N 42.28.43 E78.23.09 Glorious Kyrgyzstan mountains

Momos (dumplings)  we met
some variation of these all the way from Turkey

Whitewater rafting along the Kazakstan border
with a group of Russian guides

Our home on Lake Issykul

delicious soft ice cream in a tiny
town near the walnut forest

We were in Kyrgyzstan from 6 to 22 June. Then we travelled through China and Tibet where all google products, including Blogger, were not accessible. So this post is being composed a month after our time in Kyrgyzstan. Time for reflection, but also a bit of creative memory, perhaps, where memory fails.

If Uzbekistan was beautifully restored silk road buildings, then Kyrgyzstan was Mother Nature showing off all her natural beauty. Except for one night in Bishkek, it was bush camps, hostels and homestays. We shared the beauty of the mountains, lakes, streams and alpine meadows with the local nomads in their felted yurts as well as their cows, horses, sheep and even a herd of yaks.

Begiam, our Kyrgyzstan guide, was as different as her country Where our guide in Uzbekistan, Bec, was a polished shoes, dress pants and shirt city guy, Begiam was coolmax shirt, technical pants and well worn hiking boots. Her love was her countryside and she did her best to share that love with us. She was shy and quiet, surprised that the guys in our group took an equal share of camp clean up and set up and was always willing to pitch in where needed. In a quiet moment, she mentioned that if she could travel out of country, she would love to visit Italy. That she had learned Italian in college. That she had trained to be a professional opera singer but there was no one to sponsor her for further education. The parallels to the shopkeeper in Tblisi who had also wished she could travel, Victims of the former soviet systems. The blessing of choice we have in first world countries.

Kyrgystan in some ways is a very new country. Like the other "former stans" it was created by the Soviets as a way to manage and administrate central Asia. Before that, nomadic tribes controlled areas or passed through. But in other ways, civilization here is as old as the silk road. Most written history has been removed to Moscow and the people of Kyrgyzstan are just starting to relearn their past.

Borders with neighbors are touchy issues. Large groups can't travel into the Fergana valley because of risk of terrorism - the valley is divided between Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan and Tajikistan thinks it should be theirs. the border with China is almost 200 km of no mans land.

Kyrgyzstan is a small poor country. It's resources are water, hydropower and the Kumtor gold mine (jointly owned with Canada). Nomads take their herds of sheep and cows up to the high pastures for summer grazing. The shepherds are actually employed by a number of farmers to care for the flocks as they travel which explained why we would see mixed groups of sheep wherever we went.

Our last homestay was at Karakol (which is also the name for a kind of sheep's wool that is very curly) The eagerly awaited felting workshop was as fun as I had hoped. My Calypso family tolerated my enthusiasm and many curious questions. I made notes of the meanings of some of the designs and the one I used on my journal quilt is the auroch (sheeps horns) symbolizing prosperity - not money, but health, happiness and family. Begaim also sent me traditional Kyrgyz designs that I will have a place in future quilts.

And following up with the rest of the water story- Kyrgyzstan would say that Uzbekistan keeps turning off their natural gas supply and what else can Kyrgyzstan do but threaten to turn off the water?

One of the designs Begaim sent

What I will remember about Turkmenistan.

The desert in all it's changing glory. Different colours, different patterns, sometimes very flat but at times in high hills. Hand placed nets of reeds along the roads to try and hold the sand in place.

The desert plants with beautiful tiny flowers if you looked carefully. The carefully tended plants where people were trying to make them grow.

Camels everywhere, apparently belonging to somebody but seeming to be their own camel. Sheep and shepherds where there was a bit of water. Insects and lizards.

Waiting by our truck on the side of the road and watching the little girls in their long traditional dresses and flip flops or bare feet running and playing. They were the first to come and check us out, then brought their little brothers and then their mums. Smiles the universal language.

Stopping for lunch on a concrete sidewalk in a small town and having the lady from the house on the corner invite us to use her toilet. Ok it was basic, but it was the best available. Smiles all around. Then discovering we were eating our lunch on another family's front yard when another lady opened her door to discover 19 people and a big truck on her step. She smiled, went past and then came back. Then she opened her door to show us her children (or show us to her children). More smiles and waves.

Playing tag with a British couple in their overland vehicle. Finally stopping for an hour or so on the road while our guys helped them make emergency repairs. Numerous chats about roads, border points, vehicles, where you've been and where to next. Spirit of overlanding.

The Darvaza gas crater. It was a fun evening and a wild 4X4 ride there and back. Interesting picture opportunities.

Finding a fabric shop in our brief bit of freedom and negotiating for 1/4 meter (not 25 meters!) of the perfect desert fabric for Turkmenistan's square on my travel quilt.

