Nobody speak. A Xinjiang journal.

Why coming here? I loathe the term dark tourism. Yet why am I here? I’m not an activist, a journalist, somebody with Continue reading →

A Huck Finn state of mind.

What does it feel like to be floating on the mighty Mississippi with no worries but where to moor for Continue reading →

Genghis’ Camp.

This didn’t feel like Central Asia. The road was smooth, the ride quiet, the old Mercedes van that did the Continue reading →

Throwing wolves by the lake shore.

Generalisations are often prone to error and misrepresentation, but – sometimes – they do hit the mark. I, for instance, Continue reading →

A sunset over Po-i-Kalyon

Showcasing Bukhara must be the easiest job ever, or so I thought with the clarity that suddenly comes when you’re Continue reading →

And then I was invited to tea.

Bukhara the holy, Bukhara the saint, Bukhara the erudite, Bukhara the city where light floods from the ground up and Continue reading →

Disaster by design: the death and partial rebirth of the Aral Sea (Part 3).

I’d expected the whistling undertaker from For a Fistful of Dollars to be appearing at every corner I turned. I was Continue reading →

The “Frontier School of Character”: Travels along the Pamir Highway Part V.

To Dušanbe. “In my opinion, eight officers out of ten are corrupted in Dušanbe” Tajik police officer, interviewed by I. Continue reading →