tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92479542024-03-07T03:39:03.005-08:00Just Exploring...janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.comBlogger104125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-88674461674293778642013-02-21T11:02:00.002-08:002013-02-21T11:04:34.415-08:00Kresby a malby na stenu<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9SSu-K-4c1K3O0FuwPks2rRBDgX4gyCgpM1L4ohyphenhyphenRGueh-7ViI9olKz4P5Vb0X-lvcgDM4XtjQiHCtQuY3WdPqs6Ml8ZY5ysvLg6ybPfIhTFbm-Yo0PVMEuN8RIsHQ51v0BwDKQ/s1600/pozadie+canvas+napis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9SSu-K-4c1K3O0FuwPks2rRBDgX4gyCgpM1L4ohyphenhyphenRGueh-7ViI9olKz4P5Vb0X-lvcgDM4XtjQiHCtQuY3WdPqs6Ml8ZY5ysvLg6ybPfIhTFbm-Yo0PVMEuN8RIsHQ51v0BwDKQ/s320/pozadie+canvas+napis.jpg" width="320" /></a>Tuto zimu som opat trocha tvoril. V hostely Blues chceli ozivit vchod a tak som sa realizoval. To ma v zapati inspirovalo k vytvoreniu mojho prveho portfolia. Tuhla je<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/126615139/Jantar-Portfolio">Jantar-Portfolio</a><br />
<br />
V pripade, ze hladate cloveka, ktory by Vam namaloval nieco pekne vo Vasom bare, osviezil predajnu, alebo kludne aj pomaloval steny na byte pozrite si moju robotu... (Zilina a Bratislava su hlavne lokality kde sa bezne nachadzam, ale nie su to jedine dve slovenske mesta, kde by som mohol malovat... )janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-71989557895946626112012-02-01T01:15:00.002-08:002012-03-28T12:52:40.202-07:00Maľovanie na steny<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZzUS3Wn76v_GR5QEBulaaNguxW_UMHqUySNN9A5NCc7ub2r6c3EniqaBDVQ4rCbeoeaYSByEYfIqzXbZw5Ms2_G4RgSCLPtEVnxmpbRhfq-hipu6yvCbP-JP2mlWv9IRZbi7Rw/s1600/jerusalem5.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZzUS3Wn76v_GR5QEBulaaNguxW_UMHqUySNN9A5NCc7ub2r6c3EniqaBDVQ4rCbeoeaYSByEYfIqzXbZw5Ms2_G4RgSCLPtEVnxmpbRhfq-hipu6yvCbP-JP2mlWv9IRZbi7Rw/s200/jerusalem5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704873959974348962" border="0" /></a><br />Začalo to už dávnejšie avšak zo začiatku to boli iba súkromné projekty. Prvé maľovanie na steny prišlo keď som si zútulňoval ateliér v Galante a robil si z neho svoju izbu. To sa písali roky 95-96 a ja som si maľoval na steny svoje vízie krásy. Skoro o desať rokov neskôr som sa pri cestovaní po Nicaragui dostal do pekného hostela, ktorý bol pomaľovaný rôznymi maľbami. Evidentne ich robili viacerí ľudia,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSQfiIZfBNtoarizIVKFD62OVoMWthh6rnuAr04orKNNYvx7tbAMlxRnACxsBfjfQ98YeHDTHLBfQQMxzyuN5Ndi_QFJFSEhxkeEURH-DBXLoYJ-ECZ7EM8ljLi-TNsgxxxu5/s1600/DSC09037.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSQfiIZfBNtoarizIVKFD62OVoMWthh6rnuAr04orKNNYvx7tbAMlxRnACxsBfjfQ98YeHDTHLBfQQMxzyuN5Ndi_QFJFSEhxkeEURH-DBXLoYJ-ECZ7EM8ljLi-TNsgxxxu5/s320/DSC09037.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704112234428805362" border="0" /></a> maľba je ako rukopis, každý má svoj štýl. Opýtal som sa personálu, či by som mohol aj ja niečim prispieť, a tak vznikol môj prvý "profesionálny" výtvor. Aj keď vtedy mi stačilo, že som nemusel platiť za dve noci a jeden obed...<br />Poďme ďalej po tejto časovo-maľovanej osi. V roku 2009 som dobicykloval do Pakistanu (o tejto púti sa dočítate v starších článkoch), kde som sa opäť dostal do útulného hostelíka a voľné chvíle som využil najlepšie ako som vedel. Tu vznikla Kaori, za ktorou sa skrýva skutočná Japonka, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGhzoMNPgXvw5fkU2J-odvpA8s7ejCXZocP5GNf8EBm_DQ5kt2UFmvFLSc9iAoQ9pK3RimIwjtZRPjwN-vdEvbI8Ci-GEQlcP_D2c5AlfgvQCkNkjYarui4rQSYhI3sOYfZ5y86A/s1600/Kaori.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGhzoMNPgXvw5fkU2J-odvpA8s7ejCXZocP5GNf8EBm_DQ5kt2UFmvFLSc9iAoQ9pK3RimIwjtZRPjwN-vdEvbI8Ci-GEQlcP_D2c5AlfgvQCkNkjYarui4rQSYhI3sOYfZ5y86A/s200/Kaori.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704114904045068770" border="0" /></a>ktorá bicyklovala z Japonska, cez Čínu a Pakistan do Indie. Toto dielo, som poňal trochu profesionálnejšie - vopred som si dohodol, že nebudem platiť za ubytovanie. Stále som to však bral ako sebarealizáciu, nie ako moju prácu.<br />To sa však zmenilo pri mojom zatiaľ poslednom projekte. Dostávame sa do súčasnosti, t.j. do roku 2012. Opäť zostávame v dobre známom prostredí hostelov, tento raz však zvučné mená ďalekých krajín doplníme krásnym menom našeho hlavného mesta. V hosteli Blues majú izby pomenované podľa svetových metropol. Rozhodli sa ich trochu oživiť, a tak ma pozvali, a<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN8wKl6lsLm_at7SPIlHiK3bYVA5H7Ll25pd_tQCyAGA-ICRoJUt3c9y8VLLkj2lNk4MAvYg-ns8DA6LPbma8krj7TbXzZ5TatOZfGRj3DsaJ77LcGXxNoecoa94u4gfm8itEa8Q/s1600/DSC09460.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN8wKl6lsLm_at7SPIlHiK3bYVA5H7Ll25pd_tQCyAGA-ICRoJUt3c9y8VLLkj2lNk4MAvYg-ns8DA6LPbma8krj7TbXzZ5TatOZfGRj3DsaJ77LcGXxNoecoa94u4gfm8itEa8Q/s200/DSC09460.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725037314099257378" border="0" /></a>by som im s tým pomohol. Dostal som viac menej voľnú ruku. Jediná požiadavka bola aby daná maľba súvisela s názvom izby. A tak som do Amsterdamu na stenu namaľoval bicykel, do Londýna rušnú ulicu s rôznorodými ľuďmi a v Paríži som sa nechal inšpirovať slávnym centrom moderného umenia zvaným Pompidour center. Na Berlín som vymyslel výrok od Herrmana Hesseho, napísal som ho ornamentným starodávnym písmom, a tak celá izba dostala trocha ušľachtilejšiu atmosféru, čo tie ružové steny potrebovali. Najluxusnejšiu izbu, Jeruzalem, som mal spraviť čo najelegantnejšie a tak som zvolil modro-zlaté ryby, ktoré okrem i<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkZNYXB_zIhmEEl09WXjYDRp_0cZ9hubJpGzJvry89LYq3vDLWd-26wB77IACgrASBXFmA2TxzxEh9Rr2zJ6FnE4sIRyYoPKYe1YAf_UopDMD0RZxKqTJBh-li8XWxWNDzEJ97w/s1600/jerusalem2.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkZNYXB_zIhmEEl09WXjYDRp_0cZ9hubJpGzJvry89LYq3vDLWd-26wB77IACgrASBXFmA2TxzxEh9Rr2zJ6FnE4sIRyYoPKYe1YAf_UopDMD0RZxKqTJBh-li8XWxWNDzEJ97w/s200/jerusalem2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704873956879552146" border="0" /></a>ného reprezentujú Ježiša. Posledná izba sa volala Dublin. Írsko si spájam so stromami a s Keltmi, a tak som navrhol spraviť tam keltský strom. Vznikla z toho najväčšia maľba tejto zákazky. Pri maľovaní v tomto hosteli som si uvedomil, že je trocha rozdiel maľovať sám pre seba, alebo za ubytovanie, alebo maľovať za prachy. Bavilo ma to rovnako, ale oveľa viac energie som venoval poslednému projektu, nie len preto, že izieb bolo 6, ale aj preto, že boli na mňa kladené väčšie nároky. A tak si myslím, že som aj podal najlepší výkon. Čo poviete? Ak máte nejaké komenty k maľbám, sem s nimi! Nech je to na budúce ešte lepšie.<br />Pre viac obrázkov, mrknite na môj <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/16938215@N02/?saved=1">flickr. </a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RkRyozcqz3N1APR-izwE2KpciSIRrnGGWbt5xALlafUy-7rUda4138GgtjBPFS5IX8Kjsw9qC3vz4le5mHP71UsDbpGfDrrPbmrpz4JEMEjRSV1QQY4SyfJvxqzZl_Xrdvo1nw/s1600/paris3.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 184px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RkRyozcqz3N1APR-izwE2KpciSIRrnGGWbt5xALlafUy-7rUda4138GgtjBPFS5IX8Kjsw9qC3vz4le5mHP71UsDbpGfDrrPbmrpz4JEMEjRSV1QQY4SyfJvxqzZl_Xrdvo1nw/s200/paris3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704874628612384178" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvWjZmnvywEuzdH0wlAyxrDfLRMX1LUy5BDq_WRJs0vSO0OAsDUikzvfZLFzuuw5TEqrOIfPu9WU5zcWFI7hNimV_a7SwpUbGipleYCu2Cs52aQdyTvzV6Gg-I-_qRATjxFRm/s1600/DSC09185.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvWjZmnvywEuzdH0wlAyxrDfLRMX1LUy5BDq_WRJs0vSO0OAsDUikzvfZLFzuuw5TEqrOIfPu9WU5zcWFI7hNimV_a7SwpUbGipleYCu2Cs52aQdyTvzV6Gg-I-_qRATjxFRm/s320/DSC09185.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704112255507462914" border="0" /></a>janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-9268568141858691672010-06-20T01:56:00.000-07:002010-06-20T03:10:28.248-07:00Cycling to Asia, PEOPLE & FACES<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6NyQDP_NQn0P3Km3qAi-SEYS3Lk50xaCmb4Tu1n6r9ZnSTMsdfTxBlDTkqpaGluzYlUiFzjEkJnGcbK9DQ-6dgFtxufkLv3zZ3Sbh6ycbR-_Wrpwx4o9kQaVQpH_l50DfJv0tIg/s1600/P1220623.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6NyQDP_NQn0P3Km3qAi-SEYS3Lk50xaCmb4Tu1n6r9ZnSTMsdfTxBlDTkqpaGluzYlUiFzjEkJnGcbK9DQ-6dgFtxufkLv3zZ3Sbh6ycbR-_Wrpwx4o9kQaVQpH_l50DfJv0tIg/s200/P1220623.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484793658646690290" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxdxhD81lAlZ74jI26MGv4XHxiLzlNpRclTdGUKZAKCr941AvNx_k7OWS6jvsvSFGZr7HpIlaICuUdAxWRMWk0GwgX3gZLjc0GLSBnBQqcQWXZlyKxsfOm8f-O8DSRx0wdVJQ5A/s1600/P1220460.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxdxhD81lAlZ74jI26MGv4XHxiLzlNpRclTdGUKZAKCr941AvNx_k7OWS6jvsvSFGZr7HpIlaICuUdAxWRMWk0GwgX3gZLjc0GLSBnBQqcQWXZlyKxsfOm8f-O8DSRx0wdVJQ5A/s200/P1220460.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484792715201180034" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSt0_9LxPQjZlvWwV494Bjoh9bTL9N8bgwTATtxv7mLI2iZZ7SUbUtZ99OGllYCyIZR-BmMMpnwitdky7pX82hbsQVyF_E8Yh2thA_bQZBYScsNPZW2STDnJHGrI6Emo0CfG8k5w/s1600/P1210914.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSt0_9LxPQjZlvWwV494Bjoh9bTL9N8bgwTATtxv7mLI2iZZ7SUbUtZ99OGllYCyIZR-BmMMpnwitdky7pX82hbsQVyF_E8Yh2thA_bQZBYScsNPZW2STDnJHGrI6Emo0CfG8k5w/s200/P1210914.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484792706617004754" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN6sX5Ode3FibuFXvG9LMuCTw-Mt9oszgbC2993NvAsbNi-L0_5XhzrYHNMn87Qg2yblMYImHMBytBoxkWUnMzEHTzhnb3iF5oE94tGYDSVPUnO5cvkmtIaCnrQAI_-Gr-we0Vyg/s1600/P1210786.JPG"><img style="float: left; 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margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_xPqMZ6vVYaNp05_DL0clHFswSo8Ae1rjYRn9G_CGe8Qn7XQ99GYYx1I51R9CrE_CXDC2OKGlv5ptuL84NxMSVM4OPcdx8uQK3hgSetJq1z9GVPq2Y7PX30h_ryoOSRGIloSCg/s200/P1210894.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484790328996970658" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3nNeKY5OYNckYZJMrIt8tyQqhdQajX1z9JA3zdNMFNAdW3H_sTcoWDfX42toKK0dT9sQfutCOdPeHfPxef39JsZuxw6vvq_QWju5mR9gk57KOCxtbYB_JCWJ194tXNVaoBy5nQ/s1600/P1210662.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3nNeKY5OYNckYZJMrIt8tyQqhdQajX1z9JA3zdNMFNAdW3H_sTcoWDfX42toKK0dT9sQfutCOdPeHfPxef39JsZuxw6vvq_QWju5mR9gk57KOCxtbYB_JCWJ194tXNVaoBy5nQ/s200/P1210662.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484779584823525042" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXsSte_SjCnDxvStGgmn4IrD494uGz6Opzi0lBofdtoGZb_SIEehEmtEWfz_K-4Aw9doecIP0p3qk7rt7FTa6VspsRDgxS79bbBLqL0EjdWSmbYn_2bfuCChC-fzS8oTWCaiCjYA/s1600/P1220509.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXsSte_SjCnDxvStGgmn4IrD494uGz6Opzi0lBofdtoGZb_SIEehEmtEWfz_K-4Aw9doecIP0p3qk7rt7FTa6VspsRDgxS79bbBLqL0EjdWSmbYn_2bfuCChC-fzS8oTWCaiCjYA/s200/P1220509.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484793649200739938" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsk2W-LxsysptiIPSnaQAtt7J01RWigoXJg4j5fTRboVp_21bcJTcqCM11G9lt24AuH8e5Ee-u_XpdsdQnBDPt5Va53iyf2YZks62ScsveI4Do_zPbR7EUwqiZVDkzZbseXEC8Ng/s1600/P1230140.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsk2W-LxsysptiIPSnaQAtt7J01RWigoXJg4j5fTRboVp_21bcJTcqCM11G9lt24AuH8e5Ee-u_XpdsdQnBDPt5Va53iyf2YZks62ScsveI4Do_zPbR7EUwqiZVDkzZbseXEC8Ng/s200/P1230140.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484794706857359762" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTdNXk_xKHZjiN3fJebQHekScv-bKIc831amodk1S0vJ7d7Y2iKlFYAJ5SMjU8v-kF3lU1iRPqMs_ZOxyF7EnGZ2ixEMY1kEGQrZUa7xoAwp1YON_evWE3FPYZhyZEqibnIrw_FQ/s1600/P1220651.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTdNXk_xKHZjiN3fJebQHekScv-bKIc831amodk1S0vJ7d7Y2iKlFYAJ5SMjU8v-kF3lU1iRPqMs_ZOxyF7EnGZ2ixEMY1kEGQrZUa7xoAwp1YON_evWE3FPYZhyZEqibnIrw_FQ/s200/P1220651.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484794694740464274" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhED5tFoW8szdg5kEz8ojSMo5ojr1hReVgk6oXqk2VWM08PqMHOSTmdlakWmSJnnNyz-wAp8Wt1JLa6CYwFyUMsgsHZSzOnODPvscECCNp20W2z6raKwT8az6tD5TQQostfR6AUgw/s1600/P1220418.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhED5tFoW8szdg5kEz8ojSMo5ojr1hReVgk6oXqk2VWM08PqMHOSTmdlakWmSJnnNyz-wAp8Wt1JLa6CYwFyUMsgsHZSzOnODPvscECCNp20W2z6raKwT8az6tD5TQQostfR6AUgw/s200/P1220418.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484795892173708466" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZL-JqiWOBixPLek7SX1SqQFj9T2D4gu9K5i2Qz0K0HMQ2B6RtlvyL6kFpj2DBnsOo1yVHH5dExjgaCfH1KT3_2Q11R-eCGYWHFkpxrxhvtivVJD-JQklPp-3pch4tpbvXd580A/s1600/P1220696.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZL-JqiWOBixPLek7SX1SqQFj9T2D4gu9K5i2Qz0K0HMQ2B6RtlvyL6kFpj2DBnsOo1yVHH5dExjgaCfH1KT3_2Q11R-eCGYWHFkpxrxhvtivVJD-JQklPp-3pch4tpbvXd580A/s200/P1220696.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484795897279952210" border="0" /></a>janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-86475460037879707882010-03-19T11:29:00.000-07:002010-05-11T10:52:07.409-07:00Sri Lanka<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnJW2-8E_FKboA8Abhnrhgb97ykvkCMcweP7oO9TnGl3HZxDy61r1fzfcfXlFqmRf-lsmzlNfums-PZV8x-YjINnedu7PYsID5fbVVRnSoIpAjV7fdmSP93e_rbMJIdXXZCUFRw/s1600/P1220838.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnJW2-8E_FKboA8Abhnrhgb97ykvkCMcweP7oO9TnGl3HZxDy61r1fzfcfXlFqmRf-lsmzlNfums-PZV8x-YjINnedu7PYsID5fbVVRnSoIpAjV7fdmSP93e_rbMJIdXXZCUFRw/s200/P1220838.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464782662947928738" border="0" /></a>Saga cestovatelsky zvucnych mien nasej cesty sa konci na ostrove v tvare manga kusok na juhovychod od Indie. Ocitli sme sa tu neplanovane a spontanne. Tak to mame radi. Mozno aj preto sa zo Sri Lanky stal jeden z highlightov našej vypravy.<br />Na prvy, povrchny pohlad sa moze Lanka zdat iba kopia nedalekej Indie. Po lepsom preskumani ostrova a ostrovcanov je vsak rozdielov neurekom. Sri Lancania su kludnejsi, uprimnejsi a hlavne (zatial) neskazeni masovym turizmom. To co sme videli na severe Indie bol v podstate turisticky masaker. Sice sa mnohi tvarili ako ostrielani backpackeri, v skutocnosti to boli len konzumaci v etno vybave. Davy mladych zapadniakov vychutnavajucich si indicku ganju na terase hoteliku vo Varanassi su hlavnou pricinou tohto vyroku.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDqgBRojjXvMNGZElqFk0QjNs1iWPKv4yOULviWtB5O4hz5DTBO6J5qoCnwUADBUH9UX8YtjwnN3ABikv1xml-uFR1fhx95YG2qr456kfsyX4A5xHdtK7Iti-4Hv5T2N331h6snw/s1600/P1220987.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDqgBRojjXvMNGZElqFk0QjNs1iWPKv4yOULviWtB5O4hz5DTBO6J5qoCnwUADBUH9UX8YtjwnN3ABikv1xml-uFR1fhx95YG2qr456kfsyX4A5xHdtK7Iti-4Hv5T2N331h6snw/s200/P1220987.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470068272497673954" border="0" /></a><br />Prve dni sme atmosferu prirovnavali k ospalej Cube. Az neskor nam doslo, ze sme prileteli na prvy sviatok vianocny, jeden by povedal, ze v Azii nebude znamenat vela, ale v byvalej Britskej kolonii sa echo tohto krestanskeho sviatku stale silno ozyva. Neskor sa Colombo trocha prebralo, stale vsak posobilo ako sipova ruzenka tesne po bozku. Sri Lanka zaziva akesi nove rano. Po skoro 30 rocnej vojne, zakontrovanej devastujucov Tsunami, sa Lancania len pomali otvaraju novym moznostiam svojej slobody.<br />My sme si dali skoro tyzden vegetu a pokludneho vybavovania nevyhnutnosti v Colombe. Vybavili sme si predlzenie viz (bezproblemov), poslali balik a sup ho spat do chraneneho prostredia meditacneho centra. Oproti Barme je cela Sri Lanka nasiaknuta aromov slobody a pohody, najviac to vsak vinika v samotnom centre. Vedie ho Ctihodny Pemasiri Thera. Na zaciatku nam, priznam sa, trocha vybil dych. Predsa len sme si po mesiaci prisnej drezuri a discipliny zvykli na urcite sposoby spravania -ako naseho tak aj ucitelovho. Ked tu zrazu hlavny predstaveny "porusa" asi vsetko co nam bolo v Barme kladene na doraz minimalne raz denne. Rozprava prirodzene, pohybuje sa uvolnene, vtipkuje a smeje sa... Po par dnoch sme plne asimilovani a je nam jasne, ze toto je styl aky nam naplno vyhovuje. Valime uplne prirodzene a po tyzdni si uvedomujem, ze meditujem vlastne viac ako v Barme, kde sme nemohli ist pocas dna ani do svojich Kuti.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvr65HhD5hyphenhyphenPWEl180lBrBSgCnScDP3nijiwMZAzBuKEWFKuwk8vcdneh4FJZ4nbCI-nVJ7UlGrNxYG9cmqKhkz3_Cd_sJPS1U1lqTOt1B52G_BXhJ99-LfBu3azfK431kZCA-Gw/s1600/P1220968.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvr65HhD5hyphenhyphenPWEl180lBrBSgCnScDP3nijiwMZAzBuKEWFKuwk8vcdneh4FJZ4nbCI-nVJ7UlGrNxYG9cmqKhkz3_Cd_sJPS1U1lqTOt1B52G_BXhJ99-LfBu3azfK431kZCA-Gw/s200/P1220968.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464782673575166514" border="0" /></a>Po troch tyzdnoch na nas vymysleli lakadlo: vylet do Anuradhapury -hlavneho mesta Sri Lanky od roku 500 BC az do roku 1000 AD. Obdobie v ktorom na Sri Lanke prekvital Budhismus. Budhovo ucenie sem priniesol syn krala Asoku v tretom storoci pred kristom a pretrvava do teraz. Podla miestnych to vsak uz davno nie je to co to byvalo na zaciatku tohto tisicrocia... Zeby klasicka nostalgia? Nie, nie. Po zhliadnuti tohto velkomesta vykopaneho z nanosou hliny len pred 30timi rokmi je nam jasne, ze mnisi a lajici co tu prebyvali boli naozaj vysko vzedalani a osvieteni...<br />Nacerpali sme motivaciu a sup ho spat do centra. Valime dalej, v podstate neprerusene dalsich 5 tyzdnov. Na konci februara sme zakoncili intenzivny vycvik. Meditovat sme vsak neskoncili. Po troch mesiacoch to totiz uz ide samo... jedine ze sme prestali vysedavat s prekryzenymi nohami a zacali sme sa pohybovat po okoli.