You can choose to get caught up in politics and bureaucracy or you can remember the important things. Just my thoughts.

N 40.23.05 E 71.47.15 Taxi Convoy to Fergana

If you look at a map of Uzbekistan you will see that the south east bit is joined by a very tiny neck of land. Odyssey's description of the Fergana valley is "lush and beautiful but the local inhabitants don't always agree with the central authorities in Tashkent". Consequently, the government doesn't allow busses or vehicles with more than five passengers over the pass into the valley.

So, Calypso, with Nico and Mikkel, slipped out of Tashkent last night doing her best to look like a truck. We left this morning in a convoy of taxis for the adventure. The plan was that the front car, with Bec and Theresa would start the explanations at any roadblocks.

First a word about drivers in central Asia. The lane markings are merely suggestions and usually the best place to drive is straddling the center line. Waiting patiently doesn't happen and passing with oncoming traffic is expected. Drivers communicate with taps of the horn - c'mon, get going, hey I'm at your corner and about to pass... Also to contend with on the roads are pedestrians, bicycles, donkey carts, tractors, scooters.

Driving in Calypso, you hardly notice this because we are the slow object everybody is passing. However, today we got the full benefit of the action on a very busy windy road with lots of truck traffic in both directions. I think our driver was a little frustrated because he was required to keep formation (as the last car, there were five cars ahead of him that he couldn't pass).

We only had to stop at one checkpoint and register our passports. It was a gorgeous drive over a pass at 1800 meters through the Pamir mountains (which are leading toward the Himalayas). Then down into this huge valley of prosperous(for the area) farms. Fergana produces most of the cotton, silk, and rice in Uzbekistan.

Along the way, we stopped for a lunch of pilov at a local tea house.

Last stop before our hotel was at a silk factory. They still use all hand methods and we got to see the process in detail (too much detail for some, but absolutely fascinating for me). And a piece of ikat silk (hand spun, hand died with natural dyes, hand woven) is coming home, too. Also a wee bit of the raw silk fiber and a piece of hand woven Iranian wool used to make carpets. One more piece of trivia is that the bright yellow is the Acacia flower.

Our hotel in Fergana is very decadent. And it's off to Kyrgyzstan in the morning.

Calypso made it over the pass like the trooper she is. Of course she's a truck. Just a wee bit of a problem with her driver going the wrong way down a street in Tashkent, apparently.

More on our time in Uzbekistan soon.

N 41.17.22 E 69.16.08 Ten glorious days in Uzbekistan

Meeting Bec as we entered customs from our ordeal getting out of Turkmenistan was like night and day. It was clear that he was actually assisting the process. Once out, he explained bottled water (which brands were safe) as well as the complicated system of money changing. Uzbekistan IS a police state and there would be no ATMs to access our banks and only tourist businesses would accept USD and occasionally credit cards. There is also an active black market on exchange rates. Signs are in Uzbek and Russian and outside tourist areas English isn't understood. After each police check, he would just smile and shrug his shoulders.

The countries of central Asia are a construct of Soviet Russia. Before that, nomads travelled the area and there was a succession of city states ruled by a strong dictator. This combination of old civilizations and only recent settlement was very evident in Uzbekistan. Bec was certainly pro Soviet in what had been done for his country, including education, health care, infrastructure. It was equally fascinating discussing geo politics - Russia continuing to maintain influence in these supposedly independent countries by financing dams in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan which could mean no water for Uzbekistan if they didn't behave. Hint: Kyrgyzstan has a different story about cross border water issues. The disappearance of the Aral sea because Russia wanted to be independent in cotton. China is also an active player, particularly with commercial goods.

We travelled the cities of the silk road from Kiva through Bukhara, Samarkand and Tashkent to Fergana. Madrassas, mosques and caravanserais. Traditional crafts. Fascinating foods. All mixed with a fascinating Bec commentary about the past as it affects the present.

Words and names I know more about. Majorica tiles (glazed with camel's milk, egg yolk and bull's blood with natural colours). Ikat fabric (threads measured for 240 meters of fabric, bundled together, wrapped with tape or thread then dyed and then woven. Ghengis Khan (not a good person, he destroyed everything in his way and left nothing behind). Emir Timur aka Tamerlane (nasty guy if you crossed him but he spent his time in power building and supporting education and learning).

Rice, cotton, silk and natural gas. Not enough water. Chronic shortage of diesel (which resulted in an interesting chase to fill our tanks between Samarkand and Tashkent.)

