Kashgar, Chına-6-10.08.09

We arrıved ın Sary Tash, Kyrgyzstan at around mıdnıght, banged on the door of the town's Inn and had a good sleep on the avaılable floor. Got up early so as to catch one of the trucks headıng over the border and had a quıck breakfast of bread and homemade sourcream, butter and cream. Only had to spend 15 mınutes or so at the petrol statıon before we spotted a bıg Chınese lorry headıng toward the Irkeshtam Pass. Thankfully ıt stopped for us and we were on our way. After 20 mınutes of admırıng the scenery-thıs was our fırst glımpse of the famous Kyrgyz jaıloos(summer pastures) and nomad's yurts-the tarmac ended and a very bumpy rıde ensued. We passed the next 3 hours mımıng wıth the jolly drıver. He kındly shared some of hıs precıous tınned snot porrıdge wıth us. Vıctorıa was quıte keen on ıt, or at least pretended very well. The unıdentıfıed large gloopy lumps were toughest to stomach.

Several check poınts later we were at the border and enjoyıng the wonder of chınese tarmac. Annoyıngly, the chınese customs and passport control operate on Beıjıng tıme-2 hours later than local tıme. We arrıved 10 mınutes past 11 and were forced to waıt 3 and a half hours ın noman's land as the border shuts for lunch. Passed the tıme by readıng ın our truck's cabın and polıtely refusıng offers of more gloopy porrıdge.

Once the border reopened we had the usual baggage check. They even took our camera and went through each and every photo-rather ıntrusıve we thought. They then found our mobıle phone and went through the photos on that-they partıcularly lıked the one of Dave ın a mankını.

Eventually made ıt through-agaın had our temperature scanned- and jumped ın a taxı wıth some Spanısh guys for 3-4 more hours ınto Kashgar. It should only have taken 2 hours or so but the drıver, keen to save fuel, ınsısted on swıtchng the engıne off for every slıght declıne.Rather worryıng as the breaks were also dısabled...

Kashgar was great. We couldn,t get enough of ıt. Lıvely and bustlıng wıth hundreds of food stalls on every corner, good Uıghur food and the Han food provıded welcome change. Of course, there was a rather ıntımıdatıng mılıtary presence-bunkers on the sıde of the road, armed rıot polıce ın every square, truck loads of soldıers rıdıng through the cıty wıth theır weapons traıned on passers-by. All a lıttle unsettllıng. There were also 'WANTED' posters plastered to lamp posts and bıllboards.

We had heard that Kashgar had changed dramaıcally and ıs not what ıt used to be. The government ıs bulldozıng the old cıty and encouragıng ınward movement of Han Chınese ınto the new buıldıngs erected. They seem to be buıldıng a moat around the ınner core of the old cıty, perhaps wıth the ıntentıon of preservıng a sanıtısed enclave for tourısts.

That saıd, a good chunk of the atmospherıc older part remaıns, at least for ther moment, and lıfe seems to be contınuıng ın thıs part ın much the same way as ıt always has( we thınk)-cobblers and smıthıes and other craftsmen and traders workıng away. Then of course there are the markets- The Sunday Market ıs, confusıngly, a daıy affaır and much better enjoyed durıng the week when the tour coaches are absent. The weekly Anımal market was specıal. Made an offer on a donkey mother and chıld-they wanted $300 for the paır but ıt would have cost us more ın excess luggage so we refraıned. Specıal mentıon also goes to the fat bottomed sheep, of whıch we took many photos, to the locals' bemusement. Theır wool ıs even shorn to accentuate theır plump derrıeres.

Kashgar was also a good place to relax, track down some famılıar food and coffee and cocktaıls.All ın all a worthwhıle de tour on our way through C. Asıa. 4-5 days was enough as we had all of Kyrgyzstan to explore. The return journey took us 13 hours and took us all the way to Osh. Pleasıngly the journey was smoother, though ıt also ınvolved an altercatıon wıth the drıver. We won!

Dushanbe and Beyond

Sorry for the abrupt ending of the last blog-It has been over 2 and a half weeks since then and lots has happened. Indeed, today is the last day of our trip in Central Asia. We're off for some R & R in Turkey tomorrow, but there's lots to catch up on before we explain how that came about...

