About Turn! - Westward Bound

2009 09 17-18 – Days 83-84 – trains to Datong via Beijing

Just a few days earlier, leaving Beijing, I had thought that after Dandong I'd go further north and east to hike in a large national park, but my growing appreciation of the sheer size of China, and the realisation that it could be unwise to go hiking solo in an unknown mountainous area in autumn (off-season), forced me to make some more cuts to my possible destinations list and led to an overnight train to Beijing.

Stopping just long enough to buy a ticket and wait for the train, I was soon on a standing-room-only train to Datong, a short six hours to the east.
My standing status wasn't to last the full six hours though, thanks to the effervescent Shar Shar (aka Sarah) sat in front of me:

It came as no surprise that she normally worked in Beijing's infamous tourist trap The Silk Market, as she proceeded to assault me with her enthusiasm, transferring her everyday sales skills instead to social interaction. Surrounded as I was on all sides by other passengers, there was no escape from her verbal barrage, so it was of huge consolation that she was so smiley and good-humoured. It wasn't long before she forced her seat upon me. I tried to resist, but there's only so many times you can refuse someone's hospitality before you cause serious offence. I did manage to add in the clause that I would take it for only an hour and then she could have it back by which point she was actually quite pleased to sit down again. Although Shar Shar was a lovely person, friendly and fun, I wasn't too upset that she wasn't going all the way to Datong as her lack of interest in pausing for breath lead to one of the best demonstrations I've seen of what it takes to literally talk the hind legs off a donkey! Although she was a funny and engaging person, I was exhausted by the time she got off.

Much of the journey had been winding our way around under and through steep-sided mountains, but the last couple of hours were mostly over level terrain and I had a seat and conversation free calm to enjoy view.

As the sun set over the iconic yellow earth, it occurred to me that, throughout the entire six hour train journey, we'd never once escaped the smog! Could it really be that such poor visibility over such a large area was entirely man-made!?

I supposed it probably was, sadly, both possible and probable.

Everyone Equal and Some More Equal Than Others

2009 09 17 – Day 83 – Dandong

Returning to Dandong from The Great Wall should have been, as with the outward journey, a simple bus ride. But with no clearly defined bus stop on the nearby road, and having been ignored by the solitary bus that went past, I found myself increasingly open to hitching a lift from any vehicle going my way. A countryside local farmhand (I assume) joined me squatting by the side of the road and I attempted to say something useful about a bus to Dandong in Chinese, but his response only confirmed that we didn't understand each other beyond the fact that we were headed in the same direction
Eventually a taxi came by and I managed to flag it down. Although I was in no position to haggle with so few cars on the road, I gave it a go if only to minimise the degree to which I got ripped off. While negotiating I made it fairly clear with my arm gestures that my farmer friend would be coming too, but the driver was having none of it! I tried various ways of getting him to take both of us, including pushing for one price for me and a higher (but not double) price for the two of us, but the driver was immovable. His attitude stank of elitism, as if the country bumpkin wasn't worthy of a lift in his vehicle – so much for the egalitarianism of communism.
With the taxi driver threatening to leave both of us stranded, I had to concede defeat. Offering an apologetic shrug to the farmhand, I clambered in and abandoned him to his fate.

Travelling Lessons Learned

2009 09 14/15 – Days 80/81 – Shanhaiguan to Chengde

Doing things takes time. Of course I knew that, but how much time? Depends on the things doesn't it? And whether you've done it before, and whether you're dependent on others, and how dependable they are, and how reliable your information is etc etc. All pretty obvious stuff. In hindsight. Knowing how much time to allow is something that comes with experience. Which is exactly what I got as I made my way from Shanhaiguan to Chengde.

