Once Upon A Time In Tajikistan-Part 3
A drive to remember
This time I wanted to take a walk south. I could see trails going up the mountain outside of town and was craving a hike. So far no police encounters. All good. About a mile south there is an army outpost. The gate guards look intrigued as I walk by. “Salam” I say to them, placing my right hand over my heart. They return the gesture in kind with big smiles. The trail begins in the fields and leads up out of the valley. I walk along it and past a few people digging trenches. Again more inquisitive looks and laughs as I wave to them. Just as I begin to climb out of the fields a farmer frantically runs towards me waving his arms no and yells “Taliban sniper boom boom!”, points to the Afghan side of the mountains and then points to me “Boom boom!”. Well ok I thought, I guess I wont be doing any hiking around here. On the way back I decided I would at least get another selfie at the river. I make it to the water, the other side so close it feels like I could jump over. What a sight. As soon as I take the picture, three soldiers in camo come out of the bushes about 50ft from me. They walk up to me with serious frowns and start asking rapid questions in their language. “Sorry I’m just a tourist." I say with a kind smile. They wave me off to go back to the village. Got lucky with that one, I guessed. In the center of town, there is an ice cream shack. I enjoy amazing peppermint chocolate and step off the road as another battalion of soldiers enters the town. The Officer tips his helmet in my direction as I watch the column go by. The hundreds of soldiers also look at me as they march along. I wonder what they were thinking.
At the guesthouse I meet two guys from France, Guilhem and Benjamin. I remember driving past them on our way to the Tajik border back in Kyrgyzstan. They had been riding their bicycles from Thailand. They were thinking about trying to ride all the way back to France. Crazy. Travel is a never ending series of “nice to meet you” and “see you later”. It is what it is. They give me tips about off the beaten path places to visit in France. I’ll be sure to check it out when I get there. Some more days pass playing with the kids and enjoying plov with the guys. Mama had left on business so I did not get another opportunity to talk to her or ask for a picture, but if you end up at the Hanis Guesthouse trust me you’ll know who she is when you meet her. One day Ahmed came to visit from Khorog on his way back to Osh with a new tour group. It was nice to see him again and he was able to tell the other guys more about me. The time on my visa was running out so I would have to leave soon. In the village center they run 4x4 taxis to the capital for around $60 per person local price. The drive will take approximately 30 hours following the border until morning where we leave the mountains and turn north into the central plains, than onward to Dushanbe.
The day came to say “See you later.” At the gate, one of the guys asks to trade hats. I was traveling for awhile now with this really good foldable sun hat, and he had a small blue Adidas cap. He smiles ear to ear as he puts it on. It’ll serve him well in the fields. When I get in I’m packed between two women and a child. Another lady sits passenger. The kids wave goodbye and as we drive away I watch them go back to playing on the balcony. A world away from it all. We stop at the gas station and my friend is working the pump. We laugh and I give him a thumbs up as he tells my travel companions how he knows me. The lady riding passenger speaks a little English. She said she works as an eye doctor and remarks how thick my glasses are. In a minute, Eshkashem has faded into the distance and into the past. We drive forward.
We pass the border bridge and I finally get a good look at the closed market and other side. To see the Afghan Flag waving in the wind was something else. On our side, soldiers covered the bridge. I couldn’t see who was across, perhaps Afghan police? There was also some rudimentary defenses and barricades such as concrete blocks and gates. I had heard it is possible to get a visa in Khorog to visit the Wakhan Corridor, but this was back in 2017. As of recent with the Taliban takeover, I don’t know now if it is possible. The road is quiet with the exception of animal traffic. All gravel, extra bumpy. I know I’ll get bruises from this one. The drive is not kind to vehicles. We get a flat tire and sit for awhile. There is a lone house down by the river. The family brings us water while we wait. Another taxi 4x4 comes by completely overflowing with people. The driver is kind enough to assist and provide a spare tire, even though his car is visibly unbalanced by all the weight. After a few hours we stop at a small building and I’m surprised to see hotdogs! The eye doctor tells me there is a lithium mine close by and poppy fields grow in this region but none of the people here benefit from any work going on.
