Uzbekistan fever

Another episode in the adventures of the curly blondes… They call it Uzbekistan. After our promising start in the desert we arrived in Bukhara (Boxara is apparently the more correct spelling for the cultural-historical members of the audience). It’s a city. Quite an old city but definitely a city. Something to do with the Silk Roads we read somewhere. So we had bazaars on every corner, blue mosques and minarettes in between, forts and dungeons, city walls or what was left of it and in total about 3 restaurants mainly catering for group tours. Our first encounter with Central Asian tourism! But admittedly a beautiful city. Probably even more beautiful if one is not ill. Not to say we missed most of it, but we did spent way too long in an overpriced hotel recovering from some smelly bug – was it in the water or the food, or just caused by an overkill in culture?
Last Monday we continued our trip to Samarkand, that other Silk Road giant. Maybe we should mention here we had already seen quite a few mosques with blue tiles. There was more to come. So many blue tiles everywhere one starts to wonder how many bathrooms they have torn down in order to build these huge buildings. But it was impressive and it was fun to climb to the top of a minnaret at Registan (the main blue tiles square in Samarkand) with perfect views over the city. But after this we had enough of blue tiles, especially in combination with death historical figures from long before MTV. So anyway, we had a few beers to reflect on all this old stuff, stayed over in a nice guesthouse (needless to mention here it provided views over another blue tiled mosque), got into some blue-tiled conversation with money-exchangers that couldn’t count, met a nice German couple travelling overland in the kind of Jeep we could only be very jealous of (so we ignored them for as much time as possible after swopping vital information about road conditions) and travelled up further North to the capital. This time we were not so much slowed down by bad roads (well, we are probably just getting used to the potholes and traffic chaos by now) but by the many police controls on the way. It’s usually a matter of just showing documents and a little chitchat about our trip, destination, where we left the children (coming up with original answers here all the time) etc but one copper decided we had been speeding and tried to talk us into paying fines. It’s a Lada for F sake. Anyway, we were saved by some more senior police officer who decided it was too much hassle trying to get money out of us. It’s a Lada for F sake…

We got to Toshkent, the Uzi capital, last Tuesday. Now that IS a city. Couple of million people, no internal logic in traffic or street ’system’, but with a very nice homestay where we would spent more time than we ever planned or wanted. The main reason people visit this place is on transit and to get visa. Now getting a visa is of course not the same as applying for a visa. Indeed, Toshkent is a convenient place for those wanting to waste their time on local bureaucracies. So we had multiple and extended dealings with the Kazakh embassy in an attempt to change the exit date of our existing visa. After two days of begging and not so much pleasing anymore this led to a personal invitation to explain to the ambassador himself why exactly we wanted to visit the country for that long and what we were thinking, really, of doing there. By now these had become Good Questions. But we got what we wanted. Plus the good thing is we haven’t spotted too many blue tiles yet. Getting the documents done for Kyrgyzstan was much easier and fixed in no time – this while the embassy was officially closed. Bravo to the Kyrgszhsz – we are on our way!

Bukhara

Samarkand

It took a little photoshop to get decent pictures for the visa applications.

Impressions from Turkmenistan

Country of Turkmen – not to be confused with Vegas, Dubai or Disneyland

Let’s not give the impression here of Turkmenistan as a bureaucratic country thriving on police controls and road checks that the old Soviet paperworkers would have envied. Nor linger on the complete absence of internet connections or free media whatsoever, or the silly little rules that make daily life such an interesting effort (a curfew for tourists that includes no driving after dark, but also only overnight stays in official hotels and the keen eyes of agents and the ministry of tourism, not to mention all the road rules and the no smoking in public… of course these rules are only active when blue uniforms are around and most importantly are supposed to be ignored in the absence of police). The country is actually amazing, the locals very friendly and curious (yes they have seen Ladas, but not usually driven by curly blondes) and the experience of actually visiting the place is magic.

A long and tiring pothole-fuelled drive on the first day led us to the capital Ashgabat. What a place. Is it the many statues and billboards of a smiling (but now dead) megalomaniac president popping up on every corner and building, the overkill of marble lanes and palaces, the huge artificial waterfalls in the city centre or the colourful dresses of the beautiful women around here that makes it such an incomprehensible experience? While waiting for our exit visa (don’t ask) we explored this city of complete madness and confusion. Temperatures rose to over 40 degrees, adding to the bizarre sights of a golden statue of the president which revolves following the sun, next to a huge bronze bull statue in memory of the earthquake that destroyed the city and killed most of it citizens in 1948. Government buildings around here include the Ministry of Fairness and of course the Ministry of Defense. After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, Turkmenistan became blessed with a president that built squares and palaces in the name of independence, while whole areas of town were torn down to make room for even more impressive marble monsters and the renaming of streets, buildings and any concrete really after Turkmenbashi the Great (eg the president himself). What can one say? This president was not just a great leader (to be compared with Lenin, Stalin and Ataturk in the words of our guide) but also an eager author. The second most important book in the world, after the Koran, is the Ruhnama, in which the president gives his citizens guidance on spiritual and practical matters. We couldn’t resist buying an English language copy so don’t hesitate to sign up for some wise pieces of advice.

