Gradually, God tries out all the shades of light red, orange, dark red and purple to purple and finally gray. Within half an hour, the light is switched off, and the rock lies as a black shadow against the dark blue horizon.
Portugal, this last bastion of ancient Europe, had accumulated a complete empire over the centuries. Men like Luís Bertado were the oil that kept Portugal's big engine running.
The still-dominating silence of the morning gradually makes strange calls, never heard of me. Mendicant in blue robes and with Vietnamese pointed hats made of reeds in their wooden clogs through the quieter residential district of Kyoto
Fuji behind cherry blossom, Fuji wrapped in clouds, Fuji completely recognizable. Seeing this icon alone relieves every wanderlust of the past months - that's for sure: I arrived in Japan.
Finally we start the train to Asakusabashi, into the largest metropolis in the world: Tokyo.
Back at the starting point of the trail, the cloud cover clears like an invisible finger pointing, sunlight falls through the first gaps and irradiates exactly the Wayna Picchu and the Inca city in front of it.
You can not judge a country by its facade, only by its intrinsic values.
Esfahan is the heart of the ancient Persian Empire and mesmerizes me magically.
With mixed feelings, I am on my way to Iran, the country of which we still know too little and about which too many prejudices circulate.