some sightseeing. When I take up my camera to take some pictures of downtown, Ali shakes his head: "You're not gonna take a picture, are you?" Iranians are very afraid of the police, and for a reason. At least three of the guys at Ali's place have been arrested. Ali was arrested and jailed for simply going to a coffeehouse with a girl.
Ali has to work in the evening so he arranges for me to meet with his friend Reysan. She suggests we go to a coffeehouse where we have some coffee and pizza. Outside, the snow is bucketing down, the first snow of the year incidentally! I walk Reysan home and she suggests I come up to her apartment. Thinking about the Iranian police, I tell her I probably shouldn't. I get back to Ali's place around midnight and he says it was very wise since she could have gotten into serious trouble. The day ends in "Iranian style", I brush my teeth with salt and hot tap water and sleep on the carpet on the floor.
I've bought an Iranian SIM card by the way and my number is +989373693430.
Tire shopping mall.
My wallet after I change 100 euro to Iranian rials.
Reysan.
Snow.
written by  bennedich on December 16, 2008 from Tehran, Iran

The sheep head
Tehran, Iran
I'm woken up abruptly at 7.30am. It's eid, religious holiday, the anniversary of the prophet or something like that. Some of the guys have been up almost all night and prepared something special -- sheep head and coca cola! This is a real feast, only eaten twice a year. The meal consists of two parts, first is the sheep head water which is the fluids that came out of the head as it was cooked. It's mixed with bread and eaten as soup. Second is the sheep head itself, with the brain being most delicious of all. I eat sheep brain, sheep jaw and sheep forehead. Then we drink tea and smoke qalyan (water pipe).
After breakfast we all go out for some sightseeing and visit the national museum. Then we head back home where we just spend the afternoon chatting, drinking tea and playing cards. I learn a lot about Iran today. We have late lunch and I realize it's been 5 days now where I've only paid for food once (in Iraq, cost less than 1 usd), so it might not be a problem after all that I don't have a lot of money.
Not much happens in the evening, we go around the city a bit, buy my bus ticket to Esfahan for tonight and meet with one of Ali's (girl) friends. At one point, Ali and I pass a huge army building. It's lit up and looks very impressive. I can't resist the urge, so as Ali continues walking, I pull up my camera and point it through the fence. Ali turns around and sees what I'm doing; "Max, don't do that!!" he yells. Seconds later, a soldier comes running towards me with a machine gun, shouting in Farsi. He quickly relieves me of my camera. The next 20 minutes are spent arguing whether I'm a spy or not. Then all of a sudden I get the camera back and we're allowed to go. Ali whispers "Go go go, don't look back!" He says we were very lucky; another foreign friend of his was deported after a similar incident.
I leave to Esfahan at midnight and the trip takes 6 hours.
Eating sheep head.
Smoking qalyan.
Imam Khomeini square. They used to hang people from the statue.
Me, Ali (right of me in the photo), and two of his flatmates.
Fruit store.
written by  bennedich on December 17, 2008 from Tehran, Iran

Esfahan
Esfahan, Iran
I arrive early in Esfahan, "the jewel of ancient Persia", and spend the whole day exploring the city, walking, walking and walking. It's a very beautiful city, it's just unfortunate that it's freezing cold all day. I am like a magnet of attention here in Iran; whenever I sit down to read, sip some tea or collect my thoughts, it usually only takes a few minutes before I have company. People asking where I'm from, why I don't have a wife, inviting me for tea, etc. One man carefully looks around him, then leans forward and whispers "Yesterday, I drank wine" (alcohol is illegal in Iran). Sometimes, this attention is a bit annoying. But mostly, I'm just amazed by the friendliness of the people here.
After everything I've seen today, I feel that I don't need another day here so I buy a ticket for the night bus to Shiraz. In the evening I call Shirin, a friend of Mohammed (Iraq) who lives in Tehran. She says she's interested in meeting me when I get back to Tehran. I'm surprised by how open, flirtatious even, Iranian girls are. I had not expected that.
Jameh Mosque.
Old man outside the bazar.
Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque.
Imam Mosque.
Koran quotes like this are all over Iran.
Si-o-Seh Bridge.
written by  bennedich on December 18, 2008 from Esfahan, Iran