<br />Najprv sme si spravili tyzdnovy relaxacny okruh po juho zapade ostrova. Zacali sme v ospalej Mirise: plaz, palmy a santenie vo vlnach. Parada, ale more a slnko su prilis silne zivle pre nase zlemravene tela. Mna jedna vlna skoro zlomila v pase, dusko ma oskrete oba lakte tak padime radsej do dazdoveho pralesa Sinharaja. Do dedinky na okraji parku sa dostavame az vecer a kupodivu tu nie je an<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR4ynWlyT26ntG2PX8hAUaQ4S5_pPInnQuG_6UZOZPTaJCZxBQxWVeiUmrdYuGVSln9gHgcFt9ONs20Rodio4CSG9UvVX2zDkWss50UHOuTJ-UMWWpXemNitTMZDq_pfA_i1tNwQ/s1600/P1230073.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR4ynWlyT26ntG2PX8hAUaQ4S5_pPInnQuG_6UZOZPTaJCZxBQxWVeiUmrdYuGVSln9gHgcFt9ONs20Rodio4CSG9UvVX2zDkWss50UHOuTJ-UMWWpXemNitTMZDq_pfA_i1tNwQ/s200/P1230073.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470068279755550946" border="0" /></a>i hotel ani restauracia... hmm... kde budeme spat? Tuto otazku sme si v podstate ani nestihli polozit, pretoze nas hned odchitil mlady Basan a pozval nas k sebe domov. Na druhy den nas povodil po 7mich vodopadoch v pralese. Najkrajsi zazitok vsak zostava jeho rodinka prebyvajuca na kraji dediny, pri riecke, v lese. Okrem trocha betonu a plastu je to zivot asi ako pred 2000 rokmi... Dalej ideme do hor. V Haputale nas najprv vita kosa -15 stupnov, sa vam v europe moze zdat ako jar, ale mi nahadzujeme bundy a capice. Na druhy den davame prechadzku po hrebeni, zakoncenu na cajovej plantazi. Na dalsi den je na plane navsteva cajovej fabriky a vyslap na Lipton's seat. Krasna prechadzka po az skoro gicovych plantazach, ktore sa rozliehaju pokial oko dovidi. Kedze sme nechceli brat taxi na sedlo (dobra snobaren, ze?), tak sme sa moc vyhladu slavneho Liptona netesili. Vo fabrike strajkuju tak sme toho vela nevideli ani tam. Nevadi samotna prechadza bola super. Nakoniec nasej rozhybavacej vypravy vlacikom do Kendy a sup ho spat do centra.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyO3qvy9U26jN-3QplqEr-xnWIGUlUp3rwKUQApQ-mv-yfYCkvPxwOWE2MGCDGaA4-ySAQWqXy7nZLJaTRXrOW_438vku3b-RSD_hQC4rNIUyF7RZEDXu1D-fFJiqELUfI45LeNQ/s1600/P1230150.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyO3qvy9U26jN-3QplqEr-xnWIGUlUp3rwKUQApQ-mv-yfYCkvPxwOWE2MGCDGaA4-ySAQWqXy7nZLJaTRXrOW_438vku3b-RSD_hQC4rNIUyF7RZEDXu1D-fFJiqELUfI45LeNQ/s200/P1230150.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470069239213967090" border="0" /></a>Ctihodny Pemasiri nam slubil, ze nas zoberie este do svojho lesneho centra, ale ked sme sa vratili, tak nam oznamil, ze auto je pokazene... nevadi, ideme sami autobusom. Este ze snami poslal mladeho Ct. Amithu. Ten tam bol pol roka tak to dobre pozna... Tri nove Kuti uprostred dzungle -miestny by to sice dzunglov nenazvali, ale pre Europanov je to dostatocna divocina. Travime tu nas posledny vykend, pred tym nes sa zacne nas navrat do civilizacie. Rozplyvame sa nad touto rajskou zahradou, meditujeme a zhlboka vychutnavame plody nasej cesty. Krasna rozlucka. Dokonala bodka.<br />Potom uz len spat do centra, balenie, lucenia sa s mnichmi a sup ho na letisko. Tam kempujeme na druhom poschodi pri svetle neoniek a filmovej hudbe hrajucej na celom letisku... zaciname sa europanizovat. Ale nie tak zhurta, rano nam na check in oznamuju, ze lietadlo bude meskat, pohoda... co znamena, ze my zmeskame pripoj v Ammame do Viedne. Takze spime v Jordansku. Vytame to pozitivne, okrem toho, ze neprideme nevyspaty, neprideme ani vyhladoveny: v 4 hviezdickovom hotely je totiz bufet s neodolatelnymi dobrotami a kedze nas nepustia za h<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHkpuoPreHtG1dOF6lfq32XO35gJ1RjeTE9ACGcD5_gHn_aZ8lKIKYLLvWsw8Oht_F7Epz8PY9EpZ0Kja-WhiSwjmQqEcfuobeGO0Xanrmt3f9_NMI4_DvaMUw_ApwQByTSIY21w/s1600/P1230293.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHkpuoPreHtG1dOF6lfq32XO35gJ1RjeTE9ACGcD5_gHn_aZ8lKIKYLLvWsw8Oht_F7Epz8PY9EpZ0Kja-WhiSwjmQqEcfuobeGO0Xanrmt3f9_NMI4_DvaMUw_ApwQByTSIY21w/s200/P1230293.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470070503159994898" border="0" /></a>ranice hotela, tak vacsinu casu travime v jedalni. Tento chlapik na ulici v Kendy by asi reagoval podobne. Dobre padne aj aklimatizacia na zimu. Strasnych 15 stupnov citime ako tesne nad bodom mrazu. Hold posledne mesiace sme sa potili 24 hodin denne, takze nase tela maju zmenene vnimania teploty.<br />Vo viedni milim a srdecnym privitanim Lucky a Danky zacalo nase opatovne posobenie v europe. Citim sa skor akoby som zacinal nieco uplne od zaciatku. Tento vylet bol naozaj zivotna cesta ako tvrdil Dusko a nie len vylet do Azie.janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-58407718660214916852009-12-26T23:56:00.000-08:002010-04-27T04:24:17.334-07:00Burma<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidu9Z66fNLLxbYphZTafa5akLLBo1Imu4JyJXtIPkK1LWFn3wD7L_ykrJCs3B-Qy_qi8q_2iVWI5UmEa_hyVX6p1daH97VX-HJErINMqf8yxhkCKQHxfL07oLQ-EpIGDlMZGZ5uA/s1600/P1220769.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidu9Z66fNLLxbYphZTafa5akLLBo1Imu4JyJXtIPkK1LWFn3wD7L_ykrJCs3B-Qy_qi8q_2iVWI5UmEa_hyVX6p1daH97VX-HJErINMqf8yxhkCKQHxfL07oLQ-EpIGDlMZGZ5uA/s200/P1220769.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464750585678549506" border="0" /></a>Z cestovatelskeho hladiska sme v Burme (Myanmar) ani neboli. A to sme tam stravili mesiac, resp. presne 28 dni ako nam umoznovali nase viza. Kedze nas povodny plan bol 3 mesiace, z coho sme 2 chceli meditovat a mesiac cestovat, rozhodli sme sa ze si pozreme iba Yangon a zbytok stravime najuslachtilejsie ako si len vieme predstavit.<br />Panditarama forest meditation centrum, kde sme mali namierene, je vsak velmi zbehle v starani sa o zahranicnych meditujucich a tak nas z letiska zobrali priamo knim. Krasne a obrovske, kludne a velmi prisne, presne ako opisovali znami, ktori tu uz boli pred nami. Nachadza sa necelu hodinku od Yangonu. Obrovsky pozemok je plny jazierok s leknami. Mosty, cesticky, otvorene luky aj huste lesy. Rovnomerne roztrusene kuti (chatky) pre mnichov aj meditujucich. Obrovska meditacka a velka jedalen, prezradzaju, ze sem chodieva vela ludi.<br />Prisli sme a uz bol vecer. Hlavnej mnisky sme sa spytali ci mozeme ist zajtra spat to mesta, ze by sme si kupili vankuse a sarongi (sukne pre muzov). "Netreba. Vsetko tu mame, vsetko vam dame"<br />Na druhy den sme zaspali ranajky -rano o 3tej sme fakt neboli zvyknuty vstavat a ranajky o 5tej sme tiez "necakali". Este ze nas prisiel mnisko zobudit... Planovali sme den-dva porelaxovat, ale hlavny sayadow (mnich) nas uviedol zakladnymi instrukciami, ako pre skolacikou, do meditacnej praxe a oznamil nam, ze nepovoluju rozpravanie, prechadzanie sa... na meditacie vcas, nemozete odchadzat z meditacnej haly... Same prikazy a zakazy. To je co? Vazenie? Vedeli sme ze je to tu prisne, ale asi tie mesiace bezprostredneho putovania a totalnej slobody zmenili nase vnimanie volnosti. Toto je peklo! Nevadi zacali sme valit, vsak sme prisli do ciela!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBV1UqitI-vzs5CcGXIecsh9K7MoIWhJc3v5hEsQwpKbL-yPpQy3H83dq8ln3-kwONuw6qR5K6so278QT7GGNjyA2qFwAQYWEFtiobRotnqapVi-C5L1gQBXCPcIw0Q-Tz8T7vQ/s1600/P1220766.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBV1UqitI-vzs5CcGXIecsh9K7MoIWhJc3v5hEsQwpKbL-yPpQy3H83dq8ln3-kwONuw6qR5K6so278QT7GGNjyA2qFwAQYWEFtiobRotnqapVi-C5L1gQBXCPcIw0Q-Tz8T7vQ/s200/P1220766.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464750575760584482" border="0" /></a>Sed, chodza, sed, chodza... cely den, len o 5tej a o 10tej to trocha zpestria ranajky a obed. Uz sme si pred tym nieco odmeditovali takze presne vieme ako fungovat v takychto podmienkach. Panditarama je skvele centrum. Lepsie podmienky na meditovanie sme este nemali. Klima uplne idealna. Rano prijemne chladivo az kosa, ktoru som vsak velmi uvital, pretoze to bola aspon jedna cas dna ked sa dalo trocha schladit. Cez obed to bol cisty vypek, ale meditacka je dobre odizolovana, takze sa celkom dalo zvladat sprchovat iba raz denne. Co som v Malajzii, pred rokom nedaval.<br />Ale su tu aj zvlastne veci. Ten teror je fakt nezvycajny. Pokial clovek medituje tak sa to da zvladat, ale ked som niektore dni mal krizu a potreboval som trocha vypnut, tak som sa vela krat pristihol pri myslienkach ako sa zasit a skryt? Naco je to dobre? Iba vo mne vyvstavala averzia a iritacia. A tlacit sa do meditovania je horsie ako vobec nemeditovat. Tiez je zaujimavy ten paradox ako rigidne tlacia pravidla a predpisi a potom vam kludne zrusia interview s ucitelom alebo zamenia ucitela. Alebo nemozete cvicit tai-chi ani yogu, rozpravanie je uplne mimo ramec. A pritom nezmyselne oznami tykajuce sa jedneho ci dvoch meditujucich su neustale nahlas vyhlasovane do mikrofonu.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0I5jk0cZw8qyKYaf8HiPImiE6ldCfqLjDsDHxQ_MfAoXWOld1J8IE2o_YZdFw9OJBouEV_ommceT6DW32nmUB2MCfknguheGDIUWLkhNXyry73JkndjOK0C-rUG-KeNMH2NzeZQ/s1600/P1220772.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0I5jk0cZw8qyKYaf8HiPImiE6ldCfqLjDsDHxQ_MfAoXWOld1J8IE2o_YZdFw9OJBouEV_ommceT6DW32nmUB2MCfknguheGDIUWLkhNXyry73JkndjOK0C-rUG-KeNMH2NzeZQ/s200/P1220772.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464750598439878210" border="0" /></a>Asi vam je jasne, ze som tu prve dva tyzdne celkom zapasil, dokonca som aj chcel oddist. Uz som mal oprate veci, ale povedal som si ze to este skusim a zabojujem. Dobre som spravil. Zostal som az do samotneho konca a meditacie isli krok po krociku dalej.<br />Posledny den nas opat iba supli do auta a zobrali na letisko. Tentokrat bolo aspon svetlo a tak sme videli dedinky a mestecka popri ceste. Zaujimavi boli uz len ludia v autobusoch a pickupoch. Nemuseli sme sa na seba ani pozriet a bolo nam jasne, ze sem este urcite prideme, ale az ked dozreje ten spravny cas a mi budeme dobre pripraveny -ako meditacne tak aj vizovo.janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-67837025099893045362009-12-26T21:30:00.000-08:002010-04-26T03:24:32.571-07:00India<span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-size:85%;" >NB: I switch back to Slovak. Sorry all you folks.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicNwo8hBnb4OvW5kiajlzTye1XFIY6gsRY4B12BkC7_lEEhWxOHOz3qzEhw_2rBbg-Q4AeiYHupgeSVIQiAtLwM_Pz1m0NMMH6qd1lSIbaZqhH7LiaPLoP-PAceFoy_CODJc9zkw/s1600/P1220529.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicNwo8hBnb4OvW5kiajlzTye1XFIY6gsRY4B12BkC7_lEEhWxOHOz3qzEhw_2rBbg-Q4AeiYHupgeSVIQiAtLwM_Pz1m0NMMH6qd1lSIbaZqhH7LiaPLoP-PAceFoy_CODJc9zkw/s200/P1220529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464377101031424290" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeRmXv5FdprfTt9lh3w4HQw7BgTscC-t-_buKrCMJ07onlh_wz9vLSkmALD2B6YiNpoALgW0PA9iXVwbQysLdba7oezO_pkVUXVnSM4zJu1sWQEXXKc3KHu4ax5ieu9t4MN-yFEQ/s1600/P1220581.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeRmXv5FdprfTt9lh3w4HQw7BgTscC-t-_buKrCMJ07onlh_wz9vLSkmALD2B6YiNpoALgW0PA9iXVwbQysLdba7oezO_pkVUXVnSM4zJu1sWQEXXKc3KHu4ax5ieu9t4MN-yFEQ/s200/P1220581.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464378288243057010" border="0" /></a>Prekrocenie harnice bolo magicke. Spominam si ako mi kedysi davno ludia hovorili aky je to kontrast, aka ulava prejst z Pakistanu do Indie. My sme boli v muslimskom svete nieco okolo 4 mesiacov a celkom sme si nanho zvykli. Najlepsi bol Pakistan, citili sme sa tam velmi prijemne a uvolnene. Ludia nas prilis netlacili, neokradali... To co prislo po pozreti si zatvaracej ceremonie na hranici vo Wagha, bolo neskutocne. Tato teatralna fraska kde sa vojaci oboch stran pretekaju kdo vypochoduje s vysie vykopnutou nohou (inac celkom yoginske vykony) je celkom vtipna a vystihuje patetickost celych Indicko - Pakistanskych vztahov.<br /><br />Pre zretelnejsiu predstavu o rozdieloch medzi tym co sme zazili na ceste v poslednych mesiacoch a co sa vsetko zmenilo po prekroceni jednej ciary na mape ma napadaju dve prirovnania:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHg_6GtwcnnDO8bkhyphenhyphen5uJvCbMOgTSYxiZnHVCrOih26qSakXsa5I1goW-kmC1XI_iPdooNcisoJESQLufVIujJwdGnO7m9ZMkhzj8vcxbVi45zjYDBcgayJYd6Fw7hRCScDttj6g/s1600/P1220679.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHg_6GtwcnnDO8bkhyphenhyphen5uJvCbMOgTSYxiZnHVCrOih26qSakXsa5I1goW-kmC1XI_iPdooNcisoJESQLufVIujJwdGnO7m9ZMkhzj8vcxbVi45zjYDBcgayJYd6Fw7hRCScDttj6g/s200/P1220679.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464379409444187298" border="0" /></a><br />Pamatate si casy ked boli ciernobiele televizory beznostou? Nie je to az tak strasne davno. Prve farebne obrazovky este neboli uplne to co mame teraz a predsa to bol maly zazrak. Skuste si predstavit ake by to bolo pozerat filmy na CB obrazovke, na ktorej chytate iba STV1 a STV2 a potom zrazu sa dostat k LCD panelu s kablovkou kde je 100 programov!<br />Dalsie prirovnanie by sa dalo situovat do cias pred 89-tim. Ludia uz boli zvyknuty na to co maju, co je dostupne... Vsetko to bolo akosi normalne, nie? Ked tu zrazu sa otvorili hranice a hned prva navsteva Rakuska vam ukazala, ze svet dokoaze byt ovela farebnejsi. Vyber v obchodoch neporovnatelny. Moznosti ludi zdanlivo neobmedzene. S tymto samozrejme suvisia aj vedlajsie efetky.<br />Iran a Pakistan boli v podstate velmi cudne krajny. Ludia chodia zakryti. Zeny sa s cudzimi muzmi nerospravaju. Vsetko je jednoduche a preto krasne. Zatial co volnost a sloboda maju aj svoju odvratenu tvar...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixSI4xoz27G02DzvRqegAwH5nkdoSNp52b61k2U0wN0olpCY7nHEBK5WymGpAUhTB_NuA3Bsl3FORH-cUTBLt-b1C-jEVl5jbWn36iDFhv7krb92DTkSz6Q7bSaGLrw6O3SlyEew/s1600/P1220659.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixSI4xoz27G02DzvRqegAwH5nkdoSNp52b61k2U0wN0olpCY7nHEBK5WymGpAUhTB_NuA3Bsl3FORH-cUTBLt-b1C-jEVl5jbWn36iDFhv7krb92DTkSz6Q7bSaGLrw6O3SlyEew/s200/P1220659.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464382660722038866" border="0" /></a>Z hranice vo Wagha sme si zobrali share taxi do Armitsaru -putnicke mesto Sikhov. V taxiku snami isli dvaja indovia a jedna indka. Starsia pani. Cely cas sa veselo a akosi hlucne bavila priamo s nami!!!??? Dusan to skoro nerozdychal. Nieco neskutocne. Nebola zahalena od hlavy po paty, neodvracala zrak ked sme sa len pribilizili. Prave naopak. Vypytovala sa. Rozhadzovala rukami a co viac: smiala sa!!! Toto nas malo pripravit na to co prichadza. V Armitsare sme isli priamo do Golden Templu -najsvatejsi chram, kde denne ubytuju tisice ludi a nakrmnia este vacsie hordy. Vsetci sa na nas usmievaju, wow?! Ludia spia na zemy. Pre cudzincov tam sice maju separe izbu, ale je sezona, takze nas tam bolo celkom dost. Ludia z celeho sveta. Backpackery aj obycajny turisti. Mlade baby aj seriozny putnici. My sme posobili ako ludia co prisli zo samotky. Vobec som nebol zvyknuty komunikovat so zenami. Prislo mi velmi zaujimave, ze sme sa mohli bavit o hocicom. Nie len o nabozenstve, resp. islame. Nie zeby v Irane a Pakistane neboli cudzinci. Boli. Ale drviva vacsina to boli tzv. overlanders. Asi nikdo nemal Pakistan ako ciel. Vzdy to boli mesiace az roky co ludia cestovali. Ked tu zrazu ludia prileteli na dva tri tyzdne, co je dost velka zmena v style cestovania. Vsak to vidim aj na sebe. Na Indiu nam zostal tyzden! To som viac casu stravil v samostnom Islamabade ci Lahore... a tu sa hodlame prejst celu severnu Indiu z Armitsaru az do Kalkaty.<br />Dalsia velka zmena boli obchody, hlavne jedlo. Tolko moznosti a chuti. Rychlo sme sice zistili, ze vsetko je to brutalne prepalene chili a ciernym korenim, ale na zaciatku sa nam to pacilo. Povodne sme v Armistare planovali zostat iba jeden den. Hlavnym cielom bolo samozrejme Varanasi. Ale vlakova situacia -nam doteraz uplne neznama -je v indii velmi zvlastna. Listky si treba rezervovat dopredu. Najskorsi listok sa nam podarilo zohnat az o tri dni aj to iba na klimatizovanu triedu (3 nasobna cena, avsak stale smiestna suma...). Vzapati sme si vsak kupil listky s Varanasi do Kalkaty. Aj bezna trieda o 6 dni bola uz vypredana, ale existuje tu tzv. cakacy list, tak sme si kupili listky pod ciarov. My sme boli 10ty a 11ty. Zevraj dovtedy sa urcite niekto odhlasi a tato pozicia sa bezne dostane na radu. OK...<br />Nasledovali dva dni vo vlaku, co je zazitok a skusenost sama o sebe. Tu je zivo. Vsetko sa da kupit priamo s lozka. Krajna na vokol sama exoticka a ludia takpodobne. Do Varanasi sme prisli celkom sviezi a zrelaxovani. To bolo dobre, pretoze toto farebne a vibrujuce mesto na Ganghe ma najhektickejsiu premavku a vobec ruch ludi aky si asi ani neviete predstavit. Na cestach aj bocnych cestickach je to konstatny prud ludi, zvierat, aut, motoriek, bicyklov a kariciek. Stale sa na nas niekto lepil. Muchy dohadzovacky. Nebolo jednoduche si najst hotel samostatne bez toho aby si niekto neprilepsil tym "ze nas tam dovedie". Zlozili sme sa a hura do uliciek. Highlight cislo jedna bolo spalovanie mrtvol. Na ghate (schodisku) ktore sa patricne volalo burning ghat sme najprv nic nevideli. Tak sme sa len tak prechadzali uzskymi ulickami a vychutnavali vone a chute. K veceru sme smerovali spat k hotelu, ked tu zrazu ohienky. Hm... ale kde su tie mrtvoli? Aha, tam trci noha, jaj a na druhej strane je hlava! Tento obraz mi zostane v pamati asi trocha dlhsie. Skvariace sa maso a potiaca sa koza. Na niektorych bolo vidno kosti. Spalovaci chodili dokola a prihadzovali drevo. Niektore mrtvoli trebalo upravit tak im surovo palicami zlomili nohy a supli do hlavneho ziaru... Velmi dobre obrazy pred nasim zasedom v Barme.<br />Na druhy den sme sa plne oddali shopingu. Suveniry a darceky. Je tu toho na vyber neskutocne a ceny su prave indicke... zopar Ghandiov sem, zopar tam a ani nevieme ako "spusta" prachov v cudu.