A lot of stuff is state sponsored here, and locals pay an almost symbolic rate of about $5 a year altogether for gas, electricity and phone (which is not too bad with average wages of some $120 a month). The best thing of all for us is the petrol prices. A 40 liter tank cost us 15.000 Manat which is about $0.60. Our British friends with the van paid less than a dollar for 160 liter of diesel. Don’t you just love dictatorial regimes. And spare jerrycans to fill up.

With new visa in our passports we continued our way to Mary, a city not too far away from the ancient site of Merv. Impressive remains of a citadel and fire temple, city walls, holy places from different times and religions… Considered to be the fifth civilization in the world (after Egypt, Mesopotamia, China and India – or was it The Netherlands?) and conveniently located at one of the crossroads of the Silk Roads there is still a lot of excavation to be done in this area. Simply a very humble feeling to walk around the mudbrick fortresses and holy sites with superb views over surrounding villages with their minarets.

A scenic drive through the desert brought us to the Northern border with Uzbekistan. Of course the Turkmen border crossing was one big paperwork exercise again, but we managed to get away within a few hours, while the Uzbek border took some time because all customs forms were in Russian. Yes we are learning, but not that quickly. The big bonus was our first overnight stay in the desert. Think tent in the sand and sand in the tent, great stars in the sky at dark, proper camping food on a little gas stove (courtesy of Angie), leftover Turkmen beer and wine followed by Moldavian red from 1994 (yuk), scary sounds at night and sheep herds passing by in the morning. Ideal.

This morning we arrived in Bukhara, one of the two main ancient Silk Road cities in Uzbekistan. More stories and some pictures later, as we ´re facing a temperamental internet connection again.

Ferry to Turkmenistan

We made it!!! After 3 days waiting in the port of Baku we finally got on the ferry around midnight on Friday am. The engines seemed to have started, we went asleep in our grotty cabin, woke up some 8 hours later with land in sight and jumped around on the upper deck in utter excitement. Only to find out we were just a few nautical miles out on the Caspian Sea and the land we were facing was…. Baku. Bad weather, bad engines, not enough bribes paid¬¬ who knows. So we went back to our cabin, waiting and enjoying the leaking tap and very particular smells on the ship. Two doors down the young ladies were trying to do some business, which was a bit tough given there were more prostitutes on board than passengers. Thanks to the $50 ´parking fee´ for our Lada (to be paid in cash to the captain and not to be spoken about) we could walk around the ferry freely. Phil and Angie, our British co-travellers for this part of the trip, slept in their van between the cargo trains so competition over the best views was steep. Anyway. After 48 hours some shore came in sight. Could it be true?

Saturday the 12th, just before midnight, we rolled off the ferry into the harbour of Turkmenbashi, the second largest city in Turkmenistan. Our guide had been waiting for us for a while, and we were welcomed with a smiling ´finally´. Tourists can only travel through the country with a guide, and we were lucky with our young lady Aylar who got us through customs in only two hours which was a quick one considering all the paperwork to be filled out, and the dazzling amount of separate fees and receipts (road tax, petrol compensation, disinfection of the car, green cards, bank fees and document handling fees… and probably a few other things that made a lot of sense). Was it because our guide knew the officials or because everybody was tired? In any case we got away without the luggage search we were warned about in every guidebook and website. The plan was to stay over in a hotel in Turkmenbashi but because of some get-together of local presidents (well, Putin was there too) to talk energy politics all hotels were fully booked. So we had a lovely time on another concrete campground in the harbour. Because of the delay on the ferry (the crossing tends to take 12 hours, not 48 hours) we arrived on the day before our visa expired, so that was another little thing to take care of.

Lada troubles in the Stans

In Baku our faithful Lada Niva got new brake pads and new rubbers for the drive line to prevent the shaking of the transferbox. In our beloved Turkmenistan our Lada experienced difficulties with starting the engine. It was indeed time for another car repair in Turkmenbashi. After two visits to an enormous hall where every local car repair shop had its own bridge, our Lada came out with new fuel filters (there are two of them), new spark plugs and a new lit on the brake fluid container. This did not solve the problems though, but the proud grin on our Lada cold not be missed by other road users and pedestrians.
Next day in another local car repair shop in Merv the mechanic said that the problems were actually caused by bad fuel quality and indeed after a new full tank of patrol and a bit of driving the problems disappeared. You can’t blame the Turkmen for their bad fuel, it only costs 0,01 eurocent a liter.

