El Viejo Viajero Does Cebu

Hi, I’m Hardie. Welcome to my new vlog El Viejo Viajero, the old traveler, my Spanish nom de guerre in recognition of my many years in Latin America, and the past history of my current home in the Philippines as a previous member of the Spanish Empire. I’ve called Cebu home for more than two years now, but I’ve never really vlogged it, or even blogged about it, with a v or a b, unless you count the period of my hospitalization, which was almost the end of my career as a traveler, and a travel blogger—almost. Because when the title of your blog is ‘Have Catheter, Will Travel,” then you’re pressing your luck, and hedging your bets, beyond the point which might be considered healthy. That was then; this is now. So now I want to pretend that I’m the new kid in town, fresh and full of excitement, ready to conquer the world, while telling you the best place to get the best views of a world equal parts water and earth, history and mystery, truth and consequence. Because that’s my job, as I see it, to explain history and culture as best I can, complete with photographs, since so few do, while they concentrate on the bars and pubs, restaurants and clubs, while ignoring what came before and what needs still to be explained. If you’re new to Cebu, then it all began down on the water’s edge near the city’s center. That’s where today you’ll find Magellan’s Cross, the actual cross that Ferdinand Magellan brought to the islands to begin its worship of Christianity, back in the year 1521 when Magellan landed as part of his round-the-world travel. You remember Magellan, right? That’s his English name. He’s also known as Fernando Magallanes in Spanish and Magalhaes in Portuguese, his native language. If this was his approximate half-way point around the world, it was also his final resting place, as he fell victim to the recriminations of the locals led by Lapu-lapu. May he rest in peace, though his body has never been found. Nearby is the basilica of Santo Nino, the country’s oldest Roman Catholic Church, dating from 1565, when the Holy child (Santo Nino) was found. It’s also a fully functioning modern church, also, so morning mass is easy to find at 0800 am in English and other times in Cebuano. It’s all quite beautiful and spiritually fulfilling, especially if you’re Catholic. Remember to dress appropriately, with long pants and no spaghetti straps. Also nearby is the historic Fort San Pedro, constructed in 1700-something to keep the enemies at bay and the pirates at sea, but just between you and me I suspect it was also designed to oversee the burgeoning galleon trade with Acapulco, Mexico, which yearly transferred supplies and product from one port to the other, while the Chinese waited to count their silver from Taxco, Mexico. This is no mock-up job, either, no. These are the actual cannons used to forestall the plunder of precious resources by precocious freebooters. Also, not far away, and still in the downtown area is the traditional fresh market at Carbon, where you can get all your fresh fruits and vegetables. It goes late into the night. You probably won’t be staying there, though, since most tourists now stay uptown, or even farther away at Mandaue or Lahug or Lapu Lapu near the airport. I like it near Fuente Osmena, though, which is like the new center, since the old Chinese centers have long since lost significance and many of the malls, especially Ayala, near IT Park, now attract many tourists. Many museums are centrally located, also, and are often historic. The Chinese still run many of the businesses, though, and scam centers, too, as the recent news reports can verify. Whether their connections are to mainland China or diaspora networks in Singapore, Malaysia, and Thailand, I don’t know. But since the main Chinese dialect here is Hokkien aka Fukien, that points to a shared history with the diaspora, more than the modern mainland putonghua language and CCP politics. I’ve never explored Taoist temples, though, before, so that’s new for me here, and they look like something so Chinese-y that it’s almost hard to believe I’ve really never been aware of them. And there are others besides the main tourist attraction in Lahug. There are also some Chinese Buddhist temples, also, and by comparison they look much more conservative, with fewer dragons and more dharma, I guess. I’d say Taoism is to Chinese Buddhism what Hinduism is to Vajrayana Buddhism, though that might be an over-generalization. Theravada Buddhism is ancestral to both. One of the main tourist attractions now, though, is TOPS, the recently remodeled literal high point of the city, which ‘tops out’ (pun intended) at