We kicked things off in New York City with a great crowd.

The next day I rode Amtrak up to Boston for a return visit to the Harvard Coop, where I was 18 months ago for The Art of Non-Conformity tour.

After that, I went down to Washington, D.C. and Alexandria, Virginia.

I returned to NYC for the weekend and a shared event at New Work City.

From NYC I went to Chapel Hill, where I met up with my brother for an important bourbon tasting and a fun evening in the Nelson Mandela theater at the University of North Carolina.

The next day I went to Atlanta, where a couple of big surprises were waiting. On the earlier tour, Atlanta was one of my favorite stops. The crowd was extremely enthusiastic and our host, Judi Knight, went above and beyond in putting on a great show.

Among other things, Judi had recruited a brass band (complete with tuba player) to serve as the opening act. After my talk, they resumed playing while I signed books, and finally closed it out with a full-on parade through the signing line. There’s a first time for everything, I said later on Twitter.

Attention LONDON: Friends in the UK and nearby, we’ll be launching the UK/Commonwealth edition of the book next week. I’ll be at Concrete (56 Shoreditch High Street) in central London on Friday, May 25th at 7pm. If you’re in town or able to travel in, I’d love to see you. Sign up here for updates.

I’ll be sharing more about the tour in forthcoming posts. Until then, you can follow along on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, or live in person at the next 10 stops.

Book News: So Far, So Good

Right now the book is in the hands of more than 15,000 people who picked it up during the first week. We’re still compiling the news on a few different sales metrics and records, but so far, so good. The book continues to sell well and earn strong reviews, for which I’m glad.

At some point during the week, I heard from an executive at another publishing house. They saw that we were #1 in organic orders from independent bookstores and wanted to know “how we did it.”

I thought this was funny. How did we do it?

Well, it took approximately four years. I’ve been building AONC the whole time, trying my best to work consistently toward a long-term goal. Then I spent three months working almost exclusively on all things $100 Startup.

I did 47 interviews in April, all in preparation for the launch. I wrote a dozen guest posts and op-eds that went out to the world over the past ten days. I announced and planned the world’s first 7-continent book tour.

But ultimately, I know that my own hustling efforts can only take us so far. The REAL success of the book comes from readers and our community.

On book tour I talk about how many of the people in our group regularly inspire me. If you’re out there and you’ve helped get us this far, THANKS SO MUCH!

I’ll be in Houston tonight, Denver tomorrow, and onwards next week. Wherever you are, keep rocking the universe.

###

I often think in airport codes, and I know at least a couple hundred of them by memory. Name an airport, even a fairly obscure one, and there’s a good chance I know its shorthand.

But even I was stumped when it came to Ashgabat, Turkmenistan. Until a few years ago when I had racked up my first hundred countries, I wasn’t even sure where Turkmenistan was.

Answers: Turkmenistan is in Central Asia, bordered by Iran, Uzbekistan, Afghanistan, and the Caspian Sea. The airport code is ASB, for the two people out there who are curious.

Getting to Ashgabat required a long journey from Los Angeles to Istanbul, via one-night stopover in London. Two days after beginning my journey from LAX, I walked outside in Ashgabat and stared up at the sky. First impression: there’s a lot of space here. The buildings are huge. The roads are enormously wide.

The previous week I drove from Dallas to Austin and then back again on the way to the SXSW Interactive festival. Looking at the wide open skyline in Ashgabat reminded me of Texas. You know what they say—everything’s bigger in Turkmenistan.

***

Turkmenistan is a fairly difficult country for Westerners to enter. To get there I had to have a sponsor, which means I had to pay $500. Technically, all I needed was a letter of invitation, but the travel agencies that facilitate western visitors are smart enough to bundle their services. It’s not possible to purchase only a letter; you have to book a hotel stay, airport transfers, and at least some kind of tour through the agency. The other quote I received was $1450, so I decided that $500 was better.

A guide is required to accompany visitors to most places in the country, so I was dutifully ferried around. For some reason my guide called me Alexander for the whole visit. “Let me tell you brief Turkmen history, Alexander.” We drove along and he pointed out the sights. “Over here is Chinese Petroleum Company. Over there is presidential palace, Alexander.”

As part of my tour I went to the national museum. Only museum employees are allowed to escort foreign visitors, so my guide had to wait outside while another guide showed me around. This guide was a 19-year old woman, fresh out of guide school and very nervous. Her English vocabulary was immense, or so I thought at first.

In rapid-fire sentences I heard all about the metallurgic age, the goddess of fertility, and something called an emblem of consciousness. This was all in the first exhibit.

I could hardly keep up, but it was all rote learning, with words and phrases strung together from a textbook. “Wow, you have to memorize a lot!” I said, as she looked at me blankly. “Here is the dynastic contribution from the pre-revolutionary era of neutrality… Some say it was modeled on an Athenian vision of intellect.”

***

I started sleeping in three-hour shifts. One shift on the red-eye from Istanbul. One shift upon arrival at the hotel. One shift that night before rising at 5am. It wasn’t sustainable, but I did the best I could until it finally caught up to me on my second night in Ashgabat. At 6pm I drank a cup of Nescafe in a fight to stay awake, then promptly fell asleep for six hours. I woke up after midnight with nothing to do but wander downstairs and attempt to work.

