Cycling The Middle East And North Africa – A Photography Exhibition in Yerevan

While I realise that a great deal of my readers won’t be in Yerevan this Friday the 12th of March, I feel that it’s important to put the word out about my first ever photography exhibition – or any kind of exhibition, for that matter.

Thanks to the Armenian Centre for Contemporary Experimental Art, forty of my more attractive snaps from 2009, blown up to glorious A3 size, will be adorning the walls of the Nicholas Boghossian gallery for the next three weeks. I’m hoping to raise a few pennies for the charities I support through the sale of these pieces of work. I don’t know if anyone will turn up to the opening, let alone want to buy any of them – I have never been particularly confident that my photos look good to anyone other than myself – but the gallery staff seem to like the prints, so that’s a good start!

If by some bizarre coincidence you’re reading this and you’ll be in Yerevan this Friday, please come along at 5pm to the ACCEA (aka NPAK), near the Vernissage and Republic Square, and check out the pics for free!

(Can’t make it? See the pics as a Flickr slideshow.)

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The Brick Wall Of Eternal Dissatisfaction

It occurred over the festive season, when I had the pleasure of hosting Fearghal and Simon in Yerevan for a very merry Christmas and New Year. Conversation had turned to bicycle travel, as it had an annoying habit of doing every few minutes. Fearghal and I were discussing motivations for future bike trips.

Andy on the downhill

“It just wasn’t challenging enough”, he pondered, referring to (amongst other things) crossing 50°C deserts in Western China, slogging 200km a day on highways across Iran, and climbing 4,000m mountain passes in Bolivia. These conditions were uncomfortable – quite horrible, even – but not worth quitting over.

I thought back to northern Sudan’s sandy wastes, Ethiopia’s packs of rock-lobbers and gravel roads too steep to push, and Oman’s withering desert summer – hot enough to cook meringues in the open air – and found myself agreeing with him. It had been tough, there’s no doubt about that, but, for some twisted reason, it hadn’t been quite tough enough to put me off looking for something more. Read More »

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Moving Pictures From The Distant Past

While I was preparing to leave England, two years and eight months ago, an energetic pair of filmmakers called Ben and James were expending rather a lot of cash and effort on shooting, editing and promoting the beginnings of a video podcast series. The idea was simple – publish short and snappy video episodes of our round-the-world bike trip, with production costs paid for by per-episode sponsors.

It sounded like a worthwhile project, a good learning experience, and a lot of fun. Lo and behold, after a couple of weeks’ riding we were chortling uncontrollably at our on-camera antics as they were published to the world. That was fun! Read More »

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Why I Can’t Live In Armenia (I’m Too British)

My life is boring. My daily routine consists of getting up an hour before sunrise, going for a run, jumping into (and rapidly out of) a cold shower, having breakfast and then sitting down for an 8-to-12-hour stint in front of my computer screen. I am making websites for a living these days. It puts money in the bank for travelling, the prospect of which is starting to inch within visible range. But it bores me to tears.

It could be worse. Much worse. There’s a big, empty park on a hilltop 15 minutes walk away, which I share in the mornings with a small crew of old men who patrol the big wide promenades at night, so I’m lucky for that. I live in a country which might not exactly fit the definition of utopia, but I have all of life’s essentials, and nobody’s starving, so I’m lucky for that. I have a skill – that I can use anywhere on the planet with an internet connection – to earn a half-decent Western wage, so on a global scale I’m exceptionally lucky for that. But most of the time, I’m bored out of my mind. Read More »

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Guest Blog: Raised From The Alive

DSC_0047

For this, the first in an occasional series of guest blogs (they’re all the rage these days), I’d like to re-introduce an old friend, a man with whom I braved the horrors of Western and Central Europe for 10 weeks of this bicycle journey… ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Mark Maultby! Take it away…

Hello there. This isn’t Tom writing. What?! Sorry, but I’m hi-jacking this space for my own agenda. Actually, ‘hi-jacking’ is too fierce a word; how about ‘trampling-on’? Read More »

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