No pictures of all this, instead a picture filling up the Lada with dodgy petrol.

Too much Baku

A staccato post this time but here are some hints:

- Stuck in Baku, our beloved capital of oil smell and now also stormy weather
- Visa for Azerbaijan about to expire
- Lots of hassle and dollars to get ferry tickets for boarding old sovjet ship to Turkmenbashi yesterday at 4pm
- Ferry was there, we were there, tickets were there, custom officials were there, police was there… and there was a gastrain going onboard the cargo ferry (which doesnt do passengers in Lada’s on a big scale) creating some safety issues
- So ferry went without us
- New ferry arrived a bit later, with destination Kazachkstan this time, which we decided to not board (see ticket hassle and dollar problem)
- Spent the night in tent
- Stormy weather arrived
- No ferry arrived today due to mentioned stormy weather, maybe tomorrow
- Hanging around, chatting to officials, coffee, coffee and tea
- Borrowed laptop from nice Brits enjoying similar conditions with us, and borrowed wifi connection of nearby hotel
While we are not supposed to leave customs but thats ok…

So far so good. Customs people are friendly, coffee keeps us going, nice co-travellers’ company and we even saw some sun today. But our visa for Turkmenistan are near expiry date too so we are trying to think really hard now what to do. Travel agency in Ashgabat mentioned something of a persona non grata status if we are still in Turkmenistan with expired visa – which would be a pretty cool stamp to have in our passports if it wasn’t for all the US dollars it takes to get this status.

Suggestions welcome!

To look up our campground in Google earth (we are based between the rail tracks and you can see the ferry here that is not there for us):
Lat: 40.372022°
Long: 49.865297°

First there’s chaos, then there’s Azerbaijan

So we thought Georgia was beautiful… until we hit Azerbaijan! It took a bit of effort to get there but it was worth every stamp on the paperwork. The border crossing from Georgia was a right pain – or an interesting traveller’s experience in more positive terms. We got our first ’straf’ at customs (funny how Russian and Dutch languages coincide) because we took a different border crossing from the one in our documents. We had to wait for two hours – time happily spent with border ‘officials’ asking for beer, cigarettes and dollars (offers we kindly declined, although we did offer ultra light cigarettes and mineral water which was not quite what they had in mind). After we had done our time the more official exit from Georgia was smooth. And then there was entry into Azerbaijan… Did we have any books with us? Had we been to Armenia? But apparently they loved our Lada so much we got a visa extension (of more than the 3 days transit) to take the car into the country, which is rather useful given we need the machine for a bit longer. After all the paperwork was done we had to see ‘the doctor’ for a health check. Hilarious. Using a checklist translated into English we had to answer yes to: ‘Temperature normal? Dizziness normal? Vomiting normal? Nose normal?’ and two minutes and five dollars later we were officially healthy and fit to travel into the country.

But the place is absolutely heaven. Beautiful mountains in the North, green hills and idyllic views over the grazing herds everywhere. Our first night we stayed over in a caravanserai in Seki and visited the Khan’s palace there. Gradually we woke up out of the dream approaching the capital Baku. From green to brown to grey… the city is a dusty desert and ecological nightmare. On the coast of the Caspian Sea, Baku smells oils and breaths oil – but then petrol is easy to find and this is the first country where our lada juice is actually cheaper than drinking water. The Old Town is nice though and from our concrete meloch called hotel we do have nice views over the city and seafront.

Within an hour after arrival in Baku we bumped into Phil and Angie, a British couple with an impressive white van (we are travelling through Turkmenistan together) and an American guy called Edde who’s doing a similar route on his motorbike (?!). We have heard all the horror stories so we’re very curious to find out about our next destination. With a bit of luck we have tickets for the cargo ferry leaving tomorrow afternoon to Turkmenbashi, some 12-18 of fun across the Caspian Sea. But first, of course, our Lada needs another repair round of some sort to prepare her for the tough tracks in Central Asia. All very exciting, and we hope to tell you more once we get into Uzbekistan in a week.

Phil and Angie’s stories

The new Niva, not as nice as the old one though and not available outside Russia and former Russian countries. Well, not yet anyway!

