Why ? May be because of the time I spent with that group of expats. Starting again a “normal life” for a short while, a group of friends, a social utility. Yes, to feel useful, I was missing it more and more. It reminds me about this slave who got his freedom after many years. The first thing he did was to spend the money they offered him so he could start again his life by buying gifts to kids in the street. It was his way to feel useful again in this world.

« Every one come back with something after a long trip » said André Brugiroux. Me, I come back with myself. I was lost for a while, I don’t when it happened, neither why. I just stopped dreaming. And in a certain way, I start to lose my humanity; I almost left the “ideologies of our period”, and whichever there are, to take over me. But now I know, I know who I am.

I quickly explain the concept.

- Sounds great. I am going to visit Romania next week, do you think I could use it too?
- Of course.

Back to my seat. A family speaking arabic.
- Ntouma falestinienne ? (you are palestinien ?)
- Na’am, hnaya mel dakhal Israel. (yes, we are from the inside of Israël)
- Kountou fi Sharm el Sheikh? (You were at Sharm el Sheikh ?)
- Na’am. (Yes)
- Kif tama ? (How was it ?)
- Qouais, ou nta hazizi, mouine ? (Super good, and you my friend, where are you from ?)
- Franca, asil Maghrabi. (From France, and originally from Morocco)
They leave.

Later on a group of youngsters dressed with shorts, Nikes and two of them are not wearing their shirts. It seems to me kind of french attitude…
- Alors qu’est-ce qu’on fou ? (so, what the fuck do we do ?)
- On prend l’taxos et on pécho un hôtel dans lcentre pour ce soir. (we jump in a cab and go to a hotel in the center for tonight)
- T’es ouf, trop reuch le plan. On bouge direct à Tel-Aviv. (you are crazy, to expensive your plan. We go straight to Tel-Aviv.)
- Ouai je te connais, tu veux pas payer c’est ca. C’est encore moi qui va finir par tout banquer pour toi… (Yes, I know you bastard. You don’t want to pay. It’s me again who is gonna a fucking pay for you…)

A father arrives with his son, the both speak French too:
- Je te dis qu’il faut appeler maman après et pas avant, alors attend un peu. (I told you, we need to call your mother after and not before.)
- Excusez-moi, vous savez combien de temps il faut d’ici jusqu’à Jérusalem ? (Excuse me, do you know long to get from here to Jerusalem ?)
- Oh au moins 4 ou 5 heures. Et ici les kilomètres sont à rallonge. (Oh, at least 4 or 5 hours. The kilometers are stretched here!)
- Mais papa, viens on appel maintenant… (hey dad, let’s call now…)

I am called again to the office. This time it’s for a body search. First time in those last three years I have to get naked at a border. Well, since they got very scared when they saw my two afghan visas, the one for Yemen and the one for Sudan… My bag is searched again, and this time every object it contains is passed under the X rays. Once the whole thing finished, I am surprised when the officer apologize and propose to help me to pack my bag.

It’s passed 22h, 4 hours in total, « Welcome to Israel !».

Two persons before me. Her we go it’s my turn, like the other foreign tourists I hand a 50 pound note. The clerk refuse it :”tnienne ginee, tnienne” (two pound, two). I don’t understand and hand my note again.
-”Nta, mouine?” (where are you from ?)
-”L’maghreb” (Morocco)
-Tnienne ginee (2 pounds)
So I give two pound instead of 50.

Few meters from there, at the main door :
- Jawaz (passport)
- Ma fi, fi lfunduk (I don’t have it here, left it at the hotel)
- Lazaem tkhalas 50 ginee. (so you have pay 50 pound)
- Ana mel maghreb (I am from Morocco)
And I start a monologue in morrocan arabic dialect mixed with berbere language. Very quickly :
- Ma fi muchkila, doukhoul (ok, no problem, enter)

At least some positive discrimination …

Here we go, it’s been a while I didn’t post a video :

Here in Yemen, it seems to me time stopped. Apart the Khat, green leaves chewed all the time by the locals, I don’t think this society changed a lot since the first horsemen were sent to North Africa. As much architecturally as socially this country seems to me to remain an open air museum.

