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Adventure Annoyances 1 - Bad Roads

12/7/2015

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Gaze at the constant stream of romantic overland expedition posts on social media and it’s easy to believe that it’s all exotic sunsets, idyllic camp spots and laughter with locals.

In reality however, it’s not all thrilling and fulfilling- overlanding has more than its fair share of exasperations and frustrations. But surely that’s part of the experience, right? Most days these provocations can be shrugged off, even laughed at, but even with the strongly developed tolerance and patience of an overlander sometimes these few repeating niggles make you want to scream from the roof(tent)tops.

In this short series of blogs I retain the right to rant, expose the things that have left nail marks in the steering wheel and detail our main adventure annoyances, our overlanding irritations. So here is my stage on which to vent. First up, bad roads. Expected? Yes. Tolerated? Mostly…
We’ve experienced some pretty terrible roads on our travels. Just to clarify, we’re not talking about off-road dirt tracks high up into the mountains here, we’re talking about main roads, motorways and city streets.

Russia, Kosovo, Albania, Armenia, Kazakhstan and Tajikistan all have their fair share of ‘bad’ roads often with potholes larger than your car.


Deep chasms are not the only surface danger, due to heavy truck traffic many roads become furrowed, once in a groove your vehicle handles like it is on rails, without a vigilant steering wheel wrestle this can suddenly send you veering towards oncoming traffic.
Travelling in Armenia in your own vehicle is costly, on entry we paid at least £50 for ecology and road tax. Ironically when we left we should have billed Armenia for the damage done to our car for using such terrible roads. I’m not sure where the tax money is going but it certainly isn’t being spent on the roads.

The highway system in Armenia consists of 7,633km of (apparently) paved roads, of which, 1,561km are supposedly expressways; our average speed on Armenia’s M1 was about 28mph.
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One of the worst stretches of urban street we encountered was in Sevan; some of the potholes on the main high street are so large you can see them on Google Earth!
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It is not just the road surfaces that are dangerous in these countries; the lack of road markings, signals and ambiguous road junctions are equally hazardous, as are open drain covers and deep gutters. Other potential dangers include animals, overloaded trucks and clueless pedestrians. In Georgia we narrowly avoided hitting a child, who crossing the road with his mother, ran straight out in front of our vehicle. Fortunately the only physical damage done to him was from the heavy clout round the ear his mother gave him for being so careless.
Georgia’s excessive use of speed bumps is simply annoying. A motorway should never have speed bumps! Especially unmarked speed bumps.

In Western Europe we have a system for using roundabouts, it works because every roundabout employs the same system, you know your place and everybody else knows theirs. In Eastern Europe the system fails as every roundabout operates a different system. Some roundabouts allow vehicles that are approaching to have right-of-way whilst others allow the vehicles on the roundabout to have priority, some even employ both on the same roundabout. Some roundabouts even have traffic lights mid-roundabout whilst others have no road markings at all and are simply a massive city square with six lanes of traffic and a fountain in the middle. So, bad roads, the first of my adventure annoyances- the logistical network allowing me to traverse this wonderful planet, but at times my reason for breaking the 6pm G&T rule.
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Balkan Bites

8/2/2015

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Our foraging foray of South-Eastern Europe began as we crossed into Slovenia. In the capital, Ljubljana, we discovered Žlikrofi; beautifully simple little potato dumplings served with a meat sauce. So proud are the Slovenians of these little ravioli ‘hats’ that in 2010 Žlikrofi were the first foodstuff in Slovenia to be awarded a ‘protected geographical status’ to legally safeguard their regional reputation and authenticity (along with the likes of Champagne, Camembert cheese and Melton Mowbray Pork Pies).
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In Slovenia we also had our first flaky bite of what would be a snack staple over the coming weeks- Burek. Fried or baked, these individual pastries were cheap and filling and quickly became a convenient adventure fast-feed at any time of the day. Slovenian Burek were a substantial roll of fatty filo, packed with mystery sweet or savoury filling and folded into a chunky ‘Z’ shape.