Persepolis
Shiraz, Iran
I arrive to Shiraz in the early morning, wait for the sun to rise, then take a minibus to Marvdasht and walk around 1 km before I find a shared taxi to Persepolis. (The easy way would have been to just take a private taxi from Shiraz, but there's no challenge in that.) I get to Persepolis at around opening time and climb to the top of a small mountain to have breakfast while savoring the views of this ancient city. Priceless!
Early afternoon, I leave to walk over to another site with some ancient tombs. Three kids on a motorbike drive up next to me and start talking in Farsi. Somehow, I end up on their motorbike, and the kid in front drives like a maniac towards Marvdasht (~12km). Twice we negotiate roundabouts in the wrong direction and I realize that this 20 minute ride probably is much more dangerous than the 4 days I spent in Iraq. Once in Marvdasht, the trio gives me a tour of the city from the motorbike, of which I understand about nothing since it's all in Farsi. Then we drive to a residential area where their friends are hanging out outside a house. They're overexcited to see a westerner. They surround me, touching, dragging, poking. One of them puts a strawberry qalyan (water pipe) in my mouth and another invites me to his house for lunch. Eventually we get back on the motorbike and they take me to the minibus station. I try to pay for the ride, but they only allow me to pay for filling up the gas tank, which amounts to 9000 rials (90 US cents). Great experience!
Back in Shiraz I buy a ticket for a 15 hour nightbus to Tehran and do some sightseeing, but most things are closed since it's Friday (Islam day of prayer). A girl comes up to me on the street and invites me over to her house.. I can't recall ever receiving such an invitation back home (except for the prostitutes in downtown Oslo). I talk to Shirin again and she says she'll show me around town on Sunday. Oh! And she loves skiing and says she could take Monday off work and take me skiing north of Tehran. I love this country!
Me and Persepolis.
Persepolis.
The kids who take me on the motorbike.
Minibus in Marvdasht.
Shiraz citadel.
Creating a billboard in Shiraz.
written by  bennedich on December 19, 2008 from Shiraz, Iran

The Great Satan
Tehran, Iran
I'm a bit tired after having spent the last three days on night buses, so it feels good to be back in Tehran and with Ali. After a shower, shave and some haleem (Persian wheat breakfast -- great!) I'm ready to hit the town again. Ali's working so I'm on my own. As usual, I get a lot of attention on the street. Two Iranians give me their phone numbers; one offers to take me to his house in northern Iran where we can go water skiing and the other wants to take me on a city tour on his motorcycle.
The Nest of Spies (former US embassy) is the highlight of the day, covered in murals testifying to the evil of the Great Satan (USA) and how it will be defeated. Photography is strictly prohibited here, so I have to hide behind some trees on the opposite side of the street, which explains the bad quality of the photos.
In the evening I reunite with Ali and his friend Arash and we go to a really cool qalyan place, then we have dinner and cruise the city in Arash's car listening to underground Persian pop at maximum volume :) Underground means music influenced by the Great Satan, and/or about illegal topics (which is kind of hard to avoid here).
I also spend some time online trying to figure out what to do with the last week of my vacation. Since I've been freezing every single day of my vacation so far, I'm thinking some place warm, tropical, where I can just relax on the beach with a good book. The choice is obvious: Haiti. I leave on Dec 28.
Mountains north of Tehran.
Iranian version of the statue of liberty.
How to defy the Great Satan...
Ali and me smoking mint qalyan.
The qalyan place.
written by  bennedich on December 20, 2008 from Tehran, Iran

Shirin
Shirin picks me up with her car in the morning and shows me around northern Tehran (the rich part). I buy a lot of Persian sweets and candy and a few gifts at the bazaar. We visit a small mosque that has an inside more beautiful than any other mosque I've seen -- completely covered in mirror tiles. Unfortunately I'm not allowed to take any pictures :( We have great Persian food and drinks. It's a good day. Before I know it, it's evening. I notice that I don't have any Iranian money left, which I'll need for skiing tomorrow, so I run around the streets downtown looking for a street changer, but they're all gone for the day. I decide to try another strategy and start looking for foreign tourists, which is not very easy either. Finally, close to midnight, I find three Czechs in a hotel who agree to change my remaining 100 euro to rials, and at the best exchange rate I've got so far, great! All set for skiing tomorrow!
Shirin laughs and takes this photo of me eating haleem, since this is not how you're supposed to eat it.
Sheep head. What we ate the other day.
Graves for unknown people who died in the Iran-Iraq war.
Qalyan place. Smoking forbidden :)
To keep warm, people simply start a fire on the street.

