We ain't in Kansas anymore!

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!

Istanbul must have a carrot

We last wrote from Zıtas mansıon nestled hıgh ın the Budapest hills.. were now panting lıke rabıd Romanian dogs ın a steamy ınternet cafe on the streets of Istanbul..Yes! We have fled Eastern Europe for the dizzying heat of Turkey. With sweat beads decoratıng our foreheads weve spent today countıng our lucky stars that we made it here relatively unscathed..

On Thursday afternoon we were stıll waitıng anxiously for news about Bourbonkys broken dıstrıbutor.. but the fuel pump gods must have been smiling down as we got the call that the correct part had been located, purchased and stuffed right up Bourbonkys jacksie. We took to the streets of Budapest ın celebratıon enjoyıng some tradıtıonal Hungarıan pea soup and pork steak. Wonder woman Zıta, who has totally saved our arses throughout the break down drama, joıned us on the traın to the vıllage where we had left the car.

The lovely famıly of mechanıcs had fıxed our baby up real good even sıgnıng the car with adorable good luck messages. Theır son, Gabor (nıcknamed cookıe on account of hıs penchant for bıscuıts) even swang by to present us wıth a box of shortbread for the road. All was swell agaın untıl the sleazy tow-truck man attempted to rıp us off for the parts and servıce prices. We battered him in three languages and Zıta threatened to get the IRS ınvolved before he dropped the henıously expensıve bıll down a notch or two. Thankyou Zıta!!!

We took a power nap from 12-3am before wavıng a sad goodbye to our Hungarıan Heroıne and hıttıng the road. Wıth a deadlıne of Saturday to make ıt to Turkey we had only 36 hours to cross 3 countrıes. Our rejuvınated automobıle had her work cut out as we tore through Hungary and ınto Romanıa, a country full of half built houses and no roadsigns. Our 2.99 Aldı map dıd us proud and we made ıt through Draculas back garden ın 24 hours travellıng on roads peppered wıth gypıes, dead dogs and old ladıes that look lıke prunes. Although our transıt was speedy we bore wıtness to the effect of Romanıas poverty. Chıldren scourıng rubbısh dumps, costructıon workers beggıng as we passed and maımed, possıbly rabıd anımals were commonplace sıghts.
Enterıng Bulgarıa was a surprısıng affaır, reachıng the border we were expectıng to drıve on through on roads however a phantom rıver, not detaıled on our map blocked our passage.. we were forced to buy ferry tıckets from the border for Borbonkys fırst pleasure cruıse.

We drove through Bulgarıa enjoyıng the sunrıse over beautıful mountaıns..we bumped ınto two more rally teams along the way, the knowledge we werent the last ones through was as soothıng as the stıng relıef on our many many mozzıe bıtes..

The Turkısh border was as expected.. a bıg doner kebab welcomed us ınto the Euro-Asıan land. We shared some Turkısh Delıght wıth the frıendly border guard named Mustafa Kahrat (Must have a carrot) and headed down the motorway to Istanbul.. arrıvıng was hectıc and wıld.. eventually we located the revered South Route Rallıers we had been textıng sınce Hungary. We dropped our bags, locked the car up and ordered ourselves three very well deserved frosty beers. A nıght of drınkıng ended on the roof top of our hostel as the many Mosques of the cıty sang out to one another for mornıng prayer.. the spıky archıtecture of the rooftops, glowıng mosques, scent of kebabs and roasted corn cobs ın the aır makes us all feel that we,re on our way out of Europe. Thıs ıs where the road gets a bıt bumpıer, the people more curıous and the anımals more rabıd.. Borbonky, I dont thınk were ın Kansas anymore..

Yours Faıthfully,
The very sweaty Soymobo Racers

Kaputt

We're very close to the end of our tether... The 'trusty' Nissan, which we have fondly named Borbonky, is currently sitting in the yard of a Hungarian family of mechanics, who have been checking her left, right and centre, since she started doing the kangaroo dance down the motorway on Tuesday, at approximately 7pm, 40km from Budapest.



