<<    This continues the journal from China and is continued in Europe..    >>
Baku	8 October 06
Well we've made it! The ferry trip was what we thought would be the biggest unknown in getting to France, due to its irregularity, and our limited visas. In fact we were able to buy tickets for the ferry after only one day; it was supposed to leave that night at 9pm, but in the end we had to wait in the customs waiting room until midday the next day... In any case the boat eventually left - a smooth crossing (these ferry have a habit of sinking apparently..) and 24 hours later we're in Baku. Baku so far seems very nice, and since we've crossed the Caspian, which is fed by the Ural river, we're going to continue on the Europe page!
Aktau	6 October 06
Stuck in expensive Aktau; our hotel has a lovely view over the first sea we've seen since the China Sea in Xiamen, but costs 90% of our daily budget, and is the cheapest in town. We're waiting for the ferry/freighter to Baku in Azerbaijan, which works on as 'as needed' basis.
The Aral Sea	4 October 06
Everyone knows the Aral Sea is drying up. Basically what has happened is the Amu-Darya (the Oxus) which used to feed the sea has been diverted into feeding cotton crops. As we needed to pass through this area, Karakalpakstan (actually an autonomous region with its own people and language) we paid a visit to the fishing port of Moynaq, now 150km from the sea. An island in the sea, which has become linked to the mainland was also used for chemical weapons testing and this is another region where health problems add to the unemployment and depression in the region.     However the Art Museum in Nukus is an incredible place, housing the greatest collection in the world of Soviet 'Lost Art' ie. Art by artists who refused to conform to the 'Soviet Realism' ordered by Stalin in the 20s. Igor Savitsky took advantage of the remote location of his museum in the middle of the Kyzyl-sum desert to build up his huge collection of forbidden work. We were lucky enough to have a guided tour by the museum's director.
Khiva	1 October 06
Khiva is a city museum. There are 4000 inhabitants who mostly work in the tourist industry, and who are probably outnumbered by the floods of tourists. But there's a reason that they come, and its the fact that walking around this little fortified city, the capital of the Khorezm Khanate, is a pretty unique experience. Of course everything is clean and Khiva was apparently characterised by its filth - but nevertheless it was less than 100 years ago that the very same minarets, palaces and harems were filled to bursting with intrigue, lacivious luxury, trade, torture and slavery. Grand Viziers ordered the throwing of herertics from minarets and adultresses put in sacks with wild cats.             Today you can wander though the ghost city, popping into the the museums, mausoleums and caravanserais. It does take some imagination to conjure up 1001 Nights, but when we spent half an hour sitting in the window of the minaret looking at the sun set against the domes and the city walls....
Bukhara	29 September 06
If I thought that Samarkand's 'tourist attractions' were too far removed from their surroundings and everyday life, then Bukhara, our next Silk Road stop is the very pleasant opposite. The whole town seems to be made of mud brick, and children play in the narrow steets outside relatively new houses that look like they belong to the same era as the multitudes of medressas, mosques and mausoleums. It really feels genuine..., though far too clean I guess. Uzbekistan is a funny country really. Uzbeks themselves really only originate and live in the southeastern corner of the country. The western parts, since Tamerlane, were divided into Khanates which endured even after Russian conquest. They were absorbed into Uzbekistan only under Stalin to better keep them in line. The Khans themselves were notoriously cruel and executions and torture were pretty common. The jail behind the Khan's palace houses the famous 'bug pit' where two British army officers were kept for 9 months before being executed in the 1890s.
