Welcome to the Untitled Project, by Roger Bymolt

Iguana Park

For a day we were in the middle of the world and I was the center of attention. I had my 28th birthday on the equator in Ecuador! To think that for the past 5 years I have had my birthday in 5 different countries…Wow!

We headed into the port city of Guayaquil early Sunday morning and walked the new waterfront promenade known as Malecon 2000. Friends spontaneously jumped out from behind corners and sung ‘happy birthday!’ just so I couldn’t forget all day. No one was keen to eat Iguana empanadas but we all wanted to see iguanas. A few blocks away in Park Bolivar, we were astounded to see 20 or 30 big’ins roaming the park without cages, being fed, drinking from ponds, climbing trees and basking in the sun. Very cool. More »

Tattooed tribeswoman selling woven bowls

Rough seas delayed our passage down to Colon, Panama. Colon’s reputation for crime and muggings is infamous, driven by high unemployment, poverty and the easy pickings in a port city. Though no longer as dire as it used to be, we were barred from walking outside the port area. So, what to do? There was the option of taxiing to the Zona Libre, the world’s second largest tax free ‘island’ where the multinationals and banks of the world have a presence inside 4 metre high security walls. (By the looks of it, very little of that wealth ever reaches the city outside those walls.) We could’ve stayed confined in the port shopping centre, or hook up a taxi tour and head out for the afternoon. Phil, Gabi, Julia and I were the only ones game. Our drive out to Portobello village an hour away, was well worth it. More »

Coro Cathedral

Two days after Cuba we arrived in Puerto Guaranao, Venezuala. Around the start of the voyage this port of call was changed from Maracaibo because, I heard, this area is more pro Chavez and because it suited the organised tours better. From a tourist perspective Guaranai town offered nothing. The shuttle buses were late and then dropped passengers off in a no-mans land at the port entrance at the mercy of extortionist taxi prices. Perhaps unsurprisingly there was a mugging there and so the drop off point was changed. We caught a cab off the road into town and 7 of us piled in. In town Gaby, with her native gift of Spanish, negotiated 2 wide arsed, 1960’s, pimpin American rides for us to Coro, an hour away. We pulled over on the highway and ate our first empanadas (savory, filled thingys). More »

A warm Cuban welcome

Why couldn’t we dock in Santiago de Cuba? Finally, after a 4 hour wait, we had the all clear to enter disembark. Gaby, Adi and I walked up the hill from the port to the Parque Cespedes flanked by colonial architecture. Stalls lined the side streets waiting for Japanese passengers. The beautiful architecture here was in need of a lick of paint. We stumbled onto a cultural performance put on for Japanese passengers, but soon left to find the local cafes and live house scene. We had a beer in a few courtyards and saw 2 live bands in the afternoon. They were good. Really tight. Think Buena Vista Social Club. We met some guys who helped me cut a deal for some cigars on the black market. The price of cigars is regulated for tourists. Tourism is especially good for Cuba’s economy as tourists are obliged to use the special ‘CUC’ currency rather than the local Pesos. The high rate of this ‘tourist’ currency is controlled by the government and this makes it the most expensive country in Latin America for tourists.
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The Acropolis

We’ve been cruisin! A week and half through the Med had us pulling into a new port every other day.

From Kusadasi we arrived in Pireaus the next day. Our little group caught the subway to the Acropolis which was dispairingly being renovated. The Parthenon, the 2500 year old ‘must see’ of Athens, was worthwhile for its sense of history and power and for the amazing dominating views it affords, but not really for its present condition. Stu and I spent little time walking the old lanes of Plaqa beneath the Acropolis and instead caught up with some Greek friends of his who drove us around the Aegean coast to a great little seafood restaurant near the temple of Poseidon. The day’s excursions were great and plenty of red wine gave it a nice after glow.
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Turkish Welcome

We dropped anchor at midday in Kusadasi’s beautiful harbour and got off the boat to a welcome from a Turkish band. At first my best laid plans didn’t go so well… we were a big group with too many chiefs and not enough Indians. So I teamed up with Steve, Ai and Akiko and together we made the most of Kusadasi. We climbed the hill where a statue of Ataturk overlooks the harbour and we were joined by some kids who wanted to play guide. They led us down to the causeway that connects to Pigeon Island and its small fort where we sipped a strong Turkish coffee. Then in latish afternoon we bussed to Ladies Beach and I had our first swims in the Med.
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Human Pyramid

My highlight from Egypt was not the pyramids or the Sphynx. Nor was sitting in a cafe alleyway smoking Shisha and drinking chai surrounded by crumbling colonial style buildings. Those things I had enjoyed before on my first visit to there 2 years ago. But it was still cool, of course, doing those things again with new friends. We made a human pyramid in front of the pyramids and rattled off snaps like Japanese tourists. Thanks must go to Peace Boat for arranging that tour for us for free. More »

Baqa Camp kids

The Peace Boat docked in Aqaba, Jordan in the early hours of Oct 19th. We cruised up the Red Sea past the dunes of Saudi Arabia, the jagged mountains of Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula, and the bright lights of Eliat, Israel. 2 years ago I spent about 8 days exploring marvels such as Petra, Wadi Rum and Jerash. But on this occasion I was a tanto (leader) for a very different GET challenge to the Baqa Palestinian refugee camp near the capital Amman. Passengers had raised about US$7000 the night before for the camp by auctioning off their talents to each other. A four hour bus drive took us to the camp where we met our home stay family. This was of course a very rare opportunity to meet people in Baqa camp, the largest Palestinian refugee camp in the world, and to learn about their lives, experiences, sufferings, hopes and their dreams. When most people think of a refugee camp they think of rows of tents. But Baqa camp was first established after the 1948 war and had major intakes of refugees after the the 1967 Six Day War with Israel and again after the first Gulf War. Because of this length of time, dwellings have become more permanent and conditions in the camp have improved… at least in comparison to other Palestinian refugee camps in Syria, Lebanon and other friendly Arab states. They are still unhappy, some are desperate. They are still refugees. More »

Drinking a coconut in Kochi

Such an unmistakable smell; we had definitely arrived in Kochi, India. The old black and yellow rickshaws were waiting for us. Passing through that gauntlet of brisling moustaches offering tours and rides brought back my old memories of India. Too bad it was only for a day. We began with a local ferry to the mainland of Ernakulum and sat down for chai and masala dosas at the Indian Coffee House. I checked out some markets, bought an orange dhotti, and sat on the road side drinking a freshly machetied water coconut. The Shiva Temple wasnt quite what I remembered it and the smell of raw sewerage down that part of town bought back more memories. More »

Kandahar Street

The Peace Boat docked in Singapore having navigated the pirate infested straits of Malacca. We poured off the boat into an hour long wait at customs. The effiency of the MRT (subway) wasn’t what I’d expected either. (When purchasing a ticket you have to pay an extra dollar deposit which you need to claim back when you get off.) We had only 12 muggy hours in Singapore so a small group of us planned to head uptown to the Arab and Indian towns first. An unintentional detour led us around Midtowns parks and colonial buildings, watched over by towering sharp angled skyscrapers. But in the Arab district the ’scrapers gave way to colouful shuttered buildings and narrow lanes and a food market on Kandahar street. The Indian district was full of (surprise!) Indians. But not only.. the multicultural feeling of Singapore is total. Noone is a foreigner.
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