<br />Dalsie dva dni vo vlaku. Tentokrat vsak v beznej triede a stym ze na stanici nam dali iba jeden listok. Ten druhy sa nezmestil nad ciaru. Povedali vsak ze kludne mozeme ist do vlaku. Lozka boli celkom velke tak sme si s Duskom povedali ze ideme na to. Vlastne nam ani nic ine nezostavalo ak sme chceli stihnut lietadlo. Nuz ale dvaja na lozku bola naivna predstava. Na zaciatku sme tam boli styria. Dobre to este nebola noc tak sme sedeli. Ked uz vsak na nas prisla ospalost a chceli sme sa trochu natiahnut, tak vobec nebolo jednoduche nasich spolusediacich vyhodit. Jeden znich mal kalasnikov a tak sme to s drzostou nechceli prehanat. Par hodin sme sa tam tlacili traja. V polke noci sme vsak uspeli a na lozku sme boli iba mi dvaja, co sa uz celkom dalo. Spali sme az do rana.<br />Kalkata bola kupodivu celkom moderna. Kolonialna. Pozreli sme si iba vecerne ulice a rano sup ho na letisko.<br />Takto vyzerala India zvlaku... raz dva tri a bol koniec. Po mesiacoch pomaleho a kludneho cestovania to boli fakt fofri, ale tak co uz. Povedali sme si ze sa sem este vratime. Len som zvedavy kedy?janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-39158920571745898742009-11-15T02:03:00.000-08:002009-11-15T02:04:56.678-08:00Cycling to Asia, Dusan 5Predchadzajuci clanok sa niesol v znameni velkych, dnes uz naplnenych, cyklistickych snov, o ktore by som sa s Vami teraz rad podelil.<br />Vzhladom na cas, bezpecnost a zaujimavost roznych usekov Karakoram Higway (KKH) sme sa zhodli na tom, ze najlepsie bude ak sa na sever odvezieme autobusom, kus pobyciklujeme a naspat do Islamabadu opat autobusom.<br />Neznajuc toho naco si treba dat pri volbe autobusu pozor, nasadli sme do prveho lacneho, ktory nam bol ponuknuty. Nasledovalo 26 hodin nezabudnutelnej jazdy v autobuse s nefungujucimi tlmicmi. Na polorozbitej KKH sme teda precitili kazdy kamienok a prejazd mensou dierou v ceste znamenal nieco ako slabsiu ranu do zaludka. No brutalitka:) Posledne dve hodiny sme prezili len vdaka balancovaniu v polostoji.. Nadsenie krajinou, ktora nas obklopovala vsak bolo intenzivnejsie ako utrpenie z jazdy a tak sme do prijemneho baltistanskeho Skardu dorazili bez vaznych dusevnych ujmov a po dni rekonvalescencie boli opat pripraveni nasadnut na nasich ocelovych tatosov, smerom do rozpravky..<br />Jesen v udoli Skardu tiahnucom sa asi 200 km vychodne od KKH bola vo svojej azda najkrajsej tohtorocnej etape. Strme skalnate himalajske stity, v upatiach lemovane pozlatenymi polickami, lesikmi a alejami, pomedzi ktore si svoju cestu razil dravy Indus, vyrazali dych. Cesta sledujuca divoku riecnu riavu obcas zachadzala do zabudnutych horskych dedin, kde sa dali pozorovat jesenne prace najjednoduchsich ludi, akych nase oci dosial uzreli. Obcasne zastavenie na presladeny caj zanechalo dojem zazitia stredoveku. Zivotu na ulici v Pakistane celkovo dominuje muzska spolocnost. Zeny mozno v horach zhliadnut len v doprovode deti, pri praci na poli alebo hrbiace sa pod obrovskymi kosmi plnymi zasob razdia na tuhu zimu. Marne pokusy zvacnit ich takto fotoaparatom vraj mohli skoncit aj horsie ako len nevrlymi pohladmi. A asi je to dobre, za niecim treba jednoducho cestovat dalej ako len na vystavu, prezentaciu..<br />Ako na najkrajsi moment cyklistiky v udoli Skardu spominam na chvilu pred opatovnym napojenim sa na KKH. Najpanenskejsia priroda bola uz za nami a ja som zacal stale inenzivnejsie prezivat pominutelnost prijemneho prezivania nadhernych scenerii. Niezeby som zrazu osmutnel, prave naopak. V jednej chvili som v mysli pozoroval tak nadsenie okolim ako i vedomie pominutelnosti tychto i inych krasnych momentov v zivote putnika. Skratka, akoby som to prezival tak nejak plnsie, realnejsie. Cele som to prezival a zdielal s Jancim, ktoreho prave klatila horucka a bolave hrdlo, co este vacsmi umocnovalo ono poznanie. ..na horizonte masiv Nanga Parbat v plnej parade..<br />Po troch dnoch cyklistiky nasledoval tyzden nutneho relaxu v meste Giligit. ..taka uz himalajska matematika:) Neskor sa autobusom presuvame dalej na sever az takmer k cinskym hraniciam, kde sa nasa stvorica rozdeluje. Kevin s Arjanom slapu az na samotny sever, spravit si v khunjerabskom priesmyku svoj osobny rekord. Prilezitost vyslapat do cca 4700 m n.m. sa hold nenaskyta kazdy den. My s Jancim sa pustame na juh, smer niekdajsie kralovstvo Hunza, legendarna oblast KKH. Nasleduju styri dni ozajstnej cyklistickej Odysei. S vedomim toho, ze toto su posledne cyklisticke kilometre nasej velkej cesty, slapeme velmi pomaly, lahucko. Uveliceni dokonalym prirodno-kulturynym divadlom sa akoby len presuvame z jedneho miesta s nadhernym vyhladom na druhe. Posedavame, obdivujeme, prezivame.. Vsetko v hlbokej harmonii nas samotnych s rozpravkovym okolim. Kralovska rozlucka.. <br />V Gilgite opat nasadame na autobus, ktory nas po 20 "zaujimavych" hodinach prenasa spat do tepleho Islamabadu, kde si mame splnit uz len dve povinnosti. Poslat domov bycikle a vyzdvihnut barmske viza. Oboje bolo, ako inac, zazitkom. Navsteva barmskej ambasady tym menej prijemnym. Vsetko potrebne na ziskanie viz sme odoslali postou z Gilgitu a podla prvotnych slov Ubu (Ujo barmsky uradnicek) mali byt viza vystavene po 3-4 dnoch. Prekvapenie prve - Ubu nam oznamuje, ze nase dokumenty sice dostal, no nemohol ich odoslat dalej na spracovanie do Barmy, pretoze nevidel original nasho pasu. S usmevom na tvari nam oznamuje, ze mame vraj pockat dalsich 7-10 dni. Vravime si, dobre, tyzden volna urcite hodnotne zuzitkujeme. Nestihame sice indicky Himacal Prades, no Varanasi a Bodhgaja budu stacit.. Prekvapenie druhe - po desiatich dnoch nam Ubu oznamuje, ze ziadame o specialny druh viz a cely proces sa pretiahne o dalsich 10-12 dni.<br />To uz je trochu prisilna kava. Nielenze uz pozname kazde zakutie umeleho, nahle vystavaneho Islamabadu (predovsetkym sektory G8 a F10..), mesta bez duse, Indiu uvidime len z okna vlaku, ale zacina vazne hrozit, ze nestihneme lietadlo z Kalkaty do Rangunu..<br />A co sa s tym celym da robit? Po zvazeni hrstky moznosti si konecne uvedomujeme, ze jedine rozumne riesenie, spociva v zmiereni sa so situaciou a trpezlivom vyckavani. Prijat zmenene podmienky a prisposobit sa im, velka to zivotna vyzva. Tak teda budujeme neoblomnu trpezlivost, no zaroven nestracame nadej, ze sa na nas opat raz Allah usmeje a vsetko tak nejak priaznivo dopadne. Ved nie len o tom, co si v zivote naplanujeme a automaticky zacneme povazovat za to - pre nas - najlepsie, je zivot:)<br /><br />Romantika, to je trocha stradania s velkym povznesenim, Priatelia!janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-61922162195059490202009-11-09T06:50:00.000-08:002010-06-20T01:56:39.557-07:00Cycling to Asia, The End<span style="font-size:130%;">You know, everything comes to an end. Inevitable as sunset and maybe sad as broken heart, but universal. </span><br /><br />So did our cycling part of this journey. But no need to be sad because we continue to move eastwards. We are merely just changing our way of transport. Bicycles -as beautiful and independent they are -have one disadvantage: time. Many would argue that this is not really a problem. Of course! All it's needed is plenty of it and all is fine. But planing is something that we don't like to do more than necessary so now we run out of this unique concept. We have simply no time to cycle from Islamabad to Kolkata. It's not only our fault. One thing is that the Karakoram was to tantalizing to resist going there. Other reasons are that stomach problems are almost inevitable in dirty country like Pakistan. Catching flue the same. And lastly but not the least is there the factor Burmese embassy. If we would like to blame somebody, than they are the easiest victims. But we try to take everything as it is and as it comes. So all we have to do is to adjust to this situation. Good for keeping flexible.<br /><br />Section Backpacking is starting. First get rid of all unnecessary stuff. Get a cartoon box, disassemble the bicycle, clean all the parts, pack it, bring the 25kg parcel to the post office. Here go trough tons of odd procedures -highlight is sewing the box into cotton bag and send your never tired companion home. OK, one thing done. Than decide what to take with you -not too much since now you're gonna carry it on your back, not too little since cold can be miserable. Now back what's not needed and send it home. Yeah so little things. No tent, no stove and cooking gear and no winter cloths... What for? India and Burma are going to be warm.<br /><br />Dusan caught some bad cough. Nothing pleasant, but what time is better to heal properly than waiting one week (so far...) in boring modern capital of Pakistan? Packing and preparing for backpacking is surprisingly time consuming. So far we didn't have to deal with train schedules, bus time tables and hotels for shelter. Bicycle gives you lot of freedom. No hassle. No time stress. If a town is too far to reach in a day, no problem, just camp somewhere before it and finish the journey the other day. You cycle as much as you feel like. You are the manager of your time.<br /><br />Now things change. Trains leave if we are late. Buses don't stop when we would like to have a break. Hotels might be full and camping is literally out of reach in India. No big deal, at least we can easily send the tent home. Good thing is that we can start focusing on other things. No fatigue from cycling. No need to take shower every day. Time to read. Time to meditate... Burma is behind the door steps so why not to calm down a bit. After a week we are ready. Now just pick up the so desired visa and GO!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">NB: This is a big change. I thing next trip is going to be quite ordinary so I will most likely not update so many new articles. But India will be full of surprises so maybe not. Never-less the section "Cycling to Asia" is definitely over. </span>janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-40498736579557795122009-11-04T05:54:00.000-08:002009-11-06T07:01:16.730-08:00Cycling to Asia, week 15<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCb014MLuEO1IQhuwGkQwmkaWW3UUVpUg6WE0ehwmJCqCyrjqeRgqoxfS8wDqB2hk3z5D9p4rW71kSBegt2meGIPugkQ1RiYXa5WlE_gKjYfXujfWqvMA2bDgP-zYFVubKRfJUqQ/s1600-h/P1220247.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCb014MLuEO1IQhuwGkQwmkaWW3UUVpUg6WE0ehwmJCqCyrjqeRgqoxfS8wDqB2hk3z5D9p4rW71kSBegt2meGIPugkQ1RiYXa5WlE_gKjYfXujfWqvMA2bDgP-zYFVubKRfJUqQ/s200/P1220247.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400995804228602434" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMK1qXjc_jdVez0k0CFO2aU5T6LSHuiR6fwVIEyunwipP35IYAnZWD5eYFk-37_Gd1emh0ojhBojEHYqzoY6dDNgl782jUW_NjlKfDs7RFTXPSChvtg9lSBQg2B01Wx_ewPDtIjg/s1600-h/P1220223.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMK1qXjc_jdVez0k0CFO2aU5T6LSHuiR6fwVIEyunwipP35IYAnZWD5eYFk-37_Gd1emh0ojhBojEHYqzoY6dDNgl782jUW_NjlKfDs7RFTXPSChvtg9lSBQg2B01Wx_ewPDtIjg/s200/P1220223.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400994077898354866" border="0" /></a><br />Why? Why do people willingly undertake such hardship as: long train trips, discomfort in buses, food poisoning, almost a heatstroke from hot weather, catching flue in cold mountains, diarrhea, fever, dirt everywhere, fatigue etc just to see something or in the better case experience other things? Yes, the nature can be beautiful and calming. The cities are just the opposite. Is that temple worth it? Or is it the ancient statue? All is just impermanent peaces of stones or bricks... But I like it!!!<br /><br />No, no traveling is awes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzeX2UrLyX6HSNaOcJ43WVqR7pP7pPcwXZa43SmrWHxraR7J0lstOZAv9-3WiLYJqeaB34aotVTmXf576vuGfVOAk3zPOJ6tp1WB8orRDOFjMY6YqDHVrl-LAoqAlxJt0zi4B_RQ/s1600-h/P1220228.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzeX2UrLyX6HSNaOcJ43WVqR7pP7pPcwXZa43SmrWHxraR7J0lstOZAv9-3WiLYJqeaB34aotVTmXf576vuGfVOAk3zPOJ6tp1WB8orRDOFjMY6YqDHVrl-LAoqAlxJt0zi4B_RQ/s200/P1220228.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400995800037906978" border="0" /></a>ome. The experiences are useful, knowing the cultures as well -just that the side effects can be shocking sometimes longlasting. After severe cold that took 8 days to get back most of my previous strength we finally left Gilgit. I still didn't feel much like cycling but I really had enough of lying around. We took a bus to Sost -just 80 km from the Chinese border. A journey in a small overcrowded peace of junk on the "best quality" gravel road is unforgettable -specially when it stretch from original 8 hours to 10 hours... The sardines in tin have better conditions... Sost is 2700 m high which is obvious from the first moment you stretch your legs from the bus. Cold and hostile -this was probably just due to another power cut, but still. Cold hotel room and freezing water -what can beat this?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI0Tezq6aOgX4zTNrgrkdQY1IBJ27M14BOtUhI2t_oON9pXUrtw5I8U32NzsKeJcVtVUVLsQJI92QRJjArDsszpWRdKbXYJBB9b1JLp9unY8Y9NV0Bt6nCgbe71XRyz1vVYU1cFQ/s1600-h/P1220286.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI0Tezq6aOgX4zTNrgrkdQY1IBJ27M14BOtUhI2t_oON9pXUrtw5I8U32NzsKeJcVtVUVLsQJI92QRJjArDsszpWRdKbXYJBB9b1JLp9unY8Y9NV0Bt6nCgbe71XRyz1vVYU1cFQ/s200/P1220286.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400997514282855138" border="0" /></a><br />Kevin and Arjan likes challenges so they decided to finish the whole KKH and cycle to the Khunjerab pass. Just a 80 km of pushing the pedals up the hill all the way to 4700m. Nothing for us. Me and Dusan don't have to experience everything. Riding down to the south is good enough. Finally just us two. Lads were fine, but riding in two and riding in four or five is another story. Well and me and Dusan got pretty well together... some easy riding followed. Except the first day form Sost. The sun didn't show up. The frost everywhere is real and the barren landscape around makes the whole scenery quite hostile. There are no trees just rocky slopes and gravel road, together with the wind it's a survival riding -OK, OK, with little bit of exaggeration. My sore throat doesn't help. The cold is<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Yr1qr6ao6LO-8H2Xq97SSjRtf64Jg93prcHGnff9ND6xGOKOlHwH4Fo3FiVA-CL-W4w-Hj8LoXAoxGBFGPTmSkzLbyN-d8O76QrPPC7KaDJISKQPTPVKmjLM0jZImV6YQyhNKQ/s1600-h/P1220269.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Yr1qr6ao6LO-8H2Xq97SSjRtf64Jg93prcHGnff9ND6xGOKOlHwH4Fo3FiVA-CL-W4w-Hj8LoXAoxGBFGPTmSkzLbyN-d8O76QrPPC7KaDJISKQPTPVKmjLM0jZImV6YQyhNKQ/s200/P1220269.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400995813155707442" border="0" /></a> sheer. I enjoy that, never less.<br />The next days changed a lot. Simply add a sunshine and you can cut the happiness from our faces. We ride trough the heart of Hunza valley -easily background for paradise stories. Autumn colored the whole scenery with extravagant colors. Sun pleasantly warms us up. The peaks are covered with white toppings. The sky is turquoise and the KKH is excellent cycle path (but horrible road if you plan to drive trough). We stop on every turning and take pictures of every valley. World like from a fairy tale is obvious statement, but I can't avoid it.<br />We camped in Aliabad, with the view of majestic Rakaposhi (7700m). The night is "fresh", but our gear is good enough. Minimalism is extremism. Not recommended!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2STOacn0KXlTk3r90GkkpVSIXidO0OdvATQwd5QJPRvDspajZ2TcLzPchRexU1_3VISdlyzm4xqerLJyCgBo-ZDEVABStXEYXkD3gzVAT7NbVGKTn2lhQVEWNmE2MIFlXKCRUA/s1600-h/P1220328.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2STOacn0KXlTk3r90GkkpVSIXidO0OdvATQwd5QJPRvDspajZ2TcLzPchRexU1_3VISdlyzm4xqerLJyCgBo-ZDEVABStXEYXkD3gzVAT7NbVGKTn2lhQVEWNmE2MIFlXKCRUA/s200/P1220328.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400997526341683026" border="0" /></a><br />More relaxed riding probably doesn't exist. The road copies the river, goes up and down, turns left and right and what's quite appropriated by us goes mostly downhill. But still we hardly do 50km a day! Record is just 28km. What can you do if it's so immensely beautiful? The only "problem" is hot water. After 4 days of cycling shower would be nice, but if there is no electricity then there is no hot water. Simple but cruel. Our saviors are local barbers. They always have hammam -nothing like the Turkish ones, but gooood enough for sweaty frozen riders.<br /><br />Back to Gilgit, booking the bus ticket to Rawalpindi and hurray for souvenir shopping. Blankets, local hats, scarfs... beautiful stuff.<br />Next day another suffering bus ride. Nothing compared to the one we undertake to get up here, but still an experience. Totally jammed bus seemed like the only connection to Pindi -the driver stopped to pick up almost everybody, during few hours we ended <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JtdTcDDL4nRVRUwAIFb6IgU2dZqQA7LKTLJWSRu7Hphfsa_kWWMAhJ2kpAcb5wR0kSQJ3fKgf7cGaG3udZCe4VhhgAsmT2CeuwK-WfvRihkjrezPA-1PGDl_Ln6N_IMo9PTTmg/s1600-h/P1220249.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JtdTcDDL4nRVRUwAIFb6IgU2dZqQA7LKTLJWSRu7Hphfsa_kWWMAhJ2kpAcb5wR0kSQJ3fKgf7cGaG3udZCe4VhhgAsmT2CeuwK-WfvRihkjrezPA-1PGDl_Ln6N_IMo9PTTmg/s200/P1220249.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400995809227762626" border="0" /></a>up 4 on seats for 2 and a kid in European standards. How naive we were when we trusted the ticket seller, who promised that it will be just for us... lol! The bus averages 20km/h -bit better then bicycle... this can be understood since the road goes trough the highest mountain range in the world... Sounds good, ini? Not for Dusan who spent half of the journey with his head out of the window leaving the content of his stomach as a trace behind us. Somehow I did manage to sleep -how? Even I don't know. We were pretty chewed up when we got out, just able to ride to Islamabad and get some sleep in the Rose&Jasmin camping. All this just to get our Myanmar visas and get to India.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVSRrvA90N85DkvEKUCx8raxpLixYoMdgrPC2vzHxqlFLq_ySrkniFBSET3krGyN7iDzpXZ-T3Q1jBClTOkrF-ZoFW_aMyW-t6-YSv7C2qNFEng7wnY6xkiQGufh_l1MAiWWNPrA/s1600-h/P1220279.