Abandon the Cube
ATC has joined the digital age (well, I guess we were kinda there already but now we’re even more digital) and we’ve loaded our first edited Youtube video. Rocked it!
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Let us know what you think! This is the first one of many and they will get better as we learn to edit and snazz up the video content.
Enjoy!
There is something very strange about the way humans approach booze, and how each nation address alcohol both politically and culturally in extremely unique ways. For example, in America we make it illegal for anyone under 21 to buy alcohol. However, when you do reach that age there is a massive party wherein your first introduction to the drink is compounded by the fact that everyone you know comes out to the bar to get you intoxicated. It is a right of passage, a coming of age ritual and a test of one’s man or womanhood. After that fateful night, drinking in America takes on a purely social atmosphere, and no real gathering is complete without it and every gathering with liquor is somewhat more casual because of the addition. Our time in Europe showed the same to be true, though with a bit less of an adherence to drinking ages. Not so elsewhere.
In China, where we’ve spent quite a bit of time, there seems to be no legal age (although officially it is 18-19). You can often find youths drinking at the bars who appear to be quite young. And in fact no one is ever ‘carded’ in China. Contrary to what most people might assume, this does not breed an atmosphere ripe for degradation. Chinese youths hardly ever take their lax drinking rules for granted, nor do they abuse the booze at a young age, as would be expected if we suddenly made the drinking age 18 in the USA. There is, however, a similar ‘right of passage’ for most Chinese males that involves alcohol. At banquets (which are the preferred method of congregation) everyone sits around a round table, and the person of honor goes around the table and does a small glass of beer or rice wine with every guest. This makes the guest of honor extremely drunk, and this is something to be quite proud of and admired (on special occasions, only). This often prompts Chinese men to approach Mike and ask, “How many beers can you drink?” Which, of course, Mike did not know the answer to at first. Now it appears this is a staple of maleness, though I cannot stress enough that it seems to happen only in large groups. By the way, the Chinese way of saying ‘cheers’ is “gan-bei” which literally means ’empty glass’ or ‘bottoms up.’ which they take literally when drinking beer. Another interesting bit of drinking culture in China– the person of more status should always have their glass slightly higher when clinking it with someone glasses. So, if you are not the guest of honor, your goal is to touch the top of your glass with the bottom of theirs. This results in fun games where people try to show honor to each other by putting their glasses lower. I saw one group of men putting their glasses on the floor to clink them, showing no one was higher than the other. Here is an example from a Chinese TV show:
In Central Asia we found drinking to be somewhat deplorable. Even worse than a man drinking is a woman drinking, and on the rare occasions I ordered a beer in public I could sense eyes judging me. However, we did notice quite a few drunk people on the streets at night, which means it is an underbelly sort of activity reserved for underbelly types. This obviously wasn’t the case in the major cities we visited in Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, but definitely in smaller towns drinking seemed to be a big no-no!
In Mongolia, drinking is a large part of life. We stayed with a family in their ger for three days and nights, and the husband attempted to get us intoxicated on a nightly basis. He would drink after dinner and smoke Pal Mall unfiltered outside his ger as he looked up at the stars. This cowboy lifestyle works well for them and they are extremely happy. Meanwhile, their drinking culture is very inclusive, they pull in everyone and the goal is to have as much fun as possible. There was little segregation because of my gender, and contrary to what I assumed, they welcomed me into their poker game almost immediately. When we left to get on the bus on our final day, our host bought us a round of beers which we all chugged before climbing aboard for a 3 hour ride (big mistake!). Alcohol is used as a social tool to make people happy, include more people into the gathering, and draw everyone into one ger for warmth, entertainment (no TVs out on the steppe) and hours of story telling and card playing.
We’re not experts on these cultures or their drinking habits, but that is what we observed while traveling around from place to place and trying to experience these cultures in the ways they exist when no one is watching.
Abandon the Cube has been around since 2008. While we’re not into celebrating a massive birthday party for the website or the concept, we’re excited about reaffirming our travel philosophy and taking stock of where we are, where we’re going and what we’ve seen.
By Ground Travel. By now you’ve all learned that we like to travel primarily by ground transport. Any flight across open land or water leaves the earth beneath you undiscovered, which we find goes against the spirit of how we enjoy experiencing the world’s most unexpected places. Over the past two years we’ve formed this website of travel tips, destination guides, humorous pictures, influential travelers who have inspired us and more so that we could share what we see and hopefully encourage other people to abandon their cubicles and see some of the world’s least trodden paths.
Time as the ONLY vital factor. To date we have inspired no one to quit their job. People look at us with raised eyebrows and wonder why any sane person would throw away security and comfort in exchange for several meals a day made out of rice. To us, time is the one thing that can really be stolen from you while you are on this planet. Nevertheless, people still think that if you work hard now by the time you are 45 you’ll be able to retire. In reality, who has ever retired at 45? The plan simply doesn’t work. Meanwhile, you throw away the best time in your life working, stressing and acquiring status, money, security, etc… but you can’t get that time back. Its a trade off and an unfair one in our opinions. I’m personally willing to work longer in life rather than abusing the time I have now. They say youth is wasted on the young, but I’m hoping they won’t say that about us. The reality of the situation is that society is designed to ensnare people. Right out of High School you have either college loans to pay, or else housing so you are independent. Now you have a car payment, insurance, health costs, food, your cell phone and internet….. even if you wanted to quit your job you can’t because you have bills coming in. That’s the way it is designed, and to an extent that’s why the machine of our economy works. However, if you take away all the things that require you to have a job then you no longer are in need of one. I do some writing for money here and there and make enough to cover my college loans. Outside of that, traveling full time costs us less than any apartment would, and we pay for that with money we saved while working in Shanghai for a year. We were able to save so much because we did not have a car, cell phones are pay-as-you-go rather than a 2-year-death-contract and we choose an apartment that was extremely affordable (if not minuscule). We figured out a way to Abandon our Cubicles and still meet our obligations, and that makes me confident that you could figure that out as well.
Experiences are Everything. I suppose it goes without saying that we weigh experiences very highly. We signed up for the 2010 Mongol Rally, as you know, because we saw the experience as an amazing opportunity to meet new people, have a great and daring adventure and travel 1/3 of the earth’s surface by land. Planning is still underway and we launch July 26th from London. Experiences and relationships are so important, and we hope to have an amazing adventure meeting amazing people on the Rally. Likewise, we’re excited about the new experiences coming our way after the Rally when we backpack through South East Asia and hopefully land in Thailand for a while as a place to kind of rest for a while, look for a part time job and save up so we can have more adventures down the road.
Reflections on an Amazing Year. Its is easy for us to say that 2009 was one of the best years of our lives. We left Shanghai on May 1st, 2009 and traveled by land all the way to Seattle, USA by December. In that half a year we saw and did so many amazing things that we’re likely to always look back on 2009 with a whimsical smile. From visiting Kashgar in summer, to driving across Uzbekistan with a giant; from standing near a burning crater in Turkmenistan, to living in a tent in Turkey during Ramadan; from roughing it in a cheap Bulgarian hostel, to riding a luxury cruise ship through the Virgin Islands. We nearly circumnavigated the globe (minus only the Pacific Ocean aspect of returning to Shanghai). That is why 2009 was a rich, and beautiful year. We’re hoping that the 2010 Mongol Rally that takes us from Seattle (where we are now) to Thailand via land and sea is as enriching, enchanting and captivating as the adventures of ’09.
