International man of mystery, smuggler, runner, train hopper, border crosser. I write twice weekly dispatches about my life as the worlds most elusive traveler. Join me as I explore the world searching for death defying travel adventure, cheap and mysterious street food, bizarre traditions and even stranger cultures.

I go places so you don’t have too.

Current trip: Overland from Ukraine to Singapore via the Balkans and the Middle East.

In 2000, 36 year old Edin Rama was elected mayor of Tirana Albania. Hoping to revive a capital city that had been left severely dilapidated and neglected by communist rule he commissioned several large apartment blocks in the city to be painted in bright and jovial patterns.

This decision should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with Rama and the history of communist architecture. Rama, having studied art in Albania, lived and perfected his craft in Paris during the mid Nineties before returning home to serve as mayor of Tirana. Once elected he took a look at the bleak gray facades of the buildings and went to work eliminating the communist era eyesores from his city.

However, instead of changing shades of gray for mild mannered solid colors, he opted for patterns and experimental designs. His kaleidoscope of colors was thrown on buildings by an army of painters and what resulted was a old city now revived in bright, bold, and beautiful colors.

While the colors and patterns might not be for everyone, they sure are an upgrade to the communist styles of the past. Only time will tell if other former Soviet cities follow suit but for now Tiranas buildings stand as an example of what could be with a little color and a lot of imagination.

Tom, get your plane right on time.
I know your part’ll go fine.
Fly down to Mexico Montenegro
Da-n-da-da-n-da-n-da-da and here I am,
The only living boy in New York Kotor
-Paul Simon “The Only Living Boy In New York”

It’s January and I’m the only living boy in Kotor.

You mean the only person at our hostel? How lucky? Must be quiet.

Yes, only person at my hostel and in the city.

oh, so just a few tourists?

No. The only tourist in the entire city.

Wow! I bet you’ve met some interesting locals!

Nope. I’m the only person in the entire city. Just me. No one else. No tourists, no day trippers, no merchants, no waiters, NO PEOPLE.

Kotor is a coastal city located in the absolutely beautiful Bay of Kotor in southern Montenegro and it is unfortunately where I have found myself this January. The residents of the city, aside from a few cats, have deserted it for reasons I cannot figure out and now I have the entire city to myself. It is for lack of a better word, bizarre. In the summer months, Kotor is absolutely packed with tourists from all up and down the coast, rich people in yachts, and swarms of backpackers. In January however, it’s filled with just me. Me, and only me.

While driving into the city I was absolutely stunned by the sheer beauty of the Bay of Kotor and the surrounding area. Massive grey mountains were pushed right up to the shore of a milky blue ocean while churches sat perched on tiny islands in the middle of the bay. I was so excited to be there that I told myself my first stop was going to be a rental agency to inquire about a long term apartment. This I thought, is the place I want to be. However, since no one was in the city my plan dissolved and I ended up only spending two very lonely and very quiet days in the area.

I spent my days in Kotor aimlessly walking around the deserted streets trying to find any sign if life but got nothing. I knocked on the church doors, climbed to the fortress and yelled ‘fire’, and even took a pee in the middle of the main square and nobody noticed. It was as though I was the last human on earth post Zombie apocalypse.

I shot a short movie while in the city which I hope to upload sometime next week. It’s me living out my I Am Legend fantasy in an abandoned city. Stay tuned.

This weeks dorm room dicknhead was an easy one. It goes to this guy who said a big “fuck you” to lockers, under bed storage, and the other 9 people in his dorm.

Thanks for being a champion of tidiness and organization.

After my wild night at the most bizarre hotel on planet earth I woke up the next morning and took a walk around Chisinua to see if the city held the same quirks as my hotel.

The thing the first grabbed me was the incredible sunrise from the balcony of my hotel. I have never seen colors so bright and vivid in my entire life.

Curious to see what the city held other than an abundance of car theirs, stray dogs, and hookers I made my along Stefan cel Mare Boulevard taking in the sites the best I could.

My first destination was the local market where I browsed through heaps of second hand shoes, frayed speaker cables, rubiks cubes, and women’s underwear.

After that I met with a real estate agent and looked at property should i ever want to make a second home in Moldova. This one looked a little too breezy for me.

The second place was slightly better buy I prefer to live in buildings that are level.

The third option was best. It came with its own laundry unit, garden, and an excellent location on the steps of the Moldovan Parliment building.

On the way to the city center I stopped by the local wet market but didn’t buy anything. Most of the stalls seemed a little fishy.

While in the park I came across a holiday greeting from Santa and his sinister pink pigs.

One if the joys of traveling and experiencing new countries is fully enriching yourself with their storied history and important figures. Colonel Sanders for example: Noted racist, inventor of fried chicken and the quadruple bypass.

