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Wednesday 2004-03-24 - Amsterdam, the Netherlands
Visa: papers, papers, papers
Filling in the visa application forms (Iran, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and China) wasn’t all that hard — except for working out entry and exit dates, needed for most countries. The itinerary we got just works by day numbers, so I had to count through them to work out where we’d be on which dates. (Well, my parents will want to know that as well.) I added a safety margin either way of about 5 days: I have plenty of experience with all sorts of mishaps that can change a planned itinerary; arriving late isn’t a problem, but arriving early or leaving late could be.
Then when I wanted to staple the passport photographs to the forms, I suddenly ran out of staples. Off to the store…
After lunch I’m off to the visa agency (conveniently in Amsterdam) to deliver my passport with all the forms, indicating that I’ll pick it up myself when it’s all done: I like to be able to make a photocopy not just of my passport (already done) but of all the visa as well; and a quick check if everything’s OK is a good idea, too. (I’ve had incorrect dates entered on a visa — a result of bad form design which confused the public servant doing the visa: half in the group had incorrect data on their visa!)
Jabs - do I need any?
I searched the internet for what vaccinations are currently needed for all those countries we’re going to travel through (Syria, Turkey, Iran, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and China). It appears that DTP is needed for all, and mine has expired. Typhus is listed for all the countries, too, if your stay is longer than two weeks. Well, apart from Iran and China it isn’t; but adding it all up is of course considerably longer than two weeks. Malaria should be considered as well for some areas of Turkey and Iran; and hepatitis everywhere (but I already have antibodies for that).
Then I needed to find a phone number for the AMC vaccination clinic (the most convenient one for me: in Amsterdam, and easy to get to with tram and metro); finding their phone number was (still) not easy. When I finally had a number it was late; I tried it anyway to check if it was the right one.
(For those searching for the phone number: last time I looked it was 020-566.38.00 to make an appointment, or 0900-95.84 for information.)
Saturday 2004-06-12 - Bājgirān, Iran
Border formalities
We leave Mashhad at six - without breakfast - since we want to be early at the border so we won’t have to wait all day. When we are a little outside the city, our guide, Hassan, manages to produce tea, fresh bread and cheese on the bus, so our stomachs aren’t rumbling. At 10 we’re at the border at Bājgirān and the long wait starts. Leaving Iran is no problem, entering Turkmenistan a bit of a hassle. The passport check just after the Iranian exit gate is easy enough but then we need to wait for our bus to pick us up and take us to the actual Turkmen border post. Finally our guide, Bava, appears — without the bus: it was not allowed to go through till the gate. In two shifts we go in a minibus taxi to the customs check. The driver goes at a crazy speed along the winding mountain road, laughing at our worried looks, refusing to slow down.
We’ve heard stories about Turkmen border officials, so we insist we won’t enter the customs building until we’re all together; then we go one by one, with our guide and our tour companion watching, keeping in mind the stories about border officials grabbing what they could. Apart from a lot of hassle with all the forms, stamps and counter stamps, it all goes surprisingly easy though: the officers (half of them women) are friendly and actually check only a few bags. My load of films (more than 100 in lead-lined bags) causes mainly amazement: “Are these all yours?” - “Yes” - “How many used?” - “About half” - “OK.” The serial number of my camera is noted on the declaration form. A cursory glance and poke at the inside of my big bag, and that’s all. Still, since we do it all one by one, bag by single bag, it takes a long time.
Saturday 2004-06-12 - Aşgabat, Turkmenistan
Running through the museum
When we arrive at the hotel in Aşgabat I immediately see it’s the same (nice) Kopetdag hotel where we were two years ago — nearly at the end of the row of hotels on the ‘hotel street’ (all new hotels built along the same street!). That means we’ll have a good breakfast tomorrow! Shortly before four we’re all checked in, and I run off to the National Museum at the end of the street which I missed last time but closes at five — one hour will get me at least an impression this time.
Downstairs are various exhibits about the country’s history, independence from the Soviet Union and economics, as well as as small geological and natural history departments. At the latter I recognize my favorite Yellow Souslik (a kind of ground squirrel) of which I saw so many in the desert here last time. But the most curious exhibit on this floor must be the collection of editions of the “Holy Ruhnama” written by president Nyazov: one copy of every language it has been translated into. I don’t see a Dutch one…
Upstairs are the ethnological and archaeological departments. The archaeological department is interesting particularly because it matches up nicely with the archaeological exhibits in the Historical Museum in Tehrān, illustrating how several cultures lived all over this area. I was also pleased to see the objects found at excavations at the Old Nisa site, a city from Parthian times to the south of Aşgabat now being restored, where we paid a visit last time I was in Turkmenistan (2002). After having seen the walls there, it’s quite interesting to see here what was inside: an obviously very refined culture. Later I hear from Bava that the best of what was found at the site is now at the museum in Moscow and not likely to be given back. What they do have is still beautiful, such as the 18 intricately carved “rytons” (drinking horns), with finely sculpted mythical beasts such as gryphons at the end; also interesting are the furniture parts (probably legs of chairs or tables) made from horn: they look like they have been turned on a lathe. There’s also a lot of nice pottery and jewelry, as well as good plans and models of how the various sites must have looked originally.
