Australia and New Zealand Old Boys

28th May

Australia and New Zealand Old Boys

Leaving the hotel can be a challenge. The chrome lady draws attention and with it, many 'paparazzi', included the hotel manager.

 

Even though our change in route to pass through Panjakent meant that we no longer needed to visit the Tajikistan capital, Dushanbe, we decided we would anyway. This would mean us going down to Dushanbe and then coming back up on the same road, but so what - all is going well.

 

We are now in scenic territory and the road east from Panjakent to Ayni was both beautiful and in brilliant condition. It was also not very busy, so we enjoyed ourselves pootling along at pretty low speeds for the 90km or so before our tea break. The usual blowing of the horns and thumbs up along the way, the children running in the middle of the road in the hope of a high five, lots of 'hellos' and smiles. We do not ride unnoticed. We are getting quite adept at stopping at the Chaikanas for a pot of green tea and this one even managed some pre-packed chocolate brownies - we did ask for baclava but all that drew was a puzzled look.

 

Then South following the Valley, but gradually climbing to 2,700m where we have the infamous Anzob tunnel. 5km long. No lighting or ventilation. Occasional pot holes. Single lane with oncoming traffic and people overtaking you. Think Rotherhithe tunnel, but smaller cross section and not much visibility because of the fumes. Oh and the dipped beam on the bike had given up, when being shaken about in Turkmenistan. The rumbling noise inside the tunnel was deafening too.

We covered our faces with wetted buffs to deal with the fumes as best we could. No sunglasses now. Visibility was pretty poor. One could follow red lights in front; many people especially the lorry drivers were flashing us because we were riding on full beam - that or nothing.... It was either first or second gear all the way. The beam was picking up a deep open drainage channel at the side, so we stayed in what we assumed was the middle of our lane. We stopped completely once or twice to manoeuvre around pot holes that we saw but overall, and let's not hope its famous last words, as we have to do a return trip. It could have been an awful lot worse. We reckon it helped enormously that the tunnel was a pretty straight line - we could see lights what we thought was a long way in the distance. It was also described as being an awful lot worse on the internet. Maybe it was and it has been upgraded?

 

Needless to say, no photos flash or otherwise, from inside the tunnel. 

It was possible to pull over on exiting the tunnel to literally have a breather. View was magnificent and we were not quite sure why but, this was where people were selling rhubarb? Just outside the tunnel. Is it the Tajik equivalent for carrots helping you see in the dark?

 

The ride down to Dushanbe post tunnel was quite serene. There were a lot of tunnel-ettes that we think were primarily land-slip protection, or melt water, or snow. They gave us a little fright every time, in case they were more long tunnels.

Getting close to Dushanbe we could see lots of sweet looking cafes with terraces cantilevering over the white water river. Actually the water was concrete coloured in some areas, red in other and just grey by the time we got to Dushanbe. However none of these cafes were open, not one. Together they could have dealt with tens of thousands of people and the location was great. We didn't understand.

 

Dushanbe is not tourist town. We are not saying that we were the only visitors in the city, but the others must have been hiding themselves. There were a number of things we could have done, but what we actually did was :

Cafes: 5 visits

National Monuments: 2 visited

Bazaar: 1 visited.

Parks: walked along side one.

Museums: saw one from the outside

Mosque: saw one in the distance from our hotel room.

But we were quite tired from the walking we had done, so we must have done a fair bit. It is also very hot now and that is taking its toll on us.
 

Heading back north though the Anzob tunnel again and also the Shahriston Tunnel, another supposedly joyful 5.25km underground.

Our new friend the Anzob tunnel was not as fearful in the other direction. There also seemed to be some tiny little lights in the ceiling that weren't there when we came down two days ago. Perhaps that stationary lorry we had come across in the tunnel was something to do with repairing them? The Shahriston did have small lights and cats eyes on the walls and nothing compared to the Anzob.  There are a few things on the internet about the Anzob.

 

After the Shahriston Tunnel a straightforward ride down to Khujand, Tajikistan's second City. And if we thought we were the only tourists in Dushanbe....

Emerging out of the Shahriston Tunnel we had a little shock when two wild rather voluminous dogs ran towards us as we pulled up after the tunnel to remove buffs and change glasses. We are always wary of dogs. Except they were calves... Specsavers?

We also learned that kabob isn't kebab. We wanted kebab. We got a plate of lumps of cold roast lamb. But everybody else at the place seemed to be getting the same thing too, so maybe it wasn't just us?

Carpet Slippers

26th May

Carpet Slippers

 

Neither of us are feeling 100% yet, but we left Samarkand for Panjakent in Tajikistan this morning. A mammoth 70km. The weather seems to have re-established itself and it was bright blue skies and sunny.