We then come into Khorog, the regional capital of the Pamir’s. After quiet village life, this small town feels so high energy. People everywhere, traffic, cars honking, dust filling our nose. There’s young adults here too. Women all in colorful hijab, some burqa, but even some western clothing. We are not here long though. Our driver stops to pick up a new tire for his friend. As we come to the city checkpoint I see another entourage of swiss motorcyclists(such a unique trend, so many Swiss tour groups in this country) getting all their papers checked. The police were even taking all of their stuff out of bags for inspection. “Police no good.”, says the driver. He pulls some money from the visor along with his papers, gets out of the car and walks to the police before they get to us. “Shame if even the local people pay bribes to not get hassled.”, I said to the lady’s. They look curiously into my eyes, trying to discern what I’m saying, and then nod in agreement. Before long all is quiet once again and some of us nod off to sleep. We pass the French guys. I try to wave to them as we zoom by. Travel by bicycle truly changes the perspective. So immersive to ride pass these mountains. I’ll add the method to my bucket list. In the next village I remember seeing a basketball court close to the river. Quite the view to shoot some hoops.
It’s evening now. The river here in this area is a canyon. Steep drop of maybe 80ft. We stop for dinner at a restaurant. As we eat on the terrace, we see locals in turbans on the Afghan side riding motorcycles. Their side of the road is in even worse condition than ours, and follows right next to the cliff. They give us a cheerful wave as darkness begins to set in. We’re going to be driving through the night. One of the best night sky’s I’ve seen in awhile. The moon was currently in a hair thin waxing crescent. The clearly defined Milky Way disappearing in the outlines of the mountains. A few lights now and then from houses darted the valley around us. It was a bit nerve racking coming up to army checkpoints at 1 in the morning. I have doubts I would have made it through alone. They come up in a group surrounding and scanning the vehicle. Bright lights making it difficult to see. We hand our passports through the window. One soldier shines his flashlight in my face, studying my passport with acute detail. I can tell he’s asking where I’m from. I hear the eye doctor say Filipino. He makes a content grunt and passes our documents back. Got lucky again.
There is no space in the car. I’m starting to feel some soreness. We are scrunched up together and take an hour nap. I can hear the river, but cannot see it. Around 2:00AM we arrive in Kalaikhum. We are the only car and seemingly the only lifeforms out and about. All the light posts on the main road have neon designs from the Tajik flag, giving a green and red ambiance in the street. We stop at the hospital the eye doctor works at so she can grab supplies. Was good to stretch my legs. It would have been nice to see the scenery around us, you could almost feel the imposing scale of the surrounding mountains. The air had become cold, but fresh. There is a shop that is open and I’m surprised to see Redbull. The driver buys several with a determined grin. The rest of the night was spent trying to sleep while being jerked around by the road.
Dawn is coming. We are almost out of the mountains. We arrive at what I think is a border checkpoint from one province to the next. Two gates 100ft apart. Same process, we give our documents to the army, they scan it and give it back. They open the gate. We drive through and stop at the next gate which was manned by police. I see this officer has an Uzi strapped across his chest. He demands our documents. The driver starts arguing with the officer, clearly frustrated and logically trying to point out that since we were just allowed to pass from the army we must be good. The officer tells us to get out of the car and we go into the station to write down our information ourselves in a logbook. The two are stuck in a heated debate so I follow the others and just write down the pertinent asked info. Once back in he waves us through in irritated fashion.
As we begin to leave the mountains, the sun is rising. I can see the central plains below. The excitement of gazing upon a new landscape gives me a second wind from the lack of sleep. When we get closer to Kulob, an amazing thing happens: Beautiful highway! Clean and fresh pavement. Clearly painted lines. It’ll be smooth sailing from here on out. Just one final checkpoint to go where our driver gets out again with money and papers, then approaches the police before they get to us. We stay on the highway outside of Kulob but I still get a good first look at the people and commotion of city life. Even seeing nice cars again felt incredible. No more old beat up Lada's or dusty Overlanders.