Receptionist at the Yemen embassy. He is from Kerala and he is working in Oman since 7 years. He is happy to hear me talking about his region. A Yemeni is also waiting. He is Bedouin so forget about good manners and things like that. Every two minutes he sends the receptionist to check out the office of the consul. Each time he looks smiling, he is enjoying his game. The receptionist, between one of his numerous “go and come”, tells me “it’s not a life”. His wage is barely better than in his country, he is fed-up. The Yemeni cuts him even though his was just starting to talk: « ‘eina l’hamam » (where are the toilets?). The receptionist shows the way to him long-sufferingly. « Living far from my family, it’s not living ». His eyes are getting red. The Yemeni comes back still very impatient. He sends him to the consul office again. Later the consul receives me. “You went to Afghanistan two times?”. I explain everything, the world trip and Ibn Battuta as an example. “So you are rich?”. The Yemenis!

Jordanian and his family is originally from Palestine, He is teacher at Sur, a city in the Oman littoral. We are waiting together for the taxi to be full. He is leading a real interrogatory. Morocco, France, world trip, my finances, my job, my family, etc… Since it makes me practice the language and his accent is not too difficult to understand I reply to his questions for a little while. I show to him my world map, he shows me Mauretania sure it is Morocco. Then he explains to me we should give the independence to the Sahara and the monarchy is out of date (a Lebanese stated the same topic one week ago in Dubai). Later: “you are going to Sur, why… to visit a friend… a girl? A couple, are you sure it’s not a girl… come on…”. I give up. He keeps talking: “did you go to the massage salons? For sure you know that, Moroccan girls, your girls guy!”. The anger gets on my super quickly. I stop him and show him my world map again and tell to him: ” you know I will go to visit this country”. I show Palestine to him. “It’s Israel, isn’t it? Yes, yes for us in morocco all is Israel, I am sure…”. The Jordanians!

To have an arabic origin in arabia, as far as it could be, make of you everything but a traveler or a guest who need some special welcoming! However, the rest of the trip was quite good, the oman people are pearls of hospitality. And one thing I wouldn’t expected, I got a lift from a guy from Saoudi Arabia till the Yemen. He didn’t let me go only after inviting me many times to his place and giving me lot of recommendations, and got sure I didn’t need anything for the rest of my trip!

I got to know this week the Bedouin hospitality. Or at least the new generation of Bedouins. I was on the road try to catch a lift since almost half an hour when a big Mercedes pulled over. Two guys with two big turbans in their head and with a quite dark skin. They are not going to the same place but they can take me closer. They are having a very animated discussion that I can’t understand (here they mix Arabic with Swahili and pronounce the “j” like the Egyptians!). Time to time they hold their discussion to ask me a couple of questions about my trip. We stop. A tent, a fan inside, plastic chairs, neon hooked at the top and hot tea. An old guy is grilling some meat outside. The discussion is still very animated. The meat is ready, paid, put in a box and everybody get in the big Mercedes. We pass the place where I had to stop. “Don’t worry, you are our guest”. Few kilometers further, we stop. A carpet is laid in the ground under a tree. Everybody take a place and the meat is shared. A bit later they finally take me to the place I wanted to go, the presumed grave of the prophet Ayub. Then they take me back to the city and drop me at my hotel after filling my bag with the left over and some drinks they bought on the way.

My turn.
- Ma… Masa…
- Hello, passport please.
- Heu… ouaa… yess.
- You come from Kaboul ?
- Heu… yeaaa… yes.
- Tonight France is playing against Holland.
- Heu… ho yes, yes, sure.
- But now, without Zidane I doubt they will make it. Ho man, the period with Zidane was the best.
- Yes…
- Enjoy your trip.
- Sal… sa… bye!

Outside. Need a phone to call the friend who is gonna host me. So in Morocco we would say « fine les téléphones publiques? », no most likely « fine tilifounate? », or even « fine tiliboutique? ». They will never understand that here. Dictionary… Holy shit, here they don’t even say « fine », they say « ‘eina » to ask “where”. Just to make it super easy, in Morocco it’s mean “here”. There are I don’t know how many arabic dialects in the word, and it’s seems we got the worse one…Well and “phone”, this is …« talifoune », at least this is easy. Ok, let’s try. I choose a guy with the traditional cloth of the united arab emirate : « smahli, y akhi, ‘eina talifoune ». « What.. What are looking for ? ».

Well, it seems it’s not here that I am gonna improve my arabic!

At the airport. An old guy followed by a pretty lady looking younger than him. She is Tatar Uzbek, gynecologic and works for NOGs. He is Palestinian, but left his country a long time ago, he is holding an American passport. After a trip hitch-hiking around Europe when his was young, he decided to “make his life become a trip”. Specialized himself in irrigation issues and drinking water will be his solution. Then, since about 30 years now he went around the globe working for different NGOs. “If you come to Kunduz, take here is my address”. His wife: “and if you go to Uzbekistan, you can stay with our son in Tashkent”. Happy, I reply: “If you come to Europe, you are welcome to my place too”. He replies “I go often to Europe. As a good Muslim I have more than one wife, and one of them lives in London. She is quite active in humanitarian organizations. I am quite proud of her.