about 600 meters, above sea level, or 2000 feet, depending on which language you speak. Promoted now as ‘the Circle’, this was forever the place to bring your hot date for romantic views of the city and normal life far below, while making whoopie far above the fray. Now it’s been heavily rebuilt and promoted as 'the Circle’, something of a sky mall, or at least the food court portion thereof. So, for a couple bucks USD per head, you can have your choice of luscious lumps and libidinous libations while looking down at the city any time of the day. The only problem, of course, is that it’s a long ways up from the city, both time and distance, but mostly time, depending on traffic. Because, depending on where you leave from, it may only be 5mi/8km, but that’s at least a half hour as the crow flies, and possible much more, not to mention a hefty taxi charge for the privilege. Cheap shuttles are available from IT Park if you’re a legit tourist, not a midnight rambler. That’s as far as many tourists will get, anyway, since it’s more central and typical for the average tourist in that neighborhood. And if it sounds like a high-tech business park, well, it is that, sort of kind of almost maybe. I’m pretty sure IBM is there, but I know that Amazon is not, unless you’re talking about the whole neighborhood, not just the block that is technically IT Park. But I think that it’s better known as a neighborhood, and the most-traveled strip there would probably be Ayala Mall, either the original not so far away from the center, or the Central Bloc, which forms something of a continuum with IT Park as the inner mall portion of which IT Park is the outer walk. Now, I know what you’re thinking: a mall? Really? That’s what you’re recommending as a tourist sight to see? To which the answer is no, not me. But for others, yes, absolutely. Now, I won’t call any names, but another vlogger, showcased exactly this, and TOPS, and nothing else, as the places to see in Cebu. WTF? Why? Well, for one thing, it IS a bit hot and sweaty almost any time of the day or night, true, so some fresh cool air IS nice. But, I think the main attraction of the uptown neighborhood and the malls, of which there are quite a few, is the chance to forget that the Philippines has a level of poverty that you won’t find in Thailand or Malaysia, and probably not even Myanmar or Kampuchea. And, while the reasons for this are endlessly debated, the result is the same: it ain’t pretty. So, rather than try to solve the problem, which might take years, if not decades, sometimes it’s easier to just escape it. I suspect that’s why some of the nicest malls are in the poorest countries now, while many wealthy countries have largely abandoned the concept. This would seem to be a relatively new role for the Philippines, also, which not so long ago was one of the brighter spots of a once-bleak SE Asian landscape. Some of the loudest critics blame the colonizers and the corruption while avoiding the birthrate which rivals that of Africa on even a good day. This is a very Catholic country, and large families are traditional. They were in Thailand, also, until the government started offering free hysterectomies. China’s problem is now under-population, not over. Still, it somewhat defines the Philippines now, and it is worthwhile to explore a little bit, if not more. Because many of these are people of fine disposition, even if their circumstances are a bit challenging. They seem to be at a crossroads that many countries already passed by years, if not decades, ago. But that doesn’t mean that they are worth any less, only that they have challenges to face. If escape is one way to face it, it’s also one way to deal with it, directly. So, many Filipinos migrate out-of-country to support their extended families, while foregoing the larger questions of how to avoid repeating this cycle endlessly. That is happening, though, little by little, as birth rates gradually come down, and women consider options for themselves besides the traditional choices, of motherhood, maid, or mama-san. These things take time. But their lives are not wretched. Even in the most basic of neighborhoods, they manage to maintain some dignity and decorum, while struggling to scrape by financially. There are always others doing worse, and many mothers with children spend their nights on the street. Most men could care less. These things take time. If you like this content, please like and subscribe, and I will really appreciate it. I hope to continue my Filipino travel blogs for a month or two and I also do some old travels on hypertravel with Hardie, on the same channel. C U there. Thanks.