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVSRrvA90N85DkvEKUCx8raxpLixYoMdgrPC2vzHxqlFLq_ySrkniFBSET3krGyN7iDzpXZ-T3Q1jBClTOkrF-ZoFW_aMyW-t6-YSv7C2qNFEng7wnY6xkiQGufh_l1MAiWWNPrA/s200/P1220279.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400997505929472802" border="0" /></a><br />So you can imagine our disappointment when we got the the embassy. Eager to apply for our 3 month visas, suffered a shock after meeting the Ambassador. With all the respect a typical example of bureaucratic puppet. We have send him all the required documents from Gilgit, to speed up the process of application. All for nothing, since he didn't process our documents, basically didn't do anything -just because he didn't have our original passports. By the way he is not going to send them anywhere, or do anything else than stick the visas in them. Now when he has them he can send our documents to Burma and wait till they reply. This will take at least one week... HURRAY! What shell we do in this boring modern capital?<br />I let you know.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwreDyM-ewbqG5bdfkMKGin11eOyMSqG2sJHyxMYRMekO-D-aPfeRCkvbo8xqqKyYWfhNOJRCu65fiqCIVFFxVs3mm7SNdxHaGVxz7Il8Ec1DA2PogzsXWtWVzya2yWJvzL0vCg/s1600-h/P1220271.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwreDyM-ewbqG5bdfkMKGin11eOyMSqG2sJHyxMYRMekO-D-aPfeRCkvbo8xqqKyYWfhNOJRCu65fiqCIVFFxVs3mm7SNdxHaGVxz7Il8Ec1DA2PogzsXWtWVzya2yWJvzL0vCg/s200/P1220271.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400995815460570562" border="0" /></a>janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-28696262625357245092009-10-23T05:27:00.000-07:002009-10-23T05:57:41.625-07:00Cycling to Asia, just pics<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXLWS97a1A91u4jz5DE8lYq_Sa1RKFdvHLpBnXeNdbQWywpA969fGtWOvXyx3O5PZkPjF20h9EUJxagnsx-xhGfDbOopyd4nxi_5FG5ZDwZNMiKuJPo5S0TMyh8l84sQcm5rpNRQ/s1600-h/P1220033.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; 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width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9jP9PF80ldtkukj9LK9NUFgO33YyHODWFMBo-pbMZLkJNrJQ9052xuQvw-DebI7nlm-Ebt_vb-gy3UtBZIxS1rMuu56o8xIhmt04xaB9hMVWL6C2LWddZ57gkJtpWURBUPWSIg/s200/P1220058.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395777207105234978" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0P5hBtZwztwruyoZmLg2VqMg3E0PibhZhFZ4ztrBfu0xC_35Q_HPPMg91AS7Xv-PQA1f5OQRDTgEogPp7l1qpJyvF9wpWP7PriN20swtooIwflLyk1GiXwZnEArZh_m-1tjf6Q/s1600-h/P1220052.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0P5hBtZwztwruyoZmLg2VqMg3E0PibhZhFZ4ztrBfu0xC_35Q_HPPMg91AS7Xv-PQA1f5OQRDTgEogPp7l1qpJyvF9wpWP7PriN20swtooIwflLyk1GiXwZnEArZh_m-1tjf6Q/s200/P1220052.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395777202447160418" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTgqRgmQCMA5_Yz8lLgEg8kDbopY4uBb3UMjj66Bgymj9ST-BtIJpwVyeX7wcEsIXf5800XwhiPFCgYyiZDy2McxqBiJjEpYlBlsjLNdU76LfoTM2x-Q6U1it9L-dkT_miBAzt5w/s1600-h/P1210958.JPG"><br /></a>janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-77053337119944622742009-10-22T05:01:00.000-07:002009-10-24T04:16:05.203-07:00Cycling to ASia, week 14<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcSOLZRJ5YwLO4fVXz0gm4TGs_uhN_RwKtdjqk4r7CghbZxDa3DEwRoNyHMJcQHMcTuaOOD70C4sWqv-Gt-eIGhd-k4NfJDH2pSfqb-NEWFcI7w0RwTg551jtXeqlm3pD6Tx03Kw/s1600-h/P1210945.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcSOLZRJ5YwLO4fVXz0gm4TGs_uhN_RwKtdjqk4r7CghbZxDa3DEwRoNyHMJcQHMcTuaOOD70C4sWqv-Gt-eIGhd-k4NfJDH2pSfqb-NEWFcI7w0RwTg551jtXeqlm3pD6Tx03Kw/s200/P1210945.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395770490422090914" border="0" /></a><br />Skardu is in a basin surrounded by 360 degrees panorama of snowy peaks, wide<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhctUjaRsSVe-2PYpMfe0c-mEI-6zHquUVfMasSvEqIIOyNYKvTvJEdHl80nawgj05gyvyF_tvc2wdnCa0kHC4YFeKdVhpNhonYcx0-IFfH3aCiurvBkTCltvHi8bs8P5c4mZ-HFg/s1600-h/P1220124.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhctUjaRsSVe-2PYpMfe0c-mEI-6zHquUVfMasSvEqIIOyNYKvTvJEdHl80nawgj05gyvyF_tvc2wdnCa0kHC4YFeKdVhpNhonYcx0-IFfH3aCiurvBkTCltvHi8bs8P5c4mZ-HFg/s200/P1220124.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395769229316690978" border="0" /></a> gorges and The Indus river. Wow! This is way different to hot Punjab in south, in fact is totally different to anything we came across on this trip. The locals looks more like Tibetans or Chinese, the landscape is picturesque and climate chilly. People speaks local dialects, they appear to be more indifferent when they see white faces like us, but never less warm-hearted when we approach them. From this perfect starting spot we decided to cycle to Gilgit and then possibly higher north. <div>After few hours of copping the flow of Indus with lots of adjacent villages, where wild and rough looking loc<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJndmYGSD7jU7UePJwbZIjWK6Fd_Rn5w5mmt4n5NiSc_hN1iRaGZGU3L11Tq0GZDMgNCZApj31SLQyhP7lEgEWUPbGIfQMEFSxfNmY4Zs9OEfBgbCKibxZlcDrBlM9jLynv4cZ9w/s1600-h/P1220162.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJndmYGSD7jU7UePJwbZIjWK6Fd_Rn5w5mmt4n5NiSc_hN1iRaGZGU3L11Tq0GZDMgNCZApj31SLQyhP7lEgEWUPbGIfQMEFSxfNmY4Zs9OEfBgbCKibxZlcDrBlM9jLynv4cZ9w/s200/P1220162.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395767596255807458" border="0" /></a>als went trough they daily lives, we reached the more dramatic gorges cut by the river into the steep and rocky faces of the mountains. This remained unchanged for the following days ... just sometimes more scenic to previously more dramatic views... road is cutting here trough rocky slopes north of the river, sometimes reaching dreading heights, other times dropping almost to the sandy beaches on the shores. Climbs are interchanged with downhills, beautiful views with sharp and steep faces of the opposite peaks... it's just incredible and we are literally in rapture. We make only few km a day -not only because the road is demanding (even though not as much as we were dr<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_faR8d5OoogfSiAZMW0ql822qrnAcsR9nrMM31xxmc5gyihGMAP_bmRBkkFN81JddIBX5cXASuP7YoWFOfnF1aSQ_Pk5mYaFWkN1ZLL0akZPkoPwpvrAycIvK1WRI_rAp7dQdQ/s1600-h/P1220101.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_faR8d5OoogfSiAZMW0ql822qrnAcsR9nrMM31xxmc5gyihGMAP_bmRBkkFN81JddIBX5cXASuP7YoWFOfnF1aSQ_Pk5mYaFWkN1ZLL0akZPkoPwpvrAycIvK1WRI_rAp7dQdQ/s200/P1220101.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395769239040975202" border="0" /></a>eading -it always looks more difficult from a bus!), but mostly because we take pictures and videos on every corner! Plus my throat is starting to cause me a trouble. </div><div>The camping places are rare, so we have to be careful not to ride too late into evening and than get stuck on a steep slopes, water supplies are also limited... and the weather can change dramatically in minutes as we experienced yesterday during the lake trip... this is a real expedition, no summer riding around Galanta... But we are lucky, camping on an abandoned government helicopter site is all right.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91TJiW7Jo7rJkLxIt3aBiOTUPt0IRcmhv1vH_uYZVnclgPnzN79bRgOBuN5YtKeCxdT4wK4QcapAeHhMIMG9_1ZCmBbk84i0c780dNMlzPJxmq5VmvXrp3gkeMRKaiI5_CErbKw/s1600-h/P1220182.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91TJiW7Jo7rJkLxIt3aBiOTUPt0IRcmhv1vH_uYZVnclgPnzN79bRgOBuN5YtKeCxdT4wK4QcapAeHhMIMG9_1ZCmBbk84i0c780dNMlzPJxmq5VmvXrp3gkeMRKaiI5_CErbKw/s200/P1220182.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395767588069795970" border="0" /></a>Just that I'm not all right. I woke up with sever sour throat, headache and running nose, nothing pleasant for biking in chilly air and up and down roads. But the surroundings are so extraordinary that I refuse to take a bus or pick up! I'd rather push the sickness aside and cycle it all. Easier said than done, but eventually I managed! Every climb I sweat like a pig, just to dress rigorously on the top and slide down cutting trough the cold air. Today we will do even less km than yesterday, but surprisingly is not just due to me -Dusan is in heaven and his camera too. (I hope you too -pictures will come soon) We found another superb camping spot -this time close to Indus, with hot spring pouring out of the rocks and magnificent peaks all around us.<br />Last day to Gilgit is like hell for me. My body is searching<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivRrCvgpKc58BNbVXMDhqnD9ALWeinMUSSbSnZnmAto3SMdOpYTGTTpxn_oBSSLTsu0Kd266HiQD8ukfI_lch2Ahk9D69LXqC1twe_ztpgL2crjA9f5yNRvS1YQ04qzfTOud213Q/s1600-h/P1220093.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivRrCvgpKc58BNbVXMDhqnD9ALWeinMUSSbSnZnmAto3SMdOpYTGTTpxn_oBSSLTsu0Kd266HiQD8ukfI_lch2Ahk9D69LXqC1twe_ztpgL2crjA9f5yNRvS1YQ04qzfTOud213Q/s200/P1220093.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395769241419179618" border="0" /></a> for the last bits of energy left somewhere... I don't even know where... coughing, sneezing and marveling at the sheer beauty around me. We reached the junction with KKH (Karakoram highway) and pushed the pedals to the regional capital of Gilgit.<br />The town is big and looks wild . We found the "bibles" no 1 hotel Medina and there I went straight to bed... waking up the next day with the worst sickness I can recall in recent past. Well but still the cycling was worth it, now I will rest and get well. In the mean time the lads can explore the surroundings -this will occupy them for a while so nobody minds that I'm stuck here for a while!<br />Guys planned to go hiking for 3 days, but Dusan woke up with sever sore muscles ofter their one day trip to 700 years old Buddha carvings in a near by rock face. So now we are two lying in the bed. The other two went for the hiking with one day delay... over all Gilgit is something like our base for almost a week... hopefully we recover fully! Back to our strength and lets go tackle the 4700m Khunjerab pass! <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5TyWonahHAJyugav_q9XTtMhDP2CH0JqpsfysWe99WjciPhP4fc_PCqD9CoK-6d4TE170U1lH3bW-7KMyDvNACK4hisBDL-tERuy-QaOd4sGNYa2TV1rHJ6xvFy6RKmonUAo-gg/s1600-h/P1220212.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5TyWonahHAJyugav_q9XTtMhDP2CH0JqpsfysWe99WjciPhP4fc_PCqD9CoK-6d4TE170U1lH3bW-7KMyDvNACK4hisBDL-tERuy-QaOd4sGNYa2TV1rHJ6xvFy6RKmonUAo-gg/s200/P1220212.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395767580912394226" border="0" /></a></div>janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-72754468104349284392009-10-14T00:57:00.000-07:002009-10-22T05:01:24.404-07:00Cycling to Asia, week 13What followed the next few days was unbelievable... Imagine 5 independent travelers, roaming around Asia for few months, completely free, totally open minded, extremists in a way -well I don't count my self into extremists but others might do - travelling anywhere, doing almost anything and than suddenly the local authorities decides to "protect" them! Yes they do make it safer but they acctually protect us from everything -even the experience of this country! 24/7 baby sitting is way too much for people who were used to be their own time managers. Suddenly there is always a smart guy asking us where we wanna go? What time we would like to go there? They think they give us all the freedom, but hey just the point that we have to think ahead and plan something is so much in contrary to what we have done so far. We spent two nights in Multan -supposedly a safe city -but never before anyone of us felt like a prisoner (well except of me, but that's a different story...). We went sightseeing -but they stole all the fun by constant patrol of our steps, we could go to Internet cafe, but with heavy armed fella next to you all the time... On the third day we run a way by taking a train to Rawalpindi -yes the place where just 3 days ago Elite police ended an overnight drama in a military headquarters, where 40 personnel where kept hostage by Taliban fighters -the dead toll was pretty high (17 people including 9 terrorist) but the media called it a success.<br />Train journey was an adventure on its own. We stirred some dust on the train station with our oversize bikes, trying to load the panniers together with bikes to the luggage wagon, but failed, so dragging them to the other side of the train, locate our seats, just to find out that they were taken, so politely kicking out the unlucky passengers, all this in hot and humid and jammed wagon. But eventually -as usually- we got what we wanted and managed to sleep for most of the night.<br />After the Multan police terror, we were fearing the worst in recent-terrorist-attacked Rawalpindi, but suffered a bit of a shock when we found our selves alone and could leave the station without the Kalashnikov guys! Wow! Freedom again! Cycling to Islamabad was short but the longest in Pakistan without escort. There we found a nice Rose & Jasmin garden where we could pitch our tents and go to find out how is it with our Burmese visas...<br />Now we are just waiting and chillin in the garden, thoroughly planing our Karakorum trip to the north. There are few other cyclists who came from Kirghistan and China, so they have all the valuable information about the must-to-do highway in Pakistan.<div><br /></div><div>Islamabad is modern boring city, so we don't linger longer than necessary. Instead we took a bus from Rawalpindi to Skardu -capital of Baltistan in Karakoram eastern point. They told us that it's gonna take 25 hours... so we were expecting a bit of discomfort, but what was really ahead of us nobody would guess even in the worst joke! The bus ride was more like experiencing how a laundry feels in washing machine than actually appreciating the scenic mountains. Bone-shaking, stomach-bouncing and brain-numbing hell on earth ride trough the evening, night, morning and another evening was far beyond our level of acceptance. The last few hours I thought I will just give up, or I do something because my ribs were aching and my head was spinning... </div><div>It took us a whole day in fairytale Skardu to recover. We did a small half day trip to a near by lake -no panniers, just joy from riding. Unfortunately I underestimated my physical strength -still pretty much affected by the food poisoning and exhilarating bus ride and next day woke up with sore throat. Ahhhh!!! We are just setting out for our most memorable riding in the worlds highest mountains and as the locals proudly boast on the eight wonder of the world -the Karakoram highway... well sort of it, because the 136 km road that joins Skardu with KKH is not exactly part of the famous road. </div>janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-285733105515120912009-10-14T00:48:00.000-07:002009-10-14T00:56:09.321-07:00Cycling to Asia, Dusan 4Naposledy som pisal z Quety, odkial sme v ozbrojenom doprovode vyrazili dalej na vychod. Vsetci sme sa tesili na to, ze opat resp. konecne pride poriadna horska cyklistika. Prvy usek bol vskutku nadherny. Slapanie po nespevnenej ceste nehostinnou, no krasnou krajinou, bolo presne to, co sme po dnoch sedenia v autobuse a vyckavania v rusnej Quete potrebovali. Podvecer nas zastihol v zaprasenej dedinke Kach, odkial to bolo do odporucaneho Ziaratu uz daleko. Nas posledny policajny doprovod si kupil kocku hasisu, nasadol na motorku a vratil sa do neznama. Nas cakala noc na akoze policajnej stanici, na ktoru len tak skoro nezabudneme. Na veceru sme si zasli do vyvarovne cez ulicu, kde nam bol v ufulanych tanieroch ponuknuty tradicny dal (strukovinovovy privarok). Vsetci az na usmievaveho holandana Arjana a Janciho sme celu noc nacvicovali lahku gymnastiku - vyskok z postele zakonceny stastlivym dobehom kamkolvek za brany stanice.<br />Velkorysy pani policajti nam velmi jednoznacne naznacili, ze dalsiu noc uz by sme mali stravit niekde inde. Napriek tomu, ze Janci s Arjanom boli schopny pokracovat na bycikloch, museli sme si "z bezpecnostnych dovodov" do Ziaratu vziat pick-up vsetci pospolu. V horuckach, totalne vystaveny, natisany na korbe drziac sa cohokolvek sme dorazili do horskej dedinky Ziarat, kde nas cakali tri dni vyzdravovania.<br />Na treti den uz vsetko vyzeralo fajn a teda ze pokracujeme. Po par kilometroch sa mi vsak vratili teploty a po chvili navaly horka zacali striedat triasky - zle nedobre. Dalsia noc na zaprasenej zemi policajnej stanice (noclahy v hoteloch a volny pohyb nam boli nekompromisne zamietnute) len zhorsila moj stav. Slapanie v horuckach uz malo naozaj velmi daleko od nejakeho radostneho putovania. Poslednou bodku v tomto nestatnom useku nasej cesty mal stupidny policajny prikaz. V dedinke Mekhtar sme sa usadili na zemi ako tak na noclah vhodnej restauracie. Nasadil som Paralen a jedine, co mi chybalo k prezitiu noci bol pokoj. Asi po hodine sa prepoteny v spacaku prebudzam na hluk diskusie medzi mojimi companieros a policajtmi, ktory trvali na tom, ze sa musime presunut na ich bohumily stanicu - tak znie prikaz od nadriadenych, ktory si sedia niekde stovky kilometrov daleko. Po dvoch hodinach neprestrelnych argumentoch sme donuteni k presunu. Stanica ako inak spinava a zaprasena.. Nocujem teda aj s na prach alergickym Jancim na korbe policajneho nakladiaku. V najhorsej noci nasej vypravy, v dedinke do ktorej a z ktorej vedu len prasne cesty sa po prvy krat zdavam a na druhy den nasadam na autobus do asi 250 km vzdialeneho Multanu, kde konecne sa odovzdam do ruk doktora.<br />Doprovod mi robi svajciar David, ktory je na tom len o nieco lepsie ako ja. Zvysok nasej patice sa nepodava a pokracuje na bycikloch.