Access to Twitter and Facebook is blocked in Turkmenistan, although Turkmenistan Airlines apparently has a page that can only be accessed outside the country. The Guardian and other news sites are also blocked. Unlike parts of China and the U.S. government’s computers in Afghanistan, however, I was pleased to see that The Art of Non-Conformity loaded up with no problems. I cleared my emails and worked on plans for the upcoming book tour.

Next I’m heading to Dubai and then Sudan. After several previous attempts, I now have an airport entry permit that will allow me to get the visa upon arrival in Khartoum. I’m psyched.

My sleep schedule never got corrected, but I packed up, said goodbye to my guides (“Have a nice trip, Alexander”) and prepared to return to Istanbul and beyond.

Onwards.

###

*The ambassador application for the 2012 World Domination Summit is now open! If you live in Portland, you can now volunteer to help with the event for our 1,000 global attendees.

Image: RTC

Greetings from Austin, Texas.

Later today I’ll be presenting the first public debut of The $100 Startup here at the SXSW Interactive Festival. If you’re around, drop by Convention Center Ballroom G at 5pm local time.

Afterwards, I’ll be signing my first book and giving away a few galleys of the new one.

First thing tomorrow, I’m heading back to Dallas and beyond for my last overseas trip of the spring. I’ll be going to Turkmenistan (definitely) and Sudan (hopefully).

Numerous earlier attempts at arranging a visa for Sudan have failed, despite the efforts of many helpful friends and readers. My latest contact promises that all is well this time, so I’m taking his word for it and flying to Dubai.

To get to Turkmenistan, I’ll travel through London and Istanbul. I booked a round-trip award on Turkish Airways to Ashgabat, where a contact has arranged a tour for me. Assuming all goes well, I’ll get to Sudan on FlyDubai, a budget carrier based in the Emirates.

In some countries, you can’t visit as an outsider without a good reason—so for both Turkmenistan and Sudan, I’m working with a local sponsor who is then responsible for me while I’m in the country. Having a sponsor can also be good for helping with logistics in case something goes wrong.

After this trip, I won’t have any international trips for at least two months, maybe longer. The upcoming book launch will keep me busy for all of April, and then in May I’ll hit the road in the U.S. and Canada to meet readers in at least twenty-five cities.

Only 10 Countries Left! Who’s Coming to Norway in 2013?

I went to Nauru, Vanuatu, and the Solomon Islands on last month’s trip through the South Pacific, an adventure that took me from 13 countries to only 10. Yep, I’m almost in single digits… and if all goes well this week, I’ll officially make the drop.

I still have a few countries that I’m worried about, but much to my surprise, it’s all going fairly well. As long as the good luck continues, in April 2013 I’ll be visiting Norway for my final country.

I’ve heard from a lot of people who want to come along, and I suspect we’ll have at least one big party. If anyone wants to plan to be in Oslo around April 5-10 next year, you’re welcome to join me.

I also plan to get my first tattoo to observe the occasion (some kind of map or globe), but you don’t have to join me in that.

OK—I’m off to have some breakfast tacos, then I’m off to prepare for my talk, and then I’m off to see the world.

###

Image: ZCopley

When I boarded the flight to Nauru, I felt like I was going into exile.

The airline that flies to Nauru is called “Our Airline,” which could go down as the most comical airline name I’ve ever heard. (Runner up: “Jubbah Airways” in Somalia.)

I had previously been informed by my visa service that no visa is required to visit Nauru. Unfortunately, that fact turned out to be untrue—pretty much everyone going to Nauru needs a visa. After an earlier failure, I regrouped and made another attempt last week. This time, the visit was successful.

Upon searching for information on Nauru, I didn’t find much. One article that promised to share tips about Nauru “off the beaten path” received this comment from another reader:

“Please! You’re in Nauru… everything is off the beaten path.”

And she was right. There really isn’t much of a path on Nauru, aside from the single Ring Road that goes around the entire island.

I thought about running the course of the entire island (19 kilometers, or just under 12 miles) but was concerned about the heat. During my three-day visit, it never cooled off and the humidity was 75% or higher for much of the day. Attempting to run the distance of almost a half-marathon in such weather wasn’t the best idea, at least for me.

On my second day, however, I had to go to the immigration office to reclaim my passport. For some reason visitors receive their stamps upon arrival, but are then required to report to the actual immigration office a day or two later. It’s not like there was much to do, so I didn’t mind the errand.

En route to the office, we passed by the tiny airport. I noticed that the bus driver drove all the way around the runway, which was protected by a short fence that appeared to be fairly run down. I also recalled that there are only two flights a week—the one I came in on, and the one I’d be leaving on. Hmmm.

After being reunited with my passport, the afternoon began with lunch that consisted of Lipton tea and an entire package of cookies from the small convenience store adjacent to the hotel. The clerk who ran the shop was from China and spoke no more English than I did Chinese. “How are you?” I asked, and he gave me a confused look, watching me like a shoplifter as I perused the limited shelves.

Lunch was followed by productive activities including an extended nap and an attempt at sink-laundry (Protip: it’s all about the drying). Before sunset I changed into as few clothes as possible and ran back along the road to the runway. I didn’t listen to music, but I took my phone with me to take a few photos along the way.

I felt appropriately emboldened as I snuck over the fence, and wondered if I could make it the entire length of the runway and back. First lesson: even on Nauru, runways are LONG. Especially with the 75% humidity, this would not be a sprint.

I set off down the runway and ran ambled down toward the airport itself. I didn’t run around the whole island, but I ran for almost an hour, back and forth. Along the way I thought about the strange life I have that brings me to strange places like Nauru.