Hypertravel with Hardie #7: Welcome to East Africa

Welcome to the latest, and seventh, episode of my Hypertravel with Hardie video series, here on YouTube, about all the trips I’ve taken in the last twenty years or so. This trip to East Africa just so happens to perfectly coincide with Chapter Seven of my original Hypertravel book, which I published in 2012, so I’m glad that’s convenient if you’re following along. This came only a few weeks after my Mideast trip, so that’s still in my heart and in my head, with only the Rose Bowl Parade and my girlfriend’s face to define the space between. I could’ve just stayed in London for that interim period, but that’s a decision I had to make. Africa is a bit of a tough nut to crack, after all, so any extra time and space to rest up and catch my breath is more than welcome. Often that happens in TJ, Mexico, actually, even though my wife is in LA, California USA. And this trip is no exception to the ‘Africa is broken’ theme. Because, right off the plane, at 07 am, my hostel driver in Nairobi, Kenya, informs me at the airport that the hostel is full, and the rain is falling, and a no-tell motel won’t tell, BUT..;. My driver’s got a place, though, of course, HIS place, conveniemtly located and ready to rock, all at affordable prices. It’s raining. It’s only for 2-3 nights. So I do it, damn the torpedoes. I’ve got a private bedroom, at least, and a kid that loves me, so who cares if I have to shit and shower in the same place. Welcome to Africa, and don’t forget to spread your legs when you flush! They’re all out partying the first night, of course, they flush with newfound wealth, what once was my wealth. I guess I can’t blame them. ‘The chief’, though, that’s his moniker, is nice enough. I just cant’ help the feeling that this is all a set-up. How would he know the hostel is full at 07 am, after all? This was the year 2010. Internet bookings were new. People come and go every day. This was not a weekend. So, it’s suspicious, but what else would i do? Hire a taxi to the original place? It was raining. At least The Chief took me out to his village, so that was nice. I skipped the parties. This requires full atention. But i got my onward ticket the first day, and assured him that i’d be back. That’ll work. Next stop is Uganda, Kampala by night bus. So, we do the border formalities between the two countries by candle light. Nice. From there it’s only a short hop into the city. And it’s pretty nice there, nicer than most. If I’d known that when I was there, I might’ve stayed longer. I’ve given up on hostel bookings in Africa, though, so I’m going old school again. No, not Lonely planet, older than that. I mean looking around the bus station, as long as it’s central, and finding a nice cheap place there. It works. That’s what i wuold do in the 70’s, long before Lonely Planet. But Kampala reminds me a bit of the old Deep South in the US, the nice part. Kigali, Rwanda, should be so nice. The night ride to there is interesting, especially Mbarara partying all night, but the Customs by canlelight is getting old. It gets worse. If Rwanda is cool and aloof, then, Burundi is downright racist, with calls of ‘Muzungu’ following me around like a bad smell. The views are good, though, these the mountain provinces of the continent. They had a war, of course, rival Tutsis and Hutus, so those feelings may still be a bit hard around the edges. But the strangest thing is the plastic bag policy in Rwanda, which will literally confiscate your plastic ones, and charge you to replace them with paper ones. The cost of an infraction is fifty bucks USD. Ouch. From there I buy a ticket to Dar es Salaam in Tanzania. Otherwise, it’s an even longer drive to Malawi, so that’ll come later. There’s only one problem: Tanzania doesn’t allow bus travel at night. There are workarounds, though, or maybe runarounds, better said. Dar es Salaam is nice, enough, too, but hot hot hot. It’s a long run to Lilongwe, Malawi, too, a long frieght run, since the whole bus is packed to the gills with goods. That means long waits at the border crossings, of course, which consumed almost a whole day. The re-pack is even worse, so we’re soon a rolling time bomb. I finally find a backpacker hostel, though, South African tent-camp style, so that’s cool. I always liked it when backpackers were once campers, complete with sleeping bag. But it’s basically pretty boring. Mbeya is better, a crossroads town in southern Tanzania, but only if you like clockwork. Muslims apprently do, along with cats and other fetishes. But here all the mosques are chock full of clocks! So, I catch the ferry to Zanzibar, just in time for the Sauti za Busara music festival. And it’s good, but there’s a problem. The power is off all day. Welcome to Pakistan. Welcome to Nepal. Welcome to that cheap-ass room down the hall. Some people work during the day. Digital nomads do it at home, wherever home happens to be. Prices are twice as high as Dar es Salaam, too. So, I go back and then head north to