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Karakum desert & Uzbek hospitality

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14.03.2004 from Samarkand, Uzbekistan - 11'356km

Asalaam aleikum!

The timing out of Iran towards Turkmenistan was tight…There was about 200km of cycling towards Sarakhs, the border town. I arrived there on the morning of the first day of my Turkmen transit visa. I felt like leaving my homecountry. More than two months of cycling through the so divers country, making many new friendships and passing through all kinds of emotions attached my heart to Iran. In the border town, a police officer wanted me stay for some time in his office. Actually, he had just called a friend of his from the national TV. Then, I got filmed standing in front of my bicycle and answering lots of questions to the reporter. Quite strange feeling… ! But I enjoyed the interest in my journey After the interview, the reporter jumped into his Paykan car and filmed me cycling the last 500m towards the customs, getting off my bicycle, shaking some hands and then finally disappearing towards Turkmenistan. Now, I definitely felt like a movie star.

The Turkmen immigration was slightly chaotic, but luckily the Iranian truck drivers (making up most of the border traffic) were helping me a lot. Thanks to my ‘small-talk’ skills in Persian, they pushed me through every queue, explained the customs officers what I would need exactly and one truck driver even wanted to pay the bakhshish for me. But he was told that there would be no ‘fee’ for tourists. I feared that after my currency declaration (of course largely understated, as most of my money was in my underwear ), I would have to pay anyway. But the customs chief just wanted to have a chat with me and I went off without paying. Persian was again useful in the first town in Turkmenistan. I got warned that the short-cut road would be very dangerous as drug traffickants would use it… But my visa was only valid for five days and there were 500km of desert crossing ahead, so I took the short-cut anyway. Nothing happened, of course.

Turkmenistan is a police state. I passed through countless checkpoints. Almost always I got stopped and questioned, although mostly in a friendly manner. Many times they ‘registered’ me, a time-consuming process of writing down all my passport and visa details. For Turkmenbashy (‘Father of the Turkmen’), the self-declared president, this is an excellent mean of keeping a tight grip on his people. On the other hand, the Turkmen are an incredibly friendly people. Many times a car stopped and broad smiles greeted me. Amazingly (after my stay in Iran), women were just or even more talkative than men...

The Karakum desert occupies almost the whole country. In summer incredibly hot and in winter freezing cold… March was actually pleasant, if there would not have been the strong wind on most days. On one day, I cycled even in a sandstorm. The fine sand got driven across the road and my eyes were burning. On the road small dunes started to accumulated and the horizon got a bit of a yellowish colour. Luckily, I met nice people on that otherwise extremely lonely part of the desert. A family in one of the small settlments invited me for a chay and an Iranian truck driver even shared his whole lunch with me (some excellent Iranian kebap… ). Two very nice occasions to escape from the strong winds. The days in the desert were quite tough. On some evenings I could hardly stand upright, every part of my body was hurting from cycling. The headwind and the bumpy road made things only worse. But I had to keep up a fast pace and cycle until it was getting really dark as otherwise I would have arrived too late at the Uzbek border. On the last day in Turkmenistan, I had to cross Turkmenabat, a bigger town in the North. Most of it consists of decaying residential blocks from the Soviet era, a really depressing sight. The police seemed to particularly active on that day. The huge boulvard through town was almost completely empty and every 100m there were at least two or three police officers standing. I had no idea what was going on… I bought some food in a bazar and got offered three girls for marriage One would even have continued with me sitting on my baggage When I continued on the boulvard a very grim looking police woman made me signs to get off the road immediately. At first, I tried to continue but I had no chance negiotating. I had to head off towards a small street apparently leading nowhere. Luckily, I managed to find another way towards the border… I had about four hours left to reach the customs on the last day of my visa. Then suddenly the sideroad was blocked also. I should turn around, so basically I would have been completely trapped. I talked to some sort of high-ranking officer in military uniform, finally he let me through but I should hurry… Somehow, I had the impression that Turkmenbashy in person was on visit in the town, but nobody seemed to have an idea. I just saw a huge helicopter taking off from nearby.