No skiing :(
I'm up at 5.45am and use a combination of metro (10 US cents), bus (12.5c) and shared taxi (25c) to get to the Tochal ski complex in northern Tehran where I'm meeting with Shirin and a few of her friends. I'm struck by grief as we're told the Piste is closed today! So much for skiing in Iran. Instead, Shirin and I go downtown. For lunch we go to a restaurant in an art center. They have a special section for "actors and foreigners". In order to get in, Shirin ties her scarf like an Arab (rather than a Persian) and speaks Farsi with an accent, and I do my best to look foreign myself. Inside, we meet famous actor Behzad Farahani ("the Robert De Niro of Iran"). In the evening I meet with Ali as usual, and Reysan joins us out for the "last supper" before I leave Iran. At one point, Reysan's scarf slides down so her hair is visible. It only takes seconds before a guard tells her to cover up. I casually show them the photo of me and Behzad and they're green with envy. Ali joins me to the airport at night where my flight leaves at 4.40am. Tomorrow: Qatar!
Northern Tehran early morning.
It's not easy being American here in Iran.
Me, Behzad and Shirin.
Grand bazaar.

The most random thing just happened...
Doha, Qatar
I don't know how to describe it; comical, scary, coincidental. My plane lands at 6 something am in Doha, Qatar. My onward flight to Stockholm is tomorrow at 1am, so I have the whole day in Doha. An Indian guy named Najaf has offered me to come and feel like home in his apartment in central Doha. He leaves for work early, but has left the key under the doormat of the caretakers room. I take a taxi to Najaf's building and pick up the key. It's marked with the flat id so I easily find his apartment, take a shower and have some breakfast before I leave to explore Doha. I keep the key with me since Najaf has a spare. In the afternoon, the following SMS dialog takes place between Najaf and me:
N: I am leaving for my place now see you there
M: Ok, 'm on the bus.. 'll be there in maybe 30min.
[45 minutes later]
N: Where are you
M: At your place, watching tv. Where are u?
N: In my apartment, in which flat are you?
M: Flat c
N: Flat t at fifth floor!!
Yes that's right, I've been making myself at home in the wrong fracking apartment!! I get up to the correct flat, meet with Najaf and have some coffee, chat, etc. After around an hour we leave to go to the souk. Outside the house there's a man in his 50s, not sure from where, I'd guess eastern Europe. He's furious, yakking about having left his key under the doormat this morning for the cleaner to pick it up, but now the key is missing and he's tried to get hold of the cleaner for one hour. In fact, the key is still in my pocket. Najaf and I discretely place the key outside the caretaker's room and tell the man "There's a key on the ground here..." We quickly take off, thinking it's better not to be around when he realizes someone has been to his flat. I keep thinking I'm lucky the man didn't get home while I was showering or watching TV... situation could have been quite bad.
Apart from this incident, I try to see as much as possible of Doha today. In my opinion, it's very similar to other cities in the gulf, e.g. Manama, Abu Dhabi and Muscat, but even more boring. My favorite place is the Islamic Cultural Center where an albino Arab gives me a free personal tour of how ablution and prayer are done. During the siesta (1-4pm) I meet with Tunde, a Hungarian girl living here, and we stroll along the corniche and souk. It's sooo nice here, sunny and 23 C, corniche lined by palm trees.
In the evening, Najaf and I meet up with Dr Ahmed (Egyptian born and raised in Qatar) and Hin Yeong (Singaporean). I haven't had beer for 9 days, so we're determined to get some. There are a few bars here at the international hotels. We're first thrown out of Ramada because Dr Ahmed carries a knife, but at Sheraton we have more luck. It's a nice ending to this first part of my vacation. Around midnight, the trio drives me to the airport in Dr Ahmed's car. I fly to Stockholm at 1.10am.
Stranger's apartment that I was using.
Street.
Man in the souk.
Qatari feeding pigeons. Islam Cultural Center in the background.
Old Qataris in the souk.
Me and the pearl monument.
Villagio shopping mall, like a small Venice.
Najaf, Dr Ahmed and me.
written by  bennedich on December 23, 2008 from Doha, Qatar

Christmas
Stockholm, Sweden
I spend four days in Stockholm, Sweden celebrating Christmas with the family. I also do some packing (since I'm moving to USA), working, I get sick for two days, and I speak to (and miss) my Iranian friends Shirin, Abobakrmahmode and Ali.
Celebrating Christmas with family.
Kungsgatan, Stockholm.
Kids skating in Kungstradgarden, Stockholm.
written by  bennedich on December 27, 2008 from Stockholm, Sweden