Kilimanjaro, the most famous mountain in Africa. Arusha is the access point, and it’s pretty nice, too, cooler if not cold, and backpacker central in this part of Africa. It’s a bone-jarring affair from there back to Nairobi, though, but that’s the deal, so I find my own place there this time around and report my previous hostel hijacker ASAP, upon departure. The circle is now complete. Stockhom Syndrome? Ha. No way, Jose’. The flight to Madagascar is rainy but nice, as is Antananarivo itself, the capital city. It may not rival San’aa, Yemen, for beauty, but it comes close. And San’aa has since been largely destroyed, too. These are original Asians, we know, from Indonesia’s islands, so one of the major mysteries of world history. There are others of similar bent. But the interesting thing is that they still occupy the highlands while relegating the lowlands to Africans, not only maintaining a distinct look, but also distinct habits, like rice and noodles. Count me in. They also have dual currency, so that’s fun, constantly doing math in the head. But the Big Thrill in Madagascar comes at the very end; hundreds of joggers on the road to the airport at 04 am. Somehow i feel totally vindicated–about everything. Comoros should take lessons. I don’t know if all French colonies are jerks, or what, but these guys have an attitude, just like Djibouti or Tahiti or Cannes. But it’s okay for a few days, adn then I’m back to madagascar, ready to see some new terrain. But my body won/t allow it. I’ve got a case of gout that will barely let me walk, and certainly not travel. So, I just get homey and cozy and resigned to the signs, the signs of age and physical decay that plague us the boomers and boners and never-go-homers that populate the farther reaches of civilization. There’s no rest for the wicked, though. When money disappears out of my pocket, i trace it back to a collection of kids crowding a thoroughfare to make things tight and then slipping and sliding fingers when the timing is right. It works every time, twenty-five bucks for the little yippers and yappers. Then I realize that this is my 121st country. That’s 11 squared. Did you know that the difference between squared numbers increases by two each time, so that you can could by odd numbers between them? If the squares are 4, 9,16, 25, 36, etc, then the numbers between them are 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, etc. There’s always something to celebrate. This trip is over, just back to LA via London, same ol same ol. I hope you liked the story and the video. It’s all true. So please like and subscribe if you did. I’d really appreciate it. Next week we’ll go to the South Pacific, see you there.

Hypertravel with Hardie #6: UK and North Europe

Welcome to the Sixth episode of my Hypertravel with Hardie video series here and on YouTube. This episode corresponds most closely with Chapter 8 of the original Hypertrvel book, that inspired and defines these videos, but we’re slowly drifting away from that model. So this episode begins with Chapter 4, which also closely corresponds to Episode 4. Got it? I doubt it, because the book depicted an actual travel narrative, while these video are more encyclopedic, in an effort to facilitate travel by any others interested in ‘seeing it all’ methodically. Because, whether you cross every border or not, to see 150 or more countries in your lifetime will take some effort and coordination. This series shows how I went about it methodically, and hopefully can be a guide to others, eventually on VR, Virtual Reality. This is all backpack-style traveling, too, so anyone can do it. I did it all alone, with no guides or special skills, and at costs that would be no more than the typical US apartment in the typical US city. This trip will concentrate mostly on North Europe, first in June 2009 and then again in April 2010. Are you ready? Let’s go! It’s sometimes fun to mix and match regions if the timing is convenient, so after my previous trip to the Horn of Africa and the Caucasus, I continued to Scandinavia, where I’d never been, up until then. It’s generally expensive, so a bit antithetical to the concept of backpack travel, but still rewarding nonetheless. Budget flights are good for that. So, I flew in from Istanbul to Stockholm late at night and then made my way to a place called the Boatel? Can you guess the rest? Yes, it floats. Which was all very cool, and so was Stockholm, but the place fills up on weekends, so I was off quickly to Goteborg (Gothenburg) to bide some time. My digital nomad inclinations were given a boost there, too, since it’s all remote and digital, even e-tickets for the Eurolines bus long before China and its fans started bragging about WeChat and Alipay and the QR code of life fulfillment. So, what if the cashless country used credit cards to beat China by a decade? If the average Chinese person had any credit, then they’d be using them, too. Sweden even prohibits smoking. Try that in China. Bhutan is better. Drinking Is ubiquitous. Look