Samarkand	25 September 06
There's a very nice poem about Samarkand, and for me at least, this place is the embodiment of the attraction of Central Asia which brought us here in the first place. It is actually only one of a chain of cities across Uzbekistan which used to service the Silk Road, but it was here that the all-conquering Tamerlane chose to make his capital. Tamerlane was a bit of a barbarian really - and though less successful than his Mongol predecessor he still conquered huge areas of Asia from India to China, Iran and Russia. His dynasty was short but under it, and particularly under his grandson Ulug Begh, a flowering of the arts and sciences took place. Maths students learn about Omar Khaiyyan and Al Jabbr (algebra..) at university, and Ulug Begh himself was an astronomer whose star charts were the most reliable available until the 18th century. Despite the fact that Ulug was later killed by his son in conspiracy with the clergy for being too progressive (in suggesting that the world roates on its own axis), Samarkand was really the centre of the civilised world. What remains of this heritage has been restored by the Soviets and the huge medressas and mosque in the Registan square form heart of the city.         Tamerlane himself is buried near here along with the cousin of the Prophet Mohammed and we visited the mausoleum. If you slip the guards some money you can even climb the minarets.... I really enjoyed our time here but it's hard to get a real sense of the history when walking through the town. Of course the structures are amazing and massive even in comparison to their modern surroundings but the town surrounding them is a model of a clean Soviet town tarted up for tourists.
Task-bloody-kent	22 September 06
We're IN! The Letter of Invitation ( here ) arrived in advance on Tuesday morning while we were trying to decypher our guided tour (a mixture of Russian, German and pantomime) of the Semipalatinsk Dostoyevsky museum. It was a 24 hour train ride back to Almaty, a extortionate taxi ride to the embassy (our discussions with the station taxi cartel almost ended in violence), a nervous 4 hour wait at the embassy (the consul started his lunch at the opening time and didn't return until 5 minutes before closing - though he did at least work a few minutes overtime, full credit to him), a few more battles with railway workers (denying the existence of trains showing on the eletronic board), another 12 hour train ride, three hours in a marshrutka, another battle with Uzbek officals (the customs declaration forms are only in Russian...) and... ...Tashkent is Central Asia's largest city - in fact in the USSR only Moscow, St Petersburg and Kiev are larger. It's a really lovely place, leafy, friendly and with a lot of historical character. Last night we saw a Russian opera, tonight we're going to the ballet at the national opera house - top quality stuff for around $1 each. Tomorrow we're back on the Silk Road (we should collect our new Kazakh visa tonight, fingers crossed) heading to Samarkand and Bhukara. It's a pretty busy schedule from now on, so apologies in advance if our next update is a little late.
Semipalatinsk	19 September 06
We've had two run-ins with the police in the fortnight we've spent in Kazakhstan. Despite the Lonely Planet's dire warnings on police corruption in Central Asia and the techniques necessary to stop them taking your passport and demanding $100 to get it back, what we've instead seen has been very professional, helpful and friendly. In fact I have to admit that our first encounter in the railway station at Astana was really my fault. All the stations here have dorms or simple hotels attached and we went searching the station looking for likely candidates. This was how I managed to walk straight into the police station and end up opening various doors trying to find the receptionist. The police who emerged asked to see our passports, naturally enough I guess, but at this stage I still hadn't quite figured out where we were, and thought 'uh-oh, here's a corrupt cop wanting a bribe'. So I employed the advice of the Lonely Planet and refused. I gave him an old photocopy, but the Kazakh law does say that you have to have the original on you at all times - and in any case we would have needed it to take the train... No one really understood much of what the other was saying, and in the end the boss was called from the central station, who spoke English, was very nice, but told us not to leave the room until he arrived in two hours... At this point we pulled out our real passports, and everything was fine. In fact the original officer who stopped us helped us to find the dorms, which were full, and then led us around a tour of all the hotels near the station, practising his English with us and helping us to negotiate the best price. Not a second thought was given to the fact that we'd lied about our passports and wandered into the station uninvited.. Our second encounter was a little more serious, though this time definitely not our fault! We took our longest ever train ride from Petropavlovsk to Semipalatinsk yesterday - 36 hours. In fact we got on a train which had already been running for 48 hours from Moscow, but the Soviet trains are great. They're clean, smooth, and the sleeper compartments are divided in compartments of four beds, with a lockable door. We ended up with the two upper bunks, but spent the days outside the compartment by the window. Our destination, Semipalatinsk or Semei (in Kazakh) is rather notorious as the centre of the former USSR's nuclear testing programme. More than 450 nuclear bombs were exploded here between '47 and 2000, and the area has huge problems with the health of its population. According to an IAEA study (which we read only once we arrived...) the level of radiation in the town in now within international standards, but there are still areas in the desert where you need radiation suits. It's also now Kazakhstan's oldest and most historical city: Dostoevski lived here while he was writing "The Brothers Karamazov", there are plenty of museums and many students from all over Asia (I'm sitting next to an Indian medical student as I write).    