Chengde Signs

2009 09 15 – Day 81 – Chengde

I agree! It would be entirely inappropriate in the courtyard of a temple, as would this:

Can we jump up? Or fall down? Or climb down?

While wandering the palaces of Bìshǔ Shānzhuāng, I became a bit exasperated at the unimaginative information boards, too many of which stole small portions of my life by just describing what my eyes would be telling me if they weren't busy reading the stupid text! All was forgiven however, when I came across this beauty:

The sign reads: “The former address of the Emporer's toilet.”
Now I'm no postie, but I'm sure this address received plenty of 'Special Deliveries'!

While waiting for the train onward from Chengde to Dandong I spied the sign beneath the tv, which reads 'DO NOT GOB ANYWHERE'. This tickled me, partly because I was surprised to run into that particular slang verb, and partly because it seemed the perfect word to describe the rather too enthusiastic and vocal clearing of Chinese throats all over their streets. I had seen and heard enough of such action to feel it was a problem, even though I understand the situation is much improved in recent years.

Ill on Arrival

2009 08 06 – Day 41 - Almaty

Other than dealing with each moment as it came, I'm not quite sure how I made it from the border to Chimkent, and then survived several hours waiting for my overnight train to Almaty. It's times like this that travelling with another person would be beneficial, at least you'd have someone to watch your stuff while you find a toilet. I think Imodium helped solidify the situation somewhat, but am not sure because the night was not trouble free and by the time we arrived in Almaty I was weak with stomach cramps, lack of sleep, lack of food and from all my energy being used to keep the situation under control. Having spent more than 24 hours on Imodium and still not right, I was keen to follow the instruction leaflet and seek medical attention. Fortunately for me, sharing my compartment was Muslim, an Almaty local and software engineer who had been to Chimkent for it's hot spring health spas, who had been keen to practice his English the day before, and so I had someone to approach for help. Despite his decent English, it still took a shuffle through my ever-useful pocket Russian phrasebook to communicate effectively. Panos. That's what I had. Muslim translated the recommendation of the middle-aged mothers sharing our compartment – Regadron (a prehistoric sounding rehydration powder) in a litre of water, sip all day and rest. No food. It sounded like they knew what they were talking about, but, given my medications instructions, I thought it wise that I still seek medical attention. Muslim generously helped me out in this regard, shepherding me around Almaty until we found an appropriate clinic.
A very necessary visit to the clinics toilet was brightened by this curiously named bin.

Why is this bin a fantasy bin? Who has fantasies about bins!? Maybe it's the 'swing' aspect that really sets it apart.

After a short consultation, and a small fee, I got exactly the same advice the train mums gave, and so purchased some Regadron and set about finding somewhere to stay so I could get on with the serious business of rest and recouperation.

I spent the next day laying in bed, sipping tea and my Regadron laced water, reading, writing my diary and watching Liverpool beat Blackburn 4-2... shame that it was a repeat of last seasons game as the 2009/10 season hadn't started yet.


The ever evolving sky and the calls to prayer of the nearby mosque provided structure to my day.

I later realised this day of doing 'nothing' (which of course wasn't nothing) was badly needed. Regardless of my illness, I needed to rest my brain and body from the rigours of travel. It occurred to me that I would be wise to schedule more days like this, without the illness, in my future travels to help keep my energy levels up and keep me sane.

Leaving Uzbekistan

2009 08 05 – Day 40 – Tashkent to Almaty

Eastward travel to Almaty in Kazakhstan by rail requires a road border crossing an hour or so from Tashkent and another three hours by road on the other side to the nearest city with a station, Chimkent. With no regular transport link crossing the border, Sundowners had arranged for my hotel driver to drop me about hundred metres from the border, as close as general traffic could get, and have someone meet me on the Kazakh side.

A few hundred metres of walking in the rapidly strengthening sun were required to, between and from the border control buildings, which would be fine under normal circumstances, but that morning my stomach had taken a turn for the worse and all my limited energy became focused on keeping the lid on it.