As we depart Central Asia, we’re hit with a bittersweet feeling partially of relief and partly of sadness. Central Asia is like no other place on earth. Check logic at the door, and reason as well sometimes. The people are so vastly different from one another between the Stans that each place is like stepping into an entire new continent. Some are friendly, helpful and kind while others are greedy, rude and unethical. Its a region that will test even the most tried of travelers, and will cause even the most devout to swear. At the same time, it houses some of the world’s most cherished relics, a complex and interesting history and some of nature’s most comical and magnificent structures. While in Central Asia we composed a few top ten lists, here they are, as we say adieu:
Top Ten Illegal Things We Saw in Central Asia:
Top Five Things you Don’t Want to Hear while on rusted, Soviet Chairlift:
10 Most Difficult Things to Achieve in Central Asia:
Top Five Strange Things We Heard at a Restaurant in Central Asia:
Top Five Strange Menu Items in Central Asia:
Top Ten Strange Sites We Visited:
Top Five Things We’ll Miss About Central Asia:
Yup, Central Asia is a strange and mysterious place! We loved our time in the region, despite a few down times (being shaken down by cops, bad border guards and dishonest cabbys). We were lucky to be able to spend over three months in the Stans!
Since many of our readers view the blog through the RSS feed, we just wanted to write to let everyone know that we’ve made massive updates to the site in the last two months, and its worth a quick check to the homepage to browse through the changes.
Abandon the Cube - Website Updates
To outline a few of the additions we’ve made:
We hope you enjoy the changes we’ve made this past months, as always, if you have any suggestions please do not hesitate to contact us and let us know your ideas. We’re always eager to learn and fully willing to listen to your thoughts. A thousands thanks to the people who have already provided us with feedback and web support.
Darvaza Crater
Owing to a misplaced video of our last trip to the Darvaza crater, as well as an urge to try out new grilling methods and camping equipment, we bumped along the three and a half hour ride from Ashgabat to Darvaza last weekend. To set the stage, I pulled a muscle on the right side of my neck that morning, and was rendered useless. The idea of a multiple-hour, jarring ride through the outback seemed daunting, but the end goal of camping out again at the burning crater of the middle of the desert was reward enough to pack ice into a plastic bag and hold it against my neck the entire ride.
We arrived at 6pm, and not a moment too soon because a band of German travelers rolled into camp moments after our arrival, and were disappointed (to say the least) at encountering Americans in their territory. They huffed off into another section of the desert and set up camp out of sight. We set up camp in prime location overlooking the flaming crater just as a sudden desert downpour started. An hour later, a merry band of South Africans arrived and set up camp alongside our arrangement, and proceeded to cook their dinner. These four travelers (two couples) had traveled from the UK, and were heading home to South Africa via the Balkans and the Stans. They drove their own SUV, loaded with extra fuel cans and supplies, and were well equipped for camping.They were good fun to be around, and were as friendly a group as anyone could every ask for. Having come from the direction we’re heading, they gladly shared some travelers tips and hostel hints about Turkey and Georgia, where we will be in a few weeks. In turn, we traded information for hostels in Uzbekistan, which is where they were next setting their sights.
All tourists unaccompanied by a relative, must be in the company of a Turkmen guide, theirs was a friendly Ashgabat native named Max, who puffed away at his unfiltered cigarettes like a John Wayne character. That night, with all of the travelers safely inside their tents, he told us of a deadly black spider that stalks the desert floors at night. He finished his story and then rolled out a mat by the fire and fell asleep.
We awoke at 5:30 to watch the sun rise over the crater before cooking a hearty breakfast of steak and potatoes, coffee and an abundance of bread. The night before we had watched the crater get every more fierce-looking as the sky got darker, and we consumed a respectable amount of local beer in the process with our new African friends.We slept soundly, despite the constant rumble of trucks which were skirting the crater to lay a pipeline in through the desert, and in the morning, amid handshakes and waves, set off to visit a giant crater of boiling mud, which we had skipped last time. The crater was even larger than that of flames or water, and the mud boiled ferociously as we tossed rocks deep into the crater.
After much rock clinging amusement, we headed back for Ashgabat to visit the next best thing to the gates of hell: the Irish pub.
Kyz Kala, Exterior
Sultan Sanjar, who referred to himself boldly as Alexander the II or ‘Sultan of the World’ died of a broken heart in 1157. The woman he loved, it was discovered, was not a woman after all but a fairy. She had promised to marry the Sultan in exchange for three favors: 1) that he should never watch her comb her hair; 2) that he should never look at her feet, and; 3) that he should never embrace her. Naturally curiosity got the better of the Sultan and he discovered that when she combed her hair, she actually removed her head, put it on her lap and brushed her hair in that fashion. When he gazed at her feet he saw that she was hovering above the ground. When he tried to embrace the beautiful woman he discovered she was no more than air and fragrance. She thus explained that she was a fiary, and could henceforth only visit him in her fairy form. The modern tomb of the Sultan has a small square hole in the domed ceiling so his fairy lover can visit him from time to time. Before the turquoise tiles were removed from the dome of his mausoleum it was said that a rider could see the tomb from several days out. The Soviets, taking the lore about the Sultan’s fairy literally, tore up large portions of the roof in search of gold the fairy supposedly left her lover. It is, indeed, a very impressive structure, and well preserved (rebuilt). Of lesser importance, a small and rather bland mausoleum was built in the desert nearby for his actual (human) wife.
Moving to the East of the Sultan Kala and towards reality we discovered two crumbling Babylonian-like fortress remnants with corrugated walls and multiple stories intact. We ventured into the larger of the fortresses to discovered adobe stairs leading down into a cavern that dead-ended with a covered door. Were it not a world heritage site, I would have been tempted to get the shovel out of the 4×4 and find out what they kept in their basements in the 7th century. Originally built by Sassanians, the Seljuqs took power and used the fortress, called Kyz Kala, as their base in Merv.
Not far away from this ancient and mysterious structure is an important Muslim pilgrimage sit, a mausoleum for two companions of the prophet Mohammad. We were not permitted entrance as we were non-Muslims, which was okay with us as we spent the time on site examining an ancient water cistern and several ice houses used in the time of Alexander to keep meat cool throughout the summer. The innovation and technological adaptations these ancient people came up with would far surpass the average person thrust into the past in similar conditions. I sometimes wonder if we are really any smarter today than they were in the 6th century when they built the ice houses, cisterns and massive fortresses out of fewer materials than one can find in a bleak and desolate desert.
We lunched in the shade of the fortress walls drinking beer and unpacking our salads and soups as we watched herders run their cattle and camels through the fortress. That afternoon we drove around the city that has sprung up along the periphery of Merv. One village uses the interior of a small fortress as a dump, and we strolled through piles of trash, used needles, bottles, cattle bones and millions of blue plastic bags. A real shame for such history and culture to be turned into something of no worth to the locals whose history it is. It is a concept I have trouble fathoming, as someone who loves history, but comes from a country with only a few years, comparatively, of national heritage and a coherent past.