In Bosnia, the Börek spirals got so big they became communal, with bakeries selling individual slices of the filo giants from round baking pans. In Sarajevo we also sampled Filovana paprika; peppers stuffed with meat and rice then slow-cooked in an oily, tomato sauce and served with a dollop of sour cream floating on top. Delicious comfort food to warm us on our chilly Sarajevo evening.
In Croatia, the Burek were neater and made from a length of layered filo pastry stuffed with meat, spinach, cheese or potato, then compactly wound into a pin-wheel spiral. At only a few Kuna’s each (about 50p) they filled the stomach without emptying the travel purse. In this region, red capsicum grows abundantly and the locals have turned their favourite produce into much-loved Ajvar, a fine chutney of minced, grilled peppers with olive oil and a touch of chilli. Piled onto just about anything edible, this regional relish became a picnic staple for us, a piquant, addictive addition to jazz up bland cheese and bread.

In Serbia, Bureks were now morphing into a solid ‘communal circle’ of pastry sharing- a hefty ‘pie wheel’ which was generously sliced into wedges of oily loveliness. They dominate bakery windows, with several varieties in massive circular metal dishes. In a small Serbian hill town we pulled over outside a bakery and stood in the street at a wooden bench eating our cheese Burek, attempting to wash the greasiness down with Ayran thick drinking yoghurt. 
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Stranded with a broken car in a bleak town in Kosovo on the second day of Eid we were restricted to only two take-out eateries which were open. The sustenance of speed here was more dough-based and we were faced with a whole array of stodgy rolls, each one topped or stuffed with a similar white, salty, bland soft cheese similar to ricotta. 

It was in Bosnia that we had our first taste of the famed Ćevapi, a fast food legend we began hearing mouth-watering whispers about back in Croatia. Stopping at a roadside café, a huge grill smoking away, the waitress delivered two heaving plates of these cylindrical minced beef kebabs. Covered with a huge Somum flatbread soaked in the BBQ juices, these delicious meat tubes are bursting with flavour and need only to be served simply with chopped onion and Kajmak sour cream.

The Montenegrins were not fussed with precise spiralling and left their Burek in the earlier straight pastry ‘pipe’ form. Our Albanian Byrek experience was more refined with the spinach pastries cut neatly into squares and a sweet variety of apples introduced. In the historical Ottoman town of Girokaster we sampled Qifqi, a local speciality of the town. Lovingly hand-crafted compact balls of rice and egg, flavoured with fresh herbs and mint, they offered a delicate alternative to our routine stodgy snacks.
… and then there was Gyros! A bargainous perfection of fast food in Greece, technically covering all main food groups; protein, carbohydrate, dairy, vegetables (tenuously) and fruit (tomatoes are officially fruit, right?). The round flatbread is deftly halved and briefly toasted on the hot grill, then lathered with Tsatziki, yoghurt and cucumber. Fresh tomatoes, lettuce and chips are piled on top. Succulent marinated chicken is expertly carved from a rotating spit and swiftly delivered on top of its awaiting accompaniments. The bread is wrapped tightly inside a napkin and delivered into your expectant hand in minutes. A fistful of delicious. 

And what about something sweet? Ice-cream. Everywhere. From Slovenia to Greece, winding all the way through Southern Europe’s cities, towns and villages, the ubiquitous Sladoled shop proudly displays its chilled counters full of frozen delights on every Balkan street. Tubs were a work of art, piled high with a creative display of their ingredients. Flavours spanned from the standard chocolate, strawberry and vanilla to the adventurous hazelnut, Kiwi and Tiramisu through to the crazy Hello Kitty, Red bull and blue Facebook flavour?!? 
Our tasting travels of the Balkans; unlikely to want to eat pastry for a while again but overall a unique culinary experience of the regions cheap eats. Who needs fine dining and fancy restaurants when the real specialities of new countries are found in stalls, takeaways, markets and roadside cafes.
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Monks and Military

21/1/2015

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Two worlds of war and peace are forced together in Western Kosovo where a 700-year old Serbian Orthodox Christian monastery quietly nestles amongst chestnut groves in a mountain valley. The approaching road displays evidence that racial tensions still exist here- Serbian Latin writing on every road sign has been scrawled over with paint. We were heading for Deçan not Dečani. This was the first religious site we have visited where we had to drive through checkpoints, around roadblocks and submit our passports to gun-wielding military before entering.

