Halfway Around the World

The Marble City

pushmorphine — Sun, 1 Jun 2008 18:32:00 GMT

It took us almost two days to get from Turkmenbashi to Ashgabat, the capital of Turkmenistan. The road was the worst we had been on yet, at some points we had to creep along at about 20 kph. We had a welcome break halfway through the second day when we went for a dip in some underground hot springs. We reemerged into the sunshine refreshed and smelling slightly of rotten egg. We arrived in Ashgabat around 1800 and I got my first look at the strangest city I have ever seen. Gaudy, tacky, mind-boggling are just some of the words I would use to describe it. Ashgabat is a mixture of empty Vegas and Pyongyang, the capital of North Korea. Huge white marble buildings, topped by golden statues of the previous president, Niyazov, or large smiling portraits of the current dictator, Berdimuhammedov. Massive fountains line the roads and at night the city is lit up by white spotlights and neon. The whole place is kept immaculately clean by an army of street cleaners, no litter anywhere. Despite all this no one ever thought to install a proper drainage system in the roads and when it rained they were all completely flooded! The whole city has a very Orwellian feel to it. There are no locals in the downtown area apart from government ministers scurrying from one building to the next. There are cops and soldiers on every corner who won't let you take photos of any of the buildings. A 2300 city wide curfew makes it is illegal to walk the streets at night. All the high end hotels, restaurant and bars are bugged. Internet access is almost impossible to find, most sites are blocked and all emails are read before being send through. There is a Ministry of Fairness and a newly built House of Creativity, large enough for two hundred journalists. Ironic considering Reporters Without Borders ranked Turkmenistan third worst in the world as far as restrictions on freedom of the press. Let me not forget the Turkmenistan Land of Fairytales, an amusement park where empty rides run all day with prerecorded laughs and screams playing in the background. Oh and my personal favorite thing about Ashgabat, it is illegal to smoke outside, but you can smoke inside all you want! Our first day we visited a market on the outskirts of the city where there were actually people. We ate freshly baked meat pies and perused the silk and carpet stalls. Back in the city we went up the Arch of Neutrality; a large three legged tower, with yet another golden Niyazov statue this one pointing at the sun, to get a view of the entire city. We took shelter from the rain in a traditional Turkmeni restaurant. The menu that included fish cum and Salad "For Men", which consisted of mayonnaise, shredded cheese, mystery meat and one small piece of lettuce. Our second day we took a trip outside the city to see the old Fortress of Nisa, a collection of low mud and stone buildings. On the way out we stopped off at Niyazov's Mausoleum which sits next to an immense gold and white Mosque that he had built to commemorate himself. On the towers of the Mosque in huge gold letters are not the words of the Quran but his own personal poetry! We also visited the Walk of Heath, an eight kilometer long set of steps build into the mountainside for no apparent reason other than every year Niyazov would make all his ministers walk up it in full suit and tie while he met them at the top via helicopter! After two days in this most bizarre of cities we headed North early on Saturday the 24th across the Karakum Desert towards Uzbekistan.