In my youth we would visit zoos all over the world. I’ve seen some of the most amazing zoos humanity has to offer, at the top of the list comes the Paris zoo and the Minnesota zoo, both of which offer a charming and humane environment for the animals while offering prime viewing and educational material for visitors. My visit to the Ashgabat zoo was startling, to say the least, and was accompanied by such a pungent blend of foul aromas that the interior of my nose began to twitch in protest.
The Ashgabat zoo, in Turkmenistan cost 1M, which is about 30 cents, to enter. After walking through the cobweb covered entryway we first encountered a fence with various hand-painted wooden signs showing which animals were available at the zoo. We noticed that the signs were removable, in the likely occurrence that one should die. Vulture were the first exhibit. Behind a low fence with a metal tin roof (in 100 degree heat) a giant vulture sat on a rock ripping apart raw, dirt-covered flesh. We heard a chopping noise and looked behind the shed, a man had some sort of animal on a wooden block and was using an ax to dismember the creature for food. The vulture seemed happy about the noise while it made the hair on my neck stick straight up. Hand-painted signs showed a finger and the words “Ouch!” next to the cage. There was no lighting, and each cage seemed like a death-row cell dimly lit and containing a vile creature of children’s nightmares.
The second exhibit was a swampy cage where someone had patched holes in the wire with planks of rotten wood and a street sign. Inside the murky darkness we saw what appeared to be a ROUS, a rodent of unusual size. I have no idea what this mystery creature was, it looked like a rat but was the size of a cockerspaniel. One was white, with red eyes while its counterpart was black with black eyes. It had a long rat’s tail and webbed feet, and it also was ripping apart flesh with its two buck teeth under an “ouch!” sign.
The third exhibit explained one of the many foul smells, a duck pond under a low fenced roof that had not ever been cleaned. Ducks mated at random and chicks and elderly ducks lounged together in their own feces, apparently uncontrolled. The ducks far outnumbered the space available to them, and some were sitting atop others, which might have been dead.
The aquarium behind the duck pond proved the source of another of the unidentifiable aromas. The pool was open-air and contained a large and rather impressive collection of algae. Dead goldfish spotted the top of the pond while frogs and tadpoles swam around happily in their lurid haven.
Behind these wonderful exhibits was the bear, wolf and lion exhibit. Each had its own hand-made cage with sufficient room to curl into a fetus and cry. We watched for a few moments as the wolf attempted to run in place before falling over the sink used as a watering troth. The lion didn’t budge, and the bear sat picking at the goo running out of its eyes. Tears?
There was a rather odd array of happy looking porcupines. At least a dozen of them in various cages lounged in abandoned tractor tires lapping at still water and chewing on wilted carrots. They looked up at us as we walked by as if to say, “hey! Its better than being in the desert.”
There was a large collection of farm animals, especially camels and lamas, which seemed relatively content to be fed once a day and otherwise left alone. The locals in the zoo gave the lamas a wide birth for fear of spit, and did not allow their children to pet the camels, which looked past their prime and overly tattooed, a sign that these were once work camels who had exhausted their usefulness.
A bird park was the final crescendo, with turkeys, pigeons and chickens of various breed lounging around their piles of feces and still water with one eye on the man chopping meat for the vultures and the other eye on the children who tapped gently against the cage.
Despite the abysmal conditions at the zoo, I was impressed to see mothers explaining to their children what they were seeing, and those strolling around the park looked happy as they eagerly pointed at the dilapidated foxes or clapped their hands in glee at a spitting lama. It was no Paris zoo, but it will be at the top of my list of strange experiences in Central Asia.
Nissa
Yesterday we got in the 4×4 and took an off road expeditionary tour of Nissa,which was once a Parthian capital in the 3rd century BC. At one point over forty towers surrounded the small adobe fortress on the hilltop, but today there is little remaining of the once bustling capital. Atop a sloping, man-made hill rests one remaining tower which we discovered is used by several variety of bee as a giant nesting ground. A desert hedgehog had apparently gotten too close to the tower, for it lay crinkled in a ball at the base of one giant nest.
Inside the fortress itself, which is little more than a hill where the top is shaped like a bowel with a large depression on top where former royalty once roamed. Today the interior is filled with a strange crawling plant that albino lizards seem to enjoy. The locals who occupy the region directly to the north of old Nissa have erected a small adobe structure in the center where a guard lives to ensure everyone has paid the hefty 16M entry fee. We did not pay this fee because the guards at the gateway tried to extort more money out of us, so we took the off-road approach and hiked into the fortress on foot. Not an easy task in 105 degree weather in a desert without shade.
Along the western wall of the fortress was an irrigation canal where dozens of boys were swimming and washing their hair. Down the road several other children sat at small booth selling soap or sponges. There are no child labor laws here.
Nissa itself is an amazing story, set up by the Parthians, captured by local dynasties and finally razed in the 13th century by the Mongols. It was one of the more heroic last stands in Central Asia, and the more skilled and equipped Mongols took 15 days to captured the walled city, destroying everything within. Once the Mongols left, however, the site was used as a Zoroastrian temple grounds before being abandoned as the land around the fortress became arid and bleak.
Uzbek CYM
One of the strangest, and most frustrating things about traveling in Central Asia has been the double standards related to costs. As Americans we take for granted the amazing equality we have inside the country. True, we have problems, but one would never walk into a museum and be charged a different fee because of the color of his skin. That is not so in Central Asia.
In Uzbekistan, for a local to get into the Registan it cost 200 CYM, for a foreigner it costs 7000 CYM. Similarly, to get into any sight in Khiva, a foreigner must buy a city-wide pass that costs roughly $7 USD while locals can pay to enter whatever exhibit they want for free or for pennies on the dollar. Can you imagine the same practice in the US?
For a local in Turkmenistan to get into the underground lake it costs 3 Minat, but 30 Minat for a foreigner. (Thats the difference of $14 USD). We drove over an hour to reach the underground lake only to be rudely shoved aside by a guard who demanded fistfulls of cash. In this stubborn instance we turned on our heels and left the park, a $14 USD difference is not only unethical, its downright discriminatory.
And cash is not only demanded at ridiculous sums, its sometimes simply taken. In Kazakhstan we were hassled by police, guards and railway attendants who demanded money, and when it wasn’t give they patted us down and took it anyway. A strange way to treat a visitor.
On your customs forms in Central Asia you have to list how much you are bringing into the country. We’ve heard of other travelers who didn’t report all the cash they were carrying, and as a result corrupt guards simply took the extra cash and laughed away all complaints. On the other hand, if you do list how much money you have you will get shaken down by one of the custom’s officials pals. Catch 22. We stick to withdrawing small sums out of ATMs, though even that is tricky.
Don’t get me wrong, I love traveling here, but the money issues are a bit annoying, and it really makes me appreciate the countries we’ve visited that don’t discriminate based on country of origin.
Gates of Hell
Dante readers beware, the “Gates of Hell” are very real. They are located in the middle of a vast, uninhabitable desert (not unlike the Biblical desert where Satan tempted Jesus) outside Darvaza, Turkmenistan
Locals say that someone was drilling for natural gas in the desert when the drill hit an air pocket and the friction of the metal piping exploding at massive speed out of a rock hole caused a spark to ignite the reserve of natural gas, setting it eternally alite.
