The Journey So Far – Central Asia

2009 08


The map shows the route as accurately as I know how – if I didn't know any better, then the route is just a straight line between A & B.
days on the road (total)= 14 (44)
distance covered (total)= 3,885 (11,270) km
(as the crow flies as close to my route as I know)
(measured using free map tools)

Memorable moments:
Arriving in the middle of the night
Lively local transport
Uzbek roads
Larger than life locals
Traveller's nightmare
Tough decisions caused by inflexible timetables

Top sights:
Desert ship graveyard
'istoria Samarkand
Trek to Big Almaty Lake

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.

A Day in Tashkent

2009 08 04 – Day 39 - Tashkent

Completing my Uzbek triangle of cities, I returned to Tashkent where I had one full day to explore. The weather at that time was punishingly hot, so in reality I spent a few hours in the middle of the day hiding from the heat in an underground internet cafe and went exploring towards the end of the day as the heat began to drain from the air. Three locals demonstrated the extreme strength of the sunlight, while waiting for a tram, by arranging themselves into a short queue across the tramlines until the tram was almost upon them, just to take advantage of the thin line of shade provided by a solitary lamppost.


Typical buildings lining the wide tree lined boulevards.


The Bolshoi Navoi Theatre


It was a bit of a surprise to pass such a healthy waterway when the environment seemed so hot and dry, but I suppose the greenery of Uzbekistan is ample evidence of sufficient water supply.


My exploration was really more of a casual guided walkabout with Tashkent local Julia, who had helped me out on the Aralsk-Tashkent train a few days earlier.


Tashkent has a couple of metro lines. The stops I saw seemed to have aspirations to follow the lead of Moscow Metro for grandeur.

Bukhara to Tashkent

2009 08 03 – Day 38 – Bukhara to Tashkent


Having only managed to visit Bukhara after hours, cruise the empty streets and use a nice little guesthouse and its comfy bed for insufficient sleep, I had a weary train journey back to Tashkent to contemplate my situation and the adventures of the past few days.
My visit to Bukhara really highlighted the problem with fixed schedules. I say visit, it was more like a rebound off. Bukhara is another historically significant city in Uzbekistan and I had been persuaded by the people at Sundowners and STA Travel that one day, in fact one afternoon, would be enough to see what Bukhara had to offer. I was easily persuaded as I hadn't done any research and didn't want to spend too much time (and therefore money) making my way to Beijing... I was interested in Central Asia, but it was not a priority.
Ruslan and I had talked about my plans and schedule, but somewhere along the line we musn't have understood each other – not that surprising given the extreme limitations of our shared language – and so I thought by joining Ruslan and his friends on the road trip to Bukhara, we would leave later than the bus, travel faster and I would still arrive with time to see some of what Bukhara had to offer. As the day evolved, it became more and more apparent that we wouldn't make it to Bukhara until the evening and I resigned myself to that, deciding that to attempt to discuss our miscommunication would achieve nothing useful even if I was able to get my point across. And so I went with the flow, happy to chose people over places, now over history, living life over observing evidence of others'. Bukhara will have to wait for my return. There are other interesting things to see in Uzbekistan beyond the scope of this visit and what Bukhara has to offer is likely to be the same whenever I might return in the future.

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!

Road Trip to Bukhara

2009 08 02 – Day 37 – Samarkand to Bukhara

I had been due to take a bus from Samarkand to Bukhara, leaving early in the morning to arrive in the middle of the day. The day before Ruslan had persuaded me that he could take me and his friends on a road trip to Bukhara, rather than me taking the bus.
On the way out of Samarkand, we took a small detour so Muhammed could show me his champion fighting dog...

it certainly let me know that I shouldn't approach too close and I wasn't about to argue with it!
Most of the route was bordered by farmland of one variety or another and it was great to see the donkey carts trundling home as the retreating sun painted the end of the day in one palette after another.

Arriving on the outskirts of Bukhara, it emerged that Muhammed had some business lined up with a local friend – two young antelope! Muhammed and his friend removed the beasts one by one from a small wooden pen set up in the house coutyard. Naturally petrified, the young animals came out bucking, kicking and struggling and its captors had to keep a firm hold to prevent escape.

This one nearly made it, freeing two legs before recapture. While the animal was pinned down, the friend tore open the end of a long sock and pulled it snugly over the its head, covering its eyes, but freeing its nostrils at the end of the tube. Covering the eyes effected a change in the animals behaviour that was near instant and remarkable in its contrast. Like someone had flicked a switch, the antelope stopped struggling and relaxed its muscles, the second one even arranged its limbs neatly as if to sleep! Muhammed and his friend stepped aside for a private price negotiation before the animals were loaded, in completely relaxed compliance, into the footwells of Ruslan's car and we were on our way!
No one we asked on the semi-deserted streets of Bukhara seemed to know where my guesthouse was and the phone number I had from Sundowners was missing digits, so, after a bit of a run around town, we were somewhat elated to locate Sasha and Son just before midnight. A triumphant ending to an epic day!