Stranded on the Caspian

pushmorphine — Sun, 1 Jun 2008 17:27:00 GMT

Let me start by saying this. If you are going from Azerbaijan to Turkmenistan do not take the Caspian Sea Ferry. Fly, drive through Iran, go up through Russia if you have to but for the love of god avoid the ferry. These ferrys make the cross channel ones look like luxury cruise liners. The exterior was a mixture of rust and white paint, covering yet more rust, and the interior wasn't much better. We were four to a cabin, which could only fit all of us if we were lying in our bunks. The mattress on the bunks were so moth eaten that you could go straight through them if you sat down too hard. My roommate, Ray's was covered in old red paint stains. At least he hoped it was red paint. There was one toilet for twenty plus passengers, and when I say toilet I am stretching the term. I don't think it had been cleaned since it's installation and no one could find the flushing mechanism for the first twenty-four hours. It was hidden down the back, where you really didn't want to reach without haz-mat gloves,. Squatting, dive-bomber style as the ferry rocks back and forth is a life experience most people can probably do without. Other than the cabins the only other places to hangout were deck, the "lounge" multiple rows bench seats with the springs poking through, and the bar. Still the crossing was only supposed to take fourteen hours so at least our time on the ship would be short lived. We had been forewarned not to eat or drink anything that was served on the ferry and had brought our own supplies. We ate most of the food that first morning for brunch expecting to be off by the afternoon. At 1400 we anchored just outside Turkmenbashi harbour waiting for our turn to dock. By 2000 that night it seemed fairly apparent that we weren't going ashore. The captain came down to tell us that we were third in the cue and he hoped to have us in the next afternoon. We ate what little food we had left for dinner and headed to bed. There was some good news, George had managed to get a ferry and he and the truck were now anchored right next to us. By lunch time the next day stomachs were starting to growl. We were also running low on water. The Bar sold fizzy water, at extortionate prices and we didn't have a lot of other options. We did however still have a fair amount of Vodka. So when the Captain came back down at 1400 to tell us we wouldn't be docking until the next day most of the group did the responsible thing and started drinking. That night, whether due to hunger or Dutch courage, we bit the bullet and ordered a meal from the ferry's kitchen. I don't remember much of it, but it seemed edible and I suffered no ill effects from it. That night, our third on the ferry, we were awoken at around 0200 to be told we were docking. We started packing up our stuff, slowly considering most of us were still intoxicated, only to be told it was a false alarm and to go back to bed. They came round again at 0400 this time to tell us the Turkmenistan Immigration officials were on board. We each were called up to the Captain's cabin were we signed our names to a random piece of A4 paper before being sent to wait in the lounge with our bags. At around 0630 the ferry docked and we all headed down to the cargo deck to get off. For some reason we had to wait another hour before we were allowed to actually step off the ferry. We had boarded the ferry at 2000 on the Friday the 16th and finally stumbled off, hungover and badly in need of a shower, around 0730 on Monday the 19th. Still the fun wasn't over. We sat outside the customs and immigration office until 0900 when it opened and they could start processing us through. The system is a wonder of bureaucratic efficiency. You go stand in one line and wait to get your permission slip for the visa. Once this has been achieved you stand in another line to pay for the visa, where an official then hand writes receipts in triplicate. Then you go back to wait in the original line to hand over your receipt and passport. Some time later your name is called and voila, you have your visa. Of course you still have to go through customs. One by one you load your bags onto an X-ray machine that no one actually seems to be watching. You can then walk around or through the metal detector, it doesn't matter since it isn't plugged in. At which point a customs official randomly decides whether or not to check through all your bags. Our whole group finally made it through by around 1300. It's a small wonder that Turkmenistan only gets three thousand tourists a year.

Baku

pushmorphine — Fri, 30 May 2008 01:18:00 GMT

It was a long, slow drive from Saki to Baku and we finally arrived late afternoon on Monday 12th May. Baku is a city going through its second oil boom and it certainly looks the part. New high rises are being built as fast as they can find the cranes to put them up. BMWs, Mercs and even a few Hummers zoom through the streets. Everyone is dressed up to the nines, with gold dangling off wrists and diamonds of fingers.

    Our hotel, The Absheron, was just off the promenade on the edge of the Caspian Sea. Not a bad place except it seemed that every floor was owned and operated by a different company. Due to delays to the ferry across the Caspian we stayed on three different floors in our four nights there. Each floor was different in floor and room layout, cleanliness, bathrooms, Internet access, even the TV channels were different.

    Spent the first day doing a walking tour of the Old Quarter. Saw the Maiden's Tower, named after the young lady who threw herself off it instead of giving in to the advances of her incestuous father. Also went into the Palace, a few Mosques, and another Caravanserai. Went to a Pub that night filled with British BP workers, and large Russian "working girls". They spent most of the time dancing on tables that creaked ominously beneath their weight.