Today the crater is 60 meters across and easily 50 meters deep at its furthest point. The flames burst out of the crater fueled by the natural gas, but to the casual eye it looks as if the rock and sand are simply emitting an enormous amount of heat and flame. At one point there was a thick cable circling the crater to keep curious travelers at a safe distance, but the heat of the eternal flame managed to snap the cable, melting sections of it into piles of ruble, while other sections have become fused into the landscape.
For roughly a kilometer in every direction the earth is grey and lifeless, inhabited only by beetles, spiders and perhaps a wandering lizard. A strange coral reef looking rock sticks up from the grey sand in stalactite-like formations. All attempts to identify the rock online proved futile, though I’m no geologist. The remnants of a now unidentifiable machine rest all around the perimeter, and as I circled the area I found lizards and other creatures warming themselves on the hot metallic surfaces of various engine parts presumably belonging to the unfortunate drilling device that started the whole saga.
Oh…My….God!
The wildlife around the dead ring of sand becomes more intense and is reminiscent of the creatures in Storm Troopers. Walking out to the crater at night with nothing but a flashlight and, naturally, a giant flaming crater to indicate the way, I managed to hit an angle with the flashlight just right so that in the distance I saw two tiny green gem-like lights glistening in the distance in the sand. I walked over to investigate and leaned in really close. The two gems turned out to be the curious blinking eyes of a spider the size of a golf ball, with his eight hairy legs extending out from there like so many reasons to run and hide. I slowly backed away and shined the light at the same angle across the landscape. All around me pairs of little green lights blinked like lightening bugs and panic rose in my whole body as my arms, thinking on their own, attempted to fly me out of there. I ended up with two flashlights, one scanning the distance for green gems to avoid, the other aimed at my toes so that if one came near my I could scream my farewells as my heart stopped.
50m deep crater
We decided to camp out at the crater, obviously this decision was made before I knew an army of giant spiders inhabited the warm sands around the crater. We set up our tent, started a fire of our own, and cooked a simple meal while drinking beer from the cooler. (We are Americans, after all, why not tail-gate the gates of hell?) In the distance, the crater raged seemingly out of control, the flames licking the sky as if to snap the stars right out and gobble them up. We danced around our own little fire to the tuns from the portable iPod, and listened to Mike play the guitar with the fire from the crater cracking the percussion in the distance.
Morning came slowly as the sounds of the desert kept me wondering and imaging what was happening outside the tent
Despite the giant man-eating spiders (that get bigger each time I tell this story, naturally) and the bubbling water that could cook you alive, or the crater of fire that form the gates of hell, I still find Darvaza one of the nicest and most interesting natural wonder I’ve ever had the pleasure of enjoying.
For more information on Darvaza and Turkmenistan please see read about our Second Trip to the Gates of Hell and our Turkmenistan Destination Guide.
testking – http://www.testking.com/70-642.htm
Caspian Sea Snake in Turkmenbasy
After the very long drive from Nohur to the Turkmenbasy on the Caspian Sea, and searching for a place to stay, we all ended up at the reasonably priced Turkmenbasy Hotel. For about $60 a night, we got a suit with a view of the Caspian Sea from the balcony. Initially, we drove all the way out to a peninsula to get a room at one of the new “Dubai of Turkmenistan” resort hotels. Niyazov’s dream was to make Turkmenbasy a resort town comparible to Dubai. Let’s just say they have a very long way to go. All of the rooms available at the partially constructed “resort” hotels were priced at over 300 – 400 USD. So we found a nice room at the Turkembasy like I said before.
After the hot drive through the desert, we were all ready for a beer and a swim. We grabbed a quick drink on our way out of the ground floor and walked slowly through the scorching heat down to the Sea. Directly out in front of the hotel was shoreline however, there were only people near or in the water farther down the coast – which seemed to be the same as what was in front of us. I walked down and started wadding around in the water. Immediately I noticed a thick bed of weeds about 8 feet from the shore. “That must be why all the locals are farther down the beach,” I thought. So we walked down. We hadn’t gotten about 5 steps when Lauren yells, “WHAT THE HECK IS THAT!” She was referring to a 4 foot long snake that was poking its head and neck about 1.5 feet out of the water. A longer coil was visible below the surface and was now resting on top of the weed bed. Then we started noticing several snakes poking their heads out of the water for air.
As went continued down the beach we found a clearing and started to get in the water, believing it to be snake free. We soon found out that this weed free area between the two weed beds was The Great Caspian Sea Snake Highway – serving as transport between feeding grounds. After kicking the sand around on the beach for a while and contemplating swimming, we really had our hearts set on swimming in the Caspian, it was now or never. Our friend and I stared at each other, picked up some small stones and plastered the area in front of us with a barrage of pebbles, and then dove into snake heaven face first. That was the first time I have ever swum out of fear as I, like my childhood hero, share a fear of snakes – Ophidiophobia. We quickly kicked out past the weed bed and tread water out in the Caspian. Then, we realized that we had to go back. Not wanting to prolong the inevitable, we turned back and made it through without a bite. I highly doubt that they would attack humans, but it was still slightly terrifying. I got out of the Sea, turned to Lauren and said, “Conquered it,” and we all went out for dinner.
The Caspian Sea
When we tell people that we live on the road, their eyes light up and they inevitably mutter, glazed-eyed: “man, I wish I could do that.” Usually we respond with an energetic pat on the shoulder and a hearty, “you can!” Naturally everyone has the reins to their own destiny, and can make of it what they want. For those of you thinking about the glamor and unending fun of a life on the road, here is a saga to solidify your wanderlust.
Two weeks ago we drove from Ashgabat to Turkmenbashi on the Caspian Sea coast. This 350 mile ride was exhilarating to me after a few dramamine pills, but exhausting and harrowing before they kicked in. Thanks, dramamine! The road, as I’ve mentioned before, was ill paved and lacking in forethought. One companion in the car called it “spine adjusting” while another prefered “joint altering.” Travel does wear and tear on one’s body. Did I mention it involved two nights of sleeping on the floor bookmarked by day long driving? Our immune systems were understandably down.
At any rate, the Caspian was well worth the adventure to get there by land. We (meaning Mike) swam with the sea snakes, we (meaning Lauren) frolicked along the sandy beaches and we drank to the sunset and good company (all of us). But, a day later, back in Ashgabat, we were lying on the couch with our heads in an array of buckets, tubs and bags, wondering between vomits what we had done to make ourselves so ill.
Three days later we were still sick. Dysentery looks fun compared to what we were feeling. Dementia set in the third day for me, and I lay in bed, squirming and holding my stomach wondering why Minnie Mouse was perched on the chandelier. And on the fourth day the doctor arrived with a magical array of pills and capsules and such modern devices as ear thermometers. The capsules turned out to be cypro, something I recently discovered I’m highly allergic to. So, coupled with the illness we had come to call the ‘Caspian Sea Virus,’ I also had an allergic reaction that caused my lips to swell. From the side I looked like Angelina Jolie having a really miserable day. The jokes were unending, but at least it was something to joke about! Sadly, there is no photographic evidence as I threatened to stomp on every camera that was pointed my way.
So, with collagen-infused lips (aka, allergic reaction lips), a virus that causes extreme migraines and stomach pain, nausea and dementia, we set off for a 4th of July party that was, ironically, Hollywood themed. I fit right in.