Adding to my suffering at the Uzbek departure point were a confused throng of an eclectic mix of people, ranging from locals with a basket or two of unsettled chickens to some Brits taking part in the Mongol Rally, chasing a short supply of pens to be able to fill out departure cards. The uncomfortable queuing was an exercise in mind over matter. Only in hindsight did I realise that, despite the strong warnings regarding accountability, no one checked the accommodation registration and currency exchange receipts which had dogged my decision making and flexibility.

As with arrival in Uzbekistan, crossing into Kazakhstan I had to declare the value of Rubles and Dollars I was carrying. The baggage scanning machine was a border guard and a table. He looked at my passport and arrival card, looked at me, looked at my rucksack on the table, checked no one else was looking and said “$10”, clearly giving me the choice of an uncomfortable and drawn out inspection of my bag, or easy passage. In other circumstances I would have called his bluff, but my stomach cramps were controlling my brain and it was worth $10 to pass through the border swiftly and cleanly without anything passing out of me swiftly and not so cleanly. Fortunately for me, I only had $35 on me and $10 of that was in $1 bills. The guard didn't much like the look of those, I think people here suspect $1 bills are fakes, and he was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of taking more than half of my Dollars with the $20 note, so he swiped the $5 and dismissed me to his colleague for passport stamping.


The drive from the border to Chimkent coincided with my realisation that nearly all Central Asian vehicles had a cracked windscreen.

After an unpleasant roadside snack of the local sour and salty milk and dry salty milk balls, that my driver was convinced would help my stomach, I was extremely grateful that, particularly as I was ill, I did to not need to squat over this pit toilet.

The few broken wooden slats masquerading as a floor would have made an Indiana Jones rope bridge seem stable.

You Are What You Eat?

2009 08 02 – Day 37 – Samarkand to Bukhara


Many, if not most, of Uzbek dishes involve lamb and, though invariably tastey, are often rich and oily.
The weather had mostly been dry and at least mid to high 30s, which was fairly sweat inducing.
It was on the road trip to Bukhara that I began to think my sweat was beginning to smell of lamb!

Kazakh/Uzbek border crossing

2009 07 30 – Day 34 - Aralsk-Tashkent train

Crossing the border from Kazakhstan to Uzbekistan, a couple of hours from Tashkent, takes place entirely on the train. Guards with big hats, big guns and big alsatians come aboard and check that everything is as it should be before we leave Kazakhstan, including opening wall, floor or ceiling panels if necessary. Then, a few minutes down the track, we go through the whole thing again to enter Uzbekistan. With the train stopped, doors open, and officials coming and going, the stops are as uncomfortable from the heat as from the border guards attention.
Entering and exiting Uzbekistan you have to declare valuables and amount of US dollars and Russian rubles. As a result, I wasn't particularly surprised when the guard checking me and my belongings, after a half-hearted rummage in my well packed rucksack, wanted to go through the contents of my wallet and neck pouch. He demanded to see this and that and the next thing before leaving, seemingly satisfied. It wasn't until later in the day, sorting through my things, that I realised he must have pinched $15! He had pulled the old magicians art of misdirection on me, because by the time we were done, I had various things strewn on my bed and the small window table. My mistake was to not put each thing away after I'd shown it to him or at least have all the things in front of me all the time, but he flustered me with his grabbing and pointing and speed. At least I didn't have much money on me, so he wasn't able to take much.
For the crossing into Uzbekistan, we also had a team of medics come on the train, sweating into their synthetic white coats and face masks while they waited for their thermometers to provide our armpit temperature. Mine was 36.5°C. One who had a little English then interviewed me to establish if I was well... fortunately I was. I think they were checking for swine flu victims.

Super-immune!

2009 06 - pre-departure

I hope...

I've been jabbed with :

Diptheria, Polio, Tetanus - 1 jab booster
Cholera - 2 oral vaccinations
Hepatitis A, Typhoid - 1 jab
Rabies - 3 jabs
Japanese Encephelitis - 3 jabs
Menengitis ACWY - 1 jab
And have a load of anti-malarials in anticipation of those areas that need them...

(I think that's it...)