<br />Pred mestom DG Khan nas z autobusu necakane vytahuju policajti a ze vraj do Multanu uz musime len v doprovode eskorty. Od toho momentu nas uz policajti nespustaju z oci a obaja sa ocitame v "bezpecnom zajati". Do Multanu dorazame v noci. Hladame volny hotel, no vzdy ked policajny nakladiak zastavi priamo pred hlavnym vchodom a vyruti sa z neho banda ozbrojencov doprevadzajuca dve doslova blede tvare, odpoved z recepcie je jasna - "Sme plne obsadeni..". Nejakym zazrakom sa asi na siedmy pokus ubytujeme a rano vyrazam za najvacsim dobrodruzstvom tychto dni - do nemocnice. Nuveritelne rusna nemocnica sa stava este rusnejsou ked sa tam zrazu zjavi beloch v doprovode patice chlapov vyzbrojenych kalasnikovmi. Ked doktorovi, ktory sa so mnou bavi ako s prezidentom vysvetlujem, ze posledny tyzden nevidim ziaden rozdiel medzi tym co zo mna vychadza pri velkej resp. malej potrebe, nasadzuje mi injekcne antibiotika. Postupujeme do miestnosti na to urcenej, kde sa ma sestra pyta taku cudnu vetu: "Want you share your bed?" A teda, ze preco nie. Ja som za kazdu srandu.. Usadzaju ma na postel, kde v ubohej polohe lezi niekto s infuziou v zile. Na posteli oproti stvorica chlapov pacifikuje niekoho v brutalnom zachvate, do toho stale prinasaju a odnasaju ludi na posteli v najzufalejsich stavoch.. Snazim sa neznepokojovat horucou atmosferou, no i tak pocitam kazdu kvapku mediciny, ktora z flasticky nado mnou prudi priamo do mojich zil..<br />Jedine, co mi tu polhodinu na nemocnicnej posteli premielalo hlavou bolo obrovske stastie, ktore sa ukryva v nasom obvykle dobrom zdravotnom stave. Nuz ale clovek je tvor nespokojny a k stastiu mu vzdy tak trosku nieco chyba. A tak i ja sa tesim na to, kedy to uz bude cele za mnou a zacneme opat slapat do pedalov.<br />Na druhy den uz doraza, v policajnom aute samozrejme, predcasne z cesty stiahnuty zvysok patice. V pondelok poobede, vsetci dostatocne zotaveny vyrazame do severneho Islamabadu - vlakom. Dva-tri dni vizove formality a vyzvedy o bezpecnostnej situacii na Karakoram Highway. Iste je zatial len to, ze nemaly usek bude v autobuse..<br />Taky je veru nas Pakistan - viacmenej autobuso - vlakovo - eskortovy.. No stale neuveritelne zaujimavy!janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-64732701455070772462009-10-11T07:10:00.000-07:002009-10-13T08:17:01.472-07:00Cycling to Asia, week 12<p></p><p>Surprisingly getting the police escort to supervise us trough Baluchistan was smooth and easy. Riding on the famous Pakistan roads is a different story... and having a 24/7 police control is nothing of our interests. We are all very independent and pretty skilled travellers so having a babysitters all day long is quite annoying... but we tried to find advantages in this situation and the breathtaking scenery of wild Pakistan mountains is substituting all the disadvantages of our dear new friends... and there are plenty of them.</p><br /><p>Just to get out of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Quetta</span> we had 4 different police cars driving with us literally from one major intersection to the other one... Few kilometers out of the city and we are testing our bikes: gravel road and dusty fields. Riding time is slow not just because of truly off road riding but also due to our individual needs. Picture here, pi break there... plus David seems like he caught some bad diarrhea in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Quetta</span>. All this caused that our original plan to reach <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ziarat</span> (only 90 km) failed and we had to stay over night in a very small village somewhere in the middle. Police gave us shelter on their filthy station, that was nice from them, but the food supplies were limited to one very suspicious tea house serving some food and shops with snacks. We were hoping to hitch a truck and get to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ziarat</span>, but again failed... so OK, lets stay at the police station. In the evening we went to paint the "town" red and went for the dinner. This turned out to be the biggest mistakes of the entire journey... </p><br /><p></p><p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxW1zk9nNlW9_ki7ejjWkr20BwbsaH5C57ci7ynl9dJSknEiAW_UcHMyiJb-H0_h44madLAkXPl910' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p>The next morning more than half of our 5CC i.e. "five cyclists crew" woke up, or better to say finally saw the dawn of the day, into a nightmare. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Dusan</span>, Kevin and of course David have had a sleepless night, changing patrol each half an hour or so... Why? Their bowels urged them to do so. When I saw them in the morning I hardly recognized them, they were bleak and weak. Diarrhea completely exhausted them. Since there is no toilet in the police station, I suppose the area around must have changed into a dangerous mind field. Me and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Arjan</span> wanted to cycle to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Ziarat</span> and meet the sick there, but the police had a different idea about it all and jammed us all into a small pick up truck -five bicycles, 30 pieces of luggage, us five plus police man plus driver and for short while one other passenger -Pakistan no problem! </p><p>In <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ziarat</span> we were lucky to find a very reasonable refugee hut -the most important facility -the toilet- was right next to our rooms and the garden was nice for chill out. Just before the night came I felt a strong urge to go to The Room and hoops, I got it as well. What followed was hell on earth. Strong bone aches, cool chills interchanged by hot showers of sweat and of course fairly constant intervals of complete dehydration trough the buttocks hole! In the middle of the night the difference between the urine and the excrement was just the smell... So for the next two days we were all out of order. Surprisingly just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Arjan</span> survived. Between the rest of us there was quite a difference in timing of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">inevitable</span>, but eventually all of us got into the same horrible stage, only one <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">miraculously</span> escaped the evil bacteria that puts even the strong travelers to their knees... or squats... </p><p>After 3 days we started to be quite sick of just lying around so we set off. Still not perfectly fit, but eager to cycle. The 90 km from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Ziarat</span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Loralai</span> were spectacular -Junipers forest and rocky terrain resembled Jurassic era, the trees are dating some 2000 years but they are just few meters high. Fortunately it was mostly down hill otherwise we would not make it since our bodies are still very weak -well no wonder! We had completely evacuated our intestines and didn't have enough time to replace the fillings... In <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Loralai</span> the police told us we have to stay in the police station because is allegedly too dangerous to stay in a hotel. There is nothing we can do about it, but we are convinced that the next night we will just directly go to a hotel... ha! how naive we are, we'll find out soon. </p><p>From <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Loralai</span> we kept on cycling east, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Dusan</span> is getting back to pretty severe stage -it was far too early for him to set off from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Ziarat</span>. The rest of us are not overenthusiastic, I still can't eat properly and what's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">coming</span> out of me doesn't look to healthy <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">either</span>, but generally I'm fine. But <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Dusan</span> is really having a long lasting nightmare. 6 days of strong diarrhea can be very dangerous. We have to stop in a small town. The gravel road shows that this is again just a pothole place. We checked in a hotel -well sort of a hotel, its just a room next to dirty toilets adjacent to restaurant for truck drivers -the price is funny 30 rupees ( 30 cents), but its really just a emergency shelter. Unfortunately the local police chief is blindly obeying his duty and that's too bad for us. His commander gave him an order that we have to stay at the police station and there is nothing what we can do about it. We have very sick person who is already lying in a bed and needs to rest, but no! we have to move him to a dusty police station on the other side of the town -it took us two hours of arguing and we would have achieved much more if we would have talked to a white wall than to these simple people. So we move the convoy and spend the night on the back of a pick up truck because the room is way too dusty. </p><p>We are bit fed up with our police guards, so next morning we ignore them quite significantly. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Dusan</span> and David are taking a bus to Multan, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Dusan</span> needs to see a doctor, the rest will meet them there in 3 days. So Me, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Arjan</span> and Kevin are still heading eastwards quite enthusiastically... not knowing what's ahead of us. </p><p>The gravel road didn't end few kilometers after the town as we were assuming, it didn't end after the strenuous climb that followed... no... it changed into the dustiest ride we ever encountered. I had to put on my mouth filter, because each time when a truck passed us we were lost in clouds of dust so thick that couple times I had to stop to avoid falling down from the bike since I couldn't see anything. It was hot, It was dry, It was bumpy and few times we found ourselves in a dust twisters. Eventually it took us almost all day to conquer 40 km of real <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">off road</span> riding. Interesting, but much welcomed was that my wheel survived... during the whole bouncing ride this cheap Iranian back wheel did a very good job, but right after we got on a good asphalt surface, just 2 km before <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Kingri</span> I got another flat tire -I lost the count by now... This time we wanted to stay in the police station in the town, since we didn't have any energy left to continue, but no, the police are just doing exactly the opposite what we would like to... fortunately this time they saved us from a big hassle and allowed us to stay there.</p><p>The next day we planned to cover 150 km all the way to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">DG</span> Khan so we woke up early and rode constantly... The landscape here is beautiful, probably the greenest since west Turkey so we were really enjoying the ride. Our police "friends" started to be much more sloppy and there were few miles that we drove without any escort. Yes! This is freedom... from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Rakni</span> climbing up to a mountain pass in 1800m and than down in definitely the most scenic gorge and valley I have ever seen, totally free... fresh air, loose from the guards and unbelievable views drove us to an edge of sanity, I felt like drunk from all the beauty around me. So when on the other side of the mountains an Elite police escort waited for us we didn't mind. They drove us all the way to Multan, because due to security reasons no foreigner can stay in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">DG</span> Khan -Pakistan has its nuclear weapon factory there... we didn't mind at least they saved us a full day cycling in humid, hot and flat Punjab. Right at the foot of the mountains the climate changed dramatically. It will take me few days to adjust, but that' fine.</p>janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-61413854072529629042009-10-02T06:55:00.000-07:002009-10-02T06:57:04.621-07:00Cycling to Asia, Dusan 3naposledy som pisal z Esfahanu, kde sme sa dozvedeli, ze asi kus vychodneho Iranu nie je mozne absolvovat na bycikli. Zostavajuce dni sme teda vyuzili na zachadzku do Persepolisu. Podobne miesta sme dosial ignorovali, no tentokrat sa "turisticky highlight" celkom oplatil. Par hodin stravenych v niekdajsej vykladnej skrini Perzie stacilo na to, aby sme dostatocne hlboko precitili pychu i pad niekdajsich mocnych. Z toho, co kedysi posobilo ako vrchol umenia, oddanosti vyssej moci, nedobytnosti, zostali len ruiny. Velmi dobra lekcia toho, kam smerovat vlastny cas a energiu..<br />Z Persepolisu sme si k severu stopli nakladiak, co sa neobislo bez dalsieho sklamania. Panko sofer sa od nas snazil za svoju velkorisost vymamit asi desatnasobok standardnej sumy.. Bola by to veru smutna spomienka na iransku pohostinnost. Nasledujuce udalosti vsak nastastie napravili nasu mienku o velkodusnosti Perzanov.<br />Pred prichodom do Yazdu nas trochu prekvapilo asi 50 km puste. Kolesa akoby sa lepili na rozpaleny asfalt tiahnuci sa suchou krajinou niekam do nekonecna, vody malo, sklamani z dalsieho pokusu o okradnutie, defekt.. No nic moc, veru. V tom zrazu pred nami stoji auto a <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1254491398_0">pri</span> nom usmievavy chlapik. Caj, igelitka stavnateho hrozna, usmevy..<br />Potom ako sme dorazili na okraj pustatiny, dostavam na benzinke dalsi defekt, nezalepitelny. Menim dusu, no postradam odtahovac ventilkov, ktory som si zabudol v Esfahane.. Vsimol si to panko, ktory bez opytania nasada na motorku a po chvili prinasa presne to, co potrebujem. Na nic sa nepyta, len daruje. <br />Ceresnickou na torte iranskej pohostinnosti toho dna bol nakladiak, ktory nam na znamenie spomalil a dovolil sa zan zahaknut. Zvecerievalo sa a my sme potrebovali prekrocit hory, za ktorymi bola voda. Bez jeho pomoci to bolo bez nadejne. To, co sme vsak doteraz nezazili bolo, ze nas vzdy po kazdom kratkom zjazde (v ktorom sme sa ho vzdy pustili) v horskom terene cakal, aby nas mohol vytiahnut do dalsieho stupaka. Nakoniec v sedle snad tritisic metrov nad morom len zatrubil a zmizol. Akoby sa zrazu vytratila vila, ktorej sme chceli podakovat za to, ze nas previedla cez tmavy les..<br />Komfortne sme si zjazdili no podhorskej dedinky a v orechovom sade reflektovali posledne celodenne cykloputovanie v Irane. Povestna iranska pohostinnost, budis zachranena!<br />Na druhy den nam zostalo uz len par prijemnych kilometrov do hlineneho Yazdu, kde sa opat stretavame s irsko-svajciarsko-holandskou trojicou cyklistov putujucich nasim smerom. Podla ich slov nie je mozne k pakistanskym hraniciam byciklovat a tak pekne pospolu nasadame na autobus, ktory na hranici menime za dalsi iduci az do pakistanskej Quety. 1500 km pustou krajinou nas teda vsakovake okolnosti prinutili "blafovat", no nevadi, neprisli sme si tu nic dokazovat.<br />Sme teda v Quete, kde sme <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1254491398_1">mali</span> na vyber z dvoch moznosti. Budto si vziat vlak/autobus na menej zaujimavy juh, odkial sa da pokracovat na bycikli alebo poziadat o vojensky doprovod na 500 km prechod krasnym horskym terenom. Zda sa, ze sme Allahovi sympaticki - dnes rano nam bolo vyhovene v ziadosti o pridelenie eskorty a tak v sobotu rano opustame tento ostrov relativneho pokoja v nepokojnom Baluchistane, smer vychod.<br /><br />Opat som to trosku pretiahol, no pre tych, co to vydrzali az potialto este par riadkov o prvych dojmoch z Pakistanu. V prvom rade neuveritelna spina - vsade:) To, co v <span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1254491398_2">Europe</span> ukryvame na skladky, lejeme do podzemnej kanalizacie je tu neustale na ociach. Niezeby som to u nas doma nejako postradal, no posobi to akosi prirodzenejsie.. I ten neuveritelny hurhaj je akysi iny nez ten bratislavsky, no objektivnejsi budeme po par tyzdnoch.. Okrem tychto menej prijemnych realii sme vsak nadseni zivotom prekypujucimi ulicami. Obrovska zmena oproti ustrachanemu Iranu. Na kazdom kroku niekto nieco predava, vyraba, opravuje, vari.. Neuveritelne pestry vyber jedal, napojov - vsetko podavane s usmevom a navyse za symbolicke ceny. Celkova atmosfera je fascinujuca. Zasiahlo nas to natolko, ze sme sa rozhodli trochu poupravit povodny plan. Co najrychlejsi prechod Pakistanom menime za zachadzku do kralovstva horskej cyklistiky - <span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1254491398_3">Karakoram Highway</span>.. Ale o tom na buduce.janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-39317624469382639912009-10-01T06:30:00.000-07:002009-10-01T08:23:46.823-07:00Cycling to Asia, week 11<div><div><div><div>Guns, Drugs and military coups... that's how most of the people perceive Pakistan. What we see in media is always highly concentrated information. It's usually true, it's just that it doesn't represent the everyday life. Even the 7 o'clock news in Slovakia will feed you wit<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Bg8C5OTh1RA9XWMiZyLOAlGB8iC9tGikxYZ92eSv6cM-4ne_u1YdR2qCYq8LGs4a2FyXwxT1NLkIRSkUFKCP9_qukUACHhNXWCB0D7D25QtfdWQ8Z32Cuq3ccinTBJwOLPLqDA/s1600-h/P1210716.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387650145721768914" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 167px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 113px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Bg8C5OTh1RA9XWMiZyLOAlGB8iC9tGikxYZ92eSv6cM-4ne_u1YdR2qCYq8LGs4a2FyXwxT1NLkIRSkUFKCP9_qukUACHhNXWCB0D7D25QtfdWQ8Z32Cuq3ccinTBJwOLPLqDA/s200/P1210716.JPG" border="0" /></a>h car accidence, thefts and political scandals... Our unique opportunity to explore and find out for our selves have just started.