9 days later the majority of us were feeling better, though still tired. Even mid-hurl I was thinking to myself, “I’d rather be here with my head in this bucket than anywhere else on earth.” Travel provides an unending series of chances to test one’s self, and to discover one’s self while discovering the world. I discovered (this is a very Carry Bradshaw ending, I know) that I’m happy to have a misaligned spine and vomit in my hair, so long as it means I can have these things in tandem with an adventure such as the one we’ve set our course for. Sometimes things in life are as simple as black and white.
Bazaar Ladies
For many Silk Route travelers, the Push-Push bazaar outside Ashgabat is one of the greatest highlights of the road. The bazaar spans several square acres and includes a livestock bazaar, car bazaar, construction section, clothing, fabric and national arts and crafts. Anything you can imagine wanting can be found at the bazaar. Opened on the weekend and on Thursday, the bazaar is teeming with people from every walk of life in Turkmenistan. From agile old ladies grinning rows of gold teeth to young boys pushing portage carts.
I arrived with a friend at 11:00am on a Sunday, Mike having decided to stay behind for some extra computer time. The parking lot was little more than a collection of hundreds of cars in various states of disarray parked along and atop the rolling sand dunes that surrounded the enclosed bazaar. We added our jeep to the pile and set of across the dunes towards the main entrance, a lavish two story entryway crawling with people. Within moments of entering the bazaar we had been spotted by a gang of pick-pockets, who use a system of distractions and bumping to pry valuables from unwitting shoppers. I walked ahead of my friend, snapping pictures, all of my valuables in my camera bag at my hip. Behind me, my friend watched my back, turning suddenly every once in a while to catch some young man suddenly very intensely studying a tire, or fabric, or whatever was at hand. It was a hilarious parade of obviousness, with the pick-pockets eventually losing their patience and trying to blatantly reach into my camera bag. They got nothing and our system, albeit an old trick, was effective in deterring them.
The bazaar itself was well worth the visit, and remains one of the most astonishing collections of humanity and merchandise on the planet. Rows a half mile long of rugs extended several columns deep, with each carpet hand made by Afghans, Turkmen, Uzbeks and Tajiks. The carpets looked like an off red oasis amid the desert, and even odder were the old ladies with long, white braids and gold teeth, who eagerly sketched numbers in any currency you demanded, all while telling the history of each piece.
We walked for several hours around the maze of booths, from canning equipment and seeds to dresses and lace and carburetors, there was little we did not see in the bazaar, yet so much that is unexplainable, like an entire row of women, a half mile long, selling exactly the same fabric collar at exactly the same price.
Back outside the bazaar several hours later we searched the dunes for our jeep and found it along a dune that had been cut open by a small marmot. We spotted the odd creature running across the dune behind the jeep- it had the legs of a racing dog, the head of a cat and the belly of a rabbit. We ran after it, despite the 100 degree weather, and chased it into a hole that had visibly dangerous claw markings along the interior, but it was gone. We drove the jeep up and down the dunes several times on the excuse that the suspension needed to be tested. In reality that kind of off roading is exhilarating—and the suspension, we now know, is fine.
Camel
Last night in Nohur we slept on the floor, atop rugs and a small pad. Throughout the night we slept off and on as dogs fought in the alleys and cats cheered or booed their progress. Scurrying lizards awoke me with fresh fear for scorpion attacks and we could hear the rushing gas in the pipeline outside the window. The only bathroom was down a winding, unlit alley and was little more than a hole in the ground with a door. At 9 we were up and packing the Jeep while Damat and his wife made us a lovely potato and egg breakfast with tea.
We took pictures with the family before our departure and Damat’s wife again kissed my neck and brushed my chest with her hand as we pulled away. We bumped along the lizard valley until reaching the main road that stretches lazily across Turkmenistan, from Ashgabat to Turkmenbashi, on the Caspian sea. Though there are only two major roads in the country, it was in a state of utter disrepair, and we bounced along the spine-adjusting road with care. Now and then we would see something of interest and the car would screech to a halt for further inspection. Our first caravan of unmanned camels represented an awe-inspiring moment where I realized the silk route was more about patience and fortitude, and man challenging nature, than about commerce. The men who rode the goods through this desert were fighting a force larger than man itself, and had to face amazing hardship with bravery bordering on insanity. The desert was dune-less but equally as barren as the Taklimakan. Here and there a small bush grew, and under it lizards fought for shade as spider’s weaved their webs overhead. Surprisingly the desert is full of life. We passed so many camels that after a while, I sadly lost track. Interspersed with these were sickly looking cows and healthy looking donkeys. Goats and rams were herded by lone men, whose weather-beaten faces looked like leather. All the while, with my face pressed against the window, we sat comfortably in our air conditioned 4X4.
Comfortable is a stretch, as the road, which was paved and then touched up with blacktop, had baked in the sun so that every car going west was pushing the melting tar and gravel into ripple-like clumps. Every thirty feet there was another blown out tire resting by the road, a testament to the unreliability of the road. We had a spare, but only one, and the frequency of tires indicated that we should have brought a replacement tire for each good one already wearing down underfoot.
Despite the bumping, jarring and wavering of the road, the scenery was right out of a lunar adventure novel. At one point we stopped the car so I could attempt to pet a camel. Silly foreigner. I ran after the camel with my arms outstretched, hoping to convince the camel of my good intentions. I galloped after the camel at full sprint, yet it managed to our maneuver me and escape my petting. At another screeching halt at my bequest, I managed to feet a camel a piece of bread. The baby camel apparently disliked the flavor, for it promptly spit the piece out onto my shoe and ran off laughing. I followed it and again attempted to inflict petting upon the camel, but it resisted and ran off into the desert to look for shade.
The drive from Ashgabat to Turkmenbashi is 9 hours. At some points in the so-called ‘road’ you can travel no faster than 10 miles an hour. Thus, when we glimpsed our first of the Caspian Sea there were sighs of relief all around. The Caspian, from the west, is a sharp blue-green that contrasts so drastically with the paleness of the white desert that it at first causes one’s eyes to water. It is a truly beautiful body of water, and we followed its curves as we headed north to Turkmenbashi, eager to take a dip in its turquoise waves and wash off the camel spit.
The small and relatively untouched village of Nohur rests in an unmarked valley of the Kopet Dag Mountains, which make up the border of Iran and southern Turkmenistan. The people of Nohur dress and act conservatively, and their traditions have been able to survive Turkmenistan’s modernization because of the remoteness of their village.
Descendent from Alexander the Great, the Nohurli are surprisingly hospitable. We arrived at 6pm via 4X4; the only way to reach the town is down a long pebble road flanked by shale mountains covered in lizards. As we rounded a desolate corner, we were amazed to find a small village awaiting our arrival. Damat jumped in the back seat and smiled as he pointed up a narrow alley. The engine was gunned and we bumped along on our nearly vertical assent up the northern face of a hill in the middle of Nohur.
The roads were little more than compact dirt and rocks where water had once drained from the hills, yet a village had found this method of road making suitable to their needs. Large adobe houses sat firmly on their wooden beams (though where the wood came from was a mystery is this desert landscape). Children and elders dashed in front of the 4X4 to look at our pale faces as we pushed them to the glass to return their eager stares. Finally, with Damat pointing out the window and whispering the village’s secrets in Russian, we stopped at his hill-side home.