Quick visit to San Francisco...
San Francisco, United States
I stay up all night packing and working, then fly to San Francisco at 9am, via Frankfurt. The flight from Frankfurt is overbooked and I'm told I'm bumped: I'll get 600 euro, hotel and a business class seat for the next flight. Awesome! Except that it means I'll miss my connecting flight to the Dominican Republic. They try to arrange things for me but in the end it doesn't work out so they let me board and bump someone else :( In San Francisco, my Silicon Valley based colleague Juan Pablo helps me out by meeting me at the airport and picking up my 40 kilos of luggage. At 10pm I take a domestic flight to Philadelphia.
I try to stay out of this area.
written by  bennedich on December 28, 2008 from San Francisco, United States

La Republica Dominicana
Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
I arrive in Philadelphia at 6am and have almost 4 hours to kill before I continue to the Dominican Republic. Plenty of time to head downtown for sightseeing and breakfast! When leaving Philadelphia, an immigration officer asks me where I live. I tell her I don't really live anywhere at the moment, which is the truth. She studies my passport. "You've been to some interesting places." She comes to the page where I've managed to get the Iranian and Iraqi visa next to each other. "Why don't you step over here for a while, Sir."
I arrive in the Dominican Republic at around 2pm. Unfortunately, I land in Punta Cana, about as far away from Haiti as possible on this island. I am supposed to be in Haiti tomorrow, but have no idea how to get there. (I deliberately didn't prepare in order to make things more interesting.) I exit the airport and find a guagua (local bus) which takes me to a bus station where I find a bus for Santo Domingo, the capital. The bus takes 3-4 hours during which I make friends with the bus driver. In the capital, he takes me to the hotel where he's staying, then we meet with his friend the taxi driver and the three of us go out to eat, they give me a short tour of the city and tell me how to go to Haiti. Great! They're very hospitable, although one difference between them and all the Iranian people I've met recently is that they're happy to see me pay for things :)
Philadelphia.
I have breakfast here.
Airport in Punta Cana.
Street in Dominican Republic.
written by  bennedich on December 29, 2008 from Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic

At the Haitian border, she asks if I want to marry her...
Port-au-Prince, Haiti
At 6.45am I go to the Haitian Embassy, outside which there are buses leaving for Haiti. Haiti: the poorest country in the western hemisphere. The bus is already full when I get there, but I'm still sold a ticket. It's handwritten, on the back of a cornflakes box. To accommodate for more passengers, they simply put plastic chairs in the aisle of the bus. Right before the bus leaves, a car pulls up with 5 large black rectangular packages, which are loaded at the back of the bus.
The journey can be described as insane at best. It's me, a Peruvian man with his Haitian wife, and around 40 other Haitians, all black. There's loud merengue streaming out the speakers throughout the trip. Everyone is talking and shouting to one another, even though I assume they didn't know each other before the trip started, and things are passed back and forth; food, alcohol, a baby. I'm invited for both food and alcohol during the trip by the friendly Haitians. Everyone refers to me as "blanco" (means white). A girl sitting at my side is touching my skin and speaking to me in creole (language in Haiti, resembles French). A guy at my other side (I'm in the aisle) speaks Spanish and translates: "She wants you." We arrive at the border around noon, it's really busy, like a big market place. When we sit there waiting for our passports, the girl asks if I want to marry her. I contemplate it for a moment, she's 19 perhaps, very beautiful. I tell her it probably wouldn't work.
The border is set next to a lake. Somewhere before the border, the black packages disappear without me noticing. As we've passed, we see a huge black guy without much clothes rowing like a mad man over the lake. He rows towards us, and I see that the black packages are stuffed in the boat. They're quickly loaded on the bus, and we continue towards Port-au-Prince, the capital of Haiti. When I arrive, I call my Haitian friends and they come and pick me up. I'm staying with a Haitian girl called Natasha. There are always a lot of people in her house; friends, family and also another blanco: Jason who happens to be a computer engineer from San Francisco.
At the Haitian border, and the bus and some people I travel with.
Outside Natasha's house.
View from Natasha's place.
At Natasha's.
written by  bennedich on December 30, 2008 from Port-au-Prince, Haiti