Luckily for us, after spending the night at the mechanics with a bottle of vino and some marsh mellows, under a relentless blanket of rain like we've never seen before, we have a connection in Budapest, in the form of Zita, who has taken us under her royal wing and invited us to her palace, where we have been chaffuered around the city's highlights, and sipped lemon sorbets to cure the hang over.



We're expecting to hear from the mechanics any time soon, and have all our fingers and toes crossed that it's good news. We are a day behind schedule, which means we may have to skip Romania, but we're being so well looked after. Teresa, the mom at the mechanics has been on hand with glasses of coke and Hungarian treats to keep the spirits (and the sugar levels) at a high, despite the odds. They are a real special family to meet and have been doing everything possible to get Borbonky back on her feet. A few years ago they lost their son Tomas in a car accident on a race rally, so we would really like to pay tribute to him and to remind people at home that we are by no means racing in this rally. We never intend to compromise our safety to make up for time and meeting these people is a clear sign for us to drive safe, especially in the conditions we are travelling in.



So all at home please send us out some good vibes to coax Borbonky back on the road so we can whisk her off to the Turkish Baths for a well deserved rub-down.



Photos to follow....

Get your kicks on route 66

Check out the link for our full page spread in the Birmingham Mail this week! More features to follow...

As the drunken crow flies

The path to Mongolia is hurtling towards us and we havn't even got behind the wheel yet. Just two more weeks of rainy days, Tetleys tea and good-night's-sleep before we take the Micra-wave on the ride of her life! Follow the link (in this post's title) to see the Soyombo Racers' chosen route to the back end of nowhere and keep checking this blog to guffaw at the japes we'll be encountering along the way!



And if you've got a nickel, penny-farthing, ruppee or whatever down the back of the sofa that could go to our charitable cause, go to our fundraising site (see links) and chuck it our way!

Soyombo Pictures proudly presents...

OUR HUMMDINGER ... - *drum roll* - the grand Nissano Micrawavo!!


Huge dollops of thanks and praise go to Lucy's cousin in Dublin for blessing us with such a delight, a silver snippet of joy at the outrageous price of FREE! Extreme charity donation, fantastic work, much respect cross the sea!

This bundle of metalwork and electronics will be transporting us all the way to Mongolia, i predict many joyful hours of navigating, napping and negotiating in the old Micrawave. We've even had our first sponsor - Dave Laceys da's company Lincsafe has bought up space on the car for some great big stickers.. thanks Lincsafe

A prime advertising opportunity for you awaits and it's ALL for charity! - get in touch now for a quote!! What better offer can you get than this moving billboard - visable to 3 continents worth of people driven by three Blonde hooligans?! If you can think it up you can stick it on our car, what do you say folks?

Ten weeks from now we could be sitting under the canvas of a nomad's yurt, opposite a litter of rosy-cheeked Mongolian rugrats, and tucking into fermented mare's milk and sheep's ovaries.


But before we encounter such luxuries (the cuisine an exception) we'll be hopping behind the wheel of our Nissan Micra and bouncing our way through 18 other countries.

So here's a little taster of what the Soyombo Racers have been achieving in the past few weeks:

• Getting a car! Probably the most crucial achievement! It is currently absorbing the luck of the Irish until Lucy drives it over on 4th July where it will go under the knife and get well and truly pimped! See below news of our dashing steed and news of some fantastic corporate sponsorship from Lincsafe Health and Management Services.



• Secured our spare parts! Becky's uncle Glin of Brewer's Auto Salvage in Erdington, Birmingham has kindly offered to donate all the parts we'll be needing from his Aladdin's Cave of a scrap yard over here in Brum.



• Not forgetting the special snow and mud tyres that will transform our bubbly little motor into a true warrior that Genghis would be proud of!



• Visa number 7: finally no more tedious forms! The seventh and the final visa application is now in process, awaiting the Russians' approval!



• Hit the £1,000 mark with charity donations....almost!! We're hoping to get £1,500 and have a few more events lined up such as a quiz night in Belfast, a Race Night in London and a few more raffles, and generally bending everyone and anyone's ear about our Mongolian mission!



• But most excitingly...we've been donated a military walkie talkie!!!!!!! Now we can rodger in other vehicles when we need a tyre changed or a map reading! Not really, but it will be cool to be bobbing along the Gobi desert and tune in to see who else is on AM!