Day 305: Rough riding in Afghanistan (2 September)

Chaghcharan

Afghanistan from the air

The airport was about 1 km from town, an easy walk, if dusty, across the river by way of a bridge.  I was passed by all sorts of traffic – it seemed that my flight had also carried a local bigwig and that half the town had turned out to welcome him back.  Nobody stopped to pick up the foreigner.

The main street ran up from the bridge and all the action was on my left as I walked slowly up the grassless median strip. At the top of the street was a branch of the Azizi Bank – closed – and the Minari Jaam Hotel, also closed for Ramazan. I should've tried to find a cheap chaikhana (teahouse – most offer floorspace for the night if you eat there) but instead I paid the Pamir Hotel an absurd 900 Afghanis for sole occupancy of a room. They claimed to have a shower and hot water. Well, they had a shower-head, but it didn't work – I had to use a dipper and a bucket, and the water was cold. The toilets were all squats. The rooms were all windows and not secure, even after padlocking the door.  Any of the windows could easily be forced, and the outside windows could not be locked.

Day 304: Here at Herat (30 August)

Mazar to Herat

Pamir Airways was flying daily at 15:30 with a 50 minute flight duration, for a mere 3500 Afghanis – about 90 dollars.  I checked out of the Barat and walked down to the corner ofd the square, where cabs waited.  The first cab I came to demanded 500 Afganis – absurd!  I didn't even bargain, but walked on a little way down the street and tried again.  This one wanted 400 Afghanis. I counter-offered 150.  He dropped to 250 and I went to 200, and there we stuck.  I walked on and repeated the haggling. This one came down to 200 Afghanis, which I considered reasonable.  He also had a few words of English, which helped at the airport.

Day 301: Amazed in Mazar (27 August)

An intermizable journey

The rickety train from Samarkand to Termiz left on time but arrived half an hour late because we had to wait for a passenger train on the single-line track coming out of Termiz. I didn't care – my mind was already in Afghanistan.

I had planned to stop in Termiz overnight but once there I found that I had the bit between my teeth so I just kept going. My guidebook used Yubileny Bazaar as its point of reference for transport, but, incredibly, never told me where that was.  After a detour  far into the suburbs I eventually tracked the Bazaar down at the clock tower in the middle of town.

The problem now was that marshrutkas (fixed-route minivans with seats) left from all the streets in the vicinity and I had no idea where to catch the one I needed – #21 according to my guidebook.  Then I saw a #21 turn the nearest corner and drive away from me.  I cunningly went around the corner to lie in wait for the next one.  It was a long while coming.

I flagged it down but the driver only trundled me back to the Bazaar – for free – and there loaded me into another-numbered marshrutka which eventually dropped me off at the military checkpoint before the border.  I was on foot from here.

Day 281: still - Fabled Samarqand

With my Aral Experience ticked off, it was time to start south towards Afghanistan.  However, before I got there I had one last big place to visit - Samarkand!

The train came through Nukus on Monday and Thursday, arriving Nukus at 12:29 and departing at 12:44, arriving in Samarkand at an inconvenient 04:00.  I sat in the train station and dozed for a couple of hours until the buses started running.  Still killing time, I actually got off the bus at the Amir Timur statue and walked to the Registan from there.

Day 281: To being munchy

I have finally extracted myself from Siem Reap and after a couple of nights in the little town of Sra Em to see the Angkorian temple of Prasat Preah Vihear (an excellent day out) I've made it to the relative metropolis known as Tbeng (or Tbaeng) Meanchey.  Tomorrow I hope to see the former Angkorian capital at Koh Ker, then the next day undertake a cunning manouvre to see the huge temple complex at Preah Khan.

However, for the time being let me tell you about Nukus and the southern Aral Sea.  We'll need to travel back to the 20th of August.  Got your time machine turned on?  Let's go!

Day 277: Sigh & Reap

Still in Siem Reap, still working my way through the ruins of Angkor. I set out upon this trip with three "musts" on my itinerary - the Aral Sea, Ha Long Bay, and Angkor.  Tomorrow I hope to complete the final "must".

Meanwhile, back in Uzbekistan, it's the 18th of August and I am embarking upon a ride across the desert from Bukhara to Khiva, riding a shared taxi that cost me nearly twice as much as it should have.

Myth dusting

I had what I consider an interesting insight the other day on the way that memory edits itself.

In 2007 during my last long trip, I bought a small silver pendant representing the famous Phaestos Disc.  Like those silver or gold hearts that can be broken in half to share with someone, this could be broken in half.   So much is fact.