Perhaps what has been most fascinating is that we have now become a unique experience for locals. People wave and smile. If we are parked, they come to check out our truck, Calypso. They ask to have their photos taken with us. This last item usually ends up being a mutual photo shoot and chance to find out where we all come from.

More Highlights:
Kiva. Beautiful floaty dress. Uzbec cotton, fabric woven in Kiva. Printed in Kiva. Hand made by the lady who sold it to me. Yes, I know that it is cotton that has strongly contributed to the disappearance of the Aral sea. Also a silk embroidered square for my quilt and some under the counter thread from the silk carpet workshop. Uzbekistan second in silk production to China. Most is exported to Russia for parachutes.
Bukhara. Carpets. One of the early places for Buddism. Also Zoroastrianism.
Samarkand. Staying in a former caravanserai. Silk ikat scarf. Discussion about Suzani embroidery with the lady who created the panel I bought. Adrass fabric is 50% silk and 50% cotton. The mausoleum with geometry to build from a square to a circle plus symbols from all the major religions. Hey, this is the crossroads of civilization.
Tashkent. Capital city. Almost two million people. The most fantastic haircut experience. Quick trip to a dentist to rebuild one of my teeth - another very positive experience.
Fergana valley. Agriculture. Population mainly Tajik. An interesting taxi convoy to get there. Interesting borders to give three countries a bit of the valley. A side trip to a silk factory where everything from cocoon to fabric is hand made. Step by step making ikat Some more retail therapy.

Washing the sands of Turkmenistan out of our
clothes. 

My lovely dress

Mosque designed by a famous mathmatician
using the theory of how to move from a square
to a circle.

Modelling an 18th century burka

turning cocoons into thread by hand

it never ceased to amaze when you would
find absolute decadence in the
middle of nowhere (Fergana Valley)

Ikat fabric.  A bit became flowers on a journal
quilt square.

Interesting fact I remembered. We encountered a significant number of gypsies in Uzbekistan. Our guide explained that these people came from India in the 14th century as slaves to Tamerlane. Only in 2006 were they able to obtain identity cards-and gain access to education for their children and "real" jobs. No wonder their chief occupation is begging.

N 37.57.10 E 58.21.54 Baku to Ashgabat in six or so days

Day 1. We are up, packed and on the road heading to Baku. Plan is to get to Turkmenistan embassy this morning and apply for visas and hopefully book a ferry across the Caspian sea for tonight or tomorrow. Turns out the embassy is closed for poet's day.

Day 2. The embassy is still closed for another holiday. Hopefully tomorrow.

Day 3. 9:00 am. We are on a minibus heading to the embassy. Our driver gets lost several times and stops to consult with the local taxi drivers. The embassy is a small door in a back alley with one local police officer. We wait and visit with the others in line to get a paper that we take to a special bank to pay for the visa then back to the embassy for the visa. By 1:00 we are back at the hotel packing our stuff and and waiting for ferry tickets. By 5:00 we are at the pier and prepare to load. Our passport info gets recorded by hand in a book by the ferry company, then again by hand as we clear customs out of Azerbaijan.

The ferry fits in the "not too bad" category. We have rooms for four, a place to hang out and working toilets. By 11:00 we are sailing out of harbor enjoying the lights of Baku.

Day 4. As promised, in 12 hours we are across the Caspian and can see the port of Turkmenbashi. We anchor and spend our time counting ships also anchored and waiting to dock. We start moving at 6:00 and are docking by 7:00. Then we wait again because the customs people were not expecting us (or were having a meal or something).

We meet our "guide" who has filled in the declaration forms, in Turkmen, and has us sign them. One by one we begin the process. Check passport, enter info into system. Baggage through a scanner. Luggage checked by hand. Our "guide" asking if we have any weapons or drugs and we say no.

One of our fellow travelers has a few painkillers with codeine- what we could buy without prescription - and is then interrogated over night while we sleep on the floor in the waiting area.

Day 5. It is clear by now that we have a minder not a guide. We wait until he tells us that we can get on Calypso to travel to another town where our fellow traveller's drug dealing/smuggling will be investigated. We stop at police checkpoints to confirm where we are going. From 11:00 to 5:00 we wait on the road while forms are filled, interviews are had and decisions are made. Final decision - codeine is not on their banned list.

We head toward a bush camp. Our minder picks a sandy spot just off the main road, and we have our first "get ourselves stuck/unstuck" experience. The camp is visited twice by police.

Day 6. On the road. Our first police checkpoint is just up the road and there is a second one before we arrive in Ashgabat. We also stop for a truck wash as nobody is allowed to bring a dirty vehicle into "glorious Ashgabat". Or risk fines. The hotel is fine and clearly the place where foreigners stay. No wifi and we surrender our passports as well as three photos.