 

We even had scenery on the route with snow tipped mountains signalling the approaching Tajikistan. The border was not announced on any signposts, so we kept heading East in hope. This border crossing was a bi-lateral crossing not open to foreigners when we planned our trip last year, so we are now off-piste. The road was exceptionally quiet and in pretty good state. We dawdled along as we were under absolutely no pressure of any sort whatsoever. We arrived at the border - there were a few ladies on foot crossing, but that was it. Everything went very smoothly and probably, for both sides, took no more than an hour. And the road on the Tajikistan side was perfect. 

 

We struggled to find our hotel. We were certainly the centre of attention when we ended up slightly out of town, down some very narrow unmade streets - a GB Harley with two Europeans - in the back streets of Panjakent? Panjakent is very soviet; the opening of the border to tourists will probably change things enormously. It is a wonderful base for the stunning Fan Mountains, which we will drive through when we visit Dushanbe.

 

With some help and sketches we found Hotel Sugd; the owner is one of the most gracious people we have met. We went out for lunch. Whether it was last night's evening meal, the breakfast, the water, the sun coming out or the lunch itself we will never know - but we ran back to the hotel to avoid embarrassment.

 

So change of plan again! We will stay an extra day in Panjakent to recover and go and visit the Fan Mountains without the bike.

 

Paul had always thought that the term 'Carpet Slippers' stemmed from not wearing dirty shoes on carpets. Here however, the slippers are made of carpet and you are asked to put them on immediately when you enter a property. Getting our motorcycle boots on and off isn't that easy, so putting on the slippers is quite a performance. Especially as the heat tends to make your feet swell more than the boots.

The pavements throughout Central Asia are complete booby traps and you really have to look where you walk. They are in far worse condition than the roads. The drainage is also open gullies - and they are deep. Ladies are constantly sweeping pavements with their Harry Potter brooms, but it make little difference. Then of course there are the Mulberry trees. Those trees  give the leaves that feed the silk worms. But there are Mulberries too. Black ones and white ones. Our raspberries and blackberries etc are low down and easily accessible. They don't splat on you or the floor and stain everything - or make your shoes very sticky indeed. So off with your shoes as soon as you enter anywhere.

 

Our day in the mountains visiting the seven lakes of Haft Kul was tremendous. There is no way we would have made it ourselves, as it was nearly all off-road. The lakes are all along one valley, where the hillsides have slid down and created dams. The last lake is not accessible by 4x4, so we walked up to that one. We had grilled lake fish on the way down. It is very poor here. We felt very out of place, but almost everybody was waving at us and if we have contributed something to the local economy then that is great!

The Golden Road to Samarkand

23rd, 24th and 25th May

'By hotter winds, our fiery hearts are fanned: For lust of knowing what should not be known. We take the Golden Road to Samarkand. Open the gate, O watchman of the night!' - James Elroy Flecker, written in 1913.

 

We don't know what road he was travelling on but it cannot have been the road from Bukhara unless something dramatic has happened as the road was drab, dreary and featureless - plain boring in fact. Yes, the condition wasn't always brilliant and we hit a couple of pot-holes and there was a section where Paul was down to 40km/h but that is almost becoming a daily reality here. Something has also happened to the weather - it is chilly, we are wearing jumpers.

We left our Turkmen wine with our Bukhara hotel - intrigued to know what they will do with it but we will never know?

When we visited in 2014 we always arrived in the centre of the cities and perhaps things appeared different because of this? The temperature was also in the high 30's/ low 40's. We are miles off that - a 20 degree shift. People have said that both winters and summers are getting warmer, but it is not the case at present.

 

The only 'interesting' things to note about the trip to Samarkand was a wonderful Cornish Pasty stop on the way and the absence of petrol stations. There are plenty of Gas stations selling Methane and Propane, but no Benzin. Paul did have a full tank so we were OK but it is something that we will have to take account of in future. Just because there is a Lada parked outside a pump on a forecourt doesn't mean that there is some petrol available and it is far more likely that the Lada has been there for some years - waiting for Benzin?

 

We arrived just before the rain. Our 'hotel' only spoke Russian (and dollars) and wanted to substantially renegotiate the price of our stay. All quite difficult, it took some time to 'sort', and we were not sure what has been 'sorted'. By the time we had settled in, it was too late for the banks and we could not find any banks, money change facilities or dubious men with suitcases hanging around on street corners in order that we could get some Soms. As far as 'dubious' is concerned though, on the next street there were five black, blacked-out Maybachs and one black, blacked-out Rolls all with similar number plates parked together with a 'heavy' sat on a chair outside the door - wonder what goes on behind the green door? Maybe Avis and Hertz have gone up-market?