Damat introduced us to his wife and granddaughter. His wife, an elderly woman with all gold teeth and sun-damaged skin, grasped my shoulders firmly and planted three or four wet kisses on my neck before running her calloused hands across my chest and smiling at me. I stood shocked for a moment before I could smile back—chest rubbing was not a normal Turkmen greeting, this must be native to Nohur. Damat, thankfully, just shook my hand, and his granddaughter simply hid behind his leg and peeked out from time to time to look at my reddish hair or my white fingernails. She was a beautifully, frail child of about eight, dressed in bright colored western clothes that contrasted sharply with her grandmother’s traditional dress and headscarf.
They settled us into a small, empty room and set up a tarp on the floor. They piled bread, butter, home-made cheese and other treats on the tarp and poured us each a hefty cup of tea. Damat sat cross-legged on the floor and began to talk adamantly, using gestures as much as any homesick Italian. We ascertained that he wanted to show us around town in the morning. Since we already had onward travel plans he agreed to take us on tour of the area tonight. He jumped up and yelled for his granddaughter, and we were off.
We bumped along a dirt road that looked little used and likely to peter-out into a rock drop off, but Damat continued to point out the window and insist we crawl forward, no matter how much the Jeep leaned to one side. Though we were threatening to topple over, Damat insisted we continue to the city’s graveyard. The graves cannot be explained as we did not understand Damat’s gesturing, but suffice to say that each headstone had a ram or gazelle’s hors firmly tied to the peak, giving the cemetery a warrior-like feel.
We bumped along the road at a 40 degree tilt to the right until we reached a lone house on the hill, we got out and walked up the steep steps to find one of the oldest surviving trees in Central Asia, which is covered in bits of cloth representing villager’s wishes (mostly for a male child). The steep steps led further up the hillside so we traversed them to find a small cave claiming to be the resting place of Kyz Bibi. Legend has it that when an invading force was nearing this unfortunate woman prayed that the mountain would swallow her up rather than allow her honor to be challenged. The mountain obliged and the tiny cave that remains is testament to Kyz Bibi’s bravery.
We continued on our Nohur journey deep into the ravine and then urged the Jeep forward and onto a flat plateau. After 12k we disembarked in a small ravine filled with cows, toads and lizards and marched down the hill following Damat and his granddaughter. They led us through the brush to a clearing made entirely of rock. Damat grinned as he led us right to the edge of the rock plateau and pointed over the edge. “This is easily a 100 foot drop-off” I thought as Damat held his granddaughter’s hand so she could lean way over the edge to catch a glimpse of the waterfall. I snuck a peek as well, the water was pouring out of mountain seemingly conjured from out of nowhere. A small trickle of water ran across the top of the plateau, but this was hardly enough to feed the waterfall. Damat, though easily in his seventies, quickly scaled down the side of the rock face for a better view, with all of us skeptically in his wake. The view was dangerously beautiful, for as you looked around you started to waver from awe and could easily “ooh” and “awe” your way off the edge. We sat for a while, the lizards scurrying in the background, and listened to the falls.
Back at the house Damat’s wife had prepared plov and tomato salad for dinner. Damat waved her away good naturedly and steered us to a house nearby that was his son’s. Inside a frail but beautiful girl, his daughter-in-law, was weaving silk. The loom stretched from one wall to the other, and required amazing dexterity as she pumped the loom with her feet and passed the shuttle with her able hands. The silk takes several days to make, but they wanted only $20 per piece, which is about 6 feet long. We watched her work for several minutes and then easily coughed up the money for a fine piece of blue silk.
Back at Damat’s house, his wife had set the tarp out on the roof of the house so we could watch the sun finish setting. We all took our places on the floor around the tarp and began to eat. “What is that thing?” I yelped before I could control the urgency in my voice. Mike looked over and caught a quick glimpse, “it’s a scorpion!” We sat silently looking around, our heads rotating like an owls. I grabbed my notepad and quickly sketched a scorpion and showed it to Damat, who leaped up with an agility that shocked me, and ran to the spot. The critter was long gone, but Damat informed us that they were very bad, and we should be careful. We sat on the roof into the late evening as the sun gave way to the moon and a blanket of stars filled the sky. Nohur’s lights came on one by one as we watched, and soon the whole valley was specked with soft yellow bulbs. Late into the evening a chanting rose from the valley, the last call to prayer. We watched the stars circle the mosque as the moon dipped behind a hill, and listened to the chanting prayers of a devout village, a hidden village, as it prayed its way to sleep.
Merche Ruins
We decided to take a weekend trip out to the Caspian Sea from Ashgabat. Leaving mid-afternoon on Friday we planned to stop in the small village of Nohur in the heartland of Turkmenistan – the Ahal Region. Located between the Kara Kum Desert and the Kopet Dag Mountains to the South, the Ahal Region boasts a long Silk Road history as well as ties to Alexander the Great.
On the way to Nohur, we passed the ruined city of Murche that also holds the tomb of Zengi Baba – the patron of cattle breeders. Zengi Baba comes, most likely, from the Zoroastrian reverence toward cattle. The ruined city of Murche, crumbling mud walls, spreads the distance before the foothills of the Kopet Dag mountains in the background. Murche was eerily silent but one of the more interesting attractions around Murche and the Zengi Baba mausoleum are the assortments of fossils. Surrounding the mausoleum and small tree grove, sit several fossils of choral, amphibians, and even what are said to be dinosaur eggs. Many people argue that they were cannon balls put on display. However, one was cracked in two and the central of the fossil had what could be argued to be a yoke.
After walking through some of the ruins and picking through the dirt at the hundreds of pottery shards, we got back in the car and proceeded towards the turn off for Nahur. Another hour or so farther down the road, we passed Archman and missed the turnoff. Luckily, the Brandt Guide mentioned a really small green sign that marked the turnoff to Nahur. Eventually we spotted the sign and bounced down the bumpy road toward the mountains. We climbed from sea level to about 1000 m and saw some amazing landscape. The people of Nahur claim to be direct descendants of Alexander and his army. We noticed more pale blue eyes in and around Nahur than anywhere else in Central Asia.
The dusty desert slightly gave way to more mountainous terrain. Strange mountains were widdled down to sand dunes or piles of shale. Large lizards, only a little smaller than a coffee table were visible on the rocks. They would dart out of view just as the jeep would round a turn or bend. Farther up the mountains, we could see small areas of green leading us to believe there were hot springs other geothermals in the area. After about 10-15 km we reached the city of Nahur with ancient stone buildings and homes. It was an eden in the middle of the desert mountains. However, we had no idea how much farther we had to go to get to the Caspian.
This afternoon we ventured out of Ashgabat to see the museum to the Turkmen’s last stand against the Russians. 15,000 men, women and children were massacred and the site was turned into a collective farm during Soviet times. Today the site is protected, and one can see soft ruins in the distance which are unreachable. In lieu of seeing the actual ruins one can check out the museum, which is a majestic work of art containing actual artifacts from the site as well as countless artist recreations of the massacre scene.
Turkmen
In the same parking lot as the massacre museum lies the Saparmurat Hajji Mosque seating 8,000 visitors. The mosque is unlike any other on earth. The former president Niyazov made his pilgrimage to Mecca and received US $10 billion in aid from the Saudis to put towards furthering Islam in Turkmenistan. Niyazov returned to Turkmenistan and erected this futuristic mosque, with quotes from the Koran intermingled with quotes from Niyazov’s own book, the Ruhnama. The centerpiece script said, “The Ruhnama is a holy book, the Koran is Allah’s book.” Niyazov insisted all Turkmen visit the mosque once a year, but that command was only loosely followed.