Or this guy. Who at one point in his life did something so important and memorable in Moldovan history that they gave him is own statue in the park.

It’s beginning to look a lot like… An electrical fire

The highlight of any trip in Chisiniua is definitely the Moldovan Arch D Triumph.

In cased you missed it in the first picture, here I am pointing it out too you.

For $45 a night you can stay at this hotel. Getting filmed while showering is included in the price.

Any country that has to advertise to its residents that torture IS a crime is alright by me.

Thanks Moldova. I’ll be back!

Departure: 7:50pm from Lviv, Ukraine
Arrival: 8:00am in Odessa, Ukraine
Duration: 12 hours and 10 minutes
Class: 2nd class sleeper berth

The conceit of the long-distance traveller is the belief that he is going so far, he will be alone — inconceivable that another person has the same good idea
- Paul Theroux

The night train between Lviv and Odessa is old. It’s second class hallways are still lined with wooden cabins and red leather sleeper berths. Carriage maidens ply the hallways taking and delivering tea orders. The train rocks, rolls, climbs, creeks, and clanks. Wake up in this train after a long night on the bottle and you very we’ll may think it’s 1950.

These are the trains that I love. Trains filled with character and characters. For me this train is a unique experience as it is the first time in nearly three years of train travel that I have an entire compartment all to myself. No kids, no soldiers, no families, no farmers. Only me, a cup of fine Sri Lankan tea, and the old cabbage smell of a working class Ukrainian family permeating the walls from the cabin next to mine.

Most night trains that I have taken typically leave at ungodly hours. Last month the train I took in Russia between Moscow and St. Petersburg left at 2:10am making a rather famous rail journey mildly unenjoyable. I decided that since tonight’s train left at 7:50 and I had the benefit of my own cabin I would take the liberty of going for a walk and hopefully seeing what horrors existed in a Ukrainian Railways dining car. Unfortunately I only made it to the hallway of the next carriage before a sinister looking Ukrainen man chain smoking in the passage way gave me a look as to say “if you move I will break you”. After that I decided starvation sounded quite all right and hastily retreated back to my empty couchette.

An hour or so later I sought out the cars maiden to get a second cup of tea and in the process struck up a conversation with a middle aged man traveling on business. Shockingly he was able to tell I was a tourist and told me about his home town and why I should go there. However once he mentioned that it was in eastern Ukraine I immediately tuned him out as the eastern part of Ukraine is home only to industry, human trafficking, and cities laid waste to nuclear meltdown. None the less I listened to his sales pitch but added my own commentary in my head as he spoke.

Guy: “you should come to my city it is very beautiful (industrial). We have many interesting sights (coal factories). If you come you can see a city with lots of histories (history of coal factories). We have nice river(polluted by coal factories) and the view from buildings is nice (skyline polluted by coal factories). You can make trip to outside city and see old village(built to house workers in coal factory) or you can lay on (polluted) beach and watch ships (ocean tankers carrying coal). Many beautiful girls (escorts looking to get out of coal mining town) are in city. You will see. Good food (three headed fish) Very nice place my city. Very nice (place to contract lung cancer).

Me: I’ll look into it. (did not look into it)

I got my tea and made it back to my couchette but not before making eye contact with the smoker from before. We locked eyes and he made a move with his hands near us neck but before he could finish I ducked into my cabin and locked the door… And reminded there all night and into the morning.

Departure: 10:05 from Kiev
Arrival: 6:20am in Lviv
Duration: 8 hours and 15 minutes
Class: 3rd class sleeper

frseeeeeeeefronnnng train somewhere whistling the strength those engines have in them like big giants and the water rolling all over and out of them all sides like the end of Loves old sweet sonnnng the poor men that have to be out all the night from their wives and families in those roasting engines
-James Joyce, Ulysses

My first journey on Ukrainian rails was one of friendship instead of hardship. I booked my usual third class sleeper ticket and after boarding the train found myself a spot among four other Ukrainian travelers. Our six person birth consisted of me, an older married couple, a middle aged women traveling alone, and a young businessman who looked like Winn Butlers drunk brother. The four of them exchanged pleasantries and I sat there in silence. They passed around bedding and luggage and I sat there in silence. The young businessman told a joke, everyone laughed, and I sat there in silence. At this point it was glaringly obvious I was not Ukrainian but my four other bunk mates didn’t seem to mind.