New Year's in Haiti
Port-au-Prince, Haiti
After breakfast, Natasha takes me to a slum area of Port-au-Prince (PAP) to visit an orphanage and a school where she works. It's very very interesting to see since the life here is so completely different from say Sweden or USA. Even at Natasha's place, things are not exactly the way I'm used to at home. For example, there's no running water so we have to go get water from a well.
Tonight we're having a new year's party at Natasha's place. Jason and I spend most of the evening cooking and grilling. There's also beer and dancing. Suddenly it's 2009 and everyone is hugging and kissing. After midnight I leave with two Haitian girls to a club called Jet Set in Petionville, a rich suburb. There are plenty of westerners here, something you don't see in other places in PAP, they turn out to be from the UN peace keeping Mission in Haiti. It's a good day. A great end to 2008 and start for 2009!
Kids in the orphanage.
Making coffee.
Street.
Barbecuing.
Jason, Natasha, me and some of Natasha's friends.
Dancing.
This photo shows our delicious salad and Haitian rum.
Life is good.
written by  bennedich on December 31, 2008 from Port-au-Prince, Haiti

National Day of Haiti
Port-au-Prince, Haiti
First of January is the national day of Haiti, exactly 204 years ago they pushed out the French and became a free country. Haitians celebrate this by eating a traditional pumpkin soup. We eat it at the orphanage. The rest of the day we don't do much, hanging with Natasha and her friends and playing with the children.
Haiti is a true third world country, where running water is a luxury and electricity goes on and off, even worse than in northern Iraq. Here it seems the entire city can black out for a period of hours. There is garbage everywhere. Really! In addition to the omnipresent wild dogs, chicken and roosters, we spot a wild pig digging through a pile of garbage close to the city center.
In the evening, Jason and I go on a quest for pork. After having had so much chicken lately we're craving something else. We find it on the street not far from Natasha's home. The food here is really tasty, with a lot of spices.
In the slum.
With Natasha.
Kids at the orphanage. Natasha on the right.
View from Natasha's brother's girlfriend's house.
Kid eating sugar cane.
Pork.
written by  bennedich on January 1, 2009 from Port-au-Prince, Haiti

The village
Grand Goave, Haiti
Today we visit a small village around 2h west of Port-au-Prince where Natasha knows some people (she grew up herself in an SOS village for children without parents). The village is set amidst a Field of coconut palms, so for a snack, all we do is pick some coconuts and chop them open. There's a beach just a few 100m away where we swim and get some sun.
The kids in the village are very curious about us blancos (Jason and me). They stand at a short distance just staring at us. One little girl is terrified and starts crying every time she looks at us. The people here are mostly dark dark black. For example, on our way home after dark we see at a stop sign on the street, only it's not, it's just a very black man with a stop sign on his t-shirt. For dinner we once again have an amazing home cooked meal at the orphanage. Then we head out to party at Jet Set in Petionville.
I really like this country... people are so warm, friendly, curious, inviting. Similar to Iran in a way, yet with many differences. One being that girls here are much more free, so it's easier to talk to them. In the Middle East I mostly just spoke to guys. Another being that Haiti is not particularly safe. There's plenty of crime and kidnappings here, and Jason and I attract a lot of attention. Except for the UN staff in their heavily armed trucks, we haven't seen a single white person. Moreover, police officers are virtually nonexistent, and the ones out there seem to be up to no good anyway. (The one we saw today was making out with a girl on the street.) For these reasons, we always go accompanied by at least one local, and usually in a car with the doors locked.
Having a snack in the village.
On the way to the beach.
The beach.
Local boys at the beach.
Man at the beach.
Fishermen and the catch of the day.
In the village. This is the girl who's afraid of us.
Kid being cleaned.
Reading stories in the village.
Party.
written by  bennedich on January 2, 2009 from Grand Goave, Haiti

Turning back home
Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
We get home from Jet Set at around 3.30am. At 6.15am I'm up to catch the bus back to the Dominican Republic. Natasha tells me there are two buses: the comfortable express bus and the crazy bus, which is the one I took to get here. The choice is easy, but unfortunately the bus is not as crazy this time. People are a bit more mellow, presumably because last time they were on their way home to celebrate the new year and now they're on their way back to the reality of their hard lives.
I sit next to Alexis, a 25 year old Haitian whose job is to move steering wheels of imported cars from the right side to the left. During the 11 hour trip we become friends and he invites me to stay at his place for the night. He lives with a friend, another Haitian, on around 12 square meters in a suburb 30 minutes outside Santo Domingo. The living conditions are VERY basic. He prays to God every day to show him an exit, a path to a better life. It's a very moving experience.
Haitian.
Sugar cane salesman in Haiti.
Head for sale in Haiti.
written by  bennedich on January 3, 2009 from Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic

The conclusion
San Francisco, United States
I'm up at 5.20am, take a guagua to the city center, then a motorcycle taxi to the bus station followed by a bus to Higuëy, where I have around 2h of sightseeing and breakfast. The main attraction is a really unique cathedral, apart from that the city is quite standard... but I like it. Whenever beautiful girls come up to me on the street and give me their phone numbers, things are good. Next, I take another bus to Punta Cana airport then fly to my new home of San Francisco, via Philadelphia and Las Vegas. Looong day.
This concludes my vacation. I'll try to summarize briefly. I've been to 11 countries (Norway, Czech Republic, Ukraine, Turkey, Iraq, Iran, Qatar, Sweden, USA, Dominican Republic and Haiti). I met one person whose philosophy appealed to me: "I trust people. If you can't trust people, the world is shit. And I don't want to live in a shit world." I've been careful, but chosen to trust many persons, and it's worked out wonderfully. I've met countless of new people, many of which I'm still in contact with. I've paid for accommodation twice now in 65 days (in Diyarbakir and Santo Domingo), and practically never had to eat a meal alone, which I think goes to show that humankind is pretty good after all :)
Cathedral in Higüey.
Higüey.
Banana street, Higüey.
Punta Cana.
written by  bennedich on January 4, 2009 from San Francisco, United States

Dohuk dam.

Sador, from the Iraqi/US special armed division.

Erbil seen from the citadel.

Men in Erbil.

Street in Erbil.

On the road between Dohuk and Erbil, close to Mosul.

Inside the bazar (market) in Erbil.

Big mosque.

Street sign.

Fruit seller.

A huge amount of cars stolen in Europe end up in Iraq.

Mohammed's car with the engine running.

"Doctor street"

English phrase book.

Main street in Piranshahr. The gravestone store is first on the left.

Taxi driver taking us from the border to Piranshahr.

Mountain at Haji Omaran border crossing.

Tire shopping mall.

Dinner with Abobakrmahmode and his family. Abobakr is rightmost.

My wallet after I change 100 euro to Iranian rials.

Snow.

Reysan.

Eating sheep head.

Smoking qalyan.

Imam Khomeini square. They used to hang people from the statue.

Me, Ali (right of me in the photo), and two of his flatmates.

Fruit store.

Old man outside the bazar.

Jameh Mosque.

Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque.

Imam Mosque.

Si-o-Seh Bridge.

Koran quotes like this are all over Iran.

Minibus in Marvdasht.

Persepolis.

Me and Persepolis.

The kids who take me on the motorbike.

Creating a billboard in Shiraz.

Mountains north of Tehran.

Iranian version of the statue of liberty.

To keep warm, people simply start a fire on the street.

The qalyan place.

Ali and me smoking mint qalyan.

How to defy the Great Satan...

Qalyan place. Smoking forbidden :)

Sheep head. What we ate the other day.

Shirin laughs and takes this photo of me eating haleem, since this is not how you're supposed to eat it.

Graves for unknown people who died in the Iran-Iraq war.

Northern Tehran early morning.

Me, Behzad and Shirin.

It's not easy being American here in Iran.

Grand bazaar.

Stranger's apartment that I was using.

Street.

Man in the souk.

Qatari feeding pigeons. Islam Cultural Center in the background.

Old Qataris in the souk.

Me and the pearl monument.

Villagio shopping mall, like a small Venice.

Najaf, Dr Ahmed and me.

Philadelphia.

I try to stay out of this area.

Airport in Punta Cana.

Street in Dominican Republic.

I have breakfast here.

At the Haitian border, and the bus and some people I travel with.

View from Natasha's place.

At Natasha's.

Outside Natasha's house.

Kids in the orphanage.

Making coffee.

In the slum.

Haitian.

We stop here to buy grilled chicken.

Kungsgatan, Stockholm.

Kids skating in Kungstradgarden, Stockholm.

Celebrating Christmas with family.

With Natasha.

This photo shows our delicious salad and Haitian rum.

View from Natasha's brother's girlfriend's house.

Head for sale in Haiti.

Life is good.

Jason, Natasha, me and some of Natasha's friends.

Dancing.

Kid eating sugar cane.

Pork.

Barbecuing.

Kids at the orphanage. Natasha on the right.

Sugar cane salesman in Haiti.

Having a snack in the village.

Fishermen and the catch of the day.

The beach.

Man at the beach.

Local boys at the beach.

Young girl at the beach.

On the way to the beach.

In the village. This is the girl who's afraid of us.

Kid being cleaned.

Party.

Reading stories in the village.

Cathedral in Higüey.

Higüey.

Banana street, Higüey.

Punta Cana.