Views from Georgia

After a detour from Tbilisi to the Southern border for a visit to cave monastery Davit Gareji, and smelling some Azeri air, we arrived in the Northeast province of Kakheti, which is known for er…. more wine. It has been pouring down all day but the views over the mountains in Dagestan and Chechnya are impressive (and we are happy to be on this side of those mountains). We visited yet another church, monastery, cathedral, aristocratic country house, academy and some villages in between. Oh and a vinyard of course to sample some local wine. This is our last day in Georgia before heading to oil boomtown Baku to take a ferry across the Caspian Sea to Turkmenistan. More news from there!

Lada on hill top

Movie: View over the mountains of Dagestan

Lubrication day for Lada

Our biggest hangover today was caused by our Lada… But then with a bit of TLC and general pampering the thing seems to be rolling again. At least our vocabulary of Russian words has been extended substantially now: in addition to booking into a homestay, ordering food and praising the country we are also fluent now in describing all the spare parts of our machina and asking for unleaded petrol. And Georgian car repair shops are so much more female friendly! The nudes on the wall are replaced by yet another portrait of Stalin and we are not allowed to pay for anything – such great service!

Welcome to Georgia

How can one ever describe Georgia? For sure the weirdest place so far but an absolute highlight. Land of many Ladas and eternal nights of vodka and wine (which also explains our silence over the last few days; we were drunk or hangover or some state in between). 5 days ago we crossed the border to arrive in Batumi, a once popular resort on the black sea coast but only a fraction of the grandeur is left these days. Still great food. Khachapuri is some super fattening cheese bread found on every street corner and fills you right up. Highly recommendable. Next stop was Gori – known for only one person: Stalin was born here and grew up in this town. Many sites are named after this ‘great person’ (as many locals refer to the man) and unlike in most other former Soviet states the Stalin statues are still standing. We visited the Stalin museum in Gori, which is mostly interesting for what it leaves out: many pictures of a young and rather handsome looking Stalin and his great deeds for the nation, not a word about the Hitler pact or gulags. Outside the museum, which also hosts his original home, was the train cabin in which he travelled across the Soviet Union and to Yalta and Potsdam. Bulletproof and with most original furniture still in there. Our local new best friend told us he got hold of the key to the train during the Rose revolution and had some wild parties in there. Yes history is still alive here.

So far the sober part of the story. During our first night in Gori we went to a restaurant (luckily in the same building as our hotel room – explanation to follow) and were sat next to a big Georgian family enjoying dinner there. After our careful inspection of the menu (where would we be without the LP translation of this totally uncomprehensible language) to make sure we wouldn’t order brains or chopped up stomach, we ordered some ’safe’ dishes. Our big Georgian family was not impressed with our food choices and within minutes our table was filled with dishes leftover from their meal. Oh and some home-produced local wine, which is served is one litre units here. So there we were eating chopped pork legs, while our neighbours proposed yet another toast. Wine kept flowing, the table grew bigger with new best friends, some dancing and singing kicked off and of course the toasting went on and on and on… a rather impressive tradition where the tamada or party manager brings elaborate wishes for Georgia, travellers, good health, beautiful women and plenty of children, those who are not with us etc etc etc, followed by drinking a glass of wine ad fundum. The experience was a good indication of nights to follow.

In the not too early morning we met up with two of our new friends, who took us on a daytour in and around town. But of course first we needed a collective hangover cure. So in the black Audi A4 of one of the boys we drove in topspeed to a smart little restaurant out of town (think blinded car windows, latest dance version of the Georgian national anthem out of the speakers, two little macho boys in the front seats and two very nervous tourists in the back). So whats better for hangover than more booz (by the way the only word we learned in Georgian is bagmani – leave that one to you to figure out). The right remedy is 3 shots of vodka and a pint of lager (‘not more than 3 shots’), in combination with some delicious meat balls called khingali. Great for breakfast. Of course this was followed by more beer, more wine and more vodka. Man oh man, life can be tough.

After another feast we drove to Borjomi for some natural mineral springs – heavily needed. Of course it didn’t take long before bumping into another friendly Georgian, who happened to live in the capital Tbilisi and who took us to his home where we stayed last night. A rather depressing experience to witness where almost two million people live in the capital – old style concrete tower blocks, no hot water or heating, no gas and the place is a dusty mess. But the food was great, our host a lovely person and of course there was more wine… Today we strolled through the old town of Tbilisi – very pretty, with many churches and other old sites, some hip cafes and relaxed areas… actually rather peaceful now apart from a few little begging boys and a big crowd demonstrating for social justice (its 1 May after all). We will probably hide for a while and pretend not to speak any other language but Welsh to make sure we don’t end up with another bagmani in the morning…

In front of Stalin’s birth house with Georgian friend David

Stalin’s train coach

Old things which are enjoyed better with a beer.

Tbilisi outskirts where we stayed one night.

Tbilisi

On our way to Baku.