Our time in Turkmenistan continues like this. Police checks. Our minder constantly on the phone letting someone know where we are. Politically correct tour of Ashgabat. No we can't go to the bazaar because it is too busy. Two bush camps on the way to the border in the dessert with no access to water, disposing of garbage, or local people.

We did have a couple of lovely contacts with an older British couple, including roadside repairs to their overland truck.

The gas crater was also fascinating and good photos were had.

Exiting the country is more of the same. Passports checked, baggage checked, truck inspected minutely. Twice. None of us said goodbye to our minder.

Moral of the experience, Turkmenistan is a police state that is exceedingly suspicious of western travelers. Don't expect to have a smooth sailing through the bureaucracy. Bring a sense of humor and a good book. It's the only way to get from Azerbaijan to Uzbekistan.

My regret is that the landscapes were fascinating, the people smiled and waved easily to us as we passed, there were opportunities everywhere to learn about the desert and the people but our minder was not allowed to let us do so.

Packed and ready to leave Baku

Typical scenery

Camels apparently are owned by someone
but they looked pretty independent

Glorious but deserted Ashgabat

The gas crater

out of order, but here's our quarters on the ferry

the morning after - making a meal while
waiting for permission to leave the border

And still waiting.  The fellow in blue jeans was a biker waiting for
the member of his party who was detained.  You meet fellow
travelers in the most interesting places  

view from the ferry as we waited
and waited to be allowed to
dock

N 40.22.33 E 49.51.07 Baku

We have 72 hours in Azerbaijan - or at least Calypso has or face a steep fine. We arrived at the border crossing from Georgia ( passing under the "good luck" sign) having tidied away any evidence of being in Armenia. Other than the entry and exit stamps in the passport. Surprisingly easy and quick process with the only problem being the friendly question to me - what is the name of the Canadian men's basketball team. I offered a hockey team, but they let me in anyway.

Azerbaijan is clearly more prosperous than Georgia or Armenia. Few half finished or derelict buildings. Lots of industrial activity and more stores than just markets - computers, hair salons, furniture, building supplies. Even as we pass the small farms, there are more animals and the houses are better kept. We are following the mountains south east toward Baku, but the land is fairly flat and definitely drier. Think southern Alberta and you'll have a good idea.

We spent our first night in Seki - which in Azeri has a little squiggle under the "s" to make it sound "sh" and the "e" is upside-down and sounds bit like an "a". Oldest town in Azerbaijan - about 2000 BC. One of the stops on the silk road - our hotel was on the site of an original caravanserai and renovated a la soviet style in the 1970s. What was fascinating was a quick tour of the Khan's summer palace. Built in the mid 1700s and not destroyed by the soviets. Almost all is original not restored. Beautiful vivid frescoes painted by local artists. Couldn't take photos but am including a couple of photos of postcards. We ended our night at a restaurant recommended by lonely planet - discounts for veterans of the Karabakh war and hunters. Definitely a hunting theme to the decor.

Day two, heading toward Baku. Getting drier and hotter. Pipelines running above the surface and resting on rocks or cement bricks to level them. Bringing oil from central Asia and the Azeri offshore wells from Baku to the Black Sea or to Russia or Iran.

Checked out the mud volcanoes just north of Baku and bushcamped there. The mud is cool and the burbling is created by escaping natural gas. Great fun watching, listening, feeling.

Day three. Up and out of camp before 6:00. We are getting really good at this. Gear for three to five days is coming into the hotel as Calypso gets put in a Custom compound till she gets on the ferry. Getting out of Azerbaijan and into Turkmenistan is an iffy science.

Baku is something else. 1.8 million people and scads of oil money. We walked the park on the Caspian and checked out the buildings. Workers sweeping leaves and polishing the sidewalks. And got taken in by a cup of Nescafe for over 4 CAD and then a lovely lunch in the mall for more than I wish to admit.

Lonely Planet 2000 talked about the pollution and devastation coming into Baku. Much of it has been hidden by high and beautiful walls along the highway.

Note about leaving being an iffy science. Turkmenistan embassy is closed today for a conference and doesn't usually do visas except Monday or Friday. They would be ok with us applying on arrival, but Azerbaijan won't let us out. Ah well, getting in was ridiculously simple even if I didn't know the name of the Canadian men's basketball team. My brother, Tom, tells me it is "Canadian"".

Gas price translates to CAD 1.18

courtyard of our caravanserai
outside, it is a desert

gas pipeline

Mark, Jordan and Steve playing in the mud

Turkish beer and lemonade in Baku