Anyway, back to the train trip, all that radiation has apparently led to quite a bit of mental illness, and at 2am, as we were passing through 'The Polygon' - the main bomb test site - we discovered we were sharing our cosy compartment with a nutter. I woke up to some heated discussion from the lower bunks, and the shaven head man below me was waving an unlit cigarette around. I got down to go to the toilet and suddenly he grabbed me and pushed me down onto the lower bunk (belonging to the nice lady he was arguing with in Russian). I sat there for a while, awaiting some sort of explanation. Nothing comprehensible forthcoming, I got up and tried again the door, which it turned our had been double locked. Obviously this upset our friend and he pulled his rather nasty looking flick-knife from his pocket, waved it in my face and then made stabbing gestures.... I sat down again, then got back up on my bunk. The lady on the bottom bunk took the opened knife and hid it under her pillow. Crazy guy saw Claire sitting up in the mirror and ordered her to go to sit at the other end of her bed. Crazy guy then turned off all the lights and smoked until the air was thick, raved for a while about radiation, cancer, Chechnia and Afghanistan and then we all sat in silence for a good couple of hours. From time to time he would go down on the floor and peer through the small vents out into the corridor. To be honest at this point we weren't even completely sure he was crazy: it was the middle of the night and we knew we were in the middle of the Polygon and that there were some seriously radioactive sites out there. I had passed the Russian/English dictionary to the lady below when I was trying to find out why I could open the door and she had looked at me strangely and showed me the English translation Sacrifice victims. Maybe all the paranoia was justified; we had visions of zombie-like, leprotic radiation victims boarding the train at the last stop (the service town for the test site) and lurching through the corridors waiting to steal our flesh.... In any case we were both pretty worried, but not completely sure whether the danger was outside or inside. If our Russian had been better we would have known that the guy was just a psycho. In any case the smoke coming from the vent outside our room caught the ire of the babushka carriage attendant. The door was eventually opened and the guy was scolded in the withering way unique to babushkas, but to no avail, and the on-board policeman was summoned. A middle-aged Kazakh guy, the cop settled things down quickly, being authoritative but without forcing any sort of conflict at all. The loony grabbed the lady's arms when she tried to leave, but in the end we all extracted ourselves and our bags from the compartment, found another and locked the door.
Petropavlovsk	15 September 06
Petropavlovsk.... you'll need a good map to find this one. We headed up to Astana, the capital in the north of the country after lodging for a 3rd (and final dammit) time our Uzbek visa applications. In Astana we collected our Azeri visas absurdly easily and found ourselves in the middle of a big empty country the size of Western Europe with 10 days to kill. We went up to the lake near the capital, and on a bit of a whim decided to keep going.    Petropavlovsk isn't really in Russia (50km from the border) but everyone here is Russian, local time is ignored and everything runs on Moscow time and more trains run to Russia than to Kazakhstan. Being so close to Siberia it's obviously a bit nippy, and we've had to pull out all the woolly jumpers and thermal underwear we've been carrying all the way from Singapore. It's great, and even threatening to snow! A friend from the train trip...
Almaty	13 September 06
REJECTED AGAIN!!!! Apparently the consul took a personal disliking to us the first time we applied, and even though all our documents were in order and approved by the Tashkent ministries, he personaly vetoed our applications. Well, probably mine actually since I was the one arguing with him last time. In any case after a brief period of criminal intentions towards the Uzbeks and rocks through their embassy windows, we settled down a bit and an hour after receiving the bad news we were in a shared taxi to Almaty in Kazakhstan. Being central asia's biggest city we were expecting a bit more sophistication and a bit more expense. But both turned out to be much more obvious than we thought. Wandering through Almaty you could be in a European city, and eating at its cafes you spend as much. But the people are still as helpful and welcoming - maybe even more so than in Kyrgyzstan as it's less touristy - and we found ourselves surrounded by taxi-sharks when we arrived in the middle of the night, all demanding huge amounts of US dollars to take us into town. Two friendly locals whose friend hadn't turned up understood our plight and drove us the 10km "out of friendship"...