The ethnological department has (apart from carpets, which I’m planning to admire at the Carpet Museum tomorrow) superb samples of weaponry and traditional costumes and jewelry from all five provinces of the country. Just the costumes would be worth an hour’s visit!
The evening is spent with a nice dinner of kebabs, salad and the excellent local Berk beer at the nice open-air Aysberg (“Iceberg”) restaurant which I’m amazed I’d completely forgotten but am pleased to find back.
Sunday 2004-06-13 - Aşgabat, Turkmenistan
One of the weirdest cities in the world.
In 1948 practically the whole city of Aşgabat was flattened by a huge earthquake (9 on the Richter scale); 160,000 died. The last two buildings left standing were taken down as well — only the Lenin monument was spared and restored at the request of the people: not because they liked Lenin but because they (rightly) liked the monument.
The city was rebuilt completely on a grand new plan, with wide avenues, monumental buildings and mostly ugly monuments (with one exception). Building still continues: 127 new apartment buildings will be built, even though most people in the city cannot afford the steep prices for the (completely furnished) apartments. Not that people from outside will take up the slack: the city is “closed” and people from other areas are not allowed to move in, even though only about 600,000 live here. The townscape is a strange combination of Soviet and Turkmen and some imported styles (architects are hired mostly from Turkey and France), as well as a lot of pleasant and carefully tended greenery; but most trees are still young: they’ll need to grow a few more decades to provide the planned shade. While some inhabitants say their city is the most beautiful one in Central Asia, they don’t use the parks like people do in Iran, where people use the parks to relax after hours — to relax, people here tend to go outside the city into the mountains to the South where it’s cooler in summer.
The Independence Monument (independence from the Soviet Union is a big issue in all Central Asian former Soviet states) is incredibly ugly: a huge tower (over 100m high) with a lot of ornaments made with real gold, worth a stunning amount of money that could have been spent so much better on really useful things like roads…
Noticeable is that the ubiquitous portraits of president-for-life Turkmenbashi which adorned nearly every building just two years ago have now mostly disappeared. No one really knows why but rumor goes pressure from the United Nations played a role.
Flying camels
Our Aşgabat city tour today starts with a visit to the Sunday market, better known as the Talkoetsjka bazaar, on the outskirts of the city. Here we see a curious phenomenon — flying camels: Camels that have found a new owner are hoisted onto the owner’s truck with a crane parked here specially for the purpose — under loud protest from the scared camels, of course, but causing no obvious harm.
Delivering photographs - with a laugh and a tear
After the animal market outside the walls we head for the market enclosure of the Talkoetsjka bazaar. Aşgabat’s famous tapestry market occupies a big section of it and around here I have some portraits to deliver: photographs I took last time I was here, two years ago. Although I fear I may not find people back, it goes surprisingly well, though not always cheerfully.
The picture of the cheerful young boy soon finds his father, who we see half an hour later still sitting in the same spot, still holding the photograph. Later, I go to the outside of the enclosure where there are some small shops built into the wall, one of them of a friendly instrument maker I took a picture of. The location is easy to find - some half-finished instruments are lying on a low table to prove it — but I don’t see the friendly man on my picture. I show it to the woman sitting behind the table: the result is a loud cry of — surprise? and something else, but I can’t understand her. (I miss our guide Bava, he could have helped by translating but we soon lost him in the crowd.) She calls a younger man over, probably her son, who explains with gestures that the man died last year as a result of a car crash. When I give the picture to the woman she’s obviously both glad and sad at the same time, while the young man can barely control his tears.
Old grandma with her toothless smile is found with the help of a colleague of her: after I’d already given up and given the picture to the woman who obviously recognized her, asking her to deliver it. No need, she suddenly comes back and beckons us: grandma is found, her smile still exactly the same, her surprise even bigger than her smile. One younger woman translates: grandma wants to know what it costs - nothing of course! That earns me two bigs hugs and kisses. It’s a good antidote for the sadness of not finding the friendly instrument maker back. Even the last two pictures ultimately find their respective owners — amidst a score of jealous colleagues.