***

Lately I’ve been considering two truths about my adventures. The first is that I’ve known for a while that I’m getting tired. Traveling for a decade, especially with a 20-country-per-year pace over the past five years, is catching up to me. I have less energy and less patience.

I’m not tired of travel per se. I just look forward to traveling with less of an agenda, taking more time in some places and avoiding other places entirely. It will be good to move on when the time comes.

At the same time, I’ve also been aware that I need to hold tightly to this time, since I’m not sure what comes next. The quest has given me a clear goal to focus on for the past five years. I do more than just travel, but the travel is a big part of my identity.

I remember when I went to Easter Island in 2009. At the time, I couldn’t think of a more remote place in the world—but I just didn’t know much about places like Nauru, which is far more remote.

That’s why I try to take the time to appreciate wherever I am, to not let it pass me by without being aware of the magic. I’ll return to the South Pacific again, perhaps many times. But I highly doubt I’ll ever return to this remote runway, which doubles as an airfield and jogging track.

“See you tomorrow,” I said to the servers each night at my hotel. On my last night there, I said it again out of habit. As I left the restaurant, I realized the truth: I would probably never see them again.

###

*Big news! The $100 Startup is now available for pre-order on Amazon.com and all local bookstores. (I’ll share more info about the book in a full post soon.)

Image: Carmine

I always knew it would happen one day.

Having successfully arrived in Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, and Angola without the necessary visas, I had been pushing my luck.

Having challenged Belarus to a blogging duel, complete with a response by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, I was no stranger to difficult countries.

But last weekend in Eritrea, the luck ran out.

Let’s be clear: I’m not interested in taking unnecessary risks. In each case where I’ve had to take my chances on traveling without a visa, it was because all other options had exhausted themselves. I would have much preferred to have the necessary permission instead of trying to pull off an East African wedding crasher routine. Nevertheless, sometimes the best laid plans fall by the wayside, and that’s when you have to make a decision.

In Saudi Arabia’s case, the New York consulate came through with the visa at the last possible minute—and then promptly mailed my passport back to Portland, instead of holding it for local pickup on my way out of the country as agreed. Angola just kept the money and returned my passport without a word—and without the visa.

Eritrea, however, was the worst offender of all. Having paid for the visa a total of three times and waited a full 90 days with my passport at their Washington, D.C. embassy without results, I was in a quandary. With only 15 countries left on my list and 13 months to go, I couldn’t keep putting it off.

I decided to go for it and travel to the country anyway. What choice did I have? Passive resistance wasn’t getting me very far.

I managed to obtain my Egypt Air boarding passes in Madrid with only minimal subterfuge. Airlines are responsible for ensuring that passengers have the necessary approvals before traveling, so I knew there would be an interrogation of sorts. I decided I wouldn’t lie if directly asked about something, but I wasn’t above leaving out a few key facts if necessary.

It wasn’t that difficult; the agent was bored and had already printed the boarding passes when she remembered to check on the visa. I showed her my paperwork with a smile (but without the visa) and she wished me a good trip. So far, so good.

After a four-hour flight to Cairo, I powered up with an espresso and chocolate muffin. While sipping the coffee and preparing to board the final flight, I thought about the possible outcomes for the night ahead, based on ten years of experience in convincing random countries to allow me to visit.

Outcome 1: It would take some doing, but I’d get the entry visa upon arrival after pleading my case to various higher-ups. Predicted odds: 50%.

Outcome 2: I would get the entry visa upon arrival without any trouble at all, and my whole concern would be for nothing. Predicted odds: 25%.

Outcome 3: I would have a serious problem, would not get the entry visa, and would be thrown out of the country or thrown into jail. Predicted odds: 25%.

***

We landed after 2am and I was wide awake with nervous excitement. What would happen? How would the night end? Do Eritrean prisons have WiFi?

The plane parked on the tarmac and I rode a shuttle bus to the terminal with all the other passengers, most of whom were Eritrean. I began to feel relieved as the bus made the short trip; despite the late hour, everyone was smiling. Some of them caught my eye and said, “Welcome to Eritrea!”

“Welcome home!” I said in reply. The friendliness was a good sign, I thought.

Upon arrival at the first immigration blockade, however, I quickly realized that Option 2—the easy entry without any trouble—was definitely out.

“You don’t have a visa?” the first guy asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Not yet,” I said, projecting confidence and wearing my only nice shirt of the trip. (I had even made sure to tuck it in before landing. When crashing a country, you only get one chance to make a first impression.)

I had no visa, but I was not without ammunition. “Here is my landing card, my passport photo, my hotel reservation, and my return ticket,” I said, presenting the papers with a flourish. “How much does the visa cost?”

This ruse often works. Four years of arguing with numerous government leaders in West Africa followed by another six years of frequent international travel has taught me the power of paper. If you don’t have the right piece of paper for the job, bring lots of other paper instead.

Unfortunately, the paper-pushing trick didn’t work on the first guy, and the second guy I was referred to didn’t even look at any of the printouts. I kept getting passed off higher and higher until I finally ended up in the office of the Chief Immigration Officer. It was here I would make my last stand.

Alas, this final challenge didn’t begin well. In another ominous sign, the Chief Immigration Officer was not nearly as friendly as the smiling Eritreans I had rode in on the bus with. I tried some light banter: “Wow, I’m really excited to be here. Do you guys have a hop-on, hop-off bus? Any theme parks I should visit?”