In a taxi from the border with Tajikistan to Tashkent. She looks old with a Russian style, a big star around the neck and a big suitcase. Normally I would take this kind of transport; I would rather hitch a ride or jump in a bus. But when I saw her at the border, I knew I was going to learn something interesting. She bargained the taxi for us, and here we go. She is physiologist. She is from Ukraine but lives most of the time in Tcheque Republic. She also works for NGOs. She already traveled in more than 60 countries and very proud of that. She won’t stop traveling till she dies. “You know, my name is Alla, it’s a common name is Russia. I worked 5 years in Egypt, also in Iraq and many other Muslim countries. Called Alla and working in Muslim countries, isn’t it original?”. “30 years old! You should stop now and think about getting married now. You know it’s the best period to settle down and have children. You can stop for a while and then travel again. If you want, in Ukraine I have two girls, they are my students, very pretty; they speak good English, serious…”

At the main monument of the city. Young boys and girls students wearing suits are hanging out. It’s the end of the scholar year, so they celebrate by visiting places since parties were forbidden lately by the government. Many of them have a bunch of flower. I am getting ready to get picture of this interesting scene when someone whistle at me. Three cops seating under a tree are waving at me. « Salam ». « Salam » and each one of them shake my hand. They make some space for me to seat. A discussion begins in a broken English: « France… Football… Zidane…. Muslim… ». Until they ask: « We hungry, please help ». « Only 5 somonis for food ». After my refusal, they apologize and « Salam, Salam ».

At Ibrahim’s place. This day it’s a really show of Tadjik hospitality. The starting: cherries, apricots, tomatoes, cucumbers, yogurt and vodka. « Selamati! » (Cheers!). A warm dish arrives. The cognac follows. « Selamati !». A new warm dish. « Selamati !». It’s the end of the lunch. The bottles are well started and the dou’ates (prayers) are said by the group.

Since the end of the war, all the UN agencies that fled the country after a period of big pressure from the Taliban government came back and were join by many NOGs and governmental organizations. So several projects are going on in the country to help for its rebuilding and its economic, social and cultural development. There, I met David, a Danish who settled down here since 6 years. At the end of the war, I said to myself: “the food is gonna come, the money, the education, ect… But what about the entertainment and mostly for kids who were not allowed to any kind of entertainment for a long while. And then naturally came up the idea of a circus. Amin, and afghan who emigrated in the US and main funder: “I met David at a meeting for the first time; he seemed very annoyed and had two of his fingers on his ear and his thumb on his lips. To help him relax I told him: “are you talking to the phone?”. He replied to me: “yes, with God”. We got along together straight away, he explained to me his project, and I funded it.

The circus is called Afghan Mini Mobile Circus (www.AfghanMMCC.org) Here is a short video to present it :

I go back to the type-writers in the street. I go from one to the other, each owner telling me “next one do foreigners”, till I find my happiness for 50Rupees with a old guy dressed perfectly likeindo-pakistani muslims.
The form is fill with indian speed. I completly forget what I was waiting when I handed me the form with it’s 20 lines filled-up.
200 meters futher, French embassy. Huge door which opens on aeven more huge hall gorgeously decorated but empty. The gard take me to a small waiting room. After 20 minutes I already read all the flyers : protect the environment in the world, social security for the expatriates, specialist for moving embassies and businesses in Delhi…

A guy get out of a door a coffee in his hand
- It’s me you are waiting for ?
- I don’t know. I said at the reception that I come for an introduction letterfor the Pakistan embassy, and they sen…
- We don’t do it. We stopped one year ago.
- Heu… for which reason ?
- No idea, it came from the ministery.
- Is there any soluti…
- None. No one will give you that here.
- It’s a weird situation, at the Pakistan embassy I met many other foreigners who got this letter without any problem, and for us french it’s not possible and with no explanation.
- Don’t bother yourself. It’s like that, I can’t help it, and it’s useless to try to meet someone else in the embassy, nobody willmake that for you. By the way, some other french embassies in the countries around will probably help you.

The guy goes to one of his collegues arriving with a coffee too.