In the afternoon we tour a number of sites in the city itself, among them the beautiful “Blue Mosque” (built with Turkish financial help and m modeled after the Blue Mosque in Istanbul). Here I took pictures of a Turkmen couple; I’m hoping someone in the mosque or a caretaker will recognize them and be able to deliver the pictures. Not only is there indeed a caretaker who recognizes them — he even remembers our group sitting and chatting with them two years ago! He promises he’ll do his best to deliver the pictures to them: they come here regularly, he says. (I’m glad Bava is with me this time to translate!) Two people in Aşgabat have a little surprise waiting for them…
Alas, our planned visit to the Carpet Museum can’t take place: when we arrive it appears that opening times have changed a short while ago, now it’s closed on Sundays. I’m very disappointed — I had so looked forward to it!
Monday 2004-06-14 - Mary, Turkmenistan
Weird economy, too
The plan is to leave Aşgabat at ten this morning to go to Mary. But first the registration has to be taken care of: the government wants to know at all times where all foreigners come and go. Our guide, Bava, will take care of it, and is at the office at 7:30 am but it’s so busy, it’s 11 when he finally arrives back at the hotel.
On the way to Mary he tells a little more about how this country works. We’re riding over a very bad two-lane road with no markings: this road is the main connection from Aşgabat to Uzbekistan, all imports from there have to come along this road. In fact, all roads in the country are narrow and in bad repair except those within cities, while many millions are spent building apartment buildings with apartments practically no one can afford to live in at an average monthly income of $100: obviously not the way to kick-start an economy.
Meanwhile, farmers are not allowed to own any ground: all is owned by the government and the farmers have to rent it; a maximum of only 5 hectares is allowed. The government also dictates what can be grown (cotton or wheat) and buys the produce from the farmers who will get $200-300 extra for their families working in the fields. Near Mary however, ground is scarce, so the actual maximum a farmer can rent is only 3 hectares.
When we arrive in Mary, it’s only a few minutes before six, too late to be let into the museum (in spite of Bava’s brave efforts). Carla goes to the hotel to sleep, the rest of us go on to visit the historical site of Merv.
Destroyed by the Mongols
Ancient Merv, an old center on the Silk Road, was located a way from present-day Mary. It was — especially for the time — a huge city of which only ruins are left now, spread over a large area. Obviously, arriving here around seven in the evening, we will have time only for a few highlights before it gets fully dark — and we still have to have dinner as well.
There were several large citadels here, as well as forts. When the Mongols arrived here on their rampage across Asia, they didn’t know how to tackle such a large city: they’d never encountered anything like this. At first they roamed around for six days failing to find a way in. Then they laid siege but after half a year they’d gotten nowhere: the city still thrived. At last a spy overheard two women chatting to each other, saying they’d never have lasted this long with out the tunnel through which water and food was brought into the city… Now the Mongols finally had a way in. The two women were stoned to death for thus betraying the city but that was not all. The Mongols offered to spare everyone if only they would move out of the city; the people took the offer but found they had been fooled: nearly all were killed. One of the survivors, an Arab who lived here, was tasked with counting the dead. He recorded the counting took him 6 days, and he counted 1.2 million bodies.
The city was then abandoned for about two centuries, after which people slowly began to move back, but soon left again. New Mary was built at a distance from the old site but the extensive cemetery at Merv has been in almost constant use — a pity there’s no time to walk around there, I love to look around cemeteries. We have time only to visit a few forts and the mausoleums for the two women who were stoned to death; then we run up the hill of another fort on a hill to watch from there the beautiful sunset over the site. A few more places viewed in the dusk, and then we ride back to the city.
In Mary we have a late dinner in the open air; my chicken kebab tastes very good, but it’s also very cold outside by this time: it’s nearly 11 pm! Our hotel is of the “Russian” type with a key lady and no restaurant. (No choice: it’s the only hotel in town. A new three-star hotel has been built but not opened yet.) Our bathroom looks terrible with a jumble of broken tiles but it has been cleaned and the plumbing actually works. The hot water is turned off at eleven though, so my shower is only lukewarm.
Tuesday 2004-06-15 - Chardzhev, Turkmenistan
Sick over the border
We have to leave Mary early this morning to have sufficient time for the border crossing near Chardzhev. As soon as I wake up, I know I’m sick: I have diarrhea and a little later I have to throw up, too. No fever, so I’m not really worried but I do feel very weak. Bad planning for a border crossing day… When I enter the restaurant next to the hotel where we’ll have our breakfast, just the smell of the food makes me sick again, I have barely time to make it outside to throw up again, let alone to ask for the bathroom. I try a bit of tea, but even that upsets my stomach.