 

 

Anyway, with not much local cash in our pockets, Francoise became 'British' and asked a Policeman where we could find a money changer. Few telephone calls. Policeman walks into street to flag down a taxi - but stops the traffic so that the patrol car can pull out. We are then told to get into the patrol car. Google translate says that the 'colleagues' are taking us for our safety. We get to a market area, a dubious man was holding a wad of Soms. Policeman gives him some notes, Paul gives man $100, we get Soms in exchange. We are then taken back to tourist area in police car. All quite bizarre! We counted the notes afterwards, we had been given the bank exchange rate. Just a bit disappointed that we did not get the sirens and flashing lights on the trip. Anyway, saved a couple of taxi fares.

 

One should note that wads of notes are common place here. A 1000 Som note is worth 10p. There are also 500 Som notes. The biggest note we have had is a 50,000 Som note. For the $100 we had 845,000 Som.

Friday morning - temperature is 11 degrees with a maximum of 17 degrees today according to the BBC. Just stopped raining. Weather is unheard of.  Francoise is still not feeling well and it looks as though we are going to take an extra day in Samarkand, as we will not get much done today. Change of accommodation inevitable. 

Why do we expect the BBC to know everything. Sun breaks out in the afternoon, Francoise perks up a bit and we can wander about a bit. Still staying an extra day - elsewhere!

 

Saturday morning more rain. Long ride today - 1km to new accommodation. Again weather betters significantly in the afternoon and we complete our site seeing trip. It's more Madrassas, Mausoleums, Minarets and Mosques, but with a lot more blue tiles than Bukhara. Still amazed to see these Buildings dating from the 14th and 15th Century, even though most of them have had Soviet cosmetic and physical surgery. The photos from the early 1900's show the sites devastated and hardly recognisable compared to what is there today. Would people come to see ruins?

 

Apparently the Uzbek population is one of the un-healthiest diets on the planets. It can only be down to the amount of sugar eaten. The markets have 'sugar' stalls.

Francoise is always careful about photographing the locals. The zoom assists. However the locals have no such issue with Francoise and she is often snapped or asked to be part of some Uzbek stranger's group photo. Not Paul. It must be the hair!

We are both feeling a bit better, so Tajikistan tomorrow. Change of plan as the border nearest to Samarkand is now open to foreigners. Panjakent here we come. It's only 70km - surely?

 

 

Bye-bye Turkmenistan, hello Uzbekistan. And Bukhara.

20th May 2019

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.

 

Maxim, our guide/driver gave us a bottle of Turkmen wine as a present - we struggle to carry it. It is a bizarre amber colour with a variable alcohol content, 9% to 12%. What to do with it? Would dearly love to bring it back to UK, but shaken not stirred?

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!

Dreadful road to start with. Very hot. Dripping sweat after all the shenanigans, but we felt good.

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.

 

Mary and Turkmenabad

18th and 19th May 2019

Mary and Turkmenabad

 

Time to get out of the country but still a long way to go. First stop was Mary. On the way we visited what we thought was a ruin of an ancient Mosque that had been badly hit by the earthquake and had been left there as a memorial. However our guide/driver just said that it had fallen down because it was old. The romance of it. We also visited a ruined mud wall Silk Road city. There was no one about, you could pick up shards of pottery - it was both bizarre and eerie at the same time. As a country they just haven't got their act together on this yet.

 

The road was feeling long and we were glad to get to Mary. There had been another butterfly massacre on the way; Turkmen Red Admirals. Not sure whether it is a host, swarm or whatever for butterflies or whether you could say that they were dropping like flies? But there were a lot of them which makes you think where the right level lies; does Turkmenistan have a lot, or we too few?

 

The road is quite boring otherwise. Somewhat like the great plains in America or the Outback in Australia; long straight roads with not much happening except police men with radar pistols and rifles. The speed limit is 90km/h, then of course the control check points, where it is quite clear they don't know what to do with us. They would like to do us for something but they are a bit taxed by the idea that we smile, shake their hands, say hello in English and don't have any Turkmen.

 

We were battling the clouds again and got hit on the last 20km into Mary. The roads weren't good enough to even ride at 90km/h.  We thought Turkmenistan would be all desert but lots of it were quite green.  Lakes and rivers were passing through the desert. Our driver/ guide said that it rained throughout April and that was why the desert was green. That evening we ate in a cafe in a park down by a river - the usual with some beetroot thrown it - but we could have been anywhere in Europe apart from the language - even the girls were wearing jeans with torn knees and not the obligatory red and green dresses. There were even reddy brown cars. This is not Ashgabat!

 

Following day we visited Merv in the morning. An absolutely massive mud wall city site with not that much left standing except for some of the walls. Apparently the place was doing so well for itself during the days of the early Silk Road that Genghis popped down from time to time, emptied the shop and killed everyone - one history book says it must have been one of the biggest massacres know to mankind.

 

Boring ride in the afternoon to Turkmenabad with quite bad roads; very bad for the Harley - shake, rattle and please keep rolling along. Only noticed one bit that has fallen off and it looks like the headlight might be no more!.