As the car maiden made her rounds collecting and delivering tea orders I decided to buy all of my cabin mates a cup of tea. As altruistic as this might sound I actually did it for selfish reasons. As I have learned in my travels, old people, couples, and families ALWAYS bring food/candies/drinks with them on long train journeys. I knew that if I shelled out for four cups of tea I would reap the benefits of 4 different food stashes and sure enough after the tea was delivered and I paid the maiden for all 4 cups ($.75) I was promptly handed a Chiquita banana, and handful of room temperature McDonalds French fries, and an ice cold Ukrainian beer. My simple $.75 gesture née investment yielded me quite a bounty and on top of that four very happy and thankful new friends.

However with a fierce language barrier in place there was zero conversation amongst new friends. We all sat there silently eating bananas and French fries, sipping warm tea and cold beer, occasionally smiling at each other, silently laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

The rest of the journey was uneventful and the following morning I walked 30 minutes in the rain from the train station to my hostel only to find it abandoned for winter except for an elderly babushka caretaker and her cat. After 10 minutes of pantomiming my desire for a place to sleep for two nights she agreed to let me sleep in the empty dorm for a discounted rate of $7 a night.

Where: Kiev, Ukraine
How: 1 hour flight from Helsinki Finland to Riga Latvia / 1.5 hour flight from Riga to Kiev
Why: Start of my “Sketchy Country Journey” from Kiev to Singapore
What: Soviet Era Dining Halls, Embalmed Monks, Golden Domes, Lavra Monastery

Kiev Ukraine is home to nothing and not only nothing but an abundance of nothing. It’s a massive city on par with Moscow, London, or Shangahi yet holds no central or important world landmark. It has just about everything you would need in a modern city which means it has nothing.

My first impression of Kiev was one of surprise. One one hand it’s uniquely Russian still clinging to its Soviet past yet on the other you are just as likely to see youths on the metro with iPads as you are babushkas selling pickles from handcarts. Kiev’s identity is still evolving. It’s racing to its future in the European Union without digging up the roots that give it a non-European feel.

Kiev has become a bizarre cradle of all that is Russian both past and present. It now proudly shows its wealth, it’s abundance of corruption, and its industrial revolution alongside its move into the 21st century and it’s quest to share the main stage with Western Europe.

However, Kiev’s brightest moments do shine when you least expect them too. Take a walk through the chaotic city and your eyes will soon lock on the magnificent golden domes of St. Michaels Cathedral. Between dodging blacked out Range Rovers and soviet era Martrushkas you are bound to find yourself at the foot of Saint Sofia’s or Kievs world famous Lavra monestary, home to embalmed bodies of hundreds of monks buried in underground caves.

Regardless of its dull surface, Kiev’s seemingly hollow body still holds the monasteries, tree lined promenades, architecture, and history that make a trip here worth it. To understand Kiev is to see Kiev. Most people however will never get the chance and Kiev is unfortunately very difficult to put into words. It’s as Russian as it is European. Beautiful as it is ugly. Deep as it is shallow. Kiev is Kiev.

There are three things I have learned from traveling: Traveling is Fun. Traveling is an adventure. Traveling can be expensive.

Luckily, I found a way to fix the third thing: Smuggling

My first foray into smuggling happened 3 years ago when I moved certain items (not drugs. Don’t bother asking) out of Nepal and into Thailand. I was short on money at the time I knew I could flip the items for a pretty good profit inside Thailand and Cambodia. The night before I left Nepal I outfitted my backpack with several secret spots to conceal items as small as a diamond to as big as a full loaf of bread. The next morning I walked through immigration, had my bags searched, boarded the airplane and made it to Thailand scot free where I liquidated the items that same night on Khao San Road in central Bangkok.

Since my experience as a smuggler proved to not only be easy but very lucrative I plied my trade a few more times throughout Asia and Europe with moderate success. I recently decided last month after making my last smuggling run out of Russia to come clean with my part time trade and explain how it all works. Without further ado:

How To Smuggle $1000 worth of Cigarettes out of Russia and into Europe

With the recent taxes and import tariffs levied against cigarette manufacturers the cost of cigarettes is rapidly increasing in both America and Europe. In some American states the cost has risen as high as $12 per pack and in Europe its not uncommon to see similar prices depending on the country. However, in Russia, the cost of American branded cigarettes like Marlboro or Lucky Strike have stalled at an unbelievably low price of $1. Some times even less. Obviously due to such a large gap in price difference a secondary cigarette trade has sprung up with people illegally moving cigarettes from Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, and other non EU countries into the European Union. With a near 800% markup per pack, how could you blame them.

The major smuggling of cigarettes and other high ticket contraband are controlled by the local organized crime syndicates and there is absolutely no room to gain anyone sort of toe hold on their trade. However, for an independent small time smuggler you can make a pretty quick buck if you are smart and careful. This is where my story starts.

