A short uninteresting run to the border. Whilst in Turkmenistan we had not noticed one other vehicle with a foreign number plate. No Iranian, no Russian, no Uzbek, Azeri or anything else. There were no Japanese motorcycles of any size and we pondered whether we were the only Harley-Davidson in Turkmenistan? We have avoided all fines. Fines are a major industry in Turkmenistan and far more so in Ashgabat. Speeding, dirty cars, smoking in a car, mobile phone in a car and probably others we don't even know about. Motorcycles were also banned in Ashgabat so either we were very lucky in getting away with riding a dirty, black motorcycle, or, as foreigners, we presented the police with too much of an administrative nightmare - too much paperwork when there were easier pickings elsewhere.
At the border, passports were no issue. We were literally pushed through to the front of the queue, not just by the officials but by all the locals on the basis that we were 'tourists'. Great! If only it had been like that when we arrived in Turkmenbashi. The motorcycle however seemed to pose them some concerns. There seemed to be a suggestion that we unpacked the motorcycle and put everything, as in all our luggage, through the scanner. Surely they don't do that with anybody travelling by car? Maybe nobody crosses the border in a car? There were some forms to fill in, but as we couldn't read them. We shrugged our shoulders and the officials filled them in for us. All good. We then brought the bike round to a window. The official made us go into a small room. We showed him all our paperwork that we had collected in Turkmenistan, but he still seemed perplexed. He also had no English - why should he? So we just shrugged our shoulders when he spoke to us. Our papers got shuffled on his desk. He was clearly in a quandary and a few phone calls were made. Somebody else joined us in the room with pretty good English and suggested we do the passports again. We said that we had accomplished this task rather proudly - and he eventually found our exit stamp in the passports. We think that this was part of the quandary as we had exited the country but the bike was still there. They eventually hand wrote something in a ledger and indicated that the bike needed a customs inspection. They only looked at our wet gear bag and then gave up and waved us on. Another passport check and finally a wave on, a ride through a barbed wire fenced-off corridor with watchtowers and a final passport check. Harry Kane Tottenham Hotspur was the comment on mine followed by Eden Hazard, Chelsea on Francoise's and we were waved into Uzbekistan. Less than two hours compared to five in Turkmenbashi.
We were welcomed into Uzbekistan! Again they were probably not that used to people other than Uzbeks or Turkmen crossing the border as they looked in our passports and, when they could not find them, asked us about our visas? Paul responded, '30 days, no visa', some discussions were held and internet look-up and all was OK. They filled in some paperwork for the bike, made us sign it. We were finally on the way out of the compound. The man opened the gate, we had to negotiate some six inch deep wheel ruts in the tarmac - watch that ground clearance - and we were off!
In just over an hour we were in our hotel in Bukhara. Paul not feeling that brilliant but after a short rest and clean up, we walked into the old town for tea and cake.
The three most renowned Silk Road Central Asian cities are Khiva, Bukhara and Samarkand.
Road conditions stopped us returning to Khiva, but Bukhara and Samarkand are on the list. Madrassas, Mausolea, Minarets and Mosques. That's what it is all about - the 4 M's. The buildings here post- date the mud ones of Turkmenistan; they had brick and tile. There are still some mud walls, but buildings tend to be from the 9th to the 16th Century with a bit of Soviet 'restoration' thrown in. And whitewash, when the Soviets wanted to quash Islam by painting over it.
Compared to 2014 when we visited without the bike, Bukhara seems to be booming with the number of tourists and hotels having increased dramatically. However, just like 2014, Francoise was a bit too gung-ho with respect to the sun and had sun-stroke, which rather curtailed our visiting. We also need something to rhyme with 'Bukhara' aka Delhi Belly...
We invested in a guide for our first day off in Bukhara. Francoise was not well enough to participate in the morning and barely OK in the afternoon. We already knew most things about Bukhara anyway, having visited in 2014, but it was good fun and we actually spent a good part of the day sitting in shops and chatting about all sorts of things from UK immigration policy to the cost of living and even Brexit, though apparently all guides had been warned not to mention three things to English tourists - their age, their salaries and Brexit! The lady guide invited one of her best friends to join us in the afternoon and we sat in a carpet emporium in one of the old 15th Century trading posts drinking tea the four of us. Every time we finished a teapot, the carpet shop owner brought another and nobody wanted paying for anything - they said 'Uzbek hospitality' and that was it. We can't manage the cross legged sitting for very long, even on a pile of carpets. It nonetheless felt quite special even though Francoise was more interested in getting back to bed. A big topic of conversation was our views on Turkmenistan. Whether it is Uzbek propaganda or not we don't know, but they told us that nobody under the age of 40 in Turkmenistan was allowed a visa to visit other countries as the regime was frightened of losing people. Equally our guide, although far more 'free', had only been able to visit Russia, Tajikistan and India and this was part of her learning her craft of being a guide. Her friend had not left Uzbekistan at all. Although visas were available the paperwork was daunting.
Weather is cooling down and as we don't feel 100% fit for the bike, we will stay another day.
No comments:
Post a Comment