The best way I can describe the scenery would be something coming out of a Dr. Seuss setting. Rolling hills of yellow and green grass with bails of hail ready for packing. We steadily go up and down with the slight elevation. At the top of the hills I can see how they continue to the horizon except in the east where the Pamir Mountains staunchly stand their ground. The highway climbs above the Nurek Reservoir. Incredible views with a multitude of vibrant colors from blue to red across the lake up the mountain. There is an island in the reservoir with the President’s Residence. We descend again into the final valley before our destination. The mountains that hug the north of the capital remind me of New Zealand. Below you can see the haze of the city. We have arrived to Dushanbe!
We pull into a large parking lot with many other dusty 4x4s. Packed full of people and bags everywhere. My legs and knees crackle as I finally get out. Saying goodbye to the crew I push past a group of taxi guys asking me for a ride. I’m staying at the Green House Hostel just over a mile walk. The weather here is a complete opposite to the Pamirs. I can feel the hot sun beginning to cook me. Its humid as well and I quickly become soaked on my walk. Checking into the hostel, there’s many motorcycles with Swiss license plates in the courtyard. My hostel room is empty so at least for tonight I have peace and quiet. I’m beat from the ride so I crash. I only have two days here before my flight to Kazakhstan to check out the Astana Expo.
In the morning, its time for a walk. By far one of my favorite past times(could you call it a hobby?) is roaming the streets of a foreign city. Outside of America, pretty much everywhere is more pedestrian friendly. You’re not forced to get a car and can make your way around through public transport or your own feet much easily. There are some days where I will walk from sunrise until deep into the night. Observing everything around me. Go away from the tourist areas and even into local places. From downtown to the suburb. Interacting with whoever I happen to come across. The novelty never wears off. I find my attention to detail enhanced because every little thing seems interesting and different. When you get hungry, just jump into a local place and laugh at the surprise from the people. When you get tired just relax in a park and watch what goes on around you. Great way to get some exercise too. Just trust your intuition and common sense. If somewhere feels dangerous then walk away. Zig zagging your way across a new city is literally an adventure!
The downtown of Dushanbe is clean. Wide streets, wide sidewalks. Good greenery. The architecture to me feels very European. Even fast food shops. All the men I walk past here are wearing business attire. Looking sharp. I’m going to Rudaki Park, in the center of the city. In there sits many statues, government buildings, monuments, etc. The first one I’m come to is the Monument of Ismoil Somoni. He was a King and hero to the people. He holds in his hand an emblem of seven stars, which is also on the flag. The symbolism goes back into legends and stories about seven mountains that sit above seven orchards in the heavens. Above the arch sits a massive gold crown. I walk under the arch and go onto the Independence Monument. Its a tower also adorned with a golden crown. Sensational architecture with impressive pillars at its base. Across from that I can see the National Flag Pole and can’t believe how tall it is. At 165m(541ft), it was the tallest flag pole in the world until 2014. Across from there sits the main government building called the Palace of the Nation. The President lives there and also holds main political events. Its surrounded by a fence and police patrols. At the edge of the park, there’s a nice overlook towards the rest of the city and valley beyond. Two college kids come up to me and excitedly try to practice their English. They tell me how they dream to make Tajikistan more known to the outside world and earn influence on the international stage. This country has suffered tremendously in its recent history, but now there is so much going on for the new generations. I tell them I think they will take their homeland to new heights.
That night I had some fantastic plov. The waitress laughing with me through the language barrier. The humidity is making me a bit sick, so I decide to call it an early night. I walk through the hustle and bustle of traffic alongside chai shops where turban wearing men give me inquisitive looks. The next day I walk to the airport. A straight shot down a main avenue. The custom officer tells me he hopes to see more tourists someday. I contemplate the next journey and say “See you later.” to this fascinating place.
And now a summary of the travel budget:
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