Despite my brilliant attempt at making friends, the boss didn’t seem very interested in getting to know me. An offer of a complimentary Turkish Airways amenity kit from a previous flight was also swatted away.

I sat and waited, feeling optimistic (“60/40 odds,” I told myself. “Maybe even 70/30″). Calls were made. Officials were dispatched to check the records to see where I had previously applied for visas at the embassy in Washington. Long conversations about me were conducted in a language I didn’t understand, although naturally I assumed that the phrases “bestselling author” and “popular Facebook page” were spoken.

The longer I waited, the more the odds improved—or so I thought. Another rule of these situations is that if you keep sitting around patiently, eventually they’ll get bored and let you in. Unfortunately, every immigration rule has an exception. All of a sudden, the waiting shifted to action, and the action wasn’t good.

In Which It All Comes To An Abrupt End

I couldn’t believe it, but after two hours of making new friends while gently pleading my case, I was going out on the return flight to Cairo… which now left in ten minutes. No way! But indeed, that was the plan, and I had no vote in the matter. I was assigned a handler, marched outside the airport, and guided around to the departure area in front. I was disappointed and sleep-deprived, but as I was given a hand-written boarding pass, I remembered to ask the all-important question: “Can you add my Frequent Flyer number?”

Yes, if I was really going to be deported, at least I’d earn miles for it. It’s 1,130 miles from Asmara to Cairo, plus any special “last minute deportation” bonuses that happen to be available this week. Lesson: never pass up miles or points when they come your way.

Everyone else had boarded and the plane was ready to go. My handler, the Egyptian Airlines station manager, and a couple of hangers-on walked me back out the tarmac and up the steps of the waiting plane. Inside the cabin, the station manager handed my passport to the purser and instructed him to return it only upon reaching the transit desk in Cairo. I never like to be without my passport, but such was the price to pay for being deported.

The plane took off and I dozed against the window, looking down at Asmara as we prepared to leave Eritrean airspace on the way back to Egypt. Exhaustion was creeping in after staying up all night, but the whole time I was thinking about one important question: does this count as a country visit?

Ask the Readers: Does This Count?

People often ask what my criteria is for visiting a country. Long story short, I don’t really have any. My one rule is that I don’t count airport stops—I can’t just be in transit somewhere. I’ve been on two flights that have touched down in Khartoum, for example, but since I didn’t get off the plane, I still can’t say that I’ve been to Sudan.

This case is trickier, though. I’ve paid to go to Eritrea on multiple occasions. I did make it to the airport, and even outside the airport. I had an extended interrogation session with several interesting people. It wasn’t like going on a tour of the interior and stopping by a few villages, but it was certainly a story-worthy experience.

Even if it probably shouldn’t count as a true visit, the honest truth is that I really don’t know if I’ll be allowed back into Eritrea, at least anytime soon. After 90 days of pestering the embassy and paying the fee three times, they still returned my passport with no visa.

The Eritreans I talked with have all been very friendly, much like the Ethiopians I know. But the government has a reputation for being hostile and highly secretive. Eritrea is in a long-standing conflict with Ethiopia, and the U.S. government is on the side of the Ethiopians. I’ve never held any position in the government and don’t have anything to do with politics, but when it comes to immigration and travel restrictions, these things matter.

When I visited Angola last year, I also had visa problems and wasn’t expecting to be able to enter the country, instead planning an extended transit. After much stress with the embassy and repeated payoffs, I had finally made my peace with accepting that the Angola visit might need to have an asterisk next to it. Much to my surprise, however, when I went there I was actually allowed free reign of Luanda—thus obviating the need for the asterisk. I’m tempted to put this visit in the same category, but I’d like to know what you think.

For those who are still reading, have I officially been to Eritrea, or will I need to regroup yet again and make another plan?

Share your opinion (yes/no/something else) here.

Go easy on me…

###

Next week is the final round of ticket sales for the World Domination Summit! Tickets will be offered on a first-come, first-served basis to this waiting list.

Image: Mike

After a product launch and a few frantic days copyediting a book manuscript, I got on a plane and left to see the world.

It began with a 4:30am alarm and a taxi to the airport. I hopped the early Alaska Air flight down to LAX, took an afternoon American Airlines departure to Kennedy, and another late-night AA flight to Barcelona. Non-stop travel with a lot of stops.

In BCN I wandered the empty concourse at 5:45am. Boarding to Madrid was an hour later, but I had to switch to the Euro zone flight area, which means going through immigration and getting an entry stamp.

In Madrid I went through another process—shuffling down to baggage claim, out to the terminal shuttle bus, and over to Terminal 1. I then transferred to the non-Euro zone area and went through immigration again. Stamp-stamp. (The extra stamps are annoying, filling up my passport page for no good reason.)

The check-in with Turkish Airways was efficient, and I wandered off to board for Istanbul and beyond with only a slight delay in the departure lounge. By this point I was exhausted and slept for most of the four-hour flight. I perked up just in time for the fourth transit stop of the weekend.

Istanbul is a place I like but hardly know. I made a mental note to add Turkey to the list of places I’d like to spend more time in when the quest is over.

I went to the lounge, ate some Turkish pizza and prepared for the final flight: destination Dushanbe, Tajikistan. This flight was to board at 7pm and arrive at 3:45am, but with a three-hour change in between.

Where’s Tajikistan, you ask? It’s in the heart of Central Asia, a region that intimidated me until I actually went there and discovered it can be both welcoming and fun. Once this visit is complete, I’ll have only one “stan” remaining. Turkmenistan, the final frontier, will be coming up soon.