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj1-bQ87D6xJs4q1r0dq3wd9qdp7KQBve0zy43TU6NkPvfvNbfB24QT95lk6iDJGN1crb9yAFzzDFDa-_LCOl9KNJQ9XVk5iyqkk5XIsHCMpcPZYS6YTTpBSXBl5lnNLm1IF2YOA/s1600-h/P1210725.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387651547588257858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 138px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 167px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj1-bQ87D6xJs4q1r0dq3wd9qdp7KQBve0zy43TU6NkPvfvNbfB24QT95lk6iDJGN1crb9yAFzzDFDa-_LCOl9KNJQ9XVk5iyqkk5XIsHCMpcPZYS6YTTpBSXBl5lnNLm1IF2YOA/s200/P1210725.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />After really relaxing days in Yazd we were ready for some bus overdose. First we took overnight bus to Zahedan. This was quite pleasant, the Iranian transport is very luxurious. The morning in the Border town was still pretty Iranian like even though the people's faces changed quite a bit, the landscape even more. This is pure dead land of rocks and sand. The people live here just from trade I guess. We took a share pick up truck to the border. There we had a brief introduction into Pakistani bureaucracy -just to tune us in for the following month. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQfVUZ7n2mVkg7pcJg3S1EtNN7rYh-LyJYKL4VECWoV7ey97D9Cnfk15sypCoBPqlOk05AJClvQf-M6Yk9sbQk-iJxGt_RVQfw95w2v40lG7N2sn5slER5fjPWwg_ufLs29TXPg/s1600-h/P1210729.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387648179005827458" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQfVUZ7n2mVkg7pcJg3S1EtNN7rYh-LyJYKL4VECWoV7ey97D9Cnfk15sypCoBPqlOk05AJClvQf-M6Yk9sbQk-iJxGt_RVQfw95w2v40lG7N2sn5slER5fjPWwg_ufLs29TXPg/s200/P1210729.JPG" border="0" /></a>This is an ex-British colony and the Britons did leave some fingerprints here -one is their paper work!!!<br /><br />Than some more busing. Another 14 h over the flat hot desert, the last bit was extra bumpy so this time we didn't sleep so well. First we were wondering why it takes the same time as in Iran, but the distance is almost halved? Well we've forgot to input the Asian factor: praying and police check... <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuDUZFWUTIe0MuzeWAPDPZM6YYiwCViQ6xUXiEak8PndgBJHn0RSSt8XZVEioGeaH7e9iBGzHTM28BLYLpOl4hmlrcDI9AsBZmUaHOztCEjMyEDPRcyOQms3cicms62qIMcKfDjA/s1600-h/P1210741.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387646856765159922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuDUZFWUTIe0MuzeWAPDPZM6YYiwCViQ6xUXiEak8PndgBJHn0RSSt8XZVEioGeaH7e9iBGzHTM28BLYLpOl4hmlrcDI9AsBZmUaHOztCEjMyEDPRcyOQms3cicms62qIMcKfDjA/s200/P1210741.JPG" border="0" /></a>at least each half an hour we stopped for one of those... 5 am in Quetta was a shock but everybody was too tired realize it. The next day we got it in full power. So far we have been moving forward very slowly, step by step, or push by push, but this time we jumped a good 1500km eastwards and the change was more dramatic than anyone of us could imagine. Dirt, chaos, smog and stench. Oh is that really a sour floating down the street? Rubbish, cats and bagging kids! But wow nobody is harassing us as much as the Persian did!<br /><br />Our plan is to get a permit to cycle from Quetta to Mulat via Ziarat and Mularay... everybody is saying that we'll need an escort so we are not really hoping to be successful, but let's give it a shot. The authorities are very relaxed as well as serious and accurate. Where will you <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhrBZVOJTE7a1rwXMnMheBCYE0zqpErJoiNIl0ze14Ec2_9vF2ARpd4BYUaT06zSAqa29Zrds8akiQBJ3b49-C3pbS9FIMCYqcaHLjgwq6uqLXZehxlKfo6axMFwsCl-c9LNzuw/s1600-h/P1210768.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387645131267797906" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhrBZVOJTE7a1rwXMnMheBCYE0zqpErJoiNIl0ze14Ec2_9vF2ARpd4BYUaT06zSAqa29Zrds8akiQBJ3b49-C3pbS9FIMCYqcaHLjgwq6uqLXZehxlKfo6axMFwsCl-c9LNzuw/s200/P1210768.JPG" border="0" /></a>stay? How many km you can do in a day? Be aware that's a hilly region... but yeah, we will issue the permit and provide you with a police escort and all of this for free!!! WoW and WoW. This is how they treat tourists here? That's nice! We all agreed that in Europe they would just simply say NO, you can't do that, take a bus, full stop.<br /><br />So now we have two more days to explore Quetta. OK. Let's go shopping... so we all bought the local outfit. It's comfy and the people do give us a bit more slack, we don't shine like freshly arrived tourists anymore. Have a look and give feedback please.</div></div></div></div>janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-34859972699241313122009-09-30T08:00:00.000-07:002009-09-30T08:33:31.543-07:00Cycling to asia, IranHello Mr! What country? Hello Mr. What do you think about Iran?<br /><br />I don't have to be specifically emphatic to know that everybody who traveled trough Iran have been asked these questions billion times. So what do I think after a month spent mostly by cycling?<br />Iran is great and it's definitely a travelers paradise... specially the shoe stringers will love it because there is no problem camping anywhere, eating everywhere (except ramadan) and traveling in cheap transport. Bum friendly cities allows you to sleep in park and other advantages. But it's not just fun. You also get a lot of hassle and must be prepared for rip offs. Generally if you don't ask about the price in advance you can expect cosmic numbers! If you do ask don't dream about big discounts by bergaining...<br /><br />Iranians are very friendly and suffer by over hospitality, so most of the time one can enjoy ones stay. We received plenty of invitations of all of the kinds -from simple tea to few days of accommodation with all the care you could wish for.<br /><br />We also noticed high level of fear in the locals minds. . They are very curios, many times even suspicious... everything interests them, so if two highly visible creatures, like us on bikes, show up on the street they get more attention than a King! It definitely reaches limits unbearable for almost everybody I would say...<br /><br />It is a country of strict Islamic regime, but funnily they don't observe Ramadan as seriously as Turks do. We had no problem eating on the streets of Turkish towns, even though the restaurants were closed, but in Tabriz we've been send to a hotel, but we've bought the food on street! Officially there are strict rules for everything but in reality majority of the people neglect them. They do eat, but secretly. They hide! So if the public doesn't see you, it's all right! Isn't that ridiculous? It should be based on the relationship between you and God, not you and public! The women don't wear scarf on privet parties, but when we showed up in short pants we got all the looks and even few comments...<br />The political situation is even more ridiculous, when cca 3% of the population is manipulating the rest, but officially they have elections -worth nothing... everybody says that the new president is just a very bad joke, nobody voted for him and suddenly here he comes... they call him monkey. But politic sucks so I'm not going to write much about it...<br /><br />How can I summarize all this? Probably by saying that the Iran has two faces: the official and the real. This schism is quite traumatizing for locals and requires some time for travelers to adjust to. But if you manage you'll have good times.janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-78702482428967106252009-09-27T08:53:00.000-07:002009-10-01T07:47:37.761-07:00Cycling to Asia, week 10Here we go again! OH how good it is to feel the air in my hair, yes the wheels are turning, the legs are doing their job... we keep on moving east, well this time a bit more southeast. We decided to make a small detour and check out the biggest highlight of Iran: Persepolis. Our <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8PJjU_T-wMh-kMiUrjTRh6eqtAwpwlHisTlh-vbqGKWNhGDtCSAllj57OAFXUOMFWefbp94NjScSa3QJ-Tehhf3tjvSK4SfGuDCH4BaxYSdUpD0dd4uBab-rtCuh5o9b7mArhg/s1600-h/P1210704.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387640451884540034" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8PJjU_T-wMh-kMiUrjTRh6eqtAwpwlHisTlh-vbqGKWNhGDtCSAllj57OAFXUOMFWefbp94NjScSa3QJ-Tehhf3tjvSK4SfGuDCH4BaxYSdUpD0dd4uBab-rtCuh5o9b7mArhg/s200/P1210704.JPG" border="0" /></a>plan was to cycle down there, see the old Persian city and cycle back up to Yazd, but well we underestimated the Iranian distances (and the map we have... is really crap!). On the second day of cycling from Esfahan we have found out that we're not gonna make it. Because its more than 800km of cycling, plus sightseeing, plus catching the bus to the Pakistan border and all of this just in one week... impossible. So what we gonna do?<br />It's simple just let the karma work for it self, or let the Iranians do what they are best in: be hospitable. At the end<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzF9-dZNgC4t7BS6L1JLROueAbTHp2t3W8a0UWScUy-1dil04Dfiq_syD_Mpdi140wFlD8Foo4t1SOnxArwtDaxWQGf2p-z6DWb_R4u9PNJWSCBpEqEClW1BFnZsTy7HRQxTWodg/s1600-h/P1210531.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387637364401453170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzF9-dZNgC4t7BS6L1JLROueAbTHp2t3W8a0UWScUy-1dil04Dfiq_syD_Mpdi140wFlD8Foo4t1SOnxArwtDaxWQGf2p-z6DWb_R4u9PNJWSCBpEqEClW1BFnZsTy7HRQxTWodg/s200/P1210531.JPG" border="0" /></a> of the second day, after cycling some good 100km there were these two guys with a truck having a rest on the car park area on the highway. They showed us to stop, as many of them did before... sometimes we do, sometimes we don't... depends on our mood. This time Dusan had a good intuition and we stopped... YEAH all the Farsi questions: "Where are you from?" and "Are you cycling from Slovakia?" and "Where are you going?" and "OH India!!!" as hundred times before, but this time we also told them we go to Persepolis and they eager<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCmyguxu5GDs3aHOo-SAdZu_UjDFWRtL_cdzJwQoH0rbdxje6mwWDvlBN4EWaBAMz7Y5-P6YHBU5178oS5aqtvbel2xAwD4PH-GXXBGMPtms_yzlUkIbsswWZv2EQiqOB8qCbjRw/s1600-h/P1210515.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387634781891409618" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCmyguxu5GDs3aHOo-SAdZu_UjDFWRtL_cdzJwQoH0rbdxje6mwWDvlBN4EWaBAMz7Y5-P6YHBU5178oS5aqtvbel2xAwD4PH-GXXBGMPtms_yzlUkIbsswWZv2EQiqOB8qCbjRw/s200/P1210515.JPG" border="0" /></a>ly said that they do as well... so here we go, we have a good 300km hitch in the truck all the way to the sight. Funny part was that after they have found out that our Farsi is really limited just to the basic five questions they wanted to kick us out... but hell no! You said you're gonna take us, so you gonna take us, full stop!<br />How was Persepolis? Imaginary, original, majestic, monumental, reveling, useful... just imagine how much effort they put to create this original majestic stone city just to find out that nothing last for ever. Even the big<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqeNzRExi15ech-MIN3QAJE9USxaxMvXTNwAcaBhnGsVVKdOCRYNn-sdmPx-SI9Egk0cn7w-Xun1v35QveW-BPtj2wlyTfjW7r2Dbvh9TGBp08m_WgGqW57fO8mcODGBE6t-nWPg/s1600-h/P1210554.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386185834905765234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqeNzRExi15ech-MIN3QAJE9USxaxMvXTNwAcaBhnGsVVKdOCRYNn-sdmPx-SI9Egk0cn7w-Xun1v35QveW-BPtj2wlyTfjW7r2Dbvh9TGBp08m_WgGqW57fO8mcODGBE6t-nWPg/s200/P1210554.JPG" border="0" /></a>gest or strongest monuments are impermanent... What a trust the locals must have had in the King and it didn't last even two centuries... this is useful thought for everybody I ques...<br />Cycling back was probably the best cycling in Iran. There were nice towns, mountains, deserts, friendly drivers, stupid drivers, hospitable people and beautiful mountain passes... Since we wanted to see bit of Yazd we cheated a bit again and hitchhiked. This time it was proper hand showing process, just that we had to be really picky, since we could accept just pick ups or <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2J_piGiSigiRAKzkNTYIZzcryGxTswmgMgoV2VejBBnTksvUWyvwCN5KEkiCgo2vvMNDP2OQGtHgV9L_VRKhYj108q4UWKmWnGgLIrot7Z2u5sIyNXHXo3BWnZIzpUbZOSvkIg/s1600-h/P1210561.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386186323920934050" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2J_piGiSigiRAKzkNTYIZzcryGxTswmgMgoV2VejBBnTksvUWyvwCN5KEkiCgo2vvMNDP2OQGtHgV9L_VRKhYj108q4UWKmWnGgLIrot7Z2u5sIyNXHXo3BWnZIzpUbZOSvkIg/s200/P1210561.JPG" border="0" /></a>trucks... it worked after a while... why did the driver asked for ridiculous 50$ for a 100km ride we do not know, but well we gave him a fiver and wished him to recover from the stupidity... Generally the hospitality of the locals is incredible, but on the other hand quite a few tried to rip us off... so our feelings are quite mixed. The good ones definitely overwhelm the bad ones, just that the negative memories are more sticky...<br />Now we are in the mud-wall ancient city of Yazd, just chill in before some crazy 14+14 hours of bus riding all the way to Pakistani Queta... we met here the other cyclists and decided to cross the border together. So now we are 5 europians heading east...janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-60146524610238264542009-09-26T09:46:00.000-07:002009-09-26T09:47:39.487-07:00Cycling to Asia, Dusan 2Zdravim vas opat,<br />pisem z Esfahanu, asi najkrajsieho iranskeho mesta, do ktoreho je to zo Sturova nieco malo cez pat tisic kilometrov. Sme teda asi v polovicke cykloetapy nasej vypravy.<br /><br />..takto mi raz povedal kamarat: "V Irane to zacne..."<br />A veru, ze zacalo. Po prechode turecko-iranskej hranicou sme skutocne nadobudli pocit, ze vsetko je akesi ine, dokonca aj klima:) Ludia posobili dost jednoliato - umiernenejsie, veselsie a uprimnejsie ako ich zapadni susednia. Teraz, po troch tyzdnoch sa vsak nasa mienka o Irancoch trochu upravila. Zije tu niekolko narodov, z ktorych sme dosial lepsie spoznali Turkov, Kurdov a Persanov. Napriek niekolkym odlisnostiam maju urcite spolocne crty a to najma stadovitost a strach z vyssej moci. Ale pekne poporiadku.<br />V meste <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1253979555_0">Tabriz</span> sme mali na vyber z dvoch moznosti ako stravit nas mesiac v Irane. Ak by sme chceli prejst cely <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1253979555_1">Iran</span> na bycikli (asi 2900 km), museli by sme to struhnut priamym, frekventovanym tahom na Teheran - <span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1253979555_2">Esfahan</span> - <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1253979555_3">Yazd</span> - <span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1253979555_4">Zahedan</span>. Uz pred Tabrizom sme si nastastie skusili, ze valit po presmradenej hlavnej ceste nie je prave to prave orechove a tak sme si vybrali druhu variantu - z Tabrizu na juh cez iransky <span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1253979555_5">Kurdistan</span> a pohorie Zagros. Znamenalo to sice, ze si niekde na vychode budeme musiet vziat autobus, aby sme neprekrocili vizovi limit, no bola to vynikajuca volba.<br />Zatial co v Turecku sa o Kurdistane nemozno ani zmienit, v Irane je to oficialny nazov jednej z provincii. Oboch nas zaujimalo ako sa iransky Kurdi lisia od tureckych. Nasa zvedavost bola natolko silna, ze nam do cesty priviala toho najpovolanejsieho cloveka - Azada, mladeho, neuveritelne energickeho a velmi priatelskeho kurdskeho patriota. Po stretnuti s nim nasledovali tri dni neustalych navstev u jeho znamych a s tym spojene nekonecne debaty o Kurdoch - ich historii a sucasnych problemoch.. Pocas iracko-iranskej vojny sa spolcili s irackymi Kurdmi, co im vlada dosial kruto odplaca. Okrem prenasledovania a vaznenia neposlusnych "poddanych", sustavneho vypalovania lesov (potencialne ukryty pre kurdske gerily) vlada dlhodobo nepodporuje tento region - asi patdesiat percentna nezamestnanost mladych ludi.Azad nas vzal na dvojdnovy (povodne stvorhodinovy) vylet napriec celou provinciou az k hraniciam s Irakom. Z toho, co sme dosial zazili nam nariek vsetkemu Kurdi zostali v pamati ako velmi priatelsky, pohostinny, vcelku uprimni ludia. I potom, co sme opustili Bukan sa nam dostalo este niekolko pozvani a vzdy sme odchadzali s podobnymi dojmami. ..tolko Kurdistan.<br />V meste <span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1253979555_6">Hamedan</span> si na Janciho sadla choroba a tak sme uznali za vhodne, ze on si vezme do Esfahanu autobus a ja tam dojdem za nim na bycikli. Pocas piatich dni som si teda skusil, ake to je v tychto koncinach ist solo. Najskor trosku osamelo, krajina zacala byt zrazu omnoho zaujimavejsia, no clovek sa o to nemal s kym podelit. Za nedlho som sa vsak aklimatizoval a neskor zhodnotil, ze ist sam je sice trochu narocnejsie, no omnoho intenzivnejsie. Okrem ineho som si naplno skusil, ake to je neustale reagovat na prihovarajucich sa ludi. Niezeby mi to nejak zvlast vadilo, ale Janci predsa len komunikativnejsie a dovtedy som odpovede na do nekonecna sa opakujuce: "Helo, how are you? Whants your name? What is your meaning about Iranian people? Are you maried..?" nechaval na neho. Teraz som vsak bol na to sam. Sukromie je tu neznamym pojmom. Je uplne normalne, ze jeme, niekto sa pristavi, bez opytania si prisadne a zacne sa vas vypytovat tie ich super otazky alebo sa nevypytuju nic a mlcky pozoruju - ako jeme, odpocivame.. Ludia nas oslvouju neustale. Dokonca aj ked slapeme, nie je pre nich problem pristavit sa - spomalit auto motorku a klast spominane otazky. Pred Esfahanom som mal pocit, ze mi praskne hlava. Priblizne hodinu sa mi prihovarali najma motorkari. Ignorovat ich bolo bez efektu. Stale si mleli to svoje a opustili ma, az ked som vsetko zodpovedal. Striedali sa <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1253979555_7">pri</span> mne jeden za druhym. Krkolomna jazda nie je ziadna prekazka. Najlepsi si tu, co nevedia po anglicky a stale na vas vytahuju perstinu akoby to bola automatika - si v Irane, tak predsa musis vediet perzsky (farsi).. Je to jeden z mnohych znakov toho, ze tu ludia nie su na cudzincov moc zvyknuti. Je trochu narocne nebyt k nim nevrly. Zrejme si neuvedomuju, ze patria k tuctom dalsim, ktori kladu tie iste otazky.