Ala-Archa	1 September 06
I've said before that Bishkek is a nice city. In fact, of the places we've seen so far, this is the only one where I would consider living. However having said that, time seems to slip past here, and days and weeks evaporate in the cafes and parks. Time to remind ourselves how good instant noodles taste after a hard day's trekking! With some difficulty - the holiday season is now officially over here, so most people involved with the tourist industry take a break it seems - we procured a tent and some nice thick North Face sleeping bags. We headed up into the mountains which lurk behind Bishkek and which always surprise me when I'm in the centre of town and look up. Our first day took us the along the Ak-Sai canyon and up to the base of a glacier. To be honest, in shorts and t-shirts and with only the Lonely Planet as a guide we were, as usual, a bit unprepared; when we woke up the next morning it was snowing. Some crazy but kindly Siberian rock climbers gave us their map and so we decided to have a go at climbing the glacier. In fact we were able to skirt around its side on the moraine, and passed 4000m (my previous best, Kinabalu, is 4000m, Mt Cook is 3700m) on our way to a beautiful icy valley with the massive glacier running through its middle. It started snowing again as we descended back down to the campsite, so we skipped lunch and the snow turned to rain and eventually stopped as we made camp further down the valley. And those noodles, which I usually can't stand, tasted really good. During the next two days we meandered our way leisurely down to the base camp through lovely sunny fields surrounded by snow-capped peaks.
Bishkek	31 August 06
I've been trying to pin down why I find Kyrgyzstan so much more civilised than China, and coming back to Bishkek I've finally pinned it down. It's because they have beer-gardens. We've still got some time to kill before being able to head into Uzbekistan (the latest 'guaranteed' date for the visa is next Friday) and we're heading out to do a bit more treking in the Ala-Archa mountains tomorrow, but for the moment the weather's got cooler, everyone's on holiday and sipping a beer in a Bishkek cafe is not a bad way to chill out a bit. To be fair, Bishkek is really a Russian city - it was founded by them and they're still in the majority. We arrived in time to see the celebrations for Independence Day on the 31 August; there was dancing and a parade in the main square but most of the entertainment and stalls were traditional Russian (babushkas singing with accordians etc) rather than Kyrgyz. The government is doing its best to forge some sort of a national identity but the huge difference between the traditional Kyrgyz nomadic lifestyle in the south and the miniskirt wearing, cosmpolitan Russian influence in the north is startling huge, and bringing these diverse sections of the community together is not going to be an easy task.
Osh	28 August 06
As Kyrgyzstan's second city, we had high hopes for Osh. The city itself is ancient - more than 3000 years old - and being in the conservative south-west of the country it initially reminded us of Kashgar in China, with it also being an important Silk Road stop. It is a pleasant enough city - it's hard to believe that it is in the same country as Bishkek though - but there's not a lot to see. The city is supposed to have been founded by King Soloman and the mountain at its centre is known as Soloman's throne. A couple of days was enough for us though, and we headed back on a 12 hour taxi ride across the Kyrgyzstan's stunning central scenery to Bishkek.
Arslanbob	26 August 06
From Jalal-Abad we followed a recommendation of a fellow tourist we had met in Kazarman and headed up into the mountains to the Uzbek enclave of Arslanbob. 100% of the population of this village are Kyrgyz Uzbeks and if we never make it to Uzbekistan itself - even if we do - we could ask for a lovelier introduction to the people and the culture. As usual we stayed with a family, who fed us with fruit and vegetables from their garden, took us to the family jailoo and laid mats out under the fruit trees for us to relax in the heat of the afternoon. The town itself is totally agricultural and self-sufficient; with cool mountain air and drinkable water from the mountain streams channelled through dozens of small channels running though the town.