But I’m not so sure about showing up in January. Walking outside to meet my driver, I’m reminded of my Canadian book tour, which was also in the dead of winter and involved lots of walking around in cities without a coat.

Fortunately, the heat in the minivan is blasting, and I enjoy the ride as the driver points out various sights along the way. When we pull up to the Dushanbe Hyatt at 4am, I attempt the traveler’s trick of being naïve about check-in times.

I had emailed the hotel in advance to ask about airport transfers, and they offered to add an existing night to my reservation. It was fairly expensive, though, and I knew I’d have at least some chance of early check-in. In the past I’ve shown up as early as 8am, playing it cool and pretending that it’s normal to check-in several hours in advance of the advertised check-in time.

When informed of the policy, the best response is to be surprised: “Oh, really? Well, I suppose I can sit over on this bench until you have a room.”

I’ve never sat more than an hour when using this strategy. Most of the time, I sit for a few minutes, then all of a sudden a room becomes available. But 4am is really pushing it, and it doesn’t work this time. I decide to change tactics. “How much will it cost to check in now?”

“There is a 100% penalty,” the night clerk says, meaning that I’ll have to pay for a full night’s stay.

“100% is a lot,” I say. “How about 50%?”

And here’s the difference between a place like Russia itself, which I found inflexible and harsh, and a place like Central Asia, which retains the bureaucratic essence of the Soviet Union but also has a heart. The clerk picks up the phone to call the manager, but then puts it back down, making his own decision.

“OK,” he says. “Pay 50% for the extra day, and you can check-in now.”

Half price for a real shower, real internet, and a real bed is worth it. I head up to the 10th floor, enter my room, and settle in. First step: Always unpack everything before doing anything else. Put the running shoes by the door, the shirts in the closet, the laptop on the desk, and the watch by the bed.

I look out my window and see the morning light slowly beginning to shine in. There is snow on the ground below, mountains off in the distance, and a mosque next door.

The hotel is a good base for writing and catching up after the 72 hours it required to get here. Tomorrow I’ll bundle up and go on a city tour, and then I’ll decide what to do after that. I’d love to run down the wide streets I saw on the way in, but with temperatures of 28°F / -2°C, I might stick to the hotel gym.

***

The upcoming weekend’s adventure involves an attempt to visit Eritrea. For months my visa service has kept me waiting on the application, telling me everything is normal even though I learned at mid-point that the service has never done a successful application for a non-Eritrean applicant.

I was frustrated at their lack of urgency in badgering the consulate, which is exactly what you pay a processing service to do. Finally I talk it over with myself and realize the obvious lesson:

Stop pushing on something that isn’t going to happen. Forget about the rules and get on the plane anyway. Think of a good story that will allow you to purchase a visa upon arrival that isn’t supposed to be available. You’ve done this before and haven’t gone to jail yet, at least not as an adult. (Knock on wood.)

That’s the adventure for Friday through Sunday, and I determine to make sure to have a post ready to go for Monday just in case Eritrean jails don’t have WiFi hotspots.

But first, I’ve made it to country #178, and I’m glad. I lay down on the bed and fall fast asleep.

###

Do you have an iPhone? I finally caught up to 2007 and have been posting travel photos on Instagram (user: 193countries). You can also follow me on Google+.

Image: Neil

On my last trip, I made it to a country I’d been wondering about ever since beginning my quest more than five years ago: Somalia.

Technically, I went to Somaliland, also known as the safe part of Somalia. Somalia itself is a mess, arguably the world’s most dangerous country, and with hardly a functioning government of any kind. (One of its recent prime ministers now works at the New York State Department of Transportation.)

People often ask me about visiting dangerous places, and I have a stock answer: there aren’t that many. Most countries around the world are about as safe as where you live now, so for the most part you don’t need to worry.

But it’s true there are a couple of exceptions, and Somalia is at the top of the list. That’s why I went to Somaliland instead, an autonomous region that should probably be its own country, but for the political situation of the African Union. Somaliland is practically it’s own country, with its own immigration procedures, currency, and easy way of life (no need to travel with a group of machine-gun carrying youth, as is the case in Somalia proper).

Getting There, Part I

Regular readers may recall that I first attempted Somaliland a couple months back, but was blocked by an unreliable travel agency and a questionable airline. This time, I switched agencies and airlines, but still almost got stuck. Up to the night I arrived in Nairobi from the Central African Republic, I still had no ticket for the early morning flight the next day.

Fortunately, this time everything worked out well. I rolled up to the African Express check-in counter at 5:30am and was able to buy a ticket in cash. $420 would get me to and from Berbera, Somaliland, via Mogadishu, with an additional stop in Wajir, Kenya on the return.

African Express offers no Frequent Flyer benefits or other travel hacking opportunities, so by making the mistake of boarding late I headed to the back of the plane—way back, to the very last row, as every seat was taken and the overhead bins were jammed with luggage and cargo from returning Somalis.

All Abord for Mogadishu (et al)

African Express

Questionable in-seat emergency instructions

A Colorful Passenger

Everyone was crammed in and we sat for another hour as the sun warmed up, but I was glad to be getting underway. I’d finally make it to Somalia! We eventually took off, flew for an hour and a half, then landed in Mogadishu. I was excited about landing in a city I’d read so much about (virtually nothing positive, unfortunately) and also happy that I wasn’t staying there.

We took off again, flew for another hour, then landed in my real destination: Berbera, Somaliland. Success!