With a 5pm last bus departure on the horizon, and disappointed with smog shrouded visibility on my morning walk, and swayed by the underwhelming Lonely Planet write up of the actual sight of the Great Wall entering the sea, I opted to abandon an afternoon visit, despite it being the main reason I was in Shanhaiguan.
I was keen to avoid a potentially panicky race for the last bus to Chengde because, to catch it, I first needed to get to the nearby city of Qinhuangdao, a local bus ride away. No problem when you're a local, but not so straight forward as a foreigner who can't speak, read or write! Lonely Planet was understanably short on detail for this minor tourist destination, but they did have this particular bus journey and after a fun half hour of bobbly wobbly bus ride, I was in Qinhuangdao.
But where in Qinhuangdao? The final stop was a bit of a car park of local buses in an area of town with no recognisable buildings – no intercity bus station, no train station, no town hall or even post office. I was surrounded by non-descript concrete block apparments and offices.
I joined a queue to a nearby concrete shed masquerading as a ticket office to enquire about the bus to Chengde. I didn't hold out any hope that it actually left from here, or that the people behind the counters spoke any English, but I didn't yet have an alternative plan of action. If my bus didn't leave from here, then where? And how to get there? Time was slipping away.
A smiley local approached and applied his broken English as best he could. Conversation was a struggle, but I persevered, hoping he would help me find my bus. Victory was short lived. Once I had managed to make my travel plans understood, it was immediately clear that he thought there was no bus to Chengde! His advice was to go back to Beijing and out to Chengde by train, there are many. He proposed to drive me to the train station.
I was sure he was right about the frequency of trains, but I wasn't sure that he really knew there was no bus. But I was running out of time and options, and the train station offered the possibility of other people who might know about the bus to Chengde. If that bus didn't exist I would be well placed for plan B. I decided to go with him, still alert to the potential of this being one big con on the short brisk walk to his car, which was 'not far' and 'over there'. The fact that his car was indeed not far and over there was encouraging. The fact, revealed shortly after we'd joined traffic, that he'd been drinking, was not. If I understood correctly, he'd been at a business lunch where they'd eaten and drunk a lot. No wonder he was so happy! The walk to the car, the first minutes of the drive and my experience with Ruslan, encouraged me to not confuse his coordination with my concerns of his driving under the influence. Fortunately the drive was short.
At the train station, my merry local found a station official to share a laugh with over the idea of a bus to Chengde, before jumping queues to help me buy a ticket for the next train to Beijing.
Returning to Beijing was frustrating and disappointing. I had been trying to not retrace my route and though this wasn't a major problem, travelling two sides of a triangle instead of one would significantly delay my arrival in Chengde. A delay that also wouldn't be a big problem if I hadn't already bought my onward ticket. But I had, before I left Beijing.
It now looked like I'd have to skip sightseeing in Chengde as most of the day I'd allocated for it would be spent arriving and departing. This prospect was particularly frustrating because I had squeezed the less interesting Shanhaiguan into my schedule on the back of the mythical 5pm bus to Chengde.
I had come unstuck in Khazakstan, with future fixtures restricting my in-the-moment flexibility, due to a fixed schedule from Moscow to Beijing. But I'd defined that before I left the UK, this current setback was one of my own making and I had to learn my lesson!
I used the five hour train ride back to Beijing to critically revisit my speculative and sketchy schedule for China. It was a pencil plan of possibilities. Too many possibilities! I chopped away at the edges to create more room manoeuvre – off came a number of possibles in the North East -chop- including a national park along the North Korean border -chop- off came a horse trek in Inner Mongolia -chop- there would be no time to return to the west of China -chop-chop-etc-chop-etc.
Arriving late in Beijing, I had accepted my setback, learned my lesson and felt better having created a more realistic, achievable, and full yet flexible plan for China. I had resigned myself to only passing through Chengde, rather than touring, as I went to buy my train ticket for the next day.
Chengde is about five hours by train from Beijing so, given that it was about 22:00, I was surprised to find that the next train wasn't early the next morning, but at 23:15! A brief rush of panicky uncertainty, at the prospect of a sleepless night in a seat, failed to defeat the surge of excitement at the prospect of touring Chengde after all and the lure of a cheap ticket and night. Before I knew it I was scurrying along a platform and into a carriage. Hesitating in the face of possible Chinese protocol over unreserved seating, I was happy to be rescued, not for the first time, by local teenage girls, who invited me to join them. That they were returning home to Chengde was about the extent of possible conversation and soon enough, they had heads on arms on table and fell fast asleep. An activity most passengers seemed engaged in:

except me!
I struggle to sleep sat upright at the best of times, but a hard seat, noisy train, uncertain security situation and unfamiliar surroundings were never going to let my exhaustion get the better of my consciousness.
I tried to rest my eyes as best I could.

Eating Beijing

2009 08-09 – Beijing

Finding a place to eat in Beijing is never a problem, though choosing might be!  To a European's eyes,  an incredibly high percentage of small businesses are eateries and, given the number of people many of them employ and how cheap the food is, you have to wonder how they make a living.
Happily, thanks to my parents no doubt, I have a flexible palate and almost everything I ate was at least agreeable, but more often than not very tasty.

My favourite alley stall near Beijing Station served up a good Beijing breakfast pick-n-mix of boiled egg, dough sticks, fried bread, noodles and xifan (sheefan) – a rice porridge that can be incredibly bland (perhaps the most bland dish in Chinese cuisine), but this stall did a reasonable job of giving it a tiny bit of taste.

Mr. Lee – Chinese fast food! Simple dishes that seemed so much better than the food in Western fast food chains. Unlike most Western travellers, I have built up an immunity to the siren song of the 'Golden Arches' and would prefer Mr. Lee any day of the week.

Generally speaking, eating in China is a social event and a group of people will share a collection of dishes. This results in individual dishes that are quite focused in their flavour, texture and colour and yet the quantity of food per dish is more than enough for one. Eating alone in restaurants is therefore less than ideal as you either have to order way too much food or be restricted in the variety of contents of your meal.

Though very oily, this was possibly the best aubergine dish I've ever eaten! It was certainly one of the most garlicky! I think this was also the first dish where I was introduced to the Chinese cuisine concept of meat as a garnish, with slivers of fried pork sprinkled across the top. The noodles were a separate dish I ordered so I wasn't just eating aubergine... I wasn't expecting quite so much food but, in a stomach busting burst of Britishness, I cleared the plate.