Step 1: The initial purchase and concealment

October 2011
The streets off Nevsky Prospekt
St. Petersburg, Russia

After having been in Russia for nearly two and a half weeks I was out of money and on my way out of Russia to a neighboring EU country. The night I was set to leave I went down to the local Russian market and bought 6 cartons of Marlboro cigarettes for $8 (one carton contains 10 packs and sells for about $10 – however if you purchase a full carton it’s typically a dollar or two cheaper). I went back to my hostel that night and carefully hid all 6 cartons in my backpack and left to catch my bus that was leaving at 10pm.

Step 2: The second purchase and the not so concealment of contraband

As is typical for a cross border journey we ( me and 18 Russians) stopped at a duty free shop at the border where everyone was able to purchase tax free alcohol and cigarettes. European regulations allow you to bring TWO cartons of cigarettes into the EU without any penalty. At this time I already had 6 cartons hidden in my backpack so I did what any amateur smuggler / future Russian prisoner would do…. I bought 6 more cartons.

Having done this in the past I knew there were three things I could do to not only hide my original six cartons but my six new cartons.

First, I bought the cartons in packs of two at a time and got individual receipts for each group of two. This consisted of me buying two cartons, running back to the bus, buying two more cartons, running back to the bus, buying the two final cartons, and running back to the bus. This way, I could prove that each carton was purchased legally and that only two were purchased.

Second, I noticed that not everyone on the bus bought cigarettes. I also noticed that the person sitting directly in front of did not purchase any cigarettes or alcohol. When I came back to the bus with my 6 new cartons I took two of them, placed the receipt on top, and slid them under the seat in front me indicating that this unlucky person was now the proud owner of two cartons of cigarettes. I. Then took two more cartons, put the receipt on top and placed them in my seat. T the border guards searching the bus it would like I only had two cartons on me (the ones in my seat)

Third, I took the last two remaining cartons with the receipt and carried them with me as I walked through Russian customs and across the border. Like step 2 it would appear to the guards that the two cartons I was carrying were the only ones in my possession, forgetting the two under the seat in front of me, the two on my seat… and the six concealed in my backpack.

Step 3: The search

American Passport + single white male + traveling alone + leaving Russia via land at 1am = definite search of persons and property

The Russian border guards we surprisingly not very thorough in their search of my backpack. I smiled when it was time turn to be searched, held up my two cartons (with receipt!), and pretended to feign interest while they casually rooted through my stuff. As a bonus, since we crossed the border at 1:30am the notoriously unscrupulous guards looked like they would rather be anywhere else in the world then searching some dumb Americans backpack.

They turned up nothing.

So far so good.

After passing through Russian customs we were lead to a holding room while the bus was searched. Two soldiers and one very large German Shepard did a long and laborious search of the bus and much to my enjoyment, came up with nothing. (they were most likely looking for drugs and people)

After the guards were done searching the bus they motioned that we would now be able to board. I made it a point to be the first one on and while walking down the isle gave a casual kick to my two hidden cartons on the floor back a row to my seat. I then quickly put the four cartons I had on the bus in my little backpack and held on to the other two as we passed through immigration on the other side of the border.

Once through, I breathed a very long sigh of relief knowing that I had just smuggled 12 cartons of cigarettes across international borders. If I was a smoker it would have been an opportune, comical, and rather ironic time to have a cigarette.

Step 4: Distribution

The initial smuggling of contraband across borders is only half the battle. The second half is redistributing them in another country for a profit. Luckily for me my occupation at the time had me doing a lot of business with a certain group of heavy smokers and it took me about an hour to sell all 120 packs of cigarettes at $10 each.

$10 x 120 = 1200 – 100 (cost of 12 cartons) = a profit of $1100

All said and done I cleared $1100 which paid for my entire trip in Russia and then some.

Conclusion

As easy as it sounds it is extremely risky and the consequences for getting caught ( fines, permanent deportation, time in the Gulag) heavily outweigh the benefits.

Now that I’ve completed my last job and published this story it looks like my days as an international smuggler are now over. Fun while it lasted.

December 10th, 2011

Kiev, Ukraine

Its funny whats happening to our society as our lives become more and more digital

Our friends have become numbers in a virtual realm.  Everything we have ever wanted to know is a simple click away.

But as our lives continue to move at the speed of technology, experiencing the world through second hand information is simply not enough.

Nobody creates their own moments anymore.  We now live vicariously through re-blogged posts and images curated by single clicks.

Its emulation.  Its scary.  Its the life were living.

It we want any semblance of authenticity in our rapidly saturating life we need to initiate it ourselves.

Our full potential remains on the shelf unless we challenge ourselves to find it.

Its this initiative, this yearning for adventure, this fervor, that takes us into the wild and into the eye of adventure.