Getting There, Part II

For better or worse, the journey that had begun with a 4:30am wakeup call to get to the African Express ticket counter wasn’t over. I was traveling to Hargeisa, the capital and major city of Somaliland, but until that morning, I didn’t realize that African Express flew only to Berbera, a much smaller, coastal city. (I later learned that the runway in Hargeisa is too small to accommodate the plane from African Express, though other airlines with smaller planes are able to use it.)

The two cities are connected by highway, but it’s at least a three-hour journey each way. This is kind of like flying to Seattle to go to Portland—possible, but not really ideal. And in the horn of Africa, a three-hour journey is a lot different than jumping on Amtrak or renting a car and heading down I-5.

Oops. I decided to look on the bright side: traveling via Somali minibus would definitely give me a chance to experience more of the local culture. Otherwise, I might have been tired and headed straight for my hotel, but this way, I’d have more of a chance to see Somaliland as most people see it.

Traveling in Somaliland: Notes from a Real Source

I’m always impressed with the people who read AONC, and after my last attempted visit to Somaliland, I heard from a young reader who recently spent a year teaching in a school there. Sophia wrote in to advise me on things to do on my next trip. (She also advised me not to attempt to travel on Jubba Airways again, a recommendation I was happy to take.)

With her permission, I’m sharing some of her notes here in case anyone else ends up in this part of the world.

Ambassador Hotel has the best coffee in the country (Maansoor hotel comes in a close second place). The other places to go for coffee are the Ethiopian cafes that cater to migrant workers and refugees. These are also worth visiting because they have very good food.

Somali food mainly consists of meat (goat, beef, or camel) and rice or potatoes. If you want camel meat (definitely worth trying), ask at your hotel—they’ll know the best places to get it. One cafe that specializes in camel meat is near the livestock market in Hargeisa, which is also quite cool. Livestock is one of Somaliland’s main exports, so markets like this one represent an important part of the economy and culture.

Finally, my favorite restaurant is called Daus Cafe. Run by Somali-Canadians out of a house near the downtown, the place serves up fresh food (best burgers in Hargeisa, hands down!). It’s seen as a secret hangout spot for members of the returned Somali diaspora, and speaking with some of them is a good way to get a sense of contemporary culture and politics in Somaliland. There are also a lot of foreigners who work in the various aid and development projects around the city. You might be able to find it by asking at Ambassador—one of the women who owned Daus was related to the people who own Ambassador (everyone seems to be related—clan is a major part of life in Somaliland).

Other things to do:

Waheen Market in downtown Hargeisa. Chaotic, congested, and colorful. Closed on Fridays.

Hargeisa School for the Deaf. A school run by local volunteers in the capital. Trains the hearing impaired in different trades and vocational skills (for example, henna). It is the first and only school in the country that remotely caters to students with special needs. Ahmed Shire is the contact person, but you can probably talk to people at Ambassador about arranging a visit.

Abaarso Tech. This is the school where I worked. It has two facilities—one in Hargeisa and one in the village of Abaarso, 20 minutes outside the city. The Abaarso campus is definitely worth checking out. Started as a premier English language boarding school by former Wall Street exec Jonathan Starr, Abaarso Tech is home to some of the most dedicated students in the world. The teachers are all native English speakers. The school is an interesting example of DIY development (think 3 Cups of Tea, a la Somaliland).The son of the owner of Ambassador is a student at Abaarso—they may be able to help you arrange transport there.

Las Geel. These are cave paintings located about an hour outside of Hargeisa. Securing a permit can be a bit difficult, so email me if you need help, or ask someone in Hargeisa. They can probably point you in the right direction. The person responsible for maintaining the site is an archaeologist named Sada Mire. Very interesting lady. Definitely talk to her if you get the chance.

***

For the rest of my brief visit I was happy to follow as much of Sophia’s itinerary as I could, with the exception of eating camel, a dish that isn’t normally on my menu. However, four years of vegetarianism were briefly threatened when my guides stopped for a meal on the ride in and I was presented with a big bowl of goat. No offense to any goat-lovers or Paleo followers, but even if I did still eat animals, I think goat would be at the bottom of my list, right next to camel.

Happily, there was also a big bowl of rice, so I was able to successfully deter eating most of the goat in lieu of being really excited about rice with my guides. (“I love rice! Thank you SO much.”)

Homeward

Coming home, I had to reverse the process I had come in on—all the way back to Berbera (three hours by minibus, plus two additional hours waiting for the minibus), three hours waiting at the tiny airport, a long boarding process by airport shuttle bus, a flight to Mogadishu, another flight to Wajir, and finally to Nairobi, where I had—wait for it—five hours of sitting in the terminal before my midnight flight to London.

I often get tired when I travel, but I was even more exhausted than usual that day. After arriving in London I flew to the U.S. and was thrilled to travel on Virgin Atlantic for the first time in several years. I smiled at the difference in experiences: thanks to Frequent Flyer Miles, I traveled in Upper Class and enjoyed a nice meal with wine and dessert. I took a nap in my lie-flat seat and said several prayers of gratitude, while sipping a Bailey’s on the rocks.

Flying through Heathrow’s Terminal 3 before Christmas, I felt a bit of culture shock compared to declining my bowl of goat and riding Somali-style through one of the world’s most interesting countries just the day before. Then in the U.S., I met Jolie and we went to vacation-land for our Annual Review, another big contrast from where I had been.