Kazaraman	24 August 06
The Lonely Planet says this about Kazarman: "gold always brings trouble and Kazarman has a raw, untamed feel'. There aren't many roads we haven't travelled in Kyrgyzstan now and an interesting alternative to going back to Bishkek in order to head down to the southern city of Osh involved taking the weekly bus across the empty mountainous highlands to Kazarman. The ride was interesting in itself. The bus, being only weekly, and also transporting all the mail, supplies, and all of the belongings of a few relocating families, was full to bursting. Claire even had to adopt a small Kyrgyz girl on her knee for a few hours as she simply couldn't fit anywhere else. We only broke down three times (quite a good run apparently) and 12 hours after our departure we rolled into the goldmining town with music blaring through the bus speakers and a jubilant party atmosphere infecting its passengers.     Apparently 18% of the GDP of Kyrgyzstan comes from the Kyrgyz-Canadian mine here, though it obviously bypasses the town itself, which consists of a few dusty streets and acres of concrete soviet housing blocks. The next day we hired a jeep and a driver and took a day hike up a glacier (going up was easy, coming down we ended up falling over a bit...) to see the bronze age petroglyphs on a 3500m plateau at Sailamuu-Tash. There are literally thousands of rock engravings here, covering practically every stone for a massive area. After a well-earned sleep on the kitchen floor of our homestay, we continued our route with a bone-shattering eight hour jeep ride to the town of Jalal-Abad.
Kaji-Sai	19 August 06
Continuing our voyage around the south side of Lake Issyk Kul, we stayed at in a homestay in the Russian seaside village of Kaji-sai. Russian in the fullest, most vodka-drunk sense of the word. While the matronly lady of the house adopted Claire like a daughter and filled her hands with fruit every time we left the house, it was my glass that the husband, a truck driver and bee-keeper, repeatedly filled, accompanied by incomprensible toasts in Russian. Our Russian is limited to say the least. We've learned a few words - similar to what we did for China, and how to read the alphabet . But because in Kyrgystan we never stay at hotels, always with local families (it's cheaper and much more fun) we usually end up staying with people with whom we can't communicate except on the most basic of levels. It often leads to quite bizarre situations, but in contrast to China, people are so patient that we generally manage. A few glasses of vodka, a few toasts to international friendship, and everyone quickly realises that we're all human and how unimportant words really are. It was here that Claire indulged her desire to sacrifice a small white rabbit to the local Eagle Hunter; a traditional Kyrgyz hunting technique - the eagle is trained to catch and immobilise its prey and await the arrival of the hunter who comes on horseback to collect it. We had a demonstration in the dusty town square and the poor rabbit didn't last too long.
Karkara Valley	14 August 06
The Karkara valley is apparently where Tamerlane made his summer headquarters. We headed up this pretty valley to do a horsetrek and see some traditional Kyrgyz sports. On the way, a large pile of stones indicates the way in which Tamerlane estimated his losses in his campaigns in China and Mongolia. Before going into battle each soldier took a stone and placed it in a pile. Upon return the survivors removed a stone. What was left gave an indication of the number of soldiers who had died.   There are numerous games the Kyrgyz play on horseback; kids start riding at 3 years old so it's second nature to everyone here. The most memorable is called Buzkachi: Basically it's like polo, but with the carcass of a dead goat. The goat is usually killed and has its head removed the night before and a rider will scoop it up by its legs and try to carry it to a goal, while other competitors slam their horses into his and try to wrench it from him. The game was apparently invented by Tamerlane and originally a carcass of an enemy soldier was used.... After watching the games we slept a night in the yurt camp and then headed up into the hills for another horse trek - this one much more demanding with the terrain being much hillier. We were with two French couples (they're invading Kyrgyzstan by the 747-load) and the trek finished with a race back to the camp with a prize for the first woman to make it back. Claire, shouting and kicking her horse and crossing streams at a gallop, warded off more experienced opposition to claim her prize of a small felt bag.
Karakol	9 August 06
Karakol is at the eastern end of Lake Issyk Kul. Another russian city, though this one in serious decline since the soviets left, it is the base for treking in the nearby mountains. We hired a tent, bought a compass and headed up the valley to Lake Ala-Kol.   The first day was a good walk, and the second day took us to the lake at more than 3000m. Somehow I managed to misread the minimum number of days recommended for the walk in our guidebook though and we ended up having to walk 11 hours non-stop across the 3800m pass in order to make the camp for the night.. Claire was very understanding of my mistake, eventually.