    Our second day, Wednesday 14 May, we headed out of the city and to see the Mud Volcanoes. It might not sound it, but watching mud bubble up from the earth was actually pretty interesting. At least it must have been since I took about fifty photos. Then it was on to see some pre-historic cave paintings.

    That night we were supposed to load up on the ferry, but when George went down to the port not only had the ferry not arrived. In fact the port officials said they had no idea where the ferry was. "Somewhere on the Caspian," the helpfully told George. So we checked back into the hotel and hoped that the ferry would arrive the next day.

    No such luck. The ferry didn't ended up arriving at the port until 1900 on Friday 16 May. By which time our transit visa for the truck had expired. Despite it only being a ten dollar fine to extent the visa the office was already closed and no one at the port was officially allowed to do the extension. So George had to stay behind with the truck, pay the fine the next morning and then jump onto the next available ferry, which would hopefully be that afternoon. So we all trooped off the truck and walked onto the ferry wondering when we would see the truck again.

Crossing into Azerbaijan

pushmorphine — Fri, 30 May 2008 00:47:00 GMT

As we left Tbilisi I got my first taste of life on the truck. It is a converted refrigeration truck painted bright yellow. Sue, group leader, and George, driver, sit in the cab and take turns driving while the rest of us sit in the back or the "box" as it is called. The box has two rows of double seats, facing inwards so that people can talk, play cards, etc. The benches for the seats can be removed to reveal deep lockers where all our gear is stored. Windows run the length of the box and are made of canvas and plastic so that they can be rolled up when the weather is nice.   At the front end of the box a section of the roof has been cut away and also replaced with canvas. This can be rolled back so people can sit up there on mattresses in the sun and take photos as the landscape flies by. The only negative about the truck is that the suspension isn't great. Those people stuck near the back can be propelled several feet in the air if we hit a bump at speed.

    We spent the night in a nature reserve on the Georgian side of the border before crossing over into Azerbaijan in the morning. Originally we were going to camp but since the rain was back in full force the whole group packed into a small house. We were up early, which turned out to be a good thing since there was already a line of cars at the border. We had to get off the truck and walk across. In the end it was far easier for us to get across than the vehicle. The Azerbaijani border guards wanted a hefty bride to let it through. There was much negotiation, with Osman our trips Turkish elder statesman acting as interpreter. In the end we forked over some cash on were on our way. Interestingly the weather cleared up the instant we crossed the border.

    Spent our first night in Saki, a small town up in the hills of Northwest Azerbaijan. None of the banks were open so we had to use a black market money changer, ie random guy standing on the corner with a plastic bag full of cash, to change our Lari into Manats. Azerbaijan only recently revalued it's currency knocking off about three zeros so at first we were all pretty confused by the exchange rate since it was completely different from what was listed in all the guide books.

    We were unable to stay in the famous Caravanserai hotel since it was fully booked. Instead we were but up by a very nice Turkish family in there guest house. We had our own little courtyard and terrace. On Sunday afternoon the father brought out the family TV so we could watch Man U vs Wigan which was being shown on regular Azerbaijani cable. They are nuts about footie over here. Spent a day touring the the town, hiked up to the Palace to see it's stained glass windows and painted ceilings. Ate lunch at the Caravanserai. The food was pretty poor, usually when they say green salad you don't assume the mean grass, but the building itself and the gardens made up for it.

    After two days in Saki we headed for Baku on the Caspian Sea coast. Unfortunately, as we were on our way out the road gave way under the back right set of wheels causing the left set to rise up into the air. By the way, the truck weighs about 17 tons when fully loaded. The wheels had sunk so deep that it took over an hour of digging through rocks, clay and sewage to get the wheels free and have the truck pulled out by a tractor.

Tbilisi (Day 2-4)

pushmorphine — Fri, 16 May 2008 01:58:00 GMT

My plan was to spend my first full day in Tbilisi going up the Mount and then down through the Botanical Gardens into the Old City. Nature, however, was not being very cooperative. Not only was it still pouring but the all the surrounding hills were blanketed in a deep fog. I decided to try and wait out the weather in the comforts of my hotel room.

