Dr. Erik Travels is an American doctor, writer and adventurer working abroad in major medical hotspots around the globe– Seeing the world one patient at a time. These are his stories.
Beijing’s ancient alleys, overwhelming crowds, and a final feast of Da Dong’s famous duck mark the start of our journey. Between culture shock and comfort food, this might be the last truly great meal for a while.
From stern Mongolian attendants to a chaotic Chinese dining car, the first leg of our train journey mixes comfort, confusion, and a smuggling shell game at the border — proof our planning leaves much to chance.
In Mongolia’s vast steppes, we find “Buddha’s Country”: breathtaking skies, nomads with cell phones, satellite dishes outside gers, and a revival of Buddhist culture. Modern tools blend with ancient traditions to give the countryside new strength.
Visa dates two days off, no food or cups for vodka, and surrounded by smugglers far better organized than us — the border crossing between Mongolia and Russia makes us feel like true idiots abroad.
Visa dates two days off, no food or cups for vodka, and surrounded by smugglers far better organized than us — the border crossing between Mongolia and Russia makes us feel like true idiots abroad.
Bangkok rain, a twitchy driver on yaba, and me clinging to the back of a Suzuki-50 through flooded streets. Why choose a cab when a questionable motorcycle ride offers survival lessons, laughs, and a crash course in Thai street logic?
Visa dates two days off, no food or cups for vodka, and surrounded by smugglers far better organized than us — the border crossing between Mongolia and Russia makes us feel like true idiots abroad.
In a former KGB officers’ block off Lenina Prospekt, our “safe house” offers blast doors, cold showers, and live surveillance. Ekaterinburg—where Europe meets Asia, Romanovs fell, and Yeltsin rose—turns our tourist cover into a spy caper and early escape.
Visa dates two days off, no food or cups for vodka, and surrounded by smugglers far better organized than us — the border crossing between Mongolia and Russia makes us feel like true idiots abroad.
Between a brass-and-mahogany museum car and a sleek bullet train, we side with slow travel: samovars, proper plates, and thick carpets—plus a babushka who decks a shirtless soldier. Speed impresses, but the old rails steal our hearts.
