We are nearing our end in Asia. From Indonesia to Russia we went spanned the continent South to North. From China to Turkey we will have made the passage from East to West. In covering this vast continent, we have encountered bandits, sand storms, snow storms, bears, foxes, cobras, camels, and countless geographical challenges. We have passed through the lands of the Soviets, Chinggis Chan, the Ming Dynasties, Mao, Ho Chi Minh, the Sultans and more. We have seen some of the richest people and the poorest people. Our trucks have been our transportation, our home, our bed, our kitchen, our theater, our security. Temperatures have ranged from negative twenty to well over 100.
But over the last 7 months it has taken us to navigate this continent, none of the previous experiences would have prepared us for the last week we have spent leaving Central Asia…
On November 1st, while in Bishkek, Kygyzstan, we recieved word that the Uzbek government had accepted our requests for visas. This gave us the prized letter of invitation to get us our visas for Uzbekistan. We then called to make an appointment at the Uzbek consul to apply for the visas and they gave us an appointment for November 3rd. Local info told us that we should have the paperwork ready before we went in for the appointment so the next day (Nov 2nd), we stopped by to get the forms. At this point the angry lady behind the counter in Russian pointed to the sign that said we needed to have a translator. We raced over to a hotel that we knew had an employee that spoke good english and pleeded with him to come help us. He agreed and that afternoon we received our Uzbek visas, only after paying an additional $50 "rush fee" in cash to the slimy guy behind the counter since we came a day early for our appointment.
Over the next two days sleeping in the trucks and one night a NGO workers flat in Osh, Kygyzstan, we made our way to the Uzbek border. The trucks we only allowed through the border one at a time. I took Little Pepe through first without problem. Bouey took the Thundra through next and I figured it would be the same for him and Tash. Karie and I sat on the Uzbek side of the border and waited, and waited. I could see Steve in the distance and it was clear that something was wrong. Did they find the CB radio? What could be the problem. I later was informed that it was the fireworks that we had purchased in China as a souveneir. These "explosives" as the guards told Bouey could have got him in big trouble if he was not a tourist. He was informed,. "It is illegal to leave those here and it is illegal to take them into Uzbekistan." The guards made hime walk the "explosives" accross the border and back into Kygryzstan where he left them on the side of the road. This is the beginning of Central Asian paperwork and border madness.
From here we had wonderful time in Uzbekistan enjoying the wonderful hospitality and smiling faces of the friendly Uzbek people. Other than the police checkpoints every 50-100km on the road and a week of visa work in Tashkent, things went quite smoothly. Even at the checkpoints the guards seemed more curious than corrupt. Tashkent to Samarqand, Samarqand to Bukhara, Bukhara to Khiva, the pace was fast but still fun. We knew however that this 6 days of fun would quickly come to an end as we approached the Aral Sea and our crossing of the Caspian.
After Khiva we made our way to Moynaq, the formerly prosperous fishing community on the Aral Sea is now a wasteland in the middle of a highly polluted dustbed full of rusting boats, trash and a feel remenicent of Mad Max movies. The Aral Sea was drained by canals built when the Soviet Union was in power and is one of the worst ecological disasters in the history of the world. This is quite apparent as you leave with a feeling of terror imagining what it must have been like for the people in this community to watch their livelyhood dissappear as shore of the Aral Sea now lies over 150km away from the village. The use of DDT and other chemicals has caused hundereds of health problems in the inhabitants of the area and these chemicals continue to spread around the area in dust storms caused by the dried out Aral Sea. This does not exactly lift your spirits on your way into the no-man’s land that spans over 600km from Nukus, Uzbekistan to Aktau, Kazakhstan.
The next three days we drove 500km on offically the worst roads we have encountered. The Uzbek/Kazak border required an overnight stay in the middle of below freezing temperatures hundreds of kilometers from anything in any direction. Three times in the course of the week the trucks nearly ran out of gas. We only ate ramen noodles, salami and a few other odds and ends for over 5 days (the only food available). Upon our arrival to Aktau, Kazakhstan we were pulled over and harrased by the police within an hour and ended up sleeping again in the trucks near the trash dump outside of town, but at least it was on hill overlooking the Caspian. The next morning we were harrased by the police again.
To our delight we found out the next morning that ferry to Baku, Azerbaijan would be leaving that night. We were extatic. Our time in the beurocratic hell of Central Asia had finally come to an end, or so we thought. The next stop was the ticketing office for the ferry. Two hours later we had our personal tickets for the journey, but at the office they could not sell tickets for the trucks. I was told by the sister of the office clerk (she translated for us via phone) that I should go to the port immediately to deal with the trucks. The boat did not leave for 10 hours, so this warning to go to the port right away did not seem to be good news.
At the port we visted the ticketing office. After purchasing the tickets we had to get 5 different stamps from 5 different departments before we would be able to ship the trucks. Each department was in a different place in the port. Customs down, on to immigration, immigration down on to some other department we do not understand the name of, from deptartment no name we went back to customs who informed us we needed a final stamp from "Pajera". They pointed again to the opposite side of the ship yard. "Pajera, Pajera," we repeated to every person we could find. They kept pointing toward a building we were conviced was the janaitors office as it smelled like a mix of paint thinner and cleaning chemicals. The man inside had waived us away numerous times before.
Finally we went into his shack and said pajera one more time. It was the pajera, or safety officer as we later found out. In a room with signs all over the wall about fire safety and hard hats, our brief stay in the room got both of us so high on chemical fumes that we were about ready to pass out after he stamped. These signs don’t seem to make much sense when the fire safety officer’s building is actually a mix of explosive chemicals located about 10ft from a gigantic oil pipeline to fill the tankers in the caspian. We did not care at that point now, we could not see straight and were finally done dealing with the paperwork.
Fifteen hours waiting in the customs/immigration room later and we were finally on the ferry, 6 hours later it finally left the port, 22 hours later we arrived in the Baku marina, 6 hours later we actaully docked at the port, 3 hours later we finished the rest of the paperwork and finally were out of customs and into Baku. You can do the math. I do not know the exact amount of time it has taken us to get out of Central Asia. Bruised and battered, tired and sore, our time in Central Asia has come to an end at the cost of somewhere around 4 days worth of paperwork and stamps, 6 days of off roading and sleeping the cars, and a chunk of my sanity.
Within an hour of our entrance to the streets of Baku we made our way to MacDonalds, the first one since months ago in China. It was one of the best meals I have ever eaten…in a world with no consistancy or for that matter even food regularly available, the friendly sight of the golden arches is a weird kind of solace after the experience we just had.
I apologize for grammar/spelling errors in this post, but there was no time to proof read this puppy…I must leave the internet cafe and carry on for the last week in Asia. Europe, here we come.
