Bukhara, Samarkand, Dushanbe

As I write this, I am sitting in Dushanbe, sipping a Coke made at Bagrami Industrial Estate, Kabul, Afghanistan. I am surprised the Coke has made it here with no bullet holes! It is the first time since my early childhood that I have had a Coke from a can where the top actually comes off, leaving a little triangle to drink through. Afghan Coke is much less fizzy than other Cokes. I digress.

The journed from Buchara to Samarkand should have been a straightforward two and a half or three day cycle through populated areas(hence easy, due to the abundance of shops and teahouses.)I didn't get going from Bukhara until about 4pm due to the need to sort out a few things before I left. I had found the bicycle bazaar that morning, which had the usual unfortunate choice between Russian or Chinese goods. Some of the inner tubes on sale read "Made in the USSR." I eventually found a decent enough looking Russian tyre, and bought it (having haggled the price down a little, I was then bought a Coke by the stall holder). I gave an old lady begger a minuscule amount of money at the stall (the stallholder had done the same thing) and she gave me the traditional Central Asian greeting of washing her face with imaginary water.

After some beautifully sweet melon, and having taken my B&B hosts' recipe for Plov, I set off into a glowing evening. I managed about 50km that day, further slowed down by a punctured tyre. I stopped at a large commercial teahouse and asked some assembled gentlemen if I could sleep there. Before long, I was sitting in front of a mountain of meat stew, a huge salad, some roasted apricot stones, a steaming pot of green tea, and the world's biggest sugar lumps that they insisted I put into my tea. I had the four kind Uzbek gents for company that night (one of whom owned the tea house, and would accept no payment). They gave me blankets, and showed me where I could sleep.

The following day I became a severe victim of, we shall say, "Travellers' Tummy Trouble" which is no fun at all when you are trying to cover some ground and there are absolutely no loos anywhere. Where there is a "loo" in central Asia, it is a pit with a hole in the floorboards. Flies and mosquitoes -the occasional wasp- enjoy life in these pits. I had to stop early, and I was very quickly invited into an Uzbek home by the kind father when I asked for directions to the "gostinitsa" (guest house.) There I was treated to a bath, which consisted of a sauna (not lit, thankfully!) with some buckets of water to pan over oneself- one of the buckets had been heated on the stove. They also gave me some soap to clean my clothes but I felt too awful to do it. There was a son of about 15, who liked volleyball and a little daughter of about 7, both of whom were very friendly. The language spoken at home was Russian rather than Uzbek, and the children go to a Russian school. The father was half Russian half Uzbek. With some shivers and a slight headache, I couldn't eat much of the lovely supper, but the fresh Apricot juice was delicious. I slept outside, under my mosquito net. When I went to get dressed in the morning I found that the mother had very kindly washed my filthy clothes for me.

The next day I felt much better, and managed a giant 130km, to within a spitting distance of Samarkand. I stayed in another teahouse where I shared a room with the cook, at no cost. Teahouses are rather annoying because they often bring you all sorts of things you didn't order, and then charge you for them. When you get a free bed out of it, it doesn't matter so much!

A mere 40km the following morning, and I was in Samarkand.

"We travel not for trafficking alone,
By hotter winds our fiery hearts are fanned.
For lust of knowing what should not be known
We take the Golden Road to Samarkand"

--James Elroy Flecker (as in my Lonely Planet Central Asia)

The town itself is an ordinary large bustly city, however the historical sites that peer above the haze there are simply awe-inspiring due to their enormous size, and the fact that they actually satisfy the romantic, exotic ideas implanted in our heads by lines as quoted above. The soaring height, the medressa arches, the domes and the intricate blue tiles are mesmerising, especially when you position yourself so that they are all you can see. If you get the chance to go there, take it up! It was particularly good to have seen Khiva and Bukhara beforehand, building up to the majesty of Samarkand.

On one morning, I woke up at 5am and tipped the policemen to let me climb the minaret on the Registan to watch the rising sun over the city, and the panoramic view. It was very worthwile- and this is the only time they will let you do it!

Samarkand afforded a superb hostel ($6), with free breakfast, tea and watermelon and $2 hearty dinners. It was like an oasis of relaxation, and many travellers recharge their batteries there for a few days.

I met some more British Mongol Ralliers who were taking a more leisurely route through Asia, and explored the town with them. They were a really great bunch of guys, and one of them, Felix, is a current student at St Cuthberts', Durham!

After I had recharged and drunk lots of green tea, and ice cream, (the little chap in the ice cream shop greeted me with great affection when he realised I had been back loads of times, each time with people from the hostel)I headed east towards the Tajik border.

When I got to the border, I cleverly hid the USD that I was carrying under the innersoles of my shoes in case a greedy customs officer were tempted to try to extract it from me. It was when I was filling out my Uzbek customs exit form that I realised I must have also hidden my customs enrty form and registration dockets in my innersoles with the cash! Oh NO!

I had been chatting jovially with one of the customs officers, who said initially, "Da, Bolshoi Problem!" (Yes, Big problem!) when I asked. Then he said it would only envolve a small "fine," then with a little bit more banter, they let me out of the country with no issues and no searches.

On the Tajik side, the kindly customs and immigration officer helped me fill out the Russian forms and welcomed me into his country. The hills of Tajikistan were immediately visible- very exciting. If in Uzbekistan, children seem to do everything that adults do- run shops, drive cattle, hassle customers, the children of Tajikistan are all riding donkeys or donkey carts.

The men nearly all wear tall skull caps, worn more like crowns, sitting up on the top of the head. The women wear long flowing dresses, with bright patterns or bright stripes. They also wear matching trousers under the dresses. With respect, they remind me a little of Wilma Flintstone! Headscarves are now very common, but they are simply tied around the back of the head, and do not cover the neck, or all of the hair. All women, with very few exceptions wear this uniform. I have observed families where the women and girls are in traditional garb but the men and boys are in western clothes.