After touring the museum and mosque, we left with a surreal feeling, which we interpreted as hunger. Chuli Valley, outside Ashgabat , is an oasis in this otherwise sandy country. The green valley extends for less than two miles, but was well worth the visit. A restaurant in the valley served kebabs, fries and cold beer, so we eagerly partook as peacocks wandered underfoot. Sitting there stunned by what we’d seen, both in the massacre museum and the absurdity that was the mosque, we realized that Turkmenistan really is more aptly called absurdistan.
Ashgabat
From Ashgabat there is a cable car into the mountains that make up the southern border of Turkmenistan with Iran. For 2 Minat (75 cents) once can ride the 3.5k cable car dangling over precarious rock gorges and pits of gazelle bones. The cable car, which cost an estimated US $20 million to construct, takes less than ten minutes to complete. At the summit there are several points that overlook the white city of Ashgabat. From this vantage point the pine tree forests that are being cultivated in the desert sands seems even more unreal, like planting pine trees on the moon. If you were to face towards Iran, you could see small shacks extending across the ridge line where Turkmen guards kept watch. There were no roads to these shacks and I was reminded of the movie Dances with Wolves, where the lone soldier was posted in the wild. These guards, we pondered, must do week long shifts in order to warrant the strenuous and dangerous hike from where the road ends to their precarious perches along the ridge line.
Strange climbing clothes
When looking north, the Kopet Dag mountain range, which constitutes the major land mark of the Turkmen-Iranian border, is also the perfect place to view the Health Walk. This structure is, perhaps, the most famous of Turkmenbashi’s pet projects. The health walk is a concrete staircase extending from the outskirts of Ashgabat, up the Kopet Dag mountains and then along the border before cutting sharply west and ending on the highest summit overlooking the city. The walk is 37k, although now they have built a more manageable 8k extension. Turkmenbashi insisted that in order to keep his ministers and parliament members honest they should do the health walk once a year. They, and thousands of other civil servants, school children and others, would set off in suits and ties as Niyazov waved. He would then jump in a helicopter and meet the exasperated climbers when they arrived. From the cableway you have a panoramic view of this idiosyncratic project, which looks like a white Great Wall spanning the desert. Keep in mind that average temperatures reach into the 100s daily, so the health walk is more of a health risk than anything else.
Perhaps keeping in line with Niyazov’s wishes that everyone dress in their finest to scale the Health Walk and cable way, two women who ascended as we did were dressed in skin-tight skirts and see-through shirts. These ladies were a marked contrasted to the normally modest and conservative Turkmen women.
testking – http://www.testking.com/techking/
Black Market Exhange.
You can change USD to any currency in Central Asia. The Dollar is still truly king here and surprisingly, Euros have not quite caught on yet. You cannot change Chinese RMB (or any currency other than USD, Yen, Euros and in some places Korean coin) in Uzbekistan and there are only Visa ATMs, which are often empty and will not work after 4:00pm. In Uzbekistan, there are two exchange rates: the official rate (which, at the time of writing was 1422 CYM to the dollar) and the unofficial rate (around 1800 CYM to the USD). You can get the unofficial rate by asking anyone in Tashkent to change money for you or by using USD when you buy things. We would recommend changing your USD and then use CYM at the official rate of 1400 or 1500.
Here is how we arrived at the aforementioned information. We carried a small amount of Chinese RMB into Kazakhstan, where we had no problem changing the currency at the Almaty-2 train station upon arrival. Kazaks took the RMB like it was the Dollar. We spent all of our Kazakh Tenge in Kazakhstan but had a bit more Chinese RMB in pocket, which we decided to convert in Uzbekistan before drawing USD from an ATM. Previous to departure, I checked that my Chinese Union Pay card would work throughout Central Asia, and it was accepted. However, not surprisingly, by the time we reached Central Asia a month later, we found that Union Pay is only accepted in Kazakhstan and then next place we will be able to use it is Turkey. Therefore, we highly recommend traveling with cash or a Visa card.
We arrived in Tashkent, Uzbekistan at 5:30am on the train and discovered no money changing office at the station. This meant we had no local money for a cab or a bus, so we set off with our 80lb packs to the hotel on foot. All along the way we spotted exchange offices that would convert the currencies mentioned in the above paragraph, but not RMB. I walked 10km in search of an ATM to use my Chinese card to no avail. I even went to the Chinese embassy in Tashkent and asked someone how they got their money out. Like typical Chinese government officials, he was not helpful and simply walked away saying, “I don’t know.”
We met a friendly local who offered to help us change the now useless RMB for CYM, but this proved futile after several days of waiting around, phone calls and promises to meet his Chinese friend. Eventually, we gave our RMB to a friend who was heading East in hopes that he could change it in Kyrgyzstan and wire us the USD. USDs are awesome here, but I can’t reiterate enough, as much as they say China is involved in the New Great Game in Central Asia, they have literally no economic presence. Don’t leave Kazakhstan with RMB. This was one of those situations that you never think would become a problem, but it was numero uno for about 5 days until we figured out a solution. Luckily, we had some great friends to stay with and found some friendly locals to help us out.
Lamb kebabs – Urumqi, Xinjiang. Urumqi has an amazing night market near the park with beer, kebabs, nan, plov and other Central Asian treats.
Pizza – Tashkent, Uzbekistan. There is a locally owned Pizza cafe called Bistro in Tashkent with amazing pizza, good beer and outdoor seating.
Coffee – Tashkent, Uzbekistan. This is on the list at everyone else’s request as I don’t drink coffee. Cafe Jum is the best spot in Central Asia for an espresso.
Spiced Tea – Kashgar, Xinjiang. We ran into a man mixing tea in buckets by the mosque in Old Town. Amazing spices and knock-you-out tea.
Nan – Almaty, Kazakhstan. This is, by far, the best bread I’ve ever head, and it is totally different from Xinjiang nan.
Battered califlower – Tashkent, Uzbekistan. Steamed, and then battered and fried. Creative and savory.
Fatush – Tashkent, Uzbekistan. This Lebbonese salad is a mix of tomato, califlower, tortilla and vinigar. Amazing.
Donar Kebab – Almaty, Kazakhstan. The best donar this side of the Tian Shan.
Goat milk yoghurt – Kashgar, Xinjiang. Mixed with sugar and served ice cold.
Kazakh visa example
We applied for Kazakh transit visas and found the process amazingly easy (perhaps because we are comparing it to the process of getting an Uzbek visa from Shanghai). Last Friday we dropped off our applications feeling a bit worried. We marked “transit” throughout the forms instead of “place of residence in Kazakhstan” or “transit area.” However, despite being very vague we arrived at the Kazakh consulate in Shanghai today and picked up our transit visas without issue. For a three day transit visa we paid 125RMB each (about 20 bucks).
While they have no expedite service (and it takes one full week to get a visa) they did us a favor and got ours back to us on Wednesday, having dropped it off the previous Friday. They were very friendly and helpful.