<br />Napriek tomu, ze bol ramadan (predvcerom konecne skoncil) bola iranska pohostinnost velkolepa. Pocas tych piatich dni, co som bol sam som si nekupil takmer ziadne jedno jedlo a mnohe z darovaneho som este doniesol aj do Esfahanu. I tu vsak musim povedat, ze nic nie je zadarmo. Ludia vas sice pozvu k sebe domov, na obed.. Na strane druhej sa vsak na vas pride pozriet cela rodina vratane bratrancov, ujov, pradedkov zo vsetkych kolien. Vzdy je to tak trochu zazitok, no vsetkeho moc skodi.<br />Iranci maju tak trochu problem s mobilnym sokom. Neviem, kedy tu prisli telefony s fotakmi, no ma ich uplne kazdy, dokonca aj pastieri. Nejde ani tak o to, ze ich maju ale ze si nas neustale fotia. Teda nielen ti, s ktorymi sa dame do reci - co je vcelku OK - ale i obycajny okoloidujuci, okolojazdiaci. Je uplne normalne, ze slapeme, pristavi sa motorkar, poprosi nas, aby sme zastavili, ze sa chce s nami odfotit... Na fotke to vsak vyzera tak, akoby sa stretli strari priatelia. Zhodnotili sme to tak, ze je to pre nich asi vec prestize - odfotit sa s europanom..<br />Kulturne zmeny nastastie neprichadzaju az tak prudko, aby sme sa nestihali aklimatizovat. Teraz sa uz necudujem ludom zo zapadu, s ktorymi sme sa stretli v Esfahane. Mnohi z nich zostavaju v lacnom hoteliku niekolko dni az tyzdnov a nie je to kvoli Esfahanu.. Putovanie na bycikli je asi najlepsim sposobom ako sa vyhnut kulturnemu soku.<br />Este som chcel o politike, ku ktorej sa v rozhovoroch s miestnymi dostaneme vacsinou az pri tych najhlbsich rozhovoroch. No myslim, ze to by bol uz tento email pridlhy..<br /><br />Vyzera to tak, ze v Irane sa krivka exotickoskosti zacina vyvijat exponencialne - tesime sa na Pakistan..:)<br /><br />Vas Dusanjanči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-76839598473887882482009-09-26T08:32:00.000-07:002009-09-27T09:32:54.283-07:00Cycling to Asia, week 9 cont.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuTStdczW1cuWC7OtkAxSh76x3LpbT9pyvMk0SbIYqD7e4ZwODsmFv0GWBZoSwK_Ehv2G60d8l6edBPjrZKsVr6Z4eNVe6KrutMHryUpL1SoJymesuQ5GmW7dceSKvKryH3s6oA/s1600-h/DSC_0525.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386183439945994226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuTStdczW1cuWC7OtkAxSh76x3LpbT9pyvMk0SbIYqD7e4ZwODsmFv0GWBZoSwK_Ehv2G60d8l6edBPjrZKsVr6Z4eNVe6KrutMHryUpL1SoJymesuQ5GmW7dceSKvKryH3s6oA/s200/DSC_0525.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6sV0nSnoh80CVYqDUk9hJFAUoCxdRt_ZxKhPcS4lbglWJCIjlv8xJQRC2bC5_mIzsrkN1tL-yYKVUUBhCQSRMT-gaoYDKCWwpFBKGAfcrPRD-nhvTwzrddIOtZkTjcET-scVcjQ/s1600-h/DSC_0486.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386181607714553666" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6sV0nSnoh80CVYqDUk9hJFAUoCxdRt_ZxKhPcS4lbglWJCIjlv8xJQRC2bC5_mIzsrkN1tL-yYKVUUBhCQSRMT-gaoYDKCWwpFBKGAfcrPRD-nhvTwzrddIOtZkTjcET-scVcjQ/s200/DSC_0486.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Esfahan wasn't just chill out in the hostel... even though this was probably the highlight for me. But there were other things as well. Like the Friday anti-Israel demonstration. We can't resist, it might be risky, but lets see it in our own eyes! Every major city in Iran is holding this propaganda backed up by government . The whole Emam square was full of strong and primitive statements like "Down with Isreal" or " Down with England!" making it a big fiasco... Who IS REAL? I tried to have a conversation but the fanatical crowd was strongly narrow minded. Innocent Palestine<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRuY-RL-qQmHiGHfAk1xE4JhgAe8kuGQPATKASbS4dJXbwSP8irMquy5I2Dk-ASbiRWw9ANpk5iUOf_SCJ6DEd4t5gzpnEZUZrER7EdMHreLrsIRxbkcXNCyLT3wNmDhe8bSzwg/s1600-h/DSC_0486.JPG"></a> people are suffering. First I tried to be diplomatic and said I don't have any opinion on this matter<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPVecu97yVZ_AzOlzzD7w8pPya_y5E3f7K-LrSGh7rGGP96G33I29VLGjBEi9FsdTGQrGGf1bQylCd_kHM9SSRVFl3m5c6y-FSY3yiCTnRhkSlsSYCxmEbQj-h9kzw9fPNV2b4GA/s1600-h/DSC_0484.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386177624900029218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPVecu97yVZ_AzOlzzD7w8pPya_y5E3f7K-LrSGh7rGGP96G33I29VLGjBEi9FsdTGQrGGf1bQylCd_kHM9SSRVFl3m5c6y-FSY3yiCTnRhkSlsSYCxmEbQj-h9kzw9fPNV2b4GA/s200/DSC_0484.JPG" border="0" /></a> I was told that I'm human I should have one! So I told them that the problem is more complicated and Palestinians are also harming the Israeli. You should have seen the tension I've created! Wow! I'd better backup... as Dusan have said: "one who has an opinion on this issue must have got already lost in it". The square started to fill up and the crowds started to be more load. Boasting all sorts of hatred... We didn't understand much, since it was in Farsi but just looking at it was quite sad. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRuY-RL-qQmHiGHfAk1xE4JhgAe8kuGQPATKASbS4dJXbwSP8irMquy5I2Dk-ASbiRWw9ANpk5iUOf_SCJ6DEd4t5gzpnEZUZrER7EdMHreLrsIRxbkcXNCyLT3wNmDhe8bSzwg/s1600-h/DSC_0486.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRuY-RL-qQmHiGHfAk1xE4JhgAe8kuGQPATKASbS4dJXbwSP8irMquy5I2Dk-ASbiRWw9ANpk5iUOf_SCJ6DEd4t5gzpnEZUZrER7EdMHreLrsIRxbkcXNCyLT3wNmDhe8bSzwg/s1600-h/DSC_0486.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRuY-RL-qQmHiGHfAk1xE4JhgAe8kuGQPATKASbS4dJXbwSP8irMquy5I2Dk-ASbiRWw9ANpk5iUOf_SCJ6DEd4t5gzpnEZUZrER7EdMHreLrsIRxbkcXNCyLT3wNmDhe8bSzwg/s1600-h/DSC_0486.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRuY-RL-qQmHiGHfAk1xE4JhgAe8kuGQPATKASbS4dJXbwSP8irMquy5I2Dk-ASbiRWw9ANpk5iUOf_SCJ6DEd4t5gzpnEZUZrER7EdMHreLrsIRxbkcXNCyLT3wNmDhe8bSzwg/s1600-h/DSC_0486.JPG"></a>When we were leaving people were still marching into the city with flags and slogans, shouting out loud. Some guys told us that this is just a show, that they don't agree. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9dt2balvjOGO10CS35sAp1CicX7F_SPtApL1h0FH1ALs9ocNDDpN36Fu3y4wAMbTJ7yPKpio7bI_4GJXM8tqxAMxwDOhxWKUVG6pRmfl-tZABZicrQhHgQ2HvX04zYHrb4BTjSA/s1600-h/DSC_0465.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386179677914288322" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9dt2balvjOGO10CS35sAp1CicX7F_SPtApL1h0FH1ALs9ocNDDpN36Fu3y4wAMbTJ7yPKpio7bI_4GJXM8tqxAMxwDOhxWKUVG6pRmfl-tZABZicrQhHgQ2HvX04zYHrb4BTjSA/s200/DSC_0465.JPG" border="0" /></a>We've found out that there is also an anti-government demonstration as a reply, but this one we've missed.<br />For the rest of the week we were just sight seeing the Esfahan highlights. Yes the mosques are beautiful and the tea houses spledid, but still it's the people that make the country interesting for us.</div></div>janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-24523140740591791172009-09-19T01:05:00.000-07:002009-09-21T01:17:29.475-07:00Cycling to Asia, week 9<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw87RQtHbdtvhWP2FuoCJUSailRqrLHixGQQiWy_62HL2teT-ItNFaO-L-Qrd97lCtSXoJ9dhdxqUgljGrmk5GQXhSbMvJKxfe8a5vBdw2ZLD7eS1MpKe_HS8AfrWjX5nGoVC_-g/s1600-h/P1210473.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw87RQtHbdtvhWP2FuoCJUSailRqrLHixGQQiWy_62HL2teT-ItNFaO-L-Qrd97lCtSXoJ9dhdxqUgljGrmk5GQXhSbMvJKxfe8a5vBdw2ZLD7eS1MpKe_HS8AfrWjX5nGoVC_-g/s320/P1210473.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383813288155472210" border="0" /></a><br />Taking bus to Esfahan was a good choice. Not just because my illness involved into a pretty severe one. We do not travel to see sights, neither to chat with other travelers, but after two months one appreciate a bit of European atmosphere. Esfahan turned out to be the number one place in whole Iran for meeting other overlanders, out of whom quite a few use the same travel means as we do...<br /><br />The overnight bus was alright except that the Amir Kabir hotel was still closed at 5am. Since I didn't know what to do I just roamed around, trying to find a park where I could stretch my bones for a bit. Fortunately nothing looked suitable, so I went back the same street and yes they've just opened... I got my bed and started the healing process... originally I thought I will just lie in the bed, but next day I've found out that there are other three bicycles in the courtyard... this is way to tantalizing to resist... so I hanged around for a bit. First I came across the magic bus people. The name was coined by me, but how would you call 30 people traveling from London to Sydney on a big orange bus with a balcony? It looked more like a house on wheels than a coach and the people resembled the good old hippie days when this road was traveled by the pioneers of backpacking...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCqqyhf9tTIoxNqAkt9j5PIzyjTFmu8naS8zQioYU6w4gSm53-m2q7vTezeco-T1TdFou4EkK6-M6FkWTAIjqRPdgAkrUXSKm6iZrfK-cPHDFhdZVdj7rk3TYlA1o8sZzyTSBlqw/s1600-h/Iran+dave.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCqqyhf9tTIoxNqAkt9j5PIzyjTFmu8naS8zQioYU6w4gSm53-m2q7vTezeco-T1TdFou4EkK6-M6FkWTAIjqRPdgAkrUXSKm6iZrfK-cPHDFhdZVdj7rk3TYlA1o8sZzyTSBlqw/s200/Iran+dave.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383812039654722034" border="0" /></a><br />Then I met <a href="http://www.velotrip.ch/">David the Swiss</a>! He is taking his time, that I have to say right a way. He is cycling from Basel to India, roughly as we do but he is on the road since April, so exactly double as long as we are. Well if somebody have the resources and Swiss passport that allows you to get 90 days visa in Turkey or Iran, then why shouldn't he take the opportunity to explore these vibrant countries, right? He is pretty straight forward guy asking good questions... no polite rubbish or shallow talk.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrjdsqlCx6mqZWftY3f8wMQE9vZoy5Jfc10UTT3ku-bMxf__Foa9UpXZx_sbhBFZjL2Jd7hm7N-BJd0PeAar4tmgVNFxuqoMVpg2a1xlRUYqw6pC3FfsqCkIyhQ651pYGK6h69nw/s1600-h/IMG_0929.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrjdsqlCx6mqZWftY3f8wMQE9vZoy5Jfc10UTT3ku-bMxf__Foa9UpXZx_sbhBFZjL2Jd7hm7N-BJd0PeAar4tmgVNFxuqoMVpg2a1xlRUYqw6pC3FfsqCkIyhQ651pYGK6h69nw/s200/IMG_0929.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383810857194147730" border="0" /></a>Afterward Arian showed up. This nice fella is cycling his way from Holland to India and also doesn't bother him self much with things like getting stuck in Esfahan for almost two weeks. Yes, I would like to see the man who would leave earlier if he had met a nice local girl who speaks good English and is eager to show you around. It's not difficult to fall in love with these dark-deep-eyed beauties carelessly covered with scarfs that just provokes your imagination.Some women -the traditional one- are covered from head to toes... the head scarf is properly tided and shows just the round face with eagle nose and Persian eyes. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_taKCxZmmtxvNvN8egxFyZ_AnXZmeS3Pb-VjemnCyXMlnhm2wGK3ByzNGQrGlQ38UUjgEoNZWEC6U_oSpi1Y1X8D0j8rjcRaBZ8oIkNdVhuQEgRFPQcRB24KcWQslIk8UvKBOw/s1600-h/IMG_1618.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_taKCxZmmtxvNvN8egxFyZ_AnXZmeS3Pb-VjemnCyXMlnhm2wGK3ByzNGQrGlQ38UUjgEoNZWEC6U_oSpi1Y1X8D0j8rjcRaBZ8oIkNdVhuQEgRFPQcRB24KcWQslIk8UvKBOw/s200/IMG_1618.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383811819082514946" border="0" /></a>These are not so sexy, that's true, but than there are these youthful girls rebelling in the Iranian way. Usually wearing more colorful jackets and trousers, not pure black and definitely not the all covering tent-like chador. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-YtxJ-fNgV-g8T1tzOAiSJd-lL2fmU0n4pv6GRT8HsNolk-3kuqOwexS8Vh7M8L5el6tnijfjiLEJ1eioBtmtFxuT_J_2IgGxUcJwmUjJqaCv14rLGGElSnJpHH7Gz6d-rHOlQ/s1600-h/P1210476.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-YtxJ-fNgV-g8T1tzOAiSJd-lL2fmU0n4pv6GRT8HsNolk-3kuqOwexS8Vh7M8L5el6tnijfjiLEJ1eioBtmtFxuT_J_2IgGxUcJwmUjJqaCv14rLGGElSnJpHH7Gz6d-rHOlQ/s200/P1210476.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383810022901161970" border="0" /></a>The most revolutionary and typical sign is the headscarf. In their case it's more of a delicate decoration, more like a romantic veil then a covering cloth. Lot of care is given to make sure that enough hair will be visible... no matter that the scarf falls off sometimes... Together with the unique ayes and exotic Persian faces they are just gorges. Covered enough to follow the rules, but not much to protect you from craving and thinking what's beyond? So Arian we all envy you!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWPrw_-0WmfVpnzrstcWG5T9gX_kW2F2X4TyNXbQegiOsaJP4zG5_gM4s6Ej6ns2PAg2w5gvWCLoCsd25NqVKLq_H0YicrSQduLbwolv48iYf86A7Y7nH-h7_FixkiEFemJC40A/s1600-h/IMG_1615.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWPrw_-0WmfVpnzrstcWG5T9gX_kW2F2X4TyNXbQegiOsaJP4zG5_gM4s6Ej6ns2PAg2w5gvWCLoCsd25NqVKLq_H0YicrSQduLbwolv48iYf86A7Y7nH-h7_FixkiEFemJC40A/s200/IMG_1615.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383808314596838002" border="0" /></a><br />Lastly there is one more bike in the courtyard, but we couldn't find the owner. No wonder when he is in Teheran. Kevin had to extend his visas so ended up traveling more by bus then by bike... He is probably the most experienced from us since he already did a south to north America journey. It took him a year and it was just two years ago so it looks like he felt in love with it. This time he is doing the Ireland South-east Asia tour with no definite destination end neither definite route. He mentioned India, China, Burma, Indonesia... all by land, so some miles will be covered while he comes back to Ireland.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZoS5w3itOIOUG0dphCPgSdxtY6gPZSrFWTPYQofZFZeJjrstK09wF5sysR2LB9-qQTA6yOK9KxuvSDFG3ne3B0CO8lY4BQvCSDqR9xDZYS2ekPO287XDtnitVrz_GMKivrus4A/s1600-h/IMG_1616.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZoS5w3itOIOUG0dphCPgSdxtY6gPZSrFWTPYQofZFZeJjrstK09wF5sysR2LB9-qQTA6yOK9KxuvSDFG3ne3B0CO8lY4BQvCSDqR9xDZYS2ekPO287XDtnitVrz_GMKivrus4A/s200/IMG_1616.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383808004157286930" border="0" /></a><br />Good luck to all of you guys. It's been really nice to relax, chill-out and talk with you. I feel refreshed. Like after coming home for a weekend and then starting the journey again. Just that the half is behind me already... Healthy physically and stronger mentally. There were times when I felt awkward, since all the locals acts as you have just fallen down from the moon and that they have never seen anybody doing something strange like you do... but there are plenty people who did it before us quite a few that are doing it while we are, so maybe we meet again... we all go the same direction... I'm looking forward!!!janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-54618661901927546252009-09-13T01:08:00.000-07:002009-09-19T00:48:51.891-07:00Cycling to Asia, week 8After leaving Boukan we felt like escaping a prison. No, no we were treated with honor and we felt great, it's just that during the whole trip we were mostly on our own and during the last four days we lost the power to manage our time. We cycled like crazy, reflecting what had just happened to us. Wow! This was awesome. <br />After half of the day and one invitation for lunch, we met Balal. An cyclist going a decent 80km ride with no equipment, not even water. Originally he went the opposite direction, but because of us he decided to change that. So he went with us. Or we went with him? He invited us for a second lunch in his uncle house in a small village. Afterward we continued to Divandareh, where he invited us to stay in his brother's house. Dusan said he would refuse if he was on his own, but since I can do the talking we can accept this. It was a good 120km in a hilly surroundings. This part of Iran is beautiful but demanding for cyclists, specially after 4 days off! Mohammad, Balals brother was an advanced yogi. The whole family was very nice, but much simpler than the Boukan people. Wow if it goes like this in whole Iran, then we will have a problem... we will run out of time. 30 days visa is not much, when the hospitality of the whole nation extraordinary. But after Boukan experience we are much more careful. Next day we were invited to see the nearby cave, but this time we preferred to keep on moving. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghWpr8T3Q8s7PpnIsTxITuV1sHnTV66HUGsaO2O_U4zI8OJPjEPix-jnu4cARth-7L_QKYMnFUicbrxk0oiA4oMdh5QAEoD1F52G9K7mBBWMAiqHnNvhjrZRP3l4m3sRuvHbSxcg/s1600-h/P1210303.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghWpr8T3Q8s7PpnIsTxITuV1sHnTV66HUGsaO2O_U4zI8OJPjEPix-jnu4cARth-7L_QKYMnFUicbrxk0oiA4oMdh5QAEoD1F52G9K7mBBWMAiqHnNvhjrZRP3l4m3sRuvHbSxcg/s400/P1210303.