I’m put in the front of the bus and soon doze away; the landscape is boring anyway. At Chardzhev where we need to cross a pontoon bridge before the border crossing a little further on I wake up again because we seem to be going in circles. We are. The driver can’t find the entry to the bridge because all the original routes have been closed off. Finally, with the help of some locals, he finds the way. At the bridge, Bava starts negotiating: normally the bridge can be crossed only by locals and trucks — travelers have to take a taxi across to the border. Some baksheesh takes care of it though: more expensive than taxis but also more comfortable. As a ‘bonus’, we can take a picture of the railway bridge next to the pontoon bridge — illegal but safe from our bus with a trusted driver. It was bombed several times by the Germans during the last World War but they could not take it out of action.
Crossing the border is near torture: it’s extremely hot at midday, everyone is tired, customs at the Turkmen side takes a very long time with all luggage opened (though for a cursory look only) — and then, after saying goodbye to our guide Bava whom I promise to email, we have to walk a long way across no-man’s land in the burning sun to the Uzbek side. It doesn’t help that I’m very light in my head but I’m not the only one suffering. I bless my luggage on wheels though: without the wheels I wouldn’t have made it! At the Uzbek end things are a little easier — the same type of customs declarations as we had for Turkmenistan is required, but at least they have an X-ray machine for the luggage. Two mini busses stand ready to take us to our first Uzbek city. In the front of the bus again I fall asleep immediately. It’s still 97 km to Bukhara.
Saturday 2004-06-19 - Tashkent, Uzbekistan
More catching up
I’m puzzled that the road to Tashkent looks unfamiliar — it takes a while before I realize I’ve never been here: both times before in Uzbekistan I’ve flown to and from Tashkent. Along the first stretch the landscape is pleasant to the eyes: rolling hills and low mountains with a wide plain in-between covered with fields where mainly grain is grown. Lots of small farms, with low walls up and down the hills all around their property. Later, we see a lot of beehives along the road where farmers are selling honey. When we get somewhat higher, we can see the Shardara reservoir in the distance before us but the road doesn’t pass along the lake; far to the right we see the snow-capped mountains of what must be Tajikistan, but apart from that the landscape isn’t as beautiful any more.
In Tashkent we’re staying at the Orzu hotel, a familiar place to me. After a nice dinner outside (I have a delicious “Lens soup” and a Kazakh beer) I walk 50 m, back down the road where there is what they call here an “Internet Club”, one of very many in this city. Their connection here is very fast (supposedly they have an ADSL contract with a Chinese provider). When I arrive at 8:15, it’s still very quiet but by 9 the place is packed with all machines in use, sometimes two to a machine. While game-playing costs 400 so’m per hour, Internet access is 800; after I explain I’ll be online only part of the time, the price becomes 600 per hour! After two hours of fast typing to update the travel blog I need to pay only 900 so’m though — and all of Turkmenistan is up-to-date now.
Back in the hotel I treat myself to a nice beer paid with my last so’ms: all that typing made me quite thirsty!
Sunday 2004-07-04 - Dunhuang, China
End of the known world
The section of this trip covering Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and Xinjiang in China was “the known world” for me: I’d traveled in all these countries before and visited most of the places we visited now (with the exception of Mary in Turkmenistan and Kuqa in Xinjiang). Not that that was a problem though: it was great to be back in Central Asia and it provided some ‘mental rest’ during a trip otherwise rich in new impressions.
Today I’m definitely in a new country: neither in Liuyian nor all along the road through the flat desert to Dunhuang is there a single word to read in the Arabic script of Uyghur as was the norm in Xinjiang where practically everything is bilingual. We’ve left the Turkic languages and peoples behind now: I’m in the ‘real’ China at last.
Looking out of the window of the bus that takes us from the station in Liuyian to Dunhuang, the landscape isn’t very interesting at first: just very flat and almost completely bare desert and a very straight road. After about an hour of this, we see a slight dip in the desert ahead of us and when we get close it suddenly gets a lot greener, obviously because the water table is closer to the surface. First, tamarisk appears, always a sign of the presence of a little water; later, we see irrigation channels and fields; even tree-lined roads. Checking my map: this must be the area of the Shule He (He means river, but I don’t know what Shule means). When we leave the oasis behind, the ground stays a little greener than before, until we reach the outskirts of Dunhuang and we see fields and trees again.
Dunhuang, my first contact with a real Chinese town, has a friendly provincial atmosphere, immediately apparent when arrive after the two-hour bus ride. This town (population: 100,000) at the edge of the feared Lop desert was originally at the extreme western border of the Chinese empire — its name means “Blazing Beacon” — and the Great Wall was extended to here.