Hotpot! With a large gas cylinder under your table, you cook your meat and veg yourself at the table in either of the two tasty boiling liquids – one extremely spicy and the other not.

A happy aspect of travelling alone that I didn't anticipate is that local people are not so shy about approaching you and helping you out if they can.... which is exactly what happened here! Jing-Hua, a medical school fresher, and her mum generously invited me to join them and share their dinner as they had too much anyway – brilliant!

Hitting the Ground Running

2009 08 14 – Day 49 – Beijing

You might not describe spending most of my first full day in Beijing on the internet as 'hitting the ground running', but the work I did that day was the coiling of my spring, a gathering of strength through knowledge and connections before launching myself into a month of action!
I planned to be in Beijing so long in order to learn a little Chinese and acclimatise to the culture if possible, before setting out into the rest of the country, so I wasn't in a hurry to do any sight seeing.
Thanks to my solid groundwork, by the end of the first weekend, three days after arrival, I had arranged daily language classes to begin on Monday, made some local friends, eaten the classic street barbecue 'chuar', played mahjong, partied in three different club venues and slept on a couch.
Not bad going I'd say.

Chuar outdoor restaurants

Chinese Funk! At trendy live venue/bar/club Yugong Yishan.

Arriving on a Thursday had proved a good strategy. I felt vindicated that I had chosen to continue my journey to arrive in time for the weekend rather than stay longer in Almaty

A Chance Encounter and A Tough Decision

2009 08 08 – Day 43 – Almaty

My train didn't leave until after midnight and although I was pretty tired from my hike to Big Almaty Lake I wanted to make best use of the daylight and my limited time in Almaty. I decided to head up Kok Tobe, a popular place to watch the sun go down over the city, accessible by cable car from fairly near the city centre, which suited my energy levels.

On my stroll to the cable car, Dina, a local girl of European descent crossing the same road, struck up conversation. We immediately hit it off and I got a big lift from her energy and enthusiasm, soon forgetting my tired feet as she'd persuaded me that local bus and then by foot was the best way up Kok Tobe, not the overpriced cable car.
We spent the next 4 or 5 hours together chatting each others' ears off, eating ice lollies and other snacks, puzzling over the (unrecognisable as) Beatles statues that grace the top of Kok Tobe and watching the sun go down over Almaty.

As the evening wore on and my departure drew near, we both agreed it was a shame I wasn't here tomorrow when she could show me more of the city. Dina asked why didn't I stay another couple of days? Good question! Why not? Because I have a train booked for tonight was the obvious answer, but of course train tickets can be rearranged... it just depends on how difficult or expensive it is to do so. I hadn't even thought of the possibility. My mind span, trying assess the implications of taking on her suggestion and what that meant for my onward travel to Beijing.... was it as simple as arriving two days later?
Certainly my Kazakh and Chinese visas could accommodate the two days, I wasn't tied to fixed departure or arrival dates, but my trains from Almaty to Urumqi and from Urumqi to Beijing were booked. I wasn't convinced it was possible or my best plan of action, but I was intrigued by the idea because we were having such a good time and, due to my illness, I'd spent less time in Almaty than planned. If it turned out not too complex or costly, then maybe I would stay.

We set off to the station to enquire about changing my ticket to Urumqi. Dina being a native Russian speaker made the enquiries painless and to my extreme surprise there was only a minor charge for changing my ticket until nearly the last minute! Two days later was my only option short of a week as the Urumqi train only runs twice a week. A bit stunned at how easily the first hurdle was overcome, I approached the next: my Urumqi to Beijing train ticket, the Urumqi agent who held it, and my hostel reservation for my first four nights in Beijing – all of which were perhaps best dealt with the next day as it was pretty late by this point but, thanks to the rotation of the Earth, there was still a chance I could get in touch with Sundowners or STA representatives to try gauge how difficult any changes would be. I tried ringing the few numbers I had on my various documents, but late on a Saturday afternoon is not the sort of time you'd expect the office to be full of people fighting to get to the receiver.
No one answered.
By this point, the mental and physical tiredness that Dina had earlier banished, was coming back strong and fairly overwhelmingly – I was struggling to think straight and teetering along the decisions edge – should I stay or should I go? I rang a 24hr (anywhere in the world) STA number but since I didn't really regard my situation as an emergency I didn't get past the automated system to a human being. I tried again, trying to convince myself it was an emergency...... the line rang out! Good luck to those in a real emergency!
I couldn't do it. I'd tried all I could.
Back in the UK, my information was that Chinese long distance trains are booked far in advance and so I had no reason to believe I would be able to change my Urumqi-Beijing train at short notice and was anyway reluctant to give up my original arrival day of Thursday – just in time for the weekend. I was too tired to deal with the possibility of a delay longer than the two days I was contemplating and perhaps having to pay for tickets twice.
I made the decision to go.
Dina and I exchanged emails and hopefully we'll see each other again.
What an evening! What a shame! For the second time already in my travel, fixed plans had become more of a hinderance than a help.

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.

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.

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!

'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.