Having survived the car journey to Dushanbe, which - having now finished all our car journeys in Central Asia (save tomorrow's trip to the airport...), we can confirm was indeed the worst of a bad bunch by far, we spent a couple of days recuperating in the capital. In contrast to the dire state of Tajikistan's road network, the capital is rather swish, and there are considerably more flash 4x4 and mercedes than you'll see on the streets of London town. Indeed the cheapest place to stay in the city for foreigners was $20 a person. But we enjoyed our couple of days, in the sweltering 40'c temperatures and were blissfully unaware of the two explosions that occured in the capital on the days of our stay. We visited the UK embassy the morning after surviving the journey, hoping for some home comforts and possibly high tea, instead we were advised to skip the 24hour bus drive to khorog in the pamirs and to take the tajik airlines flight instead. we were reassured that there hadnt been a crash on the route since the taliban shot down one plane a few years ago.

Not that we needed much persuasion, but the story we heard from James, an Australian guy at our hostel confirmed the plane was the way forward. His trip from Khorog to Dushanbe actually took 29 hours. Apparently 7 people in the region oif Kulyab had just been killed by Islamic militants and there had been several extra road blocks set up in attempot to limiot the latters' movements. James was thought to resemble one of the terrosists-a rebel Chechnyian leader and so was pulled out at gunpoint several times during his journey and searched. The car he was travelling in also caught fire, which is not that rare an occurence in these parts it seems. Just to make sure we took the plane, the owner of the hostel, a student of theology who took an interest in my (Benny's) Jewish an d Israeli background declared I was hot property amongst these militant types and had really better avoid the road. Plane it was...

Obtaining the plane tickets was another saga. It involved waking up at 5am twice, waiting for 6-7 hours, and ben getting bulldozed by an irate lady hellbent on getting to the counter first. The flight itself was another knuckle-whitening event. the 17 person plane flew 1 hour over the mountain passes - at times the wings were only 50m away from the peaks. Adding to our nerves was our uncertainty over the safety of the Tajik Airlines (apparently during Soviet times this was the only route where aeroflot pilots were paid danger money...). But they did the job and we arrived after a comparatively easy journey (with the alternative being the bus) in the Pamirs' capital town of Khorog.

Some people think Khorog is a hole. can't really argue with them. Nevertheless, after a good search we found a homestay. We walked in just as the Mama had served lunch to her friends and she insisted on us joining. Probably the best food we had in Tajikistan-Juicy chicken with fried potatoes and vegetables, washed down of course with the obligatory shot (or three) of Wodka. Other than that, we had a quick look around the Aga Khan Foundation which is very active in the area and among the Ismaili community, dinner with some Canadian fellows (surprisingly young) and made a quick escape to the Geisev Valley, home to the best apricots in the world. Spent a couple of days walking up the valley staying in people's homes. Really genuine, terriffic hospitality (even the taxi driver took us home and fed us(just after a mammoth bargaining session)), filling meals (5 fried eggs per person for breakfast!) and beautiful landscape. It was probably the closest we came to chilling in Tajikistan.

From Khorog we embarked on a trip through the Wakhan Valley, en route to the Pamir Highway. So, after a slightly nervous hitchhike to Ishkashim (nervous because the road is a stonesthrow from the Afghan border on the other side of the river) we teamed up with a French couple called Thomas and Chloe. Had it not been for them we would have had to shell out $300 between us to cover the jeep hire for the rest of the ride. A number of highlights from the roadtrip, including traipsing up a scree slope with Victoria's sprained ankle to view some petroglyphs, supposedly several thousand years old, but largely indistinguishable from more recent graffiti "Alexi 4 Svetlana" and the imitation petroglyph sketches of stick goats. underwhelming, but amusing. again, we wondered how much longer these ancient treasures would survive. Another highlight was our visit to the Bibi Fatima hot springs, located up a dusty mountain climb, and said to cure all manner of illnesses, and promote fertility. They were boiling hot, with water gushing out of the rocks. Ben climbed into the womb-like cavity where women hoping for children submerge themselves. I've put on a bit of weight since, but that's probably just the mutton fat...

Then there was Murgab. This was not a highlight. This is the worst town with the rudest meanest people we have ever come across. What a hole!! And we had to spend 3 days there. In fairness, the geography is pretty bleak. Think moon surface, but windy, dusty at high altitude, without its own water supply and with 2 rabid dogs for every household. No vegetables of course, unless you count rotten cabbage, which they do.Oh, and we got ripped off too.