Moscow Time

2009 08 02 – Day 37 - Samarkand

A brief visit to Ruslan's impressive office... Samarkand Vokzal (train station)
Continuing Soviet era practice, rail services and stations on old Soviet rail routes, regardless of which country they now stand in, follow Moscow Time.

'istoria Samarkand

2009 08 02 – Day 37 – Samarkand

Samarkand is an ancient city whose status and wealth was founded on its vital location on the Silk Road between China and Europe. The historical significance of the Silk Road in the history of the world and East-West trade of goods and ideas was the main reason I'd decided on an overland route to China that went through Central Asia rather than the more popular Trans-Siberian/Trans-Mongolian route and despite my interest in visiting Mongolia.
All the time I'd spent with Ruslan. I'd made sure I'd still have time to visit 'istoria Samarkand. Tours of family, friends, village and wedding complete, world history could now take priority and Ruslan and his friends gave me their tour of some of the main historical sights.

Ancient Samarkand was a renowned regional academic centre, attracting would-be scholars from far and wide. The Registan, defined and dominated by three madrasahs (Muslim clergy academies), is the historic centre of old Samarkand.

When I visited a stage was being erected for some big event in a few days time. Ruslan and his friends kindly paid for a local guide to show us around... it was pretty amusing to see her disbelief at our claims of being able to communicate with each other effectively enough to have spent days in each others company, despite our extremely limited common language.

The student digs. Places were limited by the number of rooms.


I don't think the students were really as small these doors suggest. I believe the intention was to have people bow their heads on the way in.


The Shah-i-Zinda necropolis. Legend has it that Kusam ibn Abbas, the cousin of the prophet Muhammad, was buried here.


Samarkand was the captical of the great 14th Central Asian leader Tamerlane, aka Timur, whose empire at some point reached from Delhi to Baghdad and up to the Ural river, a huge swathe of modern day Central Asia and the Middle East. Timur is something of a national icon in Uzbekistan and statues of him are everywhere. Samarkand is home to his mausoleum Gūr-e Amīr

Rescue

2009 08 02 – Day 37 - Samarkand

The next time I'm conscious I don't have too long to dwell in my helpless predicament before the early morning tranquility is roughed up by the unmistakable thump of Russian gangsta rap. My saviour has arrived!

Ruslan, looking somewhat less rough than I feel, is quick to restore my faith in my judgement of character by producing my camera and neck pouch! Reunited with my essentials I'm able to focus my energies on being embarrassed and apologetic, spending some time trying to construct and communicate appropriate sentiments with the limited vocab of my pocket Russian language book. While I struggle with that, we congratulate the hosts on the party, thank them and leave, briefly stopping to say hello to various family members in the village on our return to Ruslan's home. Everyone has a good natured laugh at me, including Ruslan's mother as she supplies us with her hangover cure of bread and a bowl of soured yoghurt... it wouldn't have been my first choice of foods, but I'm able to eat it and manage to keep it down despite (or perhaps because) I follow it, at his insistence, with Ruslan's elixir – vodka!

Traveller's Nightmare

2009 08 02 – Day 37 - Samarkand

I awake in strange surroundings. Cockerels are doing their job somewhere nearby, announcing the imminent arrival of the sun. I'm not Ruslan's house? Beside where I lay on the lovely carpet, someone had kindly left some pavement pizza... nice of them, but I'm not hungry. Something felt different about what I was wearing and it took me a moment or two to work it out.... I didn't have my camera! Before I'd even properly started worrying about that, I realised I didn't have my neck pouch on either! My neck pouch, which had not been off my person since the train in Finland, contained my credit card, debit card, emergency dollars and my visa-filled passport!! Fuuuuck!! Totally awake now and my mind racing, I double check my clothing and immediate vicinity... I still have my wallet with Uzbek Soms and drivers license... that's something I suppose... but no sign of my camera and neck pouch! Surging to my feet I'm rapidly aware that I'm still drunk! I stumble outside into the aftermath of the wedding party. Pre-dawn light casts its clinical gaze over the fallout... seems like it was quite a party! The place is deserted bar a couple of bodies that look like they partied until they dropped and a kid who appears out of nowhere, skips his way around the wreckage and disappears almost as if he were never there. As hard as I try I can't recall enough detail of the night before to even begin to work out what to do next. Fortunately the alcohol still in my body talks some sense by deciding for me – back to bed!
It's 5 am, I'm tired, no one else is awake or speaks English, I've no idea where I am or where my camera, bank cards or visa-filled passport are... thankfully my drunkeness protects me from the full impact of this disaster scenario and I find myself chuckling at the ridiculousness of the situation as I settle back down next my pizza, somehow convinced that it'll all be ok after a nap!