I don’t think it’s bad to go on vacation or enjoy nice things. The reality is that there will always be people who have more than others (“the poor will always be with us”). Instead I think it’s important to remember the poor, to think about our place in the world and what we can do to to help.

Hearing Sophia’s story about volunteering in Somaliland was inspiring. It was a tough trip for me, a seasoned traveler, and personally I couldn’t imagine living there for a year. I was glad to visit, and I was glad to come home.

This trip brought me to just 16 countries left. I’ll be heading to my next two in just another two weeks, right after launching the Unconventional Guide to Publishing on January 10th.

More on that project next week. But first… a nap.

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Portland Area: The AONC Holiday Party is tomorrow night! A few tickets are still available—and we’re even giving away a hammock.

As part of the Annual Review series, I look back at everywhere I went in 2011.

As usual, it’s a long list! Despite a lull when I spent several months at home writing a book and preparing for WDS, I still made it to a decent amount of places.

All told, I made it to at least thirty countries, including twenty that were new to me. Highlights included a visit to a gorilla reserve in the Eastern Congo and running a half-marathon in Cuba, my final country in the Americas. I also traveled to every province in Canada for the conclusion of my first book tour, and lots of U.S. cities for various meetings, talks, transit stops, and adventures.

In rough chronological order, here’s everywhere I went in 2011:

Afghanistan, Iran, Libya, East Timor, North Korea, Monaco, Angola, Madagascar, Comoros, Rwanda, Burundi, Congo (Kinshasa), Gabon, Marshall Islands, Micronesia, Palau, Uzbekistan, Australia, Mauritania, Ethiopia, Kyrgyzstan, Djibouti, Cuba, Central African Republic, Somaliland, and South Sudan

Note: this is the list of new countries. I also visited approximately 15 countries I’d been to before, on every continent except South America and Antarctica.

A Few Highlights

• Completed an “Axis of Evil” tour to Afghanistan, Libya, and Iran
• Successfully arrived in Angola without a visa
• Nearly got stranded in Comoros, but fortunately made it out (a tough one)
• Began my adventures in several Pacific islands (Palau, Micronesia, Marshall Islands)
• Got shut out of Nauru, but detoured to Australia
• Visited the world’s newest country, South Sudan
• Visited the gorillas in the Eastern Congo
• Ran the half-marathon in Cuba with Stephanie (that’s her photo in this post… see more here.)
• Traveled in a Somali bus for two three-hour trips (this just happened last week; full story in January)

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Update on the Journey to Every Country

The reason I go on many of these crazy trips is because of the quest to visit every country in the world. I began this journey about five years ago, and I’ve been dutifully traveling the world ever since.

Much to my surprise, I’m not falling behind on the goal—I’ve had plenty of hardships along the way, but I’m now well on track to finish in April 2013. In fact, I’ll end December with only 16 countries to go. Woop woop!

Yeah, I’m psyched… but I’m also a little afraid and uncertain of the future. Traveling the world has been a big part of my identity for a long time, and while I expect to keep wandering after 2013, there’s no doubt that some things will be different. I’m still processing what these means, and I’m sure I’ll be doing so for some time.

I’d usually say something like “next year will be even more intense,” but this time it may be different, since I’m down to less than 20 countries to go. I’ll still be traveling a lot over the next year, but the itineraries will become more specific. I’ll be visiting Sudan, Guinea Bissau, Turkmenistan, and several other countries that can be challenging to get to. I’ll also be preparing for the big finale in 2013. Everything is on track! And I’m still having fun.

Your Turn

Feel free to share your own travel list, high point, or misadventure of 2011. And by the way, don’t worry if you haven’t been to many countries this year… remember, I’ve been doing this a while.

I’m grateful I can do this and looking forward to another great year of travel in 2012.

What about you—where did you go in 2011?

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New to AONC? Check out The Art of Non-Conformity book, now on sale at Amazon for just $10.19.

Last weekend, I finally made it to Cuba!

It was a significant trip for me, since Cuba was my final country in all of the Americas. I now have only 19 total countries remaining, and this was an especially fun one.

During my time on the island, I ran a half-marathon with a friend, spent another couple days walking around Havana, and made sure to sample mojitos from as many restaurants as possible.

Keep reading for the full report, or click any image for a larger version…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How to Visit Cuba as an American

When I came back and mentioned I was in Cuba, lots of messages popped up for me on Twitter and Google+ asking the same question: “How did you do that? I thought Americans can’t visit Cuba?”

Ah yes, here’s the thing. Americans aren’t “supposed” to visit Cuba without a license, which is kind of like a visa. But it’s weird, because the visa isn’t issued by Cuba—on their side, Cuba is happy to welcome Americans with no hassle and very little paperwork. Immigration officials will even go out of their way to avoid stamping your passport to ensure there is no evidence of your visit. Instead, it’s the U.S. government that doesn’t want its citizens visiting the small island 90 miles south of Florida.

When I first began my travel quest five years ago, I always assumed I would wait until I could get a license to visit Cuba. After hearing reports from many other travelers, however, I finally decided to just go for it. Almost every report said the same thing: the travel restriction is no big deal, no one has ever been prosecuted for visiting Cuba, and besides—it’s an amazing place. Don’t wait!

With that advice in mind, I reconciled myself to visiting Havana without the license, and I almost made it there earlier this year during the Axis of Evil trip when I visited Libya, Afghanistan, and Iran. On the way home from Kabul, I stopped off in Chicago and flew down to Cancun for the connection. Alas, my AA flight was two hours late due to a maintenance issue. While we were taxiing in on the tarmac, I saw the Cubana jet take off for Havana. Foiled!