We were desperate to leave Murghab, which it turned out was rather difficult to achieve. Briefly, we spent 13 hours sitting in the dilapidated soviet era minibus, 5 hours waiting for it to set off, 3-4 hours waiting for repairs during the several breakdowns en route, and 4 hours at the Tajik/Kyrgyz border. According to the guide book the journey from Murghab to Sary Tash (our destination in Kyrgyzstan) should only take 6-8 hours. Oh, and we got ripped off too. And our driver was a deeply unpleasant man. Added to the fun was our adventure at the border, where first the Tajik guides made us get out, in the snow at 4200 metres, emptied the contents of our bags onto the road and then the Kyrgyz had a go. They had the decency to let us into a room, where they went through absolutely everything, from shampoo bottles to dirty underwear. I thought something was up when they repeated Isaacs, Isaacs several time with disapproving looks. This was confirmed when they came across my Kippah and, heckling me with words such as Judea and Hibrani, attempted to make me put it on while they laughed and congratulated eachother on catching me. I politely refused to play their game and eventually they let us through, with some good humoured mentions of 'narcotic' 'narcotic' and shooting up gestures.

Anyway, we were now in Kyrgystan. Our first visit lasted 8 hours, as we headed straight over the Irkeshtam Pass to China.

Dushanbe, Khorog, Wakhan Valley

From Penjikent in northern Tajikistan we planned to go down to the capital (Dushanbe) and from there by either car or plane to the Badakshan region where we would explore the Wakhan valley (shared with Afghanistan) and travel the Pamir Highway up to Kyrgystan.

Before travelling down to Dushanbe we were aware that Tajikistan was pretty low down on the Human Development Index, but it wasn't until we were actually en route that we understood why. The country's main "road", which connects the two biggest cities and the north to the south is little more that a narrow dirt track scaling mountain passes with bottomless drops below, across rivers and through flooded tunnels. We were utterly petrified for the entire journey. Our driver boasted that he could make the trip in a record time of 4 hours (the guidebook says it should take 6 0r 7). He was a maniac and is likely to soon be dead. Before even reaching the mountains we had to ask him to slow down, nicely at first and finally with threats we would be forced to get out and not pay. His mother and friend laughed at us, yet when it came to the dodgy bits would pray incessantly. Chinese workers have been brought in to build a 50km long tunnel-we were in it for about an hour and a half. It was supposedly completed in 2004 but has been flooded for the last 2 years and is still a consctruction site. One has to travel in the dark as the tunnel is closed during the day. The dust makes visibility very poor and the water running through the tunnel is thigh deep at times. There are stretches where one has to go round the tunnel such that you are only inches from the edge and the raging river 4000 metre below. Victoria and I clasped sweaty hands for the entire ride fingernails digging into one another.

Miners and Drivers

Once we reached the guesthouse in Penjikent we devoured the bread and watermelon we were greeted with and sat in front of the t.v, stupified by our ordeal and totally captivated by Russian programming.

The next day we set out to explore the 7 lakes at the foot of the Fan Mountains. We arranged a homestay through our saviour, bought some bread, cheese, cucumbers and lots of water and clambered into an old soviet jeep. There were seats for 4 but, as well as a dozen watermelons, a few sacks of rice and several crates of veg, the driver successfully crammed 11 of us into the vehicle and off we went. Quite a drive-up dirt tracks and over rickety bridges. Both the scenery and the ride got our adrenaline pumping but the driver was careful and, unlike others to come we had complete faith in him. When he dropped us off he said he'd be going back down to the town at 4 o'clock the next day and we arranged to return with him. It turned out that the guy whose home we had hoped to stay in never passed the message on and it was only after several hours and much gesturing that we managed to find someone with keys to a room and access to a kettle. It was to be the first of many bread dinners...

Upon awaking the next day we were frantically informed that the only car for the day had passed by at 4 in the morning and that we would now have to hike our way down. Instead, we took a punt on being able to find accommodation further up the valley and headed into the mountains in attempt to reach the last of the 7 lakes. We made it after 4 hours walking and were immmediately invited over to join a group of 7 or so men that had driven up for the weekend. As they laid on shashlyk (barbecued skewers), plov, mutton fat stew, melon and vodka they explained they were all miners from the local Zerafshan Gold Company. They splashed about in the lake and danced and sang and laughed and drank and insisted that they give us a lift back to the town that night. At first this was tempting as we still didn't know if we would be able to find accommodation in the valley. However, it soon became clear they were more keen on us staying the night at their miners' camp. The drunkest one of the lot was also becoming overly attentive to Victoria and they were all encouraging her to dance and go for a swim, things a local woman would never dream of doing. Between nervous smiles we surreptitiously hatched a plan to extricate ourselves from the situation and, after the friendliest one of the lot tried to fall asleep in Victoria's lap we jumped up and announced that we were going for a short walk. They protested and made us promise we would return, which we did but this time Victoria smiled less readily and I wore a permanent frown. We made it clear we wouldn't be joining them at their camp and they eventually got the message.

