Driving through Central Asia could be summed up on one quote from Miss Glover, "There's no need to cycle towards me with no lights in the pitch black on a mountain!"
Yep, it's getting hairy!
We've just passed through Fegana Valley, Uzbekistan, by reputation a volatile place due to the 2005 masacre in Andijon, but our experience of the place has left us with many a kind word to say for the Uzbek people. The journey so far has taught us 'if in doubt, ask a local', a rule which we applied a couple of nights ago when hunting for a hotel in Kokand, Uzbekistan. The enthusiastic taxi driver and his family insisted we follow him to his gaff, where he introduced us to his extended family and their beautiful home. We were presented with a three course meal of grapes from the vines growing above their courtyard, melon, tradional 'Plov' - mixed rice, beans and meat with fresh basil and chilli, bread and copius amounts of chai. Followed by an Uzbeki make-over by Maryfat, the bubbly granny, who painted green ink squeezed from leaves onto our eyebrows which stains them dark, apparently a mono-brow adds the wow-factor. The next day they treated us further to a tour around the Khan's palace, where he took his string of concubines for one night only marriages, and fed us up with yet another feast and some delicious yoghurt drink made with basil and chilli.
Meeting the Uzbek family was just what we needed for a positive introduction to Central Asia. The ferry of doom turned out to be not so deathly, despite the rude welcoming from very angry Russian staff who demanded our passports before ushering us to the toilet/ hell and our rust ridden cabin, but thanks to vodka and convoys, we all clambered into what we thought would be the safest part of the boat (the on-deck lifeboat) and made a merry night out of a potentially traumatising expeience.
After 5 hours of zigzagging back and forth across the border office to get into Turkmenistan, signing a million forms in an alphabet that might as well be from mars, we left the port of Turkmenbashi in our 5 car convoy and stopped over at the Kow Ata Underground Sulphur Lake. There's nothing like a sweaty eggy hot bath in the 40 degree KaraKum Desert!
Ashgabat greeted us with the overpowering arms of Communism as we rallied around the ex-Soviet city on the hunt for a homestay. The gleaming gold statue of their beloved former president Niyazov loomed down at us in the Vegas-esque square, the statue revolves to follow the sun throughout the day, they really love that Niyazov guy.
It was a relief to leave the land of Niyazov fanatics and 11pm curfews, although we do miss the full tank of petrol for $4! We now sit just 150 km from China, you can see it in the people's features. We're currently waiting on the mechanics to fix a Sump Guard onto the bottom of Borbonky, to protect her from the non-existent Kazach roads...Let the games begin!