Around noon I headed downstairs and ran straight into my Overland crew who had just arrived. This was some what of a relief as the receptionist had told me the day before that she had never heard of Oasis Overland and was not expecting any large groups to be arriving in the near future. The group is certainly varied with ages going from 18 to 70, with the average being around 30. A large number of Brits and Kiwis, a couple of Aussies, one Turk, one Norwegian and one Yank (well 1 1/2 if you include me.) Most of them got together that night to go out to dinner and welcome me into the fold. My original plan had been to try and be a little quieter than usual while I got to know the rest of the group. However, after being plied with Georgian wine I was quickly back to my normal self.

The next morning the sun finally made an appearance and I was able to get a proper look around the city. Accompanied by Doug and Amber, the Aussie couple, and Margrete, the Norwegian, I headed down to the Old City. Doug and I climbed up to the top of the Citadel to get a good view of the city. He is a professional photographer and clicked away happily as I tried not to get blown off the top by the high winds. We hiked up to the top of the hill past the statue of Mother Georgia beforing heading back down into the city itself.

The group meal that night turned into a complete disaster. We tried to go to a traditional Georgian restaurant but they couldn't fit all 14 of us in. We ended up at a Japanese place that was completely unprepared for a group our size. It ended up taking almost two hours for us just to be served our food, by which time half the table was ready to commit hara-kiri with the chopsticks. It was suggested that the place might be a Georgian Mafia front, since it seemed as if the wait staff had never actually served customers before. The only other people in there were two large, unsavory characters sitting at a table in the corner chain smoking for four straight hours.

For our last day in Tbilisi the whole group piled onto a minibus with a guide and drove out to the David Gareja Monastery about 70km south east of the city. The complex includes hundreds of cells, churches, chapels, refectories and living quarters hollowed out of the rock face. It was originally founded back in the 6th century by Assyrian monks. We hiked all the way up the mountain hopping in and our of the caves as we went. Many of the original frescoes are still there as well as some of the stone altars.

Tomorrow we head to a nature reserve on the border of Azerbaijan where I will get my first taste of overland bush camping.

Tbilisi (Day 1)

pushmorphine — Tue, 6 May 2008 21:18:00 GMT

"You have a George Bush St?" "Yes, Tbilisi, my city...is paradox," replied my driver as we careened through the rain pelted streets. I was going to ask him to expand on the point but unfortunetely his English was only slightly better than my Russian and I don't actually speak Russian. As we bounced from pot-hole to pot-hole I couldn't make much sense of his lane changes, gear shifts, or horn use but he was friendly and we arrived at the Hotel Argo Palace in one peice.

If you are looking for a modern hotel and all the ammenities that come with it then the Argo Palace is not for you. Located three blocks south of Melikishvili Ave it is a simple place. But the staff is friendly and helpful; only one speaks English but they seem to time her work shifts with the arrival of guests. For around $30 a night you get a large, clean room, a private bathroom a small balcony (mine had a view of the Mount with its TV Tower, which at night is lit up like a Christmas Tree) and a cooked breakfast.

I wandered the streets of Tbilisi for several hours before the neverending rain drove me to finding the restaurant recommeded to me by the hotel. I eventually found the Vera Steakhouse, nestled within the park of the same name. I was a little worried at first. I make a big effort to eat at local restaurants when I travel and with it's wrap around bar, projection screen, and live music I was worried I had stumbled upon Georgia's answer to Applebees. However, the place quickly filled up with Georgians, at least I assume they were Georgian they all spoke Russian. The food was good, the local wine from the Teliani Valley was excellent and half way through my meal they put up the Newcastle vs Chelsea match on the big screen. I was having a damn good time.

By the time I left the restaurant the pestering rain had become a torrential downpour. I trudged my way back uphill, and would have been soaked to the bone had it not been for the invention of Gortex. Some of the roads were so flooded it was like fording a stream. I hopped from pavemnet outcrop to pavement outcrop in the flowing water. Add to this the interesting gutter system they have here; pipes run down to the first floor before shooting out the sides of the buidlings depositing their contests on the pavement and I was more then happy to make it back to my warm hotel room.