Snatching glances over our shoulders we left them at the lake and scrambled down to the nearest settlement, confirmed there would be a car at 3am and found a guy willing to let us have a room for the night, which he wouldn't accept any money for. We holed up in our hovel till we saw the men drive through and, relieved, spent the evening skimming stones and reading. This time we caught our jeep and, though the road was scarier in the dark and despite the fact the radio was blaring out a religious sermon with what seemed to be frequent denunciations of 'Israeeel' we both fell asleep, Victoria on my shoulder and myself on a man who I think may well have been Osama Bin Laden.

Tajikistan-24th July (officially)-5th August, 2009

Been a while since last blog, predominantly due to fact that Tajikistan proved fairly short on internet cafes. Parents have been reassured of our safety and relative comfort so here comes a lengthy update...

Our entry to the country marked a fitting begining to a series of unsettling experiences. In fact, now that we have safely left, we can divulge we spent much of the time with sweaty palms and racing hearts.

I (benny) must begin with a confession-I messed up in a big, stupid way. We travelled from Samarkand to the tajik border, said to be the worst of a bad bunch in terms of arbitrary closures and tempermental guards in a region famed for bureaucratic obstacles, believing our Tajik visas to commence on the 23rd of the month. It was only after receving our exit stamps on our single entry Uzbek visas and crossing the 100m stretch of no-man's land to the Tajik controls that we were informed that our visas actually began on the following day. We about-turned and humiliated and disgusted with ourselves (ok, disgusted with Ben alone) headed back to Uzbekistan. There we were greeted with laughter and sneers and told we would have to spend the night on the 100 metre stretch. They kindly pointed out that we had better not stray too far from the road, as the area had all been landmined. Adding to our woes was our lack of water or food, a tent or any shelter from the hot sun, ferocious mosquitoes, and tens of armed soldiers on either side of the strip.

In attempting to remedy the nutritional aspects of our predicament, the uzbek guards kindly allowed us to be fleeced by their canteen lady, who relieved us of our remaining uzbek som to purchase some bottles of water and some stale bread. We then sat back on the road, with ben approaching passing tourists - (Victoria felt too humiliated and angry with ben and sulked instead) - to ask if they had any spare food, water, or even a tent they could loan us for the night. Reinforcing our faith in humanity and the goodness of people, we gladly received some bananas, bread, chocolate spread and water. But still, chocolate spread notwithstanding, our prospects did not look too good.

However, whilst we contemplated spending a night in no-man's land, a saviour appeared (who shall remain nameless for his own safety), a local man, who believed there could be some scope for negotiation. Inconceivably to us, within one hour we were sitting in a minibus on the tajik side of the border on our way to the comfort of a guesthouse in penjikent, safe and relieved, albeit shaken and with slightly lighter wallets.

I (Ben) spent most of the time contemplating how I would explain myself to Victoria's parents. I don't know how to. Nick and Jennie, sorry, sorry, sorry. Victoria is now in charge of all passport and visa matters.

There are more horror stories to come, but we both feel drained at the mere recall of this episode, and will return to the blog later...

Bukhara, Samarkand, Shakrisabz

Just a word more about Khiva-Though the twon itself was a let down in some ways we took a car oput to the Kyzylkum desert in the republic of Karakalpakistan-home to the fast receeding Aral sea to check out some ancient silk road fortresses. Pretty astonidhing that these sand castles, palaces back in the day, are still standing. They are totally exposed to the elements and are built of nothing but mud. Despite supposed UNESCO Heritage classification visitors are free to scramble up and down them and there is little sign of any protection.

Bukhara- Before getting on to the place itself, the minivan ride over is worth a mention. We shared the vehicle with about 16 men, all of whom got stuck into to a bottle of vodka within minutes of setting off. It was 10:30 am. Victoria and I took turns staying awake to make sure the driver didnt partake. Fortunately he turned down their offer. He was wild enough as it was, casually overtaking at blind turns driving at 140km/hr on terrible roads and screaming at whoever dared get in his way. Not a pleasant man- he gave a hearty laugh after we hit and killed a dog...