I had only two hours left when I reached the border. At the Turkmen customs there was a huge mess. There were about a hundred people all carrying loads of cardboard boxes with goods they tried to bring over and sell in Uzbekistan. Almost violent scenes seemed to erupt at some times. Some officers luckily made me signs to get through the crowds, otherwise it could have taken hours… In the small building I witnessed how the goods were actually ‘exported’ from Turkmenistan.

The higher-ranking officers were halfway occupied by randomly giving orders to people, halfway occupied by counting the money they got. Incredible sums disappeared in their pockets… Dollars, Turkmen Manats, … I tried to not watch too obviously the happenings, it was an incredible sight and such a mess! Just nothing seemed to go on correctly: no form signed, no goods inspected and no passport stamped without ‘fees’… except mine. Uzbek immigration then was straightforward, a doctor asked me whether I would feel healthy, a stamp in my passport and a chat with the customs officers about my journey.

At sunset I could not find a place to put up my tent. Houses everywhere or at least too close. At the first house where I asked for a place to sleep, I got turned away. But then I met a very nice man who invited me straight away. I spent a very nice evening with some excellent Uzbek food and a very nice, young family. I continued cycling the next morning with wonderful first impressions of Uzbekistan. In the afternoon, I realised that I would not make it to Bukhara early enough, as I wanted to do some sightseeing in that town. As I was just having a rest on the roadside and thinking were I could stay for the night, two young men approached me and invited me for a chay at their home. They were Tajik refugees from the bloody civil war that raged there in the 90s. Actually the whole village was Tajik. As the Tajik and Persian language are quite similar, communication was quite easy… at least most of the time. The stay at the multi-generation family home was quite impressive. The young Tajik were very direct asking many questions, somehow privacy doesn’t exist for them at all, although I was already quite used to direct question. They were very hospitable but some were also quite rude in their way of behaving… it was an interesting human experience to spend the night there. Anyway, their life is very tough and they have to live with very little.

The following day, I visited beautiful Bukhara. The splendor of their mosques and ancient Coranic Schools were in such a stark contrast to the monotous countryside, simple housings and poor roads. At night, I could again find no place to camp, so I accepted an invitation to sleep in a road restaurant. Again a very intimate look at Uzbek life… But after three nights with little sleep and no private moments, I enjoyed wild camping on the fourth night. Somehow, I need some hours for myself at night or with somebody I can communicate well. And of course, I need a lot of sleep.

My arrival in Samarkand was very nice, as some students were showing me the way to a affordable hotel and offering me to spend some time with them. Sanat and his friends were studying German and happy to try out their language skills. On the next morning I joined a German class at their university. The professor used the occasion to make his students talk… I was answering questions about my travel and homecountry for a whole hours. Of course, I could also ask the students many questions. Then, I had some handshakes and small-talk with other German professors. One invited me as well to his class for ‘conversation’. In the afternoon, Sanat and one of his friends showed me some of the breathtaking sights of Samarkand: the Registan Quran Schools dating from the 14th century. Huge Islamic buildings decorated with amazing mosaics. Unfortunately, the weather suddenly changed overnight from pleasantly warm spring weather to snowfall and an icy wind blowing down from the Pamir. We were all shivering.

From Samarkand, I took a bus to Tashkent. Mainly to get a visa… but it didn’t work in the end. I will explain later why. I’m still hopeful to continue as planned. Now my journey goes towards Tajikistan. I just checked again the security situation… it seems unchanged. But I will definitely need better information about some small parts of the country. The bloody civil war left behind many minefields and still some unsecured regions, huge amounts of opium from Afghanistan aren’t very helpful for stability either. The weather could also cause some problems as most passes are still closed (but pushing the bicycle through the snow could still be possible ) and in spring there’s a high risk of mudslides and avalanches. But I’m very eager to get to high altitude, the Tajik Pamir is full of 6000m and 7000m peaks waiting to be admired.

See you soon & all the best,
Daniel

Iran

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