Hopefully tomorrow will be a nicer day.

Gallery: Istanbul

pushmorphine — Mon, 5 May 2008 00:39:00 GMT

The 'bul

pushmorphine — Mon, 5 May 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Istanbul, the gateway to Asia and also the first stop on my grand adventure from Turkey all the way to New Zealand.

My friend Mehmet's father, Mustafa, picked me up from the airport and drove me through the city to their beautiful apartment in a compound that sits high up on the hills overlooking the Bosphorus. I was immediately adopted by the family, given Mehmet's old room and even offered the use of his clothes. Since I'll be travelling for the next seven months I hadn't exactly brought any nice clothes. Turkish hospitality is almost overwhelming. I have been made to feel completely at home by Mustafa, his wife Melek, their daughter Sinem and her fiancee Ergin.

It was actually Mustafa's birthday the day I arrived, luckily I came armed with gifts, and that night we headed out to celebrate. One entire side of the restaurant, Topaz, was thirty feet high plate glass windows, with a stunning view of the Bosphorus Bridge, and the sea. Our table was of course front and center. I sat there mesmerized by the view while stuffing myself with Turkish delicacies all washed down by a Turkish liquor called Raki. Think a slightly stronger Ouzo (45%) that is served on ice and mixed with water.

Was up and out of the apartment by 1000 the next morning and spent the next eight hours wandering around the old city. Saw the Topkapi Palace, including the Harem, the Blue Mosque, The Basilica of Hagia Sophie, the Grand Bazaar, the Spice Bazaar, plus multiple other less known Mosques and sites. Got lost a few times, managed to avoid the huge riots between the Labor Unions and the Riot Police who seemed determined to celebrate the first of May by recreating the 1977 Taksim Square Massacre. Had some tea and did a little writing before taking a taxi back the apartment. Of course, the driver tried to change the set price when we arrived. This started a heated argument where I told him he could have the 25 lira or nothing. It ended with me throwing the money at him as I stepped out of the cab followed by a torrent of Turkish cuss words. All in all a very satisfactory day, the weather is so nice here I even got a little sunburned.

That night, Thursday, we had a dinner party where I met much of the extended Saracer family. The food was delicious, all hand made by Mustafa over the past two days. His uncle is a very famous Turkish journalist and at one point he had to get up from the table to make a phone call. Next thing I know they turn on the TV and he is talking on the news, via the phone in the bedroom, about the day's riots. He talks for about ten minutes, hangs up and then rejoins us for desert. All very surreal.

On Friday I had my first experience of the Istanbul Metro system. It is quick, clean and cheap. Only 1.30 YTL per journey, maybe London should learn what with it's ridiculous Tube prices. Went to see Taksim Square, where the riots had been in full force the day before. Still a small police presence but nothing compared to the army of riot cops who had been out the day before. Walked down to Galata tower where you get a great 360 degree view of the entire city before stopping for lunch at one of the many restaurants that pack the quays of the Bosphorus. Finished the walk off with a quick visit of the Istanbul Modern Art Museum.

That night I went out with an old friend from university, Burak. He took me to an incredible fish restaurant on the Bosphorus. Never saw a menu, Burak would just speak to the waiter and another delicious plate would arrive. This was followed by a quick tour of Istanbul nightlife at various bars.

Saturday was a slightly later start than usually due to the previous evenings activities. Went to visit the Dolmabahce Palace with it's myriad of chandeliers, including one that weighs four and a half tons! Wandered through some of the parks and had some tea at a cafe overlooking the Bosphorus.

On Sunday morning Mustafa, Melek and I walked down to the Bebek area and had brunch with Sirem and Ergin. Then we headed to Ergyn's apartment for tea and coffee. It was a wonderfully relaxing day, which my exhausted legs much needed.

Tomorrow morning I leave for Tbilisi where the adventures will truly begin.