Over time I built a romantic little anecdote around this pendant.  It started out simply factual, but each time I repeated the story I "improved" upon it.  Not unusual - I'm a storyteller and it's in my nature to attempt to make the most of a good yarn, filing off the rough edges in order to make it rounder, neater and hopefully more interesting.  Usually I keep track of fact and fiction and don't confuse them, but in the case of the pendant, I actually believed the new version.

Day 274: Angkor WHAT?

OK, so it's been four months since my last post - when I was in Kyrgyzstan.  I'm now visiting the temples of Angkor in Cambodia, getting here via Uzbekistan, Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan (again), China, and Vietnam.  However, true to the tradition of this blog I'll take a ride in the time machine and continue from where I left off ...

Bopping in Bokhara

Escaping Tashkent, I took the night train to Bokhara.  I was in 3rd Class ("Platskartny").  It was hot and crowded, but in the morning I hopped out in Bokhara and took a marshrutka to the centre.  The Old Town turned out to be easy to navigate once I learned the main streets, as the alleys sooner or later run into a street.  I did turn up an alley too soon while looking for my hotel, wandering a bit at random before realising I was lost.  Just when I decided to head back down to the main street  I looked up and realised that I was standing outside the guesthouse I was seeking.  Within minutes I was sitting in the courtyard of Nasruddin Navrus, packing away a breakfast while waiting for my room to be cleaned.  The room was large and air conditioned and cost $20 per day - not a bad price in Uzbekistan, where Government policies keep tourist accommodation prices high.

Day 107: Border disorder

To save a little effort parts of this this are based on posts I made to the Lonely Planet's Thorn Tree site.

At the West Bus Station in Bishkek the marshrutka driver intially asked for KGS 1000 to Tash-Komur, but dropped it to KGS 900 when I counter-offered. I could probably have forced him down to KGS 800 with a little more effort. However, even though Tash-Komur is only 2/3 the distance to Osh, he only had five passengers in his (8-seater van) so I figured if I negotiated too hard he might hang around waiting for another passenger or two to turn up.

Day 106: Breather in Bishkek

After relaxing in Almaty for a week and a half I felt I was ready for a rest, so I headed to Bishkek, capital of neighbouring Kyrgyzstan, which proved well able to provide the goods on further relaxation.  I brought with me a new camera - not as good as the lost darling, but cameras cost 50% more in Central Asia than they do in Australia and I bought the best camera I could find for the money I was willing to spend.  The new device has only a 5x zoom (the lost one had 7x) and other shortcomings, but I figured it would be adequate to the task - and so, thus far, it has been.

Day 154: Sick and Shambling in Dushanbe

Long, long break.  I'm further behind the times now than I was when I completed my last post.  I shall do better.

I sulked around Turkistan for several days, then moved on the Shymkent, a larger town a little further south.  However, one thing I did do from Tashkent was visit the ruins of Otrar.

Day 90: Bones of a butchered sea

The train dropped me off in  Aralsk near midnight.  I knew town was only a kilometre away, but I felt a little nervous so I took a taxi.  The destination was easy: there was only one hotel in town and the other accommodation choices I knew of were all near it.

Friends, if you go to Aralsk, try not to stay in the hotel there.  My room cost me KZT 4000 per night - about AUD 32 at the then current exchange rate - and might have been acceptable at half that.  It had an ancient and ineffectual aircon unit (at least it moved the air - until my second night there, when the fan quit and could not be persuaded to continue) and its own bathroom with a trickle of cold water but the decor was Ancient Ruin.  The window curtain was a doona cover.

Day 89: Active in Aktau

Fleeing Baku, which had become hateful to me, I flew across the Caspian Sea and landed in Kazakhstan. I was excited. Three years ago I had planned to visit Central Asia. Alas, the difficulty of getting the first couple of visas defeated me then – I was coming from Iran and my first country would be Turkmenistan, whose visas are possibly hardest to acquire of all the 'stans; then Uzbekistan, almost as bad.

Day 88: Alrighty in Almaty

I have been remiss again.

When last I ranted, I was in Dilijan, Armenia. I'm now on the other side of the Caspian Sea in Almaty, Kazakhstan, and much has happened.

Day 40: Diligent in Dilijan

This blog is becoming very seldom.  I promise to do better.