I had been traveling for two weeks by then and had already made it to several police states, so instead of waiting a few more days for the next available flight, I spent the night in Cancun and returned home to the U.S. the next morning.

Visit with Wandering Zito

It was probably for the better that I didn’t visit earlier this year, because when I started planning the return attempt, my longtime friend Stephanie Zito decided to come along. Stephanie has been to more than 100 countries of her own, and was one of my original inspirations when deciding to visit every country in the world.

Traveling with Stephanie is fun because we are each experienced travelers in our own way, but we both tend to forget things. For example, even though we had planned to run the half-marathon, neither of us had done anything about registering for it before we got there. No problem, right? We had cash with us and figured that they wouldn’t turn away two healthy runners who showed up at the runners’ area the night before.

Unfortunately, the first guy we talked with didn’t seem especially eager to help. Our cumulative Spanish was fairly limited to phrases like “Dos más mojitos,” which didn’t help us with this guy who ignored our entreaties and kept motioning us to leave.

Steph and I looked at each other and silently decided on a common travel strategy: when things aren’t going your way, wait it out and see what happens. Just keep standing around looking friendly, and more often than not, all will be well.

The strategy worked. The marathon organizer, who also didn’t speak much English, came out to see us and kept repeating “Welcome to Cuba!” over and over.

“Dos más mojitos!” I replied.

We were now on friendly terms, but still had no way to register for the race. Eventually a third person was fetched, who grew up in Miami and was happy to help us sort out our registration. Success! We were officially ready to go.

The Half-Marathon: Tour De Havana

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning we woke up early and headed for the race entrance. At least two thousand runners were there, mostly from Cuba and other Latin American countries. A troupe of dancers was positioned on the steps of the capitol building, and everyone was full of energy.

We set off at 7am, and the crowd thinned out after the first kilometer or two. After the first 5k or so, I was slightly worried as the temperature rose. I usually run at least 10 miles every Sunday, so a half-marathon (13.1 miles) shouldn’t be a huge challenge, but running in the rainy Pacific Northwest is a lot different than running on an island in the sun. Fortunately, all was well—after warming up around 7:30, it was still hot for the rest of the morning, but never become unmanageable.

We ran past the seafront, into New Havana, and through a bunch of different neighborhoods. We had heard that the water stations were sparse and poorly run, but this wasn’t the case at all: Almost every kilometer or two, eager volunteers were handing out small bags of water that you open with your teeth and then drink.

We ran a slow pace, which was a good decision since neither of us felt super exhausted toward the end. In fact, we rounded the corner to the finish sooner than we were expecting. All of a sudden, it was over. A volunteer marked our number as completed, and another volunteer gave us a medal. Victory!

At the end of the race, several runners approached us and asked for our shoes. We had read online that this request was common, and when we saw the shoes that most Cuban runners wore for their races, it wasn’t a hard choice. We picked out two guys based on the poor quality of their shoes, made sure ours were a good fit for them, then handed them over.

Havana Photo Walk

After the marathon, I felt slightly dehydrated and took a short nap after drinking lots of water. Stephanie has endless energy, so she left to explore the city and take photos. After a while she came back to fetch me and I joined her for the second half of the excursion.

My grandpa was in Cuba in 1941 right before Pearl Harbor. The funny thing is, I’m not sure how much has changed. Due to the U.S. embargo, almost every car in Cuba dates back to the 1950s or even before. Walking around Havana is like visiting a car show, although some cars need a little work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Random Facts

• The Cancun airport has no transit section, despite seeing a lot of travelers transit through to third countries, usually Cuba. Ironically, the Havana airport does have a transit section… for everyone traveling on to Russia or China, I guess.
• There are essentially two economies in Cuba. Our trip wasn’t super-cheap because we paid tourist prices: taxis are mostly fixed-price, and restaurants are clearly divided into tourist spots and non-tourist spots.
• With employment opportunities being fairly limited, almost every restaurant in Cuba has a band. There is no Burger King in Havana, but if there were, I’m sure it would have a full salsa band at the entrance as customers ordered their Whoppers.
• The unofficial “mojito index” ranged in price from $2 to $6, depending on how far one walks from the main tourist areas. Perfectly reasonable.
• If you’re an American hoping to visit Cuba, check out Cuba Travel Network. They arranged my flights and hotel, and ensured that my credit card was charged in a country other than Cuba. (This wasn’t a sponsored trip of any kind, and I paid full price.)

***

The only problem with our trip came when we almost missed our flight back to Cancun and on to Dallas. Yikes! It was totally my fault, as it almost always is. For some reason I thought we were leaving at 3:15pm, but our flight (the only one to Cancun) actually left at 1:15. Oops.

Thankfully, after a mad dash to the airport, a successful attempt at jumping the queue at the Cubana Airlines check-in counter while avoiding eye contact with fellow passengers, and impatiently waiting through a long immigration process, we made it to the gate just in time. In fact, we even had a moment while boarding to exchange our final ten Cuban dollars for Mexican pesos, which could be put to good use with another friend of mine in Cancun.

If you’re looking for a place where time stopped in 1941 and hasn’t looked back, check out Cuba. As many independent travelers said to me, don’t wait.

Oh, and… only 19 countries to go! Wow.

Question: where are you going on your next trip?

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I’ll share more on the experience next week, but for now, here’s a preview.