it up. Copenhagen, Denmark is cool, too, if you can afford it, Tivoli Gardens and all, kinda like Disneyland for semi-adults. At least you can walk to it. Oslo, Norway, is also okay, but I’d really like to head up the peninsula to see more, so this is just the warm-up. Everybody speaks English, it seems. But it’s pricey, so I beat a hasty retreat to Helsinki by night flight, and dig in a bit more there, with its cheaper digs and all. They have Euros, too, so that’s a convenient way to spend money, and with many street markets there, also. They even have reindeer burgers! But they don’t have an Indo-European language, so any further involvement would be challenging. They’ve got a close cousin across the way, though, that’s Estonia, so that’s my next stop, arrival there by ferry to the cute capital Tallinn. The proximity to Russia seems to be calling me, though, so I make a mental note of that for future reference. They even have gingerbread houses and the munchies to match, any hour of the day, so that’s not a bad way to play, if your budget can handle it. I finally took a bus straight through Riga and Vilnius, Latvia and Lithuania, on to Warsaw, Poland. It’s defined by its contradictions, but I’ll be back. This trip got re-ignited almost a year later, with Russia as the locus. I’d already been to Ukraine by that point, so the north was now the focus, even crossing tracks with some of the previous trip some nine months before. This segment even envisioned a continuing trip to west Africa, but that had some surprises, to be mentioned later. But Russia was the juggernaut, Russia and Moscow, especially, complete with $400 visa charge, which I did in LA, and which included LOI, Letter of Invitation, old-fashioned visa BS. West Africa was a pain, too, visas necessaary for every tiny country, but that’s another story, almost. The high charge for Russia is worth it, maybe, if you are taking the Orient Express to Mongolia and China, but I had no intention of that, though details were left flexible. I only knew that I’d be visiting Moscow and St. Petersburg, and possibly more, with Belarus as dessert, if at all possible. But almost all of these trips include London, either as stopover or connection, even if seldom worth the mention. But this time would be the exception. A half day in LHR at the beginning seemed to confirm that, almost ominous. Even more ominous would be the female suicide bombers on the Moscow subway on March 29, 2010, the same day that I would later saunter in, this only a few months after the Yemen-based Christmas Bomber shot his wad on a flight from Amsterdam to Detroit. But those two Muslim girls in Moscow killed 38 at two separate stations during rush hour, apparently for the Islamic cause in the Caucasus. So, I come strolling in later the same day with no Russian lingo, and no English to be found, hardly. But I knew some Cyrillic alphabet by then, so that helps, since many of the words are the same in their Greek and our Latin etymologies. It’s 2010, though, and Russia was still Communist in many ways, bureaucratic BS the least of it, registering anything and everything all the time. So, I’m quickly looking for an exit after the tourist sites of Red Square and St. Basil’s cathedral. I even considered heading straight thru Belarus to Poland, but I ended up in St. Petersburg, instead, a more rational decision. So, I caught the train to St. Pete, and that’s very nice, well worth the wait. The scenery from the train isn’t bad, either, straight from the Old West, it seems, so I feel right at home. The Hermitage Museum downtown is the big deal, though, relics from ancient Russia, the steppe lands, and Asia to boot, kinda like strolling through the pages of history. Mostly, though, modern Russia is ready to rock, and if the rock band Mumiy Troll isn’t enough for you, then ageing classic rockers from the US and UK are ready to fill the bill. This was 2010, remember, before Ukraine in 2014, and Russia waas still opening up to the West, before its current tilt to China. St. Pete is the most western city of Russia, with extensive connections to Europe, so that’s gold for indie travel, and means that I can catch a train stright to Vilnius, Lithuania, the same city I briefly saw on the bus from Tallinn, Estonia to Warsaw, Poland, so this time I plan a few days. It’s nice, too, old-fashioned Baltic, with some nice modern flourishes thrown in, like a statue of Frank Zappa! Cool. I see the Belarus consulate, but they don’t look too encouraging for travel. Ex-KGB headquarters is interesting, though, aka the Genocide Museum, and the National Museum is not bad, either. I walk my little feet off, but things are changing all the time. I need to get back early to London to do my visa for Ghana, so I blow off my Warsaw stay and head straight to the airport from Vilnius. Wizz Air charges for everything, so I’m wearing half my luggage with the rest stuffed i my pockets as I board the plane to London. The visa will take a few days, so I now have time to kill