The Caucasus has been a blast.  I have bored through it like a worm, from Batumi on the Black Sea coast to Svaneti high in the greater mountains, to Kutaisi (city of Medea of Jason and the Argonauts fame), to the cave city of Vardzia, then down into Armenia and several decadent days in Yerevan.  Last night I slept on the gentle shores of Lake Sevan, and tonight I am in the wooded hills of Dilijan.

Day 25: Time flies

Dateline: Georgia - Mestia, in the Caucasus

Fleeing the humidity of coastal Batumi, I rode a drunken marshrutka up a mountainside and found a cool haven where my plans for losing weight have been crushed beneath a deluge of food too good to refuse.  In partial compensation I spent hours today marching up down the town hoping to work off some of the kilojoules.  I even set out on an ambitious attempt to climb a nearby peak, but proved inadequate to the task.

Aoraki/Mt Cook, NZ's highest mountain, is 3,754 metres high.  There are several mountains near me now that top 4,000 metres - one is 4,700 metres.  This early in the year, ribbons of snow droop heavily down their flanks and their heads gleam like a collection of old men stooped over a table.

But if you'll excuse me - there is a fire burning in the yard and people having fun around it.  Must dash -

Angry not so young Turks

When one chubby middle aged Turk in an otogar hurdles a counter and
goes for another - you just *know* that it's not because they have
just discovered that they are long lost twins!
--
Sent from my mobile device

Day 17: A Malatya Tapestry *

The hammock days are behind me for now.  Yesterday I arrived in Malatya after an overnight bus odyssey from the Mediterranean coast.  Today I depart for Erzurum.

Malatya has to be the rudest town in Turkey.  From the moment I arrived I have been jostled, cut off, hissed at and treated as a walking wallet.  And it's an ugly place.  My guidebook says it grows on you – but after 24 hours here the only things growing on me were a film of stale tobacco smoke and a case of deafness from the ridiculously loud loudspeakers on the mosque across the street.  So I'm leavıng and, with a choice of spending 10 more hours in Malatya or spending those same hours out at the Otogar (bus station) I opted unhesitatingly for the bus station!  I doubt there can be a more devastating condemnation of a place than that its best feature is the departure plaza of its bus station.

Day 11: View from a hammock

I've figured out how to blog from email. The world is no longer safe.

I'm lying in a hammock beneath a shady tree, but thinking of getting
up and taking a walk through some atmospheric ruins down to a beach.
It's spring and the weather in Olympos is perfect. Does it get any
better than this?

Day 10: The trees of Olympos

Bodrum to Fethiye to Olympos – I am in full stride, working my way along the bottom left corner of Turkey.  I haven't blogged for a while because I haven't had access to a PC.  My lodgings usually have wireless internet but I haven't figured out how to post to my blog from the iPaq.  Maybe I should just spam everyone in email ...

Day 6: Wonders do cease

It's been a while since my last entry - I have been on the run since the 24th.

Gallipoli

It turned out to be a consıderably smaller event than 2005, apparently only about 7,000 attendees.  However, everything on the 24th was screwed up by security atrrangements for the VIP dignitaries such as NZ's Prıme Mınister and Australia's Governor General, and the Governor of Çanakkale.  Owing to the obvious risk of World War III breaking out should any of these stuffed shirts be injured, the entire Anzac area was locked down and the public were excluded from 10am to 5pm.  We wound up cooling our heels in Eceabat.  I thought these people were elected to wait on us, not we on them!  We are the ones who paıd to be there - and who also paıd for these politicians to be there.

Day 2: İstan bull

Didn't have an opportunity to blog yesterday – how humiliatıng!  However, I dıd make the followıng post on the Lonely Planet websıte:

Plastıc bags are charged for at Abu Dhabı too - 1 dırham each.

The observant will notice that the i's in the above paragraph are short a few dots. Here they are: ... It's been several years since I last used a Turkish keyboard.

Day 0: Take Off!

... But first I have a few last minute chores.

Day -1: Killing time

I was going to do all sorts of things today, but it turns out that my mail holding, which should have started tomorrow, is already in place; and the agents have not inspected my former flat so I can't complete the paperwork on that yet.  I have contacted the agents and they've assured me the inspection will be done tomorrow morning so I will drop in there to sign the forms after lunch tomorrow.

Day -2: Saying goodbye to melbourne

Had a nice wander today – down St Kilda Road to the Shrine, to St Kilda and along Acland Street and St Kilda beach, then back into town on the 112 tram.  I do something like this before each long trip, just sort of saying goodbye to home.  Last trip and this trip it is especially symbolic as both are long trips, not just a month or two.