Story: The Club They're All Dying To Join!

There's always one place in every town or city where everybody who is anybody hangs out. Studio 54 in New York during the heady days of disco immediately springs to mind. Even in the world of celebrity, however, there remains one special place reserved only for the chosen few - Club 27.

Jim Morrison may not have been the first permanent guest, but there's no doubting that you'll find him with a prominant spot at the bar. Alongside him you will find Janis Joplin at the jukebox and Jimi Hendrix shooting some pool, as well as a host of the other forever young and painfully cool who checked out before checking in at the tender age of 27. Purists will point out that Joplin was 26 when she hung up her coat at the reception, but then even the most observant of bouncers misses the occassional minor.

Many look at the 'Big Three-Oh' or the 'dirty thirty' as the checkpoint in life when the foolishness of youth is supposed to be shook off and the dawn of responsibility is ushered in. For me the number 27 has always held sway. The reason I bring it up now is that next month I will reach this landmark. Now, I am not a rebel without a cause - more like without a clue - but that doesn't mean I don't have my own duty to honour it.

Tradition dictates that you should take more risks in a final attempt at flying up to the sun. The lucky ones, like Jack White of The White Stripes, merely get their wings singed before landing safely. They are grateful to have been invited to the club, but happy to have avoided filling in the application form for full membership. So, in homage to the many who have gone the whole hog, this year I have decided to make my attempt to catch a small glipse of the shindig.

At the moment, I live in Kyrgyzstan and will do so for the next 10 months. I'm not sure how I ended up here, just another example of how I've drifted along, going from one thing to the next with very little forethought. I had lived in China for 18 months and when it came time to leave, I knew that I wanted to traverse the Silk Road from Xi'an to Kashgar. It then became obvious that I would need a job at the end of the trip so I went online and found a job with a reputable school in Bishkek. However, from now on I will drift no-more (but don't hold me to that too much) for I have a plan. The Plan. It involves the right amount of adventure and risk to do justice to those who have gone before, but should hopefully let me come out the other end relatively unscathed.

It is my intention to follow the remainder of the old Silk Road all the way to Istanbul, Turkey. To do so will mean exploring a region as far removed from the 'banana pancake' trail as you'll find anywhere in Asia. I'll be searching for Borat in Kazakhstan, road tripping along the Pamir Highway (the Roof of the World) in Tajikistan, dodging bullets in Afghanistan and bouncing around Pakistan, Uzbekistan, Iran (istan) and what would be Kurdistan.

While I'm sneaking a peek I'll say 'hi' to Jimi and the guys. I just hope they accept my apologises for not sticking around too long. After all, there are plenty more parties out there to attend.