and that means Scotland, specifically Loch Ness, since I’d already done Stonehenge the year before, almost lost a bag there, even, so this is good timing. I even hung out in London then, for a film festival and music, so time to revisit the north, which I aborted only a few years before. This was my UK decade, after all, after I almost settled into some business there, based in Hounslow, which I ultimately gave up. The north country is nice, though, Inverness included, pub central. Then the volcano in iceland erupted and the drifting ash is closing airports all over, including London. So, my passport is ready, but the skies are not. So, this is now a UK trip, and thousands of travelers are stuck. I catch a bus to Belfast, though, and take it from there. No one’s going there, except me. And it’s not Dublin, but it’s not bad. I even got to see London Derry, too, on my hostel’s free tour. I’m a confirmed hostel guy by now, for the wifi, if nothing else, but the low prices and travel vibe are nice, too. There was no 5G then, remember, just laptops in the transition from desktops to smart phones, so right up my alley, writer’s alley, camera optional. Finally, the skies clear, and that means I need to re-book my Air Afriqiyah flight from London via Libya to Ghana. Yep, that’s correct. And Ghana’s okay, but Burkina Faso is not, through no fault of its own, my laptop broken into squiggles and giggles just at the thought of my half-baked travel narratives. I can’t travel a month without my laptop. This trip is over. Africa bites the dust, once again, just like my kidney stones in Mali two years ago, thieves in South Africa last year, and now this. If you like the content, please like and subscribe. We’ll have a successful trip to Africa next time, I promise. Bye now.

Hypertravel with Hardie #5: the Mideast

Hi ya’ll, welcome to the fith episode of Hypertravel with Hardie here on YouTube. Actually our fifth episode here was really the sixth episode in the original Hypertravel book, but mostly left out here because of the misfortune I encountered in South Africa, being robbed in broad daylight on the streets of Nelspruit, South Africa, not Jo’burg, but a bucolic smaller city, leafy and green until the streets turned mean and left me standing there with not much to spare but my self-interest and my self-preservation instincts, forcing me to return to Jo’Burg for a temporary passport, but no camera, unfortunately. So, I finished my trip with only a 3-month passport, including all of southern Africa, including Zambia, Namibia, Botswana, Lesotho, Swaziland and Mozambique. I even continued to East Europe to make my rounds there, which I dutifully wrote up, but without a camera to document the digs. Ukraine was nice; I remember that much, that slice of a little southwest corner, featuring Lviv, that was the northeastern culmination of my southeastern foray that included Romania, Moldova, and now Ukraine, even Poland. Before it’s all over, I’ll also visit my one-hundredth country Andorra on this trip, but the more important thing is to hustle a quickie passport ASAP back in LA, and that’s possible if you’ve got a trip planned. So, I told them I was going to Mexico. They bought it. So August and September weren’t too good, but October 2009 is looking up. C U down the road. I always stay in Mexico during my interim travel. Maybe I’ll write more on this for another East Europe episode, if I can find some pictures. But this episode is mostly about the Mideast. So, that means a nice return to the one-region/one trip format. But it’ll still be hub-and-spoke with Cairo at the center, not point-to-point like the good ole USA or something similar. No, this is the Mideast, not the Midwest, and I’m lucky to even have good travel conditions considering the shit that’s gone down since. Almost as if by design, there’s a screw-up in Cairo with two competing hotels, but there was a happy ending, and good wifi, so no real problem. The main problem are the multifarious travel options in a tricky region, so that takes up more time than the pyramids for the first few days. But wifi is much easier, and cheaper than travel agents, so it all eventually works out. The pyramids at Giza are incredible, of course, Sphinx and all that, and the Cairo Film Festival is like icing on the cake. The current plan is to take a cheap flight to Lebanon, and then proceed from there, so that’s what I do. Beirut isn’t especially cheap, so somehow I end up in the Christian suburbs, not downtown, where I usually like to be, depending on prices. That means TV porn and Alcohol to boot, neither of which I crave, but that’s okay. Part of the deal is that I can hopefully get a Syrian visa at the land border with a bus from Beirut, so that’s what I do. It costs me hours at the border and a shout-down from the ICE man, but I get onward trans to Damascus, and arrive before dark. Hey, the apostle Paul was blinded on the same road, so I should feel lucky! At least I’ve got decent digs in Damascus, so I’ll see more there