My first night in Tajikistan was in Pendjikent, where I asked the first person I found where the guest house was. He refused to speak Russian to me, and insisted on speaking German which was highly irritating. All he said in English was "I am a student of Leningrad University" which was highly irritating! He led me, even more annoyingly to the decrepit Hotel Intourist (I later found out that the guide book has rather a nice place in it). This place had no water in the en suite bathroom, meaning that guests have to use the pit outside. Despite this the filthy loo still dripped, producing a sea of water flooding the carpet.

The following day I managed to change money with a friendly well-to-do Tajik lady who needed dollars "for Dushanbe" and I had some breakfast of fresh bread and strawberry juice at the thriving market, the foothills in the background.

I was invited into people's homes three times that day, but unfortunately had to decline each invitation because I really wanted to make some progress. One chap was very old in a remote village, dressed highly traditionally, and spoke very good English. He was a retired English teacher. At one store I bought some cold water, and I was treated to a selection of Russian and Iranian biscuits. He also refused to allow me to pay for a couple of AA batteries.

The road was hilly and bad, making progress slow. The following day, I met some more British Mongol Ralliers who gave me some fresh water and purifying tablets. It was a real lift to see them as the weather was hot, and my motivation levels were sagging.

That day I ran into some seriously odd people. In one teahouse (I simply couldn't use the loo as the room and the vicinity were scattered with turds), I bought a big bottle of Coke, to find it poured out to the first punter who walked in without asking me! Enraged by the annoying child who wouldn't stop touching me and asking annoying questions, mainly about the value of my bike, and my casio watch, I picked up my Coke and moved to leave. Another guy said "Hey, I haven't had any Coke!" No one said thank you. They then pestered me to let them ride my bike, which I refused and sped away. That was in the town of Ayni, which still has a majestic statue of Lenin in the centre.

I stopped at another teahouse later that day. No coke. No Fanta. No food. No Juice. Only tea and nescafe and bread. And two children from hell who would not stop shouting at me with menaging grins. They were both filthy and had horribly eroded teeth. The staff (parents?) did nothing to make them go away, and later picked up my mobile phone and tried to use it even though I had expressly told them not to (I don't have much credit at all). They seemed to think the whole thing was hilarious.

After a severely tyring day, I found a teahouse that let me camp in the grounds. When I told them I didn't need help putting up my tent (it is truly a one man job, and is very fast when done as such), they sent a teenager o help anyway, and were rather surly when I sent him away. I then had to coach him through putting the thing up. When I pointed out to him he was about to step on a turd, he reached down, pcked it up and threw it away! I was in rather a grump at the end of the day- especially after the added "extras" I was charged for at the teahouse, such as sugar!

Next day, I headed up the Ansov pass. The road itself up the pass is new- thanks to the Chinese road workers who are toiling away on it. It is closed to
traffic, making it rather a pleasant,if tough 2000+ metre ascent. At the top was a tunnel, under construction, which was open to bicycles. The first 50 yards were terrifying because there was no light, and a lot of water flowing through it, but soon there were dim lights lighting the 5km way. I felt like Indiana Jones! On the other side, I was greeted with a breathtaking view of snowcapped summits and glaciers (It is AUGUST!), and deep green valleys. I really felt privileged to be there, especially since that particular place is out of bounds to most people at the moment.

There followed 90 km of glorious pure downhill to Dushanbe. At the bottom of the valley, there flowed a fast white river and the road followed this. Nearing Dushanbe there were very smart teahouses on the river with swimming pools. I also went past a presidential palace that straddled the river and could have been modelled on Chateau de Chennonceax in the Loire Valley.

I didn't quite reach Dushanbe that night, and stayed in one of the teahouses-cum-hotels, which was quite expensive but had a warm shower. The chap I dealt with was an 18 year old Tajik who goes to a Turkish school, and is taught wholly in English. I found him friendly at first, but then highly irritating as his attitudes could have been taken directly out of Borat. He found it hilarious that we have a Queen in the UK "She is a woman! That is terrible for your country!" and he was obsessed with an idea of western women learned from, it seems, MTV. This, he backed up with movie extracts saved onto his mobile phone. When I was asleep in bed, he burst into my room, turned on the lights, and asked me to help his friend fill out a visa application form that had to be done in English. I refused.

In Dushanbe, the following day, I met up with Tom and Blaise again who have had a totally different experience of the people of this country, talking only of kindness, respect,and generosity. These have been the hallmarks of my interraction with the vast majority of the people I have encountered on this trip. You can meet bad eggs in every country you visit and I have unfortunately met a few here- that said, no one has ever been really really unpleasant. I have no doubt however that the rest of the trip here will be of a different nature.

Dushanbe itself is a pleasant, leafy town with surprisingly western amenities, a thriving market, and colourful women as always. It is beautifully tame, and I have been enjoyng the normal food in the restaurants (a break from mutton!). I had pizza last night in a Turkish restaurant, chicken for lunch at a Georgian restaurant, and supper is going to be an Indian curry. Well, I am not far from India and Pakistan!

I am extremely excited about heading to the Pamir Region -my GBAO Pamir travel permit arrived hand delivered to my hotel by a very kind man this morning. It is going to be a challenge making it over the multiple mountain passes over 3000 metres, but by all reports it will be worth it.

My tajik number is

927916740

The international code for Tajikistan is +992

So to call me, it will be either +992 927 9166 740

or, +992 791 6740

I can't work it out, but if you try all alternatives you should get through!