Paradise in which there is no way to leave territory — hell for a traveler. - Viktor Pinchuk

Any route, be it Africa, Asia, or the islands of Oceania, I go twice: the first time in reality, the second — when I write about it. Everything that happened: adventures, joys, problems — live now in my memoirs, travel notes, in the imagination of those who have read my books and articles. It will stay when I am gone into the world of shadows.

Waking up early in the morning, I was seriously scared, deciding that my company had gone to the military training — therefore, I will receive a scolding from the senior in rank for oversleeping. Crawled under the bed for footcloths and at that moment... remembered that I was not in the army now. No, this is not a barracks, but a room in a Georgian hotel, costing five euro’s per bed per day. Delighted with the return of his memory, crossed himself mentally and, having dressed, went out onto the balcony that adorned the facade of the building. (About the hotel at the bus station in Tbilisi)

Woke up in the morning. Outside the window is a dull landscape of a small city where people live like moles in burrows. An ordinary day, everything as always. But the ghost of doubt still loomed in consciousness, not wanting to disappear with the first cry of the roosters. For the sake of what I wandered and suffered for six months: starved in Papua New Guinea, slept on the sidewalk in the company of Indonesian homeless people, shaking from cold at night in China? After all, I will not be awarded a chocolate medal and a material allowance as for an international tramp will not be appointed. Who makes me do this? Maybe my own stupidity? But no, this is her sister — conscience. And I got back to work.