Our hotel, Fei Tian, is unremarkable but we have a comfortable little room — and John’s Cafe is right next to the hotel’s forecourt, along the street.
Tuesday 2005-01-25 - Amsterdam, the Netherlands
Back in Turkmenistan… almost
We have our third reunion today — of a sort: Marie Josee, our travel companion, managed to get (through Koning Aap) enough invitations for a special Turkmen cultural evening in Amsterdam that we can all come. There was some hassle over the invitations which didn’t all arrive, but we all confirmed through email anyway and here we all are, properly dressed up.
The reason for the happening (in the West-Indisch huis in Amsterdam, a beautiful venue for an evening like this) is the presentation of the Dutch translation of the book “Ruhnama”, written by the President of Turkmenistan, Saparmurat Niyazov, also known as “the Great Saparmyrat Türkmenbashi”. The book — officially referred to as the “Holy Ruhnama” (Book of the Soul) — was written by Mr. Niyazov during 1997-2001; in Turkmenistan everyone reads this book in school, and although some of its contents may be historically doubtful, it has definitely played a role in inspiring a sense of national pride and strengthening Turkmen culture after independence from the Soviet Union in 1991. The museum in Aşgabat has the book and a number of translations on display; no doubt the Dutch one will be added to the display now.
None of us really had any idea what to expect of this evening. We’re welcomed with drinks, and everyone sort of stands around for a while… until finally someone takes a microphone and welcomes us and especially the delegation of the Turkmen ministry of Culture, including the Minister of Culture, TV and Radio Broadcasting of Turkmenistan, Mrs. Maral Basimovna Basimova. (There had been rumors the President himself would be here, but I guess a minister is good enough.) We all troop upstairs, where after the national anthem is sung we’re shown a video about Turkmenistan. Next is a musician from Turkmenistan who sings and plays traditional music on a flute (targe tuduk), and sings some traditional songs — very beautifully.
Then it’s a (Dutch) magician’s turn; he asks for “help” from the audience, and both Vera and I are among his willing “victims”. (I’m looking him closely on his fingers, and I cannot see what he does to the EUR 50 banknote I lent him, but the promised extra EUR 50 doesn’t appear: instead I get a piece of toilet paper which he says I now know how to turn into a banknote (sure…), and my banknote with now an (illegal) mark on it. One of the Turkmen musicians also “helps” him, and finally, in a spray of fireworks, the book is conjured up.
Next on is the Minister, who tells us about the development of Turkmenistan since its independence, and proudly declares that the “holy Ruhnama” has now been translated into 26 “world languages”; this is followed by a short interview with madame Minister. Wouter van Wijk from Koning Aap Reizen comes up next to present a slide show about traveling in Turkmenistan. This elicits a curious response from the Minister: one of the slides shows a traditional way of baking bread in the desert (I witnessed a demonstration of that myself in 2002, although it was made clear this was no longer daily practice); she gets up and assures us that such primitive things don’t happen any more, the country is more developed now — factually true, maybe, but it demonstrates a complete misunderstanding of what travellers to the country may be interested in (as the video demonstrated as well). It’s a common culture clash: tourists come for history, while inhabitants of a country are proud of their modern development… After this short intermezzo, the official part of the evening is over, and we all move over to yet another large room.
Here we are treated to more drinks, and an international buffet: Italian, Indonesian and… where are the Turkmen dishes? I find them tucked away in a side room off the main hall. And there is music: The little orchestra, part of the delegation from Turkmenistan, is excellent; they play a wide variety of music, from classical (arias), through traditional Turkmen music, to jazz, with singing by two young ladies and an older man; more traditional instruments appear, such as a dutar (a type of lute used in several varieties across Central Asia) and a dili tuduk which is like a piccolo version of the flute we heard before. Among the guests is a young Turkmen who studies at a Dutch conservatory; long after the evening is officially over, he is invited onto the stage by the older (and apparently quite famous) Turkmen singer, and together they sing an aria, in a kind of dialog, taking turns, both just singing for the joy of it, ignoring the audience, and with the older singer very obviously enjoying the young talent next to him. It forms a touching finish to a somewhat weird but interesting Turkmen evening — we felt a bit as if we were travelling in Turkmenistan again.
On the way out, we all get a copy of the “holy Ruhnama”; an attempt to have my copied signed by madame Minister fails (it’s a holy book by our great president, she explains, she really can’t sign that), but the young Turkmen singer is happy to oblige — not that I can read his cyrillic handwriting apart from the date.