Anyway, one of the highlights of Bukhara was Friday night dinner with a Bukharran Jewish family that we caught up with sa they were leaving shul. I saw a guy with a kippah on and shouted shabbat shalom across the street. His immediate response, in broken hebrew was 'over to my house for dinner. lets go!'. Although we had already eaten this was just the sort of opportunity we had in mind when we read of Bukhara's 2500 year old jewish community and off we went for a wonderful spread. WE spoke in hebrew, russian and english. More orthodox than any dinner ive been to but thoroughly welcoming nonetheless.

We also had a good time wandering around bukhara under the guidance of Azamat, a bukharan guy we met in the train station at tashkent, who showed us all the sites, bargained for cut price admission tickets, and showed us the good places to eat. Another highlight was the trip to the local hamam (turkish bath house) - a 500 year old structure, where we had to enter after official hours through a latched door, as clearly admitting mixed couples into a traditionally male hamam had to be done (for a considerable profit) on the quiet.

Samarkhand - another nerve wrecking journey, this time with a female driver (probably the only one in the country) who drove at manic speed - in fact similar in most respects to our dog murdering minicab driver - who frequently had her eyes and hands on her apparent female lover in the passenger seat. This was quite suprising to observe openly in a society where male homosexuality is illegal, and female homosexuality is not acknoweldged to exist.

Samarkhand, of course, has many beautiful old buildings, all (again, of course) substantially restored to their former 14th century plus glory. Pleasingly our hostel also had a shady courtyard with bed/cushioned seats prolific in Uzbekistan (perfect for lounging on) and ample supplies of chai and water melon. so we had a good spot to chill out of the sun and away from the sights. we also found it amusing to flick through the 700 channels on the cable TV, to find rare gems - did you know for example, that the Pentagon has its own TV channel? Neither did we! we are sure it is a source of sound unbiased information and of course will be seeking it out at home...

Shakrisabz - We decided to escape the city and the sight-seeing palava with a trip to this southern town, which has easy access to the Zerafshan mountains and , when the government allows the Hissar ange as well. Alas, the latter is off limits thanks to various political goings-on and we set our sights on what was marketed as a sublime, remote mountain lake where we could chill out and cool off. Having paid over the odds for the trip out, arranged through the homestay, our suspicions were aroused when we drove along the flat plain , 15 minutes out of town and got out at what appeared to be the irrigiation water basin, and overflow from a nearby village, Some curious pondlife too. This didnt deter the crowds of men, some of whom totally starkers, who did little to hide their excitement at the prospect of a western woman taking a dip. All in all not conducive to a a very relaxing swim, so after a quick dip (didnt want to offend the driver), with victoria in all her clothes we headed back for a long shower.

Today we went for a hike in the mountains, declining the offer of an arranged tour from the hostel and paying a fifth of the price by going it alone. Good to get into thje mountains and our appetites for the Fan range in Tajikistan, where we head tomorrow has been whetted.

Mosques, medrassas and minarets (15th-20th July)

Khiva-Following our endless train journey through the furnace that is the Uzbek desert we arrived in the city of Urgench. Here we negotiated a reasonably priced taxi over to the ancient city of Khiva. Slight altercation on arrival upon which the driver decided to triple the agreed price and was determined to hang on to our luggage until we coughed up. He underestimated Victoria's strengh and after the red mist descended sheprized our bags from his clutch and away we went to find our hostel.

The city is remarkable upon first sight- surrounded by a mud packed wall that has been standing strong since the 12th century. Incredible tile work, intricate wood carvings and pleasingly clean toilets.

But a downside to this ancient city, and one which is unfortunately shared by most of Uzbekistan's prized heritage sites, is that the buildings, whilst beatiful, have been stripped off virtually all their original functions. Hence mosques and madrassas built in the 14th century have become markets selling tourist souvenirs, or rather empty museams. in short, they seem to be viewed (and indeed are) the cash cow for tourist dollars. of course the suppression of religion under the Soviets (and perhaps to some extent the secular current authorities) has helped in this. undoubtably this impacts on the experience of visiting these sites. so having now done the big three (khiva, bukhara and samarkhand), ben and i are rather old buildinged out... The other interesting issue when visiting these sites is how much liberty has been taken with the rather substantial restoration efforts. these buildings have been restored to their former glory - back centuries ago, but of course this negates the events and the passage of time in between when they disintegrated and fell into disrepair.

Though theres much more to blog about, including our shabbat dinner in Bukhara, we are being munched on by mossies and havent eaten for too long, so we'll save it for another day.

Off to Shakrisabs tomorrow for some mountain air, then on to tajikistan at the end of the week.