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383081760425165202" /></a>Now we are in Hamedan. Big city with mountainous surrounding. All Iranian cities looks quite bum-friendly. We slept in a city park, together with a 50 or more local families. The same happened in Tabriz, so it looks good for us. But I've caught a flue or something... well it comes from time to time so I accepted it. The best way how to deal with the situation was to take a bus to Esfahan, there I'll wait for Dusan. He will have the opportunity to experience the solo cycling in Iran and I'll have a chance to heal properly. <br />I got used to cycle and not rely on public transport so much that I found it very frustrating to get the essential information on the bus station. My European mind takes it for granted that the people working there should help you, but the laid back Asians don't thing so. If you don't speak Farsi they don't feel to do any extra effort to find out what you want for them, so just finding out when the bus leaves, how much does it cost and how long does it takes took me a good half and hour -nothing really pleasant with a headache and fever. I dind't mind all the attention and three-question-conversations so far, but for the last few days I started to be sick of it. They appear to be helpful, they pretend to be nice, but it's all just a show. I can't help feeling that they just want to show off -look I can speak to a stranger, look I'm a nice guy... sorry, big sorry to the honest ones... just that today I really needed a help and everybody ignored me... to the extend that while talking to the ticket seller there where three other customers favored in stead of me, jumped in front and got the ticket, while I was trying to find out how to get to Esfahan. So what is this "Welcome to Iran" or "Do you need any help?" about? Do they really mean it, or is it all just fake?janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-30143889914311638332009-09-12T23:31:00.000-07:002009-09-19T02:12:39.365-07:00Cycling to Asia, week 7Since the beginning of this journey I feel like an old explorer, like the Aragorn in the Tolkien's stories, just that we don't walk, we ride. Our horses are from steel and our gear is bit more advanced, but we do go to unknown territories , we go east. The morning we left Dogubeyazit for Iran, this feeling appeared again. At the outskirts of the town two big angry evil creatures attacked us. Jaws wide open, teeth looking sharp, barking and running at us. Fear and shock changed us into old warriors. Dusan the brave and Jan the valiant drew their swords and with a combative shout warded off the beasts. Adrenalin run in my blood for the next half an hour!<br />The border crossing was less romantic. Two hours of bureaucracy and pointless waiting was feasible just because we met three other travelers heading to Iran. The change was noticeable right behind the last gate. Surprisingly even the climate became more pleasant. We definitely left the cold Kurdistan. Everybody is welcoming us. Every single car is greeting us. People shout out of the windows. It's incredible. This is what we needed after the Turkish kids throwing stones at us. We didn't change much money at the border and the time change caused that we missed the banks in Maku. After this beautiful town in a rocky gorge there are just villages so for almost three days we were running on a shoestring budged. Like in the good old days, when we were poor students hitch-hiking trough Europe. <br />But Iran wasn't just about positive experiences. The lack of privacy is even stronger than in Turkey. People surround us wherever we stop. They are polite, they are nice, but there is no space left between me and Dusan. This is quite tiring. Their English is better, but their understanding is very low. <br />We also encountered our first technical problems. First my camcorder started to hesitate so some of the best moments couldn't be captured because the picture was shaking. No big deal, but the broken rim on my back wheel was a bit of a surprise. <br />I mentioned in the part 1 what a trouble I had with wheels, ended up buying the most expensive Mavic wheels day before our departure. After 4000km this "everlasting" super wheel got broken. The rim couldn't last the weight and cracked. For two and half day I went without the back brake and on a shaking wheel, hoping that in Tabriz I'll find a good alternative. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2g66kqfnFgkBENgbm_5CliUw3aCpROSysJ0u_zGGvnUn6z9Ixf7Az3WzzUEx4unLRoCJsW0kyy9XL-QIsC1CYdfcY_F6bhjS6EfVpvl9te2Phorc4DrLfZXU23hUyD_CDSleu5Q/s1600-h/P1210157.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2g66kqfnFgkBENgbm_5CliUw3aCpROSysJ0u_zGGvnUn6z9Ixf7Az3WzzUEx4unLRoCJsW0kyy9XL-QIsC1CYdfcY_F6bhjS6EfVpvl9te2Phorc4DrLfZXU23hUyD_CDSleu5Q/s200/P1210157.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383103275834041906" /></a>Surprisingly it wasn't bad at all. You can get almost anything for bicycle here. Just that they don't always sell you what you need, e.g. I wanted to buy just the back hub. But the Novatec they had could be sold only as a pair. Why? Nobody knows! So I bought just a simple Shimano. Never mind its working good. If I make it with this wheel all the way to India, then the 150 euro Mavic wheel will be beaten by 30$ Shimano. Isn't it funny. <br />From Tabriz we headed to Iranian Kurdistan. We decided not to go direction Teheran, even though it might have been easier, because it would be more ordinary. Kurdistan sounds good. The choice was well appreciated after few days. Kurdish people are great and the climate is cycle friendly. Boukan seemed just like any other town, that we have passed. But we were wrong. While buying an Iranian scarf (we don't want to look like American bikers) a bunch of people surrounded us as usual. One old man with a decent German invited us for lunch. He turned up to be very noisy, the whole family was quite crazy. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8CVxfT77zN8bdWh1xb1MPZqWZCMqB6DCa6iDyZ5AqO5b-JU6IXs-Qf-p0NVfy3Hb9bRJoGV2-9oQ8kGo_us8GlaL0CX-oOEvkr1qw3XrB2yXnfRRdZGVHB1gfjqoJAs4A228Sw/s1600-h/P1210212.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8CVxfT77zN8bdWh1xb1MPZqWZCMqB6DCa6iDyZ5AqO5b-JU6IXs-Qf-p0NVfy3Hb9bRJoGV2-9oQ8kGo_us8GlaL0CX-oOEvkr1qw3XrB2yXnfRRdZGVHB1gfjqoJAs4A228Sw/s200/P1210212.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383101234300315458" /></a>But there we met Azad, also a character, but much nicer. He invited us to see his family. Well alright, we stop for a short while. But after an hour or so, he offered us to stay for the night. We gladly accepted. Firstly because of our teeth problems (just during the lunch a half of my tooth felt of), secondly this looks much more peaceful family and thirdly Azad's uncle is an English teacher, so we can communicate. But the lack of privacy that I have been talking about didn't disappear. It even increased together with a total lack of time management. We went to see the dentist. He gave me an appointment at 9:30pm!!! Imagine that! Afterwards they dragged us trough the town, we visited Azad's job, then the German grandpa's job, continuing to bazzar. They introduced us to hundred of people and showed us dozen of shops. Yeah! I don't remember feeling more tired on this trip than today. I asked for a rest, but no, first we have to see the towns view point. The time we came back to Azad's home I was knocked. And of course it was just enough to have a dinner and rush to the dentist. Nobody cares that we are 10min late. We are in Iran. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqAG9E7unQwwhard6JifYnpZYdGbxxie_mo6fU86TX7mkBMuCRbf_L-nsnVF9RaREHgYSvFuIpWMI4c9NbE-wuWJkz3aOCb72OUEUKzxsn_VObVyCn3X9q3n0YuRCEnHp1ZNSCw/s1600-h/P1210227.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqAG9E7unQwwhard6JifYnpZYdGbxxie_mo6fU86TX7mkBMuCRbf_L-nsnVF9RaREHgYSvFuIpWMI4c9NbE-wuWJkz3aOCb72OUEUKzxsn_VObVyCn3X9q3n0YuRCEnHp1ZNSCw/s200/P1210227.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383096709481371954" /></a><br />The next day they offered us to go to see the beautiful mountains, but it's 4h drive so we decided not to go. We rather continue our cycling tour. But what about to see the lake, that's just 1 or 2 hours? OK, that sounds good. The plan was to leave Boukan at 3pm, but it was way pas 4 when we left the town. After 2h of driving Azad asked a Shepard how far it is to the lake. The reply was a shocking 2 hours! This is the theory of FSHE (Iranian word for chaos and freedom in one). We are not going back now... the country is beautiful, hills are high but very dry. The road changed into a gravel track, so for the next hour I felt like in Pakistan. Dusan started to feel sick. After 3 hours we had enough, but what shell we do? 15km before the Marivan Dusan left the lunch on the side of the road and we finished off the trip. The time we reached the lake it was already dark. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTEX-_BnYtbmDN8r_aRC1hUcbbb9_wbiUsbjk5aXZnsPb8GZvFqr0OSOEzKp7dVmPiyBTOLSNt6YQbaQuSdxqACjI04qA-Q0Qt8vJ_E_nd0f8TeTItjLaBKnUzNMy1MheuTd0gQQ/s1600-h/P1210264.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTEX-_BnYtbmDN8r_aRC1hUcbbb9_wbiUsbjk5aXZnsPb8GZvFqr0OSOEzKp7dVmPiyBTOLSNt6YQbaQuSdxqACjI04qA-Q0Qt8vJ_E_nd0f8TeTItjLaBKnUzNMy1MheuTd0gQQ/s200/P1210264.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383090557823679074" /></a><br />We went for dinner and met Azad's friend Hamam. He invited us to stay in his family house. This was the highlight of the trip. He lives with his four beautiful sisters and caring mother in a nice house. Pity that just the teacher speaks English but we entertained our selves with tongue twisters and had fun till late night. Very pleasant atmosphere. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnL26TaoIVNtAZYFtRP4JqrMDB_UQvip7D5VA6KNpHrU5xuA5JDcoIvGlP4eePbz_RE_8FVA5I94nsCoSahzkyEgEyvGPHRZi9b5IuiJD8v9F4flqmnk31NTm6s2ZNWi92bhcWw/s1600-h/P1210255.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnL26TaoIVNtAZYFtRP4JqrMDB_UQvip7D5VA6KNpHrU5xuA5JDcoIvGlP4eePbz_RE_8FVA5I94nsCoSahzkyEgEyvGPHRZi9b5IuiJD8v9F4flqmnk31NTm6s2ZNWi92bhcWw/s200/P1210255.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383088215453781586" /></a><br /><br />The next day we wanted to leave, but we got invited to see the lake... ended up in Hamam's garden... leaving the town after a lunch... This time we decided not to go back the same way. The road was horrible. Instead we went the longer way trough Sanandaj. Good choice, but the time we reached the city it was dark again. Iranians are crazy drivers and Azad is not an exception, so driving another 3-4hours to Boukan could be quite an adventure. Instead we were invited by another Azads friend and we stayed for the night... this could continue for ever!!! <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6T8JJwlkXdDLYO7tMV4loXS7-Ze6SUu9rXU1yFDuAOd87OLDOtNV-K0bfTRuErkfwFCtDFeQ66chzZVIZQwq4LQcA-O1XBpE1twlT-VHGkC9B6rqGg7JciC9b0OJ4AjW4fqzTWA/s1600-h/P1210265.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6T8JJwlkXdDLYO7tMV4loXS7-Ze6SUu9rXU1yFDuAOd87OLDOtNV-K0bfTRuErkfwFCtDFeQ66chzZVIZQwq4LQcA-O1XBpE1twlT-VHGkC9B6rqGg7JciC9b0OJ4AjW4fqzTWA/s200/P1210265.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383086741037730962" /></a>Iranian people are extra hospitable and Azad and his friends are a good example of it. But after four days we had enough. So now you know how a 4 hours round trip to a lake can change into a 4 days journey trough Kurdish families. It was excellent, it was very nice, this is what we wanted to experience in Iran, but we got a slight overdose. We need our privacy, we need our freedom, we want to ride our steel horses and keep on moving east!<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />N.B. This last part is overlapping with week 8 but for obvious reasons I kept it in this article.</span>janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-76759252996086812092009-08-29T10:23:00.000-07:002009-09-19T01:00:09.335-07:00Cycling to Asia, week 6After Erzincan a real east Turkey experience have started. The country is similar, roads are as bad as before... no just kidding... but the people have changed. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk1Dy-pPyS3EajWv13LwEm2OrqmJ2-tCeZ6Z1IcX3PWSpS867o-vOFT0rKNOCvolidr_vI2sSgYAgjDym7HroHCheEG9BbCuq7XiT2TTsf2zWwDnOF3UJwnYBLfyUMcoCV4fFQcw/s1600-h/P1210029.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk1Dy-pPyS3EajWv13LwEm2OrqmJ2-tCeZ6Z1IcX3PWSpS867o-vOFT0rKNOCvolidr_vI2sSgYAgjDym7HroHCheEG9BbCuq7XiT2TTsf2zWwDnOF3UJwnYBLfyUMcoCV4fFQcw/s320/P1210029.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383078869651296594" /></a>How? They got even more tough. This here is a bit different from the Furkans Turkey in Tekirdag. The cloths are simple, dirty, worn out and a tear or a patch is not uncommon. The faces are rough, wrinkly, adjusted to the ceaseless winds and cold nights. We are averaging 1500m in altitude. Ramadan is taken seriously here. No more çorba or çay during the day. We have warm food only in evenings, sometimes in mornings. But our stove started to give us some trouble. NO! Please not now. Now it is highly appreciated, otherwise we'll have no warm food at all. Locals start to eat after 7pm... We are in the middle of a field or next to a river, camping, at this time. <br /><br />At the beginning of this week we crawled up to our -so far- highest point on bikes: a pass in 2290m.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rVqFxwnDZg-Wm9V8zHpIJFMgDICFtukmhV7AevyQ-T2jjpsNbxrN6Ua_aq3N14KZqyyjpw36gxhh0g-88VdiDssDy2GjagTID-QlTtogqxNJ7cDE8FdqLvBzoW7CaujNlLol9g/s1600-h/P1210042.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rVqFxwnDZg-Wm9V8zHpIJFMgDICFtukmhV7AevyQ-T2jjpsNbxrN6Ua_aq3N14KZqyyjpw36gxhh0g-88VdiDssDy2GjagTID-QlTtogqxNJ7cDE8FdqLvBzoW7CaujNlLol9g/s200/P1210042.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383082799884893234" /></a> But to be honest it was easier than the 900m one in Serbia. We celebrated it appropriately with halva and hazelnuts and here we go! Down hills oh how I love them! Straight 40km to Erzurum. Big city, but probably the most strict when it comes to Ramadan. We couldn't get anything warm so we just took a snack on the sidewalk. You should see the looks! Funny we met Sheila a girl we know from Istanbul. What a coincidence... but there are no coincidences, right!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAuHa31_GvpHL58RxHoK8D8OT3wEEqKqPzJRe5reWAX67n2azbhihNR7MBOEGggMKq2YUMczhiF2Pp2Up7AcbK7Y5ALHw0Gqtav9zL8QF0c7g-gqGZi_lqL4nqQk6v4KYF18mU9Q/s1600-h/P1200987.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAuHa31_GvpHL58RxHoK8D8OT3wEEqKqPzJRe5reWAX67n2azbhihNR7MBOEGggMKq2YUMczhiF2Pp2Up7AcbK7Y5ALHw0Gqtav9zL8QF0c7g-gqGZi_lqL4nqQk6v4KYF18mU9Q/s320/P1200987.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383077948502975522" /></a><br /><br />A good way how to judge how far east we are -except looking at our bike comps - is to get into a town and check the behavior of the locals. When we stop just to refill our water bottles we stir the them a bit. There are always few busybodies around us immediately... Can you imagine what it means to got to the center and buy e.g. milk and bread. In Agri it had started with few stones thrown at us by street kids at the outskirt of the town, then all the men near the bakery surrounded Dusan, while I went inside to get a loaf. Where are you from?, where are you going?, what's your name? Do you like Turkey? All this in Turkish of course. But we've learned a bit so we can answer almost fluently... Then we moved to a grocery store and the whole circus has started again. Just people have changed, questions have remained. We know them by heart. Sometimes we even give answers when there are no questions. People are interested, amused, shocked and always very welcoming. Just the kids! Hello money, hello money is the only English they utter at us. We have seen also some rude gestures and some stones flying by. What should we do? We have tear gas but this is for dogs. Adults are very helpful with this, sometimes. If they see a kid harassing us, they usually send them away... <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRF-aWJt3s2o0eH9YJPqT6LJJUhcD0OSoUHo8R2sQkvEdr84uPz4ZZSvm4brdTLpm08LbDSljaA0LjkNHGENnX2WGKTSDeUJ4qTN9XTY7rxV3MczI7TMQ4hWCCoaxtBl5aA_LC8Q/s1600-h/P1210033.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRF-aWJt3s2o0eH9YJPqT6LJJUhcD0OSoUHo8R2sQkvEdr84uPz4ZZSvm4brdTLpm08LbDSljaA0LjkNHGENnX2WGKTSDeUJ4qTN9XTY7rxV3MczI7TMQ4hWCCoaxtBl5aA_LC8Q/s200/P1210033.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383079870691669986" /></a><br />Last few days were very relaxing. We haven't done more than 85km a day I think. I lost track of the mileage, it's not important anymore.But the main reason for this is my buttocks. It got a bit irritated of the hours just sitting on the saddle. Plus I got a slight diarrhea so the trip started to be literally a pain in the ass... NO NO. It's not bad at all. It's better and better, because me and Dusan got really well together. Our way of traveling and dealing with daily activities is almost identical. Just the body is calling for a break. So it shall have it. <br /><br />We took a day and half off in Dogubeyazit. Nice camping under majestic palace Ishak pasa saray. Our first hot shower since Istanbul. So we can continue to Iran... yeah!!!<br /><br />pics will come from Iran... at least I hope since the I've heard that the internet is restricted in there now... cheers.janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9247954.post-51958586642896950762009-08-25T04:24:00.000-07:002009-08-25T04:38:48.069-07:00Cycling to Asia, Lion in Zion<OBJECT id=BLOG_video-8b233744576f99c2 class=BLOG_video_class width=320 height=266 contentId="8b233744576f99c2"></OBJECT><br />This is how we entertain our self a bit on a long and straight roads in Turkey. We have last 5 days a head of us and then Iran. We are looking forward to a change. Turks are bit too rough. All the shouts, toots and attention... one can get fed up with that. No, no we didnt, all Im saying ıs that a change wıll be welcomed. On the other side Ramadan wıll be much more strict ın Inaran, so we better get used to eat just bread lunches...janči just a travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04528474537134657719noreply@blogger.com1