The hours of operation for the Kazakh consulate in Shanghai are a bit strange. They only accept applications between 9:30am – 12:30pm on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. They will only issue your visas (for pick up) between 3:30 – 5:00pm on those same days. Come early as there is always about an hour wait. A guard will escort you to a small waiting area and then usher you, one at a time, into the main consulate room. Expect to spend about two hours each visit so bring a book.
As per most visa applications, you’ll need passport photos. Have these cut and ready to go as they were a bit anal about the sloppy cut job we did on our pictures and spent quite a bit of time ‘properlly’ trimming the pictures and gluing them lovingly to the application. In addition, bring copies of your passport – simple black and white is fine- and the names of the port of entry and exit for a transit visa (for normal vaisa, have the name of a hotel in a major city for the application).
The address for the Kazakh consulate in Shanghai is: Room 1005, 1006 Orient International Plaza 85 Loushanguan Road Shanghai 200336, P.R.C. You can call +86 (21) 6275 -3878 or email: office@kzconsulshanghai.org, or visit their website: http://www.kazembchina.org
Is this what is looks like? I wouldn't know.
This is apparently what a visa to Uzbekistan looks like, but I wouldn’t know. It has officially been 3 weeks since we began our endeavor to get an Uzbek visa. Although we are two Americans trying to get visas into Uzbekistan in China, we have come across some abnormal difficulties. We have been informed by several people that, of all Central Asian visas, Uzbekistan would be the most difficult to obtain.
Three weeks ago, we discovered the location of the Uzbekistan consulate in Shanghai – or so we thought. When Lauren arrived, she discovered that it was boarded up and that the office had not been there for over two years. So not only were all of the government websites wrong, they had not been updated for two years. The following week, as we were preparing to go to Beijing to go the the actually embassy to get the visas, we found some new information. After calling over 7 different phone numbers, a man with a very think Uzbekistan accent answered the phone. I got the address from him and we jumped in a cab down to the same Chinese government building you go to get your red work permit.
We met with man in the visa office, an extension of his office attached to a windowed door with a slot to place paperwork through. He told us it would be difficult getting visas as the relationship between the United States and Uzbekistan has diminished slightly over the last few years. This, I assume, has been because of the United States stance against Uzbekistan’s’ human rights following the Andijan Massacre in 2005. We were then informed that we qualified to be lucky participants in the “new and reformed” visa procedures involving Internet approval before we bring in our visa applications. We went home immediately and then applied through the Uzbekistan Ministry of Foreign Affairs website, which gave us authorization numbers. I called the visa official again telling him we had been approved with authorization numbers and all, but he assured me that he would be notified by the ministry and would contact us once he could issue us the visas.
Over the course of the week, I called him practically everyday until on Friday, we were told to come back in and reapply the old way. Having wasted two weeks, on behalf of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, we were offered a formal apology and submitted our applications and copies of our passports. That was now also a week ago. We will be persistent and continue to contact him tomorrow, but we have to get them next week so we can apply for transit visas through Kazakhstan. We will be getting visas for Turkmenistan once we arrive in Tashkent. More to come on the Central Asia visa saga and we will provide updates as they occur. If you are interested in going to Central Asia, we strongly encourage you to start your application process at least a month and 1/2 in advance, if not 2 whole months. We are optimistic that the other visa will be easier over the next week or so.
As every good adventurer knows, a good companion makes all the difference. At AbandonTheCube we revere those who have gone before us and applaud fellow cube abandoners. Below are a few other free-spirited blogs you might enjoy where the traveler has chosen to cycle away from modernity and into serenity.
Adventure biking
Bike travel:
For the avid travel biker, this site offers around-the-world adventure complete with tips for biking the road less traveled. The TravellingTwo site is dedicated to providing an online guide from people who have actually cycled through the area. Of special interest to us is their Central Asia page which details visa information. While some of that data has changed (for instance, all former soviet republics now charge the flat $130 rate for a multi-entry visa) it has other highly relevant information and well worth a read!
Similarly, two of our friends cycled from Lhasa to Nepal (by no means a minor feat) having encountered a plethora of adventures of their own, including one of the most hilarious and horrible international visa stories we’ve ever heard. We’ve learned from their experiences and are now rightly paranoid about Lhasa visas and permits.
Our trip:
Central Asia
We leave in less than two weeks on our pan-Asian train tour. While we are jealous of those who are self propelled, we’re more of the “read a book along the way” traveling type. We’ll be taking trains and buses from Shanghai to Ashgabat, where we will stay for several days. After a quick stop off at the gates of hell we will continue our voyage from Ashgabat north to Russia and hop the trans-Siberian through Mongolia and down through China and into South Asia to tour Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos, and more. This is just the beginning.
Top Four Places We May Consider Living
As the journey to Ashgabat approaches, careful planning is necessary. We also need to plan for what we will do when we get return, and where we would like to go. We will travel through some of our favorite places in China and will certainly discover more as we go. With jobs scarce, careful consideration needs to be given to choose the next destination. Also, just for fun I have listed the top 5 places I would consider moving to and living for the next year or two.
XinJiang
Easily a favorite of mine, the Taklamakan Desert is fabled for expeditions and discoveries; from Maro Polo to Sven Hedin and Aurel Stein, lost cities and ancient ruins are splattered across the desert. Arguably the harshest desert in the world, surrounded on the west by the Himalayas and the Gobi Desert to the far East, crossing the Taklamakan Desert of XinJiang Provence, China has been a long lasting goal in my mind. With some of the friendliest people I have ever encountered, Turpan, Urumqi, the capital, and Kashgar – the famous Silk Road trading outpost – would be great places to spend a portion of one’s life.
Uzbekistan
Easily a road less traveled for most westerners, Uzbekistan, a former Soviet Republic, is one of the most remote “Stans.” With a wide variety of languages, cultures and ethnic groups, Uzbekistan would be a great place to discover something new. Tashkent, the capital, would be a good place to start and find a job. The famous shrinking Aral Sea is rapidly decreasing in size due to drastic misuses of water from the sea and Soviet cotton production. Boats can be seen sitting in a sand dune where the harbor used to be 50 years ago. Having a 50% Muslim population would also add to the illustrious and interesting nature of this possibly misunderstood and understudied country.
Thailand
Considered the vacation hot spot for Australians and many Europeans, much like the Caribbean is for North Americans, Thailand is a tropical paradise. With several islands, forests, beaches and sunshine, Thailand would be a significant change from the smoggy air of Shanghai, China. Although Thailand is currently suffering some political upheaval over their democratically unelected prime minister, it is still a safe and desirable place to live. Famous for Muay Thai boxing, several areas in Thailand host Muay Thai training camps to give foreigners the change to learn this incredibly powerful art. For $3500 USD, one can live and learn Muay Thai for one month. Many foreign companies have set up branches or offices in Thailand because of labor costs and simply for the desire to live on the ocean.
Ecuador
Right smack dab on the equator, another warm beautiful country, perhaps not as frequented by travelers as Thailand, Ecuador bosts great culture and history on the otherside of the world. With thousands of years of Incan hisotry, World National Heritage sites like the Galápagos Islands, and massive diversity in climate because of the different elevations, Ecuador would be a great place to live – and learn Spanish. Also having friends from Ecuador, makes is a very desirable place to consider. Teaching Enlgish while learning Spanish would be a phenominal way to ride out the recession or just live regardless.