Uzbek Wedding

2009 08 01 – Day 36 - Samarkand

Just like in all the TV travel shows, there just happened to be a wedding in the village involving one of Ruslan's many relatives, so naturally I was invited to join in the merriment.

Normally I'd wear something a bit smarter for a wedding, but Ruslan was convinced that what I was wearing was fine and so, since he was my guide and means of access to the rest of my wardrobe back at the hotel, I deferred to his judgement.

As the remaining daylight drains from the sky, so the guests numbers rise and the party gets started.

The seating arrangements seemed to be on a sex segregation per table basis, but other than that it was unclear if there was any particular formula for who sat where. This fine selection of villagers, friends and family at my table, non of whom spoke English, took me under their wing and made sure my vodka dish was never dry....
and that I emptied it...
regularly!

Well lubricated by now, I was easily persuaded to follow the tradition of giving tips to this young lady shaking her thing around the reception... whose idea it was that I should join her in the process, I don't recall, but as the token novelty foreigner there, it was my duty surely?

No doubt due to the beers and vodka I'd consumed earlier in the day with Ruslan and friends, and reinforced by the endless and enthusiastic supply of vodka at the party, there's not much more I remember from the night! I don't know who the bride and groom were, when they arrived, how late the party went on or what the band sounded like!

Around the Village

2009 08 01 – Day 36 - Samarkand


One of Ruslan's uncles... I think Ruslan had hoped we'd go for a ride on his uncle's horses, but having seen their fairly wild eyes, I was glad the uncle said it was best if we didn't.


Everyone round here seems to have an apple orchard of at least a few trees and Ruslan's relatives are no exception. Grapes are also plentiful.
The greenery of Uzbekistan is, as Ruslan would say, 'Supers!'


Donkeys are still a common and valuable means of transport


Donkey cart bus. Gas pipes bridge the junction – a regular sight in this part of the world.


Dirt and straw bricks dry in the sun... though I didn't see any buildings using such materials under construction, most things going up were basic concrete blocks with steel wire strengtheners.

Ruslan's Palace

2009 07-08 - Samarkand

Ruslan, as I mentioned, seemed to have a lifestyle that was a bit above your average train carriage guard and his large and well built home was evidence of that. I was particularly interested in the generally minimalist nature of the place and how the large bright spaces with choice details made the place feel modern, and yet certain elements we take for granted in the West were far from my understanding of modern. It definitely reflected a different way of life to where I come from.

I include this photo primarily for the evidence at the right side of the almost floor to ceiling pile of soft mattresses available for guests to recline on at social functions... presumably held here:

The main 'lounge' and my bedroom for the night. Ruslan & his youngest sister have rooms off this one.

Ruslan's mum lives in this 'wing'. The main part of the house is on the left.


A continuation of the concrete with a herb, fruit and veg garden behind. Anywhere on the concrete terrace could become a table with the placement of a matt and there always seemed to be some invaluable shade provided by one wall or another throughout the day and so it was the main social space.


Outhouse at the end of the garden houses, amongst other things, the pit toilet – simply a wooden floored room with a floorboard taken out for the hole. I was surprised at how clean it felt as I've seen plenty of worse setups with ceramics and piped water. With no door and a window opening, there was plenty of air flowing through making it near odour free.... but I never did quite understand how you were to know if someone else was already using it without them whistling, singing or talking or something! Fortunately I never had the awkward situation of walking in on anyone, or anyone walking in on me!


The bucket shower cubicle. I really enjoyed this! When the weather is so hot, an outdoor bucket wash is great!

Ruslan's Clan

2009 07-08 - Samarkand


A small cross-section of Ruslan's clan welcomed me with tasty lamb stew Uzbek style: Ruslan, his two kids and one each of wife, aunt, sister, family friend, mother and brother. Behind the camera are two other brothers - I lost count of how many brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles Ruslan has, but certainly I met many and it seemed like most of the village was in some way related. After we'd polished off the food, Ruslan pointed out that it was a bit late for him to drive to my hotel and back to return me, especially since he'd had a few vodkas! So why don't I stay the night? Accepting his kind offer meant there was enough time for us to head out into the village for a few drinks with friends.



Sharing a fabulous traditional Uzbek lamb and rice based meal the next day with Ruslan and some of his closest friends (L to R): Aman a Turkmen walnut trader; Muhammed a champion billiards player, owner of champion fighting dog and general wheeler dealer; and Uzbekistan's champion kickboxer whose name I forget but I won't forget that his hands seemed to be developing into permanent fists!

Ruslan's little princess and imp – extremely cute and keen to help clearing the dishes after a meal!