Cholpon Ata	5 August 06
The Lake Issyk Kul is the world's second largest alpine lake (after Titicaca in Bolivia). This time of the year it is swamped with Kazak and Russian holidaymakers who crowd the beaches and drink vodka all day. Still it's a nice place to relax, and really pleasant to swim in water which is a little bit cold, then warm up in the afternoon sun.
Bishkek	28 July 06
Bishkek was essentially founded by the Russians in the 19th century and this influence remains dominant today. A huge contrast to what we'd seen already of Kyrgystan, Russian is the dominant language and walking the wide boulevards it's hard to believe you're in Asia. As we were planning to be here for at least a week, after one night in a dormitory where we met lots of interesting people but got savaged by mosquitoes, we took a short term rent of an apartment in a housing estate and lived like locals for a while. Claire's cousin, family and friends paid us a visit and we wandered around the capital enjoying the good food - and total absence of western fast food - and Lenin-statue spotting.
Karakol	16 August 06
OK, here's my frustrated diatribe about the bloody Uzbek Embassy in Bishkek. (Feel free to ignore - we've just uploaded a few pictures below so check those out..). To get an Uzbek visa in Bishkek you need to put your name on a list the day before so as to be able to be let into the building by the guard. They are very quick to hang up on you if Russian seems like a second language to you. After negotiating this obstacle with the help of a nativer speaker we arrived on time the next morning to be told our names were not on the list. After some argument our nationalities at least were found and we were let in, and with the help of friendly fellow applicants we were able to understand the reason that our passports were thrown back at us. A letter of invitation from an agency in Uzbekistan was required. Go away and come back next week. After much argument the consul was summonned who did agree that for our particular nationalities a letter was NOT required, and we were to fill in the form an come back at 3pm. This done, and applications submitted we settled in Bishkek for a week to wait. Not such a hardship, with Claire's family passing through and quite a few nice restaurants to sample, but still a good chunk of time. At the appointed time 1 week later after having duly engaged a russian speaker to call up and put our names on the list, our passports were again thrown back at us and we were told to leave the building immediately, without even time for the translation to be made... Once outside the nice lady who had helped us told us that she said our applications were 'incompatible with their system'. We trundled off to the travel agency that everyone said would be able to help us. They helped us lighten our pockets of more than US$300 and said come back in 2 weeks... We wandered off to Lake Issyk Kul (which is lovely by the way) and have passed 10 days of so here now. We were ready to head back to Bishkek when we happened to be able to check the emails this morning (access is very difficult here) and discovered an email from the agent 2 days after we left saying the Uzbek Embassy has decided there are too many tourists in Uzbekistan at the moment and is refusing visas until the 5th of September, the date we were planning to be heading to Kazakstan... We haven't got much choice really, and tempting as it is to say 'we don't want to go to your stupid country anyway', it's such an important step along the route and one of the highlights we were looking forward to for the trip, we really have to do everything we can to get in - but it really messes up our schedule.
Naryn	26 July 06
A Jailoo is a summer pasture, where the Kyrgz nomads bring their yurts and their herds between May and October. We've just spent a week on horseback crossing jailoos; we hired horses from a local family at the base of the Song-Kul plateau and climbed 3000m to the lake. We stayed with the families, ate and drank with them during the evenings and walked, trotted and galloped (sometimes..) across the vast plains during the day. While the snowcapped mountains surrounding the deep blue lake are a little reminiscent of the south island of New Zealand, the endless grasslands were what got me. I'm not going to try to descibe it, but will let a few pictures try to convey some of the atmosphere.             We're now back in Naryn nursing a few saddle-sores (surprisingly few though given we were riding 7-8 hours a day), and will head up to the capital, Bishkek, tomorrow.
Tash Rabat	19 July 06
Waking up in a yurt, a breakfast of Kumys (fermented mare's milk) and riding a horse around the ruins of an ancient silk road caravanserei... I think my 27th birthday will be a memorable one. Thanks to all who sent birthday wishes.    Oh and Joy, it's not always easy to find places to celebrate in the traditional drunken way, but we did manage to make it to the small town of Naryn in the evening (despite a few breakdowns on the road) and partake of a few $0.15 vodkas.