than Beirut. It’s old-fashioned, if not Biblical, but fine for the walking, so I even stay another day due to the runs in my buns. Next stop will be a taxi drive to Amman, Jordan, and that comes off withoiut a hitch. Amman, Jordan, is middle-class, neither rich nor poor, so no big deal. The big deal are the ruins of Petra down the road, made famous by Indian Jones, I believe, and well worth the waiting to get there. It’s csrved, BTW, not constructed. From there it’s back to Egypt, by a different route, of course, no return to Beirut necessary, when a ferry ride to southern Egypt will do fine, thank you. That means a ride from Aqaba to Nuweiba, and an option to chill at Dahab, groover central, time permitting. But I passed on by, like a ship in the night, on to Cairo after midnight. From there I’ll go south to Luxor, which is something of a revelation in itself. That’s because of the massive temple columns, a hyperbole to the Greek version, but these came first, so an alternative to the pyramids, and a fashion forward to the future. The Greeks would refine them to architectural perfection, but the Egyptian version were the original. Combine them with arches and you’ve got something truly revolutionary, castles floating in the air! Or so, it might seem. The ruins of Karnak are nearby and the ancient site of Thebes is beneath and underneath, making modern Luxor something truly exotic, what with the Nile River flowing nearby. It’s a chill deal compared to Cairo, too, so worth the ride for the extensive look. The trip gets more complicated now, and that means a cheapo flight to Yemen, San’aa to be exact. This is the icing on the Arabian cake, of course, as timeless as it is timely. The traditional architecture is unbelievable and the traditional people are similarly fashioned. That means daggers, dirhams, and of course the imminently chewable qat. It also means that I got totally lost my first night, wandering the meandering streets without counting my turns carefully enough, dead reckoning, so finally getting totally lost in the darkness. That’s what taxi cabs are for, of course, and business cards, too, if the hotel has them and the counter help is not too busy chewing qat to help find them. Life is far from perfect, no matter the country or religion, but where there is a will, there’s a way, in lieu of any better cliche’, so when the taxi crossed a path that I’d already crossed earier in the day, I yell at him to stop, and i walk it home from there, landmarks succeeding where street names and numbers often fail, business card or not. Yemen is my new travel hub and the next stops are Doha, Qatar, and Dubai, UAE. Doha is flooded, but that will soon pass, and so will the traditional old quarter that almost resembles San’aa, as the new Miracle Mile springs up along the other side of the bay. It looks impressive, but it’s empty, all just speculation as to what the neighborhood is really worth, as the traditional Arabia gives way to the newer more modern model. The only people there are construction workers, so conclusions must wait. This is all ‘old hat’ to Dubai, of course, long accustomed to such speculations and re-workings of old metaphors. UAE is hardly even arabian any more, really, unless you’re counting coups on the soles of old shoes. Because most of the inhabitants are foreigners, now, and more than a few of them Filipino, fleeing their own population boom and income bust, ditto for the Russians and other assorted Slavic country citizens. English is the lingua franca and dollars can easily pass for dirhams. Oman is right down the road and something of an anomaly of its own design. It’s an old sailing port of ancient renown, but left out of the more modern oil-rich money that passes for mideast currency. So, it’s not as poor and traditional as Yemen, but not so rich and modern as UAE. It’s even accessible by bus from Dubai, so something of a walk in the park that is the Arabian peninsula. The Muscat souq has the traditional frankincense and myrrh, even if the malls lack the latest fashion that make the models twirl on runways. But I’m good there for a few days. And the Iranian island of Kish is right across the bay from Dubai , so I go there to stay a few days, also, and let the resident Filipinos fill me in on the scene. It’s enlightening, of course, even more so since it’s the only way I could get into Iran without a guide or visa, and cheap as dirt if I stay with the visa runners. They’re all waiting for their visas, and the local TV station updates them every day, many here longer than a month already, biding their not-so-precious time, as long as their in-laws back home know how to manage their money. That’s the scoop, my friends, I now older but wiser, as the axe would soon fall on all that is Arabia, like chessmen on a chess board, first Tunisia, and then all the rest, finally Syria just a while ago, I forget when, since it’s all so confusing and disheartening, usually, but sometimes good. 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