The problem I already knew it before to arrive her, but I wanted to realize how stupid the situation is by my self. The Pakistan embassy if the lone embassy in the world to ask for an introduction letter for a a tourist visa application. This letter is a paper that your embassy should give to you confirming the informations of your passport and telling in which country you want to go. It doesn’t make the embassy responsible as it’s not a recommandation letter.
The situation is very weird in the way that from France or from other countries like the guy of the embassy told me it’s possible to get this letter. At Beijing for example, the embassy accepted to give this letter to me. The problem is this letter is valid only in the country where it was delivered according to the pakistanese embassy. So, it’s seems it’s possible to get to pakistan from any country in the world but India. The french embassador in Delhi decided to stopgivingthis letter one year ago. The reason ? Who knows !

Pakistan embassy. Again lining-up. An american touriste. Surprise. Not usual to meet those guys, and even more in those areas. The Daniel Pearl case came to my mind right away, and I can bet that it’s his first visit and he is gonna a know soon he needs this introduction letter and his embassy will never deliver that to him.
- Hey do you know about the introduction letter?
- Ho yeah, I just got it this morning; it was easier than keeping my place in this line…

Worse thatn I thought
My turn :
- Excuse me sir, my embassy doesn’t want to give me that letter, they said they stopped giving it since one year now. Is there any other solution you can recommend?
- No sir, sorry. Next person please.

The next days I will get my visa for Afghanistan without any problem. I am not going to Irak, but it would be just that easy to get a visa for there too…

So the opposite wind sends me to Kaboul this time, this wedneday.

I keep going.
- Sir, where from?
- Africa.
- South Africa?
- No, North.
- Ok, you like see my silk shop…
- Rupee please, rupee.
- Boat sir? Boat?
- Smoking, good smoking…

Not really easy to find someone to talk too and who doesn’t want to sell you anything along the Ganges, unless you are a single girl, but this is another story!

I finally decide to sit down next to this old man who doesn’t look very clean. He is retired from the Indian railways. He is supported by his son, and leave at about one kilometer from here. He’s used to come here to watch the Ganges, its pilgrims and its tourists. He talks me about its palaces built by sultans and kings a long time ago. Some of them became hotels and other ones are just left empty. The mistakes of Gandhi, his visits here at Varanasi.

A guy selling cups of tea passes by, he stops him and order two cups. He hands me one and gets his purse. Only few coins inside, he gives them almost all to the seller refusing categorically my participation.

In this place considered as the most sacred Hindu pilgrim centre, hordes of westerners armed with solid cameras shot at everything. I ask him about that. « If they enjoy it, why not. Everybody has to enjoy something ».

Tea finished, he wishes me a good evening and go back to his home walking uncertainly.

I walk back to my place unable to forget this sentence: « everybody has to enjoy something ». It’s that simple …

For me it’s was very easy. That rich woman who gave me a lift a couple of month ago in the Yunnan province proposed to take me there during one of her business trips. And for sure, it’s not the kind of person the cops would control meticulously. So we crossed almost all the checkpoints without problems. However, I got really scared at the last one before to arrive at Lhasa. I managed to not show my face looking all the time in the opposite direction of the cops or my face hiding behind the tainted windows. The vehicle and driver papers checked. The engine is on. The car is ready to leave when my protector say to the officer: « I hope the road is not too bad, my French friend would like to get there soon…».

A weird discussion starts; I understand what is about without understanding what they are saying. The officer concludes with « Hao le, Hao le, zou, zou ba, zou ba …» (ok, ok, go, go, go …). We leave. Later she explained to me that she said to the officer I am here boyfriend and we will get married soon… later she will tell me she has no business in Lhasa and it’s why she toke me there!

Here a video clip about Tokyo made with the other K.:

Hitch-hiking was quite easy in this country. The lone dificulty was to find the right place to hitch-hike. The highway system is so new and complex here. For example, one day I was walking along a highway going on the direction I wanted to, and suddenly it splitted in six highways, a bridge down, a bridge up, an exit on the left… and the sign indicating some places I didn’t have in my map… horrible ! And in general, the people don’t know about the roads here (not everybody has a car yet, not for so long…). Only the cops always gave me the right information, but this is another problem. Olympic games, or general Chinese policy, every time I asked telling them I wanted to hitch-hike, they didn’t let me go until they got a ride for me (they always drive me till the toll, and hitch-hike for me !!!). Good thing with them is I always get a ride, but most of the time in a truck. So I try to avoid them now.

My hitch-hiking experience here was the most crazy since I started traveling. So far : a rich investor tryed very hard to make me accept a bunch of note of 100 yuan (10euros) to help me keep traveling, a rich woman folowed by her body gard insisted on me to travel with here during 4 days and saying at each of her professional meeting that I