Visoki Decani Monastery has been described as "the largest and best-preserved medieval church in the entire Balkans" with several thousand Byzantine frescoes adorning the interior walls. The paintings took 6 groups of artists ten years to complete and cover an area of 4,000m2.

25 monks live within its heavily guarded walls, although the last direct attack was grenades in 2007, the threat of ethnic violence remains.
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We stopped off in the monastery shop, the cheerful sales assistant monk, Damaskin, informing us that at one time they received many busloads of visitors every weekend but now he can go days without a single visitor. He cheerfully added that he didn’t mind, he was still happy in his work. We bought goat’s cheese and goat milk soap, produced along with painted icons and woodcarvings by the monks themselves.

The grounds were immaculate; neat lawns surrounding the centrepiece Cathedral constructed from pale purple and yellow marble blocks. Monastical buildings encircled the impeccable church alongside Chestnut trees and stone graves.

A welcoming monk greeted us as we peered outside the monastery doors, eager to show us inside. Our impromptu guide Petar opened the heavy wooden doors and escorted us into the Romanesque building.
I have never seen Andy’s jaw drop as it did as we entered the church, stepping across the original marble floor at the foot of angular, stone columns.  The frescoes greet you like a window from the past, where several thousand Byzantine paintings depicting 1,000 portraits of Saints stare silently from all sides. Their intricate, colourful detail cover almost the entire interior of the church. Uniquely, the religious depictions include the only existing image of Jesus with a sword, Petar clarified “this is a spiritual sword, representing the Word of God, in which the sword is cutting sins”.
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Nearby, on the ‘Crucifixion’ fresco we noticed what many people believe to be two UFO’s with men inside. “Not so” Petar smiled “in Byzantine iconography, these two ’comets’ represent the sun and the moon, and a man inside is the personification of the heavenly body of the sun and moon”
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We felt incredibly privileged to have such a personal, knowledgeable insight. “Can you identify all of the frescoes inside here?” I asked him “After 13 years… almost” he replied humbly.

The Monastery was established in 1327 under the instruction of Serbian Medieval King St. Stephen of Decani. The monastery is both his life’s work and his mausoleum; his 684 year-old body remains in a coffin at the head of the altar. Petar informed us that 10 years after his funeral, the body of St Stephen was found intact in his grave, perfectly preserved and undecomposed, with a sweet smell which exists until today. “We do nothing to preserve the body, it is forbidden in the Orthodox Church to do anything with a human body after death- we don’t even know any technique to do it! We have no interest to preserve the body, because this is not an important factor when considering someone as Holy”. Petar explained “The body is still whole and fragrant, even when constantly exposed to air and kissing. We believe this is because God’s energies are still present in it.”

Every Thursday, the coffin is opened to allow worshippers to show respect, say prayers and offer Thanks to St Stephen. Petar invited us to join them for this service in 5 days but, with people awaiting our arrival in Montenegro, we regrettably declined the offer. We were however, fortunate enough to accept his invitation to join them for their evening worship.

For the next hour we were completely captivated by black-robed, bearded monks arriving, assembling and beginning their ceremonial tasks. Harmonious chanting gained momentum and volume as more monks joined the dulcet sung words of devoutness. Sat in original 14 Century wooden pews, we were both mesmerised yet honoured to be present at such an amazing atmospheric spectacle. The hauntingly beautiful chanting envelopes you in your own dark, heavy robe of calm. Closing my eyes I could feel both the peace of the place but also the isolation.

The feeling that so much had changed outside of these walls in the last 700 years, yet inside the marble walls the rituals, words and music were untouched by time. The candlelight flickered the walls, making the gold tinged frescoes glimmer- our eyes were seeing exactly what worshipers saw 700 years previously. The heavy smoke swung from incense thuribles. Ceremonial devotion frozen in time.

I asked Petar what he hoped for the future of the Monastery; “We hope it will survive because it is under God’s protection. He has preserved the Monastery during seven centuries under very difficult circumstances. We